Page 29 of Sweet Surrender
“I can’t be bothered to call a cab,” he said grumpily.
“Want me to get us home?” Knight’s heartbeat tripped again at the last word.
Saint spun around in his arms, wrapping his own arms around Knight’s torso, burrowing his face into Knight’s chest. “How are you going to do that?” He pulled back abruptly, looking briefly sober. “Wait, are you going tofly?”
Knight chuckled softly. “Not today, little bunny. I can teleport us; it’s fine.”
“If you don’t mind. If it won’t take too much of your ... magic.” He frowned, like he was realising he didn’t actually know how Knight’s magic worked.
“It won’t.” Knight wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him close, pressing them tight from head to toe. “Hold tight,” he said.
Saint had barely complied when the world melted away around them and then resolidified, and they were standing in his little abode.
“Holy shit,” Saint said. “Do that again. It happened too quickly!”
Knight laughed.
Saint blinked rapidly, only seeming to realise how dark it was. Knight tried the light switches using his magic, but nothing happened. He frowned.
“Fuck. NEPA,” Saint cursed. “At least the day is over.”
“NEPA?” Knight prompted.
“Power company,” Saint said, swaying in his arms. “They control the light in Nigeria. Or ration it. However you want to put it. Annoying pricks.”
Saint left his arms, walking unsteadily over to the bed and flopping across it, his feet and calves hanging off the edge. He rolled onto his back, each movement like it was taking everything out of him.
“We should text Teresa,” Knight said.
Saint waved a limp hand. “Yes. You do that.”
Knight grinned helplessly. He waved a hand, sending Saint yelping as his phone was magically tugged out of his pocket and floated into Knight’s hands. Knight didn’t know exactly how to work the device, but he’d watched Saint use it enough times to at least know how to direct his magic into doing the work for him.
He jolted when both phones vibrated. To Saint, Teresa had sent two little drawings of a hand doing a thumbs up. To Knight she’d sent a “Well done! He’s probably going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow, so make sure to be there to take care of him!” along with a winking cartoon face.
“I can’t be bothered to undress,” Saint complained from the bed.
Knight looked up, interrupted from replying to ask Teresa what a “hangover” was.
He dropped to his knees by the foot of the bed, sliding his hands up Saint’s legs, his lovely, thick thighs. “Do you want me to undress you?”
He saw Saint visibly shiver, his hips subtly shifting. “Fuck. Yes. Please. But no funny business.”
Knight felt a swell of fondness. “As you command.”
He started with Saint’s shoes and socks. Saint giggled as he shimmied his hips so that Knight could pull his trousers off. When he was in just his shirt and sexy little briefs—they werepale purple with little pink hearts on them—Knight noticed he was half-hard. His nostrils flared. He had to fight the urge to bury his face between Saint’s thighs, wanting to inhale his scent, to feel him grow fully hard against his lips.
He forced himself to stand instead, easing a grumbling Saint into a sitting position so he could remove his shirt. He was so drunk; it shouldn’t be this endearing, seeing him so pliant yet grumpy. The moment he was done, Saint crawled onto the mattress and underneath the covers, sinking into the pillows with a soft sigh.
Knight folded the clothes and put them in the small laundry basket sitting underneath the desk by the wardrobe.
He came back to bed, intending to sit on the outer edge until Saint fell asleep, like he’d done before.
“Do you want to cuddle?” Saint asked, looking shy and bold in equal measure, his eyes heavy lidded. He frowned, lips pursing. “No, let me rephrase that.Iwant to cuddle. Can you please come cuddle with me?”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Knight answered honestly.
He got under the covers, his breath slightly hitching when Saint moved into his arms. He pulled him close, shuddering at the easy way Saint just melted into his embrace, his face in the crook of his neck, his right arm and leg thrown over his chest and waist respectively. He didn’t know if it was the darkness, the press of their bodies underneath the sheets, but their embrace felt a million times more intimate than he’d expected.
