The Broken People | By : Meirav Category: +S to Z > X/1999 Views: 1391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X/1999, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer:
I don’t
own X.
Warning:
obviously,
due to the R rating and the fact that I’ve written ‘Lemon’ in the description,
there’s going to be graphic description of a sexual activity. So don’t be
alarmed when members start popping out of no where…oh and it’s kinda dark and
evil.
********************************************************
The Broken People
When
I was a teenager and hormones began distorting my mind from the usual
Sakurazukamori training my mother sat me down and explained the facts of life to
me.
“When
you’ll be a grown man and know what to do with the members of the other sex”
she said, calmly combing her impossibly long black hair “you must never choose
a mate amongst the normal people”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll break their mind Seishiro darling. Your true occupation and
the things that you do will make them run away from you, even report you to the
authorities”
“But
the authorities know of us mother”
“Yes
sweet boy” she smiled with little dark red dyed lips “but that won’t stop your possible
mate from running to the media and talking to them, might they reach that level
of shock and disagreement with what you do”
“Ah”
“For
us there are only the broken people to choose our mates from” she looked out
the window she leaned against, another sweet smile on her tiny lips.
“The broken people mother?”
“Yes
Seishiro, those whose life ran off track, those so consumed by their shattering
reality until they no longer care when they walk straight into the lion’s den”
She
spoke no more, rising off her seat to work on her delicate little bonsai cherry
tree.
She
kept that miserable thing for no particular reason, to my childish eyes,
perhaps whenever she trimmed it’s limbs viciously she
took some strange revenge at our tree. Perhaps.
Many
years I’ve dwelled upon this instruction she gave to me “Choose from the broken
people”. What does it mean? What did it say about my father? Did I really care
about my father?
When
I met Subaru I did not plan on him being a mate yet, not when I was so young
and he was only 9 years old, no, I did that out of sheer cruelty.
Later
when I saw him at the train station I remembered the child and admired what a
beautiful youth he grew into.
That’s
when I began forming a plan to break him so that he will one day become my
mate, a broken man.
He
is broken now and if it wasn’t for this Battle I would have taken him by
now.
Instead
I sit and muse over my own destiny. I haven’t got very long before my time
comes.
I never
looked for a mate, not like mother did to produce me anyway, not like those who
seek someone to marry and build a family with.
I
looked for playthings, pets, hobbies and nothing more.
I
chose to venture the red light districts of Tokyo or the cities I traveled
to find my prey.
Most
of the whores weren’t broken but then again they, and I, knew I did not come there
to look for a proper mate.
Broken
people I could find amongst the drugged and those who supplied their chemical
needs. Many men and women fell to my net of lies and flattery, following the light
I shone at them only to discover it was leading them to a bottomless pit of
sakura petals and the tree’s imprisoning bark.
These
young lives, once so fresh and brilliant, now all gnawed into grey and misery
by their little addictions fascinated me to no end. They stole the medical
needles from my clinic and robbed my apartment like locusts but I did not mind;
their punishment would come when my interest in them was spent.
My
hunger was quenched in them, only to pop back up into my consciousness once
more and quite quickly at that.
I
looked for prey far more complicated, far worthier of my attention and efforts
than these residues of society.
****************
In
my Kamui I found exactly that sort of prey.
More
powerful than I will ever be, handsome, cunning, manipulative, a puzzle made of
so many pieces, a chameleon, a thing made completely by destiny; ‘Kamui’ was a
treasure to my hungry for intellect stimulation.
But
he was not broken. At all. In fact, he was so complete
the idea of catching him made me imagine pincers attempting to grab a ball, the
round shape easily squeezing out of the grab.
Despite
the constant beckoning glances he sent at me, despite the little teases,
‘Kamui’ was beyond my reach.
Of
course I could crush through my mother’s instructions and touch him but I
preferred not to. I preferred to sit back and watch, watch until he broke.
He
had to break eventually, such was destiny in this damned Battle; everyone must break
before they play their part to the fullest. Perhaps whatever sits up there is
as sadistic and cruel as me.
“Who
guarantees the sanity of God?” asked a character in some manga I flipped
through once. Despite my great denouncement of the character’s nature this
sentence touched a chord in me, who is doomed to fade away soon.
‘Kamui’
broke eventually, a small crack in his self confidence and vanity it was, but a
crack is the beginning of a break.
********************
I lay
back in a large leather sofa inside one of our lair’s rooms, leisurely sipping
a cup of tea the blond water master poured me.
This
water master, another intriguing character, his whole behavior says ‘don’t mind
me, I’m a fool’ but in honest there are infinitely more complex layers to him
than what he shows.
He
is so complete that scheming to break him will give me a headache and waste my
precious time.
Suddenly
‘Kamui’ walked, no, limped into the room in search of something. I counted the
wounds and cuts on his face and body, noted the hunched posture of a battered
and fatigued man, I guessed the somewhat dimmed and tired look in his eyes.
He
was broken.
He
fought the DoH’s Kamui and another Seal, as our dear computer girl bothered to display
on her monitor for us, and lost miserably.
Coming
up with some silly excuse to walk out of his defeat with his head high, he
managed to get out of the scene without too much shame burdening him.
The fact that he did indeed lose that fight and that
he lost it to one of the Seal’s least powerful fighters and their Kamui who, as
he kept bragging, did not yet fully achieve the fullness of his powers, must
have been a searing humiliation to our leader.
I forced
my vicious predator’s snarl into a kind smile and got off my couch to near him.
Hearing
my shoes click on the marble floor, my ‘Kamui’ who was consumed in rummaging through
our first aid cabinet, turned his weary eyes to me.
“Come
‘Kamui’” I purred like a kind uncle “allow me to bandage your wounds, I believe
you have some which are out of your reach”
He
glared at me in silence.
I
saw a nature program on one of the western nature channels. It showed an
elderly wolf trying to preserve his status amongst his pack’s members. When any
youngster or female tried to comfort this old fighter whose age began betraying
him, the wolf would growl at them and glare them away. The same glare I saw in
my ‘Kamui’s eyes now.
Brushing
the warning away, I gently guided him away from the cabinet and ordered him to
sit on the soft leather sofa. While he limped over there I resumed his
rummaging until I found all I needed.
I
folded his pants up, gently removing torn fabric edges whenever they clung to a
wound’s congealed blood and began attending the cuts and gapes in his flesh.
My
‘Kamui’ did nothing even as I pulled shrapnel out of his flesh making it’s wound bleed all over again.
As
I knelt at his feet patiently attending him I noted his eyes resting on me. I
could not look up for too long but I could feel how they stared at me vacantly,
a lost and untrusting child staring at an adult trying to help him. He was like
some war child resisting to show any gratitude towards his savior yet not
resisting the saving itself.
I
moved to his arms that were the most damaged in all his body that suffered most
of the damage.
Taking
up the white medical band aid I closed the gaping slash in his mid arm and the
one by his shoulder.
If
it wasn’t his bitter defeat it was probably the overwhelming pain of these
injuries that lead my ‘Kamui’ to be so gloomy.
My
testing time came when I treated the cut under my Kamui’s right eye. As I
gently cleaned the thin debris, dust and congealed blood from the cut itself my
‘Kamui’s eyes stared at me endlessly.
He
stared into my eyes, piercing me with his powerful demand for me to reveal my
true intensions in this sudden kindness.
I
brushed the look away, putting on my fiercest ‘concerned doctor’ appearance to
delude him.
By
the time I finished attending that wound the dark red eyes were no longer
suspicious but lost and weary again. My plan will work.
I
smiled at him and softened my voice to the lowest and most velvet-like quality
I could achieve “I need you to turn around now ‘Kamui’, I noted you have
several cuts on your back”
He
stared at me for a moment before obeying.
He turned around to kneel on the seat of the sofa, supporting himself
against it’s back with his strong arms.
I fought
to contain a large snarling smile from breaking on my face at the sight of such
complete naďve trust from my ‘Kamui’.
Savoring
the delightful tease of my fingers brushing his skin, I gently removed his
t-shirt from him. His strong back dotted by small debris, scratches and wounds,
broken by youth’s last acne spots, carved like a Roman statue, made my hunger
flare up like wildfire.
There
weren’t that many wounds on his back to be honest. A long but
shallow scratch, where the gap between his shirt and his jeans left his skin
bare and defenseless. A continuing gap from the injury on his right
shoulder, not much really.
I
turned him with his back to me because this is how I will catch him, this is how I will take him to be mine. My beautiful powerful prey, my graceful rebellious and broken
‘Kamui’.
Silly boy.
Even
a supreme predator should never walk injured into the territory of another
predator.
To
gain better access I too climbed on the sofa, it’s
large roomy seat supplying enough space for the both of us. I attended his
wounds with slow patience, testing my self control.
My
‘Kamui’ relaxed under the touch, shutting off his alarming senses and lowering
his guard. He is, after all, nothing but an 18 year old youth, his knowledge of
life is limited.
Done
with my healing job and free for my prey, I rubbed my hands silently to warm
them against the cold air blowing into our room from the computer girl’s refrigerator
of a cave.
I
brushed the tips of my fingers against his bare skin, and then pressed the rest
of my palms against the strong muscles. They flew up from between his shoulder
blades to his powerful shoulder muscles, flowing down his arms while avoiding
touch with the bandages I so loyally applied.
‘Kamui’s
head rose a little, a glance was shot at me from
across his shoulder. His eyes were focused and sharp again, so unlike mine in
their shroud of lust and hunger.
He
smiled at me, inviting me to move on while giving me a ‘you sneaky little
lecherous bastard’ glare.
Taking
the invitation happily I lean forward and plant a row of kisses on his wide
shoulders, running the tip of my tongue on the tanned skin with long wet
strokes.
He
moans and leans into the touch, away from the rest of my body.
I
wrap my arm across his waist, pinning his behinds to my demanding crotch and it’s pulsing bulge.
Wasting
no time, I quickly unbutton his trousers and slide my palm in to stoke his
growing arousal. He leans his head back on my shoulder offering me the length
of his neck.
I
nibble at the skin of his neck and bite down from time to time to make him hiss
between his pleased groans.
He
is exposed now as I peal layers of fabric off his round, inviting behinds. My
fingers stroke his soft skin, and then cup the fatty flesh, moving along the
crack between the cheeks and slide a finger into him.
I
am perfectly aware of my uncut fingernail as it scratches his insides.
I offer no soft pseudo-romantic act and he is
fully aware of it.
Still
he protests, attempting to pull away from me. But I have him trapped between my
locking embrace and the sofa’s back. He has no where to run.
I
take his hand and place it on my covered erection, first using it to stroke
myself with it, then hinting ‘Kamui’ to remove the berries between us.
He
snatches his hand away, nipping at my fingers on his shoulder. I lean by his ear,
licking then biting down a little harshly. “Do as I say ‘Kamui’” I whisper hoarsely.
He
fidgets on the leather and shoots an unsatisfied glare at me.
To
please him into submission I stroke his member yet again. Long strokes up and
down his shaft melt him back to cooperation.
His
hands are warm on the black fabric of my expensive suit, covered by a thin film
of sweat as they touch my skin. I notice the wet patch the other palm leaves on
the leather of the sofa he leans on. Is he nervous or excited? Whatever feeling
it is it only serves my purpose better.
I
give no warning before I penetrate him, nor do I
prepare him with any kind of lubricant to save him the soreness afterwards. He
claws at the thick black leather and muffles a scream into a choked groan. I
ignore it and thrust into him once more.
I
bite down gently into his left shoulder, running my tongue on the pinched flesh
between my teeth. Pumping his erection I make sure he will enjoy this as I do.
He
is hot and tight with pain and tension, it only serves against him as it moves
me closer and closer to my climax.
Suddenly
he loosens up and I am deprived of my great delight. Even in this disadvantage
he finds a way to pay me back for my misbehavior. It wouldn’t be half as fun if
it wasn’t for his small rebellion attempts for me to extinguish.
He
moans, leans forward and raises his hips to take me as deeply as he can. He
must still hurt despite his inviting behavior, which makes me wonder about my
‘Kamui’s joy.
I
allow a few muffled inevitable groans to escape my lips as my pleasure rises
near it’s edge. I move faster within him, stroking him
faster.
Our
bodies make soft bumping sounds at the end of every thrust. The leather creaks
under ‘Kamui’s fierce clutching.
My
leader whimpers between his throaty moans, covering my palm in hot liquid
dripping on the sofa when he comes.
I
have no mercy for him now that he beat me to the race. I pound him so hard he
muffles a few screams. I restrict nothing in my pursuit of climax.
I
slam into him one last time with my all swiping wave of pleasure and stay
there, leaning against him while I regain coherent thoughts from the haze of
hormones and lust.
‘Kamui’
leans against the back of the sofa, catching his breath as well from it’s rapid rhythm in pain and pleasure.
I
lean against his ear once more and whisper with a snarl “good boy”.
I detach
myself from him, cleaning my hand from his essence and fold myself back into my
underwear and pants.
He
dresses himself as well, shooting small cunning glances at me from time to
time.
“You
make me want to be wounded in battle more often” he tries to throw a witty
comment to stabilize this one time into a habit.
But
I have no need for him anymore now that I’m satisfied. Feeling hungry, I stroll
out of the room without even a glance at him.
I
leave him bewildered on the sofa, wondering why I suddenly ignore him after
what we just did.
I
guess this is what every silly over-romantic woman feels after a one night
stand won’t return her calls the morning after.
Smiling
to myself I leave our headquarters with a broken piece of ‘Kamui’ in my hand,
heading towards any good ice cream parlor still standing in Tokyo.
My
mother was right; the broken are ever so more fun to toy with.
(end)
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