Encounter

It was always the same. The rhythmic clacking of my boots on rain-washed asphalt caused the vermin to scatter like the cockroaches that they are, shouting desperate warnings to enemies and allies alike, announcing my presence. I never went out on these dark streets merely to rid this pitiful place of the filth that crawled through the gutters, spouting nonsense about winning Igura and killing Il-Re. If they couldn't or wouldn't face me here on open turf, how did they expect to defeat me in the coliseum? In my coliseum? Weaklings such as these are scarcely worth my time and are certainly not worthy of death by my blade. I was hunting for bigger game, and if they happen to impede my sport with their presence, they will be eliminated as a nuisance. For I always kill without prejudice. These dogs deserve to be put down like the strays that they are; yet like the hydra, the demise of one simply sprouts two more, even more pitiful than the last. They are revolting in every way.

My blade sliced smoothly through two more men, their veins throbbing with line, sputtering and whining their last words as they struck the ground, their blood swirling gracefully into puddles on the asphalt. I flicked my wrist, ridding my katana of the red liquid that was, only moments ago, pulsing wildly through their veins as they scrambled away in fear. There was nothing satisfying or interesting in the expressions that they wore as they died; only pleading terror, befitting of the lowly scum that they undoubtedly were. I could see the shadows of many as they scrambled frantically into alleys and in the direction of the hotel in the neutral zone, one of the few places where they thought they could find sanctuary. Yet they have forgotten that I pay no heed to their distinctions of what is neutral or what is not, for there is no one to enforce such petty policies upon me.

I stopped my advancement for a moment, spotting the outline of a figure who seemed to be approaching me at a run, glancing around wildly as if in pursuit of someone. A smirk began to spread across my face, eyes narrowing with amusement and intrigue. "How interesting," I spoke aloud to the darkness.

Suddenly he seemed to become aware of my presence, stepping away clumsily and searching for some kind of escape; I couldn't help but chuckle quietly to myself, his boldness was fascinating nonetheless. I assessed him from a distance. He seemed to have ceased his panicking, and appeared to adjust his stance, ready for combat. Though I could only see his silhouette due to the streetlights that illuminated the darkness behind him, I could tell that he was fit and lean, probably several years younger than myself, and bold. This could very well become an interesting encounter; he was not vermin like the rest, but that did not mean that I would refrain from taking his life.

"Shiki," he said, voice deep but soft. "Shiki," he repeated, more boldly, his words gaining confidence. I said nothing in response but began to approach him once again, my prowling steps long and regular, the sounds of my boots on pavement echoing throughout the now silent streets, bouncing between the facades of dilapidated buildings. It was impressive that he held his ground as I drew closer to him, but I could now see his face in the limited scope of the streetlamps. His face was framed by shaggy grey hair, and his eyes were an arrogant, icy blue that I found to be most intriguing; yet his slightly parted, panting lips betrayed the confident coldness in his eyes. He was handsome, that was for certain, and even though he wore a heavy coat and fitted jeans that concealed his body, I knew that he was equally impressive beneath those layers of deceptive fabric. Everything about the boy was oddly appealing.

I stopped about three strides from him, the exact distance that would allow my katana access to his jugular, assessing him with interest and meeting his frigid, distant gaze with my own. He never attempted to flee, but he was unconsciously leaning his body away from me as we stood, face to face, in complete silence. I wasn't sure if I should commend him for his bravery, or scold him for his stupidity by allowing him the honor of dying by my blade.

He seemed startled when I spoke, "You. I've seen you, dog. I believe I allowed you to live once. Do you wish for me to take your life so badly?" His expression quickly returned to the arrogant glare that I found so alluring, yet simultaneously infuriating. When he refused to respond and my patience began to wear thin, I raised my arm, the dull edge of my blade resting against the underside of his chin and causing him to shudder noticeably. "Why do you not run like the rest of the rats? Are you not afraid? Do you not fear the man who holds your life in his hands?"

Still I was met but nothing but his glare, his crystal eyes piercing through thick eyelashes. "I do not fear you," he said, his voice low and as equally frigid as his gaze. My red eyes narrowed as I stood quietly, momentarily contemplating the most suitable means by which to punish the dog before me for his blatant insolence. I was scarcely able to come to a conclusion when I felt his foot roughly impact my chest, knocking me backwards with surprising force. My boots ground into the slick asphalt, quickly recovering as I rose calmly to my feet, adjusting my coat and shifting my grip on the hilt of my katana. He might have been impressively fast, but his strength, skill, and speed were still lacking in comparison to mine. Regardless, he provided me with a chance to enjoy myself, and I would not waste such an opportunity, though this little farce would result in his death soon enough. I could do nothing to suppress the smirk that tweaked the corners of my lips.

"My friend Rin," he began, his voice growing louder and bolder through panting breaths, "he came after you when the others said that you were here; what did you do to him?"

"Hmm? I would have extinguished his life immediately, but his blood has not tainted my blade." He seemed unsatisfied with my response, and took several aggressive strides in my direction, producing a blade which had been concealed in a sheath behind his back. I easily resisted his assault, the dagger sparking as it struck the side of my katana. Smirking slightly, I pushed him away forcefully, swinging my blade's scabbard and striking his unbalanced legs from beneath his body, watching as his back impacted the wet asphalt with a heavy thud. He clutched the back of his head with a groan, panting and mumbling curses as he used his free hand in attempt to scramble to his feet. I allowed him to regain his stance before gracing his side with a solid kick, causing his shoulder to slam roughly into a shop window, spider webs of cracks sprawling out from the impact. Remarkably, he managed to avoid the following punch, my gloved fist easily shattering the fractured storefront, shards of glass tinkling to the ground with crystalline tones. I retorted with yet another kick, causing him to stumble and fall as the low wall beneath the shattered window caught the backs of his knees, his palms flowing red with blood as he quickly recovered, hands landing squarely on the broken fragments.

I watched him scramble to his feet, retreating from my slow, measured advance until his back struck a wall. It was nearly silent, save from our panting breaths and the grinding of shattered glass into the ground beneath my boots. Regardless of his apparent defeat, his expression never changed, never adopting the ugly face of fear that most of my victims wore during their final moments. He remained steadfast, and it was clear to both of us that unlike his body, his spirit would never be broken. However, the concept presented itself as an interesting challenge.

Our eyes maintained a fierce connection as I strode towards him, pressing the flat, frigid steel of my blade across his pale throat, tilting his head back and exposing collarbones that were framed by lean, muscular shoulders. I could not resist the urge press my body against his, to remind him of his complete inferiority in comparison to me. I wanted to see fear spark in those icy eyes, to see him begging me for release while I tormented him like a cat with a mouse.

Stepping nearer, I traced the fingers of my free hand along the smoothness of my coveted blade, grazing the warmth of his neck as I gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at me directly. I couldn't suppress a grin as I leaned into him, cheeks grazing, our grey and black hair tangling together as I spoke lowly into his ear, "Your eyes are still dangerously arrogant. I'm sure I could manage to fix that, dog." He tensed at my words, making futile attempts to pull himself free, but my grip merely tightened as if he was a rabbit in a snare. "Why do you struggle? I'm offering to spare your life for a few pleasant moments longer." I let my lips graze his jaw and neck, sliding down to tantalizing collarbones, where I placed an aggressive bite. I laughed as he sucked in a desperate breath and strained once more against my touch, "What do they call you, stray? Speak plainly."

He made several breathy attempts at speech before managing, "Akira."

I hummed in response, trailing my tongue across the bruise blossoming from the bite, before repeating, "Akira." The name tasted sweet, like the honeyed aftertaste left behind by a sip of hot tea, and we both tensed at the sound. But not so out of fear or anticipation; this tension was different, and oddly alluring. "Well then, Akira," I teased, savoring the flavor of the word, "what do you plan to do now?"

His body seemed to swell slightly, as if drawing in a very deep breath and never exhaling, so we stayed, simply sitting in frigid silence as he contemplated his next movement. I chuckled lowly to myself as I spoke into his ear, my voice purring in the quiet, scarcely more than a whisper, "It's alright, you can release that breath you've been holding so diligently, I've decided not to kill you." Akira surprisingly obeyed, his icy eyes closing and his well-built frame shuddering as his lungs emptied, his weight leaning against the wall behind us. "Very good," I murmured through a smirk as I placed my lips heavily against his jugular, "now let me give you another form of release." He tensed again as I hummed my satisfaction, my hand falling down his body and coming to rest between his legs, palm cupping the area where a tentative heat was beginning to puddle.

He attempted to avoid my touch, forcing his body tighter against the cold cinder block wall in an effort to free himself and wrenching his frigid eyes closed in desperation. I suspected that he was beginning to feel it against his will, the tantalizing arousal that seeped into his blood, spreading like a poison that one could never resist, pooling in his groin. My body and hands sought to coax him free of his uncertainty, as drawing him into willing submission despite his initial resistance would be the ultimate exhibition of my dominance. And I could not possibly deny myself the physical touch of such delicious prey.

I massaged him lightly, my palm welcoming the increasing tautness that was spreading across the front of his jeans, and my ears savoring the miniscule moans which were beginning to slip involuntarily between his lips. His hips pressed forward in desperate desire for contact as I removed my hand, fingers trailing up his jacket, the rough texture of the zipper rumbling beneath my fingertips. Grazing across his chest, the chills he felt at the contact rose in bumps under my touch as I moved to grasp his chin tightly, pulling him into a surprisingly gentle kiss, our lips ghosting across each other. I pressed our lips together again, more forcefully, and held him roughly, waiting for him to surrender to my ministrations and return the kiss. My tongue traced the undulations of his lips, asking for access which I knew that he wanted to give; yet his stubbornness remained annoyingly persistent, and he denied my advances. Growing weary of patience, I shoved my knee in between his thighs, applying the pressure that he was so subconsciously craving, eliciting from him a gasp and a beautifully lewd moan.

I smirked into our kiss, slipping my tongue casually through his slightly parted lips and entangling it with his own, beginning a sensual battle for dominance. He enthusiastically accepted the challenge, roughly returning the embrace with dancing lips, tongue entwining with mine as our panting breaths mingled, sweet with the flavor of kisses. I was immensely pleased when I felt his strong hands begin to wander, one curling tightly into the fabric covering my chest, the grasp clingy and desperate as he pulled me against his chest. The other ran up my back, outlining the arcs and ridges of the muscles of my shoulders with gentle touches before sensually weaving long fingers into my dark hair, his short nails scratching lightly into my scalp. Moaning softly, I cursed myself for my weakness, determined to regain control over the situation, seeking to remind this dog of his true place.

He froze as I began to slide the flat, icy steel of my katana over his skin, freeing his throat from the constraints of the contact and dropping the blade, the sword standing erect as the point pierced easily into the floor. His eyes, which moments before had been clouded heavily with lust, shone sharply with surprise as they darted from my eyes to the weapon and back, seemingly surprised that I was confirming my lack of intention to kill him. One of my hands groped him again between his legs, encouraging a dramatic gasp and delicious moan as my fingers traced his body, my other hand running over the warm flesh of his throat. I moved my lips to the wings of his collar bones, tongue occasionally flicking across small patches of exposed skin as I left a trail of bites along his jaw before taking his lip aggressively between my teeth. He reciprocated, kissing me roughly as he pulled me desperately close, straining to quell his thirst for contact as his fingers began to pry at my belt with greedy urgency.

"Now, now, Akira," I laughed as I hissed into his ear, my smirking lips grazing his neck lightly as I spoke, "I hope you understand what you're starting by doing that." He merely growled in response, fingers again occupying themselves with tugging at the leather band slung lowly across my hips. I could do nothing but comply with his demands now that he had neglected to heed my disclaimer; so I would give him what he wanted, regardless of the harm that might befall his specimen of a body. But that could not be helped.

Attacking him with renewed vigor, my lips violently assaulted his own as my fingers gripped tighter around his jugular, the entanglement of my tongue with his smothering his attempted words of rejection. My other hand began to swiftly remove his jacket and belt, casting them carelessly to the floor as I began to free his arousal from the confines of the denim that was growing unbearably tight across his hips. His fingers flew to mine, clawing desperately in a failed attempt to slow my advances, yet I couldn't help but feel his sudden onset of modesty to be wickedly arousing. I roughly slapped his hand away, trapping them in one of my own and pinning them against the wall above his head, the stretch pulling up his shirt enough to teasingly reveal toned abdominals that descended in a sculpted "v" down into the waistband of his jeans. Attracted like a moth to a flame, my free hand drifted beneath his shirt, eliciting a gasp and a slight wince as my cold fingers traced each ridge like braille, savoring each anxious twitch of the taught muscles of his stomach and chest before quickly removing the fabric in a single swift movement. "What the he-?!" he began to retort, though he was quickly silenced by the violence of my gaze, my eyes slowly absorbing the sight of his body as I looked over his naked chest hungrily.

"You've been so quiet, dog. So why do you bark now?" I growled into his ear, my smirking voice low with frustration and lust as I gripped his throat again, throwing him roughly to the floor.

He grunted at the impact, arching his bare back away from the cold floorboards in fruitless avoidance as he hissed at me, eyes regaining their look of anger and arrogance. "Bastard," he spat while I knelt over him, taking in the sight as I slowly removed my coat, casting it to the side before removing my gloves, my teeth aiding each hand in slipping free. My fingers traced his lips, encouraging him to welcome them in and wet them with his tongue, but he visibly gritted his teeth, turning his cheek to me defiantly. Growling at the rejection, my hand instead moved to weave itself into his thick grey hair, fingers curling in tightly before lifting his head and promptly slamming it back into the floor. "Shit!"

My gaze darkened as he looked at me angrily, moving to clutch the back of his skull. "Suck, Akira." The tone of my statement must have conveyed my message sufficiently, as his eyes widened briefly before taking my fingers between his lips, wrapping each one sensually with his tongue. The warmth of the touch gave me chills despite the heat, and his tongue was nimble as he traced my digits with the tip, as if trying to taste my identity through my fingerprints. He nipped at my fingers as I freed them from his mouth, satisfied with the results of his ministrations as I smoothly rid him of the remainder of his garments, bumps rising on his soft skin at the chill.

I wasted no time in moving my digits to his entrance, my need growing more urgent as the result of my own arousal became increasingly more painful, still trapped within the confines of my unforgiving leather pants. His shock was apparent as his body flinched aggressively and moved to restrict any further movement of my fingers. Angry, I slapped his hands away and above his head, my elbow pinning one arm to the floor while my hand roughly gripped the other, my forearm resting heavily across his throat. I leaned down to him, my chest hovering just above his own, and bit his shoulder violently as I pressed one finger into the warm constriction of his entrance, savoring his gasp and his body's obvious confusion. Akira squirmed beneath me as I began to move, my finger curling and flexing rhythmically before I added yet another, coaxing another pained yelp from the man.

"Hurts… like hell," he grumbled defiantly between panting breaths, "stop this. Shiki, stop. Dammit."

I couldn't conceal the amusement in my tone as I responded, "Relax and it'll get better. Soon you'll be begging me not to stop."

His scoff earned from my lips a low, dark laugh, which encouraged yet another bitter, breathy reply of "Fuck you." There was nothing that could have suppressed the smirk that unzipped itself across my face as I curled my fingers, grazing a certain bundle of nerves that elicited a lewd moan and violent shudder from the man beneath me. Satisfied with his reaction, I performed the movement again as I released his arms and lowered my lips to his ear, gracing his neck with kisses and bites that left bruises blooming over the smooth skin.

"Now beg for me, Akira."

I could see his member twitch at my words, and moaning loudly, he pressed himself against me eagerly as I added another finger to the stimulation inside him, simultaneously freeing my own arousal and grasping it hungrily. Striking the bundle of nerves one last time, I removed my fingers, earning a whimper as his body writhed beneath me, vehemently rejecting the abandonment. He tensed and froze instantly as I aggressively replaced my fingers with my pulsing, needy member and shoved myself inside of him roughly, pausing with a groan and savoring the tightness and depth. Finally, he released the breath that he had been holding so desperately, and I could feel his body relaxing around me, encouraging me to move, finding an angle that caused us both to moan freely.

We continued this way for a while, his hips rising to meet each of my thrusts, the heat of impending release beginning to puddle in my lap, the searing warmth as torturous as it was enticing. I claimed Akira's lips in a rough kiss, our tongues tangling mindlessly, fueled by lust and anticipation as he bit my lip, responding to the touch of my hand on his arousal. His head dropped back against the floor with a moan as I began to stroke him, edging him towards his release as my hand rose and fell, twisting lightly with subtle flicks of my wrist. The haze of my thoughts cleared for a moment as I strained to comprehend the breathy words that he muttered between the symphony of moans and sighs that paraded through his lips.

"Close, Shiki… I'm close," he panted, his voice whiny and desperate. "Please, make me come. Please."

"Hmm," I chuckled lowly, his words sending heat pulsing violently to the area between my legs, "you sound delicious when you beg, Akira. Do it again."

He growled in response, frigid eyes glaring at me from behind the grey fringe that was clinging to his face with sweat, and grabbed my hips, pulling me deep into him and holding me there, moaning lowly. Freeing me, I repeated the movement, plunging into him deeply, feeling his body tremble around me as his muscular arms snaked about my neck, clinging to me desperately. I could sense that we both were near our climaxes, so I began to move urgently, striking the bundle of nerves inside him with frightening precision until I could feel him begin to quake. My hand closed around his member as he released, shuddering as his muscles tensed in ecstasy, constricting my arousal and leading to my own orgasm.

I could feel my body becoming heavy as I released into him, his bodily heat gladly welcoming my own as we lay in silence broken only by stray moans and heaving breaths. Akira untangled his arms from my neck and allowed them to fall to his sides, his hot, damp skin slapping as it struck the coldness of the worn hardwood floors. After watching him for a moment, I quickly composed myself, cleaning up and redressing myself despite my lingering exhaustion from my recent sexual release. No matter the circumstance, he was still a dog, and would forever need to be reminded of his place, and his complete inferiority to me. The marks that I left on his body stood as evidence for this, claiming him as mine and declaring that it was me to whom he fell and succumbed. I owned this stray now, and everyone would do well to remember that fact.

Retrieving my katana and slipping the blade into its scabbard, I glanced over my shoulder to the sculpted, grey-haired man as he struggled through the pain to redress himself. I stalked over to him, standing behind him as I placed the sheathed sword flat across his collar, pulling him backwards until he leaned into my chest. "You belong to me now, Akira," I purred into his ear, licking a bead of sweat from the ivory skin of his neck and biting down lightly, "and I will make sure every piece of filth in this God forsaken town knows it." Sighing, he laid his head back against my shoulder, merely nodding his ascent as I smirked with satisfaction. "I'll be sure to find you the next time I wish to play, pet," I said darkly, lowering my blade and turning to leave, my coat swaying around my calves like a shadow in candlelight.

"Shiki," he said in a voice that gave me chills. I froze, pivoting on one heel, katana in hand, and facing him directly waited for him to inform me of why he had insisted on stopping my exit. Suddenly I was grabbed by my coat, the fingers of a strong hand curling tightly into the leather as Akira drug me roughly into a kiss, his lips eager and tongue seeking entrance, tying knots with mine. Soon we parted for breath, staring at each other, our faces each mirroring the surprise of the other, our minds reeling from the unexpected passion in the kiss. A crooked smile began to slip across his face, and he began to chuckle lightly, earning from me an extremely irritated glare. "I might be yours, but that also means that you're mine," he stated, before turning and, without another word or backwards glance, strolled out of the building and into the night.