This Is His Devotion (Destruction)

Chapter 2

***

We are at Chapter 2!! 

Not the biggest accomplishment I know, but I struggled so hard with this chapter so I hope all of you like it... It's a bit - just a little bit - short as a result of said struggle.

Leave comments along the way?

I think I portrayed Damian well? Tell me what you think... I'm not sure how I did in some parts.

Everybody's thoughts are loved and adored. 

Dani

***

Once, when Damian was very little, he asked his mother what his father was like. His mother had stared at him for a few moments before slapping him; her nails raked across his cheeks and left torn skin from the sharpness of her nails. Never again did he ever ask about his father.

Now though, he was being dragged by the arm to get out of the carrier so that he could meet his father. Nails bit into his arm so harshly that they pierced his skin and blood welled on his arm. A single droplet slid down and hit the ground.

Damian watched, well more felt, as it rose back up and touched his skin again. It was a weird feeling to have your skin reabsorb your blood, but Damian watched in a rapt fascination as the red liquid disappeared.

Of course his mother didn't notice, far too intent on getting them to their destination in time so that she could rebuild the League without needing to attend to his training session. A distraction, she had said. 

While it was something very much like his mother, it caused a sensation to go through him - it was tingling through his chest and arms, and it made his eyes sting. 

It hurt, Damian had realized, to know that his mother was very begrudging when it came to his care even though he was the Demon Heir. 

"Damian stay here. Put this on." She shoves a bundle of clothes on his chest and he nods.

An eyebrow raises and Damian winces inwardly. "Yes, mother."

"Good boy," she purrs and Damian hides a shiver of repulsion. She saunters out from behind the curtain, her hips swinging in such a way that he knew she was going to attempt another seduction. Though they usually worked because most men were salivating brutes when faced with his mother's mastered seduction.

He changes quickly, stripping off the dirty clothing that was smeared with congealed blood and grime, swiping a wet cloth to wipe his face. His hair was still dirty so he ruffled it, watching as powder began falling.

A quick look in a compact mirror showed that he was presentable, though his hair was now a mess. Damian began brushing it down quickly, hurriedly in fact, only for a pale hand to grasp his.

"Don't," came a smooth voice. "I like it this way. It's cute."

Damian turned to Marinette and raised an eyebrow. "Cute?"

"Yes," she replied. "Cute. It's different from your usual put together look and I enjoy it like this."

He paused before putting away the mirror. If Marinette liked it, then he supposed it was okay. It wasn't terrible at least - just a bit ruffled really. "Okay," he muttered begrudgingly, sitting down next to her.