“Get on my back.”

Darcy shuffled forward until the toes of his shoes disappeared under him.

“I don’t have cooties,” Luca added after a few seconds of his hesitation.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“I’m a lot of things, but dirty ain’t one of them,” Luca answered with obvious offence. “Dirty minded, maybe.”

“Not about the cooties,” he laughed. “Carrying me, I mean. I’m not as light as I look.”

“Don’t insult my muscles now, Darcy.”

“Sorry, muscles.”

Luca almost tipped himself onto all fours laughing at him. It really wasn’t that funny. He always seemed to find the things Darcy said and did a bit too hilarious.

Darcy gave in, not that he didn’t desperately want to be carried by his mate, but when it came to Luca, it was safer to err on the side of pessimism. Darcy rested his forearms on Luca’s shoulders and hopped up, wrapping his thighs around his waist. Squeezing him between them felt sinful. Darcy’s front pressed to Luca’s back wasn’t exactly a perfect fit, but it coated him in his mate’s warmth and scent all the same.

Luca popped up to straight legs and shifted him a little, a minor adjustment. A shiver ran through Darcy’s inner thighs.

Luca took off at a gentle jog at first, winding between the trees and pointing anything out that was particularly big or small or funny-looking. Darcy hummed agreement with all of his observations. Darcy was paying attention to the tiny mushrooms and the tree carving that looked like a smiley face, of course. But maybe not quite as much attention as he was paying to the bunching of Luca’s back muscles under his very thin t-shirt. They moved against him like writhing snakes. It took every drop of willpower within him not to grind against them.

The further into the forest they delved, the more Darcy allowed his chin to droop closer to the crook of his neck. Luca's unique scent was pulsing from it, and he wanted it for perfume. The gentle summer breeze, combined with Luca’s jogging pace, was brushing it into his face pleasantly.

A tree wider than Darcy was tall appeared before them.

“Look how low those branches are!” Luca shouted. Darcy jerked upright to appraise the tree, roused by his noisiness. It was bushy and green and could probably house a whole army of squirrels. Darcy was unsure why the low branches were the high point for his mate. “Let’s climb it!”

Darcy’s stomach seemingly disappeared from his body. He did not do heights. Especially anything taller than him, and everything was taller than him.

“Wait, Luca-”

Luca was already bounding to the trunk. “You can see things from a whole new viewpoint, short-stack,” he said cheerfully. Oblivious to his terror. He grabbed the bottom branches and easily pulled off from the forest floor.

“No, L-Luca!” Darcy babbled. He dug his nails into Luca’s shoulders, scrabbling at his t-shirt. He had already propelled them up two rows of branches. “Stop! I don’t like heights!”

Luca slowed, but didn’t stop. They were easily fifteen feet up already. “You’re safe,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not going to drop y-”

“Luca!”

He passed another two rings of branches easily.

“Just hold on to me-”

“Luca, I said no!” Darcy barked. Birds fluttered in trees nearby, uncertain whether to high-tail away from the loudly distressed omega.

Luca’s entire form froze. Darcy couldn’t tell if he was considering his words, but if he was, he didn’t have time for the delay. Darcy needed to get down, now. If he didn’t climb down, he’d faint and plummet to his death. That thought did not help the sickening feeling climbing through his body. Darcy unhooked his legs and swung them for the nearest branch below.

“Darcy, don’t!” Luca yelled.

Darcy released his shoulders to drop mid-swing.

The back of his shirt was snatched before he could even attempt to grab the branch he had been aiming for. Luca yanked him in against his chest as he skidded down the trunk. Luca's feet were braced against it while his free hand grappled at any branch that passed them to slow their descent.

They landed on his feet, hard. Darcy dangled from his side.

Luca's breaths were coming out as half-growls, huffing out of his chest. He lowered him onto his own feet before turning to face him. Luca's eyes were wide and his lips trembling slightly.

“What were you thinking?” he choked out. “You could have gotten hurt! Or worse, fallen to your death!” He raked his hands through his stupid, perfect curls.

“I was scared!” Darcy snapped. Nausea bubbled within him, he needed to lie down. For just a moment up there he had truly thought he was going to die. Darcy managed to gasp out, “I told you I didn’t want to go up there.”

“And I told you to hang on! Why didn’t you listen to me?” Luca demanded, suddenly more angry than concerned. It rubbed Darcy even further up the wrong way, and he was upset with him already.

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” Darcy screeched in his face. He felt manic and disoriented, but he wasn’t going to let Luca steam roll him, not this time. “I told you no, and you climbed the tree anyway! You told me under the table that all I had to do was tell you if I didn’t like something. You have zero respect for me or my feelings. I was scared, Luca. Do you even know what that feels like? When was the last time you felt helpless?”

Luca’s eyes dropped and fixed to the ground. If Darcy didn’t know him so well, he could be fooled into thinking he was ashamed of himself. Luca's entire frame still had a slight tremble to it, but Darcy told himself it was simply adrenaline.

“You can’t remember?” he continued. “I’m not surprised. I can’t imagine it’s often you are forced into anything you don’t want to do.”

“’m s’rry.” A mumble, barely audible.

Darcy pretended not to have heard him. As shocked as he was to hear him say sorry. It didn’t count as a real apology. He was staring at his shoes and speaking at a volume only bats could hear.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Darcy huffed.

He half-raised his head. Enough to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for forcing me up the tree or sorry for lying the other day under the table?”

“I wasn’t lying!” he argued. “I do want you to tell me things straight if you don’t like them.”

Darcy rested his hands on his hips. “Me telling you doesn’t make you stop, though,” he countered furiously. “Your fun always comes before my feelings!”

“I was only playing around! I thought you were, too.”

Darcy stepped under his nose, pressing his chest to Luca’s stomach. “I am not your play-thing,” he seethed.

Luca's eyes grew dark. Molten honey. His expression clouded with hunger. “I want to play with you,” he admitted huskily.   

Darcy flushed. This guy could give him whiplash without his car. Luca's face only had to drop a foot to reach his, and it snatched his lips so fast he almost stumbled backwards. Luca's arms helpfully encircled his lower back, pulling him in closer, up onto his tip-toes. Darcy's hands somehow found their way back to the shoulders he had clawed up moments before. His legs curled around Luca’s. Darcy was the vine, he was the tree.

In between wet, open-mouth kisses he managed to pant, “I’m… still… mad at y-… you.” Luca sucked on his tongue and a moan slipped out.    

“Good,” he chuckled against his lips. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”