Title: Dark Paradise
Author: Daisy
Fandom: Lollipop Chainsaw
Setting: San Romero
Pairing: Lewis Legend/Swan, Zed/Mariska, Vikke/Josey, Nick Carlyle/Juliet Starling, Gideon Starling/Elizabeth Starling
Characters: Lewis Legend, Swan, Zed, Mariska, Vikke, Josey, Yumil, Chat, Juliet Starling, Nick Carlyle, Rosalind Starling, Cordelia Starling, Gideon Starling, Elizabeth Starling
Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Drama/Humor
Rating: M/E
Chapters: 1/?
Word Count: 1376
Type of Work: Chapter Story
Status: Incomplete
Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Pre-Slash, Alcohol Use, Underage Drinking, Mentions of Dub-Con, Pining, Thirsty!Lewis Legend, Top!Lewis Legend, Bottom!Swan, Het, Straight, Fluff, Angst, Anal, Oral, Self-Imposed Orgasm Denial, Power Bottom, Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Homophobia, Bullying, Abuse, Biting, Bruises, Drunken Trysts, AU - Canon Divergent, AU - Friends For Hire, Un-Beta'd
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: One bad decision breeds a thousand more, and Lewis would give up anything to be the man he was the night before.
AN: So, this idea has been sitting around for a while, and now I'm unable to let it just go. So, I figured I could try and get some of this started up. I hope you guys enjoy!
The Friends For Hire AU involves Swan summoning the Dark Purveyors to be his friends and protectors. He has them move into his house, and his parents are away on almost-permanent vacations. They just let him have run of the house and he has a fairly deep stipend to take care of things (food, housing, bills, etc). I will have all Friends For Hire AU related things tagged as such. ouo On to the story!
Chapter One: Live While We're Young ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lewis rolled his tongue, thick and pungent, around his mouth for possibly the fiftieth time that day, and it was only 9:30. Guarding Swan was one thing, but crawling out of his cool, dark room to join the boy at school today was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Last night had been a wild party, and he wasn't sure he'd last the day out with this bad a hangover, on top of being dead.
Then again, what had they expected? In retrospect, giving a damn viking zombie a giant, flying airship was probably the worst idea in all of Rotten World. It had seemed the best the night before, of course, when he'd taken it over to some Nordic country or another, and terrorized a town until they gave up their best, most hard-hitting alcohol. Now, Vikke was a big guy, imposing and intimidating, and it had only taken thirty-eight shots before he and Zed had started hollering and whooping, naked and testing the weight of the large wooden dining table in Swan's home. Nobody really could pin just when Mariska had lost her clothes, but it hadn't taken long before she was crooning songs to Mother Moon and talking about all things Vaginal. Josey had found his fun in teasing the Nord, his jacket missing but that damnable diaper still in place, shaking it like he expected cash to rain from the sky. Sometime between him dry-humping Vikke and Zed joining in brokenly with Mariska's music, it had happened.
Swan came, in his mussed, 'after school' way, wearing nothing but a black band shirt and a pair of silky boxers, of course in black, framed by the light from the dining room. He'd yelled at them, told them to tear this party down and get the fuck inside, that this was causing trouble with the neighbors and he couldn't handle another fine, but Lewis didn't hear a single word. That black-stained mouth forming around his every word caught him like a physical blow to the chest, and he hadn't been able to control what had happened next.
Of course, one power of alcohol was that it liked to erase the important bits. He could still see the impossible shape of Vikke's dick in his mind's eye, but everything after the rough kiss he'd given their master was long gone. It came in small snippets, the sight of those thin hips canting up into him, the taste of Swan's soft skin on his tongue, the non-stop cries of 'more, more'. The details were foggy enough that he wanted to beat his own face in.
When they'd woken up, cuddled up in Swan's four poster canopy bed, shit hit the fan. Swan was panicked, covered in the indentions of Lewis' teeth, bruises and bitemarks and the crud beneath his fingernails. As if it would help the situation, the zombie had offered that it didn't have to mean anything, it was just a one-time thing, if it never happened again, he'd be fine.
But he wouldn't be fine.
He'd be on his second deathbed still dreaming of the hazy memory of having Swan at his mercy.
Swan's mind was a muddled mess, today. It was hard to focus on his physics lecture when every time he shifted, he felt how empty he was. Every shift of clothing against his skin made him gasp, and he had to close his eyes and bite his lip, waxy flavored blackness marring his white teeth as he tried not to make any noise. Between trying desperately to stay still and taking notes at the same time, he was already losing his mind.
How could Lewis have done this to him? Taken him, over and over again, so drunk he didn't remember and so careless as to say it 'meant nothing' to him. When he'd walked outside the night before, he hadn't expected to be bent up and eaten alive, losing every plausible Vcard imaginable to a zombie that didn't care what happened the next day. The Dark Purveyors were supposed to be his friends, and here they were, probably mocking him. It hurt to think that the second he and Lewis stepped out of this classroom, the zombie would be busy flipping skirts with his smiles and schmoozing his way to a thousand phone numbers before lunch. He was charming, attractive, and attentive enough to warrant anyone's attention, and it stabbed at the necromancer's heart like a thousand icicles. Oh, that was good. He should write that down.
The bell ringing above them only made pale yellow eyes narrow. Lewis Legend was about to start a blood feud with the sun and anything that made noise, because, damn it, a dead brain with a hangover couldn't have possibly been worse. Closing his eyes to avoid watching Swan hiss and whine and wiggle as he rose, it wasn't until he opened his eyes again that he'd noticed he'd lost the other.
Honestly, there was one thing about this whole 'school' deal that sat wrong with him. The classes were one thing, some of them were challenging, but that wasn't the problem. What became his biggest problem was that the students seemed to think it was okay to touch Swan. That they were entitled to being capable of pushing him, or bumping his shoulder. So what, if Lewis could chat some honking geese away from his master, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
Sluggish blood pumped quicker through his veins as he jerked out into the hallway, pale eyes scanning the hallway for dark, teased hair and pale makeup. No good, he couldn't see Swan at all. A small group of girls tried to talk to him, but he brushed past them, suddenly all sharp edges and an indomitable will to find his master before something happened to him. He parted the crowd of students like the red sea, every last one of them giving him the biggest berth possible as his hand reached back and he pulled his guitar around front, eyes narrowing on a smudge of white powder on the outside of the boys' room on this side of the building. A feral growl parted his lips, the black of his gums bared as he slammed the door open hard enough it cracked the smooth tile behind it.
"Where. Is. He." It was less a question and more a demand to be acknowledged as it wrenched, gravelly and dark, from his lips. Perhaps he should have focused more on the cowering boys that must have captured his master, but all he saw was Swan, strung up like some kind of gothic Jesus between two urinals, out cold. It was one thing for his master not to want him to help, but for him not to have called any of the others? Something must have really been wrong.
"Zed." In a flare of red flames, the zombie in question appeared behind Lewis, eyes narrowed and bowl of cereal forgotten. His mic stand rest in his hand, brandished like a staff at his side. The skinny Dark Purveyor sidled up to his fellow protector's side, a snarl on his face, as the next one arrived in a blue strike of lightning at the call of his name.
"Vikke." The imposing Nord filled the bathroom well enough on his own, pressing the insubordinate cretins to the walls with his sheer size, but the second he caught sight of Swan, limp like that, there was the growl of Yumil to help make his voice heard.
"Mariska." Green smoke filled the room, reminiscent of the scent of skunk, and focused her good eye on their master.
"Josey." With a cloud of fresh smoke rolling from his mouth, purple flames welcomed the last member of the group into the bathroom, and all it took was a slant of Lewis' eyes to get the bathroom cleared.
"Get out." Was added on their heels, and he sauntered over to pick up their poor master, coddling his limp body close to his chest. The other four dispersed as Lewis focused on their home, disappearing in a cloud of black smoke, Swan's head pillowed on the worn leather of his jacket.
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