Key of Thorns

Summary: She kept her promise the first time, and she was always eager to give him more.

I adore these two, okay? They're just so much fun to watch.

And I will be working on Ultimate Amiss again shortly, just hit a brick in the road. So no, I haven't abandoned it.

She's smirking at him when he enters the room, the blood on his cheek still warm from where the bullet had grazed his skin. Her eyes tell him that she's happy, satisfied with the way things worked out; the Student Council killing each other just like she had predicted, and that moment of surprise he had felt when he heard the gun go off.

The possibility that he might die in that moment, but-

Of course, it had barely touched him. The student had been dead, it was just that last wish to kill him that was processed through his brain, sent out among his nerves that caused the trigger to be pulled. The gun happened to be pointing towards his head, but it hadn't been aimed at him, not properly.

Still, it produced that one moment where he couldn't be sure what was going to happen; that he actually couldn't predict, and it had been a rush.

Then, now everything is back to how it was before, except that hunger in him: for something new. For despair.

Izuru knows it must show in his eyes now, as Junko is jumping up from her seat, saying just what he would expect of her in this situation. "How did it feel? Amazing, right? I told you you wouldn't be bored with me around." Junko came to a stop in front of him, blue eyes bright and shining as she leaned in so her lips were almost touching his. "I can keep the excitement coming."

He didn't reply, her 'subtle' innuendos among other things were hardly unexpected, and frankly he didn't care for the way she stepped closer to him. So ecstatic, as if finding a new pet.

"Hey," she breathed directly into his right ear. "Can you tell me how it felt?" Her hands locked onto his arm as she pressed herself against his side. "That taste of despair I gave you." One of her bare legs ran up his clothed leg, then down, then back up as she pressed closer to him. So that her lips were on the shell of his ear. The fingers on his arm curled in, those sharp bright red nails slipping into his flesh. "Please," she whined when he still hadn't said anything, rubbing her pelvis directly against his hip, her skirt was beginning to rise a bit in the process so that it was her panties pressed to him. Thinner, wet-

He twisted his arm, slamming it forward so that Junko was no longer pressed to his side, practically rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat. Now she was on her back, boots grazing the chair she had sat in previously, that Cheshire smile still present on her lips as she looked up at him from the ground.

There was blood trailing down his arm from where her nails had dug in, the force and speed at which he had moved dragging them through his skin like thorns, his blood blooming outward behind them. It stung.

Junko was laughing from her position on the ground. "Was that it? I'll need to show you something even better then, won't I?"

When she retracted her claws from his arm he watched as she stood up, stretching out her limbs as if he hadn't just thrown her. Considering how fast she seemed to recover even when he had stomped on her skull twice the first day they met... he wasn't surprised when she launched herself at him a moment later.

The main mass of her body crashed into his chest, so he hit the ground a second later as her legs locked themselves against his body, as she sat atop his chest. Izuru didn't even blink when she reached down, palms pressed flat against his cheeks, fingers spread over his skin: her thumbs placed right beneath his eyes, as if she were about to gouge them out.

"What do you think? About destroying the world together? Every person out to serve themselves. A world-wide mutual killing game."

"It just sounds like more of the same," he replied, voice flat.

She erupted into giggles above him, falling forward to tip to the side at the last moment. Her lips skimmed his as she rested her head against his shoulder, her body pressed right up against his. The warmth of her body seeping into his as she laid on top of him, whispering in his ear about how he was 'born', how glad she is that Hajime Hinata existed. How perfect he was - must have been - to create Izuru. All those imperfections he - his own parents - didn't like about him, were the cause of it. Hajime Hinata was perfect, and Izuru Kamukura was just the pile of scraps taken from that perfection, after it was all torn out of him.