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It seemed appropriate!
...I think Nietzsche is the the only person to appear in this fic so far who is entirely an OC, but I have a firm belief that Hendricks has a flourishing social life outside his boss's mobile cloud of chaos, so it all works out.
...I think Nietzsche is the the only person to appear in this fic so far who is entirely an OC, but I have a firm belief that Hendricks has a flourishing social life outside his boss's mobile cloud of chaos, so it all works out.
So glad it sort of makes sense now!
Well, Marcone's queen is rising too. I figured that was the last justification he needed to give in. ;) (That, and the dark suspicion that Harry would be incompetent to manage on his own...)
I hadn't really thought about it much either, but it is all coming back like I never left. The issues dovetail so well with DF's issues... it's like Pern is a woman's version of the world Harry thinks he lives in.
I'm seeing a lot of comments but no fills. So, yeah, here we go:
+
The interrogation room was like most interrogation rooms - sturdy metal table, single bright light overhead, two heavy metal-and-plastic chairs, a single door, and a two-way mirror.
Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed impatiently.
"Got somewhere to be?" the agent asked, sneering.
"Not anymore," Harry shrugged. He was late enough that Marcone would worry. He didn't miss their dates anymore, not unless it was life or death - or someone managed to kidnap him, like the agents had essentially done.
"A few years ago you were...not exactly a model citizen, but on the right track. You paid your bills eventually, you helped the police solve the weirdo crimes. You had all kinds of vehicle citations, but that's hardly a big deal. Then you start getting spotted with Marcone. And then you start getting implicated in much more serious crimes - murders, arsons with fatalities, disappearances...it looks pretty bad."
"It looks like you're grasping at straws," Harry said with a tight smile.
"Marcone is a monster. You hang out with the devil and you start acting like a demon, Dresden. But it's not too late. You can still do the right thing."
Harry sputtered with laughter. "What, wear a wire?"
"Something like that."
"I'm not interested in having the government listening in on my conversations," Harry said flatly.
"We're not interested in your conversations. We're interested in Marcone's."
"The only business we talk about is protecting Chicago, which I do proactively, not reactively."
"What else do you talk about, then?" came the innocent follow-up question.
"Sports," Harry lied with a toothy grin.
"...Don't insult my intelligence."
"Don't ask questions you know I'm not gonna answer. By the way, you have no right to keep me here without a charge, and you have no charges or even reasonable suspicion. If you did, I'd have a lawyer or you'd be in really deep shit."
The agent threw a folder down. Harry glanced at it curiously but didn't touch it.
"Go ahead. Take a good look."
Harry flipped the file open. A happy little family photo was clipped to a crime scene picture, showing the eviscerated corpse of the man in the family. His stomach flipped, and he turned away.
"What, delicate constitution? This is what Marcone does," the agent snapped, shoving the file at Harry. "Look at it!" He turned to the next set of photos - a guy playing with his daughter, and then the guy with his throat slit.
They were almost all like that, the juxtaposition of the man with his family and the man, dead. The last three, though, were women. Harry shoved away from the table and out of the agent's reach.
"I don't know anything about that stuff! And you can't prove it, or you'd have locked him up!"
"No, we can't prove it! But we know it's him, just like you know it's him. And you can help us put him behind bars, Dresden. You can make the streets safer."
That wasn't right. Harry glared at the agent. "Who were those people?" he deflected.
The agent started talking about their families, but Harry waved a hand dismissively.
"Everyone has a father, and a lot of people who don't deserve children have those, too. What did they do?" Harry pushed, moving back into the agent's space, using his height to physically intimidate.
He heard the euphemisms and dismissed them immediately. They weren't on the average citizen side of the law.
"You wanna talk about making the streets safer? Since Vargassi disappeared, you know what the crime rate has been in Chicago? About a 60% reduction from when Vargassi headed the Outfit. That wasn't the bloated, useless cops at work, and it sure as hell wasn't the FBI. Violent crime in particular is way down, and gangs no longer recruit minors in any large amount. Minors are also ten times less likely to be the victim of a violent crime now than they were ten years ago. That's making the streets safe, agent. You should find a new tactic."
He shoved his way out of the room, hearing the lightbulb pop and shower glass on the floor, not caring a whit about it. He was certainly unhappy with the images, but he didn't know what to tell or ask Marcone. He feared the truth would be the worst answer he could receive, or that Marcone would lie to keep him close.
Harry got into his car and took a deep breath. Driving angry was a surefire way to break his car. He'd talk to Marcone, but he'd do it with his eyes wide open.
+
The interrogation room was like most interrogation rooms - sturdy metal table, single bright light overhead, two heavy metal-and-plastic chairs, a single door, and a two-way mirror.
Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed impatiently.
"Got somewhere to be?" the agent asked, sneering.
"Not anymore," Harry shrugged. He was late enough that Marcone would worry. He didn't miss their dates anymore, not unless it was life or death - or someone managed to kidnap him, like the agents had essentially done.
"A few years ago you were...not exactly a model citizen, but on the right track. You paid your bills eventually, you helped the police solve the weirdo crimes. You had all kinds of vehicle citations, but that's hardly a big deal. Then you start getting spotted with Marcone. And then you start getting implicated in much more serious crimes - murders, arsons with fatalities, disappearances...it looks pretty bad."
"It looks like you're grasping at straws," Harry said with a tight smile.
"Marcone is a monster. You hang out with the devil and you start acting like a demon, Dresden. But it's not too late. You can still do the right thing."
Harry sputtered with laughter. "What, wear a wire?"
"Something like that."
"I'm not interested in having the government listening in on my conversations," Harry said flatly.
"We're not interested in your conversations. We're interested in Marcone's."
"The only business we talk about is protecting Chicago, which I do proactively, not reactively."
"What else do you talk about, then?" came the innocent follow-up question.
"Sports," Harry lied with a toothy grin.
"...Don't insult my intelligence."
"Don't ask questions you know I'm not gonna answer. By the way, you have no right to keep me here without a charge, and you have no charges or even reasonable suspicion. If you did, I'd have a lawyer or you'd be in really deep shit."
The agent threw a folder down. Harry glanced at it curiously but didn't touch it.
"Go ahead. Take a good look."
Harry flipped the file open. A happy little family photo was clipped to a crime scene picture, showing the eviscerated corpse of the man in the family. His stomach flipped, and he turned away.
"What, delicate constitution? This is what Marcone does," the agent snapped, shoving the file at Harry. "Look at it!" He turned to the next set of photos - a guy playing with his daughter, and then the guy with his throat slit.
They were almost all like that, the juxtaposition of the man with his family and the man, dead. The last three, though, were women. Harry shoved away from the table and out of the agent's reach.
"I don't know anything about that stuff! And you can't prove it, or you'd have locked him up!"
"No, we can't prove it! But we know it's him, just like you know it's him. And you can help us put him behind bars, Dresden. You can make the streets safer."
That wasn't right. Harry glared at the agent. "Who were those people?" he deflected.
The agent started talking about their families, but Harry waved a hand dismissively.
"Everyone has a father, and a lot of people who don't deserve children have those, too. What did they do?" Harry pushed, moving back into the agent's space, using his height to physically intimidate.
He heard the euphemisms and dismissed them immediately. They weren't on the average citizen side of the law.
"You wanna talk about making the streets safer? Since Vargassi disappeared, you know what the crime rate has been in Chicago? About a 60% reduction from when Vargassi headed the Outfit. That wasn't the bloated, useless cops at work, and it sure as hell wasn't the FBI. Violent crime in particular is way down, and gangs no longer recruit minors in any large amount. Minors are also ten times less likely to be the victim of a violent crime now than they were ten years ago. That's making the streets safe, agent. You should find a new tactic."
He shoved his way out of the room, hearing the lightbulb pop and shower glass on the floor, not caring a whit about it. He was certainly unhappy with the images, but he didn't know what to tell or ask Marcone. He feared the truth would be the worst answer he could receive, or that Marcone would lie to keep him close.
Harry got into his car and took a deep breath. Driving angry was a surefire way to break his car. He'd talk to Marcone, but he'd do it with his eyes wide open.
This is all so great.
Note: I feel like I have to explain the title. Probably nobody cares, but it's my fill, so you get the explanation. It's a term in fox hunting that denotes when the hunter has either killed or run the fox to the ground (meaning the fox has escaped). Oddly enough, there's no term in fox hunting for 'hunted it down and then fucked it senseless'. And I'm awful glad that there isn't.
______
Cold air burned through my lungs, sharp, welcome pain. I breathed deep, taking it in, letting it fill me and make my blood sing. It was night, or what passed for night here in the Erlking's lands, but the moon was full. A Hunter's Moon. What else? I'd stumbled into this little cave a few minutes ago, needing a moment to catch my breath.
Mab sent me to deliver a message. She didn't tell me what was in the letter, merely that I was to deliver it and then represent her well to the King.
He read the letter and rose from his throne, descending to floor level with an eager step. Coming level with me, where I knelt, he stopped and told me to rise. And then to run. If I could elude him for an hour I was free to go. If not, he claimed a forfeit.
I managed ten minutes. The Erlking ran me down, leaping from his horse to wrestle me to the ground and bind me with leather thongs himself. He tossed me over the front of his saddle like a sack and rode the monstrous beast right back into the dining hall, one hand pressed into the small of my back, holding me steady.
The feasting goblins laughed and called, congratulating their king on a fine hunt. He threw me face down over the side of his throne and sliced through the ties around my legs. My jeans went next, the knife's blade a whisper away from my skin, but wielded with incredible skill it never touched me.
“Now for the feasting.” I found myself flipped over, my back arching over the arm of the throne, my head and shoulders resting awkwardly on the cushion. I had a moment of fear, real and mind numbing as he leaned down, his teeth worryingly white and strong in the wavering torchlight. And then he knelt beside his own throne and bit the inside of my thigh. I shouted, squirmed, and the goblins laughed some more. But he didn't rip out a chunk of flesh. The King worried at my skin, teeth digging in rather gently before licking at the raw skin, cleaning off the tiny pinpricks of blood where his teeth had managed to cut me.
He licked up the inside of my leg, pausing every so often to nip at the skin. When he reached the top of my inner thigh, he found me hard and ready. Call it adrenaline. A low, rumbling sound echoed from his chest and the goblins cheered. My magic fluttered around me, brushing against the Erlking and rolling around him, like a river encountering a boulder. And then his power broke, rushed over me in a warm, vital wave. Hot as blood, thick and salty. The first touch of his tongue against my hole made me shout. No one had ever done that to me. It was an alien feeling and my muscles clenched, tensing, drawing all my attention down to focus on the Erlking between my legs.
He pressed inside me, firm, slick and flexing. It pierced me and lightning arched up my spine. I shuddered, tense from my toes on up. My hair felt like it should be standing on end. Groaning, head grinding into the cushion I pushed down onto him, pulling him in deeper. The Erlking withdrew and I could feel him smiling against the delicate flesh of my groin before he licked me again, warm and impossibly wet. My feet were suddenly braced against his shoulders, bracing me so I could grind down into that elusive pressure.
“Most food is not this noisy once it's on the table, Knight.” His words breathed against me, cold after the heat of his mouth, his tongue, and I hissed, tried to hook my legs around his back and draw him back to me. He gripped my thigh in on hand and held me still.
“So-sorry.” I gasped and arched my hips in invitation. I couldn't help it. His power trailed across my skin, caressing, mingling with my own power. Not that of Winter, but my power. The rush of fire met the heat of the hunt and exploded in glowing crimson like a jewel in my vision.
When I could see anything but the vibrant red, faceted and sparkling, I was loose, curled on the floor of the dais, my head resting on one of the Erlking's boots.
Wind whipped through the trees and brush, a sudden storm where the sky had been clear before. It might work in my favor. If the clouds covered the moon I'd have a better chance of making my way out of this forest and across the plain without anyone seeing me. My chances would still be terrible, but they'd be a little less terrible. And that's all you can ask for some days. Or, I thought, it could just be carrying my scent to anything downwind.
He had hounds. Very large black hunting dogs. They treed me within half an hour of the order to run. I was only up there for a few minutes, but they looked smart. Almost as though they were working out how to climb the tree after me, or use one another as stepping stools to get to me. By the time the Erlking arrived, his black horse pawing at the hard packed earth, I was happy to see him. I was pretty sure he wasn't going to actually eat me. Not like that. He'd 'eaten' me before, and it had been one of the best things I'd ever felt. I didn't think the dogs wanted the same thing.
“Yield?”
“Oh yeah.” He tilted his head a little and the dogs all whined, retreating from the base of the tree. I waited until they had moved far enough away, past where the Erlking sat on his horse and then I slid down out of the tree.
I walked over to him and knelt, my head down. I felt ridiculous, but my safety depended on old world rules of guest rights and hospitality too much for me to laugh off the niceties like I used to. He picked me up with one hand on the back of my shirt and jacket, lifting me up onto the back of his horse so that I sat in front of him, pressed between the saddle-horn in front and the warm mass of the Erlking's body behind.
His heart beat in my ear, steady and deep as he reached around me and lashed my wrists to the saddle with the reins. The ride back was slow, his horse picking the way out on it's own with no guidance that I could see. The Erlking remained pressed tightly against my back and it wasn't long before I recognized the hard press of his erection rubbing up and down against me with the motions of the horse. I must have made a sound, something startled and unsure, because he pressed me back into his body, an arm around my shoulders, holding me to him.
Long, strong fingers pressed against my shirt, grabbing it and tugging it out of my pants. I squirmed and rocked back into him. He growled and pressed himself against me, impossibly large and silky smooth. The movement of the horse rocked him against me, the curve of my body cradling his length as if made for it. I rocked back into him, echoing the horses smooth pace, rocking my own erection against the smooth leather of the saddle through my jeans. It strode the line between pain and pleasure, but that seemed natural here. Here where the death of your prey was the height of satisfaction.
The Erlking came as we crossed the bridge into his castle, coating my back. I bit the inside of my cheek while he smeared it with his hand, rubbing it into my skin as though it were the finest of oils.
When we dismounted, I found myself tossed over one massive shoulder, hand cupping my ass to hold me there.
“My Lord?”
“I will be dining in my chambers this evening. Feast well my friends.” His voice was laughing, merry as he turned away from his goblin army and carried me off to his bed.
I couldn't stay in my cave much longer. The wind hadn't brought clouds, but it did carry sounds to me. I could hear the vague sounds of movement in the underbrush. It was probably one of the native creatures. Something that wouldn't harm me but would give away my position.
When I moved, I did so cautiously, checking every step for hidden traps.
He'd caught me that way a few times. Snares that left me dangling upside down by an ankle, nets and cages that dropped down out of the trees. At least he left the spears out of the pit traps.
The ground crumbled under my feet without any warning. I shouted and pushed off of the barest touch of earth, throwing a little bit of magic into it, knowing that it would tip the Erlking off to my position. But I didn't want to fall into a pit again. It was embarrassing enough the first four times. I was better than that now. My enhanced momentum carried me over the gaping hole and I slammed chest first into the far side of the pit, my arms scrabbling to catch hold of the dirt or a root. Something to stop my backwards slide.
The tips of my fingers scraped, digging, and I finally stopped, dangling just over the edge. My arms ached but I grunted, dug in, and pushed with my legs. A relative eternity later I pulled myself back up onto solid ground and scrambled to my feet. The sounds of pounding hooves and the eerie baying of the hounds came toward me at inhuman speed. I ran. There was no way to stop and check the stars, no time. But I had to be close to my hour. If I could just keep free a few minutes longer I would win.
A hunting horn sounded in the near distance. I'd never heard that signal before and it stopped me. I needed to think. To figure out what he was throwing after me now.
“Knight!” His voice didn't boom. It just simply was there, beside me. And I knew that it would have sounded the same no matter where I had stopped. “You have eluded me for the hour agreed upon. You are free this night. We will return to my palace and you shall not be accosted. Leave as you please, with my blessing.”
Shock rippled through me. I had won. I hadn't really thought it possible. The Erlking had been hunting me every time I came into his lands for more than a year now. I'd never beaten him before.
I dropped to the ground, letting the impact jar through me. I'd WON. I could hear them moving off, less cheerful than usual, but still happy. After all, a good hunt was a good hunt, even if the prey got away every once in a while.
So there was no reason for the sucking sensation in my stomach. No reason for the disappointment that ran through me.
I ran for the river. We'd changed the rules this time. The first hunt since I'd escaped him. No time limit this time, but a goal. If I could make it over the river that divided the eastern and western halves of the Erlking's domain, I would win. I could see the glitter of the water in moonlight, bright and inviting. The path was literally all downhill and I made good time.
My boots splashed into the shallow of the water and I felt the surge of victory.
The hound slammed into my from the other side of the river. His eyes glowed red, brighter and fiercer than any other hound I'd ever seen. I went down, my arms catching me just enough to keep from knocking myself loopy on a rock. The hound pressed his weight down onto me, pinning me and thew his head back, howling in victory.
“Cheater!” I threw a punch at the massive jaw, but the beast was quick. He blurred in movement and I found his incredible jaws clamped delicately around my throat, digging in with just enough pressure that I knew I would have a completely unexplainable set of bruises in the morning. “You did. You cheated. We said no hounds.” I wheezed it out around the careful pressure on my throat. A rumbling doggy laugh, sort of like the worlds most threatening sneeze, rolled out of him and I felt the body over me shift, flow and reform as something else. His teeth never moved and they didn't feel less vicious at all.
“We agreed that I would not use my hounds. Not that I wouldn't track you as a hound. A fine distinction, to be sure. But here we are.” The Erlking, already nude, leaned back and released my throat. He wasn't beautiful. Not in comparison to the sidhe. Not even in comparison to some humans I knew. But he was compelling. Arresting. Attractive in a purely animal way. Scars, lumps and all. I loved looking at him. It lit arousal in me, primal and unthinking.
“So we did. A terrible oversight on my part. I take it back. You adhere to our bargain. And so must I.” I smiled, free, my blood still singing and rolled my hips against his belly. The Erlking smiled at me, sharp white teeth shinning and wonderful and then he was ripping my clothes from me, leaving tatters here and there to cling.
I could imagine the picture we made. Him, hard and gleaming, primal and perfect in his desire. Me, beneath him, clothed only in shreds, vulnerable and in the midst of surrender. And hard as a fucking rock at it all. He held me down with his power alone, his hands covering me, coiling around my erection, rippling over me and coating my length with my own leaking precome.
I hissed and shouted at him, crying out without shame or reservation. There wasn't any need for pretense here. This was the last place for pretending to be what I wasn't. I clawed at his arms, kicked at him and pressed up into him, fighting him for it.
He spoke to me in his grumbling voice and it wasn't English. It was lyrical and beautiful, a song to die by. I didn't care what it was, or what he was saying. He could have been reading a phone book in fucking Elvish for all I cared. His voice was like another sensation, another thing to touch, to arch into. I came into it, into his hand, coating his belly, my heels digging long furrows in the dirt, my blunt nails cutting into his flesh, carving myself into him.
As I came down, muscles relaxing into the burn of pain from the hunt, the Erlking took hold of my hips and pierced me in one long thrust. I screamed again, stretching around him. He was slick, but there wasn't enough lube in the world to make taking the Erlking painless. We'd been here before. He pierced me quickly, viciously. Mercy was a foreign term here. But after that he rocked forward in shorter thrusts, working me open slowly until he was finally seated in me.
I thought, in some dim part of myself that wasn't focused on the wonderful feel of him inside of me again. Wasn't focused on how much I'd missed it since the last time I'd been caught. That part of me thought that if I looked down I would be able to see the bulge of him seated in my stomach. To watch the length of him move inside of me as he fucked me. I gasped when he pulled out, wrapped my legs around his hips and tried to pull him back in.
My eyes went to the moon, a corona of light behind him like a halo. I fisted my hands in his long hair and ground down on him, leaning up to bite at his jaw line, his chin. He growled, his red eyes lighting up and then he was fucking me for real, my back scraping along the rough ground, pain and pleasure tangling up inside of me until I knew I was hard again, near to coming again and then he dove for my throat again, teeth piercing my shoulder. The slow, sticky flow of blood set us both off. He came first, growling into my flesh, his cock swelling inside of me, locking us together. The warm pulses melted my spine. I tightened, shuddered and came.
______
Cold air burned through my lungs, sharp, welcome pain. I breathed deep, taking it in, letting it fill me and make my blood sing. It was night, or what passed for night here in the Erlking's lands, but the moon was full. A Hunter's Moon. What else? I'd stumbled into this little cave a few minutes ago, needing a moment to catch my breath.
Mab sent me to deliver a message. She didn't tell me what was in the letter, merely that I was to deliver it and then represent her well to the King.
He read the letter and rose from his throne, descending to floor level with an eager step. Coming level with me, where I knelt, he stopped and told me to rise. And then to run. If I could elude him for an hour I was free to go. If not, he claimed a forfeit.
I managed ten minutes. The Erlking ran me down, leaping from his horse to wrestle me to the ground and bind me with leather thongs himself. He tossed me over the front of his saddle like a sack and rode the monstrous beast right back into the dining hall, one hand pressed into the small of my back, holding me steady.
The feasting goblins laughed and called, congratulating their king on a fine hunt. He threw me face down over the side of his throne and sliced through the ties around my legs. My jeans went next, the knife's blade a whisper away from my skin, but wielded with incredible skill it never touched me.
“Now for the feasting.” I found myself flipped over, my back arching over the arm of the throne, my head and shoulders resting awkwardly on the cushion. I had a moment of fear, real and mind numbing as he leaned down, his teeth worryingly white and strong in the wavering torchlight. And then he knelt beside his own throne and bit the inside of my thigh. I shouted, squirmed, and the goblins laughed some more. But he didn't rip out a chunk of flesh. The King worried at my skin, teeth digging in rather gently before licking at the raw skin, cleaning off the tiny pinpricks of blood where his teeth had managed to cut me.
He licked up the inside of my leg, pausing every so often to nip at the skin. When he reached the top of my inner thigh, he found me hard and ready. Call it adrenaline. A low, rumbling sound echoed from his chest and the goblins cheered. My magic fluttered around me, brushing against the Erlking and rolling around him, like a river encountering a boulder. And then his power broke, rushed over me in a warm, vital wave. Hot as blood, thick and salty. The first touch of his tongue against my hole made me shout. No one had ever done that to me. It was an alien feeling and my muscles clenched, tensing, drawing all my attention down to focus on the Erlking between my legs.
He pressed inside me, firm, slick and flexing. It pierced me and lightning arched up my spine. I shuddered, tense from my toes on up. My hair felt like it should be standing on end. Groaning, head grinding into the cushion I pushed down onto him, pulling him in deeper. The Erlking withdrew and I could feel him smiling against the delicate flesh of my groin before he licked me again, warm and impossibly wet. My feet were suddenly braced against his shoulders, bracing me so I could grind down into that elusive pressure.
“Most food is not this noisy once it's on the table, Knight.” His words breathed against me, cold after the heat of his mouth, his tongue, and I hissed, tried to hook my legs around his back and draw him back to me. He gripped my thigh in on hand and held me still.
“So-sorry.” I gasped and arched my hips in invitation. I couldn't help it. His power trailed across my skin, caressing, mingling with my own power. Not that of Winter, but my power. The rush of fire met the heat of the hunt and exploded in glowing crimson like a jewel in my vision.
When I could see anything but the vibrant red, faceted and sparkling, I was loose, curled on the floor of the dais, my head resting on one of the Erlking's boots.
Wind whipped through the trees and brush, a sudden storm where the sky had been clear before. It might work in my favor. If the clouds covered the moon I'd have a better chance of making my way out of this forest and across the plain without anyone seeing me. My chances would still be terrible, but they'd be a little less terrible. And that's all you can ask for some days. Or, I thought, it could just be carrying my scent to anything downwind.
He had hounds. Very large black hunting dogs. They treed me within half an hour of the order to run. I was only up there for a few minutes, but they looked smart. Almost as though they were working out how to climb the tree after me, or use one another as stepping stools to get to me. By the time the Erlking arrived, his black horse pawing at the hard packed earth, I was happy to see him. I was pretty sure he wasn't going to actually eat me. Not like that. He'd 'eaten' me before, and it had been one of the best things I'd ever felt. I didn't think the dogs wanted the same thing.
“Yield?”
“Oh yeah.” He tilted his head a little and the dogs all whined, retreating from the base of the tree. I waited until they had moved far enough away, past where the Erlking sat on his horse and then I slid down out of the tree.
I walked over to him and knelt, my head down. I felt ridiculous, but my safety depended on old world rules of guest rights and hospitality too much for me to laugh off the niceties like I used to. He picked me up with one hand on the back of my shirt and jacket, lifting me up onto the back of his horse so that I sat in front of him, pressed between the saddle-horn in front and the warm mass of the Erlking's body behind.
His heart beat in my ear, steady and deep as he reached around me and lashed my wrists to the saddle with the reins. The ride back was slow, his horse picking the way out on it's own with no guidance that I could see. The Erlking remained pressed tightly against my back and it wasn't long before I recognized the hard press of his erection rubbing up and down against me with the motions of the horse. I must have made a sound, something startled and unsure, because he pressed me back into his body, an arm around my shoulders, holding me to him.
Long, strong fingers pressed against my shirt, grabbing it and tugging it out of my pants. I squirmed and rocked back into him. He growled and pressed himself against me, impossibly large and silky smooth. The movement of the horse rocked him against me, the curve of my body cradling his length as if made for it. I rocked back into him, echoing the horses smooth pace, rocking my own erection against the smooth leather of the saddle through my jeans. It strode the line between pain and pleasure, but that seemed natural here. Here where the death of your prey was the height of satisfaction.
The Erlking came as we crossed the bridge into his castle, coating my back. I bit the inside of my cheek while he smeared it with his hand, rubbing it into my skin as though it were the finest of oils.
When we dismounted, I found myself tossed over one massive shoulder, hand cupping my ass to hold me there.
“My Lord?”
“I will be dining in my chambers this evening. Feast well my friends.” His voice was laughing, merry as he turned away from his goblin army and carried me off to his bed.
I couldn't stay in my cave much longer. The wind hadn't brought clouds, but it did carry sounds to me. I could hear the vague sounds of movement in the underbrush. It was probably one of the native creatures. Something that wouldn't harm me but would give away my position.
When I moved, I did so cautiously, checking every step for hidden traps.
He'd caught me that way a few times. Snares that left me dangling upside down by an ankle, nets and cages that dropped down out of the trees. At least he left the spears out of the pit traps.
The ground crumbled under my feet without any warning. I shouted and pushed off of the barest touch of earth, throwing a little bit of magic into it, knowing that it would tip the Erlking off to my position. But I didn't want to fall into a pit again. It was embarrassing enough the first four times. I was better than that now. My enhanced momentum carried me over the gaping hole and I slammed chest first into the far side of the pit, my arms scrabbling to catch hold of the dirt or a root. Something to stop my backwards slide.
The tips of my fingers scraped, digging, and I finally stopped, dangling just over the edge. My arms ached but I grunted, dug in, and pushed with my legs. A relative eternity later I pulled myself back up onto solid ground and scrambled to my feet. The sounds of pounding hooves and the eerie baying of the hounds came toward me at inhuman speed. I ran. There was no way to stop and check the stars, no time. But I had to be close to my hour. If I could just keep free a few minutes longer I would win.
A hunting horn sounded in the near distance. I'd never heard that signal before and it stopped me. I needed to think. To figure out what he was throwing after me now.
“Knight!” His voice didn't boom. It just simply was there, beside me. And I knew that it would have sounded the same no matter where I had stopped. “You have eluded me for the hour agreed upon. You are free this night. We will return to my palace and you shall not be accosted. Leave as you please, with my blessing.”
Shock rippled through me. I had won. I hadn't really thought it possible. The Erlking had been hunting me every time I came into his lands for more than a year now. I'd never beaten him before.
I dropped to the ground, letting the impact jar through me. I'd WON. I could hear them moving off, less cheerful than usual, but still happy. After all, a good hunt was a good hunt, even if the prey got away every once in a while.
So there was no reason for the sucking sensation in my stomach. No reason for the disappointment that ran through me.
I ran for the river. We'd changed the rules this time. The first hunt since I'd escaped him. No time limit this time, but a goal. If I could make it over the river that divided the eastern and western halves of the Erlking's domain, I would win. I could see the glitter of the water in moonlight, bright and inviting. The path was literally all downhill and I made good time.
My boots splashed into the shallow of the water and I felt the surge of victory.
The hound slammed into my from the other side of the river. His eyes glowed red, brighter and fiercer than any other hound I'd ever seen. I went down, my arms catching me just enough to keep from knocking myself loopy on a rock. The hound pressed his weight down onto me, pinning me and thew his head back, howling in victory.
“Cheater!” I threw a punch at the massive jaw, but the beast was quick. He blurred in movement and I found his incredible jaws clamped delicately around my throat, digging in with just enough pressure that I knew I would have a completely unexplainable set of bruises in the morning. “You did. You cheated. We said no hounds.” I wheezed it out around the careful pressure on my throat. A rumbling doggy laugh, sort of like the worlds most threatening sneeze, rolled out of him and I felt the body over me shift, flow and reform as something else. His teeth never moved and they didn't feel less vicious at all.
“We agreed that I would not use my hounds. Not that I wouldn't track you as a hound. A fine distinction, to be sure. But here we are.” The Erlking, already nude, leaned back and released my throat. He wasn't beautiful. Not in comparison to the sidhe. Not even in comparison to some humans I knew. But he was compelling. Arresting. Attractive in a purely animal way. Scars, lumps and all. I loved looking at him. It lit arousal in me, primal and unthinking.
“So we did. A terrible oversight on my part. I take it back. You adhere to our bargain. And so must I.” I smiled, free, my blood still singing and rolled my hips against his belly. The Erlking smiled at me, sharp white teeth shinning and wonderful and then he was ripping my clothes from me, leaving tatters here and there to cling.
I could imagine the picture we made. Him, hard and gleaming, primal and perfect in his desire. Me, beneath him, clothed only in shreds, vulnerable and in the midst of surrender. And hard as a fucking rock at it all. He held me down with his power alone, his hands covering me, coiling around my erection, rippling over me and coating my length with my own leaking precome.
I hissed and shouted at him, crying out without shame or reservation. There wasn't any need for pretense here. This was the last place for pretending to be what I wasn't. I clawed at his arms, kicked at him and pressed up into him, fighting him for it.
He spoke to me in his grumbling voice and it wasn't English. It was lyrical and beautiful, a song to die by. I didn't care what it was, or what he was saying. He could have been reading a phone book in fucking Elvish for all I cared. His voice was like another sensation, another thing to touch, to arch into. I came into it, into his hand, coating his belly, my heels digging long furrows in the dirt, my blunt nails cutting into his flesh, carving myself into him.
As I came down, muscles relaxing into the burn of pain from the hunt, the Erlking took hold of my hips and pierced me in one long thrust. I screamed again, stretching around him. He was slick, but there wasn't enough lube in the world to make taking the Erlking painless. We'd been here before. He pierced me quickly, viciously. Mercy was a foreign term here. But after that he rocked forward in shorter thrusts, working me open slowly until he was finally seated in me.
I thought, in some dim part of myself that wasn't focused on the wonderful feel of him inside of me again. Wasn't focused on how much I'd missed it since the last time I'd been caught. That part of me thought that if I looked down I would be able to see the bulge of him seated in my stomach. To watch the length of him move inside of me as he fucked me. I gasped when he pulled out, wrapped my legs around his hips and tried to pull him back in.
My eyes went to the moon, a corona of light behind him like a halo. I fisted my hands in his long hair and ground down on him, leaning up to bite at his jaw line, his chin. He growled, his red eyes lighting up and then he was fucking me for real, my back scraping along the rough ground, pain and pleasure tangling up inside of me until I knew I was hard again, near to coming again and then he dove for my throat again, teeth piercing my shoulder. The slow, sticky flow of blood set us both off. He came first, growling into my flesh, his cock swelling inside of me, locking us together. The warm pulses melted my spine. I tightened, shuddered and came.
O.O Stares...
Stares at it some more.
I think the above commentor has my thoughts exactly.
8D You just made my entire day! I thought no one was ever going to fill the Erlking/Dresden predator/prey relation promts I keep putting out!
I just really can find the words to describe how much I love you right now. :D
Stares at it some more.
I think the above commentor has my thoughts exactly.
8D You just made my entire day! I thought no one was ever going to fill the Erlking/Dresden predator/prey relation promts I keep putting out!
I just really can find the words to describe how much I love you right now. :D
I would like to subscribe to your newsletter 8D
3 Times Before the Gentleman, 1 Time Harry Almost Remebered
(Anonymous) 2011-02-24 05:51 am (UTC)(link)Marcone/Dresden Hurt/Comfort
Three times Gentleman John Marcone met Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden before he became the Gentleman and One Time Harry almost remembered him from that time before Everything Hurt.
Here's the extremly long title. Basically, write about three moments that John met Harry before he became Marcone in his POV. One time before Malcolm died, another when Harry was in the system, and one when Harry was working at Runaway Angels. Around Runaway Angels is when he was rising up in the mafia world.
Then write one time in present where Harry thinks Marcone seems very familar to someone in the past.
Writer can also turn this into a AU-verse where Marcone regrets not being able to help Harry back then.
Since we don't know his name, I guess you could say that Johnny was his nickname when he met little!Harry.
Kinks:Whatever Writer wants
Three times Gentleman John Marcone met Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden before he became the Gentleman and One Time Harry almost remembered him from that time before Everything Hurt.
Here's the extremly long title. Basically, write about three moments that John met Harry before he became Marcone in his POV. One time before Malcolm died, another when Harry was in the system, and one when Harry was working at Runaway Angels. Around Runaway Angels is when he was rising up in the mafia world.
Then write one time in present where Harry thinks Marcone seems very familar to someone in the past.
Writer can also turn this into a AU-verse where Marcone regrets not being able to help Harry back then.
Since we don't know his name, I guess you could say that Johnny was his nickname when he met little!Harry.
Kinks:Whatever Writer wants
...Possible sequel to Bad Angel IV? (being Presumutous here :D)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-24 06:05 am (UTC)(link)Marcone/Dresden Implied Nicodemus/Dresden Laciel/Dresden
Hurt/Comfort
Kinks:Blowjob-DeepThroating, Rimming, Self!Fingering/Fisting, Bottoming from the Top, Blindfold(Optional), Soft-Rough!Sex, Cuddling, Marking-Come, Mastubation, Dirty Talk, Sex w/ Clothes on(Used as Bondage?), Dub-Con to Con, Whatever else writer wants
Anyone can fill this, but this was also sorta intented as an continuation to Bad Angel IV. :D
Maybe also a wing!kink if Lasciel gives Harry wings.
Hmm... Maybe some therapy for Harry while he there too. OP would like overprotective Lash and Marcone who knows the state Harry's in right now
Hurt/Comfort
Kinks:Blowjob-DeepThroating, Rimming, Self!Fingering/Fisting, Bottoming from the Top, Blindfold(Optional), Soft-Rough!Sex, Cuddling, Marking-Come, Mastubation, Dirty Talk, Sex w/ Clothes on(Used as Bondage?), Dub-Con to Con, Whatever else writer wants
Anyone can fill this, but this was also sorta intented as an continuation to Bad Angel IV. :D
Maybe also a wing!kink if Lasciel gives Harry wings.
Hmm... Maybe some therapy for Harry while he there too. OP would like overprotective Lash and Marcone who knows the state Harry's in right now
Oh man, and I bet the absolute filthiest stuff gets written by the Fae and the White Court.
Bob/Dresden Anyone/Dresden
Kink:Dirty Talk, Dildo, Self!Fingering, Hypersentivity, Temperate, Multiple Orgasms, Blowjob(Dildo), Voyeurism, Masturbation
In order to power up Little Chicago, Harry needs to store a lot of energy regularly. And the best way to conjure up so powerful magic? SEX MAGIC, or as said by Bob. :D
Harry refuses to involve another person so he listens to Bob since he does know a lot about how to get the most pleasure.
Write about their first attempt with this and how Harry enjoyed it.
Then write about how someone was either spying on Harry or looking for him and discovered him when he was doing this with Bob.
It's up to the writer whether this leads to a confrontion or not.
OP would like Sex!Kitten Harry when he fucks himself senseless. :D
Has to be in Bob's POV and then in the another person's POV
Kink:Dirty Talk, Dildo, Self!Fingering, Hypersentivity, Temperate, Multiple Orgasms, Blowjob(Dildo), Voyeurism, Masturbation
In order to power up Little Chicago, Harry needs to store a lot of energy regularly. And the best way to conjure up so powerful magic? SEX MAGIC, or as said by Bob. :D
Harry refuses to involve another person so he listens to Bob since he does know a lot about how to get the most pleasure.
Write about their first attempt with this and how Harry enjoyed it.
Then write about how someone was either spying on Harry or looking for him and discovered him when he was doing this with Bob.
It's up to the writer whether this leads to a confrontion or not.
OP would like Sex!Kitten Harry when he fucks himself senseless. :D
Has to be in Bob's POV and then in the another person's POV
Re: 3 Times Before the Gentleman, 1 Time Harry Almost Remebered
(Anonymous) 2011-02-24 07:55 am (UTC)(link)OP, do you need these to be exact timeframes -- One time before Malcolm died, another when Harry was in the system, and one when Harry was working at Runaway Angels -- or can this writernon play around a bit with the moments?
Whoa! Awesome mating flight action! Good job keeping all the players straight (...so to speak), that's a hell of a tangle.
I think my favorite part was Gard the queen fire lizard gloating about how both she and her employer (hee!) got their bronzes.
Poor Michael and Amoraccieth. Painful echo of canon there.
I think my favorite part was Gard the queen fire lizard gloating about how both she and her employer (hee!) got their bronzes.
Poor Michael and Amoraccieth. Painful echo of canon there.
Oh my [Hunting] God. *fans self*
Interesting skills Harry must be learning. No, not just the sexy ones. ;)
I wonder if anyone else would ever be able to hunt him down, or catch him when he doesn't want to be caught, after this training program.
Interesting skills Harry must be learning. No, not just the sexy ones. ;)
I wonder if anyone else would ever be able to hunt him down, or catch him when he doesn't want to be caught, after this training program.
Harry Dresden is extremely sexually frustrated, but won't admit it. The other people in his head have gotten fed up.
So Harry has a vivid dream in which his subconscious and Lash tie him down and do wicked things to him all night. He wakes up very messy and much more relaxed.
Bonus if someone (Thomas?) notices the difference and asks him what (or who) he's been doing.
So Harry has a vivid dream in which his subconscious and Lash tie him down and do wicked things to him all night. He wakes up very messy and much more relaxed.
Bonus if someone (Thomas?) notices the difference and asks him what (or who) he's been doing.
In which Sam and Dean start investigating something that Harry's also investigating, leading to working together to solve a case.
Bonus points if Thomas is hanging around for some reason (like setting it when's he's living with Harry?). Super bonus points hilarity points if at first Harry assumes Sam and Dean are a couple, and Sam and Dean assume Thomas and Harry are a couple.
Extra super-duper completely optional bonus points of doom if you give me some Thomas/Dean. (WHAT. IT WOULD BE PRETTY. Even if Harry would then have to restrain Sam from killing Thomas.)
Bonus points if Thomas is hanging around for some reason (like setting it when's he's living with Harry?). Super bonus points hilarity points if at first Harry assumes Sam and Dean are a couple, and Sam and Dean assume Thomas and Harry are a couple.
Extra super-duper completely optional bonus points of doom if you give me some Thomas/Dean. (WHAT. IT WOULD BE PRETTY. Even if Harry would then have to restrain Sam from killing Thomas.)
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