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Ruthven looks down at the Archiviste boy on his knees before him. Takes in the sight of his trembling, sweat wracking his skin, crimson irises shaking from a mix of fear and the strain he knew his ability caused on his prey.
Noé swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he continues to tremble. “I…I swear it.”
“Excellent.”
With the snap of his fingers, Ruthven watches as the twisted blackness of his ability morphs into a collar, pinching Noé’s neck. It would make everything less of a hassle if he were to knock the boy unconscious now.
Right as he’s about to do so, however, he pauses. Lets his gaze fall back down to Noé, who was still looking at him with those hopelessly desperate eyes. Exertion paints his features, chest heavily rising and falling, and the droplets of sweat on his tanned skin do well in making his face shine.
He has quite the pretty face. Well sculpted features and eyes of a nice shade of purple, pleasant to look at, although the fiery shade of crimson they exude now holds just as much beauty.
There’s still some of his blood on Ruthven’s lips, the taste lingering on his tongue, and he licks it, a fiery urge welling from the pit of his stomach. It’s been quite a while since he’s last been able to have a proper feast, it’s made him positively famished.
Positively famished. He continues staring at the boy. His blood, while not the best he’s tasted in his years, wasn’t half bad, either. There was a twinge of sweetness to it, and blood always did become all the more delectable when one was hungry.
This had not been his original plan. But, well, now that he was here, why not indulge a little? It seemed a shame to pass up such an opportunity.
The gripping hold of his ability slowly resides until there’s no visible evidence of it on the boy’s skin. Noé goes from being on his knees to falling onto his hands as well, breathing heavily and shivering. In the meantime, Ruthven turns to where he knew his men were keeping watch.
“Leave us. I’ve decided I’ve wanted to inspect this boy further,” He declares.
There’s silence before an unsure voice rings out. “But- please forgive me if I am stepping out of line, my lord, but I thought the plan was to kill him.”
“I changed my mind.” The whimpers and choked sounds the boy had made as his blood were being sucked play throughout his mind, and Ruthven smirks. “He’ll prove far more useful to me alive. Oh, and please draw the curtains shut on your way out, if you will.”
Another brief moment of silence ensues. Then, a sigh. “Whatever you desire, Lord Ruthven. We will depart at once.”
There’s rustling as the room is shrouded in darkness, then the slight ringing of a bell as the door opens. Once it closes it’s just the two of them alone, and Ruthven’s mouth nearly waters as he stares down at the punctures in the boy’s neck, the way the deep crimson of blood slowly oozes out and stinks the room with an overwhelmingly sweet scent.
Noé continues to breathe heavily but manages to turn towards him, a tight look on his face as even that small movement seems to strain his body. There’s something else to his expression, though; Betrayal.
There’s rage there too, but right now, the dominating emotion is betrayal. His voice shakes when he opens his mouth to speak. “What… What did you just do to me? Not to mention why? I thought… I thought that you…”
Ruthven approaches him, crouches down next to him. At that, Noé flinches, looking away, and he roughly grabs his chin and forces him to make eye contact. “You thought? Tell me, what is it that you were thinking?”
The boy shrinks in on himself. “I… I don’t know. But isn’t it normal not to e-expect something like this to happen after you’re invited to tea? You’ve treated me so very kindly thus far so I don’t understand-”
“You really are just a naive child,” Ruthven tightens his grip on his chin, watches as his face scrunches in pain. “Did you really believe everything would be sunshine and rainbows after all that you and your friend pulled?”
“So that’s what this is about? But I…” Noé grimaces when a nail digs into his cheek, eyes flashing an even more brilliant shade of red. “Please s-stop, that hurts!”
“…It hurts.”
“Yes, that’s what I said! And please just tell me what you did to me! Forcing me to swear something to you… I don’t want-”
How troublesome. Perhaps he really should have knocked this noisy child unconscious.
No matter, though. Even if convenient, it would be far too boring to have a lifeless body under him. The whimpers and cries one could rouse, they’re what made the feast all that much more fulfilling.
With that in mind, Ruthven sighs. Grabs the front of the boy’s shirt and rips it open, the buttons popping off and rolling about the floor.
His newly exposed collarbone gleams as if inviting him in to devour it, and the boy’s eyes widen when he realizes what he’s about to do, fear sparking in them. “No-”
Ruthven yanks him up until he’s standing on trembling legs, gripping him and pulling him close to himself. There’s resistance as Noé panics, desperately pushing against his chest, but he’s been weakened. Even if that were not the case, however, there was no denying their difference in power. He was yet but a child, why was he trying so desperately to escape? Surely he must know the effort was futile and nothing more than a waste of energy.
Gripping him even more tightly, Ruthven leans over, lapping up the blood that trickles down from where he had earlier been feeding, and the boy looks as if he might burst into tears. “Stop it- please don’t drink any more, it’s against the law to-”
He’s cut off with a strangled gasp when Ruthven sinks his fangs into his soft flesh. He does it roughly to silence him and there’s no doubt the action is painful, the boy whimpering. His body mostly goes pliant though, eyes squeezing shut.
The pleasant warmness of blood fills his mouth, sweet and italic and warm. It’s so very warm, and Ruthven groans as he buries his fangs in deeper, sucking.
It becomes difficult to think as the animalistic act of feasting takes over his mind. All he can focus on is the blood in his mouth, and it tastes good. Oh, how very delectable it was, it’s all too easy to get lost in the feeling.
It would be a shame if that were all he did when he had such a pretty boy in front of him, however. So while it takes quite a bit of willpower, he forces himself to pull away from the warm flesh under him, sighing.
Noé immediately tries to move away, eyes shining with unshed tears. Only the lightest of blushes dusts over his cheeks. A shame. It seems they weren’t the best fit chemically. If they were he’d have enjoyed seeing how he’d react to the pleasure forced upon him from the feeding. Would he feel shame, embarrassment? What face would he make?
Well… even if he couldn’t see what interesting faces he might make under the pretense of a feeding- well, of only a feeding, there were still other ways in which he could get what he wanted.
The boy mumbles something under his breath, continuing to push against Ruthven’s chest as if that were going to do anything. His voice is too low to hear, however, and Ruthven leans in so his ear can brush against the boy’s lips.
“Pray tell, what have you been mumbling so desperately?”
Noé looks up at him. The expression on his face sparks something from within Ruthven’s chest, because there’s something there, something akin to rage, to rebellion. Rather than crackle and spread like a wildfire though, it’s been dampened by fear.
It’s clear he wants to look strong, wants to look like he has some power and isn’t completely at Ruthven’s mercy, but the fear seeping from every pore of his being diminishes his efforts. “…It’s illegal. T-to drink one’s blood without their consent… it’s illegal. If you don’t stop, I’m afraid I will have to r-report you…”
The words leave his mouth as if they’re the only thing he can cling to, the only thing he was clinging to, in this moment. It was really too bad it was impossible to cling to something like words; They hadn’t a physical form to grip, it was the same as trying to hold onto a cloud.
Ruthven can’t help but laugh a little, just from how absurd it is. “Do you truly think threatening me with the law will help you? Don’t humor yourself. You’re hardly in any a position to be threatening me in the first place.”
“That may be true, but I…” Noé shivers when Ruthven leans over and licks the puncture wounds in his neck. His breathing picks up and his knees nearly buckle, but his voice is only slightly more shaken. “I cannot just let you do as you please.”
“Is that so?”
“Y-yes, so-”
In one swift movement, Ruthven tightens his grip on the boy and pivots his heel, throwing him onto the blood-colored banquette behind them and gripping his wrists with a hand, pinning them above his head, earning a pained yelp.
He lowers his voice, growling as he stares into the crimson eyes under him, the eyes round with fear. “I will do as I please and you will take all that I give you, do you understand? There is no discussion to be had here.”
Noé shakes as he stares up at him. He doesn’t say anything but the gravity of the situation finally seems to dawn on him because he forgoes the nonsense he had previously been spewing to instead nod an impossibly small nod, swallowing.
With that, Ruthven yanks his suit-vest off of him and pulls the rest of his shirt open to reveal the toned expanse of his chest. All the while, Noé turns his head to the side, tightly squeezing his eyes shut.
That is, they stay shut until his pants begin to be pulled off. His eyes snap back open at the action and he looks as if he might faint. Confused and fearful. His arms jump from where they’re pinned as if trying to move to stop him as his breath catches in his throat. “W-what are you doing? Please leave my pants, it isn’t necessary to remove them if you’re simply drinking my blood, why are you-”
Ruthven yanks his pants down his ankles and tosses them over his shoulder to reveal his bare legs. “I said I would do with you as I please. Stop putting up such a ruckus.”
Something dawns in the boy’s eyes, and they widen even further, this time with a different kind of fear. Absolute terror.
Though he had been somewhat attempting to flee earlier, it’s as if something takes over his body now. He cries out, thrashing and kicking despite how much energy Ruthven’s ability had sapped from him earlier. It would be impressive if not for it being even more of a nuisance, and Ruthven grips him by a fistful of his snow-colored hair, slapping him across the cheek.
The sound rings out throughout the room and Noé freezes in shock as Ruthven fists his hair tighter, yanking his head up. “…I believe I told you to stop putting up such a ruckus.”
Noé stares at him, still in shock. But then the tears that had readily been preparing themselves in his eyes slide down his cheeks as he shakes his head. “No, please don’t…anything but that, I…”
“Your pleas fall upon deaf ears.”
“Just- drink my blood instead. You were satisfied with that e-earlier, right? Just do that, I-”
“After all that begging for me to stop drinking, you wish for me to do it again? Quite the indecisive one, aren’t you?”
Ruthven yanks down his underwear and tosses it the same place he’d tossed his pants. Immediately, the boy’s cheeks warm with shame as he attempts to close his legs, beginning to cry harder. “No… no, please-”
“Are you a virgin?” Ruthven grabs hold of one of his ankles and puts it over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to examine him.
His hole, dark and puckered, greets him, and Noé doesn’t respond. Just trembles even further, chest heaving, his panicked breathing coming hard and fast.
“I will take that as a yes. Hm. That will make things more interesting,” He quietly says, then turning his gaze to his cock. It’s half hard, likely a psychological reaction from when he’d been drinking his blood earlier, and he smirks. “It seems you were enjoying our little bout more than you let on.”
The boy’s wet eyes flicker to him, then to his cock. All he can do is shake his head, sniffing. “No… I didn’t…”
“Oh? But is there not proof right here?” He runs a finger from the tip to the base, watching as it twitches.
“Shut up! Just shut up. Please…”
“Shut up? Perhaps you should remember the position you’re in.” Ruthven leans over and gently kisses his cock, glancing up at the boy’s face to see fearful denial spread over it as his muscles lock into place, his body going completely still. He seems to stop breathing when Ruthven takes his cock into his mouth and ever so slightly bites the tender flesh, making sure to graze it with his fangs.
It isn’t hard enough to cause any real pain but it does do well in getting his point across. From then on as Ruthven continues to lick and lap at his cock Noé doesn’t so much as breathe, tears continuing to silently roll down his cheeks as his fists clench and unclench.
His face is undeniably red now as he harshly bites his lip, likely from the newfound pleasure, and it’s ever so satisfying to watch. He hadn’t much time to spend playing with this boy, not nearly as much as he’d have liked, so he really shouldn’t be wasting it and should hurry and get his fill, but this satisfaction is hard to end.
He moves from licking his cock to completely encompassing it within his mouth, bobbing his head. At that, the boy’s hips twitch and a strangled muffled sound is drawn from his lips, but he doesn’t react any more than that.
A shame. He continues the bobbing movement for a little while longer before pulling away with an obscene pop, gazing up at the boy’s face.
Noé doesn’t look at him, eyes puffy and eyebrows knit tightly together, a thin line of blood trailing down his lip from where he must have been biting it.
Ruthven leans over and licks up the blood even as the boy flinches away, frowning when he glances back down at his cock. Though it had been hard before it was already softening again. “You’re so tense. Why not just let loose and enjoy yourself?”
At that, the boy makes a noise akin to a laugh tainted with despair and lacking in any humor, taking a hysterical edge. “Enjoy myself? I’m sorry, but what part of this am I meant to be enjoying? I already told you to stop, but you-” His voice shakes, lips trembling. “Y-you…”
“Oh, you poor thing. You’re right, I suppose I am dragging this out, aren’t I?” Ruthven trails a nail over his lips as he says it, and a glimmer of hope spreads throughout those crimson eyes damp with tears.
“Y-yes, this has gone on for long enough, right? Surely you must be satisfied, so if you could please just let me go already-”
He truly has been dragging this out but if the boy was this desperate he’d get to the fun part soon, he thinks, leaning back down and licking a trail down the gleaming skin under him, the tensed abdomen shining with sweat, until he returns to his cock.
Noé makes a desperate, dismayed noise, his cries rising into the realm of fearful denial when Ruthven positions a finger at his puckered entrance.
It flutters underneath him as if welcoming him in and the boy’s mouth drops open, thighs quivering as another sob-like sound rises from his throat. “Please don’t, not there-”
Ruthven just barely pushes his finger in, met with resistance, the tight ring of muscle not wanting to let him in. “You have two options, boy. Either I stretch you now and this will take longer,” He forces his finger in deeper, earning a whimper, “or I will enter you without any preparation and rip you apart. Either choice is fine with me, but I suggest you think wisely.”
Noé squeezes his eyes shut, nearly hyperventilating as he makes a face mixed with pain and confusion- this sensation must be new to him, after all- tears falling down his cheeks even more thickly than before.
There’s a long moment of silence that isn’t truly silent with how loud the sounds of his wet, shaky breathing are. But then he mumbles something under his breath.
Ruthven pushes his finger deeper, earning a cry. It was likely because his nails were quite sharp, though he revels in the sounds of pain. “What is it? Speak louder, Archiviste boy.”
Though it seems as if he has to force himself to utter the words, he eventually gets them out, sniffling. “Your- your fingers. P-Please use your fingers first…”
He grows quieter as the sentences go on to the extent that his last few words are nearly inaudible, but his point gets across just fine. Ruthven smirks, tenderly moving his hair to kiss his forehead, reveling in the way those tear-filled eyes fearfully gaze at him before flicking away.
“Smart choice. Despite your naivety I see you’re still capable of making intelligent decisions when necessary.” Though it’s a little disappointing that he wouldn’t get to hear the pained screams that would likely ensue from forcing himself inside with no preparation, he had not been lying when he said he’d be fine with either choice.
What’s all the more, he would still likely be able to hear those delectable sounds, anyway. They were running out of time, he’d have to quickly prepare the boy and wouldn’t exactly be able to prepare him enough to ensure a painless entrance.
With that, Ruthven pushes the rest of his finger into the warm flesh that grips tightly around it, pulsing and squeezing. He then drags it out before pushing it back in again as Noé gags through his cries, trying and failing to stifle the choked whimper-like sounds that fall from his lips with each pump.
Those sounds grow louder when a second finger is inserted, and even louder still as he spreads them as wide as he can, stretching the warmth around them to their limits.
After a while though, Ruthven cannot help but become impatient. His own cock strains against the confines of his pants, mouth watering from the urge to feast again.
Roughly, he yanks his fingers from the boy’s now slightly-puffy hole. Looks down at him, takes the time to admire his beauty.
His pale hair is splayed out from underneath him, cheeks dusted in pink and bare chest shakily rising and falling. His eyes are wet with tears, snot falling from his nose as he sniffs. He looks positively wrecked. Gorgeous.
Ruthven takes his coat off and sets it to the side before undoing the buckle of his belt, sliding down his pants, and Noé weakly looks up at him. Any fight that may have been in him is long gone by now, fear and helplessness and pain the only thing left in his eyes.
Though they’d previously been crimson, they’ve returned back to their saturated shade of purple as he mumbles one last pitiful attempt of a plea, one last hope for salvation. “Please don’t…”
It comes out as but a whisper, and Ruthven holds his chin and lifts his head, gazes at that defeated expression. “I’m afraid I have no plans of stopping.”
The boy slumps at his words. Only does his breathing quicken when Ruthven raises one of his legs even higher, positioning his cock at his entrance.
He was large. Even by the standards of vampires he was larger than average, and to this virgin boy, there was no doubt that it would hurt.
The thought excites him, and he keeps his gaze on the boy’s face as he begins to push into the overwhelmingly tight heat.
Noé lets out a pained whimper. Thrashes in his grip, shakes his head, starts to fully sob now. Ruthven holds him all the more tightly. “Hold still. Thrashing about will only make it hurt more.”
He’s so tight it’s hard to push in any further as he clenches down on reflex. Though it’s likely his body trying to push him out, all it does is keep him buried in the warmth.
It feels good. So positively good, exactly as he had envisioned- no, even more so, in fact, and Ruthven lets out a low groan as the boy whimpers and cries under him, letting out a louder sob when he pushes in deeper.
“I-it’s painful… it’s so very painful, please take it out, I beg you, please-”
He continues gasping out silent pleas for a while longer, the pleas melding into something sounding suspiciously close to that Blue Moon brat’s name, but as soon as Ruthven begins thrusting no further words fall from his lips. Instead, he continues to sob, loudly and unabashedly, full of all the pain and fear and betrayal he must surely be feeling.
The sounds of his pained cries as well as Ruthven’s own low groans fill the room. So, too, does the slapping of flesh against flesh, sounding wetter than it should. A smell both metallic and sweet fills the air and he realizes the boy must have torn.
The smell overrides his senses and his mouth waters as he looks down at the bare neck of the boy beneath him, the punctures. He can hardly think, doesn’t even know what’s come over him before he finds his fangs buried deeply into the boy’s strong neck, tastes blood in his mouth.
Though the boy had already felt exquisite, his insides warm and soft, feasting off him only makes the experience all the more enjoyable. Pleasure curls to his toes and builds from within his abdomen.
He isn’t needlessly cruel with his thrusts, nor is he gentle. He takes the boy hard, driving in and out of his plump ass, continuing to suck the blood from his neck with pleased sighs as an orgasm swiftly builds.
In a surge of pleasure Ruthven harshly bites into the tender flesh under him as he comes, thrusting as deeply as he can inside the boy, hips spasming as he groans.
As the time had gone on Noé’s loud sobbing had died down into choked whimpers, and then into pained gasps, before he’d gone completely silent. Compared to how loud he’s been thus far it’s a little odd, and Ruthven pulls away from his neck to look at his face.
It isn’t difficult to find the reason behind his silence. His head is lolled back, mouth slightly parted, his eyes closed in a calm expression greatly contrasting the one of pain and terror that had previously been displayed upon his face. He must have passed out from how overwhelming it all was, though the sheer amount of blood drunken from him likely played no small part as well.
Ruthven takes a moment to catch his breath. But then he smiles, gently tucking a strand of pale hair behind the boy’s ear as he pulls out, wiping away a stray tear on his cheek.
Seed and blood alike drip from his puffy and torn hole, his remaining clothing ripped and bloodied, face a mess of snot and tears, and Ruthven grabs a curtain from a window after putting himself back together. Wraps it around the boy, takes him into his arms. “You’ve brought me great pleasure with this encounter. I hope we will be able to meet again soon.”
Only words of silence fall from slack lips as a response, but Ruthven doesn’t mind. Instead, he takes one last look at the beautiful boy in his arms before he pushes the front door to the restaurant open, stepping out.
***
Vanitas’s legs burn as he runs, dashing as fast as he can to their hotel room. He’s been such a fool. All day he’d been fooling around with a woman when his partner could be in danger, absolutely no good came from that bastard Ruthven, if he’d done something to Noé-
What if he had? Killed him, disposed of him? It would entirely be Vanitas’s fault if that were to have happened. Oh…
He sprints up the stairs, taking two at a time and nearly tripping over himself, lungs struggling to take in enough air. There isn’t any time to catch his breath, he had to make sure he was safe, had to make sure nothing had happened to him-
“Noé!”
Vanitas throws open the door to their room expecting the worst, fear pounding throughout his veins as worst-case scenarios for what could have happened fog his mind.
The sight that greets him makes him feel as if he’s going to be sick, and his heart drops.
It’s at least a relief when he sees that Noé is alive and not just a lifeless body, but…
It would be a lie to say the look on Noé’s face now isn’t lifeless anyway. His clothing is tattered and torn apart from where he sits underneath the window, puncture wounds and bruises littering his neck. There’s also a puddle of blood and a clear liquid from directly underneath where he’s sitting.
Upon hearing the door open his head whips up, a look of unfiltered fear painting his expression as his eyes flash a deep crimson. The expression melts into a sort of desperate relief when he sees who it is.
Vanitas stays standing there in absolute shock. It isn’t difficult to figure out what happened, there was only one thing that would explain- that would explain this, but- had it been Ruthven? No… he wouldn’t do something like that- would he? But-
“V-Vanitas…” It comes out as a pitiful croak and Noé sounds as if he’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears, making an attempt to stand up.
His legs uncontrollably shake from under him, and Vanitas’s rage and shock burns into worry as he rushes over. “Don’t stand up you idiot, you’ll fall-”
As soon as he reaches out to give him support, though, Noé flinches. Hard.
Immediately, Vanitas freezes. Right, he wouldn’t want to be touched right now, that much was obvious, why in the devil had he tried to touch him? “Shit, I’m sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
Rather than pull away, Noé’s lips tremble. He falls forward into Vanitas, wrapping his arms around him and tightly gripping him as if he were the only thing keeping him from falling. Maybe he was.
He begins to shake, and, not knowing what else to do, Vanitas silently wraps his arms around him in return. Holds him as the sound of his sobs begin to ring throughout the air.