Krusnik Lust | By : Liryc41731 Category: +S to Z > Trinity Blood Views: 2035 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity blood or Isaak or Cain, and I don't make money from this fanfic. |
She bolted, and crashed against a tree, panting and clutching the bloody side of her neck, and Cain was on her in an instant, pinning her to the tree with his body, and pulling her arms above her head by the wrists. He leaned in, and purred as he licked the liquid life sensuously from the side of her neck, planting his lips there and sucking gently, as if he intended to leave a love-mark there, over her wound. She squealed in fear, babbling excuse after excuse as to why he shouldn't do this to her, what she'd do to him if he continued, and whatnot, but Cain only caught small portions of her ramblings.
"No! Please! Leave me alone!” She struggled, and Cain groaned softly, pressing her tighter to the tree, and opened the wound on her neck a little more, not allowing a single drop of blood to escape him, and tears slipped down her cheeks, “What do you want with me?!”
“Dinner... I haven't eaten in days...” he grinned, his fangs and glimmering red eyes making her whimper, though she'd bared her own fangs in threat.
“What kind of vampire are you?!” He chuckled,
“Oh, I'm not a vampire... Now, scream for me... I like that much more.” He was smiling pleasantly as he gripped her hair, pulling her head back and nipping at her neck beneath her chin. She squealed, just as he wanted her to, and his heart rate jumped considerably, his breath quickening.
“You're not going to violate me, are you?!” she pushed fruitlessly on his shoulders, though he didn't budge, even when the sheer force she could exert would be enough to break bones in a human male. Cain chuckled darkly.
“No, that wouldn't be very satisfying... Not from you. But...” he caressed her body as if that was his plan, and she tensed and backed harder into the tree, as if she could sink through the bark and vanish. “This makes you very uncomfortable, I can tell, so...” He had removed his gloves, but left the golden finger caps, groping at her stomach and breasts, shuddering with pleasure when she whined softly, catching his hand and trying to make him stop. “And fear will load your blood with adrenaline... And to drink from you then...” he grinned widely, and opened her flesh again, “I just hope Isaak is ready for my return...”
“Who...?”
“My consort. He's beautiful... Graceful... Brilliant... But never mind that.” He slipped his hands beneath her shirt, and she screamed displeasure, his fangs popping through her skin again, making a more substantial wound. He sipped from it as she writhed in his arms, shouting protests and cursing, her screams escalating as he tore the shirt from her body. She was a pretty girl, but... Seeing her bare flesh was definitely not as exciting as seeing Isaak's. The prospect of stripping him bare and chasing away his stoic attitude to plant desire in its place made Cain's fangs sink deeper into the girl, a moan escaping him. She gurgled now, blood filling her throat as Cain bit too hard, and he crushed her to him as he drained her, panting as she fell limp, and he dropped her on the ground, licking his lips.
His heart was throbbing excitedly, pounding against his chest, his eyes half lidded and his pants excessively uncomfortable now. He needed to go home, and find his aforementioned consort, to make up for the weeks of his absence. His wings spurted from his back, and he took to the sky, soaring silently as an owl through the evening sky, only to arrive at the castle known as Thurm some time later, and land lightly on the wide flagstones marking the path to the front door. He sprinted to its massive wooden expanse, and pulled it open with ease, sliding inside. He sniffed the air, finding Isaak's floral cologne among all other scents, sensing his presence back in the Great Hall. In no hurry, Cain stalked toward Isaak's location, building the tension on himself, not to mention the heavy erection that was only just masked by the thick fabric of his robe.
A few minutes later, he stepped into the Great Hall, finding Isaak placing the silverware for tomorrow's breakfast with great care. Cain approached quietly, and didn't speak until he was around ten feet away.
“Isaak.” His head snapped back, his long, shimmering black hair rippling with his quick movement, and Cain licked his lips, wanting his hands in that hair, bending Isaak backward over the table to undress him... Once the surprise had vanished from the vampire's face, he looked Cain over, seeing the expression on his face, which was clearly one of desire, and his eyes swept downward, to the bulge that could only be seen if you were really looking for it. He smiled a little, and turned away, going back to his silverware.
“Good evening, my Lord. I trust your hunt was successful?”
“Oh yes. I didn't find the perfect meal, but... The girl proved to be good enough for the moment. How long did that take, Isaak?”
“One month. I have learned the hard way that, after twenty-five years, one month away from you is... Torturous...” Isaak glanced back over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowed, his lips curled into the most coy smile Cain had ever seen on that man's face, and he leaned over the table to reach a silver fork to polish, but he seemed to take forever to stand upright again, leaving Cain's eyes to lazily wander his backside, swathed in black silk slacks, which were belted around his waist. They would be no match for him...
“Is it? I don't suppose my Methuselah was ever one to touch himself, was he?”
“He never needed to. And still does not,” he said softly, his voice silky as ever. Cain breathed a little harder. No, not yet... Not yet... “Tell me, Lord, what was it about her you liked?”
“The girl...? Well... she was pretty, and young, and she wasn't used to a man's touch, so I had her writhing without ever trying. It was so easy... It was almost pathetic. I prefer to take my time, to draw it out... Make you wait...” his tone dropped to a low whisper.
“And this waiting.... It is merely a game?” Isaak's tone had dropped too, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he faced the blond, and he leaned his hip against the table, crossing his arms.
“Oh yes... It always has been. To be able to undress my target slowly... Torment him as I bare his flesh...” He took a few steps and came closer. Isaak hummed, his hands rested flat on the table behind him, and his eyes closed, no doubt imagining Cain's hands on his body, feeling the other's presence before him. He turned away again, and Cain seized him violently, one arm across his chest and the other on his inner thigh, and growled into the crook of his neck, catching a bit of flesh between his teeth. Isaak moaned unabashedly, and arched nicely, stretching his neck and pressing his rear tight to Cain's body. He chuckled softly,
“My Lord, it could be mildly distasteful to do this in the dining room...”
“I'll have you wherever I want,” Cain growled, “no matter what anyone else says. They can go to hell.”
“Ah yes, I had thought you would say something along those lines... But would you please keep my clothing intact this time? This is one of my favorite suits...”
“You're no fun, Isaak,” Cain laughed, “I promise I'll be careful.” He curled Isaak's hair around his fingers.
“You said yourself you prefer to undress me slowly, and I hardly think tearing them from my body counts as taking it slow.” Cain swept the silverware and dishes from the table, the former jangling loudly on the floor, some of the latter shattering on impact, then he turned Isaak around, and thrust him down on top of the table, hands behind his head so as not to hurt him, and climbed over him, sliding Isaak across the polished wood, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, hands running flat across Isaak's pale skin. The Methuselah moaned again, threading his fingers into blond tresses and fisting his hands in them on the back of the Krusnik's head.
“Sometimes my desires get the better of me...” Cain muttered into the crook of Isaak's neck, and Isaak smiled, “Maybe you should wear less clothing, and it wouldn't be a problem...” He stripped Isaak of his belt, and opened his pants, a hand immediately sinking inside.
“Mmmm... Perhaps...” he arched with a gasp when Cain's fingers closed around his hardening desire, “But if I wore less clothing... I may be subject to becoming someone else's eye candy...”
“You'd look fabulous in whatever you wore,” he forced Isaak to bend his knees, and lay himself between them, stripping off his black silk trousers, “And I'd kill them if their gaze lingered for too long... You're mine.”
“Ahhh...” Isaak arched a little when Cain licked the vein in his neck sensuously, “And I would have it no other way... It is a wonderful privilege to have...” Cain stood by the edge of the table, wrapped his arms around his Methuselah, and pulled him upright, holding Isaak against him.
“Unzip me,” he demanded, and Isaak's slender fingers found the solid gold clasps of his robe, unsnapping them, and then reaching between the folds of the red hem to take the tiny silver zipper between thumb and forefinger, tugging it down, stopped only by the pair of belts slung loosely about the Krusnik's slim waist. Cain was kissing him then, tugging his hair a little, and Isaak moaned softly into the kiss, his hands flat as they traveled the length of Cain's torso, opening his robe as they did so. Of course, there was the black shirt underneath, which Isaak pulled up to feel Cain's bare skin, and then fell to the buckles of his belts. Cain moaned as they hit the floor and the zipper slipped down more, starting to bite Isaak's lips and tongue as the Methuselah unfastened his pants and reached inside to take a firm hold on his member. Cain growled, his hands planted flat on either side of Isaak's thighs.
Isaak's free hand caressed every bit of Cain he could reach as he stroked his impossibly hard member. The Krusnik was growling and bucking back against Isaak's hand, abandoning Isaak's damaged lips to test sharp fangs on his pale skin, but wouldn't bite until the moment was right. His half-lidded irises glowed bloody red, and he eventually lifted his head to meet the dark, cool eyes of Isaak, who was smiling lovingly, his hand on Cain's back.
“My Lord...” he whispered, “How do you feel?”
“Fantastic... A way that only you can make me feel...” their lips were only a hair's breadth apart.
“Oh...?”
“And you...? You're nearly as hard as I am.” Cain chuckled, running a few fingers up Isaak's inner thigh.
“Mmm...” Isaak's head fell back, “I feel as wonderful as you, I am certain... But your presence has that effect on me...” Cain unzipped his robe entirely, slipping his pants a little further down his waist, freeing up Isaak's hand, and the erection he grasped. He took Isaak's hands in his own, and pulled them up, letting them go as he leaned over his Methuselah, and his tongue emerged from pink lips, making a hot line from Isaak's collarbones to his chin.
“Give yourself to me...” Cain growled. Isaak found a spot to rest his heels on Cain's hips.
“I do...” he arched a little, and Cain made his move. Isaak gasped, groaned, and arched a little more as Cain's length sank deep inside him. “Hhaaahhh...” Isaak's eyes rolled back as Cain finally seated himself, pressed hard against a spot that made Isaak's head spin as Cain shifted his weight and moved against it. He gripped Cain's back tightly, and the Krusnik picked up a slow, steady rhythm with his hips, hissing a little with pleasure, watching Isaak's face contort. He'd gasp, toss his head from side to side, and Cain knew as he bit his lip that he was trying his hardest to suppress the very sounds Cain wanted to hear.
“Isaak... Just because we're in the Great Hall doesn't mean you have to keep it down.”
“B-but I do not... Not... Want to attract unwanted attention...”
“I'm sure you know how to fix it, Isaak... You're a genius, after all...” Cain purred. Isaak knew he was right, so he extended his mind, forcing his Schatten Cohort out to meld with and stand as sentries at the door. With them in place, no one could come in, nor could they hear what was going on inside, and Isaak was grateful for that because Cain picked up a more forceful thrust. He couldn't stop the groan that rippled from his throat, and he squirmed a little,
“Ahh... Ah... Again, my Lord... Please....”
“That's more like it...” He grinned, and pushed harder, succeeding in getting the most delicious whine from him. He pressed his lips to Isaak's as he rocked the other man against the table, and Isaak's brain grew foggier with each forceful thrust, clutching at Cain's hair desperately. He gasped when Cain broke the kiss, arching, and Cain moaned appreciatively when Isaak intentionally clamped down on his member, drawing him deeper, and then pulled back and grabbed the Methuselah by the shoulders, flipping him to his stomach.
“Ah, wait! The table!” Isaak stiffened, but Cain leaned over him, and stroked his back, his voice seductive as ever,
“The table will be fine... It can be cleaned up. Just relax and enjoy yourself...” he swept Isaak's hair out of the way so he could get to the other's back, kissing between his shoulder blades and up the back of his neck, getting Isaak to melt against the table, thrusting gently into him, ever mindful that Isaak's member was trapped between his own body and an unforgiving wooden table. Isaak showed no signs of displeasure, so Cain grasped his hips, massaging his skin and watching Isaak wrap his arms around his head and groan softly. Cain stood upright, and watched himself slide in and out of his lover, grinning as his entire length disappeared inside Isaak, only to come nearly all the way back out again. He closed his eyes, his mouth open slightly and grinning, his head tilted back.
“Oh, Isaak... You're amazing... Absolutely... Perfect...”
“Mmmnn...” was Isaak's muttered response. He was awfully quiet now... Maybe Cain was being just a little too gentle, or not hitting his prostate well enough... Cain leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Isaak's hips on the table, rocking just slightly harder. Isaak gasped and his entire body tensed like a drawn bowstring, pushing back against Cain.
“Isaak, do you let anyone else have you like I do?”
“N-no! Never!” he gasped, “Ah, Lord!” he groaned deeply, rocking against the table to get some much needed friction on his member, feeling the pressure build, but would not subside, no matter how hard he pushed back against his Krusnik lover. He whined, his hands splayed flat on the shiny, wood surface beneath him, and he slowly crept toward his climax, already beginning to tighten around Cain, but the Krusnik clutched his hips and forced him to be still, smiling when Isaak whined louder,
“Pleeeease, Lord Cain, let me go!”
“Shhh, shhh, Isaak...” he whispered, kissing affectionately along the side of his neck and jaw, “I'm not finished with you yet. It's been so long, I want to make it the best it can be. You come harder when I do this, and I want to see the look on your face when you do. You have a beautiful orgasm face, have I ever told you that?”
“N-no, Lord, you have not...” he blushed slightly, and Cain resumed his forceful, steady thrusts, Isaak's nails clawing at the table as he was teased to madness. Cain purred as he rested his blond head on Isaak's back, nose to his delicious, pale skin, listening to Isaak's panting as it increased to gasped moans.
“A-a-ahhhh, Lord Cain!” But Cain stopped again, making Isaak's fists clench and he grit his teeth, snarling frustration as his member throbbed, but wasn't given release. A single drop of sweat slipped from the tip of his pointed nose and onto the hard table below. Cain cuddled him affectionately then, and flipped him to his back once more, offering a stroke or two of his hardness, still bearing that cheerful smile on his handsome face, watching with clouded blue eyes as he, for the final time that evening, picked up the tempo of their love-making. He pounded him hard, the smile fading as he concentrated on his own finish and the way Isaak gripped his shoulders to keep from touching himself, arching, moaning, his skin glistening with sweat. Cain licked his lips, seeing Isaak's brow knit and raised, his lips open and eyes closed, completing the only helpless look Cain could ever get from him as he was clamped in the iron fists of orgasm. Isaak was excessively vocal, gasping and moaning, nearly screaming, writhing and twitching, tugging at Cain's robe, the Krusnik shuddering and releasing his own soft moan, his fangs dropping, but he didn't need to bite. His eyes rolled back.
When he descended from his rapturous state, he looked down at the Methuselah below him, with gleaming red irises, and smiled. Isaak smiled back, still gasping and trying to find his breath. Cain stepped back, and sat Isaak up on the table, tucking himself back in his pants and zipping up, closing his robe. Isaak chuckled, the sound pleasant to Cain's ear.
“Lord Cain, we make quite the pair, do we not?” Cain only smiled and stroked a tendril of hair away from his face,
“You're a mess. We should go before someone comes in. Collect up your shadows and your clothes, and we'll leave through the back door,” he smirked, and Isaak released the Schatten Cohort from the doorway, grabbing his uniform, and was promptly swept up in Cain's arms as he dashed down the hall and toward his room, where they could enjoy each other's company without being bothered by the rest of the Orden.
((Kind of warm and fuzzy at the end, you know? XD Oh how I love CainxIsaak. I might continue this, but who knows? That depends on what you guys think of it.))
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