Log; Complete

[evilbeneath.livejournal.com]

When; 17 August, after this post. [BACKLOG]
Rating; R
Characters; Cain Knightlord [evilbeneath] & Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer [ordenmagier]
Summary; A certain magician has pricked a sore spot in the Crusnik’s temper and it is time to pay the price~
Log;



Cain had been a lot more difficult than usual, with childish, snappy demands for Isaak to do everything for him, from taking off his shoes, getting pills, and generally behaving like an angry, spoilt brat.

Isaak knew that this was a direct result of the poetry he'd posted on the Network, and that the Crusnik was feeling possessive. The nanomachines in him did a good job at emulating human emotion, right down to the jealousy and possessiveness that Cain had been displaying right now. It was not like he minded, not really, and Isaak was a picture of calm pleasantry even as he led his master to bed.

It was not over yet. Cain's anger had probably not abated, and Isaak was more than aware of how edgy the Crusnik had been for the past couple of days because of Lilith and Abel, and this was probably the last spark that would ignite his temper.



Though he has technically forgiven the magician, it did not mean that Cain has truly forgiven the man. How dare the other post that poem? At first, the Crusnik had been curious, but as soon as the full meaning of the poetry processed, it had quickly turned into irritation.

Isaak was his.

It was as simple as that. No one else is allowed to touch or hurt the other without Cain wanting them to. The same rule applied to Isaak. The magician is not allowed feel affection or give attention to anyone without his leave. Even Abel is not given an exception.

Even as he settled in for bed, a frown was still seen on Cain’s face as he watched Isaak from the corner of his eyes. The magician was the one person that Cain trusted and if the other had even a one percent chance of betraying him, the Crusnik would not hesitate to dispose of him. The fact that Abel, Lilith and Seth was in the City annoyed him more than he would care to admit.

“Isaak, I want a story.” Cain demanded.



Isaak bowed slightly, noting the frown that was still on the Crusnik's ethereal, beautiful features. Perching on the bed beside him, Isaak murmured, his own voice soothing, smooth. If Mein Herr wanted a story, who was Isaak to deny him that?

"A story of a beautiful concubine of the Emperor of China, perhaps?" He knew he was probably pushing it; Cain was already displeased by what Isaak had done, and although Isaak was inwardly bemused at the reaction he'd brought out of his Lord, he knew the danger he was in if the Crusnik was further provoked. Even so, Isaak had an almost morbid curiosity as to how the Crusnik would react to something like this.



The blond’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Isaak’s words. He had heard enough about China for the day and the other seemed set on trying out his patience for the day. His frown deepening a fraction, Cain glared at the magician. It was rather impossible that the other did not notice his reaction. What was he up to?

Whatever it was, Cain was not about to hear another word of China or Chinese for the day. Enough is enough. There was a reason that the part of the world was long gone and forgotten and the blond could not care less. “Another word of China out of you, Panzermagier, and I will be quite upset.” A thinly veiled threat.



Isaak lowered his head in obeisance, inky strands spilling past his profile even as he murmured. "Forgive me, my Lord. Would you like to hear the story of Troy, then?" It was a story of human greed, and the sheer ridiculousness of their reason for a war, but one could not miss the subtext of star-crossed lovers, either. Of course, Isaak did not intend to highlight that, simply because it was, in itself, most foolish and insignificant. The Trojan horse had been the true source of amusement for the magician.

If the Crusnik had gone so far as to issue him a veiled threat - especially with the use of his codename, Isaak was treading on ground that was markedly more dangerous than usual.



A hand reached out and brushed against Isaak’s cheek gently. As gentle as the Cain tried to be, his sharp nails left a trail of crimson as he pushed back the magician’s hair. “You are testing my patience. I am not sure what you are trying to do, but whatever it is that you have up your sleeves, I do not like it.” The Crusnik drew back his hand and licked the blood off the tips of his fingers.

“One last chance, Isaak~” Cain said in a singsong voice, giving the magician a smile. His hand tugged softly at the man’s hair. The blond was familiar indeed with the story of Troy and how foolish the Trojans were. It was a classic story of trickery and deceit, but it did not escape the Crusnik that the story that preceded the war was Paris and Helen’s story.



The Crusnik's touch had not surprised him as much as he thought he would. Cain's nails were unerringly sharp, breaking Isaak's skin and drawing blood, the faint scent of copper lingering in the air even as the magician did not flinch. The pain was almost muted, and welcomed even as he stopped himself from reacting to it and drawing closer.

Dark eyes trailed to Cain's tongue as Isaak watched him lick off the blood - his blood - an action he found almost erotic. He did not miss the Crusnik's fingers in his hair, long and elegant and deadly, and Isaak knew that if he treaded wrongly this time, those fingers would dig into his skin without mercy. Even then, he looked back at Cain, his gaze humble, almost bemused. "What will you have me say then, my Lord?"



Cain tilted his head to a side, as if he was giving serious thought at the question that Isaak raised. It only lasted for several moments before the blond moved closer, his face mere inches away from Isaak’s own, blue met onyx. “Tell me your reasons for pricking my temper, tell me why you insist on choosing those two stories,” Cain whispered, taking a lick at the wound on his cheek.

He drew back a little, until their gaze met again. “… tell me what you would do for me.” It did not matter to Cain whether it what the other said was lies. All that matters was that Isaak remained loyal, remained by his side. It was still too soon, too naïve to think that he alone could overpower the others. He may have enough power, but sadly, his physical body is still too fragile to wield such power.



Isaak didn't flinch when Cain drew close, and met his eyes squarely, not pulling away. He was more than aware that the blonde would not kill him, not when he needed him so, but it didn't mean that hurting was automatically out of the equation, either. He didn't mind that very much, either, to tell the truth.

Briefly, he wondered if Cain knew how sensual and predatory he was being, his eyelids fluttering slightly when he felt Cain's tongue on the small wound on his cheek. Before the night was over, the Magician knew that he would sustain more - Contra Mundi's anger was not easily abated. Reaching out, gloved fingers moved to wipe away the tiniest of smudges from Cain's lips, faint red staining the pristine white fabric even as he murmured, his tone low and smooth. "I merely wish to alleviate your anger, my Lord." A deliberate pause, then he quietly spoke, meeting his eyes steadily. No games, not now. This was not Dietrich that Isaak was speaking to. "There is nothing that I'm not willing to do for you."



The words did little to calm Cain down though he accepted them without a word. It took a lot to rile the Crusnik up but the past few weeks of having Abel, Lilith and now Seth in the City has taken its toll. Their presence affected him more than he cared to admit, especially Lilith’s and her recent revelation. It would not be hard to crush her again, but the City was a new battlefield with its’ own set of peculiar rules and quirks and Cain did not care to show his true nature here. He could afford to let Lilith do as she pleases as long as she did not get in his way. Anyway, her presence served to taunt and remind his beloved twin of what he could not have.

The blond watched with faint amusement as Isaak wiped the blood away the last traces of blood from his lips. “For example?” His tone turned playful, his smile returning. It did not necessarily mean that his annoyance has alleviated any. The Crusnik’s expression did not necessarily follow his moods.



Did he want to hear poetry? Sonnets? Isaak knew where that question was coming from, knew that Contra Mundi was testing him and the extent of his loyalty. The Magician, of course, was not in a position to deny him. Watching the smile curve on deceptively soft lips, Isaak knew that Cain wasn't properly pleased yet. His expressions were irrelevant; only the words, and the underlying meaning in them was.

"The greatest thing one person can offer another, my Lord. Themselves." Isaak was taking a gamble here, but it was a simple one, and one that he knew would not backfire on him. Cain needed him too much to do anything lasting, and if this would alleviate his anger; he didn't see why not. Besides, Isaak always had been curious to see how far Cain would take this, if he would step over the already blurred line between servant and master, especially in private. This was not the first time Isaak had been intimate with Cain, and he knew that it probably would not be the last time, either.



The magician said the words that Cain wanted to hear, expecting to hear. Any other answer would be unacceptable. The blond leaned forward, “Pretty, pretty words, but you always had had a way with them.” He placed his arms around Isaak’s neck in an embrace and pulled the other closer. The smile unchanging, Cain pressed his lips softly against Isaak for a fleeting kiss before pulling back with one last lick.

“Proof, Isaak~ Words do not suffice.” His attention was drawn to the Magician’s nape. His hand drew back and his finger traced the exposed area of his neck lazily. Cain was getting sick of the pills he was supposed to take. Though it fulfilled his needs, it hardly satisfied him. He rather missed the coppery, metallic taste of blood.



Indeed, Isaak did, and he moved ever so slightly, leaned forward just a little to respond to the kiss that was over far too quickly. It was with a mildly detached amusement that Isaak thought about how soft the Crusnik's lips were. Cain was far beyond human, was a perfect being of destruction, and yet his mouth was as soft as a lover's.

He did not flinch, even as long, elegant fingers pulled down his collar, dismissing the faintest twinge of apprehension that he would not acknowledge. Feelings were useless; there was no need to fear Cain when he was like this. The other may be childish, but Isaak knew him well enough to know that he was too smart to destroy him. Feeling the cool air against his skin, Isaak's fingers moved up to the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly unbuttoning the first four buttons, revealing pale skin beneath even as he shifted the fabric further, allowing his master access.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing that Isaak would deny 01.



Isaak, Isaak, Isaak~ The magician was a constant in his life ever since they met each other that one fateful day. The man belonged to him in every way as far as Cain was concerned and that was not about to change anytime soon. The fact that Isaak posted that particular poetry has challenged Cain’s sense of ownership… and the Crusnik did not like it at all. It was time to remind the other who exactly is in charge.

At least Isaak still submitted to his authority or Cain would just have to dispose of the other. A pity, but he had no use for someone who did not know their place. He would hate to lose the magician. The other took care of everything for him and it would just be annoying to handle everything on his own.

The magician’s action made his smile grew wider, revealing a canine. Cain pushed the other’s hair behind gently, enjoying the sensation of silk running through his fingers as he did. He drew a finger near the collarbone, watching in fascination as red welled up. The smell intoxicated him, but he could wait, he already had his pills earlier and it was not as if Isaak’s blood would help his hunger any. The Crusnik dipped his finger on wound with his finger and lifted the finger and examined it curiously, as if he was wondering what the red smudge was. Giving Isaak a beatific smile, Cain daubed the blood on his finger on the magician’s lips.



Isaak barely reacted to the sting - compared to all other injuries he'd sustained in the past, this particular cut was considered something close to mild pleasure, even as his eyes became half-lidded. Cain's closeness was almost intoxicating, and the sensual moment had not gone past him. The Crusnik was playing, toying with him, and Isaak would gladly participate.

Watching his curiosity, studying it and filing it away for further analysis, Isaak smiled very faintly in return to the exquisite smile he'd received from cain, the sight of his own blood on the other's finger serving as one that fascinated him.

Feeling the finger press against his lips, Isaak tasted the drop of blood, and parted his lips further, drawing the tip of his finger in, then a little more, even as his tongue slid sensuously against the pad of his finger, cleaning it off thoroughly, never looking away from him.



The smile turned lazy as he watched the magician licked the blood off his finger, his eyes seemingly urging for Cain to continue on. A game then? The blond considered many things as games to pass his time. This was just another. Though it is a game acquired recently, the Crusnik already grasped the basics of it. After all, Isaak is an excellent teacher and Cain is an apt pupil.

He used his free hand to cup the other side of Isaak’s face and leaned closer until their foreheads were touching and Cain could feel the other’s breath mingling with his own. “You are mine and mine alone,” he whispered, his eyes never breaking contact with the other as he slipped his finger out and pressed his lips gently against Isaak again.



Meeting Cain's lips once more, Isaak did not refute the claim. There was no use for denials, not when the Magician knew what Cain was doing. The other was most likely insecure, and such insecurities required an outlet, of course. In the privacy of their chambers, there was nothing to hide - save for what both mutually witheld from each other - and Isaak moved forward willingly, parting his lips and deepening the kiss. This was a game they had played with each other enough times to know not to be reserved. Contra Mundi's interest in a mere, pliant toy was only momentary.

A hand already moving to lay against Cain's chest, Isaak was more than aware of the Crusnik's tendencies to dominate, especially in a mood like this. With that in mind, the Magician shifted from where he was siting on the bed, deepening the kiss and inviting Cain closer, letting him taste more of him. Their dance, of course, was just beginning.



Predator, prey, predator, whom was whom? Does it even matter at this point? The lines were blurred. For all the act that Cain put up, the Crusnik was anything but the clumsy, absent-minded man he played in front of the others. Only those who are closest to him caught a glimpse of the person behind the mask every now and then. Isaak knew him the best, knew almost everything there is to know about the Crusnik. For a game to hold his interest, both players must at least be equal to each other.

Feeling the touch on his chest, Cain’s hand slipped down the other’s waist and he drew closer, sealing the last bit of space between the both of them. The blond’s kiss grew more insistent as he nibbled and sucked at Isaak’s bottom lip.



Yielding, inviting, Isaak slipped an arm around the Crusnik's neck in response, feeling the other's warm touch around him. As fabric brushed over Cain's bare, naked skin, the Magician leaned back easily, pulling his master down with him. He was used to this, and there was a secret satisfaction in knowing that the only person whom the Crusnik would use for this was the Panzermagier. Isaak was the only toy who possessed this right and privilege, and this was indeed fine with him, even as he lay back against the soft pillows and responded to the kiss and the nips.

Considering Cain's volatile temper, even as Isaak's hand slid down the other's back to rest on the small of it, the other reaching between them to gently cup him, more than aware of 01's erogenous zones, he murmured against the other's lips, tasting the droplets of blood in his mouth. "Shall I remove my gloves, Cain...?"



His breath hitched as the magician’s hand worked its’ magic and he reluctantly gave Isaak’s lips one last nip and a lick as he pulled back, their lips still almost touching. Cain looked down and admired the man below him. His inky black hair contrasted well with the pristine white sheets. It was all about the aesthetics and who knows better than a magician?

It was only during times like this, when they were alone together that the man called the Crusnik by name. “Yes you may~”

Cain turned his attention next to Isaak’s neck, licking at the earlier wound. He looked up at the magician and gave a small smile, as if he was seeking permission though in the blond’s case, it was more of a forewarning. Contra Mundi did not ask for permission. Whatever Cain wanted, he got. The word ‘no’ did not exist in his vocabulary. Giving Isaak’s neck one last lick, the Crusnik opened his mouth and bit down slowly, his sharp canines piercing the thin layer of skin. He smiled as he tasted a familiar metallic tang and closed his lips around the wound, letting the blood fill his mouth.



Contra Mundi's smile was nothing more than an illusion, and Isaak knew that very well. Too well, in fact, which would be something that would explain just why the only reaction Isaak had would be to tilt his head back, feeling the beginnings of lust. The Panzermagier had the body of a man, after all, and no matter how much he tried to modify it, physical pleasures would never truly be erased.

The bite was pleasing; it hurt, but the Magician was well-versed enough in the study of the human body to know that pleasure and pain came from the same receptors in the mind. His arms moving up and behind the other's back, Isaak smelt the copper scent of blood in the air - it was thicker now, more enticing, and Isaak thought that if this was punishment, perhaps he should prick the Crusnik's temper a little more often. A small smirk tugging at his lips, he released a breath that sounded like a soft sigh, before he pulled off the gloves, long elegant fingers trailing down Cain's back, smoothing over the skin and pressing down to bring him closer.



[ooc note; The LJ cut translates to ‘the only safety for the conquered is to hope for no safety’.]