Okay would you believe me if I said this STARTED as 'heehoo Ferid fight scene with a trained Reader?' It uh. Got a bit out of control but hope y'all like it. And there is smut at the end.
TW: Ferid himself, obviously; violence, trauma, possibly OOC sweet traits for the terrible bastard; manipulation, drugging, Dubcon; horror, my beloved; dead kids (literal) do not eat.
It happens when Ferid is away on a mission for Krul. A military campaign that lasts far too long, one that makes him crave the attention of the sweet pet waiting at home for him. He spends his nights longing for her touch; he spends his days dreaming of her blood. Every day makes him more and more impatient for the reunion, until the campaign is conquered and the livestock are packed away in trucks to be shipped off. Finally, he can go home and do everything he’s dreamed of….
Except that’s all it remains: a dream.
Ferid gets home to a burning cavern city. Imperial Demon Army troops clash with vampiric ones. Black-clad soldiers steal away his lambs. But he doesn’t care. Not about easily replaceable blood bags, not about the city—where are you? He fights his way through the city. No amusement nor playful tactics, just brutal efficiency and cutting through anyone who stands in his way.
He razes a bloody trail to a manor steeped in icy quiet. No stirring steps of a mouse trying to hide away from him. No little breaths of his dear pet sleeping in his bed. His entire body locks into panic mode. In a vampiric blur, he tears apart cabinets, closets, the Moon Demons lying in wait for him, the servants he left to care for you—but your scent’s so faded. It’s the only thing that matters, and it’s gone.
Two years later, “—and I think that’s about it, Lieutenant Colonel,” you state, heels clicking in a small salute. Guren barely grunts as he flips the paper onto his desk. It flares, flutters, and settles on a pile of other seemingly ignored reports. It annoys you, a little. But you’re too tired to really try and start something with him.
“Good. You’ll get a three-day leave, then I’m sending you and your squad to support a raid in Kawaguchi. Dismissed.” A flippant wave of the hand gives you leave to scurry back to your teammates. A few days off sounds absolutely lovely after the campaign you just got through. It’s not enough to really relax, but in such a war-torn time you’ll take what you can get. You find the other girls snacking away in the mess hall.
“Hey!” Hina chirps your name as she spots you. Her cinnamon-brown buns bounce with overenthusiastic waving you over; red ribbons match the red scarf around her neck. Her deep, dark eyes shine like black coffee in the artificial light.
“How’s Miyu?” You ask, as you slide into a seat next to Airi. The thoughtful redhead slides a tray towards you, stacked high with your favorites—your trade for doing the report instead of her.
“Fine, luckily. She just rolled her ankle. We should be able to get out there again soon.” Riko rolls her sharp, blue eyes.
“Guren says we’re getting a couple days off,” you sigh in relief. A few bites melt away some of the tension.
“Yes!” Hina pumps her fist.
“You’re just excited to see your boyfriend,” Airi teases.
“Don’t get pregnant,” Riko chimes in.
“I think that’d be fine, wouldn’t it?” Hina scratches at her cheek. “I mean…. Be fruitful and multiply, right?”
“Is that what you want?” You huff softly, bumping your shoulder against hers.
“It’d be an inconvenience,” Riko mutters. “We’d have to replace you.”
“You’re just jealous because you don’t have a boyfriend!”
“I can help with that! Apparently there’s a social happening later tonight.” Airi claps, practically beaming. It cuts through the tension with a cheery spark to her big brown eyes. “Why don’t we go? We can meet Haruto and his friends—”
“Haru-ta.” Hina mutters, folding her arms.
“You get it wrong every time!”
“I’m tryingggggg, I promise!!”
“Well you better get it right when you meet him.”
“Let’s all go meet him! It’ll be fun!” Airi lightly jostles the blushing Hina’s shoulders. “C’moooon, he has to have at least one cute friend, right? Right? You speak so highly of him, Hinaaa, come onnnn. Help a girl out—”
“Uh—” You start, trying to break through the lovestruck stammers and girlish cajoling. But Hina stops when she sees the look in your eye.
“…I mean, if you want to?” She smiles sheepishly.
“I’m. Pretty tired after the mission, you know?” You try, poking at your food. The flavors start to feel a bit… faded. Or perhaps that’s just your nerves turning your throat into a desert.
“I mean, it might be good for you to get out there?” Airi coaxes gently. And you think about meeting a nice man at a barracks party—
“If you ever willingly let another man touch you, I’ll rip him to shreds in front of you,” Ferid whispers in the darkest corner of your memories.
Bile rises in your throat and you get up from the long table. Chatter feels too loud. Airi’s voice feels too prickly. Riko’s glare makes your skin crawl. Hina stops both from following you, something, something, “…her space….”
All you can focus on is getting to the bathroom before you get sick in the dining room.
Don’t think about the basement.
Ferid’s life has been nothing but a numb hell since you left him. After his rage in the city, he spent days looking for you. He takes back his city. He builds bars onto your windows. He gets everything he needs to subdue you: sedatives in his sleeves, rope at the ready, a speech about good behavior. Weeks pass. When he finds no trace, he has to assume you’re dead. Briefly, he debates joining you. A month. Two. War calls and he goes through the motions. After a while, it’s like returning to default settings. Cruelty, the barest of amusements, messing with Mikaela, pissing off Krul—anything to not think of you. Anything to feel… something.
It doesn’t work, but it fuels his existence like a spark to wet wood. There’s smoke in his schemes. Passively, he shelves a hand and flips through his paperwork. Funny. These two years have passed by so quickly, yet his time with you feels… even shorter. Like a blink compared to a minute; he has you for less than a blink in his long life. His eyes skim sentences. Without you, there’s no fire in the hearth at home. There’s no point. A vampire needs no heat to live. And yet… without you, he’s colder than ever. He glances outside the window. The ruined towers of human civilization turn to shadowed spires beneath the moon.
Perhaps Mikaela will run into Yuuichiro, and he can watch that drama play out.
Perhaps there will be a tasty lamb or two in Kawaguchi for him to bring home.
Some new flavor. Something…. Anything. These are the only things to pass his time, now. Teenage angst and the candied blood of children. Krul’s orders are too boring. A livestock inspection. Really, now? His sardonic grin turns mirthful. Does she really think he’s that far gone? Or is she pissing him off because she’s annoyed at his behavior? That small spark of emotion dulls again. That is exactly what she’s doing, isn’t it? Sending her little angel with him too. Ugh. He drags a hand down his face.
Peace spirals in your small dorm room. Riko’s soft, black hair slips through your fingers as you carefully braid it before bed. It’s become a bit of a ritual between you two. Something calm and quiet when you don’t have to worry about a mission. There’s no expectation of conversation. Just the quiet intimacy of brushing your friend’s hair, until she murmurs, “Airi means well, y’know. She just… you don’t have to tell her, but she wouldn’t get pushy like that if she knew.”
You know she’s just trying to help, but it makes your anxiety spike slightly. Riko’s got a protective spark born from living such a harsh world so young. She adapts too quickly. And she’s the only one who’s managed to get close enough to your past. The warm, yellow lamp hums with quiet electricity. A trembling breath shudders through your ribs. “I. I know. He’s just—hard to talk about.”
“You make him sound like an ex and not a rape-y aristocrat.” She leans back, an icy-blue deadpan leveling with your gaze.
“I know.” And it’s harder to deny. Because some part of you does feel that way, even if the logical part says you were a convenient pet. Lightly, you poke her head back to restart the twin braids. Working your fingers through the threads of night-clad velvet makes your tensions ease.
“I think she just thinks a guy would make you feel less lonely. Or something like that.” Her shoulders bounce in a shrug.
“I know. It’s. I just can’t.” Because how do you explain years of twisted devotion? How do you explain the pleasure-pain of vampire bites, kisses, rewards, punishments? It’s an impossible pit of a past you hover over. Every time you think of it, you feel the abyss; you feel the uncertain horror of whether you… felt that way about Ferid. If you regret everything. About your past with him. And even Riko only knows the smallest piece of it. You finish one half of her head and distantly think of silver silk you once weaved. The other side is a bit easier to start. Part it three ways and fold and fold. Tucking one lock between two fingers, then trading it out.
You know he scares you. He has… hurt you. But he’s also been… better, at times. Sometimes, you think you thought he loved you. To this day, you’re still not sure. Because if you love someone, how can you be so cruel to them on occasion? It twists up in your head, walking that knotted tightrope of right-wrong-right. And the worst part is you know he’s alive. Sightings of noble vampires are pretty well-documented. Everyone gets a warning if they’re heading to a last-known spot.
Ferid lurks at the back of your mind at all times. Even now, in the middle of the night, in a military stronghold, on a soft-ish bed in black pajama shorts; far, far away from the luxurious cottons and velvet drapes, he still haunts you. A soft, relieved breath slips out of your lips. You’re not there. You’re not in that gilded cage. And… you don’t have a doting, terrible vampire hovering over you at all times. It hollows some part of your heart. Sadness, then worry. Should you really… miss him? The braiding’s repetitive, soft movements ground you. “It’s hard to explain, I guess.”
“…I have to imagine.” A soft sigh parts the silence as you tie off the braid. Riko turns, looking up to you. She’s so… small, like this. Even if you know how ferocious she can be on the battlefield, she’s still just a kid. “I can just tell her you’ve had bad experiences with men, y’know? Get her off your back a bit?”
“I. Yeah, just. Well, I feel like it’d be better if I told her, but I really hate it.” You flop back on your bed to avoid her eyes. Sometimes, they reminded you of that wolf dog you saw in the newspaper one time; eerie and slightly wild, they unnerve you a little. Does she see your thoughts? ‘Bad experience’ doesn’t… feel right, not about all of it. Some of your memories, maybe….
She flops onto the carpet to open a thick tome. Her feet kick in the air, like she’s studying for an easy quiz instead of learning advanced curses. “Well, just think about it. I can go with you if you ever want to, or I can just tell her to cut it out.”
“Thanks, Riko.” And you mean it. You know she won’t tell a soul about the name you can’t utter aloud. That’s just… who she is. Harsh, quiet, and a bit hard to read at times, but kind and protective. And way too good at killing things.
“I gotchu,” she grins up at you, a little awkwardly. “Guren still have you going to the psychologist?”
“I’m surprised we still have one that’s alive, to be honest.”
“Yeah, I cannot imagine what that guy hears on a daily basis.”
You snicker softly, shaking your head. After a while, you murmur. “…He wasn’t like that all the time….”
“My Lamb!” Ferid coos above you, startling you from slumber. Before you can even process, flowers swing into your blurry vision. “Happy Anniversary!”
“I… what?” You blink up at him, still barely aware.
“It’s the six-month anniversary of you coming to live with me!” He chirps, like he didn’t basically kidnap you. “So, I saw these and figured I would participate in a more… human, tradition.” He smiles like a perfect prince as he lets you sit up and take the flowers. They’re beautiful. Rich yellow buttercups, vivid pink camellias, bright blue cornflowers and brilliant red roses—a living sunset in your hands. But as you clutch at them in wonder, something pricks your palm.
“Ah, I missed one.” Ferid clucks his tongue. Gently, he grasps your hand and licks the blood off. Then, nuzzles your palm. “Sorry, Lamb….” Your scarred pulse jolts a little. A soft chuckle puffs along your vein. He kisses it to steady it. “Easy, easy….”
But instinct says the thorn is there because he wants it to be. He’s too precise of a creature to miss something like that. You try to just admire the flowers and avoid his eyes, but he notices. Lithe fingers tilt your chin to look at him. And he knows that you know. That expression… hesitant and anxious… pinches at something in his chest. A small pain he can’t name. Why are you acting this way…? There’s some part of him that… doesn’t want that. No, don’t look away…. Look at him. Does it hurt? He really isn’t planning on anything more than that light mischief—
Ferid’s eyes slip open. He blinks once, twice. A warm bedroom fades to a moonlit office. What an odd dream to have. One that leaves his dead chest feeling hollow. If he rips out his heart, will it still be there? Or is it dust that sits in the blackhole of his soul? Well. He’s seen it exposed, at least once. Sometimes, he swears he felt it beat when you did something oddly cute. Lithe fingers drag down his cheeks. Why dream of the anniversary? The look in your eyes… what was it? Fear. Yes. That wasn’t… what he wanted you to feel in that moment.
Flowers are so hard to find, nowadays. It takes effort to get some, take them home, cultivate them. Why let the humans ruin something like that when he can take the rare spots of natural color home? There was no way you would’ve even seen any, back then. So… for a six-month anniversary, he’d thought…. What had he thought? He thinks about it for a good long moment. Perhaps… he wanted you to smile? Perhaps you would still be with him, if that thorn wasn’t on the rose. The thorn he left there, just to see a deliciously startled expression and get a small sip of blood.
What a truly unworthy trade.
He picks up another piece of paper, and flourishes off his signature. Mechanically returning to work, as the moon continues on its arc across the sky.
Someone knocks on your door later that night, when you’re evading your dreams. Nightmares? It doesn’t matter when it’s a coinflip of whatever your brain decides to conjure up. Shaking your head, you head over after another, smaller knock. Sheepishly, Airi hovers at the edge of the doorframe. “Hey, uh. You didn’t eat so I boxed some food and. Well.” She coughs slightly. “Are you okay?”
Your squad’s shield isn’t stupid. A bit bullish at times, overbearing at others, but her big brown eyes are filled with nothing but pure concern for you. And you don’t know why you haven’t told her. Riko’s the easiest to open up to, since she just… listens and lets you talk, a lot of the time. And that’s only the things you can talk about. Not the… sweeter moments. The manipulative ones. The thoughts about the basement. “Not really.”
“Do you… want to talk about it? I mean, it’s okay if not. Like, if something happened, I’m in your corner. Y’know?” Airi tries to smile as if she’s not worried as hell that you hate her for pushing so much. The constant worry that she’s too much. Something like that, but you’re too tired to name. She tries so hard to keep everyone decently okay in the literal apocalypse…. A kindness yet to be killed by it.
“I was a noble vampire’s pet,” you just end up blurting it out. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the way you’ve known her for two years and know you can tell her. And you’ve tried before. It just. Feels like his hand is covering your mouth. Telling you that you can’t tell anyone or else. But, right now… it’s easier to pry the words from his phantom fingers. “He’s the, uh. Reason I can’t. I just can’t with the socials, I’m sorry.”
Even if it’s not. You hold your arm and avoid her eyes a bit.
“Oh. Oh, God, I—” She puts a hand over her mouth. The other clutches the Styrofoam box a little closer to herself. “No, no, I’m sorry, I—shit, I didn’t know.”
“I know, I. I have a hard time talking about it.”
“I fucking bet….” Airi rubs at the back of her neck. “…You need some space?”
“That’d be nice. Thank you.”
“Hey, no biggie. And uh. I’m here if you need anything, okay?” She offers out the box. You take it with a tired grin.
“You got it,” she shakes finger guns in your direction, then turns away. Something in her hesitates. Something that wants to take care of those around her, to hold them close and keep them from crying. Something she’s always done for the whole group. “If you ever want to go, let me know, okay? I won’t ask anymore though. Promise.”
“That’s all I ask. Er, I mean, I won’t ask, already said that but—”
“Sleep well, Hun.” The last smile she sends back is sweet, if worried. You can’t imagine how many questions she must have… and how many of them you just can’t answer.
“Now, Darling, listen,” Ferid cups your cheeks, eyes almost soft. His claws gently trace across your cheekbones. “I’m going to be away for a few days, and I can’t take you with me. But I expect you to be good and wait for me.”
“…I’m not a dog,” you murmur, after a moment. He snickers, softly. You’ve finally started getting a bit of your spunk back. Which is fine. He rather likes when you bite back a little. Still, he lightly nibbles your cheek for it.
“Hush.” Ferid snorts as you shiver. “Now, I’m leaving you in the care of some servants with very specific instructions not to bite you and to feed you at proper times. They’ll leave you be otherwise. You’re allowed to walk the manor but not leave it. If you try to leave, they’re allowed to stop you and bring you back. Understand?”
“Yeah, sure.” It’s extremely intimidating to think of other vampires lurking in the halls, though oddly nice that he’s making sure you’re taken care of. Still, you can’t help but feel like you’re a cat being left in a petsitter’s care….
“Good girl.” Frigid lips peck softly against yours. Despite the temperature, you feel… oddly warm at the gesture. He’s gotten more touchy with you. Well, he’s never not been touchy, but…. Your mind refocuses as his hands slip away. “I’ll be back soon.”
Per usual, he walks off with an aristocratic flourish. The door clicks shut and you walk to the window. Perhaps it’s your good behavior, lately, that have earned you a more tender touch. You rub at your cheek as you watch him go... only to see him turn and look right back at you. Immediately, you duck behind the curtains and hide from his loud chuckle as he finally walks out of sight.
Despite knowing there are other vampires here, it feels… colder, without him. A soft sigh puffs out as you rub at your neck, feeling sore from his ‘goodbye’ bites the night prior. They’re neatly wrapped and clean, but still. They do hurt. Ah, what to do…. Reading only entertains you for a few hours. You carefully close the beautiful, first edition copy of Beauty and the Beast; you’re pretty sure the cover has real gold for the woman’s hair and dress. A black velvet beast looms over her with teeth made of pearl. You carefully set it on a marble table and think for a moment.
Perhaps you’ll do your new favorite hobby—wandering the manor. Because good behavior has earned you that right as well. And it feels a bit like strolling through a museum. Centuries’ worth of pure opulence sprawl in labyrinthian halls. There are genuine Renaissance paintings in gold frames. Hand-stitched rugs in dyes only royalty could afford, rich marble fireplaces, embroidered tapestries you’re a bit scared to touch; there’s much to see and you haven’t seen all of it.
So, it’s a bit fun to wander. Anywhere you’re not allowed to go is locked. You find a smaller library with locked bookcases; there are stone tablets in cabinets, rusted swords with diamond-encrusted handles, and a very clear camera in the top right corner. Swallowing, you wave before leaving. There are a few guest rooms you haven’t seen yet. Each one in a different color with a different themed Persian carpet that feels sinfully soft to the touch. But all pretty dusty except for one or two.
Maybe vampires Ferid has a political relationship with? You’re not sure. There are six locked doors on the second floor, and four on the first. Eventually, your wandering brings you to a small kitchen. It’s odd. You’ve only been to the main one outside of the dining room, before. It’s simpler, far less fancy. A servant’s kitchen? What does a vampire need a servant’s kitchen for, if they’re not preparing food for him? The fridge has a couple spoiled apples, some whitened carrots. There’s a jar of candy in the top of an empty pantry. Beyond that, it’s pretty barren.
There’s a rough wooden door tucked beside a cupboard. You almost miss it. You test the rough-iron handle, turn it. It opens with a creak. Dusty stairs lead down to a black-cold cellar. You think it’s for wine until—
You bolt up in bed, barely managing not to scream into the night.
“Did you sleep okay?” Hina slides in next to you in the mostly empty dining room. A lot of squads are out on missions. Others are sleeping in, taking advantage of their time off to catch up on much needed rest. No breakfast yet, just a cup of tea in your hands. She places her cutesy mug next to yours. Hina has always been a morning person, full of vim and vigor from the moment she gets up. But she has her quieter moments; thoughtful and reflective, as she looks back on invisible moments to parse over them.
“Eh, not really….” You admit. Well, you didn’t really sleep at all. More so studied, ate the food Airi brought, and tried not to think about anything other than curses and tactics. You woke up at your desk with a phantom, icy touch on your neck and a horrible longing in your heart. She fiddles with her scarf, exhaling softly; it’s mint green, today, along with the ribbons in her messy morning buns. She takes a long sip from the Hello Kitty Mug she brought back from apocalyptic rubble, and then looks away from you.
“I was a Lamb too, y’know,” Hina stops your heart with a single sentence.
“What?” You choke on your tea, coughing. She pats your back.
“The turtlenecks. And you’re really aware of their teeth.” She fiddles with the pastel fabric. “…Like me.”
“Ah.” That… would do it. Mostly, you wear them because people ask about the bite scars too much. You pull the fabric up a bit higher.
“Yeah, so. I know what it’s like to lose sleep because of… all that. And like. You don’t have to talk about it. But I get it.” Hina continues carefully, as if you’re a startled animal she’s found in a trap. It gives you a moment to come down from the shock, to take another sip of tea. Maybe she does get it. More than Riko, anyway, who’s never felt fangs on her neck. Still, if you think about it, your experience was probably not the same as Hina’s.
Yours was… silk sheets and thick cotton blankets, luxurious baths and good food, and… a vampire who bit every inch of your skin. A vampire that said he loved you as he carved his name in your flesh; a lover and a monster, all in one. But there’s a clear privilege in such a position…. And you know Hina wasn’t someone’s pet. Livestock. Your brain whispers the word with his voice, the constant threat of being left there. He never did it. But you can’t unsee the skeletons of those with that label under his care.
Your whole body shivers. Hina reaches out and immediately holds your hand. “I take a sleep medication, if you wanna try it? I’m sure you could ask somebody.”
“I… I might do that, thanks.”
And the shared scars between you pulse against the fabric covering them. The shared knowledge of the experience of vampires. Fear, power dynamics, overwhelming strength. Lightly, you lean your head onto Hina’s shoulder. She bumps her head against yours and you both just… try to drink tea. And you both try not to think back to the days in livestock pens, when kids piled together for warmth. A packbond formed by a shared suffering.
Come to think of it, you did change after that first time he left. All of a sudden, you go from being comfortable with his touch to shying away again. Ferid’s royal purple claw taps languidly against his chin. René steers the van along the ragged road, Lacus in shotgun and he and a certain little angel in the back. They don’t need to draw attention to an already sensitive location. The easiest way to steal livestock is when they’re being transported. Hence, why a noble is a good idea for defending it, but… it’s simple work. His eyes passively skim the apocalypse’s wrecked cityscape. He can see Mikaela’s big blue eyes watching him in the reflection on the glass. They’re hard little chips of ice, sharply displeased. All too easy to read.
Ferid immediately turns to grin at him, showing a bit too much teeth. “You know, Mika~ If you have something to say, you should just say it.”
“You’re thinking about her again.” The blonde bluntly cuts to the core of the issue. Insightful little shit. His eyes cut to the boy’s, his gaze a ruby knife held to his throat—a quiet warning. “You asked.”
“So you think you know my mind, is that it?” How he picks up on his subtle tells is an utter mystery to Ferid. But perhaps Mika’s hatred keeps him hypervigilant of him. Or perhaps instinct plays some part.
“I’m not going to answer if you’re just going to get pissed off,” he huffs right back at him.
“Alright, alright….” He holds up his hands in surrender, leaning back in his seat to watch the ragged skyline blur by. “I invite you to speak your mind without risking my ire.”
“…Well.” Mika still hesitates slightly, gathering his thoughts. His cold expression doesn’t change much, but he seems to choose his words more carefully. “You’ve had a… far-off look for a bit, now. Given how close it is to the day she disappeared, I figured you were thinking of her.”
“Hm. And?” Ferid’s eyes slide back to the boy. And sure enough, his sky-blue saucers are boring right through him again.
“Do you want a human perspective on it?” Mika tries to play it off like he wasn’t just staring into his soul.
“Go ahead,” he sighs. “I suppose you were human for far longer than you were a vampire. You’re an absolute child compared to me.”
“Always with the little digs…. Who’s the child, here?”
“Get to the point, Dear Mika.”
“Fine. She was wandering around the manor a bunch before you even left.” He shelves his chin on his palm, fully looking out the window, now. It’s cute how the threat of his wrath still makes the boy nervous. Really, politically, there’s no reason for him to go after him; not yet, anyway. Mika still has so much to learn. “And, when you came back, she was afraid of you specifically.” The remains of a particularly pink building catch his attention for a moment. It lessens the blow as the boy finally mutters, “I think she saw the basement.”
“…Ah.” The realization of why you left hits him like a truck. Right. The place he’d left a few used-up lambs on occasion, awaiting proper disposal. Though… thinking back, he’s not sure he had any lambs since keeping you to himself. So those bodies were probably there for a while…. No wonder you were terrified. His nail starts to tap against the glass. That door was meant to be locked. Someone got sloppy. Someone he entrusted with you. He pinches his brow and exhales. “Lacus?”
“Y-Yes, Lord Ferid?” A neat purple ponytail sways out of view.
“Did you remember to lock the door of the servant’s kitchen~?”
“I-I could swear to you I thought I did—”
“I hope you know that I’m going to have you be my errand boy for the next few centuries.”
“You made me lose my favorite livestock and you will not pay that debt for at least four hundred years.”
“Shut up. I don’t want to so much as hear your voice for the next hour,” he snarls a bit. Mika says nothing, but he can feel the judgement radiating off the teen. ‘Livestock.’ That’s not what you are… were. He feels his heart hollow out as that slight burst of euphoric sadism putters out. Ah well.
“Apparently, it’s a temporary base with just a few dozen kids.” Miyu perches her hand on her hip as she looks over the report. Far too ready to get back into combat, she’s slung her spear over her back. And it’s still one day out…. Her blonde hair perches in a military-severe bun. “So we’re hitting it hard and fast before they can move them somewhere else.”
“C’mon, we still have one day left….” Hina pokes at your leader with a French fry. Miyu steals it and eats it. “Hey!”
“Spoils of war.” Green eyes level like shards of sea bottle glass.
“Ease up a bit, girl, you just got off the hospital bed.” Airi rolls her eyes.
“Well, if you want to be unprepared to go into a creepy shrine with vampires….”
“Wait, nooo, they took over Mitsuzoin?” Riko looks up from her book. Her half-eaten breakfast sits beside her studies. “I used to go there on New Years.”
“Yeah, Grandpa proposed to Grandma there or got married or something.” Her shoulders bounce in a shrug.
Miyu continues as she reads, “Apparently it’s a waystop for transporting things between their bases. I guess somebody needs more humans to feed on….”
“Let’s… not be blunt about that.” Airi glances at Hina, pink scarf, ribbons, and all, then coughs into her hand. “How about we go over all that at lunch and relax for the morning?”
“Sure, sorry…. I’ve been so bored and just looking at these for days.” Miyu sighs, shoving the paperwork to the side to dig into her comically high stack of pancakes. Though, it’s hard to see the bread beneath the whipped cream.
“Ouch, your cousin was pretty strict on the bed rest, huh?”
“Well, your version of rest was looking at our next mission file….” Riko murmurs.
“Maybe he has a reason to be concerned,” you chime in. A heavy yawn drifts out of your mouth.
“…Maybe you should worry about taking a nap.” Miyu’s heavy gaze levels on you. “Rest is important. Even if it’s boring.”
“Yeah… good idea,” you try to agree, even though you’re not sure you’ll be able to agree. It’s hard not to get anxious going on a mission. One with a creepy shrine with vampires in it. Ugh, you probably should look over the file….
It must’ve been a lovely shrine, once. Nothing so elaborate as the churches back in his birth country, but something simple and lovely. Without a gardener’s touch, the greenery goes wild. An old cherry tree half blooms on one side, half rots on the other. Most of the buildings have crumbled away to remains of blue-green roofs and rotting wood, but the main one still stands. It works for their purposes: a cache for hiding away Lambs. Ferid strolls through the once sacred halls, down the staircase they’d carved at the back of it. In stone, vampire-made caves, white-clad livestock bundle up in little huddles, little groups of relationships he can’t possibly name. Passively, he scans their pen and moves to the next.
Carefully, you step over piles of bricks and the wild tangles of untended plants. Nature reclaims the ruins. It looks undisturbed… but, with vampires, that doesn’t mean a damn thing. The sun stands high, casting long shadows over the broken statues and lanterns. Miyu takes point and Riko flanks her other side. Airi stalks beside Hina, shield raised on the opposite end of the other girl’s bow. You move as a pack. Three she-wolves with triplet spears at the front, and two guarding the rear. There’s safety in a squad, but the tension of being at the head of battle always makes your hairs raise.
“There should be three vampires,” Miyu relays. She clutches the black-green pole, point facing the earth in a ready-to-strike pose. “Be ready.”
You lead the slow stalk into the shrine. Piles of stone dot around the entrance, as if hurriedly deposited after mining out some large area. The paper doors rattle softly in the breeze. Riko snorts. “They made a rat hole.”
“Guess so.” You stand at the top of the rough-carved stairs and can’t help but think it looks like the yawning throat of some ancient beast.
“Lord Ferid, we have intruders.” A dark-haired vampire, one he hasn’t bothered to learn the name of and wouldn’t remember anyway, bows low to him.
“I am aware.” He glances up. Five heartbeats thud in trepidation. He can smell sweat on the wind… and something sweet he can’t quite name. His lips curl into a feral grin. At least this job won’t be too boring. Hopefully, they’ll at least be decently strong. “Lacus, René. Do take the Lambs out the back way, won’t you?” With a snap, he sends the young vampires scrambling. Or, at least, Lacus scrambles; René sighs and trudges after him. He turns to the nameless, platinum blonde vampires and their brunette leader. “You three are with me. Mika, you’ll guard the exit.”
“…Understood.” Blue eyes bore into his own for a moment, before glancing off again. Wondering why he’s being relegated to such easy work, probably. Well, consider it his small revenge for his mistress giving him such a lowly job.
“Excellent.” Ferid claps. “Shall we get to work, then?”
The stone corridor extends further than you all thought it would. Dull lights flicker on pinned-up wires. The path twists, has a few off-shoot rooms with straw piles and a storage filled with those plastic packs of gross nutrients they use for their ‘livestock.’ You notice Hina shudder at the sight of it, and Airi standing a bit closer to her. It must have been a transfer point for a good long while, and a subtle one. So far as you know, the Demon Army only recently became aware of this place. Must and mildew flood your nostrils. The quietest sound makes your whole body freeze. You block Riko and Miyu off with your spear point.
There’s a blind corner ahead, another twist in this underground labyrinth. Some sixth sense tells you something’s there. An animal sense that a predator lies in wait—they know you’re here. That’s to be expected. Riko glances at you. You nod quietly. Miyu takes a small breath and takes point. “Yamata no Orochi, demand your sacrifice.”
Eight yellow snakes burst from her weapon, blasting around the corner.
Ferid can’t help but snicker when a brilliant yellow serpent snaps down on the head of one of the blonde vampires. He screams so briefly. His legs go limp. His body dissolves to ash. The other two manage to dodge six strikes, while he parries away the seventh. Silence spirals as he holds up his hand, then flicks it back. The remaining blonde ducks into one of the old lamb pens; the brunette crouches behind a box. Meanwhile, he perches a hand on his sword hilt and waits patiently. Five heartbeats thunder wildly, as if trying to escape the cage of their ribs. That sweet smell lingers in the dead air, so close now…. Perhaps one of the little soldiers will be a lovely snack for his way home. His claws curl at his lips, smirk coiling into something sharply sadistic.
Miyu holds up one finger, then puts it down. Then she holds up a finger on her other hand and taps it against her palm. A chill runs down your spine. Yamata no Orochi is only a step down from the Black Demon series. If something can block him, then whatever is around the corner is no joke. Fuck, if there’s a Noble here then you may have to retreat. If you can. You share a glance with Airi and Hina, debating whether you should switch positions and try to flee.
“Are you going to keep me waiting much longer?” A bored voice echoes. And. You know that rich tone, the one that haunts your desires and screams from the rotting faces of dead children. Your whole body freezes. “I must say, if this is your best effort then I am not impressed.”
You can’t run. He won’t let you. And who knows what he’ll do to your friends. Actually, you know what he’ll do. Anger rises like a horrible, venomous thing. It mixes with the panic, flooding your veins with thorns and fire. You grit your teeth and grab Miyu’s shoulder. She looks to you in alarm but lets you pull her back. Riko, in confusion, steps closer to your flank. ‘What?’ She mouths.
‘It’s him,’ you mouth back, before taking point. At the center of your triplet spear, you’re both at the forefront of combat and in the most danger. You can’t make anyone else take that spot when you know what’s coming. There’s a dramatic sigh. A vampire doesn’t make sound unless they want to. Footsteps begin to echo, slow and steady and full of a predator’s purposeful sound—building dread with every pace.
How like a human to put off the inevitable. It’s boring, but predictable. Ah well. He stalks forward. There’s some shuffling; cornered rats getting into a pointless formation. Ferid licks his lips and draws his sword—
As he rounds the corner… for the first time in two years… his monochrome world erupts into color. Breath punches into him. Green, a relentless set of strikes. He parries, hops back a step. Black, a pole waving up and down to try and find an opening to pierce his heart. Ferid twists and dodges. The color of your hair, your eyes, the blushing fury on your cheeks. Everything else fades away. Nothing compares to seeing you alive and angry.
“My Lady Lambs, what a lovely gift you’ve brought me~” Ferid coos, sparks flying as he clashes with you. It’s a mosaic of a dance. His red sword, your green-black spear, clashing so sweetly. You step closer, he steps back. You stab, he bats it away. Of course there are… unfortunate interruptions. Another two spears trying to cut in, trying to take advantage of the openings you’re making in your relentless assault. It’s ruining the mood.
“This is the fucking guy?!” The brown lamb snarls, looking shockingly vicious for such a sweet face. She nocks an arrow. “We can take him, Kiyo Hime!”
It flies over his head into the ceiling; from the arrow, a flaming bell crashes down. Too slow. But oh how you try to cut him down, nearly risking being entombed in burning iron. His teeth beam in a sparking smile. “No, Little Lamb, you cannot.”
He kicks the bell right back at the girl. CLANG! The red sheep meets it with her shield. She goes flying. Bones crack against the wall, but she gets back up and tosses back a pill. “Mezuki!” The hellish tattoo nearly consumes the right side of her face, looking like a Rorschach of a screaming horse. She charges forward and bashes the bell back. He neatly tucks to the side as it soars past him. The ceiling shakes. Delight buzzes in his veins.
But the shame of your little ‘herd’ keeping you away from him is nowhere near the sin as when his fellow vampire tries to interrupt. And stab you in the back? How fucking dare he.
Mine. The back of his mind snarls. With violet precision, he backhands the hooded man away. CRASH! The force makes dust rain down from the carved-out concrete. Cheap lightbulbs shudder. All the while, you’re still trying to kill him. He wipes his hand on his jacket as he smacks away your little… black sheep’s weapon with the other. Then, the blonde vampire tries to ‘help’ and Ferid tears one of the offender’s arms off. You’re close enough to touch, but the cold blood sprays across your blonde sheep. With brutal efficiency, he kicks the violently amputated limb back to the interloper.
So many problematic blondes, today.
“Go to the entrance and don’t let anyone leave.” He whispers in a tone so quiet, it remains inaudible to humans. But he knows you see him speak, because your heartbeat skyrockets. The blonde vampire scrambles off towards the other exit. The brunette… ah, he’s used too much force; he’s dissolving into dust. Ah well. He turns back to the star of the show. And oh the delightful surprise that sparks across your face is beautiful. You’re still so beautiful. Every question written in the portrait of your expression—why save you, why protect you, what did he just say?
“Now, where were we~?” The monster smiles like a prince, despite the pure, animalistic violence he just committed. An ally’s blood coats his handsome cheek. He’s ready to continue this fun little party—then, instinct surges. The Herd has put distance between their group and him. He sees a silent conversation between the auburn sheep and the blonde sheep.
“Yamata no Orochi!” One Lamb blasts out a burst of yellow snakes to try and force him back further. He parries the first, second, third. Twists away from the fourth and steps on the fifth. Sixth, seventh, and eighth get stabbed through in one, elegant pierce; then he cuts back through the jaw. The vampire dances up the demon snake up towards them.
“Kidōmaru!” The black sheep tries to break a hole in the ceiling with a targeted, red-black blaze. Trying to block him off and flee? Oh, how tragically ignorant. But no human’s reflexes can match his without the drugs they force down their throats.
And you haven’t taken one yet.
“If you honestly think I’m going to let you take her—” Ferid blurs into vision, then yanks your wrist back. In one, smooth motion, he drags you to the other side of the falling rubble. It takes only a second to cut you off from your little friends. A satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It melts into a purr as you immediately strike at him.
“Otakemaru!” You screech. A demon’s burning-black brand blooms across your cheek. He lets you jump back. A twirling aim tries to find an opening. His red sword strikes too quickly. Catching a stab, deflecting down the haft. With a wild smile, he surges forward. You block the playful, crimson swish of his blade with the middle of the spear. A bad idea. He’s much stronger, bearing down on your block to get ever closer. It’s like a bobcat fighting off a tolerant tiger, two equally ferocious combatants but one with a distinct power advantage. It’s so cute, he can barely stand it.
You try and step to the side. He won’t let you. Perhaps you chose a spear as a way to keep vampires at a distance; a decent counter to the common swords. This close, though, it’s just a pointy stick with an end that can’t reach him. He grabs just below the head of it and jerks it out of your hands. He tosses his sword aside with it. Ferid just can’t wait to get his hands on you again. So, he grabs your wrists and holds you aloft. In the flickering light, your desperate eyes look like gems sparkling in an ancient mine; something finally uncovered after being hidden for so long.
“L-Let….” You can barely breathe in the wet gasp of pure panic. Like a desperate rabbit dangling by its ears in a hunter’s grasp, you kick and struggle against him. It does nothing against his marble grip. “Let me fucking go!!”
“…Now, now…. That was fun while it lasted, but that’s quite enough.” He pins you to the cavern wall, eyeing your covered neck. You hid his marks? How shy of you. Then again, a neck like yours isn’t exactly common in the Demon Army. That circle scar from their harvesting machines is, but not a host of loving bite marks. He feels the world slow down as he inhales that sweet scent. Ah, how could he not recognize it after two years? Like plum blossoms. Bliss—except for your incessant wriggling. Ferid sighs as he tries to let you just tire yourself out.
But you just won’t stop trying to get away.
“Darling, you know you cannot—” He starts in a smooth, coaxing tone. But it doesn’t lure you into tranquility.
“BUT YOU’LL KILL THEM!” You scream, tears streaming down your face.
“…You knew that when you joined them on the battlefield, did you not?” He tries, slowly. His voice shifts from luringly soft to a bit of a coo. The tone he uses to try and calm children. It doesn’t ease you, either. You seem genuinely attached. Bonds are… so important to humans. Ruby eyes bore into your tear-blurred ones. He feels the hairs rise on the back of his neck and a pit form in his stomach.
“PLEASE, PLEASE NO—” You sound… so desperate. So scared. And you’re kicking twice as hard. That sour-gut guilt rises like bile. The light flickers across Ferid’s face. It’s like the carved-out basement shudders under his shift in mood. A flash of yellow, then shadow, and for a moment his glowing red eyes are all too vivid. They’re like pinpricks of hellfire reflected in your gaze. He lets out a long exhale, then noses into your neck. Your whole body freezes up. His pinning hands turn to cradling ones. The way you’re tensed up like he’s going to gore you makes his dead heart itch. He’d rather claw it out and offer it to you on a plate than hurt you right now. You’re just too afraid, like some terrified animal ready to shake apart at the seams.
Ferid… finds himself desperately not wanting that. He brings you a bit closer, clinging to you as gently as a beast can. He falls to a soft hush, pain tinging every word. “I’m… I’m not going to hurt you, Darling. I promise. Just. Come back with me and I’ll let them go. I swear.” Your kicks slow. Your adrenaline bleeding out as your body crashes in crisis mode. His shoulders relax a bit. Good. He can still sweet talk you. “It’s alright….”
“…Promise?” In that moment, he swears you look like a beaten pup. A creature so pitiful and cute that it feels like a crime to have caused its suffering.
Immediately, he nods. “I swear on my good name as Ferid Bathory, the Seventh Progenitor, I will not kill them.”
“…Swear on something else.” You dangle uncomfortably in his grasp. Does his title mean nothing to you? It should. Just. Only to you. A pout buries itself in your shoulder. Your whole body tenses like you’re expecting him to bite you now of all times.
“I swear on your life that no one in my company today will kill them. No other forces are here.” He murmurs. Bloodstained claws bind your fragile body to his. But he speaks so gently as he says, “Just come back.”
“…Fine.” You still sound so reluctant, still so logical in the face of his silver tongue. And he wants so badly for you to want to come back. To know he’s been so hollow since you’ve been gone. But he has to coax you. He knows that. What’s important is that he has you back.
Why are you doing this? You got away. You’ve been away for two whole years. And a few days. The anniversary of the Demon Army’s raid on his city was a few days ago. Everything feels distant and you can’t help but feel like a ghost following after him. You’re a foot from your body. Doubt swirls. He’s not going to keep his word. He’s going to hurt you.
“Lacus!” He calls ahead. “Go tell that other one to spare the little lambs. Just leave them after you render them unconscious.”
“What about Four Horsemen—?” You start.
“Leave them in the building.” Ferid corrects with a dramatic sigh, dragging you in the same direction that he shouts. Dread makes your feet drag slightly. He notices. Because of course he does.
Ferid stops for a moment, staring at you. Perfect silver hair falls in an ethereal curtain on a porcelain face. Terrifyingly, utterly blank for a moment, before his eyes soften. He lightly pulls you closer. Your hand lands over his dead heart as you stumble into his chest. “Should I knock you out too, Dear?”
“Please?” The shame is killing you. You can feel your heart shriveling up inside. Somehow, you think he knows that too. Or perhaps he just wants you to cooperate. Something pricks against your wrist. You blink.
And everything goes black.
“You know… I’ve kept this on me since you first ran away. Isn’t that funny, Dearest?” Ferid mumbles, as he shakes the syringe from his sleeve. It shatters on the ground. “I just kept it on me… Even after I thought you were dead.” He takes a shaky breath, sinking to the ground with you in his arms. “…Why can’t you see you’re the one person I can’t be a monster for?”
He keeps you against his chest, reveling in the miracle of your heartbeat, until the air shifts.
“It’s done,” Mika states, hovering near the end of the hall. Even as audacious as the boy can be, he doesn’t dare get closer. Those judging blue eyes pierce through you, to Ferid’s schooled expression. But whatever he sees, he doesn’t seem as troubled by it. A white cloak billows on a pivot back to the exit. Ferid rises, holding you like you should be held—a princess in the arms of her prince.
Consciousness rises like a dead body from the bottom of a lake. Slow, sluggish, floating on little waves of realization. One, you’re in far too nice of a bed. Two, you know the color of the silk sheets and the rich pattern on the blanket. Three, there’s a hand running through your hair. Swirling soft patterns, almost luring you back to sleep; claws that feel all too sweet on your skull. It’s all it takes for you to try and sit up, but… Ferid lightly pushes your head down with a finger.
“Easy, Darling. You’re still quite disoriented….” His face swings into view. The room feels like it’s rocking back and forth, as if the bed is drifting in the sea. And he’s the siren leading you deeper into it—so perfectly pretty, deadly in his ethereal beauty. Every part of him can kill you, but you still can’t help but follow his song. Your eyes flutter in the dizzying current. It fits the tempest of emotions roiling in your waking mind.
“…Why…?” A million different questions rise behind that word. Why are you alive? Why didn’t he put you in a dungeon? Why are you back in the manor you’re sure you left to burn? Why, why, why— is he being so freakishly sweet to you? His hand drifts down to cup your cheek. His thumb traces under your eye like you’re some beautifully fragile piece of priceless art. The corner of his lip twitches as you flinch a little.
“Because I missed you.” It sounds so simple, but you both know it’s not.
“You are never going in the basement, Dear.” Ferid insists, pushing himself up to fully loom over you. You swallow as you feel the familiar, cold pressure of his weight settling over you. His hands gently cage your head in… and the world becomes a silver curtain leading to Ferid’s ruby eyes. “I never would have taken you down there. Ever.”
“…You still did it,” you mutter, weakly. Your body knows his touch too well. It feels relaxing and heating and achingly familiar. But you’re still too scared to fully relax. His lips press against your jaw, and your feet instantly squirm. Still too heavy with sedated sleep to move properly. But Ferid leans back, shelving a chin on his palm.
“How am I any different from them?”
“…I had been wondering that myself.” He sighs, gently caressing your hair out of your face. “For one, you are most certainly not a child. Their despair is entertaining and their blood is sweet… but I desire more than that from you. I want all of you, everything, and… I find myself wanting… a companion?”
There’s a quiet confusion on his face. It seems that a creature numb so numb to emotion that only the worst deeds can make him feel anything barely knows how to put his desire to words. The loneliness in his eyes spans centuries. “I don’t desire their bodies, their touch nor their attention. I do feel all of those things for you. Therefore… it is different. You are something far more precious. An adult. A woman. My woman.”
How… often has he been thinking of you? The mere idea sends a shiver down your spine, as his knuckles sweetly drag against your cheek. His eyes never leave yours, drinking in every expression. “Don’t you know how rare it is for one such as myself to feel anything at all?”
Sometimes, he’s so insightful that you wonder if he can read your mind. Lightly, you swallow. “…You’ve hurt me before.”
The tiniest tip of his nose wrinkles slightly. Ferid tilts his head to the side like a displeased cat. “…I am a vampire. It comes with the territory, on occasion. However….” He curls a lock of your hair around his finger, lightly twirling. “I understand I broke your trust.”
“…I can’t ask you to not hurt anyone, can I?”
“I’m afraid my lovely Queen Krul would be annoyed with me if I backed out of her war.”
“…Did you let Riko and everybody live?”
“…Of course they have names….” He mumbles, dropping back against you like a sack of potatoes. His eyes fall to an annoyed cat’s lid. “…I could theoretically promise to spare them, if I personally get the opportunity to kill them in the future.”
“In exchange for?” Tiredly, haltingly, you reach out to cup his face. It still makes his eyes flutter, melting like butter to rest against your chest. The tiniest purr vibrates against your waist as he holds you.
“…I missed you. Your conversation, your blood, your body…. I want it all again.” His voice aches against your ribs. “I want to reclaim what’s mine.”
The phrase should terrify you. But, instead, this guilty want boils up. Something that’s been stewing for two years; and absence makes addiction grow fonder. Despite the death he’s caused and the evil he’s wrought, there’s something so addictive about his dark devotion. Maybe… indulging him is the lesser of two evils. “…No more kids in the basement.” Tentatively, you run your fingers through his hair. “And no killing Hina, Riko, Airi, or Miyu—”
“Alright.” Lithely, he slides up to loom over you again. He leans into your palm, then holds a kiss against your tender pulse. “I will recall their faces but do understand that I truly do not care for their names.” He hums gently against your cheek, before leaning up to nibble against your ear. “Now… Let me show you how much I missed you, hm?”
A slight squeak of, “N-Now?” barely slips out of your lips.
“Why not seal the deal now?” A warm tongue darts out to taste the lobe, then he kisses your jaw. Tracing a path down to carefully nip your chin and encourage your neck back against the pillow.
“I-I—” Your fingers jump to cling to him. His whole body freezes… then melts. A sharp nose delicately traces your throat.
“…Are you afraid?” There’s this… quiet break in his voice. His face presses into your throat. His next words muffle, “If your pain was what I wanted, Dearest, I would have had plenty of opportunity.”
“I know….” Tentatively, you weave your fingers into his hair. You’re more worried about the later, when his mood inevitably changes and he wants to be sharper with you. The guillotine’s blade of punishment raining down. He’s not… human. His impulses, desires, and thoughts are scheming, biting things. But he looks so oddly sad. That porcelain face hasn’t changed much, but… his eyes look heavier. His fine China lips sit like faded Rococo roses under his lightly flushed cheeks.
Ferid can’t seem to look away from your right palm, as if clinging to the hope that your touch means you’re not denying him.
If there’s any expression that fits him now, it’s longing. Pining. A monster that desperately wants… something from you. If he’s been one hundred percent honest, and the odds of that are low with him, then he craves intimacy. Your thumb drags over his cheek. He turns his head and kisses your palm again, light and hesitant. It… sparks something in you. Some want you’ve buried deep in the back of your mind. “…It’s been a while.”
The one good thing about Ferid’s hyper-observance is that he reads between the lines so easily. It’s hard to admit it. Doesn’t seem like he’s going to make you admit it either. His head bows down to swiftly, sweetly steal your lips. Soft and cold, his tongue steals past your cupid’s bow to dance with yours. The ice in his touch keeps you from fully melting. The prick of his fangs, too.
Easily, oh so easily, he can kill you. Decapitate you in a single swing, rip off your head and guzzle the blood from your skull. But… he’s being so devastatingly gentle right now. Even more so than in the past, as a ‘reward.’ Hesitant arousal begins to pool. Shameful memories of his sinful touch. The heat in his gaze, the dark promise of deadly obsession burning in his ruby eyes—fuck. You swallow thickly. Nerves burn like a match tossed on gasoline. Ferid’s hooded gaze looks like smoldering hellfire in the dark. “Oh, Doll, so nervous~? Did you not give yourself to anyone while you were away~?”
There’s a tension in him, quiet and dangerous. But your immediate answer makes him soften, “Wha— No, of course not— I-I mean—”
“Shh. There’s no need to be so frightened. I have you. You’re alright.” An icy-velvet cupid’s bow traces down your tensed cheek. A cold-silk tongue drifts out to taste your pursed lips again. The next kiss is sweeter, longer. It makes you relax a little, again. It. Feels like he made you fold too easily; crumbling after two years of training, killing vampires, the like. Drawing you into the dark, drowning love he offers—a knowing deal with the Devil. You can’t help but clutch him closer, reciprocating more as his siren’s song succeeds. It’s like you want to drag him into you, and every day apart was a distance you have to close now. Fuck, is this really what you craved? He notices; because of course he does. A thick purr vibrates between your chests. But, eventually, you need to breathe. And he sees that too. He pulls back with the smuggest grin. A cool nose nuzzles just under your eye. “Oh, Dear…. Every inch of you aches for me, as I do for you. You want it and yet you’re so tense~”
You avoid his gaze as he pulls back just a little, drinking in your expression. The worst part is that he is a little right. The circumstances he’s using to get you in this position are… kind of awful. Just a promise not to kill the girls who you know would die to protect you. Even knowing that, feeling that it’s wrong, you still can’t help craving this monster that kills without mercy. Yet that… coo in his words, promising eternities of pleasure and pain wrapped into one, makes you crumble all too easily. The Devil himself can’t compare to the sinful temptation of Ferid’s tone. He tugs the neck of your turtleneck down. “Relax. Enjoy your welcome home….”
Sharp fangs slip easily into your scarred throat.
“A-Ah..” The shortest moan slips out of you. His chest rumbles at the sound, crushing you a little closer to his chest as he takes a deep drag of you. Warm blood slips down his throat. Pure euphoria burns through your veins, leaving you helplessly limp in his grasp. It leaves you all too vulnerable to rid you of your clothes. The Imperial Demon Army’s uniform falls to obsidian shreds on the bed, cut away from your body and tossed to the side as if plague rags. But he reaches behind your back with an oddly delicate touch. Ferid unhooks your bra, then plays with the hem of your underwear. He downs another draught of you. Euphoria. Your head falls back, cradled by his palm.
“There she is. My Love.” Bites trail down your neck to your breast. In a haze, you find yourself utterly bared. Some part of you wants to scream at you to do more than pant beneath his touch. Your head still dangles helplessly, drowning in the sea of pure pleasure. It’s taking all you have to keep your awareness above the water.
“How I missed that conflicted face~ The way you can’t help but give in to me. Precious thing~” Ferid huffs softly, before dipping down to bite your breast.
“Nnff—” You try to bite back the whine that bubbles up. Desperately try not to lose your mind again to the lust he’s coaxing from you.
“Hah, so sweet,” his hot breath steams against your nipple, before he swirls his tongue around it. Far more delicately, he just barely skims his teeth over the sensitive pink flesh.
“Fuck—” You jerk and shudder, arching into him. His hands easily catch you and pull you flush against him. His clothed arousal barely brushes against yours.
“Mine….” He mumbles down the slope of your breast, nibbling at the soft skin above your ribs. Down to your hips, taking a meatier bite out of your thigh. Flash of fire, then the worst burst of heat in your gut. Your next moan feels more like a tiny wail. “Shhh, it feels good, doesn’t it?” Ferid caresses your hip.
“It hurts.” You snap back at him. The whiplash of pleasure-pain, drunkenness-sobriety leaves your head spinning. The brutally beautiful fallen angel of a man looms over you a moment, smirking.
“Mm. Apologies, my Love.” His tongue lathes over the mark, soothing the sting. There’s a thought to kick him in the head, but it passes as he takes the time to stop and tend to you. It… oddly makes you quiver with more want. Every logical thought says he must be luring you into a false sense of security, but he really… hasn’t really tried to hurt you, this whole time. Ferid lets out a satisfied sigh when your leg relaxes into his mouth again. Only once you seem to feel aroused at the attention of his tongue does he continue.
“Your skin’s probably sensitive after being away from me too long.” He takes a moment to nibble at your right knee, press a kiss to your shin, then bite delicately at your ankle. Then, strikes like a viper at your left calf. It’s a lighter, more precise pinch, but still a little much. Just on the border of it, really; like when bullies would pinch to make a bruise. A weaker whimper twitches out of your lips, as you barely manage to flinch at the pain. Your fingers claw at the sheets, spine rigid once more. Ferid pauses his path back up to your other thigh. His lips pinch. Instinctively, damp lashes squeeze shut in the face of his displeasure. But he just pets your thigh. “Still hurts too much, then?”
“I-I just said that, asshole….” Your breaths stutter under the sharp pain. Rivulets of blood drip down your calf. Fuck it. He snorts as your leg kicks out of his grasp and your foot thumps him in the head. It doesn’t do any damage, but it gets your point across. He blinks, slowly.
“Hoho…. I like this new spark in you….” Ferid’s lips stretch into this manic, lovestruck grin. In the shadows of the moonlit room, he looks like an obsessed demon. Perhaps, without you, he was close to becoming one. Then, his expression melts into one of pure adoration. “…Perhaps I’ve been away from you too long. I’ll measure my bite better, Love, my apologies.” Once again, he tongues at the bruising flesh. You squirm. “But you’re doing so good for me….”
“Ah—” The praise burns, then your pride. “W-Well. Stop t-testing how hard you can bite me—”
“How will I know what I can and cannot do, then?” A handsome pout distracts you only slightly, as he slides closer and parts your legs. A thumb drags gently over your bud. It. Feels so good. Too good. Your thighs instinctively twitch and your fingers dig into his arms. “I just want to be sure I’m not going to do any lasting damage.”
“Just get on with it,” you mutter. His devious smirk is your only warning before he slips two cold fingers inside of you. It’s a small stretch, before he’s carefully working you open. The soft massaging of your clit quickly wets you.
“Don’t rush me, Love….” Ferid kisses and down your neck as he works you open. His fingers find that soft spot and curl, making you buck a little. It’s so cute. God, you’re so cute. Thank goodness you still really want him. His eyes soften as he carefully slips a third finger into you. How quickly you’ve given in must be a sign.
“You still have your clothes on,” your murmur against his ear is sheer heaven. A little sullen and a little raspy. But he laughs at the realization.
“How quickly I lose myself in our lovemaking.” The flush on your cheeks is all the more worth it to pull his fingers from your warm heat. He wipes his fingers on the sheets. Straddling your hips, he watches your expression carefully as he begins to strip. A rose-red-pink ribbon flashes away, drawing your eye. Dexterous hands unbutton the cloak draped around his shoulders, then cast it to the side like an angel shedding its wings. And all the while, you just stare entranced. Lips parted a little. Too cute. “Like what you see, Dear?”
His deft fingers do away with his long undershirt, giving you more to ogle. He knows he’s pretty. An immaculate physique, silver, luxurious hair, and a royal beauty that comes with his genetics. Seeing you entranced by his little show, even momentarily, makes his attraction only grow. “S-Shut up.”
“Don’t be like that~” Ferid makes quick work of his pants, tossing them into the careless pile beside the bed. He settles against you, finally skin to skin, running his bare palms up your warm sides. Despite the lust hazing your eyes, you still shiver a little. His arousal brushes against yours. All you can answer with is a little moan and an almost sheepish hooking of your heels around his hips.
And who is he to deny his lady? His sharp features bow down to yours as he pushes into you, cold pressure against slick heat. Warmth. Surrounding him, pressure, and the feeling of coming home. His lips seal against yours, hands petting through your hair. Every hot moan is stolen by him. Every rock of his hips brings you closer and closer. Your core tightens around him and he picks up the pace, grabbing your waist and angling against that sweet spot.
Your head falls back against the pillow with a shuddering whine. Ferid works you through the last sparks of pleasure, and then settles against your chest.
His eyes flutter shut with the realization your temperatures have found equilibrium.
He no longer feels so cold.
Phew, I had a lot of fun going back and forth on the POV's. I played a lot with that, so let me know if any part of it was confusing/if you liked it. Oh and the language of flowers for the anniversary bouquet was:
Buttercup: You are radiant with charm.
Pink Camellia: Longing for You
Ask me about the language of flowers I bought for fanfic purposes lmao (ironically not even for this one.) But you can't tell me the aristocrat vampire doesn't know the Victorian secret love language, I refuse.
