[Lost Souls] "Bitter Ashes" (R)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="love_bingo">'s "make up sex". Zillah/Nothing, past Laine/Nothing. Contains canonic incest and implied vampiric violence. Title nicked from a song by Nox Arcana, featuring Michelle Belanger.
Word Count: 713
Laine lay still now, the bites and gashes in his flesh gone pale and bloodless from the family's feasting on his blood. Nothing sat back on his heels, staring down at the pale corpse sprawled on the floor of the van. By now Molochai and Twig had started yammering about whose turn it was to "take out the trash", like any other pair of siblings in any other family, or at least in the human families Nothing had known from his flimsy friendships in his old life.
"I did it the last time," Twig grumbled.
"Why don't the both of you be so kind?" Zillah said airily, laying back on the mattress, drifting on the current of chemicals and blood warming him, bringing color for the moment into his pale face.
"Why not have the new one take it out?" Molochai snapped back.
"No!" Nothing snapped. Zillah looked up at him, the lids of his lazy eyes narrowed, green irises honing in on his child. "You can't make me put him out: he was my friend."
"Making a little pet of the dead? Our bites won't bring him back, he won't become one of us," Zillah said. Then wrinkling his fine nose, he added, "He'll get stinky after a while. Did you keep the bones from your fried chicken after dinner in your old life?" Molochai and Twig looked at each other, giggling at this jab.
Nothing wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off Zillah's face with a back-handed slap, but he knew if he did that, he would be next, that his new family would turn on him and devour his blood before tossing him out with Laine. And for a split second he did not care if they threw him out. At least then he would be with Laine, who wouldn't have lay out there alone.
Zillah looked to Molochai and Twig. "Get on with it: take out the garbage," he said. They obeyed, wrapping the body in some of the ragged garments cast off on the floor and hauling him out the door and slamming it behind them, giving the two some privacy.
Nothing turned on the blood-stained mattress, putting his back to his lover and father. Somehow, that fact repulsed him less than Laine's death.
Zillah reached from behind, teasing Nothing's cheek with the gold and green and violet braid in his own hair. Nothing pulled away; Zillah circled Nothing, kneeling before the youngster, green eyes seeking Nothing's gaze.
"We are not as you are: we are more than the ones you lived among," Zillah cajoled. "They are weak and they fade, we live unfading as long as we feed on their blood and life and beauty."
"But why him?"
Zillah played with the zipper of Nothing's jeans, tugging it down. "Why not? We prefer the young and the pretty, though the old and the ugly will do when there's nothing else."
Nothing lifted a hand to bat Zillah away, but he couldn't strike the one who had given him life and seeded his mother. He punched the mattress instead. Zillah smirked. "Good boy," he said. "Remember this," he continued, teasing Nothing's shaft with his braid. "You have no friends now, no family but me and Molochai and Twig." He slid the braid around the base of Nothing's shaft loosely. "We'll always be here for you. Everything else will fade, but us. And don't I make you happy?" He grinned, showing his filed teeth, a mouth hinting at danger, but it could do other things, much more pleasant things. "Say yes, Nothing, please say yes. Stay with me, my love."
Nothing sighed, half from the teasing at his groin, half patiently. "Yes, Zillah, you do make me happy."
"Shall I make you happy now?" Zillah asked, running one black-painted nail down the back of Nothing's shaft, now starting to quicken. "Shall I make it up to you for that little spat?
"All right," Nothing said, laying back on the mattress.
Zillah grinned. "I knew you couldn't refuse me for long," he said, leaning over Nothing and burying his face in Nothing's groin. Nothing lay there, staring at the graffitoed ceiling of the van, one hand reaching to rest on Zillah's head.
The mattress still smelled of Laine.
Word Count: 713
Laine lay still now, the bites and gashes in his flesh gone pale and bloodless from the family's feasting on his blood. Nothing sat back on his heels, staring down at the pale corpse sprawled on the floor of the van. By now Molochai and Twig had started yammering about whose turn it was to "take out the trash", like any other pair of siblings in any other family, or at least in the human families Nothing had known from his flimsy friendships in his old life.
"I did it the last time," Twig grumbled.
"Why don't the both of you be so kind?" Zillah said airily, laying back on the mattress, drifting on the current of chemicals and blood warming him, bringing color for the moment into his pale face.
"Why not have the new one take it out?" Molochai snapped back.
"No!" Nothing snapped. Zillah looked up at him, the lids of his lazy eyes narrowed, green irises honing in on his child. "You can't make me put him out: he was my friend."
"Making a little pet of the dead? Our bites won't bring him back, he won't become one of us," Zillah said. Then wrinkling his fine nose, he added, "He'll get stinky after a while. Did you keep the bones from your fried chicken after dinner in your old life?" Molochai and Twig looked at each other, giggling at this jab.
Nothing wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off Zillah's face with a back-handed slap, but he knew if he did that, he would be next, that his new family would turn on him and devour his blood before tossing him out with Laine. And for a split second he did not care if they threw him out. At least then he would be with Laine, who wouldn't have lay out there alone.
Zillah looked to Molochai and Twig. "Get on with it: take out the garbage," he said. They obeyed, wrapping the body in some of the ragged garments cast off on the floor and hauling him out the door and slamming it behind them, giving the two some privacy.
Nothing turned on the blood-stained mattress, putting his back to his lover and father. Somehow, that fact repulsed him less than Laine's death.
Zillah reached from behind, teasing Nothing's cheek with the gold and green and violet braid in his own hair. Nothing pulled away; Zillah circled Nothing, kneeling before the youngster, green eyes seeking Nothing's gaze.
"We are not as you are: we are more than the ones you lived among," Zillah cajoled. "They are weak and they fade, we live unfading as long as we feed on their blood and life and beauty."
"But why him?"
Zillah played with the zipper of Nothing's jeans, tugging it down. "Why not? We prefer the young and the pretty, though the old and the ugly will do when there's nothing else."
Nothing lifted a hand to bat Zillah away, but he couldn't strike the one who had given him life and seeded his mother. He punched the mattress instead. Zillah smirked. "Good boy," he said. "Remember this," he continued, teasing Nothing's shaft with his braid. "You have no friends now, no family but me and Molochai and Twig." He slid the braid around the base of Nothing's shaft loosely. "We'll always be here for you. Everything else will fade, but us. And don't I make you happy?" He grinned, showing his filed teeth, a mouth hinting at danger, but it could do other things, much more pleasant things. "Say yes, Nothing, please say yes. Stay with me, my love."
Nothing sighed, half from the teasing at his groin, half patiently. "Yes, Zillah, you do make me happy."
"Shall I make you happy now?" Zillah asked, running one black-painted nail down the back of Nothing's shaft, now starting to quicken. "Shall I make it up to you for that little spat?
"All right," Nothing said, laying back on the mattress.
Zillah grinned. "I knew you couldn't refuse me for long," he said, leaning over Nothing and burying his face in Nothing's groin. Nothing lay there, staring at the graffitoed ceiling of the van, one hand reaching to rest on Zillah's head.
The mattress still smelled of Laine.