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A quiet sigh passes my lips.These clothes are itchy. Uncomfortable. And this place reeks of salty tears, dried flowers and strangers.Much to my dismay, my mother has torn me away from the pages of my favorite book to drag me along to a funeral being held for a man I have never met.Leaning forward, I rest my face on my palm. The ceremony has only just begun, and already I am terribly bored as we sit in the rear pews near the doors.Tuning out the muted sobs and the priest droning on about eternal life is proving to be difficult. I want to go home.The rich scent of sandalwood incense is followed by familiar bootsteps clacking behind us.I turn around to see the Undertaker gliding in like a great raven.My heart begins to race." 'ello, m' Lady. M' Lord." He tips his hat. "My condolences.""Hello, Undertaker," My mother greets. "And thank you. Say hello, Vincent! Where are your manners?"I lick my lips. Suddenly my mouth feels dry. "Hello."Since the day we met, I have had an odd attraction to the mortician that only ever dresses in black, flowing robes. This problem only seemed to become worse when I turned twelve, and began to have... desires. Desires that I do not fully understand."Oh, don't mind him. He's moping because he wanted to stay home and read." She says, as if I am not sitting right next to her. "You know how the boy is."He chuckles. "I do, indeed."Undertaker takes his place by the doors, standing behind us. I glance back at him, and he smiles down at me, placing one large, heavy hand on my shoulder.I stop breathing.It is a bold move- I am nobility, and while he has worked alongside my family for as long as I can recall, he is working class. Most wouldn't presume to touch me.It makes me wonder what else he might dare to do.My eyes follow the length of the elegant, sharp fingers that curve over my shoulder, and I note that his hands are not wrinkled or spotted like the old man I believed him to be. Scarred, yes, but there are no other signs of detrimental aging. Were I to guess, I would say he is in his early thirties.I think about how easily those hands can wrap around my neck. How they might feel as they span over my chest. His hot breath in my ear as he murmurs what sinful things he would do to me.A tingling sparks in my loins. I swallow.It's not an unfamiliar, nor unpleasant sensation- I have awoken in the middle of the night a few times before, feeling an ache of... something, down there, with a strange, clear fluid leaking from the slit. But in terms of how to relieve it, I am at a loss.Shifting in my seat, the friction of my clothes sliding over the sensitized flesh between my thighs only makes it worse.I spare him another glance. He looms over me, like some dark predator. A black wolf, with fangs in his smile and eyes gleaming with feral hunger.His grasp tightens. Only a little. But it is enough to make my breath catch and my cock throb.I squeeze my legs together, and the hot pressure intensifies.Oh. Oh.It feels good, in a filthy way. I think...I think I want more of this feeling. Though I'm aware that this is hardly the place for whatever this is, when I want something, I take it. I care not whether it is the appropriate time or place.Undertaker is watching me. Intently. As if he knows what he is doing to me and what is going on in my trousers right now, and I like that I can feel his gaze burning into the back of my neck. I look at him, lips parting, and he glares back at me through his bangs, tongue curling over his teeth.I have seen people look at each other in the same way that he is looking at me- with thinly-veiled desire, but I have never seen him look at anyone like this.It makes me feel heady, powerful, to have captivated the attention of such a tall, scary grown-up that children and adults alike fear and steer clear of. He is the figurehead of nightmarish rumors- people say the black talons arming his fingers are used to pluck out the eyes of children. Others claim he cooks and eats the organs of the dead brought into his parlor.Regardless of what the people of London whisper under their breath, he is still the one everyone calls upon to do the dirty work that no one wants to sully their hands with. It doesn't matter if I wore silk or sackcloth in life. This is the man who will dig my grave and put me in the ground.No one even knows his real name.And it is that grim mystique that I find terribly alluring.As I shift again, I can feel my heartbeat in my groin, and wet warmth trickles down my shaft. A small tent has formed in my trousers, and I try to hide the bulge."Dear, do you need to use the bathroom?" I jolt when my mother speaks. "You seem uncomfortable."A splinter of agitation digs under my skin."Y- yes," I clear my throat. "If you would, please excuse me."I nearly curse when she begins to get up with me- I do not need her to follow."If you would allow me, m' Lady, I can show him where the lavatory is. No need for you both to miss the eulogy." Undertaker offers.My pulse kicks."Oh, would you be so kind?" My mother believes him to be eccentric, though harmless.But I know he is trying to get me alone."Certainly. If you would follow me, m' Lord."
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Stained glass windows cast mosaics of color upon our figures as we walk in silence to the lavatory, the tension between us tightening like a noose."I want you to make it stop." I say without looking at him. The burn between my thighs has lessened, thanks to my mother's oblivious interference. But with him walking a few paces ahead of me, robes billowing, it still maintains an insistent throb as I breathe his scent.His clothes have absorbed the scorch of incense and the crypt's pulverized marble with notes of coffin pine and wood varnish. Beneath that... night-blooming flowers, petrichor and Alpha.He smells positively mouth-watering, and despite my bravado, it makes me want... something. Something murky, intangible; more compelling than desire, and darker than possession."Make what stop, m' Lord?""Don't play coy with me," I scoff. "You touched me. Because of that, something happened, and I fully expect you to fix it.""Oh?" He lilts, and the playfulness in his voice both makes my blood boil and set moths aflutter in my stomach. "Something happened, did it?""You know damn well what you were doing."We step into the lavatory, and he whirls around, a spiral of ebony and sterling. His hands slam against the wall at either side of my head."And what if I did?" Suddenly, I find myself caged between him and the wall, our size difference emphasized by the fact that I barely come up to his chest. It makes me feel small. Delicate. And so frighteningly vulnerable.A hummingbird snared betwixt the claws of a cat.His voice drops low. Husky. "Are you going to tell your Mummy that the dreary old man that everyone is afraid of made you wet?"A thrill peels up my spine, the hot pulse in my groin inflaming."Or confess to your priest that you blushed like a maiden when he merely laid a hand on your shoulder? That you lust after a man nearly three times your age?"Lust? Is that what I am feeling?"For lust is a shameful sin, a crime that should be punished. It is a devastating fire that destroys to hell." The bible speaks of it as though it is some horrid, twisted disease that rots all that it touches.But what I feel is a sweet, fierce ache that burns between my thighs, and it is a fire I wish to stoke, an eternity in Hell be damned.His head drops to my ear. "I can smell you dripping for me."My legs nearly buckle out from under me, and a whine catches in my throat.Undertaker cups my chin between his claws. "You want me to fix it?"My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths- the potential danger of this situation is not lost on me.I am but a child, now trapped all alone with this full-grown man. He could kill me if he wanted to.But I trust that he won't.I nod. "Fix it."He smiles, predatory and sharp."Then I will need to touch you some more. Much more. And you, my Lord, are going to stay quiet."
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My fingers tangle in the mess of silver hair that spills down his back like water, and breath scrapes into my lungs in harsh pants.He is kneeling, face buried between my thighs, and one hand migrates to my chest to toy with a nipple through my waistcoat. His other cradles my lower back, binding me to him.Clapping a hand over my mouth, I try to stifle my sounds.We are not supposed to be doing this. That much, I know.Undertaker hums against my flesh, his slick tongue towing along the underside of my shaft.Why on Earth he is putting his mouth here is beyond me. But it causes the most exquisite ache in my cock, and I don't want him to stop.He told me this would fix it- however, it seems to only be getting worse as he twirls his tongue around and suckles at the cushioned tip, making me moan."Shhh, kitten," Undertaker hushes me as a little moan escapes. "Feels good, doesn't it?"I nod tightly, and bite into my lip. I like that he calls me kitten."Keep quiet. Most wouldn't approve of my unorthodox methods." He reminds me with a quiet laugh, then slides me over his tongue again.My stomach bubbles hot with magma and there is a pleasurable tension in my spine.His head moves back and forth, lips and tongue working with heavy pulls and… and nothing has ever felt better than the molten pool of his mouth."Something… something is happening," I whisper, mildly panicked by how violently my heart is thrashing in my chest."It is meant to. It won't hurt, I promise."For some reason that I cannot put my finger on, I trust him.Leaning into my toes, I rock into his mouth, chasing the sensation. "Under-Undertaker, it's-"Something is burning me up from the inside, and I feel a heat spread from my groin up to my chest and neck, catching my face aflame, and my cock strains, turning to marble."That's it, love," He murmurs between slurps, fingers lightly pinching my nipple when I knot my hand tightly into his hair. "Come for me.""Oh," I gasp between my fingers, each stroke of his tongue taking me higher. "Oh, God!"Then all of the muscles in my groin clench tight, tighter, before finally releasing in a slow, shamefully throbbing euphoria.I let out a breathless sob into my palm, trembling as a golden tide washes over me. And oh, how exquisite it is.Rapture. It is pure rapture.Undertaker's mouth floods with a liquid warmth, and then I realize it can only be coming from me- with every long, decadent spasm, there is a hot splash.Confused, I move to pull away from him, because I cannot imagine that whatever it is tastes very pleasant, but he locks his arm around my lower back to keep me in place.He wants it."Mmmm…" Undertaker swallows around my shaft, then licks up the strange milky rivulets that ooze from my slit.As the pulsing aftershocks finally ebb, my cock wilts, and quickly, just as he said it would.Undertaker's tongue sweeps over his lips and he tucks me back into my trousers."Better?"Nodding, I untangle my fingers from his hair and my legs give out. I collapse into a kneel and he catches me with a laugh.I do not know what just happened. I feel boneless. Feather-light, as if in a dream.But good. I think I like it, whatever this is.From this angle, as he looks down at me, I can see his eyes. They glow like graveyard phantoms with hues unnatural for human irises, and are as otherworldly as they are captivating.And his face... it is like that of a renaissance angel. Immaculately sculpted, pleasing in its symmetry. Even his scars do not detract from his beauty. Why he keeps it hidden as he does, I don't understand."Now be a good boy for me, and keep this a secret between us."Of course I will. Under no circumstances can I tell anyone that I committed acts of lust within a church, much less with a man.But when I see an advantage, I am only too happy to twist it in my favor."A secret for a secret?"He smiles, slow and syrupy."A trade, hmm?" He pats my head, and I internally bristle at the patronizing gesture. "Fair enough.""What is your name?"His smile fades a little." 'fraid I don't remember, love.""How do you not remember your own name?"Gently, he picks up my hand."When this happened," Undertaker runs my fingers the length of the wicked scar that is carved deeply into his face. "I forgot many things that I wish I hadn't."I do not know what to say. A silent and uncomfortable pause stretches between us."...I'm sorry.""Me too. But if you would like, when we're alone, you can call me Daddy.""Daddy, hmm?" I raise a brow.I suppose that will suffice. To be honest, my father has been absent, and I do not even remember what he looks like, nor does my mother have any photographs of him. She becomes dodgy or changes the subject when I ask about him.For all I know, Undertaker could be my father.A purr rumbles from his chest. "I like the way you say it. Give Daddy a kiss?"He dips his head down and waits for me to lean in before he presses his lips to mine. They are satiny soft, warm, and I like how they fold over my own. Heat creeps into my cheeks again, and I rest my hands on his shoulders.I have never been kissed before.Curiously, I lick at his lips, and he groans into my mouth. His tongue flicks out to curl around mine, and a raw bitterness rings over my palate. I realize it is my own taste, and something primal stirs within me. I deepen the kiss, winding my fingers into his robes and one big hand cradles the back of my head."Tempting little thing," Undertaker husks. I whimper when he snares my lower lip between his teeth and the way he gives it a gentle tug tells me I am playing with fire. "teasing your Daddy so."My Daddy. Yes, I want the mortician to belong to me, in the most selfish sense of the word.Undertaker withdraws, breathless, and his thumb rows over my cheek as he studies me. He wants more.So do I.When he rises to his feet, I reach for the sizeable bulge in his robes, but he catches my wrist."We had best get back before your mother comes looking for us." Undertaker sighs, deciding not to press our luck any further."But I want-""Touch me now, and everyone will know," He growls, then slides two of my fingers into his mouth, gently biting the knuckle with a trembling jaw. "because I'll have you screaming beneath me in an instant."An impish spark in me ignites, and I want nothing more than to push him to the brink of snapping."You wouldn't hurt me," I let out a shuddering breath. Then I decide to tug the tail of a tiger and bite my thumb, giving him the most innocent, wide-eyed expression I can muster. "would you, Daddy?"Undertaker's gaze flashes dangerously, and he takes my hand and lays it over his crotch so I feel him, and my heart skips from the small victory.He's big and hot and hard, so hard, and I am shaking with profane thrill."Oh, but I would." He hisses, and slowly moves my hand up and down over his thickness. "What I want from you indeed hurts, both cruelly and sweetly. And I don't want you to hate your Daddy just yet."
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A strange giddiness thrums through me when we return to the nave.As a beta with a weak sense of smell, my mother is none the wiser as I take my place beside her, and I can still taste the Undertaker's lips on my own. She thanks him for escorting me, and I must bite my tongue to keep myself from mirroring the grin that says he is reveling in our dirty little secret.Undertaker shovels dirt over the coffin when the funeral comes to an end, and I watch him, perhaps a little too intently.He is stronger than he lets on, and I can practically see the power flexing beneath his robes. Digging graves isn't for the weak, and the rather mundane feat of strength and stamina makes my heart beat a little faster.
Strong Alpha.
"Come Vincent. It's time to go home." My mother leads me away, and I smile at him before we leave."A good evening to you, Undertaker." I say."Have a good evening, M' Lord. M' Lady." He calls.
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I enter the Undertaker's shop just as a man passes a handful of coins to the mortician, who then assists him in carrying out a coffin.The week after the funeral drug by at a snail's pace. I couldn't stop thinking about what we did, and how... thrilling it was.The memory made my cock stir each time I revisited it, and the throbbing heat between my thighs flared to life; but without him there to relieve the sensation, I could only grit my teeth and bear it.I sought information where I always do, but after hours of digging, I could find no books in my mother's study that mentioned anything remotely comparable to it.Again, I was left in the dark, and had no choice but to seek answers from the Undertaker."Be right with you, M' Lord." He says on his way out the door, and I watch him through the dingy window.Momentarily abandoning the hunched position he favors when in public, Undertaker heaves the coffin into the back of the carriage. Then just as quickly as he shed it, he dons his elderly persona once more.The fact that he pretends to be frail when he is clearly able-bodied makes me wonder what he is hiding, and why.A few months ago, I read a book about animals, and there was one chapter I found particularly fascinating. It was about creatures that imitate other species to get close to their prey.I learned of the ant-mimicking spider, which specializes in feeding on ants. They wave a pair of legs in the air like antennae, and look so much like their chosen prey that they go unnoticed as they infiltrate a colony. The male ant-mimicking spider has mouthparts that are enlarged and elongated to resemble the head of an ant, which then splits open in a horrifying display to reveal needle-like fangs before it devours unsuspecting prey.I consider Undertaker to be like the spider, pretending to be a harmless old man when he is in reality a wolf in sheep's clothing.And here I am, willfully wandering into his waiting jaws."I don't see your mother, m' Lord." He remarks as he reenters the dreary shop.I take a breath, trying to steel my nerves.The oil lamps and candles are the only source of light in here, and they cast dancing shadows along the walls. Rather than illuminate, their jaundice yellow glow only seems to enrich the eeriness of the parlor.The lacework of spiders grace every wall and corner. Old cobwebs hang loosely in mats from the rafters, waving with a slight draft. The bookshelves are crammed with medical and anatomy texts, and glass vials full of mystery substances line the shelves of the derelict room.It is enough to shake the foundations of my fortitude."Of course not. I came here of my own accord.""Oh?" Undertaker then slides the deadbolt of the lock home, and the precise finality of the sound sends a hot, clenching ache into my groin. "And she won't come looking for you?""No. She has been summoned by the Queen, and will not return for the next two days.""And what is it that I can do for you, little Phantomhive?" Again, fangs in his smile, and I can practically see the opportunistic predator in him flexing its claws.My pulse kicks."I want to know more about… what we did.""What I did to you? That was oral sex.""No, what happened during. It- it felt so…" I struggle to find the words to describe it."Ah." He hums. "That was an orgasm, love. Sweet release. La petite mort. The little death."An orgasm? I've never heard that word before. Nor has my mother spoken of sex.He takes a seat at his desk."Did it happen to you too? When we did it, I mean?""No, but that is alright. We didn't have time to play for very long.""We have time today." The words spill out a little too eagerly."Do we, now?" His purr is black velvet, and he drums his claws on the wood. "And what is it that you want from me, today?""I want more.""Mmm. More, eh?" Curling his tongue over a canine, he rests his face on his palm. "You want me to finger your pretty little hole? Or fuck you till you scream?"I only understood his first suggestion, but his lewd bluntness makes me draw a sharp gasp just the same."What… what does 'fuck' mean?"He laughs, low and dark. "Ah. Your mother really hasn't given you the talk, then, has she?"
Talk…?
"What talk?""Apparently not." He sighs as he removes his hat to rake a hand through his bangs, revealing his layered double irises of chartreuse green and molten gold. Were it not for those otherworldly eyes, I would think him human."Well, that just won't do. A boy your age needs to know these things.""Come," Undertaker slowly reclines back, adopting a pose which looks like a summons. "sit on Daddy's lap,"His gaze simmers as he speaks slowly, giving each word its due.My face burns at the request, especially when he pats his knee in invitation. "And he'll teach you everything you need to know."Knees trembling, I edge my way to his side, and twitch when he slides his hand over my waist and settles me over the warm bench of his thigh. He gently rubs my hip with his thumb. It is methodical, a desensitization, perhaps. Like how he might try to calm a panicked horse.I swallow a little- even sitting down, he threatens to loom over me. And his scent... it's powerful, and envelops my mind in a feverish haze."There. This isn't so bad, is it?" Undertaker coaxes with a smirk.Despite being anxious, scared, even, now that I am behind locked doors with a man that cuts people open for a living, I again feel that strange, throbbing heat unfurling from between my legs.But I am not without my own leverage."No, Daddy."His chest expands with a sharp inhale.It amazes me how much power that single word holds over him. He moves his hand from just above my waist up to my rib cage.Undertaker isn't hurting me- far from it, in fact. His hand offers only gentle support. But my face tingles as the flush of my cheeks spreads to my neck, and my heart feels as if it is going to pound out of its cage."Here," He picks up a cup of tea, still warm and passes it to me. "Have a few sips. It'll calm your nerves."Tipping the porcelain to my lips, I taste honey and hibiscus but my tongue then recoils from a bitter aftertaste. "What is it?""Poppy seed tea. Helps with aches from a hard day's work and keeps this old man spry.""Hmm." While I am unfamiliar with medicinal teas, I have a few sips to be polite, and Undertaker looks down his nose, staring with carnivorous interest. I tense as he reaches for me, but he only cups my cheek and slowly, purposefully slides a thumb down over my mouth, dragging my lower lip with it."So you want more, do you?""Yes." Shyly, I bite my lip.He takes the cup from me, then buries his nose in my hair, not-so-subtly breathing me in. Undertaker works his hand up under my shirt, palm smoothing over my stomach, then my chest."Ah! "I gasp as his thumb rolls over my nipple, and without the shield of my clothes, it is so much more intense, sending darts of pleasure between my thighs."Mmm..." He purrs as he kisses along my neck, claws scraping lightly yet threateningly over my skin, making me shiver. He unbuttons my waistcoat, then my shirt, eyes raking over me. "Beautiful boy."Undertaker cups my jaw and kisses me, heated and fierce, then licks into my mouth. When we part, I'm flushed and panting."So, tell me, kitten… where do you want your Daddy most?""I... I don't-" I can't really say, because I still don't fully understand what is happening to me. "I don't know, I just need-"
Touch me. Hurt me. Make me feel.
"Well, then, let's see," Undertaker muses, one hand tweaking my nipple, and I whimper. "Here?"Biting my lip, I whimper with a nod.His other wanders low, then cups the bulge between my thighs. "And here?"I let out a strangled sound, the throb in my cock mounting to something nearly painful."Yesss," I hiss through my teeth as he massages me. "Right there!"In an instant I'm hauled up out of his lap and the wind is crushed from my lungs as he hurls me onto his desk, sending his chair toppling and the teacup crashing to the floor.I cough and gasp, meeting his feral gaze as he rips my trousers down over my hips, peeling them off my legs and then yanks my knees apart. "What in th-"Undertaker lets out a growling chuckle before he licks up the length of my shaft, flooding the sensitive area with scathing breath and cutting my protest into a staggered gasp. A fresh wave of goosebumps breaks out over my skin as his hair tickles over my thighs.All panic ceases to matter as he takes me into his mouth, sucking and slurping with all the ravenous hunger of a man starved.My cry borders on a scream and he purrs in response, then slips his tongue lower to pierce my opening. The wet slither of the unexpected intrusion makes me bolt upright, but his hand flies to my throat and he shoves me back down, eyes flashing in a glare of venomous green.Cold fear trickles over my scalp and my pulse throbs wildly against his palm. The cage of his fingers is tight, but not lethal. A warning- merely a glimpse of the violence he is capable of. But the message is clear:
Don't you dare fight me.
I came to him. I asked for this.When I fall limp with submission, Undertaker's fingers uncurl from my throat and he delves his tongue back in.My scandalized moans fill the room, along with the wet sounds of his mouth eating at me. He runs his clawed fingers along the curve of my ass, kneading the plump flesh in his palms."Why- why would you…?" I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear looking as he does this. It's beyond filthy, what he is doing- and yet it feels so good as he sinks his tongue into my clenching heat."Because this is where you are going to take me, love."Whining into the velvety darkness behind my eyes, Undertaker's talons hold me in place as his mouth sculpts my desire into a masterpiece of shameful ecstasy. He moves back up to lave at my balls before slipping down to pierce me again.Then a euphoric, golden glow slowly bleeds through my limbs, cementing my body to the desk."Undertaker," All at once it is simultaneously too much and not enough, and I can feel every cell of my body crying out for more of the sinful thing he is doing. "Daddy..."He nips and sucks at the creamy flesh of my thighs, leaving bruises in his wake.Then he pulls away to unfasten his trousers, freeing his cock; it juts out from the black fold of his pants, flushed dark and heavy. The breath stutters from my lungs at his size- he is so much bigger than I.Undertaker pushes my knees up to my chest, grabs my thighs and mashes them together, then slides his shaft between them. I gasp- it's so hot and hard as it glides slippery-wet over my own.Then he surges forward, pushing in and out of the slick flesh.He moans, low and rich, and it goes straight to my groin as I focus on his dripping cock and the sweet friction he delivers."Good boy, stay just like that.""More..." I seethe. While I am not certain what exactly he is doing, my body is purring for more of it. "More!""Oh, I'll give you more," He forebodes. He reaches down, and I tense and wince as his middle finger works its way into my slickened entrance.Undertaker strokes my inner walls, and it stings a bit- his nails are too long."Mmmh, kitten. This is going to take some work," He remarks as he pumps, curling his finger up into my heat, and I arch, choking out a gasp when he grazes something that makes me want to thrash. "You're so tight."I clutch his shoulders, and my painfully hard cock jerks with every flex of his finger."Ahh… there it is." He chuckles, then withdraws his digit.As he gathers my wrists in one hand and leans forward to pin me with his weight, I realize he is trying to restrain me for whatever comes next. When I feel the fat head of his cock pressing against my hole, I understand why."Nnnn… wait, that's too big," I complain weakly, my tongue feeling a bit numb."Shhh." He hushes me."N-" Undertaker kisses me, silencing my protests. My head swims, and I suddenly feel as though I'm sinking into the desk as though it were made of a cloud, whipped and airy, rather than cold, unforgiving wood."Vincent," He breathes hoarsely against my lips, dipping in a little bit deeper, submerging almost to the rim of his head.It's uncomfortable, and I feel as though it should hurt more, but a pleasant numbness is buzzing through my body, and that's when I recall that he said the tea helps with aches, and therefore must be some sort of opioid.I'm admittedly unnerved that he drugged me. Though whether it was done out of kindness or convenience, I am not certain."Breathe with me," he commands, then welds our mouths together.I inhale through my nose, and as soon as the exhale passes from my lips to his, Undertaker slowly pushes in. I feel his mouth go slack against mine as he hovers over me. I quiver in shock, fingers hooking into his back."Nnngg! It- it hurts…"Then he groans, thunderous and dark. It rumbles from his chest into mine. Every muscle in my body tenses in effort to force out the intrusion, but he is firmly lodged in place."Relax. Don't fight it, or it'll only hurt more." He murmurs as sinks in further, inch by agonizing inch. I am like a bug impaled on a pin, writhing, unable to reconcile the sensation of being skewered."Do you know why they call it the 'little death?' " He asks, rocking forward, burying himself halfway.With a snarl of pain, I gnash my teeth. The stretch is brutal."Because it indeed hurts, but after the ache," I bite down on my lower lip until the copper of blood rings over my tongue. Undertaker hooks one hand under my knee to lift my leg, and with the other he wraps my calf around his waist.Then he pulls me forward onto his cock, grinding in deeper.I cringe as his clawed thumb brushes my hair from my brow, as gentle as the tip of his tongue snaking out to catch the tear that spills from the corner of my eye.Undertaker looks down at me, nearly bent double beneath him- at the pink flesh stretched wide around his girth, his chest swelling with a long, breath of cruel satisfaction."...Comes sweet ascension." He whispers, angling his hips, and white-hot ecstasy arcs through me as he strikes something deep within, ripping a gasp from my lungs."Hold on to me," He growls, grip bruising as he draws every inch of himself out to watch the ridge of his head emerge… then his hips snap forward.Spine arching, I cry out as he slides all the way out before reclaiming me with a punishing slap."You're mine, Vincent," He hisses, his visage painted in flickering gold and shadow. "Mine."And then he becomes a storm, all black and gray fury as he crashes into me at a savage pace. I can do nothing but anchor my hands to his shoulders and hold on as he spears me over and over.It is agony. Exquisite agony that burns like molten iron. The tea, however, is quick to work its magic- relaxation weaves through my limbs, and the pain dulls into a distant ache.I bury my face in his neck, and his pheromones overtake my every sense until there is only him and the way he fills me, so hot and hard and heavy. I keen, arching my body up to meet his as he mercilessly splits me in two."Good boy," He coaxes. "Give in to the pleasure, let it take you."His teeth find my throat and he bites, sucks, bruises, making goosebumps break out all over me.I then watch him lick his palm, and he slips his hand between us to wrap it around my cock, his thumb rolling around the weeping slit.
Oh, god…
He thrusts in time with his jerks, and the furious ache in my neglected member roars to life. It's… it's like last time, but what roils hot beneath the surface now feels so much more powerful, so much more intense."Undertaker!" I choke out, and he grins madly."Oh, yes," He hisses, "You're going to scream for this one."An infernal heat creeps up my face, my skin more sensitized than it has ever been as fanged ecstasy screams from my every pore."Un- Undertaker," I gasp, and can barely breathe, "Oh, God, I'm-"He pounds in harder, and the desk scrapes across the floor with the force of his movements. God, it's coming- so bright and pulsing and hot.Undertaker's breath blankets my face, and his other hand slides behind my nape to raise my head up."Daddy…" Our foreheads touch, and his eyes of neon fire burn into mine."Come," He says, hips curling up at an angle to strike that place deep within.Hands raking down his biceps, my spine bows off the desk and my entire body goes rigid.Lava pumps through my veins, rich and thick, and then my jaw drops open. I erupt in creamy jets over his hand, all the while my passage sucks his cock in lush little pulses.Undertaker observes every moment of my unraveling, then lifts my thighs, holding me open for the deepest possible plunge. He crashes into me once, twice, then lets out a snarl.His cock heaves, followed by a molten tide lapping into me as he pumps me full."Vincent," He groans, each thrust displacing a milky surge, and he watches, eyes heavy with satisfaction as his seed overflows from my brutalized hole. "Gods…"Undertaker folds over, cups my face with both hands before kissing me deep. "You were so good," His tongue tangles with mine. "So good for me."I thread my fingers through his hair and suck on his tongue, and he moans into my mouth. Come still pulses from him in halfhearted spurts.Purple and red bruises have bloomed upon my wrists and thighs, and I don't doubt my throat is also sporting teeth marks as well.I ache terribly all over.But I have never felt more alive.After a few moments, Undertaker reluctantly withdraws and I wince in pain.Lying limp, I'm worn soft and pliant with exhaustion, and his release seeps out of me in warm trails down my thighs."Was that… was that being fucked?""That," Undertaker tucks himself back into his trousers before opening a drawer to his desk to pull out a cigarette. He lights it with candle fire. "was what it is to be fucked good and proper." He chuckles, then takes a drag."Give me that." I hold my hand out, but he doesn't offer it."You're years too young for it.""Yet old enough to take your cock in my ass, apparently."Undertaker lets out a snort, then passes it to me. "Fair enough."
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Why did you think I would hate you?""Hmm?" Undertaker hums, stroking my hair. I lie on top of him as we rest within a silk-lined coffin, my ear over his heart.He doesn't believe it is safe for me to return home just yet, as the drug is still coursing through my veins, making me sluggish and sleepy."In the church," I remind him. "You said you don't want me to hate my Daddy just yet.""Ah. I suppose I made a premature assumption." He says, fingers wandering to feather-lightly trace the jaundice yellow and storm grey bruises blotting my hips. "So, you don't hate me for these?"Undertaker's hand glides up to my chest, ghosting over the ladder of my ribs, black talons following the rise and dip of each with lazy interest. I wonder if he is imagining what they look like if he were to peel back the skin, revealing the red muscle and pearly ivory beneath. His fingers strum over each bone as though they are the strings of a harp."No, it…" I lick my lips, grasping for the right words. "It was a good sort of hurt. Necessary, like the letting of tainted blood.""And how do you feel now, with your blood cleansed?"Violated. Purified. Corrupted. Absolved.Perfected with sin. Made whole, by being broken.Like a kintsugi vase, purposefully shattered, then lovingly repaired piece by piece with molten gold.Like a snake that has finally shed an old skin, my scales iridescent. Gleaming. New.Like clay stripped from a vein of earth, bruisingly molded within his hands before being given shape and sculpted into something awe-inspired."Reborn."Undertaker huffs a laugh, but not one of amusement. No, this one sounds surprised. Gratified, even. "You continue to astound me, little Phantomhive." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I don't want to go home.But if I do not return before nightfall, a servant will phone my mother, and then will be sent to London to find me.Undertaker helps me redress and even carefully dabs a bit of makeup over the bite mark he left on my throat. "I shouldn't have to tell you what will happen if someone sees these.""No. I have my ways of keeping people quiet," I insinuate, and he smiles. "Any accusations made I shall fiercely deny. Our secret is one that I intend to take to my grave.""Good boy," He purrs. "Now give your Daddy a kiss before you go."
My Daddy. Yes. Mine.
He bends at the waist and I knot my hands into Undertaker's robes as he kisses me, hard- he licks into my mouth, hot and possessive, tongue stroking over mine."Mmm. Honestly, kitten… I could devour you."I whine into his lips, and my knees weaken beneath me as I settle into his grasp, and drink in his scent, dark and rich.A hand slips around the curve of my ass to squeeze the plump flesh, the bite of his nails giving me a thrill. "Don't worry, love. I will visit you soon enough.""Promise?""I promise. I'd be lucky to survive a day without the taste of you." He says. "Tempting little thing."He seals it with another kiss, sharp and sweet like the edge of a knife. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ When I return to the manor, I ask that a hot bath be prepared. And rather than being bathed as usual, I ask that I do so myself."I am old enough to do this much on my own." I insist. "It won't be deducted from your wages, I assure you."The servant is quick to school her features, though not before I catch a fleeting glimpse of surprise- I can only hope it is due to my remark and not from the hoarseness of my voice or patch of slight discoloration on my throat. But I do not allow my expression nor my stride to falter. Not until I am behind closed doors.By now, the tea's numbing effects have worn thin, and I am sore all over. A burning ache pulses in my ass. I don't believe I will be able to sit comfortably for at least three days, and my throat is raw from the cigarette.When I strip down, I look in the mirror to find that the marks have ripened, their blush darkening. His fingers and mouth have branded me all over in rosettes of purple and mauve.
A canvas.
I am his canvas, a masterpiece of his design. His cruel grasp bruised beauty into my flesh, reflecting his hunger, his dark desire to make me his.I want them to stay, and never fade.With a groan, I sink into the hot water and allow the tension in my muscles to melt away.A knock on the door. "M'Lord? Are you quite alright?"I jolt with a start and for a moment, my head feels doughy and thick. It then dawns on me that I must have dozed off. The water is now almost chilly enough to make me shiver."Y- yes, I am fine!" I call. "I will be out momentarily."When I am finished, I dry off and dress myself. That much I can manage on my own.The servant is waiting for me when I step out."If it isn't too bold to ask, M'Lord, would you like for me to provide you with the Presenting Box?""The… the what?"I haven't the foggiest idea of what she is referring to."Forgive me, M'Lord. I'm a beta, and my sense of smell isn't sharp, so I can only guess when the time is right," She blushes. "It's a box of… tools that your mother instructed me to give you if she were absent and you were showing signs of being the proper age."The proper… ah.My curiosity is piqued. I can only imagine what sort of tools it would contain."Then yes. Yes, I would like the Presenting Box.""Very good, sir. I'll have it sent up to your room. This came for you as well." She passes me an urgent telegram.It is from my mother, and says she will be gone for a week, perhaps even two.My heart leaps in my chest. As long as she is away, I have free reign of the manor and can do as I please.Including having trustworthy guests. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I've only just finished lighting the nightly candles when there is a heavy pounding at the door of my shop."Undertaker!" Butcher's gravelly voice calls.I swipe a bottle of sterilizing agent off of the shelf and dab some onto a rag before using it to polish my surgical tools. The scent of antiseptic flushes my senses with a harsh alcoholic sting, making my heart race with the exhilaration that I have come to associate with examining the insides of a living creature; to watch the heart pump blood through a map of arteries, the inflation of pink lungs through the parietal peritoneum's translucent membrane, and being able to feel the spark of animation, of life pulsing beneath my hands- and knowing how easily I can ensure its preservation or snuff it out- is a thrill like no other.Here, in this room, I am no less than a God.I open the door. "And who is our patient today?""Mabel's beaten up pretty badly. Doubt she'll make it. Damn Johns are too rough when they're drunk." The burly man says, cradling an unconscious woman in his arms.Her face is severely bruised and swollen, and she is wheezing as she struggles to breathe. My first thought is a punctured lung.Butcher brings me prostitutes that have been injured or need the care that a traditional doctor will often refuse, and should one of the patients not survive, they are more often than not mine to do with as I please."She's having trouble breathing." He says, "S'more than just too tight a corset.""Cut it off," I instruct him as he deposits her trembling form upon the table with utmost care. She is going into shock. "She needs immediate examination and emergency surgery if she's to survive."Butcher slips a blade between the cloth and her skin, then saws it down the middle.Exploratory surgery will be necessary to locate any internal bleeding or punctured organs so repairs can be made. I pour a bit of ether onto a rag and hold it over her nose and mouth until she falls completely limp.In close proximity to the lower humerus is a massive bruise which draws my gaze. My watercolor vision paints it olive at the margins, a gruesome shade of purple in the inner layers, and black at the center. A touch examination shows the surrounding tissues are tight and swollen."Break of the lower humerus." I note aloud, but as I rake my gaze over the trunk of her battered form, I find more dire issues.She is terribly frail and thin- borderline emaciated, in fact; she appears to have been permitted only slightly more nutrition than what is necessary to prevent organ failure. This is typical for the seedier brothels- keep the girls hungry and addicted to a drug, and they will be less likely to attempt escape or fight the clients out of favor of food and a fix.It's unlikely she'll have the strength to pull through, even if I do fix her up.My fingers come to rest low on the subject's abdomen, just above the navel, where there is a slight, barely-detectable swell. I press gently; it's soft, with little to no resistance. The flesh springs back in place, remaining distended, which tells me she is not pregnant, but bleeding internally."Scalpel." I call for, and Butcher passes me the tool.With steady, clinical hands, I make an incision just below the sternum and draw my blade downwards with calculated pressure. The instrument part the skin of her abdomen as easily as a hot knife through butter. Dark blood blooms outward like an ink blot spreading across peachy parchment.It makes my mouth water- that bittersweet aroma with metallic notes that ring over the tongue, like the darkest of chocolate.Omegan blood. 'Twould be a shame to lose her."Retractor, please."Taking it from his hands, I carefully feel where I need to hook it into place. The tool spreads the subject's flesh wide, holding her open so that I may fully examine the extent of damage.It is immediately apparent that she is bleeding internally, due to one of her ribs being pulverized and a sharp fragment having nicked the right inferior phrenic artery.I call for a pair of forceps. Butcher hands them to me and watches with rapt fascination as I reach in and follow the leaking artery with my fingers to pinch down where she was bleeding out from. After clamping it, I pass a length of catgut around the vessel and stop blood spritzing from the rupture. Next, I clip the torn area and with acute precision, micro-stitch it with surgical thread. When I've worked the last length of suture in, I remove the clamp.Even in the gauzy light, I can make out the pearly whiteness of her rib cage and breaks within the ivory arcs.I tweeze out shards of broken bone and drop them into a steel pan. It is easy to determine which piece was responsible for severing her artery, as it is all sharp edges, like a knife.Once her bleeding is under control, I draw out the blood which pooled in excess just behind her lungs with a pipette to prevent haemothorax and stitch her back up."Will she survive?""It is too soon to tell, though her chances are slim. I recommend keeping her here overnight. If it seems she'll pull through, I will let you know.""Good enough for me. If she dies, she's yours.""No family?""No family." He confirms. "See you soon."And I know he will. Butcher comes to me at least once a week with some poor broken creature needing repairs. Many die, and not always by my own hand- which gives me a multitude of specimens to experiment upon.But Omegas are rarely brought in. Which means I now have a new toy to play with."Well then, my dear," Summoning my death scythe, I give my beloved weapon a twirl. "Shall we have some fun?" ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When I return to my room, there is a black hat box is waiting for me on my bed.I open it, and inside I find a vial of oil, a carved jade phallus with a strange swell at the base, and a well-worn book titled 'A Comprehensive Study Of Alphas and Omegas'.Though I am not sure what I expected from 'The Presenting Box', it wasn't this. But perhaps this book will provide me with some answers.I breathe in the scent of biblichor as I flip through the weathered, yellow pages and pause on the chapter about pheromones.
Pheromones
Alphas and Omegas significantly produce and instinctively react to pheromones. Alphas tend to find Omegan scents attractive, and vice versa.
Alphas are also intensely attracted to the pheromones Omegas produce while aroused or in estrus, and competition for the privilege to mate can sometimes become violent. Furthermore, if there is extensive contact with an Omega in estrus proper, Alphas in the vicinity will go into rut, which increases their mating drive for the duration of contact with the Omega and generally several hours or even days after contact ceases. Omegas in estrus proper will have an overwhelming craving for Alpha pheromones and to be bred.
Some Alphas smell more appealing than others to certain Omegas, and vice-versa. The more pleasing the scent, the more compatible they are with one another. When an Alpha smells an Omega it desires, it will grow possessive of the Omega, and will stop at nothing to claim it. When an Omega smells an Alpha it desires, it will have the urge to rub itself all over the Alpha's clothes, sheets, blankets, etc. to cover itself in the Alpha's scent, in effort of pleasing it.
Is that why Undertaker smells so mouthwatering to me? Because we are compatible?Does this mean I will present as an Omega? My mother says I am supposed to be an Alpha, like my father was.In fact, that is the only thing she has told me about him.But I want to be what Undertaker will be powerless to resist. I want him to become wild and frothing at the mouth with possessiveness, all for me.I read on, and as I skim the chapter about Alphas, a particular piece of information catches my eye.
The bulbus glandis (commonly referred to as a knot) is an erectile tissue structure at the base of the penis. During mating, immediately before ejaculation the tissues swell to lock the male's penis inside of the mate. The locking, or tie, is completed when the circular muscles just inside the mate's passage tightens, thus preventing the male from withdrawing. The circular muscles also contract intermittently, which has the effect of stimulating ejaculation, as well as maintaining the swelling of the penis and therefore the tie, for some time. The tie may last up to half an hour, though fifteen to twenty minutes is more common. During this time the male will continuously ejaculate. Once finished, the knot will reduce in size until withdrawal is possible.
Ah. That must be what that odd swell at the base of the carved phallus represents.Fascinating.I pick up the phallus. It's smooth, cool to the touch, with a thick bulb on either side of the base.To feel Undertaker's cock thicken at the base like this… it wouldn't be cold stone, but throbbing flesh.And when he would come inside me, spurt after spurt of molten seed…The breath shudders out of me, my insides shivering hot. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ With my guest sedated for the time being, I lie in the coffin Vincent and I rested in.I've closed myself off in it, because it smells of him, of April- violet and blue blossoms, the mineral scent of spring showers and brimming sunshine. Floral. Sweet, with an underlying note of the tang of sex. Gasping, heated desire, sweat-slicked flesh, saliva and come.I stroke the rigid column straining through my robes, slow. Tortuous.My blood thrums as I breathe in those pheromones so sweet and pure, no better than a bankrupt opium addict desperately huffing den smoke.Bloody Hell, the boy's ruin is enough to get drunk off of.I knew as soon as I dared to bridge the distance between us and put my hands on my son, that I didn't stand a chance.And when I pushed past the tight furl of him, melted into that perfect, clenching, wet heat, I knew that I'd never be able to say no to him. That I was lost.He is both temptation and salvation; black opium laced with sweet ichor, and now that I've drank of his oasis, I am bound to him, and shall never settle for less.I fuck into my fist, a pale comparison of the burning squeeze of Vincent's tight little body.Only he can quench my thirst. Only him.Twisting my head to the side, I scrape my tongue over the coffin's silk.
Omega.
Vincent shall be an Omega when he presents. Of that, I am certain.And when he enters his first heat, when he is flushed and soaked and pleading for my knot, I will be there to give it to him. To make him mine.Rolling my thumb over the slick head, I tease it in a mimicry of a flickering tongue.I should teach him how to suck his Daddy's cock tomorrow. What a lovely vision he would be on his knees...
Teary-eyed and huffing desperately through his nose, glistening wet mouth stretched over a girth too big for him to handle, but handle it he will, because he must. Because Daddy said so, and he's a good boy.
Mm. Precome drips hot over my knuckles. If I am not careful, I will fall into Rut simply by thinking about it.A clang from down below. The shift of steel manacles. It seems my guest in the cellar needs tending to.I let out a sigh. As much as I'd like to finish now, it will be far more satisfying to spill into my boy's mouth later and feel his throat work as he gulps it down. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ It's dark, and reeks of decay, chemicals, and damp stone. The air carries a bitter chill, and my skin tightens with gooseflesh.Petrichor. Incense. Musk and sex. The scent of an approaching Alpha drowns out all else, making a swell of panic rise in my chest.I can't see. Why can't I see?When I try to move, pain roars through my entire body and I find that I'm completely immobilized. My wrists and ankles have been bound.Then I recall the drunkard john that beat me within an inch of my life. How his breath stank of cheap booze and cigarettes and the ruthless club of his fists crashing into me. The sickening snap of my bones breaking. Butcher's snarl as he finally pulled him off of me and kicked the shit out of him.
Bastard.
"Shhhh, dearie. Don't struggle." Gentle hands touch my face and I freeze. A blindfold is removed and as my eyes adjust to dim candlelight, I meet a gaze like absinthe and fire. The Alpha's face and neck are slashed with brutal scars and his hair spills in iron tresses down his back."Where am I?" I ask, my voice hoarse. "Where is Butcher?"From the looks of things, he has me hidden away in a cellar. Sconces on the wall paint him in dancing firelight."You needed a bit of fixing up, so Butcher left you in my care." He says.Even if I believed him, there's no reason for my restraint, so I tug against my bonds."Ah, ah, ah- I wouldn't do that if I were you," He chides, and his eyes crawl down my abdomen. "You may rupture your sutures."A downward glance reveals that not only am I naked and shackled to an operating table, but there is a wound, laddered with stitches running down my center from where he must have cut me open."Bloody Hell!" My heart plummets and my breath comes in rapid pants, making me cough."Hush, now. Don't try to talk.""What in blazes did you do to me?!" I choke out. "Why am I tied down?""You were bleeding internally, so I had to open you up and make a few repairs. Would have been a bloody disaster if you woke in the middle of the procedure. One slip of the blade…." He doesn't finish. Doesn't have to.The man does not look like any doctor I've ever seen. In fact, the black flowing robes would suggest he's a pastor or possibly in mourning.He turns away from me to tinker with the tools on his steel tray, and I watch as he draws a mysterious liquid from a small glass vial into a syringe. The rapid flow of the substance floods into the barrel to swirl in a shimmering whirlpool of amethyst, and then he halts the draw and allows it to settle. His brow knits as he gauges the dosage. A clawed thumb pushes the plunger with calculated pressure, and I see a spritz burst from the bevel of the needle."So you're a doctor?""A surgeon." He corrects. "But most know me better as London's Undertaker."That explains why his movements are flawless and precise- it unnerves me to wonder how many times he must have done this to develop such meticulous muscle memory. Then he reaches for the dark cloth on the edge of the tray."I think you'll prefer to be blind for this part. It's just a little shot for the pain, but the needle is rather large. Then I'll send you on your way to Butcher with orders of bed rest."A shiver wracks my body, from both fear and the icy chill in the air.Considering that I am entirely at his mercy, I can only hope he is telling the truth.The man places the syringe in his teeth and carefully threads his fingers through the thick mane of hair at the back of my scalp, tilting my head forward so he can wrap the blindfold around my face. I let him, because I hate needles and would rather not watch it slip under my skin.I feel his fingers splay over the surface of my arm to tighten it, just before he aims for my vein. The instrument's snakebite makes my face go numb. My veins catch fire as the drug spills into my bloodstream, and I hiss through my teeth.It burns like Hell.The needle slides out, and his thumb presses over the wound, applying pressure until he is sure none of the drug will leak out.The moments stretch on endlessly, trickling by at a snail's pace. My tongue flicks out to run along the tender, cracked flesh of my lower lip.I desperately want water. Swallowing thickly, my esophagus sticks to itself. I choke, cough."C-can I please have some water, sir?" My voice scrapes out in a gravelly rasp. Every swallow is like crushed glass down my throat and my eyes water with the effort."In just one moment." The man says. "We need to let the drug take effect, and then you'll be feeling right as rain."While he shuffles around and clinks the bottles of liquids, my mind skips and wanders; I wonder if it is light or dark outside, and how long I have been here. The sudden press of his hand and sting of long, black nails on my throat causes me to flinch, but then I still when I realize he isn't hurting me, but taking my pulse."Heart rate is 113 beats per minute. Slightly elevated due to both the drug and stress," He notes.I don't want to think about why it is raising my heart rate. I don't have much medical knowledge, but I doubt that a high heart rate is a good side-effect.'Will I survive?' I try to ask, but then realize my tongue is numb, so my jaw only drops open with an incoherent mumble."Still slower than patient 207's, though."Something… something isn't right.I try to tell him something is wrong, but the syllables fall from my lips like wet sand, formless and unable to bind together.Suddenly, my sense of gravity twists, and it feels as though the room is tilting on its axis. My stomach lurches.Something is terribly wrong."The concoction seems to be having the desired effect, but not quickly enough for my liking. Next time I will increase the dosage and hope it yields more promising results." He says, and I hear a quill pen rapidly scratching over the surface of parchment.
What the Hell did he give me?!
The sound of steel on steel. A metallic sschk, sschk, sschk, sschk and my heart is a bird thrashing within the pearly cage of my ribs, desperate to escape.He is sharpening a blade."I really am sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid your designation presents an opportunity for research that I simply cannot pass up. You won't feel a thing, I promise."
No.
It can't end like this. It can't.There will be no valiant struggle, no fight till the bitter end. Hell, I can't even plead for my life, much less kick the prick in the balls as one last act of defiance.This is it. This is how I die.My scream is a pathetic gurgling sound clogging my throat. The frantic attempt to yank at my binds reveals that my limbs are filled with cement. Dead weight. Useless.Clawing within the confines of my skin, I am a prisoner in my own body.
No… please, God, no…
My eyeballs shake with the thunder of my pulse."Now… let's have a look at that brain of yours, shall we?"
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Leave us. Enter only if I call for you." I tell the servants. They obediently bow their heads and see themselves out."Quite brave of you to have guests over when your mother isn't about." Undertaker remarks.I sent a footman to his parlor to deliver a note, inviting the mortician to join me for dinner the following evening.He agreed that we should make the most of our time together, because once my mother returns, we will have to slip our masks of friendly indifference on once more.I also bought the silence of our servants by matching their monthly wages, and even gave them half in advance, which is but a fraction of mere pocket change to me. They are not to speak of anything they may see or hear."Brave?" I scoff. "You say that as though I will earn a scolding for it. I am allowed to have company when she isn't around.""Children your own age are one thing. What I mean, is that most fourteen year-old boys do not invite grown men over to play.""Most fourteen year-old boys are not like me."At that, he hums. "You are right about that, m' Lord. I cannot recall the last time anyone invited me to dinner.""Perhaps you should try dropping the dreary old man act. I'm sure that would result in more invitations."Undertaker barks a laugh. "Perhaps it would."I take a sip of my tea. "Do you not get lonely in your profession?""The company of the dead is all I have ever needed. Though it wasn't until I met you, little Phantomhive, that I realized my life was lacking a bit of shine.""Hm. I suppose you have managed to bring a bit of… entertainment to mine, as well.""Entertainment?!" He cackles hoarsely, palm slapping his thigh. "I suppose getting sucked off during a funeral in church could indeed be called that!"I cannot help but smile as well. "Though I suppose I am damned to eternal Hellfire after committing such blasphemy.""Ah, you are but a victim in this, m' Lord. A lamb led astray by a wolf." He says, swirling his glass of wine. "He shan't smite you for your innocence, nor ignorance. 'Tis I who shall burn.""Innocence?" I raise a brow, doubting that he will shoulder the burden entirely."Indeed." He smiles. "In your defense, you are too young to be guilty of true lust; you didn't even know what 'fuck' meant.""For your information," My tone sours a bit. "I have recently done a bit of research on sex. Alphas and Omegas, and the breeding habits therein.""Oh?" He rests his face on his palm. "Have you, now? Then tell me, boy," As he reiterates our age difference, the need to prove myself splinters under my skin. It festers with the cavalier curve of his lips and eyes lidded with the satisfaction of knowing he has years of experience on me."What do you know about giving head?"My confidence turns to ash in my mouth, because I don't even know what that means.
Shit.
The book my mother gave me was from a purely educational and scientific standpoint.But I will not let him patronize me. Not when I can still twist the blame to point in his direction. "Hm. I suppose you didn't teach me everything I needed to know, then.""Pardon?""When we were in your shop yesterday. You said you would teach me everything I needed to know. But not once did you mention 'giving head'.""Ah," His laugh is low, appreciative- as though he admires my manipulation tactics. "I suppose you're right about that. Why don't we correct that, then?""Now?""Right now. Come, sit with me."My heart begins to race now that he has abandoned formalities.I push out my chair and then take my place on his lap.The claw of his thumb tenderly traces the plump curve of my lower lip. Undertaker's gaze sears into mine, fire-bright with hunger. Slowly, he presses into my mouth, and I open for him, allowing his thumb to slide in over my tongue."Suck."My eyes shutter as my lips seal around his digit, surrendering to his command. I flick my tongue over the pad of the thumb, closing my lips around it to suckle gently.Hearing his sharp inhale, I cast my eyes up to see his lip curl. He is utterly hypnotized."Good, that's very good. You suck it just like that," He breathes, "Be careful not to use your teeth. And when I come down your throat,"My heart thuds. He wants me to do what he did for me. He wants me to suck his cock.His digit glides further back, nail scraping over the back of my tongue. I try not to gag from the sharp edges of it."You swallow for Daddy, like a good boy. Now, get on your knees for me."I obey, sliding off of his thigh and sinking into a kneel on the Persian rug.Undertaker's hands slip between his robes to unfasten his trousers- and when they reappear he is gripping his thick shaft.He is already hard. Ready. Waiting. Meanwhile, I struggle to maintain my air of bravado when in reality I am floundering and gasping in the deep end.I haven't the foggiest idea what I am doing, and the weight of all that I don't know settles as a block of ice in my gut."Still feeling brave?" He teases, noticing my moment's hesitation.I watch with eyes glassy as he slowly strokes himself. It's tantalizing, the way the foreskin slides back to reveal the gleaming head."Open for me, love," he whispers, guiding the tip to my mouth.As usual, my ego outweighs my apprehension, and so I reach for it with trembling fingers to smooth them down the dipping curve of his length. It is hot to the touch, and pulses as I curl my hand around its thickness.Slowly, I swipe my tongue over the slit as he stares down at me. It smolders with heat and is plush, tender under my lips. And tastes salty-sweet, like butter.It sparks my curiosity.My tongue traces the contours of his head, and he gasps when I finally latch my mouth over the cap of it, giving it a light suck. "Mhmm." He purrs, and those ebony claws thread through my hair, petting me softly in encouragement. "How lovely you are with those angelic lips around me."My own member aches, hot and throbbing between my thighs. How deliciously dirty it feels to be used like this.To serve, instead of being served.I explore, teasing the valley between his glans and suckling along the rosy, rounded ridges.While I am perfectly content to learn his every curve and ridge at my leisure, Undertaker grows impatient with my teasing."Deeper, love." He says, and his hand slips behind my nape, carefully guiding my depth, compelling me to take him further.I bob gently, submerging a little more than half the length. "Uhnn. That's it. Fuck your pretty face on it."My blood ignites at the filthy comment, and in this moment, I want nothing more than to please him.With slow, deep pulls of my lips, I work at his shaft, huffing through my nose.Then he begins to roll his hips up into my throat in shallow dips.The wet sounds of him fucking my mouth, pumping in and out with smooth strokes… Undertaker's soft growls of delight... It all whips my lust into a lather, making my cock drip with envy.He pushes in a bit too deep, and I choke.As I retch around the pillar of flesh, I look up at him, eyelashes spiky with tears. But I don't pull away.No, I take it, and even lock eyes with him- I refuse to give him a reason to condescend, or treat me like a child."I see," He chuckles. "Well, if you're aiming to prove yourself…"He does not stop, nor slow down. Instead, he meets my challenge head-on.…And fucks in harder.Tears stream down my cheeks as I try unsuccessfully to regulate my breath with his thrusts.Undertaker is merciless .Both of his hands hold my head in place now, giving me no choice but to take it, and brutally. My jaw aches and I can feel the back of my throat bruising with every strike."I'm going to fill this pretty pink mouth," Undertaker menaces, his cock whipping wetly in and out of my throat. "Then I'm going to split your little cunt on my cock and come again."For some reason I cannot even begin to fathom, the profane threat and vicious treatment makes me throb in my trousers and moan around him.Drool spills from my lips and drips messily down my chin. I try to draw back for a gulp of air as the lack of oxygen causes my vision to darken around the edges. But Undertaker won't give an inch of leeway."Swallow," He says, and he shudders in my throat. "Swallow Daddy's come."Undertaker shoves in to the hilt with a gasping moan, and then his cock pulses over my tongue, followed by a hot, bitter flood. I gag, struggling to breathe, and then one big hand wraps around my neck, squeezing gently. "Swallow, Vincent." He groans, "It's that, or drown in it."It's not an exaggeration. The sheer volume he releases is staggering, and my mouth fills alarmingly fast.I force myself to gag wave after thick wave of the bitter heat down. Undertaker makes an appreciative hum as he feels my throat work under the pressure of his palm."Good boy…" He pants, "Take it all…."Only once he has emptied himself does he release me and withdraw from my throat.My entire body gasps for air, and I fall forward onto my hands and knees, coughing violently. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
Wrecked. Ruined. Devastated.
What a sight Vincent is, his little body shuddering as he coughs and gasps, face red as remnants of my come fall from his lips in thick ropes.It was too good. Too bloody good, better than I could have imagined; the boy on his knees sucking me with such curious and innocent lust, unsure of what to do with this dark and twisted thing I've awoken in him.
Those rose-gold eyes were misty as he huffed desperate breaths through his nose. Glistening wet mouth stretched over my cock which is too big to be taken fully in his throat, but take it he did, because I gave him no choice. And he did just as his Daddy told him, because he's a good little slut.
The way he retched over it, adam's apple jumping under my palm. Those delicate little muscles seizing around me, trying to reject the gush of heat flooding into his mouth when I came down his throat.
Exquisite. Depraved.
My boy is so willing to learn, to please. And oh, the things I intend to teach him… "Mhmm." I hum, "Already on all fours for me, love? You must be so eager to come."I slide out of my chair and join him on the floor, kneeling behind him.Vincent struggles to speak through coughing pants as I reach around him to unfasten his trousers, skinning them down until his little ass spills over the hem, then I peel them over his coltish legs.Perhaps he's telling me to wait until he can catch his breath. But if the naive little thing thinks he's ready to toy with grown men, he needs to learn that no man, not even his own father, is going to play nice and be patient when it comes to splitting him open.He's too winded to resist as I drag his hips up to align with my own.Slotting against his hole, I groan with satisfaction when I see that the dappling of bruises my fingers stamped upon his hindquarters yesterday have blossomed into rosettes of purple and black.
Mine.
I part his cheeks with one hand and strain out a dollop of pearl from my shaft with the other, smearing the head into the pink furl that winks with an anticipatory clench, kissing the tip.Then I press in.Vincent keens, and I'm quick to lean forward and clap my hand over his mouth."Hush, now. Shhh." I hiss in my boy's ear. "You don't want the help to hear you crying for your Daddy's cock, do you?"Vincent whimpers into my palm as I slide in further, riding on the slick sheen of come and saliva. Merciful Death, he's so bloody tight."Or do you want someone to see you taking your Daddy? Taking your Daddy like-" A fierce grunt as I bottom out. "a little slut? Will you moan for me in front of them? Push yourself back on my cock while they watch?"Vincent moans. Obscenely .I mash my hips into his ass, and his back bows in a curving arc, chest pressing into the floor. His hole flinches around me with a muffled 'God, yes'. "You like that do you?" I growl and fuck into him, hard and deep. "Being a slut for Daddy makes you wet?"He sobs into my hand and grinds back for more friction. Slippery warmth soaks into the seam between my hand and his mouth as tears of ecstasy roll down his cheeks. I watch his little fingers curl into claws, digging into the fibers of the rug.I want nothing more than to bite into the back of his neck, pin him down and fuck him blind until he's screaming on my cock. I part my jaws to do just that-Then there's a quiet knock at the dining room doors. Vincent stiffens in fear, his whimpers hiccuping behind my hand and the wet clicks of me fucking into him are almost loud in the hushed room.I don't stop."Pardon me, m' Lord. The main course is ready," someone calls from the other side.The master of the manor fails to answer, but no one enters." 'fraid I'll have to cut this a bit short, kitten." I whisper, then yank him upright onto his knees with me, and the change of angle has his hands flying to my forearm to dig into my sleeve with a panicked grip.I saw into him, strokes short and sharp. Choking on a heaving cry, the boy throbs hot around me, already about to come.Vincent glances back at me, tears streaming down his face and bloody Hell, every muffled gasp and broken moan he lets out makes me shudder with predatory thrill. My orgasm is clawing at the base of my spine as I soak in the molten squeeze of his body."Gods, boy, I swear I could come just from you warming my cock." I snarl, biting into the elegant curve of his neck, just below his mating gland. But it's still not enough; I can't resist licking over the patch of inflamed flesh. It's like dipping my tongue into the heart of a flower, where his pheromones emanate bright and potent, thickly saturating my senses as I savor his petal-soft skin.Screaming into my hand, Vincent comes untouched, his channel wringing tight around my length as he spurts in high arcs across the rug.The sweet, stifled cry is enough to make me explode inside of him, and I let out an answering groan into his neck."Sweet little thing," I murmur, quivering as I fill him with every aching throb. "Mmhhm." When he is lush with my seed and shaking out quiet, whimpering pants, I uncover his mouth and slowly withdraw.With his pillar of support removed, Vincent yelps as he topples backwards into my arms, and I laugh."Boneless, are you?" I say, looking down at him. His eyelashes shimmer with little jewels of tears and he's blushing like a peach, those candied lips gasping.Beautiful. Broken. Mine. Vincent manages a weak nod."As much as I'd love to bask with you in the afterglow, it won't do for the help to get curious and find you half naked with my seed seeping hot from your nethers."Vincent's blush darkens, and he grumbles. If I allowed it, he would likely doze off right here."Now, now, kitten, I'll have none of that. Daddy will make it up to you later. Promise." I lean downward and kiss him, allowing his dainty tongue to curl around mine as I sample our combined taste.If I could bottle and drink it, I would."You'll sleep with me tonight? In my bed?"The opportunity to saturate his sheets with my scent and possibly trigger him into presenting is far too good to pass on."If you would like."Vincent smiles lazily. " 'm hungry."I huff a laugh. "And I'm afraid I've already spoiled myself on dessert." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When the servants file in to lay out and serve our meal, Undertaker is entirely unruffled.I, on the other hand, am anxious. Perhaps even a little paranoid.Undertaker helped me redress and straighten my clothes, assuring me there was not a hair out of place once he was finished, but I still worry that someone will know.Will they take notice of my tender-bitten lips? The flush still sitting hot in my cheeks?I can only hope the promise of more money will be enough to secure their silence.As my plate is laid before me, the bite at the curve of my neck and shoulder throbs.Can they smell what we did?No. No, if a beta had any sense of smell to speak of, my mother would have known the mortician had his hands and mouth all over me during the funeral. She would have ensured his ruin then and there.The doors to the dining room pull closed as they leave us once again."No need to worry, love. They can't smell a thing." Undertaker seems to take notice of the tension coiled in my shoulders. "I take it you paid them off?"I nod. "Half in advance.""Smart boy. Then they shan't utter a word.""I should hope not.""If they do, you tell your Daddy, and I'll take care of it." He says, nipping on his glass.I draw a brow. "Take care of it...?""Indeed." His eyes gleam with insidious implication.He would kill for me. Such... devotion. Sun-warmed wings flutter in my chest as I cut into my loin of lamb.I regard him carefully, and his returning stare is accompanied by a soft curl of his lips. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Undertaker does not eat when I do. Only drinks.Though this does not entirely surprise me."Do you not eat what we do?""Pardon?""You are not human, are you?" His eyes alone tell me that much."Your bluntness is something to be admired." He smiles that slow, fanged smile. "And what if I said that I am not? Would that frighten you?""No." I say. "I was only wondering if there was something I could have served which you would enjoy.""Not unless you are willing to sacrifice a virgin and bleed 'er like a pig into this here glass."I sputter over my drink, and Undertaker howls with laughter."Joking! I'm only joking, love." He says. "But you are right. I'm not human.""What are you, then? A vampire?"A quiet laugh."More ancient than that. I've watched kingdoms rise and crumble, and nations emerge from the ashes. I was there when the sky fell to earth and the sun turned black. I've seen a thousand summers, and will see a thousand more. I have taken many forms, and been known by many names; Thanatos. Olüm. Muerte. Death, little Phantomhive. I am Death."As outlandish of a claim that is, I have no reason not to believe him. Undertaker is many things- humorous, eccentric, predatory, and quite possibly a madman. But the one thing he has never struck me as is a liar.His words are then fortified by how the temperature in the room suddenly drops, making the hairs on my arms prickle."But being in the glory of my prime, I did not think you would have come so soon. Why must my morning sun go down at noon?" With a smile, I quote Death and the Lady."I come to none before their warrant's sealed. And when it is, they must submit, and yield." He answers as Death. "You've no reason to worry, m' Lord. I've no intention of taking you to what lies beyond.""I admit, that's a relief. There is still much I wish to experience before dying.""Indeed. 'Tis always a shame to pluck fruit before it has yet ripened. I think you'll be happy to know that I'm retired." He says."Retired?""Yes. It's been a while since the last plague, and since then, the human population grew so dense that this old man could no longer manage it alone. Others had to be recruited, and they've taken my place.""So there are others? I assume they have eyes like yours?""Yes. But unlike me, they have spectacles that allow them to see.""You- you mean you can't...?""That's right. These eyes are half-blind." Undertaker says. "But you wouldn't have known, had I not told you, hm? Since retiring, I've learned to see the world around me in different ways. Sound, scent and touch. I can hear the blink of an eye, or even a cloud pass overhead. Smell the french grapes in the wine and the fresh coat of varnish on this table.""That's... impressive, to say the least." I murmur, unsure how to respond to being told he is essentially blind. "Is that how you knew I... that I wanted to-""Yes. I could smell it.""Then I suppose there will be no hiding anything from you." I smirk.His returning grin would put a wolf to shame. "Indeed. Pheromones are honest, even when our tongues are not." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ For appearances, I bid Undertaker goodnight before the servants and he takes his leave out the front door.He promised to be in my room when I retire for the night, but I don't see how that can be, considering I reside on the second floor.But when I enter my quarters, the window is wide open, velvet curtains softly fluttering in the wind. How Undertaker managed to climb up here wearing heeled boots, I'll never know.He is already on my bed, waiting for me.The pale glow of bare skin reveals he has disrobed, and is artfully arranged on the background of black satin, his outline broken up with ever-changing patterns of lacy silver cast by the moonlight glaring through the foliage of the surrounding trees.My heart crawls into my throat. I have never seen a nude man before, much less one as beautiful as he.Undertaker then slips under the covers, and lifts the flap of them open- an invitation.With trembling fingers, I undress, and crawl in with him.He pulls me into his bare chest, and he's so warm. My fingers trace the puckered flesh of a ghastly scar ripping across his pectorals.I wonder what happened to him. Who wounded him so, and why. But I don't ask."One day, I'll tell you." He says, and I realize then that I must be staring. "When the time is right."I burrow into his warmth, breathing him in."You really aren't afraid of me, are you?""No," I say. "Not anymore. Do you find that strange?""No. Not everyone is afraid of death. Some even find honor, or comfort in it. The ancient Romans knew that their life could end at any moment, and that freed them to appreciate the art, beauty, and pleasures that this world has to offer.""Hm. I suppose that makes us hedonists, then."He laughs. "Perhaps it does."I smile. "Good night.""Good night, love." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Stirring with a soft groan, I awaken entangled within Undertaker's leanly muscled arms, his bare chest pressed into my back.The slice of sky peeking through the curtains has lightened to a violet hue. Dawn will soon break.My fingers absently follow the scar winding around the forearm which binds me to him, and I wonder what my mother would think of me bedding a man. What she might think if she knew he wasn't really a man at all, but something even older than time.I don't believe she would forgive me. The teachings of the church are so deeply ingrained in polite society that I fear she would disown me. And if anyone other than her were to learn of my sins, not only would I be stripped of my title, but I would almost certainly be hung.No one can ever know."What are you thinking about, love?"I jolt with a start.Undertaker laughs breathily into my hair. "Sorry, kitten. Didn't mean to give you a fright.""How did you know I was awake?""Your breathing changed. And I can smell the bitterness of your stress. What's troubling you so?""I.... I was just wondering what my mother might think if she were to know what we were doing. If she could still love me."Undertaker hums contemplatively."She loves you very much, Vincent. But my years as Death have also taught me that when people are shocked, angry or disappointed, even with the ones they love, they rarely think rationally. They say and do hurtful things in the heat of the moment."I frown. "Do you think she might be that sort of person?""Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Many of the souls I reaped thought they were doing right by telling the truth. But in the end, it did no more than break hearts and cut lives short. Some secrets are meant to be kept. Ours is one of them."My jaw works. He is probably right."And when it comes to parents and their children... I have no doubts that your mother would have me sent to the gallows for knowing you as I have." He tells me, pulling me closer and releasing a warm breath into my ear. "Wouldn't kill me, of course, but your name and hers would be sullied irreparably. I know it feels wrong to lie to her, but trust me, Vincent. It's best that she never knows.""You're right," I murmur. "You're absolutely right.""Here, love," He says, and he swipes his tongue over that same particularly tender patch of skin on my lower nape. It sends a hot, clenching ache straight to my groin. "This'll help calm you."A low whine, so undignified, escapes my throat."Why-" I shiver. "Why does that feel so good?""Because that is your mating gland. After you've presented, this is where a mate will bite to bond with you for life."Ah. I didn't have the chance to read the chapter about glands just yet."I want to be- oh!" He sucks the place just beneath it, and my cock fills, lengthens along my thigh. "An Omega. For you.""You are." His chest rumbles with a growl. "God help you when you come into heat. I'll keep you locked on my knot every moment of the day. You'll cost your Daddy his business, boy.""I- I am?" That would explain why I feel so... submissive around Undertaker."Yes. I can taste it."I squeeze my thighs together with a whine. I need friction."Poor kitten. Just the idea of being knotted excites you, doesn't it?"I nod, and his hand slips between my legs to grip me. I gasp."Do you think you could handle it?" He purrs in my ear. "A grown man's knot? Thick as my fist?""Yesss," A heat rises to my face as he tugs the firm jut of my shaft.Undertaker shifts behind me, and I feel the hard, hot pillar of his cock glide between my thighs, and his fingers curl around us both.Then he begins to stroke. Slow, rhythmic. I draw a sharp, shaky gasp- the masculine roughness of his hand... it feels s- so good."You haven't even learned to pleasure yourself yet, have you? Precious thing." He coos. "Let me show you, then."Undertaker rolls his thumb over the dimple of my head, and his touch is fire, leaving burning trails in its wake. "Tease the tip like this,"I can hardly keep my eyes open as he torments me, and I buck into his grasp."You like that? When Daddy plays with your sweet little prick?" Undertaker breathes, and I choke on a moan as he squeezes the tip gently. He pulls his hand out from under the sheet, and holds it up in the moonlight for me to see."Uhn. Look at that..." A crystalline thread shines like dewy spider silk between his fingers. "Already wet for me.""What is it?""Precome. It means you're close to orgasm."Undertaker latches his mouth over my gland and sucks, and I squeal into the pillow. I'm so hard that I can feel my heartbeat pulsing in my cock."Want me to make you come?" His jaw trembles over my nape. He wants to bite me so badly that he's shaking with restraint.I'm rutting into his hand, and God, it's so slick with precome, mine and his. "Yes!""Then promise me when you come into heat you'll stay inside, where it's safe. Every Alpha who catches your scent on the wind will want to breed you. But they don't have that right, do they? Only I can touch you like this. Only Daddy.""A-alright-""Say it." He scrapes his teeth over it, and my brain short circuits as I drip hot over his fist. Oh god..."O-only Daddy. Only Daddy can touch me. N-no one else.""Good boy." He growls.Undertaker's hand strokes back and forth, grip tight as his tongue sweeps over my nape. I bite my lip and my hands twist in the sheets.Just as I am about to explode, his pace tempers, wringing our orgasm out slowly.I abandon my deathgrip on the covers to dig my nails into his forearm."Patience. Draw it out, love." He says. "Draw it out, and it will be more intense."Blood pulses like the hollow drum of wings in my head.God... God-be-damned, it feels so good...Then Undertaker groans, long and low in my ear. I feel the visceral throb of his cock as it heaves, spurting with come."Vincent..." He mouths over my gland, tormenting himself and me with a promise unfulfilled, but so close we can both taste it.With a grizzled sob, I come. I come so hard it almost hurts.He wrings me out until there is nothing left. Until I'm a shivering mess."You're mine," He pants. "When you come into heat, you're mine.""Yes... yours."Shortly afterwards, I doze off again. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I am jarred awake by a knock at the door."Pardon me, m' Lord.""O-one moment!" I call, and there is no banishing the startled tremor from my voice.I whip around to find that while Undertaker is gone, his scent still hangs thick and rich in the air. I practically fall out of bed to grab my nightshirt to pull it on over my arms, then fluff the collar around my neck to cover any marks.Trousers, trousers...They are still on the floor.In my exhausted stupor, I am not much more graceful in tugging those on, either. But I manage."Enter," I clear my throat, and start buttoning my shirt. "You may enter."The maid, Emiline, pushes the door open and wheels in the tea cart."Darjeeling or Earl gray, m' Lord?""Earl gray, thank you.""Are you quite all right, m' Lord?" She asks, no doubt noticing I am short of breath. "You seem a bit rattled.""Yes, I just... you woke me from a rather strange dream." I lie."It must have been strange indeed." She says, carefully pouring my cup."Yes, it was." I say, then smile. "I dreamed I was dancing with Death." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I take my lunch in the rose garden at noon."Have you received news from my mother?" I ask Emiline."None, m' Lord.""Hm." I sip my tea. "I do hope she is faring well.""As do I, m' Lord." She agrees, bowing her head. "Her duty is rife with danger, it is.""And before long, that duty shall be passed on to me.""Yes. It seems like it was just yesterday when you had your first fencing lesson. Now you're as adept as any knight."Emiline has been with the Phantomhive family since I was an infant. And according to mother, before I was even born.I chuckle. "You're too kind. Though I fear I am still somewhat lacking in the balance department.""With age, comes grace, m' Lord. You'll be as skilled as the Countess in no time at all.""I do hope you're right about that. It wouldn't do for me to fall on my ass in the middle of a match.""You already have your father's tongue, I see." She laughs, and then the sound chokes dead in her throat as she realizes her mistake.All of the servants have been forbidden to speak of my father."What can you tell me about him?" I ask. "Please, my mother tells me nothing. Nothing at all."She purses her lips, and is quiet for a moment as she debates whether or not to share what she knows.But money talks. And in my mother's absence, I have paid Emiline especially well to be lenient in my favor."He… he was a humorous man. I think that's why she took such a liking to him. He wasn't of noble blood, but he was handsome and made her and everyone around him laugh. And he was kind. A doctor, she said, and treated many free of charge if he thought they might struggle to pay. He turned no one away.""A doctor?""Yes. And a brilliant one, at that. Ahead of his time. Your mother said some of his tools were unlike any she had seen."I had no idea he was a commoner. Or a doctor. This conversation has yielded more information than I have squeezed out of my mother over the past ten years."I think you would have liked him very much," She says fondly. "I wish you could have known him.""As do I." The birds twittering in the hedges then fall silent, one by one, and the scent of roses is permeated with Alpha. "Thank you, Emiline. Truly.""Of course, m' Lord. I grew up an orphan. And I spent many a night wondering what my mother and father were like. I don't believe it is fair for you to have to wonder when she could tell you about him.""Indeed. If I can track down any information on your parents, any at all, I will share it with you." I offer. "And this exchange shall stay between us. You may return to the manor. I no longer require assistance."She bows, and takes her leave.When she is out of sight, Undertaker then steps out from behind a hedge."Where were you?" I ask."You may be one for exhibitionism, m' Lord, but it wouldn't do for me to be nude in your bed when you were roused by the servants, now would it?"I snort. "No, I suppose it wouldn't.""I imagine that would have given them quite the fright." He laughs. "Did you miss your Daddy?"
My Daddy. Yes. Mine.
He leans down to kiss me."Yes. I thought you had left." I say when we part.He sits beside me at the garden table. "I would never leave you without saying goodbye."Undertaker fixates upon the white rose bush beside him, dancing his clawed fingers lightly over the delicate petals of the fullest flower.I watch as deep red bleeds from where the pad of his finger touches, and my initial thought is that he pricked himself on a thorn. But as it seeps into the folds, it spreads outward like spilled ink.The shade darkens, from crimson to aubergine, until the entire bloom turns matte black.
Remarkable.
He then clips the stem between his claws, and passes the rose to me.Carefully, I rotate it in my hands. It is beautiful. The layered petals no longer remind me of dove feathers, but that of a raven."Is it… dead?""No. It is perfected. And now, it will never wither. Not until the day you die.""An eternal rose, as well as a foretelling of my death? That is quite the gift." My smile is slow, teasing. "I say, are you courting me, mister Undertaker?""I would say we're well past mere courting, m' Lord." He picks up my hand and kisses it. "At this point, we're no less than lovers." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A week passes in the blink of an eye.Undertaker sleeps with me every night, and by sunrise he is gone. He returns later, often after dark when the servants have retired. Or occasionally during the day, to steal kisses when we're alone and walk with me in the rose garden.The canvas of my body bears more brushstrokes and color than it ever has. Like the rose, I have been perfected by his hand.On this particular balmy night, Undertaker uses the flower as a tease. Velvet petals trail down my chest and abdomen, grazing over my tender bruises, making me shiver."Kitten likes soft touches, too, hm?"I moan in reply, and am acutely aware of the sweat drops rolling down my neck. It is unseasonably warm tonight.Undertaker hovers over me, following the path of the rose with his tongue."Beautiful boy," He murmurs, then tucks my knees up to my chest and squeezes my thighs together to fuck into the gap.Fluidly he moves, and I'm enswepted by the curtain of his silvery hair. He stares down at me as though I am something sacred, something holy to be revered. As though I am the only thing in his world that matters.So I call him Daddy, because it makes his breath catch and his cock throb.And this time, something within prickles, questions, truly wonders.
Could he possibly be…?
But I choose to ignore it in favor of hedonism, to simply revel in such sinful sensation.Undertaker exalts my name, and with a passionate snarl, his come splashes hot over my bare stomach. When he is empty, his forehead drops to mine, slick as he pants, recovering.Then he crawls backwards and holds my knees apart to kneel between them, and drags his tongue up the length of my aching shaft.A knock resounds through the room. We both freeze."I most humbly beg your pardon, m' Lord. I have received a telegram from your mother.""Very well. Slip it under the door, please." I call.Emiline feeds an envelope through the crack."Thank you. That will be all."We are stone still as the footsteps retreat."Is she gone?" I whisper.He listens. "Yes.""Then what are you waiting for?"Undertaker's laugh is low, then he takes the whole of me into his mouth as I thread my fingers through his hair and ride his face to a quick finish.After he swallows it down, we laze about until I decide I want something sweet. I collect the envelope off the ground and help myself to the chocolate truffles on the tea cart.Returning to the bed, I tear open the letter and Undertaker sits up to rest his head on my shoulder. But what the telegram says takes the wind from my sails. My mother will return within the next three or four days."What does it say?" He asks."She's coming home in three or four days."I sigh."Oh, love… don't worry. I'll still visit you plenty." He kisses my neck. "Even if I have to steal into your room at night."I huff a laugh. "Like a burglar?""More like a vampire," Undertaker playfully sinks his teeth into my skin, but not so hard it will bruise. He's being careful now. "But rather than sucking you dry of all your sweet blood…"He chuckles and cups my groin."Mm." I hum, letting my head loll to the side. "That doesn't sound so bad.""Indeed." He plants sucking kisses along my neck. "In the meantime though, you should continue bathing alone. I'll give you a supply of make-up as well. Your mother will think little more of it than you coming of age."I try to ignore the unsavory pang of guilt that rings through me. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I find it quite difficult to sleep after Undertaker has left, as he took his warmth and comforting scent along with him.He has a few guests to tend to, he said. But he promises to return as soon as he has finished preparing them, so I leave the window unlocked for him.Rolling onto my side, I breathe in the lingering traces of his pheromones that still cling to the sheets, and kick off the comforter before dozing off. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ My forehead peels from my pillowcase, and I shove off sheets.Fire. My blood is on fire.Am I sick?As I sit up, I realize I am soaked with sweat, and… something else.I consider ringing for a servant, until I notice where the sticky wetness is coming from. Then I am nothing short of mortified.Stumbling out of bed, I make my way to the shutters and open the window to let in a breeze.The early morning air carries a chill of relief, and I tug my soiled nightclothes off. A slickness rolls down the insides of my thighs.Naked, I return to bed.But I cannot get comfortable. A restlessness stirs from within, and my mattress doesn't feel… right.
Need softness. All around.
I gather my pillows and sheets, arranging them into a cradle of plushness around me.
Yes.
This feels better.I burrow in, but it doesn't smell satisfying. His scent… it isn't rich enough. My bed lacks his warmth. His purring voice.
Alpha…
My channel clenches, aches with emptiness. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A familiar, feverish spell is overtaking me.I wipe my brow with my sleeve, then pick up my scalpel before drawing the blade down the center of my second subject, perhaps a little too deeply- but merciful Death, I cannot stop grinding my molars.Heat roils under my skin. I shed my robe and then wedge the retractor inside the chest cavity, and have only just finished removing the vitals when a scent drifts into my shop through the cracked window, rich and thick enough to bleed through the viscera and plumes of incense.There is no question of who it belongs to, not when I have dipped my tongue into its source and had him writhing beneath me.My chest heaves with a deep breath, eyes falling closed. His scent is brewed from blood running hot, pheromones sticky-sweet as honey in the back of my throat. "Omega…."
In heat. Wet. Ready to be bred.
I barely have time to wash the blood off my hands and lock the door to my shop before I call upon a magic that I have not utilized in ages."Sorry, mister O' Malley, but you'll have to wait. I need to make a house call." I'll be damned if someone else tracks Vincent's sweet aroma and tries to put their lowly hands on what is mine, and mine alone.Summoning my Death Scythe, I use it to rip a hole in the fabric of space and step through the glowing, gaping wound, and onto the Phantomhive's property. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Burying my face in the pillowcase Undertaker slept on, I breathe deep, then scrape my tongue over the fabric.I need him inside of me.But he isn't here, so I can only sob in frustration.A knock at my door."M' Lord? Are you alright in there?""I'm fine," I snarl. T' would be humiliating for anyone to see me in such a state. "Leave me be.""Please, pardon my disobedience, m' Lord." Emiline says, and the door cracks open, but she doesn't step inside. "If you're in rut or heat, knock on the headboard twice and I'll bring you a cool rag and food, which I'll leave just outside the door for you. Then I'll leave you be."In heat?! Is that what is wrong with me?"God help you when you come into heat." Undertaker's words echo in my mind."How- how do I know? If I'm in heat? Or rut?""You'll be feeling quite feverish and craving an Omega's or Alpha's company, if I understand it properly."
Shit.
I rap on the headboard."Very well, m' Lord. I'll knock when I've delivered your things.""Thank you, Emiline. I'm sorry I was rude.""Think nothing of it, m' Lord."When she is out of earshot, I bite into the pillows to stifle my whimpers. My hands curl into the sheets as I desperately rut against the mattress in an attempt for some sort of relief.When my passage squeezes down around nothing, it makes a cramp rip through me like a serrated blade. Then I recall the contents of the black box.Leaning downward on the bed with my ass in the air, I wrench my arm back and fuck myself with the jade phallus. The toy is terribly hard. Cold. Unsatisfying. It barely takes the edge off.But worst of all, I continue to imagine Undertaker behind me, growling against my skin.Over the pounding of blood in my ears, I detect a rustling. His scent, thick and dark spills into the room. I watch through watery vision as he climbs through the window.For a moment, I believe it to be no more than a fever dream."Gods, boy, I could smell you from my shop." He says, then turns to close the window. "You're lucky I reached you first. All of London can scent you on the wind."He strides towards me, gaze fire bright as he takes in my compromised position- face down, ass up, with a toy nearly knot-deep inside. Another cramp. "Help me.""You're in heat," Undertaker breathes, "Sweet merciful Death, you're in heat."With every step he takes, my mind grows cloudier, and my passage seizes around the toy. It hurts. It fucking hurts, because it isn't him."I need you inside me," Pathetically, I plead. "OhGodpleaseUndertaker… Alpha."His shoulders rise with a slow, harsh breath at that word."Turn around."For a moment, I hesitate, a bit embarrassed that he has walked in on me fucking myself. But then I drop the toy and obey, turning my rear towards him.He picks it up and then slides it into place, angling it until it brushes that place that makes me want to thrash. I gasp as he moves it, slow and deep.My hands twist into the sheets of the bed as he winds an arm around my middle, cradling me from behind while he thrusts in, simulating what I so desperately need."Does that feel better?" He purrs."Yes… " Oh, God, yes…"Poor kitten," He croons, breath stirring my hair. "You couldn't get the angle quite right, could you?"He fucks me with it faster. Harder. I squeal with ecstasy, and he hushes me. "Shhh, Daddy will take care of you."Those words make something delightfully hot and filthy inside of me squirm.Slick streams down the insides of my thighs, and he leans over me, lapping over the gland at the back of my neck, making my eyes roll into my head."I'm so pleased you're an Omega," He breathes hotly in my ear. "Just when I thought you couldn't be more delectable…"Undertaker grinds against me, and I let out a low moan when I feel the outline of his cock straining through his robes."I want yours.""Patience, love. I need you to come first."I sob and when he nips just below my mating gland, my walls squeeze around the toy so tightly that he has difficulty withdrawing it.Undertaker groans when it pops free with a wet squelch, then shoves it back in."Please, I'll feel so good around you, so tight and wet and hot-" I mindlessly beg."Bloody Hell, I know you will." He growls, "Now, show me how you touch yourself."He fucks me with the phallus as I grip my cock, and I only manage three strokes before spurting all over the sheets and my hand with a breathless cry.Moments. It offers only mere moments of relief before the primal need roars to life once more. But I need more than to simply come. I need to feel the hot gush of him filling me."Need… need you…" I pant. "I need…""Daddy's knot?""Yesss!" At that, Undertaker makes a wounded, broken sound before hooking his arms around my legs and flipping me, then hauls me to the edge of the bed to replace the toy with his mouth.He breathes, heavy and moist against my flesh as he spears me on his tongue, then dips his thumb in. I whine at the pinch of his claw, but he soothes the sting with gentle laves.My fingers tunnel through his hair as it falls silken over my thighs, and I arch towards him, practically sobbing as I rock up into his face."Daddy..." I whine, and tears prick my eyes, The coil in my gut tightening. "Oh, God...""You're so wet for me," He marvels. "So slick… so ready to be bred."My channel clenches around him at the very idea.A distant knock as supplies are delivered. I ignore it, and so does Undertaker.Everything is so warm and wet, Undertaker's tongue delving and curling. My nerves spark at the scrape of his canines over the springy flesh of my rear, thighs aching as he splays me open a little too wide, as though I were made to be devoured by him."Undertaker, God, please, I need you inside... please, I'll do anything, just-"Undertaker doesn't even have the patience to remove his cassock. He only unfastens his trousers to free himself."Please…" I breathe, staring at his cock."My, how needy you've become." He teases me cruelly, gripping the length of his shaft and stroking himself. "So hungry to be filled, that you'd allow a lowly Undertaker to be your first knot…"I only blush with a whine, but then he drags my hips up into his lap.He laughs softly, then pushes in.The ruthless hardness of his cock parts my flesh with a sucking wet kiss. I keen, and his groan of satisfaction rumbles through us both.Undertaker leans forward to rest on his elbows before reaching under me to raise my hips to meet his, thrust-for-thrust.He swears. "Vincent… how could you have possibly gotten tighter?"Undertaker holds me close and starts to pump in so hard that I can only sob an incoherent string of pleas, jewels of tears glimmering on my lashes. His other hand knits in my hair, bullying my head back and laying worship to my throat with tongue and teeth. I allow myself to be immersed in decadence and ruin, ecstasy so rich, it rots me to the core, then I come once more with a scream."Mhhm. You unravel so sweetly for me. And now,"Undertaker then flips me onto my stomach and continues to fuck in, keeping my body strung out and purring with ecstasy, each plunge feeling thicker and thicker, until he grunts."You're going to take all of my come," Lodged deep within, I feel the hot pulse of him swelling inside me. "because you're going to milk Daddy's knot of every last drop, aren't you?"Undertaker's surges quickly become small rocking movements, knot too fat to withdraw anymore. When his tongue swipes over the gland at my nape, my vision grows spotty.Something… perhaps instinct, screams for pain there. Teeth."Please, bite me," My voice is hoarse, thready, doesn't sound like my own. "Make me yours.""You already are, love." He says."I want the world to know. I want to wear your marks, for all to see."He groans as though it is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said. "Devilish little thing. Tempting me so."Undertaker grips the back of my neck and pins my front half down."Daddy's come dripping down your thighs as you walk the streets of London isn't enough?""I want more.""Greedy boy." His body curls over mine so he can hiss in my ear. "Truly? You want your nobleman's clothes to reek of the dreary man who buries the dead?"A sickening thrill churns in my stomach."You want everyone to know you belong to the Undertaker? To me?""Yes!" I seethe. "Now bite me, damn it!"His teeth sink into the curve of my neck and shoulder in a bruising bite, but it's not the right spo-Suddenly color explodes from behind my eyes to flood through my body, rushing through every vein and swirling in a sanguine maelstrom.
Ecstasy.
Suddenly the pounding in my ears falls quiet, serene- like the crystalline surface of a lake, our pants and moans and racing hearts fading into white noise.Time itself seems to hold its breath for a few precious moments, and when I resurface, the combined scent of us bursts through the stillness, binding me to him- then I arch with a scream, coming violently in burning pulses."That's it, love," He pants, licking at the wound. "Come on Daddy's knot."A sharp gasp and shaky exhale, moist breath on my shoulder. Then comes the hot gush of Undertaker spilling into me, hips pushing to force his seed in deeper. "Omega…"He shudders through his orgasm, then gently turns us onto our sides."I can't mark you there, not yet," It pains him too, to deprive himself of giving me what we both want."But I'll give you this mark here. Make no mistake, you're mine, Vincent. In every sense of the word." He murmurs in my ear, then groans, still throbbing inside of me with endless spurts. "And I will never, ever let you go." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hot breath ghosts over my ear. Soft, gentle.Honestly, I don't remember falling asleep.I find myself caged within Undertaker's arms as he lies curled possessively around me. His scent is a weighted, fleece blanket, keeping me lazy and sedated.An ache ripples through me. But not one of pain, one of need, like that of an empty stomach. At some point, he finished filling me and slipped out."Alpha…" My voice is raspy."Mm?" He stirs, then buries his nose in my hair. "What do you need, love?""You.""Do you want some food first?"Feeling hazy, I shake my head. Only one desire roars, rearing its head above all else."You should eat and drink a little, kitten. Hold on,"I whine with protest when he rolls away to drag the tea cart over to the side of the bed. He must have fetched it after I fell asleep.Undertaker grabs a scone and pours a cup of tea, then passes it to me."Eat for me first, then I'll give you what you need."I look up at him, eyes pleading.
Need Alpha's touch. Warmth. The pulse of his hard cock-
He bends, hair golden, angelic in how it frames his face in the early morning light. His thumb pulls my chin downward to part my mouth for a kiss. Crushing his lips to mine, his tongue slips inside to swipe over my own. I whimper, then suck on it, trying to tempt him into fucking me first.He groans into my lips, then withdraws, breath shaking a little."Eat for Daddy, love. You need your strength."Pouting, I obey. When I am halfway through the scone, he leans against the headboard and begins stroking himself, gaze heavy. The flare of heat between my thighs is immediate and fierce, and I have trouble swallowing as my mouth dries at the sight, but I manage to wolf down the rest."Good boy. Now, come get yourself full. Your back to my front."I straddle his lap in reverse, and align myself. Those long, clawed fingers curl around my hips, guiding me to sink down over him. The sweet sting of tender tissues stretching to accommodate his girth forces a gasp.His cock curves inside this way, scrapes over that place that makes me want to scream.Undertaker draws a long, shuddering breath as I reach the hilt, my thighs splaying over his. "Perfect…"Rolling his hips, he fucks up into me, slow and deep. My head tips back over his shoulder, and he kisses my neck."How pretty you are on top," He murmurs, nuzzling me as I ride him. "Like you were made for this, hm?"
Yes.
Undertaker holds me in his lap as we move, fluidly, like the gentle rise and fall of an ocean swell.My mind whirls, dreamy and hot from the thick glide of his cock and wet clicks as we connect. "Alpha…"He grips my shaft, stroking in time with his thrusts. I squeal when he sucks my gland, and my walls clench around the thick of him."Uhhn. Oh, love…" He moans, and his knot has already begun to swell. Undertaker's hands migrate, one cupping my throat and the other lacing with mine to place it below my navel.My mouth falls open with a gasp, mind flickering like a candle in the wind as I perceive the slight bulge of his cock pumping within my body."Feel Daddy in here?"Panting through parted lips, I can only cry out in lieu of a verbal response.Undertaker fucks in with sharp, measured strokes. I arch back into him, head lolling bonelessly on my shoulders."Feel me deep in that sweet little cunt," He purrs, with another well-aimed strike.Oh, and I do. His knot is thick as a fist now.Scarlet rapture, hot and destructive, mounts from within. Leaning into his body, I sob, unable to do anything but take it."Shh, Omega," His hand moves from my throat to my mouth, and he slips two fingers past my lips for me to suckle on. "I'll give you what you need."I come, a visceral eruption, moaning around his digits. He growls as his cock then unleashes a molten fount, filling and overflowing from me in milky streams."Who do you belong to?" His voice, like sugared opium dripping down my spine, cinches the noose of his ownership over me.
"Undertaker…"
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Three days isn't enough.I want- no, need more time for Vincent to properly imprint upon me.When the boy's breaths grow soft and steady with sleep, I quietly slip away from him.A swing of my Death Scythe gouges a portal to step through. The seam parts like a wound, edges throbbing with a green glow.Revealed to me is a window to Surrey, where the forests grow dense and thick. Night has fallen, limning the silhouette of the treeline in moonlight.The earthy scent of horses. Varnished wood and cushions of crushed velvet.The carriage rolling through the foggy woods is slow. Hoofbeats and the rattle of wheels over an uneven and rarely-trod trail are the only sounds to be heard.I glide through the trees like a wraith, silent as shadow.The scent I track is crisp and clean, unclouded by the incense and preservation chemicals that fog my parlor.Rainfall, honeysuckle, clean linens and blade polish.Ah, yes, she has recently shined and sharpened her weapon of choice.Claudia is as pretty as she is deadly. Proficient with both sword and pistol.A pang of nostalgia rings through me, a bell’s somber tone, triggering the flood of memories that I have desperately tried to wall off.Bitterly, I swallow around the sour syrup of resentment thickening my throat.My chest still aches with the festering dry socket that she left behind.The Queen's Guard Dog was once the light of my life.But some things simply cannot be forgiven, no matter how many years have come to pass. As I close in, my grasp on my Scythe tightens, white-knuckled.The driver is oblivious. And Claudia's breath is slow and even.She has dozed off, lulled by the quiet. The opportunistic predator in me flexes its claws.It would be only too easy to kill them both at this moment. Too easy to stage it to look like a robbery gone wrong, and of course I would be the one in charge of examining her body and determining the cause of death. Vincent would seek comfort in my-Closing my eyes, I silently coach my restraint.Alas, the boy is not bonded to me as much as I would like him to be.
Not yet.
There will be another opportunity.Swiftly, I charge forth from the foliage and rip the driver from the seat, then hurl him to the earth.The horses halt, tossing their manes and whinnying, cutting my time in half.
Bloody Hell.
I raise my Death Scythe over head, and the man's eyes bulge and he gasps raggedly, clutching his chest. His heart jolts, shudders behind his ribs.Cardiac arrest.Unexpected, although it does work in my favor. A natural death will keep Claudia's guard lowered.Dinner-plate sized hooves stamp the earth. Fear, primal and wild, is rank in the air. The beasts rear up, rocking the carriage.Movement stirs from within the coach.I lower my Scythe as the driver falls limp, gaze empty.Clouds of steam billow from the horses’ nostrils as they snort and jolt forward, in a blind panic now. I am quick to cut their tethers free, sending them bolting into the night.The carriage which was dragged behind them creeps to a halt, now without any means of locomotion. I then retreat into the shadows just as the door of the coach bursts open. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A floorboard creaks as I step back through into Vincent's bedroom.“Hm?” My little Omega stirs. “Alpha?”“I’m here, love.”I shed my robes and begin unbuttoning my cassock.He rubs his eyes. “You’re dressed. Did you go somewhere?”“Yes, I was buying us more time.” I tell him. “Your mother will be a few days late.”Vincent blinks. Thinking. His brow knits.“You didn’t hurt her…” I don’t miss the sleepy confusion that muddles his voice. “did you?”
No. But I could have. And I will, if she dares to get in my way.
“Of course not. I only delayed her.” I say.He smiles then. “Good.”I slip beneath the sheets and pull him against me, kissing the crown of his forehead. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Little by little, I mold Vincent.His eyes are glassy as his body purrs for mine, learning the shape of me, to take all that his father gives him.I live and breathe his pheromones, radiant and warm as the sun. His honeyed moans and innocent, yet hungry touch. Greedy little thing, always wanting more.Mine."That's it, wet Daddy's cock."Vincent tows his tongue down my shaft, then suckles on the swells at the base. The boy seems particularly fascinated by this part of my anatomy which locks us together at the height of ecstasy. My knot rapidly fills under his teasing, and I can faintly make out the glimmer of that shiny wet mouth, eyes undoubtedly looking up, dark with lust as he gauges my reaction.So pretty on his knees. Such a slut for his Daddy.Eager swipes of tongue and lush pulls from his lips. I groan, winding my fingers in feathery locks. My blood churns hot."Good boy…" I murmur, then pull him off me. I do not even have to tell him to take his place on the bed. He gets into position all on his own, face down, ass up.
Obedient Omega.
At the altar of his offering, I kneel, thumbing his cheeks apart, his flesh bruising like fruit in my grasp. The nectar of his slick coats my tongue and rolls down my throat like sticky syrup, stealing my breath as I soften him and listen to his pleas.
'Alpha, please.'
'God, yes, so good'.
My watercolor vision paints a heavenly mirage, the dark sweep of lashes falling over his cheeks, the firelight shadowing the curve of his arched spine.Vincent then gasps as I slide in effortlessly, riding on his slickness to sink into the hot suck of muscle. He tries to string words together, to beg for it harder, faster, crueler, but the pleasure renders him dumb and stuttering.He is quick to fall apart, hips bucking, rocking back to take me deeper. How lovely are his cries as I slam in, lodging into soft flesh like a knife. My knot fattens.Vincent comes, long and hard with the sweetest, most drawn-out, breathy moan that I am certain I can feel dripping over my skin as his passage wrings, throbs around me.
Bliss.
My spine liquefies into molten gold as I unleash within him. Melting. Purifying as he fists the sheets, unraveling beneath me, his little body shuddering.The glimmer of rose gold as his eyes slide open to look back at me. Reverent."Daddy..." He breathes.In that moment, I know I am forever lost to him.I would sweep the very constellations from the sky and seal them in a jewel upon his finger if I thought it would make him happy.Love. I bleed nothing but love for my son. Love of the cruelest, most obsessive breed. A fanged maw and dagger teeth that sink into the bone, laced with venom that clouds the blood with possession so black that I want to cage him like a bird.So he can never escape. Never leave me.
Mine.
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
My interference was a success. The Queen's Guard Dog returns to London two days late, but she stops by my shop before returning to the manor.It was a stroke of pure luck that I just happened to be here, adding the final touches to Mister O' Malley and a few others who needed tending to. I do have a business to run, afterall.Vincent's heat is not quite over though. He still smells of sweet pheromones and slick.The fringe of my bangs hangs low over my eyes as Claudia does her damndest to pay my fee.She never was particularly funny. But her travels have lended her with an array of stories that are occasionally amusing.Though as of now, the only thing on my mind is our son. My son."Is there nothing I can do?" She sighs after yet another joke falls flat on its ass."Hm. If you cannot make me laugh, what about that boy of yours? Children tend to say the most hilarious things.""Vincent?""Yes. He could pay in your place, could he not?" I tilt my head, resting my cheek on my palm.She looks taken aback, but considers it for a moment."I… don't think he's ready for that."Her hesitation is understandable. Like London's underworld, her job is bloody and cold and cruel, and any caring mother would put off dragging their child into it for as long as possible."Hm. And how old were you, M' Lady, when you first shouldered the burden of the Queen's Guard Dog?""Sixteen."Silence. I can practically hear the realization wash over her features. Two years.The boy has two bloody years to fully prepare for the duty that will be bestowed upon him. Four, if the Queen decides to be lenient."And do you feel as though two years is long enough to prepare him with all of the skills he will need to police England's underworld?"A creak as her jaw works." 'Tis bold of me to say so, but t' would be best sooner rather than later, M' Lady. Perhaps learning to pay the fee of an informant would be a good place to start.""...I suppose you may have a point.""Then I do hope you will come see me again soon. The two of you are always welcome." I bite into another funeral biscuit. Without proper payment, I have reason to stonewall her."You can tell me nothing?""Only that some of my customers as of late have been a bit… unusual."The information I offer is vague enough for her to construe in any way that she sees fit.I know she will be back with Vincent in tow."Very well. I will return with your payment on a later date." She says, maintaining an outward calm.I can smell her frustration, though. My soft spot for her sometimes worked against me, and if it served, I would occasionally provide information without payment.But the hollow in my heart is no longer shaped like her, but Vincent. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A few of the servants are a bit quieter than usual upon my mother's return, but not so much that I feel I must worry.I am still a bit flushed and hot from my heat, which only began tapering off this morning. And these clothes only make me more uncomfortable. I've asked the servants to not mention that I've presented, under the guise of wishing to tell my mother myself."Welcome home, M' Lady." They bow."Vincent, dear!" She chirps, and passes me a weighted satchel."Oof!" I wasn't expecting it to be quite so heavy. "New books, I assume?""Yes. I picked up works by Edgar Allen Poe and a few others I thought you might like.""Thank you, mother!" I love Poe's poems and stories. The Telltale Heart and the Raven captivate me most. "What did the Queen assign you this time?""Unfortunately, I cannot discuss it in detail until the matter is closed." She says. "But let's just say there have been several disappearances as of late, and some of my contacts have been less than helpful.""Hm. I wonder why?""I wish I knew. H- They are usually quite forthcoming with information. But not this time.""Perhaps something- or someone, has reached them first." I suggest. "Intimidation?""Were it any other source, I would say you're probably right. But this one doesn't scare easily. Alas, I've said too much already."She's as tight-lipped as ever. But I hope it will only be another year or so before she will allow me to accompany her on such cases."Emiline, would you prepare a hot bath for me?""Right away, M'Lady."My mother ascends the stairs, and when she is out of sight, I return to my room, abandoning the satchel upon my dresser.At the moment, I have no interest in reading. I lock the door and pull out the presenting box instead.Still slick and soft from my heat, I kneel on the bed and sink down onto the carved phallus. Stuffing my fist into my mouth, I bounce lightly and stroke myself to the memories of the past week. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ By dinner time, I am positively starved.I restrain myself as much as possible so that my manners do not suffer, but I do eat more than usual. So much so that even mother takes notice."Goodness, Vincent. I have never seen you clean your plate so thoroughly!" She says as I reach for another croissant.Caught off guard, I purse my lips, unsure of how to explain myself without admitting that I presented and fasted while the Undertaker took care of my other appetites."He's a growing boy, M' Lady. Soon enough he will be the man of the house and seeking a wife." Emiline steps in as my saving grace."Yes, I suppose you are right about that." My mother agrees. "I simply didn't expect him to grow up so fast."I favor Emiline with a grateful smile."Vincent," My mother starts, then dabs her mouth with her napkin. "Tomorrow, I will be speaking with one of my most trustworthy informants. How would you like to come with me?"I practically leap out of my seat. "Really? I can go with you?"She has never allowed me to be involved in her work before.To her knowledge, that is.Eager to learn what my future duty will entail, I have made a habit of going through and studying her case files when she is absent. Whether she has yet to realize that has yet to be seen."Yes. In fact, I could honestly use your help." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The carriage rolls to a halt before Undertaker's parlor.My heart skips and damn it all… I feel a small gush of slick roll down my thighs, and can only hope it won't bleed through the cloth I padded my trousers with."The Undertaker?""Yes. He is my most reliable source." My mother says.We step out of the coach, and two commoners passing us on the street lock eyes with me.Their nostrils flare, and my heart plummets as I realize they can smell how wet I am.One halts, then turns around. I tense. He takes a few steps towards me.The hair on the back of my neck prickles as his eyes crawl over me. It feels viscerally wrong, disgusting, to be scented by anyone other than him.The bell to the shop rings as a old woman walks out with an urn in hand, and Undertaker follows.He is quick to stand between the man and myself, creating a barrier. His scent spikes with something sharp and dark, and I realize it is possession."Hello, Undertaker!" My mother greets him."Welcome, M' Lady." He tips his hat. "M' Lord."The man huffs, and backs away. Undertaker opens the door for my mother, then his head whips in the direction of the stranger. I know he is glaring at him through his bangs. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The next day, Claudia returns with the boy.Vincent's eyes alight as soon as he sees me step outside, setting moths aflutter in my stomach. He is still a little flushed from his heat, and most satisfying of all is that he still faintly smells like pine and petrichor and night-blooming flowers.
Like me.
He wants to rush to his Daddy, but before his mother, he is on a tight leash. His hands curl into loose fists at his sides.I, too, must play as though we do not know one another on a most intimate level. But oh, does it hurt. It hurts to act as though he does not bear my mark, as if I don't know what his hair smells like, as if I haven't heard him scream for me so sweetly.But then I smell fear. And an Alpha, intrusive and hungry, making a beeline for Vincent. In an instant I wedge myself between my Omega and the incoming stranger.Had the Queen's Guard Dog not been mere feet away, I would have gutted the bastard then and there for even coming near Vincent.
Mine.
Instead, I herd the boy and his mother into my shop and away from prying eyes, then take my place behind my desk."I've been expecting you, little Phantomhive." I dip my hand into the urn to retrieve a bone-shaped treat. "Care for a biscuit?""No, thank you."I snap it between my teeth."As I mentioned earlier, mister Undertaker requires a more unusual form of payment than the typical informant would. You will need to make him laugh." Claudia tells him."Make him laugh?" Vincent feigns a reaction of bemusement. "Surely money is-""Pfft. I've no need for the Queen's coins." I put on my madman's grin, and even allow a bit of drool to spill from my lip. "There's only one thing that I want from you."My love's scent of arousal spikes. A flush creeps up his neck."Very well. Then I ask that I say what I want to say alone. It's…" His voice lowers. "It's rather embarrassing.""Ah, a gentleman's joke, hm?" I imply. "T' would indeed be inappropriate to utter it before a lady."Claudia's brows raise, and she coughs into her hand. I know what she is thinking.It would be inappropriate for her son to utter it at all.But like a good little Guard Dog, she will go far for that Queen of hers. "Well, then. I suppose that is alright."She walks outside to wait.To my advantage, the windows are dingy enough to cloud the view within my shop."Come here, love." I say.Vincent is a moth to a flame, striding across the parlor to climb into my lap."I missed you. Did you miss Daddy?""Mmhm." He responds, and to my surprise he licks the stream of drool away and then kisses me, his hand settling over my groin.I groan into his lips. Daring little thing."You didn't come back last night." He huffs between kisses, and his tongue curls around mine. "I missed your smell, your warmth.""I know, love. And I'm sorry. I was terribly behind in my work. But I thought about you every moment of the day."I bury my nose in his hair, and inhale."That man, he could-""Smell you. Yes. But he could smell me on you as well. That's why he didn't come any closer. Because you're mine.""And if he did?" Vincent is morbidly curious as to what I will say."I would have gutted him in the street if he dared to put his lowly hands on you." I growl, fingers curling into his scalp to raise his face to mine so I can claim his lips again. He moans, low and sweet into my mouth."I… I touched myself last night," He confesses. "to the thought of you.""Ah," I hiss as he teases me half-hard through my cassock, his touch bold and shameless. "Did you, now? What did you think about?""About… that time in the church." He squeezes gently, and I throb in his grasp. "Your knot. How small and delicate I feel beneath you.He flushes. "God, I was so wet."
Precious kitten.
"Did you come?"He bites his lip, nods. "But it didn't feel as good as when you touch me."The boy's mouth is bitten red and plump, shiny. An irresistible temptation.I would bend him over my desk and fuck him till he screams were it not for his mother waiting just outside."Tonight. I will come to you." I kiss him again, nipping his lower lip. "As much as I would love to take you now, the risk is just too great."Vincent pouts, groans in disappointment."I know, love. But in the meantime, tell me something funny. We need to play it off." I pat his thigh, prompting him to hop up."You can't be serious." He sighs, sliding off of my lap."Oh, but I am." I insist. "As much as I adore you, kitten, I still require payment if your mother is to believe us.""Um…" His gaze searches the room, for something, anything he can use."Have you ever tried using that to hang your hat on?" He says, eyes landing on the prominent bulge in my robes.My cock? As a coat rack?I howl with laughter, and collapse over my desk."Oh, that is brilliant!" I wheeze, and I hear the bell to my shop as Claudia peeks in. "Truly!""Already?" She says. "That didn't take long at all.""Your boy is hysterical! Truly gifted." I wipe away tears of mirth. "He just bought you a veritable mountain of information. What do you need to know, M' Lady?""I need to see some of these 'unusual' customers which you have taken care of.""Certainly. And the boy? Will he be viewing them as well?"Claudia looks at Vincent."Please, mother? I'm not afraid."How eager he is to fill the shoes of Guard Dog.She presses her lips into a thin line, but then sighs in defeat."Very well."I can taste the citrusy sharp tang of Vincent's giddiness in the air, but know it will be short-lived.I stand. "Then follow me."They trail behind me as I lead them into the back of my shop, and when I open the door to the morgue, both clap their hands over their noses. Neither are accustomed to the sweet stench of death."This was a most interesting guest." I say, and wheel the autopsy table towards them. "I must warn you both. She is incomplete. If you wish to look away, M' Lord, you should do so now before I pull back this sheet."Of course, my little love tips up his chin, intent on putting on a brave face for me.But he truly isn't prepared for such a grisly scene. I draw back the sheet, and Vincent pales at the sight of the carved out, meaty cavity."There's a bucket on the floor to your left." I advise, and Vincent bolts for it, then retches.Poor boy.But even Claudia gags into her handkerchief."She's an Omega, this one. A street worker, by the looks of it. Her arms, legs, and nethers are terribly bruised." I point out. "Mistresses working in brothels are rarely this battered. The Madames don't usually allow such rough handling."Claudia swallows, but doesn't question my speculation. "How long ago was she brought to you?""About a week ago, I'd say.""Have you ever seen…" She closes her eyes, pushing down a wave of nausea. "Seen anything like this? Why would someone do such a thing?"Claudia's scent sharpens. Just a touch, but enough for me to detect. She is lying through her teeth, albeit well.She has indeed seen similar bodies before. But in front of Vincent, she will not say so."As a matter of fact, I have." I play along."You have?" Vincent says, and pulls out his handkerchief to wipe his mouth."Indeed. I would say these missing parts are being dissected somewhere after being sold for research. Proprietary medical schools pay handsomely for cadavers. But it's difficult to haul an entire corpse about discreetly. Chop out the choicest parts, however…"It isn't a lie, nor a full truth.This specimen was essential to my own experimental research, bringing me that much closer to my crowning achievement."I suppose that would be the most logical scenario." She agrees. "Those stitches- did you already open her up?""Yes. 'Fraid I had to embalm her a few days ago, or she would have been beyond preserving. If there is family to claim her, I want her to be looking her best. But if no one comes forward, I'll cremate the poor thing."And her ashes will be folded in with flour, nutmeg and cinnamon, then baked into my biscuits.
Waste not.
Claudia examines the rest of her, glossing over the injection site on her arm. She says nothing of it, so it would seem that she assumes either the subject had a penchant for morphine, or the marks were made by me.She then steps away from the body."Will that be all with this one, M' Lady?""Yes, I believe so.""Very well, then. I'll get the little Lord a drink of water.""Thank you, Undertaker." She says. "I feared he wasn't quite ready fo-""She was missing her brain, mother." Vincent says defensively while I retrieve my kettle and a glass. "That would have made anyone sick."I give Vincent the cup and then show Claudia two other bodies, one missing a leg and the other a forearm.Vincent seems to handle these less gruesome subjects with little issue."I honestly do not see a connection between the three," The Queen's Guard Dog says, then favors me with a sly smile. "Besides missing parts.""You don't?" Vincent says. "Two have an injection site in the right arm. I would say the third victim does as well, but that can't be confirmed with the limb missing. And all have skin rubbed raw around the wrists and ankles. They must have been strapped down.""You're a sharp one, M' Lord. And how do you know those needle marks are not mine, hm?"They are, in fact. But what the boy doesn't know won't hurt him."Because embalming fluid is injected into the abdominal cavity. I suspect they were drugged first, and then harvested for parts.""Precisely!" Claudia says proudly. "Those are excellent observations, Vincent.""You knew? Ah. I see. You were testing me." He says."You're well on your way to being Guard Dog, little Phantomhive. You will be solving cases just like your mother in no time at all."Claudia bids me goodbye after I enshroud the bodies once again.And as Vincent walks away with her, I feel a little hollow open in my chest as he takes my heart along with him. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The light of the midnight moon paints the Countess' land in hues of violet and indigo.Vincent is waiting for me at his window.He immediately leaps into my arms as I slip inside. I crush my lips to his and he tangles his fingers in my hair.Then he turns around to brace his hands against the wall, curling out his back in a graceful arc, planting his rear into my groin. Grinding back, enticing me."Eager for it, are we?" I laugh quietly.With his mother home, we must be as quiet as possible. A creaking mattress would raise her suspicions."Undertaker," I grip his hips and ruck up his nightshirt over his back to find that his lingering heat still offers a mess of slick between his cheeks. "Daddy, please…"Leaning forward, I give him two of my fingers to keep him hushed as I slide in. Vincent moans around my digits, sucking them into the molten heat of his mouth.Caging a groan of satisfaction within my throat, I fuck him into the wall until he is a quivering, whimpering mess. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Tossing for the umpteenth time, I finally resign myself to the fact that I will not be sleeping tonight.With a sigh, I drag myself out of bed and light a candelabra before making my way to the study.The grandfather clock chimes 3 am as I unlock a hidden drawer in my desk which contains more… secretive case files. Ones which I have kept hidden away for years.Out of sight, out of mind.Or so I had hoped.But it is impossible to bury the memories of what I saw that day. They are forever branded into my mind. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
A web of tubes feeds fluids into a severed head that lies on a steel tray.
Oh, God…
Its eyelids shiver, flutter, slow like moth wings, jaw working silently in a never-ending scream.
I try to stumble backwards out of the room, and when I scrape in a gasp of shock, its gaze widens, shifts, nails to me, pupils dilating as it sees me. Jaw clenching, it then snaps its teeth over and over, a hair-raising chatter of bone-on-bone.
My legs liquefy with fear, and as I try to steady myself, I blindly clutch for the table to my right, only to feel something cold and wet under my fingers.
I look down, and scream.
A headless, limbless torso, ribcage cracked wide open. Pearly curves of bone have been sawn away to create a visceral window to lungs pulsing with artificial breath beneath my palm. As I jerk my hand away, a sharp edge of ivory slices the side of my wrist.
I fall back into the stairs, scrambling backwards.
The wet click of muscle and tissues flexing. I can taste that the air is putrid with blood and viscera and chemicals.
Organs. Organs and disembodied pieces of people are everywhere on horrifying display, all of them breathing, twitching and throbbing unnaturally.
Splinters dig into my hands as I claw up the basement steps in what seems to be slow motion. When I reach the top step, I slam the door closed and struggle to put the lock back into place.
Shaking. I cannot stop shaking.
In a blind panic, I flee.
I run for a block before pausing to vomit in the gutter, waving away concerned onlookers. Then I contact the Yard.
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The raised scar on my wrist is a reminder that it wasn't all merely a nightmare.I pore over the files, dog-eared and yellowed with age. In fact, now that I think about it, they're even older than Vincent, now.
A missing arm. Severed leg. A stolen brain.
Somewhere…I know that somewhere, these pieces are in a chilled room with tubes and wires spanning out of them like roots from a grotesque tree.It is an unsettling signature, the method in which the bodies Undertaker showed me had been drugged and dismembered.But that case was fifteen years ago.And I harbor serious doubts that such a ruthless madman would have gone on that long of a hiatus. Serial killers of this nature are like mad dogs. Once they have a taste for blood, they will not stop until they are put down.Still, I cannot help but wonder if it is possible…?
No.
No, my prime suspect in these deaths is dead. Unless he rose from the grave, there is no possible way that he is responsible.A copycat, perhaps?Maybe.And yet, that does not feel right either. No, something is amiss, but as to what, I cannot be certain. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Undertaker is gone by morning.The afternoon crawls by at a snail's pace. I read a few more chapters of The Black Cat before my lessons for the day begin.Fencing. History. Penmanship.For the third time, I glance at the clock.Ten minutes remain.At last, my Latin studies are nearly over. The dinner bell will then ring, a bath afterwards, and bed.After midnight, Undertaker will climb through my window."Vincent, roll up your sleeves! You're getting ink on the cuff."I nearly jolt as my mother startles me."Ah," Dark stains are indeed smudged on them.I tuck them back a little."Heavens," Mother sighs, then sets down her book. "It's even on your wrists-"Anxiety spills cold into my veins as I realize the mistake I've made, and before I can react, she reaches forward to tug down the cuff and dab the splotches away with her handkerchief.But it doesn't budge, and I bite my tongue to keep from hissing from the ache as she scrubs at the bruise.I watch her eyes widen as it dawns on her. It isn't ink. They are bruises."What… how did you get this mark?!"My cheeks go numb, and I turn away from her, but not before I can see how her face has paled.No.No, no, no, she was never supposed to find out, never supposed to know-"I fell." I lie. "Off of my horse, while you were gone. I hit a patch of rocks."But then she rotates my arm, and sees another. And another. Her gaze narrows as she scrutinizes their shape and size."Don't lie to me, son. Don't-" Her shock simmers into rage, and quickly. "Marks like these don't happen from a fall. Who grabbed you?"
Shit.
"I. FELL." I dig in my heels, and will be damned if she pulls me away from the only one who makes me feel truly alive.Chancing a look back at her, I see that she is racking her mind for who I have interacted with recently."Vincent, you-" She swallows, apparently coming up empty. "You can tell your Mummy. It isn't your fault, no one is to touch-""Mother. I fell. That is all."She blinks in disbelief."Who are you protecting? You know as the Queen's Guard Dog, I have allies in high places, I can keep you safe.""I don't need to be safe. Because no one did anything to me."
No one did anything I didn't ask for.
"Take off your shirt.""No! Don't be ridicul-"Suddenly she grabs my collar on both sides and yanks, sending the buttons flying in all directions.I cry out and pull away, tugging my shirt closed once more, but not before she sees my nipples, bruises sucked and bitten into them. The fingerprints around my neck from where he held me against the wall and fucked in from behind.Her jaw drops open in a dark gash of horror."This… this wasn't just one time. Vincent…" She says, eyes glassy with tears as she glosses over his brushstrokes, but she doesn't see the beauty of them. Mottled purple and blue, with green halos, like abalone. They are ugly to her. "this- these had to be painful, you're bruised to the bone. Just tell me, son, you are not in trouble."I cannot. I will not.How dare she, perceiving his masterpiece as no more than a base perversion.A flicker of anger darkens my face before I can stop it. She catches it, and a dozen emotions swim in her gaze.All shades of fear, fury and betrayal.Having reached an impasse, I look away from her, then down at the floor."…Very well." She mutters, then releases me. "Then until you are ready to discuss this further," She backs up out of the room, and closes the door.I hear the click of the skeleton key turning the lock.She is going to keep me imprisoned until I talk.Or so she thinks. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I summon the house servants into my study."Do not speak unless you have the answer." I keep my voice grim and tight. "Who has my son been seeing?"They are deathly quiet, keeping their eyes averted to the floor.My nostrils flare with hot animosity."You were all tasked with not only caring for the manor, but also keeping an eye on Vincent in my absence. So I will ask again- who has my son been seeing?"A swallow, and cough.He must have paid them off. And well. Very well.Fine.Two can play at that game."This," I remove my choker, and hold it out towards them. "Is inlaid with gold, diamonds, and rubies. It is worth nearly a quarter of my estate. I will give it to the first person that tells me who put their hands on my son."I had expected everyone to speak at once.Instead, I am met with silence, cruel and steadfast.But the newest recruit shifts his stance, gaze gleaming and fixed upon the small fortune."If you sell it, you will never have to work again." I tempt.His lips part. He wants to speak, but before the others, he is hesitant. I take him by the arm and drag him along with me into the hallway."Tell me." I whisper. "And I will give you this, as well as a horse, and you can leave here tonight."His tongue curls over his teeth, mulling it over.But with a horse to sweeten the deal, he does not need to contemplate it for long."The scarred man in black. He was here while you were gone."My heart plummets off a cliff.The Undertaker.I cannot believe it.Click. I slot the barrel of my pistol under his chin. "Don't lie to me.""M' Lady, I am not," His throat works with a heavy swallow. "I swear on my life."I clench my jaw. Thinking. Holding the accusation carefully.The funeral.Undertaker took Vincent to the bathroom. And they were gone for quite a while.He then suggested Vincent pay his fee in my place when I could not make him laugh. And I left them alone together in his parlor.The marks on him, fingerprints which span from a hand far too large for an adolescent of his own age-My stomach turns from the implication."You are certain? No one el- you saw no one else?""There was no one else. He was here almost every day. The young master told us to keep quiet about it."I maintain an outward calm, but coils of thorns are winding, squeezing around my heart, digging into the flesh.
What has he done to my boy? Bribing the servants? Keeping such secrets?
Drawing a shuddering breath through my nose, I let it out through my mouth."Thank you for your honesty." I hand over my necklace, and holster my weapon. "Come with me to the stables, and I will send you on your way."Betrayal takes root, churning black and sickening in my gut.I doubt I will be stomaching anything but wine tonight. Dinner will likely only consist of awkward silence and a steely glare from my son.Speaking of glares, I storm past the other servants. "All of you. Pack your things and get the Hell out of my house."Tomorrow morning I will be seeking suitable replacements. Emiline shall be the only one I keep.But there is a more pressing matter at hand. The man who left marks all over my boy is still breathing. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Emiline unlocks the door and asks me to come downstairs for dinner."You… you aren't in trouble, are you?" I ask her. "With my mother?""No, M' Lord. Unfortunately for her, I've been with the Phantomhives for far too long. She could not sack me even if she wanted to."That is a relief, but the fact that she used the word sack means that my mother already threw out the other servants and is trying to narrow down a suspect."Good. And the Undertaker…?""What the young Master does and who he has taken a shine to is his own business," She affirms her loyalty. "And no one else's."If anyone spilled the truth, it was not her."Good." I say again. "I am pleased to hear that.""This, too, shall pass, M' Lord." There is little comfort she can offer at this point, but she tries."Thank you, Emiline."My heart pounds in my ears as I then follow her to the dinner table, and sit in the chair that suddenly looks and feels too big for me. My hands shake as I drape my napkin in my lap.The tension in the dining hall is thick as butter.I am equally as frightened as I am furious. How dare my mother hold me hostage and demand answers from me. How can she expect me not to keep secrets, when all she has ever done is precisely that.Considering that I cannot possibly be in more trouble than I already am..."What happened to my father?" I ask, picking idly at the pheasant breast on my plate.My mother chokes on her wine."Vincent," She chides. "This is hardly appropriate dinner conv-""Why won't you tell me?" I cut her off.Her gaze shifts, and as she opens her mouth, I can see the wheels in her head turning in preparation to weave another distraction, a lie, perhaps, and I also shift gears."Was he a drunkard? Did he seek out ladies of the night? What did he do to make you hate him so much that you will not divulge a single thing about him to his only son? Or… am I truly his only son?"She goes deathly quiet, and Emiline swallows."Vincent-"I leap from my chair and grab my glass, hurling it to the ground. She jolts at the crash of it shattering."TELL ME!" I roar.Her jaw works and she draws a deep breath through her nose."Leave us." She says quietly, closing her eyes and Emiline walks out, keeping her head low. When my mother believes her to be out of earshot, she licks her lips."Listen to me. There was no proof. No proof, but what I am about to tell you can never be repeated. To tell another soul could result in our utter ruin. Do you understand me, Vincent?"At last. At last, answers."Yes." I nod, and lean over the table. "I understand.""Your father... I cared- I loved Cedric dearly."Cedric. Never, not once has she ever uttered his name."He was good to me; kind. Humorous. The date for our marriage was set, but then-"She takes a shuddering breath."He was accused of unspeakable crimes. Multiple murders and illicit human experimentation. When the yard was summoned by an anonymous source, he abandoned his practice and then he disappeared without a word before he could be questioned."Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears."He never responded to my letters or attempts to find him, and two months later, his body was found. He committed suicide. There was no note or anything to explain why he would do such a thing."She is in denial. The only plausible reason he would have fled and then committed suicide is if he was indeed guilty of the crimes. Or perhaps he was set up and knew he had no defense."After the funeral, I moved to London. A few months aftward, I learned I was pregnant. With you."That intangible something twists in my gut. A feeling.A masochistic need to know if I have committed the ultimate sin.I shouldn't ask. I know I shouldn't.But I do."What was his job?" I murmur."What?""What did he do? What was my father's job?"If there is one thing I have gleaned from my mother's case files, it is that people are creatures of habit. While someone may change their appearance to go into hiding, what they do as an occupation rarely will."He was a doctor- a surgeon, for ten years. But he wanted more time with me, so he took a position as an undertaker."My face numbs as the color drains from it, and my senses nosedive. The world tilts on its axis. I collapse into my chair. Cold.
Undertaker.
Undertaker truly is my father.My hands tremble."Vincent?"Mother's voice sounds miles away, underwater."Vincent?"
I leave the room, legs carrying me of their own accord up the stairs.At some point, I reach my bedroom and drop onto the mattress.
He's my father Undertaker is my father What have we done WHAT have I done Oh God
I am mated to my father. I let him kiss me, touch me. Suck me, fuck me.My own father...Screaming into my pillow, I try to ignore the flaring burn between my thighs, because that isn't the right reaction. Not at all.My heat. It must be my heat.A murky wave of shame washes over me, but it does nothing to stop the pulse of my hardening cock.That is not the right reaction to this. It isn't, it isn't- ...Or is it?Where are the lines drawn? And who draws them? Society? The church? The Queen?Or me?The most difficult thing to reconcile is that at some level, I knew. Or at the very least, I suspected it.But I never stopped to ask, despite there being signs, even when I wondered if he was my father.Perhaps it's because I didn't really want to know. If I could have maintained the illusion, we could continue to…Then I recall a passage from The Black Cat.Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart - one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of man.
The mark on the curve of my neck and shoulder gives a sad throb.I need to see him. Confront him.I want answers.Stuffing pillows under my sheets, I arrange them into a convincing shape.After tying the spare bed sheets from the bottom drawer of my armoire together, I open the window and step out onto the balcony. Winding the makeshift rope several times around the railing, I then knot it until I am positive it is secure and let it drop.Then I hold on tight and shimmy down its length.As soon as my feet touch earth, I bolt for the stables.To my surprise, there is a servant in there, saddling a horse. A casualty of my mother's fury."You there," I pant. "Take me into town."He looks at me, and he shifts his gaze away. Nervous. Or perhaps embarrassed."Um… sorry, but I no longer work for the Phantomhives, M' Lord."Fishing a bag of coins from my interior coat pocket, I hand it over to him. "Consider it one last job."He takes it, tosses it in the air and catches it to gauge its weight- its worth. Then he laughs. "Alright, then. One last job." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
As the ex-servant rides away, it occurs to me that I failed to plan a means to return home.But at the moment, I am more concerned with getting answers.I walk into the derelict shop, immediately locking the door behind me.At least a dozen candles are lit, making the shadows in his parlor dance and flicker. The smolder of incense thickens the air.The mortician sits behind his desk, but doesn't greet me.It is long past time for me to retire for the night, so he knows something is wrong."You…" I swallow. "Your name is Cedric. And you're my father."Undertaker is still for a moment, then his lips slowly curl into a smile."I am."I march towards him, prepared to yell, to slam my fists onto his desk and demand he explain himself. Shame him for what he has done to his own son, for awakening this twisted, corrupt thing inside me.This… This thing he has been cultivating, nurturing. A part of me feels sick, recoils from it. Another wants to drape myself in it, feel the luxurious material it is composed of. It's like mink- how lush it is on my skin, and yet how horrifying to know that it was stripped from something innocent, something he gutted and then transformed into something else entirely.A beautiful lie, a stitched together monstrosity that he fitted and fashioned just for me."Why...? Then why are we doing this?" It is meant to be a roar. Instead, my words are weak, laden with desperation.I want to slap him for lying to me for this entire time, my fingers twitch but the muscles in my arm will not coil."I told you. Because you're mine."A flare of heat in my chest.Yes. Alpha's. My instincts preen.I swallow. "Your son. Your son, for God's sake.""Yes. But you are so much more than that, love.""We can't- we shouldn't be doing this." But even I can hear how my words lack conviction."Oh?" His voice is slick. "Why not?"This isn't going at all how I had planned, and he knows it. My fire of righteous anger burns low now that I am standing before him, enveloped by his calming scent.Undertaker stands, swoops out from behind his desk, a raven circling in on a gravely wounded animal. Eyes sharp and gleaming with predatory interest as he examines the fresh, wet wound, something he is only too eager to pick at.The question is how long will he toy with his prey before he decides he is hungry enough to deliver a fatal blow."You're my- my…"Undertaker closes in, caging me against the wall between his arms."Your Daddy. That's right." His words make a warm neediness bloom in my stomach, bones weak against the depth of his voice."It… it's a sin. An unspeakable sin, what we are doing." My breathing shallows.Even now, the fact that the church frowns upon incest is honestly the only reason I can come up with as to why we shouldn't be doing this. And in his looming shadow, even that argument seems flimsy.Because despite how my view on our relationship has been skewed, the spike of arousal emanating off of him still sets my heart racing."Is it, now?" He drops his head to my ear. "According to whom, hm? The church? They would also tell you that you shouldn't eat fish on the Sabbath, or that a husband may sell his wife to her rapist. But tell me, Vincent, does it feel like a sin? Or does it feel like heaven unfurling inside you?"Undertaker's tongue drags, hot, wet, from my jaw to cheek. "Death has chosen you, boy. But not to die- no. To live. Truly live."Fine. If my body will not comply, I will weaponize my words instead."As your plaything?" I say bitterly.Those eyes of green fire flash hot. Dangerous. His hand flies to my throat, fingers closing around it. Firm, but not cruel. Just tightly enough to let me know how deep that remark cut."You honestly think you mean so little to me?" He seethes. "Oh, that hurts, Vincent. Truly."The pressure of his fingers around my neck sends a thrill peeling up my spine and slick oozing down my thighs.He's angry. But a vulnerability swims in his gaze, hurt, I think, and a pang of regret rings through me.He lied about his identity, yes. But he has never done anything I did not ask for. Overall, he has been good to me. Taken care of me when I needed him; he kept me company while mother was gone and ensured I was satiated and well-fed during my heat."Do you love me?" I ask.Undertaker's grip tightens, but only to pull my head forward so that his lips can weld to mine, and I melt. Then it's all tongues and teeth."Love? What I feel for you, Vincent, is unholy. The fucking atrocities I would commit in your name," He vows between devouring kisses.I gasp into his mouth, and when he picks me up, I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the nearest coffin, and sits on it."It- this is wrong-" My resolve is a dying ember that he smothers under his boot.Gripping my ass, he grinds me down over his groin. "But you fucking love it."I do. I shouldn't, but I do.So I give in, allowing him to drape the luscious, sable softness around my shoulders, and I accept his gift dripping with blood and sin. But it is so soft and warm. A cradle of plushness. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? "Dad-""Yesss," He hisses. "Say it.""Daddy," I whine as he sucks my neck, the graze of teeth making me shiver. "Daddy…""I can smell how wet you are. Need my cock that badly, hm?"I let out a moan as he pushes the stiff ridge of his shaft up against me.He winds his fingers into my hair and yanks my head back to look at him. My cock pulses in my trousers."Don't you?" He asks through grit teeth.I give a tight nod.I'm panting as he picks me up off of his lap to rip my trousers down over my hips. My legs shake beneath me.He spins us around to bend me over the coffin."Beg for it," He licks my gland, then sucks. "Fucking beg for your father's cock.""Please-" A shuddering whine. "Please," and my own member drips shamefully with crystalline filaments. "Please."Still soft and pliant from my heat, he pushes in the head almost effortlessly.Almost. The stretch of accommodating the girth of his shaft as he is further drawn in to the hot suck of muscle still burns.He hooks a hand under my thigh and raises my leg up, then shoves in to the root, ripping a choked cry from my lungs."Mhmm. This cunt of yours, sucking me in so hungrily." He teases me with shallow dips, and I claw at the edge of the coffin. "You'll leave here marked all over again. Bitten. Bruised. Daddy's come hot inside of you. She saw them, didn't she?"We both know of whom he speaks." ' m sorry!""Or maybe…" He growls. "Maybe I won't let you leave at all. Maybe I'll keep you locked away until I want my cock sucked or warmed. And you'll do it without fuss, because you love it that much, don't you?""Yes!" I croak as Undertaker thrusts into me without restraint. And God, it's so vicious that I cannot get enough."Da- ad-dy!" Sobbing like a broken doll, I am jolted back and forth across the smooth enamel finish of the coffin.My father groans, then pins me in place by the back of the neck as he mercilessly fucks in, holding me fast and fierce."Don't-" I huff. "Don't-""Don't what?" His voice is edged with teeth."Don't- ah, don't stop!" I plead. "OhGODplease… PleaseDon'tstop""Good boy. Already about to come for me, aren't you?"I nod, hiccuping as I can only hold on to the casket and take all that he gives.His knot swelling inside me puts pressure on my walls. Undertaker's head drops next to mine, breath huffing hot as he bears over me."Say it," He growls. "Say my name.""Cedric," I whine, and he draws a slow, harsh breath. "Cedric…""Again."Undertaker licks over the gland at the nape of my neck, shaking apart beneath him. Teeth scrape ever so lightly over the tender flesh, a threat, a promise, and I come in burning pulses with a scream."Vincent…" A gasp hitches in his throat as I throb around him in lush little sucks. "My sweet, little love."I sob when he suddenly pulls out, but he only flips me over to face him, then slides back in."Feel what you do to your Daddy?" He takes my hand, guiding it downwards so as to feel the weight of the full, hard flesh of his knot, almost fully engorged.Then with a hard shove, Undertaker stuffs his knot back inside, making me arch with a drawn-out wail.He leans downward to kiss me, hair falling in a silvery, silken curtain around us. His expression softens into what I can only describe as reverence, and he cups my face with one hand, thumb rowing over my cheek."My beautiful boy.""Alpha…" I wind my arms around his shoulders as he curls his hips in, slow and deep, pushing and dragging himself through every inch of what belongs to him.And it's good. So good, to be cherished slowly, sweetly, cruelly.Then I whisper in his ear."Cedric… Daddy."Undertaker gasps, throbs as he comes hard inside me. Shivering in ecstasy, he holds me close throughout his orgasm, murmuring what a pretty Omega I am, so soft and sweet and good for him.But when it melts away, the silence eats us alive.My back aches from the coffin's unforgiving surface. But that pain is but a dull roar to the wasp's nest buzzing in my mind at the moment.All barriers have been demolished. The flesh of ignorance and lies have skinned back to reveal glaring white bones of the sin we have committed.My father. I have done the unspeakable with my father."Does she know you left?" He finally asks."No.""Let me take you home, then.""I don't want to go home." I complain, burying my face in his chest. "I want to stay here, with you.""I know, love." He sighs. "But if she realizes you are gone, things will become far worse. I take it she saw the marks, and that's why you are here?"Grimly, I nod. "I told her nothing.""Good. That buys us time." He says, then helps me up, and I wince when he slips free. "I will see what can be done to take care of this.""You won't… you won't hurt her, will you?""No."His response is curt, simple, and gives no clarification as to how he can mend this. I am not certain that I believe him."I loved her, once." He admits, then huffs a small laugh. "Not even ancients like myself are immune to a mortal's charm. Unfortunately, she did something that hurt me, and so deeply that I could not find it in myself to forgive her. So, I left. And for that, I am sorry. I am sorry you grew up without me."I am not even sure what to say.He then softly kisses the top of my head, letting his lips linger there."But you, Vincent, are like her in so many ways that I couldn't stop myself from wanting to love again."Something inside me twists and my throat clenches. Undertaker does love me."I…"I wind my arms around his neck. "I love you, too, Daddy."For a moment, he is silent. Then comes a choking sound. A wet, ragged breath.The salt of tears embitters the air."And I love you, kitten." He returns my embrace. Strong. Warm. "More than I've any right to."I kiss him."After you take me home… will- will I get to see you again?""Of course, love. I promise, nothing will keep us apart. Nothing." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ "If Vincent asks," I say to Emiline as I sheath my sword, "you are to tell him that I was summoned by the Queen. "Under no circumstance are you to let him out of his room until I return.""Yes, M' Lady.""Keep all of the doors and windows locked." I check my pistol one last time. "If you see the Undertaker, you are to shoot him where he stands.""I shall, M' Lady."And if… if I fail to return by sunrise,"I seriously doubt that will be the case, but for practicality's sake, I must cover all bases."You will contact the Yard, and only then will you let Vincent out. But do not let him stray from your sight. Do you understand me?""Yes, M' Lady." She bows. "I bid you safe travels."I leave without another word. I know Emiline must have been paid off as well, because nothing escapes her attention. She would have known something was amiss long before any of the others.But she knows too much. Has seen too much. I cannot let her go without risking the ruin of the Phantomhive name.If there is one thing I have learned, it is to keep your friends close, and your potential enemies closer. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The streets of London are eerily quiet tonight.Hushed, with only the wind rustling through the alleyways. Like pinned butterflies, posters of the missing flutter hopelessly against the walls of empty shops.I left the manor without telling Vincent. If he were wise to what I am about to do, he would undoubtedly try to stop me.But I will not bite my tongue and hold my peace in the face of injustice, as a woman in today's society is expected to do.My position as Queen's Guard Dog affords me certain immunities and discretion to dispense justice where it is due, and I very much intend to take my pound of flesh. The mortician is an old man, after all. His death will be a surprise to no one.But I cannot shake that something does not feel right. I hitch my horse down the street, so as to maintain the element of surprise.Slowly, I rotate the handle of the doorknob to the dreary shop, and am surprised to find it unlocked. The bell rings as I enter, but it is otherwise dead silent.I draw my sword."And just what do you intend to do with that, my dear?"The hair on my nape stands on end.A rustle of cloth to my right. I swing the blade, slicing the candles lining the shelf in half.The severed chunks of wax fall to the floor, extinguishing the flames and my only source of light.…Which leaves me blind, standing in the pitch black of less-than-familiar surroundings. I could trip over a coffin. Or run into his desk.By reacting solely on emotion and venturing into his territory for a confrontation, I have made a dire mistake."Show yourself, Undertaker. I've no time for games." I snarl."But I am so very fond of games. As are you." He sheds his cockney accent for a dark husk, unsettling in its familiarity. "Chess is your favorite, as I recall."Goosebumps sharpen my flesh. The way the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place causes ice to form between the curves of my ribs."I know what you have done, you sick bastard," I hiss. "I know you put your hands on my son.""He is mine, too, you know." He laughs. "The boy was bored. I simply showed him a bit of fun."My blood ignites with blistering rage. He is trying to rile me, blind me with fury.The strike of a match. Flames glow from the back corner of the room as two candles are lit, limning the obstacles of scattered coffins in flickering orange. I rush towards its source.A spiral of fluttering robes. Thrusting my blade forward, I impale the billowing cloth, only for it to then fall limp and hang loose, empty on my blade.
How can that be…?
"You've no claim to him-" A flash of green light.I whirl around, and the Undertaker's face is contoured in firelight and shadow.My stomach lurches as a dizzying wave of dread spills into my guts, and the last piece of the puzzle clicks into place.But the picture it forms is sickening and twisted, like a haphazardly stitched-together corpse.
No, THAT is-
Impossible. He cannot possibly be alive.
"Cedric?"A grinning skull crowned with thorns, a ladder of ribs and a column of spine materializes in his hand. He rotates the partial skeleton, and as he does I see the gleam of a wicked, curved blade jutting out of the back of the skull's cranium.My brain stutters to make sense of what I am seeing.The wicked weapon, his eyes, like green fires forged from the heart of a dying star.A nightmare. This must be a nightmare.'Run. Run! RUN!' My every instinct screams, but under his glowing gaze, my muscles lock in paralytic indecision."Did you miss me?" When a mocking laugh rumbles in his throat, my stasis crumbles as rage roars over fear, reignited with a vengeance.
No. I won't run. I shall gut him where he stands, bleed him like the treacherous pig he is.
In what seems to be slow-motion, I react; the muscles in my legs coil, and my body pitches forward as I launch into a sprint. Forearm drawn back, I prepare to crash my blade through his neck.But I only manage a single step before he rushes me, impossibly fast, clawed hand flying to my throat.My heels leave the ground mid-stride as he has me caged within inhumanly strong fingers, and he charges forth with all of the speed and power of an oncoming train.Effortlessly, he lifts me to crush my back into the wall with such force that breath bursts from my lungs in a cry of shock. Pain throbs fierce and red up the back of my skull, ears ringing.Still, I manage to jam the point of my blade through his heart, a shallow yet fatal pierce, and he winces, baring teeth. I wait for him to collapse. To drop me.His shoulders begin to shake and he coughs, then sputters. Then I realize he is laughing."That wasn't very nice. And as for your last remark… "His other hand wrenches my wrist at an unnatural angle, and the sword falls from my hand with a metallic clatter as he disarms me with brutal efficiency."I have every claim to him." Undertaker hisses. "He's my son."His grip tightens. I thrash, kicking out at him, but he doesn't flinch.I fumble for the pistol strapped to my thigh, but he calmly draws it from its holster and out of my reach, rendering me defenseless."You needn't worry, though." Pressure so severe I cannot scream. Agony. A bony, wet crack. My view of him lops sideways. "I will take good care of him in your stead."
Crunch.
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
***Fifteen Years Ago***
As we approach Bunting street, my eyes begin to sting.The carriage turns the corner, and suddenly jolts to a halt, the horses unwilling to go further. Then I smell the smoke.Peacock tails of sparks burst through plumes of black smoke. I step out of the coach to find Cedric's practice engulfed in roaring flames.
Damn him.
All potential evidence of his illicit experiments, burned to ash.The Yard is on standby, awaiting the Fire Brigade to get the situation under control. They scramble about like ants stirred from their hill, fruitlessly tossing buckets of water upon it. One drags a hose away that has already been burned in half, now too short for use.I know once they rummage through the ruins, very little will be found. My word and this convenient blaze is all I have to substantiate my claim.The commissioner, a steely-eyed, mustached man, notices my arrival. He is a man of respectability, and was especially helpful in providing information during a case involving a serial rapist."Do you know where he is, M' Lady?" He asks."No. He was out when I found… what I found." I swallow. "Pieces of people in the basement. It-...it was unlike anything I have ever seen."I realize that I must have left a trail of bloody handprints up the steps after accidentally shoving my hand into the chest cavity of one of the corpses. Cedric would have known immediately that I had discovered his grotesque secret."Pieces, you say?"Grimly, I nod. "I take it you've no luck in locating him either?"He shakes his head. "It would seem he fled. But your testimony and this blatant attempt to destroy evidence is enough to warrant my suspicions that he is indeed the killer we have been looking for."I don't want to believe it. But nor can I deny what I saw.Six months ago, a serial killer struck Stratford.Citizens have been stumbling across bodies missing arms, legs, and internal organs in parks, floating in ponds or dumped in swaths of woods. The extraction of said parts is seemingly done with exceptional skill using a bonesaw or other surgical tools.The commissioner covers his mouth and coughs. "But rest assured that we will find him. He could not have gotten far."I open my mouth to respond but then a wave of dizziness overcomes me."M' Lady?"My stance sways. The commissioner steadies me, then leads me back to the carriage. "Come, let us move away from the smoke. I fear we have both breathed in too much.""I mus- must have, I suddenly feel faint." I agree, and cough again.A wheezing rattle. He chokes into his sleeve, then gapes at the spatter of dark blood blooming over the cloth.A wave of horror crashes over me. My pulse kicks with adrenaline.
Formaldehyde.
"We have to get away from here right now! Formaldehyde burns into poisonous gas!"His eyes blow wide."Everyone get out of there! NOW!" He hoarsely roars, turning back towards the blaze.Then we see the scattered silhouettes on the ground.The few men still standing manage to stumble away, but then promptly drop to their knees, hacking and vomiting, suffocating within the cloud of toxic vapors."We have to go!" I tug his arm, staggering as I haul him into the coach with me, and he collapses, eyes becoming bleary, unfocused."Go!"The driver whips the horses, and we bolt from the scene. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Nineteen men died.The commissioner died as well, from complications of the heart three days later- a direct result of inhaling the toxic fumes.I survived only because my exposure to the poisonous gas was so brief.Every lead I chase is a dead end, and all of it keeps me awake at night- the grotesque horrors in the basement. Cedric's disappearance. The cancellation of our wedding. The embarrassment of facing the Queen empty-handed when news reaches her that nearly half of London's police force, as well as the entire fire department is dead.I manage to save face only because her private butler/secretary failed to locate Cedric as well, lending credibility to my claims that I have indeed exhausted every possible avenue.It would seem that Cedric has dropped off of the face of the earth. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Claudia falls limp as I shatter the fragile bones in my grasp."If only you could have understood… or even tried to talk to me before calling in the bloody Yard." I sigh. "We could have been a family."But she never did.I suppose my ways were too strange for an upper-crust lady like her. A few more years being molded by his mother's hands, and they may have been too strange for Vincent, too.Men of medical science are often believed to be mad. Especially those of particular brilliance. William Beaumont. Thomas Willis. James Marion Sims. All of them faced controversy for their unethical methods. Until their crowning achievements and discoveries proved the masses and naysayers otherwise, that is.The wound in my chest aches, throbs as it heals over. She pierced me good- I let myself lean against the wall, shoulders heaving as my torn heart leaks pulses of blood into my chest cavity, putting pressure on my lungs. Though it is quick to reabsorb, merciful Death does it hurt.Long before she reached the shop door, I could smell her sweltering rage. Her effort in trying to gain the element of surprise is applaudable, but not even another reaper could catch me unawares.Once I gather myself, I shed my robe and cassock, then toss them in the crematorium before putting on a new one.Lighting both incense and the incinerator smothers the scent of spilled blood in sandalwood and burning cloth. Late though it may be, the last thing I need is a stranger's keen nose picking up on my wound or the Queen's Guard Dog.Gathering her body into my arms, I lay her in a satin-lined coffin, along with her gun and sword. Then I bring my scythe down upon her.Ribbons of memories unfurl from the wound. I skip ahead to the last twenty-four hours.Ink smears on Vincent's cuff, a simple mistake but one of devastating consequence. She scolds him, then rolls the sleeve back, and scrutinizes the marks.A confrontation follows.Vincent lies. The rip of fabric, a clatter of buttons as she tears his shirt open and he recoils, but not before she sees the proof of our bond.She interrogates the servants. All are loyal but one, and he spills that I was there nearly every day in her absence.He will suffer for his treachery. Slowly.Claudia holds Vincent prisoner until dinner, where he then turns the tables. But unlike her, he manages to squeeze answers out of his mother.My name. My previous occupation. And the accusations.Accusations that she made. Claudia always did love that bloody Queen more than me.But Vincent does not seem concerned about that in the least. No, he only wants to know if I am his father.Good. Though I am sure that subject will be breached later, it gives me time. Time to ease him into it, to make him understand.Claudia instructs the maid to shoot me should I make an appearance. And to contact the Yard if she fails to return.I smirk, for I shall be expecting them. And when they search the premises, they will find nothing.She rides hard to my shop, until her horse foams at the mouth and sweat gleams on his coat.As for the rest…
Well.
I know how her story ends.Cradling the back of her head, I dab my finger in the blood matting the hair at the base of her skull and smear it over the mourning locket that I made just for her, many years ago.The leading ribbon of the record dives, a river of memories flowing into the gilded vessel, coiling within like a serpent.With the seal of her blood locking her record into the pendant, I can keep her with me forever; never to know Heaven nor Hell, but an eternity reliving every moment of her life.I have only just tucked my beloved weapon away when I hear noise outside.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
An approaching horse. More late night visitors?A familiar scent slowly draws near.
Damn it.
I rush to dump a vial of frankincense into the coffin with her and close it, then toe the pieces of sliced candles underneath my desk and out of sight before settling into the chair behind it, sucking my finger clean of blood.The boy walks through the door, pinning me with a cold stare."You…" He swallows. "Your name is Cedric. And you're my father." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ When a weapon unlike anything I have ever seen materializes in Undertaker's hand, any shred of doubt I could have possibly harbored regarding his claim of being Death itself evaporates.A skull wearing a crown of thorns, a curving ladder of ribs and a column of spine. And at the base of the skull's cranium, a wicked blade gleams.He twirls the scythe and with a downwards slash, a glowing green gash opens like a wound in air, throbbing with an unearthly energy."What.. what is that?""A portal. A means of travel for Death."He grips one glowing edge and pulls it aside, like a thin curtain between worlds, and I am stunned to see my armoire and bed canopy on the other side.Somehow, he has opened a window into my bedroom."After you, love." He says, motioning to the strange doorway."It… won't hurt, will it?" I ask, noting how it pulses with a chartreuse green light, not unlike a flickering fire."Not at all." He smiles. "I promise."Cautiously, I step through the seam. It feels like a veil of mist passing over my face."You are indeed my blood," Undertaker laughs quietly as he follows. "Any other mortal would have become violently ill. Tilts their sense of gravity, from what I understand."When I see my pillows still stuffed under my sheets, a wave of anxiety crashes over me."Love?"I swallow, then yank the pillows out and rearrange my bed. I am quick to also haul the rope of sheets up and back inside from my window and begin untying them. Anything to keep my hands and mind occupied.But in the end, I still have to ask."What is going to happen to us? Are you going to be sent to the gallows? Will-"Undertaker then pulls me against him, softly petting the top of my head. "Shhh, love. I wish I knew. But the only thing for you to do is to maintain your denial. That will fortify our defense. Worst case scenario, we both may be visited by Scotland Yard.""The Yard?!" I nearly shout."Shhh." He hushes me again. "They have nothing on either of us.""But what if my mother shows them the marks?""Trust me. She won't."He sounds so certain."How can you be so sure?""It risks ruining the Phantomhive name." He clarifies. "And as long as you play your hand, the Yard will only see you as a respectable young noble waving off ridiculous accusations from an overprotective mother. As for myself, a feeble old man who enjoys his job a bit too much.""I…" He sits on the bed, and I crawl into his lap. "I don't want them to take you away from me.""They won't, kitten. They won't." He lies back on the bed with me on top of him, wrapped safely in his arms and a cloud of soothing pheromones. "No matter what happens, I promise that I will never leave you.""Will you stay with me tonight? At least until I fall asleep?""Yes." He agrees, then kisses me. "Until you fall asleep. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ "M' Lord?"Emiline gently shakes me awake."Mhm? What time is it?" I mutter groggily."My apologies, sir. It is half past eight. The Yard is here, and would like to speak with you."Damn."Why?"I know why, of course. My mother must have contacted them to pressure me into a confession."You- ...your mother." She licks her lips. "She did not return home last night. So as instructed, I sent for them."That answer sends my heart somersaulting into my throat."What? She left last night?!""Yes, M' Lord."I do not need to ask where she went. Because I know. One of the servants must have betrayed me and told her that Undertaker was here during my heat.In fact, I would be willing to wager it was the man who took me to Undertaker's parlor last night."When did she leave?""Around eight thirty pm, I believe."I must have reached town around the stroke of nine. A horse with a single rider travels much faster than one loaded down with two. If Undertaker had killed her, he would not have had much, if any time to clean up the scene, for she would have arrived merely a half hour before I, at most.And if she were there, I would think that I would have smelled something, but through the clouds of incense, his overpowering pheromones, formaldehyde, death and ashes, it is nearly impossible to detect anything else.Even with his supernatural abilities… it doesn't seem as though he would have...
No. Don't be so naive.
I remind myself that he is like the ant-mimicking spider. A predator. Regardless of my feelings for him, I would be a fool to give Cedric the benefit of the doubt, knowing that my mother went to his shop with the sole intention of arresting or even murdering him.And an animal, no matter how tame, will lash out when cornered."Did you tell them anything? Anything at all?""No, M' Lord. T' was not my place.""Thank you. If they speak to you … say nothing." I tell her. "Please. If they cause trouble for you, I will deal with them."She bows her head. "I understand, M' Lord." ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Emiline trails behind me as I come downstairs to find two inspectors waiting for me."Apologies for waking you, M' Lord. If you would be so kind as to answer our questions, we will be on our way.""Very well.""Do you know where your mother has gone? It is our understanding that she did not return home last night.""No. She and I… we had an argument at dinner." I admit. "Afterwards, I went upstairs to my room, and have not seen her since.""If I may ask, what did the argument involve?" He presses."My father.""Ah. I see.""I am certain she just needed a chance to clear her head. I was…" As I realize our previous exchange may be my final words with her, my throat clenches like a fist. "I was rather unkind to her."Sniffling pathetically, I wipe my eyes, and Emiline passes me a handkerchief."Do you know where she may have gone after your argument?""Um… the meadow, around three miles from here, is her favorite place. She may have gone there." I lie."Has she spoken to anyone else recently, that you know of?"
Dare I…?
"The Undertaker." I point them in his direction. "We recently spoke with the Undertaker."If he did kill her, perhaps they will find some sort of evidence in his shop."The Undertaker? Of London's east end?""Yes."The officers look at each other. "And why did she speak with him, if it is not too bold to inquire?""He works as an informant for my mother. We visited his parlor yesterday to examine a few bodies."They jot down the information on a notepad."Very well. We shall conduct a search of the meadow and speak to the Undertaker. Worry not, M' Lord, she will be found."But their assurance is a shallow thing. An empty promise that they have uttered a thousand times before.
'No. She won't.'
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ There is a violent pounding at my shop door.As I expected, the Yard has arrived to investigate the premises."Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm coming." I grumble loudly enough for them to hear from the other side. Donning my elderly persona, I take my sweet time shuffling to the door.
The door is unlocked, you fucking morons.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" Two stern faces glare back at me from the doorway. One pulls a paper from his coat pocket. "We have a warrant." A nearly undetectable waver in his voice. A lie. "Step aside.""Oh?" I feign confusion. "A warrant for what?"They shove their way past me."The Queen's Guard Dog has gone missing. You were named as a suspect." Another lie.
The old good copper, bad copper routine, hm?
He's playing the bad copper, hoping I'll sputter something in defense that he can then twist and use against me."What my partner means is that you are a person of interest, at the moment." The other says."The Queen's…? Do you mean Ms. Claudia?""Yes. You were on a first name basis with her?" Good copper asks."Indeed. I've served the Phantomhive family for years as an informant. They both came to see me just yesterday, in fact. Wanted to have a look at a few guests that I have in my care."The dark-haired one looks at the other. They move off into a corner and whisper to one another."That corroborates the boy's story. Look at him, Banksy, he's even older than I am. Honestly, what chance would he stand against the Queen's Guard Dog?" Good copper says."There was no trace of her in the meadow. This is the only lead we-""You're welcome to poke around the crematorium if you would like." I interrupt, then snap into a biscuit. "I can show you the guests in storage, too. But I assure you, Ms. Claudia isn't among them, if that is what you're wondering.""That isn't nec-""Yes, in fact." Bad copper cuts in. "We should at least cover all of our bases, you understand.""Of course. Care for a biscuit?" I offer, holding the tray out. "Still fresh from the oven.""Certainly." Good copper takes one. "Thank you."Bad copper waves dismissively, so I set the tray down."Then come with me, please."I lead them into the back and slowly wheel the cadaver out to them. "Here's the first. Though I must warn you, this one gave Ms. Claudia and the poor boy quite a fright."The dark-haired one lifts the sheet and then recoils with a grimace."There are two more, if you'd like to see them. They're incomplete as well."The men examine the other two, and sniff about the crematorium, but come up with only a few teeth and bone shards, of course. Nothing concrete."That'll do for now." Bad copper mutters. "We'll contact you if we need to investigate further.""You're always welcome. But I do hope we will not have to cross paths again till it's time to fit you for one of me coffins, old chap. Heheh."He visibly shudders before closing the door, and I eavesdrop on the tail end of their conversation."I heard he was mad. Must be from handling mangled corpses like those on a daily basis. But I don't feel like he is our man. I suppose you were right.""Too true, too true. A feeble old man besting the Queen's Guard Dog? Woman or not, that would never stand up to scrutiny.""Indeed. This was a dead end."I smile to myself. Were they not so certain that someone like myself was incapable, they may have taken notice of the scorched skull weighing down the papers on my desk.And the rest of her will be done baking in the next fifteen minutes or so. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Emiline halts the horses before the Undertaker’s parlor. “I will wait right here for you,” She says. “Do be careful, M’ Lord.”Nodding, I exit the carriage. I waited a few hours to ensure the Yard would no longer be about when I dropped in.The bell rings as I enter, but I can hardly hear it over the blood rushing in my ears. Undertaker sits upon a coffin, sanding a large, oblong piece of wood into a strange shape.“Where is my mother?” I get straight to the point. “And don’t you dare lie to me. I know she came here last night.”He stills, and is quiet for a moment before he sets it all aside.“She’s gone, love.” “Gone…?”“Yes.” He murmurs with a sense of finality that tells me I will never see her again. “Gone.” It feels as though the breath has been crushed from my lungs.“You… you killed her,” I say. “didn’t you?”Undertaker rises from his seat with a sigh. I watch his fingers curl into fists at his side.“Yes.” My stomach lurches. The heat of biles rises in my throat, but I swallow it back down. “Why?” Perhaps I want to hear an excuse; if only to give her death some sort of meaning. Or even absolve myself of the blame I know I share in this for playing games I had no business being involved in.“I was left with little choice. She came here last night. To kill me.”“You can’t be killed!”“Physically… no.” He calmly agrees. “But she would have taken you away from me.”Granted, I did not want that either. But I never thought he would go so far as to murder my mother. “And that, Vincent, is a fate worse than death.” He continues. “Not only for I, but you as well. Once an Alpha and Omega are bonded as we are, separation is unimaginable agony. It leaves a festering hole in your heart, like a dry socket. Why do you think you cannot last longer than a few days without seeing me?”
Powerless.
I am powerless. Were I to reveal the truth of his nature to the Yard, they would think me mad. As far as they are concerned, he is but a feeble old man, too weak to fight off the Queen’s Guard Dog. He will not be hung, nor jailed for what he has done.There will be no justice for my mother. Which leaves me with only one course of retaliation. To take a pound of flesh myself, on her behalf.I draw my sword. Undertaker raises a brow, tipping his head back a little.“Fight me.” I growl. “I will not.” My head is buzzing. A wasp's nest, furious and chaotic. “Fight me, god damn you!”“Do as you will, love.” He dares me.“You think I won’t?”“Vincent, you could stab me a thousand times, but I will still bleed nothing but love for you.”“Then bleed.” I charge him, arm swinging back in preparation to skewer the bastard. He stands stone still. Just as I am mere inches away, all of my muscles lock, jolting me to a screeching halt.
Alpha. Protect, not harm. Love him. Need him.
The bite on my shoulder throbs. A sudden flood of memories spill into my mind. His arms, like hot steel around me. A comforting scent, a crooning voice.
“Beautiful boy.”
“My sweet, little love.”
“And I love you , kitten.” He murmurs, breath softly stirring my hair. My instincts betray me, sedate me, spread my rage thin.
Stop.
I try to lunge forth anyway to gut him, but it feels as though my limbs are filled with cement. I can only point the weapon in his direction, arm trembling.“God damn it!” Despair rocks through me, throat clenching like a fist as tears threaten to spill.“You can’t do it, can you?” But there is no mockery in his voice. Only a sort of hollow sadness. “Do you think it would make you feel better? To see your Daddy bleed?”I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Undertaker waits in silence as I stand before him, sword aimed for his center.“And so what if it would? It doesn’t matter,” I say at last, but my voice cracks. “It will not bring my mother back.”I shake as a grizzled sob breaks free- and with it, it feels as though my chest is being ripped in two.“If it will make you happy, I will give it to you. Hate me or not, I love you, Vincent.” He says, and slowly reaches for the trembling blade, steadying it. “I love you so very much.”Morbidly curious, I let him, watching numbly as his fingers curl around its length, sharp edges biting into his flesh. Crimson stripes race over his lily white skin. “Enough to bleed for you. To kill for you.”He pulls the weapon forward, and his robes crinkle as the point presses into his core. “And if I could,” The wet squelch of soft flesh parting for ruthless steel. A part of me roars with satisfaction, primal and cruel, but then it is drowned out by alarm as my Omegan instincts begin screaming .Undertaker scrapes in a sharp gasp.
Alpha is in pain Help him Help Him HELP HIM
A choked groan clogs his throat. The steady drip- drip- drip of his blood puddling on the floor.“Stop.” I whisper hoarsely. “Stop-”He doesn’t. Instead, Undertaker takes the sword deeper. My heart hammers against my ribs.Panic rips through me in a sickening wave. The air thickens, dusky and metallic.
“Please!”
The hilt of the blade closes in, until it is flush with his cassock. A brassy gleam against stark black. I release the grip as though it has burned me.“I… would die for you.” The vow shudders out of him. Scarlet trickles from the corner of his mouth. I swallow around the peach pit in my throat, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Undertaker reaches for my collar, drags me forward like a dog and crushes his mouth to mine. The copper of his blood rings over my tongue, sharp and sweet and it- it feels dirty. It feels wrong. A wretched and defiled echo of what we once were. He did this. He ruined us. Ruined everything. Everything.Recoiling, I jerk out of his grasp, and spit in his face. Undertaker huffs a laugh, lips curling in a tired smile. Wiping the gelatinous glob off, stained pink with his blood, he then licks it from his palm with a hum of depraved gratification.He collapses to his knees, and now I can see the end of my sword, shining with a patina of viscera, jutting out from his back. The sight of him so gravely wounded makes something inside of me wail and shrivel into a dark husk of despair, and something else gnashes its fangs, wants to twist and wrench the blade until he howls for mercy.“Goodbye,” I hiss. “forever.”I turn and head for the door, leaving him impaled.“You will be back. When your heat comes, you shall return to me, love. Whether you like it or not.”“Like Hell I will!” I whirl around with a furious snarl. “I’ll take suppressants. I’ll seek out another Alpha-”A fierce ignition in his gaze, and his grin turns cruel and jagged. “You will do no such thing. Your body craves me, and me alone.” I storm out of the shop.I knew it. I knew he killed her. Thinking it was one thing, but hearing him admit it… the truth is made of flesh and bone, and carries enough weight to cave my chest in.Once safely hidden away in the carriage, I break down.“She’s dead,” I croak. “She’s dead.”Emiline pales, is still for a moment as she lets it sink in, then whips the horses into motion.My mother is dead. My father, my lover , is a murderer. …And the only one I have left. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The following days are slow to bleed into one another. None of it seems real. The colors of the world around me have dimmed, as though I am seeing through a shroud of black and gray.By the fourth night, I am sobbing into my pillow, tears diluting the lingering scent there. It still smells faintly like him , but not enough. Not enough to placate this cavernous ache of loss, which leaves me feeling as though all of the meat has been carved out of me. Go to Alpha. He will hold, he will comfort. My instincts demand.But I cannot bring myself to. Because I know my absence hurts him, too, and he deserves far worse for what he has done. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ When Emiline hears me cry, she brings me a kettle of hot tea. “Will you be taking your dinner in here as well, M’ Lord?” “Yes.” She passes me a steaming cup. “Thank you.”“Is there anything special you would like for me to prepare for you?”I know she asks because she has noticed that over the past four days, I have barely touched any food at all. I am growing weak, and she is becoming more and more concerned.“A risotto, perhaps.” That would be easy to swallow and digest.“Very well, M’ Lord. I will bring it to you as soon as it is ready.” She says. “Afterwards, if you do not mind, I will dust your room and change your bedsheets as well.”Normally, this would have been done during the morning hours. But because my mother fired all of the maid staff before she disappeared, Emiline is terribly shorthanded, as I have yet to hire more.“Yes, thank you. And I will place an advertisement in the newspaper tomorrow to hire more help.” I tell her. “I’m sorry that I have yet to do so.”“Think nothing of it, M’ Lord. You’re in mourning. Take all the time you need.”Honestly, I do not know what I would do without her. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A week has come to pass. One morning, I awaken to the smell of ginger and nutmeg. I sit up in bed to find a plate of bone-shaped biscuits on my nightstand. Curls of steam rise from the little baked treats, still hot. A piece of parchment is tucked beneath the plate.
A strangled sob chokes out of me. Undertaker must have left mere moments ago, and I don’t know whether I am more angry that he dared to set foot here or because I missed the opportunity to be awake when he no doubt left a kiss on my brow.Both, I decide, then scream into my pillow.Through the tears, I eat every single one of them, savoring their taste and how it reminds me of his kiss, warm and sweet.When they are gone, I cry even harder, sickened with myself for so eagerly accepting his gift.The thought of forcing myself to vomit occurs to me, but I quickly dismiss that idea as I begin to grow drowsy. It was the most I have eaten in… I don’t recall how long.For the first time this week, I sleep soundly with a full stomach.Emiline does not wake me until noon. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ When I step out of the hot bath, I stand before the mirror and must swallow back a fresh wave of tears when I see that Undertaker’s marks have faded significantly. His brushstrokes are washing away. I no longer feel like his masterpiece, but a half-finished painting cast aside by the artist, deemed unworthy of completing now that his muse has abandoned him.Will he go on to create a new work, upon a fresh canvas? Bile crawls up my throat as I imagine his fingers, his tongue stroking over someone else, bruising and laving color into a stranger’s flesh.He wouldn't…Would he?I feel a pang of regret for telling him that I would seek out another Alpha. It was cruel, and untrue- but I would have uttered anything in that moment if I thought it would hurt him half as much as he hurt me. Still, I cannot fathom anyone else touching me in such a way.My fingers skate the bite on my shoulder, the only mark that has still retained its color palette. It has begun to turn pink and shiny with scar tissue, and will remain once the rest have disappeared.The artist’s signature. A permanent reminder that I am his, shaped by his hands. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The two inspectors from the Yard drop by the next morning as a standard follow-up.“We have found no trace of her. The Undertaker was a dead end.” The dark-haired one crosses his legs as he sits across from me at the dinner table while Emiline pours him and his partner a cup of tea. “What are you not telling us, M’ Lord?” My heart plummets.“I- I beg your pardon?”“Something is amiss here.” He meets my gaze. “And I think you know something.”Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants legs, I swallow. I was not at all prepared for them to accuse me , of all people.“If I may,” Emiline steps in. “The young Master here was unable to do much of anything during this time. He was bound to his room for over a week. In fact, the only time he left was to join his mother in speaking with the Undertaker, and even that was done with great difficulty. But it was part of his training, so he had little choice.”“Bound to his room, you say?”“Yes,” She looks to me for permission to continue. I nod. “M’ Lord presented… as an Omega .” Emiline says, and the men sputter over their tea. “As for their argument, M’ Lord presented the opposite as his father, and was rather confused and upset about it. With all due respect, I cannot stand for you accusing him of having had anything to do with M ‘Lady’s disappearance when he could hardly even get out of bed.” She says. “The Undertaker is an Alpha, from what I understand, and I am certain he can confirm that what I am telling you is indeed true.”“We- we humbly beg your pardon, M’ Lord.” The opposing inspector stammers, blushing. “We were unaware of your condition at the ti-”I suddenly rise from my seat.“My condition should not be in any way relevant to this case. My mother disappears without a trace, and you accuse her 14 year-old son of having something to do with it?” I say with righteous indignation. “Tell me, what would I stand to gain from her death? While I am soon to be granted her title, she did not even have the opportunity to finish training me for such a deadly position. A title is bloody worthless if I am not adequately trained to survive bearing its weight, would you not agree?”The officers are both speechless, and red in the face with embarrassment. “Now, if you have no further questions for me today, Emiline will show you out.”Once they are out of the manor, I let out a shuddering breath of relief. Emiline returns to my side, head bowed low.“Please forgive me, M’ Lord, I know you said to say nothing, bu-”I throw my arms around Emiline. “Thank you. Thank you, Emiline.” Stunned, she is slow to return my embrace. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Two weeks. Two weeks have passed since I last saw the Undertaker.Emiline joins me on an outing, now that the manor has help once again. It will be good for me to get out and about, she says.But there are whispers on the street.“I haven’t seen the Countess’ son in nearly a month.”“His mother disappeared, what did you expect? The poor boy is in mourning.”“He’s so young to have to bear such a large title.”“I’ve heard nothing in regards to a service, have you?” People are also beginning to talk about why I haven’t had a memorial service for my mother yet. Most assume it is because I am still holding out hope that she will come home. But it will raise more questions if I do not hold one, and soon. I am left with little choice but to arrange a ceremony and contact a stonesmith to have a headstone erected in her honor. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The two inspectors from the Yard return that evening.I sit, numb and silent in my velvet chair as they inform me that they will declare my mother dead by the end of the night. Solemnly, I nod. Emiline thanks them on my behalf and kindly shows them out.It will be only a matter of time before I am summoned by the Queen to claim my mother’s title as Guard Dog.I am left with little choice but to bitterly accept that she will never have justice. Her killer walks a free man, and the worst part is that my heart and body positively scream for him every moment that I am awake. And when I sleep, he haunts my dreams. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Five days later, the memorial service is held in Chapel Royal.The Queen sent me her condolences in a letter and apologized for being unable to attend, as she is currently delegating with German officials. She mentions wanting to pass the title on to me within the next three months.Three months. Three bloody months to prepare for what I should have been training for years ago.Letting out a bitter sigh, I then spend hours shaking hands with strangers, and talking to people from my youth that I hardly remember, as well as receiving flowers and sympathy gifts.The hour grows late, and I am weary, to say the least, and wish to retire. But there are still well-wishers coming and going. Resting my cheek on my palm, I get comfortable in my chair. The scent of shaved pine and night blooming flowers. A rustle of robes.I jolt, realizing that I must have momentarily dozed off. Blinking rapidly, I find that a black rose has been laid amongst the lilies arranged around the painting of my mother. A hot sun of anger rises, burns in my chest.I leap from my chair to chase after his scent.Down the church hallway I run, shoving past attendees until I run directly into Emiline.She stumbles, gripping my shoulders, eyes searching my face. “M’ Lord? Are you quite alright?”“He’s here,” I hiss. “I can smell him.” Behind her, the lavatory door creaks open. I tear from her grasp and charge towards it, slamming through the door.My pants echo around me as I stand in the center of the dead silent room.“Where are you?” I snarl.The door creaks again, and I whirl around to see a black-nailed hand curl around the edge, pushing it closed.“Hello, kitten.” Undertaker says softly. Alpha. My instincts rejoice, but my heart roars with rage. How dare he show himself at my mother’s ceremony.I rush towards him, drawing my arm back to slap him.But he catches my wrist, and instead gently lays my palm over his cheek.“How I’ve missed you.” He says, eyes closing in bliss, and I am frozen, chest heaving.His pheromones envelop me in a soothing cloud, once again dousing the flare of fury in my chest. As when a dislocated bone is forcibly popped back into socket, it is agonized relief to be in his presence again.But I need to be angry, and this bond between us rips the fangs from my wrath. “I hate you,” My voice cracks as I begin to tear up, then yank my arm away and shove him back. “I hate y-”I cry out as he suddenly spins me around to bend me over the counter. “Don’t touch m-” I growl, but then he dips his head down and as sucks at my mating gland, a moan rips itself from my lungs. Oh god. My bones liquefy as unwarranted pleasure floods my veins.“Shhh, love. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that things had to be this way.” He gathers my wrists, pinning them to the mirror in front of me. “I missed you so much,” He murmurs, lapping the tender flesh and pressing his hips into my ass. “Did you miss your Daddy?”
Yes yes yes Alpha came for, is here to take care of-
NO, my rational mind cuts in, roars above my Omegan instincts.A broken sound, something between a snarl and a whine escapes my throat. I want to claw and bite in defiance, but I can barely form a coherent thought as he hones in on my weakest point.“I know you’re angry, love. You’ve every right to be. But I couldn’t stand to be away from you for a moment longer.”His tongue traces circles round my gland, and I am pinned in place like a butterfly, spread for his display.A knock resounds through the room.“M’ Lord? Are you alright in there?” Emiline calls.Undertaker growls, eyes flashing murderously to the door. No.“Don’t- don’t hurt her. Please.” I plead. “Why shouldn’t I?” He huffs a cruel laugh. “Your mother ordered her to shoot me, you know.”“Emiline is loyal to me. And when the Yard came, she said nothing to them. Nothing at all.”She knocks again.“Ah, so it was you who pointed them in my direction, hm? Oh, kitten…” He tsks, and the floor to my stomach drops out as I realize what I just inadvertently admitted to. “That was cruel, to try and throw your Daddy to the wolves. But like mother, like son, I suppose.”If he kills Emiline, I will have no one. No one, but him.“Please, I’ll do as you want, just don’t hurt her.” I beg. “I’m sorry, Daddy, please -”A sharp breath from him as I call him what he loves most. “Oh? And what will you do for me, love? What is her life worth to you?”The door then opens, and Undertaker disappears in a flutter of black, leaving me shaking and panting in front of the mirror as Emiline peers inside. “Is everything alright, M’ Lord?”My breath shudders, and I open my mouth to respond, then suddenly vomit into the sink. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A storm roils overhead as my mother’s grave is marked. An empty coffin- purely symbolic in nature, is lowered in. Her body was never recovered, and yet six feet of soil is shoveled to make room for it. I wonder if the earth can feel the dry socket we have carved out of her, and if it mirrors the aching hollow in my heart right now.I lay the lilies on the sodden earth before her headstone, and watch as their immaculate petals are muddied from swan white to ruddy brown.The crowd disperses, seeking cover from the downpour. I am chilled and shaken by the time I crawl into the coach, and the rolling thunder lulls me into a dreamless sleep. Emiline draws a hot bath for me once we return home, and I force myself to swallow a few bites of risotto before retiring for the night.For hours, I toss and turn. The incident in the bathroom cycles through my mind again and again. It makes me sick, how helpless I was as he bent me over the sink. Pliant, submissive, all just from his mouth.Those wicked lips and tongue; caresses like hot, wet velvet, designed to render me powerless. What was I to do beneath him, but melt?Much to my dismay, my cock stirs. Because as angry as I was, it still felt good. Comforting in its familiarity, a reprieve from my sorrow, however brief.
Alpha. His touch. His love. Need it.
I retrieve the jade phallus from the box.But it’s so cold. Lifeless as I slide it into place. Ruthlessly hard as I grind down over it and…I hate it.Because it isn’t him. It won’t hold me, lace fingers with mine, whisper into my hair and-God, it nauseates me, how much I actually hate myself for even thinking of being held by him right now, after what he did.My erection wilts. Flopping over onto my side, I pull my pillow into my arms and sob.Everything is wrong, so, so wrong. My life is a shattered mirror, and I do not know where to even begin in picking up the pieces. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
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A huge thank you to wingeddeanmon for this lovely gift! A moodboard for Plaything 💖 Also, if you get the chance, read their fic "Visage". 😏
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I pace around my shop like a caged animal.If I push Vincent too far, all of this will blow up in my face. And I may have already crossed a line with him today.He needs time. Time heals, and with it, comes forgiveness and eventually acceptance. And while I quite literally have all the time in the world, I can sense every second of his distress through our bond, and my instincts are clawing at me to tend to him.
‘Omega needs. Cries for.’
“What would you do in this case, my dear?” I turn to Claudia’s skull, which grins back at me.Grasping her locket, I connect to her record and let it play in my mind’s eye.When he was upset, she would leave the boy be, until he came to her. Checking in occasionally, non-invasively. Leaving a gift outside his door, just so he knew she was thinking of him.“The boy already has a priceless gift from me- two, in fact.”He could not possibly understand the significance of the first. And I fear that yet another grand gesture would mean little to him in his state.No, unfortunately for me, I will have to keep my distance for now.But when his next heat comes…
“I’ll take suppressants, I’ll seek out another Alpha-”
A growl rolls through my chest. Vincent inherited his mother's sharp tongue, and that little threat cut to the quick, regardless of how hollow.“He will remember who he belongs to. And if not…”Well.I will simply have to remind him. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Two days later, I ask to be taken into town.The footman opens the carriage door for me, but I hesitate in stepping inside.“Where to, M’ Lord?”I swallow, and consider backing out. I could just as easily ask to be fitted for a new suit or to purchase a spare walking stick-
No.
I need to do this. The only way to beat him is at his own game. I must be as unpredictable and manipulative as he.Blowing out a breath of determination, I tip my chin up.“The Undertaker.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Steeling my nerves, I draw a deep breath as the carriage stops before the mortician’s parlor.I never wanted to come back here. But if I am to protect Emiline, it is better that I face him on my own terms and strike first before he can make another move.“You asked what her life is worth to me.” I say as I walk in to find Undertaker polishing a coffin. When he turns to look at me, I roll up my sleeve and pull a letter opener from my inner coat pocket. It's a sharp and cold bite of steel, ripping the blade down my wrist. “So let me be perfectly clear- if you hurt Emiline, I will hurt myself.”Undertaker rushes forward to tear the letter opener from my hand and tosses it aside.He seals his palm over the wound, applying pressure, trying to stop the flow. I smell a spike of panic on him. “What in the bloody Hell are you d-”“You think you’re so clever in trying to manipulate me,” I laugh in his face as blood leaks through his fingers in hot pulses, red stripes racing down my arm. “But honestly, what would you do without me? If I die, you will be all alone. You’re scared.”I can practically taste the venom dripping from my tongue, bitter and black.“I see you for what you are now.” I hiss, and his lips part in shock. “You don’t love me. You just need me.”Something vulnerable shimmers in his eyes, fear, perhaps, and I feel a spark of cruel triumph. Undertaker releases me, letting me bleed.
I’ve got you now.
“If I learn that any harm comes to Emiline and I even think you are responsible, I will ruin myself before you can do a damned thing about it.”Then a new scent rolls off of him. One I’ve never smelled before. It’s scorched, dark.
Anger.
I wait for him to hit me. To yell. Something.Instead, he whirls around and rips open a drawer to his desk, grabbing a bottle of alcohol and a roll of gauze.“Sit down.” He says, frowning. “I need to dress this for you so it doesn’t get infected.”Hesitantly, I comply with a hateful glare.I know what he is doing, though; pretending to care in order to lower my guard.Taking me by the wrist, he gently extends my arm, then shakes the liquid out over the wound, and I wince from how badly it burns. Blood mixes with the alcohol and drips from the gash in a pink wash.“Had the blade gone any deeper, you would need stitches.” He says as though it were a mere accident, then winds the gauze tightly around it and ties it off.“There is something you need to see, Vincent.” Undertaker sighs. “Come.”Undertaker grabs me by the opposite forearm, dragging me behind him as he guides me into the morgue.I consider resisting- but if he truly wanted to hurt me he would have already.He strides to the back wall, and lifts a candelabra.The wall groans, then shifts with a rumble, revealing a hidden doorway.Undertaker removes a lock and a tangle of chains from around the knob, and I follow as we then descend into a dimly lit cellar. The stench of rotting flesh, chemicals, and damp stone is even more rank down here, and it stings my sinuses.My eyes strain to sketch out my surroundings. Once they adjust to the monochrome darkness, I can make out multiple autopsy tables neatly aligned against the back wall. Undertaker lights a candelabra and leads me to the last one, and I notice the sheet draped over it is shifting slightly. A multitude of tubes stem from whatever is under the cover, and are connected to various containers of liquid, some of them bubbling.Undertaker suddenly yanks the sheet back.It’s a corpse- dark, mottled skin and milky, blind eyes assure me of that.Then that dead gaze rolls toward me, and the floor to my stomach drops out.Somehow, it- she is alive. Her arms and torso are strapped down with thick leather restraints. Fingers restlessly scratch into the steel table, nails bloodied and chipped.“A former opium addict. She died of organ failure, so I replaced her kidneys. I’ve yet to fully revive her circulatory system and complex brain functions, though. But she should be complete within the next few days.”"He was accused of unspeakable crimes. Multiple murders and illicit human experimentation.” My mother’s voice echoes in my mind.“As you can see, whatever you do to yourself, I can fix, little Phantomhive.” He touches the corpse’s arm, drawing my gaze to the ring of stitches encircling it, indicating that it was once severed.I may as well have given myself a mere papercut.“However, I do love you,” He insists. “So if Emiline truly means that much to you, I will spare her.”But I find no relief in his promise. Not when I am staring at death, and it is somehow looking back at me.If I die, will he…Will he dig up my corpse and reanimate me, forcing me back into his arms as his plaything?I jolt as the corpse’s jaw drops open with a wheezing moan, and there’s a dull, meaty thudding. The sheet crests and ripples like ocean waves, and the table rattles. Undertaker then removes the cloth entirely, and I see that her legs have been…Have been sawn off just above the knees. The skin there has been hemmed like cloth, sealing the amputation closed. The nubs flop uselessly as she tries to get up, but cannot.My heart crawls into my throat. Swallowing thickly, I look at Undertaker. An unspoken question passes between us.“So she can never escape.” Undertaker answers, locking his eyes with mine.Icy fear trickles over my scalp and goosebumps erupt across my skin as I realize then that not only did I underestimate just how far he is willing to go, but I am completely out of my depth.He truly is a madman. A madman with the power of God at his fingertips.And there is no running from him, in this life, or in the next. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
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I can make out Vincent’s face paling as my newest doll struggles within her binds. She has a bit of a defiant streak. Strapping her down and taking her legs was a necessary measure to ensure she wouldn’t just up and wander out of the shop.The boy swallows, then turns on his heel to stride out of the room.I start to reach for him, but then allow my fingers to curl closed at my side.How I want to grab Vincent, drag him back in here and force him to stay with me. Stay where he belongs. With his Daddy, his Alpha. Even if I have to bind and gag the rebellious little Omega. He would look so pretty tied up, squirming and helpless.Alas, I let him go, and hear the door to my shop slam.Blatant and cruel force will not be an effective tool in disciplining him. No, he requires a stealthier approach. I will have to slip under his defenses like water. Make the boy come to me, and willingly. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I grant Vincent three full days to come to terms with his position in all of this. While I would do anything for him, my son needs to understand that he will not succeed in holding himself hostage against me.I wait till the witching hour to portal into the Phantomhive manor, a hot plate of biscuits in hand. My little love was looking rather thin when he last dropped by. He must not be eating well.As expected, it is dark as pitch in the dining hall- but I do not smell the pale smolder of cooling candle wax.Strange.The air is thick with an eerie silence, absent of breath or heartbeat.I ascend the stairs and stride to my little love’s bedroom, only to find his bed still made and the armoire doors wide open, revealing that it is empty.His scent in here is but an echo, absent of warmth.
He didn’t…?
A spire of moonlight beams through the velvet curtains, illuminating a note lying in wait on his pillow. I set down the plate of biscuits and pick up the parchment to squint at the words, written largely enough for me to read even with my piss-poor eyesight.
Vincent ran from me.Rage bubbles hot up into my throat. My jaw clenches around a snarl.In an instant I find my fist crashing through the mirror of his bureau. Pieces of glass spear between my bleeding knuckles.The boy is proving more difficult to control than I originally planned for. He’s smart.“A little too smart for his own bloody good.” I laugh dryly, chest heaving.Shards clink to the floor as the torn muscle begins to heal.
Smart and defiant, just like his Daddy.
I should have known that he would fight me every step of the way.In that moment, I imagine all the ways in which I could force him to stay with me.Cold steel bars. Ropes scraping, burning across the flesh of those little bird-boned wrists. My clawed fingers closing around his throat.As tempting as that is, he is too beautiful, too precious to me to marr permanently.Blood steadily drips from my fist until the cuts seal themselves.Drawing a deep breath, I rein in my fury. Collect myself.Vincent will not be hard to find. Claudia has at least three safehouses that I know of, and I would place my bet that they fled to the nearest one in Soho.But I need not chase him. I will know where he is soon enough.Through the blood, I can smell an underlying floral note still lingering in the room, faint but sweet. I pull open the drawer from where it emanates, and find a cherry wood box tucked in there, inlaid with red velvet.
Like a little coffin.
But it would seem that the black rose, my gift to him, is gone.He took it with him. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The safehouse is a cottage hunkering low into a grassy embankment as though trying to hide, but the misshapen slate roof is too large to go unnoticed beneath the low-hanging branches of shaggy willows.I can see the pitted, unevenly sized gray stones composing its walls. As the carriage rolls to a stop before it, the occasional flash of color – some steel blue, others olive or umber- emerge from the stones, reminding me of eyes trying to steal a glimpse of the world.The grasses of the surrounding rye fields ripple and crest like ocean waves. I watch the green hues lighten and deepen in the sun's rays.My mother told me about this place in Soho a few years ago, and said only she and Emiline know where it is hidden away.I can only hope the Undertaker will not be able to track us here.My footman unloads the carriage and takes my bags inside. The rest of the help has been paid and put up in a hotel with decent lodgings until further notice.Emiline collects her own suitcase, and handles it carefully as she brings it in with her.It’s musty in the cottage, and there are sheets draped over the furniture, protecting it from the thick layer of dust that had settled atop. No one has been here in years.“I apologize that it is not up to better standards, M’ Lord.” Emiline says.“No, it- it is perfectly fine.” I assure her. “It is safe, and that is all that matters to me.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I spend the next two weeks hiding out and reading in the only bedroom of the cottage while Emiline and the footman share the den.Privacy does not exist in such small quarters.I fear that I can be heard breathing in my bedroom.The maid and the footman must often disturb me to ask my permission to use the bathroom in case I need to relieve myself first.The kitchen is right down the hall, and the rattle of pots and pans as Emiline prepares meals makes it difficult to concentrate.I see now why the servants’ station was downstairs in the manor. I never realized just how much they had to do to tend to my daily needs until I heard it- collecting and boiling water for my baths and tea, washing and chopping vegetables, tenderizing meat, scrubbing dishes and the wash, setting the dinner table.And those are only the noises that I recognize.Experiencing first-hand how the common man must live on a day-to-day basis is humbling, and it makes me appreciate all the luxuries that I possess even more. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The legless corpse drags itself towards me. Milky, dead eyes fixate upon mine. Its yellowed fingernails rip from their beds as it crawls forward on its belly, skin sloughing off of its body. I try to scramble backwards, only to become entangled in silvery threads of hair.Fear seeps into my bones. Icy, heavy, paralyzing. My shriek is concave, a strangled sound in my throat. The hair then arranges itself into a sticky spider’s web, sealing my palms to the floor.Boot steps.Undertaker.The heel of his boot plants into the corpse’s back, stopping it in its tracks. Then the flesh of his face tightens, rips as his head suddenly splits apart down the middle, revealing the bear-trap jaws of the ant-mimicking spider.Undertaker then lunges for me, and I scream.“Young Master!”Emiline’s voice cuts through my terror like a knife, and my eyes snap open mid-thrash. I was tangled within the bed sheets.“There, there,” Gently, she helps unwind them from my limbs as I try to gather my wits.“It’s alright, it was only a nightmare.” She coos. My chest heaves and she draws me into her arms to hold me, but I am still shaking. “You’re safe.”Gradually, my breathing slows. Calms.Then I smell warm copper.“Y- you’re bleeding.” I say after she releases me. There are a few droplets of blood beading on the inside of her elbow.“Pardon?”“Your arm,” I point out.“Oh dear… I must have pricked myself with a needle. I was sewing just before I heard you calling out.”That’s… an odd place to have pricked herself.“I’m sorry. T-to have interrupted you.”“You’ve nothing to apologize for, M’ Lord. Would you like a chamomile tea?”“Yes.” I swallow. “Yes, thank you.”She leaves to prepare it.I glance down at the blood smudged on the sleeve of my nightshirt.For some reason… I don’t know why, but Emiline is lying to me. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
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I feel the ground tremble and shake in my bones as mountains fall.The earth is in her death throes.Oceans boil and shorelines recede as they dry, revealing mass graves of sea life that stretch on for as far as the eye can see.The night is torn and the sky catches fire as the stars above crash to earth.Afterwards, a dreadful silence follows. Only wind and dry thunder roar across the land.Minutes grow into hours, hours into days. Days into months. The seasons build the ages.Nearly a century passes before the rains return at last.Sprouts grow into forests. Lightning strikes the trees, turning giants into dust, fertile ashes feeding the soil below.Great beasts move in droves across the land, wary of predators, sharp of tooth and claw.Once again, the planet is reborn.And in rising from her ashes, her children begin their struggle to survive anew.I can’t help but wonder if this new generation will be as entertaining as the last. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
The Middle East
12 AD
I overlook the windswept hellscape, carved with dunes and jagged purple mountains, where dust and death reign supreme.And yet, somehow, in a remarkable feat of resilience, a little village has sprung from within the oasis here.There is a gentle tug on my robes."Angel?"The tongue in which the child at my feet speaks is primitive, archaic. She is so very small, underfed, undersized. The callouses on her fingers snag on the cloth. Such youthful hands should be velvety soft, but she works the fields with her mother, from dawn till dusk."Yes, little one?""Does Daddy still hurt, now that you have taken him?"Her father’s voice was hoarse from how he screamed until his throat bled. Cancer was eating him alive, and tumors hung from his body in doughy masses. I did what I could for him, which was unfortunately very little. Brewed a poppy seed tea to ease his pain so he could at least murmur goodbye to his wife and child before I freed him from his suffering."No, love. He does not hurt anymore." I tell her. “Come, night is falling. You’ll catch a chill out here.”I lead her by the hand back into the hut, and her face falls as she sees her father’s body again.Little jewels of tears still shimmer upon her lashes.Taking the linen sheet from the cot, I drape it over his face so she doesn’t have to see.“I know it hurts, little one. I’ll tell you a secret, though. When I collect a person, I find that they always wonder if their loved ones knew how dear they were to them. Your Daddy was no different. He may be gone, but his love for you is not. That is something you will keep with you. Always.”She sniffles, hiding her face in my robes. I pet the top of her head.“Did your mother say where she would like to have him laid to rest?”“U-under the cypress tree.” She murmurs, wiping her eyes. “That was his favorite place.”"I am sorry that we have so little to give," Her mother returns at that moment, and peels back the rawhide curtain to join us in the hut. "But please, take these prayer beads."The little child’s eyes alight at the jewelry and she reaches for them, taking them from her mother’s hands before I can kindly decline the offering.Remarkable. Even in their sorrow, they are so selfless.Smiling, I kneel so she may drape them round my neck.I do not require payment. Nor has anyone ever given me anything in return.This village has called me many names. Bringer of eternal sleep. Life’s shadow. Breath-stealer.But today, this little family deemed me an angel of Death.I rather like that one. Because what I bestowed upon them was mercy. The father was suffering, pleading for me to come months before his appointed time. I can honestly say it was the first time anyone was happy to see me.The beads are a shade of night, smooth like glass as I roll them between my fingers. Something expensive that she must have traded a milk goat for."Thank you, little love." I say to the child. “What is your name?”“Zaahira.”“For this gift, Zaahira, I will grant you much. I shall dig the grave for you, and at dawn, you shall find fifty pieces of silver on your dinner table. Use them sparingly, and you will eat well for many months.”A rich man died yesterday, and he won’t miss the money that will change the lives of these two.The mother drops to her knees before me next to her daughter, grateful tears falling upon my boots. Between sobs, she praises me as though I am God himself. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I find myself checking in on them from time to time.Samira’s crops are wilting without rain. I portal to the nearest river and collect several basins of water for them. After a few days, the little sprouts green and unfurl with leaves.I then steal a few hens from a king’s courtyard in a neighboring country and bring them to her.They have never had meat so plump. Or eggs, for that matter. Before long, the child’s health improves, and she begins to grow. She never fails to make me smile. And laugh. The wonders and mysteries of the world are still so new to her. I envy such innocence.From time to time turns into once a week.Then every day.A month later, I fell in love with Samira.Together, we raise Zaahira, and she is eventually married off to a spice tradesman from the far east.Twelve years later, Samira dies from the same aggressive cancer that killed her husband.I have never shed a tear for a mortal life. Until that day.How I wish I could have tucked away her memories, kept her with me forever. But our love was a gift, a ray of joy so bright in a world so bleak.They were the first of many mortals to ensnare my heart.While I know it is foolish to love someone I will outlive, when one lives as long as I, sees the things I have seen come to pass…Love is the only way to keep from going entirely mad. But humans are so ephemeral, and I, Death, am eternal. And regardless of how much it hurt to lose her, time is just as unforgiving, and marches on. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
The outskirts of Surrey, England
July 17th, 1850
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,
Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
And after many a summer dies the swan.
Me only cruel immortality
Consumes; I wither slowly in thine arms,
Here at the quiet limit of the world,
A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a dream
The ever-silent spaces of the East,
Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.
Alas! for this gray shadow, once a man—
So glorious in his beauty and thy choice,
Who madest him thy chosen, that he seem'd
To his great heart none other than a God!
I ask'd thee, "Give me immortality."
-Tithonus
“Kaburu.”
Lashing, braided leather shreds the flesh of Nyla’s legs, and she collapses.Unsatisfied, the bastard casts aside his whip. He picks up a club vined with barbed wire instead, and sneers down at my twin sister.“If you were smart, you’d shut up and stay down.” He snarls. “Though if there were any brains in that head at all, you never would have stolen from me in the first place.”“Kupe.” Nyla’s arms shake as she pushes herself up from the ground again, staggering to her feet. She is fearless, brave. A lioness. She will not die without facing our trafficker.Nyla clenches her fists, and spits blood at his feet. Throwing back her head, she laughs heartily, smiling at him, a flash of red-stained, broken teeth.
“Nguruwe aliyehasiwa.”
Castrated pig.
“Tch. Good thing I didn’t pay much for you.”My legs are broken. My ribs, too. Breathing is agony.“Take a good look, chattel. If any of you even think of trying to run again, this will be your fate.”The remaining slaves are forced to look on in horror as he pummels us into the ground.This time, he doesn’t stop.Pain screams from my every pore. I think…I think that I am dying.“Stop,” My plea is a guttural cry, but it is all I can manage.My fingers curl into the earth. If only I had enough strength to hurl dirt into the monster’s eyes, maybe it would give Nyla a split second to escape. But my fingers are growing strangely numb. Cold.She has always been stronger than me. A warrior. A leader.Which is why a brave few of us followed, and risked our lives aiding her efforts in helping others escape. This plantation began with forty eight of us. There are thirty three-left.He raises the club and brings it crashing down over her.Again. And again. And again.“Nyla!” I scream. Scream and scream.Scream till my throat is raw. Till nothing comes out.The master kicks me in the ribs again.“Her name is Charlotte.” He growls, then he grabs my face and turns me to look at what he did to her. I keep my eyes squeezed shut.‘Don’t look. Don’t look.’ I tell myself, because I don’t want her mangled body to be my last memory of her. When I refuse to comply, he spits in my face and drops me.She is quiet now, but I can still hear him beating her for show.I know then that my sister is dead.“Poor thing.” A voice, cool and rough. The nauseating thud of flesh and bone being pulverized fades into the background. “I’ve seen my share of injustice. Cruelty. But this… Bloody nightmare, it is.”My vision is watery, blurred. I raise my head as much as I can and blink away the tears.A massive shadow, so black it blots out the sun, moves towards me. His form thaws into definition.Black robes and claws. Flowing hair the color of burnished iron. His eyes… they glow like uranium glass. A great scythe of bone and thorns in his hand.My senses nosedive with dread.
“Kuleta kifo?”
“Yes.” He says. “Mimi ndiye Mletaji wa Kifo.”The realization, the truth, is a sickness creeping through me, pulling me down, down, down. My limbs turn to lead.I really am dying.“No, I’m not ready. My sister,” I gasp, cough. “Please-”“Shhh, love.” He kneels beside me, and wipes the streak of blood racing down my cheek, telling me I also have a head wound. “This body of yours is broken, but I can help you. And her. If you will let me.”“Yes,” I plead, and can taste red copper as it seeps into the seam of my mouth. “Yes, anything. I will do anything.”Trapped between the Devil and the deep blue sea, I made the choice to sell my soul to Death that day. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
Swahili translations:
Kaburu- a white person/ a barbarian
Kupe- a white collar worker who depends on the work of others to survive/ a tick
Kuleta kifo- Death bringer
Mimi ndiye Mletaji wa Kifo- I am the Bringer of Death
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
With three of us living in the cottage, and having on hand only what we could carry in the night, our supplies dwindle quickly.Emiline must go into town to purchase more.At first, I insisted that the footman go instead, but he unfortunately cannot read, so the list of what we need would be useless to him.For the sake of my peace of mind, Emiline tucks my mother’s spare pistol into her handbag.“Please, come back safely.”
Please. I don’t want to be alone.
“You needn’t worry. I will be careful, young Master.” Emiline says. “I promise.”While I want to believe her, something, though I can’t put my finger on precisely what…It doesn’t feel right. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I slip the needle into her arm and with a sigh of relief, she tips her head back as fresh life courses through her veins.“You cut it awfully close this time. Should the boy learn what you are…”I don’t need to finish.“I could not leave without raising his suspicions.”“Mm. Plan ahead, and it will be easier. Overserve a dish to run out of supplies sooner. Consider something he may need or want from the manor and offer to fetch it.” I suggest. “You have options, my dear. You don’t have to lie directly.”My dolls are incapable of lying. If I wanted to, I could try correcting that via brain surgery, but I find such a flaw to be rather useful.I’ve taught Emiline how to dance around the truth by answering correlating questions honestly. Or simply omitting information or gently misdirecting, but it’s a skill she has yet to fully master.Even so, she has proven to be my greatest work to date.After I bred and was found out by Claudia, I went to work creating a doll who would serve as not only my eyes and ears within the Phantomhive manor, but an ideal guardian for my child.Splicing her sister’s record into her own gave her nerves of steel and an assassin’s finesse. With her mild outward temperament, no one would ever assume the kindly maid is as deadly as she is.Once resurrected, I gave her the opportunity to exact revenge upon her and her sister’s killer. And in exchange, she serves my son and I. But when Vincent’s natural life ends, I will allow her to do as she wishes with her own.“Is he eating well?” I ask.“Not as well as he should. But better than last week.”“Poor little love.” I sigh.I pour a pint of blood into a basin and dip a clean rag into it, then ring it out before handing it to her. She is quick to stuff it into her mouth and nurse from it.My dolls have an insatiable thirst for the blood of their body’s type. Injections and transfusions are scarcely enough to satisfy it. The taste of it, however, seems to sate them for a short while.I finish up some paperwork while I wait for the transfusion to finish.“I’ve obtained some suppressants for him.” I passively mention. “They are on my desk. Collect them on your way out.”They are suppressants, indeed. But I made a few… alterations, to them.“Give him one tablet daily with food, starting tomorrow. And I will provide a five day’s supply of blood for you. But you must return by the fifth day after your dose, or your cravings will go out of control.”Emiline can survive a full 5 days without a fresh, oxygenated transfusion, and in the meantime she is able to make do with daily injections that I taught her to give herself.I remove the needle and tubing from her arm.“Very well, mtoaji maisha.”
Life-giver.
“Take good care of my little love, then. And remember-”“His life is of the highest priority.” She finishes.While her words are steady, I sense a… shift in her resolve as she collects the suppressants and leaves my shop.A conflict of the heart, perhaps?I knew Emiline would likely become attached to my son as she helped raise him and watched him grow. She is only human, after all. And Vincent is indeed kinder than most who hold a position of power in polite society. It would not surprise me if she is feeling the weight of that which cannot be undone and her part in it.But I will not punish her for feeling.Only for deliberate betrayal, should she ever be foolish enough to dare to follow in Claudia’s footsteps. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Now that I know exactly where Vincent is, I feel less tense, and can rest assured that he is in good hands with Emiline.I return to the cellar and give my newest creation a few injections. He was once a waste of flesh- treacherous of tongue and greedy of hand.He saw things he shouldn’t have. Spoke words he should have withheld. Took and kept what Vincent had given him, when he had not earned it honestly.So I streamlined, shaped him into a masterpiece that reflects his sins against me and my son. I must say, I am rather proud of the results, and feel like I deserve another dose of poppy seed tea.When the pot whistles, I pour myself a cup and have a few sips.Just before I prop my boots up on my desk, a green light blares through my shop, and the seam of this mortal plane parts before me.
Bloody Hell. They found me.
I summon my scythe, disguised as a sotoba.Out from the veil steps a reaper- tall, dark hair, smartly dressed.“Allow me to introduce myself, I am William T. Spears, of the collections department.” He produces a clipboard, and begins to read from it. “Cedric K. Ros, you are hereby under arrest for the crimes of destruction of property, aggravated assault, multiple murders, illicit human experimentation, repeatedly tampering with matters of life and death, as well as more… ” He clears his throat. “Unspeakably unsavory violations.”“You’re honestly going to arrest a feeble old man?” I say creakily, then down the rest of the cup.“Oh, please.” He says, unfooled. “Spare me your act. I suggest you come quietly, lest you are determined to make my job more difficult.”
Pfffft. The balls on this boy.
Throwing my head back with a cackle, I stand up.“ ‘fraid I don’t have the time, nor patience to play today. Perhaps some other time.” I say dismissively, then turn to make my way to the back of my parlor. To the cellar.Something whistles past my ear. Steel bites into wood as something lodges into the doorframe. I pause.The energy pulsing from it tells me it is a death scythe fashioned into a…I squint. Is that a pruning tool…?“Pfft. What a boring aesthetic choice for a scythe.” I needle him.William sighs. “Do you always talk this much?”“Of course! Though I have far more interesting conversations with the dead, and I’d rather you not join them. Let me guess- your cause of death was a perforated colon, via that stick up your ass?”“How charming. Not only are you crass, but utterly mad.” He drips with sarcasm.“Better utterly mad than dreadfully dull, like yourself. As for trying to take me in, walk away now, and perhaps I’ll allow you to leave here with all your limbs and organs intact.”“I won’t be intimidated by the likes of you.” Growing weary with our exchange, he tucks away his clipboard.“One hundred and seventy-eight.”“Pardon?”“You will be number one hundred and seventy-eight. That is how many have tried and failed to arrest me- and that isn’t counting the mortals.” I turn to face him, and rake the hair away from my face. “What makes you so sure your attempt will be any different?”An underlying bite of anxiety bubbles up from beneath the stench of chemicals and death, telling me that he is either unnerved by the extent of my scars or that bit of knowledge shook the foundations of his confidence. But he is determined to maintain his bravado, just as they all were.“Did they even tell you what happened to those who failed? That they were never seen again, and dispatch lost the ability to track them at all?”“The ravings of a lunatic.” He scoffs, pretending to be unfazed. “I am in no mood to drag this out- I’ve enough overtime as it is. My to-die list is growing as we speak.”I smile. “There are far worse fates than death, you know.”He adjusts his spectacles. “Yes, I am well aware. Being cursed with an eternity of dealing with… colorful characters such as yourself, makes that glaringly obvious.”“Then by all means, after you.” I offer, then widen my stance, allowing him to make the first move.William withdraws his scythe, and I test his agility by aiming a sotoba for where he once stood.My opponent is more acrobatic than I had expected him to be.He gracefully lights upon the shelf looming over us and the jaws of his scythe snap closed around my bicep. I hiss in pain and my hand flares in his direction, hurling another sotoba. William leaps back to dodge it, lip curling in annoyance as he is forced to release me so as to avoid being struck.But I now know the reach and make of his weapon- it is designed for reaping only mortals, and won’t gravely wound me even if he strikes something vital. He is likely in his third or fourth year on the job, and he has not been granted access to the more deadly arsenal as of yet. That in itself tells me he has no idea who I even am.Top brass must be truly desperate to be sending novices after me.The reaper’s eyes are sharp and cold with concentration as he delivers a rapid set of attempted bites from a distance, utilizing the advantageous length his scythe boasts. I parry his strikes, and even allow him to break a few sotobas.As long as he believes I do not possess a death scythe of my own, I maintain more than one advantage.The wound in my arm aches as I circle the high shelf he is perched upon, just out of his weapon’s reach. He in turn stares down at me from his vantage point, scanning for signs of weakness.“Well, if you aren’t willing to come down,” I mutter, then lunge forth and swing my disguised blade. His lips part in shock as the shelving suddenly collapses beneath him.Seconds later, the serrated jaws of his scythe fly out from the rubble, and I duck underneath the jut of it. William crawls out from the heap of wood and broken glass, and I smell bitter rage.Laughing at him, I turn and run. “Come and get me, if you dare!”His footsteps thud behind me as I disappear through the morgue and descend into my open cellar.“I wouldn’t follow me down here if I were you.” I taunt. “Those who do become permanent residents.”The fool falls for the trap all too easily, and gives chase.I melt into the shadows, following the light, whistling wheeze of my experiment breathing.“Show Daddy what you can do.” I hiss into what remains of his ear canal, and free him from his bonds. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ “How well can you find your way in such dim light?” Cedric taunts me.It was unwise to follow him down here, where I could possibly be cornered. But little does he know, I am not alone. A trainee is waiting for me outside. When I do not return in the next two minutes, they will follow.“Well enough.”And then I hear the whistling wheeze, like asthmatic breath.What thaws into view makes my blood run cold. My scythe trembles in my grasp.“Magnificent, isn’t he?” Undertaker calls from the darkness. “You best not move, though. Or breathe. If he hears you, he’ll rip you apart with his many, many teeth.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ “Senpai?” I whisper from the top of the stairs, holding my trainee’s scythe close to my chest.I don’t want to go down there. The cellar below smells of damp stone and putrid flesh.Like a crypt.I swallow.William said to give him five minutes, and he would return with the man in cuffs.But he never did. Collecting fugitive reapers is rarely this difficult.Chest tight with anxiety, I hesitantly descend the stairs.It’s terribly quiet. And dimly lit.Then I see blood spattered on the floor at the base of the final step.“Senpai?!” I hiss, rushing the rest of the way down.The dim firelight makes it difficult to see much at all, and every shadow seems to have a life of its own. I can make out several autopsy tables and thin, dirty sheets hanging between them to serve as separation curtains.“Hide.”It’s a bare whisper. I cannot even tell where it is coming from, or if it is William or the fugitive telling me what to do.“Hide!” With more urgency this time.Something shifts to my right.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The hair on the back of my neck bristles.Slowly, I turn to face what is behind me.I hold my breath so as not to make a sound as fear screams from my every pore. My legs liquefy beneath me, and it is everything I can do to maintain my footing.A walking corpse. Stripped entirely of its flesh, revealing pink, red and purple cords of muscle, stands mere feet from me. Its eyes have been carved out, teeth bared in a permanent grimace, triangular holes of spongy marrow where the nose once was.The whole creature glistens wetly in the dim firelight.But most horrifying of all- the top half of its head, as well as its arms- have been sliced clean off.The monstrosity blindly stumbles closer, swaying and twitching horribly. With every step it takes, black blood drips from a wound in its abdomen. William must have tried to bring it down.Parting its jaws, it lets out a whistling wheeze, and my stomach turns from the visceral sound.Carefully taking a step to the side, I let the thing shuffle past me as I continue to back up.Clang. I bump into an autopsy table, rattling the array of tools resting on a steel tray.I freeze.With its back to me, it halts, head turning just slightly to the side as it listens. I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle any sound, and slowly crouch to the floor, inching my way underneath the table.A throaty screech rips from its mouth, and the creature suddenly wheels around, charging for where I had once stood.When it collides with nothing, it stops, steaming breath huffing as it tries to sense where I am.I then see William crouched under the autopsy table across from me. He slowly puts his fingers up to his lips.He pulls out his clipboard, and dips his finger in the blood gleaming on the head of his death scythe. William smears it around the back of the board, then turns it to show me what he has written. I squint in the dark.
‘It has no soul.’
Our death scythes will be useless against it.“Hmph. It’s not much fun when all you two do is hide. I need to know how well my creation will fare in armed battle.” the fugitive says from the shadows.Then a glass vial suddenly shatters on the floor between us. A shard hits and cuts me, making me gasp.In an instant, the table atop me flies across the room as the creature crashes into it, and I manage to lodge my scythe into its throat.Seemingly unfazed, it lets out a gurgling growl around the blade.“Run!” William yells, and his death scythe bursts through its chest. He twists his weapon, doing his damnedest to distract it.But I can’t move. I’m rooted to the spot as it bears down over me, and I watch in horror as its jaws open unnaturally wide. Like a tarantula emerging from its den, eight spindly fingers flex from the cavern of its mouth, and the pads are barbed with dozens of translucent fangs.Then they latch around my face, suffocating my scream. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ William swoops in and spears his scythe through my creation’s chest- a normally fatal wound- but experiment 3Z69 does not stop his attack. The trainee thrashes and kicks out, but to no avail.Curling his body over hers, he plants a foot on her chest and continues to gnaw at her face, surgically implanted fingers keeping her locked in place.Remarkable.The reaper rips his scythe free, and that annoys him enough to release his prey. 3Z69 whips around and lunges for him instead. A kick to the chest sends William flying across the room and his back smashes into the wall.3Z69 seems to hold his own quite well against multiple opponents.I placed his altered record into a small locket, which I then implanted into his foot- where he is least likely to be struck. As long as that itself remains unbroken by a scythe, my creation will not be cut down.With a snap of my fingers, he releases her and returns to my side.“Go back to your superiors, William. Unless you want to end up like the poor trainee that you dragged into this.” I say.William staggers to his feet, and then he rushes to the trainee. She is wheezing weakly, suffocating in her own blood, features mangled. William is quick to roll her onto her side to aid her breathing. Wounds like hers will take at least a few hours to heal.There’s a fierce ignition in his gaze, and he raises his scythe. “I’m not leaving here until you’re in handcuffs."“Then you won’t be leaving here at all!” I laugh, then reveal my scythe.His shock is worth its weight in gold.I fly at him, and William narrowly dodges my strike as the sweep of the blade opens a portal in space. Whirling around him, I feint, and when William raises his scythe to deflect, I drop my weapon, rip his own from his hands, then kick him through the gash.He plummets through the portal and crashes no less than thirty feet below into snow-dusted shrubbery and rocks. The crack of bone tells me he broke his femur upon impact.If I had to hazard a guess as to where he landed, I would say somewhere in the Himalayas.“For all the trouble you’ve caused me, number one hundred and seventy-eight, I’m keeping your friend, as well as your scythe.” I shout. “Fear not, I shall put both to good use.”With a wave of my hand, I seal the portal closed, leaving William stranded and injured in the wilderness. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hours pass before Emiline returns with the supplies. “I also retrieved something else I thought would be useful.” She says, then pulls out a bottle of pills.“Are those…?”“Suppressants.” She whispers. “Yes. You should take one each morning with breakfast.”The footman then enters with an armload of groceries.“Thank you.” I say quietly, then take them from her and slip them into my pocket. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
Three Days Later
I fit perfectly into Undertaker’s chest as we lay on our sides, his arms wrapped around me as he leisurely fucks me from behind.“Good boy,” He nuzzles sweetly into my hair, savoring the molten squeeze of my body.He lifts my leg, draping it over his thigh to drive his ruthlessly hard cock in a little deeper. “Uhn.”A rough hand grips me tight, then begins to tug. The pad of his thumb rubs in little circles just under the head, gliding slickly with precome.Moist heat as he licks the shell of my ear. “Come for me, love.”Undertaker’s grasp becomes bruising. He gasps, coming inside me.God, I’m so close, so-I jolt awake. Panting.Achingly hard and leaking at the tip. My face is hot. Shamefully so. I hate myself for feeling anything when it comes to him, but…God, I can feel my heartbeat in my cock. I… I need to come.Teasing myself as he did, I huff into my palm as quietly as I can. I’m so sensitive it burns.Breath shudders from my nose as I suddenly spurt in rapid pulses into my fist.“Cedric,” His name passes my lips, a knee-jerk reaction to the pleasure. “Daddy…”And a betrayal.When the throb subsides, I feel as relieved as I do sick. A dirty, shameful high.Wiping the stickiness clinging to my palm off on a handkerchief, I then roll over onto my stomach and bury my face in the pillow.But try as I might, I cannot go back to sleep. Not after that.A sliver of lilac dawn peeks through the curtains.I lie awake until I hear the servants stir and when the sun has finally crept over the horizon, I get up and read. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ As the day wears on, I begin to feel feverish. Needy.My clothes cling to me, damp and translucent with sweat.Even worse, I cannot stop thinking about Dadd- the Undertaker. And how badly I want to be held.As well as held down.That thought summons a rosy flush to burn through me, followed by a throbbing ache from his mark- as though my body is calling for him. Mourning his absence.There can be no mistake. Somehow, I am coming into heat yet again.I call for Emiline, and she offers to bring me milk and biscuits.“How can this be? I was taking suppressants!”“I honestly do not know. Perhaps they are expired?” She examines the bottle on my nightstand, but there is no date or other information written on them.“The footman is a beta. This shouldn’t be possible.”If Undertaker had found me, I would have smelled him. And I am quite certain he wouldn’t have been able to maintain his distance once he smelled my… condition."Indeed, you couldn't have been exposed to pheromones or any triggers that I am aware of. I don't understand.""What do I do?""You will have to ride it out, unfortunately." She says sadly. “I’m terribly sorry, M’ Lord.”I’ve no choice but to suffer through it.Terrific. Just bloody terrific. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ By the following night, I am in agony.The cramps are enough to bring tears to my eyes. And I’m positively starved. I have eaten everything on the tea cart but feel guilty about ringing for more, now that I can appreciate just how hard Emiline and the footman work to keep me satisfied. So, I don’t bother them.I make a nest from the sheets and go so far as to try to sleep with the jade phallus inside of me, but it just isn’t enough. It pales in comparison to what I know could have.Touch. I am craving the Undertaker’s touch above all. Those black claws sweeping through the wet silk between my thighs. His fierce and commanding kiss. How he cradles me in his arms as though I am the most precious thing in the world to him.I wish he were here to hold me. Feed me. Fuck me. But the reasonable part of my brain, dulled as it may be, snarls that he should be swinging from the gallows. Conflict brews, thick and heavy in my chest.After several fruitless attempts to find relief, I grimly accept the fact that I cannot come, no matter how hard I try.For hours, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling.It is around four am when the desperate thought of paying the footman to help me flits through my mind. He isn’t an Alpha, but if he would be willing to pin me down by the back of the neck and fuck me with the toy like Daddy did, so I could at least imagine it were him…I throw on my trousers and nightshirt, then pad into the living room. But when I see him peacefully sleeping on the couch, I realize how utterly pathetic that idea is, and abandon it.How low I have sunk, to even consider that.What would I even say to him?“Excuse me, sir, but could I perhaps pay you to be a stand-in for my father and mercilessly fuck me with a jade phallus?”It would almost certainly traumatize the poor man. And his scent is wrong. He isn’t…It just wouldn’t be the same. And were Undertaker to find out, he would murder him for touching me, regardless of whose idea it was.“Is everything alright, M’ Lord?”I jolt as Emiline approaches me from the kitchen.“Y- yes. I just wanted some more food.” I say. It’s not an outright lie. I am indeed starving. “Anything we can spare, honestly.”“Certainly, I am making preparations for tomorrow's breakfast as we speak. I’ll bring something to you as soon as it is ready.”“Thank you, Emiline.”I return to bed, frustrated. Wet. Empty. Ashamed. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
One dose.
There is only one dose left of my injections. Quietly, I close the velvet lined case and slide it into my apron pocket.Truthfully, I should have taken it hours ago. I put it off to buy more time.But there is no way around it. Soon, I will need a transfusion.
“You must return by the fifth day after your dose, or your cravings will go out of control.”
Vincent is in the full swing of heat, and to leave him alone with only the footman for protection would be playing with fire. He is a prime target for a rogue assault.The lower classes are unmedicated. They typically cannot afford suppressants or blockers- which makes some individuals dangerous. Rogue Alphas will sometimes band together to reach an otherwise unobtainable Omega in heat.Thunk. Something hits the glass of the living room window.I crack the front door just enough to see a dove twitching on the cobblestone below, wings spread, neck broken.Poor thing.But it is good meat, I tell myself. It shouldn’t go to waste. I could cook it into a stew for the young master, if nothing else.I step outside to collect it. But when I close my fingers around its body, feel the warmth of life and tiny heart still thrumming under my fingers…My mouth floods with saliva.Glancing over my shoulder, I confirm the footman is still in the kitchen peeling potatoes and stuff the bird up my sleeve.After checking with the young Master, I close the bathroom door behind me and pluck the breast feathers free.My jaw trembles as I succumb to visceral temptation and bite into it.And it’s good. So good.Hot blood seeps over my tongue, and I suck hard from the gash.But it’s not enough. A hunger roars from the depths of my chest, snarling and ravenous. I rip chunks of meat away, then swallow it down.Deeper. I need what is found deeper within. My thumbs dig into the red crater of its abdomen and I crack open the delicate rib cage to get to the pink pearl of its heart.It’s like indulging in a ripe peach. Wonderful.The satisfying pierce through membranous skin. Stringy arteries thread through my teeth like pulp. Juices run freely down my chin with each bite.Until I feel the scaly flesh of its legs crunch between my jaws, I do not even realize that I’ve devoured the whole thing. Bones and all.Cool water pools into my hands as I dip them into the basin and rinse away the evidence of what I have just done.Speaking of evidence…Rolling the clump of feathers together into a ball, I hide them in my shoe to dump outside later.The needle’s cold snakebite makes me shiver in both pain and shuddering relief as I use my final injection.I place the empty syringe back in its case, swallowing thickly around the lingering coppery taste in my mouth. Without a transfusion, and soon, I myself will be a danger to the young Master.The gunmetal is chilly in my hand as I draw it from the holster strapped to my thigh. It is loaded. Six rounds.Should worst come to worst, Vincent will have six opportunities to bring down the bloodthirsty beast that I will inevitably become. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I roll over in bed with a whine.I’m hungry. Hot. Sweat-sticky and uncomfortable. To top it off, I only managed a few hours of fitful sleep.The midmorning light in the room dims as clouds roll in.Grinding down over the jade phallus, I desperately try to come, but to no avail.It doesn’t matter how hard or deep I drive it in. There is so much missing. Too much.
Alpha. Need him.
I scream into my pillow with rage. An answering roll of thunder rumbles in the distance.Fine.If I cannot satisfy one craving, I shall indulge another.I climb out of bed and tug my trousers on before ringing the bell for Emiline. If nothing else, I’ll eat through my frustrations.A rustling outside my window. Shadows flicker through the gap of hazy light through the curtains.
Undertaker?
But then the hair on the back of my neck bristles in warning.I inhale deeply. It is indeed an Alpha, but the scent that begins to drift through the cracks is wrong. All wrong.Emiline knocks, then enters the room.“Yes, M’ Lord?”“Someone is outside.” I whisper.The moment Emiline looks to the window, the glass spiderwebs as it is struck.“Young master!” Emiline sweeps me into her grasp and turns us, shielding me with her back from the explosion of glass. She rushes me out of the room and pulls the door closed, then locks it with a skeleton key, closing the intruder off.“Come,” Emiline says, then takes me by the hand and leads me down the hall. “Into the living room.”The footman has already heard the racket, and he speaks in a language I do not understand. Emiline responds in his tongue, and pulls out my mother’s pistol. He then runs to the kitchen and draws a butcher knife from the block.“They are going to try to get to you by any means necessary.” She cocks the hammer back. “Listen to me. No matter what happens, you are to protect yourself. If I tell you to run, run. As the Phantomhive heir, your survival is the highest priority.”
No.
Without Emiline, I will be all alone.“But if-”“Your mother would want me to keep you safe. And I promised her that I would.”Those words not only gut me, but strip the spine from any argument I could have made.Crack. The bedroom door splinters as someone rams their shoulder into it.“Cover your ears.” Emiline says. I do.She then takes aim and unloads two rounds into it. Through the ringing in my head, I hear a muted grunt, then a thud as a body on the other side slumps to the floor.Blood and gunpowder thicken the air. The stink of an unwelcome stranger’s pheromones is a nauseating undertone. But there is more than one of them.“I can smell another. Possibly two.”Emiline murmurs to the footman, who then nods.He pulls my jacket off the coat rack and slips it on. It is too small for him, but he manages to squeeze into it.“If they want in, the front door will not stop them.” Emiline tells me, then passes me the gun. I slip it into my ankle holster. “But if we can draw them out and kill them before they break it down, our odds will be better.”Crouching behind the couch, Emiline pulls a knitting needle from her apron pocket and signals to the footman, who then opens the door and bravely turns his back to it.A burly stranger instantly charges in. Wrapping his arms around the footman’s shoulders, he tries to drag him outside. The intruder’s nose wrinkles and his gaze flashes to me. My heart plummets. He sees through the ruse.“Omega-” Before he can act, the footman elbows him in the gut, forcing him to release his hold. Emiline then leaps out and plunges a knitting needle through his ear. Howling with pain, the Alpha then stumbles backwards. He rips the instrument out, and blood streams down the line of his jaw.“Can’t s-see-” He mutters, looking blindly around before Emiline shoves him out and slams the front door closed. Locks it, and leans against it. Her back heaves with strenuous breath.Tendons in her hands flex as her fingers curl into claws. She stumbles away from the door in a wounded daze.“Emiline?”Was she injured?“I’m- I’m not…”“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” I move towards her.She backs away, hand flaring towards me.
Stop. Stay back.
She shudders violently.“Run, Vincent.” Her voice is tight. I feel the blood drain from my face as dark veins like plant roots race up her neck. Her skin tone deepens, alters, until it becomes mottled. Like the corpse in Undertaker’s cellar. Every hair on my body stands on end.Something is happening to her, something terrible.“Emiline?”But I want to help her. She is all I have left.“Run,” It comes out as a growl. “and don’t look back.”A tree stump crashes through the casement window, hitting the footman in the back of the head. He drops to the floor in a rain of glass, unconscious.And then the intruder reaches in- stubby, calloused fingers close around my bicep. My stomach instantly turns with revulsion.
Not Alpha Don’t touch Get Away
I dig my heels into the floor and claw at his face as he drags me towards him. Glass cuts into the soles of my feet.Releasing me with a snarl, I then tumble to the floor. He hoists himself up to climb through the broken window. I swipe the knife lying next to the footman, and swing my arm back in preparation to stab the bastard.Suddenly grabbing him by the skull, Emiline slams him into the jagged jut of broken glass. His scream is watery as a gush of blood sprays from his cleaved jugular.I am frozen in horror as she clamps her jaws into his neck.The blade falls from my hand.Jerking her head back, she shreds cords of arteries within her teeth. Arcs of red sling across the room.“Run!” She roars gutturally, and only then do I bolt for the back door. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
***Fifteen Years Ago***
The moon is in mourning, donning her shroud of dark clouds.My mane of iron gray falls well past my shoulders now, a feathery fringe hiding my eyes. I no longer alter the color of either for the sake of passing as a younger man when among the living. Nor do I hide my extensive scars, which keep most at a respectable distance when I walk the streets of London’s East end.Two months have passed since I staged my suicide.I paid an orphan boy to deliver an anonymous report to the Yard, stating their wanted fugitive had been sighted in the slums of St. Giles. Then I burned the reported address to the ground.It was still smoldering when Claudia’s carriage arrived.The body I hung from the rafters needed only to be roughly my height and build, and the fire took care of the rest. A meticulous set-up of a laboratory in the cellar with a few glasses, beakers, and steel tables was enough to sell the ruse.Emotionally exhausted, Claudia did not poke or prod as deeply into it as I thought she would. The collection of mismatched body parts that I dug up from a nearby cemetery, carefully arranged in a mockery of what she stumbled upon that day, managed to convince her.From there, I followed her. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ At three am, I portal into her new home.She has moved into her late father’s manor. A massive and lavish property.And here is where she shall die.While I watch her sleep peacefully in her bed, my stomach brews with a sour, wounded anger.How perfect she was. A delightful paradigm of virtue and grace without ever really striving for it. Claudia truly is more human than most.But her sense of justice is far too stiff. Not even for me, someone she loved, would she grant any lenience or even an opportunity to explain.I loved her. I trusted her. And she threw it all back in my face by calling in the bloody fucking Yard on me.Silently, I approach her bedside.Curled up on her side, chest rising and falling with steady breath. A bird asleep in her nest, blissfully unaware of the serpent’s coils winding around her.Fingers outstretched, I reach for her throat, but then I sense…A small thrum of life. Separate, yet bound to her. Unintrusive. And-I huff a breath. Then lean down over her and sniff.It smells… like me. And her. Yet something all its own.The bitter salt of tears are soaked into her pillow. But it is not I that she wept for.My fingers curl into an empty fist, which I allow to drop to my side.Claudia carries my pup.Swallowing down my rage and petty desire for revenge, I decide that I shall allow her to live.For now.But only because this presents an opportunity to begin anew, with someone who can be more easily molded, made to understand. Someone who can atone for Claudia’s shortcomings. Someone who will love me. Who will stay by my side until the end of time.
A soul to keep.
I’ve always hoped for a little boy of my own… ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Overhead, the skies split open and howl with thunder and fury, unleashing a torrential downpour.The cobblestone path is wet and slippery beneath my bare feet as I half-run, half-stumble to the barn. I barely manage to haul myself up onto my unsaddled horse, then kick him into a gallop.The rain soaks my clothes and hair as we fly in the opposite direction of the cottage. Knotting my fingers into his mane, I do my damndest to not slip along his slick coat.A cramp rips through me, and it is enough to punch the air from my lungs.I wish I could write off what I saw as merely a hallucination. A nightmare, even.But I can still hear the sound of teeth rending human flesh and the scent of blood still lingers in my nostrils.Regardless of what Emiline is, she protected me. She put herself in danger so I could safely escape.And now, I’ve only one place to go.
Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.
By the time I reach the east end of London, my breath is shuddering from me in heated puffs and I’m sluggish with heat.The pain is now so severe that I can barely hold on to my mount.I cut through an alleyway, a shortcut to Undertaker’s shop.A sable blurr darts across my path, and my horse rears up onto his hind legs as he tries to avoid the obstacle. The dog barks, and I tumble off and land on my wrist. I cry out as it bends at an unnatural angle.“Damn it!”Then the dog bolts around the corner. I try to get back upon my horse, but it is impossible with only one hand and no saddle.I need to get out of here, and quickly. This is the worst part of town to be in, especially unmounted-“Well, well, what do we ‘ave here?” I whip around, and icy fear trickles over my scalp.It is the man I saw outside of Undertaker’s shop when I examined the bodies with my mother. The one who stared at me with ravenous intent.And he isn’t alone.His very large companion saunters out of the adjacent alley, sniffing the air. “Been mated, but not fully claimed, this one. Nobility by the smells of ya… in a bad way, ain’t ya, little Omega?”
Shit shit shit
I’ve heard of elaborate traps such as this that thieves will set to rob someone. I take my coin sack and toss it towards him. Uninterested, he strides right past it.I shrink back against my horse. The beast snorts, undoubtedly smelling my fear. Ignoring the pain in my wrist, I try to haul myself up onto his back again.Suddenly hands seize me around my ribs and I’m yanked back down.“Let me go! Release me this instant!” I roar, but then another cramp saws through me, stealing my breath. My horse spooks from my thrashing, and bolts.“Why the hurry? We’re only just getting friendly… and ya smell like you need some ‘elp. We can take care of ya.”“Wait a moment…” The companion squints. “thas the son of the Queen’s Guard Dog! I don’ want no trouble from the Queen. Best leave ‘im be.”The first Alpha just grins and hurls me against the wall, crushing me there.Not Alpha Not Alpha Get away My instincts recoil and my skin crawls from the stranger’s alien touch.Nostrils flaring, he rudely sniffs at me again then spins me around to pin me by the back of the neck. “Nah, I think I'll be keepin' this one.”“Let go of me,” I hiss, and before I can reach for the pistol strapped to my ankle, he slams my face into the bricks, stunning me. Blood rings over my tongue, metallic and bitter. My arms are wrenched back, and it hurts.“S-Stop, or my Alpha will kill you!” I sputter over the blood dripping from my nose.
Smells wrong Smells wrong, wrong, wrong
He rips my trousers down, intent on raping me here and now.“Shut up. No one is coming to save ya, kid.” He scoffs. “You’re gonna be bred like a bitch in fronna God an’ everybody.”I struggle, and manage to free a hand. My assailant then knees me in the back when I reach for my gun and he yanks the weapon from its holster. It skids across the ground as he tosses it aside.He is going to rape me. And then he is going to kill me. I will be just another missing persons poster tacked to the wall. A rapidly forgotten name and face. A cautionary tale to keep children from straying too far from home.No.
“Undertaker!”
Screaming for the only one who can save me now, I thrash wildly, arms nearly tearing from their sockets. His grasp tightens, fingers digging in. He reels me back in preparation to slam my face into the wall again. It’s going to knock me out this time, and I won’t awaken until they’re through and shoveling dirt over me. I hold my breath, bracing for impact-He stops.“I- ‘m sorry, I told ‘im not to-”A howl, followed by a meaty thud.Suddenly his grip loosens, then falls away completely.Then I smell sweltering rage. And blood. Blood that isn’t mine.Slowly, I turn.“You should know that those who steal,” Undertaker swings his scythe and I watch the right hand of the man who was restraining me fly into the air and then plop to the ground. “lose their hands.”Alpha.A chill ripples through me. Time slows to a crawl.Behind the curtain of the mortician’s fluttering robes, the companion is slumped against the wall, still and limp. There’s a thick grey rope of intestine uncoiling from the gash in his abdomen.Our gazes meet. Cedric’s eyes are wild, glowing wickedly, lip curled in a snarl. Unbridled fury rolls off of him in hot waves.“Look away, Vincent.”But I cannot. I am spellbound, transfixed upon him as he moves with lightning speed, his god-like wrath crashing down upon my assailants.
Alpha is so angry. They violated what is his.
“But those who dare to touch what is mine,” The blade then cleaves into the Alpha's legs. I vaguely hear him yell over my thudding heart. His limbs collapse out from under him as gaping red maws of flesh and muscle open wide just above each of his kneecaps.He tumbles onto his back, and Undertaker’s heel lands on his throat. The man’s face turns a gruesome shade of purple as his windpipe is crushed beneath his boot.“...Lose their heads.” With a flash of silver, his face rotates towards me as his skull separates from his neck. His jaw moves in a silent scream.Only now do I squeeze my eyes shut. There’s a wet crunch like a pumpkin being stomped, and my stomach lurches.“A quicker death than you deserve.” He spits with blistering scorn.Undertaker’s footsteps are slow. Cautious, as though he’s approaching a startled animal. Then I feel his finger turning my chin up.“You can open your eyes, now.”I do, but keep my gaze downcast. His weapon disappears in wisps of black smoke. The rain washes the blood from his boots in hypnotizing swirls of rose red, diluting into watercolor pink. “Are you alright, Vincent?”Thoroughly shaken, I suddenly burst into tears, wrapping my arms around myself. “Daddy.”“Poor kitten,” He coos, then kneels before me to gently pull up my trousers up around my hips. “Keep looking at me, love, not them.”Undertaker then removes his robe and drapes it around my shoulders, engulfing me in his soothing scent. He swipes a sodden lock of hair away from my face and covers my eyes, leaning me into him. Then he leads me past their mangled corpses.“You're safe, now. Safe with Daddy.”
Daddy.
Smells good. Smells safe.
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Slick gushes down my thighs and Undertaker’s scent is so burnt with rage that my head is spinning. Shaken and chilled by the rain, I shiver pathetically.“Where is Emiline?” He asks.I am frankly surprised he even knows her name.“In Soho.” I admit. There is no point in hiding anything from him anymore now that I’ve been forced out into the open. “We were attacked, but she… she killed them all.”“Rogue Alphas, I presume?”“Yes.”“Bloody menaces, they are.” He growls.Undertaker asks no more questions. I do not doubt he knows much more than he is letting on, but I am too tired to interrogate him.A particularly vicious cramp makes me stumble.“I… I can’t…” I feel as though I am walking through knee-deep wet cement. “Alpha…p-please…”Undertaker pauses, then gently gathers me up into his arms to carry me.“Daddy’s got you, love.” He says tenderly, tucking my head under his chin.
Strong Alpha. Fights for. Protects.
Unable to help myself, I cling to his shoulders.
Mine.
His long strides cover ground quickly enough, and we soon reach his shop. Undertaker carries me inside, kicking the door closed before bolting it with one hand. He heads for the stairs, and we enter his bedroom, which is dimly lit with dozens of candelabras.He lays me down upon the sheets of his bed.“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He says, and carefully undresses me. Then he winds the sheet and his robe around my shoulders once more.I wait for him to loom over me, to pin me down to lick the sweet glacé sheen from my thighs.Through a fog of agony, I instead watch him turn his back and walk away from me.I let out a pathetic whine. “Alpha, don’t-”He pauses, but he doesn’t look at me. “Don’t what, love?”I’m still hurt. Angry.But I need him here with me. I don’t want to be alone right now.“Don’t go.” It’s a bare whisper, so quiet that I doubt he hears it. “Please. I…”The words sit hot on my tongue until they burn like red-hot iron. Until I have no choice but to release them.“I need you.”But hear it, he does.Cedric still will not turn to face me. “Do you? You told me that if I loved you, I should stay away from you.”“Yes. Yes, but I’m sorry, I…” Pant. “I didn’t mean it.”A lie. But I need him now more than ever.“But you did.” His voice is cool, edged like a knife. The flames in the fireplace flicker, then dim. The air in the room chills, growing deadly still. Heavy. Uncomfortable. “That’s why you left.”“I… I was hurt, I- wasn’t thinking properly. Uhn-” The ache of another cramp cuts me off. “I’ll never send you away or run from you again. I’m sorry, Cedric, please, I-”“You promise you will never wound me like that again?”“Yes.” I swear. “Yes, I promise.”“Yes, what?”“Y- yes. Yes, Daddy. Please, I- I need-”Undertaker turns, strides towards me. He grabs my face, squeezing firmly, but is careful to not let his nails bite into the skin.“And what about what I need, hm? Will this be a mutual understanding, or will you beg for all of me, only to then push me away again when I give you just that?”I pant lewdly in his face, unable to control myself any longer.
Alpha Help Alpha It hurts
My mind is lost in the red velvet haze, and all I can think is how badly I want him to pin me beneath his weight and stuff his cock inside of me.“I… I’m sorry.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ “Good.” I let go of his face, then sit on the bed.“You hurt me, boy. Deeply. So you’re going to have to earn it.” Like the treacherous little slut he is. “On your knees.”With a heavy swallow, Vincent uncoils from the sheets, and arranges himself as best he can with an injured wrist between my spread thighs.His little cock bobs, leaking steadily with precome. Sweet thing is already hard. Hard and dripping for his Daddy.It is all I can do to maintain the white-knuckled grip on my restraint. I don’t know which I desire more- to chain him up in my cellar like a prisoner and use him at my leisure, or to rape that gasping little mouth till his throat bruises and he chokes on my come.Though if I come down too hard on him, he will shut me out yet again. Petty vengeance and needless cruelty will get me nowhere. A softer touch is needed.I doubt a little degradation will kill him, though.“Now pleasure yourself,” I say, nudging the toe of my boot on the tender underside of his cock. With a hungry whine, his hips buck forward from the contact. “Grind on it.”The boy’s lips part with shock, but his gaze is hot. Needy. He will comply.“Y- yes, Daddy,” Vincent murmurs, shifting so as to straddle my multi-strapped boot, shivering from the cool steel buckles between his thighs. Nervously, he lowers himself to it, then begins to move in clumsy thrusts.Vincent struggles to find a position that allows for much friction. His chin drops to my lap, face flushed so prettily, panting damp heat against my groin as he degrades himself to appease me.Omegan pheromones saturate the air, clouding even the stench of formaldehyde. It sticks in my throat like syrup.Gently, lovingly, I rake my fingers through his hair. Vincent looks up at me, eyes glistening with tears like wet jewels that I want to lick the dew from.And I know then that I have successfully broken him.Vincent is drowning, gasping through crashing waves which threaten to drag him under the current. His muscles burn with exhaustion. He is too drained to stay afloat, to fight anymore, and is moments from sinking beneath the surface. Now is when I shall offer my hand to pull him from the sea. Just as I knew he would, Vincent gratefully latches on, clinging to me like a liferaft.“You truly do need me, don’t you?”Vincent slowly nods. Once again, he is clay in my hands, ready to be shaped.“Are you wet for me?”“Yesss,” He hisses, gaze alighting. “So wet, wet for y-”I grab him by the throat, hauling him up into my lap and crash our mouths together.“I know what you need, love. And I will give it to you. But only if you never leav- never hurt me like that again.”"Yes," He nods mindlessly, grinding over the ridge of my cock. "I'll stay, I'm yours."Yours.And just like that, he licks the hand he bit and accepts the collar I slip around his neck. But he still reeks of a stranger’s touch, an offending scent I must smother with my own. Reaching between us, I work myself free.A wail tears from Vincent as he is skewered, his little hole flinching, sucking me into the molten wet velvet."Da- aaad- dy…" He moans brokenly, then impatiently sinks down to the hilt, eager to get himself full.Once I’m snugly nestled within, he lets out a long, shuddering sigh as though all is now right in his world."I missed you, love." I murmur into his hair, holding him close. “I missed you so terribly.”His little fingers dig into my back, and he melts into my chest, breathing me in." I… " His ribcage expands against mine. “Uhn.”He missed me too. I know he did. Because he loves me.Loves me as much as he despises me. He leans into my touch because I have given him nowhere else to turn. It makes the words bitter on his tongue, so he lets them die before they leave his lips.But he will utter them before the night is over.“Please, Cedric,” He whines. “Please…”Vincent grinds on me with feverish desperation, so I slip my thumb into his mouth. Endearingly, he suckles like a lamb, those doe-like lashes fanning over his cheeks.“Poor kitten…” I coo, smiling softly. He fusses around my thumb. “How you must have suffered without me.”Withdrawing my finger, I capture his lower lip between my teeth and push up into the burning clench of his body. Slick gushes down my shaft.I swallow his moans as he moves to meet my thrusts, fucking himself on the pillar of my cock. He makes the sweetest, breathiest little cry as he suddenly comes, and hard- not even two minutes after I pierced him.“Precious love.” I still, relishing the lush little pulses. “Mhmm. You needed it so badly, didn't you?”Vincent tucks his face into the curve of my neck, and I feel him blush.
Darling boy.
“Sweet Omega. Daddy will take care of you,” I promise him, petting the back of his head. “Such good care of you.”Thunder rolls in the distance. The storm outside rages on as I take him. Slowly. Deeply. Possessively. Until he comes for me again.Until he no longer smells like a stranger’s hands and he screams my name.Until he says that he loves me. I mercilessly wring it from him, over and over, bitter words broken by hiccuping sobs and moans. Honey and thorns from his lips. A beautifully wretched melody.Until that spark of defiance in his eyes becomes effortless compliance. Obedience. Worship.Until my ownership of him is etched into his very soul.My son. My Omega. My sweet, little love.Mine.
═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
💖💖💖 A huuuuge thank you to Luci_on_the_moon for this incredible artwork! Check out their Tumblr! 💖💖💖
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When they called me broken, I knewWhen they called me evil, I knewWhen they called me ruin, I knewI would always find my way to you When I called you poison, you knewWhen I called you shameful, you knewWhen I called you liar, you knewI would always find my way to you I'll show you ruinI'll show you vengeanceI'll show you heartbreakI'll show you lonelyA sorrow in darknessI'll show you ruinI'll show you brokenI'll show you shamelessI'll tear your world open-My Name Is Ruin, by Gary Numan There were multiple bodies to clean up at the safehouse in Soho. I disposed of all of them, as well as the East end filth. None were of significant social standing, and their disappearances were written off by the Yard as potential victims of robbery or whatever rubbish they slap on record because they don’t care to look further into it.When Vincent’s heat ends, I escort him to his manor, with Emiline and the footman at his side. To my surprise, he still trusts her completely, despite knowing her true nature. He even arranges to allow her to leave when needed to receive a transfusion.I check in with my son every day. He is… tense, after his heat. An electricity of unaddressed complications crackles between us. We tread on eggshells around each other, and I’m careful to not put him on edge.Over a period of six months, our steps become more sure-footed. A careful dance.But how I ache to touch him. To hold him close, cradle him in my arms as I did when I carried him after he was attacked.Physically, we have become strangers. He hasn’t kissed nor touched me in so long. And I do not feel as though I can do so safely without scaring him off again. No, I fear pressing him for contact now that he is no longer in heat will shatter this fragile peace we’ve built.This is a game of patience, I remind myself. I’ve all the time in the world and should wait till the boy makes the first move.I give Vincent space.A few months later, he begins to smile again.But even that has changed. It is no longer a grin of boyish innocence. It is cryptic, almost sagely- reflective of a soul beyond its years, one that has witnessed horrors no boy should ever see. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Autumn’s biting chill hangs in the air. The trees are dormant, their remaining leaves like plumes of flame. Breath clouds from my lips as I patiently wait outside the polished gates of Buckingham Palace.It has been nearly a year now, since Vincent returned to me.Today, the Queen has summoned Vincent to imbue him with his mother’s title.As a lowly mortician, the privilege to attend the ceremony is not granted to me. I must watch from a distance.The grand doors open at last, and my son emerges with Emiline at his side, then descends the marble steps. Pomade-slicked hair and dressed in his finest garb- now regally decorated in a velvet cape of scarlet and gold. He looks so grown up. Magnificent, despite being collared by the crown.Vincent glances in my direction, and his eyes and cheeks gleam damp. The surrounding crowd of nobles he overlooks applaud, convinced they are tears of joy. But the truth is an old wound, picked bloody and sore.That was all he spared me that day. A glance.At first, the ceremony seems like a minor setback. But one week bleeds into three, and he does not speak to me.I leave the boy be.During the dead hours of night, there is a quiet knock at my door. Vincent tearfully hurls himself against me. I hold him as he sobs wetly into my chest through gnashed teeth, “I hate you, I hate you…”But even the warmth of her killer’s embrace is preferable to stewing in the cold silence of his lonely manor. Arms wrapped tight around my middle, he clings to me as though I am the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.Shoulders shaking, he cries and cries, and the poison that has been rotting him from the inside out over the past year spills from his lips.Vincent says that I stole his innocence. His mother from him. His very soul. He swears that he wants to die. And that he wishes he could kill me for tearing his life apart at the seams.He laments that he is powerless to do either.The boy wields the truth as a brand, and I let him scorch me. Over and over.
Murderer. Monster. You took everything from me. Your name isn’t Cedric. It is Death, Destruction and RUIN.
“Yes.” I whisper into his hair. Wherever I go, I leave fire in my footsteps. Bones and ash in my wake. “I am ruin, for I take everything.”Vincent screams into my robe, a wounded sound that hooks beneath my ribs and rips upwards, gutting me. The salt of tears embitters the air.“D-don’t leave me,” Rage is quick to bleed into fear. Fear that his lover, his last living relative will abandon him and he will be all alone. I’ve broken him, yet I am also the only thing holding him together. His fingers dig into my back in a terrified, bruising grip. “Don’t ever leave me.”“I would never.” Softly, I kiss the top of his head, and promise my boy that I will always keep him close, keep him safe. That I will paint London’s skies with blood and fire should anyone dare to harm my only son. My sweet, little love. My everything. “Never.”A promise made in blood, and one I will burn the world to keep. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ After such a night, I decided it would be best to allow Vincent to come to me on his own time. A week passes.To my surprise, he then sends me a letter, requesting to see me. It’s a formal thing, written on thick parchment and sealed with red wax.Heh. He’s taking his role of Guard Dog seriously, now.I find him in the rose garden, sipping tea.“I need your help,” He says, getting straight to business. “There have been a string of disappearances, and I need to know if any of your guests match the descriptions of the missing persons.”“Oh?” I say. “Your first case, hm?”“Yes.”The uncertainty in his voice tells me he doesn’t feel as though he is truly ready to bear his title.“Well, then,” I tap a claw on the table. “I suppose I’ll require payment, and then you may have a look at my guests.”Vincent huffs a laugh. “I suppose being your son doesn’t get me off the hook?”“No, love. Your duty begins today.” I give him a sad smile. "If you can’t make me laugh, I’ll settle for being entertained. Play chess with me, and I'll teach you a few things.”With nowhere else to turn, Vincent accepts. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Vincent is entirely unguarded as he overlooks the checkered board. Too open, too honest, and too bloody trusting. His first mistake.“What am I supposed to be learning?” The boy asks as he moves his first piece.“How to determine your opponent’s intentions. How to analyze and anticipate their strategies.” I tell him.“And how do you suggest I do that?” He asks, flicking his eyes to mine.I move my ebony knight forward. “You must see through their masks. Be equally as cunning, manipulative and merciless.”The boy loses laughably fast- I employ the same tactics on him as I did with his mother when we played. A cruel offense and ironclad defense.Vincent sighs in defeat.“You will master this, too, love.” I assure him. “Loss is our greatest teacher. Learn from your mistakes. Don’t think of them as failure- but wisdom gained.”As a gesture of good faith, I show him the bodies anyway. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ We play chess five days a week.The sun hangs high in the grey November sky, casting sun-dial shadows from the pieces aligned on the board.Vincent shivers. We could play indoors rather than in the rose garden, but his ability to strategize regardless of rain or sun must also be tested. His mind is his greatest weapon, and is in need of a good sharpening.“A pawn on your board is only a means to an end. You must remember that, love. Nothing, no one is exempt from collateral damage. Not even me- especially when it comes to protecting your life.”Vincent frowns. Nevertheless, he listens and watches as I reach for and close my claws around his ivory queen, taking her. I know what he is thinking as I pluck her from the board- as easily as I had plucked her from his life.
Claudia.
He had been hoping to distract me from her by leaving his bishop open.“You mustn't be afraid to make difficult sacrifices for the sake of the greater good. In fact, you will find your most powerful assets should be sacrificed when the stakes are at their highest. These decisions often must be made split-second. Hesitate, or contemplate them for too long, and you’re finished.”Vincent nods, absorbing the lesson as he plots his next move.“It’s called a Queen’s Gambit,” I tell him.Vincent's brow tightens.He then sacrifices every pawn afterwards in a too-little-too-late attempt to protect his vulnerable king.“Good. Now you are thinking with your head, rather than your heart.” Still, I proceed to take his pieces, one by one. “Alas, you were too late.”A harsh lesson, but one that shows should he ever fail to sacrifice a proverbial limb, he will not lose one, but all.“What did you learn today?” I ask after his king falls.“Don’t get attached to my pieces,” Vincent says, and I smile when he proceeds to set up the board again, determined not to admit defeat. “...Or people.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Vincent takes my teachings to heart.Emiline trains him in hand-to-hand combat while I keep his fencing sharp. It won’t do for him slack on either. Before long, he is lighter on his feet, and more intuitive.Two months later, he manages to corner me on the chessboard, leaving my king with no legal moves.And then it all becomes glaringly obvious. I bark a laugh.Vincent has only been pretending to lose miserably for this long. The first week may have been genuine, but I would bet all that since then, he has been watching me lay out my every strategy, and learning how to counter my tactics.“Oh, you’re good… Very good!”Vincent smiles from behind his steepled hands, unable to hide his mirth anymore.And then I am positively howling.Pride blooms warmly in my chest. Claudia never could beat me. Never even got close. But she also wasn’t willing to employ underhanded manipulative tactics, either. No, she was too bloody noble for that.“Congratulations, love!” Pounding the table, I wheeze hoarsely, unable to contain myself. “You’ve just outwitted Death!”Grinning, Vincent then puts out his hand in a show of sportsmanship. We shake and I stand.“I believe a celebration is in order,” I say, and he follows me. “ ‘Tis not everyday that I lose a game I have been playing since the 6th century. I’ve a vintage bottle of French wine older than the Queen, and this is just the occasion for it.”“Have you ever lost?”“Heh. No.” I admit, then dare to clap a hand on his shoulder as we walk inside. For a split-second, Vincent tenses- but then relaxes when he realizes I mean no more than a fond pat. “I must say, I am quite proud to have a son who can best me in a mere two months.”For the rest of the day, Vincent looks like the cat who swallowed the canary. He’s so pleased with himself that we polish off the entire bottle.I catch him watching me as I sip from my glass at the table while Emiline serves an extravagant dinner of suckling pig. Vincent’s gaze drunkenly crawls over my body, and then he shyly looks away with warm cheeks. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The following afternoon, Vincent drops by my parlor. I busy myself filling out death certificates while he wanders about and pretends to examine my specimen jars and skulls on the shelves. He smells anxious- but particularly sweet; he is on the cusp of his heat.I watch him through the fringe of my hair as he timidly makes his way over to me. He stands at my side rather awkwardly."What is it, love?"I turn towards him, and he’s a bit flushed. To my surprise he then drops down onto my thigh. I hold my breath when he leans into my chest.
“Daddy.”
A thrill swoops through me.“Hello, kitten.” I answer softly, sliding a careful hand around his waist. It has been so long since I’ve called him that. Vincent nuzzles against me, gathering my scent and he looks up with those wide, rose-gold eyes.Shyly leaning in, Vincent kisses me. Gently at first. But then he becomes more forceful and he repositions to straddle my lap, grinding against me with desperate, heated need. I match his hunger, but am careful not to push him.Until I feel his cock digging into my thigh, and my restraint snaps.He gasps into my mouth as I squeeze his ass in both hands, inquiring how far he will allow me to take this."Fuck me," He answers with shallow breath, and fumbles with his belt. "Hard."Ripping my trousers open, I shove my work to the floor and take him over my desk. Vincent is so shamelessly loud that I know passersby can hear him sobbing for it harder, deeper.But I can’t bring myself to care, because he is so devastatingly lovely, a shivering wreck with damp thighs wrapped around my waist.“Daddy,” He gasps as I drive into the hot clench of his cunt. “Ah!”“Fuck,” It’s too soon, but there’s no stopping it as I come first. Far faster than I ever have. “Gods, Vincent.”I pound him through his release, and he pants how he has missed this, being this close. Missed being held.He longs for that comfortable familiarity, that bond we once had before it came tumbling down like a delicately built house of cards. As do I.But it was all built upon lies.“I love you.” He says, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes causes something inside me to crack. Crack and bleed.And I don’t deserve it. I know that now.I want us to start over.A black tree, its bark the darkest shade of despair, stems from the poisoned soil of my soul. A tree that can only ever bear sick fruit because it is firmly rooted in a mountain of corpses. Corpses of everyone I've ever loved, outlived, and buried.The words that I allow to pass my lips feel flimsy at best, and empty at worst. Because they cannot even begin to atone for the ruin I’ve wrought upon this boy who still chooses to trust me, even after I’ve torn him apart. I wasn’t allowed to have him as a son; Claudia saw to that. So I did the unforgivable, and stitched him back up as the perfect plaything instead.But until I can do right by him, these words are all that I have.“And I love you, Vincent.” Rather than pulling out, I stay curled protectively over him, and drop my forehead to his. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On the cusp of eighteen, Vincent is such an elegant young man. Breathtaking. Wherever he goes, all eyes are on him. If not with lust or envy, then jealousy.He’s charismatic. Sharp as a whip. An expert in manipulation- no one is better than he at twisting the world around him until whatever he desires falls right into his hands. Though considering who his father is, I’d expect no less.Vincent blazes through Weston with exceptional brilliance and receives top marks in every class. Despite all odds being stacked against him, his ingenuity leads his house to victory in what has come to be known as the “Blue Miracle”. He even claimed another prefect as his fag. When he graduates, he is known as no less than a legend.Among his peers, he burns like the brightest star in the sky.
No.
If Vincent is anything, he is the moon, pearl of the night, and outshines all. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Having already faced and outwitted his most formidable opponent, Vincent navigates London’s underworld with relative ease.He is now twenty-three. Only a head shorter than me. Broad shouldered.Vincent makes a show of his fearlessness by inviting less-than-savory characters to his estate on a regular basis. In the company of wolves, I am his advisor. His right hand. His secret weapon. Should someone dare to cross him, I hunt them down and deliver my own brand of vengeance.Word spreads quickly that to cross the Phantomhives is to cross not only the Crown, but to invite Death to your door.We take to the billiards room and sit side by side. Tanaka, once his footman, now his trusted butler, pours him a glass of wine.Emiline serves the other guests in the dining hall, and keeps a sharp ear upon conservation."Did you know, m' Lord, that upon taking his own life, Socrates offered a rooster to the God of healing, Asclepius? To pay his debt?"Vincent cradles the glass in his palm. "And what debt might that have been?""To Socrates, death was not a defeat, but a cure. To illness. To age. To fear. What is there left to be afraid of once you have faced what all living things fight tooth and claw?"“The dark, I suppose?” His lips curl into a teasing smile.“But you, love, will never know the dark of when your fire burns out.”“Hm. Even as a child, I never was afraid of the dark.”Of course he wasn’t. I made sure of that.“Because you have too much of me in you.” I quietly laugh. “Death fears nothing, because Death is what all fear. The eternal dark. The beast of judgement. The end of all things.”A contemplative hum. “And yet, you are afraid to lose me.”Claudia lives on in that unforgivably sharp tongue of his.“Yes.” I don’t deny that. “Because you taught me to love again. And love teaches us to fear the pain of loss. Interesting, how man fears losing what he loves, almost as much as he fears death.”“And what would you do, were you to lose what you loved most?”He has asked me this a few times before. I think he likes to hear that I would not only kill, but burn the world to ash for him.“After exacting vengeance on an apocalyptic scale-” I lean in and cup his chin in my claws. “I would then use my most delicate and precise methods to revive you. Even if I had to rip your soul straight from the devil’s stomach, or bargain my eternal life for yours, I would bring you back.”A furtive glance to ensure no one but Tanaka is around, and my little love then closes the distance with a fierce kiss. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Two years later, Vincent is forced to find a wife. The time has come to secure an heir to his title, the Queen insists.He has had a few suitresses already, but two beta sisters, Rachel and Angeline, are his most promising candidates.Tonight, we dine with the golden-haired Rachel. Vincent has already spent the entire day with her, and he seems quite fond of this one.He introduces me as an informant, and tells her he must keep the company of a vast array of characters in his line of work.“This one does strike me as quite a character.” She smiles.Her warm reaction to me is quite different from his last visitor, who visibly cringed at the sight of a common mortician lounging around the drawing room.“Oh, I very much am, M’ lady!” I agree, then kiss her silk-gloved hand. “The liveliest in my parlor’s company.”“And what do you do, mister Cedric?” She asks, though I’m certain my black robes give away my profession.“I’m an undertaker.”She raises a brow and her lips quirk. “I suppose the rest of your company is rather stiff, then.”That quip wins her a hearty cackle.The three of us are seated at the dinner table, and Vincent proceeds to make light conversation. I can tell he is still nervous as to whether or not I will approve of her, but the first impression she made was stellar.“Poor Chlaus had his heart broken yet again.” He says. “These German beauties he continues to pursue can be rather brutal with a man’s feelings.”“ ‘Tis cruel to break someone's heart, as they only have one.” Rachel replies, and takes a sip of her wine. “Why not break their bones instead? They have 206 of them.”“My-!” Vincent sputters over his glass- but then he breaks into a grin when I howl with laughter at the deadpan delivery of that brutal joke. “My goodness!”“You never told me she had medical knowledge, M’ lord.” I say, once I pull myself together.“My sister is a gynecologist.” Rachel tells me. “So, I’ve picked up a bit of knowledge, here and there.”“Oh, I like her,” I grin at Vincent. “I like her very much.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Vincent takes Rachel as his wife.They honestly look lovely together, and the Queen approves of their coupling.It’s strange.I had expected to be engulfed by jealousy to see my love married off, but… no. It isn’t like that at all.Rachel is kind. She makes me laugh. And she treats me as a friend, rather than a guest in her home. Which almost makes me feel… guilty, when he and I take advantage of her being away to get fitted for a new dress.But Vincent still needs me to satisfy his most base urges. An Alpha’s knot, and no less.“I know that my husband is a man of certain… affections.” She says one day as she watches him go behind closed doors with Diedrich to discuss a particularly gruesome case. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”She’s a sharp one. And I am not one to insult her intelligence by trying to lie to her.“He is indeed, m’ lady. Has been as long as I have known him.”“And how long is that?”
His entire life.
“Many years.”“And the bite on his shoulder?” She delves deeper. “He doesn’t talk about it, and I haven’t asked. Is it…?”“Mine?” I admit. “Yes.”She sighs. “I say, it is a relief to know that.”I give her a wary look. “It is?”“Yes. Many Omegas carry the bite of their first tryst. Someone they will never see again, or someone who used them and cruelly cast them aside afterwards.” She then lowers her voice before saying, “My sister is one of them. But you very much care for him. I think…”She watches as Vincent comes out of the room, looking quite pleased while Diedrich wears his exasperated frown. Rachel smiles.“I think he would be terribly lonely without you.”“And what about you, M’ lady? Sharing him does not make you lonely?”“Oh, heavens, no. To be blunt, I am quite relieved that he is not the type to be siring children with multiple mistresses, as noble men are prone. And I rather like that I know who I am sharing him with.” Rachel looks at me. “He is a good man, and I am happy to welcome him into my home.”‘Tis rare that a human renders me speechless. But for a long moment, I do not know what to say.“Thank you, m’ lady.” I finally spit out. “Truly. You are one of a kind.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The following year, I help Rachel give birth to twin boys. The little pups are perfect. Darling. They have Rachel’s sapphire eyes and Vincent’s slate hair.And Vincent is a good father. He is patient, understanding. Fiercely protective of his sons.“Is this how you felt when I was born?” Vincent marvels at little Ciel as he cradles the child, now three months old.It should be a simple question. For any other father, I suppose it probably would be.But not for me.“Yes… and no.” I say quietly.“What do you mean?”“It was an unparalleled joy. But it also… hurt.”“It… hurt?” Vincent’s brows pinch. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. And I hope he will never have to.“Yes. It hurt because I couldn’t be there for you as I wanted to be. I could only visit your cradle in the dead of the night. We…”Claudia thought I was dead.“...she and I were at odds, at the time.”Vincent looks like he regrets asking. For a moment, he is quiet. But then his eyes spark with recollection.“When I was little, I used to awaken to a shadow in the corner of my room. I wasn’t afraid, though, and called him the grey man. She-” He pauses, licks his lips. Debates whether or not to mention his mother by name. “She thought I was dreaming when I told her a spectre would come play with me at night. But it- that was you, wasn't it?”“I… I wanted to hold you,” My voice cracks.But I feared my little pup would begin crying. I no longer shared his mother's scent, and was a stranger, scarred, darkly dressed and intimidating. And I don’t think my heart could have taken it, if he was afraid of me.Though perhaps if I could have held him, it would have cemented my bond with him, and I wouldn’t have taken our relationship and twisted it into this… thing which grew and mutated like a virus.“To tell you that you were my son and how much I loved you, but I couldn’t. I had to settle for letting you play with these.” I clutch my prayer beads. “Do you remember that?”Vincent nods slowly.The dam around my heart breaks and I suck in a harsh breath. At long last, it all spills forth.“But more than anything, it hurt because I knew that all the love in the world would not stop my fragile son from aging, and that one day, I would have to watch you die.” My throat clenches painfully, and a single tear spills from my eye. “It was then that I knew I must do everything in my power to prevent that. I won’t lose you as I’ve lost everyone else, Vincent.”“I…” Vincent draws a sharp breath, and holds Ciel closer. “I understand.”“No. Pray that you never do. For if you did, you’d have scars like mine, love.” I say. “You’d have scars like mine. I suppose it is time I tell you how I got them.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Everything I long for is always just too far
Everything I hope for never comes to be
Everything I bleed for burns a scar on me
Everything I fight for leaves a bitter taste
Everything I cry for laughs into my face
Everything I scream for barely knows my name
Everything I would die for dies just the same
In here, with me
-The End of Things by Gary Numan
Molly tries to take a sip of broth and coughs, but this time, she doesn't stop.I stand, taking the bowl from her and setting it on the nightstand. “Are you all right, love?” She has been sick for nearly two weeks. A fever and chills, and she’s had trouble eating. Something cruel gnaws at the back of my mind, telling me I have seen this far too many times to write it off as a mere cold. But I don’t want to believe it.To believe it is to accept it. Which I cannot.She struggles to respond as she sucks in a ragged gasp. When the fit finally ends, she pulls her hand away from her mouth and flecks of bright red blood glint in the firelight. My bones hollow as reality at last crashes into me at brutal speed. No .“Wh- why am I bleeding?” She asks hoarsely. I have to steady myself against the dinner table so as not to collapse.“M-must have bitten your tongue coughing,” I lie, then whip around and pour a cup of broth for myself to hide my crumpling face. I haven't the heart to tell her. Not yet. Consumption . It is going to kill my daughter, slowly. Painfully. Just as it killed her mother a month prior. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.Once I’ve gathered myself, I gently clean her fingers and palm with a rag and warm water. To think that these little hands will never grow any bigger, or ever wrinkle with age. That her time is ending before it has even truly begun. Molly has only just turned eleven.“Do you think you can drink at least half of this for me?” I ask, nodding to the bowl. “You need your strength.”She nods, tiredly. “Can I braid your hair after?”Her favorite thing, braiding and tying flowers or feathers and anything else she thinks is pretty into my hair. “O-of course, love.” I choke on a wet sob. “You can braid it as much as you’d like.”I draw her into my arms, holding her tight even as my heart begins to crumble in my chest like wet sand.“Why are you crying, Daddy?”Because I will bury my heart alongside you. Because it isn't fair . Robbers, rapists, murderers- many of them go on to live full lives hurting others while you have a month at best, and you've done nothing but love.Because you are innocent and deserve to see life's wonders and yet your flame will be extinguished before you've experienced even a fraction of it. Because I have the power of a God and yet I cannot save my own daughter.“Because I love you more than my heart can hold.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Molly grows sicker. And I, more desperate to find some way to save her.Every medical text I can get my hands on tells me the same thing- that her illness is an irreversible death sentence. I couldn’t even improve her mother's symptoms. It took her first, cruel and swift. So I resort to more desperate measures. I buy a surgical kit and a shop, then begin practicing. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Sleep is no longer an option. I chew on raw coca leaves to stay alert as I perform exploratory surgery on those dying of consumption to see if there is anything I could possibly be missing, or something humans may not have tried yet. I move Molly into the shop with me, and keep her upstairs in a little room away from the stench of death.The hours of the day are too short. My hands are unsteady from shot nerves and lack of rest. And there are not nearly enough people for me to work on. I often jolt awake with my scalpel and forceps in hand and the windows dark. Neither time nor circumstance are on my side. Breaking the more concrete laws of life and death seems to be my only option. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ A floorboard creaks beneath my boots as I creep through a barely-standing home in the east end. Pausing, I listen. But the breaths throughout the house remain steady and even with sleep.Save for the littlest one, who coughs. Curled up in a ball, he doesn't even seem to know I am here. His eyes must be closed, or he assumes I am his father coming to check on him.Only a cot and some old, thready towels serving as curtains furnish the child's bedroom. The family is piss-poor. I raise a readied rag treated with a minute dose of ether and without hesitation, clap it over the child's face. But the boy is so weak he doesn't even struggle. There's only a gasp and a brief flutter of the eyes before he goes limp.His heart rate is slow. Tired. He has a few days, at best.“I'm sorry.” I whisper.And I am. Hollow and worthless words, though, considering what I am about to do. For what I am taking from him and his family, who have naught but one another.Carefully, I gather him up and when his head rolls limply over my bicep, my stomach turns to stone. Will Molly feel like this in my arms, should I fail to save her?On his cot I leave a leather pouch behind, containing enough money for those who remain to purchase a new home far from the east end. A meager comfort for when they awaken to their lives shattered in the morning.He was the first.I begin abducting infected children from their bedrooms to practice upon, and try not to think of how I am also robbing them of their last days with their parents and siblings in my desperation to salvage my own daughter. But I will do anything. Anything . Even become a monster, if it means she has the slightest chance of surviving. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ It was inevitable.When my daughter dies, I howl and punch the earth until a fissure a mile wide rips across the meadow. Molly wanted to see the wildflowers one last time, so I carried her to her favorite place.“So pretty…” She murmured before her eyes went dim, and just like that, she was gone. My legs buckle out from beneath me as I sob into her hair. A chasm in my chest opens, deep enough to dig my fist into. Through bleary eyes, I watch the marigolds wave among the grass like candles in the wind. The sun is bright, and birds flit and twitter through a cloudless sky. How… ordinary, the world still is, as though my heart hasn't been torn open at the seams. Time stops for no one. Not even Death.Hours pass before I can bring myself to reap and bury her there. She is returned to the earth unaltered, and her record flows into the specially made locket I prepared for her.I don't remember when the grass beneath my boots shifted to cobblestone. Or when I made it back to my shop, devastatingly aware of the lack of weight in my arms.Slowly, a numbness creeps in like a sickness. All I have left of my daughter are memories, memories and the little braid she weaved into my hair.Without her, I am alone with only the company of the dead in my parlor. Alone with the others that I failed. That I slaughtered.Alone with the children I ripped from their homes; whom their mummies and daddies will never find, and I know they will never stop looking for them. I lock the door and sit in the dark. The hearth smolders into embers but I don't care to feed the fire. Hours bleed into days. Weeks, maybe; time loses all meaning. I don't eat. Nor sleep. Only sink. Deeper and deeper.It's so wretchedly quiet in here without her. The dead rot. I can hear hundreds of maggots chewing through purifying flesh. The gruesomely beautiful process of life cycling anew.Passersby pound on my door and call out, concerned about the stench. They must think I died. Who knows. Perhaps I have. I light a few candles and pick up a bone saw, and am admittedly startled by the disheveled thing with bloodshot eyes glaring back at me in the blade’s gleam. Cold steel bites through flesh, muscle, grinds into bone. Pain roars through my hand as the hot seep of blood pools under my palm, slick. The digit separates.It's a hateful, red throb.Then I begin to laugh. Laugh the way Molly coughed, chest fully shaking, violent and hoarse.Because it's proof that, somehow, I'm still alive. A monster who steals and cuts open children in the night lives , but my Molly will never return.The laws of life and death are a bloody joke.Hysterical, I laugh even as I carefully sew it back on, and the flesh gradually melts back together. But this time, it is marred by a scar, pink and shiny. I suppose the lack of sleep is draining my power to heal.Were I not immortal - For a moment, I pause, then howl with laughter. What a fool I've been. It's been staring me in the face this whole time, and yet I was utterly blind to it.It's not the body I need to be focused on repairing, but somehow altering the soul.I look to the pile of rotting flesh in the corner, stacked nearly as high as me. So many lives, wasted, stolen before their appointed time. All because I couldn't see what was right in front of me. Because I couldn't let her go.
I killed them I killed them I killed them
Fanning the fingers of my left hand out over my desk, I rake the saw across all at once.But it's not enough. It needs to hurt more . Far more. Pain as penance.I move the blade higher and sever my entire hand. Clutching the bloody stump, I dig my fingers into the glistening red meat of it. By the time I reattach it, I’m dizzy. But still unsatisfied.So I saw off my legs, too. First at the calf, then at the thigh. A sweet, fierce ache rips through my every nerve as I saw through tendon and bone. Agony. Ecstasy. Atonement . For every life I sacrificed for my own child's, I will bear a scar. A permanent reminder of my sins.Before long, I look like a haphazardly stitched-together doll.But it's no less than I deserve for what I've done, what I've taken from them. Perhaps I can even help them live again, in some way. Once I stop shaking from blood loss, I toss all of their bodies into the incinerator. I scrape out their ashes and fold them into flour, cinnamon and nutmeg, and bake them into funeral biscuits. I will consume their sins, ensuring they pass on to the isle of gold, regardless of what they may have done in life. “I will live forever,” I murmur, then snap into one. “And now, so shall you.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ “There…” I place the spliced record into a silver locket. Carefully, I tuck it into the body's chest cavity and sew the man back up. To my shock, the body suddenly sits up in the coffin. I watch his chest rise and fall with breath. Life .It worked. I put his record on a circular loop so it would never end.“Can you tell me your name?” He slowly turns his head towards me and groans.“Your name, sir?” I try again.He can hear, but as I put my finger in front of his face, his eyes remain unfocused and fail to follow it as it moves.Blind, it would seem. And he likely does not have adequate brain function. He'll need more work.He lunges, snapping his jaws. I plunge the syringe into his neck, unloading a sedative.Hm. Aggressive, too.Regardless, it's a step in the right direction. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I shovel dirt out of Molly's grave till I uncover the lily white of her skin. Seeing her like this breaks my heart all over again. My precious child, so pale and still. But if I am to bring her back, I must do so now before she decays any further. I can always make improvements later.I haul her out of the earth and carry her home. With her record spliced, I watch her awaken like the others. But I made special alterations to hers, giving her plenty of episodes to cycle through. Molly looks at me, eyes milky. But unlike the others, her gaze pinpoints my face.She can see .“D-daddy?” I choke on a sob and pull her into my arms.She's cool to the touch, lips bruise blue, but she knows me. She knows her Daddy. “Molly… my sweet little love.”“Cold.” I light the fireplace and wrap a blanket around her shoulders. Her circulatory system is sluggish. She needs another transfusion.Crimson snakes from my arm into hers through the rubber tube, and Molly sighs with relief.“Better?” She nods. “I was … asleep?” “Yes. For quite a while.” Now is not the time to tell her. Later.“Do you feel hungry at all?”“No. Thirsty. I want… I…”She swallows. I nearly jolt as she rips the needle from her arm and chews on the transfusion tube.Her eyes gleam with an animalistic, ravenous hunger. The lack of fresh blood in her body must drive her to seek all means of acquiring it, including ingestion- explaining the aggression of my previous subjects.“Here, love.” Gently, I take it away then roll up my sleeve, exposing my forearm. “Take what you need.”There's not even a split second of hesitation on her part. Molly lunges, little teeth clamping down and she sucks hard from the wound. I use the distraction to put the needle back in place to continue the transfusion.“When you are satisfied-”Green light blares through my shop.
No.
Pulling the needle from my arm and Molly towards me, I then tuck her behind the shield of my back. Only then does she let go. “Stay behind me.” I knew they would come. I just didn't know when. Two reapers step through the portal. A clipboard is produced.“Cedric K. Ros, you are hereby charged with the following crimes- kidnapping. Murder. Illicit human experimentation. Consorting with mortals, and failure to return collected human souls.” The tallest one calls me by my chosen mortal name, getting right to the point.
‘Have they already forgotten me?’
“You will come q-”Molly suddenly lunges out from behind me and sinks her teeth into the meat of his hand. I grab her by the arm, yanking her back.But not before the other reaper attacks. I raise my scythe to block him. Our weapons clang together.“Don't touch her!” I roar.He looks at my daughter, notes her faint outline of her irises and pale flesh.“You… you didn't .”“Yes. I did.”I broke the unbreakable law, and the dead now rise at my command. God no longer determines human lifespan. I do.Shoving him backwards, I kick him in the gut. He stumbles into my desk. Molly then charges for him, teeth red and bared. Her bloodthirst is out of control.“Molly, come back!” I reach for her, but then a blade crashes into my thigh, faltering my gait. My fingers close around empty space. The shorter reaper threw his weapon. I tear it from my leg, shredding tissues. “An abomination.” The tallest one skewers Molly’s head on his blade. Her record floods out, the locket containing her soul broken. Tendrils of her life reach for me, and I, her, but then they are sucked back into the pages of his to-die list.Molly falls lifelessly limp.My jaw drops open, but I cannot even hear myself scream as I shatter into a million pieces. No No No I had fixed her, she was here with me When he rips his blade free, pieces of her break away with it, and I explode.In a swift arc, I decapitate her killer, a wound he cannot heal from. Then I tear into him with a guttural roar, slicing him over and over, raking entrails out of his body.The other tries to pull me off of him. I spin him around and plunge my scythe through his back. Just as I yank it out, I hear Molly wheeze weakly, making me pause.Mortally wounded, the reaper takes advantage of the momentary distraction to drag his bleeding carcass to the portal. I rush to my daughter and cradle her head to my heart. “Molly? Molly!” She's gone, of course. No human could survive such a horrific injury. The wheeze I heard was no more than a death rattle. A sound I've heard a million times. But hope makes us naive.With the brain destroyed and her soul stolen, there is nothing I can do to bring her back this time. Once again, I feel my child growing cold in my arms.I hold her, rocking her as I did when she was smaller. Until the blood soaking my cassock thickens. Desperately hoping against hope that she’ll somehow wake up. She doesn’t.I wail with despair, but I’ve no tears left to cry. No, there is only the roiling, black rage brewing in my chest, and it calls for their blood. I'll kill them. I'll kill them all . ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Blood and viscera is caked in my hair and collects like mud under my nails.My ears still ring with their screams of terror, the desperate calls to bring me down. But they were moths swarming a flame, and all who neared my rage burned. But with numbers on their side, I am not without injury. A wheezing rattle in my lungs tells me that I'm bleeding internally. Behind me drags my ruined leg. Running through my eye, nose and cheek is a cut carved deeply enough to scar. I laughed when the reaper gave it to me, just before I caved his skull in. Bits of his brain still clings to my fingers.Now, all has fallen quiet, save for the drip-drip of blood. Chunks of meat and grey and pink ropes of intestine are strewn across the floor. Limbs torn from trunks. Twisted and broken bodies are buried under slabs of drywall and broken glass.I turned their gleaming white halls into red-spattered rubble. In one hand I clutch Molly's record, safely tucked into a new locket. And in the other, the right arm of the reaper who fled my shop. It’s all that was left of him.I plan on eating it, along with what remains of his bastard partner. One last act of vengeance. Molly would want me too, I think.As I near the exit, I hear the rapid pulse of a sole survivor.“I can hear your heart thundering,” I hiss, closing in on the room they've holed up in. “Smell the sweat rolling down your neck.”Eye charts. Clipboards. Spectacles. A recruitment room. I ready my scythe.There's the quiet clap of skin as they clamp a hand over their mouth to stifle their panicked breath. “I've killed your comrades,” I smear a bloody handprint down the wall inside the doorway as I lean against it. “Every. Single. One. And it's still not enough blood to atone for what they stole from me. I lived and breathed for her. And they cut her down like she was nothing.”They don’t respond. But I didn’t expect they would.“Do you know who I am?”“N-no, sir.” A boy. Young. Perhaps only a few years older than Molly was. I wonder what drove him to take his own life. I grunt as the bones in my leg audibly pop back into place.“An ancient overseer, forgotten by time. I was there when the foundations of the planet were sculpted. When the cell split and multiplied to create your shape. I reaped the earth of her molten heart during the first rebirth. I'm older than God.”Silence.“I… we thought you were a myth.” How quickly they forget where they came from, that their power is but a minute branch of my own. An eagerly accepted gift which they then used to spit in my face.“Far from it.” The acrid stench of urine as he pisses himself.“Do you want to live?”“Yes, s-sir.”“I will let you, if you tell them; the higher-ups. Tell them to never come for me. All they send will die. I am Death Eternal, the beast of judgment. And should they ever lay a hand on my children again, I will show them what I am truly capable of.” I stamp the floor with my scythe, and a black aura ripples outward. Rot eats away the desk like termites, revealing the petrified novice reaper huddled beneath.What walls still stand bloom with dark spots like mold. They begin to decay and crumble into dust around us.I open a portal and leave, knowing I've wrought enough havoc to keep them away from me just long enough to grieve. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ “Fifty-seven years ago, I had a daughter. Molly .” Undertaker says her name with a similar tenderness as he does mine. But it’s… different. In a purely fatherly sense. “And when her appointed time came, I…” His eyes squeeze shut as he draws a shuddering breath. “She was only eleven years old. Her life had barely even begun . But consumption had ravaged her body. I was powerless to save her. And when she went still and cold in my arms…”Undertaker swallows.“The best part of me died that day. Millions. I took millions of lives before that, and shed tears for only a select few. But with her…”Ciel coos in my arms and I softly hush him.“Never have I ever felt so broken. I screamed and screamed. My fists bruised from how hard I pounded the earth. Despair makes us senseless. I cut off pieces of myself just to feel… something. Anything .” Undertaker pours himself a generous glass of wine. “I reattached them later, but when your heart rots in your chest and you go numb, you will do anything to remind yourself that you’re still alive, and you didn’t die with them.”He taps his claw on the table, emphasizing that the digit still works even though it is ringed with scar tissue.“It didn’t make sense. Thieves. Rapists. Murderers. Many of them go on to live full lives, but my Molly, who in her short years had done no harm and was full of so much love… That’s when I truly began to question the laws of life and death.”Abandoning decorum, he downs half of the glass.“Maddened with grief, I went to unforgivable lengths to return her life. I had her, Vincent, I had her in my arms again- and then enforcers of the unbreakable laws came. They slaughtered her in front of me. Then they stole her soul so I couldn't bring her back again.”I look at my son. If anything were to happen to him, would I do the same? Ciel's little fingers close around my thumb, and he looks at me through Rachel's eyes. Yes . No matter what the cost.“So, I walked into… well, the place where all souls are stored and I tried to take her from them.”“Heaven?” That earns me a wry smile. “More like Hell, if you ask me. The ones running the show refused to reunite us, and they fought me. But I was stronger. More livid. I cut down all who stood in my way.” He huffs a laugh. “Oh, they left their marks, but honestly, they didn’t stand a chance. I gutted the place to rubble, and am still a wanted man for that one. Hehee.”His biceps and thighs are ringed with scars that imply the limbs were once fully severed. Though whether he dismembered himself when grieving his daughter, or they were wounds sustained in a fight, he does not clarify.“I think the scars add a bit of rugged mystique.” Cedric winks.Faintly, I smile.“Did you get her back?”He polishes off the rest of the wine, straight from the bottle.“Her rec- memories . Yes. Though her body was no longer an option for resurrection. But being able to hold some part of her once more was still a great comfort. She is still with me, everywhere I go.” Undertaker pats his chain of mourning jewelry. “She’s in there?” I ask. “Yes. Along with a few others I treasured.”Suddenly so many things make sense. Why he became a surgeon. His experiments in trying to revive the dead. His obsession with me. Undertaker looks as though he is waiting for me to ask if he kept my mother too. But I don't. Some things are better left buried.“When I die… will you keep my soul as well?”“Yes. But only until I can bring you back. I will keep you in here,” He says, holding up his ring, specially crafted with panels of uranium glass and connemara marble. Tucked inside is a lock of my hair. “Safe with me.” I nod and am quiet for a few moments, absorbing all he has told me. “And if anything w-were to happen t-” My throat bobs with a hard swallow, unable to even complete that thought. It’s too devastating. And far too real of a possibility.“I will protect them.” He swears. “And should I fail for any reason, by any means necessary, I will revive them. As sure as my love for you.”I believe him. ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ I’m terribly thankful that Rachel is so understanding and allows Undertaker to take care of me during my heats. We’ve come to a mutually beneficial arrangement- Undertaker satisfies me, and Diederich, when his schedule allows, takes care of her needs when I am unable. Being a bachelor, he is happy to oblige. I isolate in the most lavish guest room, and Rachel and Emiline tell the boys that I am ill and to not enter, lest they catch my sickness. Undertaker, known as the family doctor, can come and go without suspicion.I stir awake at the sound of running feet and laughter in the hallway. The twins are seven years old now.How time flies.Shafts of light beam through the windows. It must be a few hours past dawn. I groan before reaching for Undertaker’s forearm and squeezing it. He rumbles lazily behind me, his knees bracketing my hips.“Mm.” He lays an open mouth kiss on my gland, and I bite into my pillow to stifle a moan when he grinds on me; hard and ready to fuck my shape into the mattress before he is even fully awake. “Sweet love.”“I’d love to, but I need to piss first.”Undertaker snorts helplessly. He detaches his grip, and I peel away from him. “Don’t be long.”When I return and slide into bed, Undertaker’s hair curtains his eyes. He pulls me close, my back into his chest. His grasp tightens. But not with possession- he holds me as though he thinks I’ll slip through his hands like water.“Don’t ever change, Vincent.” He murmurs. “You’re a good father, and a good man. And I wish…”He sucks in a harsh breath. I smell the salt of tears just before the regret bleeds into his voice.“I wish I had been the father that you deserved .”“Cedric…” I turn over. Tears are streaming down his face. “What brought this on?”“The rose. Your time… it’s coming to an end.”The blood in my veins freezes over.Of course he would know. But I had hidden the rose away, content in never knowing when my time would come.“...When?”“Soon. Two, three years at most.”“But… but you can bring me back, right?”“Yes. I’ve no doubt of that. But I’m not-” He pauses. “You don’t know what it’s like .” Losing a child .He swallows down a wet sob. “It sickens me to think I will have to see you that way.”“Look on the bright side,” I smile, "I'll be preserved when I’m most attractive.”That earns me a weak laugh. “You’re the one dying, and somehow handling it better than I am.”“Because I know you won’t let me sleep for long.” I say, hoping to soften the blow, then cup his face. “It’ll be like drifting off to sleep, right?”But the truth is that I'm so tired. The game has worn on for far too long. Cornered on the opposition's chessboard, I've few moves to make, and am ready for my final piece to fall.“More or less.” He says. “I’ll collect your body and soul, and then wake you when the time is right. But in the meantime, I’ll do my best to keep your boys safe, and Diedrich in line, too.”“Poor Diedrich.” I chuckle. “Go easy on him.”“But he's so fun to tease. Hehehee.” ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ Since the moment I awoke this morning, I have felt a hollow ache in my core.I force a smile, though, because a frown just won't do on my sons’ birthday.But throughout the day, it persistently gnaws at the pit of my stomach. A feeling. One not unlike when I had questioned if Cedric was indeed my father.“One gift each for now, and you both can open the rest later this evening. After cake.” I spoil my boys a bit with early presents. “Thank you, father!” They hug me, and I hold them just a little tighter than usual, savoring the moment. “Memories are all we have when the last breath comes. Make good ones, love. Ones that make you laugh, and smile.” Undertaker had said that day. None the wiser, they then tear into the wrapping paper and bows. Walking up the staircase, I turn and look at them once more before retiring to the master bedroom. I remember smiling and laughing like that. When my life seemed endless, too far to see. And I thought everyone I loved would live for eternity. When love was painless. But that seems like a lifetime ago.Quietly, I close the door behind me. The hidden drawer to my bureau creaks, and lay my hand on the cool wood of the velvet-lined memory box hidden within. Seven years. It has been nearly seven years since I opened it. Dare I look? Hesitating for a moment, I then slowly lift the lid to find the bloom of the black rose has shriveled dry and brittle, dehydrated of its velvety softness. Carefully, I pick it up, and a petal breaks off and flutters to the floor. I step on it, and with a sad crackle, it grinds to dust beneath the toe of my shoe.
Today.
There is no question. I am going to die today. On my sons’ birthday , no less. How cruel.I huff a dry laugh.
No.
The Undertaker will never let me go. I will not ascend to heaven, nor stand before God. Death is older than even he, and I belong to him.Cedric will paint the skies with blood and fire to avenge me, and if he must, dredge up my soul from the depths of hell to reunite me with my body, so I may once again be his plaything. I’m like an old toy, something battered and abused before the child learns empathy. But when afraid, held close for comfort. And when my keeper can at last reflect on the fond memories he made growing with me, I’m broken. He did his best to mend my torn seams, but I'm ugly with stitches that only he knows are there. But my affairs are in order, and an heir to my position is secured. At least until I return.And there is no doubt in my mind that I shall. "The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"Edgar Allan Poe╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ The End