Warning: Graphic male/male incest. Please turn away if this will hurt your precious mind.
I rage and writhe - claws leave shallow grooves in the hard steel, but some deep part of me knows I shall never break through. Still I fight - the chains that bind me will break someday - tomorrow, the next day, a thousand years from now.
Anger, burning and red courses through my veins. I cannot breathe, no matter how I snap and snarl and howl. It is dark. Metal closes all around me and all that envelops is the frenzy for blood, for flesh and the moon's poison feast. Where is fresh air? My vision crumbles.
I grow more restless by the moment. Wrath seethes beneath my hide - all I long for is the hunt and kill. To turn and create more pack. Where are my children? Why have they not come?
I snarl but lay my ears back, wincing at the sound as reverberates in my tiny, tiny prison. Blood, urine and feces coat my legs but I have no room to lick them away. The scent grows disturbing in the stagnant air.
"Will." I do not bother to look up. The voice that calls matches my own and I would know it anywhere, even if I were blind, deaf, and dumb. "William, come join us!"
I finally tear my eyes from my book. Markus and Twain have been fighting - the shine of his sword in the sun only accents his sweat-coated physique. He looks right at me, brown eyes covered by long, limp hair, and laughs. I am used to his mockery - he knows I have never been one to fight and never will be.
"Not this time," I reply, rolling my eyes and returning to my tome. I do not have to look back up to know he is smiling that naïve, confident fool's smile.
I have turned to my own blood for solace. It does nothing. No warmth returns - human flesh calls to my fangs and rolling tongue, but I receive none. I am deprived. My body slowly wastes. How many moons have passed in this cursed metal prison where the smells are never new and the quiet never ends? I am the wolf that howls to the sky. I belong beneath the sun and moon, not rock. Where is my blood feast?
We change. Markus walks the night, never resting so long as the sun sleeps. His face grows pale, eyes brighter blue than lapis lazuli. He craves meat raw.
"I am afraid, William. I do not know what is happening to me," he says, and I do not know how to reply. Markus has always been the strong one between us. Our younger brother does not count.
When the sun comes and he shutters the windows, shaking in pain and huddling against me, I decide not to tell him of the mark on my own shoulder.
Memories assault me. I have given up on the walls - my large clawed hands make no difference against the steel. Anger comes in bursts even as I long to be free of the chain at least. I pant, drawing shallow breaths, tongue lolling. No room to stretch or move or breath, so I must stand, even asleep.
In a distant time, I begin to hazily recall when my body was smaller, when I could have sat upon this stone floor quite comfortably. Then it slips away as the wolf drowns me in red once more.
I feel the pull of every passing moon. Time stretches and bends, but the creature that I am does not care to mark it. I have started to recognize that something about myself does not belong.
The moon has begun to lose its sway. I feel the lessening of its pull with every passing moment. Some part of me pulls away from the inner animal. Animal, wolf, bloodthirsty beast… I shudder, falling into delicious thoughts of throats and slaughter.
I stand in darkness, where no light ever penetrates. I whimper. What I would give for glimpse of the sun, a glint of warmth.
I start to wonder if I am going mad. But the thought slides as quickly as it comes and I growl.
Who is Markus? Sleep comes indiscriminately, but in dreams I see him, a pale face. Human? I snarl. No, something different. Enemy? Yes. No… I do not understand my own mind. In the confusion the animal takes over once more.
Suddenly and without warning I comprehend. I am no longer human. Changed. I have killed, with claws and fangs and the brutal snap of a paw-like hand. Markus. Where is my brother? I remember now.
Perhaps he has not come because he was slain. I snarl. Whomever kills my pack and imprisons me shall be slaughtered when I am free. No mercy, only the hunt.
I remember what it feels like to have fingers, soft and delicate. But in their place - only claws and rough fur. These cannot feel, not like soft human hands that glide and stroke without harm. If I strain, I am able to brush my knees, so distended and backwards, so different.
White-hot rage cools ever so slowly. How long have I stood here? A week? Years? A century? I do not know. All that I understand comes from the wolf, growling, longing, hungering. Time passes and every moment stretches to eternity. I suddenly recall Father- the human, the immortal.
Is this how he lives? Days without end, no reprieve. But he lives better than I. Outside, amongst the trees and air. Then the wolf snarls and I am no longer thinking.
Markus' wide brown eyes make me pause and consider what I am doing. I had no intentions of getting into a wrestling match with him in front of the brazier. I wanted peace while ha wanted play. My twin never understood the sudden absence of my touch - I had never explained, simply kept away from my mirror image, cursing and praying that my disgusting thoughts would leave of their own accord.
But he had to mock, had to prod at me and invade the close air around my body. And respond I did.
I become aware of my hands pinning his. I had put them there when my leg swept his out and I pushed him over. Our bodies are close, too close. I can feel the heat of his angular body pressing against mine. The thoughts rise full force, even more sinful than the curse of our father's immortality.
"William." I jerk, pulling my hands away hastily and trying to stand. But he catches me, legs wrapping around my waist, and pulls me off balance and into him. Shocked, I freeze, flush to his chest and our noses touch. His lower body is pressing against mine - so hard I choke - and my groin throbs.
And Markus is smirking, appearing confident, smug. But he does not fool me, and he is shaking and I feel his quick pulse against my own chest. "William?" His voice is too much for me to take. I cannot… I give in to long-standing temptation, capturing his lips. They are hard and chapped from the sun and wind. I revel just for a moment, biting at them, and Markus gasps into my mouth. Startled back to reality, I stop. He is red, flushed and wide-eyed. He is a man caught unawares.
And I have just committed a grievous sin. "Markus, I-" I start, but Markus places a hand over my mouth. His gaze is deep, and a look I have never before seen creeps across his face.
"Brother, speak no more." The word is like a punch to the gut, I jerk in an attempt to leave before I shame myself further, but Markus does not relent. He grabs my jerkin and pulls me down, and his lips rise to meet mine. The moment of utter shock passes. I cling to him and he to me, arching upwards so hard that I begin to ache.
Almost unconsciously my hands pull his shirt from his belt, stroking upwards over his torso. His tongue is dancing over my teeth, but the moment my fingers find a hard nub he moans, hips jerking involuntarily. In response I grab and twist, eliciting a cry I am almost certain will shatter whatever mood is upon him. But his fingers are suddenly scrabbling at my lower laces, trying to pull them out. I push his hands away, and his hips drop. When I look, he gazes back intensely. "Markus." His eyes drop to half-mast, still staring. Gently, I set a hand on his groin. Markus' eyes flutter and he groans. He wants this. Something feels fit to burst inside me, and with a few practiced tugs his trousers are loose and pushed down. There is no time to hesitate or bask in the moment. I take him into my hand squeeze slowly, drawn out. A moan escapes - though from who I am not sure. When I release him his face contorts and he scowls at me. But I am confident now, and I move down. Markus jerks when my lips touch his manhood, but my hands are already on his hips, pressing him to the stone. Then I open my mouth and take him in fully, sucking and stroking with my tongue. His hands fist in my hair and Markus begins to buck. I let him, keeping his hips controlled and bobbing my head with his movement.
Heat courses through me and my own loins cry for attention, but I ignore them for the moment. For nary a year I have dreamt of this, and I shall not spoil it by attending my own needs first. Markus, my brother, will always place above all else in my mind.
"William!" My name escapes through a moan and the sound makes me moan in return around Markus' member. It seems to be his undoing, for my brother writhes beneath me. I press my face down, teeth scraping against him. Markus cries out, knees clenching about my shoulders. "William, I-" I pull away just before he releases, his stomach rippling and his brows wrinkling at the onslaught pleasure. As Markus lays back to recover his breath, I release my own dripping loins from their bonds. With two short jerks, my seed spills to the floor. I look up to see Markus sitting up, staring at me. My own gasps were not missed.
"Markus, I…" The look I receive stops all words. Markus leans in, his lips meeting my own in an uncharacteristic act of tenderness.
"I love you, brother," he says, his voice much deeper than usual. Then he touches me, pressing low, and I feel my pulse throb once more.
Human. I remember what it means to be human, to be in love and to make love. Before this form, there was a soft, pale neck. Before the fur there was smooth skin. Before the thick, overlying muscle there were supple veins and tendons that moved gracefully, without the jerk of startled animal instinct.
How desperately I want to be me again, able to feel every breath acutely and to think beyond the ravenous, driving hunger. And my bones creak, cracking. Something spreads through me, unsettling. Pain comes, agony in delicious waves and I am howling, howling with the little breath I have as every part of me cracks and breaks and builds again. Before long the howl is a mere scream and I am lying on stone. The stink of my own excrement haunts my nose, though the last of it has long since dried to dust. I shiver, shuddering. I am suddenly cold, and I wrap arms around me to fight it off. And on those arms are small, delicate human hands. Instantly I run them over everything, over every part of my body. All bones. I have wasted. My hands brush from face to groin and I shiver.
Markus. Why have you not come? I need you. This fury inside me will not be held at bay for long.
A hot wetness creeps from my eyes, still unable to see in the utter darkness.
My tears are long ago spent, and I no longer recall the sun. I do not remember its heat, nor its light. Only the moon holds fast in my mind, but even that fades as the moments creep by.
Human hands have explored every crack in my prison, but to no avail. Every seam is melded tight. But at least in the change I am free from the iron manacles behind me. No longer is every small movement completely impeded.
Markus has had much experience with women. Before, it seemed as though there was a never ending line of village maidens at our manor door, all eager to partake of my brother's prowess in bed. This is one of the reasons I so hesitated to approach him. He is my kin, my blood, and well experienced in the pleasures of sex with women.
I, however, was much more secret about my endeavors. I suspect Father knows of my conquests, but he is never one to deny his sons anything. So Markus does not know about my experiences with the few village males whom could be convinced, with or without money, to keep our matters secret.
Because of his inexperience, it is I who must take the lead. It is I who finds oil and pushes him onto the bed. It is I that persuades him, finally, to spread himself for me.
Markus is unsure, but soon he is gasping the way I so love, under the painful pleasure of my fingers inside him. Then we are ready. I push in, slick, and Markus winces. It takes every bit of my willpower to remain still, for the tightness that surrounds my member urges me to moves. Markus settles, expanding to accommodate me, and he smiles. I take a moment to brush a long lock from his face, then press in and push. He lifts hips, rising up to join the rhythm and, by God, the tightness and pleasure and absolute rightness of the moment is my undoing. Before I know it I grip his hips, driving into him faster, harder than I should. Markus does not protest, seeming to revel in it. He moans and bucks and strains against me until I am nearly blind, overwhelmed.
And then my brother cries out, contracting and driving me far, far over the brink. I strain against him in one long push that tightens every muscle down to my toes. My own shout turns into a wet gasp as I withdraw, collapsing to the side. Then I see the blood that coats us both and I jerk.
"I am so sorry, brother! I was not careful-" Guilt floods me. I was careless and injured him. Markus will find me disgusting now and I will not blame him- A large hand against my chest interrupts my distress and I finally bring myself to gaze into matching brown eyes.
"Cease the wretchedness, William. I do not blame you for being carried away," Markus licks lips and before I know it he is pressed flush against me once more. "I do not blame you at all." He says this with such a wicked grin that I cannot help but smile wanly back and kiss him.
The next day we depart late for a hunt and it grows late before we return. Taken unaware in the dark, we were bitten. And Fate cast the hand of the next millennium.
I have gained a routine over time. While awake I shall remain as a wolf. My animal form has powerful lungs that allow me to pull in air more easily. Being in this form also helps me calm the part of my mind that rages and lusts for flesh, though I can do nothing to satisfy the craving. When I begin to feel drowsy after long periods of standing and looking into darkness, I shift in to my human frame, which allows me to curl upon the floor and give some relief to my endlessly aching bones.
There is no point to this life. I do not grow or change, learn or become strong. Instead I sleep and stare into never ending darkness and wonder and imagine and slowly, slowly waste away.
Some times, I dream of ending this existence - of digging sharp claws into my throat or eyes and keeping them there until I've bled dry, or bashing my more fragile human head into the steel wall until nothing is left but the pulp of a brain. Perhaps that is what my prisoners are hoping for. I do not know. I do not remember them.
The only thought that keeps me from such a gruesome end is Markus. If Markus is alive, he will find me, even if it takes him a thousand years.
Days slip by unnumbered, but I no longer care. How long have I spent in this immortal shell? I remember nothing from my time as a wolf before this prison. I slip in and out of consciousness and human form. I have scrutinized every tiny memory from my life as a human, pure human. If I have to leave this earth soon, I shall go with no regrets.
How many hundreds of years have passed? My mind feels fresh, clean and free of animal instincts. But that could be the madness making itself known.
Our bond is stronger than you think. The words echo in my mind as I awake. The words sounds so much like something Markus would say that I chuckle, but it comes out as a mere rasp. Some much time has passed without liquid that my body can no longer be bothered to cough in response. Another basic human instinct gone.
Markus. Markus. Markus. Another moment where I am overcome with longing. I whine, claws sliding uselessly across steel. Please come for me. I am mad. I am wasting.
I want to die.
I do not know for how long I have been awake, staring into blackness. It is just another moment in the endless parade of emptiness. I stand still and quiet, though my paws hurt. I have long since given up complaining, even to myself.
And then there is a scraping sound that reverberates through the walls of my prison. The first real noise in the silence of forever. Stone against stone, my brain volunteers, then footsteps.
My jailor? I shall rip him to pieces and feast on his flesh, if I could but move. And then right outside. A click, click. The screech of metal and chains. No sound escapes me, for I cannot believe what is happening. They cannot possibly be opening this tomb. But the floor shakes and the piercing wail of metal is unmistakable.
Then the doors part, so, so slowly. Every ounce of my willpower goes into holding myself in place. There is light - it is bright, it burns, and I love it. For a moment my eyesight is gone, and when it returns I can make out a figure. I breathe real breath for what seems like the first time. And I smell vampire, and something else. Vampire - I remember! The cold pain of silver hooks, digging in and dragging me, the fear, and agony. I take a step forward, then another. Anger. I will kill this being who thought he could jail me!
"William... No, William, no! Calm down! Be still, brother... it's me, Markus!" The words take several moments to filter through my rage. And then I pause. No, it must be a trick, it cannot be - I breath in. His scent…so different, old, vampire and something else. But underneath lies Markus. I can see him. But I cannot touch him, not like this-
He smiles up at me, triumphant. He's grown older and I can smell the strength wafting from him in waves. Markus has changed. My brother is strong now while I grew weaker, wasting away. A part of me wants to be angry, but I am so very tired. Markus has come - everything will be alright.
"William, we must leave." He says this loudly, motioning to the entrance where I can smell the current of fresh air. He is acting as if I were a small child, or too far gone to understand him.
But… Markus does not know. Oh, brother. You have saved me without even realizing that I no longer steep in the blood madness….
With this thought my bones crack. Markus jerks, jumping backward before he can control his reaction. His eyes are wide, blue as crystal ice and staring. But I do not stop, shrinking and compacting bones and muscles until, finally, I stand erect. Hair in my face blocks the eyesight I have not used in so long. I brush it away and look at my brother. He has grown so strong, so different beneath the exterior. I do not know what to say.
So I simply settle for, "Markus."
My brother twitches, stepping toward me warily, almost as if he cannot not believe his eyes. "I-" he swallows. "I don't understand…The old curse…you shouldn't be able to regain your human form. I- William." My name sounds strange and choked in his throat. He is frozen. And my assumption confirmed.
"You thought I was a raging monster, yet you still came for me?" I croak. I watch his face, but his expression does not change and his eyes stay fixed on mine. "Markus…"
Saying his name once more finally gets a reaction. The vampire flies forward, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck. At first the wolf in me rebels at the close contact, but then it senses something in Markus, something familiar, and gradually allows me to relax even with the danger so close to my throat.
"No, brother, never a monster. Not you. I never wanted you imprisoned. They promised not to harm you. William-" I cut him off, pulling him to face me, eye to eye. I touch his bearded cheek - a gentle stroke to remind myself this is real and not my imagination. But I am certain.
"Markus, you know my values. You know…the wolf has pushed me to kill where I would not otherwise. Even my old self would consider me a monster." My voice is diminished to nearly nothing. "How long?"
It takes but a moment for him to understand. "Eight-hundred and four years, two months and seven days," he whispers, sounding almost afraid. I suddenly realize I am shaking. I bury my face in his shoulder, pressed against skin I have not tasted in nigh eight-hundred years.
"Thank you for coming for me, Markus." I know that is what he needs to hear. He was afraid I would be angry at him for not saving me sooner. Perhaps I am, but I quickly deign never to speak of it. We have both suffered enough. I pull away slightly. "You mentioned leaving?"
Only then do I become aware of my own nakedness. So, apparently, does my brother. He palms my face into a kiss far shorter than I approve, then takes off his strange jacket and drapes it over my wasted frame.
"The wind is blowing and the ground is covered with snow. If you go out like that you'll freeze to death."
I frown, trying my best to force some more words out. "Do not be a fool, Markus. You will freeze just as easily." I motion to his chest, now completely devoid of clothing. He halts, hands still on my shoulders, and he will not look at me.
"I…I have become different, brother. I no longer bear mere vampire blood in my veins -lycan also beats within me. I am a…hybrid." Markus still looks away. I cannot bear it. I do not understand his feeling of shame.
"Then we are more alike than ever. Why is this such a bad thing?" Just as I finish, Markus steps away. I make to follow, but he holds up a hand.
"I will show you." Then his bones crack and he shudders. Long appendages spring from his back, unfurling until long gray wings are revealed. I find myself breathless as the transformation slows and stops. His skin has morphed from bone white to dark gray, slick and shiny. His frame is tall, muscled and bulky. And his face…his nose and ears are strange and enlarged like a bat's and his eyes are deep-set and dark in a skull-like face. A veritable stranger stands before me.
"Do you not think me hideous?" For a moment I do not understand. Markus has never been one to care much for his appearance. But the meaning of the question soon comes clear. He is afraid that I will be repulsed. I walk forward and lay my head on his chest. His skin appears cold and clammy, but is actually warm. His heart beats far faster than I recall.
"No, Markus. You are here despite the monstrosity I have become. Your new form does not disgust me," I smile at him, weary and cold. My head feels light for the first time in centuries, and I am tired. "Let us leave," I say through a sigh. Memories of a soft bed, warm hands and long auburn hair brushing my face call to me. I hardly muster surprise when my brother sweeps me up instead of leaving me to walk out of the strange, damp cave alone. Arms braced under my knees and shoulders, he carries me like a frail maiden - but I do not protest. There is a time and place for a man's dignity, and it must be saved for a time when the unending helplessness of my prison is buried by time.
As the first rays of moonlight fall upon me I gasp, staring upwards. I want to howl, revel in the joy of the sky, but Markus adjusts the cloth about me one more time, pulling me tight against his chest. Before I know what is happening we are airborne, gliding through the starry night. Markus flies faster than any falcon - I shut my eyes, unused to such motion. Some urgency fills him, but I do not question. Words are impossible in the rush of icy air, spinning my hair into wild knots and freezing my limbs. If not for the warmth of Markus' body I would undoubtedly die. The time for questions will come later when we are safe and warm. I hope that time comes soon, for Markus and I have much to discuss.
I know nothing, but I am content. If not for my brother, I know I would still be that raging wolf, destined only for the kill. A growl stirs in my chest but I stifle it, burying my face in Markus' neck and pressing a kiss to dull skin.
Brother, your memory has saved me.
A/N: Lo and behold, my first smut scenes ever! Although most of my readers probably wish they were in my Harry Potter fics instead of here. Just something to get me out of my writer's slump. Completely unbetaed and purposely fragmented. Please let me know if you enjoyed it. :D