Larkenia's Flaws -- Installment 21 -- "Bring Me to Life"
Title: "Bring Me to Life"
Series: Larkenia's Flaws
Characters: Annah, Podair, Sessary, Ysilde
Prompt: 97. Writer's Choice- Blood ((from 100originalfics/100_original)); Kitchen ((from fic_15))
Rating: PG-13 (warnings: blood ingestion)
Word Count: 590
Previous Installments: Summaries and Timeline: here; Archives: here.
Notes: So I wrote this two night's ago, and got all excited to post it-- when I realized I hadn't posted installment 20 yet. ^^;;
So, finally, I made it to this one. Woot! It's short, though, so no preview. Sorry guys!
-------
“Fuck! Be gentle,” Ysilde snapped. The tremor reverberating up his spine, drew the priest's attention away from the couple playing cards on the pale couch.
A cackled filtered from between blood-tinted lips, joining the smoke in the room to fill him with poison. “You like the sting, admit it,” Sessary hissed, fingers wet with blood as she attempted to bandage the cuts on the Necromancer's neck.
Her hair was slicked back, despite tips of blood joining some wisps near her pale eyes, dipped in his flesh, in his life, which she'd lapped at until Podair'd kicked her away.
Her fingers were burning along his skin, body heat and bitterness piercing the veil of emptiness that the bleeding had gifted the priest with - his sight was dimmed, touch numbed, taste vapid. When her eyes met his, reflecting the pale light of the kitchen (he'd refused the bathroom, preferring the open kitchen where Ysilde could keep an eye on Annah), his stomach jolted with the tremors in his spine.
Maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed the danger, the pain. A little. She lived off of others blood-- she felt the clenches of darkness when it was gone. It wasn't the same as the grays of the necromancer, but it was the closest Ysilde'd come to understanding. The closest the hollow man had gotten to knowing someone who could say that they saw what he knew, dreamed what he felt---
Rolling his shoulders, Ysilde flared raw lips, puffing the smoke from his roll into her pale face. “Fuck me.”
Lips cracked as she sharply inhaled. “Smoke kills, you know.” Leaning in, she pressed her open jaws to his neck for a final lick, before tying off the extra bandages a quarter inch too tight. A crooked smile was shared at the throb it sent through him, and the inadvertent exhale he'd given, eyes darting guiltily closed.
“What do you want?” he mumbled, not caring if she could hear, not anymore. Celya hadn't called out in about ten minutes, according to Podair.
And yet there his lover was, winning at cards, and the redhead could damn well be dead--
Warm curves slashed inwards, tongue trailing Ysilde's numb face. Dark eyes watched her, all of her shades of gray, slip along his face and crunch down on his ear. “Revenge,” she murmured, drawing back.
Pale eyes lanced his own, fingers flicking out to brush away a smudge of blood from his forehead. Another nail ran along her finger, arching it, mingling the necromancer's blood with her own, gasping in pleasure. “I want revenge, and a little treat,” she murmured.
Leaning in Sessary arched the blood-tipped finger towards the man's spread lips, a hair's breath below Ysilde's lunging mouth.
Eyes flickered towards Podair, who's warm fingers were triumphantly waving cards in the air, Annah's arms climbing his to catch them-- and then Ysilde slammed shut his eyes.
Strong legs held him, her other arm stroking the back of his skull as he leaned in, stomach knotting as he flicked out his sensitive tongue. Slowly he circled her skin, pressing along the rough nail, stabbing himself as he licked below it, slick cheeks enclosing her digit in warm, hungry flesh. The blood held a bitter taste, defying the lead of his stomach by allowing just a small shimmer of pastels back into Ysilde's ashen world.
And then she was gone, beckoning from the hallway for Ysilde's disgruntled and off-kilter face. Without thinking he slid off the counter, biting off the tip of his roll along-side his guilt, and followed the beautiful monster towards the pulsating bedroom door.
Series: Larkenia's Flaws
Characters: Annah, Podair, Sessary, Ysilde
Prompt: 97. Writer's Choice- Blood ((from 100originalfics/100_original)); Kitchen ((from fic_15))
Rating: PG-13 (warnings: blood ingestion)
Word Count: 590
Previous Installments: Summaries and Timeline: here; Archives: here.
Notes: So I wrote this two night's ago, and got all excited to post it-- when I realized I hadn't posted installment 20 yet. ^^;;
So, finally, I made it to this one. Woot! It's short, though, so no preview. Sorry guys!
-------
“Fuck! Be gentle,” Ysilde snapped. The tremor reverberating up his spine, drew the priest's attention away from the couple playing cards on the pale couch.
A cackled filtered from between blood-tinted lips, joining the smoke in the room to fill him with poison. “You like the sting, admit it,” Sessary hissed, fingers wet with blood as she attempted to bandage the cuts on the Necromancer's neck.
Her hair was slicked back, despite tips of blood joining some wisps near her pale eyes, dipped in his flesh, in his life, which she'd lapped at until Podair'd kicked her away.
Her fingers were burning along his skin, body heat and bitterness piercing the veil of emptiness that the bleeding had gifted the priest with - his sight was dimmed, touch numbed, taste vapid. When her eyes met his, reflecting the pale light of the kitchen (he'd refused the bathroom, preferring the open kitchen where Ysilde could keep an eye on Annah), his stomach jolted with the tremors in his spine.
Maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed the danger, the pain. A little. She lived off of others blood-- she felt the clenches of darkness when it was gone. It wasn't the same as the grays of the necromancer, but it was the closest Ysilde'd come to understanding. The closest the hollow man had gotten to knowing someone who could say that they saw what he knew, dreamed what he felt---
Rolling his shoulders, Ysilde flared raw lips, puffing the smoke from his roll into her pale face. “Fuck me.”
Lips cracked as she sharply inhaled. “Smoke kills, you know.” Leaning in, she pressed her open jaws to his neck for a final lick, before tying off the extra bandages a quarter inch too tight. A crooked smile was shared at the throb it sent through him, and the inadvertent exhale he'd given, eyes darting guiltily closed.
“What do you want?” he mumbled, not caring if she could hear, not anymore. Celya hadn't called out in about ten minutes, according to Podair.
And yet there his lover was, winning at cards, and the redhead could damn well be dead--
Warm curves slashed inwards, tongue trailing Ysilde's numb face. Dark eyes watched her, all of her shades of gray, slip along his face and crunch down on his ear. “Revenge,” she murmured, drawing back.
Pale eyes lanced his own, fingers flicking out to brush away a smudge of blood from his forehead. Another nail ran along her finger, arching it, mingling the necromancer's blood with her own, gasping in pleasure. “I want revenge, and a little treat,” she murmured.
Leaning in Sessary arched the blood-tipped finger towards the man's spread lips, a hair's breath below Ysilde's lunging mouth.
Eyes flickered towards Podair, who's warm fingers were triumphantly waving cards in the air, Annah's arms climbing his to catch them-- and then Ysilde slammed shut his eyes.
Strong legs held him, her other arm stroking the back of his skull as he leaned in, stomach knotting as he flicked out his sensitive tongue. Slowly he circled her skin, pressing along the rough nail, stabbing himself as he licked below it, slick cheeks enclosing her digit in warm, hungry flesh. The blood held a bitter taste, defying the lead of his stomach by allowing just a small shimmer of pastels back into Ysilde's ashen world.
And then she was gone, beckoning from the hallway for Ysilde's disgruntled and off-kilter face. Without thinking he slid off the counter, biting off the tip of his roll along-side his guilt, and followed the beautiful monster towards the pulsating bedroom door.