A Meeting of Chance Chapt. 10
Title: A Meeting of Chance
Chapter 10
Author: desire_billy
Pairing: meyerwood (Jonathan Rhys Meyers/Elijah Wood)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I lie often. This is just for fun.
Summary: AU. This chapter from JRM’s POV
Rapture: a mystical experience in which the spirit is exalted to a knowledge of divine things
The feeling of having Elijah inside me - again, for the first time was rapture. Our bodies fit so well, we are made for one another. I let my mind and body go, gave them back to him after all these years. I stopped trying to understand why or how I knew him, how I knew how this would feel and why I craved to have him inside me again yet had just met him.
The memories of a past that is not mine gives way to pure pleasure. I know how to move to make him shudder, he knows how to take me, how to touch me, when to slow down or when to slam into me. His hand so strongly gripping the base of my cock holding my orgasm off so long till I beg him to let me cum, beg him to cum inside me.
Lying here in his arms, both of our bodies sated, my mind has begun to search for some kind of explanation. I watch my fingers trace the hair on his stomach that leads to the base of his soft cock now lazily laying over onto his creamy white thigh. Slowly my long fingers trace his flaccid member and I hear his breath catch.
“Brandy… so insatiable. I have not lain with another in over 75 years, I believe I may finally match your sexual appetite.”
Looking up at him my eyes wide, “75 years! What have - oh, oh yes, oh - God…”
A memory of fear, pain and - longing hits me hard. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I can feel his presence, but when I turn he is not there. When I feel him near me it is too late, he has my hair in his fist, my head back… my neck exposed to the blade. NO, please no!
Elijah’s hands on my shoulders, his forceful shaking of my body has snapped me out of the painful memory. I grip his arms tightly; “He was too fast for me, for me! My last thoughts were of you Whiskey, oh my love - I knew, I could feel my life leaving,” I’m sobbing now fully lost to the memory, “my soul - oh no, no, no!”
Trembling I sob uncontrollably. His strong arms around me, soothing words falling over his perfect lips, but the haunting memories of the pain, the lost feeling, the torment - oh God the anguish….
“You are safe now Brandy, you are here! You are real - and I am here! It is my fault that you - that he took you from me! I should never have left you alone - oh my love we knew - oh my love I am to blame for your pain.”
“He is still alive Whiskey! I can feel him! If he finds out - he will search for me! You suffered so much Elijah - I can not let you suffer again!”
Clutching each other tightly we soothe and caress one another, reassuring the other of our love and safety. It is some time before we are both calm enough to lay down again and hold one another. Slowly I slip into a disturbed sleep, images of the past filtering in….
~*~
“Go my love, I am fine. With my skills, he does not stand a chance!”
Laughing I place my hand on Elijah’s shoulder, “Remember what the old woman told us… he seeks revenge but not in the means of his own. I will slay him before he sees the edge of my sword.”
Hesitantly Elijah agrees to go to his beloved town meeting. I find them rather boorish, but my love has always had such caring thoughts for his community. After moving so many times over the past 200 years, community is just another passing moment in time for me.
Sitting by the fireplace writing music and humming the chorus I sip a glass of the wine my love and I harvested so many years ago. Leaning back I close my eyes and remember those carefree years in France. The land was so open and lush, the many horse rides to our special spot in the meadow where we would make love for hours. Lost in my memories of the masquerade balls we would host I do not sense his presence until he is upon me.
Gripping my sword tightly in my hand I open my eyes. I do see him, but I can smell him. Werewolves have a distinct odor, an unpleasant pungent foulness. A mere human would be unable to smell it, but I - our kind possessing a keen sense of smell - could almost choke on it.
I tap the tip of my sword on my shoe, “Viggo - your malodorous scent announces your presence before the sound of your graceless footage even has a chance.”
His menacing growl makes me laugh as I swiftly stand. Holding the sword at my ready, I look for him. His disgusting presence is all around me, but I know his methods - this is not our first meeting.
“Come now Viggo, why hide from an old friend?”
His voice booms from my left, “You are no friend,” then my right; “you are a murderer! And shall have my revenge! You can not stop me this time Rhys!”
My head spinning from one side to another; I back up brandishing my sword, “Have learned new tricks have you? But these parlor tricks will only be the death of you… besides… your lover was a wretched man. Only his music,” I look to my right but see nothing but shadows from my own form, “was worth saving. Hence why I,” looking to the left, again only my own shadow, “consumed his soul.”
I spin and look behind me when I hear his noxious laugh but see nothing, “Come play Viggo… I’ll let you kiss me before your last breath, perhaps you will taste him on me.”
The laugh in my throat is choked when I feel a strong grip on my neck. His sickening odor making my stomach turn, his scalding breath on my cheek, his hulking body pressed against my back. His other hand crushing mine as I squeeze the handle of my sword, long filthy nails digging into my pale skin, “I will taste you as you die!”
His hand leaves my neck but in a flash he has a fistful of my long hair and is pulling my head back. I feel his other hand raise my own sword to my throat. I frantically try to fight him. With my free hand I try to extract his hand from mine, kicking at his feet and legs, even trying to reach back and claw his eyes. But he only laughs as the swords rise continues slowly to my neck.
“Thinking of your lover are you, thinking of how he will have to exist without you? I can tell you,” his voice filled with malice, “it will eat away at his very soul! He will never be whole again!”
My thoughts are indeed with my love. His beautiful face, his talented hands, his eyes so full of love for me... my last conscious thought being of his perfect lips mouthing his love for me. I can feel the blade slice through my skin, I can even hear it shave through my spine… then a feeling of confusion, of being lost. My soul - not having been consumed - lingers over my body.
I watch in chilled silence as he licks the sword and my head falls to the floor, rolling to a stop at my chair before the fireplace. Unable to look away I am subject to watch him bite and tear into my body, blood covering him. My body dismembered in his frenzy I feel the pain, but am unable to stop it. Only when he runs away do I feel my soul resting on the floor beside my bloodied remains.
Then I hear the door open, and watch in horror as Elijah enters the room. The devastation and pain on his face, the cry of anguish from his lips, the way he gathered my severed head in his hands and sobbed, holding it to his bosom. Being so close to him, but unable to let him know, unable to comfort him I was forced to watch my death tear him apart..
In that room my soul was imprisoned until Whiskey moved, five years after my death. I watched as he slowly tried to kill himself with liquor and heartache. Unable to cry out, unable to let out my sorrow, I wallowed in our misery. Day after day I sat with my love unable to comfort him watching him ache for me, vowing to kill Viggo, but unable to find the energy through the haze of booze and tears.
When he could no longer stand the sight of our home, he bought a large home in New Orleans. On the day he left, it was a release of my soul, but only to a deeper and darker hell. It felt as if I was being ripped from his hold, screaming and begging the invisible force tearing me from him to leave me with him.
It was at that moment that I believe he felt me. Screaming for him I swore I would return to him, I would find a way. His eyes pierced my presence; his lips parted and he softly said, “Brandy... I will wait for you...”
tbc
Chapter 10
Author: desire_billy
Pairing: meyerwood (Jonathan Rhys Meyers/Elijah Wood)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I lie often. This is just for fun.
Summary: AU. This chapter from JRM’s POV
Rapture: a mystical experience in which the spirit is exalted to a knowledge of divine things
The feeling of having Elijah inside me - again, for the first time was rapture. Our bodies fit so well, we are made for one another. I let my mind and body go, gave them back to him after all these years. I stopped trying to understand why or how I knew him, how I knew how this would feel and why I craved to have him inside me again yet had just met him.
The memories of a past that is not mine gives way to pure pleasure. I know how to move to make him shudder, he knows how to take me, how to touch me, when to slow down or when to slam into me. His hand so strongly gripping the base of my cock holding my orgasm off so long till I beg him to let me cum, beg him to cum inside me.
Lying here in his arms, both of our bodies sated, my mind has begun to search for some kind of explanation. I watch my fingers trace the hair on his stomach that leads to the base of his soft cock now lazily laying over onto his creamy white thigh. Slowly my long fingers trace his flaccid member and I hear his breath catch.
“Brandy… so insatiable. I have not lain with another in over 75 years, I believe I may finally match your sexual appetite.”
Looking up at him my eyes wide, “75 years! What have - oh, oh yes, oh - God…”
A memory of fear, pain and - longing hits me hard. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I can feel his presence, but when I turn he is not there. When I feel him near me it is too late, he has my hair in his fist, my head back… my neck exposed to the blade. NO, please no!
Elijah’s hands on my shoulders, his forceful shaking of my body has snapped me out of the painful memory. I grip his arms tightly; “He was too fast for me, for me! My last thoughts were of you Whiskey, oh my love - I knew, I could feel my life leaving,” I’m sobbing now fully lost to the memory, “my soul - oh no, no, no!”
Trembling I sob uncontrollably. His strong arms around me, soothing words falling over his perfect lips, but the haunting memories of the pain, the lost feeling, the torment - oh God the anguish….
“You are safe now Brandy, you are here! You are real - and I am here! It is my fault that you - that he took you from me! I should never have left you alone - oh my love we knew - oh my love I am to blame for your pain.”
“He is still alive Whiskey! I can feel him! If he finds out - he will search for me! You suffered so much Elijah - I can not let you suffer again!”
Clutching each other tightly we soothe and caress one another, reassuring the other of our love and safety. It is some time before we are both calm enough to lay down again and hold one another. Slowly I slip into a disturbed sleep, images of the past filtering in….
~*~
“Go my love, I am fine. With my skills, he does not stand a chance!”
Laughing I place my hand on Elijah’s shoulder, “Remember what the old woman told us… he seeks revenge but not in the means of his own. I will slay him before he sees the edge of my sword.”
Hesitantly Elijah agrees to go to his beloved town meeting. I find them rather boorish, but my love has always had such caring thoughts for his community. After moving so many times over the past 200 years, community is just another passing moment in time for me.
Sitting by the fireplace writing music and humming the chorus I sip a glass of the wine my love and I harvested so many years ago. Leaning back I close my eyes and remember those carefree years in France. The land was so open and lush, the many horse rides to our special spot in the meadow where we would make love for hours. Lost in my memories of the masquerade balls we would host I do not sense his presence until he is upon me.
Gripping my sword tightly in my hand I open my eyes. I do see him, but I can smell him. Werewolves have a distinct odor, an unpleasant pungent foulness. A mere human would be unable to smell it, but I - our kind possessing a keen sense of smell - could almost choke on it.
I tap the tip of my sword on my shoe, “Viggo - your malodorous scent announces your presence before the sound of your graceless footage even has a chance.”
His menacing growl makes me laugh as I swiftly stand. Holding the sword at my ready, I look for him. His disgusting presence is all around me, but I know his methods - this is not our first meeting.
“Come now Viggo, why hide from an old friend?”
His voice booms from my left, “You are no friend,” then my right; “you are a murderer! And shall have my revenge! You can not stop me this time Rhys!”
My head spinning from one side to another; I back up brandishing my sword, “Have learned new tricks have you? But these parlor tricks will only be the death of you… besides… your lover was a wretched man. Only his music,” I look to my right but see nothing but shadows from my own form, “was worth saving. Hence why I,” looking to the left, again only my own shadow, “consumed his soul.”
I spin and look behind me when I hear his noxious laugh but see nothing, “Come play Viggo… I’ll let you kiss me before your last breath, perhaps you will taste him on me.”
The laugh in my throat is choked when I feel a strong grip on my neck. His sickening odor making my stomach turn, his scalding breath on my cheek, his hulking body pressed against my back. His other hand crushing mine as I squeeze the handle of my sword, long filthy nails digging into my pale skin, “I will taste you as you die!”
His hand leaves my neck but in a flash he has a fistful of my long hair and is pulling my head back. I feel his other hand raise my own sword to my throat. I frantically try to fight him. With my free hand I try to extract his hand from mine, kicking at his feet and legs, even trying to reach back and claw his eyes. But he only laughs as the swords rise continues slowly to my neck.
“Thinking of your lover are you, thinking of how he will have to exist without you? I can tell you,” his voice filled with malice, “it will eat away at his very soul! He will never be whole again!”
My thoughts are indeed with my love. His beautiful face, his talented hands, his eyes so full of love for me... my last conscious thought being of his perfect lips mouthing his love for me. I can feel the blade slice through my skin, I can even hear it shave through my spine… then a feeling of confusion, of being lost. My soul - not having been consumed - lingers over my body.
I watch in chilled silence as he licks the sword and my head falls to the floor, rolling to a stop at my chair before the fireplace. Unable to look away I am subject to watch him bite and tear into my body, blood covering him. My body dismembered in his frenzy I feel the pain, but am unable to stop it. Only when he runs away do I feel my soul resting on the floor beside my bloodied remains.
Then I hear the door open, and watch in horror as Elijah enters the room. The devastation and pain on his face, the cry of anguish from his lips, the way he gathered my severed head in his hands and sobbed, holding it to his bosom. Being so close to him, but unable to let him know, unable to comfort him I was forced to watch my death tear him apart..
In that room my soul was imprisoned until Whiskey moved, five years after my death. I watched as he slowly tried to kill himself with liquor and heartache. Unable to cry out, unable to let out my sorrow, I wallowed in our misery. Day after day I sat with my love unable to comfort him watching him ache for me, vowing to kill Viggo, but unable to find the energy through the haze of booze and tears.
When he could no longer stand the sight of our home, he bought a large home in New Orleans. On the day he left, it was a release of my soul, but only to a deeper and darker hell. It felt as if I was being ripped from his hold, screaming and begging the invisible force tearing me from him to leave me with him.
It was at that moment that I believe he felt me. Screaming for him I swore I would return to him, I would find a way. His eyes pierced my presence; his lips parted and he softly said, “Brandy... I will wait for you...”
tbc