Warnings: Explicit content. A Slash fiction. Not for the faint-hearted. Cursing, heavy/rough sexual content, violence.
Summary: The whole scenario in the Underworld and the exchange between Nicodemus and the Fallen cause Harry to have violent, erotic dreams of someone who feeds off of that energy.
A/N: Set between the fifth and sixth books of the Dresden Files, before Harry discovers Thomas' secret.
Waking up after being partially concussed is very uncomfortable. Ideally, I prefer to go to sleep and wake up instead of getting my lights knocked out. So when my heavy lids opened and I peered around the dark, dank Underworld, my vision swam in and out of focus. At first, I thought this was because of the icy cold water that was cascading down from above me, probably from some dirty hole. I tried to peer up and look but the flow was too fast, too heavy. I gasped out a breath as pain lanced down my arms and realized they were bound with ropes; the strong, fibrous kind that was sure to leave burns, despite the frigid water. My duster and shirt were no where that I could see but at least I still had my jeans on.
It took only a moment more to take in my surroundings; dark? Check. Wet, creepy and isolated? Check. Cold? Hell's bells, it was freezing. I instinctively began to draw in my power for heat, to will the warmth back into my bones but every time I reached for my magic, it slipped away. It took me several tries before my brain told me what the problem was. Running water drained nearly everything that was magical and that included my own abilities as well. Wasn't that a kick in the pants? I tossed my head, trying to get the hair from my eyes. I knew for a fact that Nicodemus was going to come through the door at any moment.
How did I know? I want to call it intuition but actually, this was my nightmare. I had re-lived this scenario many nights after I was tempted to take Lasciel's coin but I always told Nicodemus the same thing because I'd rather my soul remain mine and mine alone.
"Fuck no." I said to myself, shivering from both the pain and the temperature when I heard the door open. My head snapped up and I saw, not Nicodemus, but Thomas standing there in the same thing he had worn when he had gone to the masquerade ball as a representative of the White Court. I would have gaped but I was too weak, physically, so instead I growled.
"What are you doing here?" I bluntly asked, the anger making it's way to my voice.
Thomas smirked and stalked closer to me, his skin so pale in contrast to hair as dark as my own, even in the dimness. I leaned away as he reached out to press the pad of his index finger against the center of my bare chest. That simple movement made me flinch and then I began to tremble. This wasn't good. The heat hit me acutely and I wanted to curl into the heat, press against it and Thomas grinned at me. He knew what was going on through my head. His eyes were pale gray, nearly white with Hunger and I began to feel panic. My pulse grew quicker and I tugged at the ropes holding me again, ignoring the pain as I pulled away. The unreasonable part of my mind told me to stop being so stubborn and to accept the heat that the energy vampire was offering but that part of my mind was often told to shut up. So shut up.
"Dresden, don't be so cold," he practically purred, putting his whole hand on my chest now with some force. Hell's bells. It felt good. Like drinking a cold Coke on a hot day. I gasped before I could stop myself and twisted left and right to get away, trying to free my legs but they were shackled to the ground by the ankles. The chuckle that reached my ears was anything but human and I repressed a shudder. My eyes darted around the poor excuse for a room as I fought against the physical agony and I tried to formulate some kind of plan. Something, anything.
Nothing came to me.
"Get out of my head, incubus," I snarled and only received a light laugh in return, as if Thomas was simply at a picnic and someone had made a joke that wasn't funny but it was polite to laugh at it anyway.
"Who says this is your head?" He asked in return, gesticulating around the room. "It's your memory, sure. But then why am I here?" There was a glint in his so very pale eyes and he once more drew closer. His chest pressed against mine and there was a primal need that arched through me, making my lower regions betray what my mind was saying.
"D-don't come any closer!" I ordered, bringing my head forward with as much strength as I could muster. A yelp of surprise came from the vampire and I grinned. I got the first blow in. Team Dresden, 1, White Court Asshole, 0. That is, until he backhanded me hard enough to split my lips. I spat the blood out and it was washed down by the continually running water. I had an idea then.
"What's the matter pretty boy?" I sneered, knowing that the water washed away his power too. "Can't get it up?" Truly, those words left before I could stop it. But Thomas was of house Raith and thus, fed on lust and desire. His touch may inflict that upon mortals (and wizards...) but the cursed water became a blessing and let the influence of his touches get washed away. I sighed internally, glad for that, at least. His eyes narrowed and he reached behind him, drawing forth a knife, which he used to cut the ropes that bound my arms. He slashed only once and the ropes gave way. I fell to the ground heavily, the blood rushing back where it belonged and I shook my arms, trying to get feeling back into them. Thomas grabbed my hair and tilted my head back.
"This is the Nevernever. Don't underestimate my power," he said in a low growl that oddly, sounded akin to my own. A breath later and his lips connected firmly to mine, tendrils of pleasure entering my body from that miniscule point of contact. I managed to get my hands up and push him away but he only grinned, licked his lips and snapped his fingers.
I awoke with a start, sweating and trembling, cursing under my breath.
Hell's bells. Time for a cold shower.
Again.