Giftfic for BFHwantsblood, who requested a submissive Frankenstein.

The collar clicked shut around his neck, and Frankenstein melted. "Master," he breathed, lowering himself from his kneeling position to lay his head on Master's lap.

His Master lowered a hand to stroke his hair, and his soul wrapped around Frankenstein, moving just so to draw little hums of pleasure from him.

Humans had co-evolved with nobles – and even before they became 'humans' there were advantages to being a contracted animal. Every lifeform on earth with a brain developed enough for a contract derived some pleasure from a noble's touch – provided they were willing to be touched, instinct registered an unwanted touch as an attack. Frankenstein had enhanced himself so he would be more sensitive to the brush of a noble's mind against his own, better able to sense them and fight off mind control. He hadn't known until he made the contract that the touch of a noble's soul could feel good, and since Frankenstein was so very sensitive it felt so very, very good, his own soul twining around his master's. Frankenstein's body might look peaceful and still, waiting tamely for his master's word, but his eyes were half-lidded as his soul pressed against his master's with wild abandon, sure his master would permit that liberty. For was not Frankenstein his?

Yes, his, always his: the thought intoxicated him, made him kiss Master's thigh because bending down to kiss his feet would have meant removing his head from Master's lap. Another pang of joy tore through him and he bowed his head to do just that, tasting the leather he'd carefully cured and shaped to fit Master's feet himself. The thought of leather-working reminded him of the collar that surrounded his neck and bound him to Master and he bowed his head, pressing his forehead to the tops of Master's shoes and breathing in that scent.

Why was it that he, who had fought so long and so hard to force nobles and those who intended to subjugate humanity to recognize that humans were inferior to no one found such trembling joy in submission?

"Frankenstein," Master called gently, and Frankenstein rose to his knees again, let Raizel beckon him to lay his head down on Master's lap again so Master could resume his caresses. Frankenstein relaxed into the touch.

The chance to relax, that was part of it. To not need to prove anything to anyone, or to know that he already had. That Master already found him worthy, considered him precious, and it was alright. To let go.

Master was watching over him, Master would take responsibility for what happened. Master would protect him, even though Frankenstein wanted to whimper at the thought of Master spending his precious life.

He wanted to whimper, so he did, and when Raizel's hand came to soothe him by caressing his face he licked at a finger, just because he wanted to, because it was proof of Master's kindness, proof that Master was here with him and would not let him feel alone.

He'd sacrificed his freedom so that Master would keep him there. Keep Frankenstein from leaving, keep him at his side. Like this he was no longer alone, filled with Master's presence in his heart and his very soul. The touches kept him grounded in the here and now, not flying off into recriminations about his failures, all the people who had died, all those he hadn't managed to protect.

He could cry for them. He could mourn them as they deserved, and Master would let him, even let Frankenstein's tears dampen his pants even though it so bothered Master for his clothing to be mussed up. Because Frankenstein's feelings were important to Master, and Master would want him to let go, to release his emotions, to submit to his own feelings as well as Master's will.

Frankenstein had summoned Dark Spear today. Broken the seal and all Master cared about was that it would give him nightmares, not his disobedience.

Master, he thought, trembling. His kind Master who was here to wake him from his nightmares, guard him while he slept. Because Frankenstein could put himself utterly in the power of another living soul and feel safe for it.

The same way he felt free to express his emotions, to let water gather in the corners of his eyes because he was so grateful for Master. Because he had been alone for so long, before he found Master. Because Dark Spear was in so much pain and there was nothing he could do for them, he had failed to exterminate the organization that did this to them in time to save them. Even his own work was used to spread plagues and kill them to bind them to this cursed fate!

He got to choose a Master, but Dark Spear had no choices but the Union and him. They had wanted to be used, but when he decided to seal them for centuries they had no choice in the matter, the poor dead forced to be quiet even though they were denied peace.

He cried for them and Master stroked his hair gently, so gently, as though he was made of porcelain, a precious thing. His body was the precious vessel of a shining soul to Master, who cared for him so. Frankenstein would never have to doubt: he could feel it in Master's very soul, twined too close to his for lies. He never had to fear betrayal, so he could show Master everything, share with him everything. There was no need for doubt or fear any more than for loneliness. He was free of them.

Here, collared, at the feet of a noble master, he was free. With Master's soul in his he was whole and it tore him apart, the joy of it, the shining perfection. He couldn't deserve this, no one could, but Master still gave it to him, found him worthy and thought Master was the unworthy one and Frankenstein loved him so, a love so powerful there was naught he could do to fight it, only bow before the force of it.

Only kneel at the feet of his Master.