forever is a long time

[chessking]

this is a dropbox for all the inevitable ros and lelouch things that we're going to ultimately play and I'm at work so I can't make this pretty now but

later

also I'm weak I guess

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[originallutece]

[It's always a struggle with Lelouch. Rosalind wouldn't have it any other way, of course, but god, her fledgling is willful. He always has to fight her; he always has to have an answer for everything. She's slept with other vampires before, younger ones, ones who willingly submit and never show an ounce of sadism . . . not him, though. Not at all, and she isn't sure how she feels about that.

In the long term, anyway. In the short term, it's quite enjoyable. Tonight it's enjoyable, when she's hungry for him and he's so conveniently here, sitting at the chess board and playing a game against himself. Other nights, she might join him, alternating between playing against him or offering advice. But today . . .

Today, Rosalind comes up behind him, draping her arms over his shoulders and nipping lightly at the shell of his ear. Her breath is hot, though she hasn't a hope of warming him, not when he's doomed to be eternally cold.]

Come to bed.

[It's a little bit of an order and a little bit of a suggestion, but either way, it's the only thing she's bothering to say. Without another word she rises, heading down the hall, back towards her bedroom. It's a grand thing, massive and filled with books, but his eyes will land on the canopy bed, first and foremost, because that's where Rosalind is. One fang digs into her bottom lip, but she smiles in satisfaction when he appears.]

Did you know, I knew a fledgling once that wouldn't dare break skin on his master's body? He considered it an offense of the highest honor.

[She tips her head.]

You could learn something from that boy.

[She flashes him a smile, lightning quick and sharp, because of course she most emphatically doesn't mean what she's saying.]

[chessking]

[ for the most part, he's got it down to an art form by now, because even when rosalind nips lightly at the shell of his ear, there isn't very much of a visible reaction - he'd heard her approaching a while back, and the only acknowledgment that she receives from him is a slight incline of his head and a subtle relaxing of his shoulders.

who is he to resist a direct order, anyway?

still, he takes a moment to finish up the chess game, putting the white king in check within the next three moves before he rises as well, leaving the scattered pieces on the board before he follows in his sire's footsteps.

for all his wilfulness and his propensity to push against boundaries with some kind of... creative loopholes, he's never really disobeyed her, outright.

when he enters her bedroom, she's already on the bed, and he makes a show of turning his back towards her to close the door shut as he speaks, and it's only when he lets the heavy wood click shut audibly that he turns around, dark amusement in violet eyes, his own head tipped slightly in a mirror image of her own gesture.

he mostly does it because he can.

and lelouch laughs, as he usually does. it's never really been a pretty sound, no, it's always been loud and harsh and skirting on a little bit of insanity. ]

Did he? [ it's a bored drawl, the last traces of refined royalty still clinging to the way he speaks, the way he pulls his shirt over his head and lets the fabric drop to the carpeted floor with a soft sound. he'll pick it up after. ] Yours, or someone else's?

[ lelouch doesn't really give a shit, but then again, there's nothing to be lost with small talk, at least not right now. ]

I hope he's dead.

[ it's said offhandedly, of course, but the edges of his lips are pulled into something a little bit more like a smirk to match her lightning quick smile, and his footsteps when he crosses the short distance from the door to the canopy bed where rosalind is are light, quiet.

like a predator's.

even when his eyes lock onto hers as he climbs onto the bed, close enough to touch, and his fingers skirt over the length of her arm, a light touch that could almost be gentle. ]

I happen to think you look better with them.

[ and it's at this moment that he digs his nails into the skin just above her wrist, hard enough to leave a mark but not quite hard enough to break the skin.

not yet, at least. ]

[originallutece]

That's rude. You ought to be a bit more respectful of your elders.

[Does she mean the fledgling she spoke of or herself? Perhaps both. The former really doesn't matter, not really, but she likes to talk to him about seemingly inconsequential things, just to see how the two of them spin it to mean something else. She likes any opportunity for the two of them to go up against each other in wit and cleverness.

For all her words are airy, she isn't entirely unaffected. She inhales sharply, a breath she doesn't need, as his fingers dig in to her wrist. Quick as a flash her other arm darts up, fingers wrapping around his throat. She doesn't squeeze, not yet, but there's a point to the way her thumb brushes over his pulse.]

Now, now. At least let me get my clothes off before you start bloodying my sheets. Or are you going to be savage and tear them off?

[It's a drawl, and she echoes it by tightening her fingers just once.]