Author's Note: Yeah, not exactly how I pictured my post-Yule return to the fandom either. I'm in the middle of writing a songfic for Hobgoblin, and I've got an update for my Dragonlance fic to finish, as well as my HP fics... but I was stuck with nothing to do but write for six hours, and it got smutty. Coldfire PWP, almost PWP Destiel for Supernatural, and the outtakes for The Call Of Arcane Lore. Sheesh. Must the different air pressure or something...

Warnings: This fic is nothing but ~2700 words of smut, smut, smut.

Disclaimer: Believe me, I am NOT the owner of the Coldfire Trilogy. Ms Friedman would probably die if she read this: romantic subtext or not, I don't think her mind ever went here when she was writing the trilogy.

A.N.2: I wrote this with no idea where or how this is taking place. Looking at it now, I figure it's taking place somewhere in the AU where 'Just When You Thought It Was Safe...' is set - you know, the 'screwing-like-rabbits-since-the-Eastern-Continent'-verse? I don't know for sure, though, I wasn't much concerned with plot when I wrote it (gee, can you tell?). It's PWP, people, just go with it. Fic title is, of course, a line from the song 'Bad Things' by Jace Everett. I don't watch True Blood: what actually endeared this song so much to me was a fantastic fanvid on YouTube for Castiel, the (smoking hot) angel from Supernatural. I know. I'm way too fond of way too many fictional men. Really though, watch that vid and try not to drool over Misha Collins. He's not my usual type, but oh man... and what is it about trenchcoats? Why do they exponential increase the hotness factor?

A.N.3: It's official. I am doing a rewrite/massive expansion of Blood Destiny. Hopefully, I'll soon be getting Alowl's collab on that as well, but here's how its going so far: it's expanded into a multi-chapter fic spanning the entire trilogy, featuring a far more in-depth look at the lycan population on Erna and delving a lot deeper into the dynamics of Gerald and lycan!Damien's relationship. Working title is 'Hunters Of The Darkness', although I'm wavering on that: I plan to start posting that sometime next month, and only after I get the next chapters of Land Of The Flame and New Era Of Vengeance up, as well as post the conclusion to Crimes Of Passion - my CM muse returned from vacation and bit me in the rear.

A.N.4: Well, Hobgoblin, you can stop feeling guilty for straying into the realms of soft porn. I think I just may have out-lemoned you. And I dearly hope you need a cold shower after this: consider it sweet justice for leaving us hanging in 'Garden Of Earthly Delights'!


No sooner had the door to their room shut behind them than Gerald pounced.

A week on the road in the constant company of a rakh who was entirely too perceptive of body language and another adept who was far too likely to notice verbal slips had left both Damien and Gerald in a state of near-painful sexual frustration. Of course, Gerald maintained that it was all Damien's fault: only the Knight would have been idiotic enough to work up the nerve to confess his rampant attraction and undying love for Gerald only a half-hour before their ship docked on the Western Continent. They had promptly been ambushed by Ciani, and were thus stuck in a quandary: they didn't dare reveal the new dynamic of their relationship lest it be used against them by certain of their enemies, but now that they knew they could touch each other it was that much harder not to.

Now, finally - finally - they were spending the day in a relatively respectable establishment, and had actually secured a room separate from Ciani and Hesseth's, and by God were they going to make the most of it.

The lock had barely clicked home before Damien found himself shoved up against the door and pinned there by a very determined Gerald: the adept's hands wound tightly into Damien's hair, tugging mercilessly as he sealed their mouths together in a hot, biting kiss. Damien returned the kiss for a long moment before he wrenched himself away, already breathing a bit harder as he lifted an eyebrow in teasing question. "A little impatient, Gerald?"

"Shut up, Damien." Gerald hissed, his grey eyes burning as his lean body molded against the Knight's bulkier form. "I've been patient long enough."

There was a dangerous glitter in his pale eyes, and his voice was lower than Damien had ever heard it, low and silky and purring with a mixture of desire and warning. Damien had a split second to wonder what the hell he'd just gotten himself into, then Gerald was on him like a wild animal, nails scoring red lines on Damien's skin and mouth practically devouring him - and damn if that did't sent heat shooting through the priest's veins.

He started to push back, fighting for control while simultaneously guiding them both toward the thankfully large and comfortable-looking bed, not intending to let Gerald think he could get away with whatever he wanted all the time - but Gerald was faster and stronger than Damien had given him credit for, and the next thing he knew the adept had swept the Knight's legs out from under him and sent them both tumbling onto the bed. Gerald's elegant, strong hands had Damien's wrist pinned over his head in a split second and he'd somehow tangled their legs together so the priest was almost completely immobilized, Damien momentarily dumbfounded that the smug son of a bitch hadn't even broken their kiss - but his teeth were sharp on Damien's lips, and his tongue was slick and sweet in the Knight's mouth, and Damien found himself suddenly not caring all that much about appearances.

He fought back because it was in his nature, though: a sharp jerk of his arms and a judicious buck of his hips which should have thrown the adept off - but Gerald's slim fingers clenched tightly enough to cut off Damien's circulation, and the Knight felt his bones turn liquid with arousal as Gerald's hips pressed down in response, pinning him firmly and sending waves of searing heat through his body. The priest groaned into the adept's mouth, a throaty sound of unrestrained pleasure, and Gerald chuckled softly against his lips.

"Ah ah, Vryce. Did I say you could move?" the adept purred, nipping lightly at Damien's lips, just to provoke him. Damien's hazel eyes snapped open and then narrowed immediately, a challenging light rising there: the adept could read human emotions as easily as breathing, though, and he knew that Damien wasn't really objecting to being pinned to the bed so much as his pride was objecting to the principle. Certainly, the Knight's tone was thick and gravelly with desire, not anger.

"What makes you think you're calling the shots here, Gerald?"

Gerald gave him a wicked smirk, still braced over Damien's body with knees and elbows. "This." he said simply, and moved.

Damien had been admiring Gerald's inherent grace for some time, but never so much as he did when the adept somehow melted against him, his lean body suddenly molding to him like a second skin in a smooth undulation that set every nerve in Damien's body on fire. Damien gritted out a curse and, out of sheer reflex, bit down on the creamy flesh of the side of Gerald's neck.

The adept's whole body jerked, a low, fiery moan tearing from his throat at the flare of pain in his neck. Feeling the sensation shoot through him like lighting, Gerald pinned Damien's wrists over his head with one hand and wove the other into the Knight's dark hair, clenching down and dragging his head back: Damien let him, reluctantly releasing his hold on Gerald's throat as he let his head fall back against the pillows. Gerald swallowed hard at the heat in those hazel eyes, but he only tightened his hold as he breathed, "Damien. Unless you've turned into even more of a martyr than usual, I would advise you not to do that again." His usually flawless speech was broken and breathless, interspersed with barely-audible gasps as he found himself unable to stop rolling his hips against Damien's.

Damien groaned low in his throat, struggling to focus on the adept's words with their bodies still moving rhythmically together. When the warning finally sank through the haze of arousal, Damien found a smirk blossoming of its own accord across his lips as he gasped, "And why is that?"

Gerald's grey eyes flared, and his lips pulled back from his teeth for a moment in an almost animalistic snarl. "Because I bite harder than you do, and if you do that again I may not be able to restrain myself." he murmured, giving into temptation as he bowed his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Damien's neck, tongue licking hungrily along the Knight's sweat-slick skin.

Damien gasped a little, heat surging through him as he managed, "And that would be a bad thing?"


The Knight had had enough. Gerald's movements were sleek as a wildcat's, and Damien was not going to embarrass himself by succumbing to the adept's seductions without even getting his clothing off. Bracing one foot against the mattress, he shoved hard enough that they rolled: caught off guard, Gerald's grip on his wrists slipped, and the Knight seized his chance. He caught the adept's mouth in a fierce, devouring kiss as his hands flew to the collar of his tunic, managing to somehow force the intricate fastenings open through sheer willpower. Gerald appeared to have acknowledged the idea as a good one, because his own hands were suddenly on the fabric of Damien's tunic: just as the lacings of Gerald's surrendered, though, Damien found his own removed by virtue of a set of - apparently, unsettlingly sharp - nails. He jerked back a little, breaking the kiss as he gaped down at the adept.


"I warned you." Gerald snapped, then he buried one hand in Damien's dark hair and crushed their mouths together viciously, his other hand shoving aside tatters of fabric and raking down the Knight's back hard enough to raise welts.

"Fuck." Damien made a sound that was halfway between a yelp of pain and a moan of pleasure, and retaliated with a sharp thrust of his hips. Gerald's head snapped back against the pillows, another involuntary moan torn raggedly from his throat by the movement. Faced with that long, deliciously pale expanse of unmarked flesh, Damien would have had to be a genuine saint to resist the temptation of bending down and biting a mark into the soft curve of Gerald's throat.

That ripped a keening noise like a cat in heat out of the adept - and before Damien had time to do more than bask in the deluge of lust that rolled over him at that sound, Gerald was arching with the strength of an unbroken stallion, forcibly rolling them over again. This time, Damien found himself landing on his stomach, immediately pinned when Gerald's weight settled sleek and hot along his back. Slim fingers curled tightly around his wrists and pinned his hands down into the soft sheets as Gerald purred huskily into his ear. "You're asking for it, Damien." One of his hands let go of Damien's wrist long enough to stroke down the Knight's side, fingernails raking into the skin: Damien had to muffle his reaction into the pillow, not quite ready to give Gerald the satisfaction of knowing just how good that felt. The adept laughed softly, breathless, his tone dripping with triumph and seduction.

"Well, well - I'm impressed, Damien, I didn't think you had it in you. You were deliberately provoking me, weren't you?" As he finished speaking, Gerald leaned down and sank his teeth into the Knight's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood: Damien jerked involuntarily, his hips thrusting helplessly against the mattress as a strangled noise escaped his throat.

"Oh, fuck, Gerald..."

"Patience, Vryce, we're getting to that." Gerald purred, a hint of amusement creeping into his lust-roughened voice as he began to pick up a rhythm again. Damien swore rather colorfully.

"Stop teasing, you son of a bitch."

Gerald bit him again, though whether in retaliation or simply for fun Damien had no idea. The Knight had his own plans, though, and they did not involve letting the Hunter have his way unchallenged. He waited until Gerald was fully occupied with laying a mess of hot, biting kisses along his spine: after sacrificing a moment to indulge in the pleasure thrumming through his veins at the sensation, Damien pulled himself together and slid his wrists free of Gerald's loosened grip before he pushed up sharply against the bed.

The movement dislodged the distracted adept, and Damien was the one who pounced this time: a brief tussle ensued, which ended with Gerald pinned firmly to the tangled sheets with Damien grinning down at him.

"I said stop teasing, you bastard."

Gerald smirked wickedly. "It's only teasing, love..." He arched suddenly, and Damien's breath left his lungs in a ragged gasp as the adept's impossibly long legs wrapped smoothly around his hips, pulling him down onto Gerald so that they were pressed tightly together. Gerald's tongue lapped tantalizingly over the tendons of Damien's throat before he leaned up and breathed against the Knight's ear, "..if I don't intend to follow through."

Damien swallowed thickly, barely biting back another low groan as he dropped his hands to the waistband of Gerald's leggings. "Get these vulking things off now." he all but snarled.

Gerald obeyed with alacrity and a surprising lack of complaint: somewhere in the delicious tangle of electrified touches and messy kisses, Damien's own remaining clothing disappeared as well, and they fell back against the sheets with nothing but slick skin and panting breaths between them. It was absolute bliss.

That wasn't to say either had given up in their struggle for dominance, far from it. Damien lost count of how many times they raked each other's skin open in search of a better hold, or bit livid marks onto each other's shoulders and throats, or pinned each other to the mattress to ravage each other's mouths. Making love with Gerald was like fighting a dragon: it was dangerous and thrilling and painful and exhilarating and reckless and glorious, and Damien wouldn't have traded it for anything. In the back of his mind he knew that, come morning, they would both be absolutely wrecked, and it would probably necessitate making some very uncomfortable excuses to Ciani - but he still couldn't stop himself from leaving a darkly blooming bruise on Gerald's throat when he got the chance. Seeing the marks from his mouth scattered across the adept's flawless alabaster skin spelled out a message which, while undeniably possessive and maybe just a bit unhealthy, made the priest's blood burn: mine.

He might have felt more guilty if Gerald hadn't been giving as good as he got. The scratches on Damien's shoulder blades wouldn't be going away for a long, long time - not without fae-driven intervention.

If the foreplay was like fighting a dragon, actually being inside Gerald was like trying to break a wild stallion after getting hit by lightning. Heart racing, skin tingling, blood running hot and fast, nerves on fire with sensation. Gerald might have been the one on the bottom, but submissive he was not: he met every thrust with equal force and demanded more, his hips bucking against Damien's and his lithe body undulating sleekly, his legs wrapped around the Knight's waist to drive him deeper. At some point, he managed to flip them over yet again: it was the sight of Gerald over him, hands braced on the Knight's chest and his golden hair damp and tangled and his eyes positively glowing that had Damien coming undone like he never had before in his life.

After, when their lungs had recovered enough oxygen that their panting was no longer the only sound in the room, Damien could only manage two words. "Vulking hell."

Gerald laughed softly, his voice breathy and a little rough. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Damien huffed out a hoarse chuckle, his eyes still tightly shut and his limbs heavy as lead, panting lightly as he tried to quell the sensation of light-headedness that still gripped him. "No kidding. After that, I can honestly say that I doubt too many people survived a night with you when you were still human, either."

Gerald made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh, and Damien managed to turn his head and look over at him. The adept was sprawled out across the tangled sheets as though his bones had liquified, a languid smile hovering on his lips and his grey eyes half-closed and hazy with pleasure: he was watching Damien through the curtain of his dark lashes, and Damien thought that he looked rather a lot like a satisfied predator lazily regarding its hobbled prey. Damien's own grin stretched wider at the sight, and somehow he convinced his aching muscles to move one more time, rolling onto his side and pulling Gerald closer. The adept went willingly, molding against Damien like he belonged there, his silky golden hair spilling against the Knight's chest as his breath sighed coolly over Damien's sweat-coated skin.

The Hunter's voice was a low murmur. "That was definitely worth the wait."

Damien chuckled as he closed his eyes, content to just lie there and soak in the feeling of Gerald quiescent in his arms. "Yeah." He paused just a moment, then mentally shrugged and settled his arm a little more securely around the adept. "I love you."

Gerald didn't respond immediately, but Damien wasn't expecting him to: it was enough for him that the adept hadn't bolted when he said it. He was well on his way to drifting off when he felt Gerald shift a little in his embrace, his lips just grazing Damien's jaw as he whispered against the Knight's skin, "As I love you, Damien."

Damien fell asleep with a smile on his lips and a warm contentment in his heart.



Alright, who snuck that fluff in there? Heh heh - I hope you enjoyed that, fellow fangirls. Let's hope this suffices to tide you over while you wait for the good stuff in Let The New Era Of Vengeance Begin.