Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the resemblances are completely coincidental. All the characters, situations, and everything else in the story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between males. If you are not supposed to read it, do not read it! Feel free to e-mail me.
This is a sequel to Specter' Gamble </nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/specters-gamble/>. You don't have to read the first one in order to get this one, but it would make it easier to understand the characters in this story.
- XIX -
When they got home, the dog let out a high-pitched yelp and attacked Sam almost viciously, his tail wagging so furiously that it was threatening to create a serious whirlwind. Desmond didn't even bother saying anything when that shovel-looking tongue started violating kid's face and mouth. He took off his boots and shoved the dog aside slightly, trying to get him out of his way. Suddenly, the dog left Sam alone and gave Desmond a very confused look.
"What?" Desmond shoved his boots into the corner. "What?" he repeated when the dog just stared at him with the same confused expression.
Desmond sighed and took a step forward, about to push the dog out of his way with his knee. Before he did that, however, the dog back-pedaled rather quickly, the fur on the back of his neck rising slightly.
"What?" Desmond said again with more irritation. The dog let out a small uncertain growl and Desmond rolled his eyes.
"Specter, what are you doing?" Sam said with a puzzled frown.
"Get the damn dog away from me," Desmond said with annoyance when the animal stood in front of him, his ears flat on his head, fur rising even more. "Sam, get him away or I swear to God, I will kill him! I don't know what his problem is, and I don't care!"
"Yeah," Sam muttered and grabbed the dog's collar. "Come on, Specter... Come on, let's go outside...!"
The minute the dog heard the word `outside,' he blinked, stepped backwards without looking away from Desmond, and finally turned around and raced towards the glass doors. Sam opened the door and the dog ran outside without as much as glancing back.
"Did you kick him earlier or something?" Sam gave Desmond an accusatory look.
"No," Desmond answered with irritation. "But if he keeps it up, I will!"
"Weird..." Sam muttered.
He sighed and looked at the clock. It was 9:30 in the evening.
"Hey, Gabriel, do you mind feeding Specter tonight?" he asked. "I am tired from all the cleaning, I think I'll just go to bed early..."
"Don't even think about it," Rayhe said darkly. "Get your ass in the kitchen! You are not going to bed until everything is back to normal!"
"Gabriel..."
"Kitchen, now!"
"Ugh, you know..."
"Now!"
"Fine..."
Desmond yawned.
"Have fun, you two," he nodded. "I am going to bed. I am going to get more than five hours of sleep for a change..." He glanced at Gabriel. "Something tells me you will be way too tired when you get to bed, so I am not even gonna bother saying anything," he grinned.
"You know," Rayhe grumbled. "If you would help, it would be over much quicker..."
"I know that," Desmond nodded. "Good night!"
He ignored Gabriel's muttering and went to the bedroom. He stripped rather quickly and slid under the covers, trying to ignore muffled arguments and banging noises that came from the kitchen. Finally, after fifteen or so minutes, he sighed, grabbed a pillow, and smacked it on top of his head. That muted all the noises, and ten minutes later, he was asleep.
...He dreamt weird dreams. In his dream, he was standing in front of the blank canvas, holding a paintbrush and nothing else. There was no paint in sight; just the canvas, the brush, and that's all. He stared at the canvas for a while, and then he took a step towards it, raised the paintbrush, and touched the white surface. The clean and dry brush vibrated slightly in his fingers, and the minute he touched the canvas, the tip of the brush glowed with soft golden shimmer, and then there was a thin golden pulsating line in the middle of the canvas. He looked at it critically, and then he realized that the line wasn't curved enough. He fixed that, and now everything felt right. Then suddenly, there was vicious barking from behind his back, and he turned around just to be knocked onto the ground by a huge white dog.
"Son of a bitch!" he screamed when the dog's teeth clanked an inch away from his throat. It was Sam's mutt, except he was bloody huge. The dog made another attempt at his throat, and Desmond furiously shoved him aside, trying to get up. He almost succeeded when he felt the dog's teeth sinking into his right calf. He screamed when the pain erupted in his body, trying to roll over, trying to kick the damn dog with his left foot, trying to ignore the pain, trying to...
"Wake up! Des, wake up...!"
His eyes flew wide open and he sat up, gasping for air.
"Holy hell," Rayhe said softly. "What in the world did you dream about?"
"I..." Desmond started saying, and then frowned. "I don't remember..."
"Des," Gabriel sighed. "If you don't want to talk about it..."
"No," Desmond interrupted him. "I seriously don't remember..." He looked at Rayhe who was lying next to him. "There was something about..." He frowned thoughtfully. "Something about paint..."
"Paint?" Gabriel repeated incredulously. "Dreaming of paint made you scream like that? What was it trying to do? Color you to death?"
"I was screaming?" Desmond winced.
"Yeah," Gabriel nodded. "Loud enough to wake me up, and we both know that it's a difficult task..."
"Woke you up...?" Desmond blinked. "Weren't you in the kitchen half an hour ago?"
"It's five in the morning, Des," Gabriel said slowly, and Desmond blinked again.
"Huh," was all he said, and then Rayhe grabbed his arm and pulled him down.
"We have two hours until we have to get up," he murmured. "And we can't go back to sleep so..."
"*You *can't go back to sleep," Desmond said pointedly. "I don't have that problem."
"We are not going back to sleep," Gabriel nodded, and then Desmond stopped arguing.
The rest of the week flew by without anything out of the ordinary happening to either one of them. Desmond was busy with figuring out the tests he planned to give to his students for the rest of the semester, Gabriel kept doing his usual numbers-juggling thing at the bank, and Sam stayed home without as much as going to the bookstore. The only reason he even went outside was to play with Specter, who acted completely normal towards Desmond after that Monday night.
Desmond didn't have any bad dreams until next Tuesday. That time he dreamt of the same canvas, and the same paintbrush. He looked at the canvas and saw that one slightly curved thin golden line, and suddenly, he knew what he had to draw next. He took a quick step towards the canvas and touched the white surface with the glowing tip of the clean brush. It vibrated in his fingers just like before, and then he drew another line, crossing it slightly with the first one. The next line was shorter, but it made Desmond to exhale with satisfaction. Everything felt right again.
He whirled around when he heard low menacing growling, ready for the dog this time, and just when he was about to duck and grab the damn dog's thick neck in an unforgiving lock, the shrill beeping of the alarm woke him up. He sat up, his heart racing, and mechanically turned off the alarm. He could not remember a single thing of what happened in his dream. Nothing.
On Wednesday morning, Sam woke up from a steady ringing sequence that kept on going off with envious dedication. Sam peeled his eyes open, glanced at the clock, and groaned. It was 7:15 in the morning.
"Desmond," he muttered while reaching for his phone, which kept ringing. "If this is another one of your stupid... Yeah," he grumbled into the phone, ready to burst into a colorful explosion of profanities – a thing he wouldn't usually do – when the phone said quietly:
"Hey..."
...and then sleep dissolved into nothing immediately.
"Blair," he muttered, goofy smile stretching his mouth. "You are back..."
"Yeah," the voice on the other end of the line sounded beyond tired. "I got back at three in the morning... Slept for a bit... Didn't want to call you that early."
"I thought you wouldn't be back until tonight or tomorrow morning," Sam got out of bed, covering it automatically without even noticing it.
"September is a short month," Blair laughed. "I completely forgot about it!"
"You sound exhausted... You should go back to sleep," Sam straightened up and propped one arm on his side.
"Sleep is overrated," Blair said seriously. "Come over."
"When?"
"Umm... Now...?"
Sam laughed softly.
"I'll be there at..." He glanced at the clock again. "Eight," he nodded.
"Okay," Blair said simply. "Just walk inside, okay? The door is unlocked."
"Okay," Sam said, the same smile making his voice tremble.
He snapped the phone shut and went to the bathroom. He emerged from the shower in record time of seven minutes, dried his hair, frantically jerking the towel, got dressed, ignoring Specter's puzzled look, which said, `What the hell are you doing up so early?' and went into the kitchen.
"Kid," Desmond said when he saw him. "You are sick or something?"
"No," Sam grabbed a mug and half-filled it with coffee. "Why?"
"It's seven-thirty in the morning... The last time you got up that early, I had to drag you out of bed... What's up?"
"I gotta go," Sam said quickly, and Desmond's eyes widened a bit.
"Go where?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
"Umm..." Sam gulped his coffee down. "It's... Desmond, I gotta go," he nodded and put the mug into the sink. "I'll call you if I'll be late tonight, okay?"
"Kid..." Desmond said, but Sam just waved his hand, kissed the dog's nose, and went through the front door without as much as glancing back.
...He got to Blair's house at 7:55, parked on the side of the road, and went inside the house without even bothering to knock.
"Blair, it's me," he called when he walked in. "Blair...?" He called again when there was no answer.
He frowned at the silence that greeted him and walked into the living room. Blair was sitting on the couch, his head on the back of it and it seemed like he was watching TV.
"Blair...?" Sam said again and walked closer.
The Fire Guardian was asleep with his mouth slightly open, snoring very lightly. Sam grinned at that, reached for the remote control, and sat down next to him. He gently ran his fingers through Blair's hair, and the other man muttered something in his sleep and dropped his head onto Sam's shoulder. Sam inhaled his familiar scent, rested his cheek on top of Blair's head, and started flipping through the TV channels, hoping to find something entertaining.
...At one in the afternoon, Blair muttered something, jerked slightly, and sat up, shaking his head.
"Goddammit..." he muttered.
"Hey," Sam said quietly, and Blair turned his head.
"Hey..." he said and pulled the younger man towards himself without saying anything else. He buried his face in Sam's hair, and then they just sat there for a while saying nothing.
"What time is it?" Blair said finally.
"After one," Sam muttered into his chest.
"One?" Blair repeated incredulously and pulled away just a little. "Holy hell, Sam, why didn't you wake me up?"
"Because you went sleep-free for nine days," Sam said patiently, and Blair snorted.
"I took catnaps," he said with a half-smile. "You got here at eight, didn't you?"
"Uh huh," Sam nodded with serene smile.
"God, Sam... You should've kicked me awake..."
"I like to watch you sleep, how's that?" Sam offered.
"God..." Blair said again and leaned forward. "God, I missed you..." He planted a long kiss on Sam's mouth. "The first day was the worst... That and I ran into some idiot at the coffee shop while I was trying to get my drink..." He shook his head. "Never mind..."
"You didn't burn that particular idiot, did you?" Sam asked with a small smile.
"No," Blair sighed. "I took a vow... Do not burn random idiots," he nodded firmly.
"Your self-discipline is impressive," Sam said solemnly, and Blair laughed at that.
"Right..." he muttered, and then his face got attached to Sam's again, his mouth nowhere near cautious, his hands shaking.
Sam sunk his fingers in Blair's light-brown, almost red hair, feeling so hungry for him right now that he became slightly dizzy. Blair's hands were all over him, and Sam just kept leaning into his touch, aching for more. He didn't even realize that he started moaning into Blair's mouth sometimes later, when Blair's fingers started caressing his neck and chest. When the older man started unbuttoning his shirt, something finally clicked in his head, and he pulled away slightly, overwhelmed by everything that was shooting through him right now. He wanted Blair to go on; he wanted Blair to become a part of him; he wanted to become a part of Blair... But at the same time, he couldn't help but tense up immediately when he felt the other man's fingers on his bare chest.
"Blair..." he muttered, having no idea what he was about to say.
The older man pulled away just a little.
"Sam," he said very softly. "I just want to make you feel good... Let me make you feel good... Give me a chance..." He stroked Sam's face with his fingertips. "Please," he whispered.
Sam looked into his light-hazel eyes, unable to squeeze a single sound out of his throat. Finally, he nodded stiffly, his entire body screaming for something it never screamed so loudly for before, and the Fire Guardian planted another long kiss on his mouth. Sam dropped his head onto one of the couch cushions when Blair's mouth started caressing his neck, and his fingers started swiftly undoing the buttons on Sam's shirt.
He squeezed his eyes shut when Blair's mouth latched onto one of his nipples, the other man's tongue and teeth doing something that was driving Sam's body and mind completely mad. He exhaled rather loudly when Blair started trailing down his chest with his tongue, placing light open-mouthed kisses all over his skin as he went. When Blair got all the way down to his hips, Sam mumbled something in some strange, non-existing language while the Fire Guardian's fingers started to unbutton his pants, and pulling them off of him. Then Blair wrapped his mouth around him, and Sam let out a guttural moan, his hips thrusting upwards all by themselves, without any warning. He has done this before to the others; he has done it way too many times than he would like to remember. Nobody did it to him, however, not a single time. He had no idea it felt this good.
His throat produced yet another alien sound when Blair's mouth started doing something indescribable to him; something he had no idea even existed. Suddenly, he felt something slick and rather thin trying to enter his body, and he jerked violently.
"No...!" he almost screamed, and Blair pulled away just a little, his eyes panicky.
Sam drew short gasps of air into his lungs, trying to calm himself down.
"I..." he muttered, feeling worse than ever. "Blair, I'm sorry, I just..."
"Shhh," Blair said quickly, and traveled back up to Sam's face. "You have nothing to be sorry about... I am the one who should be sorry..." He kissed the younger man slowly without closing his eyes. "I won't do it again, I swear... I am sorry..."
"Blair..." Sam muttered, and the Fire Guardian kissed him again.
"Don't..." he whispered. "Don't even think about saying `I am sorry' again... Okay?"
"Blair..." Sam moaned when the other man's mouth started sliding down his chest once more.
He dropped himself back onto the cushions, and when he felt Blair's mouth wrap around him again, he moaned louder than he ever did in his entire life. His hips were gaining the will of their own. It seemed, they didn't even try and respond to the frantic `Calm down!' calls from Sam's brain. He knew from personal experience that it wasn't very pleasant when someone tried to shove themselves down your throat, but he couldn't do anything about it. He grabbed onto the couch as hard as he could, trying to get those damn hips of his under control, but his efforts were ridiculously futile.
After a while, Blair's tongue started doing something that made Sam shudder head to toe. Then the other man hummed, making his throat to do vibrations, which made Sam's eyes to fly wide open.
"Oh..." was all he said when he felt those familiar tremors building up in the pit of his stomach.
Then, a minute or so later, he bit his lip, trying yet again, to get himself under at least, some sort of control. When that failed, he locked his teeth harder on his lower lip, not even noticing the pain it caused.
"B-Blair..." he stuttered. "Oh, God, Blair..." His hips were thrusting upwards almost violently by this point. "Blair, get off..." he moaned, trying to pull himself out of the other man's mouth. "B-Blair, I am..."
It seemed as if Blair didn't hear a single word that came out of Sam's mouth, because instead of pulling off, he latched himself even more onto Sam's body. Sam moaned and mumbled something else, desperately trying to get Blair's face off him, when the impossibly huge wave covered him head to toe. He screamed out, shaking uncontrollably all over, calling Blair's name, his entire body is nothing but one pulsating, throbbing bolt of pleasure.
"Huh-huh-huh-huh..." was the only thing that came out of his mouth while his back arched and his fingers dug deeper into the couch. Blair still wouldn't pull away, draining him until it almost hurt. Sam let out a small hiss, and that was when Blair finally let him out of his mouth.
"Oh, God..." Sam muttered without opening his eyes when he was coherent enough to speak. "Oh, God, Blair, I am sorry... I..."
"What are you sorry for?" Blair's voice sounded as if he was trying not to laugh.
Sam slowly opened his eyes. Yeah, Blair was grinning from ear to ear.
"I..." Sam muttered again, and his ears immediately started to flame.
"You told me to get off," Blair shrugged lightly and kissed Sam's eyebrow. "Warned me just in time," he nodded, tracing Sam's jawline with his finger. "I just chose not to," he grinned again.
"Oh, God..." Sam said again and closed his eyes, enjoying those light kisses on his face.
After a while, when all the echoes became mute, he opened his eyes, kissed Blair's chin, and reached out for the other man's jeans' button. Blair caught his hand before it reached its destination.
"Don't," he shook his head slowly when he caught Sam's questioning look. "You don't have to... Really," he nodded and let go of Sam's wrist, entwining their fingers together. "This wasn't about me," he murmured and kissed the corner of Sam's mouth. "This was about you..."
"But you..."
"Believe me," Blair interrupted him with another grin. "I enjoyed it more than you think..."
He lay on the couch, pressing against Sam, wrapping his arms tight around him. He unlocked the circle of his arms for several seconds to reach out and grab the light blanket that was resting on the back of the couch. He threw the blanket over them and wrapped his arms around Sam once again. Sam buried his face in the older man's chest, bathing in his scent, and closed his eyes.
"It always hurt," he said after a minute suddenly, and Blair frowned at that. "Not what you did with your mouth," Sam hemmed. "That was amazing. Nobody ever did that to me before... The other thing," he wouldn't look up, and neither would he open his eyes. Blair's arms tightened their circle ever so slightly. "It always hurt... Well, the first time was the worst, of course," Sam shrugged. "After that it wasn't as bad... But it never got to the point when it wouldn't hurt... No matter how many times they would do it, it always hurt..."
Blair closed his eyes for a few seconds and gritted his teeth.
"I will never hurt you," he whispered finally and kissed Sam's temple. "And I will never let anyone else to hurt you..."
Sam let out a small sigh, pressed harder against Blair, sliding his arm around the other man's waist, and muttered into his chest:
"I know..."
Blair closed his eyes, and soon enough, both of them were asleep.