Roman Holiday 1: From fire to ice By Torch This is a work of speculative fiction, intended for entertainment. It is not to be sold for profit or distributed without the consent of the author. The characters belong to Anne Rice; the perverted imagination belongs to me. Spoiler warning: features spoilers for TVL and QotD. The story is set during the action of QotD and contains sizeable spoilers for the plot and the ending. Fire and ice is the first spec in the 'Roman Holiday' series; subsequent specs are From what I've tasted of desire, Sex and the single vampire, Vestigia fiammae, Burn baby burn, and Phoenix of my heart. This series takes place in the same spec universe as And death shall have no erection. So yes, 'they do'... eventually. Not in this one though, so possess your souls in patience. Roman Holiday is rated NC-17 for language and sex. Torch 1996 **** "Oh love can turn, from fire to ice... I never could take good advice" -- The Associates, 'Fire to ice' **** The icy wind tugged at his hair and at his clothes. Velvet cuffs tore and frayed and he looked at them regretfully, blinking tiny hard grains of snow out of his eyes. This had been a good coat. Its fine black nap had been softness itself under his fingertips, the kind of small pleasure he had enjoyed so much. Then he shrugged that thought away as an unworthy distraction. What did such things matter now! To be thinking of velvet as the end of the world approached. Their survival was at stake, not here in the icy wastes... but all around the globe. Everywhere the sudden flare of fire, the helpless screams. He could sense them as distant whispers on the edge of his consciousness. Santino tugged at an unravelling thread, then let it go. All around him was nothing but the blackness of night and the whiteness of ice and snow. It was jagged and hard and unforgiving, this land, not meant for walking feet. His boot soles slid awkwardly on the rocks and the ice. He could not get any colder. If he had been mortal, this place would have proven his mortality to him. He would have frozen where he stood, tumbled to the ground like a falling icicle. But he was not mortal and he walked on with inhumanly quick and light steps, keeping his mind trained to receive the distress call that was being broadcast from somewhere ahead. It was growing stronger; they were getting close. Next to him, another slim figure walked with long easy strides. Pandora was also dressed in black, a plain thin robe that offered even less protection against the weather than his velvet; she needed it far less, too. Her brown hair whipped out, a banner against the night sky. She was keeping pace with him easily; could have outstripped him, could have taken to the sky and soared, done this faster and more efficiently except that she needed him. Needed him enough to have bludgeoned him into doing this... Santino shook his head. She had not really forced him. He had agreed. But then she had chosen him because she had known he would agree, hadn't she? Pandora knew a little too much about him for his comfort. It did not snow here very often, not in these frozen wastes. The cold was too intense for that. But the wind swirled what snow there was around them, drove it stinging against their skin. It made Santino wince, but Pandora did not even seem to notice. That worried him as much as the sorrowful, withdrawn look on her face and her eerie silence. He had tried several times to start a conversation, but she would give him no more than the bare necessities. When she had come to him he had been pacing a room in an awkward Roman apartment with long impatient strides, deep in fearful thought at what he could sense from the world all around, occasionally kicking over one of the piles of books on the floor when he was so absorbed in his worries that he did not notice where he was going. She had appeared in the doorway, politely making her presence known, and he had sensed at once that the years had changed her. Intensely. All her old warmth was gone; she was closed in on herself, seemed almost like a ghost haunting the temple of her own body. "Santino," she'd whispered so quietly that a mortal would never have heard her. "Still alive." "Yes!" he had answered, almost fiercely. "Pandora, what is this, what is happening..." She had stood there for a long silent moment, and her face had been a mask and her body that of a storefront mannequin, her hair a tangled silk wig. The unreality of her had shocked him. Then with a great effort, it seemed, she had moved and the life had sparked back into her momentarily, made her gestures once again painfully graceful. He'd been lost as always in admiration of the curve of her mouth as she smiled just a little. Her beauty had always pleased him, made him somehow, obscurely, happy, a happiness that he did not need or want to have explained. "I need you to do something," Pandora had said, her Italian accented by past centuries. She sounded still the way she had when he had first met her. Even more imperious, perhaps. He'd answered reflexively, "I should jump to do your bidding?" "Don't be difficult." The weariness in her eyes and her voice had been so great that he had forborn to press her; she was usually up for a little friendly sparring, but not now. Her wide brown eyes had been haunted. "You must have heard the call..." Santino had shaken his head. He'd heard something, certainly. Though 'heard' was not the word he would have chosen. Strange dreams had come to him, cries and portents. The image of the redheaded twins was with him night and day now, haunting both his sleep and his waking hours. And beyond that he sensed something else. Death. He could feel it happening though he could not tell how, or why. Others of his kind were dying all around the world. Santino had been walking around the room here trying to understand it all before whatever nemesis that stalked them came for him too. "I don't know what is happening," he had said. "You tell me." "It's Marius, Santino. I need you to help me to find him. You can hear him as I cannot." The redundancy of her last words had made him realize that he was staring at her. It was something he had never expected to hear. Pandora had told him long ago that it was not in her interest to force a conflict or stage a confrontation. Oh, from the very beginning she had made it clear, when he had thought that she had come for vengeance, and she had told him that Marius was not dead. Not dead, and those words had put an end to one particular guilt he had been suffering, and begun another. It had been a particular torment to Santino that his followers had killed Marius even at first, when he had believed with all his soul that the strange blond Roman was a heretic and a traitor. Even then he had wondered what might be learned from such a creature. When his children had taken action on their own he had not punished them for it. They had done what was right, of course they had. And they had brought him that sweet young one, Amadeo. The one who had transmuted the frantic rituals into beauty. That had been a comfort right there. Many long hours they had talked together, building this view of the world, constructing the reality of the children of darkness, the children of damnation. Oh, Amadeo had had a real talent for that. And that had made Santino doubt that Marius had possessed any true wisdom, anything worth knowing, anything that did not fit into this all-encompassing truth. If he had, would not that young one have been filled by it, lived by it, instead of submitting so easily to what Santino taught him? All the same, Marius' destruction had troubled him, and after he had found out the truth of that, Marius' continued existence had been troubling him. The fire in Venice had planted the first cold splinter of doubt in him, and meeting Pandora had been what finally had broken his faith apart. She, the unrepentant rouge, unbelieving, fearless, had talked him through confusion and despair. The sweet touch of her hands had comforted him. Without that time he could never have borne all that was revealed to him later. A world of order, of simplicity and dark comfort had been replaced by uncertainty and fear. He had met Maharet and seen, in her mortal eyes and ageless face, disregard and dislike. Unwanted, he had been. Someone whose folly she had had no time for, left to live or go mad as he chose. As he had the strength for. Had it not been for Pandora, and later, for Eric, Santino now thought dispassionately, madness would have been the most likely result. It had hurt so much. Not just the upheaval, the burning away of all his personal truths. But having to come to terms with the things he had done, and had sanctioned, in his time as coven leader. That hurt most of all. He had wielded such enormous power in the name of something that was in the end false. Had destroyed so many of his own kind for it. And it had felt good. It had been so comfortable. Faith and loss. Words ran through Santino's mind like distant thunder. 'Certainty, fidelity On the stroke of midnight pass...' Yes, indeed. And now he was here, in the snow and ice, small icicles in his hair, and Pandora's cold hand in his, forcing him ever onwards, hurrying him on. :Do you hear him?: her voice demanded in his mind. :Yes.: The call was very clear now, and even though Marius had been trapped for some time now, his cry showed no sign of weakening. :Does he know we are coming?: He hesitated. :No.: Even against the wind the look in her eyes bit deeper. :Santino.: "Yes," he said, out loud, and the word blew away into the night. She was right, of course. No need for Marius to be still crying out, still suffering loneliness. They were coming there to help him. To rescue him from the ice that trapped him. Now what they would be taking him to after that was another matter... one that it did not help to speculate on. Santino closed his eyes for a moment, tried to brace himself for this moment. But he couldn't. There was nothing he could do that would prepare him for this. And so he just reached out in answer to the distressed cry in his mind and said, :Marius.: Silence, confusion, and then acknowledgement. :Yes! Where--who--: This was the hardest part. He could not quite find words for it and showed Marius instead, himself and Pandora, the ice all around, their direction. Other images came tumbling along, how they had slept in a crevice in the ice the day before and had been forced to break out of it as the sun set. The look in Pandora's eyes. And then Marius' mind hit out at him with sharp precision. :What have you done to her!: :Nothing,: Santino said tiredly. :Nothing.: He let their connection fade. He knew where Marius was now, and they would get there soon enough. Looking at Pandora, he merely nodded once, and she understood. She asked no questions, and he was grateful. What had he gleaned from Marius' mind? Not much, that was certain. Such control Marius had, it was admirable. Power reined in, but not forcibly curbed; no, power resting like a sleepy lion ready to spring at the right moment but willing to laze on its rock in the meantime. Power... insufficient power, at the moment, to free him from the trap he was in. And perhaps that had been all of the frustration and anger that Santino had sensed in Marius. Perhaps. And perhaps not. That Marius' mind had gone so swiftly from understanding to accusation hurt him. But then, what did Marius know of him other than destruction? Santino sighed quietly to himself and the tiny noise blew into the wild wind and vanished. Why did it matter to him... he tried to draw indifference like a warming cloak around his cold heart. The chill of the wind stung no more than the bitter loneliness inside. Repentance, what is that? What is done, cannot be undone, though it is regretted forever. He walked on. It was beginning to be an exertion now. He wasn't tired yet, and that was good, because the real work would come when they reached their destination. Not tired, but feeling a little worn. There was no real need for blood in him. But oh, how he would have welcomed the warmth of it. Pandora's hand in his had no warmth at all. He felt her strength, and knew that she would not falter. She would go on. But there was this strange emptiness in her. For Marius' sake she would go on, yet Santino feared that had she been alone, she would have vanished here, ice-maiden crumbling into crystalline dust, blown away by the wind. He shrugged the fancy away. Pandora had always been so strong, so burningly alive. Memories flickered briefly, distant images, out on a boat in the Aegean with Pandora and Eric; they had sailed long nights together and watched the dolphins leap through the waves. Pandora's warm laughter, her sheer energy. Eric's gentle smile and wicked sense of humor. It had been a good time. Pandora's hand closed more tightly around his, and he looked up, sensing her discovery, straining his eyes. Santino could not see it yet but he knew it was there. Marius' home, or what remained of it. They began to walk faster. Soon enough they came upon it. There was not much to be seen above ground. Walls tilting drunkenly, the roof collapsed in upon itself. Everything had fallen inward. Been pulled down. As they got closer Santino saw little pieces of everyday life lying there: pages from torn books blowing away, white and black, into the black and white night; the perfect circle of a blue ceramic plate shattered into jagged triangles; frosted flowers, stiff with cold. This had been a beautiful place, inviting and filled with all the things that had caught Marius' fancy. Now... it was a little frightening that destruction could also be so lovely. The absurdity of it, the tiny colorful fish sealed in ice, the drift of snow in the fireplace piled up just like wood waiting for the fire. Strange and wonderful, like a scene out of a surrealistic film. Santino shook his head softly. This wasn't where they would find him. "We must go down," he said. "Yes," Pandora agreed and walked ahead of him, finding the steep winding stairs, dragging away the rubble that blocked them. She did it casually, but Santino moved to help her anyway. What good was this terrible strength if it could not protect the heart, the fragile mind? They went down together. The stairs seemed to go on forever, dug into the frozen bones of the earth, the metal ringing under their feet. No use drifting down silently as shadows when the sound of their approach would give comfort. Though it was sometimes difficult, Santino thought with a small rueful smile, to remember to put your feet down properly as you walked. Down here there were only the smallest remnants of what had been beauty. The destruction was more complete and more deliberate. Santino saw that the heel of his boot ground a thin scrap of gold into the ice. A smudge of ash there, something that could have been incense, all scent blown away. And here was the crack, the pit. Pandora walked to the jagged edge, looked at Santino with a small smile and stepped out over it, floating down slowly. He sighed and the cold air bit at his throat and lungs. There was nothing to do but follow her. His own descent was somewhat faster and less controlled than hers, yet he landed where he should and added his hands to hers as they pushed at the heavy blocks of ice to free the one that lay trapped underneath. It was a strain, the two of them barely managing it together. The ice slid away with a terrible scraping, grinding noise that made Santino shiver. And then they saw him. He was wedged between two other blocks, and the frozen earth. Blond hair spilled out, matted with blood. The ice was stained red all around. Santino looked for the first time at this man who had played such a large part in his mind over the past five hundred years. So this was Marius. Covered with blood and mud and ice. He was beautiful and he looked furious. A strong face, regular, with a perfect Roman nose and a wide mouth that might have looked generous had it not been drawn together in anger. Santino glanced from Marius' face to Pandora's, easily able to see why those two had spent so much time fighting. Then he looked back at Marius again and, with some difficulty, met the other vampire's blue eyes. There was some kind of spark there, an acknowledgement. Santino wanted to talk to Marius, there was so much... but there was no time, truly, nor was this the right moment. Old grievances were nothing when it was a matter of their very survival. Yet thoughts of what he perceived as the conflict between himself and Marius had at least kept his mind from obsessing about the deaths that continuously presented themselves to his othersenses. There was a war going on! Not the moment, truly, for conversation. They had to work hard to free Marius, but finally Santino could hold off the last block of ice and Pandora could tug him from the ground. He slumped against her, and she pressed her wrist to his lips. Santino politely looked away. But he did notice that Pandora's face did not change. She was still uncannily calm. Almost as though this did not mean anything, either. Yet if there was one creature on earth she had felt love for it was Marius. It was through what she had said, and not said, that Santino had come in some odd indirect way to know Marius. Know something of him, at any rate. Enough to intrigue him, worry him. Marius pulled back, and Pandora, indifferently, rolled her sleeve down again. Santino eyes him cautiously. One leg seemed broken, but it was healing rapidly. Blood all over Marius' face--not enough to hide how he felt. Such a very expressive face he had for someone that old. This was someone who had never lost the power of the sheerly human gesture. Marius looked at them both slowly, thoughtfully. Pandora had not said a word, and neither had Santino, caught up in her silence and truly not certain what he *could* say. Now Marius reached out and brushed his fingertips against Pandora's cheek, and she looked at him. Something passed between them in that look, as it had not done during the taking of blood, before the spark died in her eyes again. All three of them climbed out of the pit, Marius moving with some difficulty but not inviting any more help. There was something about him that spoke of anger so profound it would not even let him thank them. They struggled up the endless spiral stairs again and Marius came out into the ruins of his home. There was one moment when Santino could have sworn that Marius paused as if in shock at the sight, although the next moment he was moving among it all, taking it in in silence. Still it must hurt to see such wanton destruction. Beauty ruined for no reason. Marius' face was healing rapidly, though. The wind blew away the dried blood and dirt, and combed harshly through the white and gold strands of Marius' hair. As Marius moved around, Pandora stood still, watching him. They made an eerie tableau, the blond man in red, the dark-haired woman in black, to the sound of the wolves howling outside. But there was no time really to watch it and try to understand. Finally Santino broke the silence, saying, "We must go." Marius turned towards him. Cool blue eyes appraised him again, seemed to weigh him, hold him up and compare him to some inner standard. Santino had the uncanny feeling that he failed to measure up. It disturbed him more than he had thought it would. Yet he hadn't expected approval. He had counted on resentment, anger even. Something. Anything. Not this, this calm dismissal. It sent a flash of sudden and unreasoning grief through him. Perhaps only because Marius was real to him now as he had never been before, and that reality was infinitely more intriguing and tantalizing than the image he had had in his mind all these years. This Marius was someone he wanted to know. He wanted to tell the full story, all that lay behind that fateful time long ago, who he had been then, who he was now. Wanted to look for--oh, not forgiveness--understanding. But this was not the moment, and that moment might never come. Pandora added her voice to his, soft, almost listless. "Yes," she said, "the meeting has been called, we should leave." "A meeting," Marius said, and there was something in his voice that sounded almost like a bitter little laugh. "Yes, Maharet wants us to come to her. She is waiting, she's calling us all." There was definitely bitterness there now, though the answer came slowly. "Summoned, are we?" "To stand together," Santino said. Marius' unsuppressed emotions gave him an edge of his own. "Unless you would rather stay here?" The blue eyes sparked and Santino remembered that the heart of a flame burns blue. It was almost enough to warm him; at least Marius *saw* him now, was with them in the present. "I'll come," Marius said roughly. All the blood was gone, cleaned off by the wind and by fastidious hands, and he only supported himself lightly on the poker he had picked up to use as a cane. That fast, he'd healed. Now he looked ready to take to the sky. Pandora closed her eyes for a moment. Giving in to his worry, Santino moved to her side, putting a careful hand on her arm. And the look that Marius gave him then could have scorched the flesh from his bones. "You should release them," Pandora said. She looked up, one brief glance at Santino, then a longer cooler look at Marius. "They will starve." The wolves, of course. Still howling out there, hungry and upset. Santino doubted setting them free would help much, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He walked that way, but the way was barred by rubble and he turned around, found an unbroken space of wall to lean against. "Very well!" Marius said. "I will do it. I will do all that's necessary. I'll go with you to this meeting and this Maharet. Of course." "Stop it," Pandora murmured. One blond eyebrow rose. "Stop it? But I thought this was what you wanted me to do." *Not now*, Santino wanted to say. It couldn't be too much to ask that these two spend ten minutes together without fighting. Could it? The slow powerful anger in Marius was rising nearer to the surface, it seemed. And perhaps he couldn't see that things were different now, or perhaps he didn't care... "It's what's going to happen," Pandora went on tiredly. "Stay if you like. Come if you like. You are wanted there." "I suppose I must come," Marius said, "since I don't seem to have the faintest idea what is going on here! Oh, I'll come. I will do as this *Maharet* says. I'll--" :Stop it,: Santino spoke firmly into Marius' mind. :Take your anger to Maharet if you wish. But not here and now. There is no time. And Pandora is too frail, you should see that.: If he had not been lounging against the wall, the look Marius shot him would have made him back up a step. As it was he stared back levelly and hoped Marius could not tell that his knees were shaking. This was the 'goody two-shoes' of Pandora's stories, the wise and kind gentleman of Lestat's flamboyant book? More to him than that, it seemed. And that was all to the good, no doubt about it. But Santino did not wish to be confronted with the darker sides of Marius' temperament just now. Then Marius turned away as if abruptly deciding Santino was not worth his attention. "Let's go, then." He strode out through the wreckage and Pandora and Santino followed more slowly. Santino wanted to hold her, hold her up, but he didn't dare touch her really. He thought it might make her collapse and cruel as it seemed, there was no time for that. It seemed clear that something was happening to her, something profound and grievous, but it would have to wait. Outside in the howling wind Marius was freeing the wolves and they danced around him for a moment, lean grey shapes moving this way and that, until they suddenly vanished into the snowstorm. As soon as they were gone, Marius shot a swift glance at Pandora and Santino over his shoulder, then rose into the sky. With a soft smile, Pandora turned to Santino. "It seems..." "You're leaving me here?" That actually brought a tiny laugh from her. "Let's fly, piccolo santo." She drew him close, quite affectionately. And they followed Marius into the sky. This was something that struck fear into Santino's heart, and he did not dare to show it. Pandora hated this. What if, suspended between earth and heaven, she should simply choose to let go? And he, helpless in her arms... Heights frightened him. And the thought that he could not entirely trust her frightened him even more. :You did not tell me,: he said, :what he was really like.: There was love and weariness in her, in almost equal measure. She seemed just to love everything, and to be so very tired of it. And the openness with which she let him perceive this was disturbing. :I do not think I could,: she said. :I know him too well for that.: Santino sighed. :He despises me.: :I think,: Pandora said quietly, :that he despises everything now, he is hurt, he poisons his own heart with bitterness. It's the pride in him.: :Still,: Santino said, :he is--he is--: :Yes. He is, isn't he?: And Santino knew that she did indeed understand. They stood there like actors on a stage, all of them elegantly posed. Santino found it hard to believe that this ballet of terror was unchoreographed, that all this was happening, that it was real and not a dream, a fiction. His eyes went from one immortal to another. All of them like angels, beautiful and burning with their own flame. All of them like works of art, unthinkable that they could be destroyed. Yet so many had died already. Vampires like these. Some he had known. Some he would miss, if he survived this. He could feel no fear. Oh, it was there somewhere, buried deep inside him. Somewhere underneath the pain. Akasha did indeed look like a goddess. Beautiful beyond words, she was, as she looked at them with eyes at once imperious and pleading. Cut them to ribbons and expected them to love her. How could this one be so strangely naive? Yet she had cut to the heart of his personal suffering, and he hated her for it even more passionately than he disbelieved in the world she was offering. To have a purpose. He did not want a purpose! She had chosen the wrong thing to tempt him with. He did not want ever again to be a slave to belief and to do strange and cruel things in the name of something beyond himself. And had she but known that, she would have chosen a different appeal. With this one she had lost him forever. Never again, he knew that. He would never give over his personal responsibility for his actions to anything or anyone ever again. And it seemed he had perhaps a minute to live by his convictions. Then he would die by them. Santino knew there was nothing he could do. He had said what he thought, but she wasn't listening. Six thousand years of living inside her own mind had not taught her to be reasonable. Instead he looked around at the others again, thinking it was a fine company to die in, at any rate. Eric and Pandora, so dear to him, though Pandora was fading and Eric was edgy and upset. Armand, dearest Amadeo. He could not help smiling. How he would have loved to speak with Armand yet again, and there had been nothing more than a look passed between them, but enough in that for Santino to feel happy in Armand's company. And he was fascinated by Louis, so calm and yet so tender, utterly unafraid for himself but caring so deeply what happened to Lestat. Such apparent contradictions in this, perhaps the most beautiful of them all, yet there was an essential oneness to him; he knew himself well. Oh, Santino wanted so much to speak with so many of them. If he was going to die here, he had at least been in the presence of the most splendid gathering of immortals... Even Maharet and Mael, with whom he had never been able to get along, were wonders, legends. In fact Santino knew that he himself had been a legend for a long time among the Roman vampires, until his name had all but faded from memory in recent years. It was just as well, he thought. He would rather be forgotten. Except that Lestat had put his name into a book and made sure everyone knew what he was responsible for... He shrugged to himself, eyeing the blond one, Akasha's prince. So everyone knew now. There was not much time left. Was this, how did they say, his fifteen minutes of fame? Lestat was beginning to look desperate. Ah, he loved Akasha. It was so clear. Swept off his feet by her. Yet he was coming to realize that he could not believe; that it was all wrong. The sight of it wrung Santino's heart. He knew this, he knew exactly how it felt. What Lestat was suffering now was the compressed version of what had happened to Santino centuries ago. Yet there would be no use telling Lestat that. Lestat would just have to go through it on his own. And she, the Queen, clung tighter to him, sensing what was happening. Marius, recovered now from his tantrum, still believing in the power of words, tried to reason with her and she knocked him down with such utter ease. The fear Santino could not feel turned into sympathy. No gratitude for all that devotion. And how that must hurt Marius. Possessed of a mystery once, now caught up in an older and uglier story by far. It seemed only natural to Santino to move quietly that way, reach down and help Marius to his feet again. The blank stare he received at first turned into a grudging nod. Marius straightened up, not badly hurt, rubbing a little at his leg where it had been broken before. Then he paused and looked at Santino again, really looked at him. "Thank you," he said quietly, grudgingly. Santino made a sarcastic half-bow, then returned his attention to the ongoing drama. But somewhere inside he was oddly pleased at having received that much; it had not merely been for this little help that Marius had thanked him. He sighed and went on waiting for death. **** He said that he felt free, liberated and relieved. But that was nothing but a lie. It must be a good lie; it seemed that they all believed him. And as he sat in that deep leather armchair, reading one book after the other and smiling calmly, no one questioned his state of mind. Marius could only assume, among so many talented telepaths, that they saw no farther than the things they wanted to see. The only one who seemed to guess something of it all was Armand. From time to time there was a certain look in his eyes, a certain sweetness and consideration in his manner. But Marius did not wish to burden the joy of their reunion with what was happening inside him. Enough of a wonder that he and Armand could be together again, and know peace. They hunted together. Talked slowly and affectionately of love and other things. Marius was getting to know Daniel, an unquenchable spirit, one who would burn brightly for many nights to come. A good choice of companion for Armand, certainly. So, on the surface he could be calm and that calm would be accepted. Under that... he could not really tell himself. Layer after layer of emotion and he hesitated to try to untangle it all, uncertain of what he would find. The Ones Who Must Be Kept were no more. Ah, an unwieldy expression, he would not miss *that*. And it was true that he would not miss having them to watch over, to be tied to considerations of their security, feel obliged to tell half truths and discriminate among his acquaintance. They were a secret he was glad to be rid of. But he still felt a great deal of anger against her. Dead and gone, Akasha was very much on his mind. She had used him and betrayed him. Marius frowned. He had cared for her out of love, and only now did he realize that she had taken it simply as her due. In the pit of his stomach was a cold coil, a whisper of impotent fury, the weight of all these years... *For her, I did so much just for *her*?* The trouble he had gone to, the fortunes he had spent, the time he had wasted. The others he had killed. The loneliness he had lived through. The things he had suffered... ...memory of darkness and fire... And in the end he had meant nothing more to her than that she had been able to leave him trapped in the ice, that she had *laughed* at him as she left, mocking his naivetˇ. That was perhaps what hurt most. He had been taken in, made a fool of. He felt his mouth twist. Never had he believed himself so vain. But now he knew. It hurt to admit it, but he had felt privileged for a long time, and now he had been forced to realize that he had merely been a convenience. Lifting his eyes from the book, Marius looked around the room. Lights burned, and candles in lovely ornate silver candlesticks that looked looted from a church somewhere. In that gentle illumination Marius could make out so many delicate preternatural faces, beauty enough to saturate the soul. No one appeared to have noticed that he had not turned a page in twenty minutes. Most of them were busy catching up on old friendships, establishing new ones. The only exception was, he thought with a sinking heart, Pandora. She worried him. And, perhaps, everyone else here, too. She simply was not there. The sparkle was gone from her eyes and there had been no sign of her warm smile, or her wicked temper. Right now she sat on a chair at the other end of the room, watching the ongoing game of chess. No way of telling if it fascinated her, or if her mind was elsewhere. Pandora was wearing the clothes he had brought her, modern and elegant. They seemed to mean nothing to her. She accepted them, as she accepted other things he gave her, quietly. It was as though the effort of rescuing him from the wreckage of his home had been the last thing she had been able to summon up energy for. Now she barely even moved of her own volition. It hurt to see her this way. She had been so passionate! He had loved her so. Still did, though the one here was only a shell of the woman he'd known. Pandora had come for him. He'd repaid her with harsh words, too. Marius felt a great deal of regret for that. Many times here he had tried to make up for it, whisper softly to her of the genuine gratitude he felt. But there was no way of telling if she listened. He somehow felt he had lost his last chance to reach her then, somewhere in the ice where he had lost so many other things as well. The ice. Cold and heavy, it had held him down, and he had lain helpless and suffocating, crying out. Trying to warn the others. Marius had not called for a rescue at first. It was too important that everyone should know of the threat Akasha presented. But then, ah then the fear had begun to grow in him. Because he could not get free. He was hurt and he was cold and he was losing blood and he was frightened. It wouldn't kill him. But that realization had come to frighten him too, because that meant he could lie here for ever and ever... Unreasoning panic had alternated with a lucid state where he kept on calling and calling. Hoping against hope that someone would come, not knowing on whose love and affection he had enough of a claim to be granted a rescue. Not daring to think that his beloved brat prince would come, for surely he was what the Queen wanted. It had been draining, and the only thing keeping him sane was that he had gone through worse things. One worse thing at least. He'd fought against that too, his old terror, soothing it with his present plight. Odd that, to swing from fire to ice, from ice to fire. Using one fear to combat the other. And then finally, finally a touch in his mind. The acknowledgement he had waited for. In the present Marius hissed softly at the memory, and clenched his jaw. Of all the vampires who might have come for him he had expected that one the least. The very touch had sent a shock through him. *Santino.* Santino with Pandora, and Pandora in pain. Had it been so strange, the conclusion he'd drawn? And after that, though help was on its way, things had grown stranger and worse. Marius disliked thinking back on it. He had been the worst kind of idiot then. The last moment when he might have reached his beloved Pandora with words, reclaiming their closeness, and he had wasted it cursing absent Akasha, and in prickly annoyance against present Santino. He'd never seen that one before. Of course. Had not believed he ever would. Rumour had it Santino had vanished, gone into the ground, gone into the fire. Marius had considered that good riddance and thought no more about it. Evidently it had not been true. Fire and Santino... those two subjects were eternally, inextricably linked in Marius' mind. And seeing Santino, finally, had nearly brought it all back. Marius laughed dryly to himself. Wouldn't that have been a fine thing, he thought, for him to have panicked there in the ice merely through fear of fire. But no one was going to know of that. No one, ever, and certainly not that black-eyed devil. Anger fluttered in his mind again, sent a claw down into his guts. Santino had been so damn *calm*, so self-possessed, standing there in the snow storm in his fancy velvet clothes. The even temper Marius prided himself on all but vanished as he looked up to see the same calm on Santino's face now, as the black-haired vampire bent over the chess-board. Playing chess with Armand, indeed. This was one subject Marius and Armand had not come to discuss yet. Armand and Santino had made their peace effortlessly and now got along as well as any other two members of this coven. Marius couldn't understand it. But it wasn't his business. He fought down the flutter of emotion inside. Armand's friendships were his own. Armand had put the past firmly behind. And Marius would rather like to do that, too. But he did not seem to manage it. His breath caught as Santino looked up from the board and caught his eye momentarily. It took a few seconds for Marius to collect himself enough to wrench his gaze away. Again! He would find this happening, every night. As though Santino was looking for something, some kind of acknowledgement. Marius growled soundlessly. He was lucky not to find himself incinerated. Fire, it all came back to fire... Then Marius chastised himself. Santino had, in fact, assisted Pandora in rescuing Marius. And Marius given him only the most rudimentary of thanks for it. He just couldn't bring himself to do any more. Did not even want to speak to Santino if he could avoid it. Unkind perhaps, but necessary for his peace of mind. Mere thoughts of Santino disturbed him enough. The momentary camaraderie under Akasha's assault had vanished again. And why care about that now... There were other more pressing matters he should deal with, Marius thought, trying to calm himself yet again. His eyes found a flickering candle-flame to rest on. Warm gold surrounding a tiny blue heart. It danced, refusing to settle down, sensing some tiny draft he knew nothing about. So easy to see visions in there, see changing shapes and familiar faces. Hands that reached out. Hands that grabbed him--white cold faces twisted with hatred and mockery. Too many of them, too strong all of them together, yet he fought. Fought wildly as everything he cared for was put to the torch. The red and golden firelight spread, flames rising with a roar. The walls burned, the floor, the ceiling. His clothes caught fire, his hair was aflame, and through it all he heard a desolate voice cry for him... My love, my Amadeo! Fire, and he couldn't breathe and had forgotten that he did not need to, and his skin blistered and broke, peeled, he had to get out, had to get-- With a strangled gasp, Marius rose from his chair, the book dropping to the floor. The thud of its fall drew the others' attention, and their curious looks made him control himself yet again. No pain, it is just imagination, now breathe, damn it! He bent to pick the book up, and smoothed a few pages that had become crumpled in the fall. Putting it aside, he walked towards the door. If he could not keep himself in order while he was in the company of others, it was best to leave. Alone, he might have some hope of recovering his composure. Marius did not want anyone to ask him questions. It was best if they went on believing him happy and content. He *was*, really. Mostly. As soon as he could take Pandora away from here, as soon as he did not need to see Santino any more, he would be perfectly all right. Roaming the luxurious rooms of Armand's pleasure palace, he felt himself finally begin to unwind. The panic attacks were painful, but seldom lasted long. In the past he had always been able to hide them from everyone until he could reason the fear out of his soul. As he walked in blessed solitude, looking out through every tall window he passed at the sea and the sky, Marius by slow turns became himself again. Yes, he was going to have to leave, he realized. No matter how happy it made him to be with Lestat, with Armand, with Daniel and sweet Louis, he would have to leave. Pandora needed peace and quiet, and he would supply her with it. And, not so coincidentally, himself also. It was best, Marius reflected to himself, pausing to see a boat pass by outside with great speed. Some of the others perhaps, out playing. He would not remain here for long enough to let anyone else spy out his weakness. Peace, solitude and calm reflection would soon have him recovered. And no matter that five centuries had done little to ease the terror that haunted him. He turned slowly, and began to walk to the room allotted to him. Like all other rooms in this incredible house, it was luxurious, large, airy and beautiful. Armand had been most considerate of his taste. The velvet drapes around the huge bed were just his favorite shade of red. It made Marius smile. Pushing the door open, he paused on the threshold for a minute and let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Then he began to wonder why there was *any* light in here, and stepped inside quickly, looking around. A tall, broad-shouldered figure rose from the chair over by the window. "You don't have to go through the spy movie charade. I am the intruder you search for." At the sound of that deep voice, Marius froze. Then he swept out with his right arm and every lamp and candle in the room blazed full force. The light illuminated every corner of the room, and shone on the face of Santino, standing in the very place where Marius least of all wished to see him. "What do you want?" he asked tightly. A sharp glance at Santino told him nothing. The younger vampire had perfect control of his features and his voice. There was something stark and uncompromising about him. Beauty he had, certainly, in no less measure than any of the others, yet it was understated and underplayed. The plain black of his clothing matched the black of hair and eyes. No ornaments, nothing that softened the impression. Regal, yes. But the glint in Santino's eyes, was that sarcasm, or cruelty? It was a trick of the mind Marius had never fallen for, to judge a vampire's strength by his physical body. Mortal habits could be dangerous when dealing with the undead. Yet he found himself instinctively and irrationally distracted by Santino's greater height and powerful build, though he knew himself well enough to be the stronger of them. "To speak with you, of course," Santino replied. "Did you think I came to admire your wallpaper?" He came a little closer, and Marius stepped aside. "Sit down." It was more an order than anything else, and the tilt of Santino's eyebrow seemed to mock it even as he obeyed, sinking down again with consummate grace. A man as big as that should not move with such splendid ease. Marius took the chair opposite, though he would rather have remained on his feet and kept an advantage. He had to keep reminding himself that this was a friendly encounter, not a prelude to hostilities. At least, he hoped it was not. He certainly owed Santino more than enough to at least try to trust him. Though it went against the grain to do so. "I am sitting down," Santino said softly. "And now, may I speak?" That teasing note again. Marius tensed, feeling the black eyes on him. "Do," he said, "though I can imagine what you want. I owe you thanks." Santino slowly shook his head. The smooth black hair, so severely straight, shadowed his high forehead. He had a long narrow face, like a carved saint's, with strong cheekbones and slightly hollow cheeks that hinted at austerity. Marius tried to imagine that face lit up, fervently preaching to the crowds. Savonarola, he thought. Though far better looking, indeed. And so much more unsettling. Marius did not want to look at Santino for too long, fearing the disturbing emotions that roiled just beneath his own calm surface, but neither did he want to look away. It would feel like taking your eyes off an adder lying by your foot. "No thanks," Santino said with startling abruptness. "It was I who owed you something. For Venice. For what my children did." Marius clenched his hand on the arm of his chair. His nails dug into the velvet. "For what you ordered your children to do." The words slipped out, despite his best intentions. All that answered him was a gentle sigh, at first. Santino's eyes were still on him, pinned him in place. "I did not," Santino said, and thoughtfully added, "but you'll believe what you choose. There are no other survivors to tell the truth." Then he shrugged. "That's not to say I might not have ordered it sooner or later. So you can be as free with your blame as you please." The gentleness disoriented Marius. And it was at odds with the cynical gleam in Santino's eyes. "It's in the past," he said, brusquely. "And now you have helped in saving me. It's well enough." A small smile played on Santino's face. "So I have your forgiveness, then?" "Sit venia verbo... *non*!" Marius gasped, and recovered enough to make his thoughts return to the casual English of their conversation. The Latin had slipped out, as always when he got agitated. Santino, of course, had understood perfectly. "Persona non grata sum," he said with a lazy grin, his accent medievally slurred. "Capito." "I didn't mean--" Marius was at a loss for words. He didn't know exactly what he *had* meant. But there was the truth of what he had said. Forgiveness, no, it wasn't in him. "Let's just forget about it." "Oh by all means," Santino agreed, so readily that Marius sensed he was being mocked. "It's not important. I'm used to it." This time the edge was a little sharper, and Marius did not instantly perceive how it could cut both ways. "Keep your forgiveness then, Marius, if it's too precious to give." Watching the haughty face, Marius knew that this was perhaps the only time this would be asked of him. The only chance he had to make peace with his past. Santino was not one who would humble himself easily, and he had tried now. But memories of flame burned in Marius' mind and would not be quiet. "Ask me again," was all he was able to say, then he instantly regretted it. Santino was already on his feet, and now his black eyes blazed. Marius, accidentally meeting that gaze, wanted to jump back. A lightning touch of fire, of ice, ran up his arms and down his spine. No, there could be no forgiveness here. His mind raged, tumbled through terrors. "A regular pleader, you'd have me?" Santino's voice was all razor blades and velvet now. "Your client, *patron*? I think not." Then a smile flashed, no more reassuring. "But you'll see me again, never fear." Marius rose as well, as though pulled to his feet by the tension in the room. "Get out of my sight!" Instead Santino stepped closer, and though he made no overtly hostile move, menace radiated from him. Marius found himself actually, for one brief moment, afraid. And that woke his anger as nothing else might have done. He lifted his head, raised his chin and for a moment they looked at each other, practically snarling, like fighting cats. "I won't cower for you," Santino hissed. "I may deserve your anger, but by all the gods, you won't despise me!" Marius clenched his fists. "Get *out*!" "Very well." Half a step backwards, and then Santino swept him a bow, elegant and mocking. "For the time being, Marius." Turning, he walked away slowly, out the door and was gone. Marius half fell into his chair again. He covered his face with his hands, ran his fingers into his hair. What the hell had just happened here? It would have been so easy to say just thank you, of course, you're forgiven, now let's just forget it. And then he would have been rid of the obligation and the past alike. Instead he had angered Santino and been given the promise--threat--of further attentions. Utter folly. The thought of Santino's reappearance burned in him. Fear, and shame at that fear. He was trembling with it. Infinitely more powerful than Santino, he nevertheless feared him. What a perfect torment. Marius groaned out loud. He could never let Santino know that. It was time for him to leave. Too much to hope for that he would never see the other again, but he could at least be granted some time to calm himself. He'd take Pandora, go and find himself a new place to live, somewhere warm, and quiet. There had to be a way out of this. Sooner or later, he would recover. His fears would go away. As they never had in five hundred years. Straightening up, Marius took a deep breath and smoothed his hair back into its customary order. What, would he let his life be weighted down by this, one irrational fear and one angry vampire less than half his own age? Together with Pandora he would find peace. Santino and Santino's demands would be forgotten. All the strangeness that had entered his life since Akasha's awakening would be worn down and smoothed over. Everything would be all right. With that comforting lullaby singing in his head, Marius returned to the company of the others yet again. But the first thing he did when he entered the living room was to snuff out all the candles. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Roman Holiday 2: From what I've tasted of desire Scene: a terrace outside a long low house, some time after sunset. Wilderness encroaches on the house and its surroundings, but that may be an impression deliberately cultivated to the owner's taste. On the black basalt blocks of a long low balustrade lies a man, his hair blacker than the stone, and savors the last of the remaining heat. Another man, more slender of build, stands nearby and watches him with an indulgent smile. Beyond the balustrade, the ground slopes down towards the shore, and the sound of waves can be heard. Eric: You're a hedonist. Santino : Oh, there was a reason you built this of black stone. You like this as much as I do. Eric: I'm not as blatant about it. Santino : Sit down. You're making me restless. Eric seats himself gracefully, not far from Santino's feet. Eric: You're in a better mood tonight. Santino : I could hardly be in a worse one. Eric : No. Santino : I'm sorry. If I took it out on you. Eric : I'll live. Or whatever. You'd been to see Marius again, right? Santino: Yes. Eric: One would think you'd grow tired of that game. Santino : Game? Eric : Whatever it is you want from him, you're not getting it. And you keep trying. Santino: That's my affair. Eric: And Marius', I'd rather imagine. Santino : Give over, Eric. Don't tease. Eric: But it's what I do best. Santino : Too true. I just don't take well to it on this particular subject. Eric : So I've noticed. There is a short silence as they both watch the stars coming out and listen to the sea. Santino is now sitting with one leg bent, arms resting across his knee, slightly hunched forward. Eric, though looking up at the sky, keeps stealing little glances at him. Eric: Did you see Pandora? Santino: No. She doesn't stir, I imagine. Eric : He should let her follow her instincts. Santino: He cares too much. Eric : If he cared, he'd let her go into the ground! Santino: But he does care. Eric: That's no great help. Santino : No. I'll try to mention it next time. Eric : Next time! Santo, what kind of a fool are you? Santino: How many kinds are there? Eric: Any number, I would think. And you at the head of them. The man drives you crazy. I'd no idea you'd taken up masochism in your spare time. Santino : Suffering refines the soul. Eric: Yes, but do you have to come and suffer in *my* house? Santino : My poor Eric. Eric: I'll start charging you rent. Santino: Did buying that Matisse clean you out? I've told you to invest your money better. Anyway, I hope you take cards, I've no spare cash. Eric: I was hoping for payment in kind. Santino : A pint of blood rather than a pound of flesh? You won't get many guests at that rate. Eric : That's not quite what I'm after. Santino: Do you still have that boat? Eric : No, I sold it when I moved here. I can always get a new one. Santino: It doesn't matter. I was just thinking... Eric: You'd like to go out there, tonight? Santino : It's the feeling of isolation. Privacy. Eric: Well, this place is hardly Piccadilly Circus. Santino : Not quite. That's not what I meant. I'd just like to be away from everything and everyone for a little while. Eric : I can leave. Santino : Wait. No. I didn't mean to--*did* I offend you? Eric: It was an honest offer. Though if solitude's your aim you should not have come here. Santino: I did want your company. Do. Eric : Good. Santino: I miss Pandora. Eric : Me too. Another reason to wish that Marius would let her sleep, so she can rise again. This way, she could just sit forever, too awake to be healed. Santino : Yes. It should be pointed out. Eric: Next time. Santino: Right. Eric: Santo, caro, *why* do you keep going back? Santino : Because I want to. Eric looks at him and seems to come to some inner conclusion. He rises, walks slowly along the balustrade and stands at its farthest end, looking down. Then he turns slowly and walks back. Eric: You love him, don't you. Santino : What? Eric: You're bloody well in love with the man. Santino, you've gone crazy. Santino : And how did you reach this remarkable conclusion? Eric: Just say yes, you know you'll admit it sooner or later. Might as well make it easy. Santino: Get your curious prying fingers out of my psyche. Eric: And that's what I get for four hundred years' friendship. Santino : I'm sorry. Eric : You can tell me, you know. Santino : I know. I just wasn't ready to tell myself. Eric : So it really is true. Santino: Yes. Eric: And he... refuses you. Santino : He knows nothing! I'm not--I don't-- Eric: Relax. Santino: I can't. It burns in me. You can't know. Eric : I can't? Santino: I think I've loved him since the moment I first saw him. Crazy, did you say? Oh, I know. There haven't been three civilized words between us since then. Eric: You keep going back. Santino : It would take more pain than that to make me stop. Eric: You punish yourself. Santino: But not only that. It's a joy to see him even if all the rest of it hurts. Eric nods and looks away for a moment, his eyes glittering. Eric : One can bear a great deal for love. And just being in the presence of the beloved is worth every pain a casual word can give. Santino: Yes, that's it. And even the not-so-casual words. What it is to have understanding friends. Eric : So what will you do? Santino: I don't know. Go on. It won't kill me. Eric: No. Santino: I try, I do try. To stay away and forget. But... He is like a fever under my skin. He burns in me. Eric stands up abruptly again, and turns his back to Santino; he stands quite still, looking down on the ground at his feet. Santino : And this pain of wanting is almost pleasant at times. I think of him and I suffer, and there's a certain happiness in that. Perhaps you were right in how you named me before. Eric : I don't think I'll ever buy another boat. Silence. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Roman Holiday 3: Sex and the single vampire "I heard you didn't want to see me." "Ah. So here you are." "Yes." Tension gripped him, starting at the base of his spine and rising rapidly, knotting his muscles. Marius turned around slowly, knowing what he would see. This small room had seemed like a haven only a few moments ago. Now, this. A tall, strong figure stood in the doorway, dressed in worn, non-descript black garments, straight black hair tumbling around a pale face. Wide black eyes watched him intently, eyes that gave nothing away. Even dressed as a vagabond this one looked like a king in disguise. "Santino." Marius sighed. "It did not occur to you that we would both be more comfortable if you had accepted what you heard?" Santino stepped forward, walking into the circle of light cast by the lamp on Marius' desk. Even under this soft illumination, his preternatural nature showed clearly; the white, reflective skin, the glassy nails, the way his eyes gleamed, all colors falling through them before the basic black returned. Of all of them, Marius reflected, Santino was probably the most 'classic' vampire type. And he wasn't even trying. Beauty and menace were second nature to him. "Comfortable?" Santino shrugged. "Comfort has never been my main aim. I prefer to keep my life... interesting." "So you decided that forcing another confrontation would add a little zest to your dreary existence," Marius said dryly. "And to *your* dreary life, Marius," Santino mocked, sitting down on the edge of the desk with nicely calculated insolence. "I don't just think of myself all the time, you know." Marius put his book aside and leaned back in his chair. He looked around this small rented room, taking in its simple comforts: the books, piled on shelves and tables, the window that looked out on a quiet courtyard, the plain wide bed, the television set. A refuge, though he tried not to think of it that way. It was still early in the evening. Perhaps this could be dealt with quickly, and his whole night would not be ruined. He had had plans, before Santino's appearance. Marius wanted to hold on to his good mood, though he knew it to be nearly impossible. Already the feelings were there and waiting for him. But he would not give up control and he certainly would not show fear. "Well then. Suppose you tell me whatever it is you want to tell me, and then you can leave again." "You know what it is," Santino said, still looking intently at him. Marius felt a familiar lump settle in his stomach, cold as ice, hot as fire. There were memories there, memories he wasn't ready to bring up at all. It had been some time now, and he had hoped it was all buried and gone. The same hope, denied yet again. The fears, and Santino, would not leave him alone. "We've been through all that." "No," Santino contradicted him bluntly. Perched on the edge of the desk, he towered over Marius, tall and dark and imposing. Marius had to lean back and tilt his head to look at Santino's face, which he did not really want to do, but did anyway. The first flutters went through him, fear and disturbance, sharp-edged and wicked. He could not look at Santino without that sudden rush, the sensation of going down in a fast elevator. With seeming patience, Marius reiterated his oldest argument. "I've said that I've forgiven you." Penetrating black eyes held him captive for a moment. "You don't mean it." In an instant, the calm mood vanished as something inside him struggled for freedom. Marius slammed both fists down on the desk; the book went flying; the desktop cracked and splintered. "What the hell do you know about that!" Santino had jumped away at Marius' violent reaction; now he stood to one side of Marius' chair, regarding him with one eyebrow sardonically raised. "It's just an educated guess, but I don't think you'd be breaking furniture over nothing. Now, either I make you really mad, or those memories make you really uncomfortable, but in either case, it means things are not settled." "They're as settled as I care to make them," Marius said, breathing heavily, already regretting his outburst. He prided himself on his even temper, one of the few Roman virtues he approved of. Somehow Santino was always able to provoke him, get under his skin. He sat back into the chair again and let his head slump forward. "And what does it matter to you, anyway?" The lamp had fallen to the floor awhen the desk collapsed, and now the light was nearly non-existent in the small room. Santino was a shadow within a shadow, black on black. That shadow spoke softly. "I risked my life to save you, Marius." "Just so I could forgive you?" Marius spit out. "Yes, of course." There was a biting edge to Santino's voice. "Did you think it was Pandora's charm that made me come?" Marius had thought that he could not move, but when he heard that he was out of the chair in an instant, grabbing Santino by the throat, slamming him against the wall. "Don't speak about her that way," he said with as much control as he could manage. "You call yourself her friend? You've never even tried to see her." "I've never called myself her *anything*," Santino said, maddeningly calm despite the fact that he was pressed against the wall by Marius' hand around his neck. "And you're no true friend to her, the way you treat her." "What!" Marius gasped. "I do everything for her! I try to make her take an interest--" "You're being an idiot." Santino's voice bit like acid. "She needs to go into the ground, to sleep and rest. You shouldn't keep her from it the way you do." "You pretend to care for her--" "I do care for her--" "Or else she'd never have gotten you to go north with her--" "As I tried to point out, I went to rescue *you*." "And everyone agreed that you had repaid your debt in full, and I said I forgave you, so why are you here again?" Marius knew he was losing his grip; he'd practically screamed the last few words. "Why won't you leave me alone!?" The echoes of his words rang through the room. Marius caught himself up, appalled. What was he doing? Everything pressed down was boiling up dangerously close to the surface. He let go and backed away slowly; Santino recovered his balance and then set about adjusting his sleeves and smoothing the collar of his shirt, pointedly not looking Marius' way. Marius continued to back away until he came up against the other wall. Cool glass against his shoulders. Window. The light wavered where the lamp rolled slightly, responding to the floorboards' shifting under their feet. Flickering... He fought down the panic that threatened to engulf him. It was so unreasonable. Ridiculous. To still fear the memory of something that had happened centuries ago. And to hate the sight of this man because it would never have happened without him. Now Santino did look up and smiled, a small cold smile that chilled Marius to the bone and then, paradoxically, set him on fire. He seemed to feel it running up his arms, down his chest, licking at his hair. Crackle of flames. He could smell the smoke. Gasping for air did not help. He kept expecting hands to tear at him, or the walls to begin to collapse. With an inarticulate shout, Marius turned around, broke the window open and threw himself out. The fall and the fresh air soothed his panic. Some deeply buried instinct alted his fall, began to bring him back to himself and he swung upwards effortlessly, his previous terror transmuted into a desire to get away, just far far away. He rose high and for a moment almost strove for the stars, then dropped again, soothed by the sheer physical exertion. It had happened again, he had allowed Santino to spark his temper, spark the memories. Marius groaned. He would be fine, he would be perfectly all right if Santino would just stay away from him! It had been years since the last time. Marius would have been happy to postpone this for at least a few years more. But Santino was here now and he had been forced out of his comfortable little room. Sighing, Marius reviewed his options. The memory of his original plans for this night returned to him. He had been in San Francisco for a couple of weeks now and there was a call he meant to pay. Perhaps this was not the right moment--he was definitely not in the right mood--but all the same he let that direction take him, for want of anything better to do. For a vampire, the distance between Russian Hill and Pacific Heights could be crossed in an instant. But Marius let himself drift, tried to calm down. Now that the all-engulfing fear had receded, he felt embarrassed at his reaction, and at his earlier violence. After all, he was genuinely grateful to Santino for helping Pandora free him from the ice. Really. And though that meeting had been prickly and difficult enough, it had given Marius hope that both of them could put some things behind them. That they could forget. But forgetting the past did not seem to be what Santino had in mind at all. Marius knew would be quite all right if only he didn't have to *think* about it! Marius wanted to eradicate those memories more than anything else. Forget all about the fire. Over and done with. Long past. Not important any more... he shivered. Seeing Santino invariably brought it back. He had to stop thinking about it. And the best way to set about that was to do something else. Floating like a feather on the breeze, Marius gradually settled down outside a certain house. He had long ago ascertained exactly where Lestat's newest fledgling had established himself. On the night of his arrival in San Francisco, Marius had investigated the place closely. Since then he had kept his distance, but now... now he was here, he was feeling better, and he might as well make himself known to this David Talbot. If, of course, David Talbot was here. Marius smiled a little, more relaxed now. That wasn't necessarily the case. There were no lights on anywhere. But that was not the most certain sign of vampiric presence. Some kept every lamp and candle blazing all night, others preferred near-darkness, as close to true night as they could get. Still smiling, Marius leaned back against a tree and opened up to scan the house for Talbot's presence. Of course he did not know what that new fledgling's mind would feel like, but he would be able to tell a strange vampire easily. Having settled his fears and quelled his panic, he was relaxed, open. And *something* slammed into his head and took his breath away, something hot and insidious and seductive.... ::mm so soft so smooth [tu es beau] yes like silk and hard i like that too everything about you [et je t'aime, ah, mon ange] the way you feel and taste and smell the sounds you make [permette-moi, tu sais bien ce que je veux] your hands your mouth:: He was hugging the tree now, almost frantically, his cheek pressed against the bark hard enough for the pattern to imprint itself on his skin. Marius forced his eyes open, made himself breathe. He felt dizzy. *What the hell was that?* The emotion that had poured into him left him weak. It was still in him, so powerful. Passion, simple and complex. Not David Talbot. Marius could be absolutely certain of that. Because he had *known* that mind, the mind broadcasting its needs and its pleasures so unreservedly to anyone who happened to be listening. The mind of a vampire. Indeed. His dear brat prince, and no other. It was a horrible breach of privacy to have heard even that much. Yet at the same time, what he had sensed was so intriguing, and so seductive, and so incomprehensible, that Marius was almost frantic with the need to find out more. He knew he should not spy on this intimate moment. But there was something he just did not understand in that, something he had never expected to feel from the mind of one of the undead, and so he crushed his scruples for the moment, consigned them to a closed compartment in his mind, and opened up. Again, very cautiously... ::yes like that oh touch me there right *there* [oui, je sais] you always know just how to [mon amour, je veux que tu--] your hands do things to me that i hadn't even realized [que tu me prennes] god yes please that hurts don't stop yes now that's right oh god i love you love you love you:: And that was familiar too. Familiar and so bizarrely unexpected that Marius could not fathom it. Was that indeed Louis, wild and uninhibited, crying out in sensual delight? The thought set Marius' mind reeling. He should leave. He should leave now, right away. Pretend he'd heard, sensed nothing. This was so very far from being his concern. But the sheer... *heat* of it... the impossibility of what these two minds were sending out, made him hesitate... and draw closer. He had to see. He had to find out for himself. It couldn't be. Moving silently, oh so silently, knowing he probably shouldn't, unable to stop, drawn by a powerful curiosity and something else, some long forgotten feelings... Following their mental voices, Marius found himself outside a window looking in. Nothing would have made him not do it, not even had he believed they would catch him at it. And when he did he instantly regretted it. Could not look away. Could not believe his eyes. Dear gods, they were--they were-- They would certainly not see him, having eyes for nothing but each other. Blond hair spilling over white skin. Legs tangled together. Green eyes hazy and sightless, lost in pleasure. The soft moans, the almost mortal sounds. Bodies moving together in a heated rhythm. Joined. Not possible. But it was happening. And the sheer force of their feelings, of their passion, slammed into his mind again as he let his guard down, suffusing him with second-hand ecstasy. He reeled with disbelief, and then belief, unable to hold out against that overpowering wave. Marius staggered backwards, made himself turn away. Gods, he couldn't stay here! He needed to get--up--into the cool air, away from this. But no matter how high he went, defeating gravity, his mind would not relinquish those images, or the feelings that went with them. Oh impossible. Impossible. He tumbled around, down, drunk on this, a tiny whisper in his mind telling him to get back to his room and forget this had ever happened. They'd never forgive him if they knew. He could never ask them about it. Marius swallowed, his throat dry. Oh gods. So beautiful, they had been. And... impossible... only their pleasure was still setting up echoes inside him, so strange and disturbing, tiny flames burning under his skin and he couldn't think. It had happened, he really had seen, it *was* possible. Back again. The window was still open, easy to enter without being seen. The fallen lamp still burned, set upright now behind the destroyed desk. Everything that had happened to him might have been a strange dream. He took in the details but did not really see, mind preoccupied with other far more alluring images. Yet it slowly registered on him that something was wrong. His book... wasn't there. Marius spun around. Santino stood by the door, reading. Relaxed now, his body language spoke of predatory grace rather than dignity, and his hair had slipped free and fell about his throat. As if sensing eyes on him as a mortal would, he lifted his head and gave Marius a long, cool look. "Forget something?" Marius opened his mouth and closed it again. Strange heated waves swept through him, disorienting him, making him doubt the reason of any words he might have said. Nothing seemed quite right, the world had tilted. He crossed the room and stretched his hand out to take his book back, reclaim normality. Only his hand had ideas of its own, closing around Santino's wrist, tracing along the dark vampire's arm all the way up to his shoulder. Wanting something. "I'm on fire," he said. Fingertips drifting across that shoulder, lightly caressing the bare throat. So smooth, so beguilingly straight... Santino's black brows drew together in what Marius would have called concern in anyone else. "And you said you did not want to talk about this?" Santino looked threatening really. A cruel and handsome devil, with the way his lips curled, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. White teeth glinting. Fangs. And was that the very tip of his pink tongue? "Marius, we must--" "No." The heat was rising, impossible this also. He really was going up in flames, burning up. Marius leaned closer, putting his other hand against the wall on the other side of Santino's head. Shivering with unreasoning fear of this vampire, shivering because of the feelings inside him. "No talk. Impossible." And he was so close now, really really close. Tongue tracing the lines of Santino's mouth, his silky soft lips. Hands clutching shoulders, kneading them through rough black cotton. And then Santino's mouth opened under his and they were kissing and he was falling. Lost. On fire. Santino could not believe it. He'd expected confrontation, yes. Yet he'd pushed it. He always did. He'd rather have Marius' anger than nothing at all; he thrived on reaction. Silence was death. But that Marius would actually jump out the window rather than talk to him, that had been something of a surprise, and not precisely what he had been aiming or hoping for this evening. The little hurt of it he could bear, but he wanted more. So he had decided to wait, hoping that Marius would come back eventually. And he had, sooner than Santino had expected. Still agitated, though. Uncontrolled emotion had glittered in Marius' eyes. Something must have happened to him, though Santino could not work out what that might have been. And now... this. Santino did not understand why Marius, who was normally so concerned with keeping a proper distance, came so close to him. It made him shiver, though he took good care to hide it. And then Marius touched him, something almost feverish about the older vampire's movements, his words. It was all Santino could do not to fall into Marius' arms right then and there. Only confusion held him upright and seemingly sensible. Every light brush of Marius' fingers burned along his nerves. Then at the first touch of Marius' lips against his own, his mind had practically short-circuited. *No no. This is not happening. This cannot be happening.* It was, in fact utterly impossible. A thousand thoughts chased each other through his mind: that it was a test of his good intentions, that it was a sign of peace, that Marius had gone crazy and did not know what he was doing. And then he thought, *I don't care.* Slowly he let his hands settle against Marius' back; Santino parted his lips, returned the kiss. Allowed his secret desires to unfurl like black banners in the blackest night. *I don't care why he's doing this, I don't care if he's gone crazy. I'm holding him in my arms.* He tightened his grip, feeling Marius' body press against his own. He had never expected this to happen, had certainly never expected Marius to touch him with such an almost mortal passion. But it was sweet. Wonderful this kiss, so heated. Santino ran a hand up Marius' back and down again, tracking the curve of the spine, tickling the bumps with his fingertips. Marius was sucking delicately at his lower lip, just a hint of teeth, not breaking the thin skin. Santino bent his neck just a little, and then let his left hand drift to the back of Marius' head and undid the ribbon that held his hair together. Running his hand into that silky mass and gripping it hard, he bent Marius a little backwards, and Marius allowed it. Another kiss, Marius a captive in Santino's arms, though he could easily break away did he choose to. He didn't. Marius clung to Santino, so close. It was too much to believe. This could not be meant for him. If anything could have held him back, it would have been the sheer amazement he felt. But here was Marius, sweetly eager, too utterly gorgeous to resist, and Santino kissed him again and again for the delight it was, and saw Marius' lips slightly swollen with those kisses, and suddenly all the ripe fruit similes made sense. He tracked kisses along the jaw line, brushed his lips over the ear lobe and heard an indrawn breath. It was going too fast. As beautiful as Marius was, he deserved a thousand caresses everywhere, but at the same time urgency fired Santino and made him want to claim every inch of Marius' skin all at once. This, he thought absently to himself, letting his mouth wander down Marius' arched throat, was how he had made love to mortals once, when his blood had been hot and his passions human. And had that ever felt like this, this overwhelming frantic desire that drove him on? Marius' hands tore at his shirt, wriggled in underneath it and stroked his back. The touch raised a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of Marius' flesh. And then the hands were tugging him along, and with stumbling steps they came to the bed and fell on it, refusing to let go of each other in the fall. Santino was grateful. His knees had buckled when Marius' nails tickled the back of his neck. Now he twisted, and raised himself on one elbow over Marius, and looked down into Marius' face. Lids drooped slightly over blue eyes, and Marius' lips were parted, moist, so intoxicatingly inviting. Impossible to resist kissing them again. Santino struggled for tenderness, tried to make his hands gentle on Marius' body, even knowing he could do no real harm. But Marius' red shirt he could and did tear at with unsuppressed violence. Those shoulders, perfect. He licked at them, sucked at the hard flesh, nipped it gently. Marius moaned, and went wild. Santino's own clothes were ripped away with a savage speed that left him breathless. He hardly dared to believe in the urgency he saw in Marius' face, or in the caresses he felt, though every touch thrilled him. A hot kiss pressed into the hollow of his throat, and then light random kisses scattered over his chest, butterfly-flighty and sweet. This was not, Santino tried to think as he sank back into the mattress, what he had ever expected. He was, in fact, being seduced. And it was absolutely wonderful. Turning his head, he kissed the palm of the hand that had been caressing his cheek, then licked at it, and drew his tongue up along one finger before sucking the fingertip into his mouth. Marius made a small sound, halfway between moan and gasp. Then Marius leaned down and bit off Santino's nipple. At least Santino thought that that was what happened. His back arched helplessly and he cried out as much in surprise as in pain. Seconds later sensation returned and he could feel a tongue licking at him, and realized he was still whole and still hurt. But the pain was beginning to change. It was a torment to his nerve-endings, but he did not fight to make Marius stop. Tongue and lips teased him, and he shivered. And then it began, the low sweet buzz that coursed through his entire body, making him gasp with disbelief. He had thought he felt desire, before? That feeling was being obliterated by this. If that had been desire, this was need. If he had wanted Marius before, now he *craved* him. In the crudest and most mortal of fashions. Clever fingers teased his other nipple too, and Santino could have screamed. He did not care that this wasn't supposed to be possible; it was damn well happening to him. And Marius, did Marius know what sensations he was raising? Had he any idea exactly what it was that Santino burned for now? There was only one way to make certain. With a great effort he moved, turned, managed to pin Marius down. Santino looked into Marius' face and almost lost what little sense remained to him. Marius' pupils were dilated, his cheeks flushed. There was something purely carnal about the way his lips parted and his tongue pressed against his teeth. Santino wanted to take him, right there and then. He bent his head and echoed Marius' earlier actions, kissing and licking the broad, smooth chest, trailing his fingers along its exquisite lines. And then the quickest flick of his tongue over a nipple before he took it in his mouth. Marius cried out, but did not struggle. Indeed he pressed closer, and tangled one hand into Santino's hair. Santino felt another wave of pure lust almost overwhelm him. The sensations he felt were unbelievable, a mortal sexual desire amplified a hundred times through the keen senses of a vampire. And this one, this precious one in his arms, it was *Marius*. Love charged him, left him tense and quivering. It drove him on, just as much as Marius' soft moans. He knew that Marius wanted him now, wanted Santino the same way Santino wanted him. Yet he wanted to be certain. And he wanted to know how far this could go. How much self-control that remained to either of them. It was all so fast, an instant conflagration; he tried to fight it just a little longer. Santino let his mouth roam, planted more kisses in a line downwards, pausing only briefly to lick the blood sweat out of Marius' navel and shiver at the way this delicious taste made his tongue tingle. Then he slowly began to unbutton Marius' pants, letting his fingertips stroke the hardness he found within. Not hard from this lovemaking, but from the change within vampire flesh. All the same tremors were running through Marius' body at his touch. He sat up for a moment to remove every last piece of clothing, leaving Marius as naked as Santino was himself. Gently nudging Marius' legs apart, he settled between them, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath and try to hang on to the last that remained of his sense. But with Marius lying like this, shuddering in anticipation of his touch, Santino felt himself falling fast. He bent forward, kissing the sensitive inside of Marius' thigh, moving his lips higher. Of course he knew where he was going, but getting there was half the fun. Marius strained towards him and Santino pressed him back, having to use all his strength as Marius started to lose control. Incredible, the expression on his face. And then Santino brushed his lips along that long smooth hardness, and sucked the head into his mouth. He thought for one second that Marius' body was simply going to explode in his arms. There had to be pain, considering what everything else had felt like, but the hand wrapped in his hair yet again was urging him on. And Santino did not want to stop. He took it in deep, then eased off again, teasing with his tongue. Strange how easy it was to remember. Yes, this spot right here. Marius could not keep silent, could not keep still. Santino could have gone on with this all night, enthralled with the discovery and with Marius' incredible response to his caresses. But desire was winding his nerves tighter and tighter. And as if sensing that, Marius seized the next opportunity to gently slip away from Santino's attention and shift, turning over. His legs were spread in clear invitation and Santino thought his heart would stop. It was too much. Marius could not be offering him this. But he was, he *was*. Love made his hands gentle. He stroked that long lovely back, kneaded the enticing curves below. Santino pressed his lips right between Marius' shoulder blades, then kissed his way down the spine, slowly, slowly, and did not stop where Marius clearly expected him to but went on, his tongue exploring, probing, until Marius cried out again and tensed and relaxed, and that secret rose, that delicate ring of muscle also began to relax. His fingers joined in, touched and pressed and stretched carefully, slipping inside and scraping delicately, maddeningly at that particular point inside... Nothing in the world had ever been as intoxicating as the way Marius sounded right then, nothing as seductive as the heave of his back, the frantic pushing of his hips. Santino had to close his eyes. Now, it had to be now or he would simply die. He could not bear it a moment longer. Marius whimpered when Santino withdrew his fingers, but easily let himself be pulled up on knees and elbows. He was so open, so willing, that Santino felt his heart would break. Slowly, he tried to go slowly but it was so easy and in one heated rush that drove all rational thought from his mind they were fully joined. There was pain. There was a lot of pain, that he dimly understood had nothing really to do with how much or little they wanted this; it was the protest of the spirit that animated them. But this was not a moment when either of them could stop. And the almost instinctive movements they both made soon ceased to hurt, and then, ah then... He felt it start, and spread, as if the pleasure was too strong to bear concentrated in just one place. Felt it rush outwards from their interlocked flesh, igniting all of him, making him so utterly sensitive that every careful thrust sent ripples along his entire body. It was incredible to realize that Marius, the marble god, could be so soft and responsive. Santino was holding tightly to Marius' bucking hips; then he let one hand slip down under the sweat-slick belly and close on the hardness he found there, gently at first, then with a firmer caress. Marius was still moaning, one breathless sob after another it was now. He was wild, nearly fighting in his urgency, pushing to take Santino in deeper, faster, to make this fire burn white-hot. Santino wanted to draw it out, to savor it, but he could not argue with the heat, with Marius' wordless plea, with the absolute violence of passion in him that would not be suppressed. He let both his hands slide forward along Marius' writhing torso, then down Marius' arms, until finally their fingers gripped each other with crazy strength. It was building up fast now, too fast. Marius had already lost all control and was heaving under him, struggling for release; Santino felt insanity tug at him, the dark blaze of primitive lust that was about to steal his reason, and then the realization came to him... he could let go. There was no need for his control, or the last remnants of his disbelief. Here, now, the impossible had come to happen, and this was *Marius*. Santino gave himself over to it. No fear, no doubts any more, just this all-consuming passion. They both wanted it; there was equal heat, equal eagerness on both sides and it was as close to perfection as loving could get when all thought finally slipped away. It was savage and furious, spiralling too high, building up until some danger point had been long passed and they were utterly at the mercy of each other's bodies. He felt it take him and was helpless. No telling who screamed, who was silent. It shook him inside and out, blinded him, turned his blood to molten silver and burned his mind to smoke and ashes. Words failed, would always fail here where no thought could go. And the stillness that followed was deep and heavy with a peace that would take no answer but sleep. Carefully, he sought for his lover's lips, found them. One final kiss, and it healed his heart of any pain it had ever felt. And then he slept. **** The sun had barely set when Marius opened his eyes; he knew that though he could not see it, and lay quietly staring upwards in darkness for a few moments. All he knew was that he was incredibly comfortable, sheltered... safe. Then he moved, stretched languidly, and body-awareness returned to him. Unaccustomed feelings, little pains. And all at once memory came alive, rising like a fireball from the pit of his stomach. He threw himself off the bed, staggered to his feet and went to the window, ripping down a covering he could not remember putting up. Twilight filled the room with blue and grey. The city outside was awake, speaking in shouts and whispers. This window faced east, but he knew in the west the sky would still blossom in yellow and red. Marius turned slowly around and looked towards the bed. Santino was lying there; the deathlike sleep had caught him sprawled on his back, one arm flung to the side--the arm that had held Marius. Black hair fanned out against the white sheets. Black lashes lay silently curved over white skin. Nothing saint-like about Santino now. His body looked powerful even in sleep. Marius' eyes tracked its sleek lines, the perfectly preserved shape of a strongly built man. He'd slept with his head pillowed on one broad shoulder, he realized. Slept cradled in Santino's embrace. On Santino's face was a small, sweet smile that sleep could not undo, a smile of utter contentment. Watching it he felt the first stirring of a true and bone-deep panic. Marius walked back towards the bed again. He bent to pick up a shirt, looked at it and threw it aside with a baredly-suppressed shudder. Moving to the other side of the room he found and opened a suitcase, and dressed quickly in tan slacks and a crisp white shirt. He started to pull his hair back, hunted through his pockets for a ribbon and couldn't find one. All the time he kept stealing glances at Santino's sleeping form, his eyes darting that way again and again. Finally he gave up and let his hair hang loose and unbound. He stepped into a pair of boots, not bothering with socks. Then he stood at the center of the room and looked towards the window, and towards the door, and towards the bed. Marius twisted his fingers into the hair falling down across his cheeks and made a little sound of pure distress. His shoulders shook. He tried to brush away the tell-tale tears that slid, crimson grief, down his cheeks. One step towards the bed; then he turned swiftly, and almost ran for the door, wrenching it open and then shutting it behind himself with a hollow thud. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Roman Holiday 4: Vestigia fiammae Marius walked inside quickly, carrying the sweet scent of heat and tropical flowers with him. This was his home now, far from the ice and the snow. He paused once inside the door and looked around, past the hallway into the long shadowy rooms with their treasures of art and fine furnishings and precious objects, this place of wonder and comfort that he had built for himself, a safe haven, a refuge. The place that would never trap him. He waited for it to work its magic on him, to soothe his soul. He was raw, burned. Emotions churned just beneath the surface of his conscious mind and he did his utmost to keep them there, to keep everything battened down and shut away. Had his body still been mortal, the turmoil inside might have made him physically sick. As it was, he shivered, and shook, and the muscles of his back were pulled tight with nerve-thrumming tension. His footsteps echoed against the floor, its tiles perfect replicas of medieval designs, muted reds and greens and yellows in a pattern that seemed random, but pleased the eye. Leaving the entrance hall, he walked left through an arched doorway into a room where each of a row of tall windows left six neat squares of moonlight for him to walk in. Glass-fronted cabinets along the other wall held objects a museum curator would have killed for. Marius strode past them unseeing. When he finally stopped, aware that to increase his pace one more fraction would be to start running, he was in a small, square room with a floor of polished wood, its walls painted a shade between gold and yellow. He lazily used his mind to light the candles in the candelaber, small dancing flames. The flowers he had put on the low table were beginning to wither, petals had fallen to the polished surface and down on the floor, but they looked beautiful even now. Marius sighed, and looked instead at Pandora. She sat still, in the same chair. The rust-colored dress she wore was the one he had persuaded her into when they had come to this house. Her hair fell in ordered waves over her shoulders and down to her waist. The large brown eyes were open, but still and unseeing. Pandora's hands were placidly crossed in her lap where he had put them once. It did not grow less painful with time to see her thus. With all his heart Marius wished for her to rouse, to come back to life. He loved her and he was caught in caring for her. Half-remembered words whispered to him, 'You should let her go into the earth.' But then he would be alone. "Do you know what I've done?" he said to her. She didn't answer, of course. She never did. "I have... oh, gods." Marius clutched his head for one moment, certain that it was about to burst apart. "Oh dear *gods*..." Stepping forward, he began methodically to collect the fallen petals, crushing them in his hand. There were many of them, and he took them one by one. When he accidentally brushed against the table, the flowers quivered and more petals fell. Marius swore softly. He sank down to the floor, resting at Pandora's feet, not looking at her any more. Every time he moved, he could feel it. There was no forgetting, no glossing over. Marius opened his hand and let the petals scatter as they would, blowing the last ones off his palm. He rose carefully, as slowly as an old mortal man might, and walked around the room. Putting his hands in his pockets, he turned to his silent companion with the air of a teacher about to explain an intricate theory to a dim-witted pupil. "You know what vampires can do and what we can't do, don't you?" The pause, waiting for her agreement, was not very long. "You know our abilities, and what we have to give up to become what we are. The sun; food and drink... some other things. I taught you all of that. Told you." He laughed, but it was dry, humorless. Marius remembered that well enough, his long and careful explanations of what a vampire nature entailed, and Pandora's impatience and her certainty that she knew it all already. "Turns out I was wrong about a few small details. Oh yes, I've found that out the hard way. That was a pun, wasn't it?" Marius shivered. Things were getting too close to the surface now. All the way here he had made himself ignore what he knew full well. But the truth was struggling to be let out, his body was screaming with it. And if he couldn't tell her, then who could he tell? He took a deep breath and wondered what it was that had happened, if he could find any way to speak of it. Words would mean definition, would mean truth. He'd long been aware of the power of words to shape the mind's world. To speak of a thing is to make it real. And he really could find no suitable truth for this. Finally he fell back on something deliberately wrong and awkward, as if hoping that he could talk the whole event into shape and insignificance. "I've been sleeping around, Pandora," Marius grated out. "I've been--I let him--oh no oh no oh *no*--" The barriers went down that fast, as his mind raced ahead to what had really happened and started to replay it to him. He dropped to his knees in the center of the room, completely disoriented by the physical memories that hit him. Santino's hands on him. Santino--inside-- Marius cried out. He could *feel* the fire. All around. He was on fire again. Oh, it wasn't possible. He could not have done this. It wasn't true. But he could still feel it. Thinking back, he shook dizzily with vertigo of the mind. Flames licked along his skin. The beat of his heart grew faster and faster. "If you could read my thoughts, Pandora dearest, what would you think?" Then Marius shook his head, trying to clear it. There was a connection here if only he could see it. "I was trapped in the ice, I was caught in the fire but the fire won. I've been burned. Oh gods, I'm burning." He tore open his shirt and looked at his skin, expecting to see it blackened, searching for the brands left by Santino's kisses. He could feel those too, he could have said exactly where he had been touched and how, could remember every single excruciating moment of their encounter. Everything. Marius knew he would never forget. The subtle gold of the walls closed in on him, and breathing grew difficult, yet he persevered, gasping out the words. "Pandora! I never knew this could happen! Don't you see," he was frantic with the realization of it all, "I never even dreamed... that I would burn... so quickly, so completely..." The night outside the windows mocked him with Santino's eyes, Santino's voice. Every pool of darkness was shadowed with the black silk of Santino's hair. Shiver. Shake. He knew so well that he could break Santino to pieces with his bare hands. And yet he only had to--look at him-- Shiver. Shake. The smell of smoke. Something's burning. Marius struggled to his feet, tried to smooth his hair out of his eyes. The open shirt clung to him and licked with tongues of flame; he tore at it again, ripped it to shreds, desperate for air. Something that would cool him. It could not go on like this. Picking the candelaber up from the table, he looked at the silent figure of Pandora in her chair, hoping to see the faintest spark of life, the flicker of an eyelid. But she did not move. "I wonder if he was ever your lover," he said conversationally. "I never could get a straight answer about your friendship with him out of either of you." He walked to the nearest window and stroked the rich red velvet curtain with the hand that wasn't holding the candelaber. The nap was smooth under his fingers, but the sensual memories it raised were prickly. Sharp. Outside was darkness until, far below, his eyes rested on the distant gleam of water. Marius let go of the curtain, then held the candelaber to it instead, waiting to see whether the cloth would catch fire, or smother the tiny flames first. It took some little time of confused flickering, but then the velvet caught, burning slowly. He moved on to the next window, and the next. Then he set the candelaber down and tore off his shirt, and twisted it together. There was a bottle of lamp-oil in a drawer in the escritoire, and it did not take him long to construct a make-shift torch. "When I was mortal," he said, his back to Pandora, "I never let anyone do that to me. Never." He poured the remains of the oil directly onto the wall and lit it. Then he left the room and set out around the house, leaving a blazing trail of little fires. There were plenty of huge curtains, wall hangings, soft stuffed sofas and chairs that did not need much coaxing. Eventually the walls began to catch on, too, and there was that sound he remembered so well, the dull roar and the sharp crackle blending together into a terrifying whole. The library went up splendidly, crisp pages crumpling together, leather bindings cracking and bursting apart spilling yellowing paper into the fire's eager maw. His paintings burned, the few he had managed to save from the last wreckage, that had not been ruined by snow and exposure. It was all going. His sweet, comfortable home. The place where he felt secure. Nothing was safe any more; there was destruction all around him. Marius half ran to the bedrooms, setting all the bedcovers alight, tearing open closets to torch his clothes. Everything was on fire. All that red velvet. Finally he stood still at the heart of his house and listened, tried to breathe, felt the heat and the smoke that would have suffocated a mortal. His muscles were locked in rigid spasms, his skin slick with blood sweat. He breathed in quick gasps, not for need of air, but because he was crying out softly, continuously. It hurt. The flames were coming closer. Marius tensed, quivered, then broke and ran, faster than ever before, breaking down walls, tossing away furniture, until he threw himself out of a window and felt the glass slash at his skin. Cool air, a desperate leap over the balustrade, and a long, long fall down into water. He let himself sink down deep beneath the surface, sinking as he might into dreams or a lover's arms. The water held him and cradled him and soothed his hurts, eased the thunder in his ears. Marius drifted, arms outstretched, before slowly making his way to the surface again. Lying there he floated and looked up. The fire lit up the night, threw reflections of gold all across the lake. He stared up at it in awe, and then with a slow dawning of awareness that there was something he should have remembered. Just before the roof fell down, something broke though it and rose like a comet into the sky. Marius let out a brief cry. "Pandora!" But she didn't answer. So it was over and he stayed where he was, watching the spectacle for as long as he could. Nothing else was damaged; the trees around were not close enough and there was no wind. Marius knew better than to attribute this to luck, as he breathed in and filled his lungs with the acrid tang of smoke. Something was burning. And it was his heart. **** There was not very much left. Smoke still rose from the charred ruins, nearly invisible in the twilight. Some of the walls still stood, jagged, helpless now with no burden to bear. All the angles were wrong, every edge sharp. Seen like this, the space where his home had stood looked disturbingly small. Marius walked forward, picking his way delicately between fallen roof-beams and twisted metal pipes. Glass crunched underneath his feet, as did the remains of his beloved tile floor. Small clouds of fine grey ash marked his every footstep. Soon, his boots were covered with it; his pants were grey to the knee. People had been here already, but no one had ventured this far in, frightened of crashing through what remained of the floor perhaps, thinking they might find themselves fallen into a cellar or trapped beneath part of a wall. The truth was that this house had no cellar and that was one reason why Marius had chosen it. Never again the underground vaults, the long stairs leading down, the trap in the earth. He had built himself an attic cell, like Lestat's. That had crashed down fast, heavy as it was. This, he thought, bending to brush at what remained of a corner, had been the long room where he kept his collection of random trinkets. Sweeping away a layer of ash and soot, Marius smiled to see that bronze coins had melted into the marble floor. How long would that last? Would anyone ever see it, and be surprised? Or would this site be razed to the ground soon enough to make way for another splendid pleasure palace... He had no intention of stepping forward to proclaim himself alive, or to claim insurance money. He fully intended to vanish. Completely. To be, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. Having freed himself so completely from all that bound him, he felt ready to make a fresh start. When he looked at the remains of the house he thought he knew how a snake must feel, shedding its skin. Freedom, he thought, exhilarated, a new life, and then another thought followed that one too fast for him to defend against it: I'm not myself any more. It was a jarring dissonance in the paean of his euphoria. Marius stumbled, put out a hand to steady himself, and felt a sharp pain as a coil of metal wires sliced at his palm and cut it open. The scent of blood hung in the air, powerful, even as the cuts closed. He lifted his hand to his face and licked at it, wondering at his own taste. A new existence, he thought desperately, I have to free myself from all this. It can't drag me down any more. I burned it, burned it to the ground. Burned all the memories. *What memories?* When he pulled at the throat of his dove-grey polo shirt, blood smeared across it and began to soak into the fabric. Marius swore. He had come here to say goodbye, but now he could feel that the past was not done with him, no matter how he felt about it; it was coming again, to lay an insidious claim to him. His life wasn't going to let him go that easily. Marius knew exactly what he had done last night. He had set fire to his home in an attempt to exorcise the burning demons that plagued him, the twisted terror and fascination in his mind that kept returning at the most inopportune moments. He'd tried to purge himself, a trial by fire. And he thought it might have worked to some extent. When he searched inside himself for the place where the panic lived, he couldn't find it. Standing here in the ruins brought nothing more than thoughtfulness, and the occasional cough. The flames did not return to haunt him. Not *those* flames. He sifted ashes between his fingers, felt the weight of the past as no weight at all. He was lying to himself and he knew it. But it took a lot of courage for him to try to remember. Remember what he'd done and what he really wanted; remember just what it was that had made him set fire to his home. Santino. Marius took a deep breath, then coughed violently. He had to lean against the remains of the wall for support, and knew that his clothes were hopelessly dirty now. There was no release here. When he closed his eyes, his mind replayed memories of Santino's kisses. And *that* was where the panic lived. Marius felt it begin to uncoil, the mind-numbing fear, the absolute... Fascination. Obsession. And each half of it sparked the other, fed it, terror and desire dancing upwards in a widening spiral that threatened to consume him whole. The only clear thought he had was the awareness that he was *not* thinking clearly. Marius pushed himself upright and then continued the motion up into the air, rising up to breathe, to free himself of the wreckage. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew full well where he wanted to be. Back in Santino's arms again. And that thought terrified him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Roman Holiday 5: Burn baby burn A man and a woman are walking together on a terrace; she leans on his arm, clearly in need of support. It is quite dark, perhaps around midnight. He is slim, not too tall, supple and graceful like a dancer; she is sturdier, a curvaceous beauty with a long mantle of dark hair. Pandora: I am going to kill him. Eric : Which one of them? Laughter catches her unawares and leaves her coughing, and they have to stop for a moment. Pandora: Both. But Marius first, I think. He's the one who set the fire, after all. Eric : I still find it hard to believe. Pandora : *You* find it hard to believe! I find it hard to believe I'm still alive. Eric: I'm glad you came here. Pandora: It was close. It was the first place I thought of. If I'd known the world was getting this interesting I would have come to see you long ago, and asked a few pointed questions. Eric : I didn't know much... still don't, really. I had no clue this kind of thing was likely to happen. Pandora: I damn well hope so. Or I would have expected a warning. Eric: Well pardon me, but when Santino came to me to talk about his life I didn't draw the obvious conclusion that this would lead to Marius trying to set you on fire. What exactly did our little saint *say* to Marius anyway, to cause that kind of reaction? Pandora : I dont' think it was what he *said*... Eric : Oh? Pandora: ...so much as what he *did*... Eric: And what did he do? Pandora: Let's just leave it. Eric: No. Pandora: You're not going to like it. Eric: I'm already not liking it. Spit it out. Pandora: It seems they all of a sudden got very intimate. Eric : Blood brothers. Bit of mutual nibbling? Pandora : No. At least that's not what Marius said. Eric : They didn't--? But in that case-- Pandora : Eric, they made love. Like mortals. Eric: What? Pandora Eric: But that's not possible. What a bizarre idea. Pandora: Look, that's what Marius told me. And he, well, he had no reason to lie to me. He made it quite clear. Eric : What did he say, exactly? I mean what did they-- Pandora : Oh no. There has to be some degree of privacy. Eric: But I want to know. Pandora: No you don't. Eric : Oh, thank you. You know I'm going to imagine things... Pandora: Feel free. Eric : I'm sorry, Pan. They take another turn around the terrace in silence. It is clearly an effort for Pandora to move and she is taking it very easy, concentrating on what she's doing; it isn't until they are moving back in the direction they came from that she looks at Eric and discovers that he is crying. Pandora: Sweetie... It hurts, doesn't it? Eric: Like hell. Gods, Pan... She guides him along carefully, and they sit down on the same balustrade where Eric and Santino sat once. Eric is wiping at his face, trying to erase his tears. Eric: I just love him so much. Pandora : You could have told him. Before all this happened. You've had a few centuries to get round to it. Eric: I couldn't. You don't understand, I *love* him. He is so--so-- Pandora : You're right, I don't understand. They sit in silence for a while; Eric cries, Pandora rocks him slowly. Looking closely at her it is possible to see traces of the fire, particularly on her hands. Her lashes, eyebrows and hair are so perfect by contrast, it is obvious they have grown out again during the daytime. Eric: I think what I love most about him is his concentration and his sense of truth. I mean he can be a right bastard at times, and mean as hell, but he doesn't lie. Pandora : No. I think that was... burned out of him. Eric : Yes. And that's why I knew... Pandora: Knew *what*, for heaven's sake? Eric : That he doesn't, didn't, love me. I always knew that. I could take it. But when he came around and confessed how he felt about Marius-- Pandora: Wait a minute! Eric: What? Pandora: How does he feel about Marius? Eric : How do you think? It wasn't mere chance that landed them in bed together. Pandora : Santino is in love with Marius? Eric : Yes, Pandora dear, he is. Pandora : Well. That puts a new complexion on things. Eric : Pan, will you explain what you're talking about? Pandora : I thought Santino had been up to some fun and games, and just accidentally driven Marius more distracted than he intended to. Are you saying he *loves* him? Eric: That's what he told me. Pandora: Then I just may refrain from killing him after all. Eric: What? Pandora : I've never in my life seen Marius as shook up as he was then. Probably did him a lot of good. Eric: He burned down the house and nearly got you killed. Pandora: It takes more than that to finish me off. I'm not saying I won't make him suffer for this, but... Eric: He just about went crazy and you think it was *good* for him? Pandora : Well, he seems to be working through his fears in a very thorough way. Eric : Isn't that wonderful. Pandora: You don't know what a mess he's been. Eric: And you do? You're the one who's been playing statues lately, not me. Pandora : Don't go taking things out on me, laddie. Eric : Sorry. Pandora : It's okay. Eric: Anyway, I didn't know he'd been, what you said. A mess. Pandora: Oh, the worst. That man is so obsessed with presenting a perfect facade, no one has any idea what might slip through the cracks if he permitted any cracks to show. Eric : I thought he was as sensible as he seems. Pandora: He is. Eric: Wait a minute. You just said-- Pandora: So? No one has just one facet to their personality. Don't get me wrong, Marius is very sensible and level-headed. He's an intelligent, well-balanced person. Mostly. But the thing is that he has spent too much of his time being responsible for things, and he just cannot handle a situation where he isn't in control. Eric: Nobody likes not being in control. I found that out when Akasha showed up. Gods, what an idiot I must have been. Pandora : Hey. None of us wanted to die. Eric: Well, everyone else did a better job of looking heroic... So, about Marius. Pandora: He'd hate me for saying this. I love him dearly, I really do. But he needed to be shook up a bit. Eric: I still say this was a bit exaggerated. Pandora: Maybe... I won't say he didn't look like he was cracking up. But he didn't try to kill himself. Eric : Oh that's all right then. Pandora: There isn't all that much that Marius is afraid of. One thing used to be fire. Eric: I could tell. Pandora : Another is Santino. Eric: You're kidding. Pandora: No, I'm serious. He thinks I don't know, but I do. Our Santo unsettles him the worst way. Even before their recent encounter, I mean. Eric: I still want to know what they did. Pandora: Don't play the stupid innocent, Eric, you know how humans make love. Eric : Yes, but... Pandora: I can't believe you missed out on any of those experiences when you were still a mortal. Eric: It's been three thousand years, give me a break. Pandora : Okay. But just one. Eric: I don't know, I just can't picture it. Then again I don't want to. So why is Marius scared of Santino, then? Pandora : I don't know everything. Probably because he still blames Santino for the fire in Venice. Or maybe... Eric: Yes? Don't make me drag this out of you word by word. Pandora: I was thinking, if the activity is familiar to you. What I was going to say was, maybe it's because he finds Santino terribly attractive and is scared to do anything about it. Eric: *Was* scared. Pandora: *Is*. Believe me, I doubt he's even admitted it to himself. Eric: You're saying he slept with our little saint without admitting he's turned on by him? Why, *why*, when I would give a century of my life for just one night with that man, does it happen to a damn fool of a pig-headed Roman who doesn't realize how lucky he is? Pandora : I don't know, honey, but I do know the world isn't fair and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. I also know how to trot out the clichˇs, in case you hadn't noticed. Eric : Pan, I do love you. Pandora : Someone's coming. They both sit quite still for a moment, scanning for the new presence, then turn to look at each other with identical expressions of comical dismay. A few moments later, a tall, black-haired man walks out onto the terrace, looking like a whole month of Monday mornings. He comes to a stop a few meters away from them and stares out towards the sea. Eric : Nice to see you too, Santino. And when did my home turn into Grand Central Station? Pandora: Piccolo santo, you shouldn't encourage people to play with matches. Eric : Are you going to kill him now? Pandora: Depends on what he's got to say for himself. Eric: Not much, as far as I can tell. Santino : Are you two quite finished? Pandora: No. But please do sit down and tell us why you're here. Santino : I'm here to see you two. But if this is all the comfort you have to offer tonight, I think I'd be better off almost anywhere else. If you didn't want to be interrupted you should have told me to go away. Despite the hard, controlled words, it's obvious he's on the verge of breaking down; his eyes are wild, and he keeps clenching and unclenching his hands. Eric : Sit down, Santino. Pandora: As a matter of fact you're the very person I wanted to see. Santino : What did you mean about playing with matches? Pandora : Marius set fire to our home last night. I barely escaped. Santino : Oh gods no, no no no no... Eric and Pandora stare at each other for a moment. Then Eric suddenly catches on, and grips Santino's shoulders. Eric: He's not dead. Santino Pandora : Santino, *he's not dead*. Santino : I didn't think--I mean, he couldn't-- Eric : Relax, Santo. Pandora: Sorry. I didn't mean for you to take it that way. He cleared out before it got too bad. Santino : But he left you in there? Pandora Santino: Why would he do something like that? Pandora: I was hoping you could tell me. It seems you upset him quite a bit. Santino : *I* upset *him*... oh of course... Pandora : You must have. Santino: If upset is measured in terms of setting fire to things, I ought to have torched a continent. Eric : Santino, what happened? Santino: Oh nothing. Pandora: Santino, it's bloody obvious *something* happened, and Marius already told me part of it. Santino : Pan... what did he say? Pandora : That he... that you... the two of you... Santino : So you know. Pandora: Yes. Santino: But what did he say *about* it? Pandora: He was upset. Santino: You've already said that. It doesn't really matter anyway. Eric : Why not? Santino : Why should it? It's none of my business! I don't know what kind of game he was playing, but it's damn obvious I'm the one who lost. Pandora : No, wait a little, Santino. You're still in control of yourself, at any rate. Marius hardly even knew what he was doing. Santino: Oh, thanks. Pandora: When I saw him, idiot! Eric : Look... Santo. Just tell us what happened, okay? Santino : All right. I met him in San Francisco and we had an argument. He left, then he came back and... Eric : And? Santino : And we made love. It was... unbelievable. The way he gave himself to me so completely, I'd never even imagined... Santino's voice trails off and he sits staring into the darkness. Eric is looking pretty sorry that he asked; Pandora squeezes his hand supportively. Pandora: So he was fine when the two of you parted, then? Santino : I don't know a damn thing about that. We fell asleep together and when I woke up... When I woke up he was just gone, like--like it didn't mean anything at all. He didn't even say goodbye. Pandora : Well I think we can safely say that it meant something. As far as I can figure out he must have gone straight home and set fire to the house. Santino : Don't ask me. I thought he was--fine. Obviously I was wrong. Pandora: You didn't feel that there was something uncharacteristic about his behavior? Santino : You mean apart from the fact that he pounced on me, kissed me and dragged me into bed? Pandora : Point taken. Santino: Exactly. Pandora Eric : So now what? Santino : Oh, I suppose I go off and kill myself quietly in a corner. Eric: Santo! Pandora: Knock off the melodrama, please. Besides, that wouldn't exactly do Marius any good. Santino : He left me without a word and went home and lit a fire. Pan, I don't want to pry, but did he say anything...? Pandora : Well he told me what you'd done, and said he'd never done it before-- Santino: Since vampires aren't supposed to be able to do it, that's hardly a surprise. Pandora: Never. Santino : *Never*? Eric : I can't help wondering where he got the idea to try. Pandora: Not... like that, no. It seems to have meant a great deal to him. Santino: It meant a great deal to me, too. Eric : Did you hear the doorbell? Santino: No. Eric : I hope it's Jehova's witnesses or something. We could all do with some refreshments. Eric walks away and enters the house, walking swiftly through high-walled, cool rooms until he reaches a dimly lit hallway. He flings the door open impatiently. Eric: Yes? Marius : Good evening. Eric : It's the middle of the night actually... Marius! What are you doing here? Marius : I-- Eric : Please, come in. Marius: I don't know. I mean... Eric : What, Marius? Marius : Is he here? Eric: Is who here? Marius : Santino. Eric: Yes. Marius: I want to see him. Eric : Figures. I see. I'll ask him if that's all-- Marius : I have to see him. Eric: Right. Fine. Come on then, this way. They walk through the house in silence, Marius one pace behind Eric, until they reach the door to the terrace. Eric steps outside, then turns around when he realizes that Marius has stayed on the other side. Eric: Are you coming? Marius : Yes. Marius walks outside as well. Pandora and Santino are still seated on the balustrade and looking towards the door. She gets to her feet and strolls over to Eric and Marius; Santino stays where he is. Pandora: Speak of the devil. Eric, what about those books you promised to show me? Eric: I did? Pandora : You did. Eric : So I did. Pandora: I'm sure they're fascinating. Eric: Very. It's hard work being the perfect host. They leave. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Roman Holiday 6: Phoenix of my heart Santino lifted his head and looked at the man who was standing at the other end of the terrace. In the darkness, Marius was a shimmering ghost with moonlight hair. He wore a blue shirt that fitted snugly across his shoulders, and black jeans washed so often they'd turned grey, and comfortable suede boots. Very casual. Very unlike Marius. Santino waited, and finally Marius moved, walking slowly towards him. He stopped when they were barely a yard apart and stood still, forcing Santino to lean back a little in order to look at him comfortably. Marius' face showed nothing, no emotion at all. The silence that stretched between them was growing so loaded, Santino feared to break it. But finally he said, trying to keep his tone light, "Why did you leave?" That fast, Marius dropped his eyes and looked away, and Santino felt the disturbance as clearly as though it was happening inside *him*, too. Marius took another few steps and sat down on the balustrade, a little distance away. It was impossible for Santino to even try to read his mind; besides, he knew Marius was well shielded, as neither he nor Eric had sensed Marius' approach. But he could feel the tension anyway, could feel the tightness in Marius, all wound up. His hands wanted so badly to touch, to gently caress those muscles into relaxation, then into another tension altogether... He remembered it all too well, that was his curse. "I'm sorry," Marius said, to his immense surprise. "I lost my courage." Santino raised an eyebrow in mute enquiry, but Marius wasn't looking at him and finally he had to say, "How do you mean that?" "I panicked," Marius clarified. "I just felt I had to get away." "Oh, realizing that you'd made a mistake," Santino said, feeling his voice grow sharp again. "No." Despite the obvious tension, Marius sounded almost unnaturally calm. "I didn't want to admit that I had done exactly what I wanted to do." Santino blinked. He couldn't believe his ears. "You wanted..." "I wanted you," Marius went on in the same even tone. "I think I've always wanted you." Now he did turn his head and look at Santino, and Santino felt an almost physical shock. Oh, those eyes. Burning blue. Without quite being aware of it he began to move closer, leaning towards Marius, who remained still but made it clear that he was aware of this and welcomed it. Santino bit his lip. Control. He couldn't lose it again. He thought Pandora was very likely right in what she had told him before. "And do you still want me?" he asked. Marius nodded. His eyelashes fluttered, moth wings, too quick for thought. The hand he reached out shook. "Yes." Santino felt his voice grow rough and husky. "What do you want me to do?" "Take me." Marius moved closer with languid abandon. His posture, his voice, the look in his eyes all spoke of barely-repressed desire, a primal lust that could not be held back much longer. Santino felt an ache start deep inside, sweetly familiar. He had to take a deep breath and swallow before he could speak. "No." Marius' blue eyes clouded and grew dim with confusion. "What?" "*No*," Santino said violently, a bit shaken by the disgust he felt. "Who do you think you're talking to? I won't pander to those desires." "But I want you," Marius said in a low voice, nearly a whisper. Santino shook his head. It took every ounce of will power he could summon up to lean back, to shake off Marius' hands, reject his caresses. To put distance between them again. Still, he made himself speak. "You just want what I represent to you. But I'm not going to give you that." Santino rose to his feet and looked down seriously. "I want you to see me as myself. I won't fuck you just because you're turned on by what you fear most. As long as you're afraid of me, Marius, I am not going to be your lover. Is that quite clear?" By now Marius was pale with shock, and had rise as well and taken a step backwards, his lips thinning with the pain of rejection. It was all Santino could do not to reach out, to undo his words with actions and draw Marius into his embrace. He wanted to, oh *how* he wanted to. Instead he stood calmly still and just managed not to cross his arms forbiddingly. Marius wavered for a moment, hurt and anger warring in his face. Then he just twisted around, turning his back, and started crying. Santino felt his heart contract. Everything shifted and the sexual tension was gone. He took one step forward, two, then put his hands gently on Marius' shoulders. Marius was a tall man and he had to crane his neck uncomfortably in order to lean into Santino's embrace. But he did it. "Hush," Santino whispered tenderly. "My dearest darling. Sssshh, my love, it's all right. It will be all right." Marius was still shaking but it was tears now, not terror. The storm was breaking, slowly. Santino rocked him and talked soft loving nonsense, things he would never have said to anyone else, ever. He stroked the soft pale hair, kissed it, all comfort now. Every sob was like a small cut and he was trying to heal them both. When Marius straightened up much later and dried his face on a white linen handkerchief, his eyes were clear again. He looked at Santino with a slight frown. "We should talk," he said. "I mean... really talk." Looking around, he smiled a small smile. "Not here. Will you come with me?" *Anywhere*, Santino wanted to say. Instead he tilted his head enquiringly. "Where?" "Back," Marius said and stepped in close again, putting an arm around Santino's waist. The next moment they were rising into the air, and Santino clutched at Marius' shoulders. The earth disappeared and he felt utterly disoriented. :I won't let you fall,: Marius told him gravely. Santino swallowed, and closed his eyes, and tried to think of something else. But the only immediate distraction that offered itself was the fact that he was once again holding Marius very, very closely, and that disturbed him so much that on the whole he would have preferred to surrender to vertigo. Santino had no idea what would happen now. He felt somewhat at peace with himself, having turned Marius down. It had been the right thing to do. But oh, he ached for him, he was burning up inside just from thinking about it. The earth flashed past, revolving underneath them. They were going north along the coast, Santino thought, and he had as much knowledge of geography as the next vampire. It came to him suddenly that he knew exactly where they were going. Back, indeed. Then looking down turned him dizzy and he closed his eyes and buried his face against Marius, taking what he felt would be his last opportunity to breathe in deep the scent of his love, just to feel him so close. And if that made him suffer then that was just the way of things. Numb with cold, he did not mark the passing of time very clearly and could not have said how long it was before they were once again at peace with gravity. Santino opened his eyes, rubbed the frost out of his hair and looked around. Yes, this was San Francisco again. And this was the very house where he had found Marius reading in one small room. "I wonder if they've replaced the window," Marius said as if to himself. "You may not be welcome back," Santino said, teasing just a little. To his surprise Marius actually smiled. "We'll sneak in the back way, then," he said. "I did pay for two months, in advance. So I broke a window... I'll pay for it." They walked in by a small side door, up twisting stairs and through narrow corridors until they reached the right room. Marius paused in front of the door, patted tentatively at his pockets, then turned to Santino. "I've forgotten one small detail." "It's all right. I didn't lock the door behind me." Marius' eyes met his with a deeper awareness, an acknowledgment that that would not have been the first thing on Santino's mind. He turned the knob and the door opened. The room was just as it had been; the window broken, the desk overturned, the bed unmade, rumpled. "I don't remember breaking the mirror," Marius said as he looked around. "I did that. When I woke up." "Oh." Marius had walked into the room; now he turned around and regarded Santino steadily. "I know it's not enough to say I'm sorry. But I am." Santino shrugged. "You wanted to talk," he said brusquely. "To say something more than 'I'm sorry', I hope." Marius nodded slowly. He was walking around the room, avoiding the bed; Santino wondered if he even was aware of that. Finally Marius pulled out the chair, which was still standing and in one piece, and settled down on it. He wasn't nearly as relaxed as he was trying to appear, but Santino didn't think he was likely to bolt just yet. No, there really would be an opportunity for them to talk. Santino sat down on the floor, leaned back against the edge of the bed and stretched his legs out. He looked at Marius expectantly. "It was true, what I said before," Marius began. "I really have always wanted you. Probably from the same impulse that makes people who are afraid of heights climb trees. There is something about doing what you fear most that, well, turns many people on." Santino nodded softly. "It's that paradox that is at the heart of our own appeal, is it not?" he commented, keeping his tone light, almost academic. "Something to want and fear at the same time." His heart was screaming inside, but he'd be damned if he let Marius see that. So it was true, he had been used, a suitable tool for Marius' strange terrors. Santino wanted to cry. Not just because he knew now that it had been a once-only, never to be repeated experience, but because he realized that it had never been as perfect as he had thought. No meeting of equals, just Marius' fears surrendering to Santino's desire. It still made him feel sick; he'd committed an involuntary rape and believed it to be an act of love. Santino looked away from Marius. Guilt tore at him. What was once done could not be undone. "Yes," Marius agreed. "That... is how I felt." "But there's no real reason for you to fear me," Santino said, then held up his hand to stop the comment that seemed to be hovering on Marius' lips. "I know, fears aren't always rational. I'd no idea you felt like this. Only that something bothered you. If I'd known how much, I would never have... pushed, as I did, kept bothering you. I want to apologize for that." "You couldn't know," Marius said. "At least, I always did my best to keep you from finding out." "But now," Santino went on quietly, "do you still feel the same way? Because if you do, there has to be a way to... change that." Marius shrugged. "It's all right. I'll deal with it." "It's bloody well not all right!" Santino yelled before he knew he was doing it. "How do you think that makes *me* feel?" Marius sat quite, quite still and just looked at him. Then, just as Santino started to wonder if this was his night to turn into a charcoal briquette, Marius nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought of it as none of your business but..." Was that embarrassment? "...what I did has already made it your business. It was unforgivable. I hope you can... learn to disregard it." Fat chance, Santino thought. He drew his nails into his palm, trying to control memory. He would never, ever forget. Not the helpless joy he had felt then; not the helpless shame he was feeling now. Instead he said, "You've heard about aversion therapy?" To his surprise Marius laughed. "Some would say I'd already taken that method to extremes." Santino laughed, too, he couldn't help it. "Oh. Yes." He breathed, tried to calm down. "Perhaps if you beat me up, broke a few bones. It would make you realize how much stronger you are. That you've got nothing to fear." Marius jumped to his feet and stood staring down at Santino. "You're insane." "That's a distinct possibility." "What makes you think I would--" Marius turned his back and stood still, his shoulders quivering. Santino wanted to go to him, but felt it would be best to stay where he was and wait. He watched Marius clench his fists, unclench them, wondering with some detachment whether Marius was in fact contemplating taking him up on that offer. Finally, Marius turned around again. "What makes you think I would do such a thing?" "Nothing," Santino said honestly, "I just thought it might help." There was puzzlement on Marius' face. He was more open and easy to read than Santino had ever seen him before. "You offer to let me hurt you as badly as I can just because you think it would help me?" Santino looked down. "If it made you stop looking at me like the bogeyman in your own personal closet, it would help me too, wouldn't it?" Then he chided himself for being dishonest. The truth was that he felt he owed it to Marius after what he had done. Part of him wanted to suffer for it, he felt that bad. But he wasn't going to say that, this wasn't the moment for them to start discussing *his* little psychological quirks. Instead he slowly rose to his feet and walked over to the broken window, looked out at the late-night sky. It was strange to think that his life had changed so much in the space of a few nights. He had been given his heart's desire and then it had been taken from him again. Santino supposed that might account for the fact that everything looked so different. It made him feel as though he was suddenly thrust into a brand new world and he thought he would have preferred the old one. "I can't do that," Marius said behind him. "Look, I'm not sure I can..." "What?" Santino asked a little too impatiently. "Talk about this." There was something in Marius' voice that spoke of an effort, trying to put distance between them again. To re-erect all the old barriers. Santino wanted to stop that, to fight it, but he didn't know how. "You were doing fine just now." "it just feels so... absurd. Unreal." The strain was growing more noticeable. Santino turned around and looked Marius in the face. Marius was looking very uncomfortable; the same way he had always looked when Santino had prodded at him before, about different things. Santino felt an urge to protect him, but he also felt another overriding imperative, to do what would be better for Marius in the long run. So when he spoke, instead of soft words of reassurance he said, "Marius. *Deal with it.* It happened, ignoring it won't change anything." Marius wasn't looking at him any more. Fair hair was slipping free from its confining band and tumbled around Marius' face. It made him look strangely young. Santino knew just what that soft, fine hair felt like; his fingertips provided him with instant sensory memory. "I keep wondering why you went along with it." The question startled him so much that he must have sounded brusque when he answered, "Well don't." "Don't what?" "Don't wonder." Painful even to think about this. Was he ready to lay his heart bare, to explain everything... to be honest? "Santino," the sudden intimacy of hearing his name spoken almost undid him, Marius used it so seldom, "tell me something." "Yes?" "Did you mean all those things you said?" "What things?" Santino asked, knowing already. He could feel the next question, the next answer, hover somewhere over his head ready to crash down. Oh, what a night this was turning out to be. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Come on in, walk all over my soul. "When I was crying." He took refuge in flippancy, aware that it couldn't last. "Oh, those things. No, I say that to all the guys. Don't be so dense." "I am not," Marius said, speaking very carefully, "being dense. I'm trying to figure out how I feel about you." "Marius." Santino took a deep breath. "Yes." "You drive me crazy." Marius looked thoughtful. "Yes, that could be it." Santino couldn't help it, he had to laugh. So, suddenly, did Marius. They chuckled together, sharing a common emotion and it relieved the tension in the room perceptibly, making it easier to breathe. Santino felt that Marius was somehow right, it was all absurd. But that didn't mean that reality could be put on hold. So when they'd stopped laughing he took the opportunity to say what was on *his* mind, to redirect the conversation towards his own worries. "Look--I'm really sorry about what happened. I feel terrible about it." Marius' face was neutral, the laughter had vanished somewhere and only polished surface remained. Somehow he had managed to shut himself off again and bring in the polite distance that was his best weapon in any kind of emotional crisis. In his head, Santino cursed. If the closeness of shared laughter had been too much for Marius, they weren't going to get very far. "You do?" "Of course I do!" The anger was genuine, but part of him was trying to spark a reaction again, to achieve contact. "For want of a better phrase, I feel that I took advantage of you." "I threw myself at you," Marius pointed out with the same careful neutrality. "I could have said--no." "You could?" "No." Santino suddenly, suicidally smiled, letting it all shine through, including his genuine humor at the realization. "There is no way in hell that I could have managed to turn you down, Marius. I wanted you so." Marius took a deep breath and let it out again without saying anything. The mask was still in place, but there was something behind it. He took two steps away from the chair and the desk, then almost absently turned back and pulled the desk upright. Papers cascaded from one drawer and Marius picked them up. Then he turned around and pushed his hair away from his face. He was fidgeting. Santino nearly smiled. Marius, graceful and unflappable, master of the elegant yet dignified movement, was fussing like a nervous mortal. Not a sight he thought many had seen before. Of course the stubborn old Roman still looked bloody gorgeous. Nothing seemed to change that. "You did?" Marius finally said. "I wondered..." "You couldn't have *wondered*," Santino said, exasperated. "I thought I made that fairly clear, actually." "Oh yes." Now Marius did look at him and there was an intimacy in that look, an onrush of memory, a shared awareness of what it had been like. An acknowledgement of desire, though Santino couldn't tell if it was past or present. He could only hope. "I never doubted that you were, well, a willing participant. That's not what I meant." "You just thought I'd sleep with anyone, so why not you," Santino finished for him. "Well, thanks." "Do you *have* to interpret everything I say the worst way?" Marius asked sharply. "If you'd done it because you wanted to, rather than because you wanted me, I wouldn't have blamed you." Santino asked very softly, "Would you have preferred it that way?" "No," Marius sighed. "Santino, I'm trying to find a way to tell you that... I was confused and upset and I acted on impulse and then I panicked, and it was a hell of a way to treat you and I'm sorry, and could we... start over?" "What, you want to pretend it didn't happen, again?" Santino demanded. "That won't work--" "No," Marius said, "that's not what I want at all." He finally left the protection of the desk and walked slowly towards the window. His hair was hanging free, framing and partially shadowing the regular features, and there was a softness and near-insecurity in his eyes that made Santino wait, breathlessly, for what he would say next. Marius came to a halt so close that if they just leaned towards each other, they'd be touching. "I meant start over." He reached out and drew his fingertips very lightly over Santino's cheek. Santino couldn't help it, he shifted slightly under that caress, like a cat. Wanting more. Then he schooled himself into stillness. "But I told you that--look, don't make me turn you down again, it was hard enough the first time." Marius smiled at him. "You were right to do it the first time. And you're probably right to be questioning my motives now as well. It's like this... I *am* frightened." Despite the light tone, Santino could tell how much it took for Marius to be able to admit that. "But I'm not sure if I'm actually afraid of *you*--or just of how much I want you. There is something about you that just turns everything upside down for me and I fight that, I've fought it ever since we met. It was tied in with a lot of other things such as my fear of fire. That's mostly gone now. The way you make me feel, it's... I feel like I'm falling, losing control." Another soft touch. Santino shook his head and tried very hard to move away from the touch of Marius' fingers. "And you think you want that kind of surrender." He reached up and gripped Marius' wrist, carefully pulled his hand away. "No." "I want you," Marius said. "Because you do this to me, because you make me feel dizzy and excited, you challenge my security, you unsettle me. I want that. And I want *you*." Marius was looking straight at him now, and Santino thought Marius' eyes looked the way he remembered the summer sky at high noon, too blue for words. "If all I wanted was the kick of danger I'd take up sunbathing. But you, you make me feel alive like nothing else does..." Marius fell silent and slowly, slowly looked away. "I think I'm in love with you. Are you going to say no again?" Santino swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and nearly choked on a laugh that wanted to get out no matter what. "I don't think I can answer that question without sounding ridiculous," he said and then, because he was still holding Marius' wrist, he turned Marius' hand over and kissed the palm gently. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm not, I don't want to--" "Yes you do," Marius said and kissed him. Yes. He did. Santino settled into Marius' embrace, giddy with happiness, wanting to laugh out of sheer joy. At first that was all he could feel, the sensation of being back where he was supposed to be. A feeling of homecoming. And then, as they slowly pressed closer and closer to each other, the first delicate shivers ran down his spine and made him aware that it was back, the impossible desire he'd never thought to feel as a vampire, that Marius had made him aware of. Only then did he start to wonder what had given Marius the idea to even try it. But he didn't wonder enough to want to stop kissing Marius right at that moment. He didn't ever want to stop. Santino thought he would be content to just stand like this forever. Marius, however, had other ideas. Cool hands slid down Santino's back and up again underneath his shirt, fingertips tracing his spine, skipping over the vertebrae with delicate attention. Up over his shoulders, pausing to rub soothingly at all the places where tension gathered and tied muscles in knots. All the way along the back of his neck, nails scraping gently, raising a chill. And then down again, and Santino had to break the kiss after all so he could yelp when Marius suddenly pinched him. "Hey!" Marius smiled at him. "Just being appreciative." "Of course." Santino reached out again. "Come here and let me appreciate you." It felt so good, the way the two of them fitted together, the way it was when they held each other, when they kissed. But despite that, Santino knew he was holding back ever so slightly. He didn't want to do anything wrong. Last time he'd thought he was reading Marius correctly but obviously he hadn't been. Now, although he wanted this more than anything else, there was restraint, a bit of awkwardness. He bent his head to place slow lingering kisses along Marius' neck, and wondered at the fact that he felt no real inclination to bite it--not too hard, anyway. A small nibble wouldn't hurt, he thought and was pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath in response. Santino made his way down to the hollow of Marius' throat, felt the pulse against his lips. Then he slowly undid the first shirt button. :Can we please,: Marius asked, his mind voice projecting both lust and humor, :get on that bed? I never liked doing it standing up even when I was a young man.: "If you go on like that," Santino murmured against Marius' skin, "I'll start treating you like the precious antique you are." "You do that and I'll swat you across the room." Santino picked Marius up and carried him the few paces to the bed, and they melted together in a tangle of arms and legs. :Really?: Santino started to work on the next shirt button. :In that case, of course, I certainly won't try to polish your skin with kisses... all over... I thought I'd lick the dust off, but--: The images he sent along with that thought caused a return wave of desire and anticipation that sent a jolt all through Santino's body. He closed his eyes and let it carry him away. Marius kept on stroking Santino's back carefully, silently amazed at the way Santino practically purred under his hands, muscles tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing... Marius could almost imagine paws kneading at him, the occasional scratch as the claws slid out too far. No sweet domestic animal this, but it was easy to picture Santino as a big cat, all lazy muscles and deceptive languor. *A black panther?* Marius teased himself. *Oh, your imagination just loves cliches.* Still, the idea stayed with him. There was something about Santino that was pure menace. Marius wondered if his victims felt more love or more fear as they were captured in a final embrace. At least Marius knew what *he* felt when Santino held him. It was strange that the sharp edge of all feeling should be so keen, anything could cut if it was intense enough, and it was easy to get confused. Now he knew, though. Knew that he needed this for very different reasons than the ones Santino had mentioned before. Marius tugged at the black cloth in his hands. :You just had to wear a polo shirt, didn't you?: :Sorry, but I didn't know I was going to get laid,: Santino shot back, light-hearted enough but with a wealth of emotion behind that Marius wanted to explore very slowly and thoroughly. He pulled the shirt up and Santino wriggled out of it, tossing it to the floor. Marius slowly ran his hands over Santino's chest. He must have been strong as a mortal man, with his height and those broad shoulders. Now the strength was no longer an issue, but the sheer beauty of the way he was built remained, and Marius' fingers acknowledged it, sought it out. "You're gorgeous," he whispered as his lips found the hollow above Santino's collarbone, one of the most inviting places the body had to offer. Little kisses, and then his tongue traced the collarbone itself. "So are all vampires," Santino unexpectedly said, finishing with a small gasp when Marius began to nibble on his neck. "You could say that about--to--any one of us." "I could but I don't and I won't," Marius said and licked at Santino's ear lobe. :You're the one who's beautiful to *me*,: he went on, abandoning the spoken word. :You're the one I want to hold and touch and kiss and caress, the one I want to make love to until neither of us can stand it any longer.: :That could take a very long time,: Santino's mind breathed back at him, the touch heavy with longing and lust. :That's what I'm hoping for.: Only now did Marius notice that Santino had been slowly unbuttoning his shirt and was now pushing it back over his shoulders. He took a moment to free himself from the sleeves, and Santino drew one finger lightly down his chest, flicked a nipple and went on. A jolt of pain-tinged pleasure shot through Marius and he let his head fall back for a moment, savoring it. Then he retaliated, pushing Santino down on his back and laying a trail of kisses along the edge of his ribcage, then trailing his tongue up the breastbone. His mouth drew a spiral on Santino's chest, getting closer and closer, but so slowly that Santino finally hissed, "Marius, *please*!" :So impatient,: Marius teased as he reached his goal, but Santino just moaned. Marius smiled. This was so good. Better than the first time, because his mind was his own now, he was certain of what he wanted and he could let it take its time. Marius wanted to pay more attention to Santino, to learn more closely every step of his lover's arousal. :It hurts less this time,: Santino said. :Good.: Marius found the other nipple with his fingers and was delighted as Santino suddenly jerked underneath him and something that could only be described as sensory overload shot across the light connection between their minds. "Ohhhhhh... I'm going to die, Marius, I'm going to explode from this, how are you going to explain that to everyone else..." :I'll say I was conducting experiments that would benefit the whole coven and you were a brave volunteer who died in the name of science.: Santino laughed out loud, breathlessly. :What a way to go.: When Marius finally released him and leaned back a little to study the result of his caresses, Santino was flushed, his eyes closed. One hand reached out and found Marius' arm, moving softly across the tender inside in a touch almost too gentle to be really stimulating--until Santino started using his nails. Marius sighed, out loud and again with his mind, sending encouragement, urging his lover on. :Now who's impatient?: The dark undertone in Santino's voice carried through in his mental touch as well, a certain sharpness in the velvet, like a touch of lemon in a sweet dessert. Marius loved it, now that he had finally understood why it made him shiver. "Touch me," he said, the words spilling out before he knew what he was going to say. "I want to feel your hands on me, I want you to touch me everywhere..." Then Santino was holding him very, very tight and they were kissing, deep and passionate kisses, or maybe it was just one long kiss. It was hard to tell. The heat was rising. Marius knew this fire and he'd go into it willingly. Oh, he was burning indeed, and it felt wonderful. "Everywhere," Santino said into his mouth, then unexpectedly went on, :Marius, let go of me.: :Why?: he asked rebelliously. :I can't get the rest of your clothes off if you don't.: There was space between their bodies and Santino's hands were tugging deftly at Marius' fly buttons. Marius took a deep breath and rolled away, standing up to undress. Santino stayed where he was and looked, with eyes blacker than midnight and sparkling with stars of desire. Then he unbuttoned his own pants and wriggled out of them slowly and provocatively. Marius knelt on the bed and ran his hands down Santino's long legs and up again, defining this body through the touch of his hands. He closed his eyes and sought for recognition. Yes, this is right, this is the one. This is how he feels, and that's the sound he makes when I caress him like *that*... "Beautiful," he whispered insistently. "Let me touch you," Santino said breathlessly. "Everywhere." Skin against skin, it was almost too much. They pressed against each other and Santino thrust his pelvis suggestively against Marius'. Kissing again, they moved together, and Marius felt the lust build up again, still with that same sweet bite of danger, and now he knew what the danger was and he welcomed it. But he became aware of a slight insecurity in Santino, something held back, held in check. With an effort, he stopped kissing, stopped moving, and asked, "What's wrong?" Santino looked at him and then looked away. "I just want to be certain that... Are you sure you really want this?" "Yes," Marius said, and for added emphasis ground his body against Santino's. :Yes. I am sure. I want this--and this--and this--: The images he sent along with those thoughts made Santino's eyes go wide and then, when for a split second Marius wondered if he'd made a mistake in being so explicit, Santino sighed deeply. :Oh *yes*.: Long fingers pinched Marius' nipples, teasing them with pleasure and pain. :I want you, I want you so...: Marius scratched Santino's spine with his nails, grazing the skin lightly, and Santino answered by pressing against him, moaning. Letting Marius deeper into his mind, where he could feel Santino's desire. Shared like this it was all the sweeter. :Are you sure?: Marius teased. Santino sank down on his back, tugging Marius along. He seemed to consider swearing but then gave it up. Instead he caught Marius' mouth with his own. :Shut up and take me.: Marius ran his hand down Santino's side, across his hip, then shifted to kneel between Santino's legs. Tickling the inside of Santino's thigh with his nails, he had to use the other hand to hold Santino down. And then he moved his hand higher, and Santino, straining, arched his back despite being restrained. Tiny beads of blood sweat glistened on Santino's white skin. Fairytale colors, Marius found himself thinking strangely, with the black hair as well... He bent down and licked at Santino's stomach. Oh, he loved the taste of him, wanted suddenly to lick him all over. But there was no real blood lust, it didn't take over his mind. What it did was to make him want to taste everything Santino had to offer. Vampires were probably orally predisposed by nature, he decided, moving to take Santino into his mouth. The strangled scream he heard almost made him regret that, only he remembered exactly how it had felt for him, and then an insistent hand wound itself into his hair and refused to let him pull away. Marius began to feel Santino's pleasure as it washed into his mind, and it set his senses reeling. Just the sounds Santino was making were enough to drive Marius crazy. And he gradually became aware of another aspect of the mind link between them, not quite feelings, not quite words, something that could have been passion and lust and terror and yes and no and please and don't stop all at once. He didn't stop; couldn't have. This was far too fascinating. Marius was trying to stay sane, to keep his mind at least partially clear. The first time he had been completely gone, a victim of the sensations he'd discovered, abandoning himself passively to Santino's desire once he had woken it. Now he wanted to be aware, to savor this in a different way. And it was such an incredible turn-on to do this, and to hear Santino practically sobbing with lust. :Give in to it,: Marius whispered softly. :Let it take you.: To reinforce the message he slipped his right hand up between Santino's legs and carefully worked a finger into him. :You're touching me... everywhere.: Santino was barely coherent, fighting himself, fighting with the pleasure. :It feels like... not dying...the part that came after dying...: Another finger, and Santino's body bucked and quivered. :Marius, I... don't know what I... don't stop or I *will* die... yes. *yes* that's it oh god I love you I love you I--: Words failed and emotions broke through, so strong that Marius nearly lost all control himself. He clung to Santino, both of them lost, then tasted blood and swallowed. Finally all he could say was, "You are so beautiful." A ragged whisper reached him. "That felt like... having my soul dragged out of my body... with red-hot pincers." "I'd no idea you were into that kind of thing." The link between them rang with exhausted laughter. :Anything... you want. You should know that.: :And you should know what I want,: Marius answered, moving his fingers again in that same deep caress. Santino growled softly as echoes of pleasure resounded through his body. Marius felt his lover's sensations as a shadow to his own, subtly exciting. He rose to kneel between Santino's legs and put a hand on his hip, exerting gentle pressure to turn him over, but Santino shook his head langorously. "I want to see you," he said huskily. "I want to see your face when you come." Marius swallowed. Hearing it like that made him feel a touch of the terror and ecstasy from last time. He suddenly felt exposed, and vulnerable, and shocked to discover that that turned him on even more. Marius felt an icy doubt; was he able to do this, to consciously choose intimacy... then he remembered the way Santino had shared everything with him, and felt humbled. Surely he had the courage to offer himself as he was, without the pretense of madness. It's not a power game, he reminded himself. And he looked at Santino, and at the wonderful contentment and unashamed love to be read in Santino's face. He had to swallow again, to fight back the tears. Nothing had prepared him for the sensation of sliding into another's body yet again. He'd been ready for the pain, but the pleasure, oh dear heaven, it was the pleasure that made him freeze and cry out, helplessly. Santino shifted under him and took him in even deeper, and he stayed there, struggling to catch his breath. Finally they both began to move, the smallest of rocking motions, together, apart. Marius bent down for a kiss and it grew long and intense. They were so close, part of each other; if he paused to think about it he grew breathless. He knew Santino could read his every feeling and he forced himself to stay open, to share it all. :The way you feel,: he desperately tried to find words for it. :The way you make me feel... it's just...: Santino moaned, renewed desire sweeping him up and making his movements more eager. It was all too easy for Marius to fall in with that, to let his own lust set the pace. Control and restraint were suddenly the things farthest from his mind. All he wanted to do was to keep that look on Santino's face forever. It was so hot. Like last time, a fire burning and the fuel was his heart. Love burned, he was being tempered in that flame and he ached with it, and it felt so good. :More,: Santino pleaded. :Don't hold back.: Marius did not dare hold Santino any tighter. They rocked together, bodies slamming into each other now with a force and power that would have left mortal lovers crippled. And still it wasn't enough, and Marius was close to screaming; he wanted to tell Santino that he was giving everything, everything... Then he knew. He breathed in sharply. The truth his soul arrived at hurt more than this joining had ever hurt his body, and he could only hope it would turn into a deeper sweetness. Marius closed his eyes and opened himself completely so that Santino could take his mind as thoroughly as he was taking Santino's body. And he made himself say it out loud. It was a whisper, a sob, a desperate cry. "I love you." Heat coiled inside him, wound up tight. "Santino, te voglio, ti amo..." "Yes," Santino hissed, and nails dug into Marius' back. "Tell me. Say it." "I love you!" :I love you.: Whispers like flashes of lightning in the hot darkness. :Love you, want you, together like this, I can't tell where I end and you begin and I want you want you want you, don't stop...: :I can't.: Frantic for release, he struggled to surrender to it. To throw himself into the heart of this fire and be consumed by it. To give every part of himself, so that nothing remained untouched. He could feel, reaching blindly for fulfillment, just how it would shatter him. And then it did. The world cracked open and the flames rose up and took him and burned everything out of him except the pleasure. A soft cry of surprised ecstasy shot through his mind and followed him down as he fell. The steady beat of Santino's heart was the first thing he became aware of again. Marius was almost surprised to rediscover his body. He'd expected only ashes. Slowly he lifted his head and looked into black eyes rimmed with red. "You're crying." At first it was just a statement, but then he realized what he was saying, and froze. "I hurt you--" "No." Santino's fingers wound themselves lovingly into the hair at the nape of Marius' neck. "You most definitely did not hurt me. No more than love always hurts." Santino smiled. "You were beautiful." Marius looked down, suddenly embarrassed and at the same time delighted. He found himself wishing that they could stay like this forever, in this dreamlike state of contentment, minds and bodies joined. The terror he had felt at being known so closely was replaced by a realization of how it would feel *not* to be open to Santino, not to be aware of the love that held them together. "I don't know what's happened," he said. "I feel as though I belong to you more than to myself." "You love me," Santino said. "Yes, I love you!" Marius felt almost fierce. "Don't be so casual!" The hand in his hair moved in soothing caresses. "I'm not. Heaven knows I'm not... Marius." Santino tugged his head up, pulled him into a kiss. :I love you, I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I don't dare *not* believe that this is true, I don't think I'd survive finding out that it wasn't.: Marius sank gratefully into the comfort of this embrace. There was so much to share. Just moments ago he had thought he would not even survive their lovemaking. And here, where he had worried there would be only ashes, their passion burned up and consumed by itself, he found everything alive and more intense than before. "It's true," he said. "It was worth it... every moment. All the pain." "All the pain?" Santino questioned shyly. "All those years..." "Yes." Marius licked idly at sweat-slicked skin, finding reassurance in the taste, the undeniable reality of it. "All those years, and the fire and the ice, and the suffering, and the madness." "My love," Santino breathed. "Caro, mi amore..." "I wish I could undo... all the time you spent... as an outcast." "I wasn't," Santino protested. "I had friends." "You were hurt and you were lonely." Tiny little kisses on his eyelids. "I was. But it's past now. Don't obsess about it." Santino chuckled unexpectedly. "Remember that being in the grip of past events was what got you into this much trouble to start with." "Oh, you're the right person to complain, are you!" "I'm not complaining at all," Santino told him and the truth of that was undeniable. Slowly and reluctantly they separated and then lay down in a looser embrace, exchanging an occasional light kiss, a gentle mind-touch. Marius closed his eyes and reflected, with bemusement and a touch of humor, on the unlikely chain of events that had led him to this moment, and the fact that it was only through doing the impossible that he had finally found peace. Peace was in this fire that burned but did not consume. And freedom, he had found freedom in his lover's arms. For the first time since he'd been imprisoned in the ice he felt changes in himself and didn't fear them. At least... not much. :My love,: he thought in utter contentment. There were things he should do and people he must speak to, there was Pandora's forgiveness to be won, but none of that mattered quite yet. "We should cover up that window," Santino said drowsily. "In case we... fall asleep..." Marius chuckled, and shifted, moving carefully but with definite intent in the circle of Santino's arms. "Oh, I don't think we need to sleep just yet," he said. "Not... yet." The End