Series: Vampire Knight Guilty (post-series)
Word Count: 6,501
Characters: Zero/Yuki with some undercurrents of Kaname/Yuki
Summary: She’s broken the rules of the game—so why shouldn’t he?
Warnings: angst, somewhat dark themes, some bloodplay among other sexual situations.
Notes: After we watched Vampire Knight together, Jeremy came to the conclusion that I should write something to rectify what happened (or rather, what didn’t happen) between Yuki and Zero. I don’t know if I really made things worse or better. XD Enjoy!
For over a year now, their game had been the same (just this): She would always be one step ahead of him, and he would always be one step behind her.
Perhaps it was because both of them knew what would happen if she were to slow down enough to let him catch up. Perhaps neither of them knew what would happen if he were to speed up just enough to capture her. Whether it was the known or the unknown that kept them in this now-familiar deadly (and deceptive and disturbing and delightful) tango, Zero didn’t claim to know or care.
If this game of cat-and-mouse was the only way he could be close to her, then so be it. He’d resigned himself to this fate the moment that she’d decided to leave the grounds with Kaname.
As he headed up the stairs to his own room, he could smell her; she’d visited recently. Perhaps she’d even said hello to the man that had raised her as his own for a decade. Of course, she did come and see Kaien from time to time, but she was always careful to avoid being within Zero’s line of sight… Or perhaps it was Zero himself who was always careful to avoid her presence, despite the promise he’d made to her on the day that she’d drank from him in order to prove what Zero had already known. He hadn’t needed proof: Yuki had become a vampire.
No, she hadn’t become a vampire. Her vampire self had only been awakened.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, Zero continued walking, his heart pounding faster with every step he took, for as he drew closer to his room, her scent became stronger. He paused outside of his door, inhaling deeply before gripping the doorknob with a trembling hand and turning it clockwise.
He did not see her when he stepped inside and shut the door behind himself, but the scent of her was strongest here.
The sheets on his bed were rumpled now, whereas they hadn’t been when he’d exited the room that morning. She’d been here.
He touched the spot where it was obvious that she’d lain, surprised to find that it was still warm. She’d been here recently.
… No, that wasn’t right, was it?
A soft sound from behind him – one that would have been inaudible to human ears but was detected by his own – alerted him that his suspicions were indeed correct.
She was still here.
This was not part of their game. She wasn’t supposed to do this.
“You’ve broken the rules,” Zero informed her without turning around. His voice was surprisingly steady and cold, distant. “You’re supposed to stay ahead of me. You said you’d run from me; you never said that you would stop running.”
“You vowed that you would catch me one day,” Yuki replied, her voice quiet, and Zero could have sworn that there was the slightest hint of desperation buried beneath the layers of tension and expectancy.
“I did,” Zero agreed smoothly, and now he did turn to face her. She met his gaze, and there was no question that she’d done this on purpose: she’d had no intentions of staying just out of reach this time. “Don’t you remember what I said--”
“I remember,” she interjected, her voice was stronger, less quiet. “I remember quite well what you said on that day.”
Zero clenched his fists and took a step forward. She did not step back. “Then what the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, and when she didn’t answer him, he struck as fluidly as water and as quickly as lightning, closing the distance between them in less than a millisecond.
She didn’t play the role of the scared mouse very well (she never had; she’d always been stubborn and relentless). She didn’t even blink when she found the barrel of Bloody Rose pointed at her chest, aimed at her heart.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again, and his finger was on the trigger, and she still stood her ground. She did not back away. Her gaze did not waver.
Her eyes remained locked on his even as she dodged his question. “You’ve caught me.” Her voice was barely above that of a whisper now, and even though her bottom lip trembled, her voice did not. “You’ve caught me, Zero. So now, what will you do?”
He discovered (in practice now instead of just in theory) that he could not pull the trigger. His lack of resolve proved to be both a curse and a blessing—his redemption and his downfall.
“What would you have me do?” he asked of her, though the question was in truth rhetorical. Bloody Rose clattered to the floor and his arms were around her in the next instant; he was crushing her to himself before he could allow her time enough to draw breath and answer him. “Why are you here? What is it that you want?”
If he sounded angry, it was because he was. He was angry with her for breaking the rules. He was angry with himself for not being able to pull that damn trigger. He was angry with himself for threatening to pull the trigger. He was angry at that bastard Kaname for caring about her in the same manner that he himself cared about her. He was angry with Yuki for making the decision that had torn them apart.
(She’d chosen Kaname, not him.)
“I’ve missed you,” she told him, and her voice wavered, teetering on the precipice of yet another unknown. Her emotion sliced through him, gutting him, and he knew at once that the mouse would be the victor today.
He said her name once. Twice. Pulled her impossibly closer even though he knew it must have already been difficult to breathe. “This isn’t how--”
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice as soothing as that of a lullaby to a small child, which meant that Zero must have sounded nearly half-crazed. Or perhaps he could have been classified as entirely insane at this point. “I hadn’t planned all of this… I just… I had to. Even if you had intended to kill me. I had to, for just a moment….” She trailed off, and he did not ask her for further explanation.
She hadn’t planned this. But how did that saying go? Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans?
(She’d bent and broken the rules already. It was up to him to either put the pieces of their broken, jagged puzzle back together, or to make the bigger picture even more skewed and unrecognizable… what were a few more cracks to a fragile pane that already had ten thousand?)
Their time to play pretend had passed. At least, for now.
He drew back just enough to look down at her, noting the near-sallow look to her features: her eyes were not as bright, her skin even paler than it should have been, save for the slightly dark circles beneath her eyes. Her lips were a pale pink.
Still, she was resplendent. Human or vampire, Yuki would always be beautiful to him.
“You have not been feeding as you should.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. His gaze hardened as his voice did. “Has he not been taking care of that for you?”
She glanced away. “The fault is my own, not his.” Even if that were true, the fact that she was protecting Kaname irked Zero.
Without taking time to think about the consequences of what he was about to do (there was no time to think, really—he cold grab onto this moment and deal with the repercussions later, or he could let all of this go, and always wonder ‘what if?’), he pressed her face against the right side of his neck. What lay beneath the tissues there was one of his carotid arteries, and one of his jugular veins.
“Drink,” he commanded.
She gasped, obviously shocked at what he was ordering her to do, and he felt her shake her head, her long chocolate-colored hair tickling his skin. “I can’t.”
“Don’t feed me that bullshit, Yuki,” Zero snarled. “You’ve done it before. You can do it again. I can feel your hunger.”
Again, she shook her head. Obstinate as ever—but that was one of her many characteristics that had drawn him to her in the first place. “That was to prove to you that I had become a vampire. There is no purpose in this, Zero. I can’t--”
“You can, because I am telling you to,” he replied. He would not back down from this. In this matter, she would have to be the one to fold. “Drink.”
She was utterly tense for a moment, no doubt battling with herself over what she should do—whether she should continue to try to argue with him, or give in and do as he’d told her. However, Zero wasn’t really giving her a true option here, was he?
Within the span of a heartbeat she surrendered, lips parting, fangs sinking into Zero’s skin. He shuddered for a thousand reasons that he didn’t bother to try to catalogue, though he found it odd that none of those reasons were due to disgust.
Despite the fact that Yuki was – without a doubt – a Pureblood vampire, despite the fact that she was currently taking deep draws from his vein, tonight… she was only the Yuki that he’d fallen in love with. For the time being, differences would be set aside.
Only for a little while, and then…
‘And then’ was not something that he wanted to think about, so he dismissed it from his mind and simply held onto her while she fed. “Take all you need,” he murmured, aware that it was inappropriate to say such a thing to her, but they’d already crossed that invisible line a dozen times within the span of a few moments—what difference would this make? By the end of the evening, Zero was almost certain that their line drawn in the sand would be naught but a blur.
She eventually drew back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes downcast, and there was the tiniest droplet of blood at the corner of her mouth. Again, without thinking (not the time or place for it), Zero leaned down and flicked his tongue against the edge of her lips, catching that single drop and swallowing it. It was a thoughtless action, perhaps a stupid one, most definitely a bold one.
It was just a shame that he could be bold with her here and now, in this fleeting moment; it was a shame that he couldn’t have been this way with her before. It was a shame that he’d been a coward for so long.
But that was neither here nor there, and instead of wallowing in his own self-loathing, he chose to focus on the little gasp that she made, and the way that she gazed up at him, startled and uncertain and perhaps even afraid. Perhaps even… allured.
She licked at her own lips then, and with an elegant tilt of her head, she offered him the unexpected. “If you want….”
Yuki didn’t have to finish. She didn’t have to, because Zero knew perfectly well what she meant. She was offering her blood to him—she was offering an exchange. One which he knew that he should not indulge in. He no longer needed blood from a living being (be it human or vampire) to keep him from spiraling downward into madness and becoming a Level E. He could live off of the blood tablets now just fine.
… But this really wasn’t about sustenance, was it?
His gaze locked on the pulse points in her neck, and he swallowed hard. Another thing that hadn’t changed even after all that had transpired between them was this: He still yearned for her; he positively ached for her. He desired her like a drowning man desired air, like a starving man desired food, like a guilt-ridden sinner desired salvation, like a thirsting man desired water.
It wasn’t just her blood that he wanted, either. It was never about just blood. He wanted her kind smile; he wanted her sweet gaze; he wanted her irresistible lips and her soft hands and her warmth. He wanted her naked and aching just as he was, thighs spread and….
He wanted her, period. That had remained unchanged.
He accepted her invitation (which he could and yet couldn’t have denied) and he dipped his head and struck. She released a small sound when his fangs pierced her skin, and then her fingers were tangling in his hair, holding him in place.
As he drank from her, he knew what she’d told him was true: She’d missed him. Her feelings for Kaname had not waned, but her feelings for Zero himself had not dissipated, either. If anything, they had been magnified, and the name on her lips at this moment was his, not Kaname’s.
His, his, his.
A startling revelation, indeed.
Abruptly, he pulled away from her neck. She seemed confused, but he would make certain that things would become very clear in a very short period of time.
He leaned down again, only with a different purpose in mind this time. His aim was not her neck, but her mouth, and he pressed his lips gently to hers, giving her the opportunity to back away if she chose to do so.
However, backing away was not what she chose to do. She allowed the kiss, whimpering when he grazed her bottom lip with his teeth. He ignored the voice in his head that demanded to know what the hell he was doing, and then shortly thereafter informed that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Perhaps his mind did not know what he was doing, but his heart and his body certainly seemed to know.
Zero deepened the kiss after he both felt and heard her moan, and her lips parted, granting him access. He greedily took what she gave, fully exploring every part of her mouth. He even dared to dart his tongue over her fangs (a little detour) before he brushed his tongue against hers, and he found the mechanics of this to be quite simple: slick flesh writhing against slick flesh. The fact that she was not pulling away and was kissing him back with a fervor that matched his own sent heat flooding through his bloodstream.
She was clinging to him now like she was having a difficult time keeping herself upright; she was holding onto him like he was her lifeline, even though he knew that he wasn’t (couldn’t be). Nevertheless, he tightened his hold on her, and he only pulled away from her mouth in order to draw breath.
In the next moment, he was attacking her neck once more, licking where he’d just bitten, scattering butterfly kisses along sensitive skin, and scraping his fangs along the large tendon at the side of her neck.
The half-choked moans and the soft whimpers that she made were encouragements of the utmost dangerous sort—Zero’s body responded to them, and he answered her with sounds of his own: with hisses and groans and quiet snarls of possessiveness (which shouldn’t have been the case for she was not his, was she?).
Did she know what she was getting herself into? Did he know what he was getting himself into? At any rate, Zero had a fairly good idea of what direction they were heading in right now, and even though nearly every single part of him was screaming at him to not stop, his one remaining rational brain cell demanded that he pause just long enough to….
Breathing heavily, arms tight around her waist, he asked, “Was this your intention?”
She gazed at him with eyes that were already glazed over, and shook her head. “I didn’t think this would… but I--”
“If you want to go,” he interrupted, voice a low growl, “I suggest you do so now. If you want this to stop--”
“I don’t want to go.” This time, it was she who interrupted him. “I don’t want to stop.”
And this time, it was her lips that all but crashed against his, her tongue that pushed past his lips, her hands that tugged him closer.
Rationality flew out the window at that point, and they stumbled to the bed, hands and mouths wandering. It was a wonder how they managed to make it to the bed without tearing off any clothing (well, at least Zero thought it was quite a feat) and without tripping over their own feet (Yuki had never been terribly graceful as a human—why should that have changed now that she was a vampire?).
Yuki reached for his shirt but he shook his head, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head as he leaned over her, nuzzling at her clothed breasts, noting how he could feel her nipples grow taut even through the material of her bra and her shirt.
“Zero,” she whispered, “why won’t you let me—?”
He squeezed her wrists harder in reply—perhaps there would be bruises, but the noise she made wasn’t one of pain, and she only moaned louder when he kissed each of her breasts. He was eager for the moment when she would be naked beneath him, but that would happen in due time. For now, he appreciated the way her chest heaved as he teased her, and he appreciated the way her back arched for him, as if she were demanding more attention.
“I want you to do something for me Yuki,” he murmured, before swiping his tongue along the smooth column of her throat. “I want you to keep your arms just like that. I want you to let me do the touching for the time being. Can you do that for me?”
Even though he’d voiced a question, he’d left no room for argument. He’d issued a double-command that paraded as an inquiry, and both of them knew perfectly well that right now, he would not take no for an answer—not in regards to this. Not when he wanted so badly to touch and to kiss her everywhere.
He wondered, then, if it was possible to be both selfish and selfless all at once.
“I can,” she replied, lashes fluttering, and he could hear the yearning in her voice (the need), and it was that – almost more than anything else – that spurred him on.
When Zero was certain that Yuki would leave her arms positioned as they were, he released her wrists—and to her credit, she remained perfectly still, save for the steady rise and fall of her chest.
He noted for the first time tonight that she wore a deep blue blouse and a matching knee-length skirt. The blouse was decorated with little silver buttons (which were somewhat difficult to deal with, he discovered, and he had to resist the urge to simply rip them off) and elegant silver swirls. The skirt was without buttons, but not without swirls—he would save it for later, however. One thing at a time.
With her blouse now undone, Zero ran his hands along the soft, smooth skin of Yuki’s belly. She trembled even at that and made a noise low in her throat that caused his own breath to still and then stutter before being released as a possessive (and no he didn’t have the right but he didn’t really care) growl.
He was eternally grateful that her bra had a clasp at the front, and that undoing said clasp wasn’t akin to some sort of delicate surgery. Once it was out of the way, he cupped her breasts and gently squeezed, brushing his thumbs over her nipples and watching her squirm beneath his ministrations.
“I thought you were going to be still?” The question was a purr. He didn’t really expect an answer, and when she gave him a look that was nearly pleading, he dipped his head and teased her further, licking the valley between her breasts.
She kept her arms above her head (exactly where he’d placed them), though she dug her nails into her palms until her knuckles were white, and when her grip relaxed, Zero noted that there were four crescent marks on each of her palms. He wanted to kiss them but he resisted, focusing instead on the part of her body that he’d just bared to his eyes and his hands and his mouth.
He circled one nipple with his tongue before gently biting down on the sensitive skin surrounding it. She released a hiss, and he drew the small nub of flesh past his parted lips, suckling lightly on it, and then harder when she moaned his name.
Zero gave the same treatment to her other nipple before drawing back and blowing cool air on moistened skin. She shivered and he couldn’t help but discreetly smile. When he glanced at her face again, he noted that she was panting and she was digging her nails into her palms again. Her cheeks were flushed and her lashes were half lowered.
She was quite a sight to behold, and in that moment, Zero had a precarious – though fleeting – notion: Mine.
He forced himself to derail that particular train of thought, and then had to redirect his thought processes once more when he realized he was heading into the depressing reality that this stolen moment of sanctuary was as transient as the calm before the storm.
Zero didn’t realize his eyes were closed until he opened them when Yuki said his name again, though out of concern this time. That same worry was in her eyes, but there was understanding as well, and just a hint of sadness. He didn’t want any of that, not tonight. This was not the time for sorrows and regrets and uncertainties.
He wanted that heat in her eyes again.
She reached out with one hand as if to touch his cheek but he stopped her with a rough: “Weren’t you supposed to keep your arms still? I didn’t tell you that you could move them yet, Yuki.”
She paused then, and he watched as concern morphed into confusion, and then into something more carnal, and yes—that was what Zero wanted to see.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she let her arm fall back to its original position. Silence and stillness stretched between them for a moment or two, and then Zero slid his hands to her skirt, fingers finding the well-hidden zipper at her left hip.
“Shall I continue now?” he asked her, and then rephrased the question: “Do you want me to continue now?”
She bit her lip and she nodded, and he knew that she did—knew because of that hungry look in her eyes, and knew because of the way her hips shifted restlessly against his hands. He did not need any further confirmation, but need and </i>want</i> are sometimes not the same things.
“You have to do better than that,” he informed, sliding the zipper down a little over half-an-inch, but no further. “You have to tell me, Yuki.”
Her reply was only one word, but it was the word that he wanted to hear. It was spoken in a husky tone and it sent lust slip-sliding down his spine, gliding inbetween his vertebrae: “Yes.”
He unzipped her skirt the rest of the way without further pause, and he was surprised and delighted at how still she remained while he did so, waiting for his instruction.
She shifted her hips and her legs when and how he told her to so that he could rid her of the garment entirely, which left her clad in only her panties (nevermind that her blouse and her bra were semi-hanging off of her shoulders—he would take care of that later).
Her panties were the same dark blue as her skirt and her blouse and her bra, though at the juncture of her thighs, the blue was even deeper in color, like the midnight sky. He knew the cause of it; he knew that it was evidence of her desire, and the sight of it made him release a guttural sound.
Next, he inhaled deeply, and oh, he liked that even better: her scent was simultaneously sweet and spicy and simply her, and his own need threatened to get the better of him. He could rip the damn things off, but no….
“I can smell you from here,” he hissed, and she blushed as if embarrassed, which made the heat inside of his lower belly twist and curl and tighten.
He brushed two of his fingers over that particular area, gathering some of that wetness on them (and paying attention to the way she cried out and arched against him at the slightest touch there) and then bringing those fingers to his lips.
She tasted even better than she smelled. He stared at her as he licked and sucked on his fingers, tasting her indirectly, and she stared right back, lips half-parted and kiss-swollen, her pink tongue darting out to swipe over her bottom lip.
He didn’t bother to attempt fighting the urge to taste her properly. He tugged roughly at her panties, urging her to lift her hips, and when she did, he yanked them down her perfect hips and her slim legs and he let them fall to the floor to join her skirt.
She was beautifully bare before him now, and he subconsciously licked his lips before leaning down and nuzzling at each of her thighs. The urge to mark her here as well was likewise irresistible—he zoned in on her femoral vein in one thigh and then the other, drinking deeply from her and relishing the way she moaned and writhed beneath them, her legs falling open even more.
Zero drew back and admired the puncture marks, knowing that they would close and fade before she left, but they were there now, and now was what mattered, because it was all that they had.
He licked at the creases where upper thigh met lower pelvis and she shuddered beneath him. When he kissed the top of her mound, she released a half-moaned “please”, and he gave in to her and to himself (to both of their wants), sliding his body further down so that he could press his tongue between her nether lips and swipe it upwards in one smooth and deliberately slow stroke.
He realized that her pleasure was at its greatest when his tongue was on that sensitive nub of flesh at the top of her lips, and that was what he focused on, closing his lips around that part of her and alternating between sucking on it and flicking his tongue against it.
He realized somewhere along the line that her skin was growing hotter and that she was becoming wetter, and she was rocking her hips against him. She had moved her hands (without his permission, but he decided to not call her on it, for they were both focused on something else entirely) and they were now tangled in his hair, holding him to her.
What fell from her lips was a steady mantra of “Pleasepleaseplease,” and he upped the ante, flicking his tongue faster against her, holding onto her hips as she writhed and tugged on his hair and her mantra became his name.
He felt her tense all over then, and some small part of him was worried that he’d done something wrong, but instinct told him that that was not the case, and he continued, his tongue moving faster still against her body until she wailed and her body jerked and then relaxed of its own accord.
She trembled in the aftershocks of her orgasm, the muscles of her lower belly undulating beneath her skin—tightening and releasing just as her whole body had done at the pinnacle of her pleasure.
He drew back to take her in fully, licking the remainder of her taste from his lips as his eyes roved greedily over her body. Her eyes were half-lidded and her cheeks were now even rosier. There was a droplet of blood on her lower lip where she’d bitten through yielding tissue, no doubt. Her chest was heaving, nipples perked. He noticed, too, that she was still trembling minutely.
His gaze roamed further downwards, to her hips and what lay beneath them. Her sex was swollen and obviously still very ready for him even though she’d just had an orgasm (and he would not deny her, but he just wanted a moment more… just a moment more to look at her, to see her like this—beautiful and defenseless and open and real and here with him and not with her precious ‘elder brother’).
Yuki’s inner thighs glistened with a mixture of her blood (from where he’d bitten her), her arousal, and his saliva, and now those thighs were moving again like she was restless and impatient.
He fit his hips between her thighs as he leaned over her, letting her feel his clothed erection. She automatically gasped and arched her hips, her hands moving from his hair to his shoulders, fingers gripping at the cloth and tugging.
He pressed his lips to hers, lapping at the blood, letting her draw his tongue into her mouth and suck hungrily as their hips moved together, and he couldn’t wait… except only he could and he did, but only because he forced himself to do just that.
“What shall I do with you now, Yuki?” he murmured against her lips, and even though he had a good idea of what her answer would be (and even though he knew what he wanted to do with her and what he would do with her), he wanted to hear it anyway.
Her eyes darkened, and her fingers tightened on his shirt. “Take me,” she said, all at once imploring and demanding, her hips working in sync with her words to spur him along, to drive him to finish this, to send them spiraling into finally and finality.
His answer was nothing more than what it should have been: an unspoken yes that was nonetheless heard in the rustle of clothing as he all but tore the garments from himself, his haste making him rough and uncaring. It was heard also in the slight squeak of the mattress as it shifted again beneath them, and as he positioned her so that she was flat on her belly, hips just slightly raised.
Only then did he fully remove her blouse and her bra. Only then did he take pleasure in kissing and nipping along the line of her spine. Only then did he lick that delectable dip in her lower back, delighting in the way she groaned and arched and pressed.
His fingers found her (slick and hot) before his length did, and he pushed two of them inside, probing, scissoring, thrusting. She showed no signs of discomfort, only signs of need and want, and he removed his fingers within moments, positioning himself behind her and pressing into her slowly, with care.
He encountered no resistance, no fragile barrier, and he was equal parts disappointed and relieved: Kaname had stripped that honor from him, but had also saved him from hurting her. It was a win-lose situation at its best, but he really had no right to voice complaint.
The question left his lips before he could stop it, though: “Was he gentle with you?”
She gave a muffled ‘yes’, and he nodded once in affirmation. His desire to tear Kaname limb from limb for taking what should have been his was buffered only by the fact that the other male had been gentle in the taking.
And since Kaname had been gentle, well, that meant that Zero didn’t really have to be, did he?
He sank into her fully before pulling back – almost all of the way out, just leaving the tip of himself inside of her – and slamming into her, groaning as he did so. The sound that she made echoed his, and it was not one of pain.
Zero gripped her hips firmly, and she was hot, all around him and beneath him, her hips pressing back to meet his, to demand more.
More was what he gave her, hips drawing back and surging forward again and again, and he didn’t bother to pace himself, because she needed this and he needed this, needed this to be just like it was—pleasurable (beyond measure) and more than a little rough. She did not protest it, and so he did not slow down or gentle his thrusts into her.
Before he could become entirely lost in their non-rhythm, he pulled back and out of her. Her sound of protest did not give him pause. He merely flipped her over so that she was on her back and he slammed into her again, hard and hungry and demanding, fangs sinking once more into the flesh of her throat and taking from her there as well.
It was so much better this way, he realized, because now her mouth was close to his ear and her legs were wrapped around him, the balls of her heels digging into the small of his back. Her arms were wrapped around him too, nails raking down his back—she was leaving angry red marks of her own, and he loved that, too.
Faster and harder. He moved against her and inside of her, and she matched him thrust for erratic thrust, keening and moaning and grinding and scratching and panting. He was the taker and she was the giver, and yet he was also the giver and she was also the taker. It was a mutual exchange, erotic and wrong and right and ugly and beautiful. Sinister and sweet and somehow tender in spite of all of its roughness.
He faltered when he felt her fangs sink into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and when he felt her nails dig into his skin, but then he was growling and shoving into her even harder, and he knew it had to be at least a little painful for her, but she didn’t show it if it was; she only relented to him—she was open and wet and tight and willing, and that was what mattered; that would be what did him in.
He pulled back from her throat, and he huskily whispered her name against her ear. “Come for me again,” he said, and he felt her fangs leave him, heard her swallow and hiss and felt her arch and writhe and tighten.
Her cry was hoarse, and the way she tightened around him again and again nearly sent him over the edge right along with her, but he stayed still for her; he held her hips down even as she fought against the restraint. He held her down and he watched her and he felt her and just looking at her was almost enough to make him come unglued.
Suddenly, she went limp and boneless, and her panting was loud in his ears. “Your… turn,” she said, and it was breathless, but he understood all the same. “Come.”
It didn’t take him long at all, after that. Before he truly realized what was happening, somewhere between another advance (or perhaps a retreat), he was coming, spilling inside of her with a not-so-quiet cry of his own, and when he all but collapsed on top of her afterwards, he could have sworn that she released a soft sigh of contentment.
He held her tightly, and she held onto him just as tightly as their breathing evened out, returning to something more akin to normal. He felt like his heart was still racing, however; perhaps it was due to the inevitability of what was about to happen.
They stayed that way for what could have been seconds or minutes or hours—it wasn’t long enough. He wanted to bask forever in what-should-have been (the two of them); wanted what-should-have-been to be what was.
But this moment of serenity was naught but a haphazardly-constructed lie, an unavoidable downfall, and a certain (additional) heartache.
Because this (their togetherness) was what was not.
It was she who drew away first, though with lingering touches and equally-lingering looks. She searched for her clothes in the darkness and having found them, she dressed in silence.
He watched her the whole time, his head spinning and making him dizzy, his heart hurting and making him want to clutch at his chest like he’d been visibly injured.
Zero knew where she was going: away from this messily- and prettily-painted falsehood and back to reality. Back to Kaname.
He couldn’t keep quiet. “He’ll know,” he said, and she nodded, not denying it.
Of course Kaname would know. He would smell Zero on her; he would taste Zero—would taste his blood flowing through her veins, and he would know what had happened.
And he would forgive her and love her all the same, because that was just how he was.
“I will never regret this,” she told him, leaning down and brushing her lips against his. He had no response to that, however, and this time he remained silent.
As she was on her way out the door, she paused, retrieving Bloody Rose from where it currently lay on the floor. She deposited the weapon in his hands, and then she stepped away from the bed once more.
Zero gazed down at the gun, taking some sort of twisted comfort in the weight of it against his palms. “You know that I’ll--”
“Yes,” she interrupted, and her smile was wistful as she took careful steps backwards, towards the door. “Goodnight, Zero.”
He placed the gun on his bedside table, replying only when she opened the door and stepped outside of his room: “Goodnight, Yuki.”
The door shut with a soft click, and just like that, their respite from the roles they currently played was over. Things returned to how they were, even though how things were was not how things should have been (not in the least).
They were enemies. Cat and mouse. Hunter and the hunted.
Their game would be as it was before (just this): She would be one step ahead of him, and he would be one step behind her.
And somewhere along the line, perhaps Zero would learn to be grateful for what he’d been given instead of heartbroken over what had been taken away.
(Not likely. Not ever. But this was just another pretty lie that he could tell himself—another pretty lie that would see him through til sunrise.)
Not exactly a happy ending, but these two make for a fairly tragic couple, so… XD;;;;