Breath and teeth and tongue. Skin on skin, silk on silk on silken sheets. Frankenstein's eyelashes flutter, Raizel's soul shimmers, and they draw in each other's breaths. But, closer.
"Master…" Frankenstein whispers as he hesitantly pulls away from Raizel's lips, the taste of sugar and tea still lingering on them. He stares at them for a moment, and they glisten like strawberries, cute and sweet, just like Master. His gaze travels up to meet Raizel's gentle eyes, and Frankenstein presses forward to capture his lips again, lifting his knee to rest it on the bed this time as he hovers just above Raizel. His hands trail down Raizel's neck, smoother than satin, then over his collarbones to reach his shirt, and he helps Raizel shed his clothing.
Raizel does the same for him.
Give and take, they have always been a balancing act, though Frankenstein would prefer for him to give and give and for Raizel to take and take. Take him and let him, for a moment, be Raizel's everything. Forget about duty and blood and nobles and humans. Right now, this time, this place, there is only them, only us.
Frankenstein crawls fully onto the bed and has Raizel beneath him on his back. He hears Raizel draw a breath as Frankenstein presses their bodies together as he admires Master's flushed face. Even now, Raizel looks as pure as Heaven. No, he is as pure as Heaven, if there were such a thing. And if Heaven exists, it would be right here. Frankenstein knows this.
He lets out a soft sound into the side of his master's neck.
"Frankenstein," Raizel says, his voice serene and steady as he rests his fingers on Frankenstein's shoulders. Frankenstein's breath catches in his throat as Raizel effortlessly rolls them over. He searches Frankenstein's eyes to ask if this is really okay, and of course it is, like always.
Frankenstein smiles at him, but his smile falters when Raizel straightens up and backs away. "Master?" Frankenstein says as he tries to sit up, but his body does not obey as if he is bound to the bed.
Ah.
His heart flutters in anticipation. Frankenstein has always been a doctor and knows every inch of his own skin. Knows how to move, how to walk and talk, how to play and play pretend. It was about control, control over his body, his mind, his soul. Captain of my fate, master of my soul. But here he is, bound by the powers of someone he calls "Master," and he loves it, because it is Master. Only Master. To submit completely and know he is safe because Raizel holds Frankenstein to be more precious than his precious self is his salvation. Yes, a ruinous Heaven is what Master is.
"I'd like to see you do it yourself," Master says, his eyes softly glowing, like a warm fireplace, like home.
Frankenstein's hands, like enchanted serpents—and they really were enchanted—pass over his own body, a fiery ghost's touch, and undo his pants. They reach in and stroke him in a way only Master knows.
Frankenstein swallows and breathes. Rosy-faced and stuttering. Vulnerable and slightly embarrassed. Sweat glides down his skin, and he's gorgeous. Frankenstein knows this much, because he sees what Master sees, feels what he feels through their bond, and oh, if only Master could see himself to be just as beautiful. If only Master could see how hypnotic he is; Frankenstein would not be intoxicated otherwise.
Frankenstein is enchanting in his enchantment. He captures Raizel as Raizel has him. And it is enchantment, because mind control is an executioner's tool, and Raizel is his lover, his savior, his Master, before he is anyone's executioner, including their own. He is Raizel.
Just here. Just now. Just us. This world is small, and there will be no tears tonight.
Frankenstein's hands still, and Raizel nears him once again, replacing his hand with his own and releasing Frankenstein from those ethereal bonds.
Frankenstein reaches out and wraps his arms around Raizel to pull him closer, locking their lips together as if he is trying to catch a ghost of a dream. But Raizel is real and solid and has Frankenstein breathless. "Master," Frankenstein whispers into the small space between their lips barely big enough to fit his words. "Bind me."
And Raizel does so, because he cannot deny Frankenstein anything. He holds him close and casts his spell once again, and Frankenstein is spellbound. By his red eyes, by his mind, by their soul. Everything. He feels aflame, as if he is drowning in sensation. Master's movements and gaze wring though his body more intensely than they normally would, and Frankenstein's being sings with everything he feels. Their heartbeats, their breaths, their blood are all they hear—all they choose to hear—for now.
For now.
Now.
Raizel smiles gently and blushes earnestly, leaning down to kiss Frankenstein's brow. He sheds the rest of their clothing and repositions himself between Frankenstein's legs. Frankenstein attempts to wrap them around Master, and Raizel allows him this. He arches into Master as Raizel's fingers open him up before pressing himself into Frankenstein.
They know each other's bodies well, and Frankenstein feels Raizel move in him in just the right way. They are too close to breathe, and Frankenstein is left gasping. This particular kind of delight, burning and potent, shakes his body and he comes, clutching at the sheets as his mind blanks and his orgasm courses through him. He reaches out to Master and pulls them closer to each other, and he feels—through a shudder, through a sigh—Raizel release shortly after.
Frankenstein turns on his side and gazes at Raizel. Raizel gazes back.
His eyes wander to the sunlight peeking through the curtains before focusing on Master again. Frankenstein sighs and smiles. He does not want to get up, does not want it to be tomorrow already. If only moments were immortal, as immortal as he wishes Master to be. The thought dampens his expression, and he knows Raizel notices.
Raizel breaks his gaze momentarily but looks up again. Sunlight illuminates his eyes, and they gleam like fresh, swirling blood—blood he spilled yesterday, blood he will spill tomorrow. "Frankenstein… " Raizel says, invisible dust dancing on his words.
"I know," Frankenstein says, trying to convince himself yet not wanting to be convinced. "But can I not dream?"
"I will not deny you that."
You will not deny me anything.
A pause. They look at each other. It is true, painfully true, and they smile.
Raizel pulls Frankenstein a bit closer and strokes his hair with his fingers, cradling his head gently as if his skin were thinner than paper-thin. "We are here, Frankenstein. For now, do not think of those things."
Frankenstein nods and closes his eyes. Perhaps tomorrow can come a bit later today.
So yeah, that's my attempt at some sort of smut, kind of. I hope this is okay. There's a parallel/reference to one of my other fics, Eden, because Dark Spear is always lurking.
"... Captain of my fate... / ... master of my soul" is from William Ernest Henley's poem, "Invictus".
