glamourlust can't be bothered to finish
Feb. 8th, 2003 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamjarThe man let out a small cry and Mark frowned as Davy dropped his arm and backed away to the other end of the sofa. The man looked like he wanted to back away too, and Mark could almost see the man's thoughts cross his face. He'd worked with vampires before, he'd been fed on before, even by greedy children with no table manners and teeth sharper than their stomachs, but in spite of Mark's warnings, he hadn't expected it to hurt like that when Davy bit him.
The nature of the glamour used to make the experience of feeding pleasant for all involved changed as one matured. Infant vampires could make their victim feel warm, nurturing, which was why most young vampires chose women or fathers initially- people who had an instinctive response to feeding an infant, who could be easily convinced that they felt love, that they were giving comfort to their child.
An adult vampire usually went for a more direct route- basic physical pleasure, usually mixed up with sex- well, it did make an enjoyable bonus, and helped ensure dinner wouldn't mind staying for breakfast.
But Davy had no natural glamour, and when he bit someone it hurt. Mark kept a few maids on tap to keep Davy fed. Two of them had known Davy since he was a baby, long enough for natural maternal instinct to serve in place of glamour-induced docility. It didn't hurt them any less, of course, but they were used to it enough to barely flinch.
Necessary that, since Davy drew back whenever he heard them cry out in pain. Markkas wasn't sure where that reaction came from- maybe one the meals had hit him instinctively at the bite, though he thought he would have heard about it if that had happened.
"Davy, go back and finish your meal," he said.
"But he... I don't wanna hurt him," Davy said, ducking his head and peering up through his fringe worriedly. He hated to disappoint Mark -his brother was the coolest, scariest person he knew, and those were great reasons to do what he wanted. He always ended up doing it anyway, and he knew he had to feed, it was just...
... he really, really hated hurting people when he fed. Mark didn't know what that was like, because Mark wasn't weird like him. He'd seen Mark feed and the people never looked in pain, exactly, and they always seemed kinda reluctant for Mark to stop. And it wouldn't matter if it did hurt them anyway, because Mark didn't care about stuff like that.
And now his brother was looking at him, sort of angry and bored at the same time, just waiting for Davy to go back to feeding, but he just *couldn't*, so he just ducked his head and said, "Sorry."
Mark sighed. If Davy was older, this wouldn't be a problem. Davy would go out and find people who liked a little pain, and the lack of glamour wouldn't be such an issue, but now, while Davy was still a child...
He stepped forwards, and the man who'd been sitting there quietly since his little scream looked nervous. *As he should,* Mark thought. It was tempting to make the man suffer for making what should have been a simple chore, getting Davy fed, into such an issue, but that still wouldn't get blood into the boy, so he just touched the man lightly on his shoulder and lightly wrapped his own glamour around him.
"There, now it won't hurt him. Just keep your field in like we talked about," he snapped at Davy. Davy still looked reluctant, but he frowned in concentration and Mark could feel the null field pull back into just a few inches from Davy's skin. Davy took the man's wrist and bit in again, and Mark went back to concentrating on keeping enough glamour on the man to keep him happy and painless, without letting it slip into his normal level of pleasure. Maybe later- he hadn't fed yet either- but not while Davy was here. The room was quiet, except for the rhythmic sound of Davy feeding and the man's uneven breath.
And then Davy lost control of his field and Mark felt it like a slap to the face and the man suddenly came back to himself to find a pair of sharp teeth in his arm. He did a whole body flinch, pulling back his arm and standing up so suddenly that Davy was knocked off the chair.
"Sir! I'm sorry, it was just..." the man started to babble, then trailed off at Mark's expression.
"Get out," Mark snarled. "I'll deal with you later." The man didn't need to be told twice and left the room as though the hounds of Hell were after him, which they weren't. Yet.
He scowled at Davy and contemplated just sending him to bed without his supper, but taking care of Davy meant making sure he was fed.
"S'okay, Mark, really, I'm not hungry anymore," Davy said. "It's not his fault. I just forgot about keeping my field in." He tried a cautious, closed-mouth smile.
"You're not," Mark said skeptically. He leaned forwards and put one finger under Davy's chin, tilting his head up. "Open your mouth."
Davy squirmed, uncomfortable with his neck exposed. "Davy," Mark said in warning. Davy opened his mouth reluctantly and Mark was totally unsurprised to see that Davy's teeth were still half out. "It doesn't look like you've had enough." He dropped his hand and let Davy's head fall forwards.
"If you weren't so fussy about eating," Mark grumbled. Davy shrugged sulkily without looking up.
"I hate it when you do that," he said, still staring at his feet. Mark bit back his first response, to point out that if Davy just obeyed him in the first place...
Gah. He really didn't want to do this, but it was just too much effort to find someone else for Davy to snack on, and then persuade Davy to actually bite down. For a moment, her regretted that he didn't keep blood bags in stock, but he liked to know where his meal was coming from. He found the thought of those anonymous, pre-packaged blood-bank donations distasteful and he didn't care what the surgeon general said, that kind of unalive meal couldn't be satisfying or healthy, especially for a growing vampire.
He undid the cufflink on his sleeve. Davy saw what he was doing and made a face. "I'm not a baby," he muttered, but he shifted position, drawing one leg up on the sofa and moving to face Mark. Mark rolled up his sleeve- he liked this shirt, and Davy might not be a messy eater, but some spillage was almost inevitable- and, sitting on the sofa so he was facing Davy, offered him his arm. After a moment of trying to find the best angle, and with one last glance at Mark to check it was okay, Davy bit down.
It hurt, though in all honesty, having the null field so close was more uncomfortable. Not painful enough to make him flinch, though. Mark looked away from the blond head bent over his wrist and wished he'd locked the door before he started this. At least the man -what was his name again?- had shut it behind him when he made his escape. It would be embarrassing to be seen feeding his brother like this, the infamous Markkastanen si Rhaegal Sartain letting himself be bled like a mama vamp with a newborn.
He stretched his wings, careful not disturb Davy. Davy was holding his arm steady, one hand on Mark's, the other above Mark's wrist, leaning against Mark's side in the same way he'd feed off one of the more familiar maids. With his free hand, he ruffled Davy's hair, feeling oddly protective.
He was getting too big for this, really. A few more years and Davy'd be in adolescence, and at that stage feeding off his brother would be disturbing on too many levels. If Davy was going to keep balking like this, Mark would have to put in a stock of bottled blood. He hated the stuff himself, but at least it would ensure Davy got some nourishment, at least until he was old enough to either find someone resistant to pain or responsive to it, or at least stopped caring so much if he hurt them.
The nature of the glamour used to make the experience of feeding pleasant for all involved changed as one matured. Infant vampires could make their victim feel warm, nurturing, which was why most young vampires chose women or fathers initially- people who had an instinctive response to feeding an infant, who could be easily convinced that they felt love, that they were giving comfort to their child.
An adult vampire usually went for a more direct route- basic physical pleasure, usually mixed up with sex- well, it did make an enjoyable bonus, and helped ensure dinner wouldn't mind staying for breakfast.
But Davy had no natural glamour, and when he bit someone it hurt. Mark kept a few maids on tap to keep Davy fed. Two of them had known Davy since he was a baby, long enough for natural maternal instinct to serve in place of glamour-induced docility. It didn't hurt them any less, of course, but they were used to it enough to barely flinch.
Necessary that, since Davy drew back whenever he heard them cry out in pain. Markkas wasn't sure where that reaction came from- maybe one the meals had hit him instinctively at the bite, though he thought he would have heard about it if that had happened.
"Davy, go back and finish your meal," he said.
"But he... I don't wanna hurt him," Davy said, ducking his head and peering up through his fringe worriedly. He hated to disappoint Mark -his brother was the coolest, scariest person he knew, and those were great reasons to do what he wanted. He always ended up doing it anyway, and he knew he had to feed, it was just...
... he really, really hated hurting people when he fed. Mark didn't know what that was like, because Mark wasn't weird like him. He'd seen Mark feed and the people never looked in pain, exactly, and they always seemed kinda reluctant for Mark to stop. And it wouldn't matter if it did hurt them anyway, because Mark didn't care about stuff like that.
And now his brother was looking at him, sort of angry and bored at the same time, just waiting for Davy to go back to feeding, but he just *couldn't*, so he just ducked his head and said, "Sorry."
Mark sighed. If Davy was older, this wouldn't be a problem. Davy would go out and find people who liked a little pain, and the lack of glamour wouldn't be such an issue, but now, while Davy was still a child...
He stepped forwards, and the man who'd been sitting there quietly since his little scream looked nervous. *As he should,* Mark thought. It was tempting to make the man suffer for making what should have been a simple chore, getting Davy fed, into such an issue, but that still wouldn't get blood into the boy, so he just touched the man lightly on his shoulder and lightly wrapped his own glamour around him.
"There, now it won't hurt him. Just keep your field in like we talked about," he snapped at Davy. Davy still looked reluctant, but he frowned in concentration and Mark could feel the null field pull back into just a few inches from Davy's skin. Davy took the man's wrist and bit in again, and Mark went back to concentrating on keeping enough glamour on the man to keep him happy and painless, without letting it slip into his normal level of pleasure. Maybe later- he hadn't fed yet either- but not while Davy was here. The room was quiet, except for the rhythmic sound of Davy feeding and the man's uneven breath.
And then Davy lost control of his field and Mark felt it like a slap to the face and the man suddenly came back to himself to find a pair of sharp teeth in his arm. He did a whole body flinch, pulling back his arm and standing up so suddenly that Davy was knocked off the chair.
"Sir! I'm sorry, it was just..." the man started to babble, then trailed off at Mark's expression.
"Get out," Mark snarled. "I'll deal with you later." The man didn't need to be told twice and left the room as though the hounds of Hell were after him, which they weren't. Yet.
He scowled at Davy and contemplated just sending him to bed without his supper, but taking care of Davy meant making sure he was fed.
"S'okay, Mark, really, I'm not hungry anymore," Davy said. "It's not his fault. I just forgot about keeping my field in." He tried a cautious, closed-mouth smile.
"You're not," Mark said skeptically. He leaned forwards and put one finger under Davy's chin, tilting his head up. "Open your mouth."
Davy squirmed, uncomfortable with his neck exposed. "Davy," Mark said in warning. Davy opened his mouth reluctantly and Mark was totally unsurprised to see that Davy's teeth were still half out. "It doesn't look like you've had enough." He dropped his hand and let Davy's head fall forwards.
"If you weren't so fussy about eating," Mark grumbled. Davy shrugged sulkily without looking up.
"I hate it when you do that," he said, still staring at his feet. Mark bit back his first response, to point out that if Davy just obeyed him in the first place...
Gah. He really didn't want to do this, but it was just too much effort to find someone else for Davy to snack on, and then persuade Davy to actually bite down. For a moment, her regretted that he didn't keep blood bags in stock, but he liked to know where his meal was coming from. He found the thought of those anonymous, pre-packaged blood-bank donations distasteful and he didn't care what the surgeon general said, that kind of unalive meal couldn't be satisfying or healthy, especially for a growing vampire.
He undid the cufflink on his sleeve. Davy saw what he was doing and made a face. "I'm not a baby," he muttered, but he shifted position, drawing one leg up on the sofa and moving to face Mark. Mark rolled up his sleeve- he liked this shirt, and Davy might not be a messy eater, but some spillage was almost inevitable- and, sitting on the sofa so he was facing Davy, offered him his arm. After a moment of trying to find the best angle, and with one last glance at Mark to check it was okay, Davy bit down.
It hurt, though in all honesty, having the null field so close was more uncomfortable. Not painful enough to make him flinch, though. Mark looked away from the blond head bent over his wrist and wished he'd locked the door before he started this. At least the man -what was his name again?- had shut it behind him when he made his escape. It would be embarrassing to be seen feeding his brother like this, the infamous Markkastanen si Rhaegal Sartain letting himself be bled like a mama vamp with a newborn.
He stretched his wings, careful not disturb Davy. Davy was holding his arm steady, one hand on Mark's, the other above Mark's wrist, leaning against Mark's side in the same way he'd feed off one of the more familiar maids. With his free hand, he ruffled Davy's hair, feeling oddly protective.
He was getting too big for this, really. A few more years and Davy'd be in adolescence, and at that stage feeding off his brother would be disturbing on too many levels. If Davy was going to keep balking like this, Mark would have to put in a stock of bottled blood. He hated the stuff himself, but at least it would ensure Davy got some nourishment, at least until he was old enough to either find someone resistant to pain or responsive to it, or at least stopped caring so much if he hurt them.
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no subject
Date: 2003-02-10 11:55 am (UTC)Still, if you like them I'll write more- any requests? Any areas of gross canonical violation you want me to get rid of? Be warned, I have a minor fetish for siblings-with-subtext that may poke through at odd moments.
I like the Mark-Davy relationship. While it's been hinted that Mark had other reasons for looking after Davy, it does seem that, in spite of Mark's personality, he did actually look after Davy- in Despair, he says something about not having bathed anyone since Davy grew out of it, and there's that bit in Link where Regressedtochildhood!Davy asks Io if she wants to come fishing with him and his cool brother Mark. Which may never have happened, but...
Given how creatively nasty Mark can be, the fact that he limits himself to, well, pranks is fairly significant.
(Actually, they're pranks that Davy can get himself out of, so far- getting Io stuck as a male isn't innately harmful, only because of Davy's hang-ups.)
no subject
Date: 2003-02-12 07:08 am (UTC)oh boy...mark and davy's relationship is a long story in and of itself....initially, Mark hated the boy when he was born--he refused to have anything to do with him, but davy tagged along all unknowing, as worshipful little brothers do, and of course, there were parents to intervene. But Mark was secretly involved with an elven noble (another really long story-- *groans*) and it was from him that he learned the tale of the glamourless faery that destroys the world (along with a appreciation of finer things in life, art and culture and music and elegant clothes and manners and such). and the entire fishing incident that davy remembers so fondly? that was Mark setting him up to be taken by the Sidhe. *sighs*
but things went wrong, and they killed Mark's father. And mark took care of davy initially out of guilt, and because his father told him to, and later on, when that wore thin, he was commanded to do so by lord chaos himself (apparently the chaos has plans for the boy). so he's tended to davy (often very reluctantly) ever since. On one hand, he'll tend to his every need and keep him safe--on the other, he'll torment him unmercifully. *nods* and as we all know, mark gets into his nasty little moods . but yes, he'll pretty much restrict himself to pranks , verbal/emotional abuse, maybe some smacking around. He would never go all-out on little brother, and i leave it pretty open to interpretation, as far as his motivations are--you're never entirely sure (but you suspect ) that he's doing it out of some last remaining bit of familial ties and genuine feelings, or if he's merely afraid that the chaos lord would punish him.
and davy of course, is just as you've portrayed him. sweet and worried and desperately wanting love and not wanting to hurt anyone and very much aware that he's a freak, and pathetically grateful that his very scary and cool big brother is there to take care of him.
but you're writing is lovely, and you're doing such a wonderful job with them! I don't really want to push you in any particular direction, so what ever you're moved to write is fine. ^_^
--k