Date: Fri, 18 Apr 2008 17:08:08 +0000 From: Guy Cornelius Subject: The Elemental chapter 3 AUTHORS NOTE: All the usual copyrights and disclaimers apply. You may not copy, reproduce or forward on this story without the express permission of the author. If it is not legal for you to be reading this where you are, please try to make sure that nobody catches you ;-p. Any feedback, positive or negative, would be greatly appreciated. My email address is listed at the end of the chapter. Chapter 3. "Marcus? What's going on? What's happened to you?" asked Tommy, his voice laced with concern and fear. Marcus walked over to where Tommy was laying, the flames disappearing from his eyes. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions for me right now. And I promise you I'll answer them all. But not here. We aren't safe right now, so you're just going to have to trust me." "Okay babe. But I'm holding you to that promise. This is some freaky shit, and I want answers," Tommy's voice was serious, but it couldn't hide a slight smile from playing across his lips. Marcus' heart swelled with pride for the man before him. It's not every day that you find someone able to see you turn into something resembling a fiery demon, then stick around to joke about it. "Just a quick question, though. Can you control when you turn into...The Elemental, was it? We might need that, out there," Tommy nodded toward the nearby door. They stood at the base of the stairwell, meters from a door that would lead them outside and, hopefully, to freedom. Unfortunately, they had no idea what stood in between them and that freedom. "I have no idea. I guess we will just have to wait and see...and hope." They made their way over to the door and Marcus peered outside. "Shit," he muttered. "What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing. Just twenty or so guards just standing there, waiting." Marcus frowned. Not good odds. "Crap! Now what?" Before Marcus could answer, a voice called out to them from outside. "We know you're in there," it said. "If you come out now and surrender, nobody has to get hurt...and by nobody, of course, I mean you." The speaker made no attempt to hide the sardonic chuckle that crept into his voice. Marcus turned to his lover and smiled, calmly. "Now we walk out there and have a nice chat." "Wha..." Before Tommy could finish his question, Marcus had already stepped out of the door, leaving no choice but to follow. Before them, about thirty meters away, stood twenty guards, in two rows of ten, all wielding batons. In front of them, looking very pleased with himself, was a rather short, exceptionally fat, greasy looking man. He wore the same uniform as all the other guards, but on his chest was a small star, signifying some sort of leadership role. "You little fella's have caused me quite some trouble," said the voice, now identified as belonging to the leader. He started to pacing up and down in front of his men. "You injured quite a few of my men in there. And I am going to be in a world of shit when the boss finds out that two subjects almost escaped!" He spat on the ground in disgust. "What's even worse is you're just a couple of pretty boys." "I would advise you to be careful what you say," Marcus said through gritted teeth. "You're really starting to piss me off." "Ooo, well I wouldn't want to do that now," the leader joked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What are you going to do, pretty boy? Slap me to death?" This last remark aroused a chuckle from some of the guards behind him, clearly pleasing him. "Oh, but you couldn't possibly do that. You might chip a nail!" he sneered, holding his hand out like he had done just that, and that it was the most terrible thing that could ever happen. "I am warning you. If you keep this up, you'll find yourself in a most uncomfortable position," Marcus warned him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Oh come on, what could you possibly do? You're just a couple of fucking queers. Unarmed fucking queers, for that matter." "Dirty fags," called one guard. "Poofs," called another. By now, all of the guards were laughing and calling out other vile slurs. Tommy could tell that Marcus' blood was boiling. He came and stood next to him and placed his hand on the nape of his neck. "Marcus," he said very calmly. "Yes, babe?" asked Marcus. "Aww, isn't that cute," the leader sneered. "Kill them. Kill them all, but spare that one," said Tommy, pointing to a guard on the far left who he noticed had remained completely silent up until now. "Yes babe," said Marcus, his voice completely emotionless and flat. A quick look of surprise crossed the leader's face, but it was quickly replaced by one of self-assuredness and amusement. "And just how the fuck are you going to accomplish that? There are twenty of us, and you don't have any weapons." "I wouldn't be so sure of that." Tommy stepped back from Marcus and gave him a quick slap on the ass. As soon as the slap connected, Marcus changed. However, this time his eyes remained the same, but his hair burst into flames. It wasn't like someone had just set his hair on fire though; his hair actually became flames, and they danced over his head like hair being blown about in the wind. Tommy was slightly taken aback by this turn of events, but not nearly as much as the guards. Marcus didn't utter a single word as he slowly started walking toward the guards. Eventually, when he was only about five meters away from them, one guard plucked up some courage and charged him. Before he could even raise his hand to strike Marcus, he received a fireball to the face, which sent him spinning to the ground, shrieking in pain. Marcus continued advancing toward the guards, who retreated before him. When he reached the prone, writhing form of the guard on the ground, Marcus kicked him hard in the face, breaking the man's neck instantly. "Who's next?" he challenged, his voice once again taking on the booming nature it had earlier. "Come on! Which one of you big, brave men is going to take on the little faggot? Hmm?" his booming voice took on a mocking tone. "You'll attack me when I'm supposedly defenceless, no problems. But as soon as I put up a fight? Look who's the cream puff now!" All the while he had been talking, he was still slowly advancing upon the guards. As he got closer, he could more clearly see the emotion on their faces. At first he thought it was anger, but now he realised it was sheer terror. Marcus was suddenly shocked to realise that these men were all completely terrified of him. But then he found that he just didn't care. Most of them probably had families, children even. But he was still quite prepared to beat them all to a bloody pulp. "Don't just stand there, you morons," screeched the leader from behind his men. "Get him...and his little boyfriend too!" With these five little words, the leader sealed the fate of both himself, and his men. An anger so intense, so desperate, unlike anything he had ever felt before, built up inside him, trying to find a way out; desperate to find the release that it so desired. "That was a stupid thing to say," Marcus said, his voice quiet and strained. "Oh fuck off! I've had enough of your bullshit," the leader called back. "Instant promotion for the man who kills the faggot." Suddenly the guards found new courage, as the possibility of promotion was dangled in front of them. As one, they surged forward, batons raised, each hoping to be the man that would land the killing blow. None of them, however, was going to be given that chance. With a roar, Marcus threw his head back and the flames on his head engulfed his entire body. He was completely aflame, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Before they even had time to blink, Marcus threw himself into the crowd of guards and was breaking legs, ribs, arms, noses; anything that would disarm and disable them. He was dodging and weaving at an almost inconceivable speed, avoiding every single swing the guards made at him. Within minutes, there were eighteen men at his burning feet. Some writhing around and groaning in pain, some ominously silent. The only men remaining standing was the leader, and the one guard Tommy had told him to spare. The latter was rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and quaking, some meters to Marcus' left. He heard footsteps behind him as Tommy picked his way through the bodies, to stand beside him. He gingerly reached out a hand and slowly brought it closer and closer to Marcus' arm until it was resting just below his shoulder. "Why does it not burn me?" Tommy asked, in wonderment. "You are a part of me. I could no more hurt you, than I could myself," the booming voice had taken on a soft, even sentimental edge as Marcus looked into Tommy's eyes. "Now is not the time for explanation. You will learn in due time. First we must deal with them." Marcus nodded his head toward the one remaining guard, and the leader. "You deal with him, I want to speak to the guard," said Tommy in a hushed voice. "Very well," replied Marcus, equally quietly. He then pointed to the guard, raised his voice and said: "You! Come here." The man didn't move; terror had him rooted to the spot. "You have no reason to fear me. My partner simply wishes to speak with you. I have much fatter fish to fry." He turned and made his way over to the leader, who quickly backed away. "You aren't quite so brave when you're alone, are you," he taunted, slowly closing the distance between them. "P...p...please don't h...h...hurt me, I was just f...f...following orders," the clearly frightened man stuttered, tripping over as he backed away. "Here, let me give you a hand up." He bent down, clasped the leader by the throat and lifted him to his feet with relative ease. The man grimaced in pain, not only from the pressure Marcus was exerting on his neck, but also because the burning his flaming hand caused. "You know, this all could have been avoided if you were just a little bit more polite. I tell you what. If you apologise to me now, I will let you go, and Tommy and I will leave. What do you say?" asked Marcus, his voice was deep and gravely, but had lost its booming quality in an attempt not to scare the man shitless. "Fuck...you...fag," he managed to gasp out, his hands uselessly clawing at the hand around his neck. "Now that was just rude," growled Marcus, batting the leaders hands away with his free hand. "Now, I am going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer them. Because if you don't, you will be turned into a smoking pile of ash at my feet. Do I make myself clear?" When the leader failed to answer, and simply looked up helplessly at Marcus, he shook him from side to side, emphasising each word as he shouted "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" "Yes, yes, perfectly clear," the leader managed to choke out as he was violently shaken from left to right. "Good," said Marcus, calming down a little. "Now, for starters, what is this place? And who runs it?" "I don't know, I swear. They don't tell us anything." "Not good enough," snarled Marcus, slightly increasing the temperature of his hand. "You had better try harder than that, otherwise it's going to get very hot around here." "Okay, okay. Look, all I know is that it is some kind of research facility, but I swear to you that I don't know what they're researching. The subjects go up to the seventh floor, and then we never see them again. If you're close enough, you can sometimes hear them screaming. But that's it." Marcus, recalling the information the woman from inside had given him, was relatively satisfied that he wasn't being lied to, but he still didn't have the information he wanted. "You still haven't answered my other question." "Huh...you didn't..." started the leader, only to have his words cut off by the squeezing around his neck. "Alright, alright," wheezed the leader, prompting Marcus to relinquish his grip a little. "I don't know who he is. Nobody has ever met him. If he needs to contact us, he calls us on a phone up in the office. I think his name is Alan, or Athur, or Alfred...something like that." "Aaron," said Marcus. It was more of a statement than a question. "Yes, that's it...do you know him?" "We have met once or twice in the past." If this man was telling the truth, then the Masters Council were up to some funny stuff, and he would need to get to the bottom of it, fast. Marcus was pulled out of his thoughts when he realised that the leader was still twittering on. "...can't believe you've met him! Nobody here..." The Leader's flow was halted as Marcus released his neck and let him fall to the floor at his feet. He turned and started walking towards Tommy, and the one remaining concious guard. "Sir?" "What is it?" Nathaniel snapped, irritably. "It's Master Aaron on line 2, for you." Grabbing the handset from the startled secretary, he glared at the man until he scuttled from the room. "What is it?" he almost shouted down the phone. "We have made a break-through, Nathaniel," Aaron chattered, clearly quite excited. "I have just heard from the Portsmouth lab that they have managed to create - and maintain - a link between subjects for two and a half minutes! Before they lapse into coma -" "TWO AND A HALF MINUTES? HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE MY PLANS THROUGH TO COMPLETION, WITH TWO AND A HALF MEASLY FUCKING MINUTES?" Clearly Nathaniel was not as excited by this news as Aaron had hoped he would be. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, before he carried on speaking, his tone somewhere near what would usually be described as friendly. The tone made Aaron break out in a cold sweat, however. "If you don't find a way of opening the link indefinitely, I will personally hunt you down and feed your face to the dogs. Okay?" "Y...yes Nathaniel," stammered Aaron. "AND WHILE YOU ARE AT IT, FIND OUT WHY THE ALARMS ARE GOING OFF AT THE GLASGOW LAB!" "Yes Master Nathaniel," breathed Aaron, before dropping the phone like it had suddenly grown large, poisonous fangs. "Surrounded by incompetence," muttered Nathaniel as he put the receiver back in its cradle. Tommy slowly approached the last, shell-shocked guard so as not to frighten him even more than he already was. When he was only a pace or two away, he stopped and saw that the guard looked no older than him. Probably no more than about twenty or twenty-one. His eyes were darting around, this way and that, looking at all his fallen comrades, some unconscious, some worse. However, the thing that drew his attention the most was the walking ball of flames that was currently shaking his commander around like a rag doll. Far from being alarmed by this, a small part of the guard was pleased by what he saw. "What's your name?" asked Tommy, calmly but with sufficient authority in his voice to draw the guard's attention. "Oliver," he replied quietly. "Well Oliver, I need to ask you a few...no, don't look at him. You need to concentrate on me, now," he said, waving his hand to draw Oliver's focus away from Marcus, and back to himself. "My friend and I need somewhere safe, to hole up for a little while. Probably only a night or so. Do you think you can help us with that?" Tommy knew he was taking an enormous risk putting even this small amount of trust in Oliver, but he seemed different to the others. He had been reticent to attack Marcus, and when the other guards were hurling insults at them, he could have sworn he saw him flinch at some of them. "I, er...I, um..." he stammered, his eyes drawn over to Marcus and the leader, forcing Tommy to once again drag his attention back to himself. "Oliver," snapped Tommy, "do not concern yourself with what's happening over there. I am the one you need to worry about right now." Oliver's eyes dropped as though bowing his head in obeisance, but Tommy realised that they were not going low enough to be meeting with the ground. Suddenly it struck him, and he almost laughed at the irony of it all. Despite the carnage surrounding them, Oliver was subtly trying to check him out. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. He dove his hands into his pockets, affecting an air of nonchalance, but in fact he was forcing the top of his trousers far down enough to reveal his bush of black pubic hair. "I said, do you know somewhere we can stay?" repeated Tommy. Oliver swallowed as he stared at the flesh Tommy was revealing. 'Bingo' thought Tommy, trying to hide a smile. "Er, yeah...you could, um...I live just on the outskirts of the city, a few miles away...you could stay there, if you like?" said Oliver, his wide eyes not once moving from the tantalising sight in front of him. At this point, Marcus walked up behind Tommy and overheard the last bit of the conversation. Seeing how Tommy was standing, he immediately worked out what was going on. He came right up behind Tommy, pressed his body against his, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Brrr, its bloomin' freezing without the flames on," he said in a cheery voice. "You don't mind if I slip my hands in here to keep them warm, do you, babe?" he asked sweetly, sliding his hands into the front of Tommy's trousers, only millimetres on either side of his cock. Oliver blushed a deep shade of crimson, and wrenched his eyes up from Tommy's crotch to Marcus' face. "If you want to follow me, my car is, um, over here," he said, nodding back over his shoulder. "Clearly a resident of Narnia," whispered Tommy. He started following Oliver, reluctantly letting Marcus' hands slide out from around his now hard and throbbing erection. Marcus stood looking puzzled for a second or two, and then burst out laughing; the reference to 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' suddenly making sense. He started following Tommy and Oliver, when he heard a soft, barely audible footstep behind him. He turned around and saw the leader creeping towards him, slowly drawing out a knife from a sheath in his boot. "You know, I was quite prepared to let you go. Allowing you to carry on living your life...but now I don't feel quite as inclined to do so," said Marcus, staring him straight in the eye. "DIE FAAAAAAAAAG!" yelled the leader, as he charged towards Marcus. Tommy and Oliver both spun around when they heard Marcus speak. Tommy was about to lunge forward to help Marcus, when he saw a bolt of lightening streak down from the sky and strike the ground a few metres in front of the leader. A second later, another bolt hit the ground just next to him. At this point, he was now only about ten meters away from Marcus, but Marcus didn't move a muscle. He simply kept staring into the leaders eyes. Just as he was about to get within striking range, a third bolt of lightening shot out of the sky and hit the leader directly in the chest, killing him instantly. Marcus watched as his body fell to the ground, and the smell of singed hair assaulted his nostrils. He turned round to face Tommy, shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess I need to work on my aim." About an hour later, Aaron took a few very deep breaths and then dialled the number for Nathaniel's office. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. As always, Nathaniel's secretary answered the phone. "Hello Ellen, its Aaron. May I speak to him please?" "I hope you have some good news Aaron, he is in a foul temper," warned the ever friendly Ellen. "Oh crap," muttered Aaron, eliciting a stifled giggle at the other end of the phone. "What is it?" asked a very grumpy sounding Nathaniel a few seconds later. "We have found out why the Glasgow alarms were going off, Sir. It would appear that the two special subjects we transported there yesterday, managed to break free, neutralise an entire squad of guards and escape. All within the last couple of hours," said Aaron quickly, hoping that if he said it quick enough, Nathaniel might not get too mad. He was wrong. Very wrong. He had to yank the receiver away from his ear, as a loud torrent of what could only just be identified as human speech erupted from it. He just about managed to identify the phrases 'incompetent fuck-wit', 'eat your own testicles', 'get up there', and 'find them', before the line went dead. Although he hadn't managed to catch all of what was said, he was fairly sure he got the general gist from the short conversation. Marcus and Tommy stepped out of Oliver's Jeep onto the pavement outside a small terraced house in a row of identical, small terraced houses. They all looked to be about later nineteenth century, but with some modern twists, such as double glazing and satellite dishes. Oliver led the way into the house, and ushered his two captors into a living room at the back of the house. Nobody had said a word since Marcus had killed the leader, but Tommy decided that it was about time he broke the silence. "Um, is there somewhere we could talk...in private?" he asked. "Er, yeah, sure. You can go upstairs to the spare room, I guess. Top of the stairs and turn left, its straight in front of you," mumbled Oliver, looking at the floor. "Thanks," said Marcus, grabbing Tommy's hand and leading the way. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he turned left and led the way into the bedroom. As he walked into the room, he released Tommy's hand and sat down on the bed, allowing Tommy the freedom to sit wherever he liked. The gesture was not lost on Tommy, who decided to sit next to, but a safe distance from, Marcus. He was still a little shocked by everything that he had seen, and in his head were a multitude of questions just waiting to be asked. But he remained silent, allowing Marcus to take the lead. "I am sure you have a lot of questions for me, but please hear me out before you ask them. If, once we are finished, you want to leave, I will understand." He looked up at Tommy, who simply stared back at him, waiting. When only silence greeted his ears, Marcus continued. "As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm a Wizard...or at least I think I am. I mean, I am a wizard, but I don't know if that is all I am. Oh, I am not making any sense at all. Let me start again," he said, becoming increasingly flustered. "Right. I'm a member of the British Guild of Wizards. Almost every country in the world has its own Guild, with its own rules, and its own skills. But the British Guild is the strongest, and most influential, in the world." A look of surprise flashed across Tommy's face, but he didn't say anything. Clearly, the thought of a global network of magic users was not something he was expecting. "Within the British Guild, the Wizards are spilt up into levels, from one to ten. One being the strongest, and ten the weakest. I'm level Seven, I think." "What do you mean, 'you think'?" "Well, up until a few days ago, I was just a run-of-the-mill level seven wizard, with very few duties with the Guild. My offensive abilities were somewhat weak, so I was never entered into the Battle Mage training. And my psychic and telekinetic abilities were, and I believe still are, non-existent. You see, all wizards have three main abilities: telekinetics, power of the psyche, and the ability to use balls of power for offensive or defensive purposes. I have never been any good at any of these, which, under normal circumstances, would mean that I would remain a level 10 for the rest of my life." "Normal circumstances?" queried Tommy, leaning towards Marcus, clearly enthralled by what he was hearing. "Yes," replied Marcus, becoming quite animated the more he talked. "You see, no wizard in any of the Guild records - and they go back many hundreds of years - has ever had even the smallest ability over the elements...except me. I've always had a somewhat weak ability to manipulate fire. But only fire. This is what elevated me to level seven. Had I been more proficient, I probably would have been made a higher level., But as my abilities were so weak, seven was as high as it was deemed I should go. Balkan has been training me..." "Who is Balkan?" interrupted Tommy. "Balkan the Instructor was one of the Guild Masters. I will get to them in a minute. Anyway, he had been training me in the use of my elemental abilities in the hopes, I thought, of making them stronger. As it turns out, the Council had him place bindings on my power to limit my advancement. On Saturday, Balkan died whilst removing these bindings." Tears welled up in Marcus' eyes as he said this, and Tommy quickly closed the gap between them, hugging Marcus to him. After a few minutes, Marcus composed himself and pulled away from Tommy's embrace. "Why did your Council make him bind your power?" asked Tommy. "It turns out that I am far stronger than I ever thought, as you have already witnessed. For some reason, the Council did not want me to come into my full power, so had Balkan bind me. Unfortunately, they didn't fully trust Balkan, who is the last surviving member of the previous Council. So placed safeguards on the bindings that would kill whoever lifted them. Before Balkan died, he was able to tell me that the Council are putting in place some plan or other, and that it could have disastrous consequences." "What kind of consequences?" "I don't know. I don't know if they will affect the non-magical community, or just the magical. I don't even know if the government know about the Guild, so I can't go to them. Even if they do, they might be involved somehow. All I know is that Nathaniel is up to something, and I have to stop him." "Who is Nathaniel?" asked Tommy, clearly a little confused by Marcus' piece-meal explanation. "Oh, right. Nathaniel is the current head of the Council, along with Damien, Darwin, Nicholas, and Aaron. They each have their own, unique ability, which is why they are on the council, but I won't get into that now. Strictly speaking, should the everyday members of the Guild find out about my new abilities, they would demand that I be placed on the Council. But I think that is best avoided. I'll be able to achieve more if I fly under the radar, so to speak." "So this Council, they rule your guild then?" asked Tommy, a frown of deep thought furrowing his brow. "Well, yes and no. They rule the every day sort of stuff. All the important decisions, like global diplomacy and all that sort of thing, have to go through the Guildmaster." "And who is he?" "Nobody knows," shrugged Marcus, "He has been in power for about 4o years, and he has gone to great length to ensure he remains anonymous. The only person who he has any contact with is Nathaniel. And even he has never actually met him face to face." "Why the anonymity? If he rules the strongest Guild in the world, that must make him the strongest and most important wizard in the world." "Who knows. Perhaps that, in itself, is the reason. Whatever the reason, I am just praying he is not a part of the Councils plot. Because if he is, I could be in real trouble!" Marcus laughed, more out of desperation than anything else, hoping beyond hope that Tommy wasn't about to run out of the room, screaming. The animation he'd displayed moments before, disappeared, and he stared at the floor. There was a slight creak as Tommy repositioned himself on the bed, and then Marcus felt a hand on his chin, pulling his face up and round so that he was staring Tommy in the face. Tommy smiled, and then leaned forward, brushing his lips against Marcus'. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. Marcus smiled and then returned his kiss, this time with much more passion, his tongue duelling with Tommy's. After a short while, Tommy broke the kiss and lay down on the bed, pulling Marcus down on top of him. They continued to kiss, as Marcus ground his hardening cock into Tommy's, while Tommy allowed his hands to roam around Marcus' back, and down to his boxer clad ass. Slowly he slid his hands under the elastic waist line, and started to push them down. "Tommy! We're in a stranger's house, in a stranger's bed...we shouldn't..." "I know," said Tommy with a sparkle in his eye. "But we're gonna." With that, he rolled them over so that he was lying on top of Marcus, and then pushed back onto his knees and pulled Marcus' single article of clothing off. With a smile, he leant down and took Marcus' now rock hard penis into his mouth, swishing his tongue across the head. Marcus hissed with pleasure and bucked his hips, pushing more of his dick into Tommy's warm, moist mouth. Tommy smiled to himself, and suddenly dove right down to the base of Marcus' shaft, causing him to yelp out with surprise and pleasure. He spent the next few minutes bobbing up and down on Marcus' shaft, massaging it with his tongue. Stopping occasionally to lavish his attention on his balls, causing Marcus to thrash about underneath him. Deciding that he could take no more of this, Marcus flipped Tommy over and, ripping off the trousers he was wearing, pushed his legs up into the air and dove onto his quivering hole. He flicked the tip of his tongue over the tight pink ring, causing it to twitch and eliciting a moan from Tommy. He continued to lick at the entrance to Tommy's ass, before thrusting his tongue into the hole. He continued to lick and kiss in and around Tommy's hole, eliciting louder and louder moans as the rimming continued. "Fuck me," whimpered Tommy. "Please, fuck me know." Marcus was only too happy to oblige and, lining up his spit slicked cock, dove right in until Tommy felt his balls being tickled by Marcus' pubic hair. Tommy groaned in pleasure, as Marcus slowly pulled out to the head and then dove back in again. He did this a number of times before settling in to a rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin the only accompaniment to their moans and groans. Tommy could feel that Marcus was close to orgasm, so clenched down on his cock with his ass every time he thrust in, releasing it again on the out stroke. It was only seconds before they were both panting in short, sharp breaths. Suddenly, they both bellowed out in pleasure as Marcus filled Tommy's ass with his cum who, in turn, splashed his own cum all over Marcus' chest and face. They were so caught up in their love-making, that neither of them noticed that Marcus' eyes were once again aglow...or that Tommy's were too. Well, thats chapter three. Sorry for the delay in getting this one out! I hope you enjoyed it and as usual, please send any feedback to . Special thanks must go to my fabulous author, Kane, without whom the story would be a mere shadow of its current state. Thanks again for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy :-).