This Coffin, This Weight
Mar. 20th, 2025 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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the_scent_of_lilacsFandom: Nosferatu 25
Characters: Orlok, Thomas
Word count: 287
Warnings | Rating: Mature content, potential SA trigger
Short fic based onbleodswean's prompt, 'This Coffin, This Weight.' No worries if this is not appropriate for the community, happy to delete or have mods delete.
He wanted to call it humiliation. He wanted to say that the fluid between his legs was blood, truly he believed that, though his first thought was of shame, of wet sheets and being too old to have done it, Father's disappointment and Nana rolling her eyes. Only Mother would understand though he dared not explain it to her. But when he moved his hand, his hand so heavy, pushed it between his thighs, there it was, there; too thick for urine, too thin for blood. Understanding came to him under the shock, the heaviness pinning his limbs, the obscene rhythm of the assailant's body rippling into his own, a surrender perfect in pain. He thought of Ellen then. Ellen! No, it was nothing like this. What they had was nothing like this.
'As she to you, so you to me,' the growl of the stinking thing, but he took heart from it for despite Orlok's power, the Count spoke false; Thomas could smell it on him.
'You lie,' he said, confident in this if nothing else. 'You know nothing of our love.'
The monster did not bother to respond, but lifted its clawed hand and placed it down upon Thomas' mouth, pressing so hard his tongue pushed against the palm.
'This weight,' it croaked as the sound of his emptying heart filled the room, 'be silent. Feel this weight.'
Thomas never revealed how he really knew the beast's prey was Ellen. Later he told Harding and Von Franz it was like a sixth sense. But the truth was, he understood Orlok's intention from the moment he thought his breath would leave his body at the monster's finish, when both screamed out her name.
Characters: Orlok, Thomas
Word count: 287
Warnings | Rating: Mature content, potential SA trigger
Short fic based on
bleodswean's prompt, 'This Coffin, This Weight.' No worries if this is not appropriate for the community, happy to delete or have mods delete.He wanted to call it humiliation. He wanted to say that the fluid between his legs was blood, truly he believed that, though his first thought was of shame, of wet sheets and being too old to have done it, Father's disappointment and Nana rolling her eyes. Only Mother would understand though he dared not explain it to her. But when he moved his hand, his hand so heavy, pushed it between his thighs, there it was, there; too thick for urine, too thin for blood. Understanding came to him under the shock, the heaviness pinning his limbs, the obscene rhythm of the assailant's body rippling into his own, a surrender perfect in pain. He thought of Ellen then. Ellen! No, it was nothing like this. What they had was nothing like this.
'As she to you, so you to me,' the growl of the stinking thing, but he took heart from it for despite Orlok's power, the Count spoke false; Thomas could smell it on him.
'You lie,' he said, confident in this if nothing else. 'You know nothing of our love.'
The monster did not bother to respond, but lifted its clawed hand and placed it down upon Thomas' mouth, pressing so hard his tongue pushed against the palm.
'This weight,' it croaked as the sound of his emptying heart filled the room, 'be silent. Feel this weight.'
Thomas never revealed how he really knew the beast's prey was Ellen. Later he told Harding and Von Franz it was like a sixth sense. But the truth was, he understood Orlok's intention from the moment he thought his breath would leave his body at the monster's finish, when both screamed out her name.
