Crossover // Apeiron Academy: Part IV // bliss
Fandoms: Inuyasha, D.Gray-man
Focus: Naraku/Allen
Prompt: shampoo
Genres: Introspection, dark, romance
Rating: T
Wordcount: 1072
Summary: To destroy is to be destroyed.
Notes: Part four of Apeiron Academy. Baaaaad love.
IV: bliss
He exhales, and the candles flicker.
He knows that usually such things are reserved for romantic encounters, but that it not his intention. They calm him. Their wavering glow against the steamy dark helps his mind drift away from the daily stress of his life. All his fears sink into the water and are carried away from him.
Naraku is not weak. This is a ritual for him, and a powerful one. It takes away the doubts which cripple him and makes him certain.
A knock at the door-- the boy has arrived at last, several minutes late as usual. Naraku knows the boy leads a frenetic life at the academy he attends, but it wouldn't do to let him off without a scolding. Punctuality is important in the battlefield of business. Being late to engagements ensures that the enemy will get to high ground first. Chances of defeat rise with every moment wasted.
Bowing and smiling sheepishly, the boy comes in, arms full of bottles and towels. His smiles and apologies are too bright for Naraku to bear, so he turns away dismissively to save himself.
People at his level of power are entitled to such things as this, but it still feels like a risk, like he is softening with complacency before true invincibility is attained. What if someone were to pay the boy off to slip something into one of those bottles which would silence his mouth, darken his eyes, end his ambition forever? It wasn't impossible. He had stepped on many toes on his path to power. His influence now was great and widespread, a massive spiderweb the size of a city, but what if it isn't enough?
Still smiling brightly and chattering away as he was wont to do, the boy rolls up his sleeves and buries his shampoo-laden hands in Naraku's hair.
The bliss is immediate and breathtaking. The deft thumbs working at the base of his skull, the gently unpredictable tugging at his scalp, make his eyes slide helplessly out of focus. He has power over thousands upon thousands of people, but under this child's hands he is mere malleable putty.
He knows it would be a scandal if anyone ever found out. It would rock the foundations of his fledgling empire. It would reveal him to the world as the ugly thing he is, but even so he cannot resist.
The boy's name is Allen. He pretends not to remember it most of the time, but it is a lie, one of many when it comes to this. The boy's name is Allen and he falls asleep many nights with those two syllables resting on the tip of his tongue, unspoken desire.
Allen runs his fingers through the endless luxurious rivers of Naraku's hair, careful not miss even on stray lock. His hands rest warm and tender on Naraku's scalp, unflinching, unafraid, so very reminiscent of the one he refuses to let himself remember. Not even her name. He can't afford the weakness that comes with thoughts of her. That's why he chose to hire a boy for this-- a woman would have made the mandatory distance that much more difficult.
It hasn't helped all that much in the past, and it isn't helping now, because Allen is the kindest person he has ever met.
Naraku is cruel, he is corrupt, he knows his conscience is broken and does not regret it. Moreoever, he knows that Allen knows this. And yet, sometimes before he leaves Allen presses gentle kisses to his forehead and curls arms around his shoulders-- as though he cares-- and leans his face against the back of Naraku's neck and breathes like he's trying to memorize the moment.
He shouldn't. He is far too good a person to care about Naraku, but he does.
Sometimes, in his very weakest moments, Naraku dreams of reaching up with his own thin arms and dragging Allen into the water with him, possessing him, tainting the brilliant innocence which is his trademark. He wonders whether the inside of Allen's mouth would taste sweet or bitter, or both. The visions drive him half-mad, but he resists. The goal of power remains just clear enough in his mind to hold him up against temptation, but he can't help but wonder what Allen is thinking when he touches him. Does he enjoy it, or does he only pretend because he is handsomely paid for it?
Somehow, he can't think so. Allen's fingers linger too many moments too long for obligation. His eyes are too sad when he packs and leaves at the end of their evenings together. He is kind, but not innocent, not innocent enough for there to be no meaning behind his lips and fingers in the dark.
This evening is the seventh time. Seven is a magic number. Naraku doesn't believe in magic, but he does believe in scapegoats.
Allen's lips are on his brow, warm and impossibly compassionate. Without allowing himself enough time to think his way out of the mistake, Naraku tilts his head back and reaches up to catch his fingers in Allen's pale hair and draw him further down, closer in. The meeting feels somehow inevitable, but endlessly sweet nonetheless. Allen's mouth is warm. Neither sweet nor bitter, but as he had thought something nameless and aching in the middle.
Naraku is a terrible person. He knows this. He became this intentionally out of weakness and fear, and he sees no way back to what he once was. He does not deserve love, not from anyone, but this does not stop him from wanting it like the ache of starvation in his chest.
He kisses Allen from the memory of the soul he once had, and Allen does not pull away. It is more than he deserves and everything he has ever wished for. He will destroy this child, he knows, but he does not care. His heart is black and cold as ashes on the moon, but this... this burns like fire, and he is helpless to resist.
The truth is that even if he destroys Allen, the loss will destroy him right back.
XxxxxxxX
A/N: why is this pairing so hot, ohgod
Bonus:
Art by moko-moko, naturally. Sort of a prequel to the fic, I suppose. :D :D :D ♥
Focus: Naraku/Allen
Prompt: shampoo
Genres: Introspection, dark, romance
Rating: T
Wordcount: 1072
Summary: To destroy is to be destroyed.
Notes: Part four of Apeiron Academy. Baaaaad love.
IV: bliss
He exhales, and the candles flicker.
He knows that usually such things are reserved for romantic encounters, but that it not his intention. They calm him. Their wavering glow against the steamy dark helps his mind drift away from the daily stress of his life. All his fears sink into the water and are carried away from him.
Naraku is not weak. This is a ritual for him, and a powerful one. It takes away the doubts which cripple him and makes him certain.
A knock at the door-- the boy has arrived at last, several minutes late as usual. Naraku knows the boy leads a frenetic life at the academy he attends, but it wouldn't do to let him off without a scolding. Punctuality is important in the battlefield of business. Being late to engagements ensures that the enemy will get to high ground first. Chances of defeat rise with every moment wasted.
Bowing and smiling sheepishly, the boy comes in, arms full of bottles and towels. His smiles and apologies are too bright for Naraku to bear, so he turns away dismissively to save himself.
People at his level of power are entitled to such things as this, but it still feels like a risk, like he is softening with complacency before true invincibility is attained. What if someone were to pay the boy off to slip something into one of those bottles which would silence his mouth, darken his eyes, end his ambition forever? It wasn't impossible. He had stepped on many toes on his path to power. His influence now was great and widespread, a massive spiderweb the size of a city, but what if it isn't enough?
Still smiling brightly and chattering away as he was wont to do, the boy rolls up his sleeves and buries his shampoo-laden hands in Naraku's hair.
The bliss is immediate and breathtaking. The deft thumbs working at the base of his skull, the gently unpredictable tugging at his scalp, make his eyes slide helplessly out of focus. He has power over thousands upon thousands of people, but under this child's hands he is mere malleable putty.
He knows it would be a scandal if anyone ever found out. It would rock the foundations of his fledgling empire. It would reveal him to the world as the ugly thing he is, but even so he cannot resist.
The boy's name is Allen. He pretends not to remember it most of the time, but it is a lie, one of many when it comes to this. The boy's name is Allen and he falls asleep many nights with those two syllables resting on the tip of his tongue, unspoken desire.
Allen runs his fingers through the endless luxurious rivers of Naraku's hair, careful not miss even on stray lock. His hands rest warm and tender on Naraku's scalp, unflinching, unafraid, so very reminiscent of the one he refuses to let himself remember. Not even her name. He can't afford the weakness that comes with thoughts of her. That's why he chose to hire a boy for this-- a woman would have made the mandatory distance that much more difficult.
It hasn't helped all that much in the past, and it isn't helping now, because Allen is the kindest person he has ever met.
Naraku is cruel, he is corrupt, he knows his conscience is broken and does not regret it. Moreoever, he knows that Allen knows this. And yet, sometimes before he leaves Allen presses gentle kisses to his forehead and curls arms around his shoulders-- as though he cares-- and leans his face against the back of Naraku's neck and breathes like he's trying to memorize the moment.
He shouldn't. He is far too good a person to care about Naraku, but he does.
Sometimes, in his very weakest moments, Naraku dreams of reaching up with his own thin arms and dragging Allen into the water with him, possessing him, tainting the brilliant innocence which is his trademark. He wonders whether the inside of Allen's mouth would taste sweet or bitter, or both. The visions drive him half-mad, but he resists. The goal of power remains just clear enough in his mind to hold him up against temptation, but he can't help but wonder what Allen is thinking when he touches him. Does he enjoy it, or does he only pretend because he is handsomely paid for it?
Somehow, he can't think so. Allen's fingers linger too many moments too long for obligation. His eyes are too sad when he packs and leaves at the end of their evenings together. He is kind, but not innocent, not innocent enough for there to be no meaning behind his lips and fingers in the dark.
This evening is the seventh time. Seven is a magic number. Naraku doesn't believe in magic, but he does believe in scapegoats.
Allen's lips are on his brow, warm and impossibly compassionate. Without allowing himself enough time to think his way out of the mistake, Naraku tilts his head back and reaches up to catch his fingers in Allen's pale hair and draw him further down, closer in. The meeting feels somehow inevitable, but endlessly sweet nonetheless. Allen's mouth is warm. Neither sweet nor bitter, but as he had thought something nameless and aching in the middle.
Naraku is a terrible person. He knows this. He became this intentionally out of weakness and fear, and he sees no way back to what he once was. He does not deserve love, not from anyone, but this does not stop him from wanting it like the ache of starvation in his chest.
He kisses Allen from the memory of the soul he once had, and Allen does not pull away. It is more than he deserves and everything he has ever wished for. He will destroy this child, he knows, but he does not care. His heart is black and cold as ashes on the moon, but this... this burns like fire, and he is helpless to resist.
The truth is that even if he destroys Allen, the loss will destroy him right back.
XxxxxxxX
A/N: why is this pairing so hot, ohgod
Bonus:
Art by moko-moko, naturally. Sort of a prequel to the fic, I suppose. :D :D :D ♥