Smooth

 

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal Dynamics not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Are you amazed by the fact that they are not mine . . . neither am I; I’m just a little disappointed.

 

Warning: this fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy), blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it’s that simple.

 

Rating: R-NC17

 

Pairing: Sebastian/Kain

 

Part: one of four

 

Set: During Blood Omen Two with Flashbacks to the time between Blood Omen and Blood Omen Two.

 

Authoress note: My second attempt, hopefully this one will be a little bit better than the last. The whole fic is from Sebastian’s point of view. Note that the title was taken from a John smiths extra smooth glass ^_^

 

Beta read by Anne Shard

 

Italics = flashbacks

 

 

* \/ * /\ * \/ * /\ *

 

 

Chapter One

 

{Sebastian}

 

He missed water.

 

Not that he’d been an avid swimmer before his death, but it was at times like these that he wished more than anything to be able to sink slowly into a warm and luxurious bath.

 

His body hurt, his mind hurt and his soul hurt.

 

He needed to be clean, and without water getting clean was difficult. He was not dirty in the way humans collect muck and grime, it was impossible for a vampire to become dirty that way. But he felt dirty; it was almost as if the dirt was just under his skin or on his soul. Yes, it was on his soul, somewhere it would never scrub off.

 

He could still feel that thing's hands on his face, his mouth, and he shuddered. He was frightened to look in the mirror for fear that he would see hand prints on his face and arms.

 

There was a time long, long ago when he loved getting the attention of the one he served. He enjoyed the power it gave him and he liked to be able to prove that his lord was just the same as him, with thoughts and feelings common to their race. Of course, then, his Lord had been of the same race as himself. Now it was all different.

 

He served the Sarafan Lord now, a strange creature that called itself human but was clearly not. Sebastian wasn’t sure what it was, but no human could live for two hundred years as his present Lord had done. His theory was quite simple - the thing had been human at one point, but all the glyph magic and God knows what else had possibly mutated him into something grotesque, prolonging his life and twisting his face.

 

Sebastian had never seen its face without the golden mask, for which he was grateful.

 

He looked down at the damp cloth resting in the basin. He knew this was insane, he knew it was foolish, but it was the only way he could ever feel clean. He lifted the cloth with an armoured hand and rapidly wiped over his face, small sounds of pain escaped his throat as his skin burned with the acidic touch. He dropped the cloth and looked up into the smeary mirror. His skin was red raw, but healing quickly, and, to his relief, there were no hand prints, no evidence that the creature had ever laid a hand on him.

 

He shuddered again. It was getting worse.

 

When he had first joined the ranks of the Sarafan, he had noticed the way the golden leader watched him and it had pleased him. He had even encouraged it with small silent gestures. His rage at his previous Lord was a blinding thing.

 

Then, slowly, as the anger had begun to subside, he was grateful that watch was all his new leader did. Over time, however, the small touches began, small touches that could easily be described as accidental, but then they became more deliberate, hands stroking down his arms, across his back, into his hair and holding his face.

 

And today, finally, the thing had kissed him.

 

He had made to leave the Sarafan mansion when he felt cold armoured fingers curling around his arm. The shock at being caught off guard had made him malleable and he had been easily jerked into a small room. It had taken a moment for him to register the fact that he was now pinned to a wardrobe, with his Lord crushing their mouths together.

 

The force of it had actually hurt, the golden armour biting into his cheeks and the dry crackling skin of his Lord's mouth had made him want to cringe but he had managed not to. He had taken his leave, quietly and calmly, with every intention of returning home and stabbing himself.

 

The contact had stirred unwanted memories, memories that he wished he didn’t have as they made what was happening now seem all the worse, although they had allowed him to survive the kiss without outwardly showing his disgust. 

 

Dry, brown, crackling skin had become soft and white, with ebony lips. The golden helmet had become long velvet ashen hair, and glowing, green, pupil-less eyes had become enigmatic golden orbs.

 

Sebastian chocked on a half sob. He was now willing to admit to himself that he was frightened. He didn’t want to be touched by that thing and he knew soon his Lord would demand it, take it whether he gave it willingly or not. If he refused and put up a fight, his new Lord would have him murdered, killed or imprisoned.

 

He feared imprisonment the most. It put him at the mercy of his Lord, who he knew was not coy when torturing vampires, and who was fond of taking what he wanted and would not shy away from doing so. The thought of being beaten and raped on a constant base was enough to make any creature tremble. He knew he would not be able to stand such a fate and that if his Lord should make the demand that he give himself, he would do it. Then he would either die by his own hand or continue to give himself until it drove him completely made with grief and disgust.

 

Shaking still, he slipped his cape from his shoulders and let it crumple on the floor before his armour joined it in an untidy heap. His hands were shaking so much that he almost spilled the warm blood left on his desk as he made to lift it. Once he felt the crimson essence warming his cold form, he slid delicately under his sheets and tried to sleep.  

 

 

* / * / * / * / *

 

 

{The Following Night}

 

The carriage jostled about as if it would come off the road at any second. Faustus, who sat across from him, seemed to be enjoying the rough ride, occasionally making small sounds at particularly hash jolts.

 

Marcus, like himself, had been silent, sitting next to him, but not touching. The mentalist vampire was always quiet, guarding his emotions and thoughts better than Sebastian had ever seen in anyone else. All the other vampires he had known or knew now were unashamed to bare their emotions, be it fear, anger or joy.

 

A rough knock sent the mentalist sprawling across the floor of the carriage and sent Faustus into roars of laughter.

 

“Makes you wonder why they bother paving the roads at all,” Marcus hissed under his breath.

 

Rising, he brushed off his knees that were now dusty and sat back down; his eyes strayed to Sebastian, who tried to ignore him. Marcus opened his mouth twice before finally speaking. 

 

“Do you know why we have been called together so soon after the last meeting?” he asked politely, a little too politely. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Marcus spoke to him as if he were treading on glass.

 

“Thought of all the people who should know it would be you,” Faustus sniggered behind his hand.

 

“And just WHAT is that supposed to mean?” Sebastian snapped. Instantly he could feel power stirring in him as his anger rose to replace the cold fear that had been twisting in his stomach. He growled lowly as he felt the red glow of blood rage surround him.

 

“Calm down,” Faustus muttered, no longer smiling. “You’re far too tense, brother.”

 

Sebastian hissed quietly as he sat back. Faustus knew him to well; simply using the word brother was enough to calm him, causing his rational mind to overtake his blinding rage that always seemed to curl in his stomach, waiting to be released. These two were his brothers; they were all he could now count on, and that was a depressing thought.

 

The carriage jerked to an abrupt halt outside the Sarafan mansion and the doors swung open by the force of their stop. Sebastian took a deep breath and tried to draw the illusion of confidence around himself, as he stepped down. Marcus followed him closely as they entered the mansion. Human eyes all rested on them. Sebastian smirked, he could practically taste the fear in the air, and he welcomed it.

 

It was a perfect distraction to his own dread.

 

They walked through corridors that they had walked many times, until they emerged into what Faustus had jokingly dubbed the room of shame. Sebastian knew he was right; their Lord deliberately had them meet in this room because it reminded them of how they had been defeated.

 

The paintings told tale of glorious flames and powerful spears, of blood and death, all of it vampire.

 

Images of impaled undead littered the walls, all working towards the grand centre piece, the death of Kain.

 

The images pained Faustus and Marcus for the right reasons, but they pained him for a different one. It had been him who had slunk off in the night, in a cloud of rage and jealousy, to tell tale of where the vampire army was hidden. It was him to had arranged an ambush that would destroy the vampires and kill their leader.

 

Every time they were in this room, Sebastian would always glare hatefully at the smaller images, fighting with himself not to look at the largest one. But every time his eyes betrayed him and went towards it, and every time he felt the same soul destroying agony that he had felt in the day of the battle when he had seen it all happen for real.

 

“You are late,” the deep rasping voice of their leader came crashing around them like hail stones.

 

“Forgive us, my liege.” Marcus bowed, but a golden hand waved to silence him.

 

“I have no time for vampire filth today,” the Sarafan Lord spoke harshly. “I call you here to give you news. The rumours are true.”

 

The Sarafan Lord growled as his vampires simply stared at him, blinking occasionally.

 

“Kain lives,” he snapped eventually.

 

Sebastian felt his undead heart give three fast beats. He looked at his brothers; he easily saw the shock on Faustus, who never tried to hide what he felt, and even Marcus who was most skilled at hiding his emotions was now displaying shock. Sebastian hoped shock was all he showed as well.

 

“You have one order. Kill him.” The Sarafan Lord turned to leave.

 

“My Lord,” Sebastian snapped without thinking, causing the golden figure to turn and glare at him with flaming green eyes. Sebastian quickly feel to one knee.

 

“We served under Kain, we know how powerful he is. We would fail in this task you have set, and even together we would still fail.”

 

“FOOL!” the Sarafan Lord snapped loudly. “Kain has been dead for over two hundred years. He is as powerful now as he was then, weaker, his sleep will have weakened him! You, however,” a twisted smile formed on dry brown lips, “have grown and developed. Your powers are stronger. You will crush him for me.” And with that the Sarafan Lord stalked from the room.

 

 

* / * / * / * / *

 

 

The carriage had gone, for which Marcus was thankful. Faustus seemed disappointed, while Sebastian just wallowed in the relief that he had escaped the meeting unharmed and untouched. He watched as his two brothers started walking towards the main gate that would release them back into the city. He started to follow, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and a rasping voice in his ear.

 

“You spoke out of place today, vampire,” his Lord hissed. Instantly Sebastian turned and fell to his knees again.

 

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he breathed, hating himself with every breath he took.

 

“I like you down there, vampire,” his Lord smirked. “Perhaps we should find other uses for that quick tongue of yours.”

 

A golden armoured hand reached down to cup his chin and Sebastian fought not to wince, not to show any outward emotion. He would not give his Lord reason to harm him. He would not fall prey to this thing.

 

“It is a shame you are what you are,” the creature breathed, “and yet it is not, for if you were human you would have been long dead by now. This way you can last the ages with me.” The smirk widened.

“How do you like that?” he asked, his mouth inches from Sebastian’s ear. “Eternity with me, my warrior and my little . . . toy.” A golden hand reached to unfasten trousers, and Sebastian felt a lump form in his throat

 

“Lord?” a different voice spluttered, a human coward in the front doorway.

 

Never before had Sebastian been so happy to see a mortal.

 

 

* / * / * / * / *

 

 

Sebastian stalked the rooftops around the industrial quarter. Several humans wandered the streets, even at this time, as the night shifts were changing now. It was a perfect time to hunt this part of the city.

 

“Kain lives.” Those words, spoken so harshly, had had a powerful effect on the vampire. Memories and emotions he’d tried so hard to suppress had risen fast and hard, like the pressurised water used to cool machinery in the factory.

 

He leapt down suddenly, claws striking the human male that he had chosen without thought. He lifted the now gibbering human and pushed him up against the alley wall. He could just kill the human and take the blood after death, it was safer and quieter; but he felt the need to hear broken whimpers while he stole away the human’s life.

 

He snarled, pulling his upper lip back, baring fangs. The human let lose a loud whimper and Sebastian stopped. The boy in his grip was tall, with skin nowhere near vampire pale but pale for a human. His eyes were orange-brown, almost gold, and his hair was long and very blonde.

 

Instantly, he dropped the whimpering boy and watched as the human scrambled away. He was dumbstruck. How on Earth had that just happened? The human had looked just like . . .

 

He jerked suddenly. That human was now running lose, and it had to be killed. Tearing after it Sebastian easily caught up, following the smell of its already spilt blood. The boy looked at him and yelped as he was thrust into an alley.

 

“Please,” the boy breathed, gasping.

 

 

“Please” he gasped, slamming his head back, ashen hair spread around him like a halo. The irony made Sebastian smile.

 

“You like that? You want more?” Sebastian asked, smirking.

 

“Please,” he almost begged this time, arching upwards.

 

 

Once again, Sebastian dropped the human, gripping the sides of his head in a feeble attempt to force the memories from his mind. This time, however, he was aware enough to stop the boy from running, gripping his collar and swinging him around into the wall.

 

“Oh, Gods...” The boy curled up on himself.

 

 

“Oh GODS!!” he cried, a little shriek.

 

“I can’t hold out much longer,” Sebastian gasped, squeezing his eyes closed, trying to keep his quick snapping rhythm.

 

“Don’t stop, never stop.” Moonlight pale arms wrapped around Sebastian’s shoulders.

 

 

Sebastian aimed an armoured foot and kicked the boy hard, shattering bones and breaking his neck. The boy lumped dead to the floor, blonde hair becoming stained with his own blood.

 

 

Ashen skin covered in crimson, lower abdomen mutilated, silvery-white hair stained red, golden eyes looking upwards unseeing. Dead.

 

 

“This has to stop,” Sebastian breathed, kneeling down in the boy’s blood, a pale hand reaching over to pull the dead human into his lap where he rocked gently.

 

End of chapter one