by Theda Black








He was god and man and devil, Pan and Baphomet and cambion. The people of the mountains had always given him what he asked. Until now.

Now he dreams of a man he's been promised, but can't find. The man dreams of him, not knowing why. And there's someone else, too, someone who can stand between the god and the dreamer. Someone the god would have killed...if he'd only known he existed.




Seth heard the noises first, heavy breathing, soft murmurs. His dick stirred before he could so much as open his eyes. Goddammit, not again. He rolled his head and looked at Xander's bed. It was empty. Seth's chest tightened and he sat up hurriedly, padded to the door, listening. The sounds came from outside. In the hallway. He cracked the door open quietly.

Xander's mouth was open, eyes closed, hands hanging loose at his sides. Helpless against the wall. His pants were undone. His hips rolled, thrusting forward slow and sure. Stephens made a greedy noise low in his throat, shifting on his knees in front of Xander. Xander's cock appeared and disappeared into Stephens' mouth, heavy and flushed, shiny with spit.

Something warm and heavy coiled and clenched in Seth's stomach. He hated it. He hated Xander, who'd made sure Stephens had stayed away from Seth but didn't have the self-control to keep away himself. Who'd made Seth think, to begin to trust maybe there was something between them. Something he wanted so badly it scared him to fuck and back.

Xander eyes opened, gleaming, face flushed, pleasure written all over him as Stephens sucked and licked. Seth's stomach knotted harder. He'd wanted that, too, wanted to see Xander's face and body when he touched him.

Stephens. Goddam Stephens of all people.

He watched Stephens' blond head bob, swallowing Xander's dick, his lips dragging up and down, swollen and red. He groaned and pulled off, fingers ringing Xander's cock and sliding tightly over the wet skin to the base. Xander's cock strained, veins bulging against Stephens' grip. Stephens face was rapt, holding him there, and then he jerked him suddenly, hard and fast. Xander moaned, hips jerking. He arched out from the wall, thrusting, and Stephens licked at the darkly flushed head pushing out from his fist. Xander braced his feet wide and fucked harder, faster, his fingers trying to dig into the wall behind him, going white with the effort. His head flung back and he made a choked sound, pearly strands of come arcing out of him. Stephens tilted his head back and caught it with his face and tongue.

Xander's chest heaved. He opened his eyes and looked down at Stephens, panting, hair hanging in his eyes. The streetlight shone in from the window at the end of the hall and painted the strands yellow. He bunched a hand in Stephens' hair at the the crown of his head and yanked so that Stephens back was arched and throat curved, vulnerable. Xander held him there and smoothed his other hand slowly up over Stephens' exposed throat, his chin, then pushed two fingers in his mouth and fucked in. Stephens groaned, again, breathy, helpless, sucking at the fingers. He tried to crabwalk closer to Xander on his knees and get his mouth on him again. His hand was in his pants, stroking himself frantically.

He managed to get his head against Xander's stomach and muttered into his skin, things like let me, let me, oh God, and fuck me, let me come on you, but other things, too. He begged, called Xander names, names Seth had heard recently. Stephens' tone was urgent, hoarse. Seth watched, his mind going blank. It didn't make sense, Stephens repeating names from Xander's dreams.

Something in Xander's face and body was changing, too. He stirred against the wall like someone who'd just awakened. The muscles in his arms went rigid. He bent over Stephens, hands gripping his shoulders. Seth heard words: who is—tell him don't, don't let him, Stephens, no, don't you, can't let him hurt you—

It was fucking ridiculous but Seth wanted to puke again. Xander made him want to puke. He was insane.

He opened the door wide and stood there, watching Xander's eyes grow wide, watched him push Stephens away. Stephens fell over on all fours. Xander pulled at the flaps of his pants, stuffed himself inside.

Seth let Xander see the contempt on his face. He couldn't breathe fast enough. He wanted to hit him, smash that wrecked, pretty, horrified face. His fists trembled at his sides. Xander flinched as Seth stepped out into the hall.

He pulled the door back gently, closing it in Xander's face.

He heard sounds later on in the hall. He heard an ambulance approach, and the sound of doors opening, people talking. The noise finally made him move off the bed where he'd been sitting, motionless, and look out. Some of the other students were standing around, talking, asking what had happened. John Anders from the opposite end of the hall squatted on the floor next to Stephens. Xander had his arms wrapped around Stephens, trying to keep him from beating his head into the wall.

Seth closed the door again. He sat on his bed, listening to the sounds gradually fade away. The sun flooded the room, strong and warm through the window. Xander didn't come back.











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