A gay story: Vampires and Lovers Ch. 06 Ch. 6 Demon
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Vincent shook his head. There was no demon in the room, no demon in the apartment. Whatever he had thought he had seen did not exist, could not exist. He ran his hand tiredly through his blond hair. Clearly the strain he had been under was reaching its limit. He sighed softly. He needed to unburden his soul, but was loathe so to do. Loathe to reveal all that had happened to him, loathe to confess his failing, loathe to cause his beloved Chosen more pain. However, he knew by not speaking he was still causing pain and the indecision of what to do and say was something Vincent was unused to experiencing. In reaction to this, his lovemaking was becoming more aggressive as he sought to reassert his dominance. With a groan he headed back to the bedroom.
The sight of Wyl in his bed and the warming scent of love, fulfilment and happiness, made him harden even as he approached where the younger man lay. The demand that he claim what was his rose in his heart, mind and body, making it impossible to do anything other than make love again. He stood and looked at his Chosen, his eyes taking in the lines and curves of the beautiful young man so oblivious to his stare. Vincent tenderly traced a finger over Wyl’s cheek and down to his lips. His heart ached with love as Wyl kissed the fingertip caressing him, murmuring Vincent’s name and edged towards him, all without immediately waking.
As his Chosen’s eyes opened, they widened at the sight of the proud column standing its ovation for his attention. At Wyl’s nod, Vincent cupped the back of his lover’s head and gently urged him to the hard flesh that eagerly awaited him. Vincent groaned softy as Wyl began suckling dreamily making small sounds of satisfaction. The blond indulged in carefully-controlled, long, lazy thrusts into the lush haven surrounding his erection. Slowly Vincent eased his thrusting and pulled free. The sight, scents, sounds and sensations were threatening to send him over the abyss. Instead, he moved to satisfy taste, his tongue thrusting in imitation of the more intimate flesh that the warm cavern had so recently housed.
Relishing the mixed tastes of his mate and himself, Vincent nipped to the hollow of Wyl’s throat, nibbling a sensitive spot until Wyl was panting and writhing. He threw back the covers and avariciously stared at the living banquet before him. The muted light of the single, dim lamp gave a burnished appearance to Wyl’s skin. Vincent took his rightful place between the lithe legs and began to tease the irresistible espresso areolae and the chocolate buds they haloed. Wyl murmured encouragements, arching his chest upwards to offer his nipples for more of Vincent’s amatory attentions. Vincent teased the very tip of a hardened nub with his tongue and then licked the pebbled surface before drawing the whole nub into his mouth. He nursed at it tenderly and then switched to the other, giving it the same treatment.
He wrapped his hand around the base of Wyl’s erect shaft and let his lips encompass the crown, his tongue probing insistently for the addictive, intoxicating pre-come. Moaning needily, Wyl tried to thrust, but Vincent’s weight on his hips prevented his mate from taking any control over the proceedings. Vincent was in command. He and he alone would dictate the speed of their lovemaking. He could feel the tremors in Wyl’s body as the younger man’s instinctive movements were restrained. Growling his dominance, Vincent took Wyl’s flesh deep, inhaling the musk and heat in the nest of dark fur. Vincent’s growl vibrated along the shaft he encased causing Wyl to cry his lover’s name, one hand fisting in the bedding, the other restlessly petting at Vincent’s powerful body. Vincent wanted to hear that pleasure-drenched cry again. Moving his mouth up until just the head of Wyl’s organ was encircled, he dropped lower, sucking hard and was duly rewarded.
At the dulcet sound of his name, Vincent slid two fingers under Wyl’s sac to his opening. It was slick from a heady mix of their earlier lovemaking and the natural lubricant the bigger male could scent. He lifted Wyl’s hips, letting his tongue swipe back and forth to increasingly impassioned cries. Probing inside, the tight channel flexed fiercely around Vincent’s agile muscle and his growls deepened in timbre. He wanted his throbbing shaft buried in his lover’s body. He coaxed Wyl into turning over for him. His preternatural eyesight had no difficulty in seeing the dilated and glistening rosette that awaited him. He nipped each peachy mound he held, keeping Wyl spread open. He nuzzled at the velvet pouch, feeling the hard orbs, relishing the thought his mate wanted him, needed him.
With a last sharp nip to Wyl’s inner thighs, Vincent guided his shaft from the top of Wyl’s cleft down to the underside of his sac, teasing his mate, hearing soft pleas entreating him to enter the waiting haven. He resisted a moment or two more, just to emphasise his dominance and then sheathed his full length in Wyl in one powerful movement. With a deep groan, Wyl opened to him, his channel spasming around Vincent’s maleness. Vincent wrapped his arms around his Chosen and turned them to lie on their sides. Spooning tightly behind the smaller man, one arm under Wyl’s head he hugged his lover to his chest, thrusting deeply and forcefully. Using his free hand, Vincent pushed away the luxuriant tresses and bared the curve of his throat and shoulder, his eyes gleaming. He nipped at fragile flesh.
“Mine,” he rasped, teeth descending to erotically press against that fragile flesh. The arm beneath Wyl shifted to hold him close. The other hand moved to pump Wyl’s straining erection. In an explosion of movement, Vincent flicked his thumb over the sensitised head of Wyl’s shaft, rammed his own rod deep into the clinging sheath and sank his teeth into Wyl’s flesh. Vincent felt Wyl convulse in ecstasy. The clenching channel contracted around him in a series of spasms that forced Vincent’s finish from him. His seed erupted from him in powerful spurts, filling the cherished body in his arms as Wyl’s semen bathed his hand in wet heat.
As Wyl lay sated and spent, Vincent stayed deep inside his mate, with every intention of remaining there as long as possible, proclaiming Wyl as his. He licked closed the wounds at his lover’s throat before lazily lapping his mate’s crème from his fingers. He felt Wyl go fully lax and knew the younger man was already asleep, exhausted from two intense sessions of lovemaking. The blond instinctively tightened his grip around the slender body when Wyl gave a small shudder as Vincent lost his battle to remain awake, a flicker of red twisting sensually in his mind.
****
Vincent and Wyl eagerly welcomed the rest of their family back home. Wyl hugging all in turn, delighted they were all together once more. Vincent smiled indulgently. He would give his family time to rest from their journeys. He would speak to them soon enough and wanted them settled first.
The day passed quickly, Gabriel and David enthusing to Wyl and Delfin about the forest they had spent their time in. Seamus had paperwork to attend to and Vincent decided to retire to the bedroom to compose his thoughts.
He stretched out on the large bed and sighed. He was finding it increasingly difficult not to think about the image of the demon Marcus had projected when Vincent was his prisoner. He constantly relived the attack, examining his reactions minutely to convince himself it had all been in his mind and that he could not have stopped it. He also unthinkingly let pleasurable imagery run through his mind, reassuring himself of what he did enjoy in comparison.
A flicker of red immediately drew him out of his contemplations. It was there before him; the demon of his nightmares. He glanced at his door, certain his family would come.
“Just you and me, Vincent,” it spoke. Its voice was soft, melodic, seductive.
Vincent stared, unable to move as the creature swayed provocatively towards him. Its penis was already half hard and its tails undulated suggestively. It seemed the embodiment of carnality and wantonness as it licked its lips, making them glisten invitingly.
“I’m what you need, what you want, what you dream of,” it said, stopping by the edge of the bed. “I can give you what the boy can’t. All you have to do is lie back and give yourself to me. Is that so hard? Stop fighting me, Vincent.”
“No,” Vincent whispered. “You’re not real. I don’t want you.”
“I’m in your dreams day and night. I know exactly how and where you touch you.”
“No!” The denial was absolute as Vincent shut his eyes against the beguiling vision. When he opened them it was gone. He covered his face with his hands. Was he going mad? He needed Wyl, needed to join with his Chosen, needed to be back in control. He rushed from the room.
****
“I need you,” Vincent rasped, his voice guttural. He had simply sought out his mate and almost dragged him to their bedroom. He shoved his knee between Wyl’s thighs, forcing them apart. He placed his hand on the slender chest, holding the younger man in place. He cupped Wyl’s erection with his free hand and nuzzled at the exposed neck. His Chosen moaned his submission, turning his head to allow Vincent access to fragile flesh. Vincent licked at the vulnerable throat and fixed his teeth on it, holding Wyl against the wall with dominant strength.
The younger Vampire whimpered, unable to deny his instinct to submit to the needs of his alpha mate despite the knowledge that this was not their normal lovemaking. Something had changed within his lover, but Wyl did not know what. Making love had become more aggressive. Vincent seemingly needed to display dominance and control. Although afterwards he was contrite, it did not stop the repetition, the circle seemingly unbreakable. He gave an involuntary shudder that had nothing to do with his arousal but a fleeting chill that pervaded and vanished almost simultaneously.
Then the brunette moaned, rational thought fracturing, as the hand at Wyl’s groin stopped rubbing and lowered his zipper. Wyl canted his hips forward, seeking his lover’s hand eagerly, still needing and wanting their joining. He hoped he could give Vincent what he needed, that this time his mate could find the catharsis so clearly necessary. A moan of pleasure tore from his mouth as the hand closed around his hardened flesh. Wyl’s wrist was grasped and pressed though the opening in Vincent’s pants. He gripped the solid column of flesh and stroked. The teeth against his throat broke delicate skin and Wyl moaned as Vincent licked at the wounds, sucking softly. The fangs withdrew and Wyl’s body was eased carefully to the floor. His lover followed him down, pushing his tongue deep within his mouth, not relenting in the need to possess his mate.
Vincent sucked Wyl’s lower lip in time with the rhythm of his stroking hand. He stopped to virtually tear off their clothing, growling at the inhibitive cloth, as he felt an almost bestial need to bury himself in Wyl’s tight heat. He pulled his pliant mate back into a voracious kiss. Breaking the kiss, the dominant male rolled Wyl onto his stomach and stared with avaricious eyes at his lover’s creamy globes. Wyl was hard and leaking and his hidden entrance wept its lubricating tears. Vincent leant down, spreading the mounds apart and thrust his tongue into velvet heat. He plundered the tiny opening, encouraging it to widen to accept his flesh.
Wyl began to keen softly with the need for release. Every muscle was shaking with arousal and he felt there were unquenchable flames in his veins. Although there was a lack of tenderness, Vincent ruthlessly and thoroughly exploited every weakness Wyl possessed to excite and stimulate him. Coherent thought deserted the younger Vampire. He became little more than a being of pure sensation, a sleek, smooth-skinned form crying out to his mate for completion. He existed for Vincent’s masterful touch and the joining of their bodies.
Vincent manhandled Wyl with ease so that his chest and upper body leant over their armchair, whilst allowing him access to his lover’s lower body. Breathing harshly, Vincent ran his hand proprietarily over hips, buttocks and thighs, urging Wyl’s legs wider apart. He hesitated, his gaze entranced by the glistening portal that granted him access to his Chosen’s body. Groaning in aching need, he gripped his straining arousal and sheathed himself fully. He held still, feeling the tight straight ripple around him. Then, holding Wyl’s hips, Vincent thrust steadily.
Once into his rhythm, he released one hip to stroke his lover. Vincent drove into the sensitive strait in powerful strokes. He took his Chosen to the brink over and over until Wyl was shaking and begging. Finally, with a feral growl of fulfilment, Vincent sank his full length one last time and came hard. He felt Wyl crest simultaneously, his spasming channel milking the older Vampire of every drop of his release, his own hot seed filling his mate.
Wyl whimpered as his lover gave him a last few, shallow strokes before easing out. He lay against the chair, barely able to comprehend the ferocity of their joining. Then gentle hands were moving him and he was cradled lovingly in Vincent’s lap.
“I’m sorry, my Own,” Vincent husked. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” Wyl replied softly. It was not a full lie. Physically, Vincent had somehow tempered the brutality of the lovemaking to ensure Wyl was not hurt in that way, but his heart ached for the tenderness that was missing. “What’s wrong, Vincent? Please tell me,” he begged.
“Not now,” Vincent pleaded, hugging his Chosen to his chest. He could not bear to try and put into words what he was feeling at that moment. “Please be patient a little while longer, my Own. I promise I will talk.”
“I love you, Vincent,” Wyl said, canting his head for the kiss he craved. This time it was gentle, loving and Wyl moaned in pleasure as his tongue was sucked into Vincent’s mouth.
“Feed from me,” Vincent urged.
Wyl shuddered as the powerful elixir flooded his mouth. As he licked closed the small wounds, Vincent eased them to their feet.
“Sleep with me?” he asked, holding out his hand. He smiled as Wyl slid his smaller hand into the one Vincent offered. With preternatural speed he had them beneath the sheets, his powerful body wrapped tightly around his precious lover’s. He knew he had to speak to his Chosen…and to his family. He had to purge himself following his imprisonment at Marcus’ hands.
That he believed he had seen and spoken to the imaginary demon showed he was getting worse not better. He feared he would truly hurt his young mate. He nuzzled at the bare shoulder before him. Wyl’s trust should be something he cherished and yet Vincent knew he was abusing it. He licked at the smooth skin, letting the familiar and beloved taste roll over his tongue. As Wyl slept, Vincent forced himself to remain awake.
Afraid of what his dreams might bring.
****
Seamus had a surprise for his new lover. As soon as he had found out his Chosen was a Dryad he had made a decision about their penthouse suite home. He wrapped a giggling Delfin in his arms and took him up to the roof. In their absence, Liam and his family had crafted exactly what he desired. The beauty of the roof garden, encased in glass that was specially crafted to withstand attacks, almost took his own breath away and he had commissioned it.
Delfin’s delighted sounds as he wandered around trees and plants made Seamus swell with pride.
“The glass can’t be opened,” he explained. “Apart from its strength, Tillie used a protective incantation over it. It would have been too easy to attack otherwise. Do you like it?”
“I love it, Seamus,” Delfin enthused, peppering his lover’s face with kisses before running to explore. The floor had been covered with grass and moss, bark had been strewn haphazardly and flowering herbs added a subtle perfume. Bigger plants were in pots or tubs, including some trees. There was even a small waterfall and pool arrangement. It was almost like being outside. He giggled as he came across a couple of incongruous additions to the landscape. One was a bed. It was four-posted and creeping vines and flowers had been trained to cover it and create a living canopy. The other was a large, well-padded armchair.
Seamus’ eyes followed his lover’s actions avidly, the way a lion watches an isolated gazelle, but he did not pounce. Not yet. With a predator’s patience, the blonde waited for the right moment. As if unaware of his scrutiny, Delfin slid soft leggings down over his hips and stepped out of them. The Dryad never wore underwear, disliking even the feel of silk. A thin t-shirt was pulled over his head and Seamus gave a hungry smile as Delfin leant licentiously back against the chair and opened his arms in silent invitation.
Seamus straddled the lithe form, kissing his Chosen passionately. Standing, Seamus slowly disrobed, letting Delfin stroke his arousal as the Dryad moaned softly.
“I want you, Seamus,” Delfin panted. “Want you to take me.”
“I shall, Petal,” Seamus vowed.
Seamus repositioned Delfin so that the Dryad lay in the lap of the chair, his head on the seat and his hips raised up onto the low-set padded arm. He gave a feral grin as his lover spread his legs wantonly wide, offering himself to the Vampire. Seamus could see his nymph was trembling with eagerness. He stroked his salivating organ and Delfin made a noise of need that made his shaft throb with desire.
Abruptly, Seamus dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the alluring cleft. Delfin gasped as the blonde lapped at his declivity, laving his sac and darting a knowing tongue into his flexing opening. Over and over the agile muscle licked a path from the nymph’s quivering aperture to his velvet sac. It left Delfin begging to be filled with something of greater substance than just Seamus’ tongue. The Vampire was pleased that Delfin was readily lubricating, preferring his lover’s natural taste above anything they could purchase.
Sure of his mate’s readiness, Seamus rose and took hold of his aching erection. Positioning himself, he pushed forward into searing tightness. He heard Delfin’s wanton moan of encouragement as Seamus’ length slid into him. The penetration did not stop until the Vampire’s sac rested against the nymph’s smooth cheeks.
Seamus grasped the young man’s erection sliding against his abdomen in a patch of its own silvery moisture. Delfin cried out his pleasure as the Vampire pumped him firmly. His powerful hips thrust with long, deep strokes, rubbing Delfin’s sweet spot until the Dryad thrashed wildly. A sweet cry of fulfilment rang in the air as the nymph reached his climax. As his mate’s arousal spurted his addictive crème, Seamus buried his length in his Chosen’s velvet heat. A long groan announced the blonde’s orgasm, His seed pulsed again and again to fill his beloved mate, leaving both males panting and satiated.
Delfin could not suppress the soft laughter as Seamus lifted them into the air and spun them around to then settle with the Dryad cradled close to his chest. Then the nymph sobered a little. Wyl’s sad face came to mind. He decided to speak to his more experienced lover.
“Seamus, is all well with Vincent and Wyl?”
“Vincent endured on ordeal he has yet to speak of,” Seamus said carefully. He had been so caught up with the love of his Chosen that he had failed to follow up his concern for his brothers of the heart.
“I am…worried for Wyl,” Delfin whispered, unsure of how to voice his fears.
“Vincent would never hurt Wyl,” Seamus said vehemently. “Never. However, I have been so wrapped up in my own happiness I have neglected the others of my family. I will speak to Vincent, Petal. Don’t let it worry you.” He nuzzled against Delfin’s temple and then cupped the exquisite face to kiss his mate.
Pushing his worry aside, the Dryad let Seamus’ love wash over him. If Seamus said it would be well, then he was sure he should accept it. However, a small niggle of concern remained at the periphery of his mind.
“Let’s go back, Petal,” Seamus crooned as darkness began to fall. He had made up his mind to speak to Vincent the next morning. Little had been seen of either he or Wyl since Vincent had all but manhandled Wyl from the room the previous day. He wondered if perhaps they had let things go on too long. He was still sure that there was nothing to actually concern them greatly over Vincent’s erratic behaviour. However, it was time his brother-of-the-heart spoke and purged himself of whatever was still troubling him.
“Are you coming to bed?” Delfin asked as they returned to the suite. He hoped Gabriel and David were still in their living room and thought to join them unless his lover was ready to sleep.
“Not yet,” Seamus smiled. “Go and see who is still up and about. I need to contact Liam briefly and then I will be along.”
Delfin nodded, watching as the golden Vampire disappeared into their room. He turned to pass Vincent and Wyl’s room on the way to the lounge.
****
Vincent tossed restlessly. He had gone to bed early, intending to speak to his family the next morning. He and Wyl had spent most of the day in bed, the older Vampire almost unable to let his Chosen move from his arms. He knew things had gone on far too long. He was not sure exactly what he was going to tell them. ‘I have waking dreams about a non-existent demon.’ He thought morosely.
“Hardly imagination, Vincent,” the seductive voice came from the side of the bed furthest from the door. Vincent’s head twisted to see the demon beside him. This time it was fully erect, its tails rubbing suggestively over the engorged organ that pointed at him, seemingly pinning him in place. “I know how much you want me. You want this.”
Vincent felt frozen as the demon straddled him. He could not understand how the creature could avoid being detected by his brethren. It was impossible if it was real and not some twisted imagining on his part, yet it felt real. He gave a muted sound of distress as a hot hand pulled open his shirt to tease a nipple to hardness, touching in a way that sent heated ripples to his swelling groin. It was not possible. It was not possible. The demon’s touches seemed to know exactly where and how to excite him most. Cool air on hot flesh had him twist and groan a denial.
His shirt had been parted enough to expose the peaked nipple and his erection was upstanding proclaiming his betrayal of his Chosen. He could not, would not permit it. Wyl was everything to him and he would not betray him even with some kind of perverted waking nightmare. Summoning his strength he bucked and twisted, throwing the demon off. He lay panting as if he had fought an army.
Delfin heard the sounds from Wyl and Vincent’s bedroom; sounds that seemed distressed. He tapped and hesitated before opening the door. He could only see Vincent who was on the bed, turned away from the door.
“Vincent, are you well?” he asked as he moved into the room. Getting no response he came to stand at the far side of the bed. “Vincent?” Hesitatingly his hand came out to touch the Vampire’s shoulder. He gave a shrill cry as Vincent rolled to his back and clamped a strong hand about his wrist.
“Vincent?”
Another voice had both men looking towards the doorway. David and Wyl stood, their faces shocked and Vincent gave a soul-deep groan of pain and denial as Wyl fled and David followed after.
Delfin whimpered softly, understanding why his friend had run as he looked down with wide eyes at the blond Vampire that still held him. Vincent’s shirt was opened, revealing the dusting of golden fur. But, worse yet, was the half-hard organ over which it seemed his hand was hovering. He began to shake, keening with a mix of fear and shock. Vincent’s grip vanished as did the Vampire himself, a cry of anguish in his wake as he fled through the bedroom window. Not knowing what else to do or who else to turn to, Delfin ran to Seamus.
****
Shakily, Seamus edged into their lounge. His Chosen stood so closely behind him it was as if they were one entity. He glanced at Gabriel who shook his head.
“Vincent has gone and not yet returned.” The Lycan turned to look at where David cradled Wyl on his lap. The dark and blond heads bowed together.
“Delfin…” Seamus started, but did not know how to continue. His lover had brokenly told him of what had happened, of how it must have appeared to Wyl. His Chosen was terrified, fearing Seamus’ anger and rejection as well as that of those he had come to love and trust as his family.
“Wyl does not believe Delfin and Vincent…” Gabriel started, his face betraying his disgust at even attempting to suggest more. “It was just the final catalyst that drove him to seek our help. He has been troubled about Vincent and his mate’s behaviour since his rescue, but believed the fault lay with himself.”
“Why would,” Seamus began, then stopped himself. “He blamed himself for his step-father’s actions; of course he would blame himself in this situation. I should have acted sooner.”
“You are not to blame either,” Gabriel growled. “David was concerned for the little one, but I assured him Vincent just needed time.”
“Delfin was also concerned,” Seamus said with a wry smile. “Perhaps we should listen more to our mates.”
“Delfin?”
Wyl’s voice caused the two bigger males to look over to where the slender brunette now sat up. Tears were clear on the young man’s visage, but there was also a look of relief at having unburdened himself of his fears. He gave a shaky smile as Delfin tentatively peeked from behind Seamus’ solid frame. A soft cry escaped the Dryad’s lips before he flung himself towards the arm that opened in invitation. Gabriel and Seamus smiled softly as somehow the three slender males managed to fit onto the one chair.
“Seamus,” Gabriel took hold of the Vampire’s arm and tugged him outside the room. “We do not know what Marcus did to make it seem as though Vincent died. Nor do we know what effect that has had on him. He is not himself, that much Wyl volunteered easily. However, even he cannot vocalise just what is wrong. I have a friend who is a mage and a demon-master. I want to go and speak to him. Perhaps he may have some insight into how we can help Vincent.”
“Go,” Seamus encouraged. “I will try and find Vincent and bring him home.”
****
Vincent stood on the top of one of the highest buildings in the city. He stared outwards with unseeing eyes. Instinct told him Seamus was behind him and he slowly turned to face the other Vampire.
“The others?” he asked.
“They have gone to a friend of Gabriel’s,” Seamus explained. “Now I have found you, we can join them.”
“Wyl?” Vincent whispered shakily.
“Waiting for you,” Seamus replied. “He is still your Chosen, Vincent.”
“I have treated him so badly,” Vincent ground out, his voice reflected his anguish. “I never meant to hurt him, Seamus, never.”
“I believe you,” Seamus husked. “As will he. Let us go, Vincent,” Seamus urged, squeezing his friend’s upper arm.
Vincent stared at him for long moments and Seamus began to fear the other Vampire was going to refuse. It looked as though Vincent was waging some kind of inner battle.
“I love Wyl. Only Wyl,” Vincent whispered, his voice sounding more like a plea than a statement.
“Then show me, my friend. Prove yourself by joining me and going to him.” Seamus held out his hand. He almost sagged in relief as Vincent took it, clasping tightly. Seamus fought the impulse to shiver. Wyl had mentioned a chill that seemed to be present when Vincent was not acting himself. Now that chill was evident even to one without Sensitive qualities. He prayed they were not too late, for the sakes of two men he loved almost as much as his own Chosen. Wrapping Vincent in a tight embrace Seamus took to the air.
****
Seamus guided them to a small, innocuous house at the end of a sparsely occupied, winding road on the outskirts of their town. He glanced at his brother of the heart. Vincent looked pale, tired and Seamus wished he had acted, done something, anything, to have helped sooner. However, he pushed the thoughts away. Regrets could serve no purpose. Vincent was here, as he had promised Gabriel. He had no idea what the Lycan had uncovered, but he was certain that the need to bring Vincent here meant he had some kind of plan.
“Ah, Seamus, Vincent, welcome, welcome. My name is Gawain and you are both welcome in my home and to my care as your host.”
Seamus stared at the small, slender, elderly man that opened the door to them. He was hardly what Seamus had envisioned, but before he could say anything, a strong hand had gripped his wrist and pulled him, and Vincent, inside.
“You family are all in here. They’ll be very glad to see you,” Gawain smiled ushering them into his house and down a dimmed hallway.
Seamus wondered if Vincent was as equally dazed by the incessant babbling of the small man. The Vampire could not even begin to follow half of what was said, it was spoken quietly and so quickly and, seemingly, without the man pausing for breath.
They were led into what appeared to be a sitting room. Large, comfortable paisley-print chairs had been set around a circular table. Seamus’ keen eyes took in candles and crystals that formed another circle around his family. The chattering man who still held tightly to Vincent’s forearm was clearly more than he seemed to be. The fire in an ornate marble place seemed to flare more brightly as he led Vincent towards Wyl.
As Vincent was led into the centre of the circle, the Vampire collapsed in the older man’s arms. Seamus was amazed the slight frame could effortlessly support the bigger man.
“Seamus, remove the table and then take Wyl’s seat. Wyl, I need you here.” Gawain’s voice had lost its reedy, high-pitched quality. Instead a commanding, baritone took its place.
“What can I do?” Wyl asked, helping support his unconscious mate, his face pale with anxiety.
“Do you love him? Are you willing to fight for him?” Gawain asked sombrely
“Yes,” Wyl replied. “Anything. I would die for him,” he added passionately.
“Then let us begin the fight.”
Wyl gasped as Gawain gripped his shoulder and he felt himself shift. The sensation was enough for him to close his eyes for a second and when he opened them he stared. He was no longer in Gawain’s house. He was not in any house or building. He did not know where he was. The landscape was like a wilderness of hard ground, large stones and leafless, spiny shrubs and everything was in varying shades of blue. He glanced at Gawain and himself. He gave a gasp as he saw they were also blue.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“I suppose you could call this Vincent’s personal hell,” Gawain explained. “This is where he feels he belongs. Somewhere cold and hostile, without any comfort or hope.”
“Why?”
The word was a whisper of pure anguish and Gawain turned to face the young Vampire.
“The creature we face does not realise it, but I know all that has passed between it and Vincent. Marcus forced Vincent to experience being raped by a demon. It did not happen physically, but the memory remains and it has eaten deep into Vincent’s psyche, his soul. He feels tainted. I do not know what the creature we face is, it hides itself using Vincent as a shield, but the form you will see is not its true self. It is the representation of Marcus’ mental manifestation. This thing is feeding on Vincent’s fear and self-loathing. He feels he has betrayed you. As a Vampire, Vincent could sustain this creature for centuries and so it is determined to keep him.”
“It’s not going to have him,” Wyl said with determination. “Vincent did not turn away from me when I thought I was tainted. I will not desert him, no matter what happened. I know he loves me. He loves me as much as I love him.”
“It will use more than just force, my friend,” Gawain warned. “It will not be an easy fight. Somehow you need Vincent to want to leave here, to resume his place at your side and feel deserving of your love. You have two battles to win.”
“Whatever it takes,” Wyl growled. “Vincent is mine and I won’t leave him here.”
“Then let us find him and bring him home,” Gawain nodded.
It did not take long to find Vincent. The blond Vampire knelt, head bent, at the feet of a huge, red-skinned demon. Where Vincent, like Gawain and himself, was in shades of blue, the demon stood out as starkly red. Wyl tensed. This was his adversary. This was what had been trying to come between him and his husband. Wyl recognised the chill it emanated. It was the remnant Wyl had been feeling when with Vincent. It was distinct from the other senses of coldness he had experienced when there was evil present. A part of him distantly wondered if the cold he could sense was as individual as the evil he faced.
“Vincent still resists the creature, but his ability weakens with each passing moment he is here. You must reclaim that which is yours. The power to defeat this thing lies within both of you. I cannot challenge it without risking destroying Vincent.”
“Vincent belongs with me,” Wyl murmured determinedly. “I’m bringing him back where he belongs.” He began to advance towards his lover, ignoring the red demon as much as he was able. He only stopped moving when the demon took its own step towards him.
“He’s mine now, pretty-boy,” it said, its voice a low seductive purr.
“He’ll never be yours,” Wyl countered instantly. “He’s mine.”
“Really?” the tone was dismissive. “I’ve known him in ways you never have.”
The barb still hurt even though Wyl knew the truth. He lifted his jaw determinedly.
“You have never known him at all,” he retorted, remembering Gawain’s words. “You were never there, just Vincent and the rogue mage.”
The strength of Wyl’s words sent the demon back a step and Vincent’s head slowly raised as if a great weight had lifted.
“Vincent,” Gawain’s voice reached him despite the distance that separated them. “You must put your trust in Wyl and come to me. You must break free of the demon’s power over you and there you are too close, too easy to remain under its sway. Come to me, my friend.”
It seemed to Vincent that it was the most difficult thing ever asked of him as he tried to crawl to Gawain. He was peripherally aware that his beloved Wyl was fighting hand-to-hand with the demon, but he was incapable of doing anything more than keep inching forwards on his hands and knees. As he kept up his dogged movements, it seemed as though some colour other than blue was visible around Gawain and that seems to infuse a little more strength into his barely functioning limbs.
It felt like an eternity before Gawain’s hand was on his shoulder. A frisson passed through his body imbuing warmth through Vincent. It strengthened him more and, with help from Gawain, he struggled to his feet. He stared into the eyes of the man before him, certain that there was something far older and more powerful hidden behind the innocuous exterior.
“Yes, Vincent.” The Vampire heard the words in his head and his eyes widened. “I am more than you see. For me to try and destroy your adversary would destroy you in the process. It draws its strength from you and found a way to use you to pass from the demon world into the mortal world where it hid within you. This is not its true form. It picked this shape because you fear it. Break that fear and you break its link and it can no longer hide in you or feed on you. It becomes vulnerable. Wyl cannot win alone.”
Vincent turned his attention to his mate and Wyl’s fight with the red demon. Wyl’s shirt was torn from his body and red welts streaked across his exposed back and chest from the whip-like tails. The Vampire could see no sign that Wyl’s attack had weakened or had any other effect on the demon. He felt a potent mix of love and anger well up from deep within his soul. Wyl still loved him. Wyl was fighting for him. Live or die, vanquishers or defeated, they belonged together. Wyl was as much a part of him as he was a part of his Chosen.
“I won’t let it hurt him anymore,” Vincent growled. “I should have been honest in the beginning.” He looked at Gawain. “You know, don’t you?” he asked. There was a mixture of sympathy and strength in eyes where the colours shifted and swirled like a kaleidoscope.
“Yes and so does Wyl. In his words you did not think him tainted and he knows you did nothing to try and break your bond with him. Together you can defeat the beast he battles. Alone, neither of you can win.”
Turning back towards the combatants Vincent gave a low, feral growl. Nothing and no one would take Wyl from him. Not while he lived. With a primal bellow of fury he sped from Gawain to his struggling Chosen. He saw the demon push Wyl aside, ready for Vincent’s attack.
It never came.
At the last second, Vincent veered away from the creature and enveloped Wyl in his arms. They spiralled upwards, beyond the reach of the demon’s thrashing tails.
“Vincent.” The single word murmured from Wyl’s lips held all the love the younger Vampire felt for his mate. He tried to infuse his feelings into Vincent to let the bigger man know Wyl’s heart was still his and always would be.
“Forgive me, forgive me,” Vincent begged his Chosen but his litany of pleas were silenced as Wyl’s lips found his. Vincent opened his mouth inviting Wyl inside, moaning his approval as the younger man’s tongue thrust eagerly inside. Vincent kept tight hold of his mate with one hand as the other caressed bare skin. He felt his mate’s love warm and strengthen him. He sobbed into Wyl’s neck, nuzzling, letting all his fear and shame go. He could hear Wyl murmuring words of love and devotion and his strength grew incrementally.
“Feed from me, my love,” Wyl urged. “Let me help you.” A soft tongue licked over this throat as Wyl arched his head back offering himself to his lover. Sharp teeth broke the fragile skin and Wyl felt strong suction. It had been too long since Vincent had fed from him and the younger Vampire steeled himself against the pressure that bordered on pain as his mate took that which he needed.
Vincent clutched tightly to the most precious thing he possessed. He tasted his Chosen’s unwavering love and loyalty and a strength he had never truly appreciated in the sweet mix. He clutched tighter, realising Wyl held him just as securely. Wyl would never let him go. The knowledge flowed through him, permeating every cell and synapse, warming him, empowering him. He crushed Wyl closer, the younger Vampire matching him strength for strength. Finally he licked closed the small wounds, not willing to deplete his beloved. As he did, he became aware of the shrieks of anguish from the creature below.
The two Vampires stared down at the tableau below them. The demon was no longer red but a shifting montage of colour and its shape ebbed and flowed, diminishing with each passing second. It was enveloped in a silvery light that emanated from Gawain. The old man’s own shape was blurred although to Vincent’s eyes it seemed that he was bigger, younger and yet there was a sense of seeing something ancient and powerful. As the creature vanished from sight, Vincent and Wyl descended to stand by Gawain.
“It is done.”
The voice, reverberated with strength, but as Wyl and Vincent turned to look at Gawain, the world around them vanished. They were back In Gawain’s house and the elderly man was smiling.
“It’s over,” he announced to the four anxious faces that leant eagerly forward. “Now I am going to make some tea and you, my boy,” he added patting Vincent’s arm. “You are going to tell your family what happened to you and unburden the last of your soul.”
****
Entwined naked in each other’s arms, Vincent and Wyl’s focus was on one another, touching tenderly as if it was their first time making love.
“Feed from me, my Own,” Vincent pleaded. He moaned as his Chosen’s teeth bit gently against his throat, the younger Vampire suckling softly. He held tightly to the most precious thing in his life.
“I am here, my love,” Wyl said tenderly as he licked the small wounds closed. “Forever, I promise.”
“I am so sorry for the way I treated you. I was blind to what I was doing to you,” Vincent husked.
“Shhh,” Wyl kissed Vincent gently and pulled him closer. “Mistakes were made by all of us, but we will all learn from them and become stronger and closer. Gabriel and Seamus have said they will pay more attention when David and Delfin are concerned. They were so used to you being strong.”
“But you were the strong one, beloved,” Vincent whispered. “Your strength saved me, your strength and your love. “I ache to join with you,” Vincent added, pulling Wyl even closer so they seemed to share the same breath. “I want to make love to you.”
Wyl’s heart responded to the depths of the emotion he could feel in his mate; love, longing, fear, doubt.
“I want the feel of your body in mine,” Wyl husked. “Love me, Vincent.”
Vincent rolled, covering Wyl’s body with his own. The younger man welcomed him with body, soul and mind.
“I can feel your love for me,” Wyl sighed.
Vincent coaxed a soft moan from Wyl as he allowed his Chosen to feel the physical proof of his need.
“Please, Vincent,” Wyl writhed, trying to lift his legs and offer his aching void to his mate.
“Gently, love,” Vincent crooned. He wanted this to be special. He urged Wyl to kneel astride his chest. Vincent placed his hands on Wyl’s hips and pulled him forward. He waited for Wyl to hold the headboard as Vincent took his beloved’s hard flesh into his mouth.
Wyl threw back his head and voiced his pleasure at the feel of his lover’s tongue rippling along his shaft. He caressed Vincent’s hair, murmuring words of love and encouragement. He whimpered as he was pulled further forward and then Vincent’s mouth was at his portal that clenched and relaxed, eager for the flesh that would fill the narrow straight and complete him. The younger Vampire cried aloud at the feel of Vincent’s tongue stabbing into him. As the stimulation continued, Wyl voiced his ecstasy. He felt Vincent’s tongue withdraw and he felt bereft and empty. Moving quickly, he lay back on the bed, pulling his legs back at the knees so that his body was open to Vincent’s hot, hungry gaze.
Vincent’s eyes burned at the sight and he moved between the opened thighs, situating himself at the wetted threshold of Wyl’s body.
“I love you more than I can ever tell you,” the blond Vampire vowed as he locked his smouldering sapphire orbs with those of searing sienna. Vincent pushed carefully into his Chosen and they both moaned at the bliss of the union. He moved slowly at first, wanting to prolong Wyl’s pleasure, but it seemed his mate had other ideas. He groaned as slender hips thrust eagerly upwards, the tight channel flexing and relaxing around his rigid rod, demanding it release the seed within. In response to Wyl’s need, Vincent increased the speed and depth of his stroke.
He reached between their undulating bodies and grasped the hardened flesh that leaked against Wyl’s stomach. He began to stroke in time with his thrusts, guiding them towards a mutual release. Their minds connected as completely as their bodies, each man’s arousal increasing and feeding the other’s as they spiralled upwards. They climaxed simultaneously, their voices harmonising at the pleasure as Vincent’s hot seed found its home in Wyl’s welcoming depths.
Still vibrating with the force of his climax, Vincent rolled to his back taking Wyl with him. The younger Vampire lay panting with his head pillowed on Vincent’s chest. The blond toyed with his beloved’s hair as, for the first time in an age, all was right with his world. He waited until Wyl smiled up at him and drew his mate into a long, deep kiss.
“There is one more thing I need of you, my Chosen,” he whispered.
“Anything,” Wyl replied.
“Be inside me. None in my past have ever known me this way and when I experienced Marcus’ depravity I realised I had even withheld this part of me from you, my Chosen, my Own. I want to feel you in me; I want your seed in me. I want you to fill the last empty space in my soul where you have always belonged.”
“I have no experience,” Wyl whispered. “I might hurt you.”
“Prepare me as I used to prepare you. If you need guidance I will provide it. I need this Wyl.”
Kissing Vincent gently, Wyl accepted the oil the older Vampire retrieved from their bedside locker. It seemed an eternity ago that Wyl needed oiling and stretching. He gazed anxiously into Vincent’s eyes as another thought struck him.
“I remain your Alpha, my love,” Vincent assured. “I will still love you as I have always done. But occasionally I will need you in me.”
Wyl let out a breath he had not known he held. He could not have borne the notion that he would never again experience Vincent making love with him and feeling the powerful Vampire enter and fill him. Slowly, carefully, he prepared himself and his lover, just as Vincent had done with him, so many times in the past. He marvelled at the way Vincent’s body easily accommodated his ministrations. His fingers eased inside the searing tightness until Vincent reached to stop the questing digits.
“Now,” the blond husked.
Positioning himself, Wyl lined up his oiled and resurrected shaft pressing against Vincent’s entrance and pushed gently.
Without result.
Wondering what he was doing wrong, Wyl continued to rub the tip of his rod against Vincent, as if he were deliberately delaying, extending their foreplay. He repositioned himself, changing the angle of entry slightly.
Still without result.
“Sorry, Vincent ,” Wyl whispered.
Realising his mate’s problem, Vincent reached between their bodies. He curled his fingers around Wyl’s member, positioned it…
“Push!” he growled, thrusting his hips upwards.
Obeying instantly, Wyl pushed and felt Vincent’s body yielding. A little additional pressure and he slid easily into Vincent’s body. His breath became shallow pants as Vincent tightened around him. He leant down until his body was pressed against Vincent’s and kissed frantically as the bigger man clasped his buttocks and pulled him impossibly closer. He lay motionless for a moment, feeling an almost unbearable responsibility, aware of his total lack of experience with this form of lovemaking.
“It’s alright, my love,” Vincent encouraged, seeing the fear and doubt beginning to surface. “It feels so good to have you in me. Your body knows what to do, just let it happen, my Own.”
With an undulation, Wyl felt his flesh move in the tight channel. It was as nothing he had ever known before. He moved a little more, until he was rocking gently, Vincent voicing a litany of love, praise and pleasure. Wyl bent and licked a nipple and Vincent moaned, arching into the caress. It gave him confidence to move more forcefully. He began thrusting, but even more slowly than Vincent had taken him, single-mindedly concentrating on rubbing against Vincent’s prostate bringing pleasure to the man he loved.
Whispered gasps that Vincent vocalised made him relax and soon he was thrusting in slow, even, deep strokes that delighted them both. He was aware of the swollen erection between them, hoping that the friction between their bellies was enough stimulation for the tumescent organ for the moment.
“Love you,” he murmured. “Vincent, I love you.” With each repetition of his vow he thrust deeper, wanting to bury himself completely inside his husband. He wanted to become an indelible part of Vincent’s soul just as he knew Vincent was a part of his.
“Yes, my love, yes, yes,” Vincent groaned. His mate might be virgin to being inside another, but his shaft rubbed Vincent’s sweet spot perfectly. The older Vampire knew he would need just a little more stimulation to reach his zenith. “Touch me, my Chosen, touch me,” he husked.
Whimpering, Wyl reached between them, trying to maintain his rhythm as he took hold of Vincent’s hardness. He gave a cry as his lover’s inner muscles began to contact and relax around him. He was only aware of the motion of their bodies, heat, need, love all coalescing into a single sensation that was beyond his capacity to resist. With a scream he came, pouring his essence into his mate.
Vincent gave a strangled cry and climaxed, his semen spurting powerfully between their bodies as he felt pulse after pulse of Wyl’s seed coat him, claiming him. His muscles tightened fiercely, almost painfully tightly, around Wyl’s flesh, milking it of all his beloved’s precious crème.
As they lay in a satiated afterglow, a part of Vincent mourned that it had taken so long, and such circumstances, to have reached that level of completion. However, he would no longer dwell on the past. Wyl was still buried in him, still a part of him, even when passion and desire was spent, and Vincent focused on the soul-deep satisfaction that gave him.
“Feed from me,” Wyl murmured against Vincent’s neck. He did not resist as he was rolled, Vincent’s channel gripping his softening organ tenaciously to keep them joined, so that his mate loomed over him. The familiar and favoured position had an added eroticism as he remained deep in Vincent’s body. He angled his throat, signalling his willing submission and moaned softly as sharp teeth imbedded in his fragile flesh. This time Vincent’s dominance was laced with love and tenderness and Wyl’s heart and soul rejoiced.
As Vincent licked closed the small wounds, Wyl’s flesh finally slid from his body and Vincent briefly mourned the physical loss. However the feeling of Wyl as a part of him remained and he smiled at his Chosen.
“Yours,” he said, nuzzling and nipping at Wyl’s collarbone.
“Yours,” Wyl echoed.
It was as it should be, they were each an essential part of the other.