hannah_chapter1: (Dunecat)
Title: Bad Blood Part VIII
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 15/R
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him." This chapter, Kelly's POV.
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Note: This is my response to the August Fic Challenge. I chose  option 1.  I said I would post the next chapter / part of a fic not updated in 3 months+ and here it is.

1910:

He's coming.

His footsteps, on the stairs, coming down the hall. I'm under the bed with my eyes closed, a hand over my mouth, heart pounding in my chest. Please, please, please ...

The footsteps stop. I open my eyes and I see his shoes. Big shoes, big, blood-spattered shoes. A hand reaches down and grabs the edge of the bed frame. This bed is oak and iron, six men would struggle to lift it - and this stranger picks it up with one hand. He throws it against the wall and I crawl into a corner and begin to pray. He drops to one knee so he can look me in the eye.

"What's your name?"

"... what ..."

His voice is soft, his accent kind of fancy. How can a man who just did ... that ... sound like a gentleman?

"Tell me your name."

"Kelly."

"I'm Christopher."

He touches my cheek.

"I know you're afraid of me, Kelly, but you don't have to be. I won't hurt you."

"You hurt my husband. You ripped him in half!"

"Yes, I did. Do you hate me for it?"

I think about George. His small, piggy eyes, his smell, his cold, clammy hands. Those hands have marked me, so many times and in so many ways. But now it's over. He'll never touch me again. I look into my visitor's eyes.

"No, I don't hate you. But why did you do it? Why did you come here?"

"I've been watching you. I saw the way he treated you. It wasn't right. He did not deserve such beauty."

He offers me his hand.

"Come with me, Kelly. Be my wife. I'll treat you like a queen. I'll give you everything, more than he ever could. More than any man ever could."

I'm reluctant.

"You're no ordinary man. A man couldn't do what you just did. What are you?"

"I'm something else, something very special. You could be special, too.You could be strong and fast, young and beautiful. Forever."

I consider his offer. I don't have to go with him. He's asking, not demanding. But what will happen to me if I stay? Your father will take your money, sell your house and marry you to another smelly old man. A woman can't be trusted with money, property or even her own life.

"If I go with you ... how will we live? Will we settle down and raise a family?"

"No. My kind cannot stay in one place for long, it's too dangerous. As to your other question, the answer, once again, is no. My kind cannot have children. You would never be a mother."

I think it over and he waits for an answer. I take his hand in both of mine and he smiles and stands, bringing me with him. I bite my lip, suddenly afraid.

"Will it hurt?"

He pushes me hair back, exposing my neck.

"Yes. But it will be worth it."

************************************************

I sit back and sigh. I'm so full of blood I can barely move. I've only been a vampire for a few months but it feels like forever. I can't imagine living any other way. Chris - I call him Chris now, Christopher was too cold, too formal - takes his sword out of its sheath and begins to sharpen it.

"Where did you get that?"

"This?" he holds it up, "it was my father's and then it was mine. It should have passed to my son after my death. But I still live and his bones turned to dust long ago."

"Why do you keep it?"

"It's all I have left. My family are all dead, my house pulled down, my lands paved over. This sword is my human life."

I watch the stone sliding along the blade for awhile.

"Where did Tom and Morgan go?"

"They wanted to be alone."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"I really have no idea."

"You are so innocent about certain things, I love it," he puts the sword aside. "you were raised to believe in traditional relationships, man and women, yes?"

"You know I was."

"But it does not have to be that way. Some people prefer their own kind."

"Tom and Morgan are ... " I don't finish my sentence.

"Of course. Did you really think Morgan turned Tom just to please you?"

"I never really thought about it. I just wanted to take Tom away."

"And so we did. Don't worry, Morgan isn't making Tom do anything he doesn't want to."

"Have you ever been ... involved ... with a man, Chris?"

"Yes, I have tried it. Live long enough and you'll try anything."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I enjoyed the novelty of it but, on the whole, I prefer women."

When Morgan and Tom come back they're holding hands. I say nothing about it.


1925:

Who is that?

A body in the middle of the street, a man hunched over it, the scent of freshly spilled blood in the air. But it's not Chris, Tom or Morgan. The stranger's head snaps up at my approach. I see wide, blazing eyes and bloody teeth and then he's on me. He propels me backwards and impales me on spiked railings. I feel his teeth on my neck, trying to break the skin.

"Get off me!"

I shove him away, putting everything I have into it. He flies across the street and hits a wall. I pull myself off the railings.

"Look what you did!" I put a finger through one of the holes in my dress. "I just bought this!"

He stares at me, mouth hanging open.

"You're like me."

"Of course I'm like you! What's wrong with you? Don't you know another vampire when you see one?"

"Vampire?"

His look of honest confusion stops me in my tracks.

"You don't know what you are, do you?"

He shakes his head.

"Come with me, talk to my husband. He'll tell you everything you need to know."

*******************************************

I want to like this new vampire, I do, but I can't. Everything about him irritates me. The way he carries himself, the way he looks at me and, most of all the way each and every one of my questions is answered with a surly grunt. What's wrong with him?

Ever the gentleman, Chris welcomes the stranger and we hear his story. His name is Dominic and he's been on his own for a long time, over fifty years, which might explain his attitude. Chris is having trouble believing it.

"He left you there, with no way of knowing what you were or what you were capable of?"

"That's what I'm telling you. I never even saw his face," he gives Chris a hard stare. "it wasn't you, was it?"

"No. I was still in Europe in 1860 and I would never abandon one of my vampire children. I shouldn't have to tell you this. If I was your maker you would know it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You would feel it, deep down inside, the invisible thread that binds a vampire to their creator and their offspring."

Dominic thinks about that.

"Why did he leave me?"

"I don't know. That's a question only he can answer."

Dominic looks down at the floor, his face closed off and sullen. Chris feels sorry for him, so he tells him everything there is to know about vampires and invites him on a speakeasy raid, the little bit of fun we've been planning for the last week and a half. Dominic shrugs and says he'll tag along.

To the casual observer the building appears empty. But we've been hiding and watching and we know better. There's an after-hours joint in the basement - or, to put it another way, there's a whole heap of drunk people in an underground, soundproof room with only one exit. The fools are just begging to be drained and we're happy to oblige.

Tom takes the man guarding the trapdoor and we go down to the basement. We look at the crowd and while I can't speak for the others, I know my mouth is watering. Chris makes the first move, we follow his lead and the blood begins to flow. Some people try to escape but Tom is at the foot of the ladder and they have nowhere to go.

Like all good times, it's over far too soon. Chris kicks a path through the broken furniture and broken body parts to where Dominic is gutting a bartender foolish enough to pull a gun on him.
 
"Vicious little bastard, aren't you? I like that in a vampire. You would do well in our little family."

The new vampire drops the dead bartender.

"Join you? Why should I?"

"I thought you might appreciate the company of your own kind."

"You thought wrong. I get by just fine on my own. I've been doing it for decades. I don't need you or your pathetic excuse for a family. You can all go straight to Hell."

He climbs out of the basement and, just like that, he's gone.

"Good riddance," I mutter.

Chris laughs.

"You don't like your new friend?"

"No, I don't. Do you?"

"No, I can't say I do."

"Then why ask him to join us?" asks Morgan.

"I don't like him much, but he does interest me."

"Why?" I ask.

"He's survived for so long and he did it all on his own, with no maker to hold his hand and help him through the transformation. He should have burned up in the sun or gone insane with hunger, but he didn't. I didn't think it was possible, but clearly I was wrong. I thought the company of other vampires would be good for him,  help sand off some of those rough edges."

Chris frowns at some blood spatters on his tie.

"It doesn't matter. We'll see him again."

"What makes you think we'll see him again?"

"The world is small, Kelly, smaller than you think. Trust me, we'll see him again."

1961:

"What shall we do tonight, children?" Chris asks, "hunt in a pack or split up?"

Morgan's leaning against the van.

"Is that who I think it is?" he points at a figure walking towards us.

It's been almost ten years since we last laid eyes on him but there's no mistaking that arrogant strut; ladies and gentleman, the one and only Dom Howard, a vampire so vile even his own maker couldn't stay with him. He strides right up to us and sneers.

"Oh look, the circus is in town."

"Hello to you, Dominic," Chris says.

Dom's about to lob another insult when he's distracted by another voice, a soft English accent calling his name. He looks over his shoulder and his sneer becomes a sweet smile as a small, thin man with dark hair walks up to the van. No, not a man, another vampire.

"There you are, I've been looking for you."

There's dried blood at one corner of the new vampire's mouth. Dom licks it off and kisses him, ignoring our wide-eyed stares. The kiss ends and Dom introduces us to Matt.

"Where did you find him?" Chris asks the question on all our lips.

"I made him. He's mine."

Well, that was unexpected.

"You made a new vampire?" Chris gapes at him. "You?"

"Yes, me.  Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. I'm just surpised, that's all."

The new boy, Matt, is looking at us, smiling shyly. I think we might be the only other vampires he's ever seen. He tugs at Dom's sleeve and whispers in his ear. Dom looks at us and sighs.

"Can we join up with you for awhile? Matt wants to be around other vampires."

I don't know what amazes us more: the request, or the fact that Dom managed to form a sentence without a single insult in it. He wasn't quite so polite the last time we met, oh no. That particular encounter ended with harsh words and broken bones, some of them Dom's and some of them Morgan's. Chris is quick to agree. We all want to know more about this baby vampire.

We hunt for awhile, then Chris hears Matt's a musican, so we go to a piano bar. We bribe the manager and he kicks everyone out and lets us take over. We could have just locked the door and killed everyone, but we did that last night. Matt sits at the piano and impresses us all with his skill.

The motel has only one room with two beds left so we pin a large, black cloth over the window and draw straws for the beds. Chris and I get the first, Dom and Matt the second. Morgan and Tom takes some pillows and blankets and make a bed for themselves in the bathroom. Matt curls up on top of Dom with his face against Dom's neck and Dom's arms around him. It's like watching a puppy cuddling with a man-eating tiger. I see it, but I don't quite believe it.

They stay with us for a month and I come to like this new vampire every bit as much as I despise his creator. He's ... sweet, there really is no other word to describe him. He even seems to bring out the best in his maker. Dom's a softer version of himself, even his insults lack their usual sting and the first two weeks pass without incident.

But then, little by little, the old Dom returns, and now all his cruelty is directed at his offspring. Matt ensures the abuse, but not for long. Chris and I return from a hunt just in time to see him storming out. I call after him, but he doesn't look back. We go inside and find Dom, sitting in a pile of smashed furniture, his jaw broken in two places.

"What happened?" I lean down and grab his chin, "what did you do?"

He grunts and rolls his eyes.

"He can't talk through a broken face, Kelly."

"No, I guess he can't."

I let him go, he snaps his jaw back into place and gets up.

"Nothing. He's just acting up again. He used to be content with beating me up, but not anymore. Now he beats me up and runs away. He'll come back. He always does."

"He didn't act up. Do you think we're blind? You drove him away. Why do you have to be such a prick?"

"Mind your own business, you meddling cunt - "

Chris's hand clamps around Dom's throat, choking off his insults. Chris lifts the smaller vampire. Dom's feet kick the air and I hear a crackling sound as the bones in his throat splinter, then break.

"Call my wife a cunt again, Dominic, and I'll break every bone in your body, wait for you to heal, then repeat the process until you've learned some manners. Do you understand?"

Dom makes a choked, pained sound that might be a laugh and raises a fist. His middle finger pops up and Chris snarls and throws him at the wall. Through the wall. Dom lands on the road outside in a tangle of broken limbs. It doesn't slow him down for long. His bones reset, he stands up and sneers at us, the famous Howard sneer.

"Fuck you both."

And then he's gone.

1992:

They come out of the shadows, five tall, skinny guys with knives in their hands and violence in their eyes. They surround us and one of them, the leader I assume, speaks up.

"Nice little suburban couples shouldn't walk through the bad part of town after dark."

My head is pulled back, a blade pressed against my throat.

"Bad things will happen."

"Leave us alone," Matt's voice cracks on the last word and they all laugh.

"Leave us alone, leave us alone," they chant.

Matt raises his fists and the leader looks at his friends.

"Look, the little man thinks he's a fighter."

He squares up to Matt and puffs out his chest.

"Come on, little man. hit me with your best shot."

Matt obliges him. His fist punches through the man's chest. He rips his heart out and crushes it in his fist. I take my attacker's knife away and open his jugular. The others run away, crying and vomiting. We hear their screams and then Chris and Morgan are there, wiping blood from their mouths. Chris frowns.

"I think we missed one."

"No," Tom holds up the last guy's head.

**************************************************

I lie in my husband's arms, staring up at the ceiling. Chris yawns.

"Where are the others?"

"Morgan and Tom are stealing a new van and Matt went for a walk."

"You really like Matt, don't you?"

"I do. But ..."

"What?"

"He's not happy, I can feel it. I wish I knew what to do about it."

"He misses Dom."

"He what?"

"He misses Dom. I know you don't want to hear it, but it's the truth."

"Dom's an abusive bastard."

"And he's Matt's maker and we both know this can't last. We can't keep them apart."

"We could get rid of Dom."

"You want to kill him."

"Yes."

"He's older than you, older and stronger."

"And you're older than him. You could do it."

"I could, but you're forgetting one thing."

"What?"

"Matt. He wouldn't thank us for it. I could kill Dom, then Matt would try and kill me and then I'd have to end him and you don't want that. No, Dom won't die at our hands. He might die at Matt's but I doubt that night will ever come."

"It might. You turned on your maker."

"Yes, but I hated that bitch, right from the beginning. Matt doesn't hate Dom."

**************************************************

Matt's sitting on the roof of a burned out car. I hop up and sit beside him.

"Penny for your thoughts."

He smiles.

"I was just looking at the night."

"It is beautiful."

"But it has its price."

"All good things do. Do you ever miss the day, Matt?"

"No. I see better at night."

Our conversation is interrupted by two frightened boys, they can be any older than sixteen, running past our car. No, being chased past our car by three big men. We jump down and follow. Both boys are on the ground when we get there, huddled together, trying to shield each other from the kicks and punches. Matt wades in, pulling the thugs off and throwing them down beside their victims. The boys stare up at their saviour.

Are you two alright?" Matt's voice full of concern.

"Yes. Thank you. Thank you for helping us."

Matt waves away the praise. He helps the boys up and watches them walk away. He waits until they're out of sight before turning his attention to their attackers.

"Three fully grown men beating up a couple of boys. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

One bully stands and shoves his face right into Matt's.

"Fuck off, Mister Compassion, they were asking for it. You know what we saw them doing? You know what we saw those faggots doing?"

And these are the last words he ever says. We finish them off and Matt walks back to the burned car and sits on the roof again. I think about leaving him alone, then shrug and sit beside him again.

"Are you alright, Matt?"

"Hmm?" he glances over at me. "I'm fine. That just stirred up some memories."

"Of the night you were turned?"

He laughs but there's no joy in the sound.

"Oh yes. That night, and other nights without such happy endings."

"1950s England wasn't a good place for a homosexual man, was it?"

"No. It wasn't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He doesn't answer and the silence soon becomes uncomfortable. I get up to leave and then he speaks.

"I was a teacher, did I ever tell you that?"

I sit.

"No, no you didn't."

"Well, I was. Music and English. There was a boy in one of my classes, malignant little bastard, every teacher's worst nightmare. He lived for trouble. And when he saw me kissing another man ..."

"He told everyone."

"Worse than that. He told his parents I tried to rape him."

"He didn't."

"He did. I lost my job, His father beat me up. His uncles beat me up. I was cursed and spat on when I walked down the street and then someone tried to burn my house down. I took all the money I had and used it to get out of England. I thought things would be better over here, but - well, you know how that story ends."

"I do. Matt?"

"What?"

"Why do you stay with Dom?"

"He saved me. He made me."

"He treats you like shit."

"I know."

"And you go back to him, every time."

"I know it's not right, but I can't help myself. I love him, need him, can't survive without him."

He puts a hand over his eyes.

"I'm pathetic."

"Don't say that, don't ever say that. It's not true."

I put my arms around him and he rests his cheek on my shoulder. I hold him and give him what little comfort I can, but it's not enough. It's not my embrace he longs for.

"Get your hands off my woman!"

Chris stands beside the car, hands on his hips, a look of mock outrage on his face. We laugh, shaken out of our dark mood. I let Matt go and he jumps down.

"Believe me, Chris, you have nothing to worry about. I wouldn't know which end is up."

Chris gives Matt's neck an affectionate squeeze.

"Let's get under cover, children. The sun will be up soon."

**************************************************

The door opens and I glance up from my book. My hands rip the cheap paperback right in half when Dom walks in. He smiles at me and I lose control. I jump off the bed and I slap him and I go right on slapping him until his face is wet with blood.I've been itching to do this for years. He grabs my wrists, stopping me mid-blow.

"That's enough."

I pull away and sit on the bed.

"Go away, Dom. Please, just go away. Leave us alone."

"I want to see Matt. I'm not leaving until I do."

"Can't you find something else to kick around? Get a dog or something. Let Matt enjoy his life."

"I don't like dogs, they taste awful."

Dom sits on the other bed.

"It must be nice, to be so perfect, to sit on your throne and look down on everyone else."

"What are you talking about?"

"You, Kelly, I'm talking about you and the things you've done. Not the whole killing your family thing, from what I've heard, they had it coming."

I roll my eyes.

"Is this the part where you tell me about your abusive father and we bond?"

"No. I never knew my father. My mother was a whore."

"You really can't say anything good about anyone, can you? Not even your own mother."

"I wasn't insulting her, I was stating a fact. My mother was a prostitute. And before you ask, no, I didn't hate her. She was a good mother, as good as a woman in her line of work could be, and I loved her."

"Oh."

I don't quite know how to respond to that.

"But we're not talking about me, we're talking about you. Killing the man who abused you and the the people who let it happen, I can understand that. But feeding your cousin, a scared, fourteen-year-old boy, to a vampire, now that I can't understand."

"Tom wanted to come with us!"

"Did he? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you can rest easy?"

"Shut up! You weren't there, you don't know how it was. What gives you the right to judge me?"

"What gives you the right to judge me?"

"It's not the same and you know it. Matt deserves better than you."

We stand and face each other.

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't hate myself for the things I do to him?"

"Then why do them? Why can't you just stop?"

"I can't. I don't how to stop."

Hinges creak as Matt comes in. He sees Dom and his eyes light up and I know it's over. Matt turns to me.

"Could you give us a moment, Kelly?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. I prowl the streets, looking for something to take my anger out on and finding nothing. When I get to the motel I can see them, standing by the window. Dom opens his arms, Matt hesitates, then steps into his maker's embrace. Dom holds him tight and I can see his mouth moving. I don't hear the words, but Matt closes his eyes and smiles. Now he's happy. But for how long?

They come outside, Matt hugs me and they link hands and walk away.

Together.


hannah_chapter1: (Dunecat)
Title: Bad Blood Part VIII

Author: hannah_chapter

Pairing: Belldom

Rating: 15/R

Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him." This chapter, Matt's POV.

Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......

Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.

Chris and Morgan have disappeared into the night but Dom is still glaring at the spot where their van was.

"What did that asshole want?"

"Chris? He just wanted to say hello."

"And?"

"He thinks you're a terrible maker and he says I should have killed you years ago."

"Like it's any of his business, like he's so fucking pefect."

I sigh. And things were going so well.  I try and distract him, hoping to trick him out of his bad mood.

"You going to bitch all night, old man?"

Dom's head snaps around and he actually stamps his foot.

"I'm not old!"

"You're a hundred and eighty."

"Yeah, but ..." he trails off and I tease him some more.

"You sound like one too," my voice changes as I slide into a bad imitation of his accent, "you kids today, you don't know how lucky you are. Why, we didn't even have flushing toilets when I was a boy, no sir, we had to dig a hole when we wanted to shit..."

My pathetic attempt at an American accent never fails. He gigles and throws an arm around my shoulders and I know the crisis has passed. We trawl the bars, looking for a piano and get lucky in the fifth one. The bartender looks at me like I've got two heads when I ask to use the piano. He fetches the manager. They have a whispered conversation - which I can hear every word of, by the way - and sneak quick looks at me as they talk. I don't get it. I asked about the piano and they're acting like I asked if I could take a shit on the bar or something. Then Dom steps in and turns on the charm and he can be a charming bastard when he wants to. The fifty dollar bill he slips into the manager's hand seals the deal.

Sitting on the stool I flip up the lid and caress the keys. I warm up, running through some scales. This piano's been tuned recently and that makes the manager's reluctance to let me use it even more confusing. Why bother to keep an instrument in such good condition if you're not going to use it? I'm aware, as I play the first song, of loud murmers from some of the customers. But I plough on and, as I do, they calm down. I get a decent round of applause when I finish and some people call out for more. I'm happy to oblige.

Dom leans against the wall beside the piano, eyes half-closed as he listens. He does love to listen, but not half as much as I love to play. There was a time when music, not blood was my obsession. It was the only bright spot in my life in the bad old days, when I was bullied and miserable and struggling to come to terms with my homosexuality. When I sat at my piano none of it mattered. I still love music and I just don't get to play as often as I'd like. I work in bars sometimes but moving around so much makes it difficult. Times have changed and there just isn't as much demand for piano players - not ones that have no ID, no permanent residence and never age at any rate.

I play for a couple of hours and get some nice tips. But then the trouble starts. A man in a business suit, drunk out of his skull, stumbles in. I can hear him over the piano, jeering at me and my "faggot music." Hmm, obviously not a lover of jazz. Ignoring the protests of the other patrons, he snatches a shot glass from one of the tables and throws it at me. Dom steps forward and plucks it out of the air. I keep playing as the bartender throws the drunk out. I hear something crack and, when I look at Dom, his eyes are blazing and blood is dripping from his clenched fist. He slips out of the bar - no prizes for guessing what he's up to.

I finish up and leave, ignoring the people calling for more and waving away all offers of a drink. I find Dom in the next street. Most of the streetlights have been broken but the moon is out and that's more than enough. Ah, the joys of excellent night vision. Mr. Drunk Businessman is lying on his back, arms and legs twisted off at odd angles. Dom is sitting on the man's chest, amusing himself by breaking fingers.

"This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed at home, this little piggy needs to learn some fucking manners..."

"Enjoying youself?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

He bounces to his feet.

"Here, I saved him for you."

"You're too kind."

I grab the man's tie and pull him up. He shrieks as my teeth tear at the flesh of his neck. Then the blood begins to flow and his screams choke off into pained gurgles as I drink his life. When I'm done I let him drop to the ground and we go through his pockets. I take the money in his wallet and Dom gets his Rolex. We link hands as we walk away and I feel something sharp digging into my palm.

"Wait a minute."

We stop and I tug at the shard of glass still stuck in the palm of Dom's hand. The skin around it has closed up so I have to brace myself against a nearby wall to pull it free. We're almost home when Dom stops and points.

"See what I see?"

The fake vampire from earlier is stumbling along, head down and hair hanging in his face. He's alone, his girlfriends must have gone home. I roll my eyes.

"I've had enough for one night. I'll see you at home."

He passes me the keys, not taking his eyes off his new meal for even a second. Back in the room we've rented, I lie on the bed and flip through channels, finally landing on a late night showing of The Maltese Falcon. The door opens and closes and I hear something rattle.

"You've got blood on you," Dom says.

He's got what looks like a whole mouthful of teeth in his hands and he shakes them again, making them rattle. I sniff.

"So do you."

He crushes the teeth to powder and joins me on the bed. We cuddle up together and watch the movie. I wish it could always be like this. The Maltese Falcon ends and Dom switches the set off. I didn't want to mention the Gideon thing earlier, but a bit of torture and murder always puts Dom in a good mood, so now is as good a time as any. He makes a face when I tell him about the meeting.

"What makes you think I want to hear anything he has to say?"

I turn in his arms and run my hand over his chest.

"Please, Dom. For me?"

"You're not a child, Matt. You can go without me."

"I know, but I don't want to."

"You know what he says about me."

"I know, and I know what he says about me."

Gideon is obsessed with bloodlines, so it's safe to say he thinks little of Dom and even less of me. The bastard without a maker and the stray he picked out of the gutter, that's what he calls us.

"Then why do you want to go to this thing?"

"I just do."

He stares at the ceiling and I pull his t-shirt up and kiss his chest and stomach.

"Come on, Dom," I murmer between kisses, "do it for me?"

"Oh, alright."

****************************************************************************************************

I check the paper Chris gave me again, thinking I might have the wrong address. No, this is the place, even if it is the last place I'd expect to find a vampire meeting.

"Jesus, look at this," Dom says, "Gideon's moved to the suburbs."

And he has. We're standing in front of a neat little house on a quiet, leafy street. A vampire in the suburbs: what is the world coming to? We go around to the back, find an open door and walk into a kitchen full of vampires. Some of them are strangers to me. The ones I do know grimace and turn away. Dom didn't meet another vampire for decades but, once he did, he found them almost everywhere he went. And, Dom being Dom, he made a point of offending every single one. And that's why Chris and his family are the only other vampires I'm on friendly terms with. Here comes Kelly now, with Chris in tow. She squeals and throws her arms around me.

"Matt! I don't believe it. How long's it been?"

"Too long."

Dom hovers at my elbow and I know he wants to pull me away from Kelly but doesn't quite dare. For all of Chris' size and strength, Kelly's the one Dom steps carefully around. They lock eyes for a few seconds, then Dom slinks off to a corner of the kitchen and Kelly turns back to me.

"How are things between you?"

"Good."

"Good for now, you mean."

I shrug, uncomfortable.

"Yeah well, you know how it is."

"I do," she lowers her voice, "you don't have to stay with him, you know. You can always come back to us. We'd love to have you."

"I'll think about it."

And I will. I've stayed with them before, a few months here and there and they're good company. But I never quite fit. Kelly has Chris and Tom has Morgan and I'm always the odd man out. But if - when - Dom and I split again, it would be nice to have somewhere to go.

Kelly gives my forehead a quick kiss and leaves the kitchen without so much as a glance at Chris, which is unusual. He watches her go and he seems restless, nervous even, not his usual calm self at all.

"Is everything alright, Chris?"

"Not really. Kelly's not speaking to me."

"What's the problem?"

"Children, what else? Kelly wants to turn a child."

"But you won't let her."

"No I won't, and she knows why. This is no life for a child."

"What about Tom?"

"He was fourteen, almost a man. I still wasn't happy about it, but Morgan had taken a shine to him and Kelly begged me and I let them have their way. But I won't let her have a child."

"And if she turns one anyway?"

"I'll destroy it. I told her all this before I turned her. She knew we could never have children."

I don't know what to say. He's right, of course: turning a child, locking someone into one of those tiny bodies for decades or even centuries, that takes a special kind of cruelty. Even Dom would think that was going to far. But I understand Kelly's position, too. Chris told her they could never have children and she heard the words but she didn't understand them. How could she? She was still human then. It takes at least a couple of decades as a vampire to fully grasp the idea of immortality and all the awful implications of words like always and never. The first time Dom told me he'd never let me go, I thought it was romantic. Now it sounds like a curse.

"Things will work out, Chris, you'll see."

That was pathetic, but it was the best I could do. I'm not really in a position to give anyone relationship advice.

"I hope so."

I follow Chris into the living room and find the rest of his family: Morgan, born in France to English parents in 1843, turned in New Orleans in 1870. A poet and painter, he ran wild in Paris, indulging in all the fashionable vices of the time - opium, absinthe, sex with teenage boys - and affecting world weary disdain for everyone and everything. He came to Louisana in search of new and exciting experiences and got a lot more than he bargained for.

And then there's Tom, the eternal teenager. That innocent, smiling face is the last thing a lot of teenage girls and paedophiles ever see. He bounds over to me, waving a taser.

"Hey Matt. Want a quick buzz?"

"No, that's alright," I back away.

"Come on, it's fun."

"Fun? What else do you do for fun, slam your dick in car doors?"

He giggles.

"Have you ever actually been tasered, Matt?"

"Yes."

It's not an experience I'd care to repeat. It's funny: I've been shot in the face, practically cut in half by a shotgun and stabbed more times than I can remember and I've shrugged it all off. But a few volts of electricity can put me on the ground and keep me there.

Dom is suddenly at my side again and we watch Gideon walk into the room, all the kitchen vampires following behind. Dear God, he's wearing a suit. He's got a house in the suburbs and he's wearing a suit. Gideon, like Chris, tends to be a bit vague about his age and origins. But while Chris will let the occasional fascinating detail slip - from what I've gathered, he was a knight back in the days when that was more than just an empty title and may have fought for the Lancasters in the Wars of the Roses - Gideon stays vague, which leads me to believe he's nowhere as old as he would like other vampires to think he is.

He stands in the middle of the room and clears his throat.

"You all know why I've called you here."

"You're having a housewarming party?" I offer. He doesn't look at me but his voice climbs an octave.

"Children shouldn't interrupt their elders and betters, not unless they want to kiss the sun."

It happens in the blink of an eye. Gideon is standing in the middle of the room and then he's on his back with Dom's boot on his throat.

"Threaten him again," Dom purrs, "threaten him in front of me again and you'll be the one getting a suntan. Understand?"

Gideon mumbles something and Dom lets him up. He straightens his suit as Dom comes back to me. Gideon sneers at me.

"You wouldn't be so damn smug if you didn't have him behind you!"

"But he does and he always will," says Dom.

Dom wraps his arms around me from behind and licks my neck. Gideon's lip curls in disgust and I smile and lean back into Dom's embrace.

"Daddy," I simper, trying to sound as effeminate as I can, "you're so powerful."

Gideon turns his back on us. "Fucking perverts, they make me sick."

An angry murmer runs through the crowd. Morgan puts a protective arm around Tom and, looking around the room, I see quite a few same-sex couples. Gideon is quick to change the subject.

"We need rules. We need a council."

He drones on about rules of conduct and his plans to find all the vampires in the country and bring them together. I don't think it can be done but I think I've had more than enough attention tonight. Gideon finishes his little speech and a female vampire I don't know steps forward.

"What's the point of all this? Why would we want to do any of this? And who needs rules, anyway?" she asks.

Gideon is taken aback. "Don't you understand? If we get organised, if we combine out strength, we can take this world."

Morgan yawns. "Oh please, not this 'vampires are the superior race' shit again"

"But we are the superior race," Gideon insists, "this world is ours."

"No," Dom joins the conversation, "the night is ours. It's not the same thing."

Gideon won't be swayed. "We should be crushing humans under our feet, not hiding in the dark. Humans are our meat."

"They're smart little fuckers, that's what they are," says Dom, "and they're so very good at killing, better than us. They come up with new weapons all the time. We've got the night but they've got the night and the day. They'd take the fight to us, they'd find our hiding places and burn us out of them. Don't think we'd be safe at night, either. They've got napalm and flamethrowers and other nasty toys. We wouldn't stand a chance."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Gideon says but it's too late. The crowd has lost interest and a few vampires are already heading for the door. Dom lets go of me and walks over to Gideon.

"Give it up, Gideon, it's an impossible dream. Who wants to rule the world anyway? Where's the fun in that?"

Dom joins the vampires streaming out the door and Chris stands up.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I agree with Dom."

He brushes past Gideon on his way to the door and the other vampire grabs his elbow.

"How can you agree with him? You don't even like him! Please Chris, this can work, you must see that."

Chis pulls away from him.

"See? I'll tell you what I see. I see a self-important little shit who just loves the idea of people bowing to him. Well, let me tell you something, Gideon. I've knelt before kings, real kings, and I will never kneel before you."

Chris walks away, delivering a parting shot over his shoulder:

"One more thing. I may not like Dominic, but my dislike of him is nothing compared to the contempt I have for you. Remember that."

Tom waves at me and Kelly blows me a kiss as they leave. I can't think of a good exit line, so I just walk away and look for Dom. He's sitting on a car at the end of the street.

"That was a waste of time," he says.

"It was."

"Then why did you insist on coming to this stupid meeting?"

I smile and take his hand.

"Because after just a few minutes with Gideon, you don't seem so bad."
hannah_chapter1: (Cassidy)
Title: Bad Blood Part VII
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him." This chapter, Dom's POV.
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence. Gore.


Well he said he'd show you his bed
And the delights of the chemical smile
So in your broken home he broke all your bones
Now you're taking it time after time

Oh it turns you on, on, now he has gone
Oh what turns you on, on, now your animal's gone?

Suede - "Animal Nitrate"


1960:

The lights are on and I'm sitting on a bed with my back against the wall. That's not right. I always sleep with the lights off, newspaper taped over any windows and my head under the blankets. What did I do last night? Then the bed shifts under me, even though I didn't move and now I remember: I'm not alone. A small man with dark hair and torn clothes is sleeping next to me. I finally did it, I went and made myself a little baby vampire. Now, why did I do such a stupid thing?

I love bullies. I just love taking those overconfident bastards and breaking them right in two. I love the way they waltz over to me, so full of themselves. And I really love the look in their eyes when I show them how it feels to be the helpless one. This one guy, he had the biggest hands I've ever seen and he wore rings with stones in them, just so he could fuck up people's faces when he punched them. I still have one of his rings. A night where I get my hands on a bully or two is a good night for me. The victims? Leave them to die or kill them myself.

But not this one. He was dying, I could smell it. Something inside was broken and he wouldn't have lasted an hour. I could have left him there, but I didn't. Jesus, I'm going soft. What's next, rescuing puppies? Okay, I made him, now what do I do with him? Kill him, says a voice inside my head. He's just been made, he doesn't know anything, it would be easy.

He moves closer and buries his face in my stomach. We fell asleep like this. As I stroke his hair my eyes are drawn to the bathroom door, which is hanging by one hinge. He did that this morning, when he went to clean himself up. It sent him into a panic and he flailed around, screaming at me, wanting to know what I'd done to him. I had to calm him down before he wrecked the room or someone called the cops and that's how we ended up in this position, with me rubbing his back and telling him everything was fine.

Looking at the door, I know two things: I can't kill him and I can't abandon him, the way I was abandoned. Okay, I took to this life and quicker than most - killing never bothered me - but that doesn't mean I couldn't have used a helping hand in those early days. I was turned in 1860, remember, I didn't know what I was and I had so many questions. Why did I need blood? Why did the sun hurt? How did I stay young and heal so fast? But there was no one to ask, no one to give a name to my condition. Shit, I didn't see another vampire until 1925, when I met Chris Wolstenholme and his freak family. What a pain in the ass that man is - an arrogant prick who thinks he deserves respect just because he's gone through a few centuries without doing anything interesting enough to get him killed.

I feel him stirring, I think he might be awake. He is. He's looking up at me with those sweet blue eyes. Matthew, the piano player from the bar. I went to listen to him a few times and he doesn't know this, but I almost had him last week. He was drunk, on his way home, he didn't even see me. I recognised him at the last minute, so I let him go. What can I say, I like music and good musicians have nothing to fear from me. I smile down at him and he smiles back.

"How do you feel?"

"Hungry."

Of course he is, he's just a baby. I bite my wrist, open a cut and offer it to him. He latches on and drinks. I close my eyes and drift away as he feeds, drinking and drinking and -

Too much! He's taking too much!

Just in time I pull my wrist away, fall sideways, then turn onto my back. So weak, can barely move. He licks his lips clean and crawls up my body, kissing my neck and face.

"I love you."

Love? Me? Nobody loves me. I'd laugh, but one look at his face tells me he's serious. And I think I could love him too. Is that why I saved him? Do I finally need someone, after all these years alone? Maybe. But I know I'll fuck it up, because that's just the way I am. He loves me now - but he'll hate me soon.

*****************************************************************************************

Let's get one thing straight: I'm not a good guy. I don't have a hidden heart of gold and I'm not misunderstood. I'm just an asshole. I was a bastard when I was a man and I'm an even bigger bastard now I'm a vampire. I've always been this way. You know those WANTED posters you see in old Westerns? I had one of those. A big one with MURDER printed on it. Bad boy, outlaw. That might sound romantic but trust me, it wasn't. For every outlaw lucky enough to get songs written about them and movies made about them there were two dozen like me. Complete shits, living short and violent lives before dying alone and being dumped in a hole somewhere. That's the way I should have gone, would have gone if a vampire hadn't stepped in. Still don't know why he did it, it's not like he stuck around to explain. I never even saw his face - well, come on, I was drunk and damn near dead. Vampires are always connected to their makers and the ones they make, Chris told me that and it's true. Matt and I can always find each other, all we have to do is concentrate hard enough. But when I look for my maker I get nothing. It's like talking into a dead phone. I don't care, I don't need him. I don't need any other vampire. They could all burn up in the sun tomorrow and I wouldn't care. Okay, that's not the whole truth, I do need one vampire. I'll always need Matt.

Ah, Matt. God help me, I love him but I treat him like shit. Some of what I've done, I guess I could call it tough love. This is a rough life and delicate little flowers don't survive. He had to toughen up and he had to learn to kill. I couldn't carry him forever, he was draining the life out of me and  I had to kill twice as many people when I was feeding him - like a pregnant woman, I was eating for two. I know, I should have handled it better. Asshole, remember.

He might not believe this, but I do love him. I'll never make another vampire. One female vampire, fickle bitch, she makes a new lover every six months or so. Then she gets sick of them, destroys them and makes another one. I feel sorry for the poor saps: so much for the immortality she promises them. But Matt's the only one for me. He brings out the best in me, too bad it never lasts. I'm soon back to my usual shitty behaviour. But Matt's a tough little fucker, in his own way. He has to be, to put up with me. Fifty years together and I haven't broken him - but I've come close:

1985:

Hmm. Last time I was in a jail cell, I still wore spurs on my boots. They're cleaner than they used to be, they don't smell of cow shit anymore. I lie on my back with my hands behind my head. The guy in the next cell is a real pain, he won't shut up. On and on he goes, about all the people he's fucked up and all the ways he'll fuck me up if he gets his hands on me.

"Hey, hey you. Know what'll happen if I lay a hand on you? Huh? Know what'll happen?"

"I'll get a hard on, that's what'll happen."

He spits through the bars. "Faggot."

I wipe my cheek and ignore him. I check my watch again. It's getting late, where the fuck is he? Then someone upstairs starts to scream. The guy in the other cell jumps off his bunk. "What was that?"

"Sounds like my lawyer just got here. I think I just made bail."

A gunshot, the sound of glass breaking and another scream. He stares at the ceiling with wide eyes. "That's a lawyer? Sounds like an animal got loose."

"He always gets pissed off when he has to do paperwork."

Alright, enough fucking around. Time to get out of here. I hop off my bunk and tear the cell door off with one hand. The guy in the next cell sees this and he flattens himself against the wall, as far away from me as he can get. I wink at him.

"Hey, guess what? Tonight's your lucky night."

I rip his door off and stand back. He runs out of the cell, doesn't look back. So much for fucking me up. I follow him up and he's just standing there, blocking up the doorway. He turns away, trying to go back down to the cells. I grab him by the neck and drag him back into the room. He's crying now, looking at all the bodies on the floor.

"Please, what do you want from me?"

"Just another couple of minutes of your time, about the same duration as the rest of your life."

I turn my attention back to Matt as he tears the place apart. I feel a throb of pride. My little boy's growing up. Just one deputy left and, somehow, the man's kept his cool. Holding his gun in both hands, he fires at Matt and the bullet hits home, tearing away half of his face. Matt falls and the deputy lowers the gun. Big mistake: Matt jumps up, grabs the man's wrist and pulls the arm right off. It's too much for my new friend. He pukes all over his own shoes. Just look at that! Disgusting. I shake him.

"Look at you, you're fucking pathetic. I don't get much pleasure from killing guys like you." I snap his neck. "But I get enough."

I drop him and kick my way through the mess. My foot hits something: a pair of mirrored sunglasses. I put them on and check my reflection in a piece of broken glass. Oh yes, these are definitely me. Matt punches me in the back of the head and they fly off. I turn.

"That hurt."

He spits in my face. Why is everyone spitting at me tonight?

"What was that for?"

His eyes narrow. "What do you think? Look at all this!"

"It's your mess. I didn't do this."

"No? You let them arrest you and then you just sat here."

"You didn't have to come for me."

"But you knew I would. You knew I couldn't leave you here. Why did you make me do this?"

"To see if you could." I look around. "And you did so well. I'm so proud of you."

I stroke his cheek and he slaps my hand away. "Get away from me."

Matt turns his back on me. I put my hand on his shoulder. "C'mon Matt, don't be like this."

He spins around and grabs me. "Don't touch me. Don't you ever touch me again. It's over. We're through."

He twists my head right around so I'm looking at my own ass and then he throws me through the last unbroken window. By the time I've snapped my neck back into place and pulled all the glass out of my face, he's gone. I think I might have really fucked up this time. Never mind, he'll come back, he always does. Okay, time to clean up. This place has to burn.

***************************************************************************************************

I stretch my legs. It's been a good night. I love places like this, these tourist towns. This town is full of bars, the bars are full of people and the people are full of alcohol. Food everywhere I look, giggling and falling over. Someone knocks on the door. It's about fucking time. Eight months away, that's a new record. I open the door and Matt falls into my arms. I bring him inside, kick the door closed and carry him to the bed. I've never seen him looking so bad. His clothes are torn and muddy and he's shaking. My fault, all my fault. Why am I such a prick?

"Matt, look at me." His eyes roll toward me. "Oh, Matt, when did you last feed?"

His voice is dull and lifeless. "Don't remember. Please, Dom, I need...."

I pull him to me and offer him my throat. "Take what you need."

He tears into my throat and starts to feed. I let him do it, even when I feel myself getting weak I don't stop him. Let him drain me dry, I don't care. He can have it. He can have it all. But then he stops. We lie together for awhile. When I'm sure my legs will support me I take him into the bathroom and clean him up. Then I bring him back to bed and make love to him, taking it slow, trying to show him I'm sorry, trying to show him how much I love him. When it's over he lies with his back to me. I stroke the back of his neck.

"You know I love you more than the world."

"Then why do you do these things to me?" He turns to face me. "Why can't you leave me alone, Dom? Why can't you just love me and leave me alone?"

"I don't know."

I don't know.
hannah_chapter1: (Severen)
Title: Bad Blood Part VI
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him." This chapter, Dom's POV.
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence. Gore.


Colorado, 1860:

The bed is full of blood. The bed is full of blood and I'm dying. Don't care. I reach for the bottle on the table and knock it to the floor. I'm already drunk so I don't really care about that either. I pull my shirt away from the hole in my stomach and take a look. Jesus, what a mess. I stick my finger in, it hurts like hell but I do it anyway. He got me good, but at least I took him with me. I smile at the memory, the look on his face when I stuck the gun in his eye, just before I blew his brains out. No great loss, he wasn't using 'em anyway.

Won't last much longer but I keep the gun close, just in case. I won't let them take me. Will they kill me here, or will they take the time to patch me up and throw a rope around my neck? It doesn't matter, I won't give them the satisfaction. I'll shoot the first man that comes through the door and, if I miss, I'll blow my own damn head off, just for spite.

I fall asleep and, when I wake, the lantern has burned down to almost nothing and the room is full of shadows. I turn my head and see a dark shape, the outline of a man, standing beside the bed. Don't know who it is and I don't care. I lift the gun, have to use both hands, it's so damn heavy, and pull the trigger twice. The shape moves; the gun is slapped away and a hand grabs the front of my shirt, dragging me up. No strength left to fight, so I do the only thing I can think of: I clear my throat and spit a mouthful of blood right at him. I hear a wet smack and I know I hit the mark. He laughs and runs his free hand through my hair.

"Wild little thing, aren't you? Too bad you're dying."

Yeah, it's a crying shame, but people die every day, so why don't you leave me to bleed in peace?

"I could help you. I could make you better. Do you want that? Do you want to see what it really means to be wild?"

I make a strange choking sound, the closest I can get to a laugh. Why not? What have I got to lose?

"Show me."

He drops me back on the bed. I feel pain in my neck and the world turns red, then black.

I wake up under the bed. How did I get down here? And how am I still alive? I slip my hand inside my shirt and frown. The hole in my stomach is gone, the skin feels smooth. It's like it never happened. Need to get a better look at this. I pull myself out and up and go to the window. I pull the curtain aside and scream as the sun hits me. It feels like my whole body is on fire and, when I look at my hands, the skin there is burning, turning black. I drop to my hands and knees and crawl back under the bed. As soon as I'm out of the sun the flames go out and the pain begins to fade away. But, even in this dim light, I can see smoke rising from my hands. What's happening to me?

I spend the day under the bed, not wanting to move. When the sun finally goes down I crawl out slowly. But there's no pain, no burning. I'm safe in the dark. My hand hits the bottle, on the floor since last night. I pick it up and put it to my lips, praying it didn't all spill out. I need a drink, need it bad. I'm lucky, still a little bit left. The liquor fills my mouth, my stomach clenches and I cough and spit it all back out. My hand tightens on the bottle and it shatters in my hand. I crawl into the corner and curl into a ball, arms wrapped around my knees, waiting for this dream to end.

I sit in the dark for hours. I'm so, so hungry, but I don't want to leave this room. I'm afraid - for the first time in my life, I'm afraid. I don't know what to do. I hear footsteps, the door opens and a man comes in, holding a lantern in his hand. I know him; I don't know his name, but I know his face and I know who sent him. One man? That's all they sent? I'm insulted. He sees me and his face breaks into a broad smile. He sets the lantern on the floor and pulls me to my feet.

"I'm supposed to bring you back so we can hang you. Waste of a good rope, I reckon. I've got a better idea."

He pulls a long knife from his belt, slashes it across my throat and I fall to my knees. His smile fades, he looks at his blade, then back at me. I put my hand to my throat. The cut is healing all by itself. I stand and he backs up, dropping the knife. He tries to say something but I don't give him a chance. Hit me, I hit back. I shove him and he skids across the room, head smacking off the wall. I knock something over but I pay it no mind as I pull him up. Blood is dripping from his head. I can smell it and it smells so, so good. I lick it - delicious. Want more, need more. Instinct takes over, I pull his head back and tear at his throat.

I fall into a trance as I drink. Heat and the crackle of flames bring me out of it. It was the lantern, that's what I hit and now the room's on fire. I can't get to the door, which means there's only one way out. I drop the body, go to the window and throw myself though it. Instead of landing in a heap and breaking all my bones, I drop and land on my feet, just like a cat. I take one last look at the burning room above me, then I start to run.

"Hey Charlie, did you miss me? I missed you."

He throws the cup he's cleaning at me but misses. "Why aren't you dead yet? What does it take?"

"More than you can give. I killed your man, by the way. I wanted to bring the head back to you, a trophy for you to put on the wall behind the bar, but I didn't get a chance."

I stretch and crack my neck. Two nights since I woke up under that bed, two nights spent testing myself, learning what I can do. Now I feel ready for anything. And I've got some scores to settle.

Charlie spits on the floor. "Laugh while you can. You're a bigger fool than I thought, coming back here. Gus, break this son of a bitch's head. And his legs. Then we'll take what's left of him outside and string it up."

Gus gets up and lumbers over to me. He takes a swing at me and I catch his fist in my hand and squeeze. I feel the bones snapping and grinding together and he shrieks and falls on his knees. I let him go and kick him right across the room. Someone smashes a bottle across the back of my hand. Dirty fighter. I turn, grab him and rip his throat out. Charlie and the few remaining customers are backed up behind the bar, I'm blocking the only way out. Charlie brings up a shotgun and lets go with both barrels, hitting me in the chest. He gapes in disbelief when it just knocks me back a step. He drops the gun.

"What are you?"

I don't know, but one thing's for sure: I'm learning what it really means to be wild.



hannah_chapter1: (Cassidy)
Title: Bad Blood Part V
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence.


"Pretentious little shit."

"He's probably thinking exactly the same thing about you."

"Yeah? He's better keep that to himself. One word from him, just one, I'll bite his face off."

We're in a place called Transilvania, a horror-themed club. Dom saw it first and he just had to come in and have a look, he wouldn't stop until I gave in. Now we're here and he hates it. I'm not wild about it myself. It's a bit over the top, all dark colours, red wine served in fancy glasses, stills from things like The Wolfman and Night of the Living Dead on the walls. Do zombies and werewolves exist? I have no idea. They might, vampires exist, so why not? But I've never seen either one and, as far as I can tell, no vampire ever has.

Vampires seem to be the dominant theme here, funnily enough; pictures of Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee are everywhere and almost everyone in the place has fake fangs, really long nails, a silver bat necklace, some crap like that. All of which means Dom and I stick out like sore thumbs - especially Dom. Tight jeans, leopard print t-shirt and mirrored sunglasses which he refuses to take off, it's hard to imagine anyone less likely to fit the vampire stereotype.

So here we sit, drinking vodka, surrounded by people pretending to be vampires. Well, I say drinking vodka, what we're actually doing is tossing the shots over our shoulders. Real food and drink is poison to us, so we have to pretend to drink. We've been doing this for so long now, we can flick the alcohol away without anyone noticing.

Take the guy sitting in the booth across from us, the one Dom's taken issue with. He's been watching us all night but hasn't picked up on that at all. Now he's really into the vampire image, or what he thinks is the vampire image, all leather clothes, silk shirts and silver rings. But it's all the extra touches that really make it. The long, obviously fake nails, contact lenses that make his eyes look red and a nice set of pointy canines worn over his real teeth. He's got three women with him, they must be his vampire brides or something, they're all drinking red wine and glaring at us. They obviously think we don't belong here although, technically, we have more right to be here than they do. Still, it's funny, fake vampires looking down on real ones.

Our head vampire gets sick of giving us dirty looks and decides to put on a show. He takes a razor blade from his pocket and holds it up, making sure we can see it. Ooh, cutting himself, how daring. Anyone can cut themselves. Now, if he went to donate blood and looked at that huge needle they use without fainting, I might be impressed. He cuts into his wrist and the smell hits us like a slap in the face. I feel my nostrils flaring and, when I look at Dom, I see his are doing the same. This idiot doesn't know it, but he's a lucky man - we both ate before we came in. He lets some blood drip into his wine and passes it to one of his girls.

"This is pathetic." Dom takes off his glasses and  looks around. "We could drain this place dry and it wouldn't be much of a loss. What are we doing here?"

"This was your idea."

"It was a stupid idea. Let's go somewhere else."

"Where?"

He looks at me, his expression softens and he takes my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles.

"Let's find a place with a piano. I've missed that."

"Really?"

"Really. You know I love to listen to you play. I always have."

He kisses the corner of my mouth. The little vampire gang are staring at us again, mouths open in shock. Dom glares at them, daring them to make something of it. They look away, which is just as well for them. It's not that Dom is a passionate believer in gay rights or anything, more a believer in doing what he wants, when he wants - and God help anyone stupid enough to get in his way.

Dom gets up. "I'll meet you outside."

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. I just want to fix my hair."

Him and his bloody hair. I'm about to say something smart when "Bela Lugosi's Dead " begins to play and I start pushing my way through the crowd, heading for the door. I really, really hate that song. It reminds me of The Hunger, a boring waste of celloid and two hours of my life I'll never get back. Why do people get so worked up about that lesbian sex scene? I watched it and all I could see was curtains blowing in the wind.

I'm standing on the curb with my hands in my pockets, waiting for Dom, when I see a van heading my way. It stops beside me, the door flies open and a hand grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me inside. The door slams and the van takes off.

A familiar shape looms over me. "Matt! Haven't seen you in awhile. How've you been?"

I pull myself into a sitting position. "Hi, Chris."

Chris is the oldest vampire I know. I don't know how old he really is, he tends to be a bit coy about that, but I know he was active when Henry VIII was on the throne. He came to America in 1900 and made himself a family. They're still together, over a century later.

"Still living out of a van, then?"

"It suits us. We like the image."

"Right, looking like a shit A-Team never gets old."

Chris ignores the insult, just like he always does. Morgan's in the driving seat, ignoring me, but I don't see the others.

"Where are Kelly and Tom?"

Kelly is Chris's wife, they've been together since 1910. She was already married but Chris wasn't about to let a small detail like that get in his way. He paid them a visit one night, killed Kelly's husband in front of her and asked her to join him. She jumped at the chance; her husband was twenty years older than her and a bit too free with his fists, she wasn't sorry to see him go. She didn't even want to marry him, her father pretty much sold her to pay a debt. So Chris turned her, forced a priest to marry them and then they went to see her family. Her cousin Tom was the only one that ever tried to help her. They took him with them. The rest of her family weren't so lucky.

"They're around, we'll be meeting up with them later. So you're back with Dom, then?"

"How did you know that? How did you even know we were in this city?"

"Oh, come on. You always get back together. Always. And I heard something on the local news, a double murder. The night manager of a building was found with his throat torn out, but that's nothing compared to what happened to one of the tennants. The phrase 'inhuman cruelty' was used. They're looking for the man renting the room next door, a guy called James Bell."

Chris frowns and I defend myself. "What? I had to give a name. Was I supposed to use my real one?"

"No, but using your middle name and a bit of your last name isn't very clever. Why not get creative and call yourself something like Dusty Rhodes, you know, have fun with it."

"What about Sandy Beach? Or Beverly Hills? Or Bulge Temptingly? That creative enough for you?"

"You think you're funny, don't you?" Morgan decides to join the conversation.

"I try not to fly in the face of public opinion."

Chris stops the fight before it can begin. "Play nice, children. Anyway, that's how I knew you were here, but I'm guessing Dom's the one that decided to play with his food. But we all have our little moments, I know I do."

He smiles and rubs his knee. "I remember all that fun I had in Whitechapel back in 1888. I had to cut and run with the first few, not enough time. But that last one, that Kelly girl, I danced all night with her."

"I really don't need to hear this, Chris."

"Oh come on, we're all friends here, no need to keep secrets. It's not like your hands are clean. I seem to remember something about an incident in a sheriff's office. You went through the place like a tiny vampire terminator, or so Dom told me."

I keep quiet, I don't want to talk about that night, or even think about it.

"Pushed you into it, did he? I don't understand you, Matt. I wouldn't put up with this. I would have killed him by now."

"I couldn't do that."

"Of course you could. Do you still drink from him?"

"Sometimes."

"There you go, then. Drain him until he's too weak to move, then set him on fire. It's easy."

"But he saved my life."

"And you've repaid that debt, a million times over. One year with him would be enough, let alone fifty."

"I still can't do it."

"Why, because he's your maker? That's never stopped anyone. I killed my maker. Morgan killed his. Dom would do the same if he got the chance, which is probably why nobody's ever claimed him."

"I don't care, I'll never do it. I love him."

"Well, there's no accounting for taste, I suppose."

Chris crawls into the front seat and I hear him moving stuff around. He crawls back and gives me a piece of paper.

"Almost forgot, we ran into Gideon. He wants to have a meeting."

"Is it that stupid vampire council idea again?"

"Probably."

"Are you going?"

"I suppose so. I know it's ridiculous, but it keeps him happy. The details are on the paper, if you and Dom feel like dropping in. I know Kelly would love to see you."

"I'll ask Dom but I can't make any promises."

"I know." The van stops and Chris opens the door. "I think this is where we picked you up."

We see the blue lights of an ambulance across the street and, as we watch, a stretcher is put inside. Chris looks at me.

"Dom's work?"

I get out of the van and stretch my legs. "He didn't do this."

"How can you tell?"

"If it was Dom, they'd be bringing out bodybags."

"Good point."

Speak of the devil. Dom steps out of the shadows, obviously looking for me. Chris whistles and, when Dom turns his head and sees us, waves at him. Dom sneers and gives him the finger.

"Charming. It was nice seeing you, Matt. We'll talk soon."

They speed off into the night and I walk back to Dom, he still looks really pissed off. I think it's going to be a long night.





hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Bad Blood Part IV
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence.


I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the masochism tango.

Say our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say it's me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the masochism tango.

Tom Lehrer -  "The Masochism Tango."


And there you have it, the story of my birth. Some vampires try to dress it up and talk about being "born into darkness" but that doesn't make it romantic, it just marks them out as pretentious arseholes with a line in really shitty poetry. There was nothing beautiful or romantic about my birth. It was quick and messy: beaten half to death by some thugs in an alley, then saved and turned by a vampire who didn't know what he was doing. I don't even know what he did to me. Did he really kill me and bring me back to life, or did he just infect me with some kind of strange virus?

He changed me, that's all I know. He made me stronger, made me faster. I'll never age and I'll never die. Fire and sunlight are the only things that can kill me, everything else will heal. And, naturally, I have to have blood, which means Dom also turned me into a killer. I don't glory in slaughter the way he does but I'm no innocent. I've probably killed enough people to fill a small city by now.

But I'm not going to sit here and complain about how awful it is to be a vampire, to be so strong and quick and never age. Why complain? I can end it anytime I want; all I have to do is walk out into the sunlight and get myself a tan. The truth is, I like being this way. In human years I'm seventy-six, an old man. But, by vampire standards, I've only just learned how to walk, which means I haven't forgotten everything about being human. That last attack was the worst one, but it wasn't the first. I was a natural target for bullies, on both sides of the Atlantic: I was small, I was quiet, I played piano and, of course, being homosexual didn't help. I haven't forgotten how it feels to be helpless. I never want to feel that way again.

I don't hate this life and I don't hate Dom for bringing me into it. He saved me; if I'd lived through that beating, not very likely but it could have happened, I'd have spent the last fifty years in a wheelchair. I probably would have wound up pissing through a tube as well. I have many reasons to hate Dom but that isn't one of them. That first week, I was all his. I clung to him, my only anchor in this strange new world, as he explained it all, what I was, what I could do. He showed me how to use my new strength and, more importantly, how to control it. Punching a hole in a door isn't hard - what's hard is opening a door without ripping it right off its hinges or having the handle break off in your hand. Picking up a cup or a glass without cracking it, that's another tricky one. With Dom's help, I soon learned to control myself.

But even then, right at the beginning, he had to be a bastard. He took the broken end of a bottle and cut my arm with it, just to show me how quickly the wound would heal. When I asked him why we had to stay out of the sun, he pulled the curtain aside and let one shaft of light touch my skin. It was only for a second but it still felt like he'd thrown boiling water right in my face.

That was all nothing, though, compared to my first kill. Dom let me drink from him at first. But, after a week of that, he wouldn't do it anymore. He said I'd have to start feeding myself. I didn't think I could do it and I told him so. He didn't argue the point, he just starved me for three nights instead. He wouldn't give me his blood and he pushed me away when I tried to take it from him. Crying and begging him for it just made him laugh. At the end of those three nights, when I was almost insane with hunger, he brought me something. I can't even remember if it was a man or a woman: all I could see and smell was food and I didn't hesitate. I was as deaf to their pleas as Dom had been to mine.

Dom stood over me as I fed, jeering and clapping sarcastically until I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled him to the ground and started punching him. This was our first brawl, but it certainly wasn't our last. It set a pattern for the years to come: a fight, a violent reconciliation, a split and then another fight and another reconciliation. Repeat to fade. We can never stay apart. If he doesn't come and get me, I eventually crack and go back to him. I can't help myself, I love him. I love him when he's rough, when he's a prick, when he plays games with me and fucks with my head. And I love him when he's kind, loving, generous - because he can be all these things too. But - and this is a question I've been asking myself for fifty years and I still don't have an answer - which side of him do I prefer? The bitter or the sweet? Do I want the rose, or do I want the thorns?
 
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Bad Blood Part III
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence


1960:

"Stop it, Ray! He's had enough! For God's sake, you're going to kill him!"

I'm trying to crawl away but why am I wasting my time? My eyes are already swelling shut, I can't see where I'm going and they've really gone to town on my hands, crushing my fingers and breaking my wrists, so I'm trying to support myself on my elbows. I'm just creeping around in a circle, but still I try.

I hear the one called Ray, the one that started it all, sounding out of breath. "Don't tell me what to do. I'll say when he's had enough. Little Limey faggot, thinks he can ruin my suit, get me kicked out of my favourite bar and get away with it, I'll say when he's had enough."

He kicks me and pain flares in my back, a white-hot agony like nothing I've ever felt before. Then it ebbs away, to be replaced by ... nothing. Everything below the waist goes dead and, even if I live through this night, something that's looking less and less likely with every passing minute, I know I'll never walk again.

"What are you looking at?" Ray again, but who is he talking to?

"Oh, nothing much." A new voice. "Just two cowardly pieces of shit beating up a helpless man in an alley."

"What are you going to do about it? You think you can takes us both on?"

No fear in the stranger's voice. "I know I can."

I'm quickly forgotten as they attack this fresh victim. I hear scuffling sounds and cries of pain, then Ray again. He doesn't sound so tough now: he's screaming like a little girl. I can't see what's going on, but I take a savage pleasure in the sound.

Serves you right, you bastard. Yes, I spilled your drink, it was an accident. I apologized and I bought you another one. I even offered to have your suit cleaned but that wasn't good enough for you, was it? Now look at this, just look. I'll never work again, I'll never walk again. I thought things would change when I got to America, but nothing did. The bullies just have different accents here.

A foot digs into my ribs and turns me on my back. I don't know what's happened, but the stranger is talking to me now. "Still alive, I see. Now, what should I do with you, I wonder?" I raise my wrecked hands in a silent plea. Help me and, if you can't help me, then kill me. But don't leave me like this, please.

His footsteps fade as he walks away. No, don't leave me! Then he changes his mind; he returns and I feel his hands grip my shoulders, pulling me into a sitting position. "I don't even know if this will work. But what have you got to lose?" His teeth are on my neck, then in my neck. It hurts, but the pain doesn't matter. Everything seems far away and unimportant as he clings to me, bleeding the life out of me.

He releases me and pulls my head forward. "Drink." Mindlessly, I obey. And, just as felt myself fading away a moment ago, I now feel myself coming back to life. The feeling returns to my legs, my hands don't hurt anymore. My senses reawaken and I'm suddenly aware of just what it is I'm doing: my mouth is pressed against an open wound on the stranger's wrist and I'm drinking his blood. I'm drinking him. The idea doesn't revolt me, no, not at all. Right now, it seems like the most natural thing in the world.

He pulls his wrist away and, ignoring my whines of protest, drags me up and sets me on my feet. I take a couple of steps, everything seems to be in working order. I flex my hands experimentally - good as new. I stare at my saviour. "You healed me. How? How is this possible?"

"Not healed, changed. I took your old life away and gave you a new one, a better one."

"Better?" I'm confused. "I don't understand."

"Not yet, but you will. I'll teach you everything you need to know." He kicks one of the bodies lying on the ground. Strange though it may seem, I'd almost forgotten about them. "But I'll tell you one thing right now: this will never happen again. The next time someone tries to hurt you, it'll end like this, with you on your feet and them on the ground."

He grabs my chin and leans in for a closer look. "Wait a minute, I know you. Don't you play piano in that bar up the street?"

"Yes, I do."

"I knew I'd seen you before. Your name's Michael, Martin, something like that?"

"Matthew."

"I knew it began with an M." He holds out a hand. "I'm Dominic."

I ignore the hand as I throw my arms around him. I don't know what he is or how he did these things and I don't care. He saved my life and that's enough for me. I press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back abruptly. Oh, I shouldn't have done that, I bet he's not -

My thoughts cut off as he presses me against the wall and kisses me deeply. I close my eyes in relief and relax into it. When he breaks the kiss he rests his forehead against mine for a couple of seconds before taking my hand and pulling me towards the street. "Come on. It's still early, and you've got so much to learn. But that's okay, we've got plenty of time."

"We do?"

"Yes, all the time in the world."
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Bad Blood Part II
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence, gore, vampire sex.

I am indebted to stefanyeah and ashamedbliss for drawing my attention to some flaws in my writing - basically, my habit of squashing my dialogue into paragraphs. I've gone back through the first chapter of this and corrected that, I've done the same to the first two chapters of Run and will do the same to Temptation/Shadows.Oh, and ashamedbliss wanted vampire sex, I've done my best to oblige.


Curses and grunts of pleasure fill the air as Dom slams into me, his fingers digging into my hips. My own hands grip the dumpster in front of me and I can feel the metal buckling beneath my fingertips. He picks up the pace but it's still not enough. I reach behind me and pry his hand from my hip, breaking at least one of his fingers in the process, and bring his wrist to my lips.

Biting down, I moan happily as hot blood fills my mouth. Dom grunts in approval and I feel his teeth sink into the nape of my neck, tearing and twisting the flesh there. His blood in my mouth, my blood in his: the sensation overwhelms me and I cry out, my scream muffled by Dom's wrist, as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. I'm dimly aware of Dom still moving in me, still panting, still straining for his own release. But, just as I begin to come down from my high, I feel him falter, then thrust a couple of times in an odd sort of non-rhythm. He snorts against my neck and I feel a wet heat flood me as he collapses against me.

We don't speak as we pull ourselves together, rearranging our clothes, wiping the blood from our lips. Dom winces slightly as he pops his fingers back into place. We each take a dead man to search, slipping whatever money we find into our own pockets. Dom takes my hand as we walk back to my place.

It's still dark when we get back to my room, but only just, and I think we're both relieved to be inside. My place isn't much, just a medium-sized room with a tiny bathroom but really, what else do I need? I turn on the lamp and Dom hums in appreciation when he realizes the one window has been boarded up - but that wasn't my doing. The last tenant had a bad day and threw himself out the window, not bothering to open it first, and the manager hadn't gotten around to replacing it when I moved in. I told him not to bother, since I'm not a big fan of sunlight. With my pale skin, that's easy to believe.

We undress each other slowly, taking our time. This second encounter is slow, gentle, the complete opposite of our frantic coupling in the alley. Dom's fingers trace a lazy path up and down my back as we move together. Afterwards we lie together in the dark, his chest against my back. He nuzzles my neck, kissing the places he bit and his hand strokes my stomach.

"I missed you." This is the first thing he's said since we left the alley.

I squeeze his hand gently. "I missed you, too." And I did. I may as well admit the truth, if only to myself: if he hadn't tracked me down I would have gone crawling back to him. I need him, like an addict needs a drug.

My train of thought is abruptly derailed by the sounds coming from the next room. I'm right at the end of the hall, so I only have one neighbour. But the walls here are paper-thin and this one man makes enough noise for three. I feel Dom twitch in annoyance as the man in the next room goes about his morning routine, but the worst is yet to come.

And here it comes: he goes into his bathroom and as he relieves himself, he begins to whistle. It's a high, piercing sound guaranteed to drill right through a man's skull and set his teeth on edge. It's the last straw for Dom and he starts to get up. "That's it. THAT is it. I'm going to rip his head off and shove it down the damn toilet-"

I grab his arm and pull him back down. "Don't. The sun'll be up by now and he'll go to work in a few minutes. Just ignore it." Dom settles down again, grumbling to himself. My neighbour slams his door and walks off down the hall, still whistling. Now I can relax. I close my eyes and let myself drift off.

I know something's wrong the second I wake. I switch on the lamp and find the space beside me empty. The next room is silent and that's definitely not right. No television, no rattling of pots and pans. I can't hear anything, but I can smell something: blood, a lot of blood. I dress quickly and go to the other room. Dom is standing in the middle of it, dressed only in boxer shorts, covered in gore. He steps back, inviting me to admire his work. As I take in the scene before me I have to hand it to him: when it comes to tearing a human body apart, he has the eye of an artist and the skill of a surgeon. My neighbour is on his bed. And the floor. And the walls. But wait, there's more. A length of intestine dangles from the lightbulb and, when I look in the bathroom, I see Dom's followed through on his earlier threat. He did all this, I didn't hear a thing, and I bet nobody else in the building did either.

I gesture helplessly at the mess. "Why?"

He shrugs casually. "I was hungry, and bored. I thought you'd be happy. He was fucking annoying, you can't deny it."

He has no idea. I've been here for about a month, listening to the man in this room, hearing him snore, fart and masturbate - that's always a special treat - and I probably would have snapped and drained him myself if Dom hadn't beaten me to the punch. Well it's done now, can't be undone, so what's the point of arguing about it?

Dom follows me back to my room and I sit on the edge of the bed as I watch him wash himself and get dressed. "I have to find another place to live now."

"Yeah, you have to leave all this." His face contorts into an exaggerated mask of sorrow. "What a tragedy."

I ignore him as I put some clothes in a bag and zip it up. I don't bother locking the door as we leave. Dom grabs my arm as we round the corner and points at the ceiling. "Cameras? This place has cameras?" He gapes in disbelief. "The cockroaches are so big they look like they should be paying rent, the walls would probably collapse if someone breathed on them and they can afford cameras?"

He pulls me along to the lobby where the manager, I think his name is Frank, is sitting behind a counter. Dom vaults over the counter like the showoff he is and drags him into the back. I drop my bag and follow them. Frank is pointing at a small office, that must be where they keep the electronic equiptment. Dom winks at me.

"That was easy. I didn't even have to threaten to torture him. I just grabbed him and he cracked like an egg."

"Is all this really necessary?"

"You want to walk out of here and leave video footage of you, of us, behind? It's too risky."

"Maybe you should have thought about taking risks before you decided to redecorate."

"You're always so cranky when you get up." He shoves Frank at me. "Here, eat something, you'll feel better."

Dom goes into the office and I can hear him wrecking the place as Frank stares at me, looking for some kind of comfort. But he's come to the wrong place for that. I make it quick, I can do that much. Dom joins me again, snapping DVDs and dropping them on the floor. "I miss videotapes, they were so much fun to break. Squeeze hard enough and they just exploded."

"Technology marches on."

"The old days were better."

I know what he means. Things were so much easier before we had to worry about being filmed on cameraphones and splashed all over YouTube. But I can't help myself, I can't let a remark like that slide.

"Old days, Dom? Was that before they invented the car or before they invented the wheel?"

Dom glares at me - I hit a nerve, as I knew I would. He's as sensitive about his age as he is vain about his looks. If we really didn't show up in mirrors he would have gone insane decades ago. As I retrieve my bag and we leave the mess behind I wonder, how long will it last, this fragile peace? Something tells me it won't be long before we split apart and the cycle begins again, a cycle that began the night he turned me.






hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Bad Blood Part I
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence.

Author's Notes: And so, as the nights get longer and Halloween slowly approaches, a girl's fancy turns to blood and guts. Or at least it does if you're a freak like me. I'm at a temporary roadblock with my other stories, so I thought I'd try my hand at a vampire story  - and if it's even one tenth as good as Captus Est I'll be happy. Sorry about the crappy title, couldn't think of a better one.
Things influencing this tale include: the films Near Dark and Razor Blade Smile, the Joe Pitt novels by Charlie Huston, the graphic novel Preacher by Garth Ennis, the British TV shows Ultraviolet and Being Human. There might be some True Blood in there too (I'm about five eps behind on True Blood btw, so pretty please, no spoilers?)
As for Twilight, all I can say is that I haven't read the books or seen the films, so I have no opinion on it and let's just leave it at that.


I check my watch: three in the morning, it's later than I thought. Really should be more careful about things like that. I walk down a nearby alley, hoping it'll bring me out on a familiar street and hit a dead end. I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to find two men blocking the only exit.

They're both bigger and heavier than I am, which wouldn't be difficult. One has a chain wrapped around his fist and, as he unwinds it, the other pulls a switchblade from his jacket pocket and clicks it open. I wonder, would it do any good to try and talk my way out of this? No - something tells me that nothing short of a direct lightning strike would slow these guys down. They've done this before, that much is obvious and asking nicely usually makes things worse, especially if you're doing the asking in an English accent. It's like a red rag to a bull. Better to keep my mouth shut and get it over with.

The first guy, the one with the chain, steps forward and swings low, aiming for my knees. His eyes widen in surprise when, instead of trying to dodge the chain, I bend and grab it. That's nothing compared to the look on his face when I use the chain to swing him into the nearest wall. I hear something crack, probably his neck, as he drops to the ground in a boneless heap. The second guy stands with his mouth hanging open, it's never gone this way before. He backs up and I think he's going to run but then he changes his mind and rushes at me.

I take a step to the left and he whizzes right by me and goes full-tilt into the wall. He drops the switchblade, I pick it up and, before he can get his bearings again, pin him against the wall. I use the knife to make a hole in his neck, put my mouth over it and drink my fill. At least I didn't have to chew a hole in his neck, not tonight. What I wouldn't give for a nice little set of Hollywood fangs. I feel one hand on the back of my own neck, another on my jacket and now I'm the one being thrown, crashing into the opposite wall, dropping my meal and the knife. My attacker grabs it and plants it in my chest, piercing the heart underneath. I hear a familiar giggle as I push him away and pull the blade out.

"That fucking hurt, you prick! And you've ruined my shirt. Why can't you just say hello like a normal person?"

"You know me, Matt - I just can't resist making an entrance. Normal? What do either of us know about being normal? Or being people?"

Not much, not anymore. "What do you want, Dom? I told you I never wanted to see you again."

"Yes you did, and I ignored you completely. I know you didn't really mean it." Dom kneels by the chain man and strips off his long, leather coat. He puts the coat on and twirls around. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculous, like a child dressing up in his father's clothes." Assuming the father in question was a Hell's Angel.

Dom looks down at himself. "Hmm, you might have a point there. Shame." He pulls the coat off and drops it on its owner.

I'm almost definitely going to regret this, but I ask anyway. "Why are you in such a good mood? You're practically vibrating. Have leopard print shirts suddenly come into fashion or something?"

"Oh, I'm just feeling romantic. Look at this: a full moon in the sky, you, me, an alley that smells of piss and dead men at our feet. Just like the night we met." Dom hugs himself. "It gives me a lovely warm feeling."

"Maybe you've wet yourself. That would explain the smell." I brush past him on my way out. I don't feel like wasting what's left of the night trying to have a civilised conversation, or any kind of conversation, with him. We've played this game too many times before. But Dom's having none of it. He grabs my arm and drags me to the end of the alley, shoving me against a dumpster and holding me in place. I squirm against him. "Let me go."

He leans in and licks my ear. "Make me."

So I do. I break his hold on me and spin us until he's the one against the dumpster. Then I start punching him in the face, over and over again, right hand, left hand, right, left, trying to show him just how much I fucking hate him. He doesn't try to defend himself, he just takes it and the smile never leaves his face. My hands slow as the anger drains out of me and then he makes his move, throwing me against the dumpster again, this time with enough force to leave a dent in the metal.

I hate the way he does that - he always has to prove he's stronger than me, that he'll always have the edge. He leans in again, whispering in my ear. "You want this, Matt, you always do, so don't even try to pretend. You'll never be rid of me, never. We'll be doing this until the end of time." Dom presses his mouth to mine and I resist for all of five seconds before giving up and letting him in. Our tongues battle for dominance, sliding, twisting, entwining. He wins when I feel his hand on my groin, stroking me through my jeans. I moan into his mouth, my surrender complete. As we pull at each other's belts I can't help but hate myself for being so fucking weak. He's right, I can't resist him and I never could. Oh, I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him. It's true, we can do this until the end of time. That's what I'm afraid of.

Profile

hannah_chapter1: (Default)
hannah_chapter1

August 2016

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
141516171819 20
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 22nd, 2017 10:47 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios