The Unmasking by Ash Kennedy Act I: The Masquerade The coming night was sweltering, the air as hot and moist as the breath of the black dragon that stood beneath the weeping willow tree. Even with the setting sun beating down upon them the tree bowed and the dragon slumped, as if they were too exhausted from the day's thrashing to right themselves. It was only May and the heat was but a mere whisper of what the summer would bring, like one's first taste of an apple gone rancid. Sweet as candy, at first, and then much to bitter to bear. This the dragon knew because he threw the Masquerade at the same time every year, when the Spring was retreating to make way for the Summer that would arrive with the coming solstice. He could hear the cars pulling up to his driveway in the distance, the guests arriving one by one to enjoy the night's festivities. Invited were all that he knew would come, both mortals and those like himself--blood drinkers. The façade held no purpose for his kind save for the fact that they did not have to hide their true nature. But for the humans it was a short descent into debauchery, something they knew little of in their desire for daily routine. Although he'd grown wary of this perpetual game of kings and pawns the humans liked to play ages ago, it was for this reason that he continued to host the Masquerade. He'd be a fool to turn his back on such a wealth of pleasure that was his for his taking; that he could control and manipulate as he saw fit. As trickles of sweat ran down the dragon's face, beneath the crevices of his leather mask to bead on his exposed lips, he cast his eyes towards the moon. It was full, the perfect phase for such a night. He smiled and was about to turn and head back to his house to greet his guests when he noticed the figure leaning on the wrought iron fence that enclosed his gardens. It was watching him through the eye-slits of a mask with a protruding curved beak --The Egyptian god Horus, by the look of the painted details. There was something all too familiar about him. As the dragon approached him, it was the hair he recognized first. It was dark, almost black like his own but wavy instead of straight. Then there was the mouth. A sculpted, beautiful mouth with lips that were always pale and hardly ever turned up in a smile. And the eyes---even through the mask he could tell they were the deep green of oak leaves, of emeralds. "So you've come," the dragon said to the stranger, his voice barely above a whisper as he stopped in front of him. "I must say, I didn't expect this." Horus straightened up, his frame taller then the black dragon's by a few inches. "I'm not here for the reasons you think I am." "Oh?" "You invited me, so I came. I merely wanted to see you. It's been a long time." "Not nearly long enough." "You always say that. Every time we see each other, it's always the same thing. You still handle things between us like a child." Moonlight glistened on the curves of the Dragon's horns as he cocked his head, making the leather look sleek and supple. "It will never be long enough," he breathed, and turning his back on the hawk god, began to walk towards the house. Horus fell into step beside him without being prompted and the dragon started the conversation up again. "So, where is the lovely wife? Has she decided to join us tonight too?" "She's back at the Estate. With the baby." Beneath his mask the dragon's eyebrows shot up. "How old?" "Two years next month." "I see. How courteous of you to have told me so soon." "I didn't think you would care," Horus replied and shrugged. "After all, you didn't so much as bother to attend the wedding." "That, little brother, was an entirely different situation." "So you say." The dragon's lips parted with a sigh. "Let's not discuss this now. It's not the time nor place. I have guests to attend to." "Yes, it would be a pity if they were to be denied their hedonistic desires." "If you don't like it, you are welcomed to leave. You've come on your own accord, knowing what you would encounter, and nobody is keeping you here." They'd reached the house and the dragon stood aside as he held the back door open for Horus, who seemed to have second thoughts about stepping over the threshold. "Do not upset my guests, either. If you do I cannot promise I'll be civil in how I deal with you. Now are you coming in or not?" Horus bowed his head and stepped inside. = = = The hawk god kept close to his black dragon brother as they glided through the rooms of the enormous house. They mingled with both vampire and mortal alike dressed up in colorful feathers, intricate makeup, and flamboyant clothing made of an array of materials. Twice they explored the wine cellar and picked out the finest vintage the dragon had, which they share between them as they made the rounds. Some guests hadn't wasted any time in removing their costumes and ravishing one another, and half of those hadn't even bothered to find an empty room. The house was a throbbing, groaning mass of tangled bodies and bare skin, all sensuality drained out of it by the shear wantonness of it all to leave the withered husk of passion in it's wake. It struck Horus as beyond obscene, bordering on animalistic, and he wondered how his brother could stand such a display. He wasn't inclined to ask, though. He'd just get shown the door. Horus didn't know how long they'd been roaming the crowd until he felt the great pressure in his bladder and realized they'd been doing it long enough to have finished off two bottles of wine. The bathrooms were all occupied but since the house had been fashioned in the old style there were also bathrooms outside that he could use. As he stumbled towards them he also realized he was quite drunk and it was only by the dragon keeping a watchful eye on him that he managed to make it without incident. He leaned against the wall for support as he undid his slacks, steadying himself as he aimed for the bowl. It was then that he noticed the particularly beautiful young man watching him, his eyes so light brown they were orange. They were wide with either desire or drugs, Horus couldn't tell which, and he had hair dyed an electric blue to match a blue-devil costume he was wearing. But he was sans mask. The only accessory he wore were two blue horns that spiraled from his temples as if they had grown out of his skin. His movements were graceful as he slid closer, his muscles flowing like liquid beneath his tight clothing. All his exquisiteness was shattered when he reached out and brushed the head of the hawk god's cock with his fingertips. "You want to give me a golden shower?" he asked, his lips hovering close to Horus' mouth. "We don't have to fuck. I'll blow you afterward." The Egyptian god was caught off guard, and so he shoved the man away from him, slamming him against the sink. He heard a moan of pain as he redid his pants and scrambled out of the bathroom, where the black dragon caught him before he could be knocked over from the rush. "What happened?" the dragon asked quietly. "Nothing. I just---." But the dragon's eyes were like the dark pits of hell beneath his mask and he growled, brandishing fangs lengthened to sharp points. "Jasper," he hissed between his teeth and sat his brother down on a stone bench.Stalking into the bathroom, he emerged a few seconds later dragging the man now known as Jasper by his collar. "What gives scum like you the right to touch my brother?" the dragon demanded of him as he pulled him to his knees. "II didn't know he was. Man, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I just wanted to get off." Horus winced as the dragon backhanded him, sending him flopping to the ground, and jabbed a boot into his ribs. "Jasper, you have tried my patience many times before." He waited until Jasper's pain had subsided to kick him again, the man clutching himself and rolling on to his stomach. "And this time I have ample reason to kill you were you lie." The dragon crossed his arms over his chest and sneered, placing his foot in the middle of Jasper's back. He bore down, eliciting a whimper. "But I'm a fair man. I'll give you a sporting chance. Maybe if you beg for your life enough I'll let you off with just the bones I've already broken." "Please, no. Please don't kill me. I didn't know. I wouldn't have done it. Oh, shit. I'm too young. I'll do anything you want" The words came out in rapid-fire succession, blurring into each other to form one helpless plea.But still the dragon bore down harder with his foot, the sharp noise of bone cracking in the night air unmistakable. "Spare me the clichés." "No, no. I'll do it. I mean it. I'll lick your fucking boots if you want me to. Just don't kill me." "Not good enough." The dragon cracked his knuckles, balling his hand into a fist. He readied to bring it down upon the back of Jasper's head, anticipating the great rush that would come as the head burst and splattered its contents all over him. "Don't," a voice interrupted and he turned to see his brother had grabbed his elbow. It wasn't a hard grip by far, quite easy to pull away from, but he understood the gesture and slowly lowered his fist. It wasn't like him, he realized, to back down so easily. But the haunted look in Horus' eyes had shaken him for a moment and the foundation of his initial anger had crumbled in the wake. He stood there unmoving, gaze on his brother as he watched him kneel down in the grass and press his fingers gingerly to the base of Jasper's neck. He knew that the hawk god was checking for any fractures in the collarbone or neck, not for a pulse. The dragon was strong for his kind, and he'd attacked rashly. It was possible he had scarred the young man for life. He deserved it, he thought, but yet he still didn't feel that was entirely true. Something else had made him snap. Something that forced him into a rage as soon as he had brushed his brother's mind with his own and seen what had happened. It was, dare he admit it, a loyalty to his sibling. The overbearing desire to protect the one thing that mattered to him. "Help me with him," Horus demanded, breaking his concentration, and the dragon nodded and grabbed the man under the arms without thinking. His mind was elsewhere as he and his brother carried the body inside. Still lingering on the strange thoughts that were crossing his mind, no doubt. But by the time they had laid Jasper in an empty room and treated his wounds, those thoughts were forgotten. ACT II 'Horus & The Dragon Converse' Horus asked, "Couldn't you just have let me use that one before?" as he emerged from the private bathroom that was attached to the black dragon's bedroom. The bedroom itself was lacking personal belongings, as spartan and impersonal as a hospital or hotel room. Horus noticed a few books on the nightstand, classics mostly, but he doubted his brother would waste the time to read such things. There were paintings adorning the wall as well. Goya, and Dali, and Duchamp. All originals, he noticed, and well taken care of. Seemingly out of place was a large entertainment center, complete with big screen projection TV. Horus picked up the movie cases that were lying on the DVD player and ran his fingers over the plastic as if they were cherished keepsakes. He figured it was out of respect for his brother, whom he suspected of treasuring what little he kept around. "The Maltese Falcon," he read aloud. "Key Largo, Casablanca. I wasn't aware you liked Bogart so much." The dragon had taken off his shirt and tossed it on his bed, his socks and shoes on the floor. He stood at the picture window looking down at the rows of cars parked neatly in his driveway, valets still milling about as guests continued to arrive. Moonlight brushed him, casting unnatural, almost sinister shadows across the planes of his pale skin. When he turned to face the hawk god they shifted with him, crawling and squirming in every direction as if they were alive. "'What I've got to do, you can't be any part of,'" he began to recite, each word slow and precise. His black eyes glistened with intensity from beneath the mask as he focused on his brother. "'I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.'" "Very impressive," Horus said and smiled. But the dragon didn't smile back. His gaze was still fixed on his brother and there was an air to his stance that pulled tension taught in the air, as if he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on his prey. He knew he was making Horus uncomfortable by the way the hawk flinched when he slid closer, but it was not as if he could help it. There were the stirrings of something within him that he did not possess control over; didn't know if he wanted to stop even if he could. He sat down on one of the armchairs scattered about the room and looked up at the ceiling. "Tell me about your child," he said. Horus sat down opposite him and reached to take off his mask. But the dragon was quick and slid his fingers around the hawk's wrist before he could remove it, his grip gentle yet as strong as steel. "The Masquerade's not over yet," he said simply and released him. The Egyptian god didn't understand the logic but if his brother wanted to continue whatever they were playing at he had no reason to object. He leaned back in his chair and drew his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open. "He looks like you." Horus said and handed him the wallet. From beneath creased plastic a child with hair like raven's feathers and eyes the color of the night sea sat holding a colored sippie cup with brightly painted cartoon characters on it. He was smiling, perfectly white baby teeth bared. "You only have one?" the dragon asked without taking his eyes off of the picture. "We had some difficulties." "Relationship difficulties?" There were the first traces of a smirk creeping along the dragon's lips. "No. As much as you'd love for the situation to be different, our relationship is fine." "That's not a particularly polite thing to accuse your brother of now, is it?" "Maybe not. But your actions speak louder then words." "What actions, pray tell?" "Your lack of actions, actually." "My absence at your wedding again? Aren't you growing weary of discussing that?" "All these years, every time I've confronted you about it, you haven't given me a straight answer." "And why should I have to answer to you?" "Because I'm your brother, and I care enough not to want to see things between us go to hell again. And despite your objections, I know you don't too." In one fluid motion, the dragon rose from his seat, muscles flexing as gracefully as a dancer's. For a moment Horus thought he'd overstepped his boundaries but the dragon merely reached out and pressed the wallet back into his brother's hand. "'When your head says one thing and your whole life says another, your head always loses.'" "It doesn't have to be that way." "Doesn't it?" The dragon sighed and crossed the room. "What's the child's name? I don't think you mentioned it." "Pagolo." "Ah, a good choice. If you had named him after father I would have had to throttle you." He turned to the door and threw it open. "But I think it's time we got back to my guests. I'm not being a very good host locked up in here with you." "You are, however, doing a fine job of changing the subject." The dragon stopped halfway over the threshold, his entire body rigid. For several seconds he neither moved nor spoke. And then, slowly, he turned to meet the hawk god's eyes. "What is your real reason for coming here, little brother?" he asked, his voice low and full of a tired fury. As if he'd traveled so far that he could no longer find the strength to go on. "I thought that perhaps you might have really wanted to see me, but now I think you may have had an ulterior motive. Did that bitch--" Horus was on his feet in seconds, practically throwing himself in his brother's face. "You have no right to call her that." "Are you going to stop me? I could so easily get myself invited into your home, fuck your wife like some two penny whore, tear your precious child's throat out, and you wouldn't be able to do _ anything_ against me." "Maybe there was a time when such threats might have enraged me, but I know you better now, and I know they're empty. They have no power over me anymore." "You're a fool, then." The Egyptian Deity laughed. "Aren't you tired of spouting off the same rhetoric after six centuries? The whole thing is getting old." The dragon folded his arms over his chest and stared at Horus, but there was a distant gleam to his eyes, as if he were thinking it over. "You're right," he agreed after some time had passed, surprising himself with his sincerity. "It is old. But it's also ingrained in my being. There's nothing to be done about it." "Or so you'd like to believe." "Alright. If I could change, then what? Would you invite me over for Christmas, let me carve your goddam turkey and pass out the presents at midnight like some ridiculous fantasy straight out of a Dicken's novel?" "I'd do that whether or not you changed." "Then why haven't you?" "Because I didn't think you cared. You've never acted like you have before." "Of course I care!" Two women wearing feathered masks who were busy undressing each other in the hallway stopped to stare at him, and it was only then that the dragon realized he had raised his voice. He cleared his throat and lowered it to a purr. "You said yourself my actions speak louder then words." The hawk pressed his lips together and turned away. His thoughts were on his brother's willingness to snuff out Jasper's life in defense of him, of the many times he'd thought he was teetering on the edge of death and his brother had pulled him back. When he didn't speak for some time, the dragon grabbed him by the arm and lead him into the hall. The bedroom door was closed and locked behind him and he was brought to the staircase. "Where are we going?" he asked as they descended the stairs. "To tend to the guests," the dragon answered simply. "They must have worked up an appetite by now." "Oh. So...do you really think my wife's a bitch?" There was a hardly a pause before the dragon answered. "No. But what does my opinion matter? She's your wife, not mine." Act III "The Unmasking" And so Horus and the dragon watched the guests gorge themselves on fruits and meats and pastries, the dragon selecting a plump leg of turkey for himself. Juice burst forth from the skin as he dug his teeth into it, spattered his lips where he licked it away with a swipe of his tongue. He offered some to the hawk, but the Egyptian Deity declined with a shake of his head. "More for me, then," he said and tore away at it like a starving animal. When he'd finished he turned to his brother and said, "There's something I want to show you." They left the house and roamed the yard, where the masquerade had spilled out on to the courtyard and into the gardens. Several men and women had stripped naked and were splashing about in the marble fountain that stood at the gates of the gardens, much to the dragon's chagrin. He chased them out of it then guided Horus through the entrance, where the hawk was lead through rows of multi-colored flowers and swirling vinery until they reached a gazebo carved from stone. On it's benches lay those in the throes of passion, but it had become such a common sight over the course of the evening that Horus ignored them. Instead his attention was focused on the large blue plaque that sat perched on the structure's back wall, which was embossed with a gold lion holding a twig of sage in its paw. On the bottom, carved in sweeping silver lettering, was the name 'Salvatore.' And hung on the racks attached to the back, two identical steel swords that jarred the hawk god with their familiarity. The dragon drew one of the swords from its perch and held it up in front of him. "They're fine weapons," he stated. "Truly an accomplishment for the artisan, considering he didn't have much to replicate them from." He removed the other sword and hefted it in his hand. "This one's yours. It's lighter." Horus took the weapon as it was handed to him, gripping it by the handle with both hands as if afraid of what memories it would conjure up. But whatever he was expecting, it wasn't the sense of awe that came upon him. The sword was perfectly balanced to him and felt natural in his grip. "The sword that pierced your heart," the dragon said more to himself then his brother as he admired his blade. "And that which pierced yours." Horus stated back, running his fingers along the edge of his own. "Care for a rematch?" Horus was taken aback by the question but the dragon continued without waiting for him to answer. "I promised my guests entertainment, after all. And what's more entertaining then two vampire brothers reenacting their human demise at the hands of each other?" Horus's eyes were smoldering from beneath his mask, turning a green as intense as his anger. "How could you even suggest that?" "How could I /not/? We're invulnerable from the blades. And we're faster, stronger---hell, who's to say I'll fell you first this time?" The hawk god seemed to give it some thought, and when he'd come to a conclusion he cast his eyes away from his brother and sighed. "Alright then, damn it. I'll fight you. I hardly see what's so important about it, but I know how relentless you are in your badgering." The dragon smiled. "I knew you'd agree." And Horus glared. == Together the brothers stood in the greater dining hall facing each other, their weapons at the ready, their bodies poised for the first attack. A sea of anonymous, masked bodies without any rhythm to their diversity flanked them, staring out at them from the shadows that flickered across their faces. The only source of light was coming from the fireplace, which roared and cracked and spat like some enraged animal. The dragon had said it would add to the atmosphere, and he'd been right. Horus felt as if his life depended on his victory, even though he knew he wouldn't be harmed. The grandfather clock chimed two am and Horus barely had time to plan his strategy before his brother launched into an attack. He held his sword up just as the dragon's came crashing down on it, the sound of steel grinding against steel echoing off the walls. The horned beast smiled, his eyes dancing with the reflection of the flames as they met the hawk deity's across their weapons. Coupled with the lengthened canines poking slightly from beneath his lips, he looked demonic. Horus broke free from their grappling and stepped back. But he knew, now, how his brother wanted this to work and he didn't waste time in making his next move. He gripped his sword in one hand and thrust it forward with all his weight. But his brother was quick and sidestepped it. He grabbed the hawk by the arm that wasn't equipped and yanked him against his chest. The impact would have knocked a human backwards, but neither of them seemed to flinch. The dragon's lips almost brushed the hawk's as he spoke. "Bad form. And entirely ungraceful." He gave a mock sigh. "Haven't you learned better by now?" Horus knew there was innuendo buried beneath the surface of his brother's words. He could hear the thick strands of it in his voice, see it in the upturned corners of his lips. But what the dragon was trying to get at, he couldn't fathom. He was released and propelled back by a shove, and if he hadn't quickly retrieved his footing he would have stumbled over himself. Crooking his fingers, the dragon made a 'come on' motion and hefted the sword against his shoulder in further taunt. The crowd stood absolutely still, an occasional whisper stabbing through the silence, as if they didn't dare to move. Horus's shoes swished against the polished wooden floor as he glided across it, his eyes narrowed to glowing green slits like a wary cat's. Indeed he was wary, unable to calculate his brother's next move and relying on fighting instincts that had grown dull over the centuries. It had been longer then he could remember when he'd last owned a sword, let alone used one. And the dragon...well, he'd always been an excellent swordsman. The passage of time, and his transformation into a vampire, had only given him a reason to hone his skill. Switching to two-handed form, the hawk swung his sword like a bat, but the dragon blocked the blade from colliding with his chest with a mere flick of his own sword. Horus, however, was not about to give up so easily and he held the sword above him as if he was about to cleave someone's head in two. When it came slicing down towards his opponent, the dragon used his blade as a shield. Pain shot up his arms as the weapon struck against his, jarring his grip. He grimaced and held on, darting away like a snake coiling to strike, then sending his sword tearing upward from their feet in a sweeping arc. He knew he had struck flesh even before he heard the rising murmur of the guests and heard Horus's groan of agony. Jubilation was racing through his blood, bubbling to the surfaceuntil he saw what he had done. The mask of Horus was destroyed. The swords had never been used before, and the edge of the blades pure perfection, so the leather was cleanly split down the middle in almost two halves. Only the beak kept the pieces from falling away from each other. A hand pulled it away from the face it sat perched upon and threw it to the floor, revealing the wound beneath. It was a shallow cut, starting between the eyes and stretching to the forehead, but blood drooled freely from it and washed the visage beneath in crimson. The dragon watched his brother, his astonishment dissipating as soon as it had come, but found he couldn't help himself. He reached out and cradled the dark-haired head in his hands. And, leaning in to press his lips and tongue to the wound, began to suckle at it. The blood was sweet against his tongue, just how he remembered. Intensely passionate, borderline orgasmic, and shot through with a hint of bitterness that gave it an edge. He reveled in it, working the wound like a lover. It didn't matter that there were a hundred or more people watching him; didn't matter that if he concentrated he could feel his brother's body tensing against him in defiance. The world was narrowed to the point where nothing else existed save for him and that which satiated his thirst. But the blood was trickling away to nothing as the wound rippled and flexed against his mouth, the flesh reforming even as he strived to get the last droplets. Reluctantly he broke away and ran his tongue over lips that were swollen and stained crimson, his eyes dilated to pinpoints as he met his brother's. The green-eyed man stared back at him, his own eyes alight with fury. "First blood," he deadpanned. And, raising the sword he still held, hit his brother against the head with the flat of the blade. The dragon had been too lulled by the gut of blood he'd taken to predict the move, let alone react. His head exploded with pain like a thousand stinging needles as the force knocked him sideways and sent him to the ground where his brother pushed him on to his back with a foot and straddled his chest. Gingerly he slid his fingers under the edge of the dragon mask, separating the leather from the skin underneath and pushing it off. He knocked it away, sending it sliding across the floor to where the remains of the Horus mask lay. Staring up at him were eyes rimmed with thick, black makeup. It would have seemed comical if not for how sheerly sinister it looked, an effect he knew his brother had probably planned. A savage grin swept across the features beneath him. "All that just to see my face? You flatter me, little brother." The green-eyed man shook his head and, his sword falling from his hand with a clatter, rose to his feet. "I'm leaving," he sighed, and headed for the door. ACT IV 'A Gap Bridged Between Siblings: An Acceptance' The younger brother leaned in the arch of the front doorway, watching the valets retrieve cars, help the guests in, check off something on their clipboards, and repeat. This had been going on for a half hour now, and the clock in the foyer had chimed three long ago. He wondered what he was still doing there, watching the decadent citizens file out of the house as they returned to the normalcy of their daily lives. Tomorrow they'd wake up, take a shower, and forget all this had ever happened. Well, some of them wouldn't. Some of them would keep paper cards they'd written someone's number on, slip them out and dial the phone when their husbands or wives were away. Fantasies, escapes, a chance to have a better orgasm. Humans were so simple sometimes. He stopped himself. For a moment there he had started to sound like his brother, who managed to revel in such affairs while scoffing at them at the same time. That type of attitude was a paradox, he supposed. One side would never prevail over the other. And his brother was nothing if not a paradox. "I thought you were leaving," came a voice from behind him. He didn't turn when he answered. "I am." "Interesting, since you're still lingering here." "Damn you...why must you always be such a heckler?" "It's my nature. Or maybe it's just that I was fortunate enough to be blessed with you as my brother." He chuckled and the younger vampire felt the wood he was leaning on shift as if something had settled against it. Silence descended between them and drew on for several minutes, all in which they listened to the crunch of gravel as cars pulled out of the driveway. "Look at them," the black-eyed vampire finally said, indicating the humans. "Scurrying back to lives as worn thin as Gothic Literature. Such simple creatures, aren't they?" The green-eyed man was momentarily jolted by how similar the comments were to his own thoughts. He tried to chalk them up to his brother's telepathic talents, let them pass unnoticed, but he couldn't help himself. He erupted into laughter. The older vampire's voice was as sharp as a razor's edge when he spoke. "Well, I'm glad I could amuse you, but I hardly find it /that/ funny," His brother turned to face him then, his smile still intact, and was about to say something when his lips sobered and his eyes turned the color of peat moss. The older vampire was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and he noticed the change, followed his brother's gaze. Jasper stood in the hall staring back at them as if they were two growling, snarling lions guarding the gates to his salvation. He looked exhausted and was supporting himself against the base of the staircase that lead up to the other floors. Someone had bandaged him, the tight, clean edges of adhesive tape winding around his chest and ribs beneath his unbuttoned shirt. The black-eyed vampire looked him up and down. He sighed as if he was about to perform a task that would cost him time and energy that he didn't have to waste, and crossed the distance to the young man. Pulling a money clip from his pants pocket, he plucked a few notes off the wad of lire it held. "Here," he said and shoved the money into Jasper's hand. "I'll call you a taxi to take you to the hospital. Give my name when you get there and tell them the bill for what medical attention you need should be sent to me." Jasper nodded and stared at the money in his hand. His eyes widened slightly when he realized how much the vampire had given him but he said nothing. The older vampire had already picked up the phone on the foyer desk-- a classically styled model, complete with rotating numbers-- and was dialing. While Jasper waited he allowed his eyes to wander to the younger vampire who was still leaning in the doorway. Their gazes met for the briefest moments. "Sorry about before, man," Jasper muttered, his face contorting with pain as the memory of the beating brushed his mind. The green-eyed man just nodded, accepting the apology. The older vampire set the phone down and raised his eyebrows at both of them. Then he shook his head and fixed Jasper with a look that would have made the devil himself turn tail and flee. "Half an hour," he informed him. "Would you like a drink while you wait?" ===== /That was something I didn't think you were capable of/ came the younger vampire's voice in the older one's head as they showed Jasper out of the house and helped him to his ride. /What?/ /You were actually being civil towards him/ The taxi door slammed and the driver pulled away in a spray of gravel, but the brothers continued to communicate mentally. /Yes, well...I was angry with him before/ /But he wasn't doing anything that anybody else there wasn't/ /He..../ /He what?/ The older vampire didn't answer and set back towards his house.But his brother wasn't going to back down so easily. He had a theory; one that had been on his mind since he'd arrived and had only grown since then. He hurried after his sibling, grabbing him by the arm and jerking him back. /Tell me/ he demanded. / He assaulted you/ /But that's not the only reason, is it?/ Tearing out of the hold on him, the black-eyed vampire growled and continued walking. His brother followed him. /It's not, isn't it? You've defended me before, but there's always been something else to it/ Silence. /I told you your actions speak louder then your words, and it's been at the back of my thoughts through the course of the night. The wedding...you didn't come because you coveted Elena and it hurt you to see her with me. I think I understand now. I think it was painful for you to face losing _ me_ to _her _. I think I may just be the one thing you value in your life. And you can't bear the thought of having that taken away from you/ The older vampire had reached the front door and stormed inside. /Goddam you. Answer me, Damon!/ At the mention of his name, the dark haired vampire whirled around. His lips were skinned back from his teeth, making him as savagely beautiful as a wolf defending its kill. The black makeup around his eyes only added to the illusion. "Well it's taken you fucking long enough to figure it out!" he growled, too furious to speak telepathically. His brother flinched at the animosity that soaked Damon's words. He stepped back and leaned against the stairway banister, putting some distance between them. "Does it please you to hear it?" Damon went on. "That I need you? Do you like to see me raw and vulnerable even if just for a moment?" The words were flung like daggers, razor-sharp and able to tear trough flesh and muscle. "No," he stated in a voice that wasn't any louder then a whisper. But Damon had turned his back without listening and started up the stairs. "Go home, Stefan," he replied. "I already know these things about myself, and I do /not/ need you to bring them to the foreground of my thoughts. If anything, you're the one that needs to realize what we feel for each other." He laughed and it was a hollow sound; the sound a soldier might make if he'd just won the lotto only seconds before he'd been called to duty overseas. "I bet you've denied it all this time, and all this night. You accuse me of not giving a damn about your life, but you know that's a false accusation. You can feel my attraction as much as I can feel yours. You know it's mutual." Cocking his head, the older vampire watched as his brother cast his eyes down, the lines of his mouth drawing tight. He smirked, recognizing the signs of guilt rising in his sibling's mind. "Well, goodnight," he said after a few seconds, as if nothing had occurred between them. "I hope you've enjoyed yourself and might consider coming back to visit. And bring Elena too, next time. And Pagolo. Hell, bring those human friends of yours too, if it pleases you. It might be interesting to see them all again." He didn't bother to wait for Stefan to answer him and he was on the first floor landing before he heard the footsteps shuffling up after him. He stopped and stood at the picture window there, smiling knowingly as his brother reached the last step. "You're too easy," Damon commented. But Stefan ignored him and regarded him with eyes such an intense green they were reminiscent of Tuscany's lush hills. Confusion swirled in them, but there was also the glint of resolve lurking beneath. "What are we meant to do?" he asked his brother. "Kiss and make up, maybe? How the hell do you expect me to know?" Stefan thought it over, his muscles relaxing as pension crossed his features. "It's a start," he said. Damon rolled his eyes at him and was about to reach out to try and read his brother's thoughts when he stopped himself. Stefan was the weaker of the two vampires but he would still sense the intrusion. And right now violating Stefan's privacy didn't seem like a good idea. The green-eyed man was on the verge of understanding the situation. Instead he asked, "What's a start?" He smirked. "Kissing?" "Yes." Damon raised an eyebrow. "This from a married man. Have you no shame?" "I'm serious, Damon." "I'm serious, too. Do you think that's our final solution? Because if you're right, and it is, it's not going to end there. And that might cause some complications. For you at least. So be sure you want to choose that path." "You're the one that doesn't seem sure about it." "Hardly. I'm just warning you of the consequences. "Yes, but are they really for _my _ benefit?" Damon didn't reply. Slowly he turned to the window behind him and focused his gaze on a spot on a garden where some guests still lingered. His eyes were sharp enough to see they were exhausting the contents of a bright orange bong, passing it around between them. He had his attention was so riveted by them that when he felt his brother's arms slide around his chest he nearly started. But when he'd relaxed they stood at the window together, neither of them saying a word as they continued to watch the guests. "Well, are they?" Stefan broke the silence with. "I can't answer that. I might be as afraid of this as you are but I'm not about to admit it. " "So neither of us is exactly sure?" His brother chuckled. "Seems like it." He quieted and turned his head so that he was looking directly into Stefan's eyes. "But I can speak truthfully about one thing. I haven't taken anyone to bed yet tonight and I wouldn't mind having you decide to join me. You're the only one left here whose worthy of it." Stefan went rigid as his brother averted his eyes back to the window. He wasn't sure if he had heard what he'd just been told correctly, and if he had, he was not prepared to offer that much to his brother. Before it had been implied what would happen and not asked pointblank. Now Damon had just pushed things further and Stefan knew that if he agreed it would change things between them for the rest of their eternal lives. And not only them, but Elena and the baby. If it would be for the better, he wouldn't be able to conclude until it had happened. And something, some gnawing presence at the back of his head that couldn't be mistaken for anything but his own conception, was breaking down his resolve. At last he slumped against his brother's back and said in his ear, "Alright." And Damon couldn't help but grin at his own reflection in the window. ACT V: 'Reconciliation' "You've done this before." It wasn't a question and Damon looked up from where he was cradling Stefan's flaccid cock in his hand. Damon had taken him to the open patio that ran along the back of the second floor, a structure that was carved from solid Italian marble and had a breathtaking view of the star-spattered sky. The both of them were completely naked, the age they had grown up in never having instilled self-consciousness. "Of course," the older vampire answered. "Haven't you?" "I always declined the invitations." "Pity." Damon slid his way up his brother's body, the younger vampire closing his eyes at the contact. Stefan felt lips brush the side of his neck, a tongue slide along where his jugular vein throbbed against the skin. Skin that could be easily torn to let loose the nourishing red river of blood that flowed beneath, if his brother willed it. But Damon moved on and pressed his mouth gingerly to Stefan's. Stefan opened his eyes as Damon pulled away. "This isn't what I expected it to be like," he stated. "We're just getting started." The black-eyed vampire ran his fingers along the cock still in his hand, pushing back the foreskin and rolling his thumb along the head and down the underside of the shaft. Stefan gripped the railing behind him, biting back on a gasp, which managed to escape past his lips when his brother's mouth descended on his nipple. The younger vampire felt something warm and wet tease the flesh and arched against it, grunting when Damon moved across to the other nipple and bit down. It was something that he'd experienced many times before but not quite the same way; Not with the hard, sharp edge of his brother's fangs scraping against the sensitive skin, eliciting shivers from him. The darker haired man's mouth dipped lower, tongue prodding the contours of Stefan's muscles as he worked his way downward. When he looked up, Stefan's eyes were closed and his head tilted back, his throat like a pale, delectable fruit beneath the moonlight. The younger vampire was vulnerable in his state of enrapture, a temptation to whims that were beckoning Damon to satisfy them. But Damon held back on his urge to bite into his brother, if only for the moment, and settled on tasting him in a different way. He dropped to his knees and, grabbing Stefan by the hips, drew the head of his cock into his mouth. Stefan jerked and made to pull away but Damon held fast. His fingers dug into his brother hard enough to bruise and he shot him a look, his black-rimmed, soot-colored eyes gleaming "Feels incredible, doesn't it?" he asked, drawing off his brother so he could speak. "Much better then Elena's mouth, I'm sure." Stefan's shoulders heaved at the mention of his wife and he began to say something, stopped before he could form the words. The older vampire grinned up at him. The slow, exultant grin of a hunter who had just happened upon a prized buck and was preparing for the kill. Without another word he took his brother's cock back into his mouth, sliding down on the shaft till he could feel it pressing against the back of his throat. Stefan groaned and knew in that moment Damon's words were true. Nothing he'd ever done with Elena had felt like this, all warm waves lapping through him and moist, velvet caresses that brushed the inside of his body. Euphoric was a meager word to describe it as, for the way his brother's lips and teeth and tongue worked him was more then that. Damon's hands slid around to grab his sibling 's arse and propel him forward, thrusting the cock further down his throat. His lips met the base of Stefan's groin and he gagged, trying to accommodate the younger vampire's proportions. Instead of allowing himself to adjust, however, he drew his mouth up, tongue licking briefly across the head, and rammed the entire length back down again. From above Stefan watched him with eyes gone smoky with pleasure, and was curious when the black-eyed man eventually pulled away and changed position. At least until he felt Damon's tongue glide slowly along his balls, he was. It was pure, concentrated heat wrapped in fur, grazing the stretch of sensitive flesh between his legs. It moved upward along the crack of his arse, gliding along the edges of the puckered hole there before squeezing inside. His voice erupted in a moan and he bore down on his brother's tongue, feeling it worm deeper inside him. Now thishe hadn't imagined how good of a sensation it could be, how much he could enjoy it. It had always seemed something vaguely obscene when someone had done it to him before. But not now, with his brother licking and sucking at him with voracity born of passion. Now it only sent him trembling and almost brought him to his knees. Stefan's breath was shallow when Damon finally slid his tongue out. The black haired vampire rose to his feet, a victorious warrior, rubbing his face along Stefan's skin like some great contented cat before moving behind him. He said nothing, only nuzzled his brother's ear and wound his arm around his neck. Stefan tilted his head back to meet his eyes, but Damon's gaze was on the starlit sky. He too looked up at the dark, burning sea, allured by its natural beauty. When Damon spoke he kept his eyes on the sky, and his voice came only in a rush of breath. "Let's go to my room." Stefan didn't hesitate to agree. === Damon's bed was softer then Stefan had imagined. He lay on his back, the goose-down mattress conforming to the contours of his body, with his brother stretched out on top of him. Locked were their mouths and tongues, their limbs tangled together, their erections pressed against one another. A black bottle that looked like a hand sanitizing soap container sat on the dresser and Damon leaned over and pumped the nozzle a few times. Clear liquid seeped into his cupped palm.He reached between their entwined bodies and took his brother's cock into his hand, massaging it until it was smooth and slick, then reached behind him to rub the excess into his arse. Stefan watched him, shifting against the sheets. Hot, racing threads of anticipation scurried like panicked rodents through his mind. He felt like a boy about to lose his virginity in the back of a car, all sweaty palms and animal lust. Damon moved up so that the head of Stefan's cock was resting against his opening, and Stefan instinctively gripped the base to keep it steady for him. Endless, swirling black met deep, oak green as they looked at each other. The older vampire chuckled suddenly, as if amused by something, and bared his teeth. "'Life, every now and then, behaves as though it had seen too many bad movies, when everything fits too well - the beginning, the middle, the end - from fade-in to fade-out.'" Stefan smirked back at him. "You quote too many Bogart movies." "Yeah, I do." And Damon took a breath and pushed against his brother. Stefan gasped at the sensation of his sibling moving down his length, muscles parting around him like butter against a warm knife as he slid in deeper. He drew his knees up and arched his hips, pushing himself all the way inside Damon, and managed to educe a stifled moan from the older vampire's throat. They moved together, forming a rhythm. Damon thrust down against Stefan slowly. And Stefan, not needing to be prompted, met each of his thrusts with his hips. Their hands roamed each other's bodies without pattern, rubbing, stroking, grasping. Damon's hands were greasy with lubricant when they touched his brother, but Stefan didn't mind. It felt good where it left trails across his skin, like salve on aches, and he reveled in it. The air was ponderous with the sounds of heavy breathing, of flesh pounding against flesh. Damon grabbed his brother under the arms and pulled him into a sitting position without breaking contact. Their chests glided together, their lips met. Damon's tongue found its way into Stefan's mouth and explored it, curling around and twining with the younger vampire's own. Grunts of ecstasy erupted from their collective throats, came out muffled against their interlocked mouths. They clung to one another like two lost children whose only source of safety and comfort was each other, the younger vampire's hands dipping down his brother's back and grabbing his arse, the older snarling his fingers in his sibling's hair. Eventually Damon broke from his brother's grasp. He rose off of him, taking his time so as not to let him think they were done yet, and flopped on to his back. Stefan stared at his beautifully pale lounging body and understood he was being given the reigns. He crawled towards him, as lithe as a jungle cat hunting prey, and gripped him under the thighs. Damon raised his eyebrows as Stefan angled him into the right position, impressed that his brother hadn't needed to be told what to do. But the look was wiped away by Stefan's cock invading him again. The younger vampire thrust against him like a frenzied animal, and Damon's chest heaved as he moaned with the sweet, unrelenting pleasure of it. Stefan grinned and doubled his efforts, putting his whole body into it as he slammed even harder into him. Damon tried to match his thrusts but was too overwhelmed by the intense sensations and couldn't keep up. He had known what would happen if he let Stefan take over, knew that he would loose most of his control. Something within him hadn't cared, though, had even craved it with a ferocity that could have not had been ignored. Even with the situation having turned out to be far more efficacious then he had imagined, he still wanted it, would have begged his brother to drive him even further into the state he was in if not for his dignity. He was glad he still had that much of himself in check though, and, feeling his brother's muscles go taught against him, reached for his cock and ran his fingers along the engorged flesh. He shuddered, the mingled waves of delight from Stefan fucking him and his own stroking hand almost enough to send him over the edge. Stefan felt the pleasantly familiar burning in his balls and knew he was close to orgasm. He wanted to force himself to resist it but knew that his body and mind were working against him, so he resigned himself to the inevitable. It was strange, but what they had done had worked. He didn't want these moments with Damon to end, because he knew that this would be the first and last time that this would happen. They'd never be able to be this close without any barriers between them again; never take such comfort and pleasure in each other's company again. Elena and his child were the furthest things away from his thoughts. They were insignificant in this niche He and Damon had dug for themselves together. Even thinking of them didn't have any impact, as if what would have made him feel guilty had been cut away by what he and his brother were sharing. And that's all who mattered in the universe right now. Damon. Himself. He looked into his brother's eyes and found mutual understanding there. And then he gave one last thrust and came inside him, fingers digging into Damon's sides, back arching as his muscles pulled reflexively tight. His face was buried against where his brother's throat met his shoulder and, unable to resist his instincts, his canines lengthened and he bit down hard enough to draw blood. He heard Damon's cry of either pain or pleasure, or a hybrid of both, ring in his ears only seconds before he felt fangs plunge into his own flesh. In his post-orgasmic state it was a heady sensation, a pinprick and then a rush of silken, flowing nectar that seemed to leave a warm trail as it was sapped from his body. The blood in his own mouth was delicious, infused with power and laden with the taste that he knew was distinctly his brother's. He was in awe of how succulent it was, and he sucked and licked at the wound he had made until he felt Damon's fingers gently pry him away. They kissed once more, the taste of their blood slipping from each of their mouths into one another's, washing over their teeth, their tongues. Mingling with their saliva. Still locked to his brother like that, Damon brought himself to orgasm. His fangs clamped down on Stefan's tongue, fresh blood adding to that which already coated their mouths as he spurted warm, silky cum against his own chest and stomach. For several minutes they lay against each other, their ravenous kisses winding down to soft brushes of their lips and tongues. Their bodies heaved in unison with their labored breathing, both of their minds keying down as they bathed in the afterglow of their orgasms. Stefan pulled out of his brother, then, and rolled on to his side. He watched as the older vampire sighed and dipped his fingers in his own semen. He brought it to his lips, sucking it off as if it was a delicacy, and then did it again, offering the fingers up to Stefan this time. Stefan hesitated at first. But eventually he gave in to his curiosity and licked them clean. It didn't taste much different from the few times he'd tried his own. Sweet with a bitter edge. He decided he liked it. So much, in fact, that he leaned over and licked the rest off of his brother. Damon grinned at him. A bare teeth, sharp-fanged grin that was completely sincere. Stefan grinned back and, resting his head against Damon's chest, closed his eyes. Act VI 'The Brothers Part Company' The sun had not yet risen by the time Stefan awoke, the sky still in the state of gray-washed blandness that preempted daylight. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, his brother's body shifting beneath him. He tried to sit up right but there was a hand wound around his chest that was hold him down, the grip near impossible to break. "You don't have to leave so soon," came Damon's groggy voice. Stefan looked up and saw his brother's eyes weren't even open yet. "You could stay." Stefan glanced at the clock on the dresser and shook his head, even though he knew his brother couldn't see it. "I can't. Elena's probably worried about me. I told her I wouldn't be long." Damon did open his eyes then, and they were a dull, opaque black. The eyes of a predator. The black make-up that had outlined them the night before was still present, albeit smudged and faded now. "Leave her." "What?" "You heard me." Stefan considered for a moment, casting his eyes downward, then shook his head. "And what about Pagolo?" "Pagolo? We'll raise him, you and I." The younger vampire sighed and pulled away and this time Damon let him. They stared at each other, neither of them saying a word for several minutes. At last Stefan rose from the bed and retrieved his clothes and as he pulled them on he spoke. "I can't choose you over her, Damon." His back was to his brother but he could still feel those black eyes boring into him, imagine the sneer he would see marring that beautiful face if he turned around. "No matter what happened last night, you're still my brother. I'll never see you as anything but that. We may have bridged a gap, but that's all we did. It was reconciliation. We both needed it, and it accomplished what it was supposed to." "You're nothing but a coward." The words were like daggers aimed at Stefan's heart. "You'll always be in denial of everything that you are. I don't know why I bother with you at all." The younger vampire tried not to flinch. "You said it yourself last night. Perhaps I'm afraid of this as much as you are, but I'm not about to admit it." Damon made a disgusted noise in his throat. "Just go." Stefan stood and went to the door, finally looking back when his hand was on the knob. His brother was sitting up with his elbows resting against his knees, his head leaning against his hand. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Stefan was watching him, a look that would have sent a human fleeing in terror. "I'll visit. With the baby. And Elena." The older vampire just shook his head. "Don't bother." And Stefan, knowing when Damon had been pushed too far, slipped out the door without a backwards glance. === Stefan stood in the great dining hall, looking around. It was a vast room that, without the guests from the previous night crammed into it, seemed devoid of life. A wood floor, a plain dining table, a fireplace, a couple of windows. It was all of usual design, boring and uninviting in its structure. But the younger vampire found what he had come there for. Two masks made of expensive leather lay in front of the fireplace like a pair of broken toys. Indeed, one of them was broken. Stefan bent and touched the fissure where Damon's sword had cut through the Horus mask, then the beak, which had remained intact. He tucked the mask under his arm and made to rise but the other mask, the dragon one, beckoned him with its slitted eyeholes and hooked snout. He touched it, too, appreciating its intricate beauty, and eventually found himself picking it up and trying it on. It was a perfect fit, as if it had been made for him and not his brother. With the mask seated firmly on his face, he left Damon and the events of the previous night behind, and drove away. =============== .end