Fic: Cover Me With Flowers
Title: Cover Me With Flowers
Author: Glitter Vampire
Pairing: Adam / Kris
Rating: NC-17 (language), slash
Wordcount:
Notes: A follow-up to And He Moves. For the music, rightclicksave. This story is just me, playing around and twisting every vampire legend you've ever read around onto its head. You'll recognise some bits, others not so much. There are familiar words and weird words. I'm just having a hell of a lot of fun playing in this universe. (P.S. If you can't find the kisses, they come right at the end *g*)
Three days. That was all it took for Adam to fulfil the potential that Kristopher had observed in him. Three fucking days. Every other nestling that Kristopher had watched over took weeks, at best - usually months - to fully embrace their nature.
Not Adam. Within three days Adam was as old as Kristopher, or so it seemed. The other vipers wouldn't go near him, parted before him, closed behind him, eyes always on him. Petty jealousies ran rife in a nest such as The Falque, but this was something different, something Kristopher had never experienced before in his overlong life.
This was awe, and not a little fear. He watched, intrigued, as centuries-old sanguisuges scutinised from afar, trying to figure this new little beast out. They couldn't touch him, couldn't even get close to him. When they parted and closed as he passed them, it was a gut response; a visceral reaction from those for whom viscera had long since ceased to be an issue. They literally could not get near him, unless he permitted it.
"Has he let anyone in yet?"
"Who?" Kristopher tightened his arm around the boy currently lounging across his lap, held still as a summer night, breathing softly. His pretty little doll. So sweet.
"The Prince... ohhh, that's good..."
Kristopher worried at the boy's wrist, his laugh low and rough. "Is that what they're calling him?" For a viper with one long fang embedded deep into the median anti-brachial vein his speech was surprisingly clear. Still, he'd had millennia of practice.
The boy squirmed. "Uh-huh. I heard them trying to decide on a name for him. They came up with all sorts of fancy shit: Silk, Brat Prince. In the end they just settled on The Prince. Suits him, don't you think?"
Kristopher flicked his gaze up to the boy's face. There was that awe again, like Adam was the second fucking coming or something. He was four days old, for fuck's sake. What had Kristopher birthed here; a fucking monster?
He tugged, drawing harder, and the boy whimpered.
"They're... ohhh... they're scared of him, Kris."
"I know." Slowly, Kristopher pulled away, looking down at the boy. "Are you?"
A slender finger touched his still-bloodied fang. "No. Not with you around. You made him. You're still more powerful than he is." There was a pause, then the boy tilted his head. "You think that's why they're scared? They've never had to deal with that kind of power, other than yours?"
Kristopher slapped the boy's cheek gently. "Are you suggesting that I'm getting predictable in my dotage?"
"Wouldn't dream of it." The boy lunged up to lap at that fang, cleaning it. "Pretty doesn't equal dumb, y'know. This is where my bread's buttered, and I like licking the knife."
"Your food analogies get weirder by the day, Brad. You hungry?" Kristopher's hand was unusually tender, tousling the boy's soft hair. "You usually are after giving."
"Fucking starving. Mind if I hit the kitchens?" Brad flashed him a sunny smile, and Kristopher returned it crookedly.
"Be my guest. It's not as though they'll be in use until later--"
Brad was already on his feet and moving to the door. He was halfway through when Kristopher called after him:
"Make sure you don't touch the cheese! Fuchsia will have your guts for garters if her girl doesn't get her cheese and pickle sandwich."
"Yeah yeah." A disembodied hand waved at him behind the open door. "Don't crack a tooth, gorgeous. I'll have ham."
Kristopher smiled, shaking his head. Brad was adorable, but sometimes he had way too much energy for a Temporal, especially when he'd been giving. That was the beauty of his doll, though: simple, uncomplicated, easygoing, and apparently full of beans, no matter what. Brad was a gem and - despite his words to Adam that night - it was Brad to whom Kristopher first went when he wanted just a taste and couldn't be bothered with the hunt.
"Eigne?"
He looked up. A shock of bright reddish-pink hair, shot through with streaks of purple, was peeking around the still-open door.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Kristopher schooled his features into a welcoming smile. He didn't mind certain people intruding into his private rooms: Brad, Adam, and Fuchsia here were the three he minded least, but Fuchsia tended to drag her doll around with her rather like a little girl trailing her toys behind her. He was pretty damned sure that Megan was hovering just behind the door, peering in, examining the forbidden rooms.
"Message for you." Fuchsia stepped into the room and flapped a hand behind her, clearly admonishing Megan to stay back. "From The Prince."
Kristopher managed to curtail his eyeroll just in time. Adam deserved the same respect as any other viper here, no matter how pretentious the name they had bestowed upon him.
"What does he want?"
Fuchsia was a talented little thing, he thought, as he watched her cute-as-a-button face transform until he saw Adam's eyes, Adam's nose, and Adam's mouth, curved into his customary sardonic smile. Moments later, Adam's voice left her throat:
"Requesting the pleasure of your company, Eigne." She bowed, and it was Adam through and through: elegant, yet mocking. "I'm bored."
Slowly, Adam's features receded and Fuchsia's pretty face returned. She arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for a reply.
"I'll deliver it myself," Kristopher said, rising from the couch. "Thank you, sweetheart. You'd better tell Megan there to check the fridge. Brad went on a raid not five minutes ago, and although I told him not to touch the cheese--"
The scuffle of feet told him that he didn't need to finish, and he and Fuchsia exchanged a grin. Her fangs belied her sweet appearance in the low light, and Kristopher murmured, "Looking good tonight. Up for the hunt, are you?"
"Mmhm. Does he ever hunt?"
"Who? Oh, Adam? I believe so." What in blazes' name was it with all these questions since Adam arrived here?
"I never see him go out. He's always holed up down there." Fuchsia shuddered. "Y'know, I like creepy places as much as the next viper, but I couldn't live down there. Too big. Too empty."
"He likes the space." Kristopher patted her arm, gently hustling her from the room until he could close and lock the door behind him. Not that a lock would ever stop any of them, if they wanted to get in.
"What's it like down there?" she asked, conversationally, as he guided her away from his rooms. "I only saw it once. Has he furnished it?"
Chatter chatter chatter.
"I believe so." The same, bland reply as always. Kristopher knew that Adam loved the mystique that surrounded him. Nobody but the Eldest was permitted to visit the huge underground rooms that Adam occupied alone. Nobody but the Eldest knew that the sole piece of furniture in the cavernous bricked space was a leather chaise, draped with a heavy jet-beaded black silk throw.
As he descended the stairs into the darkness, he could smell something familiar, something that took him back centuries. The door at the bottom of the stairs was open and a blue haze seeped out.
He stepped inside, boot heels clicking on the dry brick floor. Amber. Adam was burning amber. Bowls of it were scattered around the floor, coils of the aromatic smoke drifting lazily up to the high, arched ceiling.
"Thought it might make you feel more at home."
Adam's voice drifted out from the middle of the enormous space beneath The Falque, coiling around him as languid as the smoke. As Kristopher turned the corner, rounding one of the huge pillars, he could see the bright glow of candles surrounding Adam's chaise, reflecting off the polished black leather. One bowl of burning amber stood at each corner of the chaise, and on it...
Kristopher's lips quirked. He hadn't known, when he brought Adam to this life, that his firstborn was an entertainer. Presentation was everything to him, and here he presented a beautiful prospect. Lounging on the couch in black silk and leather, one finger raised to the side of his nose, eyes closed as if deep in thought. Every inch The Prince.
"Bored, are you?" Kristopher's voice echoed through the cavernous room as he approached, and Adam's eyes flicked open, pale ice.
"Terribly. You play with your little dolly far too much." Adam lowered his hand and leaned back just a little, surveying Kristopher as the Eigne came to a halt at the foot of the chaise. "You like toying with soft and sweet, don't you?"
"Soft and sweet has been with me for many years," Kristopher said softly. "He's devoted and has served me well."
One dark brow raised in amusement. "Ice cream and lemonade. Fluffy meringues and apricot jam. Sweet and sticky little boy." Adam's tongue rolled around the words, lacing them with sins they should never possess. "Is that what you have for dinner now, Kristopher?"
"Maybe you should get a doll of your own, Adam." Kristopher sat on the edge of the chaise. "I could find you a pretty one, you know. We have some real beauties upstairs in the club almost every night, if you'd only come up and take a look."
The reply was a grimace. "I don't want one, or need one. If I'm hungry, I hunt. Simple."
"And when you're not?" Kristopher gentled a hand against Adam's cheek. So beautiful. He's exquisite. How do I manage to forget his perfection when I'm away from him? Why does he hide away down here?
If Kristopher had expected a snappy or witty reply, he was surprised. Adam's pale gaze grew mournful. "You've fed," he said, clearly feeling the warmth from Brad's giving that still lingered in Kristopher's palm.
He sounded disappointed.
"What's this about?" Kristopher pressed, stroking gently, not taking his hand away from Adam's face. "You didn't just call me down here because you were bored, did you?"
Adam turned his face to Kristopher's hand, nuzzling his palm. "No," he whispered, ghosting his lips over the faint warmth of the Eigne's skin. As his lips parted so his fangs lengthened, glinting stark white in the flickering candlelight, and there was no doubt left in Kristopher's mind now: the reason why the nest couldn't get close to him, the reason for their fear and awe.
He was the Eigne's firstborn.
Of course. The viper legends had told of this for centuries. Why hadn't Kristopher realised? Adam was undiluted. Pureborn. No other had received what he'd had: a birth from the most ancient, untouched viper existing on this miserable little planet.
Adam was four days old, and almost as powerful as Kristopher himself. And he was smiling against Kristopher's palm, pressing gentle, teasing little kisses down to his wrist, as though... he knew.
"Fancy staying for dinner?" he whispered, and one long fang sank deep under flesh.
***
Author's note: Please be advised that this fic is currently on hiatus.
Author: Glitter Vampire
Pairing: Adam / Kris
Rating: NC-17 (language), slash
Wordcount:
Notes: A follow-up to And He Moves. For the music, rightclicksave. This story is just me, playing around and twisting every vampire legend you've ever read around onto its head. You'll recognise some bits, others not so much. There are familiar words and weird words. I'm just having a hell of a lot of fun playing in this universe. (P.S. If you can't find the kisses, they come right at the end *g*)
Three days. That was all it took for Adam to fulfil the potential that Kristopher had observed in him. Three fucking days. Every other nestling that Kristopher had watched over took weeks, at best - usually months - to fully embrace their nature.
Not Adam. Within three days Adam was as old as Kristopher, or so it seemed. The other vipers wouldn't go near him, parted before him, closed behind him, eyes always on him. Petty jealousies ran rife in a nest such as The Falque, but this was something different, something Kristopher had never experienced before in his overlong life.
This was awe, and not a little fear. He watched, intrigued, as centuries-old sanguisuges scutinised from afar, trying to figure this new little beast out. They couldn't touch him, couldn't even get close to him. When they parted and closed as he passed them, it was a gut response; a visceral reaction from those for whom viscera had long since ceased to be an issue. They literally could not get near him, unless he permitted it.
"Has he let anyone in yet?"
"Who?" Kristopher tightened his arm around the boy currently lounging across his lap, held still as a summer night, breathing softly. His pretty little doll. So sweet.
"The Prince... ohhh, that's good..."
Kristopher worried at the boy's wrist, his laugh low and rough. "Is that what they're calling him?" For a viper with one long fang embedded deep into the median anti-brachial vein his speech was surprisingly clear. Still, he'd had millennia of practice.
The boy squirmed. "Uh-huh. I heard them trying to decide on a name for him. They came up with all sorts of fancy shit: Silk, Brat Prince. In the end they just settled on The Prince. Suits him, don't you think?"
Kristopher flicked his gaze up to the boy's face. There was that awe again, like Adam was the second fucking coming or something. He was four days old, for fuck's sake. What had Kristopher birthed here; a fucking monster?
He tugged, drawing harder, and the boy whimpered.
"They're... ohhh... they're scared of him, Kris."
"I know." Slowly, Kristopher pulled away, looking down at the boy. "Are you?"
A slender finger touched his still-bloodied fang. "No. Not with you around. You made him. You're still more powerful than he is." There was a pause, then the boy tilted his head. "You think that's why they're scared? They've never had to deal with that kind of power, other than yours?"
Kristopher slapped the boy's cheek gently. "Are you suggesting that I'm getting predictable in my dotage?"
"Wouldn't dream of it." The boy lunged up to lap at that fang, cleaning it. "Pretty doesn't equal dumb, y'know. This is where my bread's buttered, and I like licking the knife."
"Your food analogies get weirder by the day, Brad. You hungry?" Kristopher's hand was unusually tender, tousling the boy's soft hair. "You usually are after giving."
"Fucking starving. Mind if I hit the kitchens?" Brad flashed him a sunny smile, and Kristopher returned it crookedly.
"Be my guest. It's not as though they'll be in use until later--"
Brad was already on his feet and moving to the door. He was halfway through when Kristopher called after him:
"Make sure you don't touch the cheese! Fuchsia will have your guts for garters if her girl doesn't get her cheese and pickle sandwich."
"Yeah yeah." A disembodied hand waved at him behind the open door. "Don't crack a tooth, gorgeous. I'll have ham."
Kristopher smiled, shaking his head. Brad was adorable, but sometimes he had way too much energy for a Temporal, especially when he'd been giving. That was the beauty of his doll, though: simple, uncomplicated, easygoing, and apparently full of beans, no matter what. Brad was a gem and - despite his words to Adam that night - it was Brad to whom Kristopher first went when he wanted just a taste and couldn't be bothered with the hunt.
"Eigne?"
He looked up. A shock of bright reddish-pink hair, shot through with streaks of purple, was peeking around the still-open door.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Kristopher schooled his features into a welcoming smile. He didn't mind certain people intruding into his private rooms: Brad, Adam, and Fuchsia here were the three he minded least, but Fuchsia tended to drag her doll around with her rather like a little girl trailing her toys behind her. He was pretty damned sure that Megan was hovering just behind the door, peering in, examining the forbidden rooms.
"Message for you." Fuchsia stepped into the room and flapped a hand behind her, clearly admonishing Megan to stay back. "From The Prince."
Kristopher managed to curtail his eyeroll just in time. Adam deserved the same respect as any other viper here, no matter how pretentious the name they had bestowed upon him.
"What does he want?"
Fuchsia was a talented little thing, he thought, as he watched her cute-as-a-button face transform until he saw Adam's eyes, Adam's nose, and Adam's mouth, curved into his customary sardonic smile. Moments later, Adam's voice left her throat:
"Requesting the pleasure of your company, Eigne." She bowed, and it was Adam through and through: elegant, yet mocking. "I'm bored."
Slowly, Adam's features receded and Fuchsia's pretty face returned. She arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for a reply.
"I'll deliver it myself," Kristopher said, rising from the couch. "Thank you, sweetheart. You'd better tell Megan there to check the fridge. Brad went on a raid not five minutes ago, and although I told him not to touch the cheese--"
The scuffle of feet told him that he didn't need to finish, and he and Fuchsia exchanged a grin. Her fangs belied her sweet appearance in the low light, and Kristopher murmured, "Looking good tonight. Up for the hunt, are you?"
"Mmhm. Does he ever hunt?"
"Who? Oh, Adam? I believe so." What in blazes' name was it with all these questions since Adam arrived here?
"I never see him go out. He's always holed up down there." Fuchsia shuddered. "Y'know, I like creepy places as much as the next viper, but I couldn't live down there. Too big. Too empty."
"He likes the space." Kristopher patted her arm, gently hustling her from the room until he could close and lock the door behind him. Not that a lock would ever stop any of them, if they wanted to get in.
"What's it like down there?" she asked, conversationally, as he guided her away from his rooms. "I only saw it once. Has he furnished it?"
Chatter chatter chatter.
"I believe so." The same, bland reply as always. Kristopher knew that Adam loved the mystique that surrounded him. Nobody but the Eldest was permitted to visit the huge underground rooms that Adam occupied alone. Nobody but the Eldest knew that the sole piece of furniture in the cavernous bricked space was a leather chaise, draped with a heavy jet-beaded black silk throw.
As he descended the stairs into the darkness, he could smell something familiar, something that took him back centuries. The door at the bottom of the stairs was open and a blue haze seeped out.
He stepped inside, boot heels clicking on the dry brick floor. Amber. Adam was burning amber. Bowls of it were scattered around the floor, coils of the aromatic smoke drifting lazily up to the high, arched ceiling.
"Thought it might make you feel more at home."
Adam's voice drifted out from the middle of the enormous space beneath The Falque, coiling around him as languid as the smoke. As Kristopher turned the corner, rounding one of the huge pillars, he could see the bright glow of candles surrounding Adam's chaise, reflecting off the polished black leather. One bowl of burning amber stood at each corner of the chaise, and on it...
Kristopher's lips quirked. He hadn't known, when he brought Adam to this life, that his firstborn was an entertainer. Presentation was everything to him, and here he presented a beautiful prospect. Lounging on the couch in black silk and leather, one finger raised to the side of his nose, eyes closed as if deep in thought. Every inch The Prince.
"Bored, are you?" Kristopher's voice echoed through the cavernous room as he approached, and Adam's eyes flicked open, pale ice.
"Terribly. You play with your little dolly far too much." Adam lowered his hand and leaned back just a little, surveying Kristopher as the Eigne came to a halt at the foot of the chaise. "You like toying with soft and sweet, don't you?"
"Soft and sweet has been with me for many years," Kristopher said softly. "He's devoted and has served me well."
One dark brow raised in amusement. "Ice cream and lemonade. Fluffy meringues and apricot jam. Sweet and sticky little boy." Adam's tongue rolled around the words, lacing them with sins they should never possess. "Is that what you have for dinner now, Kristopher?"
"Maybe you should get a doll of your own, Adam." Kristopher sat on the edge of the chaise. "I could find you a pretty one, you know. We have some real beauties upstairs in the club almost every night, if you'd only come up and take a look."
The reply was a grimace. "I don't want one, or need one. If I'm hungry, I hunt. Simple."
"And when you're not?" Kristopher gentled a hand against Adam's cheek. So beautiful. He's exquisite. How do I manage to forget his perfection when I'm away from him? Why does he hide away down here?
If Kristopher had expected a snappy or witty reply, he was surprised. Adam's pale gaze grew mournful. "You've fed," he said, clearly feeling the warmth from Brad's giving that still lingered in Kristopher's palm.
He sounded disappointed.
"What's this about?" Kristopher pressed, stroking gently, not taking his hand away from Adam's face. "You didn't just call me down here because you were bored, did you?"
Adam turned his face to Kristopher's hand, nuzzling his palm. "No," he whispered, ghosting his lips over the faint warmth of the Eigne's skin. As his lips parted so his fangs lengthened, glinting stark white in the flickering candlelight, and there was no doubt left in Kristopher's mind now: the reason why the nest couldn't get close to him, the reason for their fear and awe.
He was the Eigne's firstborn.
Of course. The viper legends had told of this for centuries. Why hadn't Kristopher realised? Adam was undiluted. Pureborn. No other had received what he'd had: a birth from the most ancient, untouched viper existing on this miserable little planet.
Adam was four days old, and almost as powerful as Kristopher himself. And he was smiling against Kristopher's palm, pressing gentle, teasing little kisses down to his wrist, as though... he knew.
"Fancy staying for dinner?" he whispered, and one long fang sank deep under flesh.
***
Author's note: Please be advised that this fic is currently on hiatus.