Thank you to my loyal readers. I know it must suck waiting for me to update! I've got no excuses now, and am setting aside on day a week to write. ;) Feel free to spam me if I get lazy again. –
Explaining his experiences seemed impossible, but far better than standing in an awkward aching silence. Edmond found that, though he had no words for much of his psychic conversation with Jadea, he was able to express the more important points. There was something on the way that wanted to absorb Gankutsuou, and she seemed to think it was worth her time to stop it.
Albert fidgeted when he mentioned the alter ego, and quickly shut the still open door. He proceeded to turn on lights, igniting the wicks of a few candles; the evening had grown quite dark out.
"She said it's on the way, whatever it is." Edmond almost whispers, finishing his story quickly and without much detail.
Albert seemed disturbed, struggling with something internally. He sat down at the table, staring at the flickering flames, and saying nothing. Of course, there was much for him to find unsettling, and much to process from the previous days. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with open palms.
"So what now? Gankutsuou shows up at my door, telling me we should just go ahead and be together, before a random old lady hijacks my hotel room to give you some shamanistic trans-quest thing. What the hell is going on?"
Edmond didn't respond. It didn't really sound as though Albert wanted an answer; rather, he was expressing years of frustration and helplessness. The shadows splashed chaotically on the floor, made long as only fire can make them. The room was spacious, though not lavish, and felt comfortable and lived in. However, the growing and shrinking shades managed to make the interior somewhat menacing, oppressive, or panicked.
"I'm supposed to forgive or forget you. Like it's that simple." He looked up desperately, eyes rimmed with tears. "You're a fucking ass hole."
Scents of shampoo, soap, cologne musk, and candle fire clung to the air, contained and potent, as are the smells of someone new - changing a space with their presence. Slowly, the current tenant was enmeshing himself unintentionally into the comforter and carpets, amplified by his unpacked clothes strewn carelessly, but not uncontrolled, over the dresser and luggage nearby.
"How am I supposed to forgive someone who isn't even sorry they hurt me? How can I forgive someone who tortured my family, held a gun to my head, tried to kill me, and succeeded in killing my best friend!" His hands balled into fists, and his voice rose to a dangerous pitch, but within that same moment he broke apart, and his hands grasped at a paper napkin, shredding it with each word. "What am I supposed to do about loving you, seeing the good, having always seen it…"
Edmond sighed, a sultry sound, and ran his finely sharpened claws through his hair. "You were right. Albert" The back of his skull thumped very softly against the door. "You were right about what you said this morning, not all of it, but enough. If you don't care about my age, and my time with your mother, than why should I? And, after all, if I'm a vampire, what does it matter now…I'm not that man, and I'm essentially ageless." He shrugged, "those were never the issues, not really. My revenge was perfectly planned. I wasn't supposed to live afterwards - I knew there would be nothing left. It didn't matter, because Gankutsuou would be the one living. I have no drive, no goals. I was willing to pay for my sins in whatever hell might exist, I wasn't prepared to live with them, nor to face those left behind."
His dark eyes closed, and he winced, letting his body push against the door and slide to the floor. "I slipped into a less than extraordinary life, as if doing so would take away all the pain, all the hurt my life has been, and caused. Death sent me back for atonement. He said I had happiness within my grasp and pushed it away. He meant you, and the family I had made. But the thought of facing you or Haydee, managed to steal me to silence. I ran from you, a coward – as you put it. I was hiding from you, even from the fact that I was hiding at all, that I felt anything for you. However," he opened his eyes once more, to meet those of the younger man, "though we have been years apart and are well changed, you were wrong about my not bothering to know you. I had to: to manipulate you I needed to predict you, and to do that - to know you innately. That was the only hole in my plan. In knowing you, I loved you, and could not look into your eyes and harm you."
The rough carpet felt reassuring under his fingertips, and he tugged lightly at it, subtly though, as to not betray the actual intensity of emotional response. Albert's reactions were muted as well, each of them difficult for the other to read, guarded, and careful.
"I wanted to know you once more, Albert, but what I've said is true. It has been seven years, and we are each different. I am a vampire, apparently with responsibilities that I did not even know of, a demon whom I must teach, and am no closer to resolving my actions as right or wrong than I was seven years ago. Things are complicated, and the last intention I had was of hurting you further, yet I find myself inextricably linked to your pain. I hurt you with my honesty, and I hurt you with my fallacies. "
0-0-0-0
There is a pang in my stomach as I hear him tell me the truth. Yes, I want him to beg me for forgiveness; and he was right about what he'd said this morning as well - I think part of me might want to symbolically undo the pain in having him love me. There is probably something in me seeking validation in his arms. But I have, and do, genuinely love, respect, and care for him.
My anger feels less now, and I'm able to cross the room and kneel on the floor beside him.
"Edmond, you don't seem to want me out of your life, and I know I love you. I want to know you, everything – the good and the bad – and I want to accept it for what it is. I know that might take me some time, but it's true."
I can feel the ends of my teeth pressing into my lip as I bite down, nervous. Nevertheless, I force myself to continue. "It sounds like you have some important things to do, and soon. We don't know how that is going to turn out. So, why don't we take Gankutsuou's advice?" It is still a little difficult to say his name, but I'm growing used to it. "If we want to be together, let's try it. We can talk about things as we sort them out together. All I ask is you keep talking with me, being honest, and I'll do the same. We don't have a lot of time to waste, and if something happened, I would rather have spent tonight learning more about you, and caring for you, than regretting how things happened all over again."
I can see his hand tugging nervously at a loose bit of thread on the floor. It's endearing. My hand covers his, and squeezes. He asks me about Franz, about what he would want, if he would be angry. I choose to hear, or perhaps I really do, a bit of guilt and remorse. All I can say is I'm sure he understands now, and that he told me to live and live honestly. I'm not going to waste his sacrifice by being afraid to live now.
Something about what I say seems to strike a cord with him. He agrees. He actually agrees. His hand cups my face, and we kiss, slowly, meaningfully, as if to savor every second. There is relief, as well as trepidation in the meeting of our lips, but I set it aside and intentionally focus on the taste of him, of the feel of him, and drink him in as fully as possible.
We talk deep into the night. I hang on his every word. We learn new things, old things, satisfying, and inspiring things. Most things I like, and it seems he does to. He makes me laugh; and likewise he smiles small grins that show laughter bubbling under a stern surface. I cry, fretting about old pains, he holds me and pets my hair, sending shivers along my neck. Some things I am finally able to release, and perhaps forgive.
Later we make love, and I sear the feel of his weight pressing against mine into memory.
He moans at my touches, arches into my experimentations, and I absolutely melt into the safety of his body. We fondle and hold one another: grinding, groping, and groaning. His honey brown body holds me down, engulfs me, and I find myself both frightened and excited by his power, and the burning need he whispers to me. He's hard, I can feel it as he moves against me, hands grabbing my ass and pulling me close. He wants me near, quicker, and desperately. The wants he whispers, the desperations he demands – throwing off my clothes, biting somewhat harshly, soothing the bite marks of freshly bare flesh with kisses and humming.
I grow bolder, straddling him and placing my knees onto his arms to hold him down. I make him watch as I touch myself, staring him down, whispering his name. He grows steadily harder and arches, and, encouraged, I begin to slink backwards, licking and testing his body as I go. Eventually, teasingly, I kiss or lick his inner thighs, along the line of his pelvic bones, to his shaft, and balls. I try to mimic the oral pleasures I prefer, and I take one of his balls into my mouth and suck. He almost gasps, stifling it, holding onto a measure of control, and something strange and empowering pumps through my veins. He is beautiful in the candles' light, illuminated and shadowed as they leap and dance. I wrap my own hand around his member, and attempt to imitate the thrusting pace of his hips.
That is where he looses it, and I am flooded with gratification as he flips me, roughly, growls into my ear and mounts me from behind.
When he enters me I cry out a little, and kisses the back of my neck and shoulders, urging me to rock slowly and gently against him. I etch the feel of the fabric under my hands and knees into my mind, seeking any detail, any tidbit I can to hold onto forever. I suppose I don't really trust that this is real yet, that he will be there in the morning: won't change his mind and disappear.
His smooth fingers explore my body, and I submit and croon to his administrations. Edmond's skin is soft; his muscles strong and fluid, his fangs ridged as they graze my sensitive skin. When he comes into me, it's warm and ecstatic, furious, and thrilling. It brings me close, but my own pleasure comes later - into his mouth, beside carefully contained and skillfully maneuvered sharp teeth. His hands wrapping around my penis, the thrust of his powerful frame against mine, the way he gently but intentionally pins me against the bed, every detail an important note I keep within me.
Afterwards, when I can think and see again, I sleep with my head on his chest, covered in a diminutive sheen of sweat and after glow. He mutters, "I love you" as he is almost asleep, and I wonder if he actually meant to say it, but I kiss his chest, and echo him.
When I wake in the morning I have turned away and am facing the wall. For a moment I panic, for this is where reality comes back to life. My mind is sure he will be gone, and it takes me five minutes to work up the courage and turn over.
But, he is there, in the bed, sleeping soundly.
