This is Part Three of a three-part story told from Peter’s point of view. Caution: Contains adult content.
***
As the sun rose on the other side of the shade-covered windows, I sat in my chair, the same disheveled shirt and wrinkled suit hanging from my frame. My eyes felt tired and my mind still spun around in circles, coming back to the same conclusion while hitting the remnants of my brick wall and creating more rubble. Two glasses of scotch and an attempt to sleep yielded nothing but wasted hours and at last, I surrendered to sitting alone, waiting for something to finally make sense to me.
I could not cease thinking about Victor.
A litany of images formed a movie montage inside my head. The first time I met him, the first feelings he ever inspired before our confrontation in Nocturnal Embers. The regret I experienced over causing such ado over nothing. The chance to make amends when I returned to San Francisco. All of our discussions and the steadily growing need to be with him, blossoming into this moment, when I both wished to embrace him and push him away.
I had never been so frightened before in my life. The past few days had culminated into this, forcing me to confront myself with a simple, yet complicated, fact. He had claimed a part of my soul. I wished for him to have it, too. A voice in the backdrop of my mind spoke of sentiments far deeper than friendship, with so much more at stake than time. I could no more take a step backward than I could take one forward, because either way, I feared what it would bring.
One step backward would mean distancing myself from happiness. Each time we were together, the world settled into a steadier rhythm and for those fleeting hours, I could both forget myself and embrace myself. I could speak to him with such honesty, it forced me to wonder how anybody could continue listening to the nuances of my bizarre existence and yet wish anything to do with me. Likewise, he told me things I knew he did not share readily with others. We trusted one another. We fit together like two puzzle pieces one would swear had been carved to always fit into place. Birds of a feather, and yet with enough distinct between us, our differences complimented each other.
One step forward, though. I perked an eyebrow, asking myself what about it would be so wrong. That he was another man? No, the evening prior proved to me I could be just as aroused by the sight of Victor as any woman for whom I had ever cared. No mortal woman could have sated the shivers which overwhelmed me and had Flynn not knocked me from the moment, I would have assuredly indulged in the carnal with him. The attraction, strange though it was for me to consider, did not frighten me as much as what I saw within the confines of my psyche.
The ability to surrender myself to him.
The desire to do so.
The knowledge that should Flynn drive him away, it would devastate me.
That startling realization that I did more than enjoy his company. I…
Clenching my eyes shut, I prevented myself from continuing the thought. The words danced at the tip of my tongue, but remained there, safe from my ears which would hear them and my mind which would latch on to their reality. Raising my hands, I rubbed my face and slowly lowered them back down onto my lap.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a heartbeat.
Groaning, I realized the door to John’s room had opened and my son’s footsteps confirmed he had woken early. I heard him pad down the hallway and disappear inside the bathroom, but tensed nonetheless, wondering if downstairs was to be his next destination. For a few moments, I heard nothing. Then, the door swung open and the sounds of plumbing in operation masked any further movement my son made. I failed to hear his door close, but did hear one thing which brought my hands to my face again.
Bare feet on the top stair, lowering to the next one. I settled my hands onto my lap and prepared for my son’s arrival, eyes fixed the entryway by the time he made it the rest of the way down. He strolled for the kitchen, then stopped. When I failed to look at him, he cleared his throat. “Dad?” he said, voicing the form of address as a question. “What are you doing up?”
I drew a shaky breath. “Thinking, John,” I said. My eyes remained fixed elsewhere.
He walked a few paces closer and stopped again. His voice softened when he spoke next. “Is everything okay?”
I felt his gaze settle on me. Finally, I turned my head to regard him and sighed. “I do not know how to answer that question. I have simply been thinking and unable to settle into sleep.”
John nodded. He walked toward the couch and settled into it. “What’re you thinking about?”
Our eyes met and I frowned. John perked an eyebrow, but waited patiently for me to go through the various motions I needed to in order to bring about the answer. I knitted my hands together. My gaze darted around the room before settling on my mortal son again. Swallowing hard, I forced one name past my lips. “Victor.”
A broad smile blossomed on John’s face. “What about Victor, Dad?”
I shook my head. “I do not know if you are ready to hear me speak of my thoughts, John.”
John laughed. “Dad.” He chuckled once more and shook his head. “I’m not a kid. And I’ll bet you ten bucks I’ve seen stuff you’re not even aware I’ve seen.”
“Such as what?” I asked, an eyebrow raising.
The corner of his mouth curled in a much more sly grin. “I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other. Hey, I might have never been in love before, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know when other people are.”
Hearing him speak the words in such a brazen manner forced me to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I chuckled nervously. “What in the heavens are you talking about?”
“You love him, Dad.” John’s face developed a sober seriousness to it. “It’s alright that you do, too, because he’s a good guy. He cares about you. He treats you good, and you both like being with each other.” He pointed a finger at me. “And don’t you deny it either, because I’ve seen the way you dash off when he comes to the door and how damn nervous you get when he’s about to arrive. You were happier than a fucking clam the time he spent the day here.”
I stared, dazed, at John and nodded slowly, my gaze lowering toward the floor. “I was very happy when that happened.”
“Yes, you were. I might have been a little bit of a sarcastic ass in giving you shit about it, but that’s kind of part of the reason why I did.”
My gaze shot up to John again. “What do you mean?”
He chuckled. “Ah, that whole ‘nothing else happened.’ Hell, I knew that. I guess in my own snarky sort of way, I was trying to get you to see, though, that you care about him.”
I nodded slowly, furrowing my brow. It had been so apparent even then? Little wonder Robin held the sort of discourse he did with Victor. Perhaps he saw it, too. I remembered my hand lingering on Victor’s shoulder and with a small voice, I said it for the first time. “I love him.”
“Yes, you do.” John grinned. “As I’d probably be more apt to say, though… You’ve got it pretty fucking bad.”
I laughed despite myself. “Define ‘pretty fucking bad,’ John.”
He laughed. “Heel over head, out of your mind, I bet you fifty bucks you haven’t stopped thinking about him in at least a couple weeks, maybe more?”
I winced. “Yes, that would be pretty fucking bad.”
“Which is alright.” John sat closer to the edge of his seat. “You’ve… Well, I’m gonna come right out and say it. You’ve had a couple shitty relationships. No offense to the chicks themselves, but… they weren’t you, Dad. We barely tolerated you-know-who. I never knew that Keira woman, but considering how you came back, I bet you got raked over the coals a little bit.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know Victor seems a hell of a lot more like you.”
The corner of my mouth curled in a grin. “It does not trouble you that he is another man?”
John laughed in an uproarious manner. “Hey… Dad, seriously.” He pointed around. “This is the twenty-first century and we’re in fucking San Francisco. I don’t think we could get any more ironic if we tried.”
“You have a rather valid point.”
“I have a few of ‘em.” He shook his head, still grinning at me. “You want my blessing or whatever the fuck they call it, well, you’ve got it. I want you to be with him. I approve, go be happy, la-dee-fucking-dah. Come on, Dad.” He perked an eyebrow at me. “I honestly think you’ve got more of a problem with this than I do.”
I sighed. My eyes lowered toward the ground and finally my lids shut as I let the words escape my mouth unabated. “It has nothing to do with the obvious, John. I simply know how deep this sentiment runs. Perhaps in some manners, I fear he might not feel the same and perhaps I am concerned I would get that which I wished only to lose it again somehow. Flynn might scare him off or the assassin might attempt to corrupt something harmonious in his nefarious manners. Or…”
There was a pause. “Or what?” John asked.
I opened my eyes, a pained expression latent in my gaze. “I could fall in love again only to lose him. As I did your mother.”
John frowned and rose to his feet. Strolling over to me, he placed a hand on my shoulder and crouched beside my chair. “If somebody would have told you, when you first met Mom, that you’d lose her someday, would it’ve stopped you from loving her?”
“No.” I glanced at John and frowned. “No, it would not have.”
John nodded. A solemn grin curled the corner of his mouth. “Then don’t think about it. Don’t think about Flynn or death or anything like that. And don’t be afraid to throw yourself out there. I’m not a rocket scientist, but I think he likes being around you just as much.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “It does appear that way.”
“It is. I’d even put money on it.”
I mustered as much of a grin as possible. “I have not felt this way in years, John. Perhaps why I have been sheltering myself in such denial. Not since your mother have I felt the pull toward another in such a manner.”
John shrugged. “Eh, she ruined you to women. It’s alright.” He winked.
I chuckled despite myself. The bout of merriment inspired a wider grin on my son’s face. “Seriously,” he said, “I know you haven’t. I didn’t have to be here all these years to see what you probably went through. It had to be pretty shitty.” The smile dissolved. “Wouldn’t you rather take a shot at being happy, though? Fall head over fucking heels, Dad. Take a chance or two. It sure as hell beats sitting here like this.”
Opening my mouth to issue a protest, I found the words cut short and my sentiments closing in around me. ‘I could go back to the way things were,’ I thought, but realized that option was not possible any longer. It would build until I broke and poured out my sentiments to him, the dam of sentiments bursting, the undertow sweeping me under with its current. ‘I do not wish to end this simplicity,’ I mused, but the door shut behind me and all that was left was to step forward. Step forward and pray to whatever gods were listening I did not love in vain.
I exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. “What do I do, John?” I asked.
John patted my shoulder and withdrew his hand, allowing it to fall by his side as he stood. I raised my eyes to meet his. “Go tell him, Dad. Well…” He chuckled. “When it’s a little less sunny out.”
I smiled, feeling the tension in my posture dissipate, giving way to a rush of nervous energy. “I shall go to him tonight,” I said.
“Excellent. I’ll order pizza and not wait up.”
John winked. I laughed. “You presume entirely too much, John,” I said.
“Hey, I’m liking my odds here,” he said as he turned for the kitchen and padded into it. I heard the refrigerator door open. “Ten bucks says he says the same damn thing you said and I don’t see you for a couple of days.”
“Now, I could never leave you by yourself for that long.”
“That wasn’t me throwing a pity party, Dad. If I need company, I’ll go to Uncle Robin’s.” He emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of water in hand. “I’m telling you not to worry ‘bout me. I know you feel responsible and it’s touching, but right now, I’m more concerned about you, okay?”
I nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you, John.”
He grinned and nodded in return. “Don’t mention it.” Glancing at the stairs, he looked back at me. “I’m going to go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Get some rest. You don’t want to pass out on his doorstep.”
I blinked, then perked an eyebrow. “It would be an amusing way of alluding toward how I feel.”
“Yeah, but the waiting would be a bitch.” John chuckled and ascended the stairs again, leaving me to myself. Within a few minutes, I stood and made my way into my bedroom, each step along the path feeling somewhat disconnected, as though I moved out of step with the world around me. I felt lighter than air and heavier than gravity, calmer than the ocean and more unsettled than a tempest. Stripping, I slid under the covers and laid in bed staring at the ceiling, mouthing the words until my voice finally gained the courage to speak them.
“I love you, Victor Mason,” I said. “Perhaps deeper than I have loved somebody in a very long time.” My heart swelled as I voiced the confession, the simple summary far more significant than even my conversation with John had been. I knew what I intended to do after sunset and shut my eyes, telling myself now was not the time to fight sleep. I wished to have a clear mind for what would follow in the evening.
Within minutes, I fell into slumber and for the next few hours, I rested without waking. When I opened my eyes, however, I swallowed hard, knowing what I intended to do and already feeling my hands begin to shake. As I stepped into the bathroom, my stomach twisted and as I started the shower, I had to laugh at myself. “Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?” I asked, addressing myself and no one else.
The answer proved to be quite obvious.
I had confessed my feelings for him. For better or worse, I knew damn well how I felt. Now, came the part where I wore my heart on my sleeve and searched my brother for what laid behind his stolen glances. Suspicions did not do much to quell the need inside me. I was desperate to know for certain he felt the same way in return.
***
I lost my virginity at the youthful age of sixteen, to a girl I met in high school named Melissa DiFranco. I could yet recall the moment I knew she and I were going to escalate past kisses, into clothing shed and the inevitable coupling which took place. I had never been so nervous before. My bedroom door locked and my aunt and uncle out of the house for the evening, we engaged in the sort of clumsy ritual all young couples face when they first become intimate with one another. I had been jittery teenager feeling his way around the unknown.
Yet, that experience could not hold a candle to how I felt after I stepped out of the shower.
I found it somewhat ironic. Here I was, a grown man – indeed, a vampire now with twenty-six taxing years of immortality behind me – and I could not recall any moment when I felt such apprehension. Not facing the myriad of foes I faced as a seer. Not executing one assassination. Not even at any point in my relationship with Monica, save but for the slight bout of jitters I experienced the night before she and I were married. I touched the reflectionless mirror in front of me and smeared away the steam, wishing I could gaze at myself and see it written all over my face.
Instead, I drew a deep breath inward and exhaled it in a slow manner before stepping out into my room.
Tossing the towel onto my bed, I fished out a fresh pair of boxers and slipped them on while walking to the closet. My fingers skimmed across my suits, looking for my best one. Finally, they settled on one I usually reserved for more formal outings and took hold of the hanger. Turning around, I fetched a black, button-down shirt from another hanger and set the suit onto the bed while slipping my arms through its sleeves. I fastened each button with meticulous detail. Securing the cuffs and dusting off the material, I ensured not a wrinkle marred the fine linen before plucking my pants from the bed and slipping them on. As I fastened the belt around my waist, I became aware of John standing in the doorway.
I flashed a wan smile at him while pulling a pair of socks from the drawer. He raised a bottle of water to his mouth and swallowed a hearty drink before pointing it at me. “Dressed to kill, eh?” he asked.
Chuckling, I sat on the bed to slip my socks on my feet. “Would you fetch my shoes for me?”
“Roger that.” He set the water bottle on my dresser, then walked into my closet. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair again. “Trying not to find it funny that you’re as nervous as a guy on prom night, Dad.”
“Thank you for not laughing at my expense, John.”
“Hey, what’re sarcastic sons for?” He walked out, holding a pair of black, wing-tipped shoes and handed them to me. His eyes met mine. “You’re gonna do fine. Just keep telling yourself that.”
I nodded, my smile turning a trifle more genuine. “I appreciate you saying so. And I promise, I shall.”
He nodded and turned to leave me alone, plucking his water bottle from the dresser before disappearing down the corridor. I watched the door to his room close, then focused on the task at hand again. Each shoe made it onto each foot and I finally stood to slip on my suit jacket. Straightening the sleeves with a brush of my hand, I evened out the lapels and nodded.
My eyes drifted to the clock on my night stand. A quick gaze directed toward the shaded windows confirmed matters for me. The sun had set. Now was as good of a time as any for me to leave. Shutting my eyes, I drew in a deep, steadying breath. “The boy says I shall do fine and so, I shall. This is the same man I have known for all these weeks. Nothing has changed.” The moment the words escaped my mouth, though, I realized how false the last sentence was.
Everything had changed. I could only hope for the better.
Strolling down the stairs, I balled my hands in fists, determined not to be thwarted by the knots forming in my stomach. Pausing only to thrust my keys and wallet into my pocket, I made my way outside and inhaled deeply again, feeling the city sidewalk beneath my feet and heading in the proper direction. My arms remained at my sides until I settled in a more casual gait and slipped them in my pockets. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I asked myself… was I really going to go through with this?
I nearly turned around halfway there. I went through the menagerie of possible leading sentences I might insert to bring us around to the subject and even had the flicker of a thought to simply pull Victor close and press my lips to his in a searing kiss. Shaking my head, I sighed. No, I wanted him to know this transcended being carnal. I wanted him, not his body, not his position, not a single other solitary motive which one could list with misguided intent. The whole of him. His grin, the upturned eyebrow, the dry wit and self-confidence. The music, the laughter, the moments of intimacy which might be waiting for us. I wanted a partner. A companion. A lover.
Such thoughts were what motivated my feet to continue onward to Victor’s door.
As I stared at the wooden obstacle before me, I felt another rush of apprehension flood through me in such a visceral manner, I swore it should have restarted my heart. I swallowed reflexively and raised my hand, pressing my knuckles against the door before lifting them and summoning the courage to knock. My hand lowered slowly and I waited, counting each second until I heard the lock turn. The door swung open and there stood Victor.
A smile lit his face when he saw me standing there, but when I could do no more than summon a coy grin in response, he furrowed his brow. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Good evening, brother,” I said, my eyes searching his, seeing more than my close friend for the first time with the wall removed. My hands shook. I slipped them in my pockets. “Might I come in?”
“Yes, please come in,” Victor said, but I saw his smile falter and wondered what he saw when we glanced at one another again. I stepped into the entryway and cast a quick look around as he shut the door. Music streamed from the back of the house as it had several nights ago and for a few seconds, I visited that memory, wishing I had spoken with him then. The wisps of recollection dissipated like smoke when Victor appeared before me again. He summoned as much of a grin as he seemed apt to muster. “You walked all this way without calling me again.”
I nodded, exhaling a breath rife with tension. “Yes, but I did somewhat need the walk.” My eyes shifted around again, then met his. “I am not intruding while you are busy, am I?”
Victor chuckled. “Not at all, brother. I was merely indulging in my music. Nothing momentous.” He eyed me in a careful manner, then pointed toward his living room. “Come and sit with me. Tell me what brings you to my doorstep, as good as it is to see you. You seem to have something on your mind again.”
“I do have something on my mind.” Following Victor, I scolded myself to settle down a trifle as I sat in one chair and he, in another. Facing one another, we held a steady gaze and I hesitated, wondering what in the heavens to say first. Each segue into the matter at hand I had rehearsed on my way over all seemed woefully lacking now, staring at him. The words themselves needed to be meaningful, gold lacquered and polished to their most pristine quality. I drew a deep breath inward. “It is nothing grave, I assure you, although I…” My throat captured my speech and I fought hard against wincing. Instead, I ran my fingers through my hair. “I… needed to tell you something. Regarding last night.”
Victor raised an eyebrow at me, then nodded. “I did wonder, last night, what had happened.” A soft smile settled at the corners of his lips. “But I truly didn’t want to pry, Poet. You hardly need to tell me anything.”
I chuckled. “Actually, I do. I…” My eyes shifted away again, but shot back to Victor again as though magnetically drawn. I focused on his lips and felt a tingle run up my spine. Our gaze locked once more. “I wanted you to know… how much I enjoy your company, Victor.”
Victor’s eyes searched mine. He paused before responding. “I enjoy your company a great deal as well, Peter. You are the first man I’ve ever known, and appreciated, what it means to call brother.”
I could not help but to smile more readily at the sentiment. “You truly are a good…” I wrestled with the right word and stuttered the one which emerged. “… friend… to me.”
A flicker of a frown crossed Victor’s features. “And you to me.” A heaviness settled on him, one which made my stomach twist in a much different manner. Fuck. He had misinterpreted what I was trying to say. “Is that what you came to tell me, friend?” he asked in a subdued manner.
“No…” I spoke the word quickly, almost as a start, and followed it with a shaky breath. My grin turned coy, while I suppressed the urge to swallow hard. I heard an echo of the word ‘friend’ in my mind and fought against the inclination to mutter profanities under my breath, opting instead not to break eye contact. My tone of voice became quieter, more tender. “No, I have been… Have been doing a lot of thinking since we parted company last night.” I chuckled. “I can scarcely believe some of the things I have been thinking, truth be known.”
Victor eyed me steadily for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking, dear brother?” He seemed to turn the notion around in his mind until a slow grin curled the corner of his mouth. If I had a pulse, my heart might have leaped into my throat. His gaze turned more deliberate, slightly coy and knowing. “I am curious, but also patient. Whenever you are inclined to tell me, I will be willing to listen.”
For a few seconds, we held the gaze, neither of us speaking. I studied him and he studied me and I would have sworn in that moment, we asked the same question of the other. Did we hear what we thought we heard? Did he mean what we thought he meant? I inched closer to the edge of my chair and nodded. “Perhaps when I can believe what it is I am thinking, dear brother. I know I said friend a few moments ago, but…” The precipice stood before me. I nodded, scared, but resolute. “… You are so much more to me.”
“Yes, I know precisely what you mean.” He continued looking at me until he rose to his feet and walked over to where I sat. I remained frozen, curious and wondering at what he was doing until our eyes met again. Victor stopped before me and hesitated, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead, his fingers lifting to touch my shoulder. I shut my eyes when his lips made contact with my skin. As he motioned to pull away, I acted without thought.
My hand snapped up and captured his free one. Slowly, my eyes opened. He looked at me and I, at him, and I held him in place as my voice descended to a whisper. I needed to say it, but feared the response. Dipping my toes in the water of truth, I spoke as much as I dared say without knowing how he felt. “I care for you, Victor.” Further words danced upon my tongue, but I suppressed them and waited. Hoped.
Victor’s hand tightened around mine. His gaze softened and I felt a rush of warmth inside me as it seemed happiness laid somewhere inside the way his chestnut-colored irises regarded me. “And I care for you, Peter. I have for some time now.”
The air around me lightened, a burden I did not know I was carrying lifting from my shoulders. I nodded, smiling. “I have, too, if I had to be honest with myself. And if I had to be honest with you…” My grip on his hand tightened as well, drawing courage from the simple touch. My grin broadened despite myself. “I love you.”
Victor swallowed hard, the look in his eyes transforming to that of wonder. I basked in the expression as he spoke. “You are the first person in quite a long while to say those words to me. But you are the only person who has heard it from me in return.” He drifted closer, bending forward. One of his legs brushed against mine, his lips hovering above mine. His eyes flicked down toward them before raising once more. “I love you.”
My heart soared into the cosmos. The first person to whom he had spoken those words. The mere invocation of the sentiment; he loved me. Fates be praised, I had precisely what I had yearned for before my eyes and I could not stop myself. I breathed in his scent. I shut my eyes. Slowly, steadily I inched forward until I felt our lips touch. Finally, after weeks of building up – after days of indecision – I kissed Victor, mouths touching in a firm, yet gentle, manner.
He kissed me back, the motion of our lips continuing in one caress followed by the next. His tenor turned encouraging and while I did not sense him wishing to rush anything, I could feel it. All of the time and tension spent in my presence and how much he must have been holding back all this time. His lips parted and he deepened the kiss, which sent shivers running up and down my spine. The hand not holding his raised to touch his face and while the contact burned my fingertips with desire, I threaded them back into his short, dark locks of hair and realized how much I needed this. How desperate I had been for it. My lips parted and I met the new tenor he established, pouring sentiment into the embrace.
Victor reacted at once. While our lips continued communicating where words seemed inadequate, he leaned even closer, his knee resting on the seat of my chair while his arm slid around my waist. The kiss deepened further still and I fought the urge to groan as I knew I was drowning. His taste lingered on my lips. His scent conspired to unravel me, making me hungry for more. As I felt him lifting me to a stand, I allowed the kiss to break, yet exhaled in such a shaky manner, I wondered where this all might stop and prayed it would not. It all struck me so oddly, yet I knew I was becoming hard and would only become all the more so long as this persisted. And yet, I silently asked him for it, crashing my lips into his again once I stood before him. My hands lowered and slid around his waist until they pressed against his back and drew him against me. Both of his arms wrapped around me as well and his tongue touched my lips, issuing the question without breaking the kiss again. I felt the sharp points of his fangs as they ran down.
My fangs descended and my lips parted, granting him entry.
The point of no returned loomed before us, but neither of us seemed willing to reconsider.
Instead, my tongue slid into his mouth and danced with his as my hands explored his back. In my mind’s eye, I saw the night before, his naked body a feast before my eyes, and envisioned each muscle and sinew while my fingers ran across the fabric of his clothing. The taste of blood filled my mouth while our fangs scratched at each other’s lips and I could not tell if the lust latent in the crimson offering originated from him or me. ‘Both of us perhaps,’ I thought, then I sampled another few droplets. ‘Yes, definitely both of us.’ His hands claimed greedy purchase on my ass and pushed us roughly together. I felt him just as aroused as I was and moaned into the kiss, the motion of my lips on his turning hungry and searching. The love I felt for him remained a steady undercurrent, but need beyond my wildest dreams rocketed through my entire body.
I thrust him against me in response. Victor moaned. One of the hands resting on my ass slid upward as he growled and pulled my shirt free from my pants. Both hands slid underneath the fabric, touching my bare skin and tracing across the topography of my back. I groaned at the contact. ‘Yes, yes… Gods, yes… Yes, more of that,’ I chanted in my private thoughts, untucking his shirt as well and mirroring his actions to encourage him onward. Rough kisses and heavy groping littered the exchange until I dared one hand up and around to his chest. My lips ripped from his, a shaky breath being drawn inward and expelled as my eyes refused to open.
“I want you, Victor,” I whispered just before pressing my mouth hard against his again and daring the hand on his chest downward. I felt the muscles of his abdomen. I traced over the belt around his pants. Dipping lower still, I answered the challenge to myself and felt it for the first time, his erect length through the fabric of his pants. My digits wrapped around it and began to stroke, becoming more encouraged when Victor’s fingers dug into me and he broke the kiss with a much longer moan. He shivered in my grip and the reaction already had me intoxicated past the point I had been a few moments prior.
I became all the more so when he responded in kind.
It started with his hands both sliding around my front, his lips meeting mine again. When I felt his thumbs hook around my belt, I rocked my hips in a tacit plea for further contact. One hand broke free and cupped my length the same way I did his and stroked me in time to the rhythm I established. This time, I was the one forced to part the kiss to moan and establish contact once the need to touch his tongue with mine became overwhelming.
His other hand slid up my chest. Then it lowered only to raise freed from the prison of my shirt. The buttons began to part in a hasty manner and I mimicked the actions with my unoccupied hand and his vest, his shirt. I unthreaded his tie and felt my chest exposed to the air before Victor’s hand pushed the fabric from my shoulders. I freed my fingers from their pursuits to allow the shirt and jacket to fall to the ground, but touched him again in the same manner until his chest was exposed as well. After his arms slid from the confines of his garments, they rapidly wrapped around me and pulled me flush against him, allowing our bare chests to touch for the first time.
One of my hands found his back. The other wrapped around his rigid length again and stroked much more in earnest. I felt his hands slid around to the buckle of my belt and did not stop him. Not even when the leather slackened and the button of my pants unfastened under the orchestration of skilled hands. His fingers slid beneath my trousers and cupped my ass. I found myself playing the mimic once again. Only this time, when the waistband of his pants opened, I dipped one hand underneath his boxers and touched the erect cock I had been toying with through the fine linen mere seconds ago. ‘Yes,’ my thoughts cried out, in a notion I could not be entirely certain I did not telepathically broadcast. My fingers set to exploring. Touching. Running over every inch and marveling in some distant corner of my mind at being able to do this to another man.
Victor, however, was not about to let my ministrations go unanswered. I felt him shove my pants and boxers down past my hips and his lips kiss along my throat, fangs scratching and drawing blood. While that sensation was erotic enough, the hand trailing down to join my stroking made me shiver. Victor’s fingers wrapped around mine and served as a tacit demonstration of what he enjoyed while we both worked on stroking him. My mind became a blur, faintly aware of me kicking off my shoes and tossing aside my garments, pushing down his pants and boxers with my unoccupied hand and him shedding the barrier of clothing as well. Every stitch of fabric became forfeit until we both stood naked before each other. He freed his hand to wrap around me and I spoke it aloud, “Yes…” when he touched the most sensitive parts of me.
“Gods, Peter…” He whispered against my skin. His tongue trailed across the wounds his teeth inflicted. My eyes rolled back. I became lost in the cravings of my own body, groping Victor as he groped me in return. I felt my sentiments surging in equal measure to my desires and knew what laid ahead. Especially when his fingers toyed at my opening and thrust inside. The strange and new sensations throttling through me caused my eyes to widen at first, until my lids fluttered shut again. I groaned despite myself and for a few moments, he and I became a tangled mess of stroking, groping, and exploring until my lips took their turn kissing down his neck and I whispered, “Gods, Victor,” back to him.
I barely had chance to lick closed the small wounds before he acted.
My knees had already become weak from the sensation of his digits pumping in and out of me, but when he freed them, he threw me down onto the ground and climbed on top of me, his eyes bright with unadulterated lust when they met mine. Victor’s hands guided me in position before touching his length and poising it where his fingers had been no more than a few moments prior. I tensed slightly, but groaned despite myself, too hungry and too lost to dare question what he intended to do. Instead, my entire body begged for it. Our eyes locked and his seemed to ask for permission first, half-lidded with his actions barely restrained.
I nodded at him. “I ask you for it, lover,” I said, using the new term for the first time, but communicating precisely how I felt about us proceeding forward. The ultimate surrender laid before me and I waited for it, hands settling on his arms, knees bent, eyes just as consumed with desperation. I clutched hold of him tight when he pressed forward and for a moment, exquisite pain accompanied the initial sensation of him entering me. “Oh… Gods…” I moaned, once the initial bursts of discomfort gave way to a delicious form of pleasure until I felt myself floating somewhere in a state of pure euphoria. I attempted to figure out where to land, hovering somewhere between adjusting to a steady pace and demanding a more forceful coupling. My fingers dug into his arms more pointedly as I felt him slip out and assert himself back in with a much more decisive thrust.
“Peter… Lover…” He whispered, but the actions soon took us both under. He moved in a much more deliberate manner, slow at first, and holding back, but eager for more. As the pace became more fluid, light danced before my eyes and the pleasure mounted, building one layer atop the next. I attempted to keep my eyes focused on Victor, but before long, the haze settling over me forced my lids shut with a steady stream of moans growing in volume past my parted lips. Victor’s arms slid around me. One hand freed to fist around my length. I groaned and felt my fingers nearly drawing blood with the way they claimed purchase on Victor’s arms. He kissed the side of my throat and encouraged me in a husky tone of voice, warning when he reached the limits of his restraint.
I called out his name and flew over the edge with him, into oblivion without being able to settle on one sensation in particular to focus on past the blinding orgasm and muscles knitted in tension, unraveling in a rapid manner when I finally reached my climax. Moan after moan marked a heady crescendo which forced my eyes shut with each ripple of completion more pointed than the last. I hardly noticed when Victor ceased moving, but a shiver marked the final pulse ripping through me. Slowly, I opened my eyes to regard him, a sated smile curling the corners of my mouth upward.
His eyes opened as well. At first, he seemed lost in the same cloud of haze I still floated in, but as he looked down at me, he swallowed hard and motioned forward until his lips met mine in a gentle, reverent kiss. The action communicated more than words in a moment more important than I could have dared to imagine. I kissed him back, my hands sliding to wrap my arms around him, holding him tight even when he slipped from me. He settled to my side and for a moment, we simply held each other, savoring the moment together.
Finally, I opened my eyes to regard him again and smiled. “I love you, Victor,” I whispered.
Victor mirrored my grin and nodded. “And I love you, Peter.” He stole a quick glance around and chuckled when he looked at me again. “It occurs to me we’re laying on the floor.”
I laughed and his grin broadened in response. “Yes, it would appear that way, would it not?”
“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Would you care for a better tour of the house? Namely…” He smiled in something of a devilish manner. “… The bedroom.”
Our gaze converged and I nodded, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I would love it, Maestro.”
Victor nodded, kissing me again before standing and helping me to my feet. We gathered our clothing and crossed the house, back toward the music room and where Victor typically slumbered during the day. It did not take long for us to fall onto the bed and become tangled once again, but by the time the evening hours waned into the earliest embers of dawn, we clutched onto one another tight, sentiments spilling past our lips until sleep threatened to take us under.
For that night, I could revel once again in what it felt like to love and be loved. Deeper than the past year, hearkening back to the days when Monica and I first allowed ourselves the forbidden emotions we began to exchange. Except, if I had to be honest with myself, the fire blossoming between me and Victor bore a level of intensity even I had not experienced and could not compare to anything else which had preceded it.
I shut my eyes and felt my heart swell before I drifted asleep. I knew it was his, and his it would be from this point forth. Only one being seemed to have the ability to possibly disrupt the peace and passion my new lover and I discovered with one another.
His name was Flynn and I knew he was lurking, waiting for the right moment to make his presence known.
