FicWad

Title - Lick
Warnings - borderline NCS, leaning more toward the NCS side there cough, Dietrich/Leon
Disclaimers - I do not own any aspect of Trinity Blood, nor do I make a claim to. No profit, no harm done.

Contempt was something easily recognizable no matter whose face it was on. Leon's lips pulled down in a grimace, his eyes narrowing to acknowledge he did understand the expression, and that he wasn't about to retreat. Even though staying practically assured his own death. No one was to take on the so called Puppet Master without the backup of Abel. Although Abel himself had admitted as to the dubious advantage that would bring with someone of Dietrich's repute.

"Of all the assassins in the Vatican, they send their weakest to combat me?" Dietrich growled.

The streets were devoid of life in the late hours when even the hardiest of night owls chose not to be out. In one hand, Leon carried a bottle of wine wrapped in a paper bag by its neck that he hadn't cracked open; had, in fact, intended to finish off the first and pick up another one closer to the little hotel where he and Abel had been camped out in. Instead, he managed to cross the path of a man known only as Dietrich. Rumblings and sketchy information called him the 'Puppet Master', and he'd been credited with the ability to manipulate human and vampire alike.

"Weakest?" Leon returned, sidestepping to the lip of the closest alley. "Is that what you think of me?" Just as well, he thought. It gave him a slight advantage if he was perceived as weak.

Dietrich's hands rose before him, the stark white gloves little more than bright hues in the dark. Wary, Leon took a step back, stopped short when the vampire's hands drew up, fingers pointing downward. His entire body tingled and he could feel pressure on certain spots of his flesh where it felt as though something invisible had attached to him. Struggling proved little use and he stopped at once.

"You're all weak," Dietrich smiled thinly. His left hand drew up over his right, and Leon's body arched backwards, his feet losing contact with the ground until he hovered in the air. The bottle of wine fell with a hard thump, though it didn't break. The right hand turned around, palm toward Leon and shoved against the air in a swift movement. Immediately, Leon found himself tumbling backwards, thudding against the building wall. Pressure seemed to strike every plane of his body and he groaned as the ache in his joints intensified with each step closer Dietrich went. Both hands dropped, and so did Leon's body.

His knees hit first with shots of pain bright enough that he couldn't hold back a brief cry before the rest of him fell forward bonelessly. The paper bag with the bottle still in it loomed in his vision, sparing him all of a split second to close his eyes before his chin struck the side of it. That time the bottle did crack, spilling wine from the lip of the bag that his cheek slapped wetly against when the rebound let gravity take over. His muscles still felt like jelly, though he didn't try moving immediately. Opening his eyes gave him a sense of vertigo at seeing everything sideways when he'd been upright mere moments before, yet he orientated himself rather quickly. Swift, but not fast enough to notice Dietrich standing over him. A short kick through the growing puddle of spilled liquid and the bottle struck Leon's forehead, spinning away lazily to thump against his shoulder.

"Without that little trick, you're really nothing, are you?" Leon challenged. Keeping his tongue was never his forte; even Abel had mentioned it'd end up getting him killed one of these days.

"And what are you right now, Terran? You were always nothing."

The tip of Dietrich's boot struck him in the mouth, sending a bright burst of pain over it. He snarled, trying to roll away, but the vampire hadn't released him just yet. A moment later, he tasted the wine sent up from the boot's arc and spat it out.

"It would seem a shame to let good wine go to waste," Dietrich chuckled, regarding the liquid on his boot.

"You're the fool who wasted it," Leon reminded between gritted teeth. Blood and wine mingled in his mouth, its taste stinging and sweet at the same time.

Dietrich picked up the bag, pulling the bottle out. Wine splashed on the ground, peppering his captive's face, and forcing the man to close his eyes. The bottom half of the bottle remained intact and a good amount of wine was left in it. He poured a bit on the top of his boots and shoved it closer to the assassin's mouth.

"Have a drink," he commanded.

"Fuck off," Leon growled. Pain struck his head, the feeling that his skull was being crushed pinched his face into an agonized grimace. It let up and he heard the command again. Intel, he reminded himself sternly. If nothing else, Dietrich would have his fun and he'd have valuable information for when Abel had to face him. His lips tightened and his eyes closed to slits, but he obediently craned his head up enough to lick some of the liquid off the boot in front of him.

The surface was rough against his tongue. Even the wine couldn't mask the overpowering stench of wet leather and the sweeter pungency of the liquid coating it. When most of it was cleaned off, he let his head fall back to the ground, waiting.

"I think you can do better than that," the vampire insisted. His hands moved deftly, drawing up the Leon's body to kneel in front of him. A quick twist and both hands were thrust behind the man's back. A small grunt issued from his captive who managed to look up at Dietrich under his own power. Dietrich smiled at the disgusted look. With one hand, he held the man in place while the other let more wine splash to the tops of his boots.

The command hadn't been issued, and Leon debated doing a damn thing. He hated being pinned down like some little bug for Dietrich's amusement, though he was quite certain that defiance was something the creature looked forward simply to inflict greater harm. It would be the lesser of the two evils to continue being so submissive if it meant eventual release. Shifting forward as much as he was allowed, he descended once more to lap up the wine, the deep rumbling of hatred wrapped in his belly enough that he nearly vomited what little he had already taken in.

Wine poured down once more, hitting the back of his head to dribble through his thick bangs onto the boot tops. He cursed the bottle for not shattering when it fell, and himself for being so careless as to not notice Dietrich before he had been practically on top of him. His tongue felt numb and sore at the same time. The tastes of leather and wine had melded into a dark elixir that assailed his senses with its scent as much as flavor.

Soon enough, the feel of wine being poured on him from time to time ended and Leon realized he'd kept licking long after it was gone. He growled, trying to pull away and succeeded in only having his head forced against the ground, his chin scraping painfully upon contact.

"And you were doing so well," Dietrich sighed. He threw the bottle and it shattered against the brick immediately, sending shards across the sidewalk in a musical chime of glass. His hands moved once more until Leon was on his knees. Moving closer, he looked down at the wine streaked face, at an expression that promised pain should the owner be presented the chance of inflicting it.

"I'm sure there are other things you do very well on your knees, hm?" One hand went to the buckle at his pants and the thin smile broadened at the repulsed expression that stretched the man's face. It smoothed out almost immediately to something smug and quite fitting on the assassin's face.

"Sure, I can do a lot of things well in this position. You want to find out?"

Dietrich's body turned as he drew his hands to the side, whipping back toward his captive with a short, but powerful arc. Leon's body was jerked toward him, turned and sent against the brick wall with enough force that was almost too hard. Leon chuckled, the noise assuaged any question that too much damage had been sustained. Dietrich walked to him, one hand holding the invisible strings he controlled while the other curled over Leon's chin to touch fingertips against lips that had been split on impact.

"Don't think of me as so naïve as to not know the extent of my own power. Your body may be mine, but this-" he stroked Leon's mouth before pulling away "-is still yours. Can't have a pet of mine biting what it shouldn't now, can we?"

Pet? Dread hit the pit of Leon's gut harder than his body had the wall. His arms rose of their own accord splayed out while his legs parted as a knee forced its way between his thighs. Thin lips nibbled at his earlobe, yet he couldn't pull away from the touch. His teeth clenched together and he could feel spittle and blood leak from one corner.

"If you beg now, I'll send you on your way," Dietrich promised. His hand slipped down, moving over firm ridges of flesh covered by the thin tunic until he reached the slim waist.

Leon grunted at being touched, but there was no escape -- no, there was an escape, just not one he was capable of taking. He begged for no man, let alone this Dietrich. Fingers curled into loose fists, scenarios ran through his head, each dismissed almost as fast as it started to form. There was no escape except to become less than human at the behest of another. Then again, what would he be letting his body become a plaything for a killer who'd just as soon kill him as well?

"I won't beg you for a damn thing," he retorted.

"You will," Dietrich chuckled. "They all do."

What?

Stuck against the wall, Leon didn't - couldn't - resist an iota when a pair of hands reached around to his front and undid his trousers. The wind was cool against his bare flesh and he shivered as the garment was shoved down his legs. His shoes were removed, hitting the ground with a mild thump, followed a moment later by his trousers. Gloved hands roamed up his thighs, sending tremors throughout his muscles. At his waist, they moved away, and he closed his eyes. A few seconds passed and he felt cold fingers dip under his shirt, sharp nails raking up his back before they reversed to tear through the cloth with ease. He growled at having his tunic ripped off his body, but he supposed it was better than his pants enduring the same fate. Returning back to Abel naked really wasn't appealing at all.

The warmth from his body seemed to warm Dietrich's fingers and when they stroked along the plane of his back, he tried to turn a bit, to see what the hell the creature was doing that was taking so long. He met the Dietrich's gaze, knowing full well fear had crept into his expression when he saw his captor sucking on his fingertips. A smile widened Dietrich's mouth, letting a line of spittle drip free when they were removed. He remembered the ease in which his shirt had been torn apart and sucked in his breath when the fingers left his sight and his cheeks were parted easily.

"Don't--" you can't do that! he cut himself off abruptly, waiting for the sensation of being sliced open.

Smooth digits slipped into him, stroking him with care as they slid in deeper. He tried to clench against them, wanting them out, yet he could feel his body respond at the same time.

"Blood may be my compatriot's drink, but surely you don't think me so much a monster as to enjoy it here--" Dietrich plunged his fingers in deep enough to elicit a strangled moan of pleasure "--do you?"

Leon didn't answer. He let his breath out slowly, trying in vain to keep his cock under his firm control, but it was as disobedient as he was, it seemed. He knew he was expected to beg now, to plea for escape now that it was too late. A choice had been offered and he made his decision; there was no going back on that now. Resting his cheek against the wall, he let himself relax while his heart pounded mercilessly in his chest. Wine still dribbled down his forehead giving him the appearance of shedding fermented tears. How appropriate. He felt his legs thrust wider apart and lowered his head. It would be over soon enough.

"You're being quite obedient for an assassin," Dietrich remarked.

Another digit joined the first two. The squelching that emitted was too loud in the night air. Anyone could have come around the corner to see them together and the shame of having anyone see him at Dietrich's mercy stung him more than having his body manipulated at whim. Concentrated more on his own humiliation, he didn't realize right away that the fingers inside him had quit moving. His eyes opened and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"A little too obedient." Dietrich withdrew his fingers, picking up one of the rags that had been part of Leon's shirt to wipe them off. His other hand made a pulling motion, and Leon fell to the ground in a heap.

Naked, Leon shivered with his body's expectation of being fucked. His hands went to his crotch and rubbed slowly, half-wanting to pump himself to completion, half-wanting to soothe its animalistic needs. That's it, he thought wonderingly. He'd bested Dietrich by sheer patience? His legs shook as he gathered himself up, turning to lean against the wall. As much as he wanted to show his own strength, he couldn't help but huddle, his hands returning to his crotch to stroke himself. So close and he wanted now, needed to release.

"Interesting," Dietrich remarked, causing Leon to look up in anger. "Most of your kind would either be running or fighting by now."

Dietrich, Leon noted, had been in the process of setting his pants to rights and he growled. "You have no idea what 'my kind' is."

"Maybe. But I was right not to underestimate you." Rather than with his power, he pushed the assassin to stand upright with one hand, forcing their erections to slide together.

"Fuck," Leon hissed angrily. His hands reached up to push Dietrich away and instead balled the uniform's cloth at his shoulders. His legs parted, his feet left the ground to brace himself against the wall. Regardless of his own movements, he glared back at Dietrich. "I'll kill you," he promised.

"You'll fail," Dietrich whispered tenderly.

"Shut up, just shut up."

Leon wasn't sure what was worse, having his eyes open or shut. Right then, he would have been glad for the streetlights to break if it meant he didn't have to see who fucked him. Lips met at his neck, teeth just under the surface grazed his skin causing him to shudder and moan plaintively. It was someone else, it was Hugue or even Abel - anyone but Dietrich.

No, that wasn't a cock worming its way inside his body; it couldn't be. But Dietrich lacked true warmth, evidenced when he forced his way into Leon's body. Arching widened his legs and it was immediately taken advantage of. His legs wrapped around the slimmer body, his heels taking up residence on Dietrich's

it's not him, it's not him

ass, digging in as he drove himself down to meet the upward thrust. Electric heat enveloped him the moment their bodies struck together that he cried out softly, biting against his lip to keep it from being louder. One hand covered his own face, hiding him away from what he did, what he wanted, what he had to have. The other fisted into Dietrich's hair, curling to keep

your lover, you can say it

the mouth that ghosted close enough to his neck to worry him as though Dietrich possessed the power of a vampire. He could die at any time, yet it didn't matter. This was his now, this sex, the violence that enveloped him and his body. Within a few thrusts, the friction was enough that the cock embedded in him was slick and hot. He couldn't hold back the cry that erupted when he was impaled with enough force that his legs felt as if they were on the verge of dislocating from his hips.

After that, it was nothing more than two bodies fucking the other. Release was the goal, and blood would be drawn to achieve it if need be. At the burst of pain at his shoulder, Leon bit against his lip to keep the cry from becoming more than a loud groan. His cock ached, rubbing against the harsh cloth of Dietrich's uniform, up and down. He felt a hand grip it, pumping it with savage strokes that burned in time with the pummeling into him. Giving up on controlling how he was ridden, Leon cracked his head against the brick wall, trying to shake free of the shame as his seed spurt into Dietrich's hand. The tension of the orgasm melted his strength away in a few short seconds and he was left in the vampire's hold, prisoner between it and the wall. Something warm and cool at the same time filled him with pressure, and Dietrich held him steady against the wall as he caught his own breath.

It seemed even Dietrich could be sated by another lowly Terran.

A parting lick apologized for the harsh bite at his shoulder, but he knew it would bruise. Knew who it was who had marked him, fucked him, claimed his body. Now, with it over, he dreaded moving at all. Of having to see Dietrich, let alone feel that length slide out of him.

"Poor little Terran," Dietrich whispered tenderly as he pulled out. Like he was somehow above his own kind.

Leon's eyes were screwed tightly shut. At the invasion of the voice, he gasped as reality caught up to him. Furious, he drew back to lash out at Dietrich and felt nothing around him. He fell to the cold sidewalk, eyes darting around to find himself alone. A cool wind dried the sweat on his flesh and reminded him of what had happened. Not that he couldn't have figured that out from the seed stuck to his belly and leaking down between his thighs. Nearby, his trousers shifted, an anchor to a reality he preferred to cling to right then. Getting up, he trudged his way the short distance, wincing at the pain that came from doing so. It was going to be a long walk back, and him without wine to get rid of that phantom taste of sex that plagued his mouth.

It didn't happen.

He got into a fight at some bar - never mind which one. Yes, that's all it was, Leon assured himself as he slowly made his way back to the hotel. Now that he thought of it, he did feel a little drunk.

just because it comes from the mind of a wacko, doesn't necessarily mean it's insane