This is a lot more... cutsy than the stuff I usually write . Well, I guess I was just feeling in an abnormally fluffy mood *is not feeling particularly fluffy at the moment*
Anyway... I like the smell of roses (the shampoo was the first thing that came to mind with this prompt) so here we are... poor Isaak... I see molestation in his future.
Warning: a bit of swearing, slash content (if you don't know what that is, look it up, cause I'm not responsible if you've got a problem with it), but no actually smexing (maybe next time LOL I luv this pairing)
Disclaimer: These people belong to Sunao Yoshida and all those other people who helped with the manga and anime and stuff
Sometimes, Isaak decided, Cain Nightlord could be a pain in the ass.
The methuselah glared angrily down at the pink bottle sitting innocently on its usual shelf in the shower. It was, in fact, not the pink bottle's fault at all. It certainly hadn't chosen to be pink, nor to contain the most glorious smelling rose shampoo that Isaak had ever had the pleasure of using to wash his equally glorious hair. Sighing, he reached down and picked it up, snapping the top open. Immediately, the scent of roses wafted pleasantly through the damp air.
Of course, until earlier that very day, Isaak had not been aware that Cain had also been a fan of roses, both their smell and appearance apparently. His glare returned, but he couldn't bring himself to abandon the shampoo, which he began to thoroughly massage into his dark hair.
He distinctly remembered the events from earlier and shivered.
He had merely been minding his own business at the time… A small bit of laughter drifted past his ears, and before he had the chance to move away, Isaak found himself enveloped in a warm embrace. The methuselah stiffened uncomfortably.
"Hello, Isaak," a familiar voice purred against his ear.
"Mein Herr," he growled, "What are you—?"
Hands wove into his hair, and he could see from the corner of his eyes that Cain had lifted it up to his face, running it over his pale cheeks and breathing against it. "Did you know that you smell very pretty, Isaak?"
The childish comment only served to agitate him further. "Please, mein Herr, if you're finished, could you—?"
The man behind him pouted, somehow managing to look like a sweet, innocent kicked puppy. Isaak knew that a monster lurked somewhere under there, but it was not visible from where he was standing at all. Yet he was wary. It was never a good idea to let your guard down around someone as dangerous as Cain Nightlord.
"But Isaak~" the man whined, "I was just being friendly." The lilt in his voice immediately set Isaak on edge. The crusnik maneuvered closer still, releasing his hair. Instead, Isaak felt soft lips and the tip of a nose against his throat. His whole body lurched, but he didn't dare move anywhere. A playful Cain was, at least, better than an angry Cain. The nose nuzzled up over his pulse. "You smell very sweet, mein rose."
"Eh?" Isaak did not like being called a flower, even by Cain Nightlord. "Mein Herr…"
A gentle nip at the base of his throat silenced any protests. The arms which bound him in place turned his body around so he was face-to-face with the crusnik. Isaak was disgusted with himself when he realized that he looked up from beneath his eyelashes like a blushing virgin. It had caused Cain to chuckle.
His cheeks seared with heat, but he couldn't tell how red they actually were. "Everything about you is so rosy," Cain teased, tracing a cool finger over his warm cheek to the sharp contours of his jaw-line. "I brought you a present!" His voice was that same childish sing-song that caused so many to misinterpret his true personality. Isaak was not fooled in the slightest.
"A present, mein Herr?" he asked a touch nervously, wondering if this was a good or a bad thing.
"Yes!" The man sounded far too delighted. Isaak watched in apprehension as his hand rose… only to reveal a flower. A red one. He looked back up, somewhat un-amused.
"Mein Herr…?"
Cain pouted. "Don't you like it?" the crusnik demanded. "I think it would go quite nice with your hair." Flirtatiously, Cain leaned closer. "It doesn't smell as pretty, though."
What had he done to deserve this?
There was no way he could protest when Cain started to weave the bloom into his hair, thorns and all. The crusnik pricked his finger a time or two and little beads of dark blood dribbled down his un-gloved hand to stain the pale cream and white of his suit and the shirt underneath, which ruffled slightly at the wrist. Isaak knew the crusnik was playing with him, though, as Cain wasn't that clumsy.
When he was finished (Isaak lamented that he would have to untangle the thorny stem from his beautiful ebony hair), Cain seemed quite satisfied with the result. "There!" he exclaimed. "It's almost as pretty as you are… mein rose."
It was perhaps the cheesiest thing he'd ever heard leave Cain's mouth. Isaak frowned.
"Mein Herr," he muttered, "What are you doing?"
The stupid, adorable pout was back. "I'm not allowed to flirt with my favorite methuselah, is that it?" How was it that Cain could use that voice of his to make Isaak feel guilty about this? "I'm being very nice, you know."
"Well, y-yes, of course, mein Herr, but—"
The lips were back on his throat again, and Isaak clenched his eyes shut, hating that his voice has wavered like that. The prick of fangs against his skin made the methuselah jump slightly, becoming even more tense in Cain's arms.
"I like you, Isaak," Cain purred. "Don't you like me back?"
Despite sounding entirely childish, Isaak knew Cain was completely serious. His abnormal behavior was settling the methuselah on edge. Certainly he didn't mean… like that…?
"W-well, I—"
A sleek hand ran its course down his chest and stomach, stopping just short of the apex of his thighs. A shudder ran up Isaak's spine, giving off little tingles of delightful warmth that made his toes curl of their own accord. His heartbeat was faster than it should have been; he knew it, and he knew that Cain knew, too. The crusnik grinned against his throat.
"You do!" Cain accused, sounding very pleased indeed.
There was no denying it at that point, Isaak conceded. He sighed, blowing a few strands of his hair out of his face and wishing desperately for a cigarillo. He was, however, distracted by the press of surprisingly soft lips against his own in a strangely chaste little kiss. The methuselah blinked.
Cain pulled away, grinning broadly with a light spattering of pink over his high cheekbones. Another kiss landed on Isaak's nose, nearly making him go cross-eyed. Cain giggled with disturbing delight. "I'll see you later, mein rose!"
He left Isaak standing in the middle of the hall wondering what the hell had just happened to him.
As he finished his mental recollection, Isaak made to rinse the last of the suds out of his long, silky hair, which wrapped itself around him rather like a living thing. His eyes once again drifted to the pink bottle on the shelf, now assessing.
He couldn't help but blush slightly and pick it up again, opening the top just for the sake of smelling the refreshing scent once more. His cheeks gained a deep pearly pink luster.
Isaak would not admit it to anyone—especially not Dietrich—but, despite the fact that Cain was a pain in the ass sometimes, maybe Isaak did like him that way… a little bit… maybe…
Aw... I luv this pairing (I think I already said that .) I might have to write lemony goodness for them when I'm not swamped with homework
Review if you wish to