Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. Beware of OOC-ness. Let’s say I got inspired by that scene in the manga volume 2 The Sleeping Beauty where Dietrich and Isaak start discussing fairy tales…

This is for all you IxD fangirls out there. Isaak x Dietrich. Heavy M warning for yaoi and all that stuff. PWP.

Warning: you may be traumatized by RCO’s take on fairytales.

Cruel Fairytale

Dietrich knew Isaak’s watching him reflected on the window glass even as he puffed away at that filthy cigarillo. Even where he was lying on the couch, the smoke choked him. He stretched across those soft velvet cushions, reaching over to the side-table with its vase. Carefully, he selected a long-stalked rose. Lying back on the couch, he felt the thorns prick his finger and smiled at his apparent carelessness.

“Say, have you heard of that old fairy tale Sleeping Beauty where the princess pricks her finger on a spindle and falls asleep in a castle for a hundred years?” he murmured and sucked on his wounded finger, savouring the slight tang of blood. Isaak stiffened. Even at that distance, he could smell the blood. “Do you suppose she will really wake up because of the prince’s kiss?”

Isaak did not turn away from the window. “Do you really believe that is the real ending to that story?”

”What’s the real ending then, Panzer Magier?” Dietrich yawned and snapped the stem of the rose. “I expect it was something… darker… than the Brothers Grimm penned. After all, Snow White’s evil queen danced to her death in red-hot shoes. And Gretel roasted a witch...”

“My dear Dietrich, fairy tales are often cruel…” The Panzer Magier now stood beside the couch, his gloved hands caressing soft brown hair. “Do you really wish to know?” The youth smiled back at him, having been with Isaak long enough to know where this show of tenderness would lead. For a while, he was content to savour his mentor’s caresses. The rain has started and was pattering on the windows. The fire in the fireplace flickered, casting shadows. The smell of tobacco grew stronger, making Dietrich cough. He allowed his eyes to half-close as his mentor leans over him.

“Go to sleep.” Isaak walked purposefully away from the couch and back to the window. “No shoes on the couch.” Obediently, Dietrich shed his shoes and socks and loosened his tie.

The rich smell of tobacco mingled with the heavy fragrance of the roses. Lured by the steady pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the glass and the occasional crackle of flames from the hearth, Dietrich’s eyelids grew heavier. Isaak watched and waited. His brown-haired angel snuggled against the soft velvet and let out a deliciously soft sigh. Finally, Dietrich drifted off to sleep. How beautifully perfect for what he had in mind.

Isaak stubbed out the cigarillo in his cut glass ashtray before advancing on the sleeper. He let his hand skim Dietrich’s side lightly before resting on a bony hip. He gave a little squeeze, enough to make Dietrich murmur unintelligibly in his sleep.

“My sleeping beauty,” he whispered into his lover’s ear before tracing its contours with his tongue. Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty… Dietrich turned fitfully, exposing his pale neck to the Magician’s kisses.

A gloved hand darted between the boy’s thighs, cupping and coaxing him to arousal. Dietrich gasped involuntarily at his touch. Brown eyes fluttered open, confused by sleep. “I-Isaak… no… not tonight... I’m too tired,” Dietrich moaned.

“Dietrich, Dietrich, didn’t you want to know the truth behind that old fairytale?” Isaak smirked and eased Dietrich’s pants off. With a rustle of starched cloth, they fell onto the carpet. “Are you going to tell me a bedtime story, Isaak? How unlike you,” the youth purred. The rain lashed hard against the window, drowned out by the occasional roll of thunder. Black eyes met brown ones flecked with amber from the firelight.

“Once a upon a time in a dark forest, there was a castle where a beauty slept, so the tale goes…”

The couch creaked slightly as Isaak straddled Dietrich, unbuttoning his shirt, touching him in ways that made the brown-haired youth gasp with the sheer pleasure those gloved hands bestowed on him. Reaching out, Dietrich languidly grabbed a handful of long raven hair as Isaak bent towards him. He arched upwards so their groins ground against each other in mutual desire. The older man planted a chaste peck on the brown-haired youth’s lips. “Isaak, so is this the kiss that woke up Sleeping Beauty?”

“No. Fairytales are always cruel, my beauty.” An ember flared in the grate, illuminating the predatory smile on Isaak’s face. “The fairytale is a lie spread by a vampire wizard to lure gullible youths to his castle so that he may torture them and drink their blood. One should never believe fairytales, Dietrich…”

Too late, Dietrich sensed the change in the mood. He would be hurt, again. Violated and left bloodied and crying… Frantic, Dietrich tried to scoot away, only to be shoved forcefully back onto the couch. Inhumanly strong hands gripped his ankles and forcibly pried his legs apart. Dietrich screamed and clawed at Isaak’s still-clothed chest, only to receive a sharp backhand that stunned him.

“You want this, didn’t you, little slut. You’re almost begging for this.” The Magician undid his pants and slammed into the trembling body under him, as he had done so many times before.

“Please don’t…please… ISAAK!” He knew that was coming but he still screamed at the brutal intrusion. Dietrich felt his insides rip, tear and bleed under those merciless thrusts. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt anymore. It still did. Part of him welcomed the pain, craved the release… Part of him cowered from the brutality and pain. A whirlwind of pain and pleasure assailed him as he was ridden, crying and screaming curses, towards the final release.

He flailed out, knocking over the vase. With a crash, roses and crystal shards were strewn over the carpet. Helpless, he clung onto his tormenter until the scalding warmth filled his already abused body. Release, sweet release…

“Now, doesn’t that feel good?” Isaak whispered into his ear as he brushed strands of damp brown hair out of his lover’s eyes.

“Ja,” Dietrich gasped weakly. He was in pain, bleeding and sore but he still had to admit it felt good having Isaak’s skilled hands on him. Rough and dirty. “Was that the real ending to the fairytale?”

“Almost…” Isaak grabbed a handful of brown hair and yanked Dietrich’s head backwards to expose his pale neck. He brought his fangs down on the exposed flesh and sucked greedily.

“Isaak… Isaak…” Dietrich gasped over and over until the loss of blood dulled his consciousness. Only when he went limp did Isaak release him. Straightening his clothes, he stepped back to survey his handiwork, a lithe body, half-naked and draped on the couch like a fallen angel. What a lovely picture Dietrich made.

It was a pity he was Terran. There were so many exquisite bedtime games he would love to play with Dietrich… What bedtime story might his little angel be interested in the next time? Red Riding Hood? Or maybe Snow White? Isaak pondered the possibilities as he left the room. All fairytales have their cruel side…

Author’s Note:

Okay, most fairytales have a cruel side. Fairy tales can be scary. I mean, witches in gingerbread houses who eat children, evil queens and step-parents… Review?