Restoration: Part One of Two
Mar. 15th, 2005 12:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluetears07Title: Restoration
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Paring: Deacon Frost/Scud
Summary: Frost goes to reclaim what is rightfully his.
Rating: Part One: PG-13
Fandom: Blade/Blade II
AN: Of course slight blood!kink. This is going to just be pure fun. Finally have an excuse to dip into the twisted part of my psyche and write vampire/human slashy smut…Keep in mind this is slightly AU since Frost is very much, and oh so regrettably dead by the time this story takes place.
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“Tear it the fuck apart.” Frost seethed, his ice blue eyes giving away none of the fury that contorted his cold voice. A quick, tense sweep of his arm, and he motioned for his men to fan out and destroy the cluttered garage the Daywalker used as a base of operations. He paused, tugging anxiously at the crisp white collar of his half open button-down shirt, waiting for his men to obediently snap into action. Breathing in deeply several times, Deacon attempted to calm the blood pulsing in his veins, now a searing conflagration threatening to consume him whole. The single feeling surging with new life and to previously unreachable heights was all he could focus on as he caught scent of the metallic and oh so intoxicating blood of his Familiar.
“Deac-” A blatant objection and questioning of authority. Quinn knew exactly why they were there and wanted to turn back now before he lost another appendage he would have to replace later—wasn’t worth it for a filthy Familiar who Mr. Deacon Frost just happened to like to fuck…a lot.
“Do it, Quinn.” Deacon snarled deep in the back of his throat, head snapping in Quinn’s direction; a few gelled strands of light brunette hair skidding across his forehead in tune with the quick motion. His eyes flashed with a fierce warning as he bared his glinting fangs, elongated to nearly full length in agitation mingled closely with anticipation and pent up sexual frustration. With a shallow breath from Frost, the band of vampires spread out; destroying anything and everything they got their hands on. As soon as Deacon was sure that Quinn would not disobey or question his order again, Frost turned his full attention towards the rusted stairway that lead up to the second floor of the building, the edges of his pale lips curling up in pure pleasure.
Sallow, pink rimmed flesh veiled piercing blue irises, head tipping back slightly as Deacon surrendered to the advantages of his vampire instinct. The dark, inky black leather was stiff and cool against the naturally chilled flesh of his fingers as he rifled around in his coat pocket for a cigarette. Blindly fumbling until finding the small pack, Frost drew one out and placed it between his ashen lips. A few short sniffs of the blood tainted air, mixed with a slight tang of fear, sweat and a sweet pulsing undercurrent of eagerness and Frost knew exactly where his prey was waiting patiently for him to discover. Hard eyes snapped open as he started walking briskly towards the stairway, carefully avoiding the debris of various dismantled electronics and smashed vials containing strange colored liquid now littering the floor. Several squeaks and whines emitted from the rusted framework of the stairs as Frost walked up them, taking two at a time in quick strides. An intense look of concentration carved into his every feature as he climbed the stairs. In that moment if one of the other vampires had tried to interfere or objected he would have bitten through flesh, muscle and bone regardless of who they were in order to complete his mission.
Once reaching the second level, he took a few steps into the tell-tale cluttered workspace, several hard drives and frayed wires along with various components used to make weaponry were strewn throughout the room. Deacon knew just from the image of the disorganized worksite that the room belonged to his property. A nearly unperceivable, yet wholly genuine smile curled up the corners of Frost’s mouth, gently bobbing the waiting cigarette with the slight movement of pale lips. Ignoring the rising pressure in his burning blood and inflamed libido, he sensed the human he was seeking shift from his hiding place in the shadows. Deacon lit up the cigarette with slow deliberate actions, confirming his own level of self-control and restraint. It was first the sharp scent of silver cutting through the air that caught his attention, followed by the metallic click of a loaded gun cocking. Calmly, he drew in a long drag of toxic smoke into his lungs. With a heavy sigh, plume of hazy smoke leaking through the small space between his lips, Deacon finally spoke in a low, yet commanding murmur.
“Drop it, Josh.” The words slipped off Frost’s tongue with an ease he had forgotten, though Scud’s proper name seemed cumbersome on his lips. Tilting his head to the side, pressing his pallid cheek against his shoulder and exposing the pale column of his throat, Deacon stared at his Familiar with dark, raised eyebrows. He could sense the immediate reaction radiating from the human’s anxious form, his pulse jumping up a notch higher than it had been a moment before; he could almost feel the tightening of Scud’s chest within his own. Frost knew exactly how his eyes pierced right through Scud; the human had told him so on several occasions before he had left a month prior to work as Frost’s ‘field agent.’ He had said it seemed as if Deacon’s eyes were restlessly searching to gaze upon a human soul and, once they had softened and lost their intensely hard cut edge, took solace in the fact he could see Scud’s.
However, there was something different in the thinly guarded look resonating just beneath the surface of Scud’s bright eyes. It disturbed Deacon, striking a hidden nerve, eliciting the tremble of an inquisitive eyebrow, the only give away that he was being affected by Scud’s lack of obedience. An inner struggle was taking place within the human’s mind as he debated with himself as to whether or not he would give into Frost’s will. The vampire could see reflected in Scud’s blue eyes every lie, every line of slander against the ‘infamous Deacon Frost’ that the Daywalker had filled Scud’s mind with. Battle seeming to rage silently within Scud, the Familiar’s eyes flickered over every inch of Deacon’s lithe body, lingering on his pale but perfect lips, knowing just what terrors and pleasures could be the product of that talented mouth, lips, tongue and teeth, especially Frost’s teeth.
Slowly, Scud relaxed his grip on the gun, the shining barrel dipping steadily lower and lower as the Familiar conceded to the vampire’s demands. A slow burning grin tugged at the corners of Deacon’s lips as he watched his human bend to his will. His fingers curled around the filter of his cigarette and pulled it away from his mouth, a thin ribbon of smoke issuing from his smirking lips. Finally, with an echoing clatter of metal scrapping against concrete, Scud released the gun from his fingers and let it fall to the ground, his gaze never straying from Deacon’s. His hand fell back to his side, hanging there limply against the filthy coat hanging off his frame. It was then that Frost noticed the sliver of a cut along Scud’s cheekbone, a few wayward beads of enticing, crimson blood swelling over the sliced edge of skin and dripping gradually down the warm flesh. Unconsciously, a slick, cold tongue slipped from Frost's mouth, running against the frigid flesh of his lower lip and coating the yielding skin with a thin sheen of smoke tainted saliva.
“What are you doing here, man?” Scud asked in a conspirator’s whisper, leaning towards Frost and glancing around anxiously waiting for the other vampires to stumble across them, or worse the Daywalker. He winced as he watched the obvious displeasure flit over Deacon’s face upon hearing the human’s vernacular digress back to the stoner drawl he had possessed ages ago when he had first met Frost. As soon as the words had left his lips he instantly regretted speaking them. Frost flicked the smoking cigarette away in one fluid movement, not giving a second thought to where it could land, before rounding on Scud. In three short, quick strides, Frost had Scud slammed up against the iron support beam running up through the floor from the first level up to the ceiling. The harsh pressure of the vampire’s thumb pressed tight against the line of Scud’s jaw, his fingers curling beneath the man’s chin and around to dig into the soft flesh of the human’s unmarred cheek, framing the his face in one hand. He tipped the man’s head back and to the side, gazing down at the fine line of blood trickling down the human’s cheek. Shifting his hips in a slow, erotic grind he pressed the sharp edge of his hipbone against Scud’s and watched as bright blue eyes rolled slightly to the back of his head at the sensation. Before Scud had a moment to catch his breath, he felt the familiar chill of Frost’s breath, coming in quick puffs of intensified arousal, skidding over his flesh in a fluid torrent of long pent up emotion.
“You’re mine.” Deacon whispered fiercely, voice husky and eyes glinting with a thick haze of lust. The roots of his fangs burned with a slight pain as the teeth grew longer with the passion of his outburst. His free hand slipped inside the folds of Scud’s open jacket, pressing against the course fabric of loose jeans. Nimble fingers, dipping below the waistband, traced along predominant hipbones until finding the tiny patch of skin that felt as if it possessed a different texture than the rest. His glyph. Well hidden from all other prying eyes, only for him to see; good placing for espionage work. A sudden flare of possession exploded in the pit of Deacon’s stomach, surging up through his chest and throat until spilling from his mouth with a heated tone twisting his words. “I’m done sharing.” The fluid, chilled flesh of his tongue swiped along the thin cut, lapping up in one slow lick the few drops of blood that had begun to slowly curdle. No where near fresh, warm blood he was used to. It was a bitter, rusted metallic taste assaulting his senses as he brushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, spreading the all-too-familiar underlying taste of Scud throughout his entire mouth, savoring the long denied treat. Just the tip of his tongue ran along the slick surface of his teeth, a razor thin cut slicing across the muscle as he reached the fully elongated fangs.
“Deacon…please…” A low, desperate moan escaped from Scud’s parted lips as he felt Deacon’s grip go lax, his cold fingers slipping lower to wrap loosely around the human’s throat. The tips of his fingers brushed against the dark, shaggy hair that hung low on the back of Scud’s neck. Deacon knew exactly what his pet was begging for. With a purely cocky grin exposing his predominant fangs, he pressed one pale, tapered finger against the juncture of jaw and neck, just over the pounding pulse, and tilted the human’s face back towards his own.
The blossoming of heat started at Frost’s mouth as he pressed his wan lips against Scud’s, drinking in freely the intoxicating flood of real warmth oozing from the man’s body pressed tight against him. The clammy flesh of Frost’s hand was still pressed against the tattooed glyph on Scud’s hip. His entire lithe frame fit comfortably against the placid body locked into place with his back to the beam. It was drastic how different the gentle pressure of Frost’s lips against Scud’s was when compared to the harsh grip he had had on the human’s face moments before. Scud had almost forgotten how that contrasting sensation intensified the already raw beauty of Deacon’s kisses. With a slow lick against compliant lips, Deacon pressed his bloodied tongue into the warm recesses of Scud’s mouth. He felt the human body sag against his own, muscles failing him for a moment, surrendering to the sheer pleasure as the first taste of vampire blood course through his system. Blunt fingernails dug viciously into the stiff leather stretched taut across his shoulder blades as Scud attempted to steady himself.
“My filthy little human…” Deacon gasped in short spurts of breath between kisses, pressing his body tighter against Scud’s. A few unintelligible moans escaped from the Scud’s mouth, forming incoherent half sentences all beginning with Deacon’s name, were only to be muffled by the slow movement of Frost’s lips against his. Slowly, Deacon began to lose patients with the deep, almost languid kiss, a feral growl rolling low in the back of his throat. The sting of the vampire’s five o’clock shadow only served to couple the rough, dominating nature Deacon’s kisses had digressed to, fading into a pure carnal urge that had to be satisfied. Their teeth clanking together, Frost’s sharpened fangs dragged across flushed and swollen lips, spilling a few more precious drops of warm blood.
“Frost!” Deacon was instantly jolted back into reality as Mercury’s voice, her words twisted by the exotic accent, screamed in his ears.
“Bitch.” Snarling and bearing his fangs once again, Deacon tore his lips away from Scud’s, fury evident in his every movement. Gripping the man’s wrist, faintly feeling the thrumming pulse through the heavy fabric of his jacket, Frost walked quickly towards the stairway.
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AN: There’s a second half in which I promise some nice ScuDeacon smut.
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Paring: Deacon Frost/Scud
Summary: Frost goes to reclaim what is rightfully his.
Rating: Part One: PG-13
Fandom: Blade/Blade II
AN: Of course slight blood!kink. This is going to just be pure fun. Finally have an excuse to dip into the twisted part of my psyche and write vampire/human slashy smut…Keep in mind this is slightly AU since Frost is very much, and oh so regrettably dead by the time this story takes place.
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Restoration
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AN: There’s a second half in which I promise some nice ScuDeacon smut.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-03-16 05:38 am (UTC)ARE
CRAZY
--This has been a public service announcement, thank you.--
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Date: 2005-03-16 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-21 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-21 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-16 01:07 pm (UTC)He comes back to llliifffeeeee!!!!! His little vampire minions bring him back to life! Well, at least in the comics he does. Hey, that should be Blade IV: Deacons of Death, in which Deacon Frost is brought back to life and brings total devistation along with much slashyness. Heh, ok, no. But I can still dream, right?
Anyways, I LOVE this!!! WOOT!!!
no subject
Date: 2005-03-16 01:45 pm (UTC)Thank you so much! *hugs*
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Date: 2005-03-16 07:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-17 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-19 01:02 am (UTC)The Scud in me is quivering in delight, being that he gets close to no attention lately.
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Date: 2005-03-19 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-19 07:13 pm (UTC)>P
Scud is dancin' with his iPod somewhere in my head as we speak.
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Date: 2005-03-25 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-13 02:58 pm (UTC)More fanfics from you!! xxx