Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Snippet #2: Bishoujo ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: Not mine. Someone else's. Not trying to infringe on any damn copyright. Trust me on this one. The song "Run Baby Run", quoted here, belongs to Deadstar.

Notes: This is all lavender's fault. I'd dedicate it to her, but I doubt she'll want it. Poor Omi. *hugs lav and Omi*

Rating: R. Those with low squick tolerance beware.

Warning: It's not shota, but it does contain disturbing scenes/implications involving (most likely) minors.

He had a yen to stay all night,
he'd hold your face into the light
that's when he could take you out

The floor of the club in the last mission had throbbed -- a heartbeat of music beating against a cage of feet -- but here the floor thought, closing its eyes against the golden lighting in shame. Bubblegum pop music bouncing off the speakers should have created a sunny glow, but each note thickened the air, birthing ghosts flitting across dark corners.

He'd chosen a sleeveless white top for tonight, coupled with a denim mini. His sneakers were pink, matching the glitter streaking his pig-tailed blond hair. Clear lip gloss gleamed on his lips, all the make-up princesses his age needed. Nude and innocent.

Omi beamed at the man beside him, hands held demurely in his lap. Knees together. Quiet giggle as the man teased the end of one of his pig-tails. Ignored the jealous glance of a tulle-clad princess passing by, hate in his hazel eyes -- the man's former favourite.

He rested his head against the man's arm, permitting a blush to warm his cheeks. It wasn't difficult. The position allowed the man to look down the wide neck of his top, to glimpse the burgundy red lace of his bra and the embroidered gold roses. Not so innocent, after all. He could sense the man's breathing quicken, feel slender fingers brushing his wide leather belt.

All the victims had had their hands tied with their own belts. Willingly, at first, lured by promises of cash and the soft hands of a man old enough to be their father. Inevitably, passivity soon turned into panicked struggling.

Omi giggled brightly as he tugged coyly at his top, red lace peeking over the neckline.

One of the victims had worn a belt with a buckle shaped into a rose. The pewter thorns cut into his hands as he tried desperately to escape, ripping flesh almost to the bone. It didn't look like he stopped fighting until he was dead.

The man looked surprisingly benign under the lights of the motel room. No wonder he found it easy to gain the trust of his victims -- who could believe that this man, in his expensive suits, could be a murderer? Omi pretended to look away as the man stripped off his shirt, slowly pulling his white top over his head. Thornless gold roses wove across red lace, showing off his flawless pale skin.

He blushed again.

Smiling, the man knelt before Omi, undoing his belt. The man was naked and half-erect now, freckles on his shoulder revealed as he bent to unzip the denim skirt. He pressed a kiss to Omi's belly, wet and hot.

Silently, swiftly, Omi drove a poison dart into the back of the man's neck. His target fell over with a dull thump, the fast-acting toxin paralyzing his respiratory system in seconds. When the man stopped twitching, Omi pressed his fingers to his target's neck. No pulse.

Mission accomplished. Omi dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt, stuffing his erstwhile clothing in a bag. Neon lights splashed pink and orange across his form as he leaned on the door to the room for a quivering moment, closing his eyes. Then he was gone, a gleam in his eyes almost like a smile.

-owari-

Like it? Hate it? Tell me! ^_^