Insanity : Akira’s side

A Togainu no Chi Fanfiction

Rating : M

Pairing : ShikiXAkira

Genre : Romance

Characters : Akira, Shiki

Preview : Their lust, fueled by death. Their love, covered in blood. Their insanity matched perfectly like two sides of a mirror.

——

There were many features of Shiki that Akira found endearing: Shiki’s skin, a color paler than the moon; Shiki’s hair, a shade darker a starless night; Shiki’s eyes, a crimson deeper than blood. Those eyes… Akira inwardly moaned when he recalled the moments those blazing irises bore lustfully into his entire being. Cover was unneeded because soon enough, they would pierce to every nook and canny of Akira’s body and exposed the deepest part to mercilessly toy with it.

Perhaps, what Akira loved most about Shiki was his unique scent. There was always a faint fragrance emitting from Shiki’s body whenever they engaged in pleasure. A fragile scent, tinged with the thick metallic smell of blood belonging to those fallen to his katana; a scent spoke of both passion and death; a red rose nourished and grew from corpse-filled soil. The scent complimented on Shiki’s contradictory nature : a ferocious predator underneath gorgeous skin; a terror in disguise of temptation; intense pain coated in burning pleasure and passion intertwined with demise. To others, the smell of blood was disgustingly terrifying; to Akira, it was a perfume more fragrant than roses’, his perfect aphrodisiac. To others, Shiki was devil incarnate, a cruel tyrant who compelled them to choose between submittal and a painful death; to Akira, a beautiful master to whom his everything, soul, body, heart, belonged. Strangely, in this possessiveness of Shiki that Akira found contentedness and pleasure. And maybe even love.

Gently, Akira rubbed the bite mark on his shoulder. It was Shiki’s, a lovely vestige of their heated lovemaking the night before. The wound did not bleed much since it was rather shallow; still, it stung. The pain was tolerable, Akira reflected, and the ecstasy it offered was a thousand times sweeter.

It was neither the first nor the last time Shiki intentionally left some marks on Akira’s body. A bite or two, a cut or a bruise. Most of the times, they bled but never would they be deep enough to leave permanent scars on Akira’s flawless skin. When it came to sex, it seemed that Shiki possessed a fetish of wounding his partner as a way to declare his ownership. It was a weird method to express one’s affection, Akira often thought. But again, ordinary was not expected from the mighty Il-re. Had Shiki been all nice, gentle and caring instead of merciless and violent, would he have captivated Akira’s heart and soul ? Akira knew better than anybody that his former self, the proud, invincible king of Bl@ster was not moved by conventional elements as tenderness or care.  Perhaps, Shiki had been right when he had spoken the truth of Akira’s heart : deep down, Akira craved for being put under dominion and restraint. With his unwavering confidence and strength, Shiki had succeeded in breaking through Akira’s apathetic façade to light up the passionate flame inside of him. As a result, the present Akira was more than willing to comply with his every desires.

Akira’s lips curved into an exulted grin. He himself was not that obedient as a ‘pet’. There were times that he would allow his rebellious side to openly taunt his ‘master’. The night before was a perfect example. As Shiki bit his shoulder in a surge of pleasure coursing through his being, Akira also responded with equal force, if not, stronger. His nails dug into Shiki’s back almost painfully, drawing long, bloody trails on Shiki’s already scarred skin. Somewhere in the middle of paintings and moans, Akira could make out a soft groan escaping Shiki’s lips when he mimicked Shiki’s marking behavior. The sound was erotically pleasant to the ears; Akira mentally made a note to remind himself of this wonderful discovery.

People viewed Shiki as a symbol of pure, primal terror. In this chaos called Toshima, the strong lived, the weak died. The rule was brutally simple. As the strongest man, Shiki rose to the top and became the king of this lawless town. It was natural for the weak to be dominated by the strong. Those living in Toshima were not really bright, yet they were smart enough to choose life over death. No matter how much they despised, hated and longed for Shiki’s destruction, they would just lower their heads to king and obey his every orders.

A strict relationship between the lord and his servants, nothing more.

A loyalty forced upon them by strength and fear. There was no sense of honor, no compassion, no respect.

Perhaps it was because others thought of Shiki as nothing but madness and horror that Akira could feel the specialty of his existence toward Shiki. In this vast sea of people, he was the only one who did not tremble when looking in Shiki’s red eyes, the only one who could disobey the king and was not punished, the only one who had touched the profound depth of Shiki’s soul, the only one who understood and loved Shiki wholeheartedly. Those other than himself neither desired nor deserved Shiki’s attention. Akira wanted to remain the sole subject of the lust burning in Shiki’s crimson orbs. Just as his entire being belonged to Shiki, Shiki’s everything was also his possession.

As long as he had Shiki, he would wish for nothing else.

As Akira laid flat on the luscious bed, his lips formed a pout. Much to his detest, Shiki only stayed with him when the night fell and as soon as the sun rose, he departed, leaving Akira alone to chew on his solitary and boredom. The bed was soft and comfortable beneath his back but what benefit could it bring if Shiki was not here to pin him against the mattress ? The servants were always ready to do his biddings but they were utterly useless when it came to entertainment. What he truly wanted, truly needed, none could offer.

What Akira wanted now a something to kill the time while waiting for Shiki to come back from his work. And he knew just where to find it, his ‘entertainment’.

In this castle, eyes followed him everywhere he went, eyes brimming with desire. There were many who secretly gazed at him with yearning, with need and Akira knew it. It profoundly disgusted him, the ignominy of craving for something completely out of their reach. There was not a single subordinate who did not know Akira was Shiki’s, laying their hands on the king’s treasure could only lead to execution. Even so, to Akira’s invitation none of them refused. Blindly, they succumbed to Akira’s seduction, a poisonous forbidden fruit despite its enchantingly alluring fragrance, like pitiful insects being lured by the Venus flytrap’s attraction. Some even went so far as to promise to ‘free’ Akira from Shiki’s brutality. Whether it was plain pity for Akira’s ‘imprisonment’ or simply a way to solace their bruised egos by pretending to extend their hands to a person they deemed as weaker, more vulnerable than them, Akira knew not. Provided that they could really ‘save’ him from Shiki, what would they do to him ? Whenever this thought flashed his mind, Akira could not help but letting a dry chuckle. It was no doubt they would just replace Shiki’s place as his owner. The ‘freedom’ they promised him, after all, was no difference from Akira’s sugar-coated words of seduction. An outrageous lie, a bait to lure him in, to take advantage of his body, nothing else. Even when their throats were slashed open by Shiki’s katana, they were still unable to see the truth that they had fallen right into Akira’s trap, that they were merely a toy for him to play in his boredom.

How pleasant it was, the scent tinged with blood.

Shiki, though possessing a breathtaking beauty, was a predator in nature, a predator that was most ravishing when tearing up his preys. It was strictly because of this menacing aura of Shiki when he nonchalantly took lives that Akira was hopelessly bound to this man. Peace and tenderness were foreign to him, it was violence and death that made up Shiki’s deadly charms.

Whose blood should he drench Shiki with today ?

When Akira was idly passing the hall, he spotted that boy. Normally, Akira would not lay his eyes on a person so obscure. A face littered with freckles, a slightly hunched posture, there was nothing special about this boy who had recently been employed to the castle as a guard. Still, as soon as Akira caught sight of him, a sudden surge of heat rose from the bottom of his heart, the heat of profound jealousy.

Different from others, this boy was not afraid of Shiki. In contrast of fear, it was a kind of emotions Akira did not want to acknowledge when he caught the boy gazing at Shiki from time to time. It was admiration, respect and perhaps even affection. What fueled Akira’s hatred for this boy was that Shiki himself had complimented on his obedience once or twice. It was hard for Akira to admit, yet the boy, on some levels, had succeeded in earning Shiki’s attention, the attention that should belong to him only.

Like a tiger, Akira was not pleased when someone invaded his territory. His possessiveness was not any less intense than Shiki’s.

A wicked smile on his lips as Akira contemplated his plan.

The boy was hopelessly naïve and dumb against Akira’s seduction. Just the sight of Akira’s lean, smooth chest peeking out from his thin shirt was enough to make him blush furiously. It only took few whispers, a few caresses for all the blood to rush to his face. And somewhere else. As Akira’s skillful hands roamed over his suited form, his hot breaths playfully tickled his sensitive earlobes, the boy, Ryunosuke was his name, wholeheartedly succumbed to the fatal temptation. His feet blindly followed Akira’s lead to the sleeping chamber and his mind went blank from raging desire, Ryunosuke completely forgot about the thoughtful old chef’s advice when he had first set food into this castle.

“The lord keeps a treasure in his chamber. If you still value your life, never touch it, never even look at it; stay as far from it as you can.”

Amused, he watched another of his prey pathetically fall into his trap. In this game, Akira was no longer Shiki’s pet; he was a beast, a beast which never failed to catch his desired prey.

”You sure got guts, kid, to touch your master’s property.”

The chef’s words echoed in his ears as he felt the frigid edge of his lord’s katana against his Adam’s apple. When he came to realize the fatality of his fault, it was too late. Blood seemed to have evaporated from his body when he looked into those crimson irises of his lord.

He had never been afraid of this man. In contrast of fear, his heart was flooded with admiration, respect, even affection.

But now, he truly tasted the bitterness of horror.

His lord was not angel. He was demon.

Akira sat nonchalantly on the tangled sheet of the luscious bed, the cold, indifferent smile never left his lips as he watched the boy, his poor victim trembling, begging for his life. It was of no avail; soon enough Shiki’s katana would decapitate him and his corpse would join the mountain of rotten flesh underneath this castle.

Truly, this chamber had witnessed too much of its owners’ cruelty.

Akira’s porcelain arms intertwined around Shiki’s neck, his lips starved for a deep, burning kiss.

“Honestly, you have never thought about being loyal to me ?”

Shiki’s reprimand leaked between hot breaths, absent of the severity it should have had. That Akira played with some man while he was not around was not something new to Shiki.

“It was your fault for leaving me unoccupied. Without you, it was boring as hell.”

His breaths were reduced to short, quickened pants; Akira moaned at the damp sensation of Shiki’s tongue teasing the tender flesh of his neck.

“For your recreation, a life was wasted.”

“You pitied him ?” Akira smirked. “Weren’t you the one who killed him ?”

“Weren’t you the cause of his death ?” In respond to that smirk, Shiki bit down on the flesh, hard enough to draw fresh, hot blood.

“I hate the way he looked at you, Shiki. Only I can look at you without any reservation.”

“So, you’re jealous when someone tries to get your master’s attention ?”

In answer to Shiki’s taunt Akira was silent; his hands were too busy freeing Shiki from his complicated clothing.

“You don’t mind that corpse ?”

“Why should I ? That’s just another small fry you cut down. Let him watch us. At least he’ll learn his lesson on the way to hell.”

Shiki smiled at the blatant atrocity of Akira’s words. Though blessed with a fair appearance, his twisted personality was more dangerous than the most bloodthirsty monster.

As soon as Akira finished his job, Shiki’s strong arms immediately pushed him down the mattress. His fingertips, cool as ice, traced Akira’s lips.

For a pet, you’re quite rebellious.”

Their passion heated up while the body on the floor grew colder with each passing minute.

Their lust, fueled by death. Their love, covered in blood.

End.

Note : The first part of this story is finished. This time, it is based on Shiki’s 3rd ending in which Shiki became the lord of Toshima and Akira became, literally, his lustful ‘mistress’ who would seduce any men while Shiki was out. When I first came across this ending, its weirdness struck me hard; especially Akira. This Akira was entirely different from the original Akira, like he had been turned into another person. It intrigued me what had changed him so. Besides, it amused me terribly how calmly Shiki acted toward Akira’s behavior. It seemed to me that both of them were not in their right minds. Nevertheless, it was an interesting ending; I enjoyed it as much as I did with ‘military’ ending and the true ending.

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