Okay, I may or may not have gagged once or twice whilst writing this chapter. You'll see why once you read it.

So, a bit of character development for Lord Vile, and LionsandTrolls, you may or may not consider your remark of Vile being in 'creeper territory' an understatement. I got a little uncomfortable writing the part from Vile's perspective, because I don't like sexualising people. Again, you'll see why if you read this.

Oh, and I might be posting the one-shot series sooner than expected. Keep checking my profile if you're interested.

Well, without further ado, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 21 – Slipped Up

Vile had always been there. A persistent, angry voice in the back of Skulduggery's mind that whispered cruel tortures and nightmarish threats in his ear.

The first time he'd ever gotten out; Skulduggery was ten and playing with the cook's dog; a docile old Irish Wolfhound with the calm temperament of a rock. Skulduggery's eyes had suddenly gone manic, and whilst the cook wasn't watching, he swiped a knife from the table and stabbed the dog.

Moments later, Skulduggery; in effect; 'woke up' to find a knife in his hands, blood splattering his front and a dying dog at his feet. His cries of horror had alerted the cook; a healer called Clove Fitzpatrick; who immediately healed the dog and tried to calm a distraught Skulduggery down enough to tell him what happened.

Too traumatised to do much else, Skulduggery had broken down in tears, begging Clove to believe that he didn't know what had happened. He'd just blacked out before coming around to find he'd stabbed his friend. Thankfully, the cook had understood that he wasn't truly at fault.

"Don't tell your father," Clove had made him promise.

After that, Skulduggery had started noticing Vile a lot more. Fearing what people would think if he told them, he'd locked the voice away and made sure it would never escape again. Since then, at least one part of him knew what it was like to live in a cage.

But even the most well-made defences can be slipped through…

It was Vile who looked down at the sleeping form of Erskine this time. Dozing away; peaceful of ever; the gold-eyed mage was the epitome of masculine beauty with a perfect face and absolutely gorgeous body.

All mine, Vile thought, a possessive glint in his eyes. In a solitary alcove of his mind, he could feel Skulduggery's anxiety rising. What was he worrying about? Vile would never hurt his sweetheart.

'Maybe not on purpose,' Skulduggery said. 'But you always manage to hurt people, no matter how careful you are.'

'Not him,' Vile spat back. 'Not the way you did. You left him.'

'I didn't know, and neither did you, you hypocritical bastard. Now bet back into your time-out corner.'

'No.'

As Skulduggery continued to yell at him in outrage, Vile returned his attention to Erskine. He was still asleep, but that was understandable.

"My poor baby," Vile whispered, kissing Erskine's forehead softly. "They were really bad to you, weren't they? Don't worry, I'll make them really hurt once I find them. And if she's still around, I'll finish what I started with Darquesse. It would've been fun to watch those Faceless Ones decimate her, wouldn't it?"

'You're crazy,' Skulduggery muttered. 'Now let me back out. You've had your moment, now go back to hell.'

His demands went unnoticed, and Vile had to suppress a grin as he traced a finger along Erskine's jaw, marvelling at the touch. He was finally doing this, after so many centuries. And this time, he was no longer a mere bystander who had to make do with second-hand sensations and someone else's emotions. These were his feelings, and damn did he enjoy it.

His hand hovered over Erskine's eyes, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than for those gleaming, metallic orbs to open and lock with his so that he could lose himself in those molten gold depths.

Vile didn't notice the look of fear that flittered across Erskine's face when he started stroking his fingers along his love's side. Skulduggery did.

'Vile, that's enough,' he growled. 'You're scaring him.'

'He's fine,' Vile dismissed.

'No, he's not. You're going too far, now let me back out. NOW!'

There was a moment of darkness and confusion, and when Vile regained his senses, he was greeted by black metal bars and a murky red mist.

Great. He was back in this shithole again.

As usual, the transition of control between Vile and Skulduggery left the latter momentarily disorientated. When the confusion cleared, he immediately stood up off the bed and tried to shake off the disgusting feeling of dirt that had accumulated on his skin.

'You are disgusting,' he growled. Vile didn't respond, so clearly, he was sulking. Fair enough; at least he'd shut up. Walking into the bathroom, he turned on the cold tap at the sink and rinsed his face off, ridding himself of the uncomfortable feeling of filth. After doing the same with his arms, he turned the taps off, rested his hands on the rim of the basin and stared at his reflection in the mirror, noting how his condition had visibly improved. His face had filled out, his skin didn't look like paper any more, and there was actual muscle on his arms now.

He didn't notice the heat that had pooled between his legs until it began fading away. Scowling down at himself, he fought the urge to gag. Vile had issues.

Skulduggery waited a short while before exiting the bathroom and crawling beneath the covers with Erskine. The younger mage had started twitching and muttering fretfully in his sleep, but when Skulduggery wrapped an arm around him and gently massaged his shoulders with his free hand, he calmed down.

"Sorry about him," Skulduggery whispered softly. "He won't get out again, I promise."

'Selfish skeleton,' Vile grumbled. 'I loved him first.'

'Do yourself a favour and shut up,' Skulduggery growled back. 'Maybe if you'd taken care not to provoke an attack, then I would've let you stay out a little longer.'

'I wanna hold him!' Vile complained. 'He's nice to hug!'

Skulduggery ignored the whinging Necromancer in his head as the psycho carried on whining like a spoiled child, instead curling himself around Erskine's sleeping form. It vaguely occurred to him that they were in fact spooning, and as he slowly succumbed to the warm haze of sleep, he allowed himself to take comfort in the fact that Erskine was so readily returning his affections.

It felt good to love someone again.

Erskine didn't find it at all strange that he was lying in the warm, protective arms of a werewolf, beneath a tree with a full moon glowing brightly above them. The proud creature had thick, dark blond fur that was slightly mussed up and the most enchanting amethyst coloured eyes that were shaped like almonds.

Huffing softly, Skulduggery leaned forward and nuzzled him lovingly. His warm, musky scent overwhelmed Erskine, and he sighed happily. A soft breeze blew in the tranquil air, ruffling Skulduggery's pelt slightly.

Suddenly, the lycanthrope started growling threateningly. Following his gaze, Erskine caught sight of a dark, lean shape skulking through the shadows that surrounded them. He managed to discern a long, lupine face, ragged fur and a rabid look in its eyes.

"What is that?" Erskine asked, getting only a low growl in response. Fear immediately started brimming, and he backed into Skulduggery's chest for protection. Slowly, the creature stalked towards them, prompting Skulduggery to growl even more fiercely.

But as it got closer, Skulduggery seemed to shrink. His growls became weaker, and the look in his eyes became almost plaintive whilst the creature grew bigger and fiercer. By the time it was little more than a few feet away, Erskine's werewolf lover had been reduced to half his size and was barely able to hold his ground against the approaching beast.

"What do you want?" Erskine asked quietly, resting a hand on Skulduggery's head protectively.

The creature just stared at him silently, violet eyes gleaming with want. Erskine noticed how those eyes appeared to be almond shaped, and its head was shaped a lot like Skulduggery's, with a long, scraggy mane that was only a slightly darker shade of blond than the other wolf's.

"You're the beast, aren't you?" Erskine said, recalling what Skulduggery had said about the beast inside him. "The… the one Skulduggery talks about."

A low growl sounded in the creature's chest, and it leaned its head down towards Erskine. Skulduggery had gone quiet save for the occasional weak whine.

Carefully, Erskine reached out a hand, surprising both the beast and Skulduggery.

"The fact that you have a dark side doesn't matter," he said quietly. "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be accepting that. And it would be rather hypocritical, too, when you think of what I've done."

Whining in confusion, Skulduggery pressed into Erskine's back anxiously. The beast came closer, eventually lying down beside them both. Skulduggery snarled threateningly, but a small 'hush' from Erskine quieted him. Grinning, Skulduggery's dark side eagerly rested his head on Erskine's lap, growling happily.

"I love all of you. Remember that."