The Competition
Chapter Two
The Grand and the Glorious: Thank you! I’m so glad you like it so far :)
Anon: Thank you :) Yes, I did post this story once before, as I mentioned in the author’s notes. But I’m not guilty of the bookshop bit – maybe you are confusing it with something else? I hope you’ll enjoy it though.
Chaotic Binky: I’m glad you are enjoying it, and I’m so happy that you like the humour – it’s like being complimented on mathematics by Carol Vorderman *g*
Secondly, I believe I might have found an editor for this story, and so some things may change. However, should it fall through, is there anyone out there who would be interested in editing for me? I’m particularly looking for someone who will be merciless as regards grammar, but who would also be able to advise on plot and pacing. If you are interested, please email me: pippychick_uk@yahoo.co.uk Or revive.ophelia, if you're around, are you still interested in editing this story?
Thank you.
Chapter Two
Neal was a decent enough guy. He seemed to get on with everyone, unless of course he was drunk. Then he tended to get a little bit belligerent at darts’ games. He would wish you a cheery good morning, unless there was no milk for his coffee. In which case he would grunt in bad-tempered monosyllables until the milkman had been. He was at the magical age of twenty-one, which meant that things were pretty much downhill from here on, but he blindly ignored that fact in the way only the young can.
Currently he was at home. University had finished for the Easter break, and Neal had left his student digs to go and wallow in the luxury of his parents’ house. After a couple of nights out at the local pub catching up, and then later, throwing up, and two days spent making his old room messy enough to comfortably sleep in, he decided to emerge from ‘the upstairs’ and see what there was to do during the day. Immediately he wished he hadn’t.
“Oh, Neal! You’re up!” His Mother chimed brightly from the kitchen. Neal grunted a monosyllable at her until he found himself seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He gazed blearily through the kitchen window at the darkish blue outside as the sky got lighter. This was a weekday, and so both of his parents were up and about, getting ready for work. Neal vaguely wondered how it must be not to have term breaks, and then slammed an iron fist down on that line of thought. Not yet, he thought. As the noise carried on around him, Neal realised he had another hangover. He cringed at the sound of his Mother shouting shrilly for something from upstairs. He got himself some cornflakes, and then lost his appetite when the sickly aroma of his Father’s aftershave drifted into the kitchen. Neal began to seriously consider going back to bed. He noticed eventually that someone was talking to him, and paid attention.
“Will you take out the rubbish when you leave the house?” He was leaving the house? Neal stared blankly. “When you take Nip out for his walk,” his Mother elaborated impatiently as if she had already told him once, obviously beginning to get stressed. “Your Father hasn’t had the time this morning, and Nip needs the exercise.” Neal sighed and nodded. He nodded again more enthusiastically before his Mother could say another thing.
“Yes, I will. Don’t worry about it.” He wondered what he had just agreed to, but didn’t allow his cluelessness to show on his face as he gave his Mother a warm and reassuring smile. He was proud enough to have been speaking recognisable English at this time in a morning. All he needed to do was see them go out of the door. When it finally fell quiet, Neal groaned and rested his aching head on the tabletop. He stretched his hands out over the table, thanking God that his parents had left, and accidentally knocked the bowl of cornflakes onto the floor.
“Oh, fuck!” He swore, and then jumped up when the dog began sniffing round at the milk and cereal. “No!” He shouted. “Nip! Leave it alone!” The dish was broken, and Neal quickly tidied up the mess, before sitting down and thinking back to what he would do today. His Mother’s voice rang in his head, and Neal groaned. The dog. He stared at Nip.
“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he lied, shaking his head a little. From what he had seen the sky was clear. But then, if you couldn’t lie to your dog, you really were in trouble. The giant red setter just looked back at him, not understanding, his big, pink tongue lolling crazily from his mouth. Neal sighed. “It might mean you don’t get to go out,” he furnished. Still the dog stared at him. Suddenly Neal thought. There had been one hell of a storm last night though, hadn’t there? It had been heavy enough to drag him from his alcohol-induced stupor. Damn! That meant it really would be muddy. He tested the dog. “No walk today.”
Neal hadn’t bothered to come home at Christmas last year, he had friends he wanted to stay with, and so the last time he had been alone with Nip was when the young setter was still very much a puppy. He was far from that now. As an older puppy, Nip had still lived up to his name, yapping and dancing around whenever the word ‘walk’ was mentioned. Now, though… Nip sat waiting patiently until Neal stood up, and then reared up to place his two massive forepaws on Neal’s shoulders. He gazed deeply into his Master’s eyes on almost the same level. Shit.
“Ok,” he said slowly, swallowing. “You win.” Neal walked forward and Nip let him go. He would take out the damn dog, then. And maybe after that he would go to the snooker club. See who was around.
He dressed quickly in jeans and a sweater, thinking that he would have a shower when he returned. It looked as though he was about to get covered in mud anyway.
The walk turned out to be better than he had thought. The air was so fresh and clean after the furious storm overnight that it woke him up, and his headache soon vanished. He went further than he had at first planned to, taking the dog all the way through the woods and then back out again. It was overcast by the time they neared the end of the trees, and just cold enough to make Neal long for the hot shower to be had at home. As they exited the woods, he turned around and whistled for the dog, who came galloping at top speed from way down the path. Neal turned back to the road, and fingered the lead in his hand.
He looked casually towards the little church on his right, and a feeling of very real, very deep dread came over him. Neal was taken aback. He must have seen that place a billion times, and it had never made him feel dread in the Christian sense. Mostly, he thought the church was pretty. He had long ago decided that he didn’t believe in any God, and so the feeling currently coursing through his veins made him very uncomfortable indeed. He stood staring at the entrance for a minute, and then without taking his eyes from it, he very slowly knelt down to attach the lead in his hand to Nip’s collar.
“Stay away from me,” he said quietly to no one in particular. Now where had that come from? Neal shook his head to clear it, and decided that he probably shouldn’t have walked so far this early in the morning. His head had begun to ache again, and he felt a little ill. Perhaps he shouldn’t have skipped breakfast either.
“Come on, Nip!” He said with forced brightness, and deliberately walked away from the church. Home lay past the little building, but Neal reasoned that he just wanted to walk around the block before heading back. He definitely wasn’t avoiding it. Not at all. The giant dog trotted faithfully beside him, keeping up with his long strides easily. But Neal now had more than one companion. He just didn’t know that they were there… yet.
“He was talking to you,” Angel said thoughtfully. “Didn’t you feel like listening?” He and Demon had followed the mortal home, and both of them now occupied his bedroom while Neal was in the shower. Demon smirked.
“Oh, no lying now! He was talking to us both. You don’t have to interfere.”
“But you know I must,” Angel sighed. He joined his lover on the bed, and snuggled into his arms like a lost child. Demon allowed it for a moment, and then suddenly rolled over to trap Angel beneath him.
“I don’t want to fight,” Angel whined as Demon held his wrists down to the bed. “I thought you had enough of that last night.”
“I can never get enough of you. If you don’t want to fight, dear Angel, then I suggest you don’t.” He laughed and stole a kiss that Angel couldn’t help but reciprocate. But then Demon found that he was fighting. He knew they had moved, but he didn’t open his eyes straight away. He moaned tiredly.
“Do you always have to bring me here,” he complained bitterly, then he realised what he was fighting against, and he grinned. He pulled experimentally at the chains that held him still. “Oh, Angel,” he sighed in rapture, opening his eyes at last to the glory of Heaven. He was a little blinded by it, all light and perfection, but he couldn’t fail to see Angel looking down at him. “Are you going to fuck me?” He waited, and wasn’t at all surprised when Angel shook his head.
“No,” he said, frowning a little as he looked down. “Why does it always have to be like this with you?” He fingered the chains that were embedded deep in the rock they lie upon, pulling on them so that Demon moaned at the reminder he was helpless here. He felt his desire beginning to burn. “I have to hold you down to love you,” Angel said regretfully.
“Are you going to punish me for it?” Demon asked hopefully, and Angel narrowed his eyes.
“No.” He rid Demon of the black leather outfit with a wave of his hand, and then began placing gentle kisses on his chest and stomach. “I’m going to do nice things to you,” he whispered against Demon’s skin, “while you lie there helpless to stop me, and you are going to learn to appreciate them.”
Demon tested the chains again, and growled, his eyes closing in lust as the sweet kisses continued. “Nice things?” he asked, whimpering as if the very idea hurt him in some way. “Well, Angel,” he began, but then gasped when the lips moved down to kiss his erection; the light touch was a torture. “That really works for me.”
“I know,” Angel said simply, and Demon looked to make sure he wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t. Angel never smirked. Demon let his head fall back and submitted to Angel’s torment. Nice things. The only things Angel ever did to him, and the one kind of treatment that would make Demon want to escape. He grinned again. Damn. A sudden thought struck him.
“I’m not forgetting about the boy,” he reminded his lover seriously. “The opening move is mine, and I will make it.”
“Be quiet, Demon,” Angel said.
“Or what?” A moment later there was something uncomfortably large filling his mouth. “Mmphf!” Demon said. Angel had gagged him! Demon wondered how long it would take before Angel’s gentleness made him really struggle; that was, after all, the best bit.
Neal turned off the shower and stepped from the cubicle, listening carefully. Had the storm started again? He thought he had heard thunder, but he might have been mistaken. It was difficult to hear under the water. He shrugged and dried himself, before brushing his teeth and having a shave.
He went into his bedroom, and searched among the scattered clothes for something clean to wear. Nip came upstairs and began to sniff curiously at his bed. He chased the dog away, and carried on throwing the occasional item from his backpack until he found something he might be seen alive in. Before he could get dressed, sex crossed his mind. It often did. But he was alone in the house, and nowhere important to be. He shut Nip outside and lie down on his bed, letting the towel drop from around his hips as he did so.
Demon was about to make his first move.
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading. I hope you are enjoying it. Please rate and review.