(no subject)
Title: Nightmares Win
Author: atrocious_x
Pairing: Multiple - But mostly Matt // Johnny
Rating: NC17 (future)
Summary: [AU]. It's the year 2066, and werewolves run amok in New York City.
Disclaimer: Not real dur. A Static Lullaby sing the song: "Nightmares Win 6-0".
Nightmares Win
Chapter 00
Prologue
(New York City, 2066)
The master bathroom door opened, and Matt Sanders appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but baggy, low-cut jeans. In one hand he held a small bottle full of a purple liquid; in the other, an empty syringe. Leaning against the door frame, he filled the needle completely, before slowly starting to near the large bed in the center of the room. Jimmy Sullivan, laying down, undressed and glistening with perspiration, lifted an eye lid lazily, before closing it again and making a face. He said nothing though as Matt neared him.
The larger man perched on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward to place the now half-empty bottle on the bureau next to the bed. As he was messing around with the needle, Jimmy sat up behind him, and lightly ghosted his fingers over the back of Matt's neck, before sliding a skinny arm around it.
"Did you already take your dose?" he asked.
Matt nodded, not saying anything, and he turned his head to the side. Jimmy leaned forward and pressed his lips to Matt's firmly. Then, without Matt needing to say anything, he held his free arm out in front of him. Matt expertly grabbed Jimmy by the crook of his elbow, pulling it closer to him so he could see in the dim lighting of the room. He never bothered to use a strap and tie his or Jimmy's arms anymore. He lightly tapped at the bend in Jimmy's skin a few times before a bluish vein made it's presence known, raising itself slightly, and causing Jimmy's flesh to pull taut around it.
"You think I'd be used to this stuff by now." Jimmy said, tone barely a whisper .
Matt nodded, his hazel eyes flickering to Jimmy's steel for just a moment. "You never get used to it." he said.
Jimmy said no more as the point of the needle hovered over his vein for a split second. As it pierced his skin, he winced, and bit his bottom lip, his other arm tightening around Matt's broad neck. The larger man showed no discomfort, only determination as he pushed the violet liquid from the syringe into Jimmy's bloodstream. Once it was emptied, he tossed it to the floor as Jimmy's arm slid from around him, and he laid down. Matt placed a hand on the mattress on the other side of Jimmy, leaning over the taller man and studying him intensely.
He could see by Jimmy's flinches that the medicine was working, and after about five minutes of this, it stopped. The man underneath of him relaxed, and started to breath normally again. Matt's other hand moved up and he brushed the back of his knuckles down Jimmy's cheek softly. He leaned down and kissed the taller man roughly, wasting no time in pushing his tongue between Jimmy's lips.
There was no cure for lycanthropy, but monkshood would have to do.
Chapter 01
Johnathan Seward let the library door fall closed behind him as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Like always, the New York streets were bustling with energy, even at nine o'clock at night. Throwing a look around him, he shifted his messenger bag around, and started walking home. He was seventeen years old, but hadn't been able to go to driving school yet. Wasn't like a car would do him much good anyway; the traffic was always busy, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd have been beaten home by someone walking. His grandma could've beat him walking home if he had a car and got stuck in traffic.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he expertly lit one and placed it between his lips. He'd been smoking since he was fourteen -- it was ever since his parents had been killed by a werewolf. It was common in 2066 New York; werewolves had been running astray since 2034, but in 2058 there'd been a law set down that any werewolf found wasn't to be killed by a hunter, instead transferred to a hospital -- sort of like an asylum -- where they'd receive treatment for their "disease". But every now and then there was one that hadn't been caught yet wandering the streets; most of these strays were killed by hunters, their bodies hidden so the hunter wouldn't get in trouble.
"Hey kid."
He ignored the voice of some older-looking guy in an alley; a drug dealer -- they were pretty common around the streets too.
"Not interested." he said, shrugging his arm out of the man's grasp when the bum had tried to stop him physically.
He was used to things like that, he was even used to watching werewolves get sacked -- whether they were killed or tranquilized for the hospital. It was everyday life for the ordinary New Yorker.
He squared his shoulders as he came to a corner where he recognized a notorious hunter. Brandan Schieppati had saved Johnny's life more than once, and had even offered Johnny training. However, anybody under eighteen couldn't begin training yet, much less get their hunter's license.
Brandan's lips curled upwards when he caught sight of Johnny, and he nodded he jerked his head slightly in a nod; an informal greeting. Johnny returned both the smirk and the nod, stopping in front of Brandan.
"How's it goin'?" the older man asked, uncrossing his arms, and straightening from the way he'd been leaning against the wall.
"Alright I guess," Johnny said. "Haven't heard any new stories about you and your mighty ways of bringing down the wolves lately -- don't tell me you're going soft on me."
Brandan grinned, "Wouldn't dream of it, doll." he said, using a term he called everyone, male or female. He reached forward and plucked the cigarette from between Johnny's lips. The younger man watched as Brandan took a drag, before holding it back out to him. "Just waiting for the right time to do something big."
"Big?" Johnny asked, putting the cigarette back in his mouth, off to the corner so he could speak. "Like throwing a gang leader from the roof of a building, after filling his furry ass with as much silver as possible?"
Brandan grinned again. "That one was pretty big, wasn't it?" he asked. "But no, I mean something else. Not just some pansy gang leader like that. Someone bigger." Brandan glanced around, before leaning forward slightly. "You ever hear of the Aconites?"
Johnny's brow furrowed. "No." he said, shaking his head.
Brandan swallowed, smirking once more. "This is why I wish you were eighteen, you'd already know all this shit, and you could help me out." he said. "The Aconites are a clan; much larger than a gang. They're the ones that've caused all this bull shit with the wolves -- if it weren't for them there wouldn't be such a high death toll."
"And you want to bring them down?" Johnny asked.
Brandan put his arms out at his sides, gesturing to himself. "Naturally," he said. "I mean, I am one of the highest ranked hunters, aren't I?"
Johnny grinned. "So who's the leader of this clan?" he asked.
Brandan leaned in again after another sweep of the street with his eyes. "He goes by the name of Shadows. I hear his name's Matt -- I can't kill him unless he does something though; which doesn't seem to want to happen. He's like, one of the lycanthropes that wishes he'd never transformed that first time. A born again Christian, if you will."
Johnny nodded, pulling his cigarette from his mouth to exhale smoke. He held it out to Brandan who shook his head, straightening to lean against the brick wall some more.
"When's your birthday?" the older man asked suddenly.
"Not for a couple of months," Johnny answered, "November."
Brandan made a face, looking away again. "Soon." he said. "Me and you could own these streets."
Johnny grinned, glancing down at his watch. "I have to get going." he said.
Brandan nodded. "Take care, man." he said.
Johnny nodded, saying something similar, before he started walking again. He didn't live too far away, thankfully. He needed to get home and finish something for school, even though he was considering dropping out. If he went into training for his eighteenth birthday as he planned, he'd have to stop going anyway.
He turned a corner, and ran smack into a large chest. Two arms grabbed his shoulders steadying him, and he glanced up slowly. He found himself staring into the hazel eyes of a very good-looking stranger. Not only was he tall, but he was very muscular, his sleeveless black shirt was enough to show that.
"Sorry," he said, a naturally raspy tone.
Johnny got a chill, and he doubted it was from the raspy tone (though there was a strange pleasurable sensation from that). No, this guy was one of them, he'd learned how to pick these guys out.
"Don't worry about it." Johnny said, words slurred from the cigarette which had moved to hanging off the middle of his bottom lip.
The stranger seemed to have taken note of the way Johnny was studying him; as if he knew that Johnny knew what he was. He swallowed hard, and stepped aside, giving the kid room to pass. Johnny muttered a small thanks before doing just that, and passing the man.
As he walked away, he quickened his pace, throwing a look over his shoulder. The stranger had been watching him, but had turned quickly and started back on his own way when Johnny had caught him. Johnny quickly pushed the man from his mind, no matter how good-looking he had looked, he was a monster.
Reviews would totally you know...make me swoon like a little girl.
Author: atrocious_x
Pairing: Multiple - But mostly Matt // Johnny
Rating: NC17 (future)
Summary: [AU]. It's the year 2066, and werewolves run amok in New York City.
Disclaimer: Not real dur. A Static Lullaby sing the song: "Nightmares Win 6-0".
Nightmares Win
Chapter 00
Prologue
(New York City, 2066)
The master bathroom door opened, and Matt Sanders appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but baggy, low-cut jeans. In one hand he held a small bottle full of a purple liquid; in the other, an empty syringe. Leaning against the door frame, he filled the needle completely, before slowly starting to near the large bed in the center of the room. Jimmy Sullivan, laying down, undressed and glistening with perspiration, lifted an eye lid lazily, before closing it again and making a face. He said nothing though as Matt neared him.
The larger man perched on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward to place the now half-empty bottle on the bureau next to the bed. As he was messing around with the needle, Jimmy sat up behind him, and lightly ghosted his fingers over the back of Matt's neck, before sliding a skinny arm around it.
"Did you already take your dose?" he asked.
Matt nodded, not saying anything, and he turned his head to the side. Jimmy leaned forward and pressed his lips to Matt's firmly. Then, without Matt needing to say anything, he held his free arm out in front of him. Matt expertly grabbed Jimmy by the crook of his elbow, pulling it closer to him so he could see in the dim lighting of the room. He never bothered to use a strap and tie his or Jimmy's arms anymore. He lightly tapped at the bend in Jimmy's skin a few times before a bluish vein made it's presence known, raising itself slightly, and causing Jimmy's flesh to pull taut around it.
"You think I'd be used to this stuff by now." Jimmy said, tone barely a whisper .
Matt nodded, his hazel eyes flickering to Jimmy's steel for just a moment. "You never get used to it." he said.
Jimmy said no more as the point of the needle hovered over his vein for a split second. As it pierced his skin, he winced, and bit his bottom lip, his other arm tightening around Matt's broad neck. The larger man showed no discomfort, only determination as he pushed the violet liquid from the syringe into Jimmy's bloodstream. Once it was emptied, he tossed it to the floor as Jimmy's arm slid from around him, and he laid down. Matt placed a hand on the mattress on the other side of Jimmy, leaning over the taller man and studying him intensely.
He could see by Jimmy's flinches that the medicine was working, and after about five minutes of this, it stopped. The man underneath of him relaxed, and started to breath normally again. Matt's other hand moved up and he brushed the back of his knuckles down Jimmy's cheek softly. He leaned down and kissed the taller man roughly, wasting no time in pushing his tongue between Jimmy's lips.
There was no cure for lycanthropy, but monkshood would have to do.
Chapter 01
Johnathan Seward let the library door fall closed behind him as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Like always, the New York streets were bustling with energy, even at nine o'clock at night. Throwing a look around him, he shifted his messenger bag around, and started walking home. He was seventeen years old, but hadn't been able to go to driving school yet. Wasn't like a car would do him much good anyway; the traffic was always busy, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd have been beaten home by someone walking. His grandma could've beat him walking home if he had a car and got stuck in traffic.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he expertly lit one and placed it between his lips. He'd been smoking since he was fourteen -- it was ever since his parents had been killed by a werewolf. It was common in 2066 New York; werewolves had been running astray since 2034, but in 2058 there'd been a law set down that any werewolf found wasn't to be killed by a hunter, instead transferred to a hospital -- sort of like an asylum -- where they'd receive treatment for their "disease". But every now and then there was one that hadn't been caught yet wandering the streets; most of these strays were killed by hunters, their bodies hidden so the hunter wouldn't get in trouble.
"Hey kid."
He ignored the voice of some older-looking guy in an alley; a drug dealer -- they were pretty common around the streets too.
"Not interested." he said, shrugging his arm out of the man's grasp when the bum had tried to stop him physically.
He was used to things like that, he was even used to watching werewolves get sacked -- whether they were killed or tranquilized for the hospital. It was everyday life for the ordinary New Yorker.
He squared his shoulders as he came to a corner where he recognized a notorious hunter. Brandan Schieppati had saved Johnny's life more than once, and had even offered Johnny training. However, anybody under eighteen couldn't begin training yet, much less get their hunter's license.
Brandan's lips curled upwards when he caught sight of Johnny, and he nodded he jerked his head slightly in a nod; an informal greeting. Johnny returned both the smirk and the nod, stopping in front of Brandan.
"How's it goin'?" the older man asked, uncrossing his arms, and straightening from the way he'd been leaning against the wall.
"Alright I guess," Johnny said. "Haven't heard any new stories about you and your mighty ways of bringing down the wolves lately -- don't tell me you're going soft on me."
Brandan grinned, "Wouldn't dream of it, doll." he said, using a term he called everyone, male or female. He reached forward and plucked the cigarette from between Johnny's lips. The younger man watched as Brandan took a drag, before holding it back out to him. "Just waiting for the right time to do something big."
"Big?" Johnny asked, putting the cigarette back in his mouth, off to the corner so he could speak. "Like throwing a gang leader from the roof of a building, after filling his furry ass with as much silver as possible?"
Brandan grinned again. "That one was pretty big, wasn't it?" he asked. "But no, I mean something else. Not just some pansy gang leader like that. Someone bigger." Brandan glanced around, before leaning forward slightly. "You ever hear of the Aconites?"
Johnny's brow furrowed. "No." he said, shaking his head.
Brandan swallowed, smirking once more. "This is why I wish you were eighteen, you'd already know all this shit, and you could help me out." he said. "The Aconites are a clan; much larger than a gang. They're the ones that've caused all this bull shit with the wolves -- if it weren't for them there wouldn't be such a high death toll."
"And you want to bring them down?" Johnny asked.
Brandan put his arms out at his sides, gesturing to himself. "Naturally," he said. "I mean, I am one of the highest ranked hunters, aren't I?"
Johnny grinned. "So who's the leader of this clan?" he asked.
Brandan leaned in again after another sweep of the street with his eyes. "He goes by the name of Shadows. I hear his name's Matt -- I can't kill him unless he does something though; which doesn't seem to want to happen. He's like, one of the lycanthropes that wishes he'd never transformed that first time. A born again Christian, if you will."
Johnny nodded, pulling his cigarette from his mouth to exhale smoke. He held it out to Brandan who shook his head, straightening to lean against the brick wall some more.
"When's your birthday?" the older man asked suddenly.
"Not for a couple of months," Johnny answered, "November."
Brandan made a face, looking away again. "Soon." he said. "Me and you could own these streets."
Johnny grinned, glancing down at his watch. "I have to get going." he said.
Brandan nodded. "Take care, man." he said.
Johnny nodded, saying something similar, before he started walking again. He didn't live too far away, thankfully. He needed to get home and finish something for school, even though he was considering dropping out. If he went into training for his eighteenth birthday as he planned, he'd have to stop going anyway.
He turned a corner, and ran smack into a large chest. Two arms grabbed his shoulders steadying him, and he glanced up slowly. He found himself staring into the hazel eyes of a very good-looking stranger. Not only was he tall, but he was very muscular, his sleeveless black shirt was enough to show that.
"Sorry," he said, a naturally raspy tone.
Johnny got a chill, and he doubted it was from the raspy tone (though there was a strange pleasurable sensation from that). No, this guy was one of them, he'd learned how to pick these guys out.
"Don't worry about it." Johnny said, words slurred from the cigarette which had moved to hanging off the middle of his bottom lip.
The stranger seemed to have taken note of the way Johnny was studying him; as if he knew that Johnny knew what he was. He swallowed hard, and stepped aside, giving the kid room to pass. Johnny muttered a small thanks before doing just that, and passing the man.
As he walked away, he quickened his pace, throwing a look over his shoulder. The stranger had been watching him, but had turned quickly and started back on his own way when Johnny had caught him. Johnny quickly pushed the man from his mind, no matter how good-looking he had looked, he was a monster.
Reviews would totally you know...make me swoon like a little girl.