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Post by Ruby on Jan 16, 2013 20:56:02 GMT -5
Freezing. It was the first coherent thought her mind brought to her, and it was quickly followed by the warmth pressed against the length of her body, and she moaned softly, curling further into the delicious heat and further away from the biting sting of morning. Desperately she fought against her rousing mind and willed herself to return to slumber. She was comfortable among his luxurious bedding and her lovers bare flesh felt amazing against her back and fought against the goose bumps that had broken out across her flesh. She moaned softly, turning around and burying her face in her lovers chest, willing the morning to let her be to no avail.
She stretched only slightly and smiled at the familiar burn between her thighs. They seemed to have...trouble, not winding up tangled around one another whenever they chanced to meet. They had sexual chemistry, they may not have a great deal else, but a mutual understanding seemed to have passed between them. He came to her to abuse her body and she came to him for no less. It worked well, they were compatible in bed to a sinfully delicious scale. She knew the contours of his body, knew what pleased him and what didn't and he knew hers. He could play her body like a finely tuned instrument and could have her singing with just a touch... but Ruby frowned against his skin.
She liked Dorian. More than she should. She did not understand the extent of his curse, but she understood that love was beyond his grasp. She did not love Dorian, at least not yet, but she liked him. She liked the way he dominated her, she loved when he refused to give her, her control. She loved his easy banter and his seemingly careless demeanor. He brought a whole new shade of color to her world... but she knew not what she did for him. Was she simply another of his conquests, an object of pleasure to be used at will? If she liked him anymore it could prove deadly to her.
With the grace and stealth only the wolf provided her, she slipped from his caged embrace and scampered out of his bedroom. She bothered little with clothing, his mansion was immaculate but never had she seen a servant, and it's not like he hadn't ever seen her body. He had explored every contour with lips teeth and tongue at one point or another. The hallways were long and dark and the rooms varied, she had seen few, usually only making it to whatever happened to be closest before one of them snapped and lost control which, on average, took only a few minutes. Dorian was an addiction.
She pushed open one of the final rooms and glanced around, disappearing within its depths. A large desk filled with scattered writings, journals, books, tomes, a study perhaps? How curious. She vanished inside the room, running her fingers over the thick books until she chanced upon something large and covered. Bound with ropes and covered in a large canvas. She gnawed her bottom lip, and slowly undid the bindings, the canvas slumped to the floor with a soft whoosh and the figure in the portrait brought a hand up to her face and she leapt back in shock. It reached out to grab her, touching a lock of her hair as she jumped backwards. It hissed and snarled, growling and heaving. Maggots and decay covered the poor beast within its confines... this was what Dorian had eluded too, this was his sin, trapped in a physical form and perhaps it was her morbid curiosity but slowly, unsure, she reached out to touch it, just as the demon reached out to touch her...
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Post by Dorian Gray on Jan 16, 2013 21:59:25 GMT -5
It was early when Dorian felt his mind trying to awaken him, but he let his body fight it. He did not want to waken, to feel the burn of the morning, when he knew he would have to leave his lover with pathetic pleas of callousness and find a way to spend his day. He fought it as long as he could, ever growing more concious, but when he reached over to find the body of his lover, he came up empty. He sat up immediately, hitting his head on the headboard.
He rubbed it as he looked around, realizing how sore he was from his night with Ruby, and propped himself up with his arm on a pillow. Where the hell had she gone? Lover she might have been but that did not give her reign of his house; he did not need her snooping about his house for those... things that she did not see.
He laid down again for a second, smelling her on the pillows, on the sheets, and sighed. He needed to go find her. He stood up, taking his time to untangle from the sheets and drag his legs over the side of the matress. He stepped out, pulled on a loose and worn pair of non-dress pants, wary that he might have to venture outside or away from his estate to find her. He got out of his room, head still spinning, and ventured down dark hallways listening for anything that might let him know whereto Ruby had gotten.
He checked this room and that, hoping with every empty room that she'd be just around the corner. But she was not on his divan, she was not in his washroom, and she was not in his bed. Where the hell was Ruby?
He began to panic as he approached his study, remembering what he thought he not locking it the night before, and his step quickened. The door he pushed open quickly, and glanced around. It did not take long for him to see the figure afront the most secretive possession he had. "Ruby!" he screamed as he watched his painting reach out for her. His voice bellowed through the hallways of his manor, and he hoped to scare the hell out of her.
Dorian rushed to where she was and tackled her to the floor away from his soul.
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Post by Ruby on Jan 17, 2013 14:46:02 GMT -5
She was memorized, bewitched, and captivated by this screeching beast, every thought, memory, and ounce of intelligent coherency dropped from her mind like lead weights. It beckoned to her, called to her, and whether out of fear or anticipation fueled her she cared little as it rose to touch her. It was screaming but they were not screams of rage, at least not all of them. They were screams of a dying man, screams of anguish, screams of sorrow, screams of fury and they drowned her, diluted her in their pain and all she wanted was for it to stop. Nothing should hurt as bad as this creature, nothing deserved such agony, not even Regina, but she didn't know how to fix it and she couldn't look away, she could only edge closer.
Her fingers twitched, mere inches from the monsters own, rotting and decayed, bare bone covered in maggots reached for her own hand but even then she thought not to pull away. A thunderous roar, a scream, a screech of something caused her entire body to jump, but still her eyes did not leave the portrait or the fingers that were close enough to stroke her own. Ruby? What is that? Isn't that...my name? Her mind barely had time to process that vital piece of information and feel the sharp bone scrap against her flesh, before she roughly and rather abruptly thrown to the ground.
The spell, whatever had overcome her, was shattered and as her bare body slammed into the ground, the air vacated her lungs in a startled wheeze. She coughed a few times, green eyes wild and seeking the source of the sudden pain along her side, but the weight was heavy and full and she could scarcely move beneath it. Disoriented and bewildered her gaze caught a glimpse of onyx and a flash of pale skin.
"D-dorian?" Her mind was still scrambled, still on that horrific painting and the spell it had cast upon her. She couldn't remember where she was or how she had gotten here, but she could still hear the screams, those agony filled screams and she could feel gentle tears brimming the corners of her eyes. So much pain, so much hurt... how could one even deal with such things?
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Post by Dorian Gray on Jan 17, 2013 17:48:15 GMT -5
Dorian had slept restlessly that night, always checking to make sure that Ruby was beside him and wrapping himself around her. She was probably the closest to love that he could ever dare to go; she was one of the few that he'd accosted more than once. No--there was Sibyl Vane, that gorgeous, darling.... no, no, no. He dare not. He had been the reason Sibyl was dead... His once fiancee. Poor, poor girl.
He did not think of her as he searched his house. All he thought of was what he would have to do if Ruby found his soul, his painting. No one who had ever seen that painting had survived him and his rage, because that painting was the one thing in his life that he could not control. He was the captain of his life, but not of his soul. And it was the ugliest, most scarring thing that anyone could ever see: if it didn't kill them by fear, he would have to kill them himself. And now, thanks to his old friend Alan Campbell, he knew the wonders of acid and how it dissolved a body.
Oh, but he... he did not want to have to hurt Ruby! Why did she put him in such predicament? He... had... feelings for her. Not love. Just overwhelming lust. But she WAS there. And he was absolutely suffering for words. His actions were quick and impulsive, but he knew that there was nothing else he could have done. When he'd tackled her onto the floor, he stared into her eyes, frightened and afraid of what he might do to her.
She looked mesmerized, and he knew it was bad. That painting did terrible things to anyone's mind, even his and it was his soul. She had a faraway look in her eyes, and he found that in his hand he had a silver letter-opener from the table. He must have grabbed it when he went for her. Now it was poised over her heart, and his eyes were dark with danger, ire and disbelief, despite that she looked completely helpless. No one got away with that. But the more he looked at her, the more his breaths were jagged. She was so damn beautiful.
He closed his eyes and took several heavy breaths before opening them again. He was ready to kill her now.
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Post by Ruby on Jan 17, 2013 18:10:42 GMT -5
She felt disoriented and lost, but slowly her mind returned to her. She remembered meeting Dorian at the bar, she remembered the first the second... and the barrage of other times he had claimed her, she remembered how easily he took her monster, she remembered his own words about his own secrets, and more than anything she remembered the portrait. That portrait... it was the remnants of his soul, the hollow empty carcass, that Dorian himself did not display. Flawless perfection to match the gruesome remnants of his sins... if this was sin of pleasure, she shuddered to think of what her own reflected.
Now, Ruby understood, she could see why he could never love, those emotions he had forfeited for a life time's of pleasure and adultery. He had traded his mortal soul for pleasures untold. That...thing, that was Dorian... so who was the man above her, and why did she not care that his soul looked so grotesque? Why did she not care that this was the demon he had spoke of, that she had allowed to invade her body? And the answer hit her like a freight train. You stupid, stupid, girl. Her Granny's voice rung through her skull as fear blossomed in her chest, not because of the cold steel pressed into her heart, but because of her emotions. Love is the strongest power of them all.
"Dorian... Dorian.." She whispered his name, her gentle fingers tracing the lines, the contours of his face, such a revelation, such power behind it, she quivered at its power, both destructive and dangerous. "Dorian look at me. I am not some cruel bringer of death, nor will I harm you. I do not think any less of you, nor do I hate you. Dorian look at me, know that I do not lie. If you are going to end my life, at least look at me." She did not plead, nor beg for his forgiveness, what was done, was done, there was nothing she could do to change it. She did not deter the blade between her breasts, nor did she grab his arm, she merely stoked the skin along his face.
She supposed if she was to be killed by a blade, it was better to be wielded by a person that she loved, over a stranger whose only gain was to kill a monster.
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Post by Dorian Gray on Jan 17, 2013 18:32:12 GMT -5
Dorian watched Ruby's eyes with his teeth clenched and his heart beating out of his bare chest. He studied her and he wondered why it had to be her. He took so many lovers, but it had to be her who uncovered the painting in the early hours of the morning. Why her? He looked into her eyes and he saw something that was beyond his understanding. What was that emotion that she was revealing to him in her haze? Was she... no. No, no. She could never be. His mind raced yet his hand never moved from where it was.
She couldn't love him. No, because just now he could feel the memory of her on his body. Atop her as he was now, he ached to remember more--his body yearned to feel her, and yet he still wanted to kill her. His past precedented that he had to end her life now, that she could never live after seeing what he really was. His greatest fear had been once again realized, but why did it have to be Ruby? She'd found some niche in his mind, she wouldn't leave. And loveless though he was, she was the closest he would ever dare to come to love.
Now the choice was upon him, and the damn beauty was tempting him beyond Earthly care. She touched his face and he was paralyzed. He could not move away and he could not react. "Damn you, Ruby," he breathed. "You deserve something for this, I know. And I've never--never--let anyone live after seeing that. You can never think of me the same way. You've seen the depths of my soul and nothing will hinder that picture from haunting your every waking moment. Why shouldn't I kill you? It would be the most humane thing to do." He moved the blade up away from her breasts to her throat, paused, and then moved it up to her face.
He could not be good. Dorian took the sharp end and caressed her cheek with it, cutting in it a straight line and drawing blood. But then he dropped the thing, his eyes never leaving hers, and stared at her with the cruelest, most angry glare he had. "You're to stay here at this manor," he told her coldly, and moved himself from atop her.
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Post by Ruby on Jan 17, 2013 18:59:02 GMT -5
Ruby watched him, her attention completely removed from the portrait and seeking anything, everything within those dismal black orbs that held her captive. She was damned, damned yet again to the most fiery depths of hell for a curse she did not ask for, but had somehow managed to get plunged headfirst into. She loved him. She loved him for each and every one of hid damnable flaws because... because... he understood her. He knew how difficult life could be when you were forced to harbor a secret, no friends, no family, no mercy. None could be given and none could be taken. Even if he drove that blade through her heart she would not hate him, she wouldn't even blame him. She could throw him off of her, turn this game upon him, her wolf gave her the strength to save her life if she so choose. She could overpower him, destroy that painting and save countless innocents. But she couldn't move because she understood what it was like to be a monster, and even though it was that portrait that absorbed his guilt, his pain and not him... she couldn't move because she loved him. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip so hard it bled as she fought to keep such a powerful revelation in check.
Love is the most powerful magic.
His words were harsh and cold, but she said nothing, spoke nothing, even as the cruel steel sliced her flesh, she never looked away from his eyes, she never shied from that blackened gaze so full of hate and so full of malice. The only time she saw looks like that was when someone discovered her true nature, and it twisted her heart painfully, but then her mouth was moving spewing vile that she had no control over.
"I do not see the portrait when I look at you. I only see Dorian. The man who seduced me in a bar with casual conversation and clever wit, the man who made sure I was as pleasured as he, the man who helped me even though he had seen what kind of a monster I had become. When you look at me you don't see the demon I become, so why, why would I see any different in you?" Quick and fast, her words came, still soft and quiet, understanding he could kill her in a heartbeat, but then he was gone, his biting words coming back to her and she wondered why he hadn't killed her, he should have.
"Do you intend to keep me here forever?" Her voice was quiet and soft, still cautious, she sat up from her position on the floor, but made no movement to draw any closer to him. It was a miracle in itself that she was still breathing and she didn't want to move too quickly and have him change his mind.
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Post by Dorian Gray on Jan 17, 2013 19:51:13 GMT -5
Dorian was livid, was absolutely upset that she'd dared to do such a thing. Of course, he had it somewhere in the back of his mind to be irritated with himself for not locking the door but... She'd left him, when he'd been perfectly content holding her body to his. He could not handle to blame himself for anything. Much less, something of this grandeur. Could he blame Basil Hallworth, the artist? Nay, not anymore. Basil was long dead. He'd killed Basil.
His eyes were fixed on hers, unable to get across how much he hated what she'd done. It evaded his mind, how she would think to disbind and uncover something in a dark corner... curiosity was a strong thing, he knew. He didn't know what she could do; even if he struck her with his blade, could she still kill him too? But she didn't move. She was like a stone, her eyes full of something that was absolutely lost on Dorian, and his lips quivered in both anger and frustration. Damn her. She was too charming and she was too right. Not even when he drew red blood upon her face did she move.
That was when he knew he couldn't do it. He stood and couldn't yet find words to answer. He paced the study, tossing the veil back over the painting and cursing the state of his soul under his breath. Then he took out a book, put it back, and stopped pacing again when he was close to her. "I think," he began, face hard and eyes cold, "that that painting is the wickedest demon of them all. That you could not ever recover. It will not leave you, Ruby. You will have nightmares, you will fear for the destination of your own soul. Mine, as you've seen, resides in Hell. And no, I am no such man. I am a stone-cold killer, and the painting has told you so. I suppose that's punishment enough for you." He paced again, tracking circles.
"I intend to see to it that you keep your word, and in the meantime that I may only see of you what I want," he said as he paced, never making eye contact, his voice heartless and business-like. He returned to her, and picked her up in his arms. His body was stiff and he was bare from the waist up, but he no longer cared what she thought. She would do what he wanted her to do now, and she would prove to him that he'd done right in sparing her. Because even as he was devoid of a heart, Dorian had to care for something.
He carried her away, back to his chamber, and practically threw her on the bed. "I don't know why I spared you," he said icily.
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Post by Ruby on Jan 17, 2013 20:19:48 GMT -5
She watched him, propped up only on her forearms as he paced the room with something akin to destruction. She could feel his fury, she could taste it upon her tongue, the scent of it, brought shame to her and she allowed him to curse her. His words biting and cold, chipped away at her worse than the dagger could have ever done. She hung her head, knowing, realizing that this rage was all because of her, she was a problem, a wicked, horrible, nasty problem to everyone she met. It was her curse, her destruction, a god damned burden... Snow should have let her die, all of those years ago, when she had slaughtered her lover, Snow should have let the villagers claim her. It would be better than the destruction she caused even now. Her bottom lip trembled but she stubbornly bit the tears back.
"I do not care. Let the nightmares come, I have so many fears what is one or two more? I already come awake to the sound of my lover screaming, pleading with me not to kill him, have you not heard me when I have told you how many lives I have taken? My soul was damned long before I met you Dorian. Do not make me to be some innocent creature. You have no idea the power of which the wolf contains... and if you are a stone cold killer, why did you not kill me?" He had not seen the beast unleashed, he had not seen its deadly power. He only had what little she had told him. He knew not its delight of crunching through bone, and listening to the gurgled screams of its victims as canines plunged through lungs, crushing airways and collapsing lungs, he knew not how the beast had prolonged death just to hear the screams as it slurped down a meal. But then he had lifted her, and she was a slave to his whims. He could never know the power he held over her, and she hid her face from his prying eyes. She didn't want to see such hatred anymore, not directed at her.
"I have never lied to you Dorian, and what would it gain me now." She murmured so softly she wondered if he even heard her, and like a rag doll, he tossed her onto the still warm bed and his words bit and stung, chewing away at her just a little bit more, she was to be his slave. Available at his every beck and call. She did not move from the place he had thrown her, and instead fought to bury useless emotions. Such things would not help her here.
"And what is it you want of me?" Her voice never lost that soft vulnerability. She knew the answer but she wanted to hear it, to have him drive the nail in the coffin. Completely compliant to his every whim, he could do with her what he liked. She made no effort to move. Masochist indeed.
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Post by Dorian Gray on Jan 17, 2013 20:40:26 GMT -5
Dorian took her down the empty corridors with no words and only thoughts resounding like screams in his mind. Just a moment ago, he'd actually gotten a good look at the painting. It was aged, it was atrocious, and he had noticed the most obvious recent difference: a jagged, bleeding wound had been added at his neck. He knew what it meant, he knew what it was for. But the blood was never really on his hands anymore. His mind had been erased and re-erased at the cost of his eternal soul. He belonged in Hell.
As he dropped her callously onto his bed, he turned his back to her. Anger still raged in his eyes but there was something in him, or about her, that made him feel as though anger was not the right thing now. He knew her secret, and yes, maybe it was fair, but he had not disclosed his temper in a long time and all of those bottled-up emotions were not being released. Of all people, she had to make him angry.
Why did he keep thinking this? Why was he so attached to her? God damn, he could not keep his mind or his body from her, and it was all he could do to keep his hands off of her gorgeous form right now. But what he hated the most was that she was absolutely right. He failed to admit it, and he never would. But she was right. "Our nightmares shall twine, then, Ruby," he said more calmly, turning to face her. Ire still laced his voice but it was much more subdued. "I suppose I will let you understand what Hell with me will be like. I cannot contradict you, else you bring forth your own demons. We are cursed people, Ruby. And we were meant for the depths of Hades." His wicked eyes glowed like embers.
He'd ignored her whisper. He didn't want to answer.
"I want to hurt you," he said, raising his voice and passions, "like you've hurt me." He lunged for the bed, was going to let go his control, but he was stopped when he touched her. Instead, he found himself sitting and taking her in his arms, showering the gentlest of kisses he could fathom upon her and wanting to know that she didn't hate him.
Was this what everyone called forgiveness? It was something that Dorian should never have felt; it was a bitter and nasty herb.
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Post by Ruby on Jan 17, 2013 21:14:43 GMT -5
She remained still, motionless, naught more than a hollow corpse, even her eyes fogged over as she was lost within her mind. The wolf demanded its freedom, accused Ruby of betraying them both. Ruby's soul belonged to her own demon, and that she would regret giving away such a vital organ as her heart. Her own demon revolted against her, screaming its displeasure, trapped within the parameters of her mind. It thrashed and howled, traitor, thief, trickster, horrible, nasty, filthy names... it was rare the wolf dragged her down into her psyche to spew its venom at her, but the thought of being imprisoned, trapped within this house had awoken its fury. Red accepted the demons hatred just as she had accepted Dorian's. Red felt too distant, her soul being ripped in separate directions, it was killing her, and the wolf only increased her pain.
It was Dorian's bitter words that brought her back to reality. They were much calmer now, not nearly as hate filled but still filled with anxiousness and irritation. Ruby blinked, her vision slowly swirling back into focus, and on shaking limbs she propped herself up, fighting against the wolfs attempts to drag her back down. She felt horrible, lower even then when she had killed Peter. She had not only betrayed Dorian, but she had betrayed herself as well and as she wasn't sure which infraction hurt her worse. She couldn't breathe. Too much pressure, too much pain. How could a nightmare be any worse than this? He lunged for her, his stride changing suddenly and violently. She had all of the strength of the werewolf but none of the will to use it, and she let her eyes flutter shut, he had changed his mind, he would kill her and she would let him.
"I would deserve no less." She murmured just as soft as the sound of a butterfly. and only when she could feel his hands on her flesh, and his bodies heat touching her own did she open his eyes. Even if they were filled with hatred and anger, she wanted to see those onyx orbs as he killed her. She didn't want her last vision to be of the monster that possessed her, she would much rather own his hatred than its, but Dorian's movements were slow... and far too gentle to ever be called murderous in their intent. He moved until he was sitting and he picked her up again as if she was made of glass, and pulled her into his lap and she trembled, muscles convulsing under the gentleness of the actions. Kisses, tens, hundreds, thousands, did it matter anymore? Rained upon her face and water leaked for her eyes against her wishes.
"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry." Barely a whimper, but it escaped in a fast rush. She had never meant to anger him, in fact it was the farthest thing from her mind, she hadn't even meant to find the damned thing, and if she had known the pain it would cause him, she never would have left his embrace in the first place. It didn't bother her, but it clearly bothered him and she doubted he would ever trust her again.
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Post by Dorian Gray on Jan 18, 2013 12:06:50 GMT -5
As Dorian tried to regain his temper and his composure, he understood how caught he was by emotions that he was certain he was not supposed to have. Never before had anyone awakened any sort of feelings in him, and Dorian had been quite sure that the painting was what disabled him from having emotions. Now, it seemed, that was not so. It seemed that he was guarding himself from emotions merely because he was aware of the hideousness of his soul and the fact that he was always prone to violence and a temper. He was a killer and it did not do him any excess harm to hurt others. Was it this fear of himself that kept him from emotion?
When he turned back to Ruby, he was not so mad at her, but he was still and for different reasons. Now he was angry that she'd done something to make him insecure, to make him feel things that he did not want running through his mind, heart, or body. And could she help it? No. Was she the same way--he hoped so. He hoped the wolf that she was sometimes kept her from being able to feel things either, so that... so that they might still be together without the binds of love or emotion. "We'll both live in my Hell now, won't we? And in yours." his cold voice was distant.
Her words felt like they cut him. Yes, he was angry, and he really did feel the power and contempt in his body rising to do her harm. But something brought him down, something caused him not to hurt her when he felt the warmth of her skin, saw the innocence of her eyes.
He dropped his mouth to her face and kissed her all over until his lips were numb and he was quite sure her face was, also. Her apologies fell on deaf ears as he did not want to hear them. He just wanted an outlet for his emotions, and Ruby was not that outlet. He was going to have his way with her again, but now he could not bring himself to do it. "Ruby, you've damned me more than any other woman," he whispered. "and yet I cannot bring myself to hurt you."
He sighed and met her lips.
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Post by Ruby on Jan 18, 2013 14:20:30 GMT -5
She ceased her tears, she was not usually so weak to cry, she could count the instances on one hand, but she felt so useless... so weak... neither were emotions she felt ever. Even in her human state she had increased senses, physical strength, healing, sight, smell. She had never felt weak before, because even in the most hopeless of situations she had the beast to fall back on, but she had no strength about her heart and Dorian had seen to that. With every cold and calloused word he spoke, he squeezed the poor organ just a little tighter, forcing it to crack and making it difficult to breathe, but she took it, she let him vent his anger and never once did she refuse him. A puppet to its master and nothing more. She had wounded him enough as it was... how could she even think of throwing salt in the wound?
His kisses were pinpricks of sensation, each one, had the nerves tingling. Spikes of pleasure and pain both. Pleasure from how delicate they were placed, pain because she knew not if he would suddenly decide to kill her and still he did not cease, even after her vision had cleared and she saw nothing but the raging storm of onyx that seemed to flicker through so many emotions, so fast, she could not even begin to try to understand them, but still she watched, watched and waited. He never stopped, not until she had quite lost sensation in her cheeks, and her nose and her forehead, and only when she was sure she would die here, under a barrage of such gentle affections, did he pull away, and never once did she look away from his eyes.
His words were soft and quiet, his anger momentarily desipitated and even with her sensitive hearing she almost hadn't heard him. She opened her mouth to speak, but never got the chance. He pressed his mouth to hers and Red gave into him, she shifted in his hold only slightly so she could slide both arms around his middle and lace them with the hair she loved so much to play with.
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