Author: Tsumi666
Disclaimers: Fruits Basket is the property of Natsuki Takaya.
Warnings: angst, seriously deranged Haru, non-consensual sex, 
violence, NC-17, KYOUKE

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Kyo hisses as his body is pressed forcefully into the tatami mat beneath him, the blunt ridges of the reeds digging into the soft skin of his bare chest and face. Later, I want to see those red lines imprinted in his skin, marking him from what I’ve done to him, crude marks that I’ll have to match with other, more pleasant ones. But, twisting to the side, he manages for a moment, to squirm out of my tight grip enough to free an arm and directs a violent blow to my ribs with a quick jab of his long-fingered hand and I’m distracted.



I love his hands. I love his arms and the fluidity that his entire body moves with, especially when he’s practising martial arts alone when he thinks no one is watching. I love to watch him move though, and I’m entranced by his fingers moving toward me-- I’m caught by the curve and the stretch of his hand, his arm, his body as he reaches for me. I grunt at the impact, not having braced for the hit, and Kyo heaves himself off the ground and forces me to the side, flipping us so that he’s now on top, pinning the me to the floor.



It’s his turn to play, he’s thinking. I can see it going through his mind; he thinks it’s his turn to have at me for what I’ve been doing to him. But really, he can’t blame me for being so caught up in his habits, Black Haru or otherwise. He catches my attention so often and I can’t bring myself to leave him alone. He’s like a butterfly to a child; he dances and shines and flutters just out of my reach that I can’t help but follow along, wanting to touch, wanting to hold him and possess him, but never realizing that you can’t do that to a butterfly because they’ll die if you touch them like I want to him.



That doesn’t apply though; Kyo is not a butterfly. He’s not so delicate that the bruises and scrapes I’ve left on him from our sparring will stop him for long. He won’t crumple between my fingers because he’s so much stronger than that. I can see it in his intense gaze; I can see it in the set of his features as he moves over me. He’s not one to give up, I’ve found.



I’m grinning up at the Cat, heedless of the fact that I’m was now being mashed into the floor by Kyo’s trembling body. My head starts to loll forward and back, and my eyes roll as Kyo pulls me up by the shoulders and lets me fall back onto the floor with a heavy thud. I’m suddenly deliriously delighted, my chest tight with the sounds Kyo is making-- panting growls-- as the Cat struggles to prolong the inevitable by fighting against me.



But I enjoy the struggle, I do; I enjoy the burning spirit in the Cat that is always slow to die down. The fire that burns inside of the Cat Juunishi seems an eternal flame, that can’t be doused, only fanned by any emotion he feels. And he always feels every emotion so strongly, it’s incredible to watch his eyes flash with what he’s feeling inside. I love the fight each time I approach Kyo, I love how the Cat always feels the need to prove to himself that he has tried his hardest each time, to object to my unceasing attentions. I let out a sharp breath at a particularly violent collision of head to tatami mat, and through dizzy sight I catch a glimpse of the Cat, his eyebrows furrowed and his impeccable eyes squinted with fatigue and concentration. I can’t get enough of Kyo’s tenacity, so I’ll allow the Cat to think he’s won for a while longer.



I think it’s good for him to feel like he’s winning, since he’s lost in everything all his life. At least in his mind, that is. It’s strange to me that he can’t see how talented and special he is, that he’s not a complete failure, demon cat spirit or not. He’s always trying to fight us, Yuki and I, always trying to prove himself. It’s endearing to be put in Kyo’s sight like that, and it feels like there are butterflies inside my stomach that are making me dizzy, making me want to hold on and never let go, to stop the spinning. Winning isn’t only good for Kyo, the Black side of me wants to overpower this exotic creature before me, Black Haru wants to touch that butterfly and make it mine. I think I’ll let him; I’ve been waiting for this for so long now, it’s only fair.



I laugh and jerk myself upwards then, slamming my forehead into Kyo’s soft nose and mouth with a crack and a slight, easily ignored ache, and stun the cat as I follow through with a punch to his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. In control once more, I pause a moment to take in the flush that has spread across my smooth-skinned prey, Kyo’s pale skin reddening from the force of our blows and smeared slightly with blood that has been let flow during the struggle. I track my amused gaze across Kyo’s neck and collar bones as the cat’s eyes slide exhaustedly shut. His eyes are ringed with dark bruises, his skin taking on the sheen of perspiration that makes him look real, I think. He is much nicer to look at this way, from above and from the perspective of the winner of this battle, where Kyo looks alive after being blank and lifeless for so long.



I know I needed to see this Kyo, this living thing that I can control but that isn’t afraid or dispassionate in fighting back against me. This is the form of the cat that I love to play with since it is so much more intriguing than the Kyo that gives in to his pain. And it isn’t just Black Haru that appreciates the sight of a panting, flushed Cat beneath me, completely at my mercy.



“I win,” I sing to him, breathing almost as heavily as Kyo is. When he opens his eyes, I don’t think he realizes what he’s done to me, in that moment I’m hit with the urge to own him. His eyes shine up at me with an irritated look, and he sears me with his fire. I can see the sparks flying, he’s trying to make me explode, urging me with his mind, but alas, I defy him.



“You win,” he finally, wearily states, pushing at my chest with weak attempts, his delicate hands trembling and his breathing evening out. He looks resigned and he looks like he’s just trying to humour me. He’s had enough of this game, but so have I. I’d told him before that I was tired of playing, that I wanted to touch him in so many ways that I could never begin to account them all in this life. I told him how his body, his movements, the intricate workings of his mind entrances me so, but he didn’t want to believe it then, and he doesn’t want to believe it even now.



A new emotion, something more solid and basic than my amusement at his antics creeps up upon me. He’s not fighting me, and he’s trying to pacify me like I am only a child. He’s thinking that since we very nearly grew up together, that he very nearly grew up for me, to take care of me, that he somehow has the higher ground. That he has control. This is my own irritation; this is my own anger and need for the amity of my own mind.



I want to touch him now more than ever. Maybe I really am still only a child, but I want to touch him and he can’t do a thing to stop me.



This is my anger, my own anger, without the comfortable excuse of Black Haru. I want to show him who Hatsuharu really is. I want to show him that he doesn’t own me. That perhaps…perhaps I could own him instead. Surely I know more of the inner workings of his deepest secrets, more so than he could ever even wish to know of mine.



When someone is filled with an all-encompassing rage, they say that they see red, that a veil of rouge gossamer has slid over their eyes so all they can see is what has them so emotionally explosive.



I’m whispering this all to him, into the perfect shell of his butterfly ear, that I’m seeing in red, my own red, Kyo’s orange-red fire burning inside of me, and I think he knows it too. In fact, I think he’s almost got a clue as to what I really am all about now. It’s taken him long enough. But this is just the beginning. This is neither White, nor Black Haru. This is simply me, and no one else.



First, his tired eyes widen as I clasp his limp wrists together in one of my larger, stronger hands, and pin them above his head on the mat. I’m leaning over him and that’s what’s got his pulse thudding so heavily again, I can feel it through his wrists where my fingers are digging in. I can feel the tightening of his muscles as he flexes against my hold, testing his bonds.



My eyes narrow and a gasp escapes from Kyo’s flushed lips as I finally let myself cover him completely. I won’t give him a moment to get used to the feeling of me being pressed against him, because this is all now-or-never in my red-veiled mind. When my mouth covers his, I imagine the sound of the wall breaking, the wall that had prevented me from reaching out to him before now. I work at his tightly closed lips, tracing them with my tongue and willing them to open to me, and I fit myself against him. He feels like the last piece of the puzzle all tucked against me like this, and I hum in delight at the feeling, the sound vibrating against his mouth.



Pressing against him completely, I feel myself reacting to him, and the butterfly-Cat feels it too, I can tell when he jerks his head to the side and gasps for the breath he had been holding and whispers into the still air that I don’t know what I’m doing. I laugh and the movement is delicious, and I reply that I think I know what I’m doing now more than I’ve ever known.



He says I’m confused, that he’s not Yuki, that I won’t remember afterwards what I’m doing to him since I’m Black Haru right now.



I stoke the side of his face and grind against him, and tell him I’m not Black Haru and that I will remember this. I know I will. There’s no way I’m letting the Cat escape now, not now that I’ve finally got him in my arms.



He starts to fight back against me once more and I’m pleased, because that means he’s still intriguing and still Kyo and I haven’t messed him up too badly by doing this, so I continue my exquisite torture on him with my lips and tongue and mouth. I bite his neck leaving a little trail of red, and soothe it with my tongue. I’m marking him in a way that will stay longer than the red lines from the tatami mats. I am enthralled with everything he is.



But he is fighting back now, more than he was when he thought we were just sparring. He’s twisting and turning in my grip, trying to break free and I can feel the flutter of his heartbeat, of his wings against me and that only makes me hold on tighter.



Can’t let go now. So I don’t.



I force him to lie still, and I pry apart his lips by forcing his jaw with my other hand and I move against his lean body and this is almost what I’ve been searching for. He moans into my mouth as my tongue digs in, and it is a distressed sound and I think he’s scared. His eyes are still wide open but I’m having so much fun with his writhing as he tries to escape. But then he feels it, feels me against him, hard and hot, and my hand under his shirt and on his skin and he can’t get away and he stops. Just like that.



It’s like hitting a wall almost; he’s not moving anymore and his body has gone slack. I’m struck by a cold wash of fear that I’ve broken him by accident, that I wasn’t careful with him and now I’ve done something terrible. It’s a cold fear that holds my heart in a vice as I wonder whether they were right in telling me not to touch the butterflies.



“Kyo?” I whisper in the silence, my voice rasping and gravely and my skin hot and sweaty. His eyes crack open and I see he’s fine and a small wave of relief washes over me, but not before it is overtaken by a mudslide of indignation. I can see the thoughts running through his head, sprouting from his shining eyes that maybe if he gives in then I’ll loose interest.



That’s very ironic, but I’m not of the right mind to see that at this time. Right now I only see that he’s trying to play with me again. Kyo thinks he’s better than me, and he thinks he knows how to deal with Haru but he’s wrong. He may know how to deal with White and Black Haru but now I am neither. They say there’s a grey side to everything and maybe that’s what I’ve become now, but I know that’s not quite it because I’m still seeing red.



I’m angry and I growl like an animal, all I can think of is that he tried to fool me, and that he needs to be punished for that. For assuming that he knows how to deal with me, that I’ll just go away once the game is over and done with. But this ‘me’ doesn’t work that way.



I attack his mouth once more, ravaging his lips and tongue and warm, moist cavern and I hear our teeth clack together as I slam myself against him. My free hand is dragging his shirt out of the way and I’m assaulting his nipples and scratching my nails down his chest and digging his legs apart with a knee between his own. My mind blanks for a second in a cool blue instead of hazy red as I thrust against him, him only half hard and his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to hinder the sounds his body wants to make as it wants to give in to me with mewls and purrs.



This is good, more than I could have imagined, but it’s not enough. I feel the tightening inside me and I feel Kyo’s fire everywhere out bodies touch and I know I have to have him now. One-handed I work on the closing of his pants, wanting them off him now so I can have what rightfully belongs to me. But he starts to panic now that he knows what exactly I’m after at this moment and his starts thrashing again, bringing up a knee and trying to bite down on my tongue and lips still on him and in him as he tries to escape.



There’s nothing like an animal that feels cornered, fighting for their life. Kyo is completely wild in this moment, my little housecat, and he can’t possibly be anything like the butterfly I know. So it must be ok, I think, to be doing this, because he won’t die if I touch him. I can’t possibly hurt him like this and I am not Black Haru.



I hit him hard across the face because that’s what everyone does to hysterics, and I see the red and dark almost immediately on his skin. I hear the crack and feel the burn and he’s laying almost still but for a fine line of red that leaks slowly from his split lip. I don’t want to deal with hysterics; I’ve had enough of games and his beauty blinds me even in this moment. I feel the throb in my own blood and feel him against me and I can’t wait.



I use both hands now to rid him of his pants, and I’ve laid his arms over my shoulders and there they lay locked and limp on me. His eyes close again once I’ve pulled his cargos off completely and I’m annoyed because I want him to look at me. His eyes are important to me, just like his hands are, because they show who he is even in the smallest ways. His hands dance and fly but his eyes burn with fire and I need to see him because I feel like my blood is on fire inside my veins, all because of him. I want him to recognize what he does to me and realize the power he has over me but still his eyes are closed and his body lies stiff.



I reach down and wrap a hand around his length, stroking up and down and trying to make him react again, because he’s not hard like he was before. His eyes are shut still and now he’s biting his broken lip even though it must hurt but that must be the point. He doesn’t want to make a sound or look at me.



I hit him again, and I squeeze on his flaccid cock, until finally, after seemingly an eternity of no response, he lets out a sigh. I lean down low and dip my tongue into the hollow of his navel, spearing in and out in time with my strokes and then he’s hard in my hand again and he’s panting beneath me.



He’s just so beautiful, all flushed, sweaty skin and the expression on his face that looks like pleasure now and I’m happy for a moment, thinking on all that he is. And now I’ve got him in my arms and under my hands and mouth and now he’s my Cat. I’d like to feel his skin pressed against mine, but right now I don’t have the patience to strip us both, so I leave him naked from the waist down with his t-shirt tugged up under his armpits slightly.



I trail my hands across his inner thighs and he likes that, his legs flex open more; even if his mind didn’t want them to, his body knows what feels good. But lower my hands go, and around, and I’m pulling his hips up and I’m cupping his ass in my hands and grinding against him. I tease one finger across his perineum, the small strip of flesh so close to where I really want to be and then finally I pass over his opening, just lightly pressing in but not all the way and he moans a bit at the feeling.



When I’ve got a finger buried in him, he tries to twist away as it burns, but I pull him closer and bite him a bit too rough and he stops moving again with a whimper. He’s fine, I tell myself, but as I work another finger into him I dig with the other hand and pull open my zipper, freeing my aching erection and giving it a stroke or two as I find that place inside Kyo that makes his eyes shoot open and his breath gasp in a rush.



He’s fine, I reassure myself, pleased that he’s pressing down onto my fingers instead of away from them again. I’m regretting the fact that I didn’t think to bring any sort of lubrication with me, and I’m thinking of how uncomfortable this will be, for the both of us. I use spit as best I can, spreading it and stroking myself and trying to stop myself from coming on the spot as Kyo mewls beneath me, hard and aching, his hips canting upwards trying to get me to touch him.



It’s funny, only minutes ago he wanted me off of him, now he can’t wait for me to touch him again. I smile down at him and smooth my other hand across his shivering stomach trying to soothe him, and I lift his legs and rest them around me as I push in.



Warm and tight is all I have the capacity to think at that moment, but I’ve got to stop moving as his face clenches when his body follows suit and I’ve got to wait until he’s ready. When I’m finally moving inside of him, I reach down and stroke his length and groan out his name with every forward motion of my hips into him. I can feel that fire inside him again, so much deeper than before and I can’t get enough of him. I thrust hard and fast into him, searching for that secret of him, the only secret that I’m missing, and then I’ll have the entire puzzle of the butterfly-Cat solved and laid out beautifully before me.



When I come, it’s with a shout of Kyo’s name and a rush of light to my eyes and I’m blind. No more red, no more blue. Just fire before my eyes and filling my entire body, burning me, but it’s a good burn and I feel like I’m filling Kyo with my soul as I feel my body pounding all over.



I open my eyes to see he’s still hard and I pull out and kneel between his legs, and I put him in my mouth as far as I can. I feel like I owe him, for such a wonderful experience he’s just given me, so I suck at him until his hands fisted him my hair tug hard and his body arches taught and he bites his lip even harder. He doesn’t make a noise otherwise.



I lie against him for a moment, catching my breath and then lean over to kiss him. At first he tries to move away again, and I feel a dull reflection of the anger that had driven me to this in the first place, and I grasp his chin and hold him still for my kiss. He is motionless in my arms, and by the time I’ve dragged us both into his bed after cleaning up a bit, he looks completely asleep. I brush tear tracks from his face and slide a hand through his incredible hair, marvelling at its softness and at the contrast of it compared to his formerly pale skin. Now it’s got more dark patches, bruises and scrapes from where I’d hit him, and he looks so fragile.



Snuggling up to him, I think back on what had just happened, but I’m filled with nothing but happiness that I have remembered everything. This proves that I wasn’t Black Haru, because even though I thought I was sure, I wasn’t completely. I’m looking at Kyo in my arms again and I’m thinking of his fire now, and I’m thinking how it’s mine. He’s not moving but he still tried to fight me. I didn’t hurt him badly; he’s not a butterfly, so that means he’s fine. He looks so innocent in his sleep, the points of his wrists and elbows seem shadowed making him look delicate, and the dark rings around his eyes are more pronounced now. He is tired and already mostly asleep, so I’ve got nothing to worry about for now.



But he’s still my Cat, and I’ve got to protect him, so I’ll have to keep him locked up, so no one tries to hurt him anymore. He’s so damaged, you see, that he thinks nothing is on his side. Well, I am, forever now. He’ll never get rid of me, not now that I’ve found out the last piece to his puzzle, that what needs most is to be protected, even if he doesn’t know it yet. But I’ll know, and I won’t be Black Haru or White Haru for him, I’ll just be this new me, and maybe this will all work out alright.



Smiling and humming a little to myself, I pull him close and nuzzle his neck and hair and fall asleep with his scent in my nose and his skin under my hands. This must be what Heaven feels like, is my last thought, before I succumb to my own exhaustion.