A friend of mine on , coxcomb, got me into Vassalord some time ago and I wrote this in my Calc class one day and sent it to her… and instead of doing my college apps like I should be doing today, I randomly decided to upload this.

I don't own Vassalord.


It was agonizing.

That second-stretching, gut wrenching feeling of being empty.

Charley tenderly pressed his forehead against the cold pillar, attempting to find comfort in the chilly stone, yet found none.

Johnny would laugh if he saw Charley now; he always did.

"Silly little Cherry~ I knew you couldn't go without your snackpack~"

That voice would grate on his nerves until he disintegrated…. but Gold Almighty, did he want to hear it now. His dependence on his pervy master was sickening.

… but he didn't hate it.

"Fuck…" Munching on the tip of his milky glove, Charley pulled the piece of cloth off, stuffing it into his pocket before dragging his cybernetic hand down his face. Briefly he reflected on how long it'd been since he'd seen his own right hand (was he really 147 now?), but the pounding in his head distracted him almost instantly.

Pinching his forehead to fight the pain, a thought crossed his mind: the people outside. No one would notice if one, lonely wallflower disappeared – and it'd only be a little… He could starve at this rate, and no one would notice one little human…

No. God would notice.

Letting a groan escape, Charley turned his body around to slide his back down the pillar, landing with a thump on the floor. He'd have to dust his pants off or something before returning to the banquet, if he even did return… Somehow, a devote Christian randomly tackling another man to the floor and ravishing his neck didn't sound like a good idea.

Could a stomach eat itself from the inside, out? Because it sure felt like it could.

Why did he keep overestimating himself? The job was originally only two days; Charley could go for at least two or three weeks at most without succumbing to his Master's luscious bodily fluids.

It'd been a month. And he was starving.

Charley cringed as his insides wriggled painfully against his will, pleading helplessly for the irony substance. Maybe he really would die tonight… and it'd all be because of some stupid moral code he couldn't break; nothing dramatic or worthy of remembering… just his own stupidity.

What a drag.

"Why didn't you call for me…?"

Letting his eyes slip shut, Charley gave a heavy sigh, cursing the human function of his brain (the part of him clearly hallucinating his Master's disapproving final words for him). "Mm… didn't want to bother…" Why not…? There was no law against talking to imaginary beings while suffering along in the back of a deserted hallway in God's domain.

"Bullshit." This was a very accurate interpretation; he couldn't help but praise his data base. "You never had a problem dragging your happy ass to my bedchambers before when you needed a meal."

"You're in America; I'm in rural France… Not exactly a day trip." A smirked crossed the blond's face. "You wouldn't even make it past the customs office without me toning down your flamboyance."

The mental voice scoffed disapprovingly. "Please… don't you think I'd find a way to do what it takes to help out my little Cherry?"

The conversation almost made the throbbing in his body somewhat bearable. "I'm a tainted man, Master, seeking acceptance from both God and the Devil… I don't even deserve such action from you."

Incredible… he'd been with the famous Johnny Rayflo for so long that he could feel the elder man's breath on his ear as he came up close, voice hushed. His own body's abilities surprised him to the very end…

"But what kind of master would I be if I left my vassal to die…?"

Were those his Master's gentle fingers on his face, or those of death; teasing him as if to say 'I can take you whenever I please, I just choose not to.'

Then again, would death also press warm, thin lips to his own? He'd never known death to be so flirtatious…

Finally, blue hues parted open, expecting Satan himself to be standing there to take him away…

He was greeted with chocolate hues staring deep into his own, sported with scraggly raven strands of unkempt hair.

Charley had to blink several times, not trusting his vision. He'd felt him, but wasn't he a…? "Mas…ter?" This was another hallucination, right? Johnny couldn't have…

Master Rayflo, in the flesh, lowered himself down, straddling Charley's legs, his trademark playful grin forming. "You underestimate me, Cherry… I wouldn't leave you to die." Despite Charley's clearly suffering status, Johnny couldn't help but poke the man's nose in a condescending manner. "You got me on the traveling bit though… You have no idea how hard it was to pick up your scent all the way out here, Heaven forbid figure out how the human flight system works."

A grin formed over Charley's features, twitching between amusement at his master and the slowly worsening pain. He was so thrilled to see Johnny that even tears almost formed.

Without warning, Johnny shifted, removing his upper garments in two or three swift movements until only his bare, built chest remained. "C'mon," he said, cracking his neck for good measure and to loosen up the muscles. "Let's get you fed before you start disintegrating." To the surprise flashing through Charley's eyes, Johnny shook his head with a grin. "I'm joking."

Assurance flooding through the cyborg's face, Johnny sat comfortably on the younger man's lap, leaning over ever-so-gently to rest his head on the blond's shoulder, arching his neck to make the bite easy. Somehow, he figured Charley wasn't exactly in a state to tender up the flesh before going ripshit on Johnny's trapezius.

"Also," The former priest spoke up, glancing at his disciple. "You're taking responsible for my unconscious corpse if you suck it dry." Which he highly anticipated, considering how long it'd been since Charley fed.

A smirk was the simple reply as fangs made themselves known.

"As you wish, Master."


For Christmas, coxcomb wants me to do another Vassalord fic… we'll see c: