Tissues... fucking tissues. Where\'s the poetry in that?
The inane thought flitted repeatedly through Kerr\'s brain as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring directly at the wall in front of him. His gaze was turned inward though, his mind preoccupied with a thousand different thoughts and suppositions but always returning to the one; tissues.
It had been such a stupid and negligent action, to find a small plastic-wrapped pack of tissues tossed onto the cover of his bed - an item that very obviously belonged to Tag, his bedmate. Kerr hadn\'t thought anything of it as he\'d returned from his night at Risk, glancing at the stark white pack sitting on the dark quilt cover as he\'d walked into the room, already undressing. He\'d fed from a smoker, which he normally wouldn\'t but the boy had been blonde, charming and insistent - in some ways like Ben had once been - and so he\'d complied. The blood was fine but the vampire wanted a shower immediately, so he\'d made a beeline for the bathroom.
When he\'d returned, naked, he only briefly pondered the fact that Tag wasn\'t home and didn\'t appear to be planning to return while he was still awake. He did that a lot, though and Kerr found waking up beside the warm, clean-smelling shifter almost as nice as if they\'d lain down to sleep at the same time and got a chance to talk. The mortal always had questions and observations that Kerr couldn\'t predict (which delighted him) and their fall into slumber was always easy and often humourous in its companionship, whenever it magically aligned (not that it happened much anymore).
He didn\'t understand why Tag would betray him.
It had been many weeks since his visit to Declan, though it felt very recent. He\'d done exactly as he\'d planned upon exiting that house, and scoured the city looking for signs of Ben. There\'d been none. No accidents involving anyone matching his description in all the nights surrounding the one the Oligarch had implied was Ben\'s release date, no unidentified bodies submitted to the morgue, no trace of the nineteen year old being arrested. He\'d checked the hospital - the mental one, too - and had angered the clerk at the General to the point of him readying to call security to eject him. So much for avoiding Mandy at work and not counting on favours to get it done; he\'d Dominated the clerk and looked through everything himself, but there was only more nothing.
It had taken a while... more than a while, really... for Kerr to admit that it was hopeless. He didn\'t know where Ben had gone and could only assume that Sawyl had had something to do with it. He\'d interrogated the child calculatedly, knowing he would have to be very careful if he wanted truthful answers and approaching the situation appropriately.
Fat little hands whispered across his throat and beneath his hair, around the back of his neck, the little body connected to it circling Kerr\'s chair languidly, watching the movement of his feet along the carpet of his guardian\'s study as he went.
"What\'s up?" Kerr asked, keeping his mind deliberately clear and his voice even, though he knew this was likely to be the initiation he\'d been banking on. He and Sawyl had been together twice and Kerr anticipated that it wouldn\'t be long until his sire attempted to seduce him again - especially since the child had been soundly rejected the night before he\'d visited Declan.
"I\'m bored," he announced slyly, coming to rest against the right arm of the chair, hand still stroking Kerr\'s throat, groin \'inadvertently\' pressed against the large hand rounded over the rubber of his chair arm.
Kerr recognised the hungry look in the wide blue eyes and though he cringed from it internally, his expression remained impassive. "So go out and find something to do."
"I already have something I want to do."
The adult examined the smile gracing the lovely bowed lips for a few moments, then met his gaze. It was just after midnight, Sawyl\'s favourite time to play; they both knew what he was saying but Kerr wouldn\'t make it easy for the child - especially since the last two times he\'d accepted the offer had been particularly low points in the cycle of his self-flagellation over the punishment and loss of his mortals. If he went willingly now, Wyl would be suspicious.
"Then go and do it."
"It involves you."
"I thought it might; I\'m busy."
"Still trying to locate that idiot?" Sawyl demanded waspishly, looking at the confusing jumble of information on the monitor in front of his progeny, unable (and unwilling) to decipher any of it.
"He\'s not an idiot," Kerr responded curtly, "and no; these are stock reports. I was just looking to see how much money we\'ve made."
"Boooooooooring."
"That\'s a very mature attitude to hold towards the primary source of your income."
"Do we need more income? I thought we had plenty," the child droned, leaning more prominently against the hand on the chair, slouching against Kerr\'s desk and rolling a disinterested gaze to the monitor now over his shoulder and back again to meet Kerr\'s brown eyes.
"We... do. But you never know when I might need to buy your way out of trouble."
A tinkling, appreciative laugh floated between them, causing Kerr to smile instinctively. It was so obvious when Sawyl was truly happy that he had to wonder why the child even attempted the sad imitation of it when he was merely being manipulative; couldn\'t he tell the difference? Wasn\'t it blatant to him how most things never leaked into his eyes unless he meant it?
"I\'m not the one making the most trouble these days."
"Mmm."
"The Oligarchy don\'t even know my name."
"As far as you know."
"Yes. That far."
"It\'s very hard for me to see the screen with you posing dramatically in front of it, you know. You make a much better door than a window."
"Ohh... you can see through me."
"Don\'t touch that..."
"You know exactly what I want."
"I need to finish reading these reports."
"Will they disappear if you take a short break?"
"You\'re never a short break."
"I\'m short."
"And not particularly funny. I said don\'t touch that."
"I like touching you."
"I know and I\'m flattered, but I think we shouldn\'t-"
"I love you."
"And I love you, but that doesn\'t mean-"
"I love the way you get hard when I touch you, too."
"It doesn\'t mean anything."
"Really? Then why are you swallowing like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you\'re having trouble concentrating on your stupid work."
"Because... "
"... yes?"
"Because I am, I suppose."
"Yep. You don\'t even want to work, do you?"
"I do, I just-"
"If you did, you wouldn\'t be this hard."
"That\'s only because of the way you\'re touching me, it doesn\'t mean anything."
"Oh? So... if I... undo your zip..."
"Don\'t."
"and reach in like this... "
"I said-"
"Don\'t tell me you don\'t like this," Sawyl murmured and Kerr fell quiet, watching as his stiff member was fished out of the top of his underwear and bobbed above his gaping jeans. It was a relief because the child\'s hands were more expert than he would ever admit and it had been confining within his clothes; having those same little digits playing skilfully up and down his length was an added reward. "There," the child hummed with satisfaction, glancing from Kerr\'s lap and up to his brown eyes proudly.
"We shouldn\'t, it hurts you."
"Only because you\'re so bloody big."
"No-"
"I like it."
"You shouldn\'t, you were abused."
"Fucking hell, it was four hundred years ago! Can\'t you move on if I have?"
Kerr pressed his lips together, not wishing to anger his sire but needing to appear to fight it as much as he normally would (more, really, for Sawyl had approached him on a night when he wasn\'t at all upset). He was finding it very difficult to meet the blue eyes whenever they looked up at him, feeling the flush of drinking a blood bag an hour earlier colour his cheeks and a knot of desire curl behind his straining stomach muscles. He watched Sawyl silently, hating himself for staring at that small mouth, knowing what was coming.
"That\'s better," the little voice crooned, gripping Kerr\'s silky shaft with both hands and sliding them up and down slowly. "You like it."
"It\'s... difficult not to."
"I like it, too," he murmured, rubbing his crotch against the back of the adult\'s fingers.
"I can feel that," Kerr allowed, turning his hand over and cupping the much-smaller erection through Wyl\'s pants. He\'d been sired at eleven, at the first sign puberty would bring hair to his face and alter his melodious voice, but Angus had hung on that long because he\'d wanted as much growth as possible in the small penis. Erect, it had the girth of the tips of Kerr\'s first three fingers steepled together, and was nearly the length of his hand, mid palm to middle fingernail - but the brunette had large hands like he had large everything else, and so Sawyl\'s arousal wasn\'t anything to be sneezed at. His soft moan of pleasure at being invited to grind against a living being was a light breeze that curled down Kerr\'s guilty conscience and brought the full force of desire with it.
It was so hard to distinguish right from wrong when the case was Sawyl. He was correct when he said he was long ago broken and adjusted; it was Kerr who wasn\'t and couldn\'t. His love was a yoke he wished he didn\'t bear, for it would have made it far easier to resist the beautiful boy if his heart didn\'t swell every time he heard a contented noise drop from the red lips, if he didn\'t wish to make his beloved happy so damn much of the time. Love was a weapon, wielded as expertly as mind powers in Sawyl\'s temperamental hands, and Kerr wished desperately that he wasn\'t its victim.
That faded as soon as a tight mouth closed around the head of his cock and began lowering gradually. Everything about the boy was compact, his throat was no different and he had no qualms about getting Kerr as far down it as he needed to go. The only concession was that he had to do it carefully, for his jaw didn\'t spread very wide and his fangs were sharp. Kerr didn\'t care how slowly it all happened; his eyes closed, his head dropped back onto the high leather rest of his chair and his hand continued to work against the thrusts of his sire.
He didn\'t know how long it went on but he was instantly alert when it stopped and surprised when he looked down to find Sawyl undressing by his chair.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting naked."
"Because... "
"You\'re going to fuck me."
"... here?"
"Yes."
"In the chair?"
"Would you prefer the desk?"
"But-"
"Or the bed?"
"I... guess... here is fine but we\'ve got no lub-"
"Yes. We do," Wyl stated matter-of-factly, straightening up holding something he\'d extracted from his discarded pants pocket. He plonked it unceremoniously on Kerr\'s desk, then tugged at the adult\'s pants, wanting them gone and happy once they were around his hairy knees. In a very determined manner, he then applied lubricant and scrambled onto Kerr\'s lap, taking the time to fit his little legs into the gap beneath the chair arms around his guardian\'s hips, and then undo Kerr\'s shirt so that he could kiss and lick the rock-like muscles of the sculpted torso, revealed when it was parted.
Kerr\'s thoughts were stagnant, fixated on the fact that it wasn\'t right that a lover could crawl onto his lap and feel like he wasn\'t there, like he weighed very close to nothing. It was completely wrong to look over a smooth, pale chest with tiny brown nipples, down to a rounded white belly and a hard finger of a penis and anticipate having this insubstantial body - that barely reached his waist when they were standing - bring him erotic pleasure. It was wrong and it didn\'t make any sense to him how he allowed it, why he didn\'t thrash with resistance and hurl the child away from him. There was nothing satisfying or enticing about having a baby imitate the actions of a horny adult - especially when it was a result of sickening abuse.
Thinking stopped when Sawyl lowered himself onto Kerr\'s dick, taking in absolutely everything he could and telling the adult not to hold him up when there was very definite resistance before he reached Kerr\'s base, but the objection was ignored.
"You have enough inside you."
"I want it all."
"You can\'t take it all, love."
"Then give me what I can," the boy sighed, and gazed beseechingly up at his progeny, like an innocent asking for a candy and nothing more.
After a few seconds\' hesitation, Kerr got a grip on the small buttocks and did the moving for Sawyl, kissing him when fevered lips stretched upward, hating the way being buried in his ass felt so tight and good, pleased when the chubby hands working frienziedly on the smaller erection achieved their goal and his abdomen was covered with sticky semen. It was the precise moment he\'d been waiting for.
Though he was close as well, Kerr resisted succumbing to his own orgasm long enough to search his sire\'s mind. Coated in ecstasy as it was, it was an easy target to probe and Kerr was swift but... heartbroken when all his plans and concessions yielded nothing. Sawyl had no surface memories of Ben, no idea of his current whereabouts and only jaded, self-centred and jealous impressions left from long ago, when Kerr had first brought the mortal home.
It was all for nothing and when he surrendered his control, his cry was of anguish far more than it was a declaration of passion, and he\'d had to fight off tears.
Kerr sat up with a start, blinking repeatedly at the wall, realising he\'d begun to doze. He still sat on the edge of Tag\'s side of his bed but he\'d fallen into a slouch that had very nearly become horizontal in his exhaustion. The sun was up now, but the shifter still wasn\'t home. He needed something to keep him alert for when that happened, so that he could speak instantly to him.
Looking down at what he held in his hand did that.
Tissues... fucking tissues. There\'s no poetry in that, no justice.
He\'d been contented and full after his night out, humming a little to himself as he turned his half of the covers down, then spied the tissues on the quilt again. He smiled indulgently and walked around to Tag\'s side of the bed, scooping the little packet up and leaning down to pull open the top drawer in the nightstand on his side to put them away. It wasn\'t opened nearly as frequently as Kerr\'s was and the angle of him leaning down from a standing position - rather than sitting and opening it more levelly - caused it to yank open harshly.
A small silver object had clanked immediately to the front of the drawer, bouncing off the vertical wooden face and then flipping back onto the bottom where it glinted quietly, sitting squarely in the middle of the drawer base and almost happily declaring its presence. Kerr had watched it, but been more intent on dropping the tissues inside and thinking about the fact that Tag really didn\'t have any important assets for himself, if all he had in his bedside drawer was a pack of tissues and a key.
A key.
Kerr froze, staring. Not just a key; his key. His front door key. He recognised the unique pattern cut into it immediately and suddenly... he knew. He\'d picked it out slowly, closed the drawer and sat on the side of the bed to examine it, turning the key he\'d given Ben over and over in his fingers as he processed everything. He thought despairingly of everything he\'d been through to try to find out where the mortal was and tried to justify exactly why the key was here, where Tag\'s few possessions lived. Tried to rationalise it.
How long had it been here? Tag had to know it was there - why had he said nothing? Was it therefore Tag who\'d met Ben upon his release from Declan, and sent him away? Why would Tag do that? How the fuck could he have not looked in this drawer in all this time, when he daily slept but a metre from it?
Of course, he kept coming back to the tissues, because it was all too overwhelming to compute on his own. There was no rationalising this, after all. He had no answers, only questions that terrified him, emotions that made him shake if he let them take hold, and a lust for hurting Tag that needed dampening before the mortal returned. That was what he worked on, while he waited, staring at the key and fighting the urge to sleep with the daylight. The dullness made it easier not to hate, not to feel at all, really, but...
Tissues... fucking tissues. Where\'s the poetry in that being the way I found out where he went?
