~Quick Info~

One-shot for DylasxFrey :) Some angst, fluff, and humor for all of your lovably, dorky horseboy needs.

Rated: T (some slight lime)

~Start~

Shaking, darkened fingernails brushed gently alongside his left cheek. He was staring at his reflection in the small mirror in Frey's bathroom. His own hands, gnarled and distorted from the sacrifice he made for Venti were shaking as he tried to force them away from the scar. He gripped the sink, his knuckles turning white with the force he was exerting, and he drooped his head in defeat. Periwinkle locks blocked his view and he felt a hot, burning sensation in his eyes. Tears.

Thunderbolt hurt people. Thunderbolt was a monster. But Thunderbolt was Dylas. Dylas was a monster.

He shut his eyes tight, images of lightening, sounds of a strangled cry, and a crumpled figure in the corner flashed in his mind. The figure was drenched in sweat, her small body twitching as electricity surged through her veins.

He didn't remember much after that. He retreated further into the ruins and watched as a man and a woman clad in butler attire picked up her lifeless body and vanished. Thunderbolt was angry whenever she came back to try and vanquish him.

Dylas, on the other hand, well, he tried to convince himself that Thunderbolt was a completely separate entity. He didn't feel the happiness that the horse got from hurting others. And hurting Frey...that was the last thing Dylas ever wanted to do.

"Damn it!" He shouted, slamming his hands against the porcelain sink.

"Dylas! What happened?! What's wrong?!" He heard Frey yell from the other room.

He cursed under his breath as he heard her boots tapping hurriedly against the floor. He thought she was still doing farm work. She yanked open the bathroom door with her mouth hanging open, as if she was waiting to scream for help.

"Dylas?" she said, taking a step forward and shutting the door behind her.

Her bathroom was small, too small for the both of them, and Dylas felt his cheeks heat when her chest momentarily bumped against his.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to startle you. I-I was just...I..."

"You're shaking," she said, lifting one hand to stroke his cheek comfortingly.

He batted her hand away and grabbed her wrist so she wouldn't try to touch him again. "Don't touch me, Frey. I-I don't deserve it."

She giggled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Now why on earth would you say something like that?"

"Don't laugh, Frey," Dylas said, turning his back to her and looking in the mirror at himself again. "I'm serious. I hurt you."

She didn't say anything for a moment and Dylas convinced himself that she was going to end things with him right then and there. Instead, he felt her soft, cool body embrace him from behind, her hands almost touching one another on his stomach.

"You never did that, love," she whispered, leaning her head against his back. "Thunderbolt was an evil entity created out of a beautiful sacrifice. Amber, Dolce, and Leon can all accept that. Why can't you?"

"Because they don't... Because I... And you..." Dylas found his cheeks beginning to heat once again and the thoughts in his brain became a mushy, tangled mess.

Frey giggled again and grabbed his hand to turn him around to face her. "I love you too, Dally."

"But how did you know I was...?" He started to ask but was quickly cut off by her lips.

They were soft against his, but urgent at the same time. He grinned slightly against her lips, reaching down to pick her up. She was maybe 5'2, but he was easily 6'3 and the height difference proved to be more than complicated on occasions such as this. He grabbed her thighs and cradled his hands underneath them while she wrapped her hands around his neck, deepening their kiss.

She moaned into his mouth and playfully nipped at his bottom lip.

"F-Frey, you know you shouldn't do that," he whispered huskily, his breathing rapid and broken.

She broke their kiss and smiled at him. Leaning towards his ear she whispered, "I know. But that doesn't mean that I won't."

She nuzzled his hair aside with her nose and began to kiss, bite, and suck his neck. She could feel him squirming underneath her and after some time, a rosy red mark the same size as her lips formed noticeably bright against his pale skin.

She admired her work proudly and Dylas let out a loud, lilting laugh that filled the room.

"So proud of yourself, are you?" he said, smiling brightly at his cute little girlfriend.

"Yep," she answered. "You better cover that up with makeup later or Porcoline is going to have a hay day in the restaurant."

"My hair will cover it I'm sure," he shrugged. "But I'm not done with you yet."

He scooped her up bridal style and carried her over to her bedroom. Laying her gently on top of the pillows, he hovered over her, letting her hands wander wherever they did so please. When she popped open the button on his pants, he leaned down right by her ear and whispered, "I do love you, Frey."

She smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, their lips brushing against each other slightly as she whispered back, "I know."

"New policy, new policy!" Porcoline sang as he bounded down the stairs carrying a small box.

Dylas looked up from the counter and Meg shot him a worried glance.

"Meg, dear, you don't have to worry about this one. You don't handle the food," Porcoline said.

"What's going on?" Dylas said, his lips turning downwards into a frown.

"You see, it's not every day that you have a restaurant staffed by two men with gorgeously long hair," Porco explained. "But some customers have been complaining of seeing horse hair in their soup!"

Dylas groaned. It had to have been Doug.

"So, to avoid trouble with the law, I've collected these black hair bands from every girl in town! Try one on!" He shoved a handful of the hair ties into Dylas' hands.

"Pebble brained dwarf," Dylas muttered as he quickly but messily tied his hair up into a ponytail.

"Very good, Dylas, you're a natural alread-" Porcoline started to say but stopped. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his mouth hung open, slack-jawed. "That-that mark! Oooh, Dylas, you naughty, naughty boy. So that's where you've been going in your free time!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dylas asked sharply.

"Your neck. It's stinging with Princess Frey's surprisingly strong mouth," Porco laughed heartily and Dylas turned so red he was sure his face would catch fire.

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about," Dylas stuttered, his embarrassed eyes glued to the floor as he slapped his hand over the hickey.

Margaret giggled and took a small bottle out of her purse. "Come here, Dylas. Frey should've known better to cover that hickey up before you came into work."

"I did, but he refused to listen to me," Frey said, standing in the doorway with a smug expression on her face.

Dylas stared at her with wide, embarrassed eyes but Frey just laughed.

"Let's go clean up his love bite, shall we?" With Margaret's response, she and Frey whisked an incredibly embarrassed Dylas into the bathroom.