FIC: Elementals, PG-12, Vorador/Janos
Elementals
By Emerald Embers
Louise_cmi_vc@hotmail.com
Rated PG-12 for nudity, yaoi and mild violence
Fandom: Legacy of Kain
Pairing: Vorador/Janos
Non-profit fanfiction, please don’t sue.
The water was hot when Janos first stepped in, too hot for most, and the contrast of it with the relatively cool air above the springs caused him to shiver as he sank in. Normally he would go long lengths without bathing as it was unnecessary and an indulgence, a fact reflected in the strange animals that came to bask in its warmth. When he did opt to bathe it was usually to seek relief from the onslaught of Uschtenheim’s near-permanent winter, but bad blood had left him violently ill for over a week and his muscles needed the rest. Keeping his wings out of the water was a frustration he could have done without, but if Vorador was willing, he could get some assistance with grooming them soon enough.
Janos brought his hands to his face, hiding a wry smirk. Thinking of the devil seemed enough to make him come, nevermind speaking, if the disturbance he sensed in the air was as he expected it to be. The essence seemed different from a usual transportation, but Vorador was the first of his kind to learn what ancients had been familiar with for centuries, so perhaps it was not so unusual.
Footsteps padded through the snow with a confidence Janos knew only one man to possess, a walk that told the ground beneath him resistance would be met with crushing force. He smiled at that, imagining slugs picking up their slimy underskirts and scurrying out of Vorador’s way with arachnid speed.
“The steam will burn you,” Janos warned as the footsteps neared, turned enough to register Vorador sitting down on a not too distant rock. His audience remained silent though, which somehow made the experience more surreal and weighed him down with a heavy sense of intimacy. Vorador’s curse made him unable to bathe anymore, tear streaks of pink raw flesh still visible from when he last ventured out in the rain. Thank God they had discovered the curse through rain though - had Vorador gone for a swim he would not have returned. Strange how the quencher of fire could inflict such pain on his fledgling.
“What brought you here?” Janos asked as he rubbed his shoulders, trying to shift the knots of tissue that had made upper arm movement difficult. As much as he normally enjoyed the presence of his fledgling, he suspected it was only contributing to the tension that had brought him here in the first place.
Vorador didn’t answer at first, his gaze heavy-lidded and tinged with a hunger that the born vampire’s body attempted to reciprocate, so Janos let the question lie and moved on to digging his thumbs into the curve of his lower back. He couldn’t help closing his eyes and frowning, surprised at the level of pain in the area, though it made sense if his kidneys were involved in processing toxins. He’d had bad blood before, but this had been positively rotten, perhaps even cancerous or plagued.
Thoughts drifted so that he was almost caught by surprise when Vorador answered his question, “You.”
Janos tilted his head towards Vorador, taking in the strangeness of his face, the new edge to his features vampirism had given him, and the steady eyes that would be Janos’ undoing if they did not leave him.
“Always you.”
Janos turned away then, unable to bear the staring without washing his face first, seeking balance in the warm water. Traces of something foreign to the water but not unnatural stung at his eyes, but it felt strangely welcome in bringing him back to the present. “You knew I would be naked,” he stated, amused and uncertain whether he felt disappointed in his fledgling for craving intimacy so much he sought it brazenly, or pleased to be so desired. Either way, it seemed quite sinful.
“I knew I would not be able to touch you,” Vorador elaborated, his tone lifting slightly with each word as though the words themselves had weighed heavily upon him. “And it has been a very long time since last you flew.”
Janos began to wash beneath his arms, frowned in confusion at his fledgling’s strange statement. “You enjoy being unable to touch me?”
“If you knew how beautiful you are when you’re untouchable, you would understand.” Vorador stood and walked closer to the spring, settling down on a batch of baked ground nearby. “You’re damn near the only warm thing I can touch without drawing screams.”
Janos flushed and drew his legs up to his waist, not wanting to work himself up when he was as incapable of touching his fledgling as Vorador was of touching the water. Some strange mutual torture this was. “You’ve made me scream before.”
“But not in an instant. I can’t be amongst mortals anymore. They recognise that I’m not one of their own, anymore than I am one of yours.”
Janos looked up, unable to prevent his eyebrows drawing into a concerned frown. Vorador’s eyes reflected his suspicions, suspicions he had not recalled for several months but remembered feeling for some time after he had first made his fledgling. Loneliness. Vorador was not a natural vampire, nor a human. His kind would never be formed in a mother’s womb, and Janos found himself aching to hold out his hands as apology and comfort, hated the water for being so cruel. “Altered or not, you are still precious to me.”
“You have called this a curse. How could a cursed creature be of value?”
Janos regretted, and not for the first time, his occasionally tasteless choice of words. “Your loneliness is beautiful,” he said softly, hoping offence would not be taken.
“Only because it reflects your own,” Vorador replied, surprised when Janos shook his head vehemently.
“You know I find myself tiresome. All I see reflected in you is my curse, and you are far braver than I. You chose your loneliness.”
“And you did not?”
“Prophecies do not tell you everything,” Janos replied, eyes closing against the memories that tried to rise to the surface even though he had forced them away from waking hours into his dreams. “My panic that day was real, as was my surprise.” He shook his head, slid back further towards the middle of the spring. “I still thank God I was at least left you and the Circle.”
“Samael still keeps note of my doings. I think he does not trust me with you.”
“He is a wise man.” Janos’ eyes widened and he covered his mouth against the questionable choice of words before correcting himself. “I meant, he does not trust easily. If you earn his trust, it is well deserved. He has only ever showed me affection because I will not knowingly tell a lie.”
“He likes your voice. He thinks it honest and a pleasure to listen to.” Vorador smiled. “I do not share the expertise of the blind, but I agree with him.”
“If you were blind, would you have come here? Provided you knew where the edges of the spring lay, of course.”
“Yes,” Vorador replied without hesitation. “Hearing would be enough.”
“Perhaps I should blindfold you sometime,” Janos teased before dipping his head below the surface of the water and shaking it, thankful that washing his hair was an easier process these days. He had cut his hair out of anger originally, but it had proven more useful than expected to wear it short, not least because he did not have to tie it back to keep it from obscuring his view. Rising from the water brought him back to reality and Vorador’s gaze, which had turned from appraising into positively carnivorous.
“I would not have expected you to take interest in games,” Vorador said with a tone in his voice that begged a careful response.
“Then I am not yet predictable,” Janos replied, baiting his fledgling with distinct pleasure. “If we are to be immortals, variety should be embraced.”
“Embraced and welcomed,” Vorador confirmed. “When will you be getting out of that damned water?”
Janos smiled evasively but decided against continued teasing. “I have towels back in the aerie. Perhaps you could help me groom there?”
The subtle surge of power followed by his fledgling’s disappearance was unsurprising, given that ever since they first slept together ‘grooming’ had become something of a euphemism. The fact the first time Vorador spent so much attention taking care of his wings ended with them making the bed prove its usefulness was no huge surprise given the intimacy of the act, though sometimes grooming for the sheer sake of grooming could be a pleasure. Vorador’s hands tended towards greediness though, and members of the Circle were well aware that the Reaver guardian was the only one amongst them whereby sleek and glossy wings were the measure of his activities, rather than ruffled feathers.
Janos stood carefully and pulled himself out of the water, lest he accidentally transport a good amount of the liquid with him and soak the aerie’s floor, before gathering energy for transportation towards himself and allowing the magic to carry him to his aerie. After all, Vorador was not a patient man, and the muscle relaxation a decent orgasm provided ought to help ease the last aches out of his joints.
His fledgling wore a towel over one arm, bowing in mocking imitation of a human servant before handing it to Janos, and the Reaver guardian caught himself smiling. For all the differences between them an undisguised affection had risen, unexpected but welcomed. Passing on his curse had not broken it, and as Vorador’s hands took hold of his waist with a possessive grip previous lovers never had, Janos found himself praying silently that nothing ever would.
The End
By Emerald Embers
Louise_cmi_vc@hotmail.com
Rated PG-12 for nudity, yaoi and mild violence
Fandom: Legacy of Kain
Pairing: Vorador/Janos
Non-profit fanfiction, please don’t sue.
The water was hot when Janos first stepped in, too hot for most, and the contrast of it with the relatively cool air above the springs caused him to shiver as he sank in. Normally he would go long lengths without bathing as it was unnecessary and an indulgence, a fact reflected in the strange animals that came to bask in its warmth. When he did opt to bathe it was usually to seek relief from the onslaught of Uschtenheim’s near-permanent winter, but bad blood had left him violently ill for over a week and his muscles needed the rest. Keeping his wings out of the water was a frustration he could have done without, but if Vorador was willing, he could get some assistance with grooming them soon enough.
Janos brought his hands to his face, hiding a wry smirk. Thinking of the devil seemed enough to make him come, nevermind speaking, if the disturbance he sensed in the air was as he expected it to be. The essence seemed different from a usual transportation, but Vorador was the first of his kind to learn what ancients had been familiar with for centuries, so perhaps it was not so unusual.
Footsteps padded through the snow with a confidence Janos knew only one man to possess, a walk that told the ground beneath him resistance would be met with crushing force. He smiled at that, imagining slugs picking up their slimy underskirts and scurrying out of Vorador’s way with arachnid speed.
“The steam will burn you,” Janos warned as the footsteps neared, turned enough to register Vorador sitting down on a not too distant rock. His audience remained silent though, which somehow made the experience more surreal and weighed him down with a heavy sense of intimacy. Vorador’s curse made him unable to bathe anymore, tear streaks of pink raw flesh still visible from when he last ventured out in the rain. Thank God they had discovered the curse through rain though - had Vorador gone for a swim he would not have returned. Strange how the quencher of fire could inflict such pain on his fledgling.
“What brought you here?” Janos asked as he rubbed his shoulders, trying to shift the knots of tissue that had made upper arm movement difficult. As much as he normally enjoyed the presence of his fledgling, he suspected it was only contributing to the tension that had brought him here in the first place.
Vorador didn’t answer at first, his gaze heavy-lidded and tinged with a hunger that the born vampire’s body attempted to reciprocate, so Janos let the question lie and moved on to digging his thumbs into the curve of his lower back. He couldn’t help closing his eyes and frowning, surprised at the level of pain in the area, though it made sense if his kidneys were involved in processing toxins. He’d had bad blood before, but this had been positively rotten, perhaps even cancerous or plagued.
Thoughts drifted so that he was almost caught by surprise when Vorador answered his question, “You.”
Janos tilted his head towards Vorador, taking in the strangeness of his face, the new edge to his features vampirism had given him, and the steady eyes that would be Janos’ undoing if they did not leave him.
“Always you.”
Janos turned away then, unable to bear the staring without washing his face first, seeking balance in the warm water. Traces of something foreign to the water but not unnatural stung at his eyes, but it felt strangely welcome in bringing him back to the present. “You knew I would be naked,” he stated, amused and uncertain whether he felt disappointed in his fledgling for craving intimacy so much he sought it brazenly, or pleased to be so desired. Either way, it seemed quite sinful.
“I knew I would not be able to touch you,” Vorador elaborated, his tone lifting slightly with each word as though the words themselves had weighed heavily upon him. “And it has been a very long time since last you flew.”
Janos began to wash beneath his arms, frowned in confusion at his fledgling’s strange statement. “You enjoy being unable to touch me?”
“If you knew how beautiful you are when you’re untouchable, you would understand.” Vorador stood and walked closer to the spring, settling down on a batch of baked ground nearby. “You’re damn near the only warm thing I can touch without drawing screams.”
Janos flushed and drew his legs up to his waist, not wanting to work himself up when he was as incapable of touching his fledgling as Vorador was of touching the water. Some strange mutual torture this was. “You’ve made me scream before.”
“But not in an instant. I can’t be amongst mortals anymore. They recognise that I’m not one of their own, anymore than I am one of yours.”
Janos looked up, unable to prevent his eyebrows drawing into a concerned frown. Vorador’s eyes reflected his suspicions, suspicions he had not recalled for several months but remembered feeling for some time after he had first made his fledgling. Loneliness. Vorador was not a natural vampire, nor a human. His kind would never be formed in a mother’s womb, and Janos found himself aching to hold out his hands as apology and comfort, hated the water for being so cruel. “Altered or not, you are still precious to me.”
“You have called this a curse. How could a cursed creature be of value?”
Janos regretted, and not for the first time, his occasionally tasteless choice of words. “Your loneliness is beautiful,” he said softly, hoping offence would not be taken.
“Only because it reflects your own,” Vorador replied, surprised when Janos shook his head vehemently.
“You know I find myself tiresome. All I see reflected in you is my curse, and you are far braver than I. You chose your loneliness.”
“And you did not?”
“Prophecies do not tell you everything,” Janos replied, eyes closing against the memories that tried to rise to the surface even though he had forced them away from waking hours into his dreams. “My panic that day was real, as was my surprise.” He shook his head, slid back further towards the middle of the spring. “I still thank God I was at least left you and the Circle.”
“Samael still keeps note of my doings. I think he does not trust me with you.”
“He is a wise man.” Janos’ eyes widened and he covered his mouth against the questionable choice of words before correcting himself. “I meant, he does not trust easily. If you earn his trust, it is well deserved. He has only ever showed me affection because I will not knowingly tell a lie.”
“He likes your voice. He thinks it honest and a pleasure to listen to.” Vorador smiled. “I do not share the expertise of the blind, but I agree with him.”
“If you were blind, would you have come here? Provided you knew where the edges of the spring lay, of course.”
“Yes,” Vorador replied without hesitation. “Hearing would be enough.”
“Perhaps I should blindfold you sometime,” Janos teased before dipping his head below the surface of the water and shaking it, thankful that washing his hair was an easier process these days. He had cut his hair out of anger originally, but it had proven more useful than expected to wear it short, not least because he did not have to tie it back to keep it from obscuring his view. Rising from the water brought him back to reality and Vorador’s gaze, which had turned from appraising into positively carnivorous.
“I would not have expected you to take interest in games,” Vorador said with a tone in his voice that begged a careful response.
“Then I am not yet predictable,” Janos replied, baiting his fledgling with distinct pleasure. “If we are to be immortals, variety should be embraced.”
“Embraced and welcomed,” Vorador confirmed. “When will you be getting out of that damned water?”
Janos smiled evasively but decided against continued teasing. “I have towels back in the aerie. Perhaps you could help me groom there?”
The subtle surge of power followed by his fledgling’s disappearance was unsurprising, given that ever since they first slept together ‘grooming’ had become something of a euphemism. The fact the first time Vorador spent so much attention taking care of his wings ended with them making the bed prove its usefulness was no huge surprise given the intimacy of the act, though sometimes grooming for the sheer sake of grooming could be a pleasure. Vorador’s hands tended towards greediness though, and members of the Circle were well aware that the Reaver guardian was the only one amongst them whereby sleek and glossy wings were the measure of his activities, rather than ruffled feathers.
Janos stood carefully and pulled himself out of the water, lest he accidentally transport a good amount of the liquid with him and soak the aerie’s floor, before gathering energy for transportation towards himself and allowing the magic to carry him to his aerie. After all, Vorador was not a patient man, and the muscle relaxation a decent orgasm provided ought to help ease the last aches out of his joints.
His fledgling wore a towel over one arm, bowing in mocking imitation of a human servant before handing it to Janos, and the Reaver guardian caught himself smiling. For all the differences between them an undisguised affection had risen, unexpected but welcomed. Passing on his curse had not broken it, and as Vorador’s hands took hold of his waist with a possessive grip previous lovers never had, Janos found himself praying silently that nothing ever would.
The End