Warmth Chapter I: The Visitor By Secret Yaoi Lover (AKA: Aubrey)

Disclaimer: Don't own Dragon Knights or any of their paraphernalia, blah, blah, blah, you've heard it all before.

This is my first real fanfiction. It's been ages since I've written something based on another series, and even then it was crappy, amateur, comedic stuff.

It's been ages since I've read Dragon Knights, so if I'm a little off or not up-to-date just sue me. I'll add it to my twenty thousand other lawsuits.

But even though it's been ages, the GilxRaamu (or Laamgarnas if it so suits you) has been rolling between my ears ever since I stumbled upon the angst ridden series. So here's my pathetic attempt at it. I'm not expecting reviews, but I'd appreciate any compliments, criticims-- even flames-- since I really am trying to become a better writer.

As for the story-- it's a yaoi romance between Gil and Raamgarnas (and I will spell his name that way thank-you-very-much). If you don't know what that means, then you probably shouldn't be here. Oo; I'm rating it "T" now, but it could get more sexual so be forewarned!

For everyone else, please enjoy.

Gil inhaled one long, shuddering breath. The floor was cold, and dyed with the colors of old and new bloodshed. Dark and melancholy, the acrylic splashes of red painted the dance steps of his history.

An equally long exhalation. He pondered how a floor could be so cold with all the days (weeks? years?) of warm blood dripping into it-- out of him. Getting a bit colder each time it lapped up the blood of it's victim.

Gil rolled onto his side, stretching one gangly arm out in front of him, and reaching around himself to touch his back. Red stains there too. But the bleeding would stop eventually. It always did, and if it didn't, Shydeman would take him under his wing-- and into his bed.

He pushed the thought aside and rolled over again, onto his chest and pushed himself upright. His arms were still shaking, and Gil only managed to spit the bitter taste of come from his mouth before collapsing again.

It was no use to argue unfairness. It was just another day. Maybe if he believed it was just the same day repeating, it would be more bearable-- more merciful-- to imagine just one day of torture, instead of an endless amount. That way it really never started, and he the ending could just be right around the corner.

He closed his eye and lay motionless, his left cheek pressed against the floor, raping him of any heat that he had left. Gil prayed for a few more moments of silence. A few more seconds of this quiet hiatus between now and the next pleasure seeking guest.

The creaking of the large door drained him of his meager hopes, and he shrank back at the boot enveloped footsteps that followed. He didn't want to look his newcomer. Sometimes it was better if he didn't, and not knowing whether it was man or woman who inflicted his pain, he could dream his way past it, and through it. Though sometimes his unresponsiveness only led to worse affliction.

The person had stopped. He thought he could hear him breathing-- had he been running? Or was he nervous or even frightened? The thought almost struck him as funny. Maybe he was new to this fortress.

"G-Gil?"

His name. He hadn't heard it in a while, ever since pet names apparently became the new fad. It was a curious anomaly, and maybe it was worth seeing who this hesitant, formal voice belonged too.

He opened his good eye, and found his hair hanging in front of his face in dirty wispy locks. Gil forced himself to sit up, his arms still shaking. A sharp pain along his shoulder blades reminded him that the scratches hadn't healed yet.

Maybe that's why the man before of him looked so tense-- so worried. Did he grow nauseous at the sight of blood? That suggestion was even funnier than the last. Gil looked up at the man, twisting his weary gaze into a scowl. A snarl began to form in the back of his throat. Sure it never worked before, but maybe he could drive this one off with some small intimidation.

The man's eyes softened. "I've finally found you," his voice was soft, "You are the one they call Gil, yes?" He took one step forward, and then another.

Gil began to growl a bit louder. He made sure he was showing just how long his fangs were. They were rather small compared to most of the creatures that had stormed into this room-- but you had to make the most of what you had, or what was left. A sick sensation began to form in his stomach. Gil stood his ground, biting back his anxiety. Even this man-- this boy-- was giving him repulsive flashbacks (and forwards).

"Don't be afraid," he said, "Please-- my name is Raamgarnas. I'm not going to hurt you."

He was moving towards him with more confidence now. Gil fought the urge to close his eyes. He hissed at him, and hoped that he would believe he was shaking with anger.

"Look what they've done to you." His voice had dropped to a whisper, "I'm going to get you out of here, I going to save you."

No. Gil was overcome with thoughts of a coarse tongue against his chest, teeth digging into his shoulders, claws slashing down his legs, fingers creeping up against-- into-- his naked body. He crawled back a couple of inches, not breaking his gaze with his new enemy.

"Gil..." When did he get so close? The man knelt down in front of him, staring back at him with those sympathetic eyes. He reached out a hand-- no claws, no scales, no spines--

No!

Gil lashed out at him, leaving three bold stripes across his palm. Gil was shaking so hard. Why wouldn't he just grab his hair and strike him? Why wouldn't he hold him down as he bit into his neck and spread his legs? Why wouldn't--

The hand, now beginning to run crimson, touched face. Gil stiffened. All he could do is stare at him with wide eyes. And tremble. Tremble and tremble and tremble.

The boy made a choking noise and suddenly pulled Gil towards him, enveloping him in an embrace. He was also trembling-- but with... sobs?

Gil had stopped shaking, but the paralysis was still there. His head was tucked into the man's shoulder, warm and guarding.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into his ear, "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise. Tomorrow-- wait for me tomorrow."

Tomorrow?

He held onto Gil for a few more, lingering moments, before releasing him and holding him at a little less than arms length. "You don't have to suffer anymore. Please wait for me tomorrow."

Gil gazed blankly at the boys chest. What was he hearing? Was this even real? He wondered if he had fallen asleep, but even in his dreams there had been no one-- no one-- who had said anything like this.

"Gil? Gil do you understand?" He didn't strike him to gain his attention. He was patient, his hands holding his shoulders. Gil looked up at him, and then back at the floor. It wasn't real, it couldn't be.

"Please just--" the man sighed, knowing that any suggestion he made would be practically impossible, "--Just... hang in there."

Gil watched him get to his feet, and begin to walk towards the doorway. He paused at the exit, giving him a weak smile before passing through and shutting the door into silence, as if he had never been there.

Gil closed his eyes, pulling his legs in towards him.

He wasn't cold anymore.

:edited 8-31-05: