Fandom: Trinity Blood
Pairing: Isaak x Dietrich
Synopsis: Things never, ever go smoothly after a poker game. Not when it's them you're talking about.
He stirred, shades of color starting to saturate the blurry surroundings. His head felt heavy, remnants of alcohol still present in his system. The throbbing headache which started to make its presence felt didn't help either.
Dietrich groaned, rolling onto his back, forcing his eyes open. A glimmer of sunlight filtered in through the heavy drapes. Out of a corner of his eye, he saw the broken glasses, the empty bottles, the playing cards scattered amongst dying rose petals, and without warning, the memory of what had transpired last night hit him.
"Awake, are you?" Soft, like velvet, but sharp enough to bring Dietrich out of his stupor. The puppetmaster shook his head slightly to clear it, then turned his gaze to where that all too familiar voice had come from. Isaak, dark devil that he was, was dressed as immaculately as always, but sans coat, sitting on a chair beside the bed, smoking idly.
"It certainly seems that way." He frowned slightly, his words were a little slurred, probably an after effect of the alcohol which, he was sure, had not been completely cleared out of his system. Dietrich didn't even try to move, lying there on his back.
Isaak calmly walked around to the side of the bed, standing over Dietrich. He watched as the puppetmaster's eyes opened again, to look up at him. A predatory smile graced his lips. Dietrich looked… almost innocent, lying there nursing a headache, eyes half-lidded, it reminded him that the puppetmaster was still young. Young, and sadistic, cruel… and defenseless.
The magician let out a breath. He leaned down, fingers curling around Dietrich's neck, applying a gentle pressure to the pale skin there. Dietrich's eyes opened as he felt the pressure on his neck, only to find Isaak's lips pressed against his, the taste of wine and blood still evident on the magician's lips.
"Going to strangle me, magician?" Dietrich's voice was a hoarse whisper. Slender, slightly bloodied fingers wrapped around Isaak's wrist under the sleeve, attempting to exert an equal pressure.
"You tempt me so, puppetmaster. But I believe I have told you before… temptation is sin." Isaak's lips brushed over Dietrich's ear, before nipping sharply at the pale skin.
"Then I would be your snake… leading you to sin, no?"
The teeth returned, grazing skin, leaving a reddish imprint of its trail. Isaak's voice was a deadly hiss against Dietrich's skin, while slender fingers started to creep up Dietrich's pale stomach, nails dragging over skin. "Oh, you're the most poisonous snake of all."
Dietrich's fingers tangled in Isaak's hair, his head tipping back to expose more of his throat. "A snake who'd offer his throat…"
Lips closed over Dietrich's throat. A soft moan escaped the younger man's lips. "To the wolf with red roses?"
When those lips left the pale skin, they left a dark red mark against skin as pale as ivory. Hazel eyes opened, his lithe body twisting slightly to turn and face the magician who had pinned him down. Within seconds, Isaak felt razor sharp strings lash his wrists together, cutting through the fabric of the gloves.
The puppetmaster shifted, straddling the now-captive magician's waist.
"To a wolf who's marked me…" Dietrich leaned down, one hand pinning Isaak's wrist down, the other pressed against Isaak's chest, toying with his shirt. "Perhaps I should return the favour in kind."
A sharp gasp issued from Isaak's lips as Dietrich's teeth sank into his neck, bruising but not breaking skin. His fingers started undoing the rest of Isaak's shirt, ghosting over the exposed skin, absently teasing the more sensative areas on the magician's chest. A smirk crept over his delicate features, watching as the shadows shifted, creatures made by Isaak's power starting to rise into existance.
"Summoning your monsters now, magician?" The strings tightened, cutting into skin and drawing blood. A soft groan slipped from Isaak's lips, his arms tensing up. But his pride wouldn't permit him to say anything which might have given away his emotions. Dietrich sighed softly, fingers trailing over Isaak's cheek. "Are you insecure about losing control?"
Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, taunting the magician with those words. The puppetmaster found himself lying on his back, restrained by tendrils of shadows. Isaak sat calmly beside Dietrich, having light a cigar.
Dietrich tugged at the restraints, and the magician only smiled knowingly. "Resistance is futile, my dear puppetmaster." He breathed out a stream of smoke, smirking at the bound Dietrich. Lips tasting of smoke and wine were pressed against the puppetmaster's.
"I'm aware of that." Dietrich murmured, fingers curling around Isaak's neck, tangling in his hair. The magician smirked, and did not question how he had gotten free of the shadows. Of course, there would always be next time to find out, but for now, there were other, more pressing matters at hand.