-Lucifer's Angel-

"No need to hesitate, mon ami." Francis whispered in the other's ear, his cold breath sending shivers down his spine. Embracing the personification of death in his arms, Arthur sighed huskily. He rested his head on the surprisingly solid chest of his partner for the evening. The vampire's fangs throbbed, the need of sinking them into human flesh growing by the moment. He knew he was wasting his time in that respect- he knew there was nothing to gain from this figure. Yet, he found he couldn't pull away… His lips pressed against the other's neck, instinct guiding him to the inexistent pulse.

"You won't find much." The Frenchman chuckled, his body vibrating teasingly against Arthur. Said vampire scowled up at the other, baring his teeth. It didn't seem to faze Francis, though. He was death, after all. Instead of flinching, he pressed closer, breath baited with curiosity. What would the other dare? How far would he go? This was one creature he couldn't claim as his own. One he couldn't tame and whisk away. His equal.

Immortal.

Arthur licked his lips before returning to the deathly-white skin. His tongue darted out and created a damp trail starting from the other's jaw, leading lower to a spot just above his collarbone. The wet expanse shone in the moonlight, the sight triggering a jolt of excitement in the vampire. The damp muscle lingered on that spot, twirling and digging into the skin. Francis let out a low moan, trying his best to disguise it as a sigh. But Arthur wasn't fooled- he knew an express of pleasure when he heard one. It was his expertise. His actions… pleasured death.

Either death was no stronger than a mere mortal, or the vampire had found a sensitive spot. Ah, perfect. Beaming with satisfaction, Arthur placed a supportive hand on the small of the Frenchman's back, ready to catch him if he faltered. The hunger and curiosity burned through him- what vital liquid kept Lucifer's angel going?

The vampire felt delicate arms wrap around him, their presence no more than a wisp of air. They encouraged him forward. Francis tilted his head just so, granting him full access. Blond strands fell on the blushing but freezing face as the Frenchman shifted in his arms, fingers gripping his back. "Venez sur," he whispered seductively, using the voice that lured the suicidal into his depths. "Come on, indulge yourself."

And indulge himself he did. Placing a leg between the fallen angel's, Arthur positioned himself, fangs withdrawn. Selecting what looked like a soft and vulnerable expanse, the vampire angled his head accordingly and dipped in. Francis closed his eyes, shuddering with the anticipation.

Sharp fangs pierced the fragile skin as Arthur sunk his teeth into the Frenchman slowly, gently. He sucked hard, waiting with baited breath to see what his actions would yield.

Dry, wet. Cold, burning. Sweet, sour. The mix of contradictions overwhelmed the vampire, causing him to gasp and pull out. Twin marks marred the otherwise perfect skin where he had bitten him, an unknown clear liquid trickling down from the wound. Francis, seeing the surprised and confused look in the other's eyes, laughed. His laughter was both chilling and alluring, drawing one in while wishing with all his might to pull away and run. "Not used to such strong sensations, oui? And you seemed to me as one who could handle it…"

Anger flashed in emerald eyes as a low growl escaped his lips. "I'll drink every bloody last drop if I have to."

Death was about to respond when Arthur renewed his advances, sinking his teeth back into the marred skin. Francis gasped and hissed lowly, his fingers digging into the vampire's shoulder blades. He hadn't been expecting such force. The Brit on his part sniggered and began sucking experimentally, sampling the taste again.

The rich and thick essence entered his mouth once more. It played with his taste buds, changing its texture and flavor with every sip. It fascinated the vampire- it was not like anything he had ever drunk before. Given some thought, it resembled dry white wine. And just like wine, Arthur slowly became drunk on death's taste, addicted. He just… couldn't stop.

He could feel the other's breath turning more and more shallow by the minute. The force Francis applied on his shoulders with his fingers weakened, turning from an aggressive embrace to simply hanging on. He couldn't see, but he guessed the French fallen angel had lost whatever coloring he had, mouth open ajar in mixed ecstasy and pain.

It intrigued him. Could death… die?

What would happen if he drunk every last drop, just like he swore to do? What would be the consequences? Could he stop, if he wanted to? …Did he want to?

"S-stop…" Came the soft plea. At first, Arthur couldn't even hear it. But after it was repeated a couple of times, the vampire snapped back into attention. His grip on death's figure tightened, reassuring Francis. Of what, he wasn't sure. But it didn't seem to pacify the Frenchman, as he began to weakly resist in his arms. Oh, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. He got what he wanted. Always. And right now, he wanted Francis.

The other seemed to relinquish his efforts and sighed in resignation, slumping against the strengthening form in front of him. Arthur hummed in approval and took a longer sip than usual, enjoying the delectable tang. That is, enjoyed the taste, before he was roughly pushed away.

He fell back with a loud thud on the marble floor, exclaiming in surprise mixed pain. He could have broken his arm, in any normal situation. He looked up at the one who had pushed him, glaring at death with all his might.

Francis was standing up, a shaking hand supporting him pressed against the wall. His pale blond hair was strewn about, some strands veiling his eyes. The pure white suit he was wearing- contrasting all beliefs that death wore black- was damp from sweat. Francis continued staring down at the vampire, panting slightly.

"Was it too hard to stop?" The fallen angel questioned the other dully, not caring that Arthur had already risen to his feet, approaching his with a dangerous gleam in his eye. The vampire did not respond, only grew closer and closer. Francis, in his weariness, did nothing to stop the other when he closed in on him. He trapped him between his arms, pressing the Frenchman's back to the wall. "You aren't going anywhere this time." Arthur growled, cupping the other's chin in his palm.

Francis met his eyes for a brief second. "Non." And with that, he disappeared, leaving a baffled Englishman behind. He blinked at the space that the other had just occupied, not registering that it was now, painfully, vacant.

For that is how it is in life. No matter how much you wanted it, death always finds a way to evade you. No matter how seductive you are, no matter how aggressive… You are doomed to stay immortal.

Forever.

Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;

So, happy Halloween? ':D I personally don't celebrate it, but Algebra class was so boring... And the initial scene so tempting... That I couldn't help myself XD Considering all this hype about the character's costumes this year as well, how could I resist writing for a combination of two of my favorite things? Hetalia and vampires? XD

I'm not really sure what I wanted to say with this piece. Consider it something weird and thought-provoking, oui? Oh, about Francis... His costume is a ghost. So I kind of converted him into death's messenger? ^^' Forgive me *bows*

Anyway, have fun trick or treating or however you plan to spend the night! Review, if you have the time? OWO'

-Hanna