He was out having a drink with one of his usuals when the commotion started.
Silvester wasn’t particularly interested at first. It was all shouting, just some random irritant getting mouthy with the barkeep, and that didn’t scratch any kind of particular itch, now, did it? One might consider it normal background noise and a sign of a typical evening at this particular establishment. So he just rolled his eyes and winked at his company, Helyas, who grinned back at him, face bright with anticipation. All in all the evening felt it was building to a fairly typical end. But then, oh, but then… something smashed. The mouthpiece got a bit louder, tone nastier, something heavy hit the floor. The entire tavern went stone quiet.
Only to be broken by the voice of someone new. A someone who was clearly on the edge of getting nasty.
“You wanna explain your disgusting fucking disrespect, huh?”
The instant he heard it Silvester’s heart leapt in his chest because he knew who that was, and that, unfortunately for Helyas, meant a likely change of plans for the night. He jumped to his feet to step around the corner, his companion following on, and turned the corner just in time to see the aggressor taking a swing at six feet of red curls, scarred skin and eyes so stormy a blue in colour it was serendipitous, considering what Thomas Killethym was.
“Shit, is he really gonna try and fight Thunderfuck—”
Helyas cut himself off as the drunken assailant’s feet were kicked out under him, wincing as the body hit the floor with a loud groan. Silvester, in contrast, felt a rush of excitement. How far was this going to go? He’d met darling Thomas twice before now… and for the first of those times he’d only gotten to see the aftermath of half an untrained gang getting put on their asses (to his own chagrin). Trying to start a fight with a sorcerer when you had no experience or knowhow about dealing with magic was never going to go well for the assailant, especially when they were as much of a genuinely hard bastard as Tom was. Silvester remembered watching the spark of lightning dancing through that skin and wondered, no, hoped that this would get rowdier. That the opponent tried to push Thomas further. He so badly wanted to see it.
“Guess so.” Helyas sucked in a breath. “He has to be new here, huh.”
“Thomas is a regular, then?” Silvester asked, still staring, feeling his anticipation build as the drunkard staggered to his feet.
“Huh? Well, yeah… you never seen him about here? How’d you know his name, then?”
The barkeep rose back into the view, and it was clear, now, what had fallen to the floor earlier; his lip looked bloodied and his eyes wide. Tom shifted to stand in front of him, furious gaze locked on the assailant, and Silvester just couldn’t give a single damn about the edge of jealousy seeping into Helyas’s voice, he couldn’t, because the drunkard made a really foolish mistake and tried to hit Thomas again. And Thomas? Caught the wrist, twisted the arm and, oh yes, yes, he sparked, a thread of bright electricity brightening his body for a flash as his knee rose and made hard, fast and horribly painful contact with his opponent’s stomach.
“Stay the fuck down or get the fuck out, prick,” Thomas said with a snarl, magical breeze now ruffling with his hair. “Don’t make me say it again.”
Winded and hurt, the ‘prick’ seemed placated for a moment, but, again, the moment he recovered, he chose to make the thoroughly incorrect decision. Silvester bit his lip, grinning, as Thomas snapped and finally rose a fist. You couldn’t really call it a fight, not with how one-sided it was, but Tom didn’t emerge untouched. After a brief, violent scuffle the sorcerer threw the tavern door open and roughly sent his idiot opponent right into the dirty floor outside, catching fingernails in his skin as he did so. This was only obvious when he slammed the door shut and turned around; there was a trickle of blood running from what was already a sea of scars on his right cheek.
Nine hells and blessed heavens, the gods had truly blessed Silvester. And this was just a taste of what Thomas was! There was so much more to see… and everything still to touch. Taste. Feel.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to cut tonight short, Helyas,” Silvester murmured, barely audible as he smiled to himself. “My sweet friend over there could do with some tender care, and I’d like to be the one to give it.”
“Look, I know he seems like your type, but he’s not, Silv.” Helyas sounded really put out by now, as if he’d ever had claim on Silvester in the first place. “Thunderfuck Tom has a temper and a hard fist, yeah, fine, but he’s soft underneath. And you won’t get him into your bed for a casual fuck, either, everyone knows he don’t do that.”
“You don’t know how wrong you are about types. I want this one tied down.” Mine mine mine mine. “And I intend to do it right now.”
“The fuck? Are you implying… you’ve always said you don’t do committed—”
“I do when it’s the right one. Don’t get silly, now, I’ve never led you on about anything, have I?”
“…no…”
“Goodnight, then.”
Leaving the bitter Helyas behind, Silvester sauntered right over to where Thomas had collapsed into one of the quieter booths. There was commotion and confusion and a hell of a lot of loud talk around him but he ignored it all, focused entirely on his goal, and so, before his handsome delight could even get a chance at saying anything, Silv slid in and sat himself across Tom’s lap. He’d pulled out a kerchief and started cleaning up the bloody cheek by the time the now-flustered Thomas spoke up.
“Uh, Silvester, what are you…”
“Tending to the hero of the hour, of course.” Silvester flashed his brightest smile, sincere and excited. “Three times we’ve met and for two of them you’ve been keeping an asshole in check. Are you still going to deny how delightful you are, Tom?”
“…it’s nothing, really,” Thomas said, an odd thread of bashfulness in his tone. “Don’t call anything about what I just did heroic. I’m just an angry fuck who don’t like unnecessary nastiness.”
“Call yourself a wonderful ‘angry fuck,’ then? As a compromise?”
The faintest little quirk of the mouth betrayed Tom’s pleasure at the compliment, and his eyes betrayed his attraction, considering where they’d now fixed themselves. It was exactly what Silvester wanted to see. He dropped the cloth in his hand and instead pressed a hand against the bloodied face, reveling in the dampness beneath his fingers, as he kissed his sorcerer with an immediate insistent press. Open-mouth, thick with wanting, needing that response. It did take a moment. Thomas was clearly not expecting it, and was stiff for a beat. After that initial hesitation, though? He just melted, grasping onto Silv’s waist and giving exactly what Silvester wanted from him.
What a lovely mouth. It was generous and warm and there was the faintest tinge of copper in the taste, more evidence of that fight. Silvester hummed into the kiss and cupped Tom’s other cheek when they broke for air, regarding him with pure delight. His. Had to be his, considering how misty-eyed Thomas now looked and how firm those fingers were on his waist.
“I think, angry hero, we should leave,” Silvester said, his voice quiet and intimate. “There are much better places to have a drink together, and I think I’d like to show you some. What do you say?”
“Yeah, uh… yeah.” That touch of pleased shyness again, odd in contrast to the delicious rage Tom had shown only minutes before. “Probably best considering anyway, so… yeah, yeah, wherever you want.”
Feeling very pleased with himself, Silvester kissed Tom again before taking the opportunity to hold his new acquisition close for a moment. It was genuinely something he wanted to do, but also, well, he had to tuck his hands away to make the embrace happen, tuck his face out of sight, and that gave him the chance to do what he’d wanted to do since the moment he’d seen that blood dripping earlier. His fingers were coated lightly by now, messy with it, and with a slight shiver Silvester pressed his palm against his own mouth and licked.
That touch of metal in their kiss had been nice, but this was a much stronger hit. The blood of a dangerous sorcerer… Thomas’s essence, lingering on Silvester’s tongue for the first time. Not the last. One day, some day soon, after they’d really gotten to know one another? He’d pull his boy from the most vicious fight and lick every drop of spilled blood from the wounds.