Mind Lanes

Summary: A one shot, Kira/Katou, timeline before the first volume of AS or during the first
volume.
Disclaimer: Angel Sanctuary and cast belong to Kaori Yuki, whom I worship. No offence
intended with this fiction.

Warnings: Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll. Literally.

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Mind Lanes

After all the people had left, leaving behind their dirt and smell, their broken bottles and
their cigarette’s ashes in the half empty glasses, after the last one had stumbled out of the
loft, after the last sounds of drunken people swearing out on the street beneath the windows
had died down, it was only the music that was still there.
It was a music like dying, like slowly wasting away in a haze of drugs and memories, like
dawn after a night spent awake. Low bass sound was thumping dully, guitars were uttering
their last withering sound. He was lying on the bed, the sheets feeling soiled beneath him
and reeking of stale beer and smoke. But he was nothing better.

He smiled and slowly exhaled the smoke of a last joint. He loved being alone after parties,
as much as he disliked the parties themselves. Sakuya Kira was not a party-person as much
as he was renowned for throwing the greatest parties around the block. He liked the
destruction they left behind, the feeling of utter exhaustion, of contended little death.

A soft groan almost at his right ear made him notice the last remaining guest. He smirked.
Of the figure that lay slumped against his bedside was nothing visible to him but a head of
pale blonde hair. He only knew two people with hair as light as that that was not dyed, and
one of those two, namely Setsuna Mudou, was never to be found at one of ‘these’ parties.
Oh no. Kira kept him away from that stuff. It was not as if the boy would have been
welcome with his gang anyway. That left only one person.

“Hey Katou,” he said amusedly. “Still there?”

A silence followed, then another sound, this time more resembling a grunt. Good. He was
still reacting. That was something you were never to be sure of.
Some minutes later a pale gaunt hand sneaked over the covers to his chest, feeling for
something. He was too relaxed to push him away. Katou became more insistent, blindly
tried to find the joint he was holding safely in his left hand.

“Gimme...” the boy whined.
“You had enough,” Kira mumbled, but he didn’t really care. He gave him what was
remaining. Only seconds later he heard a surprised yelp and something that was supposedly
a curse coming from his beside. Could he really be bothered? He pondered the question
lazily for a while, then he finally dragged himself onto his elbows and saw that Katou had
obviously burned his lips on the smouldering weed. He chuckled and slumped back onto his
back. Then he reached out for one bony arm and hauled Katou onto the bed.

“There stupid... quit the whining already.”
He moved his thump probingly over the little red spot on his upper lip where he had burned
himself. Katou had closed his eyes but winced slightly at the pain.

The blonde looked ragged, dirty strands of his pale hair tousled in his face, his cheeks gaunt
and the corners of his eyes as reddened as the rest of his face was chalky white. He was
wearing a too big shirt, the baggy cloth trying to hide his painfully thin body and his
scarred underarms. Kira looked down at him. Normally he didn’t feel very much at the
sight of humans, of pathetic children and their stupid lives. Certainly Katou was a
particularly pathetic human. But he had to grudgingly admit that he did feel something at
the sight of this fragile being. Something. Sympathy.

There were some things on earth that lately he had become quite attached to. Music, for
example, human music, modern music, angry, sad, disturbing music. It seemed to touch
some hidden rebel part of his soul. He liked drugs, too, but for the opposite effect: they
veiled his soul, if only for a short time. He liked sex, simply for what it was. And he liked
to humans, those striving, hopeless, foolish humans. Those like Katou.

He trailed his chin, the outline of his throat, the delicate point of soft flesh where the pointy
collarbones met. The soft voice of the humming music took his mind away from him, into
far distances. Everything felt mellow, stretching into infinity. The sound of gentle accords
made him smile. He felt like closing his eyes, like expanding into the tender dark. He
slowly sunk down, resting his head on the lean chest beneath him.

Kira listened to the low beat of music, of a heart, to breath, slowly taken in and even slower
being exhaled. Warmth was invading him, like golden sunlight would seep into icy marble.
He wrapped his arms around the thin body, travelled with his hands along its sides, slid
under the baggy shirt, touched warm skin, felt the slow breathing of his friend. The hands
clung to the skin as if the very texture could tell them all the secrets of the human nature.

The touch became so desperate that Katou was once again roused from his drugged haze.
He slowly took in the situation, momentarily confused by the dark-haiheadhead on his chest
and the cold hands under his shirt. The information was filtering into his sluggish brain that
this was Kira, Kira who was ... was, well.. what was he doing anyway?
He searched for some snide comment, and came up with nothing better than: “..Kira?”
It sounded rather weak to him, and slightly slurred.
Kira turned his head, looking at him with dark, unreadable eyes.

“Are these your hands under my shirt?”

He asked, this time with a little more afford. Kira said nothing, he only put his head into the
crook of Katou’s neck, breathing, touching the skin with his lips.

Katou felt dazed still, not quite up to the situation. Some very small part of him asked if he
should be offended by this, because.. well... because Kira was his friend? No... it wasn’t
that... his thoughts trailed of, he sunk deeper back into the state of relaxation he had been in
before. This was one of the most pleasant trips he had had in a very long time. It was not
quite a high, more like a sleepy, content floating. He felt warm, secure. He didn’t quite feel
himself. He did feel hands on his body, lips on his skin, undemanding, lazy lips. His shirt,
he noted dimly at the edges of his conscience, was pulled up to his chest, and a face was
digging into his skin, a strong nose, caressing breath.
Hands stroked his thin frame, fingers callused from wielding a sword...

The smell, the smell of boy, the smell of man, the smell of humanity... the warmth, the
delicate warmth of a living soul, a body so fragile, always at the verge of death... the sharp
bones, the curves and the edges, the scar tissue and the unmarred skin, the silk hair and the
finest stubble on that pointy chin, those lips..
He kissed them. For a moment he hovered over Katou’s face, wondering what exactly he
was doing. He had no moral concerns, although the blissful smile on those lips could only
mean that the boy was far, far away above the clouds of his drug haze, but, no, he had no
moral concerns, he did not have them...
He kissed him again, and again, daringly parting those lips, diving into that slack mouth,
tasting his best friend. Tasted bitter smoke, and burning alcohol, and the sweet spicy taste
of weed. He tasted the taste of human innocence. Innocence. Kira could not help but think
of them, of all of them, as innocent. In the dimensions of angelic and demonic guilt and
crime they were innocent, maybe not pure, but innocent, their sins but the sins of children.

His hands roamed over the thin body underneath him. How far would he go? He imagined
taking the lithe young man, of merging with him, of feeling his body wholly. He had done
this before, he had slept with humans, with men and women alike.
But aside from one time, lives ago, with an incarnation of his beloved, of his master... they
had not meant more to him than pleasure and lust. For a moment he remembered that
woman, the beautiful face of this Alexiel reborn, that he had made love with, for making
love with her, not simply taking her, had been the request of the man whose body he had
overtaken. But still, even though she had wanted it, then, he had felt like doing something
wrong... had been disturbed... would it be like this again?

But then... Katou was not Alexiel. He may be a friend, a part of his human life, but he was
not her..
Would he be against this?
Would he be aware of it?
Would he struggle?
Would he enjoy it?

Dimly, unable to really process it, the boy on his back was aware of his pants being
removed very carefully, by gentle hands. He could react to it, like in a dream, his body was
limp and warm and happy. Happy...
Kira, he thought. Kira ... is going to do me?
More than once he had been taken advantage of when he was really drugged, but he wasn’t
really high, was he, just a little... and this was Kira... hell, he was to relaxed to move.
His jeans were off, slender fingers were tracing his legs, wandering aimlessly around.
Somehow Kira was the first who had ever touched him so... thoughtfully it seemed, so slow
and soft. Every touch seemed to stretch into infinity, every stroking of fingers to float...
wetness, warmth on his thigh, shiny ink hairs sweeping and brushing, teeth almost... very,
very softly he sighed. Breath, on his limp member, and caressing fingers... he almost drifted
off... something entering him... very slowly...

Katou looked delicate. Pale, and thin, and so relaxed although he was almost naked, except
for his shirt pulled up to his chest and his socks, although he was settled between those
long, bony legs, touching his cock... but he seemed to be unaware of it all, he didn’t react,
his muscles slack.
The softest of sighs escaped him, like a sleeping child. When he licked his fingers and very
carefully entered him, he was surprised to find no resistance. The hot flesh around his
fingers was as relaxed as it could be. Kira grimaced. At least he wouldn’t hurt him... he
moved his fingers, entered him a little deeper, resting his head on the flat underbelly before
him, exploring the heat... he felt himself getting harder, but from the body before him came
no response. He reached down, opened his black pants, cursing them for their tightness,
removing them awkwardly. Raising his dark head once more he looked down at the
sprawled blonde boy, the boy he fucked with his hand, the boy whose white thighs he
kissed, the boy who didn’t know this all... he stroked himself. He delighted in sin. He
groaned lightly.

Inside him.. moving... fleeting kisses on his bare thighs... he was being lifted... his thighs
lifted... a hardness... something was drawing him back from where he was floating
detachedly and he finally realised that Kira was inside him, was fucking him. He was doing
so nearly without sound, barely he could hear him groaning... he could not quite tell how it
felt to have that rather big hardness pushing inside him, but he did feel it quite clearly now.

If it hurt, then he was too numbed to feel the pain, if it was pleasurable, then he did already
feel to good to realise it. So his thoughts fluttered confusedly around the situation.
He didn’t put too much meaning in it... Kira had been horny, he was there, he didn’t
protest... so why shouldn’t Kira do this... it wasn’t as if he was too picky with his lovers
anyway.. he probably should feel flattered that he wasn’t to disgusting to do this with him...
there were quite a lot of people to think otherwise... he tried to shake these thoughts of.
Forget. That was what his existence meant. Forget.

Kira bent down, embraced the motionless body, pushing himself deeper inside. He now
barely shifted, feeling the tension inside him heighten.
He wanted to go on, to thrust inside as wild as he could, but still he wanted to rest, to stay
like this, in perfect union, buried inside this warm body without ever moving. His carnal
desire fighting his internal peace. His mind watched coldly as the lust won gradually over
and he finally let go of the tight embrace and lifted those thin legs a little higher, finally
entering him fully.

He looked down on Katou’s face as he rocked his hips, watching a disturbing frown settle
on the deathlike features. His eyes were still close as in sleep and his lips still slightly
parted from their last kiss, but he wasn’t smiling blissfully anymore. It was a curious
expression, serious and almost as if the boy was thinking very hard in his trance.
Black hair clouded his vision as he pushed forward harder, and sweat pooled between his
shoulder blades.

He was now almost fully awake, although not sober. His thoughts were becoming more and
more confused, racing like in a bad dream and fantastic like in an especially sodden high,
he felt the sudden need to open his eyes and make sure that this was really Kira who was
fucking him, was hard and hot inside him and not at all comfortable any more. He had felt
nonchalant and careless before, but he was becoming more disturbed by every second. He
wanted to be as cool about this kind of thing as Kira obviously was, but he felt he could
not, even when his sluggish brain couldn’t discern why.
The thrusts built up a fast rhythm and climaxed after a short time, he was painfully aware of
the seed spilled inside him, willing his senses to be dulled and dazed as before. With a deep
sigh, as if he had been holding back breath, Kira sagged down on him.
Katou opened his eyes for a second but his sight was swimming and he closed them again,
feeling light headed. Devoid of any more feeling. As the movement had ceased, he felt his
mind dim again, felt himself gliding away...

He woke quite suddenly, with a rush of adrenaline, as he often did. He needed time to place
his whereabouts. The loft. Safety.
He felt for cigarettes, noting that he lay on the bed, and that the bed was empty. Yesterday...
or today?... party. Yes, there had been a party and obviously he had stayed here. Slow Kat Katou got up, yawning and grimacing. Big headache. Hangover. Hangover indeed.
He wore his jeans and his shirt, only his shoes must be somewhere else. No cigarettes. A
disgruntled Katou made his way for the bathroom. It was noon. The street was noisy
outside.
In the narrow bathroom, a mirror that should rightfully not exist in this place showed him a
very unpleasant image and he looked away. Noticing that he was sore. He scratched his
head. He had had sex? With whom? Probably...ouch. Ouch. He slumped on the toilet,
losing his eyes, letting a blurred memory filtering in. Ouch. Kira. Kira had fucked him, if
this wasn’t some extremely fucked up hallucination.

Congratulations. Kira had fucked him and he had slept through it. He grimaced once more.
This was so typically his life. He tried to remember harder, wishing he had opened his eyes
that night, for it was difficult to remember things you had only felt, not seen.
That bastard was probably in school now. Had done him and not said a word about it. And
wouldn’t say a word about it later, if Katou knew him at all.
Leaning against the cold tiles he noticed he was still sticky, too. He wondered why Kira had
bothered to dress him at all. And he felt himself harden a bit. Kira Sakuya had fucked him.
Idly he wondered if they would do it again, maybe this time a little bit more awake.