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    ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

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    Tariq
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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Tariq on Sun Feb 21, 2016 5:40 pm

    Tariq lingered before the door that had thundered closed at his hand. His eyes shone like a diamond on a dead man’s hand. He did not interrupt the boy’s fear-choked reply, nor did he do anything to halt his retreat.

    There was little need to; there was nowhere to go. The cozy room was as efficient a prison as the walls of the Bastille.

    His laugh was like bones dragging over the stone of a grave, hoarse and rasping at the back of his throat. “Of course. I must take nature into account.”

    It was surely deliberate that his cutting smile bared the cruel slash of his eyeteeth for the first time. It was a sight fit to chill the blood-- the fangs of a wolf in the jaw of a man. They were too long, too thick, too pale, the gentleness of their curve doing little to cast doubt on their lethal purpose.

    The boy would not have long to contemplate it. His host had begun a slow advance, his pace warily keeping himself between his guest and the door.

    “What generous advice you give.” All traces of his prior fatigue had disappeared. The man was sharp as the edge of a knife, his voice a lazy purr. His eyes were half-concealed beneath his eyelids. “Regrettably, it makes little difference; you have already agreed to abide by the rules of my house.”

    He had closed half the distance to the boy but now he halted, swaying softly on the spot. Had the boy been in enough brawls he might recognize the motion as his muscles tensed with the thoughtless ease of a predatory cat.

    “And my rules dictate that if you take something from me, it is only fair I take something from you.”

    The last word was nearly a snarl as he lunged forward with startling speed. His cane clattered to the floor, discarded. His hands sought to curl about the boy’s bruised throat that his borrowed clothes did little to protect, pinning him with his body against the wall he had so kindly cornered himself against.

    Should he succeed, the boy would find his grip like iron bands around his neck, unyielding and indifferent to his struggling. Tariq pressed his cool body close. It was far too familiar, the possessive force he used to smother his protest.

    “It will be easier for you,” There was already a hot pant growing in his throat that fluttered in the soft suggestion. “If you do not fight me.”
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    Fabien

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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Fabien on Tue Feb 23, 2016 2:41 pm

    Fabien scoured every corner of the room for something he might put to use, an object which might aid his plight. Something with weight, like a candlestick, an iron poker, a book. But there was nothing, and he was left vulnerable and bereft. The entire room was a lie; a sanctuary of calm that that promised peace and recovery but was false and cruel. The boy raked his fingers viciously through his gleaming hair and continued his futile retreat, his eyes wide and unblinking.

    The monstrously deformed teeth were simply too much. If he had noticed the dreadful points, and truly started to absorb their meaning, he did not give voice to his thoughts. The gentleman’s behaviour had already transformed him into a demon in the boy’s mind, a danger.  His actions, in whatever form they might take, mercilessly drove white shards of terror deep into his skin. The boy’s breath had grown sharp in his chest, and he began to steer away, into a corner where he might work his way towards the door.

    “But I have nothing, I have-“he rasped weakly, with hands outstretched and expressive fingers gesturing helplessly into the empty air.

    A first the boy attempted to curl his arms about his chest protectively, and to cower. But as he watched his host begin to tense, blind panic compelled him to sprint forward. He managed to slip somewhat to the side, to steal a few frantic steps, before his host had collared and pinned him. His hand immediately lifted instinctively and sought to claw at the blind man’s wrist.

    The boy did as instructed, though whether it was through shock or obedience was hard to discern. But he did not squirm against the unrelenting grasp. Perhaps he had already been taught the ineffectiveness of struggle; his skin certainly was a testament to it.
    Instead entire body stiffened and grew still. Only his pulse was brutal, throbbing within the skin of his throat, and his ragged breath, distorted and agonised, as it trembled within the cage of his thin chest. A dull whimper of dismay rose up from somewhere beneath his heart, though it was stubbornly sealed beneath his gritted teeth. He could not give another the satisfaction of his misery. Too many had already received the pleasure.

    The boy’s dark eyes turned aside, and burned into the far wall. He refused to look into the blank, white gaze of his host, his mouth. He was too close now, much too close. The boy knew he would already be able feel him trembling against his chest.

    “You... tricked... me,” he managed to gasp. It would surely have been an anguished hiss, had not the boy’s misery transformed it into a soft sob. A few unhappy tears spilled onto the sharp rise of his cheekbone, where the purple shadow of a bruise still haunted his skin.
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    Tariq
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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Tariq on Thu Feb 25, 2016 1:52 pm

    Tariq shifted his grasp to quell the boy’s scrabbling, easily trapping his offending hand against the wall by the thin stem of his wrist. His other hand remained wrapped about his throat. The hollow between thumb and forefinger pressed cruelly into the ridge of his trachea, choking off most of his air.

    “Good boy,” he purred as the boy stiffened and fell still beneath his tyrannous hands. “What a waste it would be to break every one of your clever fingers.”

    His ruthless grip loosened to allow a slither of air to rattle into Fabien’s lungs. His hand remained a hard collar of dark skin about his neck.

    A rasp of black amusement chuckled up from his chest at the boy’s accusation. “Non,” he breathed, the effect of his faux indignation rather spoilt by the spidery glee scuttling through it. “I gave you everything I offered. Am I to blame that you were so eager to take more than was promised?” His teeth clicked in his mouth as they came together.

    He leaned forward. His breath was cool on the boy’s cheek. “You tricked me, Fabien. Or—“ he corrected, his ruined eyes sparkling wickedly. “You tried to.” The flat of his tongue licked the salty tears from the rise of his cheekbone in one long streak. His mouth was cold, his breath like copper coins. A fine shiver coiled down his long spine and his hand briefly grew tense.

    The hand that bound the boy’s wrist relinquished its grasp to snake down his forearm, fingers trailing over loose cloth and rangy limb. It ran up his shoulder and through his hair, still faintly damp and gleaming like phosphor in a display both striking and wholly useless to blind eyes. It did not linger long before his fingertips fell down his face, gently tracing the arch of the bone beneath his eye, the tense curve of his chin and the rise of his unhappy lips. The touch was possessive and firm in its exploration of the boy’s features. His moonlit eyes were a sharp crescent of white beneath dark eyelids.

    Apparently satisfied with what he found, the touch withdrew to his sternum, lilting fleetingly down his stomach, his waist. It came to a rest with sharp fingers pressed just under his breastbone as though to snatch the air from his lungs should he reignite his resistance to the man’s terrible, choking presence.

    Good,” he breathed. There was something taut in the word, something that gathered itself blackly on carrion-crow wings. “Very good.” He inclined his head until his lips grazed the boy’s jawline.

    “I am going to make you hurt now, boy.” The whisper quivered with affection hot enough to sear his skin like a lash. “Be still for me.”
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    Fabien

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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Fabien on Fri Feb 26, 2016 4:48 pm

    Despite his visible terror, Fabien did not soften. He did not struggle or thrash like an eel upon a line, but a certain tension ran through his body like wire. The muscles of his repositioned arm shivered like a tree branch as he pushed fiercely into the palm that held him with such quiet ease. There was a constant, unrelentingly pressure, as though he hoped the man might slip up and release him. This defiant strength was only sapped when he could no longer breathe.

    The boy choked softly against the hand that bound him, his limbs slackened with an awful lifelessness. The becoming ruddiness which heated water and rich food had painted into his flesh had begun to wane, to pale.

    “S'il te plait... arête.” He rasped weakly. His entire body seemed to incline forward, as though his knees sought to drag him down.

    The boy still refused to look upon his host, to meet his eye. He had no desire to watch the curling movement of his mocking lips, the lips that were now much to close. If he was upset by what he heard, he spoke nothing of it, not in protest nor defence. But there was a hard shiver that sparked its way through his upper body, and it quivered through each anxious breath parting his teeth. While his sharpness, his venom had been banished through fear, he had yet to be robbed entirely of his senses, nor his desire to placate.

    “You... have been very gracious... Monsieur.” The boy agreed softly, straining to form each word.

    The sensation of the gentleman’s tongue slipping across his skin caused his words to falter. He released a heavy, wincing breath before attempting to continue.

    “Very kind.” The word was snapped from beneath his teeth as though it were an insult. “And I did.... I did you wrong.”

    The severity of the urchin’s trembling increased when subjected to the exploratory movements of his host’s fingertips. His breath caught miserably as he felt those hands slip with wretched boldness across his flesh. Everything within him was suddenly screaming in protest. He began to writhe uncomfortably, to twist s under the blind man’s hold as though he hoped that he might slip free. He continued speaking softly, as though it was the only thing left to him, the only thing to inspire courage.

    “I made ... some misjudgements.”

    The boy’s chest rose fretfully as the hand slipped lower. Colour had begun to blossom across his cheeks, bestowing the pallid flesh with a renewed flush of life. Though now it was derived not from satisfaction, but from burning, awkward shame. His stomach muscles pulled in and flexed and he attempted to turn his hips aside, away from the trailing fingertips.

    “But you don’t... you don’t have to...”

    When he felt the blind man’s lips upon his skin, only then did his dark eyes finally flicker back. Wide and pleading, they were compelled to try and gain some sense of what the man meant to do, how he might be hurt.

    W-wait-” he whimpered sorrowfully.
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    Tariq
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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Tariq on Tue Mar 01, 2016 1:28 am

    Tariq’s lips trailed from the line of the boy’s jaw to the bruised hollow of his throat. The hand that bound his neck relaxed its cruel grasp. It slipped up to nudge his sharp chin aside. His mouth was eager for the access, lips hungry and hard enough to raise the dark petals of his own bruises in their wake. His breath had warmed but was still far too cool as it spilled across the tense architecture of his throat.

    The boy’s distressed writhing did little to deter the creep of brazen hands. It stirred the fingers that had come to a rest under his sternum into motion. They stole down the line of his stomach pulled tight with terror and slipped without hesitation beneath the borrowed cloth that bound his squirming hips. Long fingers, warmed like clay in the sun, tapped softly at the thatch of curls between his legs.

    To allow his hand to sink any lower would force him to surrender his lips from their eager tasting of his throat; perhaps it was this that spared the boy’s crumbling modesty from further encroachment.

    He responded to Fabien’s whimper with a groan into the sensitive skin of his neck. But he did not heed the request and wait – the boy would swiftly find the hard wood at his spine replaced with the yielding give of bedding as the hand around his neck tightened and he was jostled like a dog dragged by its scruff. His host pushed him to the bed and shadowed his fall. He forced his bony knees apart to settle between them, supporting his chest above the boy’s own with his arms on either side of his torso. Muscles moved under the skin with the sinuous strength of a serpent. The sash tied around his waist slithered between the boy’s legs in a flash of red.

    The bed was every bit as luxurious as it had looked to be. It was likely small comfort to the boy now pinned beneath the man breathing impatient hunger into his skin.

    He no longer had any words of dubious wisdom to offer. The last of his sharp-toothed warnings and cruel promises had been burned away, seared to ash as he nestled between the boy’s thighs. Wordlessly, he wrenched the boy’s chin aside, impatience licking like flames at every gesture. His mouth was sharp as he brought it to his throat, the scrape of his teeth apt to raise the hairs at the back of the boy’s neck.

    The boy would know what happened next only as pain. Terrible pain that seared white-hot from beneath the man’s mouth as his teeth, those wolf’s fangs, severed the flesh not in two neat holes but in twin gashes that brimmed rapidly with keen scarlet. The vampire – for surely that’s what he was, even if the wretched urchin did not have a name for this monster – did not allow the blood to fall in dark streaks down his neck. He sealed the wound with his ravenous mouth. It gushed hot over his tongue and his exhale was a groan, a tremor palpable in the hand on the boy’s jaw.

    Blood flowed freely, released from the boy’s veins like ichor from the gods. Tariq swallowed it, truly blind for the first time in the youth’s presence as he was consumed by his own voracious hunger and made insensible.

    The coins still in Fabien’s pocket rolled together. They clinked softly, their sad chime a reminder of what it was he traded the blood in his veins to possess.
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    Fabien

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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Fabien on Tue Mar 01, 2016 4:06 pm

    When the punishing grip around his throat grew lax, Fabien’s spine almost seemed to elongate, to rise up as if he was breaking the surface of a dark expanse of water. He drank from the air, sucking in shuddery mouthfuls while he still had the chance to do so freely. But it did nothing to quell the sensation of being smothered, of feeling entirely overwhelmed by the blind man’s presence, his lips on his skin. And his strange scent, which now was inescapable, he could almost taste it upon his lips. It was too much.

    The boy’s thin fingered hand flicked out as swiftly as a whip to snatch the man’s wrist. He was unable to halt the progress of his intrusive fingertips, but his fingernails were sure to sear across the dark flesh in angry, scalding lines. The forced departure from the wall was the only thing which prevented the boy from clawing at the man’s skin like a feral cat. His skin was still flushed with pained embarrassed by the time his spine met the soft embrace of the mattress. When he realised where he was, and what he assumed would follow, that same skin grew hot and damp.

    D-don’t,” he whimpered.

    It was such a small, gentle request. The softness of it caused a wave of irritation to tighten the muscles of his stomach, and clench through his jaw. He had wanted it to rise up from his lungs with power. He had wanted to make that one word forceful enough that it would force the man to hesitate.

    But instead, he found himself entangled within this stranger’s limbs. Found that he was being pressed by his firm weight into sheets as supple as a bridal bed. The urchin’s eyes were unable settle. They shivered nervously over the white veil of hair, before once again briefly contemplating the lean, scarred throat. And when he felt the man’s lips on his neck once more, sorrow shuddered through the length of his body.

    The boy glared up from beneath the smooth rise of his tormented brow, which was painted with damp curls of fine hair. The eyes that were fixated upon the blind man were as black and hateful as storm clouds, their feline shape lined by dark lashes which glimmered with tears.

    “I’ll n-not make it good for you.” He managed to rasp. It seemed as though this stubborn declaration might prove to be enough to halt the man’s intentions.

    His thighs were shivering against the side of the gentleman’s hips. He had tried to brace for pain, for discomfort, but not the type that he received.

    And so when the man’s cruel teeth punctured the skin of his throat, the youth’s spine arched violently. It was a motion which forced his body up and against the vampire’s chest. He did not cry out. The pain was so terrible it stripped him of his voice. His hand moved instinctively to the blind man’s shoulder, to heave him aside, to push away the source of his agony. But his fingertips simply seized the cloth about his host’s collar, and he pulled, and pulled.
    Paralysed by fear, there was little left to do but choke softly upon the air.

    Soon the foundations of the room had begun to creak and turn like a carousel, and the darkness in each corner gaped like a mouth and stretched in towards him.

    The boy did not remain conscious for much longer.


    Last edited by Fabien on Thu Mar 10, 2016 3:32 pm; edited 1 time in total
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    Tariq
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    Re: ** Interlude - Brew a bruise on my heart and drink it like wine

    Post  Tariq on Mon Mar 07, 2016 11:44 pm

    Tariq drank deep of the boy’s veins. He responded to his arching against him with a thrust of his own, his hips grinding into the crook between Fabien’s legs. His grasping hands mercilessly claimed every bit of skin they possessed as his own.

    When the hand that had strained against his shoulder went lax and wilted like the heavy head of a dying rose, the vampire wavered for the first time. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled his teeth from his throat. He broke away grudgingly, shivers racing through his limbs.

    He slid from the bed and onto his feet like one in a daze. This evidently did not put enough distance between him and the youth’s unconscious sprawl – he paced to the far side of the room and back like a raging tiger in an iron cage. Without an audience to scrutinize his movements they were surer, swifter; there was something indescribably wrong about their certainty, as though he were not bound to the earth by quite the same laws of gravity and air resistance as any of the inhabitants of the sleeping city. When he returned to the wall he placed both trembling palms flat against it.

    Blood continued to pour from the injury to the boy’s throat. It was sluggish, lazy, not so eager as it had been to greet the vampire’s welcoming lips. It stained his collar the angry red of a sunset and darkened the bed-clothes.

    The vampire’s useless eyes had long fallen to a close. His breath hissed against his teeth. It was the only sound in the quiet room save the boy’s own labored breaths. His palms remained flat on the ungiving wood of the wall.

    It was several minutes before he opened his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. The last of the thick web that had shrouded him burned away like morning mist in the sun. He turned back to the bed, stooping to pick up the familiar smooth weight of his walking stick that had been discarded in the chaos. His silhouette was austere as he contemplated the boy from his bedside. The scene was not a pleasant one – a grim spectre of death come to linger at a child’s sickbed.

    Whatever contemplations stirred in the dust and ash of his mind came abruptly to accord and the man bent over his unconscious ward. His hands were efficient as they checked the low thrum of his pulse in the artery of his bruised wrist, apparently indifferent to his hand’s death-like swoon within his grasp. Something in his spectral eyes softened. He gently released the wrist still emblazoned with rope burns and let it splay with curled fingers.  

    He turned his attention to the cut on the urchin’s throat that still trickled a dark stream of blood. Fabien’s weary heart did not force it with quite the same glee from his torn artery but it still threatened to exsanguinate him beyond repair if left unchecked.

    The vampire knelt on the bed, careful of the boy’s lifeless limbs, delicate now when it mattered the least to his guest. A ripple of hesitancy very briefly knit his eyebrows together. And then it was too late to waver as he returned his mouth to his throat, his tongue pressing firmly against the wound. It was an effective seal. The blood staunched immediately, beginning to clot as it should though it made the hand that was not supporting the boy’s lolled head clench tight.

    He did not dare stir for several minutes as he allowed the boy’s body to begin the long work of healing. Only when the flow of blood had stemmed entirely did he raise his head, licking the iron from his teeth with a shiver.

    Tariq sat for a moment with his guest. The room was peaceful now, warm and dark. The boy’s shallow breathing was unexpectedly serene. He allowed himself a pause to contemplate it before rising with a sigh. He gathered what blankets he could over the boy, extinguished the lights, and stepped out into the hall. The opened door bled silver moonlight into the room before being shut, the scrape and grind of a key in a lock exposing it as locking only from the outside.

    Outside, the darkness was thinning. Soon the sun would rise in a slaughterhouse muddle of scarlet as though in sympathy to the boy’s ordeal. Inside, the room in which he slept was warm and secure as a mouse’s burrow – if one overlooked that it was a prison and his warden - who stepped death-eyed away from the door, a smile glinting on bone-white teeth - a monster.

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