The moonlight didn't strike Eishrin's face as it should have. Instead, it became an eerie halo of glowing silver, caught in the diamond strands of the Keeper's hair. It seemed to pulse, the radiant light of the moon broken by the thick tendrils of abyssal darkness that tore outward from the Keeper's back—torn wings, like that of Lucifer's. A lesser man would have believed this creature to be an angel, to be a god, but Eishrin knew better.
Still, that hauntingly cold shade of blue burned into him with a fire that he shouldn't have felt. It cut deep into his bones, infusing through his marrow, until the chill of the Keeper's gaze froze him almost completely. That shifted hand, fingers stretched into monstrous talons, grew still over the crumbled cobblestones. He was unable to look away, his throat bared and pressed into the blade of shadow in a dare. A dare to kill him. A dare to end this. A dare to take what he'd come here for, and what all others had failed to do so before him. A dare to kill what had nearly bested him.
The sharp of a nail touched to Eishrin's cheek, biting the ebony of his skin. It dimpled first, resisting the sharp pressure, before it was finally split and carved. Eishrin's inhale came as a hiss, drawn in between tightly grit teeth. The muscle at the corner of his jaw twitched, all fire and rage within him beginning to build now that it could not be unleashed. It heated his belly, warmed his skin, and made his body thrum almost visibly.
Why else would you be here? To take me back to them? They don't want me. They haven't wanted me for years. They seek only to destroy me because I will never be enough. I am never enough.
Those words remained unspoken, thought only within Eishrin's spiralling mind as he glared up at his executioner. The truth of this all hadn't sunken in, hadn't even been considered, until the Keeper spoke again.
Reward.
Eishrin was the reward, and it left him yearning for the death he'd thought he'd been promised. And Eishrin had only made it easier by so foolishly biting the Keeper's lip in that kiss. He'd tasted the Keeper's blood, and sealed his fate.
"No." The word was uttered, a prayer more than a defiance. Understanding shattered Eishrin's blissful ignorance, an even icier spear through him than the Keeper's own eyes.
The thick of his hair was caught, shoved over a broad shoulder to lay over the lapel that glimmered with those two golden studs. A mockery of what was to yet become of Eishrin—homage to what he'd soon only have been.
"You fucking bastard," Eishrin snarled. That thick, dark fur climbed higher, disappearing beneath the cuff of his leather jacket. The full bone-breaking shift of his forms would not transpire, held at bay only by Eishrin's understanding that it would secure his death. Maybe that's what I need. For death is better than what he plans—
The run of a warm, wet tongue along the side of his throat made Eishrin flinch, the blade twitching against his throat. It nicked him, the deep crimson of his blood weeping downward to pool within the sweep of his collarbone. It lay there like a ruby, a promise, an offering, even as that shallow graze disappeared.
"Fuck you," Eishrin cursed, the words spat. "Fuck you, and fuck all of your—"
His wish for death would never be granted, for the Keeper's fangs pierced deeply within sinew and muscle and vasculature. The blood that would rise would come in a torrent, pouring into the Keeper's mouth until he'd be forced to guzzle or let it spill down his chin. The pain was searing at first, Eishrin growing rigid. It worsened, running straight into Eishrin's skull to build with pressure until it felt like he might explode. As it continued to intensify and Eishrin's vision was stolen from him, Eishrin's large hand clapped down on the Keeper's forearm, sinking claws into the cream of his skin as he desperately tried to force the Keeper's blade across his own throat.
Kill me. Kill me. Kill me kill me killmekillmekillme
That glimpse of salvation, the promise of nothingness, disappeared the moment that very dark blade flickered and faded. As Eishrin's blood was stolen from him, so too was his opportunity for peace. For what the Keeper had forced upon him, was still forcing upon him, was worse than an eternity of limbo.
It began as something spearing; something sharper than the pressure that had built behind Eishrin's eyes worse than any migraine he'd suffered before. It settled into the base of his skull, clawed down through his spine, fanned out through his nerves and began to pulse. Every fibre, every capillary, every cell began to thrum, and Eishrin felt like he was being burned alive. He barely registered the wrap of the Keeper's arms about his chest, how he'd started to sink back as his vision turned dusky.
All he could sense was the Keeper's intrusion. His presence within Eishrin's mind.
Get out.
The thought would come loud, reverberating, snarled even though it wasn't spoken. Even as Eishrin's vision finally went black, his clawed hand limp against the ground, his body becoming slack, he still fought this sinful intrusion.
Get the fuck out of my head.
And then it began.
It started with a haze of white and grey; a colourless expanse with no real outline. It could have been anything, but this vision shared through blood and by venom began to sharpen. Eishrin knew that this memory, forced up from a dark place he'd hidden it, was being pried open by the Keeper, lived and experienced as if it were the Keeper's own.
A metal table lay in the centre of a sterile, tiled room; a floor to ceiling glass window by the far side. Brown leather cuffs were bolted in four points, open and unbuckled and waiting. A metal tray sat upon a bench, filled with syringes and unlabelled vials. They swirled with blue-hued liquid, menacing within their own right.
And then it shifted again. And again. And again.
A back-beach, where the tide was breaking high on the shoreline. Ebony feet struggling through the shallows, hands reaching down into the salt water, struggling to drag a limp body from the sea.
A dark room, the only light the yellow glow from beneath a locked door. The sudden skitter of a creature, small enough to be a mouse, before the light before it was snatched by a small, juvenile hand. A splatter of blood. The fall of gizzards. The small creature devoured, bones and all.
A woman's face. Her skin cream, her hair brunette, but her eyes a pale blue. Smiling, laughing, before it all twisted…
GET OUT.
"I can never love you."
"You will never be enough."
"You are a monster."
"Get away from me!"
"Freak!"
This invasion had stolen all of Eishrin's senses, his face blank as he blindly looked up into the sky. There was nothing else that existed besides this torrent of memories—visions now granted to the Keeper that not only sought to steal his freedom, but also his past. Eishrin hated him more for this. More for digging into his head and making him relive these things he'd kept buried for so long on purpose.
It had a lone tear falling over his cheekbone to mix with the crimson of his blood.
Get out. Get out. GET OUT!
Those memories began to fade, a blackness settling in within Eishrin's mind once more. His peace did not last for long. Instead, that pressure within his skull began to ease, the eerie sensation of being violated still lingering as a weight within his head. But the pain twisted, turning into something far, far worse.
His blood warmed, his skin flushing, his lips parting as he gasped. Everything was suddenly too much and, yet, not enough. He felt the tight wrap of the Keeper's lean arms, the press of his chest against Eishrin's shoulder blades, how perfectly their bodies seemed to conform. He felt where the Keeper was sharp, where he was soft, where he was lean. He felt how the Keeper's fingers were tight over his pectoral, his breath now cool against his throat as those fangs bit deeper.
It all pooled low, a hot tincture of arousal and need beginning to flood Eishrin's core. Despite the pervasive intrusion, despite the pain of it all, Eishrin's cock began to harden. It was worse than the pain. This need, this itch, that clawed its way through Eishrin's body that had him pressing a palm into his lap, running the heel of his over the throbbing length of himself in utter desperation.
The slight shift in the Keeper's bite was barely enough to snap Eishrin's desirous wandering, but it did so; his vision creeping back in as he shoved his hand away from his length.
Get…get out of my head, you fucking sick bastard.