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Darius, having grown up as a prince, grasped the basics of figuring people out while he was still just a young boy. Seated at the right side of his father, he watched hundreds of individuals come into the throne room, from peasants through ambassadors to royals. King Minos was prone to quickly lose his temper, gloating, mocking and disregarding all that stood before him—Darius, however, remained quiet and observed.
Peasants tried to inflict pity upon themselves, ambassadors hid behind formal words, royals were astute enough to try and get into the king’s good graces with flattery; and while King Minos had trouble seeing beyond the tip of his own nose, Darius noticed the sly glint in their eyes. All of them had a self-serving purpose in their visit—he just needed to figure out what purpose it actually was.
Before he even noticed, it became a habit to him. It usually took only a few words out of somebody’s mouth for Darius to see right through them (and on better occasions only one glance). Xyla, for instant, despite her intelligence, had been surprisingly easy to decipher. She craved power, an opportunity to prove herself, and above all—a cure for her boredom. She was quite blunt about it, too—part of the reason why Darius took a liking towards her almost immediately.
There was one person, however, whom Darius just couldn’t figure out: the outsider from Sun Haven, the rat who crawled into Withergate from the depths of the sewers, the peasant who was unable to watch his dirty mouth, a worthless tourist, an unwelcome guest—the list could go on endlessly.
When Darius first saw him—dark, disheveled hair glued to his sweaty forehead, clothes torn, face smeared with blood and filth—he thought to himself: That’s a tough one. Managing to sneak past the fog spell and defeating the dangerous monsters lurking in the sewer system was no small feat. One of those things, certainly achievable—but the combination of both brawn and brains was uncommon among intruders attempting to sneak into Withergate.
It couldn’t possibly escape his notice that the outsider was also a demon. Ashy skin, pointy horns, a thin tail and, most importantly, wings—feathered, glorious, purple-tinted wings even angels could be jealous of.
But, demon or not, he was still a citizen of Sun Haven, and no such would ever be welcome in Withergate. Darius said so and watched, partly amused, but mostly annoyed, as the outsider cynically raised his eyebrows.
“I thought Withergate was supposed to be a safe place for all monsterfolk?”
“If you want to become a citizen so badly, outsider,” Xyla was ready to chime in, a sly smirk spreading across her face, “why don’t you start looking for a home here? Actually, I think the apartment building down the road has vacancies. Got any tickets on yourself, sewer rat?”
It was quite obvious, by the indignant frown on the outsider’s face, that he had none. Darius let the guards escort him outside the city gates, feeling only a little disappointed. The outsider must have had an important purpose in barging into Withergate and demanding to speak with the Moon Dragon. Riches, perhaps? It was usually about riches.
Or maybe he was just a madman.
Darius settled for this convenient explanation and tried to push the thought of him to the back of his mind. The only problem was, the outsider, apparently, wasn’t keen on being forgotten so easily. The next time Darius heard about the filthy rat, he had somehow managed to get an apartment and was now working on repaying his debt to its owner.
Darius let him. He was curious.
*
When it turned out the outsider didn’t want any riches, power, influences, or even a safe place to live—that he was simply playing a hero—Darius was, above all, disappointed.
The glorite crystals laid, shining ominously, in the middle of the courtroom, while Leviathan—that was the fool’s name—was speaking. And, Darius had to admit, he spoke beautifully.
“As I demon born in a human village,” he was saying, head bowed low before the king, “I have also faced discrimination, hatred and disdain my whole life. I had been shunned, driven from one place to another, never welcome, never accepted. Withergate is a blessing for all monsterfolk, and I am above grateful, my king, that you have chosen to establish this city. I will gladly contribute to its welfare however I can.”
His father, of course, fell for it; he’d always had a weak spot for those who admitted his power.
“You speak like a true citizen of Withergate, already,” he said, a smug grin already gracing his face. “You have served me well and your loyalty will be rewarded.”
But Darius’ suspicions couldn’t be sedated as easily. The outsider was too smart, too strong, and, most importantly, too determined to be treated like any common citizen. If he actually were to stand before Dynus, the consequences, Darius knew, would be drastic. He wasn’t sure, yet, what consequences exactly those would be, but either way, he wasn’t eager to take the risk.
Leviathan flew out of the courtroom in a blink of an eye. Darius wished he could have flown out of his mind just as easily.
*
“Do you truly think you can stop Dynus?”
Chin held high, a twinkle of determination in the newcomer’s eyes. “I know I can.”
He looked so sure of himself, full of passion and rightful anger. Darius wasn’t entirely sarcastic when he wished him good luck. The newcomer was a fool, certainly, but a useful one at that; it would be a shame to see him crumble to dust so quickly.
And, Darius supposed, it would get a bit boring without him, too.
*
It was impossible not to notice the newcomer’s arrival when he chose to venture out into Withergate; the stink of fresh soil was palpable from a mile away, even in a congested crowd. Darius raised his head, scanning the horde of monsterfolk gathered around the Carnival, and soon enough, he saw a familiar figure come into view.
Walking in his direction, naturally. Darius heaved a resigned sigh, not even bothering to feel annoyed, anymore. He leaned against the railings and mentally prepared himself for the botheration that was about to come.
“So Withergate’s wannabe citizen returns to pester the prince,” he called out as soon as the figure was within hearing distance. “Clearly, you don’t understand how busy I am.”
“Hopefully I can make your hardships more bearable, my prince,” the newcomer said, a small smirk on his lips—as if every insult coming out of Darius’ mouth was merely an entertainment to him. He held out the wooden box he had been carrying. “I picked only the best out of the whole harvest.”
Darius half-expected the box to contain some sort of a prank—and least he would have a good excuse to lock the annoying fool in the dungeons—but upon opening he saw nothing but a fresh batch of ghost peppers. He let out a snort.
“You’re trying to get yourself into my good graces with a bunch of vegetables, outsider?”
“I know you consider farming to be a filthy brand of work, worthy only of peasants,” the newcomer said (Darius thought he could hear an undertone of irony in his voice, but he kindly chose to ignore it), “but I would like you to see, my prince, that it’s not as terrible of a profession that you might think it is.”
Darius examined him from head to toe. For a newcomer, he did manage to blend in quite nicely into the community of Withergate with his leather jacket, ripped jeans and combat boots.
“For a farmer, you do seem to carry yourself quite well,” he said. “I would imagine you to look more... disheveled, forced to dig in dirt for a living and all that.”
A smirk appeared on the newcomer’s face, way more proud than Darius would have liked. “I have my ways of avoiding the dirt-digging part.”
“Oh?” Darius allowed himself an eyebrow raise. “Are you trying to pique my interest?”
“If I have managed to do that,” the newcomer said, “it just so happens I need to do some planting on my rooftop farm.”
This time both of Darius’ eyebrows went up in disbelief.
“You want me, the prince of Withergate, a soon-to-be king, to set my foot on your peasant patch of dirt?”
The smirk on the newcomer’s face widened.
“If you wish to sate your curiosity, my prince.”
*
“You better stay close to the edge, my prince. It would be a shame to besmirch your royal attire.”
Darius popped another ghost pepper into his mouth—of a fine quality, true to the newcomer’s word—and watched as Leviathan crouched in the middle of the rooftop, pressing the palms of his hands to the ground’s surface. A moment later, Darius felt a trembling underneath his feet; then, the ground erupted, opening itself up to the farmer’s will.
Leviathan turned back to him and bowed theatrically.
“A fine trick,” Darius admitted, “but, if I’m not mistaken, there still remains the drill of planting and watering, does it not?”
“Remarkable knowledge, my prince,” Leviathan said, not taking his eyes of his work at hand—scattering seeds around the newly created field. “Truly, perhaps you should consider changing your profession.”
“Don’t push your luck, outsider. Just because I chose to grace you with my presence does not mean—”
He paused, his attention distracted by what was happening overhead. Out of nowhere, a huge, dark cloud began forming, and soon enough it started to rain above the field. Darius’ natural instinct was to take a step back, but he soon realized it wasn’t necessary—not a drop of water had fallen outside of the field’s boundaries.
“I did have a couple of slip-ups when I first started practicing the spell,” Leviathan said, undoubtedly having noticed Darius’ reaction, “but the rain is now under my control, not the other way around. You needn’t worry about getting yourself wet, my prince.”
Having made his way back towards Darius, he stole one of the ghost peppers from the box, lips twisted into his usual smirk. Darius was unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“I will give in, then, and raise your already unhealthily inflated ego a little bit higher,” he said. “For a little nobody, the easiness with which you control your powers is quite impressive. Are you sure, though, that those cheap tricks will be enough to defeat Dynus?”
“It almost sounds like you’re worried about me, my prince.”
A scoff escaped Darius’ mouth. “I may have come to enjoy your company, Leviathan, but you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.”
He only realized that he had said one word too many when the smirk on Leviathan’s face shifted, almost imperceptibly. It looked like a genuine smile, now.
“If you say so, prince Darius.”
*
Darius didn’t get attached to people. He didn’t miss his mother, he loved his father mostly out of a sense of duty, and his friends, although he valued them greatly, could be easily replaced in case of any complications.
It was because of this reason that he found his current state so strange; and the said state was, without a trace of doubt, pathetic. Constantly, he caught himself thinking of Leviathan, was it in the middle of work, royal duties or his time off. Each time he went out into the carnival he absent-mindedly scanned the crowd in the search of a familiar glimpse of purple.
He couldn’t blame it on curiosity anymore. It was an entirely different sensation, one that made his stomach twist and heart flutter; a constant reminder that, despite his status and power, he still remained a mortal, not above petty cravings of the flesh.
He did not like it one bit.
There was a chill in the air, palpable even atop the castle’s balcony. It was a place where he always went when he needed to remind himself who he was—Prince Darius, son of King Minos, a future ruler of Withergate. Rulers didn’t have time for meaningless fancies. Rulers had to focus solely on—
A loud creak sounded behind him. He turned around to see no one else but Leviathan standing in the doorway, an unsure smile on his lips.
“My prince,” he said. “It’s been a while since we last spoke privately. May I join you?”
Get out of my sight, Darius should have said. I can’t waste my time with peasants like you.
“Please, do so,” was what came out of his mouth, instead.
Visible relief washed over Leviathan’s face. Closing the door behind him, he took a place next to Darius. As he leaned against the railing and took in the view of Withergate, Darius couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He couldn’t understand, for the life of his, what was there about this insignificant demon that captivated him so wholly.
Insignificant and filthy. Darius was beyond disappointed in himself.
“Is that dirt on your face, Leviathan?”
“Oh!” Leviathan exclaimed, bringing his hand up to his cheek. Seeing it covered in blackish dust, he laughed, as if being caught in such a state in the company of Prince of Withergate was amusing rather than embarrassing. “I apologize, my prince. I have been mining not long ago.”
“Mining?” Darius repeated, not entirely successful in masking the disbelief in his voice. “I already told you, Leviathan, you’re too fine a person to be digging in dirt. If you need resources, I could have that arranged for you.”
“As much as I appreciate your offer, my prince, I need to decline.” A smirk twisted Leviathan’s lips. “Whatever I need to get done, I always do it myself. It’s the only way to make sure it’s done properly.”
“I suppose that is a good philosophy to follow,” Darius admitted. After all, didn’t he act by a similar mindset?
He wondered, not for the first time, whether it was really possible that he had something in common with the likes of people whom he had always considered to be lower than him.
He tried to recall what he was thinking about before Leviathan had interrupted him. What was the subject of his musings? What a ruler ought to focus on, surely—and as much as Darius focused on his duties, deep down he was nothing but a hedonist. He cupped Leviathan’s cheek in the palm of his hand and ran a thumb over the corner of his lips. He looked surprised for only a split second; then, a light smile lightened up his face.
“May I ask you a question, my prince?” he asked.
“Call me by my name, Leviathan.”
“Very well.” Leviathan leaned into Darius’ touch, inching closer. “May I kiss you, Darius?”
Darius couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his mouth. “You’re too bold for your own good.”
“You like it.”
“I do?”
Instead of answering, Leviathan closed the gap between their lips. It wasn’t one of those shy, uncertain kisses which Darius so despised. No—this kiss was no less full of passion than the person who delivered it.
Each thrum of Darius’ quickened heartbeat seemed to mock him; he liked it, he liked it, he loved it. It was what he lived for.
It was only after Leviathan’s departure that Darius realized his right hand was covered in a thin layer of soot. He promised himself that the next time he and Leviathan met privately, it would be in a bath full of hot water.
Yes, Darius thought, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips, the next time.
*
There was many, way too many people gathered in the castle’s halls. The commotion and excited chatter was preventing Darius from completing his princely duties (which currently consisted of having to complete a huge stack of paperwork), and getting interrupted during his duties was the absolute last thing he could tolerate. Forcing his way through the crowd, he approached the familiar figure of his friend.
“What, for hell’s sake, is going on here?” he asked Xyla, taking a place next to her before the very entrance to Dynus’ altar room.
“I told you, Darius,” Xyla said, flashing him an ugly smirk, “that the sewer rat had a death wish.”
It took Darius only a second to realize. When he listened closely he could hear, apart from the chatter of the crowd, the muffled sounds of combat—and, most definitely, the growls of an infuriated dragon. His first instinct was to grab his sword and barge through the door, unconcerned with any consequences of such an irrational act, and he would have undoubtedly done it if Xyla hadn’t held him back.
“Don’t be an idiot, Darius,” she hissed, roughly pulling him back by his arm. “Even if your imbecile boyfriend gets himself killed, it won’t do him any good to have you fried to a crisp as well.”
“Watch your mouth, Xyla,” he retorted, voice cold with fury, even though he knew she wasn’t wrong. “I might consider you my friend, but that doesn’t give you the right to speak ill of my partner.”
“You’re right,” she snorted. “It is quite low to speak ill of the dead.”
“Don’t you dare—”
Darius abruptly paused. The door to the altar room opened, and through it stepped a fully armoured, but visibly battered demon. His purple wings, pathetically sagged at his sides, were burnt at the edges and tainted with blood.
At the sight of Darius, Leviathan smiled—wearily, but nevertheless triumphantly. He took a step towards him and swayed, losing his balance. Darius caught him with ease.
“I told you I could do it,” he heard Leviathan mutter into the crook of his neck. “And I did. I did it.”
“You fool,” Darius sighed, fuming with both anger and relief. “You utter, absolute fool.”
*
Silence prevailing in Darius’ chambers was being disrupted only by Leviathan’s steady breathing. Darius watched his chest’s continuous rise and fall, finding it comforting to his frayed nerves. Up, and down. Up, and down. He looked so fragile like this. How could Darius ever allow himself to get attached to something so fragile?
Leviathan’s body stirred. At first Darius thought it was nothing but another nightmare. He reached out and ran his hand through Leviathan’s hair—a gesture he knew he found calming. Leviathan opened his eyes and groggily blinked up at him.
“Darius,” he said, voice raspy, but clear.
“Who else could it be, Leviathan, nurturing the wounds of your stupidity?”
“So you are mad at me.”
Darius let out a sigh, more tired than annoyed. He took the glass of water standing at the bedside table and held it out for Leviathan to drink.
“How could I not be mad, seeing you risk your life so foolishly?”
Leviathan took one sip, coughed it up, and took another few. To Darius’ dismay, he pushed the rest of the water away and propped himself up on his elbows.
“But you understand why I had to do it, Darius.”
“Naturally,” Darius said, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “You had to be the hero and save those weak, helpless humans about which, for a reason unknown to me, you appear to care about. Now that you’re awake, would you like to run back to them and announce the good news?”
“No,” Leviathan whispered, his face softening. He reached for Darius’ hand and pressed a kiss to its palm. “They can wait.”
Darius let himself get pulled down into a kiss. He tried to be gentle, at first, aware of the freshly treated cut on Leviathan’s lips; Leviathan, however, clearly wasn’t satisfied with ‘gentle’. Opening up his mouth for Darius’ tongue, he tugged at his shirt until he fell atop of him; and although Darius’ body responded compulsively, eager for the contact, the roughness of bandages on Leviathan’s chest quickly brought him back to reality. He pulled back.
“You need to rest, Leviathan,” he said. “You’re still hurt.”
“Take care of me, then,” Leviathan murmured, laying a serie of kisses on Darius’ neck. His hands were all over Darius’ torso, gradually progressing down, closer towards the bulge on his crotch. “Please,” he whispered. “I need you, Darius.”
Did Darius mention already he was a hedonist and lacked the appropriate self-control?
He decided to take pity on Leviathan’s meek attempts at undressing him. Swiftly, he began unbuttoning his shirt, not failing to notice the hungry gaze with which Leviathan followed his fingers as they moved. As soon as the shirt was off, Leviathan eagerly reached out to caress Darius' exposed stomach. He leaned in to press a kiss to his abdomen, then underneath his navel; before he could move his lips any lower, however, Darius grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head away. Leviathan let out a whimper, half-pained and half-frustrated, but Darius only smiled.
“Do you need something, Leviathan?”
“Your cock,” Leviathan said, gaze not leaving his. He turned his head to take Darius’ thumb into his mouth—an attempt to drive him crazy, and quite a successful one, too.
“What was that?” Darius muttered, enjoying the feel of Leviathan’s mouth gently sucking on his thumb, as well as his tongue swirling around its tip. There was nothing more that he wanted, at the moment, than to have him do those exact things to a different part of his body which was currently twitching desperately in the confinement of his underwear; and although they both realized, they loved to play this game.
“I need your cock,” Leviathan mumbled, pulling back just enough to be able to speak. “In my mouth. Please.”
“That’s cheating.” Darius trailed his thumb over Leviathan’s lips, half-opened and covered in saliva. “You know I can’t resist you when you beg, darling.”
The last word ended with a low hiss as Leviathan squeezed him through the fabric of his trousers. His movements were sluggish, but well-practiced, and within seconds Darius’ cock wound up in the warmth of Leviathan’s mouth.
Darius let Leviathan slowly work him, grasping and pulling at his hair while admiring the view. And it was quite a view to look at—eyes dark and heavy-lidded, coming up to lock with his, head bobbing forwards and backwards without a pause, hand palming his own erection through his trousers.
Darius wasn’t sure if he’d ever get enough of it. Didn’t want to ever get enough of it.
He pulled Leviathan’s head away and, before any whines of disappointment could escape him, he closed his mouth with a kiss and gently gestured him to lay down. He bit down on his neck, turning the paleness of its skin purple, before whispering in Leviathan’s ear, “Turn around.”
Leviathan eagerly did so, sprawling out on his belly like a spoiled pet ready for caresses. Darius smiled to himself as he kissed along the line of Leviathan’s spine.
“You’ve already gotten used to being indulged, haven’t you?”
“I don’t mean to be—” Leviathan perked up at once, but Darius shushed him.
“Easy, darling,” he said as he stripped Leviathan of his trousers. “You deserve every bit of it.”
Leviathan didn’t seem eager to protest, especially after Darius’ tongue began its movement. With a gasp, he arched his back, his head falling back onto the pillow. After a while of helplessly thrusting his hips further into the source of pleasure, he reached out to grasp himself; Darius, however, pulled his hand away, holding it in firmly in place.
“Please,” Leviathan breathed.
“’Please’, what?”
“Please, more.”
“More?” Darius replaced the tongue with his thumb, earning a gratified moan from Leviathan. “Would that be enough, darling?”
“No,” Leviathan huffed. “I need you to fuck me. Please, fuck me, Darius.”
“Since you ask so nicely...” Darius said, an air of nonchalance to his voice, even though he was more than eager to comply.
He entered Leviathan, slowly and steadily, even though his whole body ached to pound into him until he’d turn into a whining, breathless mess beneath Darius. When he bottomed out, his cock fully enveloped by the warm flesh, they both gasped, Leviathan’s muscles compulsively tightening.
“Is that what you want, darling?” Darius asked, running his nails over the soft skin of Leviathan’s back, making him shiver, grinding his hips further into Darius’.
“Yes,” he said. “Now please, please, f—”
His words turned into a surprised whimper as Darius drew back and immediately thrust back into him. He kept up the pace, savoring the moans escaping Leviathan’s throat, turning more and more guttural with each thrust. He revelled in the knowledge that those sounds were his, and only his, to hear.
He grasped Leviathan by his hair, forcing him to arch his body upwards. He laid a hurried kiss to the back of his neck and half-breathed, half-growled into his ear, “You’re mine, Leviathan.”
“I’m yours,” he heard him whisper in response. Darius gripped Leviathan’s cock and began stroking, receiving a low moan in return.
“Say that again?”
“I’m yours,” came Leviathan’s shaky voice. “I’m— fuck—”
His voice caught in his throat and his whole body turned rigid as he climaxed, the muscles of his back straining and head falling backwards onto Darius’ shoulder. Darius greedily watched the face of his lover scrunched up in pleasure, the pleasure he was delivering, and felt himself tip over the edge. He bit down on Leviathan’s shoulder to stifle his own moans and gave in to the bliss of an orgasm as well.
They both stayed like this for a longer moment, silently catching their breaths, until Darius noticed the tremble of Leviathan’s body. He laid him down on the dry side of the bed and pulled him into an embrace, hand automatically coming up to stroke his hair.
“Easy, love,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Leviathan’s temple. “It’s alright.”
Silence enveloped the room once more. Calmed by Leviathan’s gradually steadying breathing near his ear, Darius found himself drifting off to sleep. Soon, however, Leviathan’s voice brought him back to consciousness.
“I should be going back, Darius.”
“What the hell for?”
“My crops,” he said. “In Sun Haven, it’s already...”
“Spring.” If Darius wasn’t as exhausted as he was now, he would have rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know.”
Leviathan raised his head to shot Darius a perplexed look. “You know?”
“You always reek of fresh soil during spring. That, and... Something sweet.”
Leviathan’s lips twisted into a condescending smile. “Flowers, you mean?”
“Flowers, let it be,” Darius complied, wincing ostentatiously. He was pleased to see it elicited a laugh from Leviathan.
“I know you’re allergic to everything that’s sweet, but...”
“Nonsense,” Darius cut him off. “I handle being around you just fine, do I not?”
“Shush,” Leviathan said, though the smile on his face only widened, and his cheeks became redder. “I was thinking, Darius, that there are some things about the outside world that you might enjoy. For example, when the leaves wither during fall. It’s a mesmerizing view, especially when the sun is dipping beneath the horizon.”
“When the sun dips beneath the horizon, Leviathan, everything becomes a mesmerizing view.”
“And during winter,” Leviathan continued, “the snow practically glows in the moonlight.”
“Are you perhaps trying to convince me to something, Leviathan?”
“Maybe I am,” he said, drawing circles with his finger around Darius’ chest, seemingly in an absent-minded manner. Darius sighed.
“For you, Leviathan,” he said, “I might even go for a walk under the full sun.”
Leviathan’s face brightened up. “You would?”
“No,” Darius was quick to reply. “It was a figure of speech. Don’t make me do that.”
With a laugh, Leviathan leaned in to kiss him. “I wouldn’t, love.”
He made to leave, but Darius pulled him back into his embrace.
“Would you stay with me for a bit longer?” he asked. He reached for Leviathan’s hand and pressed a kiss to its back. “Please.”
It was Leviathan’s turn to sigh, though a smirk was still tugging at his lips.
“Now, that’s unfair,” he said. “You know I can’t say no when you ask like that.”
*
When Darius was born, people talked.
They gossiped about his diminutive features, the strangely human appearance, the lack of hooves, tail, wings, or even horns. They claimed it was the foretelling of their race’s downfall, a curse, a noxious influence of the outside world.
Nobody dared to say that to his face, but Darius wasn’t oblivious to the curious looks of the citizens, nor to the whispers among the royal staff. He was born different, and he had always knew. He was born weak.
His father made sure he received the absolute best training—made sure his son was to grow up strong and mighty, just like the ruler ought to be. Darius trained, and trained, eager to defy each expectation, each unkind rumor of his presumed weakness. He wanted to be feared, not pitied.
On the day his horns were fully grown, Darius knew his father heaved a sigh of relief.
Because of all that, Darius was used to hearing people talk behind his back. When he was walking up to the altar, the murmurs of the surrounding guests, mostly citizens of Sun Haven, didn’t concern him. All he chose to focus on was Leviathan’s face, and the smile which was brightening it up at the sight of his future husband.
It was his idea, naturally, to host the ceremony in the human town.
“It could be seen as a final truce between our towns,” he said and, smiling, added, “And to make sure everyone knows I belong to you.”
It was the latter that ultimately convinced Darius.
“Are you alright?” Leviathan asked in an undertone, now, when Darius joined him.
“Why shouldn’t I be, love?” he asked. There was, in fact, hundreds of reasons why he could feel uncomfortable at the moment; they all seemed outshone, however, by the simple fact that today he would get to make the love of his life his, and vice versa.
“Well,” Leviathan raised an eyebrow, “they are talking.”
Darius leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep, ignoring the disapproving look the human clerk had shot him.
“Let them.”