Ancient Wounds pt 32ii
Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: N/a
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne, Ville/OC (in parts)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6, 7, 8, 9i, 9ii, 10i, 10ii, 10iii,11, 12i, 12ii, 13, 14i, 14ii, 14iii, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20i, 20ii,
21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32i
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He stood at the doorway moments later, tall with flushed warm skin revitalised and rosy with blood. His golden hair was tangled and windswept and smelled richly of the cold river; I caught the scent of pine and soil on his garments also, for he had been hunting in the wilds. The image itself was absurd, the nobleman that was my Master running furious through the black woods at night prowling on poachers and peasants and animals, catching his fine silks and tearing his resilient hardened skin on brambles and the sharp elm branches ‘til it bled. I laughed lightly in my secret mind. He was a refined gentleman by nature, rich and highly educated, wanted for nothing. But he was ancient. How old was he? How many moons had waxed and waned in his life time? How many seasons had turned? Beneath the finery, the jewellery and the decadent words, I suppose he was little more than an animal. Yes, I surmised that much long ago, that his great powerful muscles under those ruffled shirts were those of a Nordic wildman, a hunter and fighter that colonised these lands hundreds upon hundreds of years ago that lived hand to mouth with sword and dagger. Surely he even knew the language of old, that beautiful long lost tongue of our forefathers. Perhaps that in the end he was just that, an animal in a man’s clothing.
When his eyes finally met mine his weathered face warmed.
“Such a pleasant surprise,” He smiled, voice calm and quiet “and to what do I owe such a pleasing sight?”
I merely smiled sweetly up at him, pretending to thumb the beaded cushions with vague interest.
He pulled away his thinly veiled overcoat and flung it across the desk casually, before reaching into the desk and after a brief search producing a small tortoise shell comb from beneath yet more old documents. The room itself was comfortably silent. I shifted on the sheets, moving to the edge of the bed and gazed quietly at his reflection as he began to slick his tangled hair back, smoothing the rebellious spools of gold away from his face as he shrugged off the animal and became the respectable head of house once more.
“Please Master,” I said submissively “will you let me help you?”
He smirked quizzically before beckoning me to join him in front of the mirror, and pressed the small mottled comb into my delicate palm. It was then that I became again aware of the spiced dominating scent of him intermingled with that of the outside world, the heady masculine aroma that clung to his hot skin and in his thick long blonde hair. It was then that the Master became aware of how little I was wearing.
“You should always dress this way, Ville. I have always thought it a terrible shame you cover yourself up as much as you do” he said. I began sweeping back his gleaming hair with the small comb, standing behind him. I stood with my chest pressed lightly against his muscled shoulders, entranced with sight and scent of him and enthralled by the flaxen silk running slowly through my fingertips; he moaned softly when my fingertips ghosted the back of his neck. I caught also the perfume of blood in his veins, which gave yet another curious dimension to being close to him in this act which became more richly erotic than even I had planned.
“Your beauty has always maddened me,” he continued, still gazing at me only through the mirror’s sepia-tinted reflection “I must admit that I do idealise you in my thoughts when I am away from you, but when I see you I am overcome”
And as I reached up that small measure he was taller than I to straighten a remaining stray curl he reached up and caught my wrist, kissing it softly. He turned and looked upon me with intimate eyes in silence, against taking my pale hands and kissing tenderly my slender fingers, sucking seductively the tips and again at my captive wrists. I moaned genuinely, so oddly aroused by it all.
His strong arms encircled my waist, bunching up the looseness of the irony linen about my hips, and began planting small impassioned kissed about my jaw, hand ghosting my collar and caressing the skin there. I murmured his name through moist flushed lips. I felt his satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. “I want to see all of you again” he whispered.
“You can, yes, you know you can” I groaned softly, kissing his ear as I spoke, burying my face in the goldenness of his hair , slipping my arms around his neck. “Master, please…” I felt him open my shirt and then it falling to the floor.
I was dizzy. I felt the heat of his hardness pressing into my thigh, the spiced musk of his hair filling my nostrils and the taste of his skin as I kissed his throat lustily. I was in rapture and was filled suddenly with the horrifyingly delicious urge to have him right where we stood.
“I…I,” I moaned through his kisses, shuddering as he stroked my chest “I want you to make love to me right now”
Yet he said nothing but continued his torturous kissing, his hand moving from my waist to rest on the curve of my buttocks. “ Mm not here, such a beauty as yourself was made to be ravished on a bed befitting, my love” before I could mutter a word in reply I felt him slip a cool digit deep inside me, causing my breath to hitch and me to rock forward on my feet to catch his mouth in a passionate kiss. He pulsed teasingly in and out of me, hitting a part deep within me that felt like fire until I cried out to him that I could not take it and would spend myself if he did not stop.
He gathered me in his arms and pushed me down roughly on the bed, pulling away at his clothes and casting them aside to join me on the glittering sheets. I buried my fingertips in his once again tousled hair as he loomed over me, our lips crashing together roughly and my body as desperate for him as his form mine. I revelled in the friction as his organ pulsed against mine, writhing against him gasping for sweet release. Unable to withstand his games, I straddled him and told him that I would let him have me in a way he’d never experienced, before leaving a crimson mark upon his throat where my kiss had once lay.
Without warning, I let myself be impaled by him. He groaned as I let my tight heat sink gently onto him, taking him slowly. I hissed taking in his size, until I had him almost to the hilt. The feeling was euphoric, that place inside me again becoming aflame and filling me with such sinful pleasure. Beneath me my Master bucked and gripped my hips, fighting the urge to ravage as I began my slow work. Easing gently I began to ride him, now completely overcome with my own desires, forcing his length deep inside me, causing me to cry out and groan uncontrollably. Once again I forced his entire length inside me, and without warning feel him die inside me with a great guttural moan. The force was so shatteringly strong that immediately I followed, spilling myself against his sweat-beaded stomach below.