Page 57 of Luxuries of Lust

“Thank you,” Gem murmured, squeezing Rusty so tight he couldn’t quite inhale.

“You’re, uh, welcome,” Rusty wheezed, though he wasn’t sure what Gem was even thanking him for.

Gem’s cheek rubbed against Rusty’s in a gesture too Mammylion to be an Araknis custom. It reminded Rusty of sitting in his mother’s lap in front of the wood-burning stove as she groomed his fur, the vibration of her purrs settling deep in his bones and lulling him to sleep. He nearly gasped at the sharp memory, and this time, he couldn’t stop his responding purr.

It rumbled in his throat, and his eyes drifted shut momentarily as he rubbed Gem’s cheek back. Gem emitted his own purr, a low-frequency vibration from his arm and leg fur, and warmth bloomed in Rusty’s chest, spreading out through his extremities until he was hot and tingly all over.

He nearly shivered as Gem pulled away, his top hands framing Rusty’s neck for a moment before his fingers drifted through his fur on their departure. Rusty blinked his eyes open, bewildered and off-balance, and found Gem beaming down at him. For one crazy moment, he wanted to reach out and drag his knuckles down Gem’s throat, for no other reason than to leave his scent behind.

Scent-marking was, overall, an outdated and archaic custom—like mate-marking. Lupyns were, to Rusty’s knowledge, the only species that still actively participated in those types of traditions. But since Rusty’sgaizhad only ever consisted of him and his mother, it hadn’t felt strange to rub his scent into her neck and for her to do the same.

He’d never felt the urge to mark anyone else; since her death, the notion had been almost repulsive. But now, he had to fist his hands to keep them at his sides, to stop them from stroking Gem’s pulse point, from kneading his scent into Gem’s skin. Because Gem was gaiz now, wasn’t he?

Rusty didn’t know when it had happened, only that ithad, and his entire world was tilting off center.

Completely unaware of the magnitude of the moment, Gem stepped backward off the lift and whispered, “Goodnight, Rusty.”

Rusty swallowed several times, searching for his voice. “Goodnight, Gem,” he finally breathed back, only to realize that the doors had already shut, and he was alone.

Except that wasn’t entirely true anymore, was it? He had a gaiz now, which meant, maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be alone ever again.

Slowly, he reached up and pressed his fingers to his cheek, where Gem had left the scent of cinnamon and coffee beans and something else. Something dark and sweet, like the deepest corners, shrouded in shadow, where only forgotten things hid. And as the lift descended, Rusty smiled.

Chapter thirteen

Sex-pocalypse

Gem

Summer was drawing toa close, and like it knew it was on its last breath, the heat bore down with a vengeance. It was the hottest day in August the Pentagram had experienced in several decades, and Gem was literally melting. According to Toni’s texts, he was not holding up any better.

[Toni] Maybe I should just jump from the fire escape. Think of the breeze on the way down.

We could go swimming instead. Then we’d still be alive.

That’s if we WANT to still be alive.

Drama queen.

Swapping to the group work chat, Gemtyped out:

Who’s up for a beach day?

[Toni] It ain’t optional. Our very lives are at stake!

[Oliver] I haven’t been to the beach yet, and Liel says he’s sick of sitting in his own ass sweat.

[Quin] Which beach?

[Tad] I vote Nøgyn Beach off the tip of Envy.

[Toni] Doesn’t Liel have air conditioning? How is his ass even sweating?

[Willow] Can Krul come?

[Glyma] Isn’t Nøgyn a nude beach?

[Oliver] The air conditioning in his building is broken, and the repairman is on strike.

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