Ch. 22: "Come to Me"

Disclaimer: WK does not belong to me. Neither do the lyrics that proceed each chapter- they're taken from various songs from the "Queen of the Damned" soundtrack. Any songs from different sources will have a disclaimer at the bottom. Don't sue. =pp

Oh what feels so right can't be wrong no
I know you like it when I touch you there
Just keep it quiet or they'll hear
Feel the trembling all down your leg
I'd love to head to your bed so that we can get...personal

Ken scowled at the madman as he held up the handcuffs that would be used to chain their uninvited guest to the pipes below the sink. "Don't get any smart ideas and try to tear the pipes up, either," he snapped. "First thing tomorrow, that Nagi brat's going to get you a straightjacket."
Yohji was watching warily from the doorway. "Are you sure you don't want any help, Ken?" he asked dubiously.
Ken didn't even look back at him. "I'm fine," he said shortly. "I'm not afraid of this lunatic. Just go to bed, all right? Besides, I'm a Healer. What's he going to do to me?"
Yohji looked reluctant, but he'd already tried to talk the younger man out of it unsuccessfully. Shrugging, he shut the door behind him as he left.
Farfarello stood immobile as a rock, staring at Ken with a glittering golden eye, silently daring the other man to touch him.
Ken averted his eyes and seized the man's strong, pale arm, pulling hard. "Sit down," he ordered flatly.
Surprisingly, Farfarello did so. Ken clicked one of the cuffs firmly around the man's left wrist and leaned over to wrap the chain around the pipes. He acted quickly, but Farfarello was faster. Quick as a striking cobra, his right arm shot out, hooking against Ken's throat and slamming him into the ground with the wind knocked out of him.
As Ken gasped harshly for breath, fingers around his own throat, the madman crouched over him, his eye glittering with a sadistic humor. There was a slight sound, then something sharp was tapping Ken's cheek. Fuck. He'd still had a knife on him. Ken went rigidly still, glaring furiously up at the man's scarred face as he tried to get his breathing under control.
"Get off me, you fuck," he snarled, trying to sit up.
Farfarello leaned his weight on the slighter boy, and Ken grunted in pain. He was pinned. The other man was just too strong. He felt a flicker of fear, and suddenly wished he hadn't insisted that Yohji get his rest.
"So defiant," Farfarello murmured, startling Ken by speaking. The man's pale face was emotionless, but a strange humor flickered still in his single eye. "You're a strange little man."
Ken glared up at him fiercely. "And you're a raving fucking lunatic," he shot back hotly.
"Such a temper," Farfarello observed, and Ken glared back mutely. "Did you forget, angel?"
"Don't call me that," Ken retorted without thinking.
Farfarello seemed not to have heard. He tapped Ken's cheek again lightly with the tip of his blade. "You owe me, angel. You're my pet."
Pet? Jesus, the man had been serious? "What is that supposed to mean?" Ken demanded. "I'm not your pet!"
"You are," Farfarello said calmly, and began to press down with the blade.
Ken got the warning. "What do you want a 'pet' for?" he asked sourly. "Another toy to carve up?"
Farfarello's small smile was fleeting and unnerving. "There's a big difference between a pet and a toy. Were you as rough with your family pet as with your toys?"
Ken stared up at him silently, trying to make sense of the man's words.
Farfarello moved the blade until it was lying just above his eye, and Ken stiffened. "I take care of my pets," Farfarello murmured. Then he brought the blade down in a quick, searing slash.
Ken gave a strangled cry, flinching violently. He threw up his hands instinctively to cover the wound, but Farfarello seized his wrists. They did a brief, furious scuffle for a moment before Farfarello's superior strength won. He pinned Ken's hands painfully to the ground with his free hand and his knee, blade lying forgotten on the floor. "Quiet, angel," Farfarello soothed in a quiet voice. He didn't seem disturbed in the least at the sight of the horribly bleeding wound.
Ken whimpered, tossing his head and holding his eyes shut tightly, black terror washing over him. His eye, the man had cut his fucking eye! Just the thought of being blind- even if only in one eye -was terrifying. He tried to scream. "GET O--"
Farfarello kissed him.
Well, that was the result, anyway. Since both hands were occupied- one handcuffed, one pinning Ken's wrist down -he silenced Ken simply and efficiently, pressing his lips roughly over Ken's. It was not meant to be a kiss, but the contact sent a jolt of shock through Ken's body, and he went completely rigid.
Farfarello pulled his head away, speaking calmly. "There is your collar, angel. You are my pet, now. Mine alone." He leaned more heavily- painfully -on Ken's wrists, and the other man winced, eyes still tightly closed. "You aren't blind, angel. But if you try to heal that..." he pressed down even harder, warningly, and Ken gave a muffled sound- somewhere between a growl and a sob. "If you try to heal it with your Talent, I will cut off your hands," Farfarello continued calmly. "Then where will your Talent be, angel?"
"You lunatic," Ken ground out from behind clenched teeth. "You cut my fucking eye! You sick fuck!"
"You will see in the morning," Farfarello said, unfazed. Then he abruptly sat back, releasing his grip on Ken.
Ken stumbled hastily to his feet and twisted the knobs on the sink, thrusting his hands under the warm water and splashing it into his face quickly, his body shaking badly. He fumbled blindly for the hand towel he knew was there, snatching it and holding it firmly over his wounded eye. He slumped against the wall and opened his good eye, glaring murderously at the madman sitting camly on the floor, watching him.
"I'm going to kill you."
Farfarello did not seem unduly concerned by the threat. He reached out deftly, and snapped the free cuff around Ken's ankle. Ken gaped at him. "You- you-" he sputtered finally, furious.
"Don't Heal it, angel," Farfarello reminded him, staring up at him with a cold eye. Then he settled his back against the wall and closed his eye.
Ken stood there dumbly for a long moment, water dripping from the damp towel held to his face. Already the wound was beginning to sting, and he knew that very soon the pain would get much worse. He looked around for the key to the handcuffs. Gone. What the FUCK was this lunatic planning?? He really was insane! He jerked his leg angrily. "Hey! Wake up, asshole! Where's the key? Get this thing off of me!"
Farfarello didn't respond, looking for all the world as if he was already deep in slumber.
Hot rage washed over Ken, and he shook with the effort to control himself. He reached up with the hand that wasn't pressing the towel to his face, then forced himself to drop it by his side. He wanted desperately to Heal the cut, but he had a sneaking suspicion Farfarello had been dead serious with his threat. If he decided to cut off Ken's hands... he shuddered at the thought. Christ. He was such a fucking LOON.
And why say all that garbage about not being rough with his toys if he was just going to turn around and try to blind him?? He wiped carefully at the cut, then reapplied pressure. Farfarello had said he wasn't blinded. Ken's instinctive flinch could have either saved or destroyed the eye, however. It hurt, but perhaps not as much as it would have if his eye had been slashed. He shuddered violently and slumped bonelessly to the floor, staring dumbly at the slumbering Irishman.
Well there was no way to know until the bleeding stopped. He was probably going to need stitches, though.
"Bastard," Ken muttered darkly.
But there was no response.


Omi's bedroom door creaked open, letting a little of the dim hallway light filter into the room in a single shaft that illuminated half the bed. Omi rubbed wearily at his eyes, blinking and stifling a yawn. "Who's there?" he mumbled.
A familiar, slender figure slid inside, pushing the door shut behind himself, and Omi felt his heart kick up a notch, taking in a surprised breath. "Nagi?" he whispered. "Is that you?"
"Aa." As the figure moved closer, the moonlight from the window illuminated him faintly, and Omi could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
Nagi was wearing a loose robe.
Omi had a sneaking suspicion that was all he was wearing.
Nagi chuckled quiet at the look on his face and crawled onto the bed up to where the other boy was, placing his hands either side of Omi's head. "I couldn't sleep," he breathed.
Omi gazed up at him speechlessly, his throat dry.
Nagi leaned down, pressing a pliant mouth to Omi's, coaxing a kiss from him.
After only a moment's hesitation Omi reached up, wrapping his arms around the boy's slender form, and Nagi let his weight settle slowly onto Omi, stretching himself over the blond boy's covered body.
"Nagi," Omi gasped when they pulled away for air, "do you.. I mean, do you think we should..?"
Nagi smiled slightly, thin fingers tangled in Omi's thick hair. "Aa," he said simply.

Omi had thought that it would be awkward- that their shyness and inexperience might somehow ruin the act.
But Nagi was willing and tasted so good, and when he slipped his hands inside the loose robe to explore his partner's slender body...
Nagi groaned into his mouth, struggling to disrobe himself without detaching his lips, and it was Omi's turn to laugh quietly. He rolled over, pinning the dark haired boy beneath him, and helped him with the annoying robe. Nagi reached up at the same time to pull on his pajamas, and their arms got in each others' way. Omi laughed again, breathlessly, and drew back slightly to peel off his shirt. Nagi reached down, toying with the tie on his pajama bottoms and grinning up at him impishly. Omi got on his hands and knees over him and allowed Nagi to pull the pants all the way off, shivering a little in anticipation and chill as the cool night breeze from the open window touched his bare skin.
After that, somehow, nothing was awkward anymore.


Yohji couldn't sleep.
He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom and frowning faintly to himself. He was worried about Ken- the boy was so frustratingly stubborn. He was going to get himself killed in his private piss test with the Berserker. He was so determined to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid of Farfarello that he had refused Yohji's help in locking the madmand up for the night.
Now, lying in his bed in his apartment, he wondered if he should have stayed.
Thinking about Schwarz only brought his mind back to what had been discussed earlier. Schulich and Crawford were quite possibly dead.
Good riddance. The world would be a better place without a heartless American and a cocky German.
Lips crushed against his, hands skimming down his abdomen... orange hair tickling his cheek...
He scowled, rolling onto his side huffily and trying to block those memories out.
"Thinking about me at night, Kudou?"
Jesus Christ. Yohji held the pillow over his head as if to deafen himself from something only in his head.
Schuldich was an arrogant ass who had been cruel to everyone he crossed paths with.. He saved Omi, his mind whispered.
Shut up. He was a jackass and had deserved to die. So what if-
So what if he happens to be the focus of half your wet dreams?
DAMN IT! Christ, here he was, having an argument with his subconscious. Freaking lovely. Come take me away to the funny farm.
So what if you you're wondering if... he has a glimmer of good in him?
That's the biggest pack of bullshit I ever heard in my--
When it struck, it was completely unexpected, and it wasn't as loud as a thunderclap or even a level tone of voice. In fact, if Yohji hadn't been thinking about the crazy German, he probably wouldn't have heard it at all.
Thinking about me again, Kudou?
Yohji sat up so fast he fell off the bed.

Author's Notes: I cheated you out of a lemon. T.T Gomen. I did have the intention to write one, but I'm not really in the mood right now... ^^;; I'll save it for another chapter, another couple. *cough* Short chappie. -_-;; gomen gomen..
Disclaimer: Lyrics proceeding chapter are from Craig David's song "Personal"

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