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When one has known Cadis Etrama Di Raizel long enough, if they're observant, they can read the signs of attachment. By no means does Frankenstein think his master facilitated Takeo’s dreams, but it's clear he's decided to take advantage of them.
The fact that it continues even after the dreams have stopped isn't a surprise either.
… they could be a little quieter, though.
Regardless, Frankenstein hastens the last of their crew out of the house. When he glances back as he closes the door, he spots Master in the kitchen. He's getting oil.
Goodness grief.
xXx
A few days later, Frankenstein notices something odd with M-21. The man seems… edgy, to put it delicately. Considering the recent situation with Takeo’s dreams, Frankenstein approaches him to ask.
M-21 flinches the second he realizes he's been approached, but he relaxes when he looks up. "Hey."
"Good afternoon," the scientist responds calmly. "Are you quite alright?"
"Huh?" Grey eyes narrow slightly, and the other man eyes him almost warily. "Yeah, I'm fine… why?"
Frankenstein hums, regarding him with purposefully apparent skepticism. "You seem uneasy."
Exhaling, M-21 looks away with a wry smile. "Guess so. It's this whole dream thing. I know it's stopped, but that feels like a band-aid, you know?"
The answer doesn't ring as entirely true, but Frankenstein doesn't point that out. Instead, he says, "Yes, it does, rather, doesn't it? Have you had anything similar- or has Tao?"
M-21 shakes his head, however. "Not that I know of. Really, we're good, but… thanks for asking."
"Hm. Very well. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask," Frankenstein replies, watching him.
The other man looks away. "Yeah… I will."
Frankenstein leaves him be. For now.
xXx
M-21 stops by the mailbox on his way into the house, scooping out the handful of letters. A Magazine for Seira, three packages for Tao - Why - a letter for Frankenstein and one for Tak-
Flipping back to the last one again, he frowns. Legally, Frankenstein's name is Victor Lee, probably because using his real name would confuse people. (Or be a hassle for him, more likely.) So why was he getting mail addressed this way?
M-21 shakes his head and puts in the lock code, stepping into the house. He sets the packages down on the table just inside, pausing to listen. Tao and Takeo are arguing quietly in the living room, Raizel is in the corner drinking tea, Seira and Regis are probably still gone on business. They're not present, in any case.
He ignores them all, instead going straight to their boss' home office where he knows the man resides. He knocks, and tucks the other mail between his elbow and ribs.
When the door opens to reveal the blond, he holds up the letter. "Thought you might want this immediately?" He isn't sure why it came out a question, but he doesn't dwell.
Blue eyes blink, surprise flickering over Frankenstein’s face. "Oh, thank you, M-21," he says, accepting the letter. He looks like he might say something else, but then he catches sight of the address. "Ah. You thought correctly." His expression darkens somewhat, before he steps back.
When he leaves the door open to return to his desk for a letter opener, M-21 isn't sure if he's supposed to leave or not. Curiosity prompts him to step in however, and he absently closes the door behind him. The other man barely glances up, humming thoughtfully. "What is it?"
"There's no proof of postage," the scientist murmurs. "Would you get Tao to check the security footage for whoever left this?"
"Uh, sure," M-21 says, but hesitates as he watches Frankenstein open the missive.
Upon reading it, the scientist's expression blanks. "Please ask him to come here, actually-" He looks up at M-21 and blinks slowly. "No, nevermind. I…"
M-21 all but dives forward when Frankenstein takes a step, only for his knees to buckle. "Frankenstein!"
"I… was very foolish. X grade sedative, no… wonder… they knew?"
Gaping, M-21 almost sinks to the floor with the other man, but catches himself, and straightens. It isn't hard to duck his shoulder and curl his arm under Frankenstein's back, or to lift him. For such a formidable man, he weighs surprisingly little.
Or maybe it's that M-21 is just that strong, he isn't sure.
Drawing a breath, he prepares to kick the door down, only for it to open. Unsurprisingly, Rai stands on the other side. "Bringing him down to the lab," M-21 says quickly, even as the lord moves out of the way for him.
"Hey- what's going on?"
Tao’s voice barely draws M-21's attention as he heads for the secret entrance to their mad scientist's hidden lair. He knows Rai won't answer, so- "Get the door and I'll tell you."
The shorter man hastens to activate the switch (a literal turning light fixture). M-21 hurries down the steps beyond, and into the bright sterility of the laboratory. He goes for one of the surgical tables, even as Tao heads toward the medical supplies.
"He's breathing. Heart's a little high," M-21 says as he lays the man out on the bed. "No obvious stress to anything. I thought he said it was a sedative?"
"Explain."
Rai's voice rings with quiet authority, so M-21 answers as he properly checks the blond’s pulse. "He got a letter, addressed to Frankenstein. It must have been doused with something. Fast acting, less than a minute. Before he passed out, he said it was a sedative."
Now that he's focused, he can feel Frankenstein's pulse slowing quickly. "That's not good."
Tao materializes with a needle full of a familiar yellow liquid. He injects the serum with the ease of practice, and M-21 breathes a sigh of relief not a second later. His pulse is already evening out.
"He'll be okay," he murmurs. "We gotta make sure he stays that way, though."
"Let me," Takeo interjects, placing a hand on M-21's shoulder. "You're shaking."
He is? M-21 lets his friend nudge him back and take his place, and looks down at his hand. There is a faint tremor there. Adrenaline is a bitch, and he'd never had the steadiest hands.
Lying to himself isn't a habit he nurses though, and he knows part of it is fear. He's afraid for their boss. His boss. Why has this happened?
He looks up, and sees Rai holding something in a thick handkerchief. The letter, M-21 realizes. "Rai?"
Red eyes lift to look at him. Rai lowers his hand. "You did well."
"... thanks." He isn't sure what he'd expected, but not that. Not that it matters right now. "What does it say?"
For a beat, Rai looks back down at the paper, then reads aloud.
"' My dear Frankenstein,
How are you sleeping lately?
You should take a nap. '"
He looks up again, gaze flicking toward Takeo.
What the hell does that even mean? "Whatever else it is, it's a taunt," M-21 mutters.
"And tacky," Tao inserts unhelpfully.
Takeo says suddenly, "Do you think this has something to do with my dreams?"
That's… a good point. Dreams, now a sedative? Was Frankenstein the target all along? "You said you dreamt of him specifically."
Blinking, Takeo glances away from Frankenstein's face, meeting M-21's gaze. "I did… it made me feel… unsafe around him."
That's an interesting way to put it. "I thought so," M-21 mutters grimly. He looks at Frankenstein again, and after a moment, realizes that he has a beauty mark at the corner of his jaw.
… now isn't the time for that. "Tao, he wanted you to check the security feed for who left the letter. There was no postage," M-21 recalls abruptly.
The techie grimaces. "There's not much more I can do here anyway. Someone should sit with him, though."
"I'll do it," Takeo offers, to M-21's relief.
Tao adds, "I'll also call Seira and let them know they need to report back."
Great. At least they're all on the same page. M-21 looks at Rai. "Anything to add?"
Rai doesn't answer, not looking away from Frankenstein on the bed. M-21 takes that as a no.
xXx
Frankenstein is no stranger to the concept of vengeance. His whole life before Master was a study of frustration and rage. When he wasn't experimenting, learning, he was hunting. He's an excellent hunter.
This… trance has a similar taste to it. Unable to move, to talk, to reach out to Master. Not even to look at the people fussing around him.
M-21's voice is the one he hears most. Taking charge. Bringing him to the lab, barking orders at everyone. Frankenstein can feel the way the man's fingers tremble faintly as he presses them to Frankenstein's pulse.
For a little while, Frankenstein loses time. He's surging back into awareness to the feeling of a palm on his forehead, but is still paralyzed.
"You're such a pain in the ass," a voice murmurs as that hand moves to check his pulse.
Honestly, Frankenstein is offended. He's a pain in the ass? Oh yes , it's absolutely awful, how terribly altruistic, understanding, and helpful he's been. He should get the Nobel Peace award just for his level of patience with these idiots.
M-21 leans in, then; Frankenstein can feel the heat of him. Then, softly, "Are you awake?"
Frankenstein's heart skips. He isn't sure how the man figured it out, but all he wants to do right now is scream yes! Yes, I'm awake! Unfortunately, his lips stay stubbornly closed.
By science, he loathes this.
"You are," M-21 whispers, and the bed creaks ominously under his hands. "Sunovabitch."
What?
"I'll figure out who did this, and how to undo it. We will," the man corrects himself softly. "... I'm sorry I didn't check."
Oh. His sense of smell- which means it was Frankenstein's heartbeat that tipped him off? That's something.
Still, he can't actively use it here. Not without a couple serums that would likely do more harm right now than not. Frankenstein wants to scream, but that's locked in his mind, too.
"Can't you talk to Rai? … no, you'd have tried that already," M-21 mutters before Frankenstein can… Well, he can't do anything, but it’s nice that M-21 knows better regardless. "Shit."
Yes, that sums it up rather nicely, doesn't it?
"Tao will be down here soon. I'll tell him you're awake," M-21 goes on after a moment. "And everyone else… I wonder if Rai knows? I'll have to ask Takeo."
Frankenstein wants to snort in amusement. The only thing he can manage is a slightly louder breath, though. It barely counts as anything.
Even so, he can hear the smile in M-21's voice when he speaks again. "Yeah, I know. They're ridiculous."
When had M-21 become so intuitive? Has he always been this observant? Frankenstein wants to look at him, see what expression he's making. His eyes remain shut.
"Why isn't this wearing off? I thought you said this was a sedative?" M-21 murmurs speculatively.
Frankenstein can't tell him it's because it's an X grade sedative. Designed to immobilize but not interfere with cognitive abilities. Their effect lasts weeks, at the worst. This one is clearly modified.
"Wait, you said something earlier… X grade, right? I wonder…" M-21's footsteps retreat, but Frankenstein can still hear the sound of him in the room. The shuffle of books. He's researching?
Quiet lapses for a few minutes. "Damn, there's so much here… I wonder if you have an index…"
Frankenstein grimaces inwardly. He doesn't, for reasons pertaining to information theft. This is going to take forever. It would take him hours, nevermind M-21, who has no idea what any of it means.
"Sedatives… maybe… nervous system?" There was the slide of a book on wood.
So close, so far. Frankenstein's frustration mounts impotently.
"... what's that? ' CNSD Study' ? Now we're getting somewhere…"
He really is. That's exactly the book he needs, and Frankenstein can't help but wonder about the man's luck. … no, it's more like intuition. He has excellent intuition and honestly Frankenstein can't help but admire that right now.
"M-21?" The sound of Tao’s voice startles Frankenstein, focused on M-21 as he was.
M-21 doesn't sound even a little surprised. "He's awake. He seems to be immobilized, but he's conscious."
Not one to beat around the bush, was he?
Tao’s footsteps are nearly inaudible over his gasp. "Seriously?!"
"I can hear his heartbeat, and unlike the rest of him, it seems normal in its function," M-21 mutters distractedly. "Come help me look. I'm trying to f- ah!"
"Eh!?"
There's a pause, and then M-21 clears his throat. "Sorry. I found it. X grade sedative… shit."
Tao’s voice moves across the room as he speaks. "What? What does it say?"
"... it's mostly used for surgeries that require the patient to be conscious," M-21 explains softly. His voice lowers, probably in an attempt to keep Frankenstein from worrying (which is silly- he wrote the book). "It maintains the clear use of the brain, but immobilizes the body… and without the proper reversal agent, it… won't wear off quickly."
Tao is silent a moment. "So, how do we figure out the right reversal agent? Does it say?"
Frankenstein already knows the answer, of course, but it isn't like he can tell the modified human himself. M-21 does instead. "No. It doesn't. But it does mention a temporary solution… and if we can get him able to talk, he can tell us how."
"What kind of temporary solution? A serum?" Tao asks.
"... I'm pretty sure we have everything here to make it."
Tao makes a hesitant noise. "Neither me nor Takeo are really… equipped for that sort of thing…"
"You never paid attention to the experiments?"
".... no…."
M-21's sigh echoes the one Frankenstein wants to let out. "It's fine. I can do it."
"Oh good! I'll go update the others."
"Wai- Tao!"
The quick shuffle of running feet is the only response Frankenstein hears. M-21 makes an annoyed sound, before his footsteps approach Frankenstein. "Sorry it has to be like this. I wish we could just make the agent and cure you…"
That's foolish, and they both know it. "Anyway, it won't be long. I'll get started."
Frankenstein wants to sigh, but he can't control his lungs to that extent. Instead, he simply listens as M-21 moves around his laboratory.
xXx
M-21 keeps an ear out for Frankenstein's heartbeat as he works. He can't imagine the hell this must be wreaking on the man. Not being able to move or speak, but entirely aware…
A smile. "Breathe deep…"
… on second thought, he can imagine it very well. Crombell hadn't been a kind man.
He needs to focus on this right now, he reminds himself. Frankenstein won't be able to tell them the right agent if this doesn't work. That's more important. Their peculiar benefactor is far too relevant to let waste away.
The thought gives him pause, and he looks over at Frankenstein. As before, the man lays in repose, eyes closed as if asleep. His long blond hair spills off one edge of the bed - glinting dully in the bright room. Pale skin displays stark veins, crisscrossing and bulging in a way that makes the man seem… fragile.
M-21 is self conscious enough to be bothered by the illusion. Those bright blue eyes should be open, looking back at him. Full of life, knowledge, strength. He should be talking, telling M-21 exactly how this all works, sharing wisdom M-21 would never dare hope for.
That's what Frankenstein does, after all. When his master was gone, and he was all alone, Frankenstein opened a school. He became a teacher. It was his gift, and M-21 sorely wishes he was able to share it.
He isn’t, though, so M-21 focuses on his task. Carefully urging the serum in question into shape. Time flies by while he’s working, until finally he hears the sound of the lab door opening.
Without looking, M-21 knows it's Rai. The lack of any following noise, but… there was a sense of his energy, hovering near Frankenstein's bed. M-21 decides to bring him up to date.
"I'm sure you know this already, but he's awake. He can hear and understand… though I'm not sure how much he understands. I'm going off his heartbeat," M-21 mutters as he eyes the machine in front of him. It's a waiting game now.
"I'm working on a temporary measure to at least give him speech. Unless you happen to know how to negate this, that's the best I can do."
Finally, he turns to look at Rai. The man stands beside his scientist, staring down at him without expression. "We're gonna save him."
Red eyes lift to meet his finally. "... I will not forget your aid in this."
That's both reassuring, and oddly ominous. M-21 clears his throat. "He saved me. You both did."
Rai doesn't answer that, instead going back to looking down at the immobile man. M-21 turns back to eye the processor, lips turned downward in a frown.
The Noblesse's voice draws him around again. "He broke my loneliness."
M-21 isn't sure what to say to that. He never really expected Rai to offer something so personal to begin with. "No matter how long it takes, I'll save him," the younger man says softly after a moment.
"... I know. I trust you, M-21."
He's blown away by the soft words, and swallows. Such an admission makes him feel… guilty, like a fraud, though he isn't sure why. He didn't cause this; he's trying to fix it.
If for no other reason than to pay Frankenstein back just a little bit. Accomplish something that benefits him tangibly. The fighting, the security work- that doesn't count. That's business.
This… feels different. Useful. Personal, maybe.
The light click of the door draws his gaze back to Frankenstein. Rai is gone, and there is a bracelet on Frankenstein's wrist now. Old and brass, seeming to almost glow in the cold glare of the fluorescent lights above.
Curiously, M-21 draws closer to stare at it, though he doesn't touch. He hears a faint warble in Frankenstein's heartbeat. "Not long now. If you can rest, you should try to."
His only response is the steady thump of his boss' heart.
xXx
Frankenstein wakes slowly, groggy and confused. He recognizes the familiar scents of his laboratory, and for a brief moment, struggles to remember why he's here.
Memory floods back all at once, and he tries to move, just like every other time he woke in this horrible limbo. Unlike before, though, he jerks. Too hard, too frantic, limbs not quite responding the way he wants them to. He tumbles off the edge of the bed, and cringes in preparation for hitting the floor.
Instead, warm arms catch him. "Woahh, woah!"
He recognizes the voice as M-21 helps him straighten, and struggles to open his eyes. M-21 hovers over him, a worried frown creasing the handsome lines of his face.
By science, he is the most beautiful thing Frankenstein has ever seen. This time, when he tries to sit up, M-21 helps him, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. His fingers, spread bracingly over Frankenstein's cold skin, burn like a wild fire.
"Can you talk?" Grey eyes stare at him worriedly.
It's a good question. He still feels sluggish and too-heavy, but after a painful swallow, he manages a single word. "Water."
Relief sweeps over M-21's face, and he reaches out to the left, pulling a glass of water with a straw into sight. Carefully, he puts the straw to Frankenstein's lips, and Frankenstein drinks greedily. "Slow. There you go," he murmurs, sounding almost… anxious. "Shit, you must be hungry. Wonder if Seira's thought of that too. They returned this evening- oh, it's nearly midnight."
How long had he been frozen? Had M-21 been here the whole time he slept most recently? Frankenstein swallows and releases the straw, trying again to speak. He manages much better this time. "Doctor Wei Liu knows how to create and administer the reversal agent."
His words are so slurred it's a miracle M-21 understands it. "Wei Liu? How do I get ahold of him?"
A wave of fatigue sweeps over Frankenstein, and for a horrible moment, he's afraid the stop-gap is wearing off already. He slept too long. A shaking hand reaches up to grasp M-21's T-shirt, clutching it like a lifeline. "Don't let me-!"
Burning-hot hands come up again, steadying him on either side of his neck. "Breathe. Slow, and deep. It hasn't worn off. You know this. Think."
The words serve their purpose; he's right. Fatigue and delayed muscle control are side effects of the drug he'd used. Frankenstein isn't sure how M-21 knew what he was thinking, but he's grateful regardless.
He also hates the weakness he just displayed. Hates that M-21 witnessed it. However, when he looks into M-21's eyes, he doesn't find pity, or even sympathy. He finds understanding.
It's more comforting than Frankenstein cares to deliberate. Instead, he breathes deep and forces himself to loosen his grip on the modified human. "I apologize. You should contact Doctor Wei."
M-21 frowns, and after a second, pulls out his phone. He types on it one-handed, the other arm still steadying Frankenstein. His phone beeps a moment later, and he tucks it away again. "I told Tao. He'll find the guy."
The modified human isn't planning on leaving Frankenstein's side, he realizes. It's worryingly reassuring. "... thank you."
"Any time. Though you probably shouldn't make a habit of this."
The words startle a rasping chuckle out of Frankenstein, causing him to cough. A guilty look settles on M-21's face, but Frankenstein quickly says, "I'll try my very best."
M-21 gives him a wry smile. The sound of the door opening draws his gaze, and his too-hot palm lifts away. Frankenstein is relieved he doesn't instantly fall over, and doesn't let himself dwell on the unexpected sense of loss without the touch.
When M-21 tries to move back, Frankenstein remembers that he's still clasping the man's shirt. He uncurls his fingers as Master steps up beside the bed.
"Frankenstein."
Bowing his head, Frankenstein murmurs, "Master."
"Did Tao tell you the plan?" M-21 asks as he moves further back.
Master nods once. "He and Takeo have left to retrieve the Doctor."
Frankenstein takes a quiet, shaky breath. "Please arrange compensation, M-21. My bank account information is in my office."
After only a beat of hesitation, M-21 nods and excuses himself, leaving them alone. Master considers him quietly. "He was a good investment," he says finally.
The praise makes something loosen in Frankenstein's chest. "He is."
xXx
Doctor Wei Liu is a man in his late fifties, once-black hair threaded through with streaks of silver. He's thin, but paunchy in the stomach, and relatively short in comparison to the residents of the house. When Takeo escorts him into the lab two hours later, he looks around with wide eyes.
Gaze flicking over the equipment, the patient, and M-21 himself.
Frankenstein looks up from the sandwich he's eating under M-21's watchful gaze, and offers the man a weary smile. "Doctor Wei. Thank you for coming."
The man looks at him, and frowns a little. "Your goons inform me that someone's suffering the effects of an X Grade sedative?"
The word goons almost prompts a smile out of M-21, especially considering the sheepish look on Takeo’s face. Almost. Then he turns his gaze back onto the doctor and Frankenstein, and he sobers. They're not out of the woods yet.
"Yes, that would be me. My employee," Frankenstein gestures at M-21, who inclines his head at the doctor's glance, "Put together a temporary chemical stop-gap, but it won't last."
Doctor Wei eyes Frankenstein critically, and scoffs. "A stop-gap? That's impossible. No one has ever-"
"If I were you, I wouldn't place expectations on something no one else has done," M-21 speaks up quietly, annoyed with the man's disrespect.
He's awarded the intended result: a mild blanch and a wary stare. Frankenstein affects a sheepish look, though it's telling that he doesn't do so much as shoot M-21 a quelling look. "I apologize. They're all quite protective of me, I'm afraid. Please don't let it bother you."
Sighing through his nose, Dr. Wei gives a short nod. "How long ago was the sedative administered?"
M-21 listens intently as the two of them discuss the details of the event, and it occurs to him that the man won't leave with his memory intact. Frankenstein is being entirely too forthcoming, too generous with information. It leaves M-21 with an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach.
Seira comes down not much later, bearing tea and tiny sandwiches. She politely greets both the doctor and Frankenstein, offering M-21 a small nod on her way out again. Her manner seems to have put Dr. Wei at ease, because he's far less guarded after.
If M-21 didn't know better, he'd think they'd planned it.
Frankenstein still hasn't slept, not even doing so while Dr. Wei is concocting the antidote, but M-21 isn't going to push. He's entirely too familiar with the fear of not being able to move. ' If I go to sleep, I'll wake up frozen again ,' was his own worry. He'd stayed up almost a week before M-24 knocked his ass out with a solid punch to the face.
Waking up with a black eye hadn't been pleasant, but it worked to help him overcome his fear. Not that the same thing would work with Frankenstein. He isn't sure what his boss' reaction would be, but he definitely doesn't want to find out.
Instead, he moves over to Frankenstein's side during a lull, drawing those bright blue eyes up to him. "About twenty minutes or so now," he tells him, for lack of anything better to say.
Frankenstein lifts a brow. "You've been paying attention, I see. You don't have to be so worried."
"I'll stop when you stop," M-21 shoots back without entirely thinking it through. He bites the inside of his cheek as he watches the other golden brow arch to reach the first.
Instead of getting angry, or annoyed, Frankenstein smiles ruefully. "And here I thought I had an excellent poker face."
A soft laugh tears its way from M-21's chest. "No, your poker face is shit; you're just scary enough that nobody says anything."
"Am I?" the blond asks, though his tone says he's well aware that he is. "I'll have to work on that."
M-21 lifts a shoulder in a minute shrug. "It doesn't bother me. I'd rather you just be yourself."
As Frankenstein tilts his head, M-21 regrets his impulsiveness. Somehow, he's maintained his image as a blabbering idiot. "Myself, mm? Perhaps you're right," the blond muses, an ominously thoughtful look on his face. "Perhaps I should."
xXx
Eventually, Wei Liu has administered the reversal agent, is paid, and is mind-wiped by Regis. Takeo takes him away, accompanied by Master, and Frankenstein makes his way upstairs.
M-21 hovers until Seira quietly commands him to go rest, confirming Frankenstein's suspicions that the man hadn't left his side. Part of him protests hard as M-21 reluctantly walks away, and it's all Frankenstein can do not to chase after him like a scared child.
"Can I get you anything, sir?"
He looks at Seira, watching him with too-knowing eyes, and shuts his expression down. Instead, he smiles at her. "Some water might be good."
She bows and turns on a heel to head for the kitchen, either oblivious to or unbothered by the change.
Frankenstein exhales, alone for the first time in a while. Days, probably. He's exhausted, and he should sleep… but he can't.
It's stupid and childish, really, but he's afraid that if he does, he might wake up and realize this is all a dream. That he's still downstairs, unable to move, to talk, to even open his eyes. The only thing worse is the fretting and watchful gazes of everyone else.
He needs to be alone, to sort out his thoughts, and decide how to proceed.
When Seira returns with the water, he thanks her and says he's going to get some rest. She nods, and he feels her stare on his back as he heads for the stairs. He reluctantly bypasses his office, not wanting to risk any grief from the others. Not right now.
In the hall upstairs, he's halfway to his room before he realizes someone is ahead of him. Outside his door, leaning against the wall on the floor, is M-21. His eyes are closed, but they slit open at Frankenstein's approach.
There's something… reassuring about his presence. Some ridiculous instinct that relaxes with relief at the sight of him. Stupid and childish.
And yet… their conversation in the lab comes to mind. Being himself, at least around M-21. When was the last time he was himself with someone that wasn't Master?
"Hey." M-21's voice is rough, as if he'd actually been asleep, sitting there by Frankenstein's door.
Frankenstein lets out an unintentional sigh. "Hello."
"If you sleep, I'll keep watch." It's like he knows, and there's a brief twinge of panic in Frankenstein's chest at the thought of laying down.
He doesn't quite see M-21 move, distracted as he is, until he's there in front of him, hot hands settling on Frankenstein's shoulders. "Wha…"
"Breathe. Slow and deep. I'm here, okay? I'm not gonna let it happen again."
He does know. He does know. How? "How do you know?"
M-21 visibly grits his teeth for a moment. "... Crombell liked having his experiments conscious, so he could get tactile and sensational data after the fact."
It's horrible enough that it pulls Frankenstein out of his panic, somewhat. He doesn't offer sympathy or pity, just like M-21 hadn't. "... oh."
Smiling wryly, M-21 nods, and pulls back. Frankenstein follows the retreat, pulled like a lodestone before he can stop himself. Grey eyes narrow slightly. "You want me in the room while you rest?"
Rest, not sleep. Frankenstein is aware enough to notice the distinction. He wants to say yes, but instead shakes his head. "No, I… it's fine."
M-21 doesn't look convinced, and half turns to push open Frankenstein's door. "Go on."
"You…" Frankenstein swallows the protest, and forces his feet to move. He steps into his room, only to pause as he looks at his bed. A palm presses against his back, scalding even through his shirt, and he reluctantly moves forward with the gentle push.
The door shuts, and he jerks around, only to find M-21 still standing there behind him. "I'm here," the man assures him unnecessarily.
Oh, Frankenstein hates that. Hates the weakness, and the fact that M-21 sees through it- No. No, he'd already decided to… to be himself. To let M-21 in. At least… a little. A little.
M-21 watches him, unmoving, not touching him again. Waiting for Frankenstein to make up his mind. A silver brow lifts when Frankenstein exhales slowly.
"I… old habits die hard," the blond admits finally, and gives him a wry smile. He hesitates, only a moment, before going on. "I would… like you here, yes. If it isn't a bother. I don't require it of-"
"Okay," M-21 interrupts, not unkindly. Which is good, because once Frankenstein started talking, he wasn't sure how to stop. "You want me in the chair by the bed, or in the corner?"
Frankenstein turns his head, eying the soft leather arm chair sitting next to the window. A heavy, comfortable thing Master had once gifted him, a long time ago. "Wherever is more comfortable for you, I just…" How did he put it into words? That seeing M-21 went a long way towards settling Frankenstein's barely-banked anxiety.
"You couldn't open your eyes. It's okay. I get it."
He does 'get it', Frankenstein recalls with relief, and he offers a smile. "Thank you."
Frankenstein glances around, gaze catching on the ensuite door. "I'm going to take a bath before I sleep."
M-21 glances at the bathroom, and walks past Frankenstein before the blond can blink. He opens the door and looks inside, then walks in, only to swing the door mostly shut behind him. What on earth is he doing?
A moment later, he comes back out. "Go ahead. I'll wait out here. Keep the door cracked open."
Bewildered, Frankenstein drifts into the bathroom, keeping the door cracked as requested. He looks at himself in the mirror for the first time in days, and immediately blanches. No wonder M-21 is being so kind; Frankenstein looks rather like a gentle wind might blow him over.
He's paler than normal, eyes wide, and couched in dark circles. His hair looks dull and tangled, no matter that he ran a brush through it a few hours ago. Even his jaw seems sharper, more delicate, denoting the fact that he hasn't eaten for a while.
Sighing, he turns on the tub - not the jets, not yet - and disrobes. He feels weak and small, no matter his height over most of the others. When he climbs in, though, and settles into the water…
He drops his head back and sighs again, this time in relief. It feels wonderful, like the warmth of M-21's hands, except all over his body.
The thought draws his eyes open again, and he glances toward the bedroom, only to blink. That's what M-21 had been doing; trying to determine where to sit, so Frankenstein could see him. From Frankenstein's vantage, he can see the man quite clearly through the crack in the door. In fact, he would be willing to bet money that if he were sitting the other way, he'd be able to see M-21 in the mirror.
M-21 is sprawled out over the end of the bed, jaw just visible under the arm hooked over his eyes. He hasn't shaved lately, the blond notices, but he looks… good. Muscles defined but not possessing of a great deal of girth, wearing black jeans that looks well worn in (and Frankenstein does recall seeing him in them around the house). His white T-shirt may be a little small, though. It seems too tight, and the bottom is riding up, revealing a tanned swathe of skin.
His voice jars Frankenstein from his observations. "You good in there?"
"Yes, just… enjoying the warmth," Frankenstein replies, and forces himself to rest his head back against the lip of the tub, sinking further into the hot water.
He doesn't quite notice falling asleep, until a hand on his shoulder wakes him with a start. When he starts flailing, though, M-21's hands go to his shoulders and pin him to the edge of the tub. "Woah, you're okay, it's okay."
Frankenstein opens his eyes to look up at him, gasping for breath. "I- I didn't…"
"I know. It's okay," M-21 repeats, slowly pulling his hands away. "You shouldn't sleep in the bath, though."
That was… true. "I'll be out in a moment."
M-21 nods and straightens. Maybe it's Frankenstein's imagination, but for the half second before the modified human turns to leave, it almost seems like he glances Frankenstein over.
Then he's gone, settling back onto the end of the bed. He's on his side this time, facing away from the bathroom, and Frankenstein catches the slimmest flash of skin before he settles.
After a beat, Frankenstein forces himself to move, reaching for the soap. A custom mix without all the more dangerous chemicals. He made a point of stocking the brand, because Master preferred it.
As he starts soaping up a bath poof, he considers that maybe-imagined look. A figment or not, just it occurring to him made him… wonder. It's ridiculous of him, of course, but… does he want M-21 to look at him? Like… that?
Master's sake, man, you're an adult.
To look at him with interest. Does he want that?
Before all of this, before Master and Takeo and the soul realms (the sedative), he probably wouldn't have thought twice about it. It would have been irrelevant, especially in the vein of his busy life. Between the children, the school, and the more-than-occasional mutant attacks, he had no time for romance, or even sex. It wasn't important.
However… now he knows what it feels like to have that man at his side. Understanding. Looking him in the eye, utterly unafraid.
Frankenstein knows without doubt that he doesn't want to go back to how it was before (if he even can). Lowered gaze, deferential tone, humor kept locked away behind stoic professionalism. He doesn't want to never feel that molten touch again.
Does that mean he wants more, though? Having the man as an equal, a friend, is one thing. You can trust friends, enjoy their company, but that doesn't mean you want to kiss them.
He certainly doesn't want to kiss Master, or any of his other idiot employees. Not that he's sure either example quite counts.
Frankenstein sighs and slumps under the water. Partially to rinse off, partially to wet his hair, but mostly an attempt to escape the bewildering train of thought. Not that it works.
He needs more data.
xXx
The next few days are a study of worry, frustration, and a serious case of blue balls. M-21 splits his time between Frankenstein, arguing with the other eggheads (and once, with Rai), and failing to find any trace of the asshole that poisoned his boss.
The security footage had been blotted out with a laser, but when Tao did a work around using CCTV, they discovered that it had been delivered by a guy wearing a marshmallow suit. Even so, Tao dauntlessly scoured the internet (and various different intranets) and the dark web. He was quite insistent they know that point.
What the techie found was a delivery service called, "Marsh Mellow Deliveries" that used a marshmallow suit in their packages. That led M-21 and Takeo to the delivery guy in question, only to learn that he'd been given the package via a drop location. Inside a building. With no working cameras.
Because this city is a death trap, in more ways than one, and it's currently killing his patience.
Afterward, M-21 slinks into the house behind Takeo, letting his more outgoing personality serve as a distraction, and creeps up the stairs. Rai is stepping out of Frankenstein's office, and nods to him. "He has fifteen minutes."
Right. Rai has taken to enforcing a limit of work time for Frankenstein, after he tried staying locked in the office for twenty-four hours straight. That was yesterday, and M-21 had unfortunately been down at the stupid marshmallow place for most of it.
Exhaling, he steps up to the office door and knocks. Frankenstein sighs impatiently on the other side, and starts talking as M-21 pushes open the door. "I really don't need a keeper, he said-" He looks up, and stops in surprise. "Oh. M-21. Welcome back."
Suppressing the dumb urge to smile is impossible, but he doesn't bother anyway. "Hey. Thanks."
The answering smile makes his chest warm a bit, ridiculously. "How did it go?" Frankenstein asks, pulling off his glasses. He sets them aside to give M-21 his full attention, whatever he'd been working on abandoned.
"Uhg." M-21 flops into the sole chair across from him. "A waste of time and effort. We hit a dead end, and I'm about ready to put someone's head through a wall."
Frankenstein snorts, his smile still lingering. "Perhaps you should get some rest?"
It's telling that he immediately winces, even as M-21 lifts a brow at him. "Sure, if you rest too," he says wryly.
The scientist immediately breaks his gaze. "I… I should," he agrees softly, and M-21 gets it. "I know that. It's just… cold, and… frightening."
For a moment, M-21 hesitates, debating whether he should actually make the suggestion that jumps to the front of his mind. It's a glorified excuse, on his part, but he's also willing to try anything to help his… Frankenstein. Fuck it. "Do you want to sleep together?" he asks, watching blue eyes snap back to meet his. "Maybe having another person right there will help. Either on the bed, or I can bring in a cot."
"The bed is fine." Frankenstein pauses, presses his lips together briefly. "Thank you. I… it can't hurt to try."
Great. Awesome. M-21 is a spectacular dumb ass. He knows this because it's only now that it occurs to him that he's going to be wrapped up in Frankenstein's scent all fucking night. His dick is going to be a fucking problem, nevermind his balls.
"Alright," he says to distract himself. "You hungry?"
Frankenstein shakes his head. "No-"
"When's the last time you ate?"
Blue eyes narrow slightly. "Lunch time."
Glancing at the clock - it's 8:30 - M-21 decides that's not good enough, and gets to his feet. "Alright then, Goldilocks," he bites away a grin at the offended scoff, circling the desk to pull him to his feet, "Let's go prove you still exist to the bears, and feed you. Then we're both getting at least eight hours' sleep."
"You realize I pay you, yes?" Frankenstein huffs, but he isn't fighting M-21's insistence. He's letting himself be ushered from the room and through the hall.
M-21 doesn't check his smirk. "Yeah, you pay me to protect the school, and be your goon. Goons make sure the evil genius eats four squares."
Frankenstein is bullied down the stairs, frowning. " Four?"
"Yeah." M-21 can't help but press his luck, grasping hold of Frankenstein's bicep as he pokes him in the ribs. As predicted, the blond jumps, and M-21 keeps him from tumbling the last few steps. "You're losing weight."
"You- I know that!"
Oh good, he isn't oblivious. M-21 was starting to wonder. "Uh huh. Hey Seira. There any dinner left?"
The woman offers them a bow that almost hides her smile. "I just finished preparing something for you both. It's on the table."
Frankenstein sighs, and his own smile is grateful. "Thank you, Seira."
Following the blond, M-21 doesn't sit until he's settled. Then he takes the chair to Frankenstein's left, where a second place has been set. "Eat."
Shooting him a dour look, Frankenstein eats.
xXx
All through dinner, Frankenstein thinks about bed. About sharing a bed with the admittedly very attractive man beside him. He still isn't sure how that happened. His newfound tendency to blurt out pure idiocy around M-21, undoubtedly.
Being without him the last couple of days should have helped with his inner turmoil, but it only made it worse. He'd missed M-21 while he was gone. Been relieved when M-21 returned.
Perhaps it's trauma bonding. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to stop thinking about feeling M-21 up against him, only their clothes separating them, and cocooned in his warmth.
It’s all he can do not to rub his temples in an attempt to push the thoughts away. He’s M-21’s employer, and that would be incredibly inappropriate. Friend or not.
This whole thing is inappropriate.
Soon enough, they’re making excuses - sleep, obviously, and no one seems to think otherwise - and M-21 is haunting his footsteps up the stairs again. Down the hall. Into his room. Then, “Mind if I use your shower?”
Frankenstein blinks and looks over his shoulder at the other man, who’s eying the ensuite with an odd expression. Somewhere between intent and curious. How odd.
It really isn’t necessary, using the ensuite. The household bathroom is only two doors down. And yet… there’s a certain appeal to Frankenstein suddenly. Having M-21 in his shower, smelling like him…
I’m being ridiculous.
“Of course, please make yourself comfortable,” Frankenstein says, mostly to distract himself.
M-21 briefly rests a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, then,” he says, and disappears out the door before Frankenstein can protest.
For a moment, the blond stares at his bed. Like every other time he’s looked at it in the last handful of days, it seems… almost frightening in its breadth and purpose. Which is absurd, and he’s being an absolute child about it.
He forces himself to move. To approach the walk-in closet and go through the motions of choosing sleepwear. He’s pulled on the pants and is deliberating which shirt to use when he hears the door click closed. “I’m in here,” he says, without entirely thinking it through.
There’s silence in answer, and when he glances over his shoulder, M-21 stands in the entrance of the closet, staring at him. His jaw is slightly lax, Frankenstein notes, gaze fixed on the blond’s shoulders.
After a beat, grey eyes jerk up to meet his. “I’m gonna shower. Be back,” he says gruffly, and vanishes before Frankenstein can say anything about it.
He hesitates a moment, before turning and heading to the bed without a shirt. He needs more data, he tells himself. Needs to be able to see what exactly M-21 feels for him. Trauma bonding or not.
The shower turns on then, and Frankenstein realizes that the door is cracked again. Likely for his sake, so he can see him if he needs to. Oh, that must be why M-21 wanted to use his shower. His endless thoughtfulness is humbling.
Not for the first time, he wonders when the last time someone took care of him like this was. A very, very long time ago, obviously. If ever.
He has never regretted serving Master, and he never will. The Noblesse had saved him, in more ways than one, and he would repay that for the rest of his life without reservation.
Even so, it’s… nice, to be considered the way M-21 does. To be thought of, to have his needs and wants preempted in such a way. Like he matters, specifically. Like he’s important to the man.
Drawing a breath, Frankenstein sits on the end of the bed, and looks through the crack. His sheer curtain does little to hide M-21’s body. The muscles, the expanse of slightly tanned skin… the scars.
So many scars. Crombell had been not only cruel, but careless. Or perhaps the lines of white had been on purpose; a way to mark M-21 as his, and Frankenstein wants nothing more than to replace them with his own marks.
Which is silly, and more than a little alarming. He’s been possessive before, but not of people, and not nearly this… territorial. He’s never wanted to mark someone. Certainly not in response to someone else’s branding.
He hears the shower turn off, and jerks his gaze away from M-21’s bare back, shooting to his feet. How much more ridiculous is he going to get about this?
Drawing a silent breath, he climbs into the bed, for lack of anything better to do, and grabs a book. He’s just opened it and is staring blankly at the marked page he left off when he hears the soft sound of the door swinging fully open. When he looks up, he regrets all his life choices at once, because M-21 is also not wearing a shirt.
“You good?” the other man asked, a towel the only thing draping his shoulders.
Frankenstein forces himself to look up at the man’s face, finding a silver brow arched at him. “Ah… yes.” He clears his throat, and gestures toward the other side of the bed. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Smiling a little, M-21 nods, and finishes rubbing the majority of the water out of his hair, before draping the towel over the armchair. It leaves his hair sticking up in spots, looking like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, and Frankenstein can’t help the snort that comes out at the sight.
“Huh? What’s so funny?”
“Your hair,” Frankenstein replies, managing to keep his face straight. “That’s an interesting style you’re going with.”
Grey eyes narrow in mock annoyance. “Brat,” he scoffs, and sticks his tongue out. Then he climbs into the bed next to Frankenstein, and stretches out on top of the blankets.
Frankenstein hesitates, amusement fading into something… less appropriate. “You can sleep under the blanket,” he says, looking down at his book, as if his suggestion is absent minded. Even though it very much isn’t.
That head of pale hair turns slightly, and Frankenstein can feel his gaze on him. He tries to focus on the words before his nose, but they’re blurry, indistinct.
Finally, M-21 shifts his hips, not quite getting up while he tugs the blanket and sheet out from under himself. Frankenstein is acutely aware of the image he makes from the corner of his eye, and turns the page, like he’s actually reading. M-21 settles under the blankets, and stretches his arms above himself, tucking his hands under his head.
“There’s something you should probably know, Frank,” the modified human says after a long moment.
“Hm?” Frank? … why did he like that so much?
“Your book is upside down.”
Frankenstein pauses, and really focuses on the page in front of him. No wonder it had been so unintelligible. “... ah.”
A soft laugh bubbles up past M-21’s lips. “What the hell has you so distracted?”
You, Frankenstein doesn’t say. “Ah, I’m just… thinking about things.” Yes, so very convincing.
“Uh huh,” M-21 says, confirming his worry. He shifts onto his side, looking at Frankenstein dead on, and props himself up on an elbow. “Know what I think?”
Frankenstein regretfully lowers the book to look at him. He both desperately wants to know, and dreads the knowledge.
The other man is smirking, smug and knowing, at his silence. “I think you want my bod.”
… it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard M-21 say, and he can’t help the puff of laughter that comes out. “Your bod? Really?”
M-21 grins and leans in, crowding Frankenstein. The blond is struck by how much he doesn’t mind. “Yeah, it’s great, right? I don’t blame you.”
The other man is making light of it, trying not to spook Frankenstein, clearly. Frankenstein briefly debates how to respond, humor dissipating again. He meets that warm gaze. “... and if I do?” His voice is too-soft, teetering somewhere between hope and dread.
Those grey eyes drop to Frankenstein’s lips, then back up to his face again. “I’d very much like it,” he replies, just as quietly. Careful, taking his cues from Frankenstein.
Drawing a quiet breath, Frankenstein tilts his face closer to M-21’s. “Then kiss me.”
M-21 doesn’t hesitate further. The book is plucked from Frankenstein’s grasp and tossed aside, before the man rolls on top of him, one hand bracing his weight beside Frankenstein’s head. Then that soft mouth is on his, tongue sliding over the seam of his lips. Frankenstein opens his mouth with a sigh, letting him in, and settles back into the pillows as he curls his tongue around the one darting inside.
How long has it been since he kissed someone? Too, too long, and M-21 is surprisingly good at it. It’s enough to make him moan, electricity skittering down his spine with each stroke of M-21’s tongue. Then there’s a hand, feverishly hot, sliding over Frankenstein’s side. It’s scalding, and makes something ache in Frankenstein’s gut, makes him hard as M-21 presses their hips together.
The younger man breaks the kiss, but Frankenstein has no time to protest before M-21’s lips find his throat. Ghosting over his skin in such a way that it makes Frankenstein shudder and squirm. He can feel the man’s smile against his clavicle, and it should annoy him, but instead it makes him want more.
More more more. His greedy nature is surfacing, and he doesn’t fight it for once. Instead, he curls his fingers into that silver hair and arches into the feeling. “Please,” he gasps without hesitation.
M-21’s smile widens, and he nips the skin at the hollow of Frankenstein’s throat, before moving further down. Tongue trailing his skin, just as scalding as the rest of him. His teeth find Frankenstein’s nipple, pressing it between them briefly, and Frankenstein gasps desperately. He tightens his hold on the man’s hair helplessly when M-21 flicks his tongue over the sensitive nub.
“Fuck,” he gasps, grinding his hips up against M-21’s hardness. He’s rewarded with a groan, and a harder bite to the underside of Frankenstein’s pectoral. It hurts, but the pain fades into pleasure when that tongue soothes over his skin.
He shivers as the hand at his side slides down, tugging his sleep pants down with it, to press a thumb into the dip of his hip. Frankenstein can feel his breath against his pelvis, and arches when M-21 pulls his pants down further, freeing his cock from them.
The man makes an appreciative sound. “So beautiful, just like the rest of you,” is murmured against his now-bare thigh. He tries to respond, but the words come out in a strangled whine when M-21 licks a stripe up the underside of his length. “Fuck, you taste delicious.”
Frankenstein squirms, hips trying to come up off the bed, to follow his mouth. Instead, they’re pressed down again with a single hand, and his whimper is rewarded with another pass of M-21’s tongue. His hands must be holding the man so hard, pulling at his hair, but M-21 isn’t protesting.
No, he wraps those lovely lips around Frankenstein’s cock, sucking lightly. Too lightly, too little, and Frankenstein digs his nails into M-21’s scalp. “Please, please, please!” Any other time, he’d be too proud to beg, but right now, all he wants is that beautiful mouth to make him come.
M-21 takes him all the way in, swallowing around the head of his cock, and Frankenstein’s legs are pulling up to squeeze around the man’s shoulders as he throws his head back. Thrashing against the feeling, wanting more, so much more. “M-21, please, please…” he gasps out, breathless.
A hard suck, a swallow, and a scrape of teeth are all it takes to snap that coil inside him, making him come so hard he sees white. Shivering through the aftershocks, he moans when M-21 swallows one more time before pulling back. He wipes drool and semen from the corner of his mouth, and moves back up Frankenstein to kiss him.
Frankenstein can taste himself on M-21’s lips, in his mouth, and he greedily chases the combined flavors of them both. Lapping at it like the finest wine. His hands lower from M-21’s hair to his shoulders, then his sides. “Let me,” he gasps between kisses. “I want to…”
Kissing him one more time, M-21 breathes, “Alright.” He shifts, tugging off his pants with little fanfare. Frankenstein realizes his own didn’t get past his knees, and kicks them off over the edge of the bed.
Then he shoves M-21’s chest hard, forcing him onto his back with a surprised grunt. The other man chuckles. “Eager,” he teases.
That smart mouth needs to stop making words, Frankenstein muses, and kisses a trail down his chest. He pauses only briefly to taste his nipples, one at a time - to M-21’s obvious, and loud, pleasure - before he moves down his abdomen. His stomach, surprisingly unmarred, is paler than the rest of him, and his skin tastes of sweat.
Frankenstein dips his tongue into M-21’s bellybutton, eliciting a surprising gasp. He does it again, and M-21 reaches up to thread his fingers through Frankenstein’s longer hair, shuddering. It makes Frankenstein feel… oddly powerful, more so than any of his scientific exploits have.
“Fuck,” M-21 gasps, arching.
A sort of sadistic thrill goes through Frankenstein, and in a deliberate roll reversal, he pins the other man down. “Ah, ah, ah,” he chides, smirking. “I’m in charge now. Be good.”
M-21 moans at his words, and visibly forces himself to settle again. “S-sorry,” he gasps when Frankenstein nibbles at his thigh. He’s shaking with the effort, and Frankenstein decides his obedience deserves its own requite. He trails his lips up that soft skin, reaching the junction between hip and thigh, and grins at the resulting whimper. “Fuck.”
“What do we say?” Frankenstein purrs against pale flesh, resting his cheek against the side of M-21’s cock.
“Say?” M-21 sounds… out of it. It’s… very attractive, if Frankenstein’s being honest. “Ah… pl… please?”
Frankenstein grins. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and takes the head of M-21’s cock into his mouth. The other man’s hips give an aborted jerk before he struggles to keep them still. Such a good boy. He meets the modified human’s gaze, which is half-mast and hazy, and sucks hard.
M-21 gasps and whines, hands tightening in Frankenstein’s hair. “God, fuck.”
Heh. Swirling his tongue over the head, Frankenstein tries to go as far down as M-21 had, but finds himself choking a bit. The man is ridiculously large in this department, and Frankenstein is almost jealous of his apparent lack of gag reflex. Except him choking seems to have had quite the effect on M-21, because the man is shaking, eyes rolling back.
He’s hard as a rock in Frankenstein’s mouth, salty precum leaking onto Frankenstein’s tongue. It tastes interestingly good, and he sucks again to pull out more of it. M-21 is whimpering and squirming, words falling from his lips that are positively filthy. A crass mouth isn’t something that Frankenstein ever thought he’d find so sexy, but apparently with M-21 it’s different.
“Fuck, yes, oh god, please milk my cock. Taste it, oh fuck, drink me, fuck!”
He sounds like a bad porno, but it makes Frankenstein want to try harder. To make him come in his mouth, make him beg. So he pulls his mouth back off of him, instead running his tongue over the slit of his head, and is viciously pleased when M-21 bucks helplessly. “Such a dirty mouth. I’m tempted to make you use it for more appropriate things,” he purrs.
The breath M-21 lets out is half-whine and all shake. “Please, please make me come,” he pleads, eyes visibly moist, even from Frankenstein’s vantage. It’s enough to make Frankenstein want to get him to cry. Just so he can drink up his tears, imprint himself on M-21’s body.
See to it that M-21 will never be able to forget him.
Honestly, Frankenstein sees no problem in following that instinct, and instead of going right back onto that tasty cock, he starts kissing and nipping the sensitive skin around it. He can feel the prick of claws in his hair, though M-21 seems to be trying not to hurt him, despite himself.
Hm. How much would it take to make him forget that?
“Fuck, please, I need…”
“Need what?” Frankenstein murmurs into his flesh, smiling. He bites the space there, hard, and M-21 lets out a shuddering keen.
“Your mouth!” A trembling gasp when Frankenstein lathes his tongue over the space. He clearly likes the pain.
Frankenstein wonders if that says anything in particular, but pushes the thought away in favor of lapping up the sweat from M-21’s groin. Nosing into the fine, almost translucent, hair there that trails up the bottom of his stomach. “Good boy, using your words.”
That’s definitely a tear trailing down M-21’s cheek, and Frankenstein’s sadism simmers in favor of making sure the other man is okay. “Do you need me to stop?”
“Please don’t,” M-21 begs desperately, fingers clenching in Frankenstein’s hair as if to keep him right there.
Well, that’s good. Frankenstein smiles, and kisses up the side of his length, nudging the head with his tongue. There it is- the helpless dig of claws, and Frankenstein rewards his break in control with the slide of his mouth over that dripping cock. M-21 is writhing beneath him, thrusting up into his mouth. It makes him choke, but he swallows the discomfort, and the end of him.
He rakes his teeth over the base of the cock in his mouth, and with an almost-frenzied yowl, M-21 comes. Frankenstein feels something burning-hot hit the back of his throat, almost making him choke again, and he sucks harder to drag the sensations out.
Finally, though, the other man is slumping weakly beneath him, and Frankenstein pulls back with a gasp. He can feel something warm and wet sliding down his chin, and wipes it off with his palm. Under hazy grey eyes, their gazes locked, Frankenstein licks it clean, tasting spit and cum.
M-21 shudders, and a hand reaches out, wobbly and trembling, for Frankenstein. Pleased, sated and tired, Frankenstein climbs up to settle in the warmth of his arms. He reaches up to rest his hand on M-21’s chest, feeling the slowing thump of that werewolf heart beneath his fingertips. “How do you feel?” he whispers, resting his head against M-21’s shoulder.
“Fuckin’ great,” the other man slurs. “Tired.”
“Mm. We should rest, then,” Frankenstein says, smirking sleepily himself.
M-21 mumbles something, but it’s incoherent, and Frankenstein has no interest in getting him to repeat himself. For once, warm and safe in M-21’s arms, he welcomes sleep.
It comes easier than he expected.
xXx
M-21 doesn’t wake until the sun hits his face from the window, and even then it’s a reluctant affair. The body beside him, half-curled into his own, is warmer than usual, but that’s probably because Frankenstein spent the night in his arms. At some point, he even pulled the blanket up over them.
Groggily, brain still coming to life, M-21 remembers last night. Frankenstein had been obliging and putty under his hands until M-21 made him orgasm. Then all bets were off, and he became a completely different animal. Domineering, sadistic, commanding. Fuck if M-21 hadn’t loved it.
He can smell the faint scent of copper, and frowns as he looks at the older man. There are a few spots of blood amongst that golden hair, and an ugly guiltiness bubbles up in his chest. He hurt him.
“I can feel your panic from here,” the blond mumbles against his chest. “Regretting sleeping with me?”
“No,” M-21 immediately refutes, not wanting him to think that for even a moment. “I hurt you, is all.”
Blue eyes lift, blinking away sleep as he peers at M-21 in confusion. Understanding dawns when M-21 glances toward his hair, and he scoffs. “I was quite determined to get you mindless enough to do it. Don’t worry so much.”
… what? “You were?”
Frankenstein nods, closing his eyes as he rests his head on M-21’s shoulder again. “Mmhm. It made me feel very in control. Does that bother you?”
When he puts it like that? No, not even a little bit. “Maybe figure out ways not to let me break the skin next time, though,” he mutters, nosing into Frankenstein’s hair.
This closeness, this intimacy, is strange. Not in a bad way. He enjoys it, and he’s more than happy to do it as many times as Frankenstein needs, even if only to help him sleep. However, he doesn’t want it to stop; not when he’s surrounded in the scent of the man, smooth skin pressed against him, a light ache in his thigh from where Frankenstein bit him.
He’s not sure how to ask, though. Being blunt might be best from his standpoint, but he isn’t sure it won’t make Frankenstein back off. There’s a difference between physical chemistry and mental logic, especially where Frankenstein is concerned.
“If you keep it up, you’re going to bore a hole in my head,” Frankenstein speaks up again, lightly slapping his ribs. “I can feel your heart going a mile a minute. Talk, unless you want me to make you.”
The idea makes M-21 shiver, but Frankenstein’s right. They do actually need to talk about this. “I don’t… intend to push you on the matter,” he says after a beat, “but last night was… important to me, personally. It doesn’t have to be the same for you. That’s okay, if it isn’t, and it not being the same doesn’t mean I’ll be going anywhere, or won’t sleep with you if you want or need it. But… I would like to know where your head is at.”
Frankenstein listens to him patiently as he speaks, going so far as to look up at him once more. His expression is hard to read as he does, and it leaves M-21 feeling a little anxious. He seems to be considering the words, weighing them perhaps, against his own feelings. “I do like you, M-21,” he begins, and M-21 can practically see the but coming. “But I don’t share. I’m quite possessive, and demanding.”
That isn’t the ‘but’ he was expecting. “Um.”
“And territorial. If you can’t handle that, you need to say so now.”
If he can’t handle that? Fuck, he can handle anything, if he gets to keep the man, even if only for a little while. “That’s fair… I have a tendency to hover and be overprotective.”
Frankenstein snorts. “I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, and leans up to kiss him, brief and chaste, on the lips.
M-21 lifts his hand to cup the back of Frankenstein’s head, deepening the kiss a moment before Frankenstein bites his bottom lip scoldingly and tugs back. “You didn’t answer my statement.”
Right. In M-21’s defense, he got distracted. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh good.”
A little while later, after a shower that stretched out when Frankenstein demanded he make him come again, they go downstairs to find food. Most of the others are gone, either at work or investigating, with the exception of Tao.
Who turns slightly pink and avoids their gazes, stammering out an excuse before fleeing upstairs.
M-21 can’t help but laugh at the techie, seeing an answering grin on Frankenstein’s face. “I think they heard.”
“Yes… I may need to soundproof the rooms,” Frankenstein agrees, heading for the kitchen.
Following him, M-21 shrugs. “Maybe Rai’s and Takeo’s,” he admits, smirking when he gets a blond brow arched at him. “What? I like people knowing you’re mine.”
“Oh? Perhaps I’m not the only territorial one, then,” Frankenstein says impishly, to M-21’s relief. Unoffended by the possessive turn of phrase.
The younger man is beginning to wonder when he’ll find a line Frankenstein won’t let him cross. He very much wants to search for it. Wants Frank to punish him for it. Apparently I have a kink.
Or maybe it’s just Frank. It’s probably just Frank.
Fuck, I’m screwed. Literally and figuratively. He’d known he liked the man, but he didn’t expect to grow so attached so quickly once he had the green light. “The more you learn,” he mutters.
“Mm?” Frank gives him a curious look.
“Nothing.”
Frank doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t push it. “Omelet or scrambled eggs and bacon?”
“Omelet?” M-21 answers, in the form of a question for some reason. Mostly, he’s thrown off by the thought of Frank cooking for him- but then, it isn’t the first time Frank has cooked. Just the first time he’s doing so for just the two of them.
Those lips curl up at the corners. “Alright,” he says, and starts getting out bowls to go with the ingredients he’d pulled out while M-21 was distracted.
The younger man leans back against the kitchen island and watches him move about the room. The soft fabric of his white button-down does little to hide the lines of his back, though the skin itself is shielded from view. He finds himself wanting to look at his ass again, but he can’t bring himself to stop him from cooking.
He’s famished.
Instead, he pushes away from the island and stalks silently up behind him, settling his hands on the man’s hips. He fits himself against his back, pleased when Frank leans back into him. “I’m cooking,” the blond chides lightly, though he doesn’t sound bothered.
So M-21 hums and buries his nose in his hair, not caring that the man is taller. That doesn’t matter; just the slightly tangy scent of him, part shampoo and part just him. “I’m not stopping you,” he mutters after a moment.
“You’re being clingy.”
M-21 pauses, pulling his face back. “Is it bothering you? I can’t tell.”
For a moment, Frank doesn’t answer that, whisking the omelet mixture together in a bowl. Then, “No. Not here, at home.”
Obviously not at work. He’d never be able to focus. “What about in front of the others? Do you want to keep a distance?”
“Hm.” Frank seems to consider that, and when he moves to the stove, M-21 steps back to let him. Once he’s still again, the younger man wraps his arms around his waist and presses his forehead to Frank’s shoulder blades. “If you don’t mind, I don’t mind. It’s not like it’s much of a secret, given Tao’s reaction.”
Valid.
M-21 grins a little, and nuzzles his back until Frank reaches back and pinches his hip. “Stop trying to distract me.”
“I’m not trying to distract you,” M-21 replies, even as he shifts a hand up to spread out over Frank’s chest. The man is so slender, and M-21 finds himself enthralled by that.
He is also, he would like to note, trying to distract Frank.
Frank’s movements are smooth, unhurried, and calm as he turns the heat down on the pan a little and sets aside the spoon. Then M-21 finds himself being slammed back against the counter, the granite digging into his spine.
“I said, stop trying to distract me.” In complete contrast to his stance, his voice is soft and serene, and his gaze meets M-21’s. It makes the younger man shiver, cock starting to harden. “Are you going to be good and get a reward, or do I have to disable you so I can finish breakfast?”
M-21 isn’t sure how to answer that, except to ask, “What reward?”
Frank lifts a brow at him, visibly unimpressed. “Answer the question, M-21.”
… “You might have to disable me,” he admits without a moment of guilt.
Something amused flickers through those blue eyes. “Hm. Honesty gets its own reward, I suppose. Sit down next to the table.”
It’s a little embarrassing how quickly M-21 moves to obey the moment the other man’s hand lifts away. He doesn’t dwell, instead sitting at the table in the adjoining dining room.
Frank approaches with zipties, and effortlessly secures M-21’s wrists to the arms of the chair. “Stay,” he says, and leans down to kiss him, brief and sweet.
He can easily break free, of course, but that’s not the point. He doesn’t want to. This makes Frank feel powerful, and it makes M-21 feel like he’s the center of the man’s attention. He likes it.
“Okay,” M-21 breathes as Frank steps back.
A faint smile. “Good boy.”
M-21 watches his ass as he walks back to the stove. There’s an odd fuzz at the base of his skull, like he’d drunk just enough to get pleasantly buzzed. He considers the feeling thoughtfully. It’s not bad, but it is affecting his ability to think more clearly. “Um…”
Blue eyes find his face as Frank approaches with a plate. “What is it?” he asks, settling himself in M-21’s lap. His weight is enjoyable enough that M-21 doesn’t answer immediately. Frank sets down the plate on the table and looks at him assessingly. “M-21?”
“Oh, sorry.” M-21 shakes his head to clear that strange fog. He sees that there are two omelets on the plate, one for each of them. “I… feel weird.”
“Weird in a bad way?” Frank asks, brow furrowing. “Should I untie you?”
“No, not bad, you don’t have to until you’re ready,” M-21 tells him quickly, watching that concern ebb away. “Just… a little off.”
Frank reaches up to brush his hair from his eyes, smiling in understanding. “It’s alright. I’m here, just relax. I’m going to feed you.”
Oh. That… that sounds good.
“But remind me later that we’re going to need to have a more in-depth conversation about this behavioral exchange,” the blond adds gently.
“Okay.”
xXx
There have been eyes on them all evening, ever since the others returned from work. Frankenstein ignores it, reading and occasionally letting M-21 feed him pieces of fruit. The other man is seated on the couch next to him, legs in his lap, providing a rather excellent arm rest while Frankenstein reads. They've been this way for about an hour now as M-21 fiddles with his phone.
Master and Takeo have taken the love seat, and are murmuring quietly between themselves. It's kind of cute, if Frankenstein's being honest.
He can hear Seira in the kitchen, and somewhere upstairs is the click-clack of Tao's laptop, going far too fast to be good for the poor device. He's still avoiding the rest of them, which seems to be an endless source of amusement for M-21.
"Do you want to go on dates?"
Frankenstein takes his time finishing the paragraph he's on before he looks up at the man half sprawled on top of him. "Dates?" he echoes, brows lifting. "Like dinners?"
"Yeah, or other outings. Just the two of us. Is that something you'd be interested in?" M-21 asks, looking thoughtful.
Would he? Hm. "I don't think I've ever gone on one."
M-21 blinks at him, and half sits up. "Really? Never?"
"I'm a homosexual immortal with more pressing priorities than romance, so no. Never."
The younger man snorts. "Yeah, you're kind of scary," he relents, flopping back against the arm of the couch again.
Frankenstein frowns at him. "Does it bother you?"
"Huh?" The modified human blinks at him in confusion. "You being scary?" At Frankenstein's nod, he snorts. "No. I think it's sexy. Hell, it was even sexy when you nearly killed my dumb ass."
A little niggle of guilt surfaces at the reminder. "Ah, I-"
"Don't you dare apologize."
Frankenstein's mouth closes with a click. He somehow keeps forgetting how observant the man is. "It won't happen again."
M-21 sits up, shifting so he doesn't need to be stretched out, but his legs are still in Frankenstein's lap. "I know that. You don't scare me," he says softly, meeting Frankenstein's gaze. "You can be scary, but that's not who you are."
The distinction is… very much appreciated. "I would like to kiss you."
M-21 grins. "Is that all it takes?" he teases, but then he shifts again, pulling those firm legs off Frankenstein's lap. He leans in, a little eagerly, and they kiss. It's sweet, and soft, and Frankenstein feels very… warm about it.
It's broken by M-21’s snickers after Takeo makes a rather loud squeak. Clearly, he's just surfaced from his own bubble.
Grinning, M-21 looks over at the pink-faced man. "Really? This is tame, Tak."
Takeo covers his face with a hand. "Sorry. Reflex," he mumbles.
"You don't need to apologize," Master tells him quietly.
Which does absolutely nothing to abate the man's embarrassment, Frankenstein notes in amusement. “I know, I know,” comes Takeo’s muffled words.
Beside Frankenstein, M-21 is still smirking, but he puts his feet back in Frankenstein’s lap and resumes his previous position. “Relax. We’re not going to start having sex on the couch.”
Well. Not in front of anyone else, certainly.
“I didn’t need that mental image, thanks,” Takeo replies, dropping his hands to glower at M-21.
Who looks completely unperturbed. It’s, somewhat surprisingly, fairly attractive. In any case, Frankenstein supposes he has enough data to conclude his investigation.
He is absolutely in love with the idiot.