{CLOSED, COMPLETE} Wake up, my love
WHO: Grell Sutcliff {chainsaw_juliet } & Nozomu Itoshiki {despairiminit }
WHAT: A little husband and wife bonding (compiled MSN logs)
WHERE: The Sutcliff/Itoshiki Home
WHEN: Day 112 (backlog after the musical)
*~*~*
"Now, I know my tea does not compare to Sebastian's tea," Grell forewarned, "but it will have to do. Lemon and honey will soothe your sore throat." Offering the young man a steaming cup, Grell made sure he was bundled in quilts comfortably on the armchair.
"I care not for Sebastian's tea," Nozomu shrugged, sipping from the cup. "It doesn't have any love or poetry in it."
A faint tinge to the redhead's cheeks before he cleared his throat, taking a seat atop the armrest and drawing Nozomu close.
"This is what the Madam used to do on rainy days," he mused, gaze glazed with nostalgia. "I'd make her tea and she'd sit with me and watch the rain pitter-patter against the windows." A sigh, a small smile.
"Sitting here quietly with you reminds me of rainy London days."
"I like the rain." Closing his eyes, Nozomu pressed his ear to his chest. "It's calming. It's like the sky is hushing the earth." The mug was cupped in his palms, steam curling upwards to tickle their noses with the scent of sweetness and citrus. His hair was slick with sweat from the fever, and he turned uncomfortably.
"I'll run a bath for you, alright? It'll help your body adjust to the right temperature." Grell moved, hands on his shoulders. "And no drowning! I'm making lemon cheesecake tonight and you don't want to die and leave it all for me do you?"
Nozomu shook his head guiltily before following him into the bathroom. Nothing had happened between the two of them besides physically, not sexually, sharing the same bed. So the teacher changed out of his clothing whilst the redhead turned around, before slipping into the hot bath. He pondered whether he would completely vanish if he submerged into the water.
Looking at his black gloves, Grell realized he would need to remove them before he washed Nozomu's hair lest the water damage the inside lining. Hesitantly he slid the fabric from his fingers, revealing bare hands so very few had seen.
"Your hands..." Nozomu creased his brow, reaching to touch the pale flesh. A scorched red sigil was embedded in the back of Grell's right hand. The teacher traced it clumsily. "Your soul is marked, like mine is marked, with the longing for death, though I suspect ours is different." His words were slurred, mind hazy with fever.
The Death God stayed silent, averting his eyes as Nozomu stood and wrapped a towel around him. He offered the teacher his own pair of black slacks and a crisp white shirt whilst Nozomu's clothes hung outside to dry. Leading him to the lounge, he sat him in front of a roaring fire to prevent him from developing a cold.
"You Oriental people have such lovely skin..." He smiled, sitting behind him and drying the dark locks with a towel. "It's pale like those of us from London, but it has a different hue to it."
Nozomu only barely listened to his words, head lolling as the illness took hold of his ability to concentrate. He leaned into Grell's gentle touches, fighting to stay awake.
"You're so much more fragile when ill, you know?" He mused, voice a whisper by Nozomu's ear as he began to massage his shoulders. "You're all sleepy and endearing..." Slowly he moved his hands to wrap around his neck. He felt him shudder- whether in fear or pleasure was unknown.
"See?"
"Please."
"All it takes is one. hard. squeeze." Hands tightened, squeezing the air from his body.
"Please."
Unbearably tight, as Grell playfully nibbled on the tip of one ear. Nozomu closed his eyes, blissfully awaiting the end he had longed for. And then just like that, Grell released him and smiled.
"But I promised you Lemon Cheesecake."
The teacher choked for breath, expression a mixture of both disappointment and relief. He turned his fever-glazed eyes to the Soul Reaper, words unsaid in his gaze. He pushed away from him, standing up and pacing the room impatiently. Fever spiking, mind filling with a thousand incoherent thoughts.
"Just let me die!"
Grell tisked, pulling him close. "No no, not yet." He tightened his embrace as the teacher struggled feebly.
"Please, just let me die!" Nozomu cried, before slumping against him tiredly.
"My silly little ragdoll." Sighing fondly, he tapped Nozomu's nose before grinning darkly. "Do I frighten you?"
Nozomu only shuddered, weakly pushing against his shoulders.
"Let's get you tucked in bed, hm?" Scooping him up, Grell carried him to the bedroom and lay him beneath the covers. "What am to do with you, hm? My little ill ragdoll." He tugged the covers to rest atop Nozomu's shoulders, smoothing the quilts. Leaning down, he whispered to the dazed young man.
"My name is Grell Sutcliff. I come from London, England under Her Majesty Queen Victoria. I am a Death God."
"Death..." The teacher echoed.
"Nothing has changed now that I am here. I take lives- many of them. Then I feed them back to the people."
"Take...?"
"You are the most beautifully tragic mortal I have ever met, even moreso than The Madam. You're so weak and so very very breakable..."
"Break me. Break me if thou art kind."
"You want death so desperately, don't you my sweet? You're a man who wants to die and now you're married to Death. Does that put you in despair?"
"Yes." Fingers traced Grell's jawline. "Why do I still live? Why haven't you killed me? Why must you leave me to try over and over to kill myself?" Black feverish eyes looked up at the ceiling where a noose hung ready for use from a beam.
Suddenly Grell straddled his waist, hands cupping around Nozomu's neck and pinning him to the bed. Tighter and tighter, proving no noose was needed.
"I will die with you, when our story has reached its climax." The Death God vowed, watching as the man offered no struggle despite slowly slipping away into unconsciousness. Bending, he kissed lips tinged blue from the lack of oxygen.
"But my love, we've only just begun."
WHAT: A little husband and wife bonding (compiled MSN logs)
WHERE: The Sutcliff/Itoshiki Home
WHEN: Day 112 (backlog after the musical)
*~*~*
"Now, I know my tea does not compare to Sebastian's tea," Grell forewarned, "but it will have to do. Lemon and honey will soothe your sore throat." Offering the young man a steaming cup, Grell made sure he was bundled in quilts comfortably on the armchair.
"I care not for Sebastian's tea," Nozomu shrugged, sipping from the cup. "It doesn't have any love or poetry in it."
A faint tinge to the redhead's cheeks before he cleared his throat, taking a seat atop the armrest and drawing Nozomu close.
"This is what the Madam used to do on rainy days," he mused, gaze glazed with nostalgia. "I'd make her tea and she'd sit with me and watch the rain pitter-patter against the windows." A sigh, a small smile.
"Sitting here quietly with you reminds me of rainy London days."
"I like the rain." Closing his eyes, Nozomu pressed his ear to his chest. "It's calming. It's like the sky is hushing the earth." The mug was cupped in his palms, steam curling upwards to tickle their noses with the scent of sweetness and citrus. His hair was slick with sweat from the fever, and he turned uncomfortably.
"I'll run a bath for you, alright? It'll help your body adjust to the right temperature." Grell moved, hands on his shoulders. "And no drowning! I'm making lemon cheesecake tonight and you don't want to die and leave it all for me do you?"
Nozomu shook his head guiltily before following him into the bathroom. Nothing had happened between the two of them besides physically, not sexually, sharing the same bed. So the teacher changed out of his clothing whilst the redhead turned around, before slipping into the hot bath. He pondered whether he would completely vanish if he submerged into the water.
Looking at his black gloves, Grell realized he would need to remove them before he washed Nozomu's hair lest the water damage the inside lining. Hesitantly he slid the fabric from his fingers, revealing bare hands so very few had seen.
"Your hands..." Nozomu creased his brow, reaching to touch the pale flesh. A scorched red sigil was embedded in the back of Grell's right hand. The teacher traced it clumsily. "Your soul is marked, like mine is marked, with the longing for death, though I suspect ours is different." His words were slurred, mind hazy with fever.
The Death God stayed silent, averting his eyes as Nozomu stood and wrapped a towel around him. He offered the teacher his own pair of black slacks and a crisp white shirt whilst Nozomu's clothes hung outside to dry. Leading him to the lounge, he sat him in front of a roaring fire to prevent him from developing a cold.
"You Oriental people have such lovely skin..." He smiled, sitting behind him and drying the dark locks with a towel. "It's pale like those of us from London, but it has a different hue to it."
Nozomu only barely listened to his words, head lolling as the illness took hold of his ability to concentrate. He leaned into Grell's gentle touches, fighting to stay awake.
"You're so much more fragile when ill, you know?" He mused, voice a whisper by Nozomu's ear as he began to massage his shoulders. "You're all sleepy and endearing..." Slowly he moved his hands to wrap around his neck. He felt him shudder- whether in fear or pleasure was unknown.
"See?"
"Please."
"All it takes is one. hard. squeeze." Hands tightened, squeezing the air from his body.
"Please."
Unbearably tight, as Grell playfully nibbled on the tip of one ear. Nozomu closed his eyes, blissfully awaiting the end he had longed for. And then just like that, Grell released him and smiled.
"But I promised you Lemon Cheesecake."
The teacher choked for breath, expression a mixture of both disappointment and relief. He turned his fever-glazed eyes to the Soul Reaper, words unsaid in his gaze. He pushed away from him, standing up and pacing the room impatiently. Fever spiking, mind filling with a thousand incoherent thoughts.
"Just let me die!"
Grell tisked, pulling him close. "No no, not yet." He tightened his embrace as the teacher struggled feebly.
"Please, just let me die!" Nozomu cried, before slumping against him tiredly.
"My silly little ragdoll." Sighing fondly, he tapped Nozomu's nose before grinning darkly. "Do I frighten you?"
Nozomu only shuddered, weakly pushing against his shoulders.
"Let's get you tucked in bed, hm?" Scooping him up, Grell carried him to the bedroom and lay him beneath the covers. "What am to do with you, hm? My little ill ragdoll." He tugged the covers to rest atop Nozomu's shoulders, smoothing the quilts. Leaning down, he whispered to the dazed young man.
"My name is Grell Sutcliff. I come from London, England under Her Majesty Queen Victoria. I am a Death God."
"Death..." The teacher echoed.
"Nothing has changed now that I am here. I take lives- many of them. Then I feed them back to the people."
"Take...?"
"You are the most beautifully tragic mortal I have ever met, even moreso than The Madam. You're so weak and so very very breakable..."
"Break me. Break me if thou art kind."
"You want death so desperately, don't you my sweet? You're a man who wants to die and now you're married to Death. Does that put you in despair?"
"Yes." Fingers traced Grell's jawline. "Why do I still live? Why haven't you killed me? Why must you leave me to try over and over to kill myself?" Black feverish eyes looked up at the ceiling where a noose hung ready for use from a beam.
Suddenly Grell straddled his waist, hands cupping around Nozomu's neck and pinning him to the bed. Tighter and tighter, proving no noose was needed.
"I will die with you, when our story has reached its climax." The Death God vowed, watching as the man offered no struggle despite slowly slipping away into unconsciousness. Bending, he kissed lips tinged blue from the lack of oxygen.
"But my love, we've only just begun."