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JTAH 02
Title: Journey to Another Hell IV
Author: Feygan
Fandom: BtVS/Anita Blake
"Perhaps it would be better for you not to call them such things,"
Jean-Claude said.
Xander stuck his tongue out at him. "You can't change me. 'I yam what
I yam,' as Popeye would say. And those people out there... they're
definitely sheep that let themselves be led to the slaughter. Why else
would they volunteer to be here?"
"Because we are civilized monsters." Jean-Claude reached out to take
Xander's hand, turning it this way and that beneath his examining gaze
before twining their fingers together.
Jean-Claude had a thing for the romance. He dreamed of soft sheets and
romantic strolls down moonlit beaches. It was the kind of sentimental
crap that Xander's demon scoffed at, all growly and disgusted, but
Xander was willing to put up with all that for Jean-Claude.
"It must be love," Xander laughed, giving Jean-Claude's hand a squeeze.
"What?" Jean-Claude looked at him in surprise.
"Nothing," Xander grinned at him, "just thinking out loud."
He had to admit that his feelings for Jean-Claude had only grown
during his time on this world. He was soulless, but he could still
love. It was just a darker, more terrible kind of love than most
people wanted to be the focus of.
Jean-Claude took him to the Lounge. It was a large room where all the
werethings got to hang out and relax as they waited to be needed.
Jean-Claude rarely visited the Lounge, but he knew that Xander liked
to pick his own meal. It was that thoughtfulness that Xander really
enjoyed.
Xander smiled and gave Jean-Claude's hand a squeeze. It seemed that
with every night that passed, Jean-Claude became more and more the
vampire king Xander knew he could be.
It was only a matter of time now.
* * *
The Lounge was their place to relax and retreat from the world while
still being available at all times. There was the perpetual card game
going on in one corner, and the TV was blaring some children's show
loudly, and though they weren't allowed to get drunk, there were
several open beers.
Nathaniel had been invited to play poker, but he thought that might
have been because they all knew how terrible he was at the game.
Instead he was curled up in an armchair flipping through a slightly
wrinkled magazine. He thought it might have belonged to Jason first,
though his scent had largely faded from the pages.
In another time and place, he probably would have been at Anita's
place waiting for her to give him a little face time, but he'd shaken
his head at Micah and made his escape. It was probably cowardly of him
to leave his Nimir-raj to make his excuses, but he was afraid of
Anita's reaction.
She wasn't good with rejection and from all that he knew of her, her
first reaction to most every situation was violence.
Nathaniel didn't want to deal with any of that. Hence his spending his
free time at the Lounge and sleeping over at Vivian's. She'd been cool
with the idea of letting him stay, and he'd been careful to keep his
presence in her life small. Altogether it was the most peaceful time
he'd spent since he'd been bitten.
Life on the street had been misery, then life as a wereleopard had
been even worse. There were some days when he was surprised to find
himself still alive. But recently it seemed as though things were
getting better.
He felt as though he might be growing up, as weird as that was. A
strange fog was lifting from his mind and he felt as though he could
see clearly for the first time in a long time.
He was grateful to Anita for keeping him alive and helping him through
some of the fucked up things plaguing his life, but he felt as though
he'd outgrown her. She wasn't the strength he wanted to lean against,
and he got the sense that somewhere out there was someone that would
really and truly see *him*, warts and all.
Anita was not that person. To her, he was just some burden she'd
accepted responsibility for. She used him for sex when she was horny,
food when she was hungry, and a presence to rail against when she was
feeling lonely. But he doubted that she ever looked at him and saw
him, Nathaniel Graison, and not just another problem for her to
handle.
There was a tingle on the back of his neck and he rubbed it with his
hand, a faint frown pulling his brows together. Then his eyes were
drawn to the opening door as Jean-Claude walked in with Xander at his
side.
Nathaniel's breath caught. He hadn't seen Xander up close since *that*
night, yet here he was. Grinning with all his teeth showing and a
challenge in his eyes.
As Jean-Claude's pomme de sang, Nathaniel was the only one that didn't
go into full submission position on the floor.
Jean-Claude never visited the Lounge. When he was Hungry he sent for a
donor. So for him to be here, Nathaniel could nearly hear the others
panicking like it was the end of the world. They were wondering what
terrible wrong they had done to bring Jean-Claude himself to punish
them.
Nathaniel looked at Xander, his throat tight with desire. "Did you
come down for a bite to eat?" He could practically feel Xander's teeth
breaking his skin.
Xander smirked at him. "Is that what you want, pretty?"
Some childish part of Nathaniel wanted to tell him no, he didn't need
to be dominated and half destroyed. But that was a lie he couldn't
tell.
"Yes," he breathed, his gaze locked on Xander's face.
"All right then," Xander said, holding out his hand. "You come with me."
Nathaniel found himself across the room with no idea how he'd gotten
there. All he knew was that his hand was enclosed in Xander's and his
heart was beating fast with excitement.
He barely noticed as Jean-Claude chose three other donors. All he knew
was that Xander was touching him and he never wanted to be away from
him.
That spot on the back of his neck pulsed with his heartbeat and his
skin felt hot and tight. He wanted to rub himself against Xander, to
grind the scent of Xander so far into his skin that no one could deny
their connection.
The cruel twist to Xander's lips said he knew what Nathaniel wanted
and he planned to torment him about it.
Nathaniel ached with the want.
Author: Feygan
Fandom: BtVS/Anita Blake
"Perhaps it would be better for you not to call them such things,"
Jean-Claude said.
Xander stuck his tongue out at him. "You can't change me. 'I yam what
I yam,' as Popeye would say. And those people out there... they're
definitely sheep that let themselves be led to the slaughter. Why else
would they volunteer to be here?"
"Because we are civilized monsters." Jean-Claude reached out to take
Xander's hand, turning it this way and that beneath his examining gaze
before twining their fingers together.
Jean-Claude had a thing for the romance. He dreamed of soft sheets and
romantic strolls down moonlit beaches. It was the kind of sentimental
crap that Xander's demon scoffed at, all growly and disgusted, but
Xander was willing to put up with all that for Jean-Claude.
"It must be love," Xander laughed, giving Jean-Claude's hand a squeeze.
"What?" Jean-Claude looked at him in surprise.
"Nothing," Xander grinned at him, "just thinking out loud."
He had to admit that his feelings for Jean-Claude had only grown
during his time on this world. He was soulless, but he could still
love. It was just a darker, more terrible kind of love than most
people wanted to be the focus of.
Jean-Claude took him to the Lounge. It was a large room where all the
werethings got to hang out and relax as they waited to be needed.
Jean-Claude rarely visited the Lounge, but he knew that Xander liked
to pick his own meal. It was that thoughtfulness that Xander really
enjoyed.
Xander smiled and gave Jean-Claude's hand a squeeze. It seemed that
with every night that passed, Jean-Claude became more and more the
vampire king Xander knew he could be.
It was only a matter of time now.
* * *
The Lounge was their place to relax and retreat from the world while
still being available at all times. There was the perpetual card game
going on in one corner, and the TV was blaring some children's show
loudly, and though they weren't allowed to get drunk, there were
several open beers.
Nathaniel had been invited to play poker, but he thought that might
have been because they all knew how terrible he was at the game.
Instead he was curled up in an armchair flipping through a slightly
wrinkled magazine. He thought it might have belonged to Jason first,
though his scent had largely faded from the pages.
In another time and place, he probably would have been at Anita's
place waiting for her to give him a little face time, but he'd shaken
his head at Micah and made his escape. It was probably cowardly of him
to leave his Nimir-raj to make his excuses, but he was afraid of
Anita's reaction.
She wasn't good with rejection and from all that he knew of her, her
first reaction to most every situation was violence.
Nathaniel didn't want to deal with any of that. Hence his spending his
free time at the Lounge and sleeping over at Vivian's. She'd been cool
with the idea of letting him stay, and he'd been careful to keep his
presence in her life small. Altogether it was the most peaceful time
he'd spent since he'd been bitten.
Life on the street had been misery, then life as a wereleopard had
been even worse. There were some days when he was surprised to find
himself still alive. But recently it seemed as though things were
getting better.
He felt as though he might be growing up, as weird as that was. A
strange fog was lifting from his mind and he felt as though he could
see clearly for the first time in a long time.
He was grateful to Anita for keeping him alive and helping him through
some of the fucked up things plaguing his life, but he felt as though
he'd outgrown her. She wasn't the strength he wanted to lean against,
and he got the sense that somewhere out there was someone that would
really and truly see *him*, warts and all.
Anita was not that person. To her, he was just some burden she'd
accepted responsibility for. She used him for sex when she was horny,
food when she was hungry, and a presence to rail against when she was
feeling lonely. But he doubted that she ever looked at him and saw
him, Nathaniel Graison, and not just another problem for her to
handle.
There was a tingle on the back of his neck and he rubbed it with his
hand, a faint frown pulling his brows together. Then his eyes were
drawn to the opening door as Jean-Claude walked in with Xander at his
side.
Nathaniel's breath caught. He hadn't seen Xander up close since *that*
night, yet here he was. Grinning with all his teeth showing and a
challenge in his eyes.
As Jean-Claude's pomme de sang, Nathaniel was the only one that didn't
go into full submission position on the floor.
Jean-Claude never visited the Lounge. When he was Hungry he sent for a
donor. So for him to be here, Nathaniel could nearly hear the others
panicking like it was the end of the world. They were wondering what
terrible wrong they had done to bring Jean-Claude himself to punish
them.
Nathaniel looked at Xander, his throat tight with desire. "Did you
come down for a bite to eat?" He could practically feel Xander's teeth
breaking his skin.
Xander smirked at him. "Is that what you want, pretty?"
Some childish part of Nathaniel wanted to tell him no, he didn't need
to be dominated and half destroyed. But that was a lie he couldn't
tell.
"Yes," he breathed, his gaze locked on Xander's face.
"All right then," Xander said, holding out his hand. "You come with me."
Nathaniel found himself across the room with no idea how he'd gotten
there. All he knew was that his hand was enclosed in Xander's and his
heart was beating fast with excitement.
He barely noticed as Jean-Claude chose three other donors. All he knew
was that Xander was touching him and he never wanted to be away from
him.
That spot on the back of his neck pulsed with his heartbeat and his
skin felt hot and tight. He wanted to rub himself against Xander, to
grind the scent of Xander so far into his skin that no one could deny
their connection.
The cruel twist to Xander's lips said he knew what Nathaniel wanted
and he planned to torment him about it.
Nathaniel ached with the want.