| Latest Stories... |
Happy Birthday, Baby [Slash, Westlife, Kian/Shane, NC-17] Kian let himself into the hall of his house. It was 2am and he was just back from the night out to celebrate his birthday. To go home to an empty house was such an anti-climax to a night out. He was tired. And he missed Shane. Shane. He had had to leave the party early, having other engagements at home. Of course, everything had changed now. He remembered back to this day 3 years ago, when Shane had surprised him with a romantic candle-lit dinner in their hotel room. And the years before that… always something nice. But the last two years, Shane had been but one of his party guests, and they had parted ways for the night. He missed Shane. When Shane had left, at 11pm , he had felt the pain of their separation more keenly then he ever had before. He wanted Shane tonight, he needed to feel his strong arms enfold him, he needed the closeness, the intimacy, the love. ... continue ...
Good to Embrace, Good to Love [Slash, Vampire Chronicles, Lestat/Armand, R] I stepped out of the shower, carefully as I had managed to slip a few days ago. I had done many stupid things the past week, it was as if I could not concentrate on anything. I was so lonely. When Louis and David, my beloved fledglings, had left me to return on my own to our New Orleans home, I had not protested. But I had hoped that they would be back by now. I made my way into my bedroom. I had lain out fresh clothes on a bed – a black velvet suit, a crisp white shirt, a blood-red silk scarf. I was not planning on going out tonight. Being among mortals only heightened the loneliness, the sense of isolation. Mojo would be alright in the old garden. Perhaps I would seek him out for company later. ... continue ...
The Night That Followed [Slash, Vampire Chronicles, Lestat/Armand, R] I open my eyes slowly. For a moment I have no clue where I am. I smell blood, the blood of another vampire, and something is tickling my neck. I look down; steady, violet eyes gaze back at me. Lestat. He is tracing the vein in my neck with his finger. “Morning, beautiful. Or rather, goodnight.” His voice is so soft as he smiles at me. I remember now. I remember my aching loneliness and my longing for another. I remember the memories which came to me in my dreams; the young boys on the pyre and my years of penance and suffering in the underground. I shiver as the images flash through my mind. He pulls me closer. “Hush. It’s all in the past.” His lips touch my brow softly. I relax against his comforting body. ... continue ...
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