Title: My Prince.
Author: DdC
Fandom: The Dark is Rising
Pairing: Bran/Dark Rider
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Will, Bran or anything else that was mentioned in the Dark is Rising. Susan Cooper owns all that, not me. I make no money from this, and I mean no harm. Please don't sue
Summery: Bad guy, vunrable good guy, pain.
WARNING: Non-consentual pairing, Yaoi.
Note: This was written for the contrelamontre 45 minutes 'White' challenge. My first timed challenge, I hope I pass the grade. I appologise for my spelling, It's terrible and the spell check refused to work.
Standing here, I watch him, spread out on top of out bed, his nose buried in another book, dark pajama bottoms and quilt hiding his from me. He knows I'm here, though he can't see me with his human eyes. The hair on the back of his pale neck is standing on end though. Yes he knows. I wonder if he's thinking about the same thing as I am, I wonder if he remember the dream I gave him?
Ahh, yes, that was indeed a fun little adventure. What would that annoying little Sign Seeker think if he knew that last night in his little prince's own willing mind I ravished him? The look on his face would be worth seeing I'm sure. Would their cheeks blush red when they confronted each other?
The Pendragon's mind was willing to accept me last eve, mallable to my power thanks to that memory charm the Light's Brat put on him. It reached out to draw me in like the warm arms of a mother. Well I'm sure Freud would approve of that metaphor. Chuckling, I remember what I did to the pale young man before me, how I made his dreams my own because of his tempting, pure white flesh and snowy hair. Utter virginal innocence, the purity of the Light, the clearness of the dawn. How I hate it.
I bruised that tender flesh with my teeth and fingers. I mussed his hair and changed it's colour with his sweat and my come. I rid him of his tiresome purity with stolen kisses that made his colorless lips bleed vibrant red against his skin. He lost all that was virginal about him when I took him roughly, again, and again, and again. I did all this to him, I admit it freely and joyfully. I made the Albino Prince of the High Magic beg for more of my abuse. I made him beg for the sharpness of my teeth, yes. I made him beg for the sting of my blows, yes. I made him beg to be violated by the bruising thrusts of my cock into the deepest caverns of him, whether his mouth or his anus, yes. I made his clear voice ragged and pitiful, oh yes. I rid him of all the whiteness in him, the last of it spurting from him and into my mouth, and I swallowed it with relish.
He's not white anymore, dreams are, after all, real. The bruises I inflicted are still there, he hasn't managed to quite change his hair back to what it was, and don't you know, there's a reason why he's lying on his front and not sitting properly? No, all the pureness is gone from him. All the innocence lost when he accepted me into his mind. All the goodness lost when I claimed him.
A job well done I think. I step from the shadows that hid me, I'm already hard, but this time it's real. The terror on his face, for a moment, turns it back to it's original whiteness dispite bruises.
"Hello again." I state calmly, a leer I can't help on my face, once I've got him pinned to the mattress again. My fingers darken the bruises already there, and in his eyes, I see another shred of White sacrificed for his sanity. I can never be sure, but I think, in something quieter than a whisper I hear him call the name of that Light Brat for help. But then, it may have only been a whimper.
Written in 44 minutes
Author: DdC
Fandom: The Dark is Rising
Pairing: Bran/Dark Rider
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Will, Bran or anything else that was mentioned in the Dark is Rising. Susan Cooper owns all that, not me. I make no money from this, and I mean no harm. Please don't sue
Summery: Bad guy, vunrable good guy, pain.
WARNING: Non-consentual pairing, Yaoi.
Note: This was written for the contrelamontre 45 minutes 'White' challenge. My first timed challenge, I hope I pass the grade. I appologise for my spelling, It's terrible and the spell check refused to work.
Standing here, I watch him, spread out on top of out bed, his nose buried in another book, dark pajama bottoms and quilt hiding his from me. He knows I'm here, though he can't see me with his human eyes. The hair on the back of his pale neck is standing on end though. Yes he knows. I wonder if he's thinking about the same thing as I am, I wonder if he remember the dream I gave him?
Ahh, yes, that was indeed a fun little adventure. What would that annoying little Sign Seeker think if he knew that last night in his little prince's own willing mind I ravished him? The look on his face would be worth seeing I'm sure. Would their cheeks blush red when they confronted each other?
The Pendragon's mind was willing to accept me last eve, mallable to my power thanks to that memory charm the Light's Brat put on him. It reached out to draw me in like the warm arms of a mother. Well I'm sure Freud would approve of that metaphor. Chuckling, I remember what I did to the pale young man before me, how I made his dreams my own because of his tempting, pure white flesh and snowy hair. Utter virginal innocence, the purity of the Light, the clearness of the dawn. How I hate it.
I bruised that tender flesh with my teeth and fingers. I mussed his hair and changed it's colour with his sweat and my come. I rid him of his tiresome purity with stolen kisses that made his colorless lips bleed vibrant red against his skin. He lost all that was virginal about him when I took him roughly, again, and again, and again. I did all this to him, I admit it freely and joyfully. I made the Albino Prince of the High Magic beg for more of my abuse. I made him beg for the sharpness of my teeth, yes. I made him beg for the sting of my blows, yes. I made him beg to be violated by the bruising thrusts of my cock into the deepest caverns of him, whether his mouth or his anus, yes. I made his clear voice ragged and pitiful, oh yes. I rid him of all the whiteness in him, the last of it spurting from him and into my mouth, and I swallowed it with relish.
He's not white anymore, dreams are, after all, real. The bruises I inflicted are still there, he hasn't managed to quite change his hair back to what it was, and don't you know, there's a reason why he's lying on his front and not sitting properly? No, all the pureness is gone from him. All the innocence lost when he accepted me into his mind. All the goodness lost when I claimed him.
A job well done I think. I step from the shadows that hid me, I'm already hard, but this time it's real. The terror on his face, for a moment, turns it back to it's original whiteness dispite bruises.
"Hello again." I state calmly, a leer I can't help on my face, once I've got him pinned to the mattress again. My fingers darken the bruises already there, and in his eyes, I see another shred of White sacrificed for his sanity. I can never be sure, but I think, in something quieter than a whisper I hear him call the name of that Light Brat for help. But then, it may have only been a whimper.
Written in 44 minutes
