I would preserve your heart along with your eyes in embalming fluid. Once you've been silenced… will my pain cease?

This compulsion to hate that I myself am unable to control!

"Cain Hargreaves," the flaxen murmured the name. Ice laced his tone, and lying beneath perched a ball of fire; the contradicting elements threatening to combust, implode, and take the scientist down with them.

A long, elegant finger slid down the length of a clear glass jar of formaldehyde, in which lay twin orbs; ivory as the base coat, decorated with slithering veins of scarlet, hollow chestnut spheres and pitch black at the core. Just who the poor soul was, the one to lose these second-rate pair of chocolate eyes, Jizabel wasn't sure. He hadn't known her formally. She was an unfortunate, one of many who scattered London's fine streets, soiling the pristine image of Mother England with her promises of cheap sex. Jizabel didn't know her name. However, he had given her addition to his collection a name; Sable.

Sable nestled betwixt Jade and Hazel, and behind her lay more grotesque unfortunates who had fallen into his grasp.

Why had he taken their organs, anyhow?

Curiosity?

Yes, that was it…

Curiosity to see if any of these splendid specimens could possibly live up to the pair of eyes he craved the most.

Cain's.

But none of them came even close! Not by a long shot. Each one differed so… Each one had its own unique aspect… But to Jizabel, they were all the same. Lovely to look at, but hideous compared to those of his half-brother's.

What a thrill it would be to make Cain's glorious golden-green eyes part of his lovely little family…

Jizabel already had a spare cleared just for him. Just for Cain. Cain's magnificent hues would take residence in a place of honor smack dab in the center of his laboratory in a jar all their own, standing proud amongst all of the other organs Jizabel had taken for his own.

Jizabel could stare into those eyes for hours. Days. Not moving, perhaps not even blinking, taking in the glory that was his beautiful half-brother.

What content it would bring him!

I would preserve your heart along with your eyes in embalming fluid…

The doctor's eyes closed as he caressed the jar containing his latest addition, the poor, unfortunate Sable.

He murmured Cain's name again.

… embalming fluid…

Blindly groping, Jizabel grasped the glass around its middle, clenching tightly, never mind the fact that he could have broken the jar.

Once you have been silenced…

Jizabel's blood ran hot. One searing jolt of heat, and then a numbing cold to freeze his veins.

His breathing deepened. His chest heaved. God help him, he was lusting like a male dog in the company of ten bitches in their first heat. It was a common occurrence for him to lust for his half-brother in such a manner. Nothing new to him. He would work through it.

… will my pain…

Jizabel's slim pelvis stirred; a reaction to the heat pumping through his veins, his steadily increasing heartbeat.

… will my pain cease?

With a grip of vise secured around Sable, he violently tore his arm away from the shelf. Sable went with his tightly groping hand until he pivoted. His fingers went lax, and Sable went flying into the stone wall beside a table full of meticulously organized papers. Formaldehyde splashed, showered the wall and the floor, dotted his files. Chocolate brown eyeballs plopped onto the floor, dead weight, and Sable was no more.

Finally, Jizabel slowed his breathing, but the lust in his veins was not so easily satiated.

Gray eyes, devoid of any real life, glazed over, glistened with the maddening mixed emotions of passion and agony.

Jizabel needed his fix.

But how? Who?

The answer came to him during a routine visit to Cassandra's mansion.

As usual, the blackguard was making a complete fool of himself. But who was Jizabel to point it out to him? He would realize soon enough.

"Do not underestimate Cain, Cassandra," Jizabel told him in a calm, cool voice, counteracting the magma in his veins.

Slouching, his arms slung over the back of his Victorian sofa, Cassandra's head and raven hair hung behind him, limp like a rag doll. Did he have any idea just how foolish he looked just then? Had Jizabel desired such a thing, he could have slit Cassandra's throat! Cassandra left himself wide open to any number of ill fates.

Incompetent.

"You shouldn't relax your guard just because you've separated him from Riff."

Cassandra laughed.

"Your hatred of your sibling is so strong," said Cassandra, "that you cannot bear to see me succeed so quickly where you have constantly failed!"

Cassandra swirled his glass of red wine back and forth once or twice.

"I'm giving you advice," Jizabel countered. "You don't know how many cards have suffered at his hands-"

"You most of all, am I wrong?"

Jizabel's sharp gray eyes narrowed, albeit only just. He kept a stolid appearance.

"They all failed because of the Cardmaster's orders," Cassandra murmured in that haughty tone of his. "The order that… 'he's off limits.'"

After a sip of his liquor, Cassandra went on.

"But on the other hand, he's the Cardmaster's Achilles' Heel."

Cassandra snickered, and Jizabel felt the sudden urge to shatter that glass he held so closely, then take a shard of it to his neck. Ah, but where was the fun in doing away with him so quickly? None. Cassandra would have his moment. Soon. Very soon.

"Soon I'll get you the golden eyes that you desire so much. I'm going to acquire him no matter what."

Cassandra sounded so confident with himself.

Jizabel was not swayed.

"Your words fall on deaf ears here, Cassandra," Jizabel said with closed eyes as he adjusted his thin-rimmed glasses.

"If you doubt me to that degree," Cassandra said, "then why don't we do this?"

Jizabel dared to raise an eyebrow.

"If I lose to him, then you win… I'll give you my entire fortune."

Interest piqued, Jizabel directed his quizzical glance to the man on the sofa.

"Everything you own…?"

"Yes," Cassandra chirped. "Everything that you desire. But if he falls into my hands…"

The brown-haired socialite set down his glass and crouched down beneath the sofa he had sat upon, fetching a rather large box; white in color, and apparently holding quite a bit of weight. Cassandra kicked off the top, revealing its contents:

A Scavenger's Daughter.

"… then I will take your freedom."

In the shape of an A, its metal rack was specially designed with a place for one's head and both of one's arms and feet to compress the body rather than stretch it; a unique form of torture.

Jizabel hadn't expected this. He remembered seeing the same kind of devise used on the young Latisha. Given, that one was a bit smaller in comparison. Rarely had he ever heard of the Scavenger's Daughter being used. The last documented case he could put to mind was the case of an Irishman back in the 1500's. It really was an ancient device…

A fool, Cassandra may have been. But he had his shining moments.

"See? It's a present for you," Cassandra chimed with a sickening sort of glee in his voice. "What do you think?"

Cassandra plucked the metal device from its packaging and strolled over and around to Jizabel's back, where he then slung it around the doctor's shoulders. Cassandra clutched the instrument delicately, pressing it ever so lightly against Jizabel's long, slender throat.

"I can already see you wearing these restraints that were custom made to your body's proportions."

For a moment, Jizabel wondered just how Cassandra had acquired his exact proportions. However, what reason was there to ask? He would never have a chance to use it. Jizabel doubted many things; humanity, justice, even his own father at times. But he never doubted himself.

"Agreed," said Jizabel, nonplussed.

After he had replaced the Scavenger's Daughter in its box for future use, Cassandra's tone lost its haughtiness. Replacing his cocksure attitude was one slightly tender, a tone to send a chill right up Jizabel's spine.

"I'll free you from your father's clutches no matter what…"

The approaching sound of footsteps prevented any further annotation on Cassandra's part. He reached for his wine glass instead.

A young female figure garbed in elaborate clothing strolled into the study just as her master had finished up with his liquor.

"Oh. Latisha, you're back."

Bearing a letter, Latisha shyly walked across the room to Cassandra, her wary eyes staying as far away from Jizabel as humanely possible.

"You're using that child as a messenger?" Jizabel asked skeptically.

"Latisha is illiterate," Cassandra explained, "so she won't be able to understand the details of the letter. Plus, she's mute, so she can't report me."

Cassandra reached for a bottle on the table.

"And…"

Just as the stopper left the bottle, Cassandra tipped it over and spilled the contents onto the tiled floor. Splish-splash went the potent liquid, and down went Latisha, lapping up the fluid like a woman gone mad with thirst.

"Her body is conditioned to do anything for this drug."

Cassandra chuckled with pride.

Jizabel's brow furrowed in the slightest.

"Alright then," Cassandra shifted gears, "first… We'll make him give in. He seems to be infatuated with Latisha, so…"

"You're not serious," Jizabel interjected. "You think Cain would fall for such an obvious ploy? Give him some credit."

"Give me some credit, doctor," Cassandra retorted, proud eyes watching his little slave lick up the drug dotting the floor.

Jizabel said nothing more about it.

In minutes, Latisha made her exit. Cassandra deposited his letter upon the table, opting to read it at a later time.

"What seems to be the trouble, Jizabel?" Cassandra asked after a moment's silence.

Jizabel, watching the world outside the window, said nothing. He heard Cassandra approaching, but made no attempts to move away.

"You're acting more apathetic than usual." Cassandra chuckled.

"Perhaps it's because you know my plan cannot fail, and you're afraid of losing to me?"

"That's not it," said the doctor, briefly tapping his fingertips against his chin.

That wasn't it at all. It was the heat in his veins that plagued him. The heat and no vent to make it all better. What was a grown man to do?

"Then…"

Long arms circled Jizabel from behind, clutching tight. Jizabel found his back against Cassandra's chest, the brown-haired man's breath hot against his neck.

Jizabel's pulse went mad once again.

"What is it?"

Closing his eyes, willing himself to neutrality, Jizabel dropped both of his hands to the arms ringing around his slender frame. Again, Jizabel said nothing.

Gloved fingers moved about Jizabel's waist, caressed his hipbones through his light gray trousers. Jizabel shivered unwittingly.

"I can feel it, you know," Cassandra purred into Jizabel's ear. "Your heartbeat. It's racing."

Batting away Jizabel's protesting hands, Cassandra began skimming one hand up his thin chest, his fingers curled, roughly handling the doctor.

Jizabel clenched his eyes shut. He was no victim. So he wouldn't play the part of the victim. Cassandra's touches were vile, but… the lust driving his heart to beat like crazy was more than he could bear! It sickened him to think of giving in to this man.

When it came to one's lust and one's sense of logic, Lust generally won the battle.

Cassandra pressed his groin against Jizabel's backside, grinding, eliciting a soft gasp.

Jizabel could feel Cassandra grinning insufferably against the nape of his neck.

"You want this. I know you do."

Ridding himself of his gloves first, Cassandra brought his hand to Jizabel's waist, cupping his length through the fabric of his pants.

Another gasp from Jizabel and a chuckle from Cassandra.

"You're so frigid, Jizabel," Cassandra breathed the words softly, venomously. He licked hungrily at the sweeping curve of Jizabel's ear.

Jizabel clenched his hands into fists at his sides. The inner battle of pleasure over pride raged on.

Lust, logic, pleasure, pride…

"That will be the first thing I change when I make you mine. All mine."

"You're confident," Jizabel murmured huskily.

"I'm right, too."

Without another word on the matter, Jizabel spun in Cassandra's grip, grasped either one of Cassandra's shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. A couples' first kiss was generally tentative and careful, this one was hungry and ardent. There was no tenderness here, only passion and wildfire. Tongues clashed like swords in battle, fervent moans exchanged as desire's currency.

It wasn't long before Cassandra had Jizabel up against the wall, the doctor's bottom lip in his teeth as the victim of rough nipping. Cassandra pulled back long enough to take Jizabel's thin-rimmed glasses from the bridge of his nose. Delicate in the manner he went about it, he deposited the reading utensils on the table, and that was the last gentle maneuver between them.

Once more, Cassandra crushed his lips into Jizabel's, his tongue shoving its way past closed lips, soaking in the essence he desired. Jizabel, handing himself and his pride over to his itch for carnal pleasure, roughly gripped Cassandra's back, clutched him closely against his chest. Jizabel's legs moved apart on Cassandra's cue, and Cassandra placed his knee between them.

Grinding forward, Cassandra placed a delicious friction to Jizabel's pelvis, and in turn offering his own aching erection a bit of relief. Jizabel moaned wantonly against Cassandra's open lips.

When Cassandra pulled back for air, Jizabel's face flushed. Proud features were abandoned, replaced with instinctive hunger.

Cassandra grinned.

"I never knew you were such a slut, Jizabel," Cassandra breathed hotly against Jizabel's neck.

Jizabel chuckled.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," came Jizabel's smart-alecky reply as he peered lustfully to Cassandra.

Cassandra closed his mouth over Jizabel's throbbing pulse and sucked hard. His teeth grazed porcelain flesh; scraping, while his tongue lapped over every surface he could reach. The slickness of saliva against the open air chilled Jizabel's skin, and he shuddered from it.

Cassandra groped his doctor companion through the fabric of his trousers, then forced Jizabel to do the same.

"You want it?" Cassandra asked, breathing low.

Jizabel nodded fervently.

"Beg for it," barked Cassandra as he tangled his hand in thick white-blond hair, yanking Jizabel's head further back, pulling free the tie that held it up from his face.

Jizabel hissed.

"I said, beg for it," Cassandra repeated before he bit down hard on Jizabel's throat.

Helpless to Cassandra's will, Jizabel gasped, his eyes rolling shut, his hands tight against Cassandra's shoulder blades.

"I want it," Jizabel murmured. "I want you, Cassandra. Please…" The last word didn't come as easily as the first few. The last thing he wanted to do was actually beg this man to bring him pleasure, but what choice did he have?

"What was that?"

Jizabel ground his teeth together, stalling, and Cassandra clamped his teeth down against his sensitized skin again.

"Please, Cassandra!" Jizabel cried out, his nails scratching into the other man's arms. "I want you, I need you… Take me. Please…"

Jizabel felt his breath catch in his throat when the abusive set of teeth drew away from his skin. He gasped for air, felt his throat and the teeth marks embedded within. His aching erection throbbed against Cassandra's leg.

"Good boy," Cassandra purred praise into Jizabel's ear.

Jizabel lived for that. To hear his efforts being applauded. It was such a rare event, but when it happened, no matter what the scenario, he couldn't help but smirk. He felt accomplished. Oh, he longed to hear his father say those words…

But Cassandra would do. For now.

Cassandra took hold of Jizabel's tie and yanked him over to the sofa a few yards away. He shoved the doctor down onto his back without much regard for his comfort, then proceeded to loosen his own tie.

"I've been waiting for this," said Cassandra as he yanked Jizabel's jacket from his shoulders.

"I just bet you have."

Cassandra chuckled. "Someone thinks highly of himself."

"Why shouldn't I?" Jizabel asked with a grin as he tore off his tie and unfastened the buttons of his shirt one by one.

"I've seen the way you look at me, Cassandra. Even after you've had your way with Zoë boy. Don't think I don't pay attention."

With Jizabel's shirt parted down the middle, Cassandra ran his fingertips over velvet soft skin, caressing first, then groping more roughly. Cassandra then tore the material away altogether.

Jizabel purred.

"I'm glad you've noticed, my dear Jizabel," Cassandra purred lustfully, straddling Jizabel's thin waist.

"I told myself I would wait to have my way with you," he went on, "until after I've won our little wager."

"So you've had our bet in mind all along?" Jizabel queried, albeit rhetorically. Of course he had. Why else would Cassandra have a Scavenger's Daughter made especially for him?

"Naturally."

Cassandra nipped, kissed and sucked his way down Jizabel's chest, further down to his flat stomach, and even further down to his hips. Jizabel fidgeted lightly underneath his less-than-tender touch.

"I… should've known…"

Oh, Jizabel could play dumb when he had to.

Cassandra chuckled, swirling his tongue around Jizabel's navel, eliciting a startled gasp. When he dipped his tongue into the small crevasse, Jizabel fisted his hands into Cassandra's hair, gripping tight, demanding more attention further south.

Cassandra obliged.

Unfastening the hem of Jizabel's trousers and pulling them down and away from his legs, Cassandra pecked his lips over and around the prominent bulge in the doctor's underclothing. Jizabel stirred anxiously.

"Patience, darling. Patience."

"I don't have enough patience for patience right now," Jizabel seethed. The more Cassandra teased him, the worse he was going to make it for him in the end…

How grotesque. About to be fucked by a man whose death he had already planned.

Jizabel had heard¾and done¾worse things than that.

When at last Jizabel's lower half was bare, Cassandra curled his long, slender fingers around his throbbing erection, stroking him slowly, so very slowly. Jizabel groaned instantly, dropping his head back, fisting the couch cushions.

"You'll have to scrape some together," Cassandra said with a smirk. Tantalizingly, he licked up Jizabel's rigid member, eliciting a whimper of pleasure.

A free hand slithered up Jizabel's chest, tickling fair skin. An index finger and a middle finger prompted Jizabel to part his lips.

"Suck on them," Cassandra commanded.

Jizabel obeyed.

Opening his thin lips, Jizabel took the slim fingers into his mouth. His tongue fervently lapped, his lips consequently sucking. He knew why Cassandra had instructed him to do this. It sickened him in a sense. It pleasured him in another.

Cassandra took Jizabel's member into his lips unexpectedly. Jizabel dropped the saliva-slicked fingers from his mouth and moaned.

It was all too much…

"Ah-ah," Cassandra chided, pulling his mouth free from Jizabel's erection.

"I didn't say stop," scolded the brown-haired man.

Unwilling to give up the attention to his needy shaft so quickly, Jizabel once more took Cassandra's fingers into his mouth, delivering the attention demanded of him. In return, Cassandra proceeded to pleasure Jizabel's rock-hard member with his mouth. Ill-fated Jizabel was denied any source of real relief, however, as Cassandra's fingers pressed firmly against the base of his erection, preventing a climax until he said so.

Jizabel groaned at that.

Having his fate in someone else's hands was something he was used to. But handing control over to someone he didn't respect in the least was something different. It turned his stomach, he made him want to retch…

But did he pull away?

Of course not.

That would be ridiculous.

Just when the source of pleasure had become unbearable, Cassandra pulled his mouth free, panting lightly for air against a saliva-slicked organ. Jizabel groaned at the sudden loss. Correspondingly, Cassandra pried his fingers away from Jizabel's swollen lips, marveling at their slippery texture.

"And now the main event."

Cassandra grinned smugly as he forced Jizabel's legs apart. He found the doctor's entrance and coaxed a finger in, though not without Jizabel's fair share of resistance. Shifting uneasily, Jizabel clenched his eyes shut as one finger's entrance was worsened by the presence of another.

He wouldn't whimper.

He wouldn't.

He could bear this.

… Right?

Before long, Cassandra's doting fingers began a solid pace of thrusting. Back, forth, in, out; pulling on occasion to force Jizabel's muscles into relaxing.

Panting, Jizabel's hands found Cassandra's straight brown hair, tangling in the chocolate strands, gripping tight, grounding himself. The discomfort worked its way out, and Jizabel shoved down upon the thrusting fingers, silently pleading for more. When the tender ball of nerves was stroked, he gasped and moaned in bliss.

Cassandra took his cue to pull his digits free from the doctor's recesses.

Moving away, further down the sofa, Cassandra kneeled just before Jizabel, his erection straining at his trousers.

"Unless you want me to take you dry," barked Cassandra, "suck me."

No sooner ordered than complied with.

Jizabel sat up, craned down, pulled Cassandra's trousers down to his knees and then took Cassandra's length into his hungry lips. He heard the brown-haired socialite sigh with pleasure, felt Cassandra stroking his hair like a dog. That's how he felt. Like a dog. The sad part about it, to him, was that he loved it.

Jizabel curled his tongue, cradled Cassandra's manhood and lulled his head back and forth. The sucking motion behind his lips brought blood to Cassandra's shaft, brought pleasure to him; pleasure increased as Jizabel swirled his tongue around the swollen crown.

An attentive hand slipped beneath Cassandra's length, between his legs, cradling and caressing the sac that hung there. Jizabel's lips couldn't quite accommodate every inch of Cassandra…

But did Cassandra care?

No. Naturally.

Cassandra moaned breathily and began rocking his hips toward Jizabel's doting mouth. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jizabel willed his gag reflex into numbness… to no avail. He began to choke. Jizabel planted his free hand to Cassandra's thighs, attempting at pulling away, but Cassandra would have none of it.

Cassandra¾ proud, confident, sadistic Cassandra¾grabbed Jizabel's hair and thrust hard into the back of his throat. Jizabel's lungs failed him, and he found himself helpless to Cassandra's will. That is, if he wanted to breathe again. As compliant as he could be without his instincts getting in the way, he relaxed his throat and took the abuse.

This pleased Cassandra to no end.

At last, Cassandra pulled his hips away. Jizabel jerked back, a hand raising to his throat as he gasped for air. His mouth watered, saliva spread across his lips, and his eyes correspondingly shimmered.

Cassandra grinned.

"Good boy."

Good boy. Am I really?

"On the floor," Cassandra ordered, "on all fours. Now."

With a nod, Jizabel pulled himself off of the sofa and dropped down onto the floor as was ordered of him. His palms in front of him and his knees planted into the tile to balance his weight, Jizabel looked to the floor with dead eyes; eyes that were lost to the lust in his veins. Jizabel felt Cassandra positioning himself, and he didn't dare to move.

One quick thrust on Cassandra's part and Jizabel's inner walls stretched to accommodate Cassandra's sizeable erection. Jizabel's eyes fluttered open, his fingers curling into the floor, a strangled cry of delicious pleasure-pain sounding off from his moist lips.

"C- Cassandra…!" Jizabel cried out as his head fell forward, strands of his platinum blond hair falling into silver-gray eyes.

Cassandra grinned, beaming with glee as he pulled back to the tip, then thrust back in to the hilt. Jizabel's inner muscles stretched painfully, more than likely tore in a place or two. The doctor groaned in a contradictory blend of agony and unspeakable pleasure.

"I'll make you scream, Jizabel," Cassandra purred into his ear, nipping it roughly, before he began a solid pace of thrusting within the doctor.

Skin stretched. Slapped together. Jizabel's back became the victim of scratching nails, his hair plagued by a yanking hand. With every thrust into his body, Jizabel felt his carnal desires being fulfilled beyond anything he could have expected. The roughness he craved, the embers in his veins stirred to a roaring fire with Cassandra to stoke it. The man repulsed him, and yet…

It was just so good.

"Cassandra… Ngh… Oh, God… Cassandra…"

Jizabel groaned over and over again, eyes closed, all of his attention drawn to Cassandra's victimizing motions. Every brush to his prostate send a surge up his back and made him crave more, so much more.

"Jizabel," Cassandra groaned against the doctor's neck.

Jizabel's forehead became slicked with perspiration as Cassandra drove harder, faster into his recesses. God help him, it was disgusting to be accepting physical pleasure from a man he despised so. But really, it was either that or go onto the streets and pick up a whore.

At least this way, he didn't have to pay for it.

That was just pathetic.

Then again, was it really so pathetic in comparison to the way he begged for more of Cassandra's sweet torture? Jizabel loved it when Cassandra pulled his hair, loved it when those raking fingernails left red marks all over his back and shoulders. Jizabel loved it when Cassandra bit down on his neck, drew blood, sucked hard enough on his skin to leave red blotches.

And Jizabel especially loved it when Cassandra began to stroke his aching erection.

"Ah… Fuck, yes, Cassandra…"

Jizabel rocked fervently into Cassandra's hand, accepting stimulation from both ends.

"Say my name again," barked the dominant male.

"Cassandra…"

"Louder." Cassandra stroked harder.

"Cassandra…!"

Cassandra craned down, his lips touching Jizabel's ear, whispering heatedly, "Scream for me, my Jizabel."

And that was all it took.

With Cassandra pumping his length like he was, thrusting into him like a man reverting acting only on animalistic urges, Jizabel was sent over the edge.

"C- Oh, Christ… Cassandra!"

With that final cry of pleasure loud enough to resonate off the walls, Jizabel came. His walls tightened, his every muscle winding painfully, his erection pulsing in Cassandra's hand as his release spilled across those doting fingers.

It wasn't long before the tightening of Jizabel's walls that Cassandra followed him in climax. Warm seed jettisoned into the doctor, filled him up, eliciting a heavy groan of completion from Cassandra.

Jizabel panted against the floor, his body wanting so desperately to collapse into slumber now that his lust had been soothed.

Cassandra was the first to move. He pulled himself free of Jizabel's recesses. Jizabel heard Cassandra redressing himself, and afterward, Cassandra helped his current lover to clean up and to dress.

Jizabel said nothing during all of this.

It was only after Jizabel was fully clothed that Cassandra spoke again.

"You're mine now, you know," Cassandra purred as he pecked Jizabel's kiss-swollen lips.

Readjusting his tie around his reddened, slightly sore neck, Jizabel smirked, albeit faintly. Standing with Cassandra's aid, Jizabel pulled his hair back into its neat tie, then turned to leave.

"You're mine," Cassandra repeated in a whisper.

Jizabel chuckled.

"Not yet."