Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eternal Series ❯ Eternal Is The Mark ( Chapter 4 )
Warnings: None
Eternal Is The Mark
I open the door silently and slip into the dark room, frowning slightly at the half open blinds that are letting the weak moonlight slide in and dance over the floor. A glance at your bed tells me you're in it, and there's an open book over your chest, one hand over it, giving me the impression that you fell asleep reading.
Closing the door I lock it and toe off my shoes and then force my socks off my feet, enjoying the feel of the carpet against my sensitive skin as I move to close the slats.
"You're back late."
I admit I give a start, fingers jerking, making the blinds jump and clang together. To my overly sensitive ears in the dead of night it's far too loud and I wince, stilling the movement with a hand.
"You're up."
"Yes."
"Why?"
You sit up and reach to turn on the lamp. I throw an arm up over my face to shield my eyes until they can adjust, moving effortlessly from the hazy night vision to the normal day vision everyone has. You notice, you always notice.
"I wanted…" you trail off, sighing slightly, and close the book carefully, setting it aside. My eyes widen. Nosferatu: Fact, Fiction, and Lore. I've moved before I've thought, a true testimony to how much I trust you, and I've the old book in my hands, kneeling on your bed.
You've given a start and have drawn back but while I notice it doesn't quite reach past that idle realization state yet. Plopping down on the bed, cross-legged, I impatiently tuck runaway strands of hair behind my ears and rest my elbows on the book.
"You're researching?" I ask, studying your face.
"Yeah. Are you… upset?" you ask with an unusual amount of hesitation. You plow on before I could possibly answer. "Because, I just wanted to know more, to understand, and…"
"I'm not upset," I soothe, petting the cover of the book almost absently. I note he couldn't have picked a better book to read. It's the one I actually got the most information from when I was doing my own little, 'what the hell is wrong with me' search. Of course, some of the stuff is still pure Hollywood.
"Where have you been?"
I flip through the pages and it seems to you, I'm sure, aimless, an activity to stall your question, but I soon find what I had been looking for and turn the text for you to see the chapter, Vampires and Blood: Feeding and Hunting.
"Oh."
You pale slightly, more than enough for me to pick up, body still running on the after-kill high I get, but you take the book, warm fingers brushing mine. Your eyes don't move though, just stare somewhat blankly at the page, and after a moment of silence thick enough to stifle I clear my throat. You look to me.
"Why you still up?"
"I… I couldn't sleep." You close the book carefully and sit up a bit more. "It was only about five minutes before you came in when I decided to try and get some rest." You drum the book idly with your fingertips, glancing over at me beneath the fringe of your bangs. "H-How do you go about… hunting… someone?"
I raise an eyebrow. "A Gundam pilot asking about hunting someone?"
"Well, I mean, is it any different? You're hunting for… food, after all. It's not like… like you know who you're after and… all that. Right?"
"Right." I unzip my jacket and toss it onto my bed, sliding to sit with my back against the wall, stretching my legs out over your lap. "You mind?" You half shake your head no. "Well, it is different because of those points you brought up, but at the same time it's not as if I'm having to choose from a group of people at random. I tend to steer toward those who society would be better off without, and not necessarily someone from OZ, some of them are just misguided not evil.
"I just… know, on some primal level, and… you keep your eye on them until you get them alone and you strike."
"And that's it?"
"Pretty much."
"Do you, uh, have any… preferences?" Your cheeks flush slightly at that question.
I have to smile, your very hesitancy is endearing. I'm not sure I would be able to handle your discussing this in the cold, mechanical manner you discuss missions in, it would be too impersonal for something that is so incredibly personal to me.
"Well… those who deserve it. Do you mean like age or gender or race wise?"
A nod.
"Males. Something in me recoils at the thought of hunting a female. Race doesn't matter, blood type doesn't really matter, and yes they do have very subtle differences between them. Age, well, not too young, not too old, and other than that, someone who has taken moderate care of themselves."
"Diseases? Do they bother you?"
"Blood born ones? No, they don't. I might feel kinda… yucky for a few days, until it's completely erased from my system, but they don't affect me. Other things, well… alcohol, depends on how much alcohol is in their blood, and as for drugs-I've had some pretty weird experiences."
"Really?"
I nod. "Drunk, I can pretty much tell by body language and response time and just the smell of it on them. But drugs, not as easy to pinpoint, especially if it hasn't affected them yet."
A moment's silence falls but it's no longer tense between us.
"You inhale food like a vacuum."
I can't help but laugh. "Yes, I do. Contrary to popular culture a vampire can eat food; they just choose whether they want to or not. I eat food, and lots of it. The more food I eat the less often I need to seek other nourishment."
"And, uh, myths. There's mirrors and garlic and rivers and crosses…" you trail off, flipping open the book and searching through it. I cover your hand with mine, surprising you, and you look up at me.
"Don't bother, I'll tell you right now. Obviously some of those are just stupid, like the mirrors and not able to cross running water and the soil from your native land. Garlic, I love it, in moderation just like any sane human does. Religious symbols…" I pulled the cross out from under my shirt. "Hasn't burned a hole in me yet. The rest seems pretty obvious.
"A lot of that stuff may have held true for vampires hundreds of years ago but not today, at least not for me. I haven't met many others of my kind; we tend to be very territorial creatures."
I realize my hand still covers yours and I remove it.
"What about special abilities?"
"Like turning into a bat and shit? No, but it'd be so cool. Same goes for smoke or fog or whatever it is we're supposed to become. I can't fly but I can do very simple levitation. I'm quicker, as you saw earlier, and stronger, and my senses are heightened. The concept of immortality is a joke, I'm just harder to kill." I stop, though the list could continue on.
Another silence I could easily live forever in and when it seems you'll not be saying anything for a bit of time I look over to the clock and see it is well past one in the morning. While I don't need the sleep, I know you do.
Leaning in I settle my hand on your thigh, drawing your attention to me again, and squeezing gently I give you a curious smile. "Anything else you want to know? If not you really should try and get some sleep."
Your expression changes subtly, and I can tell that you're tying to figure something out, or come to some decision. Then your face relaxes and so does your body, in small degrees. "Actually, I was wondering about… relationships. You said… vampires are territorial, so I don't imagine they would… be together. But humans…" you trail off, obviously letting me fill in the rest silently.
"Vampires seek what they are not, but have memories of. We find… humans who can accept us for what we are, and that we are compatible with, the relationship builds from there as any would."
"Oh. And are vampires territorial in their relationships?"
I sense something deeper here and answer carefully and seriously. "Yes. We are extremely territorial. I am extremely territorial. When something is mine it is MINE, in every sense of the word, forever."
You quirk an eyebrow in the slightest, but I catch it. When you speak your voice is controlled at every point, but I can still feel the emotion quivering just out of reach behind your masks. "And say the person you choose doesn't have forever?"
"I'd give them forever."
I feel the shiver that climbs your body as if it's my own and I react to that, squeezing your thigh again gently, drunk on the very feel of you near me, the very taste of your mortality. Your pupils are dilated, and I know it's not just because of the dark. My eyes are drawn to the smooth skin of your throat of their own accord.
You notice; of course you notice. You're my imperfect soldier. Your fingers touch your throat, as if in memory, feathering over the steady pulse, and when you draw your hand back your throat is bared, your head is titled back, just enough to be tempting, to be taken as an invitation. I accept.
You give a start as my lips touch your throat, my hand sliding up the back of your neck, fingers curling into your soft unruly hair, but you don't give me any indication that you want this to stop. I kiss your skin gently, mouth closing over the salty flesh and sucking, not marking you just yet with my teeth.
You sigh and swallow, and I can hear your lashes brush your cheek as you close your eyes. I've had your blood, I don't need that, but I do want to see my mark against your perfect flesh.
When my teeth touch your throat you don't fight it. In fact your arms come up and lock around me, fingers sinking into the mass of my braid, bringing me closer. You whisper, the word barely existing, but I hear it, that ragged yes, and I need to know little else but you, your scent, your taste, your heat; and none of the blood lust of hunger is in this act as I break through your skin and taste that hot coppery liquid on my tongue.
You moan, or perhaps it was I. It hardly matters.
I pull away from your throat gently, licking at the broken skin, but entertaining no thoughts of healing over the wound. This is my mark, this is my claim, and from the way you let your head fall back you know that you belong to me.
As surely as I belong to you.
I'm pretty sure you pulled me down, against you, into you, your mouth on mine, your want locking us together in a fevered dance. You taste your blood on my lips, in my mouth, and still you continue to drink me in, as if starved. I feel the same, an overwhelming need to devour you and not stop until you're so a part of me only we exist. Then you draw back, gasping, your lips abused and stained red from the colliding of our uncontrolled want.
Seeing you like this, feeling your fingers dig into my shoulders, for once in my life I'm not afraid of holding onto something too tight, of destroying fragile beauty with my passion. You unleash it, and control it, but never hamper it.
Another kiss, one that threatens to completely consume us, but I stop the kisses, withdrawing from the bed, fingers lingering on your already protesting lips. "As greatly flattered as I am, Heero, you need to sleep."
"But I want-."
"You can have me anytime that you want."
You are shushed, just watching me through half lidded eyes. "Duo… why did you drink from me the first time?" you ask at last, as I pull the shirt over my head.
I drop the shirt on my bed and look at you, even as you study the planes of my revealed skin.
I give you a half smile. "Even the best of us lose control sometimes."
"Ah." A faint smile in return. "Stay with me tonight."
I glance at my empty, cold bed, then to you, your warm bed, and give a nod, snatching up my pillow to stretch out beside you. You turn off the lamp, casting us in near dark, and you curl up against my back, arms sliding around me.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
"As long as you promise to go to sleep afterwards."
"I will."
"Go ahead."
I'm surprised to feel your teeth against my shoulder, but it's just a gentle, curious nip. "All things being as they are… you can… function… in intimate situations, right?"
"I'm still a teenage boy, Heero."
"Good."
I lace my fingers through yours where your arm curls around my side. Your satisfied sounding murmur of good leaves a smile on my face.
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