Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

29. The Kiss

It sucked to see the body normally so taut with energy, go limp. The eyes, normally so bright--to hood over. With an exasperated sigh, Volya knelt by the chair and hooked Liam's shoulder over his. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Liam popped one unnaturally bright eye open. "Okay."

The alcohol on his breath wasn't the usual cheap thing.

"You want to get some mouthwash?" Volya asked stoically, hefting Liam straight. For such a sinewy guy, Liam weighed a ton. Volya shifted from foot to foot under the load, while Liam pondered.

"Come on, Liam. Yes or no?"

Liam jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. "Wanna brush my teeth."

They hobbled there. Volya, who normally gagged at the smell of booze, found the note of spirits in Liam's familiar scent titillating. He wanted to press his lips onto Liam's and keep them open until he tasted that heady mix. Liam's body was pressed into his, providing details for his imaginings. He gritted his teeth for the last few yards to the bathroom, then deposited Liam at the marble countertop. There, he had done his duty...

But no!

Liam swayed threatening to topple backward, so Volya had to grab him. Instinctively he propped the taller man and the fantasies just swarmed him anew.

He fiddled blindly with the tap until the water ran tepid, not too warm and not too cold. "There you go, Liam."

Damn, but his voice was hoarse.

Liam tossed generous handfuls of water into his face, swished his mouth. Then, with the fluidity of a drunk guy, he twisted around, burying his dump, chilly nose in the hollow of Volya's shoulder. Volya stood as if paralyzed for the most part, except.... 

Liam's head tilted to allow his lips to pitter-patter from his shoulder to his neck and up to his earlobe. There, they stopped and whispered, "Enjoying yourself?"

The evidence in support of Liam's statement was overwhelming. He was enjoying himself. It wasn't like he didn't try not to. He almost put out his back in an attempt not to press into Liam specifically because he hated to act like a creep taking advantage of a drunk guy.

Volya chuckled to cover his embarrassment. "Let's... let's just get you to bed, 'kay?"

"Will you tuck me in?" How could Liam sound more innocent than a mewing kitten, while saying things like that Volya would never know.

"I'll tuck you in," Volya promised. "I'll even kiss you, if you ask nicely. But later, much, much later."

"Yes, please, to all of the above," Liam replied with a rapid-fire speed.

Volya's cheeks burned. Did it really slip out of his mouth? Good thing Liam probably wouldn't remember this conversation once he'd sobered up. He heaved a sigh and lagged his burden towards the bed.

"I should have guessed that sarcasm would be lost on you in this state."

Liam wagged his finger. "No take-backsies. You owe me a goodnight kiss."

"Slow down, Casanova." Volya dumped Liam on the bed. "God, you're heavy."

The smile that lit up Liam's face seemed both familiar and different at the same time.

"Wait a minute. Are you... are you hitting on me for real?"

Liam laughed, throwing his head back. It wasn't the nasal, senseless laugh of a drunkard. "So much angst over one measly friendly kiss. You're a gem, bae."

Maybe he was a gem, but Liam wasn't lush. Volya sat down heavily on the corner of the bed. "You aren't drunk, are you?"

"Nope. I could handle a glass of Scotch. I was just..." Liam ran his hand over his eyes and forehead, wiping away the merriment. "Hell bells, I'm not sure what I was doing. Dragging my feet instead of apologizing, I guess."

"What?"

Liam shifted on the bed and patted the vacated space. "Come, sit. Let me see your eyes and do it properly."

An industrial-strength magnetic field drew Volya to where Liam's beautiful hand rested. He scooted over and perched in a comfortable cove made by Liam's long waistline. Liam propped himself to a half-sitting position on his right elbow, and used his other hand to catch Volya's, bringing it in his lap.

Peering into his face, as promised, Liam said, "I shouldn't have put you through this, but I did. I'm sorry. I let Lydia bamboozle me with her crackpot theories into this idiotic hope—"

"It's never wrong to hope," Volya interrupted hotly. "Without hope, we're nothing."

"Look who is practically writing a song now," Liam chuckled, then fell silent, his thumb caressing the palm of Volya's hand. "And I shouldn't have said what I've said about your friend. I'm sorry for that too."

Volya swallowed. "I'm sorry for saying things to you as well."

"No, no. I get what you were trying to tell me." Liam interlocked their fingers, then tapped his knee with the resulting structure. "So, we're done with this rubbish, Volya Wolkov."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. Tomorrow, we'll leave the mad scientists' den. We'll take Marina with us and go to New York, or to San Francisco, or wherever you want."

True, Volya had wanted it. Until right now, that is, when tipsy Liam offered it to him on a silver platter with fake cheerfulness.

Now he didn't know what to say. He felt guilty for crushing Liam's hopes. So, he sat there, in silence, until his head spun from Liam's closeness.

As if picking up on his light-headed feeling, Liam's hand untangled itself and traced his thigh.

The air thickened to stillness.

"I wish I could do miracles for Anabelle... for you," Volya whispered.

"What you can or cannot do for Anabelle is the last thing on my mind right now," Liam replied.

Volya couldn't stand it any longer. His heart pounded, deafening him to the world. The Scotch on Liam's breath teased him about things he could never taste. The dizziness became too much to bear.

He leaned in, scrunched up his eyes and kissed Liam.