iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

That yanked at Victor’s heart more than anything else ever could. Despite his love of danger and playboy attitude he secretly yearned to have a family of his own. The idea scared the hell out of him but he wanted to be a father, sometime in the future. “I-but…” The protest died on his lips, not really having an actual argument. He stopped trying to mask the fear in his eyes and let Summer see it. He was scared, all he knew was killing. He was scared of fucking things up. What right did he really have settling down? Having a family maybe. “Alright, an’ wha’ should we do about my obvious problem with blood? I can’t live off of bagged blood. I can’t only feed off of you, it’d kill you.”

“Shit,” she swore wearily. “I don’t know. I just — I can’t do this again, not knowing, being afraid for you.” She blinked, trying not to cry, but it was too late. Hot tears slid down past her ears, and she freed a hand to rub at her face. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Victor frowned and gently swatted her hand away, wiping the tears with his own hand and kissing her eyes. “I know, an’ I want t’ stay with you, I’d give the world for you even though it scares me t’ death Summer. It won’t do either of us any good if I’m dead though.” He sighed shakily, not making eye contact for a moment then smiled sadly. His lips found hers slowly and rhythmically as he kissed her. “I’ll do it. I’ll stop. I dunno how but I’ll figure something out. I’ll stop for you if you want me t’.”

It hurt. His worry, his fear, his pain, his sorrow — she made an effort to shut it out, hard though it was with his skin to hers. But she could barely respond to his kisses, cutting herself with how selfish she was. Who was she to ask him to change, just because she was a little afraid? That wasn’t fair to him, not at all.

“Don’t,” Summer said at last, turning her face away. “Don’t, I don’t deserve it. I’m sorry, it was selfish, I shouldn’t’ve said it.”

iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

Victor growled low in his throat as she arched into him and he almost didn’t register what she had said. He froze suddenly. “Wha’ would you have me do then love?” There was a fear in his eyes that he tried to mask. He didn’t think he could really /be/ anything else, he was a killer and had known little else. Yet at the same time, he wanted to be better, for her and for his safety. 

Summer brushed her thumbs along his cheekbones. “Stay with me. Love me, raise ocelots and smaller cats and maybe one day a child of our own.” Her face was troubled, a little sad, a little yearning, as she looked up into his eyes. “There’s more to you than danger, and I don’t think I could take it if you disappeared again.”

That yanked at Victor’s heart more than anything else ever could. Despite his love of danger and playboy attitude he secretly yearned to have a family of his own. The idea scared the hell out of him but he wanted to be a father, sometime in the future. “I-but…” The protest died on his lips, not really having an actual argument. He stopped trying to mask the fear in his eyes and let Summer see it. He was scared, all he knew was killing. He was scared of fucking things up. What right did he really have settling down? Having a family maybe. “Alright, an’ wha’ should we do about my obvious problem with blood? I can’t live off of bagged blood. I can’t only feed off of you, it’d kill you.”

“Shit,” she swore wearily. “I don’t know. I just — I can’t do this again, not knowing, being afraid for you.” She blinked, trying not to cry, but it was too late. Hot tears slid down past her ears, and she freed a hand to rub at her face. “Sorry. Sorry.”

iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

Victor hummed in contentment as her fingers slid into his hair; he had missed that. He pressed into her again, letting her feel how hard his was, the sensation sending bolts of pleasure up his spine. One of his hands ran up her side, dipping underneath the hem of her shirt and trailing her body up to her breasts. “Whatever you’d like.” He reaffirmed as he cupped and kneaded the flesh in his hand.

“What if,” she murmured, arching up into him, “what I’d like is for you to never take another contract again?” The hair rose on her skin at the contrast between the heat of his hand and the coolness of the rest of her body.

Victor growled low in his throat as she arched into him and he almost didn’t register what she had said. He froze suddenly. “Wha’ would you have me do then love?” There was a fear in his eyes that he tried to mask. He didn’t think he could really /be/ anything else, he was a killer and had known little else. Yet at the same time, he wanted to be better, for her and for his safety. 

Summer brushed her thumbs along his cheekbones. “Stay with me. Love me, raise ocelots and smaller cats and maybe one day a child of our own.” Her face was troubled, a little sad, a little yearning, as she looked up into his eyes. “There’s more to you than danger, and I don’t think I could take it if you disappeared again.”

iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

“Because I never wanted t’ hurt you Summer an’ I’ve made a mess of things.” Victor bit his lip, happy for the contact and stared into her eyes. His hand cupped her cheek while his thumb brushed her lip. “Because I love you.” He hesitated for a moment then kissed her, gently on the lips. “An’ I’ll never stop.”

“Victor,” she mumbled. “D-don—” It was pointless to protest, given the way she was still pressing against him, the way she put her hand behind his head and pulled him into a harder kiss. She was still angry, she told herself, still angry. This didn’t mean she wasn’t angry. Just to prove that, she bit his lip.

Victor smiled against her lips at the sound of his name, at the way she pulled him in. “I know I’m not forgiven,” he said as he kissed her lips again before kissing her eyelids and cheek. “I know you’re angry love.” He nipped at her lip. “I hope you’re willing t’ work with me t’ get through this though.” He kissed her neck, reassuring himself that she was real.

“Yes, of course,” she whispered, baring her throat to him. “I think,” she added, hooking her heel over his hip, “I should just microchip you. Like a pet.” She scraped her hand down his back. “So this can’t happen again.” Fingertips under the shirt. “Ever. So I always know.” Nails into his skin, dragging at the back of the pants. “Where you are.”

iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

The musty rot of mildew soaked the air as he came to. He was hanging by his wrists, the cuffs attached to the chain digging into his flesh. The door opened with a whine as his tormentor waltzed into the prison cell. Xander carried his favorite tool, his metal cane. Again with the same question, “Will you do as you were meant to and rebuild the Academy?” Again, the same answer, “Never.” The look of strange disappointment on Xander’s face before he swung the cane into Victor’s ribs.

Victor started awake, his eyes wide as it took him a moment to remember where he was. He looked over at Summer and pulled her close to him, willing himself to calm down. His eyes closed as he tried to fill his senses only with her scent. He let out a shaky exhale and whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Tentatively, he ran his fingers down her jaw and over her cheekbone, recommitting her to memory in an effort to push out the remnants of his nightmare.  

She was not going to — she was /not/ going to — the spark was still there. The one they’d blown into a raging blaze practically the day they’d met. It jumped from his fingers to her skin and chased down her spine. “Why?” she asked, pulling a knee up to drape over his leg under the covers, the length of her body pressed to the length of his.

“Because I never wanted t’ hurt you Summer an’ I’ve made a mess of things.” Victor bit his lip, happy for the contact and stared into her eyes. His hand cupped her cheek while his thumb brushed her lip. “Because I love you.” He hesitated for a moment then kissed her, gently on the lips. “An’ I’ll never stop.”

“Victor,” she mumbled. “D-don—” It was pointless to protest, given the way she was still pressing against him, the way she put her hand behind his head and pulled him into a harder kiss. She was still angry, she told herself, still angry. This didn’t mean she wasn’t angry. Just to prove that, she bit his lip.

iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

“He’s not a vampire, an’ no, he’s not even exactly sure of the location of my house right now. He’s a human tha’ got some outside help as t’ how t’ bind vampires.” Victor looked down at the floor. “I-um would you mind jus’ laying there with me? If not I get it, y’know I’ve been gone an’ such.”

She’d been going to sleep on the couch. Been going to say ‘no’, before he even asked. Except when he did ask, it was so diffident, so already sure of her ‘no’, she changed her mind. “Yes, alright, Victor d—” She did cut off the ‘darling’ before it left her lips. “Go put on some dry clothes,” she said instead. If she really looked at him nude, tonight, fuck knew what might happen.

She slipped back into the bathroom to gather up his wet clothes without, again, waiting for an answer. How did you recreate the space in your life that had been left empty, that had started to heal? If he had just been away, and kept in touch, that would be different, but he had been /gone/. Utterly absent in a way that brooked no argument and left only room for grieving. What did you do when the grieving cycle was brutally interrupted by a /lack/ of absence?

Summer became aware that she was standing over the dryer, arms braced on its top, staring at nothing at all. Helios sat in the kitchen entrance, watching her with grave blue eyes. “Yes, alright, fuzzbutt,” she told him, and let him let the way to her bedroom.

Victor didn’t say anything, he didn’t let it outwardly affect him when she didn’t tack on the ‘darling’ at the end of her sentence. He knew he couldn’t just expect her to go back to how things used to be. Wordlessly he went and changed into the dry set of clothes. As he tugged on the shirt he looked down and examined himself for the first time in a long time. There were new scars to add to his old ones and surely there would be new nightmares to add it his old ones as well now. Part of him wondered what he was thinking and if he should have come here at all. He should have just kept Summer out of it all, the last thing she probably needed right now was his sorry ass waltzing back into her life. Victor lay down on the bed, his hands tucked behind his head while he just stared at the ceiling, waiting for Summer to come back.

Just like that, standing in the doorway to her room, seeing him lie on the bed — tasting the renewed darkness inside him — just like that she was crying again. Not sobbing, but the hideous, silent, burning tears that welled up and overflowed, welled up and overflowed with every blink, spilled out from under closed eyelids. She hit the light switch, plunging the room into silvery darkness, and picked her way to the bed.

Somekitty hit the floor with a mrt and a thump, and she climbed into the warm spot left behind, turning her face into Victor’s shoulder and curling up against his body. He still smelled faintly of blood and pain, although she wasn’t sure if she was actually smelling that or if it was just empathic synaesthesia. Hesitantly, she lifted a hand, lightly brushing it over him until she touched his mouth, and left her fingers there, trembling slightly.

iamvictor-roth:

iamthefirechild:

iamvictor-roth:

Victor eased his grip on her a little, not wanting to crush her. He knew he was far from forgiven and everything was far from over. He expected nothing else. “I could try t’ kill him, I jus’ wouldn’t be able t’ count on my vampiric strength. If you want t’ give it a shot then go ahead, love.”

“You’re sure he’s not going to unexpectedly turn up on my doorstep tonight?” Summer pulled back enough to look up into his eyes. “I could really wish that whole ‘invitation-only’ mythology were true.” She led her head fall back enough to thunk on the wall gently, briefly, before pushing herself away from it. “I found you some clothes. You should probably sleep.”

“He’s not a vampire, an’ no, he’s not even exactly sure of the location of my house right now. He’s a human tha’ got some outside help as t’ how t’ bind vampires.” Victor looked down at the floor. “I-um would you mind jus’ laying there with me? If not I get it, y’know I’ve been gone an’ such.”

She’d been going to sleep on the couch. Been going to say ‘no’, before he even asked. Except when he did ask, it was so diffident, so already sure of her ‘no’, she changed her mind. “Yes, alright, Victor d—” She did cut off the ‘darling’ before it left her lips. “Go put on some dry clothes,” she said instead. If she really looked at him nude, tonight, fuck knew what might happen.

She slipped back into the bathroom to gather up his wet clothes without, again, waiting for an answer. How did you recreate the space in your life that had been left empty, that had started to heal? If he had just been away, and kept in touch, that would be different, but he had been /gone/. Utterly absent in a way that brooked no argument and left only room for grieving. What did you do when the grieving cycle was brutally interrupted by a /lack/ of absence?

Summer became aware that she was standing over the dryer, arms braced on its top, staring at nothing at all. Helios sat in the kitchen entrance, watching her with grave blue eyes. “Yes, alright, fuzzbutt,” she told him, and let him let the way to her bedroom.