Dec. 19th, 2009 06:40 pm
avashida: (Phoenix - waiting for you)
[personal profile] avashida
Title: Pride
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, psychological breaking, Stockholm Syndrome, branding. 
Summary: ...I can't really summarise this. Alex being coaxed rather than broken into Phoenix.


At first, it was because Lucifer insisted on holding the blood in his mouth.


It killed his pride but the only way to get it was to kneel on the stone floor and lick Lucifer’s mouth open, curl his fingers on the other’s shoulders and whimper for it. Beg for it.


What was pride compared to the burning, never-ending thirst, in the end?


Alex did it.




At first, it was because of the chains. Lucifer left a bowl of blood just out of reach for four days, and when he returned he offered Alex the key to his bonds.


It killed his pride but the only way to find it was to run his hands over Damian’s body, strip off every inch of clothing until the key fell into his hands from a hidden pocket.


What was pride compared to the burning, never-ending thirst, in the end?


Alex did it.




At first, it was because of the darkness. It was so dark in his cage, so cold, so empty, and he was scared that he was forgetting his earlier life. Terrified that he couldn’t remember what sunlight felt like on his skin.


It killed his pride but the only way to feel it was to sit still and obedient, to not resist or bare his fangs when Lucifer clasped the collar around his throat. To not fight the drain on his powers and follow the tug of the leash once they were outside.


What was pride compared to staying human for a little longer?


Alex did it.




At first, it was because of the Council. They wanted to see a display of ownership, because if Alex couldn’t behave then they didn’t want him walking around and spying on all the secrets in Lucifer’s castle.


It killed his pride but the only way to stay out of the cage was to crawl on hands and knees to Lucifer on his throne, in front of them all. To kiss his feet, and his hand – and, when Lucifer tugged on the leash, his ex-lover’s/monster’s/master’s lips.


What was pride compared to the threat of starvation, torture?


Alex did it.




At first, it was because of the taste. Lucifer had never given Alex a drop of his own blood before, had always brought it in bowls or cups from God only knew where. He’d taken it in his hands or his mouth to give to his pet vampire but it had never been his.


And then it was. Just. Four drops.


It killed his pride to do it but Alex had to get more, climbed into Lucifer’s lap without hesitation to press his mouth to the tiny cut on the other’s neck, to taste more of that liquid gold. Heavenly nectar, and molten fire, and it only felt right that Lucifer’s fingers should card through his hair and urge him on.


What was pride compared to that ecstasy?


Alex did it.




At first, it was because of the warmth. Alex was always freezing. He had the thirst and the powers but his body was still half human, was still transforming, and he could feel his own icy coldness. He curled up on window-seats to bathe in sunlight, pressed as close to the fireplaces as he could, wore as many layers as Lucifer would allow.


It got worse when he was thirsty. And Lucifer was always so much hotter than a human being.


He hadn’t been fed in two weeks and pride didn’t come into it when Lucifer offered him a chance to share the bed. It didn’t occur to him to protest when Lucifer’s hands stroked and caressed, leaving trails of burning fire. When his lips trailed over Alex’s marble-smooth, marble-cold neck.


What was pride compared to that warmth?


Alex did it.




At first, it was because he wanted to pay Lucifer back. Say thank you for the blood and the freedom, the sunlight and the taste and the warmth of his arms. To show him that he hadn’t made a mistake in giving Alex all of those things.


His pride twinged when he kissed Damian’s body without prompting. When he spread his legs and raised his hips for more, when he offered all of himself.


What was pride compared to the look in those silver eyes?


Alex did it.




At first, it was feeling so warm when Lucifer moved inside him that prompted him to do it again.


Then it was the starfire climax that Lucifer brought him to as a reward.


After that, it was the look on Damian’s face when he came. The comfort of falling asleep in arms that held him tight. The caress of invisible, immaterial feathers waking him in the morning. The golden smile Lucifer used to kiss him awake.


What was pride compared to that smile?




At first, it was because he was punished if he didn’t.


Then because he was ordered to.


After that, because he needed to.


Now, it’s because he wants to.




It was the two years of trust and devotion (punishment, obedience) that convinced Alex to follow Lucifer back down into the dungeons, to not turn and run from the darkest part of his broken memories.


It was the thousands of times he’d knelt before the throne in the Council chamber that made him lean over the table when ordered to. A thousand sweet kisses that kept him from flinching when Lucifer’s lips brushed his ear, almost hiding the hiss of heated metal.


A thousand bedroom games that made him scream instead of fighting back as forge-fire pressed into his spine. A thousand hands in the dark offering life(-blood) that put him back together when the white-hot metal pulled away and the fire had burned the snake-and-star into his back forever.


It was the voice that had become his world that coaxed him to accept the name kissed into his ear.




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