Disclaimer: If I owned X, do think I would let the guys wear so much excessive clothing?
Untitled Fic
by midnightinthegarden
The lights fought back the darkness, covering the city in a false dawn. People jostled each other, not even apologizing as they went on their self-involved way. The huddled masses all wore the soft, slightly dazed expression of cattle being lead to the slaughter. Or so it seemed to Fuuma.
Perched atop a crumbling gargoyle that thrust out from the side of a ruined building, Fuuma blending perfectly into the shadows. He sneered at the unsuspecting populace below him. That's exactly what they were: cattle. Stupid, mindless cattle. Even lower than cattle. Cattle at least knew their place. Humanity, however, held itself over every other living thing. The humans even thought that they were above the Earth herself.
Take this city for example. The last time Fuuma had been here a little over a hundred years ago, gently rolling hills rose and fell towards the horizon. A few trees and a handful of crude dwellings littered the landscape. Even then humanity's taint had begun to corrupt nature's beauty. And now this! Where once flowers bloomed now stood hideous skyscrapers. Where soft, green grass should be was hard, gray concert. The gentle cry of the wind was drowned out by the blare of music and the buzz of traffic. Not even the stars were visible anymore.
To believe that HE had once been one of THEM. Fortunately, Fuuma did not remember much of his human life. His only intact memory was of a blonde-haired woman (his mother?) laughing. Everything else was a blur, for which Fuuma was thankful. The beasts below continued on their meaningless existence of greed and mating. Fuuma wondered if it was stupidity that blinded the flock to the perils of the night. Or the lack of fear was possibly due to the diminishing number of vampires in the world. Or maybe the large number of people in the city assured them that no matter how many were taken in the night it would not be them.
"No use brooding about it," Fuuma thought as he rose to his full height, still balanced on the gargoyle's head. He flicked some dust off his trench coat. Like the rest of his clothes, the coat was black (the pants were leather, of course). Even his sharp nails were painted black. With the grace of a descending angel, Fuuma leapt from the statue to an abandoned alley nearby. With an air of smug superiority possessed only by vampires and certain politicians, Fuuma stepped out of the ally and into the surging crowd.
The vampire made his way down the street. The crowd parted for him like the waters for Moses. A teenager with a lip ring and an "I Do What the Voices in My Head Tell Me to Do" shirt slammed into Fuuma. The kid might as well have ran into a brick wall. The teen landed hard on the sidewalk. "Why doncha watch whe-" the kid started, but one look from Fuuma caused him to stumble to his feet and disappear into the rushing throng.
Golden eyes watched the teen go. "Sheep," Fuuma muttered to himself. Nothing would have given him more pleasure than ripping that punk's heart out and licking up the blood. Unfortunately, he could not even so much as threaten anyone in this large a crowd. Mobs formed over the smallest things nowadays, and Fuuma was not stupid enough to risk his "life" over some nameless punk. He had learned his lesson a long time ago.
He suddenly wanted to get away from the crowd. For some reason, he could not stop thinking about the past and the odd sense of loss he had felt since he arrived in the city. Ducking down a side street, Fuuma began wandering down the forgotten passageways of the city. No one else walked those streets, which both pleased and disappointed Fuuma. He wondered down a labyrinth of identical streets and alleys, not caring where he was going.
After taking another random turn, Fuuma fund himself at the edge of a sanctuary from the cold city. Long stems of grass rippled in the cool night's breeze Delicate wildflowers shone with their simple but infinite beauty. The whole thing was about the size of a baseball field, except that the field gentlely sloped down to connect two opposite sides of the city. The surrounding buildings were run-down and abandoned.
Fuuma was almost surprised when he noticed the young man. The other had been so still and quiet that he almost seemed to be part of the surroundings. Fuuma must have made a noise, because the young man turned and looked at him. The two stared at each other for a few moments, neither saying anything. Fuuma took advantage of the silence to assess the other man. Actually, he was more like a boy, probably only 15 or 16 years old. Wide, amethyst-colored eyes looked out of a sweet, childlike face, and pale skin was set off by unruly raven hair. The boy was also very slender, almost painfully so. Overall, he looked as fragile, and as beautiful, as those wildflowers.
"Did I scare you?" Fuuma asked, his voice oddly gentle.
"No, you just startled me, that's all." The boy smiled shyly at Fuuma. "I thought I was the only one here."
"You were, till a second ago," Fuuma replied. He grinned at the boy the way a lion might smile at a gazelle. "I'm Fuuma, by the way." He held his hand out to the young beauty.
The boy hesitated before taking Fuuma's hand. "I'm Kamui." Fuuma's smile broadened. Kamui's hand was so delicate and pale, like porcelain. So easy to break…
Kamui blushed and pulled his hand back. "So what are you doing here?"
Fuuma shrugged. "Just out for a walk." He cocked his head to one side in a parody of innocent curiosity. "What I want to know is what a pretty little thing like you is doing out at this time of night. Dangerous things lurk in the dark, you know?"
Turning away from Fuuma, Kamui's violet gaze followed the gentle slope of the hill. "It reminds me of home," the boy whispered. Looking over his shoulder at Fuuma, he continued. "My mom and me used to live in a house about twenty miles outside the city. We were kind of isolated, and the house was small, but we were happy. The countryside was so beautiful, especially in spring." The raven-haired beauty sighed, his eyes focusing on a point just above Fuuma's head. "But then some bastard decide that it would be fun to see how fast our house would burn. Mom was home alone. By the time I got there, nothing was left but ashes." His voice caught on the last word. Fuuma waited for Kamui to continue. "Anyway, I've been living with my aunt ever since. Tokiko is nice and all, but sometimes it is just too much."
Silence reigned for a few eternal seconds. "It is human nature to want to destroy," Fuuma said in his silky voice. "All humans seem to enjoy it, but maybe you…"
Kamui started to ask Fuuma what the older man meant, but the boy suddenly found himself lying flat in the grass with Fuuma straddling him. The man was quick; Kamui had not even seen him move. The larger Fuuma easily pinned down the smaller boy. One hand encircled Kamui's neck while the other held down the boy's left wrist. "W-what?" Kamui stammered.
"Sssshhh," Fuuma whispered, his face only inches from Kamui's. That predatory smile had snuck back onto his face. With the swift grace of a bird of prey, Fuuma bent down and kissed the trapped boy. His tongue forced open Kamui's lips and began to explore his moist, warm mouth. The boy struggled fruitlessly against the more powerful man. Eventually, Kamui stopped resisting and laid back in tired submission.
Fuuma began to idly run a razor-sharp fingernail along Kamui's pinned wrist. With sudden viciousness, he plunged the nail deep into the pale flesh. A scream erupted from Kamui and was muted by Fuuma's oppressive lips. Fuuma released his death hold on Kamui's mouth and sat up. He watched the child gasp for air. Beautiful crystalline tears slid down alabaster cheeks. "Why are you doing this?" the somewhat musical voice asked.
In response, Fuuma simply smiled the kind of smile a parent might give a foolish child. Never taking his eyes from Kamui's face, Fuuma brought the wounded wrist to his mouth and began to gently suck it. Warm, smooth blood rolled over his tongue and filled him with the taste of the boy. The vampire's eyes slid shut as he continued to drink.
A choked sob awoke Fuuma from his reverie. His eyes snapped opened and stared down at his prey. Kamui stared wide-eyed at Fuuma. Silent tears trickled down his cheeks. With some reluctance, Fuuma released the boy's arm and let it drop uselessly to the ground. He licked every drop of crimson from his mouth before once again leaning over the boy. Kamui cringed and tried to put as much distance between himself and Fuuma as possible.
"There's no need for that," Fuuma mused. One hand reached out and caressed Kamui's wet cheek. "Believe me, you will thank me for this later." Another devilish smirk grace his handsome face. With deliberate slowness Fuuma licked the tears from Kamui's face, withdrawing a whimper from the boy. "Don't pretend you are not enjoying this. I know you are," Fuuma murmured into Kamui's ear, causing the boy to flinch away again.
Fuuma moved down to Kamui's neck, placing little bites and nips along his swanlike neck. His attentions earned Fuuma a few gasps and another sob. "He makes such pretty noises," Fuuma thought with a chuckle. Fuuma slid his tongue along the rapidly pulsing vein in Kamui's neck. The boy began to struggle weakly again, though all he managed to do was wriggle a little.
No longer able to control his desire, Fuuma sank his teeth into Kamui's delectable neck. A sharp scream quickly melted into a low moan as the vampire began to drink. Fuuma pressed the boy's slender frame against his own and brought Kamui up with him until the vampire was in a sitting position with the raven-haired beauty in his lap. His mouth never left Kamui's neck. A hand snaked around Kamui's waist while the other braced the back of his head. Fuuma eagerly drove his fangs deeper into the soft flesh, earning another moan. Milk-white hands were placed on Fuuma's shoulders and fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. The warm blood still flowing from Kamui's wrist soaked into Fuuma's coat. Fuuma almost purred. They stayed like that for a while; Fuuma sucking hard on Kamui's neck and Kamui offering no resistance.
After awhile, Fuuma removed his fangs from Kamui's throat. The boy looked up at Fuuma with half-lidded and unfocused eyes, and his breathing was barely audible. If left in his current condition, the boy would surely die. Fuuma was not going to let that happen. Kamui was too much fun to play with. Besides, it would be nice to have a protégé, someone to teach and travel with…among other things.
Removing the hand that had been bracing Kamui's head, Fuuma tore open his own wrist with his teeth. He lowered the fresh wound to Kamui's parted lips. The boy did not seem to respond at first, but soon he was gulping down as much blood as he could, instinctively knowing that the liquid was his only chance for survival. Convulsion racked Kamui's body as Fuuma pulled his wrist away. Kamui had already begun to change, though he would not be completely turned until the next night. After the convulsions died down somewhat, Fuuma checked Kamui's wrist. Underneath a layer of dry blood, the skin had healed without even a scar. The first gray tinge of dawn touched the sky as Fuuma gathered Kamui into his arms and rose from the ground.
Cradling his soon-to-be companion, Fuuma turned his back on the dawn and faded into the remnants of the night.
A/N: What did you think? Sorry about all the Kamuis and Fuumas, but if I just used "he" all the time this story would be really confusing. It turned out a LOT longer than I intended. I don't have a title for it either. If anyone thinks of a good one, e-mail me or put it in your review. If you don't have one, at least review. Pretty please? With sugar on top?