#killer king BARELY learnt it but he did learn it

[lee-hakhyun]

everyone was able to learn way of the wind except for lee hakhyun LMAO

[son-of-the-omega-blog]

#SL #BlindedByTheDark

Written by @Son_OfThe_Omega and @ToTheGrahve. Mentions @Qhuinn_BDBFM and @Dehstruction.

#TriggerWarning #Abuse #Sexual #GraphicViolence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Grahve: Good behaviour was rewarded. It was the fastest lesson I had to learn. Maybe even faster than I learnt anything from the Brotherhood. After all, they didn’t punish failure with bloody screaming torture. They didn’t rip you down for having a moral compass by murdering innocents.

I still didn’t know that female’s name, and I suspected I never would. Her blood had covered me like a crimson baptism. I couldn’t remember much after it either. I knew there’d been Lash. I knew there’d been pain. I knew I’d wanted to die in her place.

Sitting up on the bed, I put my back to the wall, shifting to place a pillow there to keep the mesh of the cage from cutting into my flesh. Absently, I rubbed at the shackle wounds and scabs around one wrist, then reached for the book off to the side. Setting the book in my lap forced me to look down my bare chest, and the litany of new scars, wounds and bruises made my stomach flip slightly. With a huff I shifted, laying across the bed and propping myself up with one elbow.

The wounds weren’t the only thing. Lash wasn’t a fool by any stretch - in fact, I could admire his cunning, albeit reluctantly. Keeping me alive was clearly an art he’d perfected. Just enough food so I wouldn’t die but couldn’t fight back. Just enough blood to let the worst of his afflictions on my body heal. The result was I’d lost weight. The tattered black sweats I was granted as some semblance of modesty hung dangerously low on my hips, the bones becoming more prominent every day.

Those days had felt impossibly long in the first week. And the second. Each moment of fight back, every snarled curse I’d tried to hurl at him… and for what? The Brothers weren’t coming. They didn’t know where I was. Fuck, they didn’t even know if I was alive. I’d been a nomad before arriving at the compound; me up and vanishing after being rejected by the only two lovers I’d taken probably looked like I’d hit the road. I couldn’t hold out for a rescue that wasn’t coming. And I couldn’t force Lash’s hand to end me either. I’d tried. And every time he’d just gotten more creative in his ways to make me regret it.

Staring at the page for a minute, I gave up trying to read the words and closed my eyes, letting out a sigh. Thinking of Crhis, or Qhuinn, didn’t hurt so much anymore. In the beginning thinking about them had been like a knife wound, another wound that Lash could poke at and hurt. While I hadn’t given them up to him - hadn’t forsaken the last morsels of my morality by betraying them to the demon, I had let whatever other feelings I had die.

There was only so much of me I could keep alive anyway.

‘Another time, another place, you could’ve been /my/ brother.’

My jaw locked at Lash’s voice in my head, at the memory of him sitting beside me to stare out the window as we sipped a beer. Together. It hurt more because some tiny, desperate part of me wanted it. Craved it. Any family I’d had had died long ago. I’d wandered the world alone. Lash musing about how nice it would’ve been to have a real partner, a real ally in the world, tore at some part of me I wanted to cut out and throw away. And yet I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t forget the look on his face, the smile he’d flashed me that had been less malice and more amusement. The fact he’d clicked his bottle to mine, and left me alone that night.

The door burst in, but I didn’t flinch. Instead I opened my eyes and looked up, maintaining my spot on the bed as Lash strolled in, clearly irritated. Anxiety shot through my chest, even as I kept a cool facade. Any sign of weakness and he’d be on me, taking out his frustrations on my body, or in my body. Instead I adopted a drawl as he ripped off his jacket and flung it aside.

“S’matter? Brotherhood finally lift the lockdown and start breaking all your toys again?”

Lash: [The stifling wind ruffled the tails of my coat; even the hideyhole I’d concealed my presence in did little to buffer the weather. Add to that King Wrath, son of Wrath, sire of Wrath, had lifted lockdown protocol. Low growls and curses floated up as the Brotherhood wiped the alley with a half dozen new recruits.

Fucking fools. The only bene that would come from that was I didn’t need to mete out the only punishment they truly feared. Being sent back to the Omega. The Dehstroyer wasn’t among the bulk of the males below, the pack consisting of Tohrment, son of Hharm, Rhage, son of Tohrture and Zsadist, first born son of Aghony, blooded twin to the Primale Phury. Such a cast. The males below moved with astonishing efficiency, the entire encounter from the first sighting to the fading light of the last Lesser being sent back to the Omega lasted less than fifteen minutes.

Movement a block over caught my senses, my scattered molecules ghosted to materialize feet away from one of the last few Primes left in my army and held a hand up.]

Let the fuckers go for now. Meet back here at dusk and don’t fucking disappoint me of you’ll be that fucking purple dragon’s appetizer on your way to the Omega.

[On that snarl and string of curses I chose to ignore from the lead male, I ghosted back to the warehouse. I was pissed to say the very least, but the thought of the trainee still chained up waiting for me eased my mood only a little. The male proved worthy enough of keeping alive despite his efforts to try and force me to end him. While that had been my ultimate plan, he had earned a grudging piece of respect in that will of his just prior to his breaking.

Materializing back at the warehouse hadn’t done much to calm down the fury that still boiled beneath the surface of my thinly veiled control, the door slamming closed didn’t even elicit a jump from the trainee on the bed across the room. He’d learned early on that quick moves brought swifter interception. Throwing my jacket into a chair with a low growl, I pinned the male with a look that said I wasn’t in the mood to fuck with at the point of his words. Truthfully, yeah, the fuckers did. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.]

Matter of fact, it seems King Wrath set the whole bunch loose on my troops. And wiped the alley with them. Fucking pathetic wastes of skin.

[Pacing toward the work table, I picked up a long bladed knife when I paused, the thin metal honed sharper than a scalpel, glinting in the light.]

Six of them gone just like that. As fast as the Omega can crank them out, the fucking Brothers take them out. [Looking over my shoulder at the male, I could scent his anxiety, and a minute hint of fear. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the way he’d squirmed and screamed, begged for the life of others with his own in their place. But the now, I was the slightest disappointed. Just the slightest. Slowly setting the blade down and turning, with a firm grip on my spontaneous desire to hurt, I walked over to the cage and with a flick of a key, unlocked the door, letting it swing open.]

Grahve: The open door was a test in itself, and one I’d learned to pass. Rather than eye it like the gateway to freedom I knew it wasn’t, I instead closed the book, sat up and swung my legs off the side of the bed. There I remained, hands loose in my lap, until Lash indicated otherwise. Thankfully, there was no steel collar in his hand - but the night was young. I had to play my cards carefully.

“I could point out that that was the reason for this war, wasn’t it? Besides, the Brothers have had centuries to perfect the art of being a killer or a soldier,” I point out calmly, watching him. “Whereas you only had a few weeks of their lockdown to do it with your… troops.”

Word used very loosely there. Lash’s Lessers (say that five times fast) were about as capable as a headless chicken, with the upside for the chicken that it would at least smell good once it was cooked.

Finally tearing my gaze away from the male, I let my mind consider who, realistically, could pose a threat to the Brotherhood. Lessers gained strength by handing over their souls to the Omega, but if you didn’t know how to use strength, you were fucking useless, just really strong about it.

“There’s almost something to be said for narrowing the field of humans,” I muttered to myself, then realised I’d spoken aloud. Regret flared, immediate and sharp, but Lash’s eyes had narrowed on me now, clearly curious, and I couldn’t pull back. To do so would be to incite his wrath, and I’d barely healed enough from the last beating. Another round of torture and the demon spawn would be bringing another female in. I had to heal on my own, or someone would pay the price for me...

“Picking drug dealers and street thugs gives you pawns on a chessboard, but pawns are only good for one thing; sacrifice. You need Bishops. Rooks. Knights.”

I held off saying ‘Queen’. Cause barf. If it was true that Lash was hung up on having that Lassiter back here too, then I could just about picture that poor angelic fuck being some equivalent of a queen too. He had enough glitter and sparkles for it. I actually missed the shit…

“Why not take your sights higher?” I continue, every word tasting like bile in my mouth as I forced them out. “Imagine politicians, senators, businessmen. What was it they said about human CEO’s? Half of them are borderline psychopaths already? Imagine giving them power. Immortality. Then they give you money. Men. Or prison wardens,” I add, trying my hardest not to clench my hands into fists. “They can then refer more pawns. More options that aren’t just… cannon fodder.”

Scribe, forgive me. Please forgive me…

Lash: [Casually watching the male, I didn’t miss the fact that he’d learned well. He didn’t bolt as he had the first handful of times I’d left the door open, in fact, he waited properly. Like a good pet. That wasn’t all that caught my attention. The seed he’d planted made sense if I could cultivate it to my own needs.

Humans were needed for the Omega to turn into Lessers, that was a given. Generally, /any/ human would do. But those that had a propensity to more questionable morals, no family to speak of, were full of evil and vindictiveness, /those/ were the ones that made more desirable lessers. Less mess in the human world to deal with such as ‘missing person’ reports and human law enforcement poking their noses where it didn’t belong. Not that I had issues with dispatching my own clean up crews to deal, it was just more convenient.]

Prison wardens, huh. [If the crap spewed on TV even remotely portrayed that class of rat adequately, then I had a new solid lead on replenishing my troops. Tossing the male a slow grin and a nod, a flick of a few fingers, his cue that he was given permission to get up and move about freely, I turned and walked to the small refrigerator.

Being half Lesser didn’t mean I couldn’t eat, but I saw no need to withhold nourishment from my pet for a good idea. Keeping the small unit stocked still miffed the Lessers assigned to the duty, but no less derelict in their choices. Removing two bottles of beer and a plate that held a decent meal of meat and vegetables, I set one bottle and the plate on the makeshift table, the other I twisted the top off and downed a swallow. The male moved slowly, but I could see the hunger in his body, the way he moved. And it wasn’t just for food.

Facing facts, the male was going to have to have another feed soon. His clothing hung off him like tattered rags. If this idea of Grahve’s panned out, I’d reward him with something that was fitting for a male of his worth. Sending a Prime squad out for a female would be priority.]

So. Where’s the nearest human prison?

Grahve: Leaving the cage felt like I was a bird finally allowed to stretch my wings. It felt like breathing again after spending hours holding my breath. Shuffling over to the table, I sat before the meal and took my time taking up the fork, even as my stomach snarled. At Lash’s question I glanced sideways at the male, brutally aware of how he watched me.

“Upstate, I believe,” I answered automatically. Sure, I’d probably been the one vampire in the whole manse that had chosen to live among humans, but that didn’t mean I kept track of where they were incarcerated. Like, c’mon…

Taking several mouthfuls, I chewed slowly to savor it, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t see it again soon and could, in fact, digest something. When I felt the monster that’d been growling in my stomach was distracted enough by the morsels it could munch on, I grabbed the beer and took a long, generous swig.

Fuck me that was brilliant. Honestly, when you were living on scraps and from moment to moment, every single thing became so much more. One beer was god damn ambrosia.

“Having authority figures on your team within the system would mean they could notify you as inmates are going to be released, or even intervene on sentence lengths and commuting sentences if they want them out early,” I continue, pushing a bit of meat around with the fork then piercing it to put it to my lips.

The idea that Lash had essentially got me dinner and a drink like this was a date passed through my stupid and sarcastic brain, and I shoved it away. Besides, it wasn’t like I could say ‘no’ if Lash got me drunk and stuck his hand up my skirt. The male was going to take whatever he wanted from me. Just like he already had…

“The Brotherhood expects you to be in places like this,” I said instead, turning my head to watch him. “Imagine if you had a benefactor that could put you in a high rise? A condo? Somewhere the Brothers would never expect and letting you live the luxury life you deserve?”

Lash: Upstate. [I repeated, toying with the bottle as I watched the male intently consume his food. He had manners worthy of sitting at any table, even with his shabby clothes and scruffy beard growing in he still made quite a good looking piece. Yes, the male was definitely due a good feeding. Maybe this female would last longer than a few days before another was needed. It had been at least a week since the last one was brought in, fewer of the weaker sex were tracked alone between clubs and their homes. Time to step up the hunt for blood, and in that end a good fucking.

In the meantime, I was quite eager to work on this idea that Grahve had set to my mind.]

Sounds very lucrative, and highly promising. To hide right under the Brotherhood’s noses and they be none the wiser. So tell me. [Leaning forward, elbows on my knees and eyes fully on the male, I was cataloging every move he made from here until I was satisfied, and took another drink from my bottle.]

How do you know all this, how the human’s authority system works? How do I know you’re not just feeding me a few good sounding lines so I’ll send a squad on a wild chase that will end in a trap? [It occured to me that while the idea was definitely appealing, it also held the lurking questionable danger that the Brotherhood would be there, set up to ambush the squadron. If that held true, Grahve would be sent back to Wrath in pieces, each part gift wrapped and addressed to the children. Gifts from the glymera to their wellbeing.

But, in the chance that what the trainee was saying bore fruit, he would live longer, and maybe even be partially inducted as the once human Brian O’Neil. Either way, Grahve was mine to do with as I pleased.]

Grahve: The panic I had worked so hard to hide reared its head at Lash’s question; at the implication I was setting him or his minions up for an ass whooping. The fork clattered to the plate as my hand shook, and I clenched it into a fist to control the tremor. Somehow keeping my voice even, I spoke.

“I lived among humans. For over fifty years. I trained with their masters, their best. I know how they function, what they like.” I looked to Lash now, and I hated that he would see the fear in my eyes, but it was there, and I couldn’t stop it. “And I wouldn’t feed you anything. I have no contact with the Brotherhood now. How would they know? And why would I give you a reason to…”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence, because I was sure both of us were thinking of /exactly/ what Lash could do to me if I lied or deceived him. The fact I held out on giving up more information on the Brothers or Qhuinn and Crhis was no doubt a sore point he hoped to remedy as soon as I was physically able to withstand it and not die. In the meantime, he made a point of finding other ways, and he was creative.

In my younger, more naive years, I’d thought I could survive or withstand anything. I’d never be broken. I’d never surrender. I would /die/ before I became something I hated. Turns out pain is a great motivator for just about anything. Being broken by Lash… was never something I could have anticipated, and as each piece of my soul was sold to him, I realised I had no idea who I was, or what I could withstand.

Dropping my head in a bow, like a bad fucking dog, I closed my eyes.

“I have not lied. Did you smell a lie on me?” I whispered. “I will do as you ask.”

Lash: Good boy. [Grahve spoke the truth as he knew it; he neither smelled of lie or deceit, but I still needed to feel him out all the same. Even if his reaction was indicative of a lie, there was absolutely nothing I sensed that told me otherwise.]

I figured you would do as I asked. But I needed to be sure in asking, you understand. [Had I sensed a lie coming off the male, he’d have at least enjoyed his last First Meal.

The new building had a similar set up last the last persuasion center, the usual tables, benches and work spaces. And the remote skylight, with one little detail adjusted. I could will it open as easily as I could turn off lights with hardly a thought. Four deep set posts appeared only as stabilizing columns, that doubled as a four post rack. A body would be strung from all four corners by long cables just under the roof’s opening, which was angled to catch the first of the sun’s rays. And if the weatherman couldn’t get the forecast correct, large mirrors were erected in strategic spots around the main space in the event cloud cover was an issue. Just open the skylight, let the sun shine in, bounce a few beams around like a dancefloor party and, poof! Clean up would be a breeze.

Leaning back in my chair, fingers toying with the bottle in my hand, I gave more thought to the idea of hiding in plain sight. It would certainly help with bringing in females to feed the trainee, less distance to move them, and more opportunities to watch the Brotherhood, engage from a shorter distance with the males being none the wiser. And didn’t that give me a hard on. A chance to take those fuckers out was that much closer.]

Finish eating, you’re going to need your strength. [Tipping the bottle to my lips and taking a long drink, I watched the male’s reaction. Relief. Shock that I believed him. Wary that I didn’t beat him with his fork or fuck him into submission. Though the latter I’d do just for the sheer enjoyment.]

Grahve: My relief was short lived. The phrase ‘need your strength’ sapped at my will to live and any appetite I’d had left. But he wasn’t kidding. If I didn’t eat it now, it’d probably be pureed into a mix that could be put in an IV, threaded through my nose and down my throat. Ask me how I know. I dare you.

Forcing myself to take the last mouthfuls and chew slowly, savoring this moment before whatever hell had to come next, I finally swallowed and sat back. Reaching for what was left of the beer, I felt no measure of pride that my hand didn’t shake. It had in the beginning, but now it wasn’t courage or bravery that held me steadfast - it was the knowledge that nothing I did would change it, and there was no escaping it. What level was that in the stages of grief? Acceptance?

Downing the bottle, I put it beside the empty plate and rose from the chair, turning to face Lash and wait. His eyes ran over me, examining his last marks, looking for where to make new ones. When his eyes ghosted over the dangerously low waistline of the sweats, the jut of my hip bones, I knew he was considering me naked.

What did it mean when I could anticipate the look on his face with the kind of pain, humiliation or torture that would come next? I knew people that played cards had a tell, so maybe expert torturers did too.

“...what do you want, sunshine?” I asked tiredly, glancing down at myself. “What’s it gonna be today?”

Lash: What’s it to be, what’s my choice of the night… I think.. [Lustful eyes glanced over the male with dark interest, a deeper hunger of my own boiled under the surface, a near insatiable hunger that I’d not deny myself, just not yet. I’d branded this male in ways he never thought possible, each scar a visual reminder that I owned him, and with good behavior, he’d been guardedly rewarded.]

Why do you protect them? They haven’t come looking for you, I’d have eyes and ears all over Caldwell, yet not a peep from the Brotherhood. [The big burning question had yet to be answered, kudos to the trainee for keeping such a tight lid on the info.

That information I needed, it was vital in a way to hit the Brotherhood where it counted most: their hearts. Hit the heart and weaken it, then the rest was easy pickings. And what better way to shred a male’s heart than to target the one person, or persons as in the case of Wrath, his shellan and his only heir, that said male would give his life to protect at all costs. Take loved ones out of the equation and everything else crumbled. Just look at what my little shopping trip with the Queen brought on. And that was just a test.

Two fingers gripping the neck of the bottle tipped it to my lips, the less-than ice cold amber liquid sliding down my throat without a taste, eyes never leaving the male in front of me.]

You chose me that night when you sought to ease your wounded heart, not one of them. So why not choose me now?

Grahve: I felt my lips part in stunned surprise. Of all the questions, all the interrogations, I’d never expected that. Choose Lash?

My gaze slid away from him, like I could hide the myriad of emotions running through me, but it was one of the few defense mechanisms I had left. His observation that the Brotherhood hadn’t looked for me, hadn’t cared enough to try and find me, struck at my core. I thought of Crhis, of standing beside him in battle and lying beneath him on a bed. I thought of Qhuinn, dropping down in an alley after I’d dispatched Lessers and bringing me into the Brotherhood, kissing me. I thought of every Brother, of Doc Jane and hell, even fucking Murhder, and it /hurt/. A chasm opened up in my chest where I’d put those new feelings, those new loves and admirations and friendships, and it ached.

They hadn’t looked for me. Had they even cared? Could Lash ever replace that? Ever fill the void that existed now that I’d known those emotions?

Clenching my jaw, I closed my eyes.

“I chose Ahrmour. I chose a male that was a flirt and kind and… and not a fucking demon,” I managed, drawing a ragged breath in through my nose. “I was looking for someone that wasn’t going to hurt me…” I actually let out a snort, my laugh bitter. “Look how fucking well that worked out for me…”

Lash: [Here it came. The tide of emotions the male carried with him made him sway in his shackles. In a lightning quick move with no warning, I stood and pulled the male against me, caging his thin frame in my arms. Hindbrain said he was dangerously thin, I felt his bones jutting from under his skin as I pressed him to me. Keeping him weak was beneficial for the both of us; he wasn’t strong enough to fight his way free, and that in turn kept him alive.]

Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t born this way. [Nor did I have a choice with what the Omega turned me into. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other when it occurred, I was just as eager to put a blade in Qhuinn’s chest now as he did to me back then. All for a damn joke that mute John Mathew took too fucking seriously. Qhuinn was the one who needed putting down, even the glymera had failed at that attempt.

The cyclone of emotions Grahve kept locked down lurked under the surface, his grunt of surprise and tensing muscles gleaned of fear and wariness, filling my nose with their telltale scents.]

Grahve: I didn’t fight the lock of Lash’s embrace; it was the only warmth I knew anymore. There was nothing cruel or painful in it either, other than the fact it wasn’t who I wished was holding me. I stood in the brace of his arms and felt my body lean into him, against him, some pathetic part of me grateful for the support.

It was true - he hadn’t been born the way he was now. He’d been broken and shaped, same as any weapon, as any tool. A part of me sympathized with that. When forged in fire and blood most things ended up lethal and dangerous. But there was always choice.

“And if I say no… again…” I whispered, dropping my forehead until it rested on the curve of his shoulder, “will you hurt me… again? You’re making your choices… and I made mine…”

I’d chosen the Brotherhood. I’d chosen to fight for the race and protect people. Even if I couldn’t do that anymore, even if I was helpless to do nothing else but suffer and die, I could hold on to that. To the idea.

“What do you want from me, Lash?”

Lash: [No verbal answer would satisfy either of us, and as it was in the moment, my desire to hurt and kill was admonishingly overwhelmed by another more basic need. Lips brushed the column of his neck from ear to base, hands spreading fingers wide to devour a meal of touch that was wasn't full of fight. Yet.

Shifting gears and turning the pair of us to back step by step until the the male was within inches of the bed he'd been given; Grahve knew better than to resist, though I'd have had no problem had he been unwilling. Hands tore at his pants, my fangs, teeth and lips now scraping along the male's flesh as the growing scent of arousal thickened the air.]

Grahve: His lips were gentle. His hands were gentle. And far be it for me to complain when I knew what the alternative was. I could resist all I liked, but it wouldn’t change anything other than how broken I’d feel after. Maybe, just maybe, I could pretend the fangs grazing my skin belonged to Ahrmour, the bright eyed, sassy male I’d met at that bar. Maybe then I wouldn’t hate myself for the way my body reacted, the way a part of me yearned for something as simple as a kind caress.

As the pants were ripped away to leave me bare, and with the bed behind me, I lifted my head to look at Ahrmour. He was all energy and arousal and need, and I let myself be swept away in that as my hands stroked up under his shirt, shackles clinking as I ran them across the smooth, taut flesh. I kissed him if he wanted to be kissed, I touched him only when he wanted to be touched.

I could feel my body growing hard with every kiss, every lick and nip of his fangs. My own fangs slid down as I groaned softly, half dropping back onto the bed and staring up at him, waiting.

Lash: [Fangs long and throbbing with hunger, I glanced down at the display before me: male worthy of feasting on spread below, ready, nacht, /willing/ to bed a viper. Willing the cage door closed and the thick shackles unlocked, the metal sheaths dropping with a thick metal-to-concrete sound to leave the male completely unencumbered, the tingle of the male’s touch still echoing through my every nerve. The immediate image of the male laying out under me, those dark eyes of his filled with utter devotion of free will, however grudgingly, with a collar of shiny steel filled my mind. And made me harder than I’d been since juicing up on Angel blood.

I could see this male, in a haze of a possible future moment, fighting beside me against the Brotherhood. The same males that, ironically, did not come looking for one of their own. Gripping Gravhe’s thighs and pulling him to the edge of the bed, I lent over him and took his mouth in a heated, messy lip lock as my hands pushed his thighs up and wide. The tip of my hard cock brushed against the underside of his, probing along his rim as I caged the male under me, my hips shunting for a brief moment until finding home and sinking balls deep.

Fangs dig into his lip and tongue as my hips pounded hard into his. I could keep this male, bring him into the fold and use his years of experience among the humans to my advantage in destroying the Brotherhood. My hand slid between us to wrap around his cock, tugging in strokes designed to bring the male as much pleasure as did the idea I could make him fully mine.]

Grahve: The shackles clicked and fell away, the last article of ‘clothing’ I’d been wearing gone to leave me totally bare for the male above. I barely noticed the cage door close behind him, too intent on the feel of his hands as he seized my hips to pull me forward. The kiss was hot and wet, and I battled his tongue with my own even as his cock pressed against me, then into me.

I gasped into his mouth at the intrusion, the hardness of him and the sudden stretch and tear of my body. There was a twinge of pain, then the wash of pleasure as he moved. The relief that ran through me was almost as sweet; the proof that this wasn’t about torture or hurt in the stroke of his hands, the lick of his tongue.

This was a reward, my mind supplied, my eyes locking with Ahrmour’s as he moved inside me, the head of his cock brushing against that bundle of nerves and making me gasp, moan. Without shackles my hands moved to clutch at his back, my nails half biting into the strong wings of his shoulder blades as he rode me harder, faster.

There was another kiss and I tasted blood, his fang nicking my lip. The smell only seemed to heighten the moment, my own length impossibly hard in his hand as he pumped me in time with every thrust. I whimpered as the pressure inside me built toward a crescendo, some pathetic, miserable part of me /grateful/ for the pleasure if it meant there was no pain.

Lash: [The look of adoration, the sounds the male was making under me, was a boost to my ego after the failed night out hunting the Brotherhood. Taking the male, as I often felt the need to, was something I saved for. Other captives that had been housed herein, I had no desire to fuck. Fuck /with/ and torture, yes. But getting this male to bend and break had been easier than I thought, and with the intel he provided earlier, it would make keeping him alive and healthy a benefit I needed to keep.

Breaking from his mouth, my fangs drug a path down the column of his throat, each pounding thrust into the male’s ass cementing my growing plan. The lingering taste of his blood and the raking of his nails down my back fueled everything right now; the need to make him cum, the need to mark him inside and out with bites and my own scent, the need to keep him mine and keep him willingly obeying me was driving every move. Growling darkly, my hand kept steady pace with each impaling punch of my hips, urging the male to come undone beneath me.

Not something I was used to commanding of others, the mental grasp that this male needed the release tickled the knowledge that it would serve to increase the pliability of his willingness. And lock his devotion to me.]

Cum for me, Grahve. [Words purred in a panting growl as I worked the male, my own balls burning and aching from being unaccustomed to holding back and filling my spine with a raw tingling sensation I’d not felt since my transition.]

Grahve: My back bowed off the bed as one hard thrust pushed me closer to the edge, a starburst of pleasure going off that filled me up and had me panting, moaning. This pleasure was so much more exquisite with the knowledge it could have easily been pain, and having known great agony now, great suffering, it seemed fair that this was ecstasy.

As my nails dragged at him, my fingers clutching for purchase, his words penetrated the haze. Ahrmour had given me permission, wanted my release. I looked up into his eyes and saw no guile, no lie, only need. The need to see me satisfied and satiated. The desire for ‘me’.

I stopped holding on, relaxing those last muscles that had clung to self control and kept me from teetering into a climax. Which came with his next thrust, the head of his cock nailing my prostate and launching me into another fucking world.

I cried out, back arching, cock throbbing as thick, hot spurts of cum released over his hand onto my stomach. My body clenched around him, my vision fading as I rode the wave into a bliss I rarely knew any more.

Lash: [The heat of his release, the pulsing jerk of his cock in my hand as he spilled his cum triggered my own barely held-back orgasm. The pace I’d maintained became furious and raw with primal need, the bone jarring slap of skin on skin echoing only slightly louder than the groans, grunts, and the growled curses that colored the air added to the scent of my marking Grahve.

A final driving thrust in, my head tipped back with a roar and my balls released, coating the male deep with my scent. It didn’t matter that I’d not “bonded” with him, he’d smell like me regardless of that ancient act. Chest heaving with each breath, my body oddly trembling with postcoital aftershocks and the occasional hip jerk as the waning waves of pleasure rocked through me. I dropped low to cage the body under me and brushed a faint whisper of a kiss to the male’s mouth and grinned breathlessly.]

I want you to fight by my side.

Grahve: Ahrmour’s release filled me, his body hunched over mine as he slowed and finally stilled inside me. Every breath was a shallow pant as the high faded, my hands lightly stroking at his back in an absent fashion - a small affection that didn’t seem out of place in the moment. The brush of his lips to mine earned a faint smile, my eyes half closed as I basked in the afterglow.

‘Fight by my side…’

The words took a second to register, and my eyes opened fully as they did. I stared up at him, at Ahrmour, only… it wasn’t Ahrmour. And despite the fading glow of the orgasm colouring my view of this tiny caged world, it wasn’t the only other lovers I’d taken since coming here either. It wasn’t Qhuinn and his quick smile, his dual coloured eyes. It wasn’t Crhis and his protectiveness, his sarcasm and humour.

It was Lash. Lash, who’d do anything to hurt them. To end them. Lash, who had ripped away parts of me that were beyond redemption or salvation. Lash, who hurt me just as often if not more than he cared for me. And while I wanted to believe the look in his eyes, the idea that I could stand at his side and never feel his wrath again, I knew it to be a lie.

‘Better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path’? Sure, but that was only if you weren’t leaving others to be consumed in that fiery path as well.

I shocked myself with the fact I wanted to want him. I wanted to help him. But I couldn’t help him hurt them. As much of me was shaped by them as it now was by him.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, and a part of me truly meant it. “But I would rather see myself dead than betray Qhuinn or the others to the fate you have consigned to them.”

Lash: [Grahve’s words sliced through the miazma I’d allowed in so short a time to fill my desire to destroy the Brotherhood, pissing me off instantly. All that had happened in the last few hours faded, all the gratitude I’d felt, the twinges of all the ‘feel-good’ vibes? Vanished in less than a heartbeat.

A deadly growl replaced my gorged, sated state as I gripped the male’s face with both hands, fangs bared in lethal rage, smoky gray eyes locked on his, the trainee’s widened with shock.]

You will be sorry, sorry you can’t watch those you love die by my hand one by one! And to think I had great plans for you...

[The gall this male had to deny what only I could offer him, just to ‘save’ those who couldn’t be put off enough to even organize a search party for the trainee. No skin off my nose, as it were. But for the male below me to flaunt it after all this time? How stupid.

Hand shaking, I ignored the male’s gasp of surprise as the thick musk of his fear perfumed the air, his body beginning to jerk under me as he grabbed my wrists. Nails dug into my flesh the harder I squeezed but I neither felt it nor would I let go had I the inkling. No. This male didn’t want to watch me take down the Brotherhood?

His screams mixed with the scents of sex, blood pungent fear, the skin giving way to the tender tissues underneath the hard pressure of my thumbs. Another idea formed, and my sadistic side took over.]

You don’t want to watch? [The shriek of pain and flailing of the male under me scored points as his eyes bulged, bloodied and messy down the side of his face. Laughter scorched the air as I leaned back, plucking both eyeballs out with a sucking, flesh-tearing sound.]

Now you don’t have to.

#BondedBrothers #BlindedByTheDark

[fledgeling-heroes-r-us]

Side Swapper Introduction: Shadow Weaver

Introduction Name: Daesii Ta’arkin Soelle Also Known As: Tarquin Soul (originally by Cynthia, later his human world alias and preferred name), Tarq Age: 17 Birthday: January 28th Species: Hybrid. Half shadow meister, half feldarhl Blood Type: Unknown Astrological Sign: Aquarius Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Past/Bio: Tarquin was born as the second son of Crothe, king of a dimension named Death Valley, and his second wife. The two were forced to marry and produce a child by the kingdom's council, in an attempt to strengthen the meister species as it suffered from plague. As he was an unwanted child, he sometimes found it difficult to bond with his parents, and bonded better with his father and his brother's mother than he did his own mother, though this was likely primarily due to the fact that the valley was having an extreme negative impact on his mother's mental state. Having the ability to sense life and death, and considering the poor state of his kingdom, Tarquin also found life in the valley to be emotionally damaging to him, despite the fact that he knew nothing else. Being royalty in a time of unrest, Tarquin and his family were targets of abduction and assassination attempts, and when the culprits were caught they were often tortured for information and then executed publicly, things Tarquin either witnessed first hand or was aware of anyway due to his sensory abilities. As he ended up being susceptible to the plague sweeping his home dimension, Tarquin was often kept isolated, only allowed to see his tutor and parents at set times of the day, though his elder brother often broke isolation to see him. When he was seven, his older brother told him about the stories his human mother had told him of her home, and how it sounded like a paradise, and how shadow meisters could open rifts to that world. Okolio, the elder brother, took Tarquin to this world to start a new life, as both of them found the valley to be a disturbing and scary place. Earth honestly wasn't that much better for them, being a loud, bright and confusing place with overwhelming sensory input, and, being children, they clearly hadn't thought things through and had to go from living in a palace as royalty to trying to survive on the streets. Eventually, their behaviour on the streets and their abnormal appearances had them catching the attention of others, specifically three other super powered youths, around the age of Okolio. Two of these three teenagers, Nolan and Edward, wanted to become vigilante heroes for reasons Tarquin never really understood, and convinced the other three boys to join them in their dumb hero work. The team even was vaguely successful, for a group of stupid kids playing hero. They did actually stop a few crimes here and there. This all ended when a pro hero by the name of Greenfield slaughtered Okolio during one of the kids' 'missions'. Unable to do anything but bear witness to the murder, Tarquin began to think about tracking down the man who killed his brother and getting revenge. The others in his team were unable to get him to come away from this new obsession, and the team as a whole began to come apart at the seams. Eventually, during a particularly nasty argument, Tarquin lost control of his powers, causing severe injury to the self-appointed team leader, Edward. He later died from his injuries, and Tarquin fled. He later joined a school claiming to aid those with powers, hoping to learn to control them. This is where he had his first encounter with the heroes, who had infiltrated the school after a tip off that the school was actually a cover for a group wishing to capture subjects for experimentation, similar to if not the same as the facilities that held Luca or Ruby Dagger. Tarquin himself never learnt their plans, and wasn't at all interested in the deeper secrets of the organisation. He was just there to learn to control his powers. When the chaos kicked off, rather than lend anyone a hand, he used his powers to make a getaway. From that point on, his clashes with the heroes tended to be as a result of him causing trouble, either due to poor power control, committing crimes to survive or as part of his drive to track down Greenfield. Plus, he just now generally had a petty dislike of heroes, so he liked causing them trouble. When he finally did manage to track down his brother's killer, he found himself very ill equip to deal with him or take him down, and came away from the resulting fight badly injured. In moments, it seemed like everything had changed, as Greenfield put a bounty on his head in the underworld and he found himself being hunted. Injured, starving and scared, with nowhere to turn to, in desperation he fled to Circle Headquarters to beg for help. Being good people at their core, the heroes agreed to help him. In time, he agreed to help save others again, and was drafted into a new hero team, where the other heroes on his team could watch over him and make sure he behaves. About Him/Her Personality: Tarquin is a quiet person who finds it difficult to trust others. He wants to see the good in people, but is so used to people baring their worst that it is difficult to see past that. He has low self-esteem due to his poor health and lack of control, and never truly learnt how to deal with his emotions. His powers make him quite sensitive and he finds he is easily upset. Regardless of this, due to his shy nature and lack of trust towards others, Tarquin prefers not to burden others with his concerns or worries, and tries to keep himself to himself. He finds himself often thinking along one train of thought in an almost obsessive nature, and struggles to change focus. Occupation: Hero, crown prince of Death Valley Likes: Shiny things The dark Picture books Plants and animals Photographs and the memories they hold Dislikes: Greasy food Loud and chaotic environments People who try and pry into his personal life Sweet food and smells Himself, probably Hobbies: Sightseeing, learning new things Fears: Death, mostly. Also one time Nolan showed him what Pokemon are. He finds them terrifying and is glad they are only fictional. Due to all the death he sensed at hospitals in his home dimension, he also finds being in and around medical buildings and rooms makes him very uncomfortable. Strength: Tarquin knows his limits well and knows when he can and cannot push himself. His sensory abilities help with stealth and allow him to avoid detection. Weakness: Tends not to mention important information, such as dietary requirements, which leads to his poor health. His inability to trust others causes problems of its own, as does his obsessive personality. He also has poor control over his own powers, which can easily cause him to accidentally harm his own allies. Talents: Tarquin isn't sure what his individual talents are. He's sure everyone has a talent or two, but no-one's ever called him talented for anything involving not using his powers. Appearance Height: 6'3 Cup Size: N/A Skin Tone: Powder blue Eye Color: Blue Hair Description: - Color: Black - Highlights: N/A - Length: Shoulder length - Style: Shaggy, unkempt - Worn: Loose Extra: - Scars: Tarquin's scars are mostly across his arms and torso, and so are most commonly covered by clothing. - Piercings: Nasal stud on the left side. - Tattoos: N/A - Facial Features: As a carnivore, his teeth are very different to those of a human. If they were to be compared to an animal, they would be most like those of a feline. - Scent: Well, his breath probably smells a bit vomity...otherwise I don't normally think about what my characters might smell like. Whatever the others wash his clothes in and whatever body washes are available, tbh, he doesn't care. Then again, tea tree and mint shampoo has a really nice smell to it in his opinion, so maybe that. - Other: Underweight, black claw-like nails. Relationships Father: Crothe Mother: Noth Siblings: An older half-brother named Okolio, and a younger half-sister named Viahar Relatives: Step-mothers Cynthia and Han-Linn Best Friends: Unsure. He supposes he would consider Whisper and Hex to be his closest friends at the moment. He also is very fond of Persephone. Friends: The other members of his team, certainly. Love Interest: Whisper, Persephone (formerly), Lolyo (formerly) Hero Information Code/Hero Name: Shadow Weaver Place of Origin: Death Valley, Shadow Dimension Residence: Australia Affiliations:  Teen Titans, Circle, Hellwing Academy Team Mates: Whisper, Hex, Crayon, Zhen, Astral, Shard, Beacon, Luca (current team) Leo, Lolyo, Demon, Edward (Old team) Mentors: Potentially the members of his previous team would count, as well as the members of his current team. Allies: Circle and Squad. His allies as a villain are probably all gone now. Enemies: The main one is probably Greenfield. He's also pretty sure Nolan has been manipulating him for ages and he's also just made loads of enemies in general. Powers and Abilities: Flight, shadow manipulation, electrokinesis, the ability to open rifts between worlds and the ability to sense lifeforms, but not identify them - for instance, he could tell you a building is occupied, but not if it's occupied by people or vermin. His ability to sense life also doubles as an ability to sense the moment of death. Weapons: None Transportation: Prefers to travel on foot or via his powers, but will travel by vehicles if he must. Extra Information Quotes: "I can't trust them not to hurt you...that's the problem." "We don't need subtle!" Theme Song: Never Turn Back - Crush 40 Food: Beef, beef is good Drink: Plain water Color: Baby blue Animal: Birds Flower: Imperial Hysen, a flower native to his home world. They are a rare, large plant that grow few and far between. Their leaves are small, and of a very pale green colour, and the flowers that grow are large and can come in dark pink or powder blue with layered petals. Season: Spring

[fucked-up-cinnamon-rolls]

Alternative Universe - Reversed

This AU has triggering subjects. Also, this is the AU/Verse that one of my (hopefully) future RP blogs (because I want more of these fuckers) will be in. Under a cut because LENGTH.

Mehmun - Bad

All of his life, people close to him died. It became a habit, he did not expect anyone close to him to live - and they never did. When he was twenty four, he was the killer of the love of his life - he saw little wrong with this, it would have been more painful if she'd died another way.

And talking about how painful it was - it wasn't. It was thrilling. It was then he got a love for murder, for it filled the adult with glee as he chose who lived and died - very few lived.

The majority of his family and friends died at his hands, including his father-in-law, uncle, younger cousin... and his own daughter. He took it up as a career, using his sorcery to enhance his skills. He has no motive, no pattern. Mehmun kills when he feels like it.

And Mehmun always feels like it.

Zlatko - Bad

He had a younger brother to protect - well, the brother was in no way related to him - and he would go to any lengths to protect the boy. When his brother fell ill, Zlatko had to save him. But the treatment that could save him wasn't cheap.

He began to sell illegal items, such as cocaine, faulty or fake appliances, like lamps that would explode after a few uses, weapons, you name it, he sold it. Alas, despite being able to afford the treatment, it was too late.

His brother died. Going into a depressive state, he began to use some of the things he would sell, just to push away the pain - but, even when the boy was 'brought back to life' by the demon that had been possessing him, he only continued to use them, truly addicted.

He will do anything for his little brother. Even if it resorts to ending lives.

Aerron - Good

Aerron is free from Damien's clutches. He's getting used to normal life now, having to learn things he should have learnt during his time being possessed by Damien, like cooking, anything learnt in school after being twelve years old, how to socialise with other humans, etc.

He's a free man, but after having his mind invaded by a supernatural being, he's not without suffering just yet. The effects that it had on him are mostly mental and emotional scars, though some are physical.

Aerron avoids going to places he went to when possessed by the demon, even if they held good memories. Of course, there is the verse where he never met Damien - he has a degree in Drama, a boyfriend he met when fifteen and is on his way to becoming an actor.

It's funny just how one mistake as a child can change your life's path.

Klara - Bad

She and her father had been on a boat, leaving the island where her mother and grandfather had been killed - she was ten at the time, and hadn't put the pieces together. But it was on that boat trip she did - she didn't find out whilst living, however.

Klara found out as her father drove a knife into her neck. He cremated her on the boat, but left the knife that killed her somewhere hidden on the boat, and now she haunts it, tied to the knife.

Well, she did haunt it, until someone found and took the knife home with them. Wherever the knife goes, she goes. Despite being killed aged ten, she can change her appearance - she goes with a fifteen year old image. The only thing she wants - her father's head.

But she can't do that alone - she needs your (muse's) help.

Eban - Bad

He was taken in by Zlatko (and thus, his mother) and became the younger brother of the cyborg, though at times it did get stressful for the three of them, seeing as Eban is possessed by the Demon King, is also a hybrid and is another mouth to feed.

One day, he caught a life-threatening sickness, which Zlatko's mother also caught and later died of. He was comatose for two months of the sickness and unable to move for another three.

He was almost thankful when he died. However, there seemed to be no rest for him, as he was revived as a demon under the rule of the one possessing him in life, and thus made the choice to become a solid being so he could bury his human body - Zlatko hadn't cared to.

However, Eban being a demon possesses him to do... bad things.

Aidan - Bad

He was broken into - he gave up fighting for his world's sister world, for his sister, for the legacy for his father. At this point, he had just become King, and his mother's treatment of him had only worsened. He was hardly coping - so why go through Hell for a fight he'd never win?

Aidan gave up, and soon, the choices he made were not forced onto him - out of free will, he doomed the Dark World's people, and the Light World's - his own people.

His world is in the midst of a war, one he is proud to stay he started, the terrorist group called DROW barely alive anymore, thanks to his commands. Ayla is no longer alive, but his reign of terror is going on strong - at least five hundred years have passed since his coronation.

Aidan, the Light King, will make sure he wins the war, no matter the cost.

Kasi - Bad

Kasi always had a fascination with fire since she was five years old - you would have thought learning how dangerous fire was the hard way would have caused her to be fearful of it, or at least wary, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. She adores it.

When her mother and twin brother died in a car crash (which he was driving, apparently), she would set things on fire - cushions, paper, drawings made by her or her twin as children, the lot.

When thirteen, she found a club based on the idea of paranormal beings, such as demons, and the resurrection of life. Joining it, she learned one of the supposed resurrection spells and attempted to summon her dead brother once again. He returned... sort of. And she changed too.

Together, they would create havoc upon the world that separated them.

Kai - Bad

He drove the car that killed his mother - and himself. It was an accident, nothing was planned... well, his demise wasn't at least. He was only eight at the time, but his mother didn't care too much that he was driving - but she probably did in the afterlife.

He wasn't sent to Heaven or Hell or purgatory - he was sent to the Demon World which, as an eight year old, was terrifying. However, he soon settled into the swing of things and became a demon.

Five years had passed when he was summoned to be resurrected. He became a solid being, though he was unable to hide his demonic features unless he wears sunglasses and a hat - he doesn't. Convincing his sister to invest in her developed pyromania.

He convinced her sister to travel with him, and they became criminals.

BRIEF EXPLANATION:

Mehmun - Serial Killer/Assassin - Bad - Thirty nine years.

Zlatko - Drug Addict - Bad - Eighteen years.

Aerron - Free/Normal - Good - Seventeen years.

Klara - Ghost - Bad - Ten years, fifteen in appearance.

Eban - Demon/Dead - Bad - Twelve years, fifteen in appearance.

Aidan - King - Bad - One thousand years, twenty in appearance.

Kasi - Criminal - Bad - Fourteen/Fifteen years.

Kai - Demon/Dead/Criminal - Bad - Eight years, fourteen/fifteen in appearance.