Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author claims no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
With the wind in our hair and the road under our seats, Touga is smiling. His hair blows out behind him, waving and curling under with the wind, like the tides of an ocean. Would he know the ocean if he saw it? Does he remember anything outside of Ohtori Academy?
He rides with his fingers in his hair, his elbow on the door. He watches the road in front of us and does not look at me, and he thinks this will upset me. Yet his jacket is undone, rippling with the force of the wind and the speed of the car. I did that. I loosened his jacket and so much more, and now he shows it off to me. My randy little whore. He cannot ever get enough.
"You're propositioning me again, Mr. Chairman? How indecent," he purrs.
Indecent is not the beginning of the things I will do to this boy, but as long as he thinks himself my equal, he is mine. "It suits you," I tell him.
"Indecency?"
"The proposition."
The End of the World is upon us. I shift the car into high gear. Touga does not expect me to move my hand from the gearshift to his hand, he does not expect me to take him with me as I step up over the windscreen. Yet he follows me with grace, and we land side-by-side on the hood of the car, plummetting into the blackness in front of us.
Those streetlights that line the highway to the End of the World are long behind us. The road has disappeared and the car skids wildly, spinning in a carousel of mad darkness and screeching tires. We have to ride it out. Touga clutches me, quite naturally afraid he will be flung off due to the great centripital force. Ah, but you are in my world now, my boy. You go where I lead you. You stay where I put you.
He's gasping when the car suddenly stops, and we are alone in the silence and the backlit emptiness of the End of the World. As if a spotlight shines on us from nowhere, Touga can see me, the car, and the cliff, and nothing more. For him there is nothing behind us and nothing in front of us. It hurts his precious blue eyes to look at nothing, so he looks at me. I should hurt his eyes, too, but in his mind, I am Something.
So much depends on the games their minds play with them.
Only now does Touga realize he's grabbed my shirt and is holding on to me for dear life. Touga is a beautiful boy, but vulnerability doesn't suit him. There is no beauty in his looking helpless. To cover for this, he begins to slide his hands up my chest.
I have him in my arms, and his long legs are draped over the hood of the cherry-red car that gleams sickly in the light from above. Everything here is washed out and over-lit. Even Touga's flawless skin, unequalled in pale softness, is sallow here. He looks ill and fevered as he tilts his face up to me.
"You want to be the Prince, Kiryuu Touga," I tell him, my lips bare inches from his. His eyes are closing, thinking he will be kissed. Touching him, manipulating his body makes him mine. The sensualist cannot say no to pleasure any more than the alcoholic can say no to wine. Anything new and dangerous excites him -- I am both, and this place is both, and his body understands that even if his mind does not yet.
"Isn't that what you're proposing?" Touga breathes, still waiting for me to kiss him. I do, finally, swift and brutal, not like the kisses he uses to lure. Touga needs to be overwhelmed and overcome if he is to be loyal. He needs to be fascinated to keep his attention on me.
I've ruffled his hair; he's breathless and mussed when I turn him around, making him look out over the precipice at the End of the World. Now he's in my lap, and I am intent on keeping him there. Touching him here, there, the under curve of his nipple, the concavity of his stomach, which will keep him tingling but alert. "Look. If you want the power to revolutionize the world, then look."
On my lap, he turned to face that deep black nothing eagerly. So great was his desire to the Prince, he would face even that which his mortal soul shied from. Touga was the perfect candidate to be my knight, but he would need further encouragement.
"Tell me what you see." My lips were close to his ear. I slide my hands under his open jacket, seeking those places that had proved his most sensitive. First his nipple, that he loved to tease when he tried to entice me. The smoothed flesh was soft and malleable in my fingers, just right for stroking and circling. At the same time I was teasing his navel and the very slight adolescent trail of hairs that dipped under his loosened trousers.
The pleasure weakened him as I knew it would, and it opened his eyes. Only through sensation would my Touga be able to see what he would see. Just what he was the only prediction I could not make.
"It's... Mr. Chairman!" Yes, he saw, as I could now see, the form emerging from the darkness. Red shadows spread, lighting blood-color silhouettes. "That girl... the swords... the Rose Bride??"
"Look," I told him, my hand sliding underneath his pants. "Look at what it means to be the Prince."
I could watch the scene through his eyes. I watched him envision the shadow of the bride straightening, the waves of her hair straightening into a long luscious fall, the tatters of her dress melding into the cloak of the Prince. I watched him behold the vision his mind created: the swords that pierced her becoming one sword, one great and powerful sword that the Touga-prince held aloft, his symbol of that power he so desired.
Touga was so terribly predictable in his phallic choice of symbolism.
Enough of this vision; he had seen enough to convince him. I pulled him down on the hood of the car, straddling him, looming over him. His bright red hair spread out over the hood, nearly the exact same color as the paint. His jacket askew, the startling white a sharp contrast to the deep red. His eyes were wide with surprise and the fever that overtakes the people who see the End of the World.
"You will be my Knight, Kiryuu Touga." His skin was satin-soft and petal-smooth under my hands. My rose, complete with thorns. Mine for the plucking. Mine to keep for myself forever, forever blossoming alongside my other multicolored roses. "You will bring the pawns to me, one by one. We need then to reach the Duel Named Revolution." Green, orange, blond, blue. He would pluck each lovely rose for me, to bloom alongside my lovely red, my eternal violet. "You only need to let me rule you. Let me be your King, you will be my Knight and I will make you the Prince."
Touga arched up over the hood of the car, his cries of "Yes, yes, Akio..." ringing across the End of the World.
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