Mia Stella

Oneshot. Tribute fiction to Nimrod the Writer's Domination. Tragedy, pretentious and cold-blooded bastard it is, has an undeniable interest in love stories. An almost tender moment in a terrible chapter of the world.

(~*0*~)

Huh, another Domination side-shot, and another one with the title in Italian. *Is bemused* In my defense, it's hard for me to shift titles when I find something that fits...

Many thanks to Nimrod the Writer, who again gave me gracious permission to write a companion quickie to her story. I don't own Danny Phantom, or the plot Domination. Please enjoy the story, and keep in mind that I don't mean to upset anyone in the first few paragraphs. NTW has already made it clear what Vlad's beliefs are, and I'm just further exploring his warped little head. *Shudders* I'll need a cookie after this one...

Forgive me for crappy sex scene *Blushes* I'm really, really not used to writing them...

The title simply means, 'My Star.'

The deluded majority of the human race spends its time squabbling in filth, believing that their own personal, insincere moral codes will give earn them some grand prize in their afterlives and meaning to their current, pathetic existences.

There can be no haven for leftover ectoplasmic spawn, be it a place full of gaudy lights and wings, or a never-ending hall of torment for those deemed "wicked" by some master with many names. My capture of the world might be called a blessing to human beings in later years; the dust and grime off so many "faithful" humans is being slowly washed away with the dawning realization that yes, I am here to stay. The wise already prostrated themselves before my forces, knowing all too well that the only 'god' is he who might decide their doom with a wave of the hand.

In the beginning of my conquest, even those who humbly followed the new regime could not be certain that they would not be struck down by my army, though that will change soon enough. I won't needlessly slaughter my civilians, pardoning those who need to set a keen example for the rest of their community. There is only one person in my world who can always be assured that he'll wake up the next morning, (Despite what he may believe) and that is Daniel.

As is already painfully obvious, I have no ridiculous fears of toppling into some loathsome pit of fire or void of unquenchable despair when it is my time to die. The very idea has me smirking; clearly, if I have some vengeful sovereign I must answer to when I pass away, certainly by now he or she would've taken action. Struck me down. Asserted control. But no; my logic vindicates me. Man makes his own destiny, and those too spineless are denied the true essence, the true goal of our existence: pleasure. I've had the cup of all that is truly 'good' and enjoyable in this world dashed from my hands all of my life, never to drink or know true satisfaction in my miserable life.

So, I simply snatched the cup for myself, and with it came the world, and my darling. If brutal and unforgiving man is to deny me true joy, such as having a faithful companion to walk at my side and be mine, who are they to judge me when I take their last defense out from under their noses? Even if they do whine and prattle about it, as men so often do, my wonderful regime has them trapped under fallen buildings, their bones reduced to dust.

With power comes security, and with security, there is joy. There is also the undeniable pleasure of having absolute and undeniable control, especially you have more than anyone else on the face of the earth. Admittedly, with wealth comes pleasure, but I've come to find that the most intense and delightful sort of pleasure is having the one you've craved for; the world's golden boy, its defender of sorts, the most forbidden and untouchable sort of living trophy in your arms, and in your bed.

Speaking of which...

I turn my attention across the study to silently marvel at the young boy silently frowning at a closed volume of poetry on our favorite sofa, his pale fingertips massaging his temples. Feeling my smirk grow and a familiar craving begin to take over, I put down my own paperwork and stood up from my desk, still watching him. I thought that perhaps tonight I would simply wait until bedtime before taking him, but I doubt that I can wait that long. In a few strides I've crossed the room, and am standing behind him.

Daniel is contemplating another book he's been assigned this week-another one on romantic sonnets. How fitting. With a sigh, I phase through the sofa and wrap my arms around him, feeling him start abruptly at the unexpected touch. Amazingly enough, he doesn't demand to know what I'm doing or reprimands me for startling him. He's been startlingly quiet today, for some reason.

I pull him down to lay against me, ignoring the fact that the boy remained rigid as a board. I kiss the top of his head and see him scowl, but he doesn't throw a fit or a sarcastic remark as usual. Pleased, I eye the book in his limp hands, still smiling smugly.

"Books don't read themselves, Daniel. You might as well get started."

Now I see a spark of temper appear in Danny's glacier eyes.

"I know," he snapped halfheartedly, trying to pull away from my grasp. "It'd be easier if I didn't have maniacs breathing down my neck all the time."

I chuckle, but it doesn't last for very long. I see a familiar dullness in Danny's eyes; the spark has faded away, and quickly. The dark shadows underneath his eyes certainly aren't doing him any favors, either-he only looks defeated and exhausted.

Now it's my turn to frown. Hopefully, a quick gibe will restore him back into his usual grudging, uncooperative self.

"All the same, you best get started, little badger," I taunt lazily. "You have nearly two hundred pages to read in two days, though that certainly isn't so bad, is it?"

I wait for the automatic "Shut up, Plasmius" to come, but it doesn't, much to my surprise. Danny jadedly pulls the book open without a word, and his hand starts rubbing at his forehead more intently. I can see his eyes flick down to the text on the first page, only they look glazed and uncomprehending. After a few moments, he turns the page, head still tucked under my chin.

Satisfaction waning for some strange reason, (Didn't I enjoy the rare occasions Daniel was submissive to me?) I glance down at the page, frowning.

"Well? What was the first sonnet about?"

Danny struggles for a moment.

"Uh….love."

"For whom?"

I can see Danny struggling to come up with a response, then watch him simply shake his head and say honestly, "I don't know."

Something's not quite right. I can't tell what it is, however, and it annoys me. My brow furrows.

"The language can't be that difficult, my boy."

"….."

Was this his way of being defiant? I roll my eyes, and take the book from his hands. His eyes immediately start drooping afterwards, and I believe he's close to nodding off. I take a glance down at the love poem and read aloud:

"Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.

There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle."

I glance back from the page and look back at the boy, who's staring blankly into space, much to my irritation.

"Well? What is the poem so far about?"

Daniel seems to come around a little.

"The guy's trying to bribe his girlfriend into staying with him by making fancy promises he won't keep, most of which are dumb presents."

I nod hesitantly, though I'm radiating waves of disapproval in his direction.

"I beg to differ, Daniel. He seems truly infatuated."

"Anyone can use fancy words to make themselves sound nice, but he isn't offering her anything but mushy Hallmark junk. He's not promising to be her friend or anything or be with her when she actually needs someone to lean on. It's not realistic."

I forget how much of a turn-on it is when Daniel uses more elegant terms. Smiling broadly, I overlook the fact that his voice is unusually hoarse, and I ruffle his hair affectionately.

"….I suppose that is true," I say thoughtfully. "I suppose you will appreciate the response to the sonnet by Sir Walter…Daniel? Daniel, are you even listening to me?"

Again, Daniel is massaging his temple, only this time, he looks slightly fretful. Now truly irritated, I finally decide to ask, if only to make him cooperate:

"What's wrong?"

"My head's been hurting all day."

I blink; I'm certainly not used to receiving such simple, non-confrontational responses from him.

"You didn't eat much at supper." You never do is what I'd like to add, but I'm not done savoring the sweetness of this moment. I even pull my creeping fingertips away from Daniel's shirt buttons, if only reluctantly.

He shrugs. "I wasn't really that hungry."

Unsympathetic, I lay a hand on his forehead, gloating inwardly when he doesn't even bother to fight me off. These past weeks have definitely marked signs of improvement, and while I'm patient, I'm still eagerly waiting for the day he relaxes into me by choice.

I withdraw my hand. "Perhaps a little warm, but nothing serious, I assure you," I say dismissively as I turn my attention back to the book, only to let it slide from my fingertips back to the coffee table. Oh, the hell with it. "Nothing an early nightcap and a bit of exercise won't solve."

Daniel gives me a puzzled glance at the last part, but soon enough, he's protesting as I hungrily scoop him up bridal-style, phase into Plasmius, and leap through the ceiling wall, intangible. If I have to wait another second to get into his body, I think I might scream.

~(*0*)~

When a few rays of sunshine feebly begin to appear in our room from the windows, I'm already out of bed, bustling towards my-that is to say, our closet. I already know what I want Daniel to wear today, and I'm already imagining peeling the clothes off of him later that evening, if I have the restraint to not simply phase them off.

Yet again.

"Rise and shine, little badger!" I call out cheerily, knowing full well that will annoy him. Danny is not even visible; I'm talking at the small lump in our bed completely covered by the gold comforters. It moves slightly as I speak, but not much. This is hardly new to me, and I impatiently stride over to the bed, reaching under the covers to shake Daniel by the shoulders.

"Come along, Daniel-you can't spend all day mucking around in bed, can you? We have a busy day ahead of us."

"Nggggnnnnhhh" is the only response I receive for a moment.

At last, the younger halfa reluctantly appears out of the mass of blankets, but my smile fades when I glance at the flushed, quivering boy who is still clutching the comforter to his chest, like a security blanket, teeth chattering.

"I-I-It's c-c-chilly in h-here," he complains, slowly putting a foot on the floor and wincing. "T-the floor is l-like ice, Vlad!"

He tenses immediately as I resignedly place a hand on his forehead, but it doesn't last for very long. The boy is burning up-he certainly hadn't been nearly so warm the night before-and his eyes are watery and unfocused. He's covered in goosebumps, though his temperature is decidedly off the charts, and he's swaying slightly. I feel the slightest pang of guilt when I realize that I forgot to give Daniel his immunizations when arrived, though in my defense, he's been shut off from virtually every disease in the safety of my meticulous castle. Where in the world could he have gotten a fever from?

Danny winces as my fingertips trace down to his heart, and his hands jump to his chest.

"Ow. Why does my chest hurt...?"

I ignore him for a moment, frowning considerably as I feel Danny's heart leaping against my hand, making it difficult to discern individual beats. It's definitely something I've felt before, but...

"Daniel, calm down," I order, not unkindly. Danny attempts to take a deep breath, freezes up, and closes his eyes. I can hear him swear softly between his teeth. I roll my eyes.

"Language, little badger," I sigh, at a loss as to what to do next. I make him look at me, and tell him to follow my hand with his eyes. I wave it in front of his face, and his blue eyes do move, but barely. Obviously, I'm going to need to consult a physician.

I lean back, conflicted; my more rational side juxtaposed against my more indulging side. I'm hesitant to let him take the day off-there really is a lot of work waiting for us-and I will not tolerate my apprentice attempting to fake illness in the future so that he might slack off. But even I'm not so heartless as to make the boy do excessive exercise and concentration when he can scarcely hold his head up.

A thought enters my mind, and an undeniably evil smile blooms on my face. Well, now, why wouldn't we just see how ill Daniel truly was?

"...well, little badger," I drawl out reluctantly, keenly eying his reaction. "I suppose a day off wouldn't exactly harm you, would it?"

The bewildered and almost alarmed look on Danny's face annoys me. I continue:

"I suppose I'll simply have to check up on you continually today-"

Danny tries to cut me off, but I don't allow him-

"-which means, you'll simply have to spend the entire day by my side," I finish, leering at him. I'm positive Daniel will drag himself out of bed with an untreated broken leg rather than face that particular option. The thought doesn't admittedly please me.

Daniel just continues to eye me warily, sighs, and then nods submissively. Confused, I stare at him for a moment, and try again:

"Did you hear what I said? I said, you and I will spend some lovely, non-stop quality time together if you-"

"I heard you," Danny says softly, staring dreamily into space. Peculiar; I hadn't noticed how red his eyes were until now.

No griping or insistence that he was perfectly fine? No biting remarks or signs of fear? This has to be a dream come true, although the circumstances are less than desirable. I feel his forehead again, and Danny shivers. His normally pretty complexion today is not nearly so fine; his face is rosy and flushed, and his skin has an unhealthy pallor to it, as if he'd never seen sunlight a day in his life.

Smiling and shaking my head, I lay him back down on the bed, and listen to his squeaks of dismay when I pull the blankets away from his hot body. He'll only get worse if I allow him to wrap himself up like a turtle, regardless of how cold he feels. I ring for a servant to bring me a washcloth and a bucket of icy water. I intend to stay true to my word, and not allow the boy one second of peace to himself today. That'll teach him to get sick in the future.

During the day, Danny starts coughing, and I also ring for a variety of medications to be brought up. The way he's clutching at his chest every time he does makes me realize how much it hurts him to do so, yet he can't seem to stop. I don't let on that I'm a little anxious; instead, I only make him swallow several doses of fever relieving tonics and a few pills for the pain. He scrunches up his face like a child's as he swallows with some difficulty, looking miserable. When it came to lunchtime (I insisted he eat something), he swallowed maybe a fourth of his soup, looking as though he had to swallow tacks instead of broth. I only let him stop eating when he insists that he's also feeling queasy.

The color has drained out of his face, but I can't decide if that is admittedly a good thing; his face is ashy now, and gleaming with sweat, though he keeps on shivering. By late evening, I finally break down and cover him with a blanket, though the shivers don't stop.

Danny doesn't get up at all the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next.

I have a new physician bending over him, (I had the old one dispatched when he blindly suggested that Daniel might have contracted an STD from somewhere) and Daniel's so doped out on pain medicine that he can hardly understand his surroundings. When the doctor asked him to tell him what state he was in, he was just given a blank look and told, "Canada."

I'm irritated, but most of all, I'm worried. I've gotten little next to no work done in these past few days, and I've gotten little sleep. While I have plenty of servants who are able to wait on the boy, I detest the idea, and insist on doing it myself. Danny spends a good deal of time in restless sleep, tossing and turning uncomfortably as I keep bathing his skin in alcohol rubs, attempting to control his fever. To my dismay, I've noticed that he's been coughing up rust-colored fluid, and the pressure I have on Dr. Bates and his frantic team is mounting. I've given them all one more day to improve Danny's sky-rocketing temperature, and they're all too aware of the consequences that will come if they don't.

At the very least, they've been able to diagnose him. Bates concluded (After checking many, many times) that Daniel has pneumonia. Evidently, Bates and his team believed that Danny had suffered a great deal of stress in the past few weeks, causing his immune system to drop, making him much more vulnerable to a significant, long-term illness. Bold. I don't know if the diagnosis should secure their fate or seal it.

On the fourth night of Danny's prolonged bed-rest, I'm staring down at him as he quakes underneath his thin blanket, whimpering in his sleep. I obviously have no idea what to do; do I remind him of the people who'll suffer considerably if he doesn't put all of his mental effort into recovery?

Or do I try something else? I remember all too well when I decided to start focusing on Daniel's pleasure as well as my own shortly after he arrived; it made the boy a moaning, uncertain mess in my arms, and I adored it all too well...pardoning the most unpleasant occasion when Daniel had decided to reject me. That night, I'd snapped, and punished him dearly for it-and since then had simply gone back to addressing my own satisfaction.

Danny makes a soft sound underneath the blanket; I can see just a trace of his spiky hair, much of which is glued to his face. I swallow heavily.

I'm not being cruel to Daniel. I'm helping him, and if satisfies my own needs, so much the better. I do love him, which he doesn't yet understand. He will, invariably, and settle back in my arms, with the understanding that he's safe and mine. I've been robbed of so much in my miserable life, I had no choice but to chain him and make him be by my side. Losing him will mean losing absolutely everything; he was the entire reason I took over the world and destroyed millions of people to begin with! One day, he'll understand this, and he'll adore me.

As to how this happened...well, I have no explanations, but it's certainly not my fault. People get ill; that's the way of life. People also die, but Daniel's not slipping from my grasp quite so easily. Oh, no. He has yet to understand how precious and treasured he is to me; he really ought to have caught on by now.

Have I not been trying hard enough? The thought leaves me remarkably guilty.

Yes, I've made him my slave, but only so I could help perfect him, make him powerful, make him mine. I'll chip away at all the useless, ugly rock fragments until the gemstone is free from it all, its faucets untarnished and whole.

I hear a muffled sob underneath the covers, and I sigh heavily. Without another thought, I tug on more of the comforters over Danny's burning body, strip, and slide underneath with him, wrapping my arms around him.

Daniel just gazes at me uncomprehendingly in the darkness as I remove his clothes, and press our nude figures together, saying nothing for a moment. I feel Danny's thin frame shake beside mine, and to my surprise, I feel a leg wrap around my torso and pull me closer. Danny lets out a little sigh, looking completely out of it.

"You're warm," he comments in a whisper, snuggling his face into my shoulder.

Taken aback, and wondering if I too were in some sort of mad fever dream, I stroke his hot back, now slightly troubled.

"Daniel? Do you know who I am?"

"Uh..."

After a moment's pause, it became painfully obvious to me that he was delirious. Completely delirious. Danny just laughed softly; a garbed, painful sound.

"Um, no. Not really. I think you're that guy who's been hovering over my bed for a long time."

A pause. Danny's voice is dazed and frail, but honest. He continued, chuckling feebly:

"But you're warm, so I guess you're alright."

I have to admit; it's a sad thing to only receive compliments from your most dearly loved one when he's a hallucinating mess. However, I press him closer to me, unwilling to let the moment go. I hear him sigh happily when I tentatively cup his face, and lean into the touch. I can feel my own heart fluttering pleasantly, and it's clear to me that I'm not about to let this valuable opportunity pass me by. Daniel will belong to me for the rest of his life, so how am I not entitled to take advantage of him? I start kissing his neck, and, after a moment's hesitation, I hear him start to groan and feel him wriggling beside me to increase the friction. An idea immediately lights up in my head, and even I almost wonder if I'm a scoundrel to think of it. It failed so badly the first time, but...

First, I want to see just how willing he is.

I immediately phase into Plasmius, and Daniel tenses as I roll us over, leaving him trapped beneath me. I can see his face again in the darkness, which again looks flushed, much to my satisfaction. I immediately start lavishing kisses on his collarbone, and to my intense thrill, Daniel simply leans his head back with a pretty little moan, giving me better access. When I move my burning hot mouth to start encasing one of his nipples, I hear him make those oh so lovely whimpers again, leaning his warm head against my chest, where my core was.

I can almost hear him smile.

Adrenaline soaring throughout my body, not wanting to wait another moment, I immediately slam forceful lips over his mouth, and, after a moment's hesitation, I feel him return the kiss, hot tongue uncertainly entwining itself with mine. My eyes rolled back and a deep chuckle resounded in my throat, throbbing lower regions distracting me badly, especially when Daniel inadvertently pressed our groins together again, trembling fingertips clutching at my arms.

I felt my eyes turn red, and my heart rate continued to climb as Danny continued to move throbbing flesh against throbbing flesh. This was better than a high, a cause for Carthasis; I never once recalled Danny willingly press himself against me ever since our wonderful first night. He'd screamed and cried a lot, but I'd been overjoyed to have Danny Phantom shaking underneath my body, confirming my complete and utter domination, moaning my name as I thrust repeatedly into him, consumed with power and lust.

Eyes lidding, I feel a similarity to that night, only now, it's softer, but even more pleasurable. I can't explain it, and I'm desperate for more. Without thinking about the matter anymore, a clone of mine immediately bursts into existence beside me, and he seizes hold of the startled boy, cradling him against more hot skin and shifting his hands to Danny's member, stroking languidly while I continue to molest his mouth. We can hear his groans, and he's quivering wildly in my clone's hands, but I get the feel of anticipation off of him, and not fear.

My heart skips a beat as I feel Danny clawing at my white tunic. Almost manic with pleasure, I withdraw our lips with a slight pop, and watch him dazedly eye me, looking lost.

"Something you like, little badger?" I breathe as my clone eagerly pushes his tongue into Danny's gasping mouth, and I hungrily eye his member, feeling sinister.

Danny lets out a cry as my teeth close on his clavicle, and I'm delighted when he bucks into my touch as I caress his member, squeezing his and mine together, precum leaking from both our tips. I'm positive he can feel my clone's excitement behind him, but far from looking frightened, Danny just moans loudly as my clone continues to ravish his mouth. He pulls away with a slight pop, blushing furiously.

"Yes...but...this...in way..." he mutters, tugging at my tunic by means of explanation before my clone resumes orally molesting him, hands playing with the buds on his chest and making him squirm wildly.

Smiling triumphantly, my clone and I don't hesitate to phase our clothes off, sandwiching Danny in a hot, sweaty embrace. Staring wildly down at him, I move my lips down to his, and ask him something I never have before:

"Do you want this?"

Barely-open blue eyes gaze at me, almost unseeing in their haze of lust.

"Yes," comes the reply, a soft gasp from wet, swollen lips.

Well, now, who am I to deny him?

My large hand closes around Danny, and I immediately begin to stroke hard. Danny tenses, toes curling and hands curling into the sheets as he moans, momentarily distracted. My clone immediately shoots his hand out from underneath the blankets and seizes something on the bedside table, drawing it back inside. Danny just stares at my sweating, heaving chest, before he becomes distracted by the sensation of fingers trailing up his inner thigh. The hand moves beneath him, caressing his behind before the touch slides deeper. Startled, Danny immediately whips his head back as he groans, and my entire body trembles with the effort of holding back.

"D-Damn, Daniel..." I murmur in disbelief as he pushes his member insistently against mine. "I fucking want you..."

I feel as though I'm melting when my clone offers me the lotion, already done frantically slathering it on his own warm body. Soon enough, I'm braced over Daniel as his chest continues to rise and fall dramatically, despite the pain.

My muscles ripple and heave, trickling sweat as I slowly push in, Daniel clutching tightly at my hair. Soon, he's pressing back against the part of me that's filling him inside, and as soon as I withdraw from his supple body, my clone immediately pushes in from the other side, groaning heavily. Danny just grits his teeth and says nothing, with no tears, no hateful cries.

Soon, pleasure overcomes the pain, and Danny's panting, moaning, begging us for more. "Aaaaghh! Harder…please, do it harder! Yes, faster…oh God, yes! More!"

We alternate between thrusts, and I seize the boy in an open-mouthed kiss as I do as I'm told, speed increasing. I pull out fast, only to thrust as powerfully into the boy as I can, entering as deeply as I can go. My clone rapidly alternates from my deep thrusts to more shallow ones into the boy's tight sheath, directed to pound into the spot that made Danny scream and tremble every time.

It wasn't long before we come to the end of our endurance, spilling all over each other in a collective series of gasps.

~(*0*)~

In the morning, Daniel knows me, but hasn't a clue as to what happened last night. It's a hollow sort of victory as he buries his head into the pillow, once again red-faced and grumbling. He's still quite ill, not ready to leave bed, but he's now well enough to pay attention to Ghostwriter today. I'll have to tell him class will be in here today; Daniel has quite a lot of catching up to do.

As I change my clothes, listening to him faintly complain about the workload he was in store for and Ghostwriter's ruler, my hidden, relieved smile gives way to a deep hollowness in my chest as I recall the evening before. I feel as though I had a one-night stand with someone I truly loved, only to find them gone in the morning.

It hadn't even been truly real. The boy hadn't even known who I was-who he was, for goodness' sake. It had been an illusion of what I longed for the boy-what I desperately needed from him.

I neatly tie my bow and cast a weary, resigned glance into my looking glass. But soon enough, a large smirk covers my face, and a sense of nascent satisfaction overwhelms me. I look forward to meeting that defeated, that willing and desperate to please boy again. For right now, it's simply a matter of patience; I'll have him with me soon enough.