Carved Your Name Into Me, 5/5
Title: Carved Your Name Into Me
Author: lalowint
Fandoms: The Social Network, True Blood 'verse
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo, hints of Dustin/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,572 (this part)
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to any of the characters within The Social Network or the True Blood 'verse. I should probably claim no ownership to this 'verse...
A/N: It's still crack. I'm kinda down about a crummy comment I got (not here! somewhere else) but I wanted to thank every single person that has said nice things. I really appreciate the awesome people who've been sweet enough to say they dig this cracktastic story. Thank you! <3
. Part V .
It takes him 5 hours and 22 minutes to learn where Wardo is. Turns out the Winklevi do have connections he can use and they produce information to him eventually. For a price.
“A taste,” Tyler states with finality and Mark wants to choke him. Cameron stands next to his brother in their ridiculous townhouse and Mark sneers at them both.
“He’ll ruin everyone else for you forever. And if you come for him after that, I’ll show you how much worse I can do than burn a building down.”
“One taste,” Cameron replies.
Mark hedges but sees no other option.
“From a cup,” he sets as a condition. “No one touches him.”
“Afraid he might like it?” Tyler retorts and earns Mark’s wrathful glare.
“Agreed,” Cameron seals the deal before Tyler can blow it.
They give him the address where Wardo is being held, waiting for a night flight to where the fuck ever. It’s a rundown warehouse in the meat packing district of Boston and Mark can only smirk at how cliché the moron that stole Wardo is.
The moment he gets inside the building, disposing of a couple security vamps, Mark senses Wardo. That’s new. But Sean did say the blood sharing creates a bond. Mark wonders when his hearing and smell will die out.
As it is, his chest feels tight, tethered like an invisible length of rope that ties to Wardo as his destination. He follows the line into the depths of the warehouse, cutting off two more security guards before they send out a warning call.
Then suddenly he’s at a door of silver and his anchor, the other end of his line, is in there. His hands burn on the wheel that turns and turns to unlock the door and the skin on his palms is gone by the time it swings open but he somehow feels no pain because Wardo is there.
His pomme de vie’s arms are stretched above his head with silver cuffs but he looks intact. He’s dirty and sweated over his shirtless chest and if it were any other time, Mark would enjoy the view of Wardo chained up and waiting.
His head rises to see Mark but he’s not surprised. He must feel the connection too.
“Mark,” he sobs. “It’s a trap.”
“Of course it is,” he remarks, at Wardo’s side in a blink and looking for the easiest way to get his numb, scorched hands on more silver. “Whoever took you has to eliminate your last owner because he knows I’ll never stop coming after you.”
“It’s weird when you call yourself my owner,” he says, propping his head against the cement wall holding his chains. Maybe Mark can just tear them out.
“You like it,” he remarks and Wardo huffs.
“It’s the king, Mark,” his voice goes hush. “He tried to make me drink his blood but I didn’t, I swear.”
Mark frowns. “Make you drink from him? Why the fuck would he do that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care! Just get the fuck out of here!” he orders and Wardo’s neck gets all veiny when he’s worked up. It’s kind of amusing.
“No.”
He still doesn’t feel the burn of the chain links as he rips the shackles from the wall in a cloud of dust and debris.
Wardo’s arms are free and a moment later Mark feels the presence of Sean Parker in the doorway.
“Hey Mark.”
“Hey,” he says, facing the centuries-older vampire.
Sean smiles pleasantly and Mark can feel Wardo’s fear and anxiety behind him. That’s new too. Okay, the sharing-emotions feeling is weird.
“Kinda let your guard down, buddy,” Sean sighs. “Can’t do that with pomme de vies. Vampires are ruthless. They’ll just sneak into your house and take what they want.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Mark replies, waiting. Waiting for Sean to make a move.
“Sorry about the whole 'He's a siryn' spiel before,” he says like he’s really not. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Didn’t think it was,” Mark shrugs. Sean killed other vamps to get to a pomme de vie; he knew it wasn’t personal. It’s just Wardo and the things they’ll do to have him.
Sean nods like they’ve come to an understanding. “All right. It was nice meeting you, man.”
“Mark-“ Wardo whispers and his panic rises through Mark like mercury, hot and swift.
Mark draws the soiled stake he used to break in and suddenly feels… full. Like his throat is closed up and his chest has expanded too much.
And Wardo’s screaming and his terror makes Mark’s bones feel hollow and breakable.
“Mark!”
He looks down. There’s a stake through his sternum. The point shines at him. But he doesn’t get it... Nothing happens.
Sean has sped back around to his front after impaling him through the back and scoffs.
“You fucking liar. You said he hadn’t had your blood.”
Mark doesn’t take the moment for granted and buries the stake in his hand through Sean’s center.
The king of New York wheezes a final, “Fuck,” then he’s wet matter, spilled over the concrete floor in a deformed mess.
They’re silent for a long while, staring at the gurgling goop that was Sean Parker on the ground. Mark has all of Wardo’s emotions curling over one another inside him like a basket of snakes - fear, relief, worry.
Wardo gazes at him with unrealistic, doe eyes.
“You’re not… exploding.”
“I know.”
His lips purse to shape the word slowly. “…why?”
Mark eyes the pointy end protruding from his chest and bites his lip. Sean had said…
“Mark, come here,” he reaches out with chiming links of heavy, silver dangling from his wrists. “Come here.”
Mark sinks to his knees beside him and lets Wardo position him around. The stake jostles as Wardo gets a grip from the back and he warns only, “Ready?”
Mark nods and he’s not sure if the fear welling in his stomach is his or Wardo’s anymore.
It comes out with a thick squish and Mark’s actually cringing from the sound instead of reacting to the fact that there’s a hole in his fucking chest. Wardo discards the offensive weapon and pastes his palms over both wounds, one on his chest and the other between his shoulder blades.
“It’s okay,” he breathes, obviously to reassure himself a little more than Mark. “You’re okay.”
“It’s you,” Mark realizes and Wardo frowns with confusion. “He said it was you taking my blood. He warned me before not to let you have it; he said it would make me weak. But it’s made me…”
Fucking invincible.
He can’t even finish the sentence because he feels so good. Wardo senses his elation and eyeballs the hole.
“It doesn’t hurt or anything?”
“No, I can’t feel it at all. Wardo, are you listening to me? I’m invulnerable.”
“Mark, we don’t know that…”
“You’re a demigod: maybe when you take my blood some of your godly invincibility protects me or something.”
“I’m a what?” Wardo’s expression rounds.
Oh right. “You’re a demigod.”
He’s nodding but his face has gone hazy and he murmurs, “Sure. That makes perfect sense.”
“It does. It’s why he tried to make you drink his blood; why he lied to keep me from doing it. He knew it would make me invulnerable. My hands are already healed...” Mark’s on a roll and it does make sense. Everything. He shakes his head with a sigh. “No wonder vampires want you so bad. It's, like, an ingrained drive; somehow we know you can make us invulnerable.”
Something stutters in his chest and he slowly senses that it’s doubt. It’s Wardo’s hesitant doubt.
“It’s why you want me so bad,” he quietly says. It’s not a question. His emotions teeter on believing it.
“No,” Mark answers, definitively.
Wardo’s still holding the open wounds but his eyes are cast down and he’s so close, Mark could lean over and kiss him. And he feels it through his bones; he wants Wardo for him. Bad movies and nerdy weather pattern reading and a gentle hand at the back of his neck when he codes too long. All of it.
He has no doubt.
His pomme de vie softens, feeling the certainty and affection pouring out of Mark.
“This emotion-sensing is weird,” Wardo gently smiles.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Mark concurs and Wardo’s grin is like sunshine.
Sunshine.
“Holy shit, I wonder if it works in the sun…”
“Let’s just get home and figure the rest out later,” he says and lifts the hand on his chest. The gash already looks better but Wardo’s palm is stained red with Mark’s blood. He studies it for a long moment and Mark can feel his anticipation, his need, growing inside.
“Well, if you’re right,” Wardo hums and locks eyes with him. “Just in case.”
And he drags his tongue across his palm, lapping the blood into his mouth without breaking eye contact. The spike of pure fucking lust and adoration that hits Mark startles him.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Wardo swallows the blood on his tongue and Mark feels his love returned, like a warm hand curled around his heart. With the strength of that reaction, he expects Wardo to say it out loud like he did.
But his pomme de vie smiles, joyful and bright, and says only:
“Yeah.”
. Epilogue .
Author: lalowint
Fandoms: The Social Network, True Blood 'verse
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo, hints of Dustin/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,572 (this part)
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to any of the characters within The Social Network or the True Blood 'verse. I should probably claim no ownership to this 'verse...
A/N: It's still crack. I'm kinda down about a crummy comment I got (not here! somewhere else) but I wanted to thank every single person that has said nice things. I really appreciate the awesome people who've been sweet enough to say they dig this cracktastic story. Thank you! <3
. Part V .
It takes him 5 hours and 22 minutes to learn where Wardo is. Turns out the Winklevi do have connections he can use and they produce information to him eventually. For a price.
“A taste,” Tyler states with finality and Mark wants to choke him. Cameron stands next to his brother in their ridiculous townhouse and Mark sneers at them both.
“He’ll ruin everyone else for you forever. And if you come for him after that, I’ll show you how much worse I can do than burn a building down.”
“One taste,” Cameron replies.
Mark hedges but sees no other option.
“From a cup,” he sets as a condition. “No one touches him.”
“Afraid he might like it?” Tyler retorts and earns Mark’s wrathful glare.
“Agreed,” Cameron seals the deal before Tyler can blow it.
They give him the address where Wardo is being held, waiting for a night flight to where the fuck ever. It’s a rundown warehouse in the meat packing district of Boston and Mark can only smirk at how cliché the moron that stole Wardo is.
The moment he gets inside the building, disposing of a couple security vamps, Mark senses Wardo. That’s new. But Sean did say the blood sharing creates a bond. Mark wonders when his hearing and smell will die out.
As it is, his chest feels tight, tethered like an invisible length of rope that ties to Wardo as his destination. He follows the line into the depths of the warehouse, cutting off two more security guards before they send out a warning call.
Then suddenly he’s at a door of silver and his anchor, the other end of his line, is in there. His hands burn on the wheel that turns and turns to unlock the door and the skin on his palms is gone by the time it swings open but he somehow feels no pain because Wardo is there.
His pomme de vie’s arms are stretched above his head with silver cuffs but he looks intact. He’s dirty and sweated over his shirtless chest and if it were any other time, Mark would enjoy the view of Wardo chained up and waiting.
His head rises to see Mark but he’s not surprised. He must feel the connection too.
“Mark,” he sobs. “It’s a trap.”
“Of course it is,” he remarks, at Wardo’s side in a blink and looking for the easiest way to get his numb, scorched hands on more silver. “Whoever took you has to eliminate your last owner because he knows I’ll never stop coming after you.”
“It’s weird when you call yourself my owner,” he says, propping his head against the cement wall holding his chains. Maybe Mark can just tear them out.
“You like it,” he remarks and Wardo huffs.
“It’s the king, Mark,” his voice goes hush. “He tried to make me drink his blood but I didn’t, I swear.”
Mark frowns. “Make you drink from him? Why the fuck would he do that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care! Just get the fuck out of here!” he orders and Wardo’s neck gets all veiny when he’s worked up. It’s kind of amusing.
“No.”
He still doesn’t feel the burn of the chain links as he rips the shackles from the wall in a cloud of dust and debris.
Wardo’s arms are free and a moment later Mark feels the presence of Sean Parker in the doorway.
“Hey Mark.”
“Hey,” he says, facing the centuries-older vampire.
Sean smiles pleasantly and Mark can feel Wardo’s fear and anxiety behind him. That’s new too. Okay, the sharing-emotions feeling is weird.
“Kinda let your guard down, buddy,” Sean sighs. “Can’t do that with pomme de vies. Vampires are ruthless. They’ll just sneak into your house and take what they want.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Mark replies, waiting. Waiting for Sean to make a move.
“Sorry about the whole 'He's a siryn' spiel before,” he says like he’s really not. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Didn’t think it was,” Mark shrugs. Sean killed other vamps to get to a pomme de vie; he knew it wasn’t personal. It’s just Wardo and the things they’ll do to have him.
Sean nods like they’ve come to an understanding. “All right. It was nice meeting you, man.”
“Mark-“ Wardo whispers and his panic rises through Mark like mercury, hot and swift.
Mark draws the soiled stake he used to break in and suddenly feels… full. Like his throat is closed up and his chest has expanded too much.
And Wardo’s screaming and his terror makes Mark’s bones feel hollow and breakable.
“Mark!”
He looks down. There’s a stake through his sternum. The point shines at him. But he doesn’t get it... Nothing happens.
Sean has sped back around to his front after impaling him through the back and scoffs.
“You fucking liar. You said he hadn’t had your blood.”
Mark doesn’t take the moment for granted and buries the stake in his hand through Sean’s center.
The king of New York wheezes a final, “Fuck,” then he’s wet matter, spilled over the concrete floor in a deformed mess.
They’re silent for a long while, staring at the gurgling goop that was Sean Parker on the ground. Mark has all of Wardo’s emotions curling over one another inside him like a basket of snakes - fear, relief, worry.
Wardo gazes at him with unrealistic, doe eyes.
“You’re not… exploding.”
“I know.”
His lips purse to shape the word slowly. “…why?”
Mark eyes the pointy end protruding from his chest and bites his lip. Sean had said…
“Mark, come here,” he reaches out with chiming links of heavy, silver dangling from his wrists. “Come here.”
Mark sinks to his knees beside him and lets Wardo position him around. The stake jostles as Wardo gets a grip from the back and he warns only, “Ready?”
Mark nods and he’s not sure if the fear welling in his stomach is his or Wardo’s anymore.
It comes out with a thick squish and Mark’s actually cringing from the sound instead of reacting to the fact that there’s a hole in his fucking chest. Wardo discards the offensive weapon and pastes his palms over both wounds, one on his chest and the other between his shoulder blades.
“It’s okay,” he breathes, obviously to reassure himself a little more than Mark. “You’re okay.”
“It’s you,” Mark realizes and Wardo frowns with confusion. “He said it was you taking my blood. He warned me before not to let you have it; he said it would make me weak. But it’s made me…”
Fucking invincible.
He can’t even finish the sentence because he feels so good. Wardo senses his elation and eyeballs the hole.
“It doesn’t hurt or anything?”
“No, I can’t feel it at all. Wardo, are you listening to me? I’m invulnerable.”
“Mark, we don’t know that…”
“You’re a demigod: maybe when you take my blood some of your godly invincibility protects me or something.”
“I’m a what?” Wardo’s expression rounds.
Oh right. “You’re a demigod.”
He’s nodding but his face has gone hazy and he murmurs, “Sure. That makes perfect sense.”
“It does. It’s why he tried to make you drink his blood; why he lied to keep me from doing it. He knew it would make me invulnerable. My hands are already healed...” Mark’s on a roll and it does make sense. Everything. He shakes his head with a sigh. “No wonder vampires want you so bad. It's, like, an ingrained drive; somehow we know you can make us invulnerable.”
Something stutters in his chest and he slowly senses that it’s doubt. It’s Wardo’s hesitant doubt.
“It’s why you want me so bad,” he quietly says. It’s not a question. His emotions teeter on believing it.
“No,” Mark answers, definitively.
Wardo’s still holding the open wounds but his eyes are cast down and he’s so close, Mark could lean over and kiss him. And he feels it through his bones; he wants Wardo for him. Bad movies and nerdy weather pattern reading and a gentle hand at the back of his neck when he codes too long. All of it.
He has no doubt.
His pomme de vie softens, feeling the certainty and affection pouring out of Mark.
“This emotion-sensing is weird,” Wardo gently smiles.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Mark concurs and Wardo’s grin is like sunshine.
Sunshine.
“Holy shit, I wonder if it works in the sun…”
“Let’s just get home and figure the rest out later,” he says and lifts the hand on his chest. The gash already looks better but Wardo’s palm is stained red with Mark’s blood. He studies it for a long moment and Mark can feel his anticipation, his need, growing inside.
“Well, if you’re right,” Wardo hums and locks eyes with him. “Just in case.”
And he drags his tongue across his palm, lapping the blood into his mouth without breaking eye contact. The spike of pure fucking lust and adoration that hits Mark startles him.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Wardo swallows the blood on his tongue and Mark feels his love returned, like a warm hand curled around his heart. With the strength of that reaction, he expects Wardo to say it out loud like he did.
But his pomme de vie smiles, joyful and bright, and says only:
“Yeah.”
. Epilogue .