Chapter Thirty-Four

Once I got home, I figured I’d have a few minutes to get ready for Milo’s arrival, but a gust of wind hit the second I opened my front door, and I moved aside as he hovered in front of my doorstep, allowing him the space to properly parade inside.

“Didn’t you have a meeting?”

“Oh, with the Global Guild?” Milo stepped in close. “Sometimes it’s best to leave them waiting. Makes ‘em want you more.”

I turned away, face flushed and incapable of hiding the smile caused. “Since when do you want to join the Global Guild?”

He’d basically dodged them, their invitations, their requests, their summons, their uppity fucking everything since he was brought into the Global Rankings, making a name for himself on the international level, yet content remaining here in Chicago, far from their elite guild.

“I’m not really interested in the Global Guild buuuuut…” He dragged the word out with a grin that almost made me think he planned on making an ass joke. “Their influence here could paint a brighter future for everyone.”

“The Global Guild isn’t stationary.” They moved where and when and how they saw fit. They didn’t simply linger in a city for a time, not the way Milo’s thoughts suggested. The Global Guild relocated regularly, completing missions only the best of the best could achieve. Even a devil at the doorstep of Chicago didn’t entertain their fancy, not enough to garner aid from the most elite witches in the world. Not that Milo ever wanted their help or the implications it held.

With the Global Guild came strings, vulnerability, and the idea a city, state, or province couldn’t defend itself. All the same, his mind weaved between blurry visions of what they might offer. Not blank visions. Blurry. Muddled. Just out of frame from my sight.

That’s weird. It’s like I can finally almost see Milo’s magic in action.

“What’re you planning?”

“It’s sorta complicated, lots of random variables.” Milo waved a hand like that somehow blew away the thoughts stirring around his spiky blond hair. “It’s far off in the future, maybe. Nothing’s certain.”

“You and the future.” I sighed. “You know, my manifestation knew a lot about your future or futures.”

Milo stood silently, absorbing the distance in my phrasing. My manifestation. Not me. Because he wasn’t me. Not really, not fully, not even a little bit. I hoped.

“He thought you hired Hayden as some potential to banish the devil.” I shrugged. “But now I see you didn’t plan that.”

“And now you’re wondering why I hired him. Of the nearly two thousand applicants, why Hayden Never-On-Time-For-His-Life Russo?”

I’d never asked. It didn’t really strike me as something to look ahead at, but this was Milo. He never made a choice without thinking years into the future about the outcomes.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. None of it.” I brushed past him and headed toward the kitchen for a little liquid courage. “I didn’t call you over to discuss visions, futures, your job.”

“You brought it up.”

“There’s so much about your visions I can’t make sense of.” I poured a drink. “They’re wrapped in my head, suffocating, weighty, and impossible to navigate.”

“Not impossible, but certainly a challenge.”

“I can see it all, well, all that you had the day our magics merged.” I swallowed a scorching sip of vodka and sucked my teeth until the burning faded. “Everything that could happen, would happen, should happen, and…” I downed the rest of the heavy-handed shot I’d poured myself.

“And everything that’ll never happen because the right fates didn’t line up properly.”

He meant the futures still involving Finn. Three young men stepping to the forefront of Cerberus Guild. Three powerful enchanters entangled in romance and heroism. Three meant to be the greatest protectors of Chicago. That was a future my manifestation believed he could force back into reality, wedge into the world despite Finn’s death, despite me walking away from guild life, despite Enchanter Evergreen changing a million events between what could’ve been and what had happened.

It was astounding how Milo held onto every vision, saw every potential—even those that never held a flickering chance.

“So, you call me over here to help you sort through the rubble in your head?” Milo grinned, eager to dive into my mind and organize the visions that’d made a home in my head. I supposed it was his version of getting a sock drawer.

“No. I’m not ready for that.” I pressed a hand to Milo’s chest, fixating on the steady beat that never held anxiety when with me, the heart that beat with passion and love and kindness and courage and everything else beautiful in this world. “I called you because I don’t wanna slip into comfortable patterns.”

He quirked a brow.

“I freak out, drown in guilt, I struggle to go through the motions, I avoid you, dodge you, use you for sex, and push you away until the all-consuming grief finally stops. Only it never stops. Not for me. Not the way I resist feeling. But that pain subsides when you’re here, really here, with me. I love having you in my life. I worry I’m not good enough. I worry I fuck up everything. I worry one day you’ll realize the wrong partner died.”

“Dorian—”

“Let me finish.” My voice cracked, either from booze in my throat or the nerves of raw vulnerability. Personally, I hoped it was the liquor. “Despite all the daily guilt, the constant anxiety, the regrets I could bury myself in, I don’t want to. I don’t want to slip into the comfortable habits of taking ten years or more to navigate emotions I’ll never master. I don’t want to push you away ever.”

“You already gave me permission to be insufferably unavoidable.” Milo grabbed my hand, pulling it close to his face and delicately kissing my knuckles.

“I know in my head you have a point about the manifestation. He wasn’t me. He was a piece. A bad piece. But I’ll probably hang onto the blame until the day I die. It’s just who I am.” I caressed his face, running my fingers along his sharp jawline. “Still, I want to be who I am with you in my life, trying to see the world through the same happy lens you do.”

“So, what do you wanna do right now?”

“Right now, I wanna bury my regrets while…” I grazed my knuckles along the tight fabric of his pants, brushing his crotch.

“While I bury my cock inside you?” Milo tilted his head, minxy grin and excitement in his bright blue eyes. “And here I thought you were trying not to fall back into avoidant tactics.”

“This isn’t me slipping into old habits. I’m not avoiding my emotions by being with you. I’d never do that to you, to us.” I grabbed his belt, unfastening it. “I don’t wanna use your body to dodge my feelings.”

“And what do you want?”

“I wanna embrace how I feel, and right now, I wanna feel my boyfriend, feel your love, your passion, your satisfaction.” I unzipped his pants. “The kind of things that remind me why I keep trying.”

Milo kissed me, rough and fast. My lips barely kept up with his. I loved the taste of Milo. His hands had found their way onto my hips, pinning me against the countertop. I yanked his belt off and slid my hand down his slacks between his briefs. As his tongue led our mouths in a messy make-out, I grabbed his cock, jerking his bulge until it stiffened in my grip. Milo released my hips to adjust his pants and pull them down to free his fully erect dick.

“Damn.” I kissed Milo’s neck, breathy and teasing him with each exhale as I continued stroking. “That was fast.”

“Gonna have to catch up.” Milo pressed his full body against me, running his hands over me, tugging at my pants, gripping my thighs, kissing my shoulder, nibbling, and biting. I couldn’t keep up with all the sensations, the desires, the full allure of his arousal.

Gentle telekinesis weaved between the roughness of his assertive hands, stroking my cock, wrapping around my ass, massaging my lower back, and a thousand other touches meant to ready me here and now.

Milo spun me around and pulled my pants down to my knees.

My breathing hitched when he stuck a finger inside me, wet and lubed, having already worked his magic to grab the bottle from my nightstand on the other side of the house.

“We could take this to the bedroom.” I leaned so my back pressed against his chest, my ear close to his lips because I wanted to feel his words hit my skin.

“I want you here,” he whispered, sliding a hand up my back one column at a time, and instructed me to bend forward.

With a firm hold, he kept my face and chest pressed to the cool countertop as he drove his cock inside me. My feet arched, stretching and bracing my stance on the high counter until his rough thrusts made my legs quake and my toes curl.

Suddenly, I relied purely on his magic to hold me. He hovered, clearly based on the angle of driving his dick down into me like a jackhammer pounding away so fast the empty glass shook, clinking when it reached the metallic edges of the sink.

I moaned, hand extending to catch it, but I missed, swept into the painful pleasure of Milo’s increasing strokes. All I could do was brace against the counter. Every time he thrust, he went a bit deeper, fully plunging his cock all the way inside me, and mine began to throb.

With one hand pressed between my shoulder blades and the other holding my hip, Milo kept me pinned in place as he piledrived into me. Each second left me lost in delirium, in the excitement of Milo and the grunts that escaped both our lips, mixing with the slap of his skin hitting mine.

The clock on the stove ticked by, albeit completely inaccurate in its display of three in the morning, but I watched the minutes pass. Each one added to my throbbing cock bouncing against the kitchen drawer, sticky with precum.

Milo’s relentless lust made me pant, the satisfaction he had asserting himself, fucking me as I whimpered in ecstasy. A true blissful euphoria. I never wanted it to end.

The pressure holding me against the countertop eased as Milo slid his hand down my back and slapped my ass. I yelped, startled and enthralled. He firmly squeezed the cheek while his other hand kept a grip on my hip. With me fully in his grasp, he pumped into me faster, unrelenting. Every breath he released carried a feral grunt, soothing me, calling me, enticing me more.

Unable to contain myself, I arched my back and leaned up. With my upper body freed, I stretched an arm over my head and yanked his hair. I pulled him closer, though I couldn’t angle myself properly; I wanted his lips, to taste the sex on his tongue, to feel the sweetness of his love, to breathe in every exhale of passion he held.

“Milo,” I whined, barely able to contain my climax.

His lips met mine, silencing me; his hand reached around and found my cock.

“Wait.” I groaned, biting his bottom lip as he rhythmically pounded into me while stroking my cock until I couldn’t stop myself.

My entire body warmed, vibrated, and all the tension in my muscles, in my mind, in my magic, exploded as I came.

Milo didn’t stop. Kissing me. Thrusting. Controlling the ebb and flow of our bodies in the air as we spun around, shifting positions until I rode on top of him. He floated up to the ceiling, pinning me between his body and the rough surface of the wall. He grabbed my wrists, holding my arms in place as he teased me with his lips just out of reach. I bit the air between us, tasting his sweat and lust but wanting it all.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, guiding and instructing the pace, urging him to speed up. He was close. I could feel him twitch on the cusp of finishing.

His heightened thrusts were all-consuming. I gasped as he railed me harder and faster until finally cumming inside me. Milo bucked, still thrusting so he could pump every drop into me. I pressed my forehead to his, basking in his satisfied exhales as he panted, relishing in the pleasure of his release.

The exhaustion of his pure satiated delight showed as the full weight of my body fell into his, held up only by wobbly levitation.

I channeled some telekinesis to steady our slow descent to the kitchen floor, where I collapsed on top of a sweaty Milo.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” I muttered.