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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Breakdown - 8. 07 Evening At Home

Aziel was thankful to be back in his penthouse. Mark sighed and loosened his tie, looking up at the beautiful, aristocratic man. Mark's brow creased as he thought about the coolness in the other's gaze over dinner, and the abrupt, aloof manner in which they had departed. Mark was well aware of the impression that Aziel left on others. Tenderly, Mark reached out and touched the hand of the man that he had been in love with for two years.

"I'm sorry you didn't enjoy dinner, Aziel," Mark whispered. Aziel turned to him, his eyes having lost some of that coldness they had in the restaurant. His fingers knit with Mark's.

"I enjoyed dinner very much," Aziel replied.

"You didn't seem like you did," Mark said. He stepped closer to him, looking up at Aziel. He broke eye contact to press his cheek into the other's chest. Aziel felt warm and firm.

Aziel was silent a moment. He slid his hand wrapped with Mark's fingers behind him, allowing Mark to hug him around the waist. Aziel put one hand on Mark's upper back. In some ways, Aziel hated that Mark could do that. He could always see through that carefully wrought façade to the turmoil that lay beneath. How Aziel had allowed Mark to get that close, to see that deeply... Aziel wasn't sure.

He'd met Mark in a restaurant much like the one they had just left. A high-rise, plush eatery that was long established. Mark had been Aziel's waiter. This even in itself would not have pushed Aziel to engage in any further contact with the youth; he was attractive enough, certainly, but all the waiters and waitresses at the exclusive dining high-rise were. No, it had been an unfortunately event with a customer that assumed that the waiters were there to give more service than just an accurate rendition of the wine list.

That had been almost three years ago. Aziel looked down at the brown mop of hair that was pressed into his chest. His fingers stroked through the silky locks of their own accord. He remembered Mark's tear-stained face as he waited for the bus. Aziel had offered to give him a ride home.

Why had he done that?

"I love you, Aziel," Mark whispered into his chest.

Only because he knew no one was watching, Aziel allowed his normally neutral features to be captured by a light, contented smile. "I love you too, Mark."

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" Mark asked. He looked up at him, his dark eyes warm and friendly. He caught the fragments of Aziel's smile, knowing that it was that special smile that he only did when he thought no one would catch him. That smile that was disarmed, deep, and honest. That, more than anything, kept Mark at his side despite Aziel's frequent trips to distant cities.

Aziel shook his head. "No, you've done everything you possibly could have."

They moved over to the couch in the living room, breaking their hug but refusing to break the interlacing of their fingers. Aziel sat near the end of the couch, leaning on the armrest. Mark snuggled up next to him, his head on Aziel's shoulder. Their hands parted only so that Aziel could wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"I really enjoyed tonight," Mark said softly. "It's nice to go to a restaurant like that and not have to serve the food."

Aziel nodded. "You should just quit," Aziel replied.

Mark looked up at him, frowning a little. "Don't start this again. I told you, I'm not going to just freeload off of you. I want to make my own money and manage it."

Aziel grunted a little, obviously aware that this argument was a bad one to start.

"Besides, if you dumped me, where will I be? No job, no money of my own..." Mark sighed, looking up at him. The thought of Aziel dumping him was unthinkable...

"Dump you?" Aziel asked, raising his eyebrows. "Now now, that's extreme. And if I did 'dump you,' as you so eloquently put it, the skills that you have learned in bed would place you as a very expensive call boy, at the least."

Mark grinned, slapping his hand against Aziel's chest. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Aziel shook his head gravely. "Not at all. I don't share."

"You'd have dumped me, you wouldn't care," Mark teased.

Aziel looked away, as if pondering that. "Well, that leaves only one option then, I suppose."

"What's that?"

"I can never 'dump you,'" Aziel replied. "Never let you go, never let you run away. You'll be mine, forever."

Mark swooned under the softly spoken words. He loved Aziel's deep, smooth voice. It was like listening to the sound of cream being stirred in chocolate, rich and thick. And the words, so soft and buttery. As corny as the whole situation was, it made Mark's heart flutter in his chest. He had never dreamed of anyone saying these things to him, let alone a powerful, rich lawyer with looks that could have made him a movie star.

"I think," Mark managed, slightly breathless, "I can handle that."

Aziel ran his other hand down Mark's cheek, meeting his gaze tenderly. Mark reminded Aziel of a cherub sometimes, with his round face and wide, innocent eyes. He swept his thumb under the other's eye, brushing his bottom lashes.

"Mark," Aziel whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I want you," Aziel breathed.

Every time, no matter how often, Mark flushed. His eyes shuddered and his lips parted. "Aziel..."

Mark's hand tightened on Aziel's chest. Slowly, he started to work at the buttons, revealing inch after inch of toned, hard flesh. Aziel shifted, settling back on the couch a little more as Mark's fingers disrobed him. Soft lips followed his fingers, kissing tenderly along the curve of his chest and the ripple of his stomach. Aziel's hand caught his chin.

"No," he said breathlessly. "Don't use your mouth. I want to hear you. I want to take you, split you, and make you beg for me."

A shudder ran through Mark's body. The rich darkness of his words stirred Mark's lust, and he nodded his head. Pulling away from the dark knight sprawled on the couch, Mark yanked his tie free and let it fall to the floor. Methodically, watching Aziel's ice chip eyes, he started to disrobe. The blue eyes swept over him, missing nothing as he exposed himself. Mark knew that Aziel loved it when he stripped for him. Every soft curve, every delicate edge of his joints, and the flush of color in his nipples.

Soon, the boy stood before the other, slim and exposed. His member was hard between his legs, and Mark attempted to use one hand to cover it. The tip of his length stuck out beyond the heel of his hand, against his stomach. It looked needy.

Aziel leaned forward, unable to hide his eagerness. "Come to me," he ordered.

Mark, still flushing, stepped between Aziel's legs. He leaned down and touched the bulge between his legs, knowing that it was all for him. Aziel's eyes shuddered and he groaned as Mark's fingers teased him through the fabric.

Lips parted in a soft, enticed pant, Mark slipped the zipper on Aziel's pants open. He lay aside the sides of his trousers as if he were unwrapping something delicate and fine. With both hands, Mark reached in and pulled free Aziel's length.

Mark loved the way he felt in his hands. Smooth and yielding, but with the underlying hardness that was the promise of pleasure. Mark touched the edges of the swollen tip, felt along the gently pulsing veins, and down to the border of his trimmed dark hair. Aziel's hips shifted as Mark stroked up his length once, pressing his fingers against the tip. Slowly, he bent over and licked the tip, looking up at Aziel as he did so.

"I love how you sound," Mark whispered. He reached forward with one hand and laced his fingers with Aziel's. Aziel shifted on the couch again as the naked youth slid over top of him. Meeting gazes ablaze with lust, Aziel and Mark watched the change in the other's expression as Mark settled on his lap. Lips puffed with lust slid against Aziel's ear.

"Do you want to make me slick?" Mark asked.

Aziel purred softly at the words, reaching into the small end table and taking out the small tube of lubricant. He squeezed some of the jelly onto his fingers, letting it slip between the pads before he lightly teased Mark's opening. Mark held his breath, sucking in his bottom lip.

Aziel's finger circled Mark's opening twice, and then pulled back. He took a little more of the gel and ran it down his own length, just enough for the skin to gleam. Taking Mark's hand again, fingers tightly intertwined, he looked back up at him.

"Kiss me," Aziel breathed.

Mark leaned forward and kissed his lover feverishly, his lips throbbing with the promise of contact. Immediately, tongue to tongue, Aziel and Mark slipped into each other. Aziel's free hand grasped the base of his length and Mark positioned himself over top.

The kiss shattered as Aziel moved into him. Mark cried out against him, his eyes squeezing shut. As he pushed downward, Aziel's hand grasped his rear and squeezed firmly. Mark squeezed Aziel's hand and ran the other through the long locks of his dark hair. The shaft slid into him, hard and thick inside him. He felt it press against everything pleasurable, drowning out the initial pain.

He was complete.

The lovers moved together as one on the couch, gentle and soft. Their lips touched and danced, tongues twining and stroking against each other.

Their dance lasted forever on the couch, an eternity of gentle movements, soft gasps, and deep, bodily shudders. Mark gulped for air, having trouble controlling himself. Aziel gazed at him steadily as Mark shifted up and down along his member, groaning as he clenched.

"Please..." Mark gasped. "F-fuck me... Make me come."

Aziel squeezed his fingers with his own, pulling Mark firmly down onto him. He could never refuse his lover, not when his own climax was so long in building. Jerking Mark's member now, he arched up into him and cried out in pleasure. Mark squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the other come inside of him, and the heat of the other's hand on his member forced his own eruption. Not holding back, Mark's voice ran out into the penthouse. Bucking together in the waning wake of their climaxes, they panted.

Mark collapsed against him, his body shivering and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. It amazed him how Aziel could do that. Mark closed his eyes, knowing with certainty that this was what love was, that this is what it felt like when it trapped you.

"I love you," Mark said, releasing Aziel's hand to favor hugging his neck.

Aziel encircled his arms around Mark. "And I love you."

Three hours later...

Aziel stood in a small back room of his penthouse that he kept locked. He told Mark that it contained all of his private documents of his cases at the law firm, and Mark never asked another question. In reality, the room contained boxes of papers; floor plans, police reports, and coroner's reports. Here, in large blue cases, he kept his rifles, handguns, poisons, and knives. There was even a full-length, folded katana.

The other side of the room was set up like a basic chemistry lab. There was a low bench that had a gas, air, and vacuum outlet. There were lines of clean beakers on shelves, as well as a glass case that held marked and labeled chemicals. There were several jars that were marked with much more sinister labels; skulls and crossbones, skeletal hands, and big, red, block letters proclaiming that it was toxic. Over the bench there hung a large steel fume hood.

Aziel sat at the low, sleek bench. He had locked the door after himself; he never allowed Mark in here, or even allowed for the opportunity of Mark to stumble in here. It would be... difficult to remedy.

Carefully, Aziel swirled the beaker above the Bunsen burner. He looked at the fluid within, waiting for the white precipitate to dissolve. When he was satisfied, he placed the beaker on a cooling mat and pulled a small vial from the top shelf of the glass cabinet. He poured some of the mixture in the vial into the beaker, and watched the two fluids mix in a hazy swirl.

He allowed the mixture to cool for several minutes before he transferred it into three small vials. He labeled each one. HVmix - Batch 01A through Batch 01C Satisfied, he cleaned out the flask he was using and placed the small vials along with four clean, sterile syringes into a linen case, wrapped heavily in padding. He placed this bag by the door, next to his larger blue cases that contained his custom weapons.

Ready for another day at the office, Aziel thought, a small, amused smile on his face.

Removing his lab coat, he hung it on a nail next to the door.

Exiting the small room, Aziel made double sure to lock it. He pocketed the key and sauntered back to his bedroom. He stood at the door, leaning on the frame as he watched Mark's nude, pale body sleep silently between the sheets. His unmarred back was to him, his ribs visible with each slow, even breath.

I love you...

Such alien words... but words he would never speak without understanding the full gravity of them. There were lies to keep the peace, and there were lies to even the ground.

But lies about love... those sickened him. He would never lie about something so bold.

He stood at the bedside and ran his fingers through Mark's smooth, dark hair.

"I love you," he whispered into the darkness.

The only clue to Mark hearing his words was a soft smacking of his lips, before the dream overtook him again.

Copyright © 2010 Archangel_of_Pain; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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