Chapter Text
It wasn't supposed to last this long, Noe thinks as he awkwardly stares at his shoes. Ruthven continues his spiel over vampire history and the strong bonds and the blah blah blah. The bookshelves look orange in the setting sun, and a faint pull tugs at Noe's heart. He'd rather be with Vanitas right now, eating an early dinner on the roof top, watching the pigeons edge ever closer. He'd scowl as the dark-haired chaos would flap his arms erratically, keeping all the scraps for himself.
Noe sighs. He can't help it, even his teacher was more interesting than this! Plus, if the teacher thought this information irrelevant, then Noe didn't find much purpose in it either.
"-I do find you rather intriguing." Ruthven finishes, looking away from the giant book to stare at Noe. Gosh darn it, what did he miss.
"Oh, thank you." Noe says, not really knowing what he is thanking the older man for. Much older. His mind supplies, looking into the golden eye that reminds Noe of the owls perched on the tree branches back home. They'd coo at him, cautious. Noe pretended not to notice, and faltered when the gaze swiveled to look directly at him. Gold. Not so old, though. Something heavy which every vampire could feel in Ruthven's presence. An urge to bow. It was silly, but Noe felt respect for him despite barely knowing him. Did Vanitas feel it too?
"I should really be heading back now.” Noe looks past the curtains nervously, the first star of the night that Vanitas always likes to point out shining vaguely. It could be a planet, for all Noe knows. But Vanitas wouldn’t lie to him.
"Right, back to your lover boy, no?" Ruthven sounds oddly confident in his statement. He stands up. “I bet he moans real pretty in bed."
Noe blushes red, feeling the warmth of blood sink into his cheeks. "It's- what?” Noe blanches, lost for words. Where did this even come from? “We're not like that." He finishes, shaking his head at the image of Vanitas beneath him, gasping as Noe sinks his teeth into his shoulder and-
"Oh?" Ruthven steps forward, and Noe steps back. The juts of his spine hit the bookshelves lightly. Were they always standing this close? "Shame." The vampire says, taking a final step forward. A nose traces over his neck, and Noe holds back a shiver. This felt… off. “You are a pretty one.”
"Do you need blood?" Noe asks, pressing his hands against an assortment of expensive looking leather-wrapped books which Noe had read the titles of multiple times during Ruthven’s speech. All things like economics and geography. Nothing Noe would be inherently interested in. Maybe Ruthven sensed he was bored? Was that why?
"Sure." Ruthven answers, but it doesn't feel like an answer. The man pushes his leg between Noe's thighs, nearly lifting the younger man off his feet. Noe chuckles nervously as he attempts to regain balance, his fingers digging into the nooks of two unlucky books.
"Okay, try not to drink too much because Domi isn't around." Noe explains matter of factly. "It makes me really tired and Vanitas needs me tomorrow."
"Domi?" Ruthven’s breath fans against his neck. The scarred skin tingles.
"Dominique, my sister?" Noe is surprised the lord couldn't put two and two together. He was smart, much smarter than Noe! But Ruthven did seem distracted.
"Oh, her. Don't worry about that, boy." Noe worries. Ruthven had a hungry look in his eyes; Domi never looked at him like this. Domi’s eyes always went soft, her lips lifting in a smile as her teeth break out - hungry, but satisfied. This was not hunger. This was something else.
Noe almost says something when he feels teeth titter over his neck experimentally. Noe tenses despite himself- it feels ticklish, and he knows this will hurt. Ruthven begins to lap at the area in question; but it feels slimy. Before Noe can reject the request, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, sharp fangs pierce his skin.
Noe gasps at the pain, waiting for Ruthvens relievers to release from the fangs and make the pain hurt less. Thankfully, Ruthven does so immediately. And then he continues. And continues. Noe isn't sure whats happening, suddenly feeling very hot and then very cold. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. They straggle uselessly over golden lettering, over green fabric and dated leather.
“Mmf!” A wave of cold heat hits him. His stomach twists and seems to scrunch up within itself. It hurts, it feel weird. The start of a sultry moan escapes him before he can bite his lip, fangs elongated at the smell of blood - his blood - and Noe feels instantly embarrassed. Ruthven pulls and pulls with his mouth, pushing his hand away as he tries to bat Ruthven with a fist. Softly, mind you! He knows vampires can get a little… handsy… when feeding. Noe tips slightly to the side, only having one hand to keep himself stable. The thigh tenses against Noe’s groin and Ruthven grumbles something against his neck. The man doesn’t slow down, however. He doesn’t show a sign of stopping.
Noe starts to struggle, some natural instinct to get out from a dangerous situation. He slaps a hand against the man's broad chest, who growls threateningly as Noe tries to shift his neck around. His skin twists around the teeth.
"Stop-" He gasps, feeling not so cold anymore. It's just hot, hot, overbearingly hot. God. All the sun has gone. The moon must be rising, because white light shines in Ruthven’s eye. It makes it look copper, it makes it look fake.
"You taste divine." Ruthven says, licking his pomegranate lips, and he lets go all at once. Noe slides to the ground, barely keeping himself up as his hands lose their grip. He brings a hand against his neck, trying to stem the bleeding. It's ridiculous. He doesn't even really need blood. But Ruthven bit into him like a piece of tarte, it wasn't clean like Domi always does. Two little pinpricks of love, two people sharing a gift. There are gashes in his neck, now, big enough to be considered one hole. It pulses in time with his heartbeat. He tries to gather his bearings, attempting to stand up, one hand clenched to his neck, already feeling sticky, and the other shaking lightly. Ruthven laughs above him.
"Guess I bit off more than you could handle." And then there's a hand on his shirt and he's being lifted and he's in the air suddenly but then he slams onto the mahogany of Ruthven's desk. His head snaps to the side in a belated attempt to stop the inevitable face plant. His nose aches like hell and he can't breathe. Everything smells like copper and-
This is the first time he's had a nosebleed.
It's so stupid. So dumb. But Noe starts to cry. It's not loud, it's very quiet. Like that time he accidentally stood on a grasshopper. A silent pity for a being so innocent and unassuming, that tears stream down his eyes in guilt. He doesn't quite know he's crying, but the grasshopper does, its antenna twitches when a drop falls onto him. It's salty. Like old blood. Why was he crying? It was just a nose bleed; his first ever nose bleed. Vanitas will be so surprised when I tell him! Noe thinks, feeling a little better. Beyond the tears, there's something like pleasure working up his chest. The remnants of Ruthven’s relievers travel from his neck down, and his toes clench as that weird feeling attacks his stomach again.
He feels really wrong but also like he's never felt any better. There's a hand working on his belt and he realizes Ruthven's trying to undress him. He yelps as his pants are shoved down, underwear ripped apart. He'd have to go clothes shopping with Vanitas later. He packed pretty light, but he wasn't expecting his belongings to be threatened every step of his journey. At least Murr was okay. That's all that really mattered, anyways. Who cares about some expensive underwear his teacher bought him a year ago in preparation for his journey to France? His teacher always said that materialism was for fools. It sounded a little strange from his mouth, as they sat in the mansion's courtyard, but he wasn't about to correct him. Materialism is for fools, he repeats as his undershirt is also ripped off.
He strains his head to see what Ruthven is thinking, but he only finds malice. A cool smirk and a furrowed eyebrow. He notices Noe's staring and presses his hand against the back of Noe's head, dragging his face across the bloody desk.
"R-Ruthven?" He gasps, still in denial. Maybe he tasted much worse than Ruthven let on. Or maybe this was some sort of torture method. Ruthven must need more information. Noe knew something Ruthven didn't. But what? Noe racks his mind for anything, anything that could be of use.
"Vani- Vanitas," He starts, grasping for straws. "He's, uh, he doesn't like me."
"Yeah, tell me something I don't know." It's a weird tone, and Noe can't tell if he's satisfied or not. “He couldn’t wait to get away from you.”
"He," Noe tries again, as he feels a hand circling over his hip and he's dragged closer to the man. "He likes, high places-" Noe mouths as he's thrusted at, a clothed dick straining to be released digs against his backside. "And, Jeanne, sort of."
"Be quiet, boy." There's nothing there. No interest, no disappointment. This man does not care about anything he could say. He wants nothing. How old must one get, to want for nothing more? Noe is dizzy with confusion, and something else.
"Why are you doing this?" He asks desperately as something wet presses against his dick. Fingers, a hand, a wrist caressing his privates with a tender hold. Noe gasps pathetically as the man strokes him, the gentle touch feeling at odds with the situation. He chokes on a moan, biting into his lip once more. He feels so dizzy. All he can smell is copper and the metallic tang in his mouth only reminds him how thirsty he is. Noe tries to kick the man away, but his legs are so limp and useless that he barely lands a hit. Why was he so weak? Why was his vision spinning?
Ruthven mumbles his annoyance, grabbing both legs and pushing them apart once more with painful force. Noe starts to tremble. He hears the sound of a belt again, and Noe takes his chances. Using his hands, he pushes himself up and off the table, aiming for the door.
It's a mistake, of course it is. Vanitas would laugh, he really would. Like a newborn foal! He’d say, and they’d laugh, because even if he was laughing at Noe, Noe just wanted to hear him laugh. His legs buckle underneath him and he falls to carpeted floor. Small mercies.
Ruthven hums as he grabs one of Noe's ankles, dragging him back towards him. Noe scrabbles frantically over the carpet, doing anything to prevent the inevitable. Grabbing onto the table's leg in a white knuckled grip. His knees feel raw with the carpet burn, but that's the least of his worries. There’s a sound like a click and the foot Ruthven is tugging closer goes limp. The pain is white but all he can think of is red.
"Ruthven, please!” Noe tries again as he's lifted like a rag doll, just to be pressed into the table again. The moon glints in Ruthven’s eye, like a predator when you shine a light at it.
"Why'd you have to go and make everything so hard?" Ruthven complains, positioning himself. There's a sound of a lid uncapping and something cold and wet lands on his butt. Noe flinches as a finger breaches his entrance easily. Another finger. Another one. Noe wants to stop counting.
"We vampires have to take care of each other. I'm surprised nobody taught you this."
Then he's entered and it hurts so much he's about to scream but he goes blissfully blank as teeth sink into his neck again. A particularly hard thrust shoves Noe forward on the desk, making the entire desk shake. Pieces of paper and clutter fall to the floor, until the only sound is Ruthven's grunts, the sound of wood and Noe's ever increasing hitched breaths.
_________
When the lord finishes inside him, Ruthven pulls up his pants. Noe must look particularly pathetic, because he pulls Noe's pants back on. The underwear is beyond saving. He leaves the room without a second glance. Noe waits for longer than he'd like to admit, listening to the mourning doves soft song that always plays just before the moon falls. He feels like something terrible has been done to him, but he isn't quite sure yet what.