courtofshadows @ 2006-05-15T10:38:00

2006-05-15T17:39:38Z

God, I love my Narcissa. Not the one in Dangerous to Know, but the one I rp.

I never thought I'd write Narcissa-gen fic, but I think I'm going to.

... in between writing WLDNC, and the GG/SS portion of my collab fic.

courtofshadows @ 2006-05-11T12:23:00

2006-05-11T19:23:59Z

An interactive essay on original characters, with some humorous elements (I hope) can be found here.

Hah! Now they cannot say that we are mean and unhelpful. ;)

DEFT3K 3: Purge

2006-05-09T15:49:25Z

So, I've done a third Death Eater Fanfic Theater. This one is, I kid you not, Draco/Wormtail... and sadly, that is not even the worst of it.

You can find the DEFT3K here.

And I Will Open Thee/Letter I

2006-05-08T01:34:06Z

Riddle/Rosier, Riddle/Malfoy
R; masturbation, dominance, breathplay (R/R), cold romance (R/M)
653 words; Letter I of the Malfoy Letters;
Because Tom Riddle is the only way to break in a new journal.

His muscles are still sore and trembling from the first Quidditch game of the season, and he wraps his blankets tight around himself, nuzzling his cheek against their softness in an effort to lull his body toward sleep. It proves impossible to resist the sounds of a quill scratching on parchment; impossible not to imagine the elegant fingers wrapped around the quill and the perfect, jagged strokes of his eloquent calligraphy.

Impossible to resist the fantasy that grips his waking mind with its talons and soars effortlessly aloft: Tom Riddle's pale and perfect hand stroking Rosier's body with the same control, the same half-attentive grace, his head slightly tilted and lip gently reddened with the faintest pressure of the white upper teeth.

He shifts uncomfortably in his bed and opens his eyes. There is Riddle, sitting up at his desk. His head is slightly bent so that the black hair reflects pinprick gleams of the candlelight in reddish and violet refractions, like the feathers of a dark bird. He has not yet disrobed from his uniform, and the black material catches the rest of the ruddy light and disrupts it into a halo of his silhouette. The skin is pale like smoke, ethereal, making Riddle seem ghostly.

Rosier's fingers slip unobtrusively to his growing erection, teasing the soft skin at the head of his penis with strokes delicate enough not to disturb his blankets. In his mind, Riddle turns from the desk and comes to him, smiling his cold smile rather than the warm and artificial one his housemates are generally spared. In Rosier's mind, Riddle's hard athletic body is swung over his in one severe motion. It holds him inexorably against the mattress, grinds painfully and with strict authority. Riddle's hand sweeps Rosier's long hair up from the pillow, wraps it around his beautiful fingers and pulls. It forces Rosier's head to arch (Rosier's head arches as his fingers increase their rhythm) so that Riddle's free hand can close, thumb on carotid, tightening as he moves cruelly against Rosier's loins, stimulating a writhing ecstasy as the younger boy's vision swims with pain and the heart-racing euphoria of fear.

He makes a helpless sound as the fantasy causes him to tremble, to arc too close to actual orgasm for a room filled with his peers, and goes instantly still in order to evade any sudden glance by his fantasy's principal.

Riddle does not even shift, continuing to write.

+

I am the only one who can give you what you seek. You knew this, as I did, the moment our lips first touched that moment in the fetid incongruous stench of Knockturn Alley. As my fingers slid into your hair I knew that I must have you among mine, knew that in the quest for what is rightfully mine you would find the meaning your long life has lacked.

Know that I offer only use and benefit. We are not men who will tremble or flush with pleasure at the offer of weakness; we are men who value loyalty but not love.

My body is a temple too pure to accept the vagaries and intransience of lust. You and I know well that the ecstasy of the flesh is useless in comparison with the sweet orgasm of the mind and soul that dominance and mortification of another's flesh can render.

I will give you the keys to the gates of hell you covet. And I will open you to the darkness of what I will become, so that you will feel the truth and beauty of kneeling at the feet of that darkness. You have not been born too late into a world of decay and infection. You have lived to witness the dawn of a new world of blood and cleansing: a world where the tourniquet of the past can now be tightened.

Come accept the mark of my patronage, and I will repay yours a hundredfold.

L.V. to A.M., Letter I

prince of fire and darkness

courtofshadows @ 2006-05-15T10:38:00

courtofshadows @ 2006-05-11T12:23:00

DEFT3K 3: Purge

And I Will Open Thee/Letter I