Waylon's Crossing - 13. Chapter 13: Dream Love

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 13: Dream Love

Within a few steps, Kynan was out of Alan's dream and back into the shadow-city of his dreamscape. He slowed to a walk. What was I thinking?

He lost track of where he was wandering, his mind thrown into turmoil, and sat down on some steps in the dream city to bury his head in his arms and try to get control of himself again. His mind wanted to insist that the reason his hands shook or he couldn't catch his breath was because he was reacting to the shock, something that had nothing to do with the images that tried to form on the edges of his vision. He clapped his hands over his ears and shuddered, willing the porch behind him to not lead into a tawdry interior, filled with a gaudy display of wealth over the cheap flat board siding. Loud music and louder voices, shouting catcalls to each other, both teasing and demeaning, cheap perfume to delude the senses, bright colors and rough fabrics to hide the shabbiness, and painted faces to encourage the clients to see only that which they wished to see.

Huddled on the stair, hands to his ears and eyes squeezed closed, Kynan tried to shut it all out, but the memories wouldn't be denied. Familiar faces, voices, touches, pelted him with all the reasons he should look back on this place fondly, but he felt only horror and disgust. He'd turned his back on all this a long time ago, that wasn't who he was anymore!

When he realized he was being watched, Kynan looked up. In the werewolf’s dreams, Alan was solid black as he saw himself in reality. For Kynan, that black wolf translated to a silver-white wolf-pup in the dream city of his dreamscape.

Eerie wolf eyes regarded Kynan steadily from the street, just beyond reach. He stared back. He'd never had prey come to him before! No! Not prey, not prey! Alan!

"Go away!" cried Kynan. He swung his arm, but though the city rippled and changed, Alan remained. His tail twitched and he moved suddenly as if to stand, but instead settled back down on his haunches.

Kynan tried again, but to the same effect. "Get out of here!"

Alan inched forward, to lay his jaw by Kynan's feet on the steps, whining softly. Kynan jerked away, rattling his chain. His heart gave a painful lurch at the mournful look Alan fixed on him. The pup wagged his tail and whined again.

"You can't be here!" Kynan protested.

The pup cocked his head slightly, one ear forward, one back. He stretched his nose towards Kynan and licked his ankle with a sticky tongue.

"Augh!" exclaimed Kynan, yanking his foot away, and staring at Alan. "I cannot believe you just did that! That's so gross."

Alan laughed silently in a wolfish grin, wagging his tail again. Kynan's lips twitched in response. They regarded each other silently for a moment, and then abruptly Kynan leaned forward, arms against his knees.

"Alan," he said, and somehow he found it easier to speak with Alan in this way. "This is my world -- you don't belong here."

Alan growled his disapproval. Kynan winced, covering his face with his hands, and discovered that he was weeping. He pulled his hands away again, wiping at his eyes in confusion and mounting panic.

"You don't understand! And I don't know how to explain."

"You don't have to."

Startled, Kynan stared at Alan, still kneeling on the pavement, and looking quite as astonished as he regarding his sudden transformation. Alan recovered first. He grabbed for and held Kynan's hands, squeezing his fingers. Kynan froze, staring at him, horribly, horribly embarrassed, color creeping up his face despite the pervasive grayness of the place. There was nothing to disguise him right now, he was as physically real as he knew he could be, from the blue demon-eyes to the dirt and bruising accrued from his hiding place and the still-healing blisters from his beating, and certainly nothing to hide that the fact he was crying like a child.

He leaped to his feet, backing away, and half tripping on the stairs. "No! No! You can't -- this isn't ...! You're a -- I'm a -- this is wrong. So wrong!" He rubbed his palms against his sides and arms, trying to rub out the feel of Alan's small hands in his own, but the tingling spread instead, making him even more antsy.

Alan stood slowly, looking up at him steadily. He'd never seen eyes so beautiful. They were robin's egg blue and slitted like a demon's, but looked just like a Siamese cat's. And Kynan's eyes didn't get all red and puffy like Alan's did when he cried.

"What's wrong about it?" Alan demanded. "I've felt you in my dreams for months now, and now that I decide to invite you in, you object? Kynan. I could feel what you were feeling back there!" he gestured vaguely to one side. "Are you telling me that I'm wrong? Because I don't believe you!"

Kynan backed up another step as Alan moved towards him. "That's not -- you don't understand! I can't! I just can't! Go away! Please! Just go away!"

’Why?’ is what he wanted to ask. Why stop? Why go away? Why not give in? Alan was confused and tired, exhausted even in sleep from the countless hours below ground, from the fight with his father before that, from the strain of knowing Kynan to be alive and not having a clue of how to help him, and he wanted nothing more than to just be held for a while by someone who cared about him. Couldn’t Kynan see that? Couldn’t he understand? He might have hidden away in his dreams, but even invisible, Kynan couldn’t mask his emotions. And back there ... back there, Alan had felt nothing but longing.

Alan glanced down as the chain rattled when Kynan took another step. He regarded the links silently for a minute, and then stepped on them, giving Kynan a wicked grin. Kynan pulled, but Alan remained firm, hands on hips, both endearing and frustrating in his single-minded determination. From long experience Kynan knew that once Alan started on a project, nothing would dissuade him. He had always admired that trait before, but now there was an added dimension of frustration. What could he do?

Kynan looked around desperately, looking anywhere but at Alan. "This isn't real! This is just my head, playing tricks on me!" If he didn't get away, if he couldn't get away!

"Real or not," sighed Alan, "you want me here, or I could not be here."

"I don't want you here!"

"Maybe if you keep repeating that, you'll actually start to believe it." Amusedly, Alan watched Kynan pace back and forth at the end of his chain, tugging and pulling at intervals. The sight almost made him laugh; Kynan reminded him of an impatient dog. Instead, Alan just smiled, admiring Kynan’s determination to get away.

Aggravated to no end, Kynan tried to flee the dreamscape entirely, but that didn't work, either. He remained firmly rooted, growing ever more desperate, his desire harder to hold back. Through all his attempts, Alan waited patiently, with that slightly lopsided grin Kynan liked so much. It was almost impossible to stay angry with him when he smiled like that, and he needed anger, or -- or something!

He dug his fingers into his upper arms, shivering, and turned sideways, away from Alan, as far away as he could get. He shook his head; his damn eyes would not stop tearing. "No."

"'No,' what?"

Kynan turned his head to glare at Alan, and saw with alarm that he had gained a stair. Kynan hastily sidestepped, but his shackles only let him have a few scant inches. He wiped at his eyes, his brows furrowing in worry. "Alan ... Stop. Please. Please, Alan."

Alan paused. "You want this." He'd seen Bryce transform into a crazed, insensible creature of need. How could he get Kynan to let go? If he didn't do this, whatever it was, he'd tear himself apart. Alan could almost see it, visualize it happening, and that frightened him worse than anything the man might do.

Kynan trembled harder and turned his head away again, closing his eyes. "No! No," he repeated, sobbing. He bit his lip, digging his fingers in harder, hoping to distract himself with the pain, but all he could feel was Alan's proximity, like a full course meal dangled before a starving man.

"This isn't real," he murmured. "This isn't me, it isn't me at all!"

"Kynan ... you need this." He frowned. Words weren't working.

"No!"

Kynan's eyes burst open at the feather-soft touch on his cheek. Alan stood on tip-toe to wipe away some of the moisture with his fingers.

"Take what you need." Please, Kynan!

"You ... you don't know what you're offering." Kynan had to concentrate on the words, rather than simply staring. His mouth felt funny, the images in his head now were liable to drive him absolutely insane, his body seemingly fighting to turn itself inside out, and Alan's scent took on a salty tang that threatened to overload his senses completely.

"Yes, I do."

Slowly, fighting himself to maintain any control at all, Kynan uncoiled and reached out, to set his hands on Alan's shoulders. A tremor seized him and he paused, Alan seemed so small, so fragile. They stood that way for a minute.

"Alan ... I -- I could hurt you."

"You won't."

Kynan lifted and set Alan beside him. He slid his hands around Alan and drew him close, pressing him to his chest and tucking Alan's head under his chin. He shivered and wrapped his arms about Alan's shoulders. He jumped and almost drew away again as Alan's arms settled around his waist. Alan's heart beat wildly against Kynan's own and they both panted. Alan shifted, stubbing Kynan's toe with his shoe, but Kynan hardly noticed.

"It's not too late to change your mind," he offered. He wasn't exactly sure that was true, but Alan just looked up at him with those big eyes of his.

"I know," was all he said.

Like sharing a thick, heavy cloak, Kynan wrapped Alan all around with the hidden power of the dreamscape. Alan gasped. Every thought, every feeling, even the slightest of touches became magnified. Kynan drew upon Alan's emotions, breathing them in, reflecting them back, and enhancing the dream to the fullest extent possible. Kynan ran his palms up and down Alan's back, digging in his fingers on the upstroke. Alan moaned and sagged against Kynan, his arms tightening, his body stiffening. Kynan trembled again as he absorbed the power of Alan's own desire. He had to take a moment to gain control of his head again, fear for Alan's safety spurring him to added efforts to hold back, to fight the compulsion to take him immediately, and damn the consequences.

Keeping one arm around Alan's shoulders to keep him from slumping to the ground, Kynan eased the other down, into the waistband of Alan's pants, to slide his hand up under his shirt. His skin was so soft beneath Kynan's light touch, smooth, like demon-skin, and ... fuzzy? Kynan gaped in wonder. Alan had a light covering of hair on his back, silky-soft and barely long enough to grasp between two fingers.

Demons had no body hair to speak of, not even eyelashes. Kynan had eyelashes, and hair on his head, but that was it. He'd forgotten how incredibly sexy body hair was. Bringing his hand up, Kynan added his other, so that both his arms pressed against skin and Alan bucked against him, groaning.

"And this is only the beginning," Kynan whispered, rubbing his cheek in Alan's hair, and then abruptly pushing away the half-formed wish that this were real, that he really held Alan in his arms and not some dream. Was Alan as fuzzy in real life?

He spun Alan around, chuckling as Alan tried to figure out what to do with his arms. He finally took pity on the poor wolf and tucked one arm over his own, guiding the other behind him, clasping his thigh, because that was all Alan could reach. Kynan had one arm looped under Alan's armpit and chest and used his other hand to brush the hair from Alan's neck so that he could nuzzle his ear and nibble along the line of his jaw. Then he was back under Alan's shirt to caress his stomach, running his fingers lightly along his sides, darting under his waistband in quick, teasing passes before encircling his navel again.

Kynan pressed up against Alan, breathing in harsh draughts against his neck. He could not believe how fast this was going. Alan's quick gasps and ragged breathing were all that held him back. It was now obvious to Kynan that Alan had little to no experience and his conscience pricked at him. He was strangely divided on this score. On the one hand, Alan's uninhibited passion at these small gestures of love-play made him feel more powerful than at any other time of his life and not a little giddy. On the other hand, he was deeply, deeply frightened. Alan was wrong; Kynan didn't want this. Never this. He was a monster and he wept into Alan's neck and hair.

But he didn't want to let go, whatever his conscience tried to argue. He wrapped his other arm around Alan's chest, dropped his head into the hollow of his shoulder, and hugged him close, shaking. These rising passions, in Alan, and, more frighteningly, in himself, were like a drug, stealing from him his sense of self-preservation, his sanity, and his self-control. He could feel the terror that he was rising up again and fought it back, but it would not be contained, his body striving for sustenance, even against the ravings of his heart.

Blunt, unromantic need pushed back at Kynan, and he was lost. He bit Alan deeply on his collarbone, drawing blood, the werewolf's shocked cry startling Kynan back into a better awareness of himself. He struggled against his beast for control. If he was going to be forced into this, then he was going to be gentle, as much as he could, anyway. He gave Alan's neck a kiss in apology, putting his rusty skills to good use. He ran his fingers over Alan's clothes, over the humped up fabric of his shirt to the bare skin of his stomach. Down, to his waist, his pants, then sideways to the inner thigh and up the join of leg back to his torso. He had to pause and adjust his grip again as Alan's legs started to give way. Then back to the pattern, a slow, slow tempo until he had Alan writhing in his arms, mewling softly, head tipped back against Kynan's shoulder. Only then did he reach for belt and fastenings.

Overwhelming pleasure suddenly broke with a sharp, painful cry that echoed around Kynan like knives. Alan collapsed. Vertigo seized Kynan and he fell, caught up in a maelstrom of strange images, thoughts, and desires; his beast was loose! He could feel Alan’s life slipping away as easily as the dream around them.

Something dark and insidious laughed in the back of Kynan's mind, told him to forget the boy. He was prey, that was all, and this was his right, to feed on desire until it became insatiable, to feast on the flood of feelings until the mind was too helpless to do anything but respond. Kill with pleasure; that was the way of things, the true way, the only way. How could he have resisted his own nature for so long?

No!

The dark, desperate hunger burned away to ash beneath Kynan's savage denial. He wrenched himself free and grasped, panicked, after Alan's consciousness, using pure force of will to stabilize the dreamscape and aid his search.

ALAN!

He opened his eyes to find himself sprawled awkwardly on the steps, Alan still tangled in his arms. The stairs dug into his back, so at least he'd cushioned Alan when they fell. He sat up, cradling Alan's tiny body to his chest. The younger man lay limp, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, breathing in quick, shallow bursts. He looked pale and he felt cold to the touch. His heart beat, but rapidly and far too weak for Kynan's liking.

"Alan! Alan, Alan!" cried Kynan, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "No! Oh, shit, oh shit. Shit!" His hand dwarfed Alan's cheek, pressed his face into his chest, shaking. He rocked back and forth, calling Alan's name and praying for a miracle, to anyone or anything that could listen. "Alan! Please, Alan, come back. I'm sorry, so sorry! Alan, please!"

How long they stayed that way Kynan didn't know, it felt like an eternity, but at last he felt Alan move against him weakly. Hardly daring to believe, he looked down, brushed some hair out of Alan's eyes. Alan smiled his lopsided smile, Kynan's profound relief making the expression even dearer to him.

"Can we do that again?" whispered Alan.

"Hell, no!" snapped Kynan, but he laughed anyway. "You crazy wolf -- you scared the fucking shit out of me!" He took a deep, shuddering breath and hugged Alan tighter. "Don't listen to me, I'm a fool, I should have known better. Dammit, I'm crying again!" Or did I never stop? "I'm sorry, Alan! No, don't talk -- sleep, just sleep. And stop wiggling; your ass is digging holes in me." Not to mention ... "Shh, Alan, just rest. It's okay now." Please let everything be okay again! "Sleep, just sleep." He dropped another kiss on Alan's forehead. "Crazy, crazy wolf."

As Alan settled deeper into sleep, beyond dreams, and gradually faded from his arms, Kynan leaned against the stairs in sudden weakness. He had almost killed Alan! Whatever happened, that was too high a price to pay. Ever. What had happened would change their relationship forever, but to what end? When Alan woke up, what would he remember? What would he think, in the clear light of morning? Would he have regrets?

If Kynan had regrets, it was for walking into that shop in the first place. The need for a new sword had led him to the werewolf blacksmith. Of course, finding the smith had meant finding the child, a child that had fascinated a demon with his ingenious dreams. Such good work had attracted its own attention and Kynan had protected his source primarily out of self-interest at first. He convinced himself he was furthering his own ends, keeping Alan solely to himself; it was perfectly within his demonic nature to feel possessive of the boy.

They hadn't met in person more than a handful of times, always using intermediaries to exchange goods. The gems Kynan offered in payment were well worth the incredible dreams and he'd never had anything else he'd wanted to spend money on anyway. Alan accepted Kynan's terms without question -- or, rather, without too many questions, and more than once Kynan had wondered how he'd managed to inspire such trust. That could be very useful, if he could just figure it out.

Things could never just go back to the way they were, but what if he'd been frightened so badly that, after thinking things over, Alan was to decide that Kynan was too dangerous to have any further contact with? Maybe things would be better that way, Alan was still so young, he couldn't help but worry that he'd taken advantage of him, and Kynan didn't even know what Alan preferred, males, females, or otherwise, other races could be so funny about that sort of thing. What if Alan were to hate him for what he'd done? If he did, Kynan knew he could not hate him back, but he was afraid that he was potentially losing his only friend. And that would break his heart.