Mornings, Noons and Nights pt. 2
Well I finally finished it...hopefully its good. I feel like it is but isnt at the same time and yet im just proud of myself for finishing something...*sighs*....anyways...hope those that read the first part of this like this part...Its nice to actually have something complete...not that my image writing isnt fun...I gues I just like it when I sit before a finished product that I thought would never BE finished. anyways onto the story...
Foxriverinmate/Pamalax- hope you guys like this ok...and sorry it took me sooo long...<3
Noon, each and every day, brings with it dreams in many various shapes and forms...some passionate and full of life in death, some slightly chilling and hurtful, and some fearful, consumed by images of a past repeating. Dreams. They help us by distraction, they place our worry for others on a scale incapable of finding balance as it teeters endlessly, and they induce the fear that breeds in the closet that is our mind. Three very different dreams this day. Is this what they always dream? No...In every darkness is light therefore with a nightmare there can be some kind of peace and with every erotic dream can exist a hearts destruction. Good can be bad and bad good. Correct? Three dreams. All connected. All wanting the silence that once reigned...to see their dreams either fulfilled or prevented. It’s a ride...a journey...through flashes of desire, danger, and destruction.
A youthful form lies sleeping, nestled in a pair of loving arms. His own limbs are tangled around the lover who shares the bed with him. In sleep, his sire’s arms provide comfort, some sense of safety and though he misses his grandsire when awake, the strength of his sire keeps him going until the other part of their family returns home. A few drops of dried blood decorate his perfect neck, his sire apparently having been hungry not just for blood but playful torture the night before. Clothes lie scattered about which is fine because no one cares of their existence half the time anyway. Their is silence other than the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional shifting of the sheets when one of the two move about in the bed. The sun shines outside and it’s a beautiful day, the kind most people wish for on rainy days when they stare out their windows wearing a frown. In this room however, you wouldn’t know the sun even existed. Night is their day and day their night. The only light they take joy in and bathe their bodies and souls with is the one that reaches out from each others eyes, which now are closed in sleep, only adding to their created darkened room.
Sleep came quick with the suns rise and now his dreams have taken him hostage and if he had conscious knowledge you would find no such complaints from his lips. His world behind eyes shut is one of Desire. Desire for his sire and grandsire, desire for peace and stability, and desire for a wanted future. In his dreams Alex is home and their is happiness to be shared again.
His dreams as always are full of flashing images. He is bare atop their bed and spread out like a buffet for sire and grandsire both to feast upon until satisfied and being how much he loves what they do to him, again he never would complain. He can’t help but be submissive to their charms and their loving yet demanding requests. Two pairs of insistent lips travel the planes of his eager body and leave trails of pleasure behind for nerves and senses to feed on. He wants to be used…to be bitten, to be fucked, to be loved and to be filled by a passion so insatiably overwhelming. He lays there, beneath sire and grandsire, and just gives in to blinding desire as his body is used so perfectly to please the two people in his world he cant fathom being without. The night leaves the room darkened but he can still see two pairs of eyes, hungry for his body, as they tease him endlessly. His overactive mind tries to take in everything to add to the image they must be making. The cool breeze filtering in through closed black curtains, the way his naked body must look atop the silk sheets, the depth of the feelings and colors he sees in his lovers eyes, the feel of a pair of incisors piercing his flesh oh so damn good, the way hands tickle his skin as they brush it so delicately yet firmly, the sounds of his own moans resonating in his head and ears, the feel of his blood flowing from his willing neck to his sires lips, the way he can practically hear their blood coursing in their veins as he licks his lips and bites into them yearning for the taste of blood to quench his lustful thirst, the sweat that makes the sheets cling to his body, the heat pooling in his stomach from the attention received, the hot air that steals breath from his struggling lungs, the room around them a mess that he will have to clean up at a later moment in time, the love that passes between the three, the magic and sparks that flash behind his eyes when he gasps prettily, the softness of the pillows compared to the hardness he feels, the touch of their skin against his own, the difference in both their touches though both wonderful, the way they look as they play in the night, every curve of the two bodies next to him, the way their features brand him with lust, the perfection it all creates…his mind takes it all in and the pleasure builds higher and higher and he cant wait for the fall back down.
He can feel a drop of blood sliding down the broken skin of his neck as two tongues tease his hard pink nipples. The way they flick and the way it feels under the suction of parted lips makes him groan and beg them for release. They always know how to reduce him to single words…please, sire, more, god, and yes…not to mention the sounds that only his fanged family can tear from his throat. He feels their decent downwards and suddenly the room is hazy and spinning beneath him, he can’t remember when he started sweating this much and his cock is so hard his body cant manage to stay still or maintain control of itself. Finally, he feels a tongue stroking his leaking cock and another rimming his hole playfully yet hungrily. He can’t put into words how good it feels as he groans beneath the pleasure being given to him. He’s losing it...oh god…their movements are copying each other and Michael knows there is some serious eye fucking between them and would watch if he wasn’t so high on the sensations so expertly engulfing the systems of his body. He feels his cock being sucked so deliciously good as a tongue pushes into him moving in rhythm with the mouth that’s working him toward that cliff. He can’t silence his groans as his sire and grandsire both fuck him into the mattress with just their mouths. The sounds they earn from him make him feel like a common whore and yet he doesn’t care, he just thrusts into the pleasure they are releasing upon him.
Suddenly there are hands turning him onto his side and heat surrounding him from both sides. He groans at the friction from the two men as they both thrust their need against his open and willing body. His eyes and body all but begging, they take him…hard and passionate. Its exquisite in nature…his sires cock pushing into his needy hole, fucking him sooo good and his grandsire watching his flushed face and sultry reactions adoringly as his hand rests over Lincolns on his hip while his cock thrusts against Michaels needily. His body is overloaded with sensation and he can’t seem to stop moaning and thrusting back and forth for more. He can feel Lincoln’s hard cock thrusting slowly but firmly while hitting his sweet spot each and every fucking time, driving Michael absolutely mad with desire. He can feel Alex’s hardness brushing so damn perfectly against his own only adding to the spiral out of control that Michael is currently on. He can feel a tongue plunging hungrily into his moaning mouth and teeth sinking into his shoulder drawing shudders and drops of blood from his body. He can feel all of their moans circling around them and vibrating over heated skin. He can feel the sweat from their forms mixing as they move together maddeningly slow yet oh so lustfully good. He feels every little thing, his senses refusing to turn away any sensation that may cross their path. There are no words for how the moment forces Michael’s heart to swell with love and lust and suddenly there are words. They’re driving him over that edge and it’s beautiful and all consuming and suddenly words just flow out to the two men that are his eternal world. ‘Oh god, yes, more, so good, love you both…so much, gonna com’…the words even if cut off by groans of pleasure are enough and speak all that need to be spoken for both sire and grandsire. They don’t need poetry, song, or a canvas….They are the sonnet, the verse, and the masterpiece as pleasure and love take them over as always…together. The look on his grandsires face before him as he falls into sated sleep is one of happiness and it couldn’t make Michael happier himself. Relieved to be safe and content in the arms of those that love him and knowing nothing can touch them again he too falls into a deep sleep.
While his heart is disappointed when reality returns and his dream doesn’t match it, the images that assault Michael in sleep are both beautiful and peaceful. All his desires dance behind his closed eyelids. The desire to share his bed with his entire family again, the desire to live the rest of eternity in peace, and the desire to see his grandsire no longer hurting anymore and have him home again. It hurts just a little bit more each time he wakes and nothing has changed, however having had reassurance from his loving sire that all would be and will be alright, his dreams can now be joyful and fearless.
Isn’t it just amazing how art can spawn from just about anything? It’s not just a visual if you take that extra look, go that extra step and look just a little closer. A subject’s eyes don’t have to be open, and words don’t need to be present for emotions to be clear for an audience and while everyone interprets art differently the subjects of study offer their story if you look on with an open mind. Two bodies are fused together obviously clinging to what they do have in this moment. They don’t have to be awake for you to see the love that pulls them together and at the same time the loss that pulls them together. It’s beautiful and slightly depressing all at once and who would know whether to smile or frown. The passion from the night is visible due to the scattered garments around the room, the smell of sweat and sex that deliciously floats through the rooms’ air, the swollen lips of the angelic yet sinister childe encased in his lovers’ arms. It’s beautiful until you get to their facial expressions. It’s like a yin yang. One is decorated with a smile, obviously choosing in sleep to have a positive outlook whether it is from reassurance or just a natural feeling that all will be as it should in time. It’s clear from the way his body is moving slightly that he’s dreaming of the desire and love he shares with both the man next to him and the one who is lost from them, the one that we assume would complete the portrait. His leg is thrown over the older man and his red lips are parted as his chest rises and falls very quickly. It’s both sweet and sour to watch. The other side of the symbol is the opposite. His exquisite features are filled with worry and his arms and body cling to his lover. You can tell the picture behind his eyes is an unhappy one and it’s enough to cause ones lungs and heart to ache for the older man. It’s like light and dark….The younger man is all light though when he wakes and the dream is over a spot of dark creeps in while his lover is all dark with worry and fear though when he wakes his strength creates a light for him to cling to. The piece though missing an element is both perfectly painted and sadly portrayed. The art brands the symbol to the mind, plays with ones own emotions and leaves behind a balanced confusion.
Sleep came quick with the suns rise and now his dreams have taken him hostage and if he had conscious knowledge you would find a couple complaints from his lips. His world behind eyes shut is one of Danger and uncertainty. The Danger his sire is facing in which he is powerless to help him, The danger of leaving Michael alone to even attempt to go after their beloved Alex, and the danger that continues to consume their eternal lives as his sires battle for peace, with them and with himself, rages on.
Lincoln’s dreams also arrive in flashes, sometimes in black and white, sometimes in color…but all unwanted and all unsettling. He stands frozen only able to watch the sight that is playing out before his eyes. He feels useless, unable to stop it or help as he often does in reality. His sire, his beautiful sire is tied down, bound by that bitch and her torturing ways. His head hangs due to his lack of consciousness and drops of drying blood are splattered all over his face and chest. He has refused her and she is making him pay. A threat is in the air, refusal angering the evil his beloved Alex has tried so desperately to outrun for so long. He feels an ache as if he and Michael will be her new source of destroying the man he loves. He feels the guilt set in as well as the love that Alex would do anything for their created family. Lincoln wants to reach out and kill her, for tearing them apart, for tearing Alex away from another family, for everything she has done and will do because he’s frozen to the spot on which he stands. He feels a tear run down his features for his sire and curses the bitch from which their line spawned. He’s not hers. He’s ours. Lincoln knows that he unlives and yet his heart is aching and shattering for his sire and for their family. He can’t imagine Michael, his childe growing into his own without his grandsires presence. He can’t imagine an eternity without Alex to hold him and make his dead heart feel. It all hurts and aches and Lincoln cries out in physical and emotional pain.
Suddenly Alex is gone and Michael is there. The sight is comforting after the image from just seconds ago. He watches his Childe and like Michael so often does tries to take in every detail…knowing however that he won’t paint things as perfect and accurate as his sweet childe would. Michael is laying on his stomach his arms meeting under the pillow that his head is resting peacefully upon. He doesn’t look happy or saddened…he seems momentarily content. The sheet has left the skin of his back uncovered and Linc finds it not only arousing and seductive but adorable and sensual. The room is quiet except for the sound of Michaels very soft even breath. Lincoln decides he just can’t paint the picture with justice and frowns a little to himself at the discovery. Its then that he sees himself. His face is not a happy one and he watches himself in wonder. He is standing by the frame of the large window, his body propped against it as he looks at the sleeping form in the bed. His eyes are sending a wave of tears down his face. The moon shines in and bathes Michael’s body as well as producing the shadow of Lincolns form on the floors surface. Its then Lincoln realizes what he’s witnessing. ‘I’m leaving’ Realizing this he understands the need to help his sire, to be out there with him in case he gets hurt but that his heart is heavy with hesitation and worry for his childe as well. He can’t imagine leaving Michael alone and would never get over the guilt if something happened to him and he wasn’t there to protect him. He watches himself gaze down at his lover with uncertainty and feels another stab of pain.
His dreams serve to only heighten his worry. While strong for his childe, his dreams wear down his collected exterior by squeezing his unbeating heart…when he wakes, it almost hurts…what should be an impossible trick. Only his family can make him feel…when good...it’s amazing but when bad it’s like a fizzy poison killing his dead soul all over again. His worry and fear for their lives is enough to break him and if he didn’t have his own sleeping childe next to him, Alex’s beautiful grandchilde…he knows he’d give in and let the glass crack under aching pressure. It hurts just a little bit more each time he wakes and nothing has changed, however knowing he’s making Michael feel safe and that Alex is strong he takes a deep breath, praying once again that all will be ok though his dreams still dangle unwanted possible realities before him.
Sleep came quick with the suns rise and now his dreams have taken him hostage and if he had conscious knowledge you would find many complaints from his lips. The worries of his childe are his dark dreams….his haunting nightmares. His world behind eyes shut is one of Destruction. The Destruction of his family both past and present, the destruction of his faith in peace with those he loves for eternity and the destruction of himself.
Like the rest of his perfectly created family, Alex dreams in flashes as well, perhaps a trait that he passed on to both childe and grandchilde in the first place. Gazing at him one would wonder if his dreams are as frightening as the sight he makes…gazing closer provides confirmation that they are. The breakdown of his typically charming and seductive appearance is unfortunate and only increases as one takes in the atmosphere he inhabits as he sleeps. Heart breaking. She has him within her grasp and while dreams bring pain, the night can only be worse for then it’s lived in reality instead of a dreaded dream world. He is thin and pale, too pale, and it’s painfully obvious the poor beautiful man hasn’t fed. One could go so far as to assume this is so because she won’t allow him to. He denies her and therefore his body suffers and yearns for that taste so sweet and thick as it hits his tongue and throat, but with her that taste is dulled and toxic to ones lips. He’s weak and sickly, a depressing sight to have to endure. His clothes are dirty and worn from travel and torture. The sad truth is that one could go on and on with detail if only eyes could be torn from studying his face for more than a moment at a time. His hair is a mess, pieces falling here and there and everywhere. His cold skin is smudged with dirt and painted with bruises. Eyes are squeezed tightly shut, head moving from side to side as if trying to shake it all away. His lip is split open slightly and together they form a frown. The skin of his features is also colorless, tears leak periodically from shaky eyelids and it hurts to imagine the pain and turmoil he experiences in sleep.
As if their eternal lives aren’t physically consumed with enough dark to begin with, the pitch black poison of this different and hated darkness, which threatens his dreams, is both chilling and dangerously cold. They taunt him. Flashes of crimson red blood pooling on the floor or flowing from an open wound, A tear rolling down the soft pale skin of a beautiful cheek, Screams loud and piercing, Cries and sobs against never ending blackness, a dead heart taking on the very characteristics of death, the smack of slaps and blows to a beaten down body, a pair of eyes widened in fear. These photographs flash like a slideshow amidst the more horrific and detailed images that play out. They almost seem as if they serve the purpose of being tormenting transitions from one nightmare to the next.
His vision is black and white and blurred. Static. Tragic. Fear. Linger. Danger. Blood. Heart. Pounding. Pulse. Racing. Ears. Humming. His body feels too alive. He walks forward, there but yet not there. He has no control and only sees what’s there for him to see. It plays like an old movie and he’s caught in the middle of its scene. There is a sense of familiarity in the air and yet he feels he has never been here before. There is a bight light and it takes him a moment to recover. When he does however he drops to his knees in agony and pain. Not back here!!! PLEASE!!! GOD NO!!! THEY WERE INNOCENT!!! They were innocent. He crawls over to the small body on the floor and sobs as he takes him in his arms. So young, so beautiful, so unfair. He was full of life and that has been greedily taken from him, taken from his father who wanted so badly to watch him grow into a young man. Chubby little cheeks, Hair so much like his own, beautiful eyes closed forever, heart unbeating, skin pale with death. Alex takes his little fingers in his own hand comparing their size and breaks down over the body of his son. WHY!!!!! THIS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM!!!! GOD NO!!! It’s….not….fair. He lays his son gently down and strokes his cheek lovingly and adoringly before kissing his forehead and moving over to the other body on the floor. Pulling her close he breaks down over her body his mind filling with all the memories they shared as his tears fall on her expressionless face. So beautiful. She was my life. They were my life. What do I do now? How do…I let…them…go…? Another bright flash and he’s standing at the door watching their bodies lie motionless on the floor, their blood staining the carpet. His hands feel weird. Looking down his fingers and skin are coated in blood. His family’s blood. He cries out and falls to the floor again. NOOO!!!!! Suddenly she is there in the middle of the room when he looks up to see the curtains swaying with the cold wind the icy bitch has brought with her. He yearns to cover his wife and son from her chill but can only stare at her in anger and with eternal hate. He stands his rage boiling over its peak and making him stronger. He wants to choke the eternal life from her throat and lungs and moves toward her like a lion stalking its prey. ‘You did this Alex!’ ‘NOOOOO!!! THEY WERE MY FAMILY AND YOU SLAUGHTERED THEM FOR YOUR OWN GREED!!!’ ‘Then why is their blood on your hands Alex’ Alex looks down at his stained hands again and feels his tears build up in his eyes and pour over the dam of his eyelids. ‘NOO!!! I DIDN’T!!! I LOVED THEM!!! YOU DID THIS!!!’ His face is filled with pain, hurt and loss, his lip quivering from his sobs, air getting caught in his throat as he tries so hard to breathe. His chest aches and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take the hurt that courses through every vessel in his body. ‘You chose this Alex…they could have been spared. You let this happen…it’s your fault their dead!’ Alex can hear the last part of her sentence echoing in his brain as everything goes dark and the pain washes him over, his screams filling the empty air.
His knees ache as he rests upon them body fallen over and hands tied expertly behind him. He’s weak and powerless. She has come to him many times begging him to reconsider, saying she will kill all he holds dear to his dead betraying heart, that she will spare those he loves if only he were to spend his afterlife at her side, that all will be fine if only he’d submit to her and every time he has denied her, spat at her, said she’d never get her hands on the family he’s managed to create. He had fought so hard to not let his worry for Lincoln and Michael show in his eyes, tried so much to bury them so she would be unable to sense them through their sire and grandsire. He failed. The bitch is just that strong and now he’s bound and crying for his family who is out there all alone, who could be running for their lives from Caroline’s bastard childe, who need him so badly to return home to them. On top of the pain this forces him to relive rests a layer of guilt, no matter how badly he wanted to eliminate the threat to their family, it leaves him hurt, distraught, and regretful that he had to leave them alone in his attempt to accomplish what now feels hopeless and impossible. ‘Should we have run and just have kept running forever?’ ‘What if my childe makes the mistake I did when I don’t return and leaves our beloved Michael alone and needing?’ ‘Will I ever see them again?’ “Will I ever be free?’ He drowns in questions as he sobs and aching to be just that…free, of the pain and of her.
No sound. Moving. Slow. Anticipation. A slight beat. Like a drum. Follow. Wonder. Scared. Emptiness. Resonating. Getting Louder. Beat Beat. Where. What. Black. White. Shifting. Gaining Color. Steady. Rhythm. Louder. Echo. Bounce. Throb. Beat Beat. Flash. Home. NO!!!!!! Suddenly everything feels real, painfully real. The beat is gone. Another family is gone. She found them. Killed them. He sinks to the bed throwing himself across his childe and grandchilde's bodies blaming her and cursing eternity. ‘My beloved Lincoln…Oh Michael I’m so sorry’ their heavenly bodies that offered him love and safety are now tainted by her hand and covered in blood atop their bed. Their faces are still and without emotion. He can feel his heart breaking at the loss of the two souls he loves so much. He wants to be with them. Lay there and starve himself until he joins them. He knows that eternity now has zero appeal with them gone as he holds tight to the cold forms that rest beneath him. His tears are without end. His pain enough to kill the undead and yet he’s still alive and forced to live without them. He can’t control the rolling thunder and he calls out for all the world to hear. ‘WHY THEM!!!!’ His sobs take him over. ‘Why me?’ he says softly as he clings to the bodies of two more souls lost to him. His family. His last chance at peace and happiness. His faith in love. His life. Everything. Is. Destroyed….
While his dreams are devastating and leave him scared beyond comprehension, they somehow in the end find a way to motivate him. It can’t happen again. It won’t happen again. Destruction somehow spawns desire. A desire to keep the destruction from happening. When he wakes he knows it will hurt in every way possible and yet it will give him the strength to make sure they don’t happen. He will hate that his family isn’t there and that he can’t see their beautiful faces and curl inside their arms to know its ok and yet he will know that that is the exact reason he’s fighting. So that they can all be together again in safety. As difficult as his dreams make it sometimes, they serve a purpose and while he wishes he didn’t have them if that purpose is strong enough to keep their family alive and safe when this all ends…then he knows he can accept what nightmares come his way.
Noon. Despite the lack of sound due to sleep their minds and emotions are anything but silenced. Three very different dreams, all three both good and bad in some way, some wanted and some unwanted. When they wake they long for a life where sleep is quiet and all is right in their world. Peace. Within. Eternity.