[Fanfiction] - Kaname/Zero - Need (Repost)
Title: Need (2/5)
Fandom: Vampire Knight
Characters/Pairing: Kaname/Zero
Rating: M
Warnings: Slash, angst, violence, minor BDSM themes, Zero being uncharacteristically sensitive? xD
Notes: AU, but could technically probably slot in to canon just after the end of season 1 of the anime. I also feel I should mention that Kaname's past, which is alluded too, is from my imagination, though influenced by both Sagakure and Blackened Wing. I hope they don't mind me drawing influence from their work :)
Disclaimer: If I owned several insanely attractive vampires would I be on LJ posting fanfiction?
Summary: When hatred and humiliation war with need, blood will be spilled. But even as some wounds are opened, other might heal.
Kaname seized Zero’s wrist just as the younger vampire lunged, wrenching him around and slamming him back into the trunk of a tree. The violence mingled with the hot, sweet scent of blood as Zero snarled at him, purple eyes suffocated in crimson. He fought the urge to respond in kind, pinning Zero back and immobilising the hand scrambling for the Bloody Rose. He caught the hunter’s wrists above his head, pressing them back hard against the trunk until he scented blood and knew the bark had pierced skin. Pressed against Zero as he was he could feel every contour of the other vampire’s body pressed against his, feel the steel of the gun under the thick fabric of his blazer. The night was cool and the moon had shielded her maiden eyes with her dark veil, the smattering of stars visible between the voluminous clouds the only source of light. A hunting night.
He heard the two venturesome day class girls retreating, taking with them the tangy perfume of blood, utterly unaware that their grisly death was thrashing against his hold barely metres from where they were stumbling through the bushes, giggling and swearing. Zero was breathing raggedly, still fighting him, though he could never have hoped to break Kaname’s iron grip. He was magnificent like this, his hair tousled, eyes wide and blazing with hunger, entire being devoured by the primal instinct screaming at him to hunt, to kill. Beyond control, a slave to the monster inside him. Mesmerising.
Kaname backhanded him calmly across the face, the slap incredibly loud against the silence of the night. Zero slumped forward, the red ebbing from his eyes like ink draining from an inkwell. He looked up at Kaname through his lashes, shame radiating from every pore. A part of Kaname was viciously satisfied. Let him feel the caustic, agonising sensation as humiliation tore through his blood, his veins, his soul, slicing him open and leaving him to bleed. Memories, ones he’d thought he’d locked away in a silver box, flooded back. Fingers on his wrists, shackling him, the fear and the exhilaration, eyes devouring his body, reckless vulnerability, naked need in brilliant eyes…the sting of repulsion, the shock, the disgust…he choked back the urge to strike Zero again, stepping back and relinquishing his hold on the other vampire. Zero sagged against the tree, unable to look at him.
‘Is this what you’ve become?’ Kaname asked coldly, straightening his blazer. The mask, so nearly shattered, had slipped back onto his face, the pieces on the floor replaced on the board. The broken glass had been swept away, tiny fragments of blood and memories gathered up like dead petals, lifeless and shrivelled. ‘Little more than an animal,’ he continued, ‘a beast, driven only by hunger.’ Zero glared at him defiantly and Kaname could tell the very act of staying upright was taxing him beyond measure. He was shaking, hunger clearly gnawing at his bones. He needed blood, needed it soon. Kaname looked down at him, unable to move himself to pity. Every instinct he had screamed at him to destroy this creature who had come all to close to seeing the face that lay behind the mask, to drive him down and crush him until he was no longer a threat, no longer a danger.
Blood on his back, in his mouth, hot on his skin…it was like ice, the pain, shards of ice driven into his flesh, was he screaming? Someone was screaming…he was choking, choking on blood, suffocating…he realised he was driving his fingernails into his palms and unclenched his fists before he drew blood. That was the price of vulnerability. Offer up the keys to your soul and someone will take them, use them and lay you out on the ground, naked and bleeding. He was iron now, untouchable, unbreakable. Pure metal, moulded into perfection, no chink in that armour. Innocence was a small price to pay for power. But Zero…Zero had seen the bare truth in his eyes, Zero had held him down, he had permitted Zero that power, and he had been punished for it.
‘And whose fault is that?’ Zero snarled. Kaname turned away, before the monster baying just below his skin drove him to do something he would regret. Zero had torn open wounds he’d thought long healed, and left to fester they brought a particularly potent form of poisonous fury to the surface. He began to walk away, the light breeze playing with his dark hair. There was a spot of Zero’s blood on his cuffs. He’d have to see to that before the morning, bloodstains on white fabric told too much truth.
‘Kuran…’ He glanced over his shoulder and froze, arrested by the look in Zero’s eyes. He knew the other vampire would never apologise, no expression of sorrow would ever slip from between those full lips, but there was regret in his brilliant eyes that spoke louder than words ever could. It twisted the knife in his heart a little deeper. So open, so vulnerable, it made him shudder just to think of it. He’d handed Zero a gun and pressed it to his own temple, why had he been shocked when the boy had pulled the trigger? He was too old for trust. He’d had that whipped from him a long time ago. Still, it was Zero, not him, who was halfway to the ground, hunched over in mingled pain and guilt, pitiful and alone.
‘Yes?’ he asked lightly, a though they were discussing the weather. Zero stared at him, lips parted, and he made to turn away again.
‘Please.’ Zero gasped it like a prayer and Kaname could hear how much the words cost him. Please…he remembered please. Remembered those temptingly parted lips, the unconsciously coquettish look, the desperate, glazed look in those eyes. Something inside him hardened, freezing away the buds of what might have been pity as ice withers the tender blossoms of spring.
‘Please? Please what, Zero?’ He half smiled maliciously, stepping back towards the young vampire. Zero swayed a little, struggling to stay upright, a tempting creature of vulnerability and determination, hatred warring with desire on that lovely face. ‘Well?’ Kaname prompted him teasingly, tilting his head a little.
‘Please…’ Zero hesitated, unable to say the words. Kaname shrugged nonchalantly, turning away again. He enjoyed this game, and he was good at it. Zero had stolen something from him, driven a dagger into his heart and snatched away the last remnants of something precious. All was fair in blood and war.
‘Let me take your blood,’ Zero finished, spitting the words out as if they burned his throat. Kaname smiled, gleaning a twisted satisfaction from his helplessness. Let him plead. Let him beg for this, what he’d tried so hard to reject. Let him burn for it, crave it with his heart and soul, be willing to sacrifice everything, anything, his dignity and his pride for the promise of sanity. Let him feel what it was to suffer.
‘And why would I do that?’ Kaname asked, tugging absently at his collar. Zero watched him intently, red threads woven through the amethyst of his eyes.
‘Because I…’ Kaname took another step closer as Zero sank to his knees, still clutching the tree for support. The hunger took ex-humans much harder than it did born vampires. Kaname could resist it for days, weeks, perhaps even months, yet Zero was a slave to it, unable to break away from the fetters of desire.
‘Because you need it?’ Kaname inquired. ‘Because you want it? Because without it, you will descend to the level of a monster, cringing away from the light, crawling through filthy alleys in your search for blood until I drive a knife into your heart? Because it is the only thing that can save you from chasing, from hunting, from killing?’ Zero flinched as if he’d been struck. Kaname continued ruthlessly, taking another step closer and staring down at the crumpled vampire. ‘What would you do, Zero, for that blood? To save yourself? Would you attack me? Would you plead with me? Would you beg me?’
Zero stared at him with something between incredulity and horror. Kaname wondered then if he would. Would he beg to retain his sanity? Would his fear of the darkness screaming within him for sustenance lay him that low? A part of him was tempted to find out, to extract from him in blood payment for every moment of humiliation he’d felt, every bleeding cut he’d had to staunch all over again. Zero just looked at him, sprawled against the tree like a rag doll, limbs splayed, face contorted with pain. ‘Would you beg?’ he asked again lightly. Zero looked down, running a shaking hand through his hair.
‘No,’ he muttered defiantly. Kaname wondered at that. He’d gamble his sanity for the sake of his pride. He smiled, shaking his head, savouring the futile resistance. This felt better. This was control. He was in control.
Chains, there were always chains in the darkness, the chains had fangs…they tore at him, devouring him, ripping away his pride…he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all be could hear was his gasping, ragged breaths…the pain kept him here, the pain was real, the pain, the pain…pain…
He shuddered trying to shake away the memories. Zero was watching him again, but this time with something it took Kaname a moment to recognise. Pity. Zero pitied him? He, Kaname Kuran, had incited the sympathy of a starving ex-human, a vampire hunter who’d morphed into his own worst nightmare. Nobody had ever dared pity him before. Hate him, worship him, crave him…pity was new, and it seared like silver.
‘I'm curious,' he said softly, feeling as though he was somehow watching himself from a distance, a casual observer within his own mind as he tried to sew up the scars he’d thought long healed with a darning needle. ‘What would you do for my blood?’ he enquired again, tilting his head in askance, wondering. ‘Would you try to take it if I didn’t offer it freely?’
He wouldn’t beg, he wouldn’t let himself break, had to hold himself together, focus, focus on the rage burning within him, white light, white like the pain, he wouldn’t break, wouldn’t break, wouldn’t break…
His lips parted slightly as he bit back the memories, breathing in deeply and forcing back the emotion. Why now? What had this silver haired sylph done to him, to force things he’d though long forgotten back to the surface? Kaname watched him carefully, drinking in every flicker of emotion on that mesmerizingly expressive face, everything from shame to need to rage to hate. He felt a sudden, hot spurt of disgust. Was this what he’d become? One of them? But he needed…he needed to be in control. It was all he had, all he could hold on to. Stay in control and nothing will hurt you.
‘Why?’ Zero asked huskily, sounding almost defeated. Kaname hesitated. Why indeed? Because this game was all about power. Words became daggers, looks morphed into swords, gestures turned to bullets, everything was weighed and measured, every card painted in blood and sin laid out on the table in the end. He needed the aces, not because he wanted them, but because having all the cards in his elegant hands was as natural to him as breathing. He’s been bred on politics and power, baptised in the blood of those he’d loved, caught up in a web of lies and violence until he’d torn himself free, vowing to never permit himself the same weakness again.
‘Because I can,’ he said absently.
Silver digging into his skin, blistering, burning, straining, snapping and he was free, stumbling free, tasting the fear in those cold, dead eyes…moving, fighting, killing, so natural, should it feel this good? Why? Because he could, because he can, because he wanted too.
Zero was still dangerously tempting, sprawled as he was on the ground, clothing rumpled. Unconsciously sensual, utterly unaware of the potency of his own allure. Or perhaps not. Kaname remembered all too well how deadly that seemingly grudging capitulation could be.
‘Because you need too,’ Zero corrected him softly. Kaname looked at him sharply, their eyes holding. The animosity was gone, replaced by something he couldn’t recognise, something odd changing in Zero’s face. It wasn’t pity, wasn’t empathy, wasn’t anything that could be named or categorised. Zero just looked at him through wide, almost innocent amethyst eyes, hunger making him seem both immeasurably old and unthinkably young. Something inside him cracked, held and broke. The anger was still there, the shame, the pain, but they were muted somehow, the blades wrapped in soft purple silk, the bruises fading and the cuts knitting. He needed nobody, so why did he feel suddenly, heart-wrenchingly, desperately lonely?
Part of him still wanted Zero to suffer, still wanted to force out every inch of grudging obeisance, wanted that sharp taste of sadism. But the suffering in Zero’s eyes softened something inside him, fool that he was.
He drew a nail swiftly across his wrist, inhaling the scent of his own blood. Zero went rigid, eyes flooded suddenly with red. He began to clamber to his feet but Kaname stilled his with a gesture. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You can stay on your knees.’ Zero had, after all, not quite payed his debt. He saw anger flash across the hunter’s face before it was obliterated by need. He held out his bleeding wrist, watching as rivulets of blood ran over his pale skin. Zero seized his forearm, nails biting into his skin, and lowered his head to the blood. He expected him to sink his fangs into the wound, to try to exact a little vengeance for the games they’d been playing. He expected him to be brutal, driven as he was by need. He expected it to hurt. He was wrong.
Zero sank his fangs in gently, almost tenderly, his tongue darting out to catch the stray blood trickling over Kaname’s wrist. He knelt there, head bowed as if in prayer, drinking the blood with all of the passion but none of the violence Kaname had anticipated. His grip slackened as he drank, his breathing steadying, some of the tension flowing from his limbs. Kaname shut his eyes, allowing himself a single moment of weakness as Zero pulled the life from his veins. He was still in control, still the master here, but for one, fleeting second he could allow himself to only feel, to experience the pure, raw sensation as his essence flowed from his blood into Zero’s. Nobody had ever dared touch him as Zero did, without reverence or caution, nobody had needed his blood with the same irrefutable fervour.
He felt Zero stop drinking, but the younger vampire stayed on his knees, lips resting against the gash on Kaname’s wrist. Kaname pulled away, unwilling to prolong the mockery of affection, and Zero stared up at him through pleasure glazed eyes, blood smeared over his lips. He was a picture of temptation pulled from some gothic artwork, an angel with his moonbeam hair and alabaster skin, lips dyed to ruby and eyes darkened with satisfaction. The shadows behind him could almost have been wings. Kaname reminded himself that this was a transaction, a deal with the devil Zero agreed to for the sake of his sanity.
Gently, Zero took his wrist again, raising it to his lips. Kaname tried to stay frozen as Zero hesitated, breath hot against his skin, fangs just grazing the edges of the wound. He could feel the younger vampire trembling. Zero bit down again cautiously, the sting of his fangs almost negated by the strange wholeness that came as he drank, slowly, savouring each drop of blood. Kaname shut his eyes, willing himself to stay cold, stay distant.
On its own volition, his hand moved to tangle in Zero’s hair, holding him gently, playing with the silvery strands. Zero’s breath caught for a second and Kaname stilled, heart rate surging to a crescendo in a frantic tattoo he knew Zero would be able to sense. Again…not again…please, not again. Sometimes he wondered if one day he would simply fall to pieces, melt away like Narcissus until he was merely a pile of soft white petals to be scattered by the autumn winds, tossed too and fro by the capricious sister of weary winter and solipsistic summer. But no. That way was not for him. He couldn’t find solace or companionship even in his own reflection. He could stare into the mirror, but the eyes that looked back at him held no warmth.
For a second, an agonising second, Zero held the knife at his throat, and Kaname was sickeningly certain he would drive it home. Then his lips closed over the wound again and he continued drinking carefully. Kaname didn’t move, couldn’t move, bound in place by the seraph kneeling at his feet. He felt almost giddy, dizzy with relief, and terrified beyond all measure by the unwelcome contentment flooding through his veins. He felt tears prickle in the back of his eyes and tensed, horrified. Twelve years, it had been twelve years since he’d smelt the salt of his grief on his cheeks. What was Zero doing to him, to bring tears welling to the surface? To bring about this peculiar tightness in his chest? He swayed a little, suddenly unsteady, and realised that Zero had taken perhaps more than was necessary.
Zero,’ he said, voice perfectly steady. Zero stopped, lifting his head again as his eyes slid from crimson to amethyst, traces of blood fresh on his lips. Zero released his wrist and he lifted it to his own mouth, sealing the wound with his tongue. Zero watched him, but this time without the same predatory desire. Kaname shifted, suddenly uncertain. There was nothing to say, no words that could do anything but harm, that could do anything but shatter this delicate, fragile peace. So he said nothing, letting his eyes tell all of the truth he dared reveal, and turned away, leaving Zero kneeling behind him.
‘Kaname…’ Zero’s whisper was soft, but he heard it easily. He turned. Zero was still on his knees, an unreadable expression gracing his handsome face. He hesitated for a second, looking down, then met Kaname’s eyes with all the courage of a born hunter.
‘Thankyou,’ he said quietly. He held Kaname’s gaze for a moment then looked away again, staring off into the night. Kaname walked away without a word, breathing in the night air. He reached up to push an errant lock of hair from his face.
His hand was shaking.
Fandom: Vampire Knight
Characters/Pairing: Kaname/Zero
Rating: M
Warnings: Slash, angst, violence, minor BDSM themes, Zero being uncharacteristically sensitive? xD
Notes: AU, but could technically probably slot in to canon just after the end of season 1 of the anime. I also feel I should mention that Kaname's past, which is alluded too, is from my imagination, though influenced by both Sagakure and Blackened Wing. I hope they don't mind me drawing influence from their work :)
Disclaimer: If I owned several insanely attractive vampires would I be on LJ posting fanfiction?
Summary: When hatred and humiliation war with need, blood will be spilled. But even as some wounds are opened, other might heal.
Kaname seized Zero’s wrist just as the younger vampire lunged, wrenching him around and slamming him back into the trunk of a tree. The violence mingled with the hot, sweet scent of blood as Zero snarled at him, purple eyes suffocated in crimson. He fought the urge to respond in kind, pinning Zero back and immobilising the hand scrambling for the Bloody Rose. He caught the hunter’s wrists above his head, pressing them back hard against the trunk until he scented blood and knew the bark had pierced skin. Pressed against Zero as he was he could feel every contour of the other vampire’s body pressed against his, feel the steel of the gun under the thick fabric of his blazer. The night was cool and the moon had shielded her maiden eyes with her dark veil, the smattering of stars visible between the voluminous clouds the only source of light. A hunting night.
He heard the two venturesome day class girls retreating, taking with them the tangy perfume of blood, utterly unaware that their grisly death was thrashing against his hold barely metres from where they were stumbling through the bushes, giggling and swearing. Zero was breathing raggedly, still fighting him, though he could never have hoped to break Kaname’s iron grip. He was magnificent like this, his hair tousled, eyes wide and blazing with hunger, entire being devoured by the primal instinct screaming at him to hunt, to kill. Beyond control, a slave to the monster inside him. Mesmerising.
Kaname backhanded him calmly across the face, the slap incredibly loud against the silence of the night. Zero slumped forward, the red ebbing from his eyes like ink draining from an inkwell. He looked up at Kaname through his lashes, shame radiating from every pore. A part of Kaname was viciously satisfied. Let him feel the caustic, agonising sensation as humiliation tore through his blood, his veins, his soul, slicing him open and leaving him to bleed. Memories, ones he’d thought he’d locked away in a silver box, flooded back. Fingers on his wrists, shackling him, the fear and the exhilaration, eyes devouring his body, reckless vulnerability, naked need in brilliant eyes…the sting of repulsion, the shock, the disgust…he choked back the urge to strike Zero again, stepping back and relinquishing his hold on the other vampire. Zero sagged against the tree, unable to look at him.
‘Is this what you’ve become?’ Kaname asked coldly, straightening his blazer. The mask, so nearly shattered, had slipped back onto his face, the pieces on the floor replaced on the board. The broken glass had been swept away, tiny fragments of blood and memories gathered up like dead petals, lifeless and shrivelled. ‘Little more than an animal,’ he continued, ‘a beast, driven only by hunger.’ Zero glared at him defiantly and Kaname could tell the very act of staying upright was taxing him beyond measure. He was shaking, hunger clearly gnawing at his bones. He needed blood, needed it soon. Kaname looked down at him, unable to move himself to pity. Every instinct he had screamed at him to destroy this creature who had come all to close to seeing the face that lay behind the mask, to drive him down and crush him until he was no longer a threat, no longer a danger.
Blood on his back, in his mouth, hot on his skin…it was like ice, the pain, shards of ice driven into his flesh, was he screaming? Someone was screaming…he was choking, choking on blood, suffocating…he realised he was driving his fingernails into his palms and unclenched his fists before he drew blood. That was the price of vulnerability. Offer up the keys to your soul and someone will take them, use them and lay you out on the ground, naked and bleeding. He was iron now, untouchable, unbreakable. Pure metal, moulded into perfection, no chink in that armour. Innocence was a small price to pay for power. But Zero…Zero had seen the bare truth in his eyes, Zero had held him down, he had permitted Zero that power, and he had been punished for it.
‘And whose fault is that?’ Zero snarled. Kaname turned away, before the monster baying just below his skin drove him to do something he would regret. Zero had torn open wounds he’d thought long healed, and left to fester they brought a particularly potent form of poisonous fury to the surface. He began to walk away, the light breeze playing with his dark hair. There was a spot of Zero’s blood on his cuffs. He’d have to see to that before the morning, bloodstains on white fabric told too much truth.
‘Kuran…’ He glanced over his shoulder and froze, arrested by the look in Zero’s eyes. He knew the other vampire would never apologise, no expression of sorrow would ever slip from between those full lips, but there was regret in his brilliant eyes that spoke louder than words ever could. It twisted the knife in his heart a little deeper. So open, so vulnerable, it made him shudder just to think of it. He’d handed Zero a gun and pressed it to his own temple, why had he been shocked when the boy had pulled the trigger? He was too old for trust. He’d had that whipped from him a long time ago. Still, it was Zero, not him, who was halfway to the ground, hunched over in mingled pain and guilt, pitiful and alone.
‘Yes?’ he asked lightly, a though they were discussing the weather. Zero stared at him, lips parted, and he made to turn away again.
‘Please.’ Zero gasped it like a prayer and Kaname could hear how much the words cost him. Please…he remembered please. Remembered those temptingly parted lips, the unconsciously coquettish look, the desperate, glazed look in those eyes. Something inside him hardened, freezing away the buds of what might have been pity as ice withers the tender blossoms of spring.
‘Please? Please what, Zero?’ He half smiled maliciously, stepping back towards the young vampire. Zero swayed a little, struggling to stay upright, a tempting creature of vulnerability and determination, hatred warring with desire on that lovely face. ‘Well?’ Kaname prompted him teasingly, tilting his head a little.
‘Please…’ Zero hesitated, unable to say the words. Kaname shrugged nonchalantly, turning away again. He enjoyed this game, and he was good at it. Zero had stolen something from him, driven a dagger into his heart and snatched away the last remnants of something precious. All was fair in blood and war.
‘Let me take your blood,’ Zero finished, spitting the words out as if they burned his throat. Kaname smiled, gleaning a twisted satisfaction from his helplessness. Let him plead. Let him beg for this, what he’d tried so hard to reject. Let him burn for it, crave it with his heart and soul, be willing to sacrifice everything, anything, his dignity and his pride for the promise of sanity. Let him feel what it was to suffer.
‘And why would I do that?’ Kaname asked, tugging absently at his collar. Zero watched him intently, red threads woven through the amethyst of his eyes.
‘Because I…’ Kaname took another step closer as Zero sank to his knees, still clutching the tree for support. The hunger took ex-humans much harder than it did born vampires. Kaname could resist it for days, weeks, perhaps even months, yet Zero was a slave to it, unable to break away from the fetters of desire.
‘Because you need it?’ Kaname inquired. ‘Because you want it? Because without it, you will descend to the level of a monster, cringing away from the light, crawling through filthy alleys in your search for blood until I drive a knife into your heart? Because it is the only thing that can save you from chasing, from hunting, from killing?’ Zero flinched as if he’d been struck. Kaname continued ruthlessly, taking another step closer and staring down at the crumpled vampire. ‘What would you do, Zero, for that blood? To save yourself? Would you attack me? Would you plead with me? Would you beg me?’
Zero stared at him with something between incredulity and horror. Kaname wondered then if he would. Would he beg to retain his sanity? Would his fear of the darkness screaming within him for sustenance lay him that low? A part of him was tempted to find out, to extract from him in blood payment for every moment of humiliation he’d felt, every bleeding cut he’d had to staunch all over again. Zero just looked at him, sprawled against the tree like a rag doll, limbs splayed, face contorted with pain. ‘Would you beg?’ he asked again lightly. Zero looked down, running a shaking hand through his hair.
‘No,’ he muttered defiantly. Kaname wondered at that. He’d gamble his sanity for the sake of his pride. He smiled, shaking his head, savouring the futile resistance. This felt better. This was control. He was in control.
Chains, there were always chains in the darkness, the chains had fangs…they tore at him, devouring him, ripping away his pride…he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all be could hear was his gasping, ragged breaths…the pain kept him here, the pain was real, the pain, the pain…pain…
He shuddered trying to shake away the memories. Zero was watching him again, but this time with something it took Kaname a moment to recognise. Pity. Zero pitied him? He, Kaname Kuran, had incited the sympathy of a starving ex-human, a vampire hunter who’d morphed into his own worst nightmare. Nobody had ever dared pity him before. Hate him, worship him, crave him…pity was new, and it seared like silver.
‘I'm curious,' he said softly, feeling as though he was somehow watching himself from a distance, a casual observer within his own mind as he tried to sew up the scars he’d thought long healed with a darning needle. ‘What would you do for my blood?’ he enquired again, tilting his head in askance, wondering. ‘Would you try to take it if I didn’t offer it freely?’
He wouldn’t beg, he wouldn’t let himself break, had to hold himself together, focus, focus on the rage burning within him, white light, white like the pain, he wouldn’t break, wouldn’t break, wouldn’t break…
His lips parted slightly as he bit back the memories, breathing in deeply and forcing back the emotion. Why now? What had this silver haired sylph done to him, to force things he’d though long forgotten back to the surface? Kaname watched him carefully, drinking in every flicker of emotion on that mesmerizingly expressive face, everything from shame to need to rage to hate. He felt a sudden, hot spurt of disgust. Was this what he’d become? One of them? But he needed…he needed to be in control. It was all he had, all he could hold on to. Stay in control and nothing will hurt you.
‘Why?’ Zero asked huskily, sounding almost defeated. Kaname hesitated. Why indeed? Because this game was all about power. Words became daggers, looks morphed into swords, gestures turned to bullets, everything was weighed and measured, every card painted in blood and sin laid out on the table in the end. He needed the aces, not because he wanted them, but because having all the cards in his elegant hands was as natural to him as breathing. He’s been bred on politics and power, baptised in the blood of those he’d loved, caught up in a web of lies and violence until he’d torn himself free, vowing to never permit himself the same weakness again.
‘Because I can,’ he said absently.
Silver digging into his skin, blistering, burning, straining, snapping and he was free, stumbling free, tasting the fear in those cold, dead eyes…moving, fighting, killing, so natural, should it feel this good? Why? Because he could, because he can, because he wanted too.
Zero was still dangerously tempting, sprawled as he was on the ground, clothing rumpled. Unconsciously sensual, utterly unaware of the potency of his own allure. Or perhaps not. Kaname remembered all too well how deadly that seemingly grudging capitulation could be.
‘Because you need too,’ Zero corrected him softly. Kaname looked at him sharply, their eyes holding. The animosity was gone, replaced by something he couldn’t recognise, something odd changing in Zero’s face. It wasn’t pity, wasn’t empathy, wasn’t anything that could be named or categorised. Zero just looked at him through wide, almost innocent amethyst eyes, hunger making him seem both immeasurably old and unthinkably young. Something inside him cracked, held and broke. The anger was still there, the shame, the pain, but they were muted somehow, the blades wrapped in soft purple silk, the bruises fading and the cuts knitting. He needed nobody, so why did he feel suddenly, heart-wrenchingly, desperately lonely?
Part of him still wanted Zero to suffer, still wanted to force out every inch of grudging obeisance, wanted that sharp taste of sadism. But the suffering in Zero’s eyes softened something inside him, fool that he was.
He drew a nail swiftly across his wrist, inhaling the scent of his own blood. Zero went rigid, eyes flooded suddenly with red. He began to clamber to his feet but Kaname stilled his with a gesture. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You can stay on your knees.’ Zero had, after all, not quite payed his debt. He saw anger flash across the hunter’s face before it was obliterated by need. He held out his bleeding wrist, watching as rivulets of blood ran over his pale skin. Zero seized his forearm, nails biting into his skin, and lowered his head to the blood. He expected him to sink his fangs into the wound, to try to exact a little vengeance for the games they’d been playing. He expected him to be brutal, driven as he was by need. He expected it to hurt. He was wrong.
Zero sank his fangs in gently, almost tenderly, his tongue darting out to catch the stray blood trickling over Kaname’s wrist. He knelt there, head bowed as if in prayer, drinking the blood with all of the passion but none of the violence Kaname had anticipated. His grip slackened as he drank, his breathing steadying, some of the tension flowing from his limbs. Kaname shut his eyes, allowing himself a single moment of weakness as Zero pulled the life from his veins. He was still in control, still the master here, but for one, fleeting second he could allow himself to only feel, to experience the pure, raw sensation as his essence flowed from his blood into Zero’s. Nobody had ever dared touch him as Zero did, without reverence or caution, nobody had needed his blood with the same irrefutable fervour.
He felt Zero stop drinking, but the younger vampire stayed on his knees, lips resting against the gash on Kaname’s wrist. Kaname pulled away, unwilling to prolong the mockery of affection, and Zero stared up at him through pleasure glazed eyes, blood smeared over his lips. He was a picture of temptation pulled from some gothic artwork, an angel with his moonbeam hair and alabaster skin, lips dyed to ruby and eyes darkened with satisfaction. The shadows behind him could almost have been wings. Kaname reminded himself that this was a transaction, a deal with the devil Zero agreed to for the sake of his sanity.
Gently, Zero took his wrist again, raising it to his lips. Kaname tried to stay frozen as Zero hesitated, breath hot against his skin, fangs just grazing the edges of the wound. He could feel the younger vampire trembling. Zero bit down again cautiously, the sting of his fangs almost negated by the strange wholeness that came as he drank, slowly, savouring each drop of blood. Kaname shut his eyes, willing himself to stay cold, stay distant.
On its own volition, his hand moved to tangle in Zero’s hair, holding him gently, playing with the silvery strands. Zero’s breath caught for a second and Kaname stilled, heart rate surging to a crescendo in a frantic tattoo he knew Zero would be able to sense. Again…not again…please, not again. Sometimes he wondered if one day he would simply fall to pieces, melt away like Narcissus until he was merely a pile of soft white petals to be scattered by the autumn winds, tossed too and fro by the capricious sister of weary winter and solipsistic summer. But no. That way was not for him. He couldn’t find solace or companionship even in his own reflection. He could stare into the mirror, but the eyes that looked back at him held no warmth.
For a second, an agonising second, Zero held the knife at his throat, and Kaname was sickeningly certain he would drive it home. Then his lips closed over the wound again and he continued drinking carefully. Kaname didn’t move, couldn’t move, bound in place by the seraph kneeling at his feet. He felt almost giddy, dizzy with relief, and terrified beyond all measure by the unwelcome contentment flooding through his veins. He felt tears prickle in the back of his eyes and tensed, horrified. Twelve years, it had been twelve years since he’d smelt the salt of his grief on his cheeks. What was Zero doing to him, to bring tears welling to the surface? To bring about this peculiar tightness in his chest? He swayed a little, suddenly unsteady, and realised that Zero had taken perhaps more than was necessary.
Zero,’ he said, voice perfectly steady. Zero stopped, lifting his head again as his eyes slid from crimson to amethyst, traces of blood fresh on his lips. Zero released his wrist and he lifted it to his own mouth, sealing the wound with his tongue. Zero watched him, but this time without the same predatory desire. Kaname shifted, suddenly uncertain. There was nothing to say, no words that could do anything but harm, that could do anything but shatter this delicate, fragile peace. So he said nothing, letting his eyes tell all of the truth he dared reveal, and turned away, leaving Zero kneeling behind him.
‘Kaname…’ Zero’s whisper was soft, but he heard it easily. He turned. Zero was still on his knees, an unreadable expression gracing his handsome face. He hesitated for a second, looking down, then met Kaname’s eyes with all the courage of a born hunter.
‘Thankyou,’ he said quietly. He held Kaname’s gaze for a moment then looked away again, staring off into the night. Kaname walked away without a word, breathing in the night air. He reached up to push an errant lock of hair from his face.
His hand was shaking.