Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Inferiority Complex ❯ Inferiority Complex ( One-Shot )

Title: Inferiority Complex

Author: Flamika

E-mail: flamika27 @ yahoo.com (w/o spaces)

Genre: Yaoi, Drama, Angst

Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, but Akito is a bit of a handful and Kureno follows him everywhere so I gladly relinquish them to Takaya Natsuki-sama with the hopes she makes them do illicit sexual things together so I don't have to write crapfic about said illicit activities.

Pairings: Akito x Kureno, Kureno x Akito

Warnings: Graphic sex. Masochism. Brief OOC.

Rating: NC-17

Beta Reader: Fafnir

Notes: I realize I'm taking great liberties with Kureno's character in this fanfic. As of Volume 14 of the manga, Kureno's past is pretty much an enigma to the readers. The sum of our knowledge is this: (1) He's the Rooster of the Zodiac, though we've never seen him transform. (2) He's Akito's constant companion and is rarely ever seen by any of the other Juunishi. (3) At one point, Akito tells him, "I worry about you because you're inferior." (4) He has mutual romantic feelings for Uo-chan (Arisa). As far as the timeline of this fic, everything occurs before he meets Arisa.

Archiving: http://www.geocities.com/flamika27/fb.html

*

His name was Souma Kureno, and he was being punished for the sins of the Rooster.

No one told him the nature of these alleged wrongdoings. In fact, no one ever came to see him, except for Tsunade, the head of the family, a half-crazed, dark-haired beauty with a ribcage so prominent Kureno imagined it would be painful to hug her. He glimpsed her thin, sickly body when she bent to glare at him, and the front of her loosely-tied robe gaped open, exposing small, pale breasts and skin barely covering her finely-wrought skeleton.

With all the natural curiosity of a seven-year-old boy who had never been taught it was disrespectful to stare at people's nudity, Kureno did just that. He openly stared at her breakable body and promptly received a slap across the face for his discourtesy and how dare he gape at her as if she were a freak, and how dare he act like he was above her when he was just a filthy, stupid bird besotted with so many sins that he had to be kept away from everyone lest he infect them with his evil.

And so forth and so on.

Kureno had heard it all at one time or the other. The previous Rooster had done something so heinous that the repercussions continued down the cursed line to Kureno, the current Rooster. For as long as he could remember, he'd been imprisoned in this little house with bars on the windows, a perpetually-locked door, and barely any lights. Tsunade only let him out at New Year's, the only time Kureno was permitted to see the other members of his family. Unfortunately, he really didn't care for the celebration. Everyone intimidated him, even Shigure, Hatori, and Ayame, who were around his age and always tried to coax him into playing with them. Worse yet, Tsunade ordered him to avoid the females, because if he bumped into them, he'd turn into a rooster.

He was a freak, and apparently that was what freaks did.

He lay impassive on the scratchy tatami mat, staring up at Tsunade as her screeching voice once again hammered out words of debasement that kept him meek and broken within the walls of his dark little abode. Oh, how she hated him. Kureno found himself wishing she'd lift one of those feet and kick him hard the ribs. No one else cared about him, but Tsunade at least took precious time from her day to torment him, and if she left him with a little pain, it meant that she cared enough to make the effort to lift her foot and send it flying into his tender stomach.

At least, that's how Kureno saw it.

To his immense disappointment, she didn't kick him. After she was done with her tirade about how she, as the God of the Juunishi, had every right to order him around since she was dying for his evil-drenched soul, she knelt in front of him, lips curled in a tender smile that made her look rather pretty.

"I pity you," she whispered in a voice that always made him think of the knives lying on the tables during meals. "The new head of the family was born two days ago. I hope he hates you as much as I do, you horrid little creature."

After that, she patted him on the head and left. Kureno knew he should be glad she hadn't hurt him as badly as she had in the past, but still, a pat on the head wasn't going to make him remember her.

The sting of her slap faded within a few minutes, and Kureno was sad to see it go.

Years went by. He knew they were years and not days or weeks because he grew. His robes became tight across the shoulders and no longer fell at his ankles, but rather in the general shin area. So, either he was growing, or the robes were shrinking. Despite what Tsunade said, Kureno wasn't so dumb that he thought robes magically shrank without any sort of outside assistance. Human beings grew with time. Robes just got faded and tattered and crusty-smelling.

One day, a child came, blotting out the sunlight that formed a golden pool on the wooden floor of his cage, split by shadowy duplicates of the bars on his window. Kureno was entertaining himself by hopping along these shadows, trying not to let his toes touch the long, sunny rectangles.

When a massive patch of darkness interrupted his game, Kureno just ignored it. The rare few people of the inner circle who knew the location of his cage occasionally came to stare at him out of morbid curiosity, but they never spoke to him, and if Kureno didn't do anything interesting, they usually moved away quickly and guilty, as if they'd been caught gaping at someone naked.

"You're the Rooster, right?" an airy, juvenile voice suddenly asked.

Kureno glanced up at the window and saw an attractive, youthful face staring down at him. At first, he could not discern if it was a boy or girl. It was sometimes hard to tell with children, and he never paid much attention to minute differences between younger versions of the sexes at New Year's. Too many people. Too many colors. Too many noises. Too much for Kureno's mind to take. He usually spent New Year's hiding in shadowy corners and wishing he were back in his cage.

The child blinked large gray eyes at him, long eyelashes dusting his round cheeks. Kureno decided that this was the prettiest person he'd ever seen, and he was going to assume this person was male. If he was wrong, which he probably would be, he would apologize later.

"Tsunade says you have no manners," the boy said as he pressed his face against the bars. He had to be standing on something in order to see in the window. "I guess she's right. It's rude not to answer people once they've asked you a question. I've been trying to come see you for a long time, too."

Someone wanted to see him?

Kureno tried to speak and had to cough few times before he managed to reawaken his voice. "I'm the Rooster. My name is Souma Kureno."

The boy smiled, eyes and hair shining with summertime sunlight, and his beauty was simply beyond the grasp of Kureno's mind. Grabbing one of the bars with his left hand for balance, he slid a tiny arm through the immovable columns, the full sleeve of his expensive-looking kimono falling back to expose a small hand and pale skin that nearly glowed in the afternoon light.

"Come here, Kureno," the boy said, making crooking motions with his fingers.

"Are you going to hit me?" Kureno asked as he walked over, his face level with the bars of the window.

Pale coral lips turned down in a frown. "No. You're not mine yet so I can't hit you. Tsunade gets angry if anyone touches her Juunishi."

The boy patted Kureno's hair, and the young rooster suddenly felt ashamed at how his poorly-fitting robe and neglected hair must appear to this lovely boy. Every week Tsunade escorted Kureno to the baths even if she was hacking and coughing and using a cane to hobble along. However, she hadn't come this past week, and he imagined his hair must feel greasy to the touch. He looked longingly at the boy's silky hair, a shade of black so pure and dark that some areas had streaks of violet.

"Tsunade is going to die soon," the boy said quietly.

Kureno felt his eyes widen, and his heart suddenly dropped to the bottoms of his feet. "Tsunade is dying? Is that why she hasn't come to see me?"

The boy ignored his question. "When she dies, I'll be head of the family, and I'll come to let you out."

The rooster didn't reply. He couldn't stop thinking about Tsunade, about her big feet and bony ankles and crazy eyes and dark hair. She was the only one who ever paid attention to him, and he wanted nothing more than to be with her when she died. An exquisite despair bloomed within him, filling his limbs with warmth even as his mind grew icy with fear. He suddenly wanted to cry.

"What did you do that was so bad anyways?" the boy wondered, abruptly changing the subject.

"I'm being punished for the sins of the Rooster," Kureno parroted what he'd been told his entire life.

A contemplative pucker formed between the boy's graceful eyebrows, an expression that should have marred his beauty, but only revealed a different facet of it. "Oh yeah, I remember. Eleven years ago, the old Rooster went crazy and killed the Dragon. Then the Rooster starved himself to death in the same room you're in now." The boy's eyes darted back and forth, peering at the shadows in Kureno's cage. "Are there any ghosts in there?"

"Not that I've seen," the older boy replied.

"Oh," came the somewhat disappointed reply. Absently petting fingers withdrew from Kureno's auburn hair, and he suddenly found himself choking on desperation.

"Wait, don't leave!" he cried, rushing to the window and looking up into the boy's startled eyes. "If Tsunade dies, who will come see me?"

The boy smiled and reached through the bars to pat Kureno's face with both hands, palms soft and full as they cupped his jaw. "Don't worry, Kureno. I'll come let you out once Tsunade dies, and then you can be my friend."

A friend? Kureno had heard the word before, not fully comprehending it, but anything seemed better than being left alone.

"Okay," he said, folding his legs beneath him and settling on the floor. "I'll be waiting here."

The boy blinked at Kureno's calmly kneeling figure before laughing, a sweetly chiming sound that gave Kureno pleasant chills. "You're weird, Kureno. I like you!"

Kureno felt his face grow warm for some reason, but the boy's dark head had already disappeared from view.

A day passed. Kureno judged the progression of the time according to the position of the sunlight on the wooden floor as he knelt patiently, waiting for the boy.

And true to his word, the boy came. With tears of grief on his face from mourning the death of the family head, the boy awkwardly unlocked and flung open the doors of Kureno's cage, sandals scraping on the wooden floor as he ran up to Kureno's kneeling form and wrapped his feverish arms around the taller boy's neck.

He ordered Kureno to hold him. And Kureno did, letting the boy cry his eyes out into the shoulder of his robe, feeling loved and needed for the first time in his life.

That day was the first time he held Souma Akito, and it wouldn't be the last.

* ~ *

For years after that, Akito and the elder members of the Juunishi reminded Kureno of his inferiority, and though he still didn't understand why he was viewed as a lesser being, Akito's word was law. So the Rooster was inferior, the Rat was exalted, and the Cat was a monster.

The latter two he understood. The Rat of legend was cunning and manipulative, which granted all those cursed with its spirit great worth in the eyes of the God, even if the afflicted was less than willing to accept Akito's divine patronage. The Cat was called a monster because it turned into a deformed beast that stank of death. Kureno didn't particularly approve of the treatment inflicted upon the young and fiery Souma Kyou, but he could fathom the disgust Akito felt towards the creature, maybe because the head of the family spoke idly to Kureno at long lengths about how he couldn't stand Kyou, how he would be happy the day he locked up the Cat forever.

Kureno listened to it all, staring at Akito's beautiful face, soft lips forming such hateful words, dark eyes glinting maliciously in the starlight, filled with the untempered cruelty youth sometimes brings. He took it all in like a drunkard with a bottle of sake, until the spell was broken when Akito realized that Kureno was still kneeling obediently at his feet, and had been for some time.

Sometimes Akito frowned at him, and wondered not for the first time why Kureno was so strange. And Kureno was undeniably strange. He sensed a deformity inside him, something that went beyond just being the Rooster, or having a murderer as a predecessor, or serving Akito more faithfully than the other Juunishi. Akito felt it too, through that innate link that bound the God to his Juunishi. That was why Kureno didn't interact with the other cursed ones except on New Year's, and why Akito rarely even let Shigure or Hatori lay eyes on his precious Rooster.

The hazy perception of his latent inferiority grew more acute when he hit puberty. He found himself watching Akito with an interest that bordered on inappropriate, for Akito was little more than a child at the time; yet, the awareness of such impropriety didn't quell his attentions. He watched Akito grow from a beautiful boy to an equally beautiful young man, his coming of age swathed by a burgeoning darkness that deepened as illness continued to devastate his fragile body. In his rages, Akito's eyes were quick and dangerous, his movements brutally swift, and even in his more placid moments, the promise of pain was there, just beneath that lovely smile, those graceful hands with nails that could and would score tender flesh. Beautiful. So beautiful.

Years of dull yearning escalated to the night Akito discovered it. The deformity that lurked inside the Rooster, evidence of its inferior mind.

Souma Yuki, Akito's favorite torture object, left the main house. Akito was grieved, lonely, and furious. He sent for Kureno like he usually did when he was gripped with emotional turmoil, but Kureno could say nothing to ease the violent unrest in his lord, and when he lapsed into silence, Akito only grew more annoyed. The symphony of agitation rose to a crashing fury that culminated in Akito doing something he'd never had an excuse to do before. He raised a hand and slapped Kureno across the face. Hard.

Pain. Hot and hurtful. Stinging and surreal. Bloody and beautiful. His mind felt clearer than it ever had in his entire life, his loins alive and hungry with longing.

Kureno asked Akito to hit him again.

Very few things could horrify Souma Akito, who had seen more terror in the recesses of his own mind than the world could hold, but that night, he recoiled from Kureno in confusion, caught between disgust and something else at the look of heady desire in Kureno's normally impassive eyes, at the full, slightly-parted lips, and the tongue that darted out to swipe at a streak of cherry red at one corner.

He yelled for Hatori in a panic, and when the servants brought the young intern, Akito frantically told him Kureno was sick, that there was something wrong with him that made him unable to distinguish pleasure from pain. There had to be medicine for it! Hatori had to *do* something!

But there was no medicine for the Rooster's disease. Just like there was no cure for Akito's curse, there was nothing a doctor could do for Kureno. All Hatori did was look at Kureno with sad, helpless eyes as Akito continued to insist that there had to be something that could rid Kureno of his perversity. The previous Rooster had been a murderer, but Kureno was a masochist, an inferior being who thought pleasure and pain were the same thing.

* ~ *

Akito refused to see Kureno for a long time. Kureno knew despair then, and self-hatred, and depression. He couldn't stand that his God was displeased with him. If Akito felt the same enmity towards Kureno's black desire as he did Kyou's monster...Kureno would just die.

In those long days, he came to loathe his nature's flawed design. He now understood why stubbing his toe never hurt in the conventional way, or why he'd felt his skin inexplicably grow hot whenever Akito carried his small whip to the room where he imprisoned the Rat. Kureno hadn't like to think of little Yuki suffering. He wished he could take those lashes instead, feel the hard leather strike his skin in crimson flashes of agony as he cowered in humiliation at his master's feet.

When at last Akito summoned Kureno, the Rooster knelt before his god, head lowered in shame. Shame that made him shiver in a not-entirely-unpleasant way.

Akito embraced Kureno, holding him close as he whispered caressingly into the curved shell of his ear, breath tickling strands of auburn hair that begged for a trim. "I love you even though you're sick. I'll keep you close to me where your evil won't taint the others. I'll take care of you because no one can love you like I do."

Yes. Akito loved him because no one else would. How could anyone love someone who believed pain to be an outlet for sexual release? Kureno felt the truth in Akito's words and wept for the unconditional love in them, and the exquisite despair inside himself.

* ~ *

Despair is an all-consuming thing. Kureno saw several members of the Souma family fall prey to it. From the shadows of the inner circle, he watched Momiji's half-crazed mother beg to have her memory of her firstborn erased, sacrificing her tainted love to Hatori's memory-devouring hands.

Hatori fell in love with Kana, whom Akito grew to loathe with a passion, a jealous fury that peaked the day Hatori asked for permission to marry Kana. Although it wasn't his place to feel such things, Kureno allowed himself to be disappointed in Hatori; he'd thought the doctor was smart enough not to request such an impossible thing. Kana lost her mind that day. Hatori lost his eye. Both gone to Akito. To despair.

Kureno wished he could suffer in their stead. After all, he liked pain, and they didn't.

But it was not to be. All Kureno did was clean Hatori's blood off the tatami mats and soothe Akito's cries that night when he had nightmares about imps eating his eyes.

When he was not attending to Akito, Kureno was left to himself. Sometimes Akito let him go outside the walls of the main house and mingle with the commoners, granted that he returned with a present or a story for Akito. Normal people walked to and fro in large groups, laughing with one another, carrying armfuls of groceries, chasing their rambunctious offspring down the street. They were noisy and colorful and reminded Kureno a little too much of New Year's when he was a child. Fun to watch, but after a while, they became too much for his senses to take, and it was with something resembling relief that he returned to Akito's side.

More often that not, Kureno just sat in the garden, pondering himself into a stupor like he used to when he still lived in his cage. He wondered what it was like to be normal like Hatori or Shigure or Yuki. He would be attracted to pretty outsiders like Kana or Honda Tohru, who Kureno had barely glimpsed during her brief visit to the main house during the winter. Of course, there would be pain in his life, for no Juunishi lived a life devoid of adversity, but Kureno wouldn't crave it like a drug addict. He wouldn't feel bereft without it. He would just be a normal, cursed member of the Juunishi.

Kureno tried to imagine life as an outsider who went to school and bought groceries every week, but thinking about that only upset him. If he were a true outsider, there would be no Akito in his life.

Kureno loved Akito as much as his inferior design allowed him to. Akito's mood swings and volatile temper were a threat Kureno faced everyday, a potential for danger that he didn't think he could live without. Akito was in his mind, in his heart, under his skin. When Kureno thought of pain, he thought of Akito coughing up blood, redness dripping from his fingers. When he thought of rage, he thought of Akito flinging a vase into the wall, the ceramic fracturing into a hundred different pieces. When he thought of love, he thought of Akito curled against him in bed, relying on Kureno's protective embrace to keep the demons away. And when he thought of heaven, he thought of Akito kissing him, fingers pulling none-too-gently on Kureno's hair, harsh touch belying the softness of his lips.

Sometimes, they had sex. Akito's way. Always Akito's way, which involved no pain because didn't Akito already experience enough pain? How could Kureno be so selfish as to request such a thing? Yet, despite Akito's constant insistence that Kureno's love of pain was sick and disgusting, well, there were times when he would acquiesce to the Rooster's inferiority. There was one time in particular, after Yuki was supposed to visit but grew ill and had to remain at Shigure's home. Kureno took the full brunt of Akito's fury that night, and loved every minute of it; every strike of that switch was sheer ecstasy.

He wished he could experience that more often.

Yet, as beautiful as that day had been, there was another instance burned even more fiercely into his memory. The first day he ever contemplated suicide.

Kureno stared up at Akito from his kneeling position, wanting to be touched so badly he was close to trembling. To him, pleasure denied was almost as satisfying as pleasure fulfilled. He had a passing notion to provoke Akito into a rage with the hopes he would become the target, but he nixed that thought. The pain wasn't sweet unless it was given readily from Akito's own hand. After years in the god's service, nothing less would suffice.

Unfortunately, Akito didn't look very interested in anything at the moment, Kureno least of all. Through the open window drifted a breeze laden with the scent of autumn's dying leaves and the faint but sharp whisper of winter. Akito usually fell ill when the seasons changed; the shifting weather patterns shocked his fragile system and caused him to collapse into bouts of fever and chills.

Though Kureno suspected a rash of illness wasn't far off, Akito was feeling relatively healthy this week. He leaned against the windowsill with his arms draped over the edge, the dark purple folds of his coat swallowing his slight frame. Kureno watched Akito idly lift a foot so he could rub his toe against the back of his opposite calf, giving Kureno a glimpse of pale, bare flesh before the foot was lowered, yukata deviously sliding back into place.

Silk rustled as Akito shifted, head turning unexpectedly towards Kureno, dark eyes staring at him over the arm of his coat, luminous and beautiful as always. Kureno met his gaze levelly, wanton desire making him bolder than usual.

Akito stared down at him, indiscernible machinations sliding behind enigmatic irises the color of furious thunder clouds. Kureno continued his subservient kneeling, large hands resting on the thighs of his black slacks, barely able to contain his mounting anticipation as Akito turned slowly, leaning his back against the windowsill, arms limp at his sides.

Kureno found himself staring at a wall of black hair, only able to glimpse the curve of a graceful nose through the curtain of darkness until Akito moved almost imperceptibly, eyes harsh and lacerating as they glared at him from in between the satiny tresses.

"Your eyes look strange today, Kureno," he said, a spark of annoyance unmasked in his voice. "Normally you're so calm and boring. Could it be you're thinking nasty thoughts?"

"Yes," Kureno whispered, feeling shame color his cheeks pale pink.

Akito sighed, and Kureno imagined he felt the expelled air whisper across his skin. "You're such a bother. You're not beautiful like Hatori or Yuki, and you never have anything interesting to say. Shigure always tells me stories, even if he makes up half of them."

"I'm sorry," Kureno murmured, head swimming with humiliation.

"No, you're not," Akito corrected with absolute conviction as he pushed away from the window, bare feet preceding the dragging end of his coat on the tatami mat, every movement speeding Kureno's heart, making his breath come in shallow pants. Akito stopped right in front of him, so close that Kureno, in his kneeling position, could feel the heat from between his thighs, the scent of him just to this side of intoxicating. If Kureno leaned his head forward, he could lick him through the rough fabric of the yukata...

"Look at me," Akito ordered.

Dutifully tearing his gaze away from the easily-parted folds of the yukata, Kureno stared up at his god, foolishly holding the steely gaze, Akito's intentions well concealed behind a lightly contemptuous expression.

A petite foot nudged Kureno's knee, not with enough force to hurt, but he heeded the unspoken demand and parted his thighs without rising from his kneeling position, ankles protesting the odd angle with growing discomfort. Akito knelt in between his legs, silken coat brushing the backs of Kureno's hands like a kiss of the death, cool and soft and irresistible.

He threaded his fingers through Kureno's hair, making sure to scratch the scalp with his fingernails, and contemplated the man before him with a frown. "Your hair and eyes are such an odd color, like they can't decide to be brown or red. It's annoying."

Akito's fingers slid into the longer strands of hair near the crown of his head and gathered two fistfuls, pulling just hard enough to tease him. "Do you love me, Kureno?"

"Yes," he answered breathlessly.

Mild amusement flickered across Akito's face. "And if I said I didn't want to play your little pain-game right now and sent you away unfulfilled, would you still love me?"

"Yes."

He licked Kureno's chin, a hot, wet line that raised gooseflesh all over his body. "Really? How much do you love me?"

"I want to die with you," he confessed.

Akito pulled back sharply, eyes instantly mistrusting. "That was a stupid thing to say. I'm dying so you don't have to."

"No one can love me like you do," Kureno murmured, feeling the ache of despair fill him like blood into a syringe, a surge into a vacuum. "Why would I care to live after you're gone?"

Akito's fingers tightened and loosened experimentally in Kureno's hair, and the rooster held his breath, heartbeat in his throat. Abruptly, Akito smiled, every bit as beautiful as the day his childish face had peered into the bars of Kureno's cage fourteen years ago. For a moment, he looked truly happy, like he did when he fancied one of his cursed ones returned his love for them. Only this time, it wasn't just a passing fancy. Kureno had meant every word of it, and he felt better about himself knowing that he could bring Akito such joy.

Akito's love was the cruelest in the world, but it was perfectly suited for Kureno.

He suddenly found Akito's body pressed against him, feverish warmth and enthralling scent making Kureno's hands spasm on his thighs. "Well," Akito breathed, "it seems you can say interesting things after all."

Kureno just shuddered, overcome with warmth at the compliment.

Darkness slid into Akito's gray eyes. "Give me your tongue," he ordered, voice little more than hiss, fists tightening in Kureno's hair.

Trembling, Kureno did as his master bid him, tilting his chin upwards and slowly pushing his tongue outside the safe recesses of his mouth, the air a cold shock on the wet warm muscle. Akito lowered his face to Kureno's and flecked the tip of his tongue with his own, the motion a blatant mimicry of another, more gratifying activity.

Kureno barely had time to shiver agreeably before lips abruptly crushed his own, applying delicious pressure as Akito suckled furiously on his tongue like a child at its mother's nipple. He felt the harsh scraping of teeth mingled with the succulent touch of Akito's tongue, and moaned wantonly as slender hands left his hair, nails scoring red welts on pale skin as they blazed their way down Kureno's cheeks, over his jaw line, down his vulnerable neck, bypassing the strong ridge of collarbone and ravaging the buttons of his perfectly-pressed shirt, popping them one after another, and Kureno flushed with shame at the thought of presenting another ripped shirt for the servants to sew.

Akito relinquished the harsh suction, pulling back just as a hot trail of saliva trickled out of the corner of Kureno's mouth. He hurriedly swallowed, but Akito smirked and nipped his chin lightly.

"Drooling like a baby. How pathetic," he hissed against Kureno's skin, the words tantalizing his flesh, making him feel as if he were hooked up to a dozen vibrators.

"You're shaking," Akito murmured, pausing to bite the tender skin of Kureno's neck, teeth digging in hard enough to bruise. "Are you cold?"

Kureno tried to stammer a reply, but his mind was having trouble functioning through the haze of pain-yet-to-come. When his silence persisted, Akito reared back and slapped him twice in succession, once on each side of his face, and the stinging bursts traveled the course of his body to pool in his groin.

"I asked you a question!" Akito snapped, face beautiful in his fury.

It took Kureno a moment to recall the question before he was able to force out a reply. "N-No. N-Not cold."

Akito smiled, baring his teeth with deadly grace that made Kureno's head reel. "That's good," he murmured, dragging Kureno's shirt out of his pants and popping the remaining buttons with a harsh jerk. He pushed the fabric down the man's arms, exposing the flesh of his torso and back, smooth and unmarred save for the faint line of scar tissue on his lower back, a reminder of that beautiful night when Akito had been overzealous with the leather switch. That slash of agony and the intensity of the ensuing orgasm had been well worth sacrificing three inches of his back to imperfection.

Remembering that night, Kureno longed for the switch he knew was kept in the bottom drawer of Akito's dresser, but his master was quick to remind him that nails and teeth could serve as a more than sufficient substitute for the harsh leather.

Akito's lips hovered a mere inch off Kureno's chest, breath fanning moistly across the skin as his tongue darted out to daintily lap a pink nipple already peaked with arousal. Kureno fought the urge to squirm, letting himself be teased and kissed with gentleness he knew would be short-lived. Hands warm and clammy with fever stroked Kureno's sides luxuriantly before sliding around to his back, kneading the tensing muscles with the dexterity of a masseuse, causing Kureno to relax involuntarily.

Ten hot spikes of agony suddenly lanced into his shoulder blades as Akito brutally dug his nails into the sleek skin, plunging almost deep enough to draw blood. Kureno cried out at the skillfully abrupt action, his chest jerking forward, straight to Akito's waiting mouth. Teeth encircled a nipple and bit down hard, tongue flecking the sensitive tip while the nerves in the surrounding skin fired wildly, sending flashes of pain out to join the streams of agony raping the flesh of his back. He writhed between the two sources, ensnared by the grasp of such exquisitely painful rapture.

And then it was gone, and Kureno whimpered, feeling bereft until he saw the angry red teeth marks wreathing his tortured nipple like a crimson moat, two of the wells filling with blood. Something wet trickled down his back, a tickling sensation that belied the throbbing half-moon indentation from which it came. Just imagining the marks Akito left made him catch his breath, his erection already pressing urgently against the seam of his slacks, his groin alive with captive heat.

Akito gave him plenty more to imagine as he suddenly raked his nails straight down Kureno's back, tearing harsh lines in the flesh from just below his shoulder blades right down to the waistband of his pants. He didn't know if he was bleeding and didn't care, so swamped he was by the beautiful burn and sting, like hornets plunging their stingers over and over into his skin, impaling the tender layers and pumping him full of their poison.

Akito sank his teeth into the smooth skin of Kureno's stomach, eating his way down to his navel, never applying enough force to break the skin, leaving scarlet marks glistening with saliva, his soft hair tickling here and there like the brush of a teasing feather. His downward motion halted at Kureno's groin, a shameful spot of dampness beginning to darken the fabric, almost imperceptible in the deepening shadows.

"Look at you, Kureno," Akito whispered, planting a teasing kiss on the growing bulge. "I didn't even use the switch, and you're already leaking all over yourself."

Kureno whimpered something, body aflame with disgrace that only tightened the libidinous coils in his abdomen, blood flowing faster down his back.

Akito's hands cupped the shape of Kureno's backside before sliding around to his hips, fingertips teasing the creases on the sides of his heaving belly before lightly scratching his nails over the crotch of his pants, a million tiny vibrations making Kureno's legs tremble. His hands, which had once been fisted in the fabric of his slacks but no longer had any lagging material to hold onto, grasped desperately for something to cling to and found the full sleeves of Akito's silken coat, holding onto the material for dear life.

"What do you think?" Akito murmured, reaching deeper between Kureno's legs to cup his balls. "I think you and I should look at that magazine later, the one with all the toys. You know the one?"

Kureno moaned loudly. He knew the one.

"Maybe we'll get you something nice," Akito breathed into his ear, hand still massaging Kureno's groin. "Some clamps for your nipples, or that set of vibrators you liked so much. A whip. I'd like a whip, you know. I could get one just for you, tie you up with some of those black leather straps and put a blindfold over your eyes so you can't see me, never know when I put those clamps on, never know where the lashes from the whip will fall next. Would you like that, Kureno?"

"Yes!" he nearly sobbed, thrusting into Akito's hand as his twisted mind fed him an assortment of images, all involving pain and leather and whips and screaming until his throat was raw.

Akito laughed quietly and nibbled Kureno's earlobe. They both knew very well Akito would never deign to order anything from the trashy catalog, but it was the despair of having his fantasies remain forever unfulfilled that made Kureno's groans thick and fast, wishing Akito's hand was bigger so he could cup his groin more fully. He was so close to coming in his pants, and he didn't put it past Akito to force him to endure such embarrassment.

But his god was occasionally merciful, and as Akito lapped the tears leaking from the corners of Kureno's eyes, his fingers deftly undid the button of the slacks, sliding the zipper down with the utmost care. As he felt Akito's hand grasp his swollen length and pull him out of his pants, Kureno looked away, regressing to the childish instinct to avoid any sort of nudity, including his own wanton desire.

Akito was having none of it. "Look at yourself," he ordered, fingers squeezing the rigid flesh as if testing its hardness.

Biting his lip, Kureno did as he was told and looked down at where his flushed cock lay in Akito's grasp, pale and slender hands wrapped around the thick, blood-darkened flesh. Fluid leaked from the slit in a steady stream, coating the head and Akito's fingers with glistening wetness. The sight drew a plaintive moan from his throat, which only tapered off into a keening whimper as Akito slapped the side of him lightly before taking him roughly in hand and pumping him.

Kureno finally released the damper on his control and thrust into Akito's hands, hot flesh sliding against hot flesh and making the most delicious friction. This was pain and pleasure and need and everything he'd ever wanted from anyone, and since this was Akito giving him what he most desired, that made it love. And as tears ran from his eyes and his motions lost all sense of rhythm, Kureno despaired that he and Akito were perfectly suited for one another, and they were never meant to be.

He came with a broken cry, clenching his eyes tightly shut as he spilled himself into Akito's hands, his release made all the more intense by the emotions behind it. His body and soul gave and gave until he had nothing left, his hips jerking faintly with phantom undulations. Kureno's legs shook and then collapsed, numb from his foot all the way to his knee. His sex began to soften, spent and satisfied, and Kureno allowed himself to be distracted by the steady thudding of his heart and the contented hum of his body, which derived as much pleasure from the orgasm as it did from the dull ache covering his stomach and back, a sweet reminder of what had transpired.

As the sweat cooled on his skin, Kureno suddenly became aware that Akito still knelt in from of him, hands covered with Kureno's seed, the edges of the sleeve damp and stained. Ashamed, Kureno released his death-grip on Akito's coat and glanced cautiously up at the young man, unprepared for the raw, open look on his god's face, unlike anything he had ever seen before. His chest constricted painfully at the plaintive bewilderment that graced Akito's delicate features, and the realization that he was most likely the source made him feel all sorts of terrible.

However, he also suspected that he was the source of the wash of scarlet staining Akito's pale cheeks, and he felt proud that he could affect him in such a fashion. Emboldened, he carefully took Akito's hands in his, licking the pearly whiteness that coated the palm, taking care to clean every inch thoroughly, drawing fingers into his mouth and sucking until there wasn't a trace of saline bitterness left on them. Akito's breath quickened at the ministrations, but he allowed the man to do as he pleased, not speaking until Kureno finished and tenderly kissed the back of Akito's hands.

"Kureno, how would you die with me?" he asked in a soft, serious tone, voice only slightly thickened by the flush of desire now evident in his gray eyes as well as his blood-flushed cheeks.

Kureno brought Akito's hands to his face and cuddled them, mulling over the question for a moment before meeting Akito's eyes steadily and replying, "I'd take your pain away. All your illness, your suffering, your madness, I'd take it into me and let it use my body until I died from pleasure, or the sheer intensity of your curse simply killed me. The way to death wouldn't matter, as long as I was with you."

He hadn't thought it possible for Akito's face to grow softer, but he glimpsed his god's features in their most tender arrangement for a precious second before Akito was wrapped around him, pressing hot kisses all over his face.

"Oh, Kureno," he sighed into his ear, stoking a new, sweeter kind of desire as he encircled Kureno's waist with his legs, his sex hard beneath the layers of robes, his thighs soft and willing. "Take me to bed."

Kureno did.

Though he knew he didn't possess Yuki's slender grace or Hatori's self-possessed beauty or Shigure's lascivious charm, Kureno was reminded of his own physical allure when Akito involuntarily moaned as Kureno shed the last of his clothes and lay nude in the bed with him. Gentle hands coaxed a somewhat reluctant Akito out of his robes, discarding the soft garments to the side of the bed. Then it was just them together, skin on skin, bodies undulating and twining, simply savoring the gift of carnal touch the cursed ones of the Souma were so steadfastly denied.

Sex itself with Akito was a heady, dizzying experience wrought with a different kind of danger. Kureno had to be careful not to hurt his god involuntarily. Akito no more reveled in the sensation of pain than Kureno enjoyed handing it out. It wasn't Kureno's nature to hurt others, only to reap the benefits of the pain-gift when it was given to him in such abundance as it had been tonight. And now Akito was rewarding Kureno with the pleasure of enjoying his body, something he felt wholly unworthy of.

Worthy or not, Kureno had lain with Akito enough times to know how to properly bestow pleasurable worship upon him. Ignoring the flushed hardness at the juncture of Akito's trembling thighs, Kureno took time to savor every inch of him, from the tops of his diminutive feet all the way to his dampened lips, kissing, licking, and massaging in accordance to Akito's whimpers and gasps. No pain was needed for Kureno's passion to reawaken this time; just the sight of Akito writhing helplessly against his caresses, hands clawing at the sheets, was enough to make him fully hard once more.

When Akito finally had enough, he roughly grabbed Kureno's flushed erection, making the man gasp and cease his ministrations. "In me," he whispered, voice echoing the desire in his wild eyes. "Put it in me."

Kureno made hasty preparations, Akito's impatience fueling his own urgency as he slicked lubricant up his swollen length, the tube soon neglected and lost amongst the twisted sheets as he arranged Akito in his lap, knowing that was the best way to avoid pressing the frailer man into the bed with his weight. Akito was a quaking, needy thing, wrapping his arms around Kureno's neck and holding him close, crying out as Kureno buried himself to the hilt into his constricting body.

Soothing hands rubbed Akito's trembling back as Kureno whispered thickly, "Is it alright? Do I need to stop?"

Akito's muscles tensed, and Kureno's hips jerked involuntarily, making them both whimper. "No," Akito gasped, knees digging into Kureno's sides. "No, it's good. It's good."

Kureno needed no other form of permission. He began slowly and Akito countered his sensuous thrusts, rotating his hips in unwittingly circular motions, rolling Kureno inside the hot sheath of himself, body tensing and releasing like a pulsating heart. After what seemed like an eternity of such torment, their pace lost all sense of deliberateness, becoming harsh and frantic, Akito's breathless voice begging for Kureno to go harder, faster.

Harder. Faster. Kureno's hands grasped the smaller man's backside, fingers sliding to where their burning, needy flesh was moving urgently. He spread Akito wide and hoisted his entire weight into his arms, Akito relinquishing his power with a moan and wrapping his legs around Kureno, gasping unintelligible but beautiful nonsense into his ear.

Kureno knew nothing but the slick, greedy grasp of Akito's body, his ears dimly registering the frenzied slapping of flesh on flesh as he pounded into the tight heat, lowering Akito simultaneously to make his thrusts deeper, sweeter. There wasn't an inch of space between their bodies, Akito's sex hard and wet where it lay trapped between their sweat-slicked stomachs, the intensity of Akito's passionate moans increasing as Kureno felt himself on the verge of losing it, lips open and gasping for air, his senses blind to anything except the lust and desire and longing to be with Akito, to love Akito.

He felt a scream of ecstasy building in his chest, ready to surge from his gasping mouth when Akito suddenly spasmed in his arms and came in a rush of wild abandon, covering their chests with warm stickiness as his teeth sank into Kureno's shoulder, the sharp presence of pain like the crack of a whip on his sensitive flesh, undoing him completely. He cried out and released himself into Akito's willing body, jerking muscles milking the remnants of his control until Kureno felt he could give nothing more. He felt his body go limp, reluctantly descending from its zenith of pleasure, lungs drawing in air laden with the intermingling scents of sex and sweat.

Akito's slack body was pressed close enough to his that he could feel the frantic flutter of his heartbeat, always working so hard to sustain a body that wouldn't live to see the age of thirty. Moist breath buffeted the abused patch on his shoulder in short, sharp pants, making the flesh tingle anew at the sensation.

Carefully, Kureno lowered Akito back onto the bed, taking a moment to savor the sight of those pale cheeks flushed with blood, dark hair clinging to the sweat on the sides of his face, bangs curling in the dampness on his brow. He made a soft sound as Kureno pulled out of him in a wash of fluids that began to seep into the sheets.

Akito watched with half-lidded eyes as Kureno leaned over and pulled out a small towel from the set of drawers on the side of the bed. Towels and clean sheets were always on hand for when Akito had nighttime sweats that soaked his clothes and bed linens through and through. Fortunately, the towel suited other purposes as well. Kureno carefully cleaned them both the best he could, taking considerably more care with Akito than he did with himself. All the while, he felt Akito's gaze on him, not harsh or judgmental, but warm with sexual languor.

Kureno dropped the soiled towel to the side of the bed and was just beginning to gather the sheets to place over Akito's nude body when the head of the family suddenly lifted his arms, holding them open in a rare gesture of supplication. He smiled softly and settled between Akito's still-open legs, reveling in the warmth of the unexpectedly tender embrace while making sure to keep the brunt of his weight off of Akito's frail body. The heat between their bare skin was stifling, but the gentle press of Akito's flaccid sex against his belly was comforting in ways he couldn't begin to fathom. He pressed his nose into Akito's hair and clung to the moment with all he had, wishing he could draw it out and make it last forever. Morning would never come. Akito would never die. Kureno would never be left alone with no one to need or love him.

For once, despair brought him no sense of exhilaration, and it took every ounce of his hastily-rebuilt control not to burst into tears right there in Akito's arms. Fortunately, there were soon other things to attend to as Akito began to shiver lightly, lying naked in the open air as they were. His hands pushed at Kureno's shoulders, and the rooster took it upon himself to pull the sheets back and heap them over his young lord, tucking them around his shoulders in a neat arrangement that was immediately disrupted when Akito rolled onto his side and drew the blankets around himself.

Kureno gazed down at him wistfully for a few long moments before Akito stirred again, glancing over at Kureno's crouching figure with a frown. "Why are you still there?" he murmured.

He dipped his head in a respectful bow, some of his auburn hair sliding into his eyes. "Forgive me. I will leave."

"No, dumb bird," Akito said with a sigh that lessened the severity of his chastisement. "Sleep beside me."

Kureno was more than happy to comply. He didn't look forward to trekking all the way back to his much-neglected home when all his contentment lay right here. He slipped underneath the covers, making sure not to drag any off of Akito, who abhorred cover-hogs. Kureno didn't need so many layers of blankets anyways, only enough to ward off the chill the nights brought nowadays.

Akito patted Kureno's face lightly as the rooster settled himself close enough to feel the other's body heat, but not so close that Akito would feel smothered. A slender leg twined itself around one of his own, and Kureno welcomed the touch gratefully, smiling gently down at the sleepy gray eyes staring from just over the edge of the blanket.

"Put your arm on me," Akito ordered.

Kureno extricated an arm from the covers and loosely cradled Akito's blanket-laden hip. It was the arrangement Akito most enjoyed sleeping in, with Kureno far enough that their combined body heat wasn't suffocating, but with the weight of his arm to keep the nightmares at bay and to remind him that someone shared the bed with him. Akito hated waking up alone.

Akito pulled the blankets tightly around himself, a wince briefly twitching the flesh around his eye. "I hurt," he grumbled.

"Me too," Kureno whispered, all the scratches and bite-marks wonderfully alive with sudden recognition.

"You like it," Akito muttered. "Go to sleep, Kureno."

He leaned over and kissed Akito's forehead, soft strands of hair clinging to his lips as he pulled away. "Good night, my lord."

Akito laughed softly at the title. "You're weird. And twisted. And sick. But I like you."

Kureno flushed with pleasure at the last comment. Those words meant much more to him than a dozen "I love you"s, and the thought that in a few years, he would never hear such words again was almost too much to bear. He wondered if the new head of the family would put him back in his cage once they learned of his inferiority.

Or worse, what if Akito died tonight?

In a sudden panic, Kureno looked down at the delicate young man, taking in all the telltale signs that he was sleeping peacefully. Soft, gentle breathing. Skin warm underneath the covers. Maybe a little too warm. Was he coming down with a fever again? Had he overexerted himself tonight? Should Kureno run for Hatori and keep him close just in case Akito woke up ill in the morning?

He forced himself to calm down. If fate ordained that Akito would die tonight, Kureno panicking wouldn't save him. Kureno hating or loving him wouldn't save him, either. Nothing would.

A half-delirious Akito had once whispered to him, "You were born perverted, Kureno, and you'll die miserable and alone with your sick desires. Just like me. We're both sick, aren't we? We'll both die alone with no one to cry for us."

Back then, Kureno had promised to cry for Akito. Today, he had promised to die with him. He didn't regret either of the vows. Even if the latter wasn't possible, at least not in the way Kureno wished it, the least he could do was keep the one he loved happy for the short time he had left. Despite all the cruel words that spilled so readily from Akito's lips, Kureno knew that Akito needed him. Even Hatori or Shigure didn't make him feel as safe and sheltered as Kureno did.

That made Kureno happy. Despite all his imperfections, the most unlikely person in the world made him feel as if he was worth more than a lonesome bird rotting its days away in a cage. When Akito was gone, Kureno's world would be so bleak. Once unleashed, his desires would not be satisfied with lying dormant and unattended to for the rest of his miserable existence. What he wanted, only Akito could give. What he wanted, he wanted from no one other than Akito.

So when Akito died...shouldn't Kureno kill himself? It was only the sensible thing to do.

Akito flinched sharply in his sleep, and Kureno abandoned his dark ruminations for his self-appointed task of soothing his god's restlessness, readily giving him what solace he could while that inferior, insatiable part of his mind wondered if the horror and pain Akito saw in his nightmares was something it would find pleasing.

Loving you was like

Loving the dead

"Black No. 1"

Type O Negative

-fin

12 July 2004

A/N: This fic was inspired in no small part by Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel trilogy, which totally redeemed masochistic fics for me. The idea of a masochist who reveled not just in physical pain, but in emotional agony as well was just very enticing. Carey's works were the first time I'd ever seen masochism tactfully written, which prompted me to research masochism and to write fic about potentially masochistic characters.