Title: Illicit Experiments
Fandom: Trinity Blood
Pairing: Isaak x Dietrich (overpowered mage rofl)
Synopsis: Curiosity killed the cat, or in this case, the puppetmaster.

Hazel eyes gazed into the reflective surface sitting ever so placidly on the table. An instrument of the puppetmaster's experiments, away from the eyes of his teacher. Dietrich smirked.

"Lets begin." He murmured softly, as the clock chimed midnight. A blade slid across skin, drawing blood, and then making a sigil over the mirror. The blood remained on the surface for a moment, before seemingly being absorbed by the surface."What the..." Dietrich frowned, and did it again. Blood ran down his fingers, staining his hand crimson. Once again, the same thing happened, the surface of the mirror seemingly rippling as the blood was sucked into it.

"What am I doing wrong? This should work, shouldn't it?" The puppetmaster slammed the blade into the wood of the table in frustration.

"I believe the question would not be 'what are you doing wrong', but 'exactly what are you doing?', wouldn't it?" Silken velvet purred into his ear, sending an involuntarily shiver up the puppetmaster's spine. The mirror slipped from ungloved fingers, and not one, but two pairs of eyes watched them fall, the reflective surface shattering into a million glittering shards on the floor. Dietrich hardly looked shaken, but his trembling fingers gave it away. He swallowed the shock, and with a voice that betrayed just the slightest of his surprise, spoke steadily.

"You surprised me, magician."

Gloved fingers cupped Dietrich's chin, forcing the younger man's eyes to gaze up into his. "Have you heard, Dietrich, that breaking a mirror, brings bad luck...?"

The puppetmaster found his gaze locked, barely able to move. He was dully aware of Isaak's hand slipping down, over his neck, then crushing the fabric of his shirt in a powerful grip. "When did you start believing in luck?"

Isaak's fingers curled around Dietrich's unwounded hand, almost gentle, until those slender fingers suddenly applied an almost crushing grip to Dietrich's wrist. The younger man flinched. "Luck is only a fool's hope but perhaps I am a fool myself for believing in it."

Dietrich lifted his now bloody hand, fingers brushing over Isaak's lips. His other hand still remained, trapped in Isaak's vice-like grip. "You always give so cryptic answers."

"Only because cryptic words are my speciality." The magician smirked, lips flicking over Dietrich's bloody fingers, taking them into his mouth and lapping at the blood. Dietrich's lips curled into a smirk, his fingers shifting, teasing Isaak's tongue lightly.Then slowly, Isaak released Dietrich's fingers, lapping at the individual digits. "You do realize you are going to be punished for your illicit experiments, hiding them from my knowledge, are you not?"

The puppetmaster suddenly found himself on the ground, a few glass shards digging into his back, Isaak's weight atop him keeping him pinned down. Isaak smirked slightly, bracing himself over the now prone puppetmaster, and smirking. "It's just like you. Dabbling into illegal experiments without telling me. Oh, don't worry, I don't fault your curiosity. I'm sure you must be wondering how I found out, aren't you?"

Shadows emerged out of the ground, the slender tentacles of whatever monster the magician had summoned this time slipping under his protege's clothes and binding him. On the magician's command, a bloody pentagram formed beneath him, with Dietrich's limbs pinned to four of the five points. Hazel eyes gazed up into ebony black ones, as if challenging him to something worst. "Is this the worst you can do, Isaak?"

Isaak smirked slightly, kneeling beside Dietrich and divesting him of his shirt, slowly sliding the material off his shoulders. "Oh, I can do so much worst." There was a silver flash, and Dietrich cried out. Blood trickled from a cut on his now bare torso, staining the white shirt crimson.

"You'd bleed me to death, wouldn't you?"

There was a predatory smirk from the magician. "Oh, I would drain you dry if I could." Lips closed over the jagged wound, tongue pressing against warm skin, tasting blood as it seeped from the cut. Dietrich moaned, the violation of his wound stinging. But Isaak wouldn't stop there, his teeth tugged at the edges of the cut he had inflicted, drawing out more blood from the wound.

"But you're no methuselah." Dietrich pointed out dryly, lips curling into a forced smirk. He wouldn't show how much pain he was in, Dietrich was too proud to do that. Isaak laughed, lighting a cigarette, leaving Dietrich restrained, settling down beside the puppetmaster. Slowly, he removed his gloves, placing them on the ground just beside Dietrich's hand, fingers trailing over the puppetmaster's stomach, creeping ever closer to the wound.

"I'm aware of that." Without warning, fingers dug into the wound. Dietrich cried out in pain, and at the same time, found his scream muffled by lips pressed against his own. The heady taste of smoke nearly overwhelmed him, hazel eyes slipping shut. Isaak smirked, pulling away slightly, allowing Dietrich to breathe.

Dietrich coughed, eyes opening and glaring at Isaak. "I hate it when you smoke."

The magician's lips merely curled into a smirk. His bloodied fingers gently soothed the wound they had agitated moments ago. Dietrich reached down, gripping Isaak's hand, and forced himself to sit up. Isaak merely raised an eyebrow at the puppetmaster's actions. Then, slowly, he felt the pressure on his wrist released, felt those slender hands cup his face, then the taste of Dietrich's lips on his.

"And yet you keep kissing me. How contradictory of you." Isaak murmured softly, before lips closed over his. His eyes closed, fingers tangling in chocolate brown hair, pulling the puppetmaster's smaller frame closer to him.

"Only because contradictory actions are my speciality."