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For whitehairedprettyboy.

[He'd spent a month not visiting Valmont at all. Not kidnapping him, not barging into his home unannounced, nothing.

Unbeknownst to Valmont, that was a month of seriously uncharacteristic self-reflection. A month where he'd had the inklings of Actual Feelings being involved and decided to squash them by not seeing Valmont for a while.

It hadn't worked. The more he avoided Valmont, the more he wanted to see him, until finally, one night-]

Valmoooooont~

[-he gave in.

Now he announces himself by draping himself over Valmont's shoulder. They're alone in his bedroom, which Valmont is probably thankful for.]

Did you miss me?

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Keep going~

[That's not proper begging yet, Valmont. Try harder.]

[ ...Oh. This isn't regular asking nicely we're talking about here, is it. Damn him - Valmont's face burns in the darkness, but he's already started giving in, no point holding back now, and some previously untapped wellspring of abasement overflows and spills out of him. ]

Please, I didn't mean - I shouldn't have tried to run away, I won't do it again, I'm - I'm sorry -

[ One would have been forgiven before now for wondering if Valmont even knew that word. But apparently he does, and there it is, and he wants to die. ]

That's more like it~ All you had to do was ask.

[And there Satanick is, right in front of him. He unlocks Valmont's bonds, and offers him a (normal) hand.]

I'll take you back upstairs. Wouldn't want you getting lost down here!

[ Valmont rubs his wrists and stares hazily at the proffered hand. He feels like he should be saying something at this point, cursing at Satanick or refusing to touch him or anything he'd say under normal circumstances, but for once, there don't seem to be any words left in him. Even if there were, he doesn't think he could summon up an actual will to argue, or to do much of anything else, really. He's just tired. He's so, so tired.

So he takes Satanick's hand and lets the demon lead him where he will. ]

[The only nice thing about the stairs being so long is that it gives Valmont's eyes time to adjust to light being a thing again.]

Here we are~ You must be hungry, aren't you? Would you like to be wined and dined~?

[He'll spoil Valmont. He will! This doesn't count.]

[ Valmont shades his eyes with his free hand as they make their way up the stairs. Ugh, yes. Light. Whose stupid idea was that stuff, anyway?

The other good thing about the length of the stairs is that it gives Valmont some more time to put his thoughts in order, and so he's a little more coherent once they reach the top. What he'd really like to do is lie down somewhere and sleep until he can forget any of this ever happened, but... on the other hand, he is in fact starving, and one of Satanick's words penetrates the lingering haze in his brain. Wine. That's as good a method of forgetting things as any. ]

...If you like.

[ Besides, he's not sure right now he's prepared to face the consequences of refusing anything else. ]

[That works, and Satanick won't even press Valmont for a proper answer.

He leads Valmont into a lavish dining room - the chairs are probably the most comfortable Valmont's ever sat on, the centerpieces are crystal, the works - and disappears briefly into the kitchen to talk to some servants, before returning.]

It'll just take a moment~ Make yourself comfortable, darling.

[ He's tired, leave him alone. Not so tired, though, that he doesn't snap upright and stare when they reach the dining room. This. This is the sort of luxury he should be surrounded by all the time, instead of being reduced to holing up in a fish cannery - or being chained up in a dungeon, for that matter. Damn it, why does someone as terrible as Satanick have to have such good taste?

Valmont doesn't have to be told twice to make himself comfortable. He wouldn't even have had to be told once, because he really needs to sit down after everything he's just been put through, and thank god these chairs are just as soft as they look. As it happens, he's so busy trying to determine whether he could fall asleep right here before dinner (verdict: probably yes) that he nearly misses the pet name at the end of Satanick's sentence. Then it occurs to him what he's just let himself be called, and he chokes. ]

Don't call me that!

[ Apparently he hasn't been completely beaten down tonight, at least not where the important things are concerned. ]

You don't like that? How about honey? Sweetheart? I can come up with more embarrassing ones if you want~

[Don't test him, because he absolutely, completely will.]

[ Full-body cringe. He's not sure how much more embarrassing these pet names could get, but he also knows never to underestimate Satanick when it comes to making things worse. ]

Why can't you just use my name?

But that's so cold! Unaffectionate! It won't do at all.

[...he's full of affection.]

My name is not unaffectionate.

[ He has the feeling that's not exactly how he'd meant to refute that assertion, but he's tired and it's close enough. ]

[Probably not at all, given the way Satanick's eyes light up.]

Oh, I'm glad~ You recognize my affections now ♥

[ Oh lord, that better not have somehow constituted an approval in Satanick's mind. ]

I recognize that you're attempting affection. As far as I can tell, that's all you've been doing, when you haven't been locking me in dungeons.

[ The last few words aren't so much said as winced. His wrists still hurt. ]

That's close enough! It's the thought that counts~

[So attempted affection is still affection.]

Funny how the only people who say that are the ones who can't produce actual results.

[ Whatever it is, he still isn't going to like it. ]

I've got all the time in the world to get it right. You just wait.

[ A strained sigh. Valmont knows he doesn't have any choice but to wait as long as Satanick wants - that's been made very, very clear to him by now - but that doesn't mean it's something he wants to think about or acknowledge in any way. So he stares resolutely at the table and says nothing. ]

[Soon enough, food literally appears at the table - plates and plates full of food, fancy dishes with exquisite presentation (even if some of the meats aren't quite identifiable as any Earth animal). There's also plenty of wine.]

Dig in~

[ You don't have to tell him twice. Actually, you don't even have to tell him once - Valmont's grabbed the nearest plate and begun tucking in before the second word is out of Satanick's mouth, manners be damned. He's starving.

It occurs to him eventually to consider that the food might be spiked with something, and for a moment he hesitates - but no, Satanick's probably got a hundred more direct ways to mess with his mind, what would he need drugs for? Besides, it's not like Valmont can very well turn down his only food source for the conceivable future, and anyway the food here really is incredible, if unidentifiable. He doesn't know if being subjected to a feast this extravagant after his confinement is some sort of carrot-and-stick mind game the demon's playing, or an actual effort to consider his needs, or if this is just what all of Satanick's meals are like. He doesn't know which option he likes least.

The wine doesn't go unnoticed, either. If he's going to forget this night (is it still night? He can never tell in this world) ever happened, alcohol seems like a decent place to start. And continue. And keep continuing. He doesn't question how the bottle hasn't run out yet, because apparently one of the infinite sodding perks of being a demon/devil/whatever-term-applies-here is supernaturally efficient food service. It's unfair, is what it is.

Unfair. The word echoes as he stares into his whateverth glass of wine. None of this is fair. The food, the furniture, the fanciness - this is the kind of luxury Valmont's always believed he deserves to live in, and now he is, and it doesn't mean anything because he doesn't have any damn power, he's at the whim of the second-worst demon in existence and he'll never be rich again and he doesn't deserve - ]

...damn it...

[ The glare he's been directing at his drink shifts, blurrily, to Satanick, and one hand steadies Valmont against the table as he shakily gets to his feet. ]

You shouldn't drink so much, it's bad for you.

[Satanick is nothing if not concerned for Valmont's health, of course. He reaches out to steady Valmont with one of his shadow arms.]

Shall I take you to bed? ...Actually bed, you should get some sleep.

Oh, shut up!

[ It comes out louder than he'd meant, but Valmont really can't bring himself to give two hangs about volume control right now. He makes to bat the shadow arm away, an I-can-stand-on-my-own gesture that loses some effect when he misses his target completely. ]

Don't pretend you actually care about my well-being! Don't you dare, not after what you've done to me, you - you -

[ Visions of handcuffs swim into his mind, and he hesitates. Even a few sheets to the wind, Valmont's aware that he could find himself back in that dungeon at any time, and he really doesn't want to give Satanick an excuse to do it. The sentence ends in a wordless growl, and for the moment, he doesn't move. ]

Of course I care about your well-being, Valmont dear~

[Satanick tries to scoop Valmont up. He's going to princess carry him and Valmont has very little say about this.]

You should know I haven't done anything all that terrible to you! Comparatively, anyway. Hmmmm, is that why you don't love me? Because you don't understand how good I treat you?

[Will it help if Satanick shows him all the tortures he visits upon his other toys? Because he will.]

Let me down, I can walk - !

[ What would have been a longer series of protests is thankfully interrupted by a bout of queasiness. The sudden motion of being picked up turns out not to agree with Valmont's stomach right now, and he has to take a minute to breathe before it's safe to continue. ]

Do you call locking someone in a dungeon for hours without food or water "treating them well"? Because I call it being a bloody lunatic, but what would I know!

[ Incidentally, it may be interesting to note that he hasn't actually started struggling this time. He'd planned to, but he's also incredibly tired, and after the night he's had, being held for a while doesn't seem... completely objectionable. ]

[Nope, not letting him down. Going to start walking off with him, in fact.]

Valmont, dear, darling.

You haven't seen what I do to everyone else.

[Valmont genuinely does get off lighter than most people Satanick takes notice of.]

For whitehairedprettyboy.

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