Create And Destroy (Error X Ink)

Corting

"You know," Ink said, a hint of genuine concern creeping into his tone, "you shouldn't be here. What if the Queen comes in? Or her son? You know Asriel is practically glued to my side."

Error's grip on Ink tightened further, a warning squeeze that made Ink grunt softly. A low growl rumbled in Error's chest. "That brat hangs around you too much," he muttered, the words laced with possessive irritation.

Ink shook his head gently. "He's just worried. He's my friend, after all."

Error rolled his eyes, a silent commentary on Ink's naivety. "And I'm just a friend," he stated sarcastically, the words dripping with mock sweetness.

Ink's blush deepened, the colors on his cheekbones shifting to a richer, more embarrassed purple and blue. "You're a good friend," he corrected, trying to soften the blow, yet the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

Error, clearly not pleased with the label, spun Ink around in his grip, the sudden movement causing Ink to gasp and drop his paintbrush with a clatter onto the wooden floor. Ink found himself face-to-face with Error, their proximity electric.

"Only a 'good friend'?" Error's voice was low, dangerous, a direct challenge. "Is that all?"

Ink's blush flared, and he tried to take a step back, but Error permitted it only for a moment before following, matching Ink's retreat with an unwavering advance. "Does a 'good friend' know all your weaknesses, Ink?" Error's voice was a husky murmur, his gaze unwavering, pinning Ink in place.

Ink took another step back, a nervous tremor running through him, flinching slightly when Error reached out, his long fingers carefully tilting Ink's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Does a 'good friend' desire your touch, Ink? Crave it like air?"

Ink's blush deepened to an almost painful spectrum of crimson and indigo. Before he could formulate a response, Error's grip shifted, a sudden, powerful yank, pulling Ink off his feet and sending him stumbling backward onto the plush mattress of his bed. The luxurious silk sheets crinkled and groaned under their combined weight, a soft protest to the sudden intrusion.

Error leaned over him, his silhouette eclipsing the last rays of daylight filtering through the window. His voice, now a guttural whisper, was thick with intent. "Does a 'good friend' want to feel... to taste... every single inch of your body?"

Ink felt Error's hand intertwine with his own, fingers lacing together, and a fiery heat spread across his cheekbones, burning with an intensity that surprised even him. He stammered, his mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. "E-Error..."

Error grinned, a predatory, satisfied curve to his lips. He loved this. He adored seeing Ink so flustered, so utterly undone, that he didn't know how to react, what to say. It was a delightful chaos.

"Ink! Are you still up?"

Asriel's clear, high-pitched voice, utterly innocent yet startlingly intrusive, cut through the tension like a knife, shattering the intimate moment into a million fragments. Error, moving with impossible speed, shot off Ink's bed, glancing wildly around the room. In a blink, he darted towards a large, ornate wardrobe, opened the door, and slipped inside, pulling it shut with a soft click just as Ink's bedroom door swung open.

Ink, still disheveled and flushed, scrambled to sit up on the bed, his rapid breathing doing little to calm his racing heart. Asriel stood in the doorway, his youthful features etched with concern. He looked at Ink, his gaze pausing on the riot of colors on Ink's face and the rumpled state of his bed. "You alright?" the prince asked, his brow furrowed.

"I-I'm fine!" Ink replied, the words rushing out in a hasty, almost breathless torrent.

"Really? Your flushed." Asriel titled his head, observant. Ink, for once, cursed his unique physiology. Why couldn't he be like other monsters, whose blushes were a simple, uniform color? Why did his have to be a tell-tale rainbow of his inner turmoil?