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kinkfestTitle: Respite
Author:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andremeese
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, mild D/s, bloodplay
Word count: 1103
Prompt: Legacy of Kain: Rahab/Raziel; escapism - Raziel hates the Abbey, but maybe that's the very reason he comes here
Author’s Note: This is the first of my prompts to be written and delivered on time!
Author:
andremeeseRating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, mild D/s, bloodplay
Word count: 1103
Prompt: Legacy of Kain: Rahab/Raziel; escapism - Raziel hates the Abbey, but maybe that's the very reason he comes here
Author’s Note: This is the first of my prompts to be written and delivered on time!
Rahab's Abbey is a vampire's version of hell. Their freakish brethren have adapted to living in and with the water that would repel any other clansman, and their personalities grew cold and minimalist with it. Nobody dares risk the journey to associate with a Rahabim if they can avoid it.
Raziel never can stay away.
The humid air stings his skin as he ventures into the labyrinth of bookshelves and sodden chambers. A secret underwater channel exists to allow the traditional vampire access to the hidden depths of Rahab's home, yet even this courtesy is a curse. His heavy boots track slick mud across the damp stone flooring, while tiny streams flow through gutters carved at the base of the wall. Cracks in the stone have been appearing for a while now, and Raziel knows that the structure could collapse around him at any second and leave his flesh to the mercy of the lake around him.
Raziel never runs, but walks the length of the tunnel. He acknowledges the creeping chill spreading throughout his body as fear, and his unflinching gait as his conquering of it. When he steps through to a moonlight-drenched island in the heart of the Abbey, he finally allows himself a moment to breathe.
He waits.
Rahab arrives shortly after through a dark aquatic route. In this light, he looks feral; his eyes glow bright in the scant light, and his hair is slick against his scalp. His black lips part to reveal not just a vampire's fangs, but neat white rows of tiny points. He wasn't one to savor a meal, but to rips it to shreds and bask in the gore. He is unabashedly naked, and it's hard to remember that this lean, muscle-strapped beast was once a man, same as himself.
He glides towards Raziel without the slightest change in expression. Water drips from his body as he walks, leaving tiny puddles in the lush grass that manages to grow here, despite Nosgoth's weak sunlight. It's amazing that the clan least able to cope with light manages to nourish the best flora, but Raziel does not question it. He's not quite able to meet his brother's unblinking stare, and finds himself lowering his eyes to avoid it.
Lowering. That's what this entire ordeal is about, isn't it?
They both know why Raziel has come. Rahab offers no words of greeting, but only a growled command for him to strip. He watches this with casual indifference, and if he appreciates the sight of his pale brother kneeling naked in the damp grass, he doesn't show it. The moisture is not quite enough to burn him, but the skin is flushed and agitated where it touches the ground. Rahab pays this no mind; he grasps Raziel's neatly bound hair and forces him to look up at his face.
"Suck," he simply says. He is flaccid, but Raziel works his cock skillfully with well-practiced gestures. Rahab, finally erect, pushes his brother's hands away and guides his face nearer, hissing at the touch of Raziel's lips on his cock. It's gentle at first-- a slow lick up the shaft, a swirl of his tongue at the base, licking along the finely trimmed hair on his balls, back to the tip to flick his tongue teasingly at the slit. Rahab purrs in approval and slackens his grip on his brother's hair, pushing him instead to take him fully into his mouth. Raziel relaxes his throat as well as he can, and prepares for the next move. Rather than push him any further, however, Rahab pulls away.
"Get up," he orders, walking off towards one of the bedrooms contained inside. Grateful for the relief for his aching knees, but rising slowly for it, Raziel follows. The sight he meets, however, makes him pause. Rahab is spread out across the bed, arching wantonly at the press of his own fingers inside him. Two, three, and then four stretch him wide, and the first sign of strain shows on his carefully controlled face. He withdraws them and leans back against the pillows, beckoning Raziel forward silently. He feels slow and clumsy before his brother, and when he reaches for the lubrication, Rahab grabs his hand and moves it to wrap around his cock instead.
He feels himself pushed back to sit, and Rahab crawls over him. He shivers at Rahab's cold hands guiding his cock, but grips his hips tight when Rahab sinks down to impale himself upon it. For even as cold and impersonal as this encounter is, Raziel does feel affection for brother; if you didn't know him well, however, you'd think that Rahab felt no emotions at all. Raziel knows better. Rahab's arms are locked tight around his chest, and his shoulders have the barest tremble to them, and the feral groan escaping from those black lips is one reserved for him alone. They move together in a rhythm perfected over countless years-- one that still shakes Raziel's world. For in those moments with Rahab, he is not a revered leader or a warlord's treasured son, but a partner, a lover, and more so than ever before, a brother in spirit.
Rahab gasps and clenches tight around him; he hides his face in Raziel's neck to keep in character, and bites savagely into the warm flesh to keep the other from noticing his lapse. Raziel's climax is like a flood washing over him, consuming and drowning him, and when he hears a scream, he can't tell if it's Rahab's or his own. His brother lies against his chest, panting and trembling from his own orgasm, smearing blood from his dark lips against Raziel's shoulder.
Then the show goes on.
"Dawn has almost broken, brother," he says coolly, backing out of their embrace and making his way back towards the entrance. "You may prefer to stay here a while longer if you do not wish to make the journey home by day." Even slick with blood and sweat and come, he is a radiant, majestic sight, and as he leaves, Raziel is reminded of why he does this to himself time and time again. Even though their public meetings are wrought with pomp and the formality of ranked soldiers, alone, they are free to escape their roles as first and fourth-born, and lose themselves in a pattern that wasn't meant to be.
He sleeps well, and when night falls again, he finds his clothes neatly laundered and folded for him, and not a trace of another soul in sight. He leaves the Abbey a refreshed man; once again, the first lieutenant.
Raziel never can stay away.
The humid air stings his skin as he ventures into the labyrinth of bookshelves and sodden chambers. A secret underwater channel exists to allow the traditional vampire access to the hidden depths of Rahab's home, yet even this courtesy is a curse. His heavy boots track slick mud across the damp stone flooring, while tiny streams flow through gutters carved at the base of the wall. Cracks in the stone have been appearing for a while now, and Raziel knows that the structure could collapse around him at any second and leave his flesh to the mercy of the lake around him.
Raziel never runs, but walks the length of the tunnel. He acknowledges the creeping chill spreading throughout his body as fear, and his unflinching gait as his conquering of it. When he steps through to a moonlight-drenched island in the heart of the Abbey, he finally allows himself a moment to breathe.
He waits.
Rahab arrives shortly after through a dark aquatic route. In this light, he looks feral; his eyes glow bright in the scant light, and his hair is slick against his scalp. His black lips part to reveal not just a vampire's fangs, but neat white rows of tiny points. He wasn't one to savor a meal, but to rips it to shreds and bask in the gore. He is unabashedly naked, and it's hard to remember that this lean, muscle-strapped beast was once a man, same as himself.
He glides towards Raziel without the slightest change in expression. Water drips from his body as he walks, leaving tiny puddles in the lush grass that manages to grow here, despite Nosgoth's weak sunlight. It's amazing that the clan least able to cope with light manages to nourish the best flora, but Raziel does not question it. He's not quite able to meet his brother's unblinking stare, and finds himself lowering his eyes to avoid it.
Lowering. That's what this entire ordeal is about, isn't it?
They both know why Raziel has come. Rahab offers no words of greeting, but only a growled command for him to strip. He watches this with casual indifference, and if he appreciates the sight of his pale brother kneeling naked in the damp grass, he doesn't show it. The moisture is not quite enough to burn him, but the skin is flushed and agitated where it touches the ground. Rahab pays this no mind; he grasps Raziel's neatly bound hair and forces him to look up at his face.
"Suck," he simply says. He is flaccid, but Raziel works his cock skillfully with well-practiced gestures. Rahab, finally erect, pushes his brother's hands away and guides his face nearer, hissing at the touch of Raziel's lips on his cock. It's gentle at first-- a slow lick up the shaft, a swirl of his tongue at the base, licking along the finely trimmed hair on his balls, back to the tip to flick his tongue teasingly at the slit. Rahab purrs in approval and slackens his grip on his brother's hair, pushing him instead to take him fully into his mouth. Raziel relaxes his throat as well as he can, and prepares for the next move. Rather than push him any further, however, Rahab pulls away.
"Get up," he orders, walking off towards one of the bedrooms contained inside. Grateful for the relief for his aching knees, but rising slowly for it, Raziel follows. The sight he meets, however, makes him pause. Rahab is spread out across the bed, arching wantonly at the press of his own fingers inside him. Two, three, and then four stretch him wide, and the first sign of strain shows on his carefully controlled face. He withdraws them and leans back against the pillows, beckoning Raziel forward silently. He feels slow and clumsy before his brother, and when he reaches for the lubrication, Rahab grabs his hand and moves it to wrap around his cock instead.
He feels himself pushed back to sit, and Rahab crawls over him. He shivers at Rahab's cold hands guiding his cock, but grips his hips tight when Rahab sinks down to impale himself upon it. For even as cold and impersonal as this encounter is, Raziel does feel affection for brother; if you didn't know him well, however, you'd think that Rahab felt no emotions at all. Raziel knows better. Rahab's arms are locked tight around his chest, and his shoulders have the barest tremble to them, and the feral groan escaping from those black lips is one reserved for him alone. They move together in a rhythm perfected over countless years-- one that still shakes Raziel's world. For in those moments with Rahab, he is not a revered leader or a warlord's treasured son, but a partner, a lover, and more so than ever before, a brother in spirit.
Rahab gasps and clenches tight around him; he hides his face in Raziel's neck to keep in character, and bites savagely into the warm flesh to keep the other from noticing his lapse. Raziel's climax is like a flood washing over him, consuming and drowning him, and when he hears a scream, he can't tell if it's Rahab's or his own. His brother lies against his chest, panting and trembling from his own orgasm, smearing blood from his dark lips against Raziel's shoulder.
Then the show goes on.
"Dawn has almost broken, brother," he says coolly, backing out of their embrace and making his way back towards the entrance. "You may prefer to stay here a while longer if you do not wish to make the journey home by day." Even slick with blood and sweat and come, he is a radiant, majestic sight, and as he leaves, Raziel is reminded of why he does this to himself time and time again. Even though their public meetings are wrought with pomp and the formality of ranked soldiers, alone, they are free to escape their roles as first and fourth-born, and lose themselves in a pattern that wasn't meant to be.
He sleeps well, and when night falls again, he finds his clothes neatly laundered and folded for him, and not a trace of another soul in sight. He leaves the Abbey a refreshed man; once again, the first lieutenant.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 04:52 am (UTC)This isn't my prompt but I'm a fan of this paring... in this order. XD
Rahab and his maladjustedness- the tunnel, you remembering the tunnel... you reminding me of the tunnel and omg afjlfkjslfjsljad the smut was hot.
^^ Thank you for writing it!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 05:05 am (UTC)Oh, wow, was there really a tunnel? I never actually beat SR, so all I know of the physical structure is from what I've seen in cutscenes on YouTube.
I am so glad that you enjoyed it! Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-15 01:34 am (UTC)Oh, god, girl, I love you forever <3. Your descriptions are so bloody gorgeous, your smut is *awesome*, I love your characterisations and just, man, I squeed when you took the prompt and my brain is aching from the sheer win.
I love you so much, you know <3 ;). *tacklehugs and molests repeatedly :D*
no subject
Date: 2008-06-15 03:33 am (UTC)*GLOMP*
Гениально!
Date: 2009-05-07 01:09 am (UTC)