Tempestuous
~ A Shounan Ai / Yaoi Fantasy ~

- One -

He thrashed in his sheets, dreaming…

Smooth skin moved under his palms, and hair swept across his bare skin. Silver hair… Long silver blonde hair spilled through his fingers. Arms closed around him and a hot mouth pressed against his chest. A skilled tongue circled and lapped across his nipple. “Do you want…?”

Fire sparked and spilled downward, making his heart pound, his blood race and his cock fill. “Of course I want, idiot.”

A pale exquisite face with high cheekbones looked at him from half-closed red-gold, copper eyes under straight dark brows. “It will cost you.”

Cost? A shiver broke across his skin. “What do you want, my soul?”

Framed in black lashes, the red-gold gaze focused on him with feral heat. “And your heart. I want your heart and soul.” A lush mouth made for sin curved upward into a breathtaking smile. “Will you give them to me?” Long nails bit deliciously into his ass.

“Sure.” He moaned shamelessly, clutching at the warm body that held him close. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

Hands caught his face. “Kiss me.” Lips covered his. A tongue plunged in to taste, to explore with velvet strokes.

He moaned straight into the hot, wet mouth…

Strong hands clutched at his shoulders, urging him onto his back, and his knees were pushed up. A palm swept down his belly to close on the length of his painfully hard cock.

His spine arched, pressing his cock into the palm that held him, and he moaned into the mouth locked onto his. He pulled from the kiss. “Wait…”

“No.” The hand stroked him, down and then up, slowly and then faster… “I’ve waited long enough.”

Heat flashed through his body. His balls tightened with urgency, and his upraised knees jerked in reflex. He locked his arms around the pale smooth back and broke from the kiss, gasping. “I’m going to… I’m going to cum.”

“Yes!” Fingers knotted in the hair at the back of his neck, tugging his head back, exposing his throat. Copper eyes stared hard into his. “Yes, you will.” The silk of all that silver hair spilled across his chest. Teeth raked across his throat, then a wicked tongue stroked the pulse beating under his skin. “You will come--to me.” The teeth bit down, hard.

He gasped, shocked. Heated lightning raged through him. His body bucked hard. He screamed, and came.

Rusty snapped awake, his body shaking, his shouts echoing in his ears. He gasped for breath and blinked in the darkness of his bedroom. He shoved the sheets away from his sweaty skin, and discovered that they were little more than rags. He’d ripped them apart. On top of that, thick gobs of hot wetness cooled on his belly and chest. He’d cum all over himself. He rose from his bed. “Damn it!”

He stumbled in the dark to the bathroom and turned on the light. He winced in the sudden brightness and looked into the mirror over the sink. His shoulder-length, sweat-darkened hair gleamed red under the bright light.  White, sticky gobbets were spattered all up his belly and onto his chest. He groaned. The stuff was everywhere. A washcloth was not going to do a damned bit of good. “Shit…”

He stepped into the small glassed-in shower stall, turned on the water. In minutes the bathroom was full of steam. He jammed his head under the near scalding spray.

A wet dream… What the hell had brought that on? He grabbed for the soap and started scrubbing. The person in the dream wasn’t someone he knew. He damned sure would have remembered meeting a woman that hot. And what was up with the biting?

Rusty shut off the water and stepped from the shower. Yawning, he reached for the towel, glancing back into the mirror. He froze, staring at his reflection. His green eyes widened. A thin line of scarlet was running down his throat.

What…? He shoved his dark, wet hair away from the side of his throat and leaned closer to the mirror, peering at his scars. Two finger-long lines and two tiny marks beneath them, clearly from upper and lower fangs, marred the side of his throat, right below his left ear. Something had bitten him in the woods during his senior year of high school. He still couldn’t remember anything of what had happened.

Yesterday the scars had been pale and faded, but overnight they had turned bright red. Blood trickled down his neck. “What the hell is this?” He pressed his fingers against the wounds.

In the dream, he’d been bitten--right there.

“No…” He stared at the blood smeared on his fingertips, and a cold sweat erupted all over his body. “Dreams don’t do shit like this!” He slammed his fist down on the edge of the tiny sink.

The sink shook. A soft crack and then a tiny chink caught his ear. He looked down. In the sink, a small circle of porcelain the size of a large coin slid to the bottom, leaving a bare spot of cast iron where his fist had landed.

“Ah, shit.” His short temper had struck again. “Damn it…” He knew better than to cut loose like that. He looked at his hand, opening and closing it. Nothing, not even a bruise, though he’d used enough force to chip the porcelain in the sink.

He wiped his hands down his face. “Why does all the weird shit happen to me?” On top of the mysterious scars, he was too damned strong. With his wiry build, he shouldn’t be anywhere near as physically strong as he was--stronger than guys with a lot more muscle mass.

It was a frikkin pain in the ass. He had to be careful all the damned time. He tended to accidentally break things and could cause bruises just by holding on to someone too tightly. Sex had to be handled with extreme care.

His lip curled. What sex? He hadn’t had any real sex in nearly a year. He sighed. It was just easier to go home and take care of himself than chance hurting someone.

He snorted. Probably why he’d had that wet dream.

But why was his throat bleeding? He picked up a cloth and dabbed at the blood seeping from his scars. What the hell had happened to him in the woods all those years ago?

An image of sunlight through autumn leaves, then long silver-blond hair and red-gold eyes danced on the edges of his mind.

“No…” That couldn’t be right. He was mixing his dream with what little memory he had. He’d been bitten by some-thing, not some-one. Something with fangs. Some wild animal, not a person.

Rusty dried his hands without looking into the mirror again, and stalked out of the bathroom. “I need…a cigarette.”

Naked, he padded into the hall. Turning right, he stepped into the spare room, his personal workshop, and flipped on the light. His cigarettes were on the worktable before the window. He walked over, picked up his cigarettes and lit one. He took a drag from his cigarette, staring at the folding doors of the closet. He scraped his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

Frowning, he walked over to the closet and shoved open the folding doors exposing the massive battered dresser he kept in there. He jerked open the middle drawer, rummaged and pulled out the long, smooth oak box. He opened it. Nestled on a scrap of red velvet, the shining black fox stared at him with metallic gold eyes, grinning with white-fanged amusement.

He still had no clue where he’d found the skill to carve the tall ears, the slanted eyes and the grinning muzzle, or what had possessed him to carve a fox mask in the first place. All he remembered was that the mask was connected to the nightmares he’d suffered right after the accident.

He frowned, staring at the mask. He couldn’t recall anything from any of the horrific dreams. He remembered having them, but he couldn’t remember a damned thing from them, other than that they had stopped once the mask was completed.

Not that it was a bad thing. He sucked on his cigarette, then blew smoke. Just one more unsolved mystery in his messed-up life.

~ T ~

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Tempestuous

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