Marilyn Manson decides to get a new boy toy. This happens to be the timid and beautiful Ville. My first Manson fic!! Those who like my My Chem fics will enjoy this (Manson/HIM crossover)
Marilyn Manson lounged on his black satin couch, currently bored with his life. It had been some time since he had absolutely nothing to do. Manson had spent most of his time perfecting his vampirish makeup and making his mansion a dark gothic paradise, but now it was finished. He found the perfect makeup which gave his face a ghostly shade with deep red lucious lips. His mansion was decorated with black satin and silk, painting of lifelike skulls and bleeding hearts. He needed something. It was right at this moment now as he picked at his black nail polish that he pondered the idea of getting another boy toy, as most people would put it. Marilyn Manson had many boy toys over the years, each eventually losing Manson's interest and either given back to the warehouse or given as gifts to friends. Yes, it would be nice to have a lovely thing to be at his beckon call and fill up his time for a while. A new pet was exactly what he needed.
He gracefully stood and went into the parlor room and reached for the old-fashioned telephone to call John 5. He was the one who always chose the most perfect boy toy for him. Manson barely had to wait two seconds before John answered the phone.
"Hello?" John asked into the telephone.
"It's me," Manson replied simply.
"Oh, hey. I'm guessing you need another one. I swear you go through these boys faster than the three prostitution rings put together."
"Yes, I've been quite bored and what's more fun than a boy toy?"
"Well I'll see what I've got. Any specific qualities you want?"
Manson thought this over for a moment. A fighter would surely be fun to tame, but a submissive had it's own fun charm. "A timid one. I rather enjoy a lovely little one who shys away from me. It will make this ever so much fun."
"Well I'm sure we have a couple of those."
"Sounds perfect. I'll come over there tonight; you know I don't like to wait."
"Alright then Manson. I will see you soon at midnight then."
Manson hung up the phone soon afterwards with a smile on this face. In less than six hours he would have a new pet. The thought of all the fun he was to have made his heartbeat quicken. Manson trotted down the hallway to be met with one of his five maids.
"Ah, Clarisse, could you be as so kind as to make up the bed for the room which connects to mine? Someone will be arriving tonight and I wish to be prepared," Manson said kindly to the maid.
"Of course sir. I will see to it immediately" she replied, continuing to head down the hall.
Help like Clarisse was hard to find these days. Manson had gone through countless servants who were unable to handle his lifestyle. The creepy hallways and the sound of boys' screams were hard to adjust to. Thankfully Clarisse was a tough old bird who believed in never prying in her employer's life and diligently sticking to her duties.
Manson arrived outside a dingy looking warehouse where John was waiting for him. Exchanging greetings, John led him inside the warehouse and through a maze of different locked rooms until they reached the basement door. Unlocking the steel door, they went down the stairs until they reached the gigantic underground room which looked like a prison. Inside each cell was a beautiful boy toy waiting for their fate; whether good or evil, they didn't know.
"Pick out whoever you like. This one is on the house. It's the least I can do for my best customer," John 5 told Manson, gesturing him to peruse.
Manson slowly walked around the room, inspecting each boy inside their cage. Some stared at him with fearful eyes while others just shot a angry glance his way. No one really caught his interest until he stopped in front of the cage which held a dark-haired boy. It was the only defining characteristic he could really see. The pale and sickening skinny boy had curled in the corner to sleep, his long hair creating a veil. The paper plastered outside the boy's cage gave some more information to Manson. Apparently the boy was twenty years old with black hair and green eyes. Immediately he knew this was the one he wanted. Happy with his decision, Manson trotted to join John.
"I've decided who I want," Manson said, standing next to him.
"I see you've found your timid boy. He barely ever comes out from his corner," John remarked. "Maybe he'll actually be the first one you keep around. After all, you're getting too old for this."
"I'm only twenty eight thank you. And your little comment reminded me of something, how's that boy I brought back, Henry I believe?"
"Already claimed. Your cast-offs are very popular with my other customers I have to say." Manson chuckled at the comment.
"Well, when can I have the boy?"
"I'll get him dropped off tomorrow at midnight, just as usual."
At exactly midnight the next night Marilyn Manson stood outside his mansion, the moonlight giving an earthly glow to his face. He spotted a dark van in the distant, soon pulling to the stairs where he was standing. A burly man climbed out and handed Manson a contract to sign, stating that the boy was indeed delivered and whatever happened now to the boy was not the company's fault. As soon as Manson handed the form back, two men brought out the boy. He was gagged and his hands and legs were tied. The boy's emerald eyes were full of fear. Manson directed the two men to the bedroom, where they laid the boy on the bed.
"Thank you ever so much," Manson said kindly to the men.
"No problem, just doing our job. Have fun," one man replied with a smirk.
Manson escorted them downstairs, tipping them heavily. Once the van was out of sight, he locked the door and headed up the stairs to the boy's room. Closing the door behind him, Manson went over to the boy and slowly untied him. The boy shifted to a sitting position on the side of the bed while Manson stood directly in front of him. He admired the boy's beauty. He was a dark angel, his pale skin complimenting his long ebony hair offset his mesmerizing eyes.
"Now then pet, what is your name?" Manson asked softly, cupping the boy's chin with his hand so their eyes could meet.
"V..V...Ville," He stuttered softly, trying not to look up at his captor.
"Such a lovely name. You may call me Master and this name only. Do you understand?" Manson replied.
"Yes Master," Ville managed to whisper to him. Manson just looked at him affectionately.
"Good boy. I can see we are going to get along well," Manson purred at him seductively, "Now this will be your room from now on. My bedroom is connected, but by no means are you allowed to come in whenever you please. It's locked anyway. Your food will be delivered by one of the maids. There is a connecting bathroom and a dresser full of clothes. You are free to dress however you wish."
Removing his hand from Ville's chin, Manson exited the room, locking the door from the outside. Ville looked around at his new room. It was pretty bare. The mattress was hard and the sheets were a pretty dark blue, but barely soft. The walls were a plain white color and the floor was made of sleek wood. The only furniture beside the bed was a blue loveseat couch and a small wooden table set. The room was dreary in conclusion. It was a major contrast to the rest of the house. While he was brought upstairs by the men, he had seen that the house was nicely decorated. Passing around the room, he wondered what would happen to him.
Ville curled up on the bed in a fetal position, uncontrollability sobbing. Never had he been so scared in his life. He didn't want to be trapped inside these four walls forever. Slowly his eyes closed and everything turned to black. Well at least a darker black.
During the course of a week Ville got into a routine. In the morning a maid would bring in his breakfast. Then he would dress in whatever clothes he pulled out first; no one was around to judge his outfits anyway. Today he decided to put on some makeup for the first time since his capture. Prepared for the day, Ville sat on his bed doing nothing. He wished there was a television in here, a radio, or even a mad libs book, anything to keep him occupied. Around twelve, or what time he assumed it was, a maid brought him his lunch. The rest of the day was spent in pure boredom until sunset when Master came into the room.
Ville rose to his feet, standing at the foot of his bed. Manson approached Ville with a sweet smile, running his hand along the side of his prisoner's face. Ville closed his eyes for a second, happy for the human contact. Manson pulled him in for a chaste kiss on the lips before resuming his previous position.
"How are you doing pet?" Manson asked Ville, watching as the boy's eyes darted around, nervous and scared.
"I'm fine Master," Ville replied meekly, staring at his feet.
"Ville," was all Manson had to say for Ville to understand what Master wanted. He wanted for him to actually look up at him.
He raised his gaze to meet his master's. Ville had to admit that Master was quite a beautiful man. Not model beautiful, but a kind of beautiful you could stare at all day and never lose interest. "Sorry Master."
Manson smiled at the boy, using his thumb to trace Ville's lips repeatedly while talking. "I must say that you have behaved incredibly well over the past week - no broken furniture, no futile escape ideas, no self harm. For that I must reward you. Now follow me."
Manson removed his hand from Ville's face and gestured for him to follow. They went through the door which connected Ville's room to Manson's. As soon as Ville stepped inside Manson locked the door behind him. Ville observed the room around him. The walls were a dark red with a huge bed taking up most of the room. The bed was covered with black silk sheets. The pillows were arranged at the head of the bed, the ends detailed with delicate lace. It was the exact opposite of his own room.
Manson laid on the bed, his head resting on the pillows. Ville stood awkwardly near the door, not sure what Master wanted him to do. But soon Master gave him a stunning smile.
"Come here beauty. Lay with me," Master called to him.
Ville climbed onto the bed which was incredibly soft. He laid on his side, his back to Master. Master got closer so his stomach was pressed aganist Ville's back and put one arm gently around Ville's waist. He sucked softly on one of Ville's earlobe, feeling the boy's body relax aganist him.
"See all you have to do is behave and you can stay with me. I know you would prefer it to your own room," Manson whispered into Ville's ear, his lips sweeping against Ville's ear, "All of my boys have enjoyed my company, I assure you this. Now sleep precious."
Ville soon fell asleep, comfortable on the soft bed in Master's arms.
*Marilyn Manson's POV*
I watched as his breathing slowed as he went deeper into sleep. I don't why I didn't do it. Fuck him I mean. I have wanted to since I first laid eyes on him. It was just that he was so innocent. I just wanted to be with him for a while. Maybe this one I wouldn't just fuck senseless. I should probably keep him around for a while.
I wrapped my arm a bit tighter around Ville, pressing my face to his head. His hair had a sweet scent, none like I had ever smelled before. It was nice to fall asleep to this.
AUTHOR: I KNOW SOME THINGS ARE SIMILAR TO MY OTHER FICS, BUT IT IS NOT INTENTIONAL. PLEASE REVIEW