Title: You were always more.
Pairing(s): Iisou x Hakkai
Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just borrow them for my own twisted amusement.
Summary: How the best use of mahjong tiles is a battle of wills.
Warnings: Creepy dead guy, blood play, mindfuck.
Authors Notes: Not to be read with the lights out.
You were always more.
I watch rain as it drips down from the overhang of the cave mouth, sad lonely drops of moisture pooling on the dark rock floor. I allow the minor distraction to consume me for a moment before returning to my creation in my lap, so perfect, one last thing and I can breathe the gift of life into the porcelain doll. I set it down and then send it off to its fateful meeting with Cho Gonou. My lips form a thin smile around the two mahjong counters I keep between my teeth as a slight diversion from the lack of feelings I have now. It's all a game and how skilful one plays it, my father had once told me during one of the rare moments we had together. Alone once again with my thoughts, I lean back my head and close my eyes as memories of a time when we were both alive wash over me. When I open them again, the rain has finished trying to wash the sin off the land of the living. Ah my blessed Gonou, how I should thank you for all the sweet blood you spilled over my clan's floors, for the rage you put behind every cut, thrust and stroke of your knife. Never again will demon-kind underestimate the worth of a human soul or its power ...
I watch as you awaken, my brother in blood, and struggle against the chains that hold your wrists suspended above your head. Watch take in the gloomy, sparse surroundings and with a lowered head quiet down to await the pleasures granted a sinner. As always your body fascinates me, hard planes of sculpted muscle, I must thank all those demons sometime. The scar that I know will never heal-- not with my gift imbedded so deeply--pulses away as a reminder. I run my hands through your sweat-soaked hair and smile, you mirror it back. We are both liars here, Gonou. You beg for redemption, for a forgiveness I am unable to grant. I am in your debt, tied by blood, tied by hate. Beneath our masks we are the same--walking dead. Without the rage you instilled I would never have sought to make my corpse my prison.
It's with a dark smile I take out the first of the mahjong counters, sliding its edge along your skin, watching the small ribbon of blood bloom in its wake. The edge is scalpel-sharp edge so there is little pain; I keep the cuts shallow, tracing out an ancient pattern no longer needed. The clan crest of my father, not that I expect you to recognise it, Cho Gonou, even when scratched into your chest. I lift the counter and indulge in a quick taste of your blood, making a mental note how your eyes follow my every move; the burning desire easy for me, a master of pain, to see. It brings me a hollow sense of joy, as does your pleading to have more done to you. Your cries do little except make me go even slower in the next set of cuts, this time the kanji for sin, destruction and death. These are deeper; more blood flows, leaving little trails before I lap them up like a cat at cream. Sin rests over your heart, death on your right shoulder and destruction on the left. I step back and admire your body, light footfalls around the wonderful specimen you make hung there. No my brother, keep your apologies. You know that they fall on deaf ears, but still we have our part to play in this game.
Completing my circle I once again look you in the eye as my hand touches the still soft beginnings of your arousal, but there are unmistakable twitches. You are bound, my helpless captive, but still you fight to hold onto the mask. Let's face it Gonou, you are a blood-loving monster underneath your skin, why else would you cling to your limiters so desperately? As I slide the bloodstained counter into the flesh of your inner thigh, your hiss of pain rings loud in the silence of the store-room I have borrowed for our reunion.
Our eyes lock and we both exchange that cold smile, the one that never quite melts away the ice we have embraced, for true hatred burns cold and long. Now I choose my second mahjong counter, this one has a more serrated edge to it. Do you know I made this set just for you, my dear Gonou? This time I step around you to work long lines down your back, the toothed edge of the bone tile cuts ragged and deep; clawing at your flesh. You dance to the tune of the pain I play on your back. Cries you can no longer hold back turn to babbling as endorphins in your brain do their job. You make a delightful sight, head lolling, eyes rolled back in your head and cock rigid. It must be all the blood scent in the air, tut-tut Cho Gonou, what would your friends say? Finished with your back, I slide the counter into the other inner thigh. Gripping the very roots of your hair I hold your head up so it's easer to plunder your mouth. The resistance you give is minimal when you're on such an endorphin high.
I watch as you slowly come back down to see that I now hold a third tile in my hand. Waving it in front of your eyes like a cobra, then down to brush against your hard cock, I use the counter to spoon up some of the pre cum and feed it to you. I restrain your head with the hand still tangled in your brown bangs, by the fourth repeated trip you're eager to suckle the treat I offer. A dark smile graces my lips Oh, it's not true happiness, but you bring me the closest to it. And then I pull out a long, thin ivory stick and small vial of liquid.
I get down on to my knees before you, a couple of quick pumps to make sure you're at your peak and ready for me. I coat the tiny ivory rod in its own special fluid from the flask, then cast the vessel aside, its purpose now done. Holding you still by the hip, I place the instrument against your slit, rotating it as I push it inside. No sound is made. Are you holding your breath too? I know I am. We both know one slight slip would bring undesired consequences. Once the rod is fully imbedded within you, so only an inch can be seen sticking out, just enough to for me to flick with a casual fingertip. Ah yes. Now you dance! Only this time you're more vocal as you rock your hips back and forth. The vibrations on the inside of your cock coupled with my hand pumping you, is too much stimulation for your blood-frenzied mind. You spill your seed with such force the rod shoots out to be lost in the darkness, your hoarse voice crying out a name, not mine, but I don't care whose it is. No matter who you crawl back to, Gonou, you'll always be mine, I made you what you are today. I clutch your still-hard cock and stroke it off for the last drops.
Only the shackles you hang from keep you from falling to the floor and only until I release them. I watch your unconscious body drop like a stone into the pool of your own making. It pains me so to have to leave you, but soon one of your well-meaning travelling companions will find you. I leave you as you are, one final gift from me should you not wake before being discovered. What story will you spin, I wonder.
Go to || Home