Disclaimer: In reality, it's not the Idea of Evil... Kentarou Miura is God.
...Well, not really. But yeah. Not mine and all that.
This is sort of a birthday fic for iceblitz, who has griped continuously griped about the complete lack of Serpico/Farnese fic out there... the only one on FFN being also by me. XD So here, TAKE EEET.
Need
There was no flash of magic, bright lights or circle of esoteric symbols. There was only a pair of eyes coming into focus and a pair of lips drawing together to form a line.
The first thing Caska did as a sane woman was cry. Then she asked to be left alone.
Guts wanted to leave the island as soon as possible and Farnese didn't even think abut not following. Caska, however, refused to leave the elvish isle under any conditions. She was sick of it all – sick of the war and the parade of bodies and she had nothing left to push her any further – no heroic commander and no beloved warrior. Both were dead to her, or so she said. Whatever there had been between the two, it was now shredded beyond repair.
Farnese was at a loss.
She would find herself picking up a comb and then stilling her hands in midair, left with nothing to untangle. In the morning there was no one to cut up slices of meat for and in the baths there was no one to wash. The eyes so used to watching Caska out of the corners at all times found themselves with nothing to light upon.
Could she still serve a purpose?
Serpico could lend his sword, Schierke was irreplaceable, and even young Isidro bumbled along somehow.
Farnese? She had nothing now. She had only become a burden. For what reason was she really following Guts? Wasn't it really, at the core, to fuel her immature infatuation with the man? What foolishness.
She thought she had gotten over that weakness, that uncertainty with a slight tinge of madness that made her think things like this. She had changed; Guts had changed her and she was different than before. But now that her eyes no longer had to be trained upon Caska, they again lighted upon Guts, aching, needing for him to acknowledge her and her place with him. What am I here for? She wanted to ask him.
Her thoughts moved around in circles, always inevitably running back around to the same place. I want him, but I am of no use to him. I need him – just like I needed Caska – to support me, need him to stop me from losing myself again. He doesn't need me.
It was at these times that she would crawl like a wounded animal to Serpico where he would reject her again as he had before. She felt like she didn't understand him most of the time, but the one thing she did understand was that he didn't see her as a woman. Any touch from him could not be coaxed, only forced. It humiliated her to be be so undesired, but she needed his presence, no matter how much he might object. If he wasn't there, then she knew she would do something unforgivable.
And so she took him to her bed where she plied his body with cruel fingers that would pin his hands and teeth that would bite too hard. She never needed to tie him – of course he would never leave – but sometimes she did anyway, just to have him rub the bound areas to sensitivity – sensitivity that she always took advantage of. She couldn't make his mind want her, but she could do what she wished with his body.
Farnese always fell asleep first. She would never know what he whispered in her ears after she closed her eyes. It was probably better that way.
Farnese enjoyed kneeling above Serpico. She would run her fingers through his hair and grasp the sides of his head while attempting to decipher the expression in his glassy eyes, eyes that he only opened wider than a slit when she hurt him.
It was at one of these times – those times when Farnese would press her naked thighs into Serpico's sides and feel his shaking breaths with her skin – when those eyes looked back at her from behind their walls of glass and the accompanying lips asked her a question.
"Do you ever think of him when we're like this?"
"No."
It wasn't a lie. Farnese only thought of Guts when she pleasured herself alone.