Notes and Disclaimers in Part 0 ---------------------------------- Leverage and Momentum
2/3 ----------------------------------- The friar dropped the weapon and spun. "What are you doing, Van Helsing? What--what is this?" Van Helsing stepped back, ready to make excuses for everything, to sweep it all away as a misunderstanding. But something in Carl's eyes kept him from it. Carl didn't look horrified or disgusted. Or even angry. He saw none of those things on the friar's face. Just confusion, maybe a little fear, and something else he couldn't quite place. "What do you. . . think it is, Carl?" "I don't--" Carl's voice lost some of its tightness, its volume dropped almost to a whisper. "What are you. . . are you. . . are you trying to. . . ?" That's when Van Helsing was sure he saw it under the fear and confusion--he was sure he saw hope in Carl's expression. Hope. Wasn't it? It had to be, because he couldn't turn back now. Van Helsing's voice matched Carl's. "Do you. . . want me to?" He wanted to hear Carl say 'yes,' to hear pleading and want in his voice, but he couldn't wait for it. The look that passed over Carl's face was affirmation enough. Van Helsing grabbed his arms and pressed him backward. Reason stalled him. No, they couldn't do this here. He glanced at the door. "My room. Yours. Don't care." Carl nodded, pushed Van Helsing back and headed for the stairs, almost at a gallop. Van Helsing followed, but suddenly knew he'd never make it to any room, he wanted to taste, to touch, now. He grabbed Carl's arm and herded him behind the staircase, out of sight of the door, but close enough to hear someone on the steps. Before he could back Carl against the wall, Carl spun on him and shoved him against the stone. Carl's fingers twisted in the dark hair as he kissed Gabriel, wasting no time in sucking his tongue into his mouth and pressing their bodies together. Van Helsing was surprised by this aggressiveness but matched it with his own actions, cupping Carl's buttocks through his robes and pulling him in even tighter, moaning into his mouth as he pushed his hips forward. When Carl finally released Van Helsing's mouth it was only to forge a trail down his jaw, his neck. He sucked at the stubbled Adam's apple and shifted to the side to allow one hand between their bodies and up and under Van Helsing's shirt, his other hand still fisted in Van Helsing's hair. He explored the chest, his fingers combing through the thick hair, brushing over one taut nipple, then the other, before sliding down the muscled belly. Van Helsing was grateful for the wall behind him as Carl's hand slid down and cupped him through the front of his trousers. He tilted his head up further to give Carl better access as he pressed forward into the hand that now rubbed firmly in rhythm with the sucking mouth and tongue against his throat. Carl's fingers pulled almost painfully at his hair. Carl may read a lot, he thought, but given what Carl's hands and mouth were doing to him right now, Van Helsing decided that on this particular subject Carl must have done more than just peruse old books. The thought of Carl as a skilled lover excited Van Helsing even as he found himself jealous at the idea that he'd touched someone else this same way. Carl's questing fingers quickly distracted him from such thoughts. "Oh. . . god," he whispered, as he covered Carl's hand with his own and tugged it away. At that, Carl lifted his head but before he could speak, Van Helsing kissed him, turning the tables, then used the hand he held to pull him forward and around until Carl's back pressed tight against him, their joined hands on the friar's chest. Van Helsing's other hand found one side of Carl's neck as his mouth lowered to other and gave the flesh there the same treatment Carl had bestowed on his throat moments ago. As he felt Carl's head relax back onto his shoulder, Van Helsing pulled away to take in the sight he'd been craving--throat arched, eyes closed, mouth slightly open--Carl completely lost. And knowing he was the cause of it almost brought him over the edge. He whispered, "I want you to do what you did this morning." He felt Carl stiffen. "What? Van He--I don't think. . . I could. . . . " Van Helsing moved Carl's hand, sliding it lower, down Carl's chest, down his stomach. "Yes, you can." And then a hoarse whisper in his ear. "Do it for me this time." He kissed Carl's neck and heard his words, ". . . it was for you. . . last time," before Carl gasped, as the hands moving down his body found their mark. Van Helsing kept his hand on top, encouraging, letting his fingers slide between Carl's to feel the hardness underneath. ------------------------------------------------------------- When Van Helsing's thumb ever so slightly caressed his finger, Carl almost let himself hope the gesture meant what he wanted it to. Then when Van Helsing moved behind him and pressed the weapon into his hand, allowing the small caress again, Carl did let himself hope. And then. . . Carl was dead, he was sure of it. Dead and in a heaven of his own design. He must have collapsed, perhaps from some sort of unexpected toxic fumes put off by his last experiment, and the moment Van Helsing stomped down the steps into his lab he was granted his eternal reward. It was the only reasonable explanation. Any other theory meant that Van Helsing wanted *him*. Maybe he hadn't imagined the awkwardness in their conversation after he'd dropped the blade that morning? And Van Helsing *had* been watching him silently for a short while before Carl had indulged himself, and. . . . Van Helsing wanted him. Dead. Dead in his own private heaven. He'd dreamt of touching this man for so long now that when Van Helsing pushed him behind the stairs, Carl couldn't stand the wait anymore. Somewhere in his mind a cautious voice told him that if he did this they could never go back. Their relationship would change forever. What if, for Van Helsing, this was just physical, a need for this one night, never to be again? But he was too far gone, and God himself flanked by leagues of angels and Cardinal Jinette couldn't have talked Carl out of this moment. So Carl did what he'd imagined so many times, heedless that this wasn't one of his fantasies. He put everything he had into one kiss, one touch, so if he never got the chance again, at least he would have this. Carl gave himself so completely over to his desire, that when Van Helsing spun him and urged him to touch himself as he had that morning, he could barely protest. Bad enough he'd done it in front of Van Helsing unawares, but now, consciously? And yet somehow Carl couldn't imagine doing anything but what that familiar voice in his ear told him to. He thrust forward against his hand, Van Helsing's hand, and then back against the hard body pressed so tightly against him. Carl could easily imagine that it was Van Helsing's hand alone giving him pleasure, much like in his fantasy. *For me, Carl, oh yes, for me*. Then it *was* Van Helsing's hand, as Carl's was quickly pushed away. When Van Helsing's tongue snaked around the rim of his ear and the man's strained voice whispered, "Carl, now, let go," he couldn't do anything but obey. ------------------------------------------------ Van Helsing's hand moved from Carl's neck to the side of his face. He could feel how close Carl was, as the man's body trembled against his. He'd seen this from afar, but now he was part of it, participating, and he wanted it all. He replaced Carl's hand with his own so he could feel Carl throb under his touch. He wanted to taste him as he lost control--wanted so much more than that. When he whispered *let go*, he used the fingers he had splayed against Carl's cheek to turn his head. As Carl tensed, Van Helsing took his mouth. Carl's shout was muffled in the kiss. Van Helsing's groping hand tightened as Carl came, bucked forward once, twice, three times before his movements started to slow. Still Van Helsing kissed him, every sound Carl made lost in the possessive mouth covering his. He rubbed Carl, gently and slowly, wringing from him every last whimper and shudder he could. Van Helsing broke the kiss so they could both gasp for air. Carl's eyes opened, their blue seeming a shade Van Helsing had never seen before. He felt Carl reaching back, trying to work his hand between their bodies. Van Helsing shook his head. He caught the searching hand. "No." "But you're still. . ." Carl turned, a little unsteadily, an almost hurt look on his face. "Why not?" "Because I want you, Carl. And we can't do that here." He put his hands on Carl's shoulders. "I'll come to your room. If that's all right." Carl stared for a moment as if in disbelief. "Of course it's all right." "You go ahead." Van Helsing really doubted anyone would be up, but if someone were awake he'd be sure to notice Van Helsing's aroused state. At the confused look on Carl's face, Van Helsing pulled him forward and kissed him. "I'll follow in a few moments. We can't risk being seen together while I'm like this." He motioned down with his eyes. "Oh, oh of course, you're right." Carl stepped back. When Van Helsing heard the friar climb the stairs and then all was quiet, he slumped against the wall, listening to his own breathing and his heart pounding in his chest. He was tempted to relieve himself again then and there--he was sure he would have no trouble becoming aroused again once he reached Carl's room. But he didn't want to be brought off with a hand. He wanted to be inside Carl, surrounded by him, hanging onto him when it happened. Van Helsing willed himself to relax, and tried to think of anything but Carl, waiting for him. Waiting to have him. --------------------------------------------------- Carl swore the trip from the lab to his room had never seemed longer. He stripped off his robe, the light shirt and trousers he wore underneath, first frowning at the damp patch on the crotch of his pants, and then smiling. The second such pair in one day. He took a cloth and dipped it into his wash bowl, already shivering in anticipation of the cold water. He wiped the light sheen of sweat from his face, neck and chest before cleaning the quickly drying stickiness from his stomach and groin. After he dried himself, he stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. It just felt too strange to stand there completely naked and wait for Van Helsing, so he put on a long nightshirt and sat on the edge of his bed. *Because I want you, Carl*. Those words played over and over in his head all the way from the lab. Dead. Reward. Heaven. Most definitely. Carl waited, and waited, and eventually started to worry. He thought Van Helsing would have arrived by now. Long before now. What if he'd changed his mind, or regretted what had happened? What if he thought it had been a mistake? A light knock sounded, and Carl almost swooned with relief. He started to speak, but opted to open the door himself and usher Van Helsing in. Carl noticed he was still clearly aroused, and hoped he hadn't encountered anyone on the way there. "Why are you knocking? You could have just come in." Van Helsing was already out of his shirt and making quick work of his boots. "I don't know. I always knock. Seemed the thing to do." He realized that when they were barefoot, the height difference between them was much less, and that Carl simply looked taller without the bundle of hood behind his head, giving him an almost hunchbacked appearance. Carl reached out to touch the muscled chest, his hands gliding over the skin and thick dark hair almost reverently. "What took you so long? I started to think. . . you might have changed your mind." He helped Van Helsing undo his pants. Van Helsing stepped out of them, then pulled Carl's nightshirt over his head and tossed it in one swift motion. "I wasn't changing my mind. I was waiting for this," he pulled Carl to him and ground his hips forward, "to go away, in case there were any insomniac monks wandering around." "Didn't seem to work." "No." He couldn't resist running his hands over Carl's chest. Carl wasn't as wide as Van Helsing, as big or as muscled, but he felt good, felt right, under Van Helsing's hands. He was lean and toned, his chest covered in ginger hair that trailed down his stomach to the thick, slightly darker patch that drew Van Helsing's attention now. He let his hand follow the path of hair down Carl's stomach to rub his palm against Carl's already stiffening flesh. As Carl moaned at the touch, Van Helsing pushed him toward the bed. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Carl breathed heavily and made tiny noises that sounded strange to his own ears. He had promptly been arranged just as Van Helsing wanted him--on his knees with his hands against the wall at the head of the bed. Van Helsing knelt behind him, much like their position in the lab. Only now he was covering every inch of Carl's back with his hands and his mouth. There was little for Carl to do but relax and enjoy it. Carl had tried to roll Van Helsing onto his back at first so he could look at him and explore, take him into his mouth--take some time--unlike in the lab. But Van Helsing seemed in such a hurry, and had simply urged Carl into the position he wanted. A slight fear was creeping back into Carl that this was just unrelieved tension from his mission, a simple physical need that once satisfied would be forgotten. And Van Helsing seemed to prefer Carl facing away from him. This bothered Carl, became a nibble at the back of his mind that Van Helsing might want him this way so he could imagine he was with someone, anyone, else. Van Helsing's arms wrapped around him, and he could feel the man drop himself lower and under him, and-- "Wait, wait!" Carl pulled away as Van Helsing tried to enter him. "You can't just. . . you have to. . . in that satchel." Carl pointed at a bag he sometimes carried back and forth to the lab. "Small container marked 'glycerin 7.'" Van Helsing retrieved the bottle, but before he opened it he asked, "I thought you were trying to get the glycerin to explode? Is this safe?" "Yes, it's safe. That formula is only good as a lubricant." Carl smiled with pride. "It was my first successful batch a few years ago." Van Helsing coated himself, his fingers. "Successful? Thought you said it was only good as a lubricant." "It is. But that's what I was aiming for," Carl said, and then Van Helsing's fingers were inside him. He jerked at the sudden intrusion. Van Helsing stopped and kissed Carl's shoulder blade. "Sorry," he whispered. The fingers moved within Carl, more slowly this time, but only long enough to ensure that he was slick. Then they were gone and he felt Van Helsing pushing himself inside. -------------------------------------- Van Helsing felt like he was doing everything wrong. He just wanted Carl, wanted to be inside him, and hadn't even given thought to how they'd go about it. He did want to make this good for both of them, and even though he still worried about hurting the man he was barely able to stop once he'd felt himself slip into Carl's body. Fighting the urge to thrust, he waited to let Carl get used to the intrusion. After a few moments, Carl pressed back and down, taking a little more of him in. Van Helsing reached around Carl and stroked him as he pressed forward slowly, groaning when he found himself completely surrounded. Again, he waited to move, letting Carl get used to the feeling. When he felt Carl relax around him, saw the tension in his shoulders start to give way, he experimentally withdrew the smallest bit and pressed forward again. Carl moaned, but clearly not in pain, so he repeated this motion, each time pulling himself out a little farther. Soon his strokes were almost the complete length of him, and Carl was pressing back into each one. Van Helsing knew he wasn't going to last long. His hand quickened on Carl's erection as his other hand pressed against Carl's chest, pulling his hands away from the wall and urging Carl to lean back against him. He could feel Carl tensing, trying to keep himself balanced. "I've got you," he whispered. *You're mine now.* Van Helsing held him tightly, balancing both of them, as he thrust up into Carl almost frantically, almost lifting Carl off his knees each time, all rhythm and gentleness lost to desire. He felt Carl's hands reaching behind, trying to find something to hang onto, before they settled on his hip and buttock. Van Helsing put his mouth against Carl's neck, sucked hard and whimpered against the skin, and then Carl's head flew back onto his shoulder. Van Helsing lifted his head to watch. Carl moaned Van Helsing's given name. His forehead creased, the veins in his neck stood out, his breaths were quick and shallow. Then he made a choked sound, clearly trying not to shout, as he throbbed in Van Helsing's hand and clenched around him. At the sight of Carl's release, Van Helsing lost control. He thrust repeatedly as he came, quickly muffling his sounds of pleasure against Carl's neck. Van Helsing stroked him until Carl's trembling subsided, then rubbed small circles around his belly button. When his own spasms slowed, he groaned and pulled himself free of Carl's body, but still held him tightly. He could feel the friar's heart jackrabbit under his hand. Van Helsing lifted his face again to look at Carl, whose head was still tossed back against his shoulder. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and Van Helsing couldn't resist reaching over and kissing him. Carl's eyes opened and he smiled. Van Helsing lowered them both to the bed. He urged Carl to relax while he looked for something to wipe his hand and the sheet. "Use my pants, a little more isn't going to matter," Carl said. When Van Helsing was finished, he looked at Carl with a slight frown, then looked at his clothes, and back at Carl. "Should I go?" "Go?" Carl sat up. This was what he was afraid of. Van Helsing had just been relieving tension, and now he was done. Done with Carl. "No, not unless you want to." "What do you want me to do, Carl?" Carl swallowed thickly. "I--" *Oh, all that's damned, just say it.* "I'd like you to stay." "Good. Then I'll stay." Van Helsing smiled and crawled in next to Carl. He pulled him close so that they were facing each other, Carl noted happily, before he said, "What did you mean earlier when you said it was for me last time?" Carl sighed and decided that now was a little late to be embarrassed. And a little late to turn back. "When you saw me yesterday . . in the lab. . . when I. . . well, I was thinking of you." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I've wanted you. . . " *Go ahead, Carl. Everything has already changed. Say it sayitsayit*, ". . . loved you. . . for a very long time, Gabriel." Van Helsing didn't speak, didn't seem to breathe for several moments. When he did speak, it was barely above a whisper. "How did I not know?" "I didn't want you to." When the silence stretched on, Carl took a deep breath. "I didn't know how you would react. I was pretty sure it was one-sided and. . . I didn't want to hurt our friendship. It wasn't worth losing you." "You wouldn't have lost me, Carl. Nothing could do that." He rubbed Carl's back reassuringly, even as he wondered just how he *would* have reacted. Before. Before he'd wanted Carl. Nothing could have changed their friendship, he knew this, though he didn't doubt it would have been. . . strange, knowing that his dearest friend wanted them to be more. But maybe, had he known, it would have helped him see Carl differently long ago. Helped him see not just his friend, the genius inventor, the friar, but the complete man that was Carl. As he saw him now. And maybe Van Helsing would have wanted him then, too. Carl fidgeted for a moment, trying to get comfortable. "What do you think you would have done, had I told you?" "I honestly don't know, Carl. " He wished he could lie and tell Carl he'd have happily fallen into his arms. "But I know you wouldn't have lost me." "No?" "No." He kissed Carl to illustrate his point. "You've wanted me for a long time." It wasn't a question as much as a musing. "And now, you have me." Carl smiled. "And now, I want you." "Apparently so." "So what I would have done before. . . doesn't really matter." "No. It doesn't." "Good. Now, Carl, tell me about the carbon in that blue goo that made it do unexpected things, so we can get some sleep." Carl laughed and shoved him away but Van Helsing pulled him back, laughing himself. They exchanged a few more mumbled words and kisses before they settled against each other and were still. ----------------------------------------------------- End 2/3 Cousin Shelley David Wenham Daily--http://www.livejournal.com/community/daisy_daily/ Purple Prose--http://www.geocities.com/csnshelley Crap--http://www.livejournal.com/users/cousinshelley/ Carl and the Beholder shook their heads while the chicken feigned indifference. -- Splice Outtakes, nikoru sanzo __________________________________ Yahoo! Mail Stay connected, organized, and protected. Take the tour: http://tour.mail.yahoo.com/mailtour.html this list is archived at: http://www.squidge.org/~peja/ Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ThereBeSlashHere/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
