Alexandria

by K.H. Ivywater

Begun on November 29, 2002, and completed on December 19, 2002.

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"Please."

His voice begging...

"Please, Darius."

Wanting...needing. Quiet syllables murmured from bruised lips.

"Darius."

My name rolling off his tongue, whispered. A tone made to seduce.

"I need this."

Spoken as if he had a clue.

"Darius!"

Tears now, pleading with tears. Pale, girlish hands slip into my open shirt as a warm body presses close, searching for a reaction. Fingers move up to the back of my neck, forcing my head down, down to a naked shoulder. He tilts his head to the side then, baring the place I've only ever once dared bite.

"No. No."

My words, in the grave timbre of one whose resolve is wearing away. Trying to keep control, but finding it so hard.

"Why?"

A question I leave alone, as it has oft been answered. As he realizes I mean not to speak, he pulls something from behind himself where it must have fit snugly between his flesh and his leather trousers. A dagger. A beautiful blade with a jagged edge, almost too ornate for this day and age. But no, not for us. It suits us.

"You don't want me?"

Another question I refuse to answer, followed by a shorter silence, and then the blade rises. He teases his neck, idly pressing the knife to the hollow of his throat and then across the vein -- the large, pulsing vein that I can clearly see. His eyes, a few seconds ago inviting, turn cold to match the sudden movement of his hand. The blade purposely strikes to the side, glancing upon his shoulder and leaving a bloody wound in its wake. He doesn't utter a sound.

In contrast, I moan at the abrupt, intoxicating scent. Of its own volition, my head moves down, my mouth descending upon his flesh in a frantic, hungry fury. I hear his gasp just before his fingers tangle in my hair and his head tilts unobtrusively to the side. Blood -- his blood, this intimate part of him -- flows into my mouth, burning as it goes down my throat, and oh, I am in Elysia.

"Impertinent brat."

My whisper as I finish, sliding a fang across my tongue and then running my tongue along the slash, leaving unmarred skin in its wake. I attempt a scowl but it fails, for the blood coursing through my veins gives me every illusion that I have found my long-sought home, the essence of my ancient Alexandria, and all I can feel is elation.

"Mmm, yes, but altogether yours."

Ah. Well...of that there is no doubt, but his voice is smug. I push him away, not allowing him a thorough victory, giving him no more chance to gloat. The insolent smirk instantly gives way to an expression of hurt as he stands there, breathing heavily from his encounter with my canines. His arrogant tone has served to ground me slightly, but I am still reeling from the taste of his blood. The room around me seems tainted with crimson, and I struggle to see through the delirium. A glint of silver infiltrates the haze, and then I notice the blade. Held at his throat, inches below fearless eyes.

"I will do it."

A threat as he grips the dagger tightly. I force myself from the fever of the drink, sobering quickly for I know he does not jest in this.

"I don't fear it, Darius. Do not underestimate me."

Nothing is said for a time as we stare at each other. And then in one horrid, fluid movement, it pierces skin. Slices across the vein. And he has won.

The blade falls to the floor. I catch him before he follows it. I lower my head to taste the life flowing out of him, and then pull back to look upon him for the briefest moment. I need not even think about this, of my answer to his action. I knew what it would be long ago.

I slide a fang across my wrist, and then offer it silently. He takes my hand in his own, moving his lips over the wound, his tongue lapping at the blood. I close my eyes at the feeling, his teeth against my skin, his mouth wanting more. As he finishes, he places a kiss on the healing flesh, and then stops to look up at me, a small smile playing about his lips. And then his eyes close.

As I sit here regarding this boy in my arms, I wonder at my silence, my inaction. With a word I may have persuaded him otherwise. With a mere movement I might have taken the dagger from him, forced his obedience, kept him from that mortal wound.

But now...now, devastatingly stormy green eyes have opened and are meeting my own. How long have I been sitting here? No...no, it doesn't matter...not with those eyes staring into mine, defining everything and nothing, making time irrelevant, erasing the whole of existence save for us.

In this moment, all knowledge is bare to me. I know every hidden strata of this boy, every nuance of his spirit. I know every subtle, darkened sepulcher of my own being. And then suddenly I know. I know the reason for my silence...I know why I let him win.

It is because I have found my home. Though it differs greatly from the white marble of my beloved Alexandria, my place is with him. For all time.

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The End