our curious spells

Saiyuki fic: Merry XXX-mas

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 21:54:05 GMT

Dear friendslist, season's greeting! We wrote porn. Saiyuki Christmas porn, to be exact. It's a little late, due to life, but we do hope you enjoy!

Title: Merry XXX-mas
Authors: emungere and louiselux
Pairing: Gojyo/Hakkai
Warnings: explicit m/m, AU, some smooshiness

Summary: Sanzo runs a stylish and tasteful male escort agency. One Christmas Eve, Gojyo gets an unexpected assigment...

The offices of 'Man About Town' were small and cramped and at that particular moment were full of men. Jo sat on a hard plastic chair and watched Shadwell running through the evening's assignments with a sense of growing doom. The scent of whiteboard marker pens filled the room, mingling with about seventeen different brands of hair gel and aftershave.

Shadwell wore a Hawaiian shirt and offensive pink Keds and an offensive attitude. He had scowl that could melt plastic. His so-called nephew sat cross-legged like a monkey on a stool next to him, grinning under his mop of shaggy brown hair. What the hell kind of person thought this was suitable work experience for a kid anyway? Jo studied him. He was a nice kid, too loud and dumb for his own good though. He didn't look anything like Shadwell. Not even slightly. Jo sunk down in his plastic chair. Nothing good could come of thinking too hard about that.

"You can wear the goddamned costumes or you can not get paid," Shadwell said, with an air of a general marshalling troops for the big push. The grumbling died down, but only slightly.

Christmas Eve was usually a good night: most people were in a good mood and wanted someone to take to cool parties or out to dinner. Jo usually made enough in tips to take a holiday in January and lie on a beach for a few weeks. But this one was shaping up to suck hard. Jo eyed the rack of waiting Santa costumes. Next to him, Kobe was putting gloss on his nails and the sharp smell of polish cut through everything else. Kobe caught his look and scowled, and Jo abruptly remembered that he owed him his leather shorts back.

"Uh, sorry," he said. "Next Monday?"

"Whatever. Just get them dry cleaned first," Kobe snapped, then went back to looking like a henna-red ice princess.

"Okay," Shadwell said, pointing a marker pen at them threateningly. "Listen up. You can see the Santa suits and you know what it means."

"Oh god," Jo muttered.

"Tonight's the night you make their wishes come true and fill their stockings up to the brim," said c, to more or less total silence. An evil smile curled across his lips. "That's your official spiel. Stick to it."

Jo closed his eyes briefly. It didn't help.

The costumes had red spandex tops trimmed with white feathers. The pants were red...something. Vinyl, pleather, he really wasn't sure. They stuck to his legs and had him sweating inside of five minutes. The boots were some equally slick and plasticky material. Jo usually went for jeans and a tank top, or maybe a nice suit. He'd never had any complaints. Nobody was even going to want to touch this to take it off him.

He glanced in the cheap, wavy mirror as he walked out. He had to admit, it looked kinda hot, at least from a distance. But still. Fill their stockings to the brim? Shadwell was a menace. He pulled his overcoat on, checked himself again, found he looked more like a flasher than an obscene elf, and headed out.

In the car, he looked at his first address. Some fancy apartment building in the business district. He hoped there was a parking garage close by. The temperature was in the twenties and still falling.

By the time he was halfway there, the snow started turning to ice. It stuck to his wipers and glinted sharply in the amber streetlights, winking at him with a hint of threat. If he got stuck at the first guy's place, there went his vacation plans.

At least there was valet parking, and a nice canopy so he didn't get iced on. Excessively shiny elevator, old guy with a shiny watch worth more than Jo, apartment 518. He glanced up and down the hall, slipped his coat off, and knocked.

The door opened a crack. "Ah, no thank you," someone said. "I've already got one."

"Huh? I'm from Man About Town."

The door opened a little wider, to reveal a tallish thin guy with dark hair and a peering expression. He wore a baggy cardigan and old jeans. His hair was all plastered to one side like he'd recently been sleeping. "Oh. I beg your pardon."

Jo smiled. He'd never met this one before, and the guy was kind of cute in a where-are-my-glasses-oh-they're-on-my-head kind of way.

"I'm here to, um, fill your stocking. To show you my yule log."

"I beg your pardon?" the guy said, again. His mouth fell open a little, like he'd never even heard of the concept of smutty innuendo. Jo took a step back and checked the door number and name. Yeah, this was the right one.

"I'm a Christmas fairy," Jo said, starting to sweat in his pleather and spandex under this guy's dumbfounded gaze. "A gesture of good will and all that shit. Stuff. From the agency. The escort agency."

"Oh," the guy said, squinting. "Sex. I see. You'd better come in then."

The guy's apartment, although quite a good size, was basically made of books. They filled the shelves, which went from floor to ceiling. Where there were no shelves, they were stacked against the walls in top-heavy piles. Some of the piles had toppled over, and the books had slithered to the carpet.

Jo stood in the middle of the room and looked around. His pants made little squeaky sounds when he moved. Expensive looking Chinese vases stood on expensive looking side tables, and paintings hung on the walls. Under his boots was a rich, red, Turkey rug.

"Um. It's only sex if you pay," he said. "Otherwise it's just a strip."

The guy pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses from the pocket of his grey cardigan and put them on. His slippers were going at the toes. Despite it all, he was kind of weirdly hot. Jo didn't know how he was managing it.

"Well. Hm. I imagine you'll be glad to get out of those clothes, at least."

Jo shifted uncomfortably. Too true. The feathers were seriously making his neck itch. He nodded. "Yeah. So. Should I...show you my Christmas spirit?"

"What's your name?"

"Just call me Kris Kringle." Jo winked. It was a good wink. He'd practiced it. It didn't seem to have any effect at all. Maybe the guy needed a new prescription for his glasses.

He tried again. "Uh. What do you want it to be?"

"I want it to be the actual name that your mother gifted you with when you were born."

"Oh." He lied about his name to clients usually, but no one'd ever asked him quite like that before. "It's, uh, Jo."

"It's very nice to meet you, Jo. I'm Hector." He held out his hand, and Jo shook it. "You may remove your clothes whenever you like," Hector continued. "Would you like some music?"

"Whatever you'd like, I'd like."

Hector smiled. "Oh, good. I'd like some eggnog, and the last batch of gingerbread men should be about done. I'll be right back, please do sit down."

Jo stared after his grey-cardiganed back for a second, then shrugged and sat down in the single armchair. It had lumps. Some of the lumps were books, Jo found out after some wriggling. One of the lumps was a small shiny silver and black PDA. It made several desperate-sounding tweedling noises when Jo touched it, like it was long neglected and wanted attention. He put it down, because Hector was pushing back through the door.

He was carrying a red plastic tray, the type that Jo recognized from about every cheap cafe he'd ever been in. The sweet smell of baking wafted in with him and Jo inhaled a little too deeply. It was a nice homey smell, or at least like he imagined home might smell. His place never smelled like that. Hector smiled down at him and thrust the tray in his face.

"Please, take one," Hector said, in an almost threatening way.

"Thanks," Jo said.

Hector sat on the sofa across from him, took a cookie and began to dismember it. There was an odd, peaceful little pause then. The room was warm and the vast amounts of paper made Jo feel like he was in some sort of strange grotto. A book grotto. Through the clumsily drawn curtains Jo could see ice forming in sparkling patterns on the window panes. Hector was looking at him over his glasses.

"Is that costume comfortable?" Hector said, gesturing with a gingerbread leg. "It looks like it might chafe."

"Kind of does, a bit," Jo said.

"I've always thought it was an odd custom."

"To dress in pleather?"

"To adopt an early twentieth century advertising man's idea of how a long dead Greek bishop might choose to dress for the cold weather."

"It's just a dumb outfit," Jo said. He bit the head off his gingerbread man. "I don't even want to know what that all meant."

"You're very forthright," Hector said, chewing slowly.

"Comes with the job, I guess." Jo's eggnog delivered an unexpectedly fiery kick to his stomach. Hector leaned forward and poured him another from the heavy green glass jug that sat on the tray. "Hey," Jo grinned. "You don't actually need to get me drunk, Hector."

His gaze strayed to Jo's spandex clad chest. "I am well aware of that, believe me."

Hector had a good smile, Jo thought, like he was maybe laughing at you, or himself, or everything. It was hard to tell. He was handsome, too. He had really nice skin and his eyes were pretty and long-lashed. His hands looked strong. Jo got another hot little kick in his stomach that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Hector kicked his slippers off and drew his legs up to sit cross-legged on the sofa. Two books slipped off onto the floor and landed with their pages open.

"Hey, let me get those," Jo said.

"Oh, don't worry. Have more eggnog."

"Ooh, thanks. It's good."

"I made it myself."

They looked at each other and drank more. There was an awful lot of eggnog in the jug. Hector didn't seem in any hurry to get things moving. He seemed more interested in sitting and gazing dreamily at Jo, which, yes, was a little unnerving. He drank more eggnog to compensate and his stomach gurgled. He was wondering when the stripping should start when Hector silently offered him another gingerbread.

"Maybe I should turn up the heating," Hector said. His eyes looked a lot darker now. "If you're going to be naked."

"Um. It's quite toasty." It was, especially with Hector looking at him like that. It was very...warming. "I think I'll be okay."

Hector set his cup down and wandered over to a low, dark, wooden table. It had curly legs and was bearing a load composed of more books and a record player. There was no CD player or anything. Hector scrabbled through a pile of records until he said, "Ah!" High ethereal voices drifted from the speakers. Choir boy voices, sounding like angels.

Jo helped himself to more drink. "There's no way I'm gonna strip to choirboys," he said, and then giggled, because it was funny. Hector smiled along with him, nodding.

"No, but would you let me undress you to it?"

"Huh. Is that what you want?" Jo said. "Most guys want me to do all the hard work."

Hector smiled down at his cup of eggnog. "Undressing you doesn't seem like it would be a tedious task."

Jo almost wanted to blush. "Heh. I-- Well, thank you. I like the music."

"Good." They smiled at each other again. The music was beautiful in a way he didn't have proper words for. It made him feel calm and safe. "Are you sleepy? You look tired."

"Nah, not really." He laid his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. He could sleep, he thought. It was so warm, and the alcohol gave him a nice buzz. He'd been working all day already, down at the bar. "You don't mind that I'm not naked yet?"

"Not at all." He felt Hector come close and then his cup was taken from his fingers. He didn't mind. "You're very lovely, even in those clothes," he heard Hector say, as he slipped into sleep.

He woke up some time later. Hector was stretched out on the couch, a book propped on his chest. He glanced at Jo.

"The bathroom's through the red door," he said.

"Oh, damn. Sorry, I never meant to sleep. What time is it?"

"Ten thirty."

"Crap! I'm supposed to be done with like three jobs by now." He rubbed a hand over his face. The corner of his mouth was wet, and he hoped he hadn't been drooling.

Hector shook his head and nodded to the tiny television that sat in a corner on a platform of books. The weather guy from channel 13 was earnestly imploring everyone, with a background of direly flashing police and ambulance lights, to stay indoors and keep warm and safe. The camera panned around to show the glistening coat of ice on the roads, a hapless pedestrian trying and failing to stay upright nearby, and a downed power line.

"Wow. Looks bad."

"You'd better stay. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine," Jo said automatically. He started to get up, but Hector was faster, unfolding himself from the couch and moving quickly to stand between Jo's legs.

"Yes, you will." He caught the hem of Jo's horrible shirt and tugged it up and off over his head. "Tell me, am I allowed to touch you during this free show?"

Jo nodded, even though it was kind of not true. A little touching, yeah, to build up the tension and get them excited enough to go for the full package, but not like this. Hector's warm hands smoothed over his stomach and chest, fingertips catching against his nipples. He kissed Jo's stomach, and then his shoulder, and pulled the ridiculous Santa hat off. The boots were done away with as well, and Hector knelt and looked up at him.

"Stand up, please."

Jo stood, legs a little wobbly with sleep, cock starting to take an interest. Hector's forehead rested against his thigh for a moment, and then Hector's hands were working on the huge patent leather belt, pulling it open. He eased the pants down and kissed Jo's hip, which definitely wasn't allowed touching.

Even the underwear had a band of white fuzz to top its red satiny fabric. Hector rubbed his cheek against it and looked up at Jo, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Every one of your past customers is getting a...visit from Santa tonight?"

"Yeah. Well. That was the plan, before the storm hit."

Hector smiled. "How lucky I am to have gotten you out of all the ill dressed young men in red suits roaming the city even now."

He pulled down Jo's pants and underwear in one go and helped him step out of them. Jo could feel warm breath on his cock.

And then Hector stood up. "Would you like a robe?" he said. "I can heat up some soup for dinner."

He wandered off to another room, leaving Jo alone with his half-hard dick and his near-terminal case of confusion.

When Hector returned, he helped Jo into a scruffy blue robe and got them a couple bowls of lentil soup. Jo pulled his feet up on the chair and braced his bowl on his knees.

"It's really good. Um. Thanks."

"You're quite welcome."

Jo slurped soup for a minute or two.

"Hector?"

"Hm?"

"Uh. Never mind." Jo looked at Hector in his glasses and cardigan and thought he probably didn't even know that most guys would've fucked him and kicked him out hours ago. No cookies, no eggnog, definitely no naps. He looked down at his soup. The stripping had technically been completed. "So, what d'you wanna do now?"

Hector looked at him, then pawed briefly through a TV listings guide. "The Charlie Brown Christmas Special is on."

"Oh, cool."

"You won't be able to see it from over there." He shifted on the sofa, making room. Jo finished the last of his soup and then padded over. "Will you change the channel to 23, please?"

The TV had big buttons and Hector gave him a blank look when he asked where the remote was. Peppermint Patty flickered into freckled life on the tiny screen.

Hector sat close to him, his breathing slow and even, so much so that Jo had to keep checking to see that he was awake. He looked engrossed.

"I don't like Snoopy," he said, after a while. He put his hand on Jo's thigh, quite casually, and stroked. "He's too smug."

"Yeah? Not sure about that. He's more philosophical. He thinks about life. Not like Charlie Brown. Dude's a whiner," Jo said. They glanced at each other and then they both smiled at the same time.

"It's A Wonderful Life is also on," Hector said. "Would you?"

Jo considered the buttons. He stabbed at some and the screen fuzzed out. "How old is this thing anyway?" he muttered. He tried a few more and found Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn sailing down a river in the jungle.

"This okay?"

"Yes, fine. I won it," Hector said, patting the sofa next to him, "twenty years ago."

"Huh. What for?"

"I wrote a poem in high school and it won a competition. It's the only thing I've ever won."

"Is that what you do, write poems?" Jo said.

"No, I'm a teacher."

"Like, little kids?" Jo couldn't picture it.

"No," Hector said. "At the city university." Jo's robe had fallen open across the thigh and Hector smoothed his palm down Jo's leg.

"Hey," Jo said, and turned to look at Hector, which meant they were almost nose to nose.

"Should I not touch you?" Hector said, with a faint anxious look in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Jo knew he should be making a deal and stating terms and payment amounts and shit like that. What came out was: "No, it's good." His voice was rough. "I like it. Don't stop."

Hector moved closer with a soft sigh. He left his hand where it was and they watched the film. After a little while, Hector stretched out and pillowed his head on Jo's lap.

"Hey..."

"You don't mind?"

No, he didn't, he just wasn't used to it. He looked down and shook his head. He put his hand in Hector's hair and began to stroke it.

"Afterwards, do you think they stay in Africa and sail boats and stuff?" Jo said, when the credits rolled.

"Maybe they go back to England and have babies."

"Nah," Jo said, looking down at Hector's face. Hector met his eyes, then reached up to touch Jo's hair. "I bet they want more adventure," Jo said. His throat was dry. His cock was getting stiff for no more reason than the way Hector was looking at him, and Hector could probably feel it.

"It's past midnight," Hector said, softly. "I want my present." He turned his head to the side and nuzzled through the fold of Jo's robe and Jo felt a hot, wet lick on his cock.

"Oh my god," Jo whispered, as Hector turned over and pushed the cloth away and mouthed at him, soft wet kisses on the base of his cock. "Yeah."

Hector stopped, then pulled back. "Oh. I don't have any condoms," he said, against Jo's thigh.

Jo started to say that he did, before he remembered that he'd left the completely ridiculous Santa sack in the car. Usually, the condoms lived in his pocket, but the damn pants didn't have pockets.

Jo touched his hair, stroking floppy strands of it back from his forehead. "How often do get checked?" he said.

"Not since my last, ah, one night stand. Six years ago."

"Holy shit. Six years since you fucked anyone?"

Hector blinked up at him, anxious again. "I'm very busy with my work."

There was no reason to trust this guy. This was stupid. He was always so careful. He touched Hector's wet, parted lips, and Hector's tongue curled around the tip of his finger, so warm and slick.

"Okay," Jo said. "Yeah. It's okay."

Hector smiled at him and slid his cheek across Jo's palm as he turned back to Jo's dick. His tongue was just as warm and slick there, and it felt even better. Jo touched his hair and the back of his neck. Hector hummed happily and slid his lips over the head of Jo's cock.

"That's nice, that's good," Jo said, uselessly. He touched Hector's back, palms flattened on the immensely soft knit of the sweater. Hector licked and sucked, and his hand curled over the top of Jo's thigh, fingers pushing against his flesh. "Jesus," Jo whispered. "Don't stop. Take your shirt off. Fuck."

Hector chuckled and planted a sucking kiss next to his hand on Jo's thigh. "All three at the same time?"

"Shhh, not used to... You're throwing me off here. Usually it's, you know, wham, bam, thank you, ma'am."

"Mm," Hector said. He caught the ends of Jo's hair and tugged him down into kissing range, lifting himself up on one elbow. He tasted a lot like eggnog, and Jo kept his eyes open to watch the dark blur of his lashes against his cheeks. It felt weirdly important, like something he'd want to remember later. Hector kissed him almost delicately, drawing back a fraction after each press of lips until Jo was nearly bent double following after his mouth.

Hector smiled and kissed the head of his cock instead. He stopped briefly to slide off the sweater and t-shirt before bending down again.

Jo's hands drifted over the warm skin of his back, and Jo's eyes slipped closed. Hector made a soft, pleased noise when Jo cupped the back of his neck. He slid his mouth over Jo's cock and closed his lips firmly around the base, and sucked.

It seemed to Jo like surely he'd need to breathe or back off or something any second now, but Hector kept up the perfect, strong suction, the slide of his tongue, and then Jo was digging his hands carelessly into Hector's hair, hands shaking a little, going to pieces. His breath stuck in his throat as he came. He was pulling Hector's hair too hard.

"Sorry," he gasped, "sorry, sorry."

Hector licked his lips and looked up at him with an almost sly smile. "You don't need to be. That was the reaction I was going for, you know."

Jo tipped his head back against the couch and laughed, breathless. "You're--fuck--you're pretty good at that for not having done it in six years."

"I had a great deal of time to study the proper technique," Hector said, and Jo couldn't tell whether he was joking or not. He nestled his head on Jo's bare lap again and stared up at him.

"Heh. I don't know whether to be happy for me or sad for you about that." Jo slid his hand down Hector's bare chest. It was a really nice chest. He ran his fingertips through the thin line of hair that began below Hector's bellybutton, stroking down.

"I don't know either," Hector said. His voice was husky and he made a soft sound when Jo reached down and cupped the outline of his cock through his jeans.

"You're amazing," Jo said. Hector gave him a wry little squint. "Hey, I mean it."

"I could suck you again," Hector said, pushing his hips up. His gaze didn't waver. It was hot and direct and gave Jo little post-orgasmic tingles in his stomach.

"Yeah? You could suck on my cock all night, I wouldn't complain." Hector gave a desperate sounding little moan then and licked his lips. Jo smiled and leaned down over him, close enough to kiss. "You like that idea?" he said, softly. "That I want to put my cock in your mouth again, like right now?"

Hector nodded, and then moaned when Jo spread his hand over the front of Hector's jeans and rubbed hard. He slid his other hand into Hector's hair and held his head firm while he kissed him, thrusting down into his mouth over and over until Hector was almost twisting up against the hard press of his palm. Their lips slid together hard enough for Hector's sharp teeth to dig into Jo's upper lip.

"You can fuck me too," Hector said. It came out slurred, like he was having trouble even speaking. He was panting.

Jo knew how to get people hot, and okay, he was using some of that skill on Hector, who hadn't even screwed anyone for years, but still. Jo's heart rate was picking up and blood was pumping back into his cock. One of Hector's hands was curled around his wrist, clinging on, and the other was jammed between them, and he was stroking Jo's chest as much as he could in an awkward curled up fashion.

"I don't wanna make you wait," Jo said. He dragged Hector's jeans open, shoving his hand down into his underwear. Hector was close to coming, Jo thought, so close his body was almost quivering with it. Jo knew. Jo could tell. Jo made guys do this every fucking day. Not like this though, really not like this.

"Jo," Hector said. Jo kissed him again, then turned Hector's head so his mouth slid over the end of his cock.

"Suck me now," Jo whispered, pulling back to watch.

Hector gasped and nodded and opened his lips. He couldn't manage anything more than soft uncoordinated licks along the shaft, and hot damp kisses, because Jo began milking his cock with hard tight squeezes, touches he used on himself sometimes when he wanted to come hard and fast. Hector moaned long and low when he came, Jo's shaft sliding over his mouth and the soft skin of his cheek.

"Oh my god," Hector whispered. He slid his eyes shut and lay still and heavy in Jo's lap. "Oh my god," he said again, almost to himself, and his warm breath puffed against Jo's erection. He brushed his knuckles against Jo's chest. "You're amazing."

Jo slid his fingers through the sticky mess on Hector's stomach. "You gonna sleep?"

Hector opened his pretty eyes and smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners. He turned his head a little and rubbed his cheek against Jo's cock. "Maybe. I'm not used to this sort of thing." His smile was gorgeous, Jo thought. "Would you be very angry with me if I did?"

"Nope," Jo said. "I can wait."

The slow spread of Hector's smile was worth it. His eyes closed again, slowly, and he made a softly satisfied sound. Bit by bit, his head grew heavier in Jo's lap until presumably he was asleep.

Jo curled bits of Hector's hair around his fingers and watched it escape to fall smoothly against his head again. There was something on TV about volcanoes. Jo tried not to snicker and therefore bounce Hector's head as he watched a computer generated reenactment of one blowing its top. The narrator said 'spurting' at least three times.

After a bit, he reached for the box of tissues and tried to clean Hector up, but he wasn't sure there was much point. They were both just going to get messy again.

That made him smile helplessly at the lava fields on the TV screen and wonder if this counted as a Christmas present. And if it did, for which one of them, because Hector was clearly more in need, which made him wonder how exactly he'd gotten on Shadwell's Christmas card list. Had Man About Town even existed six years ago? And anyway, Hector had said one night stand, not call boy, and why lie when Jo was, well, yeah. Huh.

He was thinking about it so hard that he was now frowning at the volcanoes. When Hector reached up and touched his cheek, he jumped.

"Do you want to go?" Hector asked. His index finger brushed over Jo's bottom lip. "It's all right if you do. I won't make a fuss."

He sounded utterly calm about it, as if nothing could matter less. Jo swallowed. "You're the one who said it wasn't safe."

"I'm sure it's not," Hector said. He tilted his head towards the television. "All that lava. Your car's probably all melted by now anyway." And then he smiled, and Jo had to smile back even though his chest was so tight it felt like someone was sitting on it. He really didn't want to leave.

"The last guy, I mean from Man About Town, what did you-- Did you?" he blurted out. Neither of them had said anything about the money or the sex or anything, and now... Now he had.

But Hector only curled on his side and kissed Jo's stomach. "It sounded so simple. I suppose that's the point. But in the end, I think I only embarrassed both of us. I did pay him, but only for wasting his time."

Maybe it was a good thing money had come up, after all, because it let Jo say, "Don't pay me."

Hector smiled up at him with bright eyes and said, "Well, I haven't wasted your time."

It wasn't all that funny, but Jo laughed anyway, a release of tension that felt exactly like shoving someone invisible off his chest and giving them a good kicking. "Do you have more eggnog?" he said. "Because I just thought of this plan that involves getting you drunk and taking you to bed."

Hector widened his eyes and put a hand over his heart. "My god," he said. "You're brilliant." He smiled. "Yes, I have rather a lot as it happens. It's all in the refrigerator though, which through some lack of foresight I have left in the kitchen."

"I don't think it would fit in here. Or go with your--" He waved a hand around at all the books. "Decorative motif?"

Hector sat up abruptly. "That's where I left Euripides!" he said, and bounded toward the kitchen. He returned with a pitcher of eggnog, two glasses, and a book that he dumped on Jo's lap. Jo yelped. The book was cold.

"Was this in your fridge?"

"Yes. Here, drink your eggnog."

Jo did, and shook his head. "How do you even do that?"

"Oh, it's a very simple recipe, just eggs and--"

"The book! In your fridge!" Jo said, completely unable to stop grinning.

"It's a play, actually. About crossdressing and sex and ritual murder."

"Wow. Really?"

"Oh, yes. I'll read you some later if you're good."

"Baby, I'm the best," Jo said.

Hector climbed into his lap and slid his hands into Jo's robe. He nudged the glasses with his foot and they chinked with a small bright sound like they were toasting something all by themselves. Hector leaned in and kissed Jo's neck. "I'm prepared to believe that," he said. He slid his palms up over Jo's ribs and he made a small appreciative sound. "You've got a lovely chest."

"Thanks," Jo said, sucking in his stomach and flexing slightly. "I work out."

He licked Jo's ear, hot breath tickling, and pressed closer. "It's very nice. I'd like to come all over it, Jo."

Oh, dear god. Jo slipped his hands into the back of Hector's loosely fastened jeans and cupped his ass. Blood was pulsing straight to his cock, bypassing his brain with a merry fucking wave. Hector arched his back in a sinuous slow movement. For someone who hadn't fucked anyone for six years, it was awesomely erotic. The book was still pressed between them, a cold patch that was getting warmer all the time. Jo pulled it out and heard Hector's soft pleased laugh in his ear.

"I want that too," Jo said. He pressed his mouth to nearest bit of Hector's skin, the base of his neck, and sucked, then did it harder when Hector arched his neck to the side. He tightened his grip and pulled Hector closer. "God, I want you."

"Let's go to bed," Hector said, sounding urgent. He pushed Jo's robe over his shoulders and down, leaving him naked. His breath caught and he stroked both hands down Jo's chest to his stomach, just catching the sides of Jo's cock with his finger tips. "Now."

The volcanoes were still erupting on TV as they staggered though the door into the bedroom. It was hard to move with Hector twisting round him, kissing him and touching him. At the bedroom door Jo had to pause, just for a moment. There were books on the bed, and they were scattered all across the place where another person might go.

Hector pressed up behind him and took Jo's cock in his warm palm. "Mmm."

"You-- Oh-- sleep with books?" Jo managed to say.

"They're easier to deal with than people," Hector murmured.

"Easier? Oh, god." He leaned his head back on Hector's shoulder.

"Mostly. I can move them if they bother you."

"Don't care," Jo said, and he didn't, not even a little while later with the cold hard spine of one jammed under his ass. The others had ended up on the floor in fluttering heaps. Hector straddled him, his warm thighs rubbing against Jo's and both hands on Jo's chest. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open and he was sinking down achingly slowly, lashes fluttering and tiny beads of sweat forming on his upper lip.

He curled his fingers so that his nails dug into Jo's skin. He moaned faintly and let his head fall back. "Oh, so good," he whispered. The muscles in his thighs were trembling as he lowered himself, wildly hot and tight, and slicked with oil because they couldn't find anything else. "This is so good, Jo."

"Come on, give me more," Jo said. He stroked Hector's hips, feeling the play of his muscles. Hector rocked back and hissed through his teeth as he sank down to the base of Jo's cock. He bit his lip and shivered a little, settling further. He'd been hard when they started and now he was soft. Jo cupped his cock in one hand.

"Okay?" he said, softly.

Hector nodded, cheeks flushed hectic red. His eyes glittered under his lashes. "I haven't done this for a long time," he said. "It feels strange. Good but strange."

Like you, Jo almost said. He closed his eyes and let himself feel Hector's smooth skin. Hector's cock was thickening in his hand as he groped it. Blood throbbed in Jo's veins with almost impossible pressure. Hector made a soft noise and tensed around him, then settled more.

"I can feel your pulse," Hector whispered. "Inside me." He touched Jo's nipples, rolling them between his thumb and finger. He arched his back and they both made almost the same sound. "So hot," Hector breathed.

"Yeah, you are," Jo said, and caught Hector's brief wide smile. "You gonna ride me?" he said, and he took hold of Hector's waist. "I want you to fuck yourself on me."

Hector moaned again, staring down at him. "Do you always talk like this in bed?" he said, in a wavering kind of voice. He was moving now, in slow short downward thrusts. He was fully hard now too, and his cock jutted out, hard and red. It looked awesome, Jo thought. He wanted it. Maybe in his mouth later, yeah. He swallowed and looked up. Hector was watching him, his face serious again.

Jo shook his head on the pillow, and Hector reached forward, a little clumsily, to touch the spill of his hair. "No, it's just you," Jo said.

"Oh," Hector whispered. He closed his eyes very quickly and bit his lip, and Jo hooked a hand round his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Oh," he gasped.

They moved fast and hard after that. Jo couldn't keep himself from holding Hector tight and still and fucking up into him with hard fast desperate strokes, his hips slapping against Hector's ass. Hector moaned low and braced himself, letting Jo do what he wanted, gasping and sucking at Jo's mouth. He came on Jo's chest, and so hard that some of it even licked up over Jo's cheek.

"Oh, fuck. Gonna fuck you hard," Jo said, not able to think. He flipped them over and got Hector on his stomach, all languid limbs and soft little sighs and moans. He slid back in one long slick thrust. Hector moaned again and caught Jo's fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking them in.

"I can't take much more," he said, against Jo's fingertips. His breath was hot and when Jo touched his back it was damp with sweat. "It's too much-- Oh-- "

"It's okay, baby. It's okay," he mumbled. He didn't even know what he meant, just that it really was okay, everything was. He shifted his hips, settling deeper so that Hector made a muffled whimpering sound. That was all it took. He thrust again and came in a dizzy hot rush with Hector still sucking on his fingertips.

"Oh, that's nice," Hector whispered, pressing his cheek to the pillow. He turned to look over his shoulder, Jo's fingers slipping from his mouth, and Jo leaned down and pressed their mouths together. Hector was shaking under him.

Jo pressed his forehead to Hector's damp skin for a few seconds, finding his breath again. He pulled out soon after, taking it slow and careful, but Hector winced a little anyway.

"Sorry," Jo said.

"No, don't be," said Hector, rolling over to sprawl on his back. He yawned and stroked Jo's thigh as Jo kneeled over him. "You were wonderful," he said, smiling.

"Yeah? Really?" Guys had said stuff like that to him before, but it'd never made him grin like he was now. Hector giggled, which was crazy cute, and Jo leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, loving the softness of his lips and the slow kisses Hector gave him, each one so gentle and sweet.

"Yes, really," Hector murmured. "Do men tell you things like this all the time?"

"Well. Yeah. Sometimes. Uh." He pressed his forehead to Hector's and grinned. "I have to piss."

Hector watched him from the bed, head propped on his hand. In the bathroom, Jo peed and then washed a little. Afterwards he pressed his forehead to the cool mirror and looked into his own eyes from close range, so they were blurry blobs. He didn't know what he was doing here, with Hector.

Hector was waiting for him with the covers turned back. They lay side by side, facing each other, with the blankets pulled up to their chins. Hector moved close, letting his leg slide over Jo's. They looked at each other across the pillow. Outside, wind rattled the window panes.

"Where would you be now?" Hector said.

"Where would I be?"

"If you hadn't been trapped here by deadly ice."

"You make it sound like killer bees or something."

Hector touched his mouth and waited.

Jo closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against Hector's hand. "Dunno. I do whatever the client wants, mostly. Sometimes they just want an escort to a party or whatever and that's all. Or just dinner out and conversation."

Hector stroked his cheek. "And sometimes it's, hm, what did you say? Showing off your yule log?"

"Christmas special. There was gonna be a lot of that tonight."

"Followed by a lot of sex."

"Yeah, probably." He opened his eyes. Hector was very close, almost as close as Jo's own eyes in the bathroom mirror. "It's not so bad," he said. "I mean, it's fine."

"Mm," Hector said, and ran a hand through his hair. He did it again, and again, and Jo shut his eyes. It would be easy to sleep, he thought.

"It's kind of fun sometimes," he said. "The fancy parties. Even the sex."

"Sometimes is better than never, at least," Hector said, quietly.

"Yeah," Jo said. "I guess."

"You might have to stay tomorrow too."

"I'd like that."

Hector stroked his cheek. "We could have more sex. I promise to make it all highly enjoyable."

Jo smiled into the pillow. "You don't have to promise anything."

"I'd like you to promise me something," Hector said.

"Huh?" He wondered if Hector actually wanted to see him again, or if he was going to ask Jo to promise not to tell anyone they fucked, or if he wanted Jo to quit his job, or what. None of that really sounded likely. Well, maybe the first part, just maybe. Jo wasn't thinking about that.

"You must tell me if you want me to stop," Hector said. Jo had time to wonder stop what and picture about ten bizarre sexual fetishes before Hector had flipped open his cross-dressing grisly ritual murder play and started reading to him.

"I've arrived here in the land of Thebes, I, Dionysus, son of Zeus, born to him from Semele, Cadmus' daughter, delivered by a fiery midwife--Zeus' lightning flash..."

His voice was soft and deep, and he sounded happy. That, more than the actual words, followed Jo into sleep.

Cupidity - Q&A

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 16:46:11 GMT

We've had a few requests for a question and answer post, so, um, we'll do our best! Ask away. :)

Cupidity - twenty seven, the end!

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 22:32:37 GMT

Previous chapters here.

Robin showered with him and kissed him, dressed, kissed him again and then left. Angel showered slowly and then wandered about in Robin's robe again, touching things, looking at the art on the walls. It was all modern and abstract.

He explored Robin's library. The leather bag was sitting on the floor, filled with Alberich's books. Angel took them out and sat on the leather chair and smoothed his hands over them, then held them to his chest, which was a weird and stupid thing to do. Eos had stepped in front of her own arrow for Alberich. His eyes got hot, and his jaw ached suddenly.

A collection of things, Rose had called this place. It felt just as she'd said, and Angel couldn't forget how Robin had paid for all this.

In Robin's room, the picture hung dark and huge on the wall and for a long time Angel sat on the floor and stared into the tangled and twisted branches until he saw what was different. There were hard edges in the trees and flecks of broken glass on the forest floor, shards of concrete behind the tree trunks. Shadows changed as he watched, like there were things moving.

He didn't mind it, he'd said. It was true, and maybe that was the problem. He could step into it any time he liked and maybe find Eos waiting. Getting older. He leaped up and almost ran out, slamming the door behind him.

He dressed and sat on his own bed, the contents of his kit bag spread out at his feet. The stupid five grand was looking more dog-eared and grimy than before. Angel picked up the Pez dispenser and put it in his pocket. Everything else he tucked into the drawer in the bedside table.

On the balcony the luxuriant foliage gleamed at him as if freshly polished, which it very likely was. Central Park stretched out below him, a green gem in the towering grey city, and Angel wondered how he was going to bear to live here.

He went down to the 7-Eleven and got Pez to stick in Marvin the Martian's head. The cashier was the same girl as before, with all the lip rings.

"You okay?" she said. "You look like shit."

"Yeah. Um. I was... There was a fight."

"Did you win?"

"Not really sure."

He went to the park and sat on a bench and fed the ducks Pez. No one yelled at him this time, though more than one person glanced his way. He wondered how bad he really looked. There were no bruises, or none he saw when he looked in the mirror.

He was still there hours later when Robin sat down beside him. The sun was setting. He could see shards of pink and orange reflected on the lake. Robin touched his shoulder and said nothing.

"Good day at work?" Angel asked him.

"I've been looking over some things. It might be prudent to sell the jet and the yacht. If that's all right with you. I didn't really comprehend how much it cost to keep them up."

"Why're you asking me?"

"That's the other thing I did today." He put his briefcase on his lap and pulled some papers out. He handed Angel a pen. "Sign here."

"What? No. Why?"

"Because you trust me."

Well, that just wasn't fair. Angel lasted about ten seconds under Robin's steady gaze before he picked up the pen. He signed in a bunch of places, initialed in more, until he reached the end of the thick stack of paper.

"So? What was it all?"

"Half of everything I own."

Angel shook his head and stared. "I don't want-- Why would you do that?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do. I don't want you to have to worry, ever."

He wanted, badly, to make Robin take it all back. Rip up the papers. Something. It made him worry more, not less, like he was responsible for something now. And when he looked at it that way, maybe he should keep it. He couldn't expect Robin to just take care of him forever. Not when Robin needed taking care of nearly as bad as he did.

He nodded. It was very close to dark now. Shapes lost their edges and turned blue and shadowy. Everyone who passed looked like one of Rose's women.

"I am different," Angel whispered. He looked down at his hands. "I don't know if I can stay here. In the city."

"We can go wherever you like." Robin paused. "I have business in Utah. We could stay there while the penthouse sells. And perhaps..."

"You better not be taking this where it sounds like you're taking it." Thunder growled in the distance, barely audible over the traffic noise. Angel shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

"You have met my family."

"Not like I had a choice."

"All the same--"

"They'll hate you. They'll hate you just because you're with me."

"So?"

"What do you mean so!"

"It doesn't matter what they think of me. I'd just like to meet them. But if you really don't want to, we needn't go."

"Why would you want to?"

"Because they're part of you. Don't you understand me better, having met Eos and Alberich?"

"You're nothing like them!"

"Well, I am. But that doesn't matter. Whether I am or not, whether you are or not, our families are part of us."

Angel wanted to argue with that, but he couldn't. Even leaving his own family out of it, Rose had called him brother, and Eos was part of him in an uncomfortably literal way. He could still taste her blood at the back of his throat, and he wondered if that would ever go away. And if he thought about it like that, surely his own family shouldn't scare him anymore.

"Okay. If you really want to. Just--I don't know. Don't leave me alone with them."

"Not for a second." Robin took his hand, thumb smoothing over his palm. "Are they so bad?"

He thought about what Alberich had said and remembered his mother crying for Neil after he left. "I don't know anymore. I don't know shit. I want to go home and I don't even know where that is."

"Maybe I can help you find it. As you've helped me."

It made Angel smile, despite everything, despite himself. "Yeah. I guess maybe you can." Or have already. He didn't feel quite ready to say that part out loud yet. "It's not like in the movies, you know."

"What isn't?"

"The whole happily ever after thing."

"Ah, I see." Robin was smiling. "And what is it like?"

Angel looked down at their joined hands, weirdly embarrassed to meet Robin's eyes. "Maybe... Maybe it's just like this."

"Well, you'd know best, I'm sure. It's not as if this is some sort of fairy tale."

Angel snorted and elbowed him gently in the ribs. Robin settled against his side. There was quiet for a few minutes.

"May I ask you a question?" Robin said.

"Shoot."

"Why did your brother leave home?"

"Oh." It was funny, but he'd never told anyone before. Everyone at home already knew and no one here cared. "His girlfriend Sam--Samantha--she got pregnant. And he helped her with the money for the abortion and stuff. And Dad was just... He was awful. Her parents were bad too, but Dad was worse. They ran away together. I don't blame them really. I just wish... He could've sent a postcard or something," he finished, in a mumble.

Robin put an arm around him. "You believe they're still together?"

"I think so. It was kind of love at first sight. You hardly ever saw them apart." They'd made quite a sight, too, with Sam clocking in around five foot one, and Neil over a foot taller, his hair dark and hers as red as Angel's. When the three of them had gone out together, everyone had assumed he was Sam's little brother. He smiled, remembering.

"Good. That will make them easier to find."

"...What?"

"Unless you'd rather not? I didn't mean to presume."

"You can do that?"

"I think it's very likely. I've found people with far more reason to hide than your brother has."

Angel stared for a few silent seconds, wondering how he'd never even thought to ask for this. He leaned close and pressed his face to Robin's neck and squeezed his hand tight. "Thanks. Thank you. I mean. A lot. Yes, please."

"You needn't-- I don't need thanks." Robin rested his chin on top of Angel's head. "I'd do anything for you."

"I know. You don't have to."

"I know that. I think I do, anyway. Now. But even so."

Angel sort of wished he didn't know Robin really meant anything. It was scary and too much, and at the same time it was exactly what he needed to hear. Everything with Robin seemed to be like that; perfect and terrifying all mushed up together.

He wished he had anyone he could talk to about that. Maybe Neil if Robin found him. Or when. With Robin it would be when. Part of the scary-perfect thing. Yeah, Neil should understand. He hoped.

Robin sat back, settling close and warm next to him. "We should give the ducks more nutritious food in future," he said. "Pez will make them ill."

"Yeah."

It was getting dark. In the distance Angel could see the top of their building glimmering against the dusk. People wandered by, fewer of them at this time of night.

"What would you like to do?" Robin said, after a while.

"I'd like to go for a walk in the woods," Angel said.

"Now?"

"No. I can wait. But soon."

Cupidity chapter twenty six

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 22:14:42 GMT

Previous chapters here.

All comments and feedback are welcomed!

"So, thanks," Jenny said.

"For what?" said Robin.

Her shoulders were drooping and her skin looked gray, even though she'd wolfed down two bowls of pasta and a piece of heavy sticky sponge cake. It must be the pay-off for whatever she'd done to Rose, Angel guessed. They were sitting in her bar. Angel had had four brandies and was starting to wonder if curling up right here under the table would be allowed.

"Nothing. I was being sarcastic." She was rubbing her thumb over Robin's palm. "You get me in the good books of the fairy queen and now she's my new best friend," she pointed out, giving them a glowering look.

"I'm sure I didn't do it on purpose," Robin said. "It's hardly my fault if she's drawn to you."

"Yeah," Angel said. "It's your fault for being a witch. I mean. Kind of."

She scowled at them, then let go of Robin's wrist. She was silent, looking down at the table.

"What is it?" Angel said, finally.

"Nothing," Jenny said, looking at Robin. She drew in a breath and smoothed her palms together. "There's nothing bad there. Well, not very bad. I think it used to be a lot worse."

"Are all your fortunes like this?" Angel said. "Because you might want to rethink them."

"What do you want me to say? You're going to get married and get a house in the country? Well, you might," she said, with a faint smirk, but it faded quickly. She stared down at the crumbs of her cake as if they held the answer to something. "I hope you do," she said, finally.

Robin folded his arms across his chest and bit his lip. He flicked a glance at Angel. Angel stared down into his glass, seeing glints of fire in the golden swirl of the brandy. It was easier than meeting Robin's eyes.

"I haven't changed," he said, because it seemed important to say that out loud. "I'm still that same."

Jenny touched his hand. "That's not true."

Angel swallowed down a mouthful of his drink, and it burned down his throat. "So what do I do about it?"

Jenny shrugged and finished her brandy. She put it on the table with finality. "Go home. Live your life. You'll be fine."

He still couldn't quite bear to look at Robin. He had no idea what any of that meant, now. Everything was different.

"Angel," Robin said, and the hesitancy there prickled on Angel's skin.

"Yeah, sure," Angel said. "Let's go."

Jenny kissed Angel on the cheek and shook Robin's hand. Already, a couple were edging forward to speak to her, looking hopeful.

"What are you going to do?" Robin asked her.

"I'm staying here," Jenny said. "I've got horribly vague fortunes to tell, among other things."

Out on the street the air was mild and full of confusing scents, of bars and people and life. It was noisy too. Well dressed people wandered past, and no one was dripping blood or was made of shadow or had feathers stuck all over them. Robin stood close by, and finally Angel met his eyes. Robin smiled at him, only it didn't look very convincing.

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"We could go home tomorrow, if you'd like that?"

Angel nodded and something unknotted itself in his chest. "Yeah," he said. "It's good with me." There wasn't anything else for him to do.

The hotel had a new doorman. A detective in a crumpled black suit wanted to question them about the shocking murder. The lying was almost the worst thing, Angel thought. No, they knew nothing, they said, cobbling together their answers using English and fragments of the odd slurring Spanish they spoke here.

They fell asleep together in the huge bed, too tired to hardly even touch. Angel woke twelve hours later, swimming up from sleep to see the morning sun gleaming through the pale curtains, and to find Robin curled up against him, his dark head tucked against Angel's chest. He was breathing deep and slow. One of his hands was on Angel's waist and the other wedged between them.

"Hey," Angel whispered, feeling silly, because Robin was still asleep.

He cupped the back of Robin's head, stroking the delicate curve of his skull. His hair was soft, a little longer now than when they left New York. The spiky tips of it were growing over his ears and down his neck. He had a faint trace of stubble on his cheek. He was clearly one of those guys who grew nothing but a few straggly hairs. Angel traced a finger along the sharp line of his jaw. Robin had sweeping pretty girl-lashes as dark as his hair, a long narrow nose, soft lips that were slightly parted in sleep.

Across his forehead there was a frown line that sleep hadn't smoothed away. It deepened for a moment, until Angel stroked over his temple, tracing lightly with a fingertip. Robin let out a sigh, and the line faded.

Half asleep again, drifting, Angel could feel the bright edges of something in his mind, if he looked. He didn't know what it was, but he thought that right now that didn't matter. He ran his hands over Robin's skin, loving the smoothness at the base of his spine, the slight coolness of his thighs and ass and the warmth of his stomach. It began to get him hard, just touching him like this. It was good, but he was too exhausted to do anything about it, and anyhow Robin needed his rest.

He kissed Robin's cheek and Robin made a soft sleepy noise and moved closer, seeking comfort and warmth in his sleep. Angel was more than happy to give it him.

Later that day, a car took them to the airport where the private jet was waiting. Robin was dressed in a new dark suit, sharply cut and perfect. He looked as polished as Rose ever had, apart from his slightly unruly hair. He hadn't said much to Angel, and they had touched hardly at all since they'd woken. They flew back through the night, with dawn chasing them all the way.

Marco was waiting for them at JFK and Angel felt like hugging him, just because he was alive and not eaten by Rose. He drove them silently back to the city. Robin stared out of the dark tinted window at the city, and Angel wondered what was going on in his head. Angel wasn't going to ask, because he didn't even know what was going on in his own.

The apartment was exactly as they'd left it, apart from a note from Mrs Benoit saying that the vacuum cleaner needed replacing and the waterfall had a faulty nozzle and had been switched off in Robin's absence. The place echoed with their footsteps.

Angel put his kit bag down on the floor and shivered in the cool air. This wasn't home, he knew that much. He wished for a moment it was even as familiar as Alberich's mound or Eos's woods. He kind of knew where he was there, at least, and what to expect.

"This is strange for you, I know," Robin said, softly.

"Yeah. For you too," said Angel, and saw Robin's small nod.

He moved to the kitchen. There was food in the refrigerator, all freshly stocked by Mrs Benoit, probably. He switched on the gleaming silver coffee machine and filled its water tank. Then he began began opening cupboards and drawers. He found cups, fine white china ones with a silver rim, and then a packet of coffee beans. Not the cat crap coffee, he was relieved to see.

"What are you doing?" Robin said, coming up behind him.

"Trying to get this thing to work," Angel said, stabbing at the buttons. One of them blinked at him, a bright emerald green. "There's no point in having it if it you can't use it."

"We could go out for coffee. You don't have to make it."

"I want to make it," Angel said.

Maybe there was something in his voice, because Robin backed off. The machine spat steam at him and he spilled coffee beans on the counter. His brain hurt. He wanted to sleep again, and for a long time.

Robin was sitting on the sofa, gazing that the huge blank TV. He looked sort of lost, sitting among all this stuff he owned and didn't care about. Angel gave him a cup of coffee and sat next to him.

"What would you like to do now?" Robin said, after a long time.

"I dunno," Angel said. The coffee wasn't helping. It was actually having a reverse effect, and now his eyes ached. "Sleep more?"

Robin nodded. "I should go into work at some point," he said.

Angel drank more coffee and thought about that. "You mean you actually have a job? Like a real job?"

"Yes," Robin said, with a frown. "Of course. I said. Logistics and brokering."

"I kind of thought that was like a euphemism for--" They hadn't talked about any of it since they were last with Jenny. Being here, it seemed unreal and Angel didn't even know if he should bring it up. "For what you did for your mother," Angel finished.

"Oh. I see. No." Robin looked down at his cup. "Quite early on I found that it helped me to have something real to do."

"Do they know you had another job?"

"No," Robin said, and smiled. "They think I'm the son of a gold mining magnate."

"I suppose that's not far from the truth."

"Not far. But not close."

Angel stared down into the dark dregs of his coffee. "What's going to happen to them now?" he said. "I mean, your mom's human and stuff."

"Do you think I shouldn't have left her?" Robin said, very quietly.

"I-- God, I don't know," Angel said. At the far end of the apartment, sun fell through the huge windows. He thought of the rain and wind buffeting through Rose's tower. "Maybe, maybe not."

"She might be happier now," Robin said, and it was almost a question.

"Yeah. Now she's free."

Robin nodded quickly and then drew a shuddery breath. "I can't do anything to help them." He dropped his cup, or rather he let it fall. It cracked into two and coffee splashed across the floor. "I don't want to. I can't." His voice broke on the last word.

Angel caught him by the hand and pulled him up. Robin came, and Angel put his arms around Robin's neck.

"It's okay," he said.

"No-- "

"Shut up. It's really okay. It is. Don't argue."

Robin leaned against him and sighed against his neck. He raised both hands and stroked Angel's hair and pressed closer.

"You can do anything you like," Robin said, close to his ear. "Go anywhere, buy anything you want."

Angel drew back a little. "Hey, no. It's okay. I mean, what about the--the money?"

"I want you to be happy," Robin said. "The money's not important." He bit his lip and gave Angel an anxious look. "I have quite a lot, still. Enough for us."

Angel shook his head. "I don't want your money."

Robin wrapped both arms round his neck and clung on. He tightened his arms convulsively once, then drew away.

"I should shower," he said.

Angel caught his arm, pulling him back. "No, don't," he said, watching Robin's eyes widen. "Not yet."

Angel leaned in and kissed him, feeling the faint tremble of Robin's hands on his shoulders. He put his hands on Robin's hips and walked him backwards, their mouths joined, until they pushed through the door into Robin's room.

"Angel," Robin said, his voice hot.

"Lie down," Angel said, and Robin just did, like he'd do anything Angel asked.

Behind them he could sense the dark and glowering expanse of the picture. He stared down into Robin's eyes instead, and they were as green as any forest he'd ever seen. He traced the fine line of Robin's jaw and his mouth and the long curve of his brow. There was something wild in Robin's face, something of his mother.

"I want this," Angel said, quietly.

"I know."

He stripped Robin out of his suit, tearing his shirt around the buttons, and threw off his own clothes and then stretched out beside him, letting his hands map the slight curves and flat planes of Robin's chest and stomach and thighs. Robin turned towards him, pressing his face to Angel's neck. Angel hooked an arm round his narrow shoulders and drew him in close.

"Oh, god," Robin breathed. "Oh, god. Please."

"Please what?" Angel said, sliding his hand between them and stroking Robin's cock with quick tight strokes, squeezing too hard and fast, he knew that. Robin arched up hard, gasping as Angel found his mouth again. He dug his nails into Angel's back, harder when Angel rolled on top of him and nudged his legs apart, settling his weight between them.

"Angel," Robin whispered and then moaned faintly as Angel cupped his jaw and slid his tongue into his mouth. His lips were soft and a little wet, his mouth warm. He was trembling, making little convulsive shudders. "Angel," he whispered again. He drew his knees apart so that the smooth warm skin of his inner thighs slid against Angel's legs. "I just want-- " He paused, his voice grown small.

"Yeah, I think I know what you want," Angel said, and kissed him again, listening to the small needy sound that Robin made. Then he reached over and tore open the drawer of the bedside table, fumbling with the little blue and silver bottle. He squeeze some on his fingers and knelt between Robin's thighs, curled over him so he could kiss him and feel his moans as he slid one finger inside him. Robin was so hot inside that it felt almost unreal, burning heat and silky smooth tightness as he moaned and twisted against Angel's finger, sinking himself onto it.

"Please, give me more," he said, in a shuddering breathy voice.

"Yeah," Angel whispered. He pressed his forehead to Robin's chest and sucked at his nipple, then licked his way blindly up, biting at his collarbone and sucking at the taut line of his neck. He stopped when he got to Robin's mouth and pulled back. He needed to look at him.

Robin clutched at his shoulder and whimpered and stroked himself with one hand, his teeth sinking into his red and swollen lower lip. Angel worked his fingers in and out, watching the way it made Robin tilt his hips and spread his legs. The tip of his pink tongue ran across the edge of his teeth, and his eyes fluttered closed.

He didn't have to ask Robin to turn over. He did it himself, with a dark and burning look over his shoulder. He arched his back, spreading himself a little and Angel almost had to take his hands away and cover his eyes and just breathe.

"God, you're beautiful," Angel said, and he felt it as much as he had with Eos. More, even. Much more.

He kissed down Robin's spine and licked at the knobs of bone just under his skin. He pushed his fingers in again and watched Robin's body tighten around them, watched his back arch and his head dip down towards the sheets. Even the curve of his back was so perfect Angel felt like he could just look, for quite a long time. But Robin was making small, impatient noises, and Angel could hear the rush of his breath and the rustle of tiny movements against the sheets.

He shifted closer and touched Robin's thighs. They were shaking, just a little. He swallowed hard and wished he could see Robin’s face right now. Or maybe it was better that he couldn’t. This already felt like almost too much.

"You let anyone do this before?" he said, running his fingers across the shallow dip at the base of his spine and then lower, gliding on damp skin.

"No."

The word was small and muffled and it made Angel lean down and press more kisses to his back. He let himself rest there a moment, letting Robin take his weight. "Not even in that fancy boarding school, huh?"

Robin shook his head and pressed back against him. "Rose-- She didn't allow me to-- "

He stopped, his voice choked.

"It's okay," Angel said.

Robin took his hand and laced their fingers together. He pulled them up to his mouth and kissed Angel's knuckles. "Please," he said. "Hurry."

Angel pressed his face to Robin's back and licked his skin, tasting the faint salt there. He rocked his hips a little, feeling the smooth glide of his cock between the hot cleft of Robin's cheeks. He let his teeth come together gently around his skin.

"You're pretty impatient," Angel whispered. His face was flushed and heated. He wanted to be inside him, fucking him until he screamed. He wanted to wait and to draw it out, or for it never to end. Blood rushed in his ears and he groaned. This was crazy and too intense. He reached under Robin's stomach and got his hand on his dick. The skin there was so smooth it felt unreal. He ran his palm along the length of it, loving the heat.

Robin braced his arms and pushed back hard against him, almost writhing. "Don't make me wait," he said. "Do it."

"Jesus, okay. Okay."

He got more slick and drenched himself in it until Robin was making tight impatient little moans. He pressed Robin to the bed and eased in, going as slow as he could. It was still too fast, and he could feel it when Robin clenched tight and winced. His fingers twisted into the sheets and he gasped. Angel braced his arms and made himself stop, closing his eyes. In the blood red there he could see stars and trees and shadows. He shook his head, banished the images and pressed soft kisses to Robin's shoulder.

They stayed almost still for long breathless minutes, until Robin moved his hips, rocking back a little, then further, taking in more. Angel could see the sharp curve of his cheek and the sweep of his eyelashes. He fixed his gaze on them and concentrated on not coming right then.

"This is good," Robin whispered.

"Yeah, it is," Angel said. He fumbled for more slick and let it dribble down between them, then let himself settle on Robin's back. He tucked his face against Robin's neck and they lay still, hardly moving, but moving enough. It was almost unbearably sweet and good. He wrapped his arms round Robin's chest and held him tight. "You gonna last all night like this?" he asked.

"Oh, no," Robin said. "No."

"Me either."

He thought actually that they might do this for hours, just stay joined together. They could, if they wanted. He was sure of it, until Robin moved under him, spreading his thighs so that Angel shifted, his cock so slicked that he sank in deep and hard.

"Fuck," he said. His hips shoved forward without him even thinking, pulling out and thrusting back in, making Robin clench tight around him and moan out loud, high and half strangled. Angel did it again, faster. It was too good. He knelt back and got his hands on Robin's shoulders and eased him close. Robin's toes curled.

"You okay?" Angel gasped.

"Mnh," and a frantic nod. Robin's face was flushed pink and it made him look so pretty. "Go on."

"Okay, yeah."

Soft, panted words between them that hardly meant anything, but they held a weight that Angel couldn't even begin to think about now. He gripped Robin's hips tight and held him steady as he thrust in and out. Robin balanced awkwardly on one elbow and stroked himself with his other hand, snatching glances over his shoulder at Angel. His lips moved, making soft incoherent sounds with each thrust. Dark strands of hair were plastered to his forehead and his temples and the back of his neck.

It was that dark and hungry look in Robin's eyes that got to him most, even more than the feel of his body. Angel thrust harder and moaned and came far too soon, his whole body shaking from the force of it. He couldn't hold back, not even for a second. It didn't matter though, because Robin's head dipped and he sounded like he was almost sobbing as he clenched tight and came.

They didn't move for a long time afterwards, except to rearrange themselves. Robin curled up on Angel's chest, and Angel stroked his hair. They both gazed at the painting.

"I can get rid of it," Robin said, into the silence.

"No," Angel said. "Don't. I don't mind it."

Cupidity - chapter twenty five

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 21:03:52 GMT

Previous chapters here.

The hills slid past, scrubby bushes and dry baked earth, golf courses and white-painted houses. Angel leaned his head back on the seat and let it all slide past.

"I could've finished you all off," he said. "Every single fucking one of you."

Robin steered them across an interchange and then off down a road that Angel recognized. It led to Alberich's mound. Robin's knuckles were white where he gripped the wheel.

"Perhaps you should've done that," he said. He was staring out at the road ahead. "Why didn't you?"

Angel looked over at Robin's sharp profile. He wanted to tell him exactly why, but he just couldn't, not now. He closed his eyes and must've dozed, because he didn't remember anything until Robin shook him gently awake.

"We're here," Robin said, peering into his eyes with a worried frown. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Feels like I've got the world's worst hangover," Angel said. He ached, every part of him, and not just his body. He missed it. He missed the rush of power and it sickened him.

There was still no smell this time, thank god. Angel found it easier the second time around. Maybe he was getting used to it, he thought. Or maybe it wasn't so bad compared to the rest of the day. Or maybe he was just in shock.

They had to find a container and pick up all the bits. Robin insisted. There were a lot of them. It seemed weirdly disrespectful to cram Alberich's head in there with the rest of...him. Angel wrapped it in the towel and carried it in his arms.

"You don't have to..." Robin started.

Angel looked over at him, and he stopped talking. It was funny, Angel thought. He looked so worried. The other funny thing was how much Angel could see, all of a sudden, like a whole other world shimmering at the edge of his vision. He wondered if he could do what Robin could do now.

He stepped back and to the side--and into the soft grass by Terrence Goodfellow's grave. Someone touched his shoulder. He squeaked a little and nearly dropped the head, and oh god he was carrying around a dead guy's head, what the fuck.

"You brought him to me," Eos said.

Angel shook himself as Eos took the towel-wrapped bundle and cradled it against her breasts.

"Yeah. Uh." He took a few steps back.

Eos looked at him, quiet and solemn. "Do not worry, child. Strange as it is, I find no urge within myself to harm you."

He swallowed. "That's good."

She sat cross-legged in the grass and unwrapped Alberich's head. She stroked his hair. "I should have known when you asked for my blood. No one's asked for that since him."

"I just didn't want to leave her like that. She couldn't even die."

"She still can't. I made sure of that. Though I now find myself curiously indifferent to her suffering. I suppose revenge matters less when one is dying."

"You're not dying."

She laughed. "I'm human."

"Angel!" It was Robin, hurrying into the clearing with the bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm okay. We were just talking."

"I see. And are you done?"

Angel looked at Eos, but she was already walking over to Robin. She took the bag from him and looked inside it.

"Yes," she said faintly. "We are done." She started laying pieces out on the grass, constructing Alberich piece by piece. "Help me or leave."

Robin helped. After a few minutes, Angel did too. He wished it were as horrible as it should be, but it just wasn't. It didn't feel real. Once he was as whole as it was possible to make him, they raised a mound over him, a miniature of the one where they'd found him. Tiny white flowers sprang up on it and grass grew over it, and Eos wept, her tears landing on his grave.

"Now he can be reborn anew," she said.

"He can?" Angel whispered to Robin.

"Maybe. In time. They are very hard to kill. She might even live to see his return."

The wood were changing, Angel noticed. Through their murk he could see flat shapes, like tower blocks. Under his feet, leaves blew away to show cracked concrete.

"What's happening to it all?" he said.

"Rose," said Robin.

"The land reflects its lady," Eos said. "Or its lord."

"Then I'm guessing Rose isn't doing so well." The grass in the graveyard was still green and thick, but all around them it was fading to brown. "Can't she fix herself now?"

"She can," Eos said. "But she can't. It's within her power, but not when she's like this. She despairs, and the land despairs with her. They are one and the same now, and one reinforces the other."

She spoke without looking up. Robin watched her, and Angel watched Robin. He couldn't read that expression at all.

"Will you, like, be okay here?" he said. "I mean, no house. And it's getting cold. And what are you gonna eat?"

She shook her head and wouldn't answer.

They left Eos kneeling by the graves, her fingers buried deep in the grass. The silver sky was broken by tall dark shapes, thin fingers pointing up to the sky like a parody of a city.

"Rose doesn't like the trees, yeah?" Angel said.

"She always did love the human world," Robin said, touching the edge of a tower of glass and concrete that was half built and already half crumbling. "Perhaps it was more of a fetish."

They walked for a while. The air was cool and the sky was uniform white, thick and heavy and seeming to muffle sounds. Robin didn’t speak and Angel couldn't find anything to say. He kind of thought there was a lot they should talk about, at some point. Maybe.

The buildings got bigger and the gaps between them became dark chasms floored with churned up dark earth. It felt like stepping into a grave.

"Aren't you scared of meeting Rose?" Robin asked him.

He sounded strange. Wary, Angel thought. Around them, through glossy windows that somehow he knew where not made of glass, he saw fleeting dark shapes and faces, some human and some not.

"No," Angel said. "I’m not scared."

The tallest building was easy to see. It was empty inside. The four towering walls enclosed nothing but an elevator. The doors opened for them, and stood open, waiting. They looked at each other, and then Angel stepped in.

She had an office. It was wood paneled, but the panels were rough and unvarnished. There was a bookcase filled with books, and a lamp and a desk and three chairs. A laptop sat open, glowing softly. Next to it lay the gun. Around the walls, dark haired women waited silently.

Rose stood near the single large window, looking out. She was as neat and as polished as he’d ever seen her, except that her feet were bare and filthy and her gaze was dull and flat.

"I thought you'd come to find me," she said, turning to them. Her voice was hard and sharp and it seemed to stab into Angel’s ears. "My brothers."

"I'm not your brother," Angel said.

Rose darted a single glance at him, like a blow. "You are now."

Angel didn't even want to think about that. “No,” he said.

“Leave us alone,” Robin said. “Do that and we’ll reciprocate.”

“I have my own land now,” she said, her voice rising. She sounded confused. “What would I want with yours?” She turned back to the window and laid her palm flat on the glass. It bowed under her touch and he saw her whole body shudder. The floor under their feet shivered too. “I can’t see,” she said. “Everything’s so dark. Yes, you can leave me alone.”

In the elevator on the way down, Robin held his hand and Angel was stupidly grateful. They hurried through the narrow streets like lost children in a fairy tale, pulling each other along. The air was getting colder, almost icy as it crept under Angel’s clothes. It was getting darker too. This wasn't just Rose's land. It had been his too, even for those few moments. They weighed on him, as heavily as the dull and cold air.

They came to the grave mound, but Eos was gone. She was close by though, somewhere. Angel could feel it.

“Do you want to go home?” Robin said. His breath came out in a white plume and he sounded almost pleading.

Angel put his hand in his pocket. Jenny’s tile was still there. It was smooth and warm under his fingers. He ran his thumb over her number.

“There’s still something we should do,” he said.

***

"The likelihood of me being able to do a damn thing about this curse is slim to none," Jenny said.

"Eos said she could fix herself if she'd just realize. She's so..."

"Lost," Robin said quietly.

"I'm a witch, not a therapist."

"You know any therapists willing to work with the queen of the fairies? No? Wow, shocker."

Jenny sighed. "Fine. Let's go."

They stepped out of the bar and into the other world. Angel thought he might be getting used to this. It was a worrying thought.

"Fuck," Jenny said softly. He didn't think he'd heard her swear before. "What happened here?"

It was worse. Asphalt and concrete covered everything. Glass windows cracked and shattered as they walked past. Strange graffiti grew and swirled on the buildings, painting scenes of the forest by moonlight, of creatures with inhuman eyes, and of tides of blood lapping at countless stained, bare feet.

"Rose happened," Robin said. He took Angel's hand again, and Angel wasn't sure which of them it was meant to comfort.

Jenny stood straighter and grasped her walking stick more firmly. "Right, then. Show me."

They took the elevator up again. Rose was still standing at her window. Her women stood or lay about the room. One was eating a pigeon delicately, with bloody fingertips. She offered Angel the heart, and he looked away quickly.

Jenny went to Rose and stood quietly next to her. She didn't speak to her or touch her. It was a long time before Rose turned to look her way with those blank eyes.

"I don't know you," Rose said.

"No, you don't."

There was another pause, so long that Angel sat down on Rose's desk to wait.

"Who are you?" Rose asked, at last.

"I'm no one. Just like you."

Rose nodded slowly. "I am no one and nothing, dead and buried. Everything is so dark. I can't stop bleeding. Oceans of my blood, but it's never enough, I'm never empty and the land is never full."

This time it was Jenny who was quiet. The women around the edges of the room stirred, with like wind through bare branches. Robin moved closer to Angel.

"You don't feed a land on blood," Jenny said, finally. "That's silly. Plants need rain, even the ones here." She reached out and pressed her thumb lightly between Rose's eyes, like she had with Robin.

Rose seized her by the wrist and throat and groaned. Her women echoed the sound, like the splintering of an old tree trunk by wind or the beginning of an avalanche. The shadows in the room thickened, and thunder rumbled outside, and Jenny didn't move. Angel could see blood on her throat where Rose's nails dug into her skin.

Rain started to spatter and hiss against the glass. It was only a few drops at first, and then it gathered and rolled down like tears. Rose's mouth was open, her face blank.

Angel looked between her and the rain. He picked up Roses's paperweight, a heavy gold frog, and heaved it at the window. Glass shards flew everywhere, and Rose screamed as a fragment cut her cheek.

Wind blew the rain in on them in great gusts and swirls, sticking Rose and Jenny's hair against their faces, plastering papers to the desk and the walls.

Rose's eyes were shining, Angel saw. He didn't know if it was tears or just a lifting of that horrible dead stare. She let go of Jenny's neck and looked at the blood on her fingers. She licked it off carefully, like an animal licking a wound.

"I hurt," she said, very softly.

"Then do something about it," Jenny told her.

"I don't know how."

"Figure it out. You're in charge now. No one can do it for you."

"I never wanted this."

"Yeah, well, you can't always get what you want. But sometimes you get what you need."

Rose frowned. "That's the Rolling Stones."

Jenny shrugged. "Sorry. You can't always be as eloquent as you'd like all on your own, either. But it's still true."

Rose blinked slowly at her and turned to face the window. For a second Angel thought she meant to jump, but she only stood there, letting the rain soak her from head to toe. She stepped on the broken glass, and where the blood from her feet seeped into the carpet, tiny red flowers bloomed.

"You should all leave," Rose said. "I need to think."

Her women left by the door or faded through the walls or sank through the floor. Angel cleared his throat and slipped off the desk, tugging Robin's hand. "Going, right."

Rose turned her head and looked at Jenny. "You may come back."

"Ah. You know, I'm sure you'll be fine now. I'm sure you would've fine anyway, and I'm really not--"

"You may come back."

Jenny sighed and rubbed at the cuts on her neck. "Right."

When the elevator let them out onto the street, Angel saw green shoots creeping up through the cracked concrete.

Cupidity - chapter twenty four

Thu, 06 Dec 2007 22:15:43 GMT

Previous chapters here.

There was a dead fox at Angel's toes. He stood close to Robin, in the circle of short grass that marked Robin's father's grave. Ruby drops clung to the grass, pooling in small sticky well. The flowers were crushed. There was blood on the headstone. Next to him, Robin shivered and Angel didn't miss the way he leaned closer to Angel's side, as if for comfort.

"Did she do this?" Angel said.

"I don't know," Robin said. "But I'm feeling more and more that I owe her a taste of mortality."

Somewhere in the distance, something shrieked. Outside the circle, the grass was dying, Angel noticed. There were brown patches where before it had been bright unreal emerald. Shattered branches lay on the ground where they'd dropped from the trees. The sky was dark and heavy with grey clouds. Fear crept through Angel's stomach, small and cold and spiky.

"I don't like this," Robin said.

"Yeah. That's what I keep telling you," muttered Angel. "She's gonna be mad, huh? I mean about the bow. And, you know, the whole thing of not bringing her any new toyboys."

"I—I suppose she is. But at least I left her a replacement weapon."

"With which to hunt and kill people." Angel thought of the small silver gun on Eos's hand and shuddered. "More efficiently. You know that was such a not-cool thing to do."

"It's only fair. Otherwise it's, well, it's stealing."

"You've got a fucking freaky idea of what's fair."

"Do I? I expect so. It can't be helped."

Angel met his gaze. Robin's eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was pink and splotchy and Angel wanted to know who or what the tears had been for. Maybe they were for everything. He noticed that Robin's hands were tight around the bow and that he looked scared. Bare branches rattled up above their heads as if they were angry. Angel shut his mouth.

"It'd be nice not to have to come back, after this," Robin said, looking round. "For a while."

Angel touched his arm. "Yeah. Whatever you like. We could go somewhere with a beach. Again. And no witches."

"Maybe the mountains. Somewhere quiet. With no trees."

"Sounds good."

The forest trembled around them. Angel clutched the plastic loops of the shopping bag until his nails dug into his palm.

"Do you see that?" Robin said.

Angel looked. There was a glow in the distance, wavering like fire between the trees. The shadows looked deeper there as well.

"I guess that's where we're going?"

"I think so."

The closer they got, the darker the woods became. The wind picked up and whipped rotting leaves at them and flung dead vines across their path. The wind grew colder until it stung Angel's cheeks. Flecks of ice spat at them.

"This isn't good," Robin said under his breath. "Not at all."

Someone ahead of them let out a shriek that was followed by a bolt of lightning that split the sky right down to the ground. Both of them shivered.

They cleared the last of the trees and stepped into a vast, open meadow. Clouds roiled above them, dark blue on black and laced with fretwork lightning that now and then shot down to touch the trees around the meadow and set them alight.

"It's not the bow," Robin whispered. "I've never seen her like this."

A fire burned in the middle of the dying grass. The flames were white, like the lightning. Shadows ringed it, standing, crouching, or draped on the ground. Some looked more human, some less. Their eyes turned to face Robin and Angel as they left the shelter of the trees.

Eos stood in front of the fire, outlined and limned in red. She held Rose against her bosom. She stroked Rose's hair, pulling hair from her scalp with every stroke. There was blood on her fingers and at the corner of her mouth.

There was blood on Rose's hands as well. Her shirt was soaked in it, and so were the ends of her hair. Her smile stretched across her face like it had been carved there.

"She knows about Alberich," Robin said.

Eos looked up at them slowly. Her eyes were entirely black. She dropped Rose and stalked toward them. Robin pushed Angel behind him.

"Mother."

"Do you know what she's done?" Eos said.

Her voice sounded like wind or lashing rain more than human speech. The sibilants drew out and hissed and whistled around them like bird cries. Angel shuddered. Some of the shadow that swarmed the air took on the shape of wings.

"Yes, Mother."

"She's killed him. She's killed him, and I cannot find his body. It's not in my realm." She reached out and wrapped her hand around Robin's throat. "If you had anything to do with this, my darling, I will pull the flesh from your bones."

Robin bent his head and kissed her wrist. "There's nothing I could have done to him, Mother. You know that. But I can bring you his body."

She blinked, and her eyes cleared a little. "Yes. You must."

"What are you doing to Rose, Mother?"

"She is not properly repentant. But she will be. If it takes centuries, she will be." She stroked Robin's throat slowly, lingering over his pulse. "He loved me, you know."

"You don't even know what that means."

"No. But it meant something. Bring him back to me, little bird. We shall wait."

She turned away and strode back to Rose. The point of her nail hovered over Rose's eye, and even if Angel was pretty close to wanting Rose dead now, he didn't think he could stand to see her tortured.

"Eos!" He hadn't meant to say anything, or to step forward, but there he was with his mouth open. Standing in front of Robin. In full view of Eos and her…people. She looked back at him at the same time as Robin pressed the bow into his hand. He saw her black gaze fix on it for a moment.

"Can't you—" His throat felt tight and dry. He swallowed. "Can't you let her go? She's crazy. She didn't mean to. I'm sure she didn't. Or. Or you could fix the curse? You could, couldn't you? If you wanted to. You can do anything here, right?"

"Why would I want to do such a thing?"

The look Eos gave him wasn't angry or scornful. She didn't laugh. It was worse than that. It was pretty obvious she just plain had no fucking idea why he was asking. He wished right then that he'd never come here, never met Robin, gone to his crappy job that day just like he should've done, carried on with his fucking useless pointless existence. It looked like a great life from his current terrified and shaking perspective.

"Wishes have power," Eos said, and she did smile then. "I can make them true."

Robin was watching them, and he looked so worried.

"Do it because she's hurting," Angel said, without much hope. Rose was shaking now, just as badly as Angel's fingers where they were clutched around Jenny's bag. He hated her. This was all wrong.

"Not enough," Eos said.

"But it's not fair. Any of it!"

"Angel," Robin said. He sounded urgent.

"I can't shoot."

But Robin pressed the arrow into his hand, and it felt—right. He lifted the bow and notched the arrow onto the string in one movement. It felt like he'd done it a thousand times. Blood pounded in his temples and he could taste her on his tongue, her blood as sweet as honey. On the ground at Rose's feet he saw the gun. Rose had a red round hole in one foot and another near her knee.

Eos smiled. "You think you can kill me with my own bow, little boy?"

"I don't want to kill anyone." He aimed for the heart, like Jenny had said, and let the arrow fly.

He saw the flash of understanding in Eos's eyes when she realized he wasn't aiming for her, but he never saw her move. She was too fast, there in a flash, literally. Lightning sizzled to earth, burning the grass in front of Rose, and she was there. The arrow pierced her heart, and Eos fell.

"Oh, shit," Angel whispered. At his feet, where he'd dropped it, the bag exploded.

Everything went dark. There was no more lightning, no starlight, no fire. Nothing but black. Angel staggered and dropped the bow.

"Will you lead us?" a voice said out of the darkness, only it was many voices. It was the rattle of bare branches and the rustle of leaves. Shapes resolved themselves around him. The shadows ringed him, their faces indistinct and wavering.

"Robin," he said. "Robin, where are you?" he said, and the shadows wavered again.

"He can't hear you," they said. "Nothing can exist without her."

"Robin!" When he tried to move they held him back, some with hands and some with things that were only a little like hands, but as damp and as cold as tree roots.

"Will you lead us?" they said, in questioning tones.

"Lead you? I—I can't."

"You've got her blood in you. You can," one of them said, the tallest and most human. It had a voice that sounded like the squelch of feet on wet ground. "We want you."

It offered him the bow with outstretched arms. "But. How can I? I'm not her. I'm not—I don't have any power."

"You do," one of the shadows said. Its words hissed like rain. "Enough to feed us, at least."

"Who are you?" Angel whispered.

"We're the dirt and the trees and stones," the thing said.

"I don't want it."

"You want our land to die, for all of us to die with it?"

"Wouldn't that be better?" Angel said. "I mean, it would, right?"

"Would it?" the thing said, wondering. "Who are you to judge?"

"But you-- I mean, you hurt people. Eos hurts people."

"Yes, but who are you to say we should die?" Its voice changed, becoming sly. "Your lover will die too, you should know. It's your choice."

Angel could feel the pull of the darkness now. He closed his eyes. He could say yes, it's what he wanted, and he could walk away and leave all this. Robin had asked for everything, right at the start. He closed his eyes and saw himself in fifty years. Maybe he'd even have kids, his own family all grown up and this'd be a fairy tale he'd tell. He might not even remember Robin properly then. He'd just be someone long dead and gone, a dusty memory.

Angel reached out. He took the bow and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll do it," he said.

He thought there might be a fanfare or something. Fireworks. Some magical thing. But there was only Robin, kneeling next to his mother in the dark woods. Everything looked sharper and brighter. The wind spoke to him, telling him it loved him. The trees whispered and so did the ground under his feet.

Eos lay sprawled on the wet leaves, one arm outstretched. The fingers of one hand were curling into the palm. Robin clutched the other one to his chest. The tears on his face gleamed like silver as he jerked his head up. Angel stepped closer, feeling power surging through him, from his toes to the earth and back again. He was strong, he thought, with distant amusement.

Robin gasped as Angel came nearer. "No," he moaned, staring. He let Eos's hand slip from his and it fell onto her chest. "What have you done?"

Angel reached out and touched Robin's cheek. Like this it was easy to feel the faint pulse of his power, nothing like as strong as Angel's. Angel looked about. Around him, just out of sight, the blackness waited. Rose was watching him. She stood barefoot in her own blood, wearing the remains of her white shirt. Her hair hung in ropes, like snakes.

"There's a place for me here," Angel said.

"Angel," Robin said, and he started to rise, hanging on to his hand. "Please. Don't. Please listen to me."

"Be quiet," Angel said, and shook him off.

Rose waited, gaze flitting from Angel to Robin and back again. She wobbled and stepped backwards, just once.

"You're being stupid, child," she said. Her voice was rough and it cracked halfway through the words. "You'll never survive. You'll be burnt up."

"I know," Angel said. He looked up. The sky was golden. The trees were lush and full. Birds sang and the grass sprang green under his toes. He could make his home here and keep Robin by his side, always. He contemplated the possibilities and it made him smile. The shadows moaned faintly at the corners of his vision.

"It'll eat you up, human child." Rose said. "Perhaps that's what you want, though?"

"Angel," Robin said. "Angel, please don't. This isn't you."

Angel looked around. Under the grass, he saw red rock pushing up under the grass. The sky was getting brighter and it was getting hotter, wide and blue like the sky at home. He stared up, feeling an invisible sun begin to burn him. His skin stung already. He took the bow from his back and watched her eyes widen. He smiled. He took the quiver too, and slung it at her feet.

"Take it," he said, nodding to the bow. "It's yours."

The hole in Rose's foot was still seeping, and dark blood lay sticky on her neck and shoulders. She stared at the bow, then knelt and took it, holding it in her arms. With her knees sunk into the mud and her face tipped up, she looked wild. She frowned at them, as if she didn't know who they were anymore. She put the bow on her back and reached for the gun. It fit in her hand too easily.

"Why?" she said.

"It's yours more than mine," Angel said, and staggered. The red rocks around him began to fade and the sky darkened. Everything hurt and he was back to being scared out of his mind.

"Yes, take it," said a soft voice at Angel's shoulder. "Sweet flower, you should have this chance to rule as you would like, for as long as you can bear it. Perhaps it's a better torture than anything I could have done to you."

Eos was smiling. Her face was flushed. She was clasping hands tight with Robin, tugging him forward. He came with her as if helpless to stop himself.

"Yes," said Rose. "For as long as I can bear it," she said, her voice dull. She frowned, her face lined with confusion.

"Mother, we should leave. It's not good for you here, now," Robin said. His voice was calm, even if it shook. Angel tried to imagine Eos anywhere but here. Walking the streets of New York, for example. It made his mind hurt just to think of it.

"Leave? No, I won't," Eos said. She looked smaller now, somehow, and frailer. She smiled. "I want to stay here, to look after poor Rose."

They should've been comforting words. Somehow, the way she said them made them not comforting at all.

"But, Mother," Robin began. She turned away and walked to Rose.
"Come back with Alberich," Eos said, over her shoulder. She laid a hand on Rose's hair and stroked it once more.

Robin took Angel's hand, holding on more tightly than he needed to. He looked over at Angel. "We should go," Robin said, and Angel nodded.

A tug of his hand and a misstep. A rush of sound and smells. They knelt in the lemon groves next to the abandoned towel. Jenny had left a note on it telling them to call her and to try not to do anything even more stupid before then.

Angel knelt, shaking, and felt Robin's arm come round his shoulders. He was too numb to even speak.

"It's all right," Robin said.

"Is it, really?" Angel said, catching wildly at his hand. It was warm and real.

Robin didn't answer, instead he shuffled closer and let Angel crush his hand.

"I have to take Alberich to her," Robin said, after a long while. "Will you be all right waiting here for me?"

Angel stared up at him. "You're not going back there on your own," he growled.

"But—"

"No."

Robin pulled him to his feet. Angel's knees shook and he felt blasted inside. Robin wrapped him in the towel, so carefully that Angel's heart wanted to break. He led Angel to the car and put him in the front passenger seat, before he went round and got in himself. The drove away in silence.