Chapter Text
When they returned to Virgilius’ chambers, Battler ordered his guards to wait outside, and for Gaap to take a break. It was clear that Battler wished for private time with his consort. Virgilius, who was often shy outside of the bedroom, had his face turn a soft pink, accentuating the already-present blush.
“...Well, Battler?” Virgilius asked once they were alone. “What are your orders?”
Battler pressed him down against the canopied bed; the collar of Virgilius’ robes shifted slightly out of place. He drew the curtains close, to reduce the light. The bed he had ordered to be placed in Virgilius’ chambers was one of no lesser quality to that in his own chambers, carved with ornate details and with only the highest quality materials. He refused to give Virgilius anything but perfection, to deny him anything, to make him lesser in any way to anyone but him. If he was at the summit of the world, then Virgilius was merely one step below him. And, of course, Virgilius had no right to refuse.
“Riyu,” he called him, a soft nickname that did not suit the cold emperor’s mouth. He moved to sit beside Virgilius. “Let me undo your hair.” Though the words were sweet, his tone was still frigid. There was too much emotion, too many years of a closed-off heart, for him to ever be the gentle sheepdog he had been in youth.
Virgilius lowered his lashes. Like this, in dim light, he truly did look exactly like a woman. Virgilius could be so handsome beneath his clothes and makeup, and yet still be so effeminate regardless, thanks to his pretty face and hair like silk. It bewitched Battler, drove him to madness, and made him sin over and over solely to keep that beguiling creature within his embrace.
Battler carefully took out every hairpin in his lover’s hair, winding it out of the elaborate style it had been put into. He set the pins aside, noting with delight how every one of them was from him, how Virgilius was so thoroughly marked as his - and then a frisson of hatred went through him as he remembered the man who had ignored those hairpins.
Virgilius’ hair was far longer than Sayo’s had ever been; even in the darkness, he would not mistake him for them now. Sayo had always wanted to grow it out, but over and over, it would be cut short to shame them, to mark them as other, as not worthy of the Ushiromiya blood. Kinzo would tell Sayo that they could be whatever they liked, whether that be man or woman, but Sayo had only shaken their head, unable to be either in reminder full due to their own doubts and confusion and muddled upbringing. Their short hair had just been one more that they were out of place.
Battler brought a lock of hair to his lips, kissing the soft strands. “Do you think I’ll tolerate you letting another man touch you?”
Virgilius froze in fear; however, Battler paid it no mind. What did he care if Virgilius feared him? Who in the world did not fear him, nowadays, with how wild and untameable his heart had become? Rather, he delighted in that fear, and how, despite it, Virgilius wouldn’t give into his fear to act foolishly. He was always so composed, so intellectual, up until…
Battler tugged on his hair, and Virgilius let out a hiss of pain. He kissed that lovely mouth, painted with rouge and altogether too lovely to spoil, and even slid his tongue into it, leaving Virgilius weakly panting against him, muscles slackening. He wound the man’s hair around his fingers, unable to let go, even as his other hand came to rest upon Virgilius’ neck. He only withdrew once he was satisfied he had overwritten the taint of the other man’s kiss, smirking as he stared at Virgilius, who glared at him with sharp eyes.
“You’re so easy to please,” Battler whispered, hand tightening just slightly around the man’s throat. “Did you like it? What he did to you…”
“No,” Virgilius replied quickly, though his voice was strained by the pressure against his throat.
With another lover, he might have teased them, incited their jealousy, whipped up their lust, and made them violently take him. However, Battler was far too easy to rouse to that point. He had no desire to drive Battler to punish him physically, or even to take away his life for a perceived offense. Instead, Virgilius’ aim was to soothe his lover’s doubts, though… he could admit, at least to himself, that he enjoyed this possessive side of Battler just as much as that rare, gentle side he showed him.
At times, Battler would be as fierce as a wolf, ready to devour Virgilius entirely, and at others, Battler would be as gentle as a farmer’s dog nudging sheep back into the herd with gentle yips and loving nips. However, at the moment, the Battler before him was certainly a wolf, with sharp eyes that almost seemed to have a crimson glint to them and hands that were eager to tear Virgilius apart.
Battler chuckled. “Is that so?” He leaned in to whisper into Virgilius’ ear. “Then, you must simply be so lovely that it catches everyone’s eye.”
He shuddered and exhaled shakily. “Who is it that made me so?” he asked, the quiet rumination escaping him at last.
He was forced down onto the bed, robes slipping to expose even more of his chest. Battler loomed above him, expression dark. “You were always this way.” His words were forceful, just as the hand pushing Virgilius down was. “What’s wrong with making everyone acknowledge it?”
“I wasn’t!” It was a stupid outburst, he knew it was ridiculous to talk back to Battler while he was like this, and yet… “You’ve dressed me up like a doll… as if you’re trying to make me just like the women in your inner palace. But what do you think I am? Are you confused as to whether I’m a woman or not, simply because of my face?” He wanted to claw out those cold phoenix eyes. “You’ve seen what’s beneath these robes countless times! Who are you trying to fool?”
Battler was silent for a moment. It was true that he had always forced Virgilius into feminine clothes and presentation, finding it to be to his liking, but… He had never thought it would be better if Virgilius was a woman. He liked the handsome body beneath those clothes, shaped entirely differently from that of the many consorts he had. He enjoyed every part of him, from his fine body hair to his soft muscles to the cock he so often tormented with his hands that it would come early, staining his hands with the unmistakable color and scent of a man’s seed. He would even lewdly lick the substance from his fingers, swallowing the taste of his consort.
“You’re a man,” Battler agreed. He stroked Virgilius’ hair, as if to soothe a cat who had been incessantly meowing. “But I like how you look, blurring those lines. Is there anything on this earth that I can’t have?”
…Perhaps, to make up for how Sayo had never been able to obtain the fluidity they had desired, he was forcing it on Virgilius now. However, regardless of the deeper reasons, he couldn’t deny how Virgilius, clad in women’s dresses and wearing women’s makeup, was so breath-taking that Battler could barely restrain himself at times while in public.
Virgilius’ eyes were dewy; he was on the verge of tears. “No. There is nothing on this earth that the emperor cannot have.”
Just as Battler had closed his heart to everyone, so too was Virgilius closing his heart to Battler. He couldn’t comprehend the man’s words, and so he decided to coldly submit, unable to muster the strength to fire back a sharp retort. At least if he gave into the emperor’s whims, he wouldn’t be harmed. If he treated this as the transactional relationship it was, he wouldn’t have to deal with his heart being crushed.
Battler rose from the bed, not even deigning to look at Virgilius. “...Take off your clothes.”
Virgilius obeyed the emperor’s orders as if he were a puppet; he felt nothing as he removed several layers of fabric from his form. Even now, the person reflected in the mirror, with such a wooden face… wouldn’t be him. There was a power to be claimed in such clothes, he knew: but it was one he felt he did not have. Rather than claiming power, he felt reduced, his true self hidden behind the soft pretty courtesan the emperor wanted to turn him into.
“...Finished,” he called out. He had removed every scrap of fabric and every piece of jewelry from his body, leaving it fully exposed. In the meantime, Battler had moved to sit outside the room, as if granting dignity to a lady who was changing her clothes. It sickened him.
Battler stepped back into Virgilius’ room; he was sitting on the bed, his form half-hidden by darkness. Between his desire to comfort Virgilius, and his selfish need to possess him, to own him, to claim his body, to press him against the sheets… …Battler had reflected on it, and decided that comforting words and soft touches were beyond him. They wouldn’t get through. They would not reach, hollow as they were. Instead, wasn’t it better to show Virgilius how thoroughly he desired him, in a way so violently unmistakable that Virgilius would not presume that Battler held so little affection for him, while also allowing Battler to never have to say the words ‘I love you’ aloud?
While Battler had been waiting, he had disrobed, removing his inner robes as well. He had not wanted to waste time removing clothes from his person when all he wanted was to enjoy his consort’s body. Virgilius stared at the emperor and then averted his eyes. Battler chuckled as he closed the distance between them, and then ran his hand along Virgilius’ thigh before it brushed against the soft cock that lay between.
“Mm -” Virgilius reacted, albeit slightly. He parted his lips, now wiped clean of makeup, and his dark eyelashes fluttered as he looked up at the emperor. “Will the Son of Heaven be making use of His consort?”
Battler’s hand rubbed the tip of his lover’s cock. “Riyu,” he called out, a madman incapable of speaking honestly, “Call me by name.”
Virgilius could only shake his head slightly. For him, trying to put together the emperor who spoke to him gently and kindly with the emperor who roughly used his body and dictated its appearance was impossible. He had no understanding of Battler’s past, nor did he understand how Battler could make him dress in such a manner and still desire him as a man. And yet, he was now reminded of how Battler would touch even this most masculine part of him, even paying special attention to it. How could he reconcile such contradictions? How could he open his heart, which he wished to forever shut?
He squeezed Virgilius’ cock with his hand, eliciting a gasp of pain mixed with a twisted pleasure. In spite of himself, Virgilius could feel blood rushing to his cock, an erection beginning to form. He couldn’t help but experience desire when Battler treated him roughly, like an object meant to be used for the emperor’s pleasure. And yet, he hated seeming so docile, so pliant - and yet, he received pleasure from it.
“Bat… tler…” Against his will, Virgilius called out his name.
Battler rewarded him with a rough kiss, devouring any other sounds that might have come forth from Virgilius’ mouth. One hand stroked Virgilius to hardness, his body aroused in spite of the lack of lubrication and the sting of friction, while the other hand tugged on Virgilius’ hair, seeking out the comforting texture and clinging to it. Battler needed to have this man completely, to take every bit of him for himself, to own him so utterly that nothing but his name would pour from his lips, a broken toy that could only murmur his praise. How dare Virgilius decide to be so taciturn when Battler needed to remind him of his place, of Battler’s complete dominion over him, of the fact that Battler would never allow any other man to touch him? The more he thought over it, the more he could push down his feelings of regret, and instead devote himself to lovemaking.
His lips moved lower, pressing against Virgilius’ neck and then biting down, teeth sinking into soft pale flesh. Copper-tinged blood spilled, trickling down Virgilius’ skin, and Battler lapped it up. Even this would not be allowed to escape him; even Virgilius’ blood belonged to him. Virgilius could only tremble and accept the pain alongside the pleasure, the two mingling together - yet another impossible contradiction he could not resolve.
“My Riyu,” Battler murmured, reverence subsumed into tender violence. “Aren’t you handsome? Do you not think you are? Do you think that I would choose someone I need to cover in fabric to hide their ugliness?”
He kissed lower: past his collarbone, down his chest. He rolled one nipple around on his tongue, even deigning to suck on it. It wasn’t as sensitive as a woman’s, but Virgilius still cried out softly, body ever-responsive to his master’s touch. As Battler’s teeth grazed his nipple, his cock twitched in his hand. He could act coldly as he wished, but in the end his body was too honest for him to deceive Battler.
“...Then, do you love me as a man, or as a woman?” Virgilius could only ask Battler that. “I don’t understand what it is you want from me…” For him to be something he was not, or for him to be as he was, and yet to change him regardless… He couldn’t make sense of it.
Battler laughed. He was a wild dog who had swallowed his master whole long ago, and had no one left to tame him but this man. “You’re a man. I understand that. But let me dress you up as I please, hm?” He stopped what he was doing, instead spreading Virgilius’ legs open. “Don’t question me again.” A warning given in a low voice to keep the man from prying further.
He stepped away from the bed for a moment to retrieve lube; he didn’t want to fuck Virgilius raw today. He had to reassert that Virgilius felt the most pleasure with him, that he was the only one who could grant Virgilius happiness. Even if he knew it was a lie, and that he was trapping Virgilius with a monster like him rather than allowing him freedom, he needed Virgilius to at least half-heartedly believe it, so that he would never attempt to flee. He could never permit such disloyalty. He could never allow Virgilius to do what Sayo had done.
With the container set down on the bed, Battler could resume. Virgilius had waited for him, lying limp like an abandoned toy. Battler dipped his finger in the small pot and pressed a finger against Virgilius’ asshole, chuckling as the other man’s muscles tensed. He didn't hesitate to slide his finger inside. Every part of Virgilius was intended for his use; he had no reason to hold himself back out of consideration for the other person.
If Battler wanted Virgilius to feel pleasure, he would. If he wanted Virgilius to feel pain, he would. If he wanted to fuck his consort solely for his own satisfaction, rough enough for the other man to scream, then Virgilius had no other recourse than to accept. That was how their relationship was. It was different from his innocent dalliances, from before Battler had ever felt the warmth of blood on his hands. Everyone now needed to obey and serve him, the world ripe for the taking. It was a dizzying amount of power he did not want and yet used for his own benefit regardless. He had no other choice - for how could a human be an emperor? Was a monster not what the people truly wanted?
Virgilius let out a quiet gasp, but didn't resist as Battler slid a second finger into him. He moved the fingers around, taking the time to appreciate how every movement made Virgilius' breaths heavier, his body growing more and more receptive to his lover’s touch. His cock began to stir, no longer flaccid and ignorant of Battler's intentions.
Battler's own cock was becoming erect as well: how could he not react to Virgilius, when he was so tempting? How could he not want to take him, regardless of preparation, regardless of his desire to make the man boneless with bliss? That selfish, filthy desire was why he was unable to act as a human. He could only be the cruel, dominating emperor who violated Virgilius night after night, taking pleasure from his body and clothing it in whatever he felt suited him. He truly was callously treating Virgilius as a toy. No matter how pleasurable their lovemaking, no matter the amount of jewelry and clothes and fine goods, Virgilius was a kept thing, not a person.
He added a third finger. Virgilius whined softly, but then bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't bear it when Battler was this gentle; when he was shown this much consideration. It was too much for him to be prepared as though the emperor cared about his pleasure beyond his own personal enjoyment of how Virgilius would react. He had been fucked raw and without preparation before, to the point of pain so terrible that it had ached for days. At the time, Battler had laughed, delighting in how Virgilius had whimpered beneath him. Virgilius hadn't even begged for him to stop: he had fallen into a haze, unable to think or to feel. It had been blissful oblivion. Such was the extent to which he had become nothing more than an object for the emperor, and yet he couldn’t help but long for more when the emperor deigned to be so gentle, to roleplay lovers with him.
“Battler…” Virgilius called his name out; he was unsure of what to say, but his traitorous mouth did not wish to stay silent.
Battler’s fingers did not cease, but his lips curved upwards into a satisfied smile. “Yes, that’s my name. Just as you are my consort, Riyu…”
Virgilius shuddered with anticipation, with longing, with all of the suppressed emotions he could not voice and yet could not help but voice. He wanted to be more than a consort for the emperor, an unwilling ‘wife’, a pretty bauble for the man’s pleasures. However, wasn’t this more than enough? Wasn’t this all he deserved?
Before, he had thought that he would work hard to climb through the administrative ranks. He would gain power and knowledge, and, eventually, he would be able to advise the emperor. He would help create laws to better the country, and he would be able to protect his sister from the fate of a young unmarried lady. If he’d had his way, she would have been able to live with him for as long as she’d liked, with no need to marry anyone. After all, her first engagement had gone so horribly wrong that their own parents treated her like a stain on the family name, though it had been her prospective husband’s unfaithfulness, not her own, that had resulted in the broken engagement. He never wanted to put his sister through that again, and she seemed to have no interest in love nowadays, either. It was simply too easy to be hurt.
Virgilus felt the same: it was simply too easy to be hurt by love, to be burned, to have his heart charred by the flames of such passionate longing that he could not bear it. It escaped his throat in hot, dry pants, muscles tensing as Battler prepared his body for their coupling. He wanted so much more than this; he wanted more than this illusion of his desires, of sweet and gentle love. And so, he tried and failed, over and over, to close his heart that could never be fully shut to the heat of Battler’s intense affections.
Battler dipped a finger into the lube and brought it to the tip of Virgilius’ cock, slowly running it down the tip and shaft, stopping at the base. Virgilius trembled; he despised the reminder of how he was rendered helpless beneath the emperor's touch alone, not by any imperial command or torture. Even just this was enough to unmake him, to stain his thoughts with enough desire that he could not produce logical, clinical thought.
The emperor chuckled; it was not a sound of light merriment, but dark satisfaction. “It’s so pitiful, isn’t it?” he remarked, squeezing his lover’s cock gently. “This little thing that only leaks and twitches for me…” As he spoke, Virgilius’ cock twitched in his hand, as though agreeing with Battler’s assessment.
Rather than wholly despising this treatment, rather than rejecting it and its indignity with his entire being… there was a part of Virgilius that delighted in it. There was a part of him that enjoyed when Battler would demean and reduce him to nothing but a consort meant for eye candy. And yet, that part of him was outweighed by his more rational side, the side that found Battler’s every dominating, defiling act to be unwanted. However, no matter how much his rationale cried out, in the end his body still responded so well to it. He would sometimes find himself becoming aroused from the fact that he was wearing women’s clothing, his hair in a feminine style - he was tempting to every man he saw, regardless of their sexual inclinations, whether from the softness of his face or the broadness of his shoulders. He was erotic to even look at, a heresy to all - and if it had been his own choice, rather than something forced upon him… perhaps it would have been different. As it was, robbed of choice as he was, he found arousal and shame in it, rather than strength.
“You’ve been quiet.” Battler’s eyes narrowed; in an instant, the gentle sheepdog became the wolf. His fingers brushed against Virgilius’ prostate, making him bite the inside of his cheek as he tried not to let on how pleasurable it was. “Do you have anything to say?” His hand squeezed Virgilius’ cock.
“Nothing,” Virgilius bit out, a whimper on his lips.
His hand tightened around his cock, and Virgilius let out a tremulous whine. “Speak.”
He exhaled shakily; he despised this. He despised how he was made to bare himself completely for the emperor, who never showed him the same courtesy. He revealed bits and pieces, but not enough for Virgilius to have Battler in whole - just enough for him to want more, a starving creature bereft of completion.
“Please, fuck me,” Virgilius ground out. He had already spoken of his displeasure. He had nothing else to say except that he wanted Battler to hurry up and erase everything, to drown him in physical lovemaking so that he would lose the ability to think at all. And then, if he was lucky and Battler was satisfied, he could receive a few scraps of affection before the emperor needed to return to his duties.
Battler withdrew his fingers from Virgilius’ asshole, leaving the man beneath him hissing at the sudden extraction. Battler could only think that Virgilius was truly like some easily displeased cat. No matter how much Battler tried to spoil him, to be gentle with him, Virgilius was often so recalcitrant. And yet, sometimes after Battler was harsh with him, using the man’s body to release his darkest urges, Virgilius would act so sweetly. He truly couldn’t understand him. And that was why Battler continued to return to him.
The women of the inner palace often wished to seduce him to gain power, or else they wished to have as little to do with him as possible. For the former, he watched their power struggles play out against each other as they fought against their ‘rivals’ for his ‘love’. For the latter, he often left them be. The urge did not strike him to force himself upon them - not with his grandfather’s sins dwelling in his blood. Virgilius was different; Virgilius had given himself over in a willing exchange, and though he was not always enthusiastic to have the emperor take him to bed, he was never disgusted by him.
Battler pressed his erection against Virgilius’ thigh, looking down at the man. He truly was so lovely, his long hair strikingly beautiful. He had such a lovely form that someone had dared to try to take him away. He was so lovely that even Battler’s power as emperor could not prevent fools from trying to tear him away from Battler’s grasp. Battler could understand why, looking at the pretty thing on the bed, heavy breaths coming from soft lips, with fluttering eyelashes and pink cheeks like flowers in bloom. Like a soft, delicate peach… he wanted to take this person and bite down as he gripped him tightly, enough to bruise, so that his loveliness was marred for everyone but him.
He only took a moment to apply a thin coating of lube, his length leaking precome from his eagerness to claim his lover. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to take him, to drain him dry of every desire, to wring out the soft body beneath him, to transform it into a quivering, thoughtless thing. Virgilius had such a sharp mind - and that was why Battler so loved when he could break that mind, could make the man incapable of anything but incoherent babbling or quiet obedience. There should be nothing left of his lover but Battler’s taint upon him, nothing that Virgilius could call his own to give away, nothing that any other man could dare try to steal.
“You want me to do this?” Battler brought the tip of his cock to Virgilius’ ass, lining up the length against him. The pink hole had been stretched and prepared, and the rim of it glistened with lubrication.
Virgilius looked up at him, his eyes pleading for his lover to go on. “Please.” The word seemed resentful; there was regret to it, a bite to it, as though it burned his throat to beg.
Battler’s longing to touch him conflicted with his desire to force his consort to properly grovel and plead. In the end, too impatient to draw it out, he placed his hands on Virgilius’ slender waist, nails digging into the delicate skin as he roughly forced himself into the hole awaiting him. The owner of that hole gasped in shock, muscles tightening around Battler’s cock as tears welled up in his eyes. However, though his arms were unfettered, he didn’t try to push the emperor away. He squirmed a bit, panting and gasping with the pain of the sudden entrance, but there was no true resistance. Even so, Battler wasn’t satisfied with this.
Virgilius was a precious delicacy afforded only to him, so why had that dear treasure been touched by someone else? Virgilius had only known his touch, so why was it that Virgilius did not plead for him to wipe away the stain of another man, but instead seemed almost reluctant? Why was it that he was ungrateful for how beautiful Battler had made him, and instead had become so cold? He could only be so gentle; he could only be so understanding. In the end, he was filled with savage instincts, and so he couldn’t stop himself from acting cruelly yet again.
He thrust into his lover, so precious to him, so resentful of him, the object of all his desires, his longing, his love, his resentment. He listened to Virgilius cry out, eyes gleaming like far-off twinkling stars that he could not touch in the chilly night sky. He needed to touch him, to drag that celestial body, akin to the far-off moon, to the earth. He would put the moon in a pond and build a cage over it, draping the cage in soft silks so it was made lovely, and he would then make the moon into something he could touch, rather than cool water his hands could not hold.
His cock was tightly gripped by that body he felt he was incapable of touching, the heat of his desires met with just as great a heat. He panted as he thrust into his lover, slick sounds heightening his lust. Virgilius’ hands reached up to clutch at his lover, shaky fingers meeting air as he lost his way, unable to hold on. He let out moans, dizzy with pleasure.
Just as Battler was being driven mad by his need to possess him, Virgilius was being driven mad by the need to be possessed. He didn't want to be an object, a doll, a thing, but he couldn't resist it. He was being held down, legs opened, fucked by his lover to the point where every thrust made his vision flicker. He could hardly breathe from the onslaught, let alone think. And, even when he could think, it was only pathetic thoughts. He thought that Battler should use him more, break him further, until he could no longer recover. He thought that it was good to be claimed like this, with red lines carved into his flesh by the emperor's nails and his body overcome with the ecstasy of submission.
…This was no good. Like this, he wouldn't be able to resist. He wouldn't be able to keep himself from giving Battler his heart once again. Every time he would try to avoid giving into these desires, he would succumb in the end. It was as though there was some innately weak part of him, one that wanted to be fucked stupid and kept like a pet. Maybe he truly had been meant to be a whore, just as that official had accused him of being.
“What happened to that cold expression?” Battler taunted him, pausing in his thrusts. “You look so different now, Riyu~”
Virgilius’ body demanded more. He wanted to come, to release the pleasure, to return to normal. He wanted to climax and then to drop into oblivion and submit to his master. He wanted to run just as much as he wanted to be chained to the bed, unable to ever leave again.
“You know what happened…” he muttered.
Battler pointedly thrust once, cock grinding against his prostate and leaving Virgilius whimpering. “If you won't be honest, you'll regret it…”
Virgilius had nothing but regrets already. He didn't speak again, mustering up chilly resentment even in this compromising, intimate position. He knew his efforts were futile, but if he didn't do this, willingly submitting himself without any pressure, he would be too ashamed to show his face again.
One of Battler's hands slid up, going from his waist to his chest. And then, without warning, he grabbed Virgilius’ hair and yanked it harshly. His narrowed eyes and scowl twisted his face into something villainous and cruel. At times like this, the emperor would lose himself and go mad. Virgilius knew this, and yet had disobeyed regardless. If Battler was like this, they were monster and consort, rather than emperor and lover. It was easier this way.
While tugging on his hair, Battler resumed thrusting into him, cock slamming against Virgilius’ prostate as intense pleasure was intensified by pain. He whined, thoughts driven from his head. He couldn't think like this, and could only make such wordless noises. Already, his thoughts of rebellion had been driven out. However, Battler hadn't yet finished with him.
“You have nothing to say,” Battler spat, “because you'll submit like this to anyone who will have you, won't you?” His words came out between thrusts and pants. “I heard what that scum called you. Are you really a whore? At least they fuck for money, don't they?”
Virgilius couldn't even argue. At this point, rather than being infuriated, he could only grow more aroused by this baseless humiliation. His breath stuttered, words stolen from him as Battler fucked him while yanking on that lovely hair he was so infatuated with. His body, made soft by lack of exercise and yielding by many nights spent with the emperor, was on the verge of giving in completely.
“All you need to do is look lovely for me and spread your legs,” Battler murmured. “No need for you to think, Riyu… Just be mine.”
“Yours…” Virgilius echoed it thoughtlessly.
He wanted that more than anything. He wanted to have no thoughts at all, his mind dulled to nothing, devoid of all the overthinking and worrying and fear. If he could exist in nothing but the present moment, as nothing more than a pet for Battler to use, that would be a blissful existence. If he could have his ego die, living only according to the emperor's will, he would be happy.
Virgilius’ voice rose and then was reduced to weak gasps. His body felt as though it was buzzing, and there was a distinct wetness on his stomach. He let himself shatter in the aftermath of his orgasm, shame and arousal and satisfaction drowning out his conscious mind.
For Battler, Virgilius had never looked more beautiful. His lover's eyes became dull and unfocused, and he did not speak a word, only panting and gasping. His face was flushed, and the modest curve of his stomach was tainted with sticky white. His muscles had completely relaxed, leaving his body slack and pliant and powerless. He was like a doll that could be moved around however Battler wanted.
Battler thrust into his body a few more times, receiving nothing but grunts. He thought over it for a moment before pulling out of Virgilius. Even in his current state, the man hissed. He was so quick to express himself, especially when properly coaxed. He had a good handle on his emotions, but Battler had begun to learn how to best draw out every emotion within Virgilius’ heart. And so, he knew that there had been nothing between Virgilius and that official, as he had always known.
However, that did not mean that he would resist the possessive urges rearing their head. Rather, he hadn't pulled out of Virgilius because he had finally believed in his fidelity, but because he had another idea. He let go of the precious, lovely locks he had so harshly grabbed before. Instead, he leaned down to capture Virgilius’ panting, heated lips with his own. Virgilius kissed back, though it was without much force or passion. It was the absent-minded reciprocation of a man who had lost his thoughts.
Battler retreated. His lover had been reduced to nothing, and he could only delight in it. No matter how much he loved Virgilius, he also could not fight his desire to reduce him to a bauble, a pretty thing, a toy. He enjoyed the power he had over Virgilius, and he enjoyed ruining him for anyone else. He thought Virgilius should forever remain like this: his oh-so-lovely hair tangled, his cock spent, his body shaking with the aftermath as he panted, a mindless receptacle for the emperor’s lust. He brought his hand to Virgilius’ flaccid cock, rubbing the pathetic organ against his own length, still fully erect, pent-up with desires he hadn’t yet unleashed.
“My lovely consort,” Battler praised. “Your cock isn't capable of anything more than soiling you…” Virgilius whined as Battler rubbed his cock against the flaccid member. “See how different yours is from mine? It was made just to be touched, not to fuck.”
Rather than Virgilius using his cock to pleasure others, instead all Virgilius was permitted to do was to receive pleasure from it. Battler would caress it, and sometimes, if he was in a particular mood, he would even tend to it with his mouth. Regardless, Virgilius’ cock had never been inside Battler. The emperor was on top of the world, with no one who stood above him. He was not allowed to be weak in any way, even within the bedroom with only Virgilius as a witness. Instead, he had to claim power, to plunder bodies, and could not ever let Virgilius take up that role.
Virgilius’ cock was sensitive, and he shuddered as Battler continued to rub the two cocks together. Battler was aroused by how every slight movement made his lover whimper, eyes wet with tears as his body writhed beneath Battler. However, Virgilius had no sharp words, no true resistance. He was adorably helpless, and all Battler wanted to do was to enjoy that. Only he had seen Virgilius like this; only he had known this debauched side to him. Only Battler could put Virgilius in his place and satisfy his needs this way.
“It's practically an oversized clit, don't you think?” Battler grasped Virgilius’ cock firmly. It was still limp, unable to rise again so soon without a proper break.
“...Yes…” Virgilius agreed. His slowness was not that of hesitation, but simply because, in his current wrecked state, it took him that long to understand Battler's question and react.
Battler laughed. His consort really was so foolish like this, drunk on pleasure and unable to react to anything Battler said with anything less than affirmation and obedience. Perhaps he had stolen Virgilius' manhood more thoroughly than even castration could: he had made him into something in-between, into a powerless pet he could display as he pleased with whatever trappings of gender he liked. He had ruined him for anyone but a person with deviant tastes like himself, and even Virgilius seemed to feel he had been ruined.
The sight of Virgilius whimpering and crying, combined with rubbing against his cock, sneering at it and calling it such insults, was enough. He allowed himself to come, groaning - not moaning, he was the emperor, he did not moan - as his seed was wasted, marking Virgilius’ stomach and chest. Rather than creating a precious noble heir, continuing his tainted bloodline, he had defiled Virgilius’ body and claimed it as his.
Battler sighed and laid down next to Virgilius in the bed, strength leaving him now that his desires had been sated. He reached out to stroke and untangle his hair. Virgilius only hummed softly and shuffled closer to Battler. He was still shaking and catching his breath, but he resembled a sleepy cat who refused to not be by his owner’s side. Battler's heart, which had been blackened by Sayo's crimson blood drying on his skin, softened for Virgilius, who had Battler’s semen drying on his.
As Battler had been ruined by murder, perhaps Virgilius was being ruined by this, by lovemaking, by sexuality, by violation. Perhaps he was being unmade, turning from that sharp-tongued and intelligent clerk to a pathetic wordless pet that could only brattily whine and taunt Battler into fucking him harder. Perhaps he was being turned into a receptacle for lust with Sayo’s spirit haphazardly forced onto him. However, wasn’t this better than what had been made of Battler? Wasn’t this preferable, wasn’t this a mercy in comparison…?
“My Riyu,” he murmured. His possession, his lover, his love.
Virgilius sighed quietly. “Battler,” he mumbled, mind still blank. He could only think that it was good to be here by his love’s side. “My Battler.”
He wrapped his arms around Virgilius, pressing the man's head against his shoulder to keep him close. Virgilius was surrounded by warmth. He could even hear Battler's heartbeat, a constant thrum in his ear. He had nothing to worry about. What did he care for how he dressed when he was unclothed and being embraced so sweetly? What mattered except the quiet intimacy of this moment?
Battler shuddered. “I can't be yours.” The words were heavy, strangling his voice. “I gave myself to someone else first. But… if I can ask it of you…” Virgilius was being held so tightly, and yet delicately, as though the force might break him. “Please let them live through you.”
Virgilius didn't know how to respond. His empty mind could not conjure an answer. Even a nod felt beyond him. His body ached, and he could think of nothing but how warm Battler was. How he soothed the aches. He couldn't do anything but bury his head in Battler's shoulder. The world was overwhelming and terrifying; all that mattered was that Battler was here. The emperor could solve everything else.
He pressed a soft kiss to the consort’s forehead. “It's alright,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you regardless. No matter how you struggle.” Those soft words belied a sharp, pointed threat.
“Ah… Please,” Virgilius could only murmur against sweat-soaked, heated skin. “Don’t leave me.”
This was enough, for all the accompanying pain. This was close enough to what he wanted that he couldn’t ever let go of it. No matter what he had to do… he wanted to stay by Battler’s side. He didn’t want to become someone else, to take on their flesh and blood, to embody them, to house their soul. He didn’t want to be second-best, a second choice, a vessel for lust directed towards a ghost. He didn’t want to not recognize his reflection in the mirror. However, more than that, he didn’t want to be alone. It was a pathetic weakness that rendered him into this twisted thing, allowed Battler to objectify and ruin him, and destroyed the original Virgilius in favor of the consort his emperor desired. However, he had no choice but this. Not merely for his sister’s sake - he had passed that point long ago - but for his own pitiful desires.
“I’ll give you more guards,” Battler muttered. “Perhaps I’ll even put you in the inner palace proper… There will only be eunuchs there.”
Virgilius’ slowly-returning awareness allowed him to understand that what Battler was proposing was ridiculous. More and more, he was being treated as a wife, rather than any sort of husband. But… it was a sign of Battler’s love for him, wasn’t it? Delusionally, foolishly, he wanted to believe that. It soothed the rage for what was being done to him; it was a balm to his wounded pride. He knew that he wasn’t pure in the slightest, but Battler still wished to treat him as something pure not to be touched or deflowered by anyone but him, even while calling him by such filthy words in bed. He was a lotus that had bloomed in mud and then been transplanted to a pristine pond.
Battler embraced him tightly, nails digging into the smooth, unblemished flesh of his back. How much blood of Virgilius’ would he spill simply to keep Virgilus in line? How much blood would he spill of others to keep Virgilius his? It was terrifying to have such a bloodstained man in his bed, and yet, for the moment, he felt no fear. The lamb willingly let the wolf claw at him, neck bared for the predator’s jaws. He knew that even if he was bitten and clawed, he wouldn’t be allowed to die until the emperor no longer loved him - and, at that point, did he really want to live at all? …It was such a whiny, dependent thought that Virgilius was sickened with himself. He truly was nothing more than an extension of the emperor.
“Will you visit me, in the inner palace?” Virgilius asked.
“Every night,” Battler promised. As though he wouldn’t ruin Virgilius’ body with such constant lovemaking, as though Virgilius wouldn’t be pervasively sore and bruised and wrung dry. “I’ll visit you.”
A long time ago, Battler had promised to come back for the girl he loved. He had been sent off to war by his father, and the girl he left behind had smiled and waved. However, the person he had returned to, withdrawn and hollow, had not been that girl. It had been a witch. The witch had cursed Battler, turned him into a monster for betraying his promise, and had died, leaving him behind.
No matter how cruel Virgilius thought him to be, he wouldn’t allow Virgilius to be left alone. He wouldn’t let Virgilius be free of the cage. For all eternity, he would be trapped within the cage of his arms, never to be let go. Not even a single strand of hair was allowed to escape Battler’s grasp. Not a single part of Virgilius was allowed to be taken away. Virgilius was permitted to despise him, to loathe him, to curse him and transform him into an even greater monster than what Sayo had made him into. He would turn willingly, just as he had for Sayo, sinking into depravity and bloodlust.
The two lovers both understood that Battler’s love was twisted. However, it was only Virgilius who understood that he was twisted as well… to be capable of accepting it. For how long would he be able to deny it? For how long would he be able to say that he was entirely unwilling, taken against his will by a monster he had willingly sacrificed himself to? For how long… would he be able to act as though he was a mere object, and not an eager participant in this?
The next day, the emperor had the palace official who had tainted his precious consort executed. Virgilius not had been permitted to watch any of the gruesome torture that so satisfied Battler’s ego. Later that day, everything of Virgilius’ was moved to the inner palace. He received his own palace: it was an empty place with only a few handpicked servants, unlike the other consorts who had countless handmaidens. However, no one dared to mock or jeer. The furniture brought into that palace, the precious imported goods moved into his chambers, displayed the level of favor the emperor had bestowed upon him.
They had not believed the rumors: the beautiful consort, some strange fey mix between genders, who had seduced the heartless, cold emperor. It was a love story to be told in poems and ballads, to be spread amongst the world as a grand epic tale of romance. The consort himself was so lovely that no one could doubt that the many high quality gifts and items belonged to him and no other. There could be no sorcery involved, for the consort seemed shy and did not speak to any of the others.
And then, that night, the emperor came to the inner palace for the first time in weeks… for that beautiful addition to his garden. The consort who was so quiet and yet gifted truly had softened the tyrannical emperor. Such an extraordinary beauty, to be possessed only by the Son of Heaven, never to be touched by another for fear of treason. It seemed that even for the consort to be looked upon by other men’s eyes would cause the emperor to fly into fits of rage; the consort had needed to be moved to this garden simply to protect them from male gazes.
The rumors spread more and more: the emperor who had forgotten how to love had fallen in love. However, Virgilius could only scoff - Battler did not love, but merely lusted for him. They had been deceived. And Battler, too, could only scoff - how could his ‘love’ be treated as romantic, when Virgilius so spurned and recoiled from it and yet desired it in turn? Was it not some sort of poisonous obsession, driving them both to madness?
The wolf who had been tamed, and the lamb who did not fear being devoured. The man who wanted to imprison the distant moon. The power of the heavens, and the depravity of hell. No matter how close the emperor and consort grew, they could not understand each other, the barrier of their own distorted perceptions forever keeping them apart.