“I would burn the world for you,” Nick says, and Alan should worry because he knows it’s literal. But he also knows that it’s Nick trying to put his feelings into words, an awkward and unnatural thing for a demon.
The thing is, Alan doesn’t worry because the sentiment is mutual.
Nick bites like being told he doesn’t have to hold back is an unexpected gift.
“In this set of circumstances,” Alan tries to clarify even while his higher brain functions retreat under the press of Nick’s teeth. “Here, with me, it’s okay. Other people might not – oh, fuck – appreciate it.”
Nick raises his head, pressing Alan into the bed as his weight shifts. His black eyes are fierce and hot. “I don’t want any other people,” he says, inflectionless with truth as only a demon can be.
“Well,” Alan says, stutters, really, “that’s… that’s beside the point, but,” – this is not a conversation he is capable of having with his thighs spread around Nick’s hips – “mm, I think you get the gist.”
Nick rolls his eyes and rocks his hips down. Alan makes a sound he’ll deny to the grave, and gives in to the pounding of his blood.
Alan tries to be gentle with Nick. Gentleness and care aren’t points he can make once and trust Nick to remember. He has to prove the value of kindness over and over.
He tries to be gentle, but when Nick presses into him he grabs with rough hands and groans in his throat. “Again,” he gasps, his fingers leaving white indentations on Nick’s arms, his ribs.
Nick bares his teeth in what could only loosely be called a smile and rocks his hips, making no pretense at gentle. Alan bites back something that wants to be a snarl and a demand. “Please,” he says instead. He’s trying to teach by example, here.
Nick gives into the plea like it’s an ingrained habit. Slides back into him in a series of short jerks that make Alan see stars, that make the skin where he once wore demon marks burn and ache. Nick kisses him breathless, dark and heavy and Alan catches himself smiling.
In two worlds, there is nothing he has ever wanted more.