Manchild

Title: Son of Angel. Part Four.
Author: Rina
Rating: Mature readers only.
Warning: Slash. Adult situations.
Pairing: Connor/Sebastian
Disclaimer: The characters contained within do not belong to me (except for the yummylicious Seb) and I make no profit whatsoever from this story. I do it for the love of Connor fans all over the world! And because I miss him *sniff*
Summary: Seb takes Connor back to his house. Much nakedness ensues.
Author’s Note: I'd like to thank the following cool people for commenting on my last chapter: LynZ and Amelia. You guys are so nice!

Also, please accept my sincere apologies for how long it’s been since I’ve updated. I don’t mean to make you wait such a lengthy amount of time but I hope this chapter goes some way towards making up for it. It’s a really long chapter too so it’s almost like two parts in one and ought to give you hours of reading pleasure! Hope you like it. :)

***
What happened last time:

“Now we got that out of the way, can we go back to my place? You know, somewhere where there AREN’T any demons?” Sebastian gazes at Connor pleadingly. “I know you’re used to them but, honestly, I’ve had enough for one night. If I see one more I think I’ll have a goddamn nervous breakdown.”

Wanting to keep his only friend in the world happy, Connor answers agreeably, “Okay. We can leave.” He reaches out and picks up the rest of the chocolates, eyeing them off eagerly. “But I’m finishing these first.”


***

Part Four.


After Connor happily demolishes the last of the free Turkish Delights, he and Sebastian slide off the satin sheets and adjust their clothing, occasionally waving away a curious butterfly or two from perching on their backs or getting caught in their hair. The sated couple admire the unparalleled luxury of their room one more time, smelling the opulent flowers and touching the shimmering curtains, gazing up at the crystal chandelier and the star-like fairy lights, and then they depart, leaving all the goldfish uneaten and swimming contentedly in the pond amongst the lily-pads. They shut the door and walk down the quiet hallway, back to reception where their roly-poly host is busily tapping away on the keyboard of his flat-screen computer, spectacles sitting precariously on his pug nose. As they approach, he glances up, not showing any surprise that Connor and his older partner are already finished.

Knowing how disturbed the demon makes Sebastian feel, Connor takes the key back up to the desk and thanks the clerk for his hospitality. The clerk gives a pleased response, smiling broadly when Connor tells him how delicious the chocolates were. While Connor and the demon chat and laugh like old buddies, Sebastian stands back awkwardly, hands in his jacket pockets, not meeting the clerk’s eyes or offering his own appreciation for the use of the honeymoon suite even though he knows he really should. His mom raised him to be polite and respectful at all times and it sits uncomfortably with the twenty-six year old to deliberately ignore someone, even if it is a demon. It’s just that he’s never been in this kind of situation before - in the presence of creatures that are not human or vampires - and is not sure how to react. One part of him wants to slip out the door and hurry safely home; the other makes him feel shitty for being so ill-mannered and discourteous. But he can’t force himself to do anything about it so he stares at the floor and waits for Connor to finish chatting. The teenager finally does, bidding a friendly goodbye to his new pal and then he and Sebastian head to the staircase leading down to the front entrance. One slim hand on the metal rail, Connor starts descending the grey carpeted steps, the lighting in the sloping ceiling shining on him and making his auburn hair glow with amber-hued accents. Sebastian follows but, feeling his sense of decency needling at him like a cactus spine in his foot, he suddenly stops and turns around.

“Connor, wait here.”

Halting in his tracks, the younger boy looks up and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done before.” Sebastian begins climbing back up the stairs.

Eyes narrowing, Connor says distrustfully, “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

“Of course not.” Glancing over his shoulder, the dark-haired man gives Connor a reassuring smile. “I’m just gonna thank him. And say sorry for being a prick. Okay?”

Searching Sebastian’s expression, Connor eventually seems satisfied that the other man is telling the truth and he relaxes, leaning back against the steel banister to wait, the red paint on the wall behind him nearly matching the colour of his lips.

“Okay. That’s a good idea. He’s really nice,” Connor adds, making Sebastian feel even shittier and more determined to make up for his rudeness.

Reaching the top of the staircase, Sebastian takes a breath and walks straight up to the Shar-pei demon, looking him right in the eyes and extending his hand in a gesture of greeting.

“Hello. I’m Sebastian. What’s your name?”

“Why, it’s Emel,” the clerk replies, accepting Sebastian’s hand over the desk and shaking it in a gracious manner. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian.”

“You too.” The green-eyed male warmly squeezes the clerk’s soft, pudgy hand before letting go, a contrite expression on his handsome face. “Listen, Emel. I want to apologise for how I’ve been acting. I’m such an asshole.”

“It’s fine,” Emel says charitably. “Forget it.”

“No, it was unacceptable for me to treat you that way,” Sebastian persists. “And I’m truly sorry. I’ve just never...”

“Seen somebody like me before?” Emel concludes with a tolerant smile. “I could tell. But it’s okay, really.”

“Great. Thank you.” Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief, running his fingers through the black curls of his hair. “I would have felt bad all week if I hadn’t said something.”

“Well, Sebastian, I’m glad you did.” Emel leans closer, speaking to the tall human in a soft, conspiratorial voice. “You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian answers quietly, not needing to ask who the clerk is referring to. “Pretty obvious, huh?”

“You’re a good match,” Emel states, nodding in approval, his Cocker Spaniel ears flopping around the sides of chubby cheeks. “I get all kinds of couples visiting this establishment of mine and I can tell straight away who’s compatible and who isn’t. But you are perfect for your little friend.”

“Hey!” Connor’s irked voice pipes up from halfway down the stairwell. “Not that little!”

At the clerk’s startled expression, Sebastian grins and explains, “Super-hearing. Along with super-everything else. He doesn’t miss much.”

“I’ll go wait outside until you’re done talking about me,” Connor calls out in annoyance, stomping down the rest of the steps and wrenching the front door open. He sounds pissed but he’s secretly pleased that Emel thinks he and Seb are a good match. Because Connor thinks so too.

With the teenage boy out of earshot, Emel continues his perceptive dissecting of Sebastian and Connor’s relationship.

“He’s a fiery one. Has a short leash and a mind of his own. Stubborn, too.” The clerk looks shrewdly at Sebastian with those tiny brown orbs. “You will have to exercise a lot of patience with him.”

“I already figured that out,” Sebastian answers wryly. “I can deal.”

“It will be worth the effort,” Emel assures him. “That boy is growing into a fine young man. He has already changed so much from before, when you didn’t know him, when he was new to this world and full of hate and violence. He has even changed since you saw him last, a year ago, when he naively thought you were a woman.”

Sebastian furrows his brow. “How do you know all this stuff? Did he tell you about us?”

“He didn’t have to. I could see it in his eyes.” The clerk gazes evenly at Sebastian through his round glasses. “And in yours, Mr Christensen.”

The hairs on his arms standing up, Sebastian realises he never told Emel his last name. Yet he knows. He knows an awful lot for someone Sebastian has never met before in his life. The twenty-six year old feels like he’s getting his palm read or his tarot cards analysed. Without being asked first. It appears that the race of demons Emel belongs to aren’t just vegetarians, they’re psychic as well. The idea of somebody knowing every little thing about him is creepy as hell but Sebastian tamps down the urge to run away like a girl and bravely sticks around, wanting to hear what else Emel can tell him about his future with Connor. If there is one.

“Oh, there very well could be,” Emel reinforces, reading Sebastian’s thoughts. “But you’ll have to work hard to keep him. He has been hurt many times and is scared of it happening again.”

“I would never hurt him,” Sebastian swears fervently, leaning forward onto the desk. “Never.”

“I know that. But he doesn’t. He has suffered greatly in the past and this has damaged his trust. Just when you think you have won him over, he will try to push you away.” Emel grasps Sebastian’s forearm in warning. “Don’t let him. He needs you. You can help him heal. You can help him love.”

“Love?” Sebastian whispers hopefully.

Winking, Emel returns, “Ah, you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

Needing to know right now, Sebastian presses, “Is he going to be with me? For good, I mean. Or is he going to leave the next morning and never come back, like last time?”

Mysteriously, Emel replies, “When I look at people I see what was then, what is now and what could be. You could have an exciting future with Connor as your lifelong romantic partner but it all depends on the choices and the actions that you both make once you leave here. You could be together or you could not. It’s up to you. And him. I am just revealing the possibilities.”

Attempting to process this profound and mystifying prediction, Sebastian stares down at his hands which are clutched on the edge on the desk. This affair with him and Connor...it could go either way. Connor could return his affection and fall just as deeply for him, which would make Sebastian the happiest damn man alive, or the kid could slink silently into the night and disappear forever which will result in Sebastian lapsing into a desolate depression from which there will be no return. Seeing Connor tonight has made him realise just how strong his feelings are towards the eighteen year old half-breed. It’s insane because this is only their second meeting but Sebastian knows his own heart and what it wants more than anything is standing outside on the street, waiting for him. Nobody he’s ever met before or since that fateful night twelve months ago has elicited such a longing in his core, such a hungering, incurable need to have and to hold and never let go. Nobody else has ever haunted his thoughts like Connor has, both during the day and when he’s asleep. The dreams he’s had...God, they’ve tortured him. Most mornings he’d wake up with Connor’s name on his lips, still smelling the scent of his hair, wanting so badly to have that boy in his arms, and in his bed. Now that Sebastian has actually touched him, felt Connor’s body with his own two hands, real and warm and breathing, it’s like a fantasy come to life. To never see him again...to never caress his soft skin or kiss his sweet lips... Sebastian almost can’t bear to think about that happening.

“But if you want my honest opinion,” Emel intercedes, jolting Sebastian out of his brooding meditation, “I don’t think it was mere coincidence that you were both in the same place at the same time tonight. Perhaps the Powers That Be nudged you in each other’s direction. And if they did that, it’s for a very good reason.”

The confident guess lifts Sebastian’s spirits and he looks up at the clerk with renewed optimism in his face.

“You think so? You think we’re meant to be together?”

“I think that opposites attract.” Emel’s eyes twinkle within thick rolls of pink skin. “Can’t get any more opposite than the pair of you.”

Trying not to grin too widely, Sebastian motions towards to the staircase. “I should go. Connor’s probably getting impatient. Thank you for the room and everything, Emel. You’ve been amazing,” he finishes in gratitude.

“You’re most welcome.” Emel smiles, patting Sebastian’s hand. “Feel free to drop by anytime.”

“I might just do that,” Sebastian replies as he makes his exit, quite comfortable with coming back now that he knows the clerk isn’t a murderous human-hater like a certain other demon whose headless corpse is probably still smoking and sizzling back in that alley like an overcooked leg of lamb.

“But we’ll pay next time, all right?”

“Deal. Oh, and Sebastian?”

The green-eyed man halts at the top of the steps. “Yeah?”

“Your father really was proud of you in the end. He just couldn’t tell you that. And he’s sorry.”

Those gentle words hit Sebastian right in the solar plexus and he feels his face going white.

His father is dead.

They had a falling out and never made amends. There’s no way Emel could have known about their rift unless he had some serious supernatural demon vibes going on and the fact that he does scares the shit out of Sebastian. Visibly shaken, he turns away and stumbles down the stairs, glancing back once at the odd, hairless clerk in shocked disbelief but he is working on his computer again, the crystal ball session apparently over. Taking a few calming breaths, Sebastian gathers his composure and reaches for the knob on the front door.

Outside, Connor is slumped against the brick wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he’s almost sulking. “Have a nice chat about me?”

“We did actually,” Sebastian tosses back in forced light-heartedness, ruffling Connor’s hair. “He told me what a little firebrand you are. But I already knew that.”

Fixing his red-brown locks with both hands, the eighteen year old gripes, “I hate it when people say I’m little.”

Looking down on his shorter companion, Sebastian says sympathetically, “Not that it’s a bad thing, sweetie, but you are.”

Throwing Sebastian a hot glare, Connor retorts, “Yeah, well you might be bigger than me but I can bench press, like, a car.”

“I’m sure you can,” the second man replies distractedly, pulling his phone out and switching it on again to call a cab. When the operator answers, he gives his name and the pick-up address. He really doesn’t fancy walking all the way back to his house in the dark, especially with unsteady legs. He just wants to go home; where there are no nasty shocks and the most dangerous thing around is the sharp corner of his coffee table.

While they’re waiting for the ride to arrive, Sebastian decides to bring up the spooky subject of the mystic motel owner.

“Connor, back when you were talking to Emel, did he say anything...unusual...to you?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno.” The brunette shrugs uneasily. “Like about things that might happen. Or about stuff that he had no way of knowing.”

“Oh, that.” Connor appears unconcerned. “Yeah, he’s telepathic.”

“You...you knew?” Sebastian almost wants to throttle the kid for his casualness.

“A lot of demons have that ability. But he didn’t tell me much; just that I’ll get a visitor tomorrow. And resolve some past issues.” The boy makes a musing face. “I think he’s talking about Angel. Nobody else ever visits me.”

Intrigued, he looks at Sebastian. “Why, what did he say to you?”

Not wanting to jinx the future, Sebastian declines bringing up the uncertain state of their relationship together, and instead reluctantly reveals, “If you must know, he gave me a message from beyond the grave. From a late relative of mine.”

Arching a brow, Connor replies, “Whoa. That’d have to freak you out.”

“It did.” The black-clad man scowls. “And by the way, couldn’t you have mentioned the mind-reading thing beforehand so I wasn’t taken completely by utter surprise when he did it to me?”

“Sorry. Didn’t think it was important.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Sebastian mutters. “I’m just a dumb human, aren’t I?”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Connor says again, this time sounding more remorseful. “I’m used to demons and all their weirdness. Sometimes, I forget other people aren’t.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it,” the older one admits, sitting heavily down on the front step of the tattoo parlour and hiding his trembling hands in his pockets. He stares straight ahead, thinking about what Emel told him and he shivers, even though he’s wearing a full-length coat and the night is not cold.

Sensing the troubled nature of Sebastian’s thoughts, Connor plonks down beside him on the concrete step, gazing at the male model in the streetlight, reading his body language like a book. For someone so merry and happy-go-lucky, Sebastian looks shaky and dazed, like he’s just been slapped in the face. Connor doesn’t like seeing him this way and feels partially responsible for what happened back there in the office. Like Sebastian said, he should have given a warning about Emel’s extra-sensory capability. He’s not sure which dead family member contacted Sebastian through the clairvoyant clerk or what they said, but it obviously rattled the second guy to the bone. Knowing that it’s none of his business, Connor doesn’t ask about it, however, he wants to show Sebastian that he cares and that he’s here if the other man wants to talk so he scoots closer to his upset friend, their thighs touching. Still caught up in his pensive ponderings, Sebastian doesn’t alter his pose; acting as though Connor isn’t there, which worries the younger boy somewhat.

“You okay, Seb?” he asks with a frown. Sebastian half shrugs, half shakes his head. The non-committal response deepens Connor’s apprehension and he hesitates for a few seconds before slowly slipping his hand into Sebastian’s coat pocket. He finds the taller man’s clenched fist, feeling the trembles that Sebastian was trying not to show. Connor gently uncurls Sebastian’s fingers and links them together with his own. The unexpected caring gesture finally makes Sebastian turn and for the first time he sees the anxiety in Connor’s wide blue eyes.

“It’s all right, munchkin. I’m okay,” Sebastian tells him, the shaking in his hand subsiding with the support of Connor’s long, steady fingers around his. “Just been one hell of a night, that’s all.”

“It’s my fault,” the teenager states with a mixture of guilt and self-disgust. “If I hadn’t been here none of this would have happened.”

“It’s not your fault, honey. You can’t control what a few demons do or say,” Sebastian replies, caressing the back of Connor’s thumb. “Besides, I chose to hang out with you instead of go to that bar. I wouldn’t go back and change that even if I could.”

“You sure?” Connor looks at him uncertainly, thinking that this is probably the worst date the other guy’s ever been on. “Because I can still leave if you want me to.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Sebastian chastises affectionately, leaning over to peck Connor on the cheek. “I want you to be here. And I want you to come home with me. In fact, I want you to stay the whole damn night. In my bed, on my couch, or on my floor. Either way, you’re not leaving until I let you. Got it?”

In spite of his concerns, Connor smiles, letting his amorous partner push his hair aside and nibble his ear. “Yeah. Not leaving. I got it.”

A yellow car shows up soon and the besotted couple get into the back of it, making out the whole way, not giving a flying slut what the taxi driver may think, simply unable to keep their hands off each other. Or their mouths. It’s been years since Sebastian was at high school and Connor never even went, regardless of what his senior certificate says, but the two of them carry on like a pair of kids on their way home after the prom. Sebastian quickly shoves the ghostly message to the back of his mind and concentrates on his hot little toy-boy, kissing him and whispering all the things he wants to do seductively in Connor’s ear, wanting to make him forget about being a demon magnet and imagine what fun they are going to have when they get back to Sebastian’s and have the whole place to themselves.

Sebastian’s ardent attentions are definitely working and Connor’s not focused on anything but how exciting this is, having a sensual older man want him and swear to make him feel like he’s never felt before. He’s been promised pleasures such as this in the past, been promised rewards, but they were never given to him and he was left unfulfilled and fuming. Connor knows he won’t face that disillusionment tonight because Sebastian will not leave him with his engine running and stuck in park. The dude follows through with what he says and best of all, he does it because he wishes to, not out of some sense of duty or because he feels sorry for poor lonesome Connor who never had a proper childhood. Sebastian actually desires him for who he is, even fully aware of the vampire DNA in his blood, and the eighteen year old finds that knowledge exceptionally thrilling.

Back when he was chatting with the motel clerk, Connor didn’t just get told about the unexpected visitor he’s getting tomorrow night. Emel also said that Connor was going to have an evening to remember, something really special, and he should enjoy every moment of it. Like Lorne, Emel is an empath demon and Connor totally believes him and what he said. The night’s not even halfway over yet but he’s already having the time of his young life.

The taxi drops him and Sebastian off in front of a house; nice and spacious, but not a huge Hollywood mansion like Connor was anticipating. It’s a rendered brick place, painted sandy-yellow with black trims, terracotta roof tiles, archways along the front, very Mediterranean in style. The garden consists of easy-care cactus plants and fleshy succulents interspersed with decorative rocks. In-ground solar lights are placed along a concrete driveway that leads up to a roller-door garage. There’s no front door.

“Door’s around the side,” Sebastian explains. “I always go in through here.” He brings a remote control out of his coat and upon pressing a button the roller-door whirs and slides up. Entering the garage, Connor is expecting to see some cool automobile, like a Porsche or a Trans-am but all that’s in there are motorcycles, several in various stages of assembly and repair. Some are classic 70’s and 80’s models but there are a couple of modern Japanese road bikes, one in particular a striking electric blue. It looks new and sleek, with shiny silver wheel rims and is parked on its stand over a square of carpet to stop oil drips on the floor, which is littered with spare parts.

“I like this one,” Connor says, admiring the blue bike. “Don’t you have any cars?”

Making a face of distaste, Sebastian answers, “I hate cars. They make me feel boxed in.”

“Me too,” the younger one agrees. “And they’re hard to park.”

The green-eyed man lifts his eyebrows. “You can drive?”

Shrugging, Connor replies, “When I was living with the normals, they sometimes used to let me borrow the family car, take Tracey to the movies or whatever.”

“Tracey?”

“My girlfriend. Fake girlfriend,” Connor adds.

Even though he knows it’s ludicrous, Sebastian feels insanely jealous at the idea of Connor having a past relationship, fake or not.

The boy tilts his head to the side, remembering those times behind the wheel. “It’s funny. I can recall taking lessons and even passing the driving test but none of it really happened. It’s just a false memory that was downloaded into my brain. Like something out of the Matrix.”

“So, you never actually passed the test but you have a driver’s license?”

“Yeah, but I don’t ever use it. Not that I have a car anyway. Or want one.” Connor shakes his head dismissively. “With the way traffic is here, it’s quicker to get around on foot. Although, occasionally I’ll catch a bus.”

Sebastian stares at Connor, trying to imagine him sitting in a lumbering public transport vehicle next to some creep with bad breath who talks too much and can only see the teenager getting pissed and punching the guy straight in the face, sending him crashing through the window onto the road below.

“I don’t get IN the bus. I mean, I literally catch it as it goes past,” Connor elaborates. “You get a great view of the city from on top of it.”

Still staring at Connor, this time Sebastian visualises him calmly balanced on the roof of a moving vehicle, eagle-eyes sweeping the surrounds for night crawlers, bus-surfing through L.A. like it’s a regular way to travel.

“Connor, you’re one weird, crazy kid,” the older male comments with a disbelieving grin. “But that’s exactly what I like about you. Not a dull moment.”

“You say that now,” Connor scoffs. “After you’ve been attacked for the fortieth time, the novelty kind of wears off.”

“Jesus, don’t talk about things attacking me.” Sebastian flinches, recalling how close he came to getting gutted with a knife. “C’mon, let’s go inside. I dunno about you but I need a fucking drink.”

Connor is led around the engines, mufflers and other mechanical bits and pieces that have to be dodged on the floor in order to reach the entrance to the house. Opening a door, Sebastian ushers his guest into a tiled hallway where there are motorcycle jackets and helmets hanging from hooks in the wall and a shoe rack on the floor. Connor takes one look at the pale carpet in the room ahead of him and kicks off his grubby sneakers because he has no money to pay for steam cleaning. Sebastian removes his biker boots and leather coat, leaving them in their rightful places, leading the way into his living area.

The room is large and painted a stylish grape colour, the furnishings dark brown and leather by the smell of it, the floor covering the colour of fresh cream. It’s thick and soft underfoot; almost a shagpile and Connor can see himself spread out on it in front of the enormous plasma television that’s against one wall. There are racks of CDs and DVDs either side of the large screen -- many of them vampire movies, Connor notes -- and a surround sound system and stereo are located underneath in a cabinet, along with a DVD player and game console, all of it expensive looking. There is a polished black bass guitar resting in a stand next to an amplifier. Exotic knick-knacks are scattered around the place; Australian boomerangs, Chinese statues, Japanese fans and Venetian costume masks -- souvenirs from Sebastian’s world travels. One end of the room has a wooden bar with half a surfboard mounted on it; wine goblets, champagne flutes and cocktail glasses hanging upside down above head-height. A neon light forming a palm tree with the words “BAR OPEN” sits on the long polished bench along with coasters, a small container of toothpicks and bright plastic stirrers in the shape of flamingos, dolphins and other animals. Four high stools are lined up in front, ready for guests to place their orders.

Behind the bar is a small refrigerator and shelves with many different bottles of alcohol on them, most of the labels completely unknown to Connor. Numerous scents swarm his senses with each breath he takes, some instantly recognizable, like the sourness of whiskey or freshness of mint, while others are sweet and strange. There is amber coloured liquor, clear, brown, green and brilliant blue. Some of it is transparent, the light shining through the glass, and some consists of thicker, creamier substances in candy-hues such as yellow, orange, pink and purple, the vivid display almost tempting to non-drinker Connor, who can’t help wondering what each bottle tastes like. Some of it actually smells nice, like strawberry, banana and melon. But he and alcoholic substances have never been friends nor are they likely to ever be. Never mind that the taste makes him ill; he’s seen first hand what drinking does to people, to their jobs, their health. Their families. It ruins lives and for that alone, he prefers to stay away from it.

He turns around to see Sebastian lowering the lighting and switching on the stereo. Lenny Kravitz’s soulful voice fills the room.

“Mood music,” Sebastian says cheekily. Not that they need it. He doesn’t know about Connor but he’s already in the mood for more loving. The encounter they had before in the motel room was mega-intense but far too fleeting to keep him contented. And the groping in the cab only increased his lustful urges. However, he best not jump Connor straight away or the kid might think all Sebastian wants is his body. The auburn-haired boy is walking around, interestedly checking out the area, touching things with his elegantly shaped hands and in spite of his mature restraint, Sebastian lets his eye rove over that body; that incredibly sexy, slim figure which can hardly be distinguished under those loose-fitting clothes. With a sly smirk, the more experienced male aims to resolve that problem within the next half hour.

Connor is gazing at a collection of pictures hanging on the wall, coloured and black and white shots in silver frames. In them, Sebastian is with people Connor doesn’t recognise, arms around each other, all looking happy and like they’re having a great time. He touches a photo of a very young and fresh-faced Sebastian, about fourteen, fifteen, tall for his age and leaning his head lovingly on the shoulder of an older woman. She has Sebastian’s eyes and dark curly hair, only longer, cascading down to her waist. She’s stunning, like him, and they’re both beaming, the love between them clear for the entire world to see. Looking at the two of them, Connor feels wistful and slightly jealous. He doesn’t have pictures like this, of his friends and family, because he doesn’t really have any. He doesn’t even have a picture of Angel. That’s probably a good thing because Connor would only end up using it for target practice when he’s in a bad temper.

Connor senses Sebastian coming up behind him, his pores responding to the other man’s presence like a wave of energy upon his skin.

“That’s my mom.”

“I can tell,” the teen answers softly. “She’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?” Sebastian gives a fond smile. “I’d love for you to meet her one day.”

Connor glances at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Curving an arm around Connor’s tiny waist, Sebastian lays a kiss on the top of his head. “I bet she adores you just as much as I do.”

Warmth floods through Connor at those words. Sebastian always knows the right thing to say to take away the isolating feeling of being different and alone. Starting to feel very much at home here in this room, in this house, Connor leans back, relaxing against the taller man.

“So, who’s that?” The boy motions to a picture of a cute Chinese girl holding a fluffy cat.

“That’s my younger sister, Kailee. After my parents got divorced, my mom decided she wanted a daughter so she went ahead and adopted one,” Sebastian explains. “She was nine when we got her and from the moment I first saw her little round face I loved her to death. Still do. She’s actually due to have a baby any day now, her and her husband. Can you believe it? I’m gonna be Uncle Seb!”

Hearing the pride and excitement in Sebastian’s voice, Connor smiles sadly. “You’re lucky. To have family.”

Picking up on Connor’s sorrow that he never had a sister to tease or a brother to beat up, or even a mother to fuss over him, the second man returns quietly, “I know. Very lucky.”

“What about your dad?” Connor looks for pictures but can’t find any.

“He’s not around anymore,” Sebastian says shortly, keen to avoid the topic. “We weren’t close.”

“Fathers. You don’t have to tell me how much they suck,” Connor remarks ironically. Shifting away from the subject he knows only too well about, the eighteen year old points to a photo of Sebastian with another guy; both of them sitting on motorcycles, somewhere in the desert, set against a backdrop of massive red rocks. They’re both giving the thumbs-up sign. The other guy is handsome, sandy-haired, goatee beard. He looks like a model too.

“And that guy?”

“That’s Oliver,” Sebastian replies with obvious affection in his tone. “We went to Australia two years ago and cruised around it on bikes. It was unreal, even though the flies nearly ate us alive.”

“Was he your boyfriend?” Connor enquires, attempting not to appear envious.

Laughing, Sebastian returns, “God, no! He’s my best mate. And straight as a ruler, mind you. Don’t worry, muffin. Ain’t no way he’s interested in my gay ass.” He winks at Connor. “Anyway, he knows all about my gigantic crush on you.”

Instead of being flattered, Connor stiffens. “You’ve told him about me?”

“Well, not that you ram pointy sticks in undead creatures every night,” Sebastian concedes. “I told him you saved me from a mugging. But yeah, he knows I like this cute, kick-ass teenager with gorgeous red hair. He has to tell me to shut up about you sometimes, especially when I keep going on about how your eyes are the bluest I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Sebastian’s complimentary teasing has the desired effect and Connor starts to smile, liking what he’s hearing.

“I talked about you so much, Oliver said to me that I should stop moping and go find you.” The bigger male presses his lips gratefully to Connor’s temple. “But you found me instead, cupcake. And now that I have you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

With romance on his mind, Sebastian moves his younger partner’s long auburn mane aside, intending to kiss him on the side of the neck and it’s then that he sees that the knife cut given by the coal demon is no more than a dark pink line on Connor’s alabaster skin. Gazing closely at the wound, Sebastian reckons it looks days old, not mere hours. It’s not bleeding and the edges of it have knitted together, the flesh closed up almost completely.

“That cut is nearly gone,” he exclaims in wonder. Connor just makes a sound of acceptance, like this is something he experiences regularly.

“If you’re like, indestructible, then why do you have this?” Sebastian motions to a small circular scar under Connor’s right eyebrow, something he’s only noticed tonight. “Why didn’t that heal?”

Connor’s fingers go up to the mark, absently tracing it as he remembers the past.

“It happened on Qor’toth. When I was four. I was exploring the Darkened Forest, by myself, and came across a spiny Toad-eater. Tried to catch it. Got a barbed quill stuck in the bone of my eye socket.”

Seb winces. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Swelled up so badly I could hardly see. I nearly got lost. When I finally came running back to the cave my father...” Connor stops himself and looks down, embarrassed at his accidental slip. “I mean, Holtz. His name was Daniel Holtz.”

The boy is silent for a moment, contemplative, as if he misses the man who raised him but then shakes his head and continues.

“I thought he was gonna yell at me for wandering off alone but he didn’t. He just pulled the quill out. Told me how brave I was for not crying.” He gives a shrug. “I don’t know why it never healed up properly. Maybe I wasn’t as strong then as I am now.”

“Poor baby,” Sebastian murmurs, tenderly kissing the scar, like something a mother would do, the soothing gesture making Connor even more wistful for all the things he never got to have in his growing years. All those childhood experiences other people take for granted and have probably forgotten. First day of school. Peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. Bandaids on grazed knees. Playing with other kids. Helping mom bake cookies. A pet dog. Toys. Cartoons on TV before dinner. Being tucked into bed at night. Having stories read to him.

Such simple things...Yet if he’d had them, he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.

Knowing what the kid is thinking, Sebastian decides to get those much-needed drinks before Connor’s melancholy settles in and spoils the night. Going to the fridge behind the bar, he prompts, “Want a beer?”

“Beer tastes as cruddy as it smells.” Connor appears unimpressed. “Tried it once. Made me puke.”

As he would like to be kissed tonight, Sebastian quickly puts back the bottle of ale he was going to drink himself and instead cracks open some alcoholic apple cider, taking a deep swig of the tart, refreshing liquid before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and asking, “All right, what else? Name your choice. I got a fully stocked bar.”

“I don’t drink. I don’t like alcohol.”

“You just haven’t tried the right stuff,” Sebastian persists. His face lights up as he gets an idea. “I know. How about I whip you up a Mudsludge? With your sweet tooth, you should definitely like one of those.”

Connor does that intent puzzled look, head slightly cocked. “What is it?”

“It’s a cocktail I invented. Just like a chocolate milkshake. Only better.” Sebastian grins persuasively. “What do you say, huh? Game?”

“Okay...I guess,” Connor replies sceptically, taking a seat in one of the stools and watching as the more knowledgeable male bustles around getting together a silver cocktail shaker, a spirit measure and a large hurricane glass. Sebastian produces some crushed ice out of the freezer compartment of the bar fridge and then selects a bottle of clear liquid off the shelf, labelled with a Russian-sounding name. Vodka. Two shots are measured out and tipped into the shaker, over ice. Vodka is widely known to be odourless and flavourless, so it shouldn’t upset Connor’s delicately attuned sense of taste or smell. He’ll still be able to notice the warmth of it sliding down his throat but it will be overshadowed by the sweetness of crème de cacao and the smoothness of milk, both of which Sebastian adds to the alcohol in the bottom of the stainless steel shaker along with a dash of vanilla essence, a squirt of chocolate syrup and a good glop of fresh cream. The lid is put onto the container and then shaken vigorously until frost starts to form on the outside shell of it. With a practised hand, the twenty six-year old swirls more chocolate syrup around the inside of the hurricane glass -- both for decoration and a richer taste -- before straining the thick, frothy mixture into it and dusting the top with cocoa powder.

“Try this and tell me you don’t like it,” Sebastian dares, dropping a curly straw into the glass and passing it over to Connor, who has been observing the mixing process with curiosity. The teenage boy sniffs the drink. It smells appetising so he takes a tentative sip.

“Nice,” he utters, sounding surprised and pleased, unable to even taste the vodka, though he knows it’s in there.

“Told you so,” Sebastian states smugly, leaning on the bar and taking another chug of his adult apple juice. Clearly not one for following the rules of polite drinking, Connor pulls the fancy straw out, tips the flared glass up to his lips and gulps down the whole lot without stopping for a breath. After fighting the demon earlier, he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was and this creamy concoction soothes his dry throat quite agreeably. Licking his lips and relishing the chocolaty flavour left in his mouth, Connor feels the alcohol heating the inside of his stomach but it’s a pleasant sensation; the first time he’s been able to keep it down without getting sick. Almost instantly, the vodka seeps into his blood and goes to his head, making him giddily happy; all his troubles seeming insignificant and not worth worrying over. Tonight is all about having a good time, about enjoying the company of someone else, about doing things normal people do on a Friday night. Sometimes all he wants is just to be normal and not some half-vampiric, half-demonic freak so hey, if a drink helps him to feel like that then it can’t be all bad.

“Can I have another one?”

“Sure can, sparky,” Sebastian replies with a grin at Connor’s childlike eagerness. The younger one leans forward to hand his empty glass over for a refill. And then, without warning, he slides off his stool, disappearing behind the front of the bar with a thump. Alarmed, Sebastian hurries around, finding Connor sitting on his rear end with a comically bewildered look on his face. Helping the boy up from the shaggy carpet, the taller man queries, “You okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Connor looks around himself in confusion. “I must have slipped.”

Sebastian frowns at Connor. The kid is like a frickin’ panther. He has suburb balance. He doesn’t slip.

Staring up at Sebastian’s concerned gaze, Connor blurts out, “Your eyes are like Gummi Bears.”

Still frowning, the other man repeats, “Gummi Bears?”

“Same green.” Connor smiles crookedly. “Pretty.”

“You’re drunk,” Sebastian exclaims in disbelief. “Jesus! I didn’t make it that strong.”

“I’m not drunk,” Connor objects in a decidedly slurred voice, struggling to even stand up straight.

“I know drunk when I see it. And from one cocktail?” The sober man slowly shakes his head in shock. “My God. You really aren’t human, are you?”

“I’m still half,” Connor retorts, offended. “At least I don’t have a tail.” Suddenly appearing anxious, he grabs at his butt. “Do I?”

“No, sweetness. You don’t.” Smiling gently at his inebriated guest, Sebastian assures, “I should know. I’ve seen you naked.”

Connor glances up coyly through his girlish eyelashes, suddenly horny. “Do you wanna see me naked again?”

“Oh, boy,” Sebastian sighs regretfully, combing a hand through his shoulder-length ebony curls. “I do but... I shouldn’t take advantage of you like this.”

A smirk skews Connor’s full lips. “Yes, you should.”

“But you’re not yourself right now. You don’t even know what you’re doing,” the older man dissuades.

“I know exactly what I’m doing. It’s called hitting on you. With no actual hitting,” Connor purrs, moving closer and running his fingers insinuatingly up Sebastian’s arm. “Except for maybe my hips into yours.”

Sebastian groans inwardly, the redhead’s touch searing his skin, even through the sleeve of his shirt. God help him, he knows this is wrong but damn -- drunk, slutty Connor is hot. However, he’ll hate himself in the morning if he gives into his lust. Connor would probably hate him too, especially if he can’t remember what happened or what Sebastian did to him while he was under the influence. Before he can get himself into serious trouble, Sebastian steps back, away from the scorching flames in Connor’s eyes.

“Don’t, darlin’. I don’t want to do anything with you unless you’re fully aware of what’s going on.”

“I’m aware.” The eighteen year old stares at him deliberately. “I’m aware that your pulse is faster. That your body’s warming up. That your breathing is shallower. I’m aware of a lot of things.”

“Except for the fact that you’re smashed on two shots of vodka,” Sebastian mutters.

“Vodka’s got nothing to do with it. We’d be doing this anyway. You’ve said like, twenty times already that you want me.” Closing his eyes, the pale-skinned youth takes a deep breath in through his nose.

“Besides, I can smell it. Your want. It’s strong.”

Cursing his own flooding pheromones, Sebastian grinds out, “That still doesn’t mean you have to sleep with me.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Connor arches a brow evilly. “I’m not tired. Are you?”

“I really don’t think...”

It doesn’t matter if Sebastian is nobly trying to resist because Connor takes the matter into his own hands. Using those spider-like fingers that are much stronger than they look, Connor grasps the front of his reluctant partner’s white linen shirt and rips it open, buttons pinging in all directions.

“Connor...”

“Shut up, Seb. I’m seducing you. Learn to cope.”

One more quick yanking motion and the shirt is torn right off the older man and thrown halfway across the room, the designer garment reduced to nothing more than a heap of shredded rags. Not that Sebastian can do anything about it. Connor is a super-being. If he wants this to happen then it’s gonna damn well happen whether Sebastian protests or not. There’s no point fighting the kid. And honestly, Sebastian doesn’t want to fight so he stands there topless and hopelessly turned on; Connor’s vivid blue eyes roaming over him in fascination, as if the boy has never seen him like this before. Which he hasn’t, to tell the truth.

What Connor is only just discovering is that the muscles on the older male’s arms and torso are much more pronounced than they were a year ago. Harder. Bigger. Back then Sebastian’s figure was leaner, slenderer, verging on androgynous, which is why he could wear a dress and get away with it. But not now. Now, he’s one hundred percent pure brawn. The guy’s been working out like whoa, Connor deduces with a large measure of mouth-watering appreciation. He’s got a tight-looking six-pack and his hips are sharply shaped to a vee. His sculpted biceps and forearms have a prominent vein running down them on the insides, highlighting his newfound physical fitness, thinning and merging into the veins on the back of his hands. The twenty-six year old’s contoured chest is brown and buff but not waxed bare like last time; a fine mat of dark hair starting under his collarbones, sweeping across his broad pecs and tapering down to his navel.

There is also hair on and under his arms, which wasn’t there previously. If it had been, perhaps Connor might have realised Sebastian was really a dude before he’d been shocked by the sight of the second man fresh out of the shower, his makeup washed off and his curling black hair still dripping wet. He was as smooth as a girl then but not anymore, the fuzz continuing underneath his bellybutton and trailing beneath the waistband of his pants to join up with yet more fuzz there. All that body hair might be a turn off to some people but to Connor it’s just another intriguing layer of Sebastian’s new, sexier, manlier form, a form that he definitely admires. One thing that is still the same from twelve months ago is the silver ring looped through his left nipple, gleaming alluringly in the dim lamp light.

Finally dragging his enthralled gaze back to Sebastian’s face, Connor remarks jokingly, “No bra tonight, huh?”

“No bra ever again,” Sebastian replies in a solemn tone. “I don’t dress in women’s clothes anymore. Not just because high heels make it hard to run but because it’s not who I am any longer. That me is gone and she’s not coming back.”

By the way he is squinting it seems Connor doesn’t understand this so Sebastian admits, “See, when you saved me from that vamp a year ago, you put me to shame, kiddo. If you hadn’t showed up, I’d be a corpse rotting in the ground by now. Either that or I’d BE one of them.” He grits his jaw in momentary disgust.

“I was a fully grown adult and I couldn’t even protect myself. I was fucking pathetic.”

“But I had experience in slaying vamps,” Connor chips in. “You didn’t.”

“I know, urchin,” Sebastian answers appreciatively, “but the fact that I couldn’t even fight back at all made me hate myself. I felt useless and weak. And I didn’t like that feeling. Hence, all the training I’ve been doing. I wanted to be tough, like you.”

He reaches out and clasps Connor’s upper arm, gazing into the teen’s wide azure eyes.

“You are my inspiration, Connor,” the second male states frankly and thankfully. “You made me embrace my masculinity, my strength, my power. You made me more of a man. And I am forever indebted to you for that.”

Astounded to learn that he can affect someone’s life in such a remarkable manner, Connor gapes at him, not sure how to reply to Sebastian’s flattering declaration.

“And right now this man wants you to keep going,” Sebastian continues, taking Connor’s white hand and laying it on his tanned chest, waiting to see what the teenager does next. Connor pauses for a minute, feeling the thud of Sebastian’s heart beneath his palm, marvelling at how it’s growing quicker with his touch, as if beating for him alone. Nobody else’s heart beats for Connor. Especially not the night-stalkers that he disposes of. They’re dead. They don’t remember what it feels like to have that rhythmic thumping behind the breastbone, pushing blood around the body and keeping it functioning. They don’t remember how fast the heartbeat can get in times of danger or exhilaration, how it shows a person’s emotions, like it’s showing Sebastian’s at this very moment. It’s a distinct reminder of how human the other man is and Connor relishes the moment as the only beings he’s touched lately are cold and lifeless, not warm and alive and breathing like this.

“You have a pulse too, you know,” Sebastian comments, reminding Connor that although he came from vampires, he’s not one of them.

“I know.” Connor’s voice is quiet. “But it’s been a while since I’ve felt someone else’s.”

The older guy knows it’s a stupid male possessive thing but he’s glad Connor hasn’t felt anyone’s heartbeat for a while because if he had, it would mean he got up close and personal with somebody recently and Sebastian doesn’t like the thought of that at all. He wants Connor all to himself. The boy should belong to him. And as of tonight, Sebastian’s going to make sure that he does.

“Touch me, Connor,” he urges huskily, moving the eighteen year old’s slender fingers to his pierced nipple. “Do whatever you want to me. I’m all yours.”

Recalling how much Sebastian liked the ring being played with, Connor turns his attention to it, beginning to toy with the hoop of silver in the second man’s flesh. Spotting something, he halts and leans closer, making a soft sound of distress at the small crescent of scarred tissue around Sebastian’s areola, where the skin had been ripped and healed up again.

“I did that,” Connor whispers, face stricken with blame as he remembers his accidentally rough tugging last time they were in bed together. He swallows and lifts his gaze up to Sebastian’s, his eyes pained and remorseful.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea it would scar.”

“Don’t be sorry, seraph. It’s not that noticeable. It doesn’t even show up in photographs,” Sebastian replies kindly, covering Connor’s hand with his own. “Besides, it reminds me of the night I first met you. And for that reason alone I like it.”

“You...like it?” Connor asks uncertainly.

“I do.” Sebastian smiles forgivingly. “Now, if you’re done apologising, I’d really like to have sex with you soon.”

That brazen prompting dispels most of the guilt Connor feels at what he did one year ago but he’s still wary of doing it again so as he touches Sebastian’s piercing, he does it extra carefully, outlining the embedded item of jewellery, lifting it up and letting it drop back, gently rubbing the nub of one flat male nipple until it tightens. It’s not long before Sebastian is murmuring his encouragement and tipping his head back, eyes closing with the sparkling sensations Connor’s exploratory fingers are sending across his chest.

Looking at the engrossed, trancelike expression of sensuality on the older guy’s face -- lips slackening enough to reveal the edges of two front teeth, eyebrows drawing together in self-absorbed concentration -- Connor finds it highly rewarding to know that he’s the cause of it. He’s never made anyone look like that before, as if they’re getting lost in themselves, lost in what he’s doing to them, focused only on the enjoyment they are receiving. It’s a hot look. Now, if only he can get a moan...

While Sebastian’s eyes are shut, Connor drops to his knees in front of those awesomely hard abs and unfastens his taller partner’s pants, feeling unusually bold and confident thanks to the alcohol in his system. Feeling lips on his skin, Sebastian snaps his head forward, staggered to find Connor kneeling between his legs on the floor, laying clumsy kisses on his stomach while tugging down the front of his trunks. Vodka may not taste like anything but it sure did something potent to Connor’s sensibilities, apparently dissolving his deeply-ingrained reservations to the stage of non-existent. Too stunned to say anything, Sebastian watches in aroused disbelief as Connor’s hand takes hold of his heated male width, the boy inspecting it for a moment before lapping a crystal-clear droplet from the slit using his quick pink tongue.

Sebastian has never gasped so loud in his entire life. It’s like he just got zapped on the dick with a cattle prod.

As if that wasn’t shocking enough, he almost passes out completely when Connor starts sliding those cherry-red lips down his shaft, the boy’s cheeks hollowing as he sucks. The fact that he’s got the teenage vampire hunter’s gorgeous mouth around his cock is nearly blowing Sebastian’s mind. And something else.

“Oh, shit. Stop, baby, stop,” he pleads, urgently grabbing fistfuls of Connor’s long hair and yanking while simultaneously jerking his pelvis away.

Pulling back, Connor licks his glistening lips and gazes up at Sebastian anxiously, betraying the fact that he has never done this before, despite his enthusiastic efforts.

“Am I not doing it right?”

“No, it’s not that,” Sebastian stresses breathlessly. “You’re doing it TOO right.”

It’s fortunate they fucked before because if he hadn’t had that first orgasm, he would have exploded in Connor’s hot little mouth the instant it touched him. He’s dangerously close to that point as it is. If the kid doesn’t like the taste of beer, he’s sure as hell not going to like cum, especially not a whole startling gush of it.

Hauling Connor back to his feet and smacking an apologetic kiss to his furrowed brow, Sebastian explains, “That’s the problem, honeybee. I don’t want it to be like earlier, in the motel room. That was over too quickly. I want this to last, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor replies uncertainly, unsure of the next move as Sebastian continues undressing, pushes his underwear and half-undone trousers down to his ankles, revealing muscled brown thighs and calves.

“I’m still waiting for you to get naked,” Sebastian hints teasingly, stepping out of his pants and rolling down the long socks he wears with his biker boots. “I’m even going first so you don’t feel self-conscious. Unless you really don’t want me to see your tail...”

Grinning foolishly, Connor grips the hem of his navy-blue top, raising it up to expose his tiny tummy and even tinier waist. He peels the cotton article of clothing over his head and discards it, shaking his dark red hair out so it settles silkily over his creamy shoulders and down his back. Sebastian is openly watching him with those cat-like green eyes but Connor doesn’t get self-conscious about disrobing in front of other people. He never has. The very first day he arrived in L.A. and met Sunny, she gave him some old clothes to change into and he stripped off his chamois suit in full view of her, not knowing any better. There was no shame on Qor’toth, no comparing bodies of other boys, no locker room sniggering. There were no other humans on that plane of existence except him and Holtz. As a result, he never learned what embarrassment was. Clothes are just another layer of skin, after all.

With this casual attitude, he takes off his baggy jeans, his briefs and socks, dumping them on the carpet. He leans down to unbuckle the scabbard around his ankle, the knife he cut the demon with still sitting in the leather sheath. That joins the pile of clothes on the floor. Around his other ankle are three wooden stakes strapped to a holster along with a small bottle of holy water and a silver cross. When hunting, he likes to go out fully prepped. He tosses those to the side, finally and completely divested of all his garments and possessions. Unlike Sebastian, Connor wears no jewellery. Also unlike Sebastian, he is remarkably fair-skinned, fairer than the petals of a lily. He doesn’t even have freckles. Of course, growing up in a sunless hell dimension will do that to you. Even here on earth, Connor rarely ventures out in the daytime because the vamps and demons are in hiding so his pristine flesh will stay like this for a very long time.

Sebastian sweeps his spellbound gaze over that svelte, moonlight-pale body, mentally memorising every unique feature: the high forehead and stubbornly-set chin, long arms and pointy elbows, the round shoulders, the deep hollow at the base of a graceful throat, the flat chest and small rosy nipples, the softly shaped stomach with its thumbprint of a navel, the autumn brown ringlets low on his abdomen above the half-hard evidence of his desire, the lean legs and slim ankles, the sharpness of ribs and hips showing beneath parchment-fine skin. Connor’s bones look so delicate, so light and bird-like, as if they would snap with only a little pressure though Sebastian knows those bones are a lot tougher than they appear. Just like the rest of him. Some people might think that he is too thin. Too gaunt. But Sebastian knows that’s just the boy’s natural makeup. He was born like that. And it’s not like he’s undernourished. He eats. He loves food; sweet things in particular, it seems. Hell, he should be overweight with all the candy and chocolate he consumes. However much sugary junk he stuffs into that little belly of his, Connor burns it all off beating up ghouls and ghastlies every night. Yes, he may be petite but he’s fit and he’s healthy and that’s all that matters. Besides, Sebastian cannot imagine the waif-child looking any other way. He’s perfect.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Sebastian tells him in a hushed, heartfelt tone. Seeing the doubt in Connor’s face, he reaffirms, “You are. In my job I work with a lot of attractive people but with your white skin, red hair and red lips, you’re more stunning than anyone I’ve ever seen, guy or girl. Your eyes...Lord, they take my breath away.”

Though he doesn’t truly believe those words, Connor lets himself bask in the warmness of Sebastian’s voice, in the warmness of his emerald gaze.

“What makes you especially beautiful, Connor, is that you don’t even know it.”

The younger boy thinks that Sebastian is totally the better-looking one out of the pair of them -- hello, catwalk model? -- but the second man doesn’t give him time to make an objection, stepping up to Connor and taking his hand.

“I love every bit of you, babe,” Sebastian says in a murmur, lifting Connor’s hand and kissing the bump on the outer side of his wrist. “I love that part.”

Connor’s hand is turned over and his arm extended as Sebastian presses his lips to the inside of the youth’s elbow, right on the crease, trying not to scrape Connor’s soft skin with his rough stubble.

“And that part.”

He glides his fingers up Connor’s arm, reaching the kid’s barely-there bicep, proving his love for that too with a gentle kiss. “And this.”

Determined to make Connor feel the beauty that he cannot see for himself, Sebastian keeps kissing all the parts he loves about the other boy: a narrow shoulder, the side of his neck, one fragile collarbone; the tall male’s curls falling forward and brushing Connor’s chest like ribbons of black satin.

The softness and tenderness that is bestowed upon him by his older partner brings Connor close to tears, the touch of Sebastian’s lips loving and reverential, the kind of affection he hasn’t been given before, by anyone. People say you can’t miss something you never had in the first place but God, he didn’t know how much he missed this until now. How much he needed this.

Bending and tilting his head, Sebastian kisses the middle of Connor’s hairless chest and then, cupping the teen’s ribcage, he slides his lips to one rose-pink nipple. When he flickers his tongue against Connor’s sensitive flesh, the eighteen year old sucks in a breath, his need for human contact turning into something deeper, hungrier, and more primeval. Craving more of Connor’s tasty flesh, Sebastian moves his mouth southward along his pretty partner’s chest, gradually sinking to his knees as if worshipping a god, thumbs caressing jutting hipbones. Connor looks down with heavily-lidded eyes, lust snaking into his gut like poison-berry juice as the other nude man kisses above his belly button. Then below it, in that space before his pubes, temptingly close to where Connor would like those lips. Before he can get what he wants, Sebastian glances up, his green gaze smoky with passion.

“Come here, precious,” he instructs, starting to lie back on the fluffy carpet, pulling Connor down with him, assisting the smaller boy to kneel so that he ends up above Sebastian on the floor, straddling his chest. Laying his hands on Connor’s trim waist, Sebastian urges him forward, closer to his face. Totally erect by now, the drunken teenager readily complies, never having tried this position before but quite keen to. Unexpectedly, Sebastian slides further underneath Connor, between his spread thighs, something the younger one hadn’t anticipated and isn’t sure he’s comfortable with. He feels exposed and defenceless like this. And it scares him a little. Knowing this, Sebastian kisses his inner thigh, stroking him, calming him. When the taller man leisurely licks along the join of Connor’s left thigh and groin, warm and wetly probing, Connor draws in a fast breath, rocked by the evocative nature of it, by the sheer intimacy of such an act. But it’s about to get a whole lot more intimate. When the licking turns to his two most vulnerable body parts, he briefly tenses but Sebastian is being extra gentle and soon nothing matters except the fact that someone’s tongue is on him. This is all brand new and unfamiliar but Connor starts to get very used to the idea as Sebastian skilfully pleasures his twin male pouches, swirling around them, mouthing them one at a time, lightly sucking; the oral adulation positively spine-tingling, causing goose bumps to rise on the skin of his arms and chest.

Back in the alley, Sebastian said he would do this and Connor wants to thank the other man for deciding to because he didn’t realise how freaking incredible it was. Gay guys definitely know how to use their mouths. After this night, Connor knows that he will probably never go back to girls again but screw it. This is too good. He releases a long, rapturous sigh, shivery thrills spiralling up through the centre of his being and finishing in his brain, leaving him even more light-headed than the alcohol.

All too soon for Connor, Sebastian moves back up, placing an affectionate peck on the kid’s milky thigh as he goes. He lifts his curly head, finding Connor’s more-than-ready manhood waiting for him, aimed right at his face. Kissing the rounded end, he then nuzzles it, relishing the velvety texture against his lips and the slick, sweet-tasting secretion smearing on them. Connor impatiently nudges him so Sebastian opens his mouth and lets the kid push in, the ridged tip entering first. Rocking his hips, Connor goes in bit by bit, allowing enough time for Sebastian to coat him with saliva, making it easier to for the other man to take his entire length. Eventually, Sebastian has achieved that -- thanks to years of practice and a very flexible jaw -- and the picture of his dick being deep-throated by the other man is supremely sexy to Connor, like a scene from a pornographic movie, not that he’s watched many of those. And none of them have ever starred anyone as hot as the dude below him right now.

Threading his fingers into the male model’s lustrous hair, Connor cradles his head, supporting him so that all Sebastian has to do is suck. Watching every moment, he slowly disappears into Sebastian’s accommodating mouth and out again, the second male’s spit glimmering on his shaft. It’s just like his secret, shameful fantasies, the ones he’d have staring at that shirtless photograph of Sebastian in the magazine. After all this time alone, without any touch but that of his own hand, Connor almost can’t believe this is actually happening to him in real life. But it is. And while it lasts, he’s gonna enjoy each delicious second of it.

Apparently enjoying this as well, Sebastian has his eyes shut dreamily and he’s absently drawing patterns on Connor’s upper legs with his fingertips, the kid’s hardness sliding between the circle of his lips, along his tongue and past the back of his throat. As he sucks, the twenty-six year old’s restless hands travel up to the swell of his teenage lover’s small backside, cupping the firm flesh, pausing to trace the tantalising gully running down it. Unable to help himself, Sebastian presses his first two fingers into that gully, between the boy’s buttocks.

Connor jolts so violently he nearly makes Sebastian cough.

Letting his head drop back down to the floor, Sebastian licks his lips and promises quickly, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Never gonna hurt you, darlin’. Just wanna touch you there. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Connor demands suspiciously.

“I swear on my momma’s life. Trust me, Connor. Please.”

Seeing the honesty in Sebastian’s imploring eyes, Connor’s tenseness begins to lessen and he realises that he shouldn’t be so uptight. After all, if he’s going to be queer like Sebastian, he ought to try these things, at least once. “Okay,” he says indecisively but he sinks back down, trustingly taking the other man’s word.

Sebastian knows he’s in a position of great responsibility. What he does next will have a long-term impact on Connor -- for better or worse -- and the last thing he wants is for it to be a negative one so he doesn’t dive right in straight away; he resumes orally stimulating Connor again; licking him, swallowing him, using his lips and tongue in the most sensual way he knows how while gliding his palms up and down the back of the boy’s thighs until he settles. Then, when Connor starts to get turned on again, breathing more rapidly, Sebastian eases his fingers into the teen’s untouched valley, careful not to startle him. When he finds what he’s searching for Sebastian lets a gratified moan rumble in his chest, quite aware that he’s being given a special privilege nobody else has. He gently rubs the spot, circling the half-demon child’s private entranceway, making sure he keeps sucking Connor at the same time. From his own experiences, Sebastian knows it feels better this way.

He’s correct. Connor didn’t think he’d like this, being touched in such a personal place, but the sensation is actually pleasurable, especially combined with the expertise of the mouth working on his dick. The rubbing and the sucking are in two different locations but the feeling spreads and merges until the whole area between his legs throbs achingly, pulsing with burning need. A soft sound escapes him; halfway between a whimper and a moan.

Halting for a few moments, Sebastian whispers, “Is it okay?”

“Yeah,” Connor whispers back, combing his fingers into Sebastian’s hair and pulling him closer, wanting more in his intoxicated haze. “Keep going.”

Given such encouraging feedback, Sebastian doesn’t stop for long, greedily engulfing Connor’s stiffened staff, his right hand busily delving into the second boy’s crack, aiming to make him come like never before.

He must be doing something right because Connor’s nearly there already, his reproductive organs heavy and full. The vodka reacting to his unusual blood type in conjunction with an elevated state of arousal causes the boy’s heart to pound much more powerfully than it should and he speedily heats up, his cheeks colouring as his body temperature climbs. As Sebastian sucks him, Connor begins to respond with short, thrusting motions of his pelvis, a sheen of perspiration gathering on his pale skin, causing it to gleam in the lamplight, soon turning into rivulets of sweat which roll down his sleek spine and into his cleft, making it wet and slippery where the taller man is touching him. That slipperiness proves too irresistible to Sebastian and he presses harder against that tempting little opening. When his fingertip breaks through and penetrates in, Connor hisses, jerking with the abrupt unexpectedness of it, an electrically charged shock shooting right up his spinal column, taking him to the edge of ejaculation with a suddenness he never thought possible.

Connor is so hot inside. So fucking tight, just like Sebastian knew he would be. Groaning in his throat, the dark-haired male slowly slides the rest of his finger into the teenager’s gripping heat, getting off tremendously by Connor’s almost astonished responses. Unlike his green-eyed lover, Connor’s not very vocal during sex, expressing his pleasure with shallow breaths and hitched gasps rather than loud moans or religious exclamations but the small, needy noises that he makes are the sweetest sounds in the world to Sebastian’s ears. He has done this to more than a few guys in the past but it’s never excited him to this sort of degree before. The reason is that it’s Connor he’s doing it to. And Connor’s not stopping him. It’s probably only because he’s drunk and though Sebastian didn’t really want to take advantage of the kid’s uninhibited condition it seems he is after all. He’ll probably get his face slapped in the morning or a knee in the balls for doing this without asking permission but right now he’s willing to take any punishment Connor might dole out to him because this is the hottest, most erotic moment of his life, so erotic in fact that he’s about to jizz all over his own stomach.

Also about to lose control is the younger half of the duo. Sebastian has activated nerve endings Connor didn’t even know he had and those plus the ones in his prick being manipulated together is almost too much for him handle at once, driving him crazy with sensory overload, his skin covered in chills and his crotch afire. Holding the brunette male’s head with both hands, he fucks Sebastian’s moist, receptive mouth, faster and deeper, panting as he gets nearer and nearer to the release he craves. Still making muffled groans around Connor’s plunging cock, Sebastian continues fingering the eighteen year old’s beautiful ass, stretching him, loosening him up. In a strangled voice, Connor says Sebastian’s name, like a warning, and the older man doubles his efforts, sucking harder and pushing into that virgin hole as far as he can go, right up to his knuckles. As he’s coming, Connor is aware that Sebastian has somehow gotten two fingers all the way inside him but doesn’t care, gasping jaggedly as indescribably intense tremors ripple through his belly and down both thighs, his muscles tightening and releasing with shudders. In the midst of such an extreme climax, Connor shoves into his partner’s mouth a little too roughly but Sebastian lets his throat relax so he can take the deep thrust and the sudden surge of warm fluid that comes with it.

When Connor stops shuddering and slumps there on Sebastian’s chest, catching his breath, Sebastian grasps the shorter male’s hips, lifting him away and setting him down on the floor, on his knees. Still lying on the carpet, the twenty-six year old grabs Connor by the back of the head and yanks him down to groin level. For a bewildering minute Connor thinks that Sebastian will force him to suck and swallow but the older man simply takes a handful of his hair and wraps it around his own shaft, using it to jerk off with. The cool silk of Connor’s long locks slides sensually over the blistering flesh of his dick and with a few quick flicks of his wrist, Sebastian gets himself off, screwing his face up and holding his breath, perfect white teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he comes. Quite close to the action, a couple of spurts of semen narrowly miss Connor’s eye, landing instead in his hair and clumping the reddish strands together.

“Oh, yeah,” Sebastian sighs, sweet relief sweeping over his body at last. “Oh, God yeah...”

He drags in a few heaving lungfuls of air, replenishing the oxygen supply to his brain. Finally cracking his eyes open, he sees what he’s done to Connor’s auburn tresses and hurriedly lets go, the boy holding out that section of hair, peering at the whitish gunk lodged in it.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Sebastian apologises, sitting up and handing over the remains of his shirt for Connor to clean up with. “You just got me so hot.”

“It’s okay.” Connor shrugs as he wipes it off, as if he gets sperm flung at him all the time.

Feeling guilty for doing what he promised not to, Sebastian asks tentatively, “I didn’t...I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Like you could anyway,” Connor mocks, giving Sebastian a teasing shove, feeling relaxed and playful after his second, surprisingly strong orgasm. “You’ve got to be over ten feet tall with cloven hooves and a body made of volcanic rock to be able to hurt me.”

Eyes going round, Sebastian exclaims, “Are you serious? Is there really something like that out there?”

“There was.” Connor shifts onto his side, propping his head up with his palm as he gazes off into the distance. “Called The Beast. Skin so hard no weapons would go through it. Not knives, not bullets; nothing manmade.”

“Shit.” Sebastian blinks.

“It’s the only thing that has ever broken me. I’d never been broken before.” Connor unconsciously feels his ribs which have long since healed. “Anyway, it’s dead. Angelus killed it. I wish I’d done it but whatever.” He lifts a shoulder grudgingly.

“So, your father must be pretty tough too,” Sebastian estimates in awe. “If he could kill a creature like that.”

“Angelus is NOT my father,” Connor rebounds strongly, making it very clear. “Just his evil clone. So he could destroy The Beast, Angel’s soul had to be removed. His friends did it to him.” He curls his lip in derision.

“They used magic. Things always go wrong when they use magic.”

Crossing his legs like a first-grader at story time, Sebastian prompts, “Why, what happened?

Reliving the horrifying carnage and mayhem that ensued, the teen mutters blackly, “Well, he destroyed The Beast all right, but letting a two hundred year old psycho serial killer loose on the world? Not good. He would have killed all of us. His friends. Even me.”

“Shit,” Sebastian says again, this time in a more fearful tone. “I hope you don’t introduce me to your old man anytime soon because, damn. He sounds like one scary fucking dude.”

“We got his soul back. He’s not scary anymore,” Connor assures him. “Most of the time he’s just a goofy, embarrassing dad. Asks too many personal questions. Hugs me in public. That kinda thing.” He tilts his head at Sebastian.

“Would you ever want to meet him?”

“I dunno.” Only half kidding, the brunette male adds, “Would he try to eat me?”

Smiling wryly, Connor says, “He’s on a pigs’ blood diet. No necks. You’d be safe.”

“Well, maybe then,” Sebastian concedes hesitantly. “One day. Only if you wanted me to.” He looks inquisitively at Connor. “Why, would you want me to?”

“I dunno.” Connor ponders this. “Maybe.”

Suddenly realising what they are discussing, Connor groans and rolls his eyes. “Why do we keep talking about my dad? Lame.”

“You’re right. That is lame,” Sebastian admits. “I mean, we’re both sitting here naked. I can think of other things I’d rather be talking about.”

Starting to grin, Connor questions, “Like what?”

“Like how gorgeous you are.” Sebastian smiles sexily. “And how much I want to...”

“Hold that thought. I gotta pee,” Connor announces, making an uncomfortable face and getting up. “Bathroom?”

Pointing, Sebastian directs, “Down the hall, fourth door on the right.”

His bladder urgently needing to be emptied, Connor lurches unsteadily down the corridor, still a little dizzy, craning his neck around and peeking into each room he passes on the way. There is a formal dining room fancied up like a page out of a home renovation magazine, complete with white china plates, cutlery and glassware all laid out on a long table ready for a dinner party, two other bedrooms – one of which has been turned into a computer room/office -- and a gym, full of training equipment like weights, dumbbells, a treadmill and step machine. There’s a fifth room Sebastian didn’t mention and Connor curiously sticks his head into it, discovering Sebastian’s boudoir. There’s a giant, king-sized bed in there, the colour scheme consisting of greys and blues making the space both stylish and restful. It’s neat, like Connor would expect, the bed made up, sheets tucked in, pillows arranged at the head of it. There are more collectables in here; model motorcycles arranged on a shelf, action figures from the 80’s displayed in a glass cabinet, a life-size cardboard cut-out of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the deadly-cool Terminator, a signed poster of MotoGP champion Valentino Rossi, a clock made out of an old vinyl record; all giving the room individuality and personality.

Finished prying for now, Connor enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and giving a low whistle at the lavish surroundings. This room is huge, tiled in black marble with gold trims like robe hooks and soap holders. There’s a double shower with a dark red curtain and more splashes of red in the thick towels rolled up and set in square pigeon-holes in the wall. There’s a gold heated towel rail and a triangular spa bath big enough for five people. As well as the toilet there’s a urinal set in the wall, the feature unusual, like it should belong in a fancy hotel or something. As Connor stands there peeing, he thinks that this room is so elegant and luxurious; he almost expects to see a guy in uniform come out holding a flannel for him to dry his hands on. But he doesn’t even need that as there’s an electric dryer right near the basin for hands-free operation.

“Totally awesome,” he mutters as he elbows the dryer into life, hot air blasting out and making his hair fly around like in one of those MTV music videos.

Hands dry, he gazes in the mirror, running his fingers through his messy mane, tucking it behind his ears, noting how his cheeks are still flushed and his lips are all puffy and wine-coloured, grinning childishly as he realises he looks like he’s just been laid. Which he pretty much has. Do fingers count? His slightly sore ass believes they do. Shaking his head, he exhales slowly, finding it hard to fathom what he just did on the lounge room floor, what he just let Sebastian do.

“Dude,” he says solemnly to himself. “You are so drunk.”

And then he laughs, stumbling back to Sebastian, eager to do more wild, dirty things with his gay friend. This is the first night in a long time he hasn’t spent it hunting. He may get more of Seb’s man-goo on him but it sure beats getting ashy vamp dust in his eyes or green demon mucous on his clothes.

Awaiting his return, Sebastian chuckles as he hears the kid nearly tripping over a sculpture of an eagle in the hallway, Connor cussing in irritation, not used to being this awkward.

“Nice bathroom,” the boy remarks as he makes it back to the living area safely. “In fact, nice house.”

Clasping his hands behind his head, Sebastian replies happily, “Yeah, it’s home.”

Flopping back down beside him on the shagpile carpet, Connor asks, “Don’t you ever get lonely, living all by yourself?”

“Not really. I like my own space. I had a roommate once but he kept eating all my food, scratching all my DVDs and leaving all his dirty clothes on the floor for me to wash so I threw his lazy ass out pronto. I wouldn’t live with anyone again.” Sebastian pauses and smiles at Connor. “Except for maybe you.”

At Connor’s surprised expression, he hurriedly adds, “Not that I’m pressuring you to move in with me or anything ‘cause I’m sure you like your own space too but hey, you can come over and stay whenever you want, kiddo. I’m serious. If your place gets like, trashed by demons or sinks into a fault line or something, I want you to know you got a bed here. Hell, you got a whole house if you need it. Just let me know, okay?”

“I will,” Connor replies, flattered by the offer. “Thank you.”

“Of course, it doesn’t have to be an emergency. You can always come over just for sex.”

At the quip, Connor smirks. “Already did.”


***


To be continued... Will there be more smut? Will Connor come out of the closet? Will a gross drain-demon slither out of the bathroom sink and try to lay eggs in Sebastian's brain?? Probably not the last one but find out about the other two in part five, coming...well, not soon... but as soon as I can. In the meantime, try to fill your Connor void by watching reruns of Angel while I work on the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading!