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After living for decades, centuries, or even millennia, holidays became increasingly insignificant and fleeting for every inhabitant of the Tower with each passing day. The more settings and rises of the false sun they witnessed, the less they cared about a specific date that had occurred millions of such sunsets and sunrises ago.
The same applied to birthdays. Most people didn't even remember when they were born, and even more of them didn't even bother to think about it.
What significance did some particular day hold when you were faced with the challenge of climbing the Tower and pursuing your dream which could not be fulfilled by a mere wish that was immediately forgotten the moment it was made?
Though that didn't mean there weren't people who sought to remember their own worth and purpose. The small pawns, mindlessly marching forward and unable to determine why they were actually doing this, had no need to remember who they were or how great their influence had been since the day they were born.
But White was fully aware of just how important the coming day was, marking the birth of one of the Gods of FUG and the future Head of the Arie Family, not only for himself but for the entire Tower.
Even after the unbearably long nights spent within the suffocating walls of the Hell Train he still remembered exactly how many years it was since his birth. And this year, it wasn't just some ordinary number that annoyed White with its imperfection, but a round date. An anniversary, if you will. This made his approaching birthday all the more interesting.
After all, FUG was famous not only for creating cold, emotionless tools striving to take their places at the top, but also for the astonishingly growing cult surrounding them. Slayers were elevated to the level of the Gods they so desperately yearned to reach and to prove who was truly worthy of the pedestal, people bowed at the Slayers' feet and sacrificed their blood to draw their attention.
Of course, White expected that such a momentous event as the birthday of one of those who had taken the Throne would stir up a storm within the ranks of the fanatical organization.
It seems that the other Slayers were not particularly interested in receiving gifts in their honor or the reverent gleam in the eyes of those beneath them. Some were too old and arrogant for celebrations, so they preferred to spend another year in hibernation; others were too unsociable and secretive to divulge unnecessary information about themselves.
But White had no intention of turning down all the offerings and attention this day was about to bring him. Thanks to his dear, reserved colleagues, his celebration became even more special, unique even. Let all the fanatics' love be directed at him alone, he would be ready to bask in the rays of glory and adoration that those pathetic little people had saved especially for him.
"I wonder how many lost souls I'll be able to get this year," White muttered involuntarily under his breath. He leaned back in the chair with a satisfied sigh, thoughtfully twirling a strand of hair around his finger. "Maybe hundreds? Hmm, no, probably thousands. FUG has never skimped on its most valuable units, and for a Slayer like me, they should provide a feast befitting my title."
The sudden sound of an incoming call from his pocket interrupted White's daydreaming, causing him to frown in frustration and irritation. Who dared to disturb His Majesty at a moment like this? He was in the midst of envisioning how millions of souls would surround him to become one with him and nourish him with their power. What could possibly be more important than that?
Reluctantly, he switched his pocket to display mode and cast a scathing glance at the screen, but it quickly lost its menacing glint and was replaced by mild curiosity and wariness.
The person calling him at this hour was none other than the Head of FUG himself. White unconsciously sat up straight in his chair, even though Grace Mirchea Luslec wouldn't be able to see him. Nevertheless, it wasn't every day that such bigwigs would call him.
After a moment of hesitation and a pause to create the appearance of tireless work rather than the idle daydreams he'd been indulging in for the past few hours, White finally answered the call. The idea that he'd made the First Slayer himself wait for his response made him smile to himself.
There was something satisfying about knowing that even Lord Grace had to earn White's acknowledgment before speaking to him. Even if he'd never say that to Luslec's face.
"I'm listening," he said, examining and blowing on his fingernails.
Deep down, White prayed that Luslec was calling him because of the upcoming celebration that was sure to turn the entire FUG upside down, and not because its Head had gotten drunk to the point of unconsciousness and had started dialing everyone he could reach again.
White cringed inwardly as he recalled the last time this had happened, when he'd had to listen to Luslec's drunken tales of past years for over two hours.
The old man didn't even care who he was talking to, he could babble endlessly about his old friends who by a pretty funny twist of fate were now their sworn enemies, and about his Master, whoever it might be.
Not exactly what you would expect from the respected leader of a rebel organization, but the booze which he drank far too often for this to end well (at least for White's peace of mind), was truly murderous. Hardly anyone but Luslec himself would dare to try it without ending up face down on the floor, so his resilience was certainly something to envy.
"Hello, my dear Slayer," a soft voice came from the other end of the line, with no trace of a drunken pause that usually led into a long stream of philosophy and even more complaints about how much he missed one of his camp buddies. White let out a sigh of relief. "I think you know why I'm calling you."
"I do, Lord Grace." White grinned at the smile he could hear in Luslec's voice and only fidgeted more, fixing his hair and anticipating the sweet words coming his way.
"Of course you do. After all, an important moment is approaching, and I wanted to discuss it with you. As you know, your birthday is significant for our entire organization. The worship of the Slayers really lifts the spirits of not just our followers, but our army as well. Mainly thanks to the free alcohol, but that's beside the point. Since you've been with us for so long, and you're turning remarkable 993 years old, this deserves an even more elaborate celebration than before."
"Actually, I'm–"
"Which, of course, requires even more alcohol, but it can't be helped, I have to go to such measures to satisfy people," Luslec went on without stopping, not giving White a chance to correct him when he got his age wrong. White stared skeptically at his pocket, as if that would help him convey his discontent directly to the Head of FUG.
He seriously doubted that anyone had actually asked Luslec to increase the supply of bottles containing the most hellish potion in this Tower. It was more likely that someone just made up an excuse for not having to drink it alone. Well, he didn't really care either way.
"Is that what you call 'elaborate'?" White asked, his voice remaining impassive as thoughts of delicious souls tempting him with their power returned.
"Ah, not just that. The arrival of a new Slayer Candidate has changed a lot of things in FUG, and that opens up great opportunities for us. And since we have nothing else to celebrate besides your birthday, I decided to throw the most spectacular FUG gathering in recent years of stagnation. Naturally, that also means something special awaits you as a token of our appreciation."
"Something special?" White asked, his interest in the conversation returning in an instant.
"Yes, something prepared for you by the other Slayers and Jue Viole Grace's friend. Ah, youth," Luslec sighed dreamily, and White tensed, unmistakably recognizing the nostalgic note in his voice. "I remember how we celebrated your father's birthday just like this. Well, he wasn't as young as you, but he was just as stern and aloof."
"Please, let's not talk about my father." White scowled, his fists clenched. For some reason, Luslec liked to talk about the Head of the Arie Family specifically with White. As if he didn't know that White would rather swallow rocks than listen to another word about his father.
"Hm, okay." Luslec's voice sounded slightly disappointed until the sound of a bottle clinking in the background was heard, which made White's eye twitch. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to say for now. Be ready for the party. In the meantime, you can think about what they're preparing for you. See you later."
The quiet splashing sound and Luslec's laughter faded as he hung up, leaving White alone with his thoughts. What the Head of FUG said indeed instantly sparked considerable interest in him, and it slowly grew, almost overshadowing his fantasies of billions of people beneath his feet.
Special gifts not just from FUG, but from the Slayer Candidate and the people he'd grown close to at some point along his journey, huh? Oh, White could come up with so many things about what that might be, especially when Luslec let the intrigue linger, heating up his thoughts…
Hardly anyone who knew even a little about the celebrations arranged for you by a mass organization that worshiped you would argue with White that the feast was one of the most important parts of a birthday. Especially his birthday.
Strange as it may seem, FUG was conservative enough to preserve even the dust-covered traditions that had taken root in the Tower's culture since the dawn of time, and surely not original enough to come up with a better greeting for White.
Not that it was really a problem because White certainly didn't complain when right after formally trying a cake or some other tasteless junk he would proceed to the long-awaited souls. And yet, simple human food could never satisfy his hunger. All of this was always nothing more than a performance before the real feast awaited him. However…
"No, no, my dear Slayer, the cake is not ready yet."
White turned to the smiling Luslec, noticing a sly spark in his eyes. The celebration began noisily, FUG Rankers and officials flitted here and there, stopping at tables that were piled high with food. White barely glanced at the dishes as he walked past them, not even stopping to take a look at the appetizers and the alcohol that had magically appeared on every table, but only feeling his thirst grow.
What was keeping the servants so long? Several hours have already passed since the start of the feast, yet the main course still hasn't been served. Not that White was particularly curious about what they were preparing for him this year. He was far more concerned about the souls they were keeping hidden from him so as not to spoil the 'surprise'.
A surprise that was repeated every century, always following the exact same script. Yeah, FUG wasn't all that creative, but White was actually grateful to them for it. At least they knew how to keep him satisfied.
Which made him wonder all the more why they decided to provoke his hunger and growing displeasure today. As if preparing human food were so difficult. White was certain he could have done it all in half the time with his eyes closed, holding a sword in one hand and doing the rest with the other, just if it were even slightly in his interest.
"In that case, someone needs to tell the servants to hurry up," White hissed, unable to hide his irritation even in the Head's presence. "Can't wait to finally try this culinary masterpiece."
"Maybe you should do it yourself?" Luslec only chuckled at his caustic tone, not the least bit embarrassed by his tactlessness. "I think the kitchen is over there. Go check why the meal prepared especially for you is still not before you."
White stared at the Head of FUG in disbelief, but the man just laughed, nudging him in the direction of the kitchen. For a split second, White wanted to argue because why the hell did he have to deal with some idiots on his own birthday when everyone was supposed to be fawning over him, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
First, White wasn't yet confident enough in his abilities to risk falling so abruptly out of favor with the First Slayer, and second, if he planned to stay here, he'd have to watch in real time as Luslec drained one bottle after another and eventually started spouting nonsense about how much White has grown and how much he resembled his father again. Definitely not the sight he wanted to see.
So he took the easy way out and went where Luslec had directed him, hoping to at least gain some benefit from someone else's mistake. White actually wouldn't have minded devouring the soul of the man by whose fault he was still starving.
Walking further until there wasn't a single person left around him, White stopped at a massive door. This must be the place. He listened closely, but not a single sound of the hustle was supposed to be going on behind this door right now reached him. He snorted, opening it with one strong push. If no one was in a hurry to satisfy His Majesty, he was about to take matters into his own hands and reap a harvest of other people's lives.
Despite his expectations and the thrill he felt at the coming of the murder, White saw no servants bustling about. The kitchen was empty, and it gave the impression that no one was supposed to be there. White raised an eyebrow and walked a little further until the bright light changed to the warm glow of a single lamp.
His gaze instantly fell on the long table in the middle of the room, and White's eyes widened in amazement and the delight that filled his entire body. Cautiously, he moved closer, unable to take his eyes off the sight before him.
Slayer Candidate's graceful body lay on the table, his arms thrown back over his head in a provocative pose, as if deliberately tempting White to come closer and devour him whole. Viole's smooth skin was exposed, and only a thin layer of whipped cream hid it from the Slayer's hungry gaze, offering very little protection against White's hunger, now increased threefold.
As if to tease White even more, Jue Viole Grace's beautiful body was adorned with bright red strawberries scattered across his chest and stomach, beckoning him to lean down and lick them off before moving on to the main course. Viole looked absolutely stunning, his eyes peacefully closed as he waited for White to finally find him here, naked and insanely seductive, and White in an instant forgot about the souls he'd been waiting for all the evening.
"My, what do we have here?" White cooed, his voice lowering with satisfaction as he continued to examine Viole's slender hips, which were covered with more whipped cream than anywhere else. Not for long, anyway. "Is this the special dessert I'm getting this year?"
Viole moved beneath him and opened his eyes slightly, casting a languid glance at White from under his dark lashes. The pale gold that usually made heat rise in his chest sent shivers down White's spine, and he felt his mouth watering.
He stepped forward, his hips bumping against the edge of the table, his hands extending out to either side of Viole. Candidate didn't even blink, looking at him furtively with some unspoken emotion. In the dim light, his eyes seemed even brighter and more intense, and it was becoming harder and harder to restrain himself as the other man continued to stare at him like that.
"You kept me waiting," Viole said, and though he seemed confident enough even as White almost covered him with his body, his voice faltered slightly. "I thought your desire was strong enough to bring you here more quickly."
White smirked and raised his hand to trace a long line down Viole's leg with his fingertip, gathering as much cream as he could. Without taking his eyes off Viole who was stunned by his actions he slowly licked the cream off his finger, deliberately stretching out the motion to catch Candidate's gaze fixed on his tongue.
The taste dissolved in his mouth as if it was never there, but White didn't even notice, more focused on Jue Viole Grace's flushed cheeks and the strip of bare skin left on his thigh.
"You should have left me a hint, since you were so eager to see me," he muttered, running his tongue over his lips to lick away the remaining cream. He could clearly see that the Candidate's eyes were still on them. "Maybe a path of rose petals? And I wouldn't mind seeing them adorn your body, too. More red would look so beautiful on you."
White's quiet voice was the only sound in the room besides Viole's quickening breath. He exhaled through parted lips and finally looked up to meet White's piercing gaze. Warmth spread through his stomach as White's usually pale, ghostly eyes darkened. Viole swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry from White's teasing.
"The petals on me would have gotten in your way," Viole muttered, his cheeks burning from his own words and White's curious gaze upon him. "I wanted to make sure you'd be able to eat all of your cake."
The end of his sentence was spoken in a less firm tone, Viole's voice softened as he shifted to gently rest his hand on his stomach. White's eyes widened in admiration as he watched Viole run his fingers over his own skin, demonstratively smearing the already small amount of cream.
Feeling enchanted by his unhurried movements alone, White took his wrist and pulled Viole's hand away from his body to press his lips against his fingers.
His tongue carefully licked the whipped cream away as Viole trembled slightly, and White's gaze never left his dull eyes, which reflected a striking impatience. White smiled at Viole's need, and his laughter warmed his fingertips, causing Candidate to gasp.
Surprisingly, the cream licked from Viole's hand did not taste the same to White as it was just a second ago when he tried it himself. Any food became bland to him the more souls he consumed. However, now White thought he could sense a sweetness for a moment, which quickly vanished when he pulled away from Viole.
How interesting… If he could feel something like that just by lightly touching Candidate, how sweet would this cream seem to him if he tasted it straight from his main dish?
"I must say, I didn't expect such a surprise from you, Jue Viole Grace. I can't downplay your efforts,” White murmured, moving closer to Viole's face. Only a couple of centimeters separated their lips as White gazed dreamily into his eyes, continuing to speak only to make Viole shudder with tension throughout his body from the overly close contact. "You want me to devour you so badly that I have no right to refuse you."
The muffled breath, palpable on his skin, prompted White to lean lower and close his eyes in expectation of soft lips against his own. Viole shifted awkwardly beneath him, but White was too eager to finally sink into a deep kiss to notice it until his lips touched not soft warmth, but something smooth.
White opened his eyes in confusion and looked at Viole who reached out to press a strawberry against White's lips. They were so close to each other, and only a single berry separated them. Viole's fingers held it firmly, preventing White from leaning in further.
"Don't you know you're supposed to eat the main course before moving on to dessert?" He asked, his voice sounded impassive, and yet White detected a hint of teasing in it, which made him smile, even though Viole didn't let him kiss him. "I still have too much cream on me."
A wave of excitement washed over White, and he slowly bit into the strawberry, eating it right from Viole's hands, his lips reddened by the berry's juice seemingly accidentally brushing against his fingers along the way. Little Slayer Candidate wanted him to play along, and this time White could obey his rules, just to get his treat. Since it promised to be much tastier than any delicacy he'd ever tasted before.
"So if I lick it all up, will you let me kiss you?" He asked with satisfaction, his eyes flashing mischievously as he kept his gaze fixed on Viole's blushing face.
Jue Viole Grace hesitated, but eventually nodded awkwardly, causing White's smile to widen and his eyes to narrow.
His hands moved and rested on Viole's waist, and White lowered himself to the same level as the Candidate's stomach. Through the thin layer of whipped cream, he could still see his abs and the way his chest rose with heavy breaths. White licked his lips and slowly ran his tongue over Viole's body, gathering the whipped cream along the way.
Jue Viole Grace gasped from the overwhelming sensation of a hot tongue moving across his skin with deliberately cruel slowness, meant to arouse him even more. He pressed the kissed fingers to his mouth, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks at the sight of White between his legs who did not take his sharp, hungry gaze off him.
A quiet moan escaped his lips as White gently sucked on his skin leaving a vivid mark and moved on, seemingly oblivious to how Viole was writhing under his touch. Every time a strawberry appeared in White's path, he slowly licked it off Viole's body and then kissed the spot where it had been, as if offering a light, ticklish touch in return.
Wanting to prolong the pleasure, White ignored the cream on Viole's hips, instead moving upward along his body. The strawberry, whether accidentally or not lying on Viole's chest, was eaten by White with particular relish as he felt that with every berry he consumed or every strip of cream he licked, he sensed the sweetness more vividly, and as a result, he grew only more impatient.
Jue Viole Grace was truly the one who gave these things real flavor, and White could no longer tear himself away from him, wanting to taste more and more, to finally feel something other than the disappointment of insatiable hunger. He tried to keep himself under control for at least a little while longer, so that this divine blessing would linger quenching his thirst, but the more desperate sounds he heard from Viole, the harder it became.
White held Viole's waist tightly in his hands not letting him shift beneath him, and covered his no longer hidden by the strawberry nipple with his lips, slowly running his tongue over it while caressing his sides with his thumbs. Viole's back arched, and White's mouth broke away from him, licking the last remnants of cream from his chest.
"Looks like I'm almost done with my dinner, Jue Viole Grace. I've got just a little bit left before I finally move on to something tastier," he whispered, triumph reflected in his eyes, clearly sensing Viole's restless desire. "And you're already so desperate."
"Just… Do it already," Viole muttered with difficulty, his breath ragged and his cheeks burning fiercely.
White chuckled, savoring the sight before him, and replied after a brief pause.
"Only because you asked for it."
White's hands slid down Jue Viole Grace's waist and stopped at his hips, wrapping around them with eagerness. Viole moaned louder, pure honey in White's ears, and he finally ran his tongue along the long line down the Candidate's lower body, feeling his mouth fill with a pure bliss he had never tasted before.
Perhaps a birthday cake didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.
The sweet fantasy slowly dissolved like melted whipped cream, but even in reality White felt his mouth water. He swallowed, feeling a slight irritation that the distinct, cloying taste remained only in his yearning thoughts, right where the Slayer Candidate was and offered White his body as a treat.
Well, if such a spectacle truly awaited White, he could consider this birthday the best of all he'd ever spent at FUG.
White looked at the pocket in front of him, his smugness gradually subsided, replaced by serious contemplation. On the other hand, the cake was not the only thing waiting for him on his birthday, was it? FUG was generous to its Slayers, and if White really could expect something special this year, Jue Viole Grace wasn't going to be the only one.
Souls were his greatest joy and the only gift he received from the organization, aside from the useless trinkets presented to him by fanatics from all over the Tower. Who in their right mind would send a renowned Slayer, a son of the Great Family Arie, some petty little knife? That day, White swore to take revenge on whoever had so shamelessly insulted his honor, whoever they might be.
It seemed like 700 years had passed since then, but White still burned with a desire for retribution, involuntarily remembering that bastard on every birthday. And it was a perfectly justified reaction, no one would dare argue with White unless they wanted to lose their fingers.
Now, however, he felt a thrill of his own soul which actually desired a special gift for itself. It was… an unusual feeling. Not that White had ever skimped on his desires in the prime of his powers, but still, to feel such anticipation for something other than the expected might filling him from within was so new. Yet captivating.
For as long as he could remember, he had always been led into a vast chamber, packed to the brim with captured souls, so that he might continue his feast there.
But in his mind was a dark hallway leading to the private quarters of the guests remaining on the FUG ship, which were currently empty while the party continued to rage beyond the walls. All the high-ranking officials were gathered around the long tables, and White wandered among them as if in a senseless labyrinth until one of the Head's servants asked him to come along with them.
"Won't you finally answer me, servant, from whom exactly is this gift you mentioned?" White said, casting a displeased glance at the man accompanying him on the way to one of the countless rooms, as White realized. Which was quite difficult to do with a servant walking silently beside him and not daring to speak to one of the Slayers.
White didn't ask too many questions when one of Luslec's men told him that a gift was waiting for him, smugly following behind them and showing off as they passed by the FUG members raising their glasses in his honor. But the longer they walked, and the fewer people remained around them, the more irritated White became. When there was no one left nearby at all, and they kept walking, he couldn't take it anymore, finally breaking the prolonged silence.
"The decision to make this offering to you was made by FUG's top leadership."
White rolled his eyes at their response, no longer bothering to question them. If you'd heard anything about a decision of FUG's top leadership, it meant they weren't going to tell you anything. Why had the budget been reallocated, and why did the Slayers receive less money than last time? A decision of FUG's top leadership. Why did the Elders suddenly come to take away your title? A decision of FUG's top leadership. Why is the organization in complete chaos?
…Well, it was probably more due to Luslec's decision to go on a bender, but never mind.
"Then it better be something worthwhile," he huffed, just as the servant's steps stopped and they stood by one of the doors.
"He's waiting for you inside," servant said, bowing to White. "Have a pleasant time."
White raised an eyebrow, but didn't read too much into the servant's hasty departure, instead focusing on the door in front of him. Hm, looks like it wasn't just souls this time. Someone was waiting for him here with a surprise, yes? Whatever it was, White couldn't refuse such a kind gesture.
He opened the door and entered the room, noticing the unexpected semi-darkness. Only in the room ahead did a soft pink light shine, luring White like a lost firefly. He took a step, then another, growing more confident until the light fell on his face and his gaze settled on the wide bed right in front of him.
There was an absurd amount of pillows on it, intended more for decoration than practical use, since even to White it seemed too many. However, the most important sight was right in the middle of the bed, awkwardly watching as White's fingers twitched when he barely managed to suppress an excited sigh.
"So you're the person who was waiting for me?" He murmured, the tension in his body caused by the surprise slowly easing as his shoulders dropped and a warmth filled his stomach. "And, I suppose, my gift as well?"
There was no one in the room but the youngest Slayer sitting in front of him, his appearance left no doubt about either of White's guesses. His gaze slid over the man's face, unmistakably recognizing those serious, bright gold eyes, which were now filled with shame and anxiety, and something else buried deeper than out of fear to admit that feeling to himself. Desire.
White smirked quietly. No wonder he felt that way.
Kneeling before White, Karaka stubbornly tried not to break eye contact, but his cheeks were already flushed, a blush that even the pink light falling on his exposed face could not hide. His body was tightly wrapped in his own metallic tentacles, binding his thighs and arms like gift ribbons, between them White could see his pale skin, hidden neither by heavy armor nor long garments.
Tentacles reached down to his chest, and only his shoulders and neck were completely exposed, beckoning White to come closer and feel it beneath his fingers. His heart skipped a beat at the realization that there was absolutely nothing on Karaka's body except for these tendrils creating an image far too lewd for the young Slayer, accustomed to modestly covering every inch of his skin.
White did not sense Karaka's soul being in turmoil, but with his hands tied behind his back he seemed unusually defenseless. It was probably the first time anyone ever saw the new Slayer without a full set of armor and weapons at the ready, looking more like he was ready to give in, to let his unhidden from the single gaze upon him body be torn to pieces. Karaka shifted awkwardly under it, his thighs rubbing against each other, which immediately caught White's sharp gaze.
"That's right." Karaka replied in a quiet voice, and only from his tone did White realize that he was trying to make it sound as impassive as usual, but for a moment he couldn't suppress the embarrassment reflected in his words. "It's a gift prepared for you from all of FUG."
The momentary bewilderment passed, replaced by all-encompassing delight, causing White to grin and take the steps that had until now separated them toward Karaka. The new Slayer lifted his head as soon as White got closer and was almost hovering over him, his hair tied in a high ponytail swayed.
White chuckled, examining the red ribbon in his hair, it looked exactly like a fancy bow on top of a gift box. How seriously FUG treated this. The younger Slayer looked so neat and pretty with his hair done and perfect packaging. They must have wanted their offering to be received with due respect.
"Such generosity," White said, shifting his gaze back to the soft cheeks, lips and burning eyes that both wanted and feared his intense attention. "Your company is so precious to me, new Slayer, even your face alone would be enough of a gift."
Which was only half true. The cautious new Slayer so rarely allowed him to see anything beyond the unchanging mask behind which such a charming face was hidden that one of White's many desires was to have the chance to see it more often. If only Karaka would open up, granting him his trust, White could have stopped there, not wanting to scare away this precious ally.
But when so much of that naked body made to be devoured was presented to his eyes, thinking of anything less no longer seemed possible or even acceptable. To pass up such a carefully prepared surprise would be a terrible waste. White intended to savor it to the fullest, since Karaka himself was providing him with such an opportunity.
The flattery in White's voice made Karaka's eyes narrow and his eyebrows frown, but despite that he seemed quite pleased to hear it. Even if Karaka didn't show it, he seemed to be very much enjoying White's interest in him. It only made his offering more exciting.
"But since you say it's a gift from FUG, I'll gladly accept it."
Karaka let out a soft sigh, the longing in his gaze overpowered his awkwardness for a second before quickly melting away. Still trying to keep himself under control? White could see that his eyes raised to meet his weren't as piercing and judgmental as they usually were, but Karaka was still capable of concealing himself behind a mask of impassivity.
As frustrating as it was, White was intrigued. How long would it take him to finally remove the heavy burden from Karaka's heart and the tentacles from his body?
He was going to find out one way or another. Leaning closer to Karaka's face, White sensually ran his fingers over one of the tendrils, memorizing the feel of the cool smooth metal, every protrusion and joint. Surprisingly, it was met with a convulsive gasp that would have turned into a moan had Karaka not pulled himself together, looking up at White with wide eyes.
Curiosity filled White, and he continued his movement, rubbing the scars of the armor and drawing more stunned sounds from the Slayer. Karaka flinched and made a feeble attempt to pull away, but couldn't move, trapped by his own tendrils tightly bounding his body.
"Isn't that your own ability, Karaka?" White asked eagerly, placing his other hand on the tentacles to trace their outline. Karaka's breathing became ragged, his cheeks flushed even redder, though he no longer tried to move. "Why can't you just remove them?"
Karaka whimpered at White's inquiring tone as he wouldn't leave his tentacles alone. He swallowed, a crack finally appearing in the hardness of his gaze, revealing the embarrassment hidden within.
"FUG made sure they couldn't be removed without your permission," Karaka muttered, his voice dropping, but he kept watching intently as White's eyes gleamed with triumph. "And they've been… modified. Now I feel every touch on them."
"Oh, so they are sensitive?" White smirked, instantly grasping what Karaka actually meant to say, and deliberately running another long stroke along the tentacles. "I did't know FUG was capable of doing something like that. What's more, they require my permission? What an intriguing technology. How about we test how it works now?"
Karaka beneath him shuddered at his words and looked away. A shadow of doubt crossed his face, his cheeks burning, but after a brief hesitation, he spoke quietly.
"White, please be gentle with me…"
…
Wait, would Karaka really act like that? White snapped out of his thoughts for a second when the inaccuracy of Karaka's image became too obvious to ignore. Well, never mind, it was his fantasies anyway.
At that moment White's mental image smiled and placed a hand on Karaka's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body. Lingering for a few moments, it slid lower, running it down Karaka's arm to reach his wrists bound behind his back and trace teasing circles across them.
A single insistent touch was enough for the tendrils to move slowly and begin to unravel just enough to free Karaka's hands. The new Slayer shifted in surprise, pulling his hands out from behind his back only for White to grab them in his own grip, clenching his wrists in a fist.
His other hand slid down Karaka's back, and he pressed down on the Slayer beneath him to gently lay him on the bed. Karaka let out a soft sound as White forced his bent knees lower and immediately pressed his lips against the metal. The kisses slowly moved upward following the tentacles, while White's fingers traced Karaka's waist teasing the sensitive protrusions and passing between them to touch the bare skin.
Clearly embarrassed by the faint sound that unintentionally escaped his lips before, Karaka hissed as White's lips touched his exposed collarbones and neck. The pink light falling on his body intensified the craving to trace long lines along his entire body and meet the faint resistance caused by his charming shyness.
White smirked, leaving bites and hickies on Karaka's skin marking who this lovely gift belonged to. Even if he saw it only today, only now, White intended to forever etch into his memory the sight of Karaka's face flushed with shame and the tentacles twitching and clinging to his naked body.
He pressed himself against Karaka's throat and left a new vivid mark there, simultaneously rubbing the tentacle at his thigh.
Karaka's back arched immediately, only giving White the opportunity to wrap his arms more comfortably around his body, and his closed eyes looked at the Slayer above him with a desperate desire he would never be able to voice aloud.
But White didn't need words. Tonight, he wanted to draw screams and pleas from Karaka.
"Well, it's finally time to free you from the remaining packaging," he said, pulling away from Karaka and moving his hands to the barely covered hips, already feeling the tentacles begin to move, slowly exposing the body beneath him. "I can't wait to finally see what my real gift looks like."
The thing that snapped White out of his reverie this time was the sensation of his parched mouth from the overly vivid image of bare legs imprinted in his mind.
Gosh, little Candidate and new Slayer were driving him crazy. The idea of their bodies being laid out before White as if on a silver platter was too tempting, to the point that White wasn't even sure he could wait until his birthday and not go mad with hunger.
Maybe he should have a drink himself? It didn't seem like he'd be able to shake those craving thoughts from his mind anytime soon. There was so much he could gain from this celebration, and his greed was growing exponentially. A couple of glasses of something strong right now would help him quell his impatience.
Although, on second thought, there would be so much alcohol waiting for him at the celebration that he couldn't possibly drink it all in his entire lifetime, and White didn't want to behave like the FUG bigwigs, drinking nonstop only to end up passing out and losing all the attention focused on him once again.
The thought of gathering with these people and discussing how FUG is thriving (though Slayers must do more to avoid a crisis), how wonderful the wine they are drinking is (though it leaves a bitter, rough aftertaste on a tongue), and how good it was that White was back in their ranks (though they were the ones who had taken his Throne), only made him feel sick.
Maybe if he had more pleasant company, he might be able to find something nice in going a little further than a few glasses of wine and giving in to the weightless sensation throughout his body. Someone with whom he could talk not about FUG's problems or what he owed to whom. Someone who didn't care about his title or his future power and how to use it. Someone who would help him forget himself for a moment…
"Hey, you're zoning out. Don't tell me you're such a lightweight that just a couple of shots were enough for you."
A huge hand in front of him brought White back from his thoughts to the half-empty pub owned by someone from FUG, while the dog continued to wave his hand in front of his face. Annoyed, White pushed it away, finally lifting his eyes from Yama's broad chest where his wandering gaze had lingered several times that evening.
How did he even manage to fit it into such a tight shirt…
"Don't be silly," he snorted, looking straight into Yama's bright yellow eyes.
Why did they remain so sharp and focused even after drinking so much alcohol? It must have had something to do with the muscle mass of that terror of any gym. Sure, if White were just as big and muscular, he wouldn't have any trouble either, endlessly downing glass after glass and shot after shot while barely getting drunk.
"To really get me drunk, you'll have to buy a lot more than just a few bottles."
Yama huffed, his eyebrow twitching, but White knew it was from amusement, not his usual irritation., Looks like alcohol was having some effect even on the mighty dog after all if he could judge by his elevated mood. Good.
"Oh, really? Then go ahead and order another one! It's all on me today, birthday boy," Yama boasted, his already loud voice rising even higher, causing a painful jolt in White's head. "Besides, I wouldn't mind seeing just what great Slayer will be when he's completely drunk. I'm sure you'll look cute and act so sweet."
"Dream on," White snarled in response taking another measured sip from his glass and eyeing the bottles at the bar. Hmm, maybe he really should order more. It was his celebration, he could afford as much wine as he wanted today. "And don't act like you're spending your own money on me, you vain hound. I know you won't spend a single point. You'll just suck everything out of the FUG budget."
Yama exhaled loudly, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to argue, instead he slung his arm over White's shoulders and laughed in his ear. White's face almost fell right onto his chest in astonishment, but he was quick enough to straighten up, though not enough to brush Yama's hand away.
This dog wasn't just huge and abnormally strong, but surprisingly warm too. Hot even. Through his clothes, White could feel Yama's muscles and the heat of his body as he remained pressed against him, with no hope of escaping. Yama's breath scorched his face, and White felt his cheeks burning like never before. Or perhaps it was just from how much he'd already drunk.
Yama was the one who had dragged him into this seemingly ordinary pub a few hours ago under the pretext of escaping the tedious conversations of moron old men, and oddly enough, White agreed immediately. Maybe he wanted to get rid of the nagging voices surrounding him. Maybe he just wanted to knock back something strong and not feel like a loser drinking alone.
Or maybe he really did enjoy Baylord Yama's company, even if he was incredibly arrogant and loud, and the zipper on his shirt kept tempting White to pull it and reveal his muscular chest.
White shook his head, looking away from that seductive body for the hundredth time. Which was difficult to do this time since Yama still wouldn't let him move away.
"Sorry, rugrat, I still need to feed my people." Yama smirked, pulling White even closer to him. He had to summon all his strength to suppress the urge to push the dog away, while placing a palm directly on his chest and perhaps holding it there for a second to feel it rise under his touch. "There are so many new pups in the Cage, and as the leader, I have to make sure they grow up strong and healthy."
At any rate, White was now drunk enough not to dwell on the reasons why he'd accepted Yama's invitation or why his clothes looked so tight today, and for these conversations to start driving him crazy. They'd been here since early evening, and all that time Yama had been chattering away while White tried to keep his gaze fixed on his face, but the more he heard about the Cage, the more he wanted to keep drinking.
"Don't say another word, King of the Dogs," he muttered, finishing his drink and allowing himself to relax in Yama's embrace. If only those strong arms were wrapping around something other than his shoulders. "I'm tired of hearing about Canine people. If you've got nothing better to say, then shut up."
The grip tightened slightly, and White looked up immediately meeting a pair of wildly yellow eyes that seemed bestial in the bar's light. Yet there was no condemnation or anger in them. White saw only cheerful curiosity and something predatory and penetrating within. He froze, feeling Yama's warmth envelop him more and more intensely.
"How can you still be so cocky even after emptying half the bar?" Yama asked mockingly, glancing at him askance. White almost mentioned that this dog was the one who finished most of the shots, but he felt too tired for arguments. "Alright, let's get out of here. I want to show you something."
Not giving him time to answer, Yama stood up and dragged White along with him, deftly grabbing a bottle and two glasses from the bar on the way. Whether intentionally or not ignoring his lazy protest, hound muttered something to the bartender and without letting go of White wandered off to some distant part of the pub until they stopped at a door which Yama flung open without a moment's hesitation.
"What… is this?" White asked stunned, looking around the small furnished room right inside the pub.
"They have rooms here for some of the VIP FUG members. For those who don't want to hang out with the other drunks," Yama explained simply, dragging them toward the sofa. "I figured you'd appreciate this, lone Slayer."
"I do appreciate it," White admitted, pulling back slightly from Yama as they sat down on the cushions. Though their shoulders were still almost touching. "But is that all?"
He pointed dismissively at the bottle and glasses Yama brought with him. Dog smirked and began pouring the wine slowly, White's eyes fixed on the unusually elegant movement of those powerful hands. If Yama rolled up his sleeves, White was sure he'd be able to see the lines of protruding veins and those stunning muscles.
"I asked to bring more right here, so drink this for now." Yama held out a glass to him, and White took it silently, his fingers briefly touching Yama's for a moment, lingering on the contact. "Unless you're bothered by my company, of course."
"How noble." White huffed and glanced intently at his face, taking a sip and deliberately slowly licking his reddened lips, not breaking eye contact even for a second. "Don't worry, your company is definitely better than those old men. You know that yourself."
Yama chuckled and moved closer cautiously, placing a hand on the back of the sofa and leaning over White. His chest was right in front of the Tenth Slayer's face, and that damn zipper swayed faintly like a pendulum, capturing all of White's attention. He was so close, just one 'careless' move would be enough to finally satisfy the curiosity that had been tormenting White for several hours.
"My eyes are higher, White."
The souls inside him stirred, and White looked up noticing Yama's big smirk. How rarely he called him by his name. Maybe this was the first time he'd ever heard it come from the mouth of that insolent dog. It felt new. And delightful.
"Then maybe you shouldn't try to tower over me if you want me to look into them," he parried, but his body ached with a burning need, and it was already impossible to ignore the feeling. The more time he spent with this wild creature, the less composure he had left. Now that they were alone, the wine warmed his throat and Yama's heat warmed his body, he no longer wanted to keep himself under control.
"Although you like it, you have to admit it."
And judging by Yama, he shared his feelings too. His large hand slid down White's thigh, slowly exploring and parting the folds of his clothes, and he let him. Setting the bottle and glasses on the table, he extended his hand and finally felt what he'd been thinking about all evening. Yama's chest was just as firm and smooth as he'd imagined, his fingers mindlessly sliding over it through the fabric with a slight annoyance that it was still hidden from him.
Yama's hand on his thighs rose and wrapped around his waist, abruptly pulling White closer. White felt Yama's hot breath on his face again, but it no longer annoyed him. On the contrary, he wanted to feel more, to pull Yama's face toward him and press his lips against Yama's, closing the remaining inches between them. They were both hungry beasts. They both needed this.
"Such a cocky King," he teased, but his playful tone held nothing but genuine delight.
Yama said nothing, only bared his teeth and slowly moved closer. White closed his eyes, savoring the anticipation of a soft touch on his lips, but the moment was broken by a sudden knock at the door. Grumbling irritably, Yama stepped away and walked to the door exchanging a few words with the servant and accepting several bottles. All this time White didn't take his eyes off his broad back, mentally cursing whoever interrupted him from digging his nails into it right now and leaving his marks on the skin.
"Hey, Tenth Slayer, here's champagne, martinis, whiskey…" Yama muttered discontentedly, examining the bottles in his hands as soon as the door slammed shut behind the servant. "I should've told them to bring something better."
"To hell with alcohol, Baylord Yama," White cut him off, growling impatiently. "I want you to fuck me right now."
Yama froze in place staring at him in shock, only his ear twitching slightly.
In the next few minutes, the bottles of alcohol were tossed onto the couch, and the glasses were swept off the table in one motion and shattered on the floor, but Slayers paid no attention to it, pressing desperately against each other and sharing a sloppy kiss. Yama's hands rested beneath White's thighs and lifted him to sit on the table, while White wrapped his arms around Yama's neck and wouldn't let him pull away.
Yama loomed over him, his hands sliding down his sides and chest, pulling his clothes off. White smirked as his shoulders were bared, and dog's piercing gaze was fixed on the pale skin reflecting his obvious craving to sink his fangs into it. Yama jerked and spread White's legs which immediately wrapped around his hips.
"You're finally going to get what you wanted so badly, White." Yama said hoarsely and pulled the zipper on his shirt slowly exposing his chest. "I want you to remember every sensation tonight."
White purred to himself, the heat of his fantasies took on a very real and tangible form filling his chest and everything below it.
He really should have waited for the celebration to begin, he absolutely couldn't spoil such a surprise for himself. The cake, the gift, the alcohol – everything he'd seen on every birthday at FUG promised to be far more exciting and thrilling this year.
Though that still wasn't all.
White's smirk widened, his smugness returning in full force causing the souls inside him to flutter and his heart to race.
As long as the alcohol flowed freely, the night would go on, which meant the surprises weren't over yet. Even the old men never went to bed right after drinking wine, choosing instead to continue messing with White's mind until he gave in and retired to his quarters on his own, hearing behind the touched voices saying how sweet the younger generation of Slayers was.
How disgusting that was. Please, he wasn't even from the latest generation! If he hadn't been locked up on the Hell Train all this time, they would know exactly how respectfully they should speak to him.
He'd rather spend the night anywhere, as long as it was far away from the FUG elite. Perhaps on some of the Floors he could find something worthwhile besides bars and restaurants. Something that might chase away his boredom. Or in the company of someone eager to do it for him…
White looked up, watching as the billiard balls scattered across the table, accompanied by a ringing sound and a satisfied chuckle. The calculating blue eyes narrowed, assessing the change in the situation on the table. And judging by the barely perceptible pride in them, he was quite pleased with his own play.
Khun's son casually brushed his bangs back and finally turned his gaze to White who was sitting to the side.
"Hey, White, you've just been watching for a while now. Don't you want to join in and play yourself?"
His silky voice broke the sacred silence between them, if you didn't count the soft background music coming from somewhere in the ceiling speakers. White simply crossed his legs, smirking and returning the stubborn gaze.
"No, no, I'm fine just watching you from here," he replied with a teasing smile, his eyes unambiguously sweeping over Khun's figure as he raised his eyebrows. "You look good when you're reveling in your victory."
Especially when the black jacket was thrown off his shoulders in the heat of the moment, and right now Khun stood before his eyes in just a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and perfectly fitted trousers that hugged and accentuated his ass.
From where he sat, White could see every curve of Khun's body as he leaned over the table ostensibly deep in thought, instantly capturing White's undivided attention. That little bastard definitely knew exactly what he was doing with his movements and gestures that were far too graceful to be considered accidental.
"You're making me sound too self-absorbed and vain. That's not about me at all," Khun objected, tilting his head.
And there was that damn pose again, with a hand on his hip. Khun too actively used knowledge that White's gaze would inevitably drift from his face to his slender waist contours of which couldn't hide even a shirt, and to his lean hips. All too aware of his own attractiveness and White's hunger for more, Khun was becoming insufferable, continuing to tease him ever since he'd brought him here.
"You rented an entire billiard hall just to impress me. Isn't that enough to call you that?" White retorted.
"I didn't do it to show off my wealth at all. Today is the great Slayer's birthday, and I couldn't let him die of boredom on some ship. Better that he spend the night with me than with the FUG leadership and come up with something I'll have to fix somehow later."
White snorted at his words and self-assured smile. Khun didn't even try to hide his sarcasm from the 'great Slayer', and to be honest, that was what White liked so much about him. That natural charm and seductiveness were dangerous weapons and in the hands of Khun's children they became a deadly trap from which there was hardly any escape.
Khun knew this himself, and White knew it perfectly well too, and yet he followed him to some distant Floor, not giving a damn about the toasts and endless conversations of the Elders and everyone who had enough courage to speak to the Slayer. Here, in an empty hall with dim lamps on the ceiling, mostly illuminating the table and the figure of the man before him, they were on equal footing.
No one would have stopped them if for some reason, they had pounced on each other to plunge knives and swords into each other's throats. Khun had always been a cautious opponent, but for some reason today he had seized such a crude and clumsy opportunity, meeting face-to-face not just with someone from FUG, but with White himself. And now actively trying to seduce him.
"And yet you've chosen a very interesting place," White remarked, lazily surveying the room and casting a satisfied glance at the man before him. "It's very romantic here. Did you really go to all this trouble just for me?"
"I did want you to like my gift. Creating the right atmosphere for tonight is just one of the things I actually did," Khun narrowed his eyes slyly, his hand sliding smoothly off his thigh to pick up the cue he'd set aside. "You can order as much food and drink from the bar as you like, it's all included in the price."
White's eyes were fixed on the unhurried movement of Khun's fingers along the cue as he idled instead of continuing. A satisfied sound escaped his throat, and White shifted in his chair showing genuine interest for the first time.
"I think I've had enough treats and alcohol for now," he said contentedly. This day was indeed filled with all sorts of entertainment for him. All day long he was feted, pampered and teased with his desires. And yet he still felt a hunger that light snacks and glasses of cheap wine couldn't satisfy, and the depth of the eyes across from him didn't help at all.
"Then enjoy the show."
A faint smile appeared on Khun's flawless face before he turned away from White, shifting his attention to the pool table. White's gaze remained fixed on him watching with growing excitement as Khun's back arched and he pressed his chest against the table to calculate the angle of the shot.
Though White didn't care about how accurately Khun's son was shooting or how quickly the pockets were filling up. All he could focus on was how Khun's ass lifted and how tightly his pants stretched as he leaned over the table.
White's fingers twitched, and he slowly stood up just as Khun struck one of the balls and the ringing sound rang out again, this time seeming louder than before. As if marking the start of the real game.
Walking up to the table, White glanced quickly at the arrangement of the balls finding nothing of interest there, and instead looked at Khun who unfortunately straightened up after his successful shot not giving White time to enjoy the view beneath him.
"Didn't like the spectacle?" Khun asked, teasing him.
"Not at all," White replied, trying to ignore his own desire to grab those slender hips and trap the insolent bastard between his body and the table. "I just decided to join the game."
"Glad to hear it," a devilish spark flashed in Khun's eyes, and he shifted holding out a cue to White. "It will be an honor to play against the FUG Slayer."
Taking it from Khun's hands, White shifted leaning over the table just as he had and casually brushing back the strands of hair that fell over his shoulders. It wasn't as if he was particularly eager to play when there was something far more interesting than a silly human pastime right in front of him. And yet he couldn't deny that the sight of how sharp Khun's gaze became as he calculated his moves made him feel a slight interest.
He hadn't played anything like this in a long time, but it clearly shouldn't be any harder than wielding Arie's sword. The cue lay freely and confidently in his hand as if extending it and guiding his movements. No sweat, nothing he couldn't handle on the first try.
"Wow, that was a surprisingly lousy shot."
Khun whistled as soon as the balls collided and scattered across the table failing to fall into any of the pockets. White looked around the table in bewilderment, still not realizing his own move. It seemed he'd put too much strength into it. He could have sworn he saw one of the balls bouncing off the rails for a few seconds just like in pinball.
"Ahem… I should have guessed this thing was much lighter than my sword," White muttered, casting a disappointed glance at the cue as if it just betrayed him. In fact, that was exactly what happened. He could have conquered this thing so easily if it had recognized his greatness and been even a little heavier than an ordinary stick.
"Maybe if you change your stance, you'll have a better chance of succeeding," Khun smiled quietly holding back a laugh, and stepped right up close to White making him flustered for just a second. "Here, let me show you."
Khun's hand rested on White's back and pressed gently, urging him to lower himself. After resisting for a full second, White bent down with a touch of irritation but also curiosity, allowing Khun to guide him.
"If you shift your leg like this, you'll have enough foothold to strike right at the center," Khun explained, pressing against White from behind. One hand remained patronizingly on his back, while the other slid down White's thigh, gently spreading his legs apart. "You don't need to treat the cue like your sword. Think of it merely as a stepping stone on the path to your success."
White's eyes widened as the weight fell on his back, pressing his chest against the table. Khun practically lay on top of him, and his hand shifted, slowly tracing White's side and arm to grasp and direct the cue alongside him. A soft voice sounded very close to his ear.
"Don't hit too hard. Allow yourself to be gentle."
Under Khun's guidance, cue moved and sent one of the balls forward, knocking two others at once and sinking them into the pockets. A shiver ran down White's spine as he felt Khun's laughter on his skin.
"You really are a pro, I have to admit," White mumbled, tilting his head to glance at the man above him.
"Please, I'm just not used to losing," Khun smirked. "That's why I'm constantly striving for self-improvement."
It went without saying that this was clearly evident in the way Khun presented himself to the Tower. His perfect image was blinding and seeped under the skin, touching something inside and making it impossible to forget this bastard. Khun Aguero Agnis was a stunner in his own right, and it was impossible to feel neutral toward him.
That was exactly why White was here, letting the Regular pay for him. All this talk and billiards were meaningless compared to his true desire which Khun knew all too well.
"By the way, it'll be easier for you if you take off your cloak. Let me help you."
White felt Khun's hands slide under his clothes, tracing the contours of his body and pulling the cloak off him. But even after tossing it onto the table, Khun didn't pull away or stop what he was doing. He clasped White's waist and pressed their hips together, relishing the feeling of towering over the Slayer. White exhaled, glancing at him over his shoulder but not daring to stand up under that intense gaze.
"Well, do you still want to keep playing?" Khun asked, as if mocking the burning craving that was surging through White's body from his touch.
"If you don't want to leave me bored… don't even think about stopping touching me, Khun Aguero Agnis," White hissed, moving his hips back and pressing himself against Khun.
He heard a chuckle and the sound of rustling clothes above him. Khun loosened his tie and tossed it aside, returning his hands to White's body.
"Perfect. I was just about to entertain you even more."
White spent the entire day in excited waiting, feeling his curiosity grow as the hour of celebration approached, and his fantasies becoming bolder and more vivid, intensifying his already endless thirst.
FUG made it quite clear to him that they were willing to offer one of their Gods the finest gifts, but this was an initiative not merely of the organization, but of people who desperately wanted a piece of him. Of course, he couldn't refuse them, especially on his anniversary. He would wait for them here with open arms and welcome them allowing to take a bite out of him and receive even more in return.
He was patient enough to greet the new day in high spirits, not letting his longing show in his gait or gestures as he strolled lazily through the FUG ship, greeting more and more unfamiliar faces with each passing hour.
"Happy birthday, Lord White! Accept our sincerest congratulations and regards."
Just as he had expected, the feast began noisily with people from FUG constantly joining him, bowing to White and offering him either long and tedious but carefully considered flattering speeches, or brief timid greetings and obsequious compliments.
White barely listened to them, preferring to dwell on his thoughts of the surprise from the most desired guests at his celebration and to discreetly search for them with his eyes through the crowd of pompous officials. It didn't seem like they had arrived yet. Or rather… they were waiting for him in some more private place.
A chuckle escaped his lips at the thought. Oh, he couldn't wait any longer. He was filled with so uncontrollable desire that White was certain he could devour all the dishes laid out before him in just a few bites and still feel hungry.
At least he would have those who would help him get his fill, no matter how long he continued to sink his teeth into the flesh in an attempt to satisfy the ravenous monster inside. This day belonged to him, and the gifts presented to him could be nothing else.
"Where is our host?" A soft voice sounded from afar, yet it felt as if it instantly silenced all other sounds and penetrate straight into White's mind. He turned around curiously, watching as the Head of FUG himself walked leisurely through the rows of people parting in reverence. "Ah, there you are. Look at yourself, you've grown so much. Have you managed to gather more tormented souls somewhere else?"
Spotting him, Grace Mirchea Luslec made his way to White with remarkable speed and agility, paying no heed to the whispers behind him. Much to White's surprise, he even looked presentable (which could be said at least because his robe was tucked in and his wide chest was not exposed), though his eyes were suspiciously narrowed and a sly smile didn't leave his face.
Perhaps White shouldn't have read too much into it. Luslec almost always walked around with a similar twinkle in his eyes, and today he himself had plenty of reasons to be amused.
"Greetings, Lord Grace. I'm afraid it's been too long since we last met, so you've gotten that impression," White said, giving the Head of FUG a brief nod. "I haven't fed on power for quite some time. But I hope that will change today."
"Of course, we've already prepared souls for you," Luslec chuckled, seemingly quite amused by his greed. "But I'm sure you remember that's not all. My lovely Slayers – and ah, the son of Khun – should already be here to present you with the main gift. Look, here they are."
In that very second, a heavy hand fell on White's shoulders, nearly forcing him to bend under the unexpected weight. A rasping sigh escaped him before he looked up and met Yama's smirk. Dog smiled at him and continued to hold him tightly in a parody of a hug.
"Happy birthday, asshole!" He shouted right next to his ear, making White wince. "What a fancy feast they've thrown for you, I must say."
White mumbled something faintly in response, too distracted by the ringing in his ears and the feel of Yama's large body pressed against him. His loud voice and tactility were just like in his fantasies, except for his shirt… It was baggy, too baggy, as if mocking him on purpose.
Well, okay, it didn't mean anything. Maybe his imagination did get a little carried away in his impatient wait. But in other respects, he had to be right, didn't he?
"Happy birthday, White."
He heard two voices at once to his right and turned his gaze to see Khun Aguero Agnis and Karaka standing right in front of him. Looking nothing like he had wished.
The same old robe and that damn armor covered Karaka's entire body as usual, instantly shattering all of White's hopes. No gift ribbons, no pretty bows on top. Fine, he supposed that made sense. The celebration was in full swing, and Karaka would never have agreed to show up at it looking like that. He just had to wait until evening.
As for Khun… Strangely enough, he didn't wear his favorite shirt and black tie, the one White always wanted to yank on to bring their faces closer, even though it seemed like the perfect outfit for the event. Instead, he wore a standard formal suit, which, however, did nothing to cheer up White's fading enthusiasm.
"And where is Jue Viole Grace?" He asked, clinging to his last hope. Everything else wasn't going the way he'd imagined, but maybe his main treat was already waiting for him somewhere?
"He must be still busy with your gift. He should be here by now," Luslec replied, and at that moment the kitchen doors swung open, and all conversation fell silent. "Ah, just in time."
White looked in that direction in surprise, and his astonishment grew with every millisecond, overshadowing his slight disappointment. What… is that…
Walking straight toward them and paying no attention to the equally bewildered faces of FUG members, Jue Viole Grace (in his usual clothes, not even a trace of cream on him or at least a cute apron) held something massive that nearly touched the ceiling. White's jaw dropped as Candidate stopped in front of him and the shadow of the two-meter cake fell across his face. Feeling a slight fear and a fluttering of souls inside him, he looked it over noting several dozen tiers and numerous candles on each.
How much did this thing even weigh… Jue Viole Grace carried it without the slightest effort, but White could have sworn that such a pile of cream and layers of cake could have buried him if it had fallen on him right now.
"What is this..?" White asked in shock, a hint of nervousness audible in his voice as his fantasies vanished without a trace.
"Happy birthday. Even though you haven't been on your best behavior this year, we've prepared a little gift for you," Viole answered impassively, and White's fear that he might 'accidentally' drop this sweet monster on him only grew.
"This cake contains the souls that FUG gathered for you, so you'll be able to fully enjoy its flavor," Khun explained with a satisfied smirk on his face at White's obvious bewilderment.
Was that even possible? White no longer understood anything; he only felt that this surprise was far beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was too much.
"The Soul-Stirring Ladle helped with that. Who would have thought it could be used for something like this…” Karaka muttered, and White silently agreed with him.
"We didn't know how many candles to add, so we settled on 600," Yama added giving White a light shake on the shoulder in puppyish glee.
"Just like the length of your imprisonment on the Hell Train," Jue Viole Grace noted grimly. "Isn't that great? Please, White, accept our gift to you."
By shooting Shinsu straight into the cake Viole made all the candles fly out and White's eyes widen. What kind of technique was that and when had the Slayer Candidate managed to learn it? But before he could ask that question, the hand on his shoulder shifted and pressed against the back of his head. White let out a quiet yelp, and his face fell into the cake amid Yama's laughter which was joined by the chuckles of the others.
"The real party is finally starting, gentlemen!" Luslec shouted, pulling a glass out of nowhere and raising it high to the enthusiastic cheers of FUG members. "Let's have a proper drink today in honor of our Tenth Slayer!"
White raised his head in annoyance, feeling the cream all over his face. People walked past him, patting him on the back and shoulders and offering more and more congratulations, but White wasn't listening to them. They didn't lied to him at least, he could indeed taste the cake and feel the strength slowly returning. But that was a little consolation.
"Hey, happy birthday, kid. My best wishes to you." Another man approached him, and from his black shirt, White vaguely recognized in him Jue Viole Grace and Karaka's Master. Ha Jinsung, he thought? "And I'll say that to you just in case. Don't go near my students, okay?"
His relaxed voice lowered menacingly before he gave White a firm pat on the shoulder as a hint and walked over to Luslec trying to stop him from mixing a nuclear cocktail from three bottles of something potentially lethal.
White wiped his face irritably and scanned the room. So much for FUG's generous offering.
On the other hand, he could always get his share later, right? He couldn't care less about some old man's threats. His birthday was a special day not only for him, but for the people around him as well. His confidence returned, and White licked his lips on which still was a bit of cream, more and more new thoughts filled his head, causing a surge of impatience in his body.
He was going to have a really good time on his birthday, no matter what. Even if he had to take the initiative himself.