**Interlude 20 - He is a forest and a night of dark trees

With Émile pressed close to his side, Fabien did not struggle to succumb to his sleep, though the boy could not resist taking some advantage of their exhausted state. He breathed in their scent as he stroked his fingers along the length of their spine. And when finally drifted to sleep, his fingers were tangled in their hair.

While they slept, the youth's arm remained firm around his pet. The press of his body, so self-assured and secure, was sure to be a comfort should dreams once again disturb their rest.

Fabien finally awoke, golden and glowing as Alexander of Macedon. He allowed his body to shiver to life with a delicious, cat-like flex of muscle and tendon. His storm cloud eyes found Émile, and the boy sighed. Weary and heartsick as a young war lord reluctantly leaving their tent to take up their sword.

The boy's eyes drifted over his pet, and his expression changed as untroubled bliss and triumphant pleasure were replaced by concern. And a fox-like calculation that narrowed his fine eyes and made him gnaw at his lower lip.

Émile, of course, was not privy to his thoughts. They could not see his features, not hear the soft words of Madam Fakhir that moved smoke-like through his mind. And were the sharp green of their eyes to find him, the boy's expression was neutral, and hard to read.

He sighed again, and pressed his lips to the gleaming curve of Émile's shoulder. His rough palms were warm upon their low back as he pulled them ever closer against him. Soon his hands were all over them, proving fresh bruises and feeling over the parts of their body that made them ache.

Émile descended into sleep with the ease of a stone sinking into silken river silt, the tension in their exhausted body unspooling as their breathing became deep and even.

They slept still and quiet tucked against the reassuring weight of Fabien’s body. Only once did they stir - their limbs taken with sudden distress, their breath the high-pitched whine of a frightened dog in the back of their throat - but it was short-lived, the black waters of sleep closing over their head before they were even conscious of the disturbance.

They did not awake when Fabien shivered to alertness. The press of their body was warm and soft against his, the curves of their silhouette beneath his blankets as smooth as finely sculpted marble. They were guileless in slumber, and without the haughty disdain that haunted their features in waking hours their expression was almost agreeable. The bruises he had encouraged to darken the cream of their skin had coloured prettily. Their warm breath came through parted lips whose corners were the rich purple of a ripe plum and the sockets of their eyes were shaded with smeared kohl.

Their dark eyelashes shivered against their cheek at the press of his lips and they stirred drowsily, their thighs trembling against him as they stretched. His fingers brushed a fresh bruise, finding sore flesh, and their groan was low and husky in their throat. They shifted against him, their body warm as a sunned cat.

Their eyes opened in a sliver of springtime green. It required a moment of sluggish concentration to piece together where they were, whose arm was slung so familiarly around their waist. Fabien was sure to recognize the moment of clarity as they stiffened beneath his hand. Their pretty mouth set in a line of vexation when they met his gaze through dark lashes. The black of their tousled hair shadowed their face.

They had perhaps acquired the sense not to balk, as the only sound they made was another soft groan as his fingers found skin that ached beneath them. But they could not entirely resist petulantly turning aside, twisting their head so as to not meet his eyes as they settled into a pointed imitation of curled sleep.

Fabien's eyes did not grow dark with vexation at Émile's sullen response. They were no doubt pleased to be spared his smug delight, oblivious to the victorious gleam that so illuminated his sharp features.

He snaked his way against their spine, a spark of delight tugging at the corner of his youthful mouth. Even with their back to him, Émile was not spared his affection. Not the flush of warm breath on their neck as he inclined in towards them. Nor the soft brush his of lips over the curve of their pale shoulder.

"Toujours une telle tentation." He sighed against their skin.

His hands still toyed with the places on their body that ached. The urchin knew exactly where they were, he found every bruise from memory alone. He kissed them as he pressed his fingers against firmly against their skin, brushing over bruises with his rough thumb.

The soft sounds he coaxes from them had the boy's pulse racing. He breathes in his pet's scent, the wildness of them entwined with the smell of his own skin. It had the boy shivering gently against them.

"Not yet." He murmured beneath his breath, as though to soothe the ferocity of his desire. "There will be time enough later."

The boy painfully, relunctantly peeled his body away from the warmth of Émile's. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Plenty of time." He said, in a tone which had a certain cruel amusement in it sure to irritate them.

"Get dressed, Émile. Let's get you clean and fed so I can go about my day, oui?"

The youth commanded, as he found his feet and reached for a fresh shirt. He dressed swiftly, his feline sharp eyes sure to find his pet if they dawdled.

"Be quick about it. My time is precious." He said, with a vibrant smile unpleasant as a nail over glass.

When suitably attired, the urchin ushered them from his room and tended to them as promised. Émile was forced to join the boy as he bathed. Subjected again no doubt to his wandering hands as he indulged in touching their water slick skin. They were amply fed, and rewarded for their good behavior with a small glass of wine

The boy left them captive in his lonely quarters, though with a single book of their choosing to alleviate some of the monotony.

With the room locked behind him, the boy found his way back to his Master's door. He knocked, and asked softly if he might enter.

The curve of Émile’s back was warm with sleep as he pressed against them, their body motionless with a sullen impression of inanimate slumber as they nestled in a hollow of blankets that smelled of Fabien’s skin. He could feel how the throb of their heart quickened when he touched them, hear the soft gasp of their breath caught in their throat as he lazily pressed into flesh that trilled beneath his touch.

They did not grow hard and reluctant, nor draw away beneath him. Their body stretched in a trembling arc, spine curving in a shiver, the small of their back pressed into him.

Émile was not quick to stir at his imperious command. They remained curled, half-dressed and speckled with bruises, amid the bedding. Their eyes were concealed beneath their dark hair and it was difficult to gauge their response.

Then slowly, grudgingly, they slid from the bed and on to bare feet. They moved as one still recovering from a night of drinking, as though every movement were liable to jostle their piercing head. They sluggishly dressed and followed him out of the room.

They were uncharacteristically silent, resentful, their defiance only evident in their slow-moving disinterest in following his commands. Their eyes made every excuse to avoid his, pretending even as his hands relished their water-warmed skin that he was not there. Even when the press of his fingers into purple skin shivered beads of water from their bare chest, they looked mulishly through him.

The only exception was the wine he offered, which they finished in one long draught, relishing it despite themself.

He left them in his windowless room, the single book he’d mercifully allowed them clutched limply in their hand. Their hair was curled with water and for just a moment before he closed them in, the cold green of their hard gaze followed him from behind rings of dark hair.

He did not have to wait long for a response at his Master’s door - the invitation to enter rose promptly at his knock.

“Fabien,” the vampire greeted him. The word was warm and golden on his tongue.

He was in the middle of dressing, half his attire still folded lazily over the edge of the bed. His chest was bare, skin made grey in the soft evening light streaming through the balcony door. Cool night air whispered at the back of the boy’s neck as he entered.

“Je suis heureux que tu sois venu,” Tariq said, the affection in his tone reflexive and unselfconscious. His eyes were pale in the gloom as he looked over his shoulder, though they did not quite find the boy at his door.

“I want to hear how you fared last night.”

No amount of preparation was ever enough to make Fabien ready for an encounter with his Master. Even though so little time had passed, the boy's heart still skipped an involuntary beat or two in his chest.

All at once his mind was wiped clean. The splinters of irritation, for surely he had discovered them beneath his skin, and the grumbling displeasure all immediately dissipated. Meaningless and inconsequential in his presence.

The boy's expression softened, and his eyes grew luminous with pleasure as he regarded the vampire. He lingered with one foot beyond the threshold like one in a dream.

"Hm?" The boy murmured distractedly.

"Oh, oui that." He said.

He suddenly recalled that he must breathe, and did so with a sharp intake of air as he closed the door behind him.

"Only a scratch, Monsieur."

The subtle limp in his stride as he approached spoke otherwise. "A lucky escape, they near made a eunuch of me."

"I have your dove to thank for escaping that."

"Especially given that … it was not the way we expected to spend our evening." It was quite a feat that urchin managed to sound both accusatory and unfalteringly polite.

"Next time we may not be so lucky."

"Would you like my assistance in getting ready Monsieur?" It was not the most subtle ploy to minimize the space between them.

"You are… still content to let me keep my wolf, I hope?" He asked with sudden urgency, and there was a notable quiver of nervousness in his voice.

Tariq’s hands stilled as Fabien limped across the room, and he listened with quiet engrossment to his uneven gait. He had not gotten far in his dressing and the loose hair falling down his bare back was pale as the moonlight that cut a dark shadow behind him.

“Oui.” The vampire accepted the offer of assistance and gestured idly for him to approach.

However, when the boy stepped near he reached out and drew him close, leaning to wrap his arms around his torso. He leaned his chin on his shoulder as his hands presumptuously sought access beneath his shirt. The vampire continued to quietly listen to him speak as he boldly assessed the smooth skin of his waist, his hands falling to brush against his flank.

“What a shame that would have been.” There was a rough burr of insinuation in the words whispered in his ear as his hand grazed the skin between his legs. His breath was cool on the skin of his neck.

His fingers found the wound at the boy’s hip and inspected it with care. The touch of his hand was cool, and he was cautious not to upset the still-raw injury. There was gentle reverence as he inspected the edges of the jagged claw marks.

“I said to you,” he said softly. “That they are yours as long as you want them. Je n'interviendrai pas.”

Satisfied with his inspection, he turned the boy to face him. His eyes were inscrutable when they met his.

“I am pleased she was of use.” Genuine pleasure flushed the words. “Moreso that you are not hurt.”

He fell silent. A cool breeze rustled the red-stained fabric draping the walls and the curtains whispered a gentle susurrus.

“Do you have something to say to me, Fabien?” His tone was even and perfectly cordial.

It was quite remarkable that the boy continued to speak with such clarity.

The moment the vampire's hands were on him, Fabien was undone. He stumbled over his words, his breath sharp in his throat as his Master's hands slid across his skin.

Wherever he touched, he raised the fine hairs on the boy's youthful flesh. And when his hand brushed between his legs, the urchin struggled not to respond with a low moan.
He allowed his Master's inspection without complaint, and aided the glide of his hands with the eager arch of his lower back against him.

The boy's breath was almost gasping, his skin flushed to scarlet. There was a considerable pause before the youth realized that he had been asked a question.

"I-… o-oui." He replied, as he struggled to tear his attention away from the vampire's lips.

He straightened, and ran his hand through his golden hair as though to dislodge his thoughts.

"Oui, Monsieur, of ...of course I have." The boy continued slowly. "A propos du loup."

"You see I, I spoke to Madame Fakhir about them, my loup-garou. So I know it will happen again, the wolf will return with the moon.

"So I must ask a favour of you, Maître."

The boy reached for the vampire's hand. He overturned it carefully, and pressed his mouth to the vampire's fingers before he spoke again.

"Is there a place here… somewhere I can put them? Somewhere secure, where the wolf does not cause chaos in your house?"

The boy watched tentatively for the vampire's response before he continued.

"And I also wanted to ask of you-" He swallowed gently, and cleared his throat.

"- I would like to see them bound, Monsieur. Collared, at all times. It is practical, but also...

"... They will hate it." The urchin shrugged his bony shoulders nonchalantly. Cruel delight had curled its way into the corners of his mouth. "The idea pleases me."

He lifted his stormcloud eyes to meet his Master's moonlit gaze.

"Can you grant me such things?"

Tariq listened to Fabien’s words in silence. His hands were still on him, reluctant to leave and  relishing the arch of his back as his body leaned into him. He stroked him as one would a beloved cat, his hands sure and affectionate against his warmed skin.

He inclined his head to indicate he was listening. His hair fell pale as cream over his shoulder. The vampire’s skin was cool where the boy’s lips pressed against the back of his hand.

He was silent as the boy spoke, though his words seemed to ignite something within him and his sightless eyes blazed silver. Without speaking, he leaned and kissed the boy with a kiss that was deep and dark and hungry and absolutely delighted.

“Bien sûr,” he murmured huskily against the boy’s lips. “Of course you may find a sanctuary for your pet.”

The vampire considered a moment, his blind eyes glinting. “Perhaps the wine cellar,” he mused at last. His breath was cool against Fabien’s skin. “It is secure against even the beast, buried as it is beneath the earth.”

Fabien’s next question seemed to pluck the vampire’s superfluous breath from his chest. It was several seconds before he was able to find an answer, time where his hands stroked the skin beneath the boy’s shirt with delight.

“Oui,” he managed at least, the word breathy on his tongue. “Whatever you desire, it is yours, mon bien-aimé .”

He kissed him again, his mouth tasting of copper. It was clear the pleasure this line of questioning had sparked in the vampire’s breastbone, as he pressed his lips to his boy’s mouth with relish.

“We will go, and find you a collar for their throat. Whatever pretty thing you want, you will have it.”

The vampire did not have to voice his approval; it was plain from his throaty tone and how his palm played along the urchin’s ribs how this proposal pleased him.

“I am glad to see you taking to your pet,” he said soft and low. His teeth caught on the boy's ear. sharp but not quite enough to draw blood.

Fabien's fleeting concerns were immediately banished when his master's lips were on him. If he'd felt any lingering irritation at the vampire's blasé reaction to his evening, this too evaporated.

There was only him. The cool press of his mouth, the way his hands moved in a way that made the boy shiver. The urchin was unable to respond. He opened his lips to him, and released a softly appreciative moan against his tongue. His fingers twitched at his sides.

"Very ...very appropriate. Merci, Monsieur." The youth managed to rasp.

The vampire's hands upon his bare skin had begun to quicken the boy's pulse. He continued to lean gently into him, his breath sharp in his throat as he awaited his answer.

This time when he kissed him, the boy could not resist reaching for him. His hands sought his stomach, his chest. His long fingers were splayed and desperate to feel him.

"Ah, Merci Maître. Merci." He sighed, increasingly distracted from his purpose. "I would like that. Something sturdy, and beautiful."

The drag of the vampire's teeth made his breath catch. Suddenly the writhing boy could not remain still. He stretched out his spine, eager to press his mouth to his master's throat with trembling hunger. To kiss his way from his collarbone, high as he could reach, to the underside of his jaw.

"Mm," he rasped as he traced his lips across his cool skin. He breathed in his master's scent. "Oui, they are very, very pleasing. And I am making good use of them."

"When they are not trying to kill me, at least."

"Though locked in my room, and with your assistance..."

He rolled his bony shoulders with admirable, if not misguided youthful confidence. "Less of a problem now, I think."

"What can I do for you, Maître? Make use of me."

The edge of the vampire’s sharp teeth were visible only as ivory pinpricks when he smiled.

“I thought you might find that suitable,” he said with a twist of wry pleasure to his throaty tone.

He breathed in the scent of his boy’s clean hair, his breath cool as fog. His fingers marked the quickening of his pulse along the thin skin of his throat. His touch trailed down the hollow of his jugular notch, his thumb brushing the hard edge of his collarbone. His gaze was cool and pale as cemetery marble, the movement of his hand assured and steady on the boy’s warm skin.  

“That is very good.” He replied distractedly to Fabien’s assurances, his focus clearly tangled up elsewhere. “They might try, but they will never be the one to kill you. And we will see them bound and secure, as it pleases you.”

The vampire did not dwell on this, but pressed one hand along the back of the boy’s head, his fingers tangling indulgently in his hair, and bid his lips to press firmly against the smooth curve of his neck. The other found and trapped his palm along his stomach, softly guiding him along the flex of his bare ribs. His breath vibrated roughly in his throat, a deep thrum of pleasure plucked from his chest.

“Heed what you say to me,” he growled in his ear, the words gilded with insinuation.  

That indolent press of his hands, rich with the expectation he would surrender beneath his touch like an apple giving up its flesh to the knife, drifted low.

“Though there is something I wish to ask of you.”

He said it low and cool, but Fabien, acclimating to the vampire’s moods, might sense the shift in his demeanour, the questioning tense that pulled at his limbs. He pulled the boy close and held him tight against him.

“Have you been…” he trailed off, a flicker of uncharacteristic uncertainty colouring the words before dissolving. “Es-tu heureux ici? With me?”

Fabien turned his head aside and offered the lean stretch of his scar silvered throat to the vampire's hand. His touch drew a sigh of contentment from the urchin's narrow chest, and caused his sharp shoulders to rise.

His Master's words were greeted with distracted murmurs of breathy agreement. The boy's skin was hot, his youthful body stirring with young, desirous blood. But eager though he was, something made the youth's wandering hand pause.

He was given little time to dwell on the implication of those words. Not with the vampire's breath growling against his ear. The boy's lips parted, and wanton encouragement shaped his mouth.

The question caused the urchin to immediately swallow his indecent suggestions. He grew still, and his storm cloud eyes widened with surprise.

The answer came swiftly and without a breath of hesitation

"Oui." He replied warmly. "Oui, of course Monsieur. Très heureux. More here with you, than I have ever been."

He placed one long fingered palm against the cool skin of his cheek, and searched the vampire's sightless eyes.

"Why do you question it? You have decided to be rid of me?" He pried, mischievous humour concealing a genuine flicker of concern.

"Je peux peut-être te convaincre du contraire?"He said softly.

Despite his teasing, his thumb stroked the vampire's skin with unmeasurable affection. There could be no doubt that he spoke true, that this was where, and to whom, his heart belonged

That tension that had pooled in the vampire’s limbs trickled away as Fabien spoke. It was replaced by a slack ease which resembled nothing so much as relief, and he closed his eyes before he spoke.

“It gladdens me greatly to hear it,” he said. He nuzzled wolfishly into the press of his boy’s hand. His eyes opened in bemusement at Fabien’s gentle question and they were silver in the dark.

"To the contrary, I believe," he replied.

He stepped forward, compelling the boy back until his legs were stopped by the edge of his bed. He did not lift him, not quite, though the nearness of his body necessitated he part his legs to allow Tariq’s hips between them. Despite the sudden rough hunger of the gesture, he favoured the boy’s injured hip, careful not to jostle it. He spoke low and close in his ear, as though any in the house would be apt to eavesdrop.

“Fakhir speaks highly of you.” The rhythm of his voice moved like the stirring of hot blood. From somewhere in the cool dark of night beyond the open windows a cricket chirped once and fell silent.

“You have impressed her, I think, with your conduct, your cleverness. I should not be surprised when your tongue turns to honey whenever she is near.” This was teasing, though so nestled in warm affection there was no barb to it. The vampire pressed his lips to the curve of the boy’s neck beneath his ear, his breath cool and the lean of his half-clothed body so close his hair fell like mist across Fabien’s lap.

"You have taken admirably to the care of your wolf. I am pleased they are not wasted, and the notion of your hand firm on their tether thrills me.” His own hand crept along the boy’s inner thigh, fingers cradling firm around his leg as though to pull his legs around the vampire’s waist. “It is the same care you have shown with all that belongs to me. I do not fear my dove is mishandled with you.”

He paused this list of considerations and for a moment, Fabien could feel the breath that tickled his throat catch and hold.

"And… I delight in having you near. I've grown jealous.” It was spoken as a confession, the ash-grey shadows that blanketed the room solemn witness to this admission. “ I do not wish to ever be rid of you. This house would be empty without you in it.” A heavy intimation fell like a choking blanket of dust over the words, but before he had a chance to grasp the cause the vampire had taken him hungrily by the throat, lifting his chin until he met his blighted eyes.

“However-” The word fell like the murmur of shifting sand between them. Affectionate amusement haunted his cruel mouth. “I would not object to a demonstration of your joy.” His voice was rough as snarled velvet in his throat.

Fabien did not fully realise he was moving until his heels connected with the side of the bed. At the press of the vampire's body, he sank heavy as a stone, wide-eyed and wet lipped as he regarded his sightless eyes.

The urchin's features grew luminous with praise. Fakhir's comment in particular appeared to please him, as the boy's skin flushed with pleasure.

"Oh, … she… she does?" He asked, with poorly feigned nonchalance. "Well, it has been an honour to… get to know one so dear to you."

"And so… closely, you know?" The youth cleared his throat, his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

The urchin did not interrupt his master again. He listened with a growing delight that was only thinly threaded with unspoken questioning. His breath quivered at the press of the vampire's mouth, and his head arched back. The boy’s lips twitched with a satisfied smile, and his grey eyes were bright as autumn skies.

His youthful, glowing pride was replaced by something else when his throat was claimed. The urchin grew quite still, his breath heavy in his chest. His thighs were already parted invitingly, but at this a new urgency sharpened his movements.

His body began to grow supple with cat-like liquidity. He hooked his ankle around the back of his master's thigh, and with his other hand reached for his shoulder to encourage him closer.

"D"accord," he answered thickly. "D'accord, Monsieur. I can show you."

With two fingers, he traced over the perfect contours of his master's torso. He placed worshipful caresses over the hard lines muscle, down towards his navel. His hand snaked beneath the fabric at the vampire's waist. There he was treated with the same hungry adoration.

The boy stroked him with exquisite finesse. A refinement gained from listening to, and remembering his master's instruction. He brought his fingers to his lips, and tasted the salt of him as though it were the nectar of the gods.

"I wanted you long before I dared come to your door." This memory produced a slight tremble in the urchin's voice.

His hand returned, pleasingly wet. Now it was the boy's turn to speak low against his ear.  

"Did you know I had stained my sheets with thoughts of you?"

This memory in particular stirred something in the youth. With one hand he began to undress hastily, agile fingertips moved to loosen the fastening of his shirt and expose the pale skin of his lean chest.

He tugged irritably at the fabric at his waist, insensible to the pain from wounds not fully knit. He pulled material down enough to reveal his sharp hip bones, and there his patience frayed.

His hand withdrew from its work to seek his aroused skin, and pull it free from the painful confines of his clothing. When his rough palm returned, it was deliciously slick from his wet cock.

"That I would listen to you pause sometimes, outside of my room? And I would lay there in the dark, trembling?"

"Afraid you would come to me. More afraid that I so badly wanted you to."

"And I thought I was so clever. That you did not know how I was aching for you."

With the vampire pressed so close against him, it was easy to rock his pelvis up and rut against his hard stomach. And with some coaxing, easier still for him to claim them both with his long fingered hand.

The rhythm of the boy's hand, unfaltering until this point, grew uneven. He could not stop himself from thrusting into the wet tension created by his master's cock and his own hand. He could not cease rolling against him oil-slick, nerves against nerves. His breath grew erratic, his spread thighs trembled at the vampire's side.

"Ah - e-even now, when I am fucking my pet's beautiful mouth,... in my thoughts, I am...h-here with you."

He pressed his lips to the vampire's shoulder, and spoke the next words into his skin.

"I am yours. For as long as I can be."

Tariq savoured the worshipful press of his boy’s hands along the cool skin of his stomach, his chest expanding softly with his steady breath. That breath grew quick as Fabien’s hands fell beneath his waist. He lifted his chin and the boy could see the flex of his throat as he swallowed thickly, his pale hair falling loose down his back. The evening air that whispered chill through the windows was heavy with the scent of rain.

He pulled impatiently at the clothes he had not had the opportunity to finish donning, exposing the lean muscle of his thighs and the dark hair between them. He was already firm, stirring at his boy’s heady words, and the insistent coaxing of his hand had him growing hard in his palm.

The vampire lowered his head as the boy spoke. He regarded him with eyes that grew smoky and bright at this sweet recollection. When he returned his hand, slick from his eager mouth, back to the skin he had roused for him, his lips parted and his breath came as a rough groan.

He held him still by the throat, the flutter of his pulse a delight, but begrudgingly released him as he worked to bare himself. He did not, could not interrupt as he spoke, fierce pleasure at his words heating his skin like marble warmed in the sun. He was nearly panting when the boy thrust against him, and the sound he made was throaty praise both rich and obscene.

This temptation was too great to resist and he leaned forward, half-climbing between Fabien’s shivering thighs to press himself hungrily against him, leaving only just enough space for the boy’s hand to continue stroking them as he trapped his slick cock between their bellies. He was too hot, too eager, and it betrayed how affecting the boy’s words were as he rolled his hips, forcing himself with short thrusts against yielding skin. Fabien could feel the tense of his muscles, that easy serpentine strength, as he fucked himself into his hand, rutting with animal eagerness against his firm, wetted cock.

His mouth was hot and wet when he lowered it to the boy’s neck. His lips trailed along the smooth skin of his throat and, briefly, the swooningly sharp points of his teeth set against him enough to prickle the nerves before he drew away, his breath warm.

The visual the boy painted on the inside of the vampire’s head was potent, and his breath hitched in his throat. His cock twitched and then jerked as he could not prevent himself from coming hard, spattering heat on his boy’s bare stomach with a groan between his teeth.

The vampire swore under his breath, the words gravel in his throat. A thread-fine shiver took his limbs. Though the hot urgency had bled out of its movements he did not disentangle himself from Fabien’s grasp. He placed his palm over the boy’s hand to encourage him to continue, the slick head of his cock providing fresh coaxing to nerves.

“I wanted you so fiercely, it would frighten you to know the depth of it.”

The words were low and rough and hot with arousal. His hand smeared the mess he had made of the boy’s stomach as he pumped his hand around their joined skin.

“I want you so madly it still might.”

He pressed his glistening fingers to the boy’s mouth as though in blessing. The taste of salt wet his lips as the vampire worked mercilessly with his other hand to bring him to the brink and coax him over the edge.

Fabien’s storm dark eyes did not stray from the vampire’s features. In truth, he was helpless to look anywhere else.

At the sound of his groaned breath, the urchin’s heart grew wild in his chest. He squirmed beneath him, and his sharp hips rose to meet the thrusts of his master’s against his wet, swollen skin. He moved slick against him, squeezing their erect skin firm together as his thumb teased and caressed sensitive nerves. He murmured a soft plea as the vampire’s lips brushed his throat, and he wrapped his leg, knee bent over his master’s spine. The boy’s head fell back to grant him the full stretch of his slim, scarred neck.

Fabien was on the precipice of succumbing to the growing pressure between his thighs when his master gave in. He left him painfully wanting, his cock twitching and throbbing against him. The boy’s desperation moved through his thin body in a feverish shiver, and his breath left his throat in a harsh pant. He dissolved into thankful, whimpering relief when he felt his master’s grip tightened across his hand.

The vampire’s fingers were greeted with the boy’s lips parting, opening to him as he dragged the flat of his tongue across his skin. The boy licked and sucked him clean, responding to the taste of him with a groaning relish. It would certainly not take much coaxing for him to open wider, to part his teeth and take the vampire’s fingers deep into the heat of his mouth.

Soon the boy was writhing against him, hips bucking and toes curling against his back. He came beneath him, groaned breath and whining cries muffled against his master’s fingers as he thrust into their joined hands.

He lay twitching beneath him, his chest and glistening wetly. He placed the back of his hand across his brow, and waited to gather his breath.

"P-peut-être mieux que certaines choses ne soient pas connues." He croaked. “For now, at least, I hope.”

The urchin’s mouth brushed against the sleek curve of his master’s shoulder. His grip grew lax, and when the vampire’s hand released him, he withdrew with a careful tenderness. His body lost the last of its tension, and he sank back into a lazy, panting sprawl.

“C'est comme ça que j'aimerais que tu te souviennes de moi.”He said, with a weary smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

The boy made no further comment, but began to disentangle from his shirt. He managed to wriggle his arms free, to peel the cloth from around his sweat moistened back. The autumn gold of his hair fell about his eyes in a tangled sweep as he wiped clean their spent pleasure from his trembling stomach.

The vampire’s fingers pressed deep into the wet heat of Fabien’s mouth and his body was taken by a shiver at the silk of his tongue. His trembling thighs tensed around him. His hips rocked hungrily in time to the boy’s and when his release spilled over, he greedily trapped his cries behind his glistening fingers.

He was panting. Fabien could feel muscle shift against him as he leaned forward to press a kiss to each of his shivering eyelids and then to his lips, licking salt from his teeth with predatory pleasure and teasingly stroking his overstimulated nerves beneath his thumb before releasing him. His eyes were the milky silver of the gibbous moon.

He withdrew, turning away to fall heavily on the bed and allow Fabien to clean himself up, though he would not have long before the warm lion’s sprawl of limbs pulled him close with capable hands, his fingernails strong and clean and the bones solid beneath his flesh. He was still breathing heavy, his bare chest rising as he tucked his boy against him, breathing in the scent of his skin with naked delight.

He was warm as the glow of a topaz now, his boy’s touch having enlivened dead skin and stirred old blood. However, his companion’s words brought him pause. He contemplated him silently before gently reaching to turn his head to face his pale gaze.

“Fabien,” he breathed. The word drifted like a hazy tongue of smoke in the air. “You are right to seek to restrain your wolf. For your sake and theirs. We will go together and find something pretty for their throat.”

He paused, and when he resumed some of the lazy pleasure in his tone had been filed away, revealing a contemplative hush beneath.

“But I fear I have hampered your efforts in constraining you here. I do not wish you to be trapped if you should require anything and I am not here.”

His thumb brushed the side of his mouth. His breathing had quieted and his demeanor was pensive.

“Tu n'es pas mon captif. That is not your place in this house.”

He reverentially stroked his lower lip with the flat of his thumb. Though his tone was low, conversational, there was a thin thread of apprehension glittering at the edges of it.

“Your place is here - do not mistake it. But I want for you to roam at your leisure, should you desire it. Should you need to.”

He leaned forward, hair rustling along the pillow, and pressed his mouth to his lips. It was unlike him, how slowly he kissed him, how gently he savoured the taste of him. His tongue flicked between his parted lips.

“To know you are unbound but will always return to me is sweet. Est ce bien?” he asked, murmuring the question thickly into his mouth.

Fabien put up no resistance to the vampire's grasping hands. He fell to rest beside him heavy-limbed, and laid his cheek on the vampire's chest.

But the boy's quietness pervaded. He did not turn gushing with breathless questions. There was no gasping praise, nor eager trembling hands reaching for him. His body was still, no grinding hips still hungry for attention despite exhaustion.

The urchin lifted his head when prompted, and met the vampire's unseeing eyes. He traced the skin of his ribs with his fingertips as he spoke. A smile twitched at his lips, and he nodded agreeably.

"I would like that, Monsieur." He replied softly, as he drew unspoken words across his skin.

Fabien's feline sharp eyes studied his master's features as he continued. He drank in the sight of him, the way the light struck his skin, the stirring of his throat as he spoke. The boy appeared attentive, but curious at this change in direction.

Suddenly, his hand stilled. He pressed his palm flat against the vampire's chest as his body stiffened. His breath grew short, and a trembling which had begun in his shoulders started to spread.

If his eyes had been dark and troubled before, they grew slowly luminous, like the parting of clouds after a storm.

"T-this is my home. I have not…never had a real-" He replied softly, as though to remind them both. The words were muffled, pressed into his master's lips as he kissed him.

In an instant the youth had broken from him, his breath ragged in his throat.

"You know that I... that I would not want to go, unless I am by your side? You know I-...?" He rasped, his throat tight with emotion.

"B-but you would allow it, you are letting me?"

He sat up sharply, and in the next breath had half clambered on top of him. He straddled the vampire's waist, his arms claiming him with a feral delight. If this was improper, too forward, the boy was helpless to contain himself.

His pulse was hard beneath his ribs as he leaned in to kiss him. The boy's hands moved frenetic and quivering over his arms, his shoulders. He groaned against his tongue, his teeth scraping the vampire's lower lip as he spoke.

"O-oui, Monsieur." He said, with unspeakable joy. "That you could trust me enough, I- you honour me."

The boy's lashes were wet as he pressed more adoring kisses to his mouth, his jaw. This time he sought to taste him, so deeply and hungrily it almost stoked the fire between his legs.

"You honour me." He repeated against his lips.

Tariq’s eyes, sightless and silver as an autumn moon, stayed intently on the boy as he spoke. Some nameless apprehension gathered rigidly in his limbs.

However, as the boy’s joy broke like dawn with his understanding of the vampire’s words, the tension in his body faded to mist and he happily held him as he straddled his waist, his hand on his flank and fingers curling around his slender thigh as he pulled him close. The fine filigree of scars at his neck glinted like spider silk as he sighed a contented breath.

The cool night air the master of the house so enjoyed inviting into his rooms whispered along bare skin, chilling naked flesh. The vampire, in contrast, was warm beneath the boy, though like most of his mimicries of life it had been shamelessly stolen from the companion he embraced against his chest.

“Très bien,” he breathed. There was genuine pleasure in the languorous grey of his eyes as he savoured Fabien’s adoring kisses. His breath was warm against his mouth, his voice low and easy. “Then it is settled. We will go together and find a collar that delights you.”

His hand stroked his boy’s hair. “And we will return and you will stay here, in your home with me, because this is where you belong.”

The hand in his hair tightened, just enough to lift Fabien’s head so he could press his lips to the underside of his jaw.

“And because mon désir pour toi me plaît.”

The boy could feel the electric shiver that moved like the crackle of ozone before a storm through the vampire’s body.

“I must go out tonight.” He did not elaborate, though the playful slide of his lips along the boy’s throat did not leave much room for interpretation. “Despite your efforts at distracting me.”

The words were golden honey in his throat. He did not appear to much mind the distraction.

The vampire released his grasp from his hair, though he did not move to draw aside. His palm cradled the side of the boy’s face and though his body was still heated, his hand was cool as stone.

“Will you keep occupied while I am away?” It was indulgent, as though he could not bear to think of his boy alone in his bed waiting for his return.

Fabien smiled against his master's lips. His feline-sharp eyes were radiant with pleasure, and there was a faint tremor in the thumb that gently caressed the corner of the vampire's dangerous mouth. His skin was still flushed from exertion, still hot in the places where it pressed against his companion chest.

"Oui," he agreed roughly "That is what I want."

The urchin grew still, and the enthusiasm of his affection waned. His expression remained warm, his expressive eyes still soft and lips still parted.

"Oui," he repeated heatedly. "Avec vous."

The vampire's hand in his hair made the boy's breath catch. There was no resistance as he offered the glistening sinew of his throat. Taut muscle twitched beneath his master's lips, and he was greeted with softly groaning approval

"Ah… perhaps then, I did not try hard enough." The boy murmured, his body stirring against him.

He leaned his cheek into the vampire's palm with a soft sigh. His lips brushed across his master's fingers as he nuzzled against his cool skin.

The possessive press of his lean body suggested a reluctance to relinquish him to the night. But he slowly began the process of untangling himself, and returned to his previous place at his master's side.

The cool night air had begun to sink into the youth's bare skin, and he pressed into the vampire with a natural desire to seek warmth despite there being none.

"Of course, Monsieur." He replied softly. "I know how to keep busy."

The boy did not immediately begin to gather his clothes. He was content to recline there, nestled amongst the vampire's sheets, pleasingly languid as well cared for housecat.

The tender spark of a tremble rattled the bones of his chest as Fabien so eagerly bared the taut stretch of his tempting throat to him. Tariq inhaled sharply through his teeth and for a single, dangerous moment, fell still as stone. It was only when the boy stirred against the tension of his pulled hair that the vampire released his grasp, moving to hold him gently by the cheek.

He was reluctant to stir from his boy’s side. His sightless eyes remained on him after he’d pulled away, his hands eager to linger on the luxury of his warm skin.

With a soft sigh he moved to depart the bed they shared. He rolled on top of Fabien, pausing to enjoy his weight pinning him to the bed beneath him. He rested there only briefly, careful to avoid putting pressure on his wounded hip, his palms flat along his abdomen.

“Je sais que tu le fais.” His voice was a hoarse whisper of affection.

Eventually, his feet found the floor and he leisurely resumed his much belated dressing, his limbs loose and his hair flowing in liquid mercury down the smooth plane of his bare back. The cool night air stirred around him as he buttoned and buckled, as though impatient to greet him. He tied his hair back at his nape in a practiced motion, his eyes distant and soft with affection.

Once dressed, he leaned down and tipped the boy’s chin up to press his lips to his.

“Je suis heureux que tu sois heureux,” he breathed against his mouth. “That is all I want.” His tongue flicked on the inside of his lip and the next was a teasing growl. “For now.”

He straightened, austere now in his dark clothes.

“I am going out with Fakhir and Lacrima one last time before they depart,” he said, reaching for his cane. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

He paused before the door. “And Fabien, do take care of yourself. Pour moi.”

Without further farewell he departed through the passage and was gone, leaving the boy alone in the cool dark of his room.