The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 16

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

There is a room in the back of the house I share with Elijah, Paul, Christian, and Peter that has a wall made almost entirely of windows. These windows overlook the garden, so the room is always filled with sunlight during the day and the soft glow of the city at night. There are plenty of comfortable chairs to sit in with a fireplace on one side, shelves filled with books on the other. Not books having anything to do with our business, but books to be read purely for entertainment that were left here by the house's several previous occupants.

It is one of my favorite rooms and I love coming here to just sit, relax, read, gather my thoughts, and stare out onto the gardens. At the moment, Elijah is sitting in the chair next to me as we pass a bottle of wine back and forth. It is night, or rather, early morning, and we've been out hunting. Paul and Peter are asleep, but we are too wired to go to bed yet, so we sit in front of the window, drinking, and watching the couple outside. We should probably feel guilty and find another window to look out, but we just can't seem to find the motivation.

"Well, at least that answers your question," Elijah says, handing me the bottle.

"What question?"

"Who's on top?"

"Yeah," I say, taking a drink, "I guess it does. I never would have thought, but I guess it must be nice for Marton to hand control over to someone else for a change."

"Plus, it's Sean. I know if he offered to top for me, you can bet your ass my ass would be up in the air and begging in no time."

At this, I nearly spit out the wine I am trying to drink, quickly handing Elijah the bottle so I don't risk spilling that as well. "Jesus, Lighe," I laugh, wiping drops of wine from my chin, "you have no shame, do you?"

"Shame is highly overrated," he grins, lifting the bottle to his mouth, "and you can't deny if Sean asked, you wouldn't be tempted."

"Oh, I'd be tempted, all right," I say, my eyes glancing towards the Brit's fine arse as he plows into Marton. "But I'm kind of off men at the moment."

Elijah's eyebrows shoot up till they're practically part of his hairline. "You're ‘off men'? What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means that I've got a lot to figure out at the moment and don't want to get involved with anyone until I know what I'm doing again."

"Shit, Colin, that could take years!"

I shrug, reaching for the bottle. Years, decades, whatever works. I just don't want to fuck up anyone else's life the way I've managed to fuck up mine. Especially not until I can keep that bastard from screwing me in my dreams every night and leaving me bleeding every morning.

With an exasperated sigh, Elijah grabs the bottle from my hand. "You're a pain in my finely shaped derriere. You know this, don't you?"

"What's with you?" I ask, deciding not to comment on the exceptionally easy lead he gave me by referring to pain and his bum in the same sentence.

"Nothing," he grumbles, drinking heartily. He finishes off the bottle then gestures towards the wine cabinet in the corner. "Another?"

"I'll get it," I say, standing up and stumbling my way over to the two doors, one made of glass and one of wood. In deciding between the refrigerated white and the room-temperature red, I go for the red. It's what we've been drinking, and with the wine's deep, rich color that stains our mouths and leaves crimson trails down our chins, it's got a nice irony to it.

Removing the cork, I take a drink then hand the bottle to him. "This one's not bad."

He checks the label. "Australian--must be a contribution from the Tin Men. We'll have to be sure and thank them for it."

"In a way that lets them know they're more than welcome to contribute more."

Elijah grins, handing the bottle back and I take another drink. Outside, Marton and Sean seem to be heading for round three, and I shift as my pants grow a little tighter. "Damn. I don't know who I envy more."

"No shit. It's like they're in a marathon. We should have brought popcorn."

"If I'd known we were going to get a show, I would have."

"You're really going to give this up?" he asks, a little too casually, and I know he's got a point in there, somewhere.

"I'm not giving it up. I'm just putting it off for a while."

"Well, Peter will be sorry to hear that."

"Peter?" I ask, arching an eyebrow. "What's he got to do with this?"

"The two of you have been spending a lot of time together lately."

"Yeah. As friends."

"Are you sure?"

"Elijah. . ."

He gives me his sweet little innocent Bambi eyes, and I feel an urge to dump the rest of the bottle on him. As if sensing my intentions, he snatches it from my hand, removing it from temptation's reach.

"All I'm saying is that Karl and Stuart thought the two of you would be perfect for each other, and from what I've seen, they were right."

"We get along well, but that's it. And what's all this about Karl and Stuart?"

"Why do you think they were so quick to offer you comfort in Venice? They had plans for you, and for Peter, and now that the two of you have been brought together, their plans seem to be working."

"Matchmaking from the grave seems a little farfetched even for this place," I snarl, grabbing the bottle back from him and taking a much needed drink. "Can't we just be friends? I know it seems like a strange concept, particularly in here, but I truly do not want a romantic attachment right now."

"Fine," he says, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I'll just sit back and let nature take its course."

"Thank you," I say, handing him the bottle and standing up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my hand."

"I'm sorry--what did you just say?"

"Between those two and the wine, I'm feeling extremely uncomfortable here."

"Oh, yeah. That. I know what you mean," he nods, grunting as he pushes himself up from the chair. "I think I might go wake Paul up. And you could always ask Peter to help."

"Fuck off, Lighe."

"Hey, it was worth a shot," he grins. "Night, Colin."

"Night," I answer, using the banister to practically pull myself up the stairs.

Realizing how precarious my balance has become, I don't know that I have the coordination left in me for a proper wank. Shuffling to my room, I crawl onto the bed and undress from there. It seems easier to remove my clothes while lying down than to try and do it while standing. I manage to shove my jeans off my legs and onto the floor only seconds before I pass out.

"Colin. . ." a voice teases, the sound light, amused. "Colin, wake up."

I shake my head. "Don't wanna."

"Colin. . ." the voice repeats, a little more persistent this time, and is followed by soft kisses along my jaw.

Smiling, I roll over onto my side, turning my face away from him. "Go away, Orli. I'm exhausted, and I'm drunk. I need sleep."

"You need more than that," he says, his hand sliding over the bulge between my legs. I hiss, my body instantly responding with fire to his touch.

"Bloody hell, man. Can't you manage to go even one night without getting laid?"

"If it was anyone but you," he says, wrapping his fingers around me through the cloth of my boxers, "I'd say yes. Need you, Colin."

He rolls me over onto my back and slides the boxers from my legs. Despite all my best efforts to seem disinterested, I sigh with relief as my erection is released into the open air.

"I knew all you needed as a bit of incentive," he smirks.

"It's going to take more than that," I groan, shaking my head. "Get me a gallon of espresso, and then we'll talk."

He straddles me, leaning over me on all fours, his erection brushing against mine. A shiver runs through my body as I stare up at him, his dark curls falling around his face, brushing my cheeks. "What if I did all the work?" he asks, his tongue swiping across my lips.

"What if you did. . . Orli, what are you talking about?"

With his secret smile, he reaches one hand down to rub over my cock our favorite oil, the one that smells of cinnamon and cloves. When I'm thoroughly coated, he positions himself above me, and I am suddenly very much aware of what he was talking about. My penis is practically doing jumping jacks with excitement, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside of him.

"Ready for the ride of your life?" he grins as he starts to lower himself onto me.

"Baby, you're not prepared!" I try to protest, but he just leans over and kisses me, nipping at my lips with his fangs.

"You could never hurt me in any way I don't want to be hurt," he says, then sits back up and impales himself on my cock.

We both cry out, him in pain, me with the pleasure of being thoroughly encompassed by him. I don't know why I bothered to fight him. He is the most extraordinary creature I've ever known, and all I ever want is to feel him wrapped around me.

He lifts himself up until I am nearly withdrawn from his body, and then he thrusts himself down again.

"Oh, fuck! Orli!" We've only just started, and I'm already seeing stars.

"Do you love me, Colin?" he asks, slowly raising and lowering himself on my cock.

"God, yes!"

"Tell me how much!"

"You want me to use words?"

"Yes, Colin," he says, his eyes clenched shut with ecstasy as he continues riding me.

"There are no words."

"Try! Tell me! Do you live for me?"

"You know I live only for you!"

"Would you kill for me, Colin?"

"Yes!" I gasp as he tightens his muscles around me.

"Would you sacrifice everything for me?"

"In a heartbeat. Anything you want from me is yours--I am yours!"

His eyes open, drawing me into their relentless brown depths. "Would you die for me?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation, my body tightening with the nearness of my orgasm, and I reach for him. "Come with me, baby."

Smiling, he leans down to kiss my lips, then lowers his mouth. As I am about to be pulled over the edge, he sinks his teeth into my neck, and I scream my release.

"FUCK!"

My hand clutching my neck, I shoot up in the bed. I breathe in deeply, trying to catch my breath. My heart is pounding throughout my body, my stomach threatening to reject all the wine I'd had to drink, and my boxers are embarrassingly damp. Pulling my hand away, it is, as usual, covered in blood.

"Fuck."

The goddamn son of a bitch did it to me again.

"I am going to kill that vampire if it's the last thing I do," I mutter as I slide off the mattress in search of a clean pair of boxers and yet another bandage.

It is late in the evening by the time Peter and I make our way back from the park. I have insisted that he teach me baseball, and so far, I'm not doing too bad. I'm better at hitting a fucking ball than I am at shooting a gun, that's for damn sure.

As we near our block, I realize that we'll be walking by the two forbidden buildings. One of them sits on the corner and the sidewalk around it is currently cast deep in shadow, so if we were to try and look into the windows, odds are that we wouldn't be caught.

"Hey, Peter," I say as we draw near, "are you sure you never wanted to look inside?"

"Not particularly," he says, eyeing with unease the windows that are just high enough to keep anyone from looking inside. "I sat up one night with the Pondscum after I first got here, and they tried to intimidate me with horror stories of things they've heard or seen, and the stories they told of these houses have happily encouraged me to avoid them both."

"Oh, come on," I say, laughing away his fears. "You just said the Pondscum were trying to scare you. There's probably nothing in there except junk."

"Then why aren't we allowed in there? Afraid we'll hurt ourselves on a broken chair and then sue?"

"Okay, so it isn't junk," I shrug. "Maybe that's where they keep their treasure, because you know they have to have one--one, fuck, a dozen treasures at least--to pay for all this. The point is, don't you want to look?"

"No."

"Well, I do. Help me up."

"Colin. . ."

I take one of his hands between mine and gaze into his beautiful green eyes. "Please, Peter, just for a second, just a peek, and then I won't ask again, I promise."

"Could you be any more obvious?" he growls, and I grin.

"Definitely."

"Fine," he sighs. "One second, and that's it."

"Thanks, Peter. I owe you a pint for this."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters as he kneels down and laces his fingers together, his palms facing up. "Good thing you're made up of smoke and beer, otherwise, you'd weigh a ton."

"Ha ha," I say, stepping into his hands. "Ready?"

"Why not?"

"Great, on three. One. . . two. . . three!"

He lifts me up and I grab onto the ledge around the window, resting my arms on it and struggling to peer inside.

"Well?" he asks, the strain of holding me up in his voice. "What do you see?"

"Nothing. They've got the bloody blinds closed! Wait, this one here's a little bent. I might be able. . . Just a couple of inches. . ." I attempt to move a little to my left, but don't sufficiently warn Peter so he can adjust.

"Shit! Colin!"

Next thing I know, I'm wobbling in midair, then collapse on top of him, knocking us both to the ground.

"Ow."

"Yeah."

"Sorry," I say with a sympathetic grimace, looking down at him, very much aware of how not unpleasant his body feels beneath mine. "Didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"

"I can't tell. You're still on top of me."

"Right. So, moving would probably help."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe," he nods, the hint of a smile curling his rather distinctively perfect lips. I'm surprised I never noticed his lips before. How could I not notice his lips? Two more perfect objects of beauty I have rarely seen. Not counting the lips that continue to haunt my dreams, but as I said, I'm not counting those. "Depends on which way you move."

A smile begins threatening my own lips at this, but I try to keep a straight face. He's becoming increasingly difficult to resist, despite what I told Elijah. "Do you have a preference?"

"Just one? I actually have several."

"Perhaps we should explore ways of narrowing down your preferences to one."

"That could take a lot of experimentation."

"Several hours of work," I agree, my mouth slowly lowering towards his as if drawn by a magnet.

"Think you're up for it?" he asks, searching my eyes, his own filled with hope. He lifts his head slightly so that our lips are almost touching.

"I'm willing if you are."

"But not here. It's a little hard here. The ground, I mean."

"Of course," I grin, and press our lips together.

Only to find myself being lifted off of him and thrown against the wall. I open my mouth to shout my protest, but am immediately silenced as I catch sight of two fangs gleaming in the moonlight. I quickly look from the fangs and up into a pair of furious brown eyes.

"Colin!" Peter gasps, attempting to rise to his feet, but is stopped by a foot on his chest.

"Angelina, no!" Orlando says, his voice commanding. "Leave him alone. We have the one we want."

"What did I tell you about protecting the entire organization?"

"Angelina!"

"Fine," she says, rolling her eyes. "But you owe me." She moves over to stand in front of me, holding my gaze with hers. "Sleep, Colin."

I'm about to tell her to fuck off when an incredible feeling of lethargy washes over me. I can no longer keep my eyes open. The world around me fades into darkness as I fall into an unwilling sleep.

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