Princes needed princesses, didn't they?

The thought came to mind when he saw the Vongola mist guardian. She was petite and oh so pale, like the little girl raised in royalty, never having to move from her throne. There was something about her perfect alabaster skin and sugary sweet voice that made Bel shiver all the way up to the tips of his blonde locks. He didn't want to break her open and sleep in her warm insides like he usually did when he found something attractive. He just wanted to touch. He wanted to know what a princess felt like.

She must have felt the same way about princes, he thought. She looked like she had never seen another figure of royalty before, much less touched one. And Bel was selfish. He wanted to be her prince, the one and only.

So when it came time for the Vongola to meet with the Varia again, just a few short years after the ring battle, Bel was ready. He was going to woo his princess. He had dressed for the occasion for once, and held a spindly hand out to the startled girl. Her eyes like ocean waves crashed all over him, and she held her fist tight against her tiny chest. She had also dressed to the occasion, in a dress definitely too short to be fit for a princess. He just had to remove it. But that would be later, he told himself, later. She extended her hand hesitantly, and he could see the shaking in her thin little fingers. The Vongola and their Varia assassins crowded about silently, watching as she finally put her hand in his, soft and tender. Something in Bel sparked, and he was glad his suit hid the goose bumps filtering over his skin. He grinned so wide it was tearing at his lips.

"Shi shi shi," he whispered, "My princess, where have you been?"

Behind his back, he held her crown most cherished.

"Close your eyes, princess."

She slowly slid her large eyes closed, lips quivering in what Bel wanted to think of as excitement. He first touched her hair softly, as to not alarm her, and gently placed the shining metal on her little head. It glistened in the Varia mansion's light, heavenly from crystal chandeliers. Jewels encrusting it matched her eyes as they flitted open. He squeezed her hand just slightly as she stared at him in question.

"Only the best for my princess, shi shi shi!"

He guided her to the sleek tile floor that reflected their white, white figures. And slowly, he crept long fingers to her waist, gripping her with utmost care. She squeaked and gripped his shoulder in turn. They were to be dancing.

One two three, one two three. Lussuria had taught him. And now, as they fell into step, the rest of the Vongola lost interest, having never been accustomed to romance. Bel grinned near Chrome's ear, humming a tune quietly.

"Wh-Why...Why are y-you doing this?" she peeped. Bel laughed and led her in a graceful turn, fingers still caressing her side slowly.

"Because, every prince needs a princess, shi shi shi. Don't you think so?"

Chrome bit her lip. She remembered all those books her mother used to read her. She even remembered the book Mukuro-sama had read her once before. There was always a princess in trouble, and the prince would save her and they'd get married and live happily ever after. If she were in trouble, would he be there to save her?

"...One day, I will be king, and you'll be my queen."

She continued to worry her lips. Mukuro-sama would be angry if she agreed. But she found herself leaning, oh goodness, inch by inch, until her head hit his chest softly.

And so it was done.

Midnight moon made her skin glow, so much of it bare to his greedy eyes. Sprawled on his princely bed, trying her hardest to fight her modesty, she moaned for him to come and get her. And Belphegor, so very gentlemanly, danced with her.

Inside her, he felt different. His princess was so fucking tight and fuck, her warm insides, he could feel it all. His little princess cried out for him, how slow he was going just for her. He didn't want to ruin that sweet figure she held, so beautiful and proper. He would never hurt something so perfect as a princess.

But then he remembered his poor brother.

He had been a prince too hadn't he, Bel thought. And Bel had never seen prettier insides than Jill's. Maybe, maybe his princess was even prettier on the inside.

"Ahh! Ah, oh god! P-Please!" she squirmed and whimpered, being rocked back and forth as gently as possible. Bel kept his thrusts contained, not daring to go any faster in fear of breaking her. That was how you treated a princess.

Fucking do it, do it now, his brain screeched, tear her open and feel it. His lips twitched involuntarily, and he bucked up a little faster in experimentation. Chrome hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him so deeply, Bel could taste everything she had to offer. The flavor brought the goose bumps again, brought the itching of his angry fingers, the need to tear things asunder.

Slow, he had promised her, slow and easy. She had agreed and spread her adorable little legs, virginity ready for the taking. His princess, so sweet. Her crown lay abandoned on the bedside table, her royal robes scattered over the cold floor. Was she still a princess? Only her blood would tell him for sure.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, chomping down on her neck and waiting until the nectar filled his taste buds. She gave a choked cry but stayed still, deadly still, until Bel started to move in her again. She was not afraid. This was her prince after all.

Down, down, down he plummeted, deep in her wet folds and crushing her to his silk sheets. His mouth was crimson with her, tongue falling aside in ultimate satisfaction. He laughed, horrifyingly grating, plunging in and out at a dramatic speed.

The blood of royalty indeed.

She held on for dear life, the sound of slapping skin and squelching liquid (Let it be blood or otherwise) filling her ears to the brim, adding long blessed screams. Her legs lifted higher, nails breaking her prince's skin as he rocked forward so hard her breasts were beginning to hurt. She loved it.

"Fuck!" he laughed, mouth wide and dripping with her blood. Had he been equipped with knives, she'd be cut open all over. But his blunt nails cruised over her thighs easily, breaking fragile skin and unleashing the floods. She hitched her breath and let out a loud moan. This was her prince.

Egging him on, thrusting back when he thrust forward, she was his princess. She knew how to please him. Their hips cracked against each other, as if to get Bel in as far as he could, let him sleep in her warm insides. Blood fell down her wounded shoulder, down her fingers as she burst open his skin as well, pooling in between her legs and fuck, fuck, fuck, you got it, princess.

Matching screams beat back the cold night air and Bel claimed his princess once and for all, coming so quickly inside her she had to follow suit, arching up and down until she was full of his release. Now, in the midnight moon, her alabaster skin glowed an angry red tint under his equally colored body. She tilted her head up, accepting a goodnight kiss from her fair prince, a gentle hand smoothing over red thighs in mock apology. His Cheshire grin hot against her skin, his laugh loud in her ears, and she found herself smiling most sincerely.

Happily ever after.