A/N
I thought my previous stories had been angsty. I was wrong. This one takes the fucking biscuit. It even creeps me out.
This is dedicated to Chaell and Rennie because they were the last people I talked to before coming up with this at 11pm so it's probably their fault somehow.
WARNING: This story is NOT happy-clappy, like my others. It's VERY dark and involves lots of mature stuff (that I can't write about or it would totally spoil it) but seriously, if you don't think you can handle it I don't want to be responsible for mental scarring.
Warnings for chapter 1: Graphic lemon, KyoYuki.
Discovery
Oh, Yuki.
How did it come to this?
There's a moment in everyone's life when they have to break away. It could be when you leave your parents, or school, or it could be when you abandon your friends with no reasons given whatsoever and make them search for you for half a year and then find you here. It reeked of piss, and sweat, but he was still curled up in a ball in the middle of it, and he was still Yuki.
He was frighteningly thin as I scooped him up. His head flopped onto my chest and he groaned, eyes fluttering slightly. I pulled him close, making a half-croaked shushing noise deep in my throat as tears scratched at the back of my eyes. There were a dozen other half-naked bodies lying in the filth in the alleyway, but I was only here for Yuki. I could do nothing for them. I glanced nervously at the door back to the club, half-frightened that Yuki's boss would find me extracting his best prize, but no one came. The music was too loud, the stench of alcohol and many tightly-packed moving bodies choking my over-sensitive sense of smell. I pulled Yuki closer and began to walk away, the mud clinging to my boots.
I lay him out on the bed when I finally managed to get home. I ran a hand softly across his forehead. It had taken me so long to find him, and even in my worst nightmares I'd thought he could be dead. But he was here – that was a start, at least. "I missed you," I whispered, but he couldn't hear me – I was glad. He was asleep – restlessly, tossing and whimpering – but asleep. With everything I knew he'd had to do, it didn't surprise me. I gently worked him out of his half-torn graduation robes, eyes keeping on his face even when he was naked beneath me. I ignored the scratches and scars and bruises (especially the blue-black ones covering his lower arms) and carried him into the shower, gently washing the six months of filth from his battered, broken body.
He shuddered horribly as I lay him back down, and his hands suddenly sprung back into life. He squirmed on the bed, hands moving out, feeling the soft material. He didn't appear to panic, his hands drifting up across my body, feeling their way along the material, fingers slipping under the buttons. He sighed gently. "I take it you've talked to Yui?" he murmured as he reached up, kissing my neck softly. I wanted to stop him, but my head was spinning dangerously. I knew this sensation… I'd felt it before…
Someone had spiked my drink.
My informant… the little shithead! And now Yuki was kissing my neck, his hands working on my buttons softly but insistently, and I couldn't think of anything but purple dolphins and rainbows. I struggled to stay conscious and lucid, trying to remind myself that I didn't want to screw my cousin… I was supposed to be saving him, not being his next charge… but the drugs were stripping me of my morals, and everything was fading into carnal feelings, and all I could think of was Yuki being so close. Years of suppressed emotions I hadn't realised until thirty seconds ago were swamping my system, focussing on the way his fingers were working at my fly, the way his lips burnt the skin on my neck. "Wait…" I gasped, but he spoke the same time as me and my words were lost.
"What's your name?" he whispered softly.
I groaned shakily. "Kyo," I gasped, just managing to splutter it out.
He laughed gently against my neck. "I had a friend called Kyo once," he murmured, and his hand shot down the front of my boxers and I couldn't think anymore. I whined his name in a single note, accompanied by rippling, harsh pants, my back arching at the sensation. My eyes were fogging over, my resolve gone, shattered in pieces on the floor landing with the jeans I kicked off as I hungrily kissed his mouth.
"Oh fuck, Yuki," I gasped, as he pushed his legs over mine and kissed me angrily.
"Do you have anything for me?" he muttered, hands rippling across my face.
"A-anything?" I gasped, and my face flushed with the implications of what he meant. As I was about to open my mouth to apologise he sighed and knelt above me.
"Shit," he sighed, and sat down on top of me. I screamed as my vision streaked white and nothing made sense anymore. I felt my arms clamped around him dangerously tight and he was shuddering, head resting on my shoulder as in an almost robotic action he began to rock forwards and backwards, skin slapping together the only noise save for my whines and gasps. Yuki was silent. His head was resting on my shoulder, fingers prodding at my own lower back, his first slipping inside me with blunt authority. He was intent on getting me off; this was his job, and he was a professional, after all. It was his livelihood and he knew what he was doing, that much was certain; my whole body felt alive with the pleasure of it, rippling full of sensations I didn't know existed.
"I missed you," I gasped, shuddering. He took it in his stride.
"I missed you too, sweetie, now come for me," he said, tone coaxing and so very un Yuki-ish it frightened me. I appeared to refuse to do so, though how I could restrain myself with him so tight around me and his fingers pressing against my prostate I didn't know. He let out a sigh of exasperation and rocked a little faster, his tongue lapping at my ear. Why didn't he recognise me? Why didn't he know who I was? Why was he doing this to me?
I groaned his name again, pushing my hips up to meet his. "Yuki…" I whispered, and tried to kiss his lips again; he pushed me away. Before his kiss had been angry and spiteful, but now he didn't want to know. This was about me.
"For fuck's sake, come! KYO!" He screamed and arched his back, his whole body shuddering with the sensation, clamping down on me as his last desperate attempt to make me comply, and at last I couldn't resist. I burnt in him and on him and with him and I lost myself with a half-sobbing cry.
He was exhausted; he slumped down onto me with a shudder, falling gracefully on top of me with a shudder. "Oh god," I whispered, supporting him gently. "What have I done?" I whispered, but the drugs and the sex were fogging my mind. His eyes fluttered open and he looked directly at me.
Only he didn't.
He had slipped into unconsciousness when I pushed him away and retched horribly into the bin beside the bed. I felt horribly empty as I curled up in a ball on the very edge of the bed, my arms wrapped around my legs as I sobbed, rocking myself gently.
His eyes had been cloudy and lifeless.
He was blind.
Oh, Yuki.
How did it come to this?
A/N
Yeah, I'm sorry it's so ridiculously short, but it had to start/finish there for perfect cliffy goodness.