A Life Not Spent With You Ch. 02
Gin and tonic was the best he could do at the moment; the drink burned its way down his throat, snapping him to attention momentarily before a pleasant numbness would take over. Letting his breath out in a quiet sigh, Marcel inhaled deeply, praying that the lack of sensation would free him from the coiling guilt at how much trouble he had caused the night before.
"He didn't try to kill himself or anything, Damien would never." Jumping at the first words the older wolf man spoke in over half an hour, the enforcer sneaked a glance at the broad-chested, intimidating figure who sat in one of his stools propped up against his kitchen counter table. Aware of how strongly this Ivan could convey his emotions, frightened of it too, Marcel looked away, palms sweating and unsuredly, a tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips. Do I say anything in return to that? Does he- "He's narcoleptic, he probably hit his head on the way down." There was no amusement in the other's voice, only a statement spoken with that certain foreign lilt that reminded Marcel strongly of childhood neighbors and of older days.
"...That, explains why I found him on the floor..." Trailing off, daring to meet the other's still steely gaze for but a second, he took his hands from the counter edge, stretching his arms and legs before leaning back, as if he could sink into the kitchen fixtures and disappear, hide away from here. A nearly tangible silence settled between them once more until he found the nerve to speak.
"I'm truly sorry for what I did last-"
"I don't forgive you." Snarling subtly, Ivan glared at the other wolf, baring his teeth for the single moment their gazes met. "You raped my lover, jaded his view on any kind of relationship, and will be the cause of months of nightmares. This is not the first time its happened to him, the only difference in this case is that he isn't in a coma right now that will last a near year!" His quick eyes saw those minutely trembling lips begin to move in a probable phrase of sympathy - not wanting to hear it given so flippantly for the sake of hearing such a story, Ivan stalked from the kitchen, intent on visiting the bedroom where Damien was resting.
That son of a bitch... Scowling furiously at blue carpet, he let his stomping gradually decrease, not wanting to disturb his puppy's sleep. A glance down the hall from which he tip-toed down confirmed that he was alone. Resting his cheek against the door, he heard the rustling of sheets, a wavering voice that begged for mercy. It's already started... Leaning his forehead against the wood, Ivan clenched his hands into fists, anger boiling within his soul. A terrible wrong had been made, and given the chance, the wolf would've done anything to rewind the last twenty-four hours. Undo the events that led his lover to cry out while he slept, bear such horrible wounds that marred the younger's beauty.
"No matter what, dearest, you'll always be beautiful to me..." Whispering softly, he leaned over the bed, the back of his hand caressing a bruised, tear-streaked cheek. It had taken so much courage to enter the room after Damien's heart-wrenching pleas for him to leave. To have the one he loved so much beg for him to avert his eyes, to expect him to turn his face away in shame and disgrace. Removing himself from the younger's side for but a moment, Ivan pulled a chair from the corner of the spare bedroom and placed it by the bed. The smallest of sounds made Damien stir with a whimper, instinctively curling into a ball on his side. With a rapidly softening brow and moistening eyes, Ivan placed a hand on a slim shoulder and patted gently, shushing under his breath.
"This is not your fault, Damien, no..." Darkened lids from lack of sleep faltered, his gaze dropping to the thin sheets that covered his lover, "It was my fault. I took too long, you were waiting for me at our meeting place..." Easing his hand into the puppy's hand, mottled with cuts and wounds, Ivan held it so carefully, raising it to his lips at times to press kisses between his rambling that would hopefully ease whatever nightmare Damien experienced while he slept.
"You're a heartless bastard, did you know that, Marcel?" The alcohol he had downed earlier numbed his senses, his mind, so the fist he barely sensed before it met his cheekbone. Staggering away from his attacker, Marcel forced his vision to focus rather than stare and allow everything to blend into a color wheel. Glaring faces separated from looks of envy, of sadness and pouts. Most of the pack were here at the hidden cabin of the forest not half an hour from his home and town; they abandoned their usual conversations and stared down at him. Blinking wearily, Marcel held his temples,
"Lucien, I am pretty a heartless bastar--d, I concur..." Drawing out words, he rose a hand to gingerly touch the new bruise rapidly growing on his right cheek. With a brave attempt to laugh everything off, Marcel gave a faint grin and started for the deck stairs, stopped by the third in command of their pack.
"Drinking again! Fuck, that's what got you in this mess in the first place! You made the twins cry! I was up all night calming them down, telling that everything will be alright. You really had to fuck Damien, didn't you?" A fist rose once more, and with a wince, Marcel managed to throw an arm to block the blow that aborted itself in seconds. "I know what happened to Marie must have been hard," Lucien's voice, normally low and rough for anyone but the only twins of the pack, was almost sympathetic, the emotion not lost on Marcel's foggy mind. "But to take out whatever feelings on a pup like Damien..."
"M-Marie? Why, what happened to her?" A huge amount of willpower forced the alochol affects away which left him looking around with increasing worry as faces turned away, not meeting his desperate gaze. A cold pit of fear grew in his stomach, "Where is she? Is she hurt?"
"Gods, he doesn't remember..." A female wolf whispered quietly, sitting on a deck chair with her little one in her lap.
"Where the fuck is M-Marie? What-" His threatening growl was silenced, an older wolf with one blind eye stepping infront of Lucien, blocking him from Marcel's raised fist.
"She was killed by the neighboring clan, Marcel! That vile human drink has poisoned your mind, you were told this yesterday evening." The forest floor came into view, Marcel falling to his knees in shock. "What had been mere scuffles over territory has now turned to war. It is said that Marie gave them no reason to harm her, she wasn't even trespassing their boundaries. I am sorry to have to tell you this twice."
"We're having her burial at sundown."
Trembling, he held onto Ivan's arm, his dulled brown orbs darting back and forth as they approached the cabin. Other wolves tapped their neighbors on their shoulders, gesturing towards him and Ivan, a few venturing forth towards them. With the tiniest of whimpers, he pressed himself into his older lover's side, wanting nothing more than to disappear than be examined by those judging eyes.
"Out and about already, Damien..." Jessibel, mother to the twins Morokai and Nicolai, came forward in her slow walk. Her kind face, softer than ever, still scared him as did her hand, reaching out to touch some part of him; unable to stop himself, he whimpered pleadingly. She withdrew, giving a quiet apology,
"I'm glad to see you're healing quickly. If you'd like, I'll gladly find some herbs or medicines to ease any discomfort, Damien." Nodding, not wanting to reply to the pack's healer, he tugged Ivan's arm and their progress to reach the cabin continued.
"Hey, nice run last night!"
"Yeah, I wish I was Marcel!"
The laughing and guffawing stopped after one stare from Ivan, the whole hidden glen fell silent. Wrapping an arm around Damien's shoulders, he tugged him close, leaning quickly to press a kiss behind his ear before hurrying them up the stairs and entered the cabin. If killing other pack members wasn't a crime, by the Gods... Growling low in his chest, he shut the door behind him, his eyes already searching in the darkness for a hint where the elders were. Arms wrapped around him, holding him tight - the bouquet of roses Damien held in a hand fell to the floor. Within seconds, his t-shirt became damp from the younger's tears.
"Ivan, Ivan, did you see w-what was in their eyes? D-did you hear what Gabriel said? What Katrina said?" The frantic note in the younger's raspy voice touched his heart for the worst for a familiar stinging began in Ivan's eyes and without hesitation, he returned the embrace just as desperatly and tightly.
"Shhh, shhh...I saw and heard both, but most of the others were pained for what happened to you, sweetheart. Just the usual idiots were, weren't..." Swaying them back and forth, he rested his cheek atop Damien's head, "Now don't you start asking again...I'm not angry with you, dearest, or disgusted or ashamed. I'm only hurt, because you're hurt, baby. So don't you worry, I'm not going to leave you, I'm not going to turn away and laugh at you like them, so let's be on our way." Bending, he picked up the bouquet of roses, his face turning in a merest hint of disdain before he returned the wrapped gift in the crook of Damien's arm. Unable to say anything else, he intertwined his fingers with the other's free hand, gently guiding him down the hallway.
"Tonight is not the time to play hide-and-seek, please have a seat. I expect this is about the events of last night."
"Last night and this morning..." Sitting down stiffly, he would've remained so if his lover hadn't snuggled into his side once more, clinging onto him. "As you are aware, Marcel won last nights ritual, but-"
"He was intoxicated? Yes, Marcel was in here earlier this afternoon, asking if there was anything that could break the bond he formed with Damien here." A flicker of surprise crossed Ivan's face before it faded,
"And? Is there anything that can be done? Any sort of process to keep him and Damien from being lifemates?"
"There is nothing to erase what has been done, we are sorry, Ivan, Damien. However, we understand that you and Damien were hopeful to become true mates. Now, Damien is already claimed, to hold another run would be pointless, but another ritual can-"
"Are you suggesting that I mark Damien as well, share him with that raping bastard?"
"Yes, if you wish to go any further in your relationship with this young one here."
The howls and cries comforted his wavering heart, a cool calmness flooding over him momentarily. It was terrible to lose a pack member and such a strong fighter as well. At Ivan's side once more, hand holding the older's calloused one, Damien barely raised his voice when the pack members continued to voice their mourning; not to be disrespectful but because his throat hurt much from the night before. It was tradition to not shift into their wolf forms during a burial so many showed their grief with sombre dark clothing. Marie was to be put to rest at the base of a lovely weeping willow, shadowed by great oaks and elms, enhanced by the beauty of a nearby pond.
And a man who was not at the front to view the service but behind them, stood alone, separated from the pack. Damien noticed this with a shiver of fear coursing through his body, telling Ivan that he was merely cold when questioned for the movement. It was the same man who's hands had touched him everywhere, that were at this moment hiding a face, probably concealing tears. It was the same man who's voice had called him filth and worthless the night before, that was now raised in a final cry of farewell. It was him. Turning away, Damien gripped at his lover's hand, praying for strength.
It did not take long to find Marcel - all he had to do was follow the scent of alcohol and salt. Frowning in dislike, he gestured up at the figure outlined against the rising moon, sitting up the small crest by a large oak tree. Fingers squeezed around his, a timid request in those shining brown eyes; with a single nod, given with reluctance, not wanting to be civil towards the enforcer, Ivan led them up the hill.
He had heard them approach, could tell who it was with a small sniff to the air, and still did not turn to face them. Staring at the moon, Marcel limply held up a hand, shaking a half-empty bottle.
"Don' worry, I won't freak out...I've had some already, I'm real calm..." Vaguely, he sensed that Ivan wolf's immediate anger, but beyond caring, he slurred on,
"What do'ya want?"
A lovely bouquet of roses was pushed onto his lap, the young one scurrying around him quickly again, latching onto Ivan's arm. The beautiful red flowers sparked a sadness within him as well as annoyance,
"I-I noticed, in your garden, you have many roses...I thought you might like them, a-and maybe-"
"Marie liked the ro--ses...I don't care for them anymore." Tossing the gift aside, he tipped back and took another swig, done talking forever, if possible. The sound of crying met his ears.
"Oh, baby, don't waste your tears on this." Supporting the younger one, who had swayed dangerously on the spot and then burst into tears, Ivan glared in hatred at Marcel. To even imagine sharing his beloved Damien with such a lowlife... Gathering his lover in his arms, he kissed away the tears, pleased to be allowed to do so and took Damien home with him for the night.
He swallowed down that tightening feeling, warning him of oncoming tears. He couldn't cry, not now while his Damien bared so much at this very moment. With shaking hands, he moved the black blindfold into place, hiding those gentle cinnamon eyes that held so trust it nearly hurt. Damien's first had been terrible, painful, and never truly left the younger's mind. Sometimes Damien trembled at a hand sweeping across his cheek, at an embrace, or a certain word. And now he lets his mind see...Without actually seeing... Tucking the strip of fabric over his puppy's ears, Ivan knelt closer, dipping low his head, capturing pearly pink lips in a giving kiss. His fingers tied the blindfold knot slowly, careful not to catch any of the other's long locks; with a soft chuckle, he parted their sweet kiss, untucking a few strands of hair free,
"Because you like to have bangs so much..."
Smiling faintly, Damien shivered, a hand wrapping around his side, massaging before drawing him closer. A fluttering began in his chest before it faded with another tender kiss; fear remained dormant for now. Kneeling before his lover, he tried to not fall limp in Ivan's arms, every sensation so close to making him faint. He saw blackness, allowing him to imagine every little detail, constantly giving him the chance to compare. Tears gathered under the blindfold, his parted mouth leaving Ivan's lips with a gasp. Fingers tugged down the zipper on the front of his shirt, slow, giving him time to recover.
"Ivan..." He whispered the name, reminding himself who it was that touched him. It could've been his first, Marcel. Biting his lip, he arched forwards, drawing his back his shoulders, allowing Ivan to ease off his top. Lips met his, making their way down to his neck, nipping gently here and there.
"Shhh...I don't mind, sweetheart..." He held the other's shoulders, thumbs stroking gently to ease the trembling as he brushed his lips against the healing bitemark, the claim bite. It was a lie - he minded so much it defied words - but it was best to leave it to a lie. Damien always feared disappointment, and had always expected to earn it, even more so from the night before. No doubt... His lover still hadn't reacted aside from gasps and the pressing forward; he sought for Damien's outstretched arms, freeing them from the aborted try to embrace, and guided them to hold his sides.
"You can touch me, it'll help you remember it's me here with you. Sweetheart, we take off the blindfold anytime, just say it and I'll take it off..." The blindfold wasn't a good idea, Ivan thought, it wouldn't allow his lover to connect memories and reality - maybe that was the point. But it was Damien's request, his choice, something he never had with bedmates before. A grateful thank you was his answer, nothing else. Running his hands over the younger's torso, Ivan reached around, fingertips tracing the fine line of Damien's spine, kissing towards a lightly panting mouth.
Hands ran down his sides, pushing aside his shirt, caressing his smooth stomach. Catching his breath, the younger nearly sat up, aborted the attempt and tried to not imagine it was another. It was so hard not to, last night, earlier that morning still fresh in his mind. The button to his jeans was being freed slowly, a shushing sound reaching his ears. Panic started within him, the horrible sound of his heartbeat grew louder, nearly blocking out the-
"-don't struggle soo much, sure are feisty, aren'tcha?" A palm was forced over his mouth, keeping him from screaming. He still screamed, crying from the intensity. Everywhere hurt, things being crushed, torn, bruised. The bed was shaking, squeaking horribly...
"I-Ivan?" Thin and high, Damien tried to sit up; Ivan paused, pressing his lips onto the younger's stomach,
"Yes, baby?" Voice quiet, sure that anything louder would frighten his lover, especially at a time like this, he let his accent be more noticeable, hoping it'd help his lover remember it was him here in the room. Hesitant green eyes looked up to Damien's face, watching the way the younger nibbled at his lower lip, opening his mouth then closing it, repeating the action as if unsure he should speak. Growing uneasy, he righted himself - before he had been kneeling over the other - and brushed the back of his hand against a bruised cheek.
"Damien, are you alright?"
He nodded, mumuring an apology. Ivan. It was Ivan here. It was Ivan's voice, his thick accent calming and relaxing him - believing it so much, Damien almost felt that way. Hiding the shaking of his hands, he guided Ivan's to take hold of his sides, patting them a few times before he let them fall against the bed.
-that was stained, bloody and dirtied. Just like the sock stuffed into his mouth, nearly choking him.
Fisting them into the clean, neat sheets, Damien lowered himself onto the bed, feeling Ivan shush him quietly, pressing him gently down, resuming his loveplay. A spark of warmth, tiny, began to grow. Times like this always touched him to the point of tears, Ivan being so loving with him. He stifled a sob, at the way his zipper was parting, and also at the fact that he and Ivan had a few spontaneous loveplay sessions. Without the gentleness, without the sweet words. Just a sudden desire and want to be fill and be filled. Raw passion. A-and now back to this... Constant reassurances, slow paces, needs he had to have even with a kiss. Ivan would surely grow tired, bored with this stupid problem of his; one could only put up with so much.
He gasped, nearly sitting up again at the way Ivan started to tug down his jeans. His older lover told it him was alright, and hands completely left him. Fear gripped at him - did Ivan not want to bother with this much trouble?
"Here, it's only fair," That british accent abandoned the usual proper tone he'd always hear on english shows with a light chuckle that was only Ivan's. A hand took his, and set it on a bare shoulder; had Ivan taken his shirt off? Thank the Gods... He thanked Ivan too, it was almost as if the other knew what would help him stay in the present. His rapists, he felt his heart leap in his throat at the word, both of them had kept their shirts on for a time. Marcel hadn't after the fifth time of dragging him into "action". Having laid back down again, he stared up at where he knew the ceiling would be; he looked up at the ceiling too a few times, no where else to look, not wanting to look at a face he knew or saw before.