Page 43 of Patron of Mercy

Thanatos shrugged. “And one pathetic man,” he agreed.

Before Lach made sense of what was happening, Thanatos seized the front of his shirt. There was a sensation like his feet being pulled off the ground, then a great tug through the world. To his credit, traveling the godly waywasdisorienting, but it didn’t lay him out flat like he’d implied.

They came to a stop in Lach’s room below deck, though they could’ve been halfway around the world for all he knew. In the dark, he felt Thanatos grab his hips, slide firm hands up his chest.

“Do you want a light?” Lach asked. He couldn’t see for shit in the dark, and there were only tiny windows up high on the wall. Curtains blocked out any light.

But Thanatos had been born to chaos. He moved freely in the underworld and didn’t seem to mind the dark now. Lach, for his own part, was in a mood to give him anything he wanted, and if that left him fumbling and sightless, so be it.

“You weren’treallymiserable the whole time, were you?” he asked.

Thanatos was tugging Lach’s shirt up, fingers brushing the heated skin of Lach’s torso until his breaths came short and shallow. “Hmm?”

His fingertips traced the ridges of Lach’s chest and swirled in featherlight circles across his nipples.

“It was the melon that ruined everything, wasn’t it? Should’ve gotten a melon baller.”

“What in chaos are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Lach’s thoughts scattered as Thanatos leaned in. The air from his breath rushed over Lach’s skin. His lips finally closed on Lach’s collarbone, and a low rumble of a moan worked up his throat.

When he reached for Thanatos, though, the god was slippery. With little more than a shrug, he escaped Lach’s arms before he could wrap them around his waist. They closed around air.

“What are you doing?” Lach asked.

“Taking what I want. Don’t tell me you mind now?”

A slow stream of air filled Lach’s lungs as he sucked in slow, trying not to let his chest shake with the effort. “I definitely do not mind.”

“Good.”

Seeing only Thanatos’s shadow was bound to drive him crazy, but his thoughts spun when the god reached for his belt, undid his pants, and slipped his hand inside.

Lach cursed under his breath as Thanatos wrapped firm fingers around him. There was a muffled thump as the god fell to his knees, then the blissful wet slide of his tongue.

He was only teasing, licking and kissing and working his hand just enough to get Lach throbbing.

Too soon, Thanatos pulled away. Lach heard his nightstand drawer open and Thanatos rifling around inside. Somehow, he didn’t mind the thought of Thanatos searching through his drawers when he’d been alone in here—not if it led to this and the memory of Thanatos cozy in his pajamas.

Rifling clothes, a moving shadow, and the sound of the mattress sinking under Thanatos’s weight were all Lach had to go on. He could imagine what the pop of the cap meant—the low moan a second later.

“Coming?” Thanatos asked, his voice sharper than a moment ago.

Lach didn’t have words for that, but he crawled onto the bed on his knees. In the dark, he had to feel around for his place. He touched Thanatos’s calf first, brushing his hand up the back of his thigh as the god arched toward him. There was a subtle movement. When Lach leaned in close, he could feel Thanatos’s wrist as his fingers smoothly worked in and out of himself.

Thanatos was facing the headboard, propped up on it with one hand while he worked himself open with the other. What Lach wouldn’t give to see him like that. Instead, he had to content himself with tracing the backs of his thighs, the curve of his lower back.

“Feel good?” Lach whispered against his shoulder.

“Not as good as your cock will.”

Lach cursed, burying his face against the back of Thanatos’s neck and sucking a mark. He never tasted like salt and sweat, but like something holy and sweet and far, far beyond Lach’s comprehension.

“What are you waiting for?” Thanatos demanded, knocking Lach out of it.

“Nothing,” he muttered, sliding his hands around to touch every inch of the god he could reach. Already, Thanatos was pressing back against him. He moved his hand, pressing both palms against the headboard. The smooth curve of his ass pushed against Lach’s dick. He thrust against him, but that wasn’t enough. Not for either of them.

With one hand to steady it, and another on Thanatos’s hip, Lach found his hole. The blunt head of his cock slipped between Thanatos’s cheeks, and when he felt the slick ridge of it, he pushed inside.

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