The Dare of Truth [slash]

Chapter 13

Fyn's first thought was that it could be a burglar, but then he remembered that several people had a key to his apartment. The identity of the late guest was revealed seconds later anyway as a familiar, tall figure appeared.

Eondar stared at him in surprise. "Sorry, I thought you were out..." As he was about to close the door again, Fyn stopped him.

"No, it's okay. Err, come in."

The photographer hesitated, then he entered the apartment. He looked a bit uncomfortable. "I just wanted to return your keys," he said and put them on the counter next to the door. "And I hoped to find my favorite shirt..."

Now Fyn realized that he was wearing that exact piece of clothing, and nothing else, and he blushed. "I guess I've found it," he mumbled. "Wait a sec, I'll..."

"Keep it on." Eondar's face lit up as he saw Fyn's reaction, and a little smile graced his lips. Someone wearing another person's shirt was a pretty obvious sign of affection, and both knew it. "It suits you."

"Oh. Erm..." The journalist was usually not at a loss for words, but now..."Care for a mug of hot milk?" he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'd love to," the sire answered, closing the door behind him and pulling off his coat.

A few minutes later, the two were sitting on the sofa, drinking their milk. Fyn was still wearing the shirt, but as he pulled up his legs to sit more comfortably, he noticed Eondar's gaze on his right leg. There was a large, jagged scar on the otherwise smooth, creamy skin were the bones had broken through. It somehow looked like a crack in a fine porcelain cup.

"I know, it's ugly," Fyn mumbled, trying to pull the hem of the shirt over it, but Eondar stopped him. His warm, large hands carefully settled on the leg, slowly starting to massage the tense muscles. The lifebearer sighed in bliss as the pain slowly eased. He closed his eyes, not caring anymore about decorum or their fight. He just didn't want Eondar to stop – ever.

Slowly, very slowly, the massage turned into a caress. The pain was gone, and now the sire's fingers left a strange tingle on the scarred, oversensitive skin. Fyn caught himself giving a little gasp and opened his eyes.

Eondar's beautiful, steely eyes were lit with a warm fire as they met Fyn's gaze. There was so much hope in them, so much longing... Was it real? Was it truly Fyn Eondar wanted and no one else? Or had the sight of Fyn in that shirt just reminded the sire of Sharelan's picture again?

"If there's any chance left for you and me, I'd happily take it," the sire confessed in that low, gentle voice of his. "I know that I'm asking for a lot, but..."

Fyn cut him off by putting a finger on Eondar's mouth. "It's okay." Then he leaned forward to gently kiss the sire. It was a brief touch, impossibly warm and sweet with just a tinge of bitterness. But the lifebearer ignored it. He wanted Eondar, and he wouldn't let him get away, even if the sire just saw Sharelan in him. Maybe it was time to face the realities of life and just take what was offered to him. Maybe it was time to truly grow up and accept the fact that this was all he could ever have.