[ His teeth sting. A thin, needy noise wells up and out of her throat before she can stop it - it's not even been two weeks since the last time he touched her, properly touched her, and that still feels like so unbearably long. Even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to pretend she didn't want more of it.
But that's precisely why she can't have it. She isn't allowed to have any of the things she wants, especially not something as dirty as this. But even as her lips part to spill out more lies, she can't bring herself to tell him to stop.
Her hands settle almost a little uncertainly on his arms, fingers curling into his shirt. ]
I wasn't... I mean, I didn't want him to...
[ Crack. Just a hairline fracture in that perfect polished shine. But even if it's just a crack, that still means it can break. ]
[ those human fingers - long, slender, pale - wrap in her perfect hair, grab tight without care for her comfort. she isn't trying to look away from him. maybe the thought wouldn't even occur to her. but even so, he needs to make it clear: look at me. listen to me. speak with me. ]
Have you not put two and two together? You're not an idol. [ a lie. the necessary truth. both and neither. maybe he's the one not saying anything, now. ] You're a killer, a liar, and a strumpet, and you'll never be anything but that. [ he leans in - kisses at her cheek with a surprising tenderness, even as the fingers in her hair jerk her up and to attention. ] You've known it the whole time, haven't you? Even those first few nights. You knew full well I was out there getting my hands dirty in your name. That priest, the detective...
[ he speaks callously, quickly, without thinking. there is no calculation as he hisses- ]
Even that worthless mother of yours, just to tie up loose ends.
None of it's a lie. None of it should hurt, but it still makes her flinch to hear it, even though she's always known all of it was true. But it's because none of it is a lie that it makes her freeze like it does.
Of course she's always known that fighting for her wish would mean getting someone's hands dirty. It was pure naive ignorance that let her pretend she could avoid staining her own. But-
Her mother-
That hadn't been for her wish. It hadn't been for the Grail. Had it? ]
My...
[ The look of blank, open shock on her face is nothing like Ai of B-Komachi would ever wear. ]
You really... [ She swallows. Hard. ] I don't... why did you...?
Oh? That one's what gets your interest? [ a snort, undignified and low. ] Hmm. Maybe... I just felt like it? Someone capable of making someone like you doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as me.
[ and yet, hoshino ai continues to draw breath.
he remembers putting two and two together. not like it had been difficult. she's good at lying, for a human - possibly the best. better than the faeries themselves. but when the words are stripped away and only the truth is seen, it's not hard to see what had happened.
someone who could hurt his titania doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as a worm like him. ]
Would it make you happier if I had some magical reason? If it was the only way to make your dreams come true, or whatever nonsense you're thinking?
She had clung desperately to the belief that she must long after the truth was obvious. She had endured violence, abuse, the starvation of everything a mother should give her daughter all while telling herself that Ayumi must have loved her because all parents loved their children. It had taken that final abandonment, dumping Ai like unwanted luggage, for her to accept there had never been any love there from either of them.
And yet, like any child would - Ai had never wanted to hate her. She had made excuse after excuse, a neverending list of justifications, half convincing herself that the whole thing had been her fault from the start. She was a strange child, a difficult child. If Ayumi had hated her, was it that much of a shock?
And yet-
The anger had been there. She had choked it down like vomit any time it had threatened to rise in her throat, endured it endured it endured it long after the sight of her mother's face had faded from her mind.
She hadn't wanted to hate her. But some wretched, dirty part of her had still wanted someone to do it for her.
She'd wanted someone to get their hands dirty on her behalf.
She realises much too late that she's trembling. ]
Don't-
[ She can't trust herself to hold her expression steady. She has to cover her face with her hands but even then, her voice trembles too. ]
You're such a liar. You tell me you hate me then you do things like this. But you can't. If you're kind to me, then I can't-
[ Finally, her voice breaks. ]
How am I supposed to pretend I don't needyou when you do things like this...?!
[ there's a strange series of emotions that passes through oberon's gaze. mockery (concern). something between hate (adoration) and sick fondness (obsession), when her shoulders start to shake. and then-
nothing.
(everything.) ]
That's... Well. At least you admit you liked the murders. Weirdo.
[ the insults barely even come out, half-formed and unsteady. what is he supposed to say? it's something he's heard a hundred times from people who never in a million years would mean it. it's something he's never seen before, not in the rise and fall of a nation.
the hand in her hair loosens, lets go entirely - awkwardly falls to her back. what is he supposed to do here? he'd expected her to fight. he'd expected her to get herself under control. the idea that she might- he can't even think it. can't think about it for even a second, in case it becomes a lie too.
the hand at her back digs in, soft human fingers trying to claw inside of her. ]
Don't think I'll go easy on you. No one cares about your crocodile tears.
[ It's the closest she's ever come to a reprimand, to any kind of anger since the day they'd first looked at each other. The day she'd said tell me who you really are and the answer had turned out to be - a person who sees her. A person who knows what she is, rotten, selfish and unacceptably dirty and wants her anyway.
He'd come here to grant her wish. That had been the thing she'd been praying for in her heart when she'd summoned him. That somebody, anybody would. But her wish had been- the person she's always, always wanted to have with her is-
At last, she lifts her hands from her face. Ai of B-Komachi's perfect mirror shine has completely shattered to pieces beyond repair. She's crying again, not the ugly heaving sobs that had shuddered through her that night but - something more pained and yet, more tender, too.
Like that, with them looking right in each other's eyes, that horrible truth is so clear to see she might as well be screaming it. ]
I'msorry. Don't go. If it's mana you need, take as much as you want, but don't-
[ She's clinging onto him, fingers digging into his arm, his back and she has her face pressed into his shoulder. Like any absence of contact between them is abhorrent. ]
it's unavoidable, like this. there's nowhere he can look - not when every action, every lie, every movement of every muscle screams it at him.
she loves him.
she saw him, once. not all of him, but- enough. more than anyone. more than he'd thought possible. she knows what lies beneath, she has to. and yet - she's clinging to him, begging him to not leave.
she loves him.
his fingers dig deeper; his claws reach up, fumble at her back, pull her suffocatingly tight against him. he can't leave her. he'll never leave her. if he left her, he'd die. he has to keep her with him, has to win, has to- ]
Shut up. I'm not here for your bitching and moaning.
[ he can't look at her right now. she's too bright, too radiant - she'll burn away every vile part of him. so instead, he leans in, biting roughly at her neck before licking at it.
and yet, he still doesn't move to touch her any further. not until he knows that this is what she wants. ]
[ Not even a note of protest. Even without seeing the truth under her words, the tone of her voice couldn't be more transparent of a plea for more.
She'd said that the first time as well, hadn't she? She remembers. The pinch of his teeth at her throat, the shameful noises that'd come spilling out of her mouth with each bite. She remembers showering the next day - night - however long it'd taken them to exhaust each other, counting the bruises and bitemarks, huffing to herself that he was so inconsiderate... and feeling her heart stumble over each one even so. This proof, printed onto her skin, of how badly somebody had wanted her.
They called it mana transfer long past the point that either of them had even pretended to believe that's what they were still doing. Maybe once or twice, he's mockingly disarmed her by reminding her that it's just sex. Neither of them have ever been quite so foolish as to admit it's lovemaking.
But Ai knows the difference.
She's greedy. Dirty. Hateful and selfish. The worst kind of lying, faking human. Some days, she barely even feels like she deserves to be called a human full stop.
Maybe that's why she's never gotten any of it right. Maybe all this time, everything else has just been for practice.
Maybe all this time, she was waiting for him to find her. ]
Oberon.Vortigern. [ Whichever one. Either. Both. All of him. Just so long as it's him. ] Doitproperly.Touchme.Pleaseloveme.
[ i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you-
there's nothing he can say. no words, no ideas, no thoughts that will ever give her what she wants. (what he wants to give her.) what else can he do? so he steels his heart, and he closes his eyes, and he ignores every last one of those beautiful words tumbling through his ears and eyes and memories.
he's not sure when her shirt came off. a vague memory of tearing at it, ripping it away while she was on his lap; his own clothes have mostly been shed as well, her head resting against his shallow and sunken chest as he carries her to her room. how many marks has he left, by now? enough that she has no hope of covering them. enough that anyone could look at her and know.
maybe it's just a lie, the way he lays her on her own bed - shockingly gentle, with hands that tremble against her skin. or maybe it's a lie, the way he moves to pin her immediately, the way he bites and licks and invades her mouth like the swarm of miserable curses he is. maybe it's a lie, how his fingers drop down, make a show of preparing her even though they've been doing this for weeks now.
if he doesn't let himself think about it, maybe he doesn't have to know the truth. maybe one of them might be real, that way. ]
[ She won't be able to go back to work like this. She'll be lucky if she can so much as leave the house for another week until they fade. There's no way Ai of B-Komachi could be seen in a state like this without everyone knowing exactly what she really is. Part of her thinks that's just fine. Part of her wants to jealously guard every bruise, scratch and bite - because so long as no one else sees them, then just for once, something can finally be hers and hers alone.
Well. That's not quite right. Nothing about this is just hers anymore.
He's indelicate. He's never gentle or kind to her. He's never once been cruel. She's spent so much of her life trembling in fear of pain and she knows he could hurt her more deeply and more easily than anybody else. But it's been so long since Ai's been afraid of him that she's forgotten how it felt. ]
Mmn- kiss me again like that. Anywhere, all over- [ The only time she gives him commands like a proper Master and it's for something like this. She really is an intolerably filthy woman. ] I don't care how many bruises you leave. I just want to feel you. Please.
Don't make such filthy demands. [ beg him. command him. force him. ] Do you still think you're the one in control?
[ it's forced out, nearly panted, keeping himself just barely off her body with a single arm. two fingers slip in- three- he bites at her, sucks hard, drags beautiful stains of blue and purple and red on her neck and shoulders and breasts before he finally pulls his hand away.
except-
he doesn't stop. he keeps going, this time, leaving mark after mark after mark. her stomach. her hips. her thighs. each time, he feels more aggressive, more possessive, more hungry than ever before. an endless worm, only fit to eat and eat and eat. a reader kept in suspense for centuries, voraciously devouring every scrap put before him for his ending. each little cry, each little sound she makes is the proof he needs: he's hurt her, he's defiled her, he's made sure she can never, ever, ever escape his cruelty again.
he only moves to lap at her cunt when he's thoroughly satisfied. those dainty legs, covered from top to bottom in marks and hickeys and bruises and scratches. those beautiful eyes, filled with tears like stars reflecting on the water.
there's nothing precise about his technique now. gone are the days of him quickly, efficiently getting her where she needs to be. after all, this is for him, now, not her. ]
I can't help it... not when it's been this long, I missed you so much...
[ The words spill out of her, plaintive and needy and true. She feels so terribly lonely, so starved of touch and warmth even as she knows she has nobody to blame but herself. And even if she doesn't deserve it, even though needing it this badly makes her so unforgivably dirty - she doesn't care. All that matters right now is the sharp, bright sting of each mark blooming across her skin, the hot press of his mouth, the satisfaction of being marked all over, a proof of ownership that goes even deeper than a Command Seal.
Her voice rises sweetly with each new bite, each new bruise, each new scratch, sounding more and more blissfully helpless with each passing second. ]
Don't... don't tease me like that, don't make me wait, Oberon... ah, you're so mean, you're so...!
[ Or so she says, anyway. But it's transparently clear just how much she wants it. Everything from the tone of her pleading voice to the way her legs twitch and shake with each new mark - to how slick and needy she is and how eagerly her hips arch up into his mouth - betrays her and the noise that leaves her mouth, somewhere between a moan and a choked sob, is nothing short of obscene. ]
Mm...! Ah, like that, just like that, please, Oberon...
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no subject
But that's precisely why she can't have it. She isn't allowed to have any of the things she wants, especially not something as dirty as this. But even as her lips part to spill out more lies, she can't bring herself to tell him to stop.
Her hands settle almost a little uncertainly on his arms, fingers curling into his shirt. ]
I wasn't... I mean, I didn't want him to...
[ Crack. Just a hairline fracture in that perfect polished shine. But even if it's just a crack, that still means it can break. ]
no subject
[ those human fingers - long, slender, pale - wrap in her perfect hair, grab tight without care for her comfort. she isn't trying to look away from him. maybe the thought wouldn't even occur to her. but even so, he needs to make it clear: look at me. listen to me. speak with me. ]
Have you not put two and two together? You're not an idol. [ a lie. the necessary truth. both and neither. maybe he's the one not saying anything, now. ] You're a killer, a liar, and a strumpet, and you'll never be anything but that. [ he leans in - kisses at her cheek with a surprising tenderness, even as the fingers in her hair jerk her up and to attention. ] You've known it the whole time, haven't you? Even those first few nights. You knew full well I was out there getting my hands dirty in your name. That priest, the detective...
[ he speaks callously, quickly, without thinking. there is no calculation as he hisses- ]
Even that worthless mother of yours, just to tie up loose ends.
no subject
None of it's a lie. None of it should hurt, but it still makes her flinch to hear it, even though she's always known all of it was true. But it's because none of it is a lie that it makes her freeze like it does.
Of course she's always known that fighting for her wish would mean getting someone's hands dirty. It was pure naive ignorance that let her pretend she could avoid staining her own. But-
Her mother-
That hadn't been for her wish. It hadn't been for the Grail. Had it? ]
My...
[ The look of blank, open shock on her face is nothing like Ai of B-Komachi would ever wear. ]
You really... [ She swallows. Hard. ] I don't... why did you...?
no subject
[ and yet, hoshino ai continues to draw breath.
he remembers putting two and two together. not like it had been difficult. she's good at lying, for a human - possibly the best. better than the faeries themselves. but when the words are stripped away and only the truth is seen, it's not hard to see what had happened.
someone who could hurt his titania doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as a worm like him. ]
Would it make you happier if I had some magical reason? If it was the only way to make your dreams come true, or whatever nonsense you're thinking?
no subject
She had clung desperately to the belief that she must long after the truth was obvious. She had endured violence, abuse, the starvation of everything a mother should give her daughter all while telling herself that Ayumi must have loved her because all parents loved their children. It had taken that final abandonment, dumping Ai like unwanted luggage, for her to accept there had never been any love there from either of them.
And yet, like any child would - Ai had never wanted to hate her. She had made excuse after excuse, a neverending list of justifications, half convincing herself that the whole thing had been her fault from the start. She was a strange child, a difficult child. If Ayumi had hated her, was it that much of a shock?
And yet-
The anger had been there. She had choked it down like vomit any time it had threatened to rise in her throat, endured it endured it endured it long after the sight of her mother's face had faded from her mind.
She hadn't wanted to hate her. But some wretched, dirty part of her had still wanted someone to do it for her.
She'd wanted someone to get their hands dirty on her behalf.
She realises much too late that she's trembling. ]
Don't-
[ She can't trust herself to hold her expression steady. She has to cover her face with her hands but even then, her voice trembles too. ]
You're such a liar. You tell me you hate me then you do things like this. But you can't. If you're kind to me, then I can't-
[ Finally, her voice breaks. ]
How am I supposed to pretend I don't need you when you do things like this...?!
no subject
nothing.
(everything.) ]
That's... Well. At least you admit you liked the murders. Weirdo.
[ the insults barely even come out, half-formed and unsteady. what is he supposed to say? it's something he's heard a hundred times from people who never in a million years would mean it. it's something he's never seen before, not in the rise and fall of a nation.
the hand in her hair loosens, lets go entirely - awkwardly falls to her back. what is he supposed to do here? he'd expected her to fight. he'd expected her to get herself under control. the idea that she might- he can't even think it. can't think about it for even a second, in case it becomes a lie too.
the hand at her back digs in, soft human fingers trying to claw inside of her. ]
Don't think I'll go easy on you. No one cares about your crocodile tears.
no subject
[ It's the closest she's ever come to a reprimand, to any kind of anger since the day they'd first looked at each other. The day she'd said tell me who you really are and the answer had turned out to be - a person who sees her. A person who knows what she is, rotten, selfish and unacceptably dirty and wants her anyway.
He'd come here to grant her wish. That had been the thing she'd been praying for in her heart when she'd summoned him. That somebody, anybody would. But her wish had been- the person she's always, always wanted to have with her is-
At last, she lifts her hands from her face. Ai of B-Komachi's perfect mirror shine has completely shattered to pieces beyond repair. She's crying again, not the ugly heaving sobs that had shuddered through her that night but - something more pained and yet, more tender, too.
Like that, with them looking right in each other's eyes, that horrible truth is so clear to see she might as well be screaming it. ]
I'm sorry. Don't go. If it's mana you need, take as much as you want, but don't-
[ She's clinging onto him, fingers digging into his arm, his back and she has her face pressed into his shoulder. Like any absence of contact between them is abhorrent. ]
Don't leave me. You're the only one who sees me.
no subject
it's unavoidable, like this. there's nowhere he can look - not when every action, every lie, every movement of every muscle screams it at him.
she loves him.
she saw him, once. not all of him, but- enough. more than anyone. more than he'd thought possible. she knows what lies beneath, she has to. and yet - she's clinging to him, begging him to not leave.
she loves him.
his fingers dig deeper; his claws reach up, fumble at her back, pull her suffocatingly tight against him. he can't leave her. he'll never leave her. if he left her, he'd die. he has to keep her with him, has to win, has to- ]
Shut up. I'm not here for your bitching and moaning.
[ he can't look at her right now. she's too bright, too radiant - she'll burn away every vile part of him. so instead, he leans in, biting roughly at her neck before licking at it.
and yet, he still doesn't move to touch her any further. not until he knows that this is what she wants. ]
no subject
[ Not even a note of protest. Even without seeing the truth under her words, the tone of her voice couldn't be more transparent of a plea for more.
She'd said that the first time as well, hadn't she? She remembers. The pinch of his teeth at her throat, the shameful noises that'd come spilling out of her mouth with each bite. She remembers showering the next day - night - however long it'd taken them to exhaust each other, counting the bruises and bitemarks, huffing to herself that he was so inconsiderate... and feeling her heart stumble over each one even so. This proof, printed onto her skin, of how badly somebody had wanted her.
They called it mana transfer long past the point that either of them had even pretended to believe that's what they were still doing. Maybe once or twice, he's mockingly disarmed her by reminding her that it's just sex. Neither of them have ever been quite so foolish as to admit it's lovemaking.
But Ai knows the difference.
She's greedy. Dirty. Hateful and selfish. The worst kind of lying, faking human. Some days, she barely even feels like she deserves to be called a human full stop.
Maybe that's why she's never gotten any of it right. Maybe all this time, everything else has just been for practice.
Maybe all this time, she was waiting for him to find her. ]
Oberon. Vortigern. [ Whichever one. Either. Both. All of him. Just so long as it's him. ] Do it properly. Touch me. Please love me.
no subject
there's nothing he can say. no words, no ideas, no thoughts that will ever give her what she wants. (what he wants to give her.) what else can he do? so he steels his heart, and he closes his eyes, and he ignores every last one of those beautiful words tumbling through his ears and eyes and memories.
he's not sure when her shirt came off. a vague memory of tearing at it, ripping it away while she was on his lap; his own clothes have mostly been shed as well, her head resting against his shallow and sunken chest as he carries her to her room. how many marks has he left, by now? enough that she has no hope of covering them. enough that anyone could look at her and know.
maybe it's just a lie, the way he lays her on her own bed - shockingly gentle, with hands that tremble against her skin. or maybe it's a lie, the way he moves to pin her immediately, the way he bites and licks and invades her mouth like the swarm of miserable curses he is. maybe it's a lie, how his fingers drop down, make a show of preparing her even though they've been doing this for weeks now.
if he doesn't let himself think about it, maybe he doesn't have to know the truth. maybe one of them might be real, that way. ]
no subject
Well. That's not quite right. Nothing about this is just hers anymore.
He's indelicate. He's never gentle or kind to her. He's never once been cruel. She's spent so much of her life trembling in fear of pain and she knows he could hurt her more deeply and more easily than anybody else. But it's been so long since Ai's been afraid of him that she's forgotten how it felt. ]
Mmn- kiss me again like that. Anywhere, all over- [ The only time she gives him commands like a proper Master and it's for something like this. She really is an intolerably filthy woman. ] I don't care how many bruises you leave. I just want to feel you. Please.
no subject
[ it's forced out, nearly panted, keeping himself just barely off her body with a single arm. two fingers slip in- three- he bites at her, sucks hard, drags beautiful stains of blue and purple and red on her neck and shoulders and breasts before he finally pulls his hand away.
except-
he doesn't stop. he keeps going, this time, leaving mark after mark after mark. her stomach. her hips. her thighs. each time, he feels more aggressive, more possessive, more hungry than ever before. an endless worm, only fit to eat and eat and eat. a reader kept in suspense for centuries, voraciously devouring every scrap put before him for his ending. each little cry, each little sound she makes is the proof he needs: he's hurt her, he's defiled her, he's made sure she can never, ever, ever escape his cruelty again.
he only moves to lap at her cunt when he's thoroughly satisfied. those dainty legs, covered from top to bottom in marks and hickeys and bruises and scratches. those beautiful eyes, filled with tears like stars reflecting on the water.
there's nothing precise about his technique now. gone are the days of him quickly, efficiently getting her where she needs to be. after all, this is for him, now, not her. ]
no subject
[ The words spill out of her, plaintive and needy and true. She feels so terribly lonely, so starved of touch and warmth even as she knows she has nobody to blame but herself. And even if she doesn't deserve it, even though needing it this badly makes her so unforgivably dirty - she doesn't care. All that matters right now is the sharp, bright sting of each mark blooming across her skin, the hot press of his mouth, the satisfaction of being marked all over, a proof of ownership that goes even deeper than a Command Seal.
Her voice rises sweetly with each new bite, each new bruise, each new scratch, sounding more and more blissfully helpless with each passing second. ]
Don't... don't tease me like that, don't make me wait, Oberon... ah, you're so mean, you're so...!
[ Or so she says, anyway. But it's transparently clear just how much she wants it. Everything from the tone of her pleading voice to the way her legs twitch and shake with each new mark - to how slick and needy she is and how eagerly her hips arch up into his mouth - betrays her and the noise that leaves her mouth, somewhere between a moan and a choked sob, is nothing short of obscene. ]
Mm...! Ah, like that, just like that, please, Oberon...