Feedback:  Yes, please, anything at is more than welcome at jb7811@comcast.net.
 

Summary:  Trevor gets back into character, which causes a bit of trouble when Sloan makes a startling confession.

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Slash and burn, insensitive
It comes all the way around and back again
Stunning move to make amends
Could have been a little more than faking it
--Sinking, Econoline Crush
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Trevor awoke to the feel of kisses on the back of his neck and hands moving his thighs apart.  He closed his eyes again but otherwise didn't move or make a sound as a wet tongue licked a trail across his shoulder.  A body moved between his wide spread legs, a hand reached under him, and Sloan's voice teased and tickled his ear. "Trevor, I know you're awake.  You're hard for me."

"Mmm hmm."  Trevor smiled into the pillow and lifted his ass slightly so that Sloan could work his cock, but found Sloan's cock pushing inside him instead.  Fitting like a hand in a glove and then holding still for a long moment.  Sloan slid his hands down the length of Trevor's arms until their fingers met and twined together, and Trevor clutched at them when Sloan started rocking his hips, slowly, so slowly brushing against Trevor's prostate.  Trevor matched the gentle rhythm and groaned at the delicious sting of fangs piercing his neck.  He fleetingly wondered which images of his life Sloan saw when drinking from him, but the thought drifted away along with everything else in his head as he rode a quietly rolling wave of ecstasy.

Sloan shuddered as he came a minute or so later and collapsed heavily onto Trevor.  He gave Trevor's neck a few more licks and sighed into his ear.  Trevor shrugged his shoulders and Sloan shifted off to one side, settling quickly into sleep.

Trevor rolled over onto his back, opened his eyes, and looked over at the man beside him.  Sloan's sharp features remained sharp, even in sleep.  No one would mistake him for childlike or innocent.  He retained the look of the soldier he once was, and Trevor didn't doubt that if he moved too quickly Sloan would awaken instantly alert.

Trevor had the unfortunate habit of sleeping like the dead.  More than one friend had told him that it would be the dust of him, but he persisted in his belief that he'd sense if he were truly in danger.  That and he only slept around people he instinctively trusted.  So what in the world was he doing in Sloan's bed?

Savoring the afterglow, of course, and going around in circles wondering what he was doing there.

He almost laughed out loud, but restrained himself.  He'd gotten all the sleep he was going to get for the day, but he was in no hurry to wake Sloan up.  And the bed was really comfortable, as all of Sloan's house seemed to be.  It was quite uptown from his place--from all his usual places, actually.  He knew Sloan had a house in Los Angeles which was the last location they'd met before last night, and he suspected he had at least a couple of other homes in Europe besides this one.  Trevor wondered if they were all this antique-decorator-luxurious.  He wouldn't put it past Sloan to have a castle tucked away someplace.

Trevor slipped out of bed, stretched every major muscle group until his joints popped, and wandered over to a dressing table.  He vaguely recognized it as a Louis the somethingth and probably an original, but he'd never been interested in more than functionality in furnishings so he wasn't sure.  Picking up an ivory comb, Trevor started working the tangles out of his hair and trying to remember which door led to the bathroom.

"You should never cut it."  Sloan spoke from the bed and his voice sounded completely awake.

"Well, I'm going to.  Tonight actually."  Trevor smirked at Sloan's reflection in the mirror.

Sloan lifted an eyebrow in return.  "Just to spite me?"

Trevor laughed at the presumption.  "You think too much of yourself.  I had already decided."  He laid the comb down and turned to face the bed.  "Maybe I'll just shave my head completely.  What do you think?"

Sloan stared at him for a moment and then sighed.  "It wouldn't make any difference."

At Trevor's puzzled look, he explained, "You'd still be beautiful."

Trevor laughed again and changed the subject.  "I'm going to take a shower.  Any chance for a cup of tea when I'm done?"

"If you'll share."  Sloan picked up the phone by his bed, pressed a button, and ordered a pot of Earl Grey brought to his rooms.  Placing his hand over the receiver, he looked up at Trevor, "Anything else you'd like?"

"Hmm...how about a sacrificial virgin?"

"Sorry, fresh out," Sloan said, totally deadpan.  "Should have been here last week.  Place was lousy with them.  Couldn't walk without tripping over sacrificial virgins."

"My loss then.  Well, I suppose tea will have to be good enough."  Trevor stretched his arms over his head and arched his back, enjoying the almost helpless way Sloan's gaze slid down his body even as he spoke into the phone.  Trusting a foggy memory from the wee hours of the morning, Trevor turned and headed for the door in the west wall.  Relieved that it was indeed the bathroom, Trevor glanced over his shoulder to find Sloan climbing out of bed, still watching him with a confused mix of emotions in his eyes.

##

Trevor had no sooner stepped out of the shower when the door opened and Sloan walked in holding a navy blue dressing gown similar to the one he wore.  His hair was damp and he had a fresh scrubbed look about him.  "I sent your clothes to be cleaned, and thought you might want something to wear in the meantime."

Trevor finished drying himself off and slipped the robe on.  He nodded his thanks.  "Very nice.  Is the tea here?"

"It's on its way up."  Sloan paused as if he were going to say something else, but only shook his head and turned to leave.  Over his shoulder, he said, "The tea and I will be in the sitting room down the hall."

Trevor took a fresh towel to his hair and trailed after Sloan, wondering just what was going on in the man's head.  He didn't have to wait very long to find out.
 

"Thank you, Stanford.  That will be all."  Sloan picked up his cup of tea and waited until the butler had closed the door behind him before speaking again, "I know what you did in Chicago."

"I believe I saw that movie.  It wasn't very scary."  Trevor shook his head at Sloan's confusion.  "Never mind."  He sipped at his tea, added a bit of milk, then sipped again.  "Lovely town, Chicago.  I go there often.  You'll have to be more specific if you want this conversation to be two sided."

"You made a new vampire after you told me you wouldn't."

Trevor cast his mind back several months, trying to recall.  "I don't believe I made any such promise."

"You indicated that you understood the dangers we had discussed."

"Oh, dangers, well yes.  Life's fraught with those, isn't it?"  Trevor smiled as Sloan narrowed his eyes in apparent irritation.  He took pity and explained, "This one asked for it.  He knew what he was getting into."

"I still don't think it's a good idea, Trevor.  Maybe *especially* if he asked for it.  What kind of person asks for this?"

That very question had crossed Trevor's mind several times during the night he spent with Alex.  A man with enemies, a grudge, some kind of mission...Trevor didn't know, but instinct told him that Alex wasn't evil or stupid.  If he understood what the life was, then Trevor saw no reason not to give it to him.  Trevor smiled warmly as he remembered how beautifully Alex had bled for him, how wild his passion had been.  But something in Sloan's voice made him wonder.  "You didn't?"

"Certainly not."  Emphatic and then challenging as he asked, "Why?  Did you?"

"No."  Trevor set his cup down and crossed his legs, tapping his fingers on his knee as he admitted, "But I might have, if given the chance and a glimpse of what my life might be like.  I have very few complaints."

"Really?  That well-adjusted, are you?"

"Aren't you?"

"After the first couple hundred years, one adapts," Sloan replied dryly, with a hint of a smile playing around his lips.

"If one wants to see another couple hundred, one certainly does."  Trevor agreed with a smile.

"I thought perhaps your nearly constant giving of the gift came from some deep unhappiness with the life, some weakness.  Loneliness, perhaps?"

And just like that, the comfortable companionship they'd been building was shattered and Trevor remembered why he'd never liked Sloan in the first place.  How dare he *judge* Trevor?  He, who'd probably killed more in battle and in the hunt than Trevor had even met, dared to take that superior tone with him?  "Where are my clothes?"

"You can't leave yet.  It's still light outside."

"This place has what?  Fifteen, twenty rooms?  I'm sure we can avoid each other for a few hours."

"That's not necessary, you know.  I just think that you should consider--"

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me," Trevor snapped.

"I *thought* that after last night you'd be more willing to listen to reason."

"A few fucks doesn't give you the right to play Doctor Freud."

"Fine, Trevor.  Just calm down."

Trevor's hands curled into fists and his gums itched with the desire to go full fang.  Of all the things that Sloan could have said at this particular moment, that was undoubtedly the worst.  Reining in his fury, Trevor walked around the table and leaned down into Sloan's face and said, "Don't for one minute think that I am not calm.  It will be the last thing you ever do."

"And you really don't want to threaten me."  Anger tightened Sloan's voice, but his face remained calm.

"I'll tell you now the same thing I said in LA.  Back.  Off."  Trevor suited his actions to his words and straightened up, out of Sloan's personal space.  He shook his head in disappointment that was only half-mocking.  "And we'd been getting along so well."

Sloan nodded and seemed to look a bit regretful.  "Yes.  It was nice, wasn't it?"

"It doesn't have to end.  Just don't tell me what to do or try to figure me out."  Trevor reached down, grabbed Sloan's hand, and pulled him to his feet, plastering their bodies together.  "Maybe it'd be better if we didn't talk at all."

Sloan licked his lips as he looked down at Trevor.  "Using sex as avoidance is--" Trevor tightened his grip on Sloan's hand, squeezing until he could feel bones grinding together under the skin.  At the same time, he wrapped his free hand around Sloan's waist and pressed his growing erection against Sloan's thigh.  "Wonderful.   Suddenly I'm all for avoidance."  He pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around Trevor.

"I rather thought you might be."  Trevor finally let his fangs descend and sank them into Sloan's throat, savoring the rich blood that poured into his mouth before he swallowed it.  He barely registered the purring little moan that Sloan made, because he opened up his mind and let the flashes hit him.

Blood--men yelling in battle-rage, horses screaming in terror.  Pain--a thin pale face with burning black eyes and long sharp teeth.  Hunger--Sloan drinking from a dark haired girl.  Lust--Sloan staring at Trevor across a crowded Renaissance ballroom then a modern dance floor, on streets in various cities where horses and gaslights gave way to automobiles and halogen.  The waves of shocking angry need the only constant in the changing flashes of location.

Trevor jerked his fangs out of Sloan's throat with a gasp, absently licking the wound before he raised his eyes.  His face a mask of pleasure, Sloan slowly opened his eyes and closed his mouth.  He blinked at Trevor and said, "What?"

"I...  Nothing."  Unable to reconcile what he'd seen with what he thought he knew, Trevor slipped his hands inside Sloan's dressing gown and ran his hands down his torso to his hard, already dripping cock.  He dampened his finger on the wet tip and brought it to his mouth, sucking it clean.  "Didn't want to get you off yet."

Sloan licked at Trevor's lips and murmured, "Smart boy.  We have hours to kill.  Why don't we--"

"John!"  An agitated voice broke into the intimate moment, cutting off whatever suggestion Sloan had been about to make.  "I have to talk to you right now."

Trevor didn't move except to turn his head to one side so that he could see who had interrupted them so rudely.  A dark-skinned, dark-haired man of about thirty mortal years stood in the open doorway with his hands on his hips, a frown on his blunt featured face.

Sloan nipped at Trevor's ear then sighed.  He turned his head slowly and said, "I'm busy, Eduardo."

"Yes, yes, I can see that."  Trevor detected a bit of distaste in the look Eduardo spared him before focusing once more on Sloan.  "But you have to talk to Marisa.  She is threatening to ruin my deal with the Argentineans, and you must talk sense into her."

"That is very clearly *business*, while this--" Sloan indicated Trevor in his arms "--is clearly *not*.  Go away now."  He turned back to Trevor with a little now-where-were-we smile and leaned in for a kiss.

"We're talking about a five million dollar deal here, John."

Eduardo apparently was not going to give up, and it was getting on Trevor's nerves.  He pulled away from Sloan and stalked over to the young man in the door.  "No, Eddie, *you* were talking about a five million dollar deal.  Sloan and I were talking about fucking and drinking blood.  If you have nothing to contribute on either subject--" he cocked his head dismissively as if there was no possibility of that happening "--then kindly shut up and go away."  With that, he shoved Eduardo back a step and slammed the door in his face.

"Good show, Trevor."  Sloan laughed and ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up in messy spikes.  "The sad thing is, he'll probably be back.  Single minded, our Eduardo is."

"He's not *my* Eduardo and I'll drain him dry if he comes back before I'm done with you. And I wouldn't turn him once he was empty either."  Trevor lifted an eyebrow as he turned the lock on the door and took off his robe. "Because you told me not to do that anymore," he added sarcastically, walking back across the room naked.

Sloan walked over to an ornately carved cabinet and opened a drawer.  He took out a small bottle and came back to Trevor's side.  "I'll tell you a secret if you promise to keep it."

"Of course."  Trevor nodded his head and took the bottle out of Sloan's hand.  Just out of curiosity, he glanced down to see what brand of lube it was.  "This is one of my favorites.  Can't get it in the States."

"Mm hmm."  Sloan shrugged out of his robe and knelt in front of Trevor, blowing lightly on his cock.  "The secret is that Eduardo thinks I'm going to turn him if he just closes enough deals and makes enough money for my company."

"Will you be supremely hypocritical and do it?"  Trevor gasped as Sloan's tongue circled the head of his cock.

"No, but he's easier to handle if he thinks so."  Sloan flicked his tongue teasingly along the raised veins on the underside of Trevor's cock.

"Manipulative bastard."  Trevor buried his fingers in Sloan's hair and tugged him forward.  "Suck me already."

So Sloan did for several long enjoyable minutes, but he stopped when Trevor was close to coming, causing Trevor to comment rather breathlessly, "Forget manipulative, you're an *evil* bastard."

"Didn't want to get you off yet."  Sloan threw Trevor's earlier words back at him with a dry smile, amusing a sharp bark of laughter out of Trevor.

After a panting moment of trying to calm his body down, Trevor remembered the bottle of lube he'd had and apparently dropped at some point.  Kneeling, he pushed Sloan down onto his back and looked around for the bottle.  He found it under the tea table and popped the top open.  He took a cruel delight in the way Sloan flinched at the coldness of the gel as Trevor slicked it inside him with fingers that weren't particularly gentle.

Trevor smoothed some lube onto his erection, hooked Sloan's legs over his shoulders, and slowly pushed inside him.  He sucked in a breath at the tight constriction on his cock and said, "Relax, Sloan.  I don't want to hurt you."

Sloan nodded and wrapped his fingers around Trevor's forearms, but he didn't relax in any way that Trevor could tell.  He flexed his hips and watched Sloan's face closely for a reaction.  If anything, the man closed down further and Trevor snapped, "What do you want anyway?  Hard, gentle, fast, slow, what?"

"I don't know," Sloan said after a long moment.  "I don't know.  I want you."

Trevor leaned forward until Sloan was almost bent in half and whispered, "You always have, haven't you?"

"Please, Trevor, just--"

"Not until you admit it."

"Yes, all right."  There was a bit of desperation in Sloan's voice now, along with frustration, heat, and not quite embarrassment.  "I wanted you from the first time I saw you.  Are you happy?"

"I'm fucking ecstatic," replied Trevor.  And he was.  This confession did wonders for his ego, which wasn't exactly damaged goods anyway, and more importantly gave him power over Sloan.  He only wished he'd known this a few hundred years ago.  All this time, he could have been torturing Sloan with it.  Taking Sloan's limp cock in hand, Trevor stroked it back to fullness as he thrust smoothly inside him.

The smell of arousal on freshly washed skin, the reluctant moans coming from Sloan as Trevor slammed into his hot tight body faster and faster, the look of ecstasy in half-open blue eyes...it all overwhelmed Trevor in a scalding rush and he came, mindlessly pumping Sloan's cock as his orgasm thundered through him.

When his head stopped spinning and the room came back into focus around him, Trevor withdrew from Sloan and crawled across the floor to reach his robe.  He sat down at the edge of the expensive Persian rug on which they'd just fucked and stuck his arms through the sleeves, drawing the garment close around him.  He sat there for a long moment trying to get his legs figuratively under him so that he could do it literally as well.  His flinch was completely natural and uncalculated when Sloan crawled up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

"That was fantastic.  *You* are fantastic, my love." Sloan's mismatched accent of Eastern European and British inflections--not unlike Trevor's mishmash of accents from all the places he'd lived--gave the compliment an alien tone.  Maybe it was just the scarcity of such terms in Trevor's life.  He used endearments all the time without really meaning them, but no one ever called him such names.

He didn't like it.

Before Trevor could reply, Sloan wrapped one arm around his chest and used his free hand to brush Trevor's hair back from his neck.  He pressed tender kisses along the side of Trevor's throat, whispering between each, "I do, you know.  I love you."

The words hit Trevor like a bucket of ice water but after a stunned moment, he started to laugh.  Laughing so hard his shoulders shook and his sides hurt, Trevor pulled away from a very shocked looking Sloan and got to his feet.  He swayed for a moment as he tried to catch his breath, and finally he was able to speak.  "You can't be serious."

"Yes, quite."  Sloan frowned up at him and said, "Although, now I'm beginning to wonder why."

The hilarity drained away leaving a curious emptiness.  Trevor was almost certain that Sloan was winding him up, but it was the 'almost' part that worried him.  Sloan couldn't possibly mean that, could he?  After just one night of sex?  Neither of them were teenage virgin girls given to romance, so where the hell had it come from?  He didn't know, but it could go right back as far as he was concerned.

"You don't love me, Sloan.  You said yourself you don't even like me."

"They can be mutually exclusive."  Sloan rose gracefully to his feet, still naked--gloriously so, Trevor was irritated to notice.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sloan. "Maybe in your fantasy world, but not in the real world the rest of us live in."

"I won't argue with you about this, Trevor.  You've drunk from me and--"

"So what?" Trevor interrupted belligerently, feeling rather cornered by all this.

"You *know*.  Blood doesn't lie."

"Bah!  This is ridiculous."  Trevor turned away and opened the door.  "If my clothes haven't been returned to your bedroom, I'm taking some of yours."

"You can't run from the truth, Trevor."

Sloan sounded amused behind him, but Trevor didn't turn around as he called, "No, but I can walk away from an idiot.  Watch me."

##

Trevor sifted through the clothes in Sloan's huge walk-in closet, muttering to himself, "One fuck!  Okay, more like half a dozen and yeah, they were phenomenal, but still.  Love?  Fucking hell.  No jeans?  No t-shirts?  That's almost as perverse as his insane ideas.  He really is a narcissistic, self-absorbed, judgmental, *delusional* bastard.  What kind of fool does he take me for?  He doesn't even have a proper selection of clothing.  Loves me, my ass."

Choosing a pair of black cotton pants that looked like they might fit him, Trevor pulled them on, unconcerned over the lack of underwear, even though they were one of his favorite fashion developments of the last couple centuries.  He certainly wasn't going to borrow those as well, although 'borrow' implied that he'd give them back at some point and he really hadn't planned on doing so.  That was why he made sure to choose clothes that he actually liked and not just grab the first thing at hand.  "Hmm, yes, I believe this very expensive black dress shirt will fit quite well.  Damn that supercilious, *sexy*, leather-wearing--" Giving up on English and switching to Italian for the rest of his tirade, he slipped the shirt on.  He discovered that it was, like the pants, too long but not so much that he looked like a child playing dress up.

Rolling the sleeves up as he walked, Trevor stepped into the bedroom to find Sloan waiting for him.  The infuriating man lounged on the bed in nothing but a pair of white boxers and Trevor couldn't stop his eyes from taking in the whole length of his tightly muscled body.  "I would have come in there and gotten properly dressed, but I didn't want to interrupt your fascinating conversation with yourself."

"Fuck you and all your household retainers," Trevor said in his native tongue, smiling sweetly.

Sloan smiled and answered back in flawless Italian, "You already have fucked me, *dear*, and I want you to do it again soon.  But I don't think Stanford and his missus are quite your type.  Although, you're more than welcome to try."

With a disgusted look, Trevor switched back to English.  "Prick."  He found one boot behind the door and the other under the bed, then sat down on a chair far away from Sloan to put them on.

"I really don't understand you, Trevor."

Trevor couldn't hold back a rueful smile as he asked quite seriously, "And this is late breaking news to you?"

Sloan ignored the comment and continued, "Most normal people *want* to be loved.  Haven't you ever been in love before?"

"Of course I have.  But it's childish and I don't believe you anyway."

"Who's being childish here?"

"Shut up, Sloan."

"Very adult rejoinder there, love."

"Sloan, I hope you don't misunderstand this but take it in the spirit of crushing rejection in which it's given: Fuck off."  With that, Trevor walked out the door and made his way downstairs.

The grandfather clock at the end of the hall chimed seven when he walked past, so he wouldn't have to stay here much longer, he was glad to realize.  Who knew what insane notion Sloan would come up with next?

As he met the butler on the stairs, the thought occurred to Trevor that maybe he wouldn't have to wait for the sun to go completely down.  "Hello...Stanford, is it?"  At the man's respectful nod, Trevor continued, "Ah, good.  I wondered if perhaps Mr. Sloan has a car with heavily tinted windows down in the garage?"

"Yes, sir, but Loudon, Mr. Sloan's driver, is doing some routine maintenance on it at the moment.  I'm sure you could borrow the staff vehicle, if it's an emergency.  Unfortunately, it has clear windows."

"He told you to keep me here, didn't he?"  Trevor watched the dignified middle-aged man suspiciously, but was met with only blank politeness.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, sir.  I have no specific orders in regards to you."

Still suspicious, but not wanting to take it out on the help, Trevor asked, "And what about my clothes?"

"Mrs. Stanford is taking care of them in the laundry room.  If you would like to wait in the library on the first floor--second door to the left of the staircase--she'll bring them to you as soon as they're ready."

"Thank you, Stanford."

"My pleasure, sir."  With another small nod, the butler continued on his way and Trevor went on down the stairs.

The library was empty of people but Trevor could hear the murmur of voices coming from an open door at the end of the large two-storied room.  Walking silently up to the door of the adjacent room, Trevor shamelessly eavesdropped on the occupants.

"Just let me do it."  A young woman spoke with apparent disgust.  "You wrecked the hard drive last time you touched it."

"I did not," said an indignant man with a thick German accent.  "That was Owen."

"Wasn't me.  I don't touch that devil box.  My I-Book is all I need."  This voice was also male and had a deep seductive timbre, even talking about mundane things.  Trevor supposed this was Owen and wondered if he had the looks to back up a voice that sexy.

"For what?  Downloading porn?" Eduardo, the pest from earlier, chimed in with that.

"Yeah, I just can't get enough jpegs of you jacking off.  When are you going to update your site again?"

General laughter broke out then, drowning out whatever reply Eduardo might have made.  Trevor smiled and decided to abandon the safety of the library's shadows.  He stepped into the open doorway of what turned out to be a spacious office and waited for someone to notice him.

Eduardo was the first to glance in his direction and he sneered, "Oh, look who's here.  Our master's toy."

"Ah, Eddie, such bitterness in one so young.  Jealousy doesn't become you."  Trevor shook his head in mock sadness, but he had already surveyed the other occupants of the room.  A nondescript man and a pretty redhead stared at him over an open computer case, where they'd undoubtedly been poking at the mysterious bits and pieces inside.  A business-suited blonde woman worked at another desk, apparently ignoring the chatter going on around her.

And then there was the young man--vampire, Trevor was sure--walking toward him with predatory grace.  "Well, hello there.  I'm Owen McClain and please tell me that Eduardo was kidding about you and John."

For a just a moment, Trevor wondered who John was, and then remembered there were more people on earth than just this tall, handsome hazel-eyed creature with a smile that managed to be sultry and friendly at the same time.  He smiled back and returned the offered handshake, subtly impressed with the strength in the smooth, manicured hand.  "Sloan and I have known each other for a very long time.  That's the extent of it.  Trevor Darien, at your service."

"But you are the guest here, so I shall be at yours.  If there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable, you just let me know."  Owen gave a quick glance downward and said softly, "*Anything* at all."

"What lovely manners.  Eddie could learn a lot from you."  Trevor slowly withdrew his hand and told himself he couldn't possibly be interested after the exhausting night he'd just spent.  And maybe he wasn't, physically, but he firmly believed in keeping his future options open.  "In fact, I am rather hungry.  If you could lead me to some liquid refreshment other than tea, I would be most appreciative."

"It would be my pleasure."  He turned to the blonde and said, "Could you page me if that call comes in from Amsterdam?"

"No problem."  She nodded to Trevor.  "Hello, I'm Marisa, and that's Louise and Gerhardt over there.  I take it you already know Eduardo."

"We've met.  A pleasure to meet you all."  With a little wave and a smile, Trevor turned to follow Owen out of the office, but not so closely that he couldn't check out the guy's ass.  It was very nice.  He extended his hearing to listen in to the conversation that started up again as soon as he was out of the room.

"He's kinda cute," Louise said in a low voice.  "I wonder if he's really sleeping with John."

"He's too skinny," Gerhardt said dismissively.  "And did you see that tattoo on his arm?  With that and the messy hair, he looks like a skanky rock star."

"Hey, I have tattoos and they are *not* skanky."  Marisa laughed as she chastised the German.  "He must be sleeping with John because those were definitely his clothes our guest was wearing."

"Oh trust me, John is fucking the rude little twit all right.  I practically had to see them doing it."  Eduardo still sounded bitter about being dismissed from Sloan's presence in favor of Trevor.  He said something else, but Trevor missed it because Owen stopped in the doorway to the hall and spoke to him.

"Am I going too fast for you?"

"No, not at all.  I was just listening to your friends talking about me."  Trevor smiled and sauntered out into hall.

"That's not very polite."  Owen frowned playfully and lectured, "We can't be using our superiority over mortals for such frivolous reasons."

"If you're not joking, you've been around Sloan too long."  Trevor gave him a wink.  "Maybe I should take you away from all this."

"I'd really rather you didn't, Trevor."  Sloan's voice cut in from the direction of the stairs behind them. As Trevor and Owen turned to look at him, he walked forward with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.  "Owen's one of my best business partners.  I'd hate to have to kill him."

Owen smiled uncertainly and said, "You've got to be kidding, John."

Sloan just looked at Trevor intently.  Trevor shook his head and spoke to Owen without taking his eyes off Sloan.  "Owen, why don't you go get me that drink we discussed, while I talk to your partner?"

The silence held for what seemed like hours, but was more likely a minute or two.  In any case, Trevor refused to let it get to him and he refused to let Sloan's bit of insanity seem worth more than it was.  When he spoke, it was with the air of a snake making small talk with a rat that may or may not become dinner.  "Sloan, you really should understand some things.  I don't love you.  I don't take kindly to threats--even when they are directed at someone else, unless I make them.  And I will not let you dictate who I fuck.  If Owen decides he wants a shag from me, it's none of your affair.  If you try to make it your affair, I'll be forced to make you regret it."

"You're being very chi--"

"If you want to keep your fangs in your mouth, you won't finish that thought."

"Trevor, you are being ridic--"

"Or that one.  Try to come up with an argument that isn't insulting."

Sloan stared at him for a moment and then grinned.  "Ah ah, I get it.  You want me to convince you.  To court you."

Trevor chuckled and shook his head.  "Hardly that.  I just want to be treated like a rational adult who is free to do whatever or whomever he wants.  I'm very attached to the idea of free will."

"Oh, I see.   Like those young vampires you make without consideration for what it will do to them.  Is that the kind of free will you mean?"

"Nice to see this so-called 'love' of yours hasn't changed you any."

"I can love you without agreeing with everything you do."

"But I don't want you to *love* me."  He gave the troublesome word as much mocking emphasis as he could.  "I don't believe in it.  I don't want it.  From anyone.  So just stop it right now."

"I can only stop telling you, Trevor."  Sloan reached out a tentative hand to Trevor's cheek and smiled sadly.  "I can't stop doing it."

Trevor took a step back, wondering what had happened to the nice orderly world he thought he lived in.  It was all upside down and inside out.

The sound of a throat being cleared brought his head around to see a discomfited Owen standing nearby with a glass in his hand.  Trevor took it with a muttered "thanks" and took a long drink.  The scotch burned a trail down his throat, and he bit back a curse.  He'd wanted blood, but the alcohol would have to do.  He drained the glass and handed it back to Owen with a nod.

"Well, then.  I don't suppose the car and my clothes are ready yet?"  Trevor tilted an inquisitive smile in Owen's direction.  He couldn't quite work up the energy to make it flirtatious as well.

"I believe Loudon is standing ready to take you anywhere you need to go."  The glance Owen cast in Sloan's direction seemed apologetic, but he spoke to Trevor politely.  "If you're in a hurry to get home, I could show you to Mrs. Stanford.  I'm sure she has everything ready to go by now."

"Thank you."  Trevor turned back to Sloan and narrowed his eyes consideringly.  What to say, what to say...  "Sloan, thank you for a lovely evening, last night.  Today was quite illuminating, in a rather uncomfortable sunlightish sort of way, but these things happen.  I'm sure we'll run into each other again sometime.  In the meantime, I suggest you seek therapy for your little problem."

"Yes, and I suggest the same for you, my love."  Sloan smiled so pleasantly when he said it that Trevor was caught off-guard when Sloan swooped forward with preternatural speed and kissed him.  He kissed him hard and deep, setting off all kinds of explosive reactions in Trevor's belly before letting him go.

Trevor swallowed convulsively and quickly pulled himself together.  "Ciao, Sloan."  He took a few steps and continued, "Lead on, Owen."

If the other men noticed that his voice wasn't precisely steady, they were both too much the gentleman to mention it.  Whatever.  He was grateful for the reprieve.  He just wanted to get back to his loft where he could make arrangements for a flight out of this blighted country.  Maybe he'd go hunting first.  He was suddenly very hungry.
 

The End.

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