(A/N: So... I wrote this for a Deadman Wonderland Kink meme that sadly seems to have died. I decided to post it up here because my account has been dead for oh-so-long. I feel bad about abandoning my other stories like that... really, I do. I might pick them up again if the fancy takes me and people are still interested. |D Anyway, enjoy the fic.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Deadman Wonderland, nor am I making any profit off of this story other than my own amusement.

Title:
Beauty in Agony

His breathing was shallow and harsh, and fast, and loud. He was sure, with the way it echoed around the confined space, that it was even louder than the screams, the gurgles, and the... other sounds (snapping, squelching, dripping, tearing...) coming from outside his sanctuary. His dark, smelly, cramped sanctuary, that was in fact nothing more than a mercifully large locker, though nowhere near big enough to comfortably house his tall, lanky form. Genkaku shifted, biting his lip, shivering at yet another scream of horror cut achingly short. The shiver found little of its origins in fear.

Some of the cries were words. Never really sentences, though. Not long ones. Denials, 'No!' Pleas, 'Don't!' Cries for salvation, 'Oh God!'

Fools. Didn't they know they were being saved?

The super monk swallowed a discomforted grunt as he moved again, struggling to press his face against the air vents at the top of the locker, desperate to get a view of the outside-

He jerked, shoving himself back against the inside of the locker and wiping furiously at his left eye, where the splatter of red liquid had hit. Even he himself couldn't have told if the sounds he was making were annoyance or amusement. Vision cleared again, though a tad blurry, a bit red-tinted but so what else was new, and he pressed his gaze eagerly against the vents again.

It wasn't the best viewpoint but- oh!- what a view! It was stunning, beautiful, riveting, gorgeous! ...He was gorgeous!

That sentimental little Owl, the one who'd given up his voice and his battle for his wife, a pathetic pregnant bitch who'd squealed and run rather than face her punishment... Genkaku had written him off as just another insect, another lame creature who whined at being shown how to fight, who quailed from true salvation...

Oh, what a mistake to make. What an oversight!

There didn't seem to be more than an inch of surface in the room that wasn't baptized in scarlet. What remains could be seen through the thin, frustrating grating Genkaku was peering through were barely recognizable as human, wouldn't have been at all, in fact, to anyone not familiar with anatomy. Genkaku had the utmost confidence in his own strength and power, but he still rejected the very notion of leaving the locker. He had so many people still to save, it wasn't his turn yet... and going out there at present, even with his own vast ability, would be suicide.

Instead he drank it in, his eyes darting side to side, snapping up what visuals could be gleaned with an eagerness that bordered on hunger.

It was glorious.

And there, in the center of it all (the cause of it all!), was Owl. Stepping in and out of sight, spheres of that most vital fluid exploding around him, branch of sin coiling around his victims... even his bare hands were being put to use as he seized every one of Genkaku's men that came within reach of his attacks and tore them apart, dismembering them inch by inch, innards and limbs, digits and skin and hunks of flesh and bone were literally flying through the air in every direction. It was no wonder a bit of the stuff had caught Genkaku through even the narrowness of the locker's air vents.

It was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. It was death incarnate, salvation incarnate.

Genkaku didn't realize he was stroking himself until he came, didn't realize he'd been moaning lasciviously until he cried out in the throes of ecstatic orgasm, didn't notice that the other screams had ended, that the world outside had fallen dead (haha!) silent until the locker door was ripped open and thrown to the side, a blood-drenched Owl staring at him with glazed eyes, face blanked and numb with unfocused pain and fury.

Genkaku was still panting, flushed and shameless, he grinned toothily at the magnificent monster in front of him. Owl's head tilted, his brow furrowing in confusion. Genkaku reached out with a cum-soaked hand, fingers trailing white through the red on Owl's cheek, stroking through his damp, but still temptingly soft, dark locks.... A lost look crawled into the Deadman's eyes. His lips, those sweet slim lips, parted, and the monk could see the strawberry coloured tongue flickering in the chasm. No sound. None at all, beyond the simple swish of air moving in and out. His mechanical voicebox had yet to be finished. He mouthed words anyway, desperation clouding the beautiful anger, salty droplets forming in the corners of his eyes, making them sparkle despite their emptiness. Owl stopped after a few minutes that might have felt like hours to a less interested party than the super monk. He took a slow step back from the locker, paused, froze in fact. Genkaku tilted his head. Owl, oddly enough, mirrored the movement. Another pause, long enough for Genkaku's gaze to roam.

Genkaku only just managed to catch Nagi when he collapsed.

"Shh, shh." He whispered to the unconscious form. It trembled in his grasp, as though even in sleep Nagi could sense the evil that held him. Genkaku brushed curls out of Nagi's face. "I've got you, you beautiful thing." He was still holding the Deadman close, half in his lap, arms wrapped tightly around the slender chest, when the rest of security arrived. Took them long enough... not that it mattered anyway. Genkaku didn't need those useless Undertakers that lay spread all over the locker room. He had something so much better now.

"I've got you..."