The Rose Also Has Thorns
Light shone in through the penthouse loft's skylight, crawled like a spider under Rociel's silver eyelashes, and struck an awakening chord in his brain. Roused from the exhaustion that followed his depressive moods, he fluttered those lashes apart and gazed with slow, weary un-appreciation around the darkened room.
Alone. The house breathed loneliness, loneliness that seeped through his pores. With a rustle of black silk and a creak of black vinyl, Rociel swung his long legs off the couch and curled into a sitting position, raking his gloved fingers through long glossy silver blue hair. Eyes that scanned the dim chamber took in the familiar lines of furniture without much appreciation, immediately focusing on the one new thing in the room. A huge bouquet of white roses dominated the long mahogany table, spilling brilliant petals across the reddish wood. Nestled within the soft blossoms was a white card, edged with gold.
Very classy. Rociel allowed himself a brief, amused smile and got to his feet, gliding across the room toward the bouquet. His fingers tangled in wavy crystalline hair, raking it back from his face as he gazed down, slipping the half-hidden card out of its envelope and flipping it open absently.
"I send you a gift that is not truly appropriate. White roses must blush before your innocent, radiant beauty. I have loved you so long in silence, but now at last my heart's words can be heard. I adore you, Katan."
Rociel's eyes, nearly colorless cabochon gemstones, widened grotesquely. … Katan…?!
Hours later, the soft snick of the door closing and the low, careful tone of the younger angel greeted the atmosphere of an empty tomb. Concern shimmering in his topaz eyes, Katan slipped through the hall and into the large, ballroom-like parlor where Rociel was usually to be found.
"Rociel-sama?" he inquired softly. His only answer was panels of lacquered mahogany and curtains of gauze, which fluttered, in a soft wind from the open window. Katan frowned and came across the room to close it, his footsteps whispering over the wood floor in the eerie silence. If he noticed the new, ostentatious bouquet on the table, he assumed it merely another addition by Rociel's many admirers.
But as he passed the table, thinking perhaps his master had gone out to the balcony as he sometimes did, Katan's eyes caught the label on the card, placed even more strategically now.
Katan.
He stopped dead. Who could possibly be sending him flowers? He reached out with a slightly shaky hand, expecting the worst, and flipped open the card. Words leapt out of the page and into his brain, joining the deafening cacophony of blood that rushed there. Someone had been in love with him for a long time? He had never realized, always keeping a slight distance between the other angels, a distance born of necessary secrecy. The tone was so familiar… did he recognize the handwriting?
For a long while Katan studied the card, then his eyes popped open wide. If it were not so neat, he would almost say the handwriting was Rociel's! But…
The cherub felt his knees go weak. A hand, lightly pressed to the table, now became his support as his eyes closed, and images played over his eyelids he had never allowed himself to actively entertain till now. Could… Rociel-sama… possibly… love him?
Rociel-sama had changed so much.
"I'm pleased to see the note had such an affect on you… Katan."
Rociel's soft, melodic voice intruded on the whirling fringe of various emotions pummeling each other inside Katan's head. His uncertainty deepened, and a sick feeling was conceived in the pit of his stomach. That tone was too sweet. Like icing over sugar cubes. It always meant that Rociel was angry.
"R-rociel-sama…" Was all he could say, not really able to articulate anything. His brain was still arguing over whether he ought to apologize, ask for explanation, or simply gloss over the matter. His eyes did consent to open, and as he twisted a little at the waist he was able to catch his first look of the evening at Rociel. It was probably a mistake.
Always stunning, tonight the Inorganic Angel was breathtaking. Cascades of soft, silken hair, - metallic, with a glow of cold blue light, - dripped in large waves and curls around his slender shoulders. He had somehow clipped a few locks up on the left side of his head, so that the exquisite curve of one ear and the side of his neck was visible. The archangel's cross on his silver earring glittered and swung back and forth as if Rociel had just been moving.
Outlined in dark green kohl, his eyes had a sort of pale blue shimmer to them. Electric ice and stardust. Similar makeup- this time black, deep and wet looking, emphasized his full, pouty lips. And his outfit… well, it conspired to suck the life out of anyone looking at him. Starting from the neck, a soft black velvet choker radiated spider threads of silver chain, which fastened at various points in the black leather of his skintight vest. Under the vest was stretched silver mesh that truly looked like wire, shimmering in the amber light. As Rociel occasionally did in Katan's presence, he was wearing a skirt, black leather pornographically cupping the elegant lines of his hips and thighs, before the chain lacing up the side disappeared in a long slit, revealing thigh-high black leather boots on at least four-inch stiletto heels. Chains of diamonds were looped around the ankles.
Rociel was smiling, a soft dreamy smile, half-hidden by a lock of hair which he twirled and brushed against his lower lip. That smile made the temperature in the room drop by several degrees.
"I'm terribly sorry, Katan," he said quietly. "I trust I haven't interrupted?"
It hit Katan instantly- he hadn't sent the flowers, and he wanted to know who did. Unfortunately for himself, Katan had no idea.
"I don't know anything about this," he managed weakly, gesturing in the general direction of the table.
He hadn't been expecting the slap so soon, and the back of Rociel's hand made his vision go white. The force of it was bad enough, enough to knock the larger man off balance, but on top of that a powerful electric shock accompanied it, lighting Katan's entire body with agony. Despite his grip on the table, the cherub ended on his knees, tasting blood in his mouth from a cut lip.
"Was this the first gift sent by your little admirer, then?" Rociel's tone sounded so light, as if he didn't care at all.
"Yes… Rociel-sama…" Katan gasped. He didn't dare look up, just focusing on the floor and his own bodily functions, trying to control the urge to vomit. The after-effects of that harsh chastisement still sizzled in his veins.
"Get up." There was to be no argument with that tone. Katan slowly, entire muscular systems protesting, wedged himself on to his feet and stood up. Even with the head of height he held over Rociel, standing gave him no more power than he had on his knees.
"Who is it?" Long pale fingers trailed along the tabletop, pausing to press into a blushing white petal and guide it in a little spiral.
"I- I don't know." Katan knew that answer would not be one Rociel-sama wished to hear, but he truly didn't know.
That languid hand, whose motion had drawn the eye, now lifted slowly and pointed at the vase. Blue glass exploded, sending shards across the table, against the wall and reverberating off Katan's vinyl coat. Water spread out in an amorphous wave, soaking in the remnants of stem and flower, which looked haphazardly minced.
Katan felt himself tremble.
"Whoever it was should not have sent you roses," Rociel said softly. "Do you know why?"
Cheeks heated, Katan could not reply. He shook his head silently.
"Because…" Rociel's hand lifted to the collar fastened over Katan's coat. As a fashion statement, it was attractive, but truth be told, it was a collar. And his fingers hooked in it and dragged Katan out of the room behind him. "Roses also have thorns."
This rose, for instance. The Inorganic Angel paused in the center of his lounge area, simply staring upward at his "son". He found himself inexplicably fascinated by Katan's mouth. It was full-lipped, not wide, with naturally dark coloring between pink and copper. Due to the rapid shift of climate between heaven and earth, the lower lip was slightly chapped, and obviously once or twice bitten. That was actually slightly adorable, like the way those lips sort of parted as if he were going to speak, how those pretty amber eyes remained open wide, watching him with a sort of helpless fear, mingled always with… trust.
As if always, seconds after his master hurt him, he still trusted that pain would be controlled. Rociel wished he could trust himself so much, but he couldn't. Not these days- not with the memory of earth pressure against his eyes, scrambling his brains like so much yolk. To think that the unkillable machine, the filthy monster beyond the face of an angel, could be so delicate!
Not, however, as delicate as Katan.
Rociel gently pressed his fingertips against that dreamy, fascinating mouth. He felt the unbelievable softness of it, like a baby's skin. Felt the light quick beats of Katan's pulse through the lower lip. He was very agitated, wasn't he?
Rociel had never imagined in his wildest dreams that mouth would ever lie to him. To his knowledge, Katan had always been truthful to a fault, and he blamed this conceited grip on deception on whomever it was who dared to try to take Katan away from him. Nonetheless, he couldn't allow such a lapse to go unpunished.
"I will find out eventually, you know," he told his child levelly. His fingertips slid over Katan's chin and under it, stroking the soft arch of his Adam's apple and that columnar throat. Felt it swallow again, in dry- mouthed fear. Actually, Rociel could feel Katan's fear- like a steady pulse beat in the room. And he could smell it, like electricity. Clean, somehow.
"You—don't believe me?" Katan protested, obviously having to force himself to stand still under these unpredictable caresses. "Rociel-sama--!"
"Why should I believe you?" his tone was cold. Slowly, Rociel turned on one sharply angled boot heel and walked over to his divan, fingers spreading over the white suede, making patterns against it. Vinyl should have creaked as he sat down, but eerily, the movement was silent. "I'm supposed to believe those flowers were a prank? Or that a new admirer would address you so familiarly?"
"Rociel-sama!" Hesitantly, Katan crossed the room to sit next to his master on the divan. His eyes were so pure and innocent, candle-lit with the flames of protestation. Rociel wanted to tell him, no, don't come near me, don't you see that I'm angry? I will hurt you, and I will enjoy it, and I will hate myself for it…
He knew he'd been looking at Katan almost tenderly. He could feel the heat in his eyes sometimes. Katan was just so beautiful, so amazingly perfect for something so heavily influenced by Rociel's ugly energy.
He could also feel the heat leave it, as something hardened in his gut. "Methinks the gentleman protests too much." His fingers could feel the silken, warm softness of Katan's topaz-blue hair as they tightened over it, scalp-ripping pressure in those short waves. Heard Katan choke on an exclamation.
Then the tingling rose up his arm. Black energy, electric and dark, as unalive as the depths of the darkest caves, crawled along his bicep, danced over his elbow and ripped down over his forearm into that beautiful skull he held in his hands.
Katan screamed. And… The sound was hoarse, like the brave boy he was he was trying so desperately not to cry out. But the power Rociel was sending through his body would have reduced marble to sand. It would have sent the strongest man to his knees, and it quickly reduced Katan to a sobbing, helpless child.
Rociel forced his head down to rest on his knees and stopped his transfer of punishing energy. His other hand lifted, stroking Katan's scalp, massaging it. …love you for it…
Katan was crying. It made a part of his soul ache. He wanted so much to be the strong one, to swim the enormous, widening chasm between them so that he could really, truly, with all his soul take his boy in his arms and protect him from all that… from Rociel himself.
But since he could no longer do that, he had to pretend that he didn't care, had to pretend that… he was even stronger now. He slipped off the divan, rocking back on his heels, and pulled Katan easily against his chest, stilling those sobs, that trembling, pain-wracked body. His own hair fell everywhere, tickling haphazard channels over them both.
"Did that hurt?" As if he didn't know. As if he couldn't feel the pain- a curious sensation, stinging through Katan's smooth, perfect skin.
Katan only choked on his tears.
Rociel shook his head softly and leaned his cheek down against Katan's fevered forehead. "You know I'll only accept your absolute devotion or your absolute betrayal." Turning his head, his lips brushed over Katan's temple.
He thought he heard assent, forced out amid the hiccups of recovery. He was actually a bit impressed at how quickly Katan was regaining control. He was really very strong.
"So, do I keep you or kill you?" He asked lightly, brushing bluish hair out of the cherub's eyes and gazing down into them.
What he saw there completely unraveled him, down to his soul. There was still trust, there was still love, there was still devotion.
"In all the universe, I serve only you, Rociel-sama," Katan whispered, but the words took second place to that soul-shaking gaze. "Love only you, Rociel-sama…"
And for one breathless, never-ending instant the Inorganic Angel almost killed him. It would have been so simple, a single snap of that so- delicate spine, and Katan would die with that look in his eyes. He could have killed him in that moment. He loved him so much… and…
He really thinks I'm beautiful… he really loves me… As much as that meant, as much as it warmed some cold place inside him, it was a double-edged sword. How could someone be so innocent, so mistaken? How could he lie so deeply to himself, to Rociel, as if he didn't know what Rociel was? As if he didn't… tears burned in Rociel's eyes, and he closed them quickly, hiding it. Holding Katan so tightly it was a wonder the boy could breathe.
I can't lose him… He held on tightly. He held on as if he would never let go. "I'm sorry I hurt you… my Katan." Those last words, with such finality, such intensity, the closest he would ever get to admitting out loud.
I love him…
Light shone in through the penthouse loft's skylight, crawled like a spider under Rociel's silver eyelashes, and struck an awakening chord in his brain. Roused from the exhaustion that followed his depressive moods, he fluttered those lashes apart and gazed with slow, weary un-appreciation around the darkened room.
Alone. The house breathed loneliness, loneliness that seeped through his pores. With a rustle of black silk and a creak of black vinyl, Rociel swung his long legs off the couch and curled into a sitting position, raking his gloved fingers through long glossy silver blue hair. Eyes that scanned the dim chamber took in the familiar lines of furniture without much appreciation, immediately focusing on the one new thing in the room. A huge bouquet of white roses dominated the long mahogany table, spilling brilliant petals across the reddish wood. Nestled within the soft blossoms was a white card, edged with gold.
Very classy. Rociel allowed himself a brief, amused smile and got to his feet, gliding across the room toward the bouquet. His fingers tangled in wavy crystalline hair, raking it back from his face as he gazed down, slipping the half-hidden card out of its envelope and flipping it open absently.
"I send you a gift that is not truly appropriate. White roses must blush before your innocent, radiant beauty. I have loved you so long in silence, but now at last my heart's words can be heard. I adore you, Katan."
Rociel's eyes, nearly colorless cabochon gemstones, widened grotesquely. … Katan…?!
Hours later, the soft snick of the door closing and the low, careful tone of the younger angel greeted the atmosphere of an empty tomb. Concern shimmering in his topaz eyes, Katan slipped through the hall and into the large, ballroom-like parlor where Rociel was usually to be found.
"Rociel-sama?" he inquired softly. His only answer was panels of lacquered mahogany and curtains of gauze, which fluttered, in a soft wind from the open window. Katan frowned and came across the room to close it, his footsteps whispering over the wood floor in the eerie silence. If he noticed the new, ostentatious bouquet on the table, he assumed it merely another addition by Rociel's many admirers.
But as he passed the table, thinking perhaps his master had gone out to the balcony as he sometimes did, Katan's eyes caught the label on the card, placed even more strategically now.
Katan.
He stopped dead. Who could possibly be sending him flowers? He reached out with a slightly shaky hand, expecting the worst, and flipped open the card. Words leapt out of the page and into his brain, joining the deafening cacophony of blood that rushed there. Someone had been in love with him for a long time? He had never realized, always keeping a slight distance between the other angels, a distance born of necessary secrecy. The tone was so familiar… did he recognize the handwriting?
For a long while Katan studied the card, then his eyes popped open wide. If it were not so neat, he would almost say the handwriting was Rociel's! But…
The cherub felt his knees go weak. A hand, lightly pressed to the table, now became his support as his eyes closed, and images played over his eyelids he had never allowed himself to actively entertain till now. Could… Rociel-sama… possibly… love him?
Rociel-sama had changed so much.
"I'm pleased to see the note had such an affect on you… Katan."
Rociel's soft, melodic voice intruded on the whirling fringe of various emotions pummeling each other inside Katan's head. His uncertainty deepened, and a sick feeling was conceived in the pit of his stomach. That tone was too sweet. Like icing over sugar cubes. It always meant that Rociel was angry.
"R-rociel-sama…" Was all he could say, not really able to articulate anything. His brain was still arguing over whether he ought to apologize, ask for explanation, or simply gloss over the matter. His eyes did consent to open, and as he twisted a little at the waist he was able to catch his first look of the evening at Rociel. It was probably a mistake.
Always stunning, tonight the Inorganic Angel was breathtaking. Cascades of soft, silken hair, - metallic, with a glow of cold blue light, - dripped in large waves and curls around his slender shoulders. He had somehow clipped a few locks up on the left side of his head, so that the exquisite curve of one ear and the side of his neck was visible. The archangel's cross on his silver earring glittered and swung back and forth as if Rociel had just been moving.
Outlined in dark green kohl, his eyes had a sort of pale blue shimmer to them. Electric ice and stardust. Similar makeup- this time black, deep and wet looking, emphasized his full, pouty lips. And his outfit… well, it conspired to suck the life out of anyone looking at him. Starting from the neck, a soft black velvet choker radiated spider threads of silver chain, which fastened at various points in the black leather of his skintight vest. Under the vest was stretched silver mesh that truly looked like wire, shimmering in the amber light. As Rociel occasionally did in Katan's presence, he was wearing a skirt, black leather pornographically cupping the elegant lines of his hips and thighs, before the chain lacing up the side disappeared in a long slit, revealing thigh-high black leather boots on at least four-inch stiletto heels. Chains of diamonds were looped around the ankles.
Rociel was smiling, a soft dreamy smile, half-hidden by a lock of hair which he twirled and brushed against his lower lip. That smile made the temperature in the room drop by several degrees.
"I'm terribly sorry, Katan," he said quietly. "I trust I haven't interrupted?"
It hit Katan instantly- he hadn't sent the flowers, and he wanted to know who did. Unfortunately for himself, Katan had no idea.
"I don't know anything about this," he managed weakly, gesturing in the general direction of the table.
He hadn't been expecting the slap so soon, and the back of Rociel's hand made his vision go white. The force of it was bad enough, enough to knock the larger man off balance, but on top of that a powerful electric shock accompanied it, lighting Katan's entire body with agony. Despite his grip on the table, the cherub ended on his knees, tasting blood in his mouth from a cut lip.
"Was this the first gift sent by your little admirer, then?" Rociel's tone sounded so light, as if he didn't care at all.
"Yes… Rociel-sama…" Katan gasped. He didn't dare look up, just focusing on the floor and his own bodily functions, trying to control the urge to vomit. The after-effects of that harsh chastisement still sizzled in his veins.
"Get up." There was to be no argument with that tone. Katan slowly, entire muscular systems protesting, wedged himself on to his feet and stood up. Even with the head of height he held over Rociel, standing gave him no more power than he had on his knees.
"Who is it?" Long pale fingers trailed along the tabletop, pausing to press into a blushing white petal and guide it in a little spiral.
"I- I don't know." Katan knew that answer would not be one Rociel-sama wished to hear, but he truly didn't know.
That languid hand, whose motion had drawn the eye, now lifted slowly and pointed at the vase. Blue glass exploded, sending shards across the table, against the wall and reverberating off Katan's vinyl coat. Water spread out in an amorphous wave, soaking in the remnants of stem and flower, which looked haphazardly minced.
Katan felt himself tremble.
"Whoever it was should not have sent you roses," Rociel said softly. "Do you know why?"
Cheeks heated, Katan could not reply. He shook his head silently.
"Because…" Rociel's hand lifted to the collar fastened over Katan's coat. As a fashion statement, it was attractive, but truth be told, it was a collar. And his fingers hooked in it and dragged Katan out of the room behind him. "Roses also have thorns."
This rose, for instance. The Inorganic Angel paused in the center of his lounge area, simply staring upward at his "son". He found himself inexplicably fascinated by Katan's mouth. It was full-lipped, not wide, with naturally dark coloring between pink and copper. Due to the rapid shift of climate between heaven and earth, the lower lip was slightly chapped, and obviously once or twice bitten. That was actually slightly adorable, like the way those lips sort of parted as if he were going to speak, how those pretty amber eyes remained open wide, watching him with a sort of helpless fear, mingled always with… trust.
As if always, seconds after his master hurt him, he still trusted that pain would be controlled. Rociel wished he could trust himself so much, but he couldn't. Not these days- not with the memory of earth pressure against his eyes, scrambling his brains like so much yolk. To think that the unkillable machine, the filthy monster beyond the face of an angel, could be so delicate!
Not, however, as delicate as Katan.
Rociel gently pressed his fingertips against that dreamy, fascinating mouth. He felt the unbelievable softness of it, like a baby's skin. Felt the light quick beats of Katan's pulse through the lower lip. He was very agitated, wasn't he?
Rociel had never imagined in his wildest dreams that mouth would ever lie to him. To his knowledge, Katan had always been truthful to a fault, and he blamed this conceited grip on deception on whomever it was who dared to try to take Katan away from him. Nonetheless, he couldn't allow such a lapse to go unpunished.
"I will find out eventually, you know," he told his child levelly. His fingertips slid over Katan's chin and under it, stroking the soft arch of his Adam's apple and that columnar throat. Felt it swallow again, in dry- mouthed fear. Actually, Rociel could feel Katan's fear- like a steady pulse beat in the room. And he could smell it, like electricity. Clean, somehow.
"You—don't believe me?" Katan protested, obviously having to force himself to stand still under these unpredictable caresses. "Rociel-sama--!"
"Why should I believe you?" his tone was cold. Slowly, Rociel turned on one sharply angled boot heel and walked over to his divan, fingers spreading over the white suede, making patterns against it. Vinyl should have creaked as he sat down, but eerily, the movement was silent. "I'm supposed to believe those flowers were a prank? Or that a new admirer would address you so familiarly?"
"Rociel-sama!" Hesitantly, Katan crossed the room to sit next to his master on the divan. His eyes were so pure and innocent, candle-lit with the flames of protestation. Rociel wanted to tell him, no, don't come near me, don't you see that I'm angry? I will hurt you, and I will enjoy it, and I will hate myself for it…
He knew he'd been looking at Katan almost tenderly. He could feel the heat in his eyes sometimes. Katan was just so beautiful, so amazingly perfect for something so heavily influenced by Rociel's ugly energy.
He could also feel the heat leave it, as something hardened in his gut. "Methinks the gentleman protests too much." His fingers could feel the silken, warm softness of Katan's topaz-blue hair as they tightened over it, scalp-ripping pressure in those short waves. Heard Katan choke on an exclamation.
Then the tingling rose up his arm. Black energy, electric and dark, as unalive as the depths of the darkest caves, crawled along his bicep, danced over his elbow and ripped down over his forearm into that beautiful skull he held in his hands.
Katan screamed. And… The sound was hoarse, like the brave boy he was he was trying so desperately not to cry out. But the power Rociel was sending through his body would have reduced marble to sand. It would have sent the strongest man to his knees, and it quickly reduced Katan to a sobbing, helpless child.
Rociel forced his head down to rest on his knees and stopped his transfer of punishing energy. His other hand lifted, stroking Katan's scalp, massaging it. …love you for it…
Katan was crying. It made a part of his soul ache. He wanted so much to be the strong one, to swim the enormous, widening chasm between them so that he could really, truly, with all his soul take his boy in his arms and protect him from all that… from Rociel himself.
But since he could no longer do that, he had to pretend that he didn't care, had to pretend that… he was even stronger now. He slipped off the divan, rocking back on his heels, and pulled Katan easily against his chest, stilling those sobs, that trembling, pain-wracked body. His own hair fell everywhere, tickling haphazard channels over them both.
"Did that hurt?" As if he didn't know. As if he couldn't feel the pain- a curious sensation, stinging through Katan's smooth, perfect skin.
Katan only choked on his tears.
Rociel shook his head softly and leaned his cheek down against Katan's fevered forehead. "You know I'll only accept your absolute devotion or your absolute betrayal." Turning his head, his lips brushed over Katan's temple.
He thought he heard assent, forced out amid the hiccups of recovery. He was actually a bit impressed at how quickly Katan was regaining control. He was really very strong.
"So, do I keep you or kill you?" He asked lightly, brushing bluish hair out of the cherub's eyes and gazing down into them.
What he saw there completely unraveled him, down to his soul. There was still trust, there was still love, there was still devotion.
"In all the universe, I serve only you, Rociel-sama," Katan whispered, but the words took second place to that soul-shaking gaze. "Love only you, Rociel-sama…"
And for one breathless, never-ending instant the Inorganic Angel almost killed him. It would have been so simple, a single snap of that so- delicate spine, and Katan would die with that look in his eyes. He could have killed him in that moment. He loved him so much… and…
He really thinks I'm beautiful… he really loves me… As much as that meant, as much as it warmed some cold place inside him, it was a double-edged sword. How could someone be so innocent, so mistaken? How could he lie so deeply to himself, to Rociel, as if he didn't know what Rociel was? As if he didn't… tears burned in Rociel's eyes, and he closed them quickly, hiding it. Holding Katan so tightly it was a wonder the boy could breathe.
I can't lose him… He held on tightly. He held on as if he would never let go. "I'm sorry I hurt you… my Katan." Those last words, with such finality, such intensity, the closest he would ever get to admitting out loud.
I love him…