Disclaimer: Legacy of
Kain belongs to Edios and
Warning: it has to be said . . . . this fic contains YAOI
(GuyXGuy), blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it’s that simple.
If you choose to avoid any of these things the back
button is right there for your use and I hope you find what you are looking
for. By continuing you are acknowledging the above information and accepting
it.
Pairing: Kain/Magnus
Rating: NC-17
Part: Two of god only knows, um maybe three . . . or four, probably
four by now I hope it stays that way but dear god Magnus is going a little bit
mental – no pun intended.
Believe
it or not it was meant to be a one off but Magnus got out of hand.
Set: Post Smooth. Kain has left
Sebastian dead in the industrial quarter and now finds himself colliding with
another visage from his past
Authoress note: wow busy
past few weeks, have literally been wrestling with time to try and find a few
quiet moments in which to write this. Makes the idea of being a timestreamer
sound nice . . . I’d be a better timestreamer than Moebius . . . I wouldn’t worship a big sushi for one thing.
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Chapter Two
{Magnus}
“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?”
The woman turned suddenly, looking around through
sightless eyes, forever blind due to clumsy stitching. Her arms came up over her
head protectively, an automatic reflex.
“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be in a
place like this.”
The woman slowly removed her arms and stood up
straight. She listened intently, hearing only the usual creaks of the stone
work and machinery. She assumed the voice was addressing her; no one else
seemed to be around. It was soft, almost cooing to her. She would have smiled a
little if her mouth hadn’t been so cruelly closed. Some of the stitches were
rotting on her skin; she could feel it.
“And all alone, too,” the voice continued. “Such a shame. They shouldn’t hurt a little bird like you.”
She sniveled quietly, taking a few scuffed and shaking
steps towards the sound of the voice, her arms held in front of her, preventing
her from colliding painfully with rough stones. Bandaged hands touched gingerly
at stone work and slowly moved to the left. She was sure the voice was coming
from over there.
“I could look after you,” the voice was closer now,
slightly louder despite its hushed tones. “I would protect you, little bird.”
Her hands closed over iron bars, gripping them
tightly. The voice was caged; was it another inmate like her? But it promised
protection. She paused a moment, her half lost mind swirling with
possibilities. The voice was clearly male, but it was different to the other
male voices she so often heard. It wasn’t crying or whining piteously, nor was
it gruff and alien like the jailers. It was strong.
“Just let me out. Pull the leaver little bird, just to
your left. Once I’m free, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll stop the pain.”
Her hands closed on the leaver and she pulled.
She heard the rusty creak as the bars of the cage were
lifted, and then the soft padded sound of bandaged feet. She felt hands holding
her. She did not feel fangs as they descended; she did not realize she was
dying, and she was happy as the pain faded slowly into darkness. The voice had
kept its promise.
“Stupid mortal,” Magnus muttered, dropping the girl.
He had needed the blood. He sighed half in relief as
his wounds slowly closed up - at least the ones that hadn’t been sowed open
did. He had been caught once again, unable to remember what they did. His mind
had descended into the fog of madness as the creatures had worked on and over
him, only resurfacing when he had been dumped in the cell.
They usually caught him that way, when he let his lust
and needs take over his common sense. He’d hunt the other inmates and the
jailers would hunt him, following the screams, the blood and the smell.
It was cold here now, with the human inmates huddled
together, shivering, their breath clouding up the air.
Looking down, he hissed quietly. The woman’s corpse had started to steam
slightly, vapors rising. Deciding he’d be safer anywhere but here, he moved, slow pained steps as sharp bursts of pain shot up his
legs. Looking down, he sighed at the bruises littering him.
He’d been bruised before, by humans however, and
sometimes by a vampire, when one of his brothers got a little too rough in training
or when a lover got a little too energetic, but never before had he been
bruised like this.
He used to be Vorador’s best fighter until Kain came.
The ashen haired fledgling had taken his title, but surprisingly it didn’t
bother him that much. He’d been quickly renamed Kain’s champion. He hissed
again; that fact alone should have made him more desirable than his brother.
He winced suddenly as a large bruise on his left thigh
made itself extremely known. Some of his past bruises had come from scuffles
with his brothers, others from those he bedded but most of them had come from
battle. It was in a round about and indirect way Kain’s fault that Magnus had
been bruised a lot in battle
His thoughts had never wandered before Kain had
arrived. He’d been focused and sharp; this was the major element of his
success. But then his Lord had come along and his focus went spinning out the
window, taking most of his restraint with it as well.
It didn’t matter whether it was fighting, politics or
any simple everyday task, he was unable to concentrate while that creature
wandered the mansion, so close and yet untouchable. Hell, even his eating
habits had changed, his victims changing from whatever he could find to all
tall, blondes, many of witch he bedded first.
His infatuation became so overwhelmingly powerful that
he had at times wondered if it was love.
Even now he still asked himself the same question.
It couldn’t have bee love, really, it just couldn’t
have . . . it was infatuation, lust, want, but never love. He sighed, knowing
how much it was a lie simply because, if it had infatuation, shouldn’t fucking
him have removed it or at least diminished it? Why was his longing to be with
him now, just as strong as it had been, if not stronger?
Absence makes the heart grow fonder . . . He was
beginning to believe it.
But then it had been wonderful. Even just lying there
afterwards had been wonderful.
Sometime later during the daylight
he woke, blinking at the dull light that seeped in under the tent’s cloth.
Squinting, he rolled over, almost colliding with his lord who shuffled slightly
in his sleep. Ashen hair was starting to tangle on the pillow. Absently, Magnus
started to run his clawed fingers through it, straightening it some.
He shifted uncomfortably. That feeling was back again. His chest
felt tight, as if his lungs were becoming too big for them. That tightness...
He’d begun to link the feeling with Kain, although he didn’t understand what it
meant.
He took a deep and unneeded breath
to try and ease it. It wasn’t really a bodily ailment as it was a strange kind
of emotion, one he couldn’t identify. It
was worse this time, making his stomach feel strange as well, and for some
reason he wanted to cry despite how content he felt just lying here next to
him.
He swallowed and listened to the
slow, easy breathing coming from Kain. It was odd that he still breathed; most
fledglings fell out of the habit quickly. But then again, no one had been there
to teach Kain. He shook his head a little, trying to shake any thoughts away
and simply take comfort that he was still in bed with him.
He smiled slowly; he had half
expected to have been booted out straight after, to make room for Sebastian . .
. where was Sebastian anyway?
It didn’t matter, he was content
just lying here, and no strange thoughts were going to get in the way of that.
He smiled wider when he looked down at himself, finding one of Kain’s ebony
tipped, clawed, hands gripping his hip with a possessiveness he had not
expected. Kain had somehow managed to wind their legs together was well.
Strangely, this contact sent a
little flutter through him and caused the tightness in his chest to intensify
amazingly. He almost gasped for breath as the suddenness of it. What was it
that he felt? There was more than just sexual submission here, or satiation of
lust. There was something more.
A dull glow suddenly appeared in
the darkness, and it took Magnus a second to realise it was coming from Kain’s
eyes. The amber glow was a little unsettling, but it only took a second to get
used to. Kain made a somewhat disgruntled sound and dull confusion lit in the
glow of his eyes.
Magnus felt like he’d been kicked
in the gut as his mind reeled. Oh God, he was wondering why he was here and not
Sebastian! Was he mad? Would he deny what had happened? Why did the thought of
that sting so much?
“You can go back to your own bed,
if you want,” Kain mumbled around a yawn. Magnus sighed in relief and smiled
when the hand on his hip tightened its grip as if in silent request.
“I think I’ll stay,” Magnus
replied.
Kain yawned again, displaying long,
delicate looking fangs before sliding his arm up around his lieutenant’s waist,
pulling him closer. Magnus purred quietly in the back of his throat and rested
his cheek against his Lord’s hard chest, winding his other arm around him to
stroke his back with his claws, making goosebumps rise.
Kain’s breathing levelled out
almost instantly as he easily drifted back off into sleep, yet Magnus lay awake,
one hand playing with the ends of his Lord’s hair while his mind tried
frantically to rationalise the feelings in his chest.
Magnus hissed loudly as one of the blinded prisoners
stumbled into him. His claws flashed out, but he stopped himself before he
struck the now cowering prisoner. He looked at it and it took a moment to
realize that the prisoner was male and rather young, couldn’t be older than
nineteen. His dark hair was tangled beyond redemption and his eyes had been
newly sown shut, the blood still trickling from the corners, like tears.
He kneeled and leaned forward licking the blood trails
away. The man whimpered, but was frozen in place. Magnus sighed and stood.
Taking a step back, he looked to the man before turning and walking on, trying
absently to find somewhere reasonably safe in which to cower before they found
him again.
He was beginning to question the point of it all. He
ran, he hid, they found him, they hurt him, then he
would run again and hide again.
It was all so pointless.
He would hide, and while hiding, he would think.
Thinking was bad; usually his thoughts would go one of two ways, either they
would swirl into madness or sink into his memories. Contemplating the past was
the only real thing to do any more.
He was however grateful for one thing. Here there was
no one to talk with, therefore no one to lie to, no one but himself. Still it had taken years in this
place, years upon years upon years, but finally he had come to terms with what
he had felt and what he still felt even now.
He knew he
couldn’t keep denying this, even to himself. Lying to himself
was pointless and only proved his weakness. Before, when he had been free, he
had continually reminded himself that he lied so that no one would have to be
hurt, so no one would have to suffer, except him.
He had
loved his Lord.
It was not
infatuation; it couldn’t be, it was too powerful.
Surely you wouldn’t offer up your life for someone who you were merely obsessed
with. It had to be love, it just had to.
However,
he had cared for his brother as well; he couldn’t destroy what his brother had
just because he was horny. But he wasn’t just horny he had loved him, that was
why his chest was always so tight, that was why even now two hundred years
later he still thought of him as though it was yesterday and that was why he
had tried to save him. Offering his life, not caring what happened to him if
only HE would live.
But he had
failed
A kick to his jaw sent him reeling,
landing hard against one of the prison walls, missing one of the sharp wall
mounts only by inches.
“You have nothing now, vampire,”
the creature hissed, golden armour glinting in the dull green-ish blue light of
the prison. Strange how the Serefan Lord made it seem even more
green.
Another strike caught him in the
ribs, causing him to spit blood
“Your Lord is dead, killed easily
with my bare hands.” The Serefan Lord laughed, a sound like broken glass on wood, hollow and
bitter.
Golden armoured hands gripped
Magnus’ throat and lifted him, pinning him against the wall. Magnus had never
been this close to the creature before. He swallowed a whimper as its breath
stung his eyes. It was clear now that this . . . thing was no longer human.
Maybe it had been once, but now its
hands held three long fingers, its eyes glowed burning green and its skin was
crusty brown. He felt his stomach jolt with nausea. The thing smiled, showing
one corrugated edge as teeth and obviously enjoying his reaction.
“You should have seen it,” the Serefan Lord continued. “It was so beautiful,” it shuddered
as if enraptured, “the sounds he made, the expression he held when I killed
him.” The creature hissed, pleased. “And now I have your brother.”
Dropping him, the creature turned
and paced away from him.
“I want you to remember how you
felt when I was close to you, what it felt like to have my hand strike you. I
want you to remember it all and know that these hands will be the ones touching
your brother.”
Magnus closed his eyes tightly,
drawing himself up onto his knees, wrapping his arms around himself, preying to
what ever entities were out there that this was not
happening.
“I would have loved to have kept
your ‘Lord’, he would have been so much fun,” The creature laughed. “Such an .
. .interesting plaything, the vampires’ petty rescuer
mine for eternity.” It shuddered again. “But your brother, such a beautifully
twisted creature, jealousy is such a powerful emotion... Powerful enough for
even betrayal of the ones you love.”
“You . . . lie, creature,” Magnus
spat, opening his eyes, unable to stop the bloody tears that fell.
“But I don’t and you know it.” The Serefan lord waved a golden finger at Magnus before aiming
another kick at the vampire’s ribs. “Sebastian, so blinded by rage and sorrow,
came to me, begged me for aid, and I gave it to him. I destroyed the main cause
of his pain, and now I have you at my mercy.” A golden armoured claw struck him
again. He yelped as he felt the right side of his jaw shatter. “Sebastian is in
debited to me and I WILL be taking my payment . . . slowly.”
He had
failed, failed everyone. Now, because of him, his Lord was dead, he was a
prisoner in this hellish place, and Sebastian was at the mercy of that brutish
twisted creature. He pitied Sebastian more. At least his Lord was beyond all
suffering, and he, although suffering at the hands of his jailers, at least
wasn’t anywhere near that hellish creature that lorded over the Serefan.
But
Sebastian... He sighed, shaking his head. Sebastian had gotten the worst deal.
Oh, how
the mighty had fallen.
He entered
a quiet room. No inmates wandered in here, no spiders loomed in the corners, it was quiet. Thankful for that bit of luck, he dug strong
claws into soft rock and clambered ungracefully up the wall, finding a ledge to
perch on. Maybe here he would be safe.
Briefly,
he wondered if Sebastian had a safe place in which to cower.
He had
tried so hard to protect what he loved. Even at the cost of his life. He had
been a willing sacrifice, he would have sacrificed his
life for his brother and his Lord. They were the only two things he cared
enough about not to completely destroy. Yet - the thought pierced him - he may
have already destroyed them by sleeping with his Lord.
A guilty blood tear grew and
swelled, before rolling down Magnus’ cheek and landing silently on his still
sleeping Lord’s chest.
He knew he could never have him
fully. He could have his physical affection, but never . . . him. He understood
that now. Kain loved Sebastian, and it was painfully obvious Sebastian returned
the emotion, but... Magnus swallowed, he loved his Lord as well.
Another blood tear slipped from
him, rolling down his cheek and resting on his Lord’s chest.
Slowly, Magnus rose from the bed,
careful not to wake his Lord. Silently he donned his armour, took one last look
at his Lord and left, heading towards the smell if humans and the Serefan Lord.
He would end this tonight.
End Chapter Two
Authoress Note: a bit short and quiet
uneventful really, I apologise for that. Hopefully the next chapter will have
some kind of lemony substance to it.
Please review.