Fic: Meatsuit
Title: Meatsuit
Fandom: Being Human US
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Aidan/Henry, one-sided Bishop/Aidan
Summary: In the end, the pain was worth the prize. After hundreds of years of loneliness, Aidan was his. The flesh mattered little if the mind could stay strong.
Notes: This idea popped into my head last week and refused to leave me alone. So I wrote it.
Disclaimer: Not my show, not my characters. Deal with it.
It had taken lifetimes, but he had finally done it. Finally earned it. Found that elusive thing that he’d sought for years.
There was a hand resting lightly on his hip, fingers tinged crimson with old blood. A head of dark hair was resting on his chest, nose taking in the scent of him with each deep, even breath. The bites and bruises on his body were already healing, blood and semen cooling and staining the sheets around them.
A dream come true, right on the tail of a nightmarish life.
He could still feel the pain of his death, raw and burning around his throat, skin ripped wide as his life spilled across the floor. It had been a mild nuisance when compared to a lifetime of need, years of searching for redemption and trust and love, alone in the wilderness surrounded by other people. The lonely nights beat every kind of pain, even the slow, steady tear of skin from muscle.
The last bit had been easy to bear, sliding back in his mind, letting the baser instincts take over, giving the body to Suren’s knife while his mind remained free and unharmed.
The loneliness hurt more than any physical pain he’d ever felt, and that was why it was worth it. The means endurable for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Aidan.
Aidan was worth it. The loss, the pain, the torture. Death. Aidan made it ok, Aidan invited him in, took care of him, took him to bed. They were both lonely, both searching, both desperate.
It had been rough, with Suren back in the picture. He could still see the stake in Aidan’s hands if he closed his eyes long enough, could still hear his own voice pleading for forgiveness and understanding. A son’s plea to a father, the inevitable escape.
They kissed and made up. Things were better than he’d imagined they could be, better than he had hoped. He was welcomed, finally home, accepted.
He leaned down and laid a soft kiss on the top of Aidan’s head, stirring the other vampire. Aidan looked up at him and smiled, eyelids drooping as he fought sleep. “Love you,” he whispered before his head dropped back to its place, eyes closing as he succumbed to sleep again.
That was it. The words he’d waited centuries to hear, the sentiment he’d never imagined could be returned. If his heart could beat, it would be pounding. He felt himself smile, the stretch of lips pulling at new skin, threatening pain without being able to deliver.
The room was charged, full of potential, of light and happiness and a life together. It really was home. It really was worth it.
There was a door by the closet, one that hadn’t been there at the beginning of the night. It looked kind of like the door to his childhood home in England, a house that had been torn down sometime in the early 1700’s, all warped wood and tarnished metals. It wasn’t nearly as inviting as the bed, so Bishop ignored it.
He chose instead to turn his attention back to Aidan, who had curled up against him in the night, trusting and warm. “I love you, too,” he whispered as the door disappeared and Henry rattled the bars of his mind. “And I’ll never stop.”
Fandom: Being Human US
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Aidan/Henry, one-sided Bishop/Aidan
Summary: In the end, the pain was worth the prize. After hundreds of years of loneliness, Aidan was his. The flesh mattered little if the mind could stay strong.
Notes: This idea popped into my head last week and refused to leave me alone. So I wrote it.
Disclaimer: Not my show, not my characters. Deal with it.
It had taken lifetimes, but he had finally done it. Finally earned it. Found that elusive thing that he’d sought for years.
There was a hand resting lightly on his hip, fingers tinged crimson with old blood. A head of dark hair was resting on his chest, nose taking in the scent of him with each deep, even breath. The bites and bruises on his body were already healing, blood and semen cooling and staining the sheets around them.
A dream come true, right on the tail of a nightmarish life.
He could still feel the pain of his death, raw and burning around his throat, skin ripped wide as his life spilled across the floor. It had been a mild nuisance when compared to a lifetime of need, years of searching for redemption and trust and love, alone in the wilderness surrounded by other people. The lonely nights beat every kind of pain, even the slow, steady tear of skin from muscle.
The last bit had been easy to bear, sliding back in his mind, letting the baser instincts take over, giving the body to Suren’s knife while his mind remained free and unharmed.
The loneliness hurt more than any physical pain he’d ever felt, and that was why it was worth it. The means endurable for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Aidan.
Aidan was worth it. The loss, the pain, the torture. Death. Aidan made it ok, Aidan invited him in, took care of him, took him to bed. They were both lonely, both searching, both desperate.
It had been rough, with Suren back in the picture. He could still see the stake in Aidan’s hands if he closed his eyes long enough, could still hear his own voice pleading for forgiveness and understanding. A son’s plea to a father, the inevitable escape.
They kissed and made up. Things were better than he’d imagined they could be, better than he had hoped. He was welcomed, finally home, accepted.
He leaned down and laid a soft kiss on the top of Aidan’s head, stirring the other vampire. Aidan looked up at him and smiled, eyelids drooping as he fought sleep. “Love you,” he whispered before his head dropped back to its place, eyes closing as he succumbed to sleep again.
That was it. The words he’d waited centuries to hear, the sentiment he’d never imagined could be returned. If his heart could beat, it would be pounding. He felt himself smile, the stretch of lips pulling at new skin, threatening pain without being able to deliver.
The room was charged, full of potential, of light and happiness and a life together. It really was home. It really was worth it.
There was a door by the closet, one that hadn’t been there at the beginning of the night. It looked kind of like the door to his childhood home in England, a house that had been torn down sometime in the early 1700’s, all warped wood and tarnished metals. It wasn’t nearly as inviting as the bed, so Bishop ignored it.
He chose instead to turn his attention back to Aidan, who had curled up against him in the night, trusting and warm. “I love you, too,” he whispered as the door disappeared and Henry rattled the bars of his mind. “And I’ll never stop.”