Five Dark Variations
Title: Five Prompts Snatched from dark_bingo
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Smut, Violence
Wordcount: ~1,600
Characters: Claire, Luck, Dallas, Keith, Berga
Pairings: Claire/Luck, Dallas/Luck
Summary: Dark!fic with dark!humor. The prompts are: asphyxiation, dub-con, fear, on the run, and threats.
---
01
'Please', Claire asks of him. Just once. Just once is enough.
Luck's hands are surprisingly firm -- for fingers more likely to be wrapped around novels than guns and all -- and Claire smiles, urging him on. Luck bites the bottom of his lip, squeezing down without even meaning to, and Claire sighs, lashes fluttering, lips dry, and legs locked together tight.
'How was it?', he asks after his older brother has finished cleaning himself up.
'Not bad for the first time', is the cheeky reply. 'You could stand to be a little rougher though.' It's more a compliment than a request, but Claire has always been cryptic like that.
Next time (and of course there's a next time; they haven't shared the same room for five years for nothing) Luck doesn't hesitate, pressing down and holding on tight. There's a sick pleasure bubbling in his gut: to hold the life of someone else -- to hold the life of someone he loves -- so near, so dear.
'Almost', he almost hears, and then Claire's eyes roll back.
Luck panics, and even while panicking, he knows what to do. He squeezes cartilage and smashes their mouths together, exchanging shuddering breath after breath. Finally -- though he might have been dreaming the whole thing -- Claire chokes, spit and bile and half-digested lunch all over Luck's collar.
'You reek,' he has the nerve to say.
-
/prompt: asphyxiation
/In retrospect, this prompt would work well with Claire/Chane too...
---
02
"You've gotta stop doing this to yourself," Claire sighs. Luck mumbles something or another but Claire catches a name he would rather never hear again and so he ignores the other man entirely.
"C'mon," he urges, his arm pressed tight against Luck's waist. "One step at a time. There you go. We're almost home."
Somehow, Luck stumbles on the last step and though Claire catches him, his reflexes aren't enough to stop Luck from banging his forehead against the door.
"Stop that," Claire starts, and he frowns when Luck does not.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," his younger brother repeats, and he really does look stupid: banging his head against the unlocked door while being held close like an child in the New York winter.
"You're gonna end up bleeding..." Too late, of course; there's a red meander of blood trickling down his brow and it's certain he'll have a black-and-blue bruise to show for his efforts tomorrow.
"Alright, in you go," Claire huffs, pushing open the door and lifting the other up, over, and in with a light-hearted heave. Luck chokes on what could be either sob or laugh, but Claire pays him no heed, lugging them both over to the couch.
"You already know he's no good for you," he says, hands pressed tight against Luck's clenched fists. He leans forward, lapping at the blood. After a while, Luck jerks up, peppering Claire's cheeks with needy greedy kisses.
Claire flushes and Luck winces, pulling back, and it's only after a beat that Claire realizes his fingernails had dug into skin.
"Sorry," he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Luck's mouth.
"You'll find someone someday," he promises. "And he'll make you the happiest bastard this side of the Mississippi."
-
/prompt: dub-con
/This is pretty light dub-con for me, to be honest. It was quite fun writing two characters who didn't really want it, and bloodplay is always a pleasure.
---
03
When he leaves the Gandor family for an extended period -- his first trip with the circus -- he honestly wonders if he'll see them again.
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear," Luck had once recited, "And the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
At age fifteen, Claire thinks it's a silly quote from a silly brother who's more concerned with pretty words than methods of survival. But then, at age fifteen, he'd been more concerned with making himself faster, stronger, better, than with actually surviving.
'You're not scared of anything, are you?', one of the announcers at the circus had murmured, more of a comment than a question. They hadn't lasted long -- as all awe-filled people tended to last -- but he had been flattered all the same. A compliment was a compliment after all, however incorrect.
Because here is the thing: although the world exists for his benefit, he does not have complete control over the world. Perhaps it's because he does not want it; perhaps it's because he cannot have it. Either way, things that he wouldn't wish to happen still happen.
He dreams then, in bloodlust-filled episodes less nightmarish than surreal, of their murders. In one, he opens the door to find everyone shot cleanly through the head in the dead of the night. He goes on a rampage, kills everyone responsible and then some, and wakes up satisfied with his come staining the sheets.
In another, the house has been burnt down and he's made to spend hours dragging the charred bodies from the still-smoking rubble. He lays them out neatly, Keith, Berga, and then Luck, and buries them. And then he goes on the same rampage, killing everyone responsible and then some, and wakes up satisfied again with his come staining the sheets.
In the third iteration, he comes home to a hero's welcome and wakes up in the middle of the night with bloodstained hands. He runs down the hallways screaming names and of course no one answers because he's killed them all. In this dream, he wakes up covered with sweat and shaking with pleasure and, and, and --
Wasn't this why he had left?
-
/prompt: fear
/The quote is from HP Lovecraft, who I think Luck would've read.
---
04
"I'm so bored," Vino-who-is-still-Claire groans, running a hand through grime-flecked red locks.
"You could always leave," Luck points out, just as he's been doing for the past two-to-seven days.
"Not without you," Vino replies, same as he always has. He peers this way and that, looking for a better exit, before slouching down and twirling a lock of hair. "Are you sure you can't just dodge the bullets?" he asks once again.
"We can't all be like you," is the caustic reply.
"Yeah, well, you could at least make an effort."
"I've made fifteen efforts and been blasted to pieces fifteen times." A pause. "I have no idea how your suit is still in one piece, for that matter."
"Because I'm the older brother," Vino chuckles. "I could take them out too."
"You already have. Fifteen times."
"Maybe you shouldn't let riff-raff get their hands on the elixirs, hmm?"
Luck refuses comment.
"Alright, how about this?" Vino suggests, a lightbulb going off, "We know you regenerate around your heart, so why not have me pull it out? I'll take it with me and the rest of your body can follow in the timeb it takes for me to get rid of those people."
"What? No! Look, it's just a couple more days before Keith and Berga get back. There's no sense for me to make a further mess of the restaurant when I can just wait it out."
"But I'm so bored," Vino moans, flopping against the plush carpet.
-
/prompt: on the run
/A bit different from how I originally imagined it, but I quite like how the humor turned out.
---
05
"Luck, I understand that we've put you under a lot of pressure lately but,"
"Berga, would you just calm down?" his baby brother winces. "There weren't any drugs. There wasn't any alcohol."
"Blackmail is still coercion," Keith grunts.
"I'm not being blackmailed." He purses his lips, realizing the actual problem. "Where is Vino?"
His elder brothers exchange elder brother looks.
"Oh no," Luck says, starting for the door.
"Be patient," Berga replies. His words are backed up with bulk -- his bulk, to be precise. He plants himself on Luck's back and Keith sniggers.
"Oh very funny," the youngest grumbles, pouting on the floor. "As soon I get out of this room..."
"Let me make this very clear," Vino smiles, "If you make my little brother cry, I will kill you."
"Tch, like the pansy hasn't already?" Dallas snorts. Vino's left eye twitches. "You don't scare me," the for-all-intents-and-purposes patriarch of the Genoard family sneers.
"Oh, I know you can't die," Vino purrs, sidling up and flicking out the switchblade, as if in casual conversation between close friends. "But I know how to kill. I know how to kill and kill and kill and kill and kill." He makes the smile of a madman. Dallas swallows. "I will tell you again, just so we're clear: you are not good enough and the second you prove me right, I will make you wish you had never stolen that drink."
Dallas pushes him away, tossing his head back and laughing with wicked mirth.
"And why the fuck," he drawls, "Do you think I'm screwing your dear brother in the first place?"
Vino slugs him in the face, across the wall, but Dallas survives and -- more importantly -- wins.
-
/prompt: threats
/I flipped a coin to choose whether Dallas would be giving in or fighting back. I love adamant/rebellious characters though.
---
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Smut, Violence
Wordcount: ~1,600
Characters: Claire, Luck, Dallas, Keith, Berga
Pairings: Claire/Luck, Dallas/Luck
Summary: Dark!fic with dark!humor. The prompts are: asphyxiation, dub-con, fear, on the run, and threats.
---
01
'Please', Claire asks of him. Just once. Just once is enough.
Luck's hands are surprisingly firm -- for fingers more likely to be wrapped around novels than guns and all -- and Claire smiles, urging him on. Luck bites the bottom of his lip, squeezing down without even meaning to, and Claire sighs, lashes fluttering, lips dry, and legs locked together tight.
'How was it?', he asks after his older brother has finished cleaning himself up.
'Not bad for the first time', is the cheeky reply. 'You could stand to be a little rougher though.' It's more a compliment than a request, but Claire has always been cryptic like that.
Next time (and of course there's a next time; they haven't shared the same room for five years for nothing) Luck doesn't hesitate, pressing down and holding on tight. There's a sick pleasure bubbling in his gut: to hold the life of someone else -- to hold the life of someone he loves -- so near, so dear.
'Almost', he almost hears, and then Claire's eyes roll back.
Luck panics, and even while panicking, he knows what to do. He squeezes cartilage and smashes their mouths together, exchanging shuddering breath after breath. Finally -- though he might have been dreaming the whole thing -- Claire chokes, spit and bile and half-digested lunch all over Luck's collar.
'You reek,' he has the nerve to say.
-
/prompt: asphyxiation
/In retrospect, this prompt would work well with Claire/Chane too...
---
02
"You've gotta stop doing this to yourself," Claire sighs. Luck mumbles something or another but Claire catches a name he would rather never hear again and so he ignores the other man entirely.
"C'mon," he urges, his arm pressed tight against Luck's waist. "One step at a time. There you go. We're almost home."
Somehow, Luck stumbles on the last step and though Claire catches him, his reflexes aren't enough to stop Luck from banging his forehead against the door.
"Stop that," Claire starts, and he frowns when Luck does not.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," his younger brother repeats, and he really does look stupid: banging his head against the unlocked door while being held close like an child in the New York winter.
"You're gonna end up bleeding..." Too late, of course; there's a red meander of blood trickling down his brow and it's certain he'll have a black-and-blue bruise to show for his efforts tomorrow.
"Alright, in you go," Claire huffs, pushing open the door and lifting the other up, over, and in with a light-hearted heave. Luck chokes on what could be either sob or laugh, but Claire pays him no heed, lugging them both over to the couch.
"You already know he's no good for you," he says, hands pressed tight against Luck's clenched fists. He leans forward, lapping at the blood. After a while, Luck jerks up, peppering Claire's cheeks with needy greedy kisses.
Claire flushes and Luck winces, pulling back, and it's only after a beat that Claire realizes his fingernails had dug into skin.
"Sorry," he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Luck's mouth.
"You'll find someone someday," he promises. "And he'll make you the happiest bastard this side of the Mississippi."
-
/prompt: dub-con
/This is pretty light dub-con for me, to be honest. It was quite fun writing two characters who didn't really want it, and bloodplay is always a pleasure.
---
03
When he leaves the Gandor family for an extended period -- his first trip with the circus -- he honestly wonders if he'll see them again.
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear," Luck had once recited, "And the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
At age fifteen, Claire thinks it's a silly quote from a silly brother who's more concerned with pretty words than methods of survival. But then, at age fifteen, he'd been more concerned with making himself faster, stronger, better, than with actually surviving.
'You're not scared of anything, are you?', one of the announcers at the circus had murmured, more of a comment than a question. They hadn't lasted long -- as all awe-filled people tended to last -- but he had been flattered all the same. A compliment was a compliment after all, however incorrect.
Because here is the thing: although the world exists for his benefit, he does not have complete control over the world. Perhaps it's because he does not want it; perhaps it's because he cannot have it. Either way, things that he wouldn't wish to happen still happen.
He dreams then, in bloodlust-filled episodes less nightmarish than surreal, of their murders. In one, he opens the door to find everyone shot cleanly through the head in the dead of the night. He goes on a rampage, kills everyone responsible and then some, and wakes up satisfied with his come staining the sheets.
In another, the house has been burnt down and he's made to spend hours dragging the charred bodies from the still-smoking rubble. He lays them out neatly, Keith, Berga, and then Luck, and buries them. And then he goes on the same rampage, killing everyone responsible and then some, and wakes up satisfied again with his come staining the sheets.
In the third iteration, he comes home to a hero's welcome and wakes up in the middle of the night with bloodstained hands. He runs down the hallways screaming names and of course no one answers because he's killed them all. In this dream, he wakes up covered with sweat and shaking with pleasure and, and, and --
Wasn't this why he had left?
-
/prompt: fear
/The quote is from HP Lovecraft, who I think Luck would've read.
---
04
"I'm so bored," Vino-who-is-still-Claire groans, running a hand through grime-flecked red locks.
"You could always leave," Luck points out, just as he's been doing for the past two-to-seven days.
"Not without you," Vino replies, same as he always has. He peers this way and that, looking for a better exit, before slouching down and twirling a lock of hair. "Are you sure you can't just dodge the bullets?" he asks once again.
"We can't all be like you," is the caustic reply.
"Yeah, well, you could at least make an effort."
"I've made fifteen efforts and been blasted to pieces fifteen times." A pause. "I have no idea how your suit is still in one piece, for that matter."
"Because I'm the older brother," Vino chuckles. "I could take them out too."
"You already have. Fifteen times."
"Maybe you shouldn't let riff-raff get their hands on the elixirs, hmm?"
Luck refuses comment.
"Alright, how about this?" Vino suggests, a lightbulb going off, "We know you regenerate around your heart, so why not have me pull it out? I'll take it with me and the rest of your body can follow in the timeb it takes for me to get rid of those people."
"What? No! Look, it's just a couple more days before Keith and Berga get back. There's no sense for me to make a further mess of the restaurant when I can just wait it out."
"But I'm so bored," Vino moans, flopping against the plush carpet.
-
/prompt: on the run
/A bit different from how I originally imagined it, but I quite like how the humor turned out.
---
05
"Luck, I understand that we've put you under a lot of pressure lately but,"
"Berga, would you just calm down?" his baby brother winces. "There weren't any drugs. There wasn't any alcohol."
"Blackmail is still coercion," Keith grunts.
"I'm not being blackmailed." He purses his lips, realizing the actual problem. "Where is Vino?"
His elder brothers exchange elder brother looks.
"Oh no," Luck says, starting for the door.
"Be patient," Berga replies. His words are backed up with bulk -- his bulk, to be precise. He plants himself on Luck's back and Keith sniggers.
"Oh very funny," the youngest grumbles, pouting on the floor. "As soon I get out of this room..."
"Let me make this very clear," Vino smiles, "If you make my little brother cry, I will kill you."
"Tch, like the pansy hasn't already?" Dallas snorts. Vino's left eye twitches. "You don't scare me," the for-all-intents-and-purposes patriarch of the Genoard family sneers.
"Oh, I know you can't die," Vino purrs, sidling up and flicking out the switchblade, as if in casual conversation between close friends. "But I know how to kill. I know how to kill and kill and kill and kill and kill." He makes the smile of a madman. Dallas swallows. "I will tell you again, just so we're clear: you are not good enough and the second you prove me right, I will make you wish you had never stolen that drink."
Dallas pushes him away, tossing his head back and laughing with wicked mirth.
"And why the fuck," he drawls, "Do you think I'm screwing your dear brother in the first place?"
Vino slugs him in the face, across the wall, but Dallas survives and -- more importantly -- wins.
-
/prompt: threats
/I flipped a coin to choose whether Dallas would be giving in or fighting back. I love adamant/rebellious characters though.
---