We Don't Die

Chapter title: When the Vow Breaks
Rating: R
Musical Inspiration: Temptation by VAST

Author’s note: Despite the fact that Sheldon’s little alcove only seemed to exist in season 1 of the show, back when the crime lab was in the basement rather than the thirty-fifth floor, I’m still convinced that there’s a similar niche in the new crime lab.

Mac often wondered why so many people in the Crime Lab disliked him. He hadn’t really fed in a decade—he was slowly killing himself because he wasn’t feeding, in fact—and yet they all seemed to think that he was some sort unnatural monstrosity that needed to be put to death. What was odder was that they all seemed to like Chad. Chad was a vampire too.

Chad had invited Mac to go to a blood bar with him more than once, where humans and vampires could mix and mingle. Mac had turned him down because he wasn’t sure that he could stop once he’d started. Chad hated that Mac was doing this to himself and at the same time he figured that Mac had his reasons. Thus, Chad extended the offer only on occasion, to let Mac know that he was still concerned and yet to give the guy his space.

Mac waved a hello to Chad on the way up to his office. Chad gave him a solemn look before giving his own wave in return, and Mac sighed. He’d made his choice, dammit, and he didn’t want to go through life just feeding on anyone that would offer… or at least that was what he told everybody. The real reason he’d stopped feeding was known only to very few people, Stella and Flack included, and in light of that reason those people could see why he’d stopped.

Ten years might seem like a long haul to most people, but those people weren’t quasi-immortal. Mac sighed again. So many humans dreamed of living forever. “Forever,” he mused, “is a lot longer than they think.”

He beat Stella to his office and took his time to sit down and get situated before she showed up. Before she did, though, Mac had another visitor pop in: Flack. The detective entered Mac’s office without even knocking and plopped into a chair facing Mac’s desk, ignoring the older man’s lifted eyebrow. “I wanna talk,” Flack said instead.

Mac sighed. “Don, I already know what you’re going to say—“

“What? What am I gonna say?” Flack interrupted, one leg bouncing on the floor before he settled back in the chair and cocked an ankle over his knee, adopting a pose of studied indifference. That set alarms ringing in Mac’s head; for the young man to be this edgy was a sign that he was really working on his last nerve.

Mac thought for a moment. “You’re going to start harping about how I never feed anymore.”

“That’s partly it.” Flack put his foot back on the floor and abruptly leaned forward, clasping his hands. “I gotta confession to make, Mac. I’m scared.”

Mac blinked. “Scared? Scared of what?”

Flack lifted a hand to point at Mac’s face. “That.”

Mac just looked at him. “My face is scaring you.”

Flack nodded. He swallowed and leaned back again. “You remember when I was growin’ up? Well… even back then, I knew there was somethin’ different about you. I was never really scared of ya, and you were good friends with Ma and Dad and Grandpa, or at least Dad. After a while, though, I noticed somethin’: I grew up, my brothers grew up, Dad and Ma started gettin’ older, but you… you were always Mac. You never changed.”

Mac leaned back in his own chair. “Is this going anywhere?”

“Gimme a minute. I’m…” Flack sighed and raked fingers through his hair. “When I was a kid, you were always the same guy. You looked the same, you acted the same… from the time I was in diapers ‘til the time I was in a uniform, you never changed. I guess I took somethin’ from that. I mean, it was nice to have somethin’ constant in my life, that no matter what happened and no matter how much time went by, you’d always be you.” He glanced at the floor and then looked at Mac, his eyes both heavy and nervous. “You look different, Mac, ever since Claire—“

“Don.” Mac snapped the word out flatly, his tone a definite warning.

Flack glared at him. “What are you gonna do, gimme a whuppin’?”

“Do you need one?” Mac growled.

Flack stood his ground. “I’m gonna say this, Mac, whether you wanna hear it or not. But ever since Claire died, you’ve changed. You’re gettin’ older, you’re gettin’ grumpier. When was the last time you visited the old block, huh? Checked to see how everybody was doin’? Have you made sure that no other vamp’s tried to claim it?”

Mac sighed. “It’s been a while,” he admitted.

Flack’s voice became strained, the closest to tears that Mac had heard it ever since Don’s father had been killed. “You’re changin’, Mac. You’re not who you used to be. I grew up knowin’, believin’ that you’d never change. And every time I see your face nowadays… it scares the hell outta me.”

Mac’s face grew hard. “So you want me to start feeding again, is that it? So I’ll look the way I used to?”

Flack gave a sideways nod. “It’d be nice if you looked like that again, but I’m more worried about the fact that you’re tryin’ to off yourself.”

Mac’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t commit suicide all those years ago, Don, when my country turned its back on me. I’m not about to start now.”

“Then what do you call this, huh?” Flack hopped to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at Mac’s face. “You’re fuckin’ starvin’ yourself to death!”

Mac stood as well, resting his fists on his desk. “So it’s all right to keep myself well-fed when it means breaking into people’s homes and drinking their blood and fucking them in their sleep? Rape and home invasion? We’re both police officers, Don, you should know better than that!”

Flack’s mouth opened, closed, opened again. Mac had said ‘fucking’ at work, and that was another signal to Flack that Mac really was losing his control. And that scared Flack even more. “I’m just…” he trailed off as all the anger went out of him, and in Flack’s face Mac saw the face of the little boy that had befriended him so many years ago. “I just want my Uncle Macky back. The guy that actually gave a damn about everybody else, you know?”

That threw Mac for a moment, and he blinked. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“Not since I was twelve, at least,” Flack allowed. Both of them mentally passed over the events of that year, as the memories were still something they didn’t like to bring up. “I’ve noticed somethin’. You tell people that you ain’t fed in ten years… but Claire’s only been dead for seven. You were with her for what, three? You act like those three years don’t count. Hell, I haven’t heard you say her name since she died, Mac.”

Mac rested more weight on his hands on his desk, letting his head sag and blowing out a heavy breath. “I told you why, Don. I told you why I never talk about her. Just thinking her name… it’s one thing to lose a wife, but it’s quite another to lose a bondmate.”

Flack’s gaze softened. “I know about the whole Bonding thing between vamps and humans, Mac. You told me how close you were… like you were really one person, ya know? I thought it was kinda cool, how you guys’ hearts beat at the same time. Ya always had the same heart rate as her, no matter what you were doin’.”

Mac nodded without looking up. “Two halves of the same whole. And then she…” he paused. “It’s easier if I forget about that time. I don’t want to forget about her, but I never had this problem until I met her. I wouldn’t say I was feeding from her as much as I would say that, well… we supported each other. Three years of literally sharing a soul, and then…”

Flack swallowed and hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I just… wanted to talk. Let ya know.”

Mac nodded. “I understand.” He closed his eyes and casually swiped a wrist across his cheek, leaving a bright red smear on both his hand and his face. He looked at his hand and sighed, and took the handkerchief that Flack held out to him. “I can’t even think about her without getting like this, so… I haven’t gone feeding in ten years.”

Flack gave a slow nod of infinite sadness. “I hear ya.” Not knowing what else to do, he ran his fingers through his short black hair again. He’d gotten a trim just the other day and he was still getting used to it.

Mac wiped the blood from his face and cast a quick glance at the younger man, seizing the new topic. “I like the new haircut. Looks a lot better than that comb-over.” And then he paused. “Sorry. The family resemblance gets to me sometimes. I guess I was thinking of your father.”

Flack sighed. “No, Mac, you were thinkin’ of my grandfather.”

Awkward silence.

Mac blinked and sighed. “Time moves too fast. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I’m not bouncing you on my knee or helping you with your homework anymore.” He was quietly thoughtful for a moment. “Speaking of which, when are you planning on settling down?”

Flack saw the change of subject for what it was, but he let it slide. “What, you miss changin’ diapers that bad?” And then he realized what he’d said and he flushed. “Don’t even start.”

Mac made his face stern but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You forget that I was wiping that butt before you could wipe it yourself, so you know you can’t hide anything from me. I know you too well.” He cocked his head and smiled more broadly. “That girl you took out the other night, what was her name? How’d the date go?”

Flack glared at the floor. “Her name’s Devon, she’s great, and she ain’t lookin’ to settle down any time soon. And neither am I, by the way.”

Mac sighed good-naturedly and sat back down. “The world needs more Flacks. After your brothers moved away, you’re the only one around here that I can dote on.”

“Relax, Mac. We both know that you’re gonna be changin’ my grandkids’ diapers, so what’s the rush? You’re almost as bad as Ma.”

“I’m fulfilling my duties as your godfather.” Mac nudged some papers on his desk. “And now I’m going to fulfill my duties as your boss. Get to work.”

Flack rolled his eyes and gave a defeated sigh. “Yes, Uncle Macky.”

Mac chuckled. “And no backtalk, or I’ll call you—“

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” Flack griped, moving to leave the office.

Mac said it anyway. “Have a safe night, Quackers.”

Donald Flack Jr.’s shoulders hunched like he’d been smacked on the head upon hearing his old childhood nickname, and he growled loudly as he stalked down the hallway. Mac chuckled to himself for a moment, and then Stella was knocking on the open glass door.

She eyed his hair, still slightly damp from his shower but neatly combed, and got down to business. They were reviewing a case file that was going to court in a couple of days. Mac hated going to court for the sole reason that he had to stay up so late and then dodge sunlight until he could get to the courthouse. He had a big black umbrella for that purpose, but still. He pushed aside his irritation and fell into discussing the case with Stella, and they shut away the rest of the world until the world needed them.

Ever notice how your sense of smell becomes hypersensitive when you’re extremely hungry?

Mac jerked his head up from the file, completely unaware of the fact that he’d stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes locked onto a single figure as though they had a mind of their own. That figure was Danny, recently back in the lab after going out on call. Danny was in the layout room now and he was processing evidence he’d just brought back.

Mac could smell it, Danny smelled like… smelled like… sex. The scent hit chemical receptors in Mac’s brain that had lain mostly untouched for seven years, and he could feel every muscle in his body clench. His eyes were locked onto the dark-blond head and it was only his own considerable willpower that kept him from going out into the lab and bending Danny over the huge backlit table and yanking down his pants and biting him in the neck and fucking him senseless.

“Mac?” Stella saw the look that crossed her friend’s face, a look that she’d never seen there before: a hunger, a predatory lust, a bestial drive that rather unnerved her. She followed his eyes to Danny, furrowed her brows in confusion, and tapped him hard on the shoulder. “Mac,” she growled, louder.

Mac blinked and shook his head, and then he suddenly realized that he was standing almost with his nose pressed against the glass wall of his office. He didn’t remember standing up or putting the file down. “Huh? Oh, sorry, I…”

“What was so fascinating about Danny all of a sudden? You looked like you were about to run over there and throw him to the ground.”

Mac turned his back on the lab. “I, ah… I think he… just finished. Himself.”

It was Stella’s turn to blink. “Huh?”

“Pheromones. He smells like he just… came.”

Stella’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “You can smell that?”

“I don’t just smell it, Stel, I can taste it. And did I ever tell you that to an incubus, pheromones are like catnip?” He couldn’t help it; he turned to look at Danny again. The scent drew him, beckoned him, urged him closer. Just a little taste. Danny wouldn’t even notice… at first.

Stella clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Mac, you look like something out of a cartoon.” At his puzzled blink, she rolled her eyes. “You know, cheese on the table, the smell floats through the house and lifts the mouse up by the nose and he just glides over to it? Yeah, you kinda look like that.”

“I…” Mac scratched the back of his neck and forcibly turned away again. “I either need to open a window or get out of this lab, or send him away for some reason. I can’t stand it, Stel, it’s driving me crazy!”

Stella looked at him with compassion. “You’re really losing control of it, aren’t you?” At his defeated nod, she gave him an encouraging pat on the back. “I’ll ask him to go to the break room for a bit.”

Mac nodded his thanks. “I’m going to make a break for the morgue. I won’t be able to smell it as strongly down there.”

Apparently Mac wasn’t the only one that could smell it; Chad had wandered over to Danny and was saying something. Danny furrowed his brows but started bagging up his evidence. Stella arrived there and helped him out, and then Danny’s face was still puzzled as the woman and the vampire walked with him to the break room.

Mac wondered what they were saying to him, but then he decided that he had more important things to worry about. He waited until he couldn’t see them—he could still smell them just fine, though—and headed for the elevator as quickly and as casually as he could.

There was nobody sharing the elevator with him, and people gave him a wide berth as he stalked quickly for his little hole-in-the-wall. Sid noticed him come in, saw the stress on his face, and left him alone. Mac was grateful for that, and he stepped into his home-away-from-home and sat down on the cot and let out a breath that he’d probably been holding for five minutes now (not like it had done much good).

What in the hell could have happened in the last three hours to get Danny so aroused that he had to sneak off and masturbate? Mac thought hard. Danny had just gotten back from a call, so he hadn’t been in the lab longer than thirty minutes. And the only unusual thing he could’ve encountered was the usual lab-tech gossip.

And what unusual event had occurred that morning in Reconstruction? Of course Danny hadn’t heard about it until he’d gotten in; he’d been off yesterday and he’d had to clock in early today in order to take that call. Mac would’ve taken that call himself, but he’d waited too long to go home that morning and the sun had come up, and so he’d stayed here.

Mac’s libido suddenly wanted nothing more than to force the two events together as cause-and-effect: Mac licking Lindsay’s blood and Danny beating off. And then the wave of scent—slightly diminished this time—hit his nose again and Mac realized that Danny had entered the Autopsy Theatre. Mac made himself stare at the floor and hoped Danny wouldn’t notice him in here and realize that his boss was hiding from him for his own good.

Mac’s subconscious was screaming for him to march over there and grab Danny by the arm and yank him back over to this cot and drink from him and fuck him until the neighbors complained about the noise. And considering that most of the ‘neighbors’ were corpses in this area of the lab…

The scent drew closer, and as Mac’s nose sorted out all the pheromones he was paralyzed by the sudden realization: he’s still horny. He just got off and he’s still horny. He’s drowning in pheromones. Mary Mother of God, I have to get out of this building before I nail him through a wall.

“Mac?”

Danny’s voice, so close. Mac closed his eyes, gripped his knees. He couldn’t look. He didn’t even think to hold his breath to stop the scent; he didn’t want to freak Danny out by not breathing, and he only wanted to sit there, to bask in the scent, to let it overwhelm him—

“Mac, you okay? Ya don’t look so good.”

Danny’s voice was very close, and Mac realized that Danny had stepped into the little alcove with him. Oh dear God, no. “Danny,” he whispered hoarsely, “now is not a good time.”

“Whassa matter?” Genuine concern from Danny.

Could Mac be honest? Danny knew that Mac was a vampire; did he know what kind of vampire? Did Danny know that he was driving Mac to a point he hadn’t crossed in ten years?

“Is it me?”

Mac’s eyes popped open. Against his will, his eyes traveled to the Italian again and this time there was something in his gaze that Mac hadn’t noticed before. Danny instantly looked away.

It wasn’t a look-away of disgust. More like…

“I’ll be damned,” Mac muttered. It was more like Danny couldn’t bear to meet Mac’s gaze because he’d just finished jerking off and thinking about a certain incubus.

Danny blinked and finally looked at him neutrally. “What? You’re actin’ kinda funny. You sure you’re okay?”

Mac froze, and for some reason his mouth decided to spill the beans. “Did you know that I’m an incubus, Danny? Did you know that I can smell when a person is aroused, smell it from quite a large distance in fact, and did you know that it drives me absolutely fucking insane?”

It was the first time Danny had ever heard his boss cuss like that at work; also apparently Danny hadn’t realized that Mac was an incubus. Vampire, yes, but not an incubus. The Italian blinked furiously for a few moments, and to Mac the flicking of those eyelashes was almost hypnotic. He could always mesmerize Danny, of course. Danny was looking at him.

Mac snapped his gaze away and shook his head to clear it. “You might want to leave, Danny. Before I lose control of myself.”

Danny was quiet for a long moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mac, but you’ve been losin’ it for a while now. It’s obvious that you’re wearin’ thin, and I ain’t the only one that’s noticed.”

Mac sneered at the floor. “So what, you’re down here tormenting me?”

“No, I’m here ta help.” Danny’s voice was calm, sincere. “I’ve always wondered what it was like.”

Mac lifted an eyebrow, still not looking at him. “What what was like?”

Danny shrugged casually. “Wakin’ up with teeth in my neck and a dick up my ass.”

Mac’s jaw went slack and he could feel his fangs sliding out, feel the feeder-serum welling up in them. He wasn’t sure what was about to start leaking first, his fangs or his dick. Because right now Danny would have to be blind to miss Mac’s hard-on.

Mac was suddenly filled with self-loathing. “Don’t tempt me, Danny. I’m not joking. I haven’t fed in over a decade, I’m starving, and you’re radiating pheromones like nothing I’ve never known. I’m your boss, Danny. I don’t want to—“

“Ya ain’t takin’ advantage of me and ya ain’t doin’ anythin’ I don’t want, Mac.” Danny had the nerve to lean closer, right in Mac’s ear. Sensually he whispered, “I want ya.”

Mac’s entire frame trembled with the effort to stay still. Danny had just given him Consent and he could feel the last barriers snapping away. “You don’t want me right here, do you? Right now?” he managed to growl. “Because unless you want me to fuck you through the floor right in this very room, I suggest you stop tempting me.”

“I—“

“Go back upstairs, Danny. Get back to work. Finish your shift. We’ll talk later.” Mac spoke through gritted teeth, gripping the cot he was sitting on. “Please.”

Danny eyed him for a moment. “Alright, we’ll talk later.”

Mac gave the barest of nods.

Danny blinked a bit, scratched his head, and then walked off. Mac let a full minute pass before he started breathing again. He propped his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands and sighed heavily.

He didn’t have to breathe. He could go the rest of his existence without taking a single breath and he’d do just fine. It was just that in order to talk, he still had to fill his lungs and then force the air out through his vocal cords. In order to smell, he still had to have air running through his nasal passages. And he had to admit, there was something nice about sighing whenever you were stressed or depressed.

Unlike the stereotypical Dracula-type vampires, Mac’s kind was (he hesitated to use the word) evolved to be a good date. It would be hard to pick somebody up in a bar if was were cold to the touch and had no heartbeat and wasn't breathing. In a blood bar, that might actually make it easier, but Mac didn’t like to associate with that crowd. He preferred real people. And those people got kinda disturbed if he wasn’t breathing or his heart wasn’t beating. It reassured Mac that he still had a heartbeat; he’d been shot in that area more times than he could count, but he always regenerated. Just as long as he could keep the blood flowing to his brain, he would be fine.

It was ironic. As much as his kind was dependent on sex, it was his brain that was his Achilles’ heel. It was also reassuring for reasons he couldn’t quite understand: despite the fact that he fed on sexual pleasure, the seat of his existence was still in the place that governed logic and reasoning. It gave Mac… hope. He was more than just a sex-hungry beast. He could think, he could reason, he could plan ahead and solve problems.

Footsteps approached and Mac looked up in time to see Sid hovering in the doorway, knuckles poised to knock on the doorframe, a blood bag in his other hand. “Hungry?”

Mac rubbed his face with his hands and gave a tired “yeah.”

Sid stepped a single foot into the room, couldn’t help but notice that Mac was still aroused, and coughed. Mac groaned and turned away a little. “Just toss it.”

Sid paused uncomfortably and then lightly gave the bag an underhand toss. Mac wasn’t even looking in that direction when he snapped a hand out and caught the bag… catching it without even seeing it. The vampire held it in his hand and then turned his head and contemplated it for the longest time, like he could divine all the secrets of existence in the dull red liquid.

Sid threaded his fingers together and looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I hope you’re not angry with me. For, ah, telling Danny where you were. He seemed quite intent on finding you, but it wasn’t until after I told him that I remembered the look on your face when you came down here, and—“

“It’s fine, Sid,” Mac interrupted calmly. He twisted the nozzle off the bag and stuck the straw-like opening in his mouth, gave a grimace of anticipation, and made himself drain it as slowly as he could stand it.

As the blood in the bag diminished, so did Mac’s arousal—yes, the taste was that bad—and Sid looked a lot more comfortable. “Do you want to talk about it?” the pathologist asked quietly, moving a little farther into the alcove. “I can’t begin to describe the look on his face when he left the room.”

Mac cocked his head, still forcing himself to sip. “Mind trying?”

Sid glanced at the ceiling as though running through a list. “He was confused, a little nervous, and at the same time distinctly appearing to be looking forward to something. And then he just looked like he tossed it all over his shoulder.”

Mac gave a little sniff and finally finished off the bag. “Danny doesn’t worry about things that he knows he can’t do anything about. If he thinks he can, though…”

“He’ll move Heaven and Earth, or at least half of Long Island,” Sid finished. “Worrying seems to be your job, though I’m curious as to why you never let anyone see it. Meaning absolutely no offense, Mac, but I would think that you would be anxious to display as many human qualities as you can stand.”

Mac ducked his head and balled up the bag in his hands. “People that worry tend to let all those things get to them. I can’t have that, Sid. I have to hold back. I can’t let so many petty concerns wear me down.”

Sid stepped right over the vampire and extended his still-gloved hand to pluck the wadded plastic out of Mac’s hands. “I heard something once, and I think you’ll appreciate it.” He straightened and again glanced at the ceiling as though reciting. “’Is concern a curse, or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest forms of life?’” He smiled down at Mac, who was staring at him with his face unreadable. “Mac, being strong isn’t about protecting yourself. It’s about protecting someone else. And sometimes… sometimes you have to let that someone else do the protecting every now and then.”

Mac studied him for a moment. “You’re saying I should sleep with my subordinate?”

“What I’m saying is that you have a reputation of doing what’s right no matter the consequences. I’m also aware of your strong disapproval of suicide.” Sid smiled kindly down at him. “Why don’t you let someone else help you for a change?”

It had been a long time, really, since anyone had done this for Mac. A long time since anyone had basically shoved him up against a wall and told him to shut up and let them care about him. Mac might loathe himself at nearly every waking moment, but the same apparently wasn’t true about everyone else. While most people also hated him, there were the odd and inexplicable few that actually liked him, even though most of the time Mac couldn’t fathom for the life of him why. He was a goddamn vampire, after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sid patting him on the shoulder. “If I can hand your words back to you, Mac… go back upstairs. Get back to work. Finish your shift. We’ll talk later.”

Mac nodded slowly. “Thanks, Sid.”

Sid gave a casual shrug and took a step back so Mac could stand. “I’ve been worried about you lately, and I’m not the only one. Yes, people actually worry about you, so don’t look at me like that. After all, what are friends for?”

Something happened to Mac’s face that hadn’t happened in a long time: a tiny, sad, and completely genuine smile. “Thanks,” Mac whispered again.

It was almost woefully typical how the rest of the night went: lots of slow and methodical crime scene processing and lab work, interspersed by rare moments of pure adrenaline when they confronted more than one suspect with both a bad attitude and a loaded handgun.

It was normal for Mac to throw himself headlong into his work, but tonight he was determined to not think about anything that wasn’t work-related. He already had a pretty good idea of whether or not he would go to Danny’s after work, and no matter which decision he made, part of him was extremely unhappy because of it.

The night was almost over and Mac was in his office again when that knee-buckling scent washed over him, and with an action so thoughtless as to be almost reflex Mac closed the door of his office.

Danny was on the other end of the hall when this happened, and when it did the Italian set his jaw and marched on Mac’s office. Oh yeah, he was horny again. He’d probably been taunting himself all night of what it would be like to sleep with an incubus. And when he reached forward to open the door, Mac shot his hand out and locked it.

Danny spread his arms and frowned. “What the hell, Mac?”

“Leave the door alone, Danny.” Mac backed up a few feet until he could feel his desk behind him.

“What, you don’t wanna talk? You wanna back out, just say so!”

Mac bared his fangs, which was something he’d done maybe a handful of times since he’d been granted that office. “Danny, the only things standing between you and a half-starved incubus are a glass panel and two pairs of pants, mine and yours.” He clenched his fists and gripped the desk with enough force that Danny could hear the steel creaking. “If I were you, I’d leave the damn door right where it is.”

Danny blinked. “Well, just sayin’ that it’s ‘bout time for us to be clockin’ out, ya know? You wanna ride the subway with me?”

Mac shook his head. “Go home tonight. Sleep any way you’re comfortable with, but leave your window open. If you want to change your mind, just close the window and I’ll know.”

Danny lifted an eyebrow. “Ya ain’t wantin’ to come to bed with me the old-fashioned way?”

Mac gave a bitter smile. “I’m a little… rusty, Danny, when it comes to emotional companionship. And you said you wanted to know what it was like to be visited at night by an incubus.”

Author's note: Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!