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arabwelMore Lordific. Just cause I can :D
Title: Mirrors
Author: Yours Truly
Rating. hard R
Pairings: Dima/Awa, implied Lordi/Dima, Lordi/Dima/Awa
Summary: Reflections don't always come from mirrors.
Warnings: graphic sex, duh
A/N: Part of the Toys series; follows Promise.
The mirrors in the dressing room helped him see his back clearly; with morbid fascination mixed with something resembling pride, Dima bit his lip as he reached to run a hand over some of the marks.
Thin stripes, white and pink, crisscrossed his back; scars from his first encounter with Lordi’s whip, an encounter he hoped would not be the last… he had loved the feel of it so, even if he had been bedridden for two days afterwards. Hell, he would probably still have a back full of bleeding, barely-healed lash marks if not for Awa’s magic… it had been so wrong and yet felt so right, so worth every mark when it shouldn’t have…
Dima smiled ruefully, touching the marks on his chest. Lordi’s claws had left scars, too; four thin stripes running down his chest. The memory of his sire’s tongue lapping at the blood welling in the wounds made him shiver, closing his eyes.
“Dima?”
Startled, Dima spun around to face the speaker. It was Yelena, his personal assistant, standing at the doorway her eyes wide. “What is it?”
”Your back,” she stammered, “oh God what’s happened to you?”
”That’s none of your business!” Dima snarled, harsher than he’d intended. “What are you doing here?”
”I... you have to be at the studio in thirty minutes,” she said, unable to tear her eyes from him; Dima felt anger rising in him as he reached for the shirt he’d tossed over the back of a chair. How dare she?
”I will be ready in five,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Now get out!”
Yelena fled, leaving Dima alone, anger still welling up within him as he began to button the black shirt. She shouldn’t have intruded on him like that, not when he was busy with his thoughts….
The fact that his hand was clenched into a fist startled him; had he been thinking of actually hitting Yelena? Sweet, helpful Yelena?
Dima shuddered, suddenly cold. He was just nervous and agitated, that was it… the new video would make or break his career outside Russia, and the stress was getting to him... the stress and the fact that it had been days since he’d last even caught a glimpse of Awa or her liege.
**
“Okay guys, let’s have a break!”
Dima sighed gratefully as the director called out and let go off the cold metal pole he’d been gripping, turning to lean his forehead against it. After four hours of shooting, he was sore all over, his anger forgotten as determination and exhaustion had taken him over.
“Here’s water,” Yelena said softly as she came to him, holding out a bottle. “Do you want something else to drink?”
He wanted to tell her to get him a shot or two of vodka, but he was too much of a professional to do so; he was going too get through this, and then…well, maybe not even then. Maybe he would have a visitor…
“No,” he shook his head, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink form the bottle. “Maybe later.”
The shoot continued, and Dima concentrated on what he was doing; everything went fine until something snapped and with a sound of crashing metal and breaking glass, part of the set came down.
Dima felt a sharp flash of pain on his wrist and swore, stumbling away; He watched with something resembling detachment as around him, everyone exploded into a flurry of action, dealing with the broken set.
He felt a trickle of blood on his hand and frowned, raising his hand to look; there was a long gash on top of his wrist, blood slowly seeping from it.
Without thinking he lifted his wrist to his lips and ran his tongue over it, the blood hot and salty on his tongue. He didn’t notice the looks given to him, some incredulous, some confused, some even appalled.
”Dima!” he heard Yelena cry out. “You’re bleeding!”
He blinked, lowering his hand. “And?”
”It looks bad, Dima, I think it needs to be looked at!” Yelena’s blue eyes were wide with fright and worry and Dima felt a little stab of worry.
”If you think so,” he said, shrugging. He didn’t think the wound was that bad… she shouldn’t fret like that.
Apparently Yelena was not the only one to think the wound was bad; Dima found himself sitting still as a doctor stitched the wound, her small fingers surprisingly swift and delicate.
She’d put aesthetic on his hand and he almost couldn’t feel the needle at all – it was a disconcerting feeling and he was rather certain he would have preferred the pain…
“There, as good as new.”
**
Yelena was very, very worried.
Something was wrong with Dima, she knew it – she could feel it, deep inside her. Those strange marks on his back that looked like they had been there for months, nay, years, that had not been there two weeks ago, the way he had just shrugged at a wound that had taken eight stitches, licking at the blood…
Yelena shuddered at the memory. They’d gone to dinner afterwards, and she’d been shocked again... Dima had never really been one to eat much meat, but now, he’d ordered a steak, raw, and practically devoured it. Somehow, that had been… creepier than what had happened before.
She bit her lip as she approached the door of his suite. She knew she shouldn’t intrude on him like this but she needed to talk to him, find out what was going on. He had been so mellow when they had parted, that maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t just tell her to get out like he had that morning…
The door slid open quietly, and the blonde stepped into he suite. The lights were off, but she could hear voices. Dima’s voice, from within. Not knowing why, she began to slowly move along the short corridor, hoping to remain unheard until she saw whom he was talking to…
When she peeked through the open door, she gasped.
Dima was seated on the sofa, his shirt open, revealing long scars on his chest. His head was thrown back, his mouth parted and from his lips spilled words of encouragement to the woman kneeling on the floor… the woman that Yelena could not be mistaken of – it was the keyboardist of that blasted band that had stolen Dima his victory! Wearing that horrifying costume, she was…
Oh God, she was sucking on the wound on Dima’s wrist! Yelena could see blood disappear between the ashen lips, could hear Dima moan in encouragement as she began to kiss her way up his arm, stretching sinuously as she rose to straddle him…
What was she doing to him?
**
Awa leaned in to kiss Dima gently on the lips. “We have company,” she breathed just loud enough for him to hear.
Dima blinked. “We do?” he whispered equally quietly.
“Yes, your little blonde friend… is watching,” Awa moaned, her back arching as Dima’s hands trailed over her body, to grasp her hips and pull her down… the proof of his desire was clear even through the thick fabric of his jeans.
“Yelena?” Dima seemed surprised, but there was a wicked glint in his eyes. “Let her watch… I don’t care.”
Awa’s surprise was lost in the hungry kiss he bestowed on her, his hand coming to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back almost painfully. She moaned again, her hands coming to clutch his shoulders, her claws biting into his pale skin hard enough to break it.
“Ohh yes… “ Dima hissed as his hand tugged in her hair, pulling her towards his shoulder; Awa obeyed gladly, her lips fastening on the wounds she’d inflicted as she pushed his shirt rest of the way off. His blood tasted so very sweet and she could not help but moan…
She whimpered when his hand sneaked between their bodies, to free himself. Her skirts pooling around them she sank down on him, the feel of him so suddenly within her sending fire through her spine.
“You feel so good,” he murmured, his grip of her hair tightening, pulling her head back.
Awa whimpered when his teeth found her neck, biting down hard, she felt blood well up in the wound, his tongue lapping at it, growling low in his throat.
She rocked against him, her hands clutching him, her body slowly swept with the pleasure of his touch, his hand roughly cupping her breast through the fabric of her dress and rubbing down, his teeth nipping at her neck, his hand in her hair….
Awa came with a choked cry, writhing in Dima’s grip.
**
Dima groaned as he felt Awa tighten around him, her cool body throbbing with her release. He couldn’t help it; his teeth sinking into her neck he followed her, white-hot pleasure washing over him as he came deep within her body.
He slumped against the backrest of the couch, pulling her prone body against his; he’d missed her so much…
It was only when he heard the small gasp from across the room that he remembered that they’d had an audience… sweet Yelena was still standing on the other side of the door, peeking through the gap…. Dima laughed. It had felt good, spurred him on to know that she was watching…. He didn’t know why, but he liked the feeling.
”Like what you see, Yelena?” He called out, his voice almost a purr.
There was no response, other than quick steps and a slamming door.
“I think I scared her away,” he mock-pouted at Awa who was looking at him with serene golden eyes.
-
“Why did you want her to watch, sweetling?” She asked, tilting her head,.
Dima shrugged, his shoulders stinging as he did so. “Why not?”
**
What is wrong with him?
The thought screamed through Yelena’s head as she stumbled through the corridors to her room. Her hands shaking, it took her several tries to insert the key card and get the door open as images of what she’d witnessed filled her mind.
Dima had fucked the girl in the monster dress, he’d let her scratch him and lick his blood, he’d bitten her and done the same to her… and he’d known Yelena was watching!
She shuddered as the door slammed shut behind her. She didn’t see where she was going her shin hitting the edge of a low table painfully and she collapsed on her knees.
What is wrong with him?
When he was not on camera, Dima was such a shy, sweet boy…. He’d confessed to her that he’d been eighteen before he’d even kissed a girl, and that he was nowhere near as experienced or brazen as his public image made people think... and now he’d been... Oh God, he’d let her watch him with that woman!
She shivered, pulling her knees against her chest and closing her eyes. She could see him still, his head thrown back in abandon, those scars on his chest and back…. scars she had no explanation for. What had he gotten himself into?
Still trembling, Yelena began to cry.
Title: Mirrors
Author: Yours Truly
Rating. hard R
Pairings: Dima/Awa, implied Lordi/Dima, Lordi/Dima/Awa
Summary: Reflections don't always come from mirrors.
Warnings: graphic sex, duh
A/N: Part of the Toys series; follows Promise.
The mirrors in the dressing room helped him see his back clearly; with morbid fascination mixed with something resembling pride, Dima bit his lip as he reached to run a hand over some of the marks.
Thin stripes, white and pink, crisscrossed his back; scars from his first encounter with Lordi’s whip, an encounter he hoped would not be the last… he had loved the feel of it so, even if he had been bedridden for two days afterwards. Hell, he would probably still have a back full of bleeding, barely-healed lash marks if not for Awa’s magic… it had been so wrong and yet felt so right, so worth every mark when it shouldn’t have…
Dima smiled ruefully, touching the marks on his chest. Lordi’s claws had left scars, too; four thin stripes running down his chest. The memory of his sire’s tongue lapping at the blood welling in the wounds made him shiver, closing his eyes.
“Dima?”
Startled, Dima spun around to face the speaker. It was Yelena, his personal assistant, standing at the doorway her eyes wide. “What is it?”
”Your back,” she stammered, “oh God what’s happened to you?”
”That’s none of your business!” Dima snarled, harsher than he’d intended. “What are you doing here?”
”I... you have to be at the studio in thirty minutes,” she said, unable to tear her eyes from him; Dima felt anger rising in him as he reached for the shirt he’d tossed over the back of a chair. How dare she?
”I will be ready in five,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Now get out!”
Yelena fled, leaving Dima alone, anger still welling up within him as he began to button the black shirt. She shouldn’t have intruded on him like that, not when he was busy with his thoughts….
The fact that his hand was clenched into a fist startled him; had he been thinking of actually hitting Yelena? Sweet, helpful Yelena?
Dima shuddered, suddenly cold. He was just nervous and agitated, that was it… the new video would make or break his career outside Russia, and the stress was getting to him... the stress and the fact that it had been days since he’d last even caught a glimpse of Awa or her liege.
**
“Okay guys, let’s have a break!”
Dima sighed gratefully as the director called out and let go off the cold metal pole he’d been gripping, turning to lean his forehead against it. After four hours of shooting, he was sore all over, his anger forgotten as determination and exhaustion had taken him over.
“Here’s water,” Yelena said softly as she came to him, holding out a bottle. “Do you want something else to drink?”
He wanted to tell her to get him a shot or two of vodka, but he was too much of a professional to do so; he was going too get through this, and then…well, maybe not even then. Maybe he would have a visitor…
“No,” he shook his head, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink form the bottle. “Maybe later.”
The shoot continued, and Dima concentrated on what he was doing; everything went fine until something snapped and with a sound of crashing metal and breaking glass, part of the set came down.
Dima felt a sharp flash of pain on his wrist and swore, stumbling away; He watched with something resembling detachment as around him, everyone exploded into a flurry of action, dealing with the broken set.
He felt a trickle of blood on his hand and frowned, raising his hand to look; there was a long gash on top of his wrist, blood slowly seeping from it.
Without thinking he lifted his wrist to his lips and ran his tongue over it, the blood hot and salty on his tongue. He didn’t notice the looks given to him, some incredulous, some confused, some even appalled.
”Dima!” he heard Yelena cry out. “You’re bleeding!”
He blinked, lowering his hand. “And?”
”It looks bad, Dima, I think it needs to be looked at!” Yelena’s blue eyes were wide with fright and worry and Dima felt a little stab of worry.
”If you think so,” he said, shrugging. He didn’t think the wound was that bad… she shouldn’t fret like that.
Apparently Yelena was not the only one to think the wound was bad; Dima found himself sitting still as a doctor stitched the wound, her small fingers surprisingly swift and delicate.
She’d put aesthetic on his hand and he almost couldn’t feel the needle at all – it was a disconcerting feeling and he was rather certain he would have preferred the pain…
“There, as good as new.”
**
Yelena was very, very worried.
Something was wrong with Dima, she knew it – she could feel it, deep inside her. Those strange marks on his back that looked like they had been there for months, nay, years, that had not been there two weeks ago, the way he had just shrugged at a wound that had taken eight stitches, licking at the blood…
Yelena shuddered at the memory. They’d gone to dinner afterwards, and she’d been shocked again... Dima had never really been one to eat much meat, but now, he’d ordered a steak, raw, and practically devoured it. Somehow, that had been… creepier than what had happened before.
She bit her lip as she approached the door of his suite. She knew she shouldn’t intrude on him like this but she needed to talk to him, find out what was going on. He had been so mellow when they had parted, that maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t just tell her to get out like he had that morning…
The door slid open quietly, and the blonde stepped into he suite. The lights were off, but she could hear voices. Dima’s voice, from within. Not knowing why, she began to slowly move along the short corridor, hoping to remain unheard until she saw whom he was talking to…
When she peeked through the open door, she gasped.
Dima was seated on the sofa, his shirt open, revealing long scars on his chest. His head was thrown back, his mouth parted and from his lips spilled words of encouragement to the woman kneeling on the floor… the woman that Yelena could not be mistaken of – it was the keyboardist of that blasted band that had stolen Dima his victory! Wearing that horrifying costume, she was…
Oh God, she was sucking on the wound on Dima’s wrist! Yelena could see blood disappear between the ashen lips, could hear Dima moan in encouragement as she began to kiss her way up his arm, stretching sinuously as she rose to straddle him…
What was she doing to him?
**
Awa leaned in to kiss Dima gently on the lips. “We have company,” she breathed just loud enough for him to hear.
Dima blinked. “We do?” he whispered equally quietly.
“Yes, your little blonde friend… is watching,” Awa moaned, her back arching as Dima’s hands trailed over her body, to grasp her hips and pull her down… the proof of his desire was clear even through the thick fabric of his jeans.
“Yelena?” Dima seemed surprised, but there was a wicked glint in his eyes. “Let her watch… I don’t care.”
Awa’s surprise was lost in the hungry kiss he bestowed on her, his hand coming to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back almost painfully. She moaned again, her hands coming to clutch his shoulders, her claws biting into his pale skin hard enough to break it.
“Ohh yes… “ Dima hissed as his hand tugged in her hair, pulling her towards his shoulder; Awa obeyed gladly, her lips fastening on the wounds she’d inflicted as she pushed his shirt rest of the way off. His blood tasted so very sweet and she could not help but moan…
She whimpered when his hand sneaked between their bodies, to free himself. Her skirts pooling around them she sank down on him, the feel of him so suddenly within her sending fire through her spine.
“You feel so good,” he murmured, his grip of her hair tightening, pulling her head back.
Awa whimpered when his teeth found her neck, biting down hard, she felt blood well up in the wound, his tongue lapping at it, growling low in his throat.
She rocked against him, her hands clutching him, her body slowly swept with the pleasure of his touch, his hand roughly cupping her breast through the fabric of her dress and rubbing down, his teeth nipping at her neck, his hand in her hair….
Awa came with a choked cry, writhing in Dima’s grip.
**
Dima groaned as he felt Awa tighten around him, her cool body throbbing with her release. He couldn’t help it; his teeth sinking into her neck he followed her, white-hot pleasure washing over him as he came deep within her body.
He slumped against the backrest of the couch, pulling her prone body against his; he’d missed her so much…
It was only when he heard the small gasp from across the room that he remembered that they’d had an audience… sweet Yelena was still standing on the other side of the door, peeking through the gap…. Dima laughed. It had felt good, spurred him on to know that she was watching…. He didn’t know why, but he liked the feeling.
”Like what you see, Yelena?” He called out, his voice almost a purr.
There was no response, other than quick steps and a slamming door.
“I think I scared her away,” he mock-pouted at Awa who was looking at him with serene golden eyes.
-
“Why did you want her to watch, sweetling?” She asked, tilting her head,.
Dima shrugged, his shoulders stinging as he did so. “Why not?”
**
What is wrong with him?
The thought screamed through Yelena’s head as she stumbled through the corridors to her room. Her hands shaking, it took her several tries to insert the key card and get the door open as images of what she’d witnessed filled her mind.
Dima had fucked the girl in the monster dress, he’d let her scratch him and lick his blood, he’d bitten her and done the same to her… and he’d known Yelena was watching!
She shuddered as the door slammed shut behind her. She didn’t see where she was going her shin hitting the edge of a low table painfully and she collapsed on her knees.
What is wrong with him?
When he was not on camera, Dima was such a shy, sweet boy…. He’d confessed to her that he’d been eighteen before he’d even kissed a girl, and that he was nowhere near as experienced or brazen as his public image made people think... and now he’d been... Oh God, he’d let her watch him with that woman!
She shivered, pulling her knees against her chest and closing her eyes. She could see him still, his head thrown back in abandon, those scars on his chest and back…. scars she had no explanation for. What had he gotten himself into?
Still trembling, Yelena began to cry.
