8 comments/ 44011 views/ 15 favorites Always Mine By: Margin Walker The whiskey goes down so smooth now that I can barely feel it; my throat is ripped raw, and it feels good. I hold the bottle up and look at the remaining liquid in the dim streetlights. There isn't much left. I can barely remember drinking that much. I lean back in the car seat and stretch. I've been sitting in my car for over an hour now, just waiting. But waiting for what? What's going to happen? Nothing, unless I want it to. And I think I want something to happen. I crook my arm out the window and stare over at her house. I automatically look up at the bedroom window and my neck gets sore from being twisted in that position too much tonight, but the whiskey is working, and I just don't give a damn. I can see a faint light, flickering candlelight through the thin, white curtains. Fucking candlelight! I pound my fist against the door once, and then again, but it doesn't help, just pisses me off even more. The song on my stereo ends again and again I hit the back button making it start over. I sing along with it, "I'm free now," letting the lyrics, the music, soak into me, "I'm really just a fuck-up and it's such a waste," and I breathe it in, "There's something going on that makes my guts ache," drink it down like the whiskey, "I got guilt, I got fear, I got regret," and it burns going down, "I'm just a panic stricken waste, I'm such a jerk," and I love it, "the last thing I want to do is ever cause you pain," and it lays on my chest like it could crush me under its weight, and I want it to. I want to feel it in my bones, feel it under my skin, writhing through my head, and I close my eyes to let it overwhelm me, pushing me to cry, pushing at me hard, but fuck it, I won't do it, I won't fucking cry. I pour more whiskey down my throat and stare back at the window. The music plays on, repeating, leaching through my pores, and through the window I imagine that I can see them, I can see her, in the flickering candlelight I can see her dark chest, hidden in shadows, her breasts heaving, the light playing across her nipples, her breath comes intense and sharp, her lips parted, her eyes closed, and she smiles as she drops her head down, her dark hair, falling about her face, and her eyes open to look at him underneath her, and his hands rise up to touch her breasts, and I can't breathe, I'm breathing too fast, I'm hyperventilating, and I can't focus, I can't see the house, and I hit the fucking steering wheel, and I hit it again, and I throw the bottle out of the fucking window, and it hits the street with a loud shatter of glass that pierces through my enraged mind, and I slam the car door behind me as I step out of the car. The world is fuzzy and I'm not connected to it. The house looms over me as I approach it. My boots are loud and hard on the sidewalk, seeming to boom in the quiet night. I lower my head to glower through my overgrown and unkempt hair and I feel good, my teeth pressed together, my fists in tight balls at my sides, my chest rising and falling in deep breaths, cold air blasting through my nostrils, and there's only me in this fucking world, nothing else matters, what I do doesn't matter, because it's all just nothing. I skid to a halt at the front door, trying to think of what to do, glancing up and leaning back to try to see the bedroom window, and look back down at the door, barring my way, standing in front of me, rocking back and forth, and I stare at it and I can't remember what I should do here. I see her, remember her, long ago, standing here at the door, rain pouring down, bags dangling in her hands as I held her purse in my arm and searched through it for the keys. She was laughing, telling me to hurry, we're getting soaked, but she we was laughing, and making me laugh, and I couldn't find anything in her purse, never could. She stepped closer, her face was right under mine, looking up at me, that smile, her lips turned up, her cheeks flushed, her dark hair wet and dripping, and she was beautiful. I kissed her. She kissed me. And we were laughing as we kissed, her purse smashed between us. As always it rose so quickly, the heat, the fire, burst to life, and her bags fell to the ground and I pressed her to the door and she was touching my chest, pulling my shirt open, and I was feeling her breasts through her dress, wanting to rip the dress from her, to feel her skin, wet and slick, wanting to lay her down in the rain and the mud. She pulled away, her eyes watching me, the smile gone, serious, her jaw set, because she wanted me, and she pulled her keys from her purse without looking. We pushed the door open and we fell on the living room floor, pulling clothes from our bodies, panting, hurrying because we couldn't get there fast enough, every second I wasn't inside of her was a second lost, and then she was grasping my cock, leading me into her, and as I slid into her we both moaned so loud and with such relief that we both laughed again. I smile to myself, swaying on my feet, and I can feel her again. I stare at the door and she's not there. The door just stands in my way and it holds me back, and I take a breath and want to knock it down. I knock on the door loudly, pounding my knuckles into it, wanting to feel the door give under my fist, and I hit it harder. "I'm coming," I hear her yell inside the house. I stop pounding on the door and I stand still, swaying back and forth slightly, numb, ready to see her, I won't feel a thing, she's nothing to me now. "Jude?" I hear her exclaim through the door. I look at the peephole, knowing that she's looking back at me. I hear the deadbolt turn, hear the chain being slid back, and the door opens. She's stand in front of me again. And she's beautiful. I hold my breath and just stare at her. The sight of her, her silky black hair drifting to her shoulders, her hands clutching a robe about her body, her eyes a tender brown, twists through me like a knife, wrenching and tearing, and I want to fall on my knees and beg with her, plead with her, oh God Elena take me back, just take me back, and I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't mean it, I didn't, I could never hurt you, never, but I rise up, pulling in a breath, and I push it back down. "Jude?" she says, glaring out at me, her eyes dark and questioning. "What are you doing here? It's late." "I wanted to see you," I say, trying to keep my voice flat, emotionless, and I force my lips back into a smile. "Jude, we can't talk right now," she says, stepping forward, holding the door tight against her so I can't see into her house. "It's late." She peers me at me, her eyes searching my face. "And you're drunk, aren't you?" she says disgusted. I smile back at her and chuckle. "Just a bit, baby," I say. I take a step towards her and I look down her body, look down where the robe stops at her knees, look down and see stockings on her lower legs, high heels on her feet, and I look back up at her, at her face made up, her hair like it had been fixed, but has since been messed up, and I glare back at her. "Are those the stockings and heels you used to wear for me?" I ask her. She sets her jaw, just like she always used to, not when she wants me, no, when she's mad at me, angry, sets her jaw, sets her mind, and she's a fucking brick wall. "It's none of your business, Jude. Now, just go home," she yells. She steps back and starts to close the door, but I reach out and stop it. She looks up at me, glaring at me, her eyes flickering with that fire, and a bit of fear, just a tinge, and she steps back as I push the door open and step inside. I stare at her as I close the door behind me, feeling wound up, everything, every emotion and thought wound inside of me, and I hold onto it, not wanting to let it go, trying to stay calm, and looking into her eyes, seeing that fear, I'm glad, just to see something, something besides that old disgust. "Jude," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "You have to leave. You can't just barge in here." "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" I ask her. She sighs and her eyes melt into anger again. She sets her hip, that look that has always been so goddamn sexy, and she glares at me. "It's none of your business," she says. "Now get out or I'll call the police." "You won't do that," I say, and turn away from her. I look around her house, looking for changes, looking for something different, but it's all the same. "You wouldn't call the police on me, Elena." "Yes, I would and I will if you don't get out now," she says. I ignore her and step further down the hallway, glancing around me, looking for signs of him, of Eric, knowing he's there, knowing he's upstairs, but wanting to confirm it, see that he was there, throw it in her face. "What are you doing?" she asks, walking behind me. "Just looking around," I say and I stop in the dining room. I look at the plates sitting on the table, candles extinguished, two glasses of wine, two place settings with barely eaten food, the scent of it lingering in the air. I remember sitting there, the candles lit, waiting, drinking a glass of bourbon because I didn't drink wine, then the door to the kitchen opened and she came out, carrying the last plate of food in her hand. She laid the last plate on the table and stood before me, wearing that short dress, so short that I could see the top of her stockings, see the garters, the dress cut so low I could see the black bra underneath, and I didn't care about the food. But she made me eat, she sat across from me, her stocking foot rubbing my crotch under the table, smiling at me, telling me what we would do after we were done eating, and then I couldn't take it anymore, she always drove me so wild, and I lifted her from her chair, and she protested, but kissed me back, her arms around my shoulders, and I laid her on the table, pushing the food to the side, and I pulled the dress over her hips, and she wasn't wearing underwear, and I ate again, I licked her pussy until she was dripping wet and begging for me, her hands wrapped in my hair, pulling me towards her, and I dropped my pants, staring at her lying on the table, as she stared up at me, and I thrust into her hard and the table shook, and when she came she screamed, but I hadn't had enough and I pulled her from the table and bent her over it and I fucked her again, my stomach curled around her round ass and as I came inside of her she said she loved me. "So you made him dinner, too?" I ask her, leaning against the doorway, trying not let the depression overwhelm me, but knowing I can't, I can't stop it. "Jude...," she starts. "What else did you do for him?" I ask, turning around, putting the dining room behind me. "You don't own me, Jude," she says, suddenly. "Did you fuck him?" I ask, keeping my voice calm, oh so fucking calm. She glares back at me and I see the anger rising in her eyes and know what she'll say before she says it. "Yes, I did. Just you like you fucked that... that other girl... what was her name? Or do you even remember?" "I remember," I say. I walk past her, towards the stairs, and start walking up. "Jude?" she says, walking after me. "Where are you going, Jude?" I don't say anything. I'm done talking to her. She always just throws it back in my face. I could never make her understand. I didn't love that other woman. I loved Elena. But she made me mad, she wouldn't commit to me. She said she would date only me, be monogamous with me, but she didn't want to move in, didn't want to marry, why couldn't I understand, that would all just destroy it, we were perfect the way we were, but I knew it just meant she didn't want me, didn't love me. So, I got bitter. I got angry. I didn't call her, didn't visit her, and neither did she, and finally I gave into it. I fucked that other woman. I had fucked that woman I had just picked up at a bar. And I don't remember her name. She had just been there and Elena wasn't, and Elena had called and the woman had answered, and I had lain there letting the woman tell her yeah, he's here, I just fucked him, and I had laughed because I was drunk and I wanted Elena to hurt, to hurt like I did, but it died away so quickly, there was no relief, no happiness, just a crushing sadness that I had broken something that I couldn't fix. "Jude? Don't go up there!" she says as she runs after me. I don't pay her any attention. I start up the stairs, peering to the top, hoping to see Eric, wondering if he's hiding from me. I don't know why, but I feel I need to see him, to confront him, to look him in the eye, and let him know I know he's fucking my girlfriend. Eric and I were supposed to be friends, but this isn't how friends act, this is how a fucking asshole for a friend acts, and I want him to learn that. "Jude," she says. "Stop." She clutches at me, but I pull away as I reach the top. Her bedroom door is closed, but in the dark hallway I can see the flickering candlelight under her bedroom door. I can hear music, jazz music, playing through the door. It's a CD I bought her. I remember it. I remember how much she loves jazz, how she loves to fuck to jazz, how she loves to dance to it, strip to it. I remember giving her that CD, and she immediately put it on. As the music started she danced over to me, gave me a lap dance, pulled my zipper down, and hummed to the music as she sucked on my cock, until she straddled me, lifting her dress to her hips. I remember it vividly. I clench my teeth. My head hurts; the pounding in my head just keeps getting louder. I squeeze my eyes shut as I approach the door, and open them again. "Jude!" she yells as I kick the door open, wood splintering away from the doorjamb. "What the fuck!" Eric yells. As I step into the room, he jumps up from the bed. He's wearing just a pair of briefs, just his underwear. He stares at me, his skinny, pale chest rising and falling with hectic breaths, his eyes like large saucers staring at me. The room is dimly lit by the candles and a lamp with a red silk handkerchief thrown over it. The jazz music plays softly from the small stereo, the stereo that I bought her. "Jude!" he says, a weak smile, playing on his lip. He reaches down to pick up a shirt and clutches it to his chest. "What are you doing, man?" "What the fuck are you doing?" I say, moving towards him, looking down a tunnel that ends with him. "Jude, don't!" she yells from behind me. "Hey, man, come on, it's nothing, you know... I just... Hey man," he stutters, his eyes flashing from me to her grabbing at my shirt. I pull her with me, moving towards him. The rage is so intense, so high, I feel like I could cry, I feel like my whole body could be ripped apart, and I wouldn't mind, I revel in it, revel in the rending of flesh and bone, the tearing, the cracking, and the rushing in my head is louder, and I want to cover my ears to block it out, but I can't think, all I see is him, his lips move, but I don't hear him, I just see him standing there, see him scared, knowing that he was fucking her, seeing it in my mind, seeing him touching her, kissing her, whispering to her, sliding inside of her as she hums to him and sighs, biting her lip, and my head feels like it has swelled to twice its size, my heart pounds in my chest, and I'm breathing hard, sucking air into my lungs just to feed the rage. She pulls at my arm, yelling my name, and I push her away, throw her away as she did me, and she's gone. It's just him, and I'm on him. I shove him against the wall and I'm looking into his eyes, he's pushing on me, yelling at me, but it's nothing, it doesn't mean anything to me, I just want to see him hurt, and I grab his head, my arms straining, my hands clutching his face, pushing on his skull, and I look him in the eyes, my face tight, sneering, and I smack his head against the wall. He pushes on me and I stumble back, but reach out and grab him, and he's grabbing at me, his fingers slipping off of me, but I have a hand around his neck, and I throw him to the ground hard, with such force I fall on top of him, but I don't let go, I'll never let go. I hear her scream, far in the distance, and it means nothing, all I see is him. My fist smashes into his face before I know I'm going to throw it and it feels good, so I do it again, and I kneel over him, grinding my knee into his stomach, and he squirms and fights, his hands bouncing off of me, his legs kicking, but I hit him again, trying to hit through him and I feel it give, feel his face give in, broken, and he screams, and I hit him again and he stops screaming, and I tighten my grip on his throat, and I hit him, and I push my knee into him, and there are no thoughts, only actions, repetitive actions, again and again, tightening, smashing, dark red blood pooling on his face, covering my fist, and his hands slide off of me, and his body falls limp. Then she screams, a scream so loud, I look up to see her standing over me, yelling, her face red and swollen with tears and rage, the large candlestick held high over her head, and I raise my arm. The candlestick crashes into my arm and falls to the floor. I stand up and she rushes at me, grabbing me, pushing at me, her fists glancing off of my chest and stomach. I grab her shoulders, and she twists in my hold, and I look at her face, twisted and red, filled with anger and disgust, and I like it, it's what I wanted to see, that pure hatred for me that I know she'll never want me, that there's no hope, and all is lost. I grab her tighter as she pulls away, twists in my hands and I lose her as she slips out of the robe, leaving it in my hands. I stumble after her, dropping the robe to the floor, as she backs away from me. I smile, feeling good now, feeling alive, my blood boiling, my heart racing, and I leer at her as she stops in front of me, dressed in black panties, a black garter and stockings, high heels, her breasts bare, her dark, silky hair falling roughly about her face and bare shoulders, and I step towards her, staring at her full breasts, rising and falling, her stomach gasping, the panties wrapped around her flaring hips, her skin so dark in the dim light, but shining with sweat, and I remember her like that, remember her body so enflamed, her body consumed by lust for me, and now she stands before me, and all I see is a whore. "Jude...," she mumbles as I stop in front of her, my eyes moving down her body and back to her face. I reach out and touch her cheek and she flinches back, trying to move away from me, so I step in quickly and wrap my arms around her and pull her to me. "Jude!" she screams. "Let me go!" Each time she hits, scrapes, punches me I become all the more enraged, feeling her body writhing against me, and I shove her against the wall hard and she shrieks, her head twisted back in pain. I dive in to suck at her straining neck and she tastes so sweet, so much like her, and I lick her skin, and her hands grab my hair, pulling my head away. "Jude, don't," she screams. I press my body against her, hold her against the wall, and grab her arms, pulling her hands out of my hair, and she strains against me, kicks and fights, trying to pull her arms free, and I breathe deeply, enjoying seeing her struggling, seeing emotions, raw and painful, I want to know she hurts, I want to make her hurt. I pull away from her and she falls to the ground, twisting on her heels and almost falling. I hold onto her arms and yank her with me as I walk towards the bed. She falls to the ground on her butt, her feet kicking, her heels scraping on the floor, shrieking and wailing. Her arms twist in my hands and I yank her hard and she screams, and her arms slip out of my sweaty hands. I stumble and catch myself on the bed. She rolls to her side and I fall on her as she tries to raise to her knees. "Jude! Stop it!" she yells in my ear. She yells my name and I remember how she used to say it, how she used to say my name like it was a dirty word, how it used to resonate from her lips, instantly making me hard. Always Mine Disclaimer: I do not own the fandom of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. I make no money on this work of fiction. I have no connection to JR Ward, who is the owner and author of all original Black Dagger Brotherhood works. This was written purely for fun because I love playing with the boys and they bring me so much joy. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot of this story and any of its original characters are the property of this author. No copyright infringement is intended. I've played a little with canon, such a removing at least one character, but I plead artistic license plus the fact that some good things can't happen under certain circumstances and that would just spoil the fun. CHAPTER 1 He felt the pain grab his chest, steel bands tightening around his ribcage like quick drying cement. Crushing, weighting him down till his lungs were pressed flat. He fought but the air wasn't getting in and he felt his life bleeding away like light at the end of the day. He reached out, barely able to lift his arms through the weakness seeping through him. And it took three tries before he could get his voice strong enough to push through the darkness settling over him. "Please," it was a low croak. "Don't leave me. Please! I can't do this anymore. I need you." The figure in front of him stopped walking. He stood frozen in place and with a huge sigh, dropped his head forward. The still figure's chest hitched once as if he were catching a stray sob and his hands clenched at his sides. The anguish pulsing off him in waves, he drew himself to his full height and started turning slowly. But before he could complete his turn, though, before he could come face to face with the male pleading behind him, darkness washed over him and he disappeared as if he'd never been. "NO!" Qhuinn finally dragged in a painful gasp of air and shrieked it away. "I'm nothing without you. Please come back!" His back arched off the bed, his fingers twisting in the sheets, as he came awake instantly. The raw pain tore through him like... well, like... fangs. As he dragged great, gulping breaths deep into his burning lungs he felt his fangs punch into his mouth; long, slick and sharp, promising a relief he knew was false. If he thought ripping open any veins he could reach with those razor sharp incisors would do him any good, would bleed away this pain along with the hell that was his life, he'd have done it in a heartbeat. But it didn't work that way. And despite the agony he felt every time he looked at his best friend, he was too much of a coward to give up that life. After all, this was where Blaylock was and if Qhuinn checked out he'd never see his friend again. Never touch that smooth, hard body in an accidental brush as he passed by. Never draw in the warm, spicy scent of Blay's skin, his blood, whenever Qhuinn thought he could get away with it. And that just wasn't an option. Qhuinn threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grunting softly at the pain sweeping through his body. The run-ins they'd had last night with the lessers had instilled their own level of hurt but the agony that had rolled over him in his nightmare had all but finished him off. He rubbed his chest over the lingering ache, still fighting to draw a full breath, and pushed off the bed. Feeling like an old man, he dragged himself into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He used the toilet as the water heated up then dragged himself into the stall with a noticeable lack of energy. He braced his palms against the tiles, his head dropped forward, and let the hot water beat down on his head and shoulders. As soon as he closed his eyes, the dream rushed back at him. This time he took control of it and willed it to the finish he wanted. The figure in front of him turned and started back toward him. And as he stepped out of the shadows and the light hit his face full on, Qhuinn gasped at the beauty of the male smiling at him. Blaylock's bare skin was smooth porcelain, pale and creamy. His blue eyes blazed like a hot, sultry summer sky. The warm red of his hair glittered in the light and fell over his forehead in a lush wave, curling gently at the nape of his neck. It invited the thrust of fingers, winding deep in the silky weight, holding tight, pulling close. A strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones and the thick column of his neck sliding down to the wide sweep of muscled shoulders and back stopped his beauty from being pretty. This was a pure masculine beauty; rugged, tough, yet still breathtaking. Qhuinn felt his chest lock as he tried to draw breath into lungs that wouldn't move. Blaylock was magnificent. His broad chest and thick arms were hard, the muscles sleek but well defined. Qhuinn's gaze stroked down over Blay's ridged six pack and the narrow hips, over the perfectly formed and beautiful cock hanging heavy between his spread legs and nestled against rounded tight balls, before tracking hotly down the hard columns of his thighs. As tall as Qhuinn, at six feet four, both males towered over the average male of the race. But for Qhuinn, it meant he could look deep into his best friend's eyes easily. And he wanted to do that. He wanted to see the same feelings burning deep in those bright blue eyes that he felt burning in his own mismatched ones. And that was where the daydream abruptly ended, drifting up into the room with the steam rising from the shower. Despite the hot water beating on Qhuinn's back, a harsh shiver ran through him. Because no matter how strong the feelings were that burned inside him, he knew he'd never be able to turn them loose on Blaylock. Because the glymera didn't approve of homosexuality. In truth, surprisingly, the glymera didn't disapprove of homosexuality as long as it was a sideline to a perfectly acceptable heterosexual relationship. You could be as gay as you wanted as long as it was very discreet and outside of a proper marriage bed. After all, appearances were what laced up the glymera world and their world was so tightly laced that batting your eyelashes outside of a bedroom was nearly a hanging offense, even when done toward your perfectly acceptable heterosexual mate. Qhuinn had been raised in a family where the acceptance and values of the glymera meant more than the well-being and happiness of any individual within that family. The glymera, that aristocratic, social core of the vampire race that determined the worth of everybody by how far down their noses they had to look at you. The farther down the stare you were, the less you were worth. And Qhuinn was already a write-off because of the genetic defect of being born with mismatched eyes, a defect that didn't correct itself when he went through his transition, as hoped. He knew he'd been only tolerated as everyone waited for that day, secretly hoping for some big cosmic correction, and when it didn't happen he had also known it would only be a matter of time before someone, his father, most likely, decided there was no longer any point in keeping him around. Whether his father made that decision on his own or under pressure from the glymera wouldn't matter. The end result would be the same. Despite being treated as completely unworthy of even drawing breath, Qhuinn still prayed for acceptance within his family. He believed he needed to find a female of worth, someone he could mate with so then he could become a beloved son, accepted with pride and love as his brother and sister were. And for that he still needed the approval of the glymera. As Qhuinn dressed for the coming night's patrol he couldn't push away his rampaging thoughts. And the pain twisted deep in his chest as he realized that as long as the glymera's approval held that much weight for him, the wall between him and Blay would never come down. Always Mine Bumps, jars, hands all over him; images and sensory input stuttered through him like lightning flashes but it was the voices that finally cracked through the fog weighting him down. As they got louder, the fog lifted more until he realized he was lying on a gurney in the mansion's clinic. And the instant that thought took life in his head, the memory was there. "Blaylock!" Qhuinn tried to sit up but between the numerous injuries holding reign over him and the many hands pressing him against the bed, it didn't happen. He realized the deep, shaky groan he was hearing was coming from him. "Easy, boy," Vishous warned, his hand squeezing Qhuinn's shoulder gently. "You don't wanna be tearing out any stitches, true?" Qhuinn tried to speak but his dry throat wasn't letting anything out after that first scream. He coughed a couple of times, then swallowed hard and tried again. "What happened?" "Well," Vishous continued softly. "I'd say lessers based on the black blood and the stink but the details are yours, kid." "Not completely clear on the details," Qhuinn murmured, reaching up to brush a hand over his face. V caught his hand, then slowly pressed his fingers to the bandage plastered over the gash on Qhuinn's temple. Qhuinn nodded in thanks and carefully swiped his palm down his face. "I was looking. I wasn't sure I'd find the bastards who... hurt Blay but I was gonna give it a damn good shot. I went through eight or nine of them at a couple of different places but I finally found the ones I wanted. Unfortunately, they must have gotten a call out for backup because the next thing I knew four or five more showed up. "I know I popped the ones who hurt Blay but everything after that..." Qhuinn faded out and heaved a big sigh and closed his eyes. "I'm pretty foggy after that point," he continued. "Next thing I remember was running into a dumpster and knowing I had to get outta sight. I crawled in behind, hurting like hell, and..." He lifted his hands in confusion. "Nothing. I must have passed out. So, what's the damage? V ran practiced fingers over Qhuinn's bandaged side, then checked his vision again. "Well, you've got a concussion, not exactly mild but it won't kill you, and a pretty deep stab wound in your right side. Plus a deep gash on your left temple." "Yeah, I do remember blood running into my eyes when I was behind the dumpster," Qhuinn said. He looked up as Rhage approached the side of the gurney and leaned over with a grin. "Wrath told Tohr and I to smack some sense into you when we found you. You're lucky the lessers got to you first. Then again, another half hour or so and none of it would've mattered. You almost made sunrise, dude." Qhuinn's eyes shifted and he caught sight of John standing by the lockers. A twist of shame cut through him as he acknowledged his desertion of his friend. Qhuinn had a sacred responsibility to John; he was the ahstrux nohtrum. He was charged with guarding John's life with his own, if needed. And it didn't matter that he'd given only a bare thought to the idea that John should be safe in his own home, surrounded by the Brotherhood as well as the king of the vampire race. It was his responsibility. John's eyes reflected Qhuinn's thoughts and he pushed himself away from the lockers and approached the bed. Qhuinn heaved a deep sigh, exhaling hard, and held up a hand to his friend. "I'm sorry, John, I fucked up." Qhuinn knew to fuck up in this way meant death. It was the law. John shook his head as he squeezed Qhuinn's hand hard then let go and raised his hands. It's cool, relax. John's fingers flashed, signing out his words. I understand and I made Wrath understand. He's pissed and you don't want to do this away from the mansion but this time, inside here, we're ok. You're lucky he hates the glymera so much. He caught Qhuinn's hand again and squeezed his reassurance. Qhuinn took a shuddering breath and nodded, unable to voice his gratitude. Despite the fact that he accepted the possibility of dying for John, and the knowledge that his death would be required if he was negligent in his duty resulting in John's death, Qhuinn didn't want to go yet. There was a lot he wanted to do with his life before he made a final trip to the Fade, no matter what kind of shit covered him from time to time. But right now, especially, the most important reason was lying in a coma on a bed in the adjoining room. Blaylock. Qhuinn had to know Blay was alright, safe. It was the only thing that mattered right now. He raised his eyes to John, then slid a look at Vishous. He cleared his throat before he spoke but his voice was still nearly silent, cracking with anguish. "Blaylock?" "Still in a coma." Vishous hurried on when Qhuinn sobbed brokenly. "His vitals are good, though, Qhuinn, strong and steady. So he just needs time to heal and I think he'll come out of this fine." "Guarantee me?" Qhuinn shot back fast, the edge hard in his tone. "You know I can't do that," V fired back just as fast. "But it all looks good." "Except?" Qhuinn pushed hearing the 'but' in V's tone. Vishous didn't answer, just stepped away from Qhuinn's gurney and crossed his arms over his chest. Qhuinn clamped down on the jolt of fear that stabbed deep into his stomach at the vampire's reaction and pushed himself up on one elbow. "Except, V?" he snapped out harshly, demanding a response. "Except he shouldn't still be in a coma," Vishous spoke quietly, frustration cutting through his tone. "His vitals are good, the wounds are healing, there doesn't seem to be a reason for the coma. Havers can't figure it out, either, and I've been researching for hours and just can't --" He broke off with a sharp shake of his head and dragged his hands through his hair. "Vishous?" Qhuinn's voice, though soft, was shaky. "You relax; rest." V flashed the young vampire a quick look. "I'll... keep digging. In the meantime, that concussion means you'll need to be woken up every hour or so for today, at least." "Can I do it upstairs in my room?" Vishous hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Get John to help you upstairs, though. I don't want you taking a header anywhere between here and there. And he can be your alarm clock for the rest of the day, as well. And you're off rotation till tomorrow night." Qhuinn nodded. John stepped forward and Vishous clapped a hand to his shoulder before striding away. John dragged his friend's arm across his shoulders and they made their way slowly out of the clinic and down the long tunnel. "Thanks, John." Qhuinn's voice was a low rumble as he shifted stiffly on his bed. He sighed as he felt the other vampire pull his covers up over his shoulders. "John, what the hell am I gonna do if Blaylock dies? I don't... I can't... shit, John, what the hell?" He gave in to the press of a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. And saw his anguish mirrored back at him from those bright blue eyes, like a punch to the gut. And the horror spread like a cancer, not just from inside, staining his soul, but from outside as well, now. It was a living thing, this pain, tearing at his nerves, at his vital organs, at his very cells. And he suddenly realized that if he lost Blaylock, this agony would never be gone. And no amount of approval from the glymera could ever fix that. Before he could wrap his hands around this thought, before he could make sense of this new discovery, his body betrayed him and he felt himself falling down a black hole, following the pain of his injuries. And the last thing he was conscious of was John's hand squeezing his shoulder; a reassurance and a promise. CHAPTER 3 Qhuinn swam through a fog for the rest of the day, despite John waking him every hour or two. And then he was there, finally; conscious, awake, focused on the ceiling overhead. Night had fallen. The steel shutters that covered the mansion's many windows during sunlight hours were up and Qhuinn could see moonlight silvering a stripe across the carpet. He was alone and he briefly wondered if the household was at First Meal or if the Brothers were already out patrolling. He pushed the covers off him and carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. Grunting softly as he slid to the floor, he didn't actually feel as stiff as he had when he'd crawled into the bed. Hopefully, a hot shower would loosen him up the rest of the way so he might actually make it downstairs without having to resort to transporting himself to the kitchen, not a good idea before his head was on straight. The faint clink of glasses and plates he heard as he stepped out into the hallway told him everyone was still eating and he headed down the huge staircase, gripping the railing tightly. The shower had helped a lot but once he started down the stairs, his muscles started reconsidering. He offered the Scribe Virgin a quick thanks as he made it all the way to the bottom without giving in to the dizziness pulsing through his head and staggered only a little as he crossed the foyer to the kitchen. He waved a quick hand to acknowledge the greetings he heard and he sank gratefully into the chair John pulled out for him but his eyes stayed locked on Vishous. "Well?" he got straight to the point. The Brother's resident medic sucked in a quick breath and shook his head gently. "I'm sorry, Qhuinn, he's still out. And I haven't found any reason to explain it. His vitals are still good but he's just -- not awake." Qhuinn pushed back. "I've got to go see him," he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. Several loud protests rang through the room, quickly fading to echoes when Wrath slapped his palm on the table. "You're gonna sit here and eat something first," the King's voice rang out. "You won't do him any good if you fall over so food up first, then visit the injured." "Wrath, I --"Qhuinn's protest didn't get far. "Don't make me hand feed you, boy," Wrath warned, his voice dangerously low. "And I'm still not over that boneheaded stunt you pulled last night or the fact you ran out on John. Don't hold yourself in my headlights for too long or I might start regretting my generosity on the whole matter." Qhuinn knew he'd been incredibly lucky that Wrath hadn't ordered his death the minute he set foot back in the mansion, injured or not, so he shut up and pulled his chair back up to the table. He already felt like he'd let down Blay, even though he had nothing to do with the male's injuries, and he didn't want to add a further betrayal of John to the mix. He saw Wrath nod once as he started filling his plate and soon the conversations were rolling over him as he picked slowly at the pile of food in front of him. Vishous and Butch were off duty tonight and Qhuinn found himself following the Brotherhood's almost doctor down to the clinic after the patrols had all cleared out. His fists were tight at his sides and he had to fight his instinct to break loose and run the rest of the way. Yet at the same time, the closer they got to Blay's room, the more nervous he felt. It was almost a reluctance to face his friend. Qhuinn couldn't understand the contrary feelings swamping him. The only thing that seemed to account for it was his overwhelming feeling that he'd let Blay down. And that made no sense because as he knew he had nothing to do with his friend's injuries. It wasn't as if they'd been in the field together and carelessness on Qhuinn's part had resulted in Blay being hurt. But as he crossed the room behind Vishous and waited at the foot of his male's bed, his confusion slowly lifted. Qhuinn watched V pull down the sheet and peel back the bandage covering Blaylock's chest. He checked the wound and satisfied at the progress of healing, tossed the bandage in the biohazard bin in the corner. He repeated the steps with the gash on Blay's cheek and the deep stab wound on his thigh. Despite the fact that all the wounds were closed, there was still an angry redness running the length of the slash across Blay's chest and the dark bruise surrounding the puncture on his thigh drew Qhuinn's eyes. And he knew why he felt like he'd let the male down. Blay was alone. He was lost in some in-between world; not dead, not alive. And he didn't know that Qhuinn was out here waiting for him, loving him, ready to fight any and all enemies who would try to take him away from Qhuinn. Because Qhuinn had been a coward. Too afraid to buck the system. To stand against the glymera and tell them, "You never accepted me, you never wanted me, yet you still wouldn't let me go to live my own life. To love who I wanted." And Qhuinn wanted Blaylock. Watching this beautiful male -- his beautiful male -- lying there, unaware, lost, Qhuinn knew he'd let him down by not telling him how much he was loved. By not giving Blay the strength of his love to back him up, to give him a reason to fight harder, to come home safe. Vishous finished his exam and turned with a nod to Qhuinn, waving him forward. Then he crossed to the sink to wash his hands and with a squeeze of Qhuinn's shoulder, he left the two vampires alone. Qhuinn snagged the back of the chair from against the wall and dragged it to the side of bed. The wave of dizziness knocked his feet out from under him and he fell heavily onto it, swallowing hard to hold in the sob that tried to escape. He blinked several times, trying to keep the threatening tears in and reached for the pale hand lying on top of the sheet. He watched his hand hover uncertainly above his friend's and frowned. 'Come on, man, what the hell's the matter with you? This is your friend. Remember? The one you'll love till --' The thoughts slammed to a stop as effectively as a car against a brick wall and just about as painfully. The one you'll love till... when? Qhuinn wrapped his fingers around his friend's, feeling his friend's fingers wrap around his heart. 'The one I'll love till...' Till forever. Till I die. Till beyond. And to hell with anyone else. There was no one else. Nothing else mattered. This -- right here, right now -- was the only acceptance he would ever receive. John. Wrath. The Brotherhood. Blaylock. This was the only love he'd ever receive. And as he held on tight to the warm hand, motionless under his cheek, he finally accepted that it was the only love he ever wanted. He knew it would be hard to adjust to, at first. His conditioning ran deep; his need to belong and his fear of rejection, of being a freak, had shaped his life so absolutely. But it was time to stop kidding himself and face the cold, harsh facts. He was going nowhere in the average, everyday world of the vampire race. It had finally come, the day his name had been stricken from all records and his family had turned him out on the road, and Qhuinn had ceased to exist anywhere but here. In fact, after the traditional honor guard had caught up to him, he'd briefly ceased to exist anywhere. The reparation he'd been expecting after he'd stabbed Lash for his attack on John had turned out to be something completely different. It turned out to be from his own family for the shame his actions had brought to them, according to vampire law. But it had been taken way too far and those dealing out the beating had allowed their hatred of Qhuinn to overwhelm them and one of the participants had literally stomped his heart to death. And when he'd slammed back into his body as he stood in front of the door to the Fade, it had been Blay's lips on his, pushing air into his battered body. It had been his beautiful male giving him life, pulling him back to the only ones who'd ever given a shit about his sorry, miserable existence. It was his turn now. His turn to acknowledge that everything that mattered in his world was here, lying silently, lost, in this bed. "Blay," Qhuinn's voice was hoarse, quivering with fear. "Please, come back. Come back to me." The harsh sob tore from his chest, the depth of his pain echoing through room. "Blaylock, please, don't leave me alone here. I know I'm not worthy of you, you deserve so much better than me. But there's nothing left for me without you." He raised his head, blinking hard to clear his vision enough to see the face in front of him. He carefully, gently, laid a hand against the pale, warm cheek, stiffening at the jolt that hit him. Like a shot of electricity, the charge rippled through his nerve endings, throwing his heart into a triple time beat and locking his breath in his throat. "Blaylock!" Qhuinn was sure he saw his friend's head move, just the slightest shift, but when his position didn't change Qhuinn carded his fingers through the thick red hair. His free hand stroked slowly over the chiseled cheekbone and down the muscled column of Blay's throat. "Blay, please," Qhuinn pleaded quietly, urgently. "Blay, come on, wake up. I-I love you, Blay. I know you never expected to hear me say that. I know I've pushed you away every time you tried to get close, tried to offer your love, to offer... yourself. I'm so sorry, I can't tell you how sorry I am." Qhuinn's control bled away as he dropped his head back down on Blay's chest and tears burned behind his closed eyelids. His body shook as his sobs choked out the words he fought to speak, the pleading he couldn't stop, the begging for forgiveness. He stretched one arm across the injured vampire's waist, squeezing tightly as he turned his face into his friend's stomach. "I nearly lost you, Blay," he continued brokenly. "I can't lose you. I can't let you go. Nothing else matters, Blay; not the damn glymera, not my shallow, miserable family, not those cover-up, fairy tale dreams of me finding a female of worth and starting a family. None of it means anything. And the shit I told you when I ran from your place, after my brother and his goons beat me to death in the road -- by the Scribe Virgin, Blaylock, I can't tell you how sorry I am. It was a lie, it was all lies. I had to protect you. I had to stop you from trying to follow me. Cos I love you, Blay, and I couldn't bear to think of you ending up in the same shit I was in. I couldn't bear to let you ruin your life like that... for me." Qhuinn's voice trailed off, the anguish crushing him to a wordless, shaking mess. He tightened his hold on his friend, giving in to the hot tears scalding his face and soaking through the sheet to the warm skin of his male's hard abs. He drifted, the emptiness that stretched out in front of him sucking him down, and finally he became aware of a soft sound. A quiet, sibilant sound that slowly became recognizable as a soft shushing noise. The sound of comfort offered to someone in pain. And before he could raise himself up he felt the warm weight of a hand on the back of his head. As the hand stroked gently, he heard a beloved voice shushing him softly. "Don't, Qhuinn," a soft whisper. "Don't hurt anymore." Qhuinn choked out a harsh sob and turned his face against the hard, muscled body stretched out beside him. "I love you, Blay, I love you don't leave me please please... " The words ran together, almost indecipherable in their grief. Qhuinn thought he'd run out of tears. He had to have, he'd shed so many already. But his friend's gentle touch, his soft, loving words, tore at Qhuinn's heart and a fresh wave of scalding tears poured from him. Then he felt Blaylock's hand slid down over his back and a moment later, he felt fingers twist weakly in the back of his sweatshirt. The hand at his back tugged a couple of times before the intent telegraphed itself into Qhuinn's scattered mind. He raised his head and looked at Blay, who still lay with his eyes closed. "Blay?" The beautiful face shifted slightly. The bare brush of a smile lifted his lips and Qhuinn felt the hand tug on him again. Always Mine "C'mere," Blay murmured. "C'm'up here." Qhuinn immediately crawled up onto the hospital bed and wrapped himself around the vampire under him. The hand on his back opened and he felt the fingers spread wide, trying to cover as much space as it could as it went back to stroking him gently. Blaylock reached up to tuck Qhuinn's head under his chin, then went back to stroking his back, urging him to calmness, restfulness. As Qhuinn drifted away, he felt Blay's other arm come up around his body. Safe in his male's arms, held tight against the body he wanted more than any others, Qhuinn shuddered through a huge sigh and disappeared. CHAPTER 4 "Oh, Jesus." John stumbled to a stop behind Vishous at the softly uttered curse and craned his neck to see around the vampire. His eyes widened as he looked at the two males curled around each other, asleep on the hospital bed. He turned to V, one eyebrow raised. Good sign, you think? his hands flashed. V's raised eyebrow was a visual echo. "Good something, true." He tipped his head and stood for a moment, just watching the two unconscious bodies. The love apparent in the postures was like a warmth felt in the air. It pulsed slowly toward him, a wave of sun on a hot summer's day; languid, sensual, sapping strength but charging an internal energy. He straightened abruptly, his lungs refusing to work, as a face flashed across his mind. A tall, powerful male, a vampire yet not, with sparkling hazel eyes and a chipped front tooth that made V want to lick his tongue over it slowly. He clenched his jaw and sucked in a quick breath then crossed the room. He carefully insinuated his fingers between the wrist and the back under it, counting off the pulse tapping against his fingertips. As he smiled at the steady, solid beat he looked up into blue eyes. Eyes blazing with the intensity of love found; love finally acknowledged and freely given. Vishous nodded as he straightened away from the bed. His own eyes flashed as he watched Blaylock bring his hand up and wrap around the back of Qhuinn's skull, holding him against his chest. His other arm wrapped securely across Qhuinn's back, holding his lover close to him and as Qhuinn nestled subconsciously against the warm body under him, Vishous nodded at the single tear that rolled slowly down Blay's cheek. "He's awake," Vishous said simply as he crossed the room to the bar. John and Butch bolted upright on the couch, exchanging careful looks of hope. "He pulling it together finally?" Wrath asked from his spot at the pool table. "Seems so," V answered. "Qhuinn's down with him. They're sharing the bed, if anybody wants to know. Just sleeping, of course," he finished with a snicker. Wrath snorted. "About fucking time, is all I can say." He stepped back, letting Beth move up for her shot. He smiled indulgently at the happy grin lighting up her face. "And now maybe Blay can keep that hothead of his under control for awhile. Since John's not doing such a good job at it." Butch hooted at the hot protest tightening John's face and he rolled into him, taking him down to the floor in a scrimmage. The two vampires rolled around for awhile, taking turns at having the upper hand till finally Wrath and Vishous approached them from opposite sides. Each grabbed a t-shirt by the scruff and in seconds had the wrestling friends on their feet. "Take it to the gym, not my living room," Wrath growled good-naturedly, giving John a teeth rattling shake. V stood behind his roommate, his muscular arm slung tight across Butch's chest. He could feel the rumble of Butch's laugh spark through his skin and he sucked in a quick gasp. Before he could step back, he felt a hot hand brush up the front of his thigh. The gasp locked in his chest as the hand kept moving till he felt it squeeze briefly over the hard-on fast filling out the front of his jeans. Then Butch was moving away and Vishous took a quick step around, facing the bar again, slamming his drink back as he fought to bring his breathing back under control. Qhuinn felt warmth stroking slowly over his back and he snuggled tighter against the body under him. He rose slowly from the depths of sleep and as he drew in a deep breath, the familiar scent spread through him. Blaylock! He pushed up onto his elbow, searching Blay's face. He gasped as the warm blue eyes locked with his and he fought for a breath at the love that spilled out over him. "Blay," he breathed, cupping his friend's face gently. Blaylock leaned into the touch, nuzzling his cheek into the warm palm sliding over his skin. He kept his gaze locked with Qhuinn's hoping the declarations he'd heard while lost deep inside weren't an hallucination. He lifted his hand slowly, reaching to slide his fingers over Qhuinn's lips. "God, Blaylock!" Qhuinn cried out hoarsely at the tender touch. Qhuinn thrust his fingers deep into Blay's hair and bent down, taking Blay's mouth roughly. He briefly thought he should be careful. After all, his friend was recovering from some pretty bad injuries and the tight grip he had around this warm, pliant body could possibly aggravate those injuries. But he barely had the thought before all that mattered were his arms tight around the body that was straining hard against his. All that mattered was the soft, full lips opening under the assault from his mouth, the tongue meeting his in a duel for dominance. All that mattered were the fingers scrabbling at his back, fighting to draw him even closer. Qhuinn broke the kiss to gasp a breath into his starving lungs and then realized he didn't care if he could breathe. All that mattered was he finally had his male in his arms. "Blay, I love you," he whispered brokenly, his lips burning their way down Blay's throat. "Don't leave me, please. You're all that matters to me, you're everything that matters." He dragged his tongue over the soft, sweet spot just under Blay's ear and suckled the skin. Blay moaned, arching his back and digging his fingers into Qhuinn's shoulders. "Qhuinn, I've loved you forever," he gasped softly. "I couldn't leave you if it meant my life. But I never thought you'd come to me." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Qhuinn muttered nearly incoherently. "I don't deserve you, I've hurt you so much and you deserve so much more. Someone better than me but please don't go looking. I can't live without you. I can't make it if I lose you and I'm so sorry I let a bunch of shit that doesn't mean anything get in the way." Blaylock shifted till his legs slid out from under the sheet covering him and he wrapped his legs around Qhuinn's waist. He caught Qhuinn's face in his hands and turned his face up to his. "Qhuinn, shhh, Qhuinn, stop tearing yourself apart. You are mine. You've always been mine, even before you would admit it. And now that I have you here, I'm not letting you go anywhere. And I'm not going anywhere, either." He pulled Qhuinn down, taking his mouth softly, gently. "Please, Qhuinn. Forget all that crap and just be here now, with me. Love me. I need you, Qhuinn. Qhuinn shook his head even as he tightened his grip on his lover. "You were hurt so bad. I can't hurt you more." "Qhuinn." Blaylock carded his fingers through the soft hair under his hands. "I'm fine. I'm healing and you're very mistaken if you think I'm letting go of you any time soon." He tightened his legs around his friend's waist and arched up against him. "Love me, Qhuinn, please. I need you so much." "Blaylock," Qhuinn whispered brokenly, burying his face in the warm skin of Blay's neck. His lips burned against Blay's throat as his hands found their way down to cup the vampire's ass. He held the male tight to him, burning kisses down the muscled column of Blay's neck and over his broad chest. Blay threw his head back and arched up as Qhuinn's mouth closed over his nipple, sucking the little nub into a hard, painful peak. The low moan rolled from him and his hands scrabbled against the back of Qhuinn's sweatshirt, pulling up on the material, frantic to get it off. Qhuinn shifted, sliding his lips across the well-formed pecs to give reciprocal attention to Blay's other nipple, determined to work his lover into a frenzy. It was working very well. Blay moaned again, barely able to think beyond a desperate need to pull his lover deep inside him and as Qhuinn's broad hands slid down inside his sweatpants and over his heated skin, Blay cried out his lover's name. "Please, please..." he begged. "I need you, Qhuinn. I want you so bad." Qhuinn shifted to his knees, pulling down Blay's sweatpants as he rose. Blay lifted himself allowing his pants to slip off his narrow hips and the pants and sheet slid from his body together. Qhuinn's eyes were riveted on his lover's magnificent body as he quickly stripped off his own clothes, dropping them to the floor, and he sat back on his heels, letting his gaze roam over the flushed, heaving body laid out before him. "Oh my god, Qhuinn, please, what are you doing?" Blay cried brokenly, his hands reaching out. "I'm drowning in your beauty, lover," Qhuinn whispered hoarsely, catching Blay's hands and pulling them to his growing erection. He gasped sharply as Blay's hands tightened around the rock hard cock jutting out in front of him. "I want you to drown in me, Qhuinn," Blay begged, squeezing and stroking the trembling member burning against his palm. Qhuinn dropped his head, taking Blay's mouth again as he reached for the small table beside the bed. His fingers closed over a tube of antibiotic cream Vishous had left behind and he twisted off the lid. Without leaving Blay's mouth, he squeezed the cream onto his fingers and immediately slid his fingers down the crevice of Blaylock's ass, seeking the opening to his most private place. Blay gasped, breaking the kiss as his head rolled back and his body arched into Qhuinn's as his lover's finger slid deep inside his body. He cried out again and again as Qhuinn stroked into him, adding a second, then a third finger into the hot, silky channel. Qhuinn tried to scissor his fingers open, wanting to loosen his lover, to prepare him, but Blay's body gripped his fingers so tightly, spasming and shivering around him. "My god, Blay," Qhuinn growled against his lover's neck. "You're so tight, so hot. I want to crawl inside you and never come out." "Then do it," Blaylock breathed. "I need you, Qhuinn. I want you, right now. Please... " Qhuinn lifted himself up and grabbed the tube of cream again. He coated his throbbing cock and shifted between Blay's spread legs. Hooking his arms under his lover's knees, opening him even farther, he pressed the slick head of his cock against the swollen, pulsing opening and thrust hard. Blaylock screamed as Qhuinn sheathed himself right to his balls in one deep, hard thrust. "Baby, I love you," Qhuinn groaned as he thrust hard and fast. "You are everything to me and... oh, sweet Scribe Virgin, what you do to me, Blaylock, what you do to me." Blay's legs wrapped around his waist as Qhuinn reached under his lover, cupping the tight globes of his ass and pulling him even closer. He thrust hard, sheathing himself deep inside Blay before pulling nearly completely out, sliding deep again as Blay's heat seared his skin. As he felt the tingling and tightening of his spine, the molten lava pooling low in his back, he pushed himself up and slammed his fists into the mattress on either side of Blay's head. He braced himself as he drove his aching cock into the beautiful male under him, straining to impart with every move of his body the depth of his love for his best friend. "Qhuinn!" Blay wailed, his body shuddering, his legs tightening around the huge, muscular body slamming into him. "I love you, Qhuinn, so much sometimes I ache. Please, please, Qhuinn... " "Shh, baby, I'm here," Qhuinn breathed in his ear, his lips burning up Blay's throat and over his jaw. "Come for me, baby, I wanna feel you come for me." He took Blay's mouth in a hard kiss, urgent, on fire, and as he bit and sucked at the lush lower lip, he felt his lover's balls draw up against his body and knew he was close. He reached between their slick bodies and wrapped his hand around Blay's cock. There was no gentleness in this lovemaking; his need was too hot, too all-consuming. He gave everything he had and took everything he needed as he drove into the sweet, trembling body in his arms. He tightened his grip on Blay's cock, sliding his hand up and down the rock hard shaft with the same rhythm as his thrusts and as his orgasm finally exploded through him, Blay tore himself free from Qhuinn's kiss. Wailing his name brokenly, he came apart in Qhuinn's hands, the heat from his orgasm pulsing and burning over his lover's stomach and chest. Qhuinn's seed filled his lover's slick, hot passage and Blay clawed at his back and shoulders, pulling him closer yet as his own creamy bursts still pulsed out between them. Qhuinn whispered his name again and again, his body wrapped tight around the other vampire as he shuddered his way through the last of his orgasm. CHAPTER 5 John was itching to head down to the clinic to see for himself how Blaylock was doing but Vishous talked him out of it. "John, give them some time. They won't be sleeping forever and do you really wanna walk into that if they're awake by the time you get down there?" Vishous' deep laugh rumbled through his chest at John's involuntary shudder. "I'll tell you this much," V continued, taking pity on the younger vampire. "When I checked him out before leaving the two of them alone, Blay was doing great. The wounds were all closed up; they won't need much more time for everything to get back to looking normal. And all his vitals were looking good enough I'll hazard that the concussion is healing up fast, too. I know you're itching to see him for yourself, but just --" He broke off at the soft murmuring at the door to billiards room, cocking an eyebrow as he watched Qhuinn leading Blaylock into the room, his arm tight around the redhead's waist. John leapt to his friend's free side, adding his own arm to the support, both him and Qhuinn ignoring Blay's protests that he could manage just fine, thank you very much. "He insisted he was good enough to get up," Qhuinn explained with a shrug and a contrite look at Vishous as he and John led Blay over to the couch. "I didn't know how to make him stay put short of sitting on him and I didn't think that would help his recovery any." V crossed the room, squatting down in front of his patient. "How long's he been awake?" he asked as he lifted Blay's hospital scrubs' top to check the chest slice. He shot a quick look up at Qhuinn when nothing was forthcoming. The warmth coloring the vampire's face drew a smirk from the Brotherhood's medic but V was determined to pull this out all the way so he just waited for a response. "It's been... a... few minutes," Qhuinn muttered self-consciously, his attempts to sound casual failing dismally. "Yeah, I'll bet it has," V rumbled deeply, the dry tone setting fire to the flush spreading down Qhuinn's neck. When he turned back to his patient, a huge grin spread over his face at the satisfied smile Blay was wearing. "Well, it would appear that there's not much point in sending you back to bed, true?" he cracked. "I mean, if you've got that much energy... " He trailed off pointedly, laughing outright this time as Qhuinn gave him a shove. "Ok, you can quit any time now," he growled as he dropped down beside Blay and pulled the male into the circle of his arms and back against his chest. He looked up as the king and his shellan, Beth, entered the room. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," he boomed out, hearing Beth whisper Blay's name. He let Beth lead him over to the couch and stood in front of one of his newest soldiers while Beth pushed John over to make room for her. "How are you doing, son? You had your boy here totally freaked for awhile there." Blay looked over at Qhuinn, not hiding the love shining out of his eyes. "I'm 100% better than I was, sir, thank you." Wrath snorted. "Well, if that's Qhuinn I can hear breathing hard beside you, I should think so, and it's damn well about time, is all I can say to that. Not that it was your fault," he added, turning to glare at Qhuinn. Though Qhuinn knew the king, being completely blind, couldn't actually see him, he still squirmed under that hot gaze. He sucked in a deep breath but when he opened his mouth to speak, Blay reached up. Catching Qhuinn by the nape of his neck, he pulled his lover's head down, taking his mouth in a soft, warm kiss. He ignored the hoots and catcalls started by Vishous, as well as John's loud clapping, and leaned into the big, hard body as he felt Qhuinn's arms tighten around him. "Never mind, my own, none of that matters now. You're here, you've come to me now, and that's what counts." Keeping his eyes on the only person he needed to keep his heart beating, Qhuinn spoke to V. "He doesn't have to go back down to the clinic, does he?" "No, but I want him to take it easy for a least another night. If everything looks good tomorrow, he can go back on rotation then. You can crash in your own bed, Blay." "No," Qhuinn murmured, holding Blaylock's gaze. "He'll be in my room. I'll move his stuff over in the morning." Blay's breath hitched in his chest and his beautiful blue eyes filled slowly. He blinked hard, trying to push back the tears he'd fought off for so long. Even though these were now tears of joy, of happiness and gratitude to the Scribe Virgin, he refused to let them fall here, in front of his warrior brothers. If he started, he might not be able to stop. He'd become more certain with each passing day that he'd never have a chance with the one male he wanted more than anyone or anything in this world and in fact, had nearly decided he'd have to leave the mansion and give up his shot at becoming a Brother. It was hurting too much to be around Qhuinn knowing there was no hope of his love being accepted... or returned. He'd tried for so long to convince himself that Qhuinn did love him, that he was only trying to protect Blay from giving up everything to follow him after the incident with Lash. But the pain was huge as he watched Qhuinn still trying to protect himself after a lifetime of rejection by everyone who meant anything to him, as he still believed that a female of worth and his own young was all it would take to make his world right. And the more time that passed, the less Blay was able to hold onto the fairy tale belief that if Qhuinn would just give it chance, would just take the chance with Blay, he'd see that everything that really mattered was right here, and he was fast reaching the point of tossing in the towel. But the miracle had finally happened. His heart and soul, his own, had finally come to him. Had finally realized that he had it all in his hands already. That Blaylock would give anything, do anything, to make Qhuinn feel accepted... and loved. That here was someone who would always be there, no matter what. Who would take on the world to keep him safe, to show him he belonged, to make him believe that all the love and passion he could ever want or need was wrapped around him, secure within his arms. "Put your boy to bed, Qhuinn," Vishous spoke up from the bar. He raised his glass in a mock salute, fighting to hold his grin in. "He needs his rest and I think it's gonna take him more time than it should to get it." "Vishous," Beth scolded gently, coughing to cover her own laugh at the huge smirk on John's face. Blay ignored the friendly teasing, his eyes locked on Qhuinn as the big male pulled him gently to his feet. He knew his male was overcompensating for his previous distance, as well as over his fear for Blay's health, but he didn't protest. He's heard the heart wrenching cries and pleadings as he fought his way up from the fog he'd been drifting in and he knew how terrified Qhuinn had been of losing him. If Qhuinn needed to fuss over him for awhile to start feeling safe and secure again, well, Blay could let him have that. And once he got him upstairs, Blay could let his beautiful male wrap himself around him and he could start showing Qhuinn what it felt like to really be loved. Always Mine I push her onto her back and lay between her legs as she struggles under me and I grab her flailing arms and pin them to the ground and hover over her, looking down into her twisted face. I hold her down and watch her, watch her head whip from side to side, her breasts swaying, her hips thrusting below me, and I grind my hips back into her, feeling myself get hard. She drops her head to the floor and gasps for breath. "Jude," she says, her voice calming, sounding tired and scared. "Jude, please, please get off of me." I roll my hips between her legs as she mumbles to me, words that mean nothing, all I can think about is how it was to be inside of her, how nothing else mattered but that, but us, but that's all gone now, and there's only this, this anger, this pain, and I want her to feel it more, I want her to know. I reach between our bodies and I start unbuckling my pants. "Jude! No!" she yells and her free hand smashes into my face. I drop down onto her hard, bashing my chest into her chest and reach my other hand down to pull my pants and underwear down to my thighs. She struggles below me, her hips thrusting up, her legs kicking at my legs, her hands pushing at my shoulders, but she can't move me, and each kick and scratch just excites me, reveling in each hit, driving me to greater lust and rage. I grab my stiff cock and pull her panties to the side. Her breath is hot and fevered in my ear and I hear her whimper as I push my fingers into her. She's wet, her pussy is soaking wet. I imagine it's wet from sex with him, I imagine it's wet with her cum, I imagine it's sticky with his cum, and then deep inside me I hope it's wet because she still wants me. I break into her easily but then she suddenly pulls away from me and I slide back out. I rise up over her quickly and drop back onto her, lifting myself further up her body, and I press myself against her as I reach down and shove into her again. "No, please, Jude," she cries hoarsely as I push into her hard, her hands pushing at me weakly now, her chest hitching as she cries, her legs falling to the side. I grab her wrists and pin them to the floor, hold my body over her, and start sliding in and out of her, working my cock into her. She stares up at me, her lips moving, asking me to stop, her eyes red, her face streaked with tears, and I shove into her hard, and she whines and closes her eyes. I slide out of her, feeling her cunt wrapped around me, feeling it as I've felt it so many times before, and she's so wet, her cunt grips me tightly, and I slide out of her so she's sucking at the tip and I slide back into her slowly and I sigh, feeling the rage coarse through my spine and I tremble as our hips meet, inside of her so deep that it hurts. I pull out of her and push back in, and start moving quicker, twisting into her, and I pull my knees up to her to penetrate her deeper, and the anger and pain are blurred by the lust and hunger. I look down at her body, always so beautiful to me, watching her breasts shake as I pound into her, her body moving under me, small grunts coming from her lips, and as much as I loved her, as much as I needed her, I could never see her as this, as a whore, as a thing to be used, and I want to drive into her so deep something inside of both of us will break, and I start to pant as I thrust into her harder, moving in long strokes, her pussy clasping to my cock. Her eyes flutter open and she looks up at me, her eyes that drowning brown, and I look down at her, gasping and huffing, and her small front teeth bite down on her lower lip and she moans, and I slam into her so hard she cries out and she lifts her hips to meet me, and I'm sinking into her, and I jam into her hard, and twist inside of her, barely moving, and she rotates her hips below me, and her lips part as she sighs, her back arching to pull me into her further. We meet in a hectic rhythm, born of rage and lust, because there are no lines, every emotion just bleeds into the next, and I fall down on her, slide my hands under to scoop her butt under me, my fingers digging into her, and she wraps her arms around my back, wraps her legs around my body, and we pull and push against each other, gasping and straining to melt together, grunting and whining, and she's moaning loudly, and I latch onto her neck, sucking at her skin, and she arches under me, and I pull from her, and she whines and begs, and I slam into her hard, lifting her hips from the floor, and start pounding into her again, even faster, moving in a blurring speed until everything dissolves inside of her, and she screams as her cunt explodes around my cock and I burst inside of her, twisting into her to push it inside of her, fill her, her body tight beneath me, my fingers clutching her butt, her body wrapped around me, spilling into her, jerking and spurting in a flood, met by her climax that shutters around my pulsating cock, until she falls exhausted to the floor and I pull my lips from her neck. I lay on top of her, both of us panting for breath, her body limp under me, my knees drawn up and hips pushed down to keep my draining cock inside of her, and I slide my hands up her body and she shivers. I push myself up and look down at her as she stares back at me, her eyes soft, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, and I grunt as I shutter inside of her once more, spilling the last of my seed into her. "Oh God, Jude," she whispers. She touches my bruised and sore face, and I sigh. "Elena," I whisper back. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me down on top of her. I nuzzle my face into her neck and kiss her skin softly. "I missed you," she whispers into my ear. My teeth graze her neck and I inhale her scent, taste her. "Oh, baby," she sighs. I bite her neck lightly and she moans and lifts her hips underneath me, pulling my semi-hard cock into her deeper, and I grab her hair to pull her head to the side, stretching her neck to my mouth, and I know she's mine again, she was always mine, and I'll never lose her, never. -- Note: Song Lyrics are taken from "I'm Free Now" by Morphine