Steeped in Blood

BY : Mercury in Retrograde
Category: 1 through F > American Horror Story
Dragon prints: 226
Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

She was pinned to a bed, softer than any she had ever known. There was a weight on top of her, pushing her further into the mattress. Silk sheets cooled her even as her body burned.
A warm, wet mouth was pressing kisses to her neck. Stubble grated at her skin in a way that made her gasp, writhing beneath him. 
Marlena looked down her body to meet Michael Langdon’s beautiful cerulean eyes, eclipsed by black. He lunged forward, propping on his forearm to gaze down at her. His blond hair fell around them, encasing her completely as his hips rolled gently against hers. 
His face lowered tantalizingly slowly before he finally, finally captured her lips. The moment they collided, the teasing was done. He devoured her mouth; tongues clashing, teeth biting. 
She couldn’t breathe. 
She didn’t want to breathe, if it meant losing his touch.
Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer.
Her entire body burned with need. She had never wanted anything the way she wanted to consume him. Her leg wound around his hips, forcing him to rock against her as she desperately tried to alleviate the ache between her thighs.
He broke the kiss, scraping his teeth harshly along her bottom lip. She whimpered from the pain and the loss.
“So. Fucking. Needy.” Michael scraped his teeth along her jaw and she fucking prayed he left a mark. 
“Please!” she begged.
“Please, what?”
Kiss me. Fuck me. Hurt me. Love me.
“Tell me, little one," he taunted.
“Touch me!”
“Your wish is my command.”
Michael descended, crawling down her body and between her legs...

Marlena awoke in a soft, unfamiliar bed. That’s how she knew it wasn’t hers. The grays’ beds were practically slabs of rock covered with a layer of thin foam. 
Her breath was still unsteady as she rolled to her back. She could feel the wetness gathered between her legs. She ground her thighs together, trying to stifle and alleviate the neediness while her eyes adjusted to the dimness. 
Christ, that had been intense.
She’d had dirty dreams before but never one that felt so fucking real. Even now, she could feel his breath on her neck, the heaviness of his body above hers.
Still, she wasn’t blind. Michael Langdon had offered her comfort after she killed the Fist. It was no surprise that he haunted her dreams.
She threw the covers back, her feet alighting to the ground softly. With a quick adjustment of her collar and smooth down of her dress, she cautiously turned the doorknob to peek outside first. Of course, the Fist was dead but Ms. Venable had probably chosen another guard from the grays. There were a few who could take her place. 
After deeming the coast clear, Marlena walked to the room that she shared with another gray, Mallory. “Where the hell have you been?” Her eyes were owl-like with concern behind her glasses. 
Marlena let her hair down, fluffing it out with her fingers. “Cleaning the library… why?” She brushed her hair in even strokes while Mallory gave her the lowdown on Michael. 
“Have you met him yet?” 
“No,” Marlena lied, erring on the side of caution. “I said I was in the library, remember?” 
Mallory frowned slightly. “That’s weird. I thought I saw you at the meeting…” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, anyway, he was kinda dickish about everything… oh, quit acting like you don’t know!” Mallory smacked her on the arm lightly. “You were there on the balcony!” 
Marlena put the brush down and searched Mallory’s face for signs of drug use. What the hell she was on? One moment, she said one thing, the next she said something completely different. “Oh, right, I was there on the balcony! I must have been in the library some other day!” 
Mallory nodded her head with excitement. “See?! I told you! Anyway, so when he talked about interviewing us, how did you feel? Do you think you’ll make it to the Sanctuary?”
“It’s hard to say now. He hasn’t interviewed anyone yet, not that we know of. Maybe he’ll take some grays for the sake of doing menial work like what we do here.” 
Mallory’s shoulders slumped and she sighed deeply. “You’re right… that’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want to live like this for the rest of my life, waiting on people like them!” She jabbed a finger in the general direction of the purples private quarters then crossed her arms over her chest. 
Marlena put her hand on Mallory’s shoulder then pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sure it won’t be anything like that. He said it was a lot different than here!” Marlena was grasping for straws in an effort to comfort her friend. Since she hadn’t been at the meeting, she had no clue what Michael had said. 
Mallory wiped the tears from her eyes then sat back. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. The other alternative is the pill that could end it all in one minute.” 
Outside, the signal was given for the grays’ time to eat. After setting the table and serving themselves, the grays sat down to eat half a cube. Ms. Venable appeared in the doorway like the curse that she was, a gloating smile on her face. She was confident that she was going to pass the interview and therefore wanted to make the grays’ lives as miserable as possible. “I should like to remind you all that although Mr. Langdon is here, my rules are still to be obeyed. Therefore, we are making the necessary cutbacks to your rations.” She turned on her heel and left without another word. The grays ate their cubes in silence. Marlena wondered what was going on. Nobody breathed a word about the Fist or about her instigation of the cube war. Had Michael used some sort of magic on them? She had heard of a coven in New Orleans but believed all of that was hocus pocus. The more logical explanation was that the food was drugged. 
Marlena stopped eating, opting instead to lightly poke the cube with the fork. 
“What are you doing?” Mallory chastised, “you heard what she said. This is all we’re going to get.” She raised an eyebrow, pointing her fork at Marlena’s cube. “Are you gonna finish that?” Marlena shook her head and pushed her cube onto Mallory’s plate. “Hey, what’s with you? You’re too quiet. You worried about the interview?” 
“Sort of. Like you said, I don’t want to go someplace else only to have to wait on those vapid turds.” 
Mallory choked a little on her cube. “You can always decline it.” 
Marlena shrugged her shoulders in resignation. “Then that’s what I’ll do.” 
The signal sounded to end the grays’ mealtime, Mallory scraping her plate with a hasty ‘oh my god.’ They quickly gathered up their dishes, washed and dried them then went to their assigned areas to clean until it was time for the purples’ dinner. Marlena’s assigned area was the dining room. While she cleaned, the telltale click of Ms. Venable’s heels clicked on the polished floor then stopped in the doorway. 
“Whore’s hair. You’re named after a whore. How fitting.” 
“You know something, Ms. Venable? As much as you berate and accuse me of some imaginary sexual sin, I sense that you do it because there was a lack of sexual intimacy in your life.” 
Ms. Venable’s face tightened with anger and hatred. “Watch your tongue, whore! I’ve always wanted to see it ripped from your head!” 
“Likewise, you venomous old snake!” 
The paneled wall suddenly opened behind them, causing them to gasp. Michael leaned against the dark wood with a smirk on his handsome face. “Ladies, what an enchanting way to spend an evening, regaling each other with your original sins.” He paused to let the fact sink in that he had been listening. “Ms. Venable.” With a graceful turn of his hand toward the female embodiment of tyranny, Michael made a sweeping gesture to the inside of his room. “Shall we proceed with your interview?” 
Marlena rolled her eyes when the other woman smiled beamingly, like she was a teenage girl going out on her first date. “Yes, Mr. Langdon.” She turned around and made a gagging motion as Ms. Venable practically wiggled her hips. 
Probably the only male attention she’s ever had
The interview went differently than expected. Ms. Venable left the room practically in tears. The worst part was that the red-headed whore Marlena saw her crying. She hurried away as fast as she could, the sound of Michael’s soft voice intoning Marlena’s name. Her blood boiled at the way he spoke her name— soft and respectful, neither of which she deserved. She wished the worst of deaths possible upon her as she hobbled to her room. 
“I actually want to skip out on the interview,” Marlena said to Michael when he told her it was her turn. “I’d rather die here than to continue serving these assholes.” 
Michael crooked his finger at her and she hesitantly went over to him. “Let’s just have a little talk.” 
“What about exactly?” 
“About how you were able to break almost every bone in the Fist’s body.” 
Marlena sat in a plush chair while Michael perched on the side of the desk. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” 
“How am I not making it easy?” He moved close enough so that she could touch him. “I don’t make you nervous, do I?” 
Marlena feigned a smile. “No, not at all… what exactly did you want to know about how I killed the Fist?” 
“How did you feel? What was going through your mind?” 
“I was angry, I felt like I was being punished unjustly…” Marlena paused and chewed her lip then looked up from underneath lowered eyelids. “I’m sure Ms. Venable told you all about how I was solely responsible, right?” 
“You mean the cabin fever that I walked in on? She vaguely referenced it during her interview. I want to hear the details from you, though.” 
Marlena didn’t believe him. How could Ms. Venable not do  everything in her power to incriminate her? “All right, very well. It all started when Ms. Venable told me to change my hairstyle. According to her rules, there is only one way for a gray to style her hair— a tight bun that makes her head hurt all day. For what it’s worth, I’ve tried reasoning with her by suggesting nicely that we could wear our hair in braids. She didn’t want to hear what I had to say. So, on that day in particular, I had had enough of her tyranny and decided to style my hair in a way that was provocative—a penis. When I returned to the dining room, everyone laughed, purples and grays alike. After she left, Mr. Gallant adjusted the testicles. He said they were crooked. While he was fixing them, Coco flew into this crazy jealous rage, going on about how he was her stylist and he shouldn’t be touching any other woman’s hair but hers. Dinah interrupted her tirade by reminding her that just moments ago, she was laughing like everyone else and why did she have to ruin everyone’s fun. That’s when Coco threw her plate at Dinah and all hell broke loose. The Fist came and got me after you showed up and put Ms. Venable in her place.” 
Michael had paced the room while Marlena spoke and sat in  his oversized, throne-like chair towards the end. He placed his hand over his mouth to cover up a grin when she revealed the details of her hairstyle. Towards the end, however, he wanted to engage in some tongue-ripping of his own. She spoke evenly and graciously, not melodramatically or wheedling for his favor. 
“Have you ever done something like what you did to the Fist to anyone else?” 
“Once, when I got my first job and I had a really bad day, a crow came out of nowhere and attacked this lady that was rude to me. It plucked out her eyeballs then…” A vision flashed before her eyes in which she saw the crow land on a car, blood and vitreous fluid dripping from its beak. “…it spoke to me, in some sort of weird language, like gibberish… but I could tell it was a language nonetheless…” 
Michael cleared his throat to cover up the sound that threatened to claw its way out. An orgasmic groan was a polite way of describing it. “Who are you? Who sent you?” 
Marlena noticed the way his hand was splayed on the table. He was fighting to control himself. “I don’t understand the question. Nobody sent me. I was in the library when the SWAT team took me.” 
“You weren’t on the roster for this outpost.” 
Marlena swallowed and licked her lips. “I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s not like I snuck in here.” 
Michael stood up from his chair and walked to her. Very gently, he grasped her jaw and turned her face slowly to the side. He was searching for a sign, an indicator of who or what she was, why he felt connected to her, drawn to her. The tiny birthmark just below the shelf of her jaw resembled a blemish but it was for his eyes, and his eyes alone, to discern the mark of his Father. 
“I have to go. Now.” 
Marlena sat in the chair for several awkward moments, paralyzed as it were. 
One moment, he was there. 
The next, he was gone.

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