Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: sexual content
A/N: I have no beta, please excuse any mistakes herein
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne, Ville/OC (in parts)
Previous Parts 1,2,3,4,5i,5ii,6,7,8,9i,9ii,10i,10ii,10iii
Previous Parts 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17
I devoured his mouth instantly. My fingertips tore at the linen clumsily like a greedy child. The sound of the pearl buttons popping free and showering down onto the hard floor in the glittering firelight wove itself with his angelic breaths into a tapestry of sensation. I gave myself over to passion completely, tugging at his silken hair, biting his swollen lips as if was trying to pull a secret from them and watch reverently as he began to undress me. My head swam from anticipation and excitement, my greatest fear now only that I would not be able to pace myself and ruin this beautiful reunion. I remember the words, and I tell you them now in the full beauty of their native tongue-
“Sydämeni on sinun” he said softly. My heart is yours . I was once again dazzled by the way in which he spoke, the melting quality of his words and the way his words barely seemed to disturb the air that I had missed so very much in those years lost from him. There are so many of us bound by love, even after they are gone.
I felt his bare arms around me again, the strange charge of his touch making me shudder somewhere deep inside my conscious mind. I felt his skilled fingers bringing up my heated animosity from my formidable desire, the slow rhythmic motions of his delicate fingers as he entered me a little roughly for my purpose. He was my painted angel again as he was in those winter nights years before, the elder teacher and most marvellous lover my mind could have created.
I don’t think I hesitated, for I was wild for him, but I barely recall. What is vivid is that we lay together and that, though I had failed by some chastising degree of morality, I had not failed him at all. I did not fail the two of us as men, and afterward there was a sense of drowsiness and exhilaration that left precious little capacity for shame. I belonged to him now once more, quite completely. I was drenched in the scent of his humanity, of his sweat. I wanted nothing but to be with him and to sleep beside him that human sleep, and that the warmth of him would penetrate my inevitable dreaming.
I loved Emmanuel the way I had loved so few in my life. I loved him through temptation and through giving into that temptation, and nothing would ever make me deny that love myself, to him, or to God.
“Will you see me again?” He whispered intimately, the lilting uncertainty evident in his tone “ Now you’re here…I don’t believe I could let you go”
“Yes. Don‘t ever think I won‘t” I smiled, kissing him sleepily. He let his hair tumble across my face once again, ghosting his fingers in the most tender parts of me as we remained naked in the dim light of the parlour floor.
“Then I shall mourn the days ‘til your return, my once-estranged miracle”
When I left him before dawn I knew that I had brought myself back from the realms of the insubstantial, and that with his loving heart I, for the monster that I was, could live to wake another night.