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by Tsuru-san



Category: Underworld
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-06-05
Updated: 2004-06-05
Packaged: 2013-07-29 00:28:34
Rating: T
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1895038/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/531250/Tsuru-san
Summary: What really happened while Soren and Kraven were waiting for Lucian? (SorenKraven SLASH!)





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A/N: This is a slash story, meaning to guys together, etc., etc. If this bothers you kindly press the back button. Flame me if you must, but remember, I'm not forcing you to read this.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I don't own them. Don't sue.

* * *

It rained. . .well, actually, it -poured-. Rain was a common thing in Budapest not to mention Hungary in general. But in this darkened downtown section of the well-known city, no one particularly cared. The weather was ordinary, and at this late hour, the area's somewhat poorer inhabitants were attempting to sleep through the storm.

However, even though it wasn't new, this area of Budapest was far from run-down. It was merely old, albeit in a venerated sort of way. The streets were made of cobblestones instead of blacktop, the buildings were carved mostly of granite and held together by mortar rather than fashioned from concrete and plaster, and the tall arched structures were a throwback to their ominous yet decidedly Romanesque and Gothic styles of the middle ages.

In one of the many alleyways the looming buildings overshadowed, to figures kissed in the wet blackness. Kraven was leaning against the stonewall as Soren's lithe body moved against his. The janissary's hands skimming across what little of his leader's ivory skin that was exposed to the damp night air. Both nightwalkers were by now thoroughly drenched in water, but they didn't appear to mind. Indeed, both vampires kissed and caressed with a clingy almost desperate need.

Lucian was late again for their meeting. And it was the stress from waiting that had instigated the current position. Although nothing had ever been said, Kraven was surprised that those back at Ordoghaz had never gotten suspicious when he and Soren disappeared from the mansion grounds. While he was relieved that no one paid any mind to his occasionally absences, the regent's ego caused him to feel slightly put off that no one seemed really concerned about him. In truth, it was midnight, it was raining, and the troubles of the two immortals on a lonely night did not matter in the grand scheme of things.

Kraven kissed Soren's mouth hungrily as he ran his slim fingers through the vampire's short steel-gray hair and tried to banish his morbid thoughts. With the veil of ceaseless water droplets and the shroud of shadows in the alleyway, the blue-eyed regent could almost imagine the hands touching him belonged to a beautiful vampiress with hair that same length except instead of gray, it was a soft brown.

But only when he couldn't see Soren's face could he picture him as another. Only in the semi-darkness was he given the luxury of pretending his partner's deep chocolate eyes were Selene's sapphire ones. She wasn't interested in him though. . .she never had been. It was a blow to his pride and his groin every time he saw her—thought of her even!

Despite the fact that he knew he should, Kraven felt no guilt for his mental infidelity to Soren. He trusted his second-in-command with his life, and the older janissary, in return, adored him. It was no surprise that they became lovers.

Subconsciously, Kraven speculated that Soren knew how he regarded Selene, but the ex-death dealer never brought it up. Soren was a skilled lover and a loyal ally. . .he'd proven it time and again, yet at first, Kraven had worried over the other vampire's reliability in the conspiracy with Lucian, but by now the aristocratic regent had stopped caring. In fact, sometimes Kraven wondered if he truly felt much of anything besides ambition anymore. His senses were dull to the stonewall pressing into his back. Barely registering the rain soaking through his hand-tailored clothing. Unresponsive to the lips pressed against his, and just plain numb to everything else.

END


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