Bite Me
~a BTL excerpt stand-alone~
by Lady Lye
In writing these huge fics, I end up with lil chunks that would make really cool stand-alone scenes. Here's one of them.
If you are reading By The Light..., go catch up on chapter 29 for the full chapter. If not, perhaps you'll join us!
Disclaimer: G-folks? Not mine. Concept? ALL MINE, BABY! Actually, I got inspired by that William the Bloody episode fo Buffy, but hey... History, however, belongs to the victor.
~%*%~
Chang Wufei
Born 1885CE*, Shansai, China.
Made 1900CE, Peking, China.
Wufei coughed, the smoke filling the air around him and forming a curtain that hung suspended from the ceiling, not quite touching the ground. He dropped down beneath it and crawled his way towards the door, hand over his mouth. Shouts and screams resonated outside- apparently it was easier for Isome/I people to breathe. The air was nearly black now, and Wufei reached blindly for the door handle- only to yank it back with a wounded howl. The fires had heated the knob until it seared his flesh; a tool turning on its master. Cursing, Wufei cradled his now useless appendage to his chest, thinking fast.
He had known the moment the Christian missionaries arrived that they would bring trouble, but he couldn't bring himself to call them by any of the insults developed no long after they appeared. To do so would be to insult his own family. It hadn't taken long for his mother to be drawn in, nor his young siblings, all under ten. It had been his father and he who held out… yet even his father had given in eventually. Wufei, though, had resisted throughout the debacle and continued to do so. He was a learned man, who had spent all of his fifteen years training to become a wealthy scholar, and potentially advisor to the emperor.
All that would be for naught, however, if he perished now in the flames of Peking's pyre. He pressed on, seeking an open doorway or something to break down the first. It was growing harder to breathe, harder to see, harder to function. A sudden gust of cool wind brought him to his senses abruptly, momentarily confusing him. Then he made for the source, as fast as his oxygen deprived limbs would take him. Yes, it was there- a clearance in the smoke- freedom-
A crushing weight came down onto Wufei's good hand, grinding it into the floor as he howled and tried vainly to get free. A throaty chuckle pierced the smoke and within seconds, a pale, smirking face seemed to appear from nowhere before him as he gaped in astonishment and horror. Surely she was meant to be pretty; she had the smooth, creamy features and complexion of the Chinese, but her eyes were a brilliant, pale blue, and they mocked him as her face twisted into that hideous scowl, framed by golden locks.
Soul trembling with primordial fear, Wufei stared at her, and at the blood-stained fangs she bared at him. "D-D-Demon!" he coughed.
She smirked and said something in a broken mix of English and another dialect of Chinese, and hauled him to his feet by his hair. The smoke made him choke, and when she yanked at him, he stumbled blindly. As soon as they cleared the hellish plumes, he began to hack up all the ash that had accumulated, eyes streaming. She allowed him no time for this, however, as she dragged him bodily away from the collapsing neighborhood, forcing him to trip and half fall, haphazardly, unable to get his bearings.
Suddenly, his back was rammed into a filthy alley wall, bruising already abused muscles. Through the haze of pain, he made out a few words, "charred and tender… delicious…" The pieces fell together and Wufei's eyes widened in realization. He began to struggle, but her grip was like iron, this beast that he could now see full-on.
She had to be a cross of Chinese and European descent. There was no other way to explain the unique blend of features, or her height, for she towered over him unlike any of the demure women he had always known. Her golden hair was piled atop her head in a mass of styled curls, a few wisps having come loose in the affair. Her dress was entirely indecent- such a thin, short, sleeveless dress could only be a British lady's underwear. She wore, too, the shoes of an Englishwoman, but her manner was beyond any of the kind, pleasant women his mother had introduced him to. Her painted face spoke of malice, superiority- and that hungry, devouring look his young bride had sometimes cast his way when she thought he wasn't looking…
Meiran… God- what if something had happened to her!? Where was she now!? Meiran-
His panic was cut abruptly short as the demoness' head shot forward and she buried her teeth into the supple flesh of his neck. Unutterable pain lanced across his skin and a gutteral, strangled sound choked from his throat, his hands automatically coming up to stop her, but they were bound by her own. He struggled to free himself- and froze. The pain had begun to subside. In its place, he could feel her lips and tongue, cool and moist, and caressing as they sucked away at his flesh. His cry was seconded by a moan, heat rising within his face and loins- this exotic creature was making love to him, here, setting his soul afire with passionate desire for her.
The passion- the heat- it was much like-
Like those quiet, private, intimate moments with Meiran… the moments when they could put aside their differences and almost believe their parents had made a good match for them…
Meiran! How could he be betraying Meiran like this!? But his limbs would no longer respond when he told them to move, to push this succubus away and reclaim his dignity. His vision was fading, and he could feel himself growing limp, his heart and breath slowing. Still the harpy sucked, not yet sated. As he lost consciousness, he thought he felt a smile in the press of lips to neck.
It was two weeks before he awoke, stiff and cold on the hard floor of a blackened, abandoned warehouse. His lids felt thick and heavy as he pried them open and stared at the ashen ceiling blearily. Everything felt… distorted something. The colors were slightly warped, the scents were thicker and more distinct, but the cloth against his skin felt courser, somehow. He sat up with a hiss of pain, brought on by aching joints that didn't want to move. As he shook his head to clear it, he heard voices, ringing clearly in his ears.
"Found you at last!"
A hiss. "Trying to play the righteous hero again, Steve?" The click of a heeled shoe on the stone floor.
"Stay back!" there was a tremble lacing the man's voice now. Wufei crawled to the half open doorway and peered through; The man's back was to him, but he could see that he clutched before him a cross, the Christian's holy symbol. His honey hair matched that of the very demoness whose face was the last Wufei remembered; she was now back against the wall, dressed in men's trousers, her hair in twin, twisted plaits over her shoulders. "I command you to keep back!"
She bared her fangs in a snarl, "We were once kin, Steve."
"I share no ties with vampires, Sally," he lifted his chin, but it was an empty gesture. He was afraid, and Wufei could smell the sweat and fear rolling off him.
"Oh?" she arched a carefully plucked brow. "Then why did you cross two continents to find me?!"
"You murdered our-" He dropped his hands in the slightest to make his point, and doomed himself for eternity. In an eye blink, she had shot forward and knocked the cross away; she threw herself at him and both tumbled to the ground, wrestling for dominance. Wufei watched in frozen, abject horror as they tussled, but was unable to move from his hideaway. He watched her fangs sink into his neck- and suddenly she froze, then shuddered.
"You bastard," she whispered, his blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
"Blood for blood," he pushed her off roughly. He stood, greatcoat swirling and shielding her from Wufei's sight. But even if he had been able to see what had forced the woman to go limp, Wufei wouldn't have cared.
Because blood had been shed, and he could smell it.
In an instant, his muscles regained their catlike flexibility and a speed he had never known he had. Within a heartbeat, he had down the man from behind, pinning him with his slighter form. The blood- it was making him insane- He had to have it, had to taste it; had to feel that ultimate connection of souls as the hot, pulsing lifeforce passed between them…
When the bloodlust subsided and Wufei's senses returned, he blinked in bewilderment at the scene before him. Blood covered his front, and the back of the man lying lifeless on the ground before him, his throat torn open. The gaping hole made the bile rise in Wufei's gut, disgusted at what had taken place. It took him several moments to realize he himself had been the destroyer.
He turned slowly, and encountered the husk of the demoness- the man had called her a vampire. It was a word he didn't know in English, but he could guess it's Chinese equivalent. Chiang Sze: the wild souls who drank blood. She was still huddled over her midsection, but there was something odd about her skin-
"OI! What are you doing in here!?"
Wufei whirled, a pack of men with torches standing in the far doorway. He ran. Fire, men, all that blood, two corpses… He pelted for the opposite door and out into the decimated city. He was a convict now, a hunted man.
Only he wasn't even a man anymore…
~%*%~
Yep, that's it. Cuz I'm evil and I write disturbing pieces like that. If you must know more...
By The Light... is my tremendous GW/SM crossover in which the G-Boys are vampires and (one)werewolves.
Before you write it off as another crappy crossover-
BTL has: Comedy, Sex, Violence, Romance, Homo AND Heterosexually (OMG!!!! *dies of shock*), Magic, Supernatural buggers, Unconventional Pairings, odd twists and my extremely cruel nature when it comes to cliffhangers.
Was this all one big plug?
My question is- did it work?
And, seriously, did you enjoy this clip? I would never have posted it if I thought it wasn't good.
-Lady
~a BTL excerpt stand-alone~
by Lady Lye
In writing these huge fics, I end up with lil chunks that would make really cool stand-alone scenes. Here's one of them.
If you are reading By The Light..., go catch up on chapter 29 for the full chapter. If not, perhaps you'll join us!
Disclaimer: G-folks? Not mine. Concept? ALL MINE, BABY! Actually, I got inspired by that William the Bloody episode fo Buffy, but hey... History, however, belongs to the victor.
~%*%~
Chang Wufei
Born 1885CE*, Shansai, China.
Made 1900CE, Peking, China.
Wufei coughed, the smoke filling the air around him and forming a curtain that hung suspended from the ceiling, not quite touching the ground. He dropped down beneath it and crawled his way towards the door, hand over his mouth. Shouts and screams resonated outside- apparently it was easier for Isome/I people to breathe. The air was nearly black now, and Wufei reached blindly for the door handle- only to yank it back with a wounded howl. The fires had heated the knob until it seared his flesh; a tool turning on its master. Cursing, Wufei cradled his now useless appendage to his chest, thinking fast.
He had known the moment the Christian missionaries arrived that they would bring trouble, but he couldn't bring himself to call them by any of the insults developed no long after they appeared. To do so would be to insult his own family. It hadn't taken long for his mother to be drawn in, nor his young siblings, all under ten. It had been his father and he who held out… yet even his father had given in eventually. Wufei, though, had resisted throughout the debacle and continued to do so. He was a learned man, who had spent all of his fifteen years training to become a wealthy scholar, and potentially advisor to the emperor.
All that would be for naught, however, if he perished now in the flames of Peking's pyre. He pressed on, seeking an open doorway or something to break down the first. It was growing harder to breathe, harder to see, harder to function. A sudden gust of cool wind brought him to his senses abruptly, momentarily confusing him. Then he made for the source, as fast as his oxygen deprived limbs would take him. Yes, it was there- a clearance in the smoke- freedom-
A crushing weight came down onto Wufei's good hand, grinding it into the floor as he howled and tried vainly to get free. A throaty chuckle pierced the smoke and within seconds, a pale, smirking face seemed to appear from nowhere before him as he gaped in astonishment and horror. Surely she was meant to be pretty; she had the smooth, creamy features and complexion of the Chinese, but her eyes were a brilliant, pale blue, and they mocked him as her face twisted into that hideous scowl, framed by golden locks.
Soul trembling with primordial fear, Wufei stared at her, and at the blood-stained fangs she bared at him. "D-D-Demon!" he coughed.
She smirked and said something in a broken mix of English and another dialect of Chinese, and hauled him to his feet by his hair. The smoke made him choke, and when she yanked at him, he stumbled blindly. As soon as they cleared the hellish plumes, he began to hack up all the ash that had accumulated, eyes streaming. She allowed him no time for this, however, as she dragged him bodily away from the collapsing neighborhood, forcing him to trip and half fall, haphazardly, unable to get his bearings.
Suddenly, his back was rammed into a filthy alley wall, bruising already abused muscles. Through the haze of pain, he made out a few words, "charred and tender… delicious…" The pieces fell together and Wufei's eyes widened in realization. He began to struggle, but her grip was like iron, this beast that he could now see full-on.
She had to be a cross of Chinese and European descent. There was no other way to explain the unique blend of features, or her height, for she towered over him unlike any of the demure women he had always known. Her golden hair was piled atop her head in a mass of styled curls, a few wisps having come loose in the affair. Her dress was entirely indecent- such a thin, short, sleeveless dress could only be a British lady's underwear. She wore, too, the shoes of an Englishwoman, but her manner was beyond any of the kind, pleasant women his mother had introduced him to. Her painted face spoke of malice, superiority- and that hungry, devouring look his young bride had sometimes cast his way when she thought he wasn't looking…
Meiran… God- what if something had happened to her!? Where was she now!? Meiran-
His panic was cut abruptly short as the demoness' head shot forward and she buried her teeth into the supple flesh of his neck. Unutterable pain lanced across his skin and a gutteral, strangled sound choked from his throat, his hands automatically coming up to stop her, but they were bound by her own. He struggled to free himself- and froze. The pain had begun to subside. In its place, he could feel her lips and tongue, cool and moist, and caressing as they sucked away at his flesh. His cry was seconded by a moan, heat rising within his face and loins- this exotic creature was making love to him, here, setting his soul afire with passionate desire for her.
The passion- the heat- it was much like-
Like those quiet, private, intimate moments with Meiran… the moments when they could put aside their differences and almost believe their parents had made a good match for them…
Meiran! How could he be betraying Meiran like this!? But his limbs would no longer respond when he told them to move, to push this succubus away and reclaim his dignity. His vision was fading, and he could feel himself growing limp, his heart and breath slowing. Still the harpy sucked, not yet sated. As he lost consciousness, he thought he felt a smile in the press of lips to neck.
It was two weeks before he awoke, stiff and cold on the hard floor of a blackened, abandoned warehouse. His lids felt thick and heavy as he pried them open and stared at the ashen ceiling blearily. Everything felt… distorted something. The colors were slightly warped, the scents were thicker and more distinct, but the cloth against his skin felt courser, somehow. He sat up with a hiss of pain, brought on by aching joints that didn't want to move. As he shook his head to clear it, he heard voices, ringing clearly in his ears.
"Found you at last!"
A hiss. "Trying to play the righteous hero again, Steve?" The click of a heeled shoe on the stone floor.
"Stay back!" there was a tremble lacing the man's voice now. Wufei crawled to the half open doorway and peered through; The man's back was to him, but he could see that he clutched before him a cross, the Christian's holy symbol. His honey hair matched that of the very demoness whose face was the last Wufei remembered; she was now back against the wall, dressed in men's trousers, her hair in twin, twisted plaits over her shoulders. "I command you to keep back!"
She bared her fangs in a snarl, "We were once kin, Steve."
"I share no ties with vampires, Sally," he lifted his chin, but it was an empty gesture. He was afraid, and Wufei could smell the sweat and fear rolling off him.
"Oh?" she arched a carefully plucked brow. "Then why did you cross two continents to find me?!"
"You murdered our-" He dropped his hands in the slightest to make his point, and doomed himself for eternity. In an eye blink, she had shot forward and knocked the cross away; she threw herself at him and both tumbled to the ground, wrestling for dominance. Wufei watched in frozen, abject horror as they tussled, but was unable to move from his hideaway. He watched her fangs sink into his neck- and suddenly she froze, then shuddered.
"You bastard," she whispered, his blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
"Blood for blood," he pushed her off roughly. He stood, greatcoat swirling and shielding her from Wufei's sight. But even if he had been able to see what had forced the woman to go limp, Wufei wouldn't have cared.
Because blood had been shed, and he could smell it.
In an instant, his muscles regained their catlike flexibility and a speed he had never known he had. Within a heartbeat, he had down the man from behind, pinning him with his slighter form. The blood- it was making him insane- He had to have it, had to taste it; had to feel that ultimate connection of souls as the hot, pulsing lifeforce passed between them…
When the bloodlust subsided and Wufei's senses returned, he blinked in bewilderment at the scene before him. Blood covered his front, and the back of the man lying lifeless on the ground before him, his throat torn open. The gaping hole made the bile rise in Wufei's gut, disgusted at what had taken place. It took him several moments to realize he himself had been the destroyer.
He turned slowly, and encountered the husk of the demoness- the man had called her a vampire. It was a word he didn't know in English, but he could guess it's Chinese equivalent. Chiang Sze: the wild souls who drank blood. She was still huddled over her midsection, but there was something odd about her skin-
"OI! What are you doing in here!?"
Wufei whirled, a pack of men with torches standing in the far doorway. He ran. Fire, men, all that blood, two corpses… He pelted for the opposite door and out into the decimated city. He was a convict now, a hunted man.
Only he wasn't even a man anymore…
~%*%~
Yep, that's it. Cuz I'm evil and I write disturbing pieces like that. If you must know more...
By The Light... is my tremendous GW/SM crossover in which the G-Boys are vampires and (one)werewolves.
Before you write it off as another crappy crossover-
BTL has: Comedy, Sex, Violence, Romance, Homo AND Heterosexually (OMG!!!! *dies of shock*), Magic, Supernatural buggers, Unconventional Pairings, odd twists and my extremely cruel nature when it comes to cliffhangers.
Was this all one big plug?
My question is- did it work?
And, seriously, did you enjoy this clip? I would never have posted it if I thought it wasn't good.
-Lady