a.connor  a.doyle  a.lindsey  a.oz  a.spike  a.wesley  a.xander  a.other  three.somes  het.fic  character.study           
Title: An Apt Pupil  
Author: Bridie
Pairing: Angelus/Penn
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Historical
 

I'm running a finger along the edge of my cooling
coffee cup.  The smell in this place is enough to
drive me out, but I'll wait.  London's unwashed masses
gathering in one of its poorer coffee houses to drink
bitter brew and pretend themselves intellectuals.
Amidst this crowd I've found a true gem.  He'll be
here tonight, I've no doubt.  My grey-eyed lad.

Two weeks since I first saw my prey sitting here, for
prey is what I believed him to be.  Hair spilling
softly around that ridiculous plain collar he wears,
falling into his eyes.  God, those eyes.  I've seen
them clouded in thought, then suddenly flash to
piercing intensity as he gathers his wits for a verbal
attack.  But last night I saw them heavy lidded with
lust, dazed with a passion he can't quite give a name
to yet.  I yearn to see that look again.

Two weeks of careful seduction.  It's my game and I
don't like being rushed.  But the boy is just visiting
here with his father, the first time he's been allowed
out of that careful paternal grasp.  I don't have much
time left, and this one requires all my skill.

I draw him into conversation in this smoky coffee
house.  Letting him rant in his quiet way about
politics and religion.  Religion.  That gets him
riled.  I can see the blood rushing just under the
surface, suffusing those cheeks with color.  I cock my
head and listen, just so, to hear him draw in breath
as he launches into a tirade that would rival his
father's sermons.  I mentioned this to him once and
was rewarded with a look so furious I leaned into its
heat and just smiled.  I don't care what gets you this
worked up, boy, I just enjoy the effect it has on your
body.  So I taunt.  I argue.  And lately, I've
touched.

Subtle touches that make me laugh at my memories of
swinging barmaids onto my lap for a quick grope.  A
quarter of a century under Darla's firm tutelage has
taught me finesse.  And so much more.  She's left me
to my own devises while she visits the Master at
Court.  I wonder what she would make of this game I'm
playing?  Probably laugh in that beautiful, bell like
voice of hers and ask me how he kisses as she lays her
lips to mine.  Ask me for the texture of his skin as
she runs her small hands up my back.  And I would tell
her everything.

How the first time I brushed the hair from his
forehead, so I could see those eyes again, he
flinched.  And his look felt like random sunlight.
And when I grasped his hands to still them as he
argued, I could feel his entire body shiver.  Could
count the heartbeats it took him to pull back and
remember himself.  Remember where we were.  But best
of all I can imagine the sweet smile on my Sire's face
when I tell her of the kiss.  How walking through the
cobbled streets listening to him fume about his father
it suddenly seemed like the right time.  To pull him
into a darkened alley, not quite struggling for he,
somehow, blindly trusted his new strange friend.  I
pushed my body against his, shoving him roughly
against the stone wall.  I remember laughing at the
transparent thoughts that flitted over his face.
Robbery?  But he's obviously wealthier than I.
Assault?  No room for that.   I rubbed my length
against him in agreement, no room at all.  And then.
Realization.

"Why?"  He asked in a breathless voice that I could
see him curse at inwardly.

A good student always asks questions.  So I answered
with my mouth.  Pressed against his.  He was awkward
at first, and I spared a moment to wonder if he'd ever
kissed another person, or worse, if his mind was going
to let him deny him what I knew his body wanted.  What
his body had told me in a hundred stolen glances and
subtle clues.  But a moment was all it took, and
suddenly I found myself not pushing, but holding.
Those smooth lips parting under mine as I swallowed
his gasp of surprise and my tongue slipped in.  Into
heat.  Felt his body shake violently as he seemed to
cast off twenty years of conditioning and just give
in.  Suddenly open to me, that mouth blooming and
welcoming under my tongue.  Then I felt it.  Those red
lips closing around me, teeth grazing gently as he
just sucked.  What a clever, clever lad.

The sudden clatter of horseshoes on the street
startled him enough to pull back.  I expected to see
shame and fear and regret but the face tilted up to
mine reflected back none of that.  Instead I saw the
gaze I want to always see there.  Utter contentment
and absolute wonder.

When I suggested it was past time for him to get home
to his father I was delighted at the flash of anger in
his eyes.  I don't think I could ever tire of this
one.  I lightened his look with a swift and hard kiss.
Promising more 'conversation' tomorrow.

So here I sit.  The memory of that kiss has me licking
my lips thoughtfully when I see him stride in.  Full
of purpose.  Full of anger.  I feel a flash of
protectiveness at whatever nameless demon has my lad
so flushed.  Because that's my new vocation, and I
will not share.

With the self absorbed passion only youth possesses he
throws himself into the chair opposite me.  Those gray
eyes flashing around the room, landing anywhere but on
me.  This will not do.

"What is it, lad?  What has ye so bothered ye've no
greeting for a friend?"

I have him.  Calling him out on a breach of manners.
Simple, but it means something to him.  I see him
pause in some internal rant, "Why bother with a
greeting when my next words must be a farewell?"

I'm angry now.  First I've suffered through a
timetable on my hunt and now this?

"Running from me, are you?  Did I shock yer Puritan
sensibilities as badly as all that?"

God, he's blushing, and I know it's not from shame.  I
can see his hands fretting with the newspaper on the
table, and for some reason my eloquent boy can't find
the words to speak to me.

Something so low and needing and desperate in his
voice when he finally manages to whisper the words,
"No·I would never run from ye, Angelus."  Oh you would
if you knew what I was, knew exactly what it was I
wanted from you.  What I will get.

He's so earnest now, a fall of messy brown hair across
his forehead as he leans towards me.  "I'd not give
your friendship up for the world, or
your·conversation."  I want to see more of that blush,
child.  "But my father·He·We must leave tomorrow."

Ah·there it is.  The boy knows so little of the world
that he still believes his father holds it in the palm
of his hand.  The preacher no doubt believes it too
and senses his grip on his son shaken by his
experiences in this wicked city.  If he only knew·But
they're both wrong.  I hold that power.

This one, so young, so eager, so close to being mine.
The words are pouring out of him now, his usual logic
and control forgotten.

"Ye have shown me so much.  The stories ye tell!  I
long to have such adventures.  To see the world.  See
strange places.  But I will live and die hours from
this city, following in my father's footsteps.
Tending his flock of sheep, spewing words at them I
don't believe.  I could almost bear it.  Could almost
keep lying to myself·except now·I wish to God I'd
never met ye!"

"You don't mean that, lad."  I give in to the urge to
brush his unruly hair from his face, and can't help
the smile I feel as he leans in to my touch.  Such
pain in his gaze, and that makes me smile harder.  I
want to just suck all that human misery and self doubt
out of him and fill him back up with my own strength.
Take the ability that's already in him and forge it
into iron.  Feed him the knowledge he lacks and watch
those eyes widen with the realization of his own
power.  Power that belongs to me.  That's what I want.
That's what I'll have.  I have chosen this one.

"Penn, lad, ye'll not be leavin with yer father."

Those eyes, sharp on me, "I won't?"

"No·ye'll be stayin'.  With me."

Wonder, not disbelief tinges his voice, "Staying.
With ye."

"Aye."

Spark of defiance, "Just like that?  Ye think I'll
leave my family and take up with ye?  Good God, man, I
don't even really know ye!  I don't know how ye live,
where ye live·do ye mean to keep me like some·whore?"
The last word breathed low past patrician lips.

I can't help but sit back and laugh at the look on his
face.

"Ye've never asked about me before, lad.  But to
answer yer questions, I do quite well.  My business is
something of a·family concern, and there's a place
there for ye.  An' aye, you'll be leaving yer family
for me, an' gladly too, I'll warrant.  Lastly, my home
is not far from here, for I've an urge to push ye
against bed clothes an' not a stone wall."

I can almost feel his mind processing my words, the
frown leaving his face.  If I had breath left in my
body it would fail me at his smile. With a hard
swallow of his throat my eyes are captured, following
the bobbing motion covered by his plain collar.  I
consider buying him some coffee just to watch him do
that again.

"Ye'll begin my adventures, then?  Take me with ye?"

"Anythin' ye ask·everythin'."  And I'll take the same
from him.  Nothing he won't give willingly.

His answer is clear enough in his face, and it only
takes me a moment to guide him through the crowd and
out the door.  I resist the urge to grab him and run
through the streets to my door.  I settle for a brisk
pace that he eagerly keeps up with, trying manfully to
match my longer stride.

Finally, we're inside and he's following me up the
stairs to my bedroom.  Not the one I share with Darla.
He's not ready for that bit of information yet.

He's laughing and out of breath and beyond beautiful
in his happiness.  With a look of triumph he turns to
me, "I will never have to see my father again!  Never
listen to his tired sermons.  Never take another
beating."  He is standing just inside the doorway,
eyes shining with dreams of what small promises I've
made to him.  He has no idea.

"You may be seein' your dear father sooner than ye
think, lad."

He misunderstands me, "Ye'd force me back to him?"
The question breathed like a curse.

My thumb presses along his fine jaw as I cup his face,
"Nay, Penn·yer mine now.  But family holds something
we all need.  Blood calls to blood, whether in love or
hate, and ye have to heed that call.  If'n ye go back
to see yer father, I'll be by yer side."

That gentle brow furrowed in thought brings me back to
my purpose, and I lean forward to brush my lips across
his.  I'll let him lead the dance for a moment, and my
student proves worthy, those lush lips pressed tightly
to mine.  He parts them with a gasp as he feels my
tongue questing towards his, and I want to swallow
every sound he makes.  Those long fingers are wrapped
in my hair, pulling out the tie, trying to draw me in
further.  Hungry whimpers from my boy as I suckle none
too gently on his tongue, my own hands pressing into
his hips, pulling him just so·there.  His head hits
the door with a loud thump as our clothed erections
meet.  The look of shock on his face is priceless,
those bruised lips forming a perfect 'O' of surprise.
I let the slow grind of our bodies sink in, watching
his face, relishing his newness.

"I thought·" he searches for breath and for words, "I
thought ye said something about bed clothes this
time."

Does his brain never stop?  I silence that sweet mouth
with a wet kiss, pulling back to answer, "Aye·that I
did.  Just warming ye to the thought."

"God!" he breathes in sweet innocence, "I don't think
I can get much warmer!" His hands reach down to grasp
mine, "But ye, Angelus·ye need some warming."

I watch, transfixed as he takes my hands, rubbing them
between his own, heating my skin with his friction.
Slowly he brings the fingers of one hand to his face,
leaning into my touch, his mouth ghosting over my skin
like a moths' wings.  I watch, I wait, knowing the
speed at which his mind analyzes as those lips press
against my wrist.  He senses the wrongness and stills.
Rough fingers replace lips.  Pressing, seeking for a
pulse they can never find.

And I see it.  The father in the son.  Eyes dark with
fear and a hundred dread names for what he thinks.
"What are you?"

I could laugh out loud for the ignorance of the world,
but right now all I want is this boy, and I want him
as eager and open as he was a moment ago, not
struggling as he is now in my grasp.

"What do you think I am, Penn?"  Knowing I can capture
his mind as surely as I've pinned his body.

Fierce eyes.  Studying me.  I'll swallow this
attention too.  I'm greedy.  I'll take it all.

'Ye are incredibly strong."  He gives me a rough shove
that doesn't even register against my bulk.

"How old are ye?"  He's tilted his head·peering at my
face, hoping to read an answer there.

"More than twice yer age."

"Can I harm ye?"

"Is that what ye want, my boy?" My words breathed
along his throat as I lick his jumping pulse.  "Are ye
after causing me harm?"

"N-no.  But·will ye harm me?"

"Nay·I want to give you the world my gem.  Want to
pour it out before ye and watch ye drink it down."  My
mouth moving now over his cheeks·gentle touch, "Will
ye let me do that lad?  Will ye let go of what ye know
and let me teach ye?"

And this is my bright and wonderful lad, his hands
around my waist, pulling me towards him.  Arching his
neck into my mouth, and who am I to refuse?  Pulling
that wretched bit of cloth from his neck, I sink blunt
teeth into soft skin and suck against the bruise.  The
boy lets out a low moan as I rock my hips into his.

"Show me·please."

I can't remember hearing a sweeter invitation, and
reward him with a wet kiss as I move him back towards
my bed.  The eagerness of youth has him pulling on his
own clothes frantically, kicking off his shoes and he
is suddenly there.  Naked.  Before me.

Easily I push him back onto the bed, his knees bending
and he falls back.  Skin flushed, and I just stare at
the blood rushing under that smooth skin.

"Such a lovely lad."  My eyes drinking in the expanse
of skin laid out before me.

"Lovely?"  That frown again.  "I'm not lovely, ye may
as well call me pretty."  Just a little indignant,
just a little flattered.

"Aye, ye are a pretty one."  I let my body fall
forward over his, catching myself on my hands,
hovering just above him.

"Ye've the sweetest face, yer lips jes beggin' ta be
kissed."  I press my mouth to his to prove the point,
pulling away before he can open to me.  "An a right
wicked tongue for such a novice."

I see him silence his own protest of his innocence.
Good lad, no point in lying to me.

"Yer neck·ah·such bruises I want to leave here.  Mark
ye·let the world know I've been here."  A good hard
suck over the hollow of his throat and his hips are
bucking up, his hardness rubbing against my trousers.
He doesn't know what's he asking for, but his groan
tells me plain enough.

"That's it lad·listen to yer body, it won't lie to ye
about what it needs."

His eyes are shut tight, every nerve straining to know
where I'll touch next.

"These shoulders·it's not the body of a preacher's son
ye have·ye've done hard labor.  Remind me ta thank yer
father for that."

Gray eyes open, and laughing with me, widening in
surprise as I lower my head to his chest.  He can't
voice his protest quickly enough as I latch onto one
brown nipple, flicking my tongue against it as it
hardens.  Shock-sucked air into his lungs and his
hands are scrabbling at my shirt.  His breath moving
against my hair as I fasten onto the nub with teeth
and bear down, eliciting a grunt of pain followed by a
sigh as I nuzzle the tender flesh.

I tug his hands from my clothes and raise myself,
pulling back and resting some of my weight on his
thighs.  It's a delight to watch his mind warring with
what his body feels.  I know which will win, but it's
a pleasure to watch him struggle, to know I hold the
winning arguments in my hands, my lips, my cock.  As
if reading my mind I watch his gaze dart down to his
hard length straining under my crotch.

"Such a pretty cock, isn't it?"  I trail a finger
along the length and feel his body shiver underneath
me.  Transfixed, he watches as I pull back the
delicate skin and press a finger against the moisture
beading at the tip.  I push down harder just to watch
him bite back a cry that turns to a sob as I bring the
finger up to my mouth and lick his liquid from it.

"It's a sweet and pretty cock, ye have there, Penn my
lad."

"Ye·ye *tasted* me!"  I can hear the wonder and
disgust in his voice.  I'll cure him of that.

"Aye·just a taste."  He relaxes at that and I let out
a laugh, "Time enough to drink and suck and swallow
ye."

Such a groan my boy lets out, his body shivering with
it.  "God·"

I'm there, swallowing his sounds, his words, my mouth
feeding on his and I can't kiss him enough.  His body
rubbing beneath me, and I know he needs to breath, but
I need his lips more.  With a gasp he wrenches away,
taking in great lungfuls of air, laughing and
cursing.

"Angelus·God·how can ye·Hell·ye are the devil and ye
are going to kill me·my father warned me·and I don't
care·just·God·please don't stop!"

I lick his earlobe and blow across the wet skin.
"I'll get ye closer to God than yer father ever could,
my gem."

The desire to have him is so strong in me, I can't
help but slide down his body, that sweet length of
flesh just begging for my mouth.  No reason to resist,
and I let my tongue push his foreskin down as I close
my mouth around him.  I move my hands to still the
hips bucking beneath me, his frantic movements just
drive me to suck harder, my tongue teasing as I push
the skin down further.

I take him in deep, feel him moving against the back
of my throat, my nose pressed into the curls at the
base of him.  No one's ever touched him here like
this, I own this moment.  Those whimpers, the tremors
running through his body are all mine.  Every noise
making my own cock throb in anticipation.  I can wait,
I've learned that good things come to those who wait.

Remembering that breathing is good for something I
pull his musky scent in, ignoring the hands pulling at
my hair.  Not stopping my steady suck until I realize
something is wrong.  The timber of his voice is
somehow off.  The fingers wrapped in my hair are
pulling too hard.  The words finally reaching my ears.

"Please·please·stop!  Ye said no harm·ye said·"

Christ, what a broken sound!  In an instant I'm next
to him, cradling him in my arms.  Murmuring what I
hope are calming words and petting his trembling body.

"What, lad?  Ye've nothing to fear."

"Ye left me.  I was alone."  He's trying so hard to
control the shaking, to find his composure.  "I·I want
ye here.  With me."

Ahh·such an innocent!  "I am here, my lovely.  After
tonight, ye'll never be without me.  I promise ye
that."

It's a small thing he asks, and I've no trouble
granting it.  I gently turn him so he's facing me, his
eyes turned up to mine and I understand why he wants
me here.  His first moment of physical love and he
wants to be able to see and feel me.  Tis no trouble
at all.

I bring my hand up to my mouth, dragging my tongue
across it and bring it down between us, grabbing his
hard shaft.  He gasps at this but doesn't look away
from me.  Good boy.  I've got you.

He's young and so hard, his body arches towards me and
I let him alternate between thrusting into my fist and
letting me pull on his length.  His eyes bore into
mine, and I'm not sure what he sees, but he
concentrates on it with such pure fury.  So young and
so hard, it isn't long before I feel his body stiffen,
feel the warm wetness spilling over my fingers.

He's closed his eyes, and I can almost imagine he is
listening to his body, hearing the gentle pulse I feel
in my hand.  When he is finally still, those eyelids
flutter open and I am gifted with the most amazing
smile.  A smile I cannot believe that anyone else has
ever seen, because there was never anyone worthy of
it.  But I am, and I accept it, one of many firsts
he'll give me before this night is done.

His movements are sleepy and sated as those elegant
fingers pluck my shirt aside.  He leans forward and
rubs his smooth face along my exposed skin.  I've had
virgins before.  Willing and otherwise.  But this boy
drowns in each new sensation, and I've no wish to
rescue him.

"Ye really oughtn't to be dressed."  The clarity of
his tone startles me and I look down into laughing
gray eyes.

I feel a half smile play across my face, "No?
Something you want then, lad?"

"To see ye."

I pull myself easily from his arms and rise from the
bed, letting his gaze follow me like a caress.  I
remove my rumpled clothing as I stand before my
dresser, staring at the empty space in the mirror.
I've never missed catching my reflection in the glass,
Darla's lips and eyes have always told me everything
I've needed to know about myself.  But that boy, whose
body moves quietly on the blankets behind me, he is my
reflection in flesh.  I've doubted in the past few
weeks how Darla might feel about coming home to
this·to him.  I smile as I turn back to that warm
body, for I'm now quite sure that this is why she left
me alone in the first place.  To find my self.

My lad's eyes widen a bit as he takes in my form, his
gaze resting on the rather angry looking muscle
curving up from between my legs.  He's not frightened,
just curious as I kneel on the bed before him, tossing
a vial of oil to one side.  He brushes his hair
impatiently from his eyes as he rises to kneel in
front of me, hands hovering uselessly.

"Ye *can* touch me, lad."  I say, a little
impatiently, rewarded with a hot look.  The pride in
this one·so easy to get him riled.  I can see the
'how' hovering on his lips, but his arrogance won't
let it fall.  Instead I find my skin mapped by careful
hands and mouth.  No teeth, but that's something his
nature and I will teach him later.

Those tentative touches shake as his hands move lower
until I find my hardness gripped lightly by warm
fingers.  I let out a hiss as that grip tightens, and
I feel my length jerked roughly.  "Penn!" I gasp as I
look into a wicked grin, his pace not varying.
"Jesus, lad·ye'll finish me off too soon!"

A falter in his pace, "Isn't that·don't ye want that?"

"I'll tell ye what I want, my pretty one."

Time to show him who the master is here, and he finds
himself on his back, my body pressed against him.
Like a cat, he curls into the sensation and I groan as
he pulls a hand to his mouth.  "Just a taste."  He
whispers.

Christ on the cross, he's already a demon!  May Heaven
and Hell never deliver me from this Puritan virgin.

I pull his legs up, bending his knees and lean in,
wanting him to get used to feeling me, feel my
pressure·just there.

"I'll not complete myself in yer hand, boy·"  His
breath is harsh and alive against my throat, "Nay,
I'll bury myself so deep in ye, ye'll not know where
you begin and I end."  A lazy thrust to illustrate my
lesson.

A startled yelp, and he's scooting his body away from
me, trying to pull his legs together.  I do believe
that comprehension has set in.

"Ye'll not!  Ye can't possibly want to·put *that* in
me·there."  The horror of the thought is evident in
his husky tone.  I breathe in the tang of his terror
and smile.  Have I mentioned that I'm an evil bastard?
Well, I am, and eliciting this reaction in anyone,
especially him, is a delight indeed.  God·the
challenge of bending his mind·making him want this·who
wouldn't smile?

I'm pulling his body back under mine, fluttering
kisses along his eyelids, his cheeks, his jaw.
"Shhh·calm yerself my pretty boy.  I've promised ye no
harm·ye must trust me."  I press myself into his
shiver.  "Ye need to forget·need to let go of those
petty human fears."  I thrust down against his
hardening length.  "That's it, lad·feel that pretty
cock of yers sliding against me."

He's moaning now, lost in the sensation, no longer
trying to free himself, and yes·those thighs spreading
beneath me.  "Yer a sweet one·such a young thing.  But
Penn·Penn!"  Gray eyes focus on me again.  "Ye need to
take a risk·this is an adventure after all."

"Risk?"  I'm suddenly so aware of how young he is·how
naïve·how easy to break him, which just makes me press
against him all the harder.

"Aye my gem·precious·it'll hurt a bit.  But I swear
the pleasure you felt before'll be nothing compared to
what I can give ye."

"I'm afraid."  The admission pulled from him like
something painful and fragile.

"I know."  Did I just purr?

"Will ye stop?"  He gasps as our foreskins slide
across each other, "Will ye stop if I ask?"

A low laugh crawls out from me,  "Ye'll not ask that,
lad.  Ye'll beg me *not* to."

I pull him onto his side, drawing one strong leg
across me as I reach for the oil.  Simple enough to
slide my hand around him and tap gently at that tiny
hole.  Capture his small animal whimpers in my mouth
as I push against him with one finger.  I have to pull
back and remind him, "Breathe, precious·ye must
breathe."

"Can't·please·kiss me!"  His mouth struggling to reach
mine.

"Then breathe through yer nose, lad."  I laugh and
fasten my lips to his, finally pushing past that tight
ring of muscle.  His mouth open against mine and he's
sucking my tongue into his mouth in desperate
distraction.  Dear god, so tight, so warm, around my
mouth, around my finger, and I think I'll die again
from the need for him.  I grind our bodies together
and we're both moaning as I work another finger in.

His grunt against this added intrusion turns into a
wail as he flings his head back.  "God!"  And those
hips are thrusting against my hand.  I'm the only
deity here, boy, and I will devour you whole.

He doesn't know whether to push into my body or bear
down on my fingers, all rational thought has left his
brain, and I know it's my time.  As I pull my slick
fingers out of him slowly my other hand moves down to
circle his hardness.  More distraction as I push him
onto his back, draw his legs up, leaning in to
whisper, "That's it lad...open yerself for
me....spread...ah...that's it, there's my good lad."

There's a spark of fear in his eyes as he watches me
anoint myself with oil, but he's too far gone in
passion to struggle as I press the tip against his
hole.  No, as long as he can see me he can hold on to
my promises.  God, impossibly tight and still beneath
me, "Breathe, lovely, breathe·let me in now."

I feel strong thighs parting beneath me as he grips
his legs, his chest glistening with a sheen of sweat
rising sharply as he obeys me.  There·bend to me·need
this.  My own body is shaking as I sink slowly into
him, that tight glove of muscle threatening my
control.  It takes everything I have to hold still and
not break him with a lunge.

Couldn't harm him·not like this.  I take my weight and
move down to lick the tears teasing at the corner of
his eyes.  So sweet.  Give it all to me.  I'll take so
much more.  That wet touch undoes him and he's shaking
with passion, shattered beneath me.

"God·oh God·ye're·*in* me!"  The words torn from him
in gasps that send ripples around my cock.

I rock slowly into his flesh to confirm this, "Aye·and
yer all around me·feel me!"  And this time I pull out
and move back with more force.  His wordless cry calls
to my demon, and my fangs itch to drop and sink into
him as deeply as the rest of me.  Not yet.

"Penn·lad, how does it feel?"  Dropping my head down
to him, my lips hovering over his.  "Feel me in you?
Just a little harder, shall I?"

And I do, I rear back and pull his legs with me,
wrapping my arms and nuzzling his calf as I set a
steady pace.  Watch those hands twisting into the
cloth, his head thrashing in time to my thrusts, that
lovely length of flesh so hard again dripping as it
bobs with my movement.  Then those eyes flash open and
pin me with such a look of hunger and need I still for
a moment.  If I could freeze this instant of his
torment and surrender I would· keep it with me always.
Just one word breaks past those swollen well-kissed
lips, "Please·"

My boy needs me, hurts with it, and it just *sings* to
me.  I let his legs drop 'round my waist and I cover
his body with mine.  Rain kisses down on that face
tilted so eagerly up to mine.  "Aye,
Penn·anythin'·everythin'·tell me·what do you feel?"

Sweet Jesus!  His arms are around me and his hips are
moving with mine, his muscles clench around me and a
groan is pulled from me as I try not complete myself
in his tight willing heat.

His smile, bright as day, and just as glowing, "I
feel·alive!"  Laughter bubbling up in him as he
strains to match my pace, sharp joyful cry as I grab
his turgid length and pull roughly.  "Yes!"  And I
swear his look of triumph matches my own.  Well
chosen.  Well loved.  He arches into my fist, as I
pull his pleasure from him, that tight heat clamping
down on me.

He's gasping now for air as I set a punishing pace,
the echoes of his passion still keeping him wrapped
around me and shuddering as I bend my head to his
neck.  That column of flesh and muscle exposed for me,
offered.

My tongue laps hard against the earlier bruise and his
low moan tips my heart over as fangs drop, sinking in
past skin into vein.  The first blissful swallow of
hot life across my palette and I'm drowning in him.
Lost as I complete myself, driving into his tight
body, filling my boy as I drain him.  His grip on me
weakening as I lap at the slowing pulse of blood and I
pull back and stare for a moment.

My choice, and he sees it.  That instant where he
knows what he has given me and what I might offer him.
Such a small voice rasps out of him, "Promise me."

What an amazing lad, my Penn is, so demanding as he
dies for me.  "What, my gem?  What shall I promise
you?"

Face so pale, lips barely moving now.  "This won't
stop.  This will go on and on.  Promise."

A child's dream granted by a demon, "Forever, love."
With sharp teeth I make a small gash, just deep enough
and press my wrist to his mouth.  "Drink."

He does.  Gentle lapping is all he can manage but I
cradle him to me and let him drink until he stops.
Until his heart ceases, and those wide gray eyes shut.
I caress him in this stillness and wait.

-End

Feedback