| Title: Consorted Authors: Jo & Brenda Series: Claimed, part 3 Pairings: Karl Urban/Orlando Bloom/Harry Sinclair/David Wenham; (Sean Bean/Dominic Monaghan; Viggo Mortensen/??) Rating: NC17 Summary: New vamps, new pets...and, yeah. All of the old fave vamps & pets, too. Plus, Elijah goes on a date. *grins* Disclaimer: Vampires still don't exist. And we doubt any of these things ever happened. But, you never know. Author's Notes: As ever, you guys all rock. We are humbled & thankful that so many of you love these guys as much as we do. We hope this last part entertains. *mwah*
Dave put his hand to his stomach, tried to calm the butterflies. Jesus...he'd known Harry for the better part of a century, had wanted him just as long. It was just a simple conversation, something he did all the time. Except...this was Harry. Standing with Karl and Sean, speaking animatedly about something, hand resting lightly on Karl's back. Did Karl ever stop to think about how lucky he was? Did he even know what a precious gift Harry's love was? Well, maybe he might, after the last few weeks. Dave took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked to the group. "Hi." The other three vampires faced him, Karl and Sean smiling, Harry with a small frown on his face. Oh boy. "Dave, good to see you," Karl said, and his smile was warm, open. Friendly. Odd, that. "Dave. I see Vig let you out of the dungeons for a bit," Sean replied. Dave rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you know how the old cunt is. Thinks it's my job to look after things for him." Karl and Sean laughed. Harry continued to stand there, frown still worrying his lips. This was going to be...bloody hell. He couldn't do this. "Sean, didn't you say we had a few questions for Marcus?" Karl asked, staring at his friend with an unreadable expression. "I did? Oh, I did, yes, you're right, I did," Sean nodded, when Karl frowned at him. "Right, let's go do that, shall we? Talk to Marcus." What the...? Dave could only watch in bemused silence as Sean walked off, and Karl moved to follow him. //Just relax.// Dave jumped a bit at hearing Karl's voice inside his head, stared at the other vampire, who was giving Harry a soft kiss. His eyes, however, were firmly fixed on Dave. //He already thinks about your lips...use that to your advantage.// A fleeting smile and Karl was gone. Dave stared after them for a minute. What the fuck had that been about? Karl offering him advice? And Harry thought about his lips? No way in hell. Karl had to be blowing up his skirt. Without thinking, Dave licked his lips and glanced at Harry. "Guess they were in a hurry." Okay, maybe Karl hadn't been. Because Harry had definitely looked at Dave's lips. Just a brief glance, but...whoa. "Guess so," Harry shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. Well, now...maybe there was some potential there. Dave propped one hip up on the table, hoping the butterflies would go away soon. Yesterday, preferably. His tongue slid along his bottom lip again, and he had to fight the urge to smile. It helped that he didn't have the first clue what to say. Maybe small talk? Worth a shot. "So how've you been?" Dave almost winced at the inane question. "Fine." Harry looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. "You?" "Good." Dave nodded, tried to be casual. "As good as can be expected when working with Vig." "Still don't know how you do it," Harry smiled, shaking his head a bit. There was that smile again. Just curling up the corners of his mouth, but Dave had the insane urge to crawl up that muscled body and latch onto it. Jesus, he needed to get a hold of himself. He grinned, shifted so he was leaning fully against the edge of the table, hands behind to brace his body. "It's a secret," he said. Then he tipped his body forward, looked around as if checking to make sure no one was listening. And whispered, "I just picture him naked. Usually end up fighting not to laugh at the wrong times." Harry's laughter rolled right over him, through his body in a hum of pure energy. Bloody hell. "Viggo naked..." Harry had to stop, still chuckling, body almost shaking with mirth. "Christ," he finally said, when he got himself under control, wiped his eyes. "That's just...fucking perfect." Fuck all, but he'd made Harry laugh. Him, Dave Wenham. God, that was a heady thought. Okay, now don't get cocky. Play it cool. "Started doing that ages ago," he said with a tiny shrug. "It works best if you can keep a serene look on your face. Drives the old man nuts trying to figure out what's going on inside your head. You should try it next time he starts." "I'll have to remember that." Harry was still grinning as he spoke, and the husky tone wrapped around Dave until he could almost imagine there was no one in the room except for the two of them. "So, um...Orli tells me you're into bikes. I didn't know that." Dave blinked, then almost laughed. Leave it to the kid to stick his nose in it without sticking his nose in it. "Yeah, I've got a couple. Just a side hobby at the moment, but it keeps me busy." "What do you have?" "Um..." Dave had to stop and think for a minute. "Right now, I've got a '41 Indian and a '43 Panhead, but restoring that's going a bit slowly." "You've got a Panhead?" Harry asked, surprised. "Restoring it?" Dave shrugged. "Yeah, when I can work on it. Vig keeps me pretty busy." Was he actually having an intelligent, mature, civilized conversation with Harry Sinclair? Christ. "And I want it to be perfect, so..." "I'm restoring one, as well." Harry rocked back on his heels, looked a bit stunned. "All original work, and the exhaust has been a bitch to find." "I know a guy," Dave said slowly, unconsciously leaning towards Harry, "who might be able to help you with that. Found me one a couple months back in great condition." "I'll have to get his number from you then." Harry smiled at Dave again. "Thanks." "Anytime." That smile. It was, Dave decided right then and there, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That smile did something amazing to Harry's face, did something Dave couldn't even begin to describe. He licked his lips, tried to think of something to say, anything to keep Harry there and talking to him. "Orli, um...said you had quite a collection yourself." Harry shrugged, the motion drawing attention to broad shoulders. "A few yeah. About a dozen, in various stages of restoration." Dave reluctantly pulled his eyes away from Harry's chest. "Maybe I could help you." Oh, fuck...had he just said that? "I mean, I've got a couple friends who deal in original parts," he added in a rush. Harry cocked his head, brushed a stray bit of hair back behind his ear. "You're being friendly." It sounded almost like an accusation. "I'm sorry. You don't like it?" Dave asked, grinning. "It's a new tactic I'm trying. Killing my enemies with kindness. Figured I'd test it out before I went public with it." "Didn't know we were enemies," Harry replied, somewhat thoughtfully. "Always thought of you as an extra sparring partner when Karl wasn't around." He did? Well now, that was interesting. A sparring partner, huh? Dave rubbed his chin. "So who better to try it out on? You already know all my tricks." Okay, maybe not all, but the ones Harry didn't know, Dave was more than willing to show him. "Somehow I doubt that," Harry murmured, rocking back on his heels again. "Why did you spend the night with Orli after Sean and Dom's party last week?" Whoa...so he knew about that? Dave wondered just how much Orlando had told Harry about what they'd talked about. "Poor kid seemed like he needed a friend that night." "His own fault." "Yeah, well," Dave shrugged. "It was partly my fault he got himself in to that situation, so the least I could do was keep him company." Harry frowned again, tipped Dave's chin up with a blunt finger. "How's that?" "How's what?" Oh fuck, what had he said? Dave searched his memory and almost groaned. Hell, of all the damn things to say.... Harry's finger stroked over Dave's chin almost absently. "How was that your fault?" Dave fought not to lean into the caress as his eyes started to close. "Um, we fought...actually, it was more of a...a...disagreement. About something. Silly, really." "About?" Dave almost whimpered at the soft question breathed against his ear. Was it his imagination or was...no, Harry'd definitely moved in closer. The heat coming from his body was almost unbearable. Bloody hell. "Wha...oh. Um...about...I don't remember now," Dave stammered. His hands curled into fists, his body almost shaking from the overwhelming urge to touch Harry. "It was...was something stupid." "You can tell me." That voice was going to kill him. Just...kill him. Low and intimate, with Harry's breath ghosting right across his ear. Dave gulped, tried to rein in his racing heart, tried to control his breathing. "I, um...." No way in hell could he talk with Harry that close. Fuck, he couldn't even think with Harry that close. What the hell had they been talking about, anyway? Harry leaned slightly back, and Dave knew he could simply get lost in those eyes...not quite brown, not quite brandy, just simply... Fuck it. With a small sigh, Dave closed the distance between them and touched his mouth to Harry's. It was like touching a live electric wire. Sparks of heat shot through Dave's body in tiny shocks. He shivered into Harry's lips, brought his hands to bunch the jacket of Harry's suit, holding him still. Just needed...yes. Tongue sliding into Harry's mouth and...oh God, Harry sucking on his tongue. Heat, so much of it, pouring off of Harry in waves, as Harry slanted his mouth over Dave's, framed his face between those rough hands, and took. Dave willingly surrendered all control, didn't care, didn't want it, didn't need it. Only wanted this, only wanted Harry's mouth on his, fangs nibbling on his lower lip, driving him insane. Only wanted Harry's hands on his jaw, fingers gently sweeping, only wanted that hard chest pressing him into the table. Dave opened his mouth wider, desperate for more. Sucked back on Harry's tongue, clutched Harry's body, melted into him. Oh, fuck, this...his taste, this smell, this...all of it. He wanted to crawl inside Harry's mouth and spend the next century or two there, running his tongue over every inch of it, wanted to run his tongue all over Harry, wanted to touch Harry, be touched by Harry. All that slick heat and delicious taste -- Dave wanted it all. He was greedy and he didn't care; he wanted more. He smoothed his hands up Harry's chest, finally gripped those shoulders, and moaned again in Harry's mouth, felt the reverberation race through himself, echo into Harry. Dave groaned in frustration when Harry finally lifted his head, made a move to capture Harry's lips again, was stopped by Harry's hoarse question. "What the fuck was that all about?" Dave's eyes flew open and he stared at Harry. Oh fuck. He had just.... And Harry...bloody hell. "That was...um," Dave paused, dismayed at the sound of his own voice. "Well, it was...you...I..." "I know what we were doing, love," Harry interrupted, hands continuing to move along Dave's jaw. "I just want to know why we were doing it." Dave's brain didn't seem to want to work. Had Harry just...he had. Harry had called him 'love'. One tiny little word had succeeded in scrambling what few brain cells had escaped the kiss. "Because it felt good?" "Yes, but you don't like me, remember?" Dave was surprised he could form a response. "Well, you don't like me either, right?" "I didn't start this," Harry reminded him, eyes still warm, still smiling a bit. He leaned in again, brushed his lips across Dave's cheek. "If you did this to shock the Council, I'd say you succeeded." "Oh shit," Dave mumbled. He was positive his face was bright red. The Council. Fuck...how many had been witness to... No, Dave was not going to think about that. Harry laughed, brushed his knuckles once again across Dave's jaw before stepping back. "I think Vig's about to have a heart attack, and Karl and Sean don't look too far behind," he observed, looking past Dave's shoulder. "Probably shocked you didn't bite my tongue off," Dave muttered. Fuck. He'd just made a bloody spectacle of himself in front of the entire Council, at least two of whom, he was positive, knew about his feelings for Harry. Harry glanced at him, lips curving. "Well, to be honest, I was having too much fun with it to do that." "Really?" Dave's eyes were so wide they were nearly round. Harry couldn't have meant that the way it sounded. No way in hell. "Mmm." Harry nodded, traced his thumb across Dave's lower lip. "We've got about twenty seconds before the others get over here. You want to tell me the truth about why you did this?" "We'll talk about it later," Dave murmured as he stepped back and straightened his jacket. "At my place. Or...or yours. Or somewhere. Just not here." Harry gave him an enigmatic look, studied him for a moment. "You'll be more comfortable at your house. After Council?" "Yes, fine." Dave nodded, the movement jerky. He glanced at Harry, and his eyes quickly slid away. "What?" "Nothing, just...." Dave made a vague gesture at his own jacket. "You're wrinkled now." Harry tapped Dave on the chin. "I can think of worse things, child." Dave's mouth fell open and he stood there. He was still staring at Harry seconds later when the others strolled up. |