Disclaimer: I own and clain nothing but this particular plot, child of my imagination and boredom.
A/N: My first DF fiction. I hope you enjoy - there are simply too few fics on this topic out there. After all who doesn't enjoy a little twisted incest-y Dresden action? ;)
Night of the Silver Rope
There is something utterly wrong with having to see your own brother in so much pain. No human should have to see their own flesh and blood in such a position.
Even less should a human be facing the moral dilemma of leaving that same flesh and blood of their own in pain that would ultimately drive them insane and turn them into a merciless monster or prevent it.
Of course the second option would be the obvious choice but when it entailed either killing them or giving them another human whose life force they will devour it stopped being obvious and became excruciating.
Thomas was writhing in the middle of the so called living room, hands bound over his head by an elf-made rope containing unicorn hair. It was able to withstand the desperation of his demon, dangling him a few feel off the floor in a mass of fury and hunger.
The room had gotten colder in the last hour after he himself had asked, begged, me to tie him up so he would not hurt anyone again. His skin had paled and his features elongated, his eyes were flickering silver. Raw sexuality was blasting off him in waves so strong even I couldn't help my eyes from straying every once in a while as my mental defenses weakened in view of my brother's pain.
And I had no damned clue what to do.
I couldn't let him go so he could go and suck the life out of some unfortunate soul. I simply couldn't and even if I could he had begged me not to.
After Justine he would not make it out of another deep feeding with his mentality intact..
I sure as hell wasn't about to kill him too. No way, no how, nuh-uh. Dear Uncle was more than my fair share of slaughtering family members.
So all I could so was sit there, as far away as I could, head buried in my hands that were clutching at my hair. I tugged and cursed, not wanting to look up and see the terrible beauty of my own brother's pain.
God damn it! It just wasn't fair!
And I didn't even have Bob to ask for help.
The Hunger had snuck up on me and partially on him earlier tonight but I had already sent the spirit out gathering information for the night and there was no way he would be back before the last possible minute I had allowed. That minute was more than eight hours from now.
Resisting the urge to bang my head on the floor or perhaps cry I stood and paced, again. I did my best to ignore the inviting calls and subsequent snarls of rage from the other side of the room.
If I waited two things will inevitably happen.
One I will escape the vampire thrall and watch my last living relative die a horrible drawn out death over the next five or six hours.
Or option two, I shuddered – I will be drawn by the desperate energy and Thomas would at long last feed.
See what I mean when I say it wasn't fair?
I paused, considered it then my head hit the wall with a brain –jarring force.
I grunted and cursed once more but it didn't help my get any sudden clarity. No flash insight that would help me out of this one.
Then something intruded on my panicked brain.
The room was silent.
I finally gathered the courage to look back at Thomas who was till dangling but no longer fighting and the silver was flickering in and out of his eyes.
"Don't...let.." a sheen of silver flittered over his eyes but he snared as if in effort and it passed"...don't let…me ..hurt.."
I couldn't look away. His eyes were tortured but there was something of acceptance of his fate there. Something that had been growing since Justine. Something that had given up….
"There's nothing…."he was speaking slowly as if struggling to force the words out"…love you…brother…don't blame…"
The silver rose again and his body glowed whiter, his eyes closed and the next time they opened they were silver and beautiful and so alluring….
With a cry I wrenched myself away from the vampire's allure and fell against the wall.
Oh god. I can't do this. I can't.
No more. Hadn't I suffered enough in my godforsaken excuse of a life?
How could anyone expect of me to just sit here and watch him die?! I slumped as I knew the answer – because I couldn't ever sacrifice an innocent soul. Not for him, and not for me.
My eyes flickered to the gun sitting innocuously on the mantel of the fireplace, sudden nearly insane thoughts whirling in my mind.
I could take it. Take it and kill him then turn the muzzle and kill myself. Then we will both be at peace and we can reunite in the afterlife. Maybe even Mum will be there and…
Oh God, mum. Would she ever forgive me for doing this to her baby boy?
I couldn't convince myself she would.
Damn it I just can't do this! I can't! I can't! I can't!
My thoughts swirled in a tide of incoherent jumble and my eyes looked up. And met silver orbs of luminescence.
I fell into a cool sea of pleasant sensations.
The first thing that I noticed when I woke up was that I was exhausted and wanted to sleep more.
The second thing I noticed was that I woke up.
My eyes flew open and I stared at the wall to the side of my bed as I tried to force a recollection of why the hell was I there and whose was the warm hand I could fell curled loosely over my waist and hip.
I could remember coming home from the office and talking to Bob, then sending him searching for the new idiot of a sorcerer that seemed to have popped in town.
I remember looking at the empty fridge and thinking I should charge my clients more. Next I remember a thunderous banging on the front door. A ragged Thomas, eyes flickering silver and his skin glowing…
My eyes, I am sure, would have put any of the dishes in my kitchen to shame in the size department as it all came back to me in a rush that did strange things to the color of my face – turning it horrified white to embarrassed red and back again.
And I got the identity of the hand's owner at the same time that same owner chose to turn in his sleep and press closer to my back.
A very male chest warmed the spot on my bare back that I had not noticed was cold and a hip nudged mine as a foot sought a place underneath mine.
I did what any reasonable human would in my situation.
I screamed and scrambled out of the bed, wide eyes staring back at Thomas' drowsy ones, as I hit the floor in a tangle of limbs
He pushed himself a little up and blinked uncomprehendingly down at me.
After a couple of seconds I realized , again, that I was naked and hurriedly brought my legs together, hiding behind them while my face did its famous tomato impersonation.
"Huh?" was Thomas's intelligent response. He blinked drowsy eyes again and asked the obvious question.
"Why are you sitting there naked Harry?"
If there really was such a thing as sudden human combustion I would like a test it. Now.
Instead I could only turn shades of red and white and stare stupidly back. What do you say in this situation?
Thomas blinked once more and shook his head. He frowned at the pillow. Then his face followed mine's lead turning white, then red, then white again.
All I could do was sit there and hug my knees.
"Oh God…", he choked and fell silent.
I shifted uncomfortably and reached a hand, dragging a bathrobe from the back of the chair by the bed. Then I hastily covered myself with it.
Only then did I dare look back to Thomas.
He hadn't moved. Braced on one forearm and I could see a tremor in his muscles...
…trembling muscles, strong but supple under his fingers, breathless moans and a heat engulfing him….
Forcefully I shook my head and tried for a normal voice as I cleared my throat.
"Are…you okay?", what the hell was I supposed to say? What?!
The shaking picked up and I felt a stab of fear.
Picking up the remains of my courage I slowly stood, making sure to put on the robe in a way that didn't show much of my skin and took a step to the bed.
Thomas rolled away, dragging the covers with him and sat with his back to me.
"Thomas? Speak to me damn it!"
There was silence then a pained voice came from my brother's lips.
The agony in it was almost palpable.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to step over and ask why the hell he was apologizing yet I wanted nothing more than to go and hide somewhere dark. Preferably for a long time or until the memories of…
…searing lips, hot skin and strong hands, caressing, claiming….
"I…I'll go make breakfast"
Call me a coward and you would be right. So I stopped before turning the corner to the livingroom.
"You…", I took a deep breath" You have nothing to be sorry about. It wasn't your fault"
Then I fled.
A/N: Nothing explicit but I think it gets the point across :) Review and who knows - the muses might strike me for a sequel. Thank you for reading!