Beyond the Pale Contest
Title: Fire, Blood, Truth
Pen Name: vampireisthenewblack
Disclaimer: You really think Stephenie would do this? Yeah, nah. Not mine.
Image that Inspired You: Nine.
To see other entries in the Beyond the Pale Contest, please visit the C2 page:
Summary: Too young to be changed, but Aro had no choice. When Alec wakes, Aro feeds his bloodlust—then shows him a wholly different kind. Slash, NC-17. BEYOND THE PALE CONTEST ENTRY. Warnings in A/N, please read.
BIG DRAMATIC WARNING LABEL – READ ME, I MEAN IT!
I worry, see, that you've clicked through from an author alert, and have no knowledge of the Beyond the Pale contest. Below I've quoted the contest description from the Beyond the Pale contest page:
"A contest for one-shot stories inspired by images that imply secret desires, habits, and happenings. Fetish and deviance. The forbidden. The socially UNacceptable. What goes on behind closed doors only. What pushes beyond the pale. The otherwise untouchable. The taboo."
This story contains potential squick in the forms of intergenerational sex and possible dubious consent. There is some perfectly natural vampire behaviour in there too. Got it? Okay, cool. Carry on :D
Thanks to ~MynameisSerenDipity, ~venisenvy, ~tjbaby & ~kblacknightingale for much needed support, encouragement, and for helping me to whip this into shape.
The fire licks at me, and though I should have been consumed by it long ago, still I scream. I think my sister must be dead already, as through the fog of pain and fire I heard her cries fade away long ago, and still my own torment continues. Or am I dead, and is this hell, to which I have been delivered for my sins?
I cannot help, even through the agony, but ponder my sins, or lack of them. For did I not believe I was doing good as I took away the effect of my dear sister's dark and horrific gift? When I realised that it was I who could cease the torment she wreaked upon those who earned her ire I thought: Here, I can be of some good use.
Yet they lashed me to the stake the same as she and lit the pitch at our feet.
For that I am punished. I wonder, shall the devil come to me or will it be the fire for all eternity?
It feels as if an eternity of pain has passed and I should be ash by now when I realise I can no longer feel the furthest parts of me. Perhaps those parts are ash and I will become dust when more time passes and I will be released from this torture.
I hear a voice, a male voice, soft and musical and kind, and I think that Lucifer has come for me at last because was he not an angel once, and should he not be lovely still?
"It will all be over soon, sweet boy," the devil says in comfort. "Soon the pain will be gone, and you will be by my side for all time and there will be no more pain, or suffering, or persecution."
I scream out for my sister for I fear that she is in some deeper, darker level of hell because she certainly is guilty of sin, for she hurt those she hated by her will alone.
I thought it for the best, I scream. Please, I beg, I thought to stop their pain; forgive me, I did not know I did wrong.
And the devil hushes me, and bids me be strong.
Other voices come and Lucifer speaks to them: "I was saddened to change them so young, and yet there is a bright spot among the darkness. For there is nothing quite so divine as a beautiful child. Look, see the wide eyes, the plumpness of his cheeks. Look, see his beard has not yet grown. So young. Though he is old enough for reason, by many years, he is not full grown, by any measure."
The pain is more now, the fire hotter, burning as if to make my heart liquefy and boil in my chest and I think I hear my heart beating and I feel it and surely it shall explode. I try once more, for countless times I have attempted it, to turn my own gift on myself but I do not have the calmness or presence of mind to succeed nor do I even know if I can succumb to my own ability.
The devil's laughter is like the pealing of bells. "You waste your energy, child. It is near the end, feel your heart as it pounds these final beats. Savour them, remember them, for you shall never feel the like again."
Others come, and he speaks to them too. "It will be soon. Bind this one closely to me, for I have a special interest in him."
I am deafened by the frantic drum that beats inside my body, louder, faster, stronger and I wish to dissolve into ash already, to be delivered.
Faster. Harder. Hotter and sharper and there, there is the moment when it will burst and I shall end.
I wait for it. The explosion in my chest that will make me die a final death. But it does not come.
Neither does the next beat of my heart.
The pain is gone, except for that in my throat, a burning, but nothing in comparison to what it was.
I open my eyes and gaze upon him. And the devil is beautiful, as I knew he would be, with white skin and long flowing black hair and red eyes.
He holds my hand in his. "There you are, my beautiful boy. But I am not Lucifer. My name is Aro, and I am your master. Do you understand?"
I feel a sudden and complete loyalty to him. "Yes."
"My sister?" I ask, worrying for her, that she does still burn for greater sins than mine.
Aro―for how did I ever think him a devil―holds me in his larger arms and strokes my face and hair with curious fingers. "She is as well as you, and you shall see her soon. But come, child. You are thirsty. I have something for you." He looks to the door of the chamber I opened my eyes to only minutes before. "Send the boy in."
The door swings open only halfway, and I am immediately consumed by a scent so irresistible that I have never experienced the like of it before. And I need, and I desire, and a boy enters, one about my age and size and dressed much as I was before they took me and burned me for what I thought was good. My mouth waters and I must swallow the saliva before it drips from my lips. The boy is flushed, and I feel the heat of him from across the room, and I hear a heart beat again but it is not my own, and I hear the rush of his blood as it is pushed throughout his body.
I lunge for him, for the source of the heat and the scent and the instinctive knowledge that only he can calm the burning in my throat.
Bones crack and break beneath my grip, flesh collapses in my fingers, and I care nothing for it as I clamp my mouth on the hottest part of him where the blood rushes thick and close to the surface and the skin breaks apart like that of overripe fruit.
I can focus only on the taste, the sweetness, and the heavy cadence of his heart as hot life pumps down my throat, easing the ache, and I drink, and I drink and there is no thought but for the delicious heat and the thing in my arms lets out a scream that is cut short.
All the blood is gone. I suck at the jagged wound that I have cut in the boy's throat with my own teeth, and still nothing remains.
More. I want more, I know this, and I know that I have a dead boy in my arms, a broken boy, one that moments before had a life until I took it from him. The body falls to my feet with a hollow thud and I step back, horrified, and in that horror comes an instinct to take away the evil I have done. I push it out from me, and it moves slowly to enclose the destroyed child, and I know that it is futile but I cannot stop.
"Come, child," Aro says as he slips his hand into mine. "Come away from it, it cannot be helped now."
I follow as he leads me out the very door that delivered my sin to me and down a corridor and into another chamber. It is vast and opulent, where the last had been plain. Tapestries and mosaics adorn the walls, delicate ornaments stand atop pedestals, intricate carpets lie on the stone floor. A bed dominates the room, made of wood inlaid with ivory and bronze, high off the floor, canopied and draped with elegant damasks.
Aro turns me as I stand at the foot of the bed. "You will gain more elegance with your feeding as time goes on," he murmurs as he examines me, and as I follow his eyes I realise that my skin and clothing is drenched with blood.
I gasp and wipe at my face with my hands, suddenly feeling the sticky substance that coats my chin.
"Calm yourself, my sweet boy." He leaves me for just a moment and comes back with a soft and dampened linen cloth that he uses to wipe away the gore from my lips and face, and placing it down, he lifts his hands to my clothing. Slowly he begins to remove the tunic I wear, that when I had woken, I had much admired, though it did not cover near as much of my body as I was accustomed.
I move to cover myself, ashamed of my nakedness, but he shushes me and soothes me and asks me if I do not trust him. And I have to say that I do; trust, and honour, and obey because he is my master.
"May I not have new garments?" I ask as Aro steps back and announces me clean. I wear not a stitch of clothing, even the sandals I wore have been removed. I feel that I should shiver in this stone room, but I do not feel cold.
"And cover such beauty? I think not," he replies, and I bend easily to his will in my desire to please him.
He looks down upon me, tenderly, kindly. "You were delivered from the fire into my arms, Alec. And I made you whole again. Do you understand that?
I nod yes.
He places his hands upon my shoulders and bends, pressing his lips to my forehead. "And I gave you that which eased your thirst, did I not?"
I again give my agreement.
"And you shall have more. And I shall teach you about this new life I have given you. And you shall learn how to put your gift to use, how to control it and make it useful." He presses his lips to mine, his hands each side of my face.
He pulls away and smiles tenderly. "And in light of all I have given you, and shall give you, will you show me kindness in turn?"
I nod, wishing to repay him, to please him.
He smiles broadly, and kisses me again, his tongue pushing against my lips, but why should he do such a thing? Yet I wish to please him, to thank him for taking me―and my sister―from the fire, and I want him to teach me; I want to learn; I want more blood; so I part my lips and grant him entry.
As he explores my mouth with his tongue, he uses his hands to stroke my skin. My arms, my chest, my belly. I gasp when his fingers brush over the sensitive organ between my legs. I shrink away, embarrassment overcoming obedience, and yet he holds me and lets his hands fall to my thighs.
Aro gives me soothing words, and with his careful touches I soon relax. This time, when he touches me there I do not flinch, instead, I shiver, and feel a curious tingling deep within my body as feather light touches caress and stroke.
I feel that my face should heat as I become aroused, the part of me he holds in his hand growing stiff and erect, and yet it does not. I feel that I should be gasping for breath, and yet I am not, though I make small sounds as his fingers move deftly upon me.
I cling to him, grasping at his silken garments, as if to pull him closer, when he is already pressed so close that I feel his own hardness against my thigh. Without thought, I rub against it, and a sound comes from him that is alike to a growl, but I am not alarmed, distracted as I am, consumed as I am by the way he touches me.
An urgency comes over me, and I have a vague impression of something akin to a long forgotten memory of touching myself the way he touches me, of being unable to stop, and afterwards feeling shame.
But it is faint, as if it were a dream.
"Sweet boy," he whispers, "beautiful boy." He slows the movements of his hands on me and I whimper and protest. "Hush, child," he soothes, and I allow him to turn me and guide me onto the bed. I climb up, on hands and knees, and I feel so exposed, but his gentle hands, one on my hip, one in the small of my back, force me to obey.
His hands leave me, but he moves fast and is soon back as the smell of a fragrant oil fills the room, then his hands return, one caressing my waist as the other takes a gentle path down my spine.
I cry out in alarm as I feel his fingers sliding against my most private place. I don't understand why he should touch me there.
But he soothes me with soft sounds and touches of his free hand as it moves over my back, then there is pressure there and I arch and whimper as his fingers slide inside.
"Shh, my lovely boy. Trust in me, I shall never hurt you, do you understand?"
I have to nod my head, even as it hangs in confusion, because I will do nothing to displease him.
He begins to move his fingers, twisting and slowly turning inside me. He touches a place that makes me shudder and moan, and I don't understand how or why.
Then his fingers are gone, and I sigh at the loss of that feeling, but also in relief, for surely that must be the end of it, but it is short lived, and even as both his hands slide over my hips and backside and up again to grasp my waist comfortingly, there is more pressure there.
He grips me firmly and pushes forward, and I wish to cry out but I cannot, and so I gasp instead as the pressure increases, more, and my body gives way to him.
He stills, and slides one hand up to hold my shoulder as the other comes around in front of me and touches me as he did before. My eyes are wide, staring at nothing as I take heavy breaths though somehow, I know I do not need the air. My inhalations are loud in the otherwise quiet room, and my body moves as my back arches and twists. My body wants to push back, against him, to take more inside, and also to thrust into his circled fingers, but I hold still, unwilling to displease him.
He begins to stroke me as he did before, and I cannot help but surrender to my body's desires. A pleased sound comes from him as I inadvertently twitch my hips and take more of him inside. A thought occurs to me, that such a thing should cause pain, and yet there is none.
"You are strong now, my beloved," he whispers, his voice strained. He groans, and pushes forward again until his hips meet my buttocks and I can feel the cloth of his garments draping over my hips and down my thighs.
He fills me completely, and with his hand on my erection he strokes even as I thrust into his fingers, moving my hips wantonly, gasping and crying out and needing more, wanting more. My head hangs down, all care for composure and obedience forgotten as I strive only for my own pleasure. I beg for more.
"Good boy, perfect child," Aro gasps, and pulls back. I protest at the loss, but then he thrusts forward, and it is better than before and I beg him to do it again. He does, and I cry out wordlessly. He moves faster, thrusts harder and deeper, all the while moving his hand over that part of me, all the while thrusting his deep inside my body, stretching me, filling me, and it is the fire all over again, I am burning, but without the pain. I am consumed by sensation, all parts of me tightening, like in that long forgotten dream, and I convulse and scream and tear at the linens with my fingers and suddenly I am nothing but the pulsing expulsion of all of my sins out over his tight grip and onto the fine linens beneath me.
"Beloved, wonderful boy," he gasps as he grips my hips and thrusts, unendingly, into my shuddering body. I am spent, collapsed onto my elbows, and yet he continues, his fingers digging deeply into my hips, his thrusts violent and inhuman.
And finally, he growls, and stills, and I feel a pulsing as he expels his release into my body.
It's over. And I should feel exhausted, but I do not. I feel shame. As he pulls me down to lay beside him on the vast bed, his arms wrapped around me, still embedded deeply within me, I think that it is one thing to submit to him, but entirely another to have surrendered so wantonly to my own lust. I am here because I was punished for sins I did not commit, does that now give me leave to sin as I please?
I have taken a life, and surrendered to carnality. It is too late for me now. I am damned.
Aro chuckles into my hair as he cradles me against his larger body. "This life I have given you gives you leave to do as you please, inasmuch as those desires coincide with the desires of your master. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," I murmur. I am his, I belong to him, and he may do with me as he pleases. I understand this.
He makes a satisfied sound, and shifts against me. I feel his organ swell inside me, and I arch and cry out as he begins to move within me once more.