First Bite

x

The boy was a white flame. He flickered in front of his eyes like a spectre. His figure stood out among the rest of his class, then blended in again… appearing and disappearing, like his very being was trying to morse-code 'come get me'.

Seto supposed that was a poetic enough reason for why he whisked him away from the group and took him up to his office. It was also bullshit, something that silver-tongue authors loved to get hard for and fuck to. The truth was a lot more prosaic: he was having a shit day, he didn't have any whiskey in his workplace and he was a lonely bastard. It didn't help that the boy had the guts to look him directly in the eyes.

It didn't help he was staggeringly beautiful.

"Your name?" His patient drone of a baritone was now a rasp, full of shuddering breath and strangling desire.

"K… Killu-...aah!"

Perhaps he shouldn't have bitten him that hard first thing. But heavens, his blood was rubies on his tongue. His cry was an ode, a praise of his unforgiving greed, and his straining body was a small, breakable thing in his jaws, brittle as glass, singular and exciting. He'd bruise, he'd bleed, he'd curse him, he'd make him come harder than anyone before.

"No… no…! What-" What a tiny fist he had. He could bite it right off, it felt like… he should have felt that punch to his chest, but all he felt was the delicate squirms of the fresh prey in his claws.

When he tossed the boy onto his desk his monitor fell off and crashed. He stepped over and leaned in to suck the blood from the gaping wound on his neck. "Hhhhaa…" The shorts ripped when he yanked them from those slim legs. Fear was making the silky thighs cold as ice under his fingers. Small nails clawed on his face, trying to get to his eyes. Seto tilted his head and sank his teeth into the wrist of one, gnawing hard.

The boy screeched and he caught his gaze.

An angel on the cross… he'd fuck him half to death if he kept looking so horrified, agonized, so hurt, so pleading, lost, lonely, scared, tiny, just a small boy, a young boy, another little victim…

"I've never seen anyone like you before…"

Who was that? That rumbling, grating purr of pure ecstasy, was that him, really? Gathering the child into his arms to kiss blood onto his eyelids, to kiss blood to his fear-whitened cheeks, to kiss his own blood onto his beautiful ice pink lips… to kiss it deep into his mouth, onto his tongue, into his lungs, kiss all his sin into him…

"Killua…" He murmured onto his trembling lower lip. "Killua…" He murmured into the wound sobbing on his neck. "Killua, you beautiful child…" He sighed into his navel.

Then it was only the sound of kisses and licking. He was on his knees like never before, his tongue between the boy's thighs, teasing his virginity away, opening him up without mercy. The softness of him was maddening, clenching like a delicate velvet vice, yet giving, allowing his dominance inside. His tongue just brushed deep enough to roll over a small, swollen spot when air found the boy's vocal chords again and strung them on a high, hitching sob. Slim little fingers slid into his chestnut hair, clawing a fistful of his well-cut tresses. The cold thighs slid apart, trembling with the effort.

Seto gave a final, deep lick to reward him. When he was on his feet again, he saw the boy looking at him through glossy tears, his lips swollen and bruised from his biting kisses before. His hands have fallen back to the top of the desk. While he shrugged out of his jacket, took of his tie and shirt, loosened his belt, he watched him, licked him head to toe with his eyes.

"...hold on to me." He told him then, and the boy did; he sank all ten fingers into his upper arms, clinging like his life depended on it… and it possibly did.

When he was inside the boy screamed his lungs dry, cutting red welts onto his arms, thrashing, jolting, seizing in unbearable pain. He kicked, smacked his fist to his shoulder, breathed in, cried out, breathed in again and sobbed, looking up at him with his eyes on sapphire fire.

"Killu...a…" His voice cracked. His muscles danced, coiled into tension, waited for desperate release. He gripped one milk-white thigh and it almost got lost in his large hand. "God, you're beautiful…" The words slipped in a shiver between his teeth and he began moving, unable to keep hold of a rhythm. All instinct, pure need, greed, desire, want, lust, madness. And the silence he tried to hold onto broken by the growls of the animal inside.

"I'll never stop…"

"You… you… beautiful, mine, mine…"

"Curse me all you want, kill me, don't care, you'll be mine, always…"

"I'll fuck you until we both die…"

Morning would find him alone, snoring naked on the couch in his office. All his limbs ached, he was covered in claw-marks, he was wrung dry… but for the first time in years he slept until noon without trouble.