Title: Cherry (Cherry Made of Blood~)
Pairing: Tyki x Lavi
Rating: M (HEED THE WARNINGS HEED THE WARNINGS HEED THE WARNINGS!)
For: D. Gray Man Kink meme (Second fic today?!)
Kink: no-con, bondage, use of food
Authors Note: Much darker than I original thought (not planned. I planned for it to be dark). Almost debated not uploading it here because of the content. Oh, and I hate cherries. Oh, also: BOLD = flashback speech for LAVI only. 'Italics' (with quotation marks, yes) = flashback speech for OTHER people (like Tyki)
WARNINGS: (other than what the kink implies) BLOOD, disturbing images, violence, abuse, mild language, hinting at incest, and Lavi's Eye Speculation ahead! PROCEDE WITH CAUTION!

….you're still here? Okay then…

Enjoy?

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The taste of cherries is what hits him first. It's coating, and pungent, nearly overpowering, but not quite, and it fills each of his sense to the brim. He doesn't even understand it, or at least, not as much as he should, when he pries his eyes open and is seeing red.

Or at least, he probably should. He saw the bodies before he left, of those he tried so desperately to save.

(Desperate, huh? Talk about being desperate when he really ought not to be)

They had been folded and stacked like so many before, and burned in a funeral pyre as they suffered. He remembered the image perfectly, of the sobbing tears soaking his shoulder. So many innocents had been lost…
And all he smelled were cherries.

And all he saw was black. Black that looked red, and smells that shouldn't be menacing but were.

Wafting in, around the room; light as perfume a woman would wear to some elegant dance. But Lavi had seen too many of those. Too many that ended with the very same woman stained in blood.

He blocked the red out, taking a deep breath.

The cherries didn't smell so sweet anymore. If he concentrated, he could smell cigarette smoke as well, and ashes. Coming from the left, and getting closer.

He exhaled through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut again; not that it mattered, he knew that much. He was blindfolded—why would it matter? He could see red even through his eyelids, and though it vanished nearly immediately that one split second was enough.

He let out a cough when the putrid smell grew stronger, and immediately he flinched when he felt a center of warmness press dangerously close to his right ear.

"Goodness you're quiet." It was a small comfort that he recognized the voice, amused, speculative, curious, and dark.

"Tyki." He said plainly, lips working forcefully against each other to create sound from a throat that was too sore.

"I wasn't expecting that." The man continued as if he had never heard him, "The 'loud mouth redhead' that Rhode had fun breaking? That's really you?" For a moment the smell of cherries and smoke and ash and sweat and numerous other things grew to rapid levels…

But then he should have expected that too, as the blind fold was removed, leaving him to stare at the well sculpted face of his captor.

And that smile. Lavi half expected there to be a cigarette sealed between his lips, but he supposed it was currently crushed against the wall by his ear. Supposed, of course, no fact. It wasn't like he could turn his head that far anyway.

"Well, are you?" The man questioned, jolting Lavi away from concerning thoughts, his free hand running admirably along the cool metal that bound his wrists above his head, "That boy? Are you?"

Lavi scowled, "And what if I am?" Defiance clear and resound and hoarse.
Tyki raised an eloquent eyebrow, lips stretching just so, "What if you are, hmm?" He hummed, free hand tracing along his arm (thankfully he still had his Exorcist Jacket on) to his shoulder, to grip at the bunched fabric there, "Do you know? It was quite the little stunt you pulled."

Lavi blinked at him, confused for nearly half a second before his chin was jerked up farther than it should.

"Such a smart cocky boy, aren't you?" The man's voice lowered to a hiss, and Lavi could smell cherries on his breath, "And your friends too?" A tongue coated with cherry, lapped out, Lavi tried to jerk his head away.

"So very smart." The man let go of his jaw long enough to force one glove through his hand, to show the cross like scar there, "Isn't it? See? It's still painful." There was something almost wistful in the man's voice; Lavi couldn't quite place the meaning.

Not that he wanted to.

He exhaled sharply, instead, "So?" His words weren't slurring as much, and he knew he just might get punished for it, "You can't say ya didn't deserve it, neh?" And the queer uptilt of lips was so unlike "Lavi" he was sure he would have bruises.

But Tyki simply stared at him, contemplative, eyes focusing, blurring, then focusing again—

And that smile was back.

"I thought I deserved to be dead after that." Again wistful. Lavi felt like choking, "It's better in comparison…do you know the pain I've been in?"

Lavi didn't turn away when the man touched his face, but jolted again as the fingertips brushed against his eye patch and the secret hiding there. Lavi felt a shiver run down his spine that he tried to suppress, but of course, the man noticed.

He noticed, and smiled, "I suppose not, hm? You're not much of a boy, are you?" He was thrown slightly, with that comment, and the other glove phased easily through his hand.

"You don't quite fit in with them, and you're so quiet."

Cherries, cherries, cherries

Lavi felt like spitting in the man's face, but didn't. His mask wasn't that weak, was it?

"What the heck do ya expect? Me to sit here blabbin' my mouth when you can jus' as easily gut me?" He snapped instead, hoping to show more of his usual persona.

It might have worked. Hell, he hoped it worked.

"Well yes, I suppose that's true." The chuckle he received didn't help his answer along any, "I could just as easily, couldn't I? But then I wouldn't have near as much fun." The fingers traced easily over his skin, sending jolts of unnerving emotion through his nerves, to tingle in places it shouldn't, but did anyway.

His body wouldn't listen to him, as the man leaned in once more, forgoing any sense of personal space and tracing a tongue coated red and sweet, and sugary, along his lips.

Lavi squeezed his eye(s) shut. He saw red again, thick and staining on his fingertips as the tongue forced its way in his mouth, head tilting at dangerous levels.

"Goodness you're being difficult." He was glad when the human warmth left, when his breathing wasn't so rough and blocked.

Slowly he opened his eyes, to watch the man shift away, lighting another cigarette. It almost reminded him of Bookman; except he was sure he wasn't addicted. Maybe. Possibly.

"You aren't making this fun for me." The man murmured, tossing the lighter off somewhere behind him, but Lavi could only focus on that face, the turn of lips into a slight frown, and the feeling of darkened dread curling its way into wakefulness at the base of his stomach.

He swallowed, but it sounded too loud.

"And you're being too quiet again," Lavi decided he didn't like it when the man's head turned at that angle, "you really aren't like they say, at all." His nose scrunched up at the smell of burning ashes, as the man leaned in for the third time, puffing the smoke and making his eyes sting.

"It's interesting."

For once in his life, Lavi didn't want to be interesting.

"I wonder what would make you talk?" The man hummed, tapping his chin almost thoughtfully.

Lavi scowled, "I can talk jus' fine."

"Of course." But the man almost seemed to be ignoring him. Lavi's scowl deepened, as he watched the man's glazed over eyes—golden and bright even in the faded darkness—for any sort of cue. He was good at reading emotions, never said anything about being empathetic towards them, but…

"Ah, I know~" The man's lips twisted again, as an 'innocent' (like the man could ever be) expression formed. Curious, curious.

And the smell of cherries. Lavi had almost forgotten it.

"I wonder, Exorcist." Lavi flinched as Tyki moved away, "Do you like sweet things?"

No, the Moyashi does Lavi immediately wanted to state, but it wasn't like that would help matters much. He didn't want to drag them into this, he knew they would be worried enough, and honestly? He didn't need to know they were hurt.

Even if he wasn't supposed to care.

"Well, do you?" The man quipped, "Because I certainly have something wonderful you could try."

"Like I'd try it." He snapped almost immediately, lips setting in a further frown. He couldn't help but be curious, though. Maybe just a little.

"Oh come now, it's not like it'd kill you." Lavi raised an eyebrow, the man laughed, "Really, it wouldn't."

"Most poisons are sweet."

"And you would know that."

Lavi flinched.

The man laughed again, the chuckle turning to an amused glance, and a sigh, "Oh but don't worry, it wouldn't do any good poisoning you." He crushed the cigarette bud into the ground, "Much like Rhode, I love playing with my victims."

Lavi glared, "More like rip their heart out?"

"Oh, I only tried to do that to Allen," his expression turned oddly sour, "For you I think it would do better to take out a lung, just to watch you suffer a little. Or maybe your eye." His hand reached out again, to touch the eye patch, "Since it's obvious you don't use it." His finger traced over the bridge of his nose to the other one, "Or maybe this one?" Lavi squeezed his eyes shut, "wouldn't that be a bigger blow?"

Lavi swallowed, "So? I'd just be blind."

"But you couldn't watch things." The reply was very much duller than he expected, "Isn't that what a Bookman does?" A rhetorical question. Lavi could only wish, and calm his breathing as the man pulled his fingers away.

"It's more than just eyesight." He murmured, instead, knowing full well it might not be the best idea to divulge the man of this information, "ya don't really think th' old man'd fill all his time assumin' I'd use my eyes for everythin' did ya?"

"I would assume not." The Noah clucked his tongue, "But as I was saying," he paused, cocking his head once more to the side, "you must be hungry." It wasn't a question. It was a fact.

"Like I'd eat anything you'd give me." Lavi spat, looking away, feeling his muscles begin to tense from their prolonged stationary state.

"Of course not." The Noah stood, briefly, stretching his limbs in an almost languid motion, making Lavi suddenly jealous of his supposed free reign, "But you will be. Might as well treat you."

"To what?"

The man snapped his fingers, and really, Lavi was almost a bit disturbed that he hadn't noticed. He should have noticed an Akuma, shouldn't he? As it floated rather cautiously next to the Noah, almost afraid that the man would attack him at any moment. It held a tray in its thin, piano-like hands, and it—in the body of a she of course, in a nice little maid outfit too—was shivering from head to toe. Blushing too, as it kept glancing at him and the Noah. Like it knew something.

It made Lavi's stomach drop to think of what that small piece of information could possibly be. Did he really want to know?

Tyki took the tray easily, and the silver container that rested on it was opened. Lavi was seeing red, even in the dark, and the overpowering smell of cherries hit him again.

"I had these specially prepared upon your arrival." It was disgusting how polite Tyki was suddenly being, as he lifted a cherry high in the air, and placed it against his lips. Lavi watched almost helplessly as the man bit off the small red fruit, and tossed the stem off to the side somewhere.

He was dimly aware that the Akuma had disappeared. Not that it mattered.

"You should try one." He jerked his head away when Tyki bent down and held one cherry up to his face. He couldn't deny that it definitely was a cherry. But something seemed infinitely odd about it.

Something he didn't like. Not at all.

"No thanks." He managed out, only to be silenced when Tyki forced the fruit against his lips.

"Oh come now, that's no way to be." The man hummed, and Lavi really wished he could bite the man's fingers off as the fruit continued (even though he had closed his lips and teeth against it) its path into his mouth. The man purposely ran it along his tongue, making him gag, before dipping it far enough back in his throat—he had to swallow it.

And he felt like he was going to be sick.

It definitely was a cherry.

But.

"Do you like it?" The man asked, almost humorously, but of the wrong kind, watching his expression in amusement.

Immediately Lavi tried to mask whatever expression he had been making, and instead spat at the man, "No." He tried, but it coated the flavor along the roof of his mouth.

He recognized the taste.

He didn't want to recognize the taste.

"Oh? It looks like you do." The man let out a darker chuckle, "It tastes different, no?"

No.

"Would you like to know what's so different about it?"

No, no, no

Another cherry was lifted, but unlike the others, Tyki just held it suspended in the air, letting the liquid drip off it, and onto the ground.

It was too red.

Too thick.

Lavi felt his stomach heave.

Tyki's lips spread even further as another drop fell and splattered against the stone floor, "Ah, you see now?" he hummed, taking the cherry and eating it without any hint of disgust. Then, as if to dramatize the action, he ran his tongue along his lips, "these cherries are unique, aren't they?"

Unique?

Lavi felt like he might gag, but held it in, "I guess you could call it that." He said instead, breathlessly as his stomach began to churn.

At the very least he regained some confidence in the rather shocked expression on the Noah's face, but it was quickly wiped away, replaced with a leer that was definitely not friendly.

Not that he expected anything about this meeting to be friendly.

"You really are full of surprises today, aren't you?" The man hummed, taking another cherry from the dish and holding it out, "I almost feel left out, you know? After all, what kind of host would I be if I couldn't entertain my guests?"

Lavi didn't like the prospect. Didn't like the Noah getting ever closer with the cherry, because he knew the liquid. He had seen the very liquid on the battlefield, spilling from countless numbers of bodies that he had been refused to forget.

He tried to turn his head away as the cherry was pressed against his lips, but it did no good, the man forced his chin back--and grinned--"Now, now, refusing would be a bad idea~"

"Like you really expect me to eat it now." It had been a mistake to talk, and he knew it.

But it made the Noah laugh regardless, low, and lustful, and he felt a knot form. It was hard to swallow.

The cherry didn't help.

"You have to swallow it." Tyki reminded him, lips twitching to a grin, "If you swallow it like a good boy, I won't make you eat anymore."

Lavi wasn't sure if that was a good prospect or not. But on reflex he began to swallow, and the cherry, and the liquid, ran down, and he wondered how Krory could handle the taste. Coppery, and disgusting, with a hint of cherry.

Cherry, cherry, cherry

He wouldn't be able to look at the fruit after this. He knew it.

And he shouldn't have flinched away at the touch either, when the Noah began to trace his jaw, throat, to make sure he swallowed. That made another laugh, bright and dark and the shivers weren't something he wanted to deal with.

"Good boy," the man hummed appreciatively, "Though I suppose I should ease your worries a bit, shouldn't I?" He set the container of cherries down on the floor, and Lavi watched as one hand came up and loosened the first few buttons of the man's dress shirt.

"Does it matter?" He spat, jerking one eye away to focus on anything but the man in front of him, but the blackness was deafening too deep, and dark, and cold, he couldn't keep the shivers away, even when an all too warm hand slipped through his shirt to touch bare flesh.

"It might." The man murmured, tracing a still healing wound, "But then, it might not. You lost blood you know?"

Lost blood?

"I figured this would be an ample way to give it back."

Lavi stared down at the man, eyes widening.

The cherries…?

"Had them specially filled and dipped in your blood." The man grinned up at him, fingernails scratching into flesh, and Lavi barely had time to gasp at the foreign sensation of fabric being pulled through him—

And suddenly he was cold. Chilled. Lying, now shirtless, against the wall.

He barely had time for his eyes to widen before the man was laughing again, and tracing again, "Goodness you're hard to please." Something in his voice sounded disappointed, "Most people would be revolted by that knowledge, you know? Eating their own blood like that." Golden eyes flashed up to meet his, "But then I suppose it's silly to think you're normal, isn't it?"

He didn't like the hands placed on his thighs, he was too vulnerable now and he hated it. Despised it, and really? He had no luck. Rabbits had luck.

Stupid nickname.

He almost showed relief when the hands traveled back up, to cup his face, "Just like we are the children of Noah, you," he traced the edges of his face, nails curling slightly, "are an apostle of God. But not only an Apostle." Lavi slid his eye closed as he felt the Noah trace it.

"You are the heir to the Neutral Clan. The third branch, I suppose." Lavi tensed when he felt the finger slip through skin, through him and he almost panicked. Almost.

"The Earl won't say much," the hands were impossibly tracing and uncomfortable and Lavi wanted to pull away but it was all too possible for the man to do something, "but you know, the reason you will survive? You will choose our side eventually."

Then pain and the man was shoving him against the wall—head cracking back against the stone, and his eyes shot open more than they should, but no scream came—no scream, no—

The last thing he saw was a grin. Then his vision swam, and the darkness seemed to swallow him, and he was swimming in a sea of black, where scary things went to hide and jump out at you when you least expect it, where the Black Order hid their worst experiments that he always ended up finding anyway--

And his head hurt. He couldn't keep it above water, the water that was lapping at his face, as he struggled to breathe, and he felt stuffed, and near panicking, and he knew for a fact that there was always a surface.

Always.

He just couldn't see it.

Then suddenly his mouth was being forced open, and something poured in, to dribble over, down his chin warm and wet and unwanted.

"Would you calm down?" A muffled familiarity again, but uncomforting and—"Really now, if you struggle this will only hurt worse." And he realized a moment too late as his back hit something warm, and unlike a cold wall—

It was a mattress. Soft, with downy feathers, and expensive fabric of satin, cool but not painfully so, and the unpleasant weight off to his side could only be another body.

His hands were still bound, the fabric coarse, unlike bed sheets, but no longer were his arms suspended overhead.

"Goodness you're jumpy." He arched away from the touch, as a fingernail traced a line down his side. He received a chuckle in the right ear that never quite made it to the left, and he hated the fact that the man was on his blind side.

"Calm down, for just a moment, would you?" A warm hand pressed then, on the flat of his stomach, an arm brushing—no. No sleeves. No fabric…

Lavi's mind began work a mile a minute. Non-stop. The man had his shirt off, and the mattress was dipping on one side of his head (A hand he decided, swallowing). Thankfully he still felt fabric brush against fabric as the mattress dipped between his legs, and soon the other hand was next to his face, and a dark chuckled breath swept dangerously close to his lips.

"See? Was that so hard?" The man murmured, and Lavi almost wanted to prove him wrong, to turn his head to the side, but a dull throb at the base of his skull told him that wouldn't be for the best.

What had he done?

"And you really thought I was a rude host, didn't you?" He felt a finger trace the edge of his ear and shuddered, "See? We're somewhere nice, now, can you guess where?" The man was taunting him, "You know you can open your eye and see for yourself, don't you?"

His stomach clenched painfully at that.

Eye?

"Or would it do any good?" Another chuckle and a pair of lips. A chaste kiss. Chapped lips against smooth ones and the hint of cigarette smoke.
The scent of cherries, still there, vague on the others breath, with the bitterness, and when the tongue lapped out Lavi reacted on instinct—eye opening, vision swimming but—nothing.

Nothing

Nothing.

Black

He didn't have time to panic before he felt the same hand trace, but this time his eye patch. His breath hitched.

"I told you it wouldn't do any good." The man chuckled mirthfully, pulling away. Lavi could hear the wet sound of tongue against lips, as the mattress dipped and shifted, "Or would it? Don't worry, I haven't entirely blinded you."

Fingers pressed against his eye patch, along the band holding it, and snap

"Unless you really are blind in this eye, in which I truly am very sorry."The man added on as an afterthought, as he slid the familiar feeling away, and allowed warm fresh air to hit skin that had been covered for so long.

Lavi couldn't remember the last time.

But then maybe he could, with a shudder. Or at least his body remembered and right now it was enough.

Keep it hidden but his arms were bound.

Turn your face the Noah didn't allow that, one hand gripping at his chin, nails digging into flesh, but not hard enough to draw blood.

"Is it that bad?" And the curious tint of the voice almost hurt. Almost, "Is that what this scar is from?" He tried to flinch at the applied pressure the Noah gave.

Too gentle

Too sickening

"Did you lose your voice along with your eyesight?" The man mocked a moment later, fingers pulling away, "It would be quite sad, wouldn't it?" the hand dipped farther and—

"I would love to hear you moan, but then I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

Cherries and a kiss pressed against his stomach. Against his chest, neck, cheek, eyelid—

"Open?" He felt the breathy tone, the brush of lips, again too soft and perverse, and a tongue darting out.

He just squeezed his eye tighter. And maybe he could curse himself for slipping up, for acting like it wasn't hurt, because if he hadn't then the man above him wouldn't be interested and he wouldn't be hiding and—

"You always did say eyesight wasn't the only thing keeping you as a Bookman, didn't you?" The Noah hummed, lips still pressing against his eyelid, "But they are important, aren't they? Useful? You must be in pain over losing this one, but," a pause as a hand traced the other eyelid.

"I always love playing with my victims" A murmur, "And I can't help but be curious." Lavi didn't like where the hand was trailing again, "I would like to see."

Like to see? Like to see?

I don't want it. Because he had never wanted that eye. He would rather be blind than—

"If you don't show it to me willingly I might just have to rip it out." Lavi tensed.

You may not want it Bookman's voice rang clear in his mind, But it is useful. We do not throw away useful things. But for now, you may hide it He had sounded so tired back then, and now even more so. Lavi had always been curious of how many wars the man had seen.

But now wasn't the time.

He would ask the old panda when he got back.

But for his sake, no, he couldn't.

As much as he wanted—that was selfish.

It's been too many years since I've recorded this Another raspy voice of memories, And even then it wasn't so…oh! This is amazing! You really have found the lucky one haven't you?

Bile rose in the back of his throat as slowly, painfully, he allowed his eye to open. And in the clarity he wished he didn't have, he saw him. The man above him, and the keen interest in perfected by imperfection features.

And then the memories hit him, keen as poison tipped needles, sharp and thorough and deadly.

A boy, watching, wide eyed, blooded, as another went insane—flaying flesh, blood splattering on floors, screams and more screams and laughter.

A hand on his chest almost snapped him out of it, as the brief memory recorded and locked and wrapped and twined around in the forefront of his mind.

He barely noticed the bloody kiss until he received the tongue, brushing against the roof of his mouth, and his eyes slid shut again.

And the pain was so acutely different that when the man's hands reached between them, he didn't quite care as much as he should have.

"Such an interesting eye," The man murmured in his ear, and he heard a zipper come undone, "Why do you hide it? Is it because it's a different shade?" Lavi didn't want to answer that, he could only wonder why the man was going slow, instead of just ripping them off, or making them fall through skin. Either would have been just as easy but--

The man realized this, "Oh come now, as I said, I won't be a bad host to my handsome guest," Lavi already knew his boots must have been discarded some time ago, as the man worked his pants down his legs, brushing more than needed against skin, "and I'm supposing you won't answer my previous question?"

Lavi turned his face away, his truly blind side (Don't think about it) facing the man. The bedspread didn't have any bad memories, did it? For all he knew it just saw this man sleeping in it, because…where was he again? Most likely in the Earl's stronghold. Like he'd take any normal bed partners there.

So he opened his eye a little more readily this time.

And almost regretted it.

Red. Red. Red. And not just cherry red.

And a grunt of pain, and breathy whispers, 'This is highly inappropriate brother.' and the man he saw in the vision was back again, pinning not him, but Tyki down.

And there was blood.

'But you're bleeding brother!'

'I didn't say you had to—'

Lavi squeezed his eye shut before the memory could continue.

He legs were being spread now. Or had been, but the hands on his knees had halted the movement, and he could feel a curious gaze on him.

"Your eye really isn't normal, is it?" He couldn't help but notice not only the…he wouldn't call it pure, the question could never be pure with what he saw, but it was definitely innocent, and the loose phrasing…

He let out a gasp.

Just a distraction He wanted to grin but it hurt too much as something long and wet probed inside.

"I wonder what you see." Like this was normal conversation, Lavi felt his breath hitch, as warmth of another's body was suddenly too close, too acute to miss and—

"Can you tell me what you see?" A free hand had come to turn his face again, as the other worked, and it was almost hypocritical that the man would take the pretense of worry when Lavi was more than sure the man didn't give a rat's ass about him.

It was better that way, as another finger joined one, and the scissoring motion began.

"Fine then, blame me for being curious."

And the words slipped out then, "B-Blame you…for letting your brother do this to you." He more than heard the intake of breath.

He more than heard ten different things as his head was turned—eye snapping open and—

The kiss wasn't easy.

The tongue wasn't gentle.

"You don't know that." Deadly golden met bright green. Locked. Curiosity, "But then maybe you do." The man changed his mind.

The image flashed again.

A blood soaked room. An insane man, '*** are you sure?' An insane smile, one he saw too much of, 'Of course I am'. And a boy off in the corner, darkened stigma, with darkened skin, staring blankly at nothing.

"So that's what it is?" Lavi jolted as another finger joined the others, like he was something to be stuffed and filled so easily, but it snapped him back to the present, and maybe he was a little more than grateful, "You…see things, like that boy?"

No. It wasn't anything like that ability.

"No?" A particularly hard thrust, and Lavi keened lowly in his throat. He didn't need to see to feel the other man's smirk, he could feel it pressed to the skin of his lower stomach, "Then…memories?"

He squeezed his eyes tighter as fingers thrust in again. Another sound. This time a—

Oh God not that he believed or anything.

"Ah, that then?" A hand on his face again, a shift, a movement, and suddenly he was face first in the pillows, heat soaking in through his back as the other man leaned against him.

A tongue, coated, traced his ear and he almost shivered, but gagged at the smell of cherries so close, "Well…then do you see?" He murmured lowly, huskily into his neck, "How many people I've fucked into this bed?"

The crude terminology didn't help any. It really, really didn't.

"Because I have. Willing or not." Though his hands were bound and sore he could still grab, just barely, at the sheets, he knew what was coming. He knew and he didn't want it but then, it was better than seeing with the wafting cherries and the man he didn't want sympathy for, from, or to.

So he screamed, when the man took him. Warmer, hotter, burning, and painful, each nerve set ablaze in an almost cliché way.
He didn't need it.

But it was better than seeing and that was all that mattered now, and he knew it. He could sort, analyze, and shove away everything later, when it all came crashing down.

But now, with everything so clear, and not so clear, he preferred the fuzziness. The overdriven emotions, the man over him pounding, being rough because he just so happened to be the one to do the questioning, and he had to wonder at what stroke of luck he got himself into this mess to begin with.

And the bloodied bodies. Those too.

And fires burning.

Shoulders wet with tears.

White, black, blue.

The heat inside blazed brighter, as another moan ripped from his throat. Because this? This was nothing.

"So…convenient…wouldn't it…be?" The man hissed in his ear.

Cherries.

He couldn't bring himself to answer.

"You had…something like…that, hmm? Then maybe you could see the truth, hmm?" a particularly sharp thrust robbed him of any noise whatsoever, and as much as he tried to hold onto the thread of conversation Tyki was somehow having—he couldn't.

"…years ago." Then a chuckle, "Oh but I suppose…now isn't the time, is it?" another chuckle, and a kiss, nip, lick, to the back of his neck.

And Lavi felt closer to that one thing than he ever wanted, especially with this man. This Noah, and he knew it was his job to remain neutral, and he was, he didn't feel any sympathy for the man who he had just accidentally seen memories of.

But it wasn't because he was neutral.

It w—

Suddenly he was flipped on his back, with the Noah above him, pounding harder—faster—he was sure he was bleeding and that made his stomach churn—and the smell of cherries—and—

His eyes were open.

He saw that too.

Screaming faces. Screaming, screaming. Then the face of a small boy, barely eleven, with a mask over his mouth, and two others, and-- 'Terribly sorry.' But there was pain in the memory. Pain and Lavi had to wonder why but—

One particularly hard thrust later had him seeing too much white, and he was seeing white. Pure, untainted, white.

But red, and cherries and smells, and darkness, and memories, as he came crashing back down to earth, battered, and maybe a little uneven, on a bed, with a man and it all wouldn't have felt so wrong—

If he had a say.

And he hated the weight that fell on him a moment later, and the predictable wetness inside, and the stains between his thighs, as the man pulled out. Maybe he would leave, he didn't know, he could still hear his breathing, and the mattress still dipped and shifted with added weight.

And his eyes?

They remained closed, as the scent of cherries filled the air and he felt a hand tug a little, to get him upright. He heard the sound of jostling in a nearby cabinet, and then he felt the cool edge of a knife against skin.

And the words: "Don't worry, I won't kill you."

He didn't quite believe them, but he did, and kept his eyes shut against the dull throb, "Now if you need anything." He felt the knife retract, "Just call. There are plenty enough Akuma around, and I'm quite certain they won't kill you." Then the mattress dipped again, and Lavi was more than aware he could move his wrists.

"Oh, but I can't let you leave just yet." He was shifted as well, he realized, to sitting position, and suddenly something cool wrapped around his eyes, "I'll get in grievous amounts of trouble if I do. But I suppose this will do." Something tied in the back and Lavi almost wondered what it was, before he could contemplate, however, the man told him, "To keep you from seeing things. I suppose."

And it was such a nicety.

If he really gave a damn. Which he didn't.

Really. He didn't.

******************************

(X Amount of Time Later)

The darkness was breeched for nearly half a second, and he was seeing red again, but a different sort of red. The bandages had come off at some point, he hadn't remembered how, or really why, he had only heard his captors pain-filled voice, and then it was there. Seeing red, against the carpet, as Tyki leaned against the wall, giving the barest of shudders.

He should have felt glad at the man's demise—if the man was truly dead--but his focus was torn from that a split moment later (away from the screaming child, and brother, on the streets and men surrounding them. He had gotten used to Tyki's memories)

He almost wished he had the bandages again, as he saw who was standing there.

Allen it was Allen. But then it was younger Allen too, crying at the grave of someone long since dead, and it was really all too intimate.

"Lavi?" The voice too smooth and foreign in the quiet. He could hear other footsteps too, behind him.

"What…?" And then Lenalee's voice, and she was there too (thoughts of suicide banged around in his head. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help her), "Lavi!" Equally gasped surprise. He had learned the carpet well enough to feel it compress under footsteps, even from across the room. He could easily tell their footsteps without looking, as hands reached out (Lenalee's—soft--) to touch his face.

"Your eyes." For a split moment their voices mimicked, concern, worry, fear, disgust.

"What…what happened to your eyes?"

Because it was plural now, wasn't it?

He wanted to laugh

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And I really can't believe I wrote that. I blame the fever.

...Review if you want. Don't blame you if you don't.