"Black Magic" - Mao x Hide-zou
Title : "Black Magic"
Author : MM - papermaskerade
Bands : Sadie, D
Pairings : Mao x Hide-zou
Rating : Mild R, for not much at all.
Disclaimer : I don't own them, just the plot .
Summary : It's getting pretty obvious that enemies are not meant to be forced together as allies, alliances be damned .
Notes/Comments : This is really just a part of a greater story that I've been working on but haven't finished it yet . Still, I thought this scene between Mao and Hide-zou was worth posting somewhere . Enjoy it for what it is .
The circling presence was more menacing than anything Hide-zou could have originally predicted -- this tactic, though not unfamiliar, was unexpected from an enemy like Mao. The blond had learned everything he knew of Hide-zou from Asagi, or so he'd figured -- but this was really too reminiscent of someone else, someone much dearer.
Someone to whom he was much more easily vulnerable.
Turning an increment at a time, the sorcerer kept a constant circle of witchlight around himself -- between Mao's unrelenting intimidation and his own unprecedented, wavering strength. The fall of hair over one half of his face wasn't quite as calculated this time as it might have been before; now, the sorcerer used it as a shield, veiling his mind and his eyes to keep from showing fear.
"You're out of bounds, Hikari," he intoned, keeping his chin up and his hands down at his side. "Return to your post in the conference room."
A thin, hollow laugh --short and humorless-- floated out of the shadows around him; pinpointing the position of his opponent from within the circle of his own light was difficult; locating Mao in the shadows that he frequented so easily however was nearly impossible. It was only the slightest ring of silver links against each other -- undoubtedly the sound of the chains wrapped around Mao's waist brushing together; it was the only sign of Mao's movement.
"Don't tempt me to settle this matter myself -- you've been far too troublesome for much too long and no one would frown on me for taking care of your discipline problem."
"Do you think you can?" The question came from somewhere to his right and Hide's head snapped up quickly -- and he cursed himself for that sign of surprise when Mao's distinct, hollow laugh came again. "Come now, don't be so difficult with me..." The words might have been friendly if it were for the definite lack of emotion with which they were said, the flat tone of someone who had no real emotional stake in their worth. "Don't you want to know how your beloved Asagi-sama is doing? He asked me to deliver a message to you."
The chill that skittered down Hide's spine did nothing to ease him. "I'm very sure whatever message Asagi sent you're more than happy to deliver, however..." The ring of witchlight flared briefly with his agitation and in the briefly heightened glow, Hide-zou was able to meet the dark eyes of the other man head on for the shortest moment before the man faded into the shadows and continued to move around him. Hide took a breath and released it.
"...I have no desire to let you put your filthy, murderous hands on me..."
Just that quickly, the form he'd been so sure was moving so slowly around him was suddenly pressed hard and hot against his back, two slim but strong arms wrapping around him and pinning his own arms to his side. Pain like fire burned its way up his spine and he hissed, arching against the slightly shorter man in an attempt to throw him off -- to no avail. Mao's fingers trailed over his exposed forearms and the sensation of his bones shifting under that touch raised choked gasp from him.
"S-Stop..." It was the best he could grind out between lips that pressed together against a scream, but he knew he sounded just as helpless as he felt. And Mao, the bastard princeling, he knew it.
"Or what, Hotaru?" A hot wet caress to the curve of his throat and Hide-zou shook, his eyes closing shut on visions of another time, another man -- another pair of arms just as strong but nowhere near as cruel. Something like a broken whisper slipped from between his lips and Mao laughed. "You call my hands filthy, murderous ... but look at yours, Hide... just look..." And for a moment, Hide-zou almost did look ...
Until the fingers that had danced up his forearms slid upward to wrap threateningly around his throat and in his shock, the witchlight beamed brightly and then disappeared, unbalanced by his wavering attention and energy. Utterly alone in the darkness with only the infamous Mao at his back...
"Don't pretend that your hands aren't just as stained with blood as my own. How many people have you killed for this clan? How many have you fucked and betrayed for this clan? Asagi... he told me all about you..." Hot breath against the shell of his ear. "He told me how they practically handed you over to him ... when they heard how you nearly seduced him, even when you were so young. I suppose they called you a 'natural' or 'gifted', mh? Wanted you to put that talent to use elsewhere."
The images flashed behind his eyes like a roll of film in fast forward -- followed by a sharp, agonizing stab of pain to his lower body that made his knees give out. He found himself on the floor, legs crushed beneath his own body and Mao's arms the only support to keep him upright on joints that felt like they'd been knocked out with a steel rod.
"Tell me," the assassin probed casually, "how many men have you fucked before you burned them alive? How many women came on your fingers before you lit them up like candles on a birthday cake?"
"Fuck you," Hide-zou hissed, hating Mao a thousand times over for bringing up that part of him -- that shameful, forgotten and long-buried past -- that he despised with such true vehemence. Images of screaming, writhing bodies; of naked flesh curling back on itself as his fireflies worked their torment from within. His eyes closed shut on the onslaught of it, but the memories were burned into his eyelids just as surely as if he'd performed the imprinting of it himself. It was something inescapable, humiliating -- weakening.
A measure of just how weak those memories made him was easy enough to see; Mao's hands moved unimpeded over his body, touching where they wanted and bringing pain in the wake of feather-light caresses. His body reacted to it as it always had -- as it had been conditioned to do.
Arousal formed in slow waves between his thighs, rose up to a peak and drove flesh upward with it; the undeniable swell of his cock against the outline of his fine slacks was infinitely degrading, the surest sign of Mao's momentary victory. A chuckle as unkind as anything Hide-zou had ever feared was the reward for his inadvertent surrender and a head crowned in long, dark head bowed in defeated submission.
"There, there, Hotaru..." An intonation of his title --that particular purr to it that was unnatural in Mao's voice, more like someone else's-- drew furious tears up the back of his throat, left him shaking, but he was helpless -- a spell circle of sullied crimson glowed softly beneath his feet and he knew it as surely as the sun rose in the east.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Mao crooned softly, his nails raking the flesh of Hide-zou's hip, "it's only a little black magic."
Author : MM - papermaskerade
Bands : Sadie, D
Pairings : Mao x Hide-zou
Rating : Mild R, for not much at all.
Disclaimer : I don't own them, just the plot .
Summary : It's getting pretty obvious that enemies are not meant to be forced together as allies, alliances be damned .
Notes/Comments : This is really just a part of a greater story that I've been working on but haven't finished it yet . Still, I thought this scene between Mao and Hide-zou was worth posting somewhere . Enjoy it for what it is .
The circling presence was more menacing than anything Hide-zou could have originally predicted -- this tactic, though not unfamiliar, was unexpected from an enemy like Mao. The blond had learned everything he knew of Hide-zou from Asagi, or so he'd figured -- but this was really too reminiscent of someone else, someone much dearer.
Someone to whom he was much more easily vulnerable.
Turning an increment at a time, the sorcerer kept a constant circle of witchlight around himself -- between Mao's unrelenting intimidation and his own unprecedented, wavering strength. The fall of hair over one half of his face wasn't quite as calculated this time as it might have been before; now, the sorcerer used it as a shield, veiling his mind and his eyes to keep from showing fear.
"You're out of bounds, Hikari," he intoned, keeping his chin up and his hands down at his side. "Return to your post in the conference room."
A thin, hollow laugh --short and humorless-- floated out of the shadows around him; pinpointing the position of his opponent from within the circle of his own light was difficult; locating Mao in the shadows that he frequented so easily however was nearly impossible. It was only the slightest ring of silver links against each other -- undoubtedly the sound of the chains wrapped around Mao's waist brushing together; it was the only sign of Mao's movement.
"Don't tempt me to settle this matter myself -- you've been far too troublesome for much too long and no one would frown on me for taking care of your discipline problem."
"Do you think you can?" The question came from somewhere to his right and Hide's head snapped up quickly -- and he cursed himself for that sign of surprise when Mao's distinct, hollow laugh came again. "Come now, don't be so difficult with me..." The words might have been friendly if it were for the definite lack of emotion with which they were said, the flat tone of someone who had no real emotional stake in their worth. "Don't you want to know how your beloved Asagi-sama is doing? He asked me to deliver a message to you."
The chill that skittered down Hide's spine did nothing to ease him. "I'm very sure whatever message Asagi sent you're more than happy to deliver, however..." The ring of witchlight flared briefly with his agitation and in the briefly heightened glow, Hide-zou was able to meet the dark eyes of the other man head on for the shortest moment before the man faded into the shadows and continued to move around him. Hide took a breath and released it.
"...I have no desire to let you put your filthy, murderous hands on me..."
Just that quickly, the form he'd been so sure was moving so slowly around him was suddenly pressed hard and hot against his back, two slim but strong arms wrapping around him and pinning his own arms to his side. Pain like fire burned its way up his spine and he hissed, arching against the slightly shorter man in an attempt to throw him off -- to no avail. Mao's fingers trailed over his exposed forearms and the sensation of his bones shifting under that touch raised choked gasp from him.
"S-Stop..." It was the best he could grind out between lips that pressed together against a scream, but he knew he sounded just as helpless as he felt. And Mao, the bastard princeling, he knew it.
"Or what, Hotaru?" A hot wet caress to the curve of his throat and Hide-zou shook, his eyes closing shut on visions of another time, another man -- another pair of arms just as strong but nowhere near as cruel. Something like a broken whisper slipped from between his lips and Mao laughed. "You call my hands filthy, murderous ... but look at yours, Hide... just look..." And for a moment, Hide-zou almost did look ...
Until the fingers that had danced up his forearms slid upward to wrap threateningly around his throat and in his shock, the witchlight beamed brightly and then disappeared, unbalanced by his wavering attention and energy. Utterly alone in the darkness with only the infamous Mao at his back...
"Don't pretend that your hands aren't just as stained with blood as my own. How many people have you killed for this clan? How many have you fucked and betrayed for this clan? Asagi... he told me all about you..." Hot breath against the shell of his ear. "He told me how they practically handed you over to him ... when they heard how you nearly seduced him, even when you were so young. I suppose they called you a 'natural' or 'gifted', mh? Wanted you to put that talent to use elsewhere."
The images flashed behind his eyes like a roll of film in fast forward -- followed by a sharp, agonizing stab of pain to his lower body that made his knees give out. He found himself on the floor, legs crushed beneath his own body and Mao's arms the only support to keep him upright on joints that felt like they'd been knocked out with a steel rod.
"Tell me," the assassin probed casually, "how many men have you fucked before you burned them alive? How many women came on your fingers before you lit them up like candles on a birthday cake?"
"Fuck you," Hide-zou hissed, hating Mao a thousand times over for bringing up that part of him -- that shameful, forgotten and long-buried past -- that he despised with such true vehemence. Images of screaming, writhing bodies; of naked flesh curling back on itself as his fireflies worked their torment from within. His eyes closed shut on the onslaught of it, but the memories were burned into his eyelids just as surely as if he'd performed the imprinting of it himself. It was something inescapable, humiliating -- weakening.
A measure of just how weak those memories made him was easy enough to see; Mao's hands moved unimpeded over his body, touching where they wanted and bringing pain in the wake of feather-light caresses. His body reacted to it as it always had -- as it had been conditioned to do.
Arousal formed in slow waves between his thighs, rose up to a peak and drove flesh upward with it; the undeniable swell of his cock against the outline of his fine slacks was infinitely degrading, the surest sign of Mao's momentary victory. A chuckle as unkind as anything Hide-zou had ever feared was the reward for his inadvertent surrender and a head crowned in long, dark head bowed in defeated submission.
"There, there, Hotaru..." An intonation of his title --that particular purr to it that was unnatural in Mao's voice, more like someone else's-- drew furious tears up the back of his throat, left him shaking, but he was helpless -- a spell circle of sullied crimson glowed softly beneath his feet and he knew it as surely as the sun rose in the east.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Mao crooned softly, his nails raking the flesh of Hide-zou's hip, "it's only a little black magic."