The True Mate

A/N: Co-written by Crimson Lantern as Minori and Tangent Rain as Tristan

Chapter Seven:

Minori’s heart clenched inside his chest as Tristan rose, tying his kimono, and left. For some reason Tristan’s actions shocked him. They shouldn’t, other’s had left after fulfilling their desire but none that he’d ever wanted to stay. Was it something he’d said? Was it because he’d moved away? He’d not meant… to offend him.

Maybe… maybe what he’d felt a few moments ago had been wrong. Perhaps the man who haunted him from his past had been correct. Perhaps he was broken and only good for satisfying sexual needs and nothing more.

Minori shook his head. No! He refused think that of Tristan. What he’d felt was real and true. No one could counterfeit the real thing, real love. Not even the most experienced and professional geisha.

But what to do? What could he do to take the sorrow from his lover’s eyes? Making love wasn’t always a cure all. It didn’t matter how good the act was, some things just weren’t erased. Sometimes words were, sometimes a touch, or a kiss, sometimes just being there. He’d wait, he decided; wait to see if Tristan returned to him. Then he’d ask for forgiveness and they would talk.

Carrying the half-naked man in his arms and feeling disgusted at having to hold him thusly, Tristan walked back toward the room where he sensed his lover's heart still beating. 'I'm glad he stayed... glad he is so patient with me.' Approaching the door, he heard the man moan in pain -- and of course he was in an extraordinary amount of it. Only moments ago Tristan had brutally, and without the numbing use of thrall, broken both of the man's arm legs.

Turning the knob, then pushing it open, Tristan threw the man into the air, letting him bounce and roll, his useless appendages flailing around his body. Generous red globs spilled from the man's mouth as his rag-doll form finally come to a stop near the futon.

Closing the door and relocking it, Tristan moved swiftly and threw himself at Minori's feet, pressing his forehead to the soft flesh, bending down and mimicking the pose Minori had done in the street in the rain. Tristan recognized the humility in this pose and wanted desperately to let his unworthiness become something tangible, so that he might shed it from himself.

"Minori!" He said, his voice a bit desperate. "Minori, please... forgive me... I was too ashamed to face you. Because I hurt you. I forced you to relive a moment of pain, a moment when others used you for nothing more than shallow satisfaction. Please, forgive me." His teeth retracted, thankfully, because he ached to cry, and now sweet release was granted and his tears wetting Minori's toes.

Tenderly kissing those small toes, Tristan felt wholly debased and wonderful. 'I would suffer any punishment, if given by this man. I almost want punishment from him... crave it... for it would be pure.'

"I have brought you a gift. But it is not sweet. Rather it is a bitter offering, nothing like what I would love to lavish upon you." Moving with his face still toward the ground, he grabbed the man around his neck and jerked him forward, laying him prone between the vampires. "If you inhale deeply, Minori, you will smell his guilt. The aroma of innocent flesh still lingers on his. And scent of the pain and fear he caused that flesh... I'm sure it is a very familiar odor to you."

He dared at that moment to lift his eyes and hoped Minori couldn't read them. He didn't want to tell his lover what he'd found in that room only ten doors away. Easily he’d over powered the lock, had entered the dimly lit room, to see soft brown eyes peeking out from beneath the covers. A young girl, shaking in shame from wounds that ran deeper than her rapist's manhood, peered at him so hopefully. He’d approached her without making a single noise, he’d felt rather like a long awaited guardian angel, sent to deliver her from the middle aged man beside her in the bed. Tristan had hated the man immediately, hated that this shabby creature sank to such base desires, hated that he lay there, spent off her body, without even trying to make recompense by granting any sign of loving embrace.

'She can't be any older than, six or seven... she's as old as... my sister.' Tristan had thought as he’d sat, almost weightlessly on the bed and gathered the enthralled girl into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She was naked and still bleeding from between her legs. Tilting her chin upward he’d pressed his lips to hers, in an innocent, brotherly kiss, then lowered his mouth to her neck. His sister's image hung heavy on his heart as his fangs descended and punctured the girl's skin.

'I will grant you peace, little one. Through sweet death.' It had not taken him long to drain the girl completely, but her blood had been terribly refreshing. All the while he’d kept her in the deepest thrall he could manage; manipulating her last memories, cleansing her of the memory of what horrors had befallen her body.

He’d spared no such thrall on the man, however. And even as he pinned the man between himself and Minori, if it wasn't for the fact that Tristan had also removed the man's tongue, he would be screaming in pure human reaction to the situation unfolding around him.

Minori felt Tristan coming, sensed his presence faintly but it had been enough to ease his troubled heart. He’d full intended to apologize to his beautiful blonde lover when the door to their room opened and the words died upon his lips. If he’d been stunned before, he was doubly now as he watched a thing of a man fly into the air like some hated toy to land neat their bed and near his feet.

Wide-eyed with alarm of such a violent display, he almost missed the scent of blood in the air, blood that made his stomach ache in hunger. He cast his eyes to the man upon the floor as Tristan came to him. He’d seen broken legs before, both of this stranger’s were and the blood, it was oozing from the stranger’s mouth. The look in his eyes was terrified horror, pleading with Minori for salvation.

Speechless, Minori watched his lover kiss his feet, listened to him speak, felt his tears, saw the blood upon his hands. He would have taken his lover into his arm and told him not to apologize had the situation been any different for he was loathed to see tears upon Tristan’s face. But this… this was awful.

“Tristan…” He breathed. He wasn’t unfamiliar with acts of violence having been on the receiving end, having seen them first hand and been hurt by them, and having shamefully committed one himself just hours before. It wasn’t something he enjoyed bearing witness too, it wasn’t something he’d ever want to do again and it certainly wasn’t something he’d ever expected or would have guessed someone so kind as Tristan could manage. However, it went to show how little he really knew of his lover with the displayed offering now resting between them.

The man let out a pitifully sickening cry, blood bubbling from his mouth and trickling down the sides of his face to touch the bed.

Deeply upset and hurt that his lover would go to such extremes for his sake Minori opened his mouth, “I never thought you would be capa…” He faltered as his nose caught a new scent, an all too familiar one however faint. This scent of sex wasn’t the beautiful kind, not the sweet scent that lingered behind after he and Tristan made love. No this was the scent of a vile act.

Bitter memories began to surface again and as they rose so did his inner turmoil and anger and oddly enough a terrible fear. Gasping, he jerked his feet away and scrambled back upon the futon. “Get him away from me, please Tristan!”

Immediately obeying, Tristan turned his body and dragged the man so that he was away from the bed, and away from his dearest Flower. Moving closer to Minori, on his hands on knees, gingerly approaching like a docile cat, Tristan gently pressed his face to Minori's neck and chest.

"That man... is filth. No different than those who brought you similar pain. But, Minori... the men who hurt you in the past... they will never hurt you again. You are a Vampire. You cater to no one, you suffer no one's whims, and you will never have to be afraid of 'filth.' We are above it." As he spoke he felt his face flush. Never before had he expressed pride in his new race. Usually he felt only bitterness and loathing at always having to lurk in the darkness, and always hoping his next kill would be his last.

'You really have changed me, my love. And I'm terrified by it. I never wanted to be a Vampire, yet now I seem to finally grown into my fangs. I kill without a second thought, all for the sake of feeding you, keeping you, pleasing you. Even sweetly taking the life of one with so many years yet to live.'

"And also, Minori. You have me." He lifted his face to gaze into the black eyes, so filled with confusion and terror. "I will protect you... forever." The look on Minori's face... impossible to read, even with their connection growing by leaps and bounds. Though he didn't know what to make of the multi-layered mortified expression, he lost all hope of ever hearing the words, 'I love you,' issue from those sweet lips. 'And still... I will never stop loving you you.'

Moving backwards, Tristan turned from Minori and knelt, so that he was facing the man, who grumbled and choked on his own blood.

"I wanted to show you, Minori, what kind of beast I've become. Because there can be no secrets between us." Freely crying now, though making no sound, he reached down and laid his hand on the man's thigh, close enough that his fingers nearly touched the filthy genitalia. "I don't ever want to hurt you, Minori. But I won't hesitate for a second to destroy any creature that brings you suffering."

Moving his hand slowly, and gripping the man's penis tightly in his fingers, he spoke again, "If I ever find the men who brought you such unhappiness... who scarred your lovely soul... I will repay them with pure terror." And in the following second, he jerked upward, removing the manhood so swiftly, that the mutilated creature didn't even become aware of it until a thin line of blood fell upon his chest, spurting up from the ghastly wound.

Turning to face his lover, Tristan's face fell into disarray. Tears poured from his eyes, his brows creased in anger and sorrow, and his lips quivered. "And if ever it is I, who brings pain, I ask that you do even worse to me." Holding his hand out toward Minori, his fingers trembling, he waited, hoping his lover would come to him, hoping he would be forgiven. "Minori, this man wants absolution. He wants to do one honorable thing before he dies... which will be soon. So, please, hurry. He wants to give you his blood.

Horror stricken, Minori couldn’t move. He could only stare in appallingly sick fascination as his lover spoke and maimed the vile man just a few feet away. Some where inside of him, something delighted in seeing such things happen to someone so immoral and filthy. That part of him rejoiced in it, leaped and danced to finally see someone so cruel be brought to justice.

However, his heart was repulsed and frightened by such a display and in that moment he understood what he was. It didn’t make since really, the way it fell into place. He was a creature who would spend the rest of his life feeding off others for the sake of his own survival. What a cruel realization.

And the last bit of him screamed in terror. Tears trickled down his cheeks as his heart broke in a different way, a frightened way. Bile rose from his stomach and he couldn’t bear to look at the dying man upon the floor. He couldn’t… he just couldn’t! He had to stop this!

As soon as moved the bile attacked him savagely, swimming up his throat from his stomach and out through his mouth. He wretched hard, his body aborting his eel and wine supper in a warm sickening mess with a stench so powerful it nearly knocked him from his knees.

But it was over soon enough and he lifted his tear ridden eyes to his lover, his body shaking, his lips trembling as he spoke. “I cannot, I will not!” He shouted. “And neither should you!”

Minori crawled toward his lover, his hands and knees slipping slightly upon the blood splatter that covered the floor. As he reached Tristan, he took his face in his hands. “You’re so much better than this… So much stronger. I won’t let you damage yourself on such a vile creatures. I won’t let your spirit darken and become a demon beast, not for me. Never for me, never for you, never for anyone else. There are other ways Tristan,” he kissed his lover’s lips and quickly, before Tristan could protest, he lifted the head of the dying man and yanked it to the side quickly; breaking his neck in the only act of mercy he could stand.

“There will be no more of this.”

He sensed the life force of the man he had tortured suddenly sever. But he ignored the terrible waste of food. Instead he let Minori's voice lead him away from the sickness that had overwhelmed him. 'What made me do this? Was it fear... from Minori... from that little girl... from myself? Why did I go so far? Mutilation. Very different from a simple feeding. I really am... of the devil.'

He sobbed into Minori's shoulder and hair, as he remembered Victoria's words. "I'm cursed, Minori." A small voice cried out.

Clinging to his lover, still high from his earlier taste of the young girl's blood, he thought it awfully disgusting of him to pose as a guardian angel to one victim and unleash nothing less than demoniac fury to another. "That's not... who I am. I've never done anything like this before... I'm so sorry.... Minori.... please don't hate me," his eyes burned from the tears and his voice, a crackling pathetic mess, seemed grossly unnatural coming from a man, a Vampire, who had just done such terrible deeds.

Minori wrapped his arms around his love tightly, petting his hair, and rocked him like one would a frightened child. How strange that their positions had suddenly reversed. But no matter the cause of such an event, it was important for him to gain back some of his calm, to be here for Tristan and understand as Tristan had for him. The only hopeful aspect about this was, he did understand and because he understood, he felt he knew someway of helping.

Kissing his love’s hair, Minori held him tighter. “No, not cursed. I don’t hate you, how could I hate you when you are so dear to me?” He lifted Tristan’s face, holding it gently yet firmly in his hands. In doing so he felt a sense of calm creep into his body and soothe his nearly gutted nerves. “We have to help each other control the demons inside of us. Together we’ll be safe, I won’t let you fall. I don’t know you so well, but I want too. I want to know everything there is to know about you. I want to be here for you when you’re upset and give you comfort. I want to share the things that make you happy. Please don’t cry, I’m here and I’m not leaving.” He smiled. “I’m not afraid of you, you shouldn’t be either.”

As his lover soothed him, he wondered again what had stimulated such demented behavior. He thought perhaps, that this was truly what being a Vampire meant; calculated treachery played out for personal entertainment and shallow satisfaction. And if that was the case, then he truly was no better than the men who'd paid to rape Minori. But it wasn't for shallow pleasure that he mangled that man's body. It was necessary, in his mind, to introduce that lustful being to true pain. 'It was... my duty.'

Realizing this, he knew that he wasn't bluffing when he said that he would deliver pure terror upon anyone who hurt his Minori. In fact, he believed it more now than ever, for this latest victim had not even harmed his lover -he'd simply been similar in nature to those who had- and that was enough to send Tristan into a new level of Vampiric cruelty.

"I won't be afraid, Minori. Not for you or I. But I do fear, Minori, that if someone were to hurt you, I would indeed destroy them. When I touch your body I can feel the memory of it's pain and misuse. Oh God, please... I never want to be like them. I would walk into broad day before I let myself hurt you."

Suddenly pressing his ear to Minori's chest he listened to his lover's heartbeat. It was strong. Strong enough for now... but soon Minori would have to feed, and, after this horror, Tristan wondered if his lover would ever be able to sup freely, un-plagued by memories of this day. Would he ever be able to feed on his own? 'It doesn't matter. I'll feed you, Minori... as long as you want me too. I do not mind being devoured by such precious lips.'

"Minori. I love you." He said, his voice returning to it's deeper tenor. "I want to be with you forever. You are right, my love, if we... are together, we'll keep each other whole." Letting his tongue trace the soft lines of Minori's firm chest, he finally found the taut nipple. "I love you, Minori." He said and kissed and sucked, barely getting to know it, before moving upward. "I love you." It was the only thing he could say now, and so he clung to it, saying it over and over. Kissing the swan-neck of the most beautiful and kind being that ever graced existence, he spoke it again: I love you. If he knew any other language, any other dialect, or even how to sign words with his hands, he would have used them all to repeat and repeat this mantra.

'I know I was content before... to wait for your returned love... content to woo you... but my heart is beating so fast right now, it's so thoroughly fed, and now only craves one last thing.... your eternal love...'

As he wrapped his arms around Minori, he pressed them toward the futon, away from the dead thing. Gently he turned Minori, so that his elegant Phoenix was pressed to Tristan's chest. Holding him thus, he continued to kiss and taste the soft body, exploring the shoulders and back of the neck.

"I love you.... I love you...." He continued, each time drenching the words in deeper earnest. Letting his fingers dance over his naked Flower, his exposed angel, his salvation, he wanted nothing more than to share with him, the sweetly taken blood of the innocent and abused child from the other room.

'Minori needs to feed, and he'll appreciate her blood more than the filth that now rots inside the man who was killed far too graciously.' While holding Minori close to him, spooning against the pale body, his loose robe their only barrier, both of them on their knees, his hips slightly grinding forward desperate for every part of him to be connected to his lover, he whispered huskily, "I love you, Minori."

Gracefully his lifted his wrist to his mouth and, extending his fangs only for an instant, he sliced deeply into his own flesh, then held it humbly before Minori's lips. 'Please... take something sweet, to erase the bitter.'

Minori closed his eyes, listening to his lover’s words. He’d never heard someone say they loved another person so much at one time and he knew it was true. Every time it was said, each touch made him feel warmer, softer, and happy. So much so he followed Tristan’s lead, let him turn him around next to the bed.

As soon as his lover began grinding into him from behind, he let out a shaken wanton cry. He’d once hated this position, being on his knees like a dog, but one day not too long ago, Daisuke had shown him the beauty and pleasure of it, and he’d loved it ever since.

He smelled Tristan’s blood and opened his eyes to find his lover’s wrist inches from his face. His stomach cried out for it, the eerie sensation of growing in his mouth came yarned for it. However, he was entirely too uncomfortable with the stranger in the room, too self conscious of the lingering spirit watching them. To him, making love with Tristan, even feeding from him was sacred, privet, and to be shared with no one else.

Gently he pushed his lover’s hand away and slipped from his warm, beautiful body. “Not yet, first we clean up the mess. I’d rather drink from you and make love with you, then fall asleep curled up in your embrace without company still here and without knowing there’s something left to do.”

'Drink from me... make love with me...' Tristan willed his wrist to heal before any more of that innocent blood left him. Without words he moved away from Minori... it was absolute torture to leave the warm and feelings of arousal that pulsed all over Minori's skin and deep within his soul.

Obediently Tristan returned toward the deceased creature that littered their room. Hastily, but thoroughly, he wrapped the body in a blanket from the bed, then lifted it, unceremoniously onto his shoulder and headed to the door. 'He still wants me... he still wants to make love to me, still wants to taste my blood, after I made such a fool of myself. I long for the moment I hear his thoughts freely... I long for the moment... he tells me he truly loves me too.'

With a racing heart, he approached the tenth door. The Inn was starting to stir now, as the morning turned late and neared the noon time. Quickly moving to avoid any eyes in the corridor, he opened the door and brought the body forward. He refused to lay him on the bed, next to the peaceful child, who lay still and pale, with her arms folded over her chest reverently and innocently offering her spirit into the afterlife.

Dropping the man to the floor, he went once more to the girl. Leaning down he pressed a kiss onto her cold lips and prayed for her to find peace. He often wondered if the souls of those he supped upon became trapped in their sickly shells and never found heaven or hell. Looking at her now, he deeply wanted to believe she had left the horrors of the world and was now nestled in the breast of eternal comfort... wherever that may be... a place he would never know.

Minori watched Tristan leave then pulled on his discarded kimono and went in search of some cleaning materials. It would do them no good to have to lay there and smell the blood and vomit left behind by such a frightening display.

Down in the small nearly bare kitchen which was thankfully devoid of life, he found a bucket of water, a cleaning detergent, and rags. He also found a small box of sandalwood incense. It wouldn’t completely cover up the smells, but it would be enough to manage and it wouldn’t make him nauseous.

Returning back to the room, he began to clean as quickly and efficiently as he could, scrubbing the floors. Judging from the dirt he managed to also bring up he’d say the inn staff hadn’t exactly been keeping the rooms as clean as they should have.

While he worked, setting such annoying thoughts of unclean places and good and proper ways of doing business, another thought came to him. He wondered what it was about Tristan that could calm him from even the most frightening of things? Was it Tristan’s desperate need to be needed and understood? Or was it that he just couldn’t bear to see him weep? By all accounts he should have been terrified of Tristan after his loss of control, he’d have been had it been anyone else. But for some peculiar reason he felt safer with Tristan than anyone else in the world.

Perhaps it was because Tristan had touched him in a way no one else could. Perhaps it was because Tristan seemed eager to love him no matter what. Perhaps it was because Tristan was just so different than anyone else, so learned, would explain things to him and not try to hide anything from him. Perhaps it was all of those reasons in addition to a caring hand.

There had only been one other in his life who’d ever attempted to love him as Tristan did. However, Daisuke had been instant, demanding sometimes, pried too much, wanted to share their sexual encounters with others, and honestly in the end, even with having him in his bed he could only feel toward Daisuke as one would a dear elder brother. That didn’t sit to well with him. It didn’t matter now, he had Tristan and Tristan had him.

Finishing up with floor, almost gagging as he wiped away his own vomit, Minori placed the bucket inside the small closet and slide the door shut. He’d dispose of it properly before they left since he could feel Tristan returning. That was a wonderful feeling to feel, to know when the one person you wanted to see was coming back to you.

Quickly he lit a few cones of the incense and slipped out of his kimono. Then he crawled upon the futon and waited. As his lover entered and closed the door behind him, he smiled and motioned for him to come. He said nothing until Tristan sat in front of him. “I missed you,” And to make him happy and to help soothe his lover’s troubled heart, he shifted to his knees and licked one of his nipples, teasing it, before sinking the growing teeth into his breast, and drank.

A soothing smell surrounded him. It was so different than the smell of gore. As if in a trance, Tristan was drawn to Minori, who waited expectantly upon the bed, signaling him forth. It might have been thrall... or utter willingness to behave, either way Tristan found himself kneeling before his lover, the robe slit widened to expose his nipple, as slender fingers prepared the feeding site.

'I missed you too.' He thought and arched his back, pressing his chest forward into the warm tongue and teeth. 'His fangs, so new and so sharp, are almost like tiny kisses entering my very essence.' Tristan let his head roll limply about his shoulders. His body flooded with the transference of heat, and he became erect, the tip of his penis nosing it's way beyond the folds of the robe.

"Haaaa..." he groaned softly. 'I already burn to enter him, and we just made love not an hour ago. But I don't want him to feel pressured. If he's tired... I don't want to force him... I just want to love him...' And then he was seized with sudden fear, 'What if I'm too demanding... what if remind him of someone else again... of one of them?' His whole body swayed with the tender pulsations of blood leaving him and entering another. "Oh God, Minori..." he whispered and yearned for his lover to bite a bit harder, suck a bit more commandingly, and really claim him.

Minori chuckled softly, delighted to have done something to help his lover, even if it was taking something but giving pleasure in return. He wrapped his arms around Tristan and pulled him closer, sucking a little harder for just a moment more. It didn’t take much or that long at all; he never was one to eat much and became full quickly.

Slowly, he drew his hands up upon their finger tips and traced them around Tristan’s rib cage as he lapped up the wound he’d made. Then he turned his hands around and slid the backs up along his lover’s chest, all the while lifting his head level with Tristan’s. Leaning closer, he whispered in his ear in his native tongue: “My gentle warrior, make a home within me.”

He nipped Tristan’s ear then lowered his head, opening his mouth to let his tongue tease his Lover’s at attention manhood.

'I wish to God I knew Japanese!' Those words were so beautiful... perhaps they were the words he'd been waiting to hear. Before he could really digest them, he felt Minori's tongue leave his red and swollen nipple.

"My beautiful harbor." He said deeply, then he gasped and arched his back even further, as Minori's tongue found the cherry tip of his eager erection.

"I've never... felt anything like this..." he voiced his realization. Even though he could have said the same for most of the activities that he and Minori had engaged in, this one was different, because it was something that was meant only for him. Everything else had been a shared physical pleasure, or something Tristan meant only for Minori. And now... he was receiving that which he had given and he had to wonder if he had been anywhere near this attentive and marvelous when he had explored Minori's manhood in the same fashion.

The soft lips encircled him, they felt so different than the contracted mouth of Minori's anus. These lips gently massaged his member, drawing out subtle pleasure while at the same time, that firm and warm muscle, Minori's tongue, delivered sharp pangs of erotic delight. It was... overwhelming, and Tristan's thighs began to shake. "Ngh... Mi...Minori... oh God...nnnn!" He moaned and writhed and his chest felt tight, and each breath seemed to stretch him, opening him to a whole new realm of sensation.

'I'm so glad that I chose to please him with my mouth before experiencing it from him… or I would have buried my face in shame and never even have attempted such a thing. Even now I feel that he surely was laughing at my pathetic efforts... for nothing I did, could possibly feel like what he's doing now!' Such thoughts raced through his mind as his spine seemed to bend further and further until it simply broke and he slumped forward, wrapping his arms down and around his Flower, who's mouth never faltered, even as Tristan continued to quiver.

"You are... you... are so wonderful... auuuah....you are.... precious...!" he panted and kissed all over the black hair that hid Minori's gorgeous eyes from his view. While clutching gently at the dark strands, his body jerking in response to his lover's mouth taking him in deeper and deeper, he began to subconsciously finger comb Minori's hair.

In quick but trained and gentle motions he combed the silken strands downward and outward, delicately, in the midst of mind warping pleasure, covering the pale skin and tattoo with perfectly spaced black tendrils. "I love you..." his chest was heaving, but he somehow managed to calm himself enough to speak the phrase that he was sure Minori was growing awfully tired of hearing.

Minori was thankful for the praise but nearly melted as his lover professed his love for him. He wished he could say in return but he didn’t dare until he was one hundred percent sure he meant it. It would be cruel otherwise, not to say what one meant in situations such as this. Of course he certainly had growing feelings for Tristan, a deep fondness but it wasn’t enough for him to lie. He wanted his eyes to shine when he said it, wanted Tristan to feel it radiating off him and when he did say it, when he was completely sure, he’d do something he never thought he’d ever get the chance to do, something that would bind them forever.

And thinking of something he desired to do that he never thought possible, he tried to purr. It was rather difficult to juggled his attention upon his lover’s throbbing, leaking cock and attempt something he didn’t know how to go about doing. So when he became frustrated enough with himself he decided upon an, in the past, effect alternative.

Minori took Tristan deep, down his throat, and hummed. The trembling in his lover’s legs intensified so he continued to hum as he slowly lifted his head and took him back in again and his lover’s voice was like music to his ears.

In out in out in out… he reached around and squeezed his lover’s rear. All of it did the trick. He felt Tristan’s body respond beautifully and lifted his head a little so he wouldn’t accidentally inhale the warm, sticky cum filling his mouth in little bursts.

He swallowed every drop of it lovingly, lapping up what had tried to escape him and continued to suck until Tristan was spent and soft. The last cry of pleasure sending a million tiny shivers down his own spine.

Minori slipped out from under his lover and tugged upon his arm with a satisfied smile upon his face. The look upon Tristan’s face was enough to make him drunk; it was so calm, sated, and sleepy. “Come,” He whispered and lay down.

His body still twitched as he relaxed beside Minori. His thoughts were jumbled, but he fought against the euphoria to sort them out and save them forever in his memory. One moment, in particular, he needed to hold on to. The moment when Minori's throat rumbled in soft hums and sent him reeling even further into a place that terrified and pleased him beyond anything he could have anticipated. 'It almost scares me... how in love I am with you... and how well you understand my body... and we are yet strangers... it scares me... because I've never felt like this for anyone.'

Riding through the waves of his orgasm, his brow remained pinched in that moment of unbelievable release, and his chest burned from the rapid intake of breaths over and over, never seeming to find enough air.

"May I ..." he started and swallowed a breath, "May...I ... hold you... like this?" He asked, laying on his side, facing his lover, his leg sneaking its way over Minori's hip, pulling him close enough that their bellies touched. "I want to watch you sleep..." he spoke softly.

Finally his breathing slowed and his head cleared and sorted and filed and organized and rated and tucked everything of his lover deeply within his memory. Breathing in a final deep breath and letting out a tremendous sigh, he found that he was the most relaxed he had ever been. Their faces were so close, he could easily rub his nose against Minori's skin if he so chose.

Lifting a hand to gently stroke Minori's cheek and brush stray pieces of silken hair away from his eyes, Tristan wanted desperately to give him something.

'You'll feel silly,' he mentally frowned at himself. But after making love, after being so incredibly naked and spent, he didn't think he had to right to be shy. Closing his eyes for a moment, he dug into his memory. It had been over a year since he thought of this poem, but he recalled it perfectly, as if he had just memorized it yesterday. He had presented the poem verbally, and from memory, to a board of chairman at the university as a sort of entrance exam. They wanted to test his ability to retain information, as well as his natural understanding of prose. And they weren't disappointed.

Opening his eyes again, he saw Minori still gazing at him. An eternity of mystery, beauty, and pain lay hidden behind those dark eyes. 'What a coincidence, I seem to have an eternity to uncover every bit.' Tristan thought with a tiny smile. Already he found tears leaking from his eyes. 'I better hurry... or I'll fall into sobs and ruin the poem entirely.' Composing himself, using a deepened voice, he began:

"Drink to me only with thine eye,
And I will pledge thee mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from my soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of love's nectar sip,
I would not change for thine."

Overcome with the images of the divine drink, something more satisfying than love's own nectar, he couldn't control himself. Leaning forward he kissed Minori's lips, his tongue gently caressing and seeking approval at the same time. Tasting one of the many 'divine drinks' he enjoyed from his lover, he felt himself crumble away. Tears fell and his chest caught in a series of tiny sobs. 'God, I must seem pathetic.' Releasing Minori's lips at last, he finished the poem, letting his leg tighten around his lover as he went.

"I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there,
It would not withered be.
But thou there on did'st only breathe,
And sent it back to me;
Since then, its perfume is, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee."

Screwing up his face in a questioning expression, he wondered if perhaps he should have left off the second verse. It spoke of the lover turning up her nose at the gentleman's gift. But when she breathed on the rosy wreath it took on the sweat scent of her being... and Tristan always liked that part. For even if the gentleman could not have his true love, he could still breathe her in and pretend to know of intimacy.

'I don't have to pretend anymore...' he thought with a soft and tired smile. Again he stroked Minori's cheek.

Minori smiled brightly, listening to hanging upon every word, even those he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what thee, doth, thine, and did’st were. He’d never heard them before and even if he was relatively fluent in the English tongue, he didn’t know all words. But he did recognize a poem when he heard one. And even though he wasn’t sure what it all meant, hearing it from Tristan’s lips, his soothing voice, meant a great deal to him, warmed him and gave him excited butterflies to dance in his stomach.

He snuggled closer, draping his arm over Tristan’s side, running the tips of his fingers along his arm. What ever had given his lover cause to weep, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t believe it was anything negative in nature. “Tell it to me again,” He whispered softly. “No one’s ever told me a poem before, not like you have. I’m glad it’s you, I love listening to you speak. Your voice is like a gentle lullaby.”

He smiled again, nuzzling Tristan. “And will you say it for my mother tonight? She was a simple person but she loved to hear beautiful things, I know she’d enjoy it as much as me.”

Tristan swallowed, his throat tightening. "If it will please her, I shall do as such." He smiled at Minori, then began the poem again, this time almost in a whisper. 'For his mother...' he thought. 'I used to read to my mother... things that I had written, and hoped to submit to the journal. And poems. And I used to write down little stories for my sister...'

As he came to the end of Ben Jonson's poem for the second time, he noticed the dark and amazing eyes of his lover, gazing through the tiniest of slits. "Sleep, my love. I'll be with you when you wake." As his own eyes grew heavy he shifted forward and pressed their foreheads together. Breathing slowly, almost completely seduced to sleep, he spoke softly, "I do love you, Minori... I hope someday... you will... love... me...too." Their hearts beat in tandem as they slept in each other's arms.

Almost asleep, Minori heard Tristan’s words and felt the warmth of his forehead pressed against his. Too tired to translate into English, he simply spoke his native Japanese. “Be patient a little longer. I promise to make the wait worth it.” And he closed his eyes and drifted to into a comforted, content slumber.

"Tristan... my poor, adorable... brilliant, little Tristan." A voice seemed to slice through the darkness. Tristan looked around him, curiously seeking the source. It sounded so familiar.

"Tristan. Have you forgotten me already? I thought we were closer than that." It was a luxuriously rich voice that should have warmed Tristan's heart; instead it brought him the chill of panic and guilt.

"Victoria?" He asked softly, praying that he was wrong, but knowing; in the same way he knew the sun would destroy him, that it was in fact the voice of his old companion. 'Oh God..'

"Yes, my darling. I wanted to ask you... what are you doing with this boy?" A faint outline of a feminine form descended upon him almost completely absorbing into him.

"I found my mate, Victoria... aren't you... happy for me?" He asked, turning his face from the form and shying from it, like a dog waiting for its master to discipline it.

"No... you were supposed to be mine, Tristan... only mine. My sweet innocent, little Tristan. My baby." She spoke so softly and kindly, but Tristan knew that voice... it was something like thrall, only worse... it sickened him. It was her siren song. Even when he was still beside her, and loyal and adoring of her every movement, he found her deceptive nature to be utterly unappealing.

"You left me, Victoria... our connection was severed. I felt it. You're dead." He said, but it sounded almost like he was pleading for it to be true.

"I may be dead... but I am lonely without my Tristan. Why did you not join me?" Her voice, still soft, seemed to actually enter him.

"I... " He began breathe quickly, anger and fear dominating his body, "I would have followed you into the abyss... but you did not love me... and I did not love you!" He tried to move, but found himself completely pinned down by her impending force. "Leave me be! I cannot follow you now and you know it! I am with my mate! I cannot abandon him. Remember the devil... remember responsibility! Isn't that what you always said? I will not abandon him." He screamed at her, desperate for her to leave, for he knew that at some point her voice would win out... like it always did. He was no stranger to her thrall; it was something she employed quite often as a means to keep him well behaved.

"Does he love you, Tristan?" She asked, her voice starting to effect him.

"I... don't know... but I will wait forever to find out." He lay still, looking up into the unending darkness.

"But he's loved so many others before you... how will ever know if he truly loves 'you'?" It was as if her lips had invaded his mouth. This too was a familiar feeling. Only while he was under thrall would he let her take advantage of his body like that. But her kisses never got very far. He found ways to distract her... after all... he was only a half-formed little Vampire and not very interesting at all.

"He has pleased me... in ways you never did." He said, his lips curling into a sneer. Suddenly he felt the familiar pinch of his fangs descending.

"Not like I didn't try. I wonder, why you were so cold with me, and yet you're so hot with this young boy. Perhaps you are a pervert?" She laughed and swirled her ghostly essence around him.

"I love him!"

"You bore him!" She yelled back with venomous precision. "Honestly Tristan, he's a geisha... you didn't even know that, did you? You thought he was just a casual whore." More laughter, but petite, as if she were trying to cover her mouth. "You see... his body is spoiled with pleasure. He needs so much more than you can ever give him to keep him content. Your bumbling hands and inexperienced moans do not seduce him... they amuse him." Pure ice fell about him. Her words seemed... true, but that must be thrall... it must be.

"You lie." He whispered and fought with all his might against the intoxicating whirlpool of her voice.

"I do not." Her words were curt now and quite angry. And then she sank into him, fully submerging her essence with his, causing him to cry out weakly in sudden discomfort. It felt like he... was being unfaithful... becoming the betrayer.... becoming the devil.

"Tristan.. I am very lonely here... why do you keep me waiting? Must I be the only Vampire to suffer betrayal from, not one, but two companions?"

Her voice lulled him deeper and deeper into the nothingness. "Yes... Victoria... I will follow... but I will never love you." He whispered in surrender.