Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/950064.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Trinity_Blood
  Relationship:
      Isaak_von_Kampfer/Dietrich_von_Lohengrin
  Character:
      Isaak_Fernand_von_Kampfer, Dietrich_von_Lohengrin, Cain_Nightlord
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Heavy_BDSM, Bondage, Oral_Sex, Anal
      Sex
  Series:
      Part 5 of Orden_Tales
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-01 Words: 3925
****** Shadow Play ******
by Umeko
Summary
     Isaak decides to teach Dietrich a lesson after his latest fiasco in
     Byzantium. This is the follow-up on the scene in manga volume 9 after
     Cain and Isaak punish Dietrich for the Nightlords fiasco and daring
     to sass back at Isaak.
Notes
     Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me.
     Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be
     considered canon.
     This fic was originally posted on fanfiction.net and has since been
     removed for explicit content.
“No, please, don’t! NO!” Slender legs kicked impotently as he fought against
the Crusnik’s inhuman strength. “NO!” Coffee-brown eyes widened in horror as
the raven-haired mage approached. He could feel the heat, the promise of pain.
Closer… closer… until his eye watered from the glowing tip of the cigarillo
primed to blind him.
 
A low chuckle and the smell of burning upholstery told him he got lucky, this
time. Relief flushed through him as the Crusnik released his victim. Dietrich
slid off the Crusnik’s lap, off the armchair into a heap on the floor. He could
feel warm telltale stickiness through the seat of his pants where Mein Herr had
pressed against him. He knew what it was. How disgusting…  Cain always got off
torturing his subordinates. Even now, a foot pressed hard against his chest as
he sprawled at his tormenter’s feet.
 
Play dead. Someone once said that when faced with a bear, one should play dead.
Dietrich hoped it worked with Mein Herr and Isaak. Mein Herr would soon tire
and go find some other Terran to torture. To his relief, the almost unbearable
pressure on his chest finally lifted. He hoped it meant Mein Herr was gone.
 
“Playing dead doesn’t always work, boy…” Isaak. Cruel fingers wound themselves
in brown hair and yanked him none too gently up from the floor. At least Mein
Herr was gone.
 
Those coffee-brown eyes Isaak was so fond of fluttered open. Isaak slipped an
arm around Dietrich, both to steady him and pull him close. “Time for a
debriefing,” Isaak chuckled and slipped his hand towards the small of his
protégé’s back. “About your performance recently, you have been a let-down in
Istvan and that recent debacle in the Empire… You have a knack for
underestimating little girls, don’t you? Or were you distracted by something
else… like this?”
 
Dietrich winced when Isaak shoved him back against the wall roughly and ground
his hips against his lithe frame. Isaak was immediately rewarded by a gasp.
 
“How many others have screwed you, Dietrich? Twenty? Fifty? Or have you lost
count?” Gloved hands spun Dietrich around to face the wall and a hand forced
its way into the front of Dietrich’s pants. “Slut. You are nothing but a sick
little whore, carrying on with Endres, Alfred and half a dozen others…”
 
“You made me one, Isaak… you did me first…” Dietrich braced himself against the
wall, forehead pressed into the cool wall. “I hate you … You make me sick…”
 
“Liar, your body says otherwise…” Isaak hissed and tore Dietrich’s pants down
to his ankles, freeing his aching erection.
 
8 years ago, Londonium
 
“Isaac? Are you in?” William Walter Wordsworth knocked on the door of his
classmate’s apartment. The lecture was starting soon and Isaac had been missing
way too many lectures. William was a little concerned about his fellow
student’s well-being. Isaac was very pale the last time they met in the hall.
It must be hard studying and taking care of a younger brother, never mind if
young Dean Butler was surprisingly mature for his tender age. Then again, Isaac
was not known to attend lessons before sunset, presumably due to his day job.
 
“Dean?” Perhaps that unsettlingly mature brother of Isaac’s was in. “May I have
my psychology textbook back, please?” William asked and rapped on the door
again. He swore he heard something, or maybe it was just the creaking of
Butlers’ shabby apartment block. Dean always promised to return William the
books he had borrowed from him, but he never did. With the finals coming,
William needed his textbooks.
 
Satisfied both Butlers were out, William left.
 
Seated in his armchair in the dimly-lit apartment, Isaac Butler, better known
in the Orden as Isaak Fernand von Kampfer, nonchalantly clapped a hand over his
‘brother’s’ mouth to stifle the boy’s cries of pain. His other hand gripped a
bony hip, lifting Dietrich up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Straddling
Isaak, Dietrich gripped the armrests of the chair until his knuckles turned
white, silent tears running down his pale cheeks as his body was pummelled by
Isaak’s bulk…His body was too young,  too fragile for what Isaak was doing to
him.
 
 “Good boy,” Isaak whispered into Dietrich’s ear as he gave a final thrust into
the boy’s bleeding body.
 
“Isaak, it hurts…” Dietrich gasped into the hand still clapped onto his mouth.
He didn’t want to confirm what that hot stickiness filling him and running down
his thighs was, even though he had a good suspicion. 
 
“You’ll get used to it. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy it…” Sated, Isaak roughly
shoved Dietrich off his lap and lit a cigarillo. He took a drag as he admired
Dietrich’s naked, bruised body. “A body as beautiful as yours is only good for
this. Now lick this mess up.” He gestured to his groin. On his knees, Dietrich
shivered as he sucked off the blood and seed.
 
“Are you going to fuck me senseless the way you did Dean Butler for speaking to
the neighbours? I bet having your kid brother discussing philosophy and
politics with your classmates is very embarrassing for you.” Dietrich ground
his hips suggestively against Isaak. For the first few years, sex with Isaak
was immensely painful and humiliating. In some perverted way, it had become
almost enjoyable as their twisted relationship continued.
 
Dietrich knew his baiting Isaak would end up with him writhing under Isaak… and
he was looking forward to it.    
 
“Bitch.”
 
Reading Dietrich’s intentions, Isaak relinquished his grip and stepped away. He
was not going to give in to Dietrich. If Dietrich wanted it, Isaak was
determined to deny him. It would be delightful to simply sit back and watch
Dietrich squirm the way he did earlier. Isaak hid a smile at the memory of a
frustrated Dietrich wriggling about in his chair while the Duke of Tigris
rekindled a past affair with the late Radu. One hand keeping control of his
puppet as the Duke made passionate love to it in a distant Byzantium study, one
hand groping down the front of his pants. Cheeks flushed from the effort of
trying to sate his lust and maintain control…
 
“You are so desperate, Di. You can’t live without having someone doing you,
could you?” Isaak grumbled. “Go run along and animate some corpse, then screw
yourself on it the way you did with Radu.”
 
“Or I could try seducing you, like I did Gyula…” Dietrich hissed. He let his
tie fall to the floor and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I made him forget about
his dear wife… He was a considerate lover, not rough like Radcon or Alfred… So,
Magician, would you prefer doing it in a nice soft bed, in the backseat of your
limo or outdoors in an alley?” With deliberate slowness, Dietrich let his shirt
slip off his frame. He now stood naked before his mentor.
 
“I am not interested. Go find someone else to seduce,” Isaak made a show of
nonchalantly stubbing out his cigarillo in an astray. Rutting about in the back
of his car? Now he knew the origin of those suspicious stains he found in his
car after the Terran volunteered to drive Count Alfred to the train station…
 He hated the notion of his Dietrich romping about with that simpleton.
 
“Poor old Endres taught me some interestingly kinky games during our weekend
getaway in Venice. We would have invited you for a threesome but you were laid
up after that disaster in Rome… maybe I could show you some…” Two could play at
this game. If Isaak was determined to leave him wanting, Dietrich would just
have to make Isaak want him.
 
“Or I could summon my minions to rape you in ways you never imagined possible…”
Isaak made an obscure gesture in the air. Tentacles of shadow surrounded his
victim. Dietrich’s brown eyes widened in horror as it dawned on him that he
might have overstepped his boundaries for the second time that night. The
shadows oozed closer. “And I will have the whole event captured on video for my
future enjoyment, since I can hardly expect you to be alive after they are
done,” Isaak smirked.
 
“Isaak, please! Don’t… I’m sorry…” Dietrich gibbered and backed against the
wall, eyes teary with fear. Those fear-filled coffee-brown eyes sent a tremor
of desire to Isaak’s already aching groin. Those lovely eyes never failed to
arouse him. Playtime, Di. And let’s see who the puppet is now…
 
“NO!” Dietrich screamed as the shadows engulfed him at Isaak’s command. 
 
Cold, icy tendrils engulfed him. They almost seemed to freeze his very blood.
It was not the first time Isaak used his shadows as a portal to transport
Dietrich to his bed, but it was the first time Dietrich lacked his mentor to
cling to for reassurance. Darkness, then light. He was no longer in the
computer control room. Instead, he was surrounded by the familiarity of what
Isaak had once referred to as his private den of decadence. Isaak often took
him there when in the mood for an extended romp.
 
Relieved, the Terran looked about him. No sign of shadow demons. The sunken
Turkish-style bath in the centre was filled with scented water graced with a
flotilla of rose petals. Scented candles burned in strategic alcoves and lamps
hung from the ceiling. A bottle of expensive red wine sat in an ice-bucket by
the Oriental-style divan near the bath. Isaak had definitely been expecting
some action from him. But there was no sign of the Panzer Magier. Feeling a bit
chilly, Dietrich took a silken dressing robe from the closet and threw it over
his nakedness.
 
He selected an erotic picture book from the selection available on the den’s
bookcase and walked over to the large four-poster bed that dominated the far
corner of the room. Sitting down on the edge of the velvet coverlet, he pored
over the pictures of cavorting couples. How many times had they rutted here?
How many times had Isaak taken him on the cushions of this very bed, in the
bath or on the divan, or even up against the mahogany bookcase?
 
“Nice to see you’re brushing up on your skills…” Isaak. Dietrich had not heard
him enter. Still dressed in his uniform, the Magician sat on the divan across
the room, watching him.
 
“You were expecting me, weren’t you, Isaak. You need me, more than I need you…”
Lulled by the familiar surroundings, Dietrich’s bravado was returning. He
walked slowly towards Isaak, deliberately letting his dressing gown slip open.
Purposely, he waded through the sunken bath that stood between them. The
dampness on his skin glistened in the candlelight. Isaak took a thoughtful drag
on his cigarillo and snapped his fingers. Music filled the den. Isaak moved
aside so that he could sit beside him.
 
“Drink.”
 
Dietrich took the bottle offered and took a generous swallow of the rich
claret. He managed another mouthful before Isaak pulled him in for a fierce
kiss. Isaak forced his tongue between those sweet lips, tasting the wine in
Dietrich’s mouth. The kiss dragged on until Dietrich felt light-headed. His
fumbling fingers worked at loosening his mentor’s tie. Isaak suddenly slapped
them away, broke the kiss and got up.
 
“Not so fast, my puppet. You need to be taught who’s in charge here.”
 
“Isaak…” Dietrich made to protest. “In the Orden, Mein Herr is our master. The
next in the chain of command is me,” Isaak continued as if lecturing a slow
pupil. “And you, a mere Magister, are below me. Keep that in mind. You will do
as your betters command you and I now order you to…amuse yourself while I
undress… I’ll be watching.”
 
“What?” Dietrich gasped. “You pervert…” Still, he touched himself. Isaak was in
a dangerous mood. Already, Dietrich caught glimpses of the dreaded shadows from
the corner of his eyes.
 
“Surely you could do better, Di. Or should I get my minions to assist you? I
read death can be almost orgasmic,” Isaak taunted. Dietrich gritted his teeth,
closed his eyes and continued working himself. He had done it on numerous
occasions in his workshop over his AutoJaggers, he had done it while
controlling Radu’s corpse… but he had not done it with the threat of imminent
violent death hovering over his shoulder. Isaak watched as the colour rose in
Dietrich’s cheeks and soft pants emitted from his lips. He could not hold out
any longer.
 
“Stop. You are not to touch yourself further. Not to come before I command
you.” Biting back a protest, Dietrich opened his eyes. Light-headed from the
wine and aching with lust, he saw Isaak was sitting in the bath, water up to
his chest. Black raven tresses swirled in among the red petals like his shadow
minions. Or did those demons lurk under the calm surface? Strains from the
opera Lohengrin filled the eerily still den. Dietrich recognized it as the
Bridal March.
 
“Come.” Dietrich stepped forward, letting his robe slide off his shoulders and
onto the mosaic tiles. Isaak reached out a hand which Dietrich took, allowing
himself to be gently guided down the steps into the warm water. With surprising
gentleness, he was guided into position, straddling Isaak. Dietrich placed both
hands on Isaak’s shoulders. Isaak kissed him gently, teasing his lips apart and
delving into his mouth. In response, Dietrich ran his hands lightly over
Isaak’s muscular chest. His lips tingled with the increasing passion of their
kisses.
 
The music changed to the Ride of the Valkyries and the assault began. Grabbing
Dietrich by the hips, Isaak thrust his bulk completely in, making Dietrich
scream with shock.
 
“Look at me. Disobey me and be punished,” Isaak ordered as he pounded violently
and mercilessly into Dietrich. A faint tinge of blood from the Terran’s badly
torn body was mixing into the bathwater, the scent egging Isaak to increase the
tempo of his assault.
 
Cowering, Dietrich looked into Isaak’s eyes, seeing the promise of unbridled
cruelty. He was being torn apart inside. The warm water did little to relieve
his pain. Isaak’s claws raked the flesh of his back, hips and buttocks,
lacerated skin freeing more blood into the water. He became aware of a more
pressing problem.  The burning friction of Isaak’s thrusts was driving his
already aroused body over the edge. “Isaak, I can’t stand it…”
 
Too late, Dietrich’s release came too soon. Isaak’s reaction was immediate.
With a growl, Isaak hit him across the face. Dietrich felt a tooth cut his lip.
Before he could recover, fingers seized his hair, nearly ripping it from his
scalp as Isaak shook him roughly. “Naughty boy, I did not say you could come.”
 
Dietrich barely caught a breath of air before his head was forced below the
surface. Submerged completely under Isaak’s magnificent body, the rutting
continued. Dietrich took in the red-tinged water, red petals floating above his
head. His lungs burned for air. The wine he had consumed earlier weighed down
his limbs. He clawed and flailed about weakly. Darkness was starting to creep
into his vision. He was dying…
 
Isaak did not need to come up for air. He watched his victim’s antics in morbid
fascination. Panic and sheer fear of drowning graced those coffee-coloured eyes
as brown strands floated about a pale, panic-stricken face. Dietrich’s body
shook under his, around his as the spasms took over. Death was orgasmic, in a
twisted way, Isaak reflected as he finally poured himself into Dietrich. But he
was not done with this little plaything yet. Couldn’t let him drown, could he?
 
Dietrich spluttered and retched. Air. Sweet, merciful air! He took great gulps
of the stuff. Half-drowned but he was still alive. Isaak propped him up against
the side of the bath, stroking his back, his face with mock tenderness. “Isaak,
you fucking bastard! You almost killed me!” Dietrich snarled. His insides
ached. His body was bruised from bumping against the bottom of the bath. He had
taken in a few mouthfuls of water.
 
“Dietrich, Dietrich… no talking back to your superiors. Or haven’t you learnt
your lesson yet? I see you must be further disciplined…” Isaak purred and
snapped his fingers. Shadow minions! Dietrich thrashed about in the water.
Isaak’s demon-like minions seized him by the arms, dragging him out of the
water. Shrieking and cursing, he was hauled roughly over to the cavernous bed.
 
Dressed in his favourite black silk dressing gown, Isaak admired the slender
body sprawled on the bed. Dietrich’s arms were yanked above his head, the
wrists chained together and fastened to the headboard. Bruises were starting to
show on ivory pale skin and blood from wounds inflicted earlier stained the
sheets. Dietrich had been a small child. Now, he was still slight-built, almost
fragile. He smiled as Dietrich screamed abuse into his gag. He kicked out when
Isaak approached the bed, landing a glancing hit on Isaak’s thigh. Isaak
summoned two tendrils of shadow to restrain Dietrich’s ankles.
 
“Naughty boys who kick like a mule will be whipped like a mule.” Dietrich
screamed and bucked as Isaak lashed him with a riding crop. “And this is for
making a mess in my limo,” Isaak added almost as an afterthought. He took the
lighted cigarillo from his lips and pressed the burning tip onto Dietrich’s
inner thigh. “If you disobey me one more time, I will cut you here…” Isaak
cupped him between his legs. “And stick this up you.”
 
The brown-haired youth shuddered at the sight of his tormentor loading a
pistol. Isaak allowed himself to savour the terror on Dietrich’s eyes before
putting the pistol aside. “Understand?” Dietrich nodded and breathed a sigh of
relief.
 
“Now, now, Di… Drink.” Propping him up on the cushions, Isaak removed the gag
and pressed a brandy bottle to Dietrich’s bruised lips. Dietrich turned away.
He already had too much wine. “Drink or I will pour this inside you the other
way…” Isaak climbed onto the bed and placed a knee against Dietrich’s groin.
Dietrich reluctantly took a swallow of the fiery liquid. He’d be sick… And
Isaak would definitely set his monsters loose on him for throwing up in bed.
 
“Good boy. You are learning.” Isaak tapped a tear-streaked cheek with the crop.
He brushed away damp hair plastered to his lover’s face. “Some other rules you
must be taught. First, I hate sharing my things, which happens at this point of
time, to include you. If I ever hear of you carrying on with someone else
behind my back again, I will personally shoot you in the ass.”
 
“Isaak, I’m sorry…” Dietrich started. Isaak pinched his lips together roughly.
“However, I understand that a slut like you have needs and appetites. You may
continue your pastimes with my permission, but only if you clean yourself
thoroughly a wire brush afterwards. I do not wish to smell someone else’s
stench on you. Secondly, no more rutting in my car, unless it is with me.”
Dietrich nodded and was rewarded by Isaak freeing his sore lips and stroking
his hair.
 
“Third, I hate being lied to, especially from the likes of a Terran whore like
you. You are always sprouting sweet lies from those lips… which can be put to
much better use about now…” Isaak touched himself. He removed the chain from
the headboard and yanked. Dietrich cried out as his arms were almost wrenched
from their sockets. The icy grip of the shadows on his ankles vanished as the
tentacles slid away.  Isaak pulled him in for a harsh kiss but did not unchain
him.  “What do you want now, Di?” 
 
“I-I want… you….inside…” Dietrich gasped. Isaak was touching his body in that
made him crave sex with the man despite the violence and humiliation he had
inflicted. “Good boy.” Isaak gave him another rough kiss before pushing his
head down to where the black silk parted. Isaak dug his fingers into Dietrich’s
scalp, drawing blood and forcing him to take his length in his mouth. “Suck.”
Dietrich immediately started sucking, his hands pressed against the older man’s
thigh for support as Isaak started thrusting down his throat.
 
Isaak laughed when Dietrich choked on one particularly violent thrust. Dietrich
choked back a sob and pondered biting down on the thing choking him. “Bite and
I will make you wish for death,” Isaak growled a warning when he felt teeth
scrape his flesh. With soft moans, his puppet continued pleasuring him.
 
“Enough.” Dietrich was shoved back onto the cushions. Isaak forced his legs
apart. The youth was almost quivering and gasping with anticipation on the
silken cushions. “Dietrich von Lohengrin, you are a shameless whore,” Isaak
murmured. That ironically was part of what attracted him to the boy.
 
“I hate you, Isaak… I hate you for making me want you. I hate you for making me
need you. I can’t get through a day without wanting you inside me, tearing me
up…” Dietrich rambled under him. The alcohol he had consumed made his tongue
reckless. Isaak wondered if the Terran meant his words or if this was another
one of his tricks.
 
“Prove it,” Isaak laid down on the cushions beside him, pulling Dietrich on top
of him. Dietrich immediately straddled his hips. With a harsh cry, the brown-
haired Terran impaled himself on Isaak’s shaft, taking him in to the hilt.
Without waiting for his body to adjust, Dietrich started moving up and down,
repeatedly tearing himself inside. How beautiful. He reminded Isaak of some
fallen angel being corrupted by a demon. Cheeks flushed, Dietrich threw back
his head, both laughing and crying.
 
Isaak placed his hands on those boyish hips to steady his frenzied movements,
even as he arched upwards to his lover. His hands dug into Dietrich’s flesh,
leaving angry bruises. He yanked on the chain, pulling Dietrich’s wrists
towards him. Fangs pierced a pale wrist. Isaak drank as Dietrich rode him.
 
There was more blood and more tears from Dietrich before they both found their
release. Spent, Dietrich fell forward onto Isaak’s chest.
 
“I’m your whore, Isaak Fernand von Kampfer. Use me, no, abuse me any way you
want. I’m your plaything. Rape me, torture me, bleed me dry…I don’t care!”
Dietrich gasped and pressed his cheek against Isaak’s chest. Isaak placed an
arm over Dietrich and pulled him closer. Sobs wracked that slight frame.
Dietrich breathed in Isaak’s scent, a heady mix of musk, sweat and tobacco.
Isaak ruffled his hair as one would with a favourite pet.
 
“I know. You are a fast learner, my boy. Now rest.” Isaak waited until the
Terran cried himself to sleep. Gently, he eased the Terran off him and got up,
straightening his robe.
 
“Bravo, Von Kamper. A stellar performance, as usual.” Cain clapped and stepped
out of the shadowy recesses beside the bed where he had been watching all this
while. “Though we both know he has outgrown your tastes a while ago. Perhaps it
is time we find some little innocent brown-eyed boy for your bedroom games.”
 
“Naturally. Till then I suppose I’ll have to make do with the puppet I have,”
Isaak smirked and lit a cigarillo. He would use the willing brat until he was
broken beyond repair. Then he would slice out those lovely brown eyes and
preserve them in a jar, just like he did with his past toys. He grinned
wickedly. It’s a crying shame really, that they grew up too fast. 
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