A/N: Much belated gift-fic to a steadfast reader who wrote me something fabulous once, Thorn In Your Side.
Prompt: Getting comfortable in the electric chair
(EDITED: 6/28/10)
x x x
Situated
x x x
Here he found himself, situated between the unforgiving tile of the bathroom wall and a fragile set of heaving ribs in danger of imploding under the force of vindication.
Recently, he had decided that Sasuke had never really wanted to survive his brother.
And up until recently, he hadn't really cared, and would have continued not to, that is, if he didn't have to deal with the aftermath. Despite his years in Kiri, his years in captivity, despite having witnessed carnage to a ridiculous degree, nothing had ever prepared him for this, this lust. The palpable, sickening greed.
What happens when you get everything you've ever wanted?
You learn it's never enough.
With a lewd rush of course fabric on skin, Sasuke's shirt was ripped off and ungratefully discarded on the grimy floor. A thigh clad in midnight silk slid sensuously over its mate as the connected foot crept twelve inches closer- twelve more preemptive farewells to what had been a gloriously impersonal system.
Until now.
Suigetsu felt a lump rise in his throat as he realized he was trapped, even with his own image in the blindingly shiny white tiles, reflecting in blurry abstract the surreality of it all. The fact that the walls of his cage seemed to be closing him in, whiting him out, spoke testaments to its inevitability and its assured consequences. Here he was situated, the scene of his rape to be entombed in linoleum, rather than the marble of a renaissance.
A cheap and trashy way to go, be assured, yet there is a quiet glory in commonplace tragedy overlooked.
His leader, no, Sasuke was always more than that. The artist of his fate was now untying his belt, seeming to savor the agony of knowing what was to come, in the same way you relish standing on the brink of a cliff with the abyss beckoning you to jump.
And Suigetsu knew that he would jump; he trusted Sasuke as one would have faith in a God: believing when all common sense tells you not to. Make no mistake, though, he was not devoted to him.
Not yet.
The belt was off by now, and oh god, that black silk was disgusting in contrast to the sleek ivory of Sasuke's stomach. Two things that different only bring out the worst in each other, and Suigetsu realized briefly that there was the fatal flaw of Sasuke's old team. That was the fatal flaw of most things that were doomed to Just Not Work Out. It was even the fatal flaw of Sasuke himself: Suigetsu was sure, once upon a time that Sasuke had been weak. And weakness and greed clash just as garishly as black silk and white skin, and now he found himself almost wishing that Sasuke would take it off, and with it simply cast off the dark clouds that perpetually defined his consciousness.
But it wasn't that easy, even though Sasuke was trying with every beat of his desperate heart to force not only this, but his whole damned life into simplicity.
Even as the silk billowed away from the gracefully sculpted flare of his hips, almost as the literal lifting of those shadows from Sasuke's ethereally shining form, Suigetsu smiled. Bitterly, bitterly.
Sasuke's flesh, though beautiful was scarred all over.
Then, In one move that made his breath still in the hollows of his lungs, his heart to swell until he thought his whole chest would explode, (and in his musings he found it funny to think that he and Sasuke would metaphorically die in opposite ways. Fire and water, after all.) Sasuke slid his finger up the underside of Suigetsu's throat to his jaw, in the manner that someone would zip up a body bag. Every muscle in his body tensed, the blood just under his skin seemed to be boiling with a sudden, inexplicable, and insatiable need.
And, just like that, he fell.
Just like that he was able to ignore the palatable wrongness of it all. Sasuke, without having used any of the considerable force at his disposal, had tamed a beast. Just like that, he had him, irrevocably, completely.
This time, he took a step closer, right in the grave, till his explosive chest caressed its opposite (Martyrdom and Suicide), sweat pooling at every point of contact. And when their lips finally met with the kind of satisfied sizzle of a fire being ignited, as tongues slid across each other and rough hands gripped at rougher skin, Suigetsu thought he could finally see where Sasuke was coming from. Maybe their opposing miseries would cancel each other out until the world stopped spinning and they were back to where they started.
But he knew better.
Sasuke was the abyss, the tempter, the God.
What happens when the allure of the abyss becomes so overwhelming you step over the cliff?
You'll learn there's nothing you can ever do to claw your way back up.
x x x
Special thanks to Stephanie Meyer for teaching the word "Irrevocable" to thirteen year old girls everywhere!
BISCUIT