Page 206 of Serpent In White
Thoughts slice into my own, and I immediately thwart my excitement, silencing my ideas as I approach the cabin. I can hear Drake as I move closer, which means he can definitely hear me, and I don’t want him to know what I’m scheming.
It’s hugely difficult to surprise your partners when they can both read your mind.
But even with Empyrean… even with the ultimate openness we share, there are things I’ve managed to keep to myself.
Outside the former cabin, I take a look around. The greenhouse has been expanded, and peering in through the glass, I see all the colors of Drake’s handiwork. Greens of varying shades, flora and fauna, life sprouting from each direction. It’s miraculous, and my sudden need to see the inside overcomes me.
Heading to the cabin door, I knock and let myself in, instantly hit with the intoxicating aroma of plants. Drake turned his old home into a protected terrarium of sorts, the entire inside filled with all his most prized possessions. His hybrids, all over the place, surrounded by warming lamps, each tank, pot, and case labeled meticulously with names, kingdoms, and species, chemical equations everywhere.
He still has his shelves set up with hundreds of books, and several whiteboards he uses for math I wouldn’t even begin to comprehend.
My brother, my lover, my Serpent… The stone-cold genius.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” his deep voice murmurs at me, and I spin to find him transplanting something, his fingers digging into the dirt as he massages a new life into it.
“Figured I’d come check you out.” I saunter up to him. “Making my rounds and all.”
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I press my chest into his back, peering over his shoulder while he works. The sense of calm at being next to him is immediate, though our pulses both pick up, thoughts whirling through all the love we share.
“You’ve never been able to keep from checking me out,” he rumbles, and I chuckle into him, teasing the nape of his neck with my lips. He hums, “Distractions, my King.”
“I love distracting you,” I whisper, my erection hardening in an instant from just being close like this. From listening to him and smelling him…Feelinghim, in every single sense possible.
He stops what he’s doing, brushing the dirt off his hands before twirling in my arms, zipping our fronts together as his hands go for my throat.
“Maybe it’s time for a break.” He smirks, eyelids drooping as he leans in and presses an unbearably soft kiss on my mouth.
“That sounds…so good,” I growl between his lips, and drop to my knees, peering up at him from the floor.
“There is no sight quite like having a King on his knees,” Drake hisses as I open his pants, his fingers sifting through my hair.
I lick my lips. This is something I can only ever do with Drake…Remember.
I can recall a time when I wasn’t a King. When I wasn’t the Head Priest of The Principality.
When I was just a man named Darian. A lost boy in the woods, fumbling through pain and pleasure with the other piece of his soul.
And for all the infinite love I possess for what we’ve built, and our relationship with Abdiel that finally feels like home for the first time in ever, Drake and I hold each other’s worlds in our hands.
Hours later, we’re curled up on the floor by the fireplace. It’s not lit, yet there’s enough heat coming from our recently sated bodies that we can lie here naked and not even feel the nip of fall from just outside these walls.
Drake reaches for his pants, pulling a joint from his pocket. He lights it while my head rests over his heart, listening to the steady beat, which has calmed significantly from the loud banging it was doing while he was losing himself deep in my body.
“You should’ve kept a bed in this place,” I grunt at the stiffness in my hip from lying on the wood floor. Still, I would never want to move. I’m at peace.
“I have one,” he says on an exhale of pungent smoke. “We just didn’t make it that far.”
I chuckle, and he does the same, flipping the lid of his lighter over and over.
The sound is familiar, and when I glance at it, I recognize it well as the Zippo he always carries around, with the worn American flag on it.
It was Dan’s. And it never occurred to me until after I’d found out the truth about what he did to our former foster father why he had it. I’d always just assumed he’d stolen it from Dan, like he used to steal money, cigarettes, and booze from him.
But it was more like a parting gift. A trophy; a talisman. A symbol of Drake’s victory over that monstrous piece of shit, and the vengeance he gave me like restitution.
Taking the lighter from Drake, I hold it in my hand, thumb brushing over the worn face. There’s pain inside me from the memories it holds; that will never go away. But the acceptance I feel, the renewed truth in every step that led me to right where I am, is the ultimate rebirth.
Ecdysis.
