[ D. Gray-man ] Fiery Days
Jan. 14th, 2008 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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cemetery_thingsONE of SIXTEEN for 16candle_fics
+ Title: Fiery Days
+ Fandom: D. Gray-man
+ Characters: Tiki Mick, Debitt
+ Rating: OT
+ Word Count: 994
16candle_fics+ Title: Fiery Days
+ Fandom: D. Gray-man
+ Characters: Tiki Mick, Debitt
+ Rating: OT
+ Word Count: 994
Jasdero had been dragged away by Rhode to play elsewhere in the house, leaving his brother twinless and wandering around like a lost puppy with a revolver. Even Lero was languishing, lying in the umbrella rack with his eyes half-closed. It would usually have been far too easy to screw with the golem’s head, but today it was too much effort to even lift a gun, let around actually point it at someone. Debitt raised a hand to his brow with a groan, wiping the sheen of sweat from his skin. Sharp blinking only barely kept the perspiration from burning his eyes, a sneeze escaping the boy as a stray droplet tickled the end of his nose. “Damn it!” Debitt snarled, furiously running his hands through sweat-soaked hair in some attempt to make the weather just go away.
“Keep it down, twins.” It was an irritated voice, floating through the open door of the kitchen with a slight taste of alcohol and Portuguese slipping into the tone. Tiki… Debitt walked toward the patio door with his same crawling pace, shoes clicking on the wood slats of the porch with a sharp sound. The elder Noah was reclined in some imagery of deity, a bottle of wine in one hand while a cigarette rested in the other, shirt discarded in a sweaty ball of fabric while his shoes were thrown akimbo to separate corners of the deck. His muscled chest was bare, the only clothing left on his body a pair of cutoff peasant trousers, frayed fabric brushing his knees as a hot wind moved across the sky.
“Jasdero’s playing with Rhode.” It was a grudging admittance, despite his best attempts at sounding tough, but Tiki didn’t seem to mind the façade of the statement. He didn’t even open his eyes, simply tapping a finger on the arm of his chair. Debitt knew when he was being called; the boy slunk over to Tiki’s side, sliding to sit with his back against the chair. It was too hot to argue and be coy, and Tiki seemed to appreciate the lack of protest, lazily running one hand through the boy’s hair as the cigarette rested between his lips. Debitt tilted his head back with a sigh, eyes closing as he enjoyed the affections. He could smell alcohol and smoke in the air, baking together in a strange scent as Tiki took a sip of wine.
“You need to drink something, or you’ll be dehydrated.” His tone was lazy, absolutely no concern in the tone as he released a long exhale of smoke into the air. “The last thing you need is heat stroke.” Those caramel, tapered fingers were trailing their way behind Debitt’s ear, finding the vein in his neck and tracing a tickling touch over the skin.
Debitt shivered a bit, a chill of unwanted excitement running down his frame. He didn’t see the elder Noah’s smirk, an amused expression. “What are you drinking?” The question was entirely innocent, but Tiki seemed to find the inquiry quite funny. The Noah laughed aloud, actually sitting straight in his seat and leaning over to look into Debitt’s face.
“Aren’t you just a little connoisseur?” He smiled at the bare line of gold that showed between the boy’s eyelids, an idea in his mind as he tapped his cigarette out and let the butt retreat to the ashtray. “Let’s play a game…” Tiki held the bottle of wine up to the light, a smile lingering in his eyes. “Close your eyes, and I’ll let you have a bit. You tell me what you taste, and if you get it right…” The hand moved to the top of Debitt’s shirt, sensually tracing his collarbone and making the boy shiver yet again. “I’ll give you a treat.”
Debitt opened his mouth to refuse, sounding just a bit petulant as he spoke. “It’s too damn hot to play, Ti-“ He was cut off by a sharp burn of alcohol in his throat and lips pressed to his, eyes opening in surprise as the wine and heat flooded his senses. The boy made a soft whine of protest into the kiss, the noise quickly changing to one of pleasure as fangs brushed his lips and a tongue explored his mouth with sly intent. He returned the kiss, the wine’s flavors swirling in his mouth and soul and eyes like a taste of hell and heaven in one damnable devil’s embrace. Tiki drew back before he’d had enough, on purpose- Tease, Debitt wanted to snap, but his head was spinning and the world was all cold alcohol and gentle touches, heavy breaths and heated groin.
Tiki smiled, deviance in his expression as he stared into the Debitt’s eyes. “What does it taste like, then?” He said it softly, hands holding his face still as he brushed those poison lips against the boy’s forehead. Debitt couldn’t quite catch his breath, trying to form words and place the flavors without losing his control.
“Blood…” He barely whispered the word, but the single breath made Tiki jerk back in surprise, smile gone.
“What?”
“The wine tastes like berries…” The gold eyes opened, staring up into Tiki’s shocked face with dazed indifference. “And you taste like blood.”
Tiki let his hands fall from the boy’s face, suddenly looking a bit disdainful as he settled back in his chair. A fresh cigarette appeared from seemingly nowhere, lit with resentment as he took a deep breath. “Get out of here, brat.”
Debitt didn’t need to be told twice; He scrambled to his feet, disappearing inside with a knot of nerves in his stomach. That hadn’t been the right thing to say, he knew, but when he glanced back toward the door Tiki didn’t seem to be mad at all. There was just… a sad expression on his face, watching the smoke drift away into the heat.
“Blood.” It was a huff of dismissal, letting the annoyance disappear. “Stupid brat…”
“Keep it down, twins.” It was an irritated voice, floating through the open door of the kitchen with a slight taste of alcohol and Portuguese slipping into the tone. Tiki… Debitt walked toward the patio door with his same crawling pace, shoes clicking on the wood slats of the porch with a sharp sound. The elder Noah was reclined in some imagery of deity, a bottle of wine in one hand while a cigarette rested in the other, shirt discarded in a sweaty ball of fabric while his shoes were thrown akimbo to separate corners of the deck. His muscled chest was bare, the only clothing left on his body a pair of cutoff peasant trousers, frayed fabric brushing his knees as a hot wind moved across the sky.
“Jasdero’s playing with Rhode.” It was a grudging admittance, despite his best attempts at sounding tough, but Tiki didn’t seem to mind the façade of the statement. He didn’t even open his eyes, simply tapping a finger on the arm of his chair. Debitt knew when he was being called; the boy slunk over to Tiki’s side, sliding to sit with his back against the chair. It was too hot to argue and be coy, and Tiki seemed to appreciate the lack of protest, lazily running one hand through the boy’s hair as the cigarette rested between his lips. Debitt tilted his head back with a sigh, eyes closing as he enjoyed the affections. He could smell alcohol and smoke in the air, baking together in a strange scent as Tiki took a sip of wine.
“You need to drink something, or you’ll be dehydrated.” His tone was lazy, absolutely no concern in the tone as he released a long exhale of smoke into the air. “The last thing you need is heat stroke.” Those caramel, tapered fingers were trailing their way behind Debitt’s ear, finding the vein in his neck and tracing a tickling touch over the skin.
Debitt shivered a bit, a chill of unwanted excitement running down his frame. He didn’t see the elder Noah’s smirk, an amused expression. “What are you drinking?” The question was entirely innocent, but Tiki seemed to find the inquiry quite funny. The Noah laughed aloud, actually sitting straight in his seat and leaning over to look into Debitt’s face.
“Aren’t you just a little connoisseur?” He smiled at the bare line of gold that showed between the boy’s eyelids, an idea in his mind as he tapped his cigarette out and let the butt retreat to the ashtray. “Let’s play a game…” Tiki held the bottle of wine up to the light, a smile lingering in his eyes. “Close your eyes, and I’ll let you have a bit. You tell me what you taste, and if you get it right…” The hand moved to the top of Debitt’s shirt, sensually tracing his collarbone and making the boy shiver yet again. “I’ll give you a treat.”
Debitt opened his mouth to refuse, sounding just a bit petulant as he spoke. “It’s too damn hot to play, Ti-“ He was cut off by a sharp burn of alcohol in his throat and lips pressed to his, eyes opening in surprise as the wine and heat flooded his senses. The boy made a soft whine of protest into the kiss, the noise quickly changing to one of pleasure as fangs brushed his lips and a tongue explored his mouth with sly intent. He returned the kiss, the wine’s flavors swirling in his mouth and soul and eyes like a taste of hell and heaven in one damnable devil’s embrace. Tiki drew back before he’d had enough, on purpose- Tease, Debitt wanted to snap, but his head was spinning and the world was all cold alcohol and gentle touches, heavy breaths and heated groin.
Tiki smiled, deviance in his expression as he stared into the Debitt’s eyes. “What does it taste like, then?” He said it softly, hands holding his face still as he brushed those poison lips against the boy’s forehead. Debitt couldn’t quite catch his breath, trying to form words and place the flavors without losing his control.
“Blood…” He barely whispered the word, but the single breath made Tiki jerk back in surprise, smile gone.
“What?”
“The wine tastes like berries…” The gold eyes opened, staring up into Tiki’s shocked face with dazed indifference. “And you taste like blood.”
Tiki let his hands fall from the boy’s face, suddenly looking a bit disdainful as he settled back in his chair. A fresh cigarette appeared from seemingly nowhere, lit with resentment as he took a deep breath. “Get out of here, brat.”
Debitt didn’t need to be told twice; He scrambled to his feet, disappearing inside with a knot of nerves in his stomach. That hadn’t been the right thing to say, he knew, but when he glanced back toward the door Tiki didn’t seem to be mad at all. There was just… a sad expression on his face, watching the smoke drift away into the heat.
“Blood.” It was a huff of dismissal, letting the annoyance disappear. “Stupid brat…”
