Breathing By Rote, Chapter 5.
Warning: incest, modified content.
oOo
They came to New York in 1973. It was a lovely town, rich in life and corruption, so full of misery and torment Drusilla never quite came down from its high. Spikey was hunting, nose to the ground and mumbling about too much crack in the sidewalks and slipping time. He was most amusing going on about it, about little boys, kittens and their missing Daddy. They were here to look for Daddy though Spike said in that sideways way of his that with the Master up and into the air who cared where Daddy had gone? The Dark Lady did and though she ignored them most of the time she would occasionally circle around, smelling sharply of want and nasty things that made Drusilla have nightmares for weeks after. Her William would try to soothe her, would even put a play on with her dolls, but she noticed the way he watched her. Her William didn't trust his Princess, not when Mumsy was about. So afraid she was going to tell their grand-sire about his kitten and Daddy's Glass.
When Spike killed the Slayer he brought her a glass of warm blood, straight from the heart as it pumped its last. Snapping the neck will let you do that if you have the trick. A good-bye present of a sorts as he faded from her awareness shortly after. Her William did not leave her alone, but she could barely hear the minions that circled like crows, cawing faintly beneath the cacophony of the stars. They sang to her such sweet sonnets. Before her hollow Spike and his kitten had tumbled out of that dried teacup the stars had been screeching at her, upset at what was coming, at the thick spoilt blood that had been filling their house. So close, so close, but now Daddy was making Glass and she knew, she knew they were all supposed to stay quiet. Shades of Glass were filling up the teacup, but Daddy didn't mind. The sparkliest was already swallowed down. So she stayed in her dark little town with her dark little birds and waited for her William to come back from taking his kitten for walkies. Waited and watched. Time was mean if you didn't watch it. Just look what it had done to Miss Edith's dress.
oOo
The heavy metal black door banged open, admitting the hulking figures of two demons casually dragging a small body between them. The vast chamber echoed their heavy footsteps, the crowd that easily numbered in the hundreds peeling away to let them carry their burden to the far end of the long stretch of pale blue tile. The room was heavy with shadows, the few lights far overhead in the metal rafters absorbing into the blue walls rather than reflecting, fostering an even greater illusion of space. There were no windows, but most of the denizens could see clearly in the dim lighting. Against the far wall was a raised platform wide enough for several people to comfortably stand on, with an expensively brocaded chair reminiscent of centuries past placed in the middle.
The man sitting sprawled in the wide chair watched the demons approach with a remote expression. Stopping several feet from the platform the two bowed, and at his hand gesture, dropped their delivery. The body groaned and shifted a little, but didn't do more than that. Caked in mud and reeking of urine, sweat, blood and the bitter odor of automobile exhaust it was difficult to make out any distinguishing features, but beneath all of this failure was a scent that had imprinted itself over the last two decades. Beneath the cloying odors of despair and pain was the indelible musk of a Finn, calling strongly to their master. No matter their conscious, illusionary independence, each and every single one of the Finn children belonged to the Order of Aurelius. The youngest three were redolent with this ownership, minds and souls fettered to their tainted blood. The oldest three, having lived some short years free of their master's yoke, required more focused attention to bring them to heel. The eldest had succumbed to laughter and friendship, sweetly wooed and lightly marked, her master thinking of the future children to come. The twins, however, had plainly suffered from a sporadic father and no other strong influence to curb their reckless, foolish wildness. Some children needed a heavy hand to grow strong.
"Well?" Angelus said drolly, swinging a leg over the side of the thickly padded armchair. A trembling hand grabbed hold of his expensive loafer, but the vampire ignored the contact.
"Got about a quarter mile outside of town before his ankle gave," the demon on the left answered. "Passed out and fell into a ditch. Laid there for three hours or so. Tried to get back up but that ankle's a ripe peach."
"Did he call out for help?"
"No, sir. Cried some, but never made a wordy peep."
"Let him lay there the night like you ordered, my lord," volunteered the demon on the right. "Collected him up in the morning and brought him straight here."
Angelus nodded, hooded gaze focused on the filthy body griming his floor. "Ian. You have failed your twin."
The thin shoulders spasmed, the abraded and dirt crusted hands curled into useless fists and slowly the teenager pushed himself onto his elbows. His head did not lift more than a few inches, but Angelus could see the fresh tears marking his cheeks. "please don't hurt my brother," the choked voice rasped faintly, trying to beg for what his foolishness had lost. "whatever you want, I'll do it. please, mister, let my brother go and I'll do anything you want."
The sudden action of Angelus swinging to his feet had Ian jerking his head up with an inarticulate sound of fear. Keeping his eyes locked on those frightened hazel orbs the vampire held his hand out to the side and was not disappointed when a smaller hand settled into his own, the figure that had been huddled into the shadows of his chair obediently unfolding into the weak light. The dark gold expanse of nudity caught Ian's attention and his breath hitched to see his twin. Patrick was unclothed but for the heavy collar about his neck, unmarked but from the bruises he'd acquired in the alley and a new, purplish blemish that stained the inside of his left wrist. His attention on his twin was slightly vacant, but he smiled at the sight of him, his rolled mind clearing enough to recognize the face near identical to his own.
"Ian," he said softly.
"Patrick, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ian cried, watching the vampire step down off the platform with Patrick a step behind.
A tall man stepped out of the watching crowd and accepted the collared youth when Angelus handed him off. Back to front the man gently clasped Patrick about the ribs, nuzzling into his throat. The twins did not look away from each other, one gaze distant and the other terrified. Angelus dropped into a crouch before Ian.
"It's time to learn the cost of failure, Ian. If you had made your way here on your own then Patrick would be yours. But you didn't, did you? Patrick now belongs to me, Master Angelus. Should I kill him, Ian? Should I kill him quickly or have him gang raped first? Should I take off body parts, one by one, until he goes into shock? Suffocation? Disembowelment? Tell me, Ian. Tell me how your sweet twin deserves to die."
"No, please, please, m-Master Angelus, don't kill Patrick! Kill me, kill me but Patrick, he didn't fail, he doesn't deserve to die!" Ian was babbling, but he couldn't look away from his brother, afraid each breath was his last.
"Do you deserve to die, Ian?" Angelus quietly asked, watching that last little piece of resistance to his dominion break off inside the boy.
"Yes," the boy gasped.
"And why do you deserve to die, Ian?"
"Because I failed Patrick!" Ian sobbed, collapsing back onto the floor.
Now they couldn't have anyone missing the show. Angelus grimaced, but took a handful of filthy hair and yanked the boy up onto his knees. "You did indeed fail Patrick and you need to learn, little boy, every failure, every victory, has consequences. The man holding your brother is named Alessandro. He is a werewolf, a very old and powerful werewolf. I was going to let him eat your brother, but since you have begged so nicely, I shall let him infect Patrick instead."
"No, no, no, no," Ian chanted the word over and over, too weak to struggle from the painful clutch at his hair, wide eyes locked on the man licking his twin's throat, his shoulder. When the man, Alessandro, suddenly changed, suddenly grew into a wolfish monster like out of one of their comic books, Ian screamed. The slavering jagged tooth maw closed over Patrick's shoulder with the most horrible noise and his twin screamed again. Blood and clear fluid ran down Patrick's chest and Ian heaved, ripping free to vomit across the tile floor.
Angelus left him there, gaining his feet to walk the few steps to the entranced twin. As quickly as he had changed to execute the bite Alessandro had changed back, softly rumbling as he licked the blood and werewolf spittle from the youth's back, whispering praise and endearments for Patrick being so very brave. Shifting into gameface Angelus started on his front, hands gentle where he placed them beneath the werewolf alpha's. Patrick floated between them, the pain as distant as his master had promised, barely felt over the arousing sensations of being held and tended to. When the two masters stepped back the horrible bite was closed and looking months old. With a last touch to his newest pack brother Alessandro faded back into the crowd.
Another servant handed Angelus a collar identical to Patrick's, with a two foot lead attached. Putting the collar into the boy's keeping the master vampire carefully guided him over to his twin. Ian was dry heaving and sobbing, hunched over his knees as he mindlessly rocked himself. There wasn't much left to the boy, but what there was Patrick would soon mold to his likeness. Ian was the brash, headstrong loud mouth of the two, but it was always quieter Patrick who had possessed the strength to see his twin safely through. It was for that strength Angelus had taken Patrick first, knowing if their roles had been reversed, Patrick would have moved the world to make it to his brother. As it was he had surrendered his self, willingly and without protest, to guarantee Ian's life.
A nudge of his shoe had Ian crying out and scrambling away, but the boy did not get far with his two babysitters standing right behind him. Fetching up against their legs Ian wailed, mindless until Patrick stepped into his sight, as calm as ever. "P- P-Patrick?" Ian stammered.
"For the three nights of the full moon every month your twin shall be taken from you," Angelus said ruthlessly. "Every month you shall be reminded of your failure to save your brother. Unless you are willing to share his curse?"
Ian stared at him dumbly before his shell shocked eyes went to his twin. "Curse?"
"Bond to your brother and you can take the curse for him. You would share the burden of the full moon."
"Patrick . . . Why couldn't you just infect me? He doesn't deserve this."
"Because you failed. Now decide. Share your brother's curse or leave this place alone."
That was unacceptable and Angelus smiled to see the boy's back stiffen. "No. I . . .he's mine and I don't care what you do to us, you can't have him. I'll share this curse. I'll change every month so Patrick won't have to."
Oh, foolish little boy, that wasn't how the magic worked, but Angelus wasn't going to enlighten him. In a few years, when the wolf had wholly become a part of them both it wouldn't matter anyway. Patrick was his and very soon he'd have the set. "Then claim your brother and take on his curse."
It was the cue Patrick had waited for and his grip on the collar in his hands was white knuckled as he stepped forward. The two demons at his back quickly lifted Ian into the air and stripped him of the rags of his clothing, their claws leaving him bare in seconds. Before he could protest Patrick handed one the collar that matched his own and Ian's was securely buckled into place. Monstrous fingers delicately handled the dangling end of the short lead, clipping it onto Patrick's collar so that when they dropped Ian to the floor his twin followed him down.
Though the sudden jarring of his ankle made him whiten Ian hugged Patrick to him, seating his brother in his lap. An embrace Patrick returned, though with far more intent. Ian gave a muffled yelp when Patrick kissed him as he had been taught in just the few hours before, his mouth claiming his twin's fully. After a brief struggle Ian hesitantly started to kiss back, eyes falling shut. Patrick's stayed open, however, clearing of their clouds as he rubbed against his brother, stroked his back and sides. When a tentative hand brushed over his smooth shoulder he hummed in approval, encouraging his twin to touch him, learn him in ways they had never known.
It did not take two sixteen year olds long become aroused, no matter having an audience or physical exhaustion. Patrick's organ had swelled as soon as Ian had begun to reciprocate the kiss, Ian unable to resist the friction of his twin's muscular ass cheeks pressing and undulating against his bared crotch.
"This is wrong," Ian gasped, clutching the sweet smelling body in his arms all the tighter despite his denial. "We shouldn't be doing this, Pat."
Reaching beneath him Patrick fondled the turgid length he found, luring it into position. "I love you, Ian," he whispered against his twin's lips, tongue licking away his innocent tears as he joined them together with one courageous thrust. A strobe of light passed from Patrick's collar, down the metal lead and into Ian's, though neither noticed the spell's completion. A scar identical to Patrick's started to well up from beneath the skin of Ian's shoulder just as Patrick's slightly faded.
"Shh, no tears," Patrick soothed, sliding in his brother's lap with Lolita confidence.
"Patrick," Ian gasped, his twin's name the only word he seemed capable of. Warily putting his hands on Patrick's bony hips he started to help his brother to move, thrusting his own hips harder. It seemed the right thing to do because Patrick moaned in the most beautiful way and wound his arms around Ian's neck, letting him direct the force of their coupling.
Throwing his head back at a particularly brutal surge against his sweet spot Patrick smiled to see Angelus standing behind Ian, watching them with golden eyes. Bending down Patrick whispered in his twin's ear, lovingly carding those dirty brown locks. "Master loves us, Ian, can't you tell? He wants us to be together forever. He has made me strong for you."
Patrick was the means to control Ian and all Patrick had ever wanted was his twin. It was his deepest, most shameful secret and Angelus forgave him for it with a gentle caress of his cheek. "Come now, Patrick. Let Ian feel what he had done to you."
No further prompting was needed. With a high pitched wail Patrick came, an orgasm as he had never known at his own hand shaking him hard. Not that Ian would ever let him fall. Ian was still crying as he found his own release, but there was a new awareness is his eyes when Angelus caught his chin and tilted his head back.
"Patrick is your responsibility now, Ian," Angelus said in his most calming voice, reaching for the boy's right wrist. Panting sharply and clutching his twin possessively the boy watched dazedly as the vampire shifted faces, fangs lightly scraping. "You are twins and mates, bound for life." The youth barely flinched at the sinking of canines into the thin skin. Angelus drew heavily, swallowing mouthful after mouthful as he drew on the necessary power to lay his claim. When at last he lifted his mouth he licked the wounds closed, smiling to see a mark matched to Patrick's. Ian's eyes were glassy and this time it was Patrick who took his brother's weight.
"Clean them and put them in a room to recover," he ordered of the two demons who had patiently waited throughout. "Do not separate them."
oOo
In retrospect, curled around his twin in this dark place, Patrick had known better. By the pain radiating up from his sore ass, he had known better, but since practically the day they'd come squalling into the world he could never deny his brother anything. Anything at all.
Reaching up he felt the leash that bound them together, that symbolized their union as mates. Werewolves together. In service to their Master, Angelus. What he had done was wrong, he had known better, but Patrick refused to regret this one thing he had not denied himself. Ian was his. Forever.
The sound of a door opening had him rearing up protectively over his still sleeping twin, but it was just their master. Slowly Patrick relaxed back onto the mattress, nuzzling into Ian's clean hair to help himself calm. Closing the door behind himself Angelus crossed to the room's only furniture. Sitting on the edge of the bed the vampire petted each twin in turn, smiling that both, sleeping and waking, moved into his touch.
"You two were out by the mines past Mr. Wilson's stead when Ian fell and sprained his ankle. Mr. Wilson will find you and bring you home," Angelus softly explained. "Mr. Wilson will not hurt your mother but he will make her believe him."
"He's a demon," Patrick put together, somewhat surprised the old man who had been a part of Huxley's community for what he had thought forever wasn't even human.
"Yes. Your collars must come off, but they will stay here for when you can return." From his pocket Angelus pulled forth a matching pair of leather cuffs. "To hide your marks and remind you of your commitment to each other."
Taking one of the cuffs Patrick saw that there was a capital A burned into the inside of the soft leather. On the other side was a quarter moon within a circle. The Wolves of Angelus.
TBC.
