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Blade Fic

Title: A Human Link

Author: veiledndarkness

Rating: R

Pairing: Deacon Frost/Scud (Josh)

Summary: He’s caught in their world, trapped in the middle of their fight.

Disclaimer: The characters within are not mine, no harm is intended, and no profit has been made.

*I’ve messed about with the storylines from Blade & Blade 2. For now, let’s pretend neither movie went as we’ve seen it.*


Chapter 1


Daytime was infinitely more boring than night time, Scud decides as he watches the sun slowly sink beyond the horizon, a brilliant burst of colour streaming as the golden light died away, making room for the darkness of night.

He supposes with a twist of bittersweet irony that he hadn’t made much use of daylight when the option had been his. He’d never been much for getting up early and often slept well into the afternoon before stumbling out and joining the crowds that favoured the nightlife. He’d often stayed up until dawn just because he could and his line of work sure as Hell wasn’t a nine to five to begin with.

He leaves his cigarette between his lips and fidgets with the bottom of the cross he still wears. It seems to amuse him that he had it to begin with. He runs his thumb over the ridges of the silver cross, cigarette dipping lower between his lips. After a moment’s pause, he stubs the butt out in the overflowing ashtray nearby and exhales a thin stream of smoke.

The sun’s dropped below the horizon abruptly and Scud shivers, already chilled.

Chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively, he watches the last bit of colour fade from the sky, dark, inky black stealing over. He sighs and rests his head to the wall near the immense sliding glass doors that lead out to the patio, to where the artificial fountain flows silently, to the very edge of this crypt in the sky.

This was as far as he would go, as far as he’d let himself come to the doors. He knows that if he dared disobey the orders given, if he were to wander about and touch the water or lean over the side of the building, he’d fall, fall all the way to the bottom and no amount of King’s horses and King’s men would be able to piece him back together.

He could hear the footsteps now, whisper quiet ones that moved closer up behind him. Without thought, without realization, he turns his head to the side, exposing his neck. Let it never be said that he didn’t learn quickly in life.

He can feel his presence then and it sends shivers down his spine.

Cool fingers slip over his neck, stroking, touching his pale throat, feeling his pulse. A breath catches in his throat at the gentle squeeze from the fingers holding him in place. He can feel those devilishly sharp fingernails, seemingly filed to points, tracing over his skin and oh God…he wants to drop to his knees, weakened by a mere touch from a vampire.

Scud stares out the window as his fingers move up and into his hair, stroking, petting his scruffy strands, arranging and settling them to his liking. Scud can see a glimpse of razor sharp teeth in the glass, lips descending to his neck and he stifles a moan at the pressure along his skin, right to that spot below his ear, the one that makes any resistance he has crumble away every damned time.

He hears him chuckle, the sound low and seductive and he lets his eyes close, melting back into his embrace. He hears the words repeated to him and he can’t help but want to believe him at least a little when he tells Scud how dangerous it is to wander alone, to wander so close to the windows, to the world outside.

Doesn’t he know how much safer he is indoors, with him, away from the criminals, away from the monsters hiding in wait for their next victim? There’s more to fear outside, down there.

He hates that the words work their magic on him and how he doesn’t put up a fight when he’d led away from the windows, away from the darkening sky, away from the cold walls and back into the private rooms that his Master owns, back into his bedroom.

He sits passively on the bed and the last of his cigarette is removed from his hand and he stares up at the ceiling, wishing he could see the stars emerging in the night sky.

His Master studies his face and the frown on his own is frightening. Scud gnaws on his lower lip and the fear he feels is reflexive. He’s yet to have been seriously hurt by him but there’s an ungodly amount of strength hidden in Deacon Frost’s body and he hates the fact that he’s all too aware of what a vampire like him could do to Scud.

He touches Scud’s chin, turning his face this way and that, his frown fading into a scowl before he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts Scud, as easily as though he were lifting a pillow, and settles him across his lap, head tilted back and to the side, exposing his neck once more.

He fists his hand in Scud’s hair none too gently and lowers his mouth, tracing the small bruise that lingers on his skin from being marked and claimed not long ago with the tip of his tongue and Scud can’t help the small moan that escapes him, he really can’t.

Slow, light at first, the barest touch of fangs to his skin and his nerves are screaming and he’s tensing in his Master’s lap, reclined in his arms only because his Master wishes it so and he can feel his heartbeat slamming against his ribcage and he knows that his face is flushed but all he can think of is the feel of those teeth sliding into his skin.

He gasps and bucks once as they pierce through and he can hear the grunt from above him and he fists his hand, grasping the expensive material of his Master’s pants, feeling as though he’s flying and falling at once.

Scud closes his eyes and his body jerks as his blood flows out and into Deacon’s mouth and just when he thinks he can’t hang on just one moment more, he’s lifted, a tongue sliding over his throat, sealing his wounds. He sways, dizzy and aroused and he can’t think straight as he’s manipulated and situated on his Master’s lap, kneeling on either side of his legs, his mouth meeting Deacon’s and he can feel Deacon’s tongue sliding against his and taste his own coppery blood.

He moans and arches his back, knowing that he’s allowed to take now, and he does, biting down on Deacon’s lip as he feels the hands strip his clothes away, as his body is touched by slightly warmer fingers, as he’s stroked and teased and as he feels his release flow from him, he can’t remember why on Earth he would want to leave this place.


He can’t believe his luck when the babe sitting on the barstool next to him starts giving him the once over and smiles as she does. She’s eyeing him like she wants to fuck him three ways from Sunday and who is he to pass up the opportunity to mess around with a woman this hot?

And then…Jesus, she whispers in his ear that she’s got a girlfriend who likes to share and does he want to join them?

As if he’d say no.

She tells him her name is Janet, and this is her girlfriend, Chrissy, and they stare at him with hungry eyes.

Before he knows what’s happening, these two have him in the alleyway beside the club and they have him up against the rough brick wall and he can hear the music pulsing from inside and feel their hands ripping his shirt open and that’s when he feels some fear trickling in.

The buttons to his shirt scatter over the dirty ground and they kiss along his neck and chin, sharp, slightly painful kisses and he tries to remember why this was a good idea and right as he wants to mumble an excuse as to why he needs to leave, he feels something stab into his stomach.

Pain, white-hot pain scorches up his stomach and chest and he tries to cry out but nothing happens beyond a choked whimper. They’re…they’re ripping into his skin and blood…his blood covers their fingers and he wants to vomit but he can’t move from their steel grip on his arms.

He tries to buck, tries to kick and squirm but nothing beyond a few feeble jerks happen and he sobs out a breath and it hurts! Fuck, but it hurts! Tears run down his cheeks as they croon and laugh and lick their blood-slick fingers.

As darkness bleeds into his vision and he falls to the ground beneath him, he reels to the sound of someone hissing in a language he doesn’t know, to the sound of angry words exchanged and the sound of harsh female shrieks. A figure looms over him and he stares up at the person who’s rescued him but he doesn’t feel safe, not one bit.




Mar. 22nd, 2012 09:17 pm (UTC)
Thanks :)

I was pecking away at another chapter and I'm happy to say I finished it today. I hope you enjoy that one as well.

Thanks for the kind words! :)