epilogue (eden, now) rated nc-17
Nov. 23rd, 2002 11:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenzieSam paces around the house restlessly, not sure what to do with himself and not sure how much time he has to do it anyway. Today (tonight, technically) is his and Aurelian's third anniversary. Three years from the night Aurelian showed up at Sam's tiny apartment at three in the morning, soaking wet, trying to woo him with a copy of The Voice of Venus instead of the more traditional candy and flowers. Three years from the night they sat on the floor and listened to William Mackenzie, ten years dead, blowing his horn in his one shot at immortality. Three years since Aurelian fell hard for a mortal boy, and three years since Sam learned vampires not only exist, but love and live like everyone else.
Three years together. Three years of laughing and crying and bitching and moaning and gasping and moaning and making love on the music room floor. (Not to mention in the shower, on the kitchen counter, on the dining room table, in the guest rooms, on the couch, in the attic, in the laundry room, and on the hood of the Jaguar.) Three years of Sam keeping his orange juice in the fridge next to Aurelian's blood. Three years of Rachmaninoff concertos and Coltrane solos and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones playing on the stereo loud enough to make the speakers bounce. Three years of weirdness, and three years of rightness, and three years of finding out what turns you on, and what turns your lover on. Three years of being in love with someone who is just as in love with you. (Sam has learned that there is a different between loving someone and being in love with them.) Three years of arguing over the little things, and three years of living in the present, and three years of only occasionally thinking about the future.
Three years is longer than Sam has ever been with anyone. Sometimes he wonders what will happen in the next three years. He knows Aurelian wants to turn him, can't bear the idea of outliving him, and he can understand. Sam doesn't want to be old and creaky while his lover is still young and beautiful. He doesn't want to die and leave Aurelian alone.
But he also doesn't want to think about that now. He'd rather bounce around the house in his shiny silver vinyl pants, the ones his friend Lizzie gave him for being in her fashion show, and think of something special to do for his boyfriend. Sam has a good grasp of the symbolism of things, but Aurelian has always been more sentimental. Sam's idea of an anniversary well-spent involves eating out, maybe going to William's to hear Anya sing, or to the House of Usher to shake his butt and make out in the booths in back, or possibly to a movie, where they can sit in the dark and hold hands (or, if it's subtitled and boring, Sam can go down on Aurelian and make him bite his tongue to keep from crying out and disturbing the other people in the theater). And of course he expects mad monkey love, hours and hours of it if they're lucky.
But right now he's still waiting for Aurelian to get home so they can go on with their evening. He has his dad's record on the turntable. He's dressed - the vinyl pants and a black t-shirt - but barefoot. He was going to wear the mesh shirt Lizzie made to go with the pants, but it scraped uncomfortably against his new tattoo, his present to his beautiful, incredible, smart, sexy boyfriend - on the back of his left shoulder, a six-inch-high saxophone barely suggested by a few sweeping lines of Japanese brushwork, and curving up out of the bell like smoke, like the notes of a song, Cyrillic letters tangled around each other. Untangled they spell two names: Ruslan, which was Aurelian's name when he was mortal, and Samoyla, a Russian form of Samuel.
He got it this morning, closer to noon because Skinner (the tattoo artist) doesn't do mornings. Lizzie went with him to hold his hand, and Sam squirmed and tried not to whine about how much it hurt and stuck his tongue out at Lizzie when she called him a wuss.
And now when he shifts his shoulders he can feel it throbbing very gently under his t-shirt, can feel the cotton sliding against his abused skin, against this mark of his devotion.
It still hurts a little, and he knows in a day or two it will start to itch. He wonders what will happen if Aurelian licks it. Vampire spit, as Sam has learned, will close a wound. He wonders if it will make a tattoo heal faster. He'll find out.
Right now he has time to kill but no idea how much. Aurelian could be home in ten minutes or an hour, and Sam has no idea where he is, and Aurelian has never gotten a cell phone. Sam loves him dearly, loves him more than anyone alive except his mom, but sometimes he wishes Aurelian were a little more caught up to the 21st century.
Thirty minutes later Sam is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the den happily shooting zombies on his PS2, having flipped his dad's record and drunk the rest of the orange juice and scarfed down a dozen Oreos and decided the best way to kill time is to kill pixelated zombies. He loves his PS2. He is so engrossed in his game that he doesn't hear Aurelian come home, doesn't hear him slam the front door and call his name, doesn't even hear him walk through the music room and into the den, doesn't hear him until he drops something on the floor and says "Hi honey, I'm home."
"Hey," Sam says, his eyes (and his concentration) still on his game. "I was waiting - crap! Crap! Hold - "
"Enjoying yourself?"
"No! I'm getting killed! Fucking zombies...." He lets himself die, turns off the PS2, leans forward to turn off the TV, and grins up at his boyfriend. "I had all this time to kill, I didn't know when you were coming home."
"I'm home now."
"I see. What's in the box?" Aurelian has dragged an immense flat box into the den with him, a box as wide as Sam's outstretched arms and probably three feet high. (He isn't good with heights.)
"Come here and I'll show you." Sam heaves himself to his feet, grinning at Aurelian's expression when the vampire gets the full effect of silver pants and black shirt and bare feet. "Hold it while I get it open."
Sam holds the box and Aurelian opens it and pulls out a pair of wings, wide black-feathered angel wings attached to a strappy leather harness with little silver buckles. Lizzie's wings, the wings Sam wore on stage for her, for her fashion show. She has photos of him on the wall of her cube in the House of Pain, and people still point and ask about the beautiful boy in the shiny silver pants and the big black wings.
After the fashion show he wore the wings home, and Aurelian blindfolded him and chained him to the ceiling up in the attic, with chains Sam didn't even know were there, and they... they.... Sam can feel himself blush now, can feel himself getting hard inside his vinyl pants. Aurelian is smiling.
"Happy anniversary," he says. "My angel, my heart."
"Oh, Jesus," is all Sam can say. He wants to shuck off his t-shirt and put the wings on, and he wants to throw Aurelian down and kiss him and lick him and bite him and fuck him into the floor, and he wants Aurelian to push him against the wall and make him scream.
"She made them for me. For you. Will you wear them?"
"Now?" It comes out as a squeak. "I don't... I don't think I can wait for you. To put them on."
"Wear them for me, per favore." Aurelian's voice has dropped an octave, fallen into that range where it goes when he is aroused and excited and needs Sam now.
"Ok...." Sam pulls off his t-shirt, his eyes on his boyfriend, then steps right up to him, rubs against him, kisses him quickly, and turns around, ready to be harnessed.
"Sam."
"Yeah?" Cool fingers on his shoulder, soothing the tattooed burn on his skin. "Oh, that. That's my present for you. Like it?" Aurelian leans in and presses his lips to it, kissing the black brushy lines of the sax and the trailing words and the warm unmarked skin of Sam's shoulder.
"Very much so. Oh, caro mio...." Aurelian wraps his arms around Sam's waist, holding tightly as he kisses Sam's neck and pushes his hips against Sam's butt and drops a hand to stroke Sam's cock through his pants. "Te amo sempre, sole mio. My Samuel, my soul, my only love."
Any other time Sam might blush from the naked desire in his lover's voice, but now, with a hand at his groin and an answering hardness against his ass, with lips on his neck and that voice in his ear, all he does is sigh and moan softly as expert fingers knead his hard-on through the silver vinyl and strong hips grind against him.
"The wings can wait," he hisses. "Don't stop."
"No, never." Aurelian's other hand drops to unbutton Sam's pants and push them open, and a hand snakes inside to stroke his hot, hungry prick. Sam moans and presses back, raising an arm to drape backwards around Aurelian's neck, turning his head and pulling Aurelian's face down to kiss him.
They sway together for what feels like forever, Aurelian's arm around Sam's waist, a hand down his pants, and Sam's arm around Aurelian's neck, holding him there for long, languid, hungry kisses. Hips rock together, Aurelian's hand moving faster, Sam's breath coming in short gasps, both of them moaning into each other's mouths, tongues and teeth nibbling and sucking and devouring, bodies melting together, one heartbeat keeping them both alive.
Aurelian shoves Sam's silver pants down his hips and Sam turns in his embrace to fumble with the vampire's belt and black wool pants, mouths never letting go as hands struggle with fabric, pushing clothes out of the way and wrapping around hard, straining, leaking flesh. Aurelian is murmuring now, those words Sam has never really learned, his voice enough to make the boy crazed, enough to make him groan and sob as Aurelian grabs the silver pants in his fists and sinks to his knees, pulling the vinyl down and off, freeing Sam's legs, stripping him naked, picking him up and stumbling back against the wall by the archway leading to the music room.
Sam has his legs wrapped around Aurelian's waist and his arms around Aurelian's neck, Aurelian's strong hands under his ass holding him up, and then his back is to the wall and Aurelian's mouth is fastened on his jaw, sucking and tasting. Sam runs his hands up into Aurelian's long hair, digs his fingers into the vampire's skull as Aurelian's lips and tongue move along his jaw and down his neck to the place where it joins to his shoulder, where he stops and sucks in earnest.
"Oh... god..." Sam moans. "Fuck... Aurelian... I can't... can't.... Touch me, please... you have... to... touch me...."
"Yes," Aurelian murmurs into his shoulder, pulling blood through the skin, making his own mark. "Hold on." Sam's thighs squeeze around Aurelian's waist as Aurelian tries to arrange him better, as one hand leaves Sam's ass to wriggle between them and grip Sam's cock. Now Sam moans in earnest, loudly, greedily, wanting Aurelian so badly he can't put words to it. His back arches against the wall and is hips strain against his boyfriend, his strong, gorgeous boyfriend, his lover, his vampire, his - oh, god, his tormentor, as fingers slide in his ass and get him ready.
"Oh fuck," he gasps, "oh fuck oh fuck oh Jesus Christ Aurelian don't stop harder please god need you inside me now want you to fuck me please please - "
Aurelian's mouth on his stops his babble and Aurelian's hand on his cock stops his climax, and Sam wants to relax but he can't. He can feel the wall cool against his back and Aurelian's bare waist cool against his thighs and his feet hooked together over Aurelian's ass; they grind together, moaning and breathless and needy and so full of want it's almost unbearable.
"Need lube," Sam gasps. In answer Aurelian puts his fingers against Sam's lips, smiling and showing fangs when Sam opens his mouth and sucks them in. You don't live and sleep with someone for three years without learning how to take a hint. He watches Aurelian's face as he pulls suggestively on the fingers, nibbling the tips and sweeping around them with his tongue.
"Sam... that is... enough...."
Sam lets go, and Aurelian uses his wet fingers to ready himself. He tilts Sam's hips, as much as he can, and enters him with a soft groan. Sam tries to ride the long, heavy cock, but he is pressed too closely against the wall to be able to use it to push off of, and all he can do is hang on and let Aurelian thrust in and out, let the vampire pound him against the wall until he sinks his teeth into Sam's shoulder and Sam screams.
His head thunks back against the wall and his eyes roll up into his head as Aurelian drinks from his shoulder, and his legs tighten around Aurelian's waist and he shudders and cries out in an explosive climax. Aurelian doesn't let go but his thrusts lose their rhythm, hips pumping frantically as he comes as well.
Sam's eyes roll back down and it takes him fully five minutes to catch his breath. Aurelian slowly pulls out his fangs, licks the punctures, and closes them. He untangles Sam's legs and sets him down on the floor, but Sam is a little dizzy and afraid to let go. His arms loop around Aurelian's neck and he leans against the vampire as he tilts his head for another kiss.
"Mmm," Aurelian murmurs. "You taste like cookies and sugar."
"Orange juice and Oreos. Dinner of champions." He grins. Aurelian strokes his sweaty face, brushes hair out of his eyes. "I got an idea."
"Yes?"
"I'll put the wings on - you'll put them on me - and then I'll... uh... well, push you down on your back and ride you. How often do you get the chance to fuck an angel, right?"
"Every single night of my unlife, Samuel."
"...Oh." What else can he say to that? "I meant with the wings."
"So do I. I will put them on you and we will play some more."
"We're never gonna leave the house, are we."
"No." Aurelian grins, predatory and affectionate and seductive all at once, and Sam kisses him.
"Three years," he muses, when they pull apart. "You believe that?"
"Yes I do. All the things I have ever said to you, all the things I have ever done - only one thing has ever mattered, and that is that I love you with all my undead soul."
"I know. I love you too."
And he does. In spite of the weirdness and the blood (he has learned he likes the biting) and the strange looks and the fact that is boyfriend will never be able to cheer him on in the summer basketball league, Sam loves him.
He has for three years, and he expects he will for three years more, and three years after that, and on into forever.
His one and only, his only one.
END
final word count: 56,3700
Three years together. Three years of laughing and crying and bitching and moaning and gasping and moaning and making love on the music room floor. (Not to mention in the shower, on the kitchen counter, on the dining room table, in the guest rooms, on the couch, in the attic, in the laundry room, and on the hood of the Jaguar.) Three years of Sam keeping his orange juice in the fridge next to Aurelian's blood. Three years of Rachmaninoff concertos and Coltrane solos and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones playing on the stereo loud enough to make the speakers bounce. Three years of weirdness, and three years of rightness, and three years of finding out what turns you on, and what turns your lover on. Three years of being in love with someone who is just as in love with you. (Sam has learned that there is a different between loving someone and being in love with them.) Three years of arguing over the little things, and three years of living in the present, and three years of only occasionally thinking about the future.
Three years is longer than Sam has ever been with anyone. Sometimes he wonders what will happen in the next three years. He knows Aurelian wants to turn him, can't bear the idea of outliving him, and he can understand. Sam doesn't want to be old and creaky while his lover is still young and beautiful. He doesn't want to die and leave Aurelian alone.
But he also doesn't want to think about that now. He'd rather bounce around the house in his shiny silver vinyl pants, the ones his friend Lizzie gave him for being in her fashion show, and think of something special to do for his boyfriend. Sam has a good grasp of the symbolism of things, but Aurelian has always been more sentimental. Sam's idea of an anniversary well-spent involves eating out, maybe going to William's to hear Anya sing, or to the House of Usher to shake his butt and make out in the booths in back, or possibly to a movie, where they can sit in the dark and hold hands (or, if it's subtitled and boring, Sam can go down on Aurelian and make him bite his tongue to keep from crying out and disturbing the other people in the theater). And of course he expects mad monkey love, hours and hours of it if they're lucky.
But right now he's still waiting for Aurelian to get home so they can go on with their evening. He has his dad's record on the turntable. He's dressed - the vinyl pants and a black t-shirt - but barefoot. He was going to wear the mesh shirt Lizzie made to go with the pants, but it scraped uncomfortably against his new tattoo, his present to his beautiful, incredible, smart, sexy boyfriend - on the back of his left shoulder, a six-inch-high saxophone barely suggested by a few sweeping lines of Japanese brushwork, and curving up out of the bell like smoke, like the notes of a song, Cyrillic letters tangled around each other. Untangled they spell two names: Ruslan, which was Aurelian's name when he was mortal, and Samoyla, a Russian form of Samuel.
He got it this morning, closer to noon because Skinner (the tattoo artist) doesn't do mornings. Lizzie went with him to hold his hand, and Sam squirmed and tried not to whine about how much it hurt and stuck his tongue out at Lizzie when she called him a wuss.
And now when he shifts his shoulders he can feel it throbbing very gently under his t-shirt, can feel the cotton sliding against his abused skin, against this mark of his devotion.
It still hurts a little, and he knows in a day or two it will start to itch. He wonders what will happen if Aurelian licks it. Vampire spit, as Sam has learned, will close a wound. He wonders if it will make a tattoo heal faster. He'll find out.
Right now he has time to kill but no idea how much. Aurelian could be home in ten minutes or an hour, and Sam has no idea where he is, and Aurelian has never gotten a cell phone. Sam loves him dearly, loves him more than anyone alive except his mom, but sometimes he wishes Aurelian were a little more caught up to the 21st century.
Thirty minutes later Sam is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the den happily shooting zombies on his PS2, having flipped his dad's record and drunk the rest of the orange juice and scarfed down a dozen Oreos and decided the best way to kill time is to kill pixelated zombies. He loves his PS2. He is so engrossed in his game that he doesn't hear Aurelian come home, doesn't hear him slam the front door and call his name, doesn't even hear him walk through the music room and into the den, doesn't hear him until he drops something on the floor and says "Hi honey, I'm home."
"Hey," Sam says, his eyes (and his concentration) still on his game. "I was waiting - crap! Crap! Hold - "
"Enjoying yourself?"
"No! I'm getting killed! Fucking zombies...." He lets himself die, turns off the PS2, leans forward to turn off the TV, and grins up at his boyfriend. "I had all this time to kill, I didn't know when you were coming home."
"I'm home now."
"I see. What's in the box?" Aurelian has dragged an immense flat box into the den with him, a box as wide as Sam's outstretched arms and probably three feet high. (He isn't good with heights.)
"Come here and I'll show you." Sam heaves himself to his feet, grinning at Aurelian's expression when the vampire gets the full effect of silver pants and black shirt and bare feet. "Hold it while I get it open."
Sam holds the box and Aurelian opens it and pulls out a pair of wings, wide black-feathered angel wings attached to a strappy leather harness with little silver buckles. Lizzie's wings, the wings Sam wore on stage for her, for her fashion show. She has photos of him on the wall of her cube in the House of Pain, and people still point and ask about the beautiful boy in the shiny silver pants and the big black wings.
After the fashion show he wore the wings home, and Aurelian blindfolded him and chained him to the ceiling up in the attic, with chains Sam didn't even know were there, and they... they.... Sam can feel himself blush now, can feel himself getting hard inside his vinyl pants. Aurelian is smiling.
"Happy anniversary," he says. "My angel, my heart."
"Oh, Jesus," is all Sam can say. He wants to shuck off his t-shirt and put the wings on, and he wants to throw Aurelian down and kiss him and lick him and bite him and fuck him into the floor, and he wants Aurelian to push him against the wall and make him scream.
"She made them for me. For you. Will you wear them?"
"Now?" It comes out as a squeak. "I don't... I don't think I can wait for you. To put them on."
"Wear them for me, per favore." Aurelian's voice has dropped an octave, fallen into that range where it goes when he is aroused and excited and needs Sam now.
"Ok...." Sam pulls off his t-shirt, his eyes on his boyfriend, then steps right up to him, rubs against him, kisses him quickly, and turns around, ready to be harnessed.
"Sam."
"Yeah?" Cool fingers on his shoulder, soothing the tattooed burn on his skin. "Oh, that. That's my present for you. Like it?" Aurelian leans in and presses his lips to it, kissing the black brushy lines of the sax and the trailing words and the warm unmarked skin of Sam's shoulder.
"Very much so. Oh, caro mio...." Aurelian wraps his arms around Sam's waist, holding tightly as he kisses Sam's neck and pushes his hips against Sam's butt and drops a hand to stroke Sam's cock through his pants. "Te amo sempre, sole mio. My Samuel, my soul, my only love."
Any other time Sam might blush from the naked desire in his lover's voice, but now, with a hand at his groin and an answering hardness against his ass, with lips on his neck and that voice in his ear, all he does is sigh and moan softly as expert fingers knead his hard-on through the silver vinyl and strong hips grind against him.
"The wings can wait," he hisses. "Don't stop."
"No, never." Aurelian's other hand drops to unbutton Sam's pants and push them open, and a hand snakes inside to stroke his hot, hungry prick. Sam moans and presses back, raising an arm to drape backwards around Aurelian's neck, turning his head and pulling Aurelian's face down to kiss him.
They sway together for what feels like forever, Aurelian's arm around Sam's waist, a hand down his pants, and Sam's arm around Aurelian's neck, holding him there for long, languid, hungry kisses. Hips rock together, Aurelian's hand moving faster, Sam's breath coming in short gasps, both of them moaning into each other's mouths, tongues and teeth nibbling and sucking and devouring, bodies melting together, one heartbeat keeping them both alive.
Aurelian shoves Sam's silver pants down his hips and Sam turns in his embrace to fumble with the vampire's belt and black wool pants, mouths never letting go as hands struggle with fabric, pushing clothes out of the way and wrapping around hard, straining, leaking flesh. Aurelian is murmuring now, those words Sam has never really learned, his voice enough to make the boy crazed, enough to make him groan and sob as Aurelian grabs the silver pants in his fists and sinks to his knees, pulling the vinyl down and off, freeing Sam's legs, stripping him naked, picking him up and stumbling back against the wall by the archway leading to the music room.
Sam has his legs wrapped around Aurelian's waist and his arms around Aurelian's neck, Aurelian's strong hands under his ass holding him up, and then his back is to the wall and Aurelian's mouth is fastened on his jaw, sucking and tasting. Sam runs his hands up into Aurelian's long hair, digs his fingers into the vampire's skull as Aurelian's lips and tongue move along his jaw and down his neck to the place where it joins to his shoulder, where he stops and sucks in earnest.
"Oh... god..." Sam moans. "Fuck... Aurelian... I can't... can't.... Touch me, please... you have... to... touch me...."
"Yes," Aurelian murmurs into his shoulder, pulling blood through the skin, making his own mark. "Hold on." Sam's thighs squeeze around Aurelian's waist as Aurelian tries to arrange him better, as one hand leaves Sam's ass to wriggle between them and grip Sam's cock. Now Sam moans in earnest, loudly, greedily, wanting Aurelian so badly he can't put words to it. His back arches against the wall and is hips strain against his boyfriend, his strong, gorgeous boyfriend, his lover, his vampire, his - oh, god, his tormentor, as fingers slide in his ass and get him ready.
"Oh fuck," he gasps, "oh fuck oh fuck oh Jesus Christ Aurelian don't stop harder please god need you inside me now want you to fuck me please please - "
Aurelian's mouth on his stops his babble and Aurelian's hand on his cock stops his climax, and Sam wants to relax but he can't. He can feel the wall cool against his back and Aurelian's bare waist cool against his thighs and his feet hooked together over Aurelian's ass; they grind together, moaning and breathless and needy and so full of want it's almost unbearable.
"Need lube," Sam gasps. In answer Aurelian puts his fingers against Sam's lips, smiling and showing fangs when Sam opens his mouth and sucks them in. You don't live and sleep with someone for three years without learning how to take a hint. He watches Aurelian's face as he pulls suggestively on the fingers, nibbling the tips and sweeping around them with his tongue.
"Sam... that is... enough...."
Sam lets go, and Aurelian uses his wet fingers to ready himself. He tilts Sam's hips, as much as he can, and enters him with a soft groan. Sam tries to ride the long, heavy cock, but he is pressed too closely against the wall to be able to use it to push off of, and all he can do is hang on and let Aurelian thrust in and out, let the vampire pound him against the wall until he sinks his teeth into Sam's shoulder and Sam screams.
His head thunks back against the wall and his eyes roll up into his head as Aurelian drinks from his shoulder, and his legs tighten around Aurelian's waist and he shudders and cries out in an explosive climax. Aurelian doesn't let go but his thrusts lose their rhythm, hips pumping frantically as he comes as well.
Sam's eyes roll back down and it takes him fully five minutes to catch his breath. Aurelian slowly pulls out his fangs, licks the punctures, and closes them. He untangles Sam's legs and sets him down on the floor, but Sam is a little dizzy and afraid to let go. His arms loop around Aurelian's neck and he leans against the vampire as he tilts his head for another kiss.
"Mmm," Aurelian murmurs. "You taste like cookies and sugar."
"Orange juice and Oreos. Dinner of champions." He grins. Aurelian strokes his sweaty face, brushes hair out of his eyes. "I got an idea."
"Yes?"
"I'll put the wings on - you'll put them on me - and then I'll... uh... well, push you down on your back and ride you. How often do you get the chance to fuck an angel, right?"
"Every single night of my unlife, Samuel."
"...Oh." What else can he say to that? "I meant with the wings."
"So do I. I will put them on you and we will play some more."
"We're never gonna leave the house, are we."
"No." Aurelian grins, predatory and affectionate and seductive all at once, and Sam kisses him.
"Three years," he muses, when they pull apart. "You believe that?"
"Yes I do. All the things I have ever said to you, all the things I have ever done - only one thing has ever mattered, and that is that I love you with all my undead soul."
"I know. I love you too."
And he does. In spite of the weirdness and the blood (he has learned he likes the biting) and the strange looks and the fact that is boyfriend will never be able to cheer him on in the summer basketball league, Sam loves him.
He has for three years, and he expects he will for three years more, and three years after that, and on into forever.
His one and only, his only one.
END
final word count: 56,3700
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-11-23 09:00 pm (UTC)Congratulations, honey.
They are beautiful and lovely, and you told their story so very very well.
Be proud.
(Now I'm going to go cry at how lovely they are and how happy they are and how sweet you are and oh dear stop me now....)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-23 09:09 pm (UTC)I loved it. You gave them a great story, hon, They should be proud.
Congratulations.
no subject
Date: 2002-11-24 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-24 07:28 pm (UTC)Love those boys, and love this story. you did a great job.
Congrats!
no subject
Date: 2002-11-26 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-18 02:31 pm (UTC)Seriously, this is great stuff. Emotional turmoil, jazz, lots of mad monkey vampire sex...what's not to love, I ask you? Great to have the backstory on these wonderfully complex characters.
And all in 23 days!
My hat is way off to you.
-Stanley, better late than never