The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 20

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

I'm a dead man.

If Marton or Elijah or any of the others ever find out what I've been doing, they'll put a bullet through me faster than I can say, "Oops."

But I can't help it.

Every minute not spent sneaking away to his arms is spent wishing I was sneaking away to his arms. And not just his arms, but his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his hands, his hips. . . oh god.

I roll over onto my stomach, deserving the resulting discomfort of an erection hard pressed against the mattress. I deserve more than this. I deserve pain. I deserve agony. I deserve to be flayed and beaten and battered until I'm not even recognizable as human. I'm a despicable person. While my friends are fighting vampires, I'm grabbing one for a snogging session behind a rubbish bin. While they're burning up remains, I'm groping a body that makes me burn. I don't deserve to live, and I'll never be able to tell them why.

Not to mention, I can't even look Peter in the eye anymore. Poor, dear, wonderful, gorgeous, delectable Peter, who's been trying so hard to be my friend. I don't even deserve to think about him.

Punching the pillow to fit my head, I still suffer under the vain hope to catch at least a little bit of sleep, though I don't know why I bother. Until I get his hands on me, I'm never going to be able to rest.

I've tried to control it. I've tried to convince myself that I don't need him. I've tried to prove that I'm stronger than this, whatever this is. And immediately after trying, I give up and go searching for him.

Like now.

Crawling out of bed, I pull on jeans and a tee-shirt, grab a jacket, and then slip out of the house. I finally got around to asking what our house is called--Miscellaneous, or The Leftovers. Figures. We're currently trying to think up a better name for ourselves, not that I can focus on the fun and games of my fellow hunters anymore, or the training, or the rules--especially the rules, those little itty bitty guidelines I break every chance I get.

All I know is there's only an hour left till dawn, and there's a helluva lot we can accomplish in an hour.

I jog quickly down the near-empty streets to the park about half a mile from our headquarters. Walking through the dew-moistened grass, I look around for him, but can't see him. Still, I know he's here. I can sense him--these days, I can always sense him. "All right, you fanged parasite, where are you?"

"You know, of all the names you call me, I think I like that one best."

I spin around and look up to see him lounging on the branch of a tree, gazing down at me with those magnificent brown eyes. "Well, sugar bear, I'm open to suggestions."

Laughing, he swings out of the tree and lands only inches away. Those vampire reflexes of his--anyone else, and it would be showing off. He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

"Miss me already?" he asks in that soft, sultry voice.

"I was just out for a morning stroll. Pure coincidence that I should meet you here."

"Of course it is," he chuckles lightly, tracing a finger along my jaw, his touch making my skin tingle. "Good thing I'm a big fan of coincidences."

Bullshit, and we both know it. "Why do I keep coming after you?"

"Why do I keep coming after you?" he echoes, his eyes adoring, amused.

"This can't go on forever."

"Well. . ."

My eyes narrow. "NO."

He shrugs, giving a melancholy little sigh, though his eyes are twinkling. "I'll wear you down eventually."

"Not bloody likely."

"We'll see, but in the meantime, what would you like to do?"

"Sleep, preferably," I say, backing him up until he's pressed against the trunk of the tree. "But unless I want to knock myself out with drugs, that's not going to happen."

"Then come home with me. We sleep better when we're together."

"And you're basing this observation on just one night?"

"Yes." His eyes glance over my neck, a hand brushing across the bandage there. "You didn't need this after sleeping with me."

I self-consciously reach to cover the bandage, hating that the bastard is right. I didn't need it after the day spent sleeping with him, but my momentary reprieve ended when I woke up. Every time I've fallen asleep since, the dreams and bites have returned. Though, I do admit, the bites are growing less painful. I'm not even bleeding as much. The dreams, though. . . they grow more intense every time I close my eyes.

"I worry about you, Colin," he says, pressing a hand to my cheek, his skin cool against mine. "You should come stay with me. I can't always watch over you when you hunt. I can't be with you during the day. You're not safe out there."

"Neither are you," I say, annoyed and pleased by his need to protect me.

"But at least I don't go around deliberately placing myself in harm's way like you do."

"Orlando, I'm fine, and I'm not going to stop just because you don't like it."

"I know," he smiles, leaning forward to claim a soft kiss. "That's why I chose you. You're a warrior."

"You chose me?"

A frown creases his forehead. "I did. I chose you. I can't remember choosing you, I just know I did."

"Yes, you did," I say, moving my mouth across his lips and down to his neck, my teeth grazing gently on the vein there, remembering how much he liked that. "You stalked me, hunted me in much the same way that I now hunt your kind. I didn't know it was you, at first. I just knew someone was chasing me, but when I turned around, I saw only you. You looked at me, smiled, and I immediately forgot everything."

"Tell me more," he gasps, his eyes darkening with pleasure as he spins us around so I'm the one pressed against the tree. "I want to hear everything."

His hands reach to unbutton my pants, and my dick jerks excitedly. We have done nothing other than give each other bruised lips--not to mention bruises in other places--since we first began sneaking away with each other. It's about time we started moving forward.

"There isn't much to tell. It was an instant connection, but surprisingly enough, we didn't jump each other's bones right there in the middle of the street."

"Why the fuck not?" he demands, wrapping a hand around my erection. My senses immediately scatter and I moan, losing myself to the sensation of his cold skin caressing my swelling cock.

"Colin?"

I pull my thoughts together, while pulling on his earlobe with my teeth, and he shudders deliciously. "I think we wanted to wait. I think we knew there was something more going on. We went to a pub and we talked--we talked for hours."

"What did I talk about?"

"You told me stories. . . stories of people and places I didn't even know existed. I don't think some of them even do anymore," I chuckle, and his hand quickens, "but it didn't matter, because I loved hearing you speak."

"What did you talk about?"

I shrug. "My family. My life. Wild youthful antics. The usual."

"You'll have to tell me again sometime."

"Maybe," I say with an overdose of nonchalance, and he growls, his hand coming to a complete and total stop. "Okay, I will."

"Thank you."

Something in his tone startles me, and I look up at him. He is watching me, his eyes filled with regret.

"I'm sorry, Colin."

"Why?"

"For fucking up so terribly."

"The only way you're fucking up," I say, pressing against him, "is by ignoring one of my finest features. You know, the one you're holding in your hand." I nibble a path along his jaw line, then nip at the underside of his chin. "Don't make it beg. It doesn't like begging."

"But I can make you beg?" he teases, and I grin.

"I'll have to see about that."

"I think I'm going to like this," he says, claiming my lips as his hand begins to move once more. His thumb rubs across the slit and I don't know whether I moan or growl, but he begins to make languid circles around the sensitive tip until my knees are shaking so badly, I can barely stand.

"Orlando. . ."

"Yes, Colin?"

His voice is too innocent. He knows what he's doing to me.

"When I said I might consider letting you make me beg, I didn't mean now."

"Really?" he purrs. "You should have been clearer."

"Bastard."

"What can I say? I love the feel of your hot, throbbing cock in my hand." His fingers wrap around me again, slowly moving up and down my entire length. "I love the texture of your skin, how hard and firm you feel in my grasp. I love that tightening my fingers," he demonstrates and I release a long, shuddering breath as I try not to come right then and there, "makes it feel as if my hand is a part of you. A little twist to the left," I grind my teeth to keep from crying out, "or a little twist to the right, and it gives you so much pleasure."

He leans forward until his lips are next to my ear. "I love giving you pleasure, Colin," he whispers.

Just the slightest brush of his mouth across my earlobe is enough to push me over the edge. I come hard, spilling myself in his hand as he grabs my mouth with his, kissing me with a ferocity that practically has me hardening before he's even had time to milk the final drops from my softening cock.

"Orlando," I say, pushing him away while I gasp desperately for breath.

"Sorry," he says with an embarrassed smile. "I forgot you need to breathe."

"Kiss me like that again, and I'll forgive you."

"Deal," he says, and I wrap my arms around him, sliding my tongue between his teeth. This time, I'm not so careful and glide my tongue along his fangs, almost welcoming the resulting sting.

"Colin!" His voice is a strangled gasp as he tries to push away, but I hold on even tighter, drawing his mouth to mine again.

A purr erupts from deep in his throat as he surrounds my tongue, meticulously sucking the blood away from the tiny cut. He begins rubbing his body against mine, but when I move to touch the hardness pressing into my hip, he jumps back.

"Don't," he says, his eyes almost entirely black with hunger.

"Orlando—" I begin to protest, wanting to do for him everything he's done for me, but he interrupts, shaking his head.

"I can't let you do that, Colin, not if you want to live." He looks almost frightened as he steps forward again, this time to rebutton my jeans, his gaze determinedly fixed on his hands. "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself, not with you. I want you too much."

"So I'll be a little more careful near those fangs of yours."

"It's not just that." He slowly raises his head to meet my eyes. "For vampires, orgasm is directly tied into drawing blood. Meaning, we can't find release without a drink. If you touch me right now, I may not be able to resist drinking from you, and because of what I feel for you, I may not be able to stop."

Huh. That's a cute little fact they left out of the hunter manual. I guess. Never having actually seen the hunter manual, I'm only presuming they omitted this. They may not even have a hunter manual, though if they did, I have no doubt I never would have bothered to read it anyway.

And I'm stalling. Suck it up, Colin, and ask already. You know you're dying to know.

Taking a deep breath, I look at him. "What do you feel for me?"

He gives my newly dressed groin a quick pat and smiles. That touch is almost enough to distract me, but not quite. "There, all ready to go and face the world."

"Orlando, you didn't answer my question."

"I know." He is quiet for a moment, a plethora of expressions crossing his face before settling on distraught. "What do you want me to say, Colin? What can I tell you that you don't already know?

Nothing, I suppose. But I want to hear it from his mouth anyway. "Why don't you try?"

"If that's what you want. . . This is how I feel about you. I desire you. I want to be with you. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you."

He's telling me the details. I want the only fact that matters, and it seems that I'll have to be the direct one if I'm going to learn the truth.

"Do you love me, Orlando?"

The vampire looks at me, his eyes glowing. "Yes, I love you, Colin."

But when I open my mouth to respond, nothing comes out. I know what I want to say, and I try to force the words past my throat, but I just can't seem to make my voice work.

"You're not ready yet. It's all right," he smiles, then glances towards the lightening east. "I have to go."

I'm not an idiot. I can see the disappointment in his eyes, but it's nothing compared to the disappointment I feel in myself. All I wanted was to hear him say it. Why couldn't I say it back? Why can't I tell him I feel the same?

Leaning in, Orlando gives me one final kiss. "Go get some sleep," he says, and then he is gone.

And I feel like shit.

I should have told him. What the hell is wrong with me? It isn't like I don't love him, because I do. I think. I'm pretty sure I do. Of course I do. I wouldn't be risking everything to be with him if I didn't love him.

Unless I'm just insane, which is a distinct possibility.

Turning to make my way back to the house, I run right into one of my fellow hunters.

"Paul!"

"You son of a bitch," he growls, pushing me against the tree. The outline of the bark is going to be imprinted forever on my back after this night. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Should I confess, or play dumb? I'll take Elijah's favorite path, and play dumb.

"What do you mean what am I doing? I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk, as usual."

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me, Colin! I saw you with him."

"With who?"

Wrong answer, I grimace as a knot in the tree is forced into my back.

"Oh, him. He's just some cute guy I picked up. I know, I know," I say, raising my hands, "it's not safe, but sometimes, a cute guy is worth the chance."

"Don't fuck with me, Colin. I know who he is," Paul snarls, his hands digging into my shoulders. "I've seen Orlando before. You helped me once with my vampire problem, and now I'm going to help you. I'm taking you to Marton."

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