Title: Dirty Fairytale
Summary: Love can make you do mad, insane things. Transform you into something completely different, something much darker than you've ever imagined. The things you wouldn't do for love. Dark Doctor/Dark River… Darkfic.
- Who need souls when one has bodies – and a time machine?
A tale digging into the grimmer, darker aspect of fairytales – not suitable for kids. Smut/Gore… Be warned XD
A/N: I blame this on my Dexter withdrawal (need my Dexter fix soon) and on Hannibal Lecter (squeee)… And on… well, my own dark sense of entertainment (plus I've been watching True Blood lately). Yes, and I blame the dead water that got sprayed on my forehead yesterday (from a soaky dead hand that has been submerged in alcohol for who knows how long - addr).
Doctor Who, I will try to be nice next time around ;) *grins* Or maybe not. *laughs*
-o-
'There was - there was, there will be, there is - once…'
-o-
Once, the River said: 'Poisonous love runs deep; fills the veins with infection, hides between two lungs and settles roots into the soul.'
But Time replied: 'To love a thing is to love all of it; the flaws, the perfection, the darkness and the brightness of it, all at once. Otherwise it is not love.'
-o-
SANGUINEOUS
-o-
Sanguineous – the violent flammeous colour so vivid it filled his mind with a continuous howl, echoing within him in uproar. An erythropoietin virtuoso plot of fiendish chaos; it flooded him and he was drowning in it. The gore of savage red.
There was so much blood, everywhere.
Slick, sticky dark-red liquid pooling on the white concrete floor, splattered on the pale fuscous walls where it was travelling down in grotesque pathways of hematic colouring, staining his hands and seeping in through his skin. The sight of it – the raw, putrid smell of it – drove him to the brink of insanity. An invading force of sickness settling into his body, blood-red claws digging into his flesh and tearing and gnawing at him. He wanted to vomit – nausea acrid and bitter in his veins, pungent with decay in his arteries, constricting his throat in repulsion. His hearts tightened in vile horror and black rancid queasiness overwhelmed him – like a black greasy substance suffocating him.
It covered everything; an oily slick of deep red fluid creeping and prowling in the expanding pool on the pale floor, running down his cotton sleeves in small devilish streams of viscid blood, percolating in through the cloth and fusing with his skin. And in the midst of chaos, in the dark red lake of death covered in the vivid liquid she was. Still and motionless, pale skin splayed with red stains, fair honey hair dark and dripping with the vinous fluid. Red spots and smears swathed her, traversing and claiming her pale skin, infecting her from top to toe.
He followed the red fluid; the shiny surface of it, the thick compact texture of it crawling down her jaw and making a slow sensuous path past the curve of her neck, pooling leisurely in the furrow of her clavicle dense and succinct, and traversing down between the inner slopes of her breasts, staining the white thin oblique dress. The density of it, viscous and syrupy, fascinated him; he was enthralled by the despicable vivid colour of it. It stained her pale smooth skin; splashes marred her white frozen face and the lake under her enveloped bare legs in its thick liquid, soaked the skirt of her dress. The chromatic crimson on her, on him, on the floor, on the walls – everywhere. On his skin, under his nails, beneath his knees and beyond his eyes, slipping into his mind – deadly crimson.
Everywhere.
Absently he contemplated when it would stop its flowing life, how long till it would start to coagulate and the fresh streams of liquid would become dried flakes, stuck and glued to their skin, clotted into their clothes, staining the floor a red opaque mirror? Would he ever be able to wash the blood out or would it sink into to him like a second set of skin, covering him in a dark bloodied harness? It felt like liquid poison, glued to him, and he feared it would never come off.
Horrified and entranced he stared at her hair, tangled with gore and matted by the fluid and he thought she would never get it out. It would cling to her, indestructible, and forever taint her. He brought his gaze to her eyes, a small trickle of blood hanging unto to her lashes like drops of water. She looked so empty. Her gaze went right through him, non-seeing and distant in its stare; frozen and numb.
The bloodshed; enveloping them in a cruel embrace. Deep red the colour of a blood orange, splattered around them, smearing and marring their skin, body and mind alike. It was in his nose, in his mouth, travelling down his throat, invading with a sickeningly flow, suffocating him in its thick gelatinous form. He gagged on it, on the odour hanging heavily and oppressive in the air, on the lukewarm feel of it. The stench of it burning his nostrils, stinging his throat; he wanted to rip it out and tear it to pieces. But he was afraid to move.
And she sat, unmoving and lost, in the middle of it – the deep red bathing her, covering her, choking her in its hold.
"River" he whispered and the words came out all wrong and foreign, heavy and thick in the air, stale and cold. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, still and unmoving as well. But he watched as they started trembling the moment his voice left his mouth.
"River" he prompted again, his voice becoming louder and more forceful, something horrible clawing at his chest from the inside. It wanted out.
Her hands shook but her eyes were still – lost and so far away, a dull shaded blue.
"River" he yelled, still sitting motionless on the floor watching as the tremor intensified. He couldn't move, paralyzed and petrified to the spot. If he moved the blood would embrace him too. It terrified him too much; the deep red, thick syrupy liquid. Already he was soaked in it – he couldn't bear to touch anymore of it. He would drown. So he yelled.
"River" he screamed the loud sound ripped from his vocal cords, from the deep pit in his stomach the muscles of his abdomen contracting painfully. Her upper body started shaking as well and he watched her with a feeling of numbness in his body; numb from the sight of so much blood on her and from the rancid reek they were surrounded in.
He hated her, hated her for all the blood. Hated her for what had lead to the cause of this bloodshed, caused all this blood. It ran through him, deep and wild – and so foreign and new he wondered if it was even a feeling at all. It consumed him raw and burned like electricity, rushes of agony and inner turmoil and deep down he felt so empty. Deep down he knew the emotion wasn't meant for her. It was a deep sated hatred for himself – he had acted on equal grounds with her but… He couldn't say no to her, couldn't refuse her – and that was the root of his problems, he realized. This was of his own making. He was chaos – the storm of vengeance, the tide of victory, a grotesque god. Her god.
If she asked for the stars, he would give them to her. If she asked for infinity, he would gladly give his life for her.
She had asked for salvation, and how could he refuse that? She had asked for the redemption of her soul, begged and pleaded with him, and it had ripped his hearts apart. She'd asked for help, for an accomplice, for a friend, for a lover. He couldn't deny her anything; least of all her right to retribution. He couldn't even deny her the bloodbath, and it made him sick with himself.
He would do anything for her, and it was to be his downfall.
And here they were, in the middle of bloodbath. In a lake of blood – pool of death – shreds of flesh lying in chunks around them. The air sharp and dark with carnage. A ruthless, vengeful soul wrecking havoc on those who'd aggrieved her, an unforgiving goddess striking down on her enemies – and he had helped her.
"River" he screamed again in a strangled and piercing voice, desperate, and this time she looked directly at him - and he wished she hadn't when their eyes locked together.
Startled he saw the corners of her mouth curl upwards, her blood-stained lips macabre and horrifyingly enticing, her eyes suddenly dancing with life and something darkly menacing. She looked like a wrathful ethereal goddess covered in the blood of unbelievers, sitting on top of the world watching the living beneath her, their life in her hands. Brutal, callous and without remorse, he shuddered and wondered what that would make him.
She fixed him with a smile – a dark, content smile. It was all wrong, tarnished with blood, and took on an almost devious twist as shadows played dangerously across her skin. He could see the glistening white colour of her teeth – unstained – and her tongue flicked out and licked her lower lip, coming away bloodred. Sick and spellbound he followed her tongue smearing blood on her upper lip. He groaned when her mouth widened in another smile and she made a small sound in the depths of her throat, animate and guttural.
He could smell the scent of her in the air, gleeful and dark – bloodied.
Anticipation gripped him in an iron fist and he sat still as she advanced; creeping towards him. Her hands landed in the blood on the floor sending a shower of splashes skyward, landing on her face and splattering on her forearms. She crawled on all four towards him, slowly prowling through the thick liquid on the floor her eyes fixed on him. He found his line of sight riveting towards the contours of her breasts, the nipples visible in the deep plunging neckline, blood tainting the pale voluptuous skin. He could feel a prickly heat moving from his chest and outwards, downwards in bursts of warmth; blazing, sizzling fires running through his body and curling in his spine, coiling in the root of his sudden erection; stirring and awakening something alien and dark within him. He felt sick and aroused – disgusted and excited.
Her dark eyes regarded him as she crawled unto his lap, her blood-soaked body sticking to his, the wet dress cold and clammy but her skin warm and inviting.
Chunks of meat tangled in her hair, dark with blood and something murky-yellowish in it. It made him gag, his stomach constricting involuntarily and acid travelled up through him, burning his mouth as it went past his teeth, landing in the pool of dark red around them.
Shocked he clutched her to him as he retched, holding her bloodied body as close to his as panic and horror stormed though him, leaving him empty, panic closing in.
Low laughter and warm breath brushed against his throat where she rested her lips, rumbling through him as her arms steadied him. But he was dizzy and light-headed.
Exhausted his body grew limb and he felt his head hit the floor, blood drenching him, crawling into his hair, swarming into his mouth and nose – its slick slightly warm texture lulling him into unconsciousness.
-o-
The first thing that assaulted his senses was the feel of something soft, warm, beneath him and somewhat covering him, the air slightly cold on his bare torso. The air smelt fresh with an undertone of something bitter and fruity, dew-berry, he surmised. Opening his eyes he made out the large four-poster bed he was lying in, the room dark and enclosed in shadows. High-ceilinged windows let in a shine of silvery moonlight covering the bed in a hue of achromatic gleam. Silky soft sheets covered his lower body leaving his upper bare and exposed. The feel of his skin bare and clean astounded him and he exhaled in relief, having expected the blood so lucid in his mind. No remnants of blood anywhere though it still lingered behind his eyes; he knew it was neither a nightmare nor a hallucination. He had lost consciousness – fainted in the middle of a pool of blood.
He felt the warmth of her body next to his, and he turned his head and looked into her eyes. Shadowy eyes that watched and observed him in the dark; an elbow keeping her upper body upright. He couldn't see anything in them, dark and emotionless, but the shadows playing on her face crept away in a smile when she realized he was awake. Her naked skin glistened in a silver shine and shadows danced across angles and curves.
She looked positively predatory, almost luminous with danger and darkness – enticing and fascinating. He could feel the pull of her gaze, the allure of her skin; the tendrils of her coquette gaze snaking around him, touching his skin with soft, tender strokes – inviting him in.
With a seductive glint in her smile she edged closer and he felt her bare skin against his, her hands reining him to her. He gasped when her mouth descended on his, covering him in softness, in an explosion of colours in his mind – the feel of supple flesh plying him apart. He kissed her back, forcefully, his hands seeking out her skin.
She sucked hard on his lower lip and drew it in between her teeth, biting down. He yelped into her mouth. The metallic raw taste of blood flooded through him, again, tainting him and he tangled his hands in her hair, twisting fingers into fists in the strands and bringing her closer in a fierce pull. He could taste her among his own blood, bitter and dark, like dark chocolate and he drank her in.
Tipping her head to the side he exposed her neck and ran his lips down it, brushing across her carotid artery with his teeth, nipping at the delicious skin on her bare shoulder. Tasting the tart fruity texture of her shoulder, fresh and soft, bathed in the same dew-berry scent that lingered in the dark unlit room – and vindictively he bit down. He could feel her flinch in his arms, recoiling from the pain. But he held her back; enfolding her with his legs around her and imprisoning her with his hands in her hair. She stilled and he sank his teeth as deep as he could into her skin, hard and tearing, sharp and gnawing, felt the small pebble of warm thick blood as it rushed into his mouth, bitter and sharp in its flavour.
He licked the wound, blood on his tongue and lips, soothing it softly and tenderly with kisses and whispers of affection in the ancient tongue of his home. Hungrily he traced his mouth upwards up, followed the line of her neck and latched onto her lips, his body tingling with a feverish longing. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers digging into the skin on the backside of his spine, painful and malicious in betwixt pleasure.
She moulded her body to his, slick skin against slick skin, rocking and moving against each other, hands and fingers prowling across untouched skin in hot pursuit by eager lips; sharp and alternately tender, fierce and languid. She pinned him into the mattress, strong and wonderful on top, bare thighs gliding across his skin, buttocks meeting his upturned knees. He surveyed her, thrill and excitement coursing through him in a venomous flow of yearning, arousal clinging to his skin and journeying in his bloodstream, wild and unruly, dark and dangerous.
He fastened her with a smile, exposing his teeth in an appreciative grin, his eyes following the outline of her naked body; the curves, the shape and the weight of her atop him. Enthralled he locked his gaze on the angry wound at her neck, livid and pulsating, blood running down onto her left breast, resting for the moment on the areola, staining the darker circular area. He felt dangerously possessive, an unbearable desire to sink his teeth into her again and again, to mark her, to claim her – to devour her whole.
She raked her nails down his chest, running them across his abdomen, sharp and piercing, her eyes glinting with dark sadistic mirth. Her eyes observed him, two pools of midnight fixed on him – and he felt a tremor run through his body, hot and stimulating.
And in a matter of seconds he had her pinned up against the bedpost, pushing her into the wood, her back arched into him; their kisses becoming fierce and heated. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, held them between thumb and index finger, squeezing and rolling them, taking delight in the sound he elicited from her. He grazed the soft skin above her bosom with his teeth, biting down hard and soothing the irritated skin with his soft lips afterwards. He moved upwards, alternately biting and kissing, making his path to her mouth. He felt her chest rise and fall with her uneven breaths, felt the echo of her moans in his mouth tingling his lips. Jutting his hips upwards, grinding against her, he felt surges of elation and desire rushing through him, coiling in his spine and lower regions, almost painfully. She gripped the skin of his hips, fingers digging into him and bringing him flush up against her – moulding him further into her. He pressed his mouth to hers, held her steady and solid in his embrace as he slid into her in a long excited glide of skin and warmth, need and lust.
They moved, rocking and gasping, slid against each other, skin smooth and sticky. He watched her, pleasure playing in her eyes, in the upward curves of her mouth and in the taste of her lips and the feel of her skin, emotions pounding through them like the current of electric voltage.
He pressed into her, held her close, burying himself deeper and deeper within her, watched as her eyes flicked open in midst of ecstasy, gazing into him as their bodies moved. He saw the dark deep abyss of himself reflected in her eyes, watched as she drank him whole, darkness fluttering between them and within them, sparkling and glittering in the air around them. Their love intermingling and communicating in the dark; twisted and alien.
She was within him, poison, rushing through his body and surging deep within his being – the seething flood of infectious love, tainting him, marring him. Dark, wicked love. Twisted but it was theirs alone, and filled him like nothing else.
-o-
She found him the following morning in the console room of the Tardis, standing at the panel. He felt her press herself against his back, hard and close as she embraced him from behind, enfolding her arms around his middle. She licked his earlobe sensuously and slow and he could feel her breasts burrow into him, her hips comfortably behind him.
He knew this was the only apology he would get from her.
She would utter no words of regret, nothing to repent for as far as she was concerned and he knew she was more inclined to thank him instead. He felt the sharp edges of her teeth nipple down his neck, kissing in between the small nips while she caressed the outline of his abdomen, her fingers running up and down in delightful patterns, massaging and kneading.
He would burn in hell, he realized, for what he had done. There was no forgiveness for that, no going back, no changing what had happened. He would always remember, always know what slumbered within him, dark and wrathful, capable of anything. She would burn right next to him, he knew, and it somehow seemed fitting – on a cosmic scale.
He turned around in her embrace and caught her lips in his, sucked her lower lip into his mouth, caressing it, licking it; delving into the feel of her skin against his, drowning in feelings of pleasure, comfort and desire. He needed to drown in her, desperately. It was all he had left now.
He spun them around and pinned her against the console panel, hard and firm, as he ran his hand up her thigh and under the short night-gown, spreading her legs. She unbuckled his pants and he entered her in a hurried hard stroke, catching her gasp of surprise in his mouth. He could feel the surging prickly heat rise within him, spreading to the tip of his fingers and to the tip of his penis buried in her - frantic. Prickly sweet, unbearable warm, trusting and rocking, deeply moving through her until she with teeth buried in his shoulder convulsed around him, bringing him with her.
"Apology accepted," he whispered against her skin, bestowing soft wet kisses along her jaw and catching her mouth in a tender kiss.
-o-
CRUENTOUS
-o-
Cruentous - the ripe macabre colour so vivid, so intense in his mind – the forceful, powerful colour settling roots into the core of his being and lighting him on fire. He could feel it smouldering within him – dangerously as he watched the display of exposed bodies on the bed, pale eburnean sheets thrown off, crinkled and wrinkled beneath naked skin. A sadistic display of something being stolen – and it was drowning him in its embrace. The image of betrayal burned into the backside of his eyelids, forever etched deeply into his mind and memories. The sight of her in ecstatic rapture, in the throes of passion; it burned blood red within him. The cruel colour of something tainted, something taken – something wild and brutal. The feral colour of lust – scandalously scarlet.
Drenched in cold sweat of his own and hands fisted to his sides rigidly, he stood glued to his dark corner – every bone in his body disobeying him and rooting him to stand petrified. Maybe it was shock that had him in an iron tight hold – or maybe it was something crueller, darker and greener. It was supposed to be a surprise for her and instead he had ended up in his own worst nightmare. He stood enclosed in the shadows, swathed in the darkness around him, drinking it in as he felt compelled to watch her. He couldn't keep his eyes off her – he had tried but they riveted right back to the bed as dark curiosity spiked at every moan and groan – and creak. Her hair was a dark coquelicot halo, splayed in stark contrast to the white linen beneath the curly strands. Red again - like the first time he met her. The shade, colour, went right through his skin and assaulted him, creating the familiar prickly feeling he associated with only her, tingling down his spine in dark rushes. Involuntary and animate, without control. He sucked his lower lips in between his teeth and bit down, trying to impede the growing flushing heat.
A lone tear made its way down his cheek – cold and wet – and he wondered if it was brought on by the lonely feel of betrayal or if it was powered by a darker sense of pride and ownership. She possessed him, raw and whole – and in his stupid naive mind he had thought he had possessed her alike. Her fingers played in black strands, running through the soft-looking mane of the stranger – and he couldn't look away even as it broke his hearts. Furious he found he was still unable to move, his body shaking silently as the acrid and bitter taste of anger singed his throat.
Dark voyeur – dark intruder he might be … but from his point of view the stranger was the one intruding, trespassing on something sanctified, something exclusive between him and River. This was a violation. He had barely left behind her warm body, her soft tender smiles and her playful teasing hands and here she was – in bed with someone else. It burned so intense – hurtful and blazing. A fierce hue of livid red; coiled and ready to strike.
She moaned and arched her back as large rough hands slid across her skin, hiking up her legs and fingers sliding under her calves, dark toned muscles glistening and gliding along her body. His gaze was drawn to the shine of her pale skin, the lonely flickering candlelight on the nightstand casting an orange hue to her body and hair – strands of a fiery sunset, wild flames licking across her pale flesh – he found himself spellbound. Spellbound and fascinated while he burned with the intense feel of fury. A contradiction of throbbing emotions as arousal and anger battled within him, biting and clawing at each other while he silently, motionlessly watched her.
Whimpering and moaning she writhed beneath the stranger and his eyes were glued to her full lips, the colour of a bloodred rose in full blossom, watched her tongue flicking out and tasting the dark skin above her before her lips followed. This wasn't right. She belonged to him – and no one else. Still he couldn't move, bound by invisible cords that restrained him, held him back. Without any control and falling deeper and deeper into dark anguish, he felt something inside him stir. Something unknown yet dangerously familiar, something livid and snarling yet simultaneously it felt like a void devouring him – leaving him empty.
Enrapture mixed with the sickeningly feeling of resentment; the two knotting together tightly in his stomach, helical and twisting – his abdominal muscles constricted painfully and angrily in revolt. Pale thighs wound themselves around the stranger, white hands exploring and touching – eyes closed and dark lashes fluttered. Oh it burned – a dark red colour of rage. A deep concentrated desire to see the flow of blood run from the dark stranger, to smear his blood on the bed sheets, to sprint it on her, on the walls, on the floor. Dark imagery of ravishing her next to the dead man, of tangling his bloodied hands into her hair and smudging dark stains of blood across her lips in mimic of smeared lipstick. Forbidden, forbidden, dark, dark thoughts. But so intense.
In all his wildest, darkest fantasies he had never once imagined there would be others – rather presumptuous and arrogant of him but whenever she invaded his mind and dreams there was just the two of them – always alone - every other being insignificant and dismal in context. All her remarks about dating whatnot and comments about former boyfriends; they had slipped off him – hadn't really mattered. He had always assumed it was her flirtatious albeit sneaky way of trying to get him riled, get him hot and bothered.
This!
This was bloody infidelity.
Betrayal.
Something struggled within him, clawed and fought – wanting out. Something atrous and darkly ancient. It broke free and he finally stepped out from the shadows, his veins singing with his envy, his arteries flooded with his anger and his mind filled with the image of her on the bed, naked, writhing and moaning in pleasure under the large body of a dark-skinned man.
"Enjoying ourselves, are we!" he spoke as he stood next to the bed post, head askew as he watched them, voice loud and clear in the small room; a coalescent of steel being bared and a gathering storm.
Something oncoming.
-o-
Madness had claimed him at last.
He had lost his mind – and blacked out. Of that he was sure; as sure as any insane person could be. Once again he was covered in blood – dark rosaceous liquid that stuck to him like glue and painted nauseously patterns on the white bed sheets, dark pools staining the wooden floor. However this time it felt cold and stale, lifeless and flaked. Shivering he looked around and found his stare caught on the unmoving body on the floor; blood the colour of stagnant midnight as it pooled around the man, originating from his throat where a ghastly wound sliced from one ear to the other. It reeked, from the body, from the floor, from the bed and from himself – like something dead left to rot in the sun. He quickly averted his eyes – and caught her gaze instead. For an instant he was relieved – he had thought she would be almost dead as well, neck sliced and her eyes blank. Her pale throat remained unstained but her arms and upper torso was covered in blood like him. She squatted and pressed something white against the throat of the stranger on the floor but her eyes remained fixed on him.
Her dark eyes regarding him, and he couldn't figure the colour out. In the flickering orange light they appeared to be almost a deep-greenish shade but shadows of dark blue twirled in their midst. They looked slightly emotionless and cold – but the twisted upturns of her lips gave her eyes a livid look instead. A caesious hue of barely restrained temper, he decided finding it a beguiling display.
Absently he watched as she bolted up from the floor and strode towards him, and her right hand went up in the air and rushed toward him in a blur of flickering coral, making contact with his cheek. The sting barely registered in his mind – he was much more fascinated by the vibrant storms gathering in her eyes. They had turned green again – the olivaceous hue of a deep forest green.
"Pretentious bastard" her voice seemed distant like a muted roar and he only watched her lips as they moved. They looked so soft and rosy. A fine claret ready to be poured, sipped – red and kissable.
Ignoring her outrage he leaned across and drew her mouth to his lips in a forceful pull, his hands on the back of her neck. He could taste her fury, a sweet fruity flavour, and he sucked on her lips, drew them into his mouth and caressed them as his hands held her close.
When he let her go he got another slap – the other cheek, he realized. Transfixed he touched his palm to the sore skin, this time it stung, and he fixed her with a wide smile. Her pale neck was smeared with the bloody fingerprints of his hands, marring her, marking her. Her lips looked bloodied, almost swollen, and he wondered if he was the cause – or if it was the wounded man on the floor.
"Whore" he laughed at her the tone anything but merry. More a dark baritone of an untamed beast – an underlying threat in it perhaps, or maybe something else. He didn't know. Insanity had taken hold of him, and he briefly wondered what had happened in his blackout. Obviously he had mauled the unconscious almost dead man – but somehow not knowing the exact details was an annoyance.
Expectantly he waited for her intensifying fury and maybe another slap but she surprised him – yet again. Stunned he stared at her as she laughed and her eyes considered him with an undaunted, calculated tinge.
"And the pot calls the kettle black" she snarled in between a smile.
He spluttered and shivered with an amused outrage, the feeling running through him similar to adrenaline. In a rough swift move he caught her wrists in his hands, brought her flush up against him. Her even breath wasn't disturbed but he saw the small tremble in her shoulders and the indignation in the depths of her glare.
"Darling," he told her, his voice condescending and dark as he quick and forcefully shoved her down on the bed next to them, straddling her and restraining her hands above her head, "Darling, darling, darling…" he repeated and watched her smile fade and her breath becoming perturbed.
"So you fornicate with everyone, River?" the words slipped from his mouth, venomous and hard and he slipped one hand around both her wrist and brought the other hand to her neck, tilting her chin upwards.
"I should have expected, foreseen this, really. A thorough-bred 51th century harlot, Mmm – you are delectable." He drew the last word out as if tasting the flavour of the pronunciation.
"You bloody hypocrite" she hissed as she wriggled beneath him trying to get out of his hold, her muscles tensed beneath him and her pulse hammering below his thumb.
"I could eat you up" he drawled in a slow voice on the edge of velvet, intentionally ignoring her outburst and caressing her jaw instead.
"Get your hands off me" she growled as she struggled in vain, her breasts rising and falling with her hurried, angry intakes of air.
"Adulteress, mmm, it has such a delicious flavour to it, doesn't it" he continued in the same husky tone, pressing the palm of his thumb into her flesh, palpating and compressing her carotid artery, pressing his thumb deep as he slid it upwards to the hollow of her jaw.
Momentarily she stopped her struggling and bared her teeth, the sound escaping her more an animate growl than anything comprehensible. It tingled his skin.
"Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?" he spoke conversationally and undaunted, moving his hand down and tauntingly circling her nipples through the flimsy, thin cloth – obviously she had dressed in his blackout.
"Go fuck yourself," she spit furiously and he trapped a nipple between his index finger and his thumb – pinched it and enjoyed the fleeting look of pleasure in her eyes though it was quickly replaced by fury again.
She looked too entrancing when she was angry, so temperamental and fuming that it only heightened his desire.
"Truss you up?" he asked her in a low silky tone, paused as he trailed his eyes across her body in a deliberately slow pace, and then smiled as he answered for her; "No you'd like that wouldn't you."
She started struggling again and he enjoyed her effort, the wriggling and the writhing – but he had her hard and firm into the mattress, no escaping.
"You have no right" she spoke, her voice threatening despite her position and her eyes narrowed, clouded by a hue of blue corbeau.
"I have every right" he retorted with fervour, running his fingers along her jaw and nuzzling her earlobe possessively. Leaning down he kissed the tip of her nose almost tenderly, paused and then latched onto her lips. Plundering her lips with rapacious zeal and sinking his teeth into her skin with passion. She moaned and he swallowing the whimper in his mouth – the flavour rich. He quickly retreated and smiled down at her triumphantly, her bared teeth snapping on bare air.
Her tongue flicked out and licked the small cut.
"I never knew you could be so insanely jealous" the burr of her voice turned dangerously soft and enthralled he watched the dark twirls of azure in her eyes as if lightning storms were gathering in her irises.
He shifted his weight on her, enjoying the small sound that escaped her lips against her will, and answered her in a likewise ominous voice; "Insane? No – merely slightly very mad" and he flashed his teeth, bared them and tightened his hold on her wrists in a display of his power. She went silent, a contemplative look in her eyes and a twisted half smile dancing on her red lips.
For a brief moment he felt his fury and temper waning, and he could feel the sneaking hidden roots of despair sink into him. She was the death of him – figuratively, metaphorically – allegorically; their love slowly but surely transforming him into something else. He could feel it crawling under his skin, foreign and dark. But mostly it consumed him whole and instead he felt the slumbering of what once was. The echo of himself hidden within him, mauled by the weight of what he'd become. There was only the sharp dark parts left of him, and they thrived. He felt foreign and tainted – but really couldn't pull any strength in fighting it. He enjoyed it too much, if he was honest. He drew a breath and let out his despondent mood and was once again flooded with his dark, twisted emotions.
She stared at him and he wondered if she had seen his transitory despair, if she had seen the momentary glimpse of his rotting soul – or maybe the measuring glint in her eyes were on behalf of something else.
"You killed him" she stated tonelessly and nodded to the floor, uncharacteristically solemn as if the fight had left her completely.
"Not yet – he still breathes." he defended himself with a half smile.
"Barely breathing," she corrected and continued in a low, undecipherable voice: "He will be dead before morning"
"Plenty of time, darling – morning is a long time away" he laughed, feeling giddy and excited again all of a sudden.
She went silent again and he watched her transform from sombre to furious once more, her features twisting and sharpening. Oh she was fuming most enticingly.
He twisted his hand into her hair and declared; "You are mine" while he tightened his hold on her wrists and ground his hips into her.
Low ripples of dark laughter erupted from her throat, "I'm really not"
"Oh yes you are - solely mine. The betrayer of my hearts" he whispered against her skin, brushing his lips across her cheek, stilling her laughter.
"There's nothing to betray" she spoke back in a soft voice, her breath warm on his skin but he detected something hard under the surface of it. Something brutal and toughened – it surprised him. The tone cold on his skin and the words sliced right through him razor-sharp and wounding.
As the entire texture of the words slipped in through his shock and melted with his mind, he bolted up and let go of her, drenched in cold black dread.
"You are my wife" he hissed at her, his hearts constricting with agony and heartbreak. She had to be – how could she not! "You are my beloved" he spoke in a smaller voice, the air leaving him and he felt lightheaded and sick.
She changed again, right in front of him, and he watched as something akin to joy flitted across her features as quick as lightning but it went so fast he couldn't hold unto it and instead it was replaced by an arched eyebrow and a scathing upturn to her smile – she was steel again.
"I belong to no one – least of all you."
"You belong with me – to me. I am yours" he told her desperately, his voice hitching as he stepped back from the bed, his bare feet sinking into the cold pool of blood on the floor – it barely registered in his mind though.
"Are you proposing!" she laughed mockingly and her eyes turned darker and darker, cold like the dead of winter.
The words rang in the small room, her smile taunting him and her eyes becoming colder and more foreign the longer he looked. He could almost feel control slipping from his grasp, fast and surely – and he would have let her win. If it hadn't been for that small glimmer of something intangible, something sweet he had glimpsed; if it hadn't been for her condescending smile. He saw behind her mask, the careful crafted façade she'd wound herself in like a shawl. Fear – miniscule and almost non-existent but there, tangible in the air around them. Fear that he would rip her heart to shreds, tear her apart.
And so he changed as well.
"Ye-es" he drew the word out in a smile and knew he had caught her by surprise then, her eyes wide and her mouth falling slightly open. Speechless and unmoving – too shocked to respond. He didn't care – he knew what her answer would be.
So he strode towards her in a swift bounce and propelled into her, clutching her to him as they landed once again on the bed. He plundered her mouth and her throat, his hands running across her skin with an almost frenzied feel to it, too overcome with exhilaration to comprehend anything but the soft feel of her. She was still though and not responding, almost limb in his arms.
He ended a kiss and leaned back; looking at her curiously though he could feel a small trickle of doubt starting to creep up on him. And just as he was about to worry she smiled, dragged him down and kissed him back, their mouths plying each other apart.
Full of joy and tingling excitement he ran his fingers into her wonderful curls, massaging her scalp and kissing every small area on her lips in between small proclamations of affection and whispers of love. She answered back in moans and laughter, her legs tightly around him and her hands holding his head as they sank deeper and deeper into the mattress, lost in each other and their thundering unruly emotions.
They made love on the blood-soaked bed –wild and untamed, dark and bright – he soared into the night with her in his arms. He would take good care of her heart – guard it with his life.
He promised her that – made it his vow.
This was their dark fairytale, and he would protect it.
-o-
Once, the River said: 'Love is the many shades of red – crimson and wild. Love is the untamed beast. It will tear our hearts asunder and devour us raw'
And Time replied: 'It will sink its claws into you and drain you, yes. It will hunt you down and dig holes through your ribs and bite your hearts in two, yes. It will devour you completely with its kisses and it will hurt, yes. But you will love nonetheless. That is the nature of love'
-o-
'And if they're not dead, then, now or tomorrow, they still live – somewhere, sometime, someplace'
-o-
Finite.
Yup I know it's AU and OC (maybe even beyond that) but I was tinkering with the idea of a Dark Doctor (yes capital Dark), and how he would be that on behalf of love. 'Love makes you blind' – only in his case a crazy, murdering maniac avenging whoever's aggrieved his lover or himself. Plus I like the whole concept of a dark fairytale with a twist (the dark fairytale universe where little red riding hood never gets rescued but remains in the stomach of the wolf – where snow white dies from the poisoned apple and the evil queen rules forever – or something along those lines. Much more fun than 'and they all lived happily ever after'). Though I think I need to go read some fluff =)
/Iso