The Cape of Storms, a darren shan saga/cirque du freak fanfic

Author's note – Someone tell me what the hell I'm doing writing an R17 fic, because I have no idea. It just popped into my head one day and kept on nagging at me to write it for at least a week, and since I'm having writer's block with Taste of Love, I decided to write it. And it is as serious as hell. And I hate songfics and this is a songficky sort of thing. I think I'm going insane. God save me.

Anyway, this is dedicated to HYDE! No. Not really. I'd like to, but I think he'd freak out if he ever read it, which I doubt will ever happen, so there's no point, but hey. I dedicate this to Inyx, S-A and Freaky, my three most perverted, dirty-minded friends. Especially Freaky – I used our (coughHYDE'Scough) song! Happy happy happy.

Disclaimer – I do not own Darren Shan. I do not own Kurda, Gavner or Arra. All I own is my own sick perverted thoughts about DS associated slash, and perhaps the plot of this story, inspired by hyde's song "Cape of Storms" which I don't own either. Damn, I wish I did.

Warning – You all probably know this, but this fic is rated R, and it is SLASH. You do know what this means, right? It means guys getting it on. As in, gay sex. Enough said. Keep away if you're going to be sick. Mental disorders and trauma resulting from ignoring my warning is your very own fault. If you like this sort of thing, join our Darren Shan Dirt Forum and share your dirty slashy thoughts with us. Ask freaky for details, or check my bio.

The Cape of Storms

A strong, icy salt breeze blew across the shoreline and up the cliff, making the old, small chapel's damaged cross creak and clatter on the roof. The same wind also made a man's beautiful blond hair blow into his face. Almost lazily, he moved his hand, and with his long, slim fingers, stroked that hair out of his face, to behind his ears. He rested his hand on his lap again, staring out at the roughening waves, every bit of him as still as stone except his long blond hair and cloak which fluttered in the violent winds.

Dark storm clouds swirled high above the steps to the chapel where he sat, and it was hard to see anything when the quarter moon had hidden behind the incoming storm. Flashes of lightening illuminated the sky near the horizon, and waves smashed against the cliff, sending cold sprays up to the chapel's old stone walls and the front steps where the blond man was.

Another man appeared from inside the chapel, his messy dark hair blowing sideways as he shouted:

'Kurda! Come inside, there's a storm coming in!'

The blond man, "Kurda", paid no attention to him. The dark haired man frowned and yelled again, this time even louder:

'Kurda! There's no use waiting for her here, she's probably taking cover somewhere else until it passes.'

'I'm not worried about Arra, Gavner.'

Kurda said quietly, his deep, calm voice almost inaudible in the gusting winds and roaring waves.

'I just want to watch the sea a little longer. You're not scared of a little storm, are you, General Gavner?'

Kurda said in a mocking voice, slightly tilting his head sideways to send Gavner a glance. Gavner felt his spine tingle with pleasure as his eyes met Kurda's glassy aquamarine ones. They were like the most finely crafted cerulean marbles – of the colour of a thousand different shades of the sea. Almost inhuman, they seemed. Not of the living. So cut off from this world that they seemed to connect to another world – another dimension – another universe. Perhaps that's why he loved looking into them so much. Gavner walked down the few steps and sat on the last one, next to Kurda, and sighed.

'So much for making our last mission together a good one.'

'. . . . . . . I like storms.'

Was Kurda's answer – Gavner sighed again, staring at Kurda's profile. Beautiful profile. Too beautiful, actually, for Gavner's liking. So perfect, so pale – the only thing staining his fair skin were three scratches on his cheek. This was their last mission together – Gavner, Kurda, and Arra, three busy Generals, always on missions together. But from the next one, Kurda won't come with them. A new General would take his place and join them instead. Kurda – who was decades younger than Gavner – was becoming a Prince. Gavner didn't know how to take it. He was ecstatic, but was also devastated. Kurda's deep, mournful voice interrupted Gavner's thoughts –

'So where do I sail? A ship losing control – my cries swallowed up, lost in the raging sea. . . '

The melody was sorrowful and dark, escaping from Kurda's lips, disappearing into the winds –

'So where has love gone? Will I ever reach it? The Cape of Storms echoes the pain I feel inside. . . '

He sang, an expression of deep sorrow and regret on his pale face, his eyes reflecting the storming sea like mirrors. Gavner closed his eyes to listen – but Kurda stopped singing – Gavner opened his eyes to find Kurda watching him intently. Gavner blushed. Kurda smiled slightly, his perfect lips curling into a reminiscent smile which would most likely make anyone of any gender swoon.

'. . . I'll miss you, Gavner.'

He whispered – Gavner grunted in reply, looking away quickly to hide the tears brimming at his eyes. "I'll miss you" is all he can say, when Gavner was unsure whether he could even live without him!

You'll never notice

The colour of sin

Just as the storm clouds close in

It's dark

Gavner felt frustration boil inside him – how many times he had felt this way, he didn't even know. He felt that his love for this man was a one way thing. He remembered the day, 7 years ago, when Kurda had said to him the words "I love you" - the only time he had ever mentioned love in their long relationship. The only time. Gavner felt so shattered and alone, that he decided to change the subject to a joke.

'Just how many Princes did you have to sleep with to get your promotion?'

'. . . . Only two.'

Kurda replied casually, but seriously. Gavner had not been expecting this. He was expecting Kurda to be insulted, or for him to just laugh – but. . . . two? Gavner's jaw dropped open. He knew that many vampires joked about how loose and "easy" Kurda was – but he had never believed them. Never.

'Which ones?'

'. . . . . That's. . . a secret.'

Kurda said, a smile playing at his lips as if he enjoyed tormenting Gavner. It was all too much for poor Gavner, though. He felt betrayed, shattered, and jealous – he stood up abruptly and yelled at Kurda something he had been wondering for 7 whole years:

'WHY? Why did you say you love me? When all you do is irritate and provoke me? You don't love me!'

'. . . . . . Jealous, are we?'

Kurda said quietly, raising an amused eyebrow. Gavner didn't withdraw there.

'Why, Kurda?'

He glared at Kurda, who sighed, bit his lip, looked up at Gavner, and said with a tired, sad sort of air:

'. . . . . . . Because. . . you're the only one who'd cry for me at my death.'

Kurda looked away quickly out to sea – Gavner laughed out loud, bent down, and swiftly kissed Kurda on his lips.

'Idiot. Of course I'm not the only one.'

He kissed again, this time deepening the kiss. Again. And again. Each kiss seemed sweeter than the last, more tempting, more arousing. . . and Gavner lost no time in sinking into it.

Here in the shadows

I am pursued

Until the ends of the earth

Embraced

His fingers caught under Kurda's belt, and gradual pressure soon made their bodies fit together from mouth to feet, their bodies sprawling over the steps, only the thin layers of their clothing separating them. Gavner lowered his head, kissing Kurda's pale neck – Kurda let out a soft purr, making Gavner breathe even faster, and fumble with Kurda's belt.

'No. . . . Gavner. . . . Not now.'

Kurda breathed, grabbing Gavner's arm firmly. Gavner sighed, frowning at Kurda. He hated being interrupted like this.

'. . . . Why not?'

'Not. . . . here.'

Kurda croaked, pointing his jaw at the storming clouds and the rain starting to fall. Gavner smirked, stroking Kurda's hair gently.

'You're not scared of a little storm, are you, Prince-to-be?'

'. . . . Inside.'

Kurda said firmly after another passionate kiss.

The ghost ship wanders far

For there is no guiding star

And this treasure has no meaning any more

Gavner sighed, stood up, and walked towards the chapel entrance.

'Well, are you coming inside or not?'

Gavner said, turning around at the top to look down at Kurda, who grinned playfully up at him.

'I don't think the priest will be very happy if he walks in on two men making love on the alter.'

'What do you suppose we do, then?'

Gavner laughed, the wind dishevelling his already-messy hair.

'Well. . . . ' Kurda looked out to sea, the wind billowing his cloak around him, the rain starting to wet his platinum blond hair, 'How about. . . . there?' He gestured towards a disused lighthouse at the tip of the cliff, a 300m or so from the chapel.

So where do I sail?

A ship losing control

My cries swallowed up, lost in the raging sea

So where has love gone?

Will I ever reach it?

The Cape of Storms echoes the pain I feel inside. . .

'It's dark. . . '

Kurda muttered, taking his icy wet cloak off and hanging it on the entrance. Underneath it he wore a simple, white, long-sleeved buttoned shirt which was wet and stuck to his bodyline – and dark slim pants with a simple leather belt. God save me, Gavner thought, everything about this man turns me on so much that it hurts. . .

Kurda turned around and helped Gavner with his heavily wet cloak. His eyes were serious – his existence so perfect and faultless by itself that the law of entropy naturally made anyone want to violate it – to stain his pure white skin, to contort his perfect face, to make him scream with indecent pleasure. . .

Gavner took a step towards Kurda, who took a step back into the shadows of the lighthouse, his blond hair dripping water over his emotionless face, where his stormy turquoise eyes were glinting seductively.

You know completely

The taste of sin

Melting sweet in your mouth

Like chocolate

Gavner felt every bit of his body tense and burn with lust – Kurda just eyed him coolly with those frosty glass eyes. They weren't what you'd call normal eyes. They were eyes holding a dark secret, of cold passion, indestructible premonition and determination – a murderer's eyes. Who cares, though? Who cares if he's hiding things? Who cares if he's a murderer? For all Gavner knew, he wouldn't mind being killed by this man, right here, right now.

Kurda lead the way slowly into the dark lighthouse, not letting his eyes off Gavner's. Gavner followed him as though on a leash, and they reached the keeper's room, where there lay a very old wooden bed with rusty springs and a dusty mattress. Gavner laughed.

'Looks uncomfortable.'

'Will do.'

Kurda said simply, stopping in front of it and gazing up at Gavner expectantly. Obligingly, he kissed Kurda, deepening the kiss as his two hands concentrated on unbuttoning Kurda's shirt. When he slipped the shirt off and reached for the belt, Kurda stepped away, quickly circling the bed, out from Gavner's reach, pulling his own belt off slowly and dropping it on the floor. Gavner bit his lip and circled the bed after him – but just when he thought he could grab Kurda, Kurda slipped away from his reach again. Gavner sighed breathlessly, getting irritated.

'Who taught you to tease like this?'

'You did.'

'Liar.'

'. . . Sod.'

'Whore.'

'Faggot.'

Kurda giggled – Gavner quickly caught his lover's shoulders and kissed him silent, before whispering breathlessly:

'You have a spiteful tongue, sire.'

'And you have the most unskilful tongue, Gavner.'

Kurda said, poking his tongue out playfully after another quick but deep, hard kiss. Gavner grunted and pushed Kurda onto the bed, climbing on top of him quickly and pinning him onto the cold, soggy mattress. Kurda moaned, swung his arms around Gavner's neck and pulled him down closer – the bedsprings creaked and sank with the weight.

Gavner buried his head into his lover's neck, biting softly to leave small red tooth marks on his pure white skin, while Kurda undressed him swiftly. Gavner stopped, and looked down into Kurda's cold, detached, misty blue eyes, and stroked his hair, whispering;

'I love you. . . . '

Gavner closed his eyes, ready to lose himself in this man – it didn't matter how strongly his lover smelt of sex, sin and secrets – all he knew was that he wanted him so badly and he'd let nothing get in their way. . .

The storm was at its worst outside – violent rain drumming against the ceiling and spearing the flaking, old, white walls of the disused lighthouse. The storm swelled and broke high above, as the deafening winds smashed the roaring waves against the cliff, almost muting the sounds of the rhythmically creaking springs and loud throaty gasps and groans escaping from the building.

A moment of pleasure

You are fulfilled

But every dream has its time

To die

Kurda sighed and smiled as he wiped the sweat off a sleeping Gavner's forehead. Gavner inevitably fell asleep after sex, unlike Kurda who felt alert and awake after it (not just because Gavner's snoring was too loud for anyone to go to sleep to). Gavner could never stay awake – that was fine by Kurda, because he liked watching Gavner sleep. He shifted his head a little to kiss his spent lover's forehead.

'Mmnnh. . . . . . Kurda. . . . . '

Gavner mumbled, probably in his sleep. Kurda laughed a little, and stroked the General's dark hair. It would be an understatement to say that the vampire sleeping on top of him was heavy – but Kurda enjoyed the firm weight, the friction, the warmth, the slow rise and fall of lungs, and how their bodies' curves fit almost perfectly.

It would probably be their last night together – not because Kurda was becoming a Prince, but because something else was being planned by him, that would mean an inescapable death for himself as the sacrifice. He was already tired of cursing his own fate, though – so even if he only had a few weeks at the most to live, he didn't mind. He closed his eyes as if to savour and burn into his memory this very moment with his lover.

The ghost ship wanders far

For there is no guiding star

And this treasure has no meaning any more

Will this be my fate?

The storm was starting to weaken and break outside, the wind only a soft caress against the cliff and the lighthouse. It must be almost morning, Kurda noticed, for the sky was a little brighter, and some light was pouring into the room from the window. It was going to be a beautiful day. Kurda smiled as Gavner started snoring – he was sure that if the storm was still going, Gavner would have been louder than the waves, the wind and the rain all put together.

Kurda kissed the snoring vampire's forehead again, and whispered just like he did every night for 7 years, after Gavner had fallen asleep –

' . . . I love you, Gavner. . . '