It had been a daring rescue, and now we both ran for our lives. I followed him blindly; he had no idea where he was going, but I was in too much pain to direct. We pushed through many hidden doors, ran down many dark passages, and my mind was starting to go numb. Unable to go any farther I fell hard to my knees and he turned, surprise and worry etched on his features. I grinned as I felt conciousness slipping and I fell forward. The last thing I felt was strong arms enveloping me, before I completely blacked out.
When I awoke, I was in my bed, my coffin rather, the black satin lining carressing my bare skin. I saw him standing near, tearing bandages from his own shirt. His appearance surprised me. His long blond hair was tied smartly at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. He must have found my supply, I mused. His neck and shoulders were broad and tan, and very bare, his back was strong and straight. I suddenly had a very ludicrous thought and I touched my hand to my face as though to remove it, and found he had removed my mask.
I suddenly felt intense anger toward him, and I pushed myself up, but the pain stopped me with a loud groan. He turned instantly towards me, and I felt lust begin to over ride my anger. I obstinately focused on my missing mask, and would have started shouting if he had not so quickly leaned over me, his bare skin tantalizing me as he bent down, gently pushing me back,
"You must stay still or you might loosen your bandages."
He treated me so naturally, as though my malformed face was normal, and I suddenly forgave him for removing the mask. He smiled as he leaned over me, fussing about this and that, making sure that my sheets covered me, that I was warm enough, that I was comfortable. I suddenly ended his hen pecking by grabbing him roughly by arm and pulling him over the side of the coffin. He gasped in shock as I pressed against him, the thin, satin sheet the only thing seperating our bodies. He shivered as I ran my hand down his spine, certain of my members suddenly feeling very alive.
I simply could not fathom this insatiable lust that I felt as I gently but urgently undressed him. He struggled but even for my wound he was no match for my strength and I forced him still. His frightened whimper encouraged me and I tore the sheet from betweeen us, pressing our warm bodies together, and closing my mouth over his. He responded, his mouth opening under my pressure, our tongues sliding together in a struggle to dominiate.
The sounds of love reached a crescendo, ending in a blissful scream from my lover as we both relaxed against eachother, panting. He rose and dressed quickly, shame and embarassment plainly on his face, and I simply watched him, pulling the sheet back around me and leaning comfortably against the side of the coffin I called my bed. My shoulder throbbed unmercifully, but ignored it. He turned to me, still shirtless, but his jacket held tight about his shoulders.
"I... I'll be back to change the dressing on your wounds... tomorrow."
He turned and fled, and I grinned to myself. That was not our last.