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You Two Look Good Together

Chapter 3: Part Three

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Ezra is the first to break their kiss. “We, uh…” The corner of his mouth twitches up into a soft little half-smile as he takes in Briar Rose’s face—the soft dusting of rose on her delicate cheekbones, the way her lavender eyes darkened under his attentions. “We should stop.”

Briar Rose blinks, “We… Oh.” She flinches, attempting to slide out of Ezra’s arms. It takes a moment for Ezra to realize that she’s misunderstood what it was that he was trying to say, that she’d honestly thought he’d meant—

“Wait. Wait, no.” He holds her a little tighter, and she stops trying to run—at least, for now. “I just meant that we should stop before Gus comes at us with a spray bottle.” August’s answering chuckle is dark and foreboding, and it makes Briar Rose smile—genuinely smile—for the first time since this whole mess started.

“Something tells me that they would enjoy that a bit too much.” Ezra tucks a few strands of inky black hair behind her ear, admiring the delicate line of studs that adorn the shell of her ear.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, without thinking. Her breath hitches, her eyes flickering up to his face—

Their eyes meet, and for a second, time seems to stand still.

When he’d first laid eyes on Finn—the vampire’s face gaunt and pale as the slivers of moonlight that cut through the trees, thick, dark blood pouring from the mutilated flesh near his shoulder, where his arm had once been—Ezra had known, immediately, that he was completely and utterly besotted. Even without the aid of his vampiric abilities, there was something about Finn that drew people in. It made people want to trust him, even if every fiber of their being rebelled against the idea of trusting a creature that could tear them limb from limb without a second thought.

Briar Rose was much the same. He could feel the power hidden away inside of her lithe body thrumming just beneath her skin. Those hands, that he was carefully folding into his own, were capable of ripping a vampire’s arm clean off of their person. And yet, when he was holding them, his touch gentle, yet firm enough to feel the way that their continued proximity made her shake, it felt like he was back in that forest, offering his neck to a half-dead, half-starved vampire who had no reason to trust him—

Being here with Briar Rose, holding her in his arms, tasting the lingering sweetness of spiced wine on her lips… Perhaps August was right, and he was attracted to the thrill, the danger, that came from knowing exactly what his beloveds were capable of doing to him, and trusting that they never would.

He brushes a finger over the swell of her bottom lip, leaning in for another kiss—

August clears their throat, and he stops just as he can feel the warmth of her breath washing over his lips.

“Much as I hate to interrupt,” August says, in a tone that implies that they have absolutely no reservations about interrupting. “We are already late.” They incline their head toward the clock, and sure enough—

“Shit.” Briar Rose pulls away from him then, and this time, he lets her. “We’ll, uh… We’ll talk about this later, okay? In the meantime, tell Finn that I’m fine. I’m sure that he has a thousand other things to worry about—” Neither mention that Finn is likely to continue stressing until he can see her for himself, and hold her in his arms.

“Will you come by the shop after your shift?” Ezra asks. She shifts a little, considering.

“…Will there be alcohol?” She asks, her tone only half-teasing. Ezra’s tea was delicious, of course, but… she had a feeling that she might need something a bit stronger, to make it through this “conversation.”

“I… might be persuaded to make you a hot toddy.” Ezra says. She realizes, with a start, that he remembered that she’d ordered a whiskey—neat—that night they’d met in the Wolf, after…

Ezra was considerate to a fault, always looking out for those around him—taking note of those seemingly insignificant details in case they proved to be important somewhere down the line. Like this. She liked whiskey well enough (really, that night, she’d just been in the market for something strong enough to dull the ache of James’ spirit(?) clawing it’s way through her subconscious); It wasn’t her favorite by any means, but it certainly beat the swill that Alkar seemed to think was beer.

But Ezra had made a point of remembering that she drank it, and no doubt had much better whiskey on-hand then they served at the Wolf. And even if he didn’t, paired with his absolutely delicious tea, she didn’t think it would really matter. She swears up and down that Ezra’s tea could make sewer water drinkable.

“It’ll be okay.” He says, and she realizes that he’s taken her extended silence as hesitation. Which… is not entirely inaccurate. She still has her concerns… mostly about facing Finn, after everything, but…

Ezra had said that Finn was worried, but… she bites down on the inside of her cheek and mumbles, “Is he… mad?”

Ezra shakes his head, “I don’t think it’s possible for Finn to be mad at you. I don’t think he knows how.” He says. “If… If you still don’t want to be with him, with… us,” the word causes a delightful blush to blossom on his dark cheeks, “he’ll understand. We both will. All he wants is for you to be happy… and to know that you’re safe.”

Briar Rose nods, “Do you… Will you tell him that I’m okay?” And then, she laughs, “Well, as okay as I can be, in the circumstances. I have to say, two hours on August’s couch was infinitely more refreshing than an entire night at the Wolf.” August mumbles something about taking the Enforcer responsible for her accommodations to task.

“I will.” Ezra agrees, before turning to August, “Thank you for watching over her, Gus.”

“I am her Enforcer. It’s my job.” August says, despite the fact that they all know that, as an Enforcer, they’re under no obligation to open their home to their Hunters. Their tone softens considerably as they add, “I take it that the two of you have made amends?”

Briar Rose looks down at where there hands are still intertwined and smiles, “I… I think we have.”

Ezra accompanies them most of the way to HQ, much to August’s chagrin. He thinks that he hears the psychic grumble something about him being late to open his shop, but for once, he finds that he doesn’t mind the idea of a line of impatient customers standing outside of his door, frustrated that their morning has been thrown all out of whack because the town healer is just a few minutes late. He will open his doors in due time, and meet each and every one of their needs in abundance, but until then…

He'll keep holding Briar Rose’s hand in his, and relishing in the feel of her holding his back.


Briar Rose is most definitely not nervous.

She certainly hadn’t volunteered to stay late at HQ to help August whittle down the impressive stack of paperwork sitting on their desk (and August certainly hadn’t given her an absolutely bone-chilling look as they motioned to the door and told her to go and get a proper night’s rest before she up and collapsed in the middle of their office). After August had dismissed her one-hundred percent genuine offer of help, she absolutely had not paced around HQ no less than three times, frantically searching for a Hunter recruit to spar with, floors that needed to be cleaned—

Anything to keep her from having to walk across town to Ezra’s shop to talk about feelings.

It hadn’t taken long for August to catch wind of the fact that she was still lurking around HQ—the psychic had heaved a dramatic sigh, gathered their coat, and “offered” to walk her to Ezra’s shop themselves. She uses the term “offer” incredibly loosely, seeing as they’d taken her by the forearm and marched her out of the office.

So, here she is, anxiously shifting from side-to-side as she stares at the still-closed door to Ezra’s shop, the magical symbols swirling across the wood indicating that he’d already locked up for the night. August’s expensive shirt is providing her very little protection from the bitterly cold, winter air—

She knows that Ezra has probably lit the fireplace, and prepared a warm, fuzzy blanket, perfect for cuddling—

And Coco is always ready to curl into a sweet, fluffy ball in her lap, and purr to her little heart’s content.

August rolls their eyes. They knock on the door, seeing as Briar Rose has no intention of doing so herself, before tucking their hands into their pockets and starting off back toward their house. “Goodnight, Hunter.”

“G-General…?!” By the time it occurs to her that they’re leaving, it’s already much too late to do anything about it. And besides—

The door to Ezra’s shop swings open with near-violent force. She turns just in time to catch a glimpse of Finn’s face (he looks like he can’t quite believe that she’s there, standing in the snow-laden streets in a shirt that’s practically gauze—she’s almost certain that he can see the way her nipples have hardened, gooseflesh rising along the back of her neck and shoulders as another rush of bitterly cold air nearly knocks her off of her feet), before a hand is closing around her wrist and yanking her forward into a delightfully solid chest.

“I was so worried.” He says, and the sheer relief in his tone makes her stomach twist up into painful little knots. How could she ever have thought that Finn would be mad at her over something like this?

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, unsure if he can hear her, seeing as her face is currently squished against his left pectoral. “I’m sorry.” She’s not sure what she’s apologizing for, but it feels like the right thing to do in the situation, and so she lets the words come—

“Shh…” He helps her in the front door, before closing it and relocking it with his iron prosthetic. It’s a bit warmer inside, but the crackle of logs spitting bright, magical flame calls to her from the other room. “Come on.”

Finn takes her hand in his and squeezes gently, leading her into Ezra’s sitting room. She remembers having been here the other day… She’d stood there, right in that spot, and told Finn that they were through. Her chest grows uncomfortably tight as she recalls the twin looks of devastation on their faces (it’d never occurred to her that she might be able to have both of them… that there was more than one person out there that might want her, twisted Hunter biology and all), and Finn’s grip on her hand tightens.

He looks at her, and she melts, all of the negative emotions that’d been bubbling up in the dark corners of her mind dissipating into nothingness. In their place, something bright and warm begins to grow, something that feels like love but couldn’t possibly be because…

Who could ever truly love something like her?

Finn settles on Ezra’s couch, before gently, but firmly, pulling her down into the space beside him. She goes willingly, instinctively curling into his side despite the chill coming off of his skin making her bones ache, and is rewarded with a soft kiss to the temple and a blanket draped over her shivering form.

Ezra returns a moment later with her hot toddy, and the scene is so perfect, so domestic, she might cry.

The hot toddy is too hot to drink at the moment, so she simply stares into the cups dark depths, allowing herself time to collect her thoughts and think over what it is that she wants to say. Eventually, she settles on, “I wasn’t lying when I said that the two of you look good together.”

Finn tenses, perhaps bracing himself for the worst. He looks like he wants to say something, but can’t quite find the necessary words. It’s then that Ezra chimes in with, “I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there, somewhere.”

Briar Rose licks her lips, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe… Maybe the three of us would look even better together?” She sinks down into the warmth of the blanket, trying—and failing—to hide.

Finn’s golden eyes widen, “I… you… really?” His genuine surprise is absolutely heartbreaking. Briar Rose supposes that she has no-one to blame but herself for that, given the circumstances.

“That is… if you’ll take me back, of course—”

The words are barely out of her mouth when Finn is scooping her into his arms, and bringing her in for an embrace that’s just a hair too tight. He’s peppering kisses over every inch of her skin and hair that he can reach, and Briar Rose is laughing—truly laughing—as she nuzzles into his chest and holds him back just as tight. A second later, another pair of arms sneak around her middle, a head of dark curls finding sanctuary in the small divot between her shoulder blades. She cannot remember the last time she’d felt so safe, so appreciated, so loved

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” she snickers, as Finn’s iron fingers begin to lazily card through her hair.

Finn chuckles, the deliciously dark sound bubbling up from the depths of his chest making her tingle in all the best ways. “Was there really ever any doubt, Rosie?”


The next few days are little more than a blur.

Briar Rose visits with Omen, and discovers that the spike in supernatural activity that Lunaris had seen over the last several years was due to his damaging the Hell Gate that separated their worlds when attempting to escape from his father. Ezra is beside himself, believing that he is at least partially to blame for the resulting calamity—as he was the first person that Omen sought out after arriving in Lunaris, he should have known, or at least suspected, that the Gate might have sustained damage in his travels.

August is less than pleased by the idea of spending their evening in the heart of the woods, utilizing a spell that they were not even one-hundred percent certain would work to close a Hell Gate that had apparently been open for years—which is why she sweetens the deal with a bottle of their favorite wine. They take one look at the bottle and curse the thrice-damned day they’d agreed to take her to the Lunaris Festival. When she asks if that’s a ‘no,’ they snatch the bottle from her hand and tuck it away into a hidden compartment in the bottom drawer of their desk.

At this point, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the creature decides to go tearing through town while she, August, and Ezra are otherwise occupied—or that the resulting fight leaves her battered and bloody, with her hand pressed to her side in a piss-poor attempt to slow the river of blood seeping through her armor.

Her vision blurs at the edges as she tries to talk Finn down from his bloodlust, even as her own blood flows…

Ezra doesn’t know what to do, who to help, and she… she wants him to stay with Finn. She wants him to…

“Dizzy…” She stumbles, and suddenly, the forest is spinning. Pain slices through her like a knife as brush and bramble dig into her back, the crown of her head colliding with a gnarled tree root—

“Rosie!” That’s… Finn’s voice. Her last conscious thought is tinged with relief that he’s okay—or, as okay as he can be, in the circumstances. And then… darkness.

When she wakes, she finds herself in Ezra’s bedroom, tucked into bed alongside the sleeping witch. Or, rather, using the sleeping witch as a makeshift pillow. She sits up slowly, mindful of the wound that should be there, at her side… But she’s been completely healed, with nary a scar to hint at the fact that the creature had taken a literal chunk out of her side. It’s then that she notices that someone has cleaned and bathed her, and dressed her in what she can only assume is one of Ezra’s robes—

The translucent blue fabric fits her quite a bit differently than it does her sleeping companion… her breasts cause the fabric to stretch in ways it was clearly never intended to, to the point where, even in the near pitch-black darkness, she can see the hint of her dark areola through the fabric. The blankets fall away, allowing her to see just how much of her body isn’t covered—the hem of the robe barely covers the curve of her ass, and the front doesn’t even close all the way. And she’d been… in bed… with Ezra…

The door to the bedroom opens, and Briar Rose nearly jumps out of her skin. She can’t decide whether to grab the blanket and attempt to cover herself, and risk giving Ezra a rather rude awakening in the process, or—She realizes, with a start, that she’s far too frazzled to think of another option.

She ends up sitting there, frozen, like a deer in the headlights.

“Rosie?” Finn drops the tray that he’d been carrying, an ornate tea pot shattering into hundreds of little pieces upon making contact with the hardwood floor. “Rosie! You… You’re awake!”

“I am, indeed.” She’s about to ask how long she’s been asleep, when her lavender eyes focus in on a rather nasty looking wound on his left pectoral… Could that have been from their fight with the creature? His vampiric abilities should’ve healed that relatively quickly, “…And you’re bleeding.”

“What?” It takes him a minute to realize that he is, in fact, still bleeding. He pokes at the wound as if it has personally offended him, “This? This is nothing. It will heal on its own, in time.”

She rises off of the bed, completely forgetting about her state of undress. This causes the mattress to shift, which, in turn, causes Ezra to wake to a view of her perfectly sculpted ass, “R-Rosie?!”

“Hmm?” She turns to him, the borrowed robe falling open to reveal the swell of her pert breasts—

Ezra looks to be at a complete and utter loss for what to do, despite the fact that he’d spent the last however many days cuddled next to her in bed in a similar state of undress. It’s only upon seeing Finn’s bleeding shoulder that he seems to be able to find his voice, “Finnegan! Why didn’t you tell me that you were hurt—”

Finn rolls his eyes, “Because it’s nothing. It’s literally a scratch—”

“That’s almost certainly infected, at this point.”

“And this one here needed all of your attention.” Finn continues, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. His hand slides into the folds of her robe, his long, cool fingers caressing the skin where the creature had injured her. “I wasn’t about to let her die for my selfishness.”

Ezra grumbles something underneath his breath, before sighing, “Then you need to feed, at least. That’s the only other way to close the wound, at this point.” And then, he makes a point of crossing his arms over his chest and hissing, “’Scratch’ my ass.”

Once upon a time, Finn had told her that he preferred to feed from Ezra because (1) he was willing, and (2) a witch’s blood provided more sustenance than a normal human’s blood, allowing him to go longer in-between feeds. Briar Rose cannot help but wonder, looking at him now, just how long it’s been since he’d last fed. She also cannot help the way her heart begins to race at the thought of Finn feeding from her. She knows that it won’t be nearly as fulfilling… although, her recent discoveries about what makes a Hunter a Hunter make her question that, a little…

She’s well aware of the fact that she’d just lost a lot of blood, and had very nearly died, but… Ezra is making no attempt to get out of the bed, looking for all the world like he wants to roll over and go right back to sleep. She knows that Finn won’t ask for anything he wouldn’t give willingly (and something tells her that, despite being about to pass out, Ezra would gladly offer the vampire his wrist, or his neck)… but this is something she can do. This is something she wants to do. She just hopes that this is something that Finn wants to share with her.

“You can drink from me.” She says, and Finn’s eyes widen. “I know it won’t be the same as if you drank from Ezra, but…” She reaches out to gently intertwine their fingers, “You got hurt trying to protect me. This is the least I can do.”

Finn’s expression is pained, “I don’t… Rosie, I don’t want you to agree to do this because you feel obligated.” He says. “I would weather this and more, if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Which is very sweet.” Briar Rose assures him, “But I don’t want you to be in pain unnecessarily. If there’s something I can do… It’s not an obligation, Finn… I would gladly do it.”

Finn is silent for a moment, before nodding. She lets out a startled little yip as she’s lifted into the air, Finn’s massive hands pressing into her firm ass cheeks—the thin, gossamer fabric does little to shield her sensitive skin from his frigid touch. Her legs wrap around his slender waist, her previous shyness melting away as she feels exactly how pleased her boyfriend is with her current state of undress. She, on the other hand, believes that Finn is wearing far too many clothes—

He carries her over to the bed, and deposits her onto the mattress, so that her head of ebony waves is laying on Ezra’s lap. She stares up at him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way his skin seems to glow in the near perfect darkness of the room, her mouth curling into a sinister little smile as he settles between her legs—

“It’ll hurt. Just for a second, though.” Ezra tells her, lazily combing his fingers through her hair. Finn’s fingers trail along the insides of her thighs, applying just enough pressure to cause her to shiver and quake.

His lips trail kisses along the length of her neck, as one of his hands finds its way in-between her legs. He hesitates just before making contact with her slick folds, even as her legs fall open just a little bit wider, to allow him easier access. “May I?” He purrs, fangs grazing her delicate skin.

“Yes.”

His thumb brushes against her clit, moving in a slow, lazy circle, as his teeth finally, finally puncture her skin. She tenses, briefly, her mind struggling to process the bright spark of pain that shocks her system… Ezra continues petting her hair, his other hand sliding down to drag the robe off of her shoulder, his long, lean fingers cupping the swell of her breast and squeezing gently. She arches her back, the pain in her neck melting away into… not quite nothingness, but rather, a pleasant, unyielding pressure

Finn’s fingers keep moving, his pointer and middle fingers teasing at her quivering entrance… Her cunt aches to be filled, and Finn does not disappoint, his fingers sinking into her, slow and steady and insistent. She’s so preoccupied with the utterly delicious stretch of it that she doesn’t realize the fangs at her neck have retracted.

Finn’s tongue glides along her tender, abused skin, catching the last few droplets of blood that weep from her wound, before he licks his lips. “Mmm… you know, angel, I think our pretty little Hunter could do with another check-up, just to make sure all her wounds have… healed.”

He punctuates his statement with a sharp little flick of his wrist that has her thighs clamping down on his arm.

Each slide of his fingers inside of her dripping heat is producing an absolutely delectable squelch—

“Mmm… I agree.” Ezra is sitting up fully now, and the new position allows her to see just how awake he now is. Gods bless Ezra’s collection of translucent robes. “One can never be too careful with serious injuries, after all.” He says.

Those fingers press against something delightfully sensitive inside of her, and stars erupt behind her eyes. “I suppose it’s a good thing that she has the greatest doctor in Lunaris at her beck and call, hmm?”

Ezra’s fingers pinch her nipple, the sharp sting of pain soothed the instant he bends to take it into his mouth… His tongue laves at the pebbled flesh, as Finn’s fingers continue to stroke at her most intimate places, his hand positively dripping with her juices. Gods, these men were going to be the death of her…

And she had a feeling that she was going to love every moment of her inevitable demise.

Because, while Finn and Ezra had been made for each other… she’d come to realize that maybe, just maybe, they could’ve been made for her, too. And it filled her heart with love and pride to know that the three of them looked pretty damn good together.