Kink Bingo - Amputee Fetish
Jul. 10th, 2009 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_qOk, this was actually the first fic I wrote for Kink Bingo - I decided to go for the most strange one first. I haven't written this fandom ever, but the short scene stuck in my head and I thought to write a piece about how Krista might have felt down the sewers. (5/5)
Fandom: Blade: The Series
Pairing: Krista / Blade
Kink: Amputee Fetish
Word count: 650
Notes: set during ep 0106 'Delivery'. Nothing too major, just loose body parts.
Sacrifice = Love = Blood?
It was not the ideal way to experience Paris. You don't pack your guns with the thought ”Tonight I'm going to ask him to carve me to pieces” and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It is not an epitome of romance, not even for a vampire. Krista had imagined something...More.
They were somewhere deep under the city and the nightlife hummed above them. It was peaceful. No fear of exposure, no sudden attacks, no need to fake anything for anyone. Just two of them, under the cover of darkness.
”What are you suggesting?” Blade sounded annoyed but Krista liked to think that it stemmed from concern. It helped, even if it was just her imagination.
She had had the time to think this through over the flight to Paris. All the possible outcomes were limited because Marcus wouldn't believe anything but the real deal. She needed to protect Blade and she needed to protect herself. Sometimes you have to take one for the team but the burden of sacrifice was always on her shoulders. Didn't he know how tired she was, how this hunger gnawed her from the inside?
”I'm in a war... with you. I better look like it.” The words felt odd coming from her mouth. She didn't know how to ask this, what words would carry the right meaning. You have to hurt me. Like you have never hurt me.
He just stared at her. Silent. Unmoving. She stared back, straight into her own reflection from his glasses. Was he sad under the stone facade? Or did he feel the same pleasure he felt when he was mowing the random cannon fodder into a pile of ash? Did he care?
The unsheathed sword captured her attention and for a moment she couldn't tear her eyes from it. She had seen how he used it, the seemingly effortless skill. She wasn't afraid that he would hurt her more than he intended. She feared that the sword had a mind of its own, deep silent vehemence that Blade did not control. The silence stretched on. Krista knew that he waited for her to show what she wanted. What would you give? For him?
She lifted her right hand, the hand that should be holding the gun right now. Her skin was pale and white in the dim light. The hand seemed so tiny, helpless. Still part of her, yet suddenly strange and alien. Blade took her hand into his, like they were no different from thousands couples holding hands in Paris.
There was a flash of metal, so quick that even with her vampire senses she couldn't catch the whole arch of movement. Her hand sizzled and crackled before crumbled to glowing embers. The stench of burning flesh filled the space, the aroma of her own blood made her stomach churn. The pain didn't register. Her face was wet, she was leaking everywhere.
”Krista.” Blade sounded stern and cold. He was holding her arm, squeezing it in a vice like grip. The blood trickled to the ground. Wet, heavy splashing. She was starving, couldn't he understand that? She snarled at him, attempted to fight or flee, didn't know what, the madness was a black cloud, the pain unbearable.
”Krista!” Blade roared at her somewhere from the darkness, it was hard to see. She tried to fight but her hand was ash and she was weak, so weak. Blade pinned her between the stone wall and his chest. There was a familiar sharp twinge when he pushed the needle in, the gurgle of liquid and the rush of staggering pain.
”It is alright Krista, it is alright...” He muttered, cradling her. He leaned closer and she relaxed, tried ride the pain like so many times before. He was here. Here with her. It was enough.
It had to be enough.
Fandom: Blade: The Series
Pairing: Krista / Blade
Kink: Amputee Fetish
Word count: 650
Notes: set during ep 0106 'Delivery'. Nothing too major, just loose body parts.
Sacrifice = Love = Blood?
It was not the ideal way to experience Paris. You don't pack your guns with the thought ”Tonight I'm going to ask him to carve me to pieces” and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It is not an epitome of romance, not even for a vampire. Krista had imagined something...More.
They were somewhere deep under the city and the nightlife hummed above them. It was peaceful. No fear of exposure, no sudden attacks, no need to fake anything for anyone. Just two of them, under the cover of darkness.
”What are you suggesting?” Blade sounded annoyed but Krista liked to think that it stemmed from concern. It helped, even if it was just her imagination.
She had had the time to think this through over the flight to Paris. All the possible outcomes were limited because Marcus wouldn't believe anything but the real deal. She needed to protect Blade and she needed to protect herself. Sometimes you have to take one for the team but the burden of sacrifice was always on her shoulders. Didn't he know how tired she was, how this hunger gnawed her from the inside?
”I'm in a war... with you. I better look like it.” The words felt odd coming from her mouth. She didn't know how to ask this, what words would carry the right meaning. You have to hurt me. Like you have never hurt me.
He just stared at her. Silent. Unmoving. She stared back, straight into her own reflection from his glasses. Was he sad under the stone facade? Or did he feel the same pleasure he felt when he was mowing the random cannon fodder into a pile of ash? Did he care?
The unsheathed sword captured her attention and for a moment she couldn't tear her eyes from it. She had seen how he used it, the seemingly effortless skill. She wasn't afraid that he would hurt her more than he intended. She feared that the sword had a mind of its own, deep silent vehemence that Blade did not control. The silence stretched on. Krista knew that he waited for her to show what she wanted. What would you give? For him?
She lifted her right hand, the hand that should be holding the gun right now. Her skin was pale and white in the dim light. The hand seemed so tiny, helpless. Still part of her, yet suddenly strange and alien. Blade took her hand into his, like they were no different from thousands couples holding hands in Paris.
There was a flash of metal, so quick that even with her vampire senses she couldn't catch the whole arch of movement. Her hand sizzled and crackled before crumbled to glowing embers. The stench of burning flesh filled the space, the aroma of her own blood made her stomach churn. The pain didn't register. Her face was wet, she was leaking everywhere.
”Krista.” Blade sounded stern and cold. He was holding her arm, squeezing it in a vice like grip. The blood trickled to the ground. Wet, heavy splashing. She was starving, couldn't he understand that? She snarled at him, attempted to fight or flee, didn't know what, the madness was a black cloud, the pain unbearable.
”Krista!” Blade roared at her somewhere from the darkness, it was hard to see. She tried to fight but her hand was ash and she was weak, so weak. Blade pinned her between the stone wall and his chest. There was a familiar sharp twinge when he pushed the needle in, the gurgle of liquid and the rush of staggering pain.
”It is alright Krista, it is alright...” He muttered, cradling her. He leaned closer and she relaxed, tried ride the pain like so many times before. He was here. Here with her. It was enough.
It had to be enough.