Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Never Goodbye ❯ Give in and be Free ( Chapter 7 )

Give In and Be Free

 

This was right. No matter what had happened before, who they really were, or what he had done, this all was so right in his mind. So many things turned out to be beautiful lies, hiding the real foulness beneath, tricks and glamour that fooled him so many times in his life. But this was fact. It was almost lost, destroyed by his own doing, but fortunately things had worked out the one time he decided to not fight against what he wanted.

 

And he did want. Ran could tell Omi was afraid that later he would be discarded, but that was never how he operated. This was for the long run. Sometimes he thought it was all turning to hate because the boy could so easily break him if he only tried. Abyssinian was in love. Things were probably not suppose to happen this way, and he smiled imagining what Manx or Persia would want to do to him if they knew what was going on between them. Ran stopped his train of thought when a sleepy, dreamy little sigh drifted from beside him and he watched as stormy eyes cracked opened.

 

It would have been like any other morning except Omi realized only a warm blanket separated him from the rest of the world, from Ran. A light blush colored his cheeks when he remembered all of what happened the night before. The ache in certain areas of his body made it clear to him that it hadn't all been a dream. Instantly Ran was lowering next to him, he didn't like that he winced.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Omi leaned into the hand caressing his face and put his own on top of it to keep in place. “I'm perfect, Ran.” He had to pull the older boy down for a kiss. The gesture deepened, each tasting the other's soul, but Omi stiffened when Ran's hands moved down to his hips.

 

The swordsman broke the kiss, burying his face in Omi's neck and changing direction of his questing hands to bring him into a hug. “I'm sorry, next time I'll be more careful.”

 

“It's fine. I'm fine, really.” He squirmed a bit, relieving the dull pain that the added warmth was quickly taking care of.

 

“I don't like hurting you, Omi. Ever.”

 

The serious tone sent chills down his spine. “That just can't be helped.” A smile that had Ran raising his brows spread across the young archer's lips. “The only cure for lessening the pain is to do it again.”

 

“Really?” Ran smiled, pulling the heavy blankets almost over their heads and laying as close to his partner without actually climbing on top of him.

 

“Definitely, but not right now. I'm tired.” Omi turned and wrapped his arms around Ran, cuddling close and soaking up more of the delicious warmth trapped under the covers with them. “Just lay here with me, please.”

 

“Nowhere else I'd rather be.” Ran rumbled out as he pulled his boyfriend closer, enjoying the nonexistent gap that usually separated him from the silky skin now against his own. “I love you.” This was all so incredibly right.

 

-

-

-

 

“Come forth, Suzaku!”

 

Omi had turned away from the fight moments before Asato called upon the beautiful god of furious power to help destroy the icy fiend blocking their escape from the underground parking garage. Instead, the young guardian of death trusted his partner's immense powers and tracked down what had made them go down into the dark building in the first place. He knew it was close, all that needed to be done was find and keep it still long enough for termination. The kid's body stiffened and blue eyes flashed as they focused on the darkness before them. Hissing, gurgling breath reached his sensitive ears and Omi held his hand out in a welcoming, warm gesture.

 

The shadows seemed to shift and the thing within shuffled about. A head covered in filthy, matted down brown hair moved from the blackness beneath the stairs leading to the security office of the garage followed by the remaining parts of the shaking, black-shrouded body. Omi dropped his hand down to his side and took a step back as milky brown eyes took in his form. The dead man tried to shriek at the vision before him but his vocal chords had long ago rotted almost entirely away. A smirk found its home on the boy's cherubic face.

 

You remember me, don't you?

 

Omi remembered. Blood so red it could have been black leaking from various cuts and holes, intense pain making blue eyes darken. This thing had taken part in the rape and destruction of his life, his world. The guardian cocked his head, taking in facial features with calm as the zombie shambled toward him. This was one of the first ones to be killed and reanimated.

 

“You were taken how long ago? Two years and three months?” Foul breath stroked his face but the blonde entity only gave a sad smile and raised a hand to glide over a dank cheek. “How painful is it to remain in a decomposing body, kill and do against your will, and be refused your ultimate sleep?” Moldy lips shaped into a soundless snarl and Omi saw the faint light of the now deranged soul behind the man's eyes flair up at the taunt.

 

Twisted, bacteria eaten hands wrapped around each of his small wrists, squeezing the tendons and bones inside, but Omi did not seem phased. He was far from numb, but no pain reached his nerves. Blinding power pumped through his body, setting his soul on fire and speeding his heart up in anticipation. It was time to begin the ending of all this pain for others. Omi stepped closer to the stinking, bug-infested killer.

 

In an almost obscene fashion, the boy pressed against his target, arms slipping in their grasp and moving up to grab hold of the head a foot above his own. A breathy hiss escaped his target and he smiled.

 

I forgive you.

 

“Watanabe Kyo, it is time to break free from the one who keeps you bound to this realm.” Indigo energy flared from Omi's hands and he moved his thumbs over the shriveled brown eyes staring down at him. “You shall be judged accordingly.” A scream, filled with malice, hate, fear, and relief, broke out of the body in his hold. “May you find peace in the great eternity beyond.”

 

Kyo's soul erupted in a beam of lime green light. Omi remained on his feet with his hands locked in place though the expulsion caused car alarms to go off and windows to break. By the time the tortured soul crossed over, he was shaking and sweaty, the body shrinking in his hands.

 

“Omi! What was that?” Asato ran over to his partner. “I saw you with Watanabe and then the explosion.” He stopped and looked half in amazement and half in disgust as Omi dropped a severely decayed corpse on the ground. The boy turned to him, a serene smile on his face.

 

“One of the dark six is at peace now, Asato-kun.” Omi couldn't help the deep drawl of the older man's name or when he stepped up beside him, leaning into his warmth. The use of such power for the first time was having many effects on him.

 

Asato took in the guardian for a minute with a meditative stare before letting his arm slip around his midsection. “You've gotten stronger.”

 

Omi only shrugged, seeming far away in his head. “What help am I to the best if I don't try for my best?” Asato's eyes widened, but before he could reply Omi was again smiling and away from his hold. “I guess that's it for today. Shall we head back to report and send someone for the remains?”

 

“Oh, right.” Asato had to shake himself out of his wariness of the tone Omi had been using earlier. It was as if he was distracted, planning and scheming in his mysterious mind. “Let's go, and then once we're done at headquarters I would like very much for you to go home and rest. I'm exhausted from watching you even!”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

-

 

Moonlight flooded the large living room, pale blue and silver making the reds and golds of the furnishings darker and rich. Everything was expensive and hardly worn, nothing lived in and comfortable. This room was for display, cold even though the colors were warm and a fire was blazing in the great black marble hearth. Lush red roses filled a large vase atop a shining table that stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Anything might be found at the top.

 

Omi was beyond excited. First he had been walking down a tastefully kept street, always at night and making more and more progress as the dream went on. Then the night before, after a two-day absence of the dream, Omi had found himself outside on a doorstep. The door, heavy cherry wood with a golden knocker, would not open no matter the pushing and heavy pulling or the frantic twisting of the doorknob he may have done. Finally though tonight he had been granted access. He didn't want to waste time looking at useless treasures of fine china and original paintings, he wanted up those stairs.

 

Please don't deny me what I want above all else.

 

This place had become an obsession. Where it was he didn't know or care, but tonight he would have his completion. There was something pulling him, something here that demanded his attention; something he knew he was searching for. Reaching the top floor, his bare feet met plush carpet and he turned right without thinking. It was much darker along the hall that had no windows but he seemed to know where to go, and since this was a dream he let whatever unseen spirit guide him along until he reached double doors at the end of the corridor.

 

Upon entering the room Omi first smiled because he was allowed entrance and it only grew wider as he looked about. This was a much more intimate setting. No fires burned within this room yet it was cozy. Intricately woven rugs of the finest thread covered the polished wooden floor and around the fireplace were a sofa, a chair, and some cushions surrounding a low wood and glass table. What caught his eye most of all was the bed. Raised a step up from the rest of the bedroom, the massive structure lay snug against the wall. The four wooden posts were adorned with black and silver silks that matched the pillows and sheets. What caused a small flutter through his body was the shining mirror above it. Black and pale pink pillar candles rested inside and on top of the headboard, he guessed they would be scented with rose and opium oils.

 

With that thought he had to tear his eyes away. Moving across the floor, Omi walked up to the mantle. No pictures and hardly any knickknacks, but the few things found were interesting. A bowl of dried cherry blossoms, a few bottles of mysterious contents, and a knife were all in sight. The last item caught his attention and he ran his hand along the handle. Slender fingers brushed against it and caused it to move slightly. Dark rust colored stains dotting the sharp blade could be seen in the shaft of light from the windows.

 

“Is your curiosity satisfied, little boy?”

 

Omi spun around, not remembering seeing anyone. But then again, he had been very preoccupied. Soft pink lips opened in surprise and blue eyes widened at the sight before them. The man stood tall and proud in the darkness, moonlight reflected bright from his glinting platinum hair. His black dress shirt and jeans did a fine job of showing off his impressive physique, his glasses adding to the unfathomable intellect burning in his pale eyes. Muraki Katsutaka was as intimidating as Omi imagined him to be. The doctor came closer, destroying the distance between him and his uninvited but not altogether unwelcome guest. When he was near enough, he looked over the boy's shoulder and smiled.

 

“Ah, I see. You found my most treasured possessions.”

 

“These?” Omi nodded to the items behind him, surprising himself and his host with his calm attitude. “Out of all the riches under this roof, your favorites are potpourri, bottles of ashes and sand, and an old, bloodied knife?”

 

Muraki gave the boy an appreciative look and then smiled again. “They have sentimental value. Perhaps you should ask Kurosaki-san about the `potpourri' when he gets back, Tsukiyono-san.”

 

“But then he would be sad.” Omi gave a smile of his own. Yes he, Tsukiyono Omi, new recruit of the legions of shinigami, was flirting with the infamous Doctor Muraki.

 

“Oh? So you know about me and my Kurosaki-chan's intimate past?” Muraki took a step closer. This boy was enchanting. Dream world or not.

 

“Lucky guess.” This man terrified him, the darkness in his soul was all encompassing, yet there was also this fascination and admiration swelling inside him that he could not - did not - want to ignore.

 

“Little one,” Suddenly the man was very serious. “You called me here. You have been searching and calling for so long. Now that I am here, what do you plan to do?”

 

“I didn't know I was calling you.” Omi dropped his gaze, feeling embarrassed about the whole situation. This was not what he had been expecting.

 

“Hmmm, that is very rude. Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson on proper etiquette.”

 

Muraki let his cool fingers lift Omi's head. Once again surprise filled his eyes when the boy didn't shy away. He backed him up against the mantle, knowing the marble in his back couldn't be too comfortable and leaned close. There was something about this guardian. Innocence wafted off of him in gigantic waves, but something headier, darker was hidden away and interlaced with the purity. The good doctor hadn't felt such desire and will to break since first coming across the violet-eyed Boy Scout that continued to elude him. Muraki let his power build and push out against the youngster's mind. If he could just see what lurked behind that candy-coated visage and find out what lay beneath. He had just been able to catch a glimpse of his past when gemstone eyes snapped up from shining yellow hair.

 

“You can't look into the Sphinx's mind, Muraki-san. That's cheating.” Slightly shiny lips quirked into a smile and Muraki found himself getting angry. No one denied him entry.

 

“How can I cheat when I make the rules, little one?” Muraki leaned over him, bracing himself on the mantle. “If you refuse to play my way after starting the game, I really must insist on a severe penalty.”

 

“But this is a new amusement, it's not my fault you lack in knowledge of performance.”

 

“Are you challenging me, baby guardian?”

 

“Invitation, challenge, take it however you want, Doctor.” His behavior scared him and Muraki quickly picked up the warring emotions.

 

“What a timorous creature you are hiding underneath all of this arrogance.” Muraki smiled. “And what exactly are you afraid of this time? In over your head? Rejection? Being used and then thrown away?” He stooped next to Omi's ear, placing his hand on the back of his head to keep him from moving. “Or maybe, Tsukiyono-san, what drives your fear is the thought that you want this. I must be on your mind a lot during the day to allow you the drive to unite us during sleep. What I have I would give you. You have but to ask. You have proven your strength, and I must admit it is refreshing to not see you cower. In life it must have felt like a slight nagging at your mind. In death it is stronger is it not? The desire for power, for people to fear and respect you. What your heart really wants is darkness.” Breathing in, Muraki's senses filled with a light flowery fragrance that made his desire fan to almost uncontrollable flames.

 

A more than pleasant shiver ran up Omi's back and he turned toward Muraki, the small red stud in the man's ear catching his eye. “Now you're just trying too hard.” Without much hesitation, Omi licked that small red stud.

 

As if that was an exploding stick of dynamite tied to a dam, Omi was soon covered in a flood of Muraki. Lips latched onto his neck, sucking and licking until they slurped their way up to his ear. Perfectly set teeth nibbled on his ear, a hot tongue lapping at the lobe and silver loop pierced through it. The guardian of death - powers based on light - leaned and squirmed into the attention and grabbed the jutted part of the wall behind him for dearly needed support. Muraki moved his mouth down the middle of Omi's neck, his fine hair tickling the chin above it, and started down the heaving chest. Kisses absorbed through the cotton of his shirt, he shivered when he finally felt the wet lips on a small patch of skin on his stomach.

 

In mock worship, Muraki was on his knees and wrapped his arms about the scrawny waist. The boy's taste was delicious and incredibly addictive. “My beautiful doll.”

 

Sparkling eyes cracked open, only now aware that they had closed and looked down. A steady hand ran its fingers through silky hair the color of white gold. “I'm not yours,” Muraki looked up at him, eyes flashing with danger and raw sex appeal. “And I'm more of a puppet really.”

 

Omi yelped and groaned as he was yanked to the floor, his head knocking against the rug with a muffled thud. However he found his pulse had not risen even as the serial killing angel loomed over his now sprawled position. “Mmm, that is an interesting bit of information, little one.” Silver eyes glanced at the window, the skies were growing purple. Their time was almost up. Turning the boy's face to him, he grew frighteningly serious. “I need to see you again, Tsukiyono-san.” He leaned in and ran his tongue along the boy's smooth jaw line. “If I can't find you tomorrow in the real realm, then in this place we will meet again.” A self-satisfied smile found his lips; they still had a few more minutes.

 

Omi cried out, his body lifting half off of the floor as Muraki moved one skilled hand to a place nobody but one person had dared touch in quite awhile. His smaller hands gripped the man by his biceps, nearly tearing the silk material covering them in his passion.

 

The thing inside him writhed about, protesting from the very beginning what was happening. This was not part of the plan! The Vessel was not weak, why was it allowing such a foul beast to do these things to it? They tried controlling their tool once again and again the foolish, hotheaded boy rebelled, beginning his own exploration of the dark one. A pleased and amused sound came from the demon and they cried in ignored anguish as the two beings of opposite poles fed off of one another. They would have to work on modifying their Vessel's behavior and soon too. Disappearing into the safety of the soul, they wallowed in shame as the body they inhabited enjoyed itself immensely.

 

Omi awoke the next morning, sweaty and sated. Finally no nightmares of flaming red hair and eyes as hard and piercing as raw amethyst haunted his unconscious hours. During his shower, while he worked through his lunch hour, and as his partner walked him home, his mind was on the fact that he could still feel those demanding and generous lips pressed harsh against his own.