Drabbles: Coldfire (G to soft R, slash)

[winter]

I should have known better than to offer drabbles to a fic-starved fandom with so many plotbunniers on my f-list, really :) In order of appearance, for alighiera, alice_montrose, fuumasfrog and trobadora.

WORKAROUNDS

Ever since Mount Shaitan, Gerald had been learning to appreciate the simple pleasures in life. For example, at the moment he was lying sprawled across Damien’s broad chest, idly toying with the ex-priest’s shirt and watching the dazed look in Damien’s eyes. Even the cramped quarters only meant that he had an excuse to climb just that close, and Damien had to put an arm around his waist.

Presently, Damien blinked, his eyes turning clearer. “Are we on a ship-“

Gerald leaned in and kissed Damien again until the other man’s eyes were glazed over once more, the guarded question turning into a drawn-out moan before it could be fully phrased.

If he had known getting Damien to enjoy ship travel would be that easy, he would have tried this method ages ago.

-FIN-



SO THE WORLD WILL NEVER FIND YOU

Damien sighed as he pushed through the crowd, taking another drink from a flask of liquor someone had pressed into his hand. At least in the black mask and cloak, even if he did make a fool of himself at the Jaggonath carnival, no-one would be able to tell him apart from every other guy dressed up as a vampire. And a few real vampires, he had no doubt.

He wondered what Gerald would wear. The adept had been reticent about his plans, only setting the meeting place on the outskirts of the city-

Near Karril’s temple, he realised as a woman flung herself into his arms. She was wearing a version of a First Landing uniform, though he was sure the real colonists never had ones that tight.

She kissed him on the mouth. “Praise Karril,” she whispered. “A man is waiting for you, two alleys down. An... urgent matter.”

She laughed shrilly, and as she flung her neck back he saw the imprint of teeth. Not quite Gerald’s type, he thought, too strong, but then he wasn’t Gerald’s usual type either.

He stumbled through the throng of people, found the alley, leaned against a door that opened to rapidly for him to do anything but fall through it to the floor.

A chapel of the Church, he realised as he looked around blearily. Closed down temporarily, with a pagan festival roaring through the streets. Yet there were candles burning, and a fresh cloth on the altar.

Something – someone – moving, and he raised his head as he struggled to his feet.

Layers of silk obscuring limbs and body, so that he could no longer recall their past or present look. A broad collar of beaten gold with a pattern of flames. Dark hair instead of light brown, but oh, never mistaken, and now he remembered too clearly.

“I remember you felt particularly strongly about that dream.” Even the old mocking cadences were back in Tarrant’s voice. “You will enjoy this better than you would have the masquerade.”

Strong hands pushed Damien against the altar before he could think of fear, revulsion, desire, sacrilege.

“Don’t worry,” the man who had been the Hunter whispered in his ear as clothes were quickly, deftly pushed aside. “I won’t let you think.”

-FIN-




PETTY ANNOYANCES

Damien moved his wrists experimentally. The cuffs were far snugger than it should be possible for something lined with fur.

“Gerald, this is vulking ridiculous,” he muttered.

The former Hunter shook his head as he surveyed his handiwork. “You have a habit of tearing buttons off my shirts. I’m running out of outfits, and the shops here are not up to my standards. Therefore, you’ll be chained until I undress myself.”

“Only until then?” Damien asked hopefully.

Gerald’s smile was sweetness itself as he ran a hand down Damien’s bare chest. “Perhaps a few minutes longer than that.”

-FIN-




PROOF OF FAITH

The bracelet was tarnished silver, a streak of near-black on the red velvet lining the box set on the street stall. Gerald’s fingers closed in on it without hesitation. Damien raised his eyebrows, but remained silent as Gerald ruthlessly argued down the price.

He got his answer when they left the street fair and Gerald tenderly wiped the grime and tarnish off a fragile piece of glass. Underneath it was the face of a clock, too small to ever house the appropriate mechanism.

“A watch used to be an important theological analogy, Vryce. As the watch with its complexity proves the existence of a watchmaker, so the world proves the existence of its creator.”

Under Gerald’s touch, a tiny screw turned without resistance.

Tick.

-FIN-

Comments

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

I'm closer and closer to the opinion that Sarah and Dawn will get along like a house on fire. The Sarah in my head is charmingly straightforward and more than a little manipulative. Kind of like Cordelia, really.

Re: Faith, VK should realise that's one lady who will never learn or want to learn manners :> That should cool him off quickly enough...

Herbert's unchaining is in progress

*pokes*

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Finishing off the Illyria/Vittorio scene first, because I don't like leaving a scene half-finished :)

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

Pah. You said unchaining was in progress :P

Any snipplets will be appreciated. Had to pause for a family quarrel, but am a quarter of the way done with the prequel already. BTW, does it have a title?

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Unchaining technically is, sorta... kinda. Dawn's on her way.


And scene for the immortal and demon:

“In this festering cesspool,” Illyria’s voice was a monotone. “I do not believe better is a choice. I have seen people fight for this emotion, this love, and many of them do not deserve all they have. Why should you deserve or not deserve? If you want it, then you keep it. If not, then you destroy it.” Her expression was distasteful. “It is such a weakness, emotion.”

Vittorio looked up at her, sudden revelation on his face. “It is,” he said softly, “But it is what makes us strong as well. It is what makes us stand, what makes us fight when we know we should lie down and give up.”

“Folly,” Illyria maintained.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But it can be so much more as well.” He curled his hand, a swirl of light spiralling above his fingertips, his eyes apparently reading something in the flare of light that the demon could not see. “It can be everything you need.”

Blue eyes gazed at him. “You revel in this humanity,” she observed.

“I do,” Brown eyes met hers. “Thank you.”

“Your gratitude has no cause.”

Vittorio smiled for the first time in days. “Oh, it has, nobile Illyria,” he murmured, rising from his seat and bowing deeply to her. “Your presence and wisdom have been most illuminating and I thank you.”

The demon blinked at him. “You are... welcome?” it offered.

That only made Vittorio smile more.

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

Goodie :) I assume Vitto's back in gear and well and truly kicked? It came out great, subtle enough, and yet all the right points driven home.

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

He was doing the mojo to see where Buffy is and plans to pounce on her, lavish her with affection and whisk her off somewhere without warning ;D

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

I think Dawn might appreciate that ;)

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Scowling at the canopy, Herbert tugged at the right cuff again.

It was pointless, a futile gesture, he knew. After all, these were his own toys and chains and if he didn’t know they were in good condition, enough to secure the most energetic lover, then what kind of owner would he have been.

No one had been able to break out of them, not in a hundred years, not even his dear treacherous William when he came prepared with a lock-pick and his remarkably flexible little body.

He had to admit, however, that William had come close with some clever acrobatics and a balancing act that had him somehow dangling from the canopy by his knees, the lock-pick in his mouth.

Alas that his ankles and arms were all bound, ensuring he could barely even wriggle without the cuffs pulling tightly.

Sighing dramatically, he glared at the drapes, plotting bloody and wicked revenge on his dear, devoted and wretched boy.

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

Oh dear. I can almost see the steam rising from Herbert's ears here :D

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

The squeal of the hinges alerted him to a presence, the scent of which certainly wasn’t William. No doubt, his lover had intended to leave him, as promised, until he had recovered.

Perhaps it was for his own good, but without some gesture of affection or at least a lascivious sexual act to keep him going, he feared he would remain quite furious at William for some time.

“Oh... my... God...”

With a muffled groan, Herbert looked towards the open door. “What do you want, cherie?” he sighed.

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

:D

Dawn didn't pick up on the chains innuendo, did she?

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

She suspected, but now, since she's here, she's more delighted by the fact she can have her revenge on him for what he did to her when she was sick :D

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

Spike won't hear the end of this for weeks, will he?

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

From either of them :D

Herbert is fuming (although William will make it up to him in all kinds of nice and lascivious ways) and Dawn is grinning and laughing at his death threats :D

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

Just hope VK's gone and stocked up on the painkillers :>

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Dawn stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, approaching the bed with a slow tread and an extremely broad, wicked grin. “Taste of your own medicine time, huh, Herbert?” she said, her hands on her hips.

“Oh, do shut up,” he muttered glowering at her.

“Hey, you want me to do unto you?” His expression suggested that he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “You remember when I had flu, you gagged me and tried to gimme soup?”

“Darling, if you try such a thing, I will rip you apart,” he said calmly, but there was an underlying growl in his words.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, the mortal smirked at him. “You know, if this had been a few weeks ago, I might have believed you.” She glanced at the bandages, her expression turning a little more serious. “You really are hurt, huh?”

Staring impotently at the ceiling, Herbert scowled. “That damned idiot thought I would run off again,” he muttered.

“If I told you my sister and your dad were alone in the same room, wouldn’t you?”

Grey eyes darted to her. “They... what?”

“They’re ‘talking’,” the girl replied, making air-quotes with her fingers. She got up and went to the end of the bed. “Buffy wants me to go home. Again. Your dad isn’t exactly happy about it.”

“One would imagine not...”

“You promise not to go charging off to the rescue and get yourself blown up again?”

The vampire nodded. “I can barely sit upright at the moment,” he replied with disarming honesty. “And I trust William to keep his word about what he would do to me if I tried to do such a thing.”

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

Poor Herbert must be a little confused at the moment :) Though he's probably more familiar with his father's manipulative ways, and more trusting in a positive outcome.

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

He really is slightly boggled, though he did expect father would do the reasonable/rational thing to put the Slayer off-guard :D Plus, now, Dawn's come to him for siblingy-type advice without Spike's bias.

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

That little family does have the strangest dynamics, doesn't it? But Herbert's probably more suited to playing the reasonable big brother than Spike is, at least when advice is concerned...

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

It's especially since she's wanting guidance/advice about how to deal with Buffy and she knows what Spike's record is like there.

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

At the moment Herbert's isn't too stellar either, though for different reasons.

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Undoing the cuff at one ankle, then the other, deliberately ignoring the blatant nudity on display in front of her, Dawn leaned against the edge of the bed for a moment. “I don’t know if she meant it,” she said suddenly, looking at the cuff in her hand.

“Meant what, cherie?” Herbert brought his legs back together from their spread-eagled position, rubbing his chafed ankles together.

“She...” Blue eyes looked down at him, confusion and a dozen uncertain emotions visible. “She said she missed having me at home... but I don’t know if she meant it or if she just wanted me out of here...”

Herbert forgot his own discomfort for a moment, staring at her. “Your sister,” he announce with unnecessary savageness. “Is a manipulative bitch.”

Re: *is evil*

[winter]

I guess at least he left out psychotic this time ;)

Beta done and returned!

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

Got and editing now :D

Re: *is evil*

[fyrie.livejournal.com]

“Herbert,” Dawn approached the head of the bed and undid the cuff on his right wrist with remarkable ease for someone not armed with his key. There was a glimmer of metal in her hand. “So are you.”

A faint grin tripped across his lips. “You make a good point, cherie,” he said as she leaned over him to undo his other wrist. “but I would not use emotional blackmail to keep a lover in my bed.”

“Nope,” she agreed. “But you’ve got handcuffs instead.”