|
|
Steel Fire/Cold Blue
by Spyke Raven
Email: (spyke_raven@yahoo.com)
Summary: When love and hate collide. Another twisted trinity.
Disclaimer: Characters of Angel, Spike, Lindsey do not belong to me and I make no money from them.
Spoilers: Most of BtVS Season 5 and AtS Season 2. Upto and including 'Crush' and 'Epiphany'.
Pairing: S/L, L/A, A/S (sort of)
Warning: NC-17, m/m sex, graphic and effusive. I have written Spike. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Dedicated to Meg and 'Netia, who never give up on me. I love you two, and wish this could be better for you. Maybe next time, huh?
Archives: Let me know if not for list archives.
Notes: This is a two parter which must and should be read together and in sequence. Part two is all a single point of view. Sigh. I know. When style and style collide.
Apologies: For my characterization and use of style. It just happens. Between asterisks are in italics. Probably thoughts, but often for emphasis.
And apologies to Kita, but Summer Equinoxes make me do stuff like this.
*********
Part 1.
Steel Fire
*********
Flashes of blue light glanced off the walls, casting an eerie glow about the crypt. The shadows gibbered, retreating from the periodic assault, only to return in full force once the blowtorch was directed elsewhere.
Lindsey squinted a little, eyes adjusting. Whatever else he'd expected, this certainly wasn't it.
"Hello?"
The welder paused and switched off his torch before dropping it carefully by a heap of twisted metal.
"Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of another bloody American. What're you here for, chum, a thrill?" Removed his gloves in swift, economical motions before reaching up to undo his mask.
Lindsey felt in his pocket for his company-issue laser pointer, and shone it in the direction of the sarcasm, narrowly missing the welder's ear.
"Here, turn that off!"
The lawyer paid no attention, going through his mental checklist - bleached blonde hair, yes. Fine, aquiline features, yes. English accent all over the place, yes. And, judging from the growing ridges on the fine face, definitely a vampire.
He nodded and turned the pointer slightly downwards, so it hit a small, but pertinent region on the vampire's chest.
"William the Bloody?"
The vampire raised his eyebrows and looked down at the slowly crisping fabric of his shirt.
"Not for much longer."
Lindsey switched off the laser beam.
"Let's talk."
"Let's not."
Lindsey paused, then nodded. "I can pay."
The vampire took his time looking up and down Lindsey before pursing his lips.
"You probably will. Beer?"
Another mental whiplash.
"You drink beer?"
William the Bloody smirked. "Well, since you're buying."
**
The bar they ended up in didn't appear to be frequented by many humans. William flashed a grin or two at the waitresses and ordered for the two of them. Two foaming mugs arrived in record time, suitably warm.
"Bottoms up," winked the vampire, draining both drinks. "What?" on Lindsey's quirked eyebrow. "You're on steroids. Not good to mix poisons."
"How did you know -?"
"Shame about the hand." The vampire cut him off, tapping the slight discolouration on his wrist that marked the join. "But a good job there. Who's your tailor?"
Lindsey took a breath. "I can tell you. For a price."
"Just a tick." A series of expressive and flirtatious gestures ensured the reappearance of foaming mugs and blushing demon-girls. "Do we get nuts with this?"
Lindsey took a series of deep calming breaths.
*Inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale... *
Cracking a nut open, William the bloody-minded turned back to the fuming lawyer. "Now, where were we? Oh yes. You were going to pay me."
Suppressing a sigh, Lindsey nodded. "For some information. I'm looking for - your companion."
"Which one?" deftly snatching Lindsey's drink from him.
"William - " snarled Lindsey.
"Call me Spike." The voice was suddenly cool, cool as the index finger tracing the seam of his wrist where flesh met bio-prosthesis.
Lindsey swallowed.
"Spike," he tried again.
"Lindsey."
Whiplash time. His brain was getting a sprain.
"Huh?"
"Lindsey," repeated the vampire, looking through a collection of Visa and Mastercards taken from a leather wallet suspiciously like -
"Hey!"
"Ah, ah." Spike held the wallet away from him. Realising that further attempts to retrieve his belongings would be both undignified and futile, Lindsey contented himself with glaring. Spike grinned at him and continued flipping through the cards.
"Lindsey McDonald... whoo, platinum, eh? And gold Visas... what d'you do, laminate the old ones? Aww..." he took out a faded scrap. "And baby pictures?" frowning, turning it upside down. "That dress doesn't suit you."
"My sister," said Lindsey evenly.
Spike paused.
"She died. A few months after that was taken." Lindsey added after a beat
Inclining his head, the vampire carefully replaced the contents of the wallet and slid it over the table.
"Should be more careful who you let hold your hand."
Lindsey replaced his wallet. "I'll remember that."
Spike took a swallow of beer and played with a few nuts. "So. You want to know where Dru is?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And - I'll pay. Whatever you want."
"Ah."
A pause as Spike took a thoughtful swig.
"What if I don't know where she is?"
Lindsey smiled, feeling on surer ground. "We... implanted her... doll... with a tracer. The trail ends here."
Spike sighed. Took another swallow.
"I don't know where she is."
Lindsey suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, letting silence speak for itself. Normally a useful tactic, except this time, the vampire opposite him was using the same.
So he played his trump card. "I can offer you anything you want. That chip in your head? Gone. We have an excellent bio-containment facility. I could import surgeons, neurobiologists, even a dentist to sharpen the fangs afterwards. Whoever you wanted." He leaned forward for emphasis. "Whatever you want. For some information."
Spike smiled a strange little smile and angled his head to look at Lindsey. The sudden juxtaposition of their heads made breathing slightly difficult.
Trying not to look like he was backing down, Lindsey inched back into his former position.
The vampire smiled. Lindsey set his teeth and waited for the other to speak.
Finally, he did.
"What if I don't want?"
A breath held, then exhaled.
"Whatever it is you want," said Lindsey very softly, "whatever it is, I can get it to you."
Spike straightened and looked at him, all traces of emotion gone. Lindsey held the gaze as it turned from evaluation into something else, something deeper and more complex, each new layer of meaning obscuring the first.
"Anything," he repeated for emphasis, letting his eyes do their own communication.
"I think I believe you," said the vampire softly, cool and hard. Lindsey swallowed, remembering the feel of long fingers on the non-flesh of his wrist.
As if in understanding, Spike tapped him lightly there.
"Let's take this somewhere more comfortable."
**
"You don't want Dru," said Spike, nuzzling his neck. "She's not your type."
With an effort, Lindsey opened his eyes, ignoring the hard feel of crypt stone against his back, ignoring the press of wiry muscles against his frame, ignoring the fact that vampires seemed to get erections just like everyone else.
"I want to know where she is."
Spike grinned against his jugular, reaching out with a cat-like tongue to swipe him there. "So you're Angel's man."
Lindsey gasped and bucked against him, uncertain if that was in erotic reaction or irritation.
"I want... you to tell me... where she is!"
"Oh, I don't know," said the vampire, framing his face with both hands and forcing Lindsey to look at him.
Lindsey looked at him.
"I don't know where she is," repeated Spike, seriously and firmly. "I. Do. Not. Know. Where. That. Psychotic. Bitch. Is."
Then he crushed their mouths together in a kiss.
Lindsey closed his eyes.
**
Hands. Hands travelled around his shoulders, down his back and to the waist of his pants, pulling the shirt out and moving under the fabric to touch skin.
*Hands. *Cold hands, long, eloquent fingers touching and mapping circles, soothing and caressing as his body was moulded to hardness, harsh, cold hardness in the front and his mouth
*Mouth. *
Mouth was crushed against mouth, lips against lips, sucking, tasting, *demanding * as the fullness of his bottom lips was nipped and he
*Can't... breathe*
Breathe
Breath being ruthlessly swallowed by the invading tongue that swiped at the inside of cheeks and licked at lips and forced open his mouth to go deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and
"FUCK!" something swore and he was released, choking and gasping to take in air, sweet, wholesome air, while hands patted him roughly on the back and shoulders.
Lindsey leaned against the wall, welcoming the supportive twinges of pain as a thousand odd points of rock grazed the tender flesh of his back. Pain was good, pain meant he was alive, pain meant
*shit! *
"Better?" asked someone curtly, and he nodded, dazed, still involved in the sudden realization that his heart, his heart, after so long, his heart was
*hammering *
"Good," said someone, yanking him into the circle of their bodies. Good, good, so fucking *good* and this time his mouth was thoroughly but leisurely inspected, allowing him time to register all the tastes, all the variations of texture
*beer and nuts and copper and ice and ice and ice why is it so cold and why *
His head pressed into the wall, somewhat cushioned by hands
Long-fingered and cold hands that mapped his skull and teased at his hair while soft voices crooned and called him sweet, called him pet, called him names of reassurance while
*Lips *
Were being crushed against lips and
*Hips *
His hips were jerking rhythmically against hips and feeling, finding the tune, after so long, so bloody long
*NO *
Lindsey tensed, despairing, shuddering in unfulfilled spasms, too caught up in his own ineptness to register the groans coming from someone not him.
"Ah shit,"
and hands, cold hands gripped him by the hips, held him, held him even as he teetered on the edge of release, hovered, and came down on the other side, groaning and in pain.
"Shit!" he swore explosively, almost sobbing. "Shit, shit, shit, FUCK!" leaning into the marble support in front of him while kind hands ran over his hair, petting, soothing, relaxing him until he realised
What
He was leaning into.
*SHIT! *
He twisted, but cold hands braced themselves on either side of him, and his captor, the vampire known as William the Bloody, leaned over him and softly kissed the side of his cheek.
"How long has it been for you, pet?"
*Too long. *
*Too bloody, fucking long. *
**
"How do you want it?" Spike asked, limp but not sated after his orgasm.
Lindsey shrugged, keeping his gaze level, trying to ignore the unwelcome stickiness seeping into the fabric on his stomach and thighs.
"Turn over."
"No." The words startled him as much as they had Spike.
"Not yet," he clarified. "Fair trade."
A corner of Spike's mouth moved up in an imitation of a smile.
"Go on," he said after a while.
Lindsey used a corner of his shirt to mop himself. "You sculpt?"
He looked up to see Spike tense, then relax as he released an unnecessary breath.
"I weld," he said, moving away, as if to say conversation over.
Lindsey reached out and tugged at his wrist. A moment, then Spike gave in, falling on top of Lindsey and letting them kiss.
It was - almost passionless, decided Lindsey, but nice. Very nice, to feel skin against skin; taste alien salt and the need of another person.
Nice.
He could get to like this.
"Why?" he asked, when they'd broken off to readjust and - not cuddle, hell, they were still standing... but just... hook a few limbs together, casual like, for the warmth if nothing else. The crypt was cold.
"Why?" returned the vampire and Lindsey felt himself grin.
"Why do you weld?"
"Want to see?" Spike waited for his nod before uncoiling himself outwards. "C'mon," pulling Lindsey with him.
They padded the short distance to Spike's workplace.
"Ta-dah!" the vampire flung out an arm.
The lawyer stared at the semi-formed metal.
"Nice," he said after a while.
Spike snorted. "Here," reaching down into what seemed like a heap of junk, and pulling out something long and weirdly contorted. "Go on," when Lindsey hesitated, " have a look."
Lindsey took it in both hands and turned it around for a while.
Finally he looked up and met Spike's eyes.
"It's a lily."
Spike smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"You make flowers out of steel," repeated Lindsey inanely.
Somehow it seemed important that Spike say something. Instead, the vampire just stood there, fake smile slowly disappearing from his face, waiting for Lindsey to realise -
"Hell," said Lindsey, tossing the flower aside and pulling Spike into his arms. Reaching up - the vampire was somewhat taller than he - he whispered in his ear.
"Wanna fuck?"
This time he could feel the grin radiate on to his skin.
"Oh, yea."
**
Finger, cool and long, tracing a circle around his neck. Lindsey closed his eyes and tried not to lean into the caress.
"Hmm," tracing, tracing those maddeningly slow circles, defining veins, capillaries, *nerves * he hadn't known he'd possessed, "been a long time, eh?"
The finger stopped; was replaced by hands, two hands encircling his shoulders, holding his face steady so Spike could brush kisses along his jawline.
"The man's not been treating you right, pet," capturing his lower lip and sucking lightly on it. "Not. A'tall. Right."
*He's not my man * but Lindsey didn't say it, instead turned his face towards the vampire, blindly seeking the kiss.
"Ssh, slowly then, slowly," cool softness against his eyes, "we can take this slow."
Two fingers encircling his wrists now, leading him carefully to the heap of musty bedding and tumbled blankets... Lindsey followed, still blindly feeling his way through this maze.
Spike stopped when they were almost on top of the makeshift mattress, and tugged lightly on his wrist. Lindsey forced himself to look upwards.
The vampire was smiling wryly.
"I don't do bleeding seduction scenes."
Suddenly, shockingly, Lindsey found he could laugh. Threw his head back and laughed, laughed till he was hoarse and could feel the blood enter the back of his throat.
Laughed, laughing still, he reached forward and cupped the vampire's face in his free hand.
"Good." Said Lindsey clearly, and felt himself falling forward into steel fire.
**
"I never knew a welder before," said Lindsey, sweating, a little shaky now that they were actually lying down, naked together, casually entwined with Spike's leg over his thigh.
Spike smiled and hooked him in with a leg.
"It's an art form. Like this," demonstrating the kiss.
Lindsey pushed him away.
"What?" asked the vampire, clearly a little irritated.
Lindsey cleared his throat.
"Tell me more. About the art form."
"Hmm," Spike rolled him over onto his back and moved on top, hands braced on either side. "How about fair trade?" rocking slightly, sliding up and down, establishing a rhythm.
"Uh," Lindsey's brain short-circuited as Spike found a way to align their cocks together, and sliding, established friction. Beautiful, mind-blowing, sexier-than-hell, fucking *friction *...
Abruptly Lindsey froze.
Spike threw his head back and gritted his teeth.
"FUCK!"
"I'm trying," snarled Lindsey.
"No you're NOT," growled the vampire, face changing ever so slightly, ridges forming along his cheekbones. "Oh no you're bleeding NOT."
"Spike -"
"Oh that's good, that is." Pushing his hips into Lindsey's. "Say my name, peaches. Say my name and remember who the fuck it is on top of you."
"Damn you -"
"Too late," gripping Lindsey's shoulders harshly, nails elongating, digging in lightly, "too bloody late."
"Get off me," attempting to push up.
"No." Pushing down, nails stroking along the grazes they had made, lips moving down, down to suck at the blood and lick the wounds clean. "No, you want it this way. Bloody hell."
Lindsey gritted his teeth and shoved upwards. Spike clenched his teeth and held to the rhythm.
"Is this how you want it?" spitting out words between strokes and pants, "He taught you to like this?"
"You're insane," panting now, feeling something strange, something tight and uncertain inside begin to twist.
"How did it happen? Bottoms up?" curling his lips in a parody of a sneer, moving one hand down to grip and cruelly stroke Lindsey's cock. "Or did you... bend over... willing?"
Lindsey hissed and jerked his hands free from under Spike. "No." Using his own short but manicured nails to dig and define each straining muscle in the vampire's back. "He... didn't."
"Fuck!"
They did.
**
*Hands again. * Lindsey remembered hands. Remembered them ruthlessly forcing him over and onto his stomach, pinning him down so the lips could have their way.
*Lips. Yes. *
Lips and teeth bit and marked him, grazing and sucking, lapping up the slightest hint of blood, following the trail over the skin of his back.
He heard Spike moan and wondered why he wasn't afraid.
Then suddenly he was, feeling something cold and stubby work its way down south into the crack between his cheeks -
"Wait," he twisted his head and found his words were snatched out of his mouth and into the lungs of this strange dead creature who had him pinned while his hands poked and prodded and
*DAMMIT*
He roared, screaming into the unholy mouth that held him captive while pain, sharp, piercing pain flared across his synapses and demanded to be acknowledged.
*NO *
He twisted and bucked and roared and moved, but was held, held down and felt
*IT *
*move* into him.
*STOP *
Then move, relentlessly inside him, splitting him open till he felt his head dizzy with pain.
*Pain *
There was pain, so he closed his eyes and sank into the red, let the suddenly softer hands pet and stroke his buttocks, let the lips and tongue soothe his clenched jaw, let what was happening *happen *
Which was when he felt himself come apart.
**
He felt Spike withdraw, and the pain of exit was nothing compared to the flaring brightness in his mind.
*Pain *
Was all his world, and for a change not concentrated in the vicinity of his heart. Lindsey reached out for that pain, held on to the pain and let it wash over him, changing, refining him.
*Pain *
As again, he was prodded and entered, harsh groans and moaning accompanying the motion of entry.
*Pain * made him imagine fire, and twisted jagged shards of metal, steel burning hot and naked, open to the flames.
*Steel fire * and to quench the steel, there came soft hands and gentle pats on his back, soothing motions and pretty rhythms meant to ease, meant to distract him from all consuming pain -
Which was somehow and suddenly
Less than it used to be.
*Pain ? *
He felt the cessation of pain and the fluttering of - something else, something new and undefined that accompanied entry and exit and the whispered, angry moans above him.
*Again *, and he hadn't realised he'd said it aloud, except he had and Spike had heard him and so
*slam! *
They were moving and he braced himself against the floor, felt his cock harden slightly then wilt again as the floor made its presence known, but that wasn't important, that was secondary, because
He
*slam! *
Had just been made
*slam! *
Again.
*Yes! *
And this time.
*YES!*
The shaping was his own choice.
Lindsey seized the pleasure of that thought, clutched it close to his heart and felt it blossom, felt it bloom and expand, showering him in ecstasy as above him, Spike convulsed and groaned -
And very, very soon, the two were one flesh no more.
**
When Lindsey awoke, Spike was next to him, tracing the scar on his wrist.
Lindsey smiled and spoke.
"You never fucked him, did you."
The slightest pause before vampire fingers tightened around his wrist, indicating their eagerness to snap the bone.
Lindsey didn't move. He knew about the chip.
Spike relaxed his fingers and went back to tracing.
"How many of us d'you intend to use to get to him?" the vampire stated in turn. "Because it won't work y'know." Squeezing the wrist once in camaraderie. "I know. Nothing ever does."
Lindsey closed his eyes and breathed.
*Inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale... *
On the fourth breath, he felt Spike release his hand, patting him once for luck.
Lindsey got up off the floor and began to put on his clothes. Spike watched in silence, only offering as Lindsey put on his socks,
"Dru came through here a week ago. Alone." He shrugged. "I don't know where she is." A pause. "Or the psychotic bitch queen. They're under there," pointing as Lindsey looked around for his shoes.
Another short silence as Lindsey fumbled with the shoes. His fingers seemed strangely - bereft.
When he was fully dressed, he stood a while, self-consciously, clearing and re-clearing his throat.
"The chip," he offered finally. "The offer stands."
Spike smiled, lying down on the mattress with his hands under his head.
Lindsey grinned too and took a card out of his wallet. Placed it on the pillow next to the bleached blonde head. Shrugged a bit, then made as if to go.
"Lindsey?" the softly spoken words halted him.
"I don't do seduction scenes."
Lindsey smiled, and turned to face his rival one last time. "Neither does Angel." Pausing. "As you already know."
They smiled at each other in perfect understanding.
"Just checking," said Spike, lying down again.
He didn't move, not even when he heard Lindsey pause, and pick up a steel flower from the heap on the floor.
Just closed his eyes and thought of fire.
Steel fire and the shaping of flowers, flowers with poignant stems and pointed thorns, flowers that could be rammed through a lover's heart and left there, cooling, while said lover crumbled to dust.
Spike lay on his back and thought about flowers.
Then got up, put on his mask and gloves again, before picking up his torch to begin his task.
Someday, maybe soon, he'd make the perfect flower. Then take it to Los Angeles and ram it through his perfect grand sire's arse.
And head. And heart. And all the little bits in between.
*Imagine the poor sod lying bleeding, impaled on the tines of a dozen steel flowers... *
Spike smiled in wistful hope while making the first sear into a new heap of metal.
He rather thought this Lindsey would do as the first cut.
But even if not - there were other ways to make Angel bleed.
*********
Part 2. - Reprise
Cold Blue
*********
You came to me then, stinking of my grandchild's blood, smelling of his sweat and sodden with his seed. Came to me, newly cracked wide open, ashamed and defiant, the dozen showers and dabs of cologne barely masking your agitation and need. Came to me on a cold, dark night, drenched in rain, clutching your anger as a pitiful cloak, waiting for me to open the door, secure in the knowledge that I, who have taken your hand
(Twice. And not in friendship)
Would not be able to deny you entry.
And you know what?
You were right.
And wrong too, though I didn't let you see.
**
Come in little man, and let me see what has been done to you. Ahh... you've learned how to kiss. Your lips have been shaped and twisted in the rhythms that I like. Your body arches under mine the way it is supposed to, the way I want it to. And your hands - your hands clutch at mine and your hips move against me in silent, seemingly compelling rhythms...
Oh don't stop, no... I am swept away, I am indeed.
But that was a long time ago, and it never even happened...
Or if it did, I have forgotten it.
Really. I promise you.
So Lindsey, who stands here in William's place, you can consider this night to have happened between us two alone.
(I wonder if he thought he was punishing me by using you?)
**
Did he tell you, I wonder, why we vampires love to fuck? It's the blood... blood and fucking, inextricably entwined, just like us here, right now, your ass against my cock, your body bent into my bed.
(Ah, you like that? Good... open wider and let me tell you, let me tell you about your own body's desires. )
Blood concentrates lust, but it thins out feeling. It's all in the endorphins - those sweat encapsulated bits of feeling, fear and emotion that your mortal frames release in the instant of dying.
No one ever dies in love with us.
They always die wanting us.
To die, actually, but lust is lust.
My body recognizes lust in yours. Except - I equate it with dying.
You don't want to die. At least, not by my hand.
And my blood, I promise, is really not for you.
It wasn't for William either...
So if he's sent you as substitute, he's more fool than I knew.
**
Touch - you touch me, suddenly reverent, but greedy, hands all over my skin. You press your lips to my chest and trace the whorls of dusky hair, teasing it with your tongue, lapping it down.
I moan. I arch.
What else am I supposed to do?
Beautiful boy, insane man - did you really think I'd take you after him?
Surprised, you look so surprised that I can turn over, that I can present to you.
Surprised? That I can take your fingers inside me, that I can move and breathe and ask for more, politely, move urgently and then -surprise!
Take you inside me and capture you there.
You freeze. You are shocked.
You are uncertain which way to move.
And I smile. Of course I smile. Rocking slightly, showing you how.
Now I understand he didn't take you.
Not this way - this is the cruellest way. To take someone inside your body
(Your mind. Your heart? Supposedly... )
And then turn around and let them withdraw away from you.
Sometimes you must be cruel to be kind.
On the other hand. Sometimes.
You just have to be cruel.
**
You breathe - a gasp.
You move, tentative.
I'm on my back, smiling. Holding you prisoner, holding you inside me.
Now you're mine. Now that you think you know what it is to gain me.
Except you didn't.
I'm watching you, watching the two of you; watching the lessons he tried to teach you
Fail.
I taste his failure. And let me tell you, it is sweet.
**
What did he teach you to show me?
Seduction? Destruction? The pretence of love? Surrendering of innocence?
Whatever lesson it was, it does not apply. Not when I'm giving. Letting you take.
Or so you think. But I know.
You're mine now. Sealed to me.
And along with you, that beautiful boy...
How is he, by the way? Still mad? Still insane?
He twists in and out of madness in a flicker of cold blue sanity.
I had to keep him sane and alive.
Everyone else has always wanted me dead.
**
Did he tell you that there was a winter night -
(yes, just like that, no don't stop, you're fine, it's great, just hold on, yes like that)
One night we sat by a fire and talked - we were drunk I think. On two whores, maybe sisters.
We were drunk and we were happy, and as we talked, he leaned forward to kiss me on my mouth.
I remember letting him kiss me, by the firelight, because we were so happy... and the women were out stalking, and for one night there was no insane blather or megalomaniac greed.
That was one night I think he crept on my lap and we - kissed.
(yes like that)
(with your mouth open over mine and your heat pouring out to warm my lips)
(and your taste)
His taste, I remember, was apple brandy. And copper flavoured, always with the spice of blood and the hint of kill.
His hands were cold.
(Your hands are warm. They're holding my shoulders and pressing the skin.)
(You're moving. Making urgent cries. What? So soon?)
(Damn)
Just like him.
Just one kiss and it's almost the same.
**
Your head is pressed against my shoulder and you make soft, meaningless noises. I pet your head, run my fingers through your hair.
You sit up, shakily, braced on your arms. Don't - it's fine. I like your weight.
(It reminds me)
(How he sat up and licked his lips, self-consciously, eyes darting sideways, looking for possible exits to the room)
(But I didn't shove him off me. I think I kissed him back.)
(The fire sparkled in his cold blue eyes, because)
(It certainly wasn't my kiss)
You kiss me, long and passionately. Wet too... almost inexperienced. Your tongue around my lips and inside my mouth, licking
You stop and pull away, still licking your lips
As if you like the taste.
Perhaps you do.
I find it strange.
Especially when you lean into me again, and kiss me softly, your hand moving down to tease and caress my semi-hard cock.
You pull lightly, and rub
Whispering into my ear
(He never whispered to me.)
Trying to make me come.
When I do - you take your hand
And bring it to your lips.
I find myself enjoying how you seem to enjoy having me
Tell me if he did too? Is that why he sent you to me?
**
You pull me into the crook of your arm. Press a kiss to my head. Pet me.
As if I, not you, am younger, more fragile.
Whisper, "Sleep", in my ear and stroke the hair back over my forehead with the false hand.
Ah.
I understand.
You think that because I -
Oh Lindsey.
You stupid, brave boy.
There are easier ways to apologize.
I never say I'm sorry.
Especially when I'm not.
Still I find my eyes closing...
Sleep is sweet until you stir.
**
When I open one eye, I see you fumbling in the recesses of your coat. I hope you've found all your clothes. We were rather - indelicate about undressing.
You've found your coat at least. And what's in the pocket -
I open both eyes.
You hold something deadly and beautiful in your hand.
A steel flower. A lily?
A flower of death.
How melodramatic.
I try not to snort. But really.
Steel flowers?
Definitely William's work. Ah.
Ah.
I try not to wonder what your choice will be. Mine is made. That is all I need to know.
That is how it should be.
Still, I am - happier, when you replace the flower and pausing, put the coat away.
(One less choice to be made. Makes life so much simpler.)
You come back to bed and move into me again. Say, "I know you're awake," and kiss me to prove it.
I return the kiss with both my eyes closed. It doesn't matter. You intend to have your way.
But I wonder if he knew it. And sent you to me anyway.
Or if you knew and you'd intended.
Or if I changed your choice.
I don't want you to change.
(He changed. Because of me.)
(I didn't want us to change)
(And one flash of cold blue eyes when I pushed him away, back to the arms where he belonged)
(Sire and child. Always. The pair that remains strongest, in love and hate)
(What does that make us, then?)
(We make our own choices, William. Mine never included you)
"Liar"
I start, but it is you, kissing me on the eyes, demanding I open and prove myself awake.
I give in. Haven't I always?
(Coward. Liar)
(No. But it has to be this way.)
(Why?)
(Why?)
Because it is easier than living with a flower through my heart.
~ End.
***
I love it when everyone has their own agenda. Long live one-upmanship.
I told you neither part would make sense without the other.
Feedback, comments, criticisms and doubtless, questions, all welcomed at spyke_raven@yahoo.com
***
|
