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13 November 2008 @ 04:29 pm
Ancient Wounds pt 37  

Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess

Title: Ancient Wounds

Rating: PG-13
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: Violencia
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne, Ville/OC (in parts)

Previous Parts 1,2,3,4,5i,5ii,6,7,8,9i,9ii,10i,10ii,10iii


…Play with him a little…pretend that he is me…

I wanted you to kiss him. I wanted to watch. But I knew that you could not, for even with my permission your lips would burn with the betrayal, like an ember in the mouth because your body swore it belonged to me. My brand was on your heart as cleanly as upon your hips. Nevertheless, here we were, in a bar and playing a game with some nameless street boy offering us both a good time. He was pretty enough, blonde with green eyes not completely different to my own.

…He will never be you, my Lord…

But he was young, perhaps a little too young. But the crueller part of me knew more than most that those who play with danger will sooner or later feel it bite back at them. And for this particular young man, forgive me my love if it will be a little more literal than for comfort. Youth was never a barrier for the horrors of this world, history has taught me that far too well.
You has spotted him outside one of our usual haunts and taken an instant liking to him, you would not admit to lusting after other s I knew what you desired and sought to let you have whatever your wished. Regardless of how little it would mean for you to have him, you adored me too much to share another’s bed. You protected me from the smallest chance of jealousy, as well as your own guilt. You were for me and me alone, but tonight we would dabble in sport.

“Do you like him?” I purred into the blondes ear, my arm around his waist. You were a bit more than a little envious, but I knew that was part of what we loved about sharing our conquests, the little game we would play “I thought you might. don’t you think he’s beautiful?” I asked mockingly, tugging his hair to look up at you.

The stranger grunted at the sharp paint of my nails to his scalp, biting his lip at the sight of your bared chest.

“He’s mine though, completely. But if you asked very nicely, I‘m sure you two could share me …”

I watched as your eyes glinted in the darkness of the private room we had requested, becoming furious as my fingertips stroked a straining bulge beneath the stranger’s denim jeans. The blonde simpley moaned under his breath and lay up against me across the espanssive leather seat we had retired to, his breathing hitching slightly as I unbuttoned and slipped my hand between his thighs. Your face looked the strangest mix of sexual frustration and pained greed. I spoke to you in our silent way to reassure you of my intent, look at the base pleasure of him, he is nothing to compare to you, be not jealous, enjoy him. Your eyes began to smile though your expression changed little, leaning across the panting body of the street boy to kiss my neck respectfully.

“Yes, Master” you whispered in obedience.

“My name’s Daniel” the blonde shivered as you instinctively ran your hands under his shirt, your eyes never taking focus from watching me pleasure him and laugh quietly to myself. You had become violently aroused and I was tempted to throw the boy aside in
favour of having you all to myself, but there would be time for that later.
“Well Daniel,” I smirked, voice a hum above the sound of his orgasm into my hand, your eyes now staring hungrily into mine. I was growing tired of this horseplay, what I wanted now was his blood and your body.

“This is Bam,” I whispered, before grinning shyly to myself “ Tell me, would you mind if I watched him kiss your neck?”

She spent the rest of that night in my bed by my side. Whether we made love is not important or remembered, but she spent the night in my company as I held her and we both wept into the morning. I knew full well in my sickened state that sleeping for once actually in my own bed could have left me open to exposure to the sun, but it seemed to me then that if my sweet girl should awaken that morning to find ash in her arms the world would keep on turning, without much pause or recollection for Ville Hermanni Valo. I wasn’t surprised I did not sleep ‘til sunrise, it was my nature, I remained just thankful that the heavy curtains of my room and the downcast winter proved enough to seal my chambers shut from the cleansing dawn.
When I awoke to the evening I hurt all over. Suvi had gone, to where was anyone’s guess. A strange tranquillity washed over me, the kind of quiet that comes from shedding tears and pent-up anger. I also felt strangely more at peace with the world at the small thing of being able to sleep inside an actual bed again, it made me feel much more human in the symbolic sense of things. Upon dressing and leaving the room for the downstairs parlour I felt a wave of anxiousness take hold, fearing that Suvi might never forgive me and that perhaps our relationship might be in a state of peril should I not be able to find the words to set things right.

I found in the parlour as ever with Jesse, but before I could gage her response I was set upon by my hysterical younger brother.

“Ville! It’s arrived, finally it has arrived!” he chuckled, pulling me into a tight hug and thrusting a non-decrypt piece of paper into my aching fingertips “I opened your letters, I really hope you don’t mind but I thought it quite urgent and you weren’t to be disturbed…”

“What on earth-” I muttered attempting to unfold it without tearing the irritatingly fragile paper, frustrated at being unable to make heads nor tales of the handwritten chicken scratches “What is this?”

“It’s Flowers of Evil Ville, you fool” He laughed, Suvi now at his side silent but at ease “I told you we were publishing it didn’t I?”

And to my shock, yes, all of the above was correct. Well, save a few details, Jesse had indeed meant to inform me that the publishing was under serious consideration by the firm but had left the privilege to Suvi, who had failed understandably to mention anything of the sought during the previous night’s happenings. I suddenly felt the most confusing combination of joy, excitement and concern-the latter entirely on her behalf.

Almost immediately I was whisked off to what would become the first in a long line of parties to establish the details of my publishing. Jarno and Armas reintroduced themselves as my driving workforce and I was asked if my total of one-hundred-and-three poems was the sum of current work. We agreed over a chain of consecutive meetings on editing, form and such formalities that ‘Flowers of Evil In Bloom’ was to be the first of what hoped to be many of my books on verse. These parties continued into December, where I was introduced to Helsinki’s literary inner-circle, my name was circulated and I met with fellow aspiring poets. It was at this time I discovered my habits towards smoking, having been shown to it by Jarno who insisted it was integral to my mystique. Throughout these months Suvi attended the functions at my side, but we did not speak of what had transpired between us for a long time to come. Though I should have been overjoyed at my success, by the twelfth day of December the book was released and Suvi and I had yet to come to terms with our feelings for one another. Something, as they say, had to give.

She sat curled up by the roaring fire in our study room, as ever, reading Baudelaire. I took up the courage to sit beside her, pale with the resolution that I could not go on if we were to remain this way with one another.

“Do you despise me, Suvi” I whispered in the dim light “I hate to be separated from you in this way, do you despise me?”

She did not look up, but swallowed hard.

“Have I given you reason to think thusly, sir?” she replied, turning another page “have I not been by your side throughout your clamber to greatness?”

“In body yes. But still you refuse to know me as you once did. You know that I love you without condition, sweet lady”

Her eyes glazed in the firelight as if she meant to cry, as she tucked her curls back into the clasp at the back of her perfumed hair labouringly.

“Would you have loved me the way I had asked of you if I had been a boy?”

I fell silent, tasting the iron of blood as my teeth pierced the delicate flesh of my lips. I had no words for her consolation. I fell to a whisper, not in question but in statement.

“Why do you say such things…to hurt me perhaps…”

She plunged Baudelaire into the pleats of her gown, throwing herself into my embrace in floods of tears, her arms around my neck like an angry child.

“Am I so selfish to have needed you so? You who took me out of Hell and gave me all things, indulging my every whim!” she wept burying her face into my collar, her dark skin beautiful against the whiteness of my own “Am I so selfish to want you, my father-brother, as lover also?”

I said nothing, holding her tiny form in my arms, stroking her hair solemnly gathering the linen of her dress up around her comfortingly. She sobbed quietly for some time before anymore was whispered-
“Ville, a love like yours I have never known”

I kissed her forehead reassuringly and cradled her in my arms, she was now eighteen years of age but to me she would always be a young girl.

“My love for you is beyond flesh, Suvi. We are beyond such things. You are without rival the only young woman to have pride of place in my heart. My love for you is the first of many outside brothels that will overcome you with such tears. Save them for he who will love you for all your being, not I”

I kissed her cheek once again and put her to bed, exhausted. I knew that while things may change between us, they were to be changes far better than before.

“Forgive me, Ville. I am a fool” She sighed, shivering amongst the softness of her quilts, hair splayed and eyes shimmering in the dark.

Kissing her forehead for the last time that night I smiled down at her “You are not a fool,” I whispered “Just young. They are many a similar thing, sweetheart. There is nothing to forgive, my love”


Sorry for the shortness! But hoped you enjoyed it anyway. I’m on the look out for more inspiration for the more kinky scenes ;) so If anyone has a request or an idea feel free to let me know.

Vampires and muffins,