Fandom: Ai No Kusabi
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine. This story is not for profit.
Rating: M
Warnings: Male/male affection
Characters: Iason, Riki, Raoul, Katze
Summary: After Riki's forced return to Iason, he has resigned himself to his fate - surprised to find that black and white begin to blur into shades of grey, and that things are not all they seem to be.
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Riki doesn't know how long he has been hanging around, crouched against the glass door of the terrace outside Iason's study. Katze is hunched over Iason's computer, his pale face overcast by the pallid sheen of the screen. The apartment is blue with cigarette smoke, the ashtray overfull and spilling onto the wooden floor. Riki wonders how Katze gets away with it. The thought stings.
He can't see half of Katze's face that is turned away. Smooth red hair falls over his temples and hides the sharp lines of high cheekbones and a stubborn jaw. Riki knows that Katze's right ear will peek out and that he hates the scar that cuts from his left temple to his chin because it reminds him of things he'd rather forget.
Torn apart and stitched back together like a ragdoll. Iason's idea of fun.
Riki realises that he's been gawking when Katze glances up and meets his eyes. Smoke curls from his nostrils as he stares at Riki. "What's up?" His tone is flat as always, his face blank.
Riki wonders whether Katze can make a grimace at all. "Nothing."
Katze raises his brows and leans back, his fingers stilling on the keyboard. "He's told you, hasn't he?"
Riki plays dumb. "What?"
Katze's eyes narrow. They're slanted, with dark golden irises. The name suits him, thinks Riki as Katze gets to his feet in a smooth, easy motion. "What I was. What I am."
Shrugging, Riki shifts, ready to up and leave, or lash out. He doesn't like it when Iason goes all moody, but at least he has learned to read him. He can't read Katze at all.
The redhead steps out onto the terrace and leans on the bannister to glance down at the bands of light that mark the city road, flanked by soaring facades, gleaming like mirrors against a night-blue sky. He's taller than Riki, slim and sleek. It crosses Riki's mind that he never has any stubble on his chin, and that perhaps he can't grow a beard. Whiskers maybe, Riki thinks as he is trying to imagine Katze with a tail, or maybe nine tails, and he nearly laughs.
Katze flicks the spent cigarette away and smirks at Riki. "Something funny?"
"I wish I had nine lives," says Riki.
No need to explain. Perhaps Katze can read minds. He laughs, tilting back his head. His throat is bobbing. Riki has never seen skin like his, incredibly white and almost flawless, and he thinks that an Elite, people like Iason that think they're perfect, would kill for this, and that maybe that's the reason for the scar. To add imperfection, blatant but not too ugly, only enough to make a point. Riki steps closer. Katze wears his old off-white coat that covers his shape and the handgun he carries in a shoulderholster. Even like this, Riki can feel his warmth. The redhead smells of cigarettes, cheap aftershave and a bit of dank clothes. It reminds Riki of home, of Guy and what will never be the same again.
"How do you cope with... being like that?" he asks before he can bite his tongue. The words pop out, and there's no way of taking them back or pretending they mean something else. Riki waits, ready for a fight, but Katze just stares into the light-littered darkness of the city without blinking.
"Some of my bits still work," he says blandly. "I once read that the body tries to compensate for lost limbs by transferring nerve signals elsewhere. I think it's like rewiring an android. For the rest I take stuff that keeps me... functional. " He sounds like a textbook, but the muscles on his scarred cheek bunch and his hand clenches. Emboldened, Riki decides to feed his reckless curiosity.
"He did it to punish you? Iason?"
"He didn't like the idea of me leaving."
"You tried to leave?"
Katze gives him a smile that's oddly off-center. "I didn't. But I might have. I'm nobody's slave."
"Could have fooled me," Riki mumbles, not sure how to deal with this rather ambiguous answer. He starts feeling raw and doesn't want to think about it. Katze runs his gaze over Riki from head to toe and back up, as if assessing a piece of kit... or one of those brainless fuckdolls the rich like to keep, Riki thinks uncomfortably, not to sleep with but to watch. Pets. Sounds better than slaves, animals. In the end it doesn't make a difference. He tries to imagine Katze becoming one of them, but no, it doesn't figure.
"I know," Katze says calmly. "Iason likes to be certain. Independence and certainty don't go well together."
There's a trace of something Riki doesn't like in his tone. He feels as if Katze is talking down to him, like Iason.
"You're an idiot," Riki says, feeling defensive.
"Sure. But I'm my own idiot."
Right, thinks Riki, and what about me? Loser, that's what I am. And confused. And horny. Jesus...
Katze steps closer. Stubborn, Riki stands his ground, and they end up pushing against each other.
"I can teach you." Katze's voice is low and cool, a tad hoarse, like scratchy wool.
Riki huffs. "You? How?"
The redhead ignores the insult. "There is pleasure in giving," he says quietly.
Riki laughs. "So you gave it all? Man, I'd rather not."
A wry smile passes over Katze's lips. "Well, it wasn't my first choice, but at the time it was my only option. At least I'm no hypocrite."
"Like who?"
"Guess."
Riki stares at him - a challenge, filled with resentment and, deep down, insecurity.
Katze holds his glare. He catches the blow before Riki's fist can smash into his face, and uses Riki's momentum to spin him into a headlock. Katze's lips touch Riki's ear. "Quit struggling or I'll break your arm."
Another tug, an angry snarl, before Riki realises he is stuck. Surprise washes through him - Katze doesn't look like the fighter type - and then a wave of resignation drowns out everything else, leaving him numb. He sags. Katze's grip loosens, changing into something different, almost an embrace, holding him close as they fold into a crouch on the cold tile floor. Katze takes the cigarette from Riki's lips and takes a deep pull, then leans over him to breathe a stream of smoke into his face. Riki turns away and closes his eyes.
"Funny," Katze says.
"What?" Riki mutters miserably.
"How you try to lie to yourself. You're quite good at it, but not good enough."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Katze's hand moves from Riki's neck to his shoulder and down to his chest, covering his nipple, fingertips over his heartbeat. "You want it. You're desperate to tell your lover you're done with him but you think you owe him. Do you need his approval so bad? Why don't you grow up, Riki? That bloke... what's his name?"
"Guy."
Katze's fingers wander lower, stroking Riki's flank. Riki kneels between Katze's legs, his back against Katze's chest, one hand on the redhead's knee, the other one clawing at the cold ground. He sucks in his lip as he feels Katze's lips slide to his neck, teeth scraping over the pulsing artery there.
"It isn't you he's after. It's his hurt pride he wants to mend."
"You... you got no clue," Riki grinds out.
"Don't you enjoy this?"
Riki bites his tongue firmly enough to draw blood. It tastes like sugared steel and makes him want to vomit.
"Iason... he likes a challenge, but he's never been like that before." Katze leans against Riki heavily. He is warm and firm, his touch without hesitation as he strokes lower. "Intrigued."
"I want him to leave me alone. I'm staying because he threatened my mates."
Katze snorts. "And of course, there's nowhere you could hide, right? How well do you know the slums?"
Feeling caught out, Riki keeps quiet.
"Come on," Katze says, rising and pulling him up too. "Finish that fag. We got time before Iason's due back. I'll show you a good one."
xxx