Southern Charm
folder
+. to F › FAKE
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
4,858
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+. to F › FAKE
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
4,858
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own FAKE, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Six: The Lovers
Chapter Six: The Lovers
Date Written: 9/26/05
Rating: R to NC-17 (Damn plot running away with itself again)
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I\'m not going to write it, though, the closest I\'ll go is memories)
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7
Notes: The following about voodoo is bull. I\'m using liberal use of the steriotypical fantasy-genre \'magic\'.
----------
Marie Laveau (1794? - June 16, 1881?) was an American practitioner of voodoo.
For such an important figure in American folklore, very little can be known certainly about her life. She is supposed to have been born in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana in 1794, the daughter of a white planter and a black woman. She married Jacques Paris, a free Black, on August 4, 1819; her marriage certificate is preserved in Saint Louis Cathedral in New Orleans.
M. Paris died in 1820 under unexplained circumstances; after his death, Marie Laveau became a hairdresser who catered to wealthy white families. She took a lover, Luis Christopher Duminy de Glapion, with whom she lived until his death in 1835.
Of her magical career, little definite can be said. She is said to have had a snake called Zombi. Oral traditions suggest that the occult part of her magic mixed Roman Catholic beliefs and saints with African spirits and religious concepts. It is also alleged that her feared magical powers came in fact from a network of informants in the households of the prominent that she developed while a hairdresser.
On June 16, 1881, the New Orleans newspapers announced that Marie Laveau had died. This is noteworthy if only because she continued to be seen in the town after her supposed demise. It is claimed that one of her daughters by M. Glapion assumed her name and carried on her magical practice after her death.
She is buried in Saint Louis Cemetery #1 in New Orleans, in the Glapion family crypt. The tomb continues to attract visitors who draw three crosses (XXX) on its side, hoping that her spirit will grant them a wish.
--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.
----------
Beneath an overhang across the street from Place d\'Armes, a man in a black suit and fedora leaned against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He pushed his hat up slightly, smoke curling around his face and hat before drifting skywards. Dark eyes fixed on the open second-story window of the hotel across from him, and he grinned.
Lustful energy poured from the window, free of the love and care that had been mingling in it only days before.
Not that the few people walking Jackson Square and St. Anne\'s could see it: It was only something that a hoodoo user could see, although others could feel the effects of it. He noticed that a few drunken couples were groping one another further down the street, the fringes of the aura mixing with the alcohol in their blood.
A gloved hand slid into his pocket, pulling out a blood red stone. His dark eyes greedily watched the aura trickle into the stone, a small flame flickering deep inside it, growing brighter and brighter in his hand. The flow ebbed from the window, but his face didn\'t show any worry.
He had hidden a trump card with the two lovers. Their bodies needed rest at the moment, but soon would be supplying him with more sweet energy.
\'Soon... I\'m so close...\'
\"What the hell are you doing here?\"
The voice was clipped and accented, but the English was almost formally perfect, not the normal jargon he was used to hearing in that voice. He tapped ash off the end of his cigarette, not looking up. He tried to discretely slide his hand into his pocket, hiding the jewel, distracting his opponent by taking a drag on his cigarette, the cherry end flaring as it burned paper and tobacco.
\"Hello Mademoiselle Marie Laveau.\"
\"I said it once, I\'ll say it again. What the hell are you doing here?\" Marie demanded, crossing her arms.
The man dressed in black took another long drag on his cigarette, drawing the tension out a little longer, making her sweat. \"Good vibes.\"
\"Good vibes?\" the woman nearly spit his own words back at him, her face contorted in fury. She gathered up her long skirts, storming across the paved street to stand eye to eye with him. \"You\'d better leave those two the fuck alone.\"
\"Ooh, so you\'ve gotten wind of them as well.\" The man smirked down at her. \"They\'re pretty as well as useful, no? Interested, ma petite? Hoping they\'ll let you participate, or do you just prefer to watch?\"
\"You\'re sick.\"
\"I am.\" Black eyes lingered on a black choker around her neck, and he brought a finger up to trace the front. \"So graceful. You shouldn\'t cover your body like that.\"
Her hand moved before he could see it, catching him across the cheek. The skin stung, and his hat fell to the ground, his face still hidden by shadows. The man tutted, putting a hand over his cheek. \"Now now, my pet.\" His hand snatched out to grab her throat, and he pressed her up against the wall, smiling at her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. \"You shouldn\'t exhibit such behavior towards your master,\" he scolded, bringing his face to her ear and licking it wetly.
Marie shivered, but pushed him away. \"Bastard. One day I\'m going to kill you.\"
\"Yes, yes, and you\'ll dance on my grave, won\'t you Marie?\" the man replied, brushing a thumb over her bottom lip. \"Go draw your silly x\'s on your grandmother\'s grave. Then come see me. My magic\'s stronger than a dead woman\'s.\"
He pressed two fingers against his lips, then against Marie\'s. The woman flinched, turning her face away.
The man laughed, stooping briefly to pick up his fedora before disappearing into the shadows of the French Quarter.
----------
Dee Laytner yawned, leaning against the railing clad in nothing but a towel. The city was quiet, the predawn stillness reminding him vaguely of the New York. Even Bourbon Street was relatively calm, with only a few late-late night drunks stumbling around the streets in the predawn light.
His entire body felt sore. Since Ryo\'s... exuberance... the night before on Bourbon Street, the quickie in the alley had done nothing to put an edge on the blonde\'s sex drive--in fact, they had ended up taking the stairs because they missed the floor three times taking the elevator (although, and Dee smirked as he thought of this, there were only two floors in the hotel), and even then the two had ended up fucking like animals halfway up the flight, Ryo\'s back pressed up against the wall as he sat on the railing, moaning like a porn star as Dee took him.
By the time they ended up at their room, both their hands fumbling to unlock the room, whatever that had gotten into Ryo had also gotten into Dee. The two barely made it to their bed, both men stripping clothing off themselves and one another, fingers ripping at stubborn clothing and catches. Finally, with minimal preparation, Ryo had been bent over the mattress, crying into the comforter as his lover thrust into him hard and fast.
Dee raised a hand to his face, rubbing the skin in an attempt to keep himself awake. He had never thought that he would be able to have sex with Ryo as much as he had the previous night, but it had been no effort at all (although now he was feeling the effects). At the moment, his lover was sleeping soundly in their bed, but something had drawn him to the window.
Now he knew why. The peacefulness over Jackson Quarter at the moment was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
He heard Ryo stir in the bed behind him, and turned towards the sound. Seeing Ryo sleeping in their bed, the sunlight streaming through the open windows and turning his tousled dark blonde hair a lighter shade of blonde, and his pale skin standing out even more against the dark comforter.
The man sleeping before him was without a doubt the most beautiful thing in his world.
As he walked towards the bed to join his lover, his foot caught against the leg of his jeans. The pants moved along with his foot, and the detective stopped momentarily when he heard something clink against the floor. He reached down and rooted around in his pockets, his fingers curling around something cold and metal, which he hauled out to get a look at.
It was a half-dollar sized charm on a chain, all in silver with what looked like sunrays around the face of the charm, which were inlaid with pieces of yellow glass. The face of the charm had a deeply engraved mark on it, filled in with a slick red paint. Dee held it up by the end of the chain, staring at the charm as it spun this way and that in the early morning light. What the hell is this?
Ryo stirred in their bed again, dark brown eyes sliding open. He smiled as he saw his lover, raising his hand towards the dark-haired man.
Dee tossed the charm over his shoulder haphazardly, not noticing when it skidded over to the balcony--and off the side--to fall into Ryo\'s arms. The blonde snuggled up to him, nuzzling his neck and pressing warm kisses against the skin.
\"Ryo, baby, I love you but I\'m tired,\" Dee protested, and the blonde chuckled.
\"Me too. But I sleep better when you\'re next to me.\"
The two lulled themselves to sleep, hands stroking up and down bare skin, and the gentle beating of one another\'s hearts playing soothing lullabies to the tired lovers.
----------
When he awoke later that day, Dee didn\'t even remember the charm.
Date Written: 9/26/05
Rating: R to NC-17 (Damn plot running away with itself again)
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I\'m not going to write it, though, the closest I\'ll go is memories)
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7
Notes: The following about voodoo is bull. I\'m using liberal use of the steriotypical fantasy-genre \'magic\'.
----------
Marie Laveau (1794? - June 16, 1881?) was an American practitioner of voodoo.
For such an important figure in American folklore, very little can be known certainly about her life. She is supposed to have been born in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana in 1794, the daughter of a white planter and a black woman. She married Jacques Paris, a free Black, on August 4, 1819; her marriage certificate is preserved in Saint Louis Cathedral in New Orleans.
M. Paris died in 1820 under unexplained circumstances; after his death, Marie Laveau became a hairdresser who catered to wealthy white families. She took a lover, Luis Christopher Duminy de Glapion, with whom she lived until his death in 1835.
Of her magical career, little definite can be said. She is said to have had a snake called Zombi. Oral traditions suggest that the occult part of her magic mixed Roman Catholic beliefs and saints with African spirits and religious concepts. It is also alleged that her feared magical powers came in fact from a network of informants in the households of the prominent that she developed while a hairdresser.
On June 16, 1881, the New Orleans newspapers announced that Marie Laveau had died. This is noteworthy if only because she continued to be seen in the town after her supposed demise. It is claimed that one of her daughters by M. Glapion assumed her name and carried on her magical practice after her death.
She is buried in Saint Louis Cemetery #1 in New Orleans, in the Glapion family crypt. The tomb continues to attract visitors who draw three crosses (XXX) on its side, hoping that her spirit will grant them a wish.
--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.
----------
Beneath an overhang across the street from Place d\'Armes, a man in a black suit and fedora leaned against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He pushed his hat up slightly, smoke curling around his face and hat before drifting skywards. Dark eyes fixed on the open second-story window of the hotel across from him, and he grinned.
Lustful energy poured from the window, free of the love and care that had been mingling in it only days before.
Not that the few people walking Jackson Square and St. Anne\'s could see it: It was only something that a hoodoo user could see, although others could feel the effects of it. He noticed that a few drunken couples were groping one another further down the street, the fringes of the aura mixing with the alcohol in their blood.
A gloved hand slid into his pocket, pulling out a blood red stone. His dark eyes greedily watched the aura trickle into the stone, a small flame flickering deep inside it, growing brighter and brighter in his hand. The flow ebbed from the window, but his face didn\'t show any worry.
He had hidden a trump card with the two lovers. Their bodies needed rest at the moment, but soon would be supplying him with more sweet energy.
\'Soon... I\'m so close...\'
\"What the hell are you doing here?\"
The voice was clipped and accented, but the English was almost formally perfect, not the normal jargon he was used to hearing in that voice. He tapped ash off the end of his cigarette, not looking up. He tried to discretely slide his hand into his pocket, hiding the jewel, distracting his opponent by taking a drag on his cigarette, the cherry end flaring as it burned paper and tobacco.
\"Hello Mademoiselle Marie Laveau.\"
\"I said it once, I\'ll say it again. What the hell are you doing here?\" Marie demanded, crossing her arms.
The man dressed in black took another long drag on his cigarette, drawing the tension out a little longer, making her sweat. \"Good vibes.\"
\"Good vibes?\" the woman nearly spit his own words back at him, her face contorted in fury. She gathered up her long skirts, storming across the paved street to stand eye to eye with him. \"You\'d better leave those two the fuck alone.\"
\"Ooh, so you\'ve gotten wind of them as well.\" The man smirked down at her. \"They\'re pretty as well as useful, no? Interested, ma petite? Hoping they\'ll let you participate, or do you just prefer to watch?\"
\"You\'re sick.\"
\"I am.\" Black eyes lingered on a black choker around her neck, and he brought a finger up to trace the front. \"So graceful. You shouldn\'t cover your body like that.\"
Her hand moved before he could see it, catching him across the cheek. The skin stung, and his hat fell to the ground, his face still hidden by shadows. The man tutted, putting a hand over his cheek. \"Now now, my pet.\" His hand snatched out to grab her throat, and he pressed her up against the wall, smiling at her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. \"You shouldn\'t exhibit such behavior towards your master,\" he scolded, bringing his face to her ear and licking it wetly.
Marie shivered, but pushed him away. \"Bastard. One day I\'m going to kill you.\"
\"Yes, yes, and you\'ll dance on my grave, won\'t you Marie?\" the man replied, brushing a thumb over her bottom lip. \"Go draw your silly x\'s on your grandmother\'s grave. Then come see me. My magic\'s stronger than a dead woman\'s.\"
He pressed two fingers against his lips, then against Marie\'s. The woman flinched, turning her face away.
The man laughed, stooping briefly to pick up his fedora before disappearing into the shadows of the French Quarter.
----------
Dee Laytner yawned, leaning against the railing clad in nothing but a towel. The city was quiet, the predawn stillness reminding him vaguely of the New York. Even Bourbon Street was relatively calm, with only a few late-late night drunks stumbling around the streets in the predawn light.
His entire body felt sore. Since Ryo\'s... exuberance... the night before on Bourbon Street, the quickie in the alley had done nothing to put an edge on the blonde\'s sex drive--in fact, they had ended up taking the stairs because they missed the floor three times taking the elevator (although, and Dee smirked as he thought of this, there were only two floors in the hotel), and even then the two had ended up fucking like animals halfway up the flight, Ryo\'s back pressed up against the wall as he sat on the railing, moaning like a porn star as Dee took him.
By the time they ended up at their room, both their hands fumbling to unlock the room, whatever that had gotten into Ryo had also gotten into Dee. The two barely made it to their bed, both men stripping clothing off themselves and one another, fingers ripping at stubborn clothing and catches. Finally, with minimal preparation, Ryo had been bent over the mattress, crying into the comforter as his lover thrust into him hard and fast.
Dee raised a hand to his face, rubbing the skin in an attempt to keep himself awake. He had never thought that he would be able to have sex with Ryo as much as he had the previous night, but it had been no effort at all (although now he was feeling the effects). At the moment, his lover was sleeping soundly in their bed, but something had drawn him to the window.
Now he knew why. The peacefulness over Jackson Quarter at the moment was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
He heard Ryo stir in the bed behind him, and turned towards the sound. Seeing Ryo sleeping in their bed, the sunlight streaming through the open windows and turning his tousled dark blonde hair a lighter shade of blonde, and his pale skin standing out even more against the dark comforter.
The man sleeping before him was without a doubt the most beautiful thing in his world.
As he walked towards the bed to join his lover, his foot caught against the leg of his jeans. The pants moved along with his foot, and the detective stopped momentarily when he heard something clink against the floor. He reached down and rooted around in his pockets, his fingers curling around something cold and metal, which he hauled out to get a look at.
It was a half-dollar sized charm on a chain, all in silver with what looked like sunrays around the face of the charm, which were inlaid with pieces of yellow glass. The face of the charm had a deeply engraved mark on it, filled in with a slick red paint. Dee held it up by the end of the chain, staring at the charm as it spun this way and that in the early morning light. What the hell is this?
Ryo stirred in their bed again, dark brown eyes sliding open. He smiled as he saw his lover, raising his hand towards the dark-haired man.
Dee tossed the charm over his shoulder haphazardly, not noticing when it skidded over to the balcony--and off the side--to fall into Ryo\'s arms. The blonde snuggled up to him, nuzzling his neck and pressing warm kisses against the skin.
\"Ryo, baby, I love you but I\'m tired,\" Dee protested, and the blonde chuckled.
\"Me too. But I sleep better when you\'re next to me.\"
The two lulled themselves to sleep, hands stroking up and down bare skin, and the gentle beating of one another\'s hearts playing soothing lullabies to the tired lovers.
----------
When he awoke later that day, Dee didn\'t even remember the charm.