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Michael gasps in pain, when the light rising from the circle burns into his eyes. Even through closed lids the brightness feels blinding.
Spots still dancing in his vision, he can make out a shape in front of him. Surrounded by candles, a vaguely human shaped figure is standing in his living room. Correction, hovering in his living room.
Michael isn’t sure what he had expected when he summoned a demon, but a guy about his age, looking rumpled and like he just stepped out of a trashy swashbuckler film, isn't it. The man – demon? – in front of him is wearing a wide, white shirt that gapes open at the neck to reveal a multitude of necklaces, the shirt tucked into leather pants that bring a blush to Michael's cheeks, with weird lacing at the crotch instead of buttons. Michael wonders if the lacing would make it easier or harder to get at what lay so prominently behind it. Guiltily, his eyes snap back up to the demon's face.
Cold eyes the colour of steel meet his and Michael swallows, hard. He has to look up a little and somehow that really does it for Michael.
Mystery solved. He is definitely, definitely into guys.
"What is your desire, mortal?" the demon asks, voice like gravel and satin all at once. Michael only barely bites down on a whimper.
"Uh," is all Michael could manage, because the way the demon had said 'desire' had put a thousand images in Michael's head and he isn't sure asking for any of them is appropriate.
The demon tilts his head to the side, a small silver earring glimmering in the dark light of the candles. Michael bites his lip and looks away, trying to collect himself.
"I kinda, uh, need a date?"
The demon's mouth curls up into a grin that looks positively dangerous.
"So you want me to enchant a poor, helpless woman to your side?" His voice washes over Michael like a touch. "Or a man?"
"No!" Michael says quickly, because it sounds so wrong and yet the voice made the idea almost appealing. "I mean, yes, I mean, no, I don't want you to … do whatever you just implied, even though, yes, I would be open to either, but that would be so wrong to do to another person and-" He cuts himself off when the demon starts laughing.
Michael clears his throat and tries again. "Okay. Here's the thing. My ex is getting married tomorrow. To my sister. And I can't show up without a date because he will think I'm still pining for him, and I can't bring any of my other exes, because that would be pathetic because my sister knows all of them. Well, except for Noah. She doesn't know about that. Basically, I need someone so my family stops asking me when I'll settle down, and I kinda want it to be a man to tell Noah that he can suck it and… what I'm asking is, would you be my date? For the wedding? Tomorrow?"
The demon is looking at him, face. Michael feels incredibly awkward under the scrutiny, bringing his hands back down to his side, after gesturing all over the place while he tried to explain. He rubs his hands on his pants, finally shoving them into his pockets, waiting for an answer. Saying it out loud made his plight sound even stupider than when he came up with this plan.
"You know my price for such inquiries?" It sounded less like a question, but Michael answered him anyway.
"Two goats and five years of my life, right?"
The demon nodded.
"Do you require a different look, or is this shape to your liking?" The demon gestures along his body and Michael's eyes get stuck on how the wristbands and rings accentuate the demon's hands. How they look so long and nimble, how they move so fluidly. Would they be soft or full of rough patches like a worker's hands? Michael clears his throat.
"It's fine, you're … fine," he finally croaks and the demon nods gravely.
"Any other wishes?"
Michael bites down on his lower lip, then shakes his head.
"Then let us seal this bargain, for I cannot leave this circle until we do." The demon crooks his finger at Michael, and he stumbles into the candle circle as if pulled by unseen forces. Long fingers close around his neck, tugging him ever closer, while the demon's thumbs push Michael's chin upwards. The demon bends down to meet Michael halfway, his lush lips closing over Michael's, dragging one long breath from him. Then the touch and the lips are gone and so is the demon, like a cloud of smoke dissipating in the breeze. Michael stumbles another step forward, yelling, "wear something purple," into the empty air, but the demon is long gone.
His lips still tingle when he touches them. He takes a few shuddering breaths to settle the butterflies in his stomach, before he bends down to clean up all the candles and blood and bones from his living room floor.
* * *
Michael has been pacing from his kitchen to his living room and back again, for the past fifteen minutes. Tugging on his hair, he curses again when his eyes fall to the clock. He needs to leave, immediately, if he wanted to make it to the ceremony in time.
Damn! He should've known this wouldn't work!
Well, he might also be to blame since he hadn't told the demon when to show up, but damnit, weren't demons all seeing or some shit?
A car horn blaring, rips him from his thoughts and he throws a cursory look out of the window, then stops dead in his tracks. A black limousine is parked in front of his house, looking entirely out of place, with the demon leaning against the side of it like he doesn't have a care in the world.
Michael stumbles outside, presents in one hand, the other trembling as he locks his door and heads for the limousine.
The demon looks unfairly handsome, in a black tux over a dark purple shirt, topped off with a black bowtie. The dress pants look almost as sinful as the leather pants had yesterday. Quickly, Michael fixes his eyes on the demon's face in an attempt to stop contemplating if those pants would look just as good on his bedroom floor.
When he has almost reached the limousine, the demon pushes himself off of the door, meeting Michael with two long strides. Now that he isn't hovering several feet over the floor, he turns out to be about the same height as Michael. In a move so quick, Michael doesn't see it coming, the demon has captured his lips in a firm kiss, hand tight at the back of Michael's neck, holding him close. For a long moment, Michael just stands there, frozen.
Before he can kiss him back though, the demon has pulled away. As soon as the door shuts behind Michael, the limousine pulls out of his drive way.
"I was worried you weren't going to show up," Michael says when he can't bear the silence between them anymore.
"I know," the demon responds, before scooting closer to where Michael is sitting. The demon reaches across his body for a little box sitting on the cushion in front of Michael and retrieves a dark purple rose. Plucking the handkerchief from Michael's breast pocket, the demon delicately places the flower there instead. Michael's pulse is pounding in his ears.
When the demon is done, his hand falls to Michael's thigh, resting there as a warm, constant presence. Michael can't pull his gaze away from the demon's eyes though. They are darker today, a shade more human somehow. Probably better if he's going to introduce him to his entire family. Speaking of which-
"I forgot to ask you yesterday, but what is your name?" Michael asks.
The demon looks almost amused at his question. "You may call me Alichino."
"Ali- what now?" Fuck, he couldn't introduce his fake boyfriend if he couldn't even properly pronounce his name! "Uhm, is it okay if I call you Alex?"
The demon takes a long moment to contemplate his request, then answers simply, "yes."
The hand on Michael's leg moves up a few inches to capture Michael's hand, slowly interlacing their fingers. Michael's heartbeat is thundering in his ears as he looks down at their intertwined fingers.
"Uh, you don't have to do that yet, there is no one here."
The demon – Alex – hums noncommittally and just looks at Michael. He doesn't pull his hand away though.
* * *
"Do you want something more to drink?" Alex asks, hand softly on Michael's forearm and Michael feels his touch everywhere, like a burn. He nods, helplessly, and watches Alex walk away for a few long seconds. Turning back around, he catches his aunt's eye and she gives him a long, disapproving look. Michael almost sighs out loud. She wasn’t the first tonight, and she certainly won't be the last. Somehow all their concern about him settling down, had now morphed into 'but are you sure you're settling down with the right person?'
After a few minutes and two more pointed comments about children in his direction, he excuses himself and heads out of the ballroom. He just needs a moment to breath. It is hard enough to watch Isobel and Noah being all over each other and happy, showing him exactly what he cannot have.
He takes a deep, rattling breath. He had wanted to tell Isobel about him and Noah so many times, but each time it seemed like he had already waited too long. And now it was definitely too late. The way she had looked at Noah when they had said their vows…. It had brought a new wave of jealousy and sadness, until eventually the sadness had won out. Michael would go to his grave keeping this secret if it meant he could protect her smile.
Footsteps alert him to the presence of another person. Noah is heading straight for him, face thunderous. Michael hates how even now, his heart stutters a little in his chest at the sight of him.
"Bringing a one night stand to a wedding, how classy," Noah sneers. It is like a slap in the face and Michael feels the anger pooling in his belly.
"Alex is not a one night stand."
Noah has the gall to laugh at that. "Oh really? Pray tell when you met him then? Was it before or after I fucked you at my bachelor's party?"
Michael pushes off the wall, fist clenched. "Fuck you." He wonders if the satisfaction of hitting Noah would be worth the shit storm that would follow.
"Oh, you wish!"
And fuck, that hurt.
Michael turns, ready to walk off to somewhere that Noah isn't when a hand pulls him back around. Suddenly, he is inches away from Noah's face. He pulls against Noah's grip, but Noah only tightens his fingers until Michael's arm starts to hurt.
"If this is your attempt to make me jealous, you didn't succeed," Noah hisses.
"I didn't try-" Michael says, once more trying to free himself, when another hand grabs Noah's wrist.
Surprised to find Alex next to them, both Noah and Michael freeze.
"If you'd be so kind as to remove your hand from him," Alex asks, but it isn't question. Noah's hold loosens slowly, his wrist turning white under Alex's hand. Noah's face looks pained as he pulls his hand away from Alex.
Alex is returning Noah's furious gaze, unfazed. Before Noah can say anything though, Michael takes Alex by the arm and drags him away.
Rounding the corner, Michael finds himself suddenly pushed up against the wall, Alex crowding in close. Alex has Michael's arm in his hands, peeling the sleeve away to get a better look at where Noah had restrained him. Michael could still feel his pulse pounding under his skin there, but outside there was no bruise or mark left. Almost like it never happened.
"Thank you for that. Sorry you had to see-" Michael says, but Alex interrupts him.
"Would you dance with me?" He looks at Michael like he has never seen anything more beautiful, like he could stay here and look at Michael forever. Blushing furiously, Michael takes the offered hand and follows Alex back into the ballroom.
Once on the dance floor, Alex leads him into a slow waltz. He looks radiant the way he dances with Michael, his eyes warm and caring, his movement graceful and precise. Their bodies touch from navel to knee in a long line of heat and comfort, Alex's hand firm against Michael's lower back, pushing and pulling him from one figure to the next. Michael has never been all that good at dancing, but right here, with Alex, it felt so effortlessly. To follow in Alex's steps, to sidestep when Alex pushes between his legs, his hand on Alex's shoulder more to hold him up while Alex guides him wherever he wants him. It feels easy and comfortable and yet so incredibly teasing, their bodies brushing against each other, heat even through multiple layers of cloth, Michael half hard simply from how Alex looks at him.
When the song is over and Alex turns them one last time before bringing them to a standstill, Michael can't help himself. He leans forward, catching Alex's lips in a soft kiss, his eyes closed, and tries to commit this moment to memory, so he can hold onto it forever.
* * *
Alex had dropped him off at home with a promise to collect his payment the following day, before he and his limousine vanished like they had never existed.
Michael spent the rest of the night alternatively chugging tequila and crying.
The next morning he scrubs himself under the shower until he feels raw and goes out to collect the goats he had bought the week before. He tries not to think of the finality as he binds their ropes to his fence so they could feed while he waits for Alex to return.
Barely past the threshold, he freezes when he spots Alex lounging in one of his arm chairs. Alex looks surprisingly unassuming, a dark shirt that might be from Michael's closet, long wool pants, no rings or ornaments, and bare feet. It is the last detail that Michael gets stuck on. Alex looks softer this way, almost human. Like he belongs here, in Michael's living room, in Michael's clothes. It hits Michael like a punch in the gut as the door falls shut behind him.
"So how does this whole five years thing work? The goats are out front, but I need some direction on how the rest is supposed to happen."
Alex rises gracefully, closing the few feet of space between them and pulls Michael into him. Hands on Michael's neck directing him so their lips align just right, fingers scratching through his locks, sending shiver after shiver down Michael's spine. Alex kisses him soft and unhurried, nipping on his lower lip before opening his mouth further, swallowing Michael's moan. Michael's hands reach for any part of Alex they can find, settle on his hip before moving to Alex's back, pulling the demon in closer until their bodies are flush together.
Eventually, Alex pulls back, his hands still warm against Michael's scalp, eyes once again a steely grey. And something in Michael just breaks.
"Can you, please, just, take what you came here for and leave? I can't-"
Alex's hands nudges Michael's head so he meets Alex's eyes again. "I am here to collect what I was promised. Five years, Michael. You promised me five years and I am here to collect."
"I don't know what that means," Michael says in a small voice.
Alex smiles at him. "It means I moved in while you were gone." Michael's eyes go wide. "It means I expect you to make me breakfast in the morning and that you help me raise those goats out there. It means I want you to teach me about the current century. I am dreadfully behind on recent customs. But first, I would like you to make me pancakes, if you wouldn't mind. It has been a long time since I had any."
Michael is staring at Alex, not quite trusting what he is hearing.
"And this?" Michael gestures vaguely in the space between them.
"Oh, this?" Alex asks while his fingers tighten in Michael's hair. It sends sparks of pleasure all through Michael. "This is not part of our bargain. This is just for me, if you want it."
His eyes crinkle with his smile, sweet and intimate, and Michael would laugh if there was any 'if' about it. Instead he crushes his lips to Alex's, pushing against his shoulders until Alex's back hits a wall. Alex gives him a delicious little whine when Michael's hands cup his face as well, and he kisses him with everything he has.
"Okay," he says a little breathlessly, when he pulls himself away from Alex. "Pancakes. Coming right up." He goes in for another quick kiss before marching off into the kitchen, leaving Alex standing there against the wall, looking all rumpled. Alex's laugh follows Michael and he has never heard any sound so beautiful.