| Title: Denial Series: Chosen Author: Brenda Pairing: Harry Sinclair/Karl Urban Rating: NC17 Summary: Karl wants something Harry can't give him. Disclaimer: Vampires still don't exist. And I doubt Harry & Karl were around in the Middle Ages. But, you never know.
"But – but –" The scribe stammered words of protest as he looked helplessly at Karl. "It's alright." Karl's smile was clearly meant to put the boy at ease. "You can come back and finish up later. Apparently my Captain has some rather imperative news." Harry didn't move as the scribe hurriedly made his way out the door, practically slamming it in his haste. Karl continued to sit at his desk, hands clasped together, as he leaned back, regarded Harry out of curious hazel eyes. "I take it this isn't a social call." "You moved my things to your chambers," Harry ground out, barely trusting himself to speak. The need to cross the room and beat Karl was beyond tempting. But Harry wasn't a stupid man. He didn't have a vampire's agility, strength, or quickness – no matter how skilled he was at combat. "Ah – that." "Yes, that." Harry spat out the word. "How dare you presume, my Lord, to move me from my quarters?" "Well, Christ, Harry, you spend every night in my bed – I thought I was simplifying things," Karl exclaimed, chair scraping across the wooden floor as he stood. Harry's spine tensed. "We agreed not to speak of that." "No, you agreed. I did it to keep you happy." "Well, I am not happy now." "I can see that," Karl pointed out mildly, gesturing at Harry's loose grip on the hilt of his sword. "I want my things moved back." "I can't do that." "What do you mean, you can't?" There was something entirely too smug about Karl's countenance. "Just that. I promised the room to Queen Eleanor's lady in waiting – she arrives tomorrow to oversee the jousts." "Then find me another room." "What in God's name is so wrong with sharing mine?" Harry refused to answer. Karl knew very well why – they'd had the argument often enough. Harry cursed himself again for his weakness where the vampire was concerned. Every day he told himself he'd be strong. He wouldn't seek out Lord Urban's bed – or the shameful pleasures he found in it. And every night he failed. Every night found him outside Karl's chamber doors, waiting for entrance, damning himself with every breath. The last few months had been awash with carnality and sin. Harry knew he would never be cleansed. He couldn't even go to Mass anymore, had been unconfessed since he'd lost that infernal bet. Couldn't beg forgiveness for a sin he knew he'd commit again. "I'll go sleep in the stables, then," Harry finally said, noting with satisfaction that Karl was now frowning. "You're being stubborn and unreasonable, Harry." "And you're being autocratic and despotic." "I AM a bloody autocrat!" Karl shouted, graceful body coiled with tension. "And I'm ordering you, as your liege, to stay with me." "Fine." Harry had to struggle to maintain his composure. This was what he'd been afraid of since the beginning – that his body would no longer be enough. "But listen carefully, my Lord." He waited until Karl was completely focused on him. "As you well know, I sleep light. And, from now on, I sleep armed. I know I can't kill you, but if you touch me again, I will make you suffer." "You can't mean that." "I can and I do. You can force me to stay with you, but you can't force me to be your whore." Almost instantly, Karl was in front of him, eyes flashing, body vibrating with rage, the heat of him shimmering out in waves. "I don't ever want to hear you call yourself that," he hissed in a low voice. "Why not?" Harry held his ground, met Karl's gaze with steady eyes. "It's what I am. Lord Urban's whore. His unnatural, defiled whore." Karl flinched at the words. "Who speaks such slanderous words against you?" Harry sighed, pushed his hair off his forehead with a careless sweep. "It's not important." But Harry could see it was important to Karl. The vampire looked ready to murder on his behalf. He stepped in closer, laid a smooth hand on Harry's cheek. "I could give you protection. You know I could." Harry fought not to sink into the gentle touch. It was so hard to remember sanity and morals when Karl was this close to him. "We've had this discussion. My answer is still no. I'd be your eternal whore, then." "You'd be my pet," Karl argued, running a finger down Harry's tunic. "Protected, cherished, claimed." "I can protect myself, I cherish my freedom, and I am no man's property. Not even yours," Harry stated. He was so weary of this, tired of the endless arguments, the fighting. Bad enough he'd given Karl his body – must he try to take his soul, his free will? They were all he had left. "If you honor me as both a warrior and..." Harry stumbled over the next word "...lover, do not ask me again." Karl nodded, stepped back. Harry refused to miss the loss of those hands on him. "How comfortable is it in the stables, do you think?" Karl asked, running his hand along the heavy oak of the desk, peering at Harry through lowered lashes. "I don't know." What was going on behind those hazel eyes? "Guess we'll find out." Guess we'll – "What?" "I can't sleep unless I'm next to you. I go where you go." It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to make a scathing remark, and leave. But he made the mistake of looking into Karl's eyes. Karl was serious. He'd follow Harry into the stables, give up his bed if that was what Harry wanted. Christ. He couldn't force his feet to move. "Please don't do this," he begged, not sure exactly what he was begging for. "Don't do what?" Karl took a step back in, cupped Harry's unshaven chin in his hand, eyes searching. "Don't admit the truth, don't admit my need for you knows no bounds, don't admit I have no pride when it comes to you?" Karl leaned into Harry's lips, chest barely brushing, and Harry felt the heat echo straight to his toes. "I will take whatever I can of you," he whispered, breath tickling Harry's lips. "Whatever you're willing to give." A soft kiss along Harry's jaw. "As long as you don't ask me to give you up." "Karl –" Of its own volition, Harry's hand wrapped around Karl's waist, pulled him in closer. He had not the strength to resist the heat of that body, the dark promise in those eyes. "This is madness," he breathed, already dizzy from the heat, the heavy scent of Karl inundating his senses – sex and sin, clove and corruption – a scent that haunted Harry's every waking moment. "Then embrace it." Karl brushed every word against Harry's lips, pressed his chest, his thighs, closer. "Let yourself go." No will... With a soft groan, Harry pressed his lips against Karl's, took the invitation to slip his tongue inside the warm, wet recesses of Karl's mouth. The taste exploded across his own mouth, raced down his nerves. To his dying day, he would crave this. Madness, yes – but of the sweetest, most insidious kind. Harry ran his hands through the silk of Karl's hair, tongue questing, taking, demanding. And Karl gave back, pressed in, his mouth igniting tiny pulses in Harry's body. Consumed and fulfilled – Harry only felt like this with Karl. Shameful, yes. But true. His own personal cross to bear, but he would bear it as long as Karl existed. "Let me prove myself to you." Soft brushes of lips across Harry's jaw and neck. "Anything you want." Nimble fingers unlacing the front of Harry's tunic. "Use me. Take me." Harry sank into the touches and kisses, allowed Karl to draw off his shirt. Karl ran hands down his chest, curled fingers in the dark hairs. Couldn't say no – could never say no. Wanted everything Karl was offering, wanted it with a passion that terrified and excited him. "We – we can't..." "I hate hearing that word from you." Karl took a step back and, before Harry even had time to mourn the loss of Karl's touch, drew his shirt over his head. Boots and leggings shortly followed, and Harry's breath caught, as it always did, at the sight of Karl's naked, leanly muscled body. Cream skin and coiled, quiet grace – he was so beautiful it hurt Harry's eyes. But he could never force himself to look away. "Take me. I'm yours." Karl glanced down, ran a casual hand down his chest, stomach, lightly stroking his cock before letting it fall to his side. "This body is yours." Harry was swimming in fog; he couldn't breathe. His eyes were riveted to the erotic sight in front of him. He reached out a trembling hand, ran callused fingers over muscle and skin, parted soft hairs, felt the heat singe him, sear him. Karl watched through hooded eyes, stood completely still – and the thought of having this man under his complete control annihilated him. "God help me, but you are my weakness," he murmured, closing the small distance between them. "That's funny, because I always feel my strongest whenever you are near." Harry knew he should be immune to such honeyed words – he'd used them often enough in the past with the various ladies of the court. But he was only human. And Karl was too much for any mortal to resist. Lips slid over each other in quiet supplication – each taking and giving, seeking and finding. Harry pressed Karl's chest against his, wanted the heat and firm muscles under him, trembling for him. He wanted to make Karl scream with pleasure, wanted to make him beg. The power, the craving, astounded him. How could he have ever thought he was stronger than this, stronger than fate? "I offer myself to you." Soft words – promising, tempting – were whispered along Harry's throat. "I will take you, then, take this gift." God help them both, but Harry could no longer deny his heart, nor his blood. He laid Karl on the desk, scattering paper, quills and ink to the floor, following with his own body. Karl stretched under him, guided Harry's hand to his opening, pressed their fingers against the tight ring of flesh. "I offer myself to you," he repeated, locking his eyes with Harry's. Oh...oh. Oh. Harry's eyes widened. They'd never...he'd never...not even with...was such a thing even possible? "But, I don't..." "Just go slowly," Karl said, guessing Harry's thoughts. "And it would help if you were to break off a piece or two of that plant at the window." Plant at the window... Harry got up and walked over to the windowsill, fingering the thick green leaves in trepidation. "I've never seen a plant like this. What does it do?" "It's called aloe vera. Take a leaf and break it open." Harry did as he was bid, and a thin film of clear liquid ran over his fingers. He brought them to his nostrils, inhaled the clean tang, tasted the tip of one finger. "Tastes vile," he remarked. "Smells nice, though." "You're not supposed to eat it," Karl chuckled. "The gel is a soothing agent – it's good for burns." "How did you come by this?" "My mother was a healer." Ah well, that explained quite a few things, actually. Harry had never seen a healthier retinue of soldiers and servants in any demesne. Harry broke off a couple of leaves, brought them back to the desk, tried to control his erratic breathing at the sight of Karl laid out before him, all sensuous, lithe elegance and power. "Those need to go." Harry glanced down at Karl's statement, smiled. "I suppose they do," he said, and quickly removed his own leggings. He stood before Karl, naked, vulnerable – and aroused. The thought of what Karl was asking him to do... "Come here." It was a throaty purr, brimming with dark promises – and Harry was caught in its thrall. He crawled back on top of Karl, brought their bodies into full alignment. "Now –" Karl linked their hands together again, brought them back to the puckered flesh between his cheeks. "You're going to have to prepare me," he explained. "Use the plant to moisten your fingers, then slowly push them inside me. Like you would a woman, only this will be tighter, won't give as much." "How do you know so much about this?" Harry grumbled, as he broke open a leaf. Clear liquid leaked out on his fingers. He brought them back to Karl's small opening, gently pushed his index finger inside, marveling at the tight heat. Karl's trademark smirk was strained as he twisted his body into Harry's finger. "I wasn't a monk before you were born, Harry..." Harry cut him off. "I don't want to know," he stated, moving his finger, twisting and turning, opening the tight walls. "I wasn't going to – Jesus!" Harry smiled at the stunned look of pleasure on Karl's face. Some things were universal... "Liked that, did you?" "How did you know that was...Sweet Mother!" Karl jerked again as Harry brushed over the nub of muscled tissue, rubbed it gently before pulling his finger out. "I also wasn't a monk before we met. And women have that secret spot, as well," Harry said, bruising Karl's lips in a fierce kiss. He coated his cock with more of the clear gel, glided it on with slick fingers. "This is going to hurt you, isn't it?" he asked, with a small frown. "Probably." Karl shifted again, fingers brushing over Harry's cock. "I want this. I want the pain. Please." Harry fought not to close his eyes at the look of raw longing on Karl's face. "Please – don't beg." Harry didn't want Karl to beg for him, didn't want Karl to be weak. One of them had to be strong. "Your body is mine," he breathed, lips sliding over Karl's as he pushed in, felt muscled walls close around him, flesh give, skin tear. He stilled when Karl winced, fists clenched by his sides. "I've hurt you." "No." Karl's eyes flew open, hands moving to Harry's hips, holding him in place when he started to pull out. "I'll be alright." He leaned up, softly kissed the corner of Harry's mouth. "Supposed to hurt the first time." Harry had begun to slide in a bit more, stilled again at Karl's softly delivered words. "But, I thought – " "I know." Karl started moving Harry's hips – small, delicate – each tiny movement sending shockwaves of pleasure zinging through Harry's body, his blood. "I didn't think you'd do this if you knew..." Only him. Harry blinked, then gathered Karl in his arms for a soul-searing kiss, pouring every unnamed emotion into it. "Thank you," he whispered, sliding the rest of the way into tight muscle, flesh that singed. Both sighed – in pleasure and pain – when Harry started thrusting, slow and long, each push and counter-push meant to wring out each ounce of satisfaction. "You feel so..." Harry couldn't complete the sentence; instead, he licked the line of sweat from Karl's neck, rubbed damp chests together in slick friction. "More." Karl cupped the back of Harry's neck, groaned again when Harry bit down on a bit of salty skin, nibbled a strong shoulder. "Take me." Rubbed his lips over Harry's. //I am yours.// His. Dangerous thought. Much too easy to think like that, to think of Karl in the possessive. Harry knew better. He was mortal, male, independent. He'd never be Karl's. Karl would never be his. One day, Karl would tire of him – or he would die, and Karl would move on. This was all he'd ever have. And so he would savor it. Savor Karl's every moan when Harry hit that small bundle of nerves, igniting each pleasure point. Savor the slide of slick skin on skin. Savor Karl's fingers twined with his, the grip bruising each time Harry hit a nice rhythm. Harry's tongue played with Karl's, and he could feel his body tighten, knew he was close. His thrusts became erratic, short, frenzied. "Need," he gasped, biting on Karl's lower lip when Karl clenched around him. "Then take," Karl commanded, arching into Harry's every movement. "Break me." Break – oh God. Harry buckled, shuddered, breath harsh on Karl's neck, orgasm sweeping through him like a tidal wave, overwhelming everything in its path, the pleasure so intense Harry could see black spots pulsing behind his eyelids. Fangs grazed the vein on his throat and Harry tilted his neck, inviting, needing what was to come. The instant Karl struck, Harry was transformed, reborn, remade. Shaped into something dark, throbbing with sensuousness and desire. Blood rushed, raced, was sucked out by a greedy pair of lips, a soft tongue lapping at the tiny punctures – and the insane rapture of it was more than Harry could bear. Aftershocks shook through him with delicious fire, and he dimly heard Karl's hoarse shout of release, felt the splash against his stomach – sticky and hot on heated skin. Karl withdrew his fangs, licked the small wounds closed, and Harry collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, gasping in great lungfuls of air. Sanity, reason, breath – all returned to him in slow degrees, helped by soothing hands on his back, murmured words in a language he didn't recognize in his ear. "Jesus," Harry managed to get out, lifting himself up, gazing down in Karl's satisfied eyes. "We'll need to do that again very soon." Karl smiled, stretching under Harry's body like a purring cat. "You've really never...?" Even now, Harry couldn't wrap his brain around the concept. "You're the first." Karl kissed the hollow of Harry's throat. "And the only, if I have anything to say about it." "Karl, I can't..." And, for the first time, Harry wondered why he couldn't. "I know," Karl replied, fingers gentle on Harry's cheeks. "You don't have to say anything." Harry nodded, throat closed with that same indefinable emotion. His kiss this time was soft, soothing – a gentle slip and slide of lips together, tongues lazily exploring. "I'll have your things moved to another chamber as soon as one becomes available." Karl smiled when Harry just stared at him. "I'm sorry. I was presumptuous." "Yes, you were," Harry agreed, tone mild. "And I thank you for the apology." His next words were low, each one drawn out. "You don't have to seek out another chamber for me." Karl's eyes searched his. "You don't – " "I want to," Harry interrupted. And realized it was true. He did want this – whatever this was – for as long as he could have it. Karl's smile was brilliant, lit his features with a glow that was close to painful. "Alright." It wasn't much. But it would have to be enough for both of them.
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