[Fanfiction] - Kaname/Zero - Solace

Jan 26, 2009 17:20

Title: Solace
Fandom: Vampire Knight
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: KanamexZero, ZeroxKaname
Warnings: Violence, yaoi, non-explicit sex
Notes: Dedicated to butterflygirl_3, who asked for it a long time ago. I don't know if she'll like it, and I'm fairly sure it's not what she expected, but I hope she at least likes it a little. This humble authoress apologises for her total lack of writing ability at the moment. She hopes this is still passable.

Prompts were 'hands', 'roses', 'the Bloody Rose', 'wine glass' and the Rasputina lyrics 'Take your hatred out on me, make my victim your neck'

I was tempted not to post this, because I personally don't think it's any good, but I thought I might as well, in case someone else gets some enjoyment from it. :)

Summary: Bound together by blood, torn apart by love, both lost, both searching, can they find solace in each other?



1. There’s a wine glass on the table, and sinners on the floor. The pure moon should look away, but they hold her in their thrall.

There’s an overturned wine glass on the table, the thick liquid spilling over the rim in a pool of crushed velvet. Zero can smell the faintly repugnant scent of blood tablets, but that subtle perfume is almost entirely smothered by the exquisite smell of Kaname’s blood.

Their reflections distort in the glass, a tangled mess of limps, pale skin and ruby-tinted eyes. Zero bites down hard - harder than he should, his mouth latched onto the column of Kaname’s throat. Kaname arches his back, fists clenched by his sides, as Zero gorges himself on pure power.

Zero drags himself away, gasping, staring down at the vampire sprawled beneath him. Kaname’s shirt has slipped open, revealing the contours of his sculpted chest, and in the moonlight he looks like a marble carving of some pagan god, dangerous and volatile. Kaname watches him, face inscrutable, an odd heat simmering behind his eyes.

Then there are lips on his, fingers in his hair, a hand curled around the nape of his neck, holding him prisoner. Their lips meet, cling, taste, part, then meet again. Kaname kisses him slowly, sweetly, one hand sliding down his body to curl under the hem of his shirt. Zero knows he should pull away, know to his core that this is wrong, but something keeps him in place, some arcane magic holds him immobile as his lips part on their own volition.

Cold fingers brush against his hip, bringing with them the icy bite of reality. He shoves Kaname away, scrambling to his feet.

‘What the hell?’ Zero is panting, his rasping breaths the only sound in the silent room. Horror battles with the lingering memory of Kaname’s lips. Kaname remains sprawled on the floor, propped up on his elbows, looking up at Zero through lowered lashes.

‘You take my blood. Perhaps I wanted to take something from you.’

Zero’s reflection flickers through the glass as he stalks out. He slams the door and the table shakes, dislodging it. It topples onto the floor, spewing drops of liquid across the stone.

Kaname picks it up, twirling it absently between his fingers.

‘Or perhaps, Zero Kiryuu,’ he murmurs to the empty room, ‘perhaps I just wanted to.’

*****

2. Roses in the garden, roses by my bed. White roses speak of things long past, come let us paint them red.

Kaname turns the rose in his hands, careful of the thorns. Yuki pressed it into his hands, a sweet flush on her cheeks and her adoration plain in her eyes. A white rose. The irony is not lost on him.

White, the colour of purity. The colour of lilies. The colour of bone. When he plays chess, he plays black. The white is not for him.

But she would give him white. She would see it and think of him. But the image she has of him is a false as his smiles. She looks at him with innocent eyes, and they cannot see to the horrors of his heart. Cannot see that the elegant fingers tangled in her hair are pulling puppet’s strings even as they caress her.

His finger slips. A thorn bites deep into the pad of his finger, blood welling up. A drop falls to stain one of the velvety petals. For some reason he has a vision of amethyst eyes, staring at his with blatant accusation.

‘All you ever do is hurt her!’

He wipes the blood on his blazer. The wound has healed, but the memory of it remains.

*****

3. Your hands they do me violence, your hands they write my pain. Come closer, my sweet prince, and let us dance again.

Kaname’s hands are on his throat, slamming him back against the wall with devastating force. He realises then just how fragile he is in comparison to the pureblood, just how easily his skin would break and his bones would snap beneath those fingers. He is a poorly constructed doll in comparison to Kaname, his bones sticks of chalk, his skin stretches of weathered fabric, all tacked together with spit and twine.

‘Don’t forget what I am. What you are,’ Kaname hisses, tightening his grip. Zero can’t breathe, but as his vision begins to blur he can’t help but marvel at the savage, primeval beauty of the other vampire. He is a myth personified, his dark hair loose around his shoulder, his shirt open to bare the jut of his collarbone, his eyes oscillating between sultry brown and brilliant red.

‘How can I forget?’ Zero gasps, one hand tugging uselessly at Kaname’s hand, the other pressed against his chest. ‘How can I forget, when your blood reminds me day and night?’

Kaname releases him, and the violence fades from his countenance as quickly as it had appeared. He says nothing, mercurial as ever, merely tilts his head to bare his throat.

Zero wonders at that. Perhaps he feels he has revealed too much, allowing his careful control to slip for a moment. Or perhaps he simply knows, as Zero does, that the words that pass between them will never be enough.

Zero drinks, and the slender fingers that had etched out livid bruises on his throat only moments ago are suddenly twined in his hair, holding him close with something approaching tenderness. He pulls away to look at Kaname and is shocked by the pleasure on the other vampire’s face, his head canted back, his eyes closed, breath coming fast.

Kaname raises a finger to the wound on his throat, and it comes away sticky with blood. He presses it to Zero’s lips and without thinking the hunter parts them, licking away the blood. Kaname’s breath catches.

It is only later that Zero ponders the odd, unsettling intimacy of the gesture. He touches his own fingers to his lips, wondering.

‘What have you done to me, Kaname?

*****

4. Taste it, breathe it, feel it, this violence that you wreak. Don’t deny the truth, my love, it’s vicious but it’s sweet.

The gun is pressed to his breast, level with his heart. The iron is cool, but it sears him like a brand. Zero’s hand is steady, one finger curled around the trigger, his eyes as cold and remorseless as the winter wind.

‘I’m not your toy, Kuran,’ he says calmly. ‘Whatever you’re planning, whatever you want, I won’t let you use me.’

Kaname has to laugh then. Zero stares at him, his composure slipping for a moment.

‘Use you, Zero? You say that, you who still has my blood on his lips. Just who is using whom here, Zero?’

He steps forward, deliberately pressing himself against Zero so the barrel of the gun digs painfully into his ribs. There is only a hair’s breadth between their lips, and Zero finds himself caught up in the memory of the taste of them. Kaname’s blood tastes like life, but his lips taste like sin. He can feel Kaname’s breath on his skin, and something in him aches to close the distance between them.

There is a click as he flicks the safety off.

Kaname pulls away, an odd smile gracing his lips. Zero lowers the gun, tucking it away, ignoring ridiculously enticing picture the dishevelled vampire makes.

His hands, so steady as he promised Kaname death, are shaking now.

*****

5. Take your anger out on me, make my victim your neck. You never ever believed in me, I am your tourniquet.

Kaname doesn’t fight back. He lets Zero’s fist smash into his chin, allows himself to be driven to the ground, mouth full of his own blood, then lies supine beneath him. He can see his own death written all over Zero’s face.

‘You son of a bitch. You killed her.’

He doesn’t deny it. He can’t deny it. He did, in a way. He sees it too. The Yuki Zero loved has gone, as the caterpillar is obliterated even as the butterfly bursts from its chrysalis. The Yuki they have now is not the same. Not the same tempestuous, exuberant, frustratingly human bundle of awkwardness and straight forward charm.

Zero hits him again, and Kaname can feel the grief behind the punch. Can tell that Zero wants to hurt himself as much as he wants to hurt Kaname. The violence feels good because it destroys them both.

‘This is your fault.’

Zero wrenches his head back and he forces himself to stay still as death. Fangs bite deep into his throat and the agony rips through him. He closes his eyes, tears trickling from beneath his eyelids. He can smell the salt of them in the air. Zero pulls away, lips dark with blood, eyes feral.

It’s odd, because when Zero’s lips crash into his with bruising force he responds as though he’s been expecting it.

Their kisses are sticky with his blood, their touches too rough to be caresses. Buttons scatter over the floor, fingernails draw bleeding tracks over his back. He tangles his fingers in Zero’s hair, fusing their mouths together as Zero’s hands run over every curve and plane of his body.

If violence cannot be their oblivion, perhaps this will be.

They break apart, staring into each other’s eyes. The moment seems to drag on forever, a second of serenity in a blur of blood and chaos. They both freeze, bound together in an embrace that makes a mockery on tenderness.

This time, Zero’s kiss is gentle. He tastes like despair.

Kaname knows, knows this will hurt both of them, but part of him craves the pain.

Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Fingers slide on sweat, skin brushes against skin, and their kisses turn desperate again. They are lost, rudderless, caught up in a storm of their own making. Torn between swimming for the shore and surrendering to the ocean. Solace in death lasts forever.

And as he gasps Zero’s name to the night sky and the hunter shudders in his arms, he, for a single moment, forgets who he is, forgets what he is, forgets what he’s done.

He forgets it all in the arms of a man who hates him.

Solace is a funny thing.

fanfiction: vampire knight

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