Summary: Noir controls Florian…but only because Florian allows him to have the control.

Rating: Teen

Genre: Romance

Disclaimer: If the characters were mine, don't you think I'd be in my bedroom enjoying their company instead of writing fan fiction?

Note: This isn't a plot-driven story. It's Florian's thoughts on his relationship with Noir.


Noir controls me, but that's only because I allow him to control me. The submission is a sin against my pride, however, it's the wisest course according to my longing for a peaceful living environment as well as my empathy. I understand that when Noir was a child he was constantly a victim helpless of his circumstances, hence now that he's an adult (I use the term 'adult' loosely.) he has a need to feel as if he is the master of everything and everyone around him.

Even though I'm not precisely happy about being obedient, I don't resent it on most days because Noir's demands aren't unreasonable. What would be the point of arguing against writing a few official letters, or picking up some books from the store, when I want to earn my keep in the household anyway?

I pick my battles. I only argue with Noir when I'm morally offended by something he has done, or is going to do. (Beyond the crime of stealing, of course; I've resigned myself to the fact that Noir has neither the will, nor the desire, to resist the allure of a challenge and a treasure. I take comfort from the knowledge that he only takes from those that can afford the loss.) The remainder of the time? It's easier for all of the estate's residents if everybody, including me, accepts Noir's supremacy.

The same is true in bed. Noir has his way with me almost every night because I let him take me without complaint. Only two things cause our sexual interactions to be different from the rest of our mutual experiences. The first is that - while I tolerate the passive role in daytime life - during love-making I actually enjoy it. It's pathetic of me, I know, but after everything that has happened to me I can't help feeling safe when Noir, who is strong both physically and mentally, wraps me in his muscular arms and promises that I will belong to him and be under his protection forever. The second factor is that the bedroom is the only place in which Noir doesn't hold my debt over my head. If I say that I don't want to do something, or that I'm not in the mood, then Noir accepts it without trying to persuade or force me. He respects my wishes and I love him for that.

Actually, I love him for many reasons. One of the most important incentives is that I know he loves me in return; me and not just what I can do for him, which is more than any of my fellow aristocrats have ever done. It took me a great deal of time and contemplation to believe that Noir valued me as a human being, and not merely as a pretty part of his jewel collection, but his constant rescuing and concern eventually proved the truth of his emotions.

Caring about people is easy for me, however, it's rare for Noir to become emotionally attached to someone. So seldom, in fact, that I might be able to use his feelings for me against him if I wished. Not that I ever would; I adore Noir's trust too much to misuse it. The fact simply remains that I probably could…Then again, maybe I couldn't.

After all, Noir's love is strange and possessive, like he is only capable of being comfortable with our relationship if he feels that he's the dominant figure in it. That's fine with me. Noir being a control freak is one of his numerous faults, though I choose to overlook it along with all of his others because…How could I not? How could anybody not have affection for someone that is brave, loyal, intelligent, and willing to die for him? If there's a person in the world that has the ability to reject such devotion, then I'm glad that individual isn't me.

I'm happy despite the fact that I am damned for loving him. The 'People of the Book,' no matter which religious text they follow, all concur that intimacy between people of the same sex results in a one-way ticket to Hell. This should frighten me, but I've already been to bed with The Devil, so any other punishment pales in comparison.

Perhaps living with a thieving usurer has corrupted the values my mother worked to instill in me, for I've come to the conclusion that a life of propriety and piety isn't worth living if it means that life is also lonely and depressing. I may go to Hell for loving Noir, however – even if the destination is unpleasant - I'm determined to enjoy the ride. I may not be particularly clever, though I have certainly learned the lesson that the fleeting nature of joy results in it being all the more precious, and it needs to be held onto and treasured whenever it's found.

Granting Noir control of my body and heart, and Satan the eternal damnation of my soul, are small prices to pay in exchange for love and happiness.