Title: The Road Out of Burden

Rating: PG-13 -sexual thoughts, slash

Summary: Seth asks Ryan onto the bed.. Hmm...interesting. Slash. Seth/Ryan Second person POV.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I don't even claim to. ;)

Feedback: Always appreciated. Your comments do make a difference. :)

Notes: This is slash. I could not just let that scene with Ryan and Seth go to waste. Come on now, that scene was, like, a slash writer's wet dream. LOL I may even decide to write an entirely different angle to it, because there is just so much that could be done with it. I love using second person POV, though a lot of people hate it, so I try to limit how much I use it.

The Road Out of Burden

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"Unburden your soul," he says, looking ever so innocent and you clench your jaw tight because he doesn't know what he's asking. God, how you'd love to unburden your soul against his naked flesh. Tasting and touching all the inches of skin you've only glanced at in the pool or across the breakfast table.

"Any time, I'm here to help," he further explains, with those big puppy dog eyes that just make your blood pulse through your ears and your groin burn. If only he could help the way you need him to; the way you ache for him to night after night.

The balance between tender ministrations and boyish roughhousing is beginning to tip. The lines are beginning to blur and you know one night things are going to go too far. You're going to show him the true burden of your soul.

You'll find peace in the curled mess of his hair; the scent of talc just behind his ears will calm you more than sleek, soft girls ever could. He is your ongoing torture. Your dark shadow that chases you into the dreamworld. Your absolution.

And he pats the bed for Christ sake. A gentle coaxing to help open up that bleeding heart he must see inside you. You stare at the spot his lithe fingers have just caressed and the longing builds so strong, you feel you're going to burst.

His blood is like a thick midnight wine. You could drink yourself into a stupor just by sucking on his neck. Lapping at his jugular, a metallic twist of sweet and salt on your tongue, could make you addicted. It's no better than your mother who craves alcohol the way you crave the taste of Seth.

The crescent slope of his mouth taunts you. A little pout and then a thin-lipped smile and you're done. What you could do to that mouth; what that mouth could do to you. It is all too tempting. Too damning.

"My soul is fine," you claim and walk away before you hurt him; before he hurts you. Before he leads you out of burden and on the road to your heart's sanctum.

He doesn't know what he's asking.