Work Text:
Malcolm traces the elegant and elaborate tattoo that spreads across Gil's shoulder blades and covers most of his back. It's mostly deep purple, but has hints of silver on some of the scales. Most people are terrified by dragon shifters. When people think of a dragon their memory recalls the fire-breathing dragons in fairy tales and books that burned whole villages to the ground, kidnapped princesses, and slept in mountains filled with priceless riches. Malcolm, on the other hand, frequently does not fall into any category with the majority. He doesn't think the dragon looks fierce or menacing—but then again he's been used to it for around two decades. Even the first time Gil shifted into his dragon form, all of those years ago, he never frightened Malcolm. On the contrary, the large, imposing beast projected protection then and still did now. Gil's eyes—human or dragon—were kind and sincere.
Gil moves under the younger man's touch, his back muscles rippling—it almost looks like his partner is going to change into his dragon form any second. However, Gil groans in protest—he raises himself up on his forearms, turns on his side so his back is facing Malcolm, hugging a plush pillow to his chest.
"What time is it?" he grumbles against the pillow, barely discernible.
"Almost ten in the morning," Malcolm answers as his fingers walk down the scales of Gil's back. "We flew in late so I figured I'd let you sleep."
"Did you sleep?"
Malcolm continues to walk his fingers down Gil's back, stopping at the base of his tailbone. "One and a half? Two hours? Nothing unusual. You barely stirred when I woke up. You were out cold."
Gil half yawns. "Not surprising."
The last six weeks had been hell for the NYPD. Finding a serial killer that has been hiding in plain sight for at least half a year can take a toll on anyone. For a month and a half both of them have been living out of Gil's office—taking shifts sleeping on the couch—hastily eating fast food burgers in silence before settling back into work mode. The only time they spent together was a few random and exhilarating moments in a janitor's closet to grind against each other until they both orgasmed. That had been the norm until three nights ago when they caught the serial killer—proving Malcolm's profile was correct (because of course it was). The killer who had been targeting and murdering red haired high end escorts in the city was a middle-aged woman who didn't attend medical school but probably had a relative who did.
The head of the NYPD told Gil to take a break—he'd earned it. They both made a few calls to settle everything before they took off into the air to fly to the private island that the Whitly’s owned as a getaway. The flight exhausted them both. Halfway there, they had to make a quick landing because Malcolm's wings were tired out—a crow can't fly as fast as a dragon does. He had transformed back into his human form and rode the rest of the way on the dragon shifter's back. It was well past two in the morning when they reached the island. They landed on the beach, trudging up the steep dunes to the luxurious over the water bungalow and fell into bed.
"I did get up a few hours ago." Malcolm ticks off what he did with his fingers. "I watched the news. Went through my yoga routine. My stash of Twizzlers hasn't expired—so I had my breakfast of champions. Then I finished a book while watching the sunrise from the safety and air conditioning of the great indoors."
"You know that's not good for you, kid?" Gil shifts to lay on his back—his arms folded into a bow behind his head.
"Which part?"
His partner gives him a look. "Your habit of eating candy as a meal. I know, I know," he says the second Malcolm opens his mouth to protest. "Most food makes you sick."
A wicked smile plays over Malcolm's face. "I know something I love to have in my mouth." He moves so he straddles Gil's thighs, draping himself over the other man. Through hooded eyes he glances up to see that Gil's pupils are dilated. Malcolm's tongue darts out and circles the areola—with one of his hands he pinches and twists the other nipple. He latches his mouth over one and sucks—hard—at the same time he pinches and pulls the other.
Gil hisses, "Fuck, Bright." He laces his fingers through Malcolm's hair and jerks his head up—forcing the younger man to release with a loud pop. "You wanna suck me off, baby?"
Malcolm groans, "Yes, Daddy." He licks his lips slowly, dragging his tongue over the soft skin lustily. He tests if Gil will release his hair before pulling away, leaving a trail of kisses down his partner's dusty abdomen. "I love Daddy's cock." Achingly slow he licks a stripe along the vein. "I love how big it is." He nuzzles it lovingly—paying his respects. "I love how it fills up my mouth—how my lips stretch around your cock because of how thick it is." Malcolm lets out a small gasp before teasing the head against his lips for a moment. "I love when it hits the back of my throat—I love choking on Daddy's cock." Lazily he sucks at the tip—his tongue twirling around the head. “I want Daddy to fuck my face."
Gil hums—thinking, stroking Malcolm's cheek and removing his member from the other shifter's mouth. "Not today, baby. I want us to go nice and slow."
Malcolm nods in agreement and opens his mouth wide—his tongue sticking out ever-so-slightly. He waits patiently for Gil to act. Slowly, more slowly than Malcolm would have liked, the older man feeds him his fat cock until Malcolm's face is pressed up against pubic hair. He chokes for a moment once the head of Gil's cock brushes up against the back of his throat. Malcolm pulls away slowly, hollowing his cheeks as he travels down Gil's length. He repeats the motion a few times, reveling in the noises the older man is making. He does his best to watch his Daddy's reactions—the increase in his breathing, that Gil's fingers twist the sheets every time Malcolm swipes his tongue at the pooling precum.
Gil grips his hair—guides him deeper, "Oh fuck, baby," he moans, pulling Malcolm off of his aching erection. Malcolm gives him a puzzling expression. "I don't want to cum yet. Let's take this somewhere else."
They shower together—the warm water sprays onto their bodies as Gil fucks Malcolm against the smooth tile wall. Malcolm's legs are wrapped around his waist and is held up by Gil's large hands digging into his ass. Malcolm gasps every time his boyfriend hits the spot deep inside that always crumbles him. Pleas of more, deeper, harder, tumble out of Malcolm’s mouth, only for Gil to slow down his thrusts and finally snap back inside with brute force. He's a withering mess by the time Daddy gives him permission to cum—and in turn comes deep inside of Malcolm. Gil lets him down gently, kissing his neck, making sure that he's okay, whispering how much of a good boy he is, sucking the skin on his neck so hard that there's going to be a bruise.
It's past noon by the time they get out of the shower. Gil plunders through the fridge and finds enough ingredients to make them both strawberry pancakes. Malcolm licks the leftover batter with his fingers much to the dislike of Gil. The pair sit outside on the open veranda eating their brunch, trying their best but failing not to talk about the case that wrapped up—the next steps, the arraignment hearing, getting everything in order for the prosecution's case, testifying at the trial. After a bit the older man steers the conversation away to something neutral. Malcolm goes on a fanboy rant about the novel Frankenstein and proclaims that he needs to force Gil to read the masterpiece. They make a deal that he'll read Frankenstein if Malcolm will finally listen to every ABBA album on vinyl because his partner insists that is the only way to listen to music; and that it should be a crime for anyone not to know at least the chorus to Dancing Queen.
The vast expanse of aqua ocean and the clear light blue sky makes all of this relaxing—Malcolm's anxiety and worries melt away by the neverending calm.
Once both have finished eating and have cleaned up, they return to the veranda. After a few moments of silence—staring into the distance—the older man strips and looks over his shoulder at Malcolm. "You coming, city boy?" As he speaks, Gil's dark eyes melt into a deep gold and the tattooed purple and silver scales seamlessly pop out and harden, and grow as his body does. The second the wings are large enough the half man half dragon leaps into the air hovering above the small island as the transformation is complete and Gil is finally in his dragon form. Malcolm smiles, and copies his partner in shifting into his own crow form. Soon enough they soar across the beautiful sky.