Essence of Purity [boyxboy]

Chapter XXIII

~Monday 17th May 2010~

The house had been empty when Salem returned and he had never felt more welcomed by the isolation. It was the best possible outcome for all three of his brothers to be out that morning. He wasn't sure of the reason, however, he didn't question it. With a quick text sent to Alonzo informing him that he was home, Salem locked the front door behind him. Ashamedly, he watched at the window until Mourn's car had pulled away, feeling like some beaten dog. Salem didn't know what to do anymore. He leant back against the wall, eyes closing as a heavy sigh fell from his lips.

It didn't feel real.

Memories flooded forward, eclipsing any darkness Salem hoped might have comforted him. How could he ever deny last night had been anything other than world-changing? Salem was no blushing virgin, even outside of the abuse of his clan, but nothing could compare to the night he shared with Mourn. The line had always been drawn at sex. Salem had done other things with men over the years, however, he was always clothed. No one had ever seen his purity brand.

It irritated some men more than others. Mostly, they seemed pleased enough that they could say they bedded a fae, whether that was factually correct or not. The closest Salem had gotten to breaking his vow was with Sullivan, simply to stop his constant whining for more. Salem had never been so thankful for his own stubborn nature. He had never been so grateful for his brothers teaching him the value of his own body. His first time had been with Mourn, and Salem hated how that made his heart flutter.

A big part of him wanted to regret their time together. He should have. Salem had slept with a married man last night, and his skin crawled at the thought. Then, in the next moment, it didn't. The regret seeped away, leaving a draught that crackled through Salem's veins. He wanted more. Even as he had considered it, even as he had told Mourn that he needed time, his mind was already made up. Salem's instincts pleaded for him to return to the elf, those alluring whispers promising him that Mourn's side was his rightful place to be.

His conscience disagreed. The battle brought nausea to Salem's lips, having already had him leant over the toilet dry heaving earlier that day. Thankfully, Mourn was unaware, having remained by the reception whilst he darted off to the bathroom in the foyer with little excuse. Maybe it was obvious. Maybe it wasn't. Salem didn't care. He wanted to lie down, to curl up in the covers of his bed and pray that that day would end. Or perhaps pray for the night before to have been nothing but a dream... No, Salem couldn't quite bring himself to denounce that just yet.

Salem stepped away from the wall when he was ready, when his eyes opened and they didn't burn bright with tears. He wandered aimlessly into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck, hoping to alleviate the stress in his muscles that was sending a throbbing down his spine. He flicked the switch on the kettle, taking out a mug and a teabag from in the cupboard. Then Salem stood there. For however long it took for the water to boil, Salem just stood, staring into the mug on the counter.

You wouldn't understand, you're not in love with him. That was right, because Tehlmar was in love with Mourn, because he had married the man. The man that had spent the night with Salem, in a hotel room instead of the arms of his husband. Salem barely made it to the sink before what little he had eaten for breakfast reemerged. He could tell his brothers he was sick, some illness had to be passing through the city, something believable. Anything other than the guilt eating Salem up inside.

With the kettle boiled, Salem poured water into the mug, following it with a teaspoon of honey. He hoped the sweetness might soothe his stomach, although he had his doubts. Still, if he was found without an appetite then his brothers would only worry more. Salem took the mug to his room, not bothering to move the coaster on his bedside table as he set the cup down. Kicking off his shoes, Salem undressed. He left the suit in a pile on the floor, letting a sweatshirt fall from the pile of laundry to cover it. Good. Salem didn't want to see the outfit.