My pet.

From the first time she heard it used in reference to her, Gwen was enamored.  Pet.  It should not have delighted her the way it did.  Perhaps it was degrading, but it was a step up from being referred to as a monster in her eyes.  Regardless of the intent, she saw “pet” as a term of endearment.  Pets were a personal thing.  Him claiming her as this meant that she was more to him than just another vampire.  She quite enjoyed being what the other creatures of the castle would consider the Belmont’s lapdog; it came to her naturally.  She especially loved the attention that came with it.  As long as she obeyed him and kept him entertained, he treated his pet well.

It was life outside of Castlevania that took some getting used to for Gwen.  Literally overnight with the fall of the castle, everything had changed.  She was so much more to him now.  Richter put her on such a pedestal.  Before his family, he claimed she was an angel.   Behind closed doors, she was held in just as high of a regard.  “My pet” had been replaced with “my lady,” “my dear,” or “my love.”  No more did he treat her like he owned her.  She had become an equal and would soon be his wife.  It was wonderful.  It was everything she ever dreamed of, but there was something so unfamiliar about being loved like this.  The belief that something was missing nagged at her.  As much as she enjoyed it, it never did feel quite right.  It took some introspection to understand that she missed being his little pet.

With this realization, Gwen grew upset with herself for thinking like that.  There had to be something wrong with her.  After centuries, she earned someone’s respect and was finally being treated with dignity, yet she found herself longing for that feeling in her chest when he said those words to her.  She did not want to quit being his love, yet sometimes she wished she could be still his pet.

She didn’t know how to approach it.  She didn’t know if she should at all.  His behavior from Castlevania was a touchy subject.  Richter felt great shame about his actions while under the spell. Sometimes it kept him up at night and he would sit up with her, neither one sleeping.  Though she was nostalgic for the days when he was her lord, she tried not to bring them up out of fear of re-opening healing wounds.

Rare were the moments when they were completely alone.  Around his family, since they were not yet wed, the two did not rest in the same room.  This would soon be rectified, but until then, she did at least accompany him as he got ready for bed. He claimed he needed her by his side to fall asleep.  As she watched him rid himself of all his accessories, she felt that pang in her heart again.  Déjà vu of nights when he would rid himself of his weaponry before ravishing her were on the forefront of her mind.  She knew that would not happen, but wondered if someday it could again.  Rather than continue to dwell on it, she found herself calling his name.

“Richter…”

“Yes, Gwen?” he replied.  When she did not immediately respond, he looked over his shoulder back at her.  “What is it, my dear?”

“… Am I still your pet?”

His warm smile was deftly replaced with a frown of concern.  He approached the bed where she sat.

“Oh, Gwen,” Richter said, seating himself by her side.  He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.  “You’re my love, my everything.  You’re so much more than that, and you have my sincerest apologies for how I treated you.”

He squeezed her tighter and rocked her in his hold.  Oh, how she regretted even bringing it up.  She felt awful for how guilty he grew just at the mention of it.

“What brought this on?” he asked as he loosened his hold on her.  “What troubles you?”

“Richter…  I assure you; nothing troubles me.  ‘Twas nothing you did to prompt this.  ‘Tis just…  I am unsure how to say this,” she started.  He was quiet, giving her a chance to collect her thoughts.  “… At times…  I suppose I… I guess I miss… that…”

Her voice trailed off as she began to feel silly.  Her hesitation made it difficult for him to grasp what she was attempting to say.

“Miss…?”

She glanced away from him, staring at the boards of the floor instead.  She did not want to see how he would react to her being so… undignified.

“Being… your pet,” she managed to mumble.

“… You do?”

She nodded, causing him to look past her and nod as well.

“I… see,” he said.  After a beat, he corrected himself.  “Well, almost… I think.  What of it do you miss?”

A nervous laugh fell from her before she had a chance to stop it.  With one hand, she covered her face as she shook it.  Richter took that hand and pulled it away, holding it in both of his.

“‘Tis nothing to feel foolish about,” he assured her.  “I am genuinely curious.  I understand life here is strange and new to you.  No matter what, I wish to accommodate if it makes you feel more at home.”

“I suppose if I am being frank…  I will admit that there are nights I find myself craving a… more aggressive touch.”

A sharp inhale from him followed this revelation.  He blinked a few times in rapid succession as he processed it, making her cringe at admitting such a thing.

“It is my vow to keep you happy as long as I live,” he said before turning his attention back to her.  He stroked her cheek, then his fingers combed her hair back.  “If this is what delights you, then my pet you shall remain.”

When the strands were tucked behind her ear, he began to lightly scratch her scalp.  This gentle gesture had her leaning into his touch.  His smile returned, as did hers.

“I never wish to hurt you, my pet.  I never want you to suffer again, especially not because of me,” he said before sighing.  “That includes the ache of leaving you unsatisfied.  If a bit of pain is your true pleasure, I can indulge…”

He leaned forward, bringing his mouth to hers.  He did not yet kiss her.  His lips ghosted above hers, and she could feel his breath as it hitched.  The pools of cerulean she stared into studied her as he spoke again.

“On one condition…”

“Anything, Richter.”

After his lips softly brushed hers, his fingers tightened around her hair.  A fire flared in his eyes that she swore she’d never see again, and it stirred in her those familiar feral emotions that she so craved.

“In these private moments,” he purred.  “I wish to be your lord once more.”

With the way her face lit up, Richter knew she was more than okay with this condition.  The verbal confirmation soon followed.

“Yes!  Yes, of course, my lord.”

No sooner than these words left her lips did his mouth meld with hers.  His fist gripping her tresses kept her in place as he deepened the kiss.  He guided her by her hair to lay back onto the mattress, crawling atop her without parting as she moaned into his mouth.  With a leg wedged between hers, he pressed against her thigh and she could feel how badly he wanted her.  She clutched him tight, quivering from how much she needed him.

“‘Tis improper to go further than this,” he told her, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.  He made no efforts to move or stop himself from subtly grinding against her.  “I do not wish to bring shame to you in this household…”  His lips left hers to find her neck instead.  Open mouth kisses punctuated shaky breaths as he tried to will his body off of hers.  “But I promise…  I promise you, the night we wed, I will make it up to you tenfold.  Nights in Castlevania will be nothing compared to what I have in store for you.  Can you be patient for me, my dearest pet?”

“Y… Yes, my lord.”

With a final kiss and a pensive sigh, he pried himself away from her, ruffling her hair before sitting by her side.  Even if they couldn’t go all the way, just hearing him speak to her like that again was satisfying enough… as was the increased anticipation for the night she would be his bride.