Darkiplier x Antisepticeye (Contains Smut)

83.

Anti's little laugh and his words brought a small smile on Dark's lips. He nodded, "Thank you." he whispered. After a short moment of silence, Dark finally spoke up, starting with his family's past (and why taking Anti to his family would be a risk, or just plain disappointment). "So... Before I was born-... formed, summoned, whatever... before my actual mother even joined our family," he started, pausing at times, stuttering a little. "well, so, first off, we were a polyamorous family, my father and two mothers. I mean, both my moms weren't... weren't happy with each other... but... still." he added, pausing for a little while.

Anti nodded softly, listening intently and purring lightly as he stroked his hair, holding him tightly.

Dark found comfort in Anti's arms, and the purring and the sweet aroma kept him calm. "So... The lady my father married first, she was of our kind. She was one of the prettiest in 9th level of Hell. Back then, everyone and every levels of Hell were so... like, like... bonded together, I guess?" he continued. "My father really wished for a child, someone to follow him and lead the kind as he did, to guide them... without a strong a leader, our kind is just like a... a flock of birds with no direction and leader. Just... lost and wandering, no work, nothing. But every attempt was just... useless. Futile. She was infertile, I think, but I don't know- I'm- I'm not sure, I never trusted her... then one day, when devilsand demons from other levels were called for help with punishments, my father... he saw a beautiful demon, a fallen angel. From your clan." he paused and chuckled a little, "as my father said, 'the prettiest woman in all of hell, planets, and heavens'." his chuckle faded away quickly, and continued slowly. "She was a transgender woman. Though she had everything, she couldn't produce an offspring. So... my father decided to perform a ritual, or, er, or a 'ceremony' to 'form' or 'summon' a child instead. With her. Thus, I came into existence; not birthed, but... I don't know what that would be called." he said, and paused again, pulling away for a while to control his shaky breath and wipe his tears away. Dark snuggled back into Anti, "Then, when she came to know about this, she argued with my father and mother as to why he couldn't do the same with her instead. My father had no reply to that. Though my mother had absolutely no hate towards her, she always mistreated her." he continued, his voice shaky.

Anti continued to hold his fiancé, purring softly as he listened. He was fascinated in the fact that Dark’s birth mother was trans, and not only that...one of his kind.
He wiped his tears gently, continuing to kiss his face as he listened. “That’s awful, beau, I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing him tightly and shifting his scent to Dark’s favorite flower.

Dark appreciated the shift in the scent, his chocolaty scent itself being more on the bitter side. "Everything was fine until I was a toddler, but after that... the news of my mother's beauty somehow spread to all levels of Hell. Something no one wanted. It would only bring trouble. It... It did. Some... Some ruler from some level of Hell... I don't remember... Some other ruler tried to set a deal for the 'queen' (Dark's mother) and army men. When my father denied it, they started a war that very evening. Before my father went for the war, my promised him that if they lost, she'd burn herself alive. She would do anything to save our kind's, our family's dignity. And she did. We lost. The enemy soon left when they found out about plan, now that the war was fruitless." Dark said, crying silently, shaking a little. He sniffed, the images he saw as a child playing in his head like a nightmare. It was all vivid. To see his mother run and fall into a pit of fire while Dark called out for her, crying, no one to hold him or take him away from the scene. Dark just stopped suddenly, crying and shaking, feeling a weight on his chest as his breathing got irregular and started to trouble him. He struggled to continue, or even breathe, one of his hands clenched and clutched tightly onto his fiancé, the other one flailing as if he was trying to stop and hold his mother.