Fate: Er. Ah. About that. So. Rob Zombie-ishness. And Donnie Pfaster. And psycho Ryou making psycho Bakura nutty. And too much Hellsing. Nummy Integra! *glomps Integra*
Disclaimer: 'House of 1000 Corpses' belongs to Rob Zombie, Donnie Pfaster/Irresistible references are property of the X-Files and Chris Carter, Hellsing is Kouta Hirano's, and this fic is R for the sheer overwhelming not-for-small-children-or-people-with-heart-problems stuff. Oh, and don't breed. Your child could end up like this.
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Giggle. Soft, silky, like the blood slipping through his fingers. He raises a hand and licks at it, licks at the sleek globby wetness congealing on his delicate blackened hands. Red tongue like fire dips out, long and lithe and bitten, his blood mingling with the blood he harvested himself. He licks his incisors in a swift, seductive movement fraught with more significance than lip-licking could ever be. Then he ducks his head almost shyly to the broken girl's neck, biting down, tasting, ripping out chunks of flesh and slowly swallowing them.
I swallow reflexively as well.
She has fingers missing. Fingers and hair. I told him not to watch the X-Files last night. He didn't listen, staring fixedly at the TV from a pool of blood, matted hair screening his hungry eyes. The smell of cooked human flesh rises in my nostrils, and the vision of him delicately gnawing on the girl's fingers swims in my eyes. I smile and try the tongue-over-incisors motion myself. It doesn't work. Not like his works for him.
She got a corpse under her bed
He had her fun but now he's dead
Her momma said come feed desire
Her brother said, "Hey, throw her on the fire"
I wonder, sometimes, what he would have been without me and without an almost feminine beauty that charms man and woman alike, charms them to our lair and our parlor and to his pretty little sharp-toothed mouth.
Where I was a thief and a murderer in my past life, and he is now a sadistic, nymphomaniacal, necrophiliac cannibal, there must have been a lifetime of vampiracy between us. The seduction, the bloodlust, the disregard for sacred flesh, these are things that my society and my self could never have brought to him.
Laugh and lick, laugh and drink, beckon to frolic in the blood, frolic and touch and play and love, these are all in his flirtatious wink and wave of the fingers at me.
I obey.
This is the house
Come on in
This is the house
Built on sin
This is the house
Nobody lives
This is the house
You get what you give
Do I fear him? Do I love him? Was it me who corrupted him past repair? It is me who protects him now, keeps him safe from those who would prosecute the murders he commits, shields him from society's loathing and distaste as I longed for someone to shield me all those millennia ago. I repay a debt as yet unmade, or maybe I just insure myself against further debts. Someone has to keep him safe and assure him that it's all right, and who better than the one who spawned him?
He is mine. None can have him.
A bite on my neck, a lick at the blood dribbling from the cut, then a fierce kiss with his blood and my blood and some innocent girl's blood all on his lips, his hands tangling in my hair and under my clothes and boiling the thick liquid between his skin and mine with lust.
None will ever have him but me.
Those who seek to lure him from me deserve their messy end at his greedy, bloodstained hands. If he didn't do it for me, I'm sure I'd do something myself.
He always did want to clear my conscience.
I cut the flesh and make it bleed
Fresh skin is what I need
I let it dry out in the wood
All your crying did no good, yeah
Mutilate and tease, running fingers around and down and he bites cruelly, licking and drinking hungrily. He's so thin, starved for a taste of human flesh. Any other food disgusts him, any drink but blood is spit out onto the murky floor. He wastes away on his pitiful diet, wastes and dwindles to shadows and bones and searing light that tears and burns and destroys. He brings Hell with him wherever he goes, and I follow willingly. Endlessly. Eternally.
If it comes to it, I'll feed him my darkness, feed him my flesh and bones, feed him this pitiful shell and exist in him just long enough to create a body for him to devour again, devour and fuck and kiss and kill...
He has all of me, and I none of him...
Whimper.
BITE.
Now you're lying on the floor
Yeah, you can't take anymore
The devil's laughing in your face
Give me another taste, yeah...
He attacks me for my daring, crushes and twists and writhes and chews and draws blood and sears flesh, wild at the thought of what he inflicts turned back on him. Not wild with fear or anger, wild with lust and desire and crazed dreams. Wild with everything that he is inside.
Not even I was this insane.
Taste him taste him TASTE HIM under me writhing and kicking and screaming, stirring up blood but by all that's unholy I think finally I've gone just as crazy, licking the blood off of his face and biting down for more, drinking it in and reveling when he moans and licks at the wounds he inflicted on me. He's pinned to the floor and swimming in blood, and he's MINE.
And none will ever come between us, and all who try will fall and be consummated, a sacrifice to Us.
This is the house
Come on in
This is the house
Built on sin
This is the house
Nobody lives
This is the house
You get what you give
Pour yourself into hell, close your eyes and open your mouth, I have a surprise for you...
To dream is to be is to dream is to be is to dream. Do you understand?
No, you do not. But he won't care.
Nothing here is as it seems. No one here is as it seems. And yet everything is so simple, a murderer and his inner demon given flesh and bone, a killer with the sweetest smile and the unholiest of eyes. He is all I am. He is all I ever will be.
...in the name of all that is unholy, may the demons come forth and damn us with fire and brimstone and blood...
Amen.
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Fate: Er. Sorry about that. Anyhoo. Review? Please?