Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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27th December 2007 01:18 - Fic+Art: Pretty Liar (SB/RB, LM/RB; R)
Title: Pretty Liar
Author: [info]nishizono
Artist: [info]ships_harry
Characters: Regulus Black, Lucius Malfoy, Sirius Black
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest, dub-con, hurt/comfort
Themes/kinks chosen: Kinky Kristmas 2007
Word Count: ~1900
Media: PS and tablet

Summary: "It’s a pity, how fragile beautiful things can be."

Author's notes: With apologies to William Blake, whose masterpieces I've mutilated for my own nefarious purposes. If you're looking for mindless smut, you won't find it here. Thank you to Scarlet and Neha for looking this over (over and over and over again), and especially Scarlet for being so lovely to collaborate with.
Artist's notes: The images are not strict illustrations of what's happening in the story. The intent is to try and get across a feeling, little pieces of suggestion... here's hoping it works :). Nishi, holy hell, you're an absolute dream to collab with. This process was fun, rewarding, fascinating... made of awesome, basically.

Extra: For your listening pleasure:

Lucius: A Perfect Circle: Pet. Listen/Lyrics
Sirius: Nine Inch Nails: Reptile. Listen/Lyrics
Regulus: Massive Attack: Butterfly Caught. Listen/Lyrics

Art preview:





Thou art sick

My brother tastes like bruises.

I can feel them on my tongue, tapping the roof of my mouth to the count of four: Sirius Black. The air around me is thick with him, trapped in little glass picture frames on the walls and tangled up in heavy cotton sheets against my legs. I can't breathe with so much of him weighing down on me, and I touch my fingers to my throat, mapping the ridges that would fit, just so, against his knuckles.

There’s not enough of me left to erase the memory of him.



The invisible worm

Lucius Malfoy is a nightmare of pale hair and paler eyes that flash silver in the darkness; a lovely monstrosity with slender hands that capture fragile things and still their beating wings.

“Like pale fire,” I breathe, and reach up to touch his jaw with a fingertip.

“You’ve seen your brother tonight,” Lucius tells me, and I wonder if he can taste Sirius on my cheek.

“He’s telling lies to pretty girls,” I confess in a whisper.

“We all tell lies to pretty things,” Lucius hums to my wrist, caught between his teeth.

“I know,” I murmur, and stare at the butterflies lining the walls. Above the fireplace, two delicate creatures are strung up side by side; monarchs pierced by their own crowns, pinned and struggling against a glass prison.



That flies in the night

Sirius creeps in with floorboard creaks and a quiet flutter of velvet when the bed curtains close behind him. The others are sleeping, and we mustn't wake them; that would give away the game, and these little beating hearts we move 'round the playing board are all we have left.

“Guess who,” I breathe out.

“Fucking hell, Reg,” Sirius whispers. “Scared the piss out'ta me—what’re you doing in here?”

“You didn't tell me you were going out to play,” I pout, and inch the blanket down my chest. There’s bandaged blood just beneath my collarbone, and a cut on my cheek, and Sirius is the only one who can kiss them better.





In the howling storm

“You’re mine,” Lucius tells me, and I know it isn’t a question.

“I know,” I murmur, and curl around him to lick at the bruise on my forearm.

“The Dark Lord believes you should atone for your brother’s blood betrayal,” Lucius purrs against my ear, filling my veins with the flickering firelight of his voice. “But I won’t let the others near you; I love you.”

“Yes,” I whisper, because I believe the lies he tells me when no one can hear us breaking.



Cruelty has a Human Heart

“I'd rather watch you fuck Walden Macnair than have that snake-faced bastard anywhere near you,” Sirius murmurs, but he's peeling away the bandage on my cheek and healing my skin with his tongue. “How much longer are you gonna do this to me? You've gotta choose eventually, before you end up killing us both.”

“You're the one making choices,” I blink at the shadows on the wall. “I can taste someone else on your breath.”

Sirius stops, and the whiskey on his lips burns through me. “You know you're the most important--”

“Tisk tisk, shouldn't fib,” I whisper.



And Jealousy a Human Face

To Lucius, this thing we speak of and never do is an abstract thought given shape by words like ‘take’ and ‘claim’, and I shiver beside him while he whispers them against my ear. I feel desire in his hands, taste it on his tongue, but these distant touches are a nameless blasphemy when I can still hear my brother’s heartbeat fluttering in time with mine.

“I can’t,” I breathe.

Their weight inside me would crush my wings.

“I won’t, not tonight,” Lucius promises. “Just sleep.”

I obey, because it’s never occurred to me that I shouldn’t. When I dream, I dream of Sirius, and of myself, and of words like ‘love’ and ‘need’ wrapped up in silver thread.



And I water'd it in fears

“I'm healing 'em,” Sirius breathes out across my skin. “I don't care what that sadistic fuck says.”

I grab his wrist. “My Lord thinks I taste better bleeding.”

“Don't call him that when you're here with me,” Sirius growls.

“Kiss me,” I pout, winding my hand up the side of his arm and pulling him down. “It'll hurt until you do.”

“Shit,” Sirius scolds my wounds. “You told me Malfoy’s protecting you.”

“He contends with villains and gods,” I whisper, close my eyes and turn my face to the pillow. “Rather the Dark Lord take what his legion only covets.”



Night and morning with my tears

It’s raining thunder that shakes the walls and vibrates on my tongue. I trace my reflection on the windowpane, and the shape of Lucius in the doorway. There are shackles in his hands, and I touch those too, little points of silver shot through with wet black streaks of lightning.

“I need them tonight,” I whisper when he’s behind me and already slipping the cuffs over my wrists. “He’s still inside me, and I can’t let him out yet.”

The chains are heavy, and I wonder if this is how the butterflies feel.





And I sunned it with smiles

“You kissed someone, I can smell her all over you,” I accuse, tasting the shape of my brother’s ear with a fingertip. “What secrets did you put on her tongue?”

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” Sirius lies.

“It’s everything to do with me,” I murmur. “Your kisses are mine.”

“Then stop going to him,” Sirius pleads. “Stay with me and I'll take care of you, be your big brother again.”

“Pretty liar, I saw what you did to my brother when you came home with lipstick bruises on your throat,” I purr, wrapping his hair up in my fists. “There's no blood between us now that we're both poisoned; give us a kiss good-night.”





And with soft deceitful wiles

“It will be here, under my roof, if you insist on doing this mad thing,” Lucius tells me.

My hand drifts toward the fireplace, palm up against the flames. I can see the fragile veins beneath tissue paper skin, split apart and wrapped in gossamer bandages.

“If he hurts you—“ Lucius purrs, slinking across the floor and pressing the rest of his deceit to the back of my neck with his lips.

“Don’t touch their wings,” I murmur.

“I can’t stop you,” Lucius breathes, “but mark my words, Regulus, this time I’ll be the one licking your wounds.”

“My brother has no appetite for bruises,” I whisper, and move my hand closer to the flames.





Has found out thy bed

Sirius is standing in the study, whiskey in one hand and a fist in the other. I flutter my fingers over the back of his neck and lean in close behind him to breathe his breath and share his gaze. There are two monarchs trapped beneath glass, cloaked in long dead orange and red. I wonder if they hear the frantic beating of our hearts; and if they can, do they envy us?

A brush of my lips on the side of his throat, and my brother is turning in my arms.

“I'm not doing this with you,” Sirius whispers, but he is.

“I'm making you mine again,” I murmur, and I am.

My brother's lips are softer than the curses he mutters into my mouth, and gentler than the hands that come down hard on my shoulders. There's sunlight in our shadows, and laughter in our sighs. I can taste a thousand days of my childhood on his tongue.

Lucius is watching from the darkness, and I wonder if we’ll struggle when his net drags us from the sky.





Of crimson joy

“Take him from me, if you can,” Lucius whispers.

I shiver; my brother’s tongue is ice against my spine. The shackles are warm where his hands have frozen my skin, and when his teeth mark my inner thigh, I sob his name.

“I shouldn’t,” Sirius groans against my flesh. “Oh, I shouldn’t.”

“But you will anyway, won’t you?” Lucius breathes.

“Oh,” Sirius gasps, pressed tight up against me and trembling.

I can’t feel him inside me, even when he’s tearing into me with fingers that clutch and hips that bruise. Our heartbeats thrum out of time because I don’t want this—not with my brother’s voice whispering filth instead of love; not with this brutal agony that rips me apart.

“Please,” I choke, “stop.”

“Can’t—thought you wanted this, Reg,” Sirius pants behind me, pushing into me until I can’t taste anything but the sound of my ragged breathing.

“You wanted this,” Lucius reminds me.

The world is a shining web of moth eaten lace behind my eyelids; I’ve been staring at the sun for too long before being thrust into darkness. Sparks of flame are dancing synapse to synapse, vertebra to vertebra, whisper to whisper. My mouth is bleeding around my brother’s fingers, tongue raw against the calloused skin and throat torn from the jagged edges of his fingernails. I can’t breathe to scream.

“Regulus,” Sirius is muttering, quick and hot against my ear, “Regulus I love you.”

My head is wrenched back, base of my skull crushed against my shoulders. The slick heat of his chest is burning me, shivering down my spine in tiny bursts of fire that radiate through my thighs. I can feel his mouth on me, sharp points of his teeth marking the back of my neck, and I wonder if it’s me he’s tearing apart, or the remnants of his memory.

When I force my eyes to open, Lucius is watching us, pale shadows and silver fire. I’m pleading with him in short, violent gasps; I want trembling fingertips and breathy promises, not these shards of feeling that crawl inside and shatter. This is not my storybook romance.

“Now, now,” Lucius whispers and turns away, “mustn’t touch their wings.”

The hand over my mouth tastes like tears.



And his dark secret love

“I told you, Regulus,” Lucius whispers. “I told you he’d make a mockery of the gift you’ve given him.”

There are bruises on my wrists and blood on my thighs, and I’m being spread out over white cotton sheets. My wings have ceased beating, and I am his without question, a thoughtless thing that exists only to be beautiful.

“Will you pin me in place and hang me on the wall?” I murmur.

“Do you understand now?” Lucius hums, hovering above me, a silver flame in the shadows. “Do you see now that you belong with me, with us?”

“Yes,” I whisper, turn my face to the side, let my tears soak into the pillow. It’s burning my tongue: “Why?”

“We all,” Lucuis breathes against my ear, “like to break pretty things.”



Does thy life destroy

It seems fitting for the frame to shatter against the wall, for the blood to pool in the lines of my palm and drip from my fingertips. I’ll shed every drop of him until there’s nothing left but a beating heart and memory. My breath flutters their wings, and I hate the mimicry of life in my hand. Their bodies crumble in my fist, orange and red parchment dried by sunlight, and they flutter to the floor at my feet like brightly colored ashes. It’s a pity, how fragile beautiful things can be.

I lick my lips, and my mouth tastes like bruises.


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