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| Haunted Manse |
Part One
As the massive, and somewhat rotting, doors swung open, the stench of stale air and decaying wood assaulted the man standing on the other side. Severin wrinkled his nose and took a step back. Vincent paid his assistant little mind, and picking up the bag with his laptop in it, he stepped over the threshold. Behind him, Severin grumbled."Vince, are you certain this is where you want to be? There are many deserted houses and such throughout the Welsh countryside, you know."
Vincent slid his finger through a thick layer of dust on a table by the door and looked around. "I am certain."
From his spot near the top of the stairs, Rhys watched silently as the intruders entered the house. None had dared to live in the haunted manse for close to five years. From the sight of the baggage carried by the one man, it seemed obvious somebody was moving in now. Unseen, Rhys froze in his position as he felt the yawning stir of the darkness of the house. The sentinel hadn't awoken in more than ten years, and Rhy prayed this wasn't enough to disturb him now. Relief ran through him as he felt the presence settle back into the oblivion it lived in. Gliding down the stairs, Rhys moved closer to investigate the two.
"This place is…" Severin paused and Vincent looked back at him, a dark eyebrow lifting in question. "It's hideous," Severin said finally.
Vincent chuckled. "And you think this disturbs me?" He walked around the entry hall, taking in the cobwebs hanging from the moth-eaten tapestries, the blanket of dust covering nearly every surface possible. A suit of armor stood to the right of a magnificent staircase, the dark slits in the helmet seeming to peer out at the new arrivals.
"Didn't say it bugs you," Severin grumbled. He dropped the suitcases at the foot of the staircase and gave the towering steps a crude, cursory glance. "Doesn't look fit to live in."
"If you really wish it, you're welcome to live in town," Vincent said as he started up the staircase. "I will only call you when I need to feed."
Confident he would remain unseen; he drifted between the two before he slowly trailed behind Vincent. Very few mortals sensed him and he wasn't worried about it. He was no more than curious about who would want to live in this place. The few he'd seen in the last several years had been teenagers, daring to break into house after being egged on by their peers. None of the inhabitants of the house paid much attention to the happenings in the house any more. Only Rhys still tended to be curious though he knew in time the interest would fade. Even now his interest had a detached, clinical quality and somehow he realized it should bother him but it no longer did.
Vincent stopped walking. The faintest trace of a smile edged across his lips. Unsurprisingly, they were not alone in this expanse of stone and wood. He didn't know what was here, but he could feel a presence watching them.
"Perhaps," he said as he turned to Severin. The man was picking up their bags and looked up. "Perhaps we should ask where the former lord's chambers are."
Severin snorted as he started up the stairs, a suitcase in each hand and a bag slung over his shoulder. "Ask who? The dust bunnies?"
Vincent leaned forward and whispered, "the occupant of this keep."
Severin's face lost all its color. "Wh-what are you talking about?"
"We are not alone, my friend."
Severin remained silent for several minutes as Vincent turned and continued up the steps. "You're fucking weird, Vince," he muttered. "Even for a vampire."
When Vincent stopped, he didn't. Rhy continued on his way up the stairs, drifting through Vincent. At the top of the stairs, he turned to stare at the other. The last word of their conversation caught his attention. A vampire? He'd never seen of those before and he studied Vincent with a flickering rise of curiosity.
His chuckle whispered through the hallway with a dry rustle of sound as if from very far away, but oddly close. A faint chill filled the air with the increase exercise of power from him, and one of the doors, further down the hallway, opened.
Vincent looked down the hallway and smiled. "Thank you," he said to the empty whisper of air. Little fazed him anymore, but judging from the look of sudden fear on Severin's face, it was apparent his friend and donor wasn't so convinced. Vincent chuckled as he started down the hallway.
Severin followed him, and rather closely at that. When they reached the doorway, Vincent pushed it open the rest of the way. White sheets covered every surface but the massive, four-poster bed. Thick drapes of deep red brocade hung from the canopy, framing the dark-wood bed. Severin dropped the suitcases down and let the bag slip from his shoulder. "Well, at least it's a big bed," he said.
Vincent turned and smiled. "Yes, very true."
Severin walked up to him and slid his hands up Vincent's arms, then over his shoulders. "Are you hungry?"
Not missing the hopeful tone of his friend's voice, Vincent set his laptop bag on the floor, before slipping an arm around Severin's waist. "As a matter of fact," he whispered as he brushed Severin's hair from his neck, "I am."
Rhys had only been trying to be helpful; he hadn't meant to frighten anybody. That was the sentinel's job, not his.
After they entered the room, he stood back. Now would be when he should disappear into the further reaches of the house, yet he hung back. Curiosity to watch this vampire tugged at him, and he settled at the edge of the bed, still unseen. Rhy hadn't felt the emotion for some time.
The last occupants of the house had been a newlywed couple, and their antics had bored Rhys so he had left them alone. After they left, the years stretched into a timeless monotony, undisturbed except for the occasional midnight break in and sleepover of curious teenagers. Naturally with his first chance to study a vampire up close, Rhy felt reluctant to give him any privacy.
A dozen butterfly-light kisses danced over Severin's throat before Vincent's fangs dropped to sink deep inside the smooth flesh. Severin's arms circled his neck, holding him close as he fed. He drank lightly, not wanting to overdo it so soon after the last. He had just fed from Severin only two hours before, but this was more for Severin's enjoyment than his own nourishment. As he pulled away from Severin's neck, he licked the wounds, sealing them completely.
"Please, Vince," Severin pleaded, his eyes halfway closed as his breath remained ragged. Desperation sounded in his voice and Vincent simply could not deny him.
He backed Severin up to the bed and pressed him down onto it.
Watching intently, Rhys remained frozen until the two of them ended up on the bed. He swiftly scrambled to get out of the way and continued watching from his safe position near one of the corners up by the ceiling.
As he descended over his friend's body, Vincent left soft kisses in his wake. When he reached Severin's crotch, he quickly unfastened his jeans and pulled the hard length of his cock out. He touched his tongue to the slit and Severin's hands threaded through his hair.
"Yes. Please, Vince…"
Vincent chuckled and opened his mouth, taking all of Severin into it. Fingers tightened in his hair and he began stroking the hard length, mirroring the movements of his lips up and down the shaft. It didn't take much more than that. Severin groaned as he came, filling Vincent's mouth. Vincent swallowed and licked him clean before moving back up for a kiss.
"Better?"
Severin nodded. "Oh, yeah."
The house itself seemed to suddenly come alive to Rhys' senses. Whispers floated through the halls and into the room, heard only by him. Sensing the restlessness filling Rhy, the house reacted in a beckoning welcome to draw him back to where he belonged. It wasn't his place to feel anything towards the living and the whispers reminded him of the fact.
Still he remained hidden in the darkness of the corner, his gaze fastened on Vincent even as he felt the stronger pull of the force of the house.
Vincent slid off of Severin and watched as his friend stood on shaky legs. Severin smoothed his polo shirt out and gave Vincent a lop-sided grin.
"Never fails. When you feed, I feel like I'm drunk as hell." Severin leaned down to kiss him, then straightened back up. "I'm going to finish moving stuff in."
Vincent nodded and waited until Severin left the room before saying anything.
"I know you're here. I can feel you. I can feel the energy of this place as well."
He stood and walked over to a stately form under a white shroud. He pulled the cover off and stared at the mirror, seeing nothing but the bed and the room behind him.
"It's been so long since I've seen myself," he said quietly. "So long, that I've forgotten what I even look like."
The stronger the pull of the house, the more stubborn Rhy became, refusing to give into the persuasive attempt. Slowly, he descended back to the floor when Severin left. Moving towards Vincent, he watched him silently as he stilled behind him.
"How is it you feel those things?" His whispered sounded close to Vincent's ear. As he moved to stand beside him, Rhys' gaze lingeringly drifted down over the mass of ebony hair. For a silent moment, he took in the strong, chiseled features unlined by any sense of years, and he wondered how old the vampire was. A darker aspect seemed to have taken up residence in the dark brown eyes when Vincent turned his head in Rhys' direction.
Rhys sensed the loneliness behind the words and beneath the facade of strength. The general interest he'd felt at first deepened over this curious creature. How could such an incredibly handsome man be lonely?
"Ah, so you are not a figment of a lonely imagination." Vincent smiled, although there was little happiness within it. "I feel much that most cannot. You watched us; you watched me feed. So you know what I am."
He turned fully around and held out his hand. Only the slightest change in temperature, along with a soft ripple over his flesh, gave any hint of something standing beside him. With a somewhat dejected sigh, he let his hand fall back to his side.
"Let me see you, if only to know the one to whom I am speaking."
"I've never seen anyone like you." Slowly Rhys gained insubstantial shape, looking much as he did in life. From his expression, it was clear he wasn't sure what to make of Vincent. Dressed in an era long gone, the tight black jacket and knee breeches seem to fit his presence. And the waterfall of lace at his throat and the cuffs of the white shirt seemed as pristine as they were the last day of his life.
He stood next to Vincent, smiling slightly. "It's not often that anybody really wants to see me either."
Taking in the sight of the young man before him, a genuine smile settled on Vincent's lips for the first time in quite a while. His own black turtleneck and black slacks looked remarkably bland compared to the young man's stately dress. As his gaze traveled over the slender form, his smile widened slowly. When he reached the young man's face, he felt a spark within him, one he had long-thought dead. The most beautiful emerald eyes stared back at him, full of wonder. Framed by a mass of red curls, the youthfulness of the man's face left Vincent speechless for several minutes.
"I can't see why that would be so," he said when he finally found his voice. "You are a very handsome young man. What is your name?"
Rhys couldn't help chuckling at the comment. "I suppose it has to do with me being a ghost. Some don't mind, but most that inhabited this house did mind. Until some of them found out what the other side was like. I'm Rhys Kelly, or I was."
A lively sparkle glittered in his eyes as he studied Vincent in turn. "I didn't even know someone like you existed. But then I don't get out much." His words held a note of humor.
Vincent lifted a dark eyebrow in amusement. "Someone like me? I am only a man."
He glanced back into the mirror before he draped the sheet over it once more. The movement was almost automatic to him now. He turned back to Rhys and then moved over to sit down on the bed. He studied him in silence for a moment before speaking again.
"If you don't mind me asking, how did you die? You tell me, and I'll tell you how I did."
Tilting his head slightly, Rhy glanced at the mirror before looking back at Vincent. A slow gaze traveled over him, finding much of interest before his eyes returned to his. The chocolate brown and its hint of much more beneath the surface held his attention. "I thought you wanted to know what you looked like. Did you never have a portrait done of yourself?"
He paused before moving slowly towards Vincent, a slight shrug of his shoulders accompanied his words. "My mother poisoned me. She didn't want me to inherit because she believed I was a wastrel."
"Nice woman," Vincent quipped sarcastically. "As for myself…" He sighed as he stretched out on the bed on his back, staring up at the underside of the canopy. "I once knew what I looked like, but it's been so long, that I've simply forgotten. No bother, I suppose, as no one but Severin seems to give a damn anymore. All those I once loved are long dead. I'm surprised Severin remains with me."
He closed his eyes and swallowed, knowing damn well the tears were there, just under the surface, even after nearly seven hundred years. "I was once a lord, of an estate much like this one. I had a wife and two sons. Then war came. As a king's knight, I fought alongside many others, but it did not last. I was thought dead and left on the battlefield. When I woke up once more, I found myself the guest of a young scribe. I thought nothing of it at the time, until he offered me a chance to heal completely."
Vincent opened his eyes and the tears slipped free. "He failed to tell me many things. Due to the fears of the age, I watched my family from afar as they all grew old and died before my eyes. I was powerless to stop it." He looked at Rhys and tried to smile. "Ah, but I do not mean to bore you with details of a knight's life. I am merely seeking to find a place to exist, I suppose. Life and love have left me, I think."
"She was right, you know. My younger brother managed the estate far better than I would have." If nothing, he'd learned practicality being dead this long. He listened silently to Vincent as he hovered near the bed. The emotion behind the words had no true effect on him other than to remind him he'd forgotten how things affected the living.
"Don't you find peace, Vincent?" His body floated as he sat cross legged, the drift settling him just beneath the canopy near Vincent. "I understand your words but I'm not certain why it would bother you."
Rhy did his best to try to comprehend what Vincent might feel and from the tears that fell, he understood that it still influenced the vampire.
"Don't mind me," Vincent said with wry smile. "I'm merely an old, romantic fool, one who has lost the meaning of life, yet still searches for it. I've forgotten what it's like to love, to kiss someone because you want to and not just because it helps them to deal with the pain of your bite."
Part Two
He watched Rhys curiously for a moment, wondering if the young man had ever known love before his life had been snatched away. Finding his thoughts wandering a bit more in a direction he felt he couldn’t go, he turned the conversation to that of the house. "And what of this house? I can feel the energies here, yet you are the only one I gain an immediate sense of.""I am trying to understand. So I don't mind you speaking as you do. You are the first in many years who spoke directly to me." Even knowing it wasn't his place to interact with the world; Rhys still could be lured by the promise of that. "There are others here but they lost any interest in the living a long time ago. Mostly they stay in the depths of the house and only speak amongst themselves."
A spark of something showed briefly in Rhys’ eyes before he continued. "I am becoming very much like them. And I really shouldn't be here. They keep telling me I have no place among those who still live." Frowning slightly, he momentarily seemed lost in thought before he continued. "I suppose they are right. I can remember feeling things a very long time ago, but it's just a memory for me."
"Would it matter if I were to tell you that, in essence, I do not live?" A wistful smile settled on Vincent's lips and for a moment, it reflected in his eyes. "I must drink blood in order to keep my body functioning, but it's akin to a mechanical act now. I once enjoyed it and I still do on occasion with Severin, but there is no intimate love there. I think that is what I miss the most."
He sighed and sat up, resting back on his hands as he looked up at Rhys. For the briefest moment, he caught himself wondering what the young man would have been like in life, if the sweet innocence of his face extended into other realms. He allowed his gaze to drift slowly over the form hovering over his bed and then he grumbled when his thoughts strayed to wanting a kiss. He shook his head and looked away, muttering, "Bad idea," under his breath.
"No, you exist in the world of living and interact with it in a way that is lost to me. I have the power to do the same in a way, but only in this place and not for long periods of time." Rhys found himself staring back at Vincent, and for the first time, feeling a hint of regret. The emotion itself only brought sadness with it, something he perceived from a distance in himself with some surprise. He'd thought he was incapable of feeling much. Tilting his head again, he spoke in a soft voice. "I'm not sure I even remember what love felt like. I felt it once but it's faded, like something pleasant but insubstantial."
Vincent stood and continued to argue with himself. Was he really that desperate, that a ghost looked appealing? Hell, if it was only sex he wanted, he could go downstairs and drag Severin off and relieve the tension, but it was more than that. Vincent looked at Rhys then turned away, unsure of how to deal with what was going through his head. He only thanked God that Rhys could not read minds.
"I remember it well," Vincent said finally. He began pacing, a fresh bout of hunger welling up inside him in response to his inner turmoil. "It's like a thousand moths in the pit of your stomach; like you're walking without touching the ground. It's like…" His words died out as he caught Rhys' gaze. "Loving someone…is like having an addiction, one that you would do anything for."
His eyes followed Vincent's movements, taking in the agitation of motion but not fully understanding the reasoning for it. Slowly his form lowered closer to the bed as he said, "The last time I loved, it was a little girl. She was only four when she first came to this house. I protected her at night, and she loved me chasing her through the gardens. But then she grew up and forgot me. Her name was Amelia. I remember her. It hurt when her parents sent her away to school, and when she returned, she didn't remember me at all. So I stayed away from her."
Rhys’ brow furrowed as he tried to recall how long ago that had been. Time had been become indistinguishable to him on many levels. Day became night, only to become day again without his notice most times.
Vincent stopped pacing and finally rested his forehead to the wall beside the bed. "I know the pain of being forgotten," he said quietly. "I sometimes think that, were it not for Severin, I might forget myself."
He laughed somewhat bitterly. "The last person I loved was a young stable hand named Erik. It wasn't long after I became the monster I am. And as is always the danger of becoming involved with the living when you cannot die, I had to watch him grow old. Before I realized the time that had passed, he was dead too."
Vincent groaned and turned, sliding down the wall to the floor. He rested his arms on his knees and let his head fall back slightly. He looked over at Rhys and gave up trying to hide the need in his eyes, although he expected nothing of the same.
Rhys began to understand the difficulty Vincent faced in his own dealings with the living, and the fact the vampire had no place of peace to retreat to. "Of the living, yet not of them. And it still brings you a great of pain."
Stretching from his position, Rhys drifted to the edge of the bed and then past it, closer to Vincent. As he settled to the floor in front of Vincent, his form gained a more solid substance. It required a great deal of his power to do so. Uncertain of what showed so starkly in the vampire's eyes, Rhys smiled slowly, offering Vincent his hand. There was no real heat to his body because he couldn't generate that; he was only a ghost temporarily drawing on a cosmic sense of energy to give himself a form.
Vincent hesitated for a moment, and then reached out, slipping his hand over Rhys'. The lack of heat was nothing new to him, since his own body held it only when he fed. He looked up into those green eyes and drew Rhys' hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. "I had not expected you to come into form," he said quietly.
As he stared at the young man before him, the pain within Vincent grew. He closed his eyes and simply pressed Rhys' palm to his cheek, grateful for at least a minute amount of contact. Perhaps next time he fed, he would relieve his own tension. But even that was becoming painful, having no one to fully enjoy such intimate acts with him. Severin was a friend, but nothing more.
"I don't think I'm so far gone that I don't recognize a soul in pain, Vincent. And there is too much pain inside of you." Rhys let Vincent keep his hand though the touch of his lips surprised him. When the vampire pressed it to his face, his fingers softly stroked to Vincent’s skin in a comforting caress.
The restless whispers that had rustled through the house silenced for the moment. No one had the inclination to disturb Rhys' attempt to help the new occupant. Rhys relaxed more without the incessant barrage buzzing in his thoughts.
"It's been a long time since anyone has touched me," Vincent whispered. His eyes remained closed as he turned his face into Rhys' touch, stopping when his lips touched the young man's palm. The fear of wanting too much began to surface, and he dropped his own hands to his sides with a pained groan.
"Being a vampire is a living hell," he grumbled. "Never let anyone tell you different. I've gotten to the point where pleasure is superficial. I can't bear the thought of growing attached to someone, only to have them die before me. I can't do it anymore."
"Haven't you made any like yourself?" Rhys asked curiously. Even when Vincent's hand dropped, his own maintained the contact he knew Vincent wanted. It had been a very long time since he'd touched anybody, and he had forgotten the soft feel of skin beneath his fingertips. As he watched Vincent, his fingers slowly traced the line beneath the vampire’s lips and then dipped lower to his chin.
"I would never put this curse on anyone," Vincent said. He started to say more, but when Rhys' fingers neared his mouth, his lips parted, as if acting on instinct. The urge to draw them in was near impossible to resist. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and touch Rhys in turn, but he neither knew how Rhys would react, nor did he know if he could keep it at simple touches.
"I asked Severin, once. He turned the opportunity down, saying he had no desire to live forever." He fell silent as he stared into Rhys' eyes. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he lifted his hand to touch Rhys' face. He cupped the delicate curve of his jaw and slid his fingertip over Rhys’ lips.
Uncertain of what he was seeing in Vincent's face, Rhys silently stared back at him. The unexpected touch threw him slightly, but he didn't pull away. Very few willingly touched him and none had ever looked at him as Vincent did. His own hand stilled beneath Vincent’s chin and the delicate press to his lip drew an equally unexpected reactive shiver.
"Here we do not die. Though I don't know if the others will speak to you. Maybe once they understand you, they might. You are like us and the world of the living carries the same pain as it does with us."
"I wish…" Vincent's words trailed off and he shook his head. What he wanted would most likely not be welcomed…or given. He couldn't find the will to pull his hand away, and let it slip down Rhys' neck, following the curve of his throat. His fingers brushed through the silky curls of his hair, and Vincent allowed himself a brief smile.
"What is it you wish?" Rhys’ voice lowered to a softer whisper as he added, "It has been so long since anyone touched me. I had forgotten how good it felt." As he closed his eyes, his head tipped towards Vincent's hand and then nudged in against it. "You are very unusual, Vincent. Not many want to speak to a ghost let alone touch them as you are touching me."
"I would wish…for a kiss." Vincent closed his eyes, simply enjoying the contact between them. "It's been so long," he whispered.
Rhys opened his eyes in surprise. Once again he was completely uncertain of the situation and Vincent. "Why would you wish to kiss me?"
"Because you are beautiful. And you show me kindness when others would not even care."
Yes, the request itself was strange to Rhys. Most definitely nobody had ever wanted to kiss him since he died. He silently considered what Vincent was asking before he spoke again. "I don't think it would hurt anything."
Pausing for a moment, Rhys listened to the house and nothing made a sound.
Vincent opened his eyes and hesitated a moment before sitting up and forward. He cupped Rhys' face in both hands, then stilled. "You are so young," he said. "Do you even know what it is I ask?"
Gazing steadily at him, Rhy answered him, "I believe you want someone to connect to. Someone who might understand you." In that, he saw far deeper into Vincent than the vampire might have intended.
Rhy already understood Vincent had nothing and no one. Many of the things Rhys had long ago accepted, were the things Vincent struggled with now. So he did, to a degree, recognize what drove the vampire to try to connect to him.
With the light touch of Vincent's lips, his own brushed softly against them, seeking the touch for its own sake. That he could even still feel the simple beauty surprised him and brought with it the memories of things long forgotten. His hand slipped up into Vincent's hair, gently tightening.
A soft sound escaped Vincent and a small shiver slid through him with the touch. When his lips touched to Rhys' again, he snaked his tongue out the slightest bit, wanting to taste. And needing to touch. It had been so long, so long since he kissed someone…just for the sake of kissing them.
Rhys’ lips parted slightly, swallowing the small sound Vincent made as his mouth covered Vincent’s. The noise itself told Rhys a great deal about the desperation behind the simple action. Shifting slightly closer, the tip of his tongue slowly circled Vincent's. The sensation gave him a quiet enjoyment with the momentary connection to another. Why the vampire would choose him for this was beyond Rhys' comprehension. Still he couldn't help but respond to the touch of Vincent's lips and tongue as they drew things from him he'd almost totally forgotten. The clinical detachment Rhys had to come to view the world in began to melt the slightest bit. He was by no means detached from this.
Vincent no longer cared if Rhys was alive or dead; he was here and he was responding to Vincent in ways no one had in quite some time. Vincent slipped his fingers through Rhys' hair and tilted his head the slightest bit, deepening their kiss. The fear within him began to melt away, and he knew, at least in this moment, here was someone who could not die. He wanted to touch, to feel hands on him, but he kept his hands buried in Rhys' hair, too afraid to move them. As he pulled slowly from their kiss, a touch of regret, of quiet desperation, was visible in his eyes as he smiled.
"Thank you," he whispered.
When Vincent pulled back, Rhys was bemused. He'd had no idea he could even still feel such things. Staring at Vincent, he blinked before he shook his head slightly. "Perhaps I should thank you. I didn't even know I could feel anything at all anymore."
Part Three
Rhys' hand remained within Vincent's hair, strands of the lush ebony coiled to his fingers. Why didn't he want to draw his hand back? Unsure of precisely what had possessed him, Rhys continued watching the vampire in a bemused fashion. He could see the emotions that no longer hid themselves beneath the surface in Vincent. The vampire's need to connect was something Rhys didn't fully understand, but it was there in front of him. And for some reason it was directed at him.Vincent closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath. "I am sorry. I..." He opened his eyes again and stared at a point somewhere over Rhys' left shoulder. "I haven't done that in long while, and now...now I find myself wanting things I should not want."
He reached up and covered one of Rhys' hands with his own, bringing it down to his mouth. He kissed Rhys' palm softly, then slowly moved his lips down Rhys’ fingers until he reached the tips. He pressed a light kiss to each one, and with a soft sigh, he drew two of them into his mouth. He couldn't stop the sound that escaped him then--something between a whimper of longing, and a moan. He had never had trouble controlling himself, but for some ungodly reason, he did now.
"Nothing to be sorry for..." Whatever else Rhys might have said didn't come out as he felt the trail of Vincent's lips to his skin and the wetness of his mouth engulfing his fingers. He'd never been attracted to a living being, not that he could recall. His gaze slid downward to watch and the sensation sent a small rush through him. A questioning look crept into his eyes as he whispered, "You want more. From me?"
His other hand moved from Vincent’s hair to cup to the vampire’s cheek, trying to understand what Vincent might be asking of him. In his entire existence, it never occurred to Rhys that anybody would truly want him.
Vincent let Rhys' fingers slip from his mouth and he licked his lips. He tried to bite back the hunger, he really did, but this time the hunger for something other than blood ate away at him. Still, he fought the urges within him.
"I do," he said quietly. He lowered his gaze, knowing if he continued to look into Rhys' eyes, that the need would only get worse. "And I am sorry for that. You would think that after so long, I would become to immune to the temptations provided by beautiful young men."
Rhys was a ghost--something most of the living wanted nothing to do with. There had been no real opportunity for any form of co-existence outside of the dictates of what those alive expected. The few times he had been allowed to interact with anybody, nothing sexual had ever entered the equation. This was an entirely new frontier and Rhys wasn't even sure it was possible. His mind only contained the barest memories of the time he was ruled by his own lust.
"There's still nothing to be sorry for, Vincent. I'm just not sure I'm capable of returning what you might want. I feel some things but so many others are no more than a tiny glimpse of what once was when I was alive."
"I only want..." Vincent sighed. "I only want to touch," he said. "And be touched. With Severin, it is all mechanical, and I am always left feeling empty, even when I have fed." He fell back against the wall with a strained sigh. "I only wish to feel...with someone who cannot leave me. I have seen so many die, and I just want to touch, without the fear of death looming over us."
"But you can't feed from me, Vincent. My essence would give you no nourishment, not that I know of." At least Rhys didn't think it would. His hand reached back for Vincent's face, the backs of his fingers slowly brushing along the line of his jaw. "I can touch you. Though it requires a lot of energy to hold this form, and I can't hold it for longer than a few hours at a time."
His hand lowered to catch at Vincent and as he stood, he drew him with him. Rhys' fingers curled tightly to his. "The chance to have someone who wants me around and won't forget me is something I never expected."
Vincent reached up with his other hand and brushed his fingers over Rhys' lips. "It isn't blood I hunger for." He pulled Rhys to him slowly. "I need this..." He lifted his hand and placed it on Rhys’ chest, then slid it down his stomach. "I need to remember what it's like to feel."
"But can I give you even that, Vincent? I'm a ghost. When I return to my true form, I am nothing more than an insubstantial whisper to time itself." Normally it wasn't like Rhys to question, but this was far outside his limit of experience and knowledge. The slide of Vincent's hand against him was an odd sensation. Though Vincent was a vampire, there was still a vibration of life that Rhys could feel when Vincent touched him. It blossomed over him in a deeper touch. To one like him, it felt as if it held a promise, drawing him closer to something he could no longer touch on his own.
Vincent pulled his hand away and slipped it through Rhys' hair. But instead of kissing Rhys' lips, he kissed a slow path over his jaw, tipping Rhys' head back to kiss his neck softly. When he reached the hollow of Rhys' throat, he drew a light path over his skin with the tip of his tongue, until he reached Rhys' shoulder. He would do nothing more without consent, but God, how he wanted to taste, and touch.
"I need you," he whispered, his breath caressing Rhys' skin. He knew this tangible form gave Rhys minimal sensations, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the body against him, willing his touch, his breath, to seep deeper into Rhys, allowing him to feel.
Closing his eyes, Rhys felt the quiver over his essence as Vincent's tongue teased over his skin. "You say you aren't of the living, but I feel life in your touch," he whispered.
To his form, it was like an illusive, fragile sense of everything that comprised life itself, flowing over his skin. It touched something inside of him that had strived for so long to keep within his dead shell, only to slowly lose it over the decades. Could he even dare to allow the rebuilding of something that should remain dead in him? The warmth of it lured him undeniably.
"I can help you to feel," Vincent murmured as he moved to Rhys' ear. "If you will let me." Taking a chance and hoping against hope, he slipped his hand beneath Rhys' shirt. A soft catch of his breath met the touch to Rhys' flesh. As he danced his fingertips over the smooth skin, Vincent extended his powers to fill Rhys, giving him the ability to feel his caresses. He kissed Rhys' neck and pulled away to look at his face.
"Please…"
But what would be the cost of that feeling? A voice in Rhys’ mind tried to remind him through the haze of sensation sliding through him. Feeling Vincent's hand touching him more intimately than anybody had since he'd died drew the arching press of his body into that touch.
Somehow he should be able to deny what was happening but it wasn't in him to do that. More so with the soft plea that reached him from Vincent. Opening his eyes, Rhys tipped his head back slightly to see him. A half lidded look took in the soft brown one before he slowly nodded.
Vincent turned them until his back was to the bed, then he backed up. When his legs touched the bed, he sat down, pulling Rhys down with him. He turned and eased Rhys down as he began unbuttoning the young man's shirt. He pushed the shirt open and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Rhys' collarbone. As he moved his mouth over, he slipped his other hand down Rhys' stomach, settling his palm over the front of his pants.
"You feel so good," he murmured. He circled Rhys' left nipple with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth.
Part of Rhys argued with this because he wasn't real, not in the way he should be for Vincent. Stretching out against the bed, he shivered as Vincent's tongue teased his nipple. It'd been a very long time since he'd felt such sensations coursing through his body. The slight jerk of his hips pressed into Vincent’s hand. His own hands slid downward, caressing the soft material of the vampire’s sweater before he caught at the bottom. Edging beneath the hem, his fingers smoothed over Vincent's stomach.
Vincent gasped, exhaling softly over Rhys' nipple. He moved his mouth downward, over Rhys' stomach as he pulled Rhys’ pants down to his thighs. He licked his lips as the full sight of Rhys' cock greeted him. He looked up at Rhys, circling his cock with his lips, sliding them down the shaft. Sucking Severin off was never anything like this. Vincent pulled his mouth back up and circled his tongue around the head, holding Rhys' gaze as he did.
Rhys' eyes followed Vincent’s movements, letting Vincent partially undress him. A low groan rose in his throat with the first hot feel of Vincent's mouth taking him in. An uncontrollable upward thrust of his hips tried to push deeper into the vampire’s mouth as his hand cupped Vincent's cheek in a tender caress.
Rhys perceived a link forging between them, though he couldn't understand why or how. The sight of Vincent's face bewitched him and he was unable to look away. Watching Vincent's mouth fully devour his cock sent a rush through him, sharply increasing the sensitivity of his body. His voice was a husky whisper. "I've never seen anything so beautiful in my existence."
Vincent smiled and grazed his teeth along the length, taking care not to knick the skin with his fangs. When he reached the tip, he tongued the slit before he pulled back. "Have you ever fucked a man before?" He continued to stroke Rhys' cock slowly, varying the speed and pressure of his fist. "I need this," he said, squeezing the shaft for emphasis, "inside me. I need to feel."
"I have." Sitting up to rid himself of the rest of his clothing, Rhys slid his jacket off and then took off the shirt. It was damn hard to concentrate on saying anything as Vincent's hand continued to toy with him. "Much more of that and you'll be waiting a while before you feel what you want."
He released Rhys' cock with a soft chuckle and stood to remove his own clothing. He stopped, mesmerized as he took in the sight of Rhys. "You're beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful."
Avidly he watched Vincent as he undressed. The brush of the dark hair to Vincent's pale shoulder had Rhys itching to bury his fingers in the dark mass. "I think I'm going to see something even more beautiful very soon." Kneeling, he held his hand out to Vincent. The urgent need of his own body glittered in his eyes, and he needed very much to bury himself inside Vincent.
Taking Rhys' hand, Vincent crawled onto the bed. He stretched out on his back, locked his legs around Rhys' waist, and pulled him down. "I need you inside me," he murmured as he brushed his lips across Rhys'. "Please."
Rhys’ hands came to rest near each side of Vincent's head as he was drawn downward. The length of his body leaned into him, rubbing slowly against him. Their cocks slide together in a delicious friction, drawing another groan from Rhys. Wetting his hand, he quickly slicked over himself; his only thought was the beckoning body beneath him. "All I can think about is being inside you."
With the words, the head of his cock nudged in against Vincent's ass. As he pushed deeper, the tight sheath of Vincent's body drew him in. Lowering his head, Rhys brushed his lips to Vincent's earlobe as he whispered, "I need you. I need this with you." Knowing he'd been in danger of losing who he was to the dormancy of his state, he now craved the intimacy with Vincent. That alone might save him from the fate in store for him.
Vincent arched his body into Rhys, the hunger for the contact stronger now than it ever had been before. As Rhys settled inside him, Vincent shuddered. "Oh, God. Don't move," he breathed, holding Rhys' hips tightly with his hands. "Just…let me feel."
He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm himself. Seconds later, it didn't work. His eyes flew open and he rocked his hips, calling out Rhys' name as a deep orgasm bolted through his body.
"Fuck me," he pleaded breathlessly. "Please, Rhys, fuck me!"
A slow shudder rolled through Rhys' body as the fire burning in him flared into sharper life. The feel of his cock buried deep within Vincent played havoc inside of him. Lifting his head, he stared down at him, watching him with a hawk-like intensity. Rhys felt the contractions around his cock and had to control the urge spreading through him. Seeing Vincent's face lost in his own passion fascinated him. Only one word came from him, it was the only one he could say. "Exquisite."
His hips withdrew, only to drive swiftly back into Vincent’s body, the rhythm of his hips near punishing in his hunger to take Vincent. His gaze reflected his pleasure as it settled on Vincent's features. The sight of the darkening storm in Vincent's eyes and the feelings strengthening in him gave him a sense of life unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. "Don't stop…"
Vincent slipped a hand through Rhys' hair and pulled him down for a kiss. The driving force of Rhys' thrusts was something Vincent had not felt in ages it seemed, and as his tongue delved into Rhys' mouth, his hips rose to meet every stroke. It wasn't long before the need for release began to override him again and his own movements grew desperate.
Slipping his hand between them, Rhys closed it over Vincent's cock, mimicking the forceful thrusts of his hips. Hungrily, his tongue probed the vampire's mouth, stroking every surface he could reach until he had to break off the kiss.
"Vincent, yes. Close, so close." The hiss of words escaped him before his orgasm rolled through him completely. The pleasure sent his body into deep shudders as he cried out Vincent's name again, losing himself in the feel of Vincent's body and the pulses riding him. "Rhys!" Vincent's body shuddered hard and rocked beneath Rhys' as he came. His cock throbbed almost painfully in Rhys' fist, spreading heat between them. Sparks lit behind his closed eyes, and he was barely aware of the red tears as they escaped. It had been so long, much too long.
When his body stopped shaking, Vincent didn't open his eyes. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Rhys, holding him close as he kissed his neck, his shoulder. When he spoke, it sounded far away, even to his own ears. "Thank you." He swallowed as an ache began to form within him.
Rhys’ body strained to Vincent's, holding him tight to give them both time to come down from the passion they’d shared. Turning his head slightly, he pressed several kisses to every spot he could reach. The richness of sensation and emotion kept him enthralled and gave him far more than he'd had ever known in life.
"You've made me live for a moment." Rhys ignored the utter stillness of the house; there would be time enough for that later. Right now, he only wanted to savor what Vincent had given him.
"I came here to die," Vincent whispered. "Then I found you.” He nuzzled into Rhys' kisses, feeling the ache grow with each one. It wasn't an unpleasant ache, but it was something he no longer knew. Something he was no longer sure of. He let out a slow breath and cupped Rhys' head, lifting it so he could see his eyes. "Please. Don't let this be the last."
"I know. I sensed that, Vincent. But death isn't something to be so eagerly sought." Rhys stared at him steadily, the tenor of his voice a soft whisper. "I'm not sure what I can guarantee, but I know I don't want this to be our only time." Something in Rhys already demanded more, and was no longer satisfied with his sterile existence. Having been given the chance to feel again, he wasn't sure if he could go willing back into the place that divorced his being from needing this.
Sliding his fingers through Rhys' hair, Vincent pulled him down for a soft kiss. Despite the urge for release having been sated, this kiss went deeper, touching parts of Vincent he had long thought dead. The notion of that, and the brush to something inside him, drew out a soft whimper. Had he the choice, he would never sleep alone again.
The tender touch of his lips molded to Vincent's, the gentle sense to the kiss answering Vincent. Rhys knew he didn't have much longer. The disapproval of the denizens of the house blanketed him, and they were waiting for him. Already his energy had waned to its lowest ebb, and he tried to push himself for only a few moments more. His hand went to Vincent's hair, smoothing over the silkiness, echoing the same tenderness. "I'm always here, even if you can't see me."
"But I can feel you." Vincent kissed his lips and smiled, finally having a reason to. "And I am always here."
"I hope you can." Rhys knew the more energy he expended, the less trace left of him within the house when the time came for him to renew his own power. Raising his head, he returned the smile before he rolled off of Vincent. The one thing he didn't want to do was go ectoplasmic while on top of Vincent. As he moved towards the edge of the bed, his form began to fade before it disappeared completely; leaving no sign of him left, not even the clothing he had been wearing.
Vincent watched Rhys disappear and the ache sharpened. He closed his eyes, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. Severin would be back soon, if only to check on him. He would need to feed quite soon now, and he didn't want Severin to see him like this: red-streaked face and naked as the day he was born. He looked around the room as he slid off of the bed. He could feel Rhys, but the sensation went deeper than anything else could have. Perhaps there was a bit more to this life than he had given credit for.
Part Four
Rhys slipped through the house then stopped in one of the rooms in the back. The old manse was riddled with secret rooms and passages. His form became dormant and he lost sense of himself and his surroundings. Rhy remained completely unaware of anything while his energy rejuvenated. Not even the disgruntled whispers of the others reached him.When he came out of his state, every ghostly member of the house was waiting for him. Since it was near Christmas, the room had been decorated with festive touches of greenery and a tree lit with candles stood in the center of the room. For them, the dust and decay of the house didn't exist. Things were as they had been when each of them had been alive. They could see the real state if they wished, but none did.
Jerome and Natalie were nearby, dancing to the strains of music from the old Victrola. Molly, with an impatient tapping of her foot, waited for Rhys to join them. Everybody else stared at him as they talked quietly amongst themselves. None of them looked pleased with Rhys at all.
Sighing, Rhys stood from his chair and headed for Molly.
"Do you have any idea of how silly you've been, Rhys Kelly?" She glared at him.
"Not proper, not proper at all." Old Malcolm's face twisted in a grimace of distaste.
"You have no place among the living. It's not right what you've done." Natalie paused in her dance with Jerome to look over at Rhys, shaking her head. "You belong here with us, not out there, Rhys."
"No, it's not right." Jerome's stern voice rose above the others.
Anger rose in Rhys and he growled out. "Don't speak to me of what's right. I helped most of you when it came time to change. Yet none of you came forward to help me."
Every last one of them had suffered a time of adjustment, the space in which they were finally forced to accept their complete isolation from the living. Rhys had comforted several of them when their time had come. They all knew what Rhy had been going through, and yet none of them had offered any help. Vincent had, even though it was help they didn't deem proper. Rhys didn't give a damn.
As they all looked away from him, Rhys scowled at them. "None of you have the right to decide how I do things. Vincent is like us. He might be able to live in the outside world, but it holds nothing for him. The only difference between him and us is that he can be acknowledged out there."
"If he can live among them than he has no place with us or you," Molly muttered in disgust.
Only Archie gave Rhys a knowing look of sympathy, and he remained silent as the voices of the others rose around them, arguing with Rhys.
Rhys' voice and expression softened as he remembered his conversation with Vincent. "That's what I thought at first, Molly. Until I talked with him. Vincent came here to die, and you should understand that better than the rest of us."
She stared silently at him for a moment before she looked away. The others drifted away and only Molly and Archie were left.
"Don't let them talk you out of what you can have, Rhys." Archie said in a low voice. Turning away, he left to join the others.
When Molly looked back at him, Rhys could see the conflict struggling in her eyes.
"Part of me understands, Rhys. But you're a ghost, and he's alive. It doesn't feel right."
"It does to me, Molly. The rest I'm not sure about. I can't give him everything he needs." He sat back down in the chair. It worried him because there was no way he could have a normal relationship with Vincent. Being with him for a few hours and then having to disappear for days didn't constitute normal. He couldn't forget the sight of Vincent beneath him, nor could he forget the feelings inexplicably connecting the two of them.
It wasn't at all hard to tell there was a lot more to this than anybody had originally thought. Sighing quietly, Molly moved towards him, laying her hand on his shoulder. Looking up at her, his eyes begged her to understand.
"He needs me, Molly. More than I can even understand, but I can feel it. And I need him. Before I lose what's left of myself to this place."
"You've struggled longer than any of us did against changing, Rhys. When the living don’t want us, it's the only way we can get through what's left to us. I don't know what to tell you. If things don't work, everything will be worse for you; but if it does work, you'll be the luckiest son of a bitch." Her hand gently squeezed his shoulder in sympathy.
Rhys' hand covered Molly's and he gave her a grateful smile. She still seemed very worry about him and the hesitation in her was clear as she spoke again.
"Before you joined us, there was another. Her name was Caroline. She fell in love with someone living in the house. She had gone through the same thing as you are, and she chose to spend her time with Richard. All of us were happy for her, until Richard decided to leave. Caroline is still here, but she never comes out anymore. We lost her, and I'm so afraid of the same thing happening to you."
Nobody had told Rhys about Caroline, and the objections of the others made a bit more sense to him.
"If he ever leaves then so be it, Molly. You know me well enough to know I would be happy if he found something in the outside world to make him happy. I'm willing to take the chance."
"If he ever leaves, I'll follow him and haunt him for the rest of his existence." Molly muttered, disgruntled.
Though Rhys sensed Vincent was asleep, he slipped through the house, heading for Vincent's bedroom. Seeing the vampire stretched out on the bed drew Rhys closer to him. He remained unseen, not wanting to waste precious energy while Vincent slept.
Settling in a hover above Vincent's body, Rhys stared down at him. He couldn't deny the urge in himself to be with the vampire. It ran through him, leaving an ache seeping deeper inside. Rhys wanted to reach out and touch Vincent, but he knew he wouldn't be able to feel him fully. Still his hand lowered, letting his fingers drift slowly at the edge of the field of energy of Vincent's body. He felt the low tingle thrumming through his hand, but it wasn't the same as truly touching him.
Vincent stirred, slowly at first. Then a mask of pain descended over his face, contorting his features. He turned his head fitfully as the nightmare continued. No sound came for several moments, and when he finally spoke, his eyes remained closed and his words were a whisper, still holding him in his dream.
"Please, Rhys. Don't leave me..." The sound was pleading, full of pain and fear.
"I'm here, Vincent." Softly whispering to him, Rhys descended until his essence mingled slightly with the vampire's. The electricity raced through both of them, and he shivered in reaction. It was far stronger as he partially submerged himself to Vincent.
Vincent gasped and opened his eyes. When he felt Rhys, he smiled and let out a sigh of relief. "I had a dream..." He closed his eyes again. "I was terrified...that I lost you."
"That would be impossible, there's no power in existence that can keep me from you." Rhys rose slightly, disconnecting from Vincent before his body took on a more solid form. Then he rested against Vincent, stretching along the length of Vincent's body.
Vincent turned and slid his arm over Rhys, holding him close. "Rhys, I..." He shook his head, burying his face in Rhys' hair. He had realized it before, and only now did it finally sink it; he was becoming attached. Very attached.
"You what, Vincent?" Turning his head, Rhys nuzzled against the side of Vincent's throat as his hands came to rest on Vincent's shoulders.
Vincent sighed. "I'm afraid, Rhys," he whispered.
"We both are." Raising his head to look down at him, Rhys said quietly, "I don't know if I can give you what you need. I can't figure out what will happen to both of us if we continue. The only thing I do know is that I want to be here, no matter the cost."
"You give me what I need, Rhys." Vincent opened his eyes to look into Rhys'. "And I'm so scared...because I'm falling. Every time I have, I've lost the one I loved. I don't want to lose you."
Rhys shook his head, smiling. "You can't lose me. Unless you leave this house."
"I came here to die," Vincent said. "But instead, I've found something worth going on for." He slipped his fingers through Rhys' hair and pulled him down. "I don't know if you feel the same, but I've fallen deeper than I thought possible." He brushed his lips to Rhys' softly, his breath catching with the contact.
The touch of his lips warmed through Rhys, drawing him in with its promise of passion just beneath the surface. He wanted to answer Vincent first and whispered against the press of his lips, "I feel the same. I think I did the moment you made me feel again."
Vincent's breath stilled with that whisper. "You do?" He pulled back enough to see Rhys' face. Reaching up, he traced Rhys' lips with his fingertip. "I need you," he whispered. "I need to feel you. To bury myself inside you."
As Vincent looked up at him, Rhys nodded slowly. "Otherwise, I would have never answered your need."
The rest gave Rhys momentary pause because he'd never been fucked by another man. In his lifetime, he'd lain with many men and women, but never allowed any man that part of himself. Gazing steadily into Vincent's eyes, Rhys felt a sense of longing, wanting to feel Vincent inside him. It welled up inside him as he saw the deeper need in Vincent's dark eyes. Slowly rolling off of Vincent, Rhys moved to unfasten his pants before he wiggled out of them. After undoing the buttons of his shirt, he slid it off and cast it aside.
Vincent drew him back down, smiling as he rolled over to stretch his body over Rhys. He kissed a slow path over Rhys' chest, stopping long enough to roll his tongue around one of his nipples. When he released it, he continued downward, sliding his hand down to grip Rhys' hip and hold him.
"I promise," he murmured over Rhys' belly, "I will go slowly."
Stretching against the bed, Rhys murmured as he felt the weight of Vincent's body, "Not a position I am used to.”
The tease of Vincent's tongue silenced him except for a soft moan as his nipple hardened instantly. A sharp pulse ran through him straight to his cock and he reached down, wrapping his hand around both of them. The slow stroke of his hand held their cocks together as he whispered, "I need you, Vincent. My body aches for yours."
Vincent shuddered and groaned. "Keep that up, and we'll both be a sticky mess." He chuckled softly as he pulled away, moving down to bring his mouth level with Rhys' cock. With the tip of his tongue, he licked a line from the tip, down to the base. Then he continued, moving slowly over Rhys' balls and further down to probe at Rhys' hole with his tongue. "Want to taste you," he breathed as he pushed Rhys' legs up. He circled Rhys' opening before pushing his tongue inside.
Forced to relinquish his hold by Vincent's position, Rhys let go and laid his hand on the covers. His hips rose off the bed as his legs parted further for Vincent. An instant heat shot through him, feeling the barest touch of that tongue. His body shuddered as he moaned. "Deeper. I need you deeper."
Vincent licked him one last time, then wet his finger. As he slid back up Rhys' body, he pushed his finger inside him. "Shh," he purred. "Patience, love." He pulled his finger out, then added another, pushing both deep inside Rhys. He let out a soft sigh as he angled his fingers forward to stroke inside him. "Just relax…"
Patience wasn't exactly his strong suit when it came to Vincent. Rhys wanted to feel it all, and the teasing pressure of each finger only added more sharply to his arousal. His body tried to draw Vincent in deeper as he writhed against the bed, wanting to increase the friction of the rubbing. Soft moans escaped him as his hands reached for Vincent, his grip massaging against the vampire's shoulders as his body twisted slightly.
"You drive me insane, Vincent."
Vincent smiled and withdrew his fingers slowly. He sat up and reached for a small bottle on the bedside table. He popped the cap and squirted a decent amount on his fingers, then snapped the bottle closed and tossed it onto the bed. His gaze roamed over Rhys--so beautifully stretched out before him, like a banquet before a starving man. After slicking himself, Vincent leaned forward and rubbed the head of his cock over Rhys' entrance. He licked Rhys' lips before slipping his tongue into Rhys' mouth, at the same moment, pushing with his hips to slide his cock deep inside Rhys.
Rhys tried to still the impatience of his body but with little success. He wanted Vincent and it was the only thing his mind would focus on. Keeping his body relaxed, the sensation still bordered on the edge of painful as Vincent's cock stretched him. Rhys welcomed that and with a hard grind of his hips, he felt Vincent slide fully inside him.
"Fuck, you feel good. I can feel all of you." His hands slid up into Vincent's hair, pulling Vincent into a bruising kiss. An insatiable need swept through Rhys as he shuddered beneath the vampire.
A growl escaped as Vincent devoured what Rhys offered him. He pulled Rhys' hands down and laced their fingers together, pressing Rhys into the bed as he continued their kiss. He pulled out slowly, his own body beginning to shake, mirroring Rhys'. With every stroke, Vincent felt himself fall deeper. He broke the kiss and brushed his lips across Rhys' cheek to his ear.
"I love you so much..."
The slow torturous invasion of his body kept Rhys poised close to falling over the precipice. He knew, from the loving attention given to his body, that Vincent was making love to him, not just fucking him. The intense pleasure increased tenfold for Rhys, taking him to a place he'd never been before. Hearing Vincent say that caused Rhys to cry out softly, tears slipping unheeded from beneath his closed eyes. Here was a feeling that completely encompassed him, both in sensation and emotion. He'd never had that before. It tugged at his soul.
"Nobody has ever given me what you are giving me, Vincent. Heaven help me, I love you as well." Rhys didn't believe either of them clung to false emotions, their need of each other was too deep. Burying his face in against Vincent's throat, Rhys clung tightly to him, incapable of separating himself from the vampire.
"Shh," Vincent murmured. "Know that I have you, love." He continued his slow, gentle strokes, despite the rising need within him for more. He wanted this to last, to let Rhys feel what he longed so much to give. "Come with me," he whispered in Rhys' ear. "Let it go..."
He increased the strokes slowly, so as not to overwhelm Rhys. The burning need for release edged just at the surface, along with the desperate urge to bite. That was something he couldn't bring himself to do. The lack of blood was not the issue now; hurting Rhys was.
Vincent was his only saving grace, and Rhys knew that in his heart. For the first time in his existence the physical blended in seamlessly with the emotional. The intensity washed over him and Vincent's soft voice urged him on. A slow shudder began to run through him before the rush of sensations rocked his body. As he came, his nails clawed into Vincent's hands. "Vincent. Oh God, Vincent!"
"Yes," Vincent whispered breathlessly. His strokes sped up and he fought the unrelenting urge within him. He couldn't bite. He wouldn't bite. Then the contractions of Rhys' body around him sent him over the edge in a hard rush. He had only a split second to focus power within Rhys' to dull the pain as he descended on Rhys' throat, sinking his fangs in deep as his body thrust hard into him, filling Rhys with his release.
Rhys hadn't expected Vincent to feed from him. To him, it wouldn't have mattered if it were painful or not. His hands quickly slipped from under Vincent's to grip his head. Wrapping his fingers tightly in the soft hair, Rhys arched his throat instinctively. Even doubting Vincent could take nourishment from him, it gave him an inexplicable feeling to be a part of the vampire's nature.
Vincent had not expected to receive anything in the realm of nourishment, but something did hit him as he remained locked to Rhys' throat. Something deeper, stronger than blood. He could feel their energies entwine around each other, bound by silver-white strands of ether. He pulled away slowly and stared down at Rhys, completely breathless.
"Oh, my God..." He rested his forehead to Rhys', desperately trying to control his body, which still trembled with the lingering effects of whatever he had experienced.
The drain on him gave Rhys a euphoric sense hazing at the fringes of his consciousness. His body trembled with Vincent's as he rested limply on the bed. He wouldn't have been able to move if he wanted to. Tilting his head slightly back, he brushed a soft kiss to Vincent's lips as they hovered near his. The distinct strengthening of a connection left him acutely aware of Vincent on a level he had never shared with anyone.
"I don't...know what just happened," Vincent said as he rolled off of him, immediately pulling Rhys close to him. He held him tightly and kissed his hair. "And I am sorry if I hurt you. It was just so hard to control. I tried to make it less painful."
Rhys followed, curling his body close to Vincent's. "Do you think I would even care if it hurt? It didn't, and I want you to keep doing that. When you fed from me, it brought me wonderfully closer to you."
Vincent nodded. "Aye," he whispered. He tightened his hold on Rhys. "You're a prayer answered, Rhys."
"As long as you know you are the same to me, I'll accept that. I want to be able to stay with you for all time."
"How? I can't sleep alone anymore, Rhys. I fall asleep wanting to hold you, yet I know I can't. What can we do?"
Closing his eyes, Rhys sighed quietly. "I don't know, Vincent. I really don't. I can only hold this form for so long. It'll become easier as time goes on and won't take me as long to regenerate my energy. Other than that, I just don't know."
"Can you...can you take energy from others? To replenish your own?"
"I've never tried to, so I don't know that either. Usually I let the power within the house absorb me and after a time I come out of it."
Vincent rolled over so that they were laying side by side, facing each other. "What about using me, instead of the house? I have the ability to feed someone power and energy if need be."
When Vincent moved, Rhys snuggled in more tightly against him, relaxing fully. Eyeing Vincent uncertainly, he asked, "Use you? How?"
"I've fed someone energy before, and I see no reason why it wouldn't work with you. It's merely a directing of power, from my soul to yours."
"I guess we could try, but won't it drain you of energy?"
"Not as much as you would think. It does, but only in small amounts."
"Then we can try." As long as it didn't harm Vincent, Rhys had no problem with the idea. Smiling, he pressed another soft kiss to Vincent's lips.
Vincent smiled, then opened his mouth over Rhys'. He slowly closed his eyes, whispering to Rhys' mind. "Take what I give you. Let it fill you, make you whole."
He focused his power, centering it in his heart before focusing it towards Rhys, filling him with its pale glow. As it flowed from him to Rhys, it left only a tiny residual trace of fatigue on him, so small that it could be replaced with a good rest.
A soft sound emerged from Rhys' throat before it stilled with the warmth slowly seeping into him. It left a stronger sense of Vincent thrumming through his entire body. His arm draped to Vincent's waist, keeping him close against him as his flagging energy was renewed. In his thoughts, he prayed to wake up next to Vincent.
"Sleep, love. When you wake, it will be in my arms." Vincent then turned the kiss into something more, his tongue stroking over Rhys' softly. He needed sleep, but he knew he would not be sleeping alone.
Rhys opened to Vincent easily, needing his loving attention and returning it. The quiet whisper to his mind helped to relax him from his own fervent thought. Silently, he whispered back, "I love you. I need you, Vincent."
"I love you, too. And I will always need you."
Not even the increasing restlessness and anger of the others could get through to Rhy. Vincent kept him shielded from it.
Part Five
Sensing the sunset, Vincent stirred, slowly at first. As he opened his eyes, he was aware of someone beside him, curled into the crook of his arm. A head of red curls lay on his shoulder, and he smiled. He didn't want to wake Rhys, but he needed to feed.A moment later, Rhys' eyes flew open. Seeing Vincent, he whispered almost in awe, "Vincent. Oh, my god, Vincent."
Vincent smiled and stroked Rhys' cheek with his fingertips. "Good evening, love. Never in my life did I think this would be possible."
"Neither did I. No one has been beside me in almost two centuries."
"And I would love nothing more than to remain here," Vincent said, bringing Rhys' fingers to his lips and pressing a kiss to them. "However, I must feed."
"Does that mean I have to get up?" Rhys' features twisted in a mock grimace as he faded from sight. The purr of his voice came close to Vincent's ear. "Is this better?"
"Mm," Vincent murmured. "Perhaps feeding from Severin won't be as mechanical as it has been in the past." He rolled onto his back and reached up to pull the cord by the bed. Downstairs, a medium-toned bell rang. A few minutes later, the door opened and Severin walked in.
Rhys' hand played idly over Vincent's arm before straying towards his bare chest. The sensation was similar to a barely-felt touch, followed by the impression of a spine-tingling coolness. Then the touch continued the playful caress over Vincent, down to his cock.
Despite his best attempts to stop it, Vincent's cock grew hard as diamonds. He tried to shift under the sheet, hoping to hide it from Severin. The smile on the man's face, however, made it very clear he had seen it.
"Well, I haven't seen you quite that hard in some time." Severin stopped at the end of the bed, then crawled across it to stretch his body over Vincent's. "Hungry?"
Rhys almost burst out laughing with the rise in the sheet. Quickly he had to scramble out of the way to avoid contact with Severin. He nearly rolled off the edge of the bed in his haste to get out of the way.
Stifling the chuckle that desperately wanted out, Vincent forced himself to remain at least relatively calm, which was about as easy as willing away the erection Rhys had created. With a groan, he cupped Severin's head and pulled him down, licking the hollow of his throat. His other hand snaked between them to grip Severin's cock, stroking it slowly. The mortal groaned and thrust against him, whimpering in desperation.
Rhys' scowl went unseen. It seemed to be a habit whenever Severin got close to Vincent. Silently he watched the two and as the vampire fed, Rhys reached out to brush his fingers to the exposed side of Vincent's face.
Vincent almost stopped, his fangs still embedded deep Severin's throat, when he felt the tumultuous tenor of Rhys' energy. His strokes on Severin's cock quickened until the mortal groaned as he came. Vincent licked the wounds before releasing him. Severin gave him a quick kiss before sliding back off of the bed.
"I'll be downstairs soon," Vincent said. Severin nodded and turned, walking back out of the room and closing the door behind him.
Once the door closed, Rhys spoke softly, "You didn't have to stop so soon, Vincent."
He shimmered back into existence and stretched out on his side not too far away. He'd noticed the other time Vincent fed from Severin that the vampire had given a sexual favor but gotten nothing but blood in return. Giving him a questioning look, he asked, "How long has this been going on? Does he never touch you? Or make love to you?"
Vincent rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. "I stopped because it gives me nothing but nourishment. I ceased receiving pleasure long ago." He reached out and brushed his fingers over Rhys' chest, then over his neck. "Severin has been with me for some time; ten, maybe eleven years. I've forgotten. In all that time, he has only kissed me, and even the kisses lack emotion. They are like a prelude to the bite. As for touching me? No. He enjoys receiving oral sex, or my hand, but he cannot stomach touching another man. And he will not allow another man to enter him."
The touch brought Rhys closer to Vincent. Now he understood why his lover had been so desperate for someone to connect to. "To be honest, I'm glad he only feeds you. I'm not sure I care for the thought of sharing you. On the other hand, I really don't understand how you could be so close to another for so many years, and not be allowed your own pleasure."
Sliding his arm over Rhys to pull him closer, Vincent sighed as he laid his head down. "It is a give-and-take relationship. He provides me with what I need to survive; the sexual favors I give him are more like payments for his service. Over the past several years, the only touch I've felt has been my own hand." He closed his eyes and kissed Rhys' hair softly, murmuring, "Until now."
"It seems I have much to make up for." Rhys really wanted to give Severin a few choice words about closet homosexuals. He understood the term from watching the television of the previous owner of the house, but he wouldn't say anything though, no matter how much he wanted to.
Vincent gave him a wry smile and rolled them both over until Rhys was on top of him. Cupping Rhys' face in his hands, he whispered close to his lips, "Just love me. That is all I ask."
Rhys' body molded as tightly as he could to the one beneath him. Resting his hands against Vincent's chest, his fingers traced abstract patterns against the vampire's skin. "I can't help but love you. You don't even have to ask." His lips closed over Vincent's, and his tongue slid into Vincent's mouth. The slow, drugging kiss affected his senses and strengthened the hunger of his body and heart for his lover.
With a slight shift of his body, Vincent wrapped his legs around Rhys' waist, grinding up against him slowly as they kissed. "Please," he whispered against Rhys' lips. "Inside me?"
Rhys required little in the way of encouragement. His cock was already hard, and need thrummed through him with harsh persistence. Reaching for the bottle still on the nightstand, he pulled slightly away from Vincent and squirted some of the liquid into his hand. After letting the bottle fall beside them, he slicked himself before a hard push buried his entire length deeply within Vincent.
"Rhys!" Vincent's breath left him in a rush and his fingers flexed, digging into Rhys' hips as he pulled him down hard. "Yes. God, yes..." His hips rocked, needing more. He arched his back, his neck, offering everything within him to Rhys.
The sound of Vincent's cries urged Rhys on and the hard steady thrust of his hips repeatedly drove into Vincent's body. Lowering his head, he scattered a series of kisses to Vincent's throat, in between each, the hard bite of his teeth marked the vampire's skin. A deeper note echoed within his words: "Mine. All mine."
Beneath him, Vincent trembled; every touch, every bite, sinking deeper into his soul. Threading his fingers in Rhys' hair, he held Rhys tight, pressing him to his throat in an act of pure devotion. "Everything I am, I give to you, for all time."
The entanglement of his own feelings rode Rhys just as heavily as the physical sensations. His actions driven by the need to make Vincent lose himself completely, the rhythm of his thrusts sped up. The trail of kisses slipped over to the line of Vincent's jaw and then fastened over his lips.
With his soul enveloped by the man above him, Vincent could no longer hold back. He returned Rhys' kiss and cried out in his mouth as his body shuddered. Every thrust from Rhys was met with equal intensity, sending shockwaves through Vincent's body as he came. His fingers gripped tightly in Rhys' hair, holding him captive in their kiss.
When Vincent let go, Rhys released the harsh control he'd held over his own body. Feeling the deep shudder overtake his lover, several fast thrusts sent him over the edge as well. The sound of his cry was muffled as he tumbled into a world of sheer, pulsing pleasure. Vincent held him, cradling Rhys in his arms until they both slowed their movements.
"I love you so much," Vincent whispered.
The turbulent aftereffects slowly faded, and the movement of Rhys' hand trailed in a loving touch over Vincent's side. "You have my love for all eternity, Vincent."
Vincent nuzzled Rhys' hair and sighed. "I have to get down to the library. The woman who manages my financial affairs and effectively acts as my liaison to the mortal world is coming."
Rhys drew his head back and asked out of curiosity, "Is she a vampire like you or is she like Severin?"
A dark laugh was Vincent's immediate answer. "She likes to think she's the Princess of Wales, or at least, the Welsh Underground. You'll like her." The sarcasm in his words was palpable.
Rhys' brow arched. "That delighted to see her, are you?" Rolling off of him, Rhys stretched out on the bed.
With a heavy, reluctant sigh, Vincent slid out of bed. He walked over to the suitcase by the dresser and rummaged through it until he found his black silk robe. As he tied it around his waist, he turned back to look at Rhys. "And by all means, feel free to torment her in any fashion you wish. She'll be staying overnight, and will leave tomorrow evening. I would delight in seeing her prim ass squirm."
Rhys was tempted to playfully slap the delightful ass as he watched Vincent move away from the bed, but before the thought could connect to action, Vincent was already too far away. "I'll probably do just that since I have your full permission."
"Permission?" Vincent arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm begging." He grinned and walked back over to the bed. He leaned over and kissed Rhys softly and thoroughly.
With the kiss, Rhys' hand reached around but instead of slapping, his fingers kneading into the firm flesh of Vincent's ass. Drawing his head back and ending their kiss, he said, "You better go because in about ten seconds, I won't let you leave the room."
Vincent moaned softly and smiled. "Please don't let me face Her Royal Pain-In-The-Ass alone." He kissed Rhys one last time and headed out of the bedroom, giving him a lingering look before closing the door.
"Well, you look..." Severin cocked his head to the side for a moment before continuing. "Like you're well-fucked."
Vincent chuckled and shook his head. "Well-fucked?" He shrugged. "Just needed to relieve some tension."
Severin eyed him dubiously. "Must have been one hell of a jerk-off session. I haven't seen you smile like that in quite a while."
As he pulled opened the doors leading into his new study, Vincent ignored Severin's remark. The man was already skittish enough when it came to ghosts and such. The last thing he needed was to find out Vincent did indeed get 'well-fucked' by one of the otherworldly inhabitants of the house. That one would never go over well.
The castle library was much larger than Vincent's previous one. At three stories high, it was indeed the largest private library he had ever seen. The walls of each floor were lined with shelves full of books, from floor to ceiling. A spiral staircase disappeared up to the second floor, where yet more books awaited. As he reached the landing on the third floor, Vincent looked over the railing and down to the bottom floor.
A few minutes later, Severin appeared downstairs, looking rather perplexed. "Hey, Vince! You in here?"
"Up here."
Severin looked up and his mouth fell open. Vincent chuckled.
"You needed something?"
"Um, yeah. Have you seen the car keys? I could have sworn I left them on the table in the foyer."
Vincent grinned and looked around briefly. Somehow, he could detect Rhys' hand in this. "Check again."
"But I just did."
"Check. Again." Vincent winked at Severin as he started down the first staircase. "Trust me."
Severin sighed and left the room. As he reached the bottom floor, Vincent shook his head with a laugh. A minute later, Severin stepped into the doorway, keys in hand. "How did you know?"
Vincent shrugged. "Do you really want to know?"
Severin shook his head quickly. "No. Not when you ask like that."
Vincent walked over to him and placed a hand on either shoulder. "If something were to ever happen to me," he said, "then everything is yours: the house, my possessions, my money. Everything."
"Now you're scaring me, Vince."
Vincent leaned forward and kissed his friend's forehead. "I don't mean to, but it needed to be said. I might be a vampire, but after nearly seven hundred years, life holds less appeal for me than before."
"You're talking nonsense," Severin said quietly. "And you look pale. You didn't take enough before, did you?" Without waiting for an answer, Severin took Vincent's hand, leading him over to one of the shrouded couches. He pushed Vincent down onto it and knelt between his legs. "Drink."
A protest hung on his lips, but when Severin tipped his head to bare his throat, Vincent found he had no words. Instead of resisting, he slipped a hand around to cup the back of Severin's neck, pulling him close. He brushed a soft kiss to help ease the pain of the bite, before he sank his fangs into the warm flesh. Rhys' pulse echoed...Wait. What was he thinking? This was Severin, the mortal man who had been by his side for several years. Why was he thinking it was Rhys? Then the realization hit him. He flicked his tongue over the wounds before abruptly pulling away.
"Vince?" Severin leaned forward and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Vincent's right ear. "Vincent, what's wrong?"
Vincent shook his head. "Nothing. Just stressed out about having to meet with Victoria, I suppose."
Severin grumbled and Vincent could hardly blame him. Victoria Markis was essentially the 'Princess of Wales,' or so she professed to be. It was a self-proclaimed title and not one that Vincent would have deemed her worthy of, but, as she was the only one who had direct knowledge of his financial dealings, he had no choice but to deal with her. He loathed humanity, having lived much too long for his liking among them. Now, he could enjoy the quiet peace of a time-forgotten castle. And Rhys.
Vincent smiled as he thought of the fiery-haired spirit who, just a few hours before, had given him something he long thought he would never feel again: pleasure.
"Vince?"
Shaking his head to clear his mind of its wanderings, he looked down at Severin. "Yes?"
"I was asking you when Victoria would be here," Severin said, lifting an eyebrow.
"What time is it?"
Severin pushed his shirt sleeve up and glanced down at his watch. "Almost eleven."
With a pained groan, Vincent let his head fall back against the couch. "Anytime now." As if to add pain to misery, the low, dull sound of an ancient doorbell resounded through the entry hall and floated into the library. "Go let 'Her Highness' in," he said as he stood.
Sighing, Severin stood and walked out, casting Vincent a desperate glance before disappearing around the corner. A few moments later, Vincent heard the sickening cadence of Victoria Markis' voice as she unsurprisingly whisked by Severin and made a beeline for the library. Vincent knew her moves well; he could tell where she was and what direction she was headed at any given moment, simply by the nauseating smell of her perfume and the high-pitched tone of her laughter. And as always, when she appeared in the doorway, he bowed his head in feigned respect. Victoria never bought it, but she smiled nonetheless.
"Vincent, darling!"
The tall, lanky diva sauntered into the library like a feral Siamese cat, one hand extended and the other clutching a long cigarette between two red-gloved fingers. She walked like royalty, complete with a fake British accent. When she smiled, she never made the effort to hide the two long, filed-ridiculously-sharp canines. As she came to stand before Vincent, hand still extended expectantly, Vincent tried his best not to let the noxious fumes from her cigarette and perfume, overwhelm him.
"Good evening…Your Highness," he said, adding a deliberate pause before her 'title,' if only to bring a wry, tight smile to those red lipstick-caked lips.
Victoria's feline-sharp gaze slid over him, marking every muscle, every bit of exposed skin.
An involuntary shiver slid through him and she smiled again. She had been after him for some time now, edging her way into his life…and into the nearest bed. When he told her he was interested only in men, what was her response? She brought a fresh young body, full of masculinity, to him, with the pronouncement that she would watch. Vincent had crushed her hopes then, sending the young man on his way with a kiss and a pocket full of crisp bills. Victoria had not given up.
"Vincent, love," she purred as she perched on the edge of one of the couches. She glanced down, flicked the ashes from her cigarette onto the floor and looked back up at Vincent. "How are you?"
Momentarily surprised by the uncharacteristic questioning of his well being, Vincent sat on the edge of the library's only desk. Victoria watched him patiently, taking a slow drag off of her cigarette and blowing the smoke out between pursed lips.
"I am well," he said finally. It was short. It was sweet. And it was the truth. Or as much as she needed to know.
"Very good. It is always a pleasure for me to know that you are well." She reclined slowly, eyeing him with a deep blue gaze. Her chocolate brown hair was straight and ended halfway down her back; the length, she kept in a tight braid.
Sighing, Vincent gave into curiosity. "Why are you asking?"
"I want you to come back with me," she said matter-of-factly. She held out the cigarette expectantly.
"Come back with you?" Vincent took the cigarette and put it out in the small silver ashtray beside him. "I can't leave."
"Nonsense. I expect you to leave with me this evening. Don't worry, Severin is capable. My car waits outside. Come."
With that, she stood and left the library. Just before walking out the door, she threw a glare back at Vincent. Sighing, he said a silent prayer, hoping Rhys would understand. The she-devil controlled his finances in a world he had no part of—he had to go. Without a single word to Severin, Vincent left the house with Victoria.
When Vincent didn't return home the next evening, Rhys figured something had delayed him. He wasn't unduly worried, but he did mope around the house. Finally curling in the bed, Rhys burrowed under the covers. His form faded as he slipped into a quiet sleep.
The next morning he paid little attention to Severin, though he did wish he could ask when Vincent would return. By the third night, Rhys became deeply concerned. He had no clue what was going on or why Vincent hadn't returned. As the nights became a week and then turned into two weeks, Rhys had to acknowledge it was doubtful Vincent would come back. He knew he couldn't ask Severin. Encountering a ghost would spook the man to no end. Inwardly he began to shut down and took to haunting the front door. On certain nights, moonlight streamed through the glass surrounding the door frame. All awareness faded as his form became invisible.
Rhys had subsumed himself to the house, and nothing reached him in his dormant state. The voices whispering along the corridors went unheeded, but he no longer existed to them. He never moved from the spot where he stood.
The first time Severin had seen Rhys standing near the door, it had scared the shit out of him. Severin froze but then noticed something very odd about the spirit. He could detect no movement and his racing heart calmed. What he saw seemed like a hologram and he relaxed slightly with the lack of motion. Afterwards, each time he saw the figure guarding the door, he ignored it.
Part Six
Rhys never once moved from the spot he inhabited in the two months that had gone by. Whatever had animated him had drained away slowly and only the shell of a form remained--a motionless reminder he’d once been there. His eyes stared out vacantly to a space by the door, but nothing registered to him.Only the erratic flashes of lighting made his form visible. As they faded so did he. Rhys remained locked in a space and time where Vincent was no longer there. Another flash of lightning lit the entry way, the rumbling sound of thunder following quickly after. Not one strand of hair moved even with the drafts in the old manse. His hand remained outstretched as if reaching for something just out of everybody’s sight. Upon closer inspection, a heavy sadness seemed to line the frozen features.
With the wind howling outside and the rain coming down in icy sheets, Severin did good to see or hear a damn thing. He bunched his coat tighter, heading for the crumbling stables half a mile from the main keep. As he neared the dilapidated building, he could see the outline of a form--gaunt and frail, and more dead than…well, alive. When he reached the stables, he pulled the cloak out from under his coat and wrapped it around Vincent’s body. The vampire was barely coherent. With his arm wrapped around Vincent’s shoulder, Severin led the way back up to the house. As a streak of lightning flashed nearby, it lit up the windows by the front door, illuminating the odd, ghostly figure standing there.
"Vince, we’re home," Severin said as he pushed open the door. As soon as they stepped into the foyer, Vincent’s legs gave out. Severin tightened his hold quickly in an effort to keep them both standing. "God, what did they do to you?"
"Vincent, can you stand?" Severin leaned back up against the wall, his gaze shifting back and forth between the vampire in his arms, and the ghostly form by the door.
"I…" Vincent sighed and winced. He had been denied the chance to feed for so long that it hurt to talk, to breathe, to think. He was vaguely aware of someone--Severin?--holding him. But something seemed wrong, empty somehow. "Where am I?" he managed to say, whisper, really.
"Christ. How long did they starve you?"
"Too long," Vincent groaned. Yes, it was Severin. Home? But home was…happier, full of love. Full of…Rhys. "Rhys…where is Rhys?"
"Who?" Severin tilted Vincent’s head up. "Vincent, you’re talking nonsense. We’re home. Who is Rhys?"
"Love," Vincent whispered.
"Love?" Severin eyed Vincent dubiously. "Now I know you’re talking nonsense." He ripped his shirt open and bared his neck. "Drink, Vince. Now."
Vincent latched on immediately, too hungry, too starved to put forth the effort to dull the pain. Severin’s hiss of pain sounded distant and Vincent closed his eyes as he drank. When he had taken enough, he licked the wound closed. He rested his hand on Severin’s shoulder.
"You left." A feminine voice whispered from the stairs. The tone wasn’t friendly at all; it held an accusing note.
"Holy shit!" Severin slid away, his eyes wide with terror.
Vincent turned quickly and felt a sickening emptiness begin in the pit of his stomach. "No. I left, only for a day. They…" He shook his head quickly. "Enemies, I have many of them. They kept me locked in a cell, denying me the chance to even feed. They wanted my money, my family’s fortune in return for my life."
As Molly descended the stairs, she allowed them to see her. Ignoring the exclamation of fear, she drifted slowly towards Vincent. Once she became visible, it was clear she was from an era long ago. White silk ribbons tied beneath her breasts, and the emerald gauze of her gown clung to her form. Her black hair upswept into an elegant creation, decorated with small white rosebuds. The youthful lines of her face were set in a scowl directed at Vincent. Molly was a tiny thing, a very angry, tiny thing.
"He’s here, but he’s not here. None of us knew what happened. Just that you were gone. He thought you would come back, but when you didn’t, he lost hope."
"Where is-" Vincent stopped abruptly, the borrowed blood in his veins going cold. Another flash of lightning lit the entry way and the form by the door, frozen in a moment of time. "Oh, God…"
He ran over to Rhys’ form and dropped to his knees with an agonized cry. The pain and sadness etched across Rhys’ face tore him apart inside, chilling everything within him but the fire that burned for Rhys. He reached up, wanting to touch the hand extended in a silent plea. "Please," he whispered as the tears began to wet his cheeks. "I’m so sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t get to you."
As she moved towards them, she said, "He wanted to talk to that one." With a jerk of her head, she nodded towards Severin. "But he was afraid it would drive him away, and he said you needed him. We all triedto reach him, but I‘m not sure he can answer."
Sadly, Molly watched both of them. When she laid her hand on Rhys’ shoulder, there was no response or acknowledgment of the touch. "He told me so many times you loved him."
Gazing down at Vincent, a flicker of understanding crossed her face, as well as an intent concentration. After a moment her form took on shape and substance and so did Rhys.
"I can’t live without him," Vincent whispered through his tears. He looked up at Molly, pleading and desperate. "I came here to die, but…I found something to live for." He reached up and touched Rhys’ face softly. "Someone to love, more than life itself."
He stepped closer and cupped Rhys’ face, searching his eyes for something--anything--that might react to him. Then he leaned forward and kissed those frozen lips, the lips he had loved, the lips he longed to kiss once more. How he longed to see the sweet pout on Rhys’ face when they talked and teased; their parting when Rhys sighed softly. Vincent closed his eyes and in a last shred of hope, began pouring what energy he could into Rhys’ form, hoping beyond hope that it would do…something.
Molly remained silent. There was nothing she could say or do to help. Vincent was the only one who might stand a chance of reaching Rhys. Slowly stepping back, she turned a baleful eye on Severin.
At first it made no sense and didn’t anchor to the remnant of his consciousness. He didn’t react until the energy seeped deeper into him. His lover’s name came as a soft whisper to his lips, "Vincent?"
For Rhys, the effort to come out of the dark vacuum he inhabited was almost more than he could manage. He saw and heard nothing; he could only feel. His next words were a pained cry. "Vincent, where are you?"
Before Vincent could hit the floor, his body weak, Severin caught him, keeping him on his feet. He reached up to cup Rhys’ face, to touch his lips softly. "Love…Rhys…"
"Vince?" Severin’s voice rose above the crack of distant thunder. "Vincent! Shit. Oh, hell no. You can’t do this, Vincent. Whoever he is, he’s back. Now come back to us." He stroked Vincent’s face and stared into his eyes, desperation touching his words. He looked up at the man, Rhys. "He’s weak. They kept him prisoner, wouldn’t let him feed. He needs to feed again."
When awareness caught up with Rhys, he heard Vincent and then Severin. As his vision cleared, he saw Severin eyeing him in desperation, and Vincent collapsed in his arms. Reacting quickly, he reached for Vincent. As he struggled to hold him up, one hand drew Vincent’s head towards his throat. He knew drinking from him would give the vampire a jolt of energy. An urgent note threaded through his words.
"Vincent, I need you to feed. Please, my love."
The movement purely mechanical, Vincent’s fangs dropped and pierced the flesh before him. The act of feeding was automatic, but as the energy seeped into Vincent, the distinct feel of it, the strength of it, touched within his mind. He stopped when he had taken enough and licked the wounds closed. That was when it hit him--the taste of the skin, the energy. Rhys. Still feeling slightly drugged, Vincent pulled slowly away from the neck to look into the eyes of his lover.
"Rhys. Oh, God, Rhys, I’m so sorry."
Rhys kept him tightly clasped against him. Staring back into his eyes, his expression softened, openly showing his love for Vincent. "I don’t care. You’re back. You came back to me."
Vincent reached up to touch Rhys’ face, his lips. "I never left you, love. But I was so scared I would lose you. I don’t care if this house falls down around me, I’m never leaving again."
"I didn’t know what was going. When you didn’t return…" Rhys trailed off as he hungrily drank in the beautiful sight of Vincent’s face. "Forgive me for doubting you."
"Shh," Vincent murmured softly. He slipped his hand to the back of Rhys’ neck and pulled him close. "You are what keeps me going, what keeps me sane, Rhys. You need not apologize." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead to Rhys’. "Please let me love you. I need to touch you, to feel your touch on me."
"Don’t you think I need the same, my love?" Rhys pressed a tender kiss to the lips near his own before he drew back his head. Noticing Molly and Severin hovering in the background, Rhys smiled at both of them.
Molly gave him an impish grin before she disappeared abruptly.
Vincent glanced back at Severin and smiled. "I’ll explain later," he told the pale-faced man, then turned and picked Rhys up. Cradling Rhys in his arms, he climbed the stairs and a few moments later, kicked the bedroom door shut behind them. He placed Rhys on the bed and took the kiss he had been wanting.
Part Seven
Rhys arms snaked around his neck, holding tightly to him even as he was laid back on the bed. Fully opening to him, he returned the kiss with a fervent one of his own. Rhys desperately needed the grounding contact to reconnect to his lover."Never again." Vincent shifted and covered Rhys’ body with his, exploring the depths of Rhys’ mouth with his tongue, the contours of his body with his hands. How he had missed this; missed the kisses, the touches, the moments after when they would simply lay side by side, talking and sharing.
He broke the kiss slowly, pulling away from Rhys’ lips to kiss the arch of his throat. He slid his hand up to unbutton Rhys’ shirt, then peeled the fabric away to rain kisses down on the silky smooth flesh. Every time his lips touched Rhys’ skin, warmth radiated from the point of contact, washing through them both, rebuilding the connection they had nearly lost. The warmth spread through Rhy like fire, reawakening his senses. The almost gaunt look to Vincent’s features drew the touch of his hand, his fingers tenderly caressed to the side of his face. Huskily, he whispered to Vincent, "I need you too much. Without you, I can’t feel anything at all."
Vincent looked up, nuzzling his face against Rhys’ hand. "You are the world to me," he whispered. "The Earth…" He placed a soft kiss on Rhys’ chest, and then slid slowly down. "The sea…" He brushed his lips over the taut belly, the warmth of his breath seeping into Rhys’ skin. Then he reached up and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of Rhys’ pants, and pulled them down slowly. As he kissed the tip of Rhys’ cock, he whispered, "the Heavens."
Rhys couldn’t begin to describe what each word and touch did to him inside. The expressions of Vincent’s love sent a slow shiver through him. Without doubt, he did believe how deeply Vincent loved him. A mixture of need and the powerful love Rhys felt mingled on his face. His emotions were as transparent as he could be. The arch of his body begged beneath the lingering touch of Vincent’s lips as his hands slid into Vincent’s hair, combing through the strands.
"Eternity isn’t going to be long enough. I want you naked and in me, Vincent."
Giving Rhys’ cock a single stroke of his tongue, Vincent slid off the end of the bed, pulling Rhys’ pants with him. He made quick work of removing his own clothing, then climbed between Rhys’ legs, parting them slowly as he placed soft kisses to Rhys’ inner thighs. When he reached Rhys’ cock, he took it fully into his mouth, swallowing it to the root before coming back up to lick the clear drops from the tip. He then continued upward, stretching his body over Rhys’ to capture his mouth in a soul-consuming kiss.
The open invitation of his legs welcomed Vincent back to him. A shudder ran through Rhys before his legs wrapped tightly around the vampire. A deep groan rose from him and was silenced in the devouring kiss. As his arms encircled Vincent, his hands drifted over the muscular contours of his lover’s back. Needing desperately to touch him, the slide of Rhys’ nails raked downwards before his hands came to rest on Vincent’s ass. He kneaded his fingers into the firm flesh as his body rocked slowly.
Ending the kiss, Vincent reached over to the bedside table and popped open the bottle. He rose up just enough to slick himself. After tossing the bottle to the side, a slow movement pushed his cock deep inside Rhys’ body. Fully inside, he stilled, his body trembling from the sensations rippling through him. He gripped Rhys’ arms and pulled them above Rhys’ head, pinning them to the bed tightly.
"Mine," he whispered, staring into Rhys’ eyes as he pulled out slowly until just the tip remained inside. Then he thrust back in, burying his cock in the silken sheath of Rhys’ body. "All mine." The words came out in a deep growl before Vincent laid claim to Rhys’ mouth and body.
Rhys curled his hands tightly to Vincent’s. The upward rise of his body ground tightly into the feel of the cock embedded in him. The fullness flooded his body with urgency and throbbing pulses radiated from his own cock with the friction of their bodies entwined. Vincent’s words echoed in Rhys’ heart and soul, touching every place within him. A deep shudder of his body answered Vincent and his legs tightened their position around him. As he pulled away from Rhys’ lips, Vincent stared down at him, a sharp hunger flaring to life in his eyes, turning the irises a deep red. "Say you’re mine," he growled as he thrust into Rhys. "I want to hear it on your lips." His strokes increased, growing harder, more intense. "I want the whole fucking world to hear it."
A sharp gasp escaped Rhys with the sudden forcefulness of Vincent impaling him. Staring back at the vampire, Rhys’ expression seemed dazed. Unable to control his response to Vincent, the shudders over took his body. He cried out sharply with the intensity of sensation drenching over him, leaving him drained in their wake. "I belonged to you! Always!" The echo of his cry rang around the room followed by a series of throaty vocalizations that had no words.
With a hard, feral growl, Vincent descended on Rhys’ throat, sinking his fangs deep as the hard rhythm of his hips drove his cock harder inside Rhys. "Yes. All. Mine.” Instead of feeding from Rhys, Vincent reversed the flow of energy. A brilliant red-orange glow surrounded them, then centered sharply at the point where Vincent’s fangs were embedded in Rhys’ neck, marking Rhys for all eternity.
His throat arced tightly to Vincent’s mouth and Rhys felt the rush of the fire consuming him. Another orgasm sent his mind reeling as it crashed over him in relentless waves. He knew Vincent had branded him somehow and he needed everything Vincent gave him. "Yes, yours." His acceptance threaded through the barely audible words. The essence of his soul carried the mark; Rhys could feel it with a near painful sensitivity.
Never releasing Rhys, Vincent cried out against his throat as he shuddered hard. His orgasm hit him full force, spiraling him into a sweet, dark oblivion. When the sensations finally died down, he realized he had stopped feeding and he licked the wounds softly before burying his face in the fall of hair covering Rhys’ shoulder. Tremors still rocked through him and he tightened his hold on Rhys’ hands.
"Never again," he murmured softly. "The world be damned; I belong here with you." Rhys savored the sound and feel of his lover’s release as he began to relax beneath him. His hands remained tightly holding to Vincent’s. As much as he wanted Vincent never to leave, Rhys wasn‘t sure that was a good idea. "Is that practical, Vincent? There are reasons you have to go into the outside world."
"There isn’t a thing in this world that could tear me from your side, Rhys." Vincent raised his head to look down at Rhys. "I have Severin. If I need anything outside this house, he can get it. My place is here."
"I’m selfish enough to want you to do that. I can’t go out there to find you. I wanted to talk to Severin, but I knew he’d be scared shitless." The tips of Rhys’ fingers slowly traced the outline of Vincent’s features as he gazed steadily back at his lover.
Vincent chuckled. "I think the whole spectacle downstairs might have made a change in him. Still, it might be prudent to sit down and explain to things to him. Both of us."
"I figured that one out from the poor man’s expression. He has no clue who lives in this house." Chuckling, Rhys slowly relaxed into a calmer state, grateful to have Vincent back with him.
Vincent lowered his head and licked Rhys' lips slowly, just to touch, just to taste. "I was so lost without you, love," he whispered.
The tip of Rhys’ tongue softly teased Vincent’s. As he tipped his head, he said, "I know what you must have gone through. At least I couldn’t feel anything. I didn’t want to feel anything."
Rolling off to the side, Vincent pulled Rhys to him, cradling him in his arms. "I would not have let you feel anything, love." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Forbidding a vampire the chance to feed has less effect the older the vampire is. But even for one as old as myself, two months is too long. Too much longer and there would have been nothing left for Severin to pay the ransom on."
Flinching, that was something Rhys didn’t want to hear. He couldn’t dwell on the thought of losing Vincent in any way. Nestling tightly in against Vincent, he was near to wanting to crawl into Vincent’s skin. "If I knew how, I would make them pay for that."
"I'm stepping up the security here," Vincent said after several minutes. "Some of those involved...had been people I trusted at one point. Now, I trust no mortal but Severin. And I think...Victoria Markis might have been a part of it."
"The fake Princess?" Rhys hadn’t like the woman, but he’d never suspected she would be involved in actually harming Vincent.
Vincent nodded. "She's spent countless years trying to get me into bed, but apparently she settled for a good portion of my family fortune."
Rhys’ tone was dry. "Now that I realized. I just can’t figure out why she thought money would make up for not having you." Not that Rhys was bias or anything, but being next to Vincent was worth far more than any amount of money.
"She's a greedy bitch," Vincent grumbled. "I come from an old family and that carries with it a lot of old ties...and bad blood."
Vincent’s words made Rhys realize something. "I know almost nothing about you, but I don’t really care. None of it is important. Only having you here is what matters." Vincent made a sort of contented sound and nuzzled Rhys' hair.
"I thought you would feel the same." Chuckling softly, Rhys added, "We belong together, and nothing can change that or separate us."
Vincent shifted to look at him. "You doubt that I do?" A teasing smile settled over his lips and he rolled them over until Rhys was on top, straddling him. "Yes, we most certainly belong together. And I dare anyone to deny us that."
Vincent has grown tired of life and its never ending stream of deaths around him. Seeking peace in an old rundown manse, he unexpectedly comes across the miracle that might just save his unlife. 19,503 words. |