| 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*
Harry couldn't even begin to speculate. Yeah, it had been a fantastic kiss. Toe-curling, dick-dancing, all of the things a kiss should be. Who knew Dave had such a wicked tongue on him? And the reactions of everyone around them had been well worth it. Viggo hadn't even been able to form a sentence, which had rocked six ways to Sunday. And Sean...hell, his reaction had topped Viggo's. Only Karl's had puzzled him, and Karl wouldn't say why he was so amused. Just smiled at him and gave him a slow kiss, told him he'd see him later when they were on their way out the door. But, Harry was still wondering why Dave had really done it. Seemed completely out of character for him, for them. They just didn't have that kind of a relationship. Harry pulled up outside Dave's modest condo in Santa Monica, breathed in the salty air. Fuck, he missed the beach sometimes. He should really get down this way more often. He rang Dave's bell, waited for the buzzer to get in the building, and knocked on the door, determined to get some answers. Dave opened the door, smiling. "Come in." Harry stepped in, looking around. "Nice place," he commented, taking note of the lived-in furniture and scattered movie posters adorning the walls. "Thanks." Dave gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat. Care for a drink?" He started towards the bar. "Sure. Scotch, if you've got it." Dave nodded. He handed a glass to Harry, settled himself on the edge of a chair, feet spread apart, elbows resting on his knees. "So...guess we should talk, huh?" Harry sipped his drink, eyeing Dave. Kid looked nervous. He wondered why. It had just been a kiss. "It's why I'm here." "Right." Dave swallowed half his drink, glanced at the clock on the wall. Then at the window. Then at one of the posters. "So...what do you want to know?" "I want to know why you kissed me," Harry answered, relaxing into the sofa. "Spur of the moment thing." Dave shrugged. "You were right there in my face so I figured what the fuck." "I've been in your face more times than I can count over the years. Why now?" The question had been bugging Harry all night. "Because." Dave paused, took another sip of his drink. "We weren't fighting tonight." Good point. "Guess we'll have to not fight more often." "Sounds good to me," Dave grinned. Harry stood, walked around the room, glancing at the posters on the walls. "Audrey fan, huh?" he said, tapping on a framed print of "Breakfast at Tiffany's." "We used to be friends when I owned shares in Paramount." "Really?" Dave's eyes widened. "That's um, really cool. I've got all her movies over there." He gestured at the entertainment center in the corner. Harry continued to stroll around, sipping his drink. He'd run out of things to say but was curiously reluctant to leave. "So...where do you store your bikes?" "At a friend's," Dave said. "He's got a huge garage/workshop behind his house. I keep the Indian here and ride it; the rest are at his place." "Oh." Well, now that he'd exhausted that particular bit of conversation... Harry set down his empty glass on the bar counter with a small thump. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you tomorrow, then?" "Um, yeah, sure." Harry put his hand on the knob of the door. "Do you have to leave?" Harry turned. "No, I don't have to, why?" What the hell was going on behind those baby blues? There was a note of...desperation, maybe?...in Dave's voice. Hmm... "I just...just thought that we could talk. You know," Dave shrugged, "get to know each other better." Harry leaned against the door, crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, why would we want to do that?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Why now, after all this time?" "Well, I kinda like to know something about the people I'm kissing," Dave said, tone not quite flippant. "It was one kiss. Not a commitment." Harry's eyes narrowed at Dave's slight wince. "I'm beginning to get the feeling everyone knows something I don't here." He thought about the look on Karl's face when Karl had kissed him goodbye. The look on Viggo's... "That was a joke," Dave mumbled. He looked away. "Just thought the fighting was getting old, that's all." "Dave, look at me." Dave turned his head. "Yeah?" Harry didn't move from the door. He didn't need to. His voice filled the room anyway, even though the words were soft enough. "Tell me why you want me to stay." "Because I'd like to get to know you better." "Why?" Harry wasn't quite sure why this was so important. All he knew was he needed to know why Dave just decided, after over 80 years of tweaking him, to play nice. "Told you, I'm tired of all the fighting." Dave drained his glass and went to the bar to pour another. Fine. Harry could play this game, too. And he'd had a lot more practice at it than the baby vampire. He shoved himself off the door and strolled to the bar, deliberately invading Dave's personal space as he leaned over for his glass, barely brushing his chest against Dave's back. "Can you get me another Scotch?" he asked, breathing the words over Dave's neck. Dave's eyes widened and he stopped breathing. His fingers tightened on the bottle, nearly hard enough to break it. Fuck. Harry was...right there. All Dave had to do was turn around and... "S-sure. Not a problem." Dave winced as the bottle clattered against the glass when he started to pour. Harry leaned in a bit closer, now brushing his groin against Dave's back in a slow, sweeping movement. "You're spilling there, love." He placed his hand over Dave's, steadying the bottle. Dave closed his eyes, fought the almost overwhelming urge to lean back into Harry's warmth. His free hand gripped the edge of the bar hard enough that his knuckles were turning white. "Thanks." He wondered if his voice sounded as breathless to Harry as it did to his own ears. "Anytime." Harry slid his hand along Dave's wrist, before moving to his hip, stroking his pelvic bone with gentle fingers as he allowed his lips to touch Dave's ear. "You're a bit tense." He shivered, tilted his head a bit in an unconscious invitation. He couldn't remember how many times he'd dreamed of this. "Is it..." He stopped, licked his lips, tried again. "Is it hot in here? Because...." "I think it might be, yeah," Harry replied, running the tip of his tongue along the vein on Dave's neck, shifting his chest so he was firmly pressed against Dave's back. "Why? Are you hot?" Dave thought he whimpered, but he wasn't sure. "Yeah. Just...just a-a little bit." He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, only realizing it when the taste flooded his mouth. "Here, let me." He tilted Dave's head back to him, ran his tongue along the cut, lapping at the small drops of blood spilling over Dave's lower lip. //Feel better?// Dave gave up. There was nothing else he could do, not with Harry's body pressed so close to his and Harry's tongue licking at his lip like that. //Christ...yes.// He leaned back into Harry, parted his lips, let the tip of his tongue touch Harry's. 'Bout fucking time. Harry dug his fingers into Dave's hip, sucked Dave's tongue deep into his mouth, swallowing the choked moans coming from Dave's throat. Sweet God, the kid had a beautiful mouth, all soft lips and softer tongue, insistent, yet yielding. Potent combination. Harry rubbed his hardening erection against Dave's lower back, eased a bit of tension, as his lips laid claim to Dave's, changing angle and speed, getting different moans each time. One of Dave's hands left the bar, moved behind him to grip Harry's hip. He arched against Harry, surrendered. Harry's hand drifted along Dave's hip, found his cock, lightly brushed fingers over the hard flesh. Nice. Seemed the child was hiding all sorts of talents. "Tell me something," he murmured, pushing the collar of Dave's shirt out of the way with his teeth, running the edges of his fangs along Dave's neck. Dave groaned quietly. Harry wanted to fucking talk? At a time like this? Christ. Then fingers brushed over him again and his hips bucked. "What?" Dave was surprised he managed to get the word out. "Why..." Harry let his teeth sink briefly into the soft skin of Dave's neck "...did you..." he rubbed on Dave's inseam with a firm, knowing touch "...want me to stay?" "Because I...." Dave's eyes flew open. He tried to pull away from Harry, tried to slide from between that lovely, hard body and the bar. "I told you why." "Oh no you don't." Harry hauled him back against his chest, rested his hand over Dave's erection, his voice soft against Dave's ear. "This," Harry squeezed a bit, and Dave moaned low in his throat, "is all for me. And I want to know why you're melting under my hands when we haven't exchanged a single nice word until last week." "I'd have to be a bloody corpse to not respond to you." Dave bit his lip again, tried to force his body not to react to Harry -- to Harry's nearness and scent and touch and voice. It wasn't working. "Don't tell me you can't figure it out, Harry. Orli did." Shit. Dave squeezed his eyes closed. "What does Orli have to do with this?" "Nothing," Dave said quickly. T"I just...nothing." "Good fucking God, Dave, what is it that's so bad?" Harry turned Dave around, tilted his chin up with a thumb, fingers framing Dave's face. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, voice gentle. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay." Dave laughed, the sound short and bitter. "No, it won't. Believe me when I tell you that you won't care. And if you do," he shrugged, pulled his eyes from Harry's, "you won't like it." Harry kissed Dave's forehead, the gesture soothing. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that." "I'd rather not humiliate myself, if you don't mind." Harry suppressed the urge to growl...but just barely. He dropped his hands from Dave's hips, took a step back, surprised a bit at how he instantly missed the contact. "Don't do this. Please." "Don't do what?" Dave leaned back against the bar, tipped his head back, looked at the ceiling. "Of all the scenarios I've pictured over the years, Harry, this most certainly was not one of them." Harry frowned, brushed a stray strand of hair back from his forehead. "All of what scenarios?" "Me." Dave lowered his head, his gaze on Harry unwavering. "You." Harry blinked, sucked in his breath at the look of raw longing on Dave's face. Oh. "Fuck me," he breathed, shocked almost beyond words. "I never..." "Never knew. No one did." Dave straightened, moved away from the bar. "Well, no one did until your pet arrived on the scene." He glanced at Harry. "You weren't supposed to know." For some inexplicable reason, those soft words pissed Harry off. He watched Dave move around the room with narrowed eyes. "Why the fuck not?" "Because you've been with Karl for over 800 fucking years, that's why not," Dave snapped, whirling around, glaring. "And now you've got his pet, too. How the fuck was I supposed to compete with that?" Harry laughed, the sound genuine and rich. "Jesus, Dave..." he chuckled, shaking his head, his sudden anger forgotten "I forget how young you are sometimes." He crossed the room, pulled Dave into his arms, ignored Dave's slight struggle. "You're not supposed to compete with them," he said, resting his chin on Dave's hair. "That's not how it works." "Yes, well..." Dave stood stiffly. "It would have been senseless of me to say anything when you've obviously had eyes only for Karl as long as I've known you. And let's not forget the fact that you made your extreme dislike of me pretty plain for everyone to see." Harry tilted Dave's head up, waited until their eyes met. "Listen well, child, because I'm only going to tell this to you once, alright?" "Alright." "First off, you started this antagonism between us. If I remember correctly, I was nice to you on your first day on the job." Dave nodded. "I remember everything you said to me that day," he said softly. "And after...well...I just wanted..." "I'm not finished," Harry said, with a small shake of his head. "Second, I haven't had eyes for only Karl. I recently lost a daughter, Dave. Where do you think she came from?" Dave's eyes were wide. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't know." "I know you didn't. My private life, except for Karl, has been just that. Private. But I loved her, I loved her mother. I love Karl. And yes, I've grown to love the young Orlando. But that doesn't mean there isn't room in my heart...or in my bed..." Harry emphasized "...for more. You gained nothing by not saying anything. I never wanted us to fight all the time." Dave blinked rapidly. Was Harry saying what he thought...? Sweet Jesus, this could not possibly be real. He was dreaming again. Had to be. Harry Sinclair was not standing there, telling him that he...that they... Dave's hand moved, pinched his arm hard enough to draw a wince. "Oh." He couldn't think of a single thing else to say. Harry bent, kissed the small red mark on his arm. "Why the hell did you do that?" "Making sure I wasn't dreaming." "Well, you're not, so stop injuring yourself." Harry closed the small distance between them. "Now," he said against Dave's lips, "you want to try telling me again why you wanted me to stay?" "Because," Dave whispered, hardly dared to breathe. "I...I want you..." "And..." Harry prompted, nipping at Dave's lower lip. "And..." He closed his eyes, voice was the merest whisper as he said, "I love you." |