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You're a Souvenir, a Darling, Dear
Reply to Scynneh or visit her websiteAdded to the Roswell Slash Archive February 12, 2001
Title: You're a Souvenir, a Darling, Dear
Disclaimer: I know that they're the property of some high-powered suits, but they begged me to take them in for awhile and give them some happiness. Who am I to deny needy and attractive males? I look at this as a moral responsibility.
Feedback: Oh, yes, I would be of the ecstatic.
Dedications: For anyone who is having trouble writing lately. My Muses woke up suddenly and have been riding me hard ever since. <WEG>
Rating: uhm, don't let minors read it, please. It's m/m, consensual sex.
Distribution: Sure, just let me know.
Spoilers: Okay, I hope that you people can figure out who these guys are: Evil Angel and a character from Roswell. For those who don't know who Rath is, he's the 'dupe' of a good character named Michael. Think spiky hair and piercings, oh yes, tattoos....
Notes: The title comes from a Rasputina song.
The silver was cool under my mouth, with the tang of sweat and desire coating it into a delectable candy I could savor. And when my tongue gained entrance to the hot haven beyond youthful lips, I found his contrasts to be much the same as mine: searing in one respect, and too icy in another. Though, my body had no warmth, it was only my spirit that kept me continually moving, hunting.
But this creature, combination of boy and man, was too engaging to let go just yet. And he wasn't afraid, arching up against my hands as I stroked him through his worn denim, fabric so old that it had the consistency of wool under my fingers. So easy to separate fibers with one sharp yanking movement, and then a sun was searing my flesh even through leather and silk armor. Not that I cared; discomfort always made an encounter more exciting, gave it the power to tide me over until I found someone else who was this interesting. And, I thought, as he knotted fingers in my hair and pulled me down for another brutal kiss, that could be years from now.
He knew what he wanted, this one, had been as unabashed about it in that club a bare hour ago as he was in this dank alley. It amused me suddenly, that such trysts always occurred in the less savory parts of town, where the only preying eyes were those of vermin, both furry and otherwise. Not that such lowly rodents would disturb them, they knew predators when they smelled them.
Speaking of sharp teeth, the boy was beginning to lose patience with my contemplations of our surroundings, and expressed his feeling by mouthing flesh and then biting down emphatically. I tolerated his little show of dominance until one overly ambitious hand broke the chain hanging in his face. Apparently he objected to metal when it interfered with his pleasure. I agreed, except for the bit where he snapped a century-old gift, one that my Childe had given to me during our more intimate days. No one was allowed to ruin my jewelry just because they were eager to get into my pants.
Growling, I seized him by his shirt collar and slammed him into the brick wall behind him, making my displeasure quite clear. He wasn't at all deterred, though, the noises I was emitting only seemed to encourage him, and he undid buttons and slid one muscular leg between my thighs with all the expertise of a courtesan. Slut, I thought affectionately, and firmly moved his hands away from my zipper. I was the dominant here, and I was going to treat myself a little. Skimming over his chest, I scratched lightly at his shirt and without any preamble, wrenched it out of the way. The oh-so-thin line of hair above his waistband seemed to be an arrow of sorts; 'for fun, go here', and I followed the directions amiably. He wore no underwear, a consideration I rewarded by immediately taking him into my mouth. He groans and bucks almost at once, and I wondered how long it's been since anyone bothered to take care of this pierced vagabond. For someone who exuded attitude, he was remarkably willing to surrender control; which spoke of a controlling relationship. As the sounds issuing from above became increasingly frantic, I ceased contemplating his motives for being in my city.
Some people think that the person giving a blowjob is the submissive partner, but I must disagree. Sure, I got my share of Masters tossing me around like meat for a while, but my experiences with my father gave me the insight to take control of such incidents. Pretty soon, I got a reputation for being cruel; in and out of the bedroom, and there were fewer individuals who wanted to risk having me keep them on the edge of satisfaction for endless interludes. And a perfect example was waiting for me to get on with things.
The right amount of friction on the head of his arousal had my 'victim' cursing in thick New York accents and flooding my mouth with warmth and salt. I sat back, swallowing and running my tongue appreciatively over my lips. Nothing like a good vintage to make one savor the sampling. Now he was pliable before me, a sprite of voluptas incarnate, clothed in the garments of arrogance and disillusionment. I took his silent pursing of full lips to mean that any further contact was both expected and encouraged and swung him around to face the wall. Pants were quickly disposed of, and then fevered skin and mine met and melded. I found him ready to assist with a tube of lubrication, and I thanked him with a no-longer-careful nip at his exposed neck. This was a rare find, hint of bastard in this boy, with a good dollop of anger and just enough of a pain aficionado to make him a delectable repast. Slicking one finger, I found his entrance between flat, honed cheeks, and pushed inside. As I worked in another digit, he arched back against me, and I felt the rub of tousled hair and the quick scratch of earrings as he twisted to seek my mouth once more. I obliged as I removed my fingers and replaced them with my cock. Sinking home, I reached around him to find the evidence of his pleasure, smiling as he whimpered with pain and the embryonic beginnings of bliss.
One hand followed the rhythm I had established within him, and the other splayed on the wall above his head. His begging had deteriorated to half-formed words like 'mor', god, harder,' and others that were probably just eloquent noises, but I understood their gist and complied, pounding into him until his cock shuddered in my fist, and he came, covering the wall and my skin with his release. I waited until he was limp in my grasp before finishing in a few strokes, snarling and sinking my fangs into his neck as my cool seed flooded his body. He gasped and slid into my embrace without struggle as I lowered him to the ground. At last, I drew back, leaving him still breathing, and in a state of relaxation considered illegal outside a brothel.
Once I was cleaned and dressed, I gathered my partner up like a bundle of discarded laundry and took to the rooftops. There is a saying 'you never know what you've got 'till it's gone'. Well, I have learned that lesson from my past, and I don't care to repeat it with this being. I've found a 'rough diamond', and have no intention of losing him to the fates.
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