Many of the things Vanitas said made him angry.
Some of the things Vanitas said made him feel indifferent.
However, there was only one thing Vanitas would say to him that stopped him in his tracks and sent shivers down his spine.
He wasn't one to say "I love you," and Ventus wasn't so sure he wanted him to. Instead, he'd show up at an ungodly hour in the night, and steal his breath with a rough, deprived kiss, and whisper...
"You're mine."
And he'd melt, putty in his hands. Vanitas never touched him, not at first. The first few times he visited, he was content to sit on Ventus' bed, while Ventus sat on the floor, on his knees and completely naked. He told Ventus in his deep, sultry voice, to touch himself, and would lick his lips as Ventus obeyed, hands shaking. His eyes sparkled in the dim lighting, burning honey irises enough to send him over the edge, gasping for breath.
And he was gone.
"Come here."
He patted his leg like he was beckoning a dog, and Ventus almost stayed put. Though, when he saw Vanitas didn't have a mocking smirk on his face, he found himself standing and drawing near. "You're doing it wrong," he chuckled as Ventus sat on his lap. He pressed him to his chest, and left one hand playing with his nipple and the other drifting to his-"I'll help you."
He kissed him like it would be their last.
Many of the things that Vanitas did confused him.
Some things that Vanitas did left him breathless.
However, there was only one that Vanitas would do to him that made him claw ugly red marks down his back and sink his teeth into his shoulder.
He had never said "I love you," and Ventus never wanted him to. Instead, he would pull him away from his friends, steal his breath with a gentle, chaste brush of the lips, and whisper...
"I'm yours."
