YEAH! Hey, I know this probably won't get many views, but I love this couple, while I was reading the first three books, they were close to all I thought about. Ben and Jack, so amazing! Um, this is a very fluffy, very bloody, boyxboy, shonean ai, thing. So yeah, don't be freaked out or anything, heh heh, god, I've wanted to write this for so long. And again, it's all about me finding an ok plot, which I finally did! Ah, it's so fun to write about Victorian times, so much fun. ^.^ I'm gonna enjoy righting this, and I hope you enjoy reading it, so here I go!
He sat in the lavishly furnished room, dressed in all black next to the casket. Her auburn hair splayed around her on the soft silk pillow. She looked peaceful in her rest, although her skin was milky white. He knew what had happened, and he couldn't believe he had let it happen. He couldn't believe that he had allowed those monsters to live on, to hunt the night, and to take his fifteen year old sister away from him. He had already lost his best friend, who had, truthfully drifted away from them, clamming 'he couldn't continue to live this life' now he was alone, completely alone. He knew he needed to get home before dark.
"Farewell, Em, I love you" he got up, and slowly walked to the door, not daring to look back, for fear he would burst into tears.
*.*.*.*
The carriage rocked and bucked on the sea-shell lined rode. He would be home soon, and the crimson light filtering in between the curtains of the window kept him safe for now. The carriage stopped and he gathered up his coat as the carriage man opened the door for him. He nodded his thanks and looked up at the huge house. He walked up the steps and a servant opened the main doors for him. He walked up the stairs and entered his room, the pale light of twilight turning everything a shade darker, the white walls into a rich blue. He laid his jacket on the chair, removed his boots and loosened his tie. He contemplated having the chef make him some dinner, then decided against it, he was too depressed to eat. He sighed, deciding just to sleep. He took off his under vest and shirt as well as his stalking and climbed on top of the bed, pulling the silk curtains closed.
He lay heavily on the soft pillows and watched as the light died in the room. It was times like these that always reminded him of the friend he had lost, of the fighting, carefree, head strong young man that had left him.
"Jack…" he whispered before falling into a dreamless sleep.
*.*.*.*
He rose slowly and carefully, he knew the sun had already set, a few hours ago, as a matter of fact, still better to be careful. He opened the heavy bronze doors and closed them behind him, walking up the two flights of steps at a mortal pace, which he was so fond of doing then entered the basement of the falling house. He looked up through the dusty air, some mortal children had been here today, probably daring each other to come down and see if there really was a secret crypt where a monster lay by day. It seemed none of them got as far as the top of the broken basement stairs.
He scaled the wall and walked through the crumbling house. The roof long since caved in. this was nothing new, and he continued on through the door and out into the street. No one saw him randomly come out of the broken house, because the moment he stepped out of the house, he began moving faster than any mortal who happened to be watching to see. He sped towards the poorer parts of the great city of London, looking for his first feast. He would feed, and then he would force himself to do tonight, what he had been too scared to do until this had happened to him. He could pull it off now, the person would never know he had come and gone. He found his first victim, an old man, with a scarred face.
He walked in front of him, reading his mind as he passed. The man's eyes studied him as he went, liking what he saw. This would do, this man most certainly disserved to die. He was sickened by the thoughts running through this man's head, but that would just make the kill easier to deal with. He turned, looking the man right in the eyes and motioned for him to follow with a small smile. The man did so willingly. He took the man to an alley way, where he allowed him to feel him up before making his move. As the chapped lips pressed against his he quickly took his fingers and snapped the man's neck. He fell to the ground, his eyes wide in astonishment.
He bent down, ignoring the strong smell of sweat and grease emitting from the man and tore away his stained collar. He bit into the neck and quickly fell into the swoon that came with the taking of life. He allowed the ecstasy to completely envelop him. And when the flow became thin, he tore himself away, refusing to drain all the blood, as this would make him to full, and he would become clumsy. He through the body into a nearby swear, making sure no evidence of his feed was left behind. His vision was already becoming sharper. And so was his hearing. He stood still for a moment, listening and getting used to the sudden on poor of voices, both verbal and mental.
He heard a man and women yelling several blocks over, then the sharp sound of skin being smacked and the women hitting the ground. He heard a child crying and a mother rushing to quiet it. He shook his head, he mustn't be distracted. He had to focus tonight. He had to see him. He ran in the preternatural way of traveling, where one simply vanishes and reapers where they want to.
His traveling took him to the end of a very familiar street. The news stand on the end still held the newspapers of the day. From across the street, he read the headline. 1852, September 14, Body found on the front steps of the court buildings, drained of blood. He frowned, not his work, that meant someone else was here, someone who liked to show off. He hoped it wasn't who he thought it was. He would find out, and then relocate as soon as possible. This would mean visiting the person he meant to see less, but, it was more trouble to stay and risk meeting the other. He set off down the street at a comfortable, mortal pace and soon saw the huge house he remembered so well. He stopped in front of it and just admired its beauty. The old pale blue Victorian mansion was truly one of the prettiest on the street. Its vine covered walls and white windows completing the look. I n the gloom of night he could see ever leaf of the jasmine vine in perfect detail. He plucked a blood red rose from the bush nearest the street and jumped up to the balcony of the all too familiar window. He opened the door, unlatching the lock telekinetically and silently stepped into the room.
He had heard the sleeping breath of the young man in the bed from the street, as well as all those of the resting servants. The young man's butler was reading in bed by a candle, but he wouldn't hear him. He went over to the bed and threw back the translucent red curtains to pear at the sleeping form of Benedict Cole. The sleeping boy was even more beautiful than he had remembered. His blonde hair was slightly ruffled from sleep and his bare chest moved up and down softly, but not necessarily peacefully. He stood there, letting the curtain fall behind him, now that his eyes allowed it; he needed no light to study the perfections in this boy's face. The young man knew every moment he spent staring at Ben, the harder it would be to leave him, again. He inhaled the soft sent carefully. The blood coursing through the young man's veins was only made bearable by that of the blood from the repulsive other.
He wanted to touch the soft skin but knew he would risk waking him. He leant forward anyway, and froze when the blue eyes shot open.
*.*.*.*
And there's the first chapter!!! Yeah, oright, that went great! I'm so proud of myself. Whowa! …what's that from…oh, Sent of a Women, anyway, thank you, R and R
Love, Hitomi