Page 32 of Patron of Mercy

But the second Lach had slipped to his knees in front of him, Thanatos had been lost to anything but him.

It was like the old days, yes, with beautiful, sweet Glaucus and his silver tongue, but Thanatos didn’t lose himself to memory for a moment. Somehow, there was something as compelling about this older, newer, more measured man kneeling in front of him. Lach. He was the same man, but he wasn’t.

There was an earnestness in his eyes that he had always covered in ten layers of snark and bullshit before. Maybe the years had made Lach a better liar, or maybe, just maybe, they had made him someone Thanatos could be friends with.

Friends with erections.

There was none of his usual wicked grin when Lach slid his hands toward the apex of Thanatos’s thighs. He went slow, making eye contact, waiting to be rebuffed.

Thanatos wanted to tell him he wouldn’t get a no, but he couldn’t even form the coherence to say yes. All he could do was meet Lach’s eyes and remember to breathe, and that was hard enough.

“Just—” Lach licked his lips, glancing down at where his fingers were encroaching on Thanatos’s fly and then immediately back up. “I’m trusting you to say something if you want me to stop, yeah? Just a word. A push. Anything, I swear I’ll be across the room in a second, hands to myself, and we can pretend I never—”

Thanatos reached out to cup Lach’s cheek in one hand, and Lach turned into it like a flower to the sun. Something in his eyes opened up at the contact, and only then did Thanatos understand how guarded he’d been since their reunion. Lach had never been one to play things close to his chest, but somehow he had been, and without Thanatos noticing.

He needed the words, Thanatos realized. He didn’t need the absence of refusal; he needed acceptance. That was it. Thanatos had to make a decision. The last time he’d agreed to what Lach offered, it had resulted in a few wild, joyous years together, followed by the rending of his heart into a million scattered pieces.

This was different, though, wasn’t it? Lach wasn’t staring up at him with those same guileless eyes, asking for everything. This was just for now. This was a mission with a time limit. They had to find the scythe and save the harvest, and then they would part ways again. Thanatos could do this, could have this, and not have his heart torn out again.

Couldn’t he?

“I’m not—” His voice came out rough, and he had to stop and clear his throat. “I’m not saying no.”

Lach’s shoulders slumped, and for a second, Thanatos thought it was in disappointment. The way he practically dove for Thanatos said something else, though. His fingers trembled as he used both hands to undo the buttons and slide down the zipper.

He reached in and pulled at the waistband of Thanatos’s boxers, uncovering his cock and staring like it was a precious artifact. He wet his lips and looked back to Thanatos’s eyes, checking again for permission, granted with an encouraging nod.

The feeling of Lach’s lips wrapped around the head of his dick was perfection. He had missed this so much. Not just the blow jobs, but the way the man hummed around him, the way his right hand automatically slipped down to cup Thanatos’s ass, like he needed to press himself even closer.

Lach gave blow jobs like he did everything: with his whole self.

His eyes fluttered shut as he lost focus on the world around him. He slowly worked his way down Thanatos’s cock, licking around it to ease the friction of lips on skin until he managed to get halfway. Then he started bobbing up and down, a tiny bit at a time, taking a little more with each return.

His left hand slipped down to mirror the right, squeezing Thanatos’s ass beneath his slacks and pulling him in deeper and deeper, until Lach’s nose met his groin. They let out simultaneous grunts of satisfaction, Lach humming and Thanatos having to brace himself to keep from bucking upward.

Lach didn’t like that tension, though, giving an annoyed noise and pulling Thanatos into him, indicating he should go ahead and thrust forward. Like Lach didn’t need to breathe.

Thanatos decided not to fight. He let Lach manhandle him, bent to Lach’s need to be in charge even when giving himself completely. He planted his hands behind him on the bed and leaned back, then let himself melt into Lach, who pulled his hips up. He swallowed around the head of his cock for several euphoric seconds before slowly pulling back.

He pulled completely off to draw a deep breath, but a second later he was back, sliding his lips around the head, laving his tongue over the frenulum so lightly that it was almost a tease. When Thanatos’s ass clenched in the effort to remain where he was, Lach again pulled his hips up and pushed his mouth down.

He started a quick rhythm, bobbing up and down, sucking lightly as he came up and swallowing when he bottomed out, the muscles of his throat working around the head of Thanatos’s dick.

“L—Lach—” Thanatos stuttered. He wasn’t sure if it had been eternity or a few seconds, but he was done. When Lach turned those blue eyes up to meet his, full of fire and want, he couldn’t hold back.

His head, his whole body, fell back onto the bed, arching up into Lach as he came and came. He was left feeling as though his soul had departed his body, leaving behind a sweaty, panting husk. It was a damn sight different, and so very much better, than the last time he’d found himself in that position on the same bed.

It took him a moment to shake off the post orgasmic haze and remember he wasn’t alone. He had a partner in this.

The end of the bed dipped with Lach’s weight, and he looked nervous when Thanatos lifted his head to stare down at him. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, and Thanatos thought they might be feeling the same way. He pushed himself up on his elbows and motioned toward the tent in Lach’s own trousers, question in his eyes.

Lach shook his head, and his cheeks flushed. Thanatos took it to mean he either didn’t want reciprocation, which was concerning, or didn’t need it. It wouldn’t have been the first time Lach had come without help while giving head, so he decided to give the situation the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t want to think about what the other might mean.

Instead of focusing on what he was being denied, he simply let himself fall back onto the bed. He took a deep breath, then another, and in a move that he thought might be the biggest mistake he’d made in centuries, he put his arm across the empty half of the bed and looked up to meet Lach’s eyes. “Nap?” He let his eyes fall back to the empty spot next to himself.

Before he could glance back up or properly ask the question he intended, Lach was filling the empty space. He pressed his back against Thanatos’s side, head pillowed on his arm. The position was comfortable, but somehow dissatisfying, since it hid Lach’s face from him.

Still, it was warm and present, and it felt damned good.

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