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Brutal

Reply to Lucy

Posted to the RareSlash mailing list May 21, 2001

Title: "Brutal"
Author/pseudonym: Lucy
Fandom: The Forsaken
Pairing: Sean/Nick.
Rating: NC-17.
Status: New, complete.
Archive: No.
E-mail address for feedback: lucy_fur1@yahoo.ca
Series/Sequel: None.
Other website: http://members.tripod.ca/~angelspace/Lucy.html
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sean wakes up to a nightmare.
Warnings: Not beta'd. I think this may shake me of my lingering obsession over this movie - at least until the video comes out, anyway. Set quite a while after the end of the movie, which means spoilers for the whole thing. Songfic; "Holy Moses" is by Jann Arden.



I don't know how I'll get by without you
I'll be wrecked, I'll be ruined
I don't know how I'll get past tomorrow
I bet I'll be broken open wide

        Sean woke up abruptly, unsure of what had roused him, but resisted opening his eyes when he didn't hear anything alarming, thinking maybe he could talk his brain into going back to sleep. He had no idea what time it was - or even what day it might be. He could have been asleep eight hours or eight days, and even if he'd been so inclined, he wasn't entirely sure that he could open his eyes and face the day - or night, or whatever the fuck time it was. Hell, the apocalypse could have hit while he was asleep, and he was pretty sure he'd never have noticed a thing.

        Effort of any kind - especially the sort that involved moving his body - seemed like it just might be a little bit too much to ask for. He felt like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet - which, he thought with a smirk, pretty accurately described what Nick had done to him from the moment they stumbled into the room looking like a couple of rejects from a really bad monster-movie double feature - only the blood was real, not a fake red sugar syrup. Still, he suspected that the pain he felt from eyebrows to toenails had more to do with the four vampires he and Nick had come up against than the rigorous celebration fucking afterwards.

        It was hard to comprehend that they'd finally done it; after a cross-country trek and countless dead ends that had sent Nick gradually into a sullen and inconsolable depression, they'd finally found Nick's Forsaken and - as Nick himself so aptly put it, "Kicked some serious Nosferatu ass." The four fanged ones - the faux-Eurotrash Forsaken One and his three busty blonde spawn - were now nothing more than dust in the wind. Instead of killing them outright, they'd staked the motherfuckers out and watched 'em burn when the sun rose, bursting into flames like so many of last year's fireworks on the Fourth of July.

        It hadn't all been fun and games, though; just like Sean's Forsaken, Kit, these vampires were nasty-ass fighters, especially the big guy himself, and Sean was amazed he'd gotten out of the fight with only cuts and bruises. Sure, there were cuts and bruises everywhere - he felt like he'd taken an extra-long tumble in a industrial-sized dryer followed by a couple of hours in a medieval torture chamber - but he'd survived.

        More importantly, so had Nick. It took a while for the reality of the situation to sink in, but once it had, he'd been giddy, absolutely fucking giddy, and it would have taken a sandblaster to get the smile off his face. That giddiness had quickly translated into horniness, and they - also to quote Nick - "fucked themselves stupid."

        Now, Sean just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep pressed up against Nick's naked back, for a couple more days, at least. Then they could fuck their way back across the country again - without all the weight and desperation and shit that had accompanied the last trip.

        He rolled over, seeking out a spot of warmth in the bed. It was typically cold in the room, but he hadn't noticed it at all before now. Nick's celebratory mood post-vampire-inferno was infectious, and they'd splurged for once, choosing a motel that might have qualified for one star in some tourist guide to the best bets in backwater living, so the bed in their room was bigger than the ones they usually shared. What that meant was that they hadn't had to sleep on top of each other - not out of necessity, anyway. Plain old desire was another thing entirely.

        A sharp metallic clicking noise made Sean finally open his eyes. What he found himself faced with, rather than the face of a blissfully sleeping Nick, was the barrel end of Nick's automatic, pointed straight at him.

        "Haven't you ever wondered why I haven't just killed you in your sleep?"

***

I don't think I told you I feel terrible
I've been sitting in this chair since Sunday
in the same clothes, with unwashed hair
nothing moving, I feel unusual

***

        Sean blinked a couple of times, trying desperately to wake himself up from the truly fucked-up dream he was having, but despite his efforts, he continued to see the same thing - Nick, sitting up on the bed, both hands wrapped around the gun, safety off, and pointed straight at Sean's face.

        "I mean, it would have been better, wouldn't it? Just put you out of your misery as soon as that bitch bit you. Then none of this would have happened."

        Sean finally found his voice, which felt like it was coming from somewhere in the vicinity of his balls. "What the fuck - ?" he managed to croak - before Nick stopped him from saying anything further by pressing the gun against his mouth, making a hard 'clack' as it struck his front teeth.

        "But if I do it now," Nick said, as if Sean hadn't spoken at all, "At least I can plead temporary insanity. When I start spouting that fucked-up vampire tale, I'm sure they'll lock me up in some nice rubber-room hospital somewhere."

        He was calm, eerily calm, and Sean couldn't figure out why he could hear each word Nick enunciated so clearly - until he realized that he wasn't breathing.

        They were still for thirty seconds, maybe more, as Sean struggled to figure out what the fuck had happened to Nick in between the time he fell asleep on top of Sean and now. He wondered if insanity was hereditary in the guy's family, or if he was just playing some really sick, twisted joke. Hell, it was entirely possible that he was just a drama queen who got off on random acts of unprovoked sadism.

        Whatever it was, Sean had experienced more than enough of it. He made a sudden move, catching Nick off-guard as he grabbed his left wrist and twisted it up. They struggled only briefly for the gun before Sean ended up with it, and pinned Nick down on the bed, their positions almost exactly reversed. "What the fuck was that all about?" Sean demanded, holding Nick at bay with the gun.

        "It's about just exactly what I said it was about - you, and me, and all of this fucked-up shit we've been doing." Nick snorted. "I started thinking about it when I woke up, and I realized that you probably think that this is all real. Just because I like to fuck you up the ass doesn't mean a goddamned thing, you know. You didn't think it was all going to be long-stemmed roses and Hallmark cards from now on, did you? Sure, you're a great fuck, but great fucks are a dime a dozen."

        Sean was stunned. "Shut up!"

        "No," Nick grinned. "I don't want to shut up. I want to talk. Let's talk, Sean - about how bad you wanted it, and how bad you still want it, even now." He stroked Sean through the sheet, triggering an automatic response. "Do you know why I picked you out that day? It was written all over your pretty face. With your looks it's not going to be hard, you know, finding someone else to give you what you need. Hell, all you'll have to do is shake your ass at the nearest truck stop - "

        Sean struck Nick across the bridge of his nose with the gun, drawing a thin line of blood from the broken skin. His hands were shaking, but Nick was still grinning - no, smirking at him, and continued to bait him.

        "Maybe that's what I should have done," Nick mused. "If I'd only known you got off on pain, we could have had a lot more fun. And here I thought you were nothing more than a pretty little bitch."

        Sean's finger actually trembled slightly over the trigger of the gun, but Nick suddenly went pale, and he closed his eyes, like he was about to get what he'd been waiting for - a bullet in the brain. When it didn't come, he opened his eyes, and growled, "Just fucking do it."

        Sean stared at him for a moment, and then dropped the gun off the side of the bed. It clattered to the floor, and Sean, still quivering, grabbed two handfuls of Nick's soaked white tee and shook him. "Goddammit, Nick, tell me what the fuck you're doing!"

        As soon as the gun was out of his face Nick had gone limp, eyes shut and breathing shallow. When Sean let go of his stranglehold, Nick slumped back on the bed, boneless.

        "Go, Sean," he said, without opening his eyes. "Get the fuck out of here, and get the fuck away from me."

        "No."

        "How many times do I have to say it before you get the message? It was fun, but now it's over! Fuck off."

        "Fuck you! I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!"

        Nick just shook his head, and started to laugh. It was a hollow, empty, echoing sound, and it continued, growing in intensity, until Nick was near hysterics. He laughed so hard his breathing became constricted, and he started choking, coughing so violently Sean thought he was going to hack up a lung. He jumped off of Nick and helped him sit up, pounding him on the back until the coughing fit subsided.

        It was only when Nick was quiet and Sean was rubbing circles into his back that he noticed how wet Nick's shirt was. It was drenched, soaked through with sweat, and his skin was clammy and damp, although his cheeks were flushed. Nick seemed to read Sean's mind - or maybe just the slow expression of horror that spread over his face as he realized what the fuck had really happened to cause Nick's uncharacteristic bout of hostility.

        Sean was stunned into silence, his hand continuing to move against Nick's back merely because he didn't have the presence of mind to control any of his motor functions - not beyond breathing in and out, anyway.

        "It's almost funny, if you think about it," Nick said, in a tone that was both conversational and belied any humour. "Two of the original Forsaken are dead because of us, and god knows how many poor bastards we released from their curse, and still - it didn't do a goddamned thing for me, did it? You know what else is funny? I don't even care anymore." Nick reached over the side of the bed and picked up the gun by the barrel, handing it over to Sean. "Do me a favour, okay? Don't think about it - just do it."

        Sean took the gun from him, but shook his head. "No."

        Nick didn't seem surprised by his answer, but wrapped his fingers over top of Sean's. "I'm sick, Sean, and I'm tired. The way I see it, I don't have any choice left." His eyes were dark and he reached for the one thing that he thought would convince Sean to do what he asked. "I'd do it for you."

        Sean shook his head again, brushing away tendrils of sweaty hair from Nick's forehead. "You want me to kill you, and then what? Kill myself, or spend the rest of my life in jail?"

        "You call it self-defense. We had a fight, I attacked you. The way you look right now, you'll get off."

        "Yeah, and then they talk to every motel owner of every place we've stayed in over the last three months, they'll call us two fags who had a lovers' quarrel and I'll get twenty years. This is redneck country we're in."

        "So you tell them I went nuts and raped you. You'll probably get a medal for taking out a dangerous pervert."

        "You're vastly overrating my acting abilities, Nick." Sean chuckled, dryly. "Hell, at least I'll be the most popular guy on the cellblock." Sean shook his head. "I won't do it."

        "Then go, and let me do it myself."

        "No."

        Nick shrugged. "Okay. If you want to watch - " He held his hand out for the gun.

        "No." Sean threw the weapon angrily across the room. "You are not giving up on me now. We'll go back out on the road, we'll keep looking, we'll find him, and we'll kill the motherfucker. And if he isn't the one, we'll keep looking until we find the right one - or until we find all of them."

        "And where do you suggest we go now, Sean? Europe? Africa? China? This trip was my last chance - I don't have the slightest fucking idea where to even begin to look for this guy. We don't know his name, what he looks like, what his m.o. is - he could be underground, for all we know. He could be anywhere."

        "We've done it twice already," Sean argued. "We can do it again, and it will probably be easier because we have done it already, and we know what we're up against. So, yeah - we'll go to Europe, or Africa, or China, or the fucking moon if we have to - "

        "Sean, I've been infected more than two years," Nick said. "I don't know how much longer this medication is going to work." He picked up the plastic bag of drugs that he'd prematurely tossed in the trash the night before, and shook the pills until they rattled and spilled all over the bright orange motel-room carpeting. "Even with the drugs, I've started to feel - different. The way I did when it first happened. It's like it's finally catching up with me."

        "You didn't tell me," Sean said, quietly.

        "Because I thought we were close to the cure, and you were excited, and I was excited, and - I swear to god, I thought it was over. But I just don't think I have the strength to do this anymore, Sean. I just don't."

        "So you'll rest, and I'll be the hunter."

        "And what? Wake up in the middle of the night with my teeth in your neck? You want to take that chance?"

        "And you think it would be easier for me to blow your head off?" Sean shook his head. "Besides, how do you know it isn't too late for me already?"

        Nick frowned. "What do you mean?"

        "If you'll remember, the drugs weren't the only thing we threw out last night."

        "Fuck!" Nick reached his hand into the wastebasket and pulled out the hastily discarded box of condoms, heaving them across the room with all of his strength. The box hit the wall with a hard slap. "Fucking stupid careless idiot - Fuck! We should never have fucking done that."

        "Maybe not," Sean said. "But we did, and if you want me to be angry or upset about it, I can't. Everything you said about me is right - I'm addicted to you and the way I feel when I'm with you. If that makes me a slut," he shrugged, "then I'm a slut."

        Nick winced. "I didn't mean that," he said, pained.

        "I know, but it doesn't even matter. Even knowing everything I know, the only thing I want right now is to feel you fuck me again like you did last night - just you in me, with nothing between us. If I have to kill every vampire on the face of the earth to feel that again, I'll do it. As far as dying is concerned, I'd rather die from fucking you than because some walking bloodbank decided he wanted to snack on some of my AB-negative."

        Nick actually chuckled. "You are so fucked up, you know that?"

        "Uh-huh," Sean stretched out on the bed, hands tucked underneath his head. "You're just now figuring that out?"

        "I'm a little slow, sometimes." Nick sighed, and sank down onto the bed. "I feel like shit."

        "It's no wonder," Sean said, "because, frankly, you look like shit, too."

        Nick snorted. "Thanks."

        "No problem. Go, have a shower." Sean gave him a little push towards the bathroom. "I'll go out and forage and see if I can sweet-talk some clean sheets out of the manager."

        Nick paused in the doorway. "Just don't sweet-talk her too hard."

        Sean frowned. "Why?"

        "I've seen you in action - you're too good at it. She's liable to give you anything you want."

        Before Sean could react with more than a bemused grin, Nick disappeared into the bathroom.

        He was still in there twenty minutes later, when Sean returned with a bag of supplies from the convenience store across the road that could only loosely be referred to as "food" and a clean set of sheets. He dropped the bag on the table and stripped and re-made the bed, smoothing the cool sheets over the worn mattress. It was only when he was on his hands and knees gathering up Nick's scattered bag of meds that he realized that there was no noise coming from the bathroom - no shower running, no Nick singing Elvis off-key, no nothing. It was perfectly quiet.

        Too quiet.

        "Oh, Jesus Christ, no."

***

can you feel my heart beating like a thunderbolt
can you hear every sound I'm making
in the darkness, without breathing
nothing moving
I feel peculiar

***

        There was no answer when he pounded on the bathroom door. Sean swore, and used all his weight to shoulder the door open. He closed his eyes as he did so, took a deep breath, and then opened them, scared to death of what he might see.

        There was no sign of carnage, and everything was still quiet. Nick was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, naked and still dripping wet from the shower. Whorls of steam had fogged up the window and the mirror and drifted through the close air in the tiny room, but Sean didn't notice any of that. The only thing that he noticed was the gun, cradled like a babe in Nick's hands.

        Sean squatted down slowly in front of Nick, and caught his eyes. He could have easily reached out and taken the weapon, taken it and then driven miles away from the motel and just thrown it off the nearest cliff or into the closest lake. He didn't want to take it, though; he wanted Nick to give it to him.

        Ultimately, it was Nick's choice. He was the one who had to decide whether to live or die. Sean wanting it - even as hard as he did, hard enough to make his teeth clench and his back hurt from the want of it - wouldn't make it enough for both of them.

        Finally, after what felt like forever but was more like five minutes, when the mist had subsided and Nick started to shiver from the chill, he held the gun out to Sean, who lifted it gingerly out of Nick's hands and rested it on the side of the tub.

        Sean pulled Nick up onto his feet and dried him off, then bundled him into bed. Nick was unresisting of Sean's attention, and allowed himself to be tucked in without saying a word. In the bed he looked - smaller, somehow, which was ironic, since Sean had always thought of him as the bigger part of their partnership. Nick was the Hunter, the immovable object in the face of any oncoming assault. Maybe he only seemed lesser now because the bed was bigger, but Sean didn't really believe that. The truth was, Nick could easily stand up to any external threat that he came up against without fear, but was being brought to his knees by his own body's betrayal.

        Sean stripped his clothes off in the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, not daring to even catch his own eyes in the mirror. He was still too close to it - one minute longer that he hadn't been watching, hadn't been paying attention, and it might all have been over.

        He sat at the foot of the bed and opened up the paper bag containing 'dinner.' "Doritos or Twinkies?" he asked.

        Nick shrugged. "You choose."

        "I think Doritos have more nutritional value," Sean said. Nick gave him a questioning look, and he argued, "They're made with corn, aren't they? There's at least a passing reference to a food group in there." He picked up the bag and read the ingredients. "See? Corn, tomato powder, onion powder, garlic powder, three kinds of cheese - throw a little dressing on the side, and it's practically a chef salad."

        "I'm amazed the food and drug administration hasn't given them their seal of approval."

        Sean grinned at the return of Nick's dry humour. "So you're saying you want the Twinkies?"

        "I'm saying, give me the damn Doritos already," Nick said, and held his hands out for some of the chips. Sean tore the bag open and they crunched through the entire thing, washed down with cans of cream soda. It wasn't exactly a breakfast of champions, but somehow it seemed appropriate, and it hit the spot.

        Sean licked nacho dust from Nick's fingers and his lips, savouring the last traces of their meal and the feel of Nick's skin. Nick was so quiet Sean thought he was asleep by the time Sean had cleared everything up and climbed into bed, but he turned over on his side, silently inviting Sean to curl his own body around Nick's - for warmth, or comfort, or for whatever else he might need during the night. Plain old reassurance, maybe, that Nick wouldn't just disappear.

        Of course, once pressed tight against the warmth of Nick's back, Sean's body had the inevitable reaction, which he made no effort to hide.

        Nick snickered. "I was right the first time. You are a slut."

        "It's just an automatic response," Sean retorted. "You know cheesy motel rooms get me horny."

        "Oh, is that what it is?"

        "Of course. Why, what did you think?"

        "I try not to. It only gets me in trouble."

        "So you're telling me that I have to be the muscle and the brains from now on?"

        Nick guffawed and turned over, so they were face-to-face. "You're a lunatic. What did I ever do to end up on the road with someone who thinks Doritos qualify for inclusion in two of the major food groups and brushes his teeth with baking soda instead of toothpaste?"

        "It works, and it's cheap," Sean shrugged. "A box lasts, like, forever."

        "Yeah, but it's just seriously gross, man. I'm not exactly going broke buying Crest."

        Sean gave him an exaggerated tooth-bearing grin. "Can you honestly tell me you've ever seen a more beautiful smile?" he asked, batting his eyelashes.

        Nick rolled his eyes, but he grinned, too. "No, I can't," he said, softly, and the mood changed again, as unexpectedly as it had been changing all night. Heat seared between them, and Sean just barely had time to breathe before Nick was kissing him, tongue pressing eagerly between Sean's lips. He slipped a hand into the front of Sean's boxers, grasped his half-hard cock and began to stroke it. Sean reached for him, intent on reciprocating the action, but Nick shook his head. "Let me do this for you," he said.

        "But - "

        "I want to watch you," Nick said, and Sean, mute, nodded and tried to relax.

        It was hard, though - and the harder he got, the harder it was not to touch Nick. Watching Nick's broad hand move back and forth over his cock helped, though, and Sean was soon too overwhelmed by his feelings to do anything but feel - the long strokes that moved up and down the length of him, the occasional swipe of Nick's thumb over the head of his cock, spreading a glistening trail of pre-come in its wake. Nick manipulated him so expertly it was almost like he was touching himself, or that they were identical twins - hurt one, and the other felt it. Right now, Sean was on the verge of asking him to stop, because it felt too good, and he knew he was going to come and he just wanted it to go on feeling this good forever.

        He couldn't speak, though, and Nick wasn't about to stop. Sean shuddered and came, several white-hot spurts of come hitting him on the stomach and dripping down Nick's fingers. He was panting, aftershocks of the orgasm still rippling through his body when Nick pushed his sticky fingers into Sean's mouth for him to clean.

        He sucked each finger dry, cleaning them all with his tongue and then kissing the palm. By the time he was finished, Nick was groaning, his free hand busily jerking himself off. He came moments later, and Sean understood why he'd wanted to watch - it was incredibly intense to see him come, to watch the play of emotion and the uninhibited show of lust that coursed over Nick's face, and to know that it was caused, at least in part, by Sean himself.

        Sean mirrored Nick's earlier action, rubbing the come into his trembling stomach and bringing his sticky fingers to Nick's mouth. He could almost have come again from that erotic sucking alone, and moaned, thinking, 'I am a slut.'

        Nick's large, heavy body pressed Sean down into the mattress, and they lay there, panting breath gradually slowing to normal. Sean gave a small sound of protest when Nick finally rolled off of him.

        "Well, the clean sheets lasted an hour," Sean sighed.

        Nick snorted. "You'll have to go sweet-talk the manager again."

        "No way. I'm pretty sure she already knows we're not exactly holding a Boy Scout meeting in here."

        "So? She runs a run-down motel on the highway. I'm sure she's seen worse."

        "Exactly - and she might want to, you know, watch."

        "Good point. Fucked-up and seriously warped, but good."

        Sean rolled over, landing half-on, half-off of Nick, and sucked at one of his nipples until Nick groaned. "You know what we should do, once all of this is over, and things are back to normal?" he asked.

        "What?"

        "Take a road trip."

        Nick grinned. "See the country?"

        "Stay in dinky little motels," Sean nodded. "Eat crappy food."

        "Fuck our way across the fifty states," Nick finished. "Sounds good to me."

        "It's a date, then?"

        "Sure. It's a date."

***

I don't know, I can't tell
if I am myself
if I was a good girl
would I be here
if I was so stupid
then what was what you did
you were not a good thing for me

End

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