by Jana Downs
Alex’s eyebrow rose. “The two people you care most about in the world? Jesus, Damian, you have it bad, mate. Is he your Bride?”
Damian sighed and put his head in his hands, closing his eyes. “He might be.” The words were whispered. “I think that’s why I’m going crazy. He won’t talk to me because Kal is mad at him for sleeping with me, and now he’s gone, and if he doesn’t come back—”
“He’ll be back,” Alex interrupted. “They always come back. This is the stress of being with one of the Ravyns, brother. A warrior’s life is a lot more dangerous than an artist’s.” He patted Damian on the back. “I’ll talk to Kal when he returns and see if I can talk some sense into him. Why don’t you stay here until then? I mean, Ally-cat has been staying in your old room, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t have it back in the meantime.”
Damian’s head snapped up. Allasandro had been sleeping in his room. In his bed. Surrounded by his old things. The notion gave him some comfort. “I would like that,” he said softly. Alex smiled knowingly.
“Of course. Let me introduce you to the Ravyns beforehand, and I’ll have Marcel go fetch your things from your apartment.”
After some very intense introductions were complete and the last of the complaints lodged against Damian with the Master of Haven, the Ravyns went about their business escorting Salvatore into town, and the vampires went to their rooms to get some much-needed rest. It was positively unnatural for vampires to be awake in the middle of the day.
Damian slipped into his old room with a bare amount of hesitation. He knew he was crossing a line somewhere but was unable to help himself. The hole in his chest was burning, and the urge to feel close to Allasandro was undeniable. Is this what Alex felt like the whole time Kal was gone? He turned on the bedside lamp. As with most rooms in the mansion, Allasandro’s room had the same heavy black-out curtains vampire dwellings were famous for.
Damian was surprised to find that very little had changed in the way of décor since he’d moved out years ago. The room was still the same shades of brown and teal that Maddy had picked out when Damian had been too busy to do it himself.
He opened the drawers of his old sturdy oak dresser and was surprised to find all of Allasandro’s clothing folded in extremely neat rows over the course of three drawers, underwear and socks in the top drawer. Who really organized their socks by color and length? The shirt drawer was in the middle, again organized by color and shirt type and finally the pants drawer on the bottom. Damian was surprised to note that Ally didn’t hang his jeans up like most people. Instead, he tucked them away in this chest. So what did he keep in the closet? Hmmmm…
Damian crossed to the closet, feeling a little guilty for being a creep and going through Allasandro’s stuff. He swung open the door and blinked. Weapons and combat attire filled the small walk-in to capacity. This was the side of Allasandro that Damian had never seen. Everything was neat and organized, maintained with the same love and care that most dancers paid their performance gear. This was Allasandro. This was his passion.
Damian reached out and ran his hand over the curve of a particularly nasty-looking scythe. It was one used for practice if the various knives and dings were any indication. He examined the other weapons and didn’t find any whose handle was so smooth from touching or whose blade was chipped from constant use. He touched Allasandro’s weapon of choice and felt a shudder pass through his entire body. He felt like he was touching an extension of his lover by touching his weaponry. The space that was empty beside the scythe called to him. It held the same shape. It was probably for another scythe, perhaps the one Allasandro had taken with him. He reasoned his way through the closet, enjoying the discovery of Allasandro’s passions.
He turned his attention away from the weaponry and glanced at the clear plastic hanging container that was filled with an interesting array of stones in each individual compartment. Damian had used the bit of plastic as a shoe holder when he’d lived here. He had to admit he liked Ally’s use better. Each section was labeled with the name of the stone, the magical properties it contained, and its use.
He ran his fingers over the cases, stopping when he touched a rather plain looking stone called “moonstone.” They were pale, polished stones with a lovely sheen on their surfaces. He unzipped the section which contained them and withdrew a single stone and the labeling card.
“Moonstone,” he read aloud. “A stone of healing and divination used primarily in works of love spells and healing spells. When used in connection with Blood diamonds, it can foretell the love life of a person.” Ally had written in a tight curled script in the corner, a more personal note to himself it seemed, “Good for party tricks but not very useful for much else. It does have a calming effect when worn around the neck or wrists.” Damian slipped the stone he’d extracted into his pocket, reasoning that Allasandro wouldn’t miss just one.
He crossed to the bed and pulled back the sheets, reveling in the scent of Allasandro that wafted up from his actions. God the man smelled good… He stripped out of his clothes faster than necessary and luxuriated into sliding into bed. The scent of all around him made him hard. He inhaled deeply, savoring the soft scent. The lotion on the night stand looked tempting, though he preferred lube.
His gaze flickered to the nightstand once again. On a whim he opened up the nightstand drawer and started rifling through its contents. He moved a small gray box out of the way, shoving it to the back of the drawer as he flipped through pictures of the other Ravyns, baseball tickets which were all-season passes to Sox games and other receipts that obviously hadn’t made their way to the trash bin yet. At least he had good taste in baseball teams. A faint buzzing sound emitted from the box and caused Damian to pause in his search for lube. Without preamble, he extricated the box from its place and flipped open the magnetized lid.
What he found there made him grin. Inside was a phallus no more than the length of his hand from the tip of his middle finger to his wrist and no thicker than two of his thick digits. Judging by the buzzing sound it was making, it was a vibrating toy as well.
“Tsk tsk, naughty boy,” Damian purred to the empty room. “Now that you’ve had me, I doubt this meager thing would satisfy you.” He held it in the palm of his hand and used his other to twist the bottom to silence the buzzing.
He brought the soft plastic to his nose and sniffed, wondering if it had been used recently. The slightly acrid scent of cleaner was the most prominent, indicating that it had been washed recently. He inhaled deeper and was rewarded by the tangy earthy smell of Allasandro. He groaned. Now he wished that he would’ve taken his time to suck and lick and taste all of Ally’s hidden recesses on their night together. He’d been so desperate to be inside him that he’d forgone the more teasing pleasure in favor of a more desperate need. Now he wished he’d explored all of his subtle desires.
Still holding the vibrator in his hand, he rummaged through the rest of the box. Condoms, another receipt, he was beginning to wonder if he ever threw the things away, and, hallelujah, lube.
“Hmmm…” Damian hummed. The possibilities swirled through his mind like naughty imps sporting tempting propositions. He hadn’t been bad in so long. Being a father had cured him of his most devious behavior, but now Kal was a grown man and Allasandro…well, he was the source of his newfound interest in the more wicked side of his life. He wanted to be bad. The urge to leave his own scent so that their smells mingled together to haunt Allasandro when he returned, as his scent was haunting Damian right now, was strong.
“Damian,” he chastised himself. “You are now entering the realm of being creepy and slightly stalker-like in appearance.” He knew logically that what he was doing was over the top, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
He uncapped the lube and squeezed a generous portion into his palm. He rested the vibrator on his chest and wrestled the uncooperative pair of boxers he’d donned down his knees and kicked them off into the bottom of the bed. His cock throbbed at the
idea of what he was about to do.
He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the scent and feel of Allasandro. His slick hand palmed the head of his already aching length, sliding back the foreskin and working it in a jerky circular twist that would bring him to climax in no time flat. He groaned aloud, trailing his other hand down slowly, picturing Allasandro doing the same thing just the week before.
* * * *
Allasandro touched him almost hesitantly, as if touching Damian’s body, if done incorrectly, was a punishable offense. He ran his palms over Damian’s taut stomach, making the muscles jump at the stimulation.
“That’s it, naughty boy,” Damian encouraged. “Touch me in all the ways you like to be touched. Show me what makes you feel good.”
Allasandro’s hand wrapped around his shaft at last, giving an experimental tug that had Damian’s hips shooting off the mattress.
“Yeah, baby. Just like that.” His naughty boy’s other hand cupped his already tight sack, rolling the delicate flesh between his fingers. Those gorgeous golden eyes had never left the area he was tormenting with his hands. After a moment, he surprised Damian by burying his face in the place where Damian’s cock and balls were separated by only a tiny span of skin and inhaled deeply. Damian’s breath hitched.
“Christ!” he cried out as Ally began laving the area with his tongue. He sucked first one and then the other ball into his mouth before letting them slide free. His hand never stopped the steady motion on his cock.
* * * *
Damian’s shaking hand reached up to twist the vibrator’s end, turning it on to full capacity. His hand on his cock got faster, and his other hand dragged the vibrator down his body. He pressed it against his tight sack before continuing his downward path. He spread his legs to expose the line of his ass. He pressed the toy to his perineum, just hard enough to tease instead of penetrate. He wasn’t a bottom, but he enjoyed his backside stimulated when the occasion called for it. His hand jerked harder on his weeping dick. It was so the occasion right now.
* * * *
Allasandro was coming apart in front of Damian’s eyes as he was commanded to his knees in front of the vampire. He panted as Damian told him to play with his dick but forbid him to come without permission.
“Yes, sir.” The whisper of submission went right to Damian’s head. Their games of dominance and submission were growing ever more in depth. It was intoxicating.
He tapped his dick on Allasandro’s virgin lips. Well, virgin enough. He’d confessed that he’d never given head before, and Damian had found the idea of breaking in that mouth to the pleasures of cocksucking to be a temptation a better man than he could not resist.
“Suck it, naughty boy.” Ally’s eyes climbed up his body to meet his eyes, licking his lips to show his nervousness. Damian’s body thrummed with impatient energy at that lovely look. He knew Ally found his uncut cock fascinating, but he was also nervous about doing something wrong. “Use your hand to work what you can’t get in your mouth.” Damian threw his naughty puppy a bone.
Hesitantly, Allasandro leaned forward and opened his mouth. Damian stayed still, letting Allasandro get used to the look and smell of the cock in front of him. His tongue darted out and lapped at the slit, which had produced a pearlescent drop of liquid during his perusal. As the taste hit the Ravyn’s tongue, he moaned, and Damian echoed his cry.
“Allasandro…” He groaned his name in warning. The Ravyn leaned forward and sucked the first inch of cock into his previously untried mouth. Damian gasped, and it was then that Allasandro realized his true power. The man could bring Damian to his knees without even trying.
“Suck me. Suck me, Allasandro. Harder, baby. Please.” Damian was about ready to blow. He was near begging at this point. Allasandro obliged him.
The soft wet cavern of his lover’s mouth was too much for him in a matter of moments. All he could do was hold on as Allasandro sucked and worshipped his dick, slurping down his release like it was the sweetest of ambrosias.
* * * *
“Allasandro!” Damian shouted as he jerked one last time and erupted all over his stomach and chest. A particularly enthusiastic splash hit his cheek. He collapsed back on the bed, panting heavily. He reveled in his pleasure for the first time in days. When Allasandro returned, heaven and hell combined would not keep him from claiming what was his.
Chapter Twelve
“It’s weird being back in Demontia without Salvatore,” Dageus murmured, belly-crawling into the cave that they’d shared for centuries while looking after their Prince.
“Agreed,” Allasandro grunted, wincing as his stomach scraped across a rock. They dropped down into the pitch black for several moments before landing on the soft cave mud underneath the opening.
“Can I get a light in here, Ally-cat?” Dageus asked as they regained their feet. Allasandro reached into his well of power and drew out his element of choice. Flames erupted from his finger tips, illuminating the slick cave walls and jewellike stalagmites. There was a room in the deepest depths of this cave which was filled almost to the ceiling with royal gems and treasures. It used to act as the throne room while they’d lived here. “I wish my specialization was fire. It’s so much cooler than mine,” Dageus complained, snapping him out of his contemplation of their former life.
“Oh please. It’s fine so long as you’re not in close contact with your enemy. Fighting in a close combat area like a warehouse or a sewer is very uncool. Burning shit does not smell pleasant no matter how cool it looks burning.” Allasandro, as per usual, was making a joke, lightening the mood for them both.
“I don’t care if you occasionally burn shit, literal or figurative. At least you don’t have powers that dwell in spirit and heart. How lame is that?” Dageus continued to bitch.
“I don’t know, D. The ability to rip someone’s soul out of their body is a pretty intense power.” Allasandro commanded the torches, which hadn’t seen light in the many months they’d been away, to spring to life and illuminate their path.
“You know I’d never use that. It’s…too horrible.” Dageus scuffed his boot-clad foot against a loose bit of rock. “You feeling any better?” he asked, changing the subject.
Ally shrugged. “My stomach is no longer rolling if that’s what you mean.” He didn’t say that he still felt empty as hell and that he was about two more depressing thoughts away from cutting himself, but his best friend didn’t need to know everything.
“That’s good.” Dageus sounded like he wanted to say more but let it drop. He probably didn’t want to know what Allasandro was thinking about his daddy any more than Ally wanted to share said information with him. He cleared his throat and continued on through the main passageway of the cave. “Do you think this kid is going to be excessively hard to find?”
Allasandro shrugged. “He’s been lost down here for a couple days now. Probably wandered into one of the side paths. For me it would probably be impossible to pick up the scent and track the kid, but you’re the nose, brother. You tell me how hard it will be.”
Instead of answering, Dageus started scenting the air, taking short, sharp inhalations to get a whiff of any delicate scents that could be wafting about. Ally leaned a palm against the wall and let his brother work. It wasn’t long before Dageus was being a good bloodhound and circling a scent.
“He walked a lot in this area,” Dageus murmured as he worked. “Between these two columns particularly. Back and forth. Back and forth. Must’ve been pacing.”
“He was blind, D. He was probably scared shitless,” Ally offered.
Dageus shook his head. “Nope. Not scared. Impatient. Worried. Not scared. Not yet.” He crossed the floor to one of the side passages. “He started heading this way. Looking for the throne room most likely. Probably wanted the spirit of Judgment to keep him company.” Dageus referenced the statue which held the old soul of a special ancestor of the Salvatore line which aided the Ravyns.
“Didn’t we haul that massive
ass statue with us when we left? I mean, I nearly broke my back hauling something massive, and if you tell me it wasn’t him, then I’ll have to get pissed at Anthony for making us do another meaningless workout routine,” Ally griped. He followed after Dageus as he took a sharp left.
“Judgment has three statues that he can travel between,” Dageus recalled, pressing his nose against the limestone wall. His nose came away smudged with something slimy. Gross. “One that we carry, one that stays in the cave behind the waterfall, and another that is mounted above the throne room at the demon palace. Needless to say, Judgment is never at the one at the palace unless he’s spying for Salvatore. Then again, that’s why Desmond doesn’t use the main throne room anymore.” Another deep sniff. “Found it. Hell yeah!” His triumphant shout echoed throughout the cave.
Allasandro winced. “Damn. You are loud.”
“We might be back by supper time. Hell yeah I’m loud.” He turned from Allasandro and all but raced down the corridor, lost in the scent he was chasing.
“Hey!” Ally called, running to catch up. He grabbed Dageus’s arm. “Slow down, brother. We’re going to have to be careful. Just because people may be lost doesn’t mean that they won’t be down here at all. You know that.” Having to be the voice of reason didn’t sit well with Ally’s personality, so he cracked a joke. “Besides, it’ll be good for you to be removed from your vampirey-appendage for a little bit. I was beginning to think you two were becoming conjoined.”
Dageus’s lips thinned. “Not. Funny.” He didn’t sound too angry though. He was Ally’s best friend after all. More seriously he added, “Ally I’ve been meaning to talk with you for a while now.”
Allasandro’s heart stuttered. He really, really didn’t want to talk about Damian right now. He’d almost forgotten his misery over the course of the last twenty minutes. He prepared himself for the blow that was to come. The questions. The accusations. He just wanted to focus on the mission. Why did Dageus always have to pick the most inopportune moments, aka a moment where Ally couldn’t escape, to have these deep conversations about feelings of all things?
