[Title] Nuestro Pasado [Author] jadedsilk (Mara D.) [Series] Castlevania: Curse of Darkness [Pairing] HectorxIssac [Rating] NC17 [Beta] [Spoilers?] Yes. Violence warning. Yaoi warning for later chapters. Spoilers galore. [Chatter] In which Vlad doesn't take life very well, Adrian grows some balls, and Hector and Isaac get it on ^_^ Look, it's eleven PM, it's the best summary the world is gonna get ^_^ ~*~ At dawn, Hector woke before Isaac, a great weight felt as if it were crushing him, and his head hurt. He blinked sticky eyes, wiping his face. He had been crying in his sleep, and sat up. Rain tapped mournfully at the shutters of the room, and the fire had gone out. Hector stood carefully, and padded his way to the door, stepping over Deera and Otto to do so. The servants had brought a tray of lunch and a few more pieces of wood for the fire. They had both slept long into the afternoon. Hector set the now cold tray of food on his desk before picking up the wood, carrying it as silently to the fireplace as he could. Isaac murmured in his sleep and stirred, and Hector froze until the other young man settled again. He used a quick magic spell to start the fire again, and used the poker from beside the fireplace to press the wood further into the coals. Deera stirred and opened a sleepy eye to regard him curiously. Otto snorted and rolled over. When the fire finally caught, Hector slid back into bed next to Isaac, who reflexively welcomed him back with a warm tangling of limbs. That was the one thing Hector appreciated about sharing a bed with the red-head. Even if Hector was cold, Isaac curled close to him. He was needy in his sleep apparently. Hector did something then that he did not usually do then. He carefully slid an arm over Isaac’s side, curling closer himself. And he laid his head on the same pillow as Isaac’s. Watching the crimson strands of hair pool onto the pillow in the low light of the room, he studied that pale face. Those high cheekbones, and full lips a cupids bow in sleep. He looked peaceful, and Hector envied him that peace as much as he admired it. He himself wanted to go back to sleep, but he feared for Adrian, and wished to check up on the young man. For now he would wait for Isaac to wake, and for the fireplace to warm the room enough that Hector would feel comfortable exposing bare skin to the air so that he might get dressed. ~*~ Isaac finally woke as Hector was dressing. The lean red-head sat up and yawned. His eyes were as troubled as Hector’s, and now there was a scowl starting between his crimson eyebrows. “If you are hungry…there is food,” Hector said quietly. Isaac had no change of clothes in Hector’s room, and so he simply slid back into his clothing from last night, tugging his boots on carefully. “You need to bandage your throat,” Isaac said, as though Hector had not even made the offer. Moving to Hector’s side. Hector flinched for a moment as Isaac’s bare hands reached out, but as sleep warmed fingertips touched the side of his neck, he stilled. Isaac stroked the bite marks, and his hand came away a watery crimson. “Your wounds are seeping,” he murmured. Hector took an unsteady breath. Going to the infirmary meant going to see a room Lisa had all but just left. He knew he would even smell her perfume there…and he was not certain he could face that right now. He gave Isaac a guarded look, one heavily weighted down by guilt and the pain gnawing just under his ribs that felt like he had swallowed broken glass. “Isaac…I…cannot…” he whispered lowly, shaking his head as he thought about it again. As he backed away, away from the fireplace, away from Isaac, tried to back away from the pain that he could not name of comprehend that was clawing at his throat, at his chest. Isaac followed him backwards, until he had bumped into the door and could go no further. Until the red-head had warm arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close to the rough fabric of white undershirt. “You are such a woman Hector,” Isaac murmured, but even his voice sounded rough. So what if he was weak? Perhaps he was not as strong as Isaac, but this…Lisa’s death felt like it had flattened all that Hector knew and understood. He had just found a place, a way of life, had been finding out who he was. And now he had nothing. All the light and warmth had gone out in the castle. Now there was simply a mournful and cold dread, a sensation of creeping darkness. Once there had been a balance, now there was nothing but black. Even the roses in the garden knew it. Normally they would at least be putting on leaves. They remained barren. Even the ravens avoided the courtyard’s garden. The darkness was spreading. Isaac offered him no words of comfort. What comfort was there for this?! But while he was disparaging of Hector’s pain, his arms said that they understood. The chest he rested his cheek against was rising and falling a bit too fast. Grief. ~*~ It was when Deera had finally understood that Lisa was missing, that Hector’s Id’s began to mourn. Isaac was bandaging Hector’s throat in the infirmary when the wailing began. Lisa had befriended all of the Id’s, fearlessly feeding them tidbits from the table, or simply stroking them if their masters were too busy to spend the time. Isaac had summoned several new friends recently as well, and they had all taken up the cry. They were innocent beings, and they had sensed the grief and pain, but the fact that she was /gone/ had not registered until time had passed and they had not caught sight of her. Isaac’s gaze met Hector’s for a moment, and Hector heaved a sigh. “Should I send them away until they quiet?” Hector asked softly, noticing that a few of the servants that were cleaning in the halls looked distinctly uneasy. “If I had my way…I would set them upon the village!” Isaac said lowly, eyes narrowed dangerously with the anger he soaked his grief in. Hector quailed…thinking about Adrian’s words. As much as he hated those who had killed his mother, as much as he despised the ignorant people that had now killed Lisa, he could not condone more murder. All life was precious, and Adrian was right when he said he saw the face of his mother in every frightened woman that had gathered to scream for the Lord’s wife’s demise. “They are just foolish, and human. The Lady was right…I can no longer wish them death than I might you, or Adrian, or The Lord.” “I am not so forgiving as you. Kill all humans? No. Kill those that are guilty, those that murdered The Lady? Certainly, yes.” “Who are you to play god Isaac?!” “I am a Forgemaster,” Isaac said lowly. “I am my own god.” “You don’t really believe that…do you?” Hector asked quietly. Isaac smiled, a curling of the corners of his lips just before he shook his head, and walked away. ~*~ Wherever Isaac had gone, Hector did not know, but by the time he had collected himself and found a way to stand under the pressure of hopelessness crushing down on him, that he had found a way to accept that Lisa was not coming back to this room, ever, nightfall was coming. Still the Id’s howled, restless. Isaac’s with rage, and Hector’s with confusion and grief. They stalked the castle, cried at doors and windows, and seethed ill temperedly from one dark corner to another. There was little to be done to comfort them. Hector still had not seen Adrian, and so tugging the bandage Isaac had given him more comfortably into place, he set out to find his friend. He found him in his rooms, staring out his window into the cheerless nightfall, into the heavy and murky depths of the moat and the fog that was rolling in. “Adrian,” Hector called softly. The young man jumped and whirled around, blade drawn. “’Tis only me,” Hector pleaded softly, holding his hands up defenselessly. Adrian regarded him then for a moment, as if the words were taking time to register, as if he were not sure the fact of /who he was/ had registered. “Hector…”Adrian began before numbly and a bit sheepishly sheathing his blade. “Are you well?” Hector asked, carefully making his way to his friend’s side. Adrian gave him a wounded look, gnawing on his bottom lip with a fang. The room stank of blood, and there were splatters of it on the walls, Hector noted as his eyes adjusted. “I fear for you! He is practically mad with his rage,” Adrian said lowly. “He beat me last night, claiming it was my doing…” Adrian went back to staring out the window for a moment. Hector touched a hand to Adrian’s forearm, and watched his best friend flinch. “You are in pain still…he must have…his rage must have been…” “Formidable,” Adrian said lowly. “He beat you bloody?” “He shredded me in his rage, before he fell to his knees beside me, before he apologized and fed me his blood to heal my wounds. This room will need…to be cleaned.” Adrian said lowly. “Adrian…will he harm you further?!” Hector whispered, fear making his hands tremble. “I will help you flee…surely there is someplace you can go other than here…” “He would find me. He will find me. He no longer wants to hurt me…but you…you and Isaac are but human… If his rage did not discriminate for me, I fear for you,” Adrian said lowly. ~*~ The summons came from a servant as the moon rose, and Adrian took it upon himself to accompany Hector to his father’s side. When they arrived at the Lord’s chambers, they both found Isaac was already kneeling, unmoving and very subservient, if not trembling just slightly. “Hector…good of you to join us…Adrian, I did not call for you. You may go,” He ordered. The Lord was even paler than normal, sitting in a high backed chair that greatly resembled a throne, on the arms of which he drummed his claws impatiently. As Hector knelt beside Isaac and slightly to his left out of deference, Adrian bowed. “My Lord…if it involves my mother, than it involves me,” Adrian addressed the floor. “Adrian, you should leave,” The Lord said, a twinge of rage drenched in sorrow made his tone biting. An order, not a suggestion. Adrian backed out of the room then, with a glare for his father, but Hector had a feeling he was waiting out in the hall, listening at the door. After Adrian had shut the doors to The Lord’s chamber, there was a moment of dangerous silence, a storm building. “The fact that you have failed me so greatly is not the only problem I am faced with,” The vampire lord said as he stood, and began to pace back and forth in a manner that was both lethal and stately. Hector and Isaac shared a glance out of the corners of their eyes, but they did not lift their heads. “The question now, is also whether you are worth placing trust in…the nature of your people is that of treachery and dishonesty,” Hector and Isaac still wisely said nothing. The palms of Hector’s hands were already sweat damp with terror, wetting the stone beneath his hands into an imprint of his palms and fingers. “Hector!” the Lord called sharply. “My lord,” Hector responded breathily. “Stand and face me!” the Lord demanded. Hector stood unsteadily, his back straight, his shoulders back. “If you must kill me for my failure My Lord, I will understand. Let no blame lie with Isaac, for he is superior to me and deserves to remain within your gracious services.” Hector said lowly. “I should kill you both! Could you not hear my wife’s cries? Why did you not send your Devils with her to protect her, do you not defend my castle while I rest during the day?!” “I have no excuses my lord,” Hector said, staring at the floor. She had refused their protection, she had taken only Adrian, and the castle walls were much too thick to hear anyone screaming at such a distance. But to make an excuse would mean to bear the wrath of The Lord. When The Lord struck him, the blow was to his jaw. His knees collapsed out from under him, but he still kept himself in front of Isaac. If The Lord would expend his rage upon Hector, perhaps Isaac might at least gain some leniency. The second blow was a kick to the ribs. Hector gasped for air, but he refused to cry out as his arms gave out and he fell face down onto the floor. The blows had been brutal on a human frame, a vampires strength easily that of twenty men. He was prepared to die like a man, die for his mistakes. She had died, he would make restitution. A life for a life. He was pathetic and served no purpose. What he had not counted on was Isaac. Isaac was moving before the second blow landed. He was standing toe to toe with The Lord, between Hector and danger. “Would The Lady approve of your violence?!” Isaac cried. “We warned her time and again to take precautions, to travel with both of us as well as your son, we tried to send our beasts with her, we tried to talk her out of the village all together and she would have none of it!” The Lord was so stunned that he simply had nothing to say. He took a step back away from Isaac’s vehemence in surprise. “And we could not hear her cries! If you My Lord could not, how could we?! Will you hate us all for the sins of a few? Will you hate your son because he is part human?! Your wife was human!” Isaac raged. Apparently, that was the last straw. Hector tried to warn Isaac, to tell him to be silent, to simply get on his knees and accept whatever The Lord wished to dole out as punishment, but he had no breath in his lungs. The Lord struck Isaac open handed, and it was not a strike as it had been for him. It was with claws. The slash ended in a fine spray of blood across Hector’s face. Isaac landed beside him, sprawled on his hip, a set of fine claw marks across his face, livid where the blow had ended; crimson pouring down his jaw. Apparently, that was enough for Adrian who kicked the doors open, storming back into the room. “I thought I told you to leave,” The Lord growled, voice low. Adrian stalked up to his father, and shoved him. Pushing him back away from Hector and Isaac. This lead to two of the most frightening glowers between father and son that Hector had ever witnessed. “Am I your son or am I your servant? Have I not always listened to you with the utmost respect? And yet you speak to me in such ways!” The Lord had a moment when he appeared abashed. “You are my son,” “Then /respect/ me as your son, as I /respect/ you! As mother /respected/ humans. As Hector and Isaac respected you until you took it upon yourself to punish them for a crime they did not commit! They /mourn/ just as you do! Do you not hear their devil’s crying?! A devil can feel no further than its Master! If you must harm others to serve your justice, then hunt only those responsible for the crimes!” Oh no. Hector’s breath caught in his throat. He would die; his Lord could not ask this of him. Adrian was trying to save them, but what good was it to ask this of a Forgemaster who abhorred violence?! “Do not take such a tone with me!” The Lord snarled back, though it was obvious from his posture now that Adrian had gotten through. “Do not take such a tone with /me/!” Adrian shot back, eyes narrowed. “You are not the only person to hurt in this castle! Your servants need reassurance, they are frightened. /I/ need your reassurance, because a future as bleak as the one you present me with leaves me in quandary! Do you disrespect Mother so much that you would abuse those she loved? That you would even go so far as to kill those within the town that are innocent?! Do you hate me as well?!” “Adrian…I…” The lord murmured, shoulders slumped. The man surveyed the room, surveyed Hector who was curled on the floor, trembling around ribs that ached mercilessly, and Isaac, who was sprawled beside him, eyes emotionless and angry, blood running down the side of his face. His gaze finally came back to his son’s before it hardened. “Hector… Isaac…you are to follow Adrian into the village. All those present at the death of my wife, those whom orchestrated, and those who stood by and watched. They are to be killed for their transgressions. After this, I will speak no more of this regrettable incident.” Adrian’s brow wrinkled in rage, but he met his father’s eyes with disapproval. “Adrian, I cannot let this go unpunished. A Lord who lets the murder of his woman slide is no Lord at all, and not worthy of respect…” “Mother never sought vengeance, and I respected her,” was Adrian’s rejoinder. “This is different Adrian, I am /respecting/ you enough to do as you request, are you unhappy with my leniency still?” The words were dangerous, and everyone in the room knew it. Adrian had pushed as far as he could. “As my Lord wishes.” Adrian said lowly, his eyes holding more deeply checked rage than Hector had ever seen in any being before. The Lord turned on his two Forgemasters then. “You are under Adrian’s command; do not return without the blood of guilty on your hands or I will slaughter you myself!” “Yes My Lord.” Hector wheezed. “As My Lord wishes,” Isaac said lowly, getting unsteadily to his feet and helping Hector to his. ~*~ Hector blotted at Isaac’s clawed cheek with an herb that would slow the bleeding and prevent infection while Adrian checked the bandages over Hector’s ribs before tightening down the heavy boiled leather armor, fastening, checking and rechecking chains. “I am sorry,” Adrian said lowly. “I have no choice any longer.” “‘Tis not your fault,” Hector said breathily, feeling his palms sweat. If this was what his Lord required of him, than he would do so. Not out of fear of death, but out of loyalty. Justice could be served in this situation. His Lord was much older than himself, much wiser. He did have a point. Hector did not like violence or death, but perhaps if someone had punished the men and women who had killed his own mother, then those men and women would not go on to repeat the crime, to kill another innocent. His body ached, his jaw ached. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and cry. But that was not an option. He had never fought anyone with the intent of killing them, and he had never ordered one of his Id’s to kill. Deera however, would not be a problem. She was already bristling, the large scales along her neck standing up aggressively. Alik was but a call away, and so was one of his mage ID’s. A ghostly little creature that was learning to cast lightning spells. Isaac was in his armor now as well, making adjustments here and there, but instead of looking terrified like Hector was, he looked grim, perhaps even a bit smug. Otto was sitting by the window, rumbling lowly at having to wait, obviously already craving the taste of blood. “I will pick out the men and women I remember, kill only those I tell you to,” Adrian said, his voice sounding strangely shaky. “Adrian.” Hector said softly. “I bear your memories. I will go without you, you need not do this thing.” He felt slightly ill just knowing what he had to do. Adrian was far gentler, even than himself. He would not ask this of his friend. “No Hector, I will bear this sin with you both, it shall be as My Lord asks,” “There is no sin in justice,” Isaac said, a touch of a smug smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “Did not the god of the old testament smite the enemies of his people?” the look in Isaac’s eyes as he said that would stay with Hector for a very long time, and later, would even return to haunt him, though he did not know it yet. “Isaac, we are not gods!” Hector cried lowly. “If we are not…than we are oddly close, don’t you think?” Isaac asked as he sauntered over to pet the top of Otto’s head soothingly. ~*~ Hector was too well trained to feel pain or horror. He never felt the icy rain, or the sickly warm splatter of blood that followed the arc of his sword. They were not man, woman or child, they were simply the enemy and he simply had to fight them. Never mind the alien jerk of blade through flesh and bone, so different from the normal answering jar of steel on steel. Never mind Deera at his side, ears laid back, jaws crushing bone and tearing flesh. There were no sounds that were relevant but for the hum of Isaac’s sword, close to Hector’s ear, Adrian’s cries that were like thunder over the rain. None of the other sounds mattered. The cries of children, the wails of terrified women, the shouts of enraged men. There was nothing to see but the mud beneath his feet churned up with crimson, flickering in the torchlight while the rain fell, heavy thick drops. The sky itself was crying. Isaac was wrong. This was not justice, this was slaughter! Hector could not feel the tears running down his cheeks, could not feel his hands. All there was was what he had to do. And this was it. He fought until Adrian stilled, blade at his side and called a halt. He fought until he could feel the press of Isaac’s armor against his back. Until Adrian told him to call back his Devils. And he did so. He hardly remembered the walk back from the village, or the times he stopped to be sick, and Isaac held his hair back. He just kept telling himself this was a nightmare. Even as the servants unbuckled his armor, took his sodden clothes and dirty blade from him and lead him to his bathroom where he was warmed, bathed, dressed in nightclothes. He felt nothing as a servant woman tended his wounds, as she rebound his ribs and helped him into bed. He felt nothing when he slid into the exhausted silence behind his eyelids. ~*~ When he woke again, he could hardly move. His whole body ached from head to toe. At some point, the rain had stopped in the night, and now the sun was shining in under the shutters. He wasn’t sure what had woken him, mainly because he was so exhausted he could hardly pick his head up from the pillow, but it became evident after a moment. Someone knocking. Why was someone knocking on his door? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t honestly care. He had a brief flash of the night before, and he vaguely recalled wanting to believe it was a nightmare. A nightmare that was real, he began to realize as he noticed little details from last night. The spare bandages on the desk, a tin of salve for his throat, for the gash he had acquired during the…the…the… The massacre. He sat up slowly, moaning, the knocking continuing. “Hector? Would you like breakfast?!” “No Isaac,” Hector said. “I am sleeping. Go away.” “If you’re talking to me, you’re obviously not sleeping.” Isaac pointed out the clear flaw in Hector’s logic. “I /want/ to be sleeping, and I transmuted the door shut. Go away.” “Hector, you cannot sulk in there all day about a few dead murderers.” “Watch me.” Hector said lowly just before he crawled back into his bed backwards, burying his head under the quilts. Mercifully, he was tired enough to sleep through the next half hour of incessant knocking and Isaac’s insults. ~*~ When he woke again, the sun had gone down, and Deera was scratching at his door while someone else knocked. “Hector, won’t you come join us for supper?” called a soft voice. “Go away Adrian.” Hector said, scowling at the door like it was the cause of all his problems. Ignoring the knocking and pleading, he took a moment to get up and relieve himself in the bathroom before going directly back under the blankets, retreating to the sanctuary of sleep. He didn’t have to feel anything like this. ~*~ When he woke again, it was dawn, and someone was knocking again. “Hector, will you please come down to breakfast?” Isaac called through the door. Something did not add up. Isaac never said please. Hector’s tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and the ache in his ribs and face was terrible. He sat up slowly, again burying his face in his hands. There was no hope, no future, no nothing. He was hollow and aching and nauseous and he was so cold he could not stop his teeth from chattering. The fire had died a long time ago, and now it was so frigid in his room that he could see his breath. The quiet of his space was closing in, and suddenly it was more a tomb than it was a sanctuary. “Hector…please?” Isaac called, and he heard the sound of his fellow Forgemaster’s forehead impacting the wood of the door in frustration. It was strangely moving. Isaac sounded sincerely concerned and frustrated, and Hector wasn’t sure what to make of that fact. He wasn’t sure he cared, but on the other hand… He stood, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea, unsteadily, he made his way to the door where he leaned against it, resting his forehead against the wood. He could feel it even then, the reassuring and warm tingle against his forehead, against his fingertips. Isaac’s power. Like sunlight, it touched him, even where he shivered. “Let me in Hector,” Isaac asked softly. Hector’s angry and bitter resolve to sleep until he died of starvation evaporated quickly. It took only a few quick words and a touch of Hector’s power to break the seal holding the door. When it opened inwards, Hector clung to the knob for balance and Deera rushed in, followed by a worried looking Isaac. “It’s positively freezing in here Hector!” Isaac took one look at Hector, and immediately slid an arm around his waist. Hector glanced up at the gashes on Isaac’s face, healed over into dark scabs, Isaac was leaning closer and closer until his lips brushed Hector’s once in a very tender gesture of comfort. Hector would normally have fussed at such a gesture from Isaac, but right now it just warmed something deep inside of him that desperately need it. “Let’s start a fire.” Isaac said, helping Hector to the edge of the bed. Deera was already fire warmed (Probably from napping in the great hall, as she was known to do from time to time.) and hopped up on the bed behind Hector, muzzling against him as though inspecting him for injuries before she spread her wings, tucking him to her side in a blanket of warmth. Hector moaned, and she nibbled at his fingertips in sympathy. (He felt like he deserved some sympathy, his entire body hurt.) When he looked up, Isaac had brought wood in from the hall and was starting a fire, and Adrian appeared in the doorway with a tray. “Oh good! We don’t have to tie you down and force feed you.” Adrian said with a sweet smile. Great. They were teaming up on him now. ~*~ When Adrian left about mid afternoon, taking Deera with him; Hector was lounging against Isaac’s shoulder near the fireplace, freshly fed and bathed, and having drunk several glasses of water. His hair was dry from the fire now, and he was in a daze. “You are sore?” Isaac asked as he moved to stand, noticed Hector’s wince when he moved, dislodging the white haired boy. “A bit, I suppose. Aren’t you?” Hector asked. “Some…” Isaac said lowly as he turned to leave. Isaac’s steps were heavy, resigned as usual, but it was as if he didn’t want to wait this time for Hector to shoo him from the room as he almost always did after they had sat too closely together for a time. Something strange happened in that moment, perhaps because nightfall was coming, perhaps because the pain made him want to cry out in agony and frustration, the pain inside of himself where there was no wound. Whatever reason there was though, Hector reached out, and caught the hem of Isaac’s tunic. He felt like it was another person making the gesture, like he was floating when he found himself pleading to his fellow Forgemaster. “Don’t leave me.” He whispered softly. Isaac froze, blue eyes briefly surprised before they warmed with an emotion dangerously close to affection. It was a bit hungry around the edges too, and Hector wondered what it was that he had just done. He had asked for something, knowing exactly what he had asked for, and at the same time, he had no idea. Isaac came to squat next to Hector for a moment, leaning forward to capture Hector’s chin in those calloused hands, hands that were always warm. He leaned forward, his lips skating across Hector’s cheek before they made their way to the shell of his ear. “Take off your shirt; there is some oil for sore muscles with the medicines Adrian brought to clean your wounds. Let me rub some onto your shoulders,” Isaac whispered into Hector’s ear, the words warm against the skin, making the hair along the nape of Hector’s neck stand on end. Hector didn’t believe for a moment that there was not some sort of ulterior motive for Isaac to be trying to get him out of his shirt. He didn’t really care as long as that touch was on his skin, keeping him here, now, not letting him think or remember. Not letting him get cold again, cold like he had been. Something under his ribs was making him swallow hard, something that felt like bumblebees trapped in a jar, banging around. And every time one of the imaginary creatures brushed against him, a tingling and copper bright sensation burst up his spine. He was nervous and…there was something that Isaac had that Hector needed. He just did not know what that was. He also knew that Isaac knew, he could tell by watching the young man move, even to make his way to the table where the medicine and bandages lay. “Okay.” Hector said weakly, studying the flames in the fireplace, almost afraid to look at Isaac because…because he was so beautiful, and every glance made him hungry to feel those lips against his own, against his ear again. Hungry to feel the same sensations that he had felt when those full lips had been wrapped around his member, teasing, tasting. Isaac glided back to him, and Hector could not take his eyes from him. As those long and delicate fingers unbuttoned his sleep shirt, letting the fabric fall away. At first it was the brush of hands, warm, sleek, up and down the bruises on Hector’s back and ribs. A moment later there was the sensation of cold oil. Hector hissed and arched away, the feeling both much too cool and soothing against the bruises. Isaac’s hands were moving against his skin, while the bottle heated on the hearth. The oil warmed quickly under that touch, a touch that was surprisingly expert. Badly abused muscles began to unwind, and Isaac’s hands began to slide sensuously over Hector’s back instead of jerking to hasty stops over knots and tense spots. The strange sensation was building low in Hector’s stomach again, and it was far too late to deny that he was hard. A few moments later, one of Isaac’s hands came away from Hector’s back to brush a few curls of dry hair aside from the nape of his neck. Isaac’s warm lips were there then, a silky brush of heat and wet as his tongue darted out. That hand went back to gliding, and Hector moaned softly, a chill running up and down his spine. “Do you want me?” Isaac asked softly, his hands deftly sliding from Hector’s back, down to his sides and then around to his stomach, fingers playing along the highly defined muscles there. Hector gasped, and before he could stop himself was hissing a breathless “yes,” through grit teeth. Isaac was closer to him then, and strong hands were turning him to face him, tugging him into the red-head’s lap, and Hector went without complaint, settling into his companions thighs, feeling an answering hardness against his. “So beautiful.” Isaac murmured as fisted his oil slick hands gently into Hector’s hair, pulling Hector’s mouth to his. Hector let the other man do so, pulling a drawn out whimper from him as that warm tongue slid into his mouth. Isaac was as usual, a delicious taste of human nothing, a heat that spiraled into a tight knot at the base of his spine, his Forgemasters power crawling across the bridge of Hector’s nose like the tickle of ant’s feet. When he shyly answered the touch of Isaac’s tongue with his own, he was rewarded with a roll of Isaac’s hips that pressed them together through the fabric of their breeches. A tear fell from the corner of Hector’s eye, and when they broke apart for air, Isaac was supporting the back of Hector’s neck, nibbling under his jaw until Hector yielded with a shaky sigh and tilted his head back. “I’m so cold.” Hector whispered. “Take it away…Isaac, I need to be warm…” Hector murmured pleadingly. The reply was wordless, and it came as a rush of Isaac’s power over Hector’s skin along with a nibble to the lobe of his ear, brushing silky crimson up against his jaw. Isaac’s hands were sliding lower as Hector reached up, clinging to those broad and tattooed shoulders…the button of his sleep pants came away, and Isaac was laying him down carefully, cradling him in strong arms, and laying him back onto his back on the rug…working the fabric of Hector’s pants off carefully. Hector studied Isaac as he did so, watching the fire turn that hair that spectacular shade of autumn leaves, watched it play across that olive skin and the soft henna brown of tattoos, almost black in the shadows and nearly crimson in the light. Hector could not help it when he reached up, his fingertips longing to touch the harsh angles and the smooth curves that made up Isaac’s bare chest. “You have never taken a lover before, have you?” Isaac asked softly, reaching down to capture Hector’s hand, and then leaned forward, placing it on his chest, right over his heart. Hector shook his head ‘no’ minutely. “The important thing,” Isaac said lowly. “is to relax.” He slid Hector’s hand across his chest, helping those fingers trace the spot of soft skin down his sternum, noticing the way his younger lover shuddered and closed his eyes for control. “Just one moment.” Isaac said, pulling away and standing so that he could quickly remove his tunic, pants and boots. Hector’s eyes followed him even then, and watched the ripple of muscle, watched the play of shadow and the swaying and familiar motions of disrobing that displayed Isaac’s need to Hector, long and straight, nestled in a bed of curls as crimson as the hair on his head. When Isaac was through, Hector held his hand out to him again from where he was reclining on the rug. They had not touched in far too long. He was completely naked, completely exposed, and he wanted Isaac there to cover him, to hold him close, to ease the tears still falling slowly. He did not know what was going to happen, or how it would feel, but he didn’t care. The part of him that had objected to the fact that Isaac was male had obviously broken, because he liked what he saw more than there were words for. Isaac was confident, sinewy and broad and completely beautiful. Hector couldn’t help but feel more than a little unworthy of the attentions of someone like Isaac, but apparently, the red-head had no reservations about Hector’s appearance. Isaac knelt over Hector’s calves, and then crawled upwards, his lean and tattooed body like a cats, moving like it had joints in places it shouldn’t, and Hector’s mouth went dry as he found himself drowning in blue and crimson, as Isaac moved up over him, capturing his mouth while bending his elbows, lowering their hips together, gliding their chests in a skate aided by the oil left from Isaac’s fingers earlier. Hector gasped into the sensation. Isaac was as hard as he was, and he could feel it where he was sliding against him, the skin there was like warm silk. Hector cried out lowly, trembling hands coming up to hungrily stroke Isaac’s back. “You are mine…” Isaac murmured as he repeated the motion. “And I will be good to you.” He breathed, creating a slow motion that Hector’s body reflexively began to match. “Good to me?” Hector whispered just before full lips met his in a damp caress. “Good to you.” Isaac whispered as he shifted his weight onto one arm. The finger of his free hand caressing a nipple. Hector cried out, a long drown out sound of delight. “I will be so careful…my Hector…you are like glass, so cool and delicate…I would never want to break you.” Isaac whispered as his hand slid lower and lower, trailing down Hector’s side until it traced the groove between the muscle just below need and hip. Hector’s response was to grunt and bite his lip, arching upwards into the touch. Isaac just smiled and laughed; a sound that was so deeply sexual that it made every hair on Hector’s body stand on end. “Isaac!” Hector gasped, shaking as that need met his again and again, as that oil slicked hand formed a tunnel, a tunnel that both of their hard needs slipped into as Isaac stilled their rocking, picking the motion up with his hand instead. “I c…I c…” “Then come for me.” Isaac purred, leaning forward to nibble down the edge of Hector’s ear. When he blew on the damp lobe was when Hector came with a longing cry, tears streaking his face as he shivered, his eyes rolled back in his head. “I promised I would make you warm…Hector,” Isaac tasted Hector’s name like it was something sweet, something to be savored. “I am not done with you yet,” he murmured. As he brought his hand up to his mouth, licking the wetness from his hand that Hector had left. Hector had opened his eyes just in time to see Isaac do it. “Isaac?” Hector whimpered. “Hush…relax…” Isaac whispered as he reached for the bottle of oil, warmed by the fireplace. Hector was shuddering for air, his back still arched, eyes wide. “You didn’t…you didn’t get to…” “I will, we are not finished yet,” Isaac slid out of Hector’s arms, slid down until he was even with Hector’s still partially hard need and the wetness that covered his lover’s stomach. Hector watched Isaac, eyes confused and bleary with his release, watched as that tongue came to lap at his stomach, cleaning away the sticky wetness he had left. “Ah god!” Hector gasped, his head thumping back against the rug as he struggled for control. A heavily oiled finger was sliding down his sack, sliding down further and further until it caressed someplace it shouldn’t have, and Hector sat halfway up with a gasp. “Calm down,” Isaac purred. “This won’t hurt,” He whispered as he stroked his forefinger back and forth against Hector’s tight opening. What the hell did Isaac think he was doing!? The sensation was not bad though, and as he closed his eyes and lowered himself back to the floor, he let out a sighing breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. What did he know about this sort of activity between men? Very little. He understood now though, rather clearly, where things were probably going to go. Had he known what he was getting in to, he might have objected. But now, like this? He could not really say no. Isaac took him into his mouth just as he slipped his first finger in just up to the knuckle, and Hector grunted in objection, trying to squirm away. Isaac held him fast with his mouth and a reassuring hand at his hip. What was he doing?! The sensation was strange, invasive…it did not hurt, but he wasn’t sure he liked it! When a second finger slipped inside, Hector cried out in shock. It was a stretch, and it was uncomfortable. Again he tried to squirm away, but mouth and curled fingers kept him in place, writhing, but in place. “I can’t make this feel good unless you relax Hector.” Isaac finally said, coming up off Hector’s need. Hector was ashamed to say, that with the redheads fingers where there were, and that mouth on his need? He was completely hard again. He would have panicked and run, but he was held captive by those intent blue eyes, making contact with him. “You have to let me inside, to let me make you warm,” Isaac purred. And Hector had to fight down the panic, but Isaac was nuzzling at his stomach, nipping at Hector’s hip bones, and Hector managed to ease a bit, remembering the sensation of that mouth on him, thought about that silky need touching his, sliding against it. It made him even harder, and it gave Isaac the leeway he needed to slip his fingers deeper. When he did so, it hurt sharply, and Hector half sat up, as he did so, Isaac did something with his fingers, and there was a lance of pleasure up his spine so astonishing that he actually reflexively arched back, thrusting back into Isaac’s hand. Those fingers began to slide in and out of him, sleek and wet, stretching, caressing, and always touching that spot inside of him, and Hector understood. Only uncomfortable at first…and then pleasure… “Isaac!” Hector gasped, whimpering as he began to unintentionally move back into the gesture with little thrusts of his hips. “I am here…beautiful Hector.” Isaac whispered as he sat up changing positions again, and withdrawing his fingers. Hector actually grunted in disapproval, and Isaac gave him an easy smile, upending the bottle over his need. Hector watched that oil twine around the shaft of Isaac’s twitching shaft in the light of the fire and understood. Isaac was going to slide inside him now, not with his fingers but with… “Isaac…I don’t know if I can…” “Hush.” Isaac soothed as he moved to his knees on the rug, as he coaxed Hector’s legs up onto his shoulders. “Isaac, I can’t…I can’t…” Hector was panicking, his stomach was in a tight knot of fear, but before he could object to the fact that he was open, bare before Isaac, there was pressure at his opening again, and a strong hand was at his hip. The invasion was quick, but not too fast. A long slow motion that left him feeling like he was being torn in half. When the pain abated enough that he could draw breath, he reflexively clenched down, sitting up and trying to push Isaac away, or at least, that had been the intention. But Isaac let his legs slide from his shoulders, sat back, and pulled Hector to him and into his lap. And Hector found himself shuddering in pain and with his face buried in the hollow of Isaac’s shoulder, unresisting. Isaac was throbbing inside him, hot, stinging and burning, a pressure that made him want to move away, and at the same time be so much closer. Isaac was warm, sleek, close to him and filling him. Making him warm inside. It was a strange unity, one that he did not want to pull away from anymore. Warmth was overtaking him, making him shake and shiver, making him curl closer into those understanding arms, into the strong hands that massaged at his back. Isaac nuzzled into the hair next to Hector’s ear, whispering things that made Hector’s heart race. “Breathe lover.” Isaac whispered. “Just breathe…I will be still until the pain eases.” And soon enough it did, and Isaac’s hands were on his hips, guiding him slowly, upwards. Hector winced, objecting and feeling a bit of discomfort as Isaac left him. He felt cold again, empty, but then Isaac was pressing him back down, sliding into him again, spreading and filling him, all he could do was cry out harshly at the ache. “Move for me lover...move for me Hector,” Isaac whispered. And Hector obeyed because his body knew the motions, and Isaac was rocking against him. While there was little pleasure, there was a feeling of fullness, a feeling of warm within cold, ache within nothing, and the caress of balance. Fire was twining with ice, there was also the comfort of those broad shoulders to lean on, and those strong thighs to brace against with his own. He moved because it was life. He moved because he needed this completion, this tight pain, and as he began to move more surely, finding a way to twist his hips that made Isaac gasp and hum with pleasure, he found that place inside of himself again. Soon he was crying out lowly with each thrust, sweat running down his back and shoulders, dripping from the ends of his hair as he rode Isaac, until he made wild and hungry eye contact with satisfied and desperate blue. He rode until he could barely see, until the base of his spine was one knot of agony, and all the pain in his tired body joined to make a sensation that was wild and hot, that was purely Isaac inside of him, twining with him, holding him close and murmuring his name. And when Isaac jerked, burying himself impossibly deep to the point of pleasant pain, and spilled out inside of Hector, Hector could do nothing but follow, crushing down tightly around his lover, his back arching as he wrung a cry from Isaac, a vulnerable and completed sound. When he could open his eyes again, when he could see and hear, He was lying on Isaac’s chest, and something hot and thick was running down the back of his legs. Hector sobbed halfheartedly then, overwhelmed beyond reason. There was only the tangle of Isaac’s legs, the pounding of two hearts so close together, and the memories in his head. Blood and death and this…this screaming phoenix spilling life inside of him. Isaac, his phoenix. His lover. Hector sobbed, and Isaac cooed soothingly, sliding them into bed, putting Hector’s sleep shirt under his hips to keep the sheets from being ruined as he pulled his lover close and rocked him. Hector stared up at Isaac, stunned, frightened, empty and overflowing with feeling at the same time. And Isaac simply talked to him, burying them under Hector’s quilts, nuzzling and soothing until Hector gave in to exhausted hiccups, until Hector found his eyes closing against his will and his head dropping to the pillow under Isaac’s chin. ~*~ Next Chapter: ~*~