They left the temple doors unlocked that night. It happened sometimes, when the priests were lazy or too drunk on wine from a celebration earlier that day. Or maybe they’d just been preoccupied and forgot, perhaps by a warm body calling from their beds. Nonetheless, it was a shadowy night. Both moons were low crescents. Ilsair hung just across the wall to the north, the slim white crescent a sign that the vampires would be advantageous in any conflict waged that night. Ardwen, the blue moon, was half full but shined only dimly high in the sky to the southeast. Lovers would be favored this night.

Neither sign boded ill or fair for Eiden as he snuck quietly through the halls of the village temple. As quietly as possible he snuck up the stone stairway, moving at a snails pace up the steps while he tried so very desperately not to make a sound. Slowly the darkness lessened as he reached the landing above. Four arched windows, one facing each direction, were set in the walls of the tower. More stairs curled up past the landing, first to the bell that would call everyone to the temple and second to the horn that was a summon to the vampires. If he was caught tonight, both would sound.

Carefully, quietly, he snuck away from the shadows. The urge to know, once and for certain, was stronger even than his fear of death. He was not a brave child, not by far, but he was pious, and the nagging thought that maybe his piety was directed towards a false god was enough to shore up what miniscule courage he had. The view to the north was both breathtaking and ominous. He was higher now than he ever had been in his life and he could see the dark forest looming around them over the tall palisades, shadows dancing across the treetops as clouds flitted across the sky.

Taking a deep breath he reached out and hesitantly touched the golden statue of the goddess Brue that stood in the middle of the room with a shaking finger. Nothing happened. The inaction made him bolder and he placed a full hand against the idol’s leg. Still nothing. There was no stirring of power inside of him, no bolts of wrath screaming from heaven to strike him down for daring to touch the figure. There was simply… nothing.

“Hey! Who goes there?”

Eiden’s blood ran cold as one of the priests stepped out onto the landing with him, the bright light of his lantern illuminating Eiden as he stood frozen in fear, his hand still touching the statue’s leg.

“How dare you!” He could see the priest’s eyes go red with fury and all of Eiden’s former courage fled him. “Heretic!” The man screamed loud, rousing the priests below and probably half the village as well. He knew he should run but his legs couldn’t move. Fear froze him in the spot as the priest marched forward and grabbed his arm. “Someone has desecrated the sacred goddess!”

Feet were pounding up the stairs and suddenly the landing was filled with priests all yelling and glaring at him angrily. Seconds later the bell tolled, and more shouting rose from the village as everyone was woken from their slumber. Eiden was drug through the temple while curses spilled around his ears. They called him a blasphemer, a heretic. They said he was unworthy of life, that the punishment they would soon bestow upon him was too kind for the likes of him, and that when the sun rose after his death he would be pulled into the fiery pits of eternal damnation.

Most of the villagers had already gathered by the time the procession reached the front gates of the temple. Giant torches stood in the corners of the courtyard, illuminating the face of the angry mob that had gathered. As he was drug down the temple steps, the crowd roared into a frenzy, shouting the vilest of obscenities at him. He saw his own parents in the front, hatred twisting their faces as they called him a betrayer. Small rocks and rotten fruit were tossed from the crowd and he had no way to dodge, the priests held him fast in their grip.

The village mayor strode forward, a length of rope in his hands and the priests drug Eiden to kneel before the mayor. His wrists were bound to an iron ring set in the ground just for this purpose and Eiden cried as he knew what was about to come. He begged and pleaded for them to release him, to forgive him for what he knew now was wrong. But in his heart he knew that even if they did forgive him, which they wouldn’t, he couldn’t go back to worshiping an empty goddess. If he looked over his shoulder he knew he would see the eyes of the golden idol staring down at him, watching his punishment with glee.

“You have defiled the sacred goddess.” A stern voice spoke clearly behind him, the high priest of the temple, and the entire crowd fell silent. “For your sins you must make amends in flesh and blood before the eyes of the goddess.” He heard the sound of leather falling to stone and he sobbed hard, his eyes squeezing tight so that he didn’t have to see the looks of glee that filled the faces around him.

The air split with a crack and Eiden screamed, fire lancing across his back as the whip cut through the thin cloth of his shirt to rend tender flesh. He didn’t have time to recover from the pain of the first before the second crack sounded and he was screaming again. The crowd went wild as he was beaten, cheering and shouting for more. Through the haze of pain he could feel blood tricking down his back and pooling around his wrists where he’d tugged so hard on the rope that it’d cut into his skin.

He lost count of how many strokes fell. When the next one didn’t come he thought they were teasing him, waiting until he relaxed a tiny bit before striking him again, but it never came. Instead hands were untying him and then pulling him to his feet. Pain, white hot like the glow of the sun, filled his back and he couldn’t stand. He didn’t have the strength to, everything hurt so badly.

“You have broken the laws of our village.” The mayor intoned, standing just a few feet in front of Eiden. “You are no longer a member of this village, or any of the other palisades. Your description will be circulated and if you come near the palisades again you will be killed on sight. May your death be as gruesome as the goddess demands.”

“No. Please.” He screamed and begged for them to let him go. He didn’t want to go outside where the vampires would find him. His cries fell on deaf ears.

The priests pulled him to the city gate, now opened the tiniest of cracks for them to chuck him through. He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring his back. Then the horn sounded just as the door slammed shut, and he heard the gate lock tight. Ignoring the pain in his back he launched himself at the gate, pounding and scratching at the gates until his hands bleed. He screamed and screamed but the door didn’t open, and so he fell to his knees before the gate, sobbing in pain and fear.

The vampires would come, he knew. The horn had called them. Even though their two peoples were technically at war they would come. They had the last time, he’d heard, over thirty years ago when the last person was exiled from the village. Maybe they knew the horn as their signal that someone had been set loose, defenseless, and would now be easy prey. Stories abounded about what the vampires did to those they captured. They used their sharp teeth to drink their victim’s blood and then they’d eat him, flesh and bone. Some said they liked to torture their victims first, that the sound of pain-filled screams was music for them. They’d heat iron and place it against his bare feet, use sharp needles to carve off his skin while he watched, they’d….

A twig snagged and Eiden froze. Trembling, he turned to look over his shoulder at the figure that stood less than ten feet away. It was too dark to make out much but he saw a too large head on the man’s shoulders. The faint light of the moon gleamed in spots off the figure’s clothes and Eiden saw the distinct glint of metal held in the figure’s hands. Behind the figure he could see more people, dozens, slipping from the forest and crossing the flat farmland towards him.

The figure took another step forward and Eiden screamed, so loud that it would have shaken ghosts from their graves and he ran. The figure jumped back and Eiden used the opportunity to bolted north as fast as he could, panic driving the pain completely from his mind. The uneven earth tried to catch his feet, to pull him down like the hands of his ancestors saying that he must die here to atone for his sins. But he darted wide of the vampires, they’d been coming from the west which left the north completely clear, and made it to the safety of the tree line. Only then did he realize that the forest wasn’t safe at all. This was where they lived. He’d run right into the vampire’s home ground.

Thorns and branches cut into his bare feet and he stumbled, unable to see in the darkness of the forest. He ran straight into a tree, impacting with a hard thud, but then arms reached to encircle him and he realized it wasn’t a tree at all but one of the vampires. He shrieked again and the vampire raised his hands to his ears instead of grasping him. Eiden ran again and he heard the vampire shout something after him in their language, probably a curse that he’d escaped them. More grasping hands came from the trees but somehow they were seconds too late as he ran desperately past. Branches whipped at him and he felt himself collect more and more bruises until it hurt just to breath, each inhale causing his back to tighten painfully.

Then all of a sudden the ground fell out beneath him and instead of running he was falling, tumbling down a rocky slope and his leg was what stopped him. There was a large rock at the bottom of the slope. He knew that because his right leg slammed into it, followed by more rocks that had been dislodged by his journey down the slope and as they smacked into his leg he heard a sickening crack. All the pain that had been pushed away by his fear hit him at once. His back, his leg, his hands, his wrists, his feet, his chest, everything blazed with pain. It took him in a wave, swallowed him under and he knew he was dead.

*****

The chief’s eyes opened wide as he took in the boy cradled in his son’s arms. Lesair knew it looked bad. There was so much blood and he knew beneath the dirt they’d find even worse bruising.

“What happened?” Chief Alistair directed them to lay the boy on a bedroll by the fire while the healers were called. Concern was evident in his eyes as he studied the poor boy.

“He tried to run from us,” Lesair answered. He couldn’t resist the urge to stroke the boy’s hair softly. Even unconscious the boy was in such obvious pain. The shriek the boy had uttered earlier that night when Lesair had approached the boy outside of the wooden gate had been so full of terror that Lesair could only guess at the fear the boy held for them. There was a bustling at the door to the lodge as the healers arrived and the warriors dispersed around the boy’s bedside. Lesair stayed, silently offering whatever aid he could provide to the healers.

A bucket of water sloshed as it was dropped beside the boy and one of the healers, Vannen, glanced at him once before pressing a damp cloth into his hand. “Help us get some of the dirt off.”

Lesair nodded and tried to clean the boy’s face off as gently as he could. The healers cut off the boy’s clothing, cleaning his front and then covering his waist with a blanket for modesty. Two of Vannen’s apprentices took a hand each while Vannen bent over the boy’s leg. Lesair winced in sympathy as the apprentices dug splinters of wood from the boy’s hands. They cleaned the cuts on his wrists with damp cloths before coating the wounds thick with salve. White bandages were rapped around his hand from fingertip to halfway down his forearm, the first layer already beginning to stain with blood.

“This is bad,” Vannen muttered. He called for splints and Lesair had to look away as one of the burlier apprentices shifted parts of the boy’s leg back in place with a sickening snap. More salve was applied, followed by a layer of bandages and then the splints to hold everything in place.

“Turn him over.” Vannen ordered quietly, and equally startled gasps rang from around the room. Twenty long slashes were visible in the boy’s skin, angry welts now covered in dirt.

“What have they done to the boy?” Alistair murmured as he watched from nearby and Lesair looked up to share a concerned glance with his father. The barbarity of this boy’s people astounded him. Lesair could only watch in sympathy as the healers cleaned and bandaged the boy’s wounds.

A tap on Lesair’s shoulder brought him back to attention and he looked up at Vannen’s carefully expressionless face. “Help me get him sitting up.” With a nod Lesair complied and he cradled the boy gently in his arms, his head resting against Lesair’s shoulder as Vannen tipped open his mouth and trickled a potion slowly down the boy’s throat.

“Here.” Lesair’s brother, Connach, knelt beside them, holding out a pair of shorts and a loose shirt. “I found something small enough that should fit him.”

Vannen nodded his thanks and Lesair averted his eyes politely as the healers slipped the clothing onto the boy. He lowered the boy carefully to the bed as the healers packed away their tools, pulling a blanket up to cover the rest of the boy’s exposed skin.

“What do you think happened?” Chief Alistair asked quietly.

Sorrow flitted across Vannen’s features. “I do not know the customs of this boy’s people to tell you why this happened, I can only tell you what his injuries show. He was tied down and beaten. You said he was clawing at the gate when you saw him, Lesair?”

He nodded. He could still remember how desperate the boy looked as he shouted strange words back at his people, most likely pleas to be let back in.

“The injuries on the hands are most likely from that. He must have been so scared and desperate to get back in.” Some of the emotion that Vannen tried so hard to keep away snuck into the words.

“We don’t have anyone in the village who speaks his language?” Lesair asked hopefully. He knew it was doubtful, only a few of those who left the palisades lived through the night and even less were willing to join with the forest people.

“No. I can send a messenger once morning comes. I think there was someone to the north who knew their tongue.” All eyes drifted back to the poor boy now in their keeping. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the morning brings.”

*****

Eiden woke with a feeling of hazy numbness. The pain was still there but it was far away, like it was hovering just outside of Eiden’s body. He opened his eyes slowly to stare at the wooden ceiling above him and he had no idea where he was. The room was too large to be anything in the village, but he’d been thrown out of the village so why was he back? Had someone pleaded his case to the mayor?

Strange voices sounded from his left and he turned his head slowly to stare at the people sitting around the fire towards the middle of the massive room. They seemed like fairly normal people though their manner of dress was a little strange. More color and decoration than anything he’d seen in the village. The language they spoke was unknown to him but it had a certain familiar ring to it, like he’d heard it somewhere before. He tried to think of the foreigners that had visited their village a long time ago but none matched the people he saw here.

One of the men noticed he was awake and turned to glance at Eiden. The man was handsome, Eiden noted. He was tall with muscles evident on his bare chest, and dark skin similar to the light brown of the trees that formed the palisade around Eiden’s village. His hair was light like the sparkle of sun on gold and long, something that would have been considered unmanly in Eiden’s home village but it seemed to fit this strange man. The man made a gesture to his fellows and said something to his fellows that made the room grow still.

Eiden’s eyes widened, not from the words the man spoke for he couldn’t understand them, but from the way the firelight glinted off the two sharp fangs set in the man’s mouth. A scream pushed from his mouth as he realized what these people were and he pushed himself away. One of his legs wasn’t responding, he couldn’t move it, so he pushed as best he could with his hands and his one working leg until he hit a wooden wall behind him. Alarmed looks crossed the men’s faces and they all stood, there were five of them in total, and approached him, reaching for him. Eiden kept pushing away until he reached a corner and he huddled there, scared to death as the vampire reached for him.

The man who’d noticed him first was the closest and he stopped about three feet away from Eiden and crouched down, reaching a hand out towards him. Eiden shied away, curling in on himself as he started to cry.

“Please don’t eat me,” he begged, not that he expected his words to have any effect on the heartless vampires. They probably couldn’t understand him anyways. “Please don’t eat me.” The words became an endless chant, muffled by his tears, and they seemed to work because the men shied away. He was cold, this far from the fire, and he hurt. The pain that had been floating outside of him seemed to have come back with his movement and he hurt so badly that it caused more tears.

The men said something and then slowly moved away, leaving Eiden crying in his corner.

*****

Lesair looked over at the poor boy huddled in the corner and he couldn’t stop the sympathy that washed over him. The boy was so scared. He’d freaked out when he’d seen them, scrambled to the corner even though his wounds were probably paining him severely. The look on the boy’s face had been so stricken when they’d approached to try and coax the boy back to bed, like a rabbit caught in a trap with eyes so wide that it looked like the boy’s heart would explode if they took one step closer.

That had been what caused Lesair to back off, afraid of doing more damage to the boy though he couldn’t help but glance guiltily over at the boy every few minutes. It couldn’t be good for him to sit like that with his injuries. He should be lying down. Lesair had tried leaving a blanket near him and some food, getting as close as the boy would let him before he started crying again and mumbling that same phrase over and over again. But the boy had made no move to touch either, he seemed almost afraid of the food. In fact, his babbling had grown to a near frantic pitch when Lesair had left it near him.

So Lesair had relegated himself to the far side of the fire, where he could watch but not disturb. It seemed that the black haired boy had fallen asleep finally because his crying had finally quieted. The boy was strange to look at. Far too thin for his own good and pale, like he didn’t see the sun much. They’d found no jewelry or personal items on him, nor had he even been wearing shoes. He wondered if the people of the palisade had thrown the boy out without them or if the boy had never owned a pair to begin with.

“What’s going on here?” Lesair couldn’t hide the guilty flinch as Vannen walked in, the healer’s eyes dark with anger.

“He won’t let us come near him, Vannen. He’s too scared of us.”

Vannen looked between the men circled around the fire and the boy huddled in the corner. “Well, he’s going to have to let us touch him. I need to change his bandages.” He gestured to the two apprentices who’d followed him in to drop their bags. “Lesair, Bedwin, and Connach, you three can help hold him down while we work.”

Lesair didn’t feel very well about the idea but he stood and followed Vannen anyways. The boy seemed to start awake at their approach and he looked up at them with fearful eyes. Vannen was the first to reach forward and the boy screamed so loud Lesair wanted to clap his hands over his ears. He heard people outside rushing to the door but Lesair’s father kept them away. The boy started crying again, huge sobs that wracked his tiny frame as he said that familiar phrase over and over again in a pleading tone. Lesair’s brothers held his arms as Vannen drug the boy away from the wall and he struggled against their hold, desperately trying to get away.

They moved the boy over to his bedroll and Lesair sat first, cradling the boy upright against his chest so that each of Vannen’s apprentices could work on an arm. Lesair’s oldest brother, Bedwin, held one of the boy’s legs down while Vannen carefully stripped away the bandages on his injured leg.

“Will someone stop his crying,” Vannen said, annoyance clear in his voice.

Lesair covered the boy’s mouth with his hand but that only seemed to make the boy cry harder, though at least his screams were muffled now. He remembered what his mother would do when Lesair was hurt and the song she used to sing to him. It was worth trying, he thought, and so he started quietly, crooning the song into the boy’s ear. The others looked at him strangely but after a few minutes it worked and the boy was no longer screaming against Lesair’s hand.

He felt the boy flinch as the salve was wiped off his hands. Loosening his hold around the boy’s chest, he let his hand stroke idly against the boy’s side. Slowly the boy relaxed into his touch and Lesair could feel the resistance draining away. Whether it was just tired acceptance or actual trust Lesair couldn’t tell but it made the work easier as Lesair’s brothers fell away so that it was only him and the healers hovering around the boy.

“I need to turn him over to check his back.” Vannen said quietly. His eyes studied Lesair a little strangely, but he didn’t put much thought into contemplating what that look meant. “Do you think you can keep doing that?”

Lesair nodded, still singing the same low song, now on his third repetition. The boy seemed about to fight them as they turned him to lie against the blankets but Lesair calmly stroked the boy’s hair and that seemed to settle him down. He was still tense when Vannen lifted his shirt and he flinched when the same started to unwrap the bandages around his chest but he didn’t scream anymore when Lesair pulled his hand away from the boy’s mouth. He did whisper that phrase again but he let Vannen’s apprentices hold his arms to his sides.

Slowly, the boy turned his head to look up at Lesair and he smiled softly. The boy seemed to about to tense again so Lesair let the hand that had been covering the boy’s mouth stroke over his shoulder, rubbing soothing patterns lightly in the boy’s skin. The boy was staring at his mouth he realized and that brought an idea to Lesair’s mind.

“He’s afraid of our fangs.” He said softly between verses of the song.

Vannen looked up slightly from his work and nodded. “Makes sense. His people don’t have them so I suppose they’d look frightening. I can just imagine the kind of stories his people tell about us. Probably make us sound like some blood-thirsty cannibals.”

Lesair didn’t respond, he just continued singing softly and stroking the tension out of the poor boy.

“Has he eaten anything?” Vannen asked quietly as he tied the last bandage on the boy’s back and lowered his shirt.

“Do you think you can keep signing while we try to get some food in him?”

Lesair nodded and they shifted the boy into an upright position against Lesair’s chest again. The boy looked up at him curiously but didn’t seem about to start crying again. Vannen ordered his apprentices to bring some food while he fished a potion out of one of his packs. The boy did panic then, when Vannen brought the potion towards the boy’s lips and it was all Lesair could do to keep the boy in his arms until Vannen backed away. He started crying again and Vannen looked annoyed, like he was about to try forcing the liquid down the boy’s throat.

“Here.” Lesair held out one hand for the bottle. “Let me try.”

“Go right ahead.” Vannen handed over the potion with an exasperated glance.

Lightly, Lesair tapped the boy once on the cheek to get the boy to look up at him. Scared brown eyes turned hesitantly towards him and Lesair lifted the bottle to his own mouth to take a small sip. “See, it’s alright,” he said softly. He offered the bottle to the boy but he shut his mouth tight and shook his head, that same terrified look crossing his face again. Lesair took another small drink. “It’s alright. It’s not going to hurt you.”

The soft tones seemed to work more than the words and the boy reluctantly opened his mouth to take in a tiny bit of the potion. Lesair let him try the small sip, watched as the boy seemed to wait for something before he’d let Lesair feed him any more of the potion. Nothing seemed to happen and then a confused look crossed the boy’s face, but he drank a bit more.

“He acts like we’re trying to poison him,” Vannen snorted.

“He probably thinks we are.” Lesair looked up with a serious gaze. Vannen considered that for a moment and then shook his head.

“I will never understand those idiots if I live a thousand lifetimes.”

When the food arrived, Lesair tried the same trick. It only took one spoonful before the boy was willing to try the soup, though he steadfastly refused to eat any bit of meat. Lesair’s brothers were watching from the side and they seemed equally as confused as Lesair was.

“Maybe he’s a vegetarian,” Connach guessed, and that seemed as good of an explanation as he could think of.

Lesair shrugged and kept feeding the boy spoonfuls of soup until the boy would open his mouth no more. It took him a moment to realize the boy wasn’t being stubborn. Instead he’d fallen asleep in Lesair’s arms. With a smile he disentangled himself and tucked the boy into bed. His brothers simply grinned but didn’t comment as the smile lingered long into the night.

*****

“Come with me.” Lesair held out his hand to the injured boy. “Come on,” he coaxed gently.

The past few days had been interesting. Slowly it seemed that the boy was getting used to their presence. He still seemed scared but not quite as much as the first day, and he didn’t try to shy away from them anymore. Lesair was the only one that the boy allowed to touch him but at least he ate and he appeared to be sleeping alright. Vannen’s potions were taking effect as well. The boy’s hands no longer needed bandaging. They were still marked but it appeared they wouldn’t scar too badly, if at all. His wrists were still fairly bad, his back worse, but those would mend in time as well. At least he seemed to be moving alright.

Hesitantly the boy took Lesair’s hand and he helped the boy to his feet. The boy regarded him curiously as Lesair positioned a crutch under the boy’s arm and he smiled back, trying to convey reassurance as best he could. Vannen had said it would be good for the boy to walk around on his own a bit and so Lesair had volunteered to walk him to the fire pit that night. He thought maybe some fresh air and the happy revelry that always seemed to surround the cooking fires would do the boy some good.

With one arm securely around the boy’s waist for balance, he led the boy out into the streets of their village. The night was dark but clear. Neither moon was high enough to provide much illumination but the bright torches scattered around the village gave him more than enough light to see by. But then his people had always been good at seeing in the dark so it was more the boy that he was concerned about.

Wide brown eyes regarded the village with wonder. He knew the boy probably couldn’t see much but it seemed to impress him nonetheless. There were little decorations scattered all around the streets and on the wooden buildings. There’d be more if they went towards the small sanctuary on the east end of the village. Maybe they’d stop by later in the evening. It was one of Lesair’s favorite parts of the village. The stones were so beautiful, more so in the light when the sun would catch the many colors of gems set in the rocks. Turning to look at the boy in his arms he realized that everything must be so different from the world he was used to. Lesair wondered how he’d fare, separated from his people in a strange land. He’d probably turn out to be just as frightened as the boy.

He guided them towards the center of the village, going slowly so as to not push the boy. He seemed to be walking alright and if Lesair looked close enough he was sure he could make out a tiny smile curving on the boy’s lips. Not for the first time he wondered what those lips would feel like under his own and he looked away quickly, a faint blush staining his cheeks. He knew how strange his attraction to the boy was but he couldn’t help it. The boy was so pitiful sometimes and Lesair just wanted to hold him, as he had done before and make all the boy’s hurts go away.

The smell of fresh meat cooking drifted to his nose and he smiled widely, fangs peaking out from between his lips. “Smells good, doesn’t it?” He knew the boy wouldn’t understand it but he’d taken to talking to him nonetheless, more hoping that his voice would begin to sound familiar and calming.

As they rounded the last of the buildings between them and the fire pit, the sound of the revelry overtook them. A good number of the villagers were dancing about the fire. Someone had dug up a set of pipes and a drum from somewhere and they were playing a jaunty tune, Pure Maid’s Folly if Lesair remembered correctly. The boy’s eyes widened as he took in the sight and he seemed to focus in on the deer turning on the large metal spits set over the fire. All of a sudden the boy went mad, screaming and babbling that familiar phrase in his native tongue. He tried to run from them and suddenly they were the focus of attention. The revelry died instantly as the boy fought Lesair’s hold. Lesair tried petting him and whispering words of reassurance but the boy kept crying and looking over his shoulder at the large spits with an expression of abject horror.

“What happened?” His brothers were suddenly beside him, as well as a good number of other concerned villagers.

“I don’t know,” Lesair admitted. “We were just walking. No one touched him.”

The boy continued babbling, shaking like a young sapling in a windstorm in Lesair’s arms. He looked up at Lesair, his hands gripping Lesair’s shirt tight, and pleaded with tear-filled eyes.

“I think he actually thinks we’re going to eat him,” Lesair said in shock as he followed the boy’s gaze back to the roasting meat.

“That’s horrific!” Connach exclaimed. Similar sentiments echoed through the crowd. Each face had the same horrified expression. All sound died except for the boy’s hysterical sobbing.

Lesair moved the boy away slowly. “I’m going to take him towards the outskirts, see if I can get him to calm down.” Wishes of good luck followed him as he guided the boy away and he couldn’t help but notice some of the pitying looks the villagers shot towards the boy.

Connach followed him at a slow pace, carrying the boy’s crutch until they got a bit away and the boy seemed inclined to take it again. Lesair held the boy close and crooned softly, the same old lullaby he’d learned from his mother, until the boy stopped crying. He seemed to calm down a bit as they reached the area surrounding the sanctuary but he didn’t look around at the decorations in wonder as he had before. He only glance up once as Lesair guided him through the stone gate that stood at one end of the small sanctuary courtyard, and the boy’s gaze fixed instantly on the moss-covered cairn set in the middle of the courtyard.

The boy froze, his gaze intent on the cairn. Slowly he shifted away from Lesair’s grasp until he was walking forward, towards the stones.

“What…”

Lesair held an arm out to stop Connach from moving. This was the first time the boy had shown something other than fear and he wanted to let things play out. The boy hobbled closer to the cairn and his expression seemed enraptured as far as Lesair could tell. About three steps before the cairn the boy lost his footing and he fell. No sound of protest or pain escaped his lips. In fact it didn’t seem as if he’d noticed the fall at all, he just drug himself closer slowly until he could reach out with both hands to touch the moss and stones.

A green light sparkled beneath the moss, seeming ignited by the boy’s touch. Ancient words flared to life on the stones as the light seeped down the cairn to swirl in spiral patterns over the carvings inlaid in the courtyard, somehow following the channels etched in the stone until the light reached the large rocks that circled the outer rim of the courtyard. There the light crept up in the same strange fashion, illuminating more ancient script on the old stones. When the light reached the top of the final pillar there was a flash, bright as daylight, and lime green light shot from the cairn in the center straight up in the sky for an endless distance.

“What’s happening?” Connach shouted for it seemed like something was ringing in their ears, drowning out the cries of the villagers coming to investigate.

They both fell back to the edge of the courtyard and stared in wonder at the giant pillar. Never in his life had he seen such a strange light and he wondered now if maybe the spirits that watched over them had had some purpose in guiding this boy to them.

As suddenly as it had appeared the light vanished, gone in the space of a blink of his eye to leave the courtyard in dark shadow. It took a moment for his night vision to refocus and when it did he saw the boy lying crumpled before the cairn. In a flash Lesair was beside him, turning the boy over and searching for some sign of a wound.

“Gods, let him be alright.” He prayed silently before turning to the scan the faces of the crowd.

“Vannen,” he called, and an instant later the gruff healer was pushing his way forward. He took the boy in hand, touching first his neck, then his wrist before relaxing slightly and patting Lesair on the shoulder.

“He’s fine, boy, just asleep. Take him back to the lodge and let him get some rest.”

With a nod Lesair gladly complied. Around him he heard the villagers questioning and he left Connach to answer them. He had other things to worry about.

*****

Eiden felt apprehension fill his heart as he slowly woke. His head pounded in pain but he pushed it away as he tried to figure out what happened to him. He’d done something… What? Oh goddess, his mind screamed at him. He’d touched it. He’d touched their sacred stone. It had to be sacred. He’d felt the power and there were the designs, the decorations. It was just like the golden statue of Brue. His curiosity had taken a hold of him and he’d defiled something sacred.

Slowly the tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t have helped it. The feeling had just come over him and it was like his body had moved on its own. He could barely remember what happened, except he knew there had been a light, a bright green light, and there were the voices too. Strange voices that had spoken in a language he couldn’t understand, telling him things that were important if only he knew what they were saying.

A voice sounded near him and Eiden opened his eyes to see the light-haired man kneeling next to him, an expression of concern on his face. Memories of the night he’d been exiled flooded back to him and Eiden screamed. The man jumped back, far enough that Eiden could scoot away to the corner that had sheltered him before. He huddled there now as the tears streamed forth and he cursed his own folly. They’d eat him now, he was sure of it. They were going to last night, when they’d taken Eiden to see those giant metal spikes and the carcass roasting across them but something had changed their minds. Or maybe they had simply wanted to play with him more, but now he was dead for sure for violating their sacred stone. Maybe they’d beat him first, like the temple priests had, or do worse. Visions of the many tortures they could inflict on him filled his head and he cried harder, shaking in terror as he waited for them to dragged him away to his punishment.

*****

Aedoch watched the commotion around the chieftain’s lodge with a bit of curiosity as he approached. His guide had said the boy from the palisades would be staying with the chief and his family. He heard crying then and hurried his steps. The boy would no doubt be terrified. The stories told in the palisades said all sorts of horrible things about the forest people, though Aedoch was guilty of believing them himself when he’d first come here.

The crowd parted to let him in, a few familiar faces nodding a greeting. The sight that met his eyes inside was nothing but astounding. A small boy, pale with dark hair, was huddled in a far corner of the lodge in obvious hysterics and one of the chief’s sons, Lesair if he remembered correctly, was kneeling nearby trying to calm the boy down. Not that the words had any effect for the boy seemed to continue crying heedlessly.

Aedoch approached quietly, giving Lesair’s shoulder a squeeze once in reassurance as he knelt near the boy.

“Hello, little one,” he said in a tongue he hadn’t used it over ten years.

The boy stopped crying instantly and stared at Aedoch in a mix between fear and curiosity.

“Would you tell me your name, little one?” Aedoch kept his tone as soft as possible, hoping to coax the boy into trusting him.

The boy didn’t answer so he tried a different approach.

“Why are you crying?”

“They’re going to eat me,” the boy sniffled. Aedoch raised an eyebrow at the words. So they’d changed the stories since Aedoch had lived in the palisades over three decades ago.

“What makes you think that, little one?”

The boy glanced over at where Lesair was crouched. “Because they’re vampires. They’re going to eat me because I… I…” The boy broke into sobs again and Aedoch quickly made shushing sounds, hoping to get the boy to talk to him again.

“It’s alright, little one. They’re not going to eat you. The forest people are a peaceful folk. They won’t cause you any harm.”

“But I…” The boy seemed intent on protesting between hiccupped sobs. “They…”

“They took care of your wounds, didn’t they?” Aedoch gestured at the bandages visible around the boy’s leg.

That quieted the boy some as he puzzled through that logic. “But I touched the stone. They’re mad at me so they’re going to eat me.”

The boy broke into more sobs and Aedoch sighed, turning to speak to Lesair for a moment. “What stone is he talking about?”

Lesair looked at him curiously for a moment. “Stone? Oh! He means the cairn. The boy touched the cairn in the sanctuary last night and it shone with this strange light. Surely you saw the green pillar on your journey.”

Aedoch nodded. “That was part of the reason why I got here so fast.” He turned back to the boy. “Hush, little one. They aren’t mad at you. Why would you think they would punish you just for touching the stones?”

The boy sniffled and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“I touched the golden statue in my village.” The boy admitted quietly. “They beat me and then threw me out so the vampire could eat me.” More crying seemed on its way so Aedoch spoke quickly.

“The forest people aren’t like that. They have no such strict laws. In fact they think it’s a rather remarkable thing you’ve done. They aren’t going to kill you.”

Almost hesitantly the boy uncurled slightly. “They aren’t?”

“No,” Aedoch shook his head fiercely. “You’re safe here.”

The boy seemed on the verge of believing him. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Aedoch breathed a sigh of relief as the boy finally stopped crying and relaxed. “Now why don’t you let Lesair help you out of there and we can talk more by the fire.”

“Lesair?” The boy asked quietly. Aedoch could barely contain the grin as Lesair perked up instantly as soon as the boy said his name and he looked between Aedoch and the boy with barely contained curiosity.

“Yes, that’s the blonde man next to me. He’s quite smitten with you.”

The boy blushed but he reached a hand out to Lesair that was gladly taken. The young man picked up the boy and carried him over to the fire. Instead of letting the boy go like Aedoch thought he would, Lesair sat with the boy cradled in his lap and Aedoch fought to contain another smile.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“Eiden.”

“Eiden.” He repeated once and then turned to the gathered forest people. “The boy’s name is Eiden.”

Lesair tried the name out and it rolled off his tongue like a lover’s caress. Not surprising considering how obviously smitten the young man was. A wicked idea formed in Aedoch’s mind and he spoke once more in his and the boy’s native tongue.

“Do you know what would make Lesair quite happy, little one?”

Eiden shook his head innocently.

“If you were to give him a small peck on the cheek.”

“He’d like that?” The boy flushed an amusing crimson but seemed to be actually considering the suggestion.

“Quite.” Aedoch affirmed. “He’s madly in love with you, you know.”

“Oh.” The boy turned to look up at Lesair in quiet study. Just as Lesair turned to look down at him Eiden leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Cheers broke out around the fire and Aedoch smiled widely at the flush that spread across Lesair’s face.

“What did you say to him?” Lesair asked accusingly.

“I told him it’d make you happy if he kissed you,” Aedoch admitted.

Lesair blushed furiously, steadfastly ignoring his brothers’ teasing as he shyly asked Aedoch a question. “Can you ask him what would make him happy?”

Aedoch translated.

The boy looked curious but unembarrassed as he answered. “Another kiss.”

Aedoch’s grin almost broke his face as he translated and Lesair leaned down to cover Eiden’s mouth with his. The two boys would probably have continued to kiss, completely ignorant of the world around them if the chief hadn’t arrived then to loudly wish the boys luck in their relationship. They broke apart, each looking similarly reluctant and Aedoch sat back to translate the boy’s tale with a wide grin on his face.

“Thanks for the ride.” Ronny shut the door carefully behind him as he got out of the car. He glanced back over his shoulder for a long moment, staring at the roof of the car while his mind toyed with a thought. An absurd thought, but a thought nonetheless. What the hell, he only lived once, right? Turning, he leaned on the doorframe and smiled at Gerry through the open window.

“Do you want to come in?” It was a long shot, he knew, but he couldn’t help but try.

Gerry gave him one of ‘those looks’. Really, he should be used to them by now but it still kind of hurt when he paused to think about it for more than a second. It was the same look he got from everyone on the team, anytime he so much as mentioned someone coming over to his apartment, so full of disgust, fear, revulsion, and guilt all rolled into one that it made his stomach churn every time he met that look face on. Never crossed their minds that hey, maybe he was a bit lonely living all by himself in a strange town and that maybe all he was interested in was some friendly, one-hundred percent platonic, companionship. All they saw was that he was gay and maybe coming into his room would make them gay too.

“Sure.”

“Huh?” His ears must be playing tricks on him because could have sworn he just heard Gerry Burtier say yes.

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have anywhere to go right now so I guess it’d be alright to hang out for a bit.” Gerry looked at him funny. “You alright there, Sunshine?”

He realized his mouth was hanging open and slowly recovered enough wits to shut his jaw and stand up straight. “Yeah, I’m fine just… thanks.” Gerry probably had no idea what Ronny was thanking him for but he meant it.

The car door opened and shut, and then Gerry was gesturing for him to lead the way. He smiled, probably the closest thing that he’d managed to a one of his patented radiant Sunshine smiles in close to two weeks. Gerry smile back and followed him up the creaky wooden steps to the second floor landing. Third door down was his. Digging out he keys he had the door open in a snap, flicking on the lights as he walked into the sparsely furnished apartment.

Gerry entered slowly, his eyes roving over the large combo room they stood in. The little kitchenette section was in a corner to the right, all white and sterile and pristine. Right next to that in the opposite corner of the same wall was what Ronny though of as his dining room, nothing more than a decent sized table and four chairs really. Not that anyone other than his dad had ever been in here to use it. The rest of the room was fairly empty. Just an old, battered but still comfortable couch, a low table in front of it, and a TV in a wooden cabinet against the left wall. An open doorway across from them gave a glimpse of a low bookshelf and a rumpled bed, with a small bathroom set off of that room.

Tossing his backpack by the couch Ronny casually shut the bedroom door on his way around to the kitchenette, suddenly feeling a little subconscious about the disaster that was his bedroom floor.

“You want anything to drink?” Ronny tossed over his shoulder as he stuck his head into his refrigerator.

“Yeah, thanks. Anything’s fine.” He heard Gerry moving around over near the couch. “Mind if I turn on the TV?”

“No problem, go for it.” Rummaging through the refrigerator he tried to find something a bit more normal than the blended teas and juices he kept stocked in there. Ah! There in the back were two brown bottles of root beer. “Root beer alright?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” The TV flicked on, sound flaring and dying intermittently as Gerry flipped through the channels.

Pulling the bottles out, he popped the caps, flipping the little metal lids into the garbage pail before joining Gerry on the couch. He was careful to keep his distance, handing one of the bottles over and then retreating to the opposite end of the couch. They both stared at the TV. Gerry’d found a baseball game on but neither of them seemed really attentive to what was going on. Ronny kind of half stared at the TV but really his attention was more focused on the bottle in his hand.

“You always lived alone?”

“Huh?” Ronny belatedly realized he’d been asked a question and then shook his head. He was doing real good today on the attentiveness factor, just full of witty replies. “Just in California and here. Lived with my mom a bit before that.”

“What was before California?” Gerry sounded confused and Ronny guessed to a man who’d lived his whole life in one town what he’d said would have been a little weird.

“New Jersey and Nevada and Washington and… well, a couple of others.” He shrugged, not feeling like listing all the states off.

“Shit. You really moved around that much?” The way Gerry stared at him, eyes and mouth both open wide made him chuckle a little.

“Yeah. I’ve lived in twelve different states so far.” He tried to sound casual about it but maybe a little bit of boasting crept in. It was nothing really to boast about but the way it made Gerry’s eyes go wide as saucers was way too amusing.

“How can you stand that? I couldn’t think about just up and leaving all my friends like that. You had to move what? A little over once a year?”

He shrugged again nonchalantly. “It varies. California was the longest, been there three years, not consecutively. Before we moved here I’d been there for almost two years straight.”

“Don’t you miss your friends?” The way Gerry looked at him was a bit hard to take so he turned away under the pretense of scratching the back of his head and taking a drink.

“Not really. I never really made any friends over there.” It was a little hard to say that out loud but something was pushing him towards honesty. Somehow, without him noticing, this afternoon had turned into a ‘bare you soul, bleeding open heart’ kind of thing.

“What? Why not? Seems like there’d be more people like you over there…” Ronny winced and saw a look flash through Gerry’s eyes before he looked over sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He knew what Gerry meant, though, and it didn’t really bother him. It was another one of those things you got used to being the only gay man in a fifty mile radius. “It’s okay.” He ignored the blunder and went back to answer Gerry’s original question. “I don’t know. It’s just a habit I guess. Got so used to getting up and moving that I stopped trying. I mean sure, I was still friendly and all but never really connected with anyone.”

“You have friends here.” The words caused Ronny to look up in surprise and he saw genuine honesty in Gerry’s face. He meant it.

Ronny smiled again, his face melting into one of those radiant smiles of his and he beamed, just like sunshine. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Conversation lolled and they both went back to watching the television-but-not. Ronny toyed with his bottle, twisting it around in his hands like he was turning Gerry’s words around in his head. He had friends. It was a nice thought. He knew he kind of liked some of the guys, in the friend-only way. Well, a few of them in the bit more than friendly way but that was never going to happen so he didn’t really give those thoughts more than one night’s wet-dream before he pushed them away as absurd. But knowing they though of him as a friend as well… That was cool. Well, that was more than cool, it was fantastic and a little corner of his mind was doing back flips at the thought until he told it firmly to stop being such a queer and act like a man for a change. Not that it listened to him, but it helped him keep his composure somewhat instead of breaking out into a stupid sappy grin.

“What’s it like?”

Ronny snapped out of his thoughts to look over at Gerry in confusion. “What’s what like?” He really hoped he hadn’t just blanked out on a conversation ’cause that would so look bad.

“What’s it like being… you know…”

Oh. For a brief moment he thought about playing with Gerry’s mind, forcing him to say the one word everyone in this town danced around and refused to say. Instead he gave in, took pity on the man, and answered his question honestly. “I can’t really give you a comparison. I’ve always been gay.”

“Always?” Gerry looked positively shocked.

“Well kind of. I mean, it’s one of those things where you’re kind of just born that way.” He had to chuckle a little at the look on Gerry’s face, probably at the thought of little gay babies running around touching other babies. “I didn’t always know I was gay, though. Not ’til I was around 15.”

There was a sort of morbid fascination etched on Gerry’s face and Ronny could see the nerves he was ridding on just to get the questions out. That’s probably why he was taking it so easy on the man. He could tell how much it was costing the man just to say those few words and he didn’t want to jinx it. After all, curiosity had lead to some good things for Ronny. “How’d you find out?”

“I had a girlfriend.” Oddly enough, Ronny didn’t think he’d ever told this story to anyone before. Everyone in California had just kind of assumed and before then, well… there hadn’t really been much before then in the way of friendship or experimentation. “She was nice and all. A real beauty too. Most guys would have killed for a chance to go out with her. And I thought that way too, at first, because, well, that’s the way they tell you you’re supposed to go so I did.”

“What happened?”

Ronny looked off at the far wall as he searched for the right words. “It was… weird, I guess.”

“Weird?” There was a strange hitch in Gerry’s voice and Ronny had a feeling that maybe Gerry knew a bit about what Ronny was talking about from personal experience. Or maybe it was just Ronny’s mind being cruel and taunting him with fantasies about one of his crushes turning gay in his living room.

“Yeah, weird.” He used the words to distract himself before his mind got too far in its imaginings and he focused his attention on the past instead of the present. “A little wrong, I guess you could say. We’d kiss and it just wouldn’t feel right. And there was the other thing. That, um… didn’t go well.” He coughed slightly, not out of embarrassment so much as the lingering discomfort the memories brought back.

“So you didn’t?”

“No, I did.” The girl hadn’t been too thrilled with his performance afterwards but they’d at least made it all the way through. “But it was odd. Kinda like walking through a door backwards, that feeling that things were completely opposite the way they were supposed to be.”

Gerry went quiet for a long moment and Ronny almost though he was done until one more tentative question filled the air. “So how’d you find out you were gay?”

“I got curious,” he said with a shrug. “I asked a boy I knew in California and he… showed me things. Turned out that way was right.”

“You mean you just…” Gerry gestured wildly in the air, his face red with shock.

“No. We just kissed, the first time. It went to more later on, but starting out, all it was was kissing.”

“Oh. Was it any different than being with a girl?”

“Depends on which side you’re on?”

That earned him a confused stare and he laughed outright. “There’s two roles, kind of, that you can do. Top or bottom. One’s kinda like being with a girl ‘cept it’s a different part you’re fondling to get the other off. The other way’s nothing like women but so much better. At least in my opinion it is.”

“I don’t get it.”

Ronny smiled, more than just a little confused at how his friend didn’t look and see the possible angles. “There’s still a hole you can put it in.”

“Oh.” And then Gerry got this strange embarrassed/contemplative look that seemed to turn his entire expression inward until Ronny wasn’t half-sure Gerry even remembered he was there.

Well, this had been a rather strange day so might as well go for broke at pushing his luck. “Do you want to try?” He couldn’t believe he’d said that almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

Apparently Gerry couldn’t believe it either ’cause he snapped out of his thoughts and stared at Ronny like he’d sprouted five more heads and one of them was doing a tap dance. “What?”

He weighed his options, pros versus cons. The way he figured it, he’d already kind of kissed Gerry once so they both knew there was an attraction. The worst that would happen was that Gerry would deck him without the other players to hold him back, though really he wasn’t kissing him just offering and Gerry had been cool with the first kiss later, after camp was over.

“Do you want to try kissing me?”

There. He said it. It was in the air, out in the open, nothing he could do about it anymore.

“I’m not gay!” The protest was only half-hearted and that gave Ronny a bit of hope.

“But you think you might be.”

“What? How?” Ronny just stared calmly as Gerry spluttered, still not moving from his end of the couch. He viewed that as a good sign.

He tried again, slowly. “You’re curious. I’m offering a way to figure it out. One kiss. If there’s nothing, hey, you’re straight. If not, well… that’s not so bad either, really. No one has to know. I’m certainly not going to go blabbing and I know you won’t, so what’s the problem?”

“But I… you…” Gerry tried to find an excuse, desperately looking for anything, and he failed. “Fine.”

For the second time that night, Ronny really thought he was hearing things.

“You stay there.”

Apparently he wasn’t because Gerry was suddenly shifting closer, timidly, and Ronny didn’t think he could move if he tried. Gerry stared at him for a long time, their faces close but not too close until suddenly Gerry’s face twisted and then he was there, kissing. It was light and tentative at first, barely there, but then Gerry pressed just a bit closer and Ronny opened his mouth just slightly, half expecting Gerry not to know what to do. He was pleasantly surprised by the tongue that slipped in, probing cautiously and tasting, and he really had to work at not pressing up into that touch. His hands found the cushions of the couch beside him and he clutched at them tightly as he tried to swallow down a low moan. He really hadn’t expected Gerry to be that good. Then a moan did escape and Gerry jerked them apart like he’d been burnt.

They stared at each other, less than a foot between them on the couch but it seemed so greater and Ronny had the feeling if he reached out Gerry would bolt and he’d never see the man again. Thankfully he seemed plastered to the back of the couch, his head supported by the back of the couch as he panted for breath. Oh yeah, he’d forgotten about that whole needing to breathe thing. Having a guy’s tongue down your throat kind of did that. He licked his lips once, saw how hungrily Gerry’s eyes followed his tongue and did it again just to be a tease.

“You like that?” Gerry seemed half-shocked that Ronny’d like the kiss. The man obviously thought very little of his own skills.

“Yeah, I did. Question is, did you?” That was the big thing here. Ronny knew he was gay. No surprise to him that guys made him hard.

Gerry seemed to give it some serious thought, though his eyes never strayed far from Ronny’s still parted lips. A couple minutes later, he had the answer.

“I did.” For being a supposedly straight man in a rigidly straight, backwater community, Gerry was taking the news surprisingly well.

He waited a moment, bating his breath and then offered. “You wanna do it again?”

Shock and want battled across Gerry’s face and after a minute of no answer he took the decision out of the man’s hands. He crawled over slowly, arms coming up to rest around broad shoulders as he straddled Gerry’s lap. With a smile at the dumbstruck look on Gerry’s face, Ronny kissed him firmly, using his lips to promise exactly what would happen if Gerry ever wanted to do anything more.

Apparently the idea went over well because he could feel Gerry’s pants getting tighter beneath him. Gerry gave a little resistance to the kiss, a mere momentary delay before he surrendered to emotion and kissed back, fiercely and passionately and this time Ronny didn’t hold back the moans that those kisses urged from him. Two hands wavered near his sides as if unsure where to settle so he again took the option away and placed them firmly on his backside. They froze there for a second, unsure and then they were pressing him in tight and Ronny pressed down into them. The movement brought two clothed groins together and he had to break the kiss to gasp for air as strong hands flexed over his ass. Gerry didn’t seem quite sure what to do when Ronny let his head roll back and moaned, so he figured he’d take it easy on the man.

With mischief in his eyes, he captured Gerry’s gaze and held it while he slipped a hand between them to the button of Gerry’s fly. Just as his fingers closed on the prize a look of panic swept across Gerry’s face and he grabbed Ronny’s wrist tightly.

“Don’t.” There was warning implicit in the tone, but also, buried in the back, a strong thread of need and want.

“Shh,” he breathed slowly as he leaned down to flutter light kisses across Gerry’s cheek before moving down to nuzzle and suck at the exposed bit of neck. “It’s alright.” He whispered the words into pale flesh and Gerry’s hold relaxed enough for Ronny to slip his hand free. As his hands slowly worked open the fly of Gerry’s pants he let his eyes lock with Gerry’s, holding him with his gaze. “It’s just like a girl,” he promised with both eyes and words.

Sliding back, he slipped off the couch to kneel on the floor between Gerry’s knees. Gerry watched him, disbelief and wonder tattooed across his face as Ronny slowly slipped Gerry’s erection free of his pants. Ronny looked up once, meeting confused eyes with a look of promise and then he focused on his target. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth to blow hotly across the head and he could feel Gerry shudder even as Ronny tentatively began stroking the erection before him very lightly. He followed a warm hand with a tongue and heard the change in Gerry’s breathing as it got louder, deeper, coming in more harsh pants and deep swallows.

In one swift motion he straightened his head, opened his mouth wide and then swallowed as he forced himself down over Gerry’s member. The strangled curse that rung out would have made him smile but he was a little too occupied at the moment and he moaned as just a tiny bit of salty fluid hit the back of his throat. He left one hand on Gerry’s hip for balance, let the other move down to open his own pants and start jerking himself off in an echo of the bobs of his head. Gerry’s hands wound down into his hair, not pushing, just holding on, like a lifeline, and Ronny quickened his pace, throwing in every trick in the book. He moaned again, as the thought came unbidden to his head of what it would feel like to have this hot, thick length pressed up inside him, and apparently his moan was enough to get Gerry off because suddenly there was all this gushing fluid pouring down his mouth. He came in his own hand as he tried to swallow down every droplet, almost chocking as he greedily took in too much too fast.

A few last lazy licks and he pulled back, wiping his hand on a tissue from the table behind him and carefully tucking Gerry back into his jeans before he finally looked up to meet Gerry’s eyes. The man looked terrified and he glanced once at Ronny’s parts, still hanging out of his jeans before he bolted to the door. He stopped in the doorway, and looked back once before disappearing.

“I’m sorry.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Ronny alone again but he didn’t mind it so much now. He knew what it was like, to be scared and confused about why things were changing and he guessed maybe he had pushed things a little too far too fast. But what was done was done and only tomorrow would tell how they both got through this. Without bothering to close his pants he wandered into his bedroom for a much needed shower.

Rusty needed a girl. At least that’s what Tess and Danny said while they were sitting in the back of Rusty’s car on the way to a nice remote airport. He’d made a quip back, something about a women’s prison but didn’t give it any real thought.

He was in a bar in Pittsburgh when it hit him. Some chick walked up to him and in one glance he knew. Right then and there he could tell you what she liked, what she disliked, her political views, everything about her. Hell, he could probably get her name in five guesses and her birthday in two. It was all written right there, out in the open, plain for the eye to see if the eye knew which way to look. Clothes, hair, jewelry, stance, make-up, expression, those were the parts of a woman. He didn’t need a girl.

Problem was, he’d had girls. They were boring. He knew women too well, could slip in and out of their head like nothing. He knew them so well he thought he was becoming one. Taking a drink he glanced down his shirt. Yep, still flat. Good. Maybe he’d had enough to drink for the night.

“Hey, handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” One more never hurt. He smiled and he played with the girl, asked her questions like he was trying to get to know her when the only thing he really wanted was to prove himself right.

Yep, got it in one. Name was easy too. Cheryl. She looked like a Cheryl. So if he didn’t want women, what did he want?

He was on the road to Arizona when the answer came to him. Middle of a pouring rainstorm, he stopped, pulled his car off to the side of the road, rolled down the window and thought. The smell of rain always cleared his mind. That’s why he liked this side of the state. The rain never felt so cold out here.

Rusty reviewed his points. One, Danny and Tess thought he needed a girl, and he agreed. He needed something. Two, he, Rusty, did not want a girl. There was no challenge in getting a girl and frankly he doubted any kind of girl would work well with him. No, girls were for when he was in town and he spent too much time in too many towns for one girl to work. But he needed something. Three, there was only one option other than girls, namely boys. He didn’t mind boys. He’d been with a few, they were alright. Still had a few numbers he could look up if he wanted to give that a try again.

He was in Cleveland, oddly enough looking up another guy he knew, when he started to get an idea of who in particular he wanted. He’d thought about dropping in a couple other times, because Chicago was on the way to New Jersey. It was also on the way from California to Pittsburgh and Pittsburgh to Arizona, and well, if he was in Cleveland, Chicago was only another 5 hours, just the other side of Michigan. But he always thought, maybe he’s busy or he’s got something to do. He knew he hadn’t moved. Rusty had kept tabs on all the guys, just in case. Besides, he liked to keep in touch.

This time he thought, hey, what the hell. You only live once, right?

*****

Shifting his bags, Linus tried to balance everything on one arm while he dug his keys out of his pocket. He smiled to himself as everything stayed in place while he inserted the key in the lock, twisted and he was home free. He pushed into his apartment with his arms full of groceries, only to come to a dead halt as he finally lifted his gaze off the floor.

“Rusty.”

The man in question lifted a hand and waved jauntily. One of the old issues of Sports Illustrated Linus had left on the coffee table was spread across his lap. “Hey, Linus.”

Dropping his bags beside the entrance, he shut the door and turned to Rusty with what he hoped wasn’t too blatant concern written across his face. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?” Something, of course, referring to Danny Ocean and Terry Benedict and the Belagio. What-ifs flitted through his head as he waited for Rusty to speak, spinning around in his mind and making him dizzy with suspense.

“No, no. Everything’s fine. I just stopped in to say hi.”

“Oh,” he said, the word falling flat as all the tension drained away. Then another thought came to him and he glared at Rusty in accusation. “You broke into my apartment.”

Rusty just shrugged that easy shrug of his, like it was nothing to casually pick the lock of a friend’s apartment. It was a good lock too. One of Linus’ dad’s friends had come by to put it in for him a little bit after he first moved in, so it’s not like it was just some casual thing.

A smile split Rusty’s face. “It was cold out so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I waited inside.”

Linus couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Yeah, that was Rusty. Picking up his bags he moved around the apartment putting things away, trying to seem casual while his attention still jittered over the fact that Rusty had come to see him. He couldn’t help but wonder why Rusty would come see him of all people. After all, wasn’t Danny out? Shouldn’t he be off seeing him? Or maybe he doesn’t want to get in the way of the Danny-Tess thing, assuming Tess was still around. He’d never really heard anything but he thought his dad had mentioned something he’d heard around, about Tess and Danny moving off to New England, last time Linus had been over for dinner.

“You want to go out for a burger? My treat.”

Linus paused and looked over his shoulder. It didn’t really matter who treated considering they both had over 30 million, but that didn’t seem like the point here.

“Sure.” One more night without having to cook or do dishes was always appreciated. But that still didn’t answer why Rusty was here. So, he asked him.

“What are you doing here, Rusty?”

The man shrugged, folded the magazine and tucked it back into its spot in the stack on the table, and stood leisurely. “I was in town, thought I’d stop by and see a friendly face.”

Oh, that was it. He relaxed, finally not thinking about mobsters and men with guns in any corner of his brain, and let himself smile. “There’s a place down the street that makes some pretty good burgers.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go.” As he let himself relax into Rusty’s company he found it wasn’t such a bad thing. Kind of enjoyable really, just the two of them. So when the night wore on and Rusty started saying how he should be getting back on the road, Linus found himself grabbing a pen from the waitress, jotting a number down on a napkin and slipping it across the table saying that if Rusty was in town again, he should give Linus a call so they could get together again.

*****

He knew he shouldn’t, told himself that every time he started making excuses to go by Chicago. They were lame excuses really. There were thousands of quicker ways he could go that did not involve Chicago. But then he wouldn’t have an excuse to stop by, grab a bite to eat and listen to Linus babble. And the more Linus talked the more Rusty realized he was just a kid, he didn’t get it. He had no clue why Rusty kept stopping by, missed all the subtle innuendo that managed to sneak out without Rusty meaning to.

He was too young, Rusty told himself. Too pure, too innocent, to mess up with a guy like him. But then he reminded himself that Linus wasn’t that young. He’d done well with the Bellagio thing, very well, and from the glimpses Rusty had caught of Linus’ latest work, the kid was getting better. Linus was used to people like him. He was Bobby Caldwell’s kid after all, probably grew up around them.

For each argument there was a counter-argument, driving his brain in circles as he tried to figure this thing out. It was a simple yes or no. He knew what he wanted but he had only the barest of clue what the kid wanted. Recently there had been an inkling of maybe, that the kid might be inclined that way too, and as he thought about it he remembered something. A call the kid had gotten during the Belagio job, when they were in the warehouse, and it had sounded suspiciously like a break-up call. The other guys had teased him about having a girl and Linus vehemently protested that he didn’t, it wasn’t like that. Rusty had been inclined to agree because he’d been closer at the time, had heard a male voice on the phone. He hadn’t thought anything about it at the time, wasn’t any of his business, but now he remembered it and he thought yeah, maybe the kid really did swing that way.

Only one way to find out for certain, he knew. So he waited for the kid to get home, a piece of paper in his hand. Time to throw his chips in and raise the stakes a bit.

*****

Linus wasn’t even surprised anymore when he came home to find Rusty tucked away on his couch, always the same spot that Linus was starting to half-think of as Rusty’s, solely and proprietarily his, mostly ’cause no one else ever really visited Linus here. Then he looked closer because Rusty wasn’t sitting there reading like he normally was. He had a little piece of white paper in his hand, folded over twice, and a serious look on his face as he glanced up at Linus.

“Something wrong?” Something had to be wrong, the way Rusty was looking at him, and he got all nervous again. Was it Danny? Did Benedict know? Were they in trouble again, or was it personal?

Rusty stood. His look was cold, burning straight through Linus and he was afraid to move. Was it something he’d done? Was Rusty mad at him? He didn’t know why because… “Do you know why I keep visiting?”

“Huh?” That was a complete left turn. Linus had no idea how to respond to that.

“Do you know why I keep coming here to visit you?” Rusty asked the question again, slowly.

Linus shrugged, his feet still rooted in the same spot, and he tried to blow the question off casually. “Because you were in town, right? I thought that’s what you said.”

“That’s what I said,” Rusty nodded. “But do you know the real reason why?”

He shook his head, no clue where Rusty was going with this.

Then Rusty approached, crossed the room in quick sliding steps and Linus still couldn’t move. A hand was placed at the back of his head, fingers slipping into his hair as his head was tilted just slightly and he was kissed. Rusty was kissing him. The thought itself was weird, though the action wasn’t. Somehow Linus’ mouth had fallen open and Rusty’s tongue had slipped in and it was good. Damn good. Probably one of the best kisses he’d ever had, not that he’d really had too many. He was too scared and confused to move, to do anything really. Not because this was a guy, he’d done things with guys before, but more because this was Rusty, here, kissing him.

Rusty pulled away, slowly, and he couldn’t help but be more than a little disappointed as the kiss ended. Instead he focused on remembering how to breathe, on the look on Rusty’s face as he pulled away, the fleeting flash of want and hunger and guilt that was there and then gone in a flash.

“That’s why.” If Rusty’s voice was a little hoarse as he spoke, Linus pretended not to notice. The paper was pressed into his hand. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said quietly and then Rusty was gone.

Slowly Linus unfolded the note, almost laughing aloud as everything was laid out before like a multiple choice quiz. What does he want from Rusty, the paper asks, and he skims the choices, short but detailed. A) Sex with no strings attached. B) Sex with strings attached. C) Continued friendship, nothing else. D) Rusty will just go away and leave him alone.

Linus drops down to sit on the sofa, same spot Rusty had been in and it’s still warm, and he thinks.

*****

Linus was waiting for him when he came back, the piece of paper still clutched in his hands. He shut the door behind him, locked it just in case and walked over to hover near the couch. He didn’t say anything, just waited, giving Linus a bit more time in case he needed it. The boy refolded the paper carefully, set it aside on the table, and stood slowly. He didn’t look at Rusty. Linus seemed a bit nervous, the way he was shifting his weight from foot to foot and he looked down, though Rusty thought he caught a hint of a blush on Linus’ face.

“I chose B.”

Rusty smiled widely. He’d been hoping Linus’d pick that option. One step and he was there, touching, and he pulled the young man to him. His lips tasted sweet, like peppermint, strong and addictive, and Linus was kissing back this time, no longer a frozen block of wood but something alive and liquid. Rusty pushed them back, towards Linus’ bedroom, and pieces of clothes started to fall loose along the way, casualties to wandering, exploring hands. He pushed until he had Linus pressed against the side of the bed and kept going until he had the boy dangling half on, half off the bed, his hips at just the right height.

Pesky pants were pulled off the boy, exposing him but Rusty didn’t look. If he looked he’d be tempted and he needed to keep things slow, just in case, because he didn’t know how much experience the boy had. Rusty pulled a tube out of his jean pocket. He’d come prepared, not hopeful but just in case. Linus’ legs slipped around his waist and he thought maybe Linus was a bit more experienced than Rusty thought. Okay, so Linus was a lot more experienced than he thought judging from the eager hands that were opening Rusty’s pants and pulling him loose. He kissed Linus harder as he slipped a slick finger in, felt the tight flesh relax around him, inviting him in. Then there was more than just hands on Rusty’s cock and he pulled away to look down at Linus with an amused grin.

“Thief.” He hadn’t even felt Linus reach into the same pocket the lube had come from to pull out the condom he’d put there.

Linus just smiled, his expression a little distracted as he rolled the rubber over Rusty’s erection. With a grin, Rusty added to that distraction, pushing two more fingers in and watching in delight as Linus gasped, his back arching as he pushed into those fingers.

“More.” It was halfway between an order and a plea and Rusty honored it gradually. He hooked his arms under Linus’ knees, spreading his legs wide and lifting them higher. One push and he was in. He held himself there, watching Linus’ face as the boy shuddered in obvious pleasure. Linus pushed back, an obvious signal, and Rusty took it, starting out slowly.

“Faster. Please. Rusty.”

He could do that too. Linus’ hips rose to meet him as he pushed forward, sliding Linus’ legs up to his shoulder so that he could grab onto solid hips and pull the boy towards him in a quick thrust. The reaction was instant. Eyes open wide, Linus moaned, pretty pleas falling from his lips as he begged Rusty for more. Their bodies came together hard, fast, almost bruising as his hands dug into Linus’ side, holding on for sanity as Linus squeezed around him, hot and tight and so welcome it felt like home. It was over quick, Linus coming into his hand after barely more than a touch, shouting ecstasy as he tightened around Rusty. That sent him over the edge and he followed Linus, spurting into the warmth around him.

He let Linus’ legs fall as he leaned forward as he slipped out and slumped against the lightly muscled chest beneath him. Almost absently he let his lips kiss haphazardly along a bare neck as he waited for Linus’ breathing to calm.

“So, wanna go out for a burger?”

Linus turned to look at him, his eyes flashing incredulity for a second before he turned into Rusty’s arms, laughing so hard his entire body shook.

“Yeah, sure. Shower first?”

“Sounds good.” There were 23 different ways to have sex in the shower, Rusty had discovered. He started off with number one, bracing Linus’ hands on the wall as he fucked him into the tile. As they were cleaning up he let his hands wander with his thoughts as he tried to come up with a good excuse to be back in Chicago next week.

Next Chapter

The rain came down hard, pounding against the pavement in a torrent of thundering drops. Takaba Akihito ran and tried not to let the rain push him into the pavement as well. It was hard. Each drop struck like a hammer blow to his back, the pressure slowly tilting him forward to the black asphalt.

“No.” With a shaky breath he snapped his eyes open wide, forced himself to keep moving even though he could barely see where he was going. A wall of rain poured around him, so heavy he could barely see the road in front of him, but he could hear them behind him. Loud voices echoed off the walls of the alleyway he’d stumbled down, men calling out to each other as they searched for him.

He heard something else too, just before the light hit him, so bright it made his eyes swim. Or maybe something else was doing that because he felt his head grow heavy and then suddenly there were two yellow lines in the pavement when there should have been one. The rain pushed him hard from behind, singing in glee as he hit the pavement with a loud splash. As the rain swallowed him up he heard the loud squeal of tires coming closer and then he heard no more.

*****

When Akihito woke again it was to dim lights and a white ceiling. His mind felt sluggish, hazy and he thought for a moment that maybe some of the rain had crawled into his brain to pound on his thoughts. Something moved by his head and he felt a cool hand touch his brow gently, softer even than his mother’s touch.

A strange length of sound from his right caught his wavering attention. “Fi…wake…” Turning his head just slightly, Akihito was able to vaguely make out an elongated face and slicked back black hair. The images kept moving and blurring so it was hard to tell who exactly the man was. He spoke again, the sound blurred by the rain falling inside his head so that he couldn’t make out a word. But he felt himself relax anyways, the tone comforting and familiar even if he had no clue what the man had said. Rolling his face to the side he let his cheek rest against the cool palm as the rain pushed him down again.

*****

A small whimper preceded him into waking the next time. He kept his eyes closed, focused on breathing through the pain that filled his body before he even thought about facing the world around him. There was a rustle of movement from across the room but he ignored it as the pain in his shoulder made his head spin. His world tilted slightly as a weight settled next to him, shifting the material of the mattress beneath him. Rubbing his thumb slightly against the soft fabric beneath his hand he confirmed his suspicion that he was on a bed, a very comfortable and high-class bed from the feel of it.

An arm moved under his shoulders and he cried out in pain as he was lifted. The world swam, darkness forming at the corners to swallow him up but he fought it. Even so he couldn’t help the small tears that welled at the corners of his eyes, and he gave one short sob of pain as the motion suddenly stopped. He rested against something soft and warm, his eyes still closed, now tighter than ever as he sought to get a grip on the shuddering pain that was holding him. Two fingers pressed against his lips and he absently parted them, accepting the pill that was slipped into his mouth. The fingers retreated, replaced seconds later by a chilled surface. Opening his mouth he let the cool water wash in and take the pill with it as he swallowed.

Hazily he opened his eyes, staring at the black and white fabric beside his face while he waited for his vision to stop moving on its own. Carefully, he tilted his head back ever so slightly until he could see the face of the man holding him. Recognition lit through him and he tensed, causing another burst of pain from his injured shoulder, where a bullet had ripped through his skin while he’d been running through dark, wet streets. As soon as he cried out, Asami’s voice was whispering soothing words in his ear. With uncharacteristic gentleness, one of Asami’s hands sifted through his hair until he calmed down and relaxed back into Asami’s hold.

Akihito yelled at his mind to push away, to move any distance but all he could manage was to clutch weakly at Asami’s shirt with the hand of his uninjured arm. “What…” He coughed, his voice rasping painfully on the words, and the glass of water was pressed once more to his lips. He drank slowly, confused at the strange show of gentleness. Maybe, he thought, he was still asleep and this was some weird fever dream. There was no way the bastard Asami would ever be this nice to him without an ulterior motive.

“What,” he tried again, “did you give me?” He was a little worried at how easily he’d swallowed the pill without even knowing where he was or, for that matter, what the pill was.

A chuckle met his words, jostling him slightly as Asami’s chest moved and he couldn’t hide the flinch that caused. He did manage to bite back the whimper that threatened, saving at least some of his dignity. The movement stopped suddenly and there was a short pause before Asami spoke. “Relax. It’s just a pain killer. You couldn’t tell that on your own?”

He looked up at the man and realized that it was true. The pain in his body was dwindling. It was still there, but the lesser injuries had faded away and the fire that was his right shoulder was only a dull buzz instead of the pounding roar of moments ago. While he was thinking, Asami fiddled with something out of Akihito’s line of sight. When he turned back, Akihito blinked as a tray was set on his lap. A small bowl of soup was set out, mostly just broth, and half a filled bun as well. Asami shifted at his, giving him more room to move his left arm. He knew it wouldn’t work but he tried to grab the spoon with his left hand. Somehow he managed to get the spoon in the bowl but it shook unsteadily as he tried to lift a bit of soup out of the bowl, splashing the liquid out of the spoon before he could even get it clear of the bowl. He dropped the spoon, his left hand falling to the sheets in front of him and he clenched it into a fist as Akihito tried to fight back the useless tears that were forming in his eyes.

“Shh.” And again there was that comforting whisper, a light caress, and then Asami shifted back to his earlier position. A long, elegant hand picked up the spoon, ladled a portion of soup out and brought it to rest before Akihito’s lips. He opened his mouth and let Asami feed him. He tried to force down the feeling of helplessness that was slowly overwhelming him but he couldn’t stop it. Asami did that to him. No matter what the situation, where they were or what they were doing, Asami made him feel like a helpless doll. Now here he was, too weak to move, stuck in Asami’s bed and dependent upon him for everything. He even needed the man to feed him because he was too weak to do it himself.

Somewhere between slow, measured bites of soup his head had fallen to rest on Asami’s shoulder. Moisture dotted his cheeks but he ignored it. Ever so slowly his eyes drifted closed and his breath evened out as he fell asleep on Asami’s shoulder.

*****

A faint discomfort pulled him from the bounds of sleep and he opened his eyes, this time to a darkened room. His bladder painfully reminded him that it was full and he looked around, spotting an open doorway to his right. He vaguely remembered from the last time he was here that that was the bathroom. Muscles protested as he tried to sit up and he had the faint, very faint idea of waking up Asami who was sleeping quietly in the bed next to him, turned away so that only the broad expanse of his back was showing. But in this one thing he adamantly refused to let Asami help him.

Ever so slowly he drew back the covers with his left hand, carefully shifting his weight at a snails pace until he moved his legs a little off the bed. Biting his lip hard to keep from screaming in pain, he grabbed the side of the bed with his left hand and pulled himself up to a sitting position. He stayed there, hunched over, for a long time, waiting to be able to breathe normally again. Slowly he opened his eyes, looked at the shadowed floor and made himself calm down. His legs weren’t injured so this should be the easy part, right?

He cradled his right arm with his left, trying not to jostle it too much as he stood shakily on unsteady feet. Sheer determination propelled him across the floor without stumbling, and he made it to the door. He had to drop his arm to shut the door and oh gods, did it hurt when he did that. The movement jarred his arm, sending pain screaming through his shoulder. He closed the door quickly, harder than he intended but hopefully Asami was too heavy a sleeper to notice. He locked the door, just in case and groped along the left wall until he felt the light switch.

Right, just one more thing in front of him. Asami had one of the western style toilets, raised up off the floor, which made things easier in a painful sort of way. Leaning his head against the cold tile walls he let his arm rest of the porcelain back while he fumbled at getting his pants down. Asami had changed him while he’d been unconscious because he wasn’t wearing the street clothes he’d had on the night it was raining. He almost cursed Asami for that, a fly would have made things so much easier on him but he realized that his clothes had probably been muddy, bloody, and sopping wet. He pulled down the sweatpants only as much as was needed. As he did, he noticed how surprisingly well the pants fit him. They couldn’t have been Asami’s, there’s no way the older man could have fit into them, and they seemed in pretty good condition which means they were probably fairly new. Did Asami buy them just for him?

He was just finished when a knock on the door startled him and he lost his grip on his pants. “Akihito?”

Fuck, now was not the time for Asami to be barging in. “I’m fine, go away.” Considering his history with the main he couldn’t help but be nervous in his current state of undress with only a thin door separating the two of them. Thankfully it was a locked door but Akihito had no illusions that Asami couldn’t work around that.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” Ah yes, there was Asami’s trademark anger.

“I’m fine,” he shouted back, flushing the toilet to prove his point. Now for the hard part. Sliding his head down the wall he stretched to reach the fabric pooled around his ankles, ignoring how incredibly stupid he had to look doing so. The material remained just out of reach and the pain in his arm increased so he bit his lip and stretched just a bit more… and then promptly lost his balance, tilting to his right. He hit the tiled floor hard on his shoulder and screamed, loud enough to wake everyone in the building. It certainly had Asami in a stir because he was shouting and pounding on the door.

Slowly, calmly, he forced himself to breath around the pain, brought his legs up until he could grab his pants and wiggle them up his legs. Tears rolled openly down his face as each tiny movement wrenched a sob of pain from his lips but he had to do this. The pounding had stopped while he wasn’t paying attention, which couldn’t mean anything good. He rolled onto his back and lifted his hips to pull his pants the rest of the way up. With one determined heave he was sitting and from there he managed to stand somehow and get the water turned on so that he could wash his hand.

There was a scratching at the door and then all of a sudden Asami was there, grabbing him by the arms. He screamed again and Asami released him so fast it seemed like the man had been burnt. Before Asami could say anything else, Akihito was falling into his chest, face pressed against bare skin as he sobbed quietly. Without saying a word, Asami picked him up and carried him back to the bed, placing him gently on the covers before shutting off the lights and returning to his previous position on the bed.

*****

Akihito stayed with Asami for two days before he finally asked the question.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Asami just smiled that cocky, self-possessed smirk of his and didn’t say a word.

Another thought came to him, as he remembered back to that rainy night. “Where’s my camera?”

That brought an even wider grin to the bastard’s face. “Confiscated.”

He glared his fury. That was his camera! How dare that man….

“They were rivals of mine, by the way.” Blinking he stared at Asami as smooth words poured from the man’s captivating lips. “You’ve helped me out quite a bit with those photos. There was enough evidence there to shut them down, get them out of my hair for good.”

So that was why he was being nice. Akihito felt sick suddenly, twisted disappointment pooling in his stomach, but he had to ask. “Is that the only reason you’re being nice to me? Is that all I’m worth?”

“That’s not quite it.” Asami was suddenly very close, looming by the edge of the bed. “Do you really want to know what you’re worth?” His tie was dropped on the floor and Asami started unbuttoning his shirt with hungry eyes focused on Akihito. A familiar leer spread across the man’s face and he suddenly felt a sense of panic as the bed dipped low under Asami’s wait.

“No.” He cried out before he could think, his mind suddenly flaring on uncontrolled panic. “Please. Don’t.” He pushed himself away, not really seeing Asami any more as he hunched against the backboard. Pain flared bright in his shoulder but it was dimmed by his swirling emotions. “Please don’t hurt me anymore,” he begged. Closing his eyes he curled in on himself against the wooden backboard. He couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been in so much pain, so helpless, he couldn’t do it like that. It’d break him like that if they did it now.

A hand settled on him and he flinched, whimpering softly but it didn’t try to pull him away. It just stayed, softly petting his hair until he turned away from the wall to look at Asami in confusion. The man’s face was blank, empty of emotion.

“Come here.”

Mindlessly, Akihito obeyed, letting Asami’s hands carefully lift him and settle him until he was lying on the bed once more. An extra pillow was tucked under his arm before Asami leaned down and ever so softly kissed him. The kiss took his breath away, much like all the kisses they’d shared but this was different. There was no rushed quality to this one, no force. That was probably the only thing that kept him from protesting as Asami slowly drew Akihito’s pants down before disrobing himself. He reached over, took something Akihito couldn’t see out of a drawer before kissing him again, distractingly.

He wasn’t nearly distracted enough to miss it when a cold, wet finger pressed against him and he tensed, knowing exactly what was coming from Asami’s normal method: two fingers shoved in briefly and then the whole thing, making him cry out in pain.

“Relax.” The word was breathed into his hair as a single digit pressed against him, slowly entering. It hurt, but it was not the sudden, vibrant pain he was used to. Instead this pain just hummed in the background, constant but ignorable and he found himself relaxing slightly as a second finger wasn’t added immediately.

“You don’t want it to hurt.”

Looking up into Asami’s face, he nodded once. “I hate the pain,” he admitted slowly, not sure if Asami would get the reference to his words from well over a month ago when he’d almost slipped and said it when Asami had visited him at his apartment.

A knowing, cocky grin spread across Asami’s face and instead of trying to smack the look off his face, he just turned his face and blushed. Asami turned his face back and he couldn’t help but notice how good the man looked with a smile stretching across his face. “Well, it certainly is easier this way. You already have two fingers inside you and you haven’t complained once.”

“Huh?” Focusing back on his surroundings, Akihito realized that Asami had indeed snuck a second finger inside while he wasn’t paying attention and the two were moving back and forth in a slow scissoring pattern. A third finger slipped in then, stretching him and he couldn’t help but moan at the soft feel. This was what he wanted, secretly without ever really admitting it to himself, this kind of gentle touch. Asami’s fingers moved deep inside of him and he let himself melt into the sheets. That was, until they pushed farther in and he suddenly saw stars in his vision. A hand at the base of his neck kept him from pushing up though his shoulder did twinge slightly as he shifted.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Closing his eyes, he whispered the word and it didn’t feel as ominous as he thought it would. Instead it felt more like a weight was lifted from his chest, making him float a bit on the bed.

“Ready for more?”

Eyes popped open and he stared at Asami as the fingers pulled out. He was asking. Asami, big evil corporate exec was asking him, Akihito, lowly photographer for permission. Slowly, he nodded, afraid to say anything and break the fairy-spell that seemed to have taken over the man.

Asami held him carefully as he pushed in, somehow managing to not add any pressure to his injured shoulder even though his hips were lifted off the bed. Two more pillows were pulled away from their spots at the headboard and placed under his back to hold him up as Asami stayed still inside him, letting Akihito adjust to the feeling. It was strange. Asami was big but not painful, at least not too much. It was more of a stretching-pain that the ripping-tearing-pain he was used to. He relaxed into the covers and breathed easily, which seemed to be the sign Asami was looking for because he took the opportunity then to move, drawing out ever so slowly.

His breath caught as Asami pushed out and then he released it in a long, low moan as Asami came back in, just as slowly, just as gently. The movement was weird, too strange and he felt like Asami was going to switch back to demon mode any moment and start slamming him into the mattress, regardless of the pain it caused. But the longer he waited, the more he forgot about the idea as gentle kisses down his shoulder and neck distracted him and he got used to the slow and even pace.

Low moans were pulled from him with every movement and he felt full, incredibly full in a way he’d only ever tasted briefly before. But here it was all drawn out, stretched over time so that he could feel every minute movement. His good hand was buried in Asami’s hair, holding him close as he slowly started to plead, begging to be allowed release. With an easy chuckle, Asami took hold of him, stroking his hardness at the same easy pace.

Asami’s arm across his collarbone kept him from moving as he came, a series of ever rising moans falling from his lips in loud crescendo before he fell, silent, to lay limp against the bed. A few more gentle pushes and then Asami was biting Akihito’s shoulder as warm liquid pumped inside of him. He was too buzzed to mind the pain, he just held on, his arm around Asami as they both floated back to reality, and he found he like it, this way, not that he’d admit that just yet. He had a feeling Asami knew anyways.

*****

It was strange that he felt disappointed to be leaving Asami’s apartment almost two weeks after he’d first been shot. But he had a life he had to return to and he had no excuse to stay here anymore now that his arm was healed enough that he could take care of himself somewhat. He’d at least had a chance to call his mother, let her know he was alright and she was expecting him. He found his shoes by the entrance way, and a few clothes his size had appeared conspicuously two days ago on a chair near the bed. It was time for him to go.

“Running away?”

He looked back over his shoulder at the man leaning casually against the doorframe. They hadn’t discussed it but it was vaguely agreed upon that he would be leaving soon.

“I have no reason to stay.” The truth of the words didn’t keep them from causing a dull, empty ache in his stomach. He wondered what kind of reason he would need to stay. Would he ever get it?

“I’m just going to catch you again, you realize.”

Akihito turned to look over his shoulder as he opened the door. He smiled, the first real smile he’d ever really gave to Asami. “I look forward to it.”

With a backwards wave he jogged out of the building.