Chapter 30--Drows'd With the Fume of Poppies
Venturing back into NC-17 territory. Back away kiddies.
Drows’d With the Fume of Poppies
Wherein Xander discovers a fallen cherub, bound by chains of despair and dark designs.
His jealousy made him flee blindly, as if by running he could outdistance the devils of his vivid imagination. He was sick with anger and sick with the horrid vision of what he knew now to be true-he had been nothing but a convenient to Asheton, a stupid plaything, too ignorant to realize its own uselessness. Asheton had returned with a bride as well as a lover-what need had he of a cast-off mayfly.
He rode Smoke until her legs were a-tremble, through the woods startling a covey of quail, and then tearing through the dry meadows as though a fiend was chasing him-and maybe it is...
When she stumbled and slid halfway down a ditch, he finally came to himself and began a slow ride back to the house. The shadows had lengthened considerably as the sun neared the horizon-less than an hour remained of the winter’s day.
“Sorry, old girl, “ he patted Smoke’s sweating withers, “I’m a damned fool, aren’t I.”
I shall leave as soon as possible for London. Not another night will I spend in this damned house, he thought, let him have his bride and his heir and welcome to them both. I won’t stay here. I’m not going to be his clown or his slut. It’s not like he’d even notice if I were gone-he’s shut himself away with her, no doubt, honeymooning and with that devil Angelus...he must be with him.
He stabled Smoke himself, wiping her down with a wisp of straw, and giving her an extra portion of oats in apology for his reckless cruelty. The stable boys were long gone, even Snyder deserting his post for the safety of his own bolthole. Clever them, he thought, I need to do the same. In the morning at first light, I’ll be on the road.
He had hoped to remain invisible for as long as possible, by skirting the main rooms, and slipping up the backstairs toward his rooms as he had throughout the long week. His luck couldn’t hold though, and so as he fled toward the refuge of his chamber, he ran full force into Webster.
“My lord Asheton requires that you bring him his evening restorative.”
“But…”
Webster pushed the silver tray into his hands and swanned away down the corridor with a casual wave of his hand, “Quickly then, Harris. Milord doesn’t care for his drink to be chilled.”
His hands trembled as he pushed opened the door carefully. He hadn’t been in Asheton’s rooms since the return of the vampires. The sitting room had changed from a purely masculine abode to something out of a caliph’s palace. The glitter of candles shone through dozens of ruby glass lamps, illuminating the thick rugs covering the floor, and masking his footsteps as he trod near a low-slung divan. Numerous velvet cushions lay in disordered piles around the sofa, their silken embroidery echoing the writhing dragons of the scarlet bed hangings. A Spanish guitarra leaned against the sofa’s end and shoals of paper littered the floor along with broken quills and a dark spill of ink from an overturned inkwell. Suffocating incense drifted from a many-armed deity glaring from atop a golden pilaster and the fireplace roared behind a gilded screen, heating the room to a tropical degree. The sinister light shone on Asheton, his skin radiant with a disconcerting flush where he sprawled on the couch.
“My dear boy, you come to me at last!” his voice was languorous, soft, and almost purring with desire. “Come. Sit with me a while.” His long fingers stroked a beckoning path down the smooth planes of his own chest, bare inside the open dressing gown.
William’s blue eyes were half-lidded with sensual promise, his lips full and luxurious, begging to be kissed. Near to hand was a small brazier, perfuming the air with a gauzy cloud of smoke, its spirituous flame first shining yellow, and then shifting to a poisonous violet. He dipped the metal bowl of a slender lacquered pipe into the flame then inhaled deeply, his head drooping lower and lower as though the effort of staying upright was beyond him.
“My lord, I have brought you your restorative drink.” Xander clenched his fingers on the metal edge of the tray until they whitened. He hated the sound of his own voice; rough with anger and an edge of desperation making it ring in the unnatural stillness of the room. He would not beg, he told himself, I’ll not be his…his convenience, but the rapid beat of his heart betrayed him. The covered pot and mug clattered together like dry bones.
William raised his head and drew on the pipe again, the strange light flaring, giving his shadowed eyes a horrid glitter. “I’m not hungry for that.”
Xander’s mind raced with the information he’d gained today, jealousy and anger warring with the desire to be in the arms of his lover once again. A picture of William, wanton curls damp with passion and entangled within the embrace of that foul beast, Angelus, overpowered him.
His temper flared and he retreated a step backward, nearly tripping over the piles of clutter on the floor. He straightened himself and stuck out his chin crossly, “Suit yourself, then.”
Asheton reclined again into the mound of downy cushions; the long pipe in his left hand and a curl of musky, sweet smoke circling his head.
“I can hear your heart fluttering, a tiny sparrow within your breast.”
“How can you allow it,” he began, his temper rising along with his desire, “Your people are terrorized, the house is become a shambles! Do you have a care for nothing or no one besides yourself, my Lord Asheton?” Asheton said nothing, only his eyes moved---once to examine Xander’s face, then away to fix on the smoke rising from his pipe.
Xander took another breath and continued, his voice cracking, “I cannot stay here any longer! This damnable place stinks of death and damnation!”
Xander sat the tray on a spindly-legged table near to hand and straightened to leave, but his hand was caught in a steel grip. “No, don’t leave me, my dear viper…you’ve wounded me with your sharp tongue.”
His eyes were huge, the pale blue nearly swallowed by the black iris, “I daresay you think my behavior abominable.” He paused and the hot look in his eyes caused Xander’s pulse to pound. “I can conceive of nothing more tedious than an argument just now. Why do you not lie here a moment…just you and I…as it should be.” Xander swallowed hard and allowed himself to be pulled onto the cushions beside the divan, his body alive and trembling. “My darling boy…come closer…just a taste.”
Asheton’s lips met his and he felt a stream of perfumed smoke invade his lungs. His throat was parched with the smoky fumes and he was nauseous from the heated atmosphere. His limbs felt weighted down, and yet unbearably light, as though he might float away into the heavens. The smoke clung to his lips, invading his mind and filling it with strange, fantastic images.
“Just you and I…” he repeated. He seemed to hear his voice from a huge, echoing distance. His legs were weak, numb from his long ride, but his body’s response was immediate. His breathing came fast and he leaned into William, his cock pressing hard against the seam of his trousers, craving its release. He let his hands wander inside the open dressing gown, memorizing the smooth planes of muscle and the velvet skin of his lover, seeking the crisp curls surrounding his hard manhood and grasping its curve in his palm.
“The dragon, my honey, the dragon has you now.” Asheton pulled again at the pipe he held over a tiny brazier and blew the silvery smoke deep into Xander’s lungs, “We shall ride him together, you and I.”
The soothing words overpowered him and he sank into William’s embrace, breathing deeply of the smoke and the delicious fragrance of his beloved.
“Why…why did you desert me? I’ve needed you so.” He begged, his heartbeat thunderous to his ears. He was without shame, desperate for William, desiring only him, yearning for a return to those brief, beautiful moments when they were together.
The scarlet glow of the room faded to jetty darkness, save a pair of lambent blue eyes. William’s lips pressed to his and another hot draught of smoke smothered him. He sucked in the smoke greedily as a child and shoved William into the nest of cushions, every part of him hungry for more. He grasped Will’s head in both hands, plundering his mouth and sucking at the plump, cool lips. Xander dragged the silken robe off William’s shoulders, leaving him bare to the waist. His lips followed, tracing a hot line of kisses along the white flesh of his throat. William sighed and stretched his arms over his head, his hips arching upward as Xander’s hands set his skin afire with longing.
“Do you feel it? How very much I want you, dear boy?”
Xander felt tears sting his eyes, “So long…you’ve been gone and then…” He felt the prick of sharp teeth at his throat and hard hands at his waist, and his protest became a moan of desire.
He became only need and want, surrendering his body and his blood, awash in passion. He knelt on the floor buoyed up by the silken cushions, naked and panting. His back arched with pleasure and he thrust his hips high as William‘s well-oiled length slid excruciatingly slow into him, the lazy strokes driving him mad.
Time flowed so slowly, like honey in winter, and he found himself on his back while William stooped over him, first pressing hard kisses to his chest then sipping delicately from the tiny wound on his throat while his clever fingers stroked and pulled. Languorous hours or perhaps minutes later, Xander felt as though he might expire from the sheer pleasure.
Near dawn and Xander’s legs trembled in exhaustion, but he refused to admit his feeble mortal body was defeated. “Please, Will-don’t leave me again!”
“Trust…” the word hissed into his ear as he panted breathless beneath his lover, “Trust me.” So low, he was uncertain what he heard. William’s body pressed against him, fierce and urgent, spreading him wider as the strokes surged relentlessly.
His wits fled, frantic from the pleasure and he gasped out again, “Will!”
It was as though his world had narrowed to a single thought and he was riding the crest of a gigantic wave…then crashing…hard, faster into the darkness. Previous chapters may be found here: spander
Drows’d With the Fume of Poppies
Wherein Xander discovers a fallen cherub, bound by chains of despair and dark designs.
His jealousy made him flee blindly, as if by running he could outdistance the devils of his vivid imagination. He was sick with anger and sick with the horrid vision of what he knew now to be true-he had been nothing but a convenient to Asheton, a stupid plaything, too ignorant to realize its own uselessness. Asheton had returned with a bride as well as a lover-what need had he of a cast-off mayfly.
He rode Smoke until her legs were a-tremble, through the woods startling a covey of quail, and then tearing through the dry meadows as though a fiend was chasing him-and maybe it is...
When she stumbled and slid halfway down a ditch, he finally came to himself and began a slow ride back to the house. The shadows had lengthened considerably as the sun neared the horizon-less than an hour remained of the winter’s day.
“Sorry, old girl, “ he patted Smoke’s sweating withers, “I’m a damned fool, aren’t I.”
I shall leave as soon as possible for London. Not another night will I spend in this damned house, he thought, let him have his bride and his heir and welcome to them both. I won’t stay here. I’m not going to be his clown or his slut. It’s not like he’d even notice if I were gone-he’s shut himself away with her, no doubt, honeymooning and with that devil Angelus...he must be with him.
He stabled Smoke himself, wiping her down with a wisp of straw, and giving her an extra portion of oats in apology for his reckless cruelty. The stable boys were long gone, even Snyder deserting his post for the safety of his own bolthole. Clever them, he thought, I need to do the same. In the morning at first light, I’ll be on the road.
He had hoped to remain invisible for as long as possible, by skirting the main rooms, and slipping up the backstairs toward his rooms as he had throughout the long week. His luck couldn’t hold though, and so as he fled toward the refuge of his chamber, he ran full force into Webster.
“My lord Asheton requires that you bring him his evening restorative.”
“But…”
Webster pushed the silver tray into his hands and swanned away down the corridor with a casual wave of his hand, “Quickly then, Harris. Milord doesn’t care for his drink to be chilled.”
His hands trembled as he pushed opened the door carefully. He hadn’t been in Asheton’s rooms since the return of the vampires. The sitting room had changed from a purely masculine abode to something out of a caliph’s palace. The glitter of candles shone through dozens of ruby glass lamps, illuminating the thick rugs covering the floor, and masking his footsteps as he trod near a low-slung divan. Numerous velvet cushions lay in disordered piles around the sofa, their silken embroidery echoing the writhing dragons of the scarlet bed hangings. A Spanish guitarra leaned against the sofa’s end and shoals of paper littered the floor along with broken quills and a dark spill of ink from an overturned inkwell. Suffocating incense drifted from a many-armed deity glaring from atop a golden pilaster and the fireplace roared behind a gilded screen, heating the room to a tropical degree. The sinister light shone on Asheton, his skin radiant with a disconcerting flush where he sprawled on the couch.
“My dear boy, you come to me at last!” his voice was languorous, soft, and almost purring with desire. “Come. Sit with me a while.” His long fingers stroked a beckoning path down the smooth planes of his own chest, bare inside the open dressing gown.
William’s blue eyes were half-lidded with sensual promise, his lips full and luxurious, begging to be kissed. Near to hand was a small brazier, perfuming the air with a gauzy cloud of smoke, its spirituous flame first shining yellow, and then shifting to a poisonous violet. He dipped the metal bowl of a slender lacquered pipe into the flame then inhaled deeply, his head drooping lower and lower as though the effort of staying upright was beyond him.
“My lord, I have brought you your restorative drink.” Xander clenched his fingers on the metal edge of the tray until they whitened. He hated the sound of his own voice; rough with anger and an edge of desperation making it ring in the unnatural stillness of the room. He would not beg, he told himself, I’ll not be his…his convenience, but the rapid beat of his heart betrayed him. The covered pot and mug clattered together like dry bones.
William raised his head and drew on the pipe again, the strange light flaring, giving his shadowed eyes a horrid glitter. “I’m not hungry for that.”
Xander’s mind raced with the information he’d gained today, jealousy and anger warring with the desire to be in the arms of his lover once again. A picture of William, wanton curls damp with passion and entangled within the embrace of that foul beast, Angelus, overpowered him.
His temper flared and he retreated a step backward, nearly tripping over the piles of clutter on the floor. He straightened himself and stuck out his chin crossly, “Suit yourself, then.”
Asheton reclined again into the mound of downy cushions; the long pipe in his left hand and a curl of musky, sweet smoke circling his head.
“I can hear your heart fluttering, a tiny sparrow within your breast.”
“How can you allow it,” he began, his temper rising along with his desire, “Your people are terrorized, the house is become a shambles! Do you have a care for nothing or no one besides yourself, my Lord Asheton?” Asheton said nothing, only his eyes moved---once to examine Xander’s face, then away to fix on the smoke rising from his pipe.
Xander took another breath and continued, his voice cracking, “I cannot stay here any longer! This damnable place stinks of death and damnation!”
Xander sat the tray on a spindly-legged table near to hand and straightened to leave, but his hand was caught in a steel grip. “No, don’t leave me, my dear viper…you’ve wounded me with your sharp tongue.”
His eyes were huge, the pale blue nearly swallowed by the black iris, “I daresay you think my behavior abominable.” He paused and the hot look in his eyes caused Xander’s pulse to pound. “I can conceive of nothing more tedious than an argument just now. Why do you not lie here a moment…just you and I…as it should be.” Xander swallowed hard and allowed himself to be pulled onto the cushions beside the divan, his body alive and trembling. “My darling boy…come closer…just a taste.”
Asheton’s lips met his and he felt a stream of perfumed smoke invade his lungs. His throat was parched with the smoky fumes and he was nauseous from the heated atmosphere. His limbs felt weighted down, and yet unbearably light, as though he might float away into the heavens. The smoke clung to his lips, invading his mind and filling it with strange, fantastic images.
“Just you and I…” he repeated. He seemed to hear his voice from a huge, echoing distance. His legs were weak, numb from his long ride, but his body’s response was immediate. His breathing came fast and he leaned into William, his cock pressing hard against the seam of his trousers, craving its release. He let his hands wander inside the open dressing gown, memorizing the smooth planes of muscle and the velvet skin of his lover, seeking the crisp curls surrounding his hard manhood and grasping its curve in his palm.
“The dragon, my honey, the dragon has you now.” Asheton pulled again at the pipe he held over a tiny brazier and blew the silvery smoke deep into Xander’s lungs, “We shall ride him together, you and I.”
The soothing words overpowered him and he sank into William’s embrace, breathing deeply of the smoke and the delicious fragrance of his beloved.
“Why…why did you desert me? I’ve needed you so.” He begged, his heartbeat thunderous to his ears. He was without shame, desperate for William, desiring only him, yearning for a return to those brief, beautiful moments when they were together.
The scarlet glow of the room faded to jetty darkness, save a pair of lambent blue eyes. William’s lips pressed to his and another hot draught of smoke smothered him. He sucked in the smoke greedily as a child and shoved William into the nest of cushions, every part of him hungry for more. He grasped Will’s head in both hands, plundering his mouth and sucking at the plump, cool lips. Xander dragged the silken robe off William’s shoulders, leaving him bare to the waist. His lips followed, tracing a hot line of kisses along the white flesh of his throat. William sighed and stretched his arms over his head, his hips arching upward as Xander’s hands set his skin afire with longing.
“Do you feel it? How very much I want you, dear boy?”
Xander felt tears sting his eyes, “So long…you’ve been gone and then…” He felt the prick of sharp teeth at his throat and hard hands at his waist, and his protest became a moan of desire.
He became only need and want, surrendering his body and his blood, awash in passion. He knelt on the floor buoyed up by the silken cushions, naked and panting. His back arched with pleasure and he thrust his hips high as William‘s well-oiled length slid excruciatingly slow into him, the lazy strokes driving him mad.
Time flowed so slowly, like honey in winter, and he found himself on his back while William stooped over him, first pressing hard kisses to his chest then sipping delicately from the tiny wound on his throat while his clever fingers stroked and pulled. Languorous hours or perhaps minutes later, Xander felt as though he might expire from the sheer pleasure.
Near dawn and Xander’s legs trembled in exhaustion, but he refused to admit his feeble mortal body was defeated. “Please, Will-don’t leave me again!”
“Trust…” the word hissed into his ear as he panted breathless beneath his lover, “Trust me.” So low, he was uncertain what he heard. William’s body pressed against him, fierce and urgent, spreading him wider as the strokes surged relentlessly.
His wits fled, frantic from the pleasure and he gasped out again, “Will!”
It was as though his world had narrowed to a single thought and he was riding the crest of a gigantic wave…then crashing…hard, faster into the darkness. Previous chapters may be found here: spander