Agnus Dei
folder
Vampire › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,472
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Vampire › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,472
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is fake smut. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter Four
Author: Doreiku
Warnings: Slash, MYSTERY of the scary man, hinted incest/rape (though aren\'t we used to that already?) historical fallacies
Rating: NC-17
Summary: 1910, New York. James, despite many fears concerning the men in his life, grudgingly accepted Balaur\'s job invitation. Although the occupation does take him away from Edmon, living with Balaur may be worse than being violated by his father... But for what reason?
Traveling to Balaur\'s house was an epic journey. The man had purchased a house on the very limits of town, about four miles away. Supposedly surrounded by forest and wild animals, it was a dangerous place to travel to in the day light. However, with black clouds swirling dangerously overhead, sprinkling rain every now and then, blotting out the sun completely as night ascended, this was not a safe place.
After over an hour and a half of walking in silence, James stood before the most destructed house he had ever seen. Window panes beat the house with the wind, paint chipped so badly it looked like a dark blob against the forest. As they walked closer, James noticed several shingles had fallen off, laying on rotted grass. The steps leading to the main door creaked, almost snapping, under their weight.
Balaur held the homely door open, James entered the shack of a house. However he was surprised when he stepped inside. The decrepit outside had nothing to do with the interior. Furnished with the latest lamps and paintings, the house was very modern. It was a mansion inside; vases sat on tables made of mahogany, lightly polished to bring out the true wood color. Inside the kitchen sat a table, carved with ornate designs, and one chair of the same manufacture. There was no icebox. No cabinets.
No food.
"You must not eat at home much..." James muttered to himself. The man next to him overheard and chuckled.
"I eat here when I must."
Balaur lured him up a set of delicate, yet sturdy, stairs. There were three doors on this level. One, he assumed, was a bathroom. The man opened the second door on the left, revealing a room consecrated to music. A grand piano set in the middle, various sheets of music strewn around in a mess. "Cleaning is not my forte." Balaur chuckled once more and led him to the very last door.
One bed. That was the essence of the room. Balaur\'s room. Nothing else resided in the room, besides a sole candelabrum. No windows, black walls, blood red satin sheets decorated the bed, and held a sense that no one actually slept there.
"This is my bedroom." Balaur\'s voice echoed through the room. A cold shiver worked its way down James\' spine. "Sadly, I do not have a guest room prepared. This will be our room."
"We\'re sharing a bed? I already told you I\'m not having sex with you."
"I have already agreed."
James grumbled under his breath, though every word was heard by Balaur, and set into a stream of questions, "What\'s this job entail? What am I supposed to do?"
"Clean. I would also like to know the town better, so perhaps an excursion or two."
"You don\'t want..." James stuttered off, surprised that the man didn\'t expect anything else. Not that he would be willing. It made him feel a bit unwanted, "Isn\'t it going to be awkward living with another man?"
"No. In fact you are quite welcome. I have not had company for a very long time." Balaur directed to the room before them, "I believe you should retire for tonight."
James eyed the man warily, suspicious of sleeping in this room.
"I will sleep downstairs for your comfort. My day starts early, I expect yours to as well." Balaur descended the stairs, leaving James to his lonesome. He quickly scanned the room for anything skeptical and, finding it bare of scandalous items, retreated to the bed.
James couldn\'t stop his mind from wandering down stairs... to the man resting there. Feeling the vastness of what he agreed to, the teen prayed silently for his mother, forgetting momentarily of her and the man he left her with. Would she be forced into the same things he had? How would she feel being violated by her son?
These thoughts sent his mind into a maelstrom. His precious mother. He left her alone to fend for herself. The man she fought none other than her husband, a rapist and Devil. Alexander, nothing more than a replica. Her screams and begging meant nothing. There was nothing to do except take her place.
James didn\'t want to go back. He just got free. No longer would he have to clench his teeth and bear the mark of sin. Maybe it was selfish. But he did not want to return. Tears burned his eyes as sobs poured from his mouth. Instantly that infamous burning kindled and sent him into a heralding fit.
He wished to yell, at least for help if not just to voice his pain, though every attempt ended with choking and spewing up more blood. His body ached, clinging to the bedsheets- the only thing tangible, while giving violent spasms with every cough. James gasped for nonexistent air, feeling his lungs revolt against him.
Through the haze of pain and anguish, James felt strong arms lift him... And two dull pinpricks penetrate his inner wrist. The numbing sensation crawled over his skin and inside his lungs, a wonderful, peaceful warmth, and then black velvet encased him.
Balaur sat beside James, still cradling his body, wiping the urge away. He was helping.
He wasn\'t a monster.
-
A/N
Hope you enjoyed!
Warnings: Slash, MYSTERY of the scary man, hinted incest/rape (though aren\'t we used to that already?) historical fallacies
Rating: NC-17
Summary: 1910, New York. James, despite many fears concerning the men in his life, grudgingly accepted Balaur\'s job invitation. Although the occupation does take him away from Edmon, living with Balaur may be worse than being violated by his father... But for what reason?
Traveling to Balaur\'s house was an epic journey. The man had purchased a house on the very limits of town, about four miles away. Supposedly surrounded by forest and wild animals, it was a dangerous place to travel to in the day light. However, with black clouds swirling dangerously overhead, sprinkling rain every now and then, blotting out the sun completely as night ascended, this was not a safe place.
After over an hour and a half of walking in silence, James stood before the most destructed house he had ever seen. Window panes beat the house with the wind, paint chipped so badly it looked like a dark blob against the forest. As they walked closer, James noticed several shingles had fallen off, laying on rotted grass. The steps leading to the main door creaked, almost snapping, under their weight.
Balaur held the homely door open, James entered the shack of a house. However he was surprised when he stepped inside. The decrepit outside had nothing to do with the interior. Furnished with the latest lamps and paintings, the house was very modern. It was a mansion inside; vases sat on tables made of mahogany, lightly polished to bring out the true wood color. Inside the kitchen sat a table, carved with ornate designs, and one chair of the same manufacture. There was no icebox. No cabinets.
No food.
"You must not eat at home much..." James muttered to himself. The man next to him overheard and chuckled.
"I eat here when I must."
Balaur lured him up a set of delicate, yet sturdy, stairs. There were three doors on this level. One, he assumed, was a bathroom. The man opened the second door on the left, revealing a room consecrated to music. A grand piano set in the middle, various sheets of music strewn around in a mess. "Cleaning is not my forte." Balaur chuckled once more and led him to the very last door.
One bed. That was the essence of the room. Balaur\'s room. Nothing else resided in the room, besides a sole candelabrum. No windows, black walls, blood red satin sheets decorated the bed, and held a sense that no one actually slept there.
"This is my bedroom." Balaur\'s voice echoed through the room. A cold shiver worked its way down James\' spine. "Sadly, I do not have a guest room prepared. This will be our room."
"We\'re sharing a bed? I already told you I\'m not having sex with you."
"I have already agreed."
James grumbled under his breath, though every word was heard by Balaur, and set into a stream of questions, "What\'s this job entail? What am I supposed to do?"
"Clean. I would also like to know the town better, so perhaps an excursion or two."
"You don\'t want..." James stuttered off, surprised that the man didn\'t expect anything else. Not that he would be willing. It made him feel a bit unwanted, "Isn\'t it going to be awkward living with another man?"
"No. In fact you are quite welcome. I have not had company for a very long time." Balaur directed to the room before them, "I believe you should retire for tonight."
James eyed the man warily, suspicious of sleeping in this room.
"I will sleep downstairs for your comfort. My day starts early, I expect yours to as well." Balaur descended the stairs, leaving James to his lonesome. He quickly scanned the room for anything skeptical and, finding it bare of scandalous items, retreated to the bed.
James couldn\'t stop his mind from wandering down stairs... to the man resting there. Feeling the vastness of what he agreed to, the teen prayed silently for his mother, forgetting momentarily of her and the man he left her with. Would she be forced into the same things he had? How would she feel being violated by her son?
These thoughts sent his mind into a maelstrom. His precious mother. He left her alone to fend for herself. The man she fought none other than her husband, a rapist and Devil. Alexander, nothing more than a replica. Her screams and begging meant nothing. There was nothing to do except take her place.
James didn\'t want to go back. He just got free. No longer would he have to clench his teeth and bear the mark of sin. Maybe it was selfish. But he did not want to return. Tears burned his eyes as sobs poured from his mouth. Instantly that infamous burning kindled and sent him into a heralding fit.
He wished to yell, at least for help if not just to voice his pain, though every attempt ended with choking and spewing up more blood. His body ached, clinging to the bedsheets- the only thing tangible, while giving violent spasms with every cough. James gasped for nonexistent air, feeling his lungs revolt against him.
Through the haze of pain and anguish, James felt strong arms lift him... And two dull pinpricks penetrate his inner wrist. The numbing sensation crawled over his skin and inside his lungs, a wonderful, peaceful warmth, and then black velvet encased him.
Balaur sat beside James, still cradling his body, wiping the urge away. He was helping.
He wasn\'t a monster.
-
A/N
Hope you enjoyed!