Laying unconscious on the luxurious four poster bed of the Demon Lord was his foe in the task of reviving his master.
What had made Ghirahim want to save the boy from killing himself out of exhaustion was inexplicable in truth. He truly did not know what made him stop on his way through Faron, searching for a clue to the existence of the spirit maiden, and from the sight of the boy's soaked clothes and dark circles under his eyes, he had most likely sat down for a break before exhaustion pulled him into a dangerous unconscious state.
So, Ghirahim had knelt in front of him, waving his hands in front of Link's face, snapping his fingers, and quickly finding that the boy was unable to be pulled from his slumber that easily, and so to save the boy's life, which was most likely not very long, as he would soon revive his master and they would start pillaging the surface again (well, more like rule it. There were none of the pesky humans dwelling on the surface now,) he pulled the hero into his arms and was quite careful not to shake him too much. Link was not a doll, but sometimes all he wanted to do was keep that boy for himself, and make him his possession. He did not know where that urge came from.
Swords are not meant to have their own things, but Ghirahim was unique. He was not just a sword, but a sword with a mind of his own, he could make alliances and break them, loyalty kept him fighting for Demise. If it weren't for that, he would have abandoned Demise to his own devices long ago and helped the boy defeat him. Link was interesting. He had to hand it to the boy for being able to keep the demon's interests for so long, and it wasn't just the fact he was so entertaining to fight, or to make him bleed and break, there was a certain charm around him.
It wasn't as much fun watching him become bloodied by the hands of one of his minions or a monster, and the cries of pain that he gave just weren't as satisfying if it wasn't his blade drawing the boy's precious lifeblood from his body. He also made sure that the boy wouldn't die. He wanted the boy to become stronger. He wanted to make sure that there was some credit he could place for admiring the boy.
So that's how Link came to be resting on his bed, his sky blue eyes -oh how they glittered in anger was only a glimpse of what they would look like when he smiled, he wanted to know- closed to the world. He shook his head and sat down on a chair, a wary eye fixed on the form of the hero. Thoughts were whispering treacherous lies into his head, and he waved them away with a simple shake of his head. Out with those thoughts.
Sometimes the bliss of Fi's pure ignorance was something he wanted to have. Yes, he held the same skills as her, though he preferred not to show the skills of a singer or a dancer. He had something akin to what she called 'dowsing', except he had no need of reverting to his sword form to be able to use it. He could drag his master by the hand and have the internal compass going off in the direction he needed. No, Fi did not have the same capacity for emotion and... other things that a mortal or demon's body was capable of.
In that case, Link had every part of what Fi was not capable of having all mixed up and confused and jumbled. One thing was for certain. He was attracted to Link. Not enough for it to be called that petty emotion love, but more of a deep interest. He very much would like to see how he could make Link twist and groan his name in pleasure if he had the chance to do so.
And he did. The boy was lying on his bed.
It was tempting to just go over and touch his body, but it felt somewhat wrong to touch him, he wanted to have the boy pleasured by his touches, not being an unknowning party while Ghirahim got off to touching Link's body without consent. As fun as fights were, he'd rather not be on the end of his sword, though he had removed shield and sword off of his body, carefully tugging the belts off so he wouldn't touch the sword, which had finally become its full potential.
He didn't want his hands to get burned by the light. It would be too potent to touch. After all, he was meant to be the shadows driven away by the light, but like all bugs that inhabited the dark, the light drew him out like a moth to an open flame. Ghirahim only had time before he burned from touching the fire that was Link.
The mattress springs creaked under his weight as he sat beside Link's sprawled body, looking down at him with a deep interest and he let out a soft purred sound as he drew a gloved finger down his cheek.
"Boy, you interest me." He softly spoke, knowing the sentence fell on deaf ears.
A little thing I wrote while I should have been working in class. Credit goes to twerkahim of tumblr to the picture that had spawned this one shot. Idk really what was going on but eeeyyyyyy