irena_aneri
in
__vam
Shadow Passion - Ch. 19
Title: Shadow Passion
Author: 616hasgotaname and irena_aneri
Fandom: Music/VAM
Summary: Companion piece to “Kiss”. AU. Two people brought together by an undying love that defies the ages. One, a vampire with a bizarre need for camaraderie, the other a human ostracized from an unforgiving mortal world. Separately, they are powerless and lonely. Together they are unstoppable.
Disclaimer: They own themselves. Never happened, never will, don't sue.
Rating: R - NC17 (Please read responsibly.)
Wow, long time no update, yes? Okay. So Jade and I have been really, really, busy. Which shouldn't be an excuse, but oh well. I've lost contact with my co-author, so I decided to take the initiative and post this; you guys have waited long enough. I don't know if the loss of contact is permanent or not, so I need your guys' help. If it is permanent, do you want the story to continue?
Feedback is love, we once had over 230 comments. Bring Shadow Passion back with a bang.
Chapter Nineteen
http://616hasgotaname.livejournal.com/
http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2185445.html#cutid1
http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2198718.html
http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2198872.html
Above are the links to Chapters 1-16, 17, and 18 part 1 & 2
~*~
The pair lay there in silence, breathing slowing ever more as they rested against the wall. Bam blinked, opening his eyes when he heard a low moan issue from the vampire beside him.
"Ville?" the skater asked, alarmed; it was a moan of pain. He twisted his body to look at Ville. His eyes were closed tightly as he slowly lifted his torso from the wall, wincing in pain when his naked back peeled away from the cold painted concrete. Letting out a hiss, Ville opened watery eyes.
"Yes?" He grimaced as he leant forward, kneeling.
"Are...are you okay?" Bam asked hesitantly, watching Ville move slowly to stand up.
"I'm fine--" The vampire snapped, but let out a whimper and fell to the floor in a heap when his back brushed against the doorknob. A pale blush stained his cheeks as he glanced up at Bam, who was now standing over him, a look of concern on his face.
"Let me help you," he said gently, offering a hand to an extremely embarrassed Ville. He was rather surprised when he swatted it away, visibly trembling as he strained to push himself up.
"I don't need help. I'm going to take a shower." He hissed. Bam was surprised by the coldness in Ville’s voice, not responding when the vampire’s discolored and wounded back stalked away from him towards the direction of the bathroom.
'He’s like a fucking girl, I swear…PMS-ing all the time...' he thought in amazement, once again forgetting the very vocal link they mentally shared.
“I FUCKING HEARD THAT, BAM!” Came the shouted response from the adjacent bathroom.
Bam sighed. But it was true; and Bam found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the moody vampire’s broad emotional spectrum. One minute he was fine and affectionate, the next, enter a pissed, miserable SuperBitch by the name of Ville.
The skater looked up from his thoughts when he heard the shower cut on. He glanced around the room, a sense of guilt almost overwhelming him as he took in his surroundings.
The television lay in two clean pieces on the floor, next to Bam’s crumpled clothing. Sparkling shards of mirror were visible everywhere, littering the ground like frost would in autumn morning. But Bam’s azure eyes fell on one shard in particular. A long, thin, wickedly sharp piece of glass stained with crimson. His stomach flipped; clenching as the image of Ville screaming for him to stop causing him to close his eyes with guilt, bile building up in his throat.
“What’s happening with me?” he wondered aloud. “I’m not like that…I’m not...” he whispered, refusing to admit how confused and scared he was right then.
Bam stood, padding silently across the carpeting dampened with the vampire’s blood. With every step he took, his growing sense of dread increased.
He paused outside the door to the bathroom, listening. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of water. The skater took a shuddering breath, trying to shake off the ominous feeling that shrouded him like a cloak. Steeling himself for what he wanted to do, he grasped the cool metal of the doorknob. He was about to turn it when he heard a low, quiet whimper from the other side, followed by a sharp intake of air.
He winced, listening for any more sounds. But none came. Bam turned the knob silently, entering the steam filled bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He saw a set of neatly folded clothes on the stark white ceramic of the sink, a large fluffy looking towel was hanging on the notch above the linen basket next to the shower stall. Not even glancing at his own reflection in the fogged up mirror, fearing what he’d see, he quietly pulled back the shower curtain a few inches.
Ville was facing away from him, seemingly unaware of the skater's presence. His lithe back had long, shallow gashes that met and criss-crossed all the way from his protruding shoulder blades to the end of his visible spine. Bam also noticed, not without surprise, that the gashes were still open, scalding water running across his shoulders and down into the cuts. His gaze dropped, watching the water turn pink on the floor of the shower. He saw Ville’s back tense as the water continued to work its way into the incisions. He felt he now had a good idea what the noise from earlier had been from.
“Admiring your work?” Bam nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Ville’s voice. 'Of course I knew you were there.' the vampire continued, answering the unasked question inside Bam’s mind.
“Ville, I…I--“ he stopped, climbing into the shower and standing behind Ville, who still had his back to him. “It’s not like that...” he laid a hand on the vampire’s shoulder, feeling his muscles tense as he stiffened beneath his touch. Letting his hand drop, he swallowed before trying to speak again. “It isn’t like that…Ville, I didn’t want to--“
But his stammered apologetic words were cut off as Ville whipped around, stepping closer to Bam with a dark expression on his face. “Don’t lie to me, Bam.” Ville hissed, grasping the base of the skaters’ throat and pushing him back against the tiling.
Bam’s jaw was set as the vampire's fingers ghosted over the puncture marks on his neck, not at all gently. “I wasn’t lying to you, Ville. I do love you,” Bam whispered, using all of the air that Ville was allowing to pass through his throat.
“Liar.” Ville whispered dangerously, stepping forward and closing the space between them. Bam spluttered as Ville ran his fingers down Bam’s arms, grabbing at his wrists and forcing them above his skater's head. “If you can’t at least be honest with me…” Ville whispered still, tugging on the bandage covering the wound on Bam’s wrist. The very same one that had saved his life a mere day ago. “…then maybe you shouldn’t be near me at all.” He said quietly, letting the bandage fall silently to the floor, bringing the skater's wrist to his lips.
“…I don’t hide what I am from you, Bam.” The vampire hissed, his lips closing over the incision on the younger man's wrist. The boy squirmed; Ville bucked his hips forward further pinning him to the wall of the shower. Bam froze.
” Liar.” Bam thought venomously. What he got as a response to his thought was Ville piercing his flesh with sharp fangs, lapping at his wrist, flicking his tongue alongside the battered skin. Bam didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to struggle. He just stood there, letting Ville do what he wanted.
The skater bit back a pitiful whine when Ville bit down harder, but still he remained silent; unmoving. His eyes rolled back into his head when the vampire let out a guttural moan. Suddenly the movements on his wrist were gone, but Bam still kept his eyes closed.
“Bam…Bam, look at me.” Ville said in a throaty voice. But the skater ignored him. Without warning, he felt slick, warm lips on his own, nipping at his lower lip, the touch gentle. Bam felt Ville’s hand slide up his chest slowly.
Remaining silent and motionless, Bam could almost feel the frustration emanating from the vampire. He didn’t move to kiss him back, his lips sealed and together. Ville ran his tongue along the skater's lower lip, lightly grazing his nipple with short nails.
At that, Bam’s mouth fell open, a silent gasp coming from his lips as Ville deftly slid his tongue into the younger man's mouth, kissing him slowly. Bam finally caved, tilting his head back, arm sliding down Ville’s back in attempt to hold the noises wanting to leave his throat at the taste of his own blood.
He felt the smirk on Ville’s lips when Bam’s hand clutched at the vampire’s back. Bam let out a gasp of surprise. The gashes were gone, skin fully healed. Eyes opening in shock, he pushed violently at Ville’s chest, sending him flying backwards.
Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments.
“What the fuck, Bam?” Ville panted, obviously aroused with an extremely annoyed expression on his flushed face. His lips were swollen, eyes darkened. But Bam closed his eyes to the sight before him.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Bam whispered, taking a step back, staring at Ville and gulping. The vampire raised an eyebrow.
“You’re denying me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement. But it was a fact. Bam wasn’t intimidated.
“And you’re using me.”
Ville lunged forward, grabbing Bam's wrist, forcing him to touch the gash across his lower abdomen. It was far deeper and elaborate than the ones on his back had been, and hadn't yet healed.
"And this isn't being used, sweetheart?" he snarled, locking eyes with Bam while simultaneously dragging the skater's hand along the curved cut, diagonally separating the intricate tattoo that adorned his stomach. The incision fit perfectly, crimson blending all too well with the curling black ink. Bam drew a sharp intake of breath as he saw pain flicker across Ville's face.
"You want to know what it's like to be used, Bam?"
Much to Ville's surprise, Bam nodded. "Really now..." Ville asked softly, stepping forward towards a visibly trembling Bam. "And why would you want that, dear boy?" Ville said, watching Bam shrink back into the wall.
What the skater said next both impressed and angered Ville. "Because I think I already know what it's like to be used, dear Ville. You say you know the same--"
Ville snarled, grabbing Bam by the shoulders, throwing him against the wall again. But Bam only let a small smirk escape his lips, Ville's face an inch from his own.
"Prove it." Bam whispered, staring directly into Ville's eyes.
A bolt of electricity ran through both of them as Ville tightly gripped the skater's shoulders, nails digging painfully into damp flesh. Green eyes grew cold as they locked with blue, a silent promise, dark and menacing, floating between them. A satisfied smirk curled across Ville's lips as he whispered, "Oh, I shall."
And that's when it happened.
Bam felt the world around him begin to spin, the edges of the bathroom fading into dark shadow and drifting farther away from him. As if someone had flicked off the light switch, he found himself suddenly encased in darkness, the sound of the running bath water cutting off and filling the steamy room with deafening silence.
And he saw it. He saw everything.
A softly burning fire provided the light, crackling and mocking the silence with distasteful laughter. Everything in the room was like a distorted shadow of itself; the hint of wall murals of heroes past, only their piercing eyes bleeding through the inky darkness, a heavily outlined bed draped with expensive fabric loomed like a hulking beast known of nightmares. But maybe this was indeed a nightmare. A sharp cry, pitiful and full of anguish and self-loathing, broke through the silence; the sound of someone’s world crumbling beneath them.
A large Persian rug was laid out upon the cold hardwood floor, stretching seemingly for miles until it lay in a rumpled heap at the base of the four-post bed. It seemed like a pathetic attempt to make the menacing room more inviting. It was the epitome of extravagance; a wicked extravagance.
What could have been mistaken for a work of dark beauty appeared hauntingly slow from the depths of darkness, two figure’s faces shrouded in mystery. One was a fairly muscular man, dark leather clothing clinging to the frame of his back as he hunched over the other form upon the bed.
A pitiful whine rang clear then, breaking what was total silence.
“Jyrki, let me go..” issued from the lips of the man beneath the leather clad one above him. Silence was his answer, for the longest time.
"I told you that disobedience would not go unpunished," a deeply accented voice broke through that ever-returning silence, followed by a sad moan of displeasure.
"You've completely lost your mind, Jyrki," the other man grunted as he was pushed deeper into the plush fabric of the comforter. The man called Jyrki only laughed, the sound deep and harsh. A slap of leather on skin was heard, followed by a yelp of pain.
"Cocky still, aren’t we?” More silence. “Dear, dear Ville, one would assume that you'd know better by now, since we vampires are supposed to be all powerful." His amused voice did nothing to reflect his actions; actions that jumped suddenly to those of greater violence, strong hands quickly moving to wrap around the younger vampire's fragile neck. "I suppose I'll have to teach you."
The scathing snort of sarcasm that came from Ville was cut off abruptly when sharp nails grazed the two fading scars upon his pale neck, light pink puncture wounds barely visible to the human eyes.
Ville moaned lightly, pain flickering visibly over immaculate features. "I came here under the pretenses of you helping me with...this..." Ville panted, pointing to the source of his pain. "And this is what I get?" The cocky question did not go unnoticed. A devious smirk from Jyrki; another cry of pain from Ville.
“What the fuck? Stop doing that, it hurts!” Ville writhed as rough, bruising fingers traced a path down his side, stopping to rest upon his hips, pale flesh peeking out beneath the fabric of dark linens.
“Y-you said you were going to help me…STOP!!”
"Oh, but I am helping you. You just haven't realized it yet."
“You think this is funny? Let me fucking go, now, or I’ll-“
“You’ll what, dear one?” Jyrki whispered slowly as seemingly out of nowhere, a sharp dagger appeared in his hand, cutting him off once again.
Ville gulped and went pale, watching as the firelight caught the blade and cast obscure lights across his chest as he admired the intricate patterns upon it. The hilt was emblazoned with rubies and gems, welded deep within the solid silver of the handle and curving all the way up to a skull that served as its base.
"Look familiar, Ville?" Jyrki asked darkly, his voice like poison to an antidote, canceling out any appreciation the younger vampire was feeling for the blade. Ville shook his head frantically, his lips curving into a 'no' but no words leaving his parched lungs.
A pout crossed Jyrki’s features, a manic fevered gleam in his eyes as he waved the weapon in the air carelessly. "Think a little harder, I'm sure you remember."
The sun of realization seemed to refuse to dawn on the younger vampire. His mind was blank, other than for the thought that Jyrki was really insane, and should be pitied.
That was until a small, mocking “Willlaaaa, I love youuu” escaped his lips.
Ville froze, green eyes growing wide with hatred and shock. A satisfied smirk crossed Jyrki’s face then. “I told you you’d remember, love...” Ville glared up at him through drowning eyes. But still he could not bring the words to his lips, could not form the sentences and curses that were cluttering his mind. Jyrki smiled, and bent over. "….I knew you would come around."
Jyrki pulled back then, blue eyes growing sharp with inner fire. A mumbled snarl left his lips before his head snapped toward the door, one word, shouted, tore through the silence. "Jussi!"
The name reverberated off of every wall, ripping through the hallways in a wave of fierce sound. It seemed as if the walls shook with the mere force of Jyrki's words. The heavy brass doorknob shook and twirled, the door creaking open at an agonizingly slow pace, light from the hallway filtered across the floor.
With an ungodly twist to his neck, Jyrki wrenched Ville’s face towards the door. The anger in his body overriding the pain, Ville froze as the door softly clicked shut. A strange man was walking toward the bed, muscular chest visible through the fabric of his tight black shirt, midnight-black hair spiked in a million angles upon his head.
One look at this man, and Ville knew. He knew nothing good would come of this. The smirk on Jyrki’s face told him nothing less.
Rage filled his veins and with renewed energy as he once more struggled to push Jyrki off of him. He shoved his knee violently upwards, wedging it between their two bodies and roughly shoving the elder vampire away. The faintest of smiles crossed Ville’s lips when he saw Jyrki spread across the floor, momentarily stunned. Not waiting a second, Ville made a mad-dash toward the opposite end of the room.
Mere inches from the door, Ville skidded to a sudden halt. Radiant eyes pierced the darkness of the room, shining vividly through the inky night and capturing Ville's attention. His mouth dropped open, frozen to the spot. As much as he wanted to move, those eyes wouldn’t let him.
They were sad. Sad and imprisoned. Clear as the sky and as hidden as the key to a lovers’ heart….they so reminded him of-
Ville was torn from his reverie sharply, gasping as two strong arms locked around his waist and pulled him backwards, causing his feet to be pulled out from beneath him and making him stumble slightly. He hissed in anger, twisting in his captor's steady grasp, turning to see the strange owner of those haunting eyes.
A snarl was heard as Jyrki stirred and picked himself off the floor, growling. Deep grey eyes were clouded and unreadable, the hint of sadness being the only emotion to cross Jussi's face as he obeyed an unspoken order and dragged Ville back toward the bed.
"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Jyrki laughed as Ville was dumped upon the mattress. The second his bare back touched the comforter he was up again, fighting to get away. But two sets of hands had him pinned.
“LET ME GO YOU SON OF A BIT-“
The dagger was back, hovering menacingly over Ville's bare chest, silencing him. Jyrki smirked, Ville’s fear egging him on as he dragged it downwards, skimming the flesh but producing no blood. Ville bucked his hips upwards as cold steel kissed his skin.
"The last person in this situation didn't fair too well, did he, Jussi?" Jyrki mocked, digging the blade into the soft flesh of Ville's hip. The question went unanswered as the older one continued. "You remember him, I'm sure. Your whore...what was his name?" Ville tensed as pearls of crimson sprang forth from wherever Jyrki flicked his wrist.
"B..." was all Ville could get out, the memory too fresh for his heart to handle. He once more tried to struggle, but Jyrki had all of his weight atop Ville's legs, keeping them locked against the bed while Jussi pushed down upon his shoulders. He was trapped.
"Go on, say it," Jyrki grinned, digging the blade in deeper and smiling as Ville gasped.
Ville didn't provide him with an answer, instead his eyes grew cold and he shouted, "You killed him!"
"Wrong," he laughed again, the noise disgusting to Ville's ears as he continued to drag the blade across his flesh, skimming his lower abdomen now. He wanted to rip that sound right from Jyrki's throat, watch him scream in pain as he danced in his blood. "You are the one that killed him, Ville."
"No!" Ville shouted, scorching tears burning a path down his cheeks. "You're wrong! I would never-“
he was cut off as an involuntary moan tore it’s way from the younger vampires’ throat as the curling pattern of the dagger dipped lower on his stomach, a point being carved into his skin. But he fought for breath to speak-
could never--do that!"
"Oh, but you have. You killed the one person who ever cared, the one person who ever showed you love," Jyrki mocked, a sadistic grin warping his face as he watched Ville writhe beneath him.
"And now...now you are paying for your sins."
Ville slumped, rage dying; a final pearly tear slipping from his eyes. He closed them, just wanting to let it all go. He wanted to be numb. But the searing pain that Ville couldn’t ignore registered as ministrations far from erratic. They were controlled, thought out. It felt almost as if there was a pattern to the movements; twisted, dark design upon an empty canvas. A part of his brain screamed with familiarity, knowing exactly what design was being carved into his flesh but unable to grasp its importance.
His eyes flicked open as a scream ripped it’s way from his throat, he looked down to find his abdomen covered in his own blood, Jyrki viciously slicing through the thin skin at an unimaginably slow pace.
He didn’t care anymore, he just wanted it to stop, he’d beg if he had to.
“Stop it…Jyrki...please...” he sobbed, his body shaking as his eyes fluttered shut once more, rolling back into his head.
“Begging will get you nowhere…just like it got your whore nowhere.” Jyrki scoffed, amused. “Well, it did get him somewhere; he’s dead…”
Ville whimpered, the words drawing more tears forth. I miss him so much, at least I’ll be with him soon--
The dagger clattered to the floor then, tossed aside with an air of unimportance. Ville watched, enraptured, as Jyrki bent to the side and began searching for something beneath the bed. Within moment his face was back, a masochistic grin on his face as he clutched a jar in his hand, filled to the brim with some darkly colored liquid.
"Black Nightshade," he mused allowed, fluently flipping the top off and swirling the liquid contained within the jar. It was thick and grainy, speckled with particles of ground up seeds and flowers. Blue eyes still trained on green, he languidly dipped to pale fingers into the jar before pulling them back out, a thick, sticky layer coating the digits. "Now, this may sting a little."
Without warning, he slapped his hand down upon the still open wound on Ville's waist, the thick Nightshade seeping into the blood and setting it afire. Ville scrunched his eyes shut, desperately trying to prevent the scream that he knew was building in his chest. It felt like acid. Jyrki repeated the process several times, covering the entire wound until it no longer bled red...but hideous black. His hand rested perfectly over the incision, willing it to heal.
Ville began to panic as his muscles betrayed him, every limb growing stiff with pain and paralysis. He tried to scream, tried to struggle, but his throat felt as if it were being blocked by some unseen force. Green eyes wide with fear, Ville looked up to Jyrki, who only smiled down in return.
"A beautiful fate for a beautiful body..." Jyrki whispered, satisfied at a job well done, wiping the excess blood and nightshade from the younger mans pale abdomen, letting his fingers linger a little too long.
Ville whimpered, unable to move, unable to speak-
“Oh, and Ville love, that’s not enough to make you die. You’re immortal remember? You’ll never see your little slut ever again.” Jyrki hissed, grinning as tears slipped from those sad, sad eyes, the only movement from the body beneath him.
The fingers tracing the design on Ville’s stomach slipped an inch lower, and the look of sadness was quickly replaced by panic. Jyrki leaned forward, lips ghosting over the paralyzed vampires’ form in a whisper-
“Now, hold still, kulta, while I take what’s rightfully mine-“
*--===--===<><><><><><><><><><>-===--===--*
Once again, so very sorry for the delay. Please let me know if you want the story to continue. You're the readers, you decide. ~Irena
Author: 616hasgotaname and irena_aneri
Fandom: Music/VAM
Summary: Companion piece to “Kiss”. AU. Two people brought together by an undying love that defies the ages. One, a vampire with a bizarre need for camaraderie, the other a human ostracized from an unforgiving mortal world. Separately, they are powerless and lonely. Together they are unstoppable.
Disclaimer: They own themselves. Never happened, never will, don't sue.
Rating: R - NC17 (Please read responsibly.)
Wow, long time no update, yes? Okay. So Jade and I have been really, really, busy. Which shouldn't be an excuse, but oh well. I've lost contact with my co-author, so I decided to take the initiative and post this; you guys have waited long enough. I don't know if the loss of contact is permanent or not, so I need your guys' help. If it is permanent, do you want the story to continue?
Feedback is love, we once had over 230 comments. Bring Shadow Passion back with a bang.
Chapter Nineteen
http://616hasgotaname.livejournal.com/
http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2185445.html#cutid1
http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2198718.html
http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2198872.html
Above are the links to Chapters 1-16, 17, and 18 part 1 & 2
~*~
The pair lay there in silence, breathing slowing ever more as they rested against the wall. Bam blinked, opening his eyes when he heard a low moan issue from the vampire beside him.
"Ville?" the skater asked, alarmed; it was a moan of pain. He twisted his body to look at Ville. His eyes were closed tightly as he slowly lifted his torso from the wall, wincing in pain when his naked back peeled away from the cold painted concrete. Letting out a hiss, Ville opened watery eyes.
"Yes?" He grimaced as he leant forward, kneeling.
"Are...are you okay?" Bam asked hesitantly, watching Ville move slowly to stand up.
"I'm fine--" The vampire snapped, but let out a whimper and fell to the floor in a heap when his back brushed against the doorknob. A pale blush stained his cheeks as he glanced up at Bam, who was now standing over him, a look of concern on his face.
"Let me help you," he said gently, offering a hand to an extremely embarrassed Ville. He was rather surprised when he swatted it away, visibly trembling as he strained to push himself up.
"I don't need help. I'm going to take a shower." He hissed. Bam was surprised by the coldness in Ville’s voice, not responding when the vampire’s discolored and wounded back stalked away from him towards the direction of the bathroom.
'He’s like a fucking girl, I swear…PMS-ing all the time...' he thought in amazement, once again forgetting the very vocal link they mentally shared.
“I FUCKING HEARD THAT, BAM!” Came the shouted response from the adjacent bathroom.
Bam sighed. But it was true; and Bam found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the moody vampire’s broad emotional spectrum. One minute he was fine and affectionate, the next, enter a pissed, miserable SuperBitch by the name of Ville.
The skater looked up from his thoughts when he heard the shower cut on. He glanced around the room, a sense of guilt almost overwhelming him as he took in his surroundings.
The television lay in two clean pieces on the floor, next to Bam’s crumpled clothing. Sparkling shards of mirror were visible everywhere, littering the ground like frost would in autumn morning. But Bam’s azure eyes fell on one shard in particular. A long, thin, wickedly sharp piece of glass stained with crimson. His stomach flipped; clenching as the image of Ville screaming for him to stop causing him to close his eyes with guilt, bile building up in his throat.
“What’s happening with me?” he wondered aloud. “I’m not like that…I’m not...” he whispered, refusing to admit how confused and scared he was right then.
Bam stood, padding silently across the carpeting dampened with the vampire’s blood. With every step he took, his growing sense of dread increased.
He paused outside the door to the bathroom, listening. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of water. The skater took a shuddering breath, trying to shake off the ominous feeling that shrouded him like a cloak. Steeling himself for what he wanted to do, he grasped the cool metal of the doorknob. He was about to turn it when he heard a low, quiet whimper from the other side, followed by a sharp intake of air.
He winced, listening for any more sounds. But none came. Bam turned the knob silently, entering the steam filled bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He saw a set of neatly folded clothes on the stark white ceramic of the sink, a large fluffy looking towel was hanging on the notch above the linen basket next to the shower stall. Not even glancing at his own reflection in the fogged up mirror, fearing what he’d see, he quietly pulled back the shower curtain a few inches.
Ville was facing away from him, seemingly unaware of the skater's presence. His lithe back had long, shallow gashes that met and criss-crossed all the way from his protruding shoulder blades to the end of his visible spine. Bam also noticed, not without surprise, that the gashes were still open, scalding water running across his shoulders and down into the cuts. His gaze dropped, watching the water turn pink on the floor of the shower. He saw Ville’s back tense as the water continued to work its way into the incisions. He felt he now had a good idea what the noise from earlier had been from.
“Admiring your work?” Bam nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Ville’s voice. 'Of course I knew you were there.' the vampire continued, answering the unasked question inside Bam’s mind.
“Ville, I…I--“ he stopped, climbing into the shower and standing behind Ville, who still had his back to him. “It’s not like that...” he laid a hand on the vampire’s shoulder, feeling his muscles tense as he stiffened beneath his touch. Letting his hand drop, he swallowed before trying to speak again. “It isn’t like that…Ville, I didn’t want to--“
But his stammered apologetic words were cut off as Ville whipped around, stepping closer to Bam with a dark expression on his face. “Don’t lie to me, Bam.” Ville hissed, grasping the base of the skaters’ throat and pushing him back against the tiling.
Bam’s jaw was set as the vampire's fingers ghosted over the puncture marks on his neck, not at all gently. “I wasn’t lying to you, Ville. I do love you,” Bam whispered, using all of the air that Ville was allowing to pass through his throat.
“Liar.” Ville whispered dangerously, stepping forward and closing the space between them. Bam spluttered as Ville ran his fingers down Bam’s arms, grabbing at his wrists and forcing them above his skater's head. “If you can’t at least be honest with me…” Ville whispered still, tugging on the bandage covering the wound on Bam’s wrist. The very same one that had saved his life a mere day ago. “…then maybe you shouldn’t be near me at all.” He said quietly, letting the bandage fall silently to the floor, bringing the skater's wrist to his lips.
“…I don’t hide what I am from you, Bam.” The vampire hissed, his lips closing over the incision on the younger man's wrist. The boy squirmed; Ville bucked his hips forward further pinning him to the wall of the shower. Bam froze.
” Liar.” Bam thought venomously. What he got as a response to his thought was Ville piercing his flesh with sharp fangs, lapping at his wrist, flicking his tongue alongside the battered skin. Bam didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to struggle. He just stood there, letting Ville do what he wanted.
The skater bit back a pitiful whine when Ville bit down harder, but still he remained silent; unmoving. His eyes rolled back into his head when the vampire let out a guttural moan. Suddenly the movements on his wrist were gone, but Bam still kept his eyes closed.
“Bam…Bam, look at me.” Ville said in a throaty voice. But the skater ignored him. Without warning, he felt slick, warm lips on his own, nipping at his lower lip, the touch gentle. Bam felt Ville’s hand slide up his chest slowly.
Remaining silent and motionless, Bam could almost feel the frustration emanating from the vampire. He didn’t move to kiss him back, his lips sealed and together. Ville ran his tongue along the skater's lower lip, lightly grazing his nipple with short nails.
At that, Bam’s mouth fell open, a silent gasp coming from his lips as Ville deftly slid his tongue into the younger man's mouth, kissing him slowly. Bam finally caved, tilting his head back, arm sliding down Ville’s back in attempt to hold the noises wanting to leave his throat at the taste of his own blood.
He felt the smirk on Ville’s lips when Bam’s hand clutched at the vampire’s back. Bam let out a gasp of surprise. The gashes were gone, skin fully healed. Eyes opening in shock, he pushed violently at Ville’s chest, sending him flying backwards.
Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments.
“What the fuck, Bam?” Ville panted, obviously aroused with an extremely annoyed expression on his flushed face. His lips were swollen, eyes darkened. But Bam closed his eyes to the sight before him.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Bam whispered, taking a step back, staring at Ville and gulping. The vampire raised an eyebrow.
“You’re denying me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement. But it was a fact. Bam wasn’t intimidated.
“And you’re using me.”
Ville lunged forward, grabbing Bam's wrist, forcing him to touch the gash across his lower abdomen. It was far deeper and elaborate than the ones on his back had been, and hadn't yet healed.
"And this isn't being used, sweetheart?" he snarled, locking eyes with Bam while simultaneously dragging the skater's hand along the curved cut, diagonally separating the intricate tattoo that adorned his stomach. The incision fit perfectly, crimson blending all too well with the curling black ink. Bam drew a sharp intake of breath as he saw pain flicker across Ville's face.
"You want to know what it's like to be used, Bam?"
Much to Ville's surprise, Bam nodded. "Really now..." Ville asked softly, stepping forward towards a visibly trembling Bam. "And why would you want that, dear boy?" Ville said, watching Bam shrink back into the wall.
What the skater said next both impressed and angered Ville. "Because I think I already know what it's like to be used, dear Ville. You say you know the same--"
Ville snarled, grabbing Bam by the shoulders, throwing him against the wall again. But Bam only let a small smirk escape his lips, Ville's face an inch from his own.
"Prove it." Bam whispered, staring directly into Ville's eyes.
A bolt of electricity ran through both of them as Ville tightly gripped the skater's shoulders, nails digging painfully into damp flesh. Green eyes grew cold as they locked with blue, a silent promise, dark and menacing, floating between them. A satisfied smirk curled across Ville's lips as he whispered, "Oh, I shall."
And that's when it happened.
Bam felt the world around him begin to spin, the edges of the bathroom fading into dark shadow and drifting farther away from him. As if someone had flicked off the light switch, he found himself suddenly encased in darkness, the sound of the running bath water cutting off and filling the steamy room with deafening silence.
And he saw it. He saw everything.
A softly burning fire provided the light, crackling and mocking the silence with distasteful laughter. Everything in the room was like a distorted shadow of itself; the hint of wall murals of heroes past, only their piercing eyes bleeding through the inky darkness, a heavily outlined bed draped with expensive fabric loomed like a hulking beast known of nightmares. But maybe this was indeed a nightmare. A sharp cry, pitiful and full of anguish and self-loathing, broke through the silence; the sound of someone’s world crumbling beneath them.
A large Persian rug was laid out upon the cold hardwood floor, stretching seemingly for miles until it lay in a rumpled heap at the base of the four-post bed. It seemed like a pathetic attempt to make the menacing room more inviting. It was the epitome of extravagance; a wicked extravagance.
What could have been mistaken for a work of dark beauty appeared hauntingly slow from the depths of darkness, two figure’s faces shrouded in mystery. One was a fairly muscular man, dark leather clothing clinging to the frame of his back as he hunched over the other form upon the bed.
A pitiful whine rang clear then, breaking what was total silence.
“Jyrki, let me go..” issued from the lips of the man beneath the leather clad one above him. Silence was his answer, for the longest time.
"I told you that disobedience would not go unpunished," a deeply accented voice broke through that ever-returning silence, followed by a sad moan of displeasure.
"You've completely lost your mind, Jyrki," the other man grunted as he was pushed deeper into the plush fabric of the comforter. The man called Jyrki only laughed, the sound deep and harsh. A slap of leather on skin was heard, followed by a yelp of pain.
"Cocky still, aren’t we?” More silence. “Dear, dear Ville, one would assume that you'd know better by now, since we vampires are supposed to be all powerful." His amused voice did nothing to reflect his actions; actions that jumped suddenly to those of greater violence, strong hands quickly moving to wrap around the younger vampire's fragile neck. "I suppose I'll have to teach you."
The scathing snort of sarcasm that came from Ville was cut off abruptly when sharp nails grazed the two fading scars upon his pale neck, light pink puncture wounds barely visible to the human eyes.
Ville moaned lightly, pain flickering visibly over immaculate features. "I came here under the pretenses of you helping me with...this..." Ville panted, pointing to the source of his pain. "And this is what I get?" The cocky question did not go unnoticed. A devious smirk from Jyrki; another cry of pain from Ville.
“What the fuck? Stop doing that, it hurts!” Ville writhed as rough, bruising fingers traced a path down his side, stopping to rest upon his hips, pale flesh peeking out beneath the fabric of dark linens.
“Y-you said you were going to help me…STOP!!”
"Oh, but I am helping you. You just haven't realized it yet."
“You think this is funny? Let me fucking go, now, or I’ll-“
“You’ll what, dear one?” Jyrki whispered slowly as seemingly out of nowhere, a sharp dagger appeared in his hand, cutting him off once again.
Ville gulped and went pale, watching as the firelight caught the blade and cast obscure lights across his chest as he admired the intricate patterns upon it. The hilt was emblazoned with rubies and gems, welded deep within the solid silver of the handle and curving all the way up to a skull that served as its base.
"Look familiar, Ville?" Jyrki asked darkly, his voice like poison to an antidote, canceling out any appreciation the younger vampire was feeling for the blade. Ville shook his head frantically, his lips curving into a 'no' but no words leaving his parched lungs.
A pout crossed Jyrki’s features, a manic fevered gleam in his eyes as he waved the weapon in the air carelessly. "Think a little harder, I'm sure you remember."
The sun of realization seemed to refuse to dawn on the younger vampire. His mind was blank, other than for the thought that Jyrki was really insane, and should be pitied.
That was until a small, mocking “Willlaaaa, I love youuu” escaped his lips.
Ville froze, green eyes growing wide with hatred and shock. A satisfied smirk crossed Jyrki’s face then. “I told you you’d remember, love...” Ville glared up at him through drowning eyes. But still he could not bring the words to his lips, could not form the sentences and curses that were cluttering his mind. Jyrki smiled, and bent over. "….I knew you would come around."
Jyrki pulled back then, blue eyes growing sharp with inner fire. A mumbled snarl left his lips before his head snapped toward the door, one word, shouted, tore through the silence. "Jussi!"
The name reverberated off of every wall, ripping through the hallways in a wave of fierce sound. It seemed as if the walls shook with the mere force of Jyrki's words. The heavy brass doorknob shook and twirled, the door creaking open at an agonizingly slow pace, light from the hallway filtered across the floor.
With an ungodly twist to his neck, Jyrki wrenched Ville’s face towards the door. The anger in his body overriding the pain, Ville froze as the door softly clicked shut. A strange man was walking toward the bed, muscular chest visible through the fabric of his tight black shirt, midnight-black hair spiked in a million angles upon his head.
One look at this man, and Ville knew. He knew nothing good would come of this. The smirk on Jyrki’s face told him nothing less.
Rage filled his veins and with renewed energy as he once more struggled to push Jyrki off of him. He shoved his knee violently upwards, wedging it between their two bodies and roughly shoving the elder vampire away. The faintest of smiles crossed Ville’s lips when he saw Jyrki spread across the floor, momentarily stunned. Not waiting a second, Ville made a mad-dash toward the opposite end of the room.
Mere inches from the door, Ville skidded to a sudden halt. Radiant eyes pierced the darkness of the room, shining vividly through the inky night and capturing Ville's attention. His mouth dropped open, frozen to the spot. As much as he wanted to move, those eyes wouldn’t let him.
They were sad. Sad and imprisoned. Clear as the sky and as hidden as the key to a lovers’ heart….they so reminded him of-
Ville was torn from his reverie sharply, gasping as two strong arms locked around his waist and pulled him backwards, causing his feet to be pulled out from beneath him and making him stumble slightly. He hissed in anger, twisting in his captor's steady grasp, turning to see the strange owner of those haunting eyes.
A snarl was heard as Jyrki stirred and picked himself off the floor, growling. Deep grey eyes were clouded and unreadable, the hint of sadness being the only emotion to cross Jussi's face as he obeyed an unspoken order and dragged Ville back toward the bed.
"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Jyrki laughed as Ville was dumped upon the mattress. The second his bare back touched the comforter he was up again, fighting to get away. But two sets of hands had him pinned.
“LET ME GO YOU SON OF A BIT-“
The dagger was back, hovering menacingly over Ville's bare chest, silencing him. Jyrki smirked, Ville’s fear egging him on as he dragged it downwards, skimming the flesh but producing no blood. Ville bucked his hips upwards as cold steel kissed his skin.
"The last person in this situation didn't fair too well, did he, Jussi?" Jyrki mocked, digging the blade into the soft flesh of Ville's hip. The question went unanswered as the older one continued. "You remember him, I'm sure. Your whore...what was his name?" Ville tensed as pearls of crimson sprang forth from wherever Jyrki flicked his wrist.
"B..." was all Ville could get out, the memory too fresh for his heart to handle. He once more tried to struggle, but Jyrki had all of his weight atop Ville's legs, keeping them locked against the bed while Jussi pushed down upon his shoulders. He was trapped.
"Go on, say it," Jyrki grinned, digging the blade in deeper and smiling as Ville gasped.
Ville didn't provide him with an answer, instead his eyes grew cold and he shouted, "You killed him!"
"Wrong," he laughed again, the noise disgusting to Ville's ears as he continued to drag the blade across his flesh, skimming his lower abdomen now. He wanted to rip that sound right from Jyrki's throat, watch him scream in pain as he danced in his blood. "You are the one that killed him, Ville."
"No!" Ville shouted, scorching tears burning a path down his cheeks. "You're wrong! I would never-“
he was cut off as an involuntary moan tore it’s way from the younger vampires’ throat as the curling pattern of the dagger dipped lower on his stomach, a point being carved into his skin. But he fought for breath to speak-
could never--do that!"
"Oh, but you have. You killed the one person who ever cared, the one person who ever showed you love," Jyrki mocked, a sadistic grin warping his face as he watched Ville writhe beneath him.
"And now...now you are paying for your sins."
Ville slumped, rage dying; a final pearly tear slipping from his eyes. He closed them, just wanting to let it all go. He wanted to be numb. But the searing pain that Ville couldn’t ignore registered as ministrations far from erratic. They were controlled, thought out. It felt almost as if there was a pattern to the movements; twisted, dark design upon an empty canvas. A part of his brain screamed with familiarity, knowing exactly what design was being carved into his flesh but unable to grasp its importance.
His eyes flicked open as a scream ripped it’s way from his throat, he looked down to find his abdomen covered in his own blood, Jyrki viciously slicing through the thin skin at an unimaginably slow pace.
He didn’t care anymore, he just wanted it to stop, he’d beg if he had to.
“Stop it…Jyrki...please...” he sobbed, his body shaking as his eyes fluttered shut once more, rolling back into his head.
“Begging will get you nowhere…just like it got your whore nowhere.” Jyrki scoffed, amused. “Well, it did get him somewhere; he’s dead…”
Ville whimpered, the words drawing more tears forth. I miss him so much, at least I’ll be with him soon--
The dagger clattered to the floor then, tossed aside with an air of unimportance. Ville watched, enraptured, as Jyrki bent to the side and began searching for something beneath the bed. Within moment his face was back, a masochistic grin on his face as he clutched a jar in his hand, filled to the brim with some darkly colored liquid.
"Black Nightshade," he mused allowed, fluently flipping the top off and swirling the liquid contained within the jar. It was thick and grainy, speckled with particles of ground up seeds and flowers. Blue eyes still trained on green, he languidly dipped to pale fingers into the jar before pulling them back out, a thick, sticky layer coating the digits. "Now, this may sting a little."
Without warning, he slapped his hand down upon the still open wound on Ville's waist, the thick Nightshade seeping into the blood and setting it afire. Ville scrunched his eyes shut, desperately trying to prevent the scream that he knew was building in his chest. It felt like acid. Jyrki repeated the process several times, covering the entire wound until it no longer bled red...but hideous black. His hand rested perfectly over the incision, willing it to heal.
Ville began to panic as his muscles betrayed him, every limb growing stiff with pain and paralysis. He tried to scream, tried to struggle, but his throat felt as if it were being blocked by some unseen force. Green eyes wide with fear, Ville looked up to Jyrki, who only smiled down in return.
"A beautiful fate for a beautiful body..." Jyrki whispered, satisfied at a job well done, wiping the excess blood and nightshade from the younger mans pale abdomen, letting his fingers linger a little too long.
Ville whimpered, unable to move, unable to speak-
“Oh, and Ville love, that’s not enough to make you die. You’re immortal remember? You’ll never see your little slut ever again.” Jyrki hissed, grinning as tears slipped from those sad, sad eyes, the only movement from the body beneath him.
The fingers tracing the design on Ville’s stomach slipped an inch lower, and the look of sadness was quickly replaced by panic. Jyrki leaned forward, lips ghosting over the paralyzed vampires’ form in a whisper-
“Now, hold still, kulta, while I take what’s rightfully mine-“
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Once again, so very sorry for the delay. Please let me know if you want the story to continue. You're the readers, you decide. ~Irena