Chains of Darkness





I. Dusk

October 7th


His open palm traced the white skin. Over the chest, down to the navel. Naked flesh. Marble hard. He wasn't awake now...He was dead.

Nathaniel whimpered softly and continued letting his hand stroke over the beautiful skin. The blood inside was still... The heart was at rest. Preserved in time this icy mask, this creature that fooled death every night...who ignited by his kin's black fire rose from the eternal peace and carried a soul...*His* soul...

He loved him so much, it ached inside!

Nathaniel sobbed and closed his eyes, tried to keep his tears back while he rested his cheek against the smooth skin of Damian's chest. He sat on his heels beside the still body on the bed. His braid coiled like a thick rope down to the mattress. He was dressed. He didn't want to be.

It shouldn't end like this.

Wasn't supposed to...

"Then how, Nathaniel," a voice inside of him spoke. "How was it supposed to end if not like this? How were you supposed to prevent it? To keep it up?"

He sobbed again, the sound of it filled the room like a scream. So alone in here, with the shell of his lover. Maybe he could die too, he thought. Be gone and not think...

He lifted his head from Damian's body and sat up, pulled the soft, grey tank over his head with slow motions, opened the button and zipper and wriggled his jeans down over his hips. Damian wasn't naked. He wore a pair of red silk pajamas pants, but Nathaniel wanted to be...So he pulled his pants down all the way and kicked them off the bed.
He lifted the thin covers that partly hid his lover's body and slid towards him.
He wouldn't know, he thought. Damian would never find out...Then he embraced the lifeless body, snuggled close and nuzzled his nose against the vampire's neck. It smelled so strongly of him there, the scent that was just his: Blood and man. Iron and roses. A little bit of cat, a hint of vanilla... Nathaniel's scent.

It tasted salty now, the skin. It was because he had cried on it. Stained the pristine marble canvas with something bitter and foul.

He had no right to do this, he thought, not after what he had done the night before. Still he couldn't help but slide his leg across Damian's, rest his palm on his hip. Feel the strong body against his more slender one and bury his face in blood red, soft, cool hair.

"Damian," he breathed. "Damian..."

It aroused him, the closeness, as it always did. Even when he cried bitterly like this he couldn't help but grow an erection against Damian's silk clad thigh. He rubbed himself lightly against the leg and moaned softly through the tears. It was comfort in it, the desire. It was love.

With Damian it wasn't about pleasure alone. It was love. An urge to be closer, as near him as he could. His constant desire meant that he wanted that nearness, always. Yearned for the union, to mate with him and touch the bond between them. Feel that he wasn't alone.
...He had ruined it all. He hadn't been prepared and so he'd destroyed it. The only boyfriend he'd ever had...the only one who had loved him like that....The last six months had been bliss. Since being carried off in Damian's strong embrace, his life had become something else...

He stroke the vampire's broad chest again and shivered slightly. How come that this beautiful, strong male had fallen in love with him? What had he done to deserve it? He had never, ever experienced anything like it...the power of the red-head's embrace. Totally lost in those arms. Given over to the strong, muscular body of his...It made Nathaniel want to open wider, stretch his body and arch against him...made him want to be owned by him...because he felt safe. Because he was pleasure. Because the emerald gaze, no matter how hungry, was warm too, and considerate.

And he would say that he loved him. Would tell him how special he was to him...He would hold him when it was over and let him rest there, in those arms, wrapped in the light scent of cinnamon and clover from his deep red hair. Rest under velvet sheets... Damian was kind to his kitty...

Nathaniel loved him so much, he felt he would choke. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the vampire...

He had been his boyfriend...Nathaniel started crying again. He should have known it couldn't last. He wasn't made for such things. Wasn't made for that kind of love. The self-loathing came pouring in and he felt like a thief, stealing this closeness to Damian. He had no right...not anymore.

The vampire wasn't his now...Not someone he could reach out and touch or sleep next to. That intimacy was gone. His fingers went to his own neck and he felt the faint swellings from the night before, the puncture marks...just scars now, he wouldn't have felt them if he hadn't known they were there...

Oh yes, he had proven himself the night before, hadn't he? Poor Damian, he who was so proud of having a lover like Nathaniel...He most certainly wasn't anything to be proud of, even if he had felt like he was...just that, sometimes, when he was with Damian...When his arm curled protectively around his waist or his hand lay on his shoulder, guiding him...showing him off...Nathaniel gave a bitter smile through the tears. Damian had made him feel so special...How horrible it must have been for the vampire to realize Nathaniel was nothing like that...not someone you respected or treasured as a gem. He had made a fool out of his lover last night...most of all he regretted that...that he had disappointed him so, been such a failure...Damian must have been so ashamed...Nathaniel had made all his dignity a joke.

He probably hated him now...

Would probably hit him across the room, rip him open and throw him out when he woke up...It was ok. He had every right. All Nathaniel wanted to do was curl up and disappear. Be gone from Damian's world...be somewhere he could grieve in peace. Cry all those tears that seemed to have no ending...He didn't care what happened to him...really did not care.

He couldn't handle good things in his life. Couldn't bear it, it seemed. Undeserving of it all. He should go back where he belonged, deep down in the gutter. He had no place in Damian's arms. In his embrace. It seemed almost a joke, that he had considered himself the vampire's lover...been happy, there...Safe with him. Counted on his love and company.

Damian had become his anchor...in these last short months. Something he relied on that made his world wonderful and pure...Wonderful and pure and sexy all at once. What a lover he was! So powerful and strong...Naughty in all the right ways. Nathaniel would catch himself smiling wildly, almost laughing with joy sometimes when the charismatic and beautiful male made love to him. He was overthrown, overruled and paralyzed by him...and it had never felt so good. It brought forth the kitten in him, the playfulness and the grace...he felt so beautiful under Damian's touch. Thrilled that such a masculine, proud warrior would love him and keep him. It had been so special, being his. More special than anything he'd experienced before...the most wonderful thing in his life...
And now it was gone...

The bitterness was harsh. Dripping with hate towards himself... He felt almost feverish with regret...When Damian had punished him, he decided, he would cut off his braid. Get rid of the long hair. He didn't need to be beautiful then.

Death would be too easy. Death would always come. He didn't deserve that solution. He wanted to suffer, be punished...and maybe Damian wouldn't even care doing it. Maybe he would just...give him that icy stare from last night and turn his back to him. Expect him to find his way out on his own...pretend that he didn't exist...and maybe he didn't, for Damian, anymore...

He was so proud, so brave and strong. So noble...Nathaniel had ripped all that honor away from him. He remembered how proud he'd been, how utterly amazed, when the vampire first had spoken to him and flirted with him. He had always thought him handsome, devilishly attractive actually...It hadn't been hard falling in love. Hadn't been hard at all.

He'd been so happy...felt so loved.

How could he hurt Damian so bad? Been so weak?

He had never deserved him. He had always known that...He should have warned him...that there was nothing of value for him to discover and keep, in Nathaniel. Still he could let the vampire's still, lifeless body go. He clung to it now. Brushed his lips across the pale throat, felt his nipple under his palm, pushed his erection into closer contact with the juncture between Damian's hip and thigh. If he closed his eyes he could pretend the other was awake. Pretend that the deep green eyes looked at him. That he would lift his hand to stroke down his hair, down the braid and ask him to let his hair out. That he would, take him in his arms and hold him, sink his fangs into his neck while his fingers played across his body. That he would...rest his hands on Nathaniel's hips and push him backwards on the bed until he lay on his back and kiss his stomach...caress him between his thighs, roll his balls and cock in his palm and lift his legs, spread them... Nathaniel shuddered with delight and opened his eyes.

Damian lay dead on the bed. Nathaniel's erection leaked beads of pre-cum on his pajamas pants. He blushed...His fingers had began rolling the resting dead's nipple and he quickly let it go. It was so quiet in the room. Death's silence.

Too late, he thought, and rolled away from Damian's resting form. It would never be like that again...He swallowed hard and curled into a little ball on the other side of the bed. Made sure he wasn't comfortable by kicking off all the blankets and sheets and removing the green satin pillow from under his head: Exposing his pale, naked flesh to the cool air. He made sure nothing of him touched Damian; that his braid lay in place as a straight rope down his back. He embraced his own knees and rested his forehead against them. Wanted to sleep there, by him...not touch him, not rest...just stop thinking and be there, near him...Wait for his punishment, wait for the sun to set.


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