So this is the last installment of Ties That Bind. It was a fun ride and I derived a lot of amusement tinkering with the canon~ I'm sorry if the ending feels a tiny bit rushed - the smut refused to go beyond that no matter how I poked and prodded at it. I'm satisfied with it otherwise, so there's that. Have at!

As Frankenstein worked out the last of the figures on the report in front of him, the door to his office opened and closed soundlessly. He still had three more piles of paperwork left to do, so even if it was Raizel visiting him, Frankenstein did not want to leave the report unfinished. He did raise his head in greeting and reached out to open the window by his side. The wind ruffled the sheets of paper next to him and he only had a few seconds to secure all of them with paperweights. That done, he went back to the long line of expenses that seemed to make no sense.

He supposed he should take that break now and make Raizel some tea. He could use some himself, after all. Thus decided, he was about to put his work down and get up that he noticed that Raizel was fairly close now. Frankenstein looked up, a question in his eyes, and Raizel replied by going on his knees and arranging his legs so he could sit comfortably at Frankenstein's legs. It was sudden enough to still him, allowing whatever Raizel was pulling to go unhindered.

Then he remembered. It had been so long ago that his mind did not catch up right away, but for Raizel it had been very little time. He was taking his accustomed place next to Frankenstein's chair, as he used to back when he was a prisoner – a sham though that might have been. First the chains, now this: what was Frankenstein going to do about this?

Raizel rested his head against Frankenstein's knees and closed his eyes, hands folded in his lap in a comfortable silence.

Frankenstein did not share that sentiment. "What are you doing?"

Raizel did not answer him, other than by letting out a soft, quiet sigh. Frankenstein resisted the urge to put his fingers into the fine dark hair and play with it, to take whatever Raizel was offering, if not for his guilty conscience.

"You shouldn't do this anymore," he said, putting the paper down and sighing himself. "You aren't my prisoner or a trophy."

A frown marred those peaceful features and Raizel opened his eyes to look at him. A pang shot through Frankenstein's heart and he clenched his fists out of Raizel's sight.

"You refuse to touch me unless I touch you first," Raizel remarked, tilting his head. "I wondered if this would make you do it."

Frankenstein placed his hand – and to his credit, it only trembled a little – on Raizel's hair as he'd wanted to and smoothed it down. "You want me to touch you?"

"Yes," Raizel said and pressed his cheek against Frankenstein's trousers, warming the cold fabric with his breath.

"You don't have to sit at my feet for that."

Raizel stood up then, leaving his perch at Frankenstein's feet in a dignified manner and brushed at his clothes. There wasn't any dust, but Raizel hated his clothes getting messed up – which meant he'd taken a seat on the floor completely outside his comfort zone. Frankenstein did not know if he should be touched or upset. He hadn't realised he had been avoiding initiating physical contact with Raizel, but that was a given, wasn't it, given their positions. Raizel might have chosen to humble himself at Frankenstein's feet, might have adorned himself in chains that tied him to Frankenstein, but that did not change what he was.

Frankenstein was simply too unworthy.

"Do I repulse you that much, Frankenstein?"

Frankenstein flinched and Raizel's face became even more troubled than before.

"Is it because of the contract I forced on you?" Raizel continued. "I chained you to myself without a thought about how you must feel."

Frankenstein raised his hand a little and shook his head, trying to indicate his desire to be given a few moments to think. He couldn't quite understand what Raizel was getting at, because his words made no sense whatsoever. Did Raizel perhaps feel guilty over the contract still? He saw it as chaining Frankenstein, then perhaps –

"It's true that at the moment when we made our contract, I wasn't aware of what it entailed. Of course, I knew about contracts from the other Nobles; however, I had no idea about the true contracts. Still," he said, glancing at Raizel's face and hurrying because it seemed like his words were having the opposite effect. "I wanted to be with you, no matter the cost. I wanted you, even if it meant selling my soul." Raizel looked positively stricken. "I haven't regretted a second of the time I've spent bound to you thus. If you can even call it that. I certainly don't. It's made me happier than I've ever dared to think of."

Frankenstein cupped Raizel's hands in his and brushed the chains on his wrists with his thumbs. "Why do you wear these chains? Is it not because you want to be connected to me? Is it not similar if I want to be connected to you?"

Raizel's eyes followed the movement of Frankenstein's thumbs; he wouldn't meet Frankenstein's eyes yet. "It's not the same. What are some physical chains compared to the binding of your soul itself?"

"Indeed, what are the chains that I put on you with malicious intent compared to the fact that you wanted to lay down your life so as to not impose your will on me?" Frankenstein sighed. He couldn't believe that they'd danced around this topic for so long. He was fully aware that the fault lied with him and not Raizel – of course, Raizel had never meant to put such a chasm between the two of them. It was Frankenstein who had put it there and hurt Raizel for it.

"It's disingenuous to compare the two."

Frankenstein agreed. "Yes, however, that doesn't change the fact that the underlying sentiment behind both actions is the same." He smiled and pulled Raizel closer. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot and making you second-guess yourself, Rai."

That made him look up. He rarely used Raizel's chosen name – the name bestowed to him by the humans he loved so – certainly not before when Raizel was something akin to a pet, and not after he'd woken up considering their connection. But Raizel had not wished for a pedestal – what he'd wanted was perhaps a lot simpler, humbler than that, and Frankenstein had failed to realise it.

Frankenstein stood up and wrapped his arm around Raizel's frame, taking his chin with his other hand and tilting his face. Raizel looked at him, puzzled still, and Frankenstein covered his lips with his own, swallowing a soft sound. For all his brilliance, Frankenstein had become blind to the most obvious thing because of the guilt that plagued him. That meant he would have to rectify it, and he wished to do it as soon as possible. He broke the kiss, and caressed the edge of Raizel's lips with his fingers.

"The truth is, I'm scared to touch you," Frankenstein confessed, resting his forehead against Raizel's. "The last time I did, you disappeared. I know you had to do your duty and protect innocent lives, but the idea festered in my mind nonetheless."

"I have no desire to leave you again, Frankenstein. We have both wrapped ourselves in chains from the fear of separation, not realising what the other wanted." Raizel's voice was calm now, soft, and his hands rested gently over Frankenstein's chest.

When they kissed again, it was Frankenstein who moved first, cupping Raizel's face in his palms and cradling it as gently as he could. Their breaths intermingled and their noses brushed against each other when he broke away, taking a few moments to take stock of what he had in his arms. Raizel was pliant and willing, the desire for Frankenstein written on his face so plainly adorned with a healthy blush and downturned eyes. Separating himself from Raizel was difficult, but necessary. He did not let go of Raizel's hand, however, as they walked back to his room.

The house was quiet, considering it was night time: Regis was probably asleep and Seira was either up studying or doing some additional reading Frankenstein had assigned to her. Muzaka was out to oversee some of the outlier parts of their territory to make sure the Union was keeping itself in check. Ashleen was due to return in a couple of weeks. The children he'd rescued from the Union might come to visit him soon as well, and he'd make sure to introduce Raizel to him. He knew it made Raizel happy to be surrounded by people, and they were all good people despite all that had happened to them.

None of that could have been possible if Raizel hadn't saved Frankenstein, hadn't tried to sacrifice his life for everyone's sake. He'd stopped Frankenstein from becoming a part of the Union by surrendering to him and staying by his side so he wouldn't have to suffer from the lack of power. Even if it was difficult, he'd given Frankenstein the strength – and that did not mean the strength of the contract – to do things the right way. Raizel's unyielding goodness was what had changed Frankenstein, and for the years to come without Raizel, he'd lived with the stories of the Noblesse's kindness and gentle soul. Raizel had no idea how well-loved he was, because showing emotions wasn't something the Nobles routinely engaged in.

Even so, if nobody ever told him, Raizel had no way of knowing how precious he was and wasn't that why he was always so careless with his life? So uncaring of what became of him as long it helped protect people. It was all right though, because Frankenstein wanted to make sure Raizel knew just how loved he was. It was a vow he took again and again because no matter what he did, it always felt inadequate to him, and that insecurity on his part always affected Raizel.

He pulled Raizel into the room, shutting the door behind him. In the soft glow of his nightlamp, Raizel's skin was luminous and unearthly crimson eyes like dark pools he could drown in if he wasn't careful – but he had no need to care about that right now. He drew Raizel closer, the pounding of heart almost embarrassingly loud, and kissed him again and again. The flow of time for both of them was inherently different, made even more so by the fact that he'd spent over eight centuries loving Raizel whereas for Raizel it had been almost an instant before he saw Frankenstein again. In those intervening years, Raizel's existence had crystallised into an ideal for Frankenstein: almost untouchable, divine, one he could always feel inside himself but never could touch. Raizel had slumbered on in his coffin and no matter how much Frankenstein wished he wouldn't wake Raizel, making him even more remote.

So then, to have Raizel like this, alive and awake in his arms, Frankenstein did not know how to name the emotion inside his heart.

"Frankenstein." Raizel's breath whispered against his cheek as they pulled away from the kiss.

It wasn't just a name; it was a plea, and Frankenstein responded right away. He tugged at Raizel's shirt and cravat, divesting him of them swiftly and then did the same for himself. He pushed Raizel against the wall, back first, and pressed his lips against the curve of Raizel's neck. He slotted his leg between Raizel's, parting them and pushed against the growing arousal he found there. His heart thudded painfully in his chest – how had he ignored this for so long? But cursing or lamenting the fact wouldn't make it less stupid, so he did what he could.

He mouthed at the soft skin below Raizel's jaw, pressing kisses down to his collarbone and bit at his neck, drawing a soft gasp of surprise. The skin bloomed into a striking shade of red under his mouth and he worried at it until Raizel's hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers fluttering nervously on Frankenstein's overheated skin. The touch grounded him. He released Raizel's neck from his grasp and kissed languidly his way up to that elegant mouth.

Raizel's lips were already swollen a little from the kisses they'd shared before, and his mouth was still warm and inviting and Frankenstein wasted no time in claiming it again. He slipped his fingers into that fine, silk soft dark hair and tilted Raizel's head to delve deeper into the mouth that still tasted of the honey from the tea Frankenstein served him. The knowledge was a thrill of pleasure down his spine, like every time and always.

Raizel bucked into him, rubbing himself against Frankenstein's leg. His fingers dug harder into Frankenstein's shoulder, all composure forgotten – and wasn't that beautiful? Raizel, always so dignified and prim and proper, reduced to a heated mess of want and desire against Frankenstein's skin. The cold, distant loveliness of his face, so perfectly shaped as if carved into marble – slowly melted by the very human love Frankenstein had for him, and to be loved in return. It made him look human and Frankenstein treasured it beyond words.

But then Raizel was never cold, was never ungentle: to compare him to marble was to overlook his nature. No, perhaps it was better to say that Raizel's love was very alien in nature – who else could love someone like Frankenstein so steadfastly – but it was humanised by touch and passion. He'd had a chance to observe Nobles when he'd lived in Lukedonia, had a chance to see how they went about their lives – his long lifespan allowed him such a thing – and he'd never really seen affection or love expressed thusly between them. So either Raizel was different from them, or he'd adopted the human ways for Frankenstein because it pleased him so. Frankenstein would have doubted how much of it was for his sake alone, but then Raizel was very honest with his likes and dislikes, so this wasn't a lie.

Frankenstein shook his head: he'd let his mind wander too much. He pressed himself closer to Raizel so that their erections – still clothed – brushed against each other and Raizel rested his head on Frankenstein's shoulder. They rocked against each other, gently at first, and then growing frantic in pace as pleasure mounted higher. Maybe he would have liked to do this in bed, where Raizel would be a lot more comfortable than pressed to a cold hard wall, where he could have taken all the time in the world to rediscover that precious body, but he couldn't wait. He really couldn't wait to have Raizel against him, hot and wanting, clothing stained from the need – and he really should have taken their pants off too – like this.

The responses Raizel gave were nostalgic, from a far off dream that he sometimes imagined never happened. He could never the sweet sounds that had spilled from Raizel's throat that night, the way his body had moved fluidly with Frankenstein's, the way his skin had flushed from exertion and bliss mingled in one happy mixture. He felt time had embellished the loveliness of that time, making it somehow more exquisite and perfect than it had been. And yet, as he held Raizel closed to him, heard soft, breathy noises he made next to Frankenstein's ear, shuddered and clutched at Frankenstein – his memories couldn't hold a candle to it. Each time he felt Raizel move and reach for him, Frankenstein knew he wasn't going to last long. Not at all.

They both come in their clothes, not far off from each other, and Frankenstein's pulse beat a loud drumbeat in his ears as the world faded from his vision. They slumped against each other, giddy but spent, and utterly boneless from the relief of coming home after a long time apart.

Afterwards Frankenstein took Raizel to his bed, undressed, and curled against each other to sleep, to rest and to forget. And when he woke up in the morning, Raizel was still there and smiled sweetly at him, pressed a good morning kiss to Frankenstein's lips which tasted like happiness.