Checkmate

Chapter Two

'Checkmate'

"...I can't believe I lost…"

Battler could only sit, staring at the board in horror. After his previous declaration that 'I certainly wouldn't lose to the 'dark side', not ever, not even in something as trivial as chess!', this certainly was a blow to his ego. And Ronove's creepy smile wasn't helping, either.

Man. I guess I should use my brain before I make claims that I'm 'undefeatable'- then I could avoid awkward moments like this. Or maybe I should stop tempting fate, full stop, because fate will always, turn around and sucker punch me in the jaw.

Life is just shit like that. And that's pretty much the whole truth behind the comedy of errors that is my existence.

Fuck this.

Battler glared down at the board with folded arms. His expression was so caustic it was a wonder hadn't managed to bore a hole through the table. His gaze flickered across the assembled pieces on the chessboard, trying to find a way out of the tight situation Ronove had placed his king in. However, it was useless- completely useless. Batter did have eyes, and he wasn't stupid, and he could plainly see his king was cornered; sandwiched between three pieces.

There was no escape.

Battler had half a mind to accuse Ronove of cheating; after all, the methods adapted by Beatrice to win her games were anything other than 'fair'. If Beatrice had a single, solitary shred of fairness in her withered old heart, then Battler wouldn't have been in the metaworld watching his family die over and over again in the first place. It stood to reason, then, Ronove would be just as sneaky and underhanded. But Battler didn't want to sound petulant and whiney on top of being a loser. That would just be pathetic. And Battler Ushiromiya didn't give in to demons- the words 'give in' weren't in his vocabulary! At least, not strung together like that!

So what if he'd lost? That didn't mean he had to let Ronove savour the victory.

He'd defeat him by losing, and then pretend he wasn't annoyed in the slightest! It was genius!

A small smirk tugged at his lips.

"Good move," Battler said, clapping slowly. "I didn't see that coming. I totally thought I was going to win."

"And that was your biggest folly, Battler. If you become too prideful and over-confident, your fall from grace will only be more devastating; even in something as simple as a game as chess~" said Ronove in his usual silky tones.

It was truly incredible, Battler mused, that Ronove was able to sound flirtatious even when he was talking about chess. That damned butler probably could've read out an instruction manual on how to construct a bird table and made it sound erotic.

Actually, that's a pretty useful talent- way more useful than that 'red truth' crap. If I could make my voice sound that good, I bet I'd have girls clinging to me. Now, that is a power I would definitely use for evil, ihihi…

"Whatever!" Battler declared, banging his hand down on the few remaining pieces of the chessboard jumped in alarm. "Let's get this over and done with! I lost, right? So what's my punishment?"

Ronove tilted his head to one side, his long, white fingers pressed against his lips. "Oh? Are you really so keen for me to punish you, Battler? How charming~ Pu ku ku ku~"

"What, you thought I'd be scared? Ha! Then you don't know me at all!" said Battler. He got to his feet in little under a second. Stabbed a finger in Ronove's face. The smirk didn't leave his lips. "No matter what you want to do, I won't give in! Do your worst!"

"How excellent!" Ronove said, his slanted eyes bright as constellations. "The passion of youth is so invigorating; I feel hundreds of years younger."

There was a small pause.

Then;

"…How old are you, anyway?"

"Older than I would care to divulge. Don't you know its rude to ask such personal questions, Battler?~ Milady obviously hasn't broken you in well enough, pu ku ku ku~"

"Yeah, well, I don't intend to let her. So sorry to disappoint you."

"Aha, how impertinent. Although it is certainly refreshing. I would be most displeased if Milady managed to extinguish your blazing spirit. I'm sure she would be disappointed, too. Mn~ In fact, I'm so sure of it I could state it in red."

"Don't," said Battler flatly, that small pout returning. "Part of the reason I'm here with you is to avoid all that stuff. I loathe that color now. Don't make me go axe crazy on you- it won't be pretty."

"My apologises," Ronove inclined his head slightly, grinning. "Although being a redhead suits your tempestuous nature; I sincerely hope you don't tire of it because of Milady's red truth. It would be such a pity."

"Like I'm going to let you demonic bastards affect my appearance! That would be giving in!" said Battler, throwing his arms wide as he made the point. That smirk crossed his face again; a smirk Ronove was sure he must have picked up from Beatrice.

Imitation may have been the highest form of flattery, but Beatrice's deranged expressions coupled with Battler's rather handsome face was a deadly combination. It made Battler look equal parts mentally disturbed and incredibly alluring.

"Alright, Ronove! Show what you've got! Ihihi!"

Well…

Making a request like that, whilst wearing such an enticing expression, was only asking for trouble. Battler really only had himself to blame for the events that transpired next.

Instantly, the table and the chessboard exploded into golden butterflies, drifting off to… God only knew where. It wasn't like they'd ever existed in the first place. Battler refused to acknowledge the existence of anything in the meta world, including chess pieces, chairs, and the dust in the air. So where did objects that didn't exist go when they ceased to exist even in the illusion world where they did have some false semblance of reality?

But that was all too philosophical for poor Battler's brain to cope with. George would've been able to understand all that, and offer some viable explanation for it all, maybe. But Battler wasn't George, and he wasn't a genius, and his brain was somewhat engaged.

So was his mouth.

And Battler doubted George had ever tried to solve a complicated philosophical puzzle about the state of existence whilst being kissed by another man.

…Or, if he had, Eva had some seriously messed up methods of raising children.

Battler's eyes snapped open in alarm, the pupils too small the vast expanse of milky white.

His mouth was being ravaged by Ronove's in a manner that certainly wasn't 'refined' or 'civilised' in the slightest; it was fast and hot and… fuck, how had Ronove learnt to kiss like that? Maybe there were some merits to being a demon that had lived thousands of years- you obviously got a lot of experience.

Who had he been practising with, though? The Seven Sisters of Purgatory? Beatrice? Bernkastel? Wasn't she about twelve? Her chest was even flatter than Maria's! Her bra size must've been in the negative numbers (…not that Battler classed the witches in the metaworld by their bust sizes, of course.

Well.

Maybe he did. A bit. But it was easier than remembering their names, which were so long and foreign-sounding. Language barriers were confusing, but the appeal of breasts was universal, right? It was just a matter of convenience- it had nothing to do with being a pervert!)

Was that what people did in the metaworld when they got bored? They made out with each other? Murdering people must have gotten old after a while; even for somebody like Beatrice.

But Battler couldn't imagine Ronove harbouring even the slightest inkling of romantic feelings towards the stakes, or Beatrice. For all his talk of how 'lovely' they were, he didn't seem to appreciate their 'loveliness' as much as Battler did (which was probably why, Battler mused, the Seven Sisters didn't keep going all Vlad the Impaler on him in the first place).

Ronove was entirely disinterested in them.

Even though they were women.

Even though they had boobs.

And that was probably why Ronove was so disinterested in them, if the way he spoke to Battler and stood too close to him at all times was any indication.

I probably should have seen this coming.

…

…Why am I still standing here, anyway?

But 'standing' was no longer the correct preposition to be using. Ronove had pushed Battler down into his chair, and was leant down against him- almost sitting in his lap- and Battler felt the breath catch in his throat as Ronove's gloved fingers reached forwards to take hold of his head, keeping it in place as he continued to kiss him.

It's not a very encouraging sign that this wouldn't even make it into the top fifteen on the 'Most Disturbing Misfortunes That Have Befallen Battler Ushiromiya This Week' list. Oh, my poor, normal life- I barely knew thee.

Battler gave a small, breathy 'ngh' as Ronove's lips continued to slide against his in own, his mouth opening slightly- and Battler shuddered, as he felt the other's tongue enter his mouth.

Battler wondered if he should close his eyes and try to imagine this was somebody else. He quickly rifled through his mental inventory of girls' names- Shannon, Jessica, Maria, the seven stakes (all at once?), Kumasawa (…how on Earth did that get in there?), Kanon (oh, except he wasn't a girl, was he? Oops. It was an easy mistake to make)- but he soon found none of them really fit. The most appealing one was sweet Shannon- but Shannon was so very sweet she'd never kiss anyone like that; it'd probably give her a heart attack.

So, in the end, it was just Battler sat there, Ronove leant against him, and it was Ronove kissing his lips, cheeks, neck, and it was Ronove's gloved fingers tangled in his hair, and it was Ronove's touch Battler was responding to. Ronove was the one eliciting those breathy moans from him- making him lean his head up automatically to take his lips into another kiss.

Well, if I can't pretend this isn't Ronove, then at least I can pretend I'm not Battler. Hahaha, you thought you'd defeated me, but I'm actually winning!

…Fuck. Now I sound like a lunatic.

Oh well. If you can't beat them, join them.

Battler found himself making a small gasp of displeasure as Ronove's lips finally left his. A strand of saliva connected both their slightly parted mouths. However, after trembling for a second or so, it dissolved into a single golden butterfly, which fluttered itself into nonexistence in less than a heart beat.

Even despite his frozen shock and the ice-cold blood in his veins, Battler couldn't help but roll his eyes at that.

That's a really weird way to use magic.

Then again, I would expect nothing less from Ronove, the guy who bleeds rose petals from the nose.

Alongside such cynicism, questions ran through Battler's mind at thousands of miles an hour, all mixed up with finely spliced emotions and fragments of sentences and various expletives into an indistinguishable mess of utter confusion. These questions ran into each other over and over again as they all desperately tried to escape his mouth at the same time. Battler's inward chaos resulted in a horrible train wreck of mish-mashed sound bytes emitting from his mouth, which sounded a bit like all the vowels in the English alphabet strung together; "AAEEIIOUU!"

Battler cringed.

Smoooth, Battler. Real smooth. With wit like that, you could be the next James Bond.

Ronove looked down at Battler with half-lidded eyes, his normally neat hair unkempt, as though somebody had been running their hands through it- and Battler realised with a jolt that had been him. His face was slightly flushed, and his lips looked so full- and as he tilted his head to one side, that smirk spread across those lips again.

"That was quite the undignified sound, Battler~"

As Ronove exhaled, Battler felt his breath ghost across his face, ruffling his hair.

He scowled.

"Fuck you."

"I would, with pleasure~"

"Yes, I think we've established that, you creeper. Aren't you, like, a thousand years old? Is there some demon I can go write a formal complaint to? I feel violated."

"Aha~ Violating Battler is indeed rather enjoyable; I should make a habit of it. Except, I fear Milady would not be fully supportive of such a depraved hobby…" Ronove smiled, reaching forwards to brush a few strands of Battler's hair out of his eyes. "Oh well. I suppose I will always have the memory of Battler's delightfully flushed face~ Pu ku ku ku~"

"Yeah, well, treasure that memory well, 'cause I'm never going to see that expression again," said Battler, eyes narrowing. "You took me by surprise, that's all."

"Surprises make life more interesting, don't they?~"

"Call me boring, but I don't like the surprises you people give me. I think I'll pass on that," said Battler irritably, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. "Euch."

"Oh come now, it wasn't that bad~ I am not only renowned for my skills as a butler."

Battler quirked a brow at this, and folded his arms. "That has so many unfortunate implications I don't even. "I can see it now; 'Ronove: the amazing magical male prostitute. He'll give you one hell of a time.'" He stuck his tongue out in a disgusted manner, and rolled his eyes.

"Pu ku ku ku~" Ronove laughed softly, his fingers reaching down to trace soft patterns on Battler's cheeks. He moved with the same grace as ever, and the expression in his eyes was thoughtful, as though he were contemplating what chess piece to move next. "I would never do anything so deprived~ I only pursue those that have taken my interest. You should feel flattered."

"I'm not."

But Battler didn't try to push Ronove away. His heartbeat began to speed up- but, at the same time, it felt like it had stopped beating altogether. The confused, contradicting sensations was making his brain bleed. Battler suspected having his stomach cut open stuffed with candies would have hurt marginally less, and trying to explain the murder with human methods to Beatrice whilst bleeding sweets and lollipops would've been a lot less confusing.

"Ah well," said Ronove softly, still smiling that twisted smile. He leant his face closer to Battler's and then, swiftly, he pressed another fleeting kiss against Battler's parted lips.

"Checkmate~"

And, with those final words, that damned butler dissolved into thousands of golden butterflies.

Battler sat there in his chair, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and inwardly seethed. You didn't turn yourself into butterflies after making out with somebody- that was such a social faux pas.

With a groan, Battler took his head in his hands, as though it were about to split down the middle, and shouted at nothingness;

"That fuckingbutler!"

Nothingness did not respond.

It was probably mocking him, too.

"Hey, Virgilia."

"What is it, Battler?"

"I was just wondering if you've ever made out with Beatrice before."

The blank-eyed, staring look on Virgilia's face was worth asking the question. If he'd asked Beatrice the same thing, though, that woman probably would've struck him to dust for his impertinence. She was so uptight about the strangest things, considering she had no qualms with murder.

"I mean, like, when you're bored?" Battler clarified (sort of). "I bet it gets pretty boring around here, so…?"

"No," said Virgilia, shaking her head stiffly. "I can honestly say I have never done such a thing. And neither has anybody else who wishes to keep all their limbs attached to their body. Why?"

"Oh. No reason. No reason at all."

a.n: This fic is fun to write :3 I think I have two more chapters left, and I'm done with this… odd… thing XD
This pairing is such a load of whut, honestly XD~ W-why do I like it? XD

renahhchen xoxo