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STOLEN BY THE PAST Chapter Two: In his haste to leave, he walked right into a figure. "Oh," he said, rebounding off the man. "I am sorry," he added, lifting his smiling face. "Oh," he said again when he saw who it was. Ulray. For over a year they had flirted with one and other, stolen secret touches and forbidden looks. A yearning had passed between them but Tajar had always held back because of his commitment to Deilan. Even when the end had been inevitable, Tajar had still not gone to Ulray. He was the one piece of forbidden fruit Tajar had not tasted because he'd thought that by not having Ulray he was redeeming himself for the other men and women he'd taken to his bed. Ulray; Tajar sighed the name. So tall, so young, so beautiful. His youthful, immortal skin, the only blemish upon it being the dots of dark stubble. Tajar's eyes lifted higher, unable to look away. His green eyes shone out, his black hair fell down against his forehead. Just like always, they moved together, their bodies reacting instinctively to one and others. Tajar did not need to think, did not need to guide his body; it did what it wanted. It seemed he was no longer obsessed with leaving the tavern, getting away from Deilan; he now only wanted to stay locked in this dance with Ulray until the end of time. How could it be that Ulray - who Deilan had once told him could be no older than sixty years in age - could have this hold over him? When only a moment ago Tajar had been wondering where his spark for Deilan had gone, he'd suddenly found it in Ulray again. |
Ulray's breath tickled softly against his face. It began to fall slower and deeper, Ulray licking his lips in anticipation of a kiss. With deliberate slowness, enjoying the control he held over the boy, Tajar allowed his mouth to fall open. Already he could feel the young man trembling in anticipation. His breath tasted so sweet against his face and all Tajar could think about was entwining his body with the black beauty's. For them to continue their strange and intoxicating dance throughout the night, howling to the moon as wolves, as passion took control of their actions. And still closer their mouths moved; amazingly they were not yet kissing. Sucking in a deep breath, Tajar tasted Ulray's exhaled air and drank it down deep into his throat. "Tajar," Ulray moaned sweetly, barely able to contain himself. But the whispered word, spoken with such innocence and ecstasy, broke through Tajar's desires. Something happened, something changed and suddenly the rest of the world came flooding back into Tajar's senses. The sights and sounds of the tavern flooded his eyes and ears; its smell wiped away all traces of Ulray's breath in his nostrils. He stared up at Ulray, then quickly across at the bar. Deilan was there. Tajar could see him, still serving drinks, completely oblivious to his actions - but for how long would he remain blind? It needed only one wrong person to see what he and Ulray were engaged in for Deilan's heart to be shattered and humiliated. "I cannot," Tajar whispered, more to himself than to Ulray. He looked up at Ulray. It was so tempting. Oh, he was so sweet. But he couldn't. Not here, not in this place. This tavern belonged to the past, to his relationship with Deilan. He would not take Ulray now, after all this time of waiting, in this rotten building.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, turning, heading for the exit. He flicked a glance back over his shoulder and smiled. Ulray would follow.
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