Chapter Text
“Please-”
They could see their breath in the air. The soft, puffy vapor of their own oxygen being expelled, changed, twisting into something else. Twisting the same way their fingers twisted into dark, straight hair, wild hair, beautiful hair. Their eyes were wide, dark, blown- and the blood on their lip was coating their tongue in such a way that they tasted nothing but copper and desire.
“Please, Chara,”
“Tell me what you are, Frisk.”
“Wh-wha---?”
“Go on.” their nails dragged down the fragile skin of their side. They yelped. Claws sheering the wool of the sheep, the wolf digging into the meat and tearing out the organs of a killer to expose them to the world under the guise of doing everyone a favor. Then again, a god owed their people nothing; for it was their own hand that created and destroyed at will. So perhaps this deity was simply opening them up for fun.
“I...I don't know what you mean, I-”
There is a sharp, stinging pain, overcome by a pinprick of pleasure that turns into a total throb of ecstasy, and the sound that comes from their own throat is guttural, animal, wholly inhuman. They now know what Chara means.
“I'm- yours-”
“My what?”
“Your – soldier, your hunter, your – yes!”
They have been so good at keeping their words strictly to what Chara asks them to say, but one shift in their fingers sends that plan reeling. They arch their body up starting from the hips and working up to the chest until they fruitlessly try again to kiss the being that is the center for both pleasure and pain, for salvation and damnation. They are trying to kiss the world and the world is grinning that beautiful, massive smile, that stretches all the way from Canada to Russia.
“Now, now. Do not be greedy. I will give you everything you need, Frisk. You must have patience-” there is a sharp, thin cut that joins seven on their stomach. They whine, but it turns into the tail end of a moan when Chara's lips cover it. “I know what is best. I know how to make you feel good. Do you not trust me? My judgement?”
“No!” There is the sudden removal of Chara's body completely. Their god is hovering over them, withdrawn wholly. There is no point of contact. They become wide-eyed and terrified and desperate in a new way. They reach out longingly, but their fingers phase right through. Chara is still fully clothed, but there is no cloth to touch.
“No, what?” The words are venom. They drink it anyway.
“No, I- I trust you, your judgment, your- your- everything! I love you, please, don't stop, don't leave me, please don't-”
“...Why, Frisk. Of course I will not leave. Do you really think I could, I would? You are everything to me. You are the only thing left of this world that I adore. You mean more to me than anything.”
They look astounded despite the fact that they have heard these words, and similar, all before. They swallow and lick their lips and try to breathe again. They feel warm all over and their heart is racing. Their general looks down upon them and that smile splits their face again.
“You may touch yourself, if you like. You seem so … desperate. You can hardly focus in a condition like that.”
Tentatively, they do what they are asked, but they are clearly nervous; shy, uncertain. It does not feel good in the way that Chara always makes them feel good. Silence reigns for too long and they are about to stop and say they do not feel like it anymore, but there's a voice that slices through their mind as sharp as the knife that's placed so tenderly down, cool flat metal to skin, on their cheek. Chara is inches from their face and their forehead slowly bumps into the other's and the eye-contact is so ferocious and strong that they almost tremble beneath the power of it.
'You are my favorite. You are the only living thing in this world that I love. I am always with you, even when you cannot see me. I love you when you are small and meek. I love you when you are proud and strong. I love you covered in dust and I love you covered in flowers, at the end and at the beginning.'
They find it easy to touch themselves again. They stare and they frantically gasp but they do not dare writhe or move. They try very hard to remain wholly still as Chara looks at them and whispers into their mind. Nothing is more euphoric than being loved. Nothing.
'You are mine and mine alone. Do not forget, my beautiful hunter. Do not underestimate our bond. Your SOUL is mine, your devotion is mine. You belong to me. You are my perfect warrior, the only reason I keep this universe alive. Truly, Frisk, you are the sun. Everything orbits around you. I spin every planet-'
“Chara-”
'I orchestrate every movement, I set every stage, I animate all of the puppets-'
“Chara-! I---”
'For you. All for you, Frisk.'
“Please, please, say- say-”
'Say that I need you? I will not. I do not need you. I am a God among monsters, I need nothing and nobody now. No, I do not need you, Frisk. But that is, perhaps, the best part about this.'
They look confused, through their haze. Chara is smiling so wide that they shiver and they pause their own, pleasurable movements to ask a question that doesn't leave their lips. The simple, soft, smooth touch of Chara's to their own- the imitation of a kiss- stops them. They do not even get to pucker up. Chara doesn't either. After a moment, breathing directly into the parted lips of their pawn in this massive chess game worth a timeline, they speak aloud again.
“I do not need you. I choose you anyway. I want you.”
They have never experienced a euphoria that wracks both body and mind, but Chara blesses them with it just then, and in moments they are dizzy with the aftershocks.
Chara is still smiling.