Weary Memory

Weary Memory Elizabeth Jewell All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2005 Elizabeth Jewell

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ISBN (10) 1-59596-356-1

ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-356-7

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Editor: Maryam Salim

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Weary Memory Working for a vampire, Alex has discovered, is nothing if not interesting. He’s spent the last six months fetching and carrying to places in the city he didn’t even know existed, to and from creatures he thought were only myth. Including his boss, who can grow inch-long, razor-sharp fangs at a moment’s notice and who, he’s been told, is two hundred and seventy-seven years old. He doesn’t look it. He looks maybe thirty-five, with deep, dark eyes and tousled black hair. He’s a big, solid man with wide shoulders, and Alex wonders why he notices these things about another man. Another man who’s his boss, and who’s a vampire. But he trusts Liam. Has trusted him from the moment they met. And he believes in what they’re doing. Somebody has to protect the “normal” folk of society from the things that go bump in the night. And if the protection comes from someone who used to do a lot of bumping himself, well, then that’s just poetic justice. Or perhaps irony. Alex isn’t sure. In any case, Liam knows what he’s doing, and his insider’s perspective gives him an edge over the other vampire hunters Alex has met since he landed this job. He pulls up in front of Liam’s house -- a modest place of ivy-covered brick in a quiet, residential neighborhood. There are other vampires in this part of town but they keep to themselves, and Liam has understandings with all of them. So Alex isn’t afraid as he slips out of the car into the early evening and heads for the front door, research notes in hand. Liam won’t be awake yet, but he will be soon. Alex uses his key to come in, and goes inside, flipping on a few lights and looking for a place to spread out his notes. In the living room, there’s a pile of Liam’s things next to the couch. Sketchbooks mostly, as well as some old, bound books. Liam’s always reading, and everything he

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reads looks like it’s at least a hundred years old. Alex thinks it’s possible Liam might enjoy some more recently written literature, if he gave it a chance. Alex lays his things out on the coffee table, then peeks into the bedroom. Liam is there, of course, sprawled across the bed, utterly still. Alex looks at him for a moment, then carefully closes the door. It’s disquieting to watch Liam sleep. He just looks so -- dead. He would feel dead, too, his skin at room temperature, his pulse silent. Alex tries not to think about it. In any case, Liam should be waking up soon, so Alex goes back to the living room and takes a seat. Curiosity overtakes him and he looks through Liam’s reading material. Pride and Prejudice. Sense and Sensibility. Interesting. Liam’s never struck him as the Jane Austen type. He pushes the Austen books aside and picks up one of the sketchbooks. It looks incredibly old. Unable to resist, Alex picks it up and opens it. The pages are yellow and brittle, and Alex turns them carefully. He’s seen Liam’s sketches before, but this drawing style seems different, the lines darker, harsher in a way. Perhaps it’s just the writing materials -- these were drawn long before the invention of the lead pencil, after all -- but Alex can’t help but think that what he sees here is the reflection of the man who drew them. A hundred years ago Liam was a much different person than he is now. Now he is a vampire hunter. Then… then he was a vicious killer. There’s a woman in most of the pictures, astoundingly beautiful, pale hair and pale eyes. Alex blinks a little, turning the pages. She is here in Revolutionary dress, then in no dress at all, then spread open, every intimate detail inscribed with care, if not love. Page after page of pornographic pictures, the blonde woman, a dark, younger woman, then the two women together. Alex can’t help wondering why Liam would keep these. He can’t help wondering why he doesn’t just close the book and put it away, as he’s finding this more and more disturbing. But he pages through to the end of the book, and finds another figure in the last pages. A man. He is slim and lean, with pale eyes and dark hair that curls untidily

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down to his shoulders. Cheekbones like knives, a mouth at first soft, later thin and sardonic. A look on his face that dares and mocks. He, too, is naked, in more than half the twelve pages his likeness occupies. Naked and spread open, much like the women, ready to be taken. “Hey, Alex.” Alex jumps out of his skin. Of course he hasn’t heard Liam come out of the bedroom, much less come up behind him. He turns in the chair, more than startled, realizing he’s been caught doing things he shouldn’t. Liam looks down, sees what Alex is looking at, and Alex freezes for a moment before slowly closing the sketchbook, trying not to draw attention to it, but it’s too late. Liam is still for a moment, staring at the book, then his gaze floats back up to Alex’s face. “You have something for me?” he asks, his tone perfectly normal, matter-offact. “I -- yes, I do, actually. Liam --” But Liam turns toward the kitchen. “Okay if I make coffee?” “Yes, of course. Liam --” “Not a problem, Alex. Not like I had them under lock and key.” He’s spooning coffee grounds into the coffee maker. He always makes it too strong for Alex’s taste, perhaps because he can’t taste it otherwise. “What did you want to talk to me about?” “Just a few translations I’ve done over the past week. I thought they merited some attention.” With his linguistic background, Alex ahs been put in charge of prophetic documents, scouring old, obscure books for prophecies that are scheduled to come true in the near future. He’s already found a few things that have come true, enough to make him nervous and excited about his job at the same time. As usual, Liam takes it all in stride. He’s been around for a long time -- he’s seen these things happen more than once. “Apocalypses, or just run-of-the-mill horrors rising?” “Mostly run-of-the-mill horrors.”

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Liam nods. The coffee is brewing now, so he comes to sit across from Alex in the living room, takes a proffered folder and glances through it. “Put these on the schedule. We’ll look into them as they come up.” “You’re certain? They all look legitimate to you?” “Can’t take the chance they aren’t.” The coffee maker has stopped percolating; he gets up to fetch a cup. Now that he’s in the other room, Alex feels a bit less intimidated. “Liam, could I ask you a question?” “Yeah,” Liam grunts, almost as if he’s not really listening. “The pictures --” And Alex’s courage falters with that, as he involuntarily looks into the kitchen and meets Liam’s eyes. Liam sips his coffee and looks back. His expression is neutral. Alex fumbles on. “I’ve been reading the books you gave me, about vampire history. I don’t really understand the dynamics of vampiric families. Is that what you call them? Families?” There. Make it sound like pure intellectual curiosity. “Yeah,” says Liam. “I fucked him. More than once. That what you wanted to know?” Alex just gapes at him as he comes back into the living room, sits back down in his chair, drinks his coffee. “I --” “Vampiric family dynamics are just like everything else about most vampires, Alex. Dysfunctional. Based on power, not love or affection. The Sire dominates those he or she Turns, in every way possible. Not kindly, not carefully.” He puts his coffee cup down on the table and picks up the folder again, paging through the sheets covered in Alex’s careful print. It’s the only outward sign he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. “It’s brutal, ugly, and bloody. It’s what I was. I can’t change it.” “I’m sorry.” Alex can’t even look at Liam now. “I had no right --” “Of course you have a right.” Liam’s voice is hard now, and Alex looks up, surprised. “You’re with me every day, in close quarters. You have every right to know what I was, what most of the others are. It could save your life.”

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Alex just nods. A moment of understanding passes between them and this makes him uncomfortable. “Well,” he says finally. “I suppose we should go over these translations.” “Yeah,” says Liam. “We probably should.” Alex sorts through the folders, showing Liam several items that could merit attention, walking him through some of the trickier passages. Liam’s command of languages is impressive, but there are gaps in his knowledge Alex can fill and viceversa. Liam is attentive to Alex’s comments, listening in rapt attention, and Alex finds himself strangely drawn to the big vampire. There’s just something about him -something alluring and dangerous, but somehow safe and steady. Alex isn’t sure what to think about it. After a time, Liam picks up one of the folders and begins to pore over it, studying Alex’s notes, while Alex raids the refrigerator. There are containers of blood there, pushed toward the back, alongside lunchmeat, cheese, milk, and half a cheesecake. “Can I get you anything?” Alex asks. “I’m good.” Alex makes a sandwich and finds himself thinking about the dynamics of vampire family groupings. He’s read some accounts that support Liam’s description, and now he wonders how it might apply to Liam’s own family grouping. The two women, the young man. The thought makes him uncomfortable. Especially the presence of the man. He wonders what Liam’s relationship to the slim vampire was. Obviously sexual, but was it rape? Something makes him think it was, and this makes Alex shudder, because he remembers. “Would you consider yourself bisexual then?” Alex asks suddenly, then hopes to God he didn’t say that out loud. But he did. Liam looks up from the folder and regards Alex for a moment, expressionless. He looks like he might be processing the question, or even just registering it.

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Finally he shrugs. “I don’t know. Not really.” He seems unoffended. “I prefer women.” Then something crumples oddly in his face. Alex holds his breath. “Sometimes you just want a warm body.” It’s more than he intended to say. Alex can tell because his eyes flick up, just that split second, almost apologetic, before he focuses again on the papers. But he’s not really focusing at all. His eyes are a long way away. “That wasn’t what it was though,” Alex says then, and he’s not sure why he’s still talking, except that there’s a heavy lump in his chest that’s been there damn near twenty years, and it feels like pieces might be flaking off of it. “With… him. The man in the sketchbook. That’s not what it was.” Liam is looking at him with a slight frown, as if he knows Alex is working toward something. Which is interesting, because Alex himself isn’t sure what it is. “No,” Liam says gently, as if he understands this is important. “No, it wasn’t. It was about power, and dominance, and about doing to someone else what Monique did to me.” “Monique --” Alex breaks off. He knows very little about Monique, except that she Sired Liam. In spite of what Liam has just told him, it has never occurred to him that Liam might not have been the leader of his clan. Liam says nothing, but he looks away. The folder is still on his lap, but he makes no move to continue reading. Alex casts his mind back to the pictures in Liam’s sketchpad. Monique -- small and blonde. Pretty. But there was something about her that reminded Alex of an ancient, wicked blade. Something in her eyes. Alex can’t leave it alone. He’s not sure why. Something inside him wants to open up, and something else tells him it’s okay. Liam’s watching him, and everything about him is quiet. Not just his body -- Alex’s used to that -- but his eyes. There’s sympathy there, and a simple kind of waiting. “What --” His courage falters, but not for long. “What did she do to you?” Liam gives a rueful smile. “She taught me everything I know.”

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Everything he knows. Everything he knows about cruelty, about pain. Liam was a monster once, a hundred years ago. Alex can see it on his face, just for a moment. He supposes it’s true -- behind every successful man is a woman who drives him to the heights of excellence. Liam looks down at the folder. After a moment, he closes it. He’s going to listen to Alex. Alex isn’t sure whether to be gratified or frightened. Instead he’s just startled at Liam’s first question. “Is this about your father?” He wonders how he’s put the pieces together. A flinch here and there, perhaps a word with one of Alex’s friends, or an Internet search. In the end, it doesn’t matter. “Yes,” he says, because something tells him there’s no point lying, no point trying to hide anything. Liam just nods soberly. And Alex realizes with a lurch of pure gratitude that he’s not going to have to spell it out, not going to have to say the words, “My father raped me.” Because Liam understands brutality and abuse, and not just from perpetrating it. “It’s not always like that,” Liam says. Another realization hits Alex. “So you’ve -- since you… changed --” It occurs to Alex that he’s having a great deal of difficulty forming sentences. This doesn’t seem to faze Liam. “Yes. I still sleep with men from time to time.” He laughs a little, that sardonic, self-deprecating laugh that Alex has become so familiar with. “Not that there’s a great deal of opportunity.” Alex feels another layer peeling off the lump in his chest. But this one lets memories escape -- humiliation and pain. It was so long ago -- why does it still make him feel so small and useless? So dirty? “I don’t understand…” Alex starts, but he’s not sure where he’s going, not sure what he needs to say. Liam sits in silence, patient, waiting. Finally Alex fumbles on. “I don’t understand how it could be anything other than… painful. It’s… there’s…” The layers are peeling off, but he can’t get to what’s under them. “You were raped,” says Liam, gently. He can form the words Alex can’t. “That’s not sex, it’s violence. And I would know.”

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Alex swallows. He doesn’t like to think about the demon Liam has been, but Liam has never tried to hide his past. He speaks of it with regret, but also with the sure knowledge that it’s in the past, and he can rue it, brood over it, but never change it. Alex’s thoughts are disjointed, emotions coming at him from every direction so that he can’t assimilate it all. There are things he wants to know, questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t know what they are until he actually speaks. “What’s it like… when it’s not…” “It’s just sex, Alex. It’s like with a woman. You can be harsh, and hurt her, or you can be careful, and make it good.” Liam’s so matter-of-fact, Alex thinks. Like it’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t. It’s just sex. But for Alex, haunted by the dark shadow of his father, it’s not. He’s told people about the beatings. He saw a therapist for a few months a few years ago, but he’s never told anyone about the rapes. Until now. “He used to come in at night when I was asleep,” he says, his voice thready. It’s all coming out of him now and he’s not sure why. Maybe because, for the first time, he knows the person he’s talking to has deeper, darker secrets. Liam folds his hands under his chin and just waits. Alex has seen him like this before, often sitting alone in the office, wrapped in that silence. He’s often wondered what Liam thinks about when he’s silent like that. But it’s a gentle, undemanding silence, waiting for Alex to fill it, but only if he wants to. “He would tell me it was my fault, that I wasn’t --” Alex stops. He can’t say any more. He’s shaking. “You okay, Alex?” Liam’s voice is gentle. “My father used to bugger me in the dark --” Alex wonders where the words are coming from, how he’s even making them. “-- and tell me it was my fault, that I was small and filthy and inferior.” He stops. He’s embarrassed now. Liam regards him quietly, with a slight, concerned frown. Then he speaks, his voice soft, rough around the edges. “She used to

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tie me to the bed. She had knives, a set, with slim, sharp blades. She would cut me and lick up the blood, little soft tongue like a cat.” Alex tenses a little, then makes himself relax. He wonders if Liam has ever told anyone this, if he’s just kept it inside him for a century or more. “Sometimes she would just take off strips of skin, long and thin. They would grow back by dawn, but it hurt. God, it hurt. She had a talent for it, for torture, and she showed me what it felt like, the long, slow bleed, the cuts that make you weak but aren’t deep enough to kill you. She taught me all of that. And broom handles, and bottle brushes --” He stops just as Alex realizes what he means by this. Then, to Alex’s surprise, Liam reaches out to him, softly runs a finger along his jaw line. “You need to let this go,” the vampire says gently, then adds, to Alex’s surprise and complete humiliation, “I can help you, if you want.” Alex opens his mouth, closes it again. Nothing comes out. His face burns. He gets up and walks out, out of the room, out of the apartment, into the night where he knows Liam could follow, but won’t.

*** Alex makes his way to a bar, one nearby that pretends to be English, with dartboards and beer that’s too thin to be anything but American, and drinks. He doesn’t drink a lot. It becomes all too apparent all too quickly that he’s never going to numb the memories this way. He wonders if there’s any way. He aches all over now with the memories. He’d pushed them back where he’d thought they would never touch him again, but he understands now he was wrong. There’s got to be a way to burn this memory out of him. Something quick and thorough. And as he’s drinking, he thinks perhaps Liam’s way would be the best, but he’s not sure he can do it. Finally, feeling the buzz now, he leaves the bar and returns to Liam’s apartment.

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Morning is near, and Liam is asleep again. Alex walks into the bedroom, drawing in the scent. It’s an odd smell -- a man smell, but different, with acidic hints he supposes have to do with Liam’s vampiric nature. Odd, but not repulsive. He breathes it for a moment, dimly wondering if it could arouse him. And of course as soon as he thinks that, he feels the pressure begin, feels the blood flowing, tingling. He steps farther into the room. Liam lies on his back, and Alex can tell he’s naked under the blankets. He wonders briefly why Liam bothers with blankets, since vampires don’t really generate any body heat. But he knows he’s thinking that so he won’t have to think about the rest of it -what he’s about to do. He sits on the bed. Liam rolls lazily to his right side, turning his back to Alex. The movement startles Alex a little, probably because Liam had been so still before he’d moved. But he’s still asleep. Hesitant, he reaches out, lets his fingers brush Liam’s shoulder. His skin is firm and cool. Not cold, but cool. He knows this, of course -- he’s touched Liam before -- but this is different. Has he wanted this? He thinks perhaps he has, maybe since he met Liam, or since the night Liam saved his life the first time. He flattens his hand against the wing of the vampire’s shoulder blade, feeling the flat, wide bone. Liam stirs under his touch. Alex starts to draw away, but stops himself and instead lets his fingers trail around the curve of Liam’s shoulder as Liam rolls over. “Alex?” His eyes are bleary; he’s not quite awake. Alex says nothing. He doesn’t really know what to say. Liam blinks at him dully as Alex watches his own hand move across Liam’s chest, until he touches a flat, pink nipple. “Alex?” Liam says again, but his tone is different now. Surprised. Confused. “I want you to show me,” Alex says. “I want you to show me how it can be good.”

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Clarity begins to seep into Liam’s eyes. Alex’s finger sits there still, just against the nub of Liam’s nipple. “Can you do that?” Alex says. Liam clears his throat. He’s frowning now. “Are you sure?” Alex has come prepared for this question. Now he lifts his other hand, shows Liam what it holds. Liam watches as Alex lays the tube of K-Y on the bed. “I’m sure. I want this to go away. The pain. Change it into something else.” Liam’s eyes seem to look deep into him, evaluating, judging, reading things Alex doesn’t even know are there. Then, slowly, he nods. Alex doesn’t know if he’s relieved or afraid when Liam’s hand lifts to cover his. Liam’s fingers trace his, and suddenly Alex realizes something. Liam’s not going to fuck him. Liam’s going to make love to him. This scares Alex more than his initial thought of how this would go, but he’s not going to back down now. Something in him needs this, needs to purge the memories of brutality with gentleness. So he doesn’t move when Liam leans toward him. Somehow he hadn’t pictured there being kissing involved. But Liam’s in charge now, and Alex lets it happen, because he senses it’ll be easier that way. Liam’s mouth is wide and firm, and he kisses like a woman. Deep and slow, tasting everything, shifting his mouth to find all the deepest, sweetest angles. He brings his hand up to cup the back of Alex’s neck, holding his head just there. Alex is passive at first, not sure what to do. But he’s kissed people before, hasn’t he? He knows what to do -- he’s only flummoxed because it’s a man’s mouth against his. After a moment he lets himself respond, lets his tongue seek Liam’s. He feels Liam’s fingers unbuttoning his shirt now, sliding it off him. Those big hands on his shoulders, pulling him in, fingers combing into the hair on his chest. Alex is surprised to find himself hard already -- he would have thought the strangeness of this would slow his arousal. Or the fear, the underlying shame he’s trying to purge from himself. But he’s rock-hard by the time Liam unfastens his pants.

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Alex flinches at this, as Liam divests him of his trousers. It’s strange now, because they’re both naked in the wide bed. Alex closes his eyes. He’s not quite ready to face the reality of the situation yet. Liam shifts, easing down on the bed and bringing Alex with him. His mouth moves down Alex’s throat, devouring him. Down his chest, his stomach, and finally Liam draws his face along the length of Alex’s erection. Alex draws a quick breath. And another realization -- Liam has not only done this before, he’s done it a lot. Enough to be comfortable with it, to not be intimidated or embarrassed. His caresses are anything but hesitant -- they are sure and certain, and he knows how to play Alex’s body almost as well as Alex does, himself. For a moment Alex thinks Liam’s going to go down on him, but he doesn’t. Instead he lifts himself over Alex and kisses him again while his big hand cups Alex’s scrotum, maneuvers his testicles. He’s looking right into Alex’s face, which is odd for Alex, hard for him to assimilate. His eyes are deep, dark, black-brown. Alex finds himself falling into them a little. Liam’s rubbing himself against Alex now, the thick length of his erection sliding velvety against Alex’s own. Something in Alex wants to suppress his arousal, but he fights it. It’s impossible, anyway. Liam knows what he’s doing, and there’s no denying the need filling Alex’s groin, his belly. Liam rises over him, reaching for the lube Alex brought with him. Alex tenses, watching him. Not yet, not already, he thinks, but Liam squeezes some of the K-Y into his hand, then reaches down, between Alex’s thighs. Alex has to force himself to let himself be touched. The memories rise, dark and hateful, making his body clench. But Liam’s long body is firm here against him, and he kisses Alex’s face, murmuring, “Easy, easy. It’s okay. You know I won’t hurt you.” Well, yes, that’s the point, isn’t it? Alex lets himself melt into the bed. He’s about as aroused as he’s ever been in his life, which makes it easier. Liam’s slick fingers circle

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him, waiting for the strong muscles to relax. He leans down, presses his face against Alex’s chest, inhales the smell. He’s obviously in no hurry. Alex makes his breathing slow down. The long, cool expanse of Liam’s body has him pressed into the bed, and it’s difficult for him to be this submissive, but it’s arousing at the same time. He’s spent a great deal of time with Liam, poring over books and papers, crawling through sewers and nightclubs looking for vampires, but up until now he hasn’t really realized how big he is. Wide and solid, with big hands. Alex tries not to think too much about it, tries not to think too much about anything. If he’s going to take this ride, he needs to relax, let it play out. He finally lets the tension go, and Liam’s finger slides inside him, long and slim. The sensation is invasive but not unpleasant. It has never occurred to Alex that this could be done face-to-face, and somehow it’s easier that way. It doesn’t remind him as much of his violation. Liam’s fingers work him. He’s got two inside now, thrusting gently as Alex’s body accommodates the invasion. And God, it actually feels good. Alex is surprised by this. He could, possibly, come just from this, but there’s also Liam’s chest sliding against Alex’s cock, Liam’s own erection sliding against his thigh. A third finger now, and Liam’s working for depth as well as width. His fingers are long, but not as long as his cock. He watches Alex’s face, and somehow Alex knows he’ll withdraw at the first sign of pain. But Alex’s body has taken over now, and it’s seeking this, pushing back into Liam’s hand as Liam penetrates him, pressing those long fingers in as far as they can go. Liam’s thrusting his cock against Alex’s leg, and Alex feels the moisture there. He’s ready. And, Alex realizes, so is he. He actually wants this. “Now,” he says quietly. “Now would be good.” So Liam shifts, slowly drawing out his fingers -- a slick, slow sensation that is satisfying in itself. Now Alex half-expects Liam to turn him over, but he doesn’t. It’s going to be face-to-face, and Alex decides he’s okay with that.

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Liam guides himself in carefully, slowly. Liam’s big -- he’s big everywhere -- and Alex isn’t quite ready for this physically. Liam goes slowly, an inch or so at a time, waiting for Alex’s body to open up, to accept the careful penetration. “Easy,” he says again. “It’s okay.” And it is okay. This isn’t brutal invasion. It is, as Liam asserted, just sex. Liam moves slowly in and out, a little farther each time. The sensation is deep, burning, but good. In, out, soft pulsation, until finally, somewhat to Alex’s surprise, Liam is in as far as he can go, and still Alex is pressing into him, asking for more. It’s good. It’s better than he ever imagined it could be, so different from what was forced on him as a boy. This is pure sexual sensation, deep and raw. Liam shifts on him again, lacing his fingers through Alex’s, pressing his hands into the bed. This is almost too intimate, but then how much more intimate can they get, face-to-face, with Liam’s cock imbedded in him to the hilt? “You good?” Liam says, and Alex nods. He lifts his legs -- like a woman, he thinks, pressing his thighs high against Liam’s sides, taking him in, accepting what’s happening. Liam pulses into him now, gentle still but speeding up, thrusting, slick and hard and deep. He lets go of one of Alex’s hands -- Alex misses the tender gesture now that it’s gone -- and reaches between them, his strong hand folding around Alex’s erection. He draws his hand down the length, pulls in time to his own thrusting, which is speeding up, harder and deeper, and Alex can’t believe the intensity. His body’s begging to bring Liam in even deeper, even harder. And suddenly Alex is arching his back, waves of orgasm pulsing through him as he comes into Liam’s hand. Liam, his fingers clenching Alex’s cock almost too hard, pushes in deep, as deep as he can go, and Alex can feel the pulsations as Liam comes up high and hard inside him. Liam gasps, a low, satisfied sound, then looks into Alex’s face. They’re bound in that moment, eye-to-eye in that bubble of orgasm. Alex surprises himself yet again, as he lifts his head, seeks Liam’s mouth, finds it. He curls his hand behind Liam’s neck and draws him in, kisses him long and slow.

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Liam doesn’t seem surprised, and makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. It’s as tender, as satisfying, as anything Alex has ever experienced. Alex wants to say something, but it seems like there’s nothing to say. Nothing that can adequately express what he feels. And suddenly he’s a little afraid of what might happen next. But Liam shifts to the side and holds him. God, who would have imagined he was a cuddler? But he is, apparently, and he nestles into Alex, head against his chest. He’s listening to his heartbeat, Alex realizes, and somehow this touches him. Hesitant, but finally giving in to uncertain instinct, he runs his fingers through Liam’s soft, dark hair.

*** He sleeps for a time, there in Liam’s arms, even though it’s afternoon. But Liam has drifted off as well, and there’s a certain peace here in his embrace. Alex has let go of something, he realizes -- released some of the pain, the hurt, that has festered inside him all this time. He sleeps for a time, and when he wakes up he somehow knows Liam’s awake, too, but he’s still there in the bed, chest to Alex’s back, his arms loose and heavy around him. Alex lies silent for a moment, wondering if there’s anything he can say that won’t sound idiotic. But Liam speaks first. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for trusting me.” His hand lifts to gently stroke through Alex’s hair. “It takes a long time, the healing.” Alex nods. “I never… never told anyone about it before.” “Neither have I.” He sighs, a long intake of unnecessary air, and kisses the back of Alex’s neck. “I knew you’d been abused. I could smell it on you. Not literally… maybe you understand what I mean.” “Not really, but that’s okay.” He shifts backwards, closer into Liam’s arms. It’s easier to talk this way, when he doesn’t have to look into the vampire’s face. “What happened to you… what happened to me…” Liam seems to need to talk, and Alex feels no need to stop him. The quiet conversation is as intimate as the sex. “It

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was about power, dominance. I think I sensed that in you -- that you’d been hurt in that way.” Alex traces his fingers along Liam’s forearm. “I didn’t sense it in you.” Liam chuckles. “I’ve been around a long time.” His voice sobers. “A long time. I’ve done things… committed the same crimes.” He stops. “What she did to me -- she wanted to break me but I never broke. I got off on it.” This silence strains, needing something to fill it. “Liam, that wasn’t you.” The name sounds strange on Alex’s tongue. “You changed. You made yourself someone else.” Liam’s sardonic laugh makes Alex wince. “That’s what I tell myself. Sometimes I even believe it. But I remember it all. Part of me can feel the humiliation, the pain, but sometimes I think it’s not real, that I just feel that way because I know I should, not because it’s what I really feel.” It occurs to Alex that he’s never heard Liam talk this long in one stretch. He thinks about that because it’s easier than hearing what Liam’s saying. “It’s like the guilt.” Liam almost sounds now like he’s talking to himself. “Do I really feel guilty for all the things I’ve done, or do I just know that I’m supposed to?” He rolls away from Alex then, suddenly. “God. I disgust myself. What the fuck am I, Alex?” Alex turns to look at him. He’s flat on his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. “You’re human,” Alex says, and Liam turns his head, frowning, as if considering whether to point out the absurdity of that statement. But Alex isn’t done. “Sometimes, I think, more human than any of the rest of us.” “Bullshit,” says Liam, but gently. He reaches toward Alex, takes his hand. “I’m hanging onto some semblance of humanity by my fingernails. And that’s on a good day.” “You’ve done this for decades.” Alex isn’t certain if he speaks in amazement or assertion. “You should have it down by now.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Weary Memory

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“No. Not really. Every day I fight it, every day I hang on as tight as I can. And every day I wonder what would happen if someday I can’t hang on anymore.” Alex isn’t sure how to take this. But Liam’s still holding his hand and suddenly Alex understands. This is a gift. Liam has told him things he’s never told anyone else. He’s received as much healing here as Alex has. This should be awkward, the strained morning-after moment made stranger because this is Liam, his boss, a vampire. But Alex finds himself curiously comfortable here. Still, he wonders what will happen next. Wonders what he should say. He turns in Liam’s arms. “I should go home,” is what finally comes out, but he doesn’t want to leave. He looks into Liam’s face, judging the other man’s expression. Liam seems past awkwardness. He smiles a little. “You don’t have to.” Alex blinks at him. He understands what Liam’s saying, and he’s not sure why he feels suddenly exposed and strange. They’ve done the deed once already -- why would a second time seem wrong? But then he understands why. The first time he had asked for a reason. A purpose. If he says yes to Liam now, it’ll be because he wants to be here, wants Liam to make love to him. Just for fun. Alex is surprised at how much the thought arouses him. He looks at Liam a moment, gathering courage. Then he tugs on Liam’s hand a little. “All right. I’ll stay.” Liam’s smile is gratifyingly soft, more affectionate than lustful. Alex isn’t sure if this makes the whole situation more or less odd. But when Liam pulls him in, he forgets to worry about the oddness of anything. He’s rougher this time, passion and arousal not under such tight control. Alex responds to it as strongly as if he were with a woman. Liam’s sheer size dominates him -- he’s actually a little shorter than Alex but he’s wider, heavier -- but somehow, in the midst of seeking mouths, grasping hands, Alex finds himself lying on Liam’s back. He understands this is what Liam wants, that Liam has maneuvered him this way on purpose. But suddenly he’s not sure he can do it. Suddenly this seems like a more intimate act than he can possibly perform. Why it seems more intimate than

Elizabeth Jewell

Weary Memory

- 20 -

penetrating a woman -- even penetrating a woman the same way -- he’s not sure, but somehow it is. This is what Liam wants, though, and remembering what it felt like to have Liam inside him -- hard, straining, powerful -- Alex gathers whatever it is he’s lost his hold on -- courage, perhaps -- and proceeds. He tries to follow Liam’s example -- slow and careful, generous with the lube -but Liam’s ready for him and after the initial entrance he pushes back into Alex, not letting him ease his way in. He’s done this before, too, Alex thinks. He knows how to relax the tight muscles, how to let another man in. Liam pushes back hard, drawing Alex in to the root in a matter of a few thrusts. Alex finds himself braced against Liam’s shoulders, gasping at the intense pressure, the tight muscles pulling at him as he pulses. He tries to go slowly but Liam won’t let him. Alex is on top but this is still under Liam’s control, somehow. Liam’s body is taut under his, the wide shoulders shifting as he pulses back against Alex. Alex’s hand presses against Liam’s shoulder blade and he realizes he’s bracing himself there, maintaining that distance, and suddenly the distance doesn’t seem so important anymore. He lets himself settle onto Liam’s wide back, his chest pressed firm against that wide expanse of pale, cool skin. Liam’s muscles work under him, strong, coiled, softened, taut again. Hesitant, Alex shifts, touches Liam’s flank. Liam responds, lifting his hips just enough to give Alex access. Again, Alex hesitates, not certain he can do this, but he makes himself press on. He slips his hand under Liam’s body, curls his fingers around the thick, hard jut of his erection. Liam’s cock is steely hard, and he thrusts through Alex’s fist, moaning deep in his throat. Growling. Then, suddenly, in a single harsh, solid thrust, Alex comes, deep inside Liam, and Liam comes, spilling over Alex’s fingers and the blankets. Liam is taut for a long, suspended moment, and Alex can feel the pulsations of orgasm clenching on his own cock as he, too, empties everything he has. “God,” he says, breathing it with the last of his climax. “God, Liam.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Weary Memory

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The big vampire gives a long, slow sigh, and reaches back to take Alex’s hand. They are quiet for a time, then Alex moves to lie next to Liam, and Liam wraps his arms around him. “Sleep,” Liam says, and Alex does.

The End

Elizabeth Jewell Multi-published author, editor, and mother, Elizabeth Jewell is really one cool lady. She lives in Colorado with her kids. She claims she’s tired of talking about herself, but we know she has a day job in addition to all the fantastic stories she writes, and we’ve heard some rumors of a life outside work, involving both kids and occasional trips to cons, where we’re pretty sure she stalks all the best vampires.