Mine (7/?)
Title: Mine (7/?)
Authors: empathicfrost (Frost) and theonemonaghan (Kacey)
Pairing: Deacon Frost / Scud ( frost_and_scud )
Rating: series NC-17 for language, violence and sex
Disclaimer: Not our stuff, but Kacey makes Frost listen to Scud’s theme song on the Blade 2 ST.
A/N: AU, but that doesn’t mean its not fun!
Summary: Its the pet's fault.
Previous Chapters: Part One, Part Two, Part Three , Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Chapter Seven:
Scud couldn't sleep once Deacon had gone to bed. He'd tried, though. As soon as Deacon was obviously in his bed and closed off to the world, the human had thrown himself into his futon, and covered his head with pillows and blankets. He'd laid there for hours, not able to sleep and the collar around his neck feeling heavy.
It was impossible to take it off, though. Deacon had told him not too--and even if Scud found himself angry and hurt at his masters’ actions...
He was still his master.
Finally, the idea of sleep was abandoned, blankets were pushed aside, and Scud exited the room. He sat at the bar, staring at the clock on the wall.
He did not sleep for the whole day. Instead, he dazed and stared. He bit at his nails and lips and fidgeted with anything he got his hands on.
He did not take the collar off.
By the time that night came around, Scud felt like a zombie. Rings were under his eyes, and when he leaned over too far in any direction, the pet felt as if he were falling. He gazed at something that wasn't really there and wondered idly what time it was, even though he'd looked at the clock less than five minutes before.
Deacon had only been watching for a few minutes, his hair still dry and flattened down over his eyes from sleeping, one shoulder leant against the corridor wall, never looking away from Scud. Even though the pet was sitting at the bar, he was swaying in unbalance. Deacon could see the exhausted furrow of Scud's brow, the permanent sleepless grimace that was on Scud's mouth. A corner of Scud's lip was bleeding from the human's own tearing teeth and Deacon could smell it before he even got close enough to see it.
Arms slid in around Scud, under his shoulders and knees, lifting him from the stool without effort. The pet was too drained to resist when his feet left the ground and he might not have even felt his own head lean against Deacon's neck as the vampire carried him to the bedroom.
It was not the thin mattress of the futon that met Scud's back when the arms were placing him down again - he was welcomed by the immaculate white sheets of Deacon's bed, and the weight of Deacon sitting beside him tilted only a small portion of the cushion. Then fingers were touching the human's throat, smooth, slow fingers that slid the buckle of the collar free - careful fingers that peeled the strap away from the skin and grazed lightly over the red streak of pressure that was left behind on his pet's throat.
Deacon sighed - on the brink of speaking the words that lingered on the tip of his tongue. You stupid fucking human. Are you trying to kill yourself now? Is that how you mean to free yourself from me? Your cruel master...
Deacon scowled inwardly at the end of that thought and forced himself not to feel any guilt. But it tightened his shoulders and it brought his palm to rest against Scud's forehead, smoothing away the line of exhaustion there and ghosting down over Scud's sleepy eyes to close them. A different, nameless emotion curled the tips of his fingers into the human's hair, yet another emotion caressed his thumb over the pale skin of Scud's slightly stubbled chin.
His pet was imperfect. Flawed. Pathetic. Weak. Beautiful. Deacon lowered his face over the human's and collected the blood beading from Scud's bitten lip with his tongue. But it wasn’t enough - Deacon's head tilted to kiss the broken skin.
Mine.
In a few hours, there was going to be another party at Deacon's, but the Vampire didn’t want Scud to attend the event this time. He slid off of the bed and abandoned the exhausted human to his sleep, locking the bedroom door when he left.
-----
During the party, Deacon discovered that word had spread about his new affection for humans. Some were saying he had even attended an event the night before where every vampire guest had brought a human with them.
Frost? Frost hates pets. Why would he--
I heard he was even touching one.
Are you sure he wasn’t just playing with his food?
Definitely. He didn’t eat the human. They say that the human even lives here.
I wonder if he--
The host could hear the sly rumors passing through his apartment even though none of the guests were looking his direction, too afraid to meet his gaze. No matter what Frost did with humans or not, he was their leader, he was their God.
But that wasn’t enough for Frost, he was sick of the way Mercury was holding his arm and pleading silently with her eyes, asking Deacon to tell her the rumors weren’t true. He shook her off with a growl that sent her hissing hurtfully to Quinn.
Deacon's right hand man looked mildly disapproving, but just like everyone else, Quinn was too cowardly to address the questions he had for Frost. Are you goin’ soft, Deacon? That human has been with you for more than a week, why haven’t you just killed it yet?
"Get out."
Despite the number of the guests and the volume of the talking - everyone heard Deacon Frost. It was fear that kept them from moving and it slowed their tongues into silence.
"Get out." The host stood, jaw tightening until a muscle ticked in his cheek. Quinn scrambled up to his feet to protest with a big, joking smile already on his mouth.
"Hey, Frost - man, what’s been going on with you lately?" Quinn wasn’t even trying to be subtle about the conversation in front of everyone else. He assumed he was impressing the women in the apartment by taking advantage of his friendship with the infamous Deacon.
But Quinn didn’t impress anyone when he hit the floor, covering his nose with his hands while blood seeped out between his knuckles. Frost's fist throbbed from how hard it had connected to Quinn's face, crushing some of Quinn's bones into dust that wouldn’t heal themselves for a month.
Deacon's gaze lifted to the others without moving his head. It was clear that this was not one of Deacon's playful, joking moods. They all cleared out, unable to keep their murmurs quiet until they left - already new rumors grew about the reasons for Quinn and Deacon's argument.
Mercury was the last to leave; she pulled Quinn to his feet and scowled helplessly at Deacon - worriedly? Longingly? Deacon didn’t care. Quinn could make no expression nor was he brave enough to say anything else .
Deacon's fists didn’t uncurl until the door closed behind them and he was alone.
What -is- wrong with me?
The rumors had disturbed him as much as Guiseppe’s taunts had the night before. His power was threatened by those accusations, if they believed their leader had flaws, he could loose all the control he held over them.
It was the pet's fault.
Deacon was moving toward his bedroom with a fierce speed, pushing the door open when it slid too slowly apart.
The vampire expected to let loose his usual insults on the innocent human, the way he had during the last week whenever he was stressed. But he found Scud typing into the computer on the desk in Deacon's room. Deacon's computer.
And that was how he snapped - first the rumors, now the human was messing with his computer? Deacon knew Scud didn’t see him because of the yelp the human made when he was yanked backwards off of the desk chair by the back of his shirt and thrown to the floor. The cigarette in Scud's mouth was coughed out in shock and Deacon's cross necklace snapped off of the human's neck, forgotten where it slid away across the floor.
Deacon was on Scud that quickly, straddling the pet's waist to deliver a fast and brutal back hand that snapped the humans' head to the side and threw a curtain of his dark hair over his face.
"What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?"
Nothing is wrong with me, I haven’t changed. I don’t care about humans. I don’t fucking care about -one- human!
But who was Deacon trying to convince? Everyone else? or himself...?
Blue eyes were too wide when Scud finally found reasoning enough to turn his head back to Deacon, who was still sitting in his stomach, looking more than threatening.
He's going to kill me. Scud just knew it, and it was an oddly numb thing, to know. To see his death, right there on fucking top of him.
The slap had made teeth close down on his cheek, reopening the wounds from earlier in the day, and he knew that his nose was bleeding, because he felt it on his lip.
Mouth opened to reveal bloodstained teeth, and a soft whimper left his mouth before he could stop it.
He wasn't going to cry before he died. Scud wasn't going to give Deacon--his master--the satisfaction of it. If he was going to die, he was going to die as Scud. Not "pet".
He replied softly, knowing his words probably wouldn't matter. "... I fixed it." Barely a whisper--and his eyes were closing, head tilting to the side. As ready as he thought he may be for his death, he wasn't willing to face it.
With Scud’s eyes averted, the human did not see the flinch that passed over Deacon's fanged snarl.
... Fixed it?
Nostrils flared with a mix of fury and confusion and Deacon's weight was lifting off of the human when he shoved himself to his feet, turning back to the desk and the computer.
It didn’t take Deacon long to recognize that the screen no longer flickered like a television's bad reception nor did it refuse his commands when he quickly, suspiciously tested the keyboard.
The broken laptop was fixed.
Realization weighted Deacon's chest and screwed his lips into a pained tilt. The useless pet was not useless after all. The human had not been trespassing into Deacon's computer files, he had been helping Deacon by solving the lap top's problems.
"Come here," It was Deacon's hand that was stretched down to Scud.
Scud’s eyes were opened--but hesitantly as Deacon spoke. The vampire's soft voice licked at his senses, asking for forgiveness that Scud knew his master would probably never speak aloud.
Despite this, the human flinched. Eyes narrowed and his shaking body couldn't help it; when Deacon's hand came near him, he tensed.
Temples throbbed, an acute pain starting in his due to his short tangle with what could have been death and a shaky breath was taken.
He's not going to kill me. Mind was trying to reason things out--to understand the mood swings that more often than not subjected Scud to punishment. He promised he wouldn't.
That hesitant reassurance didn't make him want to sit up any faster, or even move his trembling hand up to reach for Deacon's.
It was unspoken disobedience not to take Deacon's hand. Somewhere else, this might have been punishable. But not in this room, Deacon's hand already hurt too much from its previous actions. But the ache that was in his fingers did not come from physical pain. They ached for repent - Deacon loathed admitting that his hand ached for any sign of the human's understanding.
I didn’t want to hurt you... It’s your fault, for being in the wrong place when I needed to hurt something anything. Your fault...
Deacon was kneeling, coming closer to Scud when Scud would not come closer to him and he fisted some of the human's red shirt and tugged to bring him sitting up.
The blood pooling under his pet's nose was touched gently when Deacon gently palmed Scud's reddened cheek, smoothing up the thick liquid until just a stain was left to taint the flesh. With the position of the human's face in his hands, Deacon had control of the angle in which it tilted. His eyes lowered to smoky slits that wandered up for the human's and he kept his gaze there, rather than look away and sink into his own betraying thoughts, when he licked the stain arching above Scud's lip.
Your fault... that I've changed.
The soft apologetic licking of his upper lip was what made Scud sorry for ever doubting Deacon. He cares, somehow. And that was all that mattered--right now, anyway--that's what Scud was trying to tell himself.
When Deacon finally pulled back, Scud lowered his eyes a little, breaking the gaze. "Sorry," he murmured in so quiet a tone, it would be almost surprising if Deacon even heard it.
He was sitting up a little more on his own now--no longer afraid to move, but still being careful with his actions.
Except that when Scud relieved Deacon of having to hold him in the sitting position, the focus of the vampire's touch could shift solely to the human's face. Scud's cheek was not yet swollen, but it would be. His limp brown hair hung heavily over his eyes and the bridge of his nose, usually tamed when tucked behind his slightly jutting ears. But Deacon's strike had disturbed that semblance of neatness and spread the strands haphazardly over the human's expression.
Deacon could see the blue eyes lower through partings in Scud's bangs but with a sigh, he brushed the hair back, leaving his fingers behind Scud's ear. Feline mouth held no fanged smirk, or growl, merely lay open until he breathed in.
"Don’t pull away."
And the gentle pressure of Deacon's hands led Scud's mouth to his.
-----
Tbc.
-----
Next Chapter (preview): But the pet's breath was pulsing softly over his mouth and there were fingers grasping his waist and heavily lidded blue eyes asking him not to stop.
Authors: empathicfrost (Frost) and theonemonaghan (Kacey)
Pairing: Deacon Frost / Scud ( frost_and_scud )
Rating: series NC-17 for language, violence and sex
Disclaimer: Not our stuff, but Kacey makes Frost listen to Scud’s theme song on the Blade 2 ST.
A/N: AU, but that doesn’t mean its not fun!
Summary: Its the pet's fault.
Previous Chapters: Part One, Part Two, Part Three , Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Chapter Seven:
Scud couldn't sleep once Deacon had gone to bed. He'd tried, though. As soon as Deacon was obviously in his bed and closed off to the world, the human had thrown himself into his futon, and covered his head with pillows and blankets. He'd laid there for hours, not able to sleep and the collar around his neck feeling heavy.
It was impossible to take it off, though. Deacon had told him not too--and even if Scud found himself angry and hurt at his masters’ actions...
He was still his master.
Finally, the idea of sleep was abandoned, blankets were pushed aside, and Scud exited the room. He sat at the bar, staring at the clock on the wall.
He did not sleep for the whole day. Instead, he dazed and stared. He bit at his nails and lips and fidgeted with anything he got his hands on.
He did not take the collar off.
By the time that night came around, Scud felt like a zombie. Rings were under his eyes, and when he leaned over too far in any direction, the pet felt as if he were falling. He gazed at something that wasn't really there and wondered idly what time it was, even though he'd looked at the clock less than five minutes before.
Deacon had only been watching for a few minutes, his hair still dry and flattened down over his eyes from sleeping, one shoulder leant against the corridor wall, never looking away from Scud. Even though the pet was sitting at the bar, he was swaying in unbalance. Deacon could see the exhausted furrow of Scud's brow, the permanent sleepless grimace that was on Scud's mouth. A corner of Scud's lip was bleeding from the human's own tearing teeth and Deacon could smell it before he even got close enough to see it.
Arms slid in around Scud, under his shoulders and knees, lifting him from the stool without effort. The pet was too drained to resist when his feet left the ground and he might not have even felt his own head lean against Deacon's neck as the vampire carried him to the bedroom.
It was not the thin mattress of the futon that met Scud's back when the arms were placing him down again - he was welcomed by the immaculate white sheets of Deacon's bed, and the weight of Deacon sitting beside him tilted only a small portion of the cushion. Then fingers were touching the human's throat, smooth, slow fingers that slid the buckle of the collar free - careful fingers that peeled the strap away from the skin and grazed lightly over the red streak of pressure that was left behind on his pet's throat.
Deacon sighed - on the brink of speaking the words that lingered on the tip of his tongue. You stupid fucking human. Are you trying to kill yourself now? Is that how you mean to free yourself from me? Your cruel master...
Deacon scowled inwardly at the end of that thought and forced himself not to feel any guilt. But it tightened his shoulders and it brought his palm to rest against Scud's forehead, smoothing away the line of exhaustion there and ghosting down over Scud's sleepy eyes to close them. A different, nameless emotion curled the tips of his fingers into the human's hair, yet another emotion caressed his thumb over the pale skin of Scud's slightly stubbled chin.
His pet was imperfect. Flawed. Pathetic. Weak. Beautiful. Deacon lowered his face over the human's and collected the blood beading from Scud's bitten lip with his tongue. But it wasn’t enough - Deacon's head tilted to kiss the broken skin.
Mine.
In a few hours, there was going to be another party at Deacon's, but the Vampire didn’t want Scud to attend the event this time. He slid off of the bed and abandoned the exhausted human to his sleep, locking the bedroom door when he left.
-----
During the party, Deacon discovered that word had spread about his new affection for humans. Some were saying he had even attended an event the night before where every vampire guest had brought a human with them.
Frost? Frost hates pets. Why would he--
I heard he was even touching one.
Are you sure he wasn’t just playing with his food?
Definitely. He didn’t eat the human. They say that the human even lives here.
I wonder if he--
The host could hear the sly rumors passing through his apartment even though none of the guests were looking his direction, too afraid to meet his gaze. No matter what Frost did with humans or not, he was their leader, he was their God.
But that wasn’t enough for Frost, he was sick of the way Mercury was holding his arm and pleading silently with her eyes, asking Deacon to tell her the rumors weren’t true. He shook her off with a growl that sent her hissing hurtfully to Quinn.
Deacon's right hand man looked mildly disapproving, but just like everyone else, Quinn was too cowardly to address the questions he had for Frost. Are you goin’ soft, Deacon? That human has been with you for more than a week, why haven’t you just killed it yet?
"Get out."
Despite the number of the guests and the volume of the talking - everyone heard Deacon Frost. It was fear that kept them from moving and it slowed their tongues into silence.
"Get out." The host stood, jaw tightening until a muscle ticked in his cheek. Quinn scrambled up to his feet to protest with a big, joking smile already on his mouth.
"Hey, Frost - man, what’s been going on with you lately?" Quinn wasn’t even trying to be subtle about the conversation in front of everyone else. He assumed he was impressing the women in the apartment by taking advantage of his friendship with the infamous Deacon.
But Quinn didn’t impress anyone when he hit the floor, covering his nose with his hands while blood seeped out between his knuckles. Frost's fist throbbed from how hard it had connected to Quinn's face, crushing some of Quinn's bones into dust that wouldn’t heal themselves for a month.
Deacon's gaze lifted to the others without moving his head. It was clear that this was not one of Deacon's playful, joking moods. They all cleared out, unable to keep their murmurs quiet until they left - already new rumors grew about the reasons for Quinn and Deacon's argument.
Mercury was the last to leave; she pulled Quinn to his feet and scowled helplessly at Deacon - worriedly? Longingly? Deacon didn’t care. Quinn could make no expression nor was he brave enough to say anything else .
Deacon's fists didn’t uncurl until the door closed behind them and he was alone.
What -is- wrong with me?
The rumors had disturbed him as much as Guiseppe’s taunts had the night before. His power was threatened by those accusations, if they believed their leader had flaws, he could loose all the control he held over them.
It was the pet's fault.
Deacon was moving toward his bedroom with a fierce speed, pushing the door open when it slid too slowly apart.
The vampire expected to let loose his usual insults on the innocent human, the way he had during the last week whenever he was stressed. But he found Scud typing into the computer on the desk in Deacon's room. Deacon's computer.
And that was how he snapped - first the rumors, now the human was messing with his computer? Deacon knew Scud didn’t see him because of the yelp the human made when he was yanked backwards off of the desk chair by the back of his shirt and thrown to the floor. The cigarette in Scud's mouth was coughed out in shock and Deacon's cross necklace snapped off of the human's neck, forgotten where it slid away across the floor.
Deacon was on Scud that quickly, straddling the pet's waist to deliver a fast and brutal back hand that snapped the humans' head to the side and threw a curtain of his dark hair over his face.
"What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?"
Nothing is wrong with me, I haven’t changed. I don’t care about humans. I don’t fucking care about -one- human!
But who was Deacon trying to convince? Everyone else? or himself...?
Blue eyes were too wide when Scud finally found reasoning enough to turn his head back to Deacon, who was still sitting in his stomach, looking more than threatening.
He's going to kill me. Scud just knew it, and it was an oddly numb thing, to know. To see his death, right there on fucking top of him.
The slap had made teeth close down on his cheek, reopening the wounds from earlier in the day, and he knew that his nose was bleeding, because he felt it on his lip.
Mouth opened to reveal bloodstained teeth, and a soft whimper left his mouth before he could stop it.
He wasn't going to cry before he died. Scud wasn't going to give Deacon--his master--the satisfaction of it. If he was going to die, he was going to die as Scud. Not "pet".
He replied softly, knowing his words probably wouldn't matter. "... I fixed it." Barely a whisper--and his eyes were closing, head tilting to the side. As ready as he thought he may be for his death, he wasn't willing to face it.
With Scud’s eyes averted, the human did not see the flinch that passed over Deacon's fanged snarl.
... Fixed it?
Nostrils flared with a mix of fury and confusion and Deacon's weight was lifting off of the human when he shoved himself to his feet, turning back to the desk and the computer.
It didn’t take Deacon long to recognize that the screen no longer flickered like a television's bad reception nor did it refuse his commands when he quickly, suspiciously tested the keyboard.
The broken laptop was fixed.
Realization weighted Deacon's chest and screwed his lips into a pained tilt. The useless pet was not useless after all. The human had not been trespassing into Deacon's computer files, he had been helping Deacon by solving the lap top's problems.
"Come here," It was Deacon's hand that was stretched down to Scud.
Scud’s eyes were opened--but hesitantly as Deacon spoke. The vampire's soft voice licked at his senses, asking for forgiveness that Scud knew his master would probably never speak aloud.
Despite this, the human flinched. Eyes narrowed and his shaking body couldn't help it; when Deacon's hand came near him, he tensed.
Temples throbbed, an acute pain starting in his due to his short tangle with what could have been death and a shaky breath was taken.
He's not going to kill me. Mind was trying to reason things out--to understand the mood swings that more often than not subjected Scud to punishment. He promised he wouldn't.
That hesitant reassurance didn't make him want to sit up any faster, or even move his trembling hand up to reach for Deacon's.
It was unspoken disobedience not to take Deacon's hand. Somewhere else, this might have been punishable. But not in this room, Deacon's hand already hurt too much from its previous actions. But the ache that was in his fingers did not come from physical pain. They ached for repent - Deacon loathed admitting that his hand ached for any sign of the human's understanding.
I didn’t want to hurt you... It’s your fault, for being in the wrong place when I needed to hurt something anything. Your fault...
Deacon was kneeling, coming closer to Scud when Scud would not come closer to him and he fisted some of the human's red shirt and tugged to bring him sitting up.
The blood pooling under his pet's nose was touched gently when Deacon gently palmed Scud's reddened cheek, smoothing up the thick liquid until just a stain was left to taint the flesh. With the position of the human's face in his hands, Deacon had control of the angle in which it tilted. His eyes lowered to smoky slits that wandered up for the human's and he kept his gaze there, rather than look away and sink into his own betraying thoughts, when he licked the stain arching above Scud's lip.
Your fault... that I've changed.
The soft apologetic licking of his upper lip was what made Scud sorry for ever doubting Deacon. He cares, somehow. And that was all that mattered--right now, anyway--that's what Scud was trying to tell himself.
When Deacon finally pulled back, Scud lowered his eyes a little, breaking the gaze. "Sorry," he murmured in so quiet a tone, it would be almost surprising if Deacon even heard it.
He was sitting up a little more on his own now--no longer afraid to move, but still being careful with his actions.
Except that when Scud relieved Deacon of having to hold him in the sitting position, the focus of the vampire's touch could shift solely to the human's face. Scud's cheek was not yet swollen, but it would be. His limp brown hair hung heavily over his eyes and the bridge of his nose, usually tamed when tucked behind his slightly jutting ears. But Deacon's strike had disturbed that semblance of neatness and spread the strands haphazardly over the human's expression.
Deacon could see the blue eyes lower through partings in Scud's bangs but with a sigh, he brushed the hair back, leaving his fingers behind Scud's ear. Feline mouth held no fanged smirk, or growl, merely lay open until he breathed in.
"Don’t pull away."
And the gentle pressure of Deacon's hands led Scud's mouth to his.
-----
Tbc.
-----
Next Chapter (preview): But the pet's breath was pulsing softly over his mouth and there were fingers grasping his waist and heavily lidded blue eyes asking him not to stop.