[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Walking on Hell
Scribblemoose

Never forget:
We walk on hell
Gazing at flowers

Issa

Interlude - Meditation 4

He couldn't take his eyes off the sword.

Aya tried to concentrate on the willing body underneath him, the strong thighs that gripped him round the waist, the soft lips caressing his, but he couldn't stop himself. His eyes refused to stay shut or to focus on anything but the katana resting in its cradle on the dresser.

"Aya..."

The voice pulled him back, for a moment, for long enough to reassure. He gave Ken a smile, and brushed his dark, sweat-damp hair back from his face.

"Good?" he asked, grinding deeper.

Ken nodded and grinned, cheeks dimpling. "Very."

Aya licked Ken's ear the way he liked it, and moved slowly inside him, forcing his own attention to the sweet friction of Ken's ass around his cock. He leaned down to kiss him, a tangle of slick tongues, soft lips. Ken groaned in pleasure, and when Aya pulled back, he smiled again.

Then Ken's eyes slid shut and his hips rose to meet Aya's thrusts, and Aya bit his lower lip with the pleasure of it.

And found himself gazing once again at the sword.

Another of Yohji's broken promises.

Aya had played that last hour in the Palace of Sheol over and over in his head for almost a year. Most nights in his dreams he held Sena's body in his arms as the life bled out of it; he saw Yohji reborn and free, not as Eszett's puppet but as himself; he relived the triumph of Yohji splitting Tsujii in two with the sword.

For the first six months he had woken from those dreams alone and shaking, Yohji's promise ringing in his ears.

"Wherever you are, I'll find you, Aya."

The night that he heard what had happened to Yohji he'd woken screaming, to find Ken by his side. Still half asleep, Aya hadn't protested when his friend had put strong arms around him for comfort. Hadn't stopped the kisses or the rub of skin on skin.

It was better this way, after all. Yohji had the new life he'd wanted so badly. A new Asuka. No killing, and if there was betrayal, he didn't know it. Better this way.

Ken felt good and tight and safe underneath him, not how Aya had imagined he might be. None of the beserker spirit here, but rather the trusting boy that Kase might have known, and who Omi should have loved. Ken had been good to him.

Aya knelt up, hitching Ken's legs onto his shoulders so he could strike deeper. He ran his fingers over the shiny smooth scar above one hip. The scar that he had put there, a testament to reckless bravery. The kind that Ken showed all the time. The thought of that courage was enough, for a moment, to make the sword go away and for Aya to drag his attention back to the man he was fucking. The lean, strong body and the gentle brown eyes and the quirky smile that begged to be returned. Aya turned to brush his lips against Ken's knee, then let himself be tugged down and kissed.

Ken's eyes slid shut again, the flush across his cheeks deepening as he slipped closer towards orgasm. Aya reached between them to take Ken's cock in his hand and stroke it as he fucked.

Like moth to flame, Aya's eyes were drawn back to sword and broken promise.

Ken cried out as he came, wet and warm in Aya's hand, and Aya let himself fuck harder, faster, finally emptying himself into Ken's body with a cry that tore at his throat. His body took its pleasure while his heart screamed pain, and he glared at the thing that shouldn't be here, that was lost and better lost and hoped for than here and now and real and... and...

Aya wrenched his gaze away and back to find Ken watching him. Not smiling.

"It's okay," Ken whispered. "I know. I understand."

Aya stilled.

"I know you still love him." Fingers were combing through Aya's hair, a thumb rubbing gently across his jaw, soothing.

Aya ran dry tongue over dry lips, and blinked. A tiny part of him wanted to cry. To give himself up to Ken's affection and scream: yes, yes, I love him, I always loved him, like you loved Omi, and now all we have is each other, and it's good and fine and better than alone, but it's not enough.

It's never enough.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile. "It holds memories, is all."

Ken looked up at him, eyes wide and big and understanding, and nodded.

"I know," he said. "I know."