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Reply to LucyAdded to the Roswell Slash Archive September 6, 2001
Fandom: The Forsaken
Status: New, complete.
E-mail address for feedback: email@example.com
Other website: http://members.tripod.ca/~angelspace/Lucy.html
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: On a hot desert night, both Nick and Sean find others of their kind.
Warnings: Not beta'd. Just another little ficlet written in the lj to pass the time.
Someone jostled against him, and he staggered forward, Nick catching him at the very last moment, just before he stumbled face-first into the shifting sand. They didn't speak, Nick's questioning glance saying everything, and Sean just nodded his head in a universal 'I'm okay' expression before they moved on.
There were a lot of them here, more people gathered together than he'd seen at one time before outside of a stadium. Not everyone had come on bikes, but most had, and not everyone Belonged although most pretended desperately that they did. That would have been impossible, for all of them to really Be, but there were some scattered throughout the crowd; he caught the looks almost as naturally as Nick himself did, and he wondered if it was the lingering trace of the virus in his system - nothing more than a memory, now - or the fact that he was here with Nick that caused those brethren to nod at him with recognition and respect.
The rest were posers, goth-children wannabes decked out in black and purple and blood-red and draped in silver, skin permanently dyed with pentacles and demons and pierced and plucked and bled within an inch of their lives. Before this gathering was over, some of them would Be, some would no longer exist, and most would go home, still touched by longing, but comfortable enough in their normal lives, satisfied with a taste of the life that they would never truly own.
He'd been excited, when he finally figured out where they were going, what inner voice had compelled Sean to come here, this nondescript desert destination. The call was inside him, as well, but far fainter, just enough for him not to question it. He'd thought that perhaps the One would be here, the One they sought, but it was obvious at first sight that it wouldn't be that simple. They were called together because of their sameness, because they were the Stricken, not the Chosen, and that was something entirely different.
And still, they stayed.
Once or twice Another had come close, had sniffed at him, or stared into his eyes - a tall, white-haired girl with inhumanly blue eyes licked his neck, from the upper edge of his t-shirt to just under his ear - but none of them spoke, or tried to lead him away. He didn't know if it was the way Nick's hand lingered at the small of his back, sometimes sliding down in a proprietary gesture over the curve of his ass, rubbing slightly, or if it was because they instantly knew that he was no longer one of Them, that he'd escaped, and that gave them hope or at least pause.
Someone appeared just long enough to hand him a plastic cup and he sniffed at it, cautiously. They were too far from the bonfires for him to see what it was, but it smelled like JD and Coke, so he sipped it, gratefully. The music was starting to get to him, the push of bodies, the pounding of so many pulses in such a small area. The wannabes covered no more than half an acre, total, but it seemed like there were thousands of them, moving and writhing and offering themselves as sacrificial lambs, hoping to be chosen, not understanding the difference between the desire and the disease.
He passed the cup over to Nick, who took a small swallow and handed it back. The same tall, pale girl who looked in the fire- and moonlight to be made of silver handed Nick another cup, and Sean watched him drink greedily from it, a tiny dark dribble escaping from the corner of his mouth. He finished his own, alcohol-laden drink and it was instantly replaced with another. He was glad. He wanted nothing more than to get really, really drunk.
An enormous tattooed man who looked like a Hell's Angels recruitment poster waved them over, and they sat down in the circle of his bonfire. There were girls with him, in cut-out leather and chains, and a couple of other men, all lounging and drinking and groping each other. Two girls were kissing to the left of their leader, and another couple, a man and a woman, were coming as close to fully-clothed intercourse as Sean had ever witnessed. A quick glance told him that the large man was the only one of his group who was Stricken, although the others had tasted; there was another girl who looked at Sean, though, and he knew that she was the same as he, and had been released when Kip died in his blaze of glory. He thought he should talk to her, even though it wasn't necessary. He wondered if she felt as ephemeral being here as he did. He wondered if she fought against the want, the same as he.
He wondered if she had the answers he'd been seeking, without realizing it.
Nick sat down near their host, on the soft sand, and drew Sean down to sit in the 'v' of his spread legs. One hand circled his waist and rested just over his navel, while the other slid further down, in between Sean's legs, rubbing gently at his incipient hardness. Sex in this place wasn't a private thing, it was something to be shared, that was obvious from the numbers of coupling - and grouping - people around them. Sean knew if someone took his hand or touched him he wouldn't refuse, he wouldn't be able to, but he was grateful for Nick's unconscious yet unwavering possessiveness of his body.
He finished his drink and looked around for another. A bottle was passed in his direction, and he took it, the fire of the whiskey burning his throat. He breathed hard, eyes watering, and Nick nuzzled softly at his throat until he was under control, again. He poured some of the whisky into his cup and passed on the bottle.
Nick and the biker were still talking, occasional words penetrating the fog of Sean's mind, but he didn't really pay attention to what they said. If anything important came of the conversation, Nick would tell him later, when they were alone. He was more focused on the pleasant burn of the alcohol, and the rhythmic stroking of Nick's hand on his erection - separated only by a layer of worn denim. He shifted, moving back until he felt the burn of Nick's cock press against his ass, giving a little moue of pleasure that was intended for Nick's ears alone.
Nick popped the first two buttons of his jeans and slid his hand inside. Sean grinned at the surprise he could feel in those fingers when Nick realized he wasn't wearing any underwear, then arched back when Nick's hand gripped his cock. There wasn't enough room for him to stroke, however, so Sean put down his drink and popped the rest of the buttons on his jeans, slithering quickly out of them.
There were at least a dozen pairs of eyes on them, but he didn't care - not enough to stop what he was doing, anyway. He did turn around, so he was facing Nick, and kissed him, hooking his legs around Nick's waist.
"Are you okay with this?" Nick asked.
Sean kissed him in answer. He was heady from the alcohol and the environment and enormously turned-on, shivering in the night air with the heat of the fire on his back, the heat of Nick pressed up against his chest. He looped his arms around Nick's neck and closed his eyes, waiting.
Someone had spread a blanket out on the sand, because when Nick unbuttoned his shirt and laid him down, he fell into softness and not shifting grit. Nick's tongue dragged over his skin, moving over his nipples and dipping into his navel, nuzzling for just a moment at the pulsing hardness of his cock. He opened his eyes when he couldn't feel Nick touching him anywhere, locking eyes just when the first finger penetrated him.
It was so familiar, this feeling of possession, yet it was all new, too, with so many people around, watching them. He gasped and arched when the second finger joined the first, twisting deep inside him, and heard an answering low moan from somewhere behind him, across the fire.
Nick had to stop, even though he was breathing hard and Sean could tell he was close to losing all control. It didn't happen often, because Nick preferred to always stay in control, and their sex life usually stayed closer to 'making love' than fucking. Tonight, they would be fucking in the firelight, fucking in front of these strangers who were closer than any family either had ever known.
Sean waved away a hand that offered a condom. They'd stopped using protection only a week ago, when he'd finally been able to convince Nick that he would _not_ live without him, no matter what happened. He'd been a little disappointed when transmission didn't occur just from the sex, but Nick's overwhelming relief when he realized that Sean was still safe made him hide those feelings carefully away. He told himself that it didn't matter, and he wouldn't ask for more. Nick wouldn't deliberately re-infect him, even if he did ask. The only way that would happen would be if Nick somehow lost every shred of his self-control, and Sean could never consciously wish for that to happen.
Nick unzipped his jeans and crawled up Sean's body, kicking them carelessly off as he moved. He planted one hand on either side of Sean's arms, and they kissed, Sean's hands moving restlessly over Nick's forearms. There were other wet noises to be heard around them - other people kissing and touching each other, but Sean knew that most were caught, rapt, by the vision they were making.
He sucked on Nick's tongue, drawing it into his mouth over and over again. Finally, when he couldn't take any more teasing foreplay, he pushed Nick away and threw his head back, drawing in air warmed by the heat of the fire, and the dozens of people who surrounded them.
He saw nothing but eyes, hungry and feral, everywhere he looked. A momentary panic struck him, but Nick's hand on his thigh brought him back to the moment - back to Nick, staring at him with eyes that seemed almost black in the flickering light.
Then it was just the two of them, Nick's cock piercing his body like it was the first time all over again, because even then Nick's body had been familiar to him, something he had been born knowing. He arched up and Nick caught him, and then he was in Nick's arms, they were kissing, he was moving, slowly, never letting Nick escape him.
The noises around them intensified to a dull roar of multiple bodies tumbling into orgasm. Nick pushed him down onto his back and thrust in harder, but Sean could still feel the tension in his body and how he was holding himself back, clamping down tight on the deepest part of himself that not even this place could unleash. Sean hadn't touched himself and neither had Nick, so when his orgasm triggered it was almost a surprise or an afterthought, but it moved through the crowd like wildfire, setting off a keening shout of release.
Sean didn't care. Even while his body was still shaking and shuddering with his release, he reached up one hand, locked it on Nick's neck and pulled him down, breathing into his mouth, keeping him just at bay, a fraction of an inch away from a kiss. He felt the heat of Nick's breath panting into his mouth, felt the frustration in his body, the tremble of muscle as Nick kept himself on the very edge of coming, and then it all broke down as Nick said one word -
- right into Sean's mouth, their lips fused, and Nick came, pouring pure fire and sweat and come and blood into Sean's body.
Someone howled. Sean thought it might have been him.
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