by GR Griffin
He wasn't a revenant. Brahms was too conscious for that. But this was a single minded pursuit, Brahms focused only on Hel and that which he could take from her. His nostrils flared as he caught a stronger whiff of her scent. He had found her, she was close! He let out a growl, one that was as threatening a sound as Silmeria had ever heard. It made her shiver in response, Silmeria recognizing the predator within him.
Brahms sped forward, leaping over obstacles, ducking under tree branches. Hel's voice grew louder as he drew near. And then he came upon a clearing, Hel stopping short with a gasp when she saw him. Brahms stopped too, but his intent didn't change. For one instant he just looked her over, growling low in his throat. Hel was in a new dress, and there was no adornments around her neck. Silmeria could see the scarred side where Brahms had first fed from. Hel's hair pulled back to leave her neck exposed.
"Brahms." Breathed out Hel, but there was no fear in her voice. To Silmeria it only cemented her certainty that this Goddess was bait for Odin's trap. Hel had to know Odin was there, that the God would protect her.
Brahms did not respond in words, merely continuing to growl. Hel had been staring at his face, but now her eyes took a dip. She noted his nudity, the smallest of smiles curving her lips upwards. When she lifted her gaze back towards his eyes, Brahms was already moving. Hel gasped again, actually attempting to take a step back from the vampire that was now in front of her.
And then she was in his rough embrace, his arms locking around her in possession. To Silmeria's astonishment, Hel did not struggle. Instead her smile became happy, her eyes holding a near fanatical look to them. Her hands reached for his face, Brahms growling a warning. She did not heed it, laying on him hands that were trembling. Silmeria realized Hel was excited, and it left the former Valkyrie flabbergasted.
What happened next was even more astonishing, Hel tugging on Brahms. She needn't have exerted the energy, Brahms was already moving to go for her throat. When his fangs bit into her skin, Hel let out the most ecstatic of moans, the Goddess seeming not to care that Brahms was HURTING her. Hel's hands dropped to his shoulders, the Goddess digging her nails into his skin. That bit of pain only made Brahms more savage, the vampire pulling harder on her vein.
Hel did not hold herself still for the feeding, pushing herself against Brahms' naked form. Moving in an inexpert way that still drew a reaction out of the vampire. He LIKED feeling Hel move, enjoyed the pressure of her soft body on his. More than that, he liked the way his cock reacted, stiffening within seconds, and fueled by Hel's blood.
Hel continued to moan, to undulate in his embrace. It was driving him insane, Brahms starting to grind back. And as he moved, they fell to the clearing's floor, landing in the dirt that held very little grass. Hel was effectively pinned beneath him, and not caring one bit. She ran her hands down his muscled back, moaning a yes as she let her legs fall apart to accommodate him.
Her skirts were in the way, Brahms thrusting his erection against the silk fabric of her dress. He hadn't broken the feeding, Silmeria sensing he was nowhere near satisfied. In fact he was agitated, near restless and wanting. Silmeria remembered her own feeding, and how it had aroused her. She had fought against those feelings, but Brahms didn't. It was more like he couldn't, being controlled by all the desires coursing through him. The desire for Hel's blood and her body, Brahms wanting to possess every inch of the Goddess as his.
Silmeria senses Hel wanted that possession almost as much as Brahms, the Goddess taking his hands to guide them on her body. His claws snagged on the silk, tearing it open. She seemed to moan even more as his hands briefly touched upon her breasts. But there was little room for foreplay, Brahms too lost to that which was driving him. As ruthlessly as he had taken her neck, he would take her body, his claws tearing apart her clothing.
For one instant Hel would lose her ecstasy, screaming with the pain of a virgin's body newly tried. Her eyes seemed to clear of their haze, but only for a moment, Hel looking panicked as Brahms drove his length into her. Her hands tried pushing him away, but Brahms, growling in warning, took hold of her wrists. He'd press them back down, holding Hel down as he continued to move.
It was only a moment that Hel was defiant. And then she settled down, perhaps giving herself over to the feelings Brahms' cock was stroking through her. She resumed moaning, moving with him, lifting her legs up to lock around him. She seemed to be trying to guide Brahms movements, trying to use her legs to control the pace of his thrusting.
Silmeria felt how good Brahms was feeling. It went beyond the singular sensations of feeding and sex, to the powerful force of both combined. She felt the tension in him easing, the blood working it's magic as Brahms tried to keep up his frantic pace. He was no longer feeding so hard at Hel's neck, but he was moving his hips with a frenetic energy. Building up feelings in his lower half, feeling the first pleasure he had felt in what seemed like decades.
Silmeria didn't know what to make of the feelings. It was a strange experience, Silmeria learning just how good sex felt for a man. As strange as it was, she could not deny how arousing it felt. A part of her even wondered how much better sex would feel if the act actually had meaning behind it, if the person who was one's partner actually mattered. She knew Hel did not matter to Brahms, even now he cared nothing for her beyond her blood and the pleasure she could give him. He was using her, using Hel in the worst way imaginable.
But Hel didn't mind, moaning and crying out. Letting out little ooohs of satisfaction, all her pain forgotten. When Brahms lifted his head from her throat, his lips and chin were stained with her blood. He looked at her, but did not truly SEE Hel. He just saw the vessel on which all his desires could be satisfied. He began to grunt, to groan, his body doing a mighty heave into her. Hel all but squealed, arching up off the ground as best she could.
Silmeria might have screamed then too. It was a scream of shock, Brahms' pleasure rippling through HER. She experienced his orgasm, felt the surge of relief go through him as he flooded Hel's insides with his seed. A great shudder shook him, Brahms wanting nothing more than to collapse on top of Hel. But at the same time he felt energized, as though he could move mountains with his bare hands.
The combination of sex and feeding, it's aftermath was a tiring experience. But to rest was dangerous, especially out in the open. Brahms started to lift himself up off Hel's body, the urge to crawl back into the crevasse under Yggsdrasil strong within him. All in order to hide away, wait out the healing the blood would give him. It was already working, Brahms feeling a scratchy sensation on his scalp. His hair was trying to grow back, forming tiny, dark brown spikes.
He didn't get far, Hel keeping her legs locked in place around him. At some point Brahms had let go of her wrists, distracted by the odd sensation of his hair growing back at a rapid pace. Hel reached for him with her freed hands, grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him back down on her. He let out a confused growl, then froze. He had gotten a good look at the woman beneath him, the Goddess that was clinging to him.
Any pleasure Brahms had been feeling instantly went away, the vampire staring in horror at Hel. She was shining, literally glowing with happiness. Her skin was far too pale for his liking, and her eyes held a glassy sheen to them. She looked at Brahms and yet was not all there, as though something had broken in her mind. That thought made Brahms uneasy, Silmeria realizing he blamed himself for any damage that may have been done to Hel's mind.
He had to get away from her. He knew that. Not only get away, but STAY away from the goddess. But was such a thing possible now? Brahms had tasted Hel's blood, not once but twice. He was sure he was addicted to her taste, and Brahms was certain he would always seek her out if the opportunity presented itself. Especially with her here in Nifleheim.
His horror mounting, he fought with the Goddess. Fought against her clinging embrace. Even weakened by blood loss, Hel gamely held on, making it more of an effort than Brahms would have liked to escape. She'd actually scream when he got free, a despair
ing look on her face as she tried to scramble up off the ground to come after him. But Hel was in pain, actually wincing from the rough possession he had done of her body. That wince only made Brahms feel worse, and was the last sight he had of Hel, before he took off out of the clearing. Hel knew she could not keep up with him, and her screams rang out. Angry, despairing, wretched. They seemed to follow Brahms all the way back to Yggsdrasil, and even once he buried himself into his crevasse, he heard Hel's voice.
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Chapter 34 : Thirty Four
The next days were a new kind of torture for Brahms, the vampire trying to resist with all his might the allure the Goddess and her blood held for him. He didn't care about the healing Hel's blood had given him, didn't care that his body no longer screamed in pain, or that his hair had finally grown back. To Brahms it wasn't a fair trade, what had he given Hel in return for the healing her blood had bestowed upon him? Nothing. His face often burned with shame, Brahms remembering how he had not only taken Hel's blood, but her body. It was double the violation, Brahms neither gentle nor caring towards the Goddess.
Those first few hours were the worse where shame was concerned. Brahms often had to withhold his groans of embarrassment, flashes of memory coming to him, reminding him of the things he had done to Hel. It mattered not that the Goddess had seemed to enjoy herself. Brahms knew he had done her wrong.
He remembered the look in her eyes, the glassy sheen to them that spoke of a mind that was not all there. And that memory would make him moan anew, Brahms knowing he had done damage, perhaps irreparably so, to the Goddess. To her very mind. Something had to have broken, to snap, for the Goddess to come seeking him out. For Hel to have come to enjoy the act that had hurt her so badly the first time.
Even as Brahms stayed hidden, he could hear her. Hel was wandering along the opposite shore of Hvergelmir. Her voice was at times frantic, showing her near desperate need to find him. Other times it was beguiling, seductive even as Hel let out entreaties, trying to draw Brahms out of hiding. The sound of her voice was driving him mad, Brahms gritting his teeth and wishing she would go away.
She didn't. Hel was determined to find him. At times he would hear the sound of ether dispersing, the Goddess not above defending herself against the demons who would seek to prey on her. Even knowing Hel was in danger, was not enough to get Brahms out of his crevasse. That only added to his self loathing, Brahms knowing he should be there, actively defending the Goddess. But he feared going to her, feared that any contact, brief though it might be, would end with him sinking his fangs into her body.
Sometimes Hel broke down sobbing. It was different, worse than the crying she had done at his sick bed. Here the sound was so forlorn, so shattered and broken, it grated on his nerves. Hel's cries were plaintive at times, the Goddess speaking out loud how she didn't understand why Brahms would forsake her. It hurt him to hear her like this, but Brahms felt his abandonment of her was for the best.
The thing inside him didn't agree. The sickness, or parasite as his brother had called it, continued to make it's demands. It was renewed, feeding off the life and vitality Brahms had taken from the Goddess. Even as Brahms flourished, so did the parasite. It would actively feed off his energy, and the fact that so much of the blood went towards healing Brahms, well it only served to quicken his hunger.
Was there ever a moment where Brahms could be at peace? It didn't seem that way. Not to Brahms, and certainly not to Silmeria. Not with Hel a constant presence, her voice always beseeching Brahms to come to her. It would only grow more difficult, Brahms finding as his hunger began to return, the more pressing was his desire to go to her.
Silmeria was right with him as Brahms struggled against himself. She felt his pain, felt the hunger and how it slowly drew everything from him. Felt him ride out the last of his energy reserves, the vampire trying to ignore the Goddess who so foolishly placed herself in danger time and time again. Silmeria felt it all, the self loathing, and the grief he gave into whenever he slipped, whenever he so much as imagined going to Hel, taking her a third time.
The struggle not to feed was a losing battle once Brahms had tasted blood for the first time. The parasite within him would not be denied, slowly taking over Brahms' instincts, urging him forward so that the only thing the vampire knew was the satisfying of his hunger. Silmeria could sympathize, remembering how hungry she had been, how she had suffered with pangs of starvation for the three nights she had denied herself. She realized the hunger only grew worse once a vampire has tasted blood for the first time. As though with the act of satisfying the hunger, it damned you forever to crave more of blood.
It was no surprise to Silmeria when Brahms eventually gave in to his hunger. The very struggle within him, the fight to resist, had only served to weaken him all the quicker. To a vampire, resisting one's hunger was an ultimately futile act. Especially when a food source was so near.
She was with Brahms as he crawled out of his hiding spot. With him as he plunge into the waters of the springs, swimming determinedly towards Hel. She even hungered as he did for the Goddess, Silmeria wanting her blood even though she knew the act would only shame Brahms, make him fill with even more self loathing. In the moment, Silmeria was as much an addict as Brahms was, their drug of choice that warm liquid that flowed in the Goddess' veins.
They'd find the Goddess quick enough, Hel resting on the shores of Hvergelmir. Such was her distressed state that she hadn't bothered to fix her dress, the silk hanging off her in tatters. It left her body obscenely exposed, but Brahms barely took note of her near naked state. His eyes were drawn to her neck, drawn to the scarred side where he had sunk his fangs in twice.
Hel did not wait for the vampire to approach her. She scrambled off the ground, and practically threw herself into Brahms' arms. Even with that sign of her eagerness, Brahms grabbed her. A low, animalistic growl escaped him, the vampire not trusting that Hel would try to escape. But she didn't make an opposing move, instead pressing eagerly against him. Hel's hands would touch him, running over the muscles of his arms, smoothing palms over that broad chest of his.
Neither Brahms nor Silmeria had any patience for Hel's touches. With the preternatural speed of the vampire, Brahms would drive his fangs into her neck. The scarred skin would split open, the warm blood gushing into his mouth. Those first mouthfuls weren't enough to appease him, his stomach still clenching violently in starvation. That would make him pull harder on her vein, drawing in even more blood in a desperate attempt to soothe the hunger.
Hel would moan, her eyes falling close as she gave herself over to the feeding. But she didn't stop touching Brahms. Her hands would slip behind him, feeling down his back. Her nails would scratch over his skin, her hands would cup and knead an ass that was as finely sculpted as the rest of him. Silmeria was uneasy with the liberties the Goddess was taking, something like an unnatural, irrational surge of jealousy filling her. She tried to stay focused on the taste of Hel's blood, but even that was ruined by what the Goddess was doing to the body Silmeria shared with Brahms.
She tried to ignore when Hel's hands pushed Brahms against her, the Goddess rubbing herself against his erection. Tried not to feel the sensation of her nails digging into his ass, or how soft Hel's skin felt against Brahms' hardness. But sex seemed to go hand and hand with feeding, once Brahms had taken enough blood to satisfy his hunger, his appetite and attention turned towards sating his body's desires.
Silmeria could have screamed when Brahms lifted Hel up off the ground. Could have raked her own claws across the memories, protesting the way the Goddess locked her legs around the vampire. Once had been bad enough, but to experience Hel in this manner again? Even with her mind clouded by Brahms' crazed inner predator, Silmeria rebelled against what was being done.
Even worse, she knew with a certainty that Brahms would be horrified once he returned to his senses. Silmeria felt sick with loathing, trying to block out part of Brahms' memories. Trying not to let th
e pleasure overtake her, Silmeria not wanting to enjoy the acts he did with Hel.
He never kissed her. That was an act too tender, to intimate for what Brahms was doing to Hel. It was no great affection that drove him to mate with the Goddess, no lingering feelings of love and devotion. This was pure need, a pure sating of his lusts. It would be an act repeated, sex and the great self loathing that followed happening two more times before Brahms began to rethink his stance of avoidance.
It was clear that trying to stay away from the Goddess was an impossible act. He was as drawn to her, as she was to him, though he couldn't understand why. This early in his experience, in his memories, Brahms had no concept of what he was doing. He certainly had no reason to expect that the very act of feeding could bind a pair together. That he could have in fact made a blood slave out of Hel.
No, it would take many years, and many feedings before Brahms began to take note of patterns and develop his theories about the vampires. Right now, hidden away in his crevasse, he could only marvel at the fact that Hel constantly sought him out. He was no closer to knowing what he had done, how he had affected her. Her mind was damaged, but not in the way he thought.
It was for the sixth feeding that Brahms went to Hel willingly. He did not even try to wait out the hunger. He would not give it the opportunity to take him over yet again. Nor would he attempt to use Hel beyond feeding off of her. It was time to set limits, to place boundaries on this thing between them. He dared not call it a relationship. It was too one sided for that.
Hel as always, was waiting for him, a dreamy expression on her face. She was never all there, her mind seeming focused only on pleasing Brahms. She still hadn't bothered to clothe herself, as though it did not matter. It was just a sign of how much he had damaged her, because the Goddess had always been one for decorum, prim and proper to the point she would have been scandalized to have them both be naked around each other.
