Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Never Goodbye ❯ Every Great Love Starts With a Great Lust ( Chapter 6 )

Every Great Love Starts With a Great Lust

 

This was becoming something of a ritual.

 

The boy, dressed in a smart tuxedo but still very much a boy, winced but showed no signs of letting go of his own hold as he was slammed against the dingy, paint-chipped wall. The moan that escaped his gaping mouth held traces of pain, his hair being pulled tight and his neck practically becoming a chew toy were the sources of current discomfort. He gave a deep growl before pressing against the heated body clinging to him to push the black suit coat off of Ran's broad shoulders to drop to the dusty floor. Hands disappeared to wander the front of his form, drawing a noise of appreciation from the swordsman's lips.

 

“Damn it, don't tease me.” Ran pressed his partner against the wall again to pull his legs up to his waist. When Omi wrapped his arms around his neck he stepped back and moved further into the condemned room above the boat yard outside a busy part of the city.

 

After the surveillance, the planning, the infiltrating, and finally the afterglow of killing a target, Ran and Omi found themselves letting out tension in the shadows of wherever next they had to hide. It had been several weeks of this recreational activity and both boys loved their new after-battle ritual. Tonight all four assassins had to pose as waiters during a posh get-together at a shady tycoon's, Matsumoto Ichijo's, hotel. Millions of dollars might buy the police to keep secrets of human trafficking, murder, and drugs, but if you became a target for the white knights, nothing could stop death from coming for you. Ken charmed his way through the crowd until he finally snuck away to dispatch most of the target's bodyguards. Yohji's job was to find the men and women held captive until their time to be shipped out to their “owners” and kill anyone in his way before getting them to safety.

 

Bombay and Abyssinian had a little more trouble. The youngest kitten once again used his innocent demeanor to get Matsumoto to lower his guard as he brought him his drink before the man would join the party on the first floor. A dart to the thick vein in his neck made quick work of killing the bastard. Just as his muscular body hit the floor behind his polished desk, Omi's smaller form fell into the leather chair to pull up files wanted by Kritiker and to destroy all of Ichijo's security codes for further hacking at another time. When the files were sent to his protected account, voices suddenly came from behind the closed office doors and Bombay could only prepare for what would be a bloody fight as five large men with equally large handguns strapped to their hips enter to get their boss. Without waiting for them to fire first, one man fell with a pained hiss, a poisoned dart protruding from his heart. Bullets whizzed by and Omi was grateful for the protection of the heavy wooden desk.

 

Splinters of wood showered around the kid and he knew at any second a bullet would find him. The sound of the double doors busting open reached his ears, cold steel hissing against its sheath followed and Omi found himself smiling. He couldn't hide forever, and so with a quick and graceful flip, Bombay came to aid his partner. A rain of darts and the deadly precision of Abyssinian's own treasured weapon of choice destroyed the once thought invincible guards of Mr. Matsumoto. Hardly a scratch on either assassin. Before anyone came to investigate the man's absence, Abyssinian radioed his other teammates, telling them he and Bombay had finished their objectives and would meet later. Grabbing the archer, Abyssinian led the way to his escape route, adrenaline pumping through every part of his body.

 

“Oh Ran.”

 

Ran smiled as his lips and hands, body and warmth drew laughter and sighs of bliss from Omi. This was good, this was comforting. Omi let him undress him, blushing even though this had happened many times before. Ran leaned into every caress and kiss his young partner bestowed upon him, showing his appreciation for the hands unbuttoning his own dress shirt and slacks with pecks along Omi's forehead and cheeks. Both only clad in boxers now, Ran eased Omi onto the lumpy bed. There was also a couch off to the side, but neither boy had slept alone for quite some time. With their lust and curiosity slaked, the two killers gave an occasional kiss until only their hands moved up and down the other. Desire, adrenaline, and tension leaving to be replaced with tranquility they only found in each other.

 

“What's up?” Omi asked after he watched Ran stare at him for a few minutes in silence, stroking his jaw and shoulder with a lazy pace.

 

Violet eyes focused on his and his brow furrowed before he relaxed once again. “The way you talk to me Omi, the way you say my name.” Ran smirked at the look on Omi's face when he moved to loom over him, trapping him underneath his bigger body. “It makes me think you love me.” His partner looked away and Ran enjoyed the breathy sound that came from him when he lowered all the way between his legs. “Do you love me, Omi?”

 

Shining sapphire eyes turned to him once more, no fear or worry found within. “I think I do.” Those same eyes almost popped out of his head and he yelped when suddenly Ran grabbed him and rolled over, taking him along and causing him to sprawl against his pale chest.

 

There was silence between them as Ran leaned to grab the blanket and cover their bodies from the drafty room. They settled down to sleep but Omi found he wasn't being allowed to scoot back onto the mattress. Strong arms resisted his pull and squeezed him tighter and he more than willingly laid his head down, listening to the slow breathing beneath him. Omi circled Ran's waist with his skinny arms and placed a kiss to the flesh closest to his mouth, too tired to search out any specific area.

 

Before Ran fell asleep he pushed whispered words past his lips, “I think I do, too.”

 

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This was really starting to get on his nerves. Banging his shin into the tenth tombstone, Omi huffed and flung his hair out of his eyes. Perhaps when they got back to headquarters he could get Gushoshin to trim it. Not hearing anything except for the occasional twig snap told him Asato wasn't having as much trouble navigating in the dark cemetery as he was. His flashlight began flickering fifteen minutes before, about eleven minutes after they had set out on their search. Five seconds ago the cheap thing went out. Damn Tatsumi-san and his budget cuts! Where the hell did they get those anyway? A gas station? Omi stopped his inner bitching when he saw moonlight coming through the branches ahead. The plain eroded stones began giving way to eroded statues. This was the place.

 

Among Nawakaba-san's extensive notes on the experiments, she mentioned an ancient cemetery where “the Doctor” had started it all. When this bit of information was shared, everyone in the boardroom insisted it to be their Doctor Muraki. A chill always ran up Omi's spine when they talked about the man. He had never met him and only because he had pulled up his file did he know what he looked like. It wasn't at all that shocking to see such an angelic man be the cause of so much terror. Such is life. Omi's breath caught in his throat as he broke through the trees and into the clearing.

 

Hundreds of years ago, Christians were persecuted in Japan. Many gave in to the public and converted to the main religion. Yet others kept their faith secret and even made Buddhist statues and relics with Christian influence hidden among the details. Everything about the practice was secret and hidden, like this cemetery. To fool others that would desecrate and harm what they held sacred, a traditional burial ground was made for the purpose of fooling all others. Passed the headstones and alters with incense ash long grown cold, through the choking trees came a clearing, surrounded by the beautiful saviors of Christian worshippers.

 

The Blood of the Saints. Omi wasn't sure if that was the original name of the cemetery, but that was what was scrawled on the scientist's pages concerning the place. A wide circle could be seen from his position and all along the outside stood twenty towering figures. Some looked to be humans, others had gigantic wings, and some were unrecognizable with heads knocked off or faces worn away.

 

Tsuzuki had been adamant about searching the cemetery, the history alone making him positive who was behind the current case. Apparently a weak and dying Muraki had drawn incredible power from the sacred land and continued to use it for bringing the dead to life. Taking another look at the frozen forms, Omi drew in a deep breath and approached the circle.

 

Immediately he knew something was off. The disturbance in the air, the smell of a dusty tomb reopened even though the sky was straight above. Death and deep magic dwelled here.

 

“This is one who will help us.”

 

Omi spun about, glancing this way and that for the source of such a haunting voice. He could not tell the gender; in fact if he had to guess he'd say a masculine and feminine voice spoke at the same time. “Who are you?” Omi hardened his voice, not knowing if friend or foe was speaking to him from the shadows.

 

“Names are not important, our Vessel.”

 

“Vessel? What are you talking about?” It might be too late to run. The young man was already too far from the circle's edge, wandered to the center as he looked about.

 

“You will help us, will you not?” The voice sounded calm, as though his answer meant little to them.

 

“Why do you need help?” Omi took another step and shivered, the air turning frosty and fogging his breath.

 

“The man, Vessel, the dark man. What he has done and will accomplish must be stopped and atoned for.”

 

The spirit sounded very close and Omi spun around. His mouth opened in awe and horror as he now noticed one of the winged statues eyes were opened and staring at him. “I…”

 

“This has gone on long enough, our Vessel. Waiting inside this crumbling piece of art with no power, watching as the Fallen One does as he pleases tears us apart. You will do. You will be under our guidance and protection and you will perform as you are told.” Omi stumbled back, stone lips before him not moving but their words booming in his head. “Forgive us, our Vessel.” With that the statue moved with terrifying speed, grabbing the death guardian, and pulling him close.

 

Omi screamed as heavy wings fell around him and darkness overcame the little light he had. The smell of decay intensified within his prison and as he began to thrash about, stinging pain enveloped him. It was as if several mouths lied upon his body and bit down. Blood dripped down his neck where the statue's head was burrowed and he realized that was exactly what was happening to him. There was pain wherever the creature pressed against him and tears began to flow from his eyes. Another piercing scream and he was dropped to the hard ground, chunks of old rock falling about and on him.

 

“Omi!”

 

Terrified, Omi felt his neck and pulled away to look down. No blood could be seen and he hadn't touched on any gashes. He heard his name hollered again before the sound of branches snapping and running drew him out of his head. Asato ran faster as he saw his partner lying on the ground. He felt such strong relief when the boy moved. When he had heard that scream he thought he might be too late. Omi eagerly grabbed the hands reaching for him and burrowed into the older guardians warmth when he was brought to his feet.

 

“Omi, are you all right?”

 

“I'm fine, just jumpy I guess. The statue fell on me.” He wouldn't let go of his iron grip so Asato held him tighter.

 

“I was so scared. I thought something bad happened.” He kissed the top of Omi's head, half to comfort the boy and half to assure himself that he was okay. “I didn't find anything, not that I expected too…”

 

“Same here.” The chilly air was really getting to him and after that little illusion Omi just wanted to leave.

 

“All right then, `Mi-chan, let's go.” Asato held onto his partner, leading them back to the car they had rented, both shaken from the events of the night. If he had brushed the long bangs away from Omi's golden forehead he would have seen the six-pointed star on it before it disappeared.