Part 13

His excitement was still obvious as I rolled to face him atop the coverlet of my bed, he was trying not to make his breathing obvious, but his chest was still throbbing in a rise and fall of unrequited passions, and the tension was written across the muscles in his chest and his hands. I slid forward languidly, purposefully towards him, taking his square jaw tenderly between my long fingers, and coaxing him towards my mouth, where I brushed his skin with my own, my tongue whetting his lips in long strokes, encouraging him to part for me, and allow me the unencumbered entrance to his delicious mouth. As he did I let my hand run carefully down his side, deliberately not kneading the flesh or guiding him into any position but a relaxed one. I hoped it was slowly beginning to drive him crazy. He had made me lose control, and I intended exactly the same for him; at my pace. My fangs were still run out, but the speed with which I took his mouth, (and he yielded it to me) afforded no danger.

I pushed my chest against his and felt his breathing. His steady heartbeat gave me the pace to continue my ministrations across his skin. My mouth traced down his jaw line, the tip of my tongue leaving a shiny trail across the solid bone. I felt his trembling. I increased the pressure of my fingers against the hard flesh over his hip, sliding over his buttocks to cup the glorious curve and pull his pelvis to mine, eliciting a moan, and the arching of his neck against the sensation I allowed him. My fingers curved between the globes, and I felt his heart skip the same breath his chest had as I stroked across him. He pushed back against me, increasing the pressure with a moan falling from his lips. It was my turn to laugh, just quietly, as I kissed his collarbone.

"Please?" He whispered. I pulled my hand back, not to be cruel, but to rest on his hips again where I pushed in order to guide him onto his back, where my hands would have wider range to tease him. Still braced on one elbow I guided my hand to the inside of his thigh, and eased his legs apart, giving my fingers the chance to tuck nearly under him, to again caress the tender, nerve filled area beneath and between, his continued moans and the spiked tension across his pelvis driving me.

I purposely kept my fingers away from the true object of his arousal, loving the game and not wanting it to end too soon. Control was something that I had lost; to Godric, to Sophie-Anne, even to Jankin and his concealed plans. I intended to take it back. I came to half hover over him, so that I still had free reign over what I let my hand do, but remained in a position that also kept his body from moving too much. I returned my attentions to kissing him, as I stroked him, drawing my fingers from his most intimate place to the tightened muscles of his sac, a cool touch that made him jump, his hips driving into mine in a delightful way. I was becoming engorged again as well, our two members brushed against each other. His skin was so hot.

Finally I let my fingers drift onto him, and it drew such a beautiful cry that it was almost impossible to keep myself from letting go. But I held it together, bringing my face back to the angular curve of his neck, drinking in his scent deeply as I began to run my palm against him.

"Take my blood, please?" he whispered on a hesitant breath.

"Not yet." I replied, knowing that if I tasted him again in that way that it would bring a premature end to my pleasure, and perhaps to his as well. I waited, still stroking him, as his muscles began to contract, and his hips to twitch against me. I could feel every held breath, and with each one I increased my pressure against him.

"Eric." The word stumbled past his lips and I felt him give himself up to me, and only as I had that control, did I finally bite into his neck. It was not in a cruel way, but certainly possessive. As his blood flowed so did I, and so did he, pressing our flesh together as if we were one, which perhaps in that moment, we were. When I pulled my mouth away I held him until his body quieted, and for a good time past that, letting it warm me from the outside as his blood warmed me from within.

ooOOoo

I bid him sleep, he was exhausted and I still had the swords and the fire to attend to. Reluctantly, he drew a blanket around his waist, and took a pillow for under his head, leaving me the view of his chest, rising and falling slowly. His eyelids were heavy, but he fought their urgency. I put more wood on the fire, so the room would remain warm for as long as possible into the day, I knew that sleeping beside me would afford him no such comfort, but I did not want him to leave, even though he had made motions to the same when I had finally released him from my hold. I had asked him to stay, and he had acquiesced, though I do not think it would have taken more persuasion than my invitation.

I did not bother with a blanket or a nightshirt as I took to my tasks, his blood, and our play had left me warm. I saw to his blade first, taking the excess oil from it with a clean cloth then examining the four edges by the firelight. I was still captivated by its design, nearly as much as I was with the man who wielded it. It showed no damage at all, and I wondered if it was somehow enchanted against such things. The blade was sharp enough still to cut the cloth I took to its edges, and my palm but for my care in handling it. Pleased with my work I sheathed it and put it aside on the table. My own blade had not fared so well. It required honing, and I took the steel to it with broad strokes, disturbed from my work only by the motion of Jankin, who had risen from my bed, and come to stand behind me. His arms wrapped around me with some hesitation, but I softened into his embrace, which only brought him closer. His body was yielding.

"You take such care with the blade?" He observed quietly, kissing my shoulder tenderly.

"It has lasted five hundred years because of my care, I hope it will last five hundred more." He stiffened for a moment at the mention of my age. My words seemed to have injected a serious note into the evening, and sadly, not for the only time.

"What will happen now Eric, now that you are the hand of the Queen?" His voice became the quiet, hesitant one of nights passed.

I sheathed my own sword then, and laid it beside his, contemplating my answer as much as the hands that remained pressed against my abdomen.

"A great deal more politics I imagine, and counsels, and audiences." I sighed, a human throwback that seemed appropriate just then. "I imagine I will take leadership over all the warriors now, Vampire and Were together as Godric did."

"And what of Godric?"

"That remains to be seen." His hands slid down over my hips. I closed my eyes for a moment to feel him.

"As I see it," I continued, "There are two possibilities. Either he will accept the Queen's wishes with grace, and take up his new post with due care and attention, expanding the Queen's territories. Or he will see it as a dismissal from her presence, and will act as the petulant child does."

"A thousand year old petulant child with fangs." Jankin muttered. I could not disagree with the sentiment.

"Sophie-Anne's power has always been that she can keep her children with her. She inspires great loyalty in those with whom she has shared her blood."

"By their own volition?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not? I cannot say." It was another reason I had not wanted to chance drinking the contents of the phial Godric had given me.

"And if he decides that you are at fault for his being removed from the court?"

"Then I image he will send his agents against me. It remains to be seen." I set my hands firmly against the table, and it bore the heavy weight of my body and my heart.

"And what about us?"

"Being close to me may not afford you the protection it once did. When it becomes common knowledge that we are lovers," I paused, wondering if I should have censored myself before making that open pronouncement. But it was too late, and I truly did not regret the words. I finally turned in his arms, looking straight into eyes that could not help but show a little fear, sparkling with the tears of sleep. "You will be an easier target for them. But perhaps they will understand the price of harming you long before they make any attempts." I let my fangs run out, and then I kissed him hard on the mouth.

"I will not tolerate threats to those who are mine." I whispered to him.

"You think I am yours?" I watched his brow wrinkle in front of me.

"You are mine." I clutched around his back, pulling his body against me, knowing he could not break my grip, even with all of my blood that still ran in his body. I smiled at him, fangs gleaming, "You are mine, just as much as I am yours." And I took his mouth again. With understanding, he held me as well. The taste of him was intoxicating. It would have been so easy to lose myself in him again just then, but there were more things I needed to tell him.

"There is a option for you though Jankin, should you not wish to face any danger here."

"And what is that?"

"Brigant has offered you a place in his realm. He came again to speak with me, before I left the cave this evening passed. The portal will remain open for you there. He has promised his protection." Jankin was silent for a moment, thinking over what I had said. He was a great deal like me in those ways, examining the truth of a statement, and its implications before speaking.

"But for me alone, yes?"

"Yes, I am not welcome there."

"Then I cannot go." He sighed. Part of me was very happy to hear that pronouncement.

"Do not discount it entirely Jankin, it will be a safe place if things become too dangerous here. I will not lose you to intrigue or stubbornness if I can help it."

"What? You would take me there by force and toss me through would you Eric?"

"If it came to that, yes I would." I grinned at him.

"Then we must hope that it does not."

"Yes, we must." I could feel his arousal growing against me again; spurred on by our naked bodies close against each other. He most certainly had my blood in him, or perhaps it was the fairy half, but he matched me in appetites that night. I wanted to lose myself in his fingertips and his mouth.

"I want to take more of your blood." He whispered as he reached for me.

"It is too soon Jankin."

"Too soon?" Again, my words gave him pause.

"We have shared a great deal over just a few nights, if we were to do so again we could risk forming a bond that you may not yet be prepared for."

"What does it mean, this bond?" He stepped back from me. For an instant I missed his warmth. And though I felt a strong urge not to hurt him again with thoughtless words, I knew he had to have the truth from me.

"It means sharing an even greater intimacy Jankin. I will understand how you are feeling whenever I am awake. I will be aware of you no matter where you are, and when we are apart I will ache for you. You will be able to feel me in your mind as well, and you will do more than see my emotions, you will feel the depths of my passions, good and bad. You will feel the true blackness in my soul, and you may not be able to distinguish it from your own feelings when it is very strong within me. I fear that you may lose yourself, not knowing if the anger or sadness that you feel is your own, or mine." Of course, the reverse was true as well, though just then I still saw Jankin in the glow of our passions, I had not stopped to consider that he himself most likely had a dark side. Perhaps I just did not wish to have to consider it.

"But not everything about this bond can be so dire, can it?"

"No, not at all, sharing the comfort of each other's presence, understanding the passions of arousal and desire, they are wonderful things."

"You have shared this bond before?"

"I have not. It is not a thing to be entered into lightly, for once forged to break it is a terrible thing for both parties. And if one was to break it by death as I understand, the other would be overwhelmed with such despair as I cannot describe."

I looked into his blue eyes, willing him to understand my sincerity. Things were too uncertain. I could not risk it, for both our sakes, and I needed him to know that my refusal was not cruelty or selfishness.

"I am sorry." I whispered as I caressed his downfallen face. "We will share blood again, but give it some time my lover." I felt the butterfly tremble on his skin as I said the word to him again.

"There is a great deal that I do not know about you Eric."

"And that I do not know about you Jankin. But there are ways of making up for that." I kissed him again then, willing that truth to push away the serious nature our conversation had taken. After a moment I could feel him responding to me in kind, and his heart began to speed again as he allowed himself to follow me into more joyous pursuits. We began to touch each other carefully in the heat of the firelight.

As he drew his lips over my skin he whispered to me again in the language that I did not know. But that time I stopped him.

"What does it mean Jankin, Dwi'n caru ti cariad? I don't understand." I closed my eyes and let myself simply hear his deep voice vibrating against me.

"It is the language of my father. Cariad, it means sweetheart."

"And the other?" He paused, casting his eyes downwards, whispering his answer on a breath.

"It means I love you."

For thos of you who are still reading, I hope you have enjoyed this. Thank you for indulging me with this character of Jankin. Now I would like to tell you why I chose it. Jankin is an ancient form of Jack. And a special Jack has been in my head for the last 13 chapters. Jack Harkness. Maybe you know the character, maybe you don't. Look up Torchwood and Doctor Who, you'll see.

Do you want a little more? Do let me know.