A/N: I haven't played Skyward Sword yet, and I know it isn't canon, but I'm not a canon-Nazi so I don't care. This story is dark themed and contains elements that most people might not be comfortable with. If you don't think you can handle it, DON'T READ.
"You're not the sky child, but you'll do I suppose."
Ghirahim's tongue licked around his lips, as he was present with a person that strangely mirrored the dirty-blonde boy from Skyloft; they both had the same lithe body, with lean muscles, the same fluffy and silken texture of hair, and the same facial features that weren't too rounded and chub, nor too sharp and narrow.
But this one's eyes were much more appealing to Ghirahim. This one's eyes were the color of blood, and contained within them a lust for violence and murder that Ghirahim found challenging.
"Oh really?" grinned the pale boy. He didn't have the same slightly toned skin, though. His skin was as pale as Ghirahim's white lips. He did, however, reflect the sky child's age exactly, somewhere in his teens, Ghirahim guessed. "What would that be for, exactly?"
"I've been angered, a bit," Ghirahim purred, stalking slowly around the black haired teenager. "And I need someone to take it out on."
"Oh, how rude," sneered Dark. "Me, only a child." His canines flashed brilliantly with his fake smile.
There was a blur of whiteness and geometric shapes, and Dark found Ghirahim pressed against him, hands on Dark's shoulders, his mouth at his hear.
"Who says I wanted to beat you?" Ghriahim whispered. His tongue lolled across Dark's ear, elliciting a snarl from the shadow. Dark twisted around, his ebony sword in hand, but was met with empty air. He felt the body of the Demon Lord pressed against his back again.
"My, my. You sure are a fiery little thing, boy."
Mid-turn, in an attempt to drive his sword through Ghirahim, he felt his wrists snatched roughly; his one hand was pinned to Ghirahim's chest, while the one grasping the sword was held mid-air between the two demons.
Dark glared at the white haired demon, teeth gritted. "Let go of me!" he barked.
"I don't think so," smiled the assailant, using his grip on Dark's wrist to toss his sword across the room. Dark cursed loudly, flailing underneath the icy grip.
"Now, now..." Ghirahim murmured, spinning Dark around in a sickeningly quick fashion, making him light-headed, pressing the shadow against his chest. "Let's have some fun with this, yes?"
Heat crawled into Dark's cheeks, but he spat, "Let me go, you creep!"
"Don't hurt my feelings now. I might have to hurt something of yours."
With those words, Dark felt the weight of both of them crash to the floor, driving the breath out of his lungs. Ghirahim smirked down at him dangerously, as Dark coughed, trying to inhale.
He snapped his fingers, producing a sword. He pointed the blade at Dark's neck, his grin widening as Dark's eyes mimicked.
"This should be rather fun," he said, almost cheerfully. After he had flipped Dark onto his stomach in another rapid blur, he brought Dark's hands above his head, and, raising the sword high, drove the blade between the tops of both of the shadow's hands. His scream reverberated off the walls, and the scent of blood plunged Ghirahim into ecstacy.
"Just to be sure you won't move."
"Let me go!" Dark demanded shakily, his head tilted to the side so he could be heard, a few tears brimming in his eyes. He cursed himself for allowing himself to acknowledge pain in front of this man.
"Shh. Not yet, shadow demon," he crooned, beginning to remove the leggings under the boy's tunic. Dark tried thrashing about, but only cried out as the sword dug deeper into the flesh of his pierced hands. Unless he wanted to lose them, there was no way he could move.
The leggings were removed, and Dark was left to shiver at the sudden chill that engulfed his body.
"Stop!" Dark screamed, more hot tears leaking from his face. He bit back the sobs bitterly.
"Oh, shadow demon. I thought you'd be less weak than this," Ghirahim frowned, unsatisfied with how easily upset the shadow was becoming. "I expected more of a fight."
"I can't move my hands!" groaned Dark, the ache still traveling from the wounds to his fingertips, down to his elbows, and back up again. The words only infuriated him more, as he attempted so hard to remain un-affected.
"I can't imagine why?" Ghirahim straddled the shadow's back, playing with strands of his charcoal hair.
"Get off!" Dark commanded again, his voice wavering slightly, pleading inwardly that the demon lord didn't notice it, too.
But of course, he did.
"You are so frightened, and I love it so much."
He brought his face to Dark's ear, and licked it thoroughly, feeling a blush creep into the skin of the boy beneath him. His tongue roamed to his cheek, prodding the sides of Dark's mouth. Using one hand, Ghirahim let his hand grab Dark's exposed ass, and when the boy gasped, let his tongue delve into his mouth, flicking it about and wrestling with the other's tongue.
Dark choked back a cry, hips bucking instinctively. His self control was rupturing hastily. This, Ghirahim noticed too, and intended to take full advantage of.
"Oh, so you do like this, Dark?"
"No!" Dark hissed, bowing his head between his elbows.
Reaching underneath the boy, the man clad in white grabbed Dark's erect length, drawing out another moan from him.
"Really? Your cock says otherwise..." Ghirahim wasted no time in pumping Dark's appendage, loving how Dark both tried not to thrust into the movement, yet did so at the same time.
"I can turn your body, mind, and soul against each other in a heartbeat, boy. You haven't got a chance against me."
Ghirahim lifted under Dark's hips, hoisting him up so that his back arched into the air, ass at a perfect angle. The sword strained on the shadow's hands, provoking another choked cry.
Grinning sadistically, Ghirahim declared, "I'll make this affair so excruciating, you'll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams!"
Before Dark could prepare himself, he felt the hips of the demon lord thrust into him, feeling Ghirahim's cock slide in painfully, screaming just as he had been promised.
The pain brought more tears to his face, and as the friction caused him to rock in place, each time he was thrusted into, the sword pulled at his hands.
"S-Stop!" Dark begged, everything hurting him beyond belief; it wasn't enough that both of his hands were gauged by the blade of a sword, or that his ass was aching from no lubrication, but his mind retched in disgust and fear, while the rest of his body reveled in the ecstacy of Ghirahim hitting his sweet spot.
He laid his head on the cold floor, eyes sewn shut tightly to block out any sight. He held his breath, willing himself to die. He sobbed, the conflicting feelings weighing so heavily on him he feared that he would snap.
Dark let the tears roll down his cheeks, his eyes becoming puffy and disoriented. A massive headache had been conceived behind his forehead, and he finally understood what Ghirahim had meant; his body conflicted against both enjoying and loathing the sensation of Ghirahim inside of him; his mind had been shattered into fragments so tiny, they had dissolved into mere powder; his soul had become so contaminated that he knew it would never be returned again. He had been broken.
Ghirahim, however, continued to ram himself into Dark, thoroughly enjoying the sobs and tear-drenched moans that escaped Dark's lips.
He grabbed a handful of Dark's raven hair and yanked back, Dark screaming as the blade pulled deeped into the wound and as Ghirahim's nails pierced the back of his head.
"Say my name, shadow," sneered Ghirahim.
"Never..." breathed Dark, overcome by the pain, pleasure, sensation of violation and immediate response of building up apathy.
Dark's usual apathy was broken down as he felt the blade of another sword held by his tormentor pressed against the back of his neck again.
"GHIRAHIM!" he shrieked, unwilling to have the sword driven through his throat, his defiance gone, replaced with obedience.
"Not so tough...are you!" Ghirahim demanded through thrusts, grinning down at the boy beneath him.
No...not anymore...Dark lamented.
"You're very tight, shadow!"
Dark shook his head back and forth, trying to throw those words out of his head.
The build-up of pleasure, what he could feel more intensely over the agonizing pain, finally began to tug at the edges of his mind and moving up the shaft of his cock; before he realized it, he came all over the floor beneath him, crying louder than ever, wishing death upon Ghirahim.
Not long after, Dark felt a current of warm liquid rushing inside of him, and another strangled whimper slipped out of his mouth.
He lay shuddering as Ghirahim removed himself from Dark's entrance, tears still cascading finely down his cheeks.
He felt a hand grab the handle of the sword that attached his hands together lift, and he screeched as it was removed jarringly fast.
Before he could struggle to sit up, however, he felt the same set of hands grasp him around the throat. For a few seconds, he stared into Ghirahim's black eyes as he was throttled, air unable to pass in or out.
"I certainly hope you had fun, Dark," whispered Ghirahim into the boy's ear, before driving the sword through his heart, staring at the ivory, tear-stained face of the shadow and watching the life slowly ebb from his beautiful blood colored eyes before his body collapsed at Ghirahim's feet.