Chapter 1: A Night of Teasing
The alley was a narrow slit of shadow and old stone, smelling of wet pavement and something vaguely sour from the boarded-up café window. A single, flickering streetlamp buzzed overhead, painting the cobblestones in patches of watery gold and deep, restless shadow. Hank leaned against the cold brick, the rough material catching on the wool of his coat, and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long.
The click of a heel, precise and delicate, echoed down the passage. Then Kaidan stepped into the frail circle of light, and Hank’s breath simply stopped.
The wind chose that moment to gust, swirling down the alleyway. It caught the short, pink silk of Kaidan’s cape, making it flutter like a moth’s wing. It tousled the fluffy pink hair that fell across his forehead, and set the white-fur-lined bunny ears on his hood trembling. The dress, the same shade of soft blush, skimmed his thighs, the bow at its center pulling taut for a second against the breeze. He was a shock of impossible, beautiful color in the grey gloom, ankle boots with their silly, perfect heart-shaped heels steady on the uneven ground.
Hank didn’t speak. He just watched. He took in the slight nervous pinch of Kaidan’s lips, the way his fingers tightened around the strap of his little pink purse. He traced the line of his pale throat, the delicate curve of his jaw, down to where the dress hinted at the shape of his body beneath. He let the silence stretch, not to unsettle, but to savor. To brand the image onto the back of his eyelids.
“I—I can go back up,” Kaidan blurted, the words tripping over each other. He hugged his arms around himself, though the cape offered little warmth. “It’s too much, right? It’s stupid. The ears are stupid. I’ll just… I have jeans. It’ll take two minutes.” He took a half-step back, his sky-blue eyes wide and skipping away from Hank’s gaze.
That broke the spell.
Hank pushed off the wall in one smooth motion. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, the sound of his boots on the cobbles firm and final. Kaidan froze, a faint, nervous gasp leaving his lips.
“Don’t you dare,” Hank murmured, his voice low.
He didn’t grab, he settled. One large, warm hand found the dip of Kaidan’s waist, fingers spreading possessively over the slick silk. He felt Kaidan tremble. With his other hand, he gently tipped Kaidan’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. The flickering light caught in those blue pools, making them shine.
“I was just enjoying the view, baby,” Hank said, the words a rough whisper. “Taking a picture. For here.” He tapped a finger lightly against his own temple. “You look… fuck, Kaidan. You look incredible.”
He watched the anxiety in Kaidan’s face fracture, then melt. A flush crept up his neck, pink on pale skin. His lips, glossed and soft, parted slightly.
Hank didn’t wait for a reply. He bent his head, closing the last inch between them. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a claiming, a punctuation mark to his statement. He tasted the faint sweetness of Kaidan’s lip balm, felt the instant, pliant surrender as Kaidan’s body softened against his. The purse bumped against Hank’s side. One of the bunny ears brushed his cheek, absurd and tender.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder. Kaidan’s eyes were dazed, his lips visibly kissed.
“You’re not cold?” Hank asked, his thumb stroking over the silk at Kaidan’s hip.
“A little,” Kaidan admitted, his voice breathless. “But it’s… better now.”
Hank grinned, that warm, affectionate grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He nudged the hood a little more securely over Kaidan’s head, his fingers lingering to smooth the fluffy hair. “Good. Keep the ears on. I like ‘em.” He glanced down the alley toward the distant glow and murmur of the main street. “Walk with me?”
Kaidan nodded, still looking up at him as if Hank had hung the sputtering streetlamp himself. Hank kept his arm firmly around Kaidan’s waist, tucking him close against his side as they began to walk. Their steps synced slowly—Hank’s long, deliberate stride shortening, Kaidan’s quick clicks adapting.
“Where are we going?” Kaidan asked, leaning into the solid warmth of Hank’s body.
“Nowhere special. Anywhere. Just wanted you to myself for a bit.” Hank pressed a kiss to the top of the bunny-hooded head. “And I wanted everyone else to get a look at what I get to come home to.”
“Hank,” Kaidan whined, the sound muffled against Hank’s coat, but he was squeezing Hank’s side tighter.
They emerged from the mouth of the alley onto the busy sidewalk, a river of evening strollers and city light. A few heads turned. A quick glance, a double-take. Hank felt Kaidan tense minutely, his steps faltering for a half-beat.
Hank just held him closer, his hand a steady, undeniable weight on Kaidan’s hip. He dipped his head, his lips close to Kaidan’s fur-trimmed ear. “Keep walking, gorgeous. They’re just jealous.”
And under the glittering canopy of the city, with the wind carrying the scent of rain and distant food, they walked. Two figures woven together, one dark and anchored, one a bright, brave splash of pink in the deepening night, moving with purpose toward the next unknown corner.
Two figures woven together, one dark and anchored, one a bright, brave splash of pink in the deepening night, moving with purpose toward the next unknown corner.
They walked for blocks, the city’s noise a comforting blanket around their quiet conversation. Hank talked about nothing—a client at the gym who tried to lift with his back, the weird taste of his pre-workout that day. Kaidan listened, his nerves smoothing out under the steady rumble of Hank’s voice and the secure circle of his arm. He pointed out little things: a cat in a window, a neon sign with a missing letter, the way the pavement glittered where the streetlight hit a patch of embedded glass. His voice was softer now, curious, not jumpy.
“You’re quiet,” Hank observed after a while, squeezing his waist.“Just… happy,” Kaidan said, leaning his head against Hank’s shoulder. The bunny ear bent comically.“I feel like a character in one of my own panels. Out past curfew.”
Hank chuckled. “What kind of character?”
“The kind that finds trouble.Or gets rescued by it.”
“Mmm. I’m not rescuing you tonight,” Hank murmured into his hair. “I’m corrupting you.”
Kaidan shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.He didn’t reply. They turned down a quieter street, lined with shuttered boutiques and a single, still-open bodega, its fluorescent light spilling onto the sidewalk. Just past it, tucked in a recessed doorway, was a flower stand. A tired-looking older man was bundling up unsold bouquets in cellophane, the vibrant bursts of color stark against the grey stone.Hank stopped walking. Kaidan took two more steps before realizing, turning back with a question in his eyes.
“Wait here,” Hank said, his hand leaving Kaidan’s waist.He walked over to the stand. Kaidan watched, confused, as Hank surveyed the remaining flowers—tropical birds of paradise, tight-fisted roses, sprays of white lilies. He pointed to a bunch that was mostly greenery, studded with small, delicate blooms in blush pink and creamy white.Stock and sweet pea. The vendor said a price, Hank handed over cash, and accepted the bouquet, wrapped in a simple cone of brown paper.
He turned back to Kaidan, who stood perfectly still under the buzzing streetlight, his pink form almost glowing. Hank walked back, his eyes never leaving Kaidan’s face, which was a canvas of bewildered wonder.
“These,” Hank said, stopping in front of him, “are for you.”
He held them out.Kaidan looked from the flowers to Hank’s face and back again. His hands, delicate and tipped with pale polish, came up slowly. He took the bouquet as if it were made of thinnest glass.“Why?” The word was a breath.
“Because you’re beautiful,” Hank said simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. “And beautiful things should have other beautiful things.”
A single, fat tear escaped the corner of Kaidan’s eye and tracked a slow path through the powder on his cheek. He looked down at the flowers, his fluffy pink hair falling forward, hiding his face. He brought them to his nose, inhaling their faint, sweet-spicy scent.“Nobody’s ever…” he began, then swallowed. “Thank you.”
Hank hooked a finger under his chin, lifting it gently. He wiped the tear away with his thumb.“Don’t cry, baby. You’ll ruin your… whatever you’ve got on.”
Kaidan let out a wet laugh. “It’s waterproof.”
“Smart boy.” Hank’s voice dropped, thickening. “Now come here.”
This kiss was different from the first.It was slower, deeper, a conversation. Hank tasted the salt of the tear, felt the flutter of Kaidan’s lashes against his cheek. Kaidan made a small, desperate sound in the back of his throat, one hand coming up to clutch at Hank’s coat, the other carefully keeping the bouquet safe at his side.
When they parted, both their breaths were clouds in the cool air.Hank’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.
“I’m not gonna make it home,” Hank stated, the words rough.
Kaidan blinked, still dazed.“What?”
“I need you. Now.” Hank’s gaze flickered over Kaidan’s face, down the slim column of his throat, to the bow on his dress. “I can’t wait.”
Understanding dawned, sending a jolt through Kaidan that was pure liquid heat. “Here?”
“Not here.” Hank looked around, his trainer’s assessment shifting to the environment. His eyes landed on the mouth of an alley just a few yards down, darker and narrower than the first.It promised privacy. He took Kaidan’s hand, the one not holding the flowers.“Come on.”
He didn’t wait for agreement. He led, and Kaidan followed, his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drum syncopated by the click of his own heels. The alley was a service cut-through, barely wider than Hank’s shoulders, lined with overflowing industrial bins and the skeletal remains of a fire escape. The light from the street didn’t penetrate far, casting them into a deep, intimate gloom that smelled of damp brick and distant, decaying garbage.Hank stopped once they were fully enveloped by the shadows. He turned Kaidan to face him, pressing him back against the cold, rough wall. The brick scraped against the silk of the cape.
“Hank,” Kaidan whispered, a tremble in his voice.Not fear.Anticipation.
“Shhh.” Hank took the bouquet from his limp fingers and carefully set it on top of a closed dumpster lid nearby. The splash of soft color looked obscenely pure in the grimy context. Then his hands were back on Kaidan, mapping his sides through the thin silk.“I’ve been thinking about this dress all night. Thinking about what’s under it.”
“It’s just me,” Kaidan breathed.
“It’s fucking everything.” Hank’s mouth found his again, hungry and devouring. He kissed him until Kaidan was moaning openly into his mouth, until his body was arching off the wall, seeking friction. Hank’s hands slid down, over the curve of Kaidan’s ass, gripping him through the slick material.He was so small there, so perfect to hold. Hank lifted him easily, just enough to grind their bodies together.
Kaidan cried out, the sound echoing off the narrow walls. He wrapped his legs around Hank’s waist, the heart-shaped heels digging into Hank’s lower back. The position hitched the silky dress up, exposing the bare skin of Kaidan’s thighs.
“Fuck, look at you,” Hank growled, breaking the kiss to stare. He supported Kaidan with one arm, his other hand roaming up the pale, soft skin of his inner thigh, pushing the dress higher.His fingers traced the edge of lace. “Pretty fucking panties to match your pretty fucking outfit.”
“For you,” Kaidan gasped, his head falling back against the brick with a soft thud. “All for you.”
Hank’s control, the warm affection he wore so easily, snapped.The switch was brutal and complete. He let Kaidan slide down just enough to get his hand between them, his fingers pressing hard against the lace covering Kaidan’s cock.He was already hard, leaking, the delicate fabric damp.
“This what you wanted?” Hank hissed in his ear. “A walk in the dark so I could get you filthy?”
“Yes,” Kaidan whimpered, his hips pushing forward into Hank’s touch.Hank hooked his fingers into the lace and pulled. The fragile material tore with a sharp, satisfying sound.Kaidan gasped. Hank didn’t bother removing the ruined panties, just shoved them aside.He wrapped his hand around Kaidan’s cock, skin on skin, and squeezed.
Kaidan’s whole body jolted. A string of incoherent, pleading sounds fell from his lips.
Hank worked him with a brutal, practiced rhythm, his grip firm and unrelenting. He watched Kaidan’s face, watched his pretty mouth go slack, his sky-blue eyes glaze over, the pink bunny ears, ridiculous and endearing, bobbing with every thrust into his fist. He used the precum slicking the head to smooth his strokes, his thumb rubbing harshly over the slit on every upstroke.
“You gonna come just from this?” Hank taunted, his own breath ragged. “Like a desperate little slut against a wall?”
“Maybe,” Kaidan choked out.“Don’t stop.”
But Hank did stop. He pulled his hand away, ignoring Kaidan’s broken cry of protest. He fumbled with his own jeans, the button and zip loud in the silence. He pushed them and his boxer briefs down just enough to free his own erection, thick and painfully hard. The cool air hit his heated skin, a brief shock.He spat into his palm, slicking himself roughly. Then he was pressing the broad head of his cock against Kaidan’s entrance, which was already wet and loose with anticipation.
“Look at me,” Hank commanded.
Kaidan forced his dazed eyes open, focusing on Hank’s face.“This is mine,” Hank said, the words a gravelly promise.And he pushed in.
It was a slow, relentless invasion, stretching Kaidan open in the tight, unforgiving space. Kaidan screamed, a raw, unfiltered sound that was pure pleasure-pain. His nails scratched through Hank’s coat, seeking purchase. Hank swallowed the sound with another kiss, burying himself to the hilt, their bodies flush.He didn’t give him time to adjust. He started to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force drove Kaidan up the wall, the rough brick scraping the silk of his cape, threatening to tear it. The rhythm was punishing, primal. Each thrust was a claim, each grunt from Hank’s throat a vow.“So fucking tight,” Hank gasped into the crook of his neck. “Taking me so good.My good boy.”
The filthy praise lit Kaidan up from the inside. He was babbling, a stream of “yes” and “please” and “Hank, god, more.” His own cock, trapped and rubbing against Hank’s stomach with every drive, was a leaking, desperate mess.Hank changed his angle, digging deeper, and Kaidan saw stars. His vision whited out at the edges. Hank’s pace became frantic, his hips pistoning, the slap of skin on skin a stark, obscene counterpoint to the distant city hum. The dumpster lid rattled faintly with their impact.
Hank could feel his own end coiling, a tight spring in his gut. He reached between them, his hand slick with their mixed sweat and spit, and took Kaidan’s cock in a tight, twisting grip.
“Come with me,” he growled, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, impossibly deep. “Do it.Now.”
It was an order Kaidan’s body had no choice but to obey. With a shattered, sobbing cry, he came, pulsing hot stripes over Hank’s hand and his own silky dress. The intense, clenching pressure of Kaidan’s orgasm pushed Hank over the edge. He buried his face in the white fur of Kaidan’s hood, a guttural roar tearing from his chest as he emptied himself inside him, wave after wave of blistering release.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their harsh, ragged breaths and the faint drip of something from a pipe overhead. Hank stayed buried, softening inside Kaidan, holding his trembling body tight against the wall. He could feel Kaidan’s heart pounding against his own, a frantic, slowing rhythm.Slowly, gently, Hank pulled out. He carefully lowered Kaidan until his feet touched the ground, but Kaidan’s legs buckled immediately. Hank caught him, holding him upright, supporting his full weight.
“I’ve got you,” Hank murmured, his voice returned to its normal, warm timbre, though still rough at the edges. He leaned down and kissed Kaidan’s forehead, right between the bunny ears, which were now comically askew. “You okay?”
Kaidan nodded weakly against his chest. He was a mess—his dress stained, his lace panties torn and hanging off one hip, his makeup smudged. He had never looked more beautiful.Hank fixed his own clothes with quick, efficient motions. Then he attended to Kaidan, gently pulling the torn lace away and smoothing the silk dress back down over his thighs. It was ruined, but that didn’t seem to matter. He adjusted the hood, setting the bunny ears straight.“My flowers,” Kaidan whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Right here.” Hank retrieved the bouquet from the dumpster lid. The brown paper was slightly crumpled, but the blooms were still perfect, fragile and sweet-smelling. He placed them back in Kaidan’s hands, folding his fingers around the paper.
Kaidan held them close, his knuckles white.He looked up at Hank, his eyes luminous in the dark. “Take me home?”
Hank smiled, that easy, affectionate smile that made the whole violent, passionate episode feel like a dream. He wrapped his arm around Kaidan’s shoulders, pulling him close, heedless of the stains and the smell of sex.
“Yeah, baby,” he said, turning them both toward the streetlight glow at the end of the alley. “Let’s go home.”