summer_of_giles | Right Of Claim 3/?

Warnings: See part 1

Chapter 2 – The Patience of a Saint (And the Restraint of a Monster)

“I can lie but the truth isn’t there

I can die but there’s no-one to care”

-Bloodbound – Nosferatu

Closing his eyes he tried to will the world away. It was nearly dawn, and he was beginning to tire, his body having grown adapt to its nocturnal patterns. And it had let him up just after sunset tonight, and hadn’t been since. Not for the first time he wondered what would happen if it was dusted with him still in here. Whether his powers be loosed, or a door would appear somewhere, or what. Maybe he would starve to death, a slow drawn out death.

With his powers he felt certain that getting out of here would have been easy enough, but without them it was impossible.

Well, at least it was something to think about.

He was restless, that’s what it was. He hated being housebound.

A sound startled him, and he spun from his contemplation of the wall to see it standing there. He was almost used to the silent manner in which it came in most of the time these days, although considering the variance from the usual routine tonight; it almost startled him into speaking to it.

“Have a pleasant evening?” It raised an eyebrow and spoke, almost as though it had read his mind.

Giles bit his lip, and turned his back on it.

“Ignoring me isn’t going to change facts,” a warm hand came to rest on the side of his neck and a thumb traced slowly up it. At the though of what had to go towards making this creature feel like a human he found himself tensing.

And he couldn’t take it any longer, this time.

He’d though it would be something in it that snapped, but it was him. He spun, and moving with a turn of speed that seemed to surprise it, managed to land a solid punch to its stomach and another fist to its chin. It shook its head from one side to the other, and then he was back against the wall with his head spinning and white flashing at the edges of his vision. Then the air was rushing past him as he was thrown, and struck the edge of the bed hard enough that he knew there would be a black bruise forming in a few hours. Drawing his lips back from his teeth in a savage snarl, he fought to regain his footing although he wasn’t sure what he was planning on following up with.

That turned out to be something that he needn’t have worried about, as Ethan... it, he hurriedly corrected himself, it, caught him by the hair and drew itself up to full height, dragging the boy with him, until he was forced to stand on the tips of his toes to try and take some of the pain away. The thing held him there, and met his gaze for what felt like an age, before letting go and shoving him back with the other hand. This time he landed squarely on his back, and before he could go to scrabble up again, a deep guttural snarl made him look up. It dared him to try his luck one last time, as its eyes flashed between jet-black and the usual predatory amber.

He didn’t move, didn’t blink for fear of missing his own death. If this was it, then he wanted to meet it with eyes wide open. His heart was racing, and instinct still screamed at him, fight or flight. But he’d tried fighting, and look how well that hadn’t gone down. And there was only so far that a person could run in a closed house.

“I’ve tried being patient with you. I’ve had the patience of a bloody saint, tried to give you time to come to you own conclusions. Tried to give you time to talk yourself around, to let your own power show you where the fact of the matter lays. But no more, I’m through with it.”

He raised a hand and that damned collar which he’d come to despise settled itself around his neck again. There was a little more slack on the chain these days, and he’d found not long into his enforced rest that it gave him enough slack that he could roll over, but a fat lot of use that would be to him now. He felt sick, as the monster took a slow approach, and wondered if he would perhaps be able to throw an arm up in time to keep the thing from his neck. But then, why bother? Even if he could manage it a couple of times, it was still a game that he was bound to lose.

He made his mind up, and dropped his arms back against the bed, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Go ahead and kill me, then. End this stupid game, because I swear to you, dead is the only way that you’ll ever control me.”

“Hmm. And here I thought you understood, Rupert, it’s not your death that I desire,” the thing closed its eyes for a heartbeat, and half-inclined its head in his direction, before opening them again, coming to a halt beside the bed, “mayhap I should have made things clearer, not allowed you the freedom that I have.”

What the hell do you want from me? The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back, falling back on his old habit of ignoring the thing as much as he possibly could. But still, as much as he wanted to close his eyes to shut the thing out again properly, some small shred of self-preservation kept him from doing so. And then the thing settled its knees on the bed over him, and raising hands that were still warm, undid the first button of the shirt that he was wearing, and drew a fingertip against his bare chest underneath. And with a wave of nausea, he understood completely, what this thing was going to try.

Its gaze didn’t flick from his as it undid the rest of the buttons, and went to push his shirt back off of his arms. And at that point his resolve broke once again; but he couldn’t let simply let this happen. Even if he only convinced it to kill him instead, that had to be better then what it had in mind.

“Please, don’t. I’ll… I’ll give you anything else. Just please, not this, show some compassion, some…” he realised what he was about to say, and pulled himself up short, tried to rethink his words, but couldn’t drag his thoughts into order.

And it realised what he had been about to say, too. It chuckled at the dark joke.

“Show some humanity?” It finished for him, pushing his shirt back off of his arms, “You were going to tell me to show some humanity, when you’re so fond of calling me a monster?”

Its right hand reached out and it traced the black mark that it had carved into the flesh of the underside of his arm, just above his elbow, and it gave him a smile that made him wish that he could curl up in himself much the way he’d done in those weeks after the thrashing that he’d been given.

“Please, Ethan, please…” for the first time since he’d been given it he used its name, in a weak attempt at placating it.

“Tell me,” it drew a fingernail down his chest, stopping to graze a nipple, and tease it to hardness, and he cursed his own body for its response, “exactly why a monster should care for the pleas of a human. Tell me why I should care one whit for those empty words echoing from your mouth. In fact, if you ask me I’ve been too human to you already.”

Its hand drew over to the other side of his chest, and Rupert was expecting a repeat performance, but this time the nipple was pinched sharply between two fingernails, sharply enough to draw a gasp from him.

“My mark is on your skin; my blood is in your veins. Your power was a part of mine, ever since it stirred, and believe me, I did feel it stir. I’d have come for you sooner, but you were under guardianship, which you broke of your own accord when you left of your own free will. And, on top of that, you owe me your life, let’s not forget that. You were mine by rights since the day that you came into your own.”

“You do this, and as soon as I get the chance I’ll kill myself. If what you say is true, then that’ll be the end of you, too.”

It raised a hand, and rested two fingers against his temple, before nudging at his power which had been locked down for so long that it felt like sunshine after the six month Antarctic night. The rush that it sent through him, had him squirming and gasping, and he tried to ignore any other effects, tried to rally his power to throw Ethan off, but it hadn’t freed enough of that to allow such a thing. It wasn’t that stupid.

And this time when it smiled, the expression seemed almost soft, “No, you won’t. This…” it drummed its fingers against the side of his head, “this here wouldn’t allow it.”

“Please, just let me go,” he stopped fighting to keep the note of despair from his voice, stoped trying to keep his tone from cracking. Maybe, if he gave the right emotion of submission, without actually…

“You want more freedom, I can do that. All that you need to do is acknowledge me properly, for what I am. Seal the bond, and tie yourself to me, and once the after-effects lessen, you can have your daylight back.”

“Never,” he snarled back. To tie himself to a monster… well, he would never do that. It was that simple.

“Never say never, young one,” it muttered, drawing a hand down lower, to play a hand over his cock through his trousers, still half-hard from the kick of power that he’d just been given.

Accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this, he bit his lip and resolved not to make a sound. He knew enough about the limitations of deep magick to know that he still had a shot at a clean escape if he didn’t acknowledge if the way that it demanded. He was never going to call this thing his master, or his other. There may have been no way out of this part of things, but he’d be damned before he ever tied himself to this thing. And nor was he going to give this thing the satisfaction of knowing that he was scared, or anything else that went in hand with it.

Stupid, since no-one could predict the future, but still, he’d never imagined that things would turn out quite like this when he’d first stolen off into the night. Certainly if he had, he’d never have gone.

He was snapped crudely from his thoughts as Eth… it, he caught himself again, it settled back onto its heels and undid the button on his jeans, and tugged the zip down. Again, he cursed his body as the flood of adrenalin and hormones had his cock standing. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head to the side, away, as his cheeks flushed with a morbid mixture of embarrassment, self-loathing, and whatever else made a male blush.

It didn’t escape its notice either, as it slid itself backwards off the bed, standing so that it could tug his pants off completely. Leaning forward, it rested a hand that was already beginning to cool slowly against his cheek. Against the warmth, it already felt like ice, but he restrained himself from shivering.

Silently, it took a couple of steps closer, offering him a half-smile, and again he reacted on instinct. Grasping the headboard with both hands, he brought both feet together and kicked out with all the power and speed that he could put behind it. And all that it did was grin fully, and catch one leg with each hand, pushing them down against the mattress. He supposed he ought to have been grateful that it didn’t actually seem out to hurt him otherwise it probably would have seriously hurt him right then.

“Nice try,” it said, raising an eyebrow, and changing its grasp of his ankles to one hand, it reached down with the other and grabbed a bottle of whiskey out from the bedside cabinet. If he’d realised that that had been there, then it definitely wouldn’t have lasted long. Still using one hand, it flicked the cap off, and held the bottle down to him.

“Had enough of your fun, now?” it asked, still holding the bottle down.

He thought about grabbing it, raised a hand a few millimetres on the thought of why the hell not, and then hesitated.

“What the hell have you done to it?”

“Think,” it was sounding almost annoyed with him, now, “for once; why would I bother doing anything to it, when anything that I might want, I can simply take from you anyway? And why would I give you anything that would dull you?”

Trick questions, questions that he couldn’t find an answer to.

“It’s a touch of human relaxation, is all that it is; although maybe, again, I’m being too human towards you?” It finished the sentence on a question, and with a raised eyebrow, and he snatched at the bottle before it could be retracted. Damned if he wasn’t going to make sure that he remembered as little of this as possible.

“Thanks,” he spoke to it reluctantly, so that it didn’t snatch it back away again. Although he needn’t have bothered, a few deep drags and he found that the bottle was completely empty. There hadn’t even been enough to set the room spinning temporarily, let alone to blur the night for him.

And only now did it release his ankles, take the empty bottle back, and set it down to the side. It rolled its shoulders back, and stripping its own clothing, tossed both pants and top over to the side. Without a prompt, he flicked his gaze over it, and went cold inside again. All of his self conviction that he’d worked himself up to while finishing off that bottle, his attempt at telling himself that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, fled. It was standing naked in front of him, and reality was finally tearing at him with cold fingers.

It pressed a hand to his shoulder, and nudged him towards flipping over with it. At his hesitation, it gave him that hint of a feral grin again, “It’ll be easier for you, I’m sure. But then… maybe you’re going to exceed my expectations.”

He knew what that meant. And again, it was one of the last things that he wanted. Half-raising his head, to loose the collar as much as possible, he rolled over and settled himself on his hands ands knees, tucking his forehead against the pillow, and sinking his teeth into it. He was still determined that he wouldn’t make a sound throughout, even if that was to be his only victory.

And Ethan’s now cold weight came to rest behind him, and he could feel its cold cock nudging against him. He’d told himself that all he could do was get it over quickly, now, but it seemed that he couldn’t even do that, as it curled a cool hand around his cock, and leaning down grazed it’s teeth against the side of his throat, nudging his power again as it did so. And between all of those contrasting elements; the warmth of his own power flooding him again, the adrenalin at its teeth, and the chill of its hand, he was completely hard again instantly.

And that dark corner in his mind stirred into life, sending a wave of something that he didn’t care to identify through him, too. With that, he found himself wondering for the first time whether its claim of deep magic was actually possible.

It drew the skin of his cock down with its hand, toyed with a nipple as it drew its tongue over the tiny scratch that it had marked on his neck, and then traced a hand down his spine until it came to a pause at the top of his ass. It may not have been taking it’s time with him, but nor was it racing through it, either. If it had been racing it would have already slammed him down and would have been fucking him, he wasn’t that naive that he didn’t know that. And a tiny part of him couldn’t help but feel grateful that while it was forcing him into this, it wasn’t forcing him.

Its fingertip came down a little further, and the nail drifted over the sensitive flesh between his cheeks and at the entrance to his ass. If he hadn’t had his teeth firmly sunk into the pillow then he knew that he would have been breaking his vow to himself. But still, it was only a single fingertip that was drifting over the delicate skin, teasing a few millimetres in and out. And again, he wished that it would hurry up and get it over and done with.

Just as he thought that, as though it had read his mind again, the hand twisted and that cold finger pushed into him up to what felt like the second knuckle. Closing his eyes he whimpered into the pillow, knowing that it would have heard the sound, but taking some small heart from the fact that it didn’t react to the sound.

He ordered himself to breath, and as he finally started taking even breaths through his nose again, another finger slipped in beside the first. This one he managed to take in silence, even as it worked both of those fingers back and forth, easing the tension and loosening the muscles which were trying to clamp tight.

Christ, but it hurts.

And then the movement stopped, as it stilled its hand, and flicked a couple of fingers out from his cock to rub at his balls, in what seemed like an attempt to distract him. The didn’t do much of anything, but the hit that it sent towards his locked magick this time, had him releasing his death bite on the pillow, and giggling as the world spun around him. But still, reality came back again, and all that he knew was those two fingers working back and forth inside of him. But that didn’t matter any more.

In fact, there was little of anything that mattered any more. His brain clung to the fact that for those few moments it actually felt good, although his pride still clung to his determination not to give up a single word. As a third finger joined the other two, the world fell away again for a while, and all the he knew was the sensation of that inside of him, and that it felt right in a way that nothing had before.

The hand that had been playing over his cock had obviously drifted, because it was grasping at his face, and tilting his head to one side for a kiss, tongue slipping between his teeth. A few moments earlier, his only thought would have been whether he could safely bite it off, but all that he did now was push his own tongue up against its. He groaned, and he knew that it had heard it, as he felt it grinning. And then all of those fingers slipped out at the same time, and it nudged against his power again, as it thrust downwards with its hips, and its cock took their place.

“Shit,” he snarled, as his body tightened against the size of it. Damn, but that stung. Again, reality tried to clam him, but something inside him shrugged it off, as it paused and gave his body a chance to adapt. Then, less than a minute later it began to move against him, and in him, a steady rolling of its hips as it set up a slow, drawn rhythm.

His own erection had flagged over the last few minutes, distraction and pain countering the effect of hormones and power. But then, with one hard thrust downwards it hit something inside of him that brought it back, and sent a wash of pleasure through him. And with another couple of rolls of its hips, it stiffened against his back as something cold shot up inside of him, and seconds later, as its hand tightened around him and gave his cock a couple of drawn out pumps, he came too, shooting his load down into its hand, and over the sheets.

He was half expecting it to let him up afterwards, but instead it drew slowly out of him, an act that caused his body to shiver, and came to rest beside him, with an arm draped against his side, and drew the blankets which had been kicked down up over the both of them, and closed it’s eyes. A few minutes later, when he knew that he should have been thinking about getting his own back, the exhaustion of his own body dragged him down to sleep.

Right Of Claim 3/?

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