Accept what the gods send
Disclaimer: I don't own the Coldfire Trilogy, and no profit is intended. Let's just hope that Ms Friedman never reads this story. She might borrow Damien's sword and chop my head off, lol…
Warnings: This story is rated M for a reason, although, as usual, I try to be not too explicit. It contains a fair amount of auto erotic activities, a sex toy and slash, so if you are repulsed by either of those topics please beware.
Author's note 1: I know that the storyline 'Gerald takes a cold bath to suppress the urges of his youthful body' has been used before, but the image was too tempting to resist.
Author's note 2: 'The painted, effeminate excuse for a man' is Gerald's opinion, not mine! For my part I don't mind a hint of mascara and eyeliner on a beautiful male face…;-)
Author's note 3: Well, it's rather funny what kind of kinky ideas you get when you are browsing the www. I came across a website advertising exactly the kind of toy Tarrant's trying out, if not made from wood, and the basic outline of the story instantly begged me to get written, nudging me gently at first but proceeding to violent threats of clubbing me senseless if I didn't obey. Valuing my life I went along, but had no intention of actually posting this naughty proof of my own lunacy. But why not? For the sake of thorough research I even questioned a gay friend of mine (he was a bit taken aback, the poor fellow…), because I had serious misgivings of that kind of stuff actually doing the trick. Now please imagine a moustached face rolling eyes, smiling blissfully and answering "Oh luv, you have no idea!" That settled it, and here we go:
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Gerald woke up all sweaty, panting and very, very frustrated. He had been so close, dreaming of that damned priest again. Having a young, mortal body had its advantages, but he hadn't expected his hormones getting the better of him. His first erotic dreams had completely taken him by surprise, and for many nights his hopes for a sound, undisturbed sleep had been crushed. Usually he ended in his bathtub, taking a cold bath to regain his composure. This night didn't seem to be an exception, and Gerald sighed with exasperation.
Why did Vryce always manage to shatter his stringent self-control, even in his absence? Sometimes Gerald wondered if the priest had put a kind of spell upon him. Very unlikely because of Vryce's tiring morals and the inaccessibility of the fae, but not completely impossible. A shiver ran through the adept's body, and to his horror he realized that he was still rocking his pelvis against one of his silk pillows that had somehow found its way between his legs. No wonder he hadn't calmed down yet.
Instead of stopping and heading for the bathroom Gerald closed his eyes in resignation and wrapped his legs a bit tighter around the pillow while his hips kept moving slowly, but in a steady rhythm. He would stop at any second now, he promised himself, but the ripples of arousal spreading in waves through his abdomen felt too good to be true. Unbidden images of Vryce's naked, muscular body floated through his mind, washing off the dust of the road from his tanned skin in a clear mountain stream, and Gerald had to fight down a heated moan. His infatuation with the priest came much too close to an obsession for his taste, a pathetic aberration he had no intention of tolerating.
But there was no denying: he wanted Vryce, wanted him with a primeval hunger that during all the centuries of his prolonged existence had only been equalled by his hellish cravings for blood and fear, if at all. That desire he had transformed into the ritual hunt which left him in absolute control. Well, most of the times, anyway. With a slight shudder Gerald remembered his insatiable hunger in the wake of their Novatlantis crossing, starving throughout the long months at sea albeit the priest had willingly fed him his blood and his nightmares.
Now Gerald hungered for the more earthly pleasures of the body, and once again the priest was the one and only acceptable source of sustenance. He thrust harder into the silk which conveniently formed a slick sheath for him, replaced the cushion with Vryce's hand in his imagination, but somehow the stimulation wasn't sufficient. Or, to be precise, the former Hunter wanted something different.
The adept stopped his pleasant activities, got up and made for the kitchen. Although rarely used except for brewing a cup of coffee it was fully equipped, and he knew very well that the food supplies included a flask of precious not almond oil, just what he needed now to utilize the weird little toy he had bought on a whim and kept hidden in his nightstand.
Coming across the small, but well-assorted sex shop apparently catering exclusively for a male/male clientele completely by chance during one of his excursions through Jaggonath Gerald had stepped inside, driven by his insatiable curiosity. The visit had been an enlightening experience, to say the least. Sexual matters had been relatively down-to-earth in his time, and debauchery, although not unheard of among the Ernan elite, had been officially frowned upon.
For a child of the revival period the collection of pornographic magazines and sex toys openly displayed on the shelves had been a little bit unsettling, and Gerald had stared at the dildos available in every conceivable sizes and variations in utter awe, his mouth slightly agape. He wouldn't exactly have called himself a novice concerning those matters, but the mere thought of accommodating that novebony monster the size of a horse penis inside a human body was ridiculous.
Forcing his eyes away from the offending object Gerald's gaze had fallen on a skintight suit made from black leather, sporting an obscene cut-out at a strategically important location. The adept's overheated imagination had instantly provided him with a vivid picture of the priest wearing that damnable outfit, and he had felt his pants getting a tad tighter. Livid with himself and his treacherous body Gerald had swallowed and tried to force the blood rushing southwards back to more appropriate areas by the sheer force of his will, but had failed miserably.
The adept had wrapped himself into the last vestiges of his self control, trying to get a grip on himself. Their paths of life had separated, and yearning for the priest was pointless and would get him nowhere. He owed Vryce a new beginning, and besides he had no intention of risking his existence by reuniting with the warrior knight. And no intention of getting adventurous from sexual frustration. That's where the toy had entered the scene. Intrigued by the shop assistant's ravings Gerald had relented to his jarring urges and bought the little beast, but had stored it away, preferably to be forgotten until the cows came home. Unfortunately the time to open the metaphorical stable seemed to be overdue now despite his misgivings… Inwardly the adept shook his head at the weak pun. The hormonal overkill was evidently addling his brain, an all too human weakness which had to be eradicated at once.
Finally Gerald wound up on the bed again and rolled onto his left side. While he tried to push that ridiculous little piece of polished wood into his resisting body ever so carefully he felt absolutely stupid, even humiliated, and lost the better part of his arousal. Faintly remembering a very special night in an age long gone by the adept forced himself to draw some deep breaths and relax until the toy seemingly made it to the correct position at long last, causing an unsettling urge Gerald had been warned of and had taken precaution of in the lavatory. Otherwise nothing spectacular happened, and he started to harbour some very unkind thoughts concerning marketing strategies and overeager shop assistants, thoughts had would have made the painted, effeminate excuse for a man blanch with dread if he had been able to read Gerald's mind from afar.
Getting a bit bored Gerald's mind started to wander and ended, inevitably, with the priest, delighting in the memory of Damien's expressive hazel eyes and his muscular figure. It couldn't harm now to imagine Vryce looking at his naked body full of desire, his fingers replacing …. Involuntary the adept shuddered, and when his internal muscles contracted around the intruder the breath caught in his throat.
Oh! The strange flutter deep inside him was a welcome surprise. Maybe the hormone fuelled purchase hadn't been such a waste, after all. Gerald repeated the muscular contraction more purposefully this time, and was promptly rewarded with a stronger flutter. Several repetitions later the waves of pleasure kept building, each more intensive than the last, and if Gerald still had been able to think coherently he might have contemplated presenting the blessed shop assistant with a medal of merit as a token of gratitude for introducing him to this heavenly delight.
Lost in sensation the adept started to stroke himself, but stopped his manipulations soon afterwards, the additional stimulation presenting a disagreeable distraction from the feelings deep inside him which were slowly but surely driving him crazy.
Over the centuries Gerald had buried his memories under layers of corruption, but writhing on the bed he tried to assess the reactions of his body. Accelerated heart rate, gasps for air, his muscles tensing: there couldn't be a doubt that he was rapidly approaching the first climax in nearly a thousand years, a somehow disconcerting and slightly frightening thought despite the lustful sensations washing over him in waves. As usual that was entirely Vryce's fault. If he could only share this experience with that blunt, infuriating priest, feel Damien moving inside him, and…
Boom! Somebody banged at the front door with a ferocity that very nearly made it fly off its hinges, and Gerald almost jumped out of his skin while his body was returning from the heaven of pleasure to more earthly domains. What the hell…? When the lusty fog inside his brain cleared a bit a well known, rather enraged presence made itself known. Vryce! Dear God, that man was a pain in the arse, as usual, but right now Gerald felt inclined to accept what the gods had sent. Still dazed with unquenched desire the adept carelessly tossed the toy onto his nightstand, wrapped himself into his silken bathrobe and made for the stairs.
"Open the vulking door at once, you crazy son of a bitch, or I will kick it in!
The infuriated voice was accompanied by another bout of fierce banging, and the former Hunter sighed inwardly. Vryce indeed, and doubtlessly in a foul mood. Maybe having erotic dreams with the priest as their main protagonist was preferable to the man's actual irascible presence, but letting his nemesis throwing a tantrum on his door step didn't seem a very advisable course of action.
Slightly unnerved the adept pulled the door open with a start, and the priest stumbled over the threshold, his fist still raised rather threateningly. At last face to face with his former companion Gerald blinked, completely taken aback at the strange spectacle.
Damien had never been inclined to caring a lot for his appearance, but tonight he was outdoing himself. His dishevelled hair was standing in all directions, and apparently he had just thrown a coat over his striped cotton pajamas before he left his dwellings. The adept couldn't even start to imagine what had brought the priest to his house in the middle of the night, not to mention the state he was in. And not to mention that the warrior knight wasn't supposed to know his whereabouts.
"You…" the priest rasped, clenching and unclenching his big hands in a rather intimidating manner. "Stop sending me those preposterous dreams, damn you! I know it's you, so don't bother denying it. What on Earth and Erna have I done to you to deserve this perfidious torture?"
Gerald frowned, his brain cells working at lightning speed, desperately trying to make sense of Damien's outburst. "Have you lost your wits, Vryce? Why should I send you dreams? It might help if you told me what kind of dreams you're having. Nightmares again?"
"No, no nightmares" the warrior knight replied in a huff. "Quite the contrary, to be honest. Very embarrassing dreams, with you and me engaging in rather dubious activities."
Only a thousand years of exercising strict self-control prevented Gerald from dropping his jaw in utter astonishment, but some treacherous reaction must have been clearly visible on his features, because Vryce descended on him like a hawk on a mouse. "You might not have sent me those dreams, but you know something. Out with it!"
"I don't know for sure", the adept replied softly, "but I presume that our problem is caused by a very unfortunate leakage from the channel. You know what I mean, don't you? The bond you had with …him."
In any other less embarrassing situation Gerald would have paid a lot of money for seeing Vryce's dumbfounded face, but the colour rising in his face he didn't quite feel like laughing at the priest.
"You mean", Damien spluttered, "that he is having those dreams as well? That they are transferred into my subconscious via that vulking link? That the bloody bastard wants me?"
By now Gerald's mouth was as arid as a dried-up river bed, and he settled for a faint nod. Damien stared at him as if he had never seen him before, doubtlessly registering the rosy glow on his cheeks, his mussed hair and the rather scant clothing, and a grin slowly spread over the priest's rugged face.
In the next instant Gerald found himself scooped up and carried upstairs, towards his bedroom. "What's come over you, Vryce? Let me down at once!" But it was just a token protest, and the warrior knight silenced him with a kiss that left him breathless and more than ready.
Something inside Gerald snapped, and he surrendered to Damien's kiss with a moan so throaty, so hungry that he was tempted to deny that the wanton sound had escaped his own mouth while his fingers were already busy with unlacing the belt of his robe. Precious red silk slid to the floor like a cascade of gore, in a heartbeat followed by striped pajamas, the buttons flying all over the place, and then Vryce was over him, inside him, and Gerald lost himself to the irresistible pulse spreading from his groin through his whole body, arching his back and driving his teeth into Vryce's shoulder until he tasted blood.
When the adept came halfway to his senses he was quite certain that he heard Vryce muttering "that surely was the worst case of sexual deprivation I've ever witnessed" under his breath, but if there had been any inclinations towards gracing the priest with a suitably acerbic retort to his insolent remark it would have been drowned in his treacherous body's response to Vryce's continuing gentle thrusts.
In a haze of desire Gerald rolled around and pulled the yielding priest with him, straddling him, his long suppressed instincts kicking in and twisting his hips until he found the most pleasurable angle. A shudder passed through his slender body, and Gerald bit his lip, vainly trying to stifle a voluptuous moan. The explosion of the pent up need of a millennium a few minutes ago had been mind-blowing, but the slower build up of sexual tension right now was almost unbearably exquisite, better than anything he recalled from his distant days of youth. Each of his movements on top of Vryce sent small shivers of sheer bliss through him, and for a fleeting moment he wondered what he looked like for Damien, strands of long hair black as a raven wing clinging to a flushed body glittering with small droplets of sweat, his head tilted backwards and his eyes closed in rapture, a lascivious creature riding his lover with abandon.
Vryce's hands were cradling his buttocks now, caressing, but not forcing him on, allowing him to set the pace and seeing to his needs first, although Gerald was able to feel the priest's desperate arousal with every fibre of his being.
Panting the adept sped up his rhythmic motions, his muscles taut as a bowstring, moving against the body writhing under him with rising urgency and utterly oblivious to the fact that he was sobbing the priest's Christian name when the second blinding wave of pleasure overtook him, stopping the world and leaving him breathless and shaking all over.
Limply sprawled on Vryce's bulky torso Gerald felt the priest's chuckle before the actual sounds reached his ears. Forcing his disobedient, heavy eyelids to open and following the direction of the warrior knight's gaze to his nightstand the breath hitched in his throat. Right on his treasured, antique volume about the founding of the Church of Unification the toy had found a treacherously innocent resting place, both its inconspicuous appearance and Gerald's enforced expression of feigned nonchalance doubtlessly failing to deceive the priest. The waves of mirth radiating from Damien were almost palpable, and the former Hunter buried his hot face at the warrior knight's shoulder and stifled a groan.
"This funny little thing has really done a good job, Gerald, laying the groundwork for what must have been the quickest climax in living memory", Vryce purred into his ear, his deep voice teasing and tender at the same time. "I hope it won't get me unemployed, though."
"Not a snowball's chance in hell, Vryce!" Gerald wrestled the toy from Damien's grip, tossed it into the wastepaper basket and made himself comfortable on his breathing pillow again. Vryce was doubtlessly a man of many talents, and if it were up to him the brusque, emotional and so very exhilarating priest was in for a lifetime post. Smiling blissfully the adept dozed off, strong arms wrapped protectively around him and his lover's steady breaths the sweetest lullaby imaginable.