"For I know my transgressions, And my sin is ever before me." -Psalm 51:3

Through the thin hotel walls, the shower sounded like beads parading against the porcelain, Kyle sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers as he dried off his hair. He grumbled to himself, hating always having to be the first one of the two of them awake and cleaned so his thick curls had time to dry and calm their shit before the day could start. He pulled down the complimentary towel with a sigh, shaking his head and letting wet strands flop listlessly around his scalp. Multicolored eyes swept over to the nightstand and his charging phone, pulling it from its hold and off the cord. He hummed to himself, carefully maneuvering his claws to avoid scratching up the screen, his damn protector could only do so much against the power of Hell, he supposed.

Kyle quickly found his contacts, scrolling through the list until finding 'Mom' and taking a deep breath. He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. "I've done a lot for you," he said quietly. "Please just let this be fucking painless." Another breath expanded through his chest before braving pressing the name and switching the phone onto speaker, holding it in one hand and the other going back to work with his towel.

A good four rings passed between him and the sound of the shower before a chipper "Good morning, Bubbeleh" graced his presence.

"Hey, Ma," he answered. "Everything going all right?"

"It's going wonderfully. Katlyn and I are going shopping today so she can have some nice clothes." He closed his eyes. Fucking called it.

"Ma, why are you buying her nice clothes?" he asked steadily, reminding himself to keep in control less he start blowing up walls. "She has nice clothes. Her dresser can only fit so much."

She huffed, "Your father and I are taking her to temple tonight, since you seem to have neglected doing so."

He dropped his towel beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose and forcing himself to take a long, needed breath. "Ma. Ken and I talked about this a lot," he emphasized. "I'd really rather you didn't until me and Ken take her first."

"What's wrong with her getting exposure to what she'll be experiencing later on?"

He frowned, "Because it's not fair if Ken gets to take her to her first mass but I don't get to take her to her first temple."

A pause came over the line, Kyle practically hearing the wheels spinning rapidly in his mother's brain. "…Mass?"

"Yes, Mother," he said firmly, eyes rolling dramatically. "Remember the fact that my husband's Catholic?"

She let out a long, irritated sigh. The kind that Kyle experienced time and again in his youth when he was being stubborn and she was overwhelmingly disappointed in him. "Kyle, this is a good thing for Katlyn."

"Yes, if Ken and I take her," he emphasized. "Ma, please. I am begging you to just respect this one fucking thing. She's my child and-"

"And you haven't set her on a path at all! Bubbie, you're hindering her growth!"

"For God's sake," he muttered, pinching his nose hard enough for his claws to break his skin, pulling back with a hiss and healing himself with a grimace. "We're not hindering a goddamn thing, Ma!" he snapped, barely catching the sound of the shower switching off at once. "Ken and I made a goddamn agreement, you can't disregard my wishes like this! You do this and I swear to God you're not watching her again!"

She let out a gasp, "Don't you speak to me like that, young man!"

"Then don't take my daughter somewhere where I don't want you to take her!" he shot back. He glanced up at Kenny gunning it out of the bathroom wrapped haphazardly in his towel, looking at him in worry with soap suds still lingering on his shoulders and legs. The redhead rolled his eyes again and Kenny sank onto the bed next to him with a sigh, dripping hand tracing up his bare back to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm just trying to help you," she emphasized. "Obviously you just aren't handling figuring out how to make this all work efficiently. She needs some kind of structure in her life, Kyle." Kenny glared darkly at the phone, his hand tightening around his husband protectively.

"She's. THREE," Kyle reminded her venomously. "A three-year-old doesn't need goddamn structure like that! Leave that aspect to me and Kenny. Once we take her when she's older, then you can take her as much as you please, Ma."

His sensitive ears perked, hearing a "Grandma, why're you shouting?" in the background.

"Put her on," Kyle demanded.

Sheila paused again before huffing, "I don't think you should talk to her with this kind of attitude, Kyle. She doesn't need to hear you so angry."

"Put her on the god. Damn. Phone," he spat.

Kenny leaned up and kissed his ear, continuing to rub him down. "Shhhh," he coaxed. "Deep breaths," he whispered, not wanting to deal with not only Kyle's emotions getting the better of him, but the damn property damage bill if he happened to lose it.

They both looked at the phone as it shuffled around before a small grabbing sound filled the empty air. A cheerful, "Hi, Daddy!" broke the tension and Kyle fell slack at once.

"Hey, Hon," he answered, voice losing its poison. "You doing all right?"

"Uh huh. Grandma made… made me pancakes."

"She did?" Kenny asked with a small grin.

A short pause came before they could practically hear her smile over the line. "Hi, Papa! Yeah, sh-she did. Not as good as Daddy's t-though."

Kyle straightened up smugly, hoping to God that his mother was standing in the background fuming at such an insinuation. "Well, I'll make you better pancakes when we get home," he promised.

She hummed happily, "M'kay. When are we goin' home?"

"Sunday," Ken answered. "We'll see you that morning."

"Will Val-for be home?"

Kyle smirked lightly, "Yeah, we'll get him home, too. Don't let Grandma boss you around too much, all right?"

"Okay-," she paused, the boys hearing murmuring behind her and glancing at each other wearily. "Grandpa wants the phone," she informed them.

"All right, go ahead," he said softly. "We'll talk to you tonight."

"Love you!" she said before the phone was hurriedly handed off, the two of them smiling a bit as her footsteps quickly receded away from the speaker.

"Hey, Kyle," Gerald said tiredly.

Kenny went back to rubbing Kyle's shoulder as the tenseness of his muscles settled right back in. "Hey, Dad," he murmured. "You're not going to fucking lecture me, too, are you?"

"No, no, no," he said, the boys looking at each other as they heard a door open and close and the sound of a car passing by in the background. "You really don't want us taking Kat, huh?"

He let out a long breath, moving to lean back against Kenny's sudsy form and let him wrap around him, forcing himself to just focus on the warmth as opposed to the anger once again trying to steadily build. "I really want Ken and I to take her first. It means a lot to me."

"I understand completely, Kyle," he assured him gently. "You know how your mother gets. I'll talk some sense into her."

Kyle shook his head, "No offense, Dad, but it hasn't worked all the other years of your marriage I doubt it'll start today."

His father let out a soft chuckle and a bit of an exhausted sigh, obviously just as willing to deal with a morning brawl as Kyle was. "Well, I'll figure something out. What if you two came tomorrow morning and we all four took her?"

Kyle glanced at Kenny who gave him a shrug and a simple smile. That one was all on him, Kenny didn't care one way or the other, so long as he was happy. He nodded slowly in consideration before glancing back down to the timestamp working away on the screen. "Yeah. Yeah I'd be fine with that."

"Can I get you to compromise on your mother buying her a nice outfit?" he asked, voice half-pleading. That was always Gerald's role as Kyle got older: trying to be the buffer between the two dominant personalities of their household until Kyle finally left and the ever-shifting rift between the two of them all but died out. Aside from occasions like this at the very least. But, as much as he wanted it to be fair all around, both of them knew the only way to preserve any amount of peace: Sheila was going to have to have somewhat of an edge.

"That's fine, Ger," Kenny interjected quietly, giving Kyle another innocent shrug and a peck on his temple. "Only one though. She's runnin' outta room in her closet."

"And outgrowing everything in about two weeks," Kyle shook his head, smirking softly at the continued attention being planted along the side of his face.

"Absolutely," he concurred. "Thank you, Kyle."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, "No, thank you. Nice to know at least one of you remembers whose kid she is."

Gerald chuckled softly, "Your mother has pretty bad empty nest syndrome. She misses having you and Ike to coddle."

"Look, Ike can still be coddled, he can't even cook noodles without smoking out his apartment," Kyle reminded him flatly. "Doesn't all have to redirect onto Kat."

His father made a half-awakened sound of agreement before sinking back into a sigh. "Look, I'll do what I can. I'll let you know if she's flat-out refusing or anything. You boys have a good day if we don't see you until tomorrow."

"Thanks, Dad," Kyle murmured. "Good luck."

"Talk to you later, boys," he noted before hanging up on his end.

Kyle hung up as well, staring down at his claw resting against the glass screen. Kenny shifted a bit and kissed the nape of his neck. "What happened to we just let 'em take her?"

He turned and looked back at his husband, shoulders sinking. "Look, I don't know. I just got really upset when Ma said they were taking her. Like… Jesus Christ, Ken, what if she's only exposed to shit like that without us guiding her along? She's so fucking impressionable right now who knows how headfirst she'd get into the idea. It'd fucking tear her apart if we're not there to balance it out with like, suggesting other options and she happened to see me like I am, ya know? I mean I know that wouldn't happen from just one trip to the synagogue but it just feels like it would." he winced. "I don't want her to think one thing all her life and then it turns into the proverbial Santa Claus."

Kenny nodded slowly, raising both hands to work the back of Kyle's neck and sighing through his nose. "Didn't happen for you," he reminded him gently.

Kyle snorted and shook his head, red and green dropping down to the hotel carpeting and his shoulders drooping. "Except it did. And I hate that it did."

He paused, scooching closer and looking at him in concern. "Wait, you didn't tell me that."

"Kenny. I'm Jewish. You know what Jews don't believe in? The devil. You know what I am? I'm third in line for the goddamn devil," he said bitterly. "So… I get to look in the mirror every day and go 'ah fantastic, everything I was raised to believe was wrong'. And everything you were raised to believe. And everyone else… But it's still important to me. I want Kat to have the experience, but we can still kind of… push her a little more towards the center of doctrine and truth, ya know?" he winced.

Kenny nodded again, kissing the crook of his neck. "That's really the only way to do it."

"Wouldn't be fair to keep her out of everything religious altogether," Kyle emphasized.

He twisted his lips, leaning his chin down on Kyle's shoulder. "Let's start our own religion."

Kyle glanced back at him, snorting softly. "Fucking what?"

"We'll start our own. And it'll be awesome because you n' me are part of our bible. We could star in the movies."

"One, you're an awful actor," he reminded him with an eye roll as he shifted back around to face him. "Two, just what roles would we even have? Good and evil or what?"

Kenny shook his head, "Nah. You're the good, protective demon who comes to the ever-brave archangel to fuck and restore your powers," as he gestured towards himself, fluttering his lashes. "The only way for you to keep the world safe is by the power of my dick. So our people will hold ceremonies and set up rooms for us to fuck in. Leave us offerings of lube and dildos and set aside time in their days to wish us a successful banging. You know. For the good of the world."

Kyle stared at him in silence for a moment before a twitching smirk played on his lips, beginning to sputter with laughter, falling forward and landing his forehead on Kenny's clavicle. Kenny smiled, running his hand up through damp curls as he continued to cackle and scratching dotingly along his scalp. "I don't think that's the 'sword' God wanted you to use to save shit," Kyle teased.

"Hey, so long as shit's saved, no one can bitch about the method," he shrugged. "'Sides. My sword is for saving you only."

"Oh, my hero," he rolled his eyes in amusement, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest.

Kenny wrapped his arms around him, pulling and twisting him with a quiet yelp as he slammed him onto his back against the unmade mattress, straddling over him with a grin, wriggling his brows. "So. Need a rescue?"

Kyle stole a glance at the digital clock on their nightstand before turning back to him with an innocent shrug. "You'd have to save me pretty quickly. I think we'll get murdered if we're late for the ceremony."

"Babe. Please," he scoffed, reaching down and throwing off his towel, hands snapping to Kyle's waistband and fighting his boxers off lean legs. "I am a professional. I can save you nice and fast."

"Hm," he mused, hand sliding up a toned arm and flicking residual suds off to the side. "Might get a lil messy."

Ken leaned down and stole a kiss. "Would you say it's a… sticky situation?"

Kyle grinned, shaking his head a bit. "Remind me why I married you."

"Becauuussseee," he drawled, hands tracing down to Kyle's hips and sliding him further up the bed, Kyle finding himself with his head hanging over the edge staring at their curtained window. "I'm the best at this," he finished, leaning down and flatly sliding his tongue over Kyle's excitedly twitching cock. Kyle let out a soft, surprised noise, melting into a flustered puddle as Kenny wrapped his arms around him under the small of his back and burrowed in closely, kissing and nipping at his hips. Kenny's hand lightly came up and grasped around his dick, pressing it down against his belly and tracing his tongue down the length of the skin. He hummed, pleased with the freshly cleaned taste as he moved down and took a ball between his lips. Kyle moaned, head leaning back further in his compromised position as Kenny suckled away, tongue swirling about as it wished.

Kyle's eyes fluttered shut, a hand moving to lightly grip against Kenny's hair, earning him a quiet moan to vibrate around his skin. A long, shaking breath left his chest at a hard suck before Ken pulled off his balls, tongue tracing further down. Kenny grinned at the soft yip from his husband as his tongue swiped over the sensitive, puckered flesh. He unwrapped from around Kyle's waist, hands repositioning to snag the globes surrounding him and pull them apart, allow himself to bury his face into the warmth. He hummed, kissing and flicking his tongue over his hole, feeling a warmth of contentment being right where he felt most at home.

A loud, aroused moan left Kyle's tremoring form as Kenny's tongue pressed inside, wet warmth wriggling against his muscled walls and completely destroying any notion of annoyance harbored mere moments ago. Kenny's nose nudged against his balls as he worked, the added pressure driving Kyle nothing short of mad. Fingers tightened in locks of straw hair, Kenny delving further and moaning against him. Blue eyes flickered with a reminder of time being of the essence, pulling back away all too soon and getting a pathetic whine and tugs against his hair. "Hang on, hang on," he coaxed, contorting backwards and reaching towards the nightstand, ripping open the drawer and snagging the lube tossed in atop the hotel's bible and smirking self-righteously. He had a feeling it'd feel a little more risqué if he didn't know God's approval of his and Kyle's relationship, but nevertheless, he could feel the boisterous attitude of that nine-year-old being dragged in and out of confession just cracking up at where life had led him.

He leaned back down into his spot, handing Kyle the lube. "Start," he ordered, moving to toss Kyle's legs over his shoulders and go right back to his face buried in his ass.

Kyle hissed in pleasure, shakily going to pour lube over his left palm, ignoring the marking plastered so prominently, the pentagram staring at him in judgement. The same feeling festered within his chest as always: a claim of victory as he wrapped his hand down around himself and slowly began to pump. None of that bastard's markings mattered. Not to Kenny. Every scar, every tattoo, every alteration didn't mean shit. Because it was still Kyle under every mar of his flesh, and Kenny would so very happily indulge in the most intimate of his person regardless of what covered him. Kyle leaned his head back further with a content grin and a long moan as Kenny's tongue went right back where it belonged. His hand carefully stroked, keeping his fingers loose enough to prevent any unwanted clawing.

A sharp inhale rushed through him as Kenny made a happy sound, palm pumping faster around himself. A part of him was always a little off-put how much sooner he had to start than Kenny. His husband loved it, Kyle gaining a stamina from his demonic essence that could keep him going for over a goddamn hour if he didn't let his mind become overwhelmed with stimulation. It'd been something that'd taken both of them by surprise, Kenny immediately diving into all the 'fun' things he could do should Kyle keep his cool. It'd turned into what Kyle could only call part of his healing process, Kenny taking the multiplied minutes and using them to smother Kyle in an affection that he could never tire of. It'd become a heavier prescription of an already potent drug, and Kyle sure as hell wouldn't mind going out from an overdose.

Kenny hummed, his own cock pressed down against the bed and demanding to be touched, hips pulsing on their own accord for the slightest of friction. But that wasn't what mattered; What mattered was the sounds Kyle was making, the way the heat of his body flooded over him and tried to suffocate him. What mattered was the clean taste of his tongue and the cramping of his jaw as he partook in his favorite of pastimes. More often than not as the years had waned on, Kyle would wake up flipped over on his stomach, a tongue poking inside of him and loving hands kneading the skin of his ass. And on alternate days, Kenny would wake up and toss the blanket off his legs, finding a pair of lips wrapped so eagerly around his cock.

It didn't matter how often pained jokes would pass about their clichéd circumstance, being on the sides of Heaven and Hell, angel and demon. What mattered was no matter how holy, no matter how unclean anyone else would consider either of them to be, the other worshipped their body. All they wanted was to indulge in tastes and scents and sounds permitted only for the other to enjoy.

Kenny slid his tongue back out and into his mouth, moving up and quickly suckling on Kyle's sac before he leaned fully up and over his flushed husband, blue eyes gleaming with joy. Kyle looked at him and smiled as he moved over him, palm extending to grip Kenny's leaking cock and press against his own, lubed hand steadily stroking over both of them. Ken shuddered, leaning down and planting a long kiss against Kyle's lips, relishing in the quiet, pleased hum and the clawed hand coming up under his arm to curl around his shoulder.

"Remember… when you wanted… me to be quick?" he asked breathlessly between kisses.

Kyle shrugged, giving a firm tug that made both of them gasp and arch into the other. "I haven't stopped you. You're the one who decided to make more effort than necessary."

Kenny smirked, nipping his lip and snagging the lube from the comforter, awkwardly contorting his arms around Kyle's head to douse his fingers. "It was extremely necessary," he corrected, moaning softly at a thumb pad gliding over the head of his cock. His head tilted, planting his lips against Kyle's burning cheek, feeling the muscles riding into a wider smile. He snapped the lube closed and tossed it aside, fingers trailing back down to Kyle's moistened hole and prodding inside, a soft noise breaking from the back of Kyle's throat.

Kyle's eyes smoldered, completely overtaken by Kenny's scent and loving it. "You have the best priorities."

"I know," he said smartly, a second finger delving right inside the tight heat and Kyle throwing his head back, hand tightening as he gave a firm set of strokes, shuddering from the invasion.

"Ken… Ken," he whined, squirming at the pressure tottering against his prostate. Kenny beamed smugly, leaning down and planting lips and teeth against Kyle's prominent clavicle, suckling slowly as he scissored him. Kyle's free hand curled tautly around his shoulder, encouraging his fingers to keep playing their mind-numbing games. His hips arched time and again, riding the invading digits and kissing Kenny's neck frantically. Soon enough, a third counterpart joined, Kenny's fingers twisting and stretching as he watched his husband moan and writhe. Kyle's hand kept steady around the both of them, persuading his attention onward. Kenny pulled back from his mark, staring at the deep, dark purpling splotch crawling up Kyle's collarbone from his wandering lips and feeling a swelling pride.

He glanced up to Kyle's face, the flushed cheeks and the batting lashes, reading the pure affection simmering steadily in pools of ruby and basil. He cocked a haughty smirk, brows raising and lowering teasingly as he spread his fingers. "Like that?"

"U-uh huh," he gulped, keen mind led astray by the domineering prowess Kenny commanded over him in the moment, the stance he somehow always managed to steal without Kyle even knowing until it had him pinned down and helpless.

Kenny saw his opportunity, knowing it was fleeting, that Kyle would swap right back into his stubborn self in a matter of moments. Exploiting this temporary loss of bratty tendencies was always a favorite game of his. "Tell me you like it," he goaded.

Eyes obscuring with thick lashes, a wavering breath rattling his chest, Kyle let out an airy, "I love it."

He grinned, leaning down and kissing him briskly; his tiny reward for cooperation. "And just what, my dear, do you love even more?"

Recognition of the lead-up fleeted through his mind, quickly snuffed out by a jerking jolt against his prostate sending him into a long-winded groan. "You?" he said, not sure if he even remembered the damn question right.

Kenny snorted, twisting his wrist and watching Kyle shamelessly ride along his working hand. "While a great answer, not what I was looking for. What part of me do you love more than this?" he emphasized with a quick stretch of his muscles.

Kyle gasped, hand jerking them a bit harder, his thumb mindlessly playing in their collecting pre-come and smearing the fluids together around their heads. His mouth dropped open a bit, jaw shaking, fangs gleaming in the hotel room lighting as he slowly came back down from the clouds. "I love… your brain. Because it makes sure I'm the smart one," he grinned cheekily.

Kenny snorted, head dropping down against his shoulder and back shaking with laughter. "You jackass," he cackled, kissing his neck and ripping his fingers out, wiping them on the comforter and jerking his hips down against Kyle's own. "C'monnn," he urged. "Tell me whatcha want."

Kyle rolled his eyes, temporary blinders finally shed. "Ken, just fuck me."

"Noooo I want you to be specific," he whined.

"Kenny. We don't have time to-"

"Then you better hurry," he scoffed, grinding down once more and watching him hiss, releasing both of their cocks and letting them press against his stomach.

Kyle shook his head. And Kenny called him the stubborn one. Kenny watched in confusion at a bright red glow encompassing his left eye, yelping as a jolt of power snagged him and drug him down against Kyle's torso. Kyle tilted his head up, lips tracing along his neck as Kenny gulped, shifting and maneuvering his cock right outside where he wanted to be. "Please," Kyle whispered, claws oh-so-gently urging him on. "Kenny please. I need you."

He grinned, lips tracing over his ear, leaving a nice wet trail as they went. "Just what do you need from me?"

He pulled back, heavy, needy pants washing over Kenny's throat. "I need you… to stay right there."

Kenny blinked, looking down in bewilderment, catching the red glow taking hold once more and a wild grin on Kyle's face, gasping as his hips were forced down and he found himself plunging into Kyle's waiting body. Kyle arched with a long cry at the sudden breakthrough, entire body prickling with enthusiasm as Ken caught under the small of his back and kept him propped. His head dropped back down over the bed, laughing to himself as he felt Kenny trying to recover from the sudden envelopment, clenching his muscles and eliciting a hiss.

Kenny chuckled and shook his head, "You little cheat."

Kyle glanced back down, brow cocked with a smarmy grin. "So? You gonna complain or are you gonna fuck me until I'm limping to this wedding?"

"On one condition," he hinted.

He sighed and shook his head. "Please, make me scream with your cock. Because I need it so bad. Or something."

"Good enough," he nodded, giving a sharp thrust that made Kyle's head fall straight back again with a yelp. Kenny tongued over his teeth, going straight into a nice, quick rhythm, grinning at Kyle's beautifully adaptable capabilities. Another lovely perk he'd garnered that they never mentioned, but exploited more than enough. Silver linings, they both told themselves as Kenny's hips snapped ruthlessly against him, Kyle's body compliantly spreading out to accommodate. Kyle let out a yip as he slipped down with a particularly rough thrust, catching himself on the floor with his hands and arched over the edge of the bed. "Shit, you okay?!" Kenny asked, trying to pull him back up, pressing back in in the process and prompting a radiant tingle to cascade along Kyle's spine from precise aim.

"Yes, go!" he urged.

Kenny paused, looking at his bent form and raising his brow, wondering if all the blood had rushed from head to head at this point. "Uh, you sure about that?"

Kyle growled, pushing back a bit. "Kenny, I can hold myself up for hours like this; just go," he snapped. Kenny shrugged to himself a bit. Not like he was wrong. Lither form or not, Kyle had a hell of a lot more strength than Kenny could shake his sword at. He gnawed his lip, pulling Kyle's hips up higher from under his back and bearing down his stance, propelling forward and listening to Kyle's needy sounds from below.

Claws dug into the cheap carpeting, Kyle's sight fading out with every on-target hit against his prostate. He moaned, head dropping straight down, blood rushing to his temples and his head impossibly heavy. Kenny leaned up further, free hand curling around the edge of the mattress as he gazed down at the taut angle of his husband, noting the excited tremors with every inward push. Grinning slyly, his hand ran up Kyle's hip and waist, nails dragging down the flesh and leaving pale white marks, overshadowing the raised scars. He raised Kyle even further, hand drawing back and slamming down against the side of his ass, hearing that delighted yelp and humming hungrily. A dripping erection beat against Kyle's belly, leaving a small trail of pre-come to dribble down around his navel.

A predatory growl snuck through Kenny's throat, overwhelmed by the heat surrounding his cock and the sight of Kyle bent backwards so openly just for his viewing pleasure. He slapped his ass again, Kyle letting out a strangled howl, barely able to hear their connecting skin from his rushing blood, only the massive vibrations ricocheting throughout his compromised body indicative of Kenny's erratic rhythm. Ken's head bent forward, sweat dappled along his neck and his arm tightening possessively around his husband's back.

Kyle was past the point of coherent speech, going absolutely mad with the stimulation, claws dipping past carpet fibers and latching onto the plywood below. His fangs gritted, crying out at each thrust, feeling Kenny shaking with effort and overexcitement. The loving, calloused touch of Kenny's fingers drummed along his skin, nails tracing along his bones and carving himself a raw wake of lines leading back towards himself over risen, ugly marks. That was what this was and what it had been: Kyle the unruly canvas scraped from the discount bin and Kenny the artist, seeing his potential and rebuilding him into something worthwhile. Something for the world to look at and see just who'd crafted him into the piece that he was meant to be. The original hands that'd made him the mess in the first place wouldn't fade, brushstrokes forever engrained upon him, the rises and falls of acrylic texture could never be scraped off without destroying his foundation. But Kenny was the master of cover-ups, able to delicately splash him with watercolor, adding layer upon layer of translucence. One coat at a time, he would hide what only Kyle could seem to see. Art took a doting touch, and there was no set of hands that adored him more than the man tracing lines over his hipbone, murmuring half-intelligible words of boundless love and care.

A fingertip petting over a thick scar on his waist, a motion filled with the indication of reassurance and attentiveness, filled Kyle's chest with emotion, eyes welling in the slightest. He licked over his lips, arms bending a bit and a grunt leaving his throat as he used a slight push of power to propel him upwards, Kenny snatching both hands under his back and guiding his body upright. He stumbled backwards with an 'oof' as Kyle smacked into him, Kyle rolling them over as he made contact and putting himself back against the bed, staring up at his husband with a small, happy smile.

Kenny shook his head a bit to catch back up to what'd just happened, shooting him a saucy grin and wriggling his brows. "Sorry, Babe. Am I just too damn good for you to keep up with?"

Kyle huffed out a tiny laugh through his nose and nodded. "Yeah. You're too good for me."

Ken winked, leaning down and capturing his lips yet again, hips pushing back into motion with Kyle's legs wrapping around his slim waist. Kenny's tongue fluidly slipped past his fangs to lavish his mouth, moaning and breathing life into him time and again, completely content to be as they were. Kyle smiled against him, noses rubbing and tongues colliding as Kenny eagerly wrapped his hand around his aching cock. Kyle shuddered, overwhelmed with the intensity Kenny was drowning him within and more than welcoming the submersion. He let his head fall back and their lips separate with saliva messily stranded together still, staring up at Kenny silhouetted by the overhead lamp as he looked down on him with a fond gaze and a cocky smile. He grinned back with lazy ease, fingers tracing down along Kenny's face, the bite of his claws not seeming to affect him in the least.

Kyle let out a long breath, pulling Kenny back down and hiding his face in his neck, humming at light kisses pressing into his jugular. Kenny read him with ease and began slowing his pace, taking the time to enjoy the moment in its entirety with him. Nuzzling down comfortably against his blazing skin, Kyle glanced up at the ceiling and sighed contentedly. His eyes slipped closed at a hand coming up to cradle the back of his hair and keep him close, smiling and taking in the heightened aroma of Kenny's sweat and the sensation of his hands and heat thrusting in and out of him. This was all he needed, he decided. Just Kenny and his attention, Kenny and his touch. And, most importantly, Kenny and his heart; which, as far as Kyle was concerned, was far, far too good to him.

Cramped into a bathroom stall was not exactly where Kyle wanted to be, but of course Clyde and Annie had to decide on a public venue to hold their reception. Three halls, Annie had told them excitedly. Three halls only! It was so quaint!

How someone like Annie managed to oversell something so plain, Kyle would never know. Considering the fact that his own mother had practically strangled another family who tried buying out her reservation for his and Kenny's private reception hall, he supposed maybe he didn't quite know how it was when one was planning their own wedding. He'd long had to accept during that ordeal that he and Kenny may have been the ones getting hitched, but Sheila was going to walk out of that ceremony with more congratulations than the two of them. He'd decided maybe two elements for the both of them, Kenny staying out of the battle altogether. But, then again, Kyle figured he had a pretty good excuse for not being quite so involved with putting himself on display. Didn't stop his mother from ragging for a good three years that she'd 'done so much for them' and repeating "Bubbie you'd be so lost without your mother, you and Kenneth probably would've gotten married in a… courthouse".

Kyle sighed through his nose, sitting on a closed toilet seat and waiting for voices to leave the vicinity, still covered with blood from his whispered spell and just wanting the damn substance off of him. His left lashes tried sticking to the top of his cheek, peeling off one follicle at a time to reveal a slowly adjusting eye. He'd found over time that his left eye would go through spells of minute loss. He couldn't explain it himself, knowing that it was his right that had been so injured. Kenny had made the offhand suggestion after he'd told him of a fuzziness problem that maybe it was his humanity, his angelic tendencies battling it out; that the demon was losing.

Kyle was more than sure that he was wrong, but damn did it make him feel better to think about that now and then.

Given, he always hated to admit it, but his demonic prowess came out more than what Kenny had so graciously shared with him. Senses and strength didn't exactly fade from him, even the fluctuating eyesight probably still clearer than any 20/20 human's. It was an interesting but isolating notion. Kyle often wondered how it would be when he was older, how fifty, sixty, upwards him would be. Would he age the same as his friends and family? Or would he still be able to propel himself up buildings when he was goddamn ninety-four? With Kenny, it wasn't so worrisome, he himself would probably have a least a bit of a boost with his own heavenly blood. But Kat. What about her? What if she was mentally preparing to lose her fathers or figure out where to put them in their advanced age, coming to visit only to see Kyle moving around far spryer than even herself?

Kyle leaned back, sad gleams dancing over his sclera. Hell, he'd found rather quickly that the notion of illness was far gone from him. His days of testing his blood sugar and buckling down in the winter for the annual bout of pneumonia had ceased. He found himself wandering in that fact more often than he cared to admit, curious as to what it would be that would finally be the final call. Old age? But how old was old age for a demon? Was it diminished by his soul's division? Would he just wander around until someone fucking slayed him way down the line? He'd only had five years, the only aging he'd discovered being sparse gray hairs that he could simply attribute to ridiculous amounts of stress. Maybe he wouldn't know until his forties or later.

His ears perked as the voices finally left the bathroom, listening and sniffing the air a bit for the smell of stray humans before finally dubbing the area as clear and hurrying out to the sinks, snatching a paper towel and rushing to get it wetted and start cleaning himself. He grumbled, reminding himself that he needed to bring a towel into the stall with him. Given, he couldn't be too shocked he'd blanked, it'd been quite some time since he'd had to perform his ritual in public. The last he recalled was nearly four years prior, getting caught up by a train on their way to a date night had forced Kyle to spend nearly a half hour in the restroom waiting for a seemingly never-ending parade of people going in and out. Kenny had made it worth it, ordering a bottle of far-too pricey wine that Kyle had always had a fondness for and whisking him out with their food to go eat in the bed of his truck in the woods where the passage of time meant nothing.

A sad, fond smile crawled up Kyle's lips. They hadn't done something like that since Kat was born, their date nights now full of ordering pizza and trying to steal kisses between Kat waking up from nightmares wanting a story and Valefor beating his paw against Kyle's leg wanting to be let outside. But, Kyle figured, that was perfect. It was a very human experience to be so swept up in the happenings of the home and their child to not be able to peel themselves away as they pleased. It was a rigorous structure that Kyle was more than happy to welcome, gladly taking the insanity of working dinner around Kat's ballet classes as opposed to the supernatural happenings that hovered over him oh-so-menacingly.

He sighed, scrubbing the last of his blood off his lips and hands, tilting his head around to be sure he masked all visible scars around his neck. He couldn't help a coy smirk at the markings he was happy to still see: the splotches of purple and red still dancing around his throat and collarbone and the clear imprint of Kenny's teeth marks, Bebe's quick touchup job washed away with his blood. After all, Bebe had told him through her laughter as she pulled the boys aside and starting patting foundation against Kyle's skin, no bride wanted to see that her guests were getting laid a hell of a lot better than she was.

Kyle shook his head, tossing his towel into the trash and snagging a new one, wiping off stray water droplets and trying to get himself somewhat presentable again. He knew just how it was going beyond the wall and down the hallway, Kenny was schmoozing in that fashion that made him blend so seamlessly into any crowd he found himself in. No doubt spending the majority of his time too busy ranting about Kyle and Kat to remember questions regarding himself. Given, not like Kyle could call him an idiot for that, he had a tendency to do the same thing with him in his rare outings. He threw out his drying towel and looked up at himself, taking a deep breath and fixing the sleeves of his dress shirt to their ¾ positioning, snagging his phone out of his pocket and resetting his alarms. "All right," he murmured to himself, flipping on a round of four warnings before putting the device back into place. "Few more hours. Just a few. Avoided this twice already. You got this," he assured himself, smoothing down a cluster of curls trying to make a break for it.

This wedding was already far longer than he'd accounted for, not exactly thrilled with having the ceremony taking three hours in of itself, and being kept at this damn reception for nearly six after the group had gone off to have lunch with one another. He was caught between mortal exhaustion, but a need to be polite, and demonic wiry impatience, not sure which side to lean on heavier. Didn't matter, he surmised. He was letting Kenny call the shots on this one. Kenny was his public relations man, Kyle long since losing all hope of keeping in mind his social cues with his overwhelming paranoia. Only when Kyle was getting massively uncomfortable would Kenny slip them out of the party in that oh-so-smooth way he'd perfected over the years and save Kyle from heavy questioning. Kyle was fine with that. Their friends were happy to see them, Kenny was happy to throw back a few and discuss something with adults that didn't involve PTA meetings, and Kyle was just happy to see Kenny excitable again.

Another deep breath expanded his chest, a final act to gather himself before turning on his heel and heading out the bathroom door into the barren hallway. He glanced towards the sign outside the right room, the fancily embossed gold-lettering reading 'Donovan-Knitts Party'. He made way back into the dimly lit room, sharp ears picking up Kenny's voice from the back right off and starting to walk towards him, stopped by a sudden hand around his arm.

He whirled around to see a grinning blonde holding a drink out for him. "Saved your beer," Bebe cooed.

Kyle snorted, taking the bottle and tipping it towards her, "You're my hero."

"Hmm I know," she smiled, reaching up and leaning on his shoulder, looking towards Kenny before glancing back at him. "So. You and Ken all good?"

"Yeah, great. You already asked," he chuckled.

She waved him off, "I asked when you were together. Doesn't count when you're standing with each other." Amused eyes rolled, Kyle taking a small sip of his drink. "Asked him, too," she continued, tipping her wine glass in her hand. "He somehow got onto ranting about how great your meatloaf is. I'm not sure what kind he was referring to."

He let out a soft snort, "If he called that my 'meatloaf', we'd already be halfway through divorce proceedings." She cackled, leaning her head against his shoulder and shaking it lightly. She pulled back again and looked at him thoughtfully, Kyle catching a question lingering in her stare. "What? What's wrong?"

"Are you sure everything's okay?" she asked quietly. "You so rarely talk to anyone anymore."

Kyle paused, looking at her worry and taking another sip to stall. She wasn't wrong, he'd all but cut everyone off aside from he and Kenny sending out holiday cards and shooting out happy birthday texts. "Yeah. Everything at home is great," he promised. "Just been, ya know, working through some… personal stuff," he said, choosing his words with care.

She leaned back off of him, taking a drink of her merlot and biting her lip. "What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged, tucking curls behind his ear. "Nothing too big. Just kind of dealing with my mother and trying to figure out the best way to get Kat down the right path, ya know?"

Bebe nodded slowly, "Makes sense. That girl's gonna be great. After all, she has my genes," she batted her lashes.

Kyle snorted, "I know, that's why I can't get her fucking hair to calm down."

"Oh, you're one to talk," she teased, reaching up and springing one of his own curls.

"Different when your hair is short, Bebe."

"I keep tellin' 'im if he lets his hair grow out, it'd put a good five inches on 'im," Kenny's cheeky tone popped up, the both of them looking to see him, Stan, and Wendy heading towards them with smirks.

"Yeah, and if I cut off your dick you'd lose two."

"Wow," he looked at him in hurt, punching his arm lightly. "You are mean." Kyle chuckled, elbowing him a tad and sliding under his arm as he raised it, letting him clasp around his shoulders.

Wendy looked out onto the floor and let out a weary sigh. "Well, guess we pulled off a decent party on her shitty budget, huh?"

"It's great, Wends," Kyle assured her. "Surprised Annie had a shitty budget, though."

Bebe groaned, "She spent so fucking much on her dress. The fact that we managed to help her afford caterers is kind of a miracle."

"You gals can do anything, can't ya?" Kenny grinned. "There's a reason Ky and I handed shit off to Sheila."

"Yeah. Fear of her bringing her wrath upon me," Kyle said flatly, getting a chuckle and a kiss atop his head.

Stan rolled his eyes, "That and you two don't know colors for shit."

"All right there, leave the interior decorating snark to the gay men, thanks," Kenny scoffed. "And fuck you, Kat loves to color, we've had to get good at that shit."

"Seriously. You put her blue picture up with a slightly lighter blue magnet and she freaks," Kyle laughed.

Bebe smirked, nudging him lightly. "So she has my hair but your perfectionism? What's she got from Ken?"

"Her ability to get on my last nerve with a single syllable," he shrugged, snorting at a warning shake from Kenny. "My mistake. With six syllables."

Stan cocked his brow in amusement, "Six?"

He put on his best pouting face, "'But Papa said I couullldddd,'" he quoted, looking up at his husband wryly.

Ken pouted, "Oh my god, Pop-Tart milkshakes are delicious, Kyle. It's been three months, let it go."

"And kept her wired for six hours!" he reminded him. "She missed school!"

Wendy looked up at Stan and shook her head. "A vasectomy. You're getting one."

"What the fuck, no!" Stan protested. "Besides, Alex isn't that bad. He doesn't have these two morons as parents," he gestured to the two as they finally broke their stare to look at him with pouts. He turned to the overly-amused Bebe. "We're not like that… right?" he winced.

She cackled, "You're worse. They talk about little spats; you talk about wars. And then won't talk to each other until me and Kyle can get your heads out of your asses. This is why Token and me are only considering a kid."

"You've already been pregnant once," Wendy reminded her. "Second time I hear isn't too awful."

"I like having wine with dinner, okay?" she cocked a freshly-plucked brow. "Besides, it wasn't the pregnancy that was awful, it's the idea of raising it. I was more than happy handing Kat off to these two," she bumped lightly against Kyle's arm. "I like spoiling myself too much. I don't know how I'd do with a kid."

"You'd be a great mom, Bebe," Kyle said. "But not everyone wants to be a parent, nothing wrong with that."

Kenny nodded, "Exactly. So more kiddos born of generous, beautiful ladies such as yourself to help give us non-uterus havers our kiddos."

Bebe smirked, "You already got your kid. Stop sucking up."

"I'm so good at it though," he teased. Kyle chuckled and nodded in agreement, taking another long sip of his drink as the conversation continued to flow.

He paused, lips peeling off his bottle with a small pop as the voice around him all at once became hazy. Kyle glanced around, hearing the murmurs of sound but unable to pick out particular phrases. Something was blocking him. Something was fogging over him, demanding his attention… He narrowed his eyes, hearing the beginning of a clearer sound beginning to approach him through the endless cavern of echoes.

"Li… se…"

He blinked, eyes floating up to look past Wendy's shoulder to the wall, straightening as he tried to pinpoint the noise.

"Lit… ouse…"

Kenny felt him go rigid, head shooting down, heart clenching at the blank expression on his husband's face slowly beginning to creep into terror. "Kyle?" he asked breathlessly, slipping his arm off his shoulders and moving a bit more in front of him.

Kyle's throat bobbed with a gulp, fingers clenching around his beer as he blinked rapidly, praying for something other than what his mind was filling in the blanks for. It couldn't be.

"Oh, little mouse," the voice broke through, clear as day. A gasp left him before he could stop it, entire form locking up at that still-familiar tone dripping with such malice, such hunger.

"Kyle? Kyle!" Kenny gripped his shoulder, shaking him a bit as the other three looked on in bewilderment. A hollowness sank into Kyle's eyes faster than he could keep up with, a terror that Kenny hadn't seen in so long beginning to take hold on him again. "Kyle, Babe, talk to me!" he demanded.

"Little mouse, little mouse," he crooned. "Just where are you?"

Kyle's lashes fluttered in panic, fingers loosening and his beer slipping from his grasp, bouncing off of and splashing onto Kenny's shoe, the man not the least bit deterred as he tried to bring Kyle back into the room. He placed himself in front of his face, dropping his own drink to clatter noisily against the other bottle and grasping onto him with both hands, trying to talk him out of wherever he was going. Kyle couldn't hear him, seeing through his moving lips and his own jaw trembling as he was kept in the isolated haze.

"You're certainly not here, so where oh where could you be?" the voice purred.

The tone of his nightmares, the daily title he heard every single morning was rebounding within his own mind. He was trapped; he was unable to get away from him yet again.

"Kyle! Please! You gotta talk to me!" Kenny shouted, attention dropping from the party and heads slowly turning their way as Ken desperately tried to move his statuesque husband. They didn't matter. What mattered was the fear on Kyle's face, the all-too-familiar gaze of helplessness that still lingered in the back of his mind from so long ago. Kenny's blood began to warm, forcing himself to calm down before powers overthrew logic, before he ended up hurting someone trying to get Kyle out.

"If I'm not with you, and I'm not with McCormick… then just what other part of your family could I possibly be with?" A terrified, strangled gasp left Kyle's throat, unable to feel Kenny's hands tightening around him in equal consternation. Deep, dark chuckles echoed through the mist, that familiar vibrato sending a chill cascading down Kyle's spine. "I'm waiting for you, little mouse."

The haze dissipated all at once, Kyle looking up to find Kenny still screaming at him. He reached up and grabbed Kenny's tie, dragging him down and scared whimpers leaking between them, not taking notice of the wedding party staring at them in befuddlement. Kenny cupped his face in his hands, the worry spilling over his words as he rambled hastily. "Kyle? Babe? What happened? What's wrong?" he begged.

Kyle blinked, the world out of focus aside from the man, the angel, staring at him in doting concern. He knew. Kenny knew exactly what he'd just been subjected to, knowing that flare of protectiveness shooting through steadily mirroring irises anywhere. He gripped onto him tighter, tears welling his eyes as the reality took a hold of him and clamped down around his throat, managing only a strangled croak:

"He has Kat."