Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Aurum & Ultramarine ❯ One-Shot

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

"Aurum & Ultramarine"
by Bennu

for Ann V., my sesky bishoju.

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Aurum and ultramarine. The two colors of the planet, of the apex of the sky and the endless seas of sand, painted onto a paley tan humanoid canvas. He was the very avatar of Gunsmoke, a burning Adonis, a quiet machine of death whose flat eyes - the twin suns - have been the last sight of uncountable numbers. He moves like sand shifting in the wind, or a precious flow of water, and only I have heard him scream and lived. Legato only lives in aurum and ultramarine, in blood welling over his back. He is pain in a thin blue veil and an empty golden smile.

So empty, you can hear your own heartbeat in him. My quiet echo, Legato.

He's a beautiful little whore, with half-lidded eyes ablaze in anticipation and his legs wide open for me. There's no question in his mind that I own him, completely. The marks I make on his back are only for me, although he writhes with pleasure through the pain. My soulless fuckpuppet, such a perfect masochist. With me, at least.

I know he went back and raped them all before they were allowed to die. He couldn't have hidden it if he'd wanted to. I grinned at the dark justice of it. I felt him rise in ecstacy as he slowly, deliberately teased death out of them - countless numbers of them - made them drink their own blood, invaded their minds and their aging, ugly bodies. They all remembered the little prostitute's son, ten double dollars, whose eyes were older than all of them combined, who sucked them off and never said a word. His laugh was a jackal. The smell of whiskey made him ache to kill again.

Such a pretty boy, and he is all mine. The thought is a ripple of pleasure through me: Legato, the pinnicale of humanity - although still only human - is MINE. The perfect murder machine, drunk with blood, conciever of terror, bows to no one but me. And when he bows, he does so with all of his stunted heart and shredded soul. A splendid, sexual marrionette, a slave by choice, dancing exactly as I tell him to. A treasured possession, molded out of filth, beaten to purity, filled with my will and my will alone - I made you, puppet, and I will destroy you.

But not just yet.

The fifth time I proved my ownership, I let you come. You couldn't stop shaking afterwards, and your eyes were dialated with the enormity of what had been done. Consider it a little gift, Legato, for being such an admirable whore - or would you rather me beat you half to death? Of course, you want whatever I want, and that's exactly what you'll get. Your life depends on my happiness, and I never let you forget it. You're lucky you please me so well...maybe next time, I'll even let you stay. Would you shiver at that, curling up to sleep with me, as if I actually desired your presence in the cold hours?

Oh, Legato. My little freakshow. Aurum and ultramarine...