Gotta Keep it Separated

It had taken a moment, but the markings on the man's chest looked vaguely familiar, belonging to memories that the chemicals the company had been feeding him for the past few years had blocked out. Eventually he'd figure out or ask what they were, but for now..."My name is Zane, Damon, the man you met at the supermarket, was a created personality forced on me by my enemies when I fell captive to them several years back." turning his face forward again to casually glance towards the windows again at the sunlight coming through the curtains, "Last night was the first time in maybe three years that I'd managed to regain control of my own body....You just happened to be there when it happened, and I couldn't help but enjoy myself not knowing when I'd loose control again." He looked back at Kasoki again, that sly canary eating grin returning to his lips despite the somewhat desperate situation he was actually in.

"You were quite entertaining by the way, and I'm so sorry that Damon came back up before I got to really have some fun, but I promise I can make it up to you."
 
*Kasoki closed his eyes and listened to his explanation. From the sounds of it... it was them. MalTech.
He didn't realize they would be this close to him. Did they know of his location? Was this a trick? He had to be careful from this moment onward. Very careful.
He wondered why MalTech used this guy, and what his real objective was.
Clearing his throat, warily he asked,*
Why did they capture you? What do they want with you?
*He had the chills at being approached in such a sexual way, but he pushed those feelings aside.*
 
Sighing, he switched which leg was crossed before he answered, still watching the man who's home he was invading, "You see, there's an unfortunate side affect to the drug they had me on, anything having to do with the Company, as i've come to call, my past or mission have been blocked. I get notions and glimpses now, but I still need to detox the system more." Zane's eyes wandered over those tattoos again, studying them with a mixture of thought and confusion present in his confident expression. "I believe we left off last night at trying to figure out exactly who you were, did we not?" Another glance at the markings and the following comment was more like thinking out loud, "I get the feeling like I shouldn't trust you...and yet..." sighing, shaking his head and looking down to brush some invisible dirt off his pants.
 
*Kasoki shared the feeling. This man certainly couldn't be trusted. He was somehow twisted up in a similar situation...
but would it affect his own? If he took this man in, would it jeopardize everything?
He could feel the pull of fate, her string like lovers' sheets entangling them, pulling them tighter and tighter together, choking them bitterly, blissfully.
The room felt small, suffocating. There was an unknown tension in the air. Was it sexual? Malicious? Desperate?
He said, rather dryly,*
I don't think it matters who I am.
This is my home.
What matters is who you are.
*After briefly pacing, his watery footprints following him like an echo, his soaked hair leaving trails down his bare, toned chest, he came to a conclusion. A painful conclusion.*
You can stay here, Zane. I don't mind.
But don't get in my way.
If you need anything, tell me. If you know something I should, tell me.
And you cannot tell a soul about me; nothing. No details, personal information, whereabouts... *Tracing his tattoo-like markings with his finger, sensual in a way but not meant to be, he finished,* ...physical characteristics...
 
Zane snorted a little, nodding his head slightly. When he turned his gaze back onto the freshly showered man across the room, his stare was intense, a sly smirk firmly affixed to his lips, "Of course, but I'll request my presence here is also kept...quiet." He didn't make another move, nor did he say more, instead just watched Kasoki from his place on the couch, his eyes smoldering with a silent knowledge he'd never reveal. As he sat there looking over his new host, memories that came across more as just knowing more than anything else started to spark. However just as he grasped at the thoughts, they started to slip past again. And so Zane was left with general ideas, like the tattoos were certainly part of his past, having to do with the Company but any further details escaped him. He knew, over time, he'd come to remember what everything all meant, what he was supposed to be doing and he was quickly getting the feeling that this man before him was going to play a key role in all that.
 
*Nodding in agreement, Kasoki whispered*
Yes. Quiet. That is best.
*The men stared at each other in unwavering silence. Kasoki could hear his own heart beating- it seemed so loud, like a shout in an empty hallway, a cry on a desolate mountain. After letting the tension overwhelm him, he turned wordlessly and walked down the hallway.
Kasoki entered his bedroom and closed the door. Once inside, his demeanor crumbled a little bit. Perhaps it was the sexual tension he held for the stranger, perhaps it was the dire need for caution. Either way, when he was alone, things got to him.
As he was pulling on his clothes, briefly he could feel himself slipping away. The marks on his chest burned, a fire raging inside of him that begged to cut loose. He held it in, painfully, trying to focus on anything other than the seriousness of what just happened.
He dressed well; a long white dress shirt, with wide elegant sleeves that complemented his tight, but not overly so, black dress pants. After Kasoki buttoned up his shirt, he took a towel to clean up the footprints in the hallway and the living room. By no means was the man on his knees; much too degrading to his persona, to his perceived status. The towel was dropped on the floor, and moved with his foot to clean up the dampness. He then picked up the towel and threw it in the dirty laundry.
Kasoki didn't know how to deal with the man sitting in his living room. So he decided to ignore him for the time being. Calmly, he walked into the kitchen and put water on to boil. This whole fiasco certainly had him worked up. He needed to relax- a nice, soothing cup of tea is just what he required.*
 
In the time it took for Kasoki to finish dressing, Zane had wandered his way around the apartment, committing to memory key facts like escape routes, locations of objects like knives for weapons; anything and everything he'd need to know to keep the environment from working against him should an emergency situation arise. More than anything, he was hoping Ginta never tried looking here for him, that he'd left enough of a trail in the wrong direction to lead away from being right under the man's nose.

As his new...roommate for lack of better term, started the tea, Zane was peeking out the curtain that looked down into the parking lot. As he flashed back quickly on the chase he'd just escaped from, the smallest pang of guilt rose from nowhere. The instant he recognized the feeling, Zane squashed the emotion like an unwanted pest. It was a residual side effect of the mind fuck they'd done to him is what he told himself. But if he were to ever be completely honest with himself, he'd have realized that the personality the Company had created was really only an extension of himself; a part of Zane that was never allowed an outlet before because it was too dangerous to care about anyone else. In some sick twisted way, they had given him the chance to be what he would never allow himself to be, and that part of him....Damon, really did love Ginta all this time. What a shame.

Letting the curtains fall back, there was a brief second as Zane turned into the room again where his expression would have betrayed the cool, suave confidence that immediately replaced his self-mourning. "I hope you're making enough for two there." His tone was slick as he slithered across the carpet to stand threateningly close to Kasoki, eyes trained on the other man so much that one might think he could bore holes with a look alone.
 
*With a grimace, he added more water to the pot on the stove.
His chest burned, the markings glowing a deep red, stinging like a fresh, crisp brand. Indeed it was a brand; one to mark his twisted, inescapable heritage. His unforgiving past was littered with violence, death... longing.
His eyes were nearly glowing, but Kasoki held himself inward. His breathing was deep and slow; his chest rose and fell noticeably with every strong inhale. He was crumbling, slowly but certainly, his exterior flaking away like a dead crust of skin.
All he could see were chains- thousands of links wrapping their cold husks around his sweating, warm body. He felt the long years of loneliness etch themselves into his mind as he absorbed himself into his studies. The pages flew by like flocks of tropical birds, each inked word taking him somewhere. Anywhere. The books ended like seasons, one after another, an unbroken cycle.
And all of a sudden, it changed. He changed. He ran, ran far away. Ran to this house, petrified with even more loneliness in a foreign world. And now, alone with a stranger.
He remembered the feeling of Zane's touch, leaving shivers along Kasoki's sensitive skin. Leaving him feeling confused, hard, and even more alone as he was insulted and flinging himself across a park bench.
And now, they were both here. Together again. Was it fate? Will Zane be the end... who was he, anyways?
His body, with its fluidity... his eyes, cold and distant.. and sexy, w--
Without warning, the tea kettle startled his thoughts. The noise was sharp in the silent air, shattering the images in Kasoki's mind like tiny mirrors. Standing there, dumbfounded, it took him a moment to return to reality. The marks ached, but not as badly. Maybe he needed the little scare.
He quickly poured the tea, leaving Zane's cup on the table as he hastily headed for the bedroom.
Once there, he leaned on his dresser, tea in hand. He was a wreck. Held together with thin thoughts, fragile as single strands of thread.*
 
Zane stood staring at the place Kasoki had been a few minutes after the other had left. His mind was working on a puzzle, the mystery of who this guy was, but it was like feeling how jigsaw pieces fit together in the dark; things made sense, they fit, but the picture you were creating was still unseen. Slowly he went for the tea left out for him, wondering out loud, but with a quiet voice, "Who are you..." Squinting at the bedroom door, "Or maybe the better question is what are you..."

After a long sip at the tea, he made a face "Ugh...forgot I hate tea." And in less than a minute, he was pouring it down the drain. Tea was a Damon thing, coffee...coffee was all Zane. Shortly after, he wandered down the hall, listening carefully for any sounds coming from the bedroom. The door was cracked open, likely an oversight from the room's occupant, and Zane took full advantage of it. Cautiously, his fingers wrapped around the side of the door, putting enough pressure so that the hinges didn't have need to squeak as he slowly pushed it open more. When there was enough gap for him to slip in, he did quietly, eyes trained on the man at the dresser. Out of nowhere he spoke, a sly smirk plastered firmly on his lips, "At least the bed will be big enough, though I might have enjoyed having to be snuggled right on top of you."
 
*Kasoki stood by the dresser, his thoughts burned like a fire, consuming him alive. His marking singed his shirt, the burning cloth making an unpleasant smell. The tea calmed him down a little. More and more with each sip.
Chamomile was a blessing.
He took off his shirt, throwing the ruined scraps into the garbage. He was shirtless when Zane walked in, his marked back facing the doorway.
Kasoki jumped a little when Zane spoke, not expecting him. Especially since the shirt was off and only the pants remained.
Again, he remembered the sensation of Zane's touch. The feeling of his fingertips. His hot breath and cool skin.
He faced Zane, his eyes cold, maybe even bitter.*
If you insist on being entitled to the bedroom, then I will be sleeping on the couch.
*As an afterthought for good measure, he said rather bluntly,*
Alone.
*And with that, he walked off, taking his tea cup with him. A moment later he was refilling the pot. He was going to need to buy A LOT more chamomile tea with this guy around...*
 
Zane's head turned to follow the shirtless man as he was passed by. He inhaled deeply the scent of Kasoki, though unfortunately the fresh shower smell was overpowered by the smell of the burned cloth. Frowning, he figured he'd have to get the scent by having a much closer pass at the man. Casually, Zane followed his host back into the kitchen, stalking him like a tiger in the jungle, even his hips swayed a bit as his shoes made hardly a sound as they carried him across the floor. Within less than a minute, he'd closed the gap between the two of them, pressing his chest against Kasoki's back. Slowly his hands reached around the man's front, starting at his shoulders and sensually, lightly following the lines of his muscled chest. Zane had leaned in, his face close to the demon's neck so that when he inhaled the man's scent deeply then slowly exhaled, the heat of his breath was noticeable.

"Mmm, you'd smell better if it weren't for that burned cloth stench lingering about you..." his lips moving to brush lightly against Kasoki's ear as the tone of Zane's voice changed to something even more sensual, but dangerous still. "How does one burn their shirt right off themselves like that?"
 
*Kasoki shivered lightly, his neck sensitive to the touch. Well, everything sensitive to the touch. It was still unusual having human skin- it was so fragile, so sensuous, so delicate. Zane's breath had a rippling effect that sent signals throughout his entire body. As he became slightly aroused, Kasoki caught the moan in his throat just before it escaped.
This guy was much too close to him.
The air around them was heavy, and tense. It tingled against Kasoki's chest, weighing it down. For a moment he couldn't move; he was paralyzed at this touch. The moment stretched forever in silence.
Eventually Kasoki stepped away from Zane without answering his questions. His skin was warm, his cheeks reddening. The markings were all pins and needles, the area around them still very hot to the touch. This guy was dangerous, he thought. His instincts told him to put distance between himself and the man, and so he did. He was standing by the doorway in the kitchen, Zane lingering by the tea kettle that was nearly boiling.
Kasoki's mind raced. What could he say? Certainly not the truth. He could never tell the truth. But he couldn't lie to a human about something so unnatural... if the guy was even a human. Zane, too, seemed unnatural. Perhaps it was this quality that enticed Kasoki so much, yet it also drove him away. Hot and cold.
He could picture the man sliding his hands up his shirt, down his pants, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. His wanting, craving mouth.
Kasoki's breath was deep and slow, and not exactly controlled. His member throbbed, the sensation somewhat new and not exactly pleasant. Perhaps it would take some getting used to. He tried to dismiss the feeling. It seemed to have an effect on his mental state.
Once again, he left the kitchen and went into his bedroom. The lights were off and the room was dark. Desperately seeking a moment to gather himself, he could think of nowhere else to escape. Zane's mental games were getting to him, playing with him. If they kept at it, Kasoki would end up losing. How much would he lose? He was unsure. And he didn't want to find out. This time he shut the door.
A few moments later, the silver tea kettle next to Zane began to whistle.*
 
Zane's eyes slowly slid to look at the offensive noise maker on the stove. After taking it off the heat, he went to the couch, kicking his shoes off and laid back. With his arm over his eyes, he fell asleep, though only deep enough to get rest, he would wake with movement close to him. As he slept, he dreamed, for the first time, his own dreams instead of Damon's. It was like a ripped up set of memories, chaotic, confusing, some painful, others leaving him with a sense of fear or deep sadness. He spent the rest of the night like this, in and out of fits of sleep.

(sorry it's so short, I just didn't know what else to do with it, he wasn't going to follow in again.. :| )
 
*Kasoki tossed and turned in his bed, unable to escape the night terrors. Eventually he woke up, laying in his crumpled sweaty sheets with a quickness of breath and the cold pallid skin of a corpse. His hair was scattered about him, his nude frame shining silver in the moonlight. The tattoos pulsed white hot, the smoldering smell of burning cloth wafted in the stale air.
He stretched briefly and climbed out of bed. The images on his skin were branded into his blankets.
Glancing at the clock he smirked at the time- 3:33 AM. A cruel joke. The time of the mystical, ethereal, spiritual. It was the time for magic and witchcraft... and demons.
He stepped outside quietly, unwilling to wake up Zane. The air was fresh, bathing him, cleansing him of all his nightmares. He was naked, a shiver creeping up his spine.
He saw Ginta tiredly opening his apartment door, looking weary and a bit upset. The man's face was bandaged up, a spot of blood on the crinkled shirt he wore. Kasoki could smell him from here; sweat, terror, anguish. It was a delightful scent that tickled the nostrils, clung to the throat.
Kasoki said nothing, stepping into the shadows a bit until Ginta got inside.
Silently he went back inside, the darkness taking a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He crept into the kitchen and sneaked into the fridge. Pouring a thick, tar colored liquid into a small glass, his nude frame a shining silhouette against the moon; the aroma in the carton was a sweet stench filled with rot. It was a sour, bitter taste tinged with iron, but the liquid sat heavily in his stomach like warm milk curdled with wine. He stood at the counter, his back towards the doorway, sipping this decaying foul drink with sweet enjoyment. It relaxed him more than a hot cup of tea ever could.*
 
Maybe it was the sounds of movement for the last couple minutes, or the soft stench of the drink Kasoki had slowly wafting over towards the couch. For whatever reason, Zane started shifting on his make-shift bed, finally peeking past his elbow to look sideways at the other. The figure standing there, like a sculpture was certainly nice to wake up to. After a short stretch across the cushions, he got up, his bare feet padding softly across the room, eyes locked on his host. "I'm not normally much of a morning person, but if this is the carrot to the proverbial stick, I'm all for it." Even half asleep, that dangerous smirk was hiding just beneath the surface.

As the gap between them closed, his gaze fell down along the man's body, taking in fully for as long as he could, Kasoki in all his glory...oh and the tattoos too. Leaning forward, Zane sniffed at the beverage, his nose immediately scrunching, "Some taste you have there...you know, it's not usually good to drink it after it goes bad." Course, he had no clue what was in the carton, but he was curious since it didn't quite smell like old milk either.
 
*Kasoki was relaxed. His nude body glimmered in the moon light, his skin pale and luminescent and flawless, stretched tightly over his lithe frame like a taut canvas.
His sea green hair fell gently over his closed eyes. It mirrored the ocean, spilling everywhere, contrasting against the black ink that stained his ivory flesh.
It was apparent that he was lost in thought, or in sensation, the cup tipped to his lips in blissful sensuality. The liquid touched his tongue gently, perhaps even gracefully, a slight moan of pleasure teasing itself out of Kasoki's throat as the bitter drink went down slowly.
He could not hear Zane, nor could he feel Zane's presence. He was captivated by this goopy, thick, sour-smelling rot. The air was bestial and primal, if not a little tense.
The carton rested on the counter, the label peeling away slowly but clinging tenaciously. There was a logo for a butcher near by. It would take only moments to piece it together. The clumpy, dark liquid nearly spoke for itself, as if the magical effect of it could not.
After an unwavering silenced passed- Kasoki, small and slender and toned, his naked frame basking in the moon's glow, tenderly placed the glass down. His eyes were wild and crazed, yet vulnerable and cursed. His skin rippling in ghastly pleasures, the scent of his body mingling with the sweet smell of degeneration, his renewed vigor, all pointed to a guilty pleasure worth hiding.
His cheeks were flushed as a lover's and the slight gasp he made at seeing Zane rivaled that of a discovered sexual act. The shyness melted into Kasoki. Not only was he in an intimate ask, but his body was on display as well.*
 
Zane's arms came up to place hands on either side of Kasoki to the counter behind the other man, their bodies pressing together trapping him; tender flesh to soft clothing gently brushing against one another. His eyes locked on the man just inches from him, Zane's voice rang out against the silence in a hushed whisper, "Some secrets you have there, huh...tattoos that can burn your clothes right off you, and rather interesting choices for a midnight snack." As he spoke, his head leaned in closer, lightly brushing a cheek, Kasoki's ear, along the hair line. Finally, his tongue flicked out across the other's lips, confirming his suspicions after seeing the label on the carton....blood, now the question became, from which animal.

He wasn't sure why, but that quick taste left him wanting more, pressing his lips harder to his host's whether invited or not.
 
*Kasoki was pushed back by Zane, his backside pressing into the counter sensually. His nostrils flared in excitement and also fear.
It was this touch that left him hot, begging, and above all, confused. His tattoos were warm to the touch, but not quite burning. It was a tingling sensation that was stagnant- caught between two extremes and unsure of how to react.
The room spun under Kasoki's bare feet, his body quivering and excited from the sudden encounter. He knew not how to handle himself. Everything was so new. The human form was so supple, sensitive. He could feel Zane's hands, breath, body, presence. The blood had left him feeling electrified, stimulating an already heightened passion.
After some coaxing, Kasoki's sour-tasting lips moved with Zane's, the tension mounting to a level that brought tangibility to the air. The night was warm, the air clinging around them like lovers' sheets; captivating them, suffocating them, entangling them in a web of lust and bondage.
In the window, their silhouettes were visible against the silvery back drop of the shivering moon.*
 
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