The True Mate

“Where are you going with my Minori?” A stern very familiar voice said close by. Minori knew that voice though he couldn’t see her. All he could see was Tristan’s handsome face filled with worry above him and felt his strong arms hold him tighter, protectively.

He smiled and wiggled until he was on his feet, catching his bundle before it fell to the floor. He was one of her favorite children but because he wasn’t a girl, he couldn’t inherit this place. He’d never minded and had been truly happy when she’d named Yuki her daughter to inherit. Yuki deserved this place; she was kind and sweet and knew how to properly run it. But since he was one of Okaa san’s most dear, saying good bye would be difficult emotionally, verbally he knew how to handle her.

“Konbanwa Okaa-san,” he greeted in Japanese, she didn’t know English and had no desire to learn, and bowed deeply with the immense respect he felt for her. When he rose he met her aged yet still very captivating expectant, displeased, fearful face. It was said she could still draw customers to her if she chose to live actively as a geisha, even with the gray streak in her long black hair. Minori believed the rumors; she was as lovely as the autumn sunset.

Her dark, slanted eyes shifted to Tristan, taking him in with one disapproving look then she folded her arms below her breasts. “I allowed this…” She perked a brow. “Man to stay in your room for the day. I know he entered my house late, I watched the two of you head upstairs.” She said accusingly. “And I allowed it because you deserved someone of your choice for your devotion and hard work.”

Minori opened his mouth but she held up her hand quickly, her eyes narrowing, telling him not to interrupt her.

“Akane and Taro said they heard you through the morning,” She softened with worry and reached for him. “Minori, I know you, has he hurt you? Has he bullied you into running away with him, did he threaten you? Akane said she heard you weeping. You don’t have to go Kawaii waga.” She tugged him toward her protectively. “I swore to you I’d never let it happen again.”

Shaking his head, Minori rested his hand gently upon hers. He tried to stifle the pain he felt as the terrible memory he’d tried so hard to bury resurfaced and the man’s face grinned wickedly.

“No, it’s not like before Okaa-san-“

“Come with me Minori,” She ordered and he knew she didn’t believe him. So he tried to reason with her.

“Tristan is kind to me. This is my choice; I want to be with him.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have said so. He knew his leaving would ache a little for them both, but she was always reasonable, always so level headed, always listened, he’d never expected her literally yank him toward her and place herself between he and Tristan Or to hear her call for the only other males working and living here.

“Taro, Daisuke!” Before Minori could utter another word, the two elder males appeared from behind a door and Taro wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“No, Okaa-san!” Minori pleaded. He didn’t know what Tristan was or what he’d turned him into but he was sure Okaa-san wouldn’t like what might happen if she stood in Tristan’s way. It frightened him to think she might be hurt or Taro and Daisuke might be as well. He pleaded with his eye to Tristan not to hurt them.

“Let me go Taro, please!”

He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but his Minori was drifting further and further from him. Wishing bitterly that he knew even basic Japanese, he paid attention to the strain in the older woman's voice. She loved Minori, Tristan realized. 'She loves him... those men, too, they love him like a brother and now I'm taking him from them.'

It was a sad realization but did not change that fact that he was forever bound to young and precious Minori. It would be easy he knew, to overpower these people, but that would only increase the well of ache he sensed existed within his beautiful lover. 'How to calm them? How do I tell them... that's he's mine... that I love him.' Taking a step forward, he saw the youth with his arms around Minori, tighten his grip.

'But he's mine.'

Tristan's face was cold to the young man and he actually had to restrain himself from attacking him, physically or mentally. If he wanted to, he could convert the young man's mind into mush. Though he had never actually attempted such a grotesque act, he knew, like all Vampires knew, just how to get what he wanted.

"Minori?" He asked gently. "I... won't force you..." Even though leaving there alone would mean death, he wouldn't force his mate to do anything he did not want to do. He'd been granted so much pleasure since the previous morning, that he at least could enter eternal darkness with sweet memories.

Minori tensed in Taro’s strong grip and felt suddenly torn. It wasn’t because he was torn between Okaa-san and this little family versus Tristan. No, he deeply wished to go with Tristan. This place, he was ashamed to say since he cared for Okaa-san, was nothing more than a gilded cage. Tristan was freedom and fresh air. So silly of him to think of someone he’d just met. Okaa san would say he was being foolish and he should stay else have his heart broken and then be discarded like trash.

Wetting his lips, he touched Okaa-san’s kimono. “He said he wouldn’t force me Okaa-san… I want to go with him-“

She whirled around with deep anger in her eyes. “I forbid it! You will not leave this house-“

Minori glared for the first time since he was beaten and broken at the tender age of seven. He felt a surge of energy rise within him, stronger than anything he’d ever felt. It frightened him but he was so furious it was overcoming his fear. “He’s mine! If you cast him out, hurt him, or take him away from me I’ll never forgive you!”

Taro’s hold faltered and Minori slipped from his grasp quickly. He drew mere inches from Okaa-san’s beautiful face watching her for the slightest move, aware of Daisuke creeping closer slowly. Daisuke was a descendant of a samurai family, a family who’d still passed on some fighting skills. Minori knew he didn’t stand a chance against him should worse come to worse but he didn’t care.

He could feel utter shock and confusion from all three of his obstacles, his semi-family. It was no wonder, he never acted this way, never challenged anyone. This wasn’t like him in the least, not the person he’d become and he felt shameful. Still, he didn’t waver.

“I have only ever asked for simple things, things I could pay for-“

Okaa-san lifted a trembling hand and touched his cheek. “Minori,”

He softened a little at her touch. “I know you’re worried for me but…” He cast his eyes toward Tristan. “I feel safe with him. I feel warm, I feel everything.”

He felt a shift in the air and sensed Daisuke’s hands reaching for him and turned to fend him off, anger taking hold of his heart violently.

His connection with Minori had become, in a such a short period of time, so incredibly strong that it seemed for a moment that he could understand his love, even though he spoke in foreign tongue. 'He's choosing me... he's going to stay with me... he's fighting to be mine.'

Those thoughts coursed through his veins and warmed him more than fresh blood. Yet, almost as quickly of he felt of the loyalty within Minori, he felt a sudden rage emanating from the young man. A rage he remembered from when he first turned. But in fairness, he couldn't say he actually recalled the rage itself, just the blood on his clothes, the long locks of hair in his hands and the realization of what he had done; that's what he remembered.

If he didn't get Minori away from these men, away from this woman who loved him, then something horrible would happen. A sliver of premonition flashed in his eyes, and his fangs burst downward, as his own body reacted to the anger and fear of his lover.

Seeing shades of red, the urgency too great to permit real color, he moved to Minori with such speed that he might as well have been invisible. For him, however, the world seemed to stop.

Gently he removed Minori's hands from the other young man and wrapped his arms around his lover. Almost slowly, it seemed, he ushered him from those that he loved. Minori, still a new Vampire, could see and register Tristan's movements, but was unable to mirror them, so Tristan held him tightly, carrying him, grabbing the small blanket of goods and walking through the back door.

Once through he returned to normal speed, his chest suddenly heaved as if he had slowed time by actually stopping the motion of the earth. Even with ceasing his extreme motion, he didn't linger in the dark and strange alley.

Running, with his vision still tinted in crimson, he found a nook containing abandoned crates and fishing nets. It felt safe enough, so he paused and set Minori, who's body still pulsed with simmering rage, onto a crate. Then he ran his palms over Minori's cheeks and leaned his head so that their foreheads touched.

"I feel it too. I feel... centuries of hate trying to overwhelm you. The devil is dancing tonight isn't he?" His fangs were still extended as he stared into Minori's dilated eyes. "If you must attack someone... use me. I will gladly bear it."

Minori felt the air currents shift, felt familiar arms around him, picking him up and whisking him away. He saw it through the strange haze beginning to cloud his eyes yet he could see clearly. His world was speeding away and slowing down all in the same moment, sending a shock to his system, making his grazed nerves flare in pain and undeniable rage.

He thought he heard a soothing voice, thought he felt cool hands upon his hot cheeks, but the wrath inside of him from being threatened shocked his instincts in to motion.

Growling viciously, much like an infuriated, feral tiger, he shoved the figure before him away and advanced upon it quickly, eyes wide, and fingers extended to tear and claw his assailants face away. He’d rip its heart out and devour it for trying to hurt him!

Pain and severe itching in his mouth assaulted him, burned him. It drove his fury that much higher, a fury that beckoned him to tear everything in his path asunder and leave nothing recognizable behind.

Giving in to this insane raw need he attacked viciously pinning the creature before him to the ground, clawing and tearing at his flesh and clothes. As soon as the scent of blood reached his flared nostrils, the pain in his mouth reached a new level and something began to grow. His mouth began to water and a new burning desire took hold… the need to feed.

Caught in a tsunami of primal rage and hunger, Minori ripped the offensive shirt from his victim sniffing out a place to feed and shoved his face down, opening his mouth to bite.

Hot, sweet, silky blood touched his tongue and instantly he wanted more, sucking and drinking greedily.

But soon he felt something, tasted something familiar. He knew this blood. Startled, Minori sniffed as he sucked. This scent… a pang struck and gripped his heart. Tristan.

Ripping his head back with a gasp, Minori scrambled away, knocking over a crate. His whole body quaked as he panted and the rage faded and his eyes took in the horror he’d caused. One look and he was bent over retching until his throat and insides burned.

‘Kami, I’m a monster!’ he thought and glanced back over his shoulder, daring to look once more. ‘What have I done?!’

“Tristan?” he gasped weakly. “Tristan!” he said more loudly and inched closer upon his knees. ‘Please, no, don’t be dead, please please please!’

“Tristan!” he screamed as tears stole his sight and his heart lurched inside his chest.

He wasn't sure what he had expected when he offered for Minori to use him for such violence. Part of him wondered if he had over reacted, stealing Minori away so quickly when he sensed the beginnings of the horror. But as trembling, enraged fingers tore down upon him, and that lovely face, his Japanese Flower, contorted with such hatred, he knew he'd spared several lives. For a Vampire, this was an odd thing to be happy about.

When the attack began, he was just as eager as Minori, feeding off his emotions, happy to feel skin splitting beneath anxious fingernails. Then he realized that the skin being slashed to pieces, left to dangle like fine ribbons on a shaking frame, was in fact his own. Victoria had told him once, that a true made Vampire felt only a tenth of the pain that average humans endured, but since his neck had never healed, it was possible he would feel pain more vividly than most of their kind.

Lying on the ground, his body opened in more places than he could count, he knew that Victoria had been right. And still, completely helpless against the rage being played out on him, he desired even more destruction. That was how terrifyingly close their bond had become. Through Minori's crazed logic, he desired his own death. 'Kill that which vexes you. Destroy it.' His warped intellect cried out while his physical body grew numb to the overall pain, accepting it as a dull and constant throb. Gradually he became aware of his blood leaving him, pooling around him.

'No... don't... don't drain me beyond what my heart can handle,' he pleaded silently, crying out incoherently. Suddenly he felt deliciously hungry and immediately felt the satisfying warmth of his own blood flowing down Minori's throat. So strong was this feeling that it outweighed the erotic pain of his chest being invaded viciously by virginal fangs.

"No... Please..." he tried to murmur, realizing that if Minori didn't stop soon, he would indeed lose his heartbeat and slip away into eternal night. "Minori.." he whispered. His mind blurred and the connection intensified for a blissful moment and he was able to leave himself completely, enjoying only the sating taste of blood, riding the anger and hatred out like a bizarre storm. And in that one moment, reliving the pain of first fangs, a terrible web of memories interlaced and revealed themselves to him.

Finally, as if watching through a dream, he understood the true terror of what had happened at his family manor over a year ago. Instead of fast forwarding to the disoriented waking, alone and in the overgrown grass of the marsh near the ranch house, he actually saw the destruction he had unleashed.

His father had been first. It had made sense at the time, in his panicked and angry fury, to dispose of the male quickly before erasing all threats. His blood lusting eyes didn't register his father's horror, and his ears were too overwhelmed with the sound of someone screaming to hear the man crying for him to stop.

"Mi..Minori.." his mouth formed the name as he tried to escape from their connection. 'I never thought I would wish to be parted from his feelings,' But those feelings showed him more than he could handle. Presently he viewed his mother. She was beautiful once. Until her son eagerly ripped her to shreds, dropping pieces of her body all over the house while he searched in desperation for the one who had escaped.

'I don't want to see it.' His little sister, only seven... he had found her hiding under her bed. "Trissy! Why!" Her sobbing face had asked. At the time he hadn't heard these words, but suffering through the memory, hearing his sweet sister beg for her life, he wanted suddenly to die, and felt that Minori was very close to granting that wish. 'I can't... no more,' his body and mind concluded at the same time, and he became as one who was dead. In this state, he was freed of physical pain and the odd discomfort of a body racing desperately to heal itself.

The only thing left to him now, was Minori's voice cutting through to his awareness. 'Is Minori crying? Don't cry? It's over now. We survived it.' Blinking, he brought himself back from the dangerously attractive cusp of nothingness. He still saw red, but it was because of the blood caked inside his eyes. Everything felt severed. He wondered if he was still whole, or if perhaps the numbness in his legs and arms was because they were no longer there.

"Minori..." his voice sounded so little and strange and wrought with pain that he didn't even recognize it.

Minori jumped as Tristan called out to him. He didn’t sound like… For a moment he could only stare, unable to tear his eyes away and he wanted to be sick again. Tristan’s body looked as though it had been attacked by some beast, his arms and torso, Kami even his abdomen ripped open; like a giant cat had come to use him as a scratching post.

The tears came in full force and Minori dared draw near to this nightmare, placing his hands upon his body. Feeling still oozing blood, torn flesh, and part of Tristan’s rib cage Minori started once again and lifted his hands, examining the stains. Never in his widest dreams or horrific nightmares did he ever think he’d have blood on his hands. He couldn’t even bring himself to scold the stray dogs in the street or the poor man who’d tried to rob him as he passed from the market just weeks before.

Yet here was Tristan’s blood. His heart felt as ruined and torn as Tristan’s body. He felt so alone, more lost than ever before as he looked around for help, anyone passing by at all but there was no one, not even a rat. The scared loneliness he felt before turned into a terrifying emptiness that spurned sheer panic.

“No,” he breathed, scrambling to set Tristan’s skin right as best he could and try to hold him together. “W-why didn’t y-you stop me? Why?” He sobbed. “Please don’t l-le-eave me, I’m so s-sorry…I-I won’t do it a-again I swear! I don’t even k-know… Tristan please!”

Borrowing Minori's eyes, as his were temporarily disabled, he could see tattered clothes, (or was that actually skin?), the white of something like bone, his blonde hair now red almost black it was so drenched, and artistically lining all of it, was a warm puddle of blood, his own.

'No wonder you are crying my lovely Minori,' he realized and fought not be overcome with his mate's inescapable sadness and regret. 'I love you Minori. I do not begrudge you this. I would suffer far worse to keep you.' He wanted to say these things out loud, but his throat was crushed and it was torturous to force words through it.

Still, Minori needed to hear something, since Tristan was certain his mate was far too laden with sorrow to pick up on his thoughts. "Hold me." He managed to squeeze through his broken windpipe.

Minori barely heard it and a small sliver of relief spread through him as Tristan spoke. Instantly, carefully as he would hold the finest porcelain, he gathered Tristan in his arms, smoothing the hair from his face. It pained him to only smear blood over the already splatter skin. He’d do anything to comfort his lover, anything to keep him but he didn’t know what to do.

Placing a kiss upon cool lips, Minori tried to think past his guilt and panic and fear. Something inside his mind clicked, a memory, and he lifted his wrist to his to his mouth and bit himself. At first nothing happened but the feel sting of a hard bite. Why could he bite his Tristan and drink from him but not himself?

There wasn’t a sharp thing within his reach and anything in reach or near by was wood and too dull to break skin. So Minori did the only thing he could think of, he leaned toward the wall of the building, mindful of his love, and began rubbing his wrist against the rough stone as hard as he could. Perhaps if he could make himself bleed, Tristan would smell it and take it from him.

This pain was nothing compared to what he felt inside. Just seconds later he smelled his own blood and brought his wrist over Tristan’s lips. “Please, take it back from me. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

The scent of Minori’s blood sent his body into a harsh spasm. Was it need or fear that willed his lips to open? ‘Don’t waste your blood, darling Minori, I need you healthy right now, I need you... to protect me,’ but those thoughts were hushed with the first taste. The blood from his mate was surprisingly potent. As it filled his eager mouth, he could already feel the tingling of his body righting itself. Minori’s earlier actions, setting Tristan’s skin in place, had been the correct thing to do.

Almost as if a thousand needles sought to sew him whole again, his shredded organs closed themselves. His ribs reformed slowly, like fingers interlacing. Gaining strength at last, his lips drenched with Minori, he reached up and pushed the delicate wrist away. ‘I have to stop before I drain you.’

Still shivering and aching and held captive by his body’s painful regeneration, he drew Minori’s face down to him and lapped at the sweet lips. Slipping his tongue in further, he was overwhelmed with Minori’s shame. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for my little flower. You have harmed no one. This pain will pass and we’ll know pleasure to erase these memories. You did well, Minori. I am thankful that I was here for you in the moment of your rage.’

As the blood made it’s way to his heart, he found himself pulling Minori closer and closer. Just having him near made him feel less pain, made him feel like he could survive. ‘I hope you understand now, Minori, how I could never leave you. I love you so deeply. And we belong to each other forever.’

Minori felt words again and this time he felt their meaning even though he couldn’t hear them. They were of love and reassurance. They made his heart tremble inside his chest. He’d never been loved like this. It was similar to the love his mother had once bestowed upon him and yet different, stronger and maybe that was because he could feel the one who gave it so freely through this strange connection.

As he returned the kiss a lump in his throat grew so large he choked and more tears streamed down his cheeks, falling upon Tristan’s beautiful blood stained face. He didn’t deserve this kind of love and certainly not after what he’d done. He didn’t deserve to kiss or touch or even look at Tristan ever again. He didn’t deserve the forgiveness he felt. He didn’t deserve to be treated as a person when he was no more than a monster. Monsters were to be banished and slain and sent into utter darkness for all eternity never to be reborn and if he was to be reborn in a next life it should be something grotesque and awful, something that would be tortured.

The shame was unbearable, the realizations of what he’d done so unbearable he wanted to die and since his actions were so frightening, vile, and cruel, he’d die without one thread of honor. However, he couldn’t die until he’d seen Tristan well and whole again. He’d not leave him helpless and prone.

Lifting his head, he wiped his nose and averted his eyes, eyes undeserving of Tristan’s beautiful soul. He shuddered at the sight of rapid, unnatural healing but was glad for it and sniffled. “My kimono,” He paused imagining how beautiful Tristan would look in it, how regal… “Wear that, I-I’ve ruined your clothes.”

Beginning to sob again he hung his head but didn’t let go. He couldn’t as unworthy as he was, Tristan had asked to be held. He would never deny him what he wanted.

“Don’t forgive me, I can’t bear it.” He breathed. “He was right, I destroy everything I touch.”

‘I told you I would bear this. And I meant it.’ He thought and blinked again, his eyes returning to him. Had they been gashed? Or simply drenched in blood... he wasn’t sure. But looking up at the pale body, he felt desperate and sad.

‘My little Minori... there’s so much hidden away in you. I hope someday you trust me enough to tell me everything and of your own volition, for I fear that I might accidentally sneak into your memories if you resist, that’s how curious I am about you.’

The ground was so cold all of a sudden, and he was glad to sense it, for it meant that his body was regaining some normal recognition above and beyond the ugly pain. With each passing second he became ever more aware of his life force, his heart, his lungs, his desire. Along with this, he felt Minori‘s inner turmoil surface above all other feelings. Undeserving... unworthy... that‘s what Minori felt of himself and it broke Tristan‘s heart.

“My Flower... please... don’t think such things...” he managed to speak out loud. Already his crushed body was becoming whole, even his throat felt almost normal. “Minori...” he whimpered and lifted a hand to stroke the pale cheek. He wanted to tell him that he was proud of him for restraining his rage; for only attacking his maker who could bear it and survive. He wanted to make Minori understand that it could have been much worse. And he wanted to finally weep at the memory of his own ‘rage,’ the memory of his first kills, that had been utterly secret even to himself.

But he couldn’t form these words yet, they hurt him too much, and at the moment he was more concerned with lavishing love onto his beautiful and confused mate than delving into his own inner darkness.

At that moment, it began to rain. They were barely sheltered from it, by an old canvas overhang with several strange symbols on it probably advertising fresh fish, or -- considering the neighborhood -- virgin girls.

Letting the mist and cool humidity cover his skin, Tristan took in a deep breath. It didn’t hurt. His ribs, his torso, the center of his body seemed completely healed. He knew it was because of Minori’s blood. Reaching around his neck, he pulled the shredded tie away and felt for gauze. There was none. Except for his shoes, socks, and bits of his slacks, he was essentially naked.

“Minori, will you help me undress?” He asked and stared up at his lover, trying to focus his mind, give him a purpose other than self destruction. “I want to shower with you... in the rain.” He smiled weakly and pulled the thin man back down toward him, kissing him deeply as he did so.

Minori choked once more and kiss his lover in return, shamed even deeper by his words. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried so hard or when his heart had been in such agony. It must have been ages ago when the one who’d tortured him the most had claimed him for a time. But that didn’t matter now, Tristan did.

Slowly he lifted his head and gently pulled what remained of Tristan’s shirt from his body. He didn’t let his eyes look upon him save other than to remove the clothes and shoes. Once he’d completed the task, he undressed himself, placing his now ruined dark brown and cream, cloud kimono aside upon a crate. Then he backed away a little and bowed, pressing his face to the cold hard ground in humility and submission, awaiting Tristan’s next command or wish.

The rain felt cool and soothing upon his body as if it were there to wash away all the ugly, fowl remnants of his disgraceful outburst. Not knowing why he’d even been so angry, Minor tried to remember it all, tried to make sense of it. He’d never been one to lose his temper, not even as a child, not even when the most cruel and unsavory things had been said or done to him so why now? Why?

All he could remember, clearly anyway, was Daisuke’s hand coming for him and reaching to stop it. He shook with a gasp. “D-did I hurt them as well?” He wished the Kami would damn him here and now, take him away so he couldn’t ever hurt another.

Drawing upon his returning strength he propped himself up, weakly, on his elbow. It pained him to see Minori in such an apologetic position. It was as if Minori suddenly thought of Tristan as no more than a client. Yet he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew that deep down Minori was just lost and needed something to bring him out of the descending spiral of pain and worry.

Without saying anything, even though he knew that’s what his mate was waiting for, he slowly rose to his hands and knees. Crawling, naked and tender and covered in the remains of red gore, he made his way over to his love, who remained still and almost shimmering under the rain. Gently, he rubbed his face along Minori’s back, leaving a dark red trail across the inked Phoenix permanently drawn into the young man‘s skin. Lingering only a few seconds, the red quickly dissipated and washed away.

It was almost down pouring now and Tristan felt himself becoming cleansed. “Minori... I can’t breath...” he whispered and let his hands roam the delicate body, seeking somehow to cling to him in such a way that he could share his existence completely. “Not when your own emotions suffocate you like this... I can’t breathe when you are in pain. Please... tell me what I can do.”

As his hands slid over the precious body he could feel his lover’s pulse change. ‘Are you relaxing... or tensing?’ Desperately wanting to soothe Minori, he pressed soft kisses along the slender tattooed back.

“Do not shy away from me, Minori.” His eyes stung with tears, “It hurts me... more than anything I’ve ever known...” Embracing his Japanese Flower fully he pressed his face into the sopping wet black hair.

Minori tried to shy away from Tristan’s soothing hands but he couldn’t. He tensed, so afraid he’d hurt him again. He didn’t know how he’d lost control so he didn’t know what to do and didn’t know how to answer the question.

He felt Tristan’s face, warm against the chilled autumn breeze and rain. He felt his tears and breath and shivered as Tristan embraced him. He desperately wanted to be held, comforted, to cling to Tristan’s body, but he was so afraid.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, keeping his face pressed into the ground. How could Tristan be so forgiving? How could he look at him, speak to him, want to touch him? He’d almost killed him. Did he truly love him so much to take such horrible things?

Minori couldn’t stand it any longer, the need to bury his face in Tristan’s shoulder and embraced wholly overpowered his shame. He turned and pressed himself against his lover as much as he could, weeping his frustration, confusion, and pain. “I don’t k-know what to do? I-I don’t kno-w what hap-p-pened to me! I’m n-ot like that.”

“Precious, Minori. Gentle, Minori. I’m so sorry.” He stroked the length of the quivering body, his fingers lightly brushing away any remaining blood. “It’s all my fault.” Holding him even tighter he tried to describe something that he himself didn’t yet fully understand.

“It’s the curse of our kind. The devil steals our blood. The good sun destroys us. And we are all connected through an ancient spirit. I don’t really know what else to call it, other than troublesome.” While holding Minori, he willed pleasant thoughts into the terrified mind. Willed calmness into the trembling muscles.

“What you experienced tonight, was the arrival of that ancient spirit and your true birth as a Vampire.” He felt the muscles twitch at the word. “That’s what our kind are called in my homeland. Vampires.”

Letting one hand reach down to cup and caress the smooth rounded flesh of Minori’s ass, he continued, “You are still, you. You are my Minori. That rage, that anger... it was just your body’s natural reaction to being invaded by an ancient consciousness. And it’s not fair... and it’s so painful... and if you let it... it will destroy you... destroy both of us.”

Nuzzling his face and cheek onto Minori, he let his fingers slip between his mate’s lower cheeks. Gently he stroked the ring of muscle that previously devoured him to the hilt. Wanting nothing more than to bring Minori an ounce of relief, he continued to stroke the anus until it puckered so much under his touch that he couldn’t help but slip a finger upward and in.

“I’m so proud of you, my love. Even in the midst of your rage, you tasted me, and knew me and spared me.” Inserting a second finger, he panted happily into Minori’s ear, “You overcame the insanity... you must really want to keep me around... so please, don’t push me away, now that the bad times are over.”

As Tristan began to explain he felt a consoling wave wash over him. He wished deeply with his inner core that Tristan wouldn’t apologize to him it wasn’t his fault. But he didn’t feel he could interrupt so he listened.

Devils he knew of, probably not in the same context as Tristan… Wait, what did he mean by the sun destroying them? Amaterasu, the Sun Kami didn’t destroy people as far as he knew from his mother’s brief lessons. It didn’t make sense to him but his fears and confusion were easing away and Tristan’s voice was so gentle he’d ask the meaning behind later in favor of hearing the musical tone in his ears.
Sprits he understood in a fashion and the more Tristan explain the more at ease he felt aside from part of being invaded. He wasn’t sure he liked such a fact but he didn’t really believe he could do anything to drive such frightening a thing from him. Tristan did say he was still himself so perhaps his true self and this spirit could co-exist inside of him. He’d not let it destroy him and certainly not this wonderful man holding him so close to his heart.

So lost in his thoughts and the beautiful tone of Tristan’s voice he almost didn’t feel Tristan’s hands, his fingers touching him below. Relaxing completely, he savored the sensations of the gentle petting. Then came words of pride and encouragement. The gentle insertion of slender fingers made his lions twitch to life and he nuzzled Tristan’s neck lovingly.

With an erection forming despite the chilled air and cool rain, Minori shifted to give Tristan as easier time, hungry for a little more. He pushed his lower body back to force Tristan’s fingers deeper inside of him and lifted his head so he could peer into the man’s eyes. Strange, before Tristan’s eyes had been such a lovely scarlet yet now they were a beautiful shade of golden amber. Did his eyes change? If so how and why? He’d ask later, it wasn’t terribly important and his eyes were beautiful no matter the color.

A flash of lightening filled the sky but Tristan didn’t even flinch at the bright light and the quick thunder that shook his still fragile core. He was too enthralled staring into Minori’s eyes, finding himself lost to the black pupils. ‘If ever a man was made to be a Vampire, it was Minori.’ The alabaster face, accented sharply with youth and elegance and perfect pitch black hair and eyes; his body already screamed of frightening beauty and mystery.

“Minori...” he asked calmly, his fingers twisting and hunting deep within his love, “How many years did you walk this world alive?” It was just a curiosity really, for whatever Minori’s answer might be, it wouldn’t change anything. Still he wanted to know, in the same way he wanted to know everything there was to know about the young boy who’s face now bore the eager and tormented trepidations of pleasure.
With one hand firmly gripping the Minori’s body to him and the other hand engaging in deep circular thrusts, he smiled sweetly, understanding that such intimate contact would strengthen their bond as well as release Minori from the cycle of self loathing. Again he marveled at how much more he sensed and adored and understood this little Flower, than his own maker.

Gasping softy in wonderment in the way Tristan gazed upon him, like he saw something wonderful and beautiful rather than disgusting and pitiful, Minori gave him a smile. His heart trembled in a different way now, a warm excited way that sent all manner of tickling feeling to his stomach. He’d never felt such a feeling and blushed.
“I’m,” He gasped hard as Tristan’s fingers shifted within him. Ohhh… that was wonderful. “Sixteen,” He finished. Tristan’s fingers went a little deeper and touched his secret sweet spot. “Nggg,” His cock twitched.

‘So young.’ As he thought that, Tristan felt Minori’s rectum shudder suddenly. Slipping in a third finger, which not only increased the tightness around his fingers, but seemed to be the magic number for his adorable Minori, he attacked the place that made his lover quiver and pout.

‘Sixteen... you’ll be sixteen forever.’ He thought and drove his fingers rapidly into Minori’s inner walls. Still gazing into those dark eyes, he was anxious to observe every little expression his mate conjured up while being pleasured.
Crying out softly, Minori kept his eyes locked with Tristan’s. The fingers inside of him found that wonderful place over and over again and he felt as if he might burst. He knew his how his body reacted well enough and knew it was only a matter of… he came, shuddering exquisitely still looking into his lover’s amber eyes. For a moment he could only stare entranced.

Panting and beginning to feel the threads of exhaustion weave over his body’s orgasm he lifted his hand to cup Tristan’s warm cheek. “How old are you?”
It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he was floored with Minori’s absolute control. How did he manage to ride out his pleasure and make such sweet faces, without having to look away? Without having to close his eyes? Even without losing his focus and yet still donning the wildest of passing expressions? How was it possible?

Gently, as if weaning his hand away from Minori’s anus, he slowed the motions of his wrist and let the tightening hole sweetly urge his fingers out. He sensed that a warmth had spread all over his lower belly, but the rain quickly dispensed with this feeling. Smiling kindly, he leaned his face forward enough that their noses touched at the tips.

“I was twenty years old, when I died. And that was just last year.” Strange how one year could feel so torturously long at times and eerily brief at others. “I must apologize, Minori, in advance. For, I, too am just a baby in the eyes of Vampires. I will try my best to guide you, but I still might confuse you at times... might misinform...might disappoint.... and for all of that... I’m already sorry.” Half smiling, half grimacing he hoped he hadn’t sounded too pathetic.
Minori frowned slightly and pulled his head back. He let his fingers trail over Tristan’s skin to his neck and felt for his life beat. It was there and he smiled and kissed the blonde’s lips.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re very much alive.” He kissed him once more then curled up as close as he could possibly get, the warm tickling feeling returning to battle his weariness, and lay his head upon Tristan’s shoulder. In his head he imagined butterflies fluttering about the heads of cranky spirits who wished to take him and make him sleep, this little fracas taking place inside his tummy and smiled.

“I feel very peculiar inside. I think you have some part in it.” He sighed, nuzzling his lover’s neck sleepily. “It is a good and warm feeling. I like it very much.”
Sometimes, Tristan realized as they cuddled in the rain, that it was good to be a Vampire. The icy sheets that pelted them were of little concern to their current comfort. And yet, Tristan, in his humanly way, desired to wrap his lover in something soft and lay him in a bed and treat him like royalty, some Emperor from ancient Japan, or even a deity accidentally trapped in human form.

Guiding his arms around Minori’s frame, he lifted the spent boy and carried him back under the small awning to a place of relative dryness. “You tire so easily.” He smiled quite amused. “Victoria used to tell me, that it was only a foolish Vampire who would waste the night with sleep.” With a slight chuckled he kissed Minori’s closed eyes.

“But I am lucky, because I enjoy watching you sleep. I can share your dreams this way... and your nightmares.” He set Minori down, and then grabbed the blanket that his Flower had previously used as a makeshift bag. Quickly and gently wrapping it around the exhausting Minori, Tristan settled into a protective position, cradling his beloved to his breast.

“I love you, Minori.” He smiled, then continued somewhat unaware that he spoke aloud. “I love you so deeply. So much more than I ever loved Victoria... and she and I spent an entire year together.” He bit his lip, and stroked the damp locks of Minori’s long hair, while wondering if the baby Vampire were already asleep.

The butterflies had been losing to the grumpy sleep spirits until Tristan moved him, carried him out of the rain and wrapped him in the blanket, cradling him. In their happy dance of suddenly gaining the upper hand, his feeling increased, especially as Tristan said he loved him.

Then he heard a name in reference to spending a year and love and felt a little differently. He’d never been jealous in nature, always content with what he had not that it was ever much, or jealous of those around him.

He opened his eyes with a frown. The butterflies suddenly felt sick and passed the feeling on to him. “Who is Victoria?”