Challenge: december 2010
Title: Diabolus
Author: shyone
Genre: I really don't know- tragedy?
Pairing: Gackt/Chacha
Rating: nc-17
Summary: Gackt and Chacha are out for a night of clubbing
Notes: This is a death fic, but not really tragic or sad
Italics denotes afterlife
DIABOLUS
Gackt and Chacha were on their way out of town to a new, very exclusive club.
“Why so far out of town?” Chacha wondered as they sped down the dark rain-slicked road.
“Adds to the exclusivity,” Gackt answered, “and privacy,” he purred, letting his hand slide over his lover’s leather-clad thigh.
“Ah-” Chacha caught his breath as that hand caressed his leg. “leave it to you to find a club in the middle of nowhere,” he teased, looking out at the darkness that surrounded them.
Suddenly a deer leaped from the trees that crowded the side of the road into the path of the speeding car.
“Look out!” Chacha yelled. Gackt yanked hard on the steering wheel trying to avoid hitting the animal. The car skidded and veered across the wet, leaf-strewn road, jumped a ditch, and slammed into a tree.
A few minutes passed then a voice called out, “This is your emergency response center. We show that you’ve been in an accident. Do you need assistance?”
“Nnnnn, I’m not sure......” Gackt answered. He turned to look at Chacha. Chacha was unconscious, having hit his head against the door window. “Chacha!” Gackt called anxiously, “Chacha, are you all right?”
Chacha roused at the sound of Gackt’s voice and looked over at the singer. “Yeah, just a little shook up. How about you?”
Gackt let out a sigh of relief. “I’m ok, I think.”
“Sir! Sir!! I’m sending emergency vehicles out to your location. An ambulance should be there shortly.”
“We’re ok; no need for an ambulance.”
“Sir! Don’t worry. Help is on the way.”
“That’s not necessary!” Gackt answered louder than before.
The emergency dispatcher turned to his supervisor, “I’m not getting any response. We’d better get a medi-copter out immediately.”
“What do you mean there’s no response!? Just get us a tow truck!” Gackt shouted. He pounded on the dashboard of the car.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with the system, maybe we’re in a dead zone where they can’t hear us,” Chacha said. He opened his door, “Can you get out? Maybe if we get away from the trees we’ll be able to call them.”
Gackt nodded. He opened his door, and both men climbed out of the car. He took Chacha into his arms, holding him close. “Thank god you’re all right.” He looked down at the shorter man and kissed him deeply. Looking around to get his bearings, he took Chacha’s hand. “Come on, this way,” he said. They climbed through the brush and made their way back to the road.
Gackt pulled out his cell phone, but there was no signal. “Damn!”
“Look,” Chacha said pointing down the road, “lights. Maybe they’ve got a phone we can use.”
The two men walked toward the lights a few hundred meters down the road. A mansion sat back off the road down a wide, landscaped drive. They followed the path, lighted by dim solar powered lights, to a wide veranda. Highly polished wooden double doors were flanked on either side by torches that burned with a dull blue flame. Gackt raised his hand to knock just as the door opened. An enormously tall, muscular man smiled at them. He was shirtless, bald with piercings around one ear, and two rings in his lower lip; tribal tattoos adorned one side of his face and continued down his neck and shoulder, over his chest and down his arm.
“Welcome,” he said, and invited them in.
“Do you have a phone we can use?” Gackt asked. He received no answer.
They stepped into a cavernous, dimly lit room; loud club music pulsated and throbbed through the room. Men and women, most wearing leather, some nude, danced and writhed to the beat in the crowded room. A nude young man, spreader bar attached to his ankles, was chained to a hook suspended from the ceiling. The evening’s designated entertainment, he was open and vulnerable to whomever wished to use him, and a small crowd surrounded him awaiting their turn, some masturbating as they watched. Others around the room were engaged in various sexual encounters; and others were in dark booths with various drugs of choice. Still others were bound and being beaten or abused by muscular men much like the man who had opened the door. Smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, all the vices of society were rampant and freely available.
Gackt and Chacha made their way through the crowd, past grabbing, fondling hands to the bar at the back of the room. A bare-breasted woman with dark red hair that laid in curls over her shoulders served them drinks that glowed in layers of blue and red and yellow in the pulsing light. They leaned against the bar, Gackt’s arm draped possessively around Chacha’s shoulders. Chacha leaned back against his lover’s chest.
“It looks like a scene straight out of Dante’s Inferno, or a Hieronymus Bosch painting,” Chacha commented loudly, to be heard over the music.
“A very astute observation, Chachamaru” a soft, but commanding voice commented from behind them.
Both men turned in surprise toward the speaker. He was tall and slender; soft, dark blond hair framed a lovely, smooth face; soft, sensuous lips smiled, baring perfect teeth; and eyes dark as night seemed to glow red in the dim light.
“You know me?” Chacha asked in surprise.
“Of course. I know both of you. Very well,” The tall man smiled disarmingly.
“Gacchan, can I offer you a cigarette?” he continued, offering a pack of the vocalist’s favorite brand.
Gackt frowned at the inappropriate familiarity. He looked at the tempting package, licked his lips, and took a deep breath. “No, thanks, I gave up smoking a while ago, for my health.”
“That hardly seems to matter now,” the young man said. He gave a hauntingly familiar smile.
“Do I know you?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve talked on several occasions; though I don’t expect you to remember. But we’ve got plenty of time. We’ve got all the time in the world. Come, this room is a little over the top, even for me.” He put his arms around the two musicians and walked easily across the room.
“You know our names, but what do we call you?” Chacha asked, looking up into the face that looked so familiar to him.
“Oh, I have many names,” he answered, “Satan, Diabolus, Lucifer, Mara.”
He swept a dark gold drape aside and they passed through an open doorway, “But you can call me You.”
~~~~~~~
fin
Author: shyone
Genre: I really don't know- tragedy?
Pairing: Gackt/Chacha
Rating: nc-17
Summary: Gackt and Chacha are out for a night of clubbing
Notes: This is a death fic, but not really tragic or sad
Italics denotes afterlife
DIABOLUS
Gackt and Chacha were on their way out of town to a new, very exclusive club.
“Why so far out of town?” Chacha wondered as they sped down the dark rain-slicked road.
“Adds to the exclusivity,” Gackt answered, “and privacy,” he purred, letting his hand slide over his lover’s leather-clad thigh.
“Ah-” Chacha caught his breath as that hand caressed his leg. “leave it to you to find a club in the middle of nowhere,” he teased, looking out at the darkness that surrounded them.
Suddenly a deer leaped from the trees that crowded the side of the road into the path of the speeding car.
“Look out!” Chacha yelled. Gackt yanked hard on the steering wheel trying to avoid hitting the animal. The car skidded and veered across the wet, leaf-strewn road, jumped a ditch, and slammed into a tree.
A few minutes passed then a voice called out, “This is your emergency response center. We show that you’ve been in an accident. Do you need assistance?”
“Nnnnn, I’m not sure......” Gackt answered. He turned to look at Chacha. Chacha was unconscious, having hit his head against the door window. “Chacha!” Gackt called anxiously, “Chacha, are you all right?”
Chacha roused at the sound of Gackt’s voice and looked over at the singer. “Yeah, just a little shook up. How about you?”
Gackt let out a sigh of relief. “I’m ok, I think.”
“Sir! Sir!! I’m sending emergency vehicles out to your location. An ambulance should be there shortly.”
“We’re ok; no need for an ambulance.”
“Sir! Don’t worry. Help is on the way.”
“That’s not necessary!” Gackt answered louder than before.
The emergency dispatcher turned to his supervisor, “I’m not getting any response. We’d better get a medi-copter out immediately.”
“What do you mean there’s no response!? Just get us a tow truck!” Gackt shouted. He pounded on the dashboard of the car.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with the system, maybe we’re in a dead zone where they can’t hear us,” Chacha said. He opened his door, “Can you get out? Maybe if we get away from the trees we’ll be able to call them.”
Gackt nodded. He opened his door, and both men climbed out of the car. He took Chacha into his arms, holding him close. “Thank god you’re all right.” He looked down at the shorter man and kissed him deeply. Looking around to get his bearings, he took Chacha’s hand. “Come on, this way,” he said. They climbed through the brush and made their way back to the road.
Gackt pulled out his cell phone, but there was no signal. “Damn!”
“Look,” Chacha said pointing down the road, “lights. Maybe they’ve got a phone we can use.”
The two men walked toward the lights a few hundred meters down the road. A mansion sat back off the road down a wide, landscaped drive. They followed the path, lighted by dim solar powered lights, to a wide veranda. Highly polished wooden double doors were flanked on either side by torches that burned with a dull blue flame. Gackt raised his hand to knock just as the door opened. An enormously tall, muscular man smiled at them. He was shirtless, bald with piercings around one ear, and two rings in his lower lip; tribal tattoos adorned one side of his face and continued down his neck and shoulder, over his chest and down his arm.
“Welcome,” he said, and invited them in.
“Do you have a phone we can use?” Gackt asked. He received no answer.
They stepped into a cavernous, dimly lit room; loud club music pulsated and throbbed through the room. Men and women, most wearing leather, some nude, danced and writhed to the beat in the crowded room. A nude young man, spreader bar attached to his ankles, was chained to a hook suspended from the ceiling. The evening’s designated entertainment, he was open and vulnerable to whomever wished to use him, and a small crowd surrounded him awaiting their turn, some masturbating as they watched. Others around the room were engaged in various sexual encounters; and others were in dark booths with various drugs of choice. Still others were bound and being beaten or abused by muscular men much like the man who had opened the door. Smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, all the vices of society were rampant and freely available.
Gackt and Chacha made their way through the crowd, past grabbing, fondling hands to the bar at the back of the room. A bare-breasted woman with dark red hair that laid in curls over her shoulders served them drinks that glowed in layers of blue and red and yellow in the pulsing light. They leaned against the bar, Gackt’s arm draped possessively around Chacha’s shoulders. Chacha leaned back against his lover’s chest.
“It looks like a scene straight out of Dante’s Inferno, or a Hieronymus Bosch painting,” Chacha commented loudly, to be heard over the music.
“A very astute observation, Chachamaru” a soft, but commanding voice commented from behind them.
Both men turned in surprise toward the speaker. He was tall and slender; soft, dark blond hair framed a lovely, smooth face; soft, sensuous lips smiled, baring perfect teeth; and eyes dark as night seemed to glow red in the dim light.
“You know me?” Chacha asked in surprise.
“Of course. I know both of you. Very well,” The tall man smiled disarmingly.
“Gacchan, can I offer you a cigarette?” he continued, offering a pack of the vocalist’s favorite brand.
Gackt frowned at the inappropriate familiarity. He looked at the tempting package, licked his lips, and took a deep breath. “No, thanks, I gave up smoking a while ago, for my health.”
“That hardly seems to matter now,” the young man said. He gave a hauntingly familiar smile.
“Do I know you?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve talked on several occasions; though I don’t expect you to remember. But we’ve got plenty of time. We’ve got all the time in the world. Come, this room is a little over the top, even for me.” He put his arms around the two musicians and walked easily across the room.
“You know our names, but what do we call you?” Chacha asked, looking up into the face that looked so familiar to him.
“Oh, I have many names,” he answered, “Satan, Diabolus, Lucifer, Mara.”
He swept a dark gold drape aside and they passed through an open doorway, “But you can call me You.”
~~~~~~~
fin