NaNoWriMo 2009 - Blood Soaked Lovers [ 1 / 10]
Title: Blood Soaked Lovers
Rating: NC-17 / MA
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairings: Original minor characters / Chekov, Sulu/Chekov, Spock/Chekov
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the characters nor the song titles
Warnings: Dub-con, explicit sex with a minor, drug use
Summary: Pavel Andreievich Chekov wished he had been born ugly instead of cursed by beauty.
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CHAPTER ONE: CURSED BY BEAUTY
The room was dark when Pavel stepped into it, the only light being the red lights that hung overhead and provided the undead with enough luminescence to see him by. His head felt light, his body flushed, his mind too scattered for him to remember where he was or what he was doing. It was hardly the first time he had felt this sensation and there was no doubt it would be the last. He hardly noticed the cold of the room against his bare torso but he could feel the cold black marble he stood on, his stage, and the eyes that watched him with gazes full of lust and desire, the intensity of which would have any sober seventeen year old running for their lives. It was a shame Pavel wasn’t sober. He hadn’t been sober in a long time.
The haunting Arabic music began, the drum beat slow and powerful as the young man began his dance, moving his hips in a style typical of the female dancers the men who ran this establishment kept. Along his arms he wore elbow length, black, fingerless gloves and his long fingers wove intricate patterns in the air to better illustrate his natural grace. Around his neck he wore a black leather collar that fit him tightly with a gold chain that dangled from it to connect to it’s sister chain that bound together the black leather manacles the teenager wore over his gloved wrists. His shorts were form fitting and over them he wore a golden belt of belly dancer’s coins that rattled every time he shook his hips His feet were bare but the anklet he wore, also of gold, on his right ankle had the name of the vampire who owned him on it, making sure none would dare touch him without that creature’s permission.
His abdomen seemed to move as a beautiful serpent’s body as he brought one hand up to brush aside the few blond curls that feel forward into his grey eyes that were shadowed by storm grey make up and lined by a dark eyeliner that only make the natural color stand out even more against the pallor of his skin. His lips were parted as he moved, long fingers tracing over his own neck and torso as he continued to dance and if he did sweat he was hardly aware of it. Here he was center stage. Here, in this drug induced haze, as he danced his sensual dance, he was the serpent being charmed by the music of the charmer.
He turned his back on the audience, spreading his arms out, as he moved his hips in an almost unnatural manner, the lean muscles of his back flexing and contorting to accommodate the move with ease. Pavel couldn’t hear the clinking of his own chains or the jingling of the belt. All he knew was the beat of the beautiful music and his urge to dance to it. His hands and arms moved with the same grace as the rest of his body in the air around him. There were other dancers but they were standing too far away from him to have to worry about the crowding him. The smoke in the room grew thicker, only entrancing him further.
If the music shifted songs, he did not hear it but he did feel the shift in the air around him, causing him to turn about as a vampire joined him on the stage, running their hands over his soft, warm skin while their cold, clammy hands sent shivers up his spine. Fear and horror nagged at the back of the teenager’s mind but the drugs kept him from recognizing that fear as anything to be seriously acted upon. He continued to dance under those cold hands, letting them run up his chest and using their touches to guide what his next move should be. His own hands didn’t touch the other creature. He had long ago been trained out of that.
The vampire leaned in further and whispered something in his ear, something he didn’t understand as anything other than a request of some kind. Pavel lifted his eyes to find his master, Lord Spock, amongst those watching his performance, seeking his permission to grant this person whatever it was they requested. Spock’s features, lean and severe with dark hair cut sharply and a bloodline so old he had the pointed ears of his long extinct native peoples, were impassive but his nod was unmistakable. Master approved of whatever this man was asking him to do so he granted this man permission with a nod of his own.
The hands that had before only touched his already exposed skin slid down his body, down his back, to dip into his black shorts, slipping with ease passed the beltline while he continued to dance. His breath caught in his chest and he must have gasped at the contact because the vampire leaned in closer and pressed those cold lips against his neck, making the teenager have to lower his arms so that his chains would not catch in the other’s clothes or rub him uncomfortably. His mind was screaming in horror, begging for this to stop, but his thoughts, his pleas, never came to be voiced. Hungry eyes watched him with this man as slowly, but surely, his shorts were slipped from his body and his gloves were taken off his arms, leaving him dressed in only the black leather of the manacles and collar and the gold of his accessories. He continued to dance, heedless of the fact his body was bare of anything covering any semblance of modesty on him.
The vampire had stepped back to watch the nude teenager move but then couldn’t hold back any further and stepped forward, strong hands sliding easily over the firm, round globes of pale ass and massaging them with a firm grip while sharp fangs brushed his pale neck above his collar once more. Soft moans he had not wanted to escape him slipped out anyway and his grey eyes fell shut. The creature took these sounds of encouragement and slipped one finger into his entrance without any form of preparation, gently fucking him with it. His body was relaxed by both drugs and the music but the intrusion still felt odd. At least it wasn’t painful, not yet.
Soon a second finger joined the first and the ease at which they stretched him from the inside would have any sane man feeling sick to their stomach. Pavel’s heart felt sick but his body continued to accept what was being done to it, whimpering, gasping and moaning like it enjoyed the feeling of being finger fucked. This was hardly the first time his master had let a client fuck him on the stage. He felt another dancer, moving with the grace they were all given through the calming effects of the burned herb, come to take the center of his chains and loop them around the hook that was being lowered to allow him to be lifted off the ground if needed so this man could fuck him more thoroughly. He did not protest the movement, even as the vampire that held him turned him around so he could insert a third finger while he was being strung up.
The music seemed to grow louder as the hook was raised to stretch his arms above his head and the fingers that had stretched him out as best they could withdrew. While his soul quivered in fear at the feeling of a blunt cock being pressed to the entrance, too cold to be human, his body did not protest in the slightest. It just kept dance, kept swaying those lean, beautiful hips and making the spine seem to slither though his shoulders, for the most part remained in place. The vampire drove into him, the pain of being forced open even after the stretching enough to penetrate the fog over his mind and give him the release of a single pained cry, but then the fog thickened again, covering up and hiding the young man that was Pavel Chekov once more and sealing him away.
He could hear the other vampires in the room cheering and applauding as he was roughly fucked though a few of them masturbated in unison with the creature taking pleasure in his body, the sounds of their approval being intermingled with the other’s. The other dancers on the stage ignored what was going on, continuing to dance on their own to the music that kept being played over the speakers. Against his will, Pavel could feel the cold, clammy hand grab onto his own very human manhood and stroke it in time with the thrusts into his body, the strokes against his prostate sending pleasure through him that could not hope to contradict the shame and pain of the act.
The vampire came quickly and released him just before his body gave into the pleasure but it wasn’t all that long until another came up to take his place, using the semen and blood from the previous man to ease himself into the abused entrance. A third vampire came up onto the stage and wrapped his cold lips around the human’s cock, swallowing it nearly whole. Pavel’s lips cried for more, begging to be fucked harder, to be sucked more, but the man within the body curled further onto himself, deep in his heart, crying in agony.
His body came just as the second vampire did and the vampire that had sucked his cock, stood to unhook the chains from above him, demanding in a tone of voice that left no question, that the favor be returned. As drugged as he was, the human had very little choice in the matter. His lips wrapped themselves around the vampire’s rather well endowed manhood and he did what he had been trained to do over all these years when it came to pleasuring a male of the undead kind, taking what he could for a while before letting the man face fuck him. All the while the music played and his body kept shifting, kept trying to move to the music, despite his exhaustion while it pleasure this almost corpse.
This third vampire came eventually and the semen tasted bitter and disgusting on the mortal’s tongue. However he had been trained well and fought back the urge to vomit he foul substance up again, instead swallowing it gratefully. The vampire retreated into the crowd as a fourth moved to come onto the stage while Pavel got to his feet but Lord Spock stood instead, making the fourth man sit down again. Pavel couldn’t stop his body from making a ‘come hither’ motion to the lord as it continued to dance but his soul at the same time was relieved. Lord Spock’s bloodline had been able to hear the thoughts of any mortal they touched, hear the words kept locked behind closed lips and strict controls. Surely, of all the people here, this vampire would be the one to have mercy on him and allow him to return to that lonely, cold cell he called a home.
The Elder reached out and caressed his lean face, dark eyes searching in Pavel’s unfocused grey for something that the boy was unsure he had within himself. He saw the widening of the other’s eyes, probably the surprise at the intense shame and pain that filled this beautiful, thoroughly fucked human body, and sighed as he took his hand away. He pulled once gently on the golden chains, a wordless sign to grab the clothes he had lost and go, and the young Russian was all to happy to comply with that request. Before he did, though, the lord pulled on the chain once more, slightly rougher, then let go and walked back to his seat.
Chekov leaned down and gathered his clothes, still smoothly swaying back and forth as his replacement, an equally beautiful woman, danced forward, her clothes more conservative than his simply by the virtue that she was covered up to the full extent of a true belly dancer. Having no choice, since he was still performing, still drugged, the young man danced his way off the stage and into a small, stone corridor that led underground. The torches that lit it gave the place plenty of illumination for him to make it through the hallway sober but being high off some herb he couldn’t remember made it all the more difficult. The cool, damp air against his flushed body made him shiver but he didn’t care so much as he walked further into the bowels of the castle towards the dungeons that he and his fellow vampires’ slaves remained while the masters interacted with their own kind. He wondered, vaguely if the Japanese man would be there or if he would be upstairs with a client. He hoped not. He needed a human touch before he was ravished by another corpse tonight.
The corridor he walked along soon opened up the main dungeons where the slaves were kept in metal cages, their true chains attached to a loop that was bolted into the ground and kept them from even contemplating something so far as escape. Each small cage-like cell had two slaves inside who shared a bed of stray, a small toilet and pair of buckets of bathing water. Their clothes were limited to rags unless there was a performance, like tonight, but those clothes were always taken back by the master who loaned them to the slave. The iron chains, for the performances, were exchanged for gold and the rough leather manacles and collar were exchanged for softer, more comfortable leather ones. A guard stood at the end of the hall to make sure no one tried to steal any one slave and there was a guard by each cell to ensure the slaves were locked away properly.
Walking by the first guard, the effects of the earlier drug started to wear off and Pavel became much more aware of the blood and semen trickling between his thighs as he walked and the pain that came from within when the first vampire took him this night. He doubted Hikaru would be too content with seeing him like this but it wasn’t as if the Russian boy could help it. All he could do was clean himself up and dress once more in the dancer’s clothes before making his way up to Lord Spock’s room. The Elder, through the second tug on the chain, had requested his presence after he was released, in the man’s private quarters. He hoped, whatever this was about was far from punishment. He thought he had given a good enough show today.
The second guard opened the door to his cell though he didn’t let the teenager pass without comment and if Chekov had been unused to such things, he would have been further ashamed than he was. The drug from earlier, though, was still in his system, working to keep him calm and under control. The door was closed behind him and grey eyes looked forward into the dimly lit cell to see that Hikaru Sulu was indeed here. The Asian looked up from the bed he had been taking a nap in when the door closed and practically jumped to his feet at the sight of his old friend. The anger and worry the young teenager saw in the other’s eyes was enough to make his knees buckle beneath him. He was caught but just barely.
“Damn it,” Hikaru said angrily, just loud enough to be heard in the small room, “they drugged you again didn’t they? Those bastards. Don’t they know the difference between real and dubious consent?” The teenager was dragged to the bed of straw where he was carefully lain on his stomach and his fellow slave gently cleaned up his skin and torn inner body as best he could. The young Russian didn’t even gasp at the slight sting of the other’s touch to his wounds though his hands did tighten their hold on the straw momentarily. “I do hope you’re done for the night.”
“Nyet. Lord Spock vanted to see me,” Pavel answered after a few moments, his voice soft and breathy as it always was when he spoke under the drug’s influence. A tap on his back by a warm hand told him the other was done so he got to his feet slowly before slipping on the shorts once more and very carefully working on the fingerless gloves. “I do not know vhy zough. Eef vas not as eef I did bad performance tonight.” He would have known for sure if he had performed badly.
Even with most of his sober attention on fixing the gloves properly he could sense the other man standing very close to him. Getting one glove on, he looked up, only to find himself caught by the other in a sweet, gentle kiss that held in it all the love and affection the touches from earlier had been missing. He leaned into the kiss, grey eyes falling closed and he wrapped his arms around his true lover while the kiss itself deepened. This was what he needed; the warmth of another human body and the affection that came with it. Not the cold of an undead body.
After a long moment, the two of them parted, their lips lingering against one another’s as they took deep breaths of each other’s air. Hikaru’s strong hand carded through his soft curls, relaxing him, soothing away the uneasiness he somehow just instinctively knew the younger human felt. “Shhhh it’s going to be alright,” he said softly, leaning up to press another kiss, this time to Pavel’s forehead, “I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what happens.” The words, Chekov knew, were promises that couldn’t be kept, vows that had far too many variables to be guarantees but they were just what he needed to hear.
He nodded and kissed his older, Asian lover once more, softly, taking a deep breath afterwards. There was a very real chance that he would not be coming back to this cell. Lord Spock could very well kill him tonight for any reason, good or not, though he was well known for being very methodical, very logical when it came to such things. The Elder did not kill without reason though his reasons, more often than not, only he knew about. Still, the chances of him being killed were about the same as his chances of being simply reprimanded for something or praised for his skill with the other vampires by spending the night in the Elder‘s bed; not that that was much of a prize either.
“I lowe you,” he whispered, taking in the handsome face, the beautifully dark almond eyes and olive skin unblemished in any way, “I vill alvays lowe you.” He forced himself to let the other man go and step back. He couldn’t let himself cry. The drug was losing it’s effect even more so now, the linger touches of the fog simply brushing his mind instead of clouding the path from thought to words and actions. To cry would be to ruin his make up and he didn’t have time to repair it.
Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the cell the way he came, head bowed and eyes on the ground, heading towards the doorway that would lead to the Elder’s private chambers. He knew that’s where Lord Spock would be waiting for him. At least, he thought, he could tend to the oldest vampire mostly sober. He needed to keep his wits about him while dealing with such a logical, almost cruel creature.
The climb up to Spock’s chamber was not all that different from the climb down the stairs to the dungeons though he had to admit to himself it was better lit. The corridor itself was much more narrow but all that meant to the slave of the Elder was that he had less room to stumble and fall in. His hands brushed the cleaned stone as he walked, keeping his balance as he took one step at a time, working on sealing away his thoughts of Hikaru as he went, letting the familiar clink of his dancer’s belt and chains rattle as he made his way down the damp corridor. The cold drafts made him shiver but they were less common in this much smaller passage that was so rarely used by comparison.
At the end of the hallway, a plain wooden door waited slightly ajar, an invitation for him to step inside. He had only visited Spock’s chambers once in his seven years here but he remembered the room as clearly as it had been yesterday, even now. He knew that the walls would be painted to represent the dunes of the Egyptian desert and that the ceiling would be blue to match the perfect blue skies of that particular day of the desert. The floor would have soft, pale carpet the same color as the sands and sitting in one corner would be the master’s mediation materials and mats that were not to be disturbed under any circumstances. The bed would be centered in the room, the white sheets allowing it the warmth of the day while the entire room would be lit by a single bright light that acted as the sun in the false landscape. The room itself would he hot, well over forty degrees Celsius, but the Elder’s people had always been desert dwellers and found anything less too cold. Why it was that Lord Spock had moved to the middle of nowhere in Russia then, no one was sure but it hardly mattered.
Stepping into the room now, Pavel made sure to close to door carefully behind him and stand just in front of it, his arms folded across his lean chest as he had always been instructed to do while his eyes searched for his master. The light was on so the man couldn’t have left all that long ago if he wasn’t here. Perhaps the vampire had already chosen a lover for the night and had gone to bathe before the allowed the other to step into his chamber? While it was a rare occurrence, having never once happened while he was here, the Russian had heard that once every seven years the Elder had to take on a lover for an entire week. Usually these lovers didn’t survive for very long beyond the week’s end though the stories always said it was because Lord Spock drained the very soul from the body he made love to for so long while he also drank the victim’s blood.
Tonight, though the young slave doubted he had to worry about that. He was here because the Elder had sensed something in him that that he wanted to correct. Why else would he have been forced to deal with the sexual desires of three vampires before he was granted to reprieve of cleaning himself up and granted a private audience -or at least he had interpreted it as such- with the man? Once this was done he could go back to his cell, back into his beloved’s arms and pretend this night had never happened.
“Pavel Andreievich Chekov,” Lord Spock’s soft, almost monotonous voice free of any sort of emotion as he stepped out from the bathroom the slave hadn’t even noticed was there. The door melded so well into one of the walls it had been nearly invisible. He was dressed not in the semi-formal black suit and shirt from earlier but rather in the long black robes of his people that made him look all the more tall and stern looking. Pavel stayed where he was, following the creature with his eyes only. “Are you aware of why you have been summoned tonight?”
“Nyet sir,” he said, unable to break the habit of using his native words for simple answers, words he was pretty sure most people would know anyway, “I can only make a guess based on vhat I hawe heard from ze ozers.” He resisted the urge to fidget as the lord drew nearer with eerie grace, a long hand coming out to caress his cheek like it had earlier. Lord Spock had never hurt him directly, at least not physically. In that sense he was a good owner.
The hand that pressed against his skin was colder than the hand of most vampires and he shivered as it swept down along his jaw line to brush his neck. Without the influence of the drugs, the mortal was able to keep himself from making a sound though his grey eyes lowered almost immediately to try and keep the other from seeing his slight fear at the touch. Seeing the fear and sensing it were two different things and he knew the Elder could sense it. The vampire was a touch telepath in the purest sense. There was no reason why he should let the vampire see his fear too.
The Elder shifted, his hand coming up to tilt his head back, as if to get a better look. Pavel forced himself to look up into dark brown eyes, the iris itself having touches of the blood red typical of vampires showing through. Was it his imagination or was there a touch of sadness in those usually unexpressive eyes? He remembered something about the master being a half breed, half human and half of his own kind, not truly accepted by either. Perhaps that was why, once he was turned, he came out here to middle of nowhere Russia? The slave bit his tongue lightly to refocus his attention on the present. He did not want to get punished for his straying attention on top of whatever else he had done.
“Pavel, do you know why you were captured and brought here seven years ago?”
The human’s hands clenched in the grip he had them in. He fought back an angry reply, answering instead “Nyet master,” in a stronger, steadier tone than most in his position would have used. Sadness flickered across Spock’s eyes again, though it was only momentarily. How such a stoic man could be so expressive, the slave did not know.
“When I first moved to this country, many centuries ago, I was fascinated by the pale skin, odd language and exotic hair colors and styles. I had ordered my vassals to find for me the most beautiful men and women in the land to serve me here, so I could study them, so long as these people were not missed.” There was a gentler quality to the touch now, almost regret. “I never intended for my people to steal children such as yourself from your loving parents to be brought here and used so brutally.”
Pavel waited a long moment, waiting to see if the Elder had anything to add before he asked “Zen vhy keep me here? Treat me een zis manner?”
“Because with each day that passed, you just grew more and more beautiful. As illogical as it sounds, I grew possessive and couldn’t bear to let you go.” The Elder’s second arm came up to wrap itself around the human’s back, drawing him closer. “I needed to learn what it was about you that made you so appealing to me.”
“And hawe you come to a conclusion?”
“Indeed I have.” The vampire’s hand shifted to touch the lean face, fingers taking an odd positioning against his temple and cheekbone on one side. “Despite all I put you through for so long, you still haven’t broken.”
The slave swallowed thickly. That could mean any number of things. So he said nothing. He stood still and waited patiently for the Elder’s next move. As long as time stayed still, as long as they didn’t move from this spot, from where they were standing right now, there would be no pain. There would be no violence, no bloodshed so long as they stayed still.
Lord Spock sighed and leaned down, resting his cold nose against the human slave’s curls that rested against his forehead. “I am almost ashamed of the pain I made you endure for my own pleasure. I could not resist the urge to see you like you were tonight, even in the arms of another.” Pavel didn’t miss the “almost” of the statement but he did feel his blood freeze. Shit. He knew what this was about now.
He wanted to plead with his master, wanted to ask that he be spared and allowed to go back to his cell, back to the dirty rags in the cold dungeon with Hikaru Sulu’s arms around him to keep him warm while he slept. He wanted to beg for someone else, anyone else, to take his place in this. As gentle as Lord Spock was right now, if things were going to go the way Chekov thought they were heading, the gentleness wouldn’t last. These kind hands would become rough and the fangs of the Elder would shred open his neck in the heat of passion. Yet, he said nothing. How could he say anything? It was not his place to protest. He had learned long ago that protests always led to even worse suffering than the pain he was already going to know.
So he let Lord Spock kiss his forehead and let him go, only to take the center of his golden chains and lead him to the massive bed in the center of it, the white sheets deceptively pure and innocent looking. Pavel trembled at the thought of his blood staining those pure sheets just as his soul was stained further. The half-breed stopped him and leaned in, gently kissing him softly. “I am sorry,” he whispered quietly into the kiss, “I am sorry but this is what must be. I had to test you tonight. I had to see if your body could handle what I had plans for without forcing anything upon you.” The slave almost choked on his laughter. His body may have complied but his soul didn’t.
The Elder took him to the bed, where the slave knew he wouldn’t get be getting up from any more than necessary in the days to come. He wished he had been born ugly instead of being cursed by beauty.
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PART TWO: HAUNTED