Eight: Passion

*thanks to GoodbyeMarch, Pat77, Carsgovrooom, bullyfanberlin, and Lesbian_Pixie for your support!*

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That got a reaction. Lich stiffened, becoming a stone statue against Sage’s body. Unaware of how badly he’d just fucked up, Sage became frustrated with how Lich’s grip was keeping him from pummeling the hero’s cloaked face and pushed back, forcing Lich to let go of him.

Except, without the support of Lich’s arms, Sage lost his balance, and stumbled into the wall of the alley. Sage’s vision blurred for a moment at the impact, and when it cleared, he saw Lich standing a foot away, hands outstretched – as if he’d tried to catch Sage. He lowered them as Sage watched, and for reasons only a drunk would understand, that pissed Sage off too.

He kicked at Lich, who just stepped back to avoid it. Upset, Sage slurred “Get back here and fight me,” without moving even an inch from where the wall was doing all the hard work of keeping his inebriated ass off the ground.

Uncharacteristically, Lich didn’t seem to know what to do. He didn’t come closer, as Sage wanted, but he also hesitated to leave. Had Sage been a little more clear-headed, he would think that Lich’s hero righteousness wouldn’t let him leave an obviously intoxicated person alone in an alleyway. As it was, Sage just squinted at him, absolutely out of his mind.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Sage mumbled. “Cloaked-ass pissant motherfucker, I hope you’re ugly as shit under there, ‘cause if you’re not I’ll rearrange your fucking face.”

Lich huffed, but it was hard to say if it was anger, or repressed laughter.

“What’d you fucking say?” Sage suddenly burst out, disregarding that Lich had not, in fact, said anything. With renewed energy, Sage pushed off the wall, about to throw hands, but at the same moment, Lich stepped forward, and Sage’s vision went dark as a warm, black-gloved hand covered his eyes.

This might have made sober Sage panic, but drunk Sage just went limp, suddenly docile at the solid pressure.

Sage wasn’t sure what happened next. He might have fainted, but all he knew was that when he could next see again, he was on Carolyn’s couch, with Carolyn herself kneeling next to the couch, lightly slapping his cheek.

Seeing him come to, Carolyn sighed in relief, and forced a glass of water into his hand. “There you are. Thought you were dead for a second.”

Sage downed half the glass. He was a bit more sober – not fully there, but on the way. Carolyn watched him gulp it down like a fish finding a pond in the desert and sighed.

“Mind explaining what happened?”

Sage didn’t know what she meant. “What?”

Carolyn rubbed her temple, clearly also suffering the effects of their alcohol binge. Over her shoulder, Sage could see Abe passed out and snoring in an armchair.

“You left, remember? You said you saw a friend and left. Abe and I were a block away from my house when you suddenly reappeared next to us, with your arm over my shoulder and everything, but you were out cold.” She paused. “I thought maybe I was too drunk to remember you coming back, but the more I think about it, the more I get the feeling that someone put you there. I mean, how could you catch up to us that fast, especially being that drunk?”

Sage swallowed, throat still dry despite the water. He thought back, but he couldn’t remember anything she was talking about. He remembered leaving the bar. After that, it was all black.

…Friend? What friend? The only two friends Sage had were in this room.

Feeling unsettled, uncomfortable in his skin, Sage mumbled “I don’t know,” and abruptly sat up.

“I have to go,” he said then, ignoring Carolyn’s indignant squawk and her protests that he was still too out of it to go home alone. He left, and somehow, he made it home.

Alone in his apartment, Sage couldn’t help running over the past few hours in his mind, but apparently his blood alcohol levels were still too high for him to unlock whatever happened after they left the bar. Frustrated, and certain that something terrible had happened in those few hours, Sage found his villain disguise, and left his apartment again, looking for trouble. Was it a terrible decision to leave while not fully sober? Yes. Did Sage care? Not really.

Maybe a good fight would bring back his memory. And if not, maybe it would help settle the itch under his skin. He was agitated, God knows why.

Sage wasn’t sure how long he spent outside, roaming the streets, and letting the cool night air clear his head. He still couldn’t remember anything, but after a while, he felt less like he was on fire.

He was halfway home, walking through an alley that was pretty close to the bar, when a shadow appeared around the corner, as if laying in wait. Sage came to a stop and rolled his eyes. He had originally come out looking for a fight, but now he was tired. He wanted to go home and sleep off the headache blooming in his skull.

“What do you want?” he snapped, ignoring how something in his stomach twisted at the sight of Lich. It wasn’t a bad twist either. It was…

Sage didn’t know. But he was pissed about it anyway.

Sage blinked – and in the span of that blink, Lich had moved from the mouth of the alley to approximately three feet in front of Sage, pinning him with his hidden gaze. Sage tried to maintain his annoyed expression, hiding how freaked out he was that Lich was able to move that fast. What did he want now?

Then – as Sage watched, Lich lifted one gloved hand to pull up the very bottom of his veil. Sage was frozen, enraptured as the lower half of his face was revealed. A strong jawline came into view, followed by soft-looking lips.

Lips that were suddenly very close!

Sage didn’t even have time to ask what the hell was going on, because his mouth was then occupied with wrestling Lich’s tongue. Lich’s hand tangled gently in Sage’s hair, keeping him in place, but not tight enough that Sage couldn’t escape.

Maybe Sage was finally going insane, but he didn’t move. He let Lich’s lips move over his, skillful, yet desperately ravenous in the way they threatened to devour him. The twist in his stomach was back, but Sage knew what it was this time. And when Lich used his body to push Sage into the wall of the alley, he let him, knowing that what was happening would probably make his life much worse, and yet unable to bring himself to push Lich away.

Lich’s hands, still gloved, slid under Sage’s shirt. His hands were hot, burning almost, and the heat made Sage feel a sense of familiarity – a memory of those hands trying to surface – but then that hand slid down to grip Sage’s thigh, and he promptly forgot it.

He returned the kiss, letting himself soften, and his acceptance made Lich let out a noise that would haunt Sage’s dreams for the rest of his life. A groan, deep and filled with an emotion that Sage couldn’t possibly name. All Sage knew was that it made him feel like his lower half was liquid. Tentatively, his hands came up to grasp Lich’s cloak, needing something to anchor himself.

Lost in the kiss, and way too hot, Sage couldn’t remember Lich undressing him. He remembered Lich’s mouth moving down to kiss and bite Sage’s neck, finding a sweet spot under Sage’s jaw that made him moan. He remembered Lich’s fingers, somehow lubricated, sliding inside him, and then something much larger than fingers taking their place.

He couldn’t remember getting home, afterwards. He remembered being sticky and unbalanced, both physically and emotionally.

And now, the morning after, he cursed into his empty apartment, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.