Rusted Nail On Silver Coffin | Preview
Yeah. I decided to ship this pairing. This dark and twisted thing that came upon me at one am on a sleepless summer night. I will warn you, this relationship is probably a bit dark- it's Sweeney of course it is -and won't go as sweetly as some of my other stuff. Happy endings are somber in this universe.
I will add Dumbledore in at some point.
The press of lips against his own was warm. Warm and brutal, searing, grating, binding. They bound him there, in that terrible hold, paralyzing him, robbing him of all thought and breath. They held him at the very fringes of his sanity. Helpless. So very very helpless.
When was the last time he ever felt so helpless?
"Sweeney," he moaned, gasping between kisses, for air, salvation. His face was drenched in sweat and tears. Cold. The former barber only held him tighter, pressing him further down into the downy sheets. He whimpered, a pitiful sound, as Sweeney tightened the hold around his right wrist, held aloft to the side, and that on his upper left arm. Knees between Gellert's legs, effectively pinning him there, defenseless.
He knew what was coming. He knew and he shivered, not wanting to let it happen, yet dreading whatever consequence there would be if he didn't. Losing Sweeney, for one, and- though brutal and violent and cruel -this, would no doubt be one of them.
Sweeney said nothing- as always -and simply groaned. The thoughts in Gellert's mind ran in tune with the beat of his friend's- lover's? -heart, something about keeping him there, keeping Sweeney there and with him. They were a blur really, a fogged haze, as truly all that went through his mind was Sweeney himself. Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney. His demon barber, his guardian, his friend. His love. His heart and soul.
Gellert trembled. It wouldn't be long now. The candle had been running long enough and he could almost hear the scream of silver, that high pitched wail of the cursed blade. In his right palm a wetness had pooled, had seeped down into the sheets, warm and sticky. He whimpered and sobbed, squirming. Sweeney didn't stop, smothering him in that heat, that blistering, terrible heat.
The kissed trailed down to his jaw, his neck, his jugular, and Gellert yelped as Sweeney bit down. Eyes shot open from their near shut state, he caught a glimpse of that silver moving, the blade sitting upwards and hovering towards them. Dizzy, he squirmed and pawed at the lapels on Sweeney's vest, scrambling for something to hold. On instinct, he tried to pull his hand away as the blade drew nearer, eyes frantic, never leaving its now red hot form. Red. Redder than a phoenix, heat radiating off in waves that were nigh unnatural.
From there his breathing grew erratic as he desperately tugged and tried to free his hand. Sweeney held firm, unrelenting, even as he bit and marred Gellert's neck, marking tender flesh with pulsing bruises. His sobbing grew louder as the blade drew ever closer to his skin, so much so that he could almost feel the burn. All attempts to close it were in vain, the cut on his palm stinging so badly it held open on its own accord. Not for long, something told him. Not long at all.
"Sweeney," he cried. "Sweeney no, please-" and the barber replied in another brutal clash of their lips, bloody biting down, Gellert could taste the copper off both of them. His eyes squeezed shut as the blade finally sunk down into the delicately frayed flesh of his palm.
He screamed. Screamed and cried, thrashing vainly. Violently, against two forces he'd grown to fear- and love -beyond comprehension.
Sweeney held him there, in an iron grip, swallowing him whole down to his last and final breath.
