Ficlet: "Fairytale Monsters", Giles/The Gentlemen, Dark and Gory
Fairytale Monsters written for slashthedrabble challenge of "Fairytale"
Giles/The Gentlemen
Rated: E for “Evil,” “Excessively Dark and Gory,” and “Explicit Character Death”
500 words
Sorry for this…
Giles strained hard against the binding force holding him down, feeling the burn in his arms and legs from the effort, but the four slavering minions only grinned wider and held on tighter, one on each of his limbs.
He wanted to call for help, call for Buffy, but knew it would no good. It was his own fault. He’d sent her out for patrol and sent the others back to their homes for safety. He alone had stayed behind to pick up his transparencies and put away his notes, not aware of the danger in which he placed himself. That was how they’d caught him, wanting his heart, demanding that he be one of their five.
Their faces appeared above him, grey, skull-like, maniacal with their permanent toothy smiles. First there was one, then two, then three of them floating beside the table on which they had him spread. The Gentlemen. For reasons he didn’t understand, Giles stopped his struggles and silent protests.
One of them reached out a hand, the fingers thin, elegant, and impossibly long. A nail caressed his cheek and Giles trembled. The monster cocked its head in a gesture that seemed both intensely curious and coldly dispassionate in equal measure.
It backed off and nodded, signaling the minions to bare him; they did, using their free hands to rip his shirt and expose his chest. Even though he was sweating, the room felt suddenly cold. Giles could hear the blood rushing through his body, past his ears.
Then another of the Gentlemen approached him, giant knife in hand. As it neared him, Giles struggled again, but found himself pinned perhaps more solidly than before. His throat began to close and he saw red. The knife touched him, slicing deep, with a blade of cold steel. But it didn’t feel cold…it was warm and sweet as his skin welcomed it, parting to admit it entrance.
Then, in one quick cut from collar to navel, it lifted. There was a moment of heat and near bliss, before it flared. Burning and white, it seared him and Giles screamed. The scream tore his throat, strangled and silent under the gentleman’s spell. That’s when he knew. There would be no hero come to his rescue, no happy ending.
The knife kissed him again, cutting him from shoulder to shoulder. Giles was barely aware as those long delicate fingers proved stronger than he ever imagined, peeling back the skin and cracking bone.
The world swam between black and white until he was enveloped, no longer remembering the difference between pleasure and pain while his mind howled as loudly as his screams could not.
They were fairytale monsters, but it was no fairytale…only a nightmare.
The hand reached into his chest, caressing his still beating heart, touching him profanely in a way that was deeper and more intimate than he’d ever been touched before, but as Giles slipped from the white into eternal black, he was aware of none of it.
Giles/The Gentlemen
Rated: E for “Evil,” “Excessively Dark and Gory,” and “Explicit Character Death”
500 words
Sorry for this…
Giles strained hard against the binding force holding him down, feeling the burn in his arms and legs from the effort, but the four slavering minions only grinned wider and held on tighter, one on each of his limbs.
He wanted to call for help, call for Buffy, but knew it would no good. It was his own fault. He’d sent her out for patrol and sent the others back to their homes for safety. He alone had stayed behind to pick up his transparencies and put away his notes, not aware of the danger in which he placed himself. That was how they’d caught him, wanting his heart, demanding that he be one of their five.
Their faces appeared above him, grey, skull-like, maniacal with their permanent toothy smiles. First there was one, then two, then three of them floating beside the table on which they had him spread. The Gentlemen. For reasons he didn’t understand, Giles stopped his struggles and silent protests.
One of them reached out a hand, the fingers thin, elegant, and impossibly long. A nail caressed his cheek and Giles trembled. The monster cocked its head in a gesture that seemed both intensely curious and coldly dispassionate in equal measure.
It backed off and nodded, signaling the minions to bare him; they did, using their free hands to rip his shirt and expose his chest. Even though he was sweating, the room felt suddenly cold. Giles could hear the blood rushing through his body, past his ears.
Then another of the Gentlemen approached him, giant knife in hand. As it neared him, Giles struggled again, but found himself pinned perhaps more solidly than before. His throat began to close and he saw red. The knife touched him, slicing deep, with a blade of cold steel. But it didn’t feel cold…it was warm and sweet as his skin welcomed it, parting to admit it entrance.
Then, in one quick cut from collar to navel, it lifted. There was a moment of heat and near bliss, before it flared. Burning and white, it seared him and Giles screamed. The scream tore his throat, strangled and silent under the gentleman’s spell. That’s when he knew. There would be no hero come to his rescue, no happy ending.
The knife kissed him again, cutting him from shoulder to shoulder. Giles was barely aware as those long delicate fingers proved stronger than he ever imagined, peeling back the skin and cracking bone.
The world swam between black and white until he was enveloped, no longer remembering the difference between pleasure and pain while his mind howled as loudly as his screams could not.
They were fairytale monsters, but it was no fairytale…only a nightmare.
The hand reached into his chest, caressing his still beating heart, touching him profanely in a way that was deeper and more intimate than he’d ever been touched before, but as Giles slipped from the white into eternal black, he was aware of none of it.