Fic: Dance with the lillies in the shadows of the valley (Adam/Lola)
Fic: Dance with the lillies in the shadows of the valley
Fandoms: Heroes, Moonlight
Summary: Dance with the lilies in the shadows of the valley - my lily of the valley of the shadow of death. ~ Skyclad, My Mother In Darkness
Notes: the whole blame for this fic can be put on the_grynne. Which indirectly also makes it transtempts' fault. I don't know where the first person narrative comes from; it surprised me, too.
Dance with the lillies in the shadows of the valley
They do not say that she is the fiercest, or the strongest, the most fearless or most dangerous. They say that she is a threat to the safety of British waters; they say that they need me to see to her.
See to her, a friendly euphemism for the carnage they want me to commit. I have no argument with that. Men may call the service they purchase from me what they want, so long as they purchase it with enough gold.
They say that I am the fiercest mercenary in the Royal Navy's employ.
When I finally meet her, I meet my match.
She captains a fleet, while I have only the one ship, but it should hardly matter. Crews are replaceable, and I can claim one of her ships as mine once I have laid waste to every living soul on it. Being immortal has its advantages.
When her men catch me, I laugh. They'll bring me to their captain, and I shall be the death of her. She is bound to be an impressive warrior, for a woman to bind so many men to her. I can't assume she fucks all of her crew; I don't know when she'd find the time or the energy to give them any orders.
They throw me on the floor of her cabin and I'm still laughing, face bloody from other people's wounds and my own, which are already gone. They've broken a few of my ribs but I feel them fusing back in place. I look up at her, and life stops hammering at my body for a moment.
For a moment, I see nothing but death.
I blink, and she is there with her pretty red lips and her almond shaped eyes, a face to damn yourself for, and I have to wonder if she has.
"Leave us," she says, without tearing her eyes off of me. Her men start to protest. "Leave us!" she repeats, voice cracking like a whip.
They obey.
I push up to my feet, watching her warily. She comes close, takes a deep lungful, and my hand slides under my vest, to the dagger they did not take from me. Her eyes look at me and say, I wouldn't if I were you, along with a scolding noise out of that pretty painted mouth.
I make to pull my blade on her but her hand is on my wrist before I have brought it even halfway to her neck. A grip of steel, a vice, and my wrist breaks, bones shattering in her hand. What is she, I think, and I see the glimmer of fangs before they pierce my flesh.
Life stills. For the time she is inside me, life stills, and I am dying.
When I come to she is studying me with attentive eyes, pale and inhuman. I don't ask her what she is, she doesn't ask me what I am.
I breathe, and am alive. "Do it again," I ask.
She complies with a greedy smile.
Did I give you the impression that I cared for money above all else? Let them keep their gold, I shall not destroy her.
"We are above their laws," she likes to say, and I have always agreed.
In the candlelight, her skin glows warmer colours than it truly possesses. Her eyes gleam of the possibilities of a thousand lives; in her eyes, immortality seems like a good thing. In her arms, death seems like a better one.
One of her fangs nicks my temple, and she licks over the faint cut before it closes. "What are you thinking about?"
I shift in her arms, skin sliding over skin until my lips find hers, tongue slipping into her mouth. My hand glides up her thigh, over hip and ribs, the swell of her breast, finding a home in her thick hair to guide her mouth where I want it. My jugular. "Do it again," I breathe, I live.
And then I die again.
Fandoms: Heroes, Moonlight
Summary: Dance with the lilies in the shadows of the valley - my lily of the valley of the shadow of death. ~ Skyclad, My Mother In Darkness
Notes: the whole blame for this fic can be put on the_grynne. Which indirectly also makes it transtempts' fault. I don't know where the first person narrative comes from; it surprised me, too.
Dance with the lillies in the shadows of the valley
They do not say that she is the fiercest, or the strongest, the most fearless or most dangerous. They say that she is a threat to the safety of British waters; they say that they need me to see to her.
See to her, a friendly euphemism for the carnage they want me to commit. I have no argument with that. Men may call the service they purchase from me what they want, so long as they purchase it with enough gold.
They say that I am the fiercest mercenary in the Royal Navy's employ.
When I finally meet her, I meet my match.
She captains a fleet, while I have only the one ship, but it should hardly matter. Crews are replaceable, and I can claim one of her ships as mine once I have laid waste to every living soul on it. Being immortal has its advantages.
When her men catch me, I laugh. They'll bring me to their captain, and I shall be the death of her. She is bound to be an impressive warrior, for a woman to bind so many men to her. I can't assume she fucks all of her crew; I don't know when she'd find the time or the energy to give them any orders.
They throw me on the floor of her cabin and I'm still laughing, face bloody from other people's wounds and my own, which are already gone. They've broken a few of my ribs but I feel them fusing back in place. I look up at her, and life stops hammering at my body for a moment.
For a moment, I see nothing but death.
I blink, and she is there with her pretty red lips and her almond shaped eyes, a face to damn yourself for, and I have to wonder if she has.
"Leave us," she says, without tearing her eyes off of me. Her men start to protest. "Leave us!" she repeats, voice cracking like a whip.
They obey.
I push up to my feet, watching her warily. She comes close, takes a deep lungful, and my hand slides under my vest, to the dagger they did not take from me. Her eyes look at me and say, I wouldn't if I were you, along with a scolding noise out of that pretty painted mouth.
I make to pull my blade on her but her hand is on my wrist before I have brought it even halfway to her neck. A grip of steel, a vice, and my wrist breaks, bones shattering in her hand. What is she, I think, and I see the glimmer of fangs before they pierce my flesh.
Life stills. For the time she is inside me, life stills, and I am dying.
When I come to she is studying me with attentive eyes, pale and inhuman. I don't ask her what she is, she doesn't ask me what I am.
I breathe, and am alive. "Do it again," I ask.
She complies with a greedy smile.
Did I give you the impression that I cared for money above all else? Let them keep their gold, I shall not destroy her.
"We are above their laws," she likes to say, and I have always agreed.
In the candlelight, her skin glows warmer colours than it truly possesses. Her eyes gleam of the possibilities of a thousand lives; in her eyes, immortality seems like a good thing. In her arms, death seems like a better one.
One of her fangs nicks my temple, and she licks over the faint cut before it closes. "What are you thinking about?"
I shift in her arms, skin sliding over skin until my lips find hers, tongue slipping into her mouth. My hand glides up her thigh, over hip and ribs, the swell of her breast, finding a home in her thick hair to guide her mouth where I want it. My jugular. "Do it again," I breathe, I live.
And then I die again.