True to his word, Ash brought Wren something to eat not long after he said he would. Wren was starving, so he scarfed the food down in front of the watchful and amused gaze of his husband.

Ash was stretched out on the bed length-wise with his head propped up on his hand. Every so often, the auburned-haired fae would steal a morsel off of Wren’s plate. Wren didn’t care. Ash had piled the tray up high, so there was plenty enough for the two of them.

After eating, Ash picked up the tray and placed it on the table beside Wren’s bed. The redhead then flopped back onto the bed.

“How’s the leg and arm?” Ash asked, his hand resting on Wren’s uninjured thigh. Wren had gotten used to Ash touching him, even welcomed it, though the redhead’s insistence to not go further than kissing and touching left him feeling a bit chagrined.

“Both okay.” Wren answered. “Neither hurt, thanks to that purple glowy thing you did with your hand. How’s Ungi doing, by the way?”

“He’s doing fine, other than going stir-crazy since I ordered Naia to keep him on strict bed rest.” Ash said as he edged closer to Wren. The redhead’s breath was warm against Wren’s neck. He lips curved upwards into a wicked smirk. “As for the purple glowy thing, I can do it again before I leave… just to make sure it doesn’t wear off before I see you again.”

The redhead’s teasing voice and caressing fingers sent electrical little shivers down Wren’s spine. He felt pleasant goosebumps on his skin everywhere Ash touched, a feeling that was amplified when Ash’s hand brought on that same tingling warmth in his thigh. Wren sighed as the warmth spread from the wound on his thigh to other places. He knew he shouldn’t let himself enjoy this quite so much, but it was easy to pretend they were lovers when Ash treated him this way.

Wren ignored the niggling little voice in the back of his head that warned him against his dangerous line of thinking. Instead, he leaned his head to the side and welcomed Ash’s attentions. He gasped when he felt sharp incisors scrap along the column of his throat, a tactile sensation that reminded him of the danger associated with this place and, even more so, with the man who’s hands were currently sending every nerve-ending in his body alight.

Ash released a frustrated growl as he pulled away from Wren. His bangs hung over one eye, partially obscuring his expression. Feeling emboldened by the redhead’s recent predilection toward touching him, Wren reached forward and brushed the hair out of Ash’s face with his good hand. Ash seized him by the arm, just below his wrist. The redhead twisted his head and he pulled the arm forward until warm lips brushed against the pulse point in Wren’s wrist. Wren felt his heartbeat quicken and he wondered briefly if Ash could feel it where the redhead’s lips connected with his wrist.

Pulling away, Ash repeated his glowy purple palm treatment on Wren’s injured arm and then rolled off the bed. Raking his hair out of his face, he picked up the tray.

“You wait here like a good boy, okay?” He said as he balanced the tray expertly on one hand. “You’re on strict bed rest too until further notice.”

“Oh yeah, and when will that be lifted?” Wren rolled his eyes, but couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“When I’m good and ready to let you out of bed. Get snippy and I may just decide to keep you there.” Ash grinned and flashed a wink at him and the smile that threatened turned into a full-force grin.

With a chuckle, Ash turned and exited the room. After the door, clicked softly shut behind the redhead, Wren flopped onto the pillows behind him. He huffed a sigh, torn between euphoria and a gnawing frustration borne from the desire to do more than merely kiss the man that was starting to take up his thoughts both day and night.

Wren closed his eyes, the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. His breathing steadied and he felt himself slowly drifting. He knew his sleepiness was due to a combination of medication and whatever Ash did when his hand glowed that dark purple shade.

Wren had nearly drifted into sleep when he heard footsteps nearing the bed. He sensed a presence near him. He hadn’t heard the door open, so he figured the intruder to be Ash, as only the redhead entered the room via teleportation or those strange black portals he conjured with a mere wave of his hand.

Wren smiled and stretched lazily. He opened his eyes, only to be met by the sight of Ash’s father. Wren’s eyes widened and he quickly struggled to sit upright.

Ash’s father watched him with nary an expression flickering across his stone-hard features.

Wren swallowed. Hard.

“M-Mr. Blackthorn…” Wren said when the auburn-haired man remained silent. Wren felt a sense of tension fill the enclosed space. So imposing and stifling was the presence of the man in front of him that he felt as if the room had somehow decreased in size.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but study the man. With the elder Blackthorn standing only a couple of feet away, Wren could easily see the resemblance between father and son. The man’s hair was a darker auburn and his eyes a darker shade of amber than Ash’s, but he bore the same regal features as his son.

“You and I need to have a talk.” The elder Blackthorn suddenly said and Wren felt the tension in the room skyrocket.