Where the hell is Kimberly on the character lists? -.-'' Anyway, this story has some rather strange warnings: yaoi, sex, an uke/seme switch, semi-graphic images, and deep thoughts during sex. Other then that, enjoy!

Convenient

We tumble off the bed, locked in an animalistic battle for dominance. The floor shudders as his body falls beneath me, his right elbow smashing against the rough wooden boards. Scratching at me like a rabid wolf, Kimberly digs his long nails into my flesh. Jagged, broken claws. I don't protect myself, and blood crawls from wounds that I could have prevented, but didn't.

Excitement explodes in my veins as the blood dribbles over my gritted teeth. I feel an exhilarating rush to live, overpowering the drive to dominate, stronger than when I was sealed, stronger even than the black disease of vengeance. The blood excites this restless desire, its flow wiring my nerves and sharpening my senses.

Kimberly's lips twist in a grimace of pain as I rip them open, but I know his reaction is an automatic reflex, and nothing more. I don't mean he can't feel it, really. I just mean his broken mind doesn't register it. I think. Perhaps he even enjoys it. I don't understand anything about that demented brain of his, and I don't know who's more human: him or me. I don't know who the world hates more, and by this time, I don't really care.

Our brutal war tips in his favor, and he forces me underneath his legs. This causes his golden eyes to flicker slightly, and he grins at me, victorious. I shove my hand in his face, and then grasp his left arm with stiffened fingers, trying to break through a wall of his humanoid cage. He snatches my hand and forces it downwards. I growl, protective of my body. A cornered monster.

I don't have a soul, and he doesn't have a mind. Two animals, living and breathing, but without humanity. The soul is something that isn't tangible. I can't reach inside my body and find a gaping hole in my heart. But I know that when I die, I die. I think I want to live more than them, all those people out there. Because when I die, I die, and my body sinks into nothing, or reunites with my dead human model. Fuck them, I want to live! I want to live like they do! I don't want to return to something that I despise! I scratch Kimberly violently across his face, and he flings his head to the ceiling and laughs, knowing he's won. Red trickles down his pale features. I don't know where Kimberly will go. I don't know where people without minds go. He had one, once. Maybe. Where did it go?

He tears my shirt and yanks my zipper down, and I succumb into submissiveness. His turn, he won, he gets his fun. Fine. I'll win next time. He smiles at me while positioning my legs, but it's only an upturn of the lips. I don't know what's in his eyes, but it's not connected to the flesh anymore.

Maybe if we can combine our bodies perfectly we can somehow share what we lack. But I don't think Kimberly wants to share his blackened soul, and I don't think either of us can be perfect. Especially not together. Not us. I don't even know what convoluted feelings I carry for him. I don't know why I want to fuck him. My feelings aren't gentle dominance, aren't pity, aren't greed. I don't fuck him like everyone else, for benevolent control, and nothing more. He enters inside of me; I know we can't be perfect.

That's not why I take them all in, though, all those warped and deformed chimeras, all those toughened street thugs, and all those abused whores. I want to share what I have with them, and I want them to give me back my humanity. I also want to prove something. I want to prove I'm someone, and I want to do it this way, my way, because I like to think I'm some kind of savior. Saving them from the evil world that cannot understand being a freak, being different, being twisted. I say that it cannot understand when I'm feeling generous, and that it is callous when I'm not. I will take my children's twisted souls in my arms and protect them. I'm their savior, and I will lead them. I'm their savior, and I am dominant. I will lead them to victory. He teases me, touching then receding. I grasp his hand and guide it forward again, glaring into his yellow orbs. He giggles.

Kimberly is different. He's a freak, like all of us, but he doesn't want to be saved, and he doesn't want to let me be in control. That's why…I like him the best. I guess he could be my ruin, but I'm keeping him anyway. I like him the best, so I trust him. He goes faster, grunting; I pant.

"And I…exploded…her arm!" Kimberly gasps, continuing something that must have been going on in his head, but not caring that I couldn't follow. Not caring that I don't want to know. I really don't want to know what he thinks about when he's on top of me. But every time, he feeds me with his fantasies. "She was screaming…I grasped her head…the blood was all over…" His shoulders quivered as he giggled and moaned at the same time.

"Oh?" I humor him, because for some reason I care about him, even if I don't care for his sexual attractions. I humor him even further by pretending to be in pain, clutching his shirt and gritting my teeth wretchedly, like a masochistic whore. I've gotten rather good at it, even though the actual pain is relatively minor. My back digs deeply into the floor.

"Yeah." He arches his back. "And then …then…and…and her head…exploded…brains…everywhere…"

I try to think about something else. "Really?" One of my girls rubs imaginary fingers down my chest.

A smirk squirms over his face. "Y-yeah! And-and—" A pleasure-filled moan. "And he-he crawls over to her…screaming some nonsense…"

My girl, the blonde one, slides her bare legs over me and slips her shirt seductively over her wired body. Her hands move quickly to Kimberly's rough strokes. I come before him, splattering over his open chest. The fantasy fades.

"And he died…and then…I used her…" The hysterical giggling reaches a high pitched gasp. He falls onto the floor beside me, chest heaving heavily.

I roll over and restore my jeans, breathless, ignoring his mutterings, ignoring the horrid images pouring out of his mouth.

The door slams open, and Martel stomps in, disregarding all the rules of privacy. She doesn't seem perturbed. "Now that you two are done, Greed has a visitor," she says calmly, before making a face and tromping away. The door slams roughly behind her.

"You sleep with her too?" Kimberly asks, flopping into a sitting position.

"When I feel like it," I say, semi-vaguely.

"Is she any good?"

"Not really." I push myself up, over him, smiling something strange. His hair feels sweaty to the touch. Alive. I ruffle it playfully, and it's my turn to giggle. I feel affectionate.

"Fuck off!" Kimberly grumbles, shoving my hand away. "I'm not one of your stupid pets!"

"Hey, calm down man. I know." I do know. But I want you to be. I want you on my leash, like everybody else. I leave him on the floor, and shut the door behind me. That's why I keep you. Because I want you on the giant leash. But not like everyone else. Maybe a special leash. A special leash, just for you.