Title: A Taste of Poison
Fandom: Trinity Blood
Pairing: Isaak x Dietrich
Timeline: I'm setting it in the timeline after the Isaak Abel fight where the magician did get wounded. The rest, pure imagination.
Disclaimer: TB, Isaak, and Dietrich, not mine. Sadly. But also thankfully if not Lord knows what they'd be doing.
Dark splotches of blood marred the dust-caked tiled floor, forming a trail to where a wounded, dark-haired man lay, back propped against a half-ruined altar. Outside, the skies rumbled, a flash of lightning briefly lighting up the interior of the ruined church. 'At least the church would provide some shelter from the rain,' the wounded man mused quietly, a bloody hand pressed to the wound. He realized how ironic it was, for him to be taking shelter in a church. In a place of the Lord, no less.
A quiet chuckle escaped bloodied lips. He would survive this, but he needed tme. Time to recover and pull himself back together.
Somehow, the rumble of thunder seemed to have grown much quieter.
Isaak didn't know how long he had lain there, drifting in and out of consciousness, occasionally feeling blood seeping through his glove and onto his skin. The lightning had faded to a mere spark, barely enough to light up the ruined church when it flashed. His uniform was damp, apparently, he had miscalculated the amount of shelter the church would provide. The cold was starting to seep beneath the white shirt, and he involuntarily shuddered.
He didn't notice a dark figure stepping in through the half opened church door. His vision blurred, managing to look up at the figure as it stopped before him. Dully, he noted the blood red armband as the figure knelt down. He was still too out of it to recognize one of their Order's men, until the figure leaned close, chocolate hair brushing against his face, and whispered softly into his ear.
"If I had been anyone else, magician, you might already be dead."
Cool fingers crept up his neck, caressing the skin there, before wrapping around it all too firmly. His eyes widened at the contact, Isaak coughed, blood trickling down his lips, reaching up and gripping Dietrich's wrist. Dietrich smirked, leaning close, licking away the blood before pressing his lips to Isaak's, fingers working off the buttons on his coat. The magician tasted of blood and wine, a hint of sweetness amongst the coppery taste. Dietrich's fingers slid beneath the torn fabric of both coat and shirt, caressing the bloodied flesh on his chest.
He wasn't prepared for the intimacy of their contact, letting out a gasp of surprise as warm fingers touched his ice cold skin. Involuntarily, he shuddered as those fingers touched the wound, suppressing a groan of pain.
There it was again, warm lips at his ear, murmuring soft, incomprehensible words to him, nipping at the skin and sending shudders up his spine.
"Dietrich... Stop it..."
The nips at his ear paused for a moment. "And spoil the fun?" Dietrich knew he was pushing it, the magician was not in a very good condition and yet he was doing this. The man could pass out any moment now, he was weak from bloodloss and looked quite dazed. He shifted his body, sliding his smaller frame behind the magician's, so that the older man's body rested against his. "But this is a rare opportunity, my dear magician. I don't want to pass up on it."
The look in Isaak's eyes was unfathomable. Dietrich smirked, leaning close, pressing his lips to Isaak's once more.
The rush of sensations which hit the magician then nearly made him pass out. Dietrich tasted like poison, chocolate and wine mixed together, sweet, intoxicating, deadly, and he wanted more. But his body was tired, drained from the earlier fight, craved rest. The mind was willing, but the flesh was weak. He would have laughed. Isaak felt lightheaded, dizzy. His eyes were closing, limbs feeling numb...
Dietrich had pulled back when he felt Isaak go limp. He caught and cradled the unconscious magician, stroking a hand over his pale features, before climbing to his feet, pulling Isaak with him. Slowly, supporting the magician's dead weight, Dietrich made it towards the car that was waiting outside, gently placing his mentor in the backseat, climbing in with him.
"Drive." He ordered, and the engine of the black limousine rumbled to life as the car started down the road.
Dietrich stood at the bed side, watching the magician sleep. He knew that the sedative kept the man asleep, kept him from awakening and discharging himself from the care of the doctors. He knew that for Isaak, moments of consciousness were fleeting, teasing the edges of his mind but never truly within his grasp. It was better that way. The magician would only overwork himself.
But he had slept long enough.
Dietrich removed his shirt, tossing it onto a chair before climbing onto the bed. Straddling Isaak's hips, he leaned over the still sleeping magician and kissed him forcefully. The magician did not respond when his tongue slipped into his mouth. He still tasted like blood and wine and a tinge of rain that he never noticed before.
Moments later, a hand clenched in his hair, and he knew. Pulling back slightly, Dietrich smirked.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty."
His brown eyes met the magician's ebony black ones.
"I never knew you still believed in fairy tales."
Isaak pulled Dietrich down, crushing his lips against the puppetmaster's.
Dietrich still tasted like poison.