Title: Shadows
Author: Jilhaji (jilhaji@hotmail.com)
Pairing: SSxHP
Rating: R
Warnings: yaoi, not-too-explicit sex, vampirism
Disclaimers: I don't own either of these two, more's the pity. If you want to gift them, I'd be much obliged.
Running. Pounding feet against the pavement. They're chasing me. They won't stop following me. They're catching up to me. I see something ahead, an alleyway. I duck into it and press the length of my body against the wall. I hide in the darkness, trying my best to blend in. It works. I see them run past. They keep moving forward. They don't notice that they're prey is no longer ahead of them. It's getting more and more difficult to avoid them. These street gangs are smarter than one would think. I don't even bother them. They just get bored after they've fed. They eat as soon as they wake up and then spend their time until sleep tormenting the locals and those like me.
I've lived on these streets for as long as I can remember, by myself. They're far from the safest ones in the city, but if you can survive here, they're better for someone on his own. It's not a great existence by far. There's no excitement around here, just routine. Then, of course, maybe that's a good thing. I don't know. As long as I can survive between waking and sleeping, with feeding in between, I'm fine. I don't need the foolish pursuits of these punks. Routine may not be exciting, but it keeps me animate. I make do and for now, that's all I need. I've got my pad for sleeping and food is easy to find. I can keep the hunger, lust, and thirst satisfied.
Speaking of food, I can feel the hunger slowly rising. That particular group of punks may be heading back this way and they'll be mad. This'll be no place for a man alone. Even a creature like me can't hold his own against that many. If I get into a fight, I may not be able to keep control over myself, especially since I need to eat. I had best get away from here quickly. Haunted Shadows isn't far from here. It's a decent club and at this time of night it should be packed, the perfect place to lose myself and to find a tasty bite at the same time. It'll be a late meal. It's almost midnight now, but that's all right. I just woke up a couple of hours ago anyway.
It's cold out tonight, but it seems like I can't feel the cold at all. I pause in front of a closed convenience store and look in the glass window, examining my clothing. The black leather might be a bit daring for this club, but I don't really have to worry about that. It looks good with my hair, the black on black making quite a striking picture. The plain black V-neck matches the tight leather as well, but is still kept in check by the simple silver choker. A tuft of hair covering one midnight eye creates an image both mysterious and, somehow, innocent. How ironic. All in all, the whole outfit should work and if all else fails, a little flirting with the bouncer never hurt anyone.
I blow a kiss to myself in the mirror and move on. The streets are dark, but the club should be easy to find. There it is up ahead. Haunter Shadows glares out at the world with bright, flashy lights and pounding music that you can hear from a quarter mile away. What do you know? I won't have to flirt or even pay to get into the club. Tonight's bouncer is one of the few friends that I keep these days. Friends get in the way too often, but Albus is well worth the risks. He gets me in for free whenever he works there. He knows how often I have to run for shelter. I wave to him and he calls me up to the front of the line. He gives me a quick hug than ushers me inside and turns back to the mobs facing him. It's a popular club and there are plenty of poor souls out there to deal with.
I step into the main room. The entrance is at least twenty feet above the dance floor. Cages suspend from the ceiling. Dancers, both male and female, are up there, tempting and enticing, moving to the rhythm of the music. The floor below me is teeming with people. They move against each other, drunk with adrenaline, pleasure, maybe alcohol and, in a place like this, who knows what else. The uninhibited dancers down below, unabashedly doing whatever comes naturally are a sight to stir anyone's, well almost anyone's, blood. Gods…this is just what I need.
The music's loud beat is the pulse of the entire place. Everyone obeys its will. It's dark and crowded, just as I desire. The hunger fills me. The lust and thirst stand as handmaidens. I scan the dance floor carefully, looking over all the faces, making sure that no one I know is here. Wait. Down, directly below me on the floor. My eyes lock onto a single swaying form among the masses. All other thoughts flee from my mind as I look upon this heavenly, or maybe infernally, beautiful creature. The gangs outside, my wants, my needs all are forgotten in the sway of his hips. Glossy, messy black hair falls in waves about slim shoulders and down his back. Eyes that seem almost black look out of a face that would have put Adonis to shame. A sparkling silver tank top that seems to be almost painted on tops a pair of clingy blue jeans with white and silver rhinestone snowflakes along the sides of his legs. The jeans conceal nothing and the top is not much better. The shirt is tight enough to outline a toned and chiseled torso. As he dances, his hair falls over his eyes and loose strands form a sort of halo. Thick silver combat boots complete the figure. A vision from hell dressed in heaven.
I slowly move down the stairs and across the dance floor until I am standing near this creature of duality. A smile is spared for me as he spots me from a few yards away. I don't move forward, but somehow he gets closer. He's moving towards me! I begin to put on a show for one, even though I'm sure more are watching. My head rolls around my shoulders, dragging my hair across my shoulders. My hands are on my hips, but they ghost over my upper body in time to the music, never touching. Sometimes, my arms go out in front of me, touching and tantalizing an invisible partner. Spinning and folding my body over, I catch small glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.
I see him watching me, making his way towards me, slowly but surely. I throw myself into the dance, giving it my all. I walk the line of control and barely stay on the side of discipline. I'm part of the dance. On a spin away from him, I suddenly find arms around my waist and a warm body pressed against my back. I jerk away, surprised and turn to smack the offending party upside the head, only to change the motion mid strike. I throw and arm around his neck and pull him in close. I can feel his breathing. I bring my mouth to his ear. I'm close enough to hear his pulse. The hunger, lust and thirst scream and cry out with need. I whisper in his ear. An invitation. He nods in return, but doesn't seem willing to change our position. So, I take the lead.
He's a good dancer, not wonderful, but then he hasn't had my seeming millennia of practice. I can feel eyes on us from all sides and with reason. We make a pretty pair and I think I know what some of these guys will be thinking of later when they're back home alone in the dark of night. I know the image that they'll see inside they're eyelids and in their dreams. His tousled, short hair and my straight, long hair. His radiant clothing to my shadows. His eyes, black as night, staring into mine. Above and below, with either figure able to play either part. The tension in the air practically a physical reality. We dance closely. I've never danced like this before. I haven't felt this alive for ages. The song stops and yet it seems to have lasted forever.
It's customary to change partners after a dance here, but I don't want to let him go. I lean in again. "Care to find someplace more private?" He nods, not speaking, and pulls me towards one of the back rooms, all identical. He turns around and I know that he felt it, the connection. The song may have ended, but the real dance is still going on. The hunger, lust and thirst are still swaying to a melody, to music I can't hear. The pounding heart of the boy who's leading me away from the mob and into privacy is the beat. The door closes behind us, locks from the inside. He turns to face me. I can feel him moving closer. He throws his arms around me and brings us in closer. It's dark in here, no lights, but maybe that's a good thing. We don't need them anyway.
He finds my lips and suddenly all that matters right now is the young man in my arms. His open mouth is an invitation. I'm nearing the line I walked earlier. I grasp at the offer. I'm still in control. I can feel his heart beat, pulsing and pounding through his body. I'm walking the line carefully, still sturdy on my feet. His hands are everywhere and so are mine. I'm not so steady. The dance is speeding up. I'm faltering, unsteady at the edge of a precipice. My fingers play out through his hair and he moves one hand to the small of my back. I'm falling. The music gets louder. I let go of restraint. I'm not in control. I give in. End the kiss and pull him down onto the small bed behind me. Roll him over. Push myself above him. Support myself on my arms. Clothes go flying.
Straddle him. Trace a path over his stomach and chest and follow it with my mouth. Caress his hair. Grab his hand. Entwined fingers. Lick his collarbone. Feel his shiver. Press my lips against his again. Bruising kiss. Tongues wrestling madly while hands are everywhere. Franticly thrusting, pressing together. Pull back. Kiss my way across his face and down to his throat. I'm screaming inside with protest, but instinct has me. I feel canines sliding out and digging into flesh with the precision of two hundred years practice. In those two hundred years, his life is the sweetest of any I've tasted. I hate myself for loving it. I hate the pleasure that runs though my nerves as his blood runs through my body. I console myself that the pleasure is even greater for him. I can't stop. I can't end it before the last drops are in my mouth. I haven't lost myself like that before. Something tells me that I never will again. The hunger abates, the thirst fulfilled, the lust satisfied. The color slowly leaves his cheeks and the vibrant form goes limp. Those hands fall loose. The music ends on a crescendo. The dance stops.
Author's note: Okay…that was fun. Anyway, I'm thinking of writing a sequel later this week. If you're interested, leave me a review! Do you want Harry to die? Or should he be turned into a vampire like Snape? It's up to you guys. I've got a couple ideas tossing about, but I'd like your opinion. It'll be slashy no matter what and probably more explicit, if only to appease my roommate. Bye!
Author: Jilhaji (jilhaji@hotmail.com)
Pairing: SSxHP
Rating: R
Warnings: yaoi, not-too-explicit sex, vampirism
Disclaimers: I don't own either of these two, more's the pity. If you want to gift them, I'd be much obliged.
Running. Pounding feet against the pavement. They're chasing me. They won't stop following me. They're catching up to me. I see something ahead, an alleyway. I duck into it and press the length of my body against the wall. I hide in the darkness, trying my best to blend in. It works. I see them run past. They keep moving forward. They don't notice that they're prey is no longer ahead of them. It's getting more and more difficult to avoid them. These street gangs are smarter than one would think. I don't even bother them. They just get bored after they've fed. They eat as soon as they wake up and then spend their time until sleep tormenting the locals and those like me.
I've lived on these streets for as long as I can remember, by myself. They're far from the safest ones in the city, but if you can survive here, they're better for someone on his own. It's not a great existence by far. There's no excitement around here, just routine. Then, of course, maybe that's a good thing. I don't know. As long as I can survive between waking and sleeping, with feeding in between, I'm fine. I don't need the foolish pursuits of these punks. Routine may not be exciting, but it keeps me animate. I make do and for now, that's all I need. I've got my pad for sleeping and food is easy to find. I can keep the hunger, lust, and thirst satisfied.
Speaking of food, I can feel the hunger slowly rising. That particular group of punks may be heading back this way and they'll be mad. This'll be no place for a man alone. Even a creature like me can't hold his own against that many. If I get into a fight, I may not be able to keep control over myself, especially since I need to eat. I had best get away from here quickly. Haunted Shadows isn't far from here. It's a decent club and at this time of night it should be packed, the perfect place to lose myself and to find a tasty bite at the same time. It'll be a late meal. It's almost midnight now, but that's all right. I just woke up a couple of hours ago anyway.
It's cold out tonight, but it seems like I can't feel the cold at all. I pause in front of a closed convenience store and look in the glass window, examining my clothing. The black leather might be a bit daring for this club, but I don't really have to worry about that. It looks good with my hair, the black on black making quite a striking picture. The plain black V-neck matches the tight leather as well, but is still kept in check by the simple silver choker. A tuft of hair covering one midnight eye creates an image both mysterious and, somehow, innocent. How ironic. All in all, the whole outfit should work and if all else fails, a little flirting with the bouncer never hurt anyone.
I blow a kiss to myself in the mirror and move on. The streets are dark, but the club should be easy to find. There it is up ahead. Haunter Shadows glares out at the world with bright, flashy lights and pounding music that you can hear from a quarter mile away. What do you know? I won't have to flirt or even pay to get into the club. Tonight's bouncer is one of the few friends that I keep these days. Friends get in the way too often, but Albus is well worth the risks. He gets me in for free whenever he works there. He knows how often I have to run for shelter. I wave to him and he calls me up to the front of the line. He gives me a quick hug than ushers me inside and turns back to the mobs facing him. It's a popular club and there are plenty of poor souls out there to deal with.
I step into the main room. The entrance is at least twenty feet above the dance floor. Cages suspend from the ceiling. Dancers, both male and female, are up there, tempting and enticing, moving to the rhythm of the music. The floor below me is teeming with people. They move against each other, drunk with adrenaline, pleasure, maybe alcohol and, in a place like this, who knows what else. The uninhibited dancers down below, unabashedly doing whatever comes naturally are a sight to stir anyone's, well almost anyone's, blood. Gods…this is just what I need.
The music's loud beat is the pulse of the entire place. Everyone obeys its will. It's dark and crowded, just as I desire. The hunger fills me. The lust and thirst stand as handmaidens. I scan the dance floor carefully, looking over all the faces, making sure that no one I know is here. Wait. Down, directly below me on the floor. My eyes lock onto a single swaying form among the masses. All other thoughts flee from my mind as I look upon this heavenly, or maybe infernally, beautiful creature. The gangs outside, my wants, my needs all are forgotten in the sway of his hips. Glossy, messy black hair falls in waves about slim shoulders and down his back. Eyes that seem almost black look out of a face that would have put Adonis to shame. A sparkling silver tank top that seems to be almost painted on tops a pair of clingy blue jeans with white and silver rhinestone snowflakes along the sides of his legs. The jeans conceal nothing and the top is not much better. The shirt is tight enough to outline a toned and chiseled torso. As he dances, his hair falls over his eyes and loose strands form a sort of halo. Thick silver combat boots complete the figure. A vision from hell dressed in heaven.
I slowly move down the stairs and across the dance floor until I am standing near this creature of duality. A smile is spared for me as he spots me from a few yards away. I don't move forward, but somehow he gets closer. He's moving towards me! I begin to put on a show for one, even though I'm sure more are watching. My head rolls around my shoulders, dragging my hair across my shoulders. My hands are on my hips, but they ghost over my upper body in time to the music, never touching. Sometimes, my arms go out in front of me, touching and tantalizing an invisible partner. Spinning and folding my body over, I catch small glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.
I see him watching me, making his way towards me, slowly but surely. I throw myself into the dance, giving it my all. I walk the line of control and barely stay on the side of discipline. I'm part of the dance. On a spin away from him, I suddenly find arms around my waist and a warm body pressed against my back. I jerk away, surprised and turn to smack the offending party upside the head, only to change the motion mid strike. I throw and arm around his neck and pull him in close. I can feel his breathing. I bring my mouth to his ear. I'm close enough to hear his pulse. The hunger, lust and thirst scream and cry out with need. I whisper in his ear. An invitation. He nods in return, but doesn't seem willing to change our position. So, I take the lead.
He's a good dancer, not wonderful, but then he hasn't had my seeming millennia of practice. I can feel eyes on us from all sides and with reason. We make a pretty pair and I think I know what some of these guys will be thinking of later when they're back home alone in the dark of night. I know the image that they'll see inside they're eyelids and in their dreams. His tousled, short hair and my straight, long hair. His radiant clothing to my shadows. His eyes, black as night, staring into mine. Above and below, with either figure able to play either part. The tension in the air practically a physical reality. We dance closely. I've never danced like this before. I haven't felt this alive for ages. The song stops and yet it seems to have lasted forever.
It's customary to change partners after a dance here, but I don't want to let him go. I lean in again. "Care to find someplace more private?" He nods, not speaking, and pulls me towards one of the back rooms, all identical. He turns around and I know that he felt it, the connection. The song may have ended, but the real dance is still going on. The hunger, lust and thirst are still swaying to a melody, to music I can't hear. The pounding heart of the boy who's leading me away from the mob and into privacy is the beat. The door closes behind us, locks from the inside. He turns to face me. I can feel him moving closer. He throws his arms around me and brings us in closer. It's dark in here, no lights, but maybe that's a good thing. We don't need them anyway.
He finds my lips and suddenly all that matters right now is the young man in my arms. His open mouth is an invitation. I'm nearing the line I walked earlier. I grasp at the offer. I'm still in control. I can feel his heart beat, pulsing and pounding through his body. I'm walking the line carefully, still sturdy on my feet. His hands are everywhere and so are mine. I'm not so steady. The dance is speeding up. I'm faltering, unsteady at the edge of a precipice. My fingers play out through his hair and he moves one hand to the small of my back. I'm falling. The music gets louder. I let go of restraint. I'm not in control. I give in. End the kiss and pull him down onto the small bed behind me. Roll him over. Push myself above him. Support myself on my arms. Clothes go flying.
Straddle him. Trace a path over his stomach and chest and follow it with my mouth. Caress his hair. Grab his hand. Entwined fingers. Lick his collarbone. Feel his shiver. Press my lips against his again. Bruising kiss. Tongues wrestling madly while hands are everywhere. Franticly thrusting, pressing together. Pull back. Kiss my way across his face and down to his throat. I'm screaming inside with protest, but instinct has me. I feel canines sliding out and digging into flesh with the precision of two hundred years practice. In those two hundred years, his life is the sweetest of any I've tasted. I hate myself for loving it. I hate the pleasure that runs though my nerves as his blood runs through my body. I console myself that the pleasure is even greater for him. I can't stop. I can't end it before the last drops are in my mouth. I haven't lost myself like that before. Something tells me that I never will again. The hunger abates, the thirst fulfilled, the lust satisfied. The color slowly leaves his cheeks and the vibrant form goes limp. Those hands fall loose. The music ends on a crescendo. The dance stops.
Author's note: Okay…that was fun. Anyway, I'm thinking of writing a sequel later this week. If you're interested, leave me a review! Do you want Harry to die? Or should he be turned into a vampire like Snape? It's up to you guys. I've got a couple ideas tossing about, but I'd like your opinion. It'll be slashy no matter what and probably more explicit, if only to appease my roommate. Bye!