Page 58 of Deadly Little Sparrow

“Let me toss this fucker and then I say we go home and take a steaming hot shower,” he says, and I groan blissfully.

“Yes, please.”

XAVIARO

Sparrow is quiet during the drive home. It’s not the same stunned quiet that he wore after shit went down with Riff Raff. It’s more quiet and contemplative. When we get up to my apartment, I send a text to Enzo that simply says “Done” so he’ll know everything is handled on our end.

Whatever happens with the Sleepless Reapers from here remains to be seen, but Sparrow has his closure, and that was my main priority tonight. Enzo’s response is a simple thumbs-up. Tomorrow we’ll have a meeting to debrief on how things went with the rest of the plan, but as far as the rest of tonight goes, I’m officially off the clock for a few hours.

I set my phone down on my dresser as Sparrow and I enter the bedroom and reach up to loosen my tie. But he finally seems to come out of his deep thoughts, shooting me a playful warning look and batting my hand away so he can do it himself.

“Everything go off without a hitch with the cook houses?” he asks as he loosens the knot and then slides my tie off of my neck before starting in on my buttons.

“Everything’s good,” I answer, because I’m sure it is. If anyone knows how to blow shit up, it’s Sal. Buildings, cars, his own relationships, he can do it all without breaking a sweat.

His fingers brush over my bare skin as he exposes it inch by inch, raising goose bumps and stoking the heat that always simmers in my gut whenever he’s near. We fall into an unhurried kiss while I help him out of his clothes. My cock swells as he tangles his tongue around mine, but I ignore it, too fixated on the breathy sounds Sparrow feeds me and the way he relaxes against my body to care about anything else.

Eventually, we stumble into the bathroom, breaking the kiss just long enough for me to turn on the shower, cranking the knob as hot as we can both stand it.

Tonight wasn’t just the end of a chapter for Sparrow, it was the end of an entire fucking obsession. What if he’s not the same person now it’s over? That question has kept me awake for the last two nights, watching him sleep while I waited for the axe to fall.

I turn back towards him and Sparrow is already right behind me, ready to claim the space between my arms that has never belonged to anyone else. He steals another kiss before pushing me backward into the shower and following me in.

“Hey, maybe I could be a hitman. I’m pretty good at it now.”

“Uh…” I stumble over a polite way to tell him that the last thing he should be is a hitman. But apparently my lack of answer is loud and clear, because he scoffs and playfully twists my nipple, dragging a moan from my throat.

“Fine, I won’t step on your toes. Clearly you’re not up for the competition.” He sniffs.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I agree diplomatically, reaching for the bodywash and filling my hand with it. He hums and sags against me as I start to massage the suds into his skin, tilting his head so I can get his shoulders. I lean in and press a kiss to the sparrow tattoo on the side of his neck.

“It was Benny’s favorite bird,” he says. “When we were little, a sparrow made a nest in the tree right outside our bedroom window and he spent weeks waiting for the eggs to hatch and then watching the baby birds until they got big enough to leave the nest.” His voice is soothing, echoing off the tiled walls in a somber tone as I continue to work the lather over his wet skin. “They’re aggressive little birds, did you know that? And unlike most birds, they can change their tune, they don’t always stick to the exact same melody.”

“Sounds like the perfect bird for you.” I kiss his tattoo again and he lets out a throaty chuckle.

“I guess it is,” he says. “I thought I would feel different now that everything is over, but I think this whole thing changed me right down to my bones.”

“I like this version of you, little bird.” I cup his face in one hand, tilting it up towards mine.

“I think I do too. Dark and twisted isn’t always a bad thing.”

“On you, my Sparrow, dark and twisted is absolutely beautiful.”

“So, what happens now?” he asks, echoing my earlier thoughts.

“Happily ever after?” I know it’s naively optimistic of me, but I’m long overdue for a little of that, aren’t I? It’s not too much to hope that this end is really just the start of something, is it?

He tilts his head up, resting his chin in the middle of my chest, a smile stretching over his lips.

“Do killers get happy endings?”

I drag my thumb along the shape of his lips, memorizing them like I plan to every day for the rest of our lives. “We can have whatever we want, Little Sparrow.”

“And we’ll whack whoever tries to tell us otherwise?” he teases in a bad Italian accent.

I snort with amusement, dipping my head to bring my mouth close to his again. “Exactly,” I murmur, bumping our noses together.

“Sounds pretty damn good to me.”

---