Eternally His

by Shawn Lane

Seymour’s face twisted in pain and his hold on Graham’s neck loosened. He flipped Seymour onto his back, and pulled Seymour’s hands from his throat, bending back the fingers with a sickening crunch. He twisted the dagger sticking out of Seymour’s throat. The ancient vampire howled with rage and pain. Seymour’s head dipped toward Graham’s neck.

  “Graham!” Morton yelled from the doorway.

  Graham twisted away from Seymour’s piercing fangs, but Seymour gripped his arms and heaved him away, throwing Graham across the room and into the nearest wall.

  Seymour struggled to his knees as Graham tried to shake away the daze. Then, Seymour stood.

  Morton bent down, picked up the axe, and tossed it to Graham, who caught the heavy weapon.

  “Morton, help me,” Seymour pleaded.

  “He will never help you and he will never be yours again.”

  “No, I—”

  Graham rose to his feet, hoisted the axe, and swung hard, slicing through Seymour’s neck, severing his head from his body. The head rolled on the floor as the body fell. Blood splattered all over Graham’s clothes and coated the axe.

  Breathing heavily, he cast the axe aside and stared at Seymour’s lifeless body.

  He had the urge to cross himself, but as an immortal bloodsucker himself he figured that would be rather hypocritical. He felt almost numb staring at the end of his torment. Morton’s torment. Graham had thought it was over before, though. This time, however, he couldn’t imagine how Seymour could come back.

  “Graham?” Morton whispered, his eyes wide.

  Graham’s legs were just a little wobbly. “Here, love. Come, it’s all right.”

  Morton bit his lip, hesitating. His gaze dropped to Seymour. “It’s over?”

  Graham nodded and held out his arms. Morton rushed to him and threw his arms around Graham’s middle. He held him tightly. “You’re mine, Morton. Eternally.”

  Chapter 9

  Morton smiled up at the full moon as he sat in the sidewalk café waiting for Graham. He loved Vienna at night. It was magical. And sitting outside at a little table under an umbrella watching locals and tourists eating and sipping coffee made him wish he was mortal and could join them in every day ordinary things.

  Their hotel, the Graben, was next to the café. Morton had ordered a coffee just so he’d blend in as he waited. He could have waited in their room, but he wanted the night air, the night life. One day, maybe, they would settle in Vienna, or at least buy a little cottage outside the city to spend some of their time. A local musician nearby played a haunting, mournful song on his violin.

  And then Graham was there, walking down the little narrow street toward him, dressed in dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved sweater that seemed to perfectly set off his blond hair. Excitement shot through Morton, tightening his balls, and causing his cock to rise against the crotch of his own jeans.

  Graham smiled as he approached and took the other seat at the table, leaning forward to kiss Morton softly on the lips.

  “Mmm. Everything all right?”

  “Everything is perfect,” Graham assured him. “Albert and I saw to the disposal of the remains.”

  Moron nodded. “And you’re sure he will not be revived?”

  “We burned him. Both parts of him. Until he was nothing but ashes.”

  “And what of Albert?”

  Graham shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s going to do and I don’t care. Albert is free to do as he wishes. Hopefully we will never see him again.”

  He smiled. “So, now what?”

  “We can spend some time here in Vienna if you want.”

  “I want that.”

  “Me, too,” Graham said. “Do you still want to be Xavier?”

  “Can I? With what happened to Henry?”

  “Don’t worry. We still have contacts with the police in Los Angeles. I think we can make sure Xavier isn’t blamed for Henry’s murder. Do you want to continue?”

  Morton thought about it. He’d loved performing, singing. He’d felt almost alive up on stage. “Yes, Graham.”

  “Then you will.” Graham reached for his hand and kissed it. “Come, let’s walk a bit.”

  “I’d like that.”

  They walked down the narrow street toward Saint Stephen’s Cathedral, though the cathedral was not their destination. People passed them by, about their own business, not any more interested in them than anyone else. Morton thought it was nice.

  “When was the last time we were here?” he asked.

  Graham appeared to think about it. “Hmm. Seventeen eighty-five? Eighty-six?”

  “Too long.”

  “It’s changed some, but still the same, too.”

  They passed more cafés and coffee houses, shops and churches.

  “I’d like to go to Salzburg. Before we return to Los Angeles. It’s been even longer for that.”

  Graham grasped his hand as they stopped in front of Saint Stephen’s. “I remember when we would go to the balls and fetes. And you would sing.”

  Morton smiled. “I know. I loved those days.”

  “You sang like an angel. You always have.” He turned Morton to face him and rested his hands around Morton’s waist. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew there was no one else I’d ever want like I wanted you.”

  He cupped Graham’s jaw. “I felt the same. But you had a wife. And children.”

  “Yes.” Graham nodded. “In those days, I had little choice. I knew I preferred men, but I could let no one know. Still I loved you and wanted you.”

  “Me, too.”

  Graham leaned his forehead against Morton’s. “The night Seymour took you from me, we’d fought. I hated myself for that.”

  He swallowed. “It was not your fault.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’d had a…terrible day. Word had come that my enemy was gaining power and planned an attack on the castle. I snapped at you and you ran.” Graham closed his eyes. “And then, you were gone. I didn’t know where. I just knew it was because of me.”

  “Graham, Seymour had seen me before that night. If it had not happened then, it would have happened another time. It was not your fault.”

  Graham opened his eyes and nodded. “I’m glad it’s over. Finally.”

  “Me, too.” Morton glanced around them. “It’s colder here at night than in Los Angeles.”

  “It is.”

  He laughed. “Funny that. Some things don’t change even when you’re immortal. You still get cold.”

  “And hot.”

  “Still feel pleasure.”

  “And pain.”

  “Love.”

  Graham nodded. “And hate. It’s time for me to take you up our room, so I can show you just how happy I am to have you with me. Forever.”

  * * * *

  “I don’t know why this place doesn’t have an elevator.”

  Graham laughed. “It does. It’s just broken. These old buildings were converted into hotels. You remember this one from last time. It was someone’s home.”

  They walked up three sets of stairs to their floor and down the hall to the end. Graham pushed Morton against the door as he was reaching to take the key out of his pocket.

  “Hey—”

  His lips were covered—no…devoured by Graham’s. The big warrior’s hands slid under Morton’s shirt, stroking over bare skin. Then Graham inched a hand down to Morton’s crotch and squeezed.

  “Oh, fuck,” Morton gasped against Graham’s mouth.

  “I guess I can’t do that here in the hallway where anyone can see.”

  “Probably not a good idea. Inside. Now.”

  Graham released him long enough to slip the key into the lock and then nudged Morton inside. He slammed the door closed after them and pushed Morton toward the bed.

  “Do you like this shirt?”

  “Hmm?”

  Graham laughed, his fingers on the hem of Morton’s black shirt. “Do you like this shirt?”

  He frowned. “I like
it okay, but it’s not a favorite.”

  “Great.” Graham tore Morton’s shirt up the middle and quickly disposed of the remnants. “You are so beautiful.”

  Morton trembled at the almost reverent tone in Graham’s voice. “Love you. Always.”

  Graham covered Morton’s naked body with his own, trailing kisses along his jaw. “I love you. I worship you.” Kissing his nose, Graham smiled above him. “Roll over on your stomach.”

  Morton immediately did as Graham said and waited to see what his lover had in mind. Big, callused hands parted his ass cheeks and a blunt finger brushed along his crease. He moaned and wiggled.

  And then a tongue followed the path of the finger.

  “Graham, oh.”

  Graham’s tongue dipped inside Morton’s hole, pushing through the tight ring. Closing his eyes, Morton fisted the sheet on the bed and let his mind go blank, concentrating on nothing but the sensation of Graham’s tongue stabbing in and out of him. His lover added a finger, pushing it in deep.

  “Ah, fuck.”

  Morton slid his hand beneath him and closed his fist around the head of his cock. He stroked the length, building a matching rhythm to Graham’s tongue and fingers working inside him. Pressure built inside him, in his cock and balls, almost unbearable. He couldn’t stop the whimpers and hoarse groans that poured from his lips.

  And then Graham turned him over to lie on his back, his fingers still thrusting in Morton’s ass, but now Graham’s mouth sucked his dick, swallowing him down.

  Graham’s hand rolled his balls and he sucked hard on Morton, taking him deeper into his throat.

  “Graham, oh, Graham.” Morton shook with the force of his orgasm as he emptied into Graham’s mouth.

  After draining him, Graham released Morton’s cock and lifted his legs, hoisting them up onto his shoulders. Graham thrust inside him all the way.

  “Fuck me,” Morton urged.

  With a deep, hoarse groan, Graham began to move within him, pounding slow and deep, thoroughly making Morton his own. Their gazes locked and the look of love and lust in Graham’s eyes filled Morton with such joy he felt ready to burst.

  Tightening his muscles around Graham’s cock, he was rewarded by a moan.

  “Morton, yes.” Graham’s thrusts sped up and his eyes closed as he pumped Morton through his orgasm.

  * * * *

  Morton quietly opened the window in the hotel room and looked out into night. Wee hours of the morning, really. It would be dawn soon. Behind him, Graham lay on his stomach, sleeping.

  Seymour was gone. For good, it seemed. He searched himself, wondering if he felt the emptiness that Seymour told him about. Relief he felt. A sense of finality, yes. But empty? Perhaps he’d felt empty for so long he could not recognize it. It was not different from the way he usually felt.

  Graham stirred in the bed, but Morton didn’t turn from the window. Soon, Graham came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him close.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  Graham kissed his bare shoulder. “About what, love?”

  “Seymour said I would feel empty when my creator was destroyed. It would be as though a part of me had been destroyed.”

  He was turned so that he faced Graham, who pushed his head onto his broad shoulder. “And? How do you feel?”

  Morton shook his head. “I feel…nothing. No sorrow, no happiness. Just glad it is over.”

  “Perhaps that is the feeling he spoke of?”

  “It is not a bad feeling. I don’t feel very different except that for once Seymour won’t come after us.”

  “Maybe you are still in shock. We’ve been through a lot these few days. I am happy. We can finally have the life we wanted together.”

  “Yes, but we are still what we are. We still must drink blood to survive.” Morton sighed. “Have you ever considered maybe we should end our own lives? Walk into the sun together and put it to rest at last.”

  “You have?”

  He nodded. “I have. Perhaps it is the coward’s way. I don’t know. I don’t like being this way.”

  “I know, love,” Graham said, hugging him tight. “In answer to your question, no. I treasure every moment we spend together, for however long it is, and by whatever means.”

  Morton pulled back slightly and gazed into Graham’s eyes. “I wonder sometimes why you love me.”

  “You are perfect.”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “For me.” Graham smiled. “You should close the window and come back to bed.”

  “I know.”

  Graham tilted his chin up and swept his lips over Morton’s. “I do know one thing.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Seymour was wrong about you.”

  “About me?”

  “You are not his. You never have been. You are mine. Eternally.”

  Morton smiled, feeling hope for the first time in a long time.

  THE END

  ABOUT SHAWN LANE

  Shawn Lane is a multi-published author of gay romances and believes love and passion know no boundaries. Happily Ever After is for everyone.

  She has been published by Loose Id, Ellora's Cave, Amber Quill Press, Dreamspinner Press, and Evernight Publishing.

  Shawn lives in California and holds down a boring day job in a legal department of a giant corporation dreaming of the nights and weekends when she can create new stories.

  For more information, visit smlgr8.blogspot.com.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!