A Piece of Cake
Chapter Five
'Oh, you'd be surprised'
"H-ha... Ah... B-battler..."
Ronove was trapped; pinned between Battler's body and the table. His coat was hanging off his shoulders, his cravat untied, and most of his shirt had been undone by Battler's trembling fingers. His hair was messy- perhaps even more so than Battler's (which certainly was an accomplishment), and his lips were swollen from Battler's not-so-gentle kisses. His breath escaped in short, sharp gasps, as though he were having difficulty breathing- maybe because Battler simply couldn't keep his hands (or his tongue or teeth or mouth) to himself. In short, Ronove looked almost nothing like his usual, composed self; and Battler to pause for a few seconds to revel in the fact he'd done that.
He had.
Ronove was almost completely powerless underneath him- and every kiss, every touch, Battler gave Ronove was enough to make Ronove inhale sharply or moan will ill-disguised need.
Need.
Being in control was... almost dizzying; and the power Battler felt, as he pressed light kisses against Ronove's throat and made the other man squirm, was intoxicating. No wonder Beato wanted everybody to 'glorify her name'- it was addictive.
Kind of like cake- but more delicious…
Urgh.
Did Battler just compare Ronove to cake?
Did he just call Ronove 'delicious'?
"B-b-battler…"
…Whatever.
Noises like that really were 'delicious'- especially coming from Ronove.
"Ihihi~ I didn't realize you were even capable of making noises like that~"
"I-I'm... h-ha..." Ronove gasped again, as Battler pressed his body against his. "I-I'm... capable of… l-lots of things..."
"R-really?" asked Battler. "Like whaaat? Show meee~"
Oh holy hell.
Battler was drawing out his vowel sounds just like Beato- and he was thirsting for control just like Beato- and maybe he was a stone's throw away from laughing like a maniac and feeding people to goats like Beato, too. Wasn't that kind of worrying? Wasn't that-
Wasn't...
Well.
Battler could always worry about his sanity later.
Ronove looked up at Battler under his eyelashes; a strangely sensuous motion that made Battler's legs feel weak, even though it was Ronove pinned against the table and Battler was the one in control.
And then, Ronove smirked.
...That didn't look like the smirk of beaten down, submissive 'furniture'. That looked like a smirk that said 'your attempts to seduce me are amusing and I was kind of playing along with it for a while for my own entertainment, but now I'm going to show you how it's really done.'
Battler wasn't sure how he managed to glean so much information from a simple smirk, and maybe he was being a little paranoid, but he still didn't like that look on Ronove's face.
And then-
"Ow!"
-a gasp of mingled pain and surprise forced itself from Battler's throat, as Ronove grabbed hold of his shirt. Ronove moved at almost inhuman speeds, with almost inhuman strength- which probably wasn't human, considering Ronove was a 'demon'.
Then again, Battler's mind was too fragmented and broken up to really 'think' that much anyway.
More pain.
Another gasp.
And then- and Battler wasn't even sure how it happened- the tables had been turned, and it was no longer Ronove pinned underneath Battler; instead, Ronove had reversed the position, until Battler was trapped between the uncomfortable table (stupid fucking table) and Ronove, with his hands pinned together above his head.
...Well, shit.
"Hey? W-what are you doing?" Battler asked, glaring up at Ronove with a mix of childish anger and not-so-childish lust staining his words. Battler was irritated to note he was stuttering- and he was shaking.
"I'm displaying one of my talents~" Ronove answered. His voice was, in contrast to his previous breathy moans and gasps, rather controlled; even amused.
"What? The talent to really piss me off?"
"Pu ku ku~ That, amongst other things~"
"What other things?"
"Battler... Did you really believe I'd let you do whatever-" Ronove dipped his head, pressing a kiss against the side of Battler's mouth, "-you-" another kiss, "wanted?" And, to punctuate this question more fully, Ronove's lips finally met Battler's in a real kiss; Battler gasping despite himself, allowing Ronove's tongue into his mouth even though he kind of wanted to bite it off because that wasn't how it was meant to be, not at all, Battler should have been pressing against Ronove and making Ronove sigh and, a-and...
Battler gave a small moan when Ronove's mouth drew away from his- and, as much as he hated Beato's butler at that moment, he still (despite the voice in his head shouting at him for being an idiot) wanted to pull their mouths together in a mess of teeth and tongues and spit.
Ronove tasted of strawberry cheesecake.
It was... nice.
"I'm afraid I can't allow you to take advantage of my... kindness... anymore," said Ronove, looking down at Battler with that irritating smirk. "I've already come to the conclusion you're attempting to defy Milday in some manner, a-and-"
Battler's eyes narrowed.
He glared.
"I already told you not to talk about her."
And then Battler- in a sudden display of strength- managed to untangle his hands from Ronove's; taking hold of his shoulders and pushing him over once more so Battler was pressed against Ronove again. Battler didn't try to be gentle or caring- not like he'd been with his few other girlfriends in the past. Not that Ronove was a 'girl'- or even a 'friend', in any semblance of the word, so Battler supposed it didn't really matter. Battler slammed Ronove into the table- and the pained gasp that came from Ronove's mouth only made Battler smirk.
Ronove was a demon. He deserved being pushed around a little.
"S-so... Is this defiance or escapism?" asked Ronove, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he looked up at Battler's eyes.
"What're you talking about?" asked Battler, frowning. Why did Ronove have to talk so much- even now? Did he want to engage in a deep psychological discussion? "It is what it is."
"Ah, forgive me. I should have phrased that more eloquently."
"Yeah~" Battler said, a small smirk tugging at his lips, as his fingers threaded between Ronove's. "You should've done."
Battler began to take off Ronove's gloves- frowning at how difficult it was; how awkward. But Battler hated those gloves; they made everything feel so impersonal; so clinical... Battler wanted to be touched by Ronove's fingers, without any barriers; n-not that he really cared, of course. Because Battler didn't care.
It was just as another 'experiment'...
Or maybe…
Maybe the desire to be touched stemmed from the latent romanticist hidden in Battler. The side of his character that gave everything- even confusing, complex, unfathomable things- so much more meaning than they should've had; because trying to attribute 'meaning' to what he was doing with Ronove was a sure-fire way to get a headache.
"B-battler, what are you...?"
"Shhh."
Battler (finally) managed to work one of the gloves off Ronove's fingers (stupid glove. Who was laughing now? …Well, Battler wasn't laughing, because laughing at inanimate objects was insane… But he'd 'won'). Battler threw the glove aside uncaringly.
Battler looked at Ronove's fingers; long and pale, and elegant. Battler would've likened them to a pianists'- but Battler had never made a habit of comparing people's fingers (he might have been turning insane, but he wasn't that insane) and he couldn't really make such unfounded claims. Even so, Ronove's fingers were unfairly 'pretty', just like every other inch of Ronove; and Battler had to wonder whether his fingers were sensitive because he wore those gloves all the time. Taking off Ronove's gloves had (somehow) been more intimate than unbuttoning Ronove's shirt; and the way Ronove's face flushed gently made Battler smile.
Not a smirk.
A real smile.
This… was getting rather too sappy for Battler's liking- but, even though he'd realized it, he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop looking at Ronove, coiling their fingers watching; watching as Beato's butler sighed underneath him in something akin to pleasure.
It wasn't all that different from being with a girl. Not really.
Besides, Ronove's hair was certainly girl-ish enough; smooth, curling about his face and soft to touch.
Then- on a sudden whim he could hardly explain- Battler's fingers tightened round Ronove's. He smirked.
Then-
"B-battler…?"
-he drew one of Ronove's exposed fingers into his mouth.
"H-ha... T-that's... a strange fetish..." Ronove said, laughing softly as Battler bit down on one of his fingers.
Battler took Ronove's finger out of his mouth, watching with a perverse kind of curiosity at the thread of saliva that connected them together. 'Connected', huh…?
Stop trying to find meanings in stupid things you idiot, Battler's brain chastised him.
"Well, you always seem to wear your gloves..." Battler said, trying to explain something that was quite inexplicable. "I... I dunno, I-"
"T-that's alright. That was... Strangely... sentimental?"
Battler's face flushed red at this- and, in childish retaliation (Battler knew he was a helpless 'romantic', but he didn't want Ronove to know. Jessica teased him about it every chance she got, and she was his cousin. Jessica wasn't an evil deity that existed to make his life miserable- not like Ronove- and she still found Battler's softer side hilarious), Battler bit down on Ronove's neck.
"M'not sentimental about you," Battler muttered against Ronove's neck, "y'fucking weirdo."
"Aha... Of course not. My apologies. I was being too hopeful."
"Like you mean it when you apologize. Demon, remember?"
"Pu ku ku~ That's true... At any rate- I was wondering if you were attempting to defy Milady by... seducing her furniture… And doing... a-a rather good job at it... H-ha…"
"Thank you~" said Battler mischievously, biting down on Ronove's neck again- before drawing away to look into Ronove's eyes.
"You're welcome. Or, alternatively; are you trying to forget about Milady and her game by doing this? Or, perhaps, is it a mix of both?" asked Ronove- looking up at Battler with those piercing blue eyes.
Battler only laughed, shaking his head. "I'm amazed you're able to have this conversation with me when I bet you're in a bunch of pain," said Battler speculatively. He smiled- slightly more sincere, slightly less cruel, than his previous smirks. "Being pressed against this table like that must hurt like hell."
"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be alright. Even if... it is rather painful. I-if you realize it's painful, then…"
"Guess I'm just a cruel person~"
"I suppose so," said Ronove, smiling. "At least you're honest about it."
"Which is more than can be said for you~"
"T-truthfully… I-if you want to know the truth… Although you've probably figured it out already…" Ronove gave a small laugh, his face flushing light pink- though he didn't avert his eyes from Battler's. "B-being in pain is… the least of my problems r-right now…"
"Oh?" Battler raised a brow. "Really?~"
"Y-you're… m-making it difficult for me… T-t-to say no… S-stop making me want you- it's i-incredibly inconsiderate…"
"Hey~ I'm just following your example~"
Battler smirked at this incredibly (unusually) honest admission from Ronove; and then pressed his hips against Ronove, grinding their erections together in a rush of friction and heat.
"B-battler…"
"Y-yes…?"
"Y-you're avoiding the question..." said Ronove, his words punctuated by gasps.
"'Cause I don't know the answer."
"B-battler-"
"I-it's kinda hard-"
"Y-yes..."
"-to think... r-right now... A-ask me later," said Battler, his voice thick with lust. "Pick another time."
Ronove looked into Battler's eyes. He opened his mouth, as though ready to complain- and then thought better of it.
He smiled.
A real smile.
A smile that made Battler's own heart skip a beat- cheesy as it sounded; because Ronove really was far, far more attractive when he smiled like that; and it was strangely... Endearing.
Even quite handsome.
"'Kay. Whatever you say, Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler."
"Don't draw my name out like Beato does," said Battler, frowning. "That is so not cute."
"I wasn't aware I was cute to begin with?"
"Maybe. But not anymore."
And then Battler pressed his lips against Ronove's again in a softer, far more 'sentimental' kiss then he would ever have admitted to.
Beelzebub was hungry.
That statement may have shocked people who didn't know Beelzebub very well. After all, she was so very skinny, it didn't seem impossible to assume Beelzebub was the type of girl who managed to survive from day to day on bits of lettuce and vegetation- kind of like a blonde-haired rabbit.
However, if you'd spent more than two seconds in Beelzebub's company, you'd soon learn those previous assumptions weren't true.
Beelzebub was always hungry.
Always.
Her stomach was like a black hole.
Saying 'Beelzebub was hungry' was a little like saying 'the Earth is round' or 'the sky is blue'- because it was just common knowledge. It would be ridiculous to believe anything otherwise. Beelzebub, despite her slender figure, was constantly hungry; much like the Earth was constantly spherical. If Beelzebub's metabolism worked in accordance to 'normal people' laws, and not inexplicably-attractive-at-all-times-even-whilst-eating-your-body-weight-in-cake meta world terms, Beelzebub probably would've been as round as a planet, too.
Truly, she was the envy of all girls everywhere- and Beelzebub didn't even seem to care.
"It's not fairrrr!" Beelzebub whined, tugging at one of her curly, girlish pigtails in distress.
"What's not fair?" asked Mammon. "Is there a world shortage of creme puffs or strawberry daifuku?"
Beelzebub pouted. "Don't even joke about stuff like that! If that happened, I'd die! I'd really truly die!"
"And wouldn't that be a pity."
"Urghh. You're so mean! You're horrible! A monster!"
"Yeup," said Mammon, popping the 'p' as though it were chewing gum. She smirked. "That kind of comes with being furniture to the 'Great Witch, Beatrice'."
"Well, I knowww we're meant to be evil," said Beelzebub, rolling her eyes. "But you don't have to be such a mean bitch about it."
"And you don't have to be such a brat, but you are."
"Kyah!" Beelzebub squealed, as though she'd been pricked with a pin. Then- determination blazing in her eyes- she dived forwards; her fingers trying to tickle every inch of her 'beloved' big sister's flesh she could reach at (which, given the nature of the stakes' uniforms, was quite a lot). "Take it back! Take it back take it back!"
"N-never! I-I won't give in to the forces of evil!"
"You are a force of evil!"
"A greater force than you will ever be, o foolish younger sister!"
"I-I'm not foolish!"
"Yea you are!"
"No I'm not!"
"Uh-huh!"
"Nu-uhhh!"
"Yeah way!"
"No way!"
"Bite me!"
"Okay!"
"K-kyahhh!" Mammon gave a loud, undignified yelp, as Beelzebub- true to her words- sunk her teeth into Mammon's arm. Flailing her arms like pinwheels, trying to shake her bitey/bratty little sister off, Mammon squealed. "I-I always knew you were a fat pig, but you can't actually eat ME! I'm not edible!"
Beelzebub wrinkled up her nose and gave a small 'pwehh' sound, as she pulled her teeth out of Mammon's hand. Saliva and teeth marks- rather deep teeth marks- were left marring Mammon's hand; but it was Beelzebub who was left with the look of disgust on her face.
"You taste terrible," said Beelzebub haughtily, flicking a princess curl'd pigtail over one shoulder. With a face like that, one could almost believe she was a princess, and not an improperly dressed air-head who'd just tried to take a bite out of her older sister. "Like, that was grosss. It wasn't even like steak; it was just... eww."
"Well, I'm sorry I don't bathe in sugar or cake or whatever, you creeper."
"I'm not a creeper. I'm..." Beelzebub smiled, stiking a pose. "Adorable!"
"Yeah. Like a skin disease."
Beelzebub pouted. "Don't talk about me like I'm a leper. I'm your sister."
"And some people would argue that's much, much worse," said Mammon, tugging at one of Beelzebub's pigtails. "What do you want, anyway?"
Beezlebub blinked up at her big sister hopefully, her eyes becoming very round and winesome. "Foood~"
"And is that why you tried to eat me?"
"No. I bit you because you're a bitch. Not because I thought you'd taste good," said Beelzebub, sighing. "Silly big sis doesn't know anything. Human blood is sooo Bram Stoker. That's way uncool."
"So, let's get this straight," said Mammon, folding her arms. "You think I'm a bitch-"
"I don't think so. I knowwww so."
"-and yet you want me to do you a favor?" finished Mammon. She snorted- then picked up the magazine she'd been flicking through (featuring 'eye-catching' headlines such as 'you, too, can look like a fate worse than death with _ latest summer styles!'), rolled it up, and bonked Beelzebub over the head with it. "No thanks."
"But big sis, you don't understand!" said Beelzebub, her voice adapating a whiney quality. "I'm staaarving! I'm gonna die!"
"Good. Maybe then the mean IQ level in the meta world won't be dragged down so much."
"It's not fair!" Beelzebub whined; her conversation with Mammon looping back to the beginning again, just like a faulty cassette tape or scratched CD. "I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore! Ronove told me he'd cut off my hair- my BEAUTIFUL hair!- if he caught me stealing any more cookies. B-but it's not my fault! It's HIS fault his cookies are so good and..." At this point, Beelzebub seemed unable to speak. Words had failed her when it came to describing how amazing Ronove's cookies were. Instead, she'd begun to salivate; her fingers clenched into fists at her front.
"You know, normal people don't talk about food like that. It's not healthy," Mammon's voice was deadpan. Then, she smirked. "Wait, don't tell me. 'Cookies' isn't some weird euphamism for 'sex', is it?"
"Eh?" Beelzebub made a face- completely snapped out of her food-induced fantasy. "With Ronove? No way! I mean, there's that mustache for one thing- and besides, he DOESN'T EVEN LIKE CAKE. Isn't that a sin? He's so good at baking and he DOESN'T. LIKE. CAKE."
"You say that like it's on par with kicking puppies."
"It's WORSE!" Beelzebub said, eyes wide, staring so intently into Mammon's face it seemed she was going to burn a hole in her forehead. "Much much worse! That's like, so terrible I can't even put it into words!"
"Well, your vocabulary was never that stellar to begin with."
"Oh yeah, and Ronove's like totally got the hots for Battler or whatever," said Beelzebub. She spoke matter-of-factly, as though it were an after thought. "So yeah. I'd be wasted on Ronove. I need a real man. Like... um..." Beelzebub frowned, tapping her lower lip with one finger as she thought- before, finally, her eyes lit up. "I need a guy like Gohda!"
"...What."
"He's good at cooking and he likes cake! A match made in heaven! ...Hell. Purgatory? Whatever." Beelzebub shrugged. "Don't matter. Anyway~ Mammon!~ Beloved bitchy big sister!" Beelzebub grasped hold of Mammon's hands in hers, leaning in so close to Mammon their noses nearly bumped together. "Please go invade the kitchen and get me something to eat!~ I can't sacrifice my beautiful hair over some sugar cookies- and don't even tell me Ronove was lying and he'd never hurt cute little old me, 'cause he gets oddly serious about his cooking."
"Maybe he's 'serious' about his cooking because you keep eating it all when his back's turned," said Mammon, her eyes narrowing. "Like a plague of locusts. Urgh. Imagine a plauge of Beelzebubs." Mammon made a face, as a very over-exaggerated shiver ran down her spine. "Scaaaary. The world isn't ready for stupidity on such a large scale."
"Shut up," Beelzebub shot back, frowning. "If you love me at all you'll help me, Mammon!"
"Hmn let me think about- no."
"But-"
"Look, my darling baby sister," said Mammon, pulling her hands from Beelzebub's vice-like grip, "I'm not going to help you out."
"Why nottt?"
"Because you fucking bit me."
"Oh yeah~ I forgot about that. Hehehe~"
"And you kept calling me a bitch."
"Aww, c'mon," said Beelzebub, voice winesome. "That's all water under the bridge, riiight?"
"I wonder what it's like having a head that empty," said Mammon, flicking Beelzebub in the forehead. "Don't the pieces of lint and tumbleweed get lonely in there?"
"Oh, fine," said Beelzebub sourly, pushing Mammon away. "I guess you don't want to help me."
"Congratulations. You're a genius."
"And," Beelzebub continued, a rather sly grin quirking her lips, "I guess you won't mind if I go tell Satan it was you who broke the heels of her favorite shoes. Don't you remember what she said what she'd do if she caught the culprit? Something about intestines and a noose? I don't think that's physically possible! But I guess we'll have to wait and see!~ And just think- if only you'd help your adorable lil' sis, you wouldn't have to die in such a painful manner! Tehehehehe! Kyahahaha!~"
At those words, Mammon's face blanched.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Oh, you wouldn't."
"Try me."
Beelzebub smirked.
When it came to food, there was nothing she wouldn't do.
"Hey, I'm sorry to intrude but... but... b-b-but... ..."
Mammon blinked.
Then, she stared.
"...What is happening in here?"
Mammon pinched her cheek and- ouch! Her fingernails were pretty long... But, despite the brief burst of pain in her cheek, the image before her didn't waver.
Oh.
At least she hadn't gone insane.
No- the whole world had instead.
The scene probably would've been funny if it had happened to somebody else. However, when Battler looked up at Mammon with wide eyes- Ronove pinned underneath him, most of his shirt unbuttoned and his lips slightly swollen- it wasn't funny.
It wasn't funny at all.
In fact, it was incredibly, kill-me-right-here embarrassing; just like when little Ange had found those porn magazines under Battler's bed.
Why did these things have to happen to Battler?
Well, said a rather cruel voice at the back of his mind (the voice that sounded disconcertingly like Beato), maybe if you weren't such a despicable human being you wouldn't have so much to be embarrassed about.
At least it was only Mammon who'd found them- not Virgilia or (god forbid) Beatrice.
Wait...
Didn't Battler start that whole thing with Ronove to irritate Beato in the first place? So why did the thought of Beato seeing them in that rather compromising position make Battler's face turn red?
"Hey, Mammon... I-I can explain-"
"Can you?" asked Mammon, smirking. "Can you really?"
…That was a very good question.
And Battler wasn't sure he could.
Fuck.
Why did everything have to be so confusing in the meta world?
a/n: Mammonnnn :D My favorite stake besides Beelzebub and Belphegor :3
Trying to practice my more ~sentimental~ romancy stuff and my humor-ish writing. Urgh. I hope my comedy timing is somewhat decent.
Fffffsh. Somehow everybody seems really OOC here (apart from maybe Beelzebub who I see as being a complete ditzy genius XDD), I try my best to keep these doods somewhat IC but yeah it's difficult doing stuff for this pairing XDD;;
Battler is /so/ difficult to characterize, right. I mean, he's a complete pervert, beato's chew toy, a little bit of a control freak and kind of arrogant, but he also has that mushy overly-romantic side and he's a genuinely nice guy, and it's… difficult… trying to smoosh all that up together when I'm writing XD But I wouldn't like this pairing half as much if the characters were different people with different personalities XDD;;
The 'what is /happening/ in here' a totally a reference to this one episode of 'the Inbetweeners', which is actually a ~hilarious~ show that features high school kids punching fish to death and getting thrown in lakes for being arrogant bastards, but I don't know how popular that show is outside of England (where I live o:) XDD Have any of you guys heard of it? XDD
Actually I am going to go watch right now in between proof reading this X333
~renahhchen xoxoxo