Songfic; Song used: In Vogue by Drop Dead Gorgeous
Rated M for sexual content, sadism, cutting, dark themes. The sex isn't that graphic, it's mostly just the sadism and overall darkness.
Summary: It wasn't an addiction. It wasn't. It was just a bad habit that needed to be bled out of his system.
Sorry for the bad summary. Some stories's summaries just come to me, others just don't...
Anyway, this didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to, but I think it turned out pretty well anyway. Um, not much to say except I hope it is to your liking and that I love and appreciate reviews! So please review! It makes me a very sad panda when I see all the hits I get for a fic, but so little reviews! So please leave a comment and thank you so much for reading!
PS: The sequel, Sweat It Out,is up! Go check it out once you're done reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Disney and Squeenix own Kingdom Hearts and Drop Dead Gorgeous owns the song In Vogue. Don't sue me.
Bleed It Out
It wasn't an addiction. It wasn't. He could stop anytime he wanted to…
Or at least that's what the tall, lean snowy haired man tried to convince himself as he leaned against the wall outside his closed bedroom door.
Though it was the middle of January, he wore only a pair of black jeans that welded to his skin enticingly, setting off the pale skin of his perfect hips and toned torso.
It's not an addiction…
He pulled out a black lacquer pocketknife from his back pocket and flipped it open, gazing at his reflection in the blade. His face was that of a marble seraph, his wintry eyes were framed by long, thick lashes and feline lips graced his features.
Not an addiction…
There'd be no problem in letting go of this…warped whim, he continuously lied to himself, when he knew deep inside that it would be about as easy as him kissing the barrel of a gun and fondling its trigger.
Letting go is the hardest thing I know
Like this bullet pierces through my skull
The end
It wasn't an addiction. It was merely an itch that needed to be scratched, although many would beg to differ. A perfect example of such an opinion was that of one Sora Hikari.
Sora…
Riku knew what his latest catch thought of him. Those lovely blue eyes said what his mouth couldn't.
How can you live with yourself, you twisted bastard? You're sick…
Sick. Sick. Sick.
Yeah, Riku got that alot, but despite his disgusted thoughts, sweet little Sora came back to him every time, and Riku knew exactly why he did.
Sora thought he loved him. The poor little thing actually thought that if he stayed and succumbed to the pain each night, Riku would actually love him. Riku smirked. How adorable. How adorably pathetic that he stayed for his dream of love that Riku constantly marred with his bloody perversions each night.
I'm a sucker for a happy ending
Interrupted by a nightmare
He laughed quietly to himself as he entered the bedroom; his new toy was already lounging on the bed, also in lacking of a shirt. He was of slight build, and his bronzed skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light. His dark brown hair stood up in all directions and his azure eyes gazed at Riku's approaching figure with a mixture of fear and desire. Riku smirked, tapping his fingers against the rectangular lump in his back pocket as he sauntered over to the bed.
He wasn't the one who was addicted.
He'd show him love all right.
Here comes love…
Chivalry
Wordlessly, Riku snaked his way atop the smaller boy. He propped himself up onto his elbows and stared challengingly into Sora's eyes.
It was not an addiction.
He extracted his pocketknife and smiled a harlequin grin, opening it with a flick of the wrist. He saw the apprehension flicker in Sora's eyes, as the blade reflected in his gaze. Riku quickly leaned down and nipped up Sora's russet neck and placed a persuasively reassuring kiss on his lips that couldn't be denied. He sat up and straddled the brunette, gently dragging the blade across his cheek.
"You ready?" Riku whispered huskily, his eyes shining with maniacal lust. Sora fixed him with what was supposed to be a determined gaze, but faltered almost immediately.
"Yes," he lied, his voice laced with underlying fear. Riku smirked and pinned Sora's arms above his head violently, gently rubbing his right wrist with his thumb. Riku lowered his lips and kissed the intersecting veins that pulsated beneath the thin layer of skin before pressing the edge of the blade to him and letting his lips drift to the brunette's ear.
"No, you're not."
Take a knife to your wrists, make a bloodbath
Cut it deep, it's the new thing
Licking his lips slowly, Riku pressed the point of the blade to Sora's tan flesh until he could almost hear the knitting of the skin unbind and separate. He pressed harder and opened a vertical line of thick, syrupy red, feeling himself growing harder as his eyes watched the progress of the growing gash forming on the brunette's wrist.
"Shit…" Sora shouted as his stomach rolled unpleasantly and his muscles tensed. Riku knew just how much pain this caused the younger boy and just how much he wanted to be quit of it, but luckily for him (Riku), Sora showed no signs of leaving for good anytime soon.
It hadn't been easy finding someone who was willing to do this with him. They were always too afraid or appalled. But Sora had been so easy. Reckless and impulsive to boot, he always seemed to have something to prove. He was young and naive and all it took was a little persuasion and the belittling of his bravery.
In fact, those were Riku's reasons for pursuing the boy in the first place.
Riku usually went for the aloof and experienced. Tall, pale skinny boys in tight jeans with vampiric grins, guyliner eyes and a lust for leather. Sensually grimy and beautiful when bound in chains and bleeding red, Riku had always satisfied his nostalgie de la boue with them.
But he had needed something new, something cleaner to touch, to taint, to break. Nice guys were in this year according to him, and this innocence, this purity, was so new to him, and it aroused him greatly when that tanned angel face contorted into pain and his hips lifted, grinding himself into Riku as the blood began to flow and drip from his wrist.
Flowers of red began to blossom on the white sheets as Riku cut deeper, determined to bleed all the innocence out of him. He had been with Sora for over a week now, and the poor kid still feared the knife. Still feared the blood, still feared him. And Riku was okay with that. He got off on that fear and knew that as soon as Sora had become completely tainted and willing, Riku would instantly lose interest and discard him as easily as he did the others, his mark left on him forever.
He could tell that Sora would cling, would cry. The poor creature was looking for love, but Riku had conveniently forgotten to mention that he wasn't that kind of guy. He just needed the currently appealing boy to indulge him in his latest fetish before he moved on to his next fad.
Baby, please, make this last forever
You're the latest fashion theme
Riku took the knife and slowly cut horizontally across Sora's still bleeding wound. The brunette screamed and swore deafeningly, bucking in protest as another one of his veins was severed. Riku grinned as the four corners of Sora's split skin curled neatly back from each other.
Take a knife to your wrists, make a bloodbath
Cut it deep, it's the new thing
He pressed his pale lips to the pulsating lesion, ignoring Sora's whimpers. He slowly lapped the crimson into his mouth, curling his tongue and letting it pool around his tongue ring. He savored the taste of the hot liquid in his mouth before hovering over the brunette's face, persuading his mouth open with probing fingers. Riku slowly uncurled his tongue into Sora's mouth, feeling that red river run from his lips to the brunette's. He then kissed him hard, a feral growl rolling in the back of his throat.
Sora, sickened by the taste of his own blood, but pleasured by Riku's touch, mewled in a fashion that captured his perverted agony. Riku gripped him hard between his legs, earning a hiss of delicious pain as he squeezed his arousal. Riku pulled away from him and stared at him hungrily, turned on by the blood that was smeared across the brunette's mouth like the lipstick of a common gutter whore.
Yes, he needed this. Needed to rape his innocence. Needed to make him yet another one of his sensual slaves of sin. Mesmerized by the scarlet, he raked his fingernails against the slit skin, the crimson velvet painting his fingertips.
Baby, please, make this last forever
You're the latest fashion theme
Sora bit his lip and practically purred. The pain was unbearable, but under Riku's touch he felt a certain tingle and tightness between his trembling thighs.
But it still hurt. God, did it ever hurt. The pain was all he could think about.
Even when he felt himself stripped of his pants and the contact of their hot, bare skin, the blood in his mouth that threatened to drown him veiled his mind in a scarlet shroud. And even when his twisted lover entered him unceremoniously, and a new agony shot up is spine and rattled his frame, the throbbing from his wrist dulled his sense of anything else.
With a desperate moan, Sora grabbed his lover's hips, needing something, anything, to hold onto. And with each violent thrust into him, Sora held on tighter, his hands clawing their way up and into Riku's back, scarring him with red lines, and spreading the blood leaking from his wrist across the pale plane like paint on a canvas.
And when they finally reached their peaks and released, Sora could only close his eyes and will himself not to vomit as Riku rolled off of him.
Sora was breathing hard now, the swirling sting of nausea and weakness settling into him. He felt the weight of his companion leave the bed and heard him rummage for something in the nightstand drawer. He groaned as the elder boy began to carefully, almost lovingly, clean and bandage his wound. Sora still refused to open his eyes, the tears creeping from beneath his lids and sliding down his face.
When Riku was done, the pale demi-demon crawled atop the weeping brunette again. He lingered over his face until Sora opened his eyes and gazed up at him through a watery haze.
"Are you ready to leave?" Riku asked, just like he asked every night after they were done. Sora could answer him anyway he damn well pleased, but the result would always be the same no matter what.
"No." Sora replied through his weak breath. Riku sneered.
Good boy, Sora.
It was always so much easier when he answered with an affirmative. When he said no, he would leave and then Riku would have to wait days until Sora had suffered enough and came crawling back.
And he always did. And he always would. Because no one left Riku, until Riku said so. No one said no to him…because he couldn't say no to himself.
And no one would be free of this…thing that wasn't an addiction, until Riku had completely bled it out of his system.
Well, what did you think? Once again, the sequel, Sweat It Out, is up so check that out! I'd love to hear what you thought of this one, so please read and review! Thanks so much!
- Starry-NightsXIII