[personal profile] clandestine_terrors
Title: Hell and Consequences
Author: [livejournal.com profile] sphinxofthenile 
Fandom: Trinity Blood
Pairing: Dietrich/Hugue
Rating: R
Warning: angst, character death, bondage, smut
Summary:  How did Hugue manage to aquire the blueprints of Silent Noise? This is my version.
First part of a three-part series.


The sun shines down hotly on the city, highlighting every tiny detail of the horrible sight. There are no streets, no squares remaining. I push a bothersome blonde lock back from my eyes, pausing for a moment to look around before I make my way down to the small valley between two enormous piles of broken stone.
I search the ruins of the once proud building, not entirely sure what I’m looking for in the terrible destruction that once was Barcelona. I only know one thing. That there has to be some sort of clue. Noelle couldn’t die for nothing. There has to be something. Kate archived her last conversation with Abel.
She mentioned something about blueprints.
I have to find something. I have to, because here could lie something that can help me avenge my loved ones. Among them now, Noelle.
Noelle… Always so kind to everyone, so bright, sometimes even a bit silly. But inside her was a silent wisdom, a quiet sadness that made it easy for me to talk to her. Always so caring, so understanding…
I’ve chosen her as my confessor.
It is so hard to accept that she is gone now and these sad ruins are her gravestone. So deserted, so empty, so… grey.
In this area I’m now in, the walls are quite intact, and I wander deeper into the building, though it’s anything but safe. At least it is shadowed, protected from the heat of the blazing sun outside. I search the debris covering the floor, my heart heavy with the grief and anger I feel seeing this senseless destruction.
"Looking for these?”
I spin around to see a young man holding up a few sheets of paper, and my eyes narrow at him. My hand is on my sword before the movement registers in my brain. He is a quite beautiful and a very alarming sight as he is wearing a pristine uniform of some sort.
"Who are you?”
I can tell he is not a Methuselah, but there is something unnerving about him, maybe the way he stands there, too self-confident and smug for someone so young.
I don’t like the way he smiles.
"I’m Dietrich von Lohengrin.”
Abel had faced a Dietrich on one of his previous missions. Dietrich… from the Rosenkreuz Orden. My grip tightens on my weapon, my lips baring teeth.
"What do you want, Puppet Master?”
He smiles arrogantly, but the twinkle in his eyes gives away his pleasant surprise.
"Oh, so our dear Abel told you about me.”
He is smiling, his fox-like eyes studying me slyly. Then he lets out a soft chuckle, raises his hand and steps closer. Then closer and closer…
My eyes open wide as I realise I can’t move away. I want to, but I feel the pain of invisible restraints cutting into my flesh, and I struggle, but can’t escape their firm grip that pulls my hands to my sides and holds them there securely.
"So… what else did he tell you about me?”
His satisfaction is so thick in his voice I can almost taste it. My mind is working furiously to come up with a way to turn the tables in my favor, but his magic holds me captive, so I do the only thing I can.
I wait.
He steps behind me, so close I can feel his hot breath on my neck as he whispers sweetly, lecherously.
"Did you make him confess his sins, Father? How we met in that dirty alleyway back in Istavan? How he moaned your name as I got him off?”
You lie…
He gives emphasis to his words with a tentative lick to my ear. I close my eyes and feel the rage boiling inside me searching for outlet, seeking to move, to kill, to destroy.
His words burn my soul like acid spilled on open wounds. I grit my teeth to hold back the curse that is threatening to escape my lips. I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
He is still behind me, his body pressed to mine, his long, slender fingers slowly sliding underneath the long coat and down my chest and lower… lower…
His fingertips are hovering teasingly over my hipbone for a moment before he moves further down and starts stroking my cock lazily.
My whole body tenses, I want to push him away and all I can do is stare daggers at the invasive hand.
No one plays me like that…
But behind the red haze of anger and the black mist of hatred I can’t deny that it feels good.
"And why…” Kiss.  "would I…” Kiss. "do that?” Lick.
Bloody hell, he knows what he is doing. His fingers move gently, slowly, creating a delicious friction that is too strong to be ignored, but not enough to bring gratification. His other hand slides under the fabric of my shirt with practiced ease, his skin is cool on mine and I shiver.
Suddenly, he brushes a thumb at the head and I let out a throaty moan. His lips are caressing my neck right below the ear as he speaks, his left hand wandering to trail my ribs.
"Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” His voice is seductive, mischievous, sweetly mocking and deep with lust. He flicks out his tongue to taste skin, and his hot breath on the cooling saliva sends a shiver down my spine.
"Let me hear it. Nothing to hold back. Give me those moans. Your control. Break for me, Sword Dancer.”
I grind my teeth together and defiantly shake my head as much as I can. It earns me a dark chuckle, and he is kissing and licking my neck, lips slowly sliding down to the junction of neck and shoulder to bite and suck on sensitive flesh, and it is getting harder and harder just to breathe.
"I’ll kill you.” I grunt, and I can hear the smirk in his voice as he answers.
"Oh, really?”
His left hand finds a nipple, playing with it with deft fingers while he is stroking my arousal harder, faster. I can feel the tension growing in my muscles, my breathing is shallow, and as he squeezes a bit harder, palm fondling my balls, my hips start moving against my will.
I can feel him smiling against my skin as he is nibbling at my earlobe.
"Somehow, I doubt it”, he murmurs softly, hands never ceasing the blissful torture of my flesh. Soon, he’ll have me where he wants it. If he doesn’t already.
He presses his erection to my ass, moving his hips in time with his hand and I can’t help it but sigh deeply. That earns me yet another chuckle from those merciless lips. I shudder feeling my approaching completion, my cock dripping with precum. He wipes the droplets away with his fingers and lifts them to my lips so I can taste it.
I don’t want to. But he forces two fingers in, making me savor the pearly essence, and explores freely. I bite his fingers as hard as I can. I manage to draw blood and I smirk. He pulls them free, pale skin now tainted with red, a malevolent reminder of a spark of free will inside me.
He slaps me so hard his blood in my mouth mixes with mine.
"Slut.” He says, and he yanks my head back by pulling at my hair. He doesn’t sound the least irritated though. Quite the contrary. He spins me around and kisses me hard, and I could swear he is purring into my mouth.
His tongue explores just as thoroughly as his fingers did, finally stopping to lick at the small wound. Taking my split lip between his he starts sucking, and this delicate mixture of pleasure and pain goes straight to my groin, making me whimper and crave more of this poisonous rapture.
He laughs into the kiss, an evil, victorious sound that seems to be bubbling from the depths of his very soul, something dark and hollow behind tissue and bone.
What is this creature?
He smells like desire and tastes like sin, like bitter chocolate and cranberries.
My instincts push me towards him, wanting to find gratification, needing it so badly, while everything else pushes me away. I’m dancing on the edge of a knife, torn between lust and hate, body and soul.
His lithe body is pressed to mine, hips grinding together, lips still sealed in the cruel kiss. I want to stop, stop the movement of my hips, the needy little pants pouring from my throat, but he bites my lower lip, causing more blood to ooze from the gash, and I lose myself in the feel of his slick, lapping tongue, the coppery taste of red life and the heat of his breath coming out in ragged, shallow exhales.
It doesn’t matter anymore why he is doing this, what is the reason behind all of this. I let my thoughts slip away with unnatural carelessness, the only thing that is on my mind is the fact that his hands stopped their ministrations and his hips are not enough.
As if he is reading my mind, his hand slides between us, freeing himself first, then wrapping around both of our lengths. His palm is hot and his grip is tight, and I’m so close...
"Father?” Comes an unsure, tiny voice from not afar, and everything seems to freeze and stop in time, only the sound of our blood pounding and our ragged breaths we can’t control disturb the silence.
I recognise the voice of the little girl who led me here. I told her to wait outside where she would be safe. At any other circumstances I would reprimand her for breaking her promise, but right now she is my chance, the chance I’ve been so desperately waiting for.
I open my mouth to call out for her to run and bring help, but he silences me with a rough kiss and pushes me into a nearby dark alcove. When his lips leave mine, his magic seals them, and I shoot him a look that would make any sane man run for cover.
Doesn’t seem to disturb him, though.
He puts his index finger to my mouth, first just resting it there, then slowly stroking as he listens contentedly to her voice fading away in the distance. His caresses leave a tingling sensation in their wake.
"How unfortunate that we were interrupted like this…” He purrs into my ear and chuckles. „I’ve enjoyed our little encounter, Father.”
He quickly rearranges his clothing and then resumes leaning into me, nuzzling my cheek and looking up into my eyes with his chocolate ones so full of dark amusement and sinister delight.
"Come to the Castillo in Madrid tomorrow evening, and I will give you the blueprints.”
I manage to arch and eyebrow, and he flashes a radiant smile at me before touching his lips to my ear again and answering my unspoken question.
"Because this is the only way for you to save your beloved Vatican and the people of Rome.” He whispers sweetly, and my eyes open wide as the words finally sink in.
The next moment he shoves me so hard to the ground without even touching me that my teeth clash. By the time I gather myself together and my head stops spinning he is already gone, the only remainder of him the dark chuckle that still echoes in my mind and the tiny piece of elegant ivory paper in my hand that reads:
 Castillo de Noche, Calle Augustina, 280766 Madrid
I slowly slide down to a sitting position by the wall, and leaning my head to the hard stone I close my eyes.
What the fuck had just happened?
I pull together my long overcoat and shiver despite the warm temperature. It feels like waking from one of my nightmares, only this time I’m wide awake. I rub my face with my palm, but it does little to make me feel better.
I stare at the address, and wonder if this interlude actually caused me to lose my mind.
I wasn’t considering it for a split second, was I?
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