Loosely based on interpretation of Sigefrid by Lydia S. I wrote this to comfort myself during a deep depression. This was letter-perfect in my notebook, so if I made any errors transcribing it, it's because I've been up since butts-o'clock in the morning to be at the hospital.
Sigefrid wasn't one to profess his love easily. Oh, he loved to flirt, especially with beautiful girls like Serena. How was he to know she'd take it seriously and get attached to him? Then there was the fact that, despite how pretty she looked and how feminine she acted, Serena wasn't exactly a girl, under those long extensions and cute little skirts. She had a nice, round arse and made the sweetest moans in bed, so to say he had been shocked to find a guardian at the gate was an understatement. He'd mistaken her for a virgin when they met, but she'd really just been shy about revealing herself as a (very convincing) drag queen. Then he'd learned that, yes, there really was quite a bit of psycho under that pampered princess veneer.
He wouldn't tell her that he slept better with her in his bed, nor that he enjoyed the way she spoiled him. He wouldn't tell her how much he missed her when she wasn't around or how jealous he was of her other men. He certainly wouldn't tell her that their chemistry had exceeded all his expectations and that he really no longer cared what was under her skirt, he wanted her to get off with him, so could she stop wearing that weird chastity belt since it clearly hurt her anyway?
He was rough and cold, aloof to a fault, and it frustrated him that it made her cry. He could sense there was something she wasn't telling him, and he hated secrets and lies. How could he risk trusting her when she wouldn't tell him what was on her mind?
He'd also noticed how disgusted she was when her men went too soft. She liked powerful, masculine men, and Sigefrid fit the bill exactly. Serena was such a crazy girl that there was no predicting how she'd react if he opened up to her.
Still, it wasn't lost on him that she went out of her way to pamper him and take care of the other men in his club. She was nurturing towards them since she'd somehow got it in her head that they were an extension of him. She was fiercely protective of him and became easily annoyed if anyone dared question him or his leadership abilities. She also seemed to have a desperate need to be accepted by the others even though she'd once claimed she didn't care about them because they weren't him.
See? Crazy. There was no telling where her head was at. But she felt so good in his arms and she was so affectionate with him that he couldn't help wanting her. Deep down, he needed the attention. He could do without the mood swings or the fact that she somehow felt the need to dress and act half her age. He was pushing 50; he didn't need to be seen with some jailbait-looking bitch. Yes, she was younger than him, but not that young, damn!
Her male persona. Sebastian, actually did dress age-appropriately, at least in the courtroom. Sigefrid doubted he could convince Serena to wear a suit, even a women's suit, to look like an adult in her mid-thirties. But he was still tempted to burn every single plaid skirt and frilly pink blouse she owned.
She wouldn't let him see her naked, which made sense, considering. But she was so secret in other aspects that didn't make much sense. At least she'd never yet turned down an invitation to his bed. And, as cutesy as she acted, she had a vicious bloodlust that rivaled his own, and formidable intelligence despite her inability to see more than two feet in front of her. Her lack of perception annoyed everyone, but he had to admit he was glad she hadn't taken anyone's hints-- or glaring neon signs-- that she should fuck off and leave him alone. She was a warm, willing body with fledgling healing powers, a shit-ton of resources, and access to drugs that gave him an amazing high. Best of all, she didn't seem to care what she was to him as long as he let her feed him and warm his bed.
The truth was, he was falling in love with her. He just wasn't ready to admit it yet. And he wouldn't allow himself to suspect that what she was so desperate to hide was that she loved him, too.
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