Interview With a Vampire
"No mercy for the lost / No soothing for the sad / The line is never crossed / They are the living dead / And this is how they move / And this is how they sway / The danger is the truth / They die and live again."
It was their dance; ritualistic, primal and instinctive. There were three beats that repeat every night; the hunt, the seduction and the strike. It was invariable and inevitable. They danced, they played and they wooed but inevitably it always led to the strike.
The blood, the limp figures and the smell of fresh innocent deaths permeated their eternal seduction. Long, brittle fingers tangled in perfect golden locks. Sapphires and emeralds half-hooded in exquisite pain. Sharp teeth and hot blood and the perfect mesh of lithe, delicate bodies.
The danger is always there. One drop too much or one moment too late. One kill too many or one too few. They exist on the edge and dine indiscriminately on evil and innocence. Their power is near infinite but it’s never enough.
They swoop and strike; coax and persuade. They are gods of their own making and the demons that haunt the dreams of children and steal away the hearts of romantics.
Love is their only enemy.
Charred, rotted flesh and the innocent smile or a porcelain doll tear them apart.
Love is their only friend.
Timid ashen skin and comforting cool hand. Bright lights and frightened screams. Day has come to the night and the demon princes prowl together once more.
"Of course, you must *never* take anyone into the Secret Sanctum. That's why it's called... the Secret Sanctum."
"I would never."
“So this is it?” Warren asked with a mixture of awe and amusement.
“Yeah,” Will replied, squeezing the older boy’s hand as gently as he could. Sometimes his super-strength could get a little bit out of control—especially since his last growth spurt—and he didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend… right now. “Kinda dorky, eh?”
“Really dorky…” The dark-haired boy replied distractedly, eying the over-the-top room with curiosity. His eyes lit upon the pool table and he brightened considerably. “Can we play?”
Will blinked in surprise at the request. When he had brought Warren down into the Secret Sanctum he had done so with the full intention of it leading to a make-out session and perhaps some slightly more x-rated fun.
He frowned, he was not a very good pool player. He didn’t have the finesse for the game. But Warren’s eyes were shining and he looked so hopeful and he was almost smiling and Will found himself saying ‘sure’ before he had even really considered it. His love had that affect on him sometimes.
Warren smiled for real then and Will nearly melted.
“My break or yours?” He asked, grabbing a stick from the wall.
“Err… better be yours, I broke the cue ball last time I tried.”
The pyrokinetic chuckled and leaned over the table to line up his shot. Will swallowed as he traced the line of his lover’s body; his straight back and the slight curve of his ass. His long, powerful legs and his narrow hips that Will could grab and squeeze and crush as hard as he wanted, leaving purple-black bruises without his boyfriend complaining even once. The long, soft column of his throat that he could bite and choke and even draw blood from while the only things his boyfriend did were purr and sigh in contentment or moan with pleasure.
The thin, tender wrists that he treated almost as harshly as his hips, the soft pliant lips that he could kiss and bite and…
Will nodded, face red as an apple. He lined up his own shot and missed horribly, knocking the 8-ball off the table. If possible he burned hotter and redder than he already had been.
“Are you alright Stronghold? You look a little flustered.”
“I’m fine,” He stated tightly, his erection straining inside his jeans.
His boyfriend was far too sexy for his, and Will’s, own good.
Warren nodded in acceptance and replaced the black ball on the table. He moved around to the other side of the table to figure out his shot. His long black hair fell into his eyes he lined up the balls, sliding the stick through his fingers experimentally once, twice, three times before he deftly struck the ball into the pocket.
Will couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his boyfriend by the jacket and swiftly spun him around, gripping his hips tightly and bending him backwards over the table and scattering the balls everywhere.
“So fucking hot…” He murmured, kissing his lover fiercely.
He nibbled on Warren’s bottom lip until he was granted access and plundered his mouth violently, exploring ever nook and cranny. He took one of his hands off of Warren’s hips and squeezed his throat slightly. The older boy bucked weakly beneath him.
“Boys!” Josie called merrily somewhere upstairs. “I brought take-out from Italy!”
“Shit!” Will muttered under his breath.
Warren simply laughed breathlessly.
Boomer/shape-shifting kid (possible one sided)
Is it *normal* for a teacher to slap his student's ass?
Rating: I'm gonna go with R, if only because of themes.
My Drabble Bitch is insane. I claim no responsibility for the direction in which this fic decides to head. Just because I am perverse and deviant does not mean I am responsible for this. *nods* That is all.
“I can be anyone you want.”
That is the story of my life. I’m not really good enough for anyone. Red hair, freckles and a rather large nose with loose, gangly limbs doesn’t really get many peoples rocks off. They prefer tall and dark, or small and cute. There’s no room for gangly in the spectrum of wet dreams available to the average person.
I’ve nearly shocked Coach Boomer speechless. He really is a rather handsome man. I suppose he would fall into the category of tall and dark, but he’s a little bit too rugged for that. If he were a few years younger and a few pounds lighter every girl and half of the guys in school would be swooning over him. As it is, some still are. I, of course, included.
“I can be anyone you want.” I stated, slowly stalking towards him.
I began morphing, trying to gauge his reaction to each transformation.
No. Not working. Clearly, he prefers younger bodies. I could handle that. I hadn’t really wanted to impersonate them anyway. I wouldn’t be able to act like them convincingly.
Purple rodent girl.
Okay, those made him shudder. This was harder than expected.
We’re making progress. At least I know he likes boys. That makes me a little bit more confident. I would if maybe, someday, I could approach him as myself.
He’s perking up now. A lightbulb flashed in my hand. He likes strong boys. He wants power.
Well, he’s interested now that’s for sure. He seems to be developing a bit of a situation in his pants. I smirk inwardly. He’s licking his lips. I frown slightly, wanting him to be more interested…
That’s done it. He’s absolutely rapt now. I close the distance between us, gazing down at him from behind Warren’s eyes. I feel powerful just borrowing this body. It’s no wonder he acts like the shit. He is the shit. I smirked outwardly this time, betraying that I was still myself inside.
I leaned down to kiss him firmly. He explodes in his pants.
Coach Boomer has suddenly gone very red.
He frowns. “You know, that you would have done just as well.”
Warren/Will or Will/Warren
"When are you going to love you as much as I do?" (Winter, by Tori Amos)
Warren didn’t eat lunch. Ever. That was one of the first things Will noticed once he started hanging out with the pyrokinetic. He drank juice or water every day. But he never had any lunch. When the others offered him food he just sort of shrunk in on himself and politely refused. He would stare earnestly at his book and try and become invisible.
Sometimes though his eyes were still and wet.
Those were the days when Magenta or Ethan tried pestering him to eat until one of the others got annoyed enough to shut them up. Those were the days when Zack’s careless comments about dieting and exercising in order to make himself a prime catch caused Warren to hunch in on himself and try to make himself smaller.
Sometime near the end of sophomore year Warren had started wearing thick, bulky sweatshirts to school everyday. He would come to lunch and rest his head in his arms and shake; sometimes very finely, sometimes violently. On those occasions someone, usually Magenta would start weaving her fingers through his hair, trying to make him smile, or at least relax.
During the last week of school he stopped coming to lunch altogether. On the third day Zack had gotten fed up of worrying about his friend and gone to look for him. He had found the normally stoic boy sitting at the very top of the bleachers at the football field, sobbing violently and chain-smoking.
When junior year began there was thick, shiny white scar tissue on Warren’s wrists. He snapped more and looked constantly on the edge of tears. His hair was longer and he used it as a shield to hide from everyone.
Ethan and Layla had forcibly dragged him to lunch on the first day. He flinched away from his friends and hadn’t been able to meet any of their eyes. He sat down awkwardly next to Magenta and immediately delved into his book, trembling the entire time.
Magenta nudged Will and jerked her head at Warren. Will looked at her oddly for a moment before following her gaze and stifling a surprised gaze. Those scars were new. They were deep and ran lengthwise up his forearm. He had been serious.
Layla and Will called it off halfway through the year. Being friends just worked better for them. They had known each other too long and they didn’t have any chemistry left. They had burned too hot too fast.
Mysteriously enough Warren slowly returned to normal. He stopped trembling all the time. He was daring enough to raise his eyes. He made small talk at lunch and he didn’t wear sweatshirts anymore unless it was cold.
He and Will became friends for real, no longer simply friendly acquaintances. They started hanging out on weekends and before anyone could even predict it they were the new hottest couple at Sky High.
Summer was good. Senior year was bad. Warren added some new scars to his arms. He started wearing sweatshirts again. He got quieter. He tried to avoid lunches. He started smoking again with a vengeance. He stopped meeting people’s eyes. He cried; sometimes alone, sometimes on Will’s shoulder.
Will never swayed.
On the bad days they would skip and sit underneath the bleachers at the football field. Will would run his fingers gently through the long black hair, kissing the top of his lightly, lovingly.
On the worst days Will would pull the older boy into his lap and squeeze him as tightly as he could stand, murmuring sweet words into his hair while he let Warren sob into the crook of his neck.
"You dumbass, haven't you figured it out *yet*? I love you."
On the first day of junior year Will found an envelope tucked neatly in between pages 11 and 12 of his brand new Mad Science text book. The envelope was light purple, and he wondered idly as he picked it up if the tiny heart on the cover was Magenta’s idea of a joke.
The writing on the front wasn’t hers though.
Magenta’s writing was big and messy. It was very round and had a rather bubble-like nature. She almost always printed and her writing always leaned to the right. This writing couldn’t have been farther from that. It was very thin, Spartan and cursive. It was quick and smooth and it slanted to the left. He frowned slightly at the way it was addressed.
All it said was Stronghold.
He opened the letter at lunch. The girls were looking excitedly over his shoulder while Ethan and Zack rolled their eyes and pretended to not be interested. Warren was so engrossed in The Chronicles of Narnia that he hadn’t even noticed when the others sat down at the table.
“Open it!” Layla squealed excitedly.
“Yeah Stronghold,” Magenta agreed. “Let’s see who’s dumb enough to write you a love letter.”
“Hey!” He protested half-heartedly.
He opened the letter with a vague feeling of nervousness.
I have been waiting. Figure it out already.
“Well, that was just pure poetry,” Magenta rolled his eyes, glancing up and gazing around the cafeteria.
“It was… sweet…” Layla stated eventually.
Will just rolled his eyes. “Who’s H.H.?”
The next morning Will found a white rose in his locker with an orange ribbon tied around it. It had very sharp thorns. There was a little card attached to it.
I’m still waiting Stronghold. Just open your eyes. I am right in front of you.
“Whatcha got there Stronghold?” Warren asked curiously, plucking Will’s flower away from him.
“Another note from your admirer?”
“Yeah…” Will sighed. “Well… off to class we go.”
Warren smirked and gave back the rose to Will.
The fourth night his mother handed him a little orange envelope and a paper crane. He blanched and he looked at her curiously. She just shook her head with a secretive smile. Will returned it tightly and dashed up to his room.
Please, just think about this logically. I’ve been giving you clues… figure it out already. This is starting to get old.
H.H < ------ This counts as a clue by the way.
Will frowned thoughtfully to himself. He considered the clues. He had no idea what “H.H.” meant but aside from that there had been a white rose with an orange ribbon, and an orange envelope with a white paper crane.
He couldn’t really see any connection.
“Layla!” Will whined at school the following morning. “I need your help!”
He showed her last night’s note.
“My mom wouldn’t tell me who gave it to her,” He muttered bitterly.
Layla frowned thoughtfully. “Connections… clues… hey! Maybe you should ask Warren. He knows how to do origami.”
“I do have those from time to time.”
“Hey W’ren!” Will greeted cheerfully, sitting down next to his friend in the library. “Can I talk to you?”
“Finally,” He muttered under his breath.
“Can you help me figure out who this secret admirer person is?”
Warren nearly screamed with frustration.
“You dumbass!” He cried in anger. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“N-no…” He was vaguely frightened by his friend’s sudden ire. “Who is it?”
The older boy dropped his head into his hands and looked almost broken.
“Me,” He replied softly.
“You?” Will was confused.
“Me,” He repeated again. “I love you.”
“It was you!?” Will asked with surprise.
Warren shrunk away from his super strength endowed crush.
“Shit! Why the heck did you have to use those screwed up notes? And who the hell is ‘H.H.’? Why didn’t you just ask me out like a normal human being… and the incomprehensible clues!!! What the hell Warren?!”
“Hothead…” He replied meekly.
Will blinked. He should have caught that. He flushed slightly.
“And the rose with the ribbon?”
“White for you… orange for me…” He mumbled weakly.
Warren just raised an eyebrow at that one.
Will shook his head. He leaned across the table and kissed Warren firmly on the lips.
“Next time, just ask me out like a normal person.”