Souls

Title: Souls [Comissioned Fic]
Author: The Letter D (Travels under many names though)
Pairing: Marrk Ravenn (Origional) and Paris (Origional)
Warnings: Yaoi, Lemon, Blood, Snuff. If you\'ve read things I\'ve writbefobefore, you know what to expect. If not, well, I\'ve got a style all my own. Heh.
Notes: Anyone wanting to archive this story must ask fist. I\'d actually like to avoid other people archiving anything with Ravenn involved due to legal reasons that may crop up later.
Betareader: Lipstickat

----

\"Mmm, aahh, that\'s nice. And a little of this, and- Oh, one of those too. My, aren\'t you a little darling?\"

The soft murmurings from the darkened house were all that broke the murky silence of the night. The bedroom window open to the night sky and the bright crescent moon adorning the glimmering garden of stars it called home. A sweet smelling summer breeze pressing through the thin curtains, sending them fluttering slowly across the floor. Rays of moonlight casting celestial footsteps across the floor and on the foot of the bed, revealing still human feet.

Upon the bed, the human lay, arms crossed over her chest and looking so divine, despite laying in a pool of her own blood. Throat so simply and causally slit and expression pulled back into one final look of grieving pain. Violet hair spread around her head like some technicolor halo, shimmering with lost memories of the stars that had caught his interest in the first place.

Now he was hunched over a small desk of sorts, covered with little boxes and bowls of powers and salves, nail polish and clasps of makeup. Mind, he wasn\'t paying much attention to these but rather, the jewellery box pilfered from one of its drawers. Cooing and adoring the extra bounty of gems he could sell off later for better equipment and toys.

In one hand he held a globe like jar which could twist in its middle and come undone like a child\'s Easter egg. Inside was the dim and whispery tune of a lost soul. The soul taken with this jar and the little device within from the human who had been so resistant to giving it up. And now it was his, to do with it as he pleased. To be sold and bargained for, or merely taken home to add to his collection.

\"And you, and you, and.. Hmm, just one more. Say, is that a garnet? Ahh, lovely,\" he cooed and slipped the last gem into his little satchel at his waist. Once an angel and now barred to forever walk the earth for habits he was rather fond of, he still had hold upon the \'perfect\'
angelic body even if his wings were now shrivelled and turned to reddish pink leathers and horns curling out from his blond-orange locks. No scars yet adorned his body as he needed its purity to lure in his prey.

Paris, as was his designated name of some forgotten age or another, pushed away from the desk and pilfered drawers, satchel full of pretties and his soul firmly gripped in one hand, pranced in a childish manner up along to the window in which he\'d first arrived. He glanced back once to the dame on the bed and just laughed. It had all been so ridiculously simple. \"Mortals. Hah!\"

Too simple. His haughty behaviour dictating his outlook on his life, so he never thought to raise his eyes into the night, to see the man watching him from the rooftop across the way. True, soul stealing in this realm had its few problems, but he was skilled, and his employers paid well. There were few others as talented and those who were publicly known stayed out of his territory when he marked it.

Flexing his own wings, too twisted and mangled now from his long lost past to use efficiently, he still cherished the startlement and fear his appearance caused, or lust he could pull from those of freakish thoughts and desires.

All this cluttered his mind, so much to that he failed to notice as he was being followed in the shadows, failed to notice the increasing eyes above, failed to realize those thoughts in his mind were not all his own. The memories of tortured souls and sexless bodies under what was
not always his hands. They intermingled with his eyes and his mind as he proceeded back to his little hidey hole where his employers would come for their prize with his little payment.

Pulling back a board to the old abandon building, holding it carefully as he kept the heavy thing up, his other arm occupied with keeping his loot and the soul bottle to his chest, eyes forward as the street had been empty. His wrist letting him know a bit late of the fingers curling around and nearly crushing it as he was wrenched backward by the one unguarded arm.

\"What the F-?!\"

Cut off as the very same board he\'d been holding up swung back on the hinges he\'d carefully placed before, swung back and hit him hard in head and shoulder, instantly making his world explode in sparks and pain. His vision faded in all this bright and swirl, until he collapsed in strong arms, deep growls and screams of songless birds chased him into the darkness.


It could\'ve been moments. It could\'ve been hours. Days, maybe weeks. He couldn\'t tell. Paris woke with a start, a gasp ans bls blue slit eyes opening in a flash. He clutched his throbbing head and glanced around the nearly pitch black room for a moment before he realized he has been stripped of not only his precious clothes, but his loot.

The Soul Jar on the other hand, was in plain sight, across the room, in the hands of someone he could simply describe as unsettling. There was no other light in the room save for that dim cast given off by the captured soul. The drifting blue-white-green that the spirit gave as it had not yet realized it was dead.

The man, presumably his captor, was outlined in this spiritual light, as was the chair he sat in and the small table beside him with unidentifiable objects hidden in a layer of shadow. The man seemed long and lank in the limbs, dressed in simple black attire. Soft soled slip on shoes and long hair draping around his head so the only thing the light could catch was the bridge of his nose and his lips.

Those thick and full lips that didn\'t quite describe any specific gender, pulled down in a deep, thoughtful frown. The Spirit Jar was slowly passed from one pale, porcelain white hand to the other. They were long, curling a little more than normally possible, stronger, tapered off at the ends. Bird-like, as Paris came to think about it.

\"I don\'t suppose I could have that back?\" Paris asked testily. Maybe all this guy wanted was a good fuck, and didn\'t know what he was holding.

The head of his captor rose and the blue-black orbs within the white fleshy substance of his eyes seemed to glow angrily at him. \"No.\"

Paris frowned, getting to his feet. Surprised he didn\'t have any restraints or ties to keep him down, he just gave his captor a leering grin. That was his first mistake, letting Paris have his hands free. He strode forward with intentions to just take it from the goth-wannabe.

\"Hey, Its mine, I got it fair and square. You want one, get one of y-UCK!\" Once again finding himself cut off as his mind\'s eye registered the movement faster than his physical eyes did. The man never moved save for looking at him, yet fingers constrained tightly around his throat, pulling him back. The light in the room gradually decreased until the light of the soul went out, and he was dropped to the floor, gasping for breath.

\"This is MY territory, Soul hunter. You\'ve crossed the borders into MY home,\" his voice hissed from all around him in he darkness. Realising all too late he\'d pissed off someone who was clearly much higher up on the food chain. Without knowing just how right he was.

\"N-Now, hey, I didn\'t know this was your turf! There wasn\'t any markings anywhere or nothin! You cant peg this on-\" Paris found himself short of breath and staggering backwards from a blow to the chest. A kick, he\'d wager, from the power put in behind it. Fuck, this guy could see in the dark too?

\"Did I say you could speak!\" the man bellowed, moving through the darkness to lift Paris by the horns, and slamming his head back against the wall. Breath down on his face made him realize this stranger was taller than he was. \"My Totema is posted on every border, do NOT say you know nothing!\"

Shit. Lightbulb went off in his mind. His employers had indeed mentioned he was going into someone else\'s territory. A name he didn\'t know so he\'d assumed this would go off easy. Everyone knew tll pll powerful denizens in the business, right? He\'d seen the occasional bird markings on the concrete and walls, but figured they were nothing to pay attention to.

And now it was pretty obvious to him that not only had he been caught, but he had been caught by the man who owned this particular turf, and not some lackey he could just brush off. His breath quickened, enticed and seduced by the fear that had started to churn through his veins. He reached out, licking his lips, trying a different tactic.

\"H-hey man, cant we work something out here?\" Pressing his hands to the taller man\'s chest, skating his hands up to touch his nipples and bunch up the shirt a little. Hello, what\'s this? Nipple barbells. Interesting.

Hot breath increased and he felt lips brush against his. \"Are you trying to seduce The Ravenn, Peon?\" And yet didn\'t move away. Paris was positive he felt the nipples harden and perk under his fingertips.

\"If it\'ll get me out of here, I don\'t see a problem with it,\" Paris responded calmly, trying to figure out where Ravenn\'s eyes were so he could look into them with a cool and calm like attitude even though he was certain he felt more than one pair of hands moving along his back and legs. Despite the fact that he was pressed up tight against the wall.

\"Perhaps... I\'ll take you up on that,\" Ravenn replied, licking the fallen angel\'s lips a moment, giving him a false sense of security before crushing his lips with a kiss. Thick tongue filling the smaller man\'s mouth and immediately placing his dominance and ownership of Paris, whether he liked it or not. If Paris was going to play this game, it was going to be by Ravenn\'s rules, and he would be punished if he tried to do otherwise.

The sensation of the inhuman hands continued across his skin, from his shoulders, down his back to seemingly touch his very spine between his wings, playing the nerve endings like guitar strings. Some brought him pleasure, others brought him pain or adrenaline. He felt himself being played like a puppet as fingers moved lower and lower, gliding over and through clenched buttocks and down to his thighs.

\"Oh god,\" Paris gasped as the sensation dwindled to nothing around his thighs. His feet touching the floor as his horns were released and The Ravenn\'s hands idly brushed over his chest and belly, sizing him up or stroking him down. It didn\'t seem to matter all that much any more. His veins felt like harp strings, waiting in tension for this man to play him in a symphony.

The tip of The Ravenn\'s tongue lightly outlined Paris\'s lips, yet did not dive hungrily into his petitely formed mouth as most others taking advantage would. From his lips, his tongue flickered out over his cheeks, drawing wet little spirals onto his skin, or introducing a light scrape of teeth along the side of his head up to his temple where he was kissed.

Paris was having trouble fathoming how he\'d never heard of this Ravenn man before from the treatment he was receiving. He seemed like a lover who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. These minimal thoughts fluctuating as he felt lips and the moist tongue move from his face to his neck. Knees quivering, his moved his arms to find the mans shoulders and cling to him lest he fall over under his own power or lack thereof.

Ravenn took his time tasting his flesh, the surface of his skin in salts and oils almost telling him where his new found fallen angel had been and what he\'d been up to. He could almost smell the men who sent the poor wretch into his territory, but this was being drowned out by the fine scent of lust. He\'d lost his chance already to find out who had sent a soul stealer into his home.

Paris found himself being lifted and cradled by powerful arms, still blind as a bat in the darkness. Suddenly flaring to life with fire in his veins, all triggered by a rather hard bite to one of his perfect little nipples. An inferno of lust building within his belly as he heard some far off voice begging for more. Only to realize moments later it was his own voice pleading with these desires.

He was placed on a bed, something sweet smelling and soft, then left alone. He couldn\'t see The Ravenn, but knew from faint sounds that the man was removing his clothes. Saddened by the loss of the soul\'s light, and the inability to see the man in the darkness. So sure was he of leaving this place alive as long as he bent to the whims of its master. He would\'ve liked to have been able to recognize the man and avoid him later as far as his anger went.

The mattress of the bed sank and shifted beside him as the man of darkness moved upon the bed beside him. Captured in the master\'s bedroom, had this been planned all along? Would he have been taken even if he had not offered? Both thrilled and frightened, he reached out to touch him, seeking some compromise in his senses that would tell him he wasn\'t really there. Or perhaps just that he might be human and manipulated in the acts of bed.

Wrist caught, there was a flush of hot breath over his face and a growl in his ear. \"What are you, a woman?\" And a low roll of laughter. Paris felt his hand being guided over the mans body, fascinated by the smooth, cool skin that was interrupted by rough patches, lines, scars. Once his hand was released, he traced one of these scars, grouped so finely together. Like a Cutter, he realized. Kisses butterflied softly on his chest while Paris guided his hands over the supple muscle and flesh, stopping to investigate every group of scars.

Most these scar groups seemed to be on his arms and his thighs, a few crisscrossing his chest and sides. Perhaps he\'d been cut up in some strange ritual or had taken on one too many knife wielding opponents.

However, all this was irrelevant once more as his nipples were bitten again and he found one of those delicately long fingered hands smoothing down his belly and gripping quite abruptly around his hardened shaft. Feeling him out, testing the strength of his flesh. He jerked involuntarily from a squeeze, thrusting upwards into the consuming hand.

Fanning the flames, the heat building in his body and flushing out over his skin, Paris gripped at Ravenn\'s hips and thrust into the waiting hand a few times. Mewling slightly at the hand clutching tightly over his nearly solid organ, begging him for more than just a simple hand job.

Ravenn towered over him, hidden in the darkness, only the pain of the dark man\'s fist across his face signifying he could\'ve done anything wrong. Paris found his hands wrenched back, both wrists trapped in a steel grip. His arms were wrenched over his head so hard it hurt from grinding wrists to strainshoushoulders. Biting back the urge to scream in pain, eyes searching the darkness for some sign of what his lover of the night was thinking.

Short jerky motions, then he felt rope - No, chains - being wrapped around his wrists, strongly binding them together, perhaps entrapping him to the bed where he lay. Paris arched and strained against this sudden boe. \e. \"Hey-\"

All objections cut off as bruising lips slammed down on his mouth and captured his senses in pain and lust. Hidden fingers flicking at his perk nipples until the sensations raced along his spine and his body pulled taught. Ravenn was playing him like some mystical instrument, a tune he could feel to the core of his soul.

Squirming beneath him like an eel out of water, the pleasure ended abruptly as sharp nails dug into his skin and dragged down from his pecks to his cock. Nails that dug into the base of his genitals and finally did make him scream. Anything even slightly sharp down there was generally a carefully avoided idea.

These strange hands, that could bring pleasure or pain, pulled at Paris\'s legs, wrenching them apart, forcing him into a rather uncomfortable position. Legs split wide apart, so his calves hung on opposing sides of the bed, he found himself far more bare than mere nakedness could\'ve described. Caught on plains of humiliation and fear like no other he\'d experienced before. Fight deepening further as he came to realize his seduction was all just part of the game. Ravenn had pulled his strings like a master and was now getting exactly what he wanted of Paris.

The fallen angel suddenly doubted his plans of escape and life. What was the deal, had one even been made?

Pain brought him back. Real, honest to god pain. Not the scrape or prick of nails. But cool, cold steel in his thighs, riding him down to the knees. Nostrils flared as his voice pitched higher in an almost womanly scream. The soul-catcher of the realm had just sliced into his thighs the way a soccer mom cuts the crust from her child\'s Peanutbutter sandwich.

Desperately, he made an attempt to pull his legs up, close them, pull away from Ravenn, anything he could do to make the pain stop. But it just got worse. Dark laughter ringing in his ears as the wicked man used the knives like tent pegs, shoving them hard into his flesh until the length of the blades, feeling like swords, pressed into the mattress and held him there in agony.

\"No! Stop! It hurts!\" he heard himself scream, voice broken and high in panic and pain. His mind felt heavy in his skull from the shock of being so suddenly wounded that he didn\'t even notice the probe of fingers until a duller dry pain pressed towards his oesophagus. His inner walls tearing as claw like fingers pressed into his unwilling anus, bringing another scream from the angel.

Legs throbbing, hurting more with every new sensation as they involuntarily jerked at the swords every time something new ripped inside him. The darkness gripping around his throat and chest, making it hard to breathe, and Pain was all he knew. Pain and a heat that kept him alive and awake even through this torment.

Fingers scissored inside him, devoid of caring, letting his own blood lubricate the passages. Paris\'s pain put him beyond words now, his only option was grunting and shaking his head from side to side as his screams and wordless begging was continuously ignored for the heat of the moment.

One moment, it was gone, and the next, his body surged up and away, retching at the flesh of his legs as he desperately tried to pull himself away by the chain. Something else now impaling him. Longer, thicker, hotter. Blunt and throbbing, he only knew it to be what he\'d lusted so eagerly before. Was this the cost of sleeping with The Ravenn? To be torn and bloodied all for the sake of one 's t's twisted pleasures?

\"Yes,\" came the throaty reply from above him. Paris\'s eyes widening as he sobbed. The man was even in his mind now, reading every thought running through his stricken mind. Nothing he could hide, no sensation he could fake. Unwanted tears welling up in his eyes and spilling from the corners as hot, hard flesh rammed inside his torn passageway. The scream torn from his throat only seeming to egg the dark creature on him forward. He didn\'t even linger, but continued to ram his full size in and out of the quaking body of the fallen angel. Once innocent by comparison to the threats and evils of the world. This was like nothing he\'d ever experienced before.

Every point on him was pain. If he pulled up and away to flee the invading member, his legs and knees would be torn by the swords still deep in his flesh. Relieving the pain of his legs by inching his body down only met him with the harsh grinding motion of Ravenn\'s hips and the bloodied cock that just refused to be anything but insistently painful. All this was only occasionally relieved by the mad dashing thrusts rocking against that heavenly little spot inside him that caused him to beg for the abuse all the more.

Wicked laughter boomed throughout the room as Paris suddenly felt a clench then release from his depths, hot liquid spattering over his chest. His mind drenched in emotions left undescribed, it took him a few moments to realize he\'d climaxed and came over himself. He flushed as this set in, and his mind altering state began to do only what it could to adapt. He started to enjoy the pain in desperate attempt to get it all over with sooner. Forcing himself to grind back against Ravenn, silently praying, over and over, for it just to be over, said and done.

Clenching his ass around the fiend that continued to dog him, Paris gave his all, his every seductive trick of body and mind that he could manage in this position in effort to get the man to cum inside him. Strokes only seeming to get deeper, the dark member twitching and seeming to flex inside his passage. He was openly weeping and moaning, praising the danger and pain Ravenn gave him when he finally got what he wanted. A fire of liquid silk gushing into his organs from the wrong end, flushing them out with a heavier load than he\'d expected. Finally thinking he\'d be aloud to leave and going limp, waiting to be unbou
D
Dreams and motions that never came. True, the terrible sex was removed from him, much to his relief, but he now found the strange creature licking his thighs, drinking up the spilled blood from his flesh and the sheets, pressing tongue into his open wounds and spreading them wider. Paris sobbed softly, having little strength left in mind to resist the twisted worship of his body.

Or so he had thought, until sudden teeth buried into his wounds and tore flesh from him, muscle stripped away from inside the wound the way a child pulls at a strip of cotton candy. He was unsure how to describe the loss of muscle to his wrecked mind. Only that something vital to him had just been removed and nerve endings had shorted out. In some way, it was less pain, at the same time, it was more.

His breath continued to fail him and light headed sensations were brought on from more and more blood loss. Screaming hoarsely now and again as he felt the wicked creature\'s clawed fingers and teeth ripping into his thighs and calves, stripping his legs of sensation and meat. Living out some erotic nightmare, barely able to focus to realise the man was moving over him. Giving a strangled cry as he found his arms being given the same treatment, bite by bite.

He was spiralling into darkness at a rapid pace as the last of his arms were being devoured. Feeling distant from his body, in so much wretched agony that he was numbed from all feeling. A strange sense of serene calm came over him. The realization that he was dying. Being eaten alive by a force few but the dead probably knew about.

Paris\'s life ended and he breathed his last by the time Ravenn was tearing through his stomach, chowing on the organs in similar fashion to a good Asian with a steaming bowel of noodles.

Ravenn had enjoyed this little romp in his many-times bloodied bed. Smiling to himself as he reached over and flicked on the lamp by the bedside. Nude and glistening with Paris\'s blood, he spent the night nibbling on the remains of the corpse and rubbing the gelling blood all over himself. A sedated purr centering from his chest as he finally slept, a bloody skull lightly clutched in his hands, and sucking on the man\'s former tail bone.