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Failure is a bitter pill to swallow, and Victor never quite learned how to disregard its taste.
Setbacks are common in his profession, of course: the scientific method in itself revolves around failure and its nuances, because the gathering of observations and evidence is far more important than any scientist’s pride. Trial and error, doubt and discovery, even mayhem and destruction are just as powerful as an attentive study of the basics, like a carefully crafted anatomy model is to be held with the same regard as the decaying viscera in a diseased corpse.
And yet, when faced with the collapse of his life’s greatest work, ludicrously caused by the same man who had opened his coffers to see it true, there is no silver lining that Victor can find with his tired, sunken eyes; no great or small lesson to be learned, no anatomical drawings that he can share with the world, no notes on the intrinsic connection between the lymphatic system and electricity that could make him sound anything less than a crook. Even the photographs, as raw and vivid as they are even in their black-and-white simplicity, would serve him as nothing more than an amusing collection to be sold at the freak show exhibition, just another grotesque collection to be admired by adults and children alike for the modest price of a few pennies.
So a burning sadness overcomes Victor just as sleep does too, even soaked to the bone as he is, half-naked in front of the wooden angelic statue that saw him through his whole struggle. For the first time in a long while, he thinks about the sneer on his father’s face at his smallest hint of weakness, the sharp sting of his cane when he failed to provide a quick answer, his reluctant approval when Victor achieved feats that his peers could only imagine.
Then, Victor also sees his mother’s face, who instead loved him unconditionally for who he was, and an entirely different sort of anguish softens his heart right before oblivion.
***
The next day, covered with a sheet of crimson satin and with two wide eyes drinking him in, Victor’s disparaging fury scatters into the wind like a fistful of sand.
At the foot of the bed, his now living creature is lurking poorly in half-defined shadows, pale like elusive moonlight and making a string of small, breathy moans that sound simultaneously eager and terrified. Its head is still half-covered in bone-colored bandages, but its expression appears clear and attentive as it drinks its creator in, and it takes Victor an embarrassingly long time to realize that his creation is here, it’s alive, and it’s standing in front of him, following his every movement when he slides out of the bed and stares back at it with the same, contrasting need to flee and touch.
Its demeanor screams curiosity, yet its body movements reek of insecurity, and Victor tracks the twitches in its hands and torso with breathless interest as it shields itself away from him with the aid of the bed’s canopy. “A-Ah…” he then exhales breathlessly on a half-laugh as he moves his head side to side, watching his magnificent creation do the same, and a giddy smile slowly spreads on his face as he steps back a little bit to rapidly take off his crimson gloves, hoping to reassure it with the sight of his bare fingers.
“Same…” he then breathes out as his creation, flipping his hand to front and back and then watching it do the same, albeit with a lot less coordination. In the far back of his mind, Victor’s observational skills are already taking note of the creature’s uncoordinated gait, the different diameter of its pupils and the instinctive way in which it shudders away from contact, and each out-of-place detail is painting a picture that slowly fills him up with impending dread, that makes him realize that the faulty conducting rod may have, in fact, left behind a great deal of possibly irreparable damage-
Yet something else in Victor’s heart sings much, much louder as he goes to open his bedroom’s window, as he showers his creation with the kiss of the sunrise and then does his best to lure it to the light with soft, reassuring words. It’s a melody that warms him on the inside like a fever, an unknown malady that rips him of both sanity and reason, and there’s not a speckle of fear in him anymore as he slowly goes to reach for his creation’s head, as he reveals the contours of the face that he had so carefully sculpted.
And it’s there, at the sight of bewildered eyes and faint rust-colored tear tracks, that Victor’s soul is infused with a blinding beam of bottomless, irrational adoration. He finally sees his creation for what he is, not only a construct but a proper, real man, and the man that Victor just created is beautiful from the tip of his head to the nails of his toes, is more precious than any jewel or crown ever made in the world.
He is his, with all his flaws and all his virtues, and Victor realizes that his own life has a different meaning now.
“...Victor.” he declares then, gesturing towards himself with a breathless, delirious smile. “Victor…” he says one more time, smiling like a fool when he sees his creation mimic his movements, and then the smallest drop of hope lands like honey on his tongue when he hears his own name repeated in a halting, broken voice, confused like a child’s and filled with the same sort of wonder.
“Vic… tor…” his creation murmurs as he gestures to himself, and while Victor’s truly elated for that small show of basic intelligence, he also knows that it’s best not to create unnecessary confusion.
“Ah, no, it’s-” he tries once more with an awkward laugh, before gesturing to himself again. “Me, I am Victor.” he says patiently and with great care, observing how his creation blinks with puzzlement, before twisting his hands and placing them atop a smooth, cool chest. “And you…” he then adds with a lopsided, sardonic grin, because there’s truly only one oblivious choice to be made here. “Your name… is Adam.”
It doesn’t seem like his creation understands his own designation, or the great burden that it just bestowed upon him, yet Victor continues to smile blindingly at him all the same. He then puts his head on his creation’s bare chest, his own heart fluttering at the sound of another steady, strong beat, and something settles quietly in his mind when he feels two large arms come and wrap tentatively around him, a touch that consolidates several realizations and offers even more insight.
Because creation had always been his goal, but what will come after it might be an even greater accomplishment, and Victor is just about ready to see it through.
***
Despite his initial enthusiasm, the first few weeks after Adam’s awakening are rough, probably way more complicated than what Victor could have imagined if he had spent any time properly thinking about the consequences of his own actions. His creation is huge and clumsy, but also soft and fragile at the same time, scared and then endeared by every single new corner that he finds in the tower; he can’t manage to sit still too long and has poor control over his strength, although he shrinks immediately as soon as his steps make a stomp a tad too loud, and Victor feels himself twitch at each small but glaring miscalculation, at each item that either tumbles or shatters inevitably on the floor when Adam’s huge arms are swinging too far. A part of him wants to go up to the top of his tower and scream his frustration at the stars every night, but he refrains from doing so only because he’s using every single precious minute of peace that he has to sleep, and at times his fingers twitch with the need to grab the nearest object and hurl it at the creation’s head, as a heartfelt and unmistakable request to leave him alone for a bit-
And yet, even with all the frustration and the anger that he's feeling on a daily basis, Victor's iron-clad composure doesn’t slip even once. It’s like an immense spring of patience has sprouted overnight from the barren ground of his soul, a tolerance for tomfoolery that never filled his heart even in regard to animals or infants, but for some strange reason it’s extremely hard to stay annoyed for too long when Adam’s eyes light up in wonder at each new object that Victor presents to him for inspection, like it’s impossible to not be filled with pride whenever his creation demonstrates even the faintest trace of motor or intellectual development.
This new, providential attitude is a blessing that could come only from one place, the only part of him that had loved beyond comparison and reason, and Victor resolves to believe it so when he hears his mother’s call in his dreams during yet another bout of light sleep. It’s during that same night that the sky darkens malevolently for the first time since Adam’s awakening, bringing first a light rain and then a downpour that batters the flimsy glass of the tower rather insistently; to Victor, the sound is almost as soothing as the oldest known lullaby, and that’s probably why his rest had been so fresh and easy for once-
But the same cannot be said for poor, sweet Adam, who wakes him up with a terrified bout of loud whining and almost panicked breathing. Ever since his awakening, Victor has kept his creation as close to him as possible, a feat that meant also creating a rather cozy sleeping nook in one of the corners of his bedroom, and so far it seemed like Adam has been quite content to linger there while Victor attempts to catch some rest, before inevitably waking him up whenever he starts to get too antsy.
Tonight, however, the ruckus outside has clearly put him too much on edge, and so Victor comes back to awareness with his eyes glued half-shut and a deep, confused “Adam…?” that he calls out blindly just after a half hour’s rest. His voice, at first, seems to put an immediate stop to his creation’s whimpering, and Victor’s eyelids quickly grow heavy once again-
Until the mattress dips rather severely on one side, and then a hulking, lukewarm figure slides clumsily under the covers with him. The bedframe creaks ominously for a moment before quietening down, just like Victor’s momentary panic, because he certainly did not expect to have the large, imposing body of his creation come so close to him, especially when he’s just in a pair of threadbare sleeping pants and a half-transparent billowing shirt-
But then Adam snuggles even closer, enveloping his creator’s body within his arms, and the entire world slowly comes to a halt. “Vic-tor.” he declares with a small, pleading tone, like he somewhat knows this is not something he’s supposed to do, and once more all of Victor’s reservations fall away as he sighs and then goes to pet Adam absent-mindedly on the head, a gesture that his creation always seems to enjoy immensely.
“Shhh…” is the gentle, soothing sound that Victor makes as his palm slides towards Adam’s nape, caressing it with just a small dose of awkwardness. “It’s just a storm, nothing more.” he then whispers softly in the night, and his words do seem to calm down Adam somewhat, so Victor exhales deeply as he begins to distantly ponder what to do with the hair that’s now steadily growing out of his creation’s head, which is definitely better than focusing on their… improper closeness instead. At the start, Victor had carefully kept certain parts of Adam’s skull shaved, only to keep a close eye on the rate of his healing, but a rather distressing mishap with a razor had quickly put an end to his attempts at toileting, and now his mane has had free rein to grow without limitations. While the accident had given Victor precious insight into his creation’s regeneration abilities, the sight of the blade sliding so cleanly on Adam’s hand still haunts him in his dreams at times, so for the moment all sharp objects are kept as far as possible from his creation’s wandering hands, both for Adam’s safety and his creator’s peace of mind.
At least, it seems that Adam truly enjoys the attention that Victor can now pay to his hair, or maybe merely the sensation of having five fingers dig oh-so-gently in his scalp. “Vic-tor.” he murmurs happily as his forehead presses right against Victor’s shoulder, while the rest of his body curls like a shrimp around his maker’s figure, and Victor exhales loudly as he resigns himself to another sleepless night, the ones where he has nothing to do but try to steer his mind away from pointless catastrophizing.
Yet, like always, the doubts and the worries come back to him once again, and Victor finds himself floating in a sea of growing desperation as he observes Adam dozing peacefully next to him. Despite his improvements in mobility and awareness, Adam still has to show any sign of human intelligence and proper understanding, and Victor can’t help but wonder if his creation is ever going to be self-sufficient one day, if he will be able to have even a simple conversation with him at some point in the future. The idea of continuing this full-time care regimen is haunting, to say the least, and there are very few that Victor could trust with Adam’s well-being, but on the other hand there’s truly nothing that Victor would rather do, now that his life’s greatest achievement has been completed. The thought of returning to Edinburgh fills him with contempt, and there’s nothing in Switzerland waiting for him except a cold, empty manor, so for now Victor just presses a hand against his creation’s heart and vows to himself to continue in his efforts, so long as Adam keeps on saying his name with that sweet, naive fealty of his.
***
In the end, Victor’s fears are revealed to be unfounded, and an abrupt development comes just after Adam has been forced into yet another makeshift bath. The bathtub that Victor uses for himself is far too small, so one of the largest wooden caskets from the lab has been repurposed to accommodate his creation’s huge frame, and Victor would be more sore about the whole thing if Adam hadn’t recently started to help him transport the hot water from the kitchen to the bedroom, which doubles down as a great opportunity to test his creation’s impressive strength and watch out for any possible problems with the stitching of his tendons.
On top of that, water seems to be one of the things that fascinate Adam the most, so it’s easy enough to lure him into the tub and make him sit still for a while. The discovery has been a godsend for Viktor’s sanity, because now he knows that if he has to keep his creation occupied, there’s nothing that works quite as well as a large basin with some lightweight objects in it, be it a bunch of leaves or some pieces of wood that Adam can watch float around aimlessly.
For now, the soap bubbles that are gathering on the surface seem to be entertaining enough, so Victor does his best to scrub his creation from top to bottom while his attention is elsewhere. He already has plenty of towels set aside and Adam’s still unique set of clothing, which he has been forced to re-wear again and again due to lack of a spare, but at least the lack of sweat means that the garments have been staying clean for the most part, and by now Victor knows how to take a victory when he’s handed one for free.
“Vic-tor…” babbles Adam happily as his creator does his best to wash his short hair, a task that’s made more difficult by the way his head is suddenly swaying back and forth, and Victor keeps a tired sigh to himself as he goes to lather his hands with soap once more.
“Yes, what is it?” he replies to show to his creation that he’s listening, even if nothing of note is going to come out of that mouth except for the constant repetition of his name; the comeback is already integrated into him, at this point, so it’s easy to remain concentrated on his task while keeping only half an ear towards the familiar ramblings.
“Vic-tor…” is the predictable sequel, and Victor hums disinterestedly as he goes to work the soap into Adam’s short and thin hair. “Wa… ter?” his creation then wonders aloud, with a clear question in his intonation, but it takes Victor a handful of seconds to realize what he just heard.
“Mhhh, yes, wa… water…?” he stammers, for a moment, as his eyes grow as wide as dinner plates and his heart almost shatters under the weight of his excitement. “Oh yes, yes! Water! That’s exactly right!” he cries out in pure elation, jumping up from his stool to run around the tub and look at his creation’s placid expression, before another realization punches him right in the guts: the fact that he hasn’t told Adam what water is in a while, at least in a couple of days, and his mouth hangs open in wordless wonder. “You… you are not just repeating, you… you remembered it…?”
Even more incredibly, Adam seems to grow extremely pleased by Victor’s amazement, at least judging by the pronounced curl of his lips. “Vic-tor, wa-ter.” he says once again, this time with more confidence, aiming a twitching smile towards the face of his creator-
And Victor feels his throat tighten up to the point of tears, both with immeasurable pride and another, murkier sentiment that he does not dare name yet.
From there, Adam’s brain development seems to undergo a much-needed acceleration: in merely a week, he’s able to remember several words, including his own name and the objects that he’s always been the most interested in: water, leaf, wood, apple, berry, and a handful more words that Victor can’t help but smile at every time, repeating them even to himself in wordless fascination with the same, halting cadence used by his creation. He makes a point to shower Adam with praise for his every achievement, to coddle him and to participate in his joy whenever he grasps a new term or he correctly interprets what Victor is saying to him, and his encouragement only seems to hasten the entire process even more. They will soon need to move on to the alphabet and some basic notions of reading, something that Victor is quite dreading since he’s far from being the most skilled teacher, but for a while it’s enough to just sit on a chair and contemplate the latest development of his greatest victory, to watch Adam hold multiple objects to his face and repeat the name of each one of them first to himself and then, with a giddy smile, to his maker.
“Vic-tor, fea-ther.” is the latest, proud discovery of his creation, and Victor almost laughs aloud at the sight of the small, half-wet quill that it’s dangling from between his fingertips.
“Yes, correct, that's a very good boy. That’s quite a hard one.” he comments airily, and the tone of his words must do the trick, because Adam is all smiles as he turns back to his filled catin, tipping the feather in and out of the water while quietly mumbling to himself. It’s a beautiful day outside, with a column of sunshine pouring in from the laboratory’s windows, and for a while Victor is unable to look away from Adam and concentrate again on his notes, too caught up in the lively movements of his hands and the persistent half-smile carved on his pale lips.
The moment feels dangerous, for some reason, like walking straight on a razor’s edge, but there’s nothing hanging in the air except for the song of the birds perched atop the tower, so Victor lets himself relax and pushes away his worries for a while.
***
Of course, the quiet can never last for too long, and Victor is harshly reminded of the world outside his little tower the day it comes knocking again at his door.
“Is my uncle here?” is the first thing that Elizabeth asks, once Victor has greeted her and William with a smile and a considerable amount of enthusiasm; under his giddy grin, Victor is privately worried about how this unexpected arrival will be received by Adam, who has yet to see an alive human being beside the one who created him, and so his first instinct is to lie and say that his late benefactor is away from the tower for a while, even if deep down he knows that doing so will only make matters more complicated afterward.
“...Why don’t you come upstairs, for starters?” is what he settles for instead, trying to keep the excitement alive on his face, but both his brother and his betrothed don’t seem too fooled by his almost manic disposition, although they do end up reluctantly following Victor’s heartfelt request.
Still, there’s a lingering amount of positive trepidation that fills the laboratory once Victor guides his guests into it, slowly pulling his brother by the arm while Elizabeth follows a little bit behind due to the impractical bulk of her clothes. The light-filled corner where Adam is still playing by himself is shielded away by folding screens, so William doesn’t immediately register what Victor wants to show to him, but then his whole body becomes as rigid as a statue when they both come closer the window and the hulking figure beside, so Victor quickly leaves him behind to approach his mellow creation instead.
At first, his nerves almost get the best of him, but then Victor’s lungs fill with a deep breath as he tempers down his smile to something more contained. “Adam.” he calls out as he goes to grasp his creation’s wrists, firmly but with plenty of tenderness, and Adam’s dark eyes are quick to leave behind his simple game to seek him instead. “There’s someone here, who I want you to meet.” Victor then enunciates very, very carefully, pulling his creation along until it stands up from his stool, and Adam follows him willingly enough until he also realizes that there’s someone else in the room with them, and all of a sudden his whole demeanor goes from pliant to guarded and unsure.
Before Victor can say anything at all to reassure either his creation or his still-frozen brother, the light steps that announce Elizabeth’s arrival echo loudly in the foyer before halting, as expected, at the entrance of the laboratory. If Victor was less engaged in controlling his current predicament, he would have surely loved to gaze upon the holder of his heart and soak in her predictable amazement, but instead all that he can do is just throw a quick, fleeting glance at Elizabeth’s face before he’s forced to step in between her and his creation, one that doesn’t give any insight into her mood except for a strange, unexplainable sensation of doom in the middle of his chest.
“Now, please keep your distance for a minute! He never had contact with anyone except myself.” he calls out when he hears a string of steps approaching rather rapidly, and at least William takes his words to heart by taking a huge leap backwards, his expression transitioning quickly back and forth between horror and amazement as he drinks in Adam’s patchwork face and too-tight clothes.
“You did it… You did it…” is what his brother ultimately manages to utter, and Victor tunes out his presence briefly to put a hand on Adam’s chest and look at his face with naked, wordless pride; despite his previous apprehension, it seems that his creation has now reverted to the placid state from before, probably soothed by Victor’s proximity and composed behaviour, so it’s easy to allow him to take a step forward when he feels inclined to do so. As he carefully comes closer to the speechless couple near them, Adam’s attentive eyes linger on William’s hair for a moment but then quickly move on, perhaps not really captivated by someone that looks so similar to his creator, but Elizabeth clearly piques his curiosity in a way that all new things have done before, likely due to her billowing dress and the bonnet wrapped so tightly around her head. His head tilted sideways playfully a couple of times, inspecting the unfamiliar clothes for a while before turning his curious eyes again on Victor, who in turn smiles up at him before turning his head and taking in fully both of his guests’ reactions-
Only for his blood to freeze right into his veins at the adoring, alarming expression that’s sculpted so vividly on Elizabeth’s face.
Now that Victor can truly, fully see her, there’s a bell of alarm that starts to ring incessantly in his head and doesn’t seem inclined to stop, while a strange and gaping chasm is opening up gradually and inexorably inside his chest. Once upon a time, those lingering wide eyes and parted mouth would have filled him with pride, Elizabeth’s stunned delight at the sight of his greatest achievement more powerful than opium or lithium, but instead all that Victor feels now is a sense of panic at the way her irises are drinking Adam’s flawless features in, like the man that has been presented to her is far more godly than the one who made him from nothing but pieces of cadavers and unparalleled wit.
Yet maybe, what is even more distressing for Victor is to realize that he suddenly wants Elizabeth to leave, to banish her from his gaze just like he longed for his father’s disappearance each time he came trampling on his and his mother’s serenity. It’s an ugly, shapeless instinct that makes him grit his teeth and gather bile under his tongue, that lights up a fire of jealousy that he thought was long buried and forgotten, but the ash-hidden embers in his heart are difficult to smother when one of Adam’s hands rises up instinctively towards the lone woman in the room, and Elizabeth is quick to move and indulge in his wordless invitation.
There’s no logical reason to step in between again, especially since Adam is being his usual inquisitive self, yet Victor still presses his hand firmly on his creation’s chest, hard enough for his fingertips to leave an indent in the smooth surface of his pectorals. Adam, fortunately, does not put up any protest and is content to be held back, although Victor can feel his puzzled gaze on the side of his face, yet there’s no option to apply a similar deterrent to Elizabeth’s advance, and soon enough the tips of her gloved fingers come in contact with Adam’s bare ones.
“A-Ah…” Adam then exhales haltingly, twisting his head to the side to examine the hand offered to him more thoughtfully. “Vic-tor… Glo-ve.” he then declares simply, as Elizabeth’s palm twists to face upwards, and Victor swears that someone must be stabbing him at the mouth of his stomach when his creation’s fingers carefully slide the garment off from Elizabeth’s fingers, who in turn continues to stare at Adam in complete, utter enthrallment.
“Yes, darling, that’s right.” Victor replies absent-mindedly, while he’s using all of his willpower to not double over in pain or start screaming like a madman, so the term of endearment and his brother’s answering look of alarm barely register in his brain. There’s only enough wit left in him to remove his hand from Adam’s chest and present it to him instead, a silent order that couldn’t be misinterpreted in any way, and some of Victor’s unnatural fright dissipates when Adam complies with his request and diligently deposits Elizabeth’s glove in his waiting palm, as if he was waiting precisely for Victor to instruct him so.
At that moment, Elizabeth tears his eyes away from Adam’s face to stare straight into Victor’s soul, and a bolt of invisible lightning passes through both of them like a grievous, silent conversation. Their mutual displeasure is now written clearly in every line of their faces, plain as the blinding daylight that’s engulfing their figures and the laboratory, and Victor tilts his chin back fiercely as he thrusts the glove back at her, only for Elizabeth’s eyes to fill up with dangerous contempt when she gingerly takes it back.
Unbeknownst to the other two people in the room, a war has just been declared, although neither its motivation nor its prize have been spoken aloud or put down on paper. Still, Victor knows that he will triumph, just like he has always done until now, and his resolve settles even further in his heart when he looks up to Adam’s placid and trusting gaze, which never seems inclined to stray away from him for too long.
***
That same evening, Victor brings William to the bowel of the tower, to show him what remains of Heinrich Harlander and make his first move towards victory.
“He slipped down the chute as we were making our preparations during the storm.” is his first, true confession, which resonates much too loudly against the icy walls of the makeshift mortuary. William’s eyes are huge and somber as they take in the arms dealer’s body, the unnatural pallor of his skin and the hollow shape of his shattered skull, and Victor knows that his brother is smart enough to deduce what he wants him to see, to take note of the unmistakable spots and crusts on Harlander’s scalp.
“These marks…” mutters William as he takes an even closer step in, bending forward to observe his late uncle-in-law’s skin, and Victor makes himself sigh heavily in turn.
“Syphilis, yes. I discovered it only after the fall.” he then begins to twist the truth around, bending it just enough to cast himself in a better light. “Judging by the state of them, it must have been in quite an advanced stage. Perhaps he lost his senses briefly up there, and with the heavy rain and the slippery floor…” he continues before elapsing in a brief, heavy pause, letting William imagine the scene clearly in his mind, and his efforts are rewarded when his brother pulls away from the body with a tight frown between his eyebrows.
“Oh, good Lord…” William then mutters as he goes to face the mortuary’s door, the delicate flower of his bleeding heart tuned as always towards the light of his wife-to-be. “...Elizabeth will be devastated.”
And it’s right there, at that anticipated comment, that Victor takes the occasion to press his own agenda further. “Most surely, but… I also believe that she will want him to have his proper rites.” is his warm, heartfelt suggestion, which would usually sound ridiculous on his God-defying tongue, but now just comes across as genuine concern. “I think you need to call a carriage as soon as possible, and see that he is properly laid to rest. I would assist you, if I could, but Adam…” he then trails off with a pained expression, to which his brother immediately shakes his head with sympathy.
“No, of course, I understand.” comes the easy, earnest concession, and Victor’s hidden satisfaction only grows at William’s next affirmation. “We will depart come morning, and arrange everything as discreetly as possible.”
“I will make my excuses to Elizabeth privately, later.” Victor is careful to assure, although he sincerely hopes to see as little of his brother’s betrothed as possible in the coming weeks, before biting the side of his tongue and deciding to take one last, calculated risk. “And, William…” he adds as he sees his brother starting to turn and leave, keeping his expression carefully neutral in front of that face so similar to his. “...Do you reckon the discussion of your marriage should be brought up again soon, perhaps during the funeral?” comes then his quiet, almost shy suggestion, accompanied by an inclination of his head and a couple of slow, reassuring blinks. “I suspect that, with her unofficial chaperone now gone, Elizabeth’s family will soon want to… seal the deal properly?”
For a moment, it seems like Victor’s silent spell might fail, as William regards him with something akin to stone-cold suspicion; in truth, a part of Victor has always wondered if his brother knew about his private obsession, if he had any idea of how unashamedly he had burned for his betrothed, but in the end the question remains unanswered when William tears his gaze away from him, his expression quickly defrosting with a small, strange sigh of defeat. “....Yes. That is… very likely to happen.” is his free and somewhat bitter admission, which quickly turns to a strange sort of private amusement once he stares again into his brother’s eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me, even in your… complex situation.”
For a moment, the teasing tilt of William’s words does nothing but confuse Victor, and he wonders what he must have done to elicit such a reaction. “Oh… yes, of course. No need to mention it.” he eventually manages to reply, brushing aside his own puzzlement to stay in character, but the memory of William’s knowing eyes continues to follow him even as they both make their way back inside the tower, even when they depart on the middle floor with their goodnights to head, in silent introspection, to their respective bedrooms-
However, whatever bafflement that Victor was still feeling is erased in an instant when he approaches the door of his room, and finds it slightly ajar. He is sure that he closed it firmly after himself when he left, and that Adam now has enough wits to understand that he has to stay put in whatever room Victor leaves him while his creator is gone, so his heart suddenly turns as heavy as lead as his hand goes to reach for the handle with a firm yet gentle grip, to inch the shutter open just a little bit further-
And in his own sanctuary, just like he had feared, Victor spies Elizabeth and Adam sitting on the Persian rug in the middle of the room, closer than decency and modesty would allow but at least with a full arm’s length in between them. Elizabeth is clad in nothing but a transparent teal blue nightgown, with her slim ankles and the red bottoms of her feet exposed for the world to see, while Adam, for his part, has his knees drawn up to his chin and is watching, with morbid fascination, as Elizabeth holds up one of his dried maple leaves to the light of a candle, casting long shadows across the length of the room that look just like the teeth of a giant, hungry beast.
And Victor feels much like a monster himself as he barges violently into the room, only to freeze when two inquiring pairs of bright, innocent eyes turn to look straight at him. All of a sudden, the rage within him fails to find something to grip and shred, because nothing in the scene in front of him is truly worthy of such a reaction-
Yet, despite the reassurances fed to him by his rationality, his emotions still get the better of him, and so his spine straightens up harshly as he casts a cold, disapproving glare towards his brother’s intended.
“...Elizabeth.” he calls out after a brief, uncomfortable pause. “A word, if you please?”
As remote as the statue of a detached Madonna, Elizabeth pauses for a long moment before rising up to her feet, leaf and candelabra still held tightly in her hand. She turns around to aim a small, delicate smile at Adam’s still-crouched figure before following Victor out of the room, her long copper hair swinging like a pendulum as she walks, and her half-bare arms are covered with goosebumps all over after Victor closes the door behind them both, so that they can stand near the railway of the spiraling stairway in a strange and enraged silence.
“...Your intended has some important news to share with you.” is what Victor settles on after a pregnant pause, all business-like and indifferent even in the face of Elizabeth’s much-too-close scrutiny. “I suggest that you seek him out swiftly-”
“What news?” Elizabeth bites back, quick and sharp like the mouth of a puppy, and Victor barely refrains from sneering back.
“I would rather have you hear it from him.” he deflects her curtly, unwilling to be the one to break under the pressure, but his temper rises again when Elizabeth's eyes start to regard him with something that almost resembles… pity. “...What is it?” he cracks in the end, wondering what she’s seeing on his face, what uncomfortable truths she has overheard in the depths of her untypical sensitivity-
And honesty is exactly what Victor gets for his nosiness, a jagged blade that sinks into his guts and soul when Elizabeth releases her inner voice. “It is so unbearably amusing and cruel at the same time, is it not?” she inquires at first, in that acrid and rhetorical way of hers that Victor had always admired, even when it was directed at him; yet now, with the weight of Adam’s soul in his palms, Victor is finding out that he’s much less inclined to be receptive to constructive criticism, and even less to torturous revelations that might break him into two. “That we both found true companionship in the same person, that we relinquished our hearts so easily to him-”
“Relinquished?” is the involuntary, appalled word that emerges first from his lips, and before he knows it Victor finds himself advancing menacingly towards Elizabeth’s figure, too incensed to properly grasp the full implication of her words but sharp enough to taste the injustice in them. “Oh, no no no, you cannot surrender anything! You spurned me, denied me, said that you had chosen-” he cries out next, uncaring of the fact that William might catch his confession, or that Adam could hear him raise his voice for the first time ever. “And now that I have made my choice as well, you come to taunt me with it?”
“Is that what this is, then? A choice?” Elizabeth shoots back, suddenly just as livid, and her next words are somewhat even more hurtful than the ones that came before. “Not a chain that you would use as a whip, should the occasion arise?”
Suddenly speechless, Victor finds himself just gaping for a moment, mind reeling from the image that has been painted so suddenly and vividly into it: himself as the jailer of his own creation, a ruthless maker that would lash upon him at the briefest inconvenience, a God just as unfeeling as the one above their heads. “...Do you truly think so lowly of me?” he manages to utter at last, wondering if his prideful attitude was always coming across as disguised inhumanity. “Did I ever give you proper reason to despise me so?” he then wonders next, almost as a desperate plea, and Elizabeth is suddenly taken sback by his naked distress.
“I…” she says before pausing for a moment, eyebrows furrowing into what almost looks like a guilty expression. “Well… perhaps not. I merely thought-”
“What? That I would detest him? That I would be cruel to him?” Victor then urges her, and suddenly he’s every inch as fiery as his mother could be at times, as dark and unapologetic as Night herself. “My own creation, my own dream, born from my hands and sweat and tears?!” he thunders with righteous indignation, because deep down he’s well aware that the temptation had been there, the cold grip of his father’s specter wrapping around his neck like a leash, but Victor also knows that he has done everything in his power to escape such a sentence, that he will strive to be better than him even in this particular regard-
“And what is coveting, if not another sort of cruelty?” is Elizabeth’s plain rebuttal, another accusation that lodges itself in Victor’s throat and prevents him from breathing. “You molded him, that is true, but do you also give him the air in his lungs? The light in his eyes? The wants in his soul?” she doubles down next, tilting her head back to give him a long, contemptuous look, and once upon a time Victor would have moved seas and mountains to obtain her forgiveness, would have spent days pondering about all the ways in which he had displeased her-
But Adam is a gem of unparalleled beauty that sparkles in his mind, casting multi-colored rays of light where there had been only shadows before, and Victor will never let anyone else bask unfettered in his brilliance.
“I give him anything he wants. Always did, always will.” he growls out, then, as an unknown gluttony unfurls his tendons within his ribcage, stronger than any sin he has ever indulged in during his life; it’s as if there are leathery wings sprouting off his back, twisting his kindness into a fitting mold of darkness, and his voice is freezing when Victor goes to stake his claim at last, made strong by the memory of Adam’s figure sleeping so peacefully by his side. “And, in the future… he will not forget my kindness.”
Elizabeth, on her part, doesn’t appear too impressed with Victor’s confidence, and her smile turns almost mocking as she accepts his unspoken challenge. “...We will see, Baron.” she declares as she turns to walk away, still barefoot on the house’s rotting wooden floors, and Victor bites the inside of his cheek harshly before he makes his way into his own bedroom again, the door slamming harshly after him while he stares, almost unseeingly, at the sculpture of the avenging angel that’s still lurking in a dusty corner.
Then, like a vision of safety and reverence, Adam walks into Victor’s sight and replaces the statue entirely, magnetizing his creator’s attention with the unsure, almost worried look in his eyes. With a great deal of distress, Victor realizes that he was unable to shield his dear creation from his wrath, that the most unsightly part of him has finally been uncovered, and for the first time in Adam’s presence Victor’s temper twists on itself like a serpent, until it bares its fangs at the most undeserving target.
“Vic-tor…?” inquires then Adam, as he takes a wobbling step forward, and Victor licks his lips once before he finds the strength to respond.
“...Yes.” he exhales shakily and nonsensically, feeling as hazardous as a loaded gun, but of course his creation has no reason to think that he is in any peril.
“Vic-tor-” Adam calls out again, still so worried and trusting, taking two more steps until his hand hovers right above his maker’s shoulder-
And that’s when Victor, at last, explodes.
“No!” is the scream that emerges from his lips, hurt and enraged at Elizabeth, at Adam, at the whole goddamn world and himself as well. “No, stay back! Do not touch me!” he barks as he pulls back and twists his whole body away, his teeth bared in a mindless attempt at self-preservation, and his wrath burns a hole through him like a scorching, unstoppable blaze, leaving nothing but charred remains in its wake.
It takes a while, for his breathing to slow down again and for his vision to sharpen once more, and afterward all that meets Victor on the other side of his outburst is a distant, bitter taste of profound regret. He has just proven exactly what Elizabeth had implied in her speech, that he’s just made from the same cloth as his blasted father, that Adam should be led as far away as possible from his reach and influence-
But Adam’s feet are still lingering in front of him, bare just like Elizabeth’s were, peeking from the edge of his frayed pants like an unspoken, blurred secret. All of a sudden, Victor remembers the day when he had stitched his toes back together, when he had cut the delicate whiteness of his tendons with surgical precision, and a dark shiver licks up his spine as his eyes rise again once more, expecting to find either rage, mistrust, or disgust in front of him-
Instead, all that Victor sees are those same, slightly mismatched eyes, blessed with just a hint of gold from the candles lit around the room. For some unfathomable reason, Adam is not cowering in the slightest after Victor’s outburst, but instead his hand is still hovering in the air exactly where it was before, close enough to touch but still suspended as a wordless question.
“I-I…” babbles Victor then, taken wrong-footed for the best reasons, as he tries to understand what to say in this unexpected situation and how to, if possible, make amends. “Ah, I… I’m sorry, Adam, I swear, I just…” he continues to stammer, lost completely in the pure tranquility on his creation’s face, and something in him is shattered when Adam’s expression relaxes even further, into something that truly resembles understanding.
“Vic-tor.” is all that his creation says, before his hand makes contact with Victor shoulder and oh, the touch is just as sweet and addicting as cherry wine, a cleansing warmth that pours down on him from a greater high.
“Yes, yes, I-” says Victor back, somewhat incoherently, and his thoughts only stutter further when that same hand wraps carefully on the back of his neck to pull him forward, steady and fresh like the gentlest of summer breezes. “O-oh…” he exhales then, once his face makes contact with the threadbare surface of Adam’s shirt, and instantly all of his senses focus only and exclusively on the soothing, perfect melody of his creation’s heart, that rhythm of life that never fails to put him at ease even in the hardest of nights.
Then, Adam’s other arm wraps tightly around his back, unyielding as if it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, and Victor is led adrift to a different, simpler reality.
“Vic-tor.” Adam repeats after a while, perhaps a few minutes or some centuries later, once all of Victor’s muscles have gone soft and his body is nothing but liquid metal. “No… sad.” comes next the simple, impossible request, said with the candor of the most innocent, and Victor bites on his lower lip to distract himself from the wetness that’s suddenly accumulating on his bottom eyelids.
“Hah…” he exhales somewhat shakily, with a small and bitter laugh. “So you would rather withstand my fury, than my sorrow?” he can’t help but ask, wondering if the Almighty also felt this bittersweet after he created the first man, if He too had worried that He made something far more perfect than Himself.
“Mhhh…” is all that Adam hums in response, a vibration that burrows itself as deeply as it can in Victor’s very bones. “…Victor.” he murmurs afterward, for the first time ever as a full word and not two separate, distinct syllables-
And Victor also feels like he has been made whole once again.
***
After Heinrich Harlander finds his eternal rest within the earth, and William and Elizabeth’s marriage date has been announced for the next summer, winter creeps in with freezing brutality to Victor and Adam’s small corner of the Alps.
When the weather turns grey and heavy like a mantle, and the fog rolls in from the surface of the lake each morning and evening, Victor decides to take the low visibility conditions as an opportunity to do something he’s been meaning to do for a long time: introduce Adam to the world outside. Now that his creation’s wardrobe has expanded a bit, courtesy of William’s goodwill and a shipment of comfortable second-hand clothes, it’s a relief to see Adam finally wear a sturdy pair of proper fitting shoes and a luxurious, thick fur-lined coat, together with several types of knitted sweaters and loose shirts in different patterns and fabrics; from simple white cotton and linen to the occasional silken garment in brighter colors, which make his large shoulders even more pronounced and leave his creator strangely out of breath, Victor is so glad that Adam has at last a proper selection of attire to choose from, although he does not seem to truly care much about what he’s wearing except for how much it can keep him warm.
Regardless of how his creation feels towards the complex world of fashion, it’s undisputed that it’s easier to thread into the wondrous landscape of frost-covered fields with pants that cover down to the ankles, and Victor thinks that he never knew true joy until he saw the rapt look on Adam’s face as he touched a frozen blade of grass for the first time, when he witnessed his utter fascination with the endless loop of small waves that crash down on the lake’s shore whenever the wind picks up enough strength.
Their first snowfall together is another, unrepeatable experience, full of large smiles and speechless incredulity, and Victor knows he will treasure that indescribable memory in his heart forever.
Regrettably, even with the icy conditions on the road and the impending preparations for the wedding, it appears that Elizabeth and William are still willing to make the trip to Vaduz as often as possible. Of course, Victor has no qualms about making space for his brother’s presence, even if he continues to be utterly terrified of Adam in a way that’s most disquieting, yet Elizabeth’s approach towards Victor’s creation continues to exist in the complete opposite sphere as her betrothed, with plenty of fascination to spare on both of their behalf; her attitude makes Victor disquieted and moody, especially since William seems to be completely oblivious to his future wife’s morbid fascination, but at least Adam never becomes the convenient outlet for his frustrations again, even when Victor catches him observing Elizabeth with long, calculating looks that he doesn’t quite know how to interpret.
The situation is only made more difficult by the fact that Elizabeth is insistent on teaching Adam how to read, and that Victor is really in a position where he can refuse her help. His own method of study is wholly unsuitable for such a basic level of learning, and his extensive scientific texts are also a poor match for a beginner scholar, so in the end his pride has to cave in and allow for Elizabeth to cross the doors of his towers with a suitcase full of children’s stories and fairy tales, all stacked together with silly alphabet cards and a satisfied smile that rubs him off in all the worst ways.
Of course, Victor is careful to never leave Elizabeth and Victor alone, and insists for all of their lessons to be carried out either in his study or laboratory. He sends William around or out of the tower for any possible errand, much to his brother’s mild annoyance, but a drop of disapproval is easy to swallow when Adam searches for either Victor’s support or approval during his studies, when he wants him to sit close by as he attempts to recite his first poem.
But the best moments are when Adam slithers into Victor’s bed at night and insists for him to read his books out loud, even if they are thick tomes full of medical terms that he can’t possibly understand. They have started to sleep together every evening at this point, because the tower is downright frigid when the sun sets and there's no better way to stay warm, but Victor can’t deny that there’s a dark, perverse sense of superiority in having Adam’s legs intertwined with his, in falling asleep against the solid curve of his back while wondering what Elizabeth would have to say about that.
However, there is one thing that Victor takes charge of when it comes to his creation’s education, after Adam starts to show a better understanding of written English: the complete study of the human body’s anatomy. They have already briefly touched the topic, at times, especially when his creation was enthralled by his own reflection in mirrors, but now Victor can finally use more detailed references to further Adam’s understanding of his own figure, of what it had taken to give him life from where there was nothing but wasted potential.
But first, there are more… basic matters to touch upon.
“So, you know that Elizabeth is… different, from me and William, yes?” is what Victor declares one afternoon, some days before Christmastime, when his brother and intended are visiting the latter’s family and it’s just him and Adam in the tower. The quiet atmosphere of their residence has put him at ease in the last few days, and the white blanket of snow outside is the perfect backdrop for some intimate conversations, but there’s still a certain kind of awkwardness swimming in his guts when he thinks about debating anything related to Elizabeth with his creation, even if it is the easiest way to approach this particular debate.
“Mh-mhhh.” replies Adam, absent-mindedly and with his head bent down, from the chair in Victor’s laboratory where he has been sitting for a while: around them, the evening light is casting long bronze-colored reflections on the perpetually messy tables and shelves, which then taper into the most gorgeous shades of orange, and even the fury on the face of Medusa seems to have softened in the cozy and private atmosphere, her empty eyes the only witnesses to the upcoming exchange. “You and William are… brothers.” comes then the sudden follow-up, utterly disarming in its simplicity, and Victor feels the tension in his shoulder loosening a fraction as he barely covers his laughter with a cough.
“Yes, yes, that is true, but… there are also other ways, in which she differs from us.” he explains patiently as Adam continues to fold a piece of paper on itself over and over again, one of the latest repetitive behaviours that he has adopted to help himself concentrate. “...Can you think of anything else?” Victor then presses gently, knowing Adam will give him a response in his own time, and his smile twists up at the corners when his creation raises his head and regards his words with a low, deep rumble.
“Her hair is… red.” Adam enunciates very carefully, raising a hand to touch his own shoulder-length locks, before blinking and twisting his head to the side like he often does when deeply in thought. “And, she has…” he continues as he gestures towards his own chest instead, tracing an invisible sphere-shaped object that is impossible to misinterpret, and Victor brightens up even more at his creation’s deduction.
“She has breasts, yes, that is how they are called.” he elucidates quickly but with warm approval, which in turn fills his creation’s eyes with quiet pride, and then Adam blinks slowly as Victor comes closer to deposit a stack of anatomy drawings on the desk, sliding them carefully in his direction between high piles of leather-bound volumes. “They are, indeed, one of the things that set Elizabeth’s body apart from mine, yours, or William’s.” Victor then adds as he separates the first two papers, revealing their partly-decorticated figures in full, and Adam’s irises suddenly lit up in understanding.
“Oh, is she… a woman?” is the amazed, almost elated comment that emerges from his lips, as the shaky tips of his fingers abandon his folded paper to receive Victor’s illustrations instead: it’s always astonishing how carefully Adam handles the items that Victor gives to him, as if each of them is a gift of the highest importance, and Victor feels a surge of deep satisfaction warm his guts as his creation traces dutifully the contours of the female drawing. “Like Eve, in the Bible?” comes then his next, hushed question, delivered with a certain reverence within the first woman’s name, and Victor’s happiness quickly sours as he nods somberly.
“Exactly, that is correct.” he replies as steadily as he can, doing whatever possible to mask his brewing discontent; of course, he knows very well that Elizabeth has been steadily introducing Adam to the Bible’s doctrine, and that it was inevitable that the blasted book would be cited in conversation at one point or another, but the idea to steep Adam’s still highly impressionable brain in outlandish tales of creation, punishment, and godly retribution still doesn’t sit well within his creator. “...What else do you remember, of that book?” Victor finds himself asking regardless, wondering which one of Elizabeth’s teachings had stuck the most, and Adam hums again as he continues to observe the drawing in front of him.
“That Eve… came from Adam’s rib.” he replies haltingly, as he often does nowadays when trying to remember the plot of his more voluminous, complicated books. “That they ate a fruit together, that they left their garden, and that she bore two brothers.” he then recites more easily and almost cheerfully, as if those had been his favourite parts of the whole story, and Victor is simultaneously amazed and slightly concerned by his choices.
Regardless, Adam’s fixation on one specific part of the Genesis does help Victor with his mission. “And, that last event… do you know the reason why that happened?” he tries to inquire gently, wondering if perhaps Adam already has a deeper understanding of the teaching that Victor wants to impart to him, but all that he gets for his trouble is one blank, curious stare.
“Mhhh… no.” replies Adam honestly, before aiming a small, twitching smile at his creator, and Victor exhales a small sigh of relief in turn; in retrospect, perhaps Adam had just been amused by the mention of siblings altogether, since the fairy tales that he likes the most are always the ones revolving around families, so Victor walks even closer to him until they are standing side by side.
“Well, Eve did indeed give birth to two sons, and that is because a woman’s body possesses parts that a man does not.” he instructs Adam slowly, pointing at the exposed innards of the female’s lower body, before reaching out in his pocket and revealing something utterly precious to him. “She has… this.”
At the sight of Victor’s small porcelain model, the same one that he had used during his studies in his youth, Adam’s eyes instantly grow dark and sharp with interest. “Oh…” he exhales as he instinctively reaches for the sculpture, only for Victor to make a sharp, warning noise in the back of his throat, and his hand immediately falls down again on the table at the admonishment.
“Careful, it is very fragile.” Victor then tells him patiently as he lowers the figurine as well, removing the thin layer of porcelain that represents its chest muscles, and Adam’s fingers obediently come to a halt right next to his. “This is the inside of a woman’s abdomen.” he continues at the reveal of the smallest, most intricate parts of the model, the small lumps of the lungs and the bare, almost shameful sphere of its fetus. “After a couple lays together, a man’s seed will fertilize one of her ovaries. From there, overtime…” he says as he carefully reassembles the statue, delicately lowering its mobile arm until it rests again on its chest. “A fetus will grow, and the woman’s womb will swell.”
For a long, pensive moment, Adam continues to stare at the model in transfixed wonder, before one of his phalanges twitches with the wordless need to touch, to caress, to truly understand; this time, Victor does not stifle his curiosity, but he still keeps a careful watch as Adam strokes the smooth surface of the woman’s belly over and over again with tenderness, not even hard enough to dislodge the surface piece from its position. “That is how… a new human, is made?” his creation then wonders aloud, with timid understanding, and Victor nods his head at his question.
“Correct.” he replies simply as he waits for more queries, watching Adam’s face closely for any further reaction-
But nothing can prepare him for the sharp stab of his creation’s next words.
“But I…” murmurs Adam shyly, before dragging his dark, searching gaze towards Victor again while he points towards the figurine’s belly. “I did not come from… there… right?”
All at once, the world sways and tilts on itself, so harshly that Victor almost fears he will collapse down on the floor like a stringless, useless marionette. Right afterward, his stomach rolls and his tongue covers up with bitter bile, the unfamiliar taste of panic and regret equally sour and overwhelming, and Victor gasps sharply as he tries to adjust his view of reality as fast as he can, as he comes to terms with the fact that Adam now is aware enough to realize the most sorrowful and rough reality of his existence.
“Ah, n-no, you… You did not.” replies Victor at last, after what feels like a small eternity, above the distant sound of his ears ringing. “You were born in a different way, and you… are the first of your kind.” he tries to bargain next, to temper the ugly factuality of his responsibilities with grand, pointless achievements-
But they all fall deaf on his creation’s ears, as they should, because to Adam his existence is not a miracle in the slightest; it simply is. “So, I am… different? From you?” comes his next, predictable question, delivered with just a touch of sadness-
And it’s then that Victor abandons all pretenses and goes down on one knee, to erase those few inches of advantage that he has on his creation and make himself look as harmless as possible. “The matter of conception was, yes, but you… You are as human as any other man.” he declares then, with a tone just a tad uneven, still trying to infuse as much honesty as he can in his proclamation. “Perhaps, even more than others.” he admits next, not with a small amount of shame, and Adam looks down upon him with furrowed brows before delivering the last, most painful blow.
“But why was I born, Victor?” he questions simply, not bitterly in the slightest, and Victor has just a moment to panic internally before another, even more unexpected question catches him off-guard once again. “Why were you born?” ponders Adam next, regarding his creator with open curiosity now, and Victor tries to part his lips several times before he manages to utter a single word.
“That…” he murmurs as he thinks about his cursed, loveless heritage, as he reflects on his wretched life and wonders how to reveal the most ugly, most unsightly truth about existence in the kindest way possible. “I suppose… because of life’s natural predisposition.” he ends up deflecting at last, reverting to the science that has kept him alive thus far, the only real truth that he had found worth pursuing. “Living beings are born, grow up, reproduce, and eventually… die. It’s just how the way of the world is.”
Adam, on his part, is listening closely to Victor’s objective explanation, but the furrow between his eyebrows has yet to smooth over. “I… see…” he replies with great reluctance, even if it’s clear that he doesn’t, not truly-
And so Victor throws all caution to the wind to dig firmly inside himself, deeper than he’s ever gone before, so he can grasp his own, bleeding heart and present it, still beating, to his creation. “Adam…” he calls him over with his softest, most loving tone, the one he remembers being whispered in the dark corners of an endless manor, and wills himself to be brave. “Truth is… no one truly knows why they are born. It is both a beautiful gift, and a horrendous curse. But I… I made you.” he confesses at last, because even though he never kept his role in Adam’s life a secret, Victor has also never said those words out loud, never made himself feel the true burden that comes with them. “So, I am… sorry, if your existence causes you any… suffering.” he concludes stiffly, expecting either an animosity or melancholy response to his apology-
But instead, Adam’s uncertainty is replaced by surprise, as he regards his creator with a deep, all-encompassing gaze. “...Suf-fering?” he murmurs slowly, as if he’s turning the word in his mouth, trying to gauge its unfamiliar taste and texture. “No, I do not believe I am… suffering, Victor.” is what he settles on at last, words hesitant but tone firm, before his eyelids shudder closed as if he’s also gazing into the deepness within himself. “I am… confused, very much so, and very often. But…” he pauses for a moment, then, opening his eyes again to a new realization, and Victor can see a spark of something good inside of them, something that’s warm and alive and pulsing with affection. “I… I am also… happy, I think.”
With a sudden lump in his throat, Victor can’t do anything but blink as he basks in his creation’s quiet, wondrous joy, in the small reassurance that he is not doing a completely botched-up job in providing for him and making his existence bearable. “Good, that’s… that’s very good.” he whispers after a long, pregnant pause, trying to swallow down his own emotions, all while Adam nods at him once before going back to study the porcelain model attentively.
“But, I do have… more questions.” his creation ultimately demands, shifting a bit on his seat, and Victor welcomes the respite with open arms.
“Well, let’s hear them then.” he declares as he goes to stand back up on his feet, using an overly-encouraging tone to try to bring some levity back to their conversation, and Adam smiles tentatively at him before analyzing the drawings again.
“Before, you said… that when a man lies with a woman, they will… make a child, right?”
“That is correct.” confirms Victor again, knowing that it takes Adam a while to get his head around more complicated topics from time to time, and his creation hums deeply again.
“So, do they lay together… only to… con-ceive?” is his next inquiry, and while the tone behind it is wholly innocent, Victor still finds himself growing just a little bit flustered.
“Well, no…” he begins to explain, suddenly and unexpectedly tongue-tied, despite the fact that any matter of reproduction has never made him feel quite so bashful in the past. “They also do it because… sexual intercourse can be very pleasant.” he ultimately admits with just a slightly strangled voice, all while studying Adam’s face attentively. “And, also because they find each other… attractive, I suppose.” he adds as his creation continues to hum to himself, rocking his body back and forth a couple of times in deep contemplation.
“So, could they lay together and… not make a child?” Adam ultimately asks, with a strange and unfamiliar tension around his eyes, before adding another question that almost makes Victor swallow his tongue whole. “And, could a man… lay with another man, instead?”
In a second, a mastodontic wave of terror and uneasiness crashes into Victor like a solid wall, bathing him from head to toe with goosebumps and a deeper, more visceral reaction that he chooses to completely ignore. The first coherent thought that sprouts in his mind after the onslaught is how the hell did Adam manage to conceive such a dangerous idea, if Victor himself had done anything at all to instill it into him, or if it simply came from a place somewhere inside his own nature, something that his creator had never noticed until that moment-
But then, Victor takes note of Adam’s composed manners, beneath the first layer of his bottomless curiosity, and his heartbeat slows down to something more… manageable. Most likely, his creation is wondering about those matters of the flesh in a completely academic way, and not due to a buried affliction that is lurking within, and Victor tries to relax into the notion that none of his own misdeeds had made their way into his most loved creation’s soul, that Adam had never thought twice about any of Victor’s prolonged stares or lingering caresses.
“T-That…” he stammers out once he remembers that he still owes his creation an explanation, and once more he tries to be as clinical as possible with it. “Well, yes, conception is… not always the goal of intercourse. And, as far as capability goes, two men could certainly lay together, but-” he falters then as he briefly looks away from Adam’s eager stare, to quickly banish the memory of two eager hands on his own hips and the lingering taste of a bearded, burning kiss. “in both scenarios, the couple would be… committing a sin.” he goes on to conclude quickly, raising his gaze again with the hope that his creation’s curiosity has finally been satisfied-
But what Victor doesn’t expect to find are two sad, round eyes with guilt written all over them, something that makes his pulse escalate once again. “Oh…” murmurs Adam with what can only be described as a miserable exhale, flickering his eyes around the room in wordless guilt before looking up at Victor again. “So, to lay together and not make a child, is… a bad thing?”
Not knowing what to make of his creation’s sudden attitude, Victor urges himself to calm down, while attempting to approach the topic as diplomatically as possible. “...According to the Bible, yes.” he confirms haltingly, because he’s not in the habit of lying to Adam and he doesn’t really want to start now; at the same time, a part of him wants to explain that the entire book is full of dogma that should be buried under a pile of manure, that most of those notions are used nowadays just to maintain the current power balance and hinder societal progress, yet he knows that Elizabeth will be far from pleased with such insinuation should Adam choose to repeat them. “But, truth be told… many people do things that are forbidden by sacred texts, regardless of… possible consequences.” is what he ends up declaring instead, in a hearty attempt at bargaining, before switching his tone to something more cheerful and putting up an indisputable case. “After all, some of the rules in those books truly make no sense at all! Things like, ‘do not wear clothes made of mixed fabrics’, or ‘if your wife accidentally touches another man’s penis, cut off her hand’!” he theatrically explains as he holds up one of his own arms, before imitating a small scream of terror and pretending to saw it off with brutal, exaggerated movements-
And thankfully, Victor’s small bit of melodrama does seem to cheer Adam right back up, even pulling a startled laugh out of his creation’s lips and flipping his frown upside down. “Hah, that does sound… strange.” is the delighted comment that Victor gets for his trouble, together with a far more relaxed expression, and that sight alone restores a climate of peace and wonder in his own soul.
“Yes… it truly, truly does.” he breathes out easily, with just a little touch of bitterness, thinking back on his last exposition at the Royal Society and how much those fools could never understand his vision; the letter that his brother brought back from the city is still sitting, unopened, in his office. “So, do not torture yourself with thoughts of… eternal damnation, or similar catastrophes.” he commands then as he goes to pat Adam gently on the head, enjoying the way his creation’s eyes immediately shutter closed at the contact, and his soul bleeds out just a little bit as he makes one honest, final request. “Just… be yourself, and… live this life how it best pleases you, all right?”
“All right, Victor.” agrees Adam instantly, as easy as rain once more, and Victor shuffles even closer to his creation to let his head rest upon his chest, to dig his fingers in the fine strands of his hair and pretend, just for a little while, that the outside world will never find them again with its unyielding ugliness.
***
The winter passes by, slowly but with great merriment, until April’s timid sun ushers in another splendid, blushing spring. The fields soon become a verdant sea full of spotty, lush patches of colors, with crocuses and narcissuses and daffodils sprouting up by the dozens amidst the moss and the rocks, and Victor lets Adam spend hours of their time just wandering around as far as their feet can carry them, along the lake’s gritty shores and the edge of the mixed forest that lies on the outskirts of the tower’s property line.
It’s during one of those excursions that, for the first time ever, Adam encounters the sight of a group of commoners, hunters following the tracks of a herd of deer in the shadows of the oaks and the pines. The encounter is brief and not without some tension, since Adam’s scarred face and poor complexion are bare for the whole world to see, but fortunately the trappers do not come unnecessarily close and instead just stand around to stare for a while, probably puzzled by the presence of two well-dressed men of such different heights together. They do all seem to clench their weapons unusually tightly, however, as if their fine-honed instincts have been put on alert by Adam’s massive frame in the distance, but eventually the group shakes their head and moves on to continue on their path without either a greeting or a bullet, which in Victor’s opinion is the best result that anyone could have hoped for.
That same evening, Victor discusses with Adam the possibility of wearing an eyepatch on his left eye when going out of the tower, to hide his mismatched irises and some of his scars, and at first the suggestion is poorly received to say the least. During the winter, it seems that an independent streak has slowly found its way inside his creation’s heart, which translates into an almost maniacal need to have every single thing done in his own way, and Victor has been following those developments with a heavy heart and an unwelcome sense of foreboding weighing greatly on his mind, a poor mood that follows him almost at all times and can’t be smothered even when Adam slides into his bed at night.
“If you made me perfect, then why must I hide?!” his creation cries out in anger as he paces around Victor’s study, in what could truly be considered their first, real altercation. “Why should I suppress my own ability to perceive, only for others to think more highly of me?!” he then continues with merciless, accurate honesty, just as proud and fearless as his maker hoped he would be-
And it’s because of that candor that Victor can’t manage to be furious in turn, but just painfully raw instead. “Because many will not understand the virtues that you embody, and I am afraid of their cruel words and even more dangerous actions.” he confesses with an incensed, anguished plea, striding forward to gently cup Adam’s face in his hands. “You are my very heart, the one I cherish the most, and I… I do not want to see you suffer at the hands of the world.” he continues as he looks straight into his creation’s eyes, silently begging him to see, to reach out, to understand-
And Adam does, incredibly enough, as his rage falls away from his face to be replaced with a wounded, sheepish expression. “Victor…” he calls out as he reaches back as well, as he puts both of his gigantic palms on his creator’s waist, and in any other moment Victor would have shivered in delight at their closeness, might even have wondered what William or Elizabeth would think if they walked in right at this moment. “I-I apologize, I did not….” continues Adam with halting agony, the tip of his fingers digging at the base of Victor’s spine and sending a bolt of delicious hotness right up to his nape. “I… I will wear it, if it pleases you.” he concedes, at last, looking just as doe-eyed as he had been when he was just a few hours old, and Victor exhales heavily with his nose as he goes to thumb the damp curve of his creation’s lower eyelashes.
“It does not, believe me on this.” he replies as firmly as he can, because he will not have Adam form any misinterpretation about his motives. “If it was for me, you would be as free as the eagles, soaring the great mountain peaks without fear of either bow or rifle.” he continues with unrestrained rigor, as a great sadness overcomes him, which is tempered only by the knowing look in Adam’s eyes and a small, timid nod of response, the sweetest proof that Victor’s words have been received as intended.
“...I know.” affirms Adam then, as a new sort of sureness takes hold of his tone. “I know you always have my well-being in mind, even when it feels like I am being put in chains.” he then declares around a small, tired laugh, before pulling Victor in for a proper hug and letting his maker rest his head, for a little while, at the center of his chest.
In the end, a clearer compromise is reached, where Adam will only wear a heavily-concealing outfit either inside or on the outskirts of a human settlement. It’s a fair arrangement, at least in Victor’s mind, and the disguise does work well enough the few times that he brings Adam to the small village at the bottom of the valley, where the people gaze at the two of them with distrusting eyes but at least do not run off in the distance while screaming. The citizens all give Adam a wide berth, and they do stare quite pointedly at the scars on his face, but no one seems to question the unnatural pallor of his cheeks or the charred shade of his lips like Victor had expected, probably deducing that it’s due to some mysterious, lasting illness. After all, Adam’s whole behaviour is as good as Victor could have hoped, for the most part unobtrusive yet well-spoken when he needs to express himself, and at the third visit the town is already regarding them less like a hostile presence and more as another strange oddity, something that they will discuss later at dinner for sure but will eventually fade from their minds by the next morning.
The trips are all in preparation for William and Elizabeth’s wedding in the spring, which both Adam and Victor will be obliged to attend, but they also seem to convince the latter that his creation belongs in the deepest, most recondite part of the Alps’ wilderness, where he can exercise his newfound drawing skills and spend hours of his time sketching literally anything that catches his attention; from the small bugs crawling to the ground, to the majestic snowy peaks that surround them on all sides, it seems like there’s no end to the details and the landscapes that Adam’s pencil is eager to put to paper, and Victor even manages to convince WIlliam to procure a modest watercolor paint box that Adam can bring around with him during their strolls, and he’s glad to see how gratefully and eagerly his present is soon put to good use.
Another small, yet even more mollifying benefit to their excursions, is that Adam’s brief bout of independence seems to have reached a definitive limit ever since he started to visit the village. He still insists on taking care of most matters with his own hands, but he also actively strives to be in Victor’s vicinity even more often than before, much to Elizabeth’s visible chagrin and William’s puzzled but ultimately resigned acceptance. He even goes as far as insisting to assist Victor in his laboratory during his most unsightly experiments, to peer into the cavity of empty skulls and slimy viscera with keen interest, and Victor would lie if he said that the development doesn’t fill him whole with the greatest sense of accomplishment, or that he wouldn’t do anything within his power to keep Adam this close to him for the rest of their lives.
And yet, even if sharing the same space in his laboratory or study is downright exhilarating, Victor has to admit that his favorite moments with Adam are always outside the tower, especially the days in which they are taking their time to sit on the grass and either indulge in conversation or light reading; their most visited retreat is at the edge of the nearby woods, right where the hills begin to blend into the faded shadow of the trees, where Adam can recite out loud his favourite poems while Victor dozes off next to him, weightless and unburdened by his worries like he has never quite managed to feel before. It’s certainly the most easygoing lifestyle that Victor has ever indulged in, even more relaxed than the years he spent in the loving embrace of his mother, yet there’s not even a speckle of guilt in his mind as long as he can feel the Earth on his back and Adam’s warm presence next to his, as if this tender pastoral dream is where he was supposed to be all along.
In one quite memorable occasion, as they are lying down at the feet of a great oak, Adam is reciting the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam out loud when a mouse crawls in one of his hands by its own volition, like he’s the gifted protagonist of one of Brothers Grimm’s less gruesome tales; rendered breathless by the unusual occurrence, Victor finds himself going as still as a statue, to not scare away the brave creature and interrupt the sanctity of their moment, and Adam smiles warmly back at him as he continues undeterred with his reading, his soft tone rising in the air like a sweet melody that ultimately puts the rodent to sleep.
The sight is a picture-perfect scene of unparalleled bliss, one that would be worthy of John Constable’s talented brush, and Victor feels something awaken in him as he drinks Adam’s figure in full, like he had rarely allowed himself to do before: his creation’s long hair, which he oftentimes keeps tied in a ponytail nowadays, is free from any string and flowing like silk on his white shirt, like strands of chestnut-colored gossamer that catch the light with playful twinkles; his ashen skin is almost translucent in the places where the sun is kissing it, revealing the long strings of his veins that Victor remembers connecting with steady fingers, and there isn’t a single curve of his face that doesn’t shine like the most polished of marble sculptures, from the masculine curve of his brow to the maddening curve of his cheekbone; his dark, bottomless eyes are full of easy pleasure as he takes in the word in the page one by one, as the verses fall down from his dark lips like petals plucked from a rose, and Victor-
And Victor feels his heart ache like a bruise at the otherworldly presence in front of him, feeling fulfilled and yearning at the same time, in a maddening contradiction that he doesn’t quite know how to pacify.
“With me along some strip of herbage strown, that just divides the desert from the sown, where name of slave and sultan scarce is known, and pity Sultan-” Adam’s voice then falters for a brief moment, trapped in a rare bout of uncertainty, and Victor drags himself away from his stupor to lean a tad closer to him, just enough to spy the offending word on the page and take one single, discreet inhale of his soap-clean scent.
“And pity Sultan Mahmud on his throne.” he continues then in Adam’s stead, as quietly as he can, before dropping his gaze and catching the mouse’s nose twitching, briefly, against his creation’s skin. “He was a ruler in ancient times, of what today is known as Persia.” he explains then quickly, to not disturb the creature’s sleep further, and Adam nods in wordless gratitude before he begins his reading anew.
“Here, with a loaf of bread beneath the bough, a flask of wine, a book of verse-” comes then another small pause, this time accompanied by a small chuckle, and Victor goes to turn his gaze towards the poem again-
But before he can do so, his irises are trapped by Adam’s gentle, searching gaze, which is not trained on the book anymore but, instead, on Victor’s face. The scrutiny is unexpected but far from unwelcome, although Victor does wonder briefly what he did to deserve it-
Until Adam’s eyes fall, without the shadow of a doubt, on the curve of his mouth, and Victor’s breathing stutters to a rapid, brusque halt. “And thou, beside me, singing in the wilderness, and wilderness is Paradise enow.” breathes out his creation next, with a mysterious smile and undeniable reverence, in a moment that seems as thick as molasses and just as inescrutable-
And Victor is suddenly struck with the need to lean forward and join their mouths in a kiss, to discover if his dearest heart’s mouth tastes just as sweet as he has been imagining for so long. It’s the first time that the desire has hit him so sharply and so clearly, all-encompassing and impossible to twist into another form, as inevitable as the light of the dawn on the backdrop of the morning sky-
But just as strongly as it was born, his impulse shrivels and then dies right in his throat, together with words of boundless passion that he can’t bring himself to utter. It takes just one look at Adam’s wide, adoring gaze to realize that there’s no adult pleasure to be taken here, only youthful misconstructions that could be exploited and abused, because Adam’s view of the world is still so narrow and innocent compared to most, something that Victor should strive even more to change every day-
So Victor bites his tongue and offers a small, tremulous smile instead, to try and hide his own misery behind a screen of smoke. “...Very good.” he rasps out roughly, as he raises his hand to pat his creation gently on the head, and Adam presses right into his touch like a cat starved for affection, eyes shuttering close as if he’s trying to soak the sensation in as much as possible. “...Continue?” Victor then requests while he lets regret and resignation swim in his guts, as he praises and curses himself for being a responsible person for once, and Adam nods once as he opens his eyes again and regards his booklet with that same, privately amused smile from before.
“«How sweet is mortal sovranty!», think some… Others, «How blest the Paradise to come!»…”
***
As the peak of summer shines down on Switzerland's mountains, Elizabeth and William are finally to be wed, and Victor makes the short journey to his old family estate with Adam by his side.
By this time, Victor is already aware that his brother intends to sell their childhood home, and that he and Elizabeth will relocate to England on a more permanent basis afterward, so the party is an opportunity for both brothers to say goodbye to their most recondite past and embrace the future with open, unburdened arms. In truth, Victor is still quite unsure of what will happen to him next, except for the fact that he will continue to linger by Adam’s side for as long as he can, and his gloomy thoughts of adversity weigh heavily in the back of his mind as the carriage guides him between the hills and the valleys of the Alps, taking a road that he only faintly remembers after so many months spent almost solely on the water tower’s property.
Adam, on his part, is perfectly content during the whole drive, immersed in yet another book of French contemporary poetry that Victor translated for him personally. He doesn’t seem nearly as nervous as Victor feels on the inside, like the prospect of being thrown into a festivity that’s at least five times the size of the village that they have visited is not such a big deal after all, but at least Victor has been slightly mollified by William’s multiple reassurances that yes, he did indeed spread the words around his guest regarding Victor’s unusual company, and that his tale has clearly matched the story that his brother had put together; that Adam was a soldier injured during the war, brought to Victor’s door with near-fatal wounds and lingering memory loss, who after his miraculous recovery had decided to stick by Victor’s side and become his closest confidant, both due to his gratitude towards his life’s saviour and the fact that he couldn’t really recall a home that he could go back to.
At the beginning, Victor had worried that the harsh blend of truth and fabrication in his tale would be too outlandish to be believed, but it only takes about two hours after their arrival at the manor to realize that his doubts were completely unfounded. Apparently, William’s work colleagues and their wives have all eaten up their dreary story, and their gazes are simultaneously horrified and sympathetic whenever they land on Adam’s face, yet at the same time they all treat Victor’s creation with extreme politeness, and some of the women even express their sympathy over the made-up circumstances. Victor and William’s extended family is far less easy to impress, but both brothers have grown a very thick skin in the years to withstand their disapproval, so Adam’s presence is just another drop in the bucket of things that Victor should be considered a disgrace for, together with his ‘questionable parentage’ and ‘awful disposition’.
It has to be pointed out that Adam has cleaned up quite nicely for the event, if Victor can say so himself, and so his put-together appearance is certainly contributing to making most strangers’ attitudes warmer in his regard. On top of his immaculately-styled hair and mandatory eye patch, a light layer of powder has also been applied to his face and lips to soften their complexion, and William had also been generous enough to send clothes specifically tailored for him this time, of the same luxurious fabric and high craftsmanship that the brothers have chosen for their own attire: a high-thread silken white dress shirt, covered by a snug double-breasted vest in dashing ivory, and a light yet quite tightly-fitted black morning coat, that seems to fit around Adam’s shoulders like a pair of well-worn gloves. His pants are equally dark and dangerously high-waisted, with a straight cut that only accentuates his long legs, and Victor can’t believe how downright sinful his creation looks as he wades through the crowd with his chin high and his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s every inch the gentleman that Victor very rarely manages to impersonate.
He makes Victor want to reach for him at every second, to either pass a hand around his waist or link their arms together possessively, and it takes a great deal of self-control to smother down those urges.
On top of Adam’s alluring presence, the festive wedding mood is also infusing the manor’s guest with an amiable atmosphere, and even Victor is utterly enchanted by the lit up chandeliers and the music that filters out from every single sitting room; back when he had been younger, his sheltered mind could have never imagined that his home could be so overflowing with people and life, since his parents never even hosted a dinner with more than a handful of guests, so Victor is only hit by the kindest side of nostalgia as he climbs those familiar stairs with Adam by his side, as he dodges the partygoers who already had a bit too much to drink to show his favourite rooms and paintings to the eager gaze of his creation. He feels, briefly, as he had done back when life had been simple and uncomplicated, when he could play hide-and-seek by himself all day long and rest in his mother’s embrace at night, and somehow the sea of people around him makes him feel just as sheltered and invisible as those days, with the sole difference of the precious soul that walks by his side and holds his soul solely in his hands.
In fact, Victor gets so relaxed and confident in his own home that he even manages to lose sight of Adam altogether for a while, after he goes to find something to drink and he gets stuck in a conversation with one of the many groups of associates that compose William’s overbearing entourage. One bookkeeper in particular manages to keep Victor pinned for far too much time, smiling at him with a leer as he inquires about every single aspect of his life as a medical researcher, and Victor is so put off by his overbearing demeanor and blatant flirting that he ends up commenting loudly on the man’s awful case of alitosis, something that manages to make the stranger gawk in building outrage and gives Victor the opportunity to finally make his escape.
The damage, however, is already done, and Victor has to spend quite some time carefully scanning the joyful and progressively more drunken crowd, hoping to spot Adam’s towering figure amongst the transparent veils and the falling petals. The manor is vast, however, even if Victor knows every nook and cranny of it like the back of his own hand, and it’s only to the whispered gossiping of one of the handmaidens that he manages to find out what, or more exactly who, has been able to lure his beloved away from his side.
So Victor suddenly has to hurry over to one of the manor’s many boudoirs, which is now being used as the bride’s fitting room for the night, only to stop quite forcefully in front of the door when he hears Elizabeth’s voice filter out on the corridor. Her tone sounds outright pleading, even if he can't quite make out the words, and Victor’s stomach suddenly twists in a very painful way when a horrible sense of dread comes to claw at him from the depths of his soul, until his only impulse is to creep silently towards the entrance and peek carefully into the room with the hope of staying undetected-
And it’s right there that Victor sees, in all of its nefarious glory, the very personification of his deepest and darkest nightmares: Elizabeth’s glowing bridal figure, standing right in front of Adam’s far more imposing frame, with both of her hands on his creation’s wide chest and her head tilted up in wordless, genuine supplication. The soon-to-be bride seems to be giving out a long and passionate speech, one that Victor dreads to hear with all of his heart, yet his ears still try their hardest to catch a word, a breath, a sound, anything that will dispel his fright and convince him that what he stumbled upon is nothing more than a small misunderstanding-
But Victor’s hopes are slowly shattered into tiny, painful shards when Elizabeth twists his head to the side, not enough to make her spot the intruder but plenty enough to make her voice carry over. “My place is not in this world…” is what Victor manages to catch, by grace of the wind and movement of her lips, but the distance is still too great to understand the entirety of her monologue. “...Better this way…” is the next piece of the puzzle, one that could still fit into an innocent narrative, right before her next plea doesn’t leave any lingering doubt on the reason behind this unexpected summoning. “...Take me with you… please.”
And just like that, Victor feels himself go cold all over, plunged into an icy river of desperation that leaves him numb and breathless. He remembers how it felt to be on the other side of one of Elizabeth’s prayers, how they had almost sundered his soul asunder from his flesh, and for a moment his brain is torn between too many feelings to parse, from jealousy to horror to burning, unbridled rage. In the end, however, all that’s left behind from his emotional miasma is an uncontainable and eroding sadness, because there’s no way that Adam will remain unmoved by such a desperate plea, no way that he would not bend down his knee and leave Victor behind in the dust once and for all-
Yet Adam, in deep contrast with the despair that has gripped his maker, appears completely unmoved by Elizabeth’s begging, except for the contrite look in his eyes and the tense slant of his mouth. His posture is still that of an impeccable gentleman, with his arms bent backwards to keep his fingers as far away from her body as possible-
And Victor almost faints when he hears the response that falls from his honest, lightly-rouged lips.
“I am sorry, Elizabeth.” is what his creation says, in the false stillness of the room, locking his irises together with the bride’s in a mutual show of honesty. “But… believing something does not make it true.”
For a moment, Elizabeth’s fingers twitch and curl on the rich textile of Adam’s clothes, and the shadow of her hands almost looks like a bloody-red stain on his waxen vest. At the same time, the slither of her face drops into wordless shock and then shrivels up with silent, harrowing desperation, her lips fluttering like the wings of a newborn bird before parting decisively again-
And that’s when Victor finally finds the strength to move his legs again, barging into the conversation with heavy steps, and the temperature in the room immediately plunges down to glacial levels. His hands ball up into fists when Elizabeth turns towards him with shocked, guilty eyes, only to tighten up further when Adam does the same with a much more alarmed expression, and Victor distantly wonders what sort of grimace is now painted on his own face, what sort of monster he is embodying to even make his beloved creation so afraid.
In the end, however, congeniality can’t seem to find a perch in Victor’s mind, and his mood leans even more towards the fire of rage that’s expanding within his guts. “Elizabeth… Get away from him.” he utters, low and deadly, as he begins his advance towards the pair, and it’s only then that the bride’s hands slide away from the sacred curve of Adam’s sternum, a last lingering caress that makes Victor grit his teeth and transforms the furrow between his eyebrows into a ravine.
With a small side step, Elizabeth finally puts a proper amount of space between herself and Victor’s creation, but the heaviness in the air doesn’t dissipate even when she starts to walk silently in Victor’s direction with her head carefully tilted down, not even when she passes him by to quickly slip out of the sitting room with a swish of her dress and the booming click of a door closing behind. For a while, it feels like the entire world is standing at the edge of a precipice, toying with the incessant pull of gravity that Victor had tried so hard to resist until now, and his face also falls to the floor once he spots Adam taking a few, careful steps in his direction, a last and desperate attempt to fight off the magnetic pull of his creation’s figure-
Yet Victor remains with his shoes nailed into the floor, stuck motionless by both terror and indignation, until Adam’s shiny black boots wander back into his field of vision. His mind is swimming and there’s sweat gathering all over his forehead and nape, as if an unexpected fever has suddenly caught him by surprise, but a part of him is still refusing to bow down to his deepest instinct and take one single step towards the owner of his heart, to cross the line that has continued to grow more and more blurry as the months went by.
“I ought to hurry downstairs, and speak to my brother at once.” is what Victor mumbles out instead, his tongue suddenly alien and swollen inside his mouth. “I ought to-” he repeats once more before faltering when Adam creeps even closer, until the tips of his shoes are right against his creator’s, and something melts apart behind Victor’s ribs when he catches the scent of his own bath oil coming from Adam’s pale skin, when he sees two gloved hands come to grasp his ones tightly between firm fingers.
“Victor.” murmurs then Adam, rubbing his thumbs on his creator’s bare knuckles, sending shivers of reverberant delight all over his arms. “Victor, look at me.” he continues to ask, calm and perfectly at ease in his current predicament, and Victor almost laughs bitterly out loud before he tilts his head back and bares his shame for the whole world to see, meeting his creation’s enthralling gaze with the hope that it will not be poisoned by realization, disgust, or fear-
But instead, Adam bends down to leave a chaste, lingering kiss on Victor’s mouth, and all at once everything just… stops.
By the time Adam pulls back, Victor is frozen with incredulity, but his hands still lunge forward on their own to grab the lapels of his creation’s coat, his only anchors in the waves of such an unexpected storm. His body feels like a hot balloon ready to take off at any moment, like it would take only a gust of wind to guide him upwards towards an unknown paradise, and his eyes are open wide as they take in the delighted curve of the smiling lips he just tasted, as they soak into the indisputable affection written in every curve and dip of Adam’s face. His tongue then shoots out to chase that hint of rouge that the kiss had left behind, pasty and bitter yet also strangely enticing just like the rest of this strange night, and Adam’s eyes are suddenly lit up by a very flattering hunger as he follows Victor’s movement with the same focus that he reserves for his books, as if his creator is a delightful piece of literature that he wants to take apart word by word-
And Victor lets himself be learned as he pulls down Adam to have their mouths meet again, as he abandons his doubts and fears into a hazy nothingness to enjoy his current predicament as much as possible. The kiss is just as innocent as the first one, until Victor parts his mouth to properly taste the maddening curve of his creation’s bottom lip, and the contact instantly grows hot and heavy once Adam opens up as well and adds the barest hint of tongue to the mix, his hands raising up to cup Victor’s face between them and keep him trapped where he is.
It’s incredible to be held so carefully by such large palms, as if he’s something utterly fragile and precious, but Victor can’t manage to be equally cautious with his own affections when he locks his arms around Adam’s neck to bring him down even further, to devour his creation’s mouth relentlessly as he pushes their bodies flush together. There is still no room for rational thoughts anywhere in his mind, its landscape now a field of roaring instincts and basic desires, and a pleading whine fights its way out of his throat when his hips push forward with mindless, pure abandonment, until they trap the unmistakable shape of Adam’s growing interest flush against his abdomen. If Victor had any wits left in him, he probably would have chastised himself for being so honest and greedy, for potentially scaring away his loveliest one with the depths of his depravity-
Yet, on the contrary, Victor finds himself airborne in more ways than one when Adam picks him up like he weighs nothing at all, propping his buttocks on the surface of a single, perfectly sculpted arm while the other comes to wrap protectively around his back. The effortless show of strength makes Victor’s prick grow as hard as a rock inside his pants, leaking shamelessly in the confines of his underwear while he locks his calves together behind Adam’s back, and his hands are ruthless as they go to open the strap of his creation’s eyepatch and throw the offending item somewhere on the ground, before plunging his fingers in the thick forest of his hair and undoing the ribbon that’s keeping his fastidiously perfect hairstyle together.
Adam, for his part, seems perfectly content to devour Victor’s mouth in any way he can, from licking at the seam of his lips like a dog to leaving small, tentative bites at the curve of his fleeting smile. He seems torn between copying whatever Victor is doing to him and just indulging in his desires without much finesse, a dichotomy that’s making Victor absolutely crazy with desire and excites him almost as much as all the perverted scenarios that are taking shape in his mind-
But ultimately, the wave of madness recedes a bit when Victor’s back hits the sharp edges of one of the room’s wooden closets, breath stuttering in surprise since he hadn’t even noticed that Adam was searching for a surface to cage his creator against. The impact is strong enough to separate their mouths and force their eyes to meet properly, a sobering moment of clarity that passes in between sweet breaths on each other’s lips, so Victor is tentative once again as he goes to press a single, reverent kiss under the orbital cavity of Adam’s now uncovered eye, a gesture that pulls a pleased rumble from his creation’s throat and makes his eyelids shutter close in bliss. The gesture becomes a string of feather-soft pecks along the curve of Adam’s cheek, temple, and jaw, before reaching the solid angle of his chin and continuing, undeterred, on the other side of his face, and Adam’s hums soon evolve into an almost inhuman frequency that Victor could be tempted to classify as ‘purring’, if only his brain wasn’t in danger of leaking out of his ears with one single too complicated idea.
The atmosphere then grows incandescent again once Victor gives in to temptation and leaves a small, yet firm bite at the base of Adam’s carotid artery, right where his shoulder and neck meet, and his action is met with a much lower and much more delicious growl. At the same time, the grip of Adam’s fingers around his flank and thigh suddenly tightens up possessively, dancing perfectly on the limit between pain and pleasure, and Victor finds himself doing the same as he grips a handful of his creation’s hair and pulls his head backwards, only far enough to drown into his cavernous eyes and be sure that his next words are properly understood.
“...V-Victor?” Adam calls out in response to his gesture, broken and lovely and utterly undone, and Victor lets a pleased hum emerge from his throat as he reassures his creation’s plea with a single, lingering kiss, not wanting to make him believe even for a second that he was going to put a stop to this.
“Can’t stay here.” he murmurs then, right on top of Adam’s lips, feeling pleasantly drunk on his creation’s body heat and the unwavering grip around his body. “Let’s go… somewhere else?” he demands next airily, spurred by the recognition that it would be a bad idea to linger inside Elizabeth’s dressing room in such a compromising position, especially since the handmaidens could come back at any moment-
But any thought of the outside world melts away from his skull once again when Adam buries his teeth on the side of his neck, this time definitely hard enough to bruise, and Victor can feel the rush of his blood going straight back to his untouched, weeping cock. This time he does register every twitch of his creation’s robust form as he rearranges his limbs carefully, until his body finds himself held in a very unsuitable bridal carry, and Victor knows he should take a look around and tell Adam where he needs to go next, should instruct him on what corridor to take in order to avoid even the most adventurous merrymaker from spotting them from afar-
And yet instead, Victor suppresses both his thoughts and his shame to let himself be lulled by his creation’s steady steps, closing his eyes with the confidence that Adam can manage to be very stealthy when he doesn't want to be detected. As reality becomes nothing more than a blur in the gap between his eyelids, a part of him finally understands what it feels like to be boiled down to the purest essence of any living creature, and why so many people decide to indulge in the most dangerous addictions; he feels like nothing but pure flesh when he’s supported by Adam's arms, small and protected just like a fetus in its mother’s womb, and for a moment his pleasure-drunk mind even wishes that his creation was wearing the heavy bulk of his favourite winter fur coat, so that Victor could disappear into its soft folds for a long time and feel completely encapsulated in its warm, uncomplicated embrace.
Despite the innate respite of his situation, or maybe precisely because of it, Victor just can’t manage to keep his hands to himself even during such a hazardous moment, and so his hips begin to undulate slowly in search of any possible friction, in particular the marmoreal surface of Adam’s abdomen. The contact is halting and nebulous at best, like drinking watered wine instead of partaking in a plentiful banquet, but Victor’s actions still manage to pull a plethora of miserable and delighted whines from his creation’s lips, groans and bitten pleas of Victor’s name that precede either a fleeting open-mouthed kiss or a deep growl of warning. In turn, the sounds of the party grow more and more distant as Adam continues to walk around, or maybe they are just swallowed by the steady rise of Victor’s heartbeat in his ears, and his twitching hands have to restrain themselves from stripping his creation and rendering him bare right where they stand, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor for a blushing maid to find.
In the end, a door on the manor’s second floor opens up at Adam’s hurried touch, and Victor removes his face from the slope of his creation’s neck to take in the familiar surroundings around him; still left untouched from when he last saw it, and bathed only in the moon’s meager light filtering from a single window, his mother’s somber bedroom greets him with a fine layer of dust covering it all over, not enough to suggest complete neglect but still hurtful in some way. The space has clearly been sitting unused for many years, yet a presence still lingers, undeniable, in the blood-red curtains of the canopy bed and the little doves painted on the black ceiling, in the tasteful deep purple floral pattern of the wallpaper and the dark mahogany that was used to build all the furniture, and a sudden rush of memory sobers Victor up faster than any other hidden danger in the estate, to the point where he can even spot Adam blinking down at him with something akin to regret etched all over his face.
“Is this… appropriate?” mutters then his creation lowly, in the same tone he had used when he was barely an infant and slithering inside Victor’s bed unannounced, and the muscles of Victor’s heart seem to grow three times larger inside his chest; he realizes, elatedly, that not only his previous ramblings about the house’s planimetry had been heeded carefully, to the point where Victor wouldn’t be surprised to know that Adam had already memorized it fully, but that his creation had also paid close attention to his creator’s halting confessions, that he had listened well when Victor said that he never felt as safe and as secure as the nights he had spent with his head against his mother’s breast in her small, secluded bedroom-
And Victor knows he could give to Adam the same response he had given to Elizabeth, back during what now seems like a different life, and cheekily pretend that there’s nothing truly ‘appropriate’ in this world, that all standards of ethics are nothing more than layers of pretenses made to hide the savage truth hidden underneath every human being. He could also be truthful and blunt like when he’s explaining the crude functioning of a body made of flesh and bone, as disgusting as when his arms are covered in viscera and his butcher’s apron is stained all over with blood-
But instead, Victor just puts his arms around Adam’s neck again and pulls him down to kiss him hard and firm, letting his body and his actions speak louder than any words. His creation seems to understand him loud and clear, striding into the room and closing the door behind them with a well-placed kick, and Victor’s whole body tenses up with anticipation as he’s deposited gently on top of the vacant mattress, with his creation looming awkwardly just above him; Adam’s hands are shaky as he spreads them slowly on the quilt’s dusty surface, yet his eyes are round and eager when they drink in his creator’s sprawled figure, so Victor cups his jaw with his hands and leaves a series of soft, tentative kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, hoping to smother that current of tension that now lies underneath both of their skins.
“V-Victor…” his creation then calls him out haltingly, his fingers twitching repeatedly as his breath grows damp and heavy, and Victor slides one hand from the curve of his cheek to the top of his head, instinctively falling back on the gesture that usually puts Adam the most at rest.
“Adam…” he calls out reverently, as he carefully combs back Adam’s wild hair from his face, and his delight soars even higher when a deep, satisfied purr finally begins to echo loudly around him. “My dearest heart.” he adds then, showing in full the depths of his adoration, and Adam’s rumbling halts as his entire body twitches in a very promising way-
But then, a far less pleased groan cuts the air as his creation begins to pull back, not enough to remove his hands from the bed but more than sufficient to stop hovering above his creator’s willing body. “V-Victor…” Adam then whines in distress as he shakes his head from side to side, as if to dislodge a yoke from the curve of his neck, his irises two pinpoints in the barely lit-up room. “I, I don’t-”
“Adam?” Victor is quick to repeat as he hurriedly sits up, suddenly struck by a wave of confused panic, and his hands are hesitant when he grasps his creation’s shoulders and lulls him into stillness again. “Adam, what is the matter, darling?” he then whispers when another whine pierces this air, this time less panicked and more pained, and Victor is only marginally reassured when Adam’s forehead makes contact with his shoulder, his creation’s body curling around him in search of the most basic form of comfort.
It takes a while for the words to come, but when they do, they cut almost as sharp as knives. “I am… afraid…” admits Adam with great difficulty, as if he’s confessing to some great sin, and his next confession cleaves Victor’s heart right into two. “Afraid I might… wound you...”
“Wound me?” replies Victor slowly, touched but also extremely baffled, still wordlessly wondering where his creation’s distress is stemming from. “...Why do you believe that you would do that?” he decides to inquire after a moment, as he continues to caress Adam’s back with repetitive, soothing motions, hoping to somehow bring back at least a small spark of his creation’s previous eagerness-
And the path to do so becomes crystal-clear once Adam uncovers the real root of the issue, buried deep in the softest folds of his virtuous heart. “The… the things that I desire… that I dreamt about doing with you…” he haltingly confesses as he buries his face deeper into his creator’s neck, quivering with the fictional shame of his urges, and Victor's heart fills with unparralleled joy at the idea that his dearest heart had also shared his folly, they they have both been so terribly starved for one another. “They are all… so… vicious…” Adam then continues haltingly, with half-bitten words and primal groans, and Victor is glad that his creation’s admission is rekindling his hopes for the night, because otherwise he would have certainly laughed at the absurdity of it all.
“My dear… they are nothing more than what any other average male would crave, I can assure you.” he somehow manages to reply, with a passable tone of understanding, as his mind quickly constructs his next strategy: to push aside his own eagerness, together with any grand plans for the night, and let this experience go just as far as Adam wants. “We will begin… slowly, all right? And at your own pace.” he declares next while he drops his hands from his creation’s shoulder to his hips, carefully pushing him towards the side in a casual encouragement. “Shall we start, perhaps, by lying down together-?”
But instead of following his suggestion, Adam just groans and then climbs back on the bed, with hands and knees right at the sides of his creator’s body like the bars of a lovely, familiar cage. His whole weight then drops rather unceremoniously, making the small mattress groan loudly in protest, and Victor is suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of Adam’s figure and the delectable smell of his skin, by the plains and dips of his creation’s body that he can now feel from the curve of his pectorals to the lines of his shins.
“O-Oh, yes, this… this works out just as well.” Victor then announces breathlessly, as he tries and fails to not swell in his pants again in the span of a few seconds, but all of his good intentions are flung out of the window when Adam groans deep and loud straight into his ear, before pressing his nose right against Victor’s temple and inhaling his scent like a rose filled with summer rain.
“V-Victor…” murmurs then Adam, and his voice is like an earthquake under his creator’s resolution, a harpoon that pierces him from side to side and leaves him gasping for air, for sanity, for temperance. “Your flesh… it’s as if… as if it’s calling to me…” he continues with that same, brutal honesty that has always made Victor weak in his knees, that has inspired him and made him extremely jealous in equal measure, that filled him simultaneously with yearning and the strangest sort of vanity-
And Victor is powerless to do anything but reply in kind, to peel back the veils of his own reluctance and show the bleeding need that lives between his ribs. “Then respond truthfully, my dear, that’s all I ask of you.” he begs shamelessly as his legs fall open naturally, to welcome Adam’s weight in full, and his spine traces a perfect arch when Adam slides one hand to the small curve of his back, when his lips shape his next words right on top of Adam’s mouth. “Come, listen, listen closely, and give me your answer-”
And Adam’s response comes in the form of a biting kiss, raw and brutal and laced with the purest form of sincerity. His hair is falling around Victor’s hair like a curtain and his stomach is right on top of his creator’s throbbing length, undulating back and forth with just the right amount of friction to make a lesser man go insane, and the arm that’s not wrapped around Victor’s waist is resting somewhere right above his head, sinking low in the mattress from his wrist to his elbow and making the bed crack ominously at the end of every single thrust.
It’s fantastic, it’s pure madness, it’s all that he had dreamed about in his rare moments of honesty, and Victor lets his mouth be devoured as he goes to hurriedly undo the buttons of his double-breasted vest, pulling at them brutally like the fabric is burning on his skin. He had abandoned his coat long before he lost Adam in the crowd, somewhere between his second brandy and a very dreadful conversation with one of his great-aunts, so it’s easy for him to skim out of his first piece of clothing and attach his chemise next, eager to feel the drag of Adam’s own garments against his bare chest-
Until suddenly, the hand that was caressing Victor’s flank is on top of his own, and the kiss is broken with a gasp when Adam pulls back just enough to study his creator’s torso with a hungry, shameless gaze. His confidence then fizzles out again when he goes to hide again in Victor’s curls, leaving a kiss on the exposed skin of his clavicles and sending a wave of goosebumps all over his body, and Victor watches in amazement as Adam toys with the third button of his shirt and then undoes it with shaky, reverent fingers, fidgeting just how Saint Thomas had done when he explored the spear wound under Jesus’ breast.
His flesh surely had known how to find its pleasure, back when it belonged to lesser men, yet there's nothing but virginal hesitancy in the way Adam’s eyes are taking in the bronzed skin of his creator, in how his mouth is hesitant yet hungry as it explores the path downwards that his hands are revealing. His breath is pleasantly lukewarm as it caresses Victor’s sternum, strong enough to push under the textile and reach the sensitive mound of his nipples, and Victor whines instinctively as he grabs the fine hair of Adam’s nape with shaky fingers, not to guide him anywhere but rather just to have something to hold on to. Adam seems pleased by the contact, judging by the deep sigh that he releases in the hollow under Victor’s ribs, before nudging his belly button with the tip of his nose and gently caressing the coarse texture of his abdominal hair. His lips are like a brand when they press first against Victor’s iliac crests, first the one on the right and then the left, but then his courage seems to falter once more when presented with the hard limit of Victor’s sealed breeches, a simple leather belt that for him must appear like a dreaded challenge-
So Victor eagerly takes over as he goes to sit up again, dragging Adam along with him by abandoning the silk of his hair and grasping the collar of his coat instead. He then tugs insistently at the offending piece of clothing, in a manner that can’t be misunderstood, and his desire unfolds its petals even further when Adam squares his shoulders and lets himself be divested without a single word, ready to bend at every one of Victor’s orders even amidst his cresting trepidation.
The coat falls down next to the bed like a heavy mantle, followed by Adam’s vest and shirt, until Victor is left face-to-face again with the naked beauty that he had created with his own two hands. In the dim moonlight of the bedroom, the man that he had stitched together is more beautiful than ever, an absolute work of art instead of an insult to an absent God, and Victor puts all of his misguided devotion in the sacrality of his gestures as he goes to kiss each one of Adam’s fading suture scars, from the small opening above his epiglottis to the long, winding fold that wraps under his left pectoral; the memories of laborious days of work resurface with brief sparks of light, together with the smell of the laboratory's decaying air and the persistent scent of incoming rain drifting in from the broken windows, and Victor is almost embarrassed at the reminder of how single-minded he had been back then in his pursuit, how uncomprehending towards the true significance of the miracle he was about to perform. He had thought himself above the mundane and the divine, convinced down to the marrow of his bones that his knowledge was going to triumph above both Heaven and Earth-
But in the end, Victor had done just what many women in the world could do, and now the fruit of his labour is gasping for air as Victor licks the small stripe of skin where his missing nipple should have been. The asymmetry of him only highlights the hidden beauty within, and the lean curve of his waist becomes more taut at the purposeful caress of expert fingers, until Victor grasps the prominent bulge at the front of Adam’s trousers and relearns the shape of him all over again, feels him grow even more hard and swollen under his fingers as his groans gain a decidedly begging quality to them.
Back when Victor had been selecting the most perfect parts of his creation, he had paid no mind to the size of his manhood, except for the thought that it must remain well-proportioned to the rest of him; now, however, his mouth waters as he thanks the foresight of his past self, and his movements gain an extra edge of purpose when Adam comes to search for his mouth with his, his humid breath caressing his creator’s face like the pants of an excited dog. “How does it feel? To be touched in such a way?” Victor’s pride can’t help but ask, smiling sweetly at each bite and lick that Adam delivers to his lips, his cheeks, his chin, wondering if his creation is just too eager to consume him to remember how to kiss him properly.
“G-Good…” Adam then groans in response, a single word that says more than an entire poem, and Victor feels the flames of desire lick up his insides when his creation’s hips begin to move in tandem with his hand, when his voice shatters into broken sentences drenched with mindless adoration. “I-It feels great, Victor, s-so amazing, s-so divine-”
It takes only that small mention of his name to spur Victor even further, to hastily undo the belt and buttons of Adam’s trousers and finally reach into the root of his suffering with a bare hand. “Then let yourself feel, my heart.” he begs as his clammy palm meets the scalding hot line of his creation, slightly damp at the tip and just as soft as velvet. “Come, take it, take it however you want-”
And Adam does, timidly yet greedily just like how virgin boys can be, with a great deal of whining and a growing mess of fluids smeared between his creator’s fingers. There are few things that Victor would like more than to put his mouth on him and suck him nice and slow, to let him spill between his lips and then coax him back to hardness until his throat could get properly acquainted with the grit of his length, but doing so would require a great deal of movement that Victor is very not keen to do at the moment, especially when Adam loses control on his inhibitions and bites down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder with a considerable amount of force.
“Vi-Vic-tor-!” he then growls out gutturally once he releases his grip, as if a beast is about to erupt out of his back like a reborn butterfly, and Victor relishes in the sting that his teeth left behind, in the dampness that could be either his creation’s saliva or his own blood.
“Y-Yes-” he calls back haltingly, adjusting the grip of his hand to be even more punishing, teasing the underside of Adam’s cockhead with his thumb and his crumbling mind with honey-drenched demands. “That's it, go ahead, give yourself to me-”
And just like that, Adam finally comes undone in his creator’s fist with a full-body shudder, painting the fine bones of Victor’s wrist with spurt after spurt of sticky, lukewarm spent. The orgasm seems to crest in several long waves, each punctuated by a hard thrust and a shaky breath taken in between serrated teeth, and Victor instinctively soothes his creation with a series of close-mouthed pecks along the curve of his slightly damp eyebrow, all while a strange sense of deep accomplishment settles deep within his soul; despite the erotic charge hanging in the air, his own arousal is just a faint echo in the distance, much like a church’s bell on a Sunday for a non-believer, and so Victor takes in a full inhale of Adam’s now sweat-salty scent before pulling back from him just a bit, just so that he can look between their bodies and have his own cock twitch in his pants with half-hearted hopefulness.
Still held tight in his hand, Adam’s length looks even bigger than what Victor had imagined with the aid of his touch, ruddy red from his slit to the base and still weeping copious amounts of spent against his fingers. His shaft is bulky with heavy veins and his testicles hang down like forbidden fruits, still round and heavy with desire despite his recent peak, and Victor is suddenly overrun with the desire to suck each one of them in his mouth and tease them gently with his tongue, to lavish them with plenty of attention from his tongue and gather every drop of liquid that spilled on his creation’s hairless skin-
But all of his plans are put to a halt when a pale hand presses suddenly at the center of his chest, and Victor lets out a bitten grunt as he finds himself bouncing back down on the bed. After glancing briefly in shock at the dark canopy above him, his gaze immediately wanders back to Adam with great urgency, wondering why his creation has pushed him away so strongly and so suddenly-
But the black pools that greet him are not the tender, skittish irises that Victor had seen moments before. They are deep, hungry wells that beckon his soul with a small glint of hidden gold, that call upon the slithering darkness that resides within him and coax him brusquely into the light-
They are the eyes of a beast, one unburdened by sin, and Victor is the willing prey trapped between the teeth of his large mouth.
As the object of his unwavering focus goes still and eager under him, Adam drags his hand down from Victor’s sternum to his crotch without a single word or sound, swiftly undoing his creator’s belt while keeping him pinned to the bed with the weight of his gaze alone. The anticipation in the air is still thick and heavy like morning fog, almost strong enough to coat the back of Victor’s tongue, but his body remains unmoving even when Adam opens his pants and then yanks them down his legs unceremoniously, before removing his shoes and socks with the same restrained brutality and reserving the same treatment also to his underclothes.
Now rendered completely bare and with his weeping, untouched cock in full view, Victor somehow can’t bring himself to feel even the slightest bit bothered by his own nudity, a thought that reflects outwards when his legs part invitingly for Adam to slither between them. His creation’s eyes fill up with warm approval when he notices the silent invitation, before he ducks down again to tuck his nose against the curls of his creator’s pube and shamelessly inhale the crudest scent of his body, and the sight of Adam’s mouth so close to his aching prick is more than enough to smash through the last belt of Victor’s once impenetrable walls, revealing the needy and aching core of him in full; his vision grows hazed as his back arches strenuously off the bed, his legs trembling like a newborn fawn as they close gently around his creation’s head, but Adam just lets out a cavernous hum as he puts two hands under Victor’s knees to push his tights flush against his upper body, leaving the lower part of him even more exposed to his gaze and the room’s euphoric summer air.
The abrupt change of position makes Victor whine needily, and his muscles contract with misplaced optimism at the thought of being forced to accommodate his lover’s massive member. However, reality is quick to remind him that there’s simply no way to achieve such a feat with nothing more than spit and a great deal of willingness, at least not without serious danger of internal or external tearing, and neither of them are in need of the assurance that they will not be able to attend the last and most important part of the wedding, at least not without encountering the wrath of William and several other members of the Harlander and Frankenstein families.
Adam, at least, doesn’t seem concerned with anything but his meticulous exploration of his creator’s groin, which for the moment consists only of the slow drag of his lips across every inch of Victor’s skin and the occasional bite or lick on top of a particularly tempting curve of muscles. His inspection of Victor’s genitals is fleeting and absolutely maddening, nothing more than a curious lick at the wetness gathering around his slit and a couple of feathery kisses on the side of his shaft, yet nothing makes Victor gasp louder than the moment when an inquisitive thumb comes to explore the dry rim of his entrance, a simple caress that threatens to completely destroy the solid foundations of his previous reasonings. Without any direct prompting from his brain, his hips begin wiggling with rampant need against Adam’s iron grip, and his sphincter contracts madly around the rough whorls of his creation’s finger, wordlessly begging him to dig deeper and sink inside his inviting, snug heat-
Until Victor’s whole world is upended when his creation flips him effortlessly upside down, fast enough to make his vision blur and twist his stomach in unknown shapes. Before he can even truly comprehend what happened to him, his ass is up in the air and there’s a demanding hand in his hair that pins his head down, and his cock spasms imploringly when Adam’s other hand comes to press against his intestines to hold his hips upright, large and wide enough to reach both ends of his waist without any stretching.
Still reeling at the sudden change of position, Victor can’t hold in a ruptured moan when his creation’s mouth comes back for him, this time right against his most hidden place and doing exactly what Victor had hoped his finger would do; Adam’s tongue is insistent on the smooth surface of his perineum, before coming to nudge at the twitching flesh of his entrance and slowly sinking in to tease his rim properly, and Victor could swear that each dip in is the strike of a blade cutting him open from his coccyx to his fifth vertebra, bones and sinews stripped bare as if he's the one who’s made out of many spare parts that need to be sewed back together.
In the midst of the attack that he’s enduring, with his head empty of any logical thought and his cock leaking freely on the quilt beneath him, Victor finally sinks deep enough to properly demand what he wants, to cough out the only primal need that matters to him now. “D-Deeper-” he begs as his legs part even wider and his back bends in a perfect bow, mouth open around his cries and an unending string of unabashed moans. “G-Go deeper, Adam, p-please, please-!”
With a grunt and a lewd suck, Adam wiggles his tongue even further in, and Victor’s skull becomes a cavity filled with nothing but a pile of greyish, useless goo. His breath claws at the insides of his lungs when Adam pulls back only to add one single, investigative finger inside his rectum, which is almost as large as some of the pricks that his creator had sampled during his university days, and Victor wants nothing more than to push back against the intrusion and let himself be stretched properly until he’s stuffed full to the brim, until he has no choice but to beg again for something larger that could truly sate him-
But then, his previous thoughts come back to him with a vengeance, and Victor almost sobs out loud when he realizes that he needs to put a stop to this right now. If there’s one thing he’s certain of, even as addicted as he is to his current predicament, it’s that this is supposed to be Adam’s night, and that there’s nothing that would ruin it for him faster than seeing his creator in any sort of lingering discomfort. He can already see his creation’s guilty eyes as he takes in Victor’s inevitable pain, the horrified masks on his face at the sight of a single stripe of blood on his length, the crushing weight of his remorse when he starts to believe that his desires were, indeed, of a brutal and uncaring nature-
So Victor swallows the lump in his throat and brings his body to a still, ignoring the way his walls are still contracting in a desperate attempt to keep any part of Adam inside of him. “D-Darling-” he calls out softly instead, straining his arms backwards in search of Adam’s free hand, and he nearly sobs in relief when five questioning fingertips come to slide, gently, across his palm. “Dear h-heart, c-come here…” he murmurs again, this time even more sweetly, grasping at the offered digits and tugging them gently towards him. “I n-need you close… closer to me…”
And Adam, once again, listens closely to his creator’s honest request, leaving his pleasant exploration behind with a wet squeak and a terrible sense of emptiness that Victor strongly beats into submission. It takes just another moment for his body to cover the naked expanse of Victor’s sweaty back like a fresh blanket, pleasantly cool to the touch but not nearly cold enough to dampen the joined flames of their desires, and his lips are gentle as they come to caress the curve of Victor’s flushed cheekbone, completely uncaring of the fact that his mouth had been in a decisively unsanitary place just a moment ago.
Pushing aside his own useless averseness, Victor turns around and gives his creation a lingering kiss, before fidgeting backwards to slot his body against Adam’s unyielding line of muscles and find what he was looking for: the unmistakable shape of his creation’s need, brushing against the inside of his thighs, still as hard as Victor had left it before falling under his own spell of lust. With his mind ultimately made up, Victor brings a hand to his mouth and spits into its palm, before bringing it between his legs and hurriedly adding it under the mess that Adam's tongue left behind; his cock twitches heavily at the contact and Adam makes a questioning noise, but all the dissatisfaction and the doubts fall away when Victor closes his legs around his creation’s length, rocking backwards gently to make him feel the tantalizing pressure of his adductors. “L-Like this, j-just so-” he then moans as he feels Adam give a couple of pushes back, first with hesitancy and then with growing confidence, until Victor’s testicles are getting smeared with copious amounts of precome and the tip of his cock slaps on his abdomen at each unrestrained thrust. “A-Ah, yes, yes-s, t-that’s it-”
As Adam groans and whines inside his ear, and the hand that was on his stomach comes to close around both his and his creation’s pricks, Victor just pins his forehead on the mattress and lies down on the shore to let the tide wash him away, ignoring the dust that he’s inhaling with each mouthful of air and the responsibilities that he left at the bottom floors of the manor. All that remains of him is the way Adam’s soft fingers caress his shaft with increasing speed, the way his erection is completely dwarfed in size by his creation’s impressive manhood, and Victor’s last, delirious thought is the realization that he was probably conceived right in this very bed, that maybe now the walls of his cold house will be the witness to a true display of love-
Until his creation’s cries fill him up completely, calling his name over and over, and even the past disappears in the comforting darkness of the present. “Victor, V-Victor, Vic-tor-!” Adam cries, pleads, and begs, hesitant and scared but still so full of that constant, untainted love, his voice laced with the same cadence that he had used when he said his creator’s name for the first time-
And that’s all it takes for Victor’s pleasure to crest over the edge, for his body to seize up and for his lips to open around a broken, honest scream. His semen spurts all over Adam’s fingers and then drips down on the dark comforter, perhaps the last facet of a complicated cleansing act, and a dull ringing echoes loudly between his ears as his head is tilted back just enough to have Adam sink his teeth in his neck again, a sharp stab of pain that somehow only amplifies the reverberation of his pleasure.
With four limbs that can hardly stand up for themselves, useless and spent like a broken doll, it’s easy for Victor to endure a brief moment of overstimulation and allow Adam to come immediately after him with an aborted grunt, wreaking even more havoc on the mattress’ innocent covers and the gentle slope of his creator’s stomach. His post-orgasm dizziness then stretches on languidly as Adam’s halting breath caresses the side of his face, made even sweeter when a cold hand comes to gently scoop his hair away from his drenched forehead, and Victor’s eyes even manage to crack open up a bit when his body is gently guided to lay on its side, still nestled protectively against Adam’s chest and then pinned firmly against it by a strong arm around his waist.
For a moment, the lack of loud noises in the room almost seems overwhelming, at least until Adam lets out a low, but unmistakably pleased purr. The sound only deepens when Victor raises one hand and goes to gently pet the top of his head, awkward with his position but not with his intent, and for a while their bodies are nothing more than a pile of sweaty extremities and words that no one needs to say out loud, two halves of a whole that have found a way to properly slot together at long last.
In the floors under their secluded bedroom, the party is still in full swing, and Victor slowly grows painfully aware that they will both have to get back to it soon, no matter how tempting it would be to stay hidden in this small angle of dark paradise forever. As his eyes grow heavy again, his thoughts turn towards William’s guaranteed panic and Elizabeth’s silent remorse towards his and Adam’s impromptu disappearance, before he wonders briefly about the exceeding rowdiness of the wedding’s guests and the music that still hasn’t reached its highest peak, the servants that are undoubtedly gossiping about the latest scandals and the grounds of the manor wrapped in a layer of silence. Further away, there are valleys and villages that Victor hasn’t visited in quite a while, together with larger towns that he knows only by name, and for a moment the vast scale of his world seems just a little too overwhelming, just like the future that got him so worried during his trip to the estate-
But then Adam tightens his hold around his creator with a satisfied, weightless sigh, as if there’s nothing that would make him more at peace than what he’s holding between his arms, and Victor’s shackles of grief dissipate into a cloud of fine, sparkling dust. His heart is once again made both weightless and bare, protected by the single promise that has been laid upon his lips by Adam’s first kiss, and the rational part of his mind agrees there will be time later for some proper and much-needed talks, for discussion and plans and dreams and many, many more things…
Yet for now, what he truly needs is just within arm’s reach, and all that Victor can see behind his closed eyelids are blue skies and white mountain peaks.