blackwidow: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] blackwidow at 02:53pm on 30/11/2008 under , , , , ,
Title: The Grey Area
Rating: NC-17 to be safe.
Warnings: Violence, sex, cannibalism. Darkfic. All standard Karasu warnings :DDD
Pairing: KarasuxKurama, (unrequited) BuixKarasu, (vaugue) KarasuxYusuke.
Summary: You either fit into two slots, victim or associate, or you become something worth keeping purely for aesthetic reasons.
Notes: Short introspective Karasu-centric thing. He’s been hanging around a lot, prodding me to write more of him. So I wrote this to get his violent tendencies out of my system while I had some time to waste.


The Grey Area


It started with slow, gentle tears and flayed skin. Small nips from his teeth, puncture wounds from his delicate small fangs and sharp, iron-like fingernails that could cut through most substances better than any other.

The head of the body hung back on its shoulders, baring the throat to his wanton lips and sharp biting scraps along the pale skin.

By the time he was done, and his victim was truly dead and deformed, his chest was rising and falling with gasps for air that weren’t enough and adrenalin seemed to be a permanent resident in his body as well as the delightful tingle that ran along his skin and settled in his chest.

Before he’d lost to Toguro, he’d been perfectly fine. He wandered, captured, tortured, fucked and annihilated to his whims. But the Karasu his associates saw was not the true him. The person they saw was a shallow husk of his true self. They didn’t deserve to see that side of him, not unless he wanted to kill them. They didn’t deserve the affection.

They only saw the side of him that was like a feline predator. Patting at its prey, stunning it, subduing it, but refusing to kill it just yet. No, not yet. Play a little longer, parade the corpse.

Then tear it to shreds and devour all semblance of purity it ever had.

But keep its beauty.

There were many things he could be called in connection to animals. Youkai had strong connections with various elements of life that the humans thought were impossible and myth. How fun it was to watch them realise their mistakes.

“Oh, no,” he’d said. “I am alive.”

He’d cackled and laughed hysterically. He felt like he wanted pounce on the pretty, porcelain beautiful things that caught his eye and held it, turned it into an obsession, a need incomparable to just a simple desire. He’d keep the face clean and blank, perhaps he’d even cut it off a little later, but he knew he’d keep his eyes or he’d eat them, and then he’d have this one forever. In mind and in body.

Because of this, he was often marked as the crow. The dark, sinister, decedent crow.

He reveled in it sometimes. He’d sat in the lobby at the Dark Tournament, in full view of others, and had licked the blood from underneath his fingers like a well fed pet. Others avoided him and the members of his own team regarded him with either annoyance of a passive sort of danger.

They’d skirt around him in crowds and cheer for him in the stadiums. But they wouldn’t treat him like Bui did. Bui wasn’t someone he considered neither associate nor victim; no he was…many shades of the grey colour that marked the distance between the two, though still separate.

Bui treated him like an animal, and that granted him exemption from Karasu’s nonchalant or obsessive affections.

He forced Karasu to his knees and he only ever complied because Bui was the only kind of demon that he would get on his knees for. He was the only one he would allow in his mouth, making him gag and claw at strong powerful thighs whilst large hands caged his head, holding still. In these moments Karasu allowed himself to be thrown against the walls and doors, then picked up like a marionette and threatened to undress and obey, he allowed Bui to fold him in half and pull at his hair as Karasu himself laughed and delighted in the rough treatment as he fucked him, pressed against windows and walls.

After Bui would be quiet, and he’d often sit silently by Karasu’s side as he lay, fucked and more often than not broken. But it wasn’t a bad thing. He found no emotional turmoil in being used so violently, he only found a perverse pleasure. If he could ignore his own vanity long enough convince Bui to smash his head into shards of glass while they fucked, he would. Bui only ever fucked him violently and treated him so roughly when Karasu goaded him into it, all other times Karasu ignored all else he had to say about the matter.

Karasu sought what he himself could not obtain. The destruction of those he fixated on, like Kurama, was sweet and addictive and he delighted in seeing their fear, feeling the closeness and utter connection. In the moments he took a demons life, or a humans life, he became the solitary figure in their minds as the ones who killed them. Nothing less, nothing more.

Of course he desired the same, powerful affection of a murderer. He’d had it too, almost, but Kurama had failed, and Karasu had failed too.

So he came back.

And he killed Kurama.

And then Yusuke had killed him, he finally got his wish. Yusuke became his murderer.

He found another person to slot into that awkward grey category between associate in victim. Yusuke was his murderer, Bui his…lover.

They were special.


Music:: Knights of Cydonia - Muse
Mood:: 'amused' amused


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