And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt

[Xackrya Coyotl]

Xackrya yawned as he trudged down the path toward the little burrow that he called home. The centaur had been gracious in letting him live in the sanctuary as long as he made his home in the half cave. He had dug deep into the ground, carving out a small dwelling below the surface where he was safe from the blood eaters.

He had been on the job site all day, digging the three foot deep trench that would hold up the glass wall they were building for the city of New Vegas. He had his credits in his pocket and his sweat soaked shirt in his other. He was dead dog tired and just wanted to curl up in his burrow and sleep. It was safer to sleep in coyote form but for now he needed pockets and hands to carry his things. His bag of food smelled so good, he could not wait to tear into it. The Vampires may be douches about giving rations but when they gave you food for work, it was good food.

A sound came from behind him and he turned to look. He could have sworn he heard it but there was nothing there. "Aye dios, you are getting paranoid senor Coyotl." he muttered to himself. The markings on his back stung slightly and he looked up at the sky. Suddenly a little creature that looked like a small child made of bark skipped out of the foliage and hugged his leg. "Good evening little dryad, I did not realize I had reached the great oak or I would have stopped to say hello." The language he was speaking was not English but his own Mayan language from centuries ago. It didn't matter, the little creature never spoke but seemed to understand him. He looked up at the sky

Xackrya reached in his bag and pulled out a sweet treat. He handed it to the little wood nymph who gratefully took it and ran off with a wave. Xack smiled, "Good bye my friend, until next time." With that he continued on to his burrow where he quickly unloaded his belongings into a hole under a rock then sat down to eat his supper. He was so hungry, he barely tasted the delicious food. By the time he finished he was so sleepy, all he wanted to do was sleep. But he had to wash his shirt. It was the only one he had. He grunted as his sore muscles protested at his getting up. He yawned and stretched then began moving down the path to the lake with his tanktop in his hand.

Xack knelt at the edge of the lake and dunked his shirt into the water. It felt so good on his hands, he ended up plunging his arms deep into the water. He rubbed the material together then dunked it again before removing it and wringing it out. He carefully hung it on the branch of a nearby tree. The moon glistened on the surface of the water, calling him into the coolness of the night blackened water. He needed to wash the rest of his clothes anyway. He sat down on the ground and pulled his boots off his sore feet then peeled off his socks, revealing sore and reddened feet. The blisters on them could heal by morning but for now they were painful and swollen, some were popped and let pink tinges of color on his socks. The water was going to feel so good.

Next to be removed were his trousers. They were caked with mud and soaked with perspiration so they were difficult to remove. His muscles bulged and strained as he struggled to get them off. With no underpants to his name, he now stood buck naked with the moonlight glistening on his perspiration beaded skin. His uncut cock hung long and limp between his well muscles legs. He half walked, half limped into the water with his trousers and socks in his hands. He went about washing them first to get his business out of the way. Once he was finished he left the water to hang them in the tree near his shirt.

He returned to the water, stretching his arms against the pain in his back. He grimaced as each movement caused his muscles to jerk and quiver. Once he was waist deep in the water, he dunked his body down under the cool liquid and groaned at the relief he felt on his stinging skin. It didn't matter if the sun beat on it all day or if he kept is carefully covered, by the end of the day, it was like having stone thorns embedded in the lines of the markings. One a full moon, the pain was unbearable and he had to spend the day before and the day after in his coyote form to keep from going mad.

His swim was short lived as he felt extreme fatigue coming on him with his belly full and his body clean. He was ready to sleep. He climbed out of the water and headed for his clothing so he could hang them closer to home. What he found caused him to laugh. His clothing was gone. "You little tricksters!" he called out, convinced it was the elven and faerie children playing a trick on him, "I want those back, clean and dry by morning." he called out and then laughed. The problem was, something felt wrong. He felt eyes on him. He was just too tired to know if he was just being paranoid, he probably was.

Xack was walking easier now, his blisters were mostly scabbed over and well on their way to being healed. The angry red of his markings had faded to a dull pink and he was so tired he could have laid down where he was and fallen asleep. As his burrow came into sight, he felt that uneasy feeling again. He turned and looked down the path. Seeing nothing, he laughed at himself, "You are getting paranoid, Senor Coyotl." he scolded himself. He turned and crawled into his little burrow and onto his little makeshift bed. He pulled his pillow under his head, took a deep breath and instantly fell asleep...

[Necalli Meztli]

Dusk had been a long time in coming but finally the Nevada sun dropped below the rocky desert horizon and Necalli was free to pursue his obsession. He wiped away a trickle of blood from his nose as the leaden paralysis lifted from his limbs; he had not slept well since arriving in New Vegas, his body fell to the curse of the sun but his mind was plagued by endless cycling thoughts and calculations. Waiting was not his strong suit but the timing had to be right, the stars must be favourable, it had to be tonight...

He had prepared himself carefully for the sacred hunt, first bathing the dirt of the city from his body then working the traditional oil he had painstakingly procured into his skin, massaging it into every taut muscle until they glistened and rippled as he flexed. With strong, dexterous fingers he worked it over every inch of his body and into every fold and crevice before he was satisfied. The excitement was building in the core of him and it stirred his manhood to embrace his truest nature once again.

A loincloth made from the skin of a jaguar he had slain himself in his fifteenth year was all the clothing he required tonight. A belt trimmed with feathers of an eagle was at his waist, the razor edged obsidian blade that rarely left his side hung from it though he prayed he would not need it for that could only mean he had failed. Adorned with jewellery of jade and with rings in his ears for he had been of high rank amongst his people, it was as if the last half millennia had slipped away. Piercing his thumb with the tip of his fang he smeared a drop of blood onto a tiny statue of the hunting god; sacrifice had been made, the hunt was begun.

With the uncanny speed of the vampire kind he sped through the city streets, no more than a blur or a rush of air to those he passed as he made for the hunting ground, Thor's sacred sanctuary. The ancient vampire had laid dire geas upon him with the conditions for his hunt, requiring the most solemn of oaths upon his honour and soul and every god he revered for this one night. He could not afford to fail. Entering the sanctuary he took to the trees; thousands of years of human evolution told man that he did not need to look upward for threats. Cal found a perch and waited...

Meztli, his namesake the moon, was high overhead, bright and waxing and he felt the eyes of the moon god upon him as he waited for the child of Huehuecoyotl, unsure as to whether either god condoned or condemned what he was here to do or how he must do it. None could take back by main force what Huehuecoyotl had stolen. Trickery was the god's bread and butter and a weapon that would turn in his hand should it be wielded against its master. To win what he sought Necalli would need to be strong yet honourable, clever yet honest; it was a daunting task.

When a man trudged wearily into the sanctuary, his body thick with the scent of human male and the tang of sweat, Cal was at first uncertain. True he had passed into the sanctuary unchallenged but was this footsore creature the messenger of a god? He risked moving closer, the supernatural movement of vampires allowing him to crawl along tree trunks and branches with a surety that would have made the great cats of old seethe with jealousy. Cal froze as the man suddenly stopped, peering behind him and muttering "Aye dios, you are getting paranoid señor Coyotl." before continuing on.

Cal's stomach lurched as the man turned his face upward to gaze at the moon. He was beautiful... If Cal had been breathing before he would not be now as those perfect features, outlined in the moonlight, would have stolen his breath away. Coyotl... It was a name fitting for the one he was seeking and when the ancient language rolled from his honeyed tongue the last of Cal's doubts were gone; he had found his prize, but now he had to win it. He shivered in anticipation, forcing himself again to patience. He could not act with one of Thor's blessed creatures at hand.

The coyotl was clearly exhausted, that would give Cal every advantage he could want. If he could catch him sleeping even... but the man was stubborn, hiding his possessions, eating his meal and just when Cal felt sure he would be ready to sleep he rose again and limped slowly to the lake; Cal could have snarled in frustration. Though when the man began to peel away his sweat encrusted clothing it was all Cal could do not to growl with another emotion entirely. His attention was riveted as inch by inch the flawless sculpted form of the man body was slowly and tauntingly revealed.

Cal felt again the lurching in his stomach as he gazed down on the coyotl who's full naked beauty was such that he might have been taken for the god Huehuecoyotl himself. His wet hair shone, bleached by the sun and washed by the moon, his skin a perfect sun-kissed gold, and there etched across his back, glowing in the moonlight, were the silver lines and curves of a time cycle. The coyotl wasn't just Huehuecoyotl's final clue to the location of the stolen calender, he was its keeper. Cal trembled at the presumption of his plan; he who had lead armies and conquered cities was now as nervous as an untried boy before his first battle.

Tearing his gaze from the bathing beauty for a fleeting moment he scrambled lower to snatch the wet clothing from where it had been hung and retreated with it further up the tree, depositing it out of view draped from a much higher branch before he returned to his voyeurism. There was a strong temptation to simply act now but Cal's acute senses occasionally caught hints of sounds or movements that were undoubtedly the sanctuary creatures moving about their nightly business and he could not risk them attempting to intervene. The coyotl's laughter was like bubbling water and Cal's desire grew yet more.

Just when Cal thought he could stand the waiting no more the man turned and headed back the way he had come, though he did pause yet again, turning and looking back along the path. Still he did not look up and so never caught sight of the pale green eyes that watched him intently from the tree branches. The marks upon the man's back were fading now and Cal knew that he had been correct that brute force alone would not wrest that secret from its keeper. He dropped silently to the ground as the coyotl disappeared into the concealed entrance of his burrow and once Cal heard the soft breath of sleep come over him, he entered the burrow himself.

((Damn your epicness – I didn't even make it through one post. You know where to find the rest... ))