Nocturnal Visits

Riff stirred, awakening as he heard his door being very quietly pushed open. He didn't get up, however, as at this time of night there was only ever one person who visited him, and he was in no danger from the young Count Cain. Keeping his eyes closed and his body lax, he listened carefully as the door was closed and soft footsteps approached his bed. He smiled inwardly as the feet avoided the creaky floorboards with the ease of a route long committed to memory. The mattress dipped to his side, and a weight slowly lowered itself onto the bed, easing gently into Riff's side. A bony arm wedged itself against his chest as a head of soft, fragrant hair landed on his shoulder. Riff held himself still as Cain curled up beside him, knowing that the younger man would cease his nocturnal visits if he realised Riff woke up every time he entered his room. Cain's pride would not allow him to ask for comfort even if he needed it badly, but his nightmares were sometimes too severe for him to face alone. He was no more capable of asking for help at night than he was during the day, but being Cain he had devised a way around it. He sneaked in at a godforsaken hour of the morning, sneaked out again just as early, and neither of them ever slept during the time he was there. Cain's breath gusted out in a sigh over the bare skin of his shoulder, and Riff suppressed a shiver. The smooth linen of the Count's nightshirt rubbed against his bare torso with every slight movement Cain made in ways that were sinfully erotic. That was another reason Riff always pretended to be asleep during these nocturnal encounters. And on that subject, it was a damn good thing that he always wore light trousers in bed, even in the heat of summer, otherwise the younger man might have got a bit of a shock by now. Cain's arm slipped across Riff's chest, hesitating and hovering over the skin occasionally as though he feared Riff would waken. The white-blond man had to swallow a groan as that wandering hand landed on his nipple. He had been attracted to Master Cain for quite a while now. As he had watched throughout the years, the tormented boy he had met when newly in the employ of Alexis Hargreaves had grown into a stunning (if equally tormented) young man, and Riff wasn't blind. But nor was he a fool, so while he was fully cognisant of what was in front of him he would never reach out to take it. Cain had enough scars on his soul, and he did not need any more. Especially not from a person he was supposed to trust. But at times like these. . . . Riff's eyes remained resolutely shut and his body completely relaxed (except for one particular area that would damn well start listening to him one day) as Cain shifted minutely at his side, making himself comfortable. His hand rubbed lightly against Riff's nipple as he moved, and the peak hardened in response to the touch. Cain froze at the change, and Riff groaned silently to himself, torn between wishing himself firmly asleep and wanting to stay awake to feel this for as long as he could. Then, very cautiously, Cain poked his nipple. The light jab tickled just a little, although Riff would have died before admitting it. He would have died before making any sort of sound or movement at all, especially as his beautiful Master Cain ran the tips of his fingers over the taut bud, rubbing the skin and pulling gently. Riff heard the change in his breathing before he could stop it, and tensed involuntarily. And that gave exactly the opposite effect to what he wanted - Cain froze again, fingers stilling as his body went rigid. Riff knew he'd given himself away, but quickly decided on a course of action. If he pretended to still be asleep, Cain would recognise it for the escape it was and remain silent as well. And then the Count would know that he didn't mind these nocturnal visits, so perhaps Cain's pride would not be allowed to overrule his need for someone to be there the next time the nightmares came. Then, very quietly, Cain spoke. "Riff?" I'm asleep, Riff thought loudly at him. I'm asleep, and you're going to believe me, and then we'll going on acting like this never happened and everything will be fine. You can have someone to hold you when the nightmares get too bad, and I can . . . I can be the one to hold you. Then Cain sighed and shifted against Riff, not even bothering to move slowly any more. "I know you're awake," he said, leaning over the other man. Wonderful. The white-blond man sighed and opened his eyes. The only light came from the moon, filtering in through gaps in the curtains. It glinted off Cain's eyes and highlighted the curve of his shoulder while shrouding the rest in darkness, and somehow . . . seeing Cain like that was almost too intimate. As though he had a right to be here, in a bed with his Master in the middle of the night. In a way, that was painful. Perhaps something showed on his face, because Cain suddenly seemed to deflate as he sighed. "I apologise. I'll leave you to your rest," he muttered, and began easing off the bed. He stopped suddenly, looking back at Riff with eyes bleached by the moon to a pale grey, and the man realised he had involuntarily reached out to grab Cain's arm. His first reaction was to let go instantly, apologising for the impudence. But something in him rebelled at the conditioned reaction, and, swallowing hard, he kept hold of Cain's slim arm. Licking his dry lips, he said, "You don't have to leave." Cain stared at him mutely. Then abruptly he seemed to come to a decision and lunged forward, clumsily finding Riff's lips in the darkness of the room. Riff sat up as he wrapped him tightly in his arms, one hand sliding to the fine chin so he could reposition their mouths into a position where their chins and noses weren't knocked together so painfully. Cain's kisses were hot, desperate, and meltingly sweet. Riff found himself plundering the other man's mouth with a passionate intensity, unable and unwilling to stop in his desire for the other man. Cain's arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue met Riff's, shivering as he pressed himself against the other man's strong body. Cain wore no trousers with his nightshirt, his bare legs straddling Riff's hips, and his arousal rubbed against the larger man's stomach as he writhed on Riff's lap. Riff could hardly believe this was happening. Cain was squirming against him, clumsy and desperate in his desire, moaning into his mouth and tipping his head back as Riff kissed him harder, deeper. He slid his hand down Cain's slender body, caressing the skin through the thin linen cloth and muffling the dark-haired boy's moans with his kisses. Cain gasped and shivered convulsively in his arms as he slipped his hand over the firm, bare flesh of his thigh, slowly moving upwards under the nightshirt. Cain's skin was smooth and hot under his hand. He'd touched his Master before, many times, but had never allowed himself to linger on how it felt under his fingertips, how much he would have liked to run his hands all over the boy's body and make him scream. Now Cain was arching into his touch, tearing his mouth away from their kisses to gasp for air, his head thrown back as his hands clutched Riff's shoulders as though they were the last solid thing in the world. Riff latched onto the other man's neck, sucking and biting gently on the skin. "Riff," Cain moaned as his hips thrust against the larger man, crying out as he nipped his way along the fine column. Riff was suddenly consumed with a desire to have Cain naked against him, now. Realising what he was doing as he pulled the cloth up, Cain's arms left his shoulders and pulled the shirt over his head, throwing it into the darkness of the room. The blond man pressed his face into the hollow of Cain's neck, moaning as the boy's hands skimmed lightly down his back, pressing hesitantly against him before gaining more confidence and exploring further. Riff's hands went to Cain's buttocks, grasping them firmly as he pulled the other man against him. Kissing his way up Cain's neck, he reclaimed that delicious mouth and slid his tongue between the parted lips, feeling as though he was trying to devour the boy from the mouth down. Cain clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin as he responded, kissing Riff as though his life depended on it. The larger man caught Cain in his arms and flipped them suddenly, pressing the slighter boy into the bed. Tongue exploring Cain's mouth, he reached down with one hand to undo his trousers, shimmying out of them faster than ever before. Releasing Cain's lips to suckle on his neck once more, Riff settled between the slighter man's legs, relishing the gasping moan that fell from his Count's lips as their arousals came into contact. God, he would never get enough of that sound. He shifted slightly, rubbing his belly along Cain's erection as he moved down to mouth the man's taut nipples. Cain's fingers tangled in his hair as he gasped, legs wrapping around the older man's waist, his moans gradually forming into words. "Riff! Oh God, Riff. . . ." Riff bit down none-too-gently at hearing his name on the man's lips, groaning into the skin. His hand snaked between their bodies and grasped Cain's silky, hot shaft in his fist, pulling an incoherent yell from the man as he thrust up into Riff's grip. Cain's grip tightened on his hair and Riff found himself yanked up to face the Count. He was entranced by the vision that greeted him, almost moaning out loud at the sight of flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips that were all caused by him. "Riff," Cain groaned as that hand continued to pump the erection in its grip, his eyes closing, "God, fuck me, please Riff!" "Are you sure?" the white-blond man almost didn't recognise his voice, grown rough and husky from the passion he felt at Cain asking - no, begging - him to be fucked. This beautiful, sensual young man who he wanted more than any other, begging for him. "Of course I'm sure! Please, Riff. . . ." Riff didn't need any more encouragement. Cain bit his shoulder as he released his grip on the younger man's erection, scrabbling over the set of drawers beside his bed before finally pulling out what he needed. Kissing the bruise marks he'd left on the fine, pale neck as he fumbled the jar open, coating his fingers before slipping them down between Cain's buttocks. Cain moaned and rocked against him as he pressed the tip of one finger into his hole, surprised to find the boy hadn't tensed at the intrusion at all. Cain's hands wandered frantically over his torso as he pressed the finger deeper inside, working it in and out before adding a second. The smaller man arched and writhed under him as he twisted the digits inside, crying out loudly as he pressed against a particular spot deep inside him. When Cain was thrusting back onto his fingers, a string of moans and cries coming from his lips, Riff removed his fingers and coated his aching erection with the stuff from the jar. Sitting back onto his heels, Riff stared down at Cain. Slim chest heaving, he lay with his legs spread wantonly, cock standing up proudly at their junction. His neck was bruised, teeth marks deeply embedded around one nipple, his mouth open as he panted for air. "Beautiful," Riff breathed, and was rewarded by the barest hint of a smile on those kiss-bruised lips. He grasped Cain's hips firmly, lifting them up as he positioned the tip of his erection at his Count's - his lover's - entrance. Groaning, he sank into the heated flesh, watching Cain as he gasped, head thrown back and fingers clutching the bed sheets fiercely. Riff waited a few moments for Cain to adjust to the feeling, and then he could restrain himself no longer and began to thrust. Gently at first, the simple feeling of being surrounded by Cain soon undid him, his cock plunging unrestrained into the body of the man he'd been taunted with for so long even as Cain lurched up against him, hands gripping his buttocks to pull him in deeper, harder. Riff fell forward against him, resting his weight on his arms as the bed creaked in time to their thrusts. Cain was chanting his name over and over, his hips grinding up against Riff's. The heat surrounding his erection was exquisite, the silken walls gripping and pulling him in as he pounded Cain relentlessly, over and over. As he felt himself nearing the edge, he reached down and grasped Cain's cock, as beautifully made as the rest of him, pumping it to bring him over the edge as well. Cain bit his shoulder when he came, muffling his scream into the flesh as his channel tightened vice-like around Riff. The blond man thrust helplessly into Cain a few more times before he came in an explosion of white light. Panting, he collapsed against Cain, trying to get his breath (not to mention sense of direction) back. Cain's hands slipped from his buttocks to twine into his hair, petting him absently. Eventually Riff realised he must be rather heavy for Cain to be bearing all of his weight, and tried to move off him to the side. As soon as he stirred, however, the arms tightened around his neck and Cain murmured, "Don't." Riff stilled, then said, "I'm heavy. I should move." "I don't want you to." "Master Cain-" "You just fucked me. Don't call me 'Master'." Riff had to hide a smile at the irritated tone of voice. But still, he continued on, "I really should-" "Riff," Cain interrupted, voice gone soft, "don't. I . . . I was hoping for a while that this might happen, so you would chase away the nightmares like you chase away everything else. Let me have this," he begged quietly. Riff suddenly understood Cain's fierce passion only moments before. If he threw himself wholeheartedly into an activity that would take up his mind as well as his body, he would feel a moment's peace. It might only be a moment, but in the tortured world of this wonderful young man, a moment was often more than he could get. And now, once it was all over, he wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could. Riff could not blame him for that. "Take as long as you want . . . Cain," he said quietly, and felt Cain smile against his neck. "Thank you."

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