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serindranaTitle: Blinded (once mentioned as Possession)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serindrana, also known as skepticallittledarling
Characters: Elysia/Aric
Words: 1947
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Notes: Original characters of mine. Both are ice mages, so, yeah.
Summary: When she had first talked to him, he could still see. But he’d never seen her in person. Videos, pictures, probably, but never in person.
“Are you covered in blood? I can smell it.” He was purring, standing from his armchair and approaching with even, careful steps. He never used his cane in the house. He knew the layout too well to insult himself with help. He stopped right before her, five inches away, and inhaled deeply, cataract-white eyes closing. He smiled.
“A little bit,” Elysia replied, shifting her weight to one foot uncomfortably. “He didn’t cooperate.”
“I doubted that he would.” Aric took that half step to close the remaining distance between them, leaning down to cup her chin, guide his lips to hers. He licked instead of kissing, humming thoughtfully. “It seems it was quite the exertion, my dear.” He could taste the salt, thick on the top ridge of her lips, lapped it up as an offering of her strength to him. “You must want a bath.”
It was always like this, after a job. She longed for each assignment because she was allowed to step foot outside of the compound for an evening, a night, a day, but hated their completion. From the moment they began to choke on their own saliva and blood, she began to hate herself again. Two years of this, two years of coming home to Aric with his possessive fingers and purring voice. “Yes,” she said, bowing her head. Two years ago, she could have said no. He had broken her with promises and pain and deprivation. She could barely stand straight under the weight of his blind gaze.
She reminded herself that she had wanted this, had agreed to this, and let him take her hand and lead her down the corridor, up the stairs, and his large, vacuous bathroom. He sat on the edge of the tub, keeping one hand pressed to her stomach as she bent to turn on the water. When he had asked for her body in exchange for his mind, she had said yes. True, she had been a teenager, confused and alone, but he had asked again when she turned eighteen, again when she was twenty one. And when she was twenty five, he had finally called in her debt, and she had gone obligingly to him. She had promised him.
“You seem so melancholy these days,” Aric murmured, leaning back slightly, his other hand beginning to follow the curve of her back, hedging her in, bounding her movements. “If I didn’t know better, I would be afraid that you resented me. You don’t, do you?”
Every time he asked, she had to close her eyes and force down every bit of resentment that had formed since the last time. “Of course not,” she said, voice lightening the littlest bit, and she twisted to sit down beside him as the large tub filled with lukewarm water. He couldn’t stand much above body heat these days, not with how cold his own flesh was. It burned too much. She was attentive to his needs. “I’m just tired.”
“You’re always so tired.” Sometimes he played at being her lover, played at being honestly caring and doting. Other times, he mocked her, keeping track of her every mood and feeling, showering her with gifts she couldn’t reject that twined him more and more tightly about her. He alternated between driving her to ecstasy and pushing her down into the depths of pain, having learned within those first short months that she could take it, would even it out to a quiet need and twisted affection. He liked twisting her about until she almost broke. “Should I cut back on the number of jobs I give you? You asked that I give them to you; I don’t mind if all you do is stay here and sit beside me all day.” His hand rested cooly on her thigh. She tilted her head back to more easily swallow the sigh that was building. It went down, slimy and ice-cold. She shivered, and he took it as a cue to move closer, to press his side against hers as he encircled her with one arm, his other hand unbuttoning her blouse, loosening her holster, unzipping her pants. She obediently closed her eyes and let him explore and defile.
“No, it’s not that. I like being tired after a job; it means I did it well.”
“Such the dedicated servant. I’m ever thankful that you came when I called.” He kissed her throat, pressing his tongue hard against her carotid until her head began to swim. His arm tightened around her to support her body. When her vision was close to black, he pulled back, smiling faintly as he felt her jerk forward slightly, pull herself back towards full consciousness. “Check the water height, please.”
She nearly fell when she turned to do so, head still swimming, but he caught her. The water was perhaps two inches too low to cover the both of them, even with displacement, and the water was running slightly to warm. She increased the flow of cold water, then straightened. “Another few minutes.”
“The only downside to large tubs is how long they take to fill,” he commented lightly, standing and beckoning for her to undress him. She stood, stepping out of her already disassembled clothing, toeing her boots and stockings off, and set about undoing every button he insisted on wearing. He dressed every day in full three-piece suit and tie even though he rarely saw his associates. And every evening, he had her undress him, folding each piece carefully even though it would just go into the wash. The other servants had boundaries, after all, that he wouldn’t let them pass for propriety’s sake. It was only proper to have his protege sleep in his bed and perform any little task he didn’t feel like doing.
“Mm,” she hummed in affirmation, helping him step out of his loafers and socks with the long practice of two years.
“Tell me that you love me,” he murmured, gazing down to where he knew she was. He liked to pretend he could see, liked to fix people with his gaze. He had an uncanny ability to guess where it was closely enough that people would correct the difference.
Elysia gazed up at him, gnawing on her bottom lip. He asked her every month or so to reassure him, as if it mattered. Maybe it did matter in his twisted, icebound mind. “I love you,” she said, voice subdued, suitably sweet and demure that he believed her. She wasn’t the type to proclaim affection at every turn anyway. It fit. It pleased him. He smiled now, grinned almost, and held out his hands, pulling her up into his arms, too-cold skin against hers, still warm for the time being.
“How’s the water?” His hearing was finely tuned to his house; he knew how everything sounded. Now, the water had risen to just where it would cover but not gurgle into the emergency drain and she reached out to turn off the faucets. He didn’t need her verbal affirmation, instead moving to the side of the tub, stepping in and then offering his hand again. He liked to assist her when he could, even if it made little sense. A woman who could see was better able to help a blind man into a tub without incident than the other way around.
She was doomed to this lukewarm water that she entered now with barely a splash, sliding into the water with him. He pulled her into his arms, unwilling to let her escape to the other side of the tub. She would one day only be able to stand the water at this temperature, wouldn’t be able to drink hot drinks or eat hot food. One day her vision would glaze over just like his. One day her eyebrows would be dusted with frost and her body temperature would never rise above eighty. She would adjust, just as he had, and she would live in a black, frozen world. He reminded her every night of the future and she closed her eyes, trying to imagine it. She didn’t have a choice. He didn’t do this to her, draw the color from her skin and lips. If she ran away that night, she would still be locked inside of herself within twenty years. He only showed her how to cope with it: lukewarm baths and a warm body.
“How long do you think I have?” she murmured, cheek against his shoulder, curled up in his lap. “Before...”
“Before you go blind?” he answered, softly, hand resting gently on her knee. “Perhaps ten years, give or take. I started to lose my sight when I was thirty one. It was gone entirely by the time I was forty.” Seven years, then, he’d lived without sight. When she had first talked to him, he could still see. But he’d never seen her in person. Videos, pictures, probably, but never in person. The thought was new and strange to her.
“... When my skin goes cold, will you find another protege?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He smiled against her hair, stroked her thigh. “I’m quite fond of you. I’ll just begin using the fireplace again, hm?”
Her heart both rose and fell at the same time, leaving her in much the same place she had been. “That’s good,” she said, weakly,
He laughed. His voice was still the low, sensuous voice she remembered from late-night phone calls and it could still, from time to time, send shivers through her. “Were you really so worried?” Aric murmured against her ear, lifting his knees, bringing her a little further above the water. His fingers brushed lightly across her breast, coming to rest on one nipple, which quickly chilled. The ice that had formed on his fingertip glided across her skin, making her suck in air, twitch, shudder. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you.”
She nodded, weakly, eyes half-lidded. “Of course not,” she whispered, and he laughed again, trailing his finger down her stomach, along the inside of her thighs, delighting in how she twitched, how her toes curled. Then he let the ice melt, let her drop back slowly into the more welcomingly warm water, watched as she relaxed.
She was perfect for him in every way, groomed to be his successor and his lover, his hired gun and his caretaker, and he still held the mysterious position of fantasy in some of her more fevered moments. He had kept her waiting on his every word for so many years that his voice could still thrill her, especially when all she could do was listen to him on the other end of a phone line. And so she still fell for him when he wasn’t being cruel, when he stroked her hair and ran a washcloth over her shoulders, when he kissed a line down her spine and twined his fingers with hers. Nights like these were what she lived for these days, nights where he lived up to what she had always wanted him to be. And even when he led her back to his bedroom and the air around her grew cold and his grin had turned wicked, she could still pretend he did it from love and that she would respond from love in kind.
After all, this was what she had wanted for the last thirteen years. Her wishes came true and she could live happily ever after, until the lights went out and darkness was all that was left to her.
Authors:
serindrana, also known as skepticallittledarlingCharacters: Elysia/Aric
Words: 1947
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Notes: Original characters of mine. Both are ice mages, so, yeah.
Summary: When she had first talked to him, he could still see. But he’d never seen her in person. Videos, pictures, probably, but never in person.
“Are you covered in blood? I can smell it.” He was purring, standing from his armchair and approaching with even, careful steps. He never used his cane in the house. He knew the layout too well to insult himself with help. He stopped right before her, five inches away, and inhaled deeply, cataract-white eyes closing. He smiled.
“A little bit,” Elysia replied, shifting her weight to one foot uncomfortably. “He didn’t cooperate.”
“I doubted that he would.” Aric took that half step to close the remaining distance between them, leaning down to cup her chin, guide his lips to hers. He licked instead of kissing, humming thoughtfully. “It seems it was quite the exertion, my dear.” He could taste the salt, thick on the top ridge of her lips, lapped it up as an offering of her strength to him. “You must want a bath.”
It was always like this, after a job. She longed for each assignment because she was allowed to step foot outside of the compound for an evening, a night, a day, but hated their completion. From the moment they began to choke on their own saliva and blood, she began to hate herself again. Two years of this, two years of coming home to Aric with his possessive fingers and purring voice. “Yes,” she said, bowing her head. Two years ago, she could have said no. He had broken her with promises and pain and deprivation. She could barely stand straight under the weight of his blind gaze.
She reminded herself that she had wanted this, had agreed to this, and let him take her hand and lead her down the corridor, up the stairs, and his large, vacuous bathroom. He sat on the edge of the tub, keeping one hand pressed to her stomach as she bent to turn on the water. When he had asked for her body in exchange for his mind, she had said yes. True, she had been a teenager, confused and alone, but he had asked again when she turned eighteen, again when she was twenty one. And when she was twenty five, he had finally called in her debt, and she had gone obligingly to him. She had promised him.
“You seem so melancholy these days,” Aric murmured, leaning back slightly, his other hand beginning to follow the curve of her back, hedging her in, bounding her movements. “If I didn’t know better, I would be afraid that you resented me. You don’t, do you?”
Every time he asked, she had to close her eyes and force down every bit of resentment that had formed since the last time. “Of course not,” she said, voice lightening the littlest bit, and she twisted to sit down beside him as the large tub filled with lukewarm water. He couldn’t stand much above body heat these days, not with how cold his own flesh was. It burned too much. She was attentive to his needs. “I’m just tired.”
“You’re always so tired.” Sometimes he played at being her lover, played at being honestly caring and doting. Other times, he mocked her, keeping track of her every mood and feeling, showering her with gifts she couldn’t reject that twined him more and more tightly about her. He alternated between driving her to ecstasy and pushing her down into the depths of pain, having learned within those first short months that she could take it, would even it out to a quiet need and twisted affection. He liked twisting her about until she almost broke. “Should I cut back on the number of jobs I give you? You asked that I give them to you; I don’t mind if all you do is stay here and sit beside me all day.” His hand rested cooly on her thigh. She tilted her head back to more easily swallow the sigh that was building. It went down, slimy and ice-cold. She shivered, and he took it as a cue to move closer, to press his side against hers as he encircled her with one arm, his other hand unbuttoning her blouse, loosening her holster, unzipping her pants. She obediently closed her eyes and let him explore and defile.
“No, it’s not that. I like being tired after a job; it means I did it well.”
“Such the dedicated servant. I’m ever thankful that you came when I called.” He kissed her throat, pressing his tongue hard against her carotid until her head began to swim. His arm tightened around her to support her body. When her vision was close to black, he pulled back, smiling faintly as he felt her jerk forward slightly, pull herself back towards full consciousness. “Check the water height, please.”
She nearly fell when she turned to do so, head still swimming, but he caught her. The water was perhaps two inches too low to cover the both of them, even with displacement, and the water was running slightly to warm. She increased the flow of cold water, then straightened. “Another few minutes.”
“The only downside to large tubs is how long they take to fill,” he commented lightly, standing and beckoning for her to undress him. She stood, stepping out of her already disassembled clothing, toeing her boots and stockings off, and set about undoing every button he insisted on wearing. He dressed every day in full three-piece suit and tie even though he rarely saw his associates. And every evening, he had her undress him, folding each piece carefully even though it would just go into the wash. The other servants had boundaries, after all, that he wouldn’t let them pass for propriety’s sake. It was only proper to have his protege sleep in his bed and perform any little task he didn’t feel like doing.
“Mm,” she hummed in affirmation, helping him step out of his loafers and socks with the long practice of two years.
“Tell me that you love me,” he murmured, gazing down to where he knew she was. He liked to pretend he could see, liked to fix people with his gaze. He had an uncanny ability to guess where it was closely enough that people would correct the difference.
Elysia gazed up at him, gnawing on her bottom lip. He asked her every month or so to reassure him, as if it mattered. Maybe it did matter in his twisted, icebound mind. “I love you,” she said, voice subdued, suitably sweet and demure that he believed her. She wasn’t the type to proclaim affection at every turn anyway. It fit. It pleased him. He smiled now, grinned almost, and held out his hands, pulling her up into his arms, too-cold skin against hers, still warm for the time being.
“How’s the water?” His hearing was finely tuned to his house; he knew how everything sounded. Now, the water had risen to just where it would cover but not gurgle into the emergency drain and she reached out to turn off the faucets. He didn’t need her verbal affirmation, instead moving to the side of the tub, stepping in and then offering his hand again. He liked to assist her when he could, even if it made little sense. A woman who could see was better able to help a blind man into a tub without incident than the other way around.
She was doomed to this lukewarm water that she entered now with barely a splash, sliding into the water with him. He pulled her into his arms, unwilling to let her escape to the other side of the tub. She would one day only be able to stand the water at this temperature, wouldn’t be able to drink hot drinks or eat hot food. One day her vision would glaze over just like his. One day her eyebrows would be dusted with frost and her body temperature would never rise above eighty. She would adjust, just as he had, and she would live in a black, frozen world. He reminded her every night of the future and she closed her eyes, trying to imagine it. She didn’t have a choice. He didn’t do this to her, draw the color from her skin and lips. If she ran away that night, she would still be locked inside of herself within twenty years. He only showed her how to cope with it: lukewarm baths and a warm body.
“How long do you think I have?” she murmured, cheek against his shoulder, curled up in his lap. “Before...”
“Before you go blind?” he answered, softly, hand resting gently on her knee. “Perhaps ten years, give or take. I started to lose my sight when I was thirty one. It was gone entirely by the time I was forty.” Seven years, then, he’d lived without sight. When she had first talked to him, he could still see. But he’d never seen her in person. Videos, pictures, probably, but never in person. The thought was new and strange to her.
“... When my skin goes cold, will you find another protege?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He smiled against her hair, stroked her thigh. “I’m quite fond of you. I’ll just begin using the fireplace again, hm?”
Her heart both rose and fell at the same time, leaving her in much the same place she had been. “That’s good,” she said, weakly,
He laughed. His voice was still the low, sensuous voice she remembered from late-night phone calls and it could still, from time to time, send shivers through her. “Were you really so worried?” Aric murmured against her ear, lifting his knees, bringing her a little further above the water. His fingers brushed lightly across her breast, coming to rest on one nipple, which quickly chilled. The ice that had formed on his fingertip glided across her skin, making her suck in air, twitch, shudder. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you.”
She nodded, weakly, eyes half-lidded. “Of course not,” she whispered, and he laughed again, trailing his finger down her stomach, along the inside of her thighs, delighting in how she twitched, how her toes curled. Then he let the ice melt, let her drop back slowly into the more welcomingly warm water, watched as she relaxed.
She was perfect for him in every way, groomed to be his successor and his lover, his hired gun and his caretaker, and he still held the mysterious position of fantasy in some of her more fevered moments. He had kept her waiting on his every word for so many years that his voice could still thrill her, especially when all she could do was listen to him on the other end of a phone line. And so she still fell for him when he wasn’t being cruel, when he stroked her hair and ran a washcloth over her shoulders, when he kissed a line down her spine and twined his fingers with hers. Nights like these were what she lived for these days, nights where he lived up to what she had always wanted him to be. And even when he led her back to his bedroom and the air around her grew cold and his grin had turned wicked, she could still pretend he did it from love and that she would respond from love in kind.
After all, this was what she had wanted for the last thirteen years. Her wishes came true and she could live happily ever after, until the lights went out and darkness was all that was left to her.
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