Gloom

Clarity Scifiroots

Rating: R Content: BDSM-ish, bloodletting, yaoi, surprise: NO ANGST! XD

Pairing: Karasu x Kurama

3/18/02

“I hate you...”

“But you love what I do, itooshi...” was the whispered response. The long, lean form shifted and a hand ran possessively down a long expanse of flesh, reminding.

The redhead moaned softly in his throat, pressing into the touch and biting the inside of his lip. He refused to answer, to verbally give in and say that it was true. He loved this feeling. He loved being possessed.

“Still.” The command was enforced with firm hands. Nails, painted black, trailed patterns on the flesh before them, dancing lightly to graze against pale scars of old and tease the nubs of flesh that rose from the rest of the plane of silky skin. The muscles beneath that skin strained, holding back from moving, to resist the temptation and thus be rewarded because of proper behavior.

The room was unlit. Only faint light from the streets outside filtered through thick curtains to provide a glow in the gloom. For the occupants, however, everything was perfectly clear. It was their element. This world was not their native home, but it had become the place where they had learned to live and how to feel. Only here in this room, this small portion of “home”, had they managed to recover the dark sides of themselves.

Reaching above their heads, Karasu locked the redhead’s hands to the chain that decorated that wall of the room. His hand retreated and ran along the only sheet on the bed that lay beneath them. Easily his fingers curled around the scalpel and he kissed his lover’s neck with a smile when he felt the sting of his fingertip.

“I cry for you, itooshi,” he murmured, bleeding finger rising to the other’s face.

His head laid on Kurama’s shoulder as he watched the human hesitantly accept the red digit. It was still taking him time to get used to the taste, but they had been working on that. Karasu smiled again, always closed-lipped, always secretive or seductive. Eyes closing, he moved his finger to play with the other’s tongue, sharing his favorite taste with his beloved. The blade still lay in his hand and pressed against Kurama’s cheek, occasionally piercing deep enough to cause blood to well-up.

“Enough,” the redhead panted softly, turning his head away.

Karasu frowned at him but didn’t care for discipline for the time being. Instead, he pushed himself up to rest on one elbow while his free arm turned the beautiful face back to him. Brilliant plant-green eyes watched him with a flurry of set hate and desire, but they were not the source of the youkai’s attention. Sliding down the cheek like tears were tiny lines of red. Dark lips descended on the wounds and soon a wet tongue ventured out to lick away the stains.

While bathing the rounded cheek that never quite lost all its childhood, the blade switched hands and Karasu trailed it down the redhead’s body. As it reached Kurama’s hips, their lips sought one another’s again and their mouths meshed again, both stained with blood not of the battlefield. The blade pressed the inside of Kurama’s pale thigh, digging deeper until an opening was made. Karasu pulled back, breathing controlled, and looked down at the body beneath him. He would never ask, and there would never be an answer, but something was always understood, and he continued.

The path downward was drawn out as Karasu trailed his way down with light breaths and occasional nips and licks. All the while his fingers were swirling the blood slowly easing from the puncture. His body folded in on itself when he finally reached the slim pelvis. As had been done times before, he nudged the leg to bend and fold outward, allowing easier access. He descended, lips finally locking on the well of blood. After the first few seconds he made a low sound and nursed the wound, occasionally giving in to temptation and sucking, but never for too long, knowing that the delicate body he handled could suffer from carelessness.

Blood-slicked fingers blindly began searching the smaller body, tracing the way to the entrance to Kurama’s body. Once found, the space was invaded quickly and long fingers traced the passage, stroking carefully but firmly. The blood still flowed between his lips, providing a fresh meal that he had missed for the past three nights, not too long, but long enough to become hungry again. The sensation was already hitting him and his veins sang and his head buzzed, the burst of energy inspiring a high that left him panting brokenly as he finally pulled back and let the leg drop.

His eyes half-lidded, he looked at the pale face of his lover, staring at him, watching him always with a mask of stone but eyes revealing intrigue and hunger. Yes, this one could definitely become the same as he if he wished. Finally Karasu withdrew his fingers and pulled well-muscled legs to curl around his own skinny waist. Pressing forward, he passed through the ring for entry and met the warm passage that knew only him in these days.

“It has come, itooshi.”

All that had been slow before fell away; speed and force coming in for replacement. Karasu licked the edge of Kurama’s jawbone as the redhead’s lips parted and he panted, his body finally allowed to react and press back against the invading force. Their bodies pounded against one another forcefully. With an almost bruising pressure, Karasu bore down on the lithe body and dug his fingers into Kurama’s forearms, letting loose from time to time small animal-like cries that would have made anything but a few youkai cringe in fear.

As the buzz built to its peak, hips pressed together even more furiously. Sweat and blood trailed from both bodies until finally the climax hit and the ride stopped for a moment, energy suspended, until the next instant it was gone with the cries of demons and muscles became lax.

For a few seconds they lay there, still tangled together. Then Karasu pulled himself from the redhead’s depths and fumbled for the key to unlock the handcuffs. He stood after that, replacing the key on a plain side table next to an empty pack of cigarettes and crumpled sheets of paper. The scalpel had found its way back to his hand and he took it with him as he left the room to find his jacket.

Behind, Kurama lay on the bed for a while, eyes closed, as if sleeping. The slight throbbing in his thigh and cheek reminded him that there was something to attend to and slowly he dragged himself up, red hair slipping over his bare shoulders to fall onto his chest. In the gloom he spotted his dirty pile of clothes and refrained from making a face. Instead he dropped his bare feet to the floor and walked to the closet, rummaging inside to pull out an outfit he didn’t mind before heading to the small bathroom.

His black coat was slung over the kitchen counter and inside a pocket he tracked down a pack of cheap cigarettes. His hands were a mess of drying and dried blood but he paid no mind, carelessly striking a match and lighting a small tube of white before sticking the smoke in his mouth and inhaling. Through an exhale he stared at nothing and listened. Right on time, the water for the shower started and he took his cue, moving towards the kitchen sink. He turned the faucet on, routinely ignoring the string of curses that were thrown through the wall.

The cigarette was placed in a tray, resting while Karasu scrubbed his hands and face. Reaching for the smoke, he turned and left for the bedroom. There he sat at the corner of the bed, facing the pile of clothes that had been discarded earlier. His were at least four days old, but he couldn’t be sure. Of course Kurama would want his things washed. At least now he had energy for that, but he hated using this blissful power for something as simple as that. It didn’t matter. Shade was coming over the next day and would take care of it before dragging Karasu out the door and to the recording studio. They were only half way through the CD, after all.

The water had stopped; it was unusual for him not to notice. He reached a hand up to run through his hair, playing with the idea of having it dyed. He fingered a strand, testing its length and feel, noticing that it needed another wash. Who was he to keep track? It was only really important for news casts and public appearances, and there had been a lull in both lately.

Kurama was in the doorway, the light from the hall now turned on and shedding light into the room. Obviously he wanted attention. Karasu eyed him silently, taking in the look of the redhead wearing one of his outfits, a concert one no less. No matter, the youko-ningen looked wonderfully stunning and he had to smirk.

“I’m doing nothing this week.”

“I’ll be here.”

That was their parting, that was their way and their tradition. The redhead turned without a second look back and headed towards the door. Karasu stood, for once following, and asked, “Care for the boots as well?”

Kurama stopped, frowning. He glared, revealing perhaps more emotion than was normal. “They’re too big.” Barefoot and dressed in a fishnet top and a leather-clinging skirt, the redhead opened the apartment door and left.

As the footsteps faded, Karasu realized that he had laughed.

~ Owari ~

Okie, many notes I think since this kind of falls into my idea of Karasu as a rock star.... ;;U_U

1) No, Kara is no the typical vampire you’d think of - not the Dracula, or vamps from Buffy, etc... I went more with the idea of “real vampires”. As in vampirism and bloodletting, etc. If you want more information, let me know and I can give you some good links to check out.

2) As for Karasu’s physical appearance, it should be noted for this fic that he is incredibly skinny ((not like anorexia so, but probably fairly close)), his hair is black ((for now, I do think I want to dye it... ^_^ )), BUT big thing for hair. Totally different cut.. I don’t believe you can just imagine it by my description but hopefully to give you an idea, think of how Tidus’ hair of Final Fantasy X kind of has that stick-out look, very short. Kara’s hair is in three layers ((right on top of each other)) with longest just past shoulders and when styled it is kinda all over the place like Tidus or lovely bleach-blonde Jrock singer Gackt ^_~

3) I don’t know what to say about Kurama and Karasu’s interaction. I mean, it’s hard to say if this is love or not. There’s no definition for love, but I know these two in such a relationship as I have placed here wouldn’t always be considered love. I don’t even fully believe it’s love. I do think there is a strong connection here, though, and something that will lead to love.

Karasu handles Kurama carefully. If you don’t believe me, reread it. Instead of it all going fast and furious without pause and care, Karasu is asking permission before he “feeds”. I know it’s not verbal but that’s what the line ‘He would never ask, and there would never be an answer, but something was always understood, and he continued.’ Because come on, would a dialogue fit there? It’s not for either of their characters. Um yeah, so anyway...

It was by accident that I added the ending part(s). But it fit. Kurama seemed to really want to ditch his old clothes on me and went for the concert closet of Karasu’s clothes >=) heh heh... Now isn’t that saying something? Not to mention, Karasu... laughs. O_O

That’s all the notes I can think of for now. Ja ne.