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raynedanserwritesTITLE: Pulse
AUTHOR: Den /![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raynedanser
RATING: Hard R for Blood and Stuff
Word Count: 1842
SUMMARY: AU - Lance is the master of his castle and his predictable life is turned upside down one night by a gravely ill rider. Can Lance save him?
A/N: Brains! The bunnies, they eat at them!
Part One of the Changes 'verse.
*****************
Joseph sagged on his horse’s back, leaned forward and drooped over the horse’s neck. He held on as tightly as he could, though he knew that wasn’t much. In the days since he’d set out on his journey, he’d been beaten, robbed and come down with a fever. It was only because he’d stolen the horse himself that he was riding and not lying in a ditch somewhere. He was only vaguely aware of the change in sound as the horse crossed over a wooden bridge, then distant shouts of people before passing out.
*****************
When Lance awoke, he dressed quickly by the light of the roaring fire that had been lit in the room’s large fireplace. He crossed the chamber where his bed was, stepped into the stairwell and went down. There, it was dark, the steps narrow and he placed his feet carefully so that he wouldn’t fall. As he came into the kitchen, the workers stopped a moment, glanced at him quickly, then went back to their chores.
It was as he was crossing the interior courtyard that he was realized what a commotion there was as people still bustled about. He put his hand out and stopped the nearest person. “What is going on?” he asked in a deep rumble.
The woman dropped a quickly curtsy. “A horseman sir, taken ill and set abed. He’s in the manor house in one of the ground floor rooms,” she explained quickly.
Lance nodded a dismissal and changed direction for the manor house. He didn’t knock, but pushed the heavy wooden door open. Inside, there was a roaring fire, a table covered with dinner that waited for the house’s residents and, on the floor nearer the fire, a pallet bed had been set up. The man that lay upon the pallet was sleeping, but Lance could easily see that his skin was pale with dark circles under his eyes. His breathing was shallow and rattled as he took his breaths.
Lance recognized the look well enough. He’d seen it many times. He knew that if something wasn’t done, this man wasn’t likely to survive the night.
*****************
Back in his own chamber, Lance paced back and forth across the worn wooden floor. Generations of feet, mostly his, had passed over these very boards, had worn them smooth. The fire continued to burn brightly, his bed recently made up with its heavy covers. He knew what would save the man’s life, something he’d vowed long ago that he would never do, but if he didn’t, the man would surely be dead by morning. Could he do it?
Finally, he came to a decision and he quickly left the Keep again, crossed the nearly empty courtyard and entered the manor house. The man still slept on the pallet on the floor and one woman remained in the room with him. She sat in a corner working on embroidery, a lamp burning brightly on a nearby table. She glanced up quickly when the master walked in, nodding in greeting and went back to her stitching.
“Leave us,” Lance said quietly. When the woman looked up in alarm, he added, “Please.”
The woman took a quick glance at her master, nodded once, set her embroidery aside and left the manor house quickly.
After bolting the door behind her, Lance quickly checked the rest of the house to be sure that they were indeed alone in the building. Once he had checked both floors, he went back down the wooden stairs and back to the main room. There, he grabbed a sharp knife from the table and knelt on the floor next to the pallet.
The man’s skin was more pale, his breaths even shallower. Their time was running out. Lance gently nudged the man in an attempt to wake him. “Wake, please,” he commanded. The man on the pallet moaned softly, but didn’t waken.
Lance was faced with a dilemma. When he’d been turned so long ago, it had been against his will and he’d considered it a curse. It hadn’t been a blessing until recently when he’d found his castle run by a very discreet, understanding staff. Life here had been almost tolerable, though a little lonely, in the last few decades. He nudged the man one more time but received the same response. None.
Lance cursed lowly. He’d always vowed he would never do this to someone else. Change them without their consent and yet – if he didn’t, the man would die. He touched the tip of his tongue to the sharpened tip of one of his teeth. Pushed against it until he tasted his own blood, knowing the wound would heal soon enough.
When the man took a deep, rattling breath, it seemed the decision was made for Lance. He took an unnecessary deep breath, willed his canines to drop further and leaned down, sniffing at the man’s neck. The man smelled of outdoors – grass and woods and leaves and fire and Lance wondered where he’d been. He could see, hear, the pulse beating weakly in the man’s throat.
Finally, Lance leaned down, skimmed his teeth along the man’s throat, smelling him, tasting him, taking him in. Lance pressed the tips of his canines to the artery there, pushed and moaned as the man’s blood filled his mouth and he drank greedily. As the man’s blood flowed, Lance did his best to catch it all, not wanting to waste even a drop of the precious liquid. Finally, when he felt the man’s pulse begin to slow, he picked up the knife he’d brought back with him, slit his wrist and winced, then watched as his own blood began to flow.
With his clean arm, he pulled the other man’s head onto his lap, then held his wrist under the other man’s nose, smiling slightly as the whiff of blood caught his attention and he followed it.
“Drink,” Lance commanded softly, sighing as the man did so, greedily drinking from the cut at Lance’s wrist, only stopping when Lance began to feel light headed and pulled his wrist away.
He wiped the back of his hand across his own mouth, then checked the wound, noting that it had nearly healed. Lance knew from his own experience that the man would sleep now and he stood, wiped the blade clean and put it back on the table. He unbolted the door, found the woman outside on a bench and nodded.
“He’ll heal now,” Lance told her.
She stood and nodded knowingly. “You changed him?” she asked her master in a gravelly voice.
“I did. I expect the same discretion as always,” he demanded.
She dropped a quick curtsy. “Of course, sir.”
Once in the courtyard, Lance glanced quickly at the sky and realized that dawn would come soon. He hurried back for the final time that night, entered the Keep, climbed the turnpike stair to the windowless chamber at the top. He knew the man would sleep through until the following evening, knew he would be watched well by the other woman, that she would close the windows, see to his safety as she’d seen to Lance’s for many years. Fatigue began to pull at him as the sun’s rise grew closer and he stripped off his clothing and climbed under the heavy quilts of his bed, eyes quickly closing as he slept for the day.
When he woke again, he knew immediately that he wasn’t alone in the chamber. He listened carefully before opening his eyes, but heard no heartbeat, no pulse. He knew that could only mean one person would be in his chamber. When he opened his eyes, he was please to see he was right. The other man stood beside his bed, staring down at him in confusion. He was nude as well, his body dotted by bruises and scrapes not yet fully healed by the change. Lance forced himself to look up, to meet the man’s steady gaze.
“What did you do to me?” he asked quietly. He held his hands out to his sides in a helpless gesture.
Lance moved the covers on his bed back slowly so that he wouldn’t threaten the other man in any way. These first moments after the change were crucial. They could make or break a changed one, as he’d seen far too many times. “I saved your life,” Lance finally answered as he stood up in front of the other man.
He was magnificent to look at beneath the bruising, Lance noticed with pleasure. His dark hair was cut short, though it had long been out of style, and a neatly trimmed goatee surrounded his mouth and a dark matting of hair covered his chest. His body was well muscled, trim, and Lance wondered what he’d done before, knowing the other man would never be able to go back to it.
The other man walked around Lance, moving his gaze up and down, examining him. “How? What did you do to save my life?” he asked, lightly pressing his fingertips to the scars on his neck where Lance had bitten him. Lance had a matching pair of his own. Other scars and injuries may heal, but these would only fade over time, never going away completely. He finally came to a stop when he was standing back in front of Lance again.
“You know what I did,” Lance whispered. He took a chance, took a small step closer, feeling the last of the man’s body heat as it drained away. He lifted one hand, touched his fingertips to where the other man’s still touched his neck. “You know how I saved you.” Lance took hold of the other man’s hand, stepped back, and sat on the edge of his bed. “You’ll have to stay here, you can’t return to your life again.”
The other man nodded as he sat next to Lance. “It’s safe here?” he asked.
“It is safe, I assure you. I am very careful about who I employ, who lives here within the courtyard. I have only the smallest staff possible and they all know and protect my – our – secret. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, but your life depended on it.”
“What do I have to do?”
Lance laughed lightly. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. Eat. Drink. I have a large library, we have horses that we can race through the countryside at night.” Lance knew what the other man was asking, what he was really worried about. Once, Lance had been where he was and hadn’t been so lucky. Even now, he wanted to touch the other man, skim his hands over the man’s skin as it healed itself and became smooth, but he held back, knowing it would take time until the other man was ready for it.
“And I can stay here? As long as I like?”
Lance smiled. “Yes. As long as you like,” he finally answered, hoping that it would be a long, long time.
~ fini
AUTHOR: Den /
raynedanserRATING: Hard R for Blood and Stuff
Word Count: 1842
SUMMARY: AU - Lance is the master of his castle and his predictable life is turned upside down one night by a gravely ill rider. Can Lance save him?
A/N: Brains! The bunnies, they eat at them!
Part One of the Changes 'verse.
Joseph sagged on his horse’s back, leaned forward and drooped over the horse’s neck. He held on as tightly as he could, though he knew that wasn’t much. In the days since he’d set out on his journey, he’d been beaten, robbed and come down with a fever. It was only because he’d stolen the horse himself that he was riding and not lying in a ditch somewhere. He was only vaguely aware of the change in sound as the horse crossed over a wooden bridge, then distant shouts of people before passing out.
When Lance awoke, he dressed quickly by the light of the roaring fire that had been lit in the room’s large fireplace. He crossed the chamber where his bed was, stepped into the stairwell and went down. There, it was dark, the steps narrow and he placed his feet carefully so that he wouldn’t fall. As he came into the kitchen, the workers stopped a moment, glanced at him quickly, then went back to their chores.
It was as he was crossing the interior courtyard that he was realized what a commotion there was as people still bustled about. He put his hand out and stopped the nearest person. “What is going on?” he asked in a deep rumble.
The woman dropped a quickly curtsy. “A horseman sir, taken ill and set abed. He’s in the manor house in one of the ground floor rooms,” she explained quickly.
Lance nodded a dismissal and changed direction for the manor house. He didn’t knock, but pushed the heavy wooden door open. Inside, there was a roaring fire, a table covered with dinner that waited for the house’s residents and, on the floor nearer the fire, a pallet bed had been set up. The man that lay upon the pallet was sleeping, but Lance could easily see that his skin was pale with dark circles under his eyes. His breathing was shallow and rattled as he took his breaths.
Lance recognized the look well enough. He’d seen it many times. He knew that if something wasn’t done, this man wasn’t likely to survive the night.
Back in his own chamber, Lance paced back and forth across the worn wooden floor. Generations of feet, mostly his, had passed over these very boards, had worn them smooth. The fire continued to burn brightly, his bed recently made up with its heavy covers. He knew what would save the man’s life, something he’d vowed long ago that he would never do, but if he didn’t, the man would surely be dead by morning. Could he do it?
Finally, he came to a decision and he quickly left the Keep again, crossed the nearly empty courtyard and entered the manor house. The man still slept on the pallet on the floor and one woman remained in the room with him. She sat in a corner working on embroidery, a lamp burning brightly on a nearby table. She glanced up quickly when the master walked in, nodding in greeting and went back to her stitching.
“Leave us,” Lance said quietly. When the woman looked up in alarm, he added, “Please.”
The woman took a quick glance at her master, nodded once, set her embroidery aside and left the manor house quickly.
After bolting the door behind her, Lance quickly checked the rest of the house to be sure that they were indeed alone in the building. Once he had checked both floors, he went back down the wooden stairs and back to the main room. There, he grabbed a sharp knife from the table and knelt on the floor next to the pallet.
The man’s skin was more pale, his breaths even shallower. Their time was running out. Lance gently nudged the man in an attempt to wake him. “Wake, please,” he commanded. The man on the pallet moaned softly, but didn’t waken.
Lance was faced with a dilemma. When he’d been turned so long ago, it had been against his will and he’d considered it a curse. It hadn’t been a blessing until recently when he’d found his castle run by a very discreet, understanding staff. Life here had been almost tolerable, though a little lonely, in the last few decades. He nudged the man one more time but received the same response. None.
Lance cursed lowly. He’d always vowed he would never do this to someone else. Change them without their consent and yet – if he didn’t, the man would die. He touched the tip of his tongue to the sharpened tip of one of his teeth. Pushed against it until he tasted his own blood, knowing the wound would heal soon enough.
When the man took a deep, rattling breath, it seemed the decision was made for Lance. He took an unnecessary deep breath, willed his canines to drop further and leaned down, sniffing at the man’s neck. The man smelled of outdoors – grass and woods and leaves and fire and Lance wondered where he’d been. He could see, hear, the pulse beating weakly in the man’s throat.
Finally, Lance leaned down, skimmed his teeth along the man’s throat, smelling him, tasting him, taking him in. Lance pressed the tips of his canines to the artery there, pushed and moaned as the man’s blood filled his mouth and he drank greedily. As the man’s blood flowed, Lance did his best to catch it all, not wanting to waste even a drop of the precious liquid. Finally, when he felt the man’s pulse begin to slow, he picked up the knife he’d brought back with him, slit his wrist and winced, then watched as his own blood began to flow.
With his clean arm, he pulled the other man’s head onto his lap, then held his wrist under the other man’s nose, smiling slightly as the whiff of blood caught his attention and he followed it.
“Drink,” Lance commanded softly, sighing as the man did so, greedily drinking from the cut at Lance’s wrist, only stopping when Lance began to feel light headed and pulled his wrist away.
He wiped the back of his hand across his own mouth, then checked the wound, noting that it had nearly healed. Lance knew from his own experience that the man would sleep now and he stood, wiped the blade clean and put it back on the table. He unbolted the door, found the woman outside on a bench and nodded.
“He’ll heal now,” Lance told her.
She stood and nodded knowingly. “You changed him?” she asked her master in a gravelly voice.
“I did. I expect the same discretion as always,” he demanded.
She dropped a quick curtsy. “Of course, sir.”
Once in the courtyard, Lance glanced quickly at the sky and realized that dawn would come soon. He hurried back for the final time that night, entered the Keep, climbed the turnpike stair to the windowless chamber at the top. He knew the man would sleep through until the following evening, knew he would be watched well by the other woman, that she would close the windows, see to his safety as she’d seen to Lance’s for many years. Fatigue began to pull at him as the sun’s rise grew closer and he stripped off his clothing and climbed under the heavy quilts of his bed, eyes quickly closing as he slept for the day.
When he woke again, he knew immediately that he wasn’t alone in the chamber. He listened carefully before opening his eyes, but heard no heartbeat, no pulse. He knew that could only mean one person would be in his chamber. When he opened his eyes, he was please to see he was right. The other man stood beside his bed, staring down at him in confusion. He was nude as well, his body dotted by bruises and scrapes not yet fully healed by the change. Lance forced himself to look up, to meet the man’s steady gaze.
“What did you do to me?” he asked quietly. He held his hands out to his sides in a helpless gesture.
Lance moved the covers on his bed back slowly so that he wouldn’t threaten the other man in any way. These first moments after the change were crucial. They could make or break a changed one, as he’d seen far too many times. “I saved your life,” Lance finally answered as he stood up in front of the other man.
He was magnificent to look at beneath the bruising, Lance noticed with pleasure. His dark hair was cut short, though it had long been out of style, and a neatly trimmed goatee surrounded his mouth and a dark matting of hair covered his chest. His body was well muscled, trim, and Lance wondered what he’d done before, knowing the other man would never be able to go back to it.
The other man walked around Lance, moving his gaze up and down, examining him. “How? What did you do to save my life?” he asked, lightly pressing his fingertips to the scars on his neck where Lance had bitten him. Lance had a matching pair of his own. Other scars and injuries may heal, but these would only fade over time, never going away completely. He finally came to a stop when he was standing back in front of Lance again.
“You know what I did,” Lance whispered. He took a chance, took a small step closer, feeling the last of the man’s body heat as it drained away. He lifted one hand, touched his fingertips to where the other man’s still touched his neck. “You know how I saved you.” Lance took hold of the other man’s hand, stepped back, and sat on the edge of his bed. “You’ll have to stay here, you can’t return to your life again.”
The other man nodded as he sat next to Lance. “It’s safe here?” he asked.
“It is safe, I assure you. I am very careful about who I employ, who lives here within the courtyard. I have only the smallest staff possible and they all know and protect my – our – secret. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, but your life depended on it.”
“What do I have to do?”
Lance laughed lightly. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. Eat. Drink. I have a large library, we have horses that we can race through the countryside at night.” Lance knew what the other man was asking, what he was really worried about. Once, Lance had been where he was and hadn’t been so lucky. Even now, he wanted to touch the other man, skim his hands over the man’s skin as it healed itself and became smooth, but he held back, knowing it would take time until the other man was ready for it.
“And I can stay here? As long as I like?”
Lance smiled. “Yes. As long as you like,” he finally answered, hoping that it would be a long, long time.
~ fini
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 02:55 pm (UTC)*waits*
Well?
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 03:22 pm (UTC)and i totally didn't get the connection of joseph/joey... um yeah, i'm slow.
MORE!
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Date: 2008-11-02 05:24 pm (UTC)Probably after Christmas and New Year's so I can finish Bitty bang and everything else on my plate! :D
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 06:06 pm (UTC)*g*
Awesome premise. I'm really glad you decided to keep this and add to it. I think it's going to be an interesting 'verse.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 09:47 pm (UTC)I'm not going to be around much for the next week but I'm intrigued by your SeSa. What pairing did you end up getting? Sounds like you were pleased.
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Date: 2008-11-02 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-04 01:02 am (UTC)I can't wait to read more of this!
no subject
Date: 2008-11-04 05:17 am (UTC)"It was as he was crossing the interior courtyard that he was realized what..."
Take the 3rd was out.
"The woman dropped a quickly curtsy."
Quick.
"on the floor nearer the fire,"
I think near sounds better but that's just my opinion.
"he was please to"
Pleased ;)
I really like it but Stephenie Meyers runined the classic vampire for me. I can never look at them the same. Damn her! But I really like the story and wished there was more lol. You torture me so.