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chineseinkTired of His Dark Dominion
D.Gray-man, R, Lavi/Lavi, 1028 words
Lavi fights himself for the strength to go on.
Spoilers for the most recent chapters (through 120).
Tired of His Dark Dominion
by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meitachi
By chance…for the sake of recording history…
Lavi shudders and coughs, shoulders heaving as blood sprays from his mouth, trickling down his chin. He rolls over, gritting his teeth as the world spins in flashes of red and black. Needles of pain stab his head, his chest, blinding him momentarily.
You are a failure as a Bookman.
That voice. His voice. Twisted low and condescending as he’s never used it, accompanied with a smirk. Amusement directed at him, at Lavi, for his failure. For daring to believe that he could be something more, that the world could be more than just blotches of ink, words to mark the passing of history. His chest heaves again and he retches, blood and air choking him.
Even if you die, Bookman won’t become extinct.
He clenches his fist, mind rebelling against encroaching darkness, edges of despair eating away at his desperation. It can’t end like this. He isn’t this weak. There are people…friends…waiting— A blur of images floods across his vision: Lenalee, Allen, Kanda, memories of the Black Order, of missions and comrades and fights for his life. He sees their accusing stares, their coffins, the death-pale air about them, and lurches to his knees.
A brush of air and cloth sounds as the other him draws near, crouching in front of him. Fingers touch his cheek, light, before skimming low along his jaw and tilting his head up. The other him peers at Lavi with a dark, laughing eye, his loose hair framing his pale face.
“I will succeed the role of Bookman,” the Other Lavi says, his smile curling his lips. His voice is soft, cruel. “You will vanish, Lavi.”
Then he lowers his head, crushing his lips against Lavi’s roughly. His mouth is a hard as his smile, unrelenting. His fingers dig into Lavi’s jaw as he holds him still, blood and saliva slicking their mouths. A sharp pain explodes in the forefront Lavi’s mind, under the numbing blanket of aches and throbs that wrack his body, as the Other Lavi bites at his lower lip, digging into soft flesh. He shoves Lavi back onto his ass, straddling him in a swift, graceful movement.
Lavi chokes again, struggling for breath. The Other Lavi draws back briefly and chuckles low in his throat, pressing an almost chaste, fleeting kiss to the corner of Lavi’s mouth. His fingers slide away form Lavi’s face to stroke his collarbone, bared by his gaping collar. Lavi feels an unwilling streak of arousal roll over him as the other him rocks his hips forward.
“Don’t,” Lavi gasps, eyes closing.
His other self licks his neck in response, a wide, wet strip that leaves Lavi tingling.
“No.” Lavi feels the pressure building up in his chest, the protest, the denial, as hands strip away his jacket and skate, warm and firm, down his chest. Blood is drying and sticking to his skin even as his hair grows damp with sweat. He quivers as the Other Lavi thrusts his hips again. “No—” Lavi shudders as hands cup his cock through his pants.
“So many protests,” a warm voice murmurs in his ear. He feels a tug and the Other Lavi has unbuckled his belt, pressing closer as his hands work at Lavi’s pants. The dagger hanging from Lavi’s belt clatters against the ground with the belt, beside the discarded jacket. Then the Othre Lavi’s hands are on Lavi’s cock, hot and tight.
Lavi bucks as the hands squeeze. “Fuck.” His heart leaps into his throat in a combination of fear and anticipation
“I will succeed you,” the Other Lavi whispers. “I am the real you.” His mouth finds Lavi’s neck, teeth scraping against bared skin before he latches on and sucks, drawing blood and heat to the surface. His hand fists tight around Lavi’s erection, pulling long, rapid strokes from base to tip. Lavi’s skin feels too tight, his hair matted to his head, in his eyes, as he gasps and chokes and rocks unwillingly in response. He swallows down bile as the Other Lavi’s swipes a finger across the slit of his cock and he spasms with pleasure.
The Other Lavi’s tongue finds his Adam’s apple, dragging slowly, agonizingly across sensitive skin. His thumb presses against the underside of Lavi’s erection, where the vein pulses. Lavi jerks as the thumb sweeps down his length and those damnable, damning fingers fondle his balls. His other self is murmuring something else, something wicked, but Lavi hears nothing but the blood rushing in his ears. He arches into the Other Lavi’s hands as he comes, shuddering in release as his world goes temporarily white, pleasure drugging his body languid.
When his heartbeat slows, Lavi opens his eye to find the world back in shades of greys and blues and blacks except for the shock of his other self’s hair. Guilt descends rapidly and, with it, shame. He pushes the other away from him, his stomach churning. No…
The Other Lavi is chuckling again, his hands coated with viscous liquid that Lavi knows his own semen. He hunches his shoulders, feeling ill. No. His mind rebels against the aching, endless emptiness. There must be something else, something not a pink-red tongue, swirling and lascivious, licking Lavi’s come from hands that look the same as his own.
“Go to sleep,” his other self says. His voice is compelling, husky, sliding over Lavi like a caress. A smile flirts with his mouth. Lavi backs away as the Other Lavi drops onto all fours and crawls closer, pushing him down into the ground. He presses his palm to Lavi’s heart and tilts his head against Lavi’s, the edges of their hair blurring into an indistinct mass of red as Lavi’s vision slowly fades to black.
No, he thinks foggily, sluggishly. There must be…
As the heartbeat in his ears grow slower, further apart, Lavi inches his hand across the ground on sheer instinct, dazed and blind. Somewhere in a distant far-off place, he can hear screaming. Someone is crying. Someone is calling his name. When the other him brushes a “goodbye” and a kiss across his lips, Lavi’s fingers close around his dagger.
I will succeed the role of Bookman. I am the real you.
No, said Lavi.
--
Started/Finished: 06.09.2007
--
Notes: I kind of have a love/hate relationship with DGM right now. I love all of the characters save one (let's not get into it) but the plot is killing me slowly. So cruel, Hoshino, so cruel. But pr0n is always hot, and that is my justification of this completely gratuitous rewriting of the recent chapters, ahaha. :D
Title from George Meredith's Lucifer in Starlight.
D.Gray-man, R, Lavi/Lavi, 1028 words
Lavi fights himself for the strength to go on.
Spoilers for the most recent chapters (through 120).
Tired of His Dark Dominion
by
meitachiBy chance…for the sake of recording history…
Lavi shudders and coughs, shoulders heaving as blood sprays from his mouth, trickling down his chin. He rolls over, gritting his teeth as the world spins in flashes of red and black. Needles of pain stab his head, his chest, blinding him momentarily.
You are a failure as a Bookman.
That voice. His voice. Twisted low and condescending as he’s never used it, accompanied with a smirk. Amusement directed at him, at Lavi, for his failure. For daring to believe that he could be something more, that the world could be more than just blotches of ink, words to mark the passing of history. His chest heaves again and he retches, blood and air choking him.
Even if you die, Bookman won’t become extinct.
He clenches his fist, mind rebelling against encroaching darkness, edges of despair eating away at his desperation. It can’t end like this. He isn’t this weak. There are people…friends…waiting— A blur of images floods across his vision: Lenalee, Allen, Kanda, memories of the Black Order, of missions and comrades and fights for his life. He sees their accusing stares, their coffins, the death-pale air about them, and lurches to his knees.
A brush of air and cloth sounds as the other him draws near, crouching in front of him. Fingers touch his cheek, light, before skimming low along his jaw and tilting his head up. The other him peers at Lavi with a dark, laughing eye, his loose hair framing his pale face.
“I will succeed the role of Bookman,” the Other Lavi says, his smile curling his lips. His voice is soft, cruel. “You will vanish, Lavi.”
Then he lowers his head, crushing his lips against Lavi’s roughly. His mouth is a hard as his smile, unrelenting. His fingers dig into Lavi’s jaw as he holds him still, blood and saliva slicking their mouths. A sharp pain explodes in the forefront Lavi’s mind, under the numbing blanket of aches and throbs that wrack his body, as the Other Lavi bites at his lower lip, digging into soft flesh. He shoves Lavi back onto his ass, straddling him in a swift, graceful movement.
Lavi chokes again, struggling for breath. The Other Lavi draws back briefly and chuckles low in his throat, pressing an almost chaste, fleeting kiss to the corner of Lavi’s mouth. His fingers slide away form Lavi’s face to stroke his collarbone, bared by his gaping collar. Lavi feels an unwilling streak of arousal roll over him as the other him rocks his hips forward.
“Don’t,” Lavi gasps, eyes closing.
His other self licks his neck in response, a wide, wet strip that leaves Lavi tingling.
“No.” Lavi feels the pressure building up in his chest, the protest, the denial, as hands strip away his jacket and skate, warm and firm, down his chest. Blood is drying and sticking to his skin even as his hair grows damp with sweat. He quivers as the Other Lavi thrusts his hips again. “No—” Lavi shudders as hands cup his cock through his pants.
“So many protests,” a warm voice murmurs in his ear. He feels a tug and the Other Lavi has unbuckled his belt, pressing closer as his hands work at Lavi’s pants. The dagger hanging from Lavi’s belt clatters against the ground with the belt, beside the discarded jacket. Then the Othre Lavi’s hands are on Lavi’s cock, hot and tight.
Lavi bucks as the hands squeeze. “Fuck.” His heart leaps into his throat in a combination of fear and anticipation
“I will succeed you,” the Other Lavi whispers. “I am the real you.” His mouth finds Lavi’s neck, teeth scraping against bared skin before he latches on and sucks, drawing blood and heat to the surface. His hand fists tight around Lavi’s erection, pulling long, rapid strokes from base to tip. Lavi’s skin feels too tight, his hair matted to his head, in his eyes, as he gasps and chokes and rocks unwillingly in response. He swallows down bile as the Other Lavi’s swipes a finger across the slit of his cock and he spasms with pleasure.
The Other Lavi’s tongue finds his Adam’s apple, dragging slowly, agonizingly across sensitive skin. His thumb presses against the underside of Lavi’s erection, where the vein pulses. Lavi jerks as the thumb sweeps down his length and those damnable, damning fingers fondle his balls. His other self is murmuring something else, something wicked, but Lavi hears nothing but the blood rushing in his ears. He arches into the Other Lavi’s hands as he comes, shuddering in release as his world goes temporarily white, pleasure drugging his body languid.
When his heartbeat slows, Lavi opens his eye to find the world back in shades of greys and blues and blacks except for the shock of his other self’s hair. Guilt descends rapidly and, with it, shame. He pushes the other away from him, his stomach churning. No…
The Other Lavi is chuckling again, his hands coated with viscous liquid that Lavi knows his own semen. He hunches his shoulders, feeling ill. No. His mind rebels against the aching, endless emptiness. There must be something else, something not a pink-red tongue, swirling and lascivious, licking Lavi’s come from hands that look the same as his own.
“Go to sleep,” his other self says. His voice is compelling, husky, sliding over Lavi like a caress. A smile flirts with his mouth. Lavi backs away as the Other Lavi drops onto all fours and crawls closer, pushing him down into the ground. He presses his palm to Lavi’s heart and tilts his head against Lavi’s, the edges of their hair blurring into an indistinct mass of red as Lavi’s vision slowly fades to black.
No, he thinks foggily, sluggishly. There must be…
As the heartbeat in his ears grow slower, further apart, Lavi inches his hand across the ground on sheer instinct, dazed and blind. Somewhere in a distant far-off place, he can hear screaming. Someone is crying. Someone is calling his name. When the other him brushes a “goodbye” and a kiss across his lips, Lavi’s fingers close around his dagger.
I will succeed the role of Bookman. I am the real you.
No, said Lavi.
--
Started/Finished: 06.09.2007
--
Notes: I kind of have a love/hate relationship with DGM right now. I love all of the characters save one (let's not get into it) but the plot is killing me slowly. So cruel, Hoshino, so cruel. But pr0n is always hot, and that is my justification of this completely gratuitous rewriting of the recent chapters, ahaha. :D
Title from George Meredith's Lucifer in Starlight.
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