*****

Hatred and need. Necessary Evil. And he bites his lip, draw blood and lick it up, as he thought about HIM with that pasty, pale, PET of his. Freaky or some shit. Can't remember his name and don�t want to. Walking. Forgetting. But so damn hungry. And he just fed on a delicious buffet of five.

Dismembered just like he had been taught. By HIM. And he�s thinking about it again. The way it felt to be touched. To invade. To be invaded�and FUCK. This is not what he needed to be thinking about. NOT NOW. And he puts his fist through a wall and starts to lick up the blood. Thinking about HIM. And he�s so fucking pissed. What was wrong with him? Didn�t he kill right? Didn� t he rip out the heart and stuff it down their throats just the way he was taught. The perfect student, right? The perfect pupil in every imaginable way. On his knees, on his back, in the cemetery, on top of fresh, warm, dying bodies� And a smell brings him out of his state of pathetic wanderings.

Closing his eyes he became a blind bat, seeing only with his nose. That stench. That wonderful, odious, cub stench. And it stirred feelings. Deeply in his body. Down south. And he�s pushing through crowds and ignoring the strong smell of warm essence coursing through small veins and the sounds of hearts beatings with that beat of life. Focusing on the one smell. And he is close. And he grabs the body that has it, sniffing it intently and the body is still in his arms and its heart beats speeds. And the fear is so fucking thick. And he knows who it is. Even before he opens his eyes he can sense those green spheres studying his face. Eyes open. And his lips are blistering the smaller man�s. And he�s a fucking bulldozer as he drags him through the crowd and out the door. Kissing and licking as he brings carries his cub through the streets and back to that sick place he calls a home. Its empty. Thank god, death, and satan�s little helpers. But where was HE. Probably out with his little toy. Fuck HIM.

He's got his own toy now. Sweet, small, oh so familiar. Huge green eyes sparking with delicious terror, heart thundering an erratic rhythm. Music to his ears.

Shoves his sweet little toy backwards. Pushing, prodding, hearding him towards the bed. Bed with crisp white sheats. HE likes them that way. Crisp and white and clean, show the blood that much better. Brand new ones, no one's played here yet today. Well Devon will. Devon found a way to amuse himself and if HE doesn't like it then fuck him. This is what happens when Devon gets ignored. Devon was born to be the centre of attention. Being passed over is different and strange and he definately does _not_ fucking like it.

He's the centre of someone's world right now. And he savours every moment. Every kick and struggle and scratch as clothing is torn. Every little gasp and growl as lips continually grind against lips and body grinds against body and Devon grins and hispers in his little green-eyed toy's ear. "You used to love this, Oz. Used to love fucking around with me."

"You're not you anymore." Words spit back with false bravado. Swallowed under punishing lips again. Brutal kiss that draws blood. Hot and thick and Devon can _taste_ the animal lust there. Oz the human may protest and squirm and resist. But Oz the wolf wants this. Remembers his mate's touch and taste and smell. And this time he bites back. Blunt teeth breaking through dead flesh. Blood slugishly flowing to the surface. Cool and slow moving. Flavouring the kiss even more. And Devon knows Oz is his. Beast calls to the beast. Their own personal demons battling for dominance in this now. The wolf in Oz needing to be alpha. The demon in Devon knowing that Oz will be his childe and needing to assert himself as sire.

Roling over and over and biting and scratching, small smears and droplets of blood starting to stain the sheets and Devon gives him a moment. Knows that with his size and strength he could overpower Oz easily but he still gives him a moment. One tiny moment of dominance before the demon pushes to the fore and Oz is pinned. Under a cool aching body. Under a hungry golden gaze.

A suspended moment. Oz panting, defiant, hungry. And Devon can't help but smile at the familiarity of the scene. How many times has he had Oz on his back like this? How many times will he have him again. Then a slight shift of bodies and he's shoving his way in. Savoring the yelps and groans and Oz's harsh breathing and that beautiful thundering of his heart. Pumping blindly towards oblivion. Breathing deep the mingled scents of lust and blood and the lightest faintest trace of fear. Oz still fears him, even as their bodies pound and grind together in the basest of rhythms Oz still fears him. And it's beautiful.

And the scent on the air as HE walks in�is unholy. And his face shifts even before he sees them. On HIS bed. On HIS sheets. And in that unholy of mergings. And if his blood wasn�t cold it would turn ice now. And a breeze blows. On ripping them away from each other and it�s the mortal he goes for. First. But not on his bed. He throws his wayward childe to the other side of the room. And the warm-blood is struggling under the grip HE has around his neck. But he is too clouded in anger to truly enjoy the deliciousness of the squeals and bawls and scratching. And he notices the warm-bloods hands now claws and those green turned black eyes. And he smiles. Big bad wolfie. Would go so pretty with Little Red Riding Hood. And he drags the hairy mortal to his sacred of rooms. And he is put into the Christ bed, spread eagled and chained. And the repenting begins. For thou dost not commit adultery. And thou dost not covet thy neighbors goods. And his fingernails become like knives as he rips five clean slices into that beautiful covetous evil hairy chest. And the wolf screams as warm blood spills. And he is in a moment of delight. Again and again as he makes the foul body holy and sinless. And he tears out the stomach. And then removes the arms in a swift and most painful of fashions. And in a Bacchallian frenzy he rips out every little hair and organ and bone that was once harbored and protected under the skin of that abdomen. And he�s sad that its dead. So soon? But he smiles cause he realizes. It's so beautiful now. And he posts the body next to the shivering Little Red Riding Hood. Still alive and he smiles at her and she can feel that golden hungry gaze. He licks up the sticky substance on his hands. And there�s a whimper behind him. And he knows it belongs to that foul creature. His beloved childe. And he would do anything for his childe but he is unholy now. But he is always beautiful. Cause everything that god makes is beautiful. But god is a wrathful god. He turns and Dev immediately looks down. And Jon looks at his bed again. SO FOUL. And he�s so fucking pissed. A breeze blows and he is upon Dev. And he wants to make his childe holy again. But no.

Devon is waiting for that hit or kiss. No. No kiss this time. Definitely a hit. He wouldn�t settle for a kiss. And Dev waited for contact of skin on skin. And he thirsted for it. His sire was so beautiful and essence covered and he needed him so much right now. But there wasn�t any contact. And he opened his eyes when the bed shift and his sire stepped down. Without facing Devon he spoke. �Get out.�

And when Dev does not move he screams it. And Dev is off of the bed. Out of the room and crouching on the floor beside the closed door. And he hears THEM. Hears all the anger being taken out on HIS new toy. All that anger that rightfully belonged to Dev. And Devs fucking pissed. And he hears the pet squeal and�he wants to bang on the door. Why didn�t he do that to Dev instead of his pet. He�s pacing. Panting. And he hears HIS moans and the whimpers from that PET/TOY -- whatever the fuck he called him. Fuck this. No more. No FUCKING MORE. This toy would NOT take his place. And he opened the door. Entered and the sounds were getting louder as he got nearer.

And now he was standing at the foot of the bed. Watching them. And HE never looked so beautiful as he did now. As he bit into Freddy�s � THAT�S HIS NAME � neck. And rubbed that red life all over that pale body. And Dev reached out to touch HIM but recoiled when Jon growled a warning at him. But he didn�t give up so easily. Jon would take him or kill him. One or the other. Nothing is ever in between.

And he sits on the edge of the bed. Still watching intently. His master�s body is pounding into the one beneath it. And that should be DEV beneath him. He touches Jon�s back. On that sacred of spots. And Jon moans before he realizes WHO is touching him. And Dev is against the wall, neck gripped, feet not touching the ground. But Dev is not struggling. His eyes stare defiantly into those golden blue retinas. And Jon _ should _ be ripping out the boy�s trachea. SHOULD be taking off his head and spitting down his throat. But he�s not. Instead he is letting that foul cretin down. But he backs away. And Dev moves forward. He growls and Dev stops. And drops to his knees. And Jon smiles. He likes this position. And he sees salvation in his first borne, yet. And he walks back to the bed with his shinny childe waiting in rapture. And he knows that this childe would NEVER stray from him. Never betray him. But the one crawling behind him. It's his first. And will stay as such. Never change. Ever. But hatred ensues in the twain and Jon cannot allow this. Devon could barely contain his excitement when Jon motioned for him to get onto the bed, but he stopped short and growled when he saw the PET was still there. Laying wantonly on his Jon�s bed. Jon gave him a look that sent shivers down his spine and he got onto the bed, keeping his distance.

A finger cocked in his direction. Beckoning him closer. Closer to his masters presance, but closer to that filthy little pet too. And he hesitates for only a breif moment before slinking forward another few inches. Eyes cast downward. Humbled. Repentanant. Knowing now that the punishment will come and craving it.

"Kneel. Head down." The command low and harsh and Devon's throat works convulsively as he complies. Thrill coiling low in his belly. Needing, wanting, eager now. Waiting, wanting, that first sweet touch of his master's hand. Be it a strike or a stroke. He wants it. He needs it.

"He's yours."

Head back up. Eyes wide, a glance cast over his shoulder to see an equally surprised look on that scrawny little blond's face. And Jonathan glowers. "What did I tell you?" Head lowered quickly as that deadly voice flows over him. "You're mine. To do with as I choose. And right now I choose to gift my _faithful_ childe."

Shoulders tighten. Defiance even in such a submissive posture. Defiance that is his downfall. And such defiance cannot go unpunished. Jonathan knows he's been too leniant with his first. That's the root of the problem. Allowing Devon's beauty and wanton ways to cloud his vison. Causing him to forgive far, far, to easily. No more forgiveness. Punishment mete out with a heavy hand, the path to salvation for the defiant one.

And he steps away and nods to his second one. Pale purity stained with crimson from earlier games. Devout worshiper at his feet. Smile upon the faithful and gift him with this honor. "Take him. He's yours for tonight."

The expression of bewilderment is still there. Bewilderment and awe and Jonathan snarls. The inaction annoying him. "Take him now. Don't make me regret this."

And at that quiet rage Freddy moves. Obeys. Moves in behind, accepts his gift and there's a small growl of rage, of pain, from the defiant one. Jonathan simply steping back to watch. Studying the various expressions crossing Devon's face. Fury and humiliation and agony. And as their eyes lock Jonathan smiles, kneeling in close. Their lips inches apart.

"I'm not adverse to sharing you. But it will be as I chose. With whom I chose and when I chose." His lips lightly touch the mouth drawn into a grimace before moving on, brushing against an earlobe. "You forgot your station in this unlife for a moment. I'll forgive you once. But only once. Only this one time. Never fuck with me again, Devon. Never or...."

Fangs flash in the dim light even as Freddy screams his own fulfillment towards the celing. Tearing into a pale throat, drawing a moaning cry as cool blood pulses into a waiting mouth. Thick doplets lapped up by a maddening toungue and Devon arches into the touch. Needing it. Knowing it's a sign of forgiveness. It must be. Forgiveness and a warning. Punishment ended.

Too quickly the mouth moves away. Tongue licking at the remaining traces of blood on his lips. Golden eyes gleeming with murderous intent. "Next time I won't be so kind," he hisses, focusing his attention back on the pale pretty one. Sated and licking his lips.

"He's yours until tomorrow's sunset. Do with him as you will. And you...." A hard gaze focuses on Devon once more. "You treat him as you'd treat me. If I find him dust, you'll follow. But not as mercifully. You'd look lovely in my gallery, darling. Remember that."

Then he's gone. Door closing behind him. Key turning in a lock. And Devon's eyes slide closed as he tries to keep his rage in check. Because he knows the threat wasn't idle. One little hair harmed on that empty head and he'll be sharing eternal tourment with Snow White or Red Riding Hood or whatever the fuck it was that he named the bitch.

Eyes closed, teeth grinding as slender hands roam across his back. And he knows the fucking pasty scrawny bitch is feeling all proud of himself. Knows even more that it's going to be nearly impossible to stay submissive until sunset as a taunt is hissed into his ear. "Well, what do you know. All mine. And you got a lot to answer for too...."

**

Jon walked back into the room and IT stood up to attention immediately. The smell of blood and semen attacked him mercilessly. Head turned, and he could see Freddy sleeping languidly on his bed. But where�he turned his head again and his eyes landed on his first borne huddled in a corner.

Devon shivered when the hand touched him, and he moved into a state of self preservation, bringing his knees immediately up to chest and burying his head into his legs. Another hand messaged his skull softly and he knew it wasn�t freddy this time. A soft voice shushed him and he found a blood dripping wrist being offered to him. Without a second thought he was leaning into the soft cool hand that was on his head and drinking deeply from the offered life. And it tasted too good to be Freddy. Sire�s life. �You have been good?�

And Dev nodded, still laping.

�And you want do anything unless I tell you again?� He shook his head no. But Dev knew that he was lying. He would go through all of the humiliation and beatings in the world if only to this attention afterwards. If only to get a minute taste of his master�s life. And Jon knew this also. He knew and accepted it. And he was almost sickened by the fact that he would actually take his childe back. But that didn�t matter. He would in a heartbeat. He carried Dev back to his bed, shooing the sleeping Freddy away. And he began to �heal� his childe. And YES. Dev would go through a hundred nights with Freddy if only to get�ah. And his thought was cut off by the sensations flowing through his body. Yes�he would.

End