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Title: try to scour your inane soul
Fandom: D.Gray-man.
Warnings: Violence, gore. Religious imagery.
Characters/couples: Tyki/Allen, Rabi/Allen.
Summary: “I could kill you right now,” Tyki said, cooing against his ear once more. “Would you like that, boy? It'd take a second. Or less.”
Rating: NC17.
Notes: Written for
springkink: D. Gray Man, Tyki/Allen & Lavi/Allen: sensory deprivation, claiming or establishing ownership - I'm no longer a human being
try to scour your inane soul
“I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also."
“The Life of St Teresa of Jesus”
There was the touch that felt like the moon, too cold, making his skin both hot and cold, inside of it, his whole body at the edge of Tyki's cold, amused smile. He tried moving his arm – the one left, though he could feel himself trying to move the one Tyki had distroyed - and found he couldn't. Some of the butterflies were there, heavier than they should, their jaws upon his skin but not eating the flesh, not yet.
Allen wouldn't beg and he knew better than to fight like this: he could feel Tyki's gloved hand inside him, near his heart, making a soft cooing sound before he squeezed it and Allen coughed blood, almost blanking out. He bit his lip, hard, splitting it open.
“Tsk, boy,” Tyki smiled, pressing even closer to him. Allen could feel his jacket almost on his skin. Tyki was wearing cologne, and that with the scent of the blood made him a little nauseous. “Do you like to hurt, or something?”
No, he didn't; but Allen didn't get a chance to say that or anything else. He was too busy gasping and chocking on a scream as Tyki's hand closed tight around one of his ribs and pulled. The pain was too much, too harsh and yet Allen had to focus on something else – and then Tyki moved his hand, still inside his body, down over his hip, pressing unto the bone, scratching at it.
“Shall I shatter this for you too, boy?” Tyki said with that slow, wicked curl of his smile. He leaned down and brushed that almost kind smile against his neck, licking at a bruise before he bit, hard. Allen winced and groaned as his rib reminded him it was hurt. “I promise you I'll make you a pretty mess for your comrades to find out.”
Tyki drew his hand out and for a moment there was no feeling at all; it was too strange, this nothingness after the sharp brightness that pain brought. Allen opened his eyes wide – the moon looked so huge and yet the sky so dark. There was no moon there, nothing but the Noah's bright eyes and the white curl of his smile as he plunged his hand again and this time it felt hot as it moved inside him, at times almost tender – but then there'd be the flash of white that meant that Tyki would pinch something, gloved fingertips grazing nerves that were already damaged and the pain would be so much that all Allen could do was to swallow his screams.
“I could kill you right now,” Tyki said, cooing against his ear once more. He was rubbing his hair almost gently, while at the same time he kept on squeezing his heart, bruising it, as if he was about to rip it from his chest. “Would you like that, boy? It'd take a second. Or less.”
Allen felt too weak, nauseous, his body both strung too tight. Instinct made him try to call unto his Innocence and it made him want to fight, his body going numb after so much pain. He did his best to glare because even if his arm was gone, he would keep on fighting until there was no life. Even without Innocence, he would--
Tyki kissed him, then, smirking against his lips in a touch that, once again, was almost gentle. But then Allen felt wings beating against his chest a second before those wings were inside him; he screamed, back arching as he felt how the Tease ate the flesh of his heart. Nothing had hurt as much before and his whole body was just one focused, harsh point of pain.
“Sweet dreams, boy,” Tyki said, smirking as he stood up, fixing up his clothes, but there was nothing that Allen could say: the Tease was still eating inside him.
*
When Rabi moves to kiss him for the first time, it takes Allen by surprise, eyes open as Rabi presses close, just outside of Allen's room.
Anyone could come in like this: Link will be here soon, he knows, and yet there's something brittle in Rabi's expression that makes him worry, because he has seen that same look a handful of times now in his friend's face, something like need and hunger and fear, and he hates the idea that Rabi might feel fear around him.
So before Rabi can break apart he kisses him again, eyes closed and his left hand curled around Rabi's wrist to keep him from going. He licks at Rabi's lower lip and feels him sigh as he opens his mouth, as he breaks through the surprise of the second kiss and kisses back.
What Allen doesn't quite expect – at least not right then, not when sometimes he still remembers that cold grip inside of him – is that none of them wants to let go of the kiss. When Rabi pulls back a little is only to catch his breath before he's kissing him again, deep and thorough, and Allen has just enough presence of mind left so that he moves a hand to search for the doorknob and twisting it, and they break apart just enough to get in.
“Is this...” Allen starts once they're inside, but he has no idea how to keep on. He touches Rabi's sides and he wants to help him take off his shirt but still...
“I've no idea,” Rabi admits before he's kissing him again, and when Allen makes a move to get his hand under his shirt, Rabi helps him take it off without another say.
He's warm when he touches him, almost too much. Rabi grins, lopsided, shrugs and says that his temperature is weird like that.
Allen hums at that, just a little. “It's not as if it feels bad,” he adds, touching with his gloves still on Rabi's sides, the planes of his stomach, rubs his stomach with a thumb, just above where the buttons of his leather starts.
“Allen...” Rabi says, soft, his voice low. Allen doesn't quite look at him, for all that he moves, tugs Rabi closer to him, tilts his head just enough to offer a kiss. Then Rabi is there, too, a hand on the nape of his head, the other on his shoulder. That hand moves down his arm, all the way to his hand. Allen doesn't fight when Rabi tugs at the glove down, even if he does open his eyes to see what's Rabi's reaction at that.
Rabi kisses with his eye open at first, and his expression is, perhaps, just a tad worried about something that Allen, still, doesn't dare to ask, but he knows that when Rabi is ready he will tell him himself about it.
When the glove is off, Rabi does close his eye, moves his hand over the skin of his hand and Allen shivers, the skin of his hand always so sensitive and for a moment, he gets a flash of cold – so cold, as if the moon had been pouring inside of him, the coldness moving all over his body as if he was about to die - but Rabi feels solid under his hands, heavy against him, his hands rough with calluses and yet softer where his own gloves usually cover them. Rabi's mouth moves, full and lush, down his neck, and his hands slide up Allen's side, tugging at the few remaining buttons until his shirt is also open and he can press close, skin on skin.
There is almost a moment of panic, from Allen, when Rabi presses him against the wall, again one moment where he's not there – Tyki's hand moving inside him, breaking bones and his nerves and his whole self – but Rabi just keeps on touching his chest, moving his mouth from his neck to his lips again and Allen moans before he realizes as he nips at his tongue, until it's him the one who works open Rabi's trousers, pushing them down just enough so that he can wrap his left hand around Rabi's cock.
“Fuck, Allen,” Rabi moans, breaking the kiss a little. When Allen looks at him, his eye remains closed, trusting, and though Rabi leans more heavily against him, pushing against his hand, one of his legs between his own, Allen doesn't feel trapped, not at all.
So he smiles a little, and then he grins because the fire that is spreading inside of him is the good kind of fire, it's the one that makes him turn his head and mouth at the tendons of Rabi's neck, bite there and moan, his cock trapped inside his trousers. He reaches for Rab's hand with his right and presses it to his crotch and Rabi moans against him and shudders for a moment before he works his trousers open, too.
They're too close to do much more than stroke each other, their knuckles brushing each other. Rabi nuzzles against his neck and Allen shudders when he feels him lick at his neck, too, nibbling at his ear. But this is more than enough, good and perfect and Allen moans as he comes, and feels the way Rabi shudders and does the same three seconds later before they both lean even more heavily against the door.
Allen opens his eyes slowly, grinning as the flashes fade from behind his eyelids, content and calm that right now he can be sure that the only thing inside is the beating of his heart, as if it's telling that he's still a human, after all.
Fandom: D.Gray-man.
Warnings: Violence, gore. Religious imagery.
Characters/couples: Tyki/Allen, Rabi/Allen.
Summary: “I could kill you right now,” Tyki said, cooing against his ear once more. “Would you like that, boy? It'd take a second. Or less.”
Rating: NC17.
Notes: Written for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
try to scour your inane soul
“I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also."
“The Life of St Teresa of Jesus”
There was the touch that felt like the moon, too cold, making his skin both hot and cold, inside of it, his whole body at the edge of Tyki's cold, amused smile. He tried moving his arm – the one left, though he could feel himself trying to move the one Tyki had distroyed - and found he couldn't. Some of the butterflies were there, heavier than they should, their jaws upon his skin but not eating the flesh, not yet.
Allen wouldn't beg and he knew better than to fight like this: he could feel Tyki's gloved hand inside him, near his heart, making a soft cooing sound before he squeezed it and Allen coughed blood, almost blanking out. He bit his lip, hard, splitting it open.
“Tsk, boy,” Tyki smiled, pressing even closer to him. Allen could feel his jacket almost on his skin. Tyki was wearing cologne, and that with the scent of the blood made him a little nauseous. “Do you like to hurt, or something?”
No, he didn't; but Allen didn't get a chance to say that or anything else. He was too busy gasping and chocking on a scream as Tyki's hand closed tight around one of his ribs and pulled. The pain was too much, too harsh and yet Allen had to focus on something else – and then Tyki moved his hand, still inside his body, down over his hip, pressing unto the bone, scratching at it.
“Shall I shatter this for you too, boy?” Tyki said with that slow, wicked curl of his smile. He leaned down and brushed that almost kind smile against his neck, licking at a bruise before he bit, hard. Allen winced and groaned as his rib reminded him it was hurt. “I promise you I'll make you a pretty mess for your comrades to find out.”
Tyki drew his hand out and for a moment there was no feeling at all; it was too strange, this nothingness after the sharp brightness that pain brought. Allen opened his eyes wide – the moon looked so huge and yet the sky so dark. There was no moon there, nothing but the Noah's bright eyes and the white curl of his smile as he plunged his hand again and this time it felt hot as it moved inside him, at times almost tender – but then there'd be the flash of white that meant that Tyki would pinch something, gloved fingertips grazing nerves that were already damaged and the pain would be so much that all Allen could do was to swallow his screams.
“I could kill you right now,” Tyki said, cooing against his ear once more. He was rubbing his hair almost gently, while at the same time he kept on squeezing his heart, bruising it, as if he was about to rip it from his chest. “Would you like that, boy? It'd take a second. Or less.”
Allen felt too weak, nauseous, his body both strung too tight. Instinct made him try to call unto his Innocence and it made him want to fight, his body going numb after so much pain. He did his best to glare because even if his arm was gone, he would keep on fighting until there was no life. Even without Innocence, he would--
Tyki kissed him, then, smirking against his lips in a touch that, once again, was almost gentle. But then Allen felt wings beating against his chest a second before those wings were inside him; he screamed, back arching as he felt how the Tease ate the flesh of his heart. Nothing had hurt as much before and his whole body was just one focused, harsh point of pain.
“Sweet dreams, boy,” Tyki said, smirking as he stood up, fixing up his clothes, but there was nothing that Allen could say: the Tease was still eating inside him.
*
When Rabi moves to kiss him for the first time, it takes Allen by surprise, eyes open as Rabi presses close, just outside of Allen's room.
Anyone could come in like this: Link will be here soon, he knows, and yet there's something brittle in Rabi's expression that makes him worry, because he has seen that same look a handful of times now in his friend's face, something like need and hunger and fear, and he hates the idea that Rabi might feel fear around him.
So before Rabi can break apart he kisses him again, eyes closed and his left hand curled around Rabi's wrist to keep him from going. He licks at Rabi's lower lip and feels him sigh as he opens his mouth, as he breaks through the surprise of the second kiss and kisses back.
What Allen doesn't quite expect – at least not right then, not when sometimes he still remembers that cold grip inside of him – is that none of them wants to let go of the kiss. When Rabi pulls back a little is only to catch his breath before he's kissing him again, deep and thorough, and Allen has just enough presence of mind left so that he moves a hand to search for the doorknob and twisting it, and they break apart just enough to get in.
“Is this...” Allen starts once they're inside, but he has no idea how to keep on. He touches Rabi's sides and he wants to help him take off his shirt but still...
“I've no idea,” Rabi admits before he's kissing him again, and when Allen makes a move to get his hand under his shirt, Rabi helps him take it off without another say.
He's warm when he touches him, almost too much. Rabi grins, lopsided, shrugs and says that his temperature is weird like that.
Allen hums at that, just a little. “It's not as if it feels bad,” he adds, touching with his gloves still on Rabi's sides, the planes of his stomach, rubs his stomach with a thumb, just above where the buttons of his leather starts.
“Allen...” Rabi says, soft, his voice low. Allen doesn't quite look at him, for all that he moves, tugs Rabi closer to him, tilts his head just enough to offer a kiss. Then Rabi is there, too, a hand on the nape of his head, the other on his shoulder. That hand moves down his arm, all the way to his hand. Allen doesn't fight when Rabi tugs at the glove down, even if he does open his eyes to see what's Rabi's reaction at that.
Rabi kisses with his eye open at first, and his expression is, perhaps, just a tad worried about something that Allen, still, doesn't dare to ask, but he knows that when Rabi is ready he will tell him himself about it.
When the glove is off, Rabi does close his eye, moves his hand over the skin of his hand and Allen shivers, the skin of his hand always so sensitive and for a moment, he gets a flash of cold – so cold, as if the moon had been pouring inside of him, the coldness moving all over his body as if he was about to die - but Rabi feels solid under his hands, heavy against him, his hands rough with calluses and yet softer where his own gloves usually cover them. Rabi's mouth moves, full and lush, down his neck, and his hands slide up Allen's side, tugging at the few remaining buttons until his shirt is also open and he can press close, skin on skin.
There is almost a moment of panic, from Allen, when Rabi presses him against the wall, again one moment where he's not there – Tyki's hand moving inside him, breaking bones and his nerves and his whole self – but Rabi just keeps on touching his chest, moving his mouth from his neck to his lips again and Allen moans before he realizes as he nips at his tongue, until it's him the one who works open Rabi's trousers, pushing them down just enough so that he can wrap his left hand around Rabi's cock.
“Fuck, Allen,” Rabi moans, breaking the kiss a little. When Allen looks at him, his eye remains closed, trusting, and though Rabi leans more heavily against him, pushing against his hand, one of his legs between his own, Allen doesn't feel trapped, not at all.
So he smiles a little, and then he grins because the fire that is spreading inside of him is the good kind of fire, it's the one that makes him turn his head and mouth at the tendons of Rabi's neck, bite there and moan, his cock trapped inside his trousers. He reaches for Rab's hand with his right and presses it to his crotch and Rabi moans against him and shudders for a moment before he works his trousers open, too.
They're too close to do much more than stroke each other, their knuckles brushing each other. Rabi nuzzles against his neck and Allen shudders when he feels him lick at his neck, too, nibbling at his ear. But this is more than enough, good and perfect and Allen moans as he comes, and feels the way Rabi shudders and does the same three seconds later before they both lean even more heavily against the door.
Allen opens his eyes slowly, grinning as the flashes fade from behind his eyelids, content and calm that right now he can be sure that the only thing inside is the beating of his heart, as if it's telling that he's still a human, after all.