Log: Complete

[dark-butler.livejournal.com]

When: Backdated, April 30
Rating: NC-17 for blood and sex and bloody sex
Characters: Walter Dornez, dark_butler and Xulchilbara, revelations9x6
Summary: Xulchilbara finally has an opportunity to appraise his new tool.
Log:

Walter had been back to the library since spending time there speaking to Henry. He'd found a copy of Moon and Sixpence and had taken it back to the room he'd claimed in the basement. He sat in the one piece of furniture in the room other than his coffin, a straight-backed chair, and tried to remember what it had been like when he had so enjoyed this book so long ago.

Shadows moved along the walls of Walter's rooms.

A simple trick of the light?...Perhaps...It was a common occurrence here in the house that darkness built.

But when they stilled once again, a lean, youngish man with hair the color of a raven's wing, and eyes that should not have been human....(could not belong to a human) sat at ease in one of the chairs not far from Walter.

They eyed Walter in consideration; sized him up.
Then He broke into a smile that could have been meant to look genial, but generally came off as unsettling paired with those wrong eyes.
He sat with one ankle hooked over the knee of the opposite leg, hands calmly folded in his lap.

Ironic, the turn of events that had put Walter into His service, considering Xulchilbara had been all but unaware until Walter had downed the vial of His blood.
Ironic that in losing His most valued servant, His avatar, He had gained a servant with great potential.....yet the God-turned-mortal had not quite known what to do with His new Angel of Death.
Ironic even more, that Walter's fractured mind displayed no emotion, or imperfect emotion, while Xulchilbara felt only a limited range of them, and thus was fascinated by the range of reactions that humans displayed around Him.

Tentatively He allowed the strangle-hold He kept over his chaotic essence to loosen fractionally, and seek out the bond between Himself and the broken mind before Him, like a curious probing of a fresh wound.

To some the presence of the Red God registered as a dull throb...perhaps a pleasing sensation, perhaps not..as with all things related to Xulchilbara, the line between pleasure and pain was often indeterminate.
To others it registered as a headache; a strange buzzing in the mind of many hundreds of voices speaking in tongues....or perhaps not even that easily described.

Curiously, He watched Walter with eyes that emitted only a dim reddish-tinted glow.

"What am I to do with you, Angel..." He commented rhetorically.

Walter set the book aside and rose. One would not stay seated in the presence of the Queen, one certainly would not remain seated in the presence of a god.

His expression gave away little - a tightening around his eyes as the chaos that had drowned him in the first days after tasting Xulchilbara's blood played at the edges of his mind. He'd practically been raised dancing along the line between pleasure and pain, with Alucard as his lover from such an early age. Apparently it had been preparing him for this.

He remembered everything - being human and Hellsing's, being Millennium's vampire, being on his own and being broken, healing, and then breaking himself again, this time with no one to blame but himself. After the transcendently painful experience of Xulchilbara's chaos, he felt like a hollow man. Rattling around inside that hollow shell was the remnant of who he'd once been. That remnant still wanted to fight this, but had enough sense of self-preservation left to know that now was not the time. Instead he hid, healed, waited.

The man who respectfully answered Xulchilbara was barely aware of the remnant's existence. "You will do whatever you choose, of course."

The God waved His hand idly for Walter to sit. There were times when formality was appropriate, and times when not.

" 'Choice' is what put us both in this rather odd situation." He commented, the fatigue of dealing with His most recent domestic problems creeping into the edges of His human voice.
A slow burn of contemplation swirled through His burning eyes as He felt along the connection between Himself, and the enigmatic vampire before Him. A useful tool.....if only He could strengthen that connection.

" You have had many masters, haven't you?" The God asked, semi-rhetorically. " Tell me, Walter, how many of them have you served out of choice?"

"I served the Hellsing family willingly," Walter answered without difficulty. "I served England through my service to them." He didn't try to lie to himself or to Xulchilbara that he served the god through choice. The fact of the matter was that he had no choice in serving Xulchilbara. Not because the god forced it, but because he could not imagine doing otherwise at this time.

Humans were both too easily understood in their secret wants, and their surprising capability for greater acts of selfless nobility than even the gods could fathom on occasion.
Walter was one such. A man who reluctantly became a vampire, and now served the very being he had vowed to destroy.
It made for delicious irony, but also a liability. After all....if Walter could break Millennium's control, there was the chance that he could also break Xulchilbara's.

And so, before he could be put to work, Xulchilbara intended to put certain insurances in place.

Lights danced in those wrong eyes, as He seemed to be considering the possibilities, or possible drawbacks to taking such an unstable weapon into His confidence....

....But the light flared once, then died away to leave His eyes a solid black; pupil, iris, and white all bleeding into each other until none were discernible.

ComE HeRe..... Xulchilbara 'said', raising one pale hand to Walter, the scathing sound heard only with the mind as His mouth did not move.

No questions asked, Walter rose from his seat to stand in front of Xulchilbara.

The God took Walter's hand, coaxed him to kneel, and brought His opposing hand up to cup Walter's cheek in an almost tender gesture.

The angel at His feet had spent enough time amidst the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that the wave that came from relaxing the hold Xulchilbara kept over His essence less disorienting than to most, but as Walter himself had so eloquently put it; there was a great deal of difference between being touched by a God, and merely the godlike.

Do yOu EvEn kNoW WhAt PlEaSuRE iS AnYmOrE, înGeR? He asked, the pain of communication offset by the caress of His fingers.

"Yes," answered the hollow man. There was pleasure to be had in doing his god's will. There was pleasure to be had in the absence of pain. There was even pleasure to be had in the
presence of pain, if it was Xulchilbara's will. Walter's world had resolved down into something very simple - what the god wanted, and what he did not.

And if somewhere inside the hollow, a protest echoed from who Walter had once been, it was silenced in the white noise of Xulchilbara's mental presence.

A momentary pain at the similarity between this Hollow Man, and His lost avatar.....
Perhaps it was this sense of grief over His most trusted servant, or perhaps a quirk of mortality? Whatever the reason, Xulchilbara could not bring Himself to further shatter the few pieces of 'Walter' that remained.

To receive the Mark of the Red God was....intense, there was no denying that, but instead of ripping apart the precarious pieces that Walter had managed to pull together in a semblance of personality, the God's eyes softened from the hard coldness of gemstones. A slow shift from the absence of color to a lush, deep crimson, while both hands smoothed the fallen angel's hair from his face.

Caught between hands that matched the vampire in pale complexion, yet gave off enough heat to infuse a measure of that warmth into the flesh beneath them, the God leaned forward out of His seat, and first lightly brushed His unlikely servant's lips with His own.

He made no mental comparison between this moment and others in his past. In many ways, there was no comparison. Walter knelt in front of Xulchilbara, a picture of wordless patience and acceptance of whatever it was the god intended.

The caressing touch of fingers tightened, and tightened until Xulchilbara's thumbs dug into the soft flesh under the jaw. Were Walter still human, such a grip would have likely cracked his mandible bone cleanly off. As it was, the pressure was probably painful, but intended only to restrain the Hollow Man, as the God's mouth fed at his.

A press of tongue, and press of mind. A probing connection that had, up to this point, hinted at a dark madness that now penetrated the other man's and seemed to spread outward.
A Stygian wave of thought-made-solid invaded, scathed, took the half formed pieces and rejoined them in a familiar pattern.
Raw chaos, horror unleashed; a true taste of the touch of a God.
The fire of rebirth hones into the point of lips to tongue, to teeth, to the first wash of blood as Xulchilbara intentionally cut His lip on Walter's fangs.

In this madness there lay a tiny speck of sanity, a core of calm...of stillness.
In blood and darkness we are born, in blood and darkness we die; and here again was Walter reshaped yet again. The fingerprints of those who had gone before still lingered on his soul, but the Red God left the deepest impression, for this mind was soft in places; fragile.

Everything that had come before, everything that had been his existence up until now still remained, but as some events one is witness to, there are others that happen to a person.

This was one such moment.

The touch both froze and burned; caused searing pain, then left unadulterated ecstasy in its wake.
A mark, or brand flared, and etched itself beneath that frozen fire of touch. Two matched sigils lit like fire beneath the skin at the nape of Walter's neck, and the smooth skin of His throat.
A collar of Walter's own making, and a chain of choice that formed, and burned along with the ravaging invasive kiss.

Body and mind are not always in agreement. Such was the case here. Walter would have stayed still under the ravages of Xulchilbara's touch; would have stayed still and taken anything, up to and including total immolation. His body, ruled by a previously well-honed survival instinct, thrashed in Xulchilbara's grip until that first taste of blood. Survival was pushed aside by another instinct. There was pain? A vampire's instinct said, take blood and heal.

In the midst of the surpassing, eternal agony, unaware that he even moved, Walter rose on his knees to seek every last drop of blood that the god would share with him. That long vampire's tongue dragged across Xulchilbara's lip, coaxing a taste and then another. His whole body shuddered as the god's blood spread heat through him.

And behind the anguish, exaltation. Healing can be agonizing, ask any convalescent, but worth it.

Worth the pain. Worth the bloody tears on his face. Worth the breaking and unbreaking and shattered metamorphosis. Worth it to feel something like whole again, even if changed.

Worth it to feel.

Walter rising to his knees pushed Xulchilbara back a bit, but it also brought the two of them into a near embrace.

The God laughed softly into the kiss, and opened His eyes to slits.

His hands glided across Walter's arms, and followed them down to curl around the vampire's wrists.
The God's grip was rather gentle, but still as unbreakable as steel shackles.
He stood, then, and likewise drew Walter to his feet, then coaxed him to turn around so that Walter's back now pressed to Xulchilbara's chest.

The shackled hands released Walter's wrists to skim back to his shoulders, and draw the waistcoat off.
It fell, forgotten, to the floor beyond them, and that cool burn of touch returned to the younger man's waist and drew him back against the God's chest, His mouth found Walter's neck and mouthed his pulse point with a light shiver; A light brush of teeth across it in self-torture.
So easy to break the skin and free that beating connection to his life...to bathe in the slick, sweet heat of his blood.

Another fan of heated breath against Walter's neck, and the God's hands brushed across his chest until they met again over his tie.
Dexterous fingers made short work of the length of silky fabric. It joined the discarded suit jacket.
The God's mouth resumed kissing, nipping and licking as he followed the line of the vampire's neck to the soft skin where neck met shoulder.
A pause as sharp teeth grazed the tender skin lightly, and followed the bite with the corrosive heat of his tongue.
Pale hands glided across Walter's shoulders, to his back, and left burning trails in their wake as they alighted first on his slender hips.
A light push of the God's own hips against Walter, and those hands resumed traveling back to the vampire's chest, and one by one , undid the buttons on his shirt.

There was a moment's silence as the God leaned forward to look down over Walter's shoulder, thus pressing Himself from chest to hip against the vampire's back. His eyes on the pale skin before him, measuring, assessing the long line of Walter's torso

One hand found Walter's jaw and turned him in order to kiss fiercely, possessively, while the other moved from being splayed across Walter's stomach, pressing him back against the God's arousal, upwards so that the blade like nail of His thumb could open His wrist in a line following the vein.
A breath, and He drew away from that kiss to offer Walter the blood that trailed in thick crimson tears off His pale arm.

If Walter had to breathe other than to speak, he would be panting. The heat.... He had craved heat like that since he had woken in Millennium's control, his humanity gone. And now, held in Xulchilbara's grasp, the almost painful fire of his embrace was just what Walter had been seeking.

His hands came up to grasp the Red God's wrist in a hold that no human could break and caught the blood on his tongue before it could be wasted falling to the floor. What words could there be for this? No communion so immediate, no grace so real as this experience. His body yielded backward against Xulchilbara's while he let himself be rolled under the tide of blood and heat and pain and pleasure and surrender.

A sound like the grinding squeal of metal-on-stone echoed across His mind, and through the fresh brand into Walter's as well. Somewhere in its depths could be what could concievably have been laughter.
A shift in his stance followed it, and the God pushed Walter's knee from behind to force him to the floor.
Pushed by Xulchilbara's slightly greater height and weight, the two of them landed on hands and knees, one above and behind the other still.

At some point during the fall, His hand had moved from Walter's abdomen, to hold his hip, and add its strength to the task of forcing Walter to the floor.
Xulchilbara pushed him down, while simultaneously using force to coax Walter's hips up.

A low growl was the only warning given before those sharpened teeth closed on the back of Walter's neck; cuffing him, and holding him as any alpha would do to a subservient.
Only, the bite did not stop with a hint of pressure to break the skin, it intensified to break skin, and imbed in the muscle beneath.
A deep, almost mechanical groan at the hot burst of blood across his tongue, and the Red God was done with foreplay.

Razor edged nails, and inhuman strength tore the last remnants of Walter's clothes away, and after a bare moment of dealing with His own clothing, His own painfully aroused body pressed against Walter.
The corrosive burn of his touch amplified by the fraying loss of control over his essence only added to the bloodlust, the haze of want.

Want for the pain,the begging, the bone and pink strings of sinew. Want to rip this lesser animal open and roll in the heat within. To lick and taste the thick ropes of muscle that strained both toward and away from the monster on his back. Want for the arterial spray, the saliva, and cum.

Walter held singlemindedly to Xulchilbara's wrist like an anchor as he went to his knees and made a sound that was a mixture of pained protest and growl when the god drew away to tear away their clothes. It wasn't necessary to think; it was hardly possible to think under the onslaught of sensation, pain, pleasure, desire, and a heat that spread from his stomach through his body as the Red God's blood was absorbed into him.

He'd wanted warmth, and he had it. More than the heat stolen from a human, something that touched the cold core of his being for the first time since since his world went up in flames.

The teeth, the tearing, the agony were the price of admission that he would have paid without a second thought. The rock and raise of his hips against Xulchilbara's just another sign of that.

The razor nails that were biting into Walter's hip left cuts in their wake in an almost loving caress. They came away coated with the crimson fluid pooling under his neck, and painting Xulchilbara's face.
That hand found the young vampire's arousal again and spread that sticky, coppery scented fluid across him, then further back to gently caress, and fondle his scrotum, His opposing hand, with slit wrist bleeding hot rich blood across His palm came up to press against the young vampire's rear opening.
Then the hand followed the curve of Walter's back, his bleeding hip to be smeared across the Red God's own erection.

The vice-like hold of His mouth on Walter's neck remained, as the God groaned at the sensation of Walter's blood flowing down His throat.
That hand moved to Walter's uninjured hip, and rectified that, blade nails biting into pale flesh on both hips now to hold the man in place while the monster pushed inside.

Loosening His hold on Walter's neck, Xulchilbara licked His lips, though He was coated from mouth to chin with rivulets running down His throat.
An indolent smile as He played with Walter, enjoying His newest servant's reactions.

Flesh torn by razor-sharp nails healed as quickly as the more intimate pain caused by Xulchilbara's entry - an agony, an itch, and gone. The scent of blood rode thick in the air. The sandpaper scrape of Xulchilbara's presence over Walter's nerves was not something that could be healed. It was part and parcel of the experience.

It should be nothing but agony. Explain then the duality of the experience. Every bite of pain traced a molten path to his groin. The excruciation of the dual penetrations dragged a thin whine from him - too good to want to stop, too agonizing to want it to continue, and Walter unable to ask for either because it was all Xulchilbara's will.

Instead, submit, head down, body open, hips raising to meet the other man's.

Man, yes, in more ways than simply gender. A mortal God, and for now, no one knew what exactly that entailed save Xulchilbara himself.
Still, those were thoughts for another time.

A few minutes more of petting and fondling allowed for the distraction desired, so that when the young vampire pressed against Him in plea, whether for an end to the exquisite agony, or fulfillment, He was all too willing to oblige.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly He pressed Himself into Walter. Blood, sweat and saliva offering the only lubricant, but the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain was simply another set of sensation in a maelstrom of similar sensations.
The God hissed as after a slow eternity, He was seated fully within the prostrate vampire, the pleasure of pressure and friction of movement causing Him to dig His claws into Walter's hip until they nearly scraped bone.

Reaching past the younger man's hips, blood-slicked fingers curled around Walter's own throbbing erection and slid from tip to base to create a ring of thumb and index finger which applied a leg-trembling pressure to the base of his erection.
Pleased with the response, Xulchilbara gave another slick caress in parting, and placed that hand on the floor beneath them, thus achieving more leverage.

Waves of corrosively sweet sensation poured from him as his fraying control over his own essence made manifest; a rising tide of agonizing bliss.
He groaned again at the spasming response when the better position led to deeper penetration, and rubbed against the younger man's prostate. The God's nails added their marks to the floor as well, for having found the spot, He pressed against it with each successive thrust, his sharp nails sinking into the muscle and flexing tendon beneath him.......fully intending to bring Walter to black out, or simply climax simultaneous to his own.

The band of sensation was tightening across His lower back, and pulsing downward with each successive thrust; A warning that release was not far off.

Blacking out was almost an attractive option. But not with the promise of release, not with the way that Xulchilbara's movements had changed tenor, not with the ache that promised that this would be an orgasm that would, were he not already there, bring him to his knees.

Walter's tidy ponytail had fallen in untidy and bloodied strands around his face. Still the pain. Still the agonized ecstasy. Now the added pulse of every stroke of Xulchilbara's erection over his prostate.

He closed his eyes and let the wave build, blood red behind his closed eyelids. The god's presence was so overwhelming that each thrust seemed to touch not just body but soul.

And then the red behind his eyelids did go black; had he been human, consciousness would have abandoned him altogether, instead of receding like water before the crash of the tidal wave that threatened to sweep him under and drown him in sensation so intense there was no way to define it as pleasure or pain.

The hard spasms of Walter's release drew a shuddering groan from the God, and a deeper wash of near-tangible power poured off of him in lapping waves.

I aM tHe CrImSoN OnE.
ThE lIeS aNd ThE mIsT ArE
nOt tHeY BUt I.
His scathing voice purred with a blade's cutting edge through the vampire's mind.

Walter was still caught in the throes of orgasm, whimpering and gasping as Xulchibara pounded into him. His thrusts were hard enough to move the younger man forward, until the hand that was by now coated to the wrist, and dripping with Walter's blood circled the younger man's waist, and held him still.

The pulsing sensation reached a fever pitch, and as Walter's vision darkened, the God released his hold Walter's waist, and reared, his back arching as he thrust as deep as possible into the vampire. A tearing noise somewhere between a growl and a scream ripping its way from blood smeared lips, as the God came hard and fast. His seed poured from him, a rich gushing that filled the shaking body under him and flowed over His shaft in waves of debilitating heat. His muscles locked and quivered as he succumbed to the jolting tides of electricity that hammered through his body.

Xulchilbara withdrew from the younger man's body. An indolent stretch, and the God lay alongside the wounded, but healing quickly, vampire. The blood that pooled around them, and covered His mouth, chest, thighs, and wrists was still warm, and felt exquisite on His heated skin.
A moment of silence, and deciding that Walter had either passed out, or was close to it, Xulchilbara kissed the the vampire's cheek tenderly, and propped himself up to recline on one elbow to lick at the blood on his hands and wrists with the satisfied look of a well-fed cat.

"Welcome to the family..." he purred.

Walter rolled onto his back and blinked dazedly up at the ceiling before his gaze was drawn inexorably over to Xulchilbara. "Thank you." He rubbed the front of his throat unconsciously, massaging the quiet burn of his mark.

He should ask questions. Find his role in the family instead of drifting awaiting the god's will. He just wasn't quite ready to make the transition from transcendent experience to prosaic details yet.

For now, roll over more and curl against Xulchilbara if the god allowed it and lick the blood off his skin. A vampire's version of afterglow.

Having sucked the fingers and palm clean on one hand, Xulchilbara threaded those long tapered fingers through Walter's loose hair, and let His ever-burning eyes slide half closed at the pleasing sensation of Walter's tongue lapping up the blood that splattered His chest.

"Still hungry, my înger?" He asked in His more human voice.
The hand threading in a petting caress through Walter's hair was the injured one, though now Xulchilbara's pale skin had knitted cleanly over the wound, leaving no trace of its presence.

It had been too long since the Red God had a vampire for a lover. And how deliciously ironic that it be the very one who had been so intent on His destruction until very recently.
Still, the question of Walter's specific purpose was unanswered.....but Xulchilbara had one in mind after such a pleasing interlude, and the fact that prior to feeding on Walter, the cut wrist would still be healing, considering how much energy it was taking to keep Rangiku fed.

A considering look added its light to those flame wreathed eyes. Blood was the coin of the soul, but what of a soul that was far stranger, and far vaster than a human being's? Could not such a soul afford to lose miniscule amounts of itself without mourning the loss?
.....Yes. It could.

The purring edge remained in the God's voice as He asked "...Do you want more?". Meaning, of course, more of Xulchilbara's blood.

Walter lay against Xulchilbara, basking in his warmth and languidly licking the god's skin to savor the taste of his own blood mixed with the small amounts of Xulchilbara's that had spilled from his cut wrist.

He stilled at the question and looked up to meet those fiery eyes. More.... Ignore that faint clamor that said No! Don't drown there. Not when a vampire's hunger always said yes. Not when the vintage offered was utterly unique. Drinking the Red God's blood left him warm - truly warm - any price was worth paying.

Thus his answer: "Please."

A manic grin and a flare of madness in the fire of His eyes at such a charming, nigh sycophantic response.
Obliging His new lover, Xulchilbara indolently switched the hand that was threading through Walter's hair and continued petting him,while slowly He raised His pale wrist to His mouth.

Small splatters of blood still lingered on upper wrist and forearm, and the God made a slight show of licking those off, before His eyes slid closed, and His own triple set of snake-like fangs sank into the soft flesh.
Blood sprang forth immediately, and Xulchilbara moved His bleeding wrist to hover just over Walter's mouth....
....This distraction allowed Him to coax the young vampire's head back; long fingers urging him to turn slightly toward the proffered wrist.

Walter tipped his head back, opening his mouth and straining to catch the blood before any could be lost or wasted. His tongue snaked out, almost obscenely long, to lick away a trickle of the red liquid that threatened to drop anywhere but his mouth.

Every drop was a deliciously hot threat to his sanity - what there was of it. Coin of the soul when the soul was a god's? It would be hubris indeed to expect to rule that experience rather than the other way around.

But worth it. As he had said to Alucard, Xulchilbara gave him the reality of divinity that the church had only ever given empty promises of.

A soft groan broke the methodic purring as Walter's mout closed over His opened wrist.
A flare of violet edged fire in His eyes as the God used His free hand to arch Walter's neck, and while His Angel fed on Him, He let His own fangs slide almost lovingly into the flesh of Walter's neck.

A profound shiver as the first taste of blood blossomed across His tongue, and the circuit closed.
A connection far more intimate than flesh, and far deeper a bond than 'love'.
The Red God. Crimson Atrocity....The Circle of rebirth came back to the source, and here Walter was reborn, and given new purpose...

Master to servant
Fire to ice

....Pain to life

And there his need to question was obviated. In pain and pleasure and blood and what must be a kernel of purpose growing where there'd been a hollow.