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I can't believe I actually did this...I'm going to die.
So, uh. I finally wrote p0rnfic. ..........hydr0phobia this is all your fault. Also, gift for you. ...This was meant to be a drabble. DRABBLE. What's it doing at 1030 words? *headdesk*
See, Radu's hot. Pun intended. We were talking about it and this went to that and that went elsewhere and it ended in her offering to write me something if I wrote her "radup0rnz."
......I-it's hydr0phobia ♥~~!! WHAT DO I SAY. XD
It is, and should go without saying, NSFW.
please keep in mind that I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE so cut me some slack, yeah? both the writing of the porn and the writing of these characters AND CANON. ^^;;;;
Series: Trinity Blood, mild spoilers at the end for Act.29 Dirty Dancing
Pairing: Dietrich/Radu, implied Radu/Ion
Prompt: 'stifling'
Title: Heat
The air was hot, pressing down all around him, Dietrich notes. Not that he cared, really. After all, he knew why the usually cool, dark room is filled with a scorching, dry heat that tore at his eyes and skin and hair each time he moved. The reason? Why, it was pinned beneath him, glaring up at him with eyes telling him, I hate you, I want to kill you. "Fuck you," the Lord Radu Barvon, Baron of Luxor, a noble of the Methuselah, hisses at him.
"No, Flamberg," Dietrich says soothingly, "I'm fucking you." His gentle petting and soft smile a stark contrast to the sudden harsh thrust. "And you like it, don't you?" Dietrich thrusts again, harder, and Radu's back arches in pain--no, pleasure--no it's pain--lusthatedesirepain all mixed together and he can't tell anymore what he's feeling because it's so wrong and horrible and he hates that man and he always will so why the fuck is he tilting his hips and trying to get more?
Radu bares his fangs and Dietrich smiles at him. Then, he promptly takes Radu's cock into his hands and Radu's breath catches in his throat as he moans unwittingly. Dietrich's eyes are smug as they look down at him and Radu suddenly wants to tear them out, wants to burn the eyes that mock him so clearly. A flame bursts into being on his palm. "That's not a good idea, Radu," the name laden with scorn in it's false gentleness. Dietrich slides his hands slowly up Radu's chest, along his arms until his entire body is nearly flat along Radu's, his hands encircling Radu's wrists where his wires bound the Methuselah against his will.
"You see, Flamberg," Dietrich reverted back to using Radu's title in Orden, "If you try that..." The wires around Radu's wrists, ankles, neck tightened, until Radu's head fell back down against the slab he was held against, gasping harshly for air.
"Marionettenspieler," he bites out, a heavy bid for air between each word, "Release me." Dietrich raises an eyebrow, but the wire around his neck slackens even as the ones around his limbs tighten further. Puppet Master's sharp grin is a warning, tells him to let the fire go. Radu narrows his eyes, then as the wires threaten to slice a limb off, he slumps, the fire going out. The room is stifled and it's getting hard to breathe; that was not the first time Radu summoned his flame nor would it be the last. "I hate you. I hate this."
Dietrich leans down close and speaks against Radu's ear, each word ghosting across quietly as the fingers of his right hand trail down his arm, down his chest, to rest lightly on Radu's hips, sliding downdowndown to wrap around his cock that was as hard as it had ever been. "I think not." The gloved fingers skillfully stroked him, causing Radu to buck up with a choked cry of desire and disgust. "You see? You like this. You want more. You enjoy spreading your legs for the Terran."
With those words, Dietrich jerks once, roughly, then let go, relishing the involuntary cry of dismay as Radu's hips strains for contact, then the following shudder of dismay, of horror, of repulsion that shook the noble. Bracing his hands on either side of Radu's head, Dietrich laughs, the sound cruel and beautiful, not unlike the man himself. He surges forward, again and again, shifting until he found that spot that forced his unwilling partner to writhe beneath him, caught in unwanted ecstasy.
Laughing again, he kissed Radu's forehead in the mockery of a blessing before reaching between them. Grasping the hard length that lay against the Methuselah's stomach, Dietrich pumps it a few times, flicking his thumb over the tip as he thrust into the lithe body beneath him.
Without a sound (a closer look reveals he has bitten entirely through his bottom lip), Radu comes, shuddering and tightening blissfully around Dietrich. A few more strokes and he too, is done, spilling into Radu's body. Dietrich bends slightly, not yet pulling out as he softens. Tracing a finger through the mess on Radu's stomach, he cackles (for there is no other word for it), and brings the dirty finger up to smear the semen over Radu's lips. "I can see, Radu Barvon, that you truly disliked this." Radu glared as well as he could.
With a snap of his coat, Dietrich is turning away, cleaning himself with the white glove that was no longer white and tucking himself back into his pants, smoothing the material down. He is immaculate again. "Do not fail again, Flamberg," he warns with a smile so soft it's sharp, "Next time, I will not be so gentle."
And he's turning away to leave the room, leaving his back bare, walking with the calm strides of someone who knows he has nothing to fear. Radu is furious, but there's nothing he can do. A flick of Puppet Master's wrist, an afterthought really, frees Radu from his bonds, the wires whipping back into the shadows, waiting until they were next called and Radu sits up, touching the blood that seeps down from the shallow cuts in his neck, bringing his wrist up to lap at the blood from his wrist.
Two days later, he is standing by the Empress's side. Two days ten minutes later, he's staring down at Ion's shocked face. He can't move. He's moving, but he can't move. Radu summons his entire strength and speaks, fighting against the wires--invisible this time--controlling his body.
"Run...Ion...this is...a trap!"
It's getting harder to fight. His arms shake with the effort to hold the sword up, his vision blurrs with his tears.
"Forgive me...my friend...!! They......"Orden"..."
And then he couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything anymore. The last thing he saw was Ion's face...and not the way he would have liked to have died. He would rather have seen Ion smile once more, laugh at him and call him 'friend.'
...But that wasn't possible any longer.
Radu could feel the fire consume him from within. It was getting hard to breathe.
So, uh. I finally wrote p0rnfic. ..........hydr0phobia this is all your fault. Also, gift for you. ...This was meant to be a drabble. DRABBLE. What's it doing at 1030 words? *headdesk*
See, Radu's hot. Pun intended. We were talking about it and this went to that and that went elsewhere and it ended in her offering to write me something if I wrote her "radup0rnz."
......I-it's hydr0phobia ♥~~!! WHAT DO I SAY. XD
It is, and should go without saying, NSFW.
please keep in mind that I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE so cut me some slack, yeah? both the writing of the porn and the writing of these characters AND CANON. ^^;;;;
Series: Trinity Blood, mild spoilers at the end for Act.29 Dirty Dancing
Pairing: Dietrich/Radu, implied Radu/Ion
Prompt: 'stifling'
Title: Heat
The air was hot, pressing down all around him, Dietrich notes. Not that he cared, really. After all, he knew why the usually cool, dark room is filled with a scorching, dry heat that tore at his eyes and skin and hair each time he moved. The reason? Why, it was pinned beneath him, glaring up at him with eyes telling him, I hate you, I want to kill you. "Fuck you," the Lord Radu Barvon, Baron of Luxor, a noble of the Methuselah, hisses at him.
"No, Flamberg," Dietrich says soothingly, "I'm fucking you." His gentle petting and soft smile a stark contrast to the sudden harsh thrust. "And you like it, don't you?" Dietrich thrusts again, harder, and Radu's back arches in pain--no, pleasure--no it's pain--lusthatedesirepain all mixed together and he can't tell anymore what he's feeling because it's so wrong and horrible and he hates that man and he always will so why the fuck is he tilting his hips and trying to get more?
Radu bares his fangs and Dietrich smiles at him. Then, he promptly takes Radu's cock into his hands and Radu's breath catches in his throat as he moans unwittingly. Dietrich's eyes are smug as they look down at him and Radu suddenly wants to tear them out, wants to burn the eyes that mock him so clearly. A flame bursts into being on his palm. "That's not a good idea, Radu," the name laden with scorn in it's false gentleness. Dietrich slides his hands slowly up Radu's chest, along his arms until his entire body is nearly flat along Radu's, his hands encircling Radu's wrists where his wires bound the Methuselah against his will.
"You see, Flamberg," Dietrich reverted back to using Radu's title in Orden, "If you try that..." The wires around Radu's wrists, ankles, neck tightened, until Radu's head fell back down against the slab he was held against, gasping harshly for air.
"Marionettenspieler," he bites out, a heavy bid for air between each word, "Release me." Dietrich raises an eyebrow, but the wire around his neck slackens even as the ones around his limbs tighten further. Puppet Master's sharp grin is a warning, tells him to let the fire go. Radu narrows his eyes, then as the wires threaten to slice a limb off, he slumps, the fire going out. The room is stifled and it's getting hard to breathe; that was not the first time Radu summoned his flame nor would it be the last. "I hate you. I hate this."
Dietrich leans down close and speaks against Radu's ear, each word ghosting across quietly as the fingers of his right hand trail down his arm, down his chest, to rest lightly on Radu's hips, sliding downdowndown to wrap around his cock that was as hard as it had ever been. "I think not." The gloved fingers skillfully stroked him, causing Radu to buck up with a choked cry of desire and disgust. "You see? You like this. You want more. You enjoy spreading your legs for the Terran."
With those words, Dietrich jerks once, roughly, then let go, relishing the involuntary cry of dismay as Radu's hips strains for contact, then the following shudder of dismay, of horror, of repulsion that shook the noble. Bracing his hands on either side of Radu's head, Dietrich laughs, the sound cruel and beautiful, not unlike the man himself. He surges forward, again and again, shifting until he found that spot that forced his unwilling partner to writhe beneath him, caught in unwanted ecstasy.
Laughing again, he kissed Radu's forehead in the mockery of a blessing before reaching between them. Grasping the hard length that lay against the Methuselah's stomach, Dietrich pumps it a few times, flicking his thumb over the tip as he thrust into the lithe body beneath him.
Without a sound (a closer look reveals he has bitten entirely through his bottom lip), Radu comes, shuddering and tightening blissfully around Dietrich. A few more strokes and he too, is done, spilling into Radu's body. Dietrich bends slightly, not yet pulling out as he softens. Tracing a finger through the mess on Radu's stomach, he cackles (for there is no other word for it), and brings the dirty finger up to smear the semen over Radu's lips. "I can see, Radu Barvon, that you truly disliked this." Radu glared as well as he could.
With a snap of his coat, Dietrich is turning away, cleaning himself with the white glove that was no longer white and tucking himself back into his pants, smoothing the material down. He is immaculate again. "Do not fail again, Flamberg," he warns with a smile so soft it's sharp, "Next time, I will not be so gentle."
And he's turning away to leave the room, leaving his back bare, walking with the calm strides of someone who knows he has nothing to fear. Radu is furious, but there's nothing he can do. A flick of Puppet Master's wrist, an afterthought really, frees Radu from his bonds, the wires whipping back into the shadows, waiting until they were next called and Radu sits up, touching the blood that seeps down from the shallow cuts in his neck, bringing his wrist up to lap at the blood from his wrist.
Two days later, he is standing by the Empress's side. Two days ten minutes later, he's staring down at Ion's shocked face. He can't move. He's moving, but he can't move. Radu summons his entire strength and speaks, fighting against the wires--invisible this time--controlling his body.
"Run...Ion...this is...a trap!"
It's getting harder to fight. His arms shake with the effort to hold the sword up, his vision blurrs with his tears.
"Forgive me...my friend...!! They......"Orden"..."
And then he couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything anymore. The last thing he saw was Ion's face...and not the way he would have liked to have died. He would rather have seen Ion smile once more, laugh at him and call him 'friend.'
...But that wasn't possible any longer.
Radu could feel the fire consume him from within. It was getting hard to breathe.