Work Text:
“Get some rest. I’ll be with you tomorrow.”
“Wait!”
Distance
He needed to be somewhere else
Anywhere else
What was he thinking
He could still taste them on his lips
The wine, the cherries, the blood, the blood
What was he thinking
He wasn’t, clearly
But why
What was wrong with him
Nothing made sense
All of his carefully crafted control
His image
His decorum
Gone in an instant
Ripping off their mask
Clawing at their skin like an animal
Sinking his teeth into their lip
The lovely crimson painting their lips, the sweet taste of copper coating his tongue
Something was wrong
This was not how he carried himself
This was not how he treated his…
Toys
Partners
Lov—
Them.
Whatever they were
This doubt was unwelcome
This confusion was unacceptable
His mind was a morass of questions without answers
A cacophony of disorder that just kept getting louder and louder and louder and louder and
Breathe
In
Out
Calm down
In
Out
Center yourself.
In.
Out.
You are in control.
In.
Out.
Cirrus opened his eyes and found himself in a back room deep in the church. His body must have moved itself there while his mind was… occupied.
How did he let this happen? How could he let them affect him like this?
He could still hear their fervent gasps, their initial panic transforming into them begging for more pain. The way they came to accept the flame, control the heat.
They were beautiful.
Their exquisite screams, their writhing body painted in red wax.
It should’ve been blood. Wax is dull, flat, uninspired. The flowing crimson would’ve made them glimmer and shine, incandescent and intoxicating, glowing with the purest essence of life.
Stop.
Calm.
Center.
Control.
Meditate. Yes, he needed to meditate. To clear his mind. It would help. It had to.
There was no way of knowing whether they’d left his bedroom. He told them to return to their own room but when have they ever listened to him? Defiant little brat. Maybe they were even waiting for him there, like a dog awaiting their master. Either way, he could not allow them to see him like this again.
Glancing around the room, he nodded to himself. A small room, no windows, only one door. It was quiet, out of the way, not that anyone would be visiting this late. It was unlikely that they would find him here. This would suffice. He pulled a key from his pocket, the master key for the church, and locked the door. His robes pooled around him where he sat on the floor, legs crossed.
After reassuring himself that he was truly alone, Cirrus removed his mask. A soft click of metal on stone rang in the otherwise silent room as he placed it on the ground next to him. Close enough to put it back on in a moment if someone came knocking.
A deep sigh poured from his lungs as he ran a gloved hand down his face. His fingers lingered on his lips, still kiss swollen, and the sigh morphed into a growl. Beneath his fingers, his lip curled in displeasure and he moved his hands to rest on his legs. Palms up, opened to the stars.
He inhaled deeply, and on the exhale, his eyes slipped shut.
How did this happen?
They were supposed to go back to their room after the scene. Lunar God knows they were both exhausted and he needed time for himself. They were supposed to leave. They should’ve been resting.
But they just had to ask him what was wrong.
They asked him to share his fears while he was still adrift in the inevitable vulnerability after a scene. And like an absolute fool, he did. He should’ve known they wouldn’t just let it go. Always has to have the last word.
He pushed them. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known they wouldn’t just bend for him. Always a fighter.
They were supposed to back down. They were supposed to apologize. They were supposed to beg him not to remove their mask.
They didn’t. They didn’t care at all.
Why did they have to see him? Why did they try to soothe him like a petulant child? Why did they pretend to care? They both understand why they are here. They are here for ichor and he is here to provide it for them. Why should they care about his plans or heaven forbid his feelings?
Why was it that they were the one who lost their mask and he was the one who was exposed?
He could barely even remember their face.
He could remember their mouth.
The mouth he became acquainted with at dinner.
They were so expressive after the wine loosened their tongue, so honest. The way that tongue caressed his fingers. They were so eager for it, so pliant. A perfect little toy. The small sound they tried to suppress. Adorable.
His eyes shot open.
No.
None of that.
Inhale.
Focus.
Exhale.
Eyes closed.
He kissed them.
They kissed him back.
They didn’t even try to fight him. They responded fully, eagerly.
They enjoyed it. They whimpered at his touch.
He silenced them. It made it easier, somehow.
He knew they liked being treated roughly, that they liked the pain he gave them. It made sense that they craved it in all aspects. Whether it was his whip or his teeth, the burn of wax or the sting of his nails across their skin. His hand on their throat, his tongue in their mouth, eclipsing their presence with his own, breaking them down and building them back up again.
Then why did it feel like the more he fought for his control, the more he lost it?
Deeper.
Go deeper.
It was undeniable that he kissed them.
But why? Why did he kiss them?
He kissed them to shut them up.
He kissed them to put them in their place.
He kissed them because he could.
He kissed them because he wanted to.
He kissed them because he wanted to.
A scowl creased his face but his displeasure couldn't erase the truth.
He wanted to kiss them.
More than that, he wanted to do it again.
He wanted to still their ever-moving lips with his teeth. He wanted to steal the air from their lungs and replace it with his breath. He wanted to carve his name into their mouth with his tongue.
He wanted to consume them.
A frisson of excitement skittered across his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Yes, it said. Yes, you do. You can’t even try to deny it, can you?
And if he wanted it? It changed nothing. He’d always found them interesting. They became more interesting when it became obvious they wanted to be consumed.
If you behaved that way with everyone you found interesting, you would have a very different reputation.
Fine, so they were more than just interesting. They were fascinating, captivating, challenging, surprising. They ignited something inside of him that hadn’t burned in a very long time. He wanted to snuff out their light as much as he wanted to protect its shine and it was beyond maddening.
They were… incomprehensible. Every time he thought he had them figured out, they pulled the rug from under him. It should’ve been frustrating. It was frustrating. But it was also strangely engaging.
It was… fun?
Fun? Really? Honestly, you’re better than that.
And yet, the thought circulated. He enjoyed their company, he looked forward to their time together, and despite their best efforts to vex him at every turn, he wanted to keep them safe.
He needed to keep them safe.
So long as they cooperated with him, he would protect them with everything he had. They needed to cooperate. These kinds of feelings from either of them were an unexpected variable that threatened to upend everything.
This kind of lapse could not happen again. He would not allow it. Even if he had to lock them away, they would not leave his supervision. They’ll understand in time that everything he does is for their benefit.
After they were cured, well…
One step at a time, hmm?
A final deep breath and Cirrus opened his eyes.
He would save their life.
He would save them because he wanted to.
Taking up his mask from the floor, he carefully replaced it on his face. It was easy to forget it was there, he’d been wearing one for as long as he could remember, but in moments like this, its weight was a comfort. A grounding reminder of where he came from and what he’s working towards.
Failure was not an option.
Rising to his feet, he brushed any dust from his robes and adjusted his scarf. He’d spent more than enough time pontificating on a singular kiss and he still had some matters to attend to before he went to bed for the night.
He unlocked the door and strode out into the hall toward the kitchen. Perhaps he would make himself some tea while he was preparing the lavender water. He’d need to be very careful not to mix the two, naturally, but tea sounded wonderful.
He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the open door.
An iron door that should not be open.
And inside that fragrant room, the last person he wanted to see.
They were shining in the dark.
Twinkling like a star.
His star.