[info]dmitchell1985 wrote
on May 14th, 2012 at 04:18 pm

FIC: The Shape of Gratitude [NC-17, 1/1]

Title: The Shape of Gratitude also known as Dat axe!
Author [info]dmitchell1985
Fandom: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
Pairing: Abraham Lincoln/Henry Sturges
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Henry finds that the expression of one’s gratitude can take on the strangest manifestations.
Word Count: 1,381
Disclaimer: I don’t own any part of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.
Author’s Notes: The Abery muse was a true pain in the behind for this fic. It gladly handed over everything I needed except for the section right before the ending. So mean. Either way, I hope you enjoy the fic and it doesn’t read like it was the cursed demon fic that it was. As always, con crit is much appreciated. Written for MMoM on LJ.



Henry quietly settled himself on Abraham’s bed and shifted around until he’d created a tailored nest within the blankets and sheets. His eyes were fixed on his young protégé’s lean back as he left to go explore Henry’s library for must have been the fiftieth time. Henry smiled to himself, cautiously savoring the thought of their growing friendship, their growing trust. He knew they would eventually make it to this place, once he felt secure enough to stop lashing Abraham to his bed; however, he hadn’t imagined just how much he would enjoy the little victories that multiplied with each day.

More often than not, Henry could count on Abraham’s enthusiastic mind to ambush him with a veritable legion of questions. It was all Henry could do to keep up with the rush and snap of a spirited youth. It seemed as though it had been an age since he was that young, even though it was closer to a scant few centuries.

Henry let his eyes drift shut for a moment and he felt the tension seep from his body. He was endlessly overwound from the demand of being ever vigilant. There were far too few occasions when he felt safe enough to completely surrender to the comfort of his handcrafted surroundings. It wouldn’t do for him to be unprepared in the face of an unexpected attack, but his dedication had cost him love and serenity both.

He took an unnecessary, but soothing breath, and opened his eyes. His focus skipped about the room paying little mind to any particular object for long, merely delighting in the familiarity of his belongings and the happiness he felt upon seeing Abraham’s possessions settled among them. It was a subtle luxury that Henry felt he could gladly become accustomed to.

Eventually, Henry’s gaze landed upon the young man’s axe. His breath stilled at the sight of it. It was the one thing, outside of Abraham’s agile mind, that Henry knew would carry his friend safely down the path his life would take. One axe would be all that lay between Abraham’s very life and their cause’s absolute defeat. He was grateful for so simple a thing and rose to collect it to examine it closer.

Returning to the shelter of Abraham’s bed, Henry brought the axe to eye level. He scrutinized every inch of the weapon, noting the grooves worn into the aged wood by strong hands and the sharpness of the edge of its blade. It was a fine piece of equipment that was very much like Abraham himself. It wasn’t the most expensive axe that money could buy and it wasn’t brand new, but it was solid and dependable. If there was a job that needed doing, this axe would see it through.

Henry leisurely slid his hands over the curves of the handle, noting the lack of splitters anywhere along the length of the wood. It was a curious thing, the silkiness of the wood, so cool to the touch. Obviously, it had been well cared for and Henry couldn’t help but wonder at the fact. He couldn’t help but wonder at the further meanings he could divine from the reverence with which Abraham treated his possessions. How would he treat something not so inanimate?

The temptation that burned its way across Henry’s skin as his hands gripped the handle of Abraham’s axe was instantaneous and all consuming.

He couldn’t.

Not that. Not with Abraham’s axe or with the boy himself. It would be wrong and would undermine his strenuous efforts to build their friendship from the rubble of Abraham’s life. He swallowed thickly around the indecision that clawed at his throat.

He supposed that if Abraham didn’t know what he had done, there couldn’t be that much harm in the matter. However, he would know what he had done and he wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself for trespassing on the boy’s emerging good faith; small trespass that he considered it to be. Henry mentally wrestled with himself a moment longer before selecting the lesser of the two evils. Although he would not allow himself to approach Abraham in such a manner, he decided that his axe, while not in use, was fair game.

Henry licked his lips and set the axe on the floor, head-side down, as he listened for any telltale sounds of Abraham’s approach. The only answering commotion his ears could detect were the quiet sounds of Abraham flipping pages in the library. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be interrupted, Henry unbuttoned the joined fabric of his trousers and pulled himself free.

He lined himself up with the axe, measuring the concave curvature of the base of the axe with his cock. The chill of the wood a worthy foil to his heated flesh. Henry chuckled under his breath and clasped both palms vice tight around himself and the handle, temporarily marrying them together. With his hands in place, Henry gradually began to move.

He firmly guided the axe’s handle and his cock through the circle of his palms, squeezing the two together on every upward stroke. Henry inhaled through his teeth and his eyes slipped shut as his hips jerked forward. His head rolled back to rest upon his shoulders as he steadily thrust against the grain of the wood.

Groaning low in his throat, Henry reveled in the sensation of the glossy wood running along the length of his dick. The hints of friction where the varnish was worn through caught on his skin, making him shudder and pant oh-so-slightly. His hips rushed forward without guilt or restraint as they gleefully left their stunted staccato rhythm behind.

Henry could feel the warmth of his ascent towards release shimmer across his skin, mindlessly heating every part of him. His practiced breaths disintegrated into ragged, involuntary muscle spasms with every thrust of his cock through the hollow of his hands. His perfect rhythm faltered as the first wave of his orgasm obliterated all traces of higher brain functions to leave him moaning helplessly and furiously rutting against the handle of the axe.

Biting his lip to hush his cries, Henry shoved himself as deep as he could go between hands and wood and just let go. No guilt. No sin. Only the gut-wrenching euphoria of his release tearing its way free to spurt over the polished wood. Henry’s fingers knotted together as he milked the last of dregs of his pleasure from his body.

Huffing in grand relief, Henry opened his eyes to find a dumbstruck Abraham standing in the doorway, gaping soundlessly at him. His eyes moved to his beloved axe and then back to the hands that held it as though they owned it. His mouth opened and shut mutely, but the blush spreading over Abraham’s face and down his neck said everything he did not. Even the boy’s traitorous hands were already speaking volumes.

Henry froze and processed the scene before him as he mildly entertained the thought of panicking at not having heard the slightest sign of Abraham’s approach. Casting that line of thought aside, he saw the book he assumed he had heard Abraham flipping through what seemed to be hours ago abandoned to an end table beside the door way. In its absence, one of Abraham’s hands appeared to have slid down between the boy’s legs of its own volition to grasp and rub the hardness Henry knew he’d find there if he dared to cross the room. The other appeared to have sought out a pert nipple through the fabric of the boy’s shirt.

Instead of giving into the barest flicker of despair that brushed across the surface of Henry’s mind, he chose Option B. With his gaze leveled directly at the would-be hunter, Henry lifted the axe to drag his tongue through the cooling slickness that coated the handle and his own thumbs. His eyes registered the tremor of defeat that subtly ripped through Abraham’s young body and his mind.

Instinct reacted first and a wolfish grin crept over Henry’s lips. Fresh prey was often hard to overstep when the thought of what one could do with it tantalized the senses and blinded reason. Without his permission, his eyes only had one question for the boy, Are you next?



Author’s Note 2:

  • If anyone is wondering why I’ve had Henry lick his hand on more than one occasion, I based it off of real life guys saying they do this when they masturbate without a lubricate. They have said that clean up is easier and it got them accustomed to the taste of semen in preparation for later on interactions with other men.


  • lol @ the play on the Abery communities’ shared name


  • Idea for this formed on the way home from work yesterday and I realized after the fact that it was probably subconsciously inspired by the Abery ‘Dat axe’ meme. XD

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