The Dare of Truth [slash]

Chapter 9

Bright sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, and Fyn cursed inwardly. Why hadn't he closed the curtains last night? With a soft grumble, he tried to pull the blanket over his head to escape the nasty light. His head felt like a test area for ion bombs. And he had a nasty ache in his lower back as well. Probably from that stupid fall yesterday. Forests, that had been the longest and strangest day of his life. And ending it with a drinking party hadn't been the brightest of ideas, either. Thankfully, someone had taken him home.

"Fyn?"

The lifebearer started as a familiar low voice sounded in his ear. He turned around to face Eondar who lay right next to him in bed. The sire smiled gently and a bit shyly. "Good morning."

"Uhhh... morning. Didn't you find your own bed yesterday?" Fyn asked.

"That's one way of putting it." The photographer frowned. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what? Oh damn. I should have told you. I'm the worst kind of drunk: the kind that seems to be totally sober until he passes out cold. That's why I never drink alone on the rare occasions I want to get wasted," Fyn groaned and rubbed his forehead. "But last night must have been really bad. I totally blacked out. I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

Fyn hadn't it thought possible for someone as tanned as Eondar to get this pale. "Well, you..."

The journalist sat up in bed and grimaced at the painful movement. Only now he realized that he wasn't wearing any clothes - and neither was Eondar. A terrible suspicion invaded his still fogged mind. "What... what did I do? Tell me!" he asked urgently.

"You... well, I brought you home, and you really seemed completely lucid. Then you... kissed me and asked me if I wanted you, and I just... well, I went along. But then you fell asleep right before we could do anything, and since you didn't let go of me, I stayed here..." The sire slowly backed away from Fyn, hastily grabbing his pants that lay within reach.

Fyn just stared at him for a moment as the pieces fell into place. Then he exploded. "You dumbass! How could you give in so easily? Were you that desperate that you'd take the next guy that throws himself at you in a drunken stupor, even if it's your colleague and room-mate?"

If it was possible, Eondar blanched even more. "Fyn..."

"Get out!" the lifebearer yelled.

Without another word, the sire complied. He quickly grabbed his clothes and exited the bedroom.

Once he was alone, Fyn tried to get out of bed. He gritted his teeth and managed to get to the bathroom to draw himself a hot bath. While he waited for the tub to be filled, he checked his body for any signs of lovemaking, but there were none. The pain in his butt stemmed from a black and blue mark - the result of his fall yesterday when he had bumped into Othric. Fyn discovered it when he looked at himself in the mirror. Apparently, Fyn really had fallen asleep last night before anything serious could happen.

But that wasn't the problem, although Fyn was relieved. He had always wanted his first time to be special, and losing his virginity during a drunken blackout would only count as especially horrible. The problem was Eondar. What the hell had the man been thinking? Apparently, the sire wasn't really picky when it came to his flings, and Fyn had been a convenient opportunity. The anger over that fact was even bigger than his disappointment in the man. And here he had hoped that they had become friends somehow.