Author's Note: i imagine this kind of like a fluid, yet disjointed music video. nonsensical and full of imagery. i may have messed up on the tenses a bit, but i tried to fix it. i tried hard to keep vanitas and sora in character, but may have missed a beat. this was just a fun first attempt at a story that fits vanitas' dark, yet attractive persona, and a first attempt at one of my newest OTPs, VanitasSora. Enjoy?

Trigger warnings: rape, domestic abuse.

Honey Blood

There ain't no good in this God-forsaken town. Not one bit.

'Cept that one boy. Yeah, that one boy who walks around my porch asking for sugar and shit. He's got some pretty eyes, he does.

But he's got the devil on his shoulder. Now, I ain't no angel, ain't tryin' to say that I am, but I could be a whole lot better for that kid than his god-damned boyfriend. The one who walks around like he's just some honky-tonky hunk.

Fuck him, that's all I gotta say. Ain't like I'm jealous or nothin' I just think that sweet kid deserves better. He's the best thing this town has ever seen.

I mean, I see him all the time when he goes home with that bag of groceries and he's always got that pretty smile on his face. I ain't never seen him drink, ain't never seen him smoke. Hell, the first time I ever talked to him was when I was sitting on my porch, calling the boy over as I leaned on my porch.

He didn't say much, kind of blushed and was confused when I chewed and spit the last of my tobacco into my bucket. It clanged, and he jumped.

"Wanna smoke?" I asked him, taking one out for myself, putting it between my lips, and wishing so badly that it was his dick instead.

He shook his head. "I-I don't smoke." And I don't think I had ever heard those words in conjunction with one another for all of my twenty four years.

"What's your name boy?" I asked, leaning my arm over the railing, took out my lighter, and set the cigarette on fire.

"Sora," he said, quietly as he fidgeted in his boots. Looked like this Sora kid couldn't even tie his own damn shoes. "I'm sort of in a hurr—"

"How old are you?" I asked, cutting him off completely as I inhaled the fiber glass into my tar lungs. Tobacco was the little voice in my head that kept me sane.

"I'm 24."

"Well I'll be damned," I laughed. He sure didn't look a day over 20. "Why don't you come inside with me for a bit. I can make you some lemonade."

I didn't really got any lemonade, but this boy looked like he could use a taste of something sweet.

"That'd be great. But I'm in a hurry. Got groceries to take home." He said as he turned away from me, and that's when I noticed the shiner on his eye.

"Your man beat you?" I asked, but I knew the answer to that. A black eye like that didn't have to be in the shape of a fist for me ta know.

He stopped, looked at me like I just called his mom a whore. "No." He said, that baby face of his glaring at me. Cute. "I got to go."

And I finished smoking, put it out under my steel-toed boot and headed inside. I thought about Sora, black eye and bruised lip and broken ribs, and I masturbated on my arm chair with the broken spring.

Sora came in my house one day and there was eerie silence, 'cept for my door swinging shut behind him. And he's got them overalls on that I just wanted to tear off.

I imagined dripping sweet marmalade on him and licking it all off. When he talks I imagine stuffing a rag in his mouth to shut him up while I fuck him sideways on the arm of my couch. And it'd be even better if ole' green eyes boyfriend stormed in and saw me taking his boy as mine, and his boy lovin' every minute of it.

"Don't know why you with that guy. Not a real man. Not like me. Y'know, this town ain't seen no one like me, never will."

"You don't know him. He's really great," Sora said, deliberately ignoring the second part of what I said, as he took a drink off that lemonade I offered him a few days ago that he finally gave in to. "Kind of sour," he said, and I wanted to break his lying little neck.

"Maybe you need something sweet," I said, smirking at him like a wily coyote, and cackling when he set the glass down and blushed red.

"Why do you always invite me here?" He asked as he swished the lemonade around in his glass. Idly, I pull the little switch blade out of my pocket and flick it open, play with it, let my fingers touch the tip, too bored to be scared of gettin' pricked.

I looked up when I saw that he was still staring at me. Oh yeah, didn' even answer his question, did I?

"Jus' wanted ta talk," I said as I looked back to my knife, and imagined stabbing his rat bastard boyfriend right between the ribs.

"What about?" Sora asked, not a hint of that southern accent in his voice. Not surprised. He was new 'round here. No wonder I hadn't seen him around before. I woulda recognized those big ole' blues of his anywhere.

And lucky for him, that black eye of his was barely noticeable. Couldn't bear to look at it for long. Might just have to go over a couple doors and break his man's jaw.

I looked up, smirking when I sliced my finger and saw him look at the blood drip, drip to the wood floor. He sat up quickly and I shook my head. "Sit down boy," I said with a laugh as I stuck the finger in my mouth and tasted the sweet copper. "You know...I wish I had a boy to come home to every night. A boy that'd bring me groceries, do my laundry." I walked over to him and saw the way he was blushin' and shiftin' uncomfortable. "You stick with me, and he won't be botherin' you again." I stabbed the wood table with the knife and leaned in close, whisperin' in the thick, honey air. "And I won't you give you no shiner. Nah, not my boy. Everytime I touch you, you'd be beggin' for more."

And I swear for a minute all I could hear was those damn crickets outside my yard, and Sora had set his glass down like he was up and ready to leave. And ya know, I wouldn' have been surprised. But he sat there like the obedient little boy I knew he was.

"People around town, they've warned me about you," he said and finally looked up at me with this look in his eyes. Made me wonder if this boy liked bein' beat or what.

"People just intimidated by me. Not you, right?" I chuckled and wanted to knock the pitcher of lemonade off the counter top and grab him by his throat and claim him as all mine.

Scenario after scenario played out in my mind and I wasn't one to be patient for long.

"I'm just giving you the benefit of the doubt," he said, smiling like I knew him to do, as he took another sip from his glass. "No one's ever made me lemonade before."

"Well drink up boy," I said, still leaned in close as I crossed my arms over the counter top. "More where that came from."

He was just lucky I didn't put any meds in it like I had planned.

There's a storm out. My screen door slams and creaks with every gust of wind. It's like a tornado out there, and I'm caught right in the middle of it all. Oh Auntie Anne, I think with a chuckle as I bring the sweet bourbon to my lips and chug it down like it was meal to eat and air to breathe.

And in my lonely existence, it was.

Even with the storm brewin', the wind carried Sora's voice all the way to my door. Like he was standin' right there at my door step lookin' like a poor rat with his hair matted and his clothes stuck to that little body of his.

He was in a shoutin' match with that shit boyfriend of his. I could hear them both screaming at each other, yells and shouts as irritating as an out-of-tune guitar in my ear drum.

My nails were diggin' into the arm rest, one hand continuing to pour more alcohol down my guzzle. Spiced like apples and sweet like marmalade, but even the mind-numbing drunk I was obtaining couldn't drown them out.

And the funny thing is, no one is even tryin' to stop them! Nah, not no one. Was I really the only good neighbor 'round here anymore?

I've been fightin' myself tooth and nail not to go storming over there, but I stick like glue to my arm chair. That is, till I hear a scream that sounded like someone gettin' a good lashing, and that was when I spring up out of my chair like a cricket, threw my bourbon bottle against the wall, and didn't even stop when it shattered.

There's a shot gun propped up by my door, never knew when I was gonna need it, and I run through mud and rain till screams and cries were get louder and louder.

I run up the stairs, through the porch, and open the screen door with rain runnin' in my eyes and that shot gun loaded and ready. I run through the living room, to the bedroom, where I knew I'd find them.

And I don't even stop to think, stop to breathe, when I see that man hovered over that boy with fists bloodied and Sora was just beggin' for it to stop.

I shoot that sunnava bitch in the back and watch the blood splatter with some sort of fucked up happiness, and when Sora screams, I swear it made me hard.

I know gun shots, even in the south, aren't taken lightly. Someone would definitely be calling the sheriff to this house, and even with manslaughter on my bill, all I could think about is Sora. I had killed his pathetic excuse for a boyfriend, gave Sora salvation. Gave myself some too.

There's a thud when Sora tossed the body off him, and a second one when I drop the shot gun, and with him splattered with blood, I had never wanted him so bad.

I don't say anything, walk over to the shaken up boy and flick off the lamp, likin' the sight of him better in the dark and even though his lips are shakin' and his chest is heavin', I push him back on the bed and kiss him.

He kisses me back, just like I knew he would, lips still shaking and tasting like copper, and he groans, unsure. The way he kisses was just as I'd imagine a doe-eyed boy with a grocery bag full of milk and flour would do. Sweet and timid. Until I push my tongue past his lips and feel his come to life.

And God, his tongue is like hot molasses drenched in sweet borboun, slick heat against my own, and I shiver. Never has a woman, a man, ever made my dick so hard, but it could have just been a case of whiskey dick.

The kissing is nice, very nice, but I want more, want to feel his hard dick pressed between our stomachs as I fuck him and choke him and make him feel more then he ever did with that sunnava bitch of his.

And I deserve it, right?

So I pull away and undo my belt.

"W-wait, what are you-" I slam my palm over his mouth, and his words are muffled just the way they should be. There's no time for him to play games, and I ain't in the mood for 'no.' Not after I had just killed a man for that boy!

I pull my pants down and work on his, take my hand away from his mouth just to get his pesky pants off, and he starts squirmin' about, tryin' to punch and pull at me. And I put him in his place, slapping the fight out of him, and God, does he look pissed. Wounded, even.

What did he expect? The town had warned him about me after all.

I grab his neck roughly, feel the panicked bob of his adam's apple against my palm, and I groan when I stick my fingers in his entrance, tryin' to do a quick scissor to get him warmed up for me. Not that I cared though.

He chokes on his shudder, and I let go of his neck to work my hand on his soft dick.

"Boy you better not squirm. I only got a couple minutes till the cops show up."

"Stop it!" He yelled, squirmin' again, trying to kick, claw, punch me, and I punch him in the face so hard my knuckles crack from the pressure. His head falls back, his eyes waverin' 'cuz I knocked him silly, and I know he won't be fighting me no more.

And I laugh, remove my fingers from his hole and I shudder as soon as I replaced them with my hard cock. It's tight, so tight it nearly hurt, but I'm sure it doesn't feel no better for him. I listen to him scream and watch him writhe beneath me in a half-hearted attempt to get away. "No one's gonna hear you. And even if they did, no one cares. No one came here when your man was beatin' the shit out of you 'sides me, remember that," I said, and press my hips tight, gettin' in as much as I could before startin' a rough rhythm.

But before I can even get any fuckin' pleasure out the boy, pleasure that I deserve, the deputy and sheriff are bargin' in, foot steps thuddin' towards the room and I get in a few last thrusts before they yell at me, see the dead body, and tell me to stand up or get my brains blown out.

And I pull out, stand up, and turn around, pants still down with my cock out in the open air and my hands up over my head.

And the deputy handcuff me, reading me my Miranda rights as they drag me away.

"You gon' be put away for a long time. Ya killed a man, Vanitas. What you gotta say for yerself?" The Deputy says, staring at me cold and hard.

"Fuck you, ain't got nothin' to say. You think you so much better, huh, Deputy? Ain't no better than me, ain't no one in this town better than me!"

In a town full of demons, I'm the Devil who finds an angel in the crowd just so I can rip his wings to shreds.