Prompting Part XXIV
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
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Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
Gorgeous.
That is the one word he could say as he stared at the man before him: shackled, thick chains around his ankles and wrists, and blindfolded. Tanned skin, silver hair, and standing so still, so to attention, trying to bite back the fear within at was going to happen. Simply fucking gorgeous. It was almost a pity he was going to drain him. Still punishment had to be given. At least he had seen this one, at least he was going to have the pleasure because this promised to be a lovely feast - why no one had picked him up to serve before was beyond Mycroft.
Humans did not attack them, humans did not look at them, humans did not speak to them unless spoken to, humans were not equals and should not expect to be. Naughty, naughty. There was always one of them, one of them that felt the need annoying need to rebel - a pity as well. This one had had a good life after all, Detective Inspector, a family … if only he hadn’t reacted so badly when his daughter was called.
Humans should be grateful.
His fangs slid out, wings flaring out, so wide and abruptly that the man stepped back. The chains caught and he staggered to get his balance. Mycroft smiled widely, moving forward, hand catching the man’s wrist, gripping in to draw blood. He breathed: tasting sweet tangy, and with that he stepped inwards.
A noticeable shiver coursed through the man’s body, but he kept headstrong, trying to reign in the panic. Good. So very good. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the man’s right ear. The man hitched a breath.
“Do you regret it?” whispered Mycroft, twisting the man’s shoulder behind him, enjoying the gasp that escaped from those lovely lips.
He knows he doesn’t.
“No, you fucker.”
So aggressive, so fierce - most would be begging, he noted, most would be pleading. Then again apparently this one had already done all that, all week. Not for himself. For his family - Mycroft had to wonder if the rest of them would smell this tasty: mother, daughter and son. Maybe afterwards …
“I didn’t think so,”
He pressed a kiss just below the ear, loosening his grip. The man’s heart skipped a beat. No doubt wondering what would happen. Most people in this situation would already be bleeding out, gasping for their last breath, light leaking from their eyes, while his kind crouched over them, gorging, wings flared, ripping and tearing.
Mycroft had always found that so uncivilised.
He trailed the kisses down, the man’s neck, pausing at the pulsing vein.
“Name. Crime. Punishment.”
The man hitched a breath before speaking quickly and clearly.
“Gregory Lestrade of Dorset. Wrongfully murdering a vampire. To be drained.”
Even now there was grim satisfaction in the second statement. The rest though mingled with pride. Arrogance, Mycroft could say but that wasn’t really the right way to put it at all. Besides he knew arrogance in the form of his little brother. No this was a strong man.
He grinned and sunk his teeth in.
There are two distinct ways that this could go. He could flood the human with sexual arousal, pain and pleasure mingling as one. It was the preferred way: it did build trust better between his kind and humans. It made them feel special, wanted. The other way was to do nothing: let the human respond as they will: most fought as it wasn’t pleasant having fangs in you and feeling your blood being sucked away, nice and slow. Some went limp, whimpering in fear.
He took option two.
Gregory struggled naturally, and Mycroft wrapped both hands around him, holding him with a superior strength. He tried to buck away, but Mycroft kept his teeth firmly in, drinking deeply, enjoying the sweet tang and how with each passing second Gregory slackened into his hold. How exquisite. How lovely. What a shame he had never been put to serve, put on the market.
He moved away, Gregory truly shaking now. Out of sympathy he guided the man to the ground, removing the blindfold, large gossamer feathered wings surrounding them as if to shield, watching Gregory’s chest raise from exertion, each breath a pant. His eyes trailed over noting how the wound was still bleeding slightly, an old scar, and - ah, interesting as he looked at the hardening cock.
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Once again Mycroft was presented with a number of different possibilities. They mapped out before him. One he could make a comment about ‘pain and pleasure’. Two he could continue draining. Three he could drain and take Gregory at the same time - more appealing. A few other scenarios flew past in his mind before he latched onto one.
Unorthodox. Yes. Terribly so. But still it might be nice to have an attractive blood bag to come home to especially someone who wouldn’t greatly need his full time attention. Mycroft could even get him a job to keep the human occupied. And if he became too much trouble he could just drain.
He shifted forward, locking onto those brown eyes and Gregory tried to slide backwards. He gave a stern look, tutted and gestured for Gregory to come forward. A pause before Gregory compiled, eyes not dropping in the slightest.
“Do you want to live, Gregory?”
A spark of hope spurred in those eyes. “What do you mean?”
Each word was slightly slurred and breathless.
“I mean what I say: do you want to live?”
“And I mean what I say: what do you mean by -”
He let out a strangle cry as Mycroft reached out, nails digging into the shoulder flesh. He pressed down on top of Lestrade, resting on top of him, restricting movement. If Gregory hadn’t been afraid before he now was terrified, twisting and crying out.
“Hush,” he said.
Gregory quietened.
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.” The way he said it sounded like a betrayal because he wanted to be strong and firm, but behind that Mycroft saw the need of a father to see his family again, to protect them.
“We will wash this nasty business aside if you submit to me,” he said, “Live with me, feed me, obey me in every demand - clear?”
He could see Gregory’s mind racing, could hear it as his heart raced.
“If I will … Ellie …”
Ah, the bargaining and naturally for his daughter. Ensuring she was safe. Mycroft smiled.
“Three years, fair is fair,” he chided. Which was fair. Most individuals called to serve had either up to ten years or life. Still Gregory still looked pained.
“Oh don’t look at me like that. I’ll make sure she is somewhere safe - same for your boy.”
Gregory let out a strong sigh of relief and nodded. Mycroft kissed his forehead, enjoying how the man’s entire body relaxed underneath him, giving in.
“Will I ever …”
“If you behave yourself I don’t see why not.” Mycroft didn't consider himself a cruel man after all.
Gregory let out a dry sob.
Mycroft got out his phone asking for Anthea to organise the correct paperwork and to get someone in to fix his home up for his pet.
And then he gave a final bite before they went home.
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We'll see how well this turns out considering I have no plot currently. :D
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Tempt, tempt, tempt!
By the way, I love the fact that Mycroft has Lestrade's family to hold over him. There are so many ways to play with him. Like a cat with a mouse.
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Still applies BUT I put the first part up because I felt like it. Yeah. Not sure where its going (and by that there is a vague understanding)
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This was a lovely fill. Vampire Mycroft is very fitting, I think! Thank you!
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Here is a link to the first part: http://ambikai.livejournal.com/2988.html#cutid1
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(Yes I wrote it in English, Mycroft. Don't act so surprised)
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