Chapter four:
Warnings: slash
Author's note 1: I'm back, folks! Nowadays they kick you out of hospital as soon as you're able to stand on your feet, and I've been home for quite a while now thankfully, but needed some time to recuperate. Sorry for the delay.
Author's note 2: Now it's time for Gerald and Damien to get down to business and make love on the beach and for violating another one of my own principles: never write a sex scene with someone who's undead…;-). 'A symphony of fire and ice' doesn't quite count on my tally, because there's no true act of sexual congress between the two protagonists though Damien shares his pleasure with Gerald via the channel, and I have to admit that I definitely felt a tad uneasy about writing this at first. Nonetheless abandoning this story without taking it to its, well, natural conclusion has never been an option to me, and I didn't want to disappoint whoever still gives a damn for what's going on in this fic with dredging up a lame excuse for my misgivings (e.g. either Damien or Gerald suddenly gets second thoughts concerning the matter). So there we go:
Author's note 3: Of course the story's slightly AU. If Damien and Gerald had become lovers at the end of WTNF a lot of us wouldn't have been so annoyed at COS…;-)
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo o
The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon half an hour ago, and shadows were spreading across the secluded bay sheltering a small, sandy beach, something so rare on their fickle planet with its inhospitable coastlines that Damien had wondered at his unexpected discovery whether the One God of his faith possessed a rather wicked sense of humour. His gaze locked on the gentle waves lapping at the shore Damien was sitting on a woollen blanket, softly whistling an old love song from Earth he had picked up in an inn when he was still a teenager and had developed a crush on one of his female tutors at the seminary. From the distance Vryce would have been the first one to admit that what he had perceived as love had more likely been a bad case of raging teenager hormones, and the mental image of his younger self drooling over his anthropology teacher brought a faint smile on his lips. So much had happened since then, and when he tried to remember the woman's face an angelic, pale and distinctively male countenance pushed itself forward with jarring insistency.
Despite the gathering darkness the air was pleasantly balmy, and the golden sand under his bare feet still radiated warmth, evoking charming pictures of tanned, laughing children equipped with sunhats and little baskets, digging for shellfish and all the other wondrous treasures the sea released from its fathomless empire when the tide was out. For a fleeting moment of peace Damien allowed himself to succumb to the deceptively peaceful scenario, relishing the soft breeze caressing his face and the glittering stars overhead which unsettlingly reminded him of a pair of mesmerizing silver eyes.
Just the right atmosphere for an intimate tête-à-tête on the beach, Vryce, the warrior knight thought wryly, and reality crushing down on him with a vengeance his mouth instantly turned into a veritable desert and brought his unmelodious musical performance to an abrupt standstill.
Damien's well-intentioned proposal had been answered with a very fine exemplar of Gerald's infamous scowls, the adept's delicately arched eyebrows raised in a display of unvoiced, but unmistakable disparagement which couldn't have been more profound if the priest had indeed suggested booking into the Grand Hotel's honeymoon suite. In the wake of his bloodcurdling confessions Tarrant had apparently regretted his open display of very human vulnerability and had clammed up completely, retreating behind the by now much too familiar impenetrable wall of aloof hauteur and letting himself out into the rising dawn without so much as a farewell nod. Damien had walked back to his lodgings in a daze and flung himself onto his bed, but despite his bone-tiredness sleep had evaded him for a long, long time, the disclosures of the night and his concerns about the future wearing heavily on his soul. When he had finally managed to sink into oblivion his fitful nap had been disturbed by nightmares so dreadful that the waves of paralyzing terror crushing down on him with a vengeance easily could have provided a lavish five-course meal for the Hunter. Bad luck for the damn son of a bitch who was doubtlessly dozing away the day in whatever gloomy shelter he had managed to ferret out before the rising sun could have burned him to a pile of ashes.
The Hunter had cut it close once again, and presumably Damien's anxiety had played a vital part in creating those horrific dreams which had haunted him with grisly images of Gerald Tarrant roasting in hell or bursting into flames in his arms and soul-chilling visions of his own damnation alike, and the warrior knight had woken up more than once whimpering like a frightened child, the bed sheet and pillow drenched with sweat and tears. At twelve p.m. Vryce hadn't been able to take it any longer, and he had left his boarding-house for a light lunch and some reconnoitering. Although he hadn't quite dared to picture the precise nocturnal pursuits laying in store for him it had seemed advisable to indulge into those questionable activities far from prying eyes, and God, or more likely the devil himself, depending on the point of view, had offered them this idyllic haven.
Back in his room Damien had opted for the rare treat of a hot bath and a shave, but his restlessness had driven him back on the streets well before dusk, and he had coughed up an outrageous sum for two bottles of a decent red wine and supplemented his purchases with some ham sandwiches and the very blanket he was occupying now. His tired legs had carried him back to the narrow strip of sand then, and alone with the wind and the waves his troubled thoughts had instantly focussed on their recent tribulations. Reminiscences of the horrendous atrocities he had had to witness over the last year, the death of his unfortunate companions, his pangs of conscience at defying the principles of his church by allying with the fallen prophet of his faith and Gerald's harrowing avowals had been warring with his indisputable caring for the man he had once sworn to kill, and the warrior knight's shoulders had slumped under his burden.
By now Vryce had nibbled listlessly at one of his sandwiches and was well into the first bottle of wine, but although the alcoholic beverage had somehow dulled the sharp edge of his apprehension the food definitely didn't go well with his stomach. Good heavens, what the hell had possessed him to agree with Tarrant's lunatic scheme? In close proximity to Gerald's tempting presence his hormones had developed the unsettling habit of getting the better of him if he wasn't busy fighting down the compelling urge to strangle the haughty son of a bitch, but in the adept's absence common sense had hoisted the red alarm flag, and Damien couldn't help but having second thoughts concerning the wisdom of his rash decision. The risk was simply incalculable. Tarrant had survived his detestable hands-on experiment centuries ago, but that didn't guarantee that he would get off with a slap on his wrist this time, to say nothing about his own well-being and the rather embarrassing fact that his lack of experience with same sex dalliances caused a more than uncomfortable uproar in his bowels, anyway. The warrior knight sighed and buried his face into his hands.
"You sound like a moonstruck teenager, Vryce" a silky voice interrupted his musings, and Damien very nearly jumped out of his skin. Damned Gerald Tarrant and his thrice damned ability of sneaking up on him like a feline predator! The priest hadn't harboured a sliver of doubt that utilizing his inhumanely keen predator senses and the link they had established back in the rakhlands the Hunter would be able to track him down effortlessly if he so chose, but the Neocount's uncanny appearances out of thin air were simply hair-raising.
"For heaven's sake, can't you approach like a normal mortal for once, Gerald?" Damien grumbled gruffly. "Suffering a heart attack would render me quite useless for your suicidal plan, wouldn't it?"
Gracing his nagging with a verbal reply was evidently considered beneath the ancient soul hidden somewhere behind the perfect, impervious ivory mask, and fidgeting uncomfortably under Tarrant's intimidating gaze so much colder than the reflection of moonlight on a frozen lake Vryce gave up with a sigh and offered his companion the bottle, knowing better than to engage in a foolish 'who averts his eyes first' battle with the Hunter. "Want a sip of wine? I paid through the nose for the vulking tipple, and it should be up even to your sophisticated standards."
To Damien's astonishment the adept accepted his proposal and retrieved a dainty silver goblet adorned with the same family crest the warrior knight had seen on Tarrant's knife from a hidden pocket. May God beware that you do anything as uncultivated as drinking straight from the bottle, you snobbish bastard, not to mention that I don't even want to know the sinister purpose for carrying your bloody goblet around. Always at the ready is your damned motto, I bet, Damien thought with rising exasperation, but kept his cheeky mouth in check for once. There was a lot to be said in favour of some good old stress relief bickering, but meanwhile the priest was so wrecked with nerves that he wasn't sure at all if his tongue wouldn't just flatly refuse to do its duty, and stammering incoherently in the presence of a man who was a master craftsman at wielding his words like weapons as potentially lethal as his Worked sword or the dark fae was a mishap he could do very well without for the time being.
The Hunter settled down on the blanket and reclined at Vryce's side in one fluent, serpentine motion so outright inhuman in its feral grace that a cold shiver ran down Damien's spine and nipped languidly at his wine, evidently utterly unfazed by the mind-boggling situation, and when the warrior knight dared a cursory glance from the corners of his eyes he wasn't in the least surprised that Tarrant's ethereal features were perfectly composed, the hypnotic eyes gazing at the enchanting night sky in quiet contemplation clearer and more detached than the innumerable stars twinkling above them.
"Are we going to pass the night with stargazing and getting drunk, or shall we slowly but surely get it over with, Vryce?"
Almost choking on a generous mouthful of burgundy was hardly less humiliating than sighing and spluttering like the aforementioned 'moonstruck teenager', and when he was done with coughing and wiping his watering eyes the warrior knight glared daggers at his insufferable nemesis whose serene gaze might have fooled anybody but Damien who knew Tarrant well enough to register the wry amusement lurking under the impassive façade. His hackles rising Vryce balled his hands into fists, valiantly fighting the overpowering impulse to wipe the smug expression off his companion's face. "How the heck am I supposed to guess what you expect of me, Gerald? Prowling through my soul in search of a delightful dinner you very well know that you don't have a vulking predecessor, so you have me at a slight disadvantage."
Damien was damn sure the faint smile on the Hunter's pale visage wasn't a weird trick conjured by the dazzling moonlight, and he gritted his teeth. Bloody self-assured bastard!
"As usual. But I thought I made myself rather clear when we struck our bargain, priest", the Hunter replied haughtily. "The term was 'to embrace a demon', but as long as you don't get your hopes up that I will allow my body to respond to your ministrations you can replace it with whatever human euphemism you prefer. Lay with me, fuck me, have it off with me, I don't really care how you call it, as long as you perform the bare necessities required to earn me a pardon from my unforgiving benefactors."
Vryce's jaw dropped, and for a moment he just stared at Tarrant, at the loss of words and more than slightly repelled by his ally's callous words. Bedding a man for the first time in his life was unsettling, mildly put, bedding vulking Gerald Tarrant who had left no doubt that he was no novice concerning these matters was even more nerve rattling, not to mention that his lover-to-be was an undead disciple of the Unnamed and subjected to stringent rules of conduct which inter alia excluded partaking in any act of sexual congress whatsoever. Nonetheless the few hours of rest which hadn't had him thrashing around on the bed in the grip of those abominable nightmares had provided him with rather alluring visions of Gerald breathing his name, the silver eyes misty with longing and pleasure, and having his foolish illusions crashing down all around him was of little help for smoothing the warrior knight's ruffled feathers.
"And what are you going to do while I 'have it off with you'? Lay there like a vulking broomstick and count the grains of sand or the bloody stars in the sky? Or will you keep your sick mind entertained with planning the next hunt?" Damien blurted out, completely unnerved. "For heaven's sake, Gerald, have you ever truly listened to yourself? Your attitude is not exactly inspiring."
"If I can't provide you with sufficient inspiration to keep up your side of the bargain I'd rather suggest you focus on a pleasant memory, Vryce", the Hunter retorted tartly. "You surely have some sweet recollections of the Lady Ciani or your late pilot to get you into the right mood."
The warrior knight was still counting from a hundred backwards to prevent himself from pouncing on Tarrant and engaging in a different kind of close combat than the more intimate one which had actually been scheduled for their encounter when the cognitive part of his brain caught up with his anger and he realized that mentioning the loremaster the adept's light tenor had distinctly carried a strange, miffed undertone, something the warrior knight wouldn't have thought possible if he hadn't heard it with his own ears.
Gotcha, you secretive old mystery-monger, Vryce grinned inwardly, desperately trying to keep a straight face while his heart somersaulted inside his chest with sheer glee at the tremendously ego-boosting marvel that the unflappable, lofty Neocount wasn't above plain human jealousy despite his flaunted indifference. Adding this exhilarating revelation to the fact that presumably it shouldn't have come as a big surprise that the reserved, proud adept was falling back on his usual survival strategies of arrogant disdain and his trademark sarcasm now after he had dared to bare his soul in a previously unprecedented manner last night, not to mention Tarrant's visceral fear of his punishment at the hands of the Unnamed and the not so far fetched possibility of terminating his existence by indulging into a forbidden act of procreation, Damien's irritation faded into non-existence, washed away by a veritable storm surge of compassion and affection.
"Listen to me, Gerald", he muttered after a while, still desperately fishing for the right words to convey his feelings, "I've had it up to here with us playing hide and seek with each other. You know damn well that I don't want anybody else. I've already told you I've never done this with a man before, and the whole experience might not live up to your memories of days long gone by, but if it's up to me to pick the human euphemism the choice is surprisingly easy. Will you grant me the favour of making love to you?"
Tarrant stared at him without so much as a single blink, and Damien had to fight a sudden bout of vertigo. Gerald's face was close now, so close, the flashing, unearthly eyes burning into his own and outshining the celestial orbs dotting the night sky, sucking in the moonlight until the whole world was fading to a dull shade of grey except those molten pools of quicksilver in white. Trembling violently as if in the grip of a vicious fever the warrior knight held his breath and cupped the smooth alabaster cheeks as frigid as the abysmal depths of the ocean utterly untouched by the live-spending rays of the sun, and when he felt the Hunter's barely perceptible nod Damien threw all caution to the wind and leaned forward into their first kiss.
The adept flinched, but to the priest's amazement and wonder he didn't draw back, but opened his lips with a shaky, resigned sigh instead, tempting him to deepen the initially rather chaste peck until their tongues met. Tarrant's mouth was soft and yielding despite its glacial cold and tasted of the luscious burgundy, a delicious tinge of sweet grapes with a finish of ripe cherries and a faint hint of exotic spices, and surrendering to the kiss and Gerald's alluring scent which wrapped around his responsive nerves like a veil woven of irresistible temptation Vryce lay back on the blanket and started to undress his companion without ceasing to explore the Hunter's mouth for a single second
Damien's shaking hands were still fumbling with the ridiculous amount of laces and tiny mother-of-pearl buttons of the layers of Tarrant's midnight blue robes when long, slender fingers had already ridden him of his leather vest and shirt and were moving downwards to unlace his fly. Wriggling out of his trousers the warrior knight was distracted momentarily, and when he focussed his attention on the adept again his eyes very nearly popped out of his head.
Presumably the Hunter had used a Banishing to shed his garments in a blink without bothering about the myriads of annoying clasps, silk ribbons and minuscule buttons, and the unexpected sight of Gerald Tarrant without a stitch of clothing on his lean body simply took Damien's breath away. Bathed in Domina's and Casca's dazzling light the white, creamy skin so eerily inhuman in its flawlessness had acquired an unearthly, almost translucent pearly glow, and when the lips of the enticing vision who could have been one of God's archangels rather than a minion of hell curved into an inviting come-on smile the priest's mind blanked out completely. More than ready to be true to his word he succumbed to his yearning and rolled on top of his companion.
Overpowered by the stunning onslaught of sensations, the mind-blowing contrast between the icy chill seeping into his bones and the naked desire spreading through his whole body like a wildfire Damien faltered for a moment, but Gerald's fingers stroked him, guided him until he sank into the searing wintriness of the Hunter's body. Tarrant's hands trailed a line of cold fire from Vryce's shoulders to his nether cheeks and back again in a hypnotic rhythm, staring up to his lover with irises reflecting the luminescent glow of the Core like the eyes of a feline beast of prey and shining in a warm shade of golden amber instead of their accustomed cool silver, and the warrior knight lost himself in that otherworldly gaze and started to move slowly, as if in a trance.
Time lost its meaning and seconds seemed to stretch into eternity, and up to the end of his days Damien wouldn't be able to determine for how long their blissful, tender lovemaking had actually lasted, but he would never forget the almost religious ecstasy setting his nerves on fire, the heart-rending conviction that he had finally, unexpectedly come home on the shores of an alien continent where their low sighs and whispered endearments mixed with the eternal murmur of the waves.
"I feel… rather strange, Vryce." Gerald's strangled voice snapped the priest out of his lustful haze, and gathering his wits he realized that as far as he could assess in the enchanting moonlight the adept looked slightly flushed, and his skin definitely felt warmer than before. Crap! More than just a little bit worried Damien remembered that his long wait for Tarrant's arrival had left him with sufficient leisure for drawing up a contingency plan just in case the going got tough, and without thinking twice he scooped the Hunter up and carried him to an outcrop of rock nearby which jutted up into the ocean and provided a more or less convenient seating.
"Sit on my lap, Gerald", Damien murmured softly. "If we want to avoid getting a nasty surprise it might be safer when you are in control."
The adept acquiesced to his suggestion and straddled him without a whiff of protest, and cradled in the Hunter's embrace the warrior knight made the surprising discovery that his enforced passivity reaped its own sweet rewards when his helpless waiting for each of Tarrant's tantalizingly slow movements fuelled his desire until he thought he couldn't take it any longer. Just a hair's breadth short of begging Vryce groaned with unbridled lust when his lover changed the angle of his thrusts and sped up his pace, riding him hard and fast and moaning his name over and over again in a breathless, husky voice which send a shiver of sheer rapture through the warrior knight's body. That was all Damien could bear, and in the last conscious second ahead of his impending climax he tightened his grip around Gerald's waist and let himself slip into the sea, pulling the adept with him.
When Damien came halfway to his senses again he was resting on the very same scratchy rug their excursion into the realms of voluptuousness had begun on, his naked limbs wrapped snugly into Gerald's preciously embroidered cloak and the wine bottle and the remainder of the ham sandwiches within convenient reach. Still drowsy with euphoria Vryce yawned and stretched himself, barely resisting the temptation to purr like a contented feline.
The warrior knight had had never lain with a man before and lacked any possibility of comparison whatsoever, but it had been clear as day that for somebody determined to passively endure what he considered a mere tool for sidestepping the looming merciless retaliatory strike for his violation of the accursed compact at the hands of entities for whom forgiveness and compassion were foreign concepts Tarrant had participated rather enthusiastically in their delightful activities when pleasure had overcome the crumbling barricades of aloof detachment at long last and he had finally dared to let himself go. Way more than the bare mechanics each of Gerald's rapturous moans had sent a flash of liquid fire through his groin until he had wondered whether he would pass out from sheer bliss.
The distinct tinge of salt on his lips still mingling with the sweet taste of his lover's mouth Damien faintly remembered sinking beneath the water surface, clinging to the adept like a lifeline and his body convulsing in what must have been the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced, but incredibly from that point on his memory of events was completely wiped out. The lust addled rational parts of his brain commencing their neglected duties at long last the priest froze. How on Earth on Erna did he get back on the blanket, and what the heck had happened to Gerald?
Fraught with dread Damien's searching gaze fell on a lonely figure perched on the farthest rock just out of reach of the surf, and there was something so strange, so utterly desolate about Tarrant's stiff posture that the warrior knight jumped to his feet in a blink and jogged to his companion, not giving a damn about the crushed shells and occasional sharp pebbles under his bare soles. "Gerald?"
The Hunter continued to gaze at the ocean without moving a muscle, and a shiver ran down Damien's spine when he realized that although his lover was fully dressed again his fine, golden brown hair was still laying in a wet, tangled mess on his rigid shoulders. If Tarrant were a normal man that wouldn't have been worth mentioning; after all the two of them had just taken a dip in the sea, but memorizing that while travelling to the realm of the Undying Prince the weakened adept had needed a hand once to climb out of the wretched, muddy hole which had offered them a refuge from the rising dawn just to spend his last reserves of strength on satisfying his damn vanity by Working his hair back to its accustomed gleaming waves Damien felt his blood run cold. "Gerald", he repeated gently, "what's wrong with you? Are you hurt?"
A shudder passed through the lean frame, and the warrior knight held his breath. "Not on the outside", the Hunter whispered. "The one thing that got hurt was my foolhardy pride, Vryce. Like any other ordinary Tom, Dick or Harry I lost control and jeopardized my immortal existence for the pleasures of the flesh, an unforgivable mistake for somebody whose very survival is based on the principle 'mind over matter'. I was too sure of myself, so damned proud of my self-control that I forgot that the taint of your human influence corrupts evil incarnate no less than my malevolent presence undermines the very pillars of your soul. Call it a bad joke", Tarrant continued with a bitter laugh, "that you might yet take pride in being my undoing, if in a completely different way you had previously imagined. If you hadn't balked at taking me in the chapel last night or had failed to come up with your ludicrous idea of a moonlight rendezvous on the beach…"
The Hunter shrugged and trailed off, and Damien swallowed, stunned by the doleful misery in his shaky voice. Lowering himself at Tarrant's side, not an easy feat concerning his bulk and the limited space the slippery rocks offered, the warrior knight put a comforting hand on the adept's shoulder. "You had better remember that any plans whatsoever of being your vulking undoing have been pigeonholed quite a while ago. I won't pretend that I don't detest your abominable eating habits, and you drive me up the wall sometimes with your lordliness and your acerbic tongue, but I bear you no ill will any longer. Can't you get that into your pretty, stubborn head?"
Tarrant's face was shuttered, his gaze still fixed on the infinite expanse of water. "You don't understand, Vryce" the Hunter breathed at long last. "Denying that our feelings for each other have changed profoundly would be hypocritical in the extreme, but it might amount to the same thing anyway. When I gave in to the lure of your attraction and assuaged the mundane hunger of my body I broke the compact again, and instead of earning forgiveness and defining my existence anew by corrupting a servant of the One God I committed another heinous crime in the eyes of the Unnamed. Whether you kill me with your hate or with your love is just a difference in semantics, but the result is the same, and I very much doubt that roasting in hell I'll be inclined to directing my attention on hair-splitting. Despite your best intentions and your futile human notions of redeeming me you'll very likely be the death of me, one way or the other."
Shaken by the horrendous implications of Tarrant's words and the look of abject misery on the beautiful face the warrior knight quivered and pulled the adept into a protective embrace, calling himself three times a fool for nursing his foolish male pride in igniting his lover's passion while the potential horrific consequences of his renewed faux pas had been scaring the living daylights out of the man he cherished. Pondering their drawbacks and opportunities Vryce finally understood, and his blood turned to ice water inside his veins.
"If you are truly convinced the taint of my human influence endangers your existence and you're better off without me we are running out of options", Damien bit out tautly when he was reasonably sure that his vocal chords wouldn't refuse to carry out their duty. "Either the paths of our lives diverge from now on and each of us wages his own war on the vulking demon who seems to be poised to remould our world to his liking or you do what you have to do and rid yourself of my harmful persona non grata in a more final fashion. Can't say I'm keen on kicking the bucket, especially not after what has come to pass between us tonight, but although I'm loth to admit it your survival is damn more important for the fate of mankind on Erna than mine. You can take on Calesta on your own while I don't have a snowball's chance in hell fighting that son of a bitch without your aid. It's up to you, Gerald."
Tarrant blinked and swallowed convulsively, a reaction so utterly human that Damien's heart went out to him. "A mere year ago I would have killed you in a heartbeat if I had thought to gain from your death, but it's not that simple anymore, Vryce. When you had yanked me into the surf and rescued me thus from going up in flames your mortal body failed to withstand the deadly impact of my demonic essence at long last, and you lost consciousness. It wasn't my doing, but for a moment I contemplated to…leave it at that, to acquit myself of your tempting presence by letting you drown. Impassively standing by and watching the man who had just saved his unlife once again perish without lifting a finger would have been a fitting deed for a creature they call the Darkest Prince of Hell, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. What kind of toothless monster does that make me?"
"The wicked mother hen who dragged me back to our blanket, tucked me into your cloak and remembered that a frail human might be in need of some refreshments after a very busy night?" Vryce suggested with a faint, relieved smile. Miraculously Gerald had already made his choice and had dared to walk a tentative step further on the long and winded road to redemption instead of succumbing to the lure of evil, the rekindled spark of humanity in that blackest of souls struggling valiantly against the choking vines of corruption and his hellish cravings despite a millennium of serving the forces of the dark, and the warrior knight's heart swelled with joy. "Whatever happens I won't let you down, Gerald. If harm wants to have a closer look at you it will have to get past me first, even if I will have to battle hoards of vicious demons and the armies of hell unleashed. We're in this together, remember?"
For a long time the Hunter didn't answer but stared blankly into the distance, the moonlight transforming his delicate features into a vision of unearthly beauty, and the warrior knight held his breath. "Together then", Tarrant whispered finally, his low voice barely audible over the sound of the waves, and Damien relaxed with a heartfelt sigh. Admittedly the prospects of the future were rather grim, but as long as they were fighting shoulder to shoulder there was still a modicum of hope that they would come out of this unscathed.
Gently Damien cupped Gerald's chin and turned his head around. "Don't know whether the idea will cheer you up or induce you to draw your vulking sword", he chuckled, "but if you care for an encore we've got the knack now how to avoid the risk of spontaneous self combustion. I still abhor the bloody ocean, but in this special case the abundance of salt water on our long voyage home could reconcile me with my fate, if you get my point. As far as I am concerned the Unnamed is much too busy to keep a meticulous tally of your transgressions."
Tarrant's eyes weren't cold and devoid of emotion any longer but sparkling with affection and wry humour, and when the corners of his mouth turned up in a mischievous smile the priest's breath caught inside his chest. "I very much doubt that it's advisable to delay our homecoming by anchoring at each and every little island on our way, but the night is still quite young, Damien", the adept purred seductively. If you feel up to it I wouldn't mind a repetition of our pleasant activities right now. This time you are mine, though."
For a fleeting second Damien wavered, daunted by the Hunter's unexpected suggestion, but then he relented with an inward shrug. If somebody had foretold him a month ago that he would make love to a man he would have tapped his forehead, but there was no denying that bedding the Hunter had been blissful beyond his wildest expectations. Let's move on to new horizons, Vryce. That's not a first since you've been travelling with Gerald, anyway, Damien thought dryly. Five minutes later the brilliant moonlight was still bathing the outcrop of rocks in its silver rays, but the two men who had found an unsteady seat upon them had moved on to trading gasps and bold caresses on the damp sand, cradled in each others' arms and utterly oblivious to the world, sadistic demons and the fate which lay in store for them.
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Postscriptum: Well, it's done, and I can focus on my other unfinished tales. This story might have a sequel, though. Let's wait and see.
