Spark in Darkness no. 53 fic update
Jun. 10th, 2004 02:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessI realise I haven't been posting very much of this fic lately, which is weird considering it's the main one. Partly it's because faerie boys have been stealing my brain,so much so that they're even shouldering out Angel and even Generation Gap and Predator, both of whom are trying to make a come back.
Also, I'm reluctant. Darren was always no. 1 muse. I know more about him and Clan Camaalis than any of them (surprisingly little about Rick though, I'm still not happy with him). And he's going to collapse messily as always, fine, I expect that. But him without his wards (especially the ones I wrestle out of him NOT to do) is dancing in places few people are comfortable and making me question why I aren't more uncomfortable with the mental images.
Still, unpleasant self-analysis aside, here's the fic.
How to convince Darren to put some wards on? I’ll do the guilt thing later. Going to make boyfriend miserable? Yes, definitely going to do the guilt thing.
“The markings upon his skin doth contain the greatest strength.”
I glared at the cat. Yeah, I knew that, his pretty tattoos were his ultimate wards. And, yeah, he can’t take them off, so they're still there. Sounds perfect, right? His most powerful wards, most likely to return him to something approaching sanity (hey, at least he’ll stop killing things for fun, right?) Problem is, they’re not active.
“No use cat, he’s used that weird knife to turn them off. No way he’s going to turn the fucking things back on.”
“’Tis not difficult, human. The wards do demand their return. Their power cries for restoration. The cuts in his skin, the wounds upon his flesh have healed, they close.”
“That’s how he gets rid of them - he cuts them with that knife.” I hated that knife, everything about it makes every alarum bell I have scream. ‘Course, most of Darren’s magic makes the alarums ring. Of all the guys I could’ve fallen for, why do I have to go all out for the psycho sorcerer? “If the wounds have closed, shouldn’t the wards have come on-line again?”
Ok, how does the fucking cat do that? How does any fucking cat do that? They don’t have facial expressions. They can’t look at you in disgust. They just can’t. “The cutting is a mere symbol. ‘Tis the magic that needs must be reversed.”
“Any idea how?”
“No.”
“Well, we’re screwed then, aren’t we?” I think this whole conversation is just a perverse game for that cat to torture me with. Why did I ever get Darren this fucking thing? I should’ve know better, got something nicer. A rabbit or something. A gerbil? Yeah, a daemonic gerbil. At least it wouldn’t be able to glare and look superior.
“The knife is important. Thou must obtain the blade and seek ye out a magician capable of rebinding him with it.”
“This before or after I solve world hunger and bring world peace?”
“Before. The other two are hardly important.” Then the bastard left. Great, massive help that cat. I’m not saying anything about his priorities. I just aren’t.
So, here’s the plan. I steal his knife, grab some magical cronies and we recreate the wards. Simple, right? The rest’s just details.
Darren was looking out of the full wall windows. I’ve never really seen him do that before. I love them - even if it does let sunlight stream in at a completely illegal time in the morning. My old decor was all white, and the whole place just seemed to glow. Of course, I’ve had Darren round for over a year now - brief pause for, FUCK, a whole year?! Guess the people trying to kill us and the hot sex made it fly by really quickly. Darren wasn’t a major fan of the monochrome look. I always liked it, look clean and easy and it was easy to keep everything matching. Whenever I buy colour they all seem to go wrong and not match properly. Why does it look good in the shop then an utter disaster in the flat?
Now the room is still largely white, but he’s thrown in a fair bit of black and added some splashes of extreme colour; emerald green, deep sapphire blue, rich blood red, burnt umber and burnished gold. The colours are really full on and intense, he said the windows gave enough light to allow for it. In full sunlight it looks like white cloth scattered with precious gems and valuable metals. And it looks totally fucking cool. Seriously.
He’s sat on a rug before the windows, still completely naked. I had to stare, just a little. It wasn’t just him, though he is worth a stare, but where he was sat, like he’s deliberately framed himself. I think he always did; chose the right wall hanging or painting to stand next to, the right rug to lie on just to make himself look that little bit more. But before it was kind of subtle, like he did it without thinking, or he’d been trained to do it a long time ago and can’t stop, you know? Or maybe he wanted to but was too used to hiding. Yeah, I think that was it. But now? Now he was open about it, he was making himself part of the decor, or making the decor part of him. Maybe it's just how he seemed to be so much more comfortable - in his own skin. In the world - that's it, he wore the world and the room like clothes. It was all his - unquestioned, it was his... Ok, something else to add to the fucking scary list. It’s getting long.
His hair spilled out onto the mainly black rug. The full sunlight fell across him, throwing the two blacks into startling contrast. The rug was matt, standing out so dark that it seemed to eat the sunlight. It almost felt like it was pulling you gaze into it, like it was a hole more than a colour. His hair laid across it was just as dark, but this darkness repelled the light, pushed away the sun’s touch so it was a river of gleaming, shining water down his back, framing his body. But concealing nothing. His skin was always pale, but in full sunlight it shone. I did a double take to see if he was really glowing... I still wasn’t sure. It was an incredible picture in perfect monochrome. Almost. Like the room the bright colours stood out like gems. Those gleaming tattoos picked up just tiny hints of colour in the rug - like brightly coloured stars in the night sky. Green and red on his wrists, ankles and neck seeming to glint and reflect on the black beneath him. And to just finish it and drive me completely mad? The deep blue that you could barely see in the rug, only visible because of the bright direct sunlight was a near double of his eyes. And they were glowing. Fuck, what was I here again for?
Oh yes. The knife. Right. Keep focused. He had it one hand, absently rolling it across his fingers and back. It was black and silver, but no sunlight gleamed on even the shiniest metal. Seriously weird.
Then he looks at me. Bye bye focus. Come back later, Mr. Brain is gone now. Mr Libido now in control. Higher brain function been replaced by drool.
“Rick? Come, I missed you.” I let myself be drawn down next to him, squinting in the sunlight. He was so happy... No... think, Rick. Think!
“Umm... what’re you doing? You’re not normally one for sunbathing...” Eyes on the face. Fuck, his face is too pretty, eyes lower.... bad idea.
“Looking at all the pretty people out there. The teeming masses, running backwards and forwards like ants. They amuse me.” He grinned, gesturing idly out of the window. “Except that one. He annoys me.” I followed his pointing finger to sere a traffic warden was industriously filling out a ticket. I hated the fuckers too. Alright, they had to do their job, but is it just me, or do jobs like that always attract petty little Hitler wannabes?
Darren frowned still pointing at the traffic warden. “If he would take pleasure in another’s suffering eh should at least have more... more panache in the process. More... titillating. Really, what is the point of a sadist without killer dress sense and creepy style? What is the point of a sadist that cannot with a look and a smile, or maybe a few beautiful shivering words, make you want them to hurt you.... ever so slightly, deep down in the carnal recesses of your heart and the shadowed depths of your brain?”
His voice hissed across my skin, he trailed one finger idly down my hand, just tracing the thin hairs on the back, eyes still on the traffic warden... but that touch, that voice. I fucking wanted it...
“No, it really will not do.” Then I felt the power, it raised all the hairs on my body and made the metal wards I’d taken off Darren flare. At least they didn't burn me the way they burnt him. Then I saw the man convulse. Everyone turned to look at the poor guy, writhing back and forth, his mouth open in a scream I couldn’t hear. Darren just watched him writhe and scream, grinning like the fucking Chesire cat!
Then the man threw back his head... I could just see it from the distance, a lascivious grin. His writhing... changed. That wasn’t pain that was making him move like that. Oh fuck. Then the man screamed again, twisting and sobbing. I forced myself to look at the poor guy as he cried and begged silently. Then the orgasmic writing... his fingers once cramped in agony now stroking up and down his body, through his sweat stained clothes. Then the pain, the screaming the suffering. Then the pleasure, the fondling, the groaning. Then both at once. It was astonishing, he was fucking gone! Seriously, I never thought a body could move like that!
Then it stopped. He just cowered there... Shit... I thought Darren had killed him.
“Do you want it?” Darren whispered, just on the edge of hearing. I just looked at him... I really hoped I hadn’t heard him right.
“Do you want it? Do you want me to do it again?” He whispered again, his eyes never leaving the prone form.
“Do you want me to do it again?” He wasn’t talking to me...
“Do you want me to hurt you again? Do you want it?” The body out there shifted... I thought I might have imagined it.
“Do you want it?” Again that feeble shift - he was alive! I wasn’t imagining it!
“Nod or shake your head. Do you want it?” Again that shift... oh fuck. Cowering on the floor, the poor bastard nodded. He fucking nodded! Darren laughed, so loud and incredibly alien that it made my whole body shudder. It felt good...
Finally Darren’s laughter faded. And the magic began again... It looked terrible, really the worse thing I’d ever seen. I didn’t know what to think... pain, pleasure? What was it? Fuck... Just... fuck.
The man seemed barely human now... driven completely over the edge.
“Do you want me to keep going?” Another spasmodic nod. This was just sick, I do kinky, but this is over the edge.
“Do you want it harder?” Another nod. “Stronger?” A nod. “Deeper?” Nearly frantic nodding. “Hotter?” His head was jerking up and down incredibly. “Both better and worse?” His whole body moved with the nodding now, it had grown that violent. “Even if it kills you? Even to death?” The body tried to pull itself to its knees, the crowd looked on in horror. Paramedics had arrived, even they were transfixed by what they saw. I could only guess what he was saying. Actually, I’d rather not. He raised his hands , begging, head nodding frantically.
Darren smiled.
I had to look away. I can cope with blood and gore and shit, but I didn’t ever want to see a man die like that again. I never want to see another corpse with that smile on its face.
Then Darren turned to me, that perfect figure framed so amazingly gilded by the sunlight... And I wanted him. Utterly and completely. I don’t know if it was his power, my lust or love. But I wanted him. Right now.
As I reached for him, the reason hit me. Fear of loosing him. I slid my hands across that naked skin and buried my head into his hair to hide my eyes that were suddenly full of tears. Because now, after seeing that, and how much he enjoyed it... he’s dangerous. Too dangerous.
Fuck, I can’t believe this. I don’t fucking believe it!
I agree with Clan Camaalis.
Also, I'm reluctant. Darren was always no. 1 muse. I know more about him and Clan Camaalis than any of them (surprisingly little about Rick though, I'm still not happy with him). And he's going to collapse messily as always, fine, I expect that. But him without his wards (especially the ones I wrestle out of him NOT to do) is dancing in places few people are comfortable and making me question why I aren't more uncomfortable with the mental images.
Still, unpleasant self-analysis aside, here's the fic.
How to convince Darren to put some wards on? I’ll do the guilt thing later. Going to make boyfriend miserable? Yes, definitely going to do the guilt thing.
“The markings upon his skin doth contain the greatest strength.”
I glared at the cat. Yeah, I knew that, his pretty tattoos were his ultimate wards. And, yeah, he can’t take them off, so they're still there. Sounds perfect, right? His most powerful wards, most likely to return him to something approaching sanity (hey, at least he’ll stop killing things for fun, right?) Problem is, they’re not active.
“No use cat, he’s used that weird knife to turn them off. No way he’s going to turn the fucking things back on.”
“’Tis not difficult, human. The wards do demand their return. Their power cries for restoration. The cuts in his skin, the wounds upon his flesh have healed, they close.”
“That’s how he gets rid of them - he cuts them with that knife.” I hated that knife, everything about it makes every alarum bell I have scream. ‘Course, most of Darren’s magic makes the alarums ring. Of all the guys I could’ve fallen for, why do I have to go all out for the psycho sorcerer? “If the wounds have closed, shouldn’t the wards have come on-line again?”
Ok, how does the fucking cat do that? How does any fucking cat do that? They don’t have facial expressions. They can’t look at you in disgust. They just can’t. “The cutting is a mere symbol. ‘Tis the magic that needs must be reversed.”
“Any idea how?”
“No.”
“Well, we’re screwed then, aren’t we?” I think this whole conversation is just a perverse game for that cat to torture me with. Why did I ever get Darren this fucking thing? I should’ve know better, got something nicer. A rabbit or something. A gerbil? Yeah, a daemonic gerbil. At least it wouldn’t be able to glare and look superior.
“The knife is important. Thou must obtain the blade and seek ye out a magician capable of rebinding him with it.”
“This before or after I solve world hunger and bring world peace?”
“Before. The other two are hardly important.” Then the bastard left. Great, massive help that cat. I’m not saying anything about his priorities. I just aren’t.
So, here’s the plan. I steal his knife, grab some magical cronies and we recreate the wards. Simple, right? The rest’s just details.
Darren was looking out of the full wall windows. I’ve never really seen him do that before. I love them - even if it does let sunlight stream in at a completely illegal time in the morning. My old decor was all white, and the whole place just seemed to glow. Of course, I’ve had Darren round for over a year now - brief pause for, FUCK, a whole year?! Guess the people trying to kill us and the hot sex made it fly by really quickly. Darren wasn’t a major fan of the monochrome look. I always liked it, look clean and easy and it was easy to keep everything matching. Whenever I buy colour they all seem to go wrong and not match properly. Why does it look good in the shop then an utter disaster in the flat?
Now the room is still largely white, but he’s thrown in a fair bit of black and added some splashes of extreme colour; emerald green, deep sapphire blue, rich blood red, burnt umber and burnished gold. The colours are really full on and intense, he said the windows gave enough light to allow for it. In full sunlight it looks like white cloth scattered with precious gems and valuable metals. And it looks totally fucking cool. Seriously.
He’s sat on a rug before the windows, still completely naked. I had to stare, just a little. It wasn’t just him, though he is worth a stare, but where he was sat, like he’s deliberately framed himself. I think he always did; chose the right wall hanging or painting to stand next to, the right rug to lie on just to make himself look that little bit more. But before it was kind of subtle, like he did it without thinking, or he’d been trained to do it a long time ago and can’t stop, you know? Or maybe he wanted to but was too used to hiding. Yeah, I think that was it. But now? Now he was open about it, he was making himself part of the decor, or making the decor part of him. Maybe it's just how he seemed to be so much more comfortable - in his own skin. In the world - that's it, he wore the world and the room like clothes. It was all his - unquestioned, it was his... Ok, something else to add to the fucking scary list. It’s getting long.
His hair spilled out onto the mainly black rug. The full sunlight fell across him, throwing the two blacks into startling contrast. The rug was matt, standing out so dark that it seemed to eat the sunlight. It almost felt like it was pulling you gaze into it, like it was a hole more than a colour. His hair laid across it was just as dark, but this darkness repelled the light, pushed away the sun’s touch so it was a river of gleaming, shining water down his back, framing his body. But concealing nothing. His skin was always pale, but in full sunlight it shone. I did a double take to see if he was really glowing... I still wasn’t sure. It was an incredible picture in perfect monochrome. Almost. Like the room the bright colours stood out like gems. Those gleaming tattoos picked up just tiny hints of colour in the rug - like brightly coloured stars in the night sky. Green and red on his wrists, ankles and neck seeming to glint and reflect on the black beneath him. And to just finish it and drive me completely mad? The deep blue that you could barely see in the rug, only visible because of the bright direct sunlight was a near double of his eyes. And they were glowing. Fuck, what was I here again for?
Oh yes. The knife. Right. Keep focused. He had it one hand, absently rolling it across his fingers and back. It was black and silver, but no sunlight gleamed on even the shiniest metal. Seriously weird.
Then he looks at me. Bye bye focus. Come back later, Mr. Brain is gone now. Mr Libido now in control. Higher brain function been replaced by drool.
“Rick? Come, I missed you.” I let myself be drawn down next to him, squinting in the sunlight. He was so happy... No... think, Rick. Think!
“Umm... what’re you doing? You’re not normally one for sunbathing...” Eyes on the face. Fuck, his face is too pretty, eyes lower.... bad idea.
“Looking at all the pretty people out there. The teeming masses, running backwards and forwards like ants. They amuse me.” He grinned, gesturing idly out of the window. “Except that one. He annoys me.” I followed his pointing finger to sere a traffic warden was industriously filling out a ticket. I hated the fuckers too. Alright, they had to do their job, but is it just me, or do jobs like that always attract petty little Hitler wannabes?
Darren frowned still pointing at the traffic warden. “If he would take pleasure in another’s suffering eh should at least have more... more panache in the process. More... titillating. Really, what is the point of a sadist without killer dress sense and creepy style? What is the point of a sadist that cannot with a look and a smile, or maybe a few beautiful shivering words, make you want them to hurt you.... ever so slightly, deep down in the carnal recesses of your heart and the shadowed depths of your brain?”
His voice hissed across my skin, he trailed one finger idly down my hand, just tracing the thin hairs on the back, eyes still on the traffic warden... but that touch, that voice. I fucking wanted it...
“No, it really will not do.” Then I felt the power, it raised all the hairs on my body and made the metal wards I’d taken off Darren flare. At least they didn't burn me the way they burnt him. Then I saw the man convulse. Everyone turned to look at the poor guy, writhing back and forth, his mouth open in a scream I couldn’t hear. Darren just watched him writhe and scream, grinning like the fucking Chesire cat!
Then the man threw back his head... I could just see it from the distance, a lascivious grin. His writhing... changed. That wasn’t pain that was making him move like that. Oh fuck. Then the man screamed again, twisting and sobbing. I forced myself to look at the poor guy as he cried and begged silently. Then the orgasmic writing... his fingers once cramped in agony now stroking up and down his body, through his sweat stained clothes. Then the pain, the screaming the suffering. Then the pleasure, the fondling, the groaning. Then both at once. It was astonishing, he was fucking gone! Seriously, I never thought a body could move like that!
Then it stopped. He just cowered there... Shit... I thought Darren had killed him.
“Do you want it?” Darren whispered, just on the edge of hearing. I just looked at him... I really hoped I hadn’t heard him right.
“Do you want it? Do you want me to do it again?” He whispered again, his eyes never leaving the prone form.
“Do you want me to do it again?” He wasn’t talking to me...
“Do you want me to hurt you again? Do you want it?” The body out there shifted... I thought I might have imagined it.
“Do you want it?” Again that feeble shift - he was alive! I wasn’t imagining it!
“Nod or shake your head. Do you want it?” Again that shift... oh fuck. Cowering on the floor, the poor bastard nodded. He fucking nodded! Darren laughed, so loud and incredibly alien that it made my whole body shudder. It felt good...
Finally Darren’s laughter faded. And the magic began again... It looked terrible, really the worse thing I’d ever seen. I didn’t know what to think... pain, pleasure? What was it? Fuck... Just... fuck.
The man seemed barely human now... driven completely over the edge.
“Do you want me to keep going?” Another spasmodic nod. This was just sick, I do kinky, but this is over the edge.
“Do you want it harder?” Another nod. “Stronger?” A nod. “Deeper?” Nearly frantic nodding. “Hotter?” His head was jerking up and down incredibly. “Both better and worse?” His whole body moved with the nodding now, it had grown that violent. “Even if it kills you? Even to death?” The body tried to pull itself to its knees, the crowd looked on in horror. Paramedics had arrived, even they were transfixed by what they saw. I could only guess what he was saying. Actually, I’d rather not. He raised his hands , begging, head nodding frantically.
Darren smiled.
I had to look away. I can cope with blood and gore and shit, but I didn’t ever want to see a man die like that again. I never want to see another corpse with that smile on its face.
Then Darren turned to me, that perfect figure framed so amazingly gilded by the sunlight... And I wanted him. Utterly and completely. I don’t know if it was his power, my lust or love. But I wanted him. Right now.
As I reached for him, the reason hit me. Fear of loosing him. I slid my hands across that naked skin and buried my head into his hair to hide my eyes that were suddenly full of tears. Because now, after seeing that, and how much he enjoyed it... he’s dangerous. Too dangerous.
Fuck, I can’t believe this. I don’t fucking believe it!
I agree with Clan Camaalis.