Week Two, Final Session
Pairing: Percy/Lucius
Word Count: 299
Rating: R
Scenario: Why Percy really went bad, and ignored his family for oh-so long.
A/N: Rating for imagery, I suppose - there's blood/gore in the form of vampirism and a partial stigmata...yes, stigmata. Oh, damn, I don't know...
Percy can still remember being young and not-quite-dumb as he twirled around breathless on his front lawn, five years old and trying not to look down at the ground swirling beneath him as he stopped.
It's somewhat similar to the feeling now, as Lucius twirls him around the ballroom in Malfoy Manor, the blood on Percy's left forearm rivaled only by the blood soaked into Lucius' pale palms, and when Lucius stops the quick-timed waltz he pulls his hands away and Percy swears he sees partial stigmata, nailmarks in Lucius' hands. The blood pools in Lucius' palms before dripping straight through onto the floor, and Lucius smiles and lowers his head to drink.
Percy is amazed at the way the blood is lapped up from one hand, some clinging to reside on Lucius' pale, thin lips. Lucius' tongue, now stained red, slips through the hole in his hand easily, cleaning the wound quickly only to have more blood seep in. It's a never-ending cycle that makes Percy sick and holds Percy captive, all at the same time.
Lucius looks up at Percy, cherry-red lips pulling back to reveal slightly pointed teeth, slightly red from the blood. Percy has almost succeeded in telling himself that the red is nothing but juice from the strawberries Percy had when he was five years old and life was simple when Lucius reaches out a slick hand that reeks of copper.
Percy drinks obediently, allowing himself to gorge on blood. The flow is fascinating and adheres not to logic, nor to anything magical Percy has ever experienced.
Percy pulls away, suddenly full, suddenly sick, then clings to Lucius, closing his eyes.
"You've chosen the world," Lucius says, wiping his hands miraculously clean on a white handkerchief, "and it's something you'll have to see...to believe..."
Word Count: 299
Rating: R
Scenario: Why Percy really went bad, and ignored his family for oh-so long.
A/N: Rating for imagery, I suppose - there's blood/gore in the form of vampirism and a partial stigmata...yes, stigmata. Oh, damn, I don't know...
Percy can still remember being young and not-quite-dumb as he twirled around breathless on his front lawn, five years old and trying not to look down at the ground swirling beneath him as he stopped.
It's somewhat similar to the feeling now, as Lucius twirls him around the ballroom in Malfoy Manor, the blood on Percy's left forearm rivaled only by the blood soaked into Lucius' pale palms, and when Lucius stops the quick-timed waltz he pulls his hands away and Percy swears he sees partial stigmata, nailmarks in Lucius' hands. The blood pools in Lucius' palms before dripping straight through onto the floor, and Lucius smiles and lowers his head to drink.
Percy is amazed at the way the blood is lapped up from one hand, some clinging to reside on Lucius' pale, thin lips. Lucius' tongue, now stained red, slips through the hole in his hand easily, cleaning the wound quickly only to have more blood seep in. It's a never-ending cycle that makes Percy sick and holds Percy captive, all at the same time.
Lucius looks up at Percy, cherry-red lips pulling back to reveal slightly pointed teeth, slightly red from the blood. Percy has almost succeeded in telling himself that the red is nothing but juice from the strawberries Percy had when he was five years old and life was simple when Lucius reaches out a slick hand that reeks of copper.
Percy drinks obediently, allowing himself to gorge on blood. The flow is fascinating and adheres not to logic, nor to anything magical Percy has ever experienced.
Percy pulls away, suddenly full, suddenly sick, then clings to Lucius, closing his eyes.
"You've chosen the world," Lucius says, wiping his hands miraculously clean on a white handkerchief, "and it's something you'll have to see...to believe..."