seed (explicit...ish) (vkwulf)

23 June 2024

Becoming the claws at the end of a powerful arm felt like finally finding home. It was easy. It came together so smoothly.

"I wonder, Biowulf," van Kleiss said, not looking at him; he kept eye contact sparse, a rare treasure, so that on the occasions that he did meet Biowulf's gaze it was a shiver of pleasure and fear - "Just how obedient are you?"

Here they were in the castle together, alone, still new. He could not imagine being anything but obedient. (It had not occurred to him, yet, that the alternative might ever be necessary.) He hesitated without direction, murmuring promises, until van Kleiss drew a massive gnarled tree trunk from the floor of the castle and bent Biowulf over it, chest pressed against the living wood. A haze settled somewhere low in Biowulf's skull. He felt the buzzing warmth when van Kleiss stood close behind him, the scrape of metal over metal when van Kleiss flattened his hand against Biowulf's back. There was the dizziness of purpose.

van Kleiss' soft human fingers tapped almost thoughtfully between Biowulf's legs. Biowulf did what he could not to shiver; weakness in front of van Kleiss went unrewarded. He kept his breaths shallow, straining to hear over the sound of blood pounding in his head.

"You don't have anything here at all, do you," van Kleiss mused, somewhere along the way to laughing. His fingers curled so that the knuckle ground against the flat plane of Biowulf's crotch; Biowulf could feel the pressure, the organic warmth, the strange pull of his nanites toward van Kleiss' body. Fingertips tugged at the seams of his hips where blockier metal turned soft, prying into the miniscule gaps, making Biowulf's breath hitch. "It's as though you were built for servitude alone."

Yes, he wanted to say, that's what happened exactly. I was made to be an extension of you, for whatever use you have of me -

"It is a shame, then, that you can't even properly serve me," van Kleiss sighed, and his touch withdrew, so quickly that Biowulf felt cold. The warm fog that had come into his consciousness vanished in a sudden sterile shock. Biowulf's claws dug into the tree trunk underneath him, deep into the soft new wood.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoarse, maybe desperate. "van Kleiss, I'm sorry."

"I know that you are." The tree jolted beneath him and then snaked away into the stone, dismissed by van Kleiss. Biowulf stiffly caught himself and stood again, trying to find the cut ends of his marionette strings. van Kleiss was looking at him. "You can apologize by changing how you address me. I think it's only right that you consider me your master."

It was, of course. It was a blessing to be given the chance to call him as much. Biowulf still felt van Kleiss' phantom touch curling over his body, human-hot and metal-cold.

The day after that, van Kleiss disappeared (alone, which left Biowulf unsettled and pacing in the empty castle) and came back with more inhuman creatures, the same as Biowulf, different, and he was cruel and sweet to them in turns and Biowulf wanted little more than to pull them apart like soft toys and prove to his master that Biowulf could serve him best. It would just be him, then, and his master, and his master's touch.

(The first time that van Kleiss brings one back that has hands and a mouth and a clever mind, Biowulf indulged in the urge. He dragged their body out to the garden behind the castle and knew that van Kleiss would know. His master did not acknowledge the loss. He would try again.)