Prayer By Blood (2/4)
Pairing: CrissColfer (vampire!Darren/fae!Chris)
Rating/Warnings: eventual R / blood, sexual encounters, supernatural elements
Length: part two ~2,500 (total ~13,800)
A/N: This wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Katie and Susan indulging my sordid fantasies. Special thanks to Katie for encouraging me throughout this and for reading every little word of it as it happened. And as always, a thousand kisses to Tessa for fixing my many mistakes.
Summary: Chris has spent his long life trapped inside the marble-walled city, held captive by satin-edged restrictions and expectations, until the day he stumbles across a wild and untamed man who teaches him how to listen to the call of his blood.
If you are not long, I will wait for you all my life. - Oscar Wilde
The second time Darren sees Chris is at the spring, bathing in the clear water, looking every bit the nymph Darren’s pretty sure he isn’t.
Darren had caught the scent on the wind - delicate, clean, with an enticing layer of musk, of male, underneath. All blood was unique - the scent and taste different for each person - but Chris’ blood called to him. Tugged at him. It was heady and powerful. Saliva dripped from Darren’s fangs for a taste.
Darren wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he hadn’t been looking for Chris in the days since they’d parted in the forest. The very next morning, after waking from a restless dream of pale skin under his hands and a long, beautiful throat under his teeth, he’d gone hunting for Chris. But he couldn’t do what werewolves could - he couldn’t track the same way. But he had the notes of Chris’ blood now - fainter than he’d like, since it was pulled from the air and the skin of his neck and not right from the vein - but it was enough to lead him out of the woods and into the city.
The scent of Chris was stronger there - along the cobbled streets, gathered in the doorway of a bakery, the windowsill of a lovely little shop. It grew thicker the closer Darren came to the grand palace, but Darren wasn’t going to risk the guards who stood watch. But there was no sign of Chris, and Darren didn’t want to linger. And he didn’t want to ask if anyone knew of a pale, beautiful boy with a voice like crystal water on a scorching day and eyes brighter than starlight. Darren didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.
He wasn’t used to towns, to crowds of people he couldn’t bite. There were mages around and wolves. A little elfin girl with long braided hair and a basket of fresh picked flowers. Everything was clean, almost sterile, stark and too civilized. Darren was the woods – wild, untamed. Leaves under his bare feet and hot blood in his mouth whenever he wanted it. There were rules in towns, boundaries. Laws. Things he wasn’t supposed to do. Ways he had to act. It chafed at his skin and made him want to bare his teeth at the next well-dressed person who glanced twice at his eyes and turned their nose up at the scent of him.
Darren slipped out of town without having found Chris, but knowing that he was close by. It was enough.
Darren is out in the woods near his home, gathering up firewood, when the scent hits him. His whole body freezes, going rigid with tension. His skin prickles. Hair stands on end. Chris. It’s faint, but it’s there, carried along the breeze. And it’s utterly delicious, light on his tongue due to the distance, but mouth-watering nevertheless. Darren tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch the sound of Chris’ beating heart, but he’s too far away. He drops the wood and squares his shoulders, taking a deep breath. He is old and powerful and he’ll be able to find Chris, wherever he is.
He hears the gentle thump of Chris’ heart before he hears the water.
Chris is bathing in the spring, thigh-deep in the clear water and gloriously nude. His back is turned and Darren is transfixed, rooted to the spot. Chris is exquisite. And there’s so much of him. Broad, rounded shoulders tapering to his waist. Thick arms and lean thighs. His back is smoothly muscled; a long, sweet curve down his high, tight ass. His skin is so pale, peaches and cream with constellations of freckles, and Darren’s mouth waters to mark him. He wants to drag his tongue up the sensuous dip of Chris’ spine. Suck a deep bruise into his hip. Bury his teeth into the tempting curve of Chris’ throat and find out if he tastes half as good as he smells.
Darren doesn’t know what Chris is. He doesn’t smell like an elf, though his ears have a subtle point to them that Darren wants to run his fingers along. And he’s not a vampire. He already denied being a mage, but even Darren - savage and wild as he is - knows there’s magic in Chris’ veins, in every inch of him. Powerful, ancient magic. It sparks along his skin and glows in his eyes. He is nothing that Darren has ever met before, and Darren already knows he’s never going to rid himself of the scent of Chris’ blood, even if he never gets a true taste of it.
“Hello, lovely,” Darren calls out. Chris startles and turns, the water swirling around his thighs. Darren grins and Chris’ cheeks flush red with blood. Darren can hear the way Chris’ heart beats faster, but not in fear, and the scent of him grows stronger. He feels his fangs elongate and he touches his tongue to the deadly sharp tip.
“Darren!” Chris exclaims. His chest is subtly defined, dusted with light hair, and his nipples are pink and peaked with the slight chill of the water. Or because of Darren’s heated gaze. Or both. His waist is thicker than Darren’s own and his belly flat. He is gorgeous. Darren drops his gaze, following the trail of darker, coarser hair from his belly button down. Chris’ cock is long and pink, nestled between his pale thighs. He’s not hard, but that’s changing. Darren’s already half-hard, has been since he first scented Chris in the woods.
“I told you I’d find you.” Darren quickly pulls off his own clothes. Chris’ eyes widen and Darren wants to laugh triumphantly at the obvious rush of blood to Chris’ cock. He watches it flush a darker red and begin to harden. Darren steps into the water; it’s cool, but he hardly feels it. Chris’ arresting eyes - the color of the sea at sunrise - roam over his body as Darren wades closer and closer to him. He can see the working of Chris’ long neck as he swallows and the flutter of Chris’ pulse in the sweet notch of his throat.
“I’m a little busy here.” Chris gestures at his naked body. Beads of water are clinging to his skin and Darren aches to tongue them away.
“Need help?” Darren steps closer. The water swirls around the tip of his cock. The scent of Chris’ blood is so fucking enticing. There are notes of sugar and spice, of deep, old power, and Darren doesn’t know how he hasn’t pounced yet. There’s something about Chris, about his bearing, the noble tilt of his chin, that keeps Darren in check. “I can wash your hair for you,” he offers.
Chris’ eyebrow lifts. His face is angular where Darren’s is soft; high cheekbones and sharp jaw. His nose is refined, almost delicate. Darren sort of wants to lick his cheek. “Really? Can you reach that high?”
Darren grins. “Funny.” Darren pushes closer until he doesn’t need to focus to count the splash of Chris’ freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Then maybe you should kneel down for me.”
Chris inhales harshly. There’s a sharp flare of something between them, something Darren doesn’t understand. It isn’t just the pulse of Chris’ arousal, though that was there too, salt-wet and tantalizing. Darren thinks it might be a wave of errant magic and he wishes he knew just what Chris is. He wonders if he’s pushed too hard, said the wrong thing. But Chris isn’t backing away from him. And whatever it was is gone now.
“What do you want, Darren?” Chris’ voice is lower than it was, his pupils blown wide. The blue nearly subsumed by black.
Chris gasps softly and Darren watches with too-keen eyes as a flood of emotions flit across Chris’ fine, beautiful features. He catches heated desire in his eyes and worry in the corners of his mouth. He sees want and defiance and something frustratingly indefinable that tells him there’s so much more at stake here, in this moment, than he understands. Darren is a wild thing. He wants what he wants and he takes it. He bites. He fucks. He owns. But Chris isn’t like him. And he isn’t Darren’s. Yet.
“And what do you want?”
Chris swallows. Darren can smell that he’s not afraid, even if he’s holding back. And he doesn’t need his heightened senses to tell him that he’s aroused; he can see the evidence of it plain as anything. Chris’ cock is nearly fully hard, grown thicker and flushed darker, and Darren aches to wrap his hand, his mouth, his everything around it.
“Chris. Tell me.” Darren aches to touch him. “I might only be a vampire, and you’re - well, I don’t know what the fuck you are - but I’m not wild enough to not realize there’s something going on here. So tell me what it is. Because fuck, Chris. I want you. So here’s the savage part of me - I want you. I want to kiss you. Fuck you. Mark you.” Chris’ breath shivers in his chest and triumph burns hot and pleasing in Darren’s belly. “Bite you. Make you mine.” The word ends on a growl and blood rushes pink and tempting to Chris’ cheeks, spreading down his chest. The smell of it, even through his skin, pulls so strongly at Darren. This is unlike any hunt he’s even been on.
He tries to take a step forward, the last step until he’s pressed right up against Chris, right where he wants to be, but Chris’ arm lifts between them. Darren gasps when Chris’ hand lands on his bare chest, right over his heart. His palm is warm and feels huge, spread wide across the side of Darren’s chest. Darren leans into it and Chris’ fingers flex, nails digging ever so slightly into Darren’s skin. Darren wants to bare his teeth to the sky.
“Your heart beats.” Chris says, voice full of abstract wonder. He’s staring at Darren’s chest and Darren is watching his mouth, the tempting red curve. The flicker of his tongue as he wets his lips.
“How?” Chris’ thumb strokes across Darren’s tight, peaked nipple and he shudders. His cock is hard, curving up towards his belly, just from the nearness of Chris, his scent. The singular press of his hand.
“I don’t know.” Darren no longer remembers the night his heart stopped and then restarted. It beats, that’s all he knows, and right now, it’s beating for Chris. “Chris.”
“I shouldn’t want this. You. I’m not supposed to. But,” Chris swallows. Darren can smell his assent and his teeth burn for Chris’ soft, pale throat. “But I do.”
Darren lunges, grabs Chris’ face in both hands, and finds his mouth unerringly. Chris gasps, high and shocked, hands flailing, before he grips one hand at Darren’s hip and the other at the back of his neck. Darren breathes in sharply and Chris’ scent slips down the back of his throat. Darren groans as Chris’ lips part for him, opening willingly, and he slides his tongue inside the wet heat of Chris’ mouth. Chris tastes like he smells - clean like spring water; deep and dark like male. Darren growls and licks deeper into Chris mouth, chasing the taste of him. But it’s not enough; he needs Chris closer. Darren slides one hand down Chris’ smooth, wet back and grips at his ass, hauling him against his body with his preternatural strength. Chris moans, the sound vibrating against Darren’s lips, and his blood surges at the light scratch of Chris’ nails against his neck. Chris’ skin is wet and flushed with need, the blood so close to the surface it aches; Darren wants to crawl inside him.
Suddenly, Chris shivers hard in his arms, body spasming, and Darren gasps his shock into Chris’ mouth. It feels like something is washing over him, heated and electric, sliding inside him - through his pores, his ears, his mouth. Deep under his skin and into his blood. He doesn’t know what it is, but it feels good.
“Fuck,” Darren groans. Chris is hard against his thigh, skin hot and silky. Darren shifts, rubs sinuously against him, and grins into the kiss when Chris moans eagerly. The sound is almost breathless; need catching in the back of Chris’ throat. Darren can feel the heavy throb of Chris’ cock, pressed against his own. He can smell the precome gathering at the tip, saltier even than his blood. He’s dying for a true taste. Darren ruts up against him, sliding his cock against Chris’ and he grins into their kiss as Chris thrusts back. Chris’ hand slides up his neck and his fingers tangle tightly in his curls. He tugs, angling their mouths just that little bit better.
Darren doesn’t mean to do it, would never intentionally bite Chris without his permission, but it happens anyway in his eagerness. It’s his very nature, after all. He slips, loses control for an instant, and Chris jerks in his grip. Darren scents the blood, salty sweet and irresistible, almost the moment his wickedly sharp fang nicks Chris’ kiss-swollen lower lip.
Chris pulls away from him on a gasp, hand flying to his mouth. His eyes are wide, panicked, pupils blown with arousal, though the scent of fear spikes, sharp and bitter, from him. Darren knows he must look like a wild thing - hair a mess from Chris’ fingers, chest heaving, and eyes gone completely gold with black bleeding through. He must look savage. But somehow he knows that he alone is not what Chris is suddenly fearful of. There’s something else going on, the same fear or worry that had passed across Chris’ features earlier.
“I - Chris, I…”
Chris draws his fingers away from his mouth and they’re stained bright red with his own blood. Darren is panting, struggling to catch his breath, fighting to keep from lunging at Chris and sucking the blood from his lip, his fingers.
Darren tries to take a step forward, but Chris steps back. It hurts, the rejection. He’d been so close.
“Don’t,” Chris says. His eyes are pleading and Darren is held fast. “Please, just. Stay back.” He’s pressing at his lip, trying to stop the bleeding.
“I’m sorry,” Darren offers. He’s never apologized for who he is before, but it feels necessary.
“It’s fine. It’s just, you can’t-” Chris looks at his fingers again and tentatively touches his tongue to his tender lip. His brow furrows and Darren can scent disappointment bitter in the air. “I have to go.” Chris’ eyes are huge with unspoken apology as he heads for the shore, giving Darren a wide berth as he passes.
Darren is left standing in the cool spring water, cock still hard, heart beating heavy in his chest with the taste of Chris’ tongue thick in his mouth.
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- sadritsuka12 said:love the 3 part..i was sad that chris ran away.aww.. i kinda feel sorry for darren…he didnt mean to bite him.. p.p
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