[Seduction of Innocence]

Pairings: Farfarello x Nagi

Kairi Akisame -- Imaged_Betrayal@asianavenue.com

 

He'd be fun to rape. The thought flickered through his mind, the edge of his mouth twitching in some sort of sick smile. Kind of like one a cat would make right before he ate the mouse. He sat his sake bottle down and sighed. Hmm. Farfarello stood up. Who else was home. He didn't know. Schulderich and Crawford went to the park. Holding hands. Singing songs. It was sickening. He put the sake bottle back into the fridge. And picked a knife off the counter. It was sharp. And shiny. Real shiny.  He wanted to see blood. It always looked so sparkly on a fresh clean blade. He ran the knife against the cabinet. It made a nice scratching sound.

 

So sharp.

 

So sharp and so shiny.

 

 Shiny.

 

 He thought of him sitting in the shop. How fun.  He had soft mahogony  hair. So soft. Shiny. Just like the pretty blade he held.Farfarello walked downstairs. That shiny knife was hurled. Pinning him to the wall. Farfarello’s eyes shined. Just like that knife. Farfarello smirked. And threw another blade. This time it hit his arm. "I haven't had fun in a long time." He said quietly. He was drunk. Very drunk. And he advanced. Eyes shining. Glittering. Just like those pretty knives. Farfarello walked up to him. And whispered into his ear.

 

"Scream for me. I like the pretty sound."

 

Farfarello tackled him Dragging his thin body to the floor. Blood. He wanted to see the crimson blood. Rip. The clothing was torn from his body. Fierceness. Such was the Irish man. Tear. Along went the next piece of clothing. Stab. That sparkly blade tore through flesh. A low cackle as blood stained the floor. Such pretty blood. He licked the blade. It tasted sweet. Not to be unexpected from a pretty little boy. He was pinned down. Arms pinned back behind him. A nice little snap made them stay there. Not breaking them. More likely a sprain. His own clothes were tugged at, loosening the tight jeans. Such a little playboy. Such a little slut. He smiled and bent down, and licked his cheek. Licked away fresh tears. Tears of a little boy. A pyschic boy. They'd always tasted sweet.

 

Farfarello laughed cruelly. "Together, we will make god hurt!”  His pants were pulled away. Farfarello was decent sized. It would hurt. Poor thing. He pushed apart his legs. And smiled at the blood across his smooth chest. Farfarello slapped him.

 

 “That's good, god is hurting!”

 

Farfarello hit him roughly. And pinned him down again. Crack. Psycho broke a bone. It wasn't as if it were difficult. He grabbed that shiny blade, and pushed it against his neck. "Keep crying. Your tears please me." He pushed his legs apart, and pushed deeply inside him. He smiled as the boy screamed from not being lubricated. He pushed. To the hilt. A low moan escaped his lips. Practically a virgin. Probably was. Made the rape all the more enjoyable. "Pray, " he uttered. "Pray loudly. Your pleads make me smile.”  Thrust. He thrusted deeper. Tear. Farfarello tore his insides violently. Grin. That cruel grin that slid across his face. How cold. He'd bleed tonight. Sweet virgin. He slid a finger down. Touching cold fluids. Hormones kicked in. Whether he wanted them to or not. Farfarello moaned. Deep. Throaty. He’d cry tonight. Cry himself  to sleep. Or to death. Whichever came along first. And Farfarello came. Claiming his insides. Spilling his seed. Milky and wet.

 

Cold.

 

Cold like his blade.

 

The blade that cut that tear-stained cheek.

 

One sweep.  All in one sweep. And he got up. And pulled away. And left him on the floor. Alone. Naked. "Good little kitten. Daddy will be home soon." And he walked from the room. Carrying that blade. That shiny blade. So shiny.

 

Voices.

 

Voices from downstairs. Happy. Smiling. Singing. Voices. People. People besides Farfarello. Safe people. The voices came closer. "Tadiama!!" They called. Schulderich. Even the German’s voice felt comforting. How quick to run. Cry for help. Away from that monster. That monster called Farfarello. Crawford’s eyes widened as he rounded the hallway. "Oh my god! " Little Nagi clutched at the shredded remains of clothing, desprately trying to cover himself, hide the blood that decorated the pretty wooden floors.  Schulderich’s eyes shook and he stepped back. "Oh god.. " He covered his mouth with his hand. The blood. The blood, oh it made him nauseous. He killed every night. But it made a difference. This was the blood of a friend. The beautiful blood of a teammate. "What happened?" Crawford  cried. His eyes welt with tears. He felt helpless. Yet they all did. At some times. Schulderich’s eyes widened. "Farfarello?" He looked at Crawford. Why would Farfarello ever hurt Nagi? ? He loved Nagi, didn’t he? DIDN’T HE? Crawford shook his head. He didn’t know. No one ever knew what went on in the head of the psycho. Schulderich  looked down. He wasn’t sure why Farfarello hadn’t killed him. It would have all been so easy. He must have had something worse in store. Far worse. Schulderich  picked up the phone. "We need an ambulance. " Click. The reciever replaced. He sighed. "Farfarello’s always violent when he’s around knives... but why would he hurt Nagi or anyone, for that matter.. and not... " Kill. The Irish man killed. So what stopped him. Crawford looked at Nagi’s hair, her fearful midnight blue eyes. Something must have attracted the white-haired man. But of all people.. why Nagi? They sat by him. All day. All night. Until he woke. His arm has been set. His wounds tended. Her tears brushed away in a kiss of passion. Poor Nagi. Cruelty set in. "We’ll hurt god together. " The beginining. Judgement day. The hands of faith had taken their toll. And Nagi was lucky number one.