Red by scheherezhad

Rating: R

Summary: Before their fight, Karasu and Kurama...play.

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money, please don't sue.

Author's notes: Meme ficcage for my darling krysis, who is sitting in my floor as I type. :P Also, Karasu is a scary, scary muse. Ee.

Feedback: Yeah like whoa. scheherezhad@yahoo.com

Watching him bleed was intensely erotic. He was so desperate to show the little ice demon that he could be redeemed, he let his own arm get sliced open. His blood was beautiful, vibrant as it dripped from his fingers. Then the sweaty oaf beat his unconscious body. Inelegant, but it, too, had a beauty of its own. The slow trickles of blood down his face made me want him more.

I was glad that the Urameshi boy stopped it only because it meant I would have the pleasure of bringing the last red drops out of Kurama's body.

It also told me how I would convince him to come to me.

The boy obviously meant something to Kurama, which meant that I had a bargaining chip. Either threaten to hurt Urameshi...or simply take him. So I took him. Waited until Toguro killed his beloved and took the boy as he grieved. I had him drugged and stripped and bleeding before Kurama arrived, eyes blazing hellfire and fear.

"Let him go," he demanded, alternately fixating on and looking away from Urameshi.

He was in a drugged stupor, eyes unfocused and glazed, body limp and pliant. I hadn't even bothered to bind him. But he was in my lap and out of Kurama's grasp.

"I will. Eventually."

"What do you want from me?"

"To love you. To hurt you." I stroked the boy's skin. He was soft in his own way, and for a moment I could see why Kurama was so enamored of him. "Isn't he pretty? So strong, yet so fragile. Do you want to touch him?" I traced a line along the inside of his thigh. "Do you want to take him? He wouldn't remember later—but maybe you would rather he did."

His fists were clenched so hard that he drew his own blood, nails biting into his palms. It was bliss.

"Or," I pressed, "perhaps I should take him. Would you like to watch him being broken open—"

"Stop."

Oh, he was shaking. Exquisite. "You like the way he fusses over you when you're hurt. I saw how gentle he was with you after you fought the Ice Master, how you ached for his touch." I traced some of the cuts I'd made, ones low on his stomach. "He bleeds so nicely, but nothing like you. There is something to be said for red on black, though I find myself more fond of red on red."

When I looked up, he had shut his eyes and forced his fists to unclench. He was ready to give in to me. He wanted me to stop touching the boy.

"I'll give you what you want. But I will kill you if you touch him again."

I laid Urameshi aside gently and stood. My knife hilt rested firmly in my hand. I circled Kurama slowly and stepped behind him, lifting the knife to his cheek. The blade was still covered in Urameshi's blood, and it left a brown-red streak on his pale, pale skin.

"Should I use this for you, too? His blood mingling with yours..." I angled the blade just slightly and felt the give of flesh splitting beneath its edge. A thin trail of crimson followed my path.

"What do you want from me?"

I whispered into his ear, "I want to break you."

"Let him go, first. Then you can do anything you like."

"Even if I let him go, the drugs won't wear off for hours. I think he'll stay here for the time being. He'll be safer that way." As I spoke, I casually undressed Kurama. He tensed beneath my touch, but he allowed it.

Finally, I had all of that beautiful white skin as my playground. I stepped back to admire him for a moment and to decide where I wanted to begin. His eyes were still on the boy, and I had a brief desire to cut them out, to keep them in a box. But he would need them to watch me, and he would need them to fight me.

Instead, I moved close again and fisted my left hand in that pretty, pretty red hair. Even when I yanked his head back, he watched Urameshi. So sacrificing. He was more worried about his friend than his own life, even with a knife at his throat.

"You think you're not worthy of him, don't you?" I asked, trailing my blade down his chest. "That's why you care so much more what happens to him than what I do to you."

He didn't answer. I didn't expect him to. I made a long, winding cut along his ribs on the left side.

"There's a purity to him that draws you, something that all of the fighting and destruction and death doesn't take away." A slash across his stomach. "You want to be near that because his friendship makes you feel redeemed." An X on his right side. "Yet at the same time, you're afraid that your past will make him hate you. That your desire," I rested the knife just above his groin, "will taint him."

His eyes finally shut, and I knew I had what I wanted. He was broken.

I made one last slice with my knife, a cut just at the base of his cock. It would remind him of this moment every time he felt desire until it healed.

I let him go, then, all at once. The cuts were so pretty, but I liked the last one best, bleeding red on red.

"You're both free to go now. And take this," I said, handing him a small jar from my pocket. "It's enough for his wounds or yours. Your decision." We both knew which he would choose.

"I will kill you when we fight," he finally said.

"We'll see."

I left him there, naked and ashamed, to tend to the boy. Kurama was mine now, but it would be he who died in our fight. I always killed the things I loved.