FIC: To Get What You Want [NC-17, 1/1]

Title: To Get What You Want
Author [info]dmitchell1985
Fandom: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
Pairing: Abraham Lincoln/Henry Sturges, mostly one-side.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks/Enticements Urolagnia - sexual excitement associated with the sight or thought of urine or urination. No watersports. Sorry! Perv-Henry, but that is to be expected, he tells you so himself in the novel. XD (PG, 76; Lines 12 & 13) Some angst. Sexual thoughts about and from an under-aged person. Abe is 16 at this point in the novel.
Summary: Henry is old enough to know that you cannot always get what you want. Sometimes, the next best thing will have to do.
Word Count: 1,358
Disclaimer: I don’t own any part of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.
Author’s Notes: Fandom, I’m going to have to ask you forgive me. (Yes, all 10 of you. :p) This got long and Henry turned out to be a perv, so here we are with kink-ish fic. I’m as surprised as you are. This is un-beta’d, so con crit would be greatly appreciated. I haven’t written fic in years or any sort of erotica in that time as well. Any helpful advice would be heavenly. This was written for MMoM on LJ.



Henry’s hands shook minutely with longing as he turned his face away from the sight before him. He had already imposed on the boy’s modesty quite thoroughly to treat his wounds and nothing within himself would allow him to go any further. He knew that it wouldn’t take much, merely a slight tilt of his head, and the boy would never know he was being watched. But Henry also knew it wouldn’t be right or fair to indulge himself, given that his captive was left with little choice but to relieve himself in the glass jar Henry held between his slim thighs.

Guilt tore at him as he rationalized any excuse he could use to slant his eyes toward the sound of warm liquid filling the bottom of the jar. His nose was filled it, his palm warmed by it. And yet, he forced himself to close his eyes as he waited patiently.

Eventually, the sound of a dying trickle reached Henry’s keen ears and he carefully withdrew the jar. With his face still averted, Henry gingerly pressed in the stopper and set the jar on a nearby table. Using only his memory of the location of the cloth he sought, Henry straightened Abraham’s trousers, deliberately forcing stiff fingers away from the bit of flesh his fingers longed to graze the most.

Henry cleared his throat and finally allowed his gaze to rest upon Abraham’s face. He noted the embarrassed flush staining the young man’s face and the furious internal debate he seemed to be on the verge of losing to himself. The shame of what had just transpired was writ upon every inch of Abraham’s body and still, Henry could not help but be charmed by this fact. Despite himself, he had always had a penchant for innocents.

They were not yet jaded like those of his own kind or those women and men of a certain reputation. They were given to the most delicious sensitivity to the smallest of touches and the lightest of kisses. The gluttonously boorish part of Henry wanted to consume every gasp and plea he never failed to elicit with hands, tongue, and cock alone.

And in that moment, Henry was tempted.

Oh, how he was tempted to strike without warning, to tear and rip fabric from the prone body beside him. The boy’s injuries be damned! It would take no effort at all and the victory of his conquest would soothe even the savagest of beasts within his breast.

With the phantom scent of blood in his nostrils and the imagined taste of Abraham’s skin on his tongue, Henry excused himself to go empty the jar outside post-haste. He knew if he allowed himself even a moment more of the boy’s company, he would regrettably give in to the part of himself that he had long strived to master. He may not be able to help what he was, but he could master his condition and he could subdue his instincts.

Henry inhaled the night air, relishing the crisp scent of the oddly cool summer night. He listened as rodents moved underneath the nearby brush and discerned the predatory flap of the owls’ wings that tracked their movement. He smiled slightly. It was always the same - predator and prey and the need for every being on God’s green earth to survive.

Striding over to the nearest overhanging trees, Henry promptly unstopped the jar. He began to tilt the liquid out, but caught himself. He may not be able to have what his heart truly desired yet, but here he had the scent of the man, the very essence of him filtered down to that which his body could not use.

Henry, however, had need of it and its source very much.

Without further thought, Henry sank to a crouch and set the open jar to one side. He reached for the buttons on his trousers, deftly pulling each button from its nesting among the rough fabric. His fingers trembled as Henry briefly permitted himself to consider what he needed to do. There could be no turning back after the thing was done, but Henry couldn’t force himself to care. His path was set from the moment he happened upon Abraham under attack. There could be no saving him from himself.

With the buttons of his trousers dispensed with, Henry smoothly pushed the fabric aside and took himself in hand. It had been just over a week since the last time he had done this, as he generally preferred to lie with a partner, but the urge to bring himself off to release cut along his spine to tingle over his skin.

He held himself for a non-existent heartbeat more before he began to slide his palm up and down the length of his cock. Sighing in relief, Henry twisted his wrist as his hand picked out the familiar rhythm he knew all too well. He shuddered lightly as his fingers skimmed along the thick vein that underlined his cock to gently outline the flushed head with his index finger.

Pre-come slicked his fingertips as he traced the slit before moving back to palm the length of his cock. Henry closed his eyes and lost himself in the comfort of his hand, in the sure stroke that dragged him closer to the edge. Small sighs of pleasure escaped him as he thrust faster into his palm and he felt his cold blood run warm.

The low burn of his impending orgasm spread over his flesh and the chilly night air ruffled his hair. Caught on the breeze was the scent of the forgotten contents of the glass jar. Henry’s hand stilled momentarily as he leaned over and plucked the jar from its resting place. Inhaling automatically, Henry closed his eyes once more as the scent of pheromones washed over him.

Unbidden, his hand sped its pace, leaving the slap, slap, slap of his flesh against flesh to echo on the empty air. The desperate moans of anguished ecstasy filled his ears as Henry’s orgasm shot through him, coating his hand in sticky white. A drawn out sigh of contentment followed and Henry slumped towards the ground.

Jar still in hand.

Come still on his fingers.

The blackness of climax swallowing him whole.

After a spell, Henry’s consciousness slowly crept back to him. He dutifully emptied the jar and licked his hand clean before setting his clothing to rights. Having accomplished his self-appointed task, Henry strode back to the false house and descended the central staircase.

A bored Abraham Lincoln lay tied to his unwillingly borrowed bed looked up upon hearing Henry’s footsteps on the wooden steps.

"You were gone long enough," Abraham quipped, petulantly.

Henry said nothing for several seconds as he considered the irony of the boy’s statement. Most days, Abraham couldn’t abide even the smallest glimpse of his person, but each passing day brought forth unexpected comments such as this. For Abraham to wonder at his absence was a joyful milestone that Henry hoped meant they were making progress.

Yes. I needed some time alone to save you from me, Henry thought to himself

"Yes. I thought I would take an extra moment or two to enjoy the night air. Did you have need of something?" Henry inquired aloud, wholly expecting Abraham to revert back to silence once more.

Sighing as though put upon, Abraham mutely shook his head and turned his face to the wall.

Drawing closer to the bed and his customary oil lamp-lit seat, Henry immediately noticed the delicate blush of red spreading across Abraham’s face and neck. He could hear him inwardly berating himself for asking after one who had handled his body in a manner he considered un-gentleman-like, despite its necessity. He also heard the teeny voice of longing that sounded its frustration at not having received more before it was crushed underneath the waves of Abraham’s shame.

Suppressing a sigh, Henry asked, "Shall we pick up where we left off?" The Selected Works of William Shakespeare was already in his hands.

Silence was Henry’s only reply, but he had counted on nothing less.

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April 2015

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