Sixth and last of the series is Ryoma, in 1,560 words. Adult content warning at, er, a higher level than before? Original subtitle was "My darling, I only dreamt this," from "Robber Bridegroom" in the Grimm's fairytale collection.
Kiss from a Rose: Echizen Ryoma
[November 2005 :: Posted December 30, 2013]
The more I get of you, stranger it feels
And now that your rose is in bloom
A light hits the gloom on the grey...
Dreams. Fairytales. Nightmares.
Ryoma knew the moment he laid his eyes on him that Fuji was made of the very stuff of nightmares. In the nightclub, between the stifling heat and throbbing music, the cold smell of earth and rain that clung to Fuji was startling. And he was suddenly wide awake, his senses focused wholly on Fuji for the duration of the night, until Fuji left the club in the wee hours of the morning. As if compelled by a force beyond his control, Ryoma followed.
The winter sky was still dark when Ryoma caught up with him in a park, standing pensively before a frozen fountain. Fuji did not acknowledge him for a long moment, until the sky turned pale lavender. When Fuji did turn to glance his way, his had the strangest expression - not a smile or a frown, unidentifiable and out of place yet just right for his face. He blinked and suddenly Fuji was gone, and Ryoma remained in place until the sun rose and spread its golden rays over the park.
For the next week, Ryoma went to the same club every night, unconsciously searching for the blue eyes that seemed to stare into his soul in every dream. The days and nights went by like fever-induced dreams, and Ryoma was unaware of time passing. His time had stopped with those eyes, and he waited, and waited.
A week later, he saw Fuji again in the club, and Ryoma started, the shock of the blue eyes like icy water. Fuji was sitting half in shadows, unobtrusive, as if he had always been part of his surroundings. Before he even realized, Ryoma was already on his feet, crossing the dance floor. Fuji did not look up as Ryoma approached.
"...Hi," Ryoma said after full ten seconds of silence. Fuji looked up at him with a small smile of mild inquiry. Seconds ticked by, but Fuji remained patient, and finally Ryoma finished, "Do you want to dance?"
Fuji blinked, and smiled a little wider. "I'm sure you could find a better partner than someone like me."
"Yeah, probably," Ryoma agreed casually, and Fuji tilted his head, lips twitching lightly. "So, you want to?"
"All right." Fuji rose with preternatural grace, and Ryoma caught his breath when Fuji pulled him close, leading him to the dance floor. Fuji danced well. Too well. His movements were too precise, too controlled, too perfect. After another turn, Ryoma grabbed Fuji and pulled him close.
"Like you mean it," he said simply, and let go. Fuji smiled at him. Next moment, Ryoma found himself caught in Fuji's arms in a fluid, graceful movement, and swept up in the torrent of rhythm and drive of music. Ryoma did not remember how the dance went; the only thing he was aware of the whole time was Fuji's scent, the chill of Fuji's hand on his skin, and the blue eyes, azure touched with flecks of gold. When they finished and went off the dance floor, ignoring the applauses and admiring glances, Ryoma merely commented, "You're not bad."
Fuji laughed. "Likewise."
Ryoma dragged a hand through his hair. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" Fuji merely smiled a fraction wider, and Ryoma took his cold hand and led them away. When the hotel room door closed and locked behind them, Fuji looked at him with a mild inquiry in his eyes.
"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"
"Probably not," Ryoma said carelessly, pulling the tight shirt over his head and flinging it in the general direction of the chair. "Well?"
Fuji studied him for a moment, then stepped closer to the bed, holding out a hand in invitation. Ryoma climbed on the bed and lay back as Fuji crawled over him. Their eyes locked for a long moment, and the chill of Fuji's first touch and the taste of blood in his mouth made him start. Fuji drew back with a strange sort of smile that a cat might give to a cornered mouse, and Ryoma returned the look evenly, reaching up to trace Fuji's lower lip with his tongue. Inside Fuji's mouth, Ryoma immediately cut his tongue on the sharp incisors, but did not draw back, hearing a faint purr in Fuji's throat. With a movement too quick for eyes, Fuji had Ryoma pinned by the wrists, and started kissing and biting Ryoma's bare skin in earnest, and Ryoma moaned, tipping his head back, offering, and a moment later, he felt sharp teeth scrape against his throat. The sharpness pressed closer and Ryoma gasped in pain and shivered, morbidly fascinated by the pressure of Fuji's lips closing tightly around the wound. Fuji's hands caressed his chest, teasing his nipples and tracing his stomach, pulling his attention away from the soreness and discomfort of his throat, and Ryoma moaned, fingers digging into Fuji's back. He was not sure how Fuji managed to get his pants and underwear off so quickly, but decided he didn't really care as Fuji settled between his legs. Ryoma liked it rough perfectly fine, and shoved down to make his point when Fuji's fingers pressed inside him, and heard low, breathless chuckle that sent shivers down his spine. Fuji fucked him rough and fast and just when Ryoma thought he couldn't take any more, he felt Fuji's mouth on his throat again, and this time he screamed at the initial pain of the fangs sinking into his flesh with purposeful mastery. The pain did not pass, or at least, he could not tell if it had, but Fuji surged into him and the pain blended and bled into pleasure, hot and raw and overwhelming, until he was screaming, for Fuji to stop or to fuck him harder, he didn't know.
For an endless moment the entire world went white, and the next instant Ryoma was aware of his body again, aching and cold, and so very tired. Gray dots danced in his vision and he closed his eyes for a moment, but found it did not help. Ryoma did not bother trying to move when Fuji lovingly licked the bite mark and sat back, watching him with half-lidded eyes. Fuji's cheeks were tinged with color, and his entire body seemed to glow with sudden warmth.
"That..." Ryoma drawled tiredly. "...Hurt." The hooded look on Fuji's face lifted, and for a moment the blue eyes were clear as the autumn sky. Fuji smiled at him.
"You're lucky to have survived the experience, you know." His voice was rich with amusement, and Ryoma blinked again to clear his vision, then gave it up as a lost cause. Ryoma felt the bed dip when Fuji rose, and closed his eyes tiredly. There was a rustle of fabric, and Fuji pulled up the sheet to cover him, wrapping him snugly in the comforter. "I wonder if you will be so lucky next time?"
Ryoma yawned, but managed to open his eyes. "We could find out. Next time." Fuji's eyes became hard as glass, and the golden flecks in his eyes were like glitter of the stars in the cerulean sky. A warm, supple hand closed around Ryoma's throat, and Ryoma just looked at Fuji, not reacting as the hand squeezed tighter.
"You're quite beautiful," Fuji said conversationally. Ryoma was dizzy, his vision darkening around the edges, and he had to fight to keep his consciousness. "Death would love to have you as a paramour. He could take you this very night."
"But not tonight," Ryoma rasped. His heart was hammering, either from fear or the lack of air, but Ryoma felt alive as he never had since his father died three years ago. He kept his eyes fixed on Fuji's, until Fuji smiled a slow smile.
"You're right." The pressure on his throat eased just a little, Fuji leaned down to kiss him, sharp teeth cutting Ryoma's lips in the process. Fuji licked the blood away and brushed his hair back, looking into his eyes. "Next time."
Then the pressure on his neck was abruptly gone, and Ryoma blinked. The air rushing into his lungs disoriented him for a brief moment, but by the time he was aware of his surroundings again, there was no trace of Fuji in the room. The tick of the clock was loud in the silence, and Ryoma closed his eyes, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
In the game of cat and mouse he played with Fuji, he never knew exactly how close he was to true danger; he always knew it was very close. It did not matter. One only lost what one chose to stake in a game. And he was always the one who set the stakes in their game. That was why Ryoma enjoyed his games with Fuji, reveled in pushing the limits as far as he could. His father had trapped him in a game where he, as an unwilling player and participant, had no hand in the rules or the stakes, or could define what constituted a win or a loss. He trapped Fuji in a different game, and suspected Fuji knew exactly what he was doing - a toy toying with its master even as the master played with it. It did not matter.
In this game, there were no winners or losers - only victims.
Notes: Oddly enough, I don't particularly like vampire stories. Odder still, I'm in the process of finishing another TeniPuri vampire AU, although that one is vastly different from this series. (For one, that one is over 50K.) I don't remember how and why I picked Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" as the theme for this one, but the entire idea coalesced in my head while I was listening to the song. My first-ever image concerning this story was Tezuka and Fuji facing off each other in this dark, shadowed Gothic building, possibly a church courtyard, with a graveyard next to them. Everything was in black and white, and there were black roses blooming on the graves. That image was powerful enough to inspire a world of its own, back in 2005. Since it was supposed to be Gothic horror, I'd used more florid, purple prose than my usual. Upon re-reading this year, I decided the language is partly what makes this series tick, so quite unlike most of my other stories, this one was left largely alone. Some minor edits for continuity's sake, and that's about it.
I hope you enjoyed the ride. I did – though it remains to be seen if I'll still respect myself tomorrow morning. ;)
