[Title] Nuestro Pasado
[Author] jadedsilk (Mara D.)
[Series] Castlevania: Curse of Darkness
[Pairing] HectorxIssac (Not yet, but it will be.)
[Rating] NC17
[Beta] Not Really
[Spoilers?] Yes. Violence warning. Yaoi warning for later chapters. Spoilers galore.
[Chatter] The past, from Hector’s POV. Okay benigirl yubberducky, give this a onceover and tell me what you think ^_^



~*~

He woke to someone’s hot breath washing across the hollow of his throat. He was cold, and the warmth felt good. The room was freezing, obviously, the fire had died.

He opened his eyes to Isaac’s bare chest, and blinked.

He glanced upward a bit nervously. Something was different and he was too sleep scrambled to pay it much mind. He reached out, a gentle hand tracing the tattoo on a collar bone, and was rewarded with something that sounded suspiciously like a sleepy giggle. Isaac was sleeping peacefully still though, lips turned up in the corners in a tiny and contented smile. An expression that seldom graced that beautiful face.

Every inch of Isaac was perfect…except for…except for…there were scabs there on that cheek…from when…oh. He traced trembling fingers across them, his satisfaction with life fading in that brief moment. The Lord…the massacre. Last night, that hot body moving along his, moving inside of him. The tears dry and stiff on his face.

Oh.

Oh /god/ no.

He sat up quickly, dislodging Isaac who whined in protest before curling away towards the wall in unconscious distress for the sudden movement.

Hector just as quickly laid back down as fiery pain lanced from his ass to his shoulders and back again, and his legs cramped up unhelpfully. He found himself staring dazedly at Isaac’s back, the arch of those lean hips and the width of still broadening shoulders, all covered in those beautiful brown tattoos, the color of warm henna that was so pleasing against that olive skin.

It was better to think about that then the pain. The pain of sore ribs, aching muscles, and his legs and back cramping…part of him wanted to deny what they had done last night, but he knew he could not…they had to have…he hurt in places he did not know he had. And he was sticky, stiff, he barely had a morning erection…and he was exhausted. He had to face this…he knew he did, and so he propped himself up on an elbow and pulled the blankets back to find he was lying on his sleep shirt, it was slightly blood stiff in places and heavy here and there with…oh hell. It was all over his stomach, his legs, his chest…he reeked of sweat and sex. Gods! So did Isaac. Okay. They had slept together. Everything was all right…it really was. It wasn’t /exactly/ a bad thing.

He suddenly felt very strange…a mixture of pain, confusion, and a low anger burned in the pit of his stomach. And he suddenly did not want to be near Isaac anymore.

He managed to sit up, to stand up, but it took effort not to cry or swear, He did not want to rouse Isaac, even if the man was obviously so weary that he hadn’t woken even when Hector had all but dumped him onto the mattress. He couldn’t deal with Isaac. He couldn’t face him in the morning light. He could not deal with this feeling of disgrace in his stomach, and he knew he would not tolerate it when Isaac’s natural gloating nature would lead to jokes at his expense. Isaac was mercurial at best, and even if he had been tender last night, there was no guarantee he would have any regard for Hector’s feelings in the light of day.

Walking was…very painful. He took measured steps to the door, and then opened it carefully, considering he was naked. No one appeared to be in the hall though, so he retrieved the firewood the servants had left, holding it well away from his bare skin.

~*~

When the fire was started, he retreated to the bathroom and drew hot water. He did not feel well at all…and the lancing pain in his ass was not helping matters. He felt…hollow. Would they ever do this again? Would he want it again? Was this even normal? He was bleeding a bit still, was that supposed to happen? He was frustrated, unsure, and rather frightened. This was nothing that he knew how to deal with, and he was already terrified with the goings on in the castle. He was certain he could ask Isaac, but waking him up and admitting that he was hurt and frightened was the last thing he wanted to do with his morning. It was much easier to be angry at the beautiful red-head. And even simpler to be angry at himself.

He had wanted this, asked for it, and now here he was. Dealing with the consequences of his actions, and rightly so. Maybe Isaac had warmed him too well. Before he had been icy, but now he was angry. Everything felt like a terrible injustice, and he had a pounding headache from the way he had slept.

He could not begin to count his sins in the past two days alone, and not for the first time, he wondered what he was becoming.

When the water was deep enough, he slowly lowered himself in, and found himself sobbing dryly in a strange mixture of fear and pain. There were no tears. They would not come, but he could shake, and snivel. There were no tears for this strange nothingness in front of him. Before a week ago, there had been a future. Before a week ago, he was something to someone. The rage built in him, and turned inward completely until he wondered if he could throw himself from the top towers before anyone noticed.

Could he stop this damnable crying? Could he just stop feeing all together? He obviously had not known what he was doing last night, or he would never have unsealed that door and let Isaac in.

There was a strange pain building in him, an ache of betrayal that held no real grounds to speak of. He had agreed to obey his Lord. He had agreed to kill innocent townspeople. He had agreed, no, had all but /begged/ Isaac to do this with him. Isaac had made him warm, had held him close and made him feel. Feel safe and done just as he asked and wanted and Hector was angry with that.

Because no one wanted him. Even his Lord did not want him. He was only something to be used, a tool and no more. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for a place, for food and shelter and comfort. No, he was grateful, but he hated that he had nothing to call his own. No family, no real place. Everyone wanted something. Isaac was right. Everyone could find a use for you, dead or alive. Isaac could even use him for gratification, and he knew that he would let the other man. He would let him because he was strangely addicted to Isaac and as much as he hated him, he loved him.

He covered his face with wet hands and groaned, as loud sound of frustration in the narrow confines of the room, echoing off the water of the tub. The sound was loud enough that Deera (who had been dozing on the rug by the fireplace) nosed her way into the bathroom and came to investigate him, laying her scaled head on the edge of the tub. He reached out to her with a wet hand, stroking those ears. She hummed for him sympathetically, and he found he was even angry with her.

Angry that he had summoned her in the first place. He should have just let her drag his soul into purgatory…it was where he belonged anyways.

“Go,” he told her wearily.

She jerked back, sensing his anger now, because it was aimed at her, no matter how indirectly. She cringed, ears twitching.

“Go!” he repeated, this time gesturing harshly with a pointed finger, and sending droplets of water down her back and onto the floor in a hard line.

She skittered from the room then, whimpering and clawing for traction on the stone floor, desperate to obey her angry master. Desperate to leave.

He sobbed again, this time in pure self hatred, and thumped one fist impotently against the heavy porcelain on the edge of the tub. What had she ever done to deserve this, deserve him. She was an innocent animal that had never betrayed her master.

He washed his skin with shaking hands, cleaned the blood and stickiness from his body. He felt sick as he did so. He felt nauseous about everything that he had done. And as he tried to tuck his emotions back into place, as he crawled from the hot water and dried himself, he found himself leaning over the toilet and heaving until he was numb, and was on his hands and knees, unable to do anything more than quiver.

~*~

He was halfway dressed when Isaac decided to crawl out of bed. He looked…tumbled…for lack of a better word, crimson hair sticking up in unruly spikes and coiling in strange silky waves. When those blue eyes met Hector’s, curious, perhaps a bit worried and mostly satisfied; Hector thought he might be sick. He forced himself to not flinch, to not make a sound of guilt like the one that was trying to bubble up to his lips in the form of an apology.

Hector tied his hair back savagely, feeling the anger return, brush up against him like the velvet softness of a cat’s fur. Deep, dark. Wounded.

“Hector,” Isaac murmured, the corner of his mouth turning up a bit too cheerfully for Hector’s aggravated tastes.

“I left you with hot water.” Hector said lowly, icily.

He winced to himself then, he had not meant the words to come out like that.

Isaac stood and stretched, gloriously naked. Hector hated the fact that his stomach jumped pleasurably at the sight, no matter how sticky and bleary Isaac appeared.

“You’re bound to be sore, so go have some tea for pain. It will improve your disposition,” Isaac said with a smile that was warmer than his words.

It only aggravated Hector more. Even Isaac’s /words/ were a confusing double standard. Isaac’s response did not help Hector know what to feel, that was certain. The uncertainty lead to more fear, and the fear only encouraged the anger until the emotion found words attached to it. He spun on Isaac, who gave his brooding expression the acknowledgment of a raised eyebrow and a surprised upturn of the corner of his mouth.

“What would improve my disposition would be if you left me the hell alone!” Hector said dangerously, teeth grinding audibly.

“Hector…Hector…don’t be so touchy,” Isaac said lowly, hands in the air in mock surrender as he took slow steps towards his lover.

“I will be any way I like!” Hector hissed, jamming his over-tunic on and backing away for the door.

He could not let Isaac touch him. He would not let Isaac touch him. He would be sick if Isaac touched him.

“Hector, it’s natural to feel a bit upset…you lost your virginity last night, on top of already feeling terrible…it had been hard the last few days and…”

“Go to hell,” Hector spat, cutting Isaac (who was being strangely reasonable) off. “I don’t need lectures from you about my feelings!” he growled, storming out of the room in stocking clad feet and slamming the door behind himself.

The sound had barely ceased to echo in the halls when Hector turned on his heel and decided where he wanted to go; stalking off towards the library. He was however, unable to prevent himself from limping. He was almost to the turn in the corridor when he heard the door to his room open and glanced back to see Isaac standing almost forlornly in the hallway.

“Hector! You forgot your boots!” the red-head called.

“GO TO HELL!” Hector snarled, his voice echoing back towards him mockingly from the vaulted ceiling in the hallway.

~*~

He limped his way into the library, and grabbed a random book off the shelf, not bothering to look at the title. He padded by the set of chairs in the corner, when Adrian looked up from a scroll, and blinked at him, sharp and observant eyes taking in his appearance.

Wonderful. He had come here to be alone.

“What are you doing up so early Hector, and for heavens sake where are your boots?!” Adrian asked lowly.

Hector held the book between them like some sort of emotional shield, his breath coming in short gasps of anger, his shoulders tense with his frustration.

“It’s nothing,” he forced himself to say levelly.

It really was, it was nothing. There was no reason to feel like this, and he had already taken it out on one of his ID’s and Isaac, he didn’t need to add Adrian to the list of people he had abused today because he was a horrible man.

Adrian didn’t buy those words for a minute, (like the good friend he was) and was standing beside him almost before Hector could blink. The long haired young man did such things almost without thinking now…his powers had crested with his age.

“What is it? I can smell your rage…and…” Adrian leaned in closer, so close his lips nearly skimmed Hector’s throat, and Hector forced himself not flinch. “Hector?!” he exclaimed lowly.

Hector had to fight the urge to growl at Adrian’s worry and curiosity. He stayed perfectly still, book still clenched in trembling fingers.

“His scent is on your skin, so heavy that if I kissed you, his taste would be on your lips.”

Hector hackled.

“Leave me alone,” Hector said, pushing by Adrian and headed towards the far end of the library, the limp in his step and the set of his shoulders saying just how much he really did want to be alone right now.

“Hector…I smell your pain…did he wound you?!”

Hector turned to tell Adrian to go to hell as well, and instead found himself making a low and choked noise. He stood there, half turned towards The Lord’s son; and he panicked. He found himself shaking and he did not know why.

Adrian approached him more slowly this time, and very carefully pried the book out of his fingers. A strong hand came up to stroke Hector’s shoulder.

“Hector…it’s all right.” Adrian murmured lowly, his voice melodious and soothing.

When Hector’s knees buckled, Adrian slid lean arms around him, and pulled him to his shoulder, lowering them both to the floor.

“You are like my brother…I could not leave you to hurt…did he injure you?” Adrian asked lowly, dangerously.

“No.” Hector breathed shakily. “I all but begged him to…to…” he choked on the words, it sounded as if he were admitting some sort of evil darkness within himself, bringing it to the light of day, and he became embarrassed, burying his face in the heavy ruffles at the front of Adrian’s shirt. “Please forgive me…I do not know what is wrong with me,” Hector murmured thickly.

Adrian’s long and delicate fingers stroked against his back, across his hair and down his ponytail.

“That is a change…even for a man it is a change…do not think because I have not experienced it myself that I cannot comprehend…many of the servants are my friends…they talk to me often of such things. This reaction…seems to be quite normal.” Adrian held Hector close. “It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But to want…to want another man…as if I have not committed enough sin…”

“There is no sin in sharing pleasure with a kindred soul…there is no sin in wanting to love, and be loved in return.”

“But I don’t love him!” Hector growled lowly.

“Oh no?” Adrian asked, his tone disbelieving and a bit arch.

“I don’t…I can’t…”

“You mean perhaps, that you feel you cannot, so you won’t?”

Hector moaned into Adrian’s shoulder after thinking about it for a moment.

Oh dammit all, yes he did.

He was in love with the one person who would never be able to love him back how he needed, deserved.

“I hate him as much as I love him,” Hector stated wearily.

“It has been my experience…that there is such a fine line between love and hatred that the two feelings are occasionally indistinguishable,” Adrian said lowly.

“So I do love him?” Hector asked, feigning confusion because the truth was too bitter a thing to swallow.

“I know you hate him,” Adrian said lowly, his tone still slightly teasing.

“I still…to let a man…to…”

“Hector, don’t be foolish. Do you think God is so petty as to care who you love, so long as you love them? No, pettiness and judgment is man’s idea alone. Sin is man’s idea. I am not completely human, but I am not above love or need, Hector…you must not judge yourself. Not for any of the things that have happened, nor for what will. You have only ever done the best you could. To seek comfort, to seek pleasure in Isaac is not a vile thing so long as both of you wanted to be together.”

Hector was shaking his head because it was so much easier to hate himself than to face reality.

“I know nothing about…what we did…I…”

“Have questions?” Adrian asked softly.

Hector blushed even more scarlet at the patience in the younger man’s tone.

“How would you know the answers?” Hector asked lowly.

“Because I read all sorts of things I am not supposed to,” was Adrian’s reply. “So you are in pain?”

Hector grumbled something that was almost a response, and as he did so, long fingers were suddenly kneading down his back, strong fingers. Because Adrian was so willowy, it was easy to forget that he was half vampire. That he was powerful enough to snap bones like twigs. And yet in this moment, it was a rather wonderful gift. Those fingers were kneading his lower back, easing the pain there as if by magic, seeming to find every knot, knowing where it was at and easing it as best he could.

“I…” Hector found himself blushing yet another level of scarlet as he leaned heavily onto Adrian in approval. “I’m bleeding…just a bit...but…”

“Ahhh.” Adrian said lowly. “Quite common. You were a bit rough?”

Hector remembered then, how he had ridden Isaac, ridden him hard for the pain and the pleasure.

“Perhaps a bit?” Hector replied sheepishly.

“It will pass…and you have already taken a hot bath…that is useful…and I know you have other wounds…a good long soak might do you wonders if you are still sore.”

“Adrian…I…”

“It’s all right,” The younger man murmured.

“I have no right to complain because…she was your mother but…”

“She was your mother too,” Adrian said softly, his voice breaking as he rested his chin on top of Hector’s head.

Hector bit his lip until he drew blood. He would not cry. He would not. He was woman enough the way he was acting without tears. The last thing he wanted to do was give Isaac something to be right about.

“How many times have you selflessly comforted me…Hector…allow yourself the pain you feel. It does not make you weak…it makes you stronger.”

“I cannot…I cannot…” Hector whispered, pulling away from Adrian’s touch, licking the blood from his lip.

Adrian let him go, eyes following his every motion, including when he licked the drop of blood away.

Hector was still shaking.

“Let us…go retrieve your boots…and then we can stop at the infirmary and get you something for your headache. You have not eaten enough the last few days, and that cannot help the way you feel.”

~*~

Isaac had disappeared, or so it seemed.

Adrian had helped him clean up his room, change the linens on the bed, and then there had been a moment of silence between friends where they sat, drinking a cup of tea in silence.

“I’d feel bad…if he…”

“Not his way,” Adrian cut Hector off reassuringly.

“But I’m still thinking it.”

“Don’t worry…we will…everything will be all right. Father seems to have calmed.”

Adrian said, staring into the depths of his cup.

“Is he going to make us kill them all?” Hector asked.

“No, but he has forbidden us to leave the castle.”

“I he…what?!”

“You, nor Isaac, nor any of the servants are to leave the castle except for necessary errands.”

Hector’s stomach clenched.

“He…I can’t believe that…”

“I know Hector, I enjoyed the freedom myself.”

Hector felt bruised, numb, and so he retreated into his tea, trying to suppress a sigh.

Adrian looked weary.

“Rest…sleep in my bed for now…night comes in a mere handful of hours…” Hector said softly. “I believe I need to go for a walk in the gardens?”

Adrian smiled for him sweetly then. “Exercise so that your muscles stay warm…it will do you no good to be stiffer than you already are.”

Hector nodded.

Adrian gave him a strange look then, a knowing one.

It almost made Hector bristle. Why did everyone around him think they knew more about him than they did?

“Oh! Before you go…here…this is for…such purposes as you might need it…it is good for pain, and you can apply it anywhere you need it. Even directly into the wound on your chest, your injury will scar if you don’t keep some oil on it.” Adrian said, handing a vial of oil to Hector.

There was the slightest hint of a smirk there, but Hector attributed it to his imagination as he took the vial and pocketed it.

~*~

Halfway to the gardens in the fountain hallway, he ran into Isaac.

“Oh Hector…I was looking for you /everywhere/,” Isaac purred. “Are you still angry?” he asked, hand on one hip jauntily.

Hector was taken aback, simply because Isaac wasn’t angry with him, and didn’t seem to be all that terribly concerned either, though perhaps this morning he had been.

“I’m not sure,” Hector said lowly, “now if you will excuse me?”

He went to take a step past Isaac, but the taller red-head sidled over, blocking his path.

“Did you consider that perhaps I want to know how you are feeling? That perhaps I wonder if I did the right thing last night?!”

Hector glowered.

“You never do anything you don’t plan to Isaac…if you have a good weapon, you use it. When will you use this against me I wonder!?”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed in return.

“This?” Isaac asked as he gestured ethereally around them both.

“Us!” Hector said lowly, and then realized his mistake as soon as the words had come out of his mouth.

“What ‘us’? You made that clear this morning, Hector,” Isaac said lowly, spitting Hector’s name like it was poison.

Hector hadn’t thought of it that way. He had only thought about himself, protecting himself…and he thought Isaac was the one with the overblown self-defense mechanisms…he realized his mistake then. It had meant something to Isaac. He meant something to Isaac, but he had betrayed him.

He felt dirty, shaky, a bit like a whore. He had /used/ Isaac and he hadn’t even meant to. His need to be angry though, to be self-righteous won out in the afternoon light.

“That’s right Isaac. I don’t care at all. I do hate you. I used you, you are right!” He said heatedly, spite lacing his tone.

Isaac’s fist connected solidly with his jaw, and he staggered, tasting blood. Isaac had struck faster than he thought was possible. He got carefully to his feet, and ignored the red-head; he pushed right past him and kept walking for the gardens, this time with a purpose.

When he turned the corner out into the corridor surrounding the grounds, a heavy weight struck him in the back. He rolled instinctively, and Isaac was on top of him a moment later.

“You lie!” The red-head snarled, his fist drawn back.

Hector’s arms were pinned by Isaac’s knees, and he could not dodge the blow. It sent pain racing up his jaw and made his vision blur.

“You lie Hector Syldra! Take it back! Take it back!”

Isaac rained blows down on Hector, who recovered his wits enough to kick out, and up, dislodging his attacker. The rage from the pain carried over until he was atop Isaac, slamming his fist into that strong jaw just as hard as he could.

“Who cares about you Isaac!” Hector cried. “You’re just like everyone else! You say you want me but it’s only for as long as you can use me! You were right! Everyone /uses/ everyone else!” Hector was shouting now, and finally, finally the tears spilled. What stopped him from hitting Isaac again was the fact that the red-head was crying too, blue eyes strangely vulnerable.

“It’s not true, is it?” Isaac asked, his voice rough now with tears. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you…because you are afraid and hurt…you are lying to me! Swear to me that that you care about me and that you do not hate me! Swear that all you have said since we met in the hallway is a lie!!” Isaac’s voice was small and panicked.

Hector stood up off of Isaac with legs weak from adrenaline. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and turned to walk away.

He made it two steps before he was being hauled back around. Isaac grasped the front of his shirt in both fists, tear streaked blue eyes angry, and at the same time pleading. Crimson fell around a much too pale face like a curtain of silk, eyebrows were turned down at the outside edges, sensitive, wounded.

And Hector’s anger left him in a rush.

“I’m sorry.” Hector breathed, just before he was crushing his mouth to Isaac’s, standing on tiptoe and wrapping his arms around Isaac’s shoulders.

Isaac opened under his tongue, letting him explore. Their blood mixed, a taste of copper and salt. Isaac’s fingers were tangling in his hair as Hector’s knees buckled, and he lowered them both back to the hard marble of the corridor floor.

When they pulled apart for air, Isaac was glancing up at him, his lower lip trembling still.

“I am afraid.” Hector whispered, in the silence of the garden. “I’ve lost everything…everything is dead…and I was afraid because I lost…because I lose everything…I always do.”

His tears fell on Isaac’s upturned face, and Isaac pulled the tie from Hector’s hair with trembling fingers.

“Sometimes you must lose something, but something is always gained in its place. It is the law of alchemy that governs our lives…Hector…when you lost your mother; you gained The Lady and your ability to forge. When you made love with me last night, you lost your virginity, but you gained the other half of your soul. Can you not feel it?”

Hector shuddered as the tears kept falling, as he leaned down, capturing that trembling bottom lip with his. When he leaned away, he was drowning in Isaac’s gaze.

“I’m afraid too,” Isaac whispered against Hector’s lips. “But that doesn’t stop me from trying to find some happiness. That does not mean I am using you…it means I want to be with you. Do you really hate me?” Isaac asked, still vulnerable.

“Just as much as I love you.” Hector murmured as he closed the distance between them again, mouth seeking Isaac’s desperately.

Isaac moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Hector’s neck and holding him tightly, arching his hips up into Hectors.

Something broke between them then, something broke inside of Hector. Something that required him to taste Isaac, to own him, to be inside of him as he had let the other man do last night to him. Isaac only lost until Hector lent him the other half of his soul. Until they were one.

It was cold outside, and as much as Hector hated the lack of skin to skin contact, he found himself unbuckling his breeches, and Isaac’s. He had never been more grateful for the side snaps that allowed him to unbuckle Isaac’s leggings from the light armor he always wore above his tunic. It let him bare Isaac to himself, let him pull the fabric down and away so that he could slide between his lover’s knees.

Hector located the vial of oil in his pocket, and made eye contact with Isaac. The red-head just nodded, tears still wet in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Hector apologized again as those leather clad legs came up to rest over his shoulders, as Isaac scooted closer, his gaze pleading. “I want it fast…I need you inside me now Hector. Now!” Isaac was panting for air, his quickly awoken arousal already twitching against his belly. Blue eyes were animal, and his hands were tight against Hector’s shoulders.

Desperation, it ran raw between them, so raw that Hector did not even have time to be nervous. He opened the vial, dumping it out over his need, and then lined himself up with the promise of heat against that tight bud.

He could not meet that gaze as he thrust his hips reflexively, pushing into that tightness. For a moment, he gasped and arched his back, just as Isaac did. The sensation was astonishing…even better than Isaac’s mouth over him before. So tight he thought Isaac might strip the skin from his member. But Isaac relaxed suddenly, and Hector came fully to rest without trying. It felt as if Isaac’s body was pulling him inside.

“Isaac!” Hector gasped, struggling not to finish at that very moment.

When he opened his eyes, Isaac was panting for air beneath him, shuddering. Blue eyes opened to meet Hectors. And they both were moving, Isaac clinging desperately to the top of Hector’s shoulders, moving back against his every thrust. His every movement that felt like heaven and hell.

Isaac was so warm inside that the Romanian spring chill could not touch him, even where he was bare before the wind. There was no cold marble; there were only the arms of his lover. There was nothing else in the world but Isaac beneath him, around him, holding him close. Holding him tightly.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” Hector apologized as he moved, as he changed his angle, his speed, searching for that place that Isaac had found for him. When he did, Isaac was clawing against his back, arching his hips up and clinging with his knees so tightly that Hector could hardly draw air. Isaac’s mouth cut off anything else he might have said and that power was tingling between them again, washing over their skin and tickling the hairs at the nape of their necks.

Hector was whimpering, falling, losing part of himself, losing himself into Isaac’s embrace, into those tiny sounds of want that his lover was making. Isaac was calling his name lowly, quietly, desperation edging him tone until pleasure stole that soft voice.

“I didn’t mean it.” Hector whispered as he laid his cheek on Isaac’s chest, as he let one leg slide from his shoulder as he pressed harder, deeper, faster, and Isaac sobbed his approval, his surrender.

Isaac stroked his back then, a gesture that clearly said that he understood, just before he arched up underneath Hector, and there was wetness against his shirt, against his lower belly. Something happened inside Isaac at the same time. His muscles convulsed down tighter around Hector, and tore something from him that made him see stars, made him hear nothing but a strange hum as his body bucked against his control, driving himself into the shelter of Isaac over and over again, until he was empty and numb and /safe/ and not altogether himself, but part of Isaac.

When his breathing had slowed, and he felt a bit better, he opened his eyes. Isaac was laying back against the cold of the marble without so much as a flinch.

It occurred to him then that they were really a sight. The both of them were sporting bruises on top of bruises, Isaac was getting a fat lip, and here Hector was getting a black eye. And here they lay with their pants around their knees, and covered in seed.

Hector still did not want to move. He did not want to give up the sanctuary of Isaac’s warmth, his protection. His strange understanding. In some ways, Isaac was far more mature than he was. In others, he was just as childlike. It made it very hard to know what was the right thing to do. Like now.

He had not had any pretty words to say for Isaac, there had been no gentle touches, just animal lust and desperation. Of course there was affection there too, it just was not an easy thing to explain, a combination of lust and love, of hate and hunger. His only consolation was that Isaac had told him that like this was all right. Part of him wondered if some other day, if he might be the one to seduce Isaac, to slowly and gently do this, to do this the way that his heart said he should. The way Isaac had done for him.

When he lifted his head away from that still racing heart he had been letting lull him, Isaac’s eyes met his. “There is time for all things, and many ways…I needed this like this, and you felt no nervousness…besides…this is not my first time like this.”

Hector nodded uneasily.

~*~

They shared the bath water this time in Isaac’s quarters, considering Adrian was still sleeping in Hector’s bed. Isaac was tenderly stroking Hector’s back, had pulled him to his chest where Hector hung exhaustedly. The hot water went a long way to ease aches, for him and Isaac both.

“I miss her.” Hector whispered lowly.

He knew from the reassuring touch of Isaac’s hands that the red-head did as well.

“I miss many things as well…Hector, though you may become an even fiercer and crueler lord than I someday…stay nearby. We should not be separated at a time like this.”

Hector nodded.

“Adrian says The Lord has calmed, but he has forbidden any of us to leave the castle.”

Isaac’s hands stilled, and he made a low and worried sound in his chest under Hector’s ear.

“As my Lord wishes,” Isaac said lowly, but there was a hint of some emotion that Hector could not name in that tone.


~*~

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