"Never," he said, defeat spreading through him as the vampire moved him exactly where he wanted him. He lingered stretched out there, unable to do anything but kiss back for fear that not might somehow make this worse for him.
He let out a low, wrecked moan. He didn't want it to feel good. He wanted it to be anything but. He wanted the moment when the elder man actually touched him to serve as a kind of contact salt peter or something. Instead he found himself tucked against him, tearful and trembling as his body continued to betray him. "Mitchell," he gasped, finally giving up his Master's name though it came like a prayer on the wind, like somehow a name alone might get his love to break through the door and get him out of this. Instead, what would probably happen was that Mitchell would find out and his lovely, hopeful Irish vampire would hate him for it. He'd thought Heaven had blessed him by sending his path and Mitchell's intersecting, but now it seemed like he only had a brief moment of true happiness so that it might be taken from him so he could hurt anew. Surely Mitchell would cast him aside for this. He'd heard the stories of what happened to humans who betrayed their Masters over the course of thousands of years. This would be no different.