Decadent; for smut_69, NC-17
Written for the smut_69 challenge for prompt #60. Enemies
This is something I wanted to write to finish off the series of ficlets: In the Company of Wolves, Small Crimes and Touching the Void
Summary: Dracual watches Anna's mind and rages. Continuation on Small Crimes, and happens before Touching the Void Warning! references to Dracula/Gabriel
Decadent
In a distant sort of way Dracula remembers Gabriel’s mind, remembers the feral way he used to smile long time past, and he wants to twine the Princess’ neck for calling it forth again. It used to be a smile reserved only for him, only for Vlad, in the forest when the blood of the game was fresh and still warm between their fingers.
But in her mind he can see the smile, twisted and angry, and now only for her.
She breathes out slowly, mouth open and eyes vacant, mind numb under his power. It is too easy for him. Humans are so fragile and so weak, minds of mingled twine of fury and insecurities. The princess is like they all are, weak and open under Dracula’s gaze. He pulls harder and further into her mind, fuelled by his rage and jealousy.
The wolves are howling in her head, and if he looks hard enough, he can recognize her brother in their minds. But then again he always could. Then he can feel the bark of the oak, how it scraped her back and left long grooves into the skin, which have not yet healed. He can feel as the lacings of the dress press against the cuts, and he trills in the knowledge of her pain. He knows what Gabriel felt inside of her and tasted in her mouth. He knows it like reading a description from an old book, spoiled by the smell of dust and crinkly paper under his fingers. They are not his memories, and Dracula knows that deep down the Princess is laughing at him, laughing at his obsession.
He punishes her. He peels her mind apart, layer by layer, flesh by flesh until she is raw and open and shaking. Slow trickle of blood wells from her nose. It is stark and bright against her white skin, and soon it drips and disappears into the red of her dress. But it is still not enough. He wants more. He wants to peel her mind open until the final layer of Gabriel is exposed to him. The feral smile does not belong to her, and Dracula will take it back, wrench it away from her memories. For she does not have the blood of the animals, or the right to take it from him.
He sees Gabriel as he crawls over her on the soiled sheets of her bed. He feels the parting of her legs, and shudders as the desire for submission filters through her mind into his. He feels her nails sinking into his flesh and the blood that smeared on her fingertips and stayed in the grooves of her skin for days afterwards. He wants to lick those fingers, but Anna never brings her hands by her mouth and the memory leaves Dracula wanting.
He is angry and he pulls her head back by her hair, the fine clips and gold threads catching on his bony fingers.
“Give him to me!”
But she just laughs, the sound gurgling in her throat, and he knows what she is thinking.
This is my mind, not his. You will not find him in here. He is in here.
In her mind her womb pulsates red and bright, and Dracula drags her to the dance by her hair.
Continued in Touching the Void
This is something I wanted to write to finish off the series of ficlets: In the Company of Wolves, Small Crimes and Touching the Void
Summary: Dracual watches Anna's mind and rages. Continuation on Small Crimes, and happens before Touching the Void Warning! references to Dracula/Gabriel
Decadent
In a distant sort of way Dracula remembers Gabriel’s mind, remembers the feral way he used to smile long time past, and he wants to twine the Princess’ neck for calling it forth again. It used to be a smile reserved only for him, only for Vlad, in the forest when the blood of the game was fresh and still warm between their fingers.
But in her mind he can see the smile, twisted and angry, and now only for her.
She breathes out slowly, mouth open and eyes vacant, mind numb under his power. It is too easy for him. Humans are so fragile and so weak, minds of mingled twine of fury and insecurities. The princess is like they all are, weak and open under Dracula’s gaze. He pulls harder and further into her mind, fuelled by his rage and jealousy.
The wolves are howling in her head, and if he looks hard enough, he can recognize her brother in their minds. But then again he always could. Then he can feel the bark of the oak, how it scraped her back and left long grooves into the skin, which have not yet healed. He can feel as the lacings of the dress press against the cuts, and he trills in the knowledge of her pain. He knows what Gabriel felt inside of her and tasted in her mouth. He knows it like reading a description from an old book, spoiled by the smell of dust and crinkly paper under his fingers. They are not his memories, and Dracula knows that deep down the Princess is laughing at him, laughing at his obsession.
He punishes her. He peels her mind apart, layer by layer, flesh by flesh until she is raw and open and shaking. Slow trickle of blood wells from her nose. It is stark and bright against her white skin, and soon it drips and disappears into the red of her dress. But it is still not enough. He wants more. He wants to peel her mind open until the final layer of Gabriel is exposed to him. The feral smile does not belong to her, and Dracula will take it back, wrench it away from her memories. For she does not have the blood of the animals, or the right to take it from him.
He sees Gabriel as he crawls over her on the soiled sheets of her bed. He feels the parting of her legs, and shudders as the desire for submission filters through her mind into his. He feels her nails sinking into his flesh and the blood that smeared on her fingertips and stayed in the grooves of her skin for days afterwards. He wants to lick those fingers, but Anna never brings her hands by her mouth and the memory leaves Dracula wanting.
He is angry and he pulls her head back by her hair, the fine clips and gold threads catching on his bony fingers.
“Give him to me!”
But she just laughs, the sound gurgling in her throat, and he knows what she is thinking.
This is my mind, not his. You will not find him in here. He is in here.
In her mind her womb pulsates red and bright, and Dracula drags her to the dance by her hair.
Continued in Touching the Void