Harsh, a vampire knight fanfic

This is really sort of a sequence of Kaname remembering the night, beginning with the present. Originally I wanted to do a bit of a tribute to Memento, with Guy Pearce, but that sort of fell through. It's why the paritions are constnt throughtout and the passages seem somewhat interchangeable. [takes a drag] ... yeaaaahhh, I'm not nice to Kaname. That's part of my 'point'.

"Fucking disgusting." Zero wiped his mouth with the side of his hand, congealed blood pebbling it with red. Kaname's cheek hit the pillow, a thick black bruise causing a twitch as he stared at the wall.

The hunter got up and trudged unashamedly to his dresser, yanking out some clothes and throwing them on before flinging the door shut behind him. The bang should have shaken the man on the bed, but he didn't care to move quite yet. The pain in his head barrelled through his body with an intensity only nearly paralleled by the ache of his broken wrist. Bloodspots dotted the sheets, mattress, and floor, though nothing extreme had happened. A little pool moved back and forth when he shifted his legs, and they stopped cold when the horror clicked in his head. Through this horror, his pupils shrunk, staring into the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand. They flickered unsurely, and as he turned to face the ceiling, glared an ominous 6:02, which bore into his very skull in the otherwise dim room.

He managed a selfish smile, which he took with a grain of salt, and tried to see if he could rouse his body yet. Putting pressure on his pounding wrist, he tensed and fell back, a wide grin speckling his face with an insane high that reflected the immense blow to his dignity. He was witness to a room like any rape scene you'd see flashing on the television; an untouched lock glinting with the innocence of what was probably a form of pick; an overturned table from a struggle; the broken glass the victim had held when their assailant had entered. His mind was whirring with endorphins that hadn't quite kicked in, but the persistent, daunting pain was a comforting tether to his uneasy state, and in his weakness, he found he very much needed something to make him feel victimised. Because the last thing his conscience wanted to remember was the brutalisation from which each his ego and pride drew triumph. The blow was overwhelming, and the vulnerability a heavy sting, but never in his life had he felt this kind of accomplishment. Never mind he could barely remember why, or what the fuck had led him to do this.

Zero's mouth was hot on his throat, scratching off the skin instead of tearing it, latching onto his neck like a bloody parasite. Kaname panted and despised himself, flexing his fingers as his grip on the boy's back flocculated, wiggling and grunting and trying to get a foothold on the cliff he'd fallen off of. Teeth worked their way to his chest, a nose sniffing out blood, eyes glaring at his breastplate; another obstacle. The anxiety that should have cultivated inside of him the moment the ex human looked at him like that should have sent him flying out of the room. The thought of why the fuck he hadn't left already had skittishly played around in his head until his breaths were finally loud enough to drown it out. His flesh crawled and sweat filled the space between blood and saliva, yet Zero's touch caused him to dry and shrink, sucking the moisture from him until he gasped and his head finally flew back long enough for the prick to get a good hold on him. Brown hair clung to them, elongated and messy, out of place and in the way.

"You always fucking get in the way, you know?" The hunter said as he threw his shirt off and his claws landed on the pureblood's trousers. "Such a fucking nuisance—if I could kill you, I would." Kaname's head spun with an off-key euphoria, and he realised he was the one talking, slurring, jabbing at his attacker with a half-assed disgust some part of him couldn't help but laugh at. He felt his wrists creak as the boy pushed him into the bed, creating a dip which his blood pooled in. Red eyes scanned him for a semblance of composure and control, but found little offered. Then, taking initiative, he lifted the man's undulating hips, pressed forth, and dove for an exposed neck. As if testing waters, he lapped slowly, then bit with all teeth, ripping from his elder a chunk of skin large enough to patch with. And, upon receiving the corresponding glazed-eye grunt, he smiled, and chewed.

Zero's kiss landed on the side of his mouth, pressing, persistent and justly demanding. He grabbed the boy's collar, pulling him and opening his eyes after the hunter had. A heavy punch landed on his jaw, and he flung into the sideboard, crushing it with his weight. The horror in the boy's eyes was perfectly satisfying, and he absolutely craved more, even if it meant he might feel a little down afterward. Fingering the blood at the side of his mouth, he stared up at the teen, who panted in confusion, running hands through ruffled hair in befuddlement and disgust. His expression was priceless.

"What the bloody fuck was that?!" he asked. Kaname stared at him from the corner with a feral fascination, subdued by the cut on his jaw, where blistered skin brushed up against an unsheathed line of quicksilver bone. "Answer me, God damn it!!"

"More." The pureblood said, arm flopping into his lap with doll-like enthusiasm. The kid stared at him,

"What?" Standing up, shaky from the flow of adrenaline, the brunette walked over to the dishevelled form, who stared him down with a distrusting gaze that he couldn't help but savour. Raising his hand and reaching for the boy's twitching face, a glorious feeling swam through his entire body, rejoicing and trembling in his bones when a fist flew at his brow, shoving him backward with such a force that he fell again. The taunting sound of a creaking bed frame crept through his ears as a sober terror positively retched inside of him, submitting quickly to the adrenaline-fuelled desire to fucking feel. Zero, of course, wouldn't understand it at all. How some dastard, putrid part of him forced him into this release. How restraints and eloquence had become the bane of his dual existence: how he had to paint a masterpiece inside a frame each day. The responsibility was frightening; the possibility of fucking up immense. Pressure, he knew… pressure…

The ex human had straddled his back and twisted his arm with a nervous look on his face. Kaname looked up into those beautiful eyes, rejoicing with a high, clipped moan when his arm was forced up a little more. His forehead hit the bed, and he panted with little control while the other let him go. The arm slid from his back to the bed with a slothful effect, susceptibility intensified by the lost, sparkling look in his eyes. Zero was unable to handle this.

"Get out. I'll fucking shoot you. I'll call the Headmaster. Get the fuck out!" Gaining a shaky confidence as his voice rose, he watched in horror as the pureblood got up, hair sticking to a face shimmering with watered-down, celestially white skin. The figure moved bluntly, sluggishly, trying to rekindle its long-lost lucidity, but their stares caught each other, and a doe-like brown delved the hunter into grey warmth, which shielded him from everything from his conscience to the broad chance of their discovery by some nitwit prefect. He knew this feeling too well to let it fly like it wanted to, and he could see the other fumble in step as he fought with all his might to resist the heady commands weighting his mind. As a hunter, he knew all the little tricks these cunts liked to play: mind control was the easy way out, dictated in part by the instinctual fear of conquer, which arose mainly between a confrontation and the feel of a gun barrel pressed into their pristine foreheads. But that this particular person would try such a thing was, though Zero admonished himself for being so daft, originally incomprehensible. He hadn't planned to sign a waver on his will, and as he stared longer and longer at this tempting creature, he found his castigations losing their admonishing strength until they became useless, self-pitying muck collecting in his sunken gut.

Good God, he was already lost.

Hand coming off the gun holster, he approached the brunette, whose fingers delicately ran across the blankets, apprehensively watching their thrall. Then, when Zero came close, his eyes lost all anxiety, and he relaxed, drooping, preparing for the hit he positively knew was coming. Kaname knew he was being unfair; that he probably wouldn't forgive himself, and neither would the hunter. The true problem of the matter, he thought vaguely as the discomposed hunter walked mindlessly toward him, was that he had only a very slight understanding of what was happening to him and the barrier of hatred that had previously protected them from each other. The ultimatum of violence or loathing he had thought to exist between him and this… kid, in the blink of an eye, had evaporated, and he had no idea how to restrain his fucking head as it swam with things about which he wouldn't dare have nightmares, they were so terrible and debauched. And at the same time, a part of him was pretty much saying "… I can do this. Yeah. I like this. Hell, let's do it all night!"

He pulled the groggy boy to the bed, floorboards creaking a loathsome serenade to his idiocy and lack of control. Zero stirred for a moment, tamed by the wish of some powerhouse vampire bastard. He was deposited in a heap of sheets, and slurred as the brunette looked at the switch by the door, the light going out.

"Fucking let me go, you son of a bitch," or something along the lines of that was what Kaname heard as looked down and took delight in the fact that he could now see easily, but also that the hunter could see him, plain as day. He crept toward the form with the emotion blunt on his face, and recalled with a similar contentment the sight of the poor boy squinting in the sunlight and doing up the blinds, a parodical image of the new vampire.

His knee hit the bed, and the squeak separated his mind from his body's sobering affectations, which now seemed more whorish than necessary. He coughed inside, blubbering at his stupidity and the fact that he was only half-awake. By some blunder of the cosmos, he was looking at this brat with a sick lust mirroring that of Pasiphae's. Something rumbled through him as he looked up and saw an unwilling face slowly coming to the same realisation, give or take a few degrees on the point of view. Should he have known that near-prey-like mentality was appealing to 'beasts', he might have considered the more negative consequences of revealing so carelessly that dawning fear. Should he have known that fearing a creature such as this man would be impractically inviting him, he might have stopped squirming and cussing and moving that neck around, and around, and around… But arrogant as he was, he had the audacity to look up and face his better with such hatred that it took him nearly a second to see the ravenous, gritty picture of his future; a tidal red so strange he was almost swept away. He might have become completely still had it not been for the anchoring fear resting in the pit of his stomach like a long, barnacle-clad chain. God knew it would have made the pureblood's 'job' a bit easier.

The boy squirmed more when he dragged his thighs up, pressing inches from an inexperienced sex. He leaned down and, holding one wrist in the air, pulled the thrashing body up slightly, not as hesitant as he had relied upon himself to be. The thought grounded him like the last, and before he could catch himself, a heaving chest tightened and bucked up, a skull crashing into his own. Flying to the foot of the bed, head reeling, he tried again to dull the hunter to a listless, slow state, but found with some horrifyingly deep joy that, instead of running off, Zero pounced him, and didn't bother holding his wrists. Only tucking in to the crook of his neck, the boy moved his hips like no virgin should know how to.

Kaname panted and looked up at ceiling, dilated eyes turning the dim morning into an unholy blaze of light. An indiscriminate pair of fangs were cold inside of him, wiggling and then solid in place, draining him like he thought they would. Hands held up his thighs, an overexcited pair of hips pressing him insistently downward; gyrating madly against him like any other virginal boy during his first lay. He grimaced and shut his eyes when the hunter ripped a small piece of flesh from his neck, mouth a tight clamp on it as it tore from the rest of his skin. Of course, it grew back, but it was the bloody principal.

An overly curious hand crept in between his legs and played with his half-mast sex, urging some incomprehensible arousal from him with the imposition of a child. At that thought, he felt somewhat ill, and tried to remember how to dissociate himself. Whatever images the boy had tried to force him to conjure fell through, and in their stead raised memories of Rido, laying him down, nearly crying, on his parents' bed, smiling with squinting eyes which turned purple in the haze of recollection. He remembered his mother's perfume bottles, all sitting prettily on her vanity, and the ghost of his uncle sifting through them, searching for the one she'd worn hours before the 'accident'. The stiff frame of a half-man glowing ominously over the curve of a German-made footboard, making his feet curl in sheets still fragrant with lilies, pomegranate flowers, and the obvious scents of making love. The brunette had been taller and leaner than the boy at his throat, with more powerful hands and legs, which had constantly pried and broken limbs apart as they rode him with the carelessness of a pheromone-crazed stallion.

"Your mother was a Hell of a mare. Had a right fight in her, each time. Took after our grandmother, not that you'll ever experience either."

The overcompensation of a soft touch: the graze of a hand against his cheek, curdled his stomach, but still, his core blossomed with lust, and he curled around the hunter, whose awkward, unpractised skill comforted him in his delusions, and brought to head a nostalgic sense of care and love he hadn't felt since his very first times. That combined with the natural roughness of a hunter/ex human provided for more than hard sex or a little torture. A ravenous cruelty habitually consumed the flesh of his neck, slowly becoming irritated by his healing powers, until a rogue hand snuck past his sight and yanked a hunting-grade knife from beneath the bed, plunging the poisoned tip into his gut, greeted with a howl and a terrifyingly powerful smile. It was the sobering feeling of a coarse penetration that dragged his mind from that particular pain.

"What the Hell…" He'd attempted to slur out, but past the pushing, grating, and constant pain lay something not quite graspable or lucid. He couldn't find his mind and the thrusts were so hard, the bed frame, two inches from the wall, rattled at the sill resting above it, shaking the class so that the curtains jiggled and the lead frames pulsed with beastly force. Kaname was being stretched by a schoolboy, and hid his face in shame and relief, constantly horrified by the memory of Rido, and how the man had fucked over his very mind while pressing him over the side of the bed. He was glad that this time, he'd only have to deal with the effect of his own reservations at being violated, and not the topsy-turvy feelings which arose when an older pureblood decided they wanted to play fast and loose with someone else's sanity.

Zero plunged into him recklessly, holding his legs in place and running fingers up and down them in anxiety, nervous lips trailing their mass with an uncharacteristic mindfulness that left the man wondering if he could enjoy a mix of his pasts, instead of reliving one brutal fuck over the few 'nice' ones. A hand clasped his erection and his arms remained draped over his face, adamantly blocking the sweaty vision of the boy poised over him. Above all, in this situation, he'd wanted to preserve some portion of his will: to partition this primal want for touch from his strong conscience. He'd thought he could do it, but whatever borders he'd erected seemed to have consumed all of him, until the only parts left of his mind were either the need to satisfy or something more self-destructive, both painfully obvious of Rido's obsessive tampering. He felt it beneath his tense skin, growing in his shaking muscles, tired from holding their weight against Zero's unsuspecting hands, which assumed Kaname's body was slight and lean as his sister's from the miniscule pressure put upon them.

The boy's gentleness wasn't tedious, but too light for the heady memories he was facing. With such little interference in the way of Rido's—

"GAH-Ah! Ah!"

As if sensing the animosity his elder was about to ask for, Zero grew impeccably rough, and pushed deep and fast, possessed by something that clouded his eyes and, to the man practically weeping under him, turned them strange colours, amassed with an unforgettable heartlessness. He shouted, head turning up as far as it could go, throat taut and tantalisingly exposed. The hunter dove and laved it, always thrusting, always supporting those trembling legs, hand propping up the undecided sex standing half-interestedly between the pureblood's legs.

"You really should be quiet," the hunter said with those horrifying eyes, fucking him deep and blind, "I don't want to know what would happen if someone were to come in." Kaname's arousal came on full-blast and within a few minutes of pumping, he climaxed, Rido's words hanging in the air between them, the unreal sound of barking dogs outside the window, searching for the little boy huddled in the mansion.

As if waking up, Zero groggily eyed the body beneath him, and fingered the stickiness on his and the brunette's stomachs. He looked down in terror to find himself 'in there', and quickly drew out, scrambling to the edge of the bed and nearly falling off. He watched the man anxiously, hatefully, and then in no more then a second, lapsed into a grim, disgusted expression that should have mirrored the other's completely. Instead, a stupid expression donned the otherwise vacuous male, whose limp movements serve no purpose but to reflect his weakness, and his lack of subtlety. And with that, the hunter got up, and didn't bother with the blood that poured from congealing pools on the mattress when he swung over the side, having pushed off the two legs nearly clamped onto him as if they were covered in filth. Which, in a sense, they were, indeed.

He left the room, and Kaname bled out, bliss in his eyes as he tried to stretch and some remnant inside of him cemented onto his will, and he knew distantly that whatever Rido had done to him would never, ever be erased.

I assumed, in all of my bitter overanalyses, that if siblings marrying and parents cannibalising children is common or at least recognised in their world, why in Hell would someone as discomposed and wilful as Rido reject the idea of sleeping with a woman who looked exactly like Juuri? That is to say, theoretically, he slept with three generations in his own family. Four, possibly, if his grandpa was as sick a fuck as he is, and we all know it would be fun to go into redundant memories of Kaname's, but the fact that he's fucking his sister is disturbing enough without adding in the whole 'grandpa' thing. Ick.