#elsain

The setting sun paints his pale, scratched-up face shades of pink and orange. It complements his hair. Makes him look good, Arme thinks. Then again, Elsword somehow manages to look good all the time.

“I’ve been wondering this for a while, but why don’t you smile as much anymore? You used to all the time, and yet now you never do...”

It seems Knight is intentionally not looking at him. Arme’s lips press into a tight live and he looks out as well, eyes roving over the people enjoying their evening, the last few days of celebration of defeating the demon army. ‘Defeating’...

There is no reason to celebrate, as long as even one demon remains. Well… one might be okay, as long as she’s under surveillance.

Still, Arme sighs, searching for the right words. “Elsword, I apologize if I had… let you down somehow. Emotions aren’t… necessary… for my mission.”

“Your mission!” Knight huffs. “Is fighting the demons for your Goddess that important? You’re not a robot like Empress, Arme! It’s not— natural to just ignore your emotions! We did it, you know? We pushed the demons away, and now they’re cornered. So why aren’t you happy? Honestly, out of all of us, I expected you to be the first one.”

Arme is silent for a moment; the tension in the room heightens and heightens. If only Knight was right. But maybe he is like Miss Queen. His purpose and her purpose… aren’t they similar? Neither of them is human. But Elsword doesn’t know that, and it’d be for the best if it stayed like that.

“I am happy, Kight,” he says finally, “I’m proud of you for fighting so valiantly.”

“Then why won’t you show it? None of us can read your mind! If we could, I think Lusa and Noblesse would be pissed off more often!”

“Elsword! Language!”

Knight just pokes his tongue out at him at the words. “You’re not Elsa!”

Arme sighs, “As I said, it’s not very necessary for me. Plus, emotions are very confusing.”

“But you should at least smile! I’m sure the Goddess would like that much more than you just glaring all day long!” Knight states, sounding completely sure of himself. He finally looks at Arme, and his eyes carry that usual fire of his, somehow even stronger now.

Arme ponders it. Emotions are for humans, he has no need for them. Without them, this mission is easier, he doesn’t get swayed by them. Celestials live to fulfill their purpose and his is restoring the El. Nothing less, nothing more.

On the other hand, Elsword, who seems to hold some strange power over him dislikes his lack of them. The Goddess had never forbidden him from experiencing them, though she had told him not to get close to or meddle with the affairs of humans. And he had long since done both. Yet she has never reprimanded him for it. Maybe because she knows how devoted to her greatness he is, but her warmth has never faded and she granted him all the power he has needed thus far to progress in his path.

So maybe it would be alright for him to smile, if that’s what Elsword wants. It’s not like it’ll set him back on his track to upturn his lips when the boy is around. She would tell him if it was bad. She would make sure he knew, like when he’s around demons.

Yes.

“I can smile more, if that’s what you wish,” Arme says finally, after thinking it over.

Knight’s face seems to light up at the words, only to fall into a frown right after. “If I want? The heck’s that supposed to mean? What do you want, then?”

This question’s easy. “The Goddess’ will.”

Knight’s face hardens.

Arme glances away.

“...and your happiness.”

It’s so low, barely a whisper, that Knight thinks he had misheard at first. But no, he wouldn’t have. Even with the festivities going on a few streets down, their room is quiet enough.

Knight can feel his cheeks heating up. Maybe he can blame it on the lighting. “W-Well! It’d make me happy if you showed what you feel more often!”

“Showed?”

“Yeah! Like— Like when we see demons, your face goes real scary and anyone can tell you’re angry.”

“So you… like it when I’m angry?”

“No!” Knight sighs in exasperation, but he doesn’t give up. That’s not like him in the first place. “I don't like it when you’re angry, but I do like when you express yourself!”

“Huh,” Arme wonders. The sun is disappearing behind the tall temple and everything is getting darker. And, admittedly, more intimate. It’s not everyday that Elsword decides to talk about something like this.

“Do you want me to laugh when you say a joke? Tease Mr. Ancient again? Smile when I’m with you?” Arme questions, doing his best to remember… well, emotions. His memory might be great, but accurately categorizing his past behavior is a little (a lot) hard for him.

“If— If that’s what you want to do in those situations!” Knight’s face flushes further and he ducks away, grabbing his sword and cleaning rag. His hands start up the repetitive movement of polishing the blade.

“Well, sometimes jokes are funny. Especially the ones Miss Elf says about Miss Magician and you.”

“She what—” Knight mutters angrily, scrubbing harder.

“And teasing Mr. Ancient is amusing, I suppose. He gets all huffy. And I… do get the urge to smile whenever you’re around.”

Knight’s shoulders hunch, fully tense now. His bangs hide his equally flaming cheeks. It doesn’t seem possible for him to get any redder at this point.

Arme frowns and reaches out to brush the fringe out of Elsword’s face before pressing the back of his hand to the other’s forehead. “Elsword, your face is burning up. Do you have a fever?”

“N-No!” Knight refuses to look at him, instead boring through the floor.

Arme retracts his hand and they lapse into silence again. Knight breaks it after a moment, his voice tentative and unlike anything he’s like on the battlefield.

“Hey, could I get one?”

“Get what?”

“...a smile.”

Arme blinks, but Elsword seems serious and very adamant. Slowly, Arme raises the corners of his lips into what he hopes is a nice smile. Knight mirrors him, though his looks a thousand times prettier than whatever Arme could manage.

“Could you do this more often? A smile suits you,” Knight tells him, the corners of his eyes crinkling when his smile widens even further.

Something in Arme’s chest melts and he finds himself chuckling. “Only because it’s you.”

The El’s energy quivered, then shot out in a burst of rejuvenating power, skimming over Elrios to cleanse the torn land.  Ain closed his eyes, tasting the sweetness of the restored El.

But it was bitter, too. His mission was now complete.  There was only one thing he wanted to do, now, before Ishmael called him back.

He opened his eyes and turned to Elsword.  The El’s light reflected off red irises as Elsword looked up at Ain.

“It’s… beautiful.”

“It is,” Ain responded, and then leaned down and pressed his lips to Elsword’s as he’d done so many times in the past years.

Elsword tasted of fire, of light, humanity and also something very like divinity.  He pressed into Ain’s touch and twined his arms around Ain’s neck to bring him closer.  And Ain, in turn, wrapped his arms around Elsword and pulled him flush against his own body.

He didn’t want to let go.  He wanted to stay here, kissing Elsword, forever.

But he knew he couldn’t.

With one last gentle nip of Elsword’s lip, he backed away, putting a full pace between himself and Elsword.  That would be his last contact with the boy he loved.

Elsword looked up at him, lips glistening with Ain’s kiss.  Ain opened his mouth to say something.

Soft laughter.

The El pulsed.

Ain forgot his words in the surge of divinity.

You’ve tainted yourself with emotion, Ishmael notes, and there’s a tug on his soul, calling him back to Heaven. The El is restored; come home to me, my disobedient child.

Ain is willing to be punished for his emotions.  He’ll have his memories of Elsword, and these last moments on Elrios, to cherish for the rest of his existence.  He looks at Elsword’s face - soft, warm, scratched - and commits it to memory before he closes his eyes.  That will be his last sight.

Ishmael hums in his mind.

His body tingles as it loses cohesion.  Ain takes his last deep breath of sweet Elrios air, holds it in his rapidly dissolving lungs, prepares to disappear-

“Ain!”

Anguish and confusion anchored Ain to Elrios for just a few moments longer.   That familiar voice, the one which had called him back from the void in Hamel, the one he’d fallen in love with, called his name and pulled him back.  Ain opened his eyes.

Elsword reached for him.

“Ain, what’s happening?  Why are you fading?”

He didn’t think Elsword would have to see or remember this.  He didn’t want Elsword to go through this pain.

Ishmael pulled.  Ain found himself resisting.  Just moments ago he’d been resigned to his fate.  But now…. Elsword had managed to give him a temporary reprieve, somehow.

“My mission is finished, Elsword,” he began, then faltered as Ishmael once again tugged at his soul.  His fingers faded into light.

“I told you, have I not?  My will is God’s desire; my existence is God’s will.  And her desire was to restore the El.”

Elsword stared.  Ain could see the glimmer in his red eyes, could feel the fluctuation of El around him, as he put it all together.  All the things he’d seen and failed to recognize, all the things he’d forgotten, coming together to paint a clear picture.

Ain smiled to try and get rid of the sadness piercing his dissolving heart.  It didn’t work.

“You’re not a priest.  You’re…. an angel,” Elsword whispered.

Ain nodded.

“Why didn’t you- why didn’t you tell me!  Ain!”

The voice was a lashing whip now, cracking around Ain to tether him to this world even as Ishmael once again called.  Ain’s essence was caught in a tug-of-war between his Goddess and the Sieghart boy, body dissolving and reforming randomly.

How popular he must be, to have his two most worshiped beings fighting over him.

“I wasn’t supposed to love you,” he gasped, then managed to draw a breath before his lungs once again tried to disappear.  “Nor was I supposed to be loved.”

Anguish in Elsword’s eyes.  The boy had always tried so hard to give everyone a happy ending.  But there was no way Ain could have happiness in the end, he knew that.

“Even when I broke the rules,” he blurted, “I couldn’t find myself telling the truth regardless.  What would you think of me?  What would I be to you if not a priest?  How sad would you be, knowing I’d eventually disappear from your world?”

Emotion, Ishmael dismissed, and pulled again.  Ain felt it like a tug at the scruff of his neck hauling him away.

Warmth seized his hands and forced him to anchor again.

Elsword stared up at him, having lunged forward.  Ain’s fading hands were clasped tight in Elsword’s warm own.

“I love you, Ain.”  His voice was low now, intense, hitting Ain straight in his heart.  The power of the restored El reverberated around him like a smaller Ishmael.  “I don’t care if you’re a priest or an angel or a demon so long as you stay with me.  You’ll always be my-”

What he would always be was lost.  Ishmael pulled.  Ain slipped free from Elrios, clear light and runes and power surrounding and cleansing him, driving out the chaos that had been ingrained there for so long.  Ain felt lighter as he alighted in Ishmael's palace.

Emotion, too, was supposed to be purified.  Yet something stopped that, something was still clutching Ain's hands in warmth.  Ain looked down.

Elsword's red head was bent, his body trembling.  But he was still standing and conscious, holding Ain's hands to his own chest.  A speck of red humanity in a sea of blue divinity.

“Such a small boy, to defy the power of a god.”

Ishmael’s voice cut through Ain’s very soul, like layers of voices upon themselves, a divine chorus that activated Ain’s most ingrained instincts and made him want to fall to his knees at the Goddess’ feet.  From the way Elsword shook, he wasn’t immune either.

But he raised his face and opened his eyes, staring up at Ain.

His irises glowed with a steady light.  Ain stared at them, fascinated by the vibrant color in the calm of Heaven.

“Where…?” Elsword asked, keeping his voice to a whisper for some reason.  He looked around, then back up at Ain.

Ain didn’t take his eyes off Elsword.  He had no idea what had happened, but that wouldn’t stop him from cherishing this unexpected extra time.

“Heaven,” he said.  “The world where I was born.”

“Created,” Ishmael corrected.

Ain bowed his head.

“I created you for one purpose, Ain, and gave you two commands.”  Her voice was more powerful than Elsword’s, pulling his human form away with just his name.  Ain's true angelic form surrounded him.

“Repeat your mandate.”

“Restore the El,” Ain said.  “And don’t get involved with humans.”

“And yet you were tainted by chaos and emotion.  You reveled in your defilement and disobeyed my order.”

It was true, and Ain was willing to accept punishment for his disobedience.  But Elsword’s hands clenched around his.  Ain saw that familiar fight and determination in every line of Elsword’s body, the light of Ain’s angelic form reflecting off the inner light in Elsword’s eyes.

“At least the El is restored!”

His voice sounded loud in this silent place, jarring from the calm and order.  Ain winced.  

Ishmael’s attention turned to Elsword.  His body shook even more, but he still stood, using Ain’s hands for support more than anything now.

Ain longed to wrap his arms around Elsword and steady him.  Under Ishmael’s sight, though, he didn’t dare.

“That is true, Elsword Sieghart,” Ishmael conceded after a long pause.  “Light and life will return to Elrios.  And without your help, my Ain would never have completed his mission.”

Was that condemnation in her tone?  Amusement?  Either way, Ain bowed his head and closed his eyes.  He would accept whatever his goddess decided, he told himself again.

“I suppose I should reward you.”

She was still talking to Elsword.  Angels needed no reward but Ishmael’s praise and acceptance, neither of which Ain had earned.

“What would you like?  I can grant you power over the El, the ability to save your sister from the fate of the El Lady.  I can-”

“I want Ain.”

Ain opened his eyes.

Elsword’s voice shook, and he was looking around for someone to address his words to.  Ain could see Ishmael, but he wasn’t surprised that Elsword couldn’t - her essence was in the runes around them, and she needed no human form.  But still Elsword kept talking.

“I want him beside me.  Forever.  I don’t want him to disappear.”

Ishmael said nothing.

“Choose something else,” Ain whispered, finally breaking his silence.  Elsword looked up at him.

“You- want to disappear?”

No, he didn’t.  He truly didn’t.  But he would accept it, if it meant Elsword didn’t have to face Ishmael’s condemnation for choosing something so dumb.  Ain bit his lip.

Ishmael still remained silent, but her presence dropped closer.  Elsword clutched at Ain’s hands even tighter.

“Tell me you don’t want to be with me,” he demanded.  “Look me in the eyes and say that, and I’ll choose something else.”

Easy enough, Ain thought - rejecting Elsword to please his goddess, to make Elsword happier in the long run.  After all, what could a defunct angel like him really offer?  Love?  Elsword would be far happier with another human.

Ain stared Elsword in the eyes and opened his mouth.

“I don’t want-” he started, then choked on the words, unable to voice any more of the lie.  “I don’t-”

He did.

He wanted desperately to be beside Elsword.

It was selfish, and it was humiliating, but he’d lost part of his divinity.  He didn’t want to curl at Ishmael’s feet and attend her with his brothers and sisters.  He wanted to wrap his wings and arms around Elsword and protect him for the rest of his days.

“I,” he said one last time, then stopped trying to reject Elsword.

If he had a human body, his cheeks would be burning with humiliation.  He closed his eyes and bowed his head yet again, then slid down to his knees in front of his Goddess and Elsword.  Elsword remained holding Ain’s hands to his chest.

“I want.... to stay with you,” Ain said hesitatingly, testing out the words.  “I’m sorry, Ishmael.  I’m a… terrible angel.”

“You are.”

Direct disapproval.  Ain wilted under the force of it.  His Goddess was unhappy with him.  Had it really been so difficult to reject Elsword?  If he’d done it, would Ishmael be happy?

“Ain, where is your pendulum?”

The thing that allowed him to intervene.  Ishmael wanted to take away the limited free will he’d enjoyed.  Ain had expected that, But with Elsword right here, it was much harder than he’d anticipated.

Still he pulled one hand from Elsword’s grasp and reached for the pendulum.  It materialized easily, familiar string sliding through Ain’s fingers, familiar weight hanging at the end.  He offered it up to the nearest runes.

It dissolved from his hand.

Ain bit his lip and waited.

“You have a new mission.”  Ishmael’s voice once again pressed on Ain with its full force, her attention off Elsword.  “Ain, you will serve and protect this boy, Elsword Sieghart, for all of his days.”

Serve… and protect.

Ain looked up.

Ishmael hovered over him, then beside him, her presence intoxicating and cold like ice.  A gentle pressure began over Ain’s chest, then sank into his heart.

It burned.

Ice flowed through Ain’s veins.

Angels weren’t supposed to feel pain; emotional, physical, or otherwise.  This wasn’t pain.  It was pressure, a tingling in Ain’s limbs, cold weight sinking through him.  Staying in his angelic body suddenly seemed difficult.  With a gasp, Ain reverted to his human form, felt his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs screaming for air.

He gasped in a breath.

Elsword’s arms were around him, now, kneeling next to Ain on the floor of Ishmael’s palace.  Ishmael’s presence withdrew.

“Bless you, restorer of the El, champion of the Goddess Ishmael,” she murmured to Elsword.

And then the palace dissolved and Ain felt hard stone under his knees, sweet Elrios air in his lungs, the light of the Giant El cast over him and a warmth of emotion and living blood in his breast.

Elsword’s body still shook.  He looked up at Ain, though, his eyes no longer glowing with inner light, just normal, human Elsword.

“You’re here,” he gasped.

He was, Ain thought, almost giddy with the prospect.  He had a new mission.  Ain had always been drawn to this boy, but now he felt the attraction like thousands of red threads tied around his throat, wrists, heart, bound to Elsword irrevocably.

“I am here,” he repeated, smiling down at Elsword.  Elsword smiled back.

“I love you.”

Ain had never said those words back to Elsword, though the human had said it many times.  He’d always been afraid of what Ishmael would think.  Now, he savored his freedom to say it, drew in a slow, sweet breath.

Elsword collapsed.

Ain barely managed to catch him.

The presence of such divinity as Ishmael would be a strain on Elsword’s human soul, he assumed, and allowed himself a small laugh just to voice the happiness bubbling in his chest and spilling into his throat.  He was alive.  So long as Elsword was alive, so was Ain, and Ishmael had given her approval.

Ain bent his head and reverently kissed the unconscious Elsword on top of that soft red hair.

“I love you,” he said for the first time, savoring the way the words fell from his lips, savoring the sweet Elrios air and the threads binding him now to Elsword instead of the El.

His hand raises on its own, swinging in a wide arch.

Smack.

It doesn't even feel like it's him doing it, more like he's just an observer peering at the world through the eyes of whoever it is that just created a crimson, palm-shaped mark on Apos' pale cheek.

Apos moves his jaw, making sure it's all right - Esper hasn't been a bodyguard for nothing, even with a body that hides his strength. He looks guilty and doesn't move from the spot even as Esper takes progressively longer and longer to sort through the turmoil of his thoughts.

"Your sense of humor has changed, I see," he mutters darkly, feeling the way his brows knit almost painfully. "Let me clarify, it wasn't funny."

He suddenly feels like retching again, purging the last remains of the alcohol from his body along with Apos' taste that lingers on the edge of his tongue, taunting him. Something smoky with a touch of mint.

Infi hadn't moved during this whole exchange, but now he does, stepping closer to Esper with his arms folded. "It wasn't a joke, that's why," he says, shifting. His arms are as much a barrier as any. "Listen, I know my return fucked up your little thing, but that's why we talked with Apos about it. Y'know, the thing you refused to do and instead got high and drunk?"

"What I do with my body is none of your concern," Esper bites back, all he can force out.

Infi pierces him with a look simultaneously burning and chilling to the bone. Esper refuses to budge, though he does cross his arms in return, doubling the makeshift barrier. "It's my concern when it makes stuff worse."

"It makes nothing worse."

The redhead sighs, shoulders lowering a little. "Apos cried, y'know."

This seems to startle Esper, his eyes shooting to the mentioned man's face for a split second only to find it perfectly dry, if a little contorted. "I don't follow," he breathes.

"When you left. He wouldn't stop, no matter what I did. Just kept crying 'Esper, Esper!' until he passed out from exhaustion." Infi starts twirling a long lock of hair around his index finger as if to find something for his twitchy fingers to do. When he notices Esper's still-very-much-confused look, his lips press into a hard line. "Let me make this clearer."

Finally, Esper thinks.

"Sia likes you. Whether or not you believe it, he does. He also still likes me." Apos is trying his hardest to look like he's not even there. "And you like him, don't you. Otherwise you wouldn't be so jealous-"

"Watch your mouth!"

"-of me." Infi offers a lazy grin, swaying on the balls of his heels. "Now, now. We've come to an agreeable... Let's say a deal, while you were busy drinking yourself up."

"That's it, I don't have to listen to this… kid… spewing shit about me," Esper declares, obviously fed up with Infi's thinly veiled jabs at him.

"Esper," Apos speaks up, first time in the while, and now Infi falls silent. Well, he does when Apos' eyes bore into him, berating him without a single word. "Hear us out. Me out."

Esper takes a deep breath, gazing wistfully at the road before sighing and holding his arms tighter. "Alright, I'm all ears. What is this deal bullshit the pipsqueak blabbered about?"

"Pipsqueak?!" Infi cries out, offended. Well, not even the heels of his shoes give him nearly enough to match either Esper or Apos' height.

"I don't want to lose you, Esper," Apos says, ignoring Infi's remark for the moment. "I... I care about you. Not like a subordinate, but as a friend... Partner. I care the same about Infi, but he'd been gone and now he's back and it's pretty confusing but I know I want you around if that's what you also want!"

Esper is quiet for a moment and then he's still quiet, barely audible, as he says, "It's never been fun being Elsword Perfect Sieghart's shadow, you know? Whenever you talked about him I just wanted to kill him as well, because you'd never stop, you never let me forget there was someone better than me."

"I should have noticed," Apos admits, hanging his head in a mixture of shame and apology.

"I wanted to be special to you," Esper admits, the most painful thing he'd said all day.

"You are special to me."

Esper shakes his head at that, making Apos take back the cautionary step he'd taken towards him. "Not like Infi."

"So that's what you think," Apos utters and his lips quirk up at the corners. "You're right. You're special to me not like Infi, but like you. And I want you to stay, I… need you to stay, it hurts to imagine life without you."

He'd obviously struck a chord with Esper, because he shifts nervously, running fingers through his messy hair. "You survived without Infi. You… became greater. You'll have him back, so you don't really need a failed experiment anym-"

"You're not like Infi, don't you understand?" Apos cuts him off. He would not hear another self-deprecating word from Esper's lips. "You're Esper Grenore, and there's nothing failed about you."

Esper chuckles; it's not wholehearted, but it's a step in the right direction. "The test results would beg to differ."

"What do I care about some decade old tests?"

Esper's lips curl up further. Apos can see the exhaustion clear in his eyes and the bags under them. The man looks like he needs a good night's sleep. And some breakfast, preferably.

"Can I make an offer?" Apos asks, taking a small step towards Esper. Esper doesn't back away, this time, just peers curiously at him. "You don't have to be a bodyguard to Infi. We talked, and Infi agreed to… Well, share the head spot. He'd been gone so long he doesn't know current operations and whatnot. So I wouldn't be his bodyguard, and you could stay mine."

There's a glimmer in Esper's eyes as he glances sideways at Infi, though whether it's an excited grimmer or an enraged one for Infi to try and steal Apos' hard earned spot is beyond either of them. "What about him, though?"

Infi laughs and speaks up again, finally. Honestly, it felt like they'd been passing a baton. "I don't need a guard for the time being. No one even knows I'm back yet, and when the rumors spread, it'll be much more effective to show I can protect myself, don't you think?"

Esper doesn't offer an answer, instead turning back to Apos. "So he'll always be around," he states more than asks.

Apos' eyes soften and he smiles rather lopsidedly. "Give him a chance. I'm sorry I did… all that I did in the past, but no matter how much I hyped him up, he's still a human like us."

"And I don't have to protect him?"

"No." Though Apos doesn't have a single doubt Esper would jump in were something to actually happen.

"Only you? Like before?"

"Only me. Just like before."

"And…" Esper falters. He's almost there, they almost have him! Apos' heart is pounding so hard it's a real feat to keep himself composed. "What was that about the... kiss?"

"Ah." Apos flushes, looking away. "Well… Uh… I love you?"

Esper quirks a brow, hiding his inner turmoil with a scoff. "Love me enough to botch my name during sex, huh?"

Apos cringes. "I'm… sorry for that. Truth is, I also love Infi. But that's… no reason to hurt you in such a way. If you'd give me permission, I would use the right name next time."

"Would you now?" Esper muses, mulling it over. "Are you saying you want to fuck me while you're, what, fucking Infi as well?"

"Date," Apos corrects. "I want to date you."

"Us both? Do I have to date Infi?"

Infi can feel the weight of Esper's stare burning through him. "Nah," he says, instantly feeling it burning a little less. "Just Apos."

"I can… live with that," Esper nods, more to himself than anything. Apos knows he'll warm up to Infi, sooner or later. Well, knowing Esper, it'll be later more than sooner. "I… don't know how this works."

"We can figure it out. For now, how does lunch sound like?"

Esper has to admit, at least to himself, that he is starving. Having heaved up what little he'd ingested the night prior left him woozy and with a grumbling stomach, so he didn't have many protests.

"McDonald's?" he asks hopefully, just the thought of a chocolate McSundae making his mouth water.

"Anything you want," Apos nods.

Esper casts a glance at Infi, who had stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket, looking odd with the bruise on his face and dust on his dress shirt. His tie is askew. But the boy - how old even is he? How is he the head of a mafia? - looks completely relaxed now, when grinning lazily.

"One order of chicken nuggets and chocolate ice cream?" Infi asks, already looking like he knows the answer. Esper glances at Apos, and even if Apos' expression doesn't betray anything, he knows he's the one who told Infi what he likes. Something tugs at his heart.

"Double order of chicken burger and vanilla ice cream?" Esper replies, hesitantly.

They turn to look at Apos and this time their voices are almost synced. "One order of cheeseburger with bacon, no ice cream and apple cake."

"Ice cream isn't even a part of a menu why do you say no ice cream?" Apos sighs, rolling his eyes goodheartedly.

"It so is," Infi huffs, "What's an order without ice cream?"

"A meal."

"You're missing out, Apos."

A bell chimes above him, drawing his attention. He could barely see its golden edge over the decorations, swinging back and front, echoing all the way to the village. Seven in the afternoon.

He lowers his gaze again, steps firm, confident as he makes his way to the front door, grasping the wooden doorknob and pulling the door open. All the eyes inside turn to look at him, through him, at the door that he shuts after himself. Some of the people exchange worried glances. There's no wind outside today, no sign of a storm even brewing anywhere.

He pays the hushed whispers no mind, instead roving his eyes over all the people, looking for that delicious pull he'd felt before. There are people in here that would make for the most distinguished meal, and he feels just about starved enough.

Yet none of the people catch his attention for more than a split second his eyes pass over them. No, what - who - catches his attention is a lone man, standing at the foot of the altar, shadowed by the marble statue of the Goddess, immaculately carved from what he could only assume was a single block.

Dressed in robes even whiter and with hair that seemed to shine, he truly is the centerpiece of the church. His rosary in hand, eyes closed, he chants holy words. They're leaving his lips like honeyed poison of a bee and Infi is completely enamored.

He stands still between the pews, listening to this man preaching about the greater good and justice in the world, and he can't even find it in himself to laugh at it. His whole body is alight with excitement and anticipation.

This holy man would make the feast of feasts with his energy. Infi can't help imagining what he'd sound like in the throes of passion, whether he'd be quiet or whether his melodic voice would ring free, echoing off the walls. What would his face look like? Those piercing eyes, half-lidded and misty, those lips moving to say his name…

Oh yes, he'd make a splendid course, appetizer and dessert included.

He'd never - ever, probably - listened to so much of the religious babbles as right now as he stands transfixed, following each movement and gesture of the priest. He's not the only one, all eyes are gathered on the blue haired man, but none aside from Infi's hold a predatory glint, like a cat ready to pounce its prey.

And pounce he does, but only when the sermon is over and all the people have left the church, heading home, and left the priest alone to tend to the candle holders mounted on the walls between statuettes.

His cloaking falls off like fresh snow off a rooftop and how stands before the priest in all his unholy glory, tail swishing wildly.

The priest freezes and stares at him with eyes wide. Infi thinks he might have the upper hand already, but the startled expression soon melts into one of pure anger, brows setting together and those piercing eyes narrowing at him. "Demon," the priest practically growls, "Begone thot! I won't let you bring harm upon this village!"

As he holds up his rosary, clutching it, Infi can't help but laugh, ending with a huge grin across his whole face. The look of his inhumanely sharp teeth makes the priest's hand tremble, much to his delight. "You seem to misunderstand," Infi drawls, taking a step forward. At the same time, the priest takes one back, and they end up back at square one, except the priest is now cornered against a wall, whether he knows it or not. "Your petty jewelry has no real effect on us demons."

The priest's face is still hardened, and bit doesn't change even as he drops his rosary to hang down at his chest again. "What do you want?" he asks instead, voice still just a little too hard for a human.

Infi had never met someone with willpower and determination this strong, even in the face of something completely new and scary. He loves it.

"You," he says, licking his lips in anticipation, "I want to taste you…"

"Me?" the priest echoes, a little taken aback.

Infi's wings flutter and he lets his lips curl up even further. "I can make you a deal," he proposes, "You can pay a fee in place of this village, and I'll leave the people be. You wouldn't want all those old people to get hurt, would you? Because you caaaaare for them."

"What is this fee?" the priest asks, though through his ground teeth it's more of a harsh statement than a question.

"Your essence," Infi replies simply, "And if you refuse, I'll just keep going from person to person until I'm satisfied. It would take a lot, though, just letting you know."

He feels like a king, moving the metaphorical pawns across the board of a deal, all to his own benefit.

"When you say essence…" the blue haired man starts carefully, "What exactly do you…?"

Infi grins wider, somehow, cheeks hurting already. He can tell from the slightly puzzled look on the priest's face that his thoughts strayed to blood or life force, but Infi is no lowly vampire. "Why don't I just show you? Or would you rather someone else take your place?"

He has the priest in a checkmate.

And the priest seems to know as much.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't move back when Infi steps forward again. He places a hand over the other's chest, clawed fingers resting on the material. Wide blue eyes gaze down as he drags the fingers south, snagging the last few buttons.

The priest looks like he wants to protest, but Infi shots him down with a single upwards look, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his slacks and pulling down. Underwear follows the pants soon after, pooling at the priest's ankles and leaving Infi a perfect look at the prize.

He drops to his knees and grips the priest's thighs hard enough to leave faint marks behind.

"I won't force you to do anything," he breathes, baring his sharp teeth, "But just know I'd need a handful of people just to match your energy."

The priest's expression is guarded and he looks like he can't believe what is going on, but Infi can see the gears turning in his head. Finally, he says, "Do what you want," and Infi throws away his inhibitions.

He takes the soft cock into hand and pumps, having no qualms about pointing it at himself and taking the tip into his mouth. He's skilled and knows as much, so the first taste of precum, salty and only a few moments later when the man's cock starts hardening is not surprising.

And while it isn't really surprising, it's very satisfying.

Rarely does he find humans this potent, this good a meal. His life hasn't been long by demon standards, but he's had a taste of many different people so far. One had to to survive as a succubus. And that's why he can, without a shred of doubt, say that this man is the tastiest he's ever had.

He pulls off the now-hard cock with almost a whine, looking up and licking his lips. "I'm Infi. What's your name, priest?" he asks, going right back without waiting for the answer.

"Arme," the man mutters above, followed by a shaky exhale and a groan. Arme, huh? Infi hums in acknowledgement, sucking at the swollen tip to coax out more of the tasty precum. He laps it eagerly, hand encircling the base to steady it and the other holding the man still at his hip.

Though he isn't going anywhere. In fact, he stands still, the more uncomfortable and stiff Infi had ever seen anyone during sex. He wants to make a jab, laugh, but he refrains in favor of more sucking. Arme keeps trying to keep himself quiet, but small groans and hitched breaths don't pass Infi by. He can feel and hear every single one of them.

Which is why he knows Arme likes it when he presses the tip of his tongue into the slit, so he does it again and again, drinking in the cut-off moans like a dying man would water.

He has an inkling of a feeling — more than that, actually — that the priest is a virgin, so this feels even more satisfying to do. It’s not like he’s corrupting the man, even though it feels like it, just a bit.

“Gonna come already?” he taunts, pulling off and licking his lips hungrily, eyes darkening as he holds Arme’s gaze, glazed over. His face is flushed and it’s almost endearing. “Go ahead, I won’t laugh~”

Infi’s hair swings to and fro as he bobs his head, tongue flattening against the underside of the cock. It twitches in his mouth and he knows Arme won’t be able to hold out much longer. Hands, shaky and unsteady, come to rest on his head, wary of his horns. Infi wonders whether Arme would tug at his hair, but he doesn’t. His hands tremble atop Infi’s head and he comes with a broken, pitiful whine somewhere in the back of his throat.

Infi swallows down rope after rope of cum, only pulling away when the cock starts to soften between his lips. There’s a thin line of saliva still connecting him to it, but it snaps when he licks his lips.

“Thank you for the meal,” he almost purrs, tail flicking behind him like a dog’s. He’d been right, the taste is absolutely divine, and he already wants more. But he’ll have to play a few cards to get more.

That’s fine by him, he was already prepared for it.

“So, now you know what I want,” he says, slowly rising to his feet. Arme’s gaze is unfocused; he must be lost in his afterglow momentarily. Infi waits until he blinks himself back into the present, the blush still ever-present on his cheeks. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?” Arme asks, voice breathless. Infi decides he likes it.

“I need sustenance, and you want your town to be safe. So I can either take only from you, once a month, or I can go and pick someone each night,” Infi says, somehow looking down on Arme even with the difference in their heights.

“Do I… have your word that the town will be safe?” Arme asks and in that moment Infi knows he has him.

“I won’t touch a single other person.”

Arme hesitates, looks back at the statue of the Goddess standing behind the altar, serene and still. He’s conflicted, but he turns back with a nod nevertheless. “You’ll have me, demon.”

“Infi.”

“...demon.”

Infi’s lips curl up devilishly. “Infi,” he repeats.

Arme groans. “Infi. We have a deal.”

Infi grins, wings flapping and sending him into the air with thinly-veiled glee. “I’ll see you in a month then, priest. Don’t you dare forget!”

Arme can only stare as the creature dissipates into crimson smoke, not a trace of his left behind. He slumps to the ground, the tiles cold on his bare skin. Oh, he won’t forget.