*****

Oh God, his body is faintly warm and pliant in my arms, and I can't keep myself from pulling him close and burying my head in his neck to breathe his scent in. Still so human, and I spare a thought that perhaps I should have buried him.should have followed the lore. But the thought of letting anyone else's hands touch him, bathe his flesh for burial, sink him in cold earth so far from me. Well damn the lore! I want to be here for this, I want to see those grey eyes open for the first time on this new life. A life I've given him as surely as I've stolen his humanity. Rules simply don't apply to me and to mine.

To have him warm is just a bit of a novelty, and I can feel it ebbing gradually, so soon enough he'll be complete. Be the demon. Like me.

Ahh.he's just beginning to wake.I feel the subtle shift of his body in my arms, a sudden tensing as he registers the fact that he is naked, in a strange place, in my embrace. There is a sharp scent of fear, of my blood, and underneath it all.arousal.

I smile into his skin.

"You're awake, then."

Abruptly he draws in a breath and turns in my embrace, eyes open and dark with.something.

Hunger. He's hungry, of course. His tongue darts out between parted lips, almost snakelike, seeming to taste the air and a dreamy smile crosses his features.

"Blood." He whispers reverently.

I answer his smile, "Yes, lad. You're hungry for it, aren't you."

The brat looks at me impatiently, shaking his head as he leans toward me, "No. Not yet. Just." That sweet face is moving over mine, and he's.sniffing me! "It's in you. What is in you.is in me."

And leans back again, as though he has solved some eternal mystery and is waiting for my accolades, but I'm a little too stunned to respond. He's so damned calm as he speaks again.

"Who.are.we?"

Each word formed slowly, carefully, as though he thinks perhaps speech has changed for him. I'm trying to recall how aware I was when I first woke to this life, and then I remember.I clawed my way out of the grave. He has not. He died in my arms, and awoke in my arms - did I miscalculate in doing this? Should I have waited for Darla?

I can practically hear the wheels spinning in his brain as he frowns at me. He has taken my silence for some sort of rebuke and pulls himself to sit up straight and ask me, "I mean." His voice is disturbingly steady, "Who am *I*?"

I'm beginning to wonder myself who this strange creature in my bed is when I recognize his suddenly agitated movements. He finds himself leaning towards me, then pulls himself back upright. A hand, moving across the bed linens toward my chest, freezes, then is pulled back to fret on his thigh. He wants so desperately to touch me, and can't seem to comprehend why. This could be delightful.

"Who is it you'd want to be, lad?" My words are for him, but my eyes are fastened on that hand moving restlessly on his leg. I glance up to see him watching me intently, his glance flickering down as he swallows and answers me slowly, as though not content with his words.

"I dreamt." I nod to him to continue, reining in my impatience. "I dreamt I was afraid. There were.ugly things in my dream. They wanted me to keep sleeping. But.ye came."

There's a glimmer in those eyes, the demon warring with the man, his need battling with what his body wants, but his mind has not awakened to. And I really do not have the patience for this. I wrap a hand firmly around his wrist and bring his hand to my chest, placing those twitching fingers against my skin. That first touch is like a shock, and his mouth hangs open in a silent 'o' of surprise.

Permission has been granted and I am startled at his swift change. A mere moment has passed and I suddenly find myself possessed of an armful of beautiful, squirming flesh. Pressing against me hands everywhere on my skin, mouth open and licking. God yes, licking.

My body is the focus of my boy's incredible need. It is utter desperation in his wild sniffing and rubbing, his actions reckless as he grabs my arms, pulling them around his shaking form. A wild keening cry against my skin and I have to roll my weight on him just to still him enough that I can look at him.

And then he does still. Lies motionless beneath me and waits, eyes bright and shining. What was it Darla had said...Aurelius...all a little mad. Is this it? Is this what she means? As I drink in his need for me, I can't say I really care.

"You woke me." A simple statement, but I can see it holds great meaning for him. A look of consternation is on his face and he struggles for a moment and then breathes. Breathes me.

No thought in those eyes then, just a flash of feral gold and his body is fast and hard under mine that mouth grinning towards my throat. With ease I catch him short of his goal, holding him lightly but firmly, just a lick away from where he wants to be. I can feel the protest building in him, silenced before it can become a whine. Some control in him, but not enough.

My words are clear, cutting through his fog of lust, "Would you not be askin' nicely for your supper, then?"

The little beast growls at me! At *me*! Time for a change of pace, I decide.

His rebellious body thrusts up against me, and I realize the lad needs a lesson. My blunt teeth find his neck and I fasten onto the tender flesh. Worrying the skin, bruising, feeling the blood pulsing slowly, so slowly.and he stills.

He's not protesting and I bear down harder, not enough to break the skin, but close. His hips rise sharply, and I can feel the moisture leaking from his hardness. I lift my head and smile into his confusion. His mind knows this to be pain, but his new body registers pleasure.

I blink as my gaze flickers from his down to my mark. Wet bruise like a jewel on his throat, and I've never known before what it was to own.to create. I think I will enjoy this.

I let his arms up only to find them wrapped around my head and pulling me back down to the abused flesh. Too soon to give him everything he asks for, so I just lay my lips gently to skin.the softest kiss. Torture is, after all, my art.my gift, if you will.

"More.please." Sweet words from sweeter lips, but I control the game.

I move to the firmer skin at his shoulder and sink down, sink in.to fasten blunt teeth, to bruise my edible boy. More movement of that body under mine fingers scratching at my back with patrician nails. This boy is a sea of uncharted veins and willing skin and I shall map each inch with my mouth. A pleasant journey indeed.

Far from being bothered by the purpling bruises I am tattooing across him, my Penn is fighting to expose more of his body for me. Arms stretched out, legs spread for me, and I cannot help but marvel at his surrender to this. To me.

Bared for me like a willing martyr, limbs twitching under my mouth as I move across him with wild nips and tender sucks. Nothing like the cautious virgin of last night, his hunger for my touch supercedes his need for my blood. His head thrashing against the pillow, eyes shut tight, no way to anticipate my next move. I know his only desire is that my touch continue. My own needs are no less fierce as I artfully savage his perfect surface. Claim it as my own.

I've mouthed one nipple to aching tightness and settle for plucking at it with my fingers as I move lips and teeth to attack its mate. Laying my weight across his body as he twists and thrusts against me. I shall have lifetimes to catalogue each whimper, each moan, but I'm ravenous to have them all this night.

His body is slick with sweat and my spit, perfect skin ravaged by my bites, and I don't believe he could be more perfect. Until. His body arches in a frenzy of desire and untouched, he completes between us, pulsing hard and quick, his mouth open in a gasp of surprise.

"Angelus!"

Truly awake at last, my name on his lips unlocking the magic, and with some regret I feel the last bit of human warmth leave him and watch the bruises slowly fade. But one. The mark of his making, this he shall always carry with him.

"You'd be knowin' who you are then, lad?" Lazy smile as my fingers play in the liquid spilled on his stomach.

That brilliant grin meets me, and I don't think I could ever tire of it.

"Penn. I am Penn. Yours." Added quietly, "Your Gem."

God, yes, and I need to hear that, hear those words from him, and there isn't much I want for in this existence that I cannot just take. But it is not just the words. It is the way his young voice breaks when he speaks them. All that pride offered up in such a delectable parcel.

I'm hovering above him, just drinking in the smile on his face, the sex on his skin.bending down to press my mouth to his. Tongue into that grasping wetness, content to let him suck until I feel those long, clever fingers wrap around my aching hardness. Buck into that tight fist and whisper into his ear, "Want ye, boy.want you all."

Huff of breath against my cheek, "Yes..please."

That's my polite lad, but I've no use for niceties at this moment.

"On your knees, Penn."

He scrambles to obey eager and panting.god; I love the way he needs this. Needs me.

Wrap an arm around his waist and pull him flush against me. "You'll spread those legs for me, won't you?"

Soft whimper as he shifts, pressing himself into my shaft, nestled so nicely in his cleft. I placed a hand between his shoulders and push him down so his forehead rests on the bed, my thumbs move to pull his flesh, exposing his aperture. Demon or no, I am mindful that he is still young, still not at his full strength, so I bend to pick up the vial of oil I used last eve.

As I move, my heart is torn and delighted by his cry, "Do not leave!"

Christ! I love the ragged desperation in his tone, and it cost him much just to utter those words, for he's silenced himself now with a clenched hand at his mouth. Somehow, he's managed to be the boy I seduced and the demon I created. I couldn't be more delighted.

I do not answer no need really, for his trembling stills as my hands return and I tap an oiled finger against my prize. That small muscle contracting around my intrusion needily.

"You'll open for me, Gem." No question there.

Oh, the sweetness of his body bearing down, pulling my digit into that tightness! Feeling each pulse of his body echoed in the readying of my own flesh thrusting against his solid thigh. Less gentle with another finger, for I yearn to be inside, but my lad just thrusts himself back harder with a deep grunt.

Disciplined as I have been with him, I can hold back no more. Ignoring his gasp, I draw my fingers free and grasp his hips, pulling him back. Onto me. No resistance and I am seated in him so deeply. So tight, and I am undone by the wanton movement of his backside against me. Pulling back, almost out, taunting us both, then slamming back with punishing force until he is prostrate beneath me. Cannot help but place my hands firmly on either side of his head and pummel my hips forward.

Precious sounds of his moans reach me through this blinding lust, cannot help but call to him.

"Am I striking something sweet in you, lad? Is that why you're groaning for me?"

Gasp of breath like laughter escaping those lips, "Yes.Yes! This is what you promised!"

I smile as I bend to lick my mark, livid and bright on his throat. "Where am I, Gem?"

No answer, just a desperate drive of his body up towards me. This won't do, I asked a question and expect an answer. I still my body, pinning his under my weight.

Frantic keen as he tries to find some friction, finally forming words, "In me.in me.in me! You are in me!"

Low chuckle against the nape of his neck before I nuzzle the hair aside so I can lay lips to skin. I taunt him with lazy, shallow thrusts, my hands belying my need as they tighten convulsively on his hips. Bruising that pale skin, I know, but gratified to feel the rough shove of his body against my own. The boy's harsh breathing is a goad for my lust.

Good boy and I reward him with a ferocious shove that shakes us both

"You'll have no fear of words with me, my Gem. No shame in asking, or giving."

To test my point, I pull him up, his arms moving to steady himself, and now there is no friction against that pretty cock of his.

"Please, please, please.touch me!" The sob of need in his tone makes me smile.

"Shhh, 'tis well, Gem. Do not fret." For I have you. I shall keep you.

My hand moves to pull at his turgid length, matching the movement of my cock pressing into him. His body rocks at this two-fold assault, and even as I feel him spilling into my fist I treasure the tremors of his muscles as they spasm around my length. One last tug at his softening shaft before I move strongly into his grasping hole. Spending myself against those tight walls, moving more gently as my pulsing slows, finally pulling away and settling against my boy.

Eager eyes turn to me, shining with questions, "Angelus."

"Yes, Childe?"

That stuns him for a moment.

"Childe?"

"Aye, lad. You are the Childe of my blood, I am your Sire."

"Sire.yes.that sounds right."

"I am glad it pleases you." I answer dryly.

"Sire." Voice firm around the word. I believe I like hearing it fall from his lips as much as he enjoys using it.

"Sire.I'm hungry." His gaze flickers to my neck.

"Time to hunt then, isn't it lad?"

Flicker of understanding in his eyes. Good, I'll not coddle the boy.

"How?"

Strange economy of words from the preacher's son who talked my ear off in that coffee house for a fortnight.

"Perhaps we shall call on your family this eve, then?"

His mood changes like lightning, and I sense the demon, but it is the man's voice I hear.

"Yes. I think have something to tell my father.and you'll be by my side."

Almost a question, but not quite.

"Aye lad, wouldn't miss it."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Merely two hours hard ride on horseback, but Penn has been anxious, barely speaking, except to respond to my occasional comment.

As we dismount I place a hand on my lad's shoulder, "This is no longer your home, Childe."

Calming at my touch, he turns to me with a strange expression, "Was it ever?"

"Listen to me Penn, this is not your home, not your family...you will have to be granted entrance."

Just a nod as he understands, and he moves silently to a window at the side of the house, lamplight flickering there.

"Mother!" he calls out loudly, forcing himself to sound out-of-breath, "I need to take the horses out back, one's gone lame. Father has brought home a guest and asks shall you let him in and ready some supper."

"Welcome son, I'll see to it." Comes the tremulous reply.

I spare a thought for the cleverness of his plan...far more seemly for him to request access for a stranger than himself. And supper to boot.

Moments pass before a pinch-faced woman answers the door to me, and invites me in, her body shaking with some wasting sickness. I sketch a bow and thank her kindly, not ready to alert her just yet. Her eyes brighten briefly as I feel my Childe behind me.

"Don't just stand there, son. You must be freezing, Come in and get your friend get settled by the fire."

Silence. I wonder if anyone speaks freely in this house. Penn seems amused as he waits for her to speak.

"Where is your Father, then?"

He cocks his head quizzically at her question, peering at her as though for the first time. I don't believe he has even heard her question. He steps closer and I can see him breathe deep as alarm spreads across her wrinkled features.

"Penn? My child, what's wrong? What ails you?"

It was the word. The name. She shouldn't have used it, but how could she have known? He's young. He's starving, and I can feel his hunger from here. But does he feed? No, he snaps her neck and watches the body crumple at his feet with a moue of disgust.

This is the strangest creature I have made. He stands before me, over the corpse of his mother, then picks up the body and sits her gently in a worn chair. Carefully folding her withered hands in her lap before he turns to me. Slowly he smiles then silently signals for me to follow him. Curious, I do.

It's a tiny room, two small beds with white linens and soft white coverlets. A boy and a girl, sleeping peacefully, pink cheeks, red lips, and when they open their eyes, somehow I know they'll be huge and grey like his.

He is incredibly focused on his task, moving swiftly to the smallest one, the girl. The change comes over him swiftly, and he's tearing into her neck savagely, blood spurting as she jerks and whimpers. I can hear the slender bones breaking and his hushed curse of frustration as her blood spills too quickly for him to drink. He stands, staring down at her, at the mess he has made of her.

There is a soft catch of breath behind me, and the little brother is staring at the monster over his sister's body. Penn is drawn to the sound like an animal to prey, his face shifting back to normal as he murmurs soothingly to the boy. Perhaps addled by sleep, the child accepts the change, sensing only his brother in the darkness and quiets under the gentle petting.

I sit on the edge of the bed; a strange observer in all this until Penn turns his gaze on me.

"Tell me." He whispers, "How do I do this?"

Grasping his hand, I press two fingers to the pulsing life. "Just here, at the throat. Feel that?"

Strong beat, steady.

"Yes." My earnest and attentive student.

"Good. Bite. Do not tear. Let his heart do the work, let it come to you."

He does as I instruct, bending himself over the sleeping lad in an economy of motion. In a moment it is done, and he stands up, as if waiting for my approval.

No roses left in the pale cheeks, and I feel a great sense of pride in my boy. Slowly I pull a slim blade from my boot, showing it to him before I carve a shallow cross on the cool cheek of his brother's corpse.

"Why?" He stares at the tool in my hand, reaching for it as he frowns. I let him take it.

"Call it my sense of humor, if you like."

Stiffly he moves to his sister, imitating my desecration. He sounds almost numb when he speaks, and I don't believe he even knows he is speaking.

"Every night before we sleep, Father comes in and blesses us." He places his hand on his own forehead. "Just here." Slow grin sliding across his face, "I think I understand your joke."

It is so easy to match his smile, "You do learn quickly."

"My Father would disagree."

"Ah then, it is perhaps time you shared with him what a fine student you've become."

His head jerks towards the front room, the most delicious gleam in his eyes.

"He's here."

Bursting through the front door, the old man sees only his recalcitrant son.

"Boy! What business do you have leaving me in the city? I searched for you for hours, although God only knows why I wasted the time! You made me look the fool, and that is something I will not stand for!"

Penn stands patiently, just watching the man, his eyes darting after each wild gesture.

As the preacher's eyes adjust to the darkened room, he finally sees me, and almost chokes on his anger as he turns back to his son.

"You bring a stranger into our home? At this ungodly hour?"

"Ungodly indeed." That is not a smile that stretches his lips across white teeth.

"You will call me Father or Sir!"

"I will call you nothing." In a fluid move his hand is around the man's neck, and Penn's face is still unchanged. Strange.I would have thought he would have relished his Father's shock and revulsion at what his eldest has become. Nothing. No gloating. Just a twist of his wrist, and the last living thing in this house is dead. He turns to me, his eyes empty, but his hand outstretched for mine.

I have to ask, I have to know, "What do you feel?"

"...nothing...."

I believe him. There is none of the smug triumph I felt at disposing of my own father in his face. No reaction at all until I take his hand, and pull his body to mine. That touch is all it takes, and it is as though something in him is unlocked. That young body is rocking into mine, his hands moving roughly over my jacket and that sweet mouth tipped up, seeking mine.

Fierce, hungry kisses, and this is not the same creature that stood before me a moment ago. This is a wild, needful thing. This is mine. I brush my thumb roughly over my mark on his tender throat and his head tilts back with a desperate gasp. So exposed, and I cannot help but wrap my hand around his nape and hold him like that, open for me.

"What do you feel?"

"Oh God.everything!"

I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice and I have to feel those lips on me. In concert with my desire he pulls my hand towards his mouth, and there are puffs of air across my fingers before he draws two into his mouth. Fascinated, I watch those lips suckle round my fingers wetly. Pulling me in, his tongue flicking between and I'm aching and thrusting into his hip. Wicked, wicked smile around my fingers as he begins a slow slide down to his knees.

Moist sound of him releasing my hand as clever fingers undo my fastenings and before I can speak, mistakenly thinking he requires some guidance, that mouth is on me. Tongue pressing against the moisture he finds there then sucking so strongly I have to move, thrust forward, and he accepts. Takes me in, swallows me down lest I choke him. In him again and I never want to be anywhere else, never want to have anything less than his complete focus on me.

I have to tangle my hands in his hair just to steady myself, remind myself that this is mine, and I will have it, have him, whenever and however I wish. My boy's a mind reader, for the hands that had been gripping my hips drop to the ground and he rocks back on his heels. Waiting. For me.

So I grasp that head harder and thrust past those sweet lips and take his throat, relishing in his sweet whimpers and complete submission that no one else has ever had. Ever will have. Because he is mine. Fierce creature, sharp mind and soft mouth all mine. There is this tremendous feeling of pride and lust that wells up in me, and I lose my rhythm as his strong tongue moves, pushing up against my throbbing vein. For a brilliant moment there is nothing in the world except for his mouth on my cock, willing and wet. Then with a sharpness like pain I feel my body tense, my seed spill, my hands moving to caress his head as he chokes and tries to swallow. Fear at that, but he takes it. Takes everything.

I slip from his mouth far more gently than I entered it, and fastening my breeches I crouch beside him. My fingers brush sweat-clinging curls from his forehead and he moves into my touch, nuzzling against my palm like a pet. Those lips that have been stretched by my tongue, my fingers, my cock, are bruised and brushing wetly against my skin as he whispers, "Home."

And I know he doesn't mean this little hovel of death.

Like a sleepy child he looks at me, "We can leave now? We can go.home?"

God yes, because home means getting us both fed properly, and naked, and in my bed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

My boy is suddenly awake again as we finish stabling our mounts. Well-fed now and smiling as I push him through the open door into my home, as eager as I am to get upstairs.

I follow him in and almost stumble against his frozen form, and I see where he stares. At the chair. Where Darla waits.

Quite suddenly he's moving, fluid and graceful towards her, drawn to her as he should be. I can hear his sigh as he picks up her offered hand and raises it to his lips.

Her light laughter seems to shake his composure and I think he really sees her, sees who and what she is for the first time, and steps back.

"God."

Her smile brightens at that inappropriate name.

"God isn't here, young man. Quite honestly, I have seen enough - no, done enough that I doubt he ever was."

He hasn't heard a word that has passed her lips, he is completely entranced by her movements as she stands and begins to circle him. Trapped completely, and I understand the thrall that is Darla and pity him not one whit.

His eyes follow her hungrily as she continues to inspect him, and then the most amusingly forlorn look is on his face as she turns away from him, toward me.

"My darling boy...you *have* been busy while I was away."

As if sensing my Childe's need she touches Penn gently, and he leans into the touch, bends with her every movement.

She laughs, "Lovely...lovely...tell me, Childe....how does he kiss?"

*end*