[driftwood]
Oh god, this took me so long. And yet its so short. Anyway, yay for more KakuHidan!
Title: Light and Dark; a comparison
Rating: R, baby.
For: lilydescend ILU ♥
Prompt(s): Whisper; Kakuzu's hair.
Notes: dark dreary dangerous.
darkness and light; a comparison
chained to the pillars
a 3-day party
i break the walls
and kill us all
with holy fingers.
-the pixies, gouge away
The darkness was not a cloak. It hid nothing. Kakuzu saw everything in the darkness, oversaturated images rearing across the blackness, everything he had ever heard ringing in his ears. The silence throbbed, reminding him with a wretched voice, remember us? Remember? And no slipped between his lips like an oath. He wanted to be free, but he didn’t remember what it meant. He didn’t mind so much though, because at least his chains were made of gold that clinks and glitters in the dark.
He misses it now. Now his chains are made of flesh that is heated and searing- flesh that surrounds him and chokes him with desire and anger. His chains keep him tied to the darkness, pale hands tearing at his skin with passion in the night. They whisper secrets in the dark, teeth sharp and vicious, voice crimson and jagged, fingers scratching at his back. Whisper words he wishes he didn’t have to hear.
“This was your choice, your fucking choice,” Hidan hisses in his ear, breath hot and unwelcome, fingers probing Kakuzu’s back, tearing out stitches as he went. Kakuzu arches against the sting, biting down on Hidan’s bottom lip and pulling, tasting the metallic tang. He could feel Hidan’s smile through the sticky wetness of blood.
“None of this…” Kakuzu’s voice felt rough and foreign against his own throat, “No. Never.”
Hidan laughed at that, his voice a guttural shriek against the cold walls, his hands sliding over Kakuzu’s muscled thighs, yanking his partner’s legs apart with hard, blunt force,
“We all fuck ourselves over in the end,” He whispers it as sweetly as a prayer, fingers threading through Kakuzu’s hair, then pulling harshly. Kakuzu says nothing in return, only arches up to Hidan’s touch, and submits to the cadence of his fingers.
The light hides everything. Thrown into sharp relief, Hidan’s face looks gaunt and chiseled and alone. And Kakuzu knows that his face is hidden, that no one could find anything in his face no matter how hard they looked. Even his eyes are a conundrum, sinister and devoid of emotion.
Hidan’s voice is loud and brash in the daylight, and Kakuzu knows his own is rough and ruthless. There are no more whispers now, and for a while Kakuzu is glad of it. Hidan’s whispers are stained with blood and hatred and Kakuzu’s whispers are almost silent, hissed through gritted teeth. Let’s die tonight, again and again, he’ll whisper, as if it is some sort of beautiful, twisted fantasy that he cannot wait to fulfill. It is, but he denies it still.
Hidan’s eyes-so alive and tense and deep in the dark-reflect nothing in the light. They show nothing but empty hatred, an almost farcical harshness, as if he is nothing but a sulking, self-righteous child. And Kakuzu knows, knows, that Hidan is nothing like that foul-mouthed brat, that swaggering mask he puts on.
Kakuzu stays hidden. He has lived for far too long to put on airs. His mask hides, but it does not create. He has no need to swear and screech, he only does what he needs to, trying to forget the oaths and cries that Hidan can pull from him in the darkness, white hands twisting in his hair.
Conversation is blunt, stilted. They forget the sweat of the night, the haze afterwards, when they fall apart from one another, bodies aching and spent, lips bloody and torn.
It does not exist. Because they cannot see the cruel light bouncing off their bodies, cannot know the image of their sins. “Everyone’s so fucking ugly,” Hidan says to the darkened walls and Kakuzu believes him, because beauty is dead in their world, only to be found in the staleness of gold and the splash of blood. But that is only in the dark. In the light even metal and gore look grotesque, removed from the hazy wonderings of the night into the reality of the day.
Kakuzu dreads the day’s ending. Passion pulls him into a world he cannot resist and cannot control. He usually thinks that Hidan can control this world, has it in his hands, twisting into artwork, life and death, a composition. But he has seen the way Hidan’s eyes change in the dim light, bright and disoriented, distorted with desire, and hunger. He has seen the face, so wasted and alone, contorted in something like pain, or perhaps it is pleasure, only pleasure.
He knows it is wrong, he knows he hates it. But he knows he is trapped. Oh yes, he knows that they will fall hard. Only the lucky ones simply die after all.
(end)
I hope you enjoyed it ♥
Title: Light and Dark; a comparison
Rating: R, baby.
For: lilydescend ILU ♥
Prompt(s): Whisper; Kakuzu's hair.
Notes: dark dreary dangerous.
darkness and light; a comparison
chained to the pillars
a 3-day party
i break the walls
and kill us all
with holy fingers.
-the pixies, gouge away
The darkness was not a cloak. It hid nothing. Kakuzu saw everything in the darkness, oversaturated images rearing across the blackness, everything he had ever heard ringing in his ears. The silence throbbed, reminding him with a wretched voice, remember us? Remember? And no slipped between his lips like an oath. He wanted to be free, but he didn’t remember what it meant. He didn’t mind so much though, because at least his chains were made of gold that clinks and glitters in the dark.
He misses it now. Now his chains are made of flesh that is heated and searing- flesh that surrounds him and chokes him with desire and anger. His chains keep him tied to the darkness, pale hands tearing at his skin with passion in the night. They whisper secrets in the dark, teeth sharp and vicious, voice crimson and jagged, fingers scratching at his back. Whisper words he wishes he didn’t have to hear.
“This was your choice, your fucking choice,” Hidan hisses in his ear, breath hot and unwelcome, fingers probing Kakuzu’s back, tearing out stitches as he went. Kakuzu arches against the sting, biting down on Hidan’s bottom lip and pulling, tasting the metallic tang. He could feel Hidan’s smile through the sticky wetness of blood.
“None of this…” Kakuzu’s voice felt rough and foreign against his own throat, “No. Never.”
Hidan laughed at that, his voice a guttural shriek against the cold walls, his hands sliding over Kakuzu’s muscled thighs, yanking his partner’s legs apart with hard, blunt force,
“We all fuck ourselves over in the end,” He whispers it as sweetly as a prayer, fingers threading through Kakuzu’s hair, then pulling harshly. Kakuzu says nothing in return, only arches up to Hidan’s touch, and submits to the cadence of his fingers.
The light hides everything. Thrown into sharp relief, Hidan’s face looks gaunt and chiseled and alone. And Kakuzu knows that his face is hidden, that no one could find anything in his face no matter how hard they looked. Even his eyes are a conundrum, sinister and devoid of emotion.
Hidan’s voice is loud and brash in the daylight, and Kakuzu knows his own is rough and ruthless. There are no more whispers now, and for a while Kakuzu is glad of it. Hidan’s whispers are stained with blood and hatred and Kakuzu’s whispers are almost silent, hissed through gritted teeth. Let’s die tonight, again and again, he’ll whisper, as if it is some sort of beautiful, twisted fantasy that he cannot wait to fulfill. It is, but he denies it still.
Hidan’s eyes-so alive and tense and deep in the dark-reflect nothing in the light. They show nothing but empty hatred, an almost farcical harshness, as if he is nothing but a sulking, self-righteous child. And Kakuzu knows, knows, that Hidan is nothing like that foul-mouthed brat, that swaggering mask he puts on.
Kakuzu stays hidden. He has lived for far too long to put on airs. His mask hides, but it does not create. He has no need to swear and screech, he only does what he needs to, trying to forget the oaths and cries that Hidan can pull from him in the darkness, white hands twisting in his hair.
Conversation is blunt, stilted. They forget the sweat of the night, the haze afterwards, when they fall apart from one another, bodies aching and spent, lips bloody and torn.
It does not exist. Because they cannot see the cruel light bouncing off their bodies, cannot know the image of their sins. “Everyone’s so fucking ugly,” Hidan says to the darkened walls and Kakuzu believes him, because beauty is dead in their world, only to be found in the staleness of gold and the splash of blood. But that is only in the dark. In the light even metal and gore look grotesque, removed from the hazy wonderings of the night into the reality of the day.
Kakuzu dreads the day’s ending. Passion pulls him into a world he cannot resist and cannot control. He usually thinks that Hidan can control this world, has it in his hands, twisting into artwork, life and death, a composition. But he has seen the way Hidan’s eyes change in the dim light, bright and disoriented, distorted with desire, and hunger. He has seen the face, so wasted and alone, contorted in something like pain, or perhaps it is pleasure, only pleasure.
He knows it is wrong, he knows he hates it. But he knows he is trapped. Oh yes, he knows that they will fall hard. Only the lucky ones simply die after all.
(end)
I hope you enjoyed it ♥