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Blood-Soaked Snow

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Kant’s sword sunk into Tiefedorf’s abdomen. His white shirt was instantly soaked with blood, and it started dripping onto the snow under foot. They were still for a moment, then moved in unison. Kant pulled his weapon out and Tiefedorf took a step back, lurching.

Kant stared at the blood covered tip of his sword, frozen with a sense of unreality. He’d been so accustomed to Tiefedorf avoiding his attacks with unnatural speed and grace, that he usually never expected… to make contact. Especially not like this.

Tiefedorf hunched over, clutching at his wound. His white glove was ruined. Kant, feeling sick, reached out for him. Tiefedorf took another step back, his hat falling off as he wobbled. He seemed about to say something, but decided against it, instead disappearing in his usual whirlwind of black feathers.

Kant let his sword fall onto the ground. He fell onto one knee and picked up Tiefedorf’s hat, gazing at the blood soaked snow.

 


 

“He will recover,” Zeal had said, his words puncturing the silence in their apartment. “It may have looked serious, but he isn’t human.”

“He bleeds like one, though,” Kant said.

“You’ve seen him bleed before,” Zeal said stiffly. “Our fight isn’t something pleasant, or safe. Drastic action has to be taken to stop him and the others from the forest of darkness.”

Kant looked at Tiefedorf’s hat, turning it around in his hands. He knew all that, of course. It didn’t make him feel better.

 


 

Tiefedorf came back exactly two weeks later.

Kant hadn’t been keeping track. He definitely hadn’t. (He had).

He looked the same as ever, but didn’t have his mask on (or his hat, of course). Tiefedorf didn’t waste time greeting him, grabbing him by the shirt and pulled him a long, hard kiss. Ah, that explained the lack of mask. 

Kant was thankful that Zeal had said he wouldn’t be back for a few hours.

Tiefedorf let him pull back so he could gasp for air. He looked at him with cold violet eyes, not out of breath in the slightest. “It seems I underestimated you,” he said.

“Uh— I wasn’t trying to kill you, I swear—” Kant said.

Tiefedorf pressed a gloved finger to Kant’s lips, smiling unnervingly at him. “I need to make something clear,” he said. He leaned in to speak into his ear, breath ghosting on the side of Kant’s face. “I will not give you any mercy, and I expect you to do the same.”

Kant sighed softly. “I can’t do that,” he said.

Tiefedorf put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “You are a fool, like all heroes are,” he said. “Now, on your knees.”

Kant did as he was told. He tilted his face up and Tiefedorf cupped the side of it, thumb rubbing at his lip. Kant undid the fly of his trousers and the last few buttons of his shirt. He pushed one side of the shirt back, looking at the pink line of his healed wound. Kant pressed a kiss against it.

“You are so soft,” Tiefedorf said, sounding almost disgusted.

Kant looked up at him again, smiling slightly. “Sorry,” he said.

Tiefedorf pushed his head down impatiently. Kant held his cock, lifting it up so he could kiss and lick at the underside. He took the head into his mouth and sucked, humming as he felt it become erect. Tiefedorf made a pleased sound, putting a gloved hand on the back of his neck. 

It didn’t take Kant long to get him to come, as he knew exactly how he liked it. He closed his eyes as his face was covered with spurts of semen. Tiefedorf pulled a glove off, rubbing some of it into his cheek using his thumb. Kant thought his face looked slightly softer. Tiefedorf licked the semen off his thumb, then did up his fly and shirt buttons. Kant hadn’t gotten his own orgasm, but he was fine with that.

Kant got up and went to the bathroom, washing his face. As he patted his face dry, Tiefedorf came in behind him. He caught a glimpse of violet eyes and dark lips in the mirror before Tiefedorf pressed against his back, winding an arm around his waist and burying his face in his neck.

Tiefedorf was still, the soft puffs of his breath his only movement. Kant opened his mouth, wondering if he should ask if something was wrong, then gasped as he was bitten hard. The sensation shot straight to his half-hard erection. Tiefedorf slid his ungloved hand down his pants and took hold of his cock, slowly pumping it.

“Feeling generous?” Kant said. Tiefedorf would leave him high and dry more often than not.

“Shut up,” Tiefedorf said, slightly muffled. “Not that I have the time at the moment, but you’re overdue for punishment.” His hand tightened around his cock, thumbnail pressing into the head. “It’ll be retribution.”

“Please don’t stab m— ah!” He gasped again as Tiefedorf bit him a second time. He was right, it had been a while since they’d done that. Just thinking about it was enough to get him to come far too quickly, making a mess inside his pants.

Tiefedorf withdrew his hand, licking some of the semen off and turning on the tap to wash off the rest. Kant watched in the mirror as he pulled his mask out from somewhere in his coat. He put it on, looking at his reflection to check that both it and his lipstick were in order.

Tiefedorf left the bathroom, going to Kant’s desk to pick up his hat and put it on. Then he made his way to the front door, putting a hand on the handle and turning to look back at Kant. “I’ll be seeing you,” he said, lips curved in a satisfied smirk. 

Kant stood in the bathroom doorway, gazing at this tall, dark, not-so-strange man. Somebody out of a fantasy, standing there in his ordinary apartment. His enemy. He had things he wanted to say, but they got stuck in his throat. Tiefedorf opened the door and was gone, leaving behind the chill of the cold evening.