Fic: Fade To Silver [Ceallach, Haruki]
Title: Taste of Victory Universe: Fade to Silver Characters: Ceallach, Haruki Word Count: 461 Rating: R-ish Date: 4th December 2006 (Backdated) Summary: Only Ceallach can make Haruki feel and he hates him for it.
The air’s torn from his lungs as his back hits the dirt and it feels like every bone in his body is rattling…broken and shattered from a blow that blindsided him without question nor hesitation. Felled by one lazy gesture of an arrogant hand, the Shadow Threads coiling poisonous serpents sinking their dark fangs into his sun born flesh and his Core is screaming at him to forsake solid form and retreat into the In between…make haste to home where healing will come swifter.
“You know.” Obnoxious booted feet step either side of his head and if Haruki looks past the pain blurred haze settling over his eyes he can make out the smirk curling Ceallach’s lips. “I could get used to this.”
He sits, heavier than need be but then again to the fallen Sunchild this comes as little surprise and renders Haruki completely immobile. Ebony wingspan shields the pair from prying eyes that don’t exist…not here where mortal eyes slips past as though there is nothing there, a simple trick of light and shadow that bends so naturally to the Princeling’s commands…Ceallach perching atop Haruki like a jungle cat. His eyes are feral orbs of slitted violet, drawing closer and closer until parted lips show just a hint of fang as Ceallach smiles in a way that’s not the least bit pleasant.
“I like you on your back.” Ceallach purrs, clawed fingertip tracing the curve of Haruki’s cheek bone and leaving crimson in its wake. “Underneath me. Powerless. It suits you.”
Haruki snarls, the emotion and expression drawn from within him effortlessly…always so easy for Ceallach to make him hate, rage, want until he’s a tangled web of feeling raw and screaming. It feeds him, passion fuelled power and Haruki surges forward despite the Shadow poison slowly seeping into his veins…slamming into Ceallach and crashing him into the ground.
“You.” Haruki has no words, straddled atop this arrogant Nightbeast with a forearm stealing the breath from Ceallach’s throat as it presses against the fragile windpipe. He’s panting, perfection stolen by clawed hands as his tangled golden locks start to unravel from their carefully woven braids, his blood gluing torn cloth to his bruised flesh.
Ceallach grins, thigh shifting to press between Haruki’s parted legs to rub against the hardness he knows he’ll find. When the Sunchild stiffens he won’t waste the advantage, lightening fast lips crushing against Haruki’s with a force meant to bruise, to drink in all that rage and hatred like the finest wine.
It’s a battle, a war with no clear victor until Haruki stumbles backwards with fire ablaze in amber orbs as he Catches in a flurry of Light Threads.
Ceallach wipes his lips with the back of his hand and his victory tastes of blood.