Chapter 20

Casimir

The club pulsates with the rhythmic beat of music that gives this place a heartbeat of its own. Its veins are filled with dancing, sweaty humans; half of them are stumbling around, clearly intoxicated, and the other half are eye-fucking every warm body that walks past.

"Want to get some drinks?" Rory asks, his hands wringing in front of him. Even looking like a gourmet meal and flanked by two powerful demons, our little firecracker is nervous. It's a charming quirk of his personality.

It also means I get endless opportunities to remind him how perfect he is.

"Cas can get them," Amon announces, and I roll my eyes but nod. He tugs me forward, hand firm on my nape and voice directly in my ear as he tells me what to order. A spark tiptoes up my spine, making me shiver as a gentle nip scrapes against the hinge of my jaw.

Fuck, the things this man can do with his mouth.

His grin is full of filthy promises when he pulls back, smacking my ass. "Go be a good boy and fetch."

Still tingling from his touch, I make my way to the bar and signal the bartender. His initial annoyance fades when our eyes meet, and a flirty grin replaces his frown as he saunters over, biting his lip. "Hey there," he purrs, leaning in close so we can hear each other. "What can I get for you?"

"Two whiskey sours for my friends, and a Puckering Chocolate Starfish for me." I toss him a wink, as humans do, in case it motivates him to hurry.

He explodes into a cough and pounds a fist against his chest, his face flaming as he clears his windpipe. "Do… what… now?"

"A Puckering Chocolate Starfish," I repeat louder, enunciating every syllable, and the lady beside me snorts her drink out of her nose. I thump her on the back before she flees, presumably towards the restroom to clean herself. That was messy.

The bartender's wild-eyed stare suggests they may not serve those kinds of drinks here. That's fine—Amon gave me a few options he thought I'd enjoy. "How about a Back Alley Tongue Puncher?"

His face is turning positively purple now, and he pulls his lips between his teeth. To be honest, he looks constipated as he says, "Listen, buddy, you're hot but your pickup lines could use some work."

Annoyed that he'd hit on me while I'm trying to order, I hold my hand up and silence him. "If you can't do that, how about you make me a Creamy Briefs?"

A man that just sidled up beside me at the bar mutters a quiet, "Nope," and walks away, and my frown digs deeper.

These people aren't very friendly.

Through the commotion of the crowd, Amon's howling laughter reaches my ears, and I freeze as I realize what's happening. The bartender's lips twitch with amusement before he can't contain himself anymore, doubling over with laughter and slapping the bar.

"Those aren't real drinks, are they?"

"N-n-no," he finally gets out, tears forming in his eyes.

"Uh huh," I mutter with a nod. "I've been played, haven't I?"

"`Fraid so, buddy," he says, still wiping his eyes. "How about I make you three whiskey sours, one on the house?"

"I'd rather have it in a cup," I say, and he chokes out another laugh, but nods.

As he walks away, he mutters so low my demon hearing is barely able to pick up what he says. "The hot ones are always so fucking dumb."

Strange.

Amon's laughter hasn't stopped as I return, carrying three glasses. Rory's attempt to stifle his giggles fails as his blushing skin betrays him. "Aww, Cas, did they not have what you wanted?" Amon asks, gleeful.

"Hold these, please, Rory," I say sweetly as I hand over the short cups.

The moment he takes them, I grab Amon by the neck and slam him against the wall, catching him off guard. He's still grinning, his stunning smile wider than I've ever seen, and it makes keeping a straight face challenging.

"No luck with the puckering starfish?" he asks, wheezing against my grip.

"What do you think?"

"What about the creamy briefs?" He reaches forward and cups my cock, and I suck in a surprised gasp. "Nope," he murmurs, giving me a slow stroke before pulling his hand away. "Not yet, at least."

"You're an ass," I growl, pushing my face closer until our breath mingles in the tiny space between us. The cocky motherfucker just winks at me, then closes the distance and catches my lips in a kiss that makes me forget why I was even upset.

He pinches my lower lip between his teeth, and I groan at the sting, unable to stay mad at him. After I release him, we both shift our attention to Rory, his face a wavering mix of exhaustion and arousal.

It's a good look on him, honestly.

Ah, who am I kidding? My little red rose is gorgeous no matter what he's doing.

"Bottoms up, boys," he says, handing over our cups. I frown again, twisting to glance at my ass, and Rory's hand lands on my arm, forcing my attention back to him. "It just means to drink."

His patience is boundless, I swear.

"Obviously, I knew that," I say, grinning as he rolls his eyes, and the three of us raise our glasses.

Amon is relaxed as he surveys the club, his tall stature giving him a clear view above the head of everyone in this crowded room. He's the predator, on the hunt for his prey. The very second he finds his target, I recognize it by the subtle narrowing of his eyes and the confident tilt of his chin.

It's a challenge, even from this far away.

Amon waits patiently, tapping his fingers against the tabletop, as Rory and I finish our drinks. With a smooth smile, Amon takes Rory's hand. "Ready to dance?"

Rory grimaces, glancing down at his empty cup. "I might need more alcohol. It won't make me graceful, but I won't care as much."

Chuckling, I take his glass and leave it on the table, weaving our fingers as we navigate through the throngs of people. Music here on Earth differs from what's mainstream in Hell. It's more upbeat, with less screaming involved… although I heard Rory singing along to a band called Slip Not. They sounded pretty similar to many of our popular musicians.

Poor thing, he doesn't know how to scream at all, but he tried.

"I refuse to return to the bar," I say, and Amon's cheeks lift in a grin. "Just pointing that out since I finally realized what creamy briefs means."

They both laugh, Rory's paired with an apologetic smile. Amon leads us towards our destination, while Rory is clueless that we're heading anywhere specific. When we get close enough, he spins and smirks down at Rory, gripping his hips.

He's nervous at first, but Amon guides his movements so they're swaying in sync. I give him a chance to relax into the beat before I move in behind him, my hands over Amon's. Rory glances over his shoulder at me, laying his head back on my chest, and flashes a beautiful smile that's impossible not to kiss.

So, I do.

I lean in and press my lips to his, although it's a struggle to maintain any sort of rhythm as we dance.

A few songs go by like this, and slowly, Rory loosens up. When an upbeat melody comes on, he gasps. "I love this song!" he squeals, inhibitions forgotten as he bounces to the beat. Sweat beads on his skin like dewdrops and his cheeks flush, his brilliant smile a sight to behold.

He's a solitary rose, blooming in the sea of darkness with a fiery defiance—an irresistible burst of happiness among the crowd. Those green eyes sparkle like emeralds in the strobing lights, his creamy complexion bathed in splashes of blues, greens, and purples.

I want to worship at his feet.

Amon grabs his hand and spins him, and Rory shrieks, joyful laughter exploding out of him. After a few twirls, Amon pulls Rory against him, back pressing to his chest.

Over Rory's shoulder, Amon meets my gaze and gives a pointed gesture with his eyes. I return it with a subtle nod and wait a few seconds to glance in the direction he's indicating. Immediately, I spot Rory's ex and his new fiancé. The brown-haired man is dancing, but Johnny is standing shock-still, eyes glued to Rory.

Game on.

I draw nearer to Rory, pressing my body against his as we move. He lays back, resting his head on Amon and giving me a serene smile. "You are stunning," I whisper as I lean in, and his smile spreads.

Rory gives a happy hum as I kiss him, gripping his hips before wandering inward, brushing the bulge of his growing erection. "Greedy thing," Amon mutters, threading his fingers through Rory's hair and jerking his head aside to expose his throat. "Maybe I want a turn." I huff a laugh as I chase Rory's lips, kissing him deeper as Amon's mouth lands on his neck.

My hands travels, tracing the contour where his thigh meets his hip, until my fingers move closer to his cock again. With a gentle swipe of my thumb, I graze over the ridge under his pants.

He moans against my kiss as Amon crowds him from behind. Rory gasps and his head tilts up as he breaks our kiss, leaning into the sensations as my thumb swipes again. Amon and I each take one side of his neck, sucking and licking as the three of us dance to the music.

Ready to make my move, to slide my fingers inside his pants and jerk him until he comes in the middle of this club, I tuck my fingertips under his belt when an unfamiliar voice breaks through the moment.

"Rory?" I lift my head and meet Amon's eyes with a snarl already on my lips. "Is… is that you?"