Faust looked down at Marguerite as he dressed himself, silently as to make sure not to wake the girl. Once dressed he walked over towards the door, gave her one last look and disappeared into the night.
He loved her. Of that he had been convinced, or at least, that was what he had convinced himself to believe. He really thought he did. Ever since he had made that deal with Mephistopheles and he had shown him Marguerite he had been convinced he had loved her. That she was the one for him. But as time had passed he had started to doubt the sincerity of his love. A small voice had started to mock him, telling him he didn't really love her. That it was nothing but infatuation he felt for her. He had tried to ignore the voice but the harder he tried the more persistent it became. It wasn't her he loved.
He had thought that, if he just ignored the voice and would get her to fall for him all of his doubts would disappear and he would realize that it was indeed her he loved and desired so very, very much.
But it wasn't. Tonight had proven that. At last Marguerite had given in, taking his hand and leading him to her room. It was then that he realized that the voice had been right all along. It wasn't her he loved.
As he exited the house he looked around, searching for a familiar figure in the dark. Upon not seeing him Faust started to make his way down the road, thoughts swirling around in his head. What was he to do now? Should he acknowledge his feelings? Act upon them? Deep down he knew that it was wrong, yet at the same time it felt like the right thing to do. He shook his head and ran a hand through his dark hair.
"Well Doctor. Seems as if you finally got what you wanted." A deep voice purred from the shadows. Faust halted and lifted his head, eyes directed at the Devil who gracefully emerged from the shadows. "Not quite." Faust murmured softly, eyes lustfully taking in the other man's form.
Mephistopheles cocked his head and placed the tip of his cane of the floor with an elegant flourish. "I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat?" The Devil had noticed the lustful look in his companion's eyes but chose to ignore it. Most likely he was just thinking of the night he had just spend with Marguerite. It couldn't possibly be meant for him, could it?
The older male quickly disregarded that thought before others could string themselves along. He was drawn to this young man, he most definitely was. It was why he had chosen to make that deal with him. Yes, he wanted him but stayed realistic. He knew that there was no way in hell, pun not intended, that Faust would love him back. It was why he had shown him Marguerite. He knew that she wouldn't be won over easily, so making it that he could spend quite some time with the young Doctor. Even if it was just as a mean of helping him win the heart of the young maiden.
Lost in thought Mephistopheles hadn't noticed Faust nearing him, causing him to take a step backwards whenever the young doctor took one forwards until he bumped against a wall. "I said, not quite." The devil raised a questioning eyebrow at those words but didn't even have the time to ask about those words or a mischievous smile appeared on Faust's face and their lips connected. At first, Mephistopheles had no idea as how to react, his usually sharp and witty mind completely blank. That was, until he felt Faust move his lips against his own. In less than a blink of an eye Mephistopheles had flipped them over, causing Faust to be the one to be pressed against the wall now. As the younger male registered what happened he smiled in their kiss, their lips had never parted as they changed positions. A soft moan escaped him when he felt the devil run his tongue against his bottom lip. Faust eagerly complied and parted his lips, giving the older male full access.
Mephistopheles grinned wickedly as he pulled away just a little, causing Faust to whine softly as the cool night air brushed against his moist lips. A soft chuckle was all the warning he got as the Devil latched onto his throat, kissing and nipping and sucking, causing the other to moan and cry out softly as fingers clawed at the fabric of Mephistopheles' jacket.
Who had he been kidding, Faust thought hazily, thoughts fogged by pleasure and want and sheer need. This was Mephistopheles they were talking about. There couldn't possibly be a more appropriate man for him to love that the Devil himself.