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The Ties That Bind	By : ElegantPaws Category: +. to F > Ai no Kusabi Views: 5761 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Stating the obvious, I do not own Ai No Kusabi nor do profit from this little endeavour other than the sheer joy of clacking the keys and doffing my cap in reverence to Yoshihara Rieko for creating such complex and intriguing characters.

Chapter List
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The Ties That Bind

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko

Edited by: Ainzfern

Key Pairing: Iason/Riki, Raoul/Katze

Rating: Mature

Parts: WIP – 3 of 7

Reviews are fuel.

Chapter Three – Conspicuous by Absence

Nothin’ like workin’ up a good sweat and being paid for it, this was fun.

All that adrenalin coursing through his veins itching for more as his muscles flexed in readiness for the next round.

Guy reflexively eased back against the railing, his peripheral vision the only other warning as Donovan’s handiwork tumbled through the doors and down the stairs into the alleyway, left for him to finish.

“Do your thing, Baby. Just don’t kill him.”

That Baby shit has got to go, but right now, this was the icing on a thus far spectacular day. This was better than that coffee shit Riki use to pour down his neck in order to pry open his eyes of a morning. Never did convince him that more stout was the natural cure all for that moody little shit, who had taken readily to drunkenness upon his first return to the slums after years of absence.

Seriously weird time, cause no matter how he’d tried to rekindle things, the bastard never surrendered, even when in obvious need of relief from life’s little stresses.

Guy coiled his fist tightly, ignoring the wet slimy feel between his fingers and the jagged cut that had begun to burn with his own blood.

He frowned at his fist, trying to recall.

Had to have been an incisor that inflicted that, he growled at the unexpected injury and charged down the stairs hell bent on misplaced retribution. Someone had to pay for the burn. This new piece of shit would pay. In fact he intended to remove all the offensively caped teeth, so perfect and even, in this bugger’s head with one swing. So what did it matter if it had been the patron before that caused the irritating bite of pain as he curled and uncurled his fingers, testing reflexes and checking for a break – none, would be good as knew after some ice and a bit of binding.

Someone had to pay for the shift in his mood. Why had Riki risen in his thoughts just now?

Guy’s eyes narrowed speculatively, nothing but grey pinpoints of light in his handsome head as he reined in the thirst to kill. No point finishing him off too quickly. It was about the chase after all, far more than the eventual conquest as flesh met bone with satisfaction.

Surprisingly white teeth gleamed in his head as he began to grin, a touch of insanity evident in the shadowed gaze beneath chestnut hair that hung lankly over his eyes.

This one would do nicely.

Anyway, he really needed to get that smug look off his face. Just look at how he tried to right himself and look down his already broken nose at him. That was justification enough for what he planned. Not that he needed anymore reason. It was in the eyes. They really were annoying him. Though laced with fear, the supercilious aspect remained. Come to think of it, when had he last taken an eye for a prize?

The grin became maniacal. Clearly not an idiot, cause the moron began to cringe, sensing another change in his predator’s stance as he towered above him, legs splayed in readiness.

It was the natural order of things in Ceres to prey on the weak of will and body. This one in particular was permanently barred, only way he’d a been taken through the back, Guy reassured himself.

Sooner or later something or someone would have taken this bastard out, if for nothing else his ‘tude and attempting to ruffle Kato’s feathers.

WRONG! Never fuck with Scarface’s possessions, even the weak and infirm of them.

As far as Guy could figure, he was doing Scarface a favour ‘cause sure as Jupiter’s eternal will, Katze would kill the fucker anyway, no questions asked, when he saw the impressive shiner Kato was sporting due to the little disagreement about credit.

A grim malicious smile played about Guy’s lips as he eyed the former patron who stood a foot taller than Kato, but was just the right height for one of Guy’s patented right hooks.

Guy hissed as he uncurled cramped fingers and kicked the patron in the groin for good measure.

Felt good.

Was that whimpering?

“And here I thought you had no balls? Good on ya. Not that you’ll ever been needin’ em again for anything after this,” Guy howled with laughter, setting off a malevolent din of echoes in the alley.

He’d really need that ice soon.

Had to give credit where it was due, that old boy Kato still had a pair trying to take him out unaided instead of waiting for Donovan’s assist.

As the man coward, nervously sidling towards the back wall in obvious pain, Guy promised in a soft menacing tone to be mercifully quick, though he had no intentions of being so.

“Not so hoity now, are ya?” Bison’s leader snickered, gray feral eyes fixed on their prey, a subtle thrill coursing through his body as he cracked his spine.

Must be said, a part of him, a very great part of him fully enjoyed the terror he saw in those pale blue eyes as he hauled the man up and raised his fist for the decisive blow.

Oh the thrill of it. Few understood what it did to you inside, except another fighter born to it. There was pleasure in strife, in kill or be killed. His lips thinned in displeasure. This was not an equal match, but one had to take satisfaction, however small, where they could find it.

“You ready?”

There was pent fury in that shiver he felt coming off that body, mixed in with fear. Guy could smell it.

“Feelin’ generous, what’ll it be? Eye, jaw, teeth? What do ya wanna lose the use of today, my man?”

It was all about the anticipation more than the climax, the force of connection, the moderate give before the sharp crunch of bone, sometimes even your own, then the anticlimactic slackened jaw and the mess of course, if done right. The copious spewing of blood and rank sweat of the vanquished that pervaded the air as you stood over what remained.

“Don’t please...” came the barest plea for clemency from deep within the target’s restricted throat, clamped hard by Guy’s working fist.

Guy smiled beatifically, gray eyes distant and bright with psychotic glee.

He’d be real pretty when Guy was done. “No can do buddy boy, should have thought of that before messin’ with Scarface’s staff. Count yourself lucky, he hasn’t seen it. Cause you’d a been bagged by now.”

The chestnut haired mongrel snorted as the ex-patron visibly trembled at the implication of his words.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t realize...who. Please, I’ll give you anything.”

Bison’s leader heard the door creek, but ignored it. Donovan was doing double time. He wasn’t even going to get to fully appreciate the moment.

“Slow down, Asshole, barely gotten started with this one yet. The last fucker bit me. Wanna enjoy this one a little.”

No reply. Donovan was probably pissed. Didn’t matter, nothing was going to spoil the moment. He heard the door creek closed and the shuffle of feet. At least he wasn’t going to interfere. The coiled tension in Guy’s back eased.

“Hey.”

“Give me a second here, Donny Boy, trying to enjoy the moment here. Don’t like the shade of blue in this one’s eyes, reminds me of that fuckin’ Blondie, like lookin’ into ice. All you can see’s your reflection.”

So the white tee would be fucked for sure this time. This one looked to be a bleeder; at least Donovan had stopped interrupting. He’d give him a show alright. The minder had never been treated to him in action.

A preternatural growl slowly rose within Guy’s chest as his heart began to race and his muscles tensed. Hell, even his bad boy was enjoying this game. Who didn’t get a hard on in the heat of battle, other than pussies, like this freak with the weak jaw?

Guy inhaled the scent of fear with pleasure. This shit was real. Life and death in its most visceral form, only one would stand after this. That is all that mattered.

“Please...I’m beg-begging you...” the muffled plea came again invading the sacred space within Guy’s already adrenalin clouded mind. Bison’s leader blinked, registering for the first time, the distinctive rasp of that ‘Hey’.

Gray eyes became almost sleepy and serene in the moment, his decision made as he slowly examined in careful detail the sweaty, bloody face before him attempting to cower beneath a few rapidly swelling digits. It seems Donovan had broken a few for daring to touch the manservant.

“Not in the face.”

Guy sniggered and pulled his punch, temporarily as the scent of pungent urine reached his flared nostrils. He pinned the formerly well dressed vermin to the nearest wall as pale gray eyes lazily lowered noting the ever widening dark shadow on the man’s trouser front.

“So like if you’re gonna shit yourself for the finale, don’t get any on me.”

Such a delicious crunch when flesh met bone as the patron fell backwards, an arc of blood leaving a darker decorative spray against the wall when his head whipped in an attempt to deflect, but too late.

“No more. Not in the face, I beg you. I won’t be able to explain it to my superiors,” the man gurgled spitting blood and what looked like a molar with his now garbled speech.

Guy stopped mid step and smiled at a job well done. His fist hurt like fuckin hell but he honestly couldn’t remember the last time a single punch had been that effective. He gazed at his openly bleeding knuckles and grunted his indifference.

“And this is my problem how, exactly, Buddy Boy?”

The plaintive squeak as the bloodied face pressed against the wall in fear was the icing on the cake.

“Enough!”

Fuck but he was seriously goin’ to have to speak to Donovan about these interruptions. A man simply couldn’t do his work in peace without focussed concentration.

Guy kicked the man’s trembling legs from under him and cocked his head, long chestnut tresses wet with sweat as he peered beneath them at the object of his loathing who continued to cower and whimper in fear. Those eyes were reflective, alright.

“Watchya, starin’ at Buddy?” Bison’s leader asked with soft menace, long lean limbs, practically strutting with a happy gait. Maybe he would take that eye. He felt for his blade, secreted within the inseam, tucked beneath a fold, easy to release. Riki use to tease him about his wide stance, but kept the jewels safe.

The chestnut haired mongrel stretched languidly while flexing his fist again and smiled at his injury. It had been worth it.

“Wanna make you pay for this, but then, kind of a waste and rules are rules. Ain’t that right, Baldy?” he shot back over one broad shoulder to the presence he felt not a metre away from him now.

Those fearful blues looked beyond him and up the stairs, almost pleadingly, confirming Donovan’s position.

Guy heard the pronounced sigh behind him and chuckled. There were rules. He was counting on Donovan not to interrupt the dance, so long as he didn’t quite kill his quarry; maim permanently yes, but never kill, too many questions.

“Ya ain’t gettin’ no help from Baldy. Focus on me, as I’m the last thing you’ll ever see. He gave you to me as a present and that was just foreplay. We haven’t gotten to the good stuff yet. So what’s it to be? Decisions. Decisions. What’s a man to do with all these choices?” Guy feigned a contemplative pout as he rubbed his chin.“Nah, I want the eyes. I hate your eyes. They’re already dead, just like his.”

“You’re...you’re insane,” the man’s pubertal squeak was almost inaudible, as he spat another tooth.

“Look at you now, big man, just a shadow of your former self.” Guy sneered down at the bruised, battered patron, laughing aloud at the sound of Donovan’s heels as they stealthily clicked coming even closer.

“I will report this...this...abuse,” the man offered impotently, eying the figure behind Guy with hope.

Citizen his ass. Out here, in this alley they were equals; a defining moment, where dark irony usually against him, held sway. He was the victor here. For the moment he had no rival.

“Chalk this one up to personal experience, Buddy Boy.”

Cold gray eyes surveyed the former client speculatively as he watched the man’s trembling hands reaching within his torn silk jacket coat and winced.

Instinct guided Guy’s next movement as he lunged, effortlessly throwing his weight behind a punch designed to snap the pale neck exposed from beneath the torn collar as he simultaneously reached for his blade.

He knew his aim and felt the energetic buzz that always came with this perfect moment. This was heavenly. The raw kinetic power of the singular motion, all focussed into one perfect and fluid thrust of outstretched arm, whose recoil reverberated in his spine.

Fuck but this was better than coming...ish.

The percussive impact would do the job before the fucker could extract whatever defensive weaponry had been missed by Donovan’s crew.

It came without warning. Guy had dropped his guard.

“I said HEY! Enough! Guy! You’re gonna fucking kill him this time!”

Time ceased as Guy turned, his damp mane whirling midair at the sound of the voice, hearing the rebound of the harsh command echoing within the space. He felt the familiar pincer-like grip of a no longer roughened palm about his wrist as it trembled with the effort of staying his hand.

“What the fuck!?!?”

The look of blinding terror on the former prey’s face would have to be satisfaction enough as he moved with surprising speed towards the exit before taking off at a run into the relative safety of the street. Fortune, while not smiling, had been with him in that stalemate created by that dark brooding figure whose presence had proved his saving grace in the end.

He didn’t have time to observe Guy’s own face and body pressed to the cold wall, his truly good arm hiked high and rather painfully by his elbow mid-back, as lean strong hips, slammed hard against his backside, nullifying the frenetic movements and virulent cry of impotent rage.

Even in his violent haze, Guy immediately recognized the form pressed against him, that of his former lover. He gritted his teeth in anger.

“Calm the fuck, down...okay?” Riki hissed against his ear, kicking his legs apart. No way was he going to give him leverage. When it came right down to it, Guy could take him pound for pound. It was best to put him at a physical disadvantage, til Donovan showed.

Guy’s taut muscles began to relax beneath Riki’s grip.

Riki sighed, recognizing the play for what it was. Nope. Not giving in to a false sense of security. Don’t give an inch. He wanted you to slacken your grip and then the fight would be on with a vengeance. In some ways, his towering rages were akin to Iason’s but with this one, at least he had a fighting chance.

“Not gonna work, Guy.”

Way too much energy with nowhere to go, damn but he remembered this and not too fondly too. The only cure was a ride, out in the Wastes, beyond Ceres. That always blew off the pent energy quick, either that or sex.

That was not an option.

Riki’s sable brows worked in confusion, wondering where in hell the finality of that internal decree had come from.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

It was almost a cackle Riki heard bouncing off the walls as Guy snorted. “What? Not content to serve your Master? Need a little action?”

Riki snarled in frustration, his own rage rising at such close proximity. “Don’t start, Guy. You really don’t want to go there with me, right now.” Riki warned easing, his left hand tentatively feeling down the inside leg of Guy’s jeans, feeling for the slight telltale give as he smoothed bare fingers over rigid hot muscle and found what he was looking for just below Guy’s crotch.

He never changed.

“Higher...might find something to your liking.” Guy taunted softly with a smirk in his voice, he did not actually feel, how odd.

There was a time he would have welcomed those hands. They were too soft now. Those digits were still strong, long and flexible in their dexterity. It didn’t feel right. Still, no fuckin’ way was he going to lose.

“Fuck you. As if. I got nothin’ for you. I know you can feel that at least or has your Donovan worked you over til you’re numb?”

Guy flinched. It was the truth. Riki really wasn’t interested. More bent on subjugation than anything else.

“Get off me, then, asshole.”

Both heard the door swing open with a bang, shards of cement falling from the adjoining wall where the handle had careened into the unforgiving wall. Involuntary Riki spun to face the accusing glare of cerulean eyes in a suddenly pallid face, as another patron was pitched down the stairs without thought.

“You heard him, Riki.”

Donovan’s face brooked no argument as pale lips retracted around even white teeth. “GET. OFF.”

Never one to take orders, Riki’s eyes narrowed as he tracked Donovan’s gaze to Guy’s inseam, where his hand had found the alternate, he knew Guy always carried as a last resort.

Donovan had misunderstood.

“Chill, just checkin’ the status of the blade he carries, Donovan, not encroaching on your territory,” the dark mongrel practically growled between clenched teeth. He really didn’t have the time for this jealousy bullshit.

He had to find Katze and that overgrown, sanctimonious bitch, his Blondie.

The minder blinked at his words surveying both from the top of the stairs. “I asked you to come out and keep an eye on him. Not cop a feel, Kiddo.”

Riki blinked too, not at Donovan’s words, but his own possessive thoughts, ‘His Blondie.’

Instantly the dark mongrel released Guy’s wrist and stepped back, prepared for the inevitable swing to his jaw.

Bison’s leader spat in irritation and rubbed his wrist, pale gray eyes livid and equally accusing and if truth be told, secretively pleased, by the expression on Donovan’s face.

“Mind your own business, Baldy, had it under control. He wasn’t doing anything, if it is any of your fuckin concern. Things just got out of hand with the last one. Was maybe enjoying my handy-work a little too much and the Blondie’s favoured hole, intervened.” Guy offered as he slicked back damp hair from his face, diffidently. He spat again, and wiped the taste of bitter grit from his mouth. “You should have someone wash down these fucking walls with disinfectant. Who knows what shit’s on them.”

Donovan folded long powerfully built arms across his chest and glared at Guy. “Shut up, Baby, and get inside. Talkin’ to your Ex here, not you. Have a tantrum at the bar. Drinks on me, this time.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, Asswipe? If you hadn’t come busting in...”

“I said, shut it, Baby or else Riki will be treated to the sight of your fine backside being spanked unmercifully.”

Guy stood to his full height and approached the bottom of the stairs with rolled fists and his usual psychotic snarl affixed to his handsome face.

“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” Donovan snickered, wetting his lips as he gazed at Guy’s long, sweat soaked limbs appreciatively, his blue eyes stopping pointedly at his lover’s crotch. “Shame I don’t have time to show you how much, right now. Riki and I have business.”

Riki grimaced and leaned against the cold wall and shrugged. “I don’t believe this shit. Why am I in the middle of this domestic craptastic moment and what’s with this Baby shit?” The dark mongrel shuddered in disgust. “Second thought, I don’t even wanna know. Get lost, Guy. The rational amongst us need to talk.”

It could not be his imagination, Guy coloured hotly as he toed the ground and tried to disappear beneath hard ground. Hooded eyes travelled to Donovan’s face where he saw a smirk of victory and more to the point, the shadow of a smile on no longer thinned lips.

He’d been forgiven already for his outburst. Raising his chin, Guy pointed swaggered past the minder and slammed the door behind him, just to make a point. He’d get even later with Riki for that comment. Why’d everyone think he was crazy? He simply enjoyed his work.

First that dickhead, Admon and now Riki, he was too rational.

Both men glowered at each other, and sighed aloud in relief. Riki’s irrepressible smirk, breaking the tension filled space.

“You sure you want that in your bed permanent like?”

The care worn decidedly handsome face smiled softly. “Handful, but worth it, given time, I guess. He’s a superior lay.”

Riki rolled his shoulders and chuckled. “True, but better you than me, Donovan. That ship’s left port.”

The minder inclined his head a fraction. “Good to hear. Tastes change. Now, what have you learnt since we last spoke about Katze?”

~~~TTTB~~~

Blue.

Nothing but a sea of blue that pulsed and wended its way beyond yellow eyes whose irises retracted from the blinding iridescence before them; the pulse was now in his chest too, drowning him, leaving him breathless, shifting the cadence of the beat of his heart as it strove to get in.

Should he continue to resist? Logic was failing him.

“Fascinating, you really are an analytical creature, aren’t you? Even now, you resist the intrinsic emotion of fear so prevalent within your kind when encountering something new and unfathomable.”

Katze gripped the side of his head at the dormant pressure suddenly felt within his temple as he fell to his knees. He felt something warm on his upper lip, seeping from his right nostril, blood.

“It will pass. A minor adjustment will be made to further accommodate your... biology.”

The invasive tonality was less strident this time as it reverberated in his head. He breathed, allowing the cadence of his heart to surrender, easing the grip that had held his chest as he opened bleary eyes to the new vista meant to appease.

“Excellent. You understand the rewards of accommodation. You learn quickly, Katze. Is this vision to your liking?”

Citrine eyes narrowed, though the light source had profoundly dimmed, giving rise to a lake view beyond the manifested arched window shrouded with darkness, but for the fluid image without, where peace reined in the restful, rhythmic swell of subtle waves.

“Sit.”

A command to be sure, quietly delivery in cadence of speech that felt familiar, and wholly disquieting in its knowingness; this image before had always occurred in sleep. It was the safe place he frequented without knowing why. A place he had never been.

“It was her favoured place, on her home world, your mother.”

Katze’s head snapped around in fright and glared at the pulsing plume of light. “What...But how?” Odd, it was no longer blinding those amorphous tendrils of light had taken on a subtle yet distinctively anthropomorphic form.

“Is it pleasing to you to know you carry her within?”

A cold shiver slowly coiled about his spine, like an invasive caress. He looked down at his hands, noting the light source had reached his body and was slowly creeping up his limbs.

It was slowly consuming him.

The dealer gritted his teeth but offered no physical resistance because of the threatening cold caress that surrounded his chest.

“Why am I here?”

“How impertinent your question, Katze. Many have ceased their function for less in questioning my auspices. I am giving you a gift, though you show no contrition.”

Katze’s heart began to beat rapidly in his chest at the threatening pause. The room had grown decidedly cold.

“I’m sorry. I did not know her. Thank you.”

Hum.

Just a dull, constant hum within his ears while waiting for the inevitable response of the test, because it was that, no question about it, Jupiter was gauging his responses.

“Very good, indeed, challenging yet not.”

“Pardon?” Katze asked tentatively, noting the spike in the malevolence of the pulse surrounding him. “I meant no offence, Jupiter.”

“He worries a great deal about you. He values you. Residual race memory no doubt, part of the reptilian brain you humanoids still have. Most unfortunate that it is essential to your survival and growth. It has proven decidedly troublesome.”

The dealer bit his lower lip, searching for a safe topic. Jupiter was not making it clear, who worried and he wasn’t going to help. If he accomplished nothing else, he would protect Raoul. He felt a sudden pressure at the back of his skull and a dull ache as more blood trickled from his nostril.

“Ahh finally, there it is. Your synaptic defences are admirable for a natural but with the right stimulus, wholly readable. If the image is to be believed, rather disconcerting that Iason is not, apparently, alone in this atypical pursuit amongst Elites.”

Katze began to sweat, though still attempting to focus his mind on the lake without to no avail.

“It’s not his fault. I made him...he just. It got out of hand. It’s not going to happen anymore. You have me. Punish me.”

That deafening hum kept reverberating painfully in his ears.

“Admirable, this misguided need to protect a Chosen, but not required, Katze of Ceres. We have barely scratched the surface of this encounter. Tell me of your kin, the Dark Mongrel in particular, I require an alternate perspective, unclouded by indomitable need.”

~~~TTTB~~~
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The Ties That Bind