Kink Bingo (Tangled Histories Verse): Constants
Title: Constants
Verse: Tangled Histories
Author: Viktoria Angelique (
v_angelique)
Pairings: Viggo Mortensen/Elijah Wood
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If you think this is true, you must be smoking some really, really premium shit.
Word Count: 517
kink_bingo prompt: breathplay
Verse notes: The Tangled Histories verse exists in a world where the existence of vampires is known and accepted, and a handful of vampire families make up somewhere between two and ten percent of the world population. In this verse, vampires are not affected by sunlight and there is no great universal conflict between mortals and immortal. Vampires generally only take human blood that is offered willingly, and there are plenty of humans willing to offer. They can only die from not feeding enough and perhaps a few other rare conditions. The most important things to these vampires are age, family, and respect. Various pairings will be explored in the verse, and stories may jump around the chronology, but I'm going to try to write so that they can be read as standalones. In other words, I'm trying to avoid a WIP series, and there's no telling how long it'll take me to tell these stories, but they'll appear sporadically and all be listed under the Tangled Histories heading in my fic index.
Summary: Set in the 1950s, Viggo reminds Elijah of his claim.
Notes: You can read this as a standalone, but if you want to know a little more about Viggo and Elijah's story, you can check out the story of their meeting in the early 19th century or this modern-day story, which was the first in the verse. All the stories in the verse are listed in posting order at the bottom of this fic index.
Viggo had been cranky for the better part of a decade. The war made him cranky, more possessive than usual, and Elijah didn't know what to do to assuage his fears. He was afraid, too, afraid of atom bombs and Germans and Viggo's rage. The end of the war didn't necessarily make things any easier, but Elijah's nightmares stopped, at least. One evening, they lay side by side in the bed in the basement, Viggo's hands on Elijah's cheeks, and Elijah remembered the vampire he'd met more than a century previous, a world away but no more distant in his memory than this morning's first kiss.
"There will always be wars," Elijah sighed, as if admitting it to himself for the first time.
"Yes," Viggo agreed, his thumb tracing over Elijah's lips, smelling of paint and turpentine.
"What's the difference?" Elijah wondered, "between Germans and Confederates? Bigger guns? It's the same hatred."
"Yes," Viggo murmured.
"Does it bother you, that things never change? I wonder if it bothers Sean. He's lived so long."
"It doesn't bother me," Viggo whispered, his hand trailing down, closing over Elijah's throat. Instantly, Elijah was back there, a creek babbling in his ear, a peaty scent of earth and moss in his nose. A thousand memories flashed through his mind. There was the steady thump of a horse's flanks between his thighs, Elijah half asleep as they rode northward through the night. The first sight of the house that would be their home for the next century and more. The crack of gunfire, the heavier blast of canons. The snarl of Viggo's fangs, the warning hiss when soldiers tried to quarter in their house, in Elijah's basement. The silent fall of snow that one winter, the smell of meat sizzling in an iron pan. The rough feel of Viggo's fingers as they spread his thighs. The black ink on a letter, informing Viggo of his new brother. Their own private party at the turn of the century, the letting of blood, the kisses stained red. The nights, the endless series of nights that started with that one, with that first claiming on the ground next to a creek in North Carolina. Relief. Passion. Dedication.
He would not die from the loss of breath in his lungs, but pet or no this kind of claiming was a visceral reminder that his life was Viggo's to give and to take. As Viggo's fingers tightened Elijah felt the panic of a breath stolen from him, but Viggo's thighs held him tightly, clamping his body to the bed. "You will always be mine." Viggo licked the words across Elijah's lips as his vision began to blur. His eyes flashed bright-hot, his hair falling around his face. Elijah wanted to brush it back, to tuck it behind his ears, to kiss Viggo's face, to worship him. Instead he remained powerless, consciousness slipping away, love running alongside Viggo's sustenance through his veins. Viggo bent and kissed Elijah's mouth, the smile on his lips the last thing Elijah would see before Viggo's fingers finally released. "That will never change."
Originally Posted at Dreamwidth |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth
Verse: Tangled Histories
Author: Viktoria Angelique (
v_angelique)
Pairings: Viggo Mortensen/Elijah Wood
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If you think this is true, you must be smoking some really, really premium shit.
Word Count: 517
kink_bingo prompt: breathplay
Verse notes: The Tangled Histories verse exists in a world where the existence of vampires is known and accepted, and a handful of vampire families make up somewhere between two and ten percent of the world population. In this verse, vampires are not affected by sunlight and there is no great universal conflict between mortals and immortal. Vampires generally only take human blood that is offered willingly, and there are plenty of humans willing to offer. They can only die from not feeding enough and perhaps a few other rare conditions. The most important things to these vampires are age, family, and respect. Various pairings will be explored in the verse, and stories may jump around the chronology, but I'm going to try to write so that they can be read as standalones. In other words, I'm trying to avoid a WIP series, and there's no telling how long it'll take me to tell these stories, but they'll appear sporadically and all be listed under the Tangled Histories heading in my fic index.
Summary: Set in the 1950s, Viggo reminds Elijah of his claim.
Notes: You can read this as a standalone, but if you want to know a little more about Viggo and Elijah's story, you can check out the story of their meeting in the early 19th century or this modern-day story, which was the first in the verse. All the stories in the verse are listed in posting order at the bottom of this fic index.
Viggo had been cranky for the better part of a decade. The war made him cranky, more possessive than usual, and Elijah didn't know what to do to assuage his fears. He was afraid, too, afraid of atom bombs and Germans and Viggo's rage. The end of the war didn't necessarily make things any easier, but Elijah's nightmares stopped, at least. One evening, they lay side by side in the bed in the basement, Viggo's hands on Elijah's cheeks, and Elijah remembered the vampire he'd met more than a century previous, a world away but no more distant in his memory than this morning's first kiss.
"There will always be wars," Elijah sighed, as if admitting it to himself for the first time.
"Yes," Viggo agreed, his thumb tracing over Elijah's lips, smelling of paint and turpentine.
"What's the difference?" Elijah wondered, "between Germans and Confederates? Bigger guns? It's the same hatred."
"Yes," Viggo murmured.
"Does it bother you, that things never change? I wonder if it bothers Sean. He's lived so long."
"It doesn't bother me," Viggo whispered, his hand trailing down, closing over Elijah's throat. Instantly, Elijah was back there, a creek babbling in his ear, a peaty scent of earth and moss in his nose. A thousand memories flashed through his mind. There was the steady thump of a horse's flanks between his thighs, Elijah half asleep as they rode northward through the night. The first sight of the house that would be their home for the next century and more. The crack of gunfire, the heavier blast of canons. The snarl of Viggo's fangs, the warning hiss when soldiers tried to quarter in their house, in Elijah's basement. The silent fall of snow that one winter, the smell of meat sizzling in an iron pan. The rough feel of Viggo's fingers as they spread his thighs. The black ink on a letter, informing Viggo of his new brother. Their own private party at the turn of the century, the letting of blood, the kisses stained red. The nights, the endless series of nights that started with that one, with that first claiming on the ground next to a creek in North Carolina. Relief. Passion. Dedication.
He would not die from the loss of breath in his lungs, but pet or no this kind of claiming was a visceral reminder that his life was Viggo's to give and to take. As Viggo's fingers tightened Elijah felt the panic of a breath stolen from him, but Viggo's thighs held him tightly, clamping his body to the bed. "You will always be mine." Viggo licked the words across Elijah's lips as his vision began to blur. His eyes flashed bright-hot, his hair falling around his face. Elijah wanted to brush it back, to tuck it behind his ears, to kiss Viggo's face, to worship him. Instead he remained powerless, consciousness slipping away, love running alongside Viggo's sustenance through his veins. Viggo bent and kissed Elijah's mouth, the smile on his lips the last thing Elijah would see before Viggo's fingers finally released. "That will never change."
Originally Posted at Dreamwidth |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth