Fallen Blood Roses

Chapter 6

Gripping the leather strap, he nealt near James\' ear, "No flying..." he hissed, and saying nothing else left the room.... James merely growled in rage. This had been no game, but simply discipline. Michael had been angrier than he believed. James fought against the tears stinging his eyes. Rage filled him, nearly boiling over as he heard Michael lock him in.... James let the anger leave him, and dove into the folds of his past....



"James, your father wishes to see you," Marie, his mother\'s nursemaid interrupted his solace. James quickly brushed himself off, and hide his watercolors inside his oak desk. His father despised artistry, thought painters were loose of mind, with little direction, needing colors, hues, and shapes to make sense of their pitiful and warped existence. Writers, he said were arrogant dreamers, creatures so wrapped up in their own words and egos that they held contempt for the world outside their mind.....



James was all of these things, a dreamer, a painter, and a fervent writer.... His own work he didn\'t value, burning it weekly, so as never to arouse suspicions to the fact that instead of studying Latin, he was devoting himself to a practice of extreme \'vanity\'. Statesmanship, his father valued... Admiral of the Armed Guard, his father spend most of his time away. James was thankful for that, for his father\'s temper was explosive, and his own matched it.... Sighing, he thought back to his previous plots to kill his father... Over and over he dreamed of how it would be done, the consequences, how it would effect his dear, sweet but weak mother... Time, had passed, and the idea had finally fleeted him. His father would pass away in his own time, if battle didn\'t claim him, his ulcers would... James wiped his mouth, and finally closed the desk top down hard.... It sounded throughout the room, echoing against the ivory walls...



A cough exploded from the entrance of his room.. James turned around, staring directly at his father. Still in uniform, Armand crossed the overly plushy room of his only son. Carpets covered the hard floors, pastel colors abounded, cushions and musical instruments were strung around. It looked like the bedchamber of a young courtesan, and not the dwelling place of the son of an Admiral. None the less, Armand loved his son deeply, wanting the best for him, and although the fact that he knew he was a dreamer, a time waster, a writer of lymmerics and nonsensical fiction, he wished him success in any way it came..



"James..." his voice boomed. James stared directly at him, and together momentarily they stared at each other soundlessly.. "I am going away again," he stammered. "How long," James interrupted. "Not very long," Armand replied. "You mother, as you know isn\'t well..and well, I need you James," his father pleaded. James looked at him again, with sudden interest, his long eyelashes fluttered softly, "Why? What good am I father?" he whispered. "What good? Extremely good my son. Please, let the past die between us. I leave you here in a house full of women and servants, and need for you to ensure the family\'s survival. I may perish before this war is done, or may come back incompetent, assume me my son, that I will have something to come back to," he pressed, his voice heaving with emotion. James finally moved closer, pressing his hand on his father\'s right shoulder, and staring into his dark eyes, the lines on his face, for the first time making him feel sympathy toward the man he jokingly called the toy soldier. "Father, You will come back, and I promise you will have something to come back to. If it takes every fiber of my being, I will assure you at least that," he stammered. His father\'s eyes smile, and awkwardly, together they embraced. James breathed in, smelling the admiral\'s combination of tobacco and peppermint...



James sat upon his bed hours later, having dismissed the servants to their quarters, leaving a few to guard the entrances to their floor. He ran his hair through his dark curls, and finally exhausted by his thoughts, locked his door, and pressed his face into the soft pillow....



The lock sounded, and James jumped up, sitting up, his back against the headboard. A hooded figure entered the room, with a tray of fruit. Silently, it placed the tray down and then locked the door back behind him. "Pardon me?" James stammered. "Leave the food and be gone," he mummered. The hooded figure laughed, and pushed back the material that covered their face. "James.. its me", Michael laughed... Bringing the fruit to the bed, he lay beside James. Removing the soft sheets from his shoulders, Michael climbed on him, staring down at his smooth back, licking his skin, Michael bit at him gently, James moaned under neath him, suddenly, he twisted, grabbing Michael, pinning him down to the bed. Quickly, he stripped him, tearing apart his leggings, reaching for a small pillow, he shoved it under Michael... Micheal strained and reached into his bed side table, handing James a bottle. Michael sighed as he felt the cold lube slide down his body, James massaged his skin, "I love you Michael" he stammered. Michael smiled, not replying, mumbling something indiscrenable instead. His hips were suddenly lifted up, as James slammed his entire length into him. Michael groaned as James lifted his body with every quick thrust.... Deeper and deeper he went, all the while whispering sickly sweet poetry. If it wasn\'t so good, Michael would have scoffed at his corniness.... Faster and faster James kept going, not stopping, Michael pondered if he ever would. James grabbed him flipping him to the side, and continuing... "Ohhh..god..yes," Michael screamed. "@#$% me..@#$% me hard....@#$% my @ss James, " he moaned. Michael reached for his member, rubbing himself up and down, as he felt Jame\'s body shutter, going faster, his strength filling him completely, as he yearned to come simultaneously.... James roared as he continued, "Oh god...Oh god..Michael..so tight," Michael yearned for his hotness to explode inside of him, and shuddered as he roared in his own ecstasy. His hair clung to the sweat on his face, closing his eyes, he panted with James\' rhythm, finally calming as his liquid finally filled him.



James stayed inside of him still pulsating slightly, slowly he pulled out, Michael pressed his lips against his, bitting into their perfect cusps, forcing his tongue into his mouth. James smiled as Michael rolled him slowly onto his back..... Coldness hit his skin, the liquid falling between his crevices, Michael suddenly reached for his arm, pulling James off the bed, and toward his large ashen desk. James bent over it willingly, his stomach being pressed against the hard wood.... James stared out of the small window, rain came down quickly, beating against the pane, turning everything into a dark grey whirl, the scent wafted through the cracks, filling his nostrils with the smell of fresh grass and sea air.....