Revenge Gone Wrong

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters, nor places, mentioned within this fiction are the property of me, though I wouldn't mind owning Isaac. I am in no way attempting to claim ownership for Konami's wonderful piece of work that is Castlevania, nor attempting any ownership of any of the characters mentioned.


-- Revenge Gone Wrong --


Hector had never been so furious in all of his life. Not that he could remember, anyway. His beloved Rosaly had been killed. Murdered. Nothing would ever right that terrible wrong for him, nothing would ever make it better. Not completely, at least. He had a pretty good idea of what would help. And to further help him, he knew just where to find the guilty one.

Isaac. Always Isaac. There could be no other, at least not in his life, that would do something so terrible, so horribly vindictive. And at that particular moment, the crimson haired Forgemaster was asleep in his bed, Hector standing over him, though he wasn’t aware of it. If Hector didn’t know any better, he’d believe that Isaac had been completely exhausting himself in this quest for revenge, staying awake the nights to wait on a surprise attack, sleeping away the days when he believed it was safe. But Hector DID know him well and he was certain that was the way of it. Not that it mattered to him. It was fine. It gave him the means to end this as dirtily as Isaac had ended the life of the woman that cared for him, that innocent soul that had not deserved such a fate.

As he stood poised over the slumbering red head, Hector raised his dagger, steeling himself for the task at hand. But nothing would make it easy, since Isaac had been so close to him, too. He made his move to plunge the dagger deep into the red head’s heart, feeling swift action would be the only way, but still faltered before he could land the blow. Isaac. This red haired man, no matter how wicked, had been his first real friend. Isaac had been the first to accept and trust him, the first to ever grow so close to him, with the exception of his parents, because they had been so alike. In ability, at least. Personality had been an entirely different matter, a fact that was still true to this day. Above all, though, Isaac had been the one that taught him to open his mind, his heart, taught him the various sides and ways of pleasure, of love.

Hector let out a breath as he stood just staring down at the sleeping male, trying with all of his strength to summon the will to move, to be done with this task. The second attempt at murder ended much as the first did, however. And Isaac must have finally sensed something, for he shifted in his sleep, softly muttering words that could not be understood. They took Hector off guard, though, the knife dropping from his grasp, hitting the bed first, and then ultimately ending on the floor. Hector froze as the clatter of metal upon stone roused Isaac slightly further, the red head shifting again, silken sheets sliding away from him and his restless actions. Hector’s breath caught almost at once, finding that Isaac slept just the way he had when they were younger; completely naked. It was like seeing the past again, though Isaac’s growth in physical strength was far more obvious, with that slender, pierced, tattooed body spread out before his very eyes.
And Isaac was still beautiful, too. Everything he’d done to himself, the tattooing, the piercing, had not taken a thing away from his wicked beauty. If anything, it had simply added to it, made it even more sinful that it had originally been, much harder to resist, so much easier to want.

Hector let out another breath, one he hadn’t even been aware that he was holding. It had only taken minutes, or maybe it was only seconds, for everything to become too much, far more complicated. He dropped onto the bed, onto Isaac, with a soft, defeated whimper. His mouth found the red head’s almost immediately, the kiss rough and deep. At the same time, his hands found and captured slender wrists, pinning them above that head of crimson hair. Hector viewed it as a form of irony, for in all the years that he and Isaac had been both friends and lovers, it had always been Isaac on top, Isaac giving every command. It was going to change. Now. And while it was not the revenge he had come seeking, though he would still have that, it was something he could not leave without. And there was a chance that it would give him a sort of…peace of mind.

A soft groan roused Hector from his thoughts. He pulled back and found a very irritated Isaac, as if that was anything out of the ordinary to him, staring up at him. Those fierce eyes that had once been the coldest blue, were now a deep shade of violet, one hidden away, as always, beneath a thick overhang of crimson hair. That added to his beauty, too.

“What is this!?” Isaac sneered, as vicious as he’d ever been. Maybe more. Already he was fighting Hector’s grip and growing more steadily irritated as he found he could not break it. “Let go!”

“Isaac…I had to do it. I had no idea how much I’d missed seeing you so…innocent, so vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable!? How dare you?”

Hector ignored him, ignored any urge he might have had to answer. Instead, his mouth found Isaac’s again. And all of the red heads would be complaints and protests were first ceased by the initial surprised, and then forgotten entirely as he gave himself over completely to the kiss. It really was all so familiar, almost soothing. But at the same time, Isaac found it to be bitter. Hated it with a great passion. Hector had coldly betrayed him, after all, and all of the love and desire he had held for him. He didn’t deserve to have this now, none of it. But even so, Isaac could not bring himself to end it.

“You know as well as I, that it will be over soon…” Hector murmured, mouth still close to Isaac’s, his lips brushing the red headed male’s with each spoken word. “Just one more time. Please…”

“Why should I grant you anything? You’re a traitor! You’re my…most bitter enemy!”

“…And I was your lover first. Isaac, please.”

Isaac frowned, casting Hector a baleful glare. And yet, enemies or not, it was impossible to deny that he wanted it. Granted, for him it was not truly the physical act which Hector required that made him want it, but the fact that he could, if he manipulated this just right, have the revenge he had lured Hector here for. He smirked faintly, looking up to Hector as he licked his lips. “Yes. One more time, Hector. One more time for this love that turned in an instant to hate.”

Anyone else might have feared the look, one that possessed such a sense of hate. But Hector had long ago learned to take all of it in stride. “…Good.”

“Let us waste no time, then!” Isaac declared, arching up to grind himself motivationally against Hector, moaning wantonly at the feel of bare flesh against that of leather.

“Nn…”

“Strip for me, Hector. Will you do that?”

Hector whined softly and leaned away, lifting himself off of Isaac. Though he didn’t make a show of it, he did make quick work of stripping away every last shed of his clothing, letting it all fall to the floor beside the bed, covering the long since forgotten knife. As the last garment fell, he nearly pounced back upon Isaac, grinding against him roughly.

“Nnnh…”

“Isaac…do you, uh…” Hector cleared his throat, looking rather sheepish. “You know…”

Isaac chuckled softly. “Still like a foolish boy. Hmph. On the nightstand.”

Hector pulled his gaze away from Isaac, a task that was becoming increasingly difficult, and turned his attention instead to the nightstand. He took note of the vial there and quickly took possession of it. He pulled free the cap, discarding it to wherever it felt like falling, and emptied a portion of the contents upon his hard flesh, realizing too late that it was far too much. But Isaac was, as seemed to quite often be the case, a step ahead of him. He caught the excess with his left hand, stroking it over his own cock, already nearly as hard as Hector. His right hand was thus occupied with the task of stroking Hector’s cock, spreading the oil generously over him. And all of the soft pants and gasps that came from Hector served as such treats after three, long years.

“Feels…good!” Hector whined pitifully.

Isaac only chuckled at the admission, hand sliding away from the task of stroking himself, and on to one more important; his entrance. He first stroked at it gently with his fingertips, enjoying the feel for the few moments before he pushed forth with slick fingers, two at once, unheeding of his own pain. He enjoyed such things, they turned him on beyond belief. It was that simple. He stroked Hector in time with the way that he flexed and worked his fingers in and out of himself. And Hector, as so many times in the past, was purely mesmerized. There was nothing like seeing Isaac touch himself. Truly, it was like watching a whore, the most decadent one in existence. And it was all further fueled by the fact that Isaac was a nobleman, which only made what he was doing far more sinful, exotically beautiful and dangerously insane.

“Nnn…” Hector whimpered as he fought to push Isaac’s hand away from himself. “I have…to have you! Now, Isaac!”

“Then…have me.“ Isaac chuckled again, darker than he had previously. He pulled his fingers from himself and dropped his hand away from Hector’s cock. He rested both behind his head, resting back against them, legs spread wide as he, once more, showed just how sinfully decadent he could be with next to no effort.

Hector grunted softly. If words had the ability to kill, he knew those would have been the ones to do it, even as simple as they were. Three years really had been too long. “Mn…”

“Come on.”

Hector snorted softly, giving Isaac a signal to hush for a moment as he shifted position enough to press the head of his cock to Isaac’s entrance. He gripped the red head’s hips and forced himself in with one, powerful thrust, burying himself deep in the intense heat that was Isaac. He ignored Isaac’s cry, for as much pain as there was in it, there was still pleasure. Isaac loved pain, a fact Hector had known for as long as he had known the other Forgemaster. It was always Isaac, after all, that could come forth from a battlefield, wounded and in pain, yet still delighted. And it was Isaac that had meticulously pierced and tattooed his fair, perfect skin. A task that was both time consuming and immensely painful.

“Mmn, yes…” Isaac groaned, reaching out to grip at the silver haired male’s shoulders, fingers digging into lovely skin. “Do not hesitate, Hector. MOVE!”

Obediently, Hector withdrew himself almost completely, only to thrust back in far more deeply than he had the first time. Isaac, not distracted by any of the ministrations, ordered or not, simply played his part wonderfully. He moaned for Hector, fingers digging deeper into the man’s shoulders, tugging at him in a relentless fashion. All of it served as fuel for Hector, as Isaac had hoped it would, the silver haired male establishing a rhythm, one that was languid and deep.

“More!” Isaac growled. He’d spent so many years always being in command that he’d never imagined it could feel so good to relinquish control. Then again, he supposed that was because he hadn’t really given up anything, he still was in control. Ah, but none of it would matter much longer, though. “Harder!”

Hector groaned softly. Every commanding word only further reminded him of all the nights he and Isaac had spent together before the little world they’d had for themselves fell apart around them. And it was all too easy to get lost amongst those memories, those visions of a time when it was so much easier to just enjoy the company of one another, as well as to love. And it was true, he had loved Isaac for many of those years they spent together, loved him to the very best of his ability. He groaned again, stormy eyes closing as all of his senses, other than those that allowed him to receive the sensations of this pleasure, began to fail him. He thrust himself in harder, angling the movement so that he hit the deepest part of the red head, and with each thrust that followed after. The result was as he had hoped it would be; Isaac was nearly mewling beneath him.

But looks and actions could both be deceiving, a fact Isaac was hoping from the start that Hector would overlook. He dropped his hands away from the silver haired male’s shoulders, stroking himself with one, timed perfectly with Hector’s thrusts, the other busily digging about under his pillow for the object that lay waiting there, that which he’d been patiently awaiting the use of since he first agreed to this.

“Isaac, I can’t…Nnn…I’m going to…”

“Mmn…” Isaac inclined his head just a touch, letting his tongue trail along Hector’s neck, a soft kiss placed to the hollow of his throat. Hector, the fool. As if he could not read the signs for himself. “I know.”

“I wanted it to…to be longer. It’s just…oh, it’s been so long!”

“Shh. Find release. I would not have you hold back…”

Hector heard only understanding in Isaac’s voice, mind ignoring all the dark intent that was clearly there. Again, it was as Isaac had hoped. Such a good game piece he truly was, so easy to manipulate. And even as he slid the long bladed dagger from beneath his pillow, he played his part, too. He moaned as Hector thrust into him a few more times, quicker and harder than he had previously. And he nearly cried out, his voice mingling with that of Hector’s moans, when the silver haired male pushed in deeply, a final time, arching his back as he came. But for Isaac, it was merely another shade of a well held act, arms curling around Hector in a semblance of love, and then quickly turned traitorous as he rammed the long blade into the man’s back, purposely missing his heart by mere inches.

And Hector did not realize what had happened until some moments later, as the euphoria of his passion died away, and the sting of pain began to seep into his senses. It was not until a minute beyond that, when he finally opened his eyes, that he realized he was bleeding away precious life in long ribbons of crimson, all the while still buried deeply within the man that had once been his life, his world. His grunt of pain sounded far too loud in those chambers as the blade was pulled free from its resting place in his back. He let out a breath as he fell to his side, landing on his back beside Isaac, his blood staining deep crimson sheets an even more impossibly dark color.

Isaac chuckled coldly. “How perfect you are…”

“Isaac…” Already Hector’s mind was swimming amongst the pain and weakness. “Isaac, why?”

“Oh, but you know why, Hector! You have known since the day you left. You betrayed Lord Dracula, but you betrayed me, too. I gave to you all that I could, and you…left me for that woman…” Isaac growled, contempt staining his voice. He leaned down close, staring into Hector’s stormy eyes, his mouth just inches from his old companion’s. “I was more beautiful than she, Hector. And you should never have betrayed me…”

“Isaac, I know. I’m…sorry. I wanted you to come! I wanted you with me. Isaac…” Hector’s voice caught as tears began to spill quietly. “You would not come…I still loved you. I’m sorry!”

“As sweet an admission as that may be, Hector…you still betrayed me. And now, it is too late to forgive and forget. You had three years. “

“Isaac…”

“But I am certain, Hector, that we will meet again.” Isaac chuckled, straddling the silver haired male fully, his dagger still in his grasp. “Your soul and my soul…both too deeply intertwined. Dark and light.” He laughed louder, all of his wickedness and madness emerging forth. “Atone in death, you damned traitor!”

“Isaac! Reconsider this mad--”

Hector’s words died away, though, as an exceptionally sharp stab of pain went through him, subsided, and then came again. The world around him quickly faded to a shade of crimson, and then to black, and finally to nothingness. And even with the certainty of his death, Isaac still sat atop the silver haired male, yet for one purpose alone; to admire is work. He had stabbed him twice, his aim for the male’s heart true, though he had never expected himself to falter. No, he was not like Hector, not bound any longer by such morals. He chuckled again as he crawled off of him, leaving the dagger imbedded in his chest, impaled through his heart.

“That was the only possible hope for absolution.” Isaac mused, bedding down on the far side of the bed. He rested on his side, so that he could still admire Hector and his own, wonderful work, while a hand languidly rose. “Come forth!”

It took only moments for the large, winged form of his Devil to first appear before him as a sort of mist, and then materialize into a solid form. And as Isaac looked upon him, he could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction, for now he was the last human with the ability to do this, to call up a creature already forged, as well as forge others, as many as he so desired, from any wisp of conjured matter he so chose.

“What do you think, Abel? Perhaps we could draw back his soul, make of him a devil. Or place his soul into a devil already forged. ” Isaac mused, patting the spot on the bed beside him, which the winged devil quickly took. “Imagine his dismay, having to follow such commands. Though, it does make me wonder…a human soul fused into the body of a created devil…would he have a sense of free will? Oh, what fun that would be, to watch him attempt to resist!”

Abel only snorted softly, the devil settling comfortably into the spot beside his red headed master. He understood enough of what was being said to him, even if Isaac truly did not mean it for him. A devil was truly only a shade of it’s master, and that meant Abel was more than just a creature with wicked intent and a need for bloodshed. It meant he was fiercely intelligent, too, as intelligent as the man who had created him.

“Yes, you like that idea, too…” He stroked along the devil’s wings, his gaze fixed on the body of Hector. “I think we have a new goal in mind, after all…”

Isaac, settled with a great deal of comfort beside the body of his dead friend and his devil, tossed his head back and laughed again, loud and crazed, the sound seeping beyond the chambers, to echo down the long, empty halls of Dracula’s Castle. His mind was made up, his intentions set, and there would be no turning back.