Ch. 28: "Giving and Receiving"
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
PART III: UPON A PALE HORSE
All I ever wanted was to be what you needed
Cause something so strong, it could never be wrong
And all I can promise, is to say what I’m feeling
"He didn't try to bite any of you," Yohji said gruffly, staring at his fourth cigarette of the hour. "Why is that?"
Schuldich shrugged, staring at the ceiling from where he was lounging on the couch, his arm freshly healed by Ken. "We're the only 'family' he knows now," he said simply.
"Farfarello has... his own sense of honor," Crawford put in quietly.
Aya's lip curled in a sneer to show what he thought of that.
Farfarello had been wound up in a makeshift straightjacket created from many long sleeved shirts, and had been locked in the bathroom. The rest of the assassins had retreated to the basement to discuss the incident, with Schuldich keeping a constant mental tap on the madman.
"So this... medicine," Omi said slowly, "what is it, exactly?"
Crawford took off his glasses, polishing them on the front of his shirt. "It supresses his instincts- the instincts of a Vampire. It has certain side effects, however. And if he was Pureblood, the substance wouldn't work at all, so we believe he was Turned."
"Side effects," Ken repeated dully from where he was slouched in the extra chair, still a little numb from the revelation. "What kind of side effects?"
"It makes him sick," Nagi said quietly. "He isn't getting all of what his body- a Vampire's body -needs. His skin lost its color, along with his hair. It was like watching the life get slowly sucked out of someone. Sometimes on missions he gets a little blood from his victims- licks it off his fingers or his knife. He won't let himself drink any more than that. And he eats meat- practically rare. But he doesn't feed."
"There's a bigger side effect," Crawford continued calmly, his glasses flashing in the dim overhead light. "The substance causes insanity."
The four members of Weiß stared at him.
"You mean," Yohji said finally, "he's a fucking lunatic because of that medicine?"
Schuldich picked up a lock of hair and began nibbling on it absently. "Bingo."
"But that Hunter said he used to kill everything in sight," Ken said sharply.
"Hunters tend to exaggerate when it comes to Vampires. They do hate them, after all," Crawford said. "Of course Farfarello killed all the time when he was a Vampire; he had to kill to eat. We know very little about his past; only what small information Rosenkreuz told us when they handed him over to us."
"And they're the only ones with the medicine?" Aya grunted.
"Yes," Nagi replied quietly.
"We can get some more," Schuldich said carelessly. "They don't know we're against them, yet."
"What else do you know about him?" Ken demanded. When Crawford merely gazed at him silently, he added irritably, "If you expect us to keep a damned bloodsucker under our roof and still call that thing an ally, we deserve some answers."
"Don't," Schuldich snarled, and Ken looked towards him in surprise. Schuldich was looking at him from under hooded lids. "Don't refer to Farfarello as if he wasn't-"
"Human?" Aya finished coolly. "He isn't."
Schuldich said something scathing in German and pushed himself to his feet, striding back upstairs. Yohji hesitated, then went after him.
"With the medicine, he might as well be human," Nagi told Aya in a hard tone. "He doesn't want to stop taking the medicine. And even you saw it-- how even when he was feeling withdrawal, he still wouldn't let himself feed on Schwarz."
"Can Ken's Gift heal him?" Omi asked nervously. "Farfarello said something like 'He's a Healer, he can Heal it'."
"No." Nagi shook his head. "He meant that whatever he did to Ken, Ken could fix it. Which is why he went for him first."
Ken blinked. Aya scowled darkly, but he didn't notice.
Farfarello, even when nearly blinded by his own withdrawal and bloodlust, hadn't struck at his teammates. God knew he'd had the chance- Schuldich had grabbed him, and Crawford had put himself between the Irishman and Aya. And Yohji had been closest to the door. Instead of attacking him, Farfarello had made a beeline for the one person in the room that stood a chance of surviving his attack. He reached up to touch the twin scars on his throat softly.
Aya was wrong. As much as Ken told himself he hated the Berserker, there was something human inside that poisoned mind. He'd seen it when a little girl had thrown herself in the path of his knife, giving him pause. He'd seen it tonight, when Farfarello had controlled himself, even in his terrible thirst.
The question now was.. could he be saved?
"You've probably noticed Farfarello speaking a little more often," Crawford was saying. "As the meds wear off, it will bring back his clarity of thought. At least where his thirst isn't concerned. With another human's blood in his system, he could very well be a rational, calm man."
Ken looked up at him and saw that Crawford was watching him, and looking at where he was touching his scars. He lowered his hand to his lap.
"But he's going to need something to tide him over until we get the meds," Nagi said briskly. "Is there a pet store around here, perhaps?"
Omi made a face.
Crawford was still staring at Ken. I had a premonition about you, he said in a message meant for Ken alone. You're going to decide to do it anyway. So I'm not going to try to stop you.
Ken stared at him for a long moment before shifting his gaze to the others. He swallowed hard. He knew what Crawford meant. The ludacris idea had begun to tickle at his mind halfway through the conversation. He rose slowly, trying to put on a brave front.
"What if I give him a little blood?"
Aya's head snapped around, and he glared fiercely at Ken. "Sit down, Ken," he said sharply.
"Ken-kun," Omi gasped in horror. "No!"
"Farfarello was right," Ken bulled on recklessly, "in heading for me first. I mean... I can heal whatever he does, right?"
"You had to have a blood transfusion last time," Aya reminded him, teeth clenched.
"Maybe.. But those Vampires nearly drained me. They were trying to kill me. Farfarello just needs a drink..." he glanced nervously towards Crawford. "Right?"
Crawford nodded silently.
"What makes you think he'll stop after getting just a few sips, Ken?" Aya demanded brutally, striding over and seizing his collar. "Don't be stupid."
Ken knew the other man was just concerned for him, but he shrugged out of the older man's grip and set his jaw stubbornly. "What if Crawford or Nagi watches? They can tell him to stop, right? He'll listen to them."
"You're not doing it," Aya snarled. "End of discussion."
"And how are you going to stop me?" Ken snapped angrily.
Aya swung at him.
It was pent up frustration from days of terror and shock and pain and hate. Something in Aya snapped, and Ken knew somewhere in the back of his subconscious that Aya was only acting out of frustration and worry, but he'd put up with just as much shit as the older man. He ducked the blow and drove his fist into Aya's stomach.
Omi and Nagi leapt to their feet.
"Aya-kun, Ken-kun, stop it!!" Omi shouted frantically.
Crawford strode over, face grim. He wrapped strong arms around Aya's midriff and lifted him easily out of range of Ken's swinging fists. Aya thrashed wildly, furious at the older man's grip and wanting to get back to the panting soccer player.
"Put me DOWN, you asshole!" he yelled. Tongues of flame began to dance on his fingers, creeping up his wrists. Omi gasped.
Crawford ignored Aya's shouts, ducking the swinging fists. "Nagi," he grunted, "take Ken to Farfarello. Watch them. I'll calm down our little pyro here."
Nagi hesitated, then nodded, snagging Ken's sleeve and practically dragging him upstairs. Omi hastened after them. Ken dimly heard Crawford speaking softly, and caught a glimpse of them over his shoulder. Aya had gone limp, worn out, and was hanging in Crawford's steel grip like a panting rag doll. Crawford was saying something to him that Ken couldn't make out, and the flames were slowly dying down. Then Omi shut the door, and Ken faced forward as Nagi led him upstairs to the bathroom where Farfarello was being confined.
As he walked up the creaking steps, his feet feeling as if they were made of lead, he began to feel more and more afraid.
The Farfarello that had burst into the kitchen almost two hours ago was by far the craziest he'd ever seen the Irishman. It had made his blood run cold. He didn't want to look into that crazed golden eye again, or let him sink those two inch canines into his neck. Just thinking about it made his scars ache-- then he realized it was because he was getting closer to the bathroom, and his wounds were reacting to the presence of a Vampire.
Oh, Christ, I must be nuts, I can't do this, Ken thought frantically as Nagi unbolted the door and opened it.
Farfarello looked up slowly from where he was crammed into the space between the sink and the toilet. The improvised straightjacket was twisted and crumpled, and the first shirt was torn. He was breathing laborously, and his gaze was unfocused. At the sight of the three young men, his canines stretched immediately to touch his bottom lip. "Get.. OUT," he growled furiously.
Ken stared at him, caught completely off guard by the man's words.
Nagi edged around him and dropped to a crouch before the madman, who watched him with a mixture of fierceness and wariness. "Farfarello, listen to me carefully," the young telekinetic said softly, soothingly. "Ken is going to let you drink some of his blood. By his own free will. But you can't let yourself lose control, Farfarello. You can only drink a little bit. Take off the edge of the thirst. Do you understand?"
Farfarello darted a quick look from Nagi to Ken, then back again. "Yes," he hissed finally. He wriggled in a vain attempt to free himself.
"I mean it, Farfarello," Nagi said firmly. "He can Heal the scars, but he can't replace the blood you take from him. Do. Not. Drain. Him."
"Yesss," Farfarello repeated in a strange whisper, refusing to look at any of them. Nagi hesitated, then turned to Ken helplessly.
"Are you sure about this?"
Ken stared down at the squirming Irishman, then stepped forward. Nagi rose to his feet and stepped back, and Ken dropped to his knees in front of the pale albino.
Farfarello finally met his gaze. "Take these off," he growled.
"No, Farfarello," Nagi interrupted. "You leave the straightjacket on."
Farfarello shook his head irritably, his eye darting back and forth as if watching imaginary shadows. "Take it off," he mumbled. "So.." ..I can push him away, he finished mentally.
Ken hesitated, then reached behind the man and began to undo the cloth trap with shaking hands.
"Ken," Omi moaned. "Please.. be careful."
"It's OK, Omi," Nagi murmured. "I'll throw him off when he's had enough."
Ken began unwrapping the shirts from Farfarello's body slowly and carefully, watching the man out of the corner of his eye for any sudden movements. Finally he let the rumpled, ripped shirts fall to the floor, and swallowed hard, staring into the madman's feverish eye. His heart was thundering like a hammer in his chest, and fear rose up to squash his previous bravado.
I don't want to do this, he realized.
Farfarello lunged forward suddenly, as if he had sensed the other man's change of mind, and seized his skull in strong fingers, tilting his head painfully. Ken gasped in shock, then cried out as he felt a sharp pain at the base of his throat. He went rigid as the pain flowered out from his neck, seeping into his skull and through his body.
And Farfarello drank. His cold lips were pressed to Ken's throat and he was lapping up the blood like a man dying of thirst. Ken sagged against him with a whimper, and he thought he dimly heard Omi cry his name in fear.
Don't fight it.
Ken almost didn't recognize the mental voice at first. It was Farfarello, quiet and calm. There was no trace of insanity to it.
Relax, or it will hurt.
Ken forced himself to obey, letting his eyes slide closed and slowly relaxing his taut muscles. The pain ebbed, and he relaxed further, going limp against the man's strong chest. The pain was gone, now, and he felt almost.. lethargic. As if he were drugged or high.
Something tickled at his senses, then came in a firmer wash, something akin to strange pleasure, replacing the pain. He sank deeper into the dark, warm world that consisted of Farfarello's mouth on his throat, and the feel of his blood being pulled carefully from the wound in his neck. It doesn't hurt at all, he thought dazedly.
He thought he heard Farfarello laugh in his mind, but he couldn't be sure. He'd heard Farfarello laugh before, and it was a cruel sound; an uncaring and cold sound. This laughter was much more human.
Then abruptly it was over. Farfarello yanked his mouth free and shoved Ken away from him.
Disoriented and confused, Ken fell back to the floor in a heap.
"Ken-kun!" Omi rushed to him, clapping a palm over the wound to staunch the bleeding. "Daijabou??"
Ken blinked slowly and managed to lift his head marginally to look at the Irishman.
Farfarello had scooted away from him and was avoiding his gaze as he lifted an arm to wipe the blood from his mouth. "That's enough," he said gruffly.
"How do you feel?" Nagi asked Ken, as he and Omi helped Ken to sit up straight.
"Dizzy," Ken slurred. "My head feels thick. I want a nap."
Nagi managed a small smile. "Yes, get some rest. Don't worry, Omi, Farfarello didn't take much. But Ken's going to be exhausted for the rest of the day. Go get Yohji to help you carry him to his room. I need to talk to Farfarello."
Omi nodded and scrambled to his feet, hurrying to obey.
"Ken, you need to Heal it," Nagi reminded the dazed boy quietly.
Ken blinked at him and reached up to place a palm to the bleeding wound on his neck. He felt the familiar tingle, and the flesh puckered under his hand. After a moment he lowered his arm and let Nagi inspect the new scars.
"Good. Do you think you can stand up?"
Ken did so, leaning on Nagi heavily until his dizziness subsided somewhat.
A moment later Yohji and Omi hurried in. Yohji was cursing softly, and his face was flushed with anger. "Ken-"
"I'm all right," Ken cut him off hastily. "Just a little tired."
"He only took a quick drink," Nagi reassured the tall man. "After Ken gets some sleep and some food, he'll be fine."
Yohji's lips were pale and tight. "Why did you do that, Ken?" he demanded quietly.
Ken shook his head slowly. "No one else was going to do it."
Nagi cleared his throat when Yohji looked like he was going to comment. Omi moved forward to take one of Ken's arms, and finally Yohji stepped forward, brushing Omi aside. "Fine," he growled. "You're going to bed. But you aren't doing that anymore."
"But.." Ken started weakly. He took a wavering step forward, but his legs felt like putty.
Yohji lifted him with a grunt, and Ken protested indignantly.
"Put me down, I'm not a baby-!"
Yohji ignored him and turned for the door.
A very low, animalistic growl gave him pause, and he turned slightly.
Farfarello hadn't lifted his head, but he was glaring at Yohji warningly, his gaze slanted upwards, his single eye glittering with menace.
Nagi frowned slightly.
"Shut up, you," Yohji snapped angrily. "You did this to him. And if I hear one word about this 'mine' bullshit, I swear to god-"
"Just put him to bed, Yohji-kun," Omi interrupted firmly.
Farfarello bared his teeth, flashing his lengthened canines, and Yohji glared at him silently before carrying Ken from the room.
Schuldich met Yohji in the kitchen after the tall blond had put Ken to bed. He took a long drag from his cigarette and watched in silence as his partner slumped moodily into the chair across from him and reached for the pack of cigarettes.
"I'm assuming you already know what he did," Yohji grumbled, lighting the cigarette with hands that shook with anger.
Schuldich shrugged, exhaling smoke towards the ceiling fan overhead. The house was quiet; although it was only nine in the evening, everyone had decided to go to bed, mentally worn out with the events of the day.
"No one else would have done it," Schuldich quoted. "He's right about that. Farfie won't drink from his own teammates- 'family' -and none of you would have stepped forward."
Yohji tossed the lighter onto the table with a clatter, removing his lit cigarette from his lips. "So now what?" he snapped. "Farfarello got his little late night snack. Does that mean he won't be a raving lunatic anymore?"
Schuldich's grin was dry and unamused. "Don't be an idiot. It will hold him over-- but not for long. Until we get him those meds, he's either going to have to be confined or Ken will become his little blood buddy."
Yohji exhaled smoke noisily. "Not gonna happen," he said flatly. "I'm not going to watch Ken drain himself dry trying in a worthless cause."
Schuldich shrugged. "If we don't get the meds and Farf doesn't get his blood, things are going to get decidedly unpleasant around here. He'll starve, and then he'll go truly berserk. Once he's in the grip of a full-blown bloodlust, not even Schwarz can stop him."
Yohji frowned, disturbed by this news. Schuldich watched him silently for a moment before snubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray and rising to his feet. He walked around and put his foot against Yohji's chair, pushing it slightly so Yohji was half facing him. He placed a hand on the table and leaned over, leering at the lean man.
"That's enough talk for tonight," he murmured. "Didn't we have a previous engagement...?"
Yohji's thoughts flickered back to the night in the club, and his breath gave a little hitch.
"And don't try to pull the 'enemy' bullshit on me now," Schuldich said curtly, plucking the cigarette away and smushing it in the ashtray beside his own. "We're temporary allies now, right?"
Good enough. Yohji reached out and wrapped his arms around Schuldich's waist, pulling the startled German into his lap.
Schuldich got over his surprise quickly and met Yohji halfway, crushing his mouth to the other man's and burying his hand in golden locks to tilt his head in the direction he wanted it.
No one was awake in the flower shop that night to see the two men seated in the darkened kitchen, their harsh breathing breaking the silence as lips met again and again, hands running roughly over heated skin. Schuldich ground himself into Yohji's lap, his mouth latched onto a throbbing throat, and Yohji gave a muffled groan, fingers digging into the other man's hips as he drove his own pelvis up in instinctive need.
Yohji rose abruptly, keeping his grip on Schuldich and depositing him on the table, sweeping the burnt napkin holder and the astray off the surface, letting them clatter to the ground.
Schuldich gasped for air and tried to sit up, but Yohji pressed into him, capturing his mouth once more. He twisted his head away, chuckling. "Oh, no, Kudou," he breathed. "We'll see who gets top in this..." He rolled quickly, but Yohji tried to block the movement with his own roll, and Schuldich fell off the table and landed painfully, cursing in German.
"This floor's cold," Yohji panted, and helped the complaining man to his feet. He fumbled in the kitchen drawers for the ointment he knew was there. "The basement-"
They made it downstairs just barely, with much stumbling and murmured curses, clothes littering the stairs and the floor before they tumbled onto the large couch, each of them struggling for dominance.
Schuldich gave a triumphant laugh as he pinned Yohji beneath him, eyes glinting. "Nice try, Ku-"
Yohji reached down silently and pushed a finger roughly inside of the naked man on top of him.
Schuldich gave a staggered gasp, his fingers digging painfully into Yohji's shoulders. "K-kisama-!" he snarled.
Yohji smirked and contined to probe before removing the finger carefully. He quickly coated three digits with the ointment and had a brief struggle with the indignant German before he succeeded in sliding two of the slick fingers inside of him.
Schuldich hissed, and though his body went taut, Yohji could feel him trying to relax his entrance and make it easier.
"Quit being a sore loser," Yohji murmured against the trembling lips just barely brushing his own.
Yohji twisted his fingers and dug further in a quick motion.
Schuldich gave a strangled cry, his back arching, and Yohji smirked up at him, already painfully hard at the sight of the normally arrogant man reacting in such a pleasing manner. "You were saying?"
Schuldich could only gasp.
Yohji stretched him a little longer, always aiming for that sweet spot, then finally decided his partner was ready. He withdrew his fingers from the trembling man and quickly used the lube on himself. He took hold of Schuldich's narrow hips and glanced up, meeting the other man's hooded jade eyes.
"I'm going to get you for this," Schuldich promised.
Yohji smirked. "OK." And he began to push himself inside, holding Schuldich still in his strong grip.
Schuldich gave a strange sound and shut his eyes tight, his body shaking with the effort not to push the slightly taller man out.
Then he was sheathed inside an impossibly tight heat, and Yohji clenched his teeth as he forced himself to remain still for a moment, letting the other man adjust. "Schuldich," he murmured, suddenly aware of just how tense his companion was. "Have you... done this..?"
Schuldich grunted, then answered in a strained voice, "Never... bottom."
Yohji took in a shaking breath and relaxed his grip marginally. "I'll be careful," he promised.
"Kudou," Schuldich said through his teeth savagely, "shut the fuck up and do it or I'm going to smash your head against the floor."
Yohji gave a fleeting grin, and willingly complied.
He'd had several virgins in his long love life, so he knew how to be careful, and forced himself to go slow, not allowing himself to go as deeply as he wished.
At first Schuldich's face was a mask of tightly controlled pain, his breath hissing through his teeth. Then Yohji carefully drove a little deeper, aiming for the spot his fingers had found, and Schuldich have a strange half-cry, half-gasp, rocking back into him and driving him deeper. His cry broke out louder at the sudden pleasure, and Yohji tightened his grip on his hips, his breathing hitched.
Slowly he began to drive into the man above him with more force, but never too fast, and never too much. Schuldich was rocking back to meet him on every thurst now, gasping, his eyes closed tightly and his arms shaking badly from where they were propping his body up above Yohji's.
Yohji freed one hand to stroke the German in time to his thrusts, and Schuldich gave a deep moan that almost blew Yohji's self control.
Higher and higher the ecstasy soared, until finally Schuldich arched above him and gave a shout as release hit him. Yohji followed a second later, throwing back his head and groaning deep in his chest.
Schuldich collapsed on top of him abruptly, and Yohji grunted, pulling his hands free from under the man's dead weight and reaching up to wrap them around the man's trembling form. They lay intertwined for several minutes as they caught their breath, bodies still shaking with the aftermath. Finally Yohji shifted and carefully pulled out of the other man, and Schuldich winced before starting to push himself up.
Yohji snagged him, pulling him back on top of his chest, and blew a sigh by his ear, noting the sudden stiffness to the man's body. "Don't you dare," he murmured. "Only sluts bang and run."
Schuldich muttered something, his tone only half angry, but wouldn't look at him.
Yohji didn't press him, and let out a slow breath, closing his eyes and feeling deliciously sated. "Goodnight, asshole," he breathed.
"Shut up, Kudou," Schuldich shot back quietly, but there was no heat to the voice, only weariness.
Moments later they were both asleep.
Disclaimer: lyrics from Saliva's "Bleed for Me" (Daredevil Soundtrack)
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