Chapter Text
The Ristorante Carbonell felt… wrong… when James came in for lunch. There in the corner were a booth of witches whispering and drawing designs in the salt. There by the window were two wolves with hands over noses and eyes ringing white as their feral stirred. There at James’s usual table were his lieutenants sat whipcord tense and fangs grit stressed and first James stretched his senses trying to taste and know the irritation warping at the aura of the room, then he crossed to his table and rapped his knuckles at the surface to order,
“Tell me what’s wrong. What th’fuck is wrong?”
“James.” Samuel spoke since Steven couldn’t seem to pull his fangs back enough to get the words out. “Antonio cut himself. He bled a lot, enough for the wolves to start growling when they smelled it and enough for the witches to get anxious. Too much blood spilled in neutral territory is bad news. He says he’s alright now, but it set everyone on edge real quick.”
“My mate cut himself?” James’s head snapped round toward the kitchen, nostrils flared trying to catch a hint of wine scented blood. “Is he still here? I can’t scent him.”
“Still in the kitchen. I think he put somethin’ on the wound to stop it real quick so we’d stop staring. He says he’s alright.” Steve lisped around the jut of his fangs, the pointed teeth running long in his mouth in response to the temptation of tasting the chef. He wouldn’t dare, of course. Not a single creature in the ristorante would dare attempt to set their teeth into Antonio’s throat whether he’d been claimed by James or not, the risk of ruining their neutral territory by offending the volatile little Italian was not something anyone wanted to attempt.
But. Steven was tempted, fangs long and tongue thick starving because Antonio’s blood was rich enough to be dizzying, and the spike of fear that had accompanied the shriek of pain and spill of scarlet was heady enough to be drugging. Nothing tasted as good as fear and copper and split skin so Steve was tempted and the wolves were tempted and the witches were nervous.
“Fuck’n hell.” James swore under his breath, then pointed at his lieutenant, “Outside. Now.” then pointed at the wolves, “Don’t even think about it.” and stomped his way to the kitchen.
Antonio must be alright if there was no blood scent in the air, but the idea of his mate being hurt set James on edge enough to make him growl, to drag his voice ragged as he paused just outside the warded silver on the kitchen door and demanded, “Babydoll. Lemme in.”
The door was warded, not enough to keep the vampire out if he wanted to barge his way through, but enough to enforce Antonio’s demand for permission so James didn’t knock, didn’t nudge it with his foot, didn’t even raise his voice lest his little mate get fussy and toss him out all together.
“Antonio.” he tried again when no one answered, decided to ask rather than demand. “Sweet thing. Can I come in?”
“Sono occupato! I am busy, Signore Barnes!” Came the chirped answer. “Come back later!
“Nah sugar.” James tried not to roll his eyes over Antonio answering his question but not his demand. Stubborn brat. “I heard ya got hurt and I need to check on you. Lemme in.”
Gritted teeth, “Please.”
“Puoi entrare.” Antonio almost sounded grumpy as he granted the vampire entrance to his kitchen, then as the air displaced and warped around James blurring into his space, Antonio turned back to the stove and announced, “But don’t think for one second you can start stomping about and shouting. This is my kitchen and I will skewer you if your cattivo atteggiamento compromises the food.”
“C-Cattivo--” James had picked up a lot of Italian over the course of his hundred plus years and he scowled as he mentally translated it. “I do not have a bad attitude. And even I did have an attitude, it wouldn’t compromise the food, tha’s ridiculous.”
“Certo che si, of course it will.” Antonio sniffed at him. “A messy aura breaks the spirit of a beautiful dish. Everyone knows that.”
“Oh?” James set his feet wide and folded his massive arms across his chest, narrowed his pale eyes at his little mate. “How come you make such good food when you’re always in a pissy mood, then?”
“I--!” Stunned momentarily speechless for perhaps the first time in his life, Antonio’s pretty mouth fell open into a stunned ‘oh’ before he gathered himself again and declared, “Once again you are wrong, vampire. Non sono arrabbiato, I am not angry I am passionate and that is why my food is delicious. You come nella mia cucina all pissed off and the food will be bitter. Clear your aura or leave.”
“Antonio--”
“Clear it or leave, Signore Barnes! You will curdle the cream glaring so hard!”
James ran a hand over his face and tried tried for a measure of patience. He hadn’t fallen head over heels for Antonio because the little chef was submissive and sweet and easy but-- but god damn it all anyway.
“Samuel told me you got hurt.” He started again gruffly. “Are you okay?”
“Sto bene.” Antonio waved him off. “I am fine. It was an accident, I cut the tip of my finger and bled a bit. It happens to every chef.”
“Yeah well, everyone out there,” James jerked a thumb towards the dining room. “Is all anxious about it.”
“I cannot help how sweet my blood smells.” Dark eyes glittered curiously towards the vampire. “Are you anxious about it?”
“Pretty fuckin’ anxious.” James bit out. “Yeah. Don’t like my mate bleedin’ unless I’m th’one spilling the blood.”
“What a horrifyingly barbaric thing to say.” Antonio looked positively delighted by it. “Calmati, Signore. I am fine.”
“Sure, sure.” A quick check proved there wasn’t even a spot of blood on the neat little bandage around Antonio’s finger, but James still motioned him in, “Lemme check it anyway?”
“No.” Antonio’s red lips parted challengingly, and his eyebrows rose almost intrigued, nearly daring James to push the issue. “I am fine and you need to back off.”
“I’m tryna take care of you.”
“It’s not your place to take care of me, James.”
“I called you mate and you didn’t deny me.” The vampire’s teeth glinted as he warned, “It is my place.”
“Not denying your claim,” Antonio tapped at his bottom lip and tilted his head. “Non è la stessa cosa, it is not the same thing as accepting your claim.”
“You’re so goddamn--” James started to say frustrating, started to growl a little as the unstoppable force of his most primal instinct to care for his mate ran into the immovable object of Antonio’s stubbornness.
James started to call his mate frustrating, his fingers even flexed as if he were to grab at Antonio’s wrist and haul him in the way James did when they were being sweet and nearly kissing.
But.
James opened his mouth and the silverware seemed to vibrate a little, spoons and ladles vibrated against their canister, pans hanging above the stove clinked together, the butcher knife on the cutting board caught the light and shone when a few seconds previous it had been lying at such an angle to not catch the light at all.
And for a blink, for half a breath there and gone, James swore Antonio’s eyes tinted blue.
“Antonio.” The vampire wet his lips and braced himself when his next breath felt heavy beneath a flex of power in the air. “Antonio, I was only gonna say--”
“Watch your tone with me, Signore Barnes.” Antonio said slowly, softly. “You are beautiful and I am not above admitting I adore you and in the most selfish of ways, I love how possessive and protective of me you are. But I do not take kindly to being spoken down to in my own ristorante and your good looks will not save you from the consequences if you continue this conversation, capisce?”
“Noted and noted babydoll.” James swallowed and the air lightened. “Can I see your finger? Just make sure you’re okay?”
“Do you scent blood?”
“No, but--”
“Is there any blood on my bandage?”
“No, but--”
“Then no.”
The kitchen went silent, atmosphere tense as the vampire visibly struggled to over ride his instincts and acquiesce to the human’s-- Antonio was human, right?-- demand, but before James could answer either way, the silver bells above the front door jangled loud and someone shouted, “I wanna talk to him!”
“What--?” James turned with a frown, then stepped forward with a snarl when he caught the heavy scent of aggressive werewolves. “Shit.”
“I wanna talk to him!” The lieutenant from the werewolf pack was angry, growling and snapping off his words. “Bring me the little chef! This place is supposed to be neutral territory but he’s out here lettin’ a parasite tear up and down his throat, he’s picking sides! None of us are safe if he’s picking sides!”
“Stay here.” James’s eyes ringed in scarlet as he strode towards the dining room. “I’ll handle this.”
“Signore Barnes.” Antonio darted beneath James’s arms and got to the door first, turning on his heel to send the vampire a quickly triumphant little smile. “This is my ristorante. Why on earth would I stay in the kitchen when there is trouble.”
“Antonio.” James groaned exasperated. “You just said you like when I’m protective. Said ya loved it, in fact.”
“And I also warned you of consequences if you try to throw your rather burly weight around.” Antonio touched his fingertips to James’s chest. “This situation here is a direct result of my going along with your foolish claim of mate. You will allow me to handle it.”
“Babydoll--”
“You will allow me to handle it.”
Antonio whirled around and hurried through the door, pushing the sleeves of his chef jacket up his arms as he went and putting two fingers into his mouth to whistle in a piercing register until the wolves all cringed from the noise.
“Qual è il problema!?” He shouted out loud, and instantly everyone in the ristorante turned to look. “What is the issue? You are not to come into my ristorante and start raising a fuss without cause! You!”
Antonio snapped his fingers towards the witches, “Tend to my human customers and be sure they do not remember these events! And you!”
Whirling towards the wolves and leveling them with his best glare. “You will air your grievance in the most polite tone possible, do you understand?”
The witches hurried the humans out the door and the ristorante fell into tense silence. The wolves stayed by the door, hackles raised and eyes ringed white in anger and James cut behind Antonio to join his lieutenants at the table, on guard but willing-- trying to be willing-- to let the little chef handle the moment.
Natalia appeared from the back pantry and the fae paused before stepping from the shadows, choosing instead to stay close to the door with eyes cut into uneasy slits and pointed ears twitching every which way listening to the vampires breathing and the sound of the wolves racing hearts. As fae, Natalia had no real inclination or care for any of the creatures who gathered at Ristorante Carbonell but she adored Antonio with her entire heart and fully intended to shred the wolves to bone if they spoke to her friend the wrong way.
“You.” Antonio spoke again once the restaurant had cleared, his hands on his hips and chin lifted stubbornly. “Are treading on a hundred years of peace by coming through these doors in such a way. Pensa di nuovo, you need to reconsider your actions.”
“No no no, cook.” The head werewolf sneered, an ugly fangy thing. “You’re the one set to ruin a hundred years of peace by choosing sides with the vampires!”
“I am not choosing sides.” Antonio denied calmly and the werewolf snarled, “Barnes is claiming you as mate!”
“My being his mate,” the casual claim wasn’t lost on the room, but Antonio ignored the disbelieving scoff from the wolves as well as the claiming rumble of James whispering his name to insist, “Has no bearing on whether or not you and your kind are allowed to eat, linger and conduct business within my ristorante, the same you have been for a hundred years.”
“Nah.” the werewolf growled. “It ain’t safe here with a parasite’s thrall running the place. How do we know you won’t poison us just to tip the war’s favor towards the vamps?”
“Because if I was going to poison you, I would have done so the first time you got on my nerves!” Antonio raised his voice only a notch. The silver place settings at the table trembled. “Now you can either sit down to lunch like civilized folk or you can get out, but make your choice quickly or I will make it for you.”
“You’re making a grave mistake, Antonio Carbonell. Choosing sides against the werewolves will not go well for you!”
“Ascoltami attentamente.” Antonio straightened to his full, rather petite size and warned, “Listen carefully. You will sit down and eat the cacio e pepe potato gnocchi I have been making all morning, or you will get. Out. I do not need a vampire at my side to enforce the rules of this ristorante, capisce? You will watch your mouth or I will cut your tongue off with my favorite silver knife and serve it to the next person on the reservation list.”
“Awful mouthy,” came the tersely furious response. “For a human.”
“So the rumours say.” Antonio’s eyes lit hot and dangerous. “Are you hungry for lunch, or will you leave?”
The wolf shifted his weight forward growling and James took a step forward fists clenched and fangs bared ready to challenge…
…but just off to his left, a silver knife tilted up on its edge and twirled slowly, digging a tiny hole into the tablecloth and glinting in the restaurant lights.
“We.” the werewolf saw it too and his next breath was audibly labored as if the air had become thick as soup clogging at his lungs. “We would like some lunch, Signore Carbonell.”
“I thought you might.” The knife fell. Antonio smiled and pointed to a table. “Your usual spot, please. You understand there will be a surcharge on your bill since you are testa di cazzo, si?”
“Uh. Yes. Si.”
The kitchen door swished shut behind Antonio, then open and closed again behind Natalia’s nearly ethereal form and Steven turned to James with wide eyes, “James. What just happened?”
James picked up the silver knife and hefted it in his hand, turned it over a few times. “...Fuck if I know.”
*****
There was a meeting that night at the Ristorante Carbonell, witches and werewolves and vampires crowded into the neutral territory to attempt a tense conversation. There were threats about drawing lines and restarting long buried wars, demands for retribution if the vampires were to receive special attention and insistence of other territory given up if the vampires were going to claim the Ristorante for their own. Everyone was uneasy about Antonio picking sides, the oldest of the witches spoke to Bisnonna Antonia’s fairness and impartiality, the retired but still revered werewolf patriarch stamped his cane and argued that wolves were always pushed out first so his son’s behavior earlier had been justified.
Beyond the lines drawn between the creatures in the room, there were business concerns to be met. The vampires operated within and through the mob, with their kind present in every label of the organized crime units. The werewolves were too aggressive to be anything other than hired muscle and the proximity of their teeth and claws to the weapons flowing into the city brought difficult questions to the table regarding skirmishes and issues with upholding peaceful agreements. The witches needed both the physical protection of the wolves and the vampires knowledge of business to continue operating their many nightclubs and more scandalous venues under the radar of the humans and law enforcement and needed both sides to keep their fangs covered.
James was still trying to secure the different vampire clans beneath his and his lieutenants rule and while claiming Antonio as mate had all but secured him the position within his own kind, the wolves and witches were only worried by the relationship and what had seemed like a sure play for stability a few weeks previous now seemed to be a lit match at a powder keg.
The entire atmosphere spiked frazzled at the edges as every breath brought the creatures closer to exploding into an argument or physical altercation but just as the evening tilted towards unstable, Antonio came from the kitchen with a tray full of supper-- fresh pastas and well seasoned meat and steaming sauces to set on the huge table. Natalia followed him with plates and bowls, and she set them down in the center of the table where Antonio directed.
“Mi scusi.” Antonio clapped his hands and every head at the banquet table turned. The little chef was beautiful always, but he was especially beautiful when he’d been cooking, when his curls were rumpled from the heat and cheeks flushed from the exertion, when his lips were shiny from tasting the sauce and eyes lit with satisfaction. He was neatly buttoned into his chefs jacket and apron but rather than obscuring his frame, the structured jacket only accented the shape of his shoulders, the apron only snugged at his waist and thighs.
Antonio was quite simply stunning and when he spoke up, no one could look, least of all James.
“Mi scusi.” Antonio said again. “Now then. You are all here to talk about territories and rights of way of business and no matter the changes that have come to my personal life,” he raised his eyebrows pointedly towards James. “This ristorante is and will always be neutral territory, so you are all safe here so long as you behave.”
“That being said.” the little chef snapped his fingers and every creature at the table jumped startled when the knives and forks at their place settings all flicked up to stand on their pointed ends. “My Bisnonna, Dio benedica la sua anima, would roll in her grave if she knew how you all were carrying on. The behavior of the wolves this morning is unforgivable, witches are drawing their own sigils in my ristorante to set their own spells and certain vampires have become far too familiar and are forgetting their place within these walls.”
“Apparently, I haven’t been as strict as I should be, so here is a reminder.” Antonio tilted his head and the silverware rotated on the sharp points. The wolves whined when the sound of silver scraping wood registered grating at their hyper sensitive ears, the witches stirred uncomfortable as the knives cut through the etched invisible sigils they’d drawn at the table to ensure the conversation tilted in their favor and the vampires all scooted back against their chairs trying to stay away from the silver that could so easily burn their skin with too much contact.
“Keep the conversation civil.” the little chef’s dark eyes sparked blue for a blink. “Or I will keep it civil for you. Yes?”
Murmured agreements sounded round the table and Antonio graced them all with one of his sweetly, dangerous smiles. “Molto bene. Tonight we are having dinner family style to remind you all to behave and to share. Those who fight over the food will be banned. Dish up and enjoy, I will have more on the way. Buon appetito.”
Antonio and Natalia disappeared back into the kitchen for another bowl of the savory pasta and a heaping pile of fresh baked garlic bread. The oldest witch touched at her heart then leaned over to murmur sotto voce to the ancient werewolf patriarch, “I remember how fierce Antonio’s Bisnonna was, but I suppose I’d forgotten the way the Carbonell family wields it's power. I thought the gift had died when Margaret passed since Maria never showed any inclination towards it.”
“James chose his mate well.” the werewolf’s eyes narrowed in begrudging respect as he watched James serve his lieutenants before taking food for himself. “Perhaps he is old enough to head the clans.”
“I do not think James chose Antonio as a mate.” the witch disagreed, picking up her silverware carefully. “I think perhaps Antonio chose James.”
*****
At midnight when the meeting concluded and the for the moment no longer arguing creatures went their separate ways, James stayed behind.
“Were you ever gonna tell me about that?” he asked bluntly as Antonio locked and warded the front doors, and Antonio sent him an impishly innocent look over his shoulder to respond sassily, “About what?”
“About the silverware.” the vampire gestured broadly to the banquet table. “About the knife thing? Were you gonna tell me?!”
“Signore Barnes.” Antonio unbuttoned his chef coat and dropped it over the back of a nearby chair, smirking a little bit when James’s eyes promptly dropped to the stretch of the fitted t-shirt over his chest and tapering at his waist. “It is not my fault if you don’t know your history.”
“My history.” James repeated blankly, his gaze trained at the bit of dark hair he could see at the vee neck of the shirt. “What does that mean?”
“Le storie.” Antonio waved his hand vaguely. “The stories and rumours sulla mia famiglia. If you are to lead the vampire clans, shouldn’t you know the history about the place you frequent as neutral ground and the best eatery in the nieghborhood?”
“You do have th’best eater in the neighborhood.” James admitted, and Antonio scrunched his nose in delight. “So what, your great granny was… magic?”
“Not exactly magic, not like the witches or the fae.” Antonio undid the ties of his apron, unwrapping it from his waist with a little flourish simply because he knew his vampire was watching and because he liked the way James’s eyes sparked red. “But. There were no humans on that boat from Italia to New York. At least not full humans. Least of all Bisnonna Antonia."
“Fuckin’ hell.” James tied his long hair back and hauled himself up from the chair to get the broom. “Does everyone know this ‘cept me?”
“Well they do now.” Antonio paused to shamelessly watch the vampire flexing an unnecessary amount while sweeping up the days dust. “I’m sure the eldest witch and the werewolf patriarch knew and simply forgot or assumed I didn’t carry the influence with me since I’ve never used it.”
“The influence, huh?” James lifted a chair with one hand, set it upside down on the table so he could sweep beneath it, and grinned when he heard the sharp inhale of admiration from his little mate. “Influence of silver.”
“The influence of silver.” Antonio could have gladly watched James put chairs on tables all damn night and his smile grew when he saw James slowing in the motion so he could watch. “Yes. Exactly.”
“Should I be worried you’ve got some sorta magic that could hurt me?” James wanted to know. “Some sorta magic you could use to subdue me?”
“Oh please.” Antonio came closer, winding through the tables until he reached the vampire’s side. “It isn’t as if I’m suggesting a silver collar all tua gola,” he set his fingertips to James’s throat and dug his nails in enough to make the blue eyes ring red. “To prove my claim. Not the way you so crudely suggested a collar when I turned down your gift of jewelry."
“Oh hell, I’d wear a collar for ya, sugar.” James rasped, craning into the soft touch so his mate would linger. “You jus’ let me know.”
“The silver would scar your skin.” Antonio stepped closer, eyes hooded and tongue peeking out by his teeth as he closed his small hand at his vampire’s neck. “Wearing something silver for hours on end and days on end would scar you. Permanently.”
“I’d wear scars for ya too.” James caught Antonio’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Go get me a collar, little magic mate.”
“I think rather than jumping directly to maiming yourself to show your devotion," Antonio smiled thrilled up at him. “you should be pleased your instincts brought you to a mate so well matched to your needs and so complementary to your power.”
“My mate.” James rumbled. “Sure does somethin’ to a fella to hear you claim me and us like that. C’mere and lemme show you how much I love it. All done waitin’, c’mere and let me have ya.”
“Hm.” Antonio smoothed his thumb at James’s lip, feeling the protruding bump of his dangerous fangs. “Tempting. But perhaps another time. I need to clean up.”
The little chef strutted away towards the kitchen with a self satisfied smile, but he very quickly shrieked when the air displaced blurring and James was quite suddenly at his side, in front of him, stopping him in his tracks and looming over him nearly panting.
“J-James.” Antonio swallowed and James bent to trace the motion with his lips, with his tongue, with the barest scrape of his teeth and a low, vibrating snarl.
“James.” Antonio whispered shakily. “Stai attento, if you’re going to get vicious every time you’re even slightly near my throat, perhaps I will lock you into silver.”
“Mmmmsweet thing.” James pushed close, hovering barely a breath above the sweet shape of Antonio’s mouth. “That ain’t the threat you think it is.”
“Chiedi il permesso.” Antonio whispered, straining on his toes with his fingers clutched into the folds of James’s shirt. “Ask for permission. Richiedi l’ingresso, ask for entrance to my throat and my blood and my body.”
“Please…” James asked for permission, curved his bulk around his little mate and begged hoarse and pleading, “Please Antonio, my mate. Let me in.”
“Si Caro-- oh!” No sooner had the words left Antonio’s mouth than the vampire yanked him into a kiss. James wrapped his arms like steel around Antonio’s little waist and crushed their mouths together, switched to grasping his huge palms over Antonio’s rear and hefted his mate right off the floor and right into his arms.
Antonio squealed into it and James took the chance to shove his tongue past Antonio’s red lips, licking past the seam of his mouth to press his way inside and muffle the thready moan from his mate with a slick slide of his tongue. Antonio’s lean legs tightened at James’s waist and the vampire lost himself in the feel of his mate clinging tight to his shoulders, in the heat of Antonio’s mouth and the quietly delirious noises his chef was making they found each other’s mouth again and again for messy, moaning kisses. The closest table served as the perfect place to lay Antonio out and James set his mate carefully on the pristine tablecloth, then rather uncarefully bent forward to take Antonio’s mouth again, over and over as he hitched Antonio’s hips higher so there was more room between his mate’s spread thighs for his bulk.
Antonio dragged his nails at the white tablecloth then tangled them in James’s hair again, tearing it from the tie until the dark strands fell down around their faces, blocking out the light and tickling at his skin as the vampire devoured him. He settled his weight into the span of James’s hands at his hips and let James maneuver him around, locked his legs round James’s waist and shivered when the huge brunette rutted forward rocking into him, murmured something soft and coaxing in Italian when he felt the hard line of the vampire’s cock burning at his thigh.
Then, “James--!” Antonio jerked away from a kiss that turned too sharp, turning his head and cursing under his breath when blood bloomed at his bottom lip. He felt at it tentatively, watching breathless as the vampire’s eyes melted molten red and the hands at his thighs tightened nearly to bruising.
“Sorry.” he rasped. “Sorry sorry sugar, I got carried away. Gimme a second t’calm down and I’ll--”
“James.” Antonio licked the spot of blood away, then crooked his fingers motioning his vampire close again. “Torna da me, come back and kiss me again.”
“You sure?” James was breathing hard, body shuddering as he fought for control, fangs aching as they extended out ravenous. “Sweet thing are you sure? Cos I’m real close to losin’ my mind right now.”
“I’m sure.” Antonio crooked his fingers again, ran his tongue over his lips and started to purse his lips… then purposefully, pointedly turned his head to bare his throat. “Slowly.”
“I’ll be slow, I’ll be--” James tripped over the word promising then gulped as a silver knife lifted off the next closest table and hovered in mid air pointed at his temple. “Oh sugar, I’ll be real slow.”
James kissed him, kissed him, then shifted sideways and laved his tongue from the curve of Antonio’s throat clear up to his ear, tasting sweat and anticipation shimmering off his mate’s skin, tracing the blush of blood racing up Antonio’s neck before coming back to Antonio’s pulse.
“I’ll be slow.” he whispered one more time, just one more time before baring his wicked fangs and sinking in to bite.
“Oh!” Antonio cried out loud at the first pierce, at the first tear, and the silver knife jolted closer. James growled at the first taste of wine scented blood, drove his teeth in deeper and Antonio’s eyes rolled back as he gasped. The silver knife dropped when the hint of fear washed away in a jolt of pleasure and he grabbed desperate at his vampire’s shoulders to keep James close.
Antonio tasted of wine and passion but beyond that, he tasted of the Carbonell silver and edge to the little chef’s blood stung at James’s tongue as he drank gulping at Antonio’s neck. It flowed fiery down James's throat like too potent alcohol and he was promptly drunk on it, moaning and dizzy and hugging Antonio in tighter and tighter against his body. He hitched Antonio’s legs higher at his waist and Antonio rolled against him eagerly, James bit harder, pulled harder and growled thrilled over the kick of Antonio’s cock against his own.
He unlocked his jaw and withdrew his teeth only so kiss his mate again, to share the heady dizzy taste of silver and copper and wine with his mate, smearing it across Antonio’s lips and chasing it with his tongue. The marks at Antonio’s throat healed over within a a few seconds beneath the vampire’s saliva and James covered them with his hand as Antonio arched up into kiss after sucking, biting kiss.
The silver centerpiece warped beneath the sound of Antonio’s cries and James took it as encouragement, took it as an order and he made short work of the fasten at Antonio’s tight trousers, grasped for a bottle of olive oil and crushed it between his fingers, shaking away the glass so he could get his slick palm around the length of Antonio’s cock and stroke at his mate.
Antonio cursed gasping into the next kiss, thrust up into the tight circle of James’s fingers with desperate, greedy little noises and James kept a hand planted at the rocking, creaking table to keep them steady. Antonio tore at the expensive table cloths carried away by the want and adoration in the vampire’s scarlet eyes and when Antonio tipped over the edge screaming out his pleasure, James darted forward to bite again, to snap his fangs into the flawless skin and sink deep to taste desire tinted wine and sharply silvered blood all over again.
The vampire pulled away only when Antonio whined over the drag of teeth in his veins. He unclenched his jaw reluctantly, gave himself the time to slowly thoroughly lap the red drops staining at Antonio’s neck, matching the rhythm to the easy stroke his hand along Antonio’s length as his mate trembled and shivered and came down with panting little noises and shaky inhales.
Finally, once the silver centerpiece had stopped shimmering and shifting, once Antonio’s heart rate had returned towards normal and after James had sated himself obsessively cleaning every hint of blood from his mate’s neck and lips--
Finally, James leaned away gasping, eyes blown wide and fangs stained messy. Antonio was shaking but flushed and eager and gorgeous and James ran his thumb possessively over the bites then reached low to drag his fingertips through the mess of spend staining at Antonio’s shirt and offer it up to his mate's lips.
“My mate.” he rumbled out and Antonio nodded, sucked olive oil and blood off the vampire and nodded--
“Sono tuo amore mio...Yours.”
****
The next day the Ristorante Carbonell smelled of taglioni pasta, of lobster and fragrant black truffles. Antonio hummed his way through the kitchen seasoning at the calamari, danced his way towards the dessert fridge to ensure his chocolate mousse was setting properly, sang love songs under his breath as he prepared fresh raviolis and pesto.
One of the dining room tables had been set in the back room needing repair for it’s splintered legs and there was very obviously one of Nonna Margaret’s handmade tablecloths missing from the laundry. One of the silver centerpieces had been relegated to kitchen decor now that it was oddly, conspicuously misshapen and replaced with one in better shape and Antonio wore his curls pointedly back from his neck rather than letting them tumble over his ears obscuring his throat.
Natalia stood at her station portioning, weighing and fashioning meatballs for lunch, and the all too observant fae managed to complete her entire task while also staring rather balefully at her boss and friend.
“Not a word.” Antonio warned as he tasted at the pesto to ensure it was ready. “Non dire diente, I do not need your sass right now. I am busy.”
“Antonio my love.” Natalia’s pointed ears flicked in his direction. “I haven’t said anything.”
“No, but I can feel you judging me.” Antonio blushed from the fang marks at his throat clear to the tip of his ears. “And I don’t want to hear it. Fatti gli affari tuoi, per favore. Mind your business.”
“Hm.” Natalia added a handful of seasoning to the ground beef. “You are so self conscious about being judged Antonio. I can't imagine away. I mean surely you had nothing to do with the broken table or ruined table cloth…?”
“Not.” Antonio blushed another shade darker. “A single. word. Hush.”
Natalia’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Si signore. Whatever you say.”
James sat in his usual spot with Samuel and Steven on either side, but when the kitchen doors opened and Antonio sashayed his way out with plates full of lunch, James got up from his seat and hurried to help his mate.
“Gonna sit and eat with us sugar?” he asked hopefully, but predictably, Antonio sniffed and announced, “Signore Barnes, I am busy. Far too busy to rest and let you grope at me, dio mio some of us have to work for a living!”
“Sorry.” James grinned fangy and unrepentant. “Dunno what I was thinking.”
“You can make it up to me later.” Antonio winked and set his fingers to his lips in a kiss. “Buon appetito.”
*****
Fic Notes:
I had a whole side plot where the wolves kidnap Tony just so we could have the Feral Big Bucky Rampaging while Brilliant Bratty Tony Is Already Saving Himself but like. This was supposed to be a one shot and now it's three chapters so I figured I should stop lol.
Will forever love basically plotless and shamelessly horny Winteriron.
Thanks for reading along!