Different Solutions or What happens when Mitchell meets Fitzroy P2
Title: Different Solutions or What happens when Mitchell meets Fitzroy P2
Pairing: John Mitchell/Henry Fitzroy
Rating: R
Word count: 2523
Thank you loves_books for the beta :D
After Henry disappears into the bathroom, Mitchell sits there motionless, pondering the situation.
He always wanted to be human again, wanted to just skip the vampire side of himself, but since he learned he can’t do it forever, that the beast wants to get out at one point - just like George’s - it occurs to him that Henry’s method probably makes more sense. He already feels less tense than he has done for months. Maybe giving in to his dangerous nature now and then may be the solution for some of his other problems too.
When Henry emerges again with a towel slung low at his waist, Mitchell is brave enough to say, “I kill my partners when I have sex. I only managed twice not to do it.” He swallows, a chill gripping him when he thinks of Lucy, of her bitter betrayal and how he still felt such terror when she was killed.
Henry tosses the shredded duvet on the floor and rests back against the headboard, thinking about the new information, rubbing his hair dry with another towel, “You were in love with those two?”
After a brief moment Mitchell nods slowly.
“And the others?”
Mitchell shakes his head, “A man has his needs…”
Henry smiles sadly at that and at his many unfulfilled moments from the recent past with Vicky, or Mike for that matter, and pats the mattress beside him, nodding. “I thought we’d head outside first but we can start the lesson in here just as well.”
When Mitchell doesn’t reply, only sitting himself cross-legged on the bed, Henry asks hesitantly, “You only want to learn about the feeding or the sex too?”
Mitchell studies his knuckles, somewhat embarrassed. “There seems to be no difference, first comes the hunger,” He swallows, “and once I’ve started drinking…I…”
“Okay, I know what you mean. Relax.” Henry looks at him with true understanding. “You’ve done it with a man before, I assume?”
At that Mitchell’s features are suddenly graced with a playful grin and he pounces on Henry, both of them laughing, taking the seriousness out of the situation, “In a hundred years?” Mitchell cups Henry’s balls firmly through the towel, “Don’t even imagine I’d be your virgin, Fitzroy…”
They stare at each other, “So what’s your plan,Your Majesty?” Mitchell rubs his naked, filthy body slowly against the clean, nicely smelling one beneath him, “Want me to imagine you’re human?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Henry grabs Mitchell’s head all of a sudden and kisses him very deeply.
When they part, Mitchell’s fangs have appeared and his completely black eyes are wild and crazy, “There’s the thing though…” he’s still able to think and speak clearly, “I’m not in love with you…”
“I know that,” Henry presses his lower body into Mitchell’s, meeting an equally growing erection, “Neither am I with you, serves our purpose right, doesn’t it?” The older vampire feels his own blood thirst rise, “Let’s have some fun then.”
Mitchell moves forward to nuzzle Henry’s neck but the other vampire grips his biceps and holds him still. “Ohhh wait, I know what you’re really after.”
“Hm?” Mitchell is already dazed from the opportunity to drink more blood.
“You want to know what will happen if you make love to your ghost friend.”
Mitchell looks a bit shocked that Henry can read him so easily but then he nods, “I don’t really fully feel her touch though and there’s something else...” Mitchell draws back, the seriousness of the situation suddenly fully gripping him again, “I don’t know if I should tell her about what I did.”
The horror of all the dead bodies in that train comes back to him; the deep need for punishment, the feeling of being so helpless about what he and Daisy did, the extraordinary disappointment he still feels about the human race on one hand, but on the other hand his love for the good humans he has gotten to know over the hundred years he has lived.
Henry senses his mood change and sits up, his expression thoughtful. “Okay, let’s talk this over a bit more.”
“Can I have a smoke?” Mitchell asks hesitantly, aware that Henry might not wish that in his expensive apartment.
Henry reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and tosses Mitchell a package of cigarettes and matches, waiting until the younger man has taken a few pulls.
“I know you feel like a beast, a murderer,” the Canadian whispers, reaching for a pen and paper which lie beside the bed, starting to scribble something. “I used to feel like that too.”
Mitchell studies the other vampire, a chill creeping up his spine. “How do I get rid of it? How do I get rid of the guilt? Even though sometimes I think we did the right thing since they’d murdered thirty of us as well, thirty vampires who had sworn not to drink blood anymore…” he trails off, tears running down his cheeks unnoticed.
“You can’t get rid of it. You need to learn how to live with it and never do it again.” Henry swallows several times, his pen never stopping as it scratches on the paper. “There’ll always be injustice but there’ll also always be love on both sides; vampires and humans…”
Mitchell sits for a while and contemplates the other’s words. Of course he knows that, but hearing it from someone else makes it a lot clearer to him. He slowly edges towards the other man, peering upside down onto his drawings.
There are a coule he seems to work on at the same time, thumbing back and forth between them. One is an unfinished battle field with lots of dead soldiers from different epochs. The other is a beautiful, smiling woman with long hair and glasses.
Mitchell looks closer onto the nightstand. There are two more unfinished drawings, one showing an elderly lady with grey hair together with a very young woman with pig tails and a lot of make up. On the last sheet of paper Henry had drawn a man with slightly curly hair, a determined but sad expression on his face.
Mitchell reaches for them to study them closely. “That’s how you cope?”
Henry nods. “Yes, always has been.”
“It’s stunning.” Mitchell is distracted for a few moments from his confusing thoughts, admiring the beauty of the other’s talent. “I can’t draw though.”
“Maybe you should try.” Henry looks at Mitchell from under his fringe. “Soothes the nerves.”
Mitchell laughs softly, “No thanks.”
After a few more moments of Mitchell smoking and Henry scribbling, the Canadian says, “You don’t have to tell her. No one will find out. You know there is a system in place so that you won’t get arrested.” He pauses, “She knows you’re a vampire, knows that you must have killed in the past…”
“She is so innocent,” Mitchell muses then turns to Henry, changing the subject. “What’s with your woman then?”
Henry looks up at him in surprise, then shakes his head and sighs, “She’s anything but innocent…” He considers his next words then decides to confide in Mitchell, “Private Detective Victoria Nelson.” He taps on the drawing of the woman with the glasses.
When Mitchell inclines his head curiously, he continues, “We worked together for a year after she found out that creatures like us really exist…” His pen moves faster, creating yet more dead bodies on the battle field paper.
“She chose her former partner though…” He reaches over and holds out the sheet of paper with the picture of the man with the sad expression. “Stubborn, interesting police officer…ex officer…” He trails off, putting the drawings aside, licking his lips, staring forlornly into space.
“So that’s why you’re over here.” Mitchell stands and walks into the kitchen, putting the remains of his cigarette into the trash.
“That.” Henry suddenly stands very close, “and the challenge to get you onto the right track.” His eyes are pure black for a second but change back just as fast, “Vicky told me I have at least forty more lives to live so I thought I’d start with a new one on a different continent.”
Mitchell finds himself on the bed within the blink of an eye, Henry beneath him, “So come on, boy, enough talk about me, let’s start with your lesson.” His hands travel down Mitchell’s smooth back onto his ass, pressing their groins together, “Show me your beautiful teeth and drink, try to stop if you can.” Henry’s voice is rough and utterly seductive.
Mitchell finds his blood thirst rise again and those cool hands on his arse are very stimulating. He starts to move against the man beneath him, slowly letting his vampire self come to the surface. He’s scared to be aware of it like this but also grateful for the opportunity to show it with no regret.
“Bite me, John,” the other whispers, craning his neck.
‘Okay, let’s try this,’ Mitchell thinks, his focus on the throat of the other vampire, everything else fading.
And when Henry moves beneath him, curling himself into a ball, making their bodies fit for a really good shag, Mitchell, of course, can not stop.
+++++++++
‘Well, that was a major fuck up,’ he thinks when he feels like himself again. Henry is nowhere to be seen but a drawing lies on the bed. Mitchell takes it and recognizes himself, vampire teeth and eyes, blood dripping from his chin. When he’s about to rip it apart, a determined, “No,” stops him.
“This is a reminder of what you really are. You need to see it, need to accept it. You are not human and neither am I as much as I wish to be.” He hands Mitchell a mug. The smell of expensive coffee soothes Mitchell’s highly strung nerves.
“I’m sorry I fucked up too.” Henry sips from his own mug, “It felt too good to stop…” he says under his breath and if he was human he’d be blushing, “I haven’t had…” he trails off.
After a few sips of hot liquid Mitchell starts to chuckle, looking fully at his supposed-to-be teacher and his bloody, dirty state. “I guess we need a few more tries,” he sighs, emptying the cup. “You’re an incredibly good fuck,” and with that he disappears into the bathroom.
“So are you.” Henry joins him beneath the hot water and captures his mouth forcefully with his own.
++++++
On the fifth night Mitchell actually manages to stop drinking after four huge gulps. Henry hasn’t even changed into his vampire self yet. He smiles openly at Mitchell, pinned against his apartment door. “Congratulations,” he says passively, hands pressed against the wood in order to not draw the other vampire closer. One could get used to this again, he thinks, almost ashamed.
Mitchell takes three large steps backwards, panting,wiping the back of his hand across his bloody mouth. “Fuck, it’s hard to stop.”
“It will get easier,” Henry says with an odd tremor in his voice.
Mitchell’s eyes are drawn to the blood stain on Henry’s white shirt. “It’s still addictive.” He groans, turning and walking to the big armchair, letting himself fall into it. “Tell me you’re not leaving anytime soon?”
Henry laughs softly, deliberately staying far away from the other man, rummaging in his large closet for something else to wear.
When he comes back into the living area, Mitchell is chewing on the pizza they bought, long legs spread wide. “Tastes like nothing…” he starts, then almost chokes on a large bite when he sees Henry in a burgundy silk shirt. He will not admit that a man can be that handsome, that breathtakingly beautiful.
“You said you have work to do. I’d better go...” Mitchell throws the remains of the pizza into the cardboard and stands.
“No, stay…” Henry fixes the other vampire with a strange look, “You’re…” he turns towards his empty canvas so Mitchell almost doesn’t hear the muttered, “my new muse…”
Mitchell’s stomach flutters oddly at that so he flops down on the sofa, kicking off his shoes and crossing his arms behind his head. “Does that mean you’re gonna draw me again?”
“No, just…well, I’m not sure yet, just stay there…like that…” Henry goes for his oil colours and the brushes this time. “Tell me about Annie,” he asks softly as he starts with a few scattered black dots and stripes here and there.
“Annie? Now?” Mitchell sounds irritated.
It makes Henry laugh, “Yes. Your ghost. I assume you’ve experimented a bit too…”
“Um…”
Henry’s suddenly at the armrest of the sofa, staring at Mitchell upside down, their noses almost touching, “Do not abandon her because of me. You hear me?” The sharp tone and piercing eyes startle Mitchell out of his mellow state.
“Vampires are not exclusive. I think you know that.” Henry wants to turn away again but this time Mitchell is able to use some speed too and grabs him by the arms to hold him in place, kissing him brutally without warning from that strange position. He won’t allow Henry to pull away.
After a few moments of a harsh battle of their tongues, Mitchell stops it. “This, Fitzroy,” he playfully pulls at Henry’s hair and the other lets him, smirking, “is about strength and power and…well, being a vampire.” Mitchell lets his vampire self come to the surface, loving the fact that he actually can control it in such a way and not feeling any pressure or guilt. He never could do that with Herrick because it always meant they were about to kill someone.
“Annie,” Mitchell changes to his normal self again, “is about…”
He’s searching for words when Henry helps him out - “Being human?”
They let go of each other, not realising that Henry had grabbed Mitchell by the hair as well.
“Yeah.” Mitchell sits up as Henry returns to his canvas, “Even though she’s a ghost…”
Henry simply nods and starts to paint. The strange tension is gone.
After a few moments of silence Mitchell says very softly, “Annie is about making love too…”
Henry says nothing, his brush slowly sliding over the canvas.
“She’s so vulnerable and needs to be taken care of… needs to be held, gently kissed…” Mitchell thinks for a moment, smiling, remembering what they’d done the other day while Henry was dead to the world, “…everywhere…”
Henry smirks at that but again says nothing.
“I think she never had a lover who really wanted to pleasure her…she is so full of wonder about it and what her body can feel…” Mitchell’s glance goes out into the night, knowing she’s walking the streets of the city right now.
“You didn’t want to bite her?” Henry’s voice reaches him like its coming through a heavy fog.
“No. Not once. I even felt her hands on me. She was so careful, so considerate…so… loving…” Mitchell swallows and finally looks up at Henry who meets his gaze and turns the painting towards Mitchell.
It shows Mitchell and Annie, gently kissing, holding hands, and behind them a beautiful sunset.
Mitchell gasps, “Fuck, Fitzroy, you’re a true Master.”
part 3 http://delorita.livejournal.com/207913.html
Pairing: John Mitchell/Henry Fitzroy
Rating: R
Word count: 2523
Thank you loves_books for the beta :D
After Henry disappears into the bathroom, Mitchell sits there motionless, pondering the situation.
He always wanted to be human again, wanted to just skip the vampire side of himself, but since he learned he can’t do it forever, that the beast wants to get out at one point - just like George’s - it occurs to him that Henry’s method probably makes more sense. He already feels less tense than he has done for months. Maybe giving in to his dangerous nature now and then may be the solution for some of his other problems too.
When Henry emerges again with a towel slung low at his waist, Mitchell is brave enough to say, “I kill my partners when I have sex. I only managed twice not to do it.” He swallows, a chill gripping him when he thinks of Lucy, of her bitter betrayal and how he still felt such terror when she was killed.
Henry tosses the shredded duvet on the floor and rests back against the headboard, thinking about the new information, rubbing his hair dry with another towel, “You were in love with those two?”
After a brief moment Mitchell nods slowly.
“And the others?”
Mitchell shakes his head, “A man has his needs…”
Henry smiles sadly at that and at his many unfulfilled moments from the recent past with Vicky, or Mike for that matter, and pats the mattress beside him, nodding. “I thought we’d head outside first but we can start the lesson in here just as well.”
When Mitchell doesn’t reply, only sitting himself cross-legged on the bed, Henry asks hesitantly, “You only want to learn about the feeding or the sex too?”
Mitchell studies his knuckles, somewhat embarrassed. “There seems to be no difference, first comes the hunger,” He swallows, “and once I’ve started drinking…I…”
“Okay, I know what you mean. Relax.” Henry looks at him with true understanding. “You’ve done it with a man before, I assume?”
At that Mitchell’s features are suddenly graced with a playful grin and he pounces on Henry, both of them laughing, taking the seriousness out of the situation, “In a hundred years?” Mitchell cups Henry’s balls firmly through the towel, “Don’t even imagine I’d be your virgin, Fitzroy…”
They stare at each other, “So what’s your plan,Your Majesty?” Mitchell rubs his naked, filthy body slowly against the clean, nicely smelling one beneath him, “Want me to imagine you’re human?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Henry grabs Mitchell’s head all of a sudden and kisses him very deeply.
When they part, Mitchell’s fangs have appeared and his completely black eyes are wild and crazy, “There’s the thing though…” he’s still able to think and speak clearly, “I’m not in love with you…”
“I know that,” Henry presses his lower body into Mitchell’s, meeting an equally growing erection, “Neither am I with you, serves our purpose right, doesn’t it?” The older vampire feels his own blood thirst rise, “Let’s have some fun then.”
Mitchell moves forward to nuzzle Henry’s neck but the other vampire grips his biceps and holds him still. “Ohhh wait, I know what you’re really after.”
“Hm?” Mitchell is already dazed from the opportunity to drink more blood.
“You want to know what will happen if you make love to your ghost friend.”
Mitchell looks a bit shocked that Henry can read him so easily but then he nods, “I don’t really fully feel her touch though and there’s something else...” Mitchell draws back, the seriousness of the situation suddenly fully gripping him again, “I don’t know if I should tell her about what I did.”
The horror of all the dead bodies in that train comes back to him; the deep need for punishment, the feeling of being so helpless about what he and Daisy did, the extraordinary disappointment he still feels about the human race on one hand, but on the other hand his love for the good humans he has gotten to know over the hundred years he has lived.
Henry senses his mood change and sits up, his expression thoughtful. “Okay, let’s talk this over a bit more.”
“Can I have a smoke?” Mitchell asks hesitantly, aware that Henry might not wish that in his expensive apartment.
Henry reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and tosses Mitchell a package of cigarettes and matches, waiting until the younger man has taken a few pulls.
“I know you feel like a beast, a murderer,” the Canadian whispers, reaching for a pen and paper which lie beside the bed, starting to scribble something. “I used to feel like that too.”
Mitchell studies the other vampire, a chill creeping up his spine. “How do I get rid of it? How do I get rid of the guilt? Even though sometimes I think we did the right thing since they’d murdered thirty of us as well, thirty vampires who had sworn not to drink blood anymore…” he trails off, tears running down his cheeks unnoticed.
“You can’t get rid of it. You need to learn how to live with it and never do it again.” Henry swallows several times, his pen never stopping as it scratches on the paper. “There’ll always be injustice but there’ll also always be love on both sides; vampires and humans…”
Mitchell sits for a while and contemplates the other’s words. Of course he knows that, but hearing it from someone else makes it a lot clearer to him. He slowly edges towards the other man, peering upside down onto his drawings.
There are a coule he seems to work on at the same time, thumbing back and forth between them. One is an unfinished battle field with lots of dead soldiers from different epochs. The other is a beautiful, smiling woman with long hair and glasses.
Mitchell looks closer onto the nightstand. There are two more unfinished drawings, one showing an elderly lady with grey hair together with a very young woman with pig tails and a lot of make up. On the last sheet of paper Henry had drawn a man with slightly curly hair, a determined but sad expression on his face.
Mitchell reaches for them to study them closely. “That’s how you cope?”
Henry nods. “Yes, always has been.”
“It’s stunning.” Mitchell is distracted for a few moments from his confusing thoughts, admiring the beauty of the other’s talent. “I can’t draw though.”
“Maybe you should try.” Henry looks at Mitchell from under his fringe. “Soothes the nerves.”
Mitchell laughs softly, “No thanks.”
After a few more moments of Mitchell smoking and Henry scribbling, the Canadian says, “You don’t have to tell her. No one will find out. You know there is a system in place so that you won’t get arrested.” He pauses, “She knows you’re a vampire, knows that you must have killed in the past…”
“She is so innocent,” Mitchell muses then turns to Henry, changing the subject. “What’s with your woman then?”
Henry looks up at him in surprise, then shakes his head and sighs, “She’s anything but innocent…” He considers his next words then decides to confide in Mitchell, “Private Detective Victoria Nelson.” He taps on the drawing of the woman with the glasses.
When Mitchell inclines his head curiously, he continues, “We worked together for a year after she found out that creatures like us really exist…” His pen moves faster, creating yet more dead bodies on the battle field paper.
“She chose her former partner though…” He reaches over and holds out the sheet of paper with the picture of the man with the sad expression. “Stubborn, interesting police officer…ex officer…” He trails off, putting the drawings aside, licking his lips, staring forlornly into space.
“So that’s why you’re over here.” Mitchell stands and walks into the kitchen, putting the remains of his cigarette into the trash.
“That.” Henry suddenly stands very close, “and the challenge to get you onto the right track.” His eyes are pure black for a second but change back just as fast, “Vicky told me I have at least forty more lives to live so I thought I’d start with a new one on a different continent.”
Mitchell finds himself on the bed within the blink of an eye, Henry beneath him, “So come on, boy, enough talk about me, let’s start with your lesson.” His hands travel down Mitchell’s smooth back onto his ass, pressing their groins together, “Show me your beautiful teeth and drink, try to stop if you can.” Henry’s voice is rough and utterly seductive.
Mitchell finds his blood thirst rise again and those cool hands on his arse are very stimulating. He starts to move against the man beneath him, slowly letting his vampire self come to the surface. He’s scared to be aware of it like this but also grateful for the opportunity to show it with no regret.
“Bite me, John,” the other whispers, craning his neck.
‘Okay, let’s try this,’ Mitchell thinks, his focus on the throat of the other vampire, everything else fading.
And when Henry moves beneath him, curling himself into a ball, making their bodies fit for a really good shag, Mitchell, of course, can not stop.
+++++++++
‘Well, that was a major fuck up,’ he thinks when he feels like himself again. Henry is nowhere to be seen but a drawing lies on the bed. Mitchell takes it and recognizes himself, vampire teeth and eyes, blood dripping from his chin. When he’s about to rip it apart, a determined, “No,” stops him.
“This is a reminder of what you really are. You need to see it, need to accept it. You are not human and neither am I as much as I wish to be.” He hands Mitchell a mug. The smell of expensive coffee soothes Mitchell’s highly strung nerves.
“I’m sorry I fucked up too.” Henry sips from his own mug, “It felt too good to stop…” he says under his breath and if he was human he’d be blushing, “I haven’t had…” he trails off.
After a few sips of hot liquid Mitchell starts to chuckle, looking fully at his supposed-to-be teacher and his bloody, dirty state. “I guess we need a few more tries,” he sighs, emptying the cup. “You’re an incredibly good fuck,” and with that he disappears into the bathroom.
“So are you.” Henry joins him beneath the hot water and captures his mouth forcefully with his own.
++++++
On the fifth night Mitchell actually manages to stop drinking after four huge gulps. Henry hasn’t even changed into his vampire self yet. He smiles openly at Mitchell, pinned against his apartment door. “Congratulations,” he says passively, hands pressed against the wood in order to not draw the other vampire closer. One could get used to this again, he thinks, almost ashamed.
Mitchell takes three large steps backwards, panting,wiping the back of his hand across his bloody mouth. “Fuck, it’s hard to stop.”
“It will get easier,” Henry says with an odd tremor in his voice.
Mitchell’s eyes are drawn to the blood stain on Henry’s white shirt. “It’s still addictive.” He groans, turning and walking to the big armchair, letting himself fall into it. “Tell me you’re not leaving anytime soon?”
Henry laughs softly, deliberately staying far away from the other man, rummaging in his large closet for something else to wear.
When he comes back into the living area, Mitchell is chewing on the pizza they bought, long legs spread wide. “Tastes like nothing…” he starts, then almost chokes on a large bite when he sees Henry in a burgundy silk shirt. He will not admit that a man can be that handsome, that breathtakingly beautiful.
“You said you have work to do. I’d better go...” Mitchell throws the remains of the pizza into the cardboard and stands.
“No, stay…” Henry fixes the other vampire with a strange look, “You’re…” he turns towards his empty canvas so Mitchell almost doesn’t hear the muttered, “my new muse…”
Mitchell’s stomach flutters oddly at that so he flops down on the sofa, kicking off his shoes and crossing his arms behind his head. “Does that mean you’re gonna draw me again?”
“No, just…well, I’m not sure yet, just stay there…like that…” Henry goes for his oil colours and the brushes this time. “Tell me about Annie,” he asks softly as he starts with a few scattered black dots and stripes here and there.
“Annie? Now?” Mitchell sounds irritated.
It makes Henry laugh, “Yes. Your ghost. I assume you’ve experimented a bit too…”
“Um…”
Henry’s suddenly at the armrest of the sofa, staring at Mitchell upside down, their noses almost touching, “Do not abandon her because of me. You hear me?” The sharp tone and piercing eyes startle Mitchell out of his mellow state.
“Vampires are not exclusive. I think you know that.” Henry wants to turn away again but this time Mitchell is able to use some speed too and grabs him by the arms to hold him in place, kissing him brutally without warning from that strange position. He won’t allow Henry to pull away.
After a few moments of a harsh battle of their tongues, Mitchell stops it. “This, Fitzroy,” he playfully pulls at Henry’s hair and the other lets him, smirking, “is about strength and power and…well, being a vampire.” Mitchell lets his vampire self come to the surface, loving the fact that he actually can control it in such a way and not feeling any pressure or guilt. He never could do that with Herrick because it always meant they were about to kill someone.
“Annie,” Mitchell changes to his normal self again, “is about…”
He’s searching for words when Henry helps him out - “Being human?”
They let go of each other, not realising that Henry had grabbed Mitchell by the hair as well.
“Yeah.” Mitchell sits up as Henry returns to his canvas, “Even though she’s a ghost…”
Henry simply nods and starts to paint. The strange tension is gone.
After a few moments of silence Mitchell says very softly, “Annie is about making love too…”
Henry says nothing, his brush slowly sliding over the canvas.
“She’s so vulnerable and needs to be taken care of… needs to be held, gently kissed…” Mitchell thinks for a moment, smiling, remembering what they’d done the other day while Henry was dead to the world, “…everywhere…”
Henry smirks at that but again says nothing.
“I think she never had a lover who really wanted to pleasure her…she is so full of wonder about it and what her body can feel…” Mitchell’s glance goes out into the night, knowing she’s walking the streets of the city right now.
“You didn’t want to bite her?” Henry’s voice reaches him like its coming through a heavy fog.
“No. Not once. I even felt her hands on me. She was so careful, so considerate…so… loving…” Mitchell swallows and finally looks up at Henry who meets his gaze and turns the painting towards Mitchell.
It shows Mitchell and Annie, gently kissing, holding hands, and behind them a beautiful sunset.
Mitchell gasps, “Fuck, Fitzroy, you’re a true Master.”
part 3 http://delorita.livejournal.com/207913.html