NaNoWriMo 2009 - Blood Soaked Lovers [ 2 / 10 ]
Title: Blood Soaked Lovers
Rating: NC-17 / MA
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairings: Slight McCoy/Kirk
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the characters nor the song titles
Warnings: mentions of satanic rituals, death (minor character)
Summary: At least this guy let him say no, he thought, not like the guy who haunted his dreams.
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CHAPTER TWO: HAUNTED
The night felt cold against his skin by the pale figure honestly could have cared less as he held tightly onto the wrapped bundle he held, glad that there was no one on the streets right now. The lamplights were on but they were hardly bright enough to light every spot on the road, giving the man just enough light to see by as he walked while allowing the sight of the stars above him and the moon’s glow to be plainly visible. His clothes were black, his tanned hands covered in black leather gloves, but he had no reflection on any of the windows he passed by as he made his way down the road nor did any of the snow that collected on his shoulders, hair or bundle melt as they would with a normal person. The man didn’t seem to care. He was too focused on his path between the shops and restaurants, heading towards the graveyard at the end of the path.
“You sure are a heavy son of a bitch,” the man said quietly after a few moments, adjusting the bundle in his arms, an arm falling out from where it had been wrapped up against the body in the jacket. It was thin and brittle looking, the fingerless gloves filthy and stained. The man carrying the body didn’t seem to notice the slip. He just kept walking as soon as he got his grip on it comfortable enough again.
The man’s breath didn’t condense as it passed his lips nor did his skin change color while in contact with the cold. It was pale, it always was, tinged a little with blue. Hazel eyes, no darker than any human’s, had traces of blood red in them while the lean face was adorned by a short but well trimmed beard of black hair, the same shade as his thick eyebrows and short black hair. Around the man’s neck, tucked underneath the high black collar, was a stiff white one that stood out sharply, the slit in the front of it allowing the white to stand out and dangling over his chest from a thick black chord was a crucifix of iron that had been carefully treated to prevent rusting and shined to resemble silver. The robes he wore were black and ankle length, the pants, socks and shoes underneath that were black also.
Yet, despite being dressed as a Holy man, this priest was far from godly and he knew it. What kind of priest would carry the body of a man he had killed to a graveyard in the dead of night like he was? What kind of priest would snap the neck of a man then drink every drop of blood from that same man’s body like an animal? No priest this man had certainly heard of. He was pretty sure he was first of his kind in that respect, at least in this part of the world. Not that it mattered quite all that much. He was hardly proud of what he had become and he didn’t expect anyone else to be proud of it either.
Upon reaching the front gateway of the graveyard the priest hesitated, his bloodless lips pressing into a thin line. The ground he was about to step on was consecrated, designated as holy by both Church and God. Any demon who would set foot upon this land, normally, would be burned into cinders. The same applied to the creature the priest had become over time and he was hardly content about it. He had been witness to one such incident while he had still been human though he hadn’t tried his own hand at the same trick.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself even though his body did not require oxygen any longer, he stepped forward beyond the line that separated holy from common ground and waited for a second or two to see what would happen. There was a flash of light from the line and the holy symbols that warned of intrusion, but nothing else occurred. Perhaps it was because he had been a holy man before he had become a demon? Taking another step into the graveyard, the man breathed a sigh of relief. He saw no reason why he couldn’t continue with his plan now.
His heavy steps made deep imprints in the snow and the white flakes caught easily onto the hem of his cassock, encrusting it with a heavy layer of them. The path he walked along had a thinner layer of snow than most of the graves since it was cleared out every day. He was sure someone would appreciate it when they came by later tonight. There was always someone in this place, regardless of the hour. He supposed that was why he took comfort in coming here, despite being surrounded by the dead. Besides, who would think to look for the body of a missing person in a graveyard? The place was full of bodies and it would take time to dig the fresher corpses up to check to see who’s corpse it was buried there. He knew of a way to make the process even more difficult for the police to track and yet allow him a reprieve for his guilt in taking this life. All he had to do was get to the open grave that had been prepared for tomorrow.
The climb up the hill was not overly strenuous for the priest but he panted regardless, perhaps out of habit more than anything else. The wind whipped at his robes as he reached the top and tossed the human corpse into the six foot deep hole. There was the sickening crack of bone snapping but the man paid it no heed. He crossed himself and began reciting the funeral rites he had long ago memorized, retrieving the small canister of fuel and match stick from where they had sat by the head stone. Ashes wouldn’t be that hard to cover up compared to a full corpse.
“Ashes to ashes,” he said softly, pouring the fuel onto the corpse, “dust to dust.” He lit the match and tossed it in. Immediately a fire erupted and the smell of burning flesh and fuel filled the air. He began to recite the psalm for the dead in the language of his faith as he watched the body burn, his guilt disappearing as the body was consumed. This man, this now nameless body, had been a beggar without a home and no one to do so much as call his friend. Before he had killed this man, he had offered the poor creature release from this life of suffering, even gave him his Last Rites before putting him out of his misery. No one would miss this creature and he was granted freedom. A win-win scenario from all angles, it seemed like.
The sound of a footsteps approaching made the vampire look up at the other but he did not step away from the sight burning corpse. He knew the man approaching. It would be hard not to. “Jim,” he said stiffly, straightening himself as he kept his hard gaze on the human who watched him now, “What are you doin’ here?” While the man was a member of the police force, one would be hard pressed to believe he was a completely legitimate police officer since he often toed the line of the law. Especially with that damn mischievous smirk on his face.
The police officer, one James Tiberius Kirk, shrugged as he stepped into the faint light of the fire, keeping his hands in the pockets of his wool coat and his bright blue eyes fixed on the priest’s face. “I was just walkin’ around, minding my own business when I noticed the footprints headin’ this way in the snow. Figured I’d come by to check it out.” It was bullshit. They both knew it. However neither seemed to care overly much.
Crossing his arms over his chest, the holy man turned his hazel eyes back to the fire. “You know you got the worst timin’ in the world sometimes.” The flames had by now consumed most of the skin off the human’s too thin body and was in the process of boiling and consuming the internal organs. “Couldn’t you have shown up some thirty minutes later? Wouldn’t have had to witness this if you had.”
Jim looked into the fire and cringed visibly at the burning body though he didn’t look away from the corpse as it burned. It gave the Father a chance to study his profile. Soft but short blond hair that was styled in a spiky manner looked to be made of woven gold though the tan to the man’s skin, a healthy human tan that the man had long ago forgotten he had once had, brought out not only how natural the color was but also the bright, almost unnatural blue color of his eyes. The cop had a strong set of shoulders on him and a decent build if the way he easily lifted and moved things most others had trouble with was anything to go by. He had a brilliant smile and was a natural flirt with women, sometimes even men, and had a way of getting any and everyone to give him what he needed or wanted from them with ease. Of course, his little tricks hadn’t worked with the priest and he was intent on keeping it that way.
“You know I can’t help it Jim. I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“I still wish you didn’t do it out where people can see you carryin’ the body around. Couldn’t you have just torn him up after you killed him and carried him in a bag or something?” A hand slipped out of the pocket, running shakily through the perfectly coiffed locks. “It’s harder to cover up when people actually see you holdin’ onto a pretty firm piece of evidence.”
The priest glared. “I may not be human but I ain’t no animal! It’s bad enough I gotta kill to survive. I don’t need to add tearing a body apart to my conscience, even if the bastard’s already dead when I do it.”
“Look Bones,” the cop said as he walked around the grave, just as the stench of the ruptured organs filled the air where he had been standing and was blown away since the vampire stood upwind of it, “You know I want to help you. I really do. I don’t just quit on my friends, even if they are turned into undead monsters, unless they give me a really fuckin’ good reason but there is a limit. I can’t cover up murder if everyone already knows of it.”
The preacher frowned at the use of the nickname. “My name’s Leonard McCoy. Use it,” he all but snapped, turning his attention to the corpse again when his friend stepped close enough that he could almost feel the heat of the other’s body standing next to him. “and if it really bothers you all that much then stop covering for me. This is not the first time I’ve had to run and start all over and it won’t be the last.”
Jim’s head snapped up at the mention of running, almost as if he was shocked his friend would even think to suggest such a thing. The hand that ran through his hair went back into his pocket. “Oh come on now, Bones. You know better than to assume I would let you get away from me all that easily.” The tone of his words changed and became much more playful. “I haven’t gotten into your pants yet and until I do you know you can’t get rid of me.” There was a slight nudge against the Father’s side but he ignored the implications of it. The body in the grave was almost completely gone.
“Not going to work,” McCoy snapped, moving away from the police captain and grabbing the shovel that had been stuck in the earth that had been used to dig the grave up to begin with, “so quit trying will ya? You know my vows as a holy man and what yer suggestin’ breaks at least three of them.” Not that he wasn’t tempted. He may have lost any interest in women since his ex-wife had left him, taking their daughter with her and destroying his reputation as a doctor so that the only option he had left was to join to church, but men still had an appeal to them. However, Leonard was a man of his word and when he took his vows of chastity and so forth, it would take a good deal more than a few sly words and innuendo from his friend to make him break it.
With the shovel held firmly in his grip, the priest used a few shovelfuls of half frozen earth to extinguish the flames that had devoured the human corpse, leaving nothing but bone and ashes in it’s place, and give the man a semblance of a proper burial. It was probably more than he would have had anyways with the village being as conservative as it was and only allowing those that were known to be of the faith to be buried. He didn’t stop until the body was completely covered, even if it was only with a layer just thick enough to hide that there was indeed a body in there, but when he finally did, he replaced the shovel where he had found it and said one last prayer of parting for the soul before gathering his small tank of fuel and matches and heading back towards the path he had taken to get up here. He didn’t look up as Jim followed him. He had known the annoying little bastard wouldn’t stay away for long.
“So, where are we goin’ now?” The human asked, trying to appear casual when Leonard knew full well the man’s teeth were chattering and he was fighting the urge to shiver more than he already was. The temperature, now that they were away from the fire that had burned the corpse, had dropped even further into frozen. Not that the vampire noticed. He couldn’t feel all that much of a difference since cold had lost all meaning to him.
Looking over at the man for a moment as they walked, the preacher sighed deeply. “Let me drop this stuff off at my place then we’ll head to a bar and let you warm up the way I know you want to.” Usually that meant beer and a woman but until the woman was in his friend’s arms, guiding him towards a warm place to stay the night, he would have to keep an eye on the mortal. So long as he wasn’t caught in the bar when the sun started to rise he would be fine. He relished the idea of third degree burns, possibly death beyond this point, even less than dealing with his ex-wife and that was a feat he didn’t think was possible until he experienced the sun’s burn first hand.
The enthusiastic nod he got in return was more than enough to make McCoy confirm his plans inside his own head and he had to admit, even if alcohol didn’t affect him any more, he could use the taste of it tonight to ease the remnants of guilt from that kill. The guy had all but begged for it. He didn’t want to think about the kind of life a human being had to go through to feel the need to die that strongly. Granted they were in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere Russia but that was purely by random assignment on his part. He never did ask how an American from Iowa got to be the police chief here. Who honestly cared?
As the pair of men walked along the path out of the graveyard, Leonard turned his gaze to the graves they passed by. He had been friends with so many of them that it hurt when he had to bury them. Some of them dated back well over a century ago and some were as recent as a week ago. It startled him how much time had passed. Had it really been a hundred forty years since the cluster fuck that was his life had fallen apart? A hundred forty years since he had been turned? It seemed like so much longer than that though that may have been because he had felt dead long before the vampire had made the pact with the devil on his behalf to make him into what he was.
One particular grave they passed by made the preacher’s heart clench more so than any other. It was the grave of a ten year old girl who had been struck down by a fever her parents didn’t know about until it was too late. The girl had had soft, black hair and beautiful blue eyes. He remembered her from his Bible study classes, remembered how actively and lively she had been, even going to far to call him “papa” instead of “Father” because, to her innocent mind, he was as much her father as her real dad was. Her death had hit him particularly badly, especially since he had been the one to give the dying girl her Last Rites and then watch her pass on. Even now it stung to walk by this grave, well over eighty years later.
He must have stopped at one point because the next thing McCoy knew, his friend was tugging on his coat sleeve impatiently. “While you don’t have a life to worry about I do and I would rather not lose it to freezing to death,” Jim all but growled, not bothering to hide his shivering now as he leaned heavily on the other man as if to find protection from the cold, “at least not yet.” Rolling his eyes, the preacher shifted his burdens so they both were carefully balanced in one hand before wrapping an arm around his friend to hold him closer to his side. He didn’t have any body heat to warm the other man up but he could block the wind from being so biting. He didn’t know how much good that would do the human but apparently it worked to some degree.
The two of them continued walking through the snow, the wind whipping at their clothes periodically while the snow gathered on their clothes. It would seem odd, McCoy thought now that his friend had shut up long enough to let him think for a minute, if he walked into the bar with snow that wouldn’t melt on his robes. He’d have to get the snow to melt a bit first before he stepped into the bar. He couldn’t very well let himself be exposed for what he was just yet. He liked his life in this small town and wasn’t willing to give it up just yet.
The small home Leonard McCoy called his own was little more than a shack that had been built many years ago. Even as they came upon it, the light from the windows seemed homely despite how disheveled the entire building looked and seemed to radiate it’s warmth. It was not very modern. It had electricity, yes, but that was more out of necessity than anything else. For the most part the four room cabin was heated by candles still and a fireplace. The barking of a dog made Jim look up and smile though it made his teeth chatter more than they already did. “Almost there,” the priest assured his friend. Perhaps sitting in and drinking would be the better idea.
By the time the two got to the door, the barking had grown more desperate sounding and so Bones set aside the things he carried in one hand while he searched in his robe pocket for the keys to the building. James had let him go in favor of wrapping his arms around himself and trying to see through the window of the living room, despite the heavy black cloth that covered it on the inside. He had been here often enough to knew what lay beyond the curtain anyway. He was as intimate with this home as he was with his own and that was a fact that annoyed the vampire in more ways than one. He found his keys after a few long moments and unlocked the door, letting Jim open it as and walk in as he bent to retrieve his things from where he had set them. They had to be replaced where he normally kept them should any other police officer come by this night to look for them.
Leonard closed the door behind him when he stepped inside and without too much of a worry toed off his shoes while he held onto his tools, not bothering to remove the long cassock just yet as he padded over to where the fireplace was. He didn’t look around to see where Jim was. He could hear the man’s laugher in the kitchen and the happy barking of Scotty, his Scottish Terrier as he was played with. Other than the human cop, Scotty was the only friend Leonard felt he had. It was a shame animals could not survive the ritual to become vampires. Shaking his head but with a smile on his face, the vampire put a log into the fire place and with the careful addition of fuel, then the match, managed to get a pretty strong fire going. That, he figured, would be enough to warm up his friend.
“How about we stay in tonight, Jim?” he called as he placed the gate in front of the fire to prevent the dog from jumping into the flames out of sheer stupidity (which seemed to strike at the most inopportune times) and stood, “I got plenty of alcohol and I’m sure you have some pickup lines you haven’t tried on me yet.” He pulled off his black leather gloves as he turned around and look up at the other, stuffing them into his pockets as he began unbuttoning the heavy robe. If he was going to talk with his buddy inside his home he’d have to get more comfortable.
His friend walked into the room, also in just his socks, his jack hanging off his shoulders as the terrier sat, happily cuddled in the man’s arms. “Sounds good. I could use some warming up anyway.” For just a second the priest’s breath caught at how happy the other man was and how utterly natural it seemed to have him stay here, playing with the dog, just as they were about to grab a couple of drinks and enjoy themselves in the comfort of the cabin. The earlier weather report had said that temperatures tonight were supposed to dip into the negative sixties. Even if he was angry with the blond there was no way he would have the kid walk home in those temperatures at night.
While the doctor he had once been and even was now to some degree fought against the suggestion of giving a cold man alcohol but the preacher in him just wanted to give the human the fortification he needed for this indirect confession. “Then take a seat. I’ve gotta change into something better than this.” And less guilt ridden. He never could drink while wearing his collar. The white band never failed to remind him of the life he had lost when he had become what he was now.
Walking into his bedroom but he didn’t bother with completely closing the door behind him while he set his crucifix and removed white collar on the dresser. He sighed as he went ahead and unbuttoned the cassock as he walked over to his dresser where he kept his civilian clothes. He didn’t hear the door open a little more as he slipped the heavy robe from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground, inadvertently revealing his back to his guest while he dug around in his drawer for a long sleeved v-neck sweater he particularly like wearing. He did, however, hear a gasp that made him pause in his search and look up. The look on the other man’s face was enough to make him feel ashamed though why this was he wasn’t sure.
It wasn’t his fault that he had a satanic pentagram carved into the skin of his back and inked over. He had hardly wanted the thing there by choice. However, the vampire that turned him had deemed it necessary, while he was in the midst of his transformation, to tattoo him permanently with the symbol of who was meant to be his new Lord. How it turned out, he didn’t know but he did remember how painful getting it had been. Even now seeing a symbol like it made the tattoo between his shoulder blades twinge in remembrance. As it was, he felt no shame about it. How could he feel shame over the tattoo when the bastard had done many worse things to him?
“Can I help you Jim?” Father McCoy growled, crossing his arms over his chest, trying his best to not feel too exposed under the scrutiny of those wide, sky-blue eyes while the man stepped closer to him. He knew full well he was better built than most priests. He had retained his fitness from before the transformation even if he was not the most muscular of men and it amused him how much it surprised people normally. Not this time though. He was more annoyed than anything at being walked in on in his own home.
The blond said nothing as he stepped into his friend’s bubble, clearly checking the man out before locking their gazes together. “You never told me you worked out, old man,” he said and padded around to see the mark again, the intricate inverse pentagram with the goat’s head drawn into it and a circle around it with five mystic letters, expertly done, in each point. “And you most certainly didn’t mention this either.”
Bones’ hands tightened their grip on his arms as Jim’s fingers brushed the mark. He could feel it flare and with it, the mild lust he felt for the human started becoming stronger. He could smell the man’s natural scent more, and with it the blood that ran through his veins. The animal in him was not deterred by the fact that the human was male. All it knew was that the blood smelled sweet and that the body was warm. It took a while longer than he wanted to admit, but he was able to fight the creature back into the cage he kept it in deep within himself.
“Don’t touch it,” he hissed between his teeth, stepping away from the other towards his closet. He had a few dress shirts and other sweaters he didn’t wear often in there and could grab one of them instead of the v-neck he had wanted. “It’s bad enough the way it is. I don’t need you activating the thing.” As tight as his hold on his lust was, he didn’t want to risk letting it lose. Who knew what that beast, when unleashed, would do to his best friend, his only friend other than his dog at this point? He didn’t want to be the one responsible for shedding the cop’s blood, even if it was by accident while he was not in control of himself.
But Jim would not be so easily distracted. It was usually a gift but right now felt like a curse. The damn human. “Activate it? What do you mean? Like let the Devil possess you or something?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like it.” He found a shirt he hadn’t worn in a while that he liked the feel of and slipped it on. It was v-necked, like the one he had originally wanted to wear, but was made of fleece rather than wool. Not that it made all that much of a difference tonight. He did find how tight-fitting it was rather worrisome though. “I’m part demon now, remember?” He adjusted the hem of it and turned around. Was that a flash of disappointment in his buddy’s eyes? The slut.
Jim pouted, arms crossed over his chest and he looked pathetically at McCoy. “In every way but one it seems.” He didn’t bother trying to hide what he meant and he expressed it by flopping onto the preacher’s bed and laid himself out as seductively as he could manage. “So what’s it gonna take to make you turn to the dark side? Am I going to have to get you drunk or drugged? Or will just my naked body work for you?”
Bones frowned and walked out of his room into the small kitchen, not dignifying the other with an answer. He was going to break out an old whiskey for tonight. He needed a good drink if that was what he was going to have to deal with tonight. At least this guy let him say no, he thought, not at all like the man who haunted his dreams.
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PART ONE: CURSED BY BEAUTY
PART THREE: VATER UNSER (OUR FATHER)