Our Pan

((Haywire!!!! :) You realize, that you're the only reason I keep writing this fic. *LOL* I'm such a glutton for positive feedback. And yes! What is the deal with the fact he's completely clueless? Don't worry! I am hoping he figures things out soon!

The more I get into this, the more I'm finding resounding echoes of Wynne Jones and her like. It's sad, finding myself following in footsteps other than my own, but I'm not going to let that get me down! *w*

And that said, do enjoy the next chapter, those of you who're reading! And let me know, eh? What I can do better, how I can make this more enjoyable.

Warning: if you even need one. Somewhat non-con ahead.))

Our Pan

Eyes opening, Gabriel gasps at the sudden dark that has taken over his room. Remembering clearly leaving the light on, he reaches for it once again, not seeing any lights outside either. His hand, rather than meeting with the cold of the lamp, stops as it bumps into something warm.

"Don't," a soft whisper in his head, his ear, his... against his skin. Then warmth across his back that he'd not noticed until now, shifts and he can feel the hand closing over his fingers, drawing his hand back.

Trembling, Gabriel closes his eyes. His chest hurts and there are too few lights, not even streetlights outside are on, there is only starlight shining in through his blinds. Fearfully he turns his head, looking into the shadow where he'd heard the silent call.

There is only shadow there. Ah, and a glitter of eyes, gazing down at him. Warm fingers, real, human fingers, tenderly close complete across his and draw his hand through a faint patch of star lit air into the darkness again. A kiss is set to his knuckles, moist, soft, promising.

"My... my..." Gabriel gasps. His chest is constricting. This is another nightmare.

Something flits against his mind, trying to be taken note of. Something about green grass and boys with dark eyes speaking of Martin. "Martin!" he cries out in fear. He has to find Martin.

A chuckle, droll and patient, flutters against the skin at the back of his hand. It seems sweet, there's a scent, like sweet grass that rings true with him. Only it should be hurting his throat, shouldn't it? This time, it only pains his chest and he whimpers.

At the sound of his pain, arms, long and slender, yet strong, warm, decidedly human, close around him and hold him close as if he were the child he dreamt of. He struggles and yet is at the same time, unable to struggle. Bound by a flaring pain, his throat closes up and he gurgles, fighting for air. The radiation of irritation out of his chest burns, suddenly beating against his chest, slowing his heart down. It is a heart attack.

He sobs. He's not entirely ready to die.

"Don't..don't be afraid," that gentle voice echoes into his body and he's at ease, floating, listening to the labored lub lub of his heart. "Let me... please... Pan... Angel..."

He's distantly aware of his body being unclothed, of fingers deft and certain, undoing buttons, unwinding pajama bottoms down his thighs, breath on his skin, sleeping socks gently rolled off of his ankles. He can feel the warmth and silken sensation of cotton sheets against his lower back, his shoulder blades, his ass, the backs of his legs. But it's all so far away, so like a dream.

Only this is no dream. His mind fights to discover what is forbidden, what it is kept from, he wants to shout against it, but the moment he begins to struggle inside of himself, a kiss is placed to his chest, just right of his heart, and another whisper slides into him like balm to a bird's terror in the hand of a child, "Shhh... don't be afraid. Let me. Just let me, angel."

The kiss melts into his skin and he sighs out, too exhausted and drunk from the smell in the room, the smell of skin, the smell of promising sex, that he cannot worry about if he'll ever get back the breath he'd just released.

"You have to trust me, my sweet. Trust your guard. Trust me now." Gabriel can't understand why there's a tone of desperation in that voice. It sounds so concerned, so worried. Then, it is a gentle voice and he sighs the last of his air out, drowsily giving in to the voice, trusting.

"There, there..." he can't feel any longer. His body is distant now, far, far away. The voice is slipping past as well. He thinks he can hear a calling, a name, but it's not his. It's not his name.

"Pan.. Pan... Pan... listen to me. You must listen to me. Oh please, please.. I won't lose you again. Listen to me!"

No. There is no Pan here. There is only Gabriel. Dr. Chelsea to others. And he will be a nonexistent doctor soon. His heart is slowing. He feels an insane desire to giggle. Only he can't. he hasn't the air to do it.

"NO!" pain rips through his body. Gabriel gasps in horror, fear filling him. It's not the only thing filling him. His chest feels as if something in it breaks. He screams out in pain and every cell of his body works to repel the invasion. Something painful, he can smell blood, can feel wet on his face, and his pelvis seems as if it's filled with fire. The single word is not his own but the scream is. He trembles, mind reaching for what is happening, what is going on. There is a light on at his side, his room is quiet, his eyes wide, stare at the ceiling and it takes him a moment to sense the arms holding him, the weight upon him, the...

"FUCK!!" he tries to get away. Horror at having some thing up his ass, he can't be sure what, but it hurts like hell and he's too weak. His heart beats erratically in his chest as he claws at the unyeilding back over him. His attacker's head buried into his neck. He can only sense that he's been entered, can only feel a terrific wash of shame. He's not one to be raped, to be taken, to.. where the hell is he? What was he supposed to be doing? Could it have been a drug? Had someone spiked the tea?

Tea... He freezes. He hadn't drunk the tea. He'd spilled it on himself though. And it had hurt. It had burned. Only he couldn't feel the burn.

Limp, he lays there, shock taking over, wondering why he thinks his heart might have stopped at some point of time. It's working just fine now. And his attacker has yet to move. He shudders in revulsion as he slowly can begin to attend to the words said against his neck, hot and foul... fearful...

"...couldn't do it any other way. I'm so sorry. I had to. Please... please trust me, Angel. Please trust me.. didn't mean to hurt you." Hands were stroking his sides, kisses, soft and sweet, touching his neck. Gabriel wanting nothing more than to be released, feels his skin crawling. "Didn't want to hurt you, Pan.. didn't want to hurt you... please..."

Making his arms move seems almost impossible. But his newly revived heart springs into action and floods his muscles with liquid. He weakly grabs at the dark head of hair next to his chest and pulls on it. He makes no sound, only weakly tries to lift the head. And as if knowing what it means, the head lifts obligingly.

"You.." Gabriel licks his lips, trying to breathe, staring up into storm swept grey eyes, tinged in the centers with hazel roots, like looking at a moon through the branches of an ancient oak. "Martin..."

The man over him, eyes filled with tears, says nothing. He waits, his body tense. Gabriel can feel at the saying of the name, how the cock inside of him twitches and fills, probably growing more aroused. Only it hurts. He can't do this. But neither can he comprehend how a comatose man can be in his room and why the lights are on.

"I.. I don't understand," he whimpers and then bites his lower lip as Martin.. or whatever it is, slowly pulls out of him.

"Don't understand," a voice says and Gabriel isn't sure who's it is. "Just be... just be, my Angel." Lips descend once more, touching his neck, his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his nose, missing his mouth but touching to the corners.

"This is ..." Gabriel struggles to make sense of the dream he finds himself in, the reality that is turning rancid around him, refusing to accept the new aspects of man, of heart, of rape, of... he gasps as heat surrounds his nipple and teeth graze, lightly across. Without meaning to, he reaches for that dark hair and tangles his fingers into it. So soft, silken.

It's like a fire, though unlike and far from the fire that had been on his chest. He arches his back into the touch, clenching into the black locks as that alien mouth slowly travels down his chest, licking at his abdomen, at the ridges of muscle, dipping into his navel. "Ah!" a soft sound and hands rest on his thighs, delve between, and part his legs without any hesitation or uncertainty on his part. All he knows is that this feels right. He shouldn't like it, of course. He shouldn't care. It's just... so...

"That's it," that voice, Gabriel dives into the warmth of it, something loving, enveloping him in it's warmth. "That's it... I remember. I remember how you taste, my love. I know how you liked this... how you will have missed it.." phrases each ended with a soft kiss on inner thigh, on belly, finally on the tip of his penis. Gabriel finds himself beyond words, not that he'd had enough to begin with.

He lets go the hair and reaches above his head, grasping the pillow as suddenly he's swallowed, furnace and soft lips taking him completely. Writhing, pain long forgotten, Gabriel hasn't time to remember himself, to recall or try and sift through his memories. Everything is too fast, too quick, too hot.

Gabriel has had lovers, both men and women. And while he's enjoyed the men more, it was never more than a simple matter of taste. He's always enjoyed the sense of a man knowing the pleasure he gives. And when this particular man takes him deep, swallowing him completely, and hums in a delight... when Gabriel suddenly correlates the rhythmic sound he's been hearing as that of another person masturbating.. masturbating to the sounds of his pleasure, it becomes too much.

With a strangled shout, Gabriel erupts into the other's mouth, his body going tense with the perfection. He shudders, hips held by strong hands as he ejaculates, held tenderly nevertheless.

Then just before it becomes too sensitive, too painful, his cock is laid gently to rest with a final cleansing lick, fingers trail down his legs, a kiss is set to just inside his knee. The pleasant haze he's in doesn't lift and he only remotely knows that his lover has gotten up, has left him.

When he opens his eyes, sunlight streams through the window and he's dressed. Gabriel searches for a dream he can sense just on the outskirts. As he sits up, he winces, a pain in his ass. And the pain reminds him of something... but it all seems hazy, half forgotten. He thinks to himself that he should write it down in his dream journal, but right after thinking that, he forgets what he would have written down. And feeling as if his world is swiftly turning into something surreal and dream like in and of itself, he stands and walks, sore and confused, into the bathroom to wash away the traces of semen against his lower legs.