Title: Slipping Into Lust

Author: Ainahim

Pairing: Daemon/Lucivar. Yes, slash. Yes, incest. So sue me for Saetan having produced some sexy brothers!

Rating: M. Whoa, I wrote M-rated fanfiction! No way!

Summary: They were their father’s sons, needing something to touch. It is difficult for them to love someone but it is simple for them to lust after one another.

A/N: This is set sometime in 'Heir to the Shadows.' Now for the warning stuff: I know they’re half-brothers. They’re just half-brothers having sex. I don’t care if you don’t like it. I’ll warn you now so you can turn back if you want to: INCEST AND SLASH AHEAD! Don’t go telling me, ‘Ick, they’re brothers!’ I know they’re brothers, I’m not THAT dumb. I just had to write about lust and this seemed like the perfect forbidden pairing for it. Now that I have warned you: flames will be giggled at because you didn’t turn back when you had the chance. For shameless slashers like me…proceed.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Black Jewels Trilogy. I wish I did, but then no one would read it because there would be shameless half-brother sex!

Being half-brothers, it was natural that they shared a lot in common. The one trait that they both seemed very attached to, however, was that it wasn’t easy for them to fall in love, but it they very easily fell into lust. Daemon was waiting for his one true love, knowing her but knowing she was simply not yet ready; and Lucivar was beginning to wonder if his true love would ever come.

They were their father’s sons - needing, wanting, something real to touch. Something close for them to feel.

It wasn’t something they ever planned to happen. But once they felt the burning lust for each other and knew that the opposite brother felt it too they just couldn’t stop. Daemon and Lucivar had been sitting at exact opposite ends of the table when it occurred, staring at each other. Daemon’s hands were wrapped around his cup of coffee, and the Eyrien had nothing in front of him. He simply sat across from his half-brother to keep him company, or was it vice versa? Did Lucivar want his brother’s company in the time that no one could be there?

The light from the fire reflected in each pair of eyes, but the burning of that flame was nothing compared to how their own body heat was beginning to feel. The man destined for Witch clutched his cup tightly, but his half-brother noticed and raised an eyebrow and let a chillingly seductive smirk dance its way onto his face.

Daemon…he sent on an Ebon-Gray thread. The sound in the Eyrien’s voice was taunting and kept replaying in Daemon’s head. He refused to respond. No more threads were sent. However, they seemed not to matter anymore. Just by judging each other’s expression they could tell what the opposite was thinking. It was as if they were issuing silent challenges just begging and waiting to be accepted. The obstacle was that each challenge issued was difficult to be accepted once logic got in the way. Having two half-brothers even thinking such things? It was nonsense; absolute nonsense. Or…it was supposed to be.

But it was real. The fire inside them burned with even more intensity that the flames in the fireplace even seemed to have caught part of their heat, wanting to balance it out. If even the flames were jealous of their heat and chemistry, there was no use denying the fact that they had fallen into lust and the only way to fall out of it again was to quench the thirst that desire brought.

Finally, after seeing the fire rise without any physical push, it was too much to take. Daemon tossed his cup out of the way and hungrily went for Lucivar. The table was forgotten. With the ease that Daemon cleared it, it was as if it shouldn’t have even been treated as a possible obstacle in the first place. They went tumbling to the floor, the Warlord Prince’s wings spread out to either side of him.

“Damn it, Daemon!” He cursed, but it was hard to put the blame on his half-brother considering he was leaving a rather delectable trail of kissing down his neck, “These damn wings just recently got,” he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from his own mouth before he could continue, “better! You want them to break again?”

“Like I’m going to let you have all the control?” The other man said in a tone that was so lazy it was irresistibly sexy, not lifting his mouth from his brother’s silky neck.

“You should,” said Lucivar. The tone in which it was said was so coated with lust that it made even Daemon look up into the other’s eyes just to make sure he’d heard the voice right. Lucivar, however, saw this as his only chance for a little control. He couldn’t flip Daemon over - the man’s grip was tight – but he could (and did) connect their lips in a fierce true kiss for the first time. It was amazing how much this was needed; the situation could have been contemplated, but their minds were too clouded with fierce need by now.

They scratched at each other, tore at the clothing until there was no more left; then they just tore sultrily at flesh, thrashing about the room just to get a taste of control or a bite of submissiveness. If they hadn’t been in a remote cottage, their cries would have woken anyone within a short distance. But there was no one. No one to hear, no one to witness. It was truly a private lust affair. Daemon could tell Lucivar liked being controlled more than he’d ever admit to; which was perfectly fine for him, considering every small sound – whimper or gasp or utterance of “Mother Night, Daemon…” - from his half-brother sent a brand new sort of shiver coursing throughout his whole body.

The battle continued; both prepped for anything, but it was Daemon who won in the end, slowly sliding into his half-brother. By logic he should be feeling sick for taking his own relative, but there was no feeling of sickness or dread. They were too far lost. A rather large shiver coursed through Lucivar’s whole frame once they were connected, and so it coursed through Daemon as well. He leant down against the winged one and whispered a soft hushing into his ear. Lucivar quietly exhaled. It was pure ecstasy.

As the thrusts came on heavier and heavier, their specific cries were lost to each other. They only needed to feel and they only needed to hear each other, but did not need to know what was being said, because with each noise there was new desperateness added. The fire in the fireplace grew more rapidly with the closer they got to their fulfillment. Then, finally, Lucivar’s cries made sense again. “Oh, oh…Daemon!” And then both collapsed into a frenzy of trying to catch their breath, but there was no catching breath after an experience like that. Daemon noticed a similar sheen of sweat on himself as there was on Lucivar. Their touches were wicked and welcomed; they certainly were their father’s sons.

The two would never let the experience happen again; but neither of them ever forgot it, and sometimes in their deepest of dreams while they are each lying next to the woman they love, the memory is unlocked once again; they enjoy it behind shut lids and quiet mouths. Falling in love with the women they ended up with had not been easy for them, but sliding into lust for each other had.