Footie RPS Ficlet: Beelzebub (Arjen/Ronnie, R)
Beelzebub
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: Obviously this has never happened!
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Pairing: Arjen Robben/Cristiano Ronaldo
Summary: Prequel to ASMODEUS.
Demons always tell lies don't they?
Author's Note:
This is UNBETAED so there are most likely spelling mistakes, bad grammar and missing words.
For the 7_deadly_sins_ challenge (Prompt 2 - Gluttony).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
be·el·ze·bub
According to Peter Binsfeld, Beelzebub was the demon of GLUTTONY. In Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal" he's depicted as a fly.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A gentle breeze fanned over his face and he closed his eyes, for the first time Arjen actually wished he was smoking or drinking; either would probably be a balm on his nerves right now. What a fucked up evening that had been. The next time Cristiano could go alone and see who would drag his sorry, drunken ass home.
Arjen turned his head looking at the Portuguese’s sleeping form on the couch. Cristiano was still wearing his clothes, Arjen hadn’t bothered to undress him, and neither had he wanted him in their bed tonight. It would do Cristiano good to wake up there and hopefully he would even sprain his neck and be sore tomorrow. It should teach him, to get this wasted.
Running his hand through his hair, he looked up at the moonlit sky. And here he had thought that this short trip to Spain would change Cristiano’s recent behaviour. That the sun and warmth would raise his spirits and take his mind of things. It clearly hadn’t. True, they had spent a marvellous day at the beach, frolicking around and just enjoying each others presence. But then Cristiano had dragged him off to that stupid party and had paid more attention to the colourful cocktails than anything else.
What was it with Cristiano and getting drunk lately? Arjen had known that the Portuguese loved parties, women and drinks. They had even met each other at such a party but back then Cristiano hadn’t tried to drink himself into oblivion. A small smile played on his lips as he remembered how Cristiano had tried to chat him up in his broken English and how they had ended up in a hotel suit that night, fucking each other so hard that Arjen had the hell of a time to walk straight the next day.
It was nearly three months now that they were together and everything had been so perfect. Maybe that was why he just couldn’t understand what made Cristiano search refuge in alcohol.
Voices wafted up to him through the night, a couple fighting, the woman telling her lover just what she thought of him and Arjen smiled. She clearly wasn’t a happy camper and there would be someone else sleeping on the couch tonight not just Cristiano.
Arjen turned his head looking at Cristiano again and that was when he noticed it. There on the white wall, underneath one of the small lamps sat a large fly but it wasn’t just any fly. The body completely orange and Arjen would know should he step closer to inspect it, he would be able to see skulls on the wings.
A chill went through him, not now, that was the last thing he needed. Turning around, his fingers curled around the metal railing and he gritted his teeth. Of all the fucking moments why must it show up now?
There was a loud buzzing noise behind him and then the padding of footsteps could be heard.
“Ignoring me never helps, human.”
Arjen rolled his eyes, as if he hadn’t known that before. ”And that is new to me why?”
“Well, well, well, aren’t you a cranky fellow. Trouble in paradise?”
Sighing Arjen turned around and blinked.
“Like my outfit?”
Arjen snorted, the demon called Beelzebub, also known as the lord of the flies, loved everything orange but to see him standing there wearing the outfit of the national team of the Netherlands was mildly put, ridiculous.
“I didn’t know you fancied my country,” Arjen said mockingly.
“Aww, but I don’t. I just like the colour.” Beelzebub pulled on the shirt then stroked over it.
“Try the Ivory Coast the next time.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone should really teach you manners. That’s not how you treat someone who could snap you like a twig,” the demon said clucking his tongue.
“What do you want?” Arjen asked impatiently. “If you are here for Cristiano, forget it.”
Beelzebub frowned. “What ever makes you think that?”
Right on cue, Cristiano’s slurred voice could be heard from the hotel suite and Arjen hoped their talk hadn’t woken him up. A quick glance told him that wasn’t the case. The Portuguese was just talking in his sleep.
“Oh, I see, your boyfriend still likes a good drink. Hm, yeah, if he keeps that up I might get a chance to feed him some of my precious food when I get to meet him in that nice little warm place I call home.”
Arjen tapped his foot impatiently, demons never came for chit-chat, he had learned that very early on and Cristiano wasn’t even coming close to add gluttony to his sins.
“Alright, alright, I actually came to watch you two. You know, hear you make those little funny sounds while you are at it.” Beelzebub moved his hips back and forth to elaborate what he had been looking to find. “Too bad your lover is so wasted; he has a nice firm arse, I like to watch him move it.”
“Yeah, right, good to know. I’ll make sure to spray our bedrooms with fly killer in the future.”
“Oh, you hurt me so,” Beelzebub said, his lips forming a fake pout as he put his hand over the place where his heart should be. “I just wanted to be entertained by you two as long as it lasts which I assume won’t be for much longer. Your lover boy has a bad mentor, a very bad one. And the way I see it, he will be whisked away from you soon.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Arjen asked through his teeth.
This time Beelzebub snorted and shook his head. “Oh please, and here I was thinking the dark one had for once picked a clever boy. With all your knowledge about the other world you haven’t figured it out yet? Disappointing, very disappointing.”
“Stop playing tricks on me. I do not believe one fucking word.”
Beelzebub laughed, walked past him and hopped onto the railing, dangling his legs and smirking at him. “I think you do and eventually you might find out the truth. Doubt that you can do anything about it though. But it would be nice to see a little stir up down there. See you around, Arjen.”
The demon winked then let himself fall backwards over the railing and a moment later came charging up from the depths in the form of a fly. The insect circled around him one time and then flew off into the dark sky.
Shit, he really hadn’t needed that. It wasn’t true, he told himself. Demons always told lies, always tried to faze people or kill them. It was clear that Beelzebub was just setting him up. Cristiano and demons… not possible.
And then he remembered last week, when he had come home from training to find Cristiano on his couch, once more totally drunk. Cristiano had tried to tell him something, but it had been gibberish of English and Portuguese and Arjen hadn’t understood a word of it. No, that wasn’t true, he had understood something about hell and demons but at that time he had just thought that Cristiano had been the victim of some bad nightmare.
Was it really possible that the reason for Cristiano’s alcohol consume stemmed from trouble with demons? Arjen shook his head, no, that couldn’t be. Cristiano was catholic; he sure wouldn’t be involved with the other side. Still there was this nagging feeling now, that what if Beelzebub hadn’t lied, what if part of it was true?
Damn it, he hated it that Beelzebub was able to unsettle him like this. That the demon could shake his thoughts and beliefs by just dropping one ridiculous sentence. Shit, had he learned nothing? But the damage was done, the seed of disbelief planted and Arjen knew he wouldn’t be able to rest till he found out the truth.
Stepping inside he walked over to the couch and looked down at the sleeping Portuguese. “Looks like you get to sleep in bed after all.”
Hoisting Cristiano up and carrying him into the bedroom proved to be a tougher task than Arjen had thought it would be. How could someone looking so slim still weigh so much? Luckily he managed it, even without waking Cristiano in the process.
His fingers trembled slightly as he undressed Cristiano; the Portuguese mumbled and unconsciously helped him by lifting his hips as Arjen pulled the Armani jeans down. If the situation hadn’t been so serious Arjen would have laughed. “Looks like someone forgot to put on his underwear today.”
Arjen brushed the back of his left hand over Cristiano’s belly and to his surprise the Portuguese reached for his hand and placed it right over his soft cock. This time Arjen did chuckle. “And who called me a horny slut this morning?”
Cristiano mumbled something in Portuguese that didn’t sound like an approval as Arjen pulled his hand away. No, as much as he loved to do what Cristiano was suggesting in his drowsy drunken state, right now was not the moment for it, maybe later.
Arjen sat back on his heels, watching, waiting, it only took a couple of minutes till Cristiano started to snore softly again. He watched the Portuguese’s body relax as sleep claimed him once more.
Cristiano was beautiful, there was simply not other way to put it, and the urge to run his fingers over all that bronzed skin was nearly overwhelming him. Shaking his head, Arjen tried to get rid off the temptation and concentrate on the task at hand.
It would be easy, or it should be easy, if he could focus his thoughts on nothing but the spell. He remembered the words clearly, even though he never had to use incantation before.
Closing his eyes, Arjen held his hands out in front of him and said the words in a language that had never been intended to be spoken by humans. Again and again, he chanted the spell, making sure not to raise his voice, concentrating only on the energy flowing into his hands and bathing Cristiano skin in soft, golden light.
And then he slowly opened his eyes, looking down at the sleeping form of his lover, searching for the signs that should show if Cristiano had any relation to a demon… there was nothing.
Arjen released an audible sigh of relief, his hand coming to rest on Cristiano’s hip. And suddenly he felt a hot stab of pain under his palm and he snatched his hand back, cradling it against his chest and biting the inside of his cheek to not scream out in agony.
His eyes fell on Cristiano’s left hip, there where thigh and hip met sat the mark he had never hoped to find. It was a flaming red A, drawn in an intricate pattern that seemed to have no ending nor beginning.
Beelzebub hadn’t lied to him, Cristiano had been claimed by a demon, and Arjen knew who that A belonged to.
Why, oh why? Fury and sadness welled up inside of him. He wanted to shake Cristiano awake, demand to know how the Portuguese had gotten himself into this mess, what had possessed him to side with this demon.
Unconsciously Arjen balled his hand into fists, his nails digging deep into the palm of his hands, so deep that blood began to well up. He knew he could wake Cristiano but it would be useless. His lover wouldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him or he would die. It was one of the rules of an unholy alliance. Only the demon could grant this privilege and Arjen knew Cristiano’s demon was not one who liked his tales to be spread around.
Cristiano moved in his sleep, his hand rubbing over the spot at his hip and Arjen saw the mark vanish. He kept sitting there watching his lover, his mind in turmoil, recounting what he knew about this particular demon and he realized what Beelzebub had meant. Cristiano wasn’t here to stay… not with him, nor with anyone else. He was an instrument of seduction, a curse to couples and Arjen himself had been blinded by it, had been drawn to Cristiano and unable to resist.
“You cold, Amado?”
Cristiano’s drowsy voice startled him. Arjen wanted to scream at him to not use that endearing term. The Portuguese didn’t love him, he loved no one and would never be capable of ever feeling real love for anyone but himself, not as long as he was under the influence of the demon.
Frowning Cristiano sat up and flinched, his hands coming up to rub over his temples. Arjen just watched him, he didn’t feel sorry for Cristiano who probably had one hell of a headache. The realization that all of this, all he thought they had, was nothing but a farce hit him hard. It hurt, hurt him more than he was willing to accept.
“What’s wrong?”
Cristiano’s hands cradled Arjen’s face and their eyes met. Was this an act too? The worry that he saw in those dark eyes, had anything ever be real?
“Are you mad at me?”
Arjen kept silent, oh yes, he was mad, more than that. He was angry, furious, burning up from all the rage inside of him. But he didn’t let it show, he remembered that Cristiano was only an instrument that he only acted on orders. And what bothered Arjen the most was what had made the demon chose him as a victim. He needed answers, and Arjen was sure he would get them, but not now. Now was his time to act, to keep silent and go on like he had before.
“Arjen?”
Turning his head Arjen placed a soft kiss on the inside of Cristiano’s hand.
“I’m not mad, just worried,” he said, nuzzling Cristiano’s palm. “You shouldn’t drink so much.”
“I know, but it helps me. Makes me brave.”
“Brave?”
“I do not want to lose you.” Cristiano pulled him close and buried his face against Arjen’s throat. “I’m scared.”
Arjen grit his teeth, it was all lies. Don’t listen to his words, he is just telling you lies, Arjen tried to remind himself and then it hit him. Not even an hour ago he had thought the same thing about a demon. A demon who hadn’t lied but told him the truth, what if… what if Cristiano wasn’t lying either?
Drawing back he looked into the Portuguese face again, searched his eyes for any sign that this was an act. He couldn’t find anything in them, only worry and pain. It didn’t matter, he would find out soon enough.
“Go back to sleep. You don’t have to be scared, I’m not going anywhere.”
Arjen shed his clothes and lay down beside him. His arm came to rest over Cristiano’s hip and for a moment Arjen thought he could feel Cristiano’s skin throb underneath his arm, he tightened his hold.
Just before sleep claimed him, Arjen vowed that from tomorrow the hunt was on, and that he wouldn’t rest till he had found out what was real and what wasn’t, even if he knew that this meant going to hell and back again.
~ * ~ * ~ END ~ * ~ * ~
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: Obviously this has never happened!
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Pairing: Arjen Robben/Cristiano Ronaldo
Summary: Prequel to ASMODEUS.
Demons always tell lies don't they?
Author's Note:
This is UNBETAED so there are most likely spelling mistakes, bad grammar and missing words.
For the 7_deadly_sins_ challenge (Prompt 2 - Gluttony).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
be·el·ze·bub
According to Peter Binsfeld, Beelzebub was the demon of GLUTTONY. In Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal" he's depicted as a fly.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A gentle breeze fanned over his face and he closed his eyes, for the first time Arjen actually wished he was smoking or drinking; either would probably be a balm on his nerves right now. What a fucked up evening that had been. The next time Cristiano could go alone and see who would drag his sorry, drunken ass home.
Arjen turned his head looking at the Portuguese’s sleeping form on the couch. Cristiano was still wearing his clothes, Arjen hadn’t bothered to undress him, and neither had he wanted him in their bed tonight. It would do Cristiano good to wake up there and hopefully he would even sprain his neck and be sore tomorrow. It should teach him, to get this wasted.
Running his hand through his hair, he looked up at the moonlit sky. And here he had thought that this short trip to Spain would change Cristiano’s recent behaviour. That the sun and warmth would raise his spirits and take his mind of things. It clearly hadn’t. True, they had spent a marvellous day at the beach, frolicking around and just enjoying each others presence. But then Cristiano had dragged him off to that stupid party and had paid more attention to the colourful cocktails than anything else.
What was it with Cristiano and getting drunk lately? Arjen had known that the Portuguese loved parties, women and drinks. They had even met each other at such a party but back then Cristiano hadn’t tried to drink himself into oblivion. A small smile played on his lips as he remembered how Cristiano had tried to chat him up in his broken English and how they had ended up in a hotel suit that night, fucking each other so hard that Arjen had the hell of a time to walk straight the next day.
It was nearly three months now that they were together and everything had been so perfect. Maybe that was why he just couldn’t understand what made Cristiano search refuge in alcohol.
Voices wafted up to him through the night, a couple fighting, the woman telling her lover just what she thought of him and Arjen smiled. She clearly wasn’t a happy camper and there would be someone else sleeping on the couch tonight not just Cristiano.
Arjen turned his head looking at Cristiano again and that was when he noticed it. There on the white wall, underneath one of the small lamps sat a large fly but it wasn’t just any fly. The body completely orange and Arjen would know should he step closer to inspect it, he would be able to see skulls on the wings.
A chill went through him, not now, that was the last thing he needed. Turning around, his fingers curled around the metal railing and he gritted his teeth. Of all the fucking moments why must it show up now?
There was a loud buzzing noise behind him and then the padding of footsteps could be heard.
“Ignoring me never helps, human.”
Arjen rolled his eyes, as if he hadn’t known that before. ”And that is new to me why?”
“Well, well, well, aren’t you a cranky fellow. Trouble in paradise?”
Sighing Arjen turned around and blinked.
“Like my outfit?”
Arjen snorted, the demon called Beelzebub, also known as the lord of the flies, loved everything orange but to see him standing there wearing the outfit of the national team of the Netherlands was mildly put, ridiculous.
“I didn’t know you fancied my country,” Arjen said mockingly.
“Aww, but I don’t. I just like the colour.” Beelzebub pulled on the shirt then stroked over it.
“Try the Ivory Coast the next time.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone should really teach you manners. That’s not how you treat someone who could snap you like a twig,” the demon said clucking his tongue.
“What do you want?” Arjen asked impatiently. “If you are here for Cristiano, forget it.”
Beelzebub frowned. “What ever makes you think that?”
Right on cue, Cristiano’s slurred voice could be heard from the hotel suite and Arjen hoped their talk hadn’t woken him up. A quick glance told him that wasn’t the case. The Portuguese was just talking in his sleep.
“Oh, I see, your boyfriend still likes a good drink. Hm, yeah, if he keeps that up I might get a chance to feed him some of my precious food when I get to meet him in that nice little warm place I call home.”
Arjen tapped his foot impatiently, demons never came for chit-chat, he had learned that very early on and Cristiano wasn’t even coming close to add gluttony to his sins.
“Alright, alright, I actually came to watch you two. You know, hear you make those little funny sounds while you are at it.” Beelzebub moved his hips back and forth to elaborate what he had been looking to find. “Too bad your lover is so wasted; he has a nice firm arse, I like to watch him move it.”
“Yeah, right, good to know. I’ll make sure to spray our bedrooms with fly killer in the future.”
“Oh, you hurt me so,” Beelzebub said, his lips forming a fake pout as he put his hand over the place where his heart should be. “I just wanted to be entertained by you two as long as it lasts which I assume won’t be for much longer. Your lover boy has a bad mentor, a very bad one. And the way I see it, he will be whisked away from you soon.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Arjen asked through his teeth.
This time Beelzebub snorted and shook his head. “Oh please, and here I was thinking the dark one had for once picked a clever boy. With all your knowledge about the other world you haven’t figured it out yet? Disappointing, very disappointing.”
“Stop playing tricks on me. I do not believe one fucking word.”
Beelzebub laughed, walked past him and hopped onto the railing, dangling his legs and smirking at him. “I think you do and eventually you might find out the truth. Doubt that you can do anything about it though. But it would be nice to see a little stir up down there. See you around, Arjen.”
The demon winked then let himself fall backwards over the railing and a moment later came charging up from the depths in the form of a fly. The insect circled around him one time and then flew off into the dark sky.
Shit, he really hadn’t needed that. It wasn’t true, he told himself. Demons always told lies, always tried to faze people or kill them. It was clear that Beelzebub was just setting him up. Cristiano and demons… not possible.
And then he remembered last week, when he had come home from training to find Cristiano on his couch, once more totally drunk. Cristiano had tried to tell him something, but it had been gibberish of English and Portuguese and Arjen hadn’t understood a word of it. No, that wasn’t true, he had understood something about hell and demons but at that time he had just thought that Cristiano had been the victim of some bad nightmare.
Was it really possible that the reason for Cristiano’s alcohol consume stemmed from trouble with demons? Arjen shook his head, no, that couldn’t be. Cristiano was catholic; he sure wouldn’t be involved with the other side. Still there was this nagging feeling now, that what if Beelzebub hadn’t lied, what if part of it was true?
Damn it, he hated it that Beelzebub was able to unsettle him like this. That the demon could shake his thoughts and beliefs by just dropping one ridiculous sentence. Shit, had he learned nothing? But the damage was done, the seed of disbelief planted and Arjen knew he wouldn’t be able to rest till he found out the truth.
Stepping inside he walked over to the couch and looked down at the sleeping Portuguese. “Looks like you get to sleep in bed after all.”
Hoisting Cristiano up and carrying him into the bedroom proved to be a tougher task than Arjen had thought it would be. How could someone looking so slim still weigh so much? Luckily he managed it, even without waking Cristiano in the process.
His fingers trembled slightly as he undressed Cristiano; the Portuguese mumbled and unconsciously helped him by lifting his hips as Arjen pulled the Armani jeans down. If the situation hadn’t been so serious Arjen would have laughed. “Looks like someone forgot to put on his underwear today.”
Arjen brushed the back of his left hand over Cristiano’s belly and to his surprise the Portuguese reached for his hand and placed it right over his soft cock. This time Arjen did chuckle. “And who called me a horny slut this morning?”
Cristiano mumbled something in Portuguese that didn’t sound like an approval as Arjen pulled his hand away. No, as much as he loved to do what Cristiano was suggesting in his drowsy drunken state, right now was not the moment for it, maybe later.
Arjen sat back on his heels, watching, waiting, it only took a couple of minutes till Cristiano started to snore softly again. He watched the Portuguese’s body relax as sleep claimed him once more.
Cristiano was beautiful, there was simply not other way to put it, and the urge to run his fingers over all that bronzed skin was nearly overwhelming him. Shaking his head, Arjen tried to get rid off the temptation and concentrate on the task at hand.
It would be easy, or it should be easy, if he could focus his thoughts on nothing but the spell. He remembered the words clearly, even though he never had to use incantation before.
Closing his eyes, Arjen held his hands out in front of him and said the words in a language that had never been intended to be spoken by humans. Again and again, he chanted the spell, making sure not to raise his voice, concentrating only on the energy flowing into his hands and bathing Cristiano skin in soft, golden light.
And then he slowly opened his eyes, looking down at the sleeping form of his lover, searching for the signs that should show if Cristiano had any relation to a demon… there was nothing.
Arjen released an audible sigh of relief, his hand coming to rest on Cristiano’s hip. And suddenly he felt a hot stab of pain under his palm and he snatched his hand back, cradling it against his chest and biting the inside of his cheek to not scream out in agony.
His eyes fell on Cristiano’s left hip, there where thigh and hip met sat the mark he had never hoped to find. It was a flaming red A, drawn in an intricate pattern that seemed to have no ending nor beginning.
Beelzebub hadn’t lied to him, Cristiano had been claimed by a demon, and Arjen knew who that A belonged to.
Why, oh why? Fury and sadness welled up inside of him. He wanted to shake Cristiano awake, demand to know how the Portuguese had gotten himself into this mess, what had possessed him to side with this demon.
Unconsciously Arjen balled his hand into fists, his nails digging deep into the palm of his hands, so deep that blood began to well up. He knew he could wake Cristiano but it would be useless. His lover wouldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him or he would die. It was one of the rules of an unholy alliance. Only the demon could grant this privilege and Arjen knew Cristiano’s demon was not one who liked his tales to be spread around.
Cristiano moved in his sleep, his hand rubbing over the spot at his hip and Arjen saw the mark vanish. He kept sitting there watching his lover, his mind in turmoil, recounting what he knew about this particular demon and he realized what Beelzebub had meant. Cristiano wasn’t here to stay… not with him, nor with anyone else. He was an instrument of seduction, a curse to couples and Arjen himself had been blinded by it, had been drawn to Cristiano and unable to resist.
“You cold, Amado?”
Cristiano’s drowsy voice startled him. Arjen wanted to scream at him to not use that endearing term. The Portuguese didn’t love him, he loved no one and would never be capable of ever feeling real love for anyone but himself, not as long as he was under the influence of the demon.
Frowning Cristiano sat up and flinched, his hands coming up to rub over his temples. Arjen just watched him, he didn’t feel sorry for Cristiano who probably had one hell of a headache. The realization that all of this, all he thought they had, was nothing but a farce hit him hard. It hurt, hurt him more than he was willing to accept.
“What’s wrong?”
Cristiano’s hands cradled Arjen’s face and their eyes met. Was this an act too? The worry that he saw in those dark eyes, had anything ever be real?
“Are you mad at me?”
Arjen kept silent, oh yes, he was mad, more than that. He was angry, furious, burning up from all the rage inside of him. But he didn’t let it show, he remembered that Cristiano was only an instrument that he only acted on orders. And what bothered Arjen the most was what had made the demon chose him as a victim. He needed answers, and Arjen was sure he would get them, but not now. Now was his time to act, to keep silent and go on like he had before.
“Arjen?”
Turning his head Arjen placed a soft kiss on the inside of Cristiano’s hand.
“I’m not mad, just worried,” he said, nuzzling Cristiano’s palm. “You shouldn’t drink so much.”
“I know, but it helps me. Makes me brave.”
“Brave?”
“I do not want to lose you.” Cristiano pulled him close and buried his face against Arjen’s throat. “I’m scared.”
Arjen grit his teeth, it was all lies. Don’t listen to his words, he is just telling you lies, Arjen tried to remind himself and then it hit him. Not even an hour ago he had thought the same thing about a demon. A demon who hadn’t lied but told him the truth, what if… what if Cristiano wasn’t lying either?
Drawing back he looked into the Portuguese face again, searched his eyes for any sign that this was an act. He couldn’t find anything in them, only worry and pain. It didn’t matter, he would find out soon enough.
“Go back to sleep. You don’t have to be scared, I’m not going anywhere.”
Arjen shed his clothes and lay down beside him. His arm came to rest over Cristiano’s hip and for a moment Arjen thought he could feel Cristiano’s skin throb underneath his arm, he tightened his hold.
Just before sleep claimed him, Arjen vowed that from tomorrow the hunt was on, and that he wouldn’t rest till he had found out what was real and what wasn’t, even if he knew that this meant going to hell and back again.
~ * ~ * ~ END ~ * ~ * ~