Title: Reality of a demon.
Authors: Vamp and Jakondas.
Rating: NC-17.
Paring(s): Hakkai and Gojyo.
Summary: Hakkai lays in the dark, thinking about the horrors of the day...
Warning(s): for graphic violence, blood.
Authors notes: This is our first joint effort, we hope you all like it, PLZ comment and let us know what you think! ^_^ For Gojyo's point of view read The saving grace.
Disclaimer: We own nothing but our own twisted minds and the shadow bunnies living there.
Beta: Just us so expect lots of mistakes.
Reality of a demon.
Hakkai stared at the patterns on yet another dull, cracked ceiling as though the answers to the universe lay hidden in plain sight, if only he could unravel their elusive meaning. Gojyo snored quietly beside him, happy in a way Hakkai couldn't understand. What would it be like to know your place in the world, to be so content with what you were and where you came from? Green eyes purposely remained fixed on the patchwork of little lines over their heads, refusing to look at the tranquil face he loved so much, a tiny self induced torment, keeping his eyes averted, and nowhere near as painful as what he felt he deserved.
There had to have been another way to deal with those youkai earlier today. If only he could think of a strategy or something, even now there was nothing. A never ending blank wall in his mind where other strategies should have been. Blood. Blood painting the world in reds as though there was never any other colour in existence. God the Great Maker had created this Earth and the only pen in the box had been crimson, so everything had been shaded in that hot pulsating tone. Why not leave it black and white?
He closed his eyes, but it only made the images vividly worse, more soul damningly intense. Flesh and bone ripped asunder as though made of rice paper, that insubstantial...He would not think of it!
Manic laughter somewhere in the dark recess hidden in back of his mind, an echo from the past. Sudden memory of kneeling before that wretched youkai who had somehow survived his mindless, anguish-driven rampage, compelled to seek revenge against this human monster, who could never be human again. Had he ever been human? It was so hard to remember.
Sanzo had been so motionless, deathly still; laying there like a broken doll, and Goku had been beyond frantic, fear coursing through his veins as he watched the violence play out before him. How long before the Seiten Taisei burst forth and destroyed everything, everyone? Seeing Gojyo, blood still pouring from a shallow wound on his forehead into his beautiful, crimson eyes. It could almost be mistaken for wayward strands of that wonderful, dark hair, but Hakkai knew the difference; could smell the truth. Panic flared, building up inside, knowing that if he didn't do something, fast, they were all going to be casualties; three more people he'd let down, right behind Kanan on his growing internal list of failures.
In the cold pit of his knotted stomach he'd known what had to be done before moving to act, while his mind became paralysed in denial of such horrors. It had been like he was an observer from behind his own hard, smiling eyes. Someone else's will raising his cold, yet steady, hand to the metal clasps wrapped about the outer edge of his ear; the powerful inhibitors that prevented Gonou from surfacing once more. That's how he'd come to think on the matter over recent years, that creature with curling, clinging vines and the deadly claws was Gonou; transformed by his sins into a physical representation of his evil deeds, there for all the world to see. Yet demon or not it was still him, Hakkai had just become a name for him to hide behind, like the two dimensional disguise that was his courteous human form.
He heard the metallic chiming as the first limiter hit the stone floor, but was unaware of the fate of the other two shiny silver cuffs. By then the blind rage had washed over him, flooding every sense and he'd turned to the nearest youkai in slow motion. Quality moment really, where every sound, each expression, even individual scent had all been in hyper focus. He'd watched those alien eyes widen, taking in the true form revealed before them, realising the grave mistake now that it was too late to escape.
The other demon reached out with a clawed hand, had lifted it as though to protect the exposed neck; just not fast enough. A grisly spray of blood fountains out, torn bits of flesh descending wetly back to earth. Each red individual droplet glistening in the light like miniature rubies, scattering around them, almost tinkling as they struck skin, clothing or the floor itself. The smell of death heavy in the air, a combination of copper, salt and urine.
Next foe moving toward him, taking advantage for an attack while the demon killer's attention was otherwise occupied, unaware that seconds elongated, stretching into hours for Hakkai. Too long trapped in the usual dragging time warp of his normal state, released from his prison and determined to take full advantage of this temporary freedom.
Plunging his vine entwined hand through a bony chest cavity, just missing the franticly beating heart, but he was truly aiming for the other guy behind this one, taking both out with the same move, efficiency at its best. Hakkai liked that type of practicality no matter what guise he was in. Three down, five to go.
Flash of purple to the left, fluid sidestep, arm out, glint of nails-turned-talons as he sliced effortlessly into yet another throat. Spin right, booted foot connecting with the dense jaw, dodge a rapid fist, then snap the arm bones. He watched as the youkai hit the cluttered floor screaming in agony, stained porcelain poking out of brown skin. Nearly resting on top of a corpse: the purple one missing his jugular. Blood was thickly flying everywhere now, enough to breathe in like air, taste it on the tongue. Something wet and warm sliding down the side of his face, not bothering to find out just what, not while another enemy is heading in his direction.
Tanned skin wraps this one's bulkier frame, an interesting glint of pink eyes under dark eyebrows. He might have paused to appreciate the view, before he had fallen in love. Can't think about that now. Thrusting his powerful fist forward, feeling the dense skull crack like an eggshell, his long fingers uncurl and bury themselves in something soft; springy texture of what was moments before a living brain as fluid leaks out. All sound is drowned out by the screaming one still writhing on the floor clasping his shattered limb. No time to silence him, ducking under a chair; they're getting smarter, or just more desperate. Having to use his other hand to help release the one deeply buried inside a body, the fragments of bone grazing him as it scrapes the goo off his skin.
Still two unmarked, able-bodied youkai were trying to take him down, too stupid to realize they're facing something truly monstrous, more so than their half-wit brothers on a rampage. Too bad.
They might have survived to see another day, had they fled.
Springing forward, under the wooden chair's arch as it is swung again, catching them both off guard as they attempt a joint attack. Taking out a leg at the knee, cartilage cap bouncing away across the cold stone floor before sticking to earthen tiles, bone fragmenting into shards of shrapnel on contact with the wall, as though it had just spontaneously exploded. A chorus of screams fill the air like broken harpies singing out of synch. His ears drinking up the agony he is causing like honeyed mead.
Rolling across the floor, blood scent stronger here, sharper, making him smile: all pointed teeth and frozen eyes, filled with the promise of more to come. Tacky, damp wetness seeping into his clothes and along his skin is hardly noticed. Foot out at the last second to catch the last idiot in the stomach and send him flying into the distant wall, hard enough to cause plaster to rain down over their heads.
Movement on his right side is acknowledged, glancing over there just long enough to recognise Goku, no longer cradling a too silent monk who is now sitting up on his own, violet eyes dazed.
Flash of metal, the angry hiss of a weaving chain weapon, turning to fully watch as Gojyo quickly takes out one of the fallen ones. Dust bursting outward and catching in the many different sticky fluids about the room. Demon death is never the same, or neat.
Smoke rising languidly from the cigarette protruding from luscious lips, stained from the blood he still hasn't managed to clear away. A darker red smear over one cheek, clinging to twin scars, where he'd tried already and given up.
Eyes still more inhuman for knowing what they'd lost, returned to looking at the mess before him. Still, the one screaming in lone refrain, even as a sharp gunshot rings out and Hakkai knows the one behind is no longer a problem. Taking that last step, making eye contact and feeling the beginnings of remorse returning, even as he stretches out to break that slender neck and silences the last audible accusation of his sins. Knowing that he'd do it again, relishing each moment. That was the truly evil part of it.
A snore beside him, intruding on the memory and he glances at the sleeping kappa. Gojyo is relaxed and comfortable beside this killer he's taken to his bed. How can he be so peaceful, after everything he's seen? Unless that was the answer, as twisted as it sounded. Perhaps with the life he'd led and the monsters he'd known, one more is nothing special?
Hakkai sighed quietly to himself, no closer to the answers he'd been looking for, no longer even sure of the questions themselves. Back to the ceiling and the roadwork map of the universe, a sliver of peeling paint hanging down, curling in the shadows. If those cracks were truly paths he could follow, would they lead to anywhere he might wish to go, or would he be forever trapped in a web of pain and fear?
Gojyo makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan, his tanned arm sliding over Hakkai's chest and the healer realises that he's no longer asleep. Crimson eyes, almost black in the darkness, gaze back at him calmly when he turns his own to meet them. With a dry rushing sound as the red hair moves over the pillow and a squealing of bedsprings, he leans forward and presses warm lips to Hakkai's. Gojyo's finger starts tracing a path down his breast bone, hand flattening to caress more, lightly moving further, over the jagged scar. For an instant peace falls around them, nothing more real to him than the man in his arms and the scent of his spicy shampoo. Feeling his testicles being cupped and then a thumb brushes over them, both men issuing a soft moan at the same time. Such gentleness is not due to a monster like him, surely. Gojyo is always a softly considerate lover, his honed craft at seduction more than just breath stealing. His heart freezes in his chest, and then pounds out a fast tempo, blood rushing in his ears and pooling between his legs. A firm grip encloses his growing hardness and Hakkai gazes back into his lover's eyes, looking for the catch, finding nothing but acceptance, desire and pleasure. Even as Gojyo's fight-scared hand gently works up and down, using Hakkai's own clear droplet-like tears of pre-cum to further aide this act. Together like this, in these quiet moments before dawn, the only answer that means anything is the one Gojyo always gives him: Life.
Hakkai has to wonder if he'll ever work out what the question is and how peace of mind only comes to him when fully immersed in just this man's tight, unwavering hold?