Forces of Darkness By Cryptic Enigma
	Title: Forces of Darkness Rating: NC-17 Content: Slash, supernatural, vampirism, rape, possible incest Distribution: Ask first, please. Characters: Edge/Christian/Gangrel Genre: Supernatural, Drama, and Romance in later chapters Disclaimer: Characters belong to WWE, not me, except for Gangrel, who belongs to White Wolf or something like that. Spoilers: General stuff to do with the Brood/Ministry of Darkness Summary: Edge strives to save his brother from the devil’s clutches. Author Notes: This is only the first part. See what you think so far and I’ll put the rest up at a later date. Forces of Darkness Tears, unable to fall, burned the crystal blue eyes of innocence. He trembled in pure cold fear behind a defensive mask of blonde. Hugging his knees up close to his chest, this dear sweet angel lowered his head, blotting his eyes against a crisp white shirt. His heart ached with emptiness, torn and tattered like yesterday’s newspaper. So empty…And so alone. Was there no escape for him? A dark figure loomed above his prey, circling like a vulture. A sinister, truly sadistic smirk contorted the wicked one’s lips as his eyes hungrily undressed the weak bundle of chaste at his feet. In a feeble attempt to distance himself from his predator, the young one shuffled backwards without breaking his recoiled poise, leaning his back against the security of the wall behind him. With a low chuckle, the dark one knelt by his prey’s vulnerable form. Raking his pale cruel fingers through the golden locks before him, the demon’s ice black eyes penetrated the dead, downward gaze of his quarry. ‘So beautiful…’ he drawled, leaning slowly in. ‘And all mine…’ The hunter made his move, lunging, going in for the kill. Feeling thin cold lips on his own, the angel tried not to choke on the horrific stench of his assailant’s foul breath. The kiss was far from tender, possessive and violent. The demon caught the young one’s bottom lip between a pair of yellowing teeth, clamping down firmly. Whimpering in discomfort, the angel felt a hot tear streak and burn his cheek as the destructive teeth broke his fine silken skin. Blood quickly filled his delicate little mouth, prompting his aggressor’s tongue to invade the sweet space, lapping the hot red substance from where it welled. Grasping two quaking wrists in his firm hard hands, the advancer used his superior strength and weight to force the young angel onto his back. Struggling was out of the question, a blatant waste of energy. As his hips were roughly straddled, the youth closed his eyes and tried to imagine the bitter mouth away from his. He pictured himself somewhere secluded, away from prying eyes and hurtful hands. A place he could be alone…Alone, safe and dead to the world. He felt razor sharp fingernails tear through the flimsy material of his shirt, dragging the ruined garment from his bruised arms impatiently. The lips against his unwilling own increased their pressure insistently, a spiteful tongue tormenting his own. The angel wilted, wishing his body would pass through the cold concrete floor beneath him. More tearing was heard as the unrelenting hands savagely wrenched apart the tight dark material cladding the young legs within. Stripped bare and trembling, his ravaged back pressed to concrete, the angel felt his body shudder as a hand clutched at his hardening member. He berated himself for allowing his body to react in such a way, to allow him to be feeling pleasure as a result of such a degrading and terrifying experience. His sadistic ‘partner’ grinned satisfactorily, working his young prize into an orgasmic frenzy as he started a slow even rhythm on the hot stiff flesh. Leaning forward, the creature descended on the young man’s throat, baring a pair of white gleaming fangs. His eyes flashed an unearthly crimson color before the needle-like teeth sunk shallowly into the neck of the young angel. Wincing in both agony and ecstasy, the young one’s breathing became fast and heavy. He felt the surface of his flesh ache and burn at the deepening of the incision, the pain that should have been excruciating diminishing into an unholy pleasure that rocked through the core of his mortal soul. The larger man experienced a similar gratification, the mere knowledge of what he was inflicting upon the young blonde turning him on no end as he suckled at the punctured skin and drank deeply. Gradually, the pleasure began to fade. The young one felt his skin cool and pale as more and more of his life’s substance drained from his body. Anguish and panic set in, the build up of a shattering orgasm coming to its climax. Blinded by bright white mist as his release washed over him, angel’s tears began to cascade, banding his temples with dirty moist lines. Utter humiliation was quickly succeeded by intense agony as hard hotness ripped through the boundaries of his most personal part. His eyelids grinding against each other, lips rolled back to display clenched teeth, the young one’s heartbeat pounded thunderously in his ears. Gasping and sobbing, he searched the remains of his dying soul for a foothold, a glimmer of courage that would aid him in helping himself. Many times, he opened his mouth wide, needing to scream until he brought the walls entrapping him crashing down. But his plea fell on stone-deaf ears. Nothing would come of his courageous and valiant efforts but a silent cry for help that would never be answered. Numb in his defeat, the angel lay mute, taking what he supposed he had earned. His stupid mistakes and blindness had brought him here. His naivety to the real world and the people within it had served him this fate. His innocence and beauty had been so precious in the past, but had now led him into hell’s heart. He was nothing but a pawn of evil, a minion to a higher power, and he nobody to blame but himself for it. He had willingly brought himself face to face with the devil himself. But it seemed that even the devil knew mercy. He ended his torment of the young man quickly, withdrawing his fangs and his fiery member from the supple heat of the angelic body. Veering his head, the predator trailed his tongue over his crimson-coated lips, smirking down at his devoured prey in triumph. There the angel lay, exposed and numb upon the floor. His soul had long-since fled, leaving his heart alone to dwell and deal with the aftermath of such horrific betrayal. This was now the beginning of a breakdown, the decay of his very being. No force in heaven or on earth could prevent the inevitable downward spiral. *~*~*~* Silver winked under fluorescent lighting as Gangrel slowly raised his chalice to his lips. Sniffing disapprovingly, the vampire’s keen eyes perused the changing space he and his young protégé had claimed as their own. The boiler room was stuffy and choking, the sharp stench of mildew and rusted pipes filling the air. Loud metallic rattling and clanging almost defended the gothic duo, most likely due to their heightened sense of hearing. Random objects ranging from two by fours to kitchen sinks were scattered about, littering the concrete floor. Not exactly the Ritz, but at least it was private. In the coolest, shadiest corner of the boiler room, Christian sat on a stack of crates, staring at the toes of his boots. A dark pair of sunglasses hid his shy cerulean blue eyes and the sleeves on his snow-white poet shirt draped over his fingers. He discreetly glanced up at his sire every now and then, watching as the older man stood, chalice in hand, awaiting that evening’s Heat to commence. ‘I know you’re looking at me,’ Gangrel called suddenly, above the riotous noise. ‘If you have something to say, you know I have all eternity to listen.’ Lowering his eyes again, the young Canadian didn’t notice as somebody entered the boiler room and approached them hesitantly. His concentration on Christian distracted, Gangrel glanced round and narrowed his eyes slightly at the new comer. ‘Edge,’ he drawled in a flat tone. ‘To what do we owe this pleasure?’ The vampire placed his chalice down on top of a dumpster lid and readied himself for a battle as the tall blonde stepped closer. Removing his sunglasses and slipping them into the pocket of his ankle length jacket, Edge held up his hands in innocent protest. ‘Look dude, I’m not here to start a fight,’ he said. ‘I just want to talk to you guys.’ Gangrel relaxed, but only ever so slightly. He eyed the younger man suspiciously, not feeling at all comfortable in sitting down for a friendly chat with someone who had spent weeks on end being such a nuisance to him. Seeing the doubt in the icy eyes of his rival, Edge rolled his eyes irritably. ‘Come on, Gangrel,’ he protested. ‘You honestly think I’m going to jump you in here?’ After gazing at Edge for a long moment, Gangrel soon found he was growing tired of having to raise his voice over the sound of the boiler system. Laying his hand on the dial, the vampire brought the blaring machine to a halt with one snap of his fingers. Though this motion appeared to greatly impress Christian’s older sibling, the two vampires seemed to dismiss the action as a mere parlour-trick. Grinning wryly, Gangrel pulled up a stack of crates for Edge to seat himself upon. Though Edge was his enemy, the vampire had always considered himself a gentleman at heart. As the pair sat, they looked over at Christian, who was still huddled in the darkness. He seemed to be in awe over the fact that when he touched the piping hot steel casing of the boiler, his skin smouldered but wouldn’t burn or stir any pain within him. Gangrel clapped his hands in Christian’s direction, immediately getting the young man’s attention. ‘Come over here, Christian,’ Gangrel ordered. ‘Your brother is here to talk to us.’ Removing his hand from the cooling metal, the young blonde obediently got to his feet and went over to sit at his sire’s side. Edge gazed at his younger brother with a fond smile before starting what he had set out to say. ‘Listen ‘Grel,’ he began. ‘I know we’ve never been the best of friends. You don’t like me and I don’t like you. But the fact of the matter is I don’t want to fight my brother anymore.’ Christian glanced up at the mention of his name, watching Edge with a little more interest as he continued his little speech. ‘I haven’t seen Christian in so long now and I’ve missed him. He’s had a rough childhood and I know I didn’t exactly help him through it the way I should have. But I want that to change. I want to be there to help my brother when he’s hurt or in need.’ His voice choking slightly at the emotion welling up in his throat, Edge swallowed hard and took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I know he doesn’t need a babysitter. I just want to be there if he needs me,’ he concluded. ‘Better late than never, I guess.’ Sipping at the contents of his chalice, Gangrel looked at Edge thoughtfully. ‘So what you’re implying is you would like to call a truce on our little…disagreement with each other?’ Edge nodded, glancing at his baby brother to see if he could get any feedback from the look on his face. The little blonde looked contemplative, though not really moved by his brother’s emotional tirade. Despite that, Christian gave his sire a pleading look, to which the older vampire nodded slowly. ‘As you wish,’ Gangrel turned to Edge. ‘Truce.’ Smiling gently at his silent little brother, Edge extended a hand to Gangrel, which the vampire shook firmly, a malevolent smirk pasting itself across his pale face.