Blood always had been Bel's most favourite thing in the world – especially royal blood. He could remember when he had murdered his twin, remember bathing in the blood that stained the white carpet of their bedroom, repainted the walls red, obscured the light of the sun through the window…
He could remember the high he felt from such a beautiful sight, his twin, his mirror image, lying dead, covered in blood in the middle of their shared bedroom. He could remember never having seen a more beautiful sight than the one that had been before him, and it had been days before he washed the blood from his own body, thinking such a thing was far too beautiful to wash away.
That image could only be rivalled by the one Bel was in right now. A twitching, whimpering mess of a boy lay before Bel, blood pooled around them in rivers. Teal eyes could only stare helplessly at the man he loved and trusted, pleading silently for Bel to stop the abuse on his already-broken body.
Bel was far too fascinated with the blood to even hear the pleas, much more interested in the amount of gore that was flowing from his victim. Just like Rasiel's blood had, this boy's blood coated the room in copious amounts.
"So beautiful… Ushishishi…" Bel dipped his knife down into fresh blood, bringing it to his mouth to lick. He giggled when the serrated edge sliced his tongue, lapping up at his blood as some of it dribbled down his chin, mixing with the other's.
Moans escaped the usually-unfeeling boy's mouth, wishing that this torture would end already. Why, senpai…? Why have you done this to me…? Didn't we… I thought we loved each other…
Bel continued to stab down at the body before him, wanting to see if all parts of the boy bled the same blood, if every spot drew the same reaction of tears and pleas.
Bel could feel the way his erection begged to be freed from its confines but he couldn't stop just yet – there were still so many places to stab, cut, slice… "Ah… ahhh…! So good…!"
Reaching down a hand to fondle his shaft, Bel continued to draw delicious sounds from the boy, loving the screams that erupted from the younger's vocal cords after slicing through the boy's sensitive sac.
Bel couldn't resist any longer – pulling his own pants down, Bel forced himself into the bloodied entrance without preparation, not even a warning for his victim.
The boy's body struggled weakly beneath his as screams filled the air, as blood dribbled down, staining Bel's erection just like it had when he had taken his brother's dying corpse.
So good, so tight, f-fuck, ahh, so much blood, oh, god, oh, god, coming, coming, COMING!
Bel had no idea how long he had lasted for before he emptied himself into the boy's body, his blood-induced euphoria coming to an end.
The satisfied grin that had stretched across Bel's face slowly disappeared as the bloodied, mutilated face of his beloved Fran came into view. Time froze as he realised what he had done.
"…F-froggy…?" Bel was too scared to speak, not even remembering how this had happened – all he remembered was the blood, the beautiful, delicious blood. "…Froggy, wake up…"
Bel wrapped his arms around himself like a scared child, falling to his knees as his body started to shake. This was it, Fran's dead, his beautiful, beloved Froggy, dead, dead, because of him, dead – such a beautiful corpse – no!
Uncurling his arms from around himself, Bel reached out, pulling the bloodied, pale body into his arms. He buried his face in blood-stained teal hair as he started to cry, knowing that despite the countless people he had massacred without a second thought, his Froggy was different – Froggy was what gave him life, the strength to pull through another day, someone to love, laugh with, kiss, cuddle, make love to in the early morning hours.
Without his Froggy, there was no point to life.
When the bedroom door opened and Lussuria's voice could be heard, calm and soft until the man realised the scene and started shrieking in disgust, in horror, devastation, disbelief – so many conflicting emotions.
"Froggy…" Bel ignored Lussuria's screaming for someone to come upstairs – maybe if they hadn't left the fucking mansion for a few stupid fucking drinks, someone would have been here to stop this!
No one dared take the lifeless body from Bel's arms, knowing they would be asking for death by doing so – and all that could be heard for the rest of the night was Bel's tears, the blond's pleads, begs for his lover to return to him.
They all knew what had happened; it was a love of art that was taken too far.