[Fic] Hide & Seek - Chp II [Hide-Zou/Tsunehito]
Title: Hide and Seek
Genre: Supernatural Romance
Rating: R to NC-17
Chapter: 02
Wordcount: 4,930
Pairing: Rafaga/Carbuncle (HideZou/Tsunehito)
Warnings: Genderswapped Carbuncle.
Synopsis: Carbuncle and Rafaga want two very different things that just so happen to be each other. In a game of cat and mouse, no one’s quite sure who’s winning.
AN: Continuation of L’amore de Vampire
The forest was thick and much larger, much longer in the shroud of darkness. Moonlight concealed the shapes of the trees, offering only slender skeletons to the unenhanced eye. The ground was uneven and textures changed underfoot, where rock, soil and leaf litter were scattered in different areas - all crossed in the blink of an eye. Carbuncle ran, unknowing his destination, deeper and deeper, drawn to the sense of that much greater than him.
What he chased moved at a slower pace and finally entered his vision. Still far in the distance, a larger-bodied figure ambled through the forest, leaning on trees for momentary support. It was hard to imagine as the once great King, who had fought and won wars, not only against man and monster, but Death itself.
“Your Majesty!” the redhead cried out, feeling all the despair leak into his voice. His heart had never been given the chance to grow up; and broke at the sight of the King as he continued walking.
Carbuncle stopped running when he was close enough, but was cautious to keep a distance. Over weeks, Dreizehn had changed and darkened. His personality had twisted until he was a stranger to those who knew him best. What had always been a resentment of the life he had created for himself turned into a loathing. One he could no longer bear. Carbuncle did not quite understand, and could not quite comprehend his uncle’s thoughts, but he was driven by the maelstrom of blind feelings that possessed him; sought to do what was right by himself.
Another step forwards, treading light on dry leaves, Carbuncle called out again. The king flinched at the sound of another’s fear of loss like he himself had already experienced. Slowly he turned, arms hanging limply at his sides and his visible scarlet eye was hollow, as dead as he felt; as dead as they both were.
Carbuncle parted his lips but words failed him. He stepped closer, unaware of the action until he was only a few metres away from the other. It was the first time in a long time he had not bowed upon acknowledgement from the King, but the latter did not comment on the lack of respect, partly because he didn’t care for such things anymore and partly because he was confronted with little more than the child that used to sit on his lap and be taught how to play chess. The face might have matured, and bone structures sharpened under pale skin, but the eyes were the same. Wide and dark; both revealing and expressionless at the same time.
“Carbuncle, go home,” the King said quietly, but the younger vampire refused to move. “Please, Carbu-”
“Come back to the castle, Uncle,” Carbuncle blinked slowly, demurely imploring. “We need you,”
A tiny wry smile passed the taller’s mouth: this was that young child speaking. But he dismissed it with a lethargic wave of his right hand. “I’ve given you your orders. That is all you require. Make sure Justice is safe,” his voice grew weak at the name of his infant son.
The redhead bowed his head in acceptance of the request and kept his head low for a little longer, trying to bite back the tears that threatened. The feeling of a hand near his head startled him and he snapped his gaze back up to find Dreizehn’s hand lightly tracing the long scarlet braids of his hair. It was shock that stilled him; making it easier to resist leaning into the touch that would reveal a little too much enjoyment.
“You’ve always served me so well. I want you to continue to do so… for my son,”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Content, the King pulled his hand back and his face hardened to stone once more. “Now, return to the castle.”
“Uncle, please-”
“Don’t disobey me now, Carbuncle. Follow me no further. That’s an order,”
Tethered by his own undying loyalty, and love, Carbuncle could do nothing but remain on the spot, watching through helplessly desperate eyes as the King turned back to his path and continued through the forest. His voice carried loudly into the darkness, never losing the tiny shred of hope that Dreizehn would change his mind. Tears felt hot on his cheeks, foreign and strange. A sensation of shivering in the wind overcame him, but much stronger, more like being dragged than blown.
“Carbuncle! Carbuncle!”
Cries persisted and the shaking grew more vigorous. Instead of desolation, he felt groggy and moaned out as he cracked his eyes open. Despite the darkness from the thick curtain that covered the windows, shutting out the sun’s light and shielding them from the fate it threatened, Carbuncle could clearly make out the shape of a face above him. The shaking ceased, but hands remained gripping his bare shoulders. Awake, the all the candles in the room flared up with fresh flames. As the features on that face came into focus, the redhead’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Get out!”
“Carbuncle-” Rafaga started but stopped himself and sighed. His grasp remained, and he didn’t move from his seat upon the mattress.
The small vampire’s frown deepened and he pulled at the covers to conceal his body. There might have been no point in the action, but the gesture was somewhat symbolic, telling the brunette that he was not welcome and not invited to gaze upon naked flesh. “What?”
Rafaga blinked, slowly relinquishing his hold, but trailed his hands down Carbuncle’s slender, but perfectly toned arms. “You were having a bad dream,”
“I’m fine,” he replied stonily, trying to shrug away from the touch. He could only shuffle up the bed to rest is back against the headboard.
“’Buncle, I heard you all the way from my room. I thought-”
“Why?” Carbuncle cried, glaring deep into dark green eyes. “Why is it always you? Why is it only you?!”
“Because I’m the only one who’s seen you cry! I’m the only one who knows,” Rafaga said, a shout on its own accord, but not bitter in any way. Nonetheless, he pushed himself to stand with a frustrated huff and paced to the dark red curtains. The way he remained was like he was gazing out of the window; over the forests and mountains doused in the warm, bright light - something they hadn’t seen in a lifetime. “I was the one you let in, ‘Buncle. Like it or not, you trust me-”
“You were the only one who-” the redhead retorted in a mumble. Crossing his arms, his gaze was trained on the gold thread that adorned his bedspread.
“I was the first one you ran crying to-”
“You’re the first one I ran into.”
“Desperate… I was the first one you flung yourself into the arms of? Several times?” turning back briefly, Rafaga was only met with an irresponsive Carbuncle. “Were you dreaming of that night? You were screaming out for the Kin-”
“Either go or shut up,” Carbuncle hissed, shooting the other a glower out of the corner of his eyes. At the surprised expression he found, he sneered. “Oh yes, you can stay if you want. For as long as you want. I’m going for a walk,”
As he slid from the mattress, taking the sheets with him, wrapped around his slim, naked body, Rafaga peeled away from the window, and intersected him on his way to the door. Long fingers curled around the redhead’s upper arm and pressed him gently against the nearest wall in a feeble attempt to contain him.
Cold stone was warm against Carbuncle’s back, breathing through the sheet, but the body against him offered less heat. “Rafaga, I’m wa-” he was silenced as the wind-controlling vampire’s index finger traced his thin pink lips.
“I missed you. All those years apart, it drove me insane with a want to see you again. The King was cruel to send the four of us to each corner of the world. But I’m so glad Justice’s finally drawn us all together again,” the brunette spoke calmly, quietly; all the while keeping his eyes locked with Carbuncle’s, though they were as blank and unfeeling as the wall behind him. “Finally seeing you again… it reaffirmed why I adore you. That fire nothing else possesses. You’re fierce and yet… so delicate, Carbuncle,”
The redhead blinked slowly, averting his gaze in a show of obvious disinterest.
Nevertheless, Rafaga continued. That one hand ventured to touch the smaller man’s porcelain face, cupping his sharp jawline and tilting it to the right. “If nothing else, just let me protect you-”
“I don’t need protecting,” Carbuncle said flatly.
Sighing, Rafaga gingerly brushed his thumb across the other’s thin, petal-pink lips. “You do. You wake screaming the name of a dead man, crying and wondering why you condemned yourself to immortality. You reason it’s to serve the man who didn’t love you; to complete an order to serve a man who doesn’t love you. And, niggling deep in your mind, you wonder why you still continue living,”
Carbuncle’s lips tightened and he made to speak, but Rafaga pressed his thumb to his mouth, effectively silencing him.
“You need someone to hold you, Carbuncle. To understand you’re not infallible. Just let me love you, Carbuncle. I ask for nothing in return,” he leant closer, daring to brush lips but met only with Carbuncle’s sigh.
He pulled himself free, “you never listen to a word I say. I can’t-”
“How long will it be?” Rafaga said. He stood still as the fire-controlling vampire walked away from him. “How long will it be before these continuing dreams have you crawling into my bed… again?”
“Stop speaking as if it’s such a burden, Rafaga. It’s the only reason you’re here.”
“Carbu-” sighing, Rafaga sagged and shook his head. He paced past the redhead to the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you. I’ll try to not make the same mistake again,”
Carbuncle watched as he left, sneering. He muttered in an acerbic response, “Chance would be a fine thing.”
After the door clicked shut, Carbuncle slowly paced back to his bed. Though he lowered himself to sit on the firm mattress, he never felt the urge to lie down once again. Rafaga’s words bubbled up things that he would rather not remember: a night so long in the past he could not quite remember just when it was, not that his mind would let him do so anyway. The comfort he had sought afterward the King’s departure now seemed like a burden, and had he knew the things it would entail, he would never have gone to the wind-controlling vampire.
Sighing, he stared at the curtains hanging on the wall opposite. Day: he could almost remember what it was like. As a child, Carbuncle was amazed at how such powerful warmth could come from something so far away. He had always had an affinity for fire, and had often tried to reach the sun, from climbing the highest tree in the palace estate to finding the highest room in the highest tower. Of course, he never once succeeded, but he set his sights high. And like in love, he inevitably failed. The dream still lingered, meaninglessly. He would burn now long before he could ever reach the sun; before he could even remove one foot from the ground.
The solitude of an empty room echoed the years the Knights had spent scattered. Carbuncle had not strayed far from his home, instead returning to the neighbouring country of his birth. It was just a pretence, however. He was eager to stand guard over his King’s resting place. Though he knew not where the King’s heart was sealed, being closer than half the world away was security enough.
But it was strange, returning to a land he had left as a young child, to find it very different. Everyone he knew had passed away. There was no way of contacting the other knights; only knowing that when the time came, the royal blood would draw them all together again. He had yearned for that time every moment he spent awake or in slumber. Not only just for company, but because the rise of the Prince meant the return of the King.
With one more sigh, Carbuncle pushed up from the bed, leaving the sheets on the mattress. Instead, he grabbed his dressing gown that was slung over the foot of the bed and shrugged it on. The black fabric was soft against his bare flesh. Dark red velour spread in an intricate damask pattern, winding from a high collar down to his mid thigh. Without any further thought, he exited his room and padded barefoot down the corridor. There was no set destination, as there never was when he could not sleep.
Many of the windows of the castle did not have coverings, as they had been eaten away by moths or disintegrated over the years of vacancy. Sunlight poured in from them, high on the wall. Passage was safe only in the shadows cast when he walked close to the stone. The tables against the opposite wall were adorned with fabulous silk runners and family ornaments that had been cleaned and restored when the castle became home again. Crystal vases were refreshed with new roses. Petals were ignited with colour in the daylight. Reds seemed more vivid, deeper, and whites glowed a pale fineness like a full moon.
As he paused to watch the motionless flowers, the soft clack of boots on the flagstones grew nearer. He noted absently that they were regular and strong: of a confident stride rather than one jumping from one column of shadow to another. Carbuncle turned to the origin of the sound, finding the young Prince turning the corner and starting down the corridor in which he stood.
Justice did a double take but broke into a smile. He was fully dressed, although casually, unabashed as he walked through the white light. “Cousin! Can’t you sleep?”
Bowing his head as a respectful greeting, Carbuncle came up with a smile of his own. “I’m afraid so, Prince,”
That one visible half of his face, and the scarlet eye set amongst pale flesh, softened. “A bad dream?”
“Of sorts,”
“Oh,” Justice came to a halt by the roses, shrouded in the sun. The silver in his hair glistened like silk threads, highlighting the ebony lushness that it streaked. He raised a hand to trace the petals of the roses on the table beside them. So soft, like a lover’s touch, Carbuncle watched in envy. “Anything that I can help-?”
“Do you think I’m weak?”
The Prince turned, frowning in confusion and a measure of shock. “Weak? Carbuncle, are you-?” that one scarlet eye scanned deeply into the redhead’s face, searching for any hint of emotion, or at least a feeling, but only found a mirror on confusion and frustration. They were distant enough to not startle him into thinking that, if only for just a moment, he had seen a glimmer of the gentle creature that was rumoured to dwell inside that body.
“Weak, Justice. Do you think I am?”
Flustered, the other turned to face him completely, gingerly resting back against the table, hands on his hips. He thought for a moment, visibly chewing on his tongue as if trying to order his words as precisely as possible to avoid offence, but changing them at the last minute because they were not deemed the best offers.
“I wouldn’t-well, weak is certainly not the word. Certainly not. You’re a Knight for a reason, Cousin. My father would not have chosen you if you were not capable. You’re fierce… the first time I met you I wondered how I could ever hold a sword against you! And you’re strong - who else could defeat such vampires as you do at dinner parties?!”
As he chuckled light-heartedly, Carbuncle’s heart sank. The approach was almost a cliché, perhaps a reflection of Justice’s youth and lack of true depth of worldly experience. There was not even a flinch on the redhead’s porcelain face when the “..but,” came.
“…but you’re… hmm, delicate?”
Carbuncle sighed and lowered his head in resignation to the same word that had been uttered from Rafaga’s lips.
Quick to see the change in the redhead, Justice lurched forwards, waving his hands around in an attempt to soothe without contact. “It’s not a bad thing, Carbuncle! I can’t imagine you any other way! You just are… like a… rose. Soft and vulnerable, but you have the thorns and hardiness to make sure you can look after yourself,”
A white hand entered Carbuncle’s vision and manually lifted his chin up. A little stunned, his dark eyes flashed up to meet Justice’s only a foot away. The other offered a tentative smile, and the touch remained.
“…would you… change me…” Carbuncle murmured softly, unable to avert his eyes from that one before him but feeling all the self consciousness in the world that made him want to hide. Emotions were as strong as they had been when he was a young child, first meeting the King when he had been brought with his Aunt from his homeland. Something small and insignificant, kneeling before Greatness and being given a smile and a ruffle of his ruby-shaded hair. Justice was so much like his father it almost made Carbuncle sob. Memories of mortality, unobtainable in reality. “…if you could?”
“No?” Justice’s eyebrows furrowed, “No, I wouldn’t want to, my dear cousin,”
His hands moved without instruction, gently resting on Justice’s bare arms, where flesh was warm through exposure to the sun. Carbuncle lent forwards, tilting his head just a little, but the Prince was quick, though stunned, and recoiled.
“Carbuncle,” he held the redhead at an arm’s length. “Don’t,” slowly, he took a hold of the shorted vampire’s wrists and moved them back to their place, but Carbuncle pulled himself away and scurried down the corridor, disappearing into the shadows around the corner.
Thoughts echoed with the tenderness of a raging bull in his mind, the embarrassment of rejection. Not just the rejection, but because of who it was. That one person he cared so much for and the one word that had turned him away. The embarrassment from exposure, succumbing to the words just spoken, no matter how much he tried to make believe he was just as strong as they others. Would they have run after a single word of refutation? Would they have stood, determined, and pressed on? He knew that was the case with at least one.
“Carbuncle?!”
The redhead stared at the man as he leant back from his desk, face confused and weary. There was not one hint of smugness or victory in his expression. Just genuine concern. Pressing back sharply, he shut the door and paced closer. Thinking hurt, so he flung everything to the side, focusing only on the gentle patter of his feet on the bare stone.
Rafaga broke from the shared gaze when the candles on his desk suddenly burned brighter; their flames grew and licked at the air with more vigour. It was something he had seen before and turning back, he found that familiar vacancy in Carbuncle’s eyes. Though his first instinct was far from what might have been expected from him, there was no chance that he could make the slim vampire suffer more and stood.
Carbuncle reached out, curling his fingers around the flimsy collar of the tunic Rafaga wore. “Say anything and I’ll kill you,”
The brunette swallowed, blinked and nodded. There was a strange measure of comfort in how his hands felt as they slid up Carbuncle’s arms, snaking all the way up over the velour to his shoulders. The redhead could lean back; feel safe in a hold he knew would not vanish. An acceptance that was reassuring, and gave him the strength to rebuild the walls he had let crumble for one foolish moment. Gratification was perhaps the word, paired with the desperation that Rafaga had so mentioned before. The latter knew he was being used: he must have after so many times, but still he brought Carbuncle closer with a ginger urgency.
Their lips met in a meeting of passion and affection, hardly something that matched and the contact was messy. Carbuncle’s mouth was already open, instantly flicking his tongue against Rafaga’s lips for them to part. It was, like everything else, surrendered without a second thought. But instead of entry, the redhead darted back, almost playfully. Already an echo of the vampire Rafaga knew, or even if it was just the Red Sheep seizing control for that moment of defencelessness, he didn’t mind; the taller vampire slid his tongue into the other’s mouth.
There was heat and spice, things Rafaga had not tasted since the first night they had met again after being cast to the winds. But if felt like so much longer. Carbuncle’s thick eyelashes fluttered, closing and his fingers curled tighter, pulling harder. The movement of tongues was both familiar but still edgy, much how he would imagine a kiss with Justice. The thought stabbed and he yanked Rafaga closer as he stepped back, but the actions were disjointed and the brunette’s hands slipped from his neck to his waist.
Rafaga kept them moving backwards, only half paying attention to a safe passage. Carbuncle surrendered himself to the other’s instruction, mewling as those cool hands descended even further, finally meeting the bare flesh of his legs before moving up again. But the contact remained, smooth and gentle; just like the Prince’s handling of the roses.
He pulled back from the kiss, moving his hands to Rafaga’s chest. Taking handfuls of the coarse fabric, he pulled it upwards. A glance was spared to watch as it revealed his legs and groin, which slowly coming to life
“Carbuncle-”
“I said don’t talk,” he snapped, taking another step back and wordlessly instructing for him to raise his arms to the tunic could be done away with. “It’s not words I’m interested in,”
Rafaga sighed, rolling his eyes as Carbuncle lurched forwards and, open mouthed, started kissing his neck. As a vampire, the sensation was heightened, even more so from the touch of the fire, just as he imagined it would feel for the air if it were capable of physical feeling. He groaned, eyes closing, making the redhead smirk. Rafaga’s shoulders were broad, offering more chill, pale flesh for exploration. Tasting of a clear night, Carbuncle nibbled and bit without discrimination, hard enough to leave a mark that quickly healed. He did not actively seek to cause pain, foolishly fearing if he did, he would be cast aside.
He paused only when Rafaga’s right hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it gently, affectionately; cautiously at the start. But when there were only sounds of approval, it became stronger as confidence took hold. The left tugged at the sash of the gown; Carbuncle shrugged his shoulders back so the heavy material would simply fall from his svelte frame.
When completely bare, that spare hand replanted itself on his hip and served as a guidance backwards. He complied, meeting with the textured wood of the chamber’s door. He smirked into Rafaga’s eyes for a moment as he leant his head back, baring the swan-like column of his neck. So usually covered with leather chokers and chains, it was a sign of subservience that only Rafaga had even seen to understand. But the brunette did not relish it in conceit, but took the gift appreciatively; gently pressing his lips to the lump of Carbuncle’s adams apple.
Carbuncle groaned, closing his eyes and thrusting into the circle of fingers that surrounded him. They tightened and the pace slowed irregularly, leaving the redhead completely at Rafaga’s will. Although such dominance, people would think, should anger him, Carbuncle craved such treatment - maybe just to be pampered and taken care of, or maybe to give up social expectations of him.
“To stop pretending,” he muttered, biting his lip as Rafaga’s cool mouth travelled down his clavicle and to a nipple. But the sensation was short lived, as the taller pulled back, frowning.
“What did you say?”
Opening his eyes, Carbuncle stared at the little bookcase across the room. “Nothing,”
Rafaga rolled his eyes. Taking a hold of the smaller vampire’s face in his hands, he pulled those dark eyes to look at him, searching to find something that was visible… he just did not know what it was. “…what are you here for?”
Carbuncle barked a laugh; his thin pink lips twisted in a smirk. “You don’t know?” his voice was flighty, but dark. He reached down, taking Rafaga’s half-grown erection into his hand and touched it so fancifully it was more like fiddling than a caress. “It isn’t obvious?”
A sigh-like groan poured from the wind-controlling vampire’s throat. He could not resist the urge to lean into that hand and the thumb that rubbed against the slit in the head of his cock. “’Buncle. I’m tired of games. I’m tired of-”
As Rafaga spoke, Carbuncle lowered himself to his knees. The door scraped down his naked back, leaving splinters that would soon be expelled from his skin and the flagstones were uncomfortably uneven on his legs, but the silence that engulfed the moment was enchanting.
He did not even look up to see the brunette’s face; barely even wondering what expression he would be wearing. Exasperation? Anticipation? The cock in front of him hinted the latter, or at least that was just was it was feeling. Planting his left hand on Rafaga’s hip, Carbuncle opened his mouth and held the cock still with his right as he brushed teasing, butterfly kisses along the length of the shaft.
“’Buncle,” Rafaga groaned again. The redhead smirked as he felt long fingers twine into the side of his hair that was free from braids, pulling him closer and tighter. He could even feel the twitch of the muscles telling of conflicting instruction.
More sounds came as Carbuncle moved to swallow down Rafaga’s cock. He closed his eyes, concentrating on sensation rather than thinking - aside from that of how to please and therefore distract Rafaga. He hollowed his cheeks and playfully flicked his tongue against the tip on the transition of an up and down stroke.
“Ahh, stop hiding behind the Red Sheep,” came another moan, filled to the brim with frustration.
The redhead did not respond other than continue his ministrations. The accusation was a little insulting because of all people, he thought Rafaga would be the one to know the difference between him and the thing he could become. And he was not assuming the qualities of the latter… at least, not intentionally.
“Carbuncle-I-oh my god,” Rafaga gasped and groaned. Using his grip on Carbuncle’s head, he stilled the smaller vampire’s movements to thrust into that open mouth at a pace that suited him. And it did not last long.
The redhead opened his eyes, pulling his head back enough to be able to look at Rafaga’s face. With the latter’s release came a dazed, wide smile that both amused and bemused Carbuncle. He swallowed down the ejaculate without reflection; withdrawing whilst sucking to avoid any mess.
Rafaga’s smile was lost and he urged the other to stand again “’Buncle,” and he only continued when Carbuncle was back at his normal height. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“Because I’m weak,” he replied, rolling his eyes and leaning to press a kiss to Rafaga’s open mouth. “I-”
“Is this because of what I said? God, Carbuncle, I didn’t mean it like that!”
The redhead groaned, sliding out before between the door and the other vampire. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to talk. To talk, you apologise and waste time and I don’t get what I want!”
He sighed as a cold hand tenderly touched his shoulder, waiting for the touch to not be rejected before those fingertips traced the sinews of his muscles.
“What is it that you want?”
Taking that hand, Carbuncle pressed his lips to it momentarily before discarding it like a message that came too late. “It doesn’t matter,” he stooped to pick his dressing gown up from the floor and pulled it back on.
Rafaga’s lips parted, prepared for more words, when Carbuncle turned and brushed past to get to the door. As he laid his hand on the knob to twist it open, the brunette gripped his shoulder again and turned him back, uttering in the sternest voice Carbuncle could ever recall from him, “No.”
“Rafaga-”
“No. Take what you want from me. Use me, ‘Buncle,” though his stare was intense, Carbuncle looked anywhere but at it. He felt Rafaga’s hands frame his chin again; fingertips brushed gentle against high cheekbones. “What you want always matters, to me. Use me to make yourself feel strong again,”
He took a few moments to assess the situation, and trying to ignore all his former comments. They were almost meaningless anyway. Rafaga would have believed in their hollowness the second they were uttered; proven by his persistence. Was there truly any shame in a mutual seizing and sating of desires?
“We’ve done it before, Carbuncle,”
Finally sighing, the redhead sneered. He rested his head back against the door. “Only-only-if you stop talking.”
Genre: Supernatural Romance
Rating: R to NC-17
Chapter: 02
Wordcount: 4,930
Pairing: Rafaga/Carbuncle (HideZou/Tsunehito)
Warnings: Genderswapped Carbuncle.
Synopsis: Carbuncle and Rafaga want two very different things that just so happen to be each other. In a game of cat and mouse, no one’s quite sure who’s winning.
AN: Continuation of L’amore de Vampire
The forest was thick and much larger, much longer in the shroud of darkness. Moonlight concealed the shapes of the trees, offering only slender skeletons to the unenhanced eye. The ground was uneven and textures changed underfoot, where rock, soil and leaf litter were scattered in different areas - all crossed in the blink of an eye. Carbuncle ran, unknowing his destination, deeper and deeper, drawn to the sense of that much greater than him.
What he chased moved at a slower pace and finally entered his vision. Still far in the distance, a larger-bodied figure ambled through the forest, leaning on trees for momentary support. It was hard to imagine as the once great King, who had fought and won wars, not only against man and monster, but Death itself.
“Your Majesty!” the redhead cried out, feeling all the despair leak into his voice. His heart had never been given the chance to grow up; and broke at the sight of the King as he continued walking.
Carbuncle stopped running when he was close enough, but was cautious to keep a distance. Over weeks, Dreizehn had changed and darkened. His personality had twisted until he was a stranger to those who knew him best. What had always been a resentment of the life he had created for himself turned into a loathing. One he could no longer bear. Carbuncle did not quite understand, and could not quite comprehend his uncle’s thoughts, but he was driven by the maelstrom of blind feelings that possessed him; sought to do what was right by himself.
Another step forwards, treading light on dry leaves, Carbuncle called out again. The king flinched at the sound of another’s fear of loss like he himself had already experienced. Slowly he turned, arms hanging limply at his sides and his visible scarlet eye was hollow, as dead as he felt; as dead as they both were.
Carbuncle parted his lips but words failed him. He stepped closer, unaware of the action until he was only a few metres away from the other. It was the first time in a long time he had not bowed upon acknowledgement from the King, but the latter did not comment on the lack of respect, partly because he didn’t care for such things anymore and partly because he was confronted with little more than the child that used to sit on his lap and be taught how to play chess. The face might have matured, and bone structures sharpened under pale skin, but the eyes were the same. Wide and dark; both revealing and expressionless at the same time.
“Carbuncle, go home,” the King said quietly, but the younger vampire refused to move. “Please, Carbu-”
“Come back to the castle, Uncle,” Carbuncle blinked slowly, demurely imploring. “We need you,”
A tiny wry smile passed the taller’s mouth: this was that young child speaking. But he dismissed it with a lethargic wave of his right hand. “I’ve given you your orders. That is all you require. Make sure Justice is safe,” his voice grew weak at the name of his infant son.
The redhead bowed his head in acceptance of the request and kept his head low for a little longer, trying to bite back the tears that threatened. The feeling of a hand near his head startled him and he snapped his gaze back up to find Dreizehn’s hand lightly tracing the long scarlet braids of his hair. It was shock that stilled him; making it easier to resist leaning into the touch that would reveal a little too much enjoyment.
“You’ve always served me so well. I want you to continue to do so… for my son,”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Content, the King pulled his hand back and his face hardened to stone once more. “Now, return to the castle.”
“Uncle, please-”
“Don’t disobey me now, Carbuncle. Follow me no further. That’s an order,”
Tethered by his own undying loyalty, and love, Carbuncle could do nothing but remain on the spot, watching through helplessly desperate eyes as the King turned back to his path and continued through the forest. His voice carried loudly into the darkness, never losing the tiny shred of hope that Dreizehn would change his mind. Tears felt hot on his cheeks, foreign and strange. A sensation of shivering in the wind overcame him, but much stronger, more like being dragged than blown.
“Carbuncle! Carbuncle!”
Cries persisted and the shaking grew more vigorous. Instead of desolation, he felt groggy and moaned out as he cracked his eyes open. Despite the darkness from the thick curtain that covered the windows, shutting out the sun’s light and shielding them from the fate it threatened, Carbuncle could clearly make out the shape of a face above him. The shaking ceased, but hands remained gripping his bare shoulders. Awake, the all the candles in the room flared up with fresh flames. As the features on that face came into focus, the redhead’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Get out!”
“Carbuncle-” Rafaga started but stopped himself and sighed. His grasp remained, and he didn’t move from his seat upon the mattress.
The small vampire’s frown deepened and he pulled at the covers to conceal his body. There might have been no point in the action, but the gesture was somewhat symbolic, telling the brunette that he was not welcome and not invited to gaze upon naked flesh. “What?”
Rafaga blinked, slowly relinquishing his hold, but trailed his hands down Carbuncle’s slender, but perfectly toned arms. “You were having a bad dream,”
“I’m fine,” he replied stonily, trying to shrug away from the touch. He could only shuffle up the bed to rest is back against the headboard.
“’Buncle, I heard you all the way from my room. I thought-”
“Why?” Carbuncle cried, glaring deep into dark green eyes. “Why is it always you? Why is it only you?!”
“Because I’m the only one who’s seen you cry! I’m the only one who knows,” Rafaga said, a shout on its own accord, but not bitter in any way. Nonetheless, he pushed himself to stand with a frustrated huff and paced to the dark red curtains. The way he remained was like he was gazing out of the window; over the forests and mountains doused in the warm, bright light - something they hadn’t seen in a lifetime. “I was the one you let in, ‘Buncle. Like it or not, you trust me-”
“You were the only one who-” the redhead retorted in a mumble. Crossing his arms, his gaze was trained on the gold thread that adorned his bedspread.
“I was the first one you ran crying to-”
“You’re the first one I ran into.”
“Desperate… I was the first one you flung yourself into the arms of? Several times?” turning back briefly, Rafaga was only met with an irresponsive Carbuncle. “Were you dreaming of that night? You were screaming out for the Kin-”
“Either go or shut up,” Carbuncle hissed, shooting the other a glower out of the corner of his eyes. At the surprised expression he found, he sneered. “Oh yes, you can stay if you want. For as long as you want. I’m going for a walk,”
As he slid from the mattress, taking the sheets with him, wrapped around his slim, naked body, Rafaga peeled away from the window, and intersected him on his way to the door. Long fingers curled around the redhead’s upper arm and pressed him gently against the nearest wall in a feeble attempt to contain him.
Cold stone was warm against Carbuncle’s back, breathing through the sheet, but the body against him offered less heat. “Rafaga, I’m wa-” he was silenced as the wind-controlling vampire’s index finger traced his thin pink lips.
“I missed you. All those years apart, it drove me insane with a want to see you again. The King was cruel to send the four of us to each corner of the world. But I’m so glad Justice’s finally drawn us all together again,” the brunette spoke calmly, quietly; all the while keeping his eyes locked with Carbuncle’s, though they were as blank and unfeeling as the wall behind him. “Finally seeing you again… it reaffirmed why I adore you. That fire nothing else possesses. You’re fierce and yet… so delicate, Carbuncle,”
The redhead blinked slowly, averting his gaze in a show of obvious disinterest.
Nevertheless, Rafaga continued. That one hand ventured to touch the smaller man’s porcelain face, cupping his sharp jawline and tilting it to the right. “If nothing else, just let me protect you-”
“I don’t need protecting,” Carbuncle said flatly.
Sighing, Rafaga gingerly brushed his thumb across the other’s thin, petal-pink lips. “You do. You wake screaming the name of a dead man, crying and wondering why you condemned yourself to immortality. You reason it’s to serve the man who didn’t love you; to complete an order to serve a man who doesn’t love you. And, niggling deep in your mind, you wonder why you still continue living,”
Carbuncle’s lips tightened and he made to speak, but Rafaga pressed his thumb to his mouth, effectively silencing him.
“You need someone to hold you, Carbuncle. To understand you’re not infallible. Just let me love you, Carbuncle. I ask for nothing in return,” he leant closer, daring to brush lips but met only with Carbuncle’s sigh.
He pulled himself free, “you never listen to a word I say. I can’t-”
“How long will it be?” Rafaga said. He stood still as the fire-controlling vampire walked away from him. “How long will it be before these continuing dreams have you crawling into my bed… again?”
“Stop speaking as if it’s such a burden, Rafaga. It’s the only reason you’re here.”
“Carbu-” sighing, Rafaga sagged and shook his head. He paced past the redhead to the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you. I’ll try to not make the same mistake again,”
Carbuncle watched as he left, sneering. He muttered in an acerbic response, “Chance would be a fine thing.”
After the door clicked shut, Carbuncle slowly paced back to his bed. Though he lowered himself to sit on the firm mattress, he never felt the urge to lie down once again. Rafaga’s words bubbled up things that he would rather not remember: a night so long in the past he could not quite remember just when it was, not that his mind would let him do so anyway. The comfort he had sought afterward the King’s departure now seemed like a burden, and had he knew the things it would entail, he would never have gone to the wind-controlling vampire.
Sighing, he stared at the curtains hanging on the wall opposite. Day: he could almost remember what it was like. As a child, Carbuncle was amazed at how such powerful warmth could come from something so far away. He had always had an affinity for fire, and had often tried to reach the sun, from climbing the highest tree in the palace estate to finding the highest room in the highest tower. Of course, he never once succeeded, but he set his sights high. And like in love, he inevitably failed. The dream still lingered, meaninglessly. He would burn now long before he could ever reach the sun; before he could even remove one foot from the ground.
The solitude of an empty room echoed the years the Knights had spent scattered. Carbuncle had not strayed far from his home, instead returning to the neighbouring country of his birth. It was just a pretence, however. He was eager to stand guard over his King’s resting place. Though he knew not where the King’s heart was sealed, being closer than half the world away was security enough.
But it was strange, returning to a land he had left as a young child, to find it very different. Everyone he knew had passed away. There was no way of contacting the other knights; only knowing that when the time came, the royal blood would draw them all together again. He had yearned for that time every moment he spent awake or in slumber. Not only just for company, but because the rise of the Prince meant the return of the King.
With one more sigh, Carbuncle pushed up from the bed, leaving the sheets on the mattress. Instead, he grabbed his dressing gown that was slung over the foot of the bed and shrugged it on. The black fabric was soft against his bare flesh. Dark red velour spread in an intricate damask pattern, winding from a high collar down to his mid thigh. Without any further thought, he exited his room and padded barefoot down the corridor. There was no set destination, as there never was when he could not sleep.
Many of the windows of the castle did not have coverings, as they had been eaten away by moths or disintegrated over the years of vacancy. Sunlight poured in from them, high on the wall. Passage was safe only in the shadows cast when he walked close to the stone. The tables against the opposite wall were adorned with fabulous silk runners and family ornaments that had been cleaned and restored when the castle became home again. Crystal vases were refreshed with new roses. Petals were ignited with colour in the daylight. Reds seemed more vivid, deeper, and whites glowed a pale fineness like a full moon.
As he paused to watch the motionless flowers, the soft clack of boots on the flagstones grew nearer. He noted absently that they were regular and strong: of a confident stride rather than one jumping from one column of shadow to another. Carbuncle turned to the origin of the sound, finding the young Prince turning the corner and starting down the corridor in which he stood.
Justice did a double take but broke into a smile. He was fully dressed, although casually, unabashed as he walked through the white light. “Cousin! Can’t you sleep?”
Bowing his head as a respectful greeting, Carbuncle came up with a smile of his own. “I’m afraid so, Prince,”
That one visible half of his face, and the scarlet eye set amongst pale flesh, softened. “A bad dream?”
“Of sorts,”
“Oh,” Justice came to a halt by the roses, shrouded in the sun. The silver in his hair glistened like silk threads, highlighting the ebony lushness that it streaked. He raised a hand to trace the petals of the roses on the table beside them. So soft, like a lover’s touch, Carbuncle watched in envy. “Anything that I can help-?”
“Do you think I’m weak?”
The Prince turned, frowning in confusion and a measure of shock. “Weak? Carbuncle, are you-?” that one scarlet eye scanned deeply into the redhead’s face, searching for any hint of emotion, or at least a feeling, but only found a mirror on confusion and frustration. They were distant enough to not startle him into thinking that, if only for just a moment, he had seen a glimmer of the gentle creature that was rumoured to dwell inside that body.
“Weak, Justice. Do you think I am?”
Flustered, the other turned to face him completely, gingerly resting back against the table, hands on his hips. He thought for a moment, visibly chewing on his tongue as if trying to order his words as precisely as possible to avoid offence, but changing them at the last minute because they were not deemed the best offers.
“I wouldn’t-well, weak is certainly not the word. Certainly not. You’re a Knight for a reason, Cousin. My father would not have chosen you if you were not capable. You’re fierce… the first time I met you I wondered how I could ever hold a sword against you! And you’re strong - who else could defeat such vampires as you do at dinner parties?!”
As he chuckled light-heartedly, Carbuncle’s heart sank. The approach was almost a cliché, perhaps a reflection of Justice’s youth and lack of true depth of worldly experience. There was not even a flinch on the redhead’s porcelain face when the “..but,” came.
“…but you’re… hmm, delicate?”
Carbuncle sighed and lowered his head in resignation to the same word that had been uttered from Rafaga’s lips.
Quick to see the change in the redhead, Justice lurched forwards, waving his hands around in an attempt to soothe without contact. “It’s not a bad thing, Carbuncle! I can’t imagine you any other way! You just are… like a… rose. Soft and vulnerable, but you have the thorns and hardiness to make sure you can look after yourself,”
A white hand entered Carbuncle’s vision and manually lifted his chin up. A little stunned, his dark eyes flashed up to meet Justice’s only a foot away. The other offered a tentative smile, and the touch remained.
“…would you… change me…” Carbuncle murmured softly, unable to avert his eyes from that one before him but feeling all the self consciousness in the world that made him want to hide. Emotions were as strong as they had been when he was a young child, first meeting the King when he had been brought with his Aunt from his homeland. Something small and insignificant, kneeling before Greatness and being given a smile and a ruffle of his ruby-shaded hair. Justice was so much like his father it almost made Carbuncle sob. Memories of mortality, unobtainable in reality. “…if you could?”
“No?” Justice’s eyebrows furrowed, “No, I wouldn’t want to, my dear cousin,”
His hands moved without instruction, gently resting on Justice’s bare arms, where flesh was warm through exposure to the sun. Carbuncle lent forwards, tilting his head just a little, but the Prince was quick, though stunned, and recoiled.
“Carbuncle,” he held the redhead at an arm’s length. “Don’t,” slowly, he took a hold of the shorted vampire’s wrists and moved them back to their place, but Carbuncle pulled himself away and scurried down the corridor, disappearing into the shadows around the corner.
Thoughts echoed with the tenderness of a raging bull in his mind, the embarrassment of rejection. Not just the rejection, but because of who it was. That one person he cared so much for and the one word that had turned him away. The embarrassment from exposure, succumbing to the words just spoken, no matter how much he tried to make believe he was just as strong as they others. Would they have run after a single word of refutation? Would they have stood, determined, and pressed on? He knew that was the case with at least one.
“Carbuncle?!”
The redhead stared at the man as he leant back from his desk, face confused and weary. There was not one hint of smugness or victory in his expression. Just genuine concern. Pressing back sharply, he shut the door and paced closer. Thinking hurt, so he flung everything to the side, focusing only on the gentle patter of his feet on the bare stone.
Rafaga broke from the shared gaze when the candles on his desk suddenly burned brighter; their flames grew and licked at the air with more vigour. It was something he had seen before and turning back, he found that familiar vacancy in Carbuncle’s eyes. Though his first instinct was far from what might have been expected from him, there was no chance that he could make the slim vampire suffer more and stood.
Carbuncle reached out, curling his fingers around the flimsy collar of the tunic Rafaga wore. “Say anything and I’ll kill you,”
The brunette swallowed, blinked and nodded. There was a strange measure of comfort in how his hands felt as they slid up Carbuncle’s arms, snaking all the way up over the velour to his shoulders. The redhead could lean back; feel safe in a hold he knew would not vanish. An acceptance that was reassuring, and gave him the strength to rebuild the walls he had let crumble for one foolish moment. Gratification was perhaps the word, paired with the desperation that Rafaga had so mentioned before. The latter knew he was being used: he must have after so many times, but still he brought Carbuncle closer with a ginger urgency.
Their lips met in a meeting of passion and affection, hardly something that matched and the contact was messy. Carbuncle’s mouth was already open, instantly flicking his tongue against Rafaga’s lips for them to part. It was, like everything else, surrendered without a second thought. But instead of entry, the redhead darted back, almost playfully. Already an echo of the vampire Rafaga knew, or even if it was just the Red Sheep seizing control for that moment of defencelessness, he didn’t mind; the taller vampire slid his tongue into the other’s mouth.
There was heat and spice, things Rafaga had not tasted since the first night they had met again after being cast to the winds. But if felt like so much longer. Carbuncle’s thick eyelashes fluttered, closing and his fingers curled tighter, pulling harder. The movement of tongues was both familiar but still edgy, much how he would imagine a kiss with Justice. The thought stabbed and he yanked Rafaga closer as he stepped back, but the actions were disjointed and the brunette’s hands slipped from his neck to his waist.
Rafaga kept them moving backwards, only half paying attention to a safe passage. Carbuncle surrendered himself to the other’s instruction, mewling as those cool hands descended even further, finally meeting the bare flesh of his legs before moving up again. But the contact remained, smooth and gentle; just like the Prince’s handling of the roses.
He pulled back from the kiss, moving his hands to Rafaga’s chest. Taking handfuls of the coarse fabric, he pulled it upwards. A glance was spared to watch as it revealed his legs and groin, which slowly coming to life
“Carbuncle-”
“I said don’t talk,” he snapped, taking another step back and wordlessly instructing for him to raise his arms to the tunic could be done away with. “It’s not words I’m interested in,”
Rafaga sighed, rolling his eyes as Carbuncle lurched forwards and, open mouthed, started kissing his neck. As a vampire, the sensation was heightened, even more so from the touch of the fire, just as he imagined it would feel for the air if it were capable of physical feeling. He groaned, eyes closing, making the redhead smirk. Rafaga’s shoulders were broad, offering more chill, pale flesh for exploration. Tasting of a clear night, Carbuncle nibbled and bit without discrimination, hard enough to leave a mark that quickly healed. He did not actively seek to cause pain, foolishly fearing if he did, he would be cast aside.
He paused only when Rafaga’s right hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it gently, affectionately; cautiously at the start. But when there were only sounds of approval, it became stronger as confidence took hold. The left tugged at the sash of the gown; Carbuncle shrugged his shoulders back so the heavy material would simply fall from his svelte frame.
When completely bare, that spare hand replanted itself on his hip and served as a guidance backwards. He complied, meeting with the textured wood of the chamber’s door. He smirked into Rafaga’s eyes for a moment as he leant his head back, baring the swan-like column of his neck. So usually covered with leather chokers and chains, it was a sign of subservience that only Rafaga had even seen to understand. But the brunette did not relish it in conceit, but took the gift appreciatively; gently pressing his lips to the lump of Carbuncle’s adams apple.
Carbuncle groaned, closing his eyes and thrusting into the circle of fingers that surrounded him. They tightened and the pace slowed irregularly, leaving the redhead completely at Rafaga’s will. Although such dominance, people would think, should anger him, Carbuncle craved such treatment - maybe just to be pampered and taken care of, or maybe to give up social expectations of him.
“To stop pretending,” he muttered, biting his lip as Rafaga’s cool mouth travelled down his clavicle and to a nipple. But the sensation was short lived, as the taller pulled back, frowning.
“What did you say?”
Opening his eyes, Carbuncle stared at the little bookcase across the room. “Nothing,”
Rafaga rolled his eyes. Taking a hold of the smaller vampire’s face in his hands, he pulled those dark eyes to look at him, searching to find something that was visible… he just did not know what it was. “…what are you here for?”
Carbuncle barked a laugh; his thin pink lips twisted in a smirk. “You don’t know?” his voice was flighty, but dark. He reached down, taking Rafaga’s half-grown erection into his hand and touched it so fancifully it was more like fiddling than a caress. “It isn’t obvious?”
A sigh-like groan poured from the wind-controlling vampire’s throat. He could not resist the urge to lean into that hand and the thumb that rubbed against the slit in the head of his cock. “’Buncle. I’m tired of games. I’m tired of-”
As Rafaga spoke, Carbuncle lowered himself to his knees. The door scraped down his naked back, leaving splinters that would soon be expelled from his skin and the flagstones were uncomfortably uneven on his legs, but the silence that engulfed the moment was enchanting.
He did not even look up to see the brunette’s face; barely even wondering what expression he would be wearing. Exasperation? Anticipation? The cock in front of him hinted the latter, or at least that was just was it was feeling. Planting his left hand on Rafaga’s hip, Carbuncle opened his mouth and held the cock still with his right as he brushed teasing, butterfly kisses along the length of the shaft.
“’Buncle,” Rafaga groaned again. The redhead smirked as he felt long fingers twine into the side of his hair that was free from braids, pulling him closer and tighter. He could even feel the twitch of the muscles telling of conflicting instruction.
More sounds came as Carbuncle moved to swallow down Rafaga’s cock. He closed his eyes, concentrating on sensation rather than thinking - aside from that of how to please and therefore distract Rafaga. He hollowed his cheeks and playfully flicked his tongue against the tip on the transition of an up and down stroke.
“Ahh, stop hiding behind the Red Sheep,” came another moan, filled to the brim with frustration.
The redhead did not respond other than continue his ministrations. The accusation was a little insulting because of all people, he thought Rafaga would be the one to know the difference between him and the thing he could become. And he was not assuming the qualities of the latter… at least, not intentionally.
“Carbuncle-I-oh my god,” Rafaga gasped and groaned. Using his grip on Carbuncle’s head, he stilled the smaller vampire’s movements to thrust into that open mouth at a pace that suited him. And it did not last long.
The redhead opened his eyes, pulling his head back enough to be able to look at Rafaga’s face. With the latter’s release came a dazed, wide smile that both amused and bemused Carbuncle. He swallowed down the ejaculate without reflection; withdrawing whilst sucking to avoid any mess.
Rafaga’s smile was lost and he urged the other to stand again “’Buncle,” and he only continued when Carbuncle was back at his normal height. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“Because I’m weak,” he replied, rolling his eyes and leaning to press a kiss to Rafaga’s open mouth. “I-”
“Is this because of what I said? God, Carbuncle, I didn’t mean it like that!”
The redhead groaned, sliding out before between the door and the other vampire. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to talk. To talk, you apologise and waste time and I don’t get what I want!”
He sighed as a cold hand tenderly touched his shoulder, waiting for the touch to not be rejected before those fingertips traced the sinews of his muscles.
“What is it that you want?”
Taking that hand, Carbuncle pressed his lips to it momentarily before discarding it like a message that came too late. “It doesn’t matter,” he stooped to pick his dressing gown up from the floor and pulled it back on.
Rafaga’s lips parted, prepared for more words, when Carbuncle turned and brushed past to get to the door. As he laid his hand on the knob to twist it open, the brunette gripped his shoulder again and turned him back, uttering in the sternest voice Carbuncle could ever recall from him, “No.”
“Rafaga-”
“No. Take what you want from me. Use me, ‘Buncle,” though his stare was intense, Carbuncle looked anywhere but at it. He felt Rafaga’s hands frame his chin again; fingertips brushed gentle against high cheekbones. “What you want always matters, to me. Use me to make yourself feel strong again,”
He took a few moments to assess the situation, and trying to ignore all his former comments. They were almost meaningless anyway. Rafaga would have believed in their hollowness the second they were uttered; proven by his persistence. Was there truly any shame in a mutual seizing and sating of desires?
“We’ve done it before, Carbuncle,”
Finally sighing, the redhead sneered. He rested his head back against the door. “Only-only-if you stop talking.”