Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4 (MxM)

Behind Closed Doors

Air had woken from a nightmare. Or, rather, Quinn had woken him from it.

It had started with the twitching, which at first, in Quinn's groggy, half-asleep state, hadn’t been unusual. Air moved even in sleep, a blur of restless energy that rarely left him, awake or not.

The whimpers and the bite of cold fear were the things that eventually brought Quinn to full awareness. That made him realise his mate was, in fact, caught up in a nightmare.

Air mumbled under his breath, brow creased, the words falling over each other.

Quinn knew his tone all too well.

Pleading.

Realisation dawned, and—as it always did when Air had this particular nightmare—it made Quinn fucking livid.

As far as he knew, Air hadn’t dreamed of his capture in recent years.

Apparently the dry spell was over.

Fuck that.

Quinn sat up and laid a hand on Air’s cheek, already sending him soothing magic. It would soften the blow when he came out of it.

“Air,” he said firmly. “Wake up.”

He added command, and Air responded instantly.

Panicked purple eyes flew open. Wide. Pupils blown. Fully glowing.

He came out of it fighting. Fangs bared. The fear turning to fury.

Claws raked Quinn across his chest, but he caught Air’s wrists and held them steady. They struggled for a moment, until awareness crept in.

“It’s me,” Quinn said more gently, once Air had stilled. “You are safe. You’re here with me, little one.”

A strangled sound escaped Air’s throat, and Quinn let go of his wrists, gathering him up and holding him close as he crumbled. Air melted against him, palm over his heart, fingers grasping at him.

“Fuck,” Air breathed. “Oh fuck.”

Quinn stroked his hair. It was damp with sweat. Dishevelled from sleep. He breathed him in and held him tighter.

“It was just a dream. They’re gone,” Quinn murmured. “They can’t hurt you now.”

Air took a shaky breath, relaxing in Quinn’s arms, letting his magic in. It was a little while before he spoke, but when he did it was barely a whisper.

“I tried to use my magic. To persuade them to leave me alone.” He swallowed thickly. His breath tickled the bare skin of Quinn’s chest. “I wasn’t strong enough. There were too many of them. I was too weak to do anything. I tried...”

Quinn rubbed his palm up and down Air’s spine. Firm strokes to anchor him back in the here and now.

“You were strong. Don’t ever say you weren’t. You’re the strongest ghoul I know.”

Air huffed against him.

“I was weak, Quinn. When my magic failed, I panicked. I...” He shuddered. “They made me beg them. They called me by his name. The things they said... They...”

Shivers wracked his body, and Quinn let his magic loose. Let it seek him out and soothe him.

Old, unresolved anger clawed its way into Quinn’s gut. Impotent, because he’d already taken it out on the flesh of the ghouls who’d hurt Air. That didn’t make him feel much better, now that his mate lay trembling in his arms, decades later. Knowing what he’d just relived in his sleep.