Glamourlust, meet the family 1
Feb. 15th, 2003 09:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamjarThere were dark lines of chaos magic wrapped around his hands, fine as piano wire and digging in hard enough to draw blood, and he honestly couldn't remember which one of them had put them there. Their glamour fed off each other, depriving them both of rational thought. Predators and parasites and leeches both, and he stretched out his wings out of reach when beautifully vicious hands went for them. Deprived of their target, one reached up and grabbed hold of his hair, while the kiss suddenly turned soft, sweetly gentle.
And then he was lifted up and onto his back, floating a wingspan clear of the floor, hands still bound by fishing-line thin power, while traces as soft as silk ribbons kept the rest of his body moving more than a shiver when sharp teeth, wonderful, delicious, thank-chaos-for-pointed-canines teeth bit into his neck. The pain was enough to make him scream, and his appreciation of that pain strong enough for him to break the spell on his hands, bring them down...
"Hey Mark, have you seen the..."
The sudden absence of magic hit him like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him after removing the at least one layer of skin. Falling to the floor was just adding insult to injury, even the discomfort of having his wings trapped under him secondary to the sudden lack of glamour. No binding on his legs, no mutual power raising each other's appetites- the teeth in his neck suddenly hurt, and not in a good way.
"Oh shit, Mark, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had... I mean, you were doing, tha..." There was a babbling from the doorway and Aerael managed to raise his head to see a young blond, blushing like a virgin nun in a porn shop, one hand covering his eyes as his wings came round to shield him from view. Aerael hadn't even heard to door open. "Sorrysorrysorry, I'm just gonna..." and he backed out of the room.
Mark had detached himself from Aerael's neck and was growing softly. It was almost enough to bring back the mood, especially now he could feel his glamour return. He could live several lifetimes without feel that unpleasant sensation again.
"My brother is a dead man," Mark said. He glared at the doorway, eyes hard and teeth out, and he started to lift himself up. Aerael didn't really now him well enough to tell if he was joking, but there was a definite promise of some retribution in his eyes. In the name of good family relationship, it was probably Aerael's duty to distract him. And since his glamour was back again... ah, there was the reaction he was looking for. Teeth still out, but it looked like he was going to put them to better use. "It's bad luck to leave an incubus before the job's done," he said, just enough warning in his voice to keep Mark's attention. "Or didn't you know that?"
"And it's bad luck to distract a drakthos on the hunt, or didn't you know that?" Mark said an answering hit of his own personal glamour.
"I'm an incubus." Aerael rolled Mark over onto his back, pinning his hands by his sides, partly to have him under him, partly just so he could stretch his wings after having them cramped underneath him. "We tempt everything, including fate."
Mark flexed his arms but, surprisingly, didn't immediately try to switch positions. "So tempt me to stay, then."
And then he was lifted up and onto his back, floating a wingspan clear of the floor, hands still bound by fishing-line thin power, while traces as soft as silk ribbons kept the rest of his body moving more than a shiver when sharp teeth, wonderful, delicious, thank-chaos-for-pointed-canines teeth bit into his neck. The pain was enough to make him scream, and his appreciation of that pain strong enough for him to break the spell on his hands, bring them down...
"Hey Mark, have you seen the..."
The sudden absence of magic hit him like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him after removing the at least one layer of skin. Falling to the floor was just adding insult to injury, even the discomfort of having his wings trapped under him secondary to the sudden lack of glamour. No binding on his legs, no mutual power raising each other's appetites- the teeth in his neck suddenly hurt, and not in a good way.
"Oh shit, Mark, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had... I mean, you were doing, tha..." There was a babbling from the doorway and Aerael managed to raise his head to see a young blond, blushing like a virgin nun in a porn shop, one hand covering his eyes as his wings came round to shield him from view. Aerael hadn't even heard to door open. "Sorrysorrysorry, I'm just gonna..." and he backed out of the room.
Mark had detached himself from Aerael's neck and was growing softly. It was almost enough to bring back the mood, especially now he could feel his glamour return. He could live several lifetimes without feel that unpleasant sensation again.
"My brother is a dead man," Mark said. He glared at the doorway, eyes hard and teeth out, and he started to lift himself up. Aerael didn't really now him well enough to tell if he was joking, but there was a definite promise of some retribution in his eyes. In the name of good family relationship, it was probably Aerael's duty to distract him. And since his glamour was back again... ah, there was the reaction he was looking for. Teeth still out, but it looked like he was going to put them to better use. "It's bad luck to leave an incubus before the job's done," he said, just enough warning in his voice to keep Mark's attention. "Or didn't you know that?"
"And it's bad luck to distract a drakthos on the hunt, or didn't you know that?" Mark said an answering hit of his own personal glamour.
"I'm an incubus." Aerael rolled Mark over onto his back, pinning his hands by his sides, partly to have him under him, partly just so he could stretch his wings after having them cramped underneath him. "We tempt everything, including fate."
Mark flexed his arms but, surprisingly, didn't immediately try to switch positions. "So tempt me to stay, then."
