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Kindred Spirits Complete	By : RedelliaValentinos Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom Views: 507 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, I don't own any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story, I write this purely for the enjoyment of writing. It's just me and a keyboard and my wild brain.

Chapter List
- 62
- 63
- 64
The first time Vlad got up to find a freshly killed buck on his doorstep, he was startled. Mortified even. He nearly jumped out of his skin. When the terror passed, and he observed the wounds, it came to him relatively quickly that he could probably suspect Daniel had left it for him. Which, while...sweet of him, Vlad strains to feel anything beyond that because it's hell to clean drying blood from marble. In the moment, the frustration and elbow grease of scrubbing far outweighed the gesture. But he does succeed.
"But why did he just leave it there? Why didn't he announce himself?"
The question is valid and makes him worry a little. He doesn't dwell on it. He has a kill to prepare.
He broke the animal down as best as he could. Threw out what wasn't edible, and dumped the rest outside at a fair distance from the manor if he didn't know what to do with it. The wild population would be well fed. And so would he. Never one for hunting before, he had to buy books for decent recipes. Those books also offered tips for proper butchering and even gave suggestions and notes on things that hadn't occured to him. When he realized how much he'd actually wasted, he started looking for craftsmen nearby who were willing to take the bones and pelt if it happened again.
Yet, even with incomplete or improper disposal, he was happy to be rid of the mess.
The next time they went out together, he considered asking the youth about it. Why he did it. Why he left it, why did he not show himself. But Danny didn't say anything. Danny didn't even look off kilter. As if it hadn't happened. It left both Vlad and Plasmius quite thoroughly confused. They chose not to ask about it.
But he had to admit, mess and all, game meat was really far more suitable for his palate. For an entire month, he ate like a prince. It's one thing to live like one and quite another to eat like it. His recipe box was bursting with concoctions and ideas. HIs knives were dulling some, but their use meant nutrition. Proper nutrition. He was just starting to figure out how to blend his grandmother's slavic traditions with the meat when he realized he was running out.
It took him a month, it would've taken longer if he hadn't wasted so much of the animal the first time around, but, irregardless, he was running out.
Just when he was considering taking up hunting for his food, the morning he pulled the last pack of ground meat from his freezer, he stepped outside...and found a doe on his steps. Along with a fresh blanket of snow everywhere that was not in the forecast and tiny prints actively fading in fresh fluff.
Vlad leaned against the doorframe for several minutes, just staring at the deer on his stoop.
''Well,'' he sighed, ''at least I don't have to freeze.''
Plasmius chuckled from within, but said nothing.
He was more efficient about the use of the animal this time.
...the next month, there's a pair of small hares on the steps. Laid out neatly. Along with a few twigs. When he picks them up and sniffs at them, he realizes they're rosemary. Which doesn't grow in Wisconsin.
''You've gotta be kidding me.''
''He's resourceful, I'll give him that.''
The hares get him several meals despite their size.
And then the pheasants show up a month after that.
''Alright, this is getting ridiculous."
Vlad stuffs the pheasants in the freezer, stomps up to his room and rips his dresser open. He changes into the warmest sweater and fleece lined pants he can find, grabs his coat, and changes forms. The intent, to touch down in the least intimidating form as possible, human, and by consequence, have as little sharp bits of metal pointed at him as he can.
His way of meaning well.
-
It's been a long time since his last trip to the Far Frozen. But this matter warrants a visit. It warrants the trip and the abhorrent freeze he'll put his body through because he's getting the feeling that he's in over his head.
It shouldn't be too difficult to get himself above water, but he has no tomes for imps. He has no reading material to understand what he's in for. And the Far Frozen is the oldest point in the Ghost Zone that he can safely access.
He follows his typical path for a while. Dodging doors and stairs and rubble. And rubble. And more rubble, and...
"What the hell?"
There should be outposts along his path. An ancient temple. The stained glass door is missing, the one that Danny had been drawn to. And in its place is a trail of glass shards leading off to nowhere. Bones. Pieces of gravestones and wrought iron twisted and mangled. Stray cuts of fabric and crystal float where they shouldn't. Shreds of wood fibers from other doors nearly tangle in his hair. And heaps of realm and land, all in tatters.
All off course.
Mercifully, he picks up the cold draft to follow. Without landmarks, his sense of direction in the drifting void is useless. He manages to find his way to the island safely. There's no armed guard to shove spears in his face when he touches down.
He changes over without a sound and slowly makes his way through the snow.
It's a bit of a trudge. It takes quite a bit of effort. Despite his long standing residence in Wisconsin, Vlad doesn't make a habit of outdoor treks, and so he's not used to tromping through half of his height in condensed fluff and permafrost. The heat in his body helps some, easing the path slightly. One step at a time. But he makes it to the village, where several inhabitants take notice of his presence. A few give mild glares, but he's had worse.
He starts to step onto the level ground, and nearly slips on the icy walk, but a large hand stops him from breaking his nose.
"If I'd known you were coming, I would have instructed you to just land at the square."
Vlad huffs and looks up at Frostbite. He must look ridiculous, sweating and red in the face from the effort of stomping his way over the mildly treacherous landscape.
"I'm here because I need to know what I'm getting into.''
''In regards to the boy, I take it?" Frostbite straightens.
Vlad nods.
The snowbeast leads him into the village, past a few guards that eye Vlad with suspicion. They don't like most outsiders, they never have. And he understands that the last outsider that came to their home cracked the island. In fact, Frostbite walks him over what appears to be a brand new bridge. Casting his eyes out over the inhabited terrain shows that the crack is actually a full split. And several bridges, in actuality, have been erected to help the villagers manage.
And it clicks.
''Daniel did this?!'' he asks.
Frostbite chuckles. ''Yes, he's a frightful little thing. Or at least he was. I've not seen him in quite some time. Poor thing probably thinks we're all mad at him.''
A few voices shout across the village, ''We are!''
The halfa winces.
The yeti pays the micro-unrests no mind.
"You said he cracked the island, but I didn't think he rewrote the Zonescape."
''As I said. A frightful little thing. But, not to worry. The damage has been accommodated."
Vlad swallows, "Yes, but..." He glances at the clean split running clear through the frozen land one more time, "This is not at all what I was expecting."
"He'll need a firm hand on him."
"Or a leash, as I already suggested."
"Not now," the halfa grits under his breath.
The chieftain looks back at the man, ''Tell me, has he grown any? He was barely past your waist when I saw him last.''
Vlad smirks. ''He's grown.''
''What of that foul mouth of his? Have you washed it out, yet?''
Trudging through the snow and keeping to Frostbite's tracks, he laughs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.
''Not yet. I doubt it would do me much good, and he'd likely eat my hand if I tried.''
The belt of laughter lightens the tension of the village air. They make their way into the medlab and Frostbite sculpts a bench out of ice for Vlad to sit on. Shuddering significantly less at the cave temps, he does.
''I nee-''
''-You need to know what the courting behaviors are for imps,'' the yeti cuts him off.
Vlad pauses, then wraps his arms around himself and nods, "How did you know?"
"He's at that age, and his instincts are no longer fueled by human needs. He's also young and quite bold."
Vlad grunts in acknowledgment.
''Imps are very rare creatures. The last ones we bore witness to were eliminated centuries ago.''
''Why?''
''They were corrupted,'' the beast answers quietly, ''Not by natural forces, fear not. That's a story for another time. But... It simply became a matter of survival. It was us...or them.''
''So there's nothing, then,'' Vlad mutters disgruntled, ''Just what I needed. More guess work.''
''I didn't say that,'' Frostbite leans back against the edge of a table and crosses his arms, ''I just said they're rare. I studied them plenty when their existence was prosperous.''
''Then what am I getting myself into?'' Vlad bites. He came for a reason, with a set goal in mind, and it's freezing and he wants to leave as soon as possible.
''Well, courting is really quite primitive for them. It starts with food provision.''
Vlad's eyes flicker, ''He's been leaving animals on my steps and I don't think he's aware he's doing it. I'm not...unhappy, per se, but I know how to feed myself and blood stains granite after a while.''
Frostbite chuckles, but a flash of relief crosses his features. ''That's good. That's... It's perfectly normal behavior.''
''What else?''
''Well, for imps, the next step would be to build a nest. They like silk and down, primarily, but they'll raid camps and huts for anything soft. We lost a few tapestries to one when I was a pup. They're also incredibly territorial and protective of their mates, and will fight for dominance over land and breeding rights if they have to.''
Vlad hums in understanding.
''After that, vocalizations to draw in their chosen companion, and then intercourse.''
''...that's it?'' Vlad balks in disbelief, ''Really?!''
Frostbite grunts in affirmation, ''For normal imps, yes.''
Vlad stands up, ''I came all the way out here and froze half to death for that?''
Frostbite smiles. A large, toothy grin that just rubs all the fibers of the halfa's being the wrong way before it devolves into a laugh. One that's sprinkled with amusement, but sings of danger.
''There's more,'' he utters in quiet horror.
''Sit,'' Frostbite orders softly, and Vlad does, ''This information may be lined in gold, but it's set in plaster. Not stone.''
''...What?''
''Listen to me very carefully... In normal imps, this all applies. I cannot say for certain what will apply in Snowdrift's case. The two of you break the bough simply by existing, as it is.''
Vlad gulps.
''In regards to your cases, I am learning as we go. I have plenty of documentation on spectral behavior and life cycles, and I personally own the only known texts regarding imps. But don't think for a minute that Snowdrift is going to follow the rules.''
''...okay.''
''Once human elements are tossed in, it becomes a little different. Add in the aspects of your partial deaths, and you have an unclassified creature unintended for any state of existence. I am versed in human behaviors, as well as imp and gargoyle. You've made studying relatively easy, but you're only one subject. And Ancients help us when more little gargoyles start running around.''
"...why did he say when?"
Vlad swallows around a lump in his throat.
''Now, with that in mind, I can tell you that you shouldn't be looking at any anatomical surprises when it finally happens. The only one to worry about that sort of thing will be him, should you two rotate,'' he sees the rekindled horror on Vlad's face, ''Yes, I'm aware of every detail on your body. For you, taking everything should be rather straightforward. I will warn you that he'll most likely bite to mark his territory, and that's if he doesn't bite during intercourse. He'll probably scent you rather frequently. Just as a means of connecting.''
The pink of the cold turns cherry at his remarks and floods upwards. Heat gathers in his horns, and he can feel it, which more than likely means Frostbite can see it. But he's listening. And he's not liking where the yeti's words are going.
''Why are you talking as if I'm the one that's going to...''
Frostbite raises a brow at him, which just confuses Vlad even further.
''Really?''
''What?'' Vlad asks. He motions for the beast to continue.
Frostbite levels a strange glare, and in a low tone the halfa doesn't recognize, ''Stand up.''
Vlad looks at him nervously, ''Why?''
''Because I said so. Get up.''
He hesitantly rises to his feet. Plasmius rumbles with an air of distrust.
''Do you trust me?'' the beast asks calmly.
''Yes,'' Vlad answers quickly.
A large, icy hand rests on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. It calms him a little.
''Good.''
Claws twist into his hair and before he can stop it, Vlad finds himself face down on the table Frostbite had been leaning against, and his hands are twisted behind his back. Trapped in the grasp of a single hand, while the other has wrapped his hair around it and is pressing his face to the ice-cold surface.
He blinks in surprise, and then kicks furiously behind him.
''What the hell?! Let go of me!'' he fights as hard as he can, but finds his strength evenly matched by the snowbeast despite his best efforts, ''What are you doing?! Let m-''
Soft fur and fabric presses against his back side, prompting him to freeze. His blush darkens even more. There's nothing else pressing against him. Nothing firm. Nothing threatening. But the implications run wild in his brain, right past the library doors and giggle their way through the halls. Jovial little beads of color that sink their talons into his hormones and drag them kicking and screaming into a conga line.
''You may think you're dominant, and perhaps, with humans, you probably are. You're still half alive, for better or worse. There's bound to be a few human traits left in you," the beast leans down, crowding cold fur against him, "But I get the feeling that when it comes to the boy, you're a pushover. And from where I'm standing, this is all I've done, and you smell like you're almost ready to beg.''
Vlad hears what's akin to something being swatted, and realizes Plasmius is trying to chase the dots of light away.
"Loathe as I am to admit it, the abominable heap is correct. You're much softer with him around."
The halfa mentally snarls at the demon. Though, it's born more out of embarrassment than disagreement.
''Under the right conditions, you'll bend. Even I will, if the moment is right. So, I'll say it one more time... Taking everything should be straightforward. He'll bite. He might bite more than once. He's just marking his territory.''
The firm hold keeping him planted on the table and precariously perched on the edge of madness releases. Shaking, he straightens up.
''Now. Come with me.''
He's woozy from the rush. Of heat, of hormones, and decades of an unscratched itch, despite his best attempts and late night tantrums. He's woozy enough that he follows blindly. They turn at a fork in the ice cave, where an actual, solid metal door stands. Not the sort of construct he'd expect to find in a place like this. Frostbite opens it and leads him in, and shuts it behind them as quietly as possible.
He proceeds to a counter with a set of cabinets and rifles through them. He pulls out a light blue tunic that beasts of the Far Frozen have no business or benefit in having. It's far smaller than anything they'd need. And cut to human proportions. It's passed to Vlad, who eyes it suspiciously in his hands. It's made of a fine, very soft material that slides across his palms easily.
And it feels brand new.
''This looks like it was made recently,'' he voices, more suspicion welling up in his chest.
''It was. For you. It was sewn after the pup's transformation.''
Vlad blinks. ''Okay. One, where did you get my measurements, and two, you knew this was coming and planned for it, and you didn't tell me?!''
''If you'll recall,'' the yeti bites, ''I scanned you when you first brought the boy here. As for the other matter, yes. I knew it was coming, planned for it, and didn't tell you. There was no sense in trying to tell you that you were going to be pinned at some point. Especially with your mental state at the time. All I had to do was wait. Now, to ensure that you can handle the rest of what's coming your way, I need to perform a proper exam. As difficult as you can be, I don't wish to see you injured in such a manner.''
Vlad gawks at him, ''Why would I be injured?! What else are you not telling me?!''
''Imps are not humans. They do not copulate in the same sense that humans do. While he may engage in typical intercourse, it's not the same. There's normal imps, and then there's the boy. Normal imps rut. I need to be sure you can handle a rut.''
If Vlad was still cold before, he's not cold anymore. His skin burns red in every layer, beneath every inch of his plush winter clothing, rushing down from horn to toe.
"But you said he might not follow the normal behaviors."
"Is that a risk you're willing to take?"
The halfa winces.
''That's what I thought. Undress and put that on. When you're done, I suggest you let that pesky monstrosity of yours out before the exam.''
''Wh-''
''-Because from what you've described, unlike you, it's position will not be so interchangeable, and you are really trying my patience today," the beast snarls at him.
Now, Vlad's offended. But he bites his tongue because he just wants to get this over with. He stomps over to the counter and sheds his coat first. Then the sweater and his shirt. And because he has absolutely no desire to be exposed to the cold air longer than necessary, he snatches the tunic up, intent on putting it on before he looses his trousers and... Wait...
''What kind of exam, exactly?''
Frostbite considers him for minute. He studies the features on his face and the hue of his skin. The anxiety and distrust that's plain as day all over his frame, shuddering in the gale of the absurdity of his predicament, and struggling for the limelight with his full body blush. ...at least he's warmed up a little.
"Gynecological. What else?"
Vlad's mouth goes dry. As the Mojave. His heart ceases all activity and his brain trips over itself. At the same time, fire and blood prickle at his loins from the inside out.
"...w... ...uh... ...yo-... ...what?"
Instead of repeating himself, the beast grasps both of his shoulders and spins him around to face the middle of the room.
A table stands ready. The table. The table he never once considered needing to get on. When his eyes fall on the leg braces, his brain fritzes at the sight.
''You can either let me help you, or you can tuck tail, run, and trust to luck, which I strongly advise against. Your luck has been terrible as of late. The exam is invasive, however beneficial. But, it is ultimately your decision. I won't force it on you.''
Vlad gulps. He knows his luck is terrible. He's just been given one more chance to back out. But he knows better. He can hear Danny in his head, and the words that come forth sound about right for the situation.
''You could've at least bought me dinner, first.''
There's a light chuckle behind him. He may be removed from the living realm, but it's a colloquialism the beast understands.
"You're still willing, then?"
Vlad gives a shaky nod.
"Use your words."
"...yes."
A drawer opens and a faint, dull thud hits the countertop. The halfa glances back and sees a white bottle. He's not an idiot. He knows what it is. A new wave of blood rushes through to his skin.
''You won't need that,'' he says quietly, thoroughly embarrassed.
Frostbite doesn't even blink. ''I've heard that before. I'll be the judge.''
Vlad pulls the tunic on and sheds the rest of his clothing without anymore argument. Remembering his earlier instructions, he phases a hand into his chest and grasps at the chain he knows is there. And pulls. This time, Plasmius doesn't land gracelessly in a heap on the ground. It's prepared for the incantation and lands rather nicely.
Crouched low on all fours like a stone carving on the roof of a medieval church. Just as nature intended. Teal wings unfurl as it rises to its feet.
Vlad backs away to let them interact.
Frostbite eyes the pink chain that scrapes against the icy floor. He follows its path towards the looming demon, clearly making mental notes. Studying. When he finally looks at the monster, it leans forward and sniffs at the air surrounding the yeti. It huffs in disapproval. Frostbite isn't bothered.
Instead, he grabs a warm shoulder and spins the creature around to look at its wings.
Plasmius inwardly gawks at the action, the touch cold and unexpected. It's used to instilling varying degrees of terror in its host. To be handled so easily, turned on its heal and have a wing pulled outward for examination... What should be offense is actually astonishment.
Frigid touches prod gently at the surface of the limb, feeling the flesh draped over heated bone. Frostbite fusses at the single claw, feels the single talon that curls inward. He follows the outlines of bones beneath the teal expanse.
"Forgive me, I don't get to examine winged creatures very often."
His own claw nicks the warm skin by mistake, and Plasmius yelps. It sharply pulls away and turns, shifting its wings behind it.
"I am not a tes-AGH!"
"-And full fangs, as well!" Frostbite grips its jaw in one hand and uses the other to press a digit against a canine, "But no venom, I suspect. Most likely the fault of your human side. Which is probably for the pup's own good."
Vlad blinks, "Venom?"
"Yes. It's a little known quirk among gargoyles. And not one they use often," Frostbite tilts Plasmius' head to the side and pries at its lower jaw, "It's typically reserved for mating. Your kind bonds for eternity, you know. It's a powerful serum, it puts the incubi to shame."
Plasmius wrenches free from the snowbeast's grasp and licks at its fangs out of reflex. It glares at him in the process.
"Well. That certainly explains a lot," he turns towards the human half, "Alright then," he motions, "up you go."
Vlad gives an indignant groan, but does as he's told. Sitting on the edge of the table, Frostbite hands him a sheet, which he lays over his lap.
There's a malicious little snicker by the cabinets that prompts him to curl his lip back in a snarl.
The gargoyle rumbles quietly in response.
And the human half growls. If it weren't for the fact that their pain receptors are connected, he'd strangle the monster.
"Sit on the edge and lean back."
Vlad situates himself so that he feels like he's going to fall of the table, just as he knows he needs to be. It's his first time being put through such an assessment, but he's educated. He's soaked up as much knowledge as he could over the years, across any and all subjects since he had so little to do with himself. He understands the basics. And he thinks no less of any woman for the discomfort. The tunic is comfortable, but he's aware of the exposure. He's aware of himself and where everything in the room is. He knows where Frostbite is, as he pulls on a pair of gloves, and he's monitoring the nine foot sky-rat that leans a little too comfortably against the counter.
It's almost sensory overload as he flicks his eyes around to place every object. Every shape. Every color. Every scratch in the ice and every crease in the sheet on his lap and he wonders how women do it.
And then it occurs to him that his spell hasn't been activated yet. His hand starts downward, only for the yeti to come over and grab his wrist to stop him.
"Not yet. Lean back," Frostbite repeats.
Vlad is confused, but the command is followed without protest.
"Good. Arms up. Here."
Vlad blinks and turns his head to look where the yeti points. There's a plate with a loop of black fabric running through it. Which he didn't notice before.
"It's much easier if the patient is tied down first, before the spell is activated. Perfectly sound bodies are usually whipped into heat madness when it's been a while. To attempt any examination on one in such a condition while unrestrained will result in severe injury of both parties. And I sense it's been years since you've triggered yours."
Vlad audibly swallows, and hears a knowing grunt.
Now, he's torn. Between doing as he's told, running for the hills, punching Frostbite's teeth out, or just curling up in a corner to laugh until he cries. Because of course he'd find the one entity that's capable of studying him, eager to learn, happy to supply answers, and has absolutely no filter when it comes to a subject most human societies only discuss behind closed doors, and who else in the world besides him has to face this sort of ludicrousness?!
Ultimately, he caves to the order.
The straps are solid, but far from abrasive. Which he hates. Fewer distractions. He then allows his legs to be restrained, the padding offering plenty of physical comfort, but nothing for his mind. The glowing shackle on his ankle digs into his leg a little. He supposes that's something.
However uncomfortable the position is, he knows the chieftain means no harm. He knows he won't be wounded once in such a position. Not intentionally, anyway. Furthermore, he's barely more than a newborn among ghosts. He doesn't know much beyond what he's figured out for himself in terms of self-care, and there's no one in the living realm to help him. And the only one on the other side of the veil that will, out of the goodness of his frozen heart, i-
-A large hand gently rests against his stomach, forcing the man out of his own head to look up at the snowbeast.
"I will tell you this now, while your mind is still in a state of clarity. Once this is done, you'll need to leave the spell active for at least eight weeks."
"Okay... Why?"
The yeti shifts his jaw a little, carefully considering his words, "To be as inactive with this sort of magic as you have been, for as long as you have been, you're bound to be in need of... retraining."
Plasmius chuckles from its place by the counter.
Vlad glances at it and looks back to the yeti in confusion, "What do you mean, retraining?"
"Well, if you would prefer it in laymen's terms, you're most likely tighter than a nun's chuff."
Plasmius erupts in laughter, unable to contain itself. The anxiety and dread spawned from the whole situation goes up in smoke, leaving Vlad with a horrid concoction of hormones, affrontment, embarrassment, and horror.
"And you think you're gonna fix that with your hands?! You're out of your mind!"
"Would you rather I use something else?"
Vlad's mouth gapes, "Wh-NO!"
"Then stop whining. It could always be worse."
"Worse?! I came out here for a few simple answers and now I'm tied down to a fucking table and you're about shove your hand up my vag, which according to the laws of nature, I'm not even supposed to have! How could this possibly be any worse?!"
"It could be me doing it," Plasmius answers.
"...okay, fine. It could be worse." 'Goddamn it, Jack!'
His head thunks against the table as he does his best to refrain from outright screaming. It was supposed to be a short trip. Fly out here, ask a few questions, fly back in time for dinner. Nothing more! But his luck, being what it is, as the yeti so kindly pointed out, set his plan on fire and is actively dancing on its ashes.
The fabric of the tunic shifts out from underneath the sheet to expose his naval, "Once the spell is active, I'll start by-"
"-Don't tell me, just do it!" Vlad snaps, "I don't need an explanation, I don't need narration, I don't need a conversation, don't ask me about my hobbies, don't ask me how often I get off, don't even make jokes to lighten the mood! Just do what you have to do and get it over with!"
Frostbite's teeth grind in his mouth and he wakes the spell, "Hopefully, you'll be more pleasant as a wanton slut in heat madness."
Vlad feels his claw move across his skin before he can deliver a retort, and a warm fog soaks into his brain. He can feel everything in it turn cloudy. Muddy. His eyes roll back and his body seizes in the restraints, but he still manages to cling to a few neurons, and stiffens when the first touch comes.
The bottle isn't needed. Because years doesn't quite cover it. Yes, it's been years. When the spell first manifested, he practically ran wild with exploration. Anything he could do on his own, he did. Hours were lost. Once, he lost a few days. But the appeal wore off a few months later. Sure, it was enjoyable, and it granted him the types of play his original body couldn't. But there was also an understanding of what it was all for. How it was ultimately meant to be used. It took some time to process it, but when that realization slapped him across the face, the fire of play was snuffed out. Because he wouldn't be able to use it. He's met a few specters of interest in his time, but none were worth putting himself through the 9 months of ensuing grunt work. No one drew his attention that way.
Now, he has the potential to put it to use. He's been informed that if things play out correctly, it will be used. He will be used. Which is not unwelcome as an idea, the more he thinks it over. Would it really be so bad?
Suddenly, there's pressure. He groans, then clamps his jaw shut.
"Не давите так сильно!"
Frostbite's ears flick to the words and it makes him pause for a minute. "What?"
"I said, don't press so hard!"
The yeti grumbles at the wherewithall still present and presses more, anyway, twisting his hand around in the process. Vlad nearly chokes in the effort to hold his voice. His nerves sing at the touch. At every curl of the beast's fingers. His arms and legs uselessly tug at the restraints as he tries to breath as evenly as possible. Everything in his pelvis flutters and spasms. Though the touch is cold, it's well met against his heated insides, offering a strange and pleasurable contrast that prods at his nerves. He's torn between loving it and hating it. Loving how good it feels, hating that he's enjoying it in this scenario.
Plasmius approaches quietly, as quietly as it can, for the chain still scrapes across the floor. It comes around behind the table and leans against the top, peering down at its other half. And though there isn't much to see from this side, he's not interested in the inner workings just yet. Instead, it pays mind to the thrashing. The heaving breaths. The color staining Vlad's skin. The way his spine arches. Not a bad sight, it decides. In fact, Plasmius finds it easy to transfer the view to someone else in its mind. It's a view the demon would very much prefer on the younger halfa, rather than its mewling counterpart. It fidgets with a few silver strands, just a few, of the tresses draped over the edge of the table.
Between glimpses of his brain, Vlad notices. He feels the quarter-hearted tugs on his scalp and faintly sees the demon's outline in his vision. His jaw opens to yell at it, to order it away, but the words are stolen by a finger pressing at his cervix, and panic fills him. He snaps his head up.
"DON'T!"
Frostbite stops and looks up at him in surprise. His face is colored with the heat of his state, but his eyes are crystal clear.
"I'm not going to breach it. Relax. I'm just checking to make sure everything is healthy and has enough give."
Vlad swallows and breathes. Frostbite waits until he's settled down.
"Does the boy know?"
"No, I..." the fog moves back in as the exam continues, "I left it o-... lef-...Ah!"
"We wanted to surprise him. In the moment, preferably," Plasmius answers with a smirk.
"Well, while I can understand that, and it would certainly be an enjoyable surprise, I find that lying by omission is not the best way to officiate a relationship, no matter how good it feels."
He never should've agreed to this! He's losing his mind as the hand inside twists and turns, grinding knuckles up against his g-spot. If only he would press a little harder. Repeatedly, if possible. It's a lot. It's only two of the snowbeast's fingers. But he feels like he's maxed out for space. So full. So sweetly. So right. So nicely, and yet, not enough. He hears Plasmius snicker and his face slowly contorts from pleasure to frustration.
"I think he'll be fine," the gargoyle replies, watching its human half whimper and whine.
A particularly delicious twist of the wrist earns a wanton cry, casting diamonds and sparks in Vlad's eyes. But it doesn't yield the result he's desperately craving. The yeti pulls his fingers free with only some resistance, then removes his gloves and throws them away.
''That should be enough. The rest I need can be ascertained from a few scans. I'll be right back."
Plasmius waits until he leaves before looking back down at his other half.
''You've gotta be fucking kidding me,'' Vlad groans. Laying there, shuddering, feeling only slightly humiliated, but more so unsatisfied, he jerks his wrists in a feeble attempt to break free.
''All of that...'' '...for nothing!'
Hellfire warmth trickles in past the cold air and something brushes against his thigh. The table creaks through his shaking breaths, alerting him that something is off. He whines and picks his head up...and comes face-to-face with Plasmius. Hovering over him, bracing its hands on either side of Vlad's hips. And every alarm bell screams within, competing to drown out his need.
''This is a great look for you,'' it grins.
''What are you doing?'' he asks nervously.
A dry snicker dampens with malevolence and Plasmius raises a hand. Holding it up in view, it wiggles its fingers...and bright pink sparks snap inbetween movements.
''...you wouldn't.''
''I would," it pulls the black loop of fabric around its middle finger free and rolls its sleeve up.
''I just got fisted by a glorified fucking yeti and I didn't even get anything out of it! Don't you think I've been through enough, today?!'' Vlad snarls, but the blush running from his horns to his toes still won't fade away.
''Not yet, you haven't. And, please. Two fingers hardly counts as fisting.''
''His hands are huge!'' He should protest more, but he's gotten nowhere, still needs to get there, and his hands are literally tied. The idea is a little uncomfortable, especially as it's coming from his ghost half, but it's not without merit.
''He's a yeti. What did you expect? Besides, I could use the practice,'' it proceeds to nudge the sheet up.
''Practice for what?!''
The sheet is pushed until it's bunched up at his waist.
"For our little невеста, of course! I'd hate to leave him dissatisfied. Wouldn't you?"
"..."
"Or I could just...leave you like this."
"...I am going to kill you."
Plasmius smiles, toothy and cheshire, "One can only hope. Now...будь хорошей кобылой и откройся."
"I am not a ma-"
-Plasmius slams its other hand down, inches from his head, and leans in for a better angle. Leering at his counterpart, red sclera burning bright, "You babble and snivel and whine and do anything you can to distract yourself from this mess you've become. You've dragged this out far longer than you needed to, danced around it like every other problem in your life, and you could've stopped it at any time," two fingers slip in with no resistance and the human's lungs hitch, "But the fact is that you're soaked. You're soaked, you're desperate, you look ready to climb into the first lap offered to you and you must think it so unbecoming to be like this. Yet, you haven't refused my assistance. So, let's hear it, hm? Use your words."
"...help me."
"Was that so hard?" it asks.
"Yes," the human grits, and then jerks when he feels the demon's fingers move.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Besides, if I hurt you, I'll suffer for it, as well."
"That doesn't make me feel any better about this!" In any other instance, under any other circumstance, it might have been decent consolation. But at this moment, it just feels more like a hollow promise.
"Now, if I recall correctly," it feels around, curling its fingers at different depths, "it should be..."
Vlad's spine jolts off the table in surprise.
"There it is," red focuses on cloudy blue, "Let's see how much it takes."
Vlad opens his mouth to dissent, but the world goes white.
The restraints don't let him get away. Though they allow his body to contort some, they hold him in place to just lay there and take. His spine curves and stiffens, his mouth locked open in a silent scream. His head slams against the back of the table, horns and potential headache be damned. The cold of the environment is forgotten, lost to the sharp fire engulfing his loins. His walls flutter. A wet heat rapidly flows forth, easily conducting the charge and spreading it from his folds to his cervix. Everything convulses and jerks until it all snaps. Hot slick gushes and drenches the fingers inside of him, and then it all stops. Vlad collapses, gasping for air.
Plasmius straightens enough to brush its free hand against his forehead.
Vlad struggles to look at it. The strength to simply turn his head barely exists. It takes a moment to lift the weight of his skull up. When he does, he finds himself face-to-face with the demon. And the demon smiles.
"Better?"
"...again."
Everything turns white again, and then, eventually, it goes dark.
-
It's all a blur. It was during his eighth orgasm that he'd passed out. When he woke again, Plasmius was gone. Cast back into his mindscape, nesting amongst a hoard of books torn down from their shelves and humming to itself.
He doesn't know how he makes it home. Haphazardly, Vlad managed to get dressed. His coat isn't even zipped up and his clothing is rumpled as he stumbles through the portal like a newborn foal. Gravity drops him to the floor in a heap. Plasmius grunts unhappily at the pain, but says nothing.
Laying there on the cold stone, Vlad lets his muscles relax. Lets the aching work its way out. He lays there for an hour before attempting to stand up again. It still takes quite a bit of effort. He pulls himself up by grabbing onto the leg of a table. Everything under his skin twitches awkwardly as he rights himself. Just when he's leaning against the table, and being so grateful for having the foresight to bolt it to the floor, he feels a rush of warmth soak in to his trousers.
"Fuck."
He didn't realize he was still so wet.
"That's the last time I ask him for advice."
It takes him another hour to make it to his bedroom, where he drags himself into bed and crashes. For several days. When he finally dislodges from his blankets, frustrated with the situation and further spent, it's only because he has to. He needs to eat. Running mad with hormones doesn't change the fact that he's starving. The recuperation soothed his limbs. Everything has stopped hurting. Which means he can now focus on a new problem.
Having the spell active means his pelvis has shifted to accomodate it. Which means none of his jeans fit properly. Neither do his slacks, nor any of his night clothes. He fidgets with every garment he tries and fails to find comfort each time. He gets so annoyed that everything he tries gets dumped on the floor, leaving his room a mess.
"What about a skirt?" Plasmius supplies.
"I'm not talking to you," Vlad snarls back.
And then he realized that he doesn't have any sanity left to lose.
"Not like I'm going out in public, anyway."
He doesn't actually own such an article of clothing. So he makes one. There's plenty of sewing patterns available online. He cuts down a set of curtains he'd originally shoved under the bed to make it, finally getting his money's worth out of them. And he only pricks himself with a needle twice. When it's done, as ridiculous as he feels for wearing it, he had to admit that it doesn't physically bother him nearly as much as everything else he's tried to put on.
"I hate it, but it'll do."
"See? I don't just cause trouble. I have good ideas."
"I'm not talking to you."
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Kindred Spirits Complete