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The Manipulated Life	By : Erzulie Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 1382 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Dir en grey. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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~Same Disclaimer&Notes Apply!!~

Part Two – The Warring Roses

He leaned in a little closer to the mirror, giving his freshly applied makeup one final look before he invited the devil into his temporary den. Kyo sighs to see himself this way, completely disappointed with the situation. He thought he’d escaped such . . . things as this. Apparently, he’d been mistaken. His hand reaches up and ruffs the feathers he’d placed in his hair, making sure that the silky black ornaments looked right among all the blonde. He’d teased his hair up, making it look flared and thicker than what it was. Hairsprayed it into pretty, but dangerous looking points. He sighs again, painted eyes flickering over the face in the mirror once more. He’d taken out his piercings, as requested in the note he’d found on the vanity he was now situated before. Toshiya had been right, the purchaser had been very specific. Every little detail had to be in place. The perfect night. A fantasy comes true. Kyo smirks harshly. Just one night, and this will all be over. Just act, just pretend, and tomorrow, forget about it like you’ve forgotten the better part of the last ten years of your life. The twenty-seven year old tells himself these things as he stares into the image before him. He turns from the painted face in the mirror, knowing he looked the way requested. Eyes painted black, delicate but dramatic, a black tear rolling down his cheek. His face was as white as a Geisha’s, for that was his look for so many years . . . A diamond bendi is between his perfect eyebrows, surrounded by painstakingly drawn designs in black henna. A Geisha with a twist. Another smirk comes to his painted black and crimson lips, and he moves towards the rope hanging down near from the ceiling near the bed. His hips sway lightly as he walks, the movement returns to him naturally. The lace and silk of the dressing gown he wears rustling, and he leaves the scent of jasmines in his wake. He closes his eyes, climbing into the character he had tried so hard to forget for the past year and a half. Very slowly, he reaches out to the thick velvet rope, wrapping lace glove incased fingers around it gently. Another deep breath, and he tugs upon the rope, knowing it would ring a bell down in the bowels of the mansion which would send a servant to get his ‘guest’ for the evening. This is all so Victorian-mistress. . . He thinks to himself, moving from the rope with a smirk. He goes to the bed and pulls open the curtains to reveal the rich red velvet covers and pillows. But it also reveals something that he had not even thought to expect. A single white rose, just about to bloom. The thorns had not been cut from the long, graceful stem, and the leaves are the richest green he’d ever seen. A perfect white rose. Purity. His painted eyes go wide, and he steps back, his lace-covered hand going to his throat. Yes, his past was truly returning to him. Like a poltergeist intent to haunt someone knee-deep into insanity.

~Flash Back~
. . . The night had been a good one. His performance had brought down the house, or so the saying went. A full house, all for him. The other performers didn’t matter, or so the manager of the club told him. Just Kyo . . . and the voice he had. Just Kyo . . . and the magic he could weave with words sung with such dark, deep emotion. It didn’t matter if the cash cow of the stage was miserable, silent save for when he was performing. It didn’t matter that he locked himself away from all but those who were closest to him, or those that paid for his closeness to them. As long as the marks on his pretty form stayed hidden beneath his beautiful costumes, stayed out of sight from the ‘fans’ who came to see him backstage, or took him on ‘dates’ around town. As long as he kept singing, and kept business coming in . . . Nothing else mattered. Only one or two people had a care for him and how he felt. Toshiya, whom he spoke to . . . and that redhead Totchi was always with those days. But that concern from the red head was only because Toshiya demanded it. Things were good for Toshiya. He’d gotten away from the club scene, found his tough redhead. Kyo, on the other hand, was still just a singer and a for hire escort from time to time. He never allowed his customers to take his body. That was his rule. They didn’t seem to mind that, and neither did the man who was currently convinced that he indeed owned Kyo. The blonde vocalist knew that his ‘boss’ would be around on certain nights by way of the roses. Like this night. This good night that was about to turn horribly liberating . . . The symbol was simple. A white perfect bud about to bloom, and one of the deepest bloody crimson reds. The warring roses. . . .

~End Flash back ~

He came to the present with a start. There was no way possible –that- man could be here tonight! -That- man was dead. His skull was displayed proudly in Kyo’s front room at home. –That- man’s club was his own now. His ZAN, his pride. Kyo looks at the rose again. Not a red one in sight. Just the white. The perfect white. He takes a breath, telling himself not to be so damned stupid, so damned cowardly. Probably just another simple gift. That’s all it was. He’d gotten dozens of white roses before, all meaningless. Like this one. Just another simple gift. Then why isn’t this feeling going away? He asks himself. Arashino-sama is dead. I killed him myself, with Die’s backing through Toshiya. I am one of the family now. ZAN is mine. Arashino-sama is dead. His skull sits upon my coffee table at home. On its purple velvet pillow, where any guest o my house can see it. Do not worry so, foolish Kyo. There’s no such thing as ghosts. And especially none that leaves roses. Besides, he was always so sure to leave the red one as well. Never did they come alone. Kyo takes another deep breath, and as he does, he feels arms wrap around him, and a face come close to his ear. Another man behind him, holding him closely, tightly but gently. Strong, but thin. He closes his eyes, feeling like a fool once more for jumping when he’d felt the arms. He must have distracted himself so much he’d not heard the door open. Slowly, he turns his face slightly to see the one holding him. As he suspected. That was not Arashino-sama! He smirks to himself and the man holding him lets him go, returning the smirk. Kyo studies his ‘guest’ with glittering eyes, and he reaches to his side for the fan hanging there on a tiny jeweled clasp. He undoes the clasp, freeing the fan. He snaps the red and black lace thing open, hiding everything from the top of his nose down with it. Back into the feminine character he went. It was frightening how easy it was, too. The man before him seems to notice this as well, and he smiles as Kyo studies him.

“You’re just as I remember you, Kyo-sama.” The man states. His voice is deep, rich and purring. Melting. It matches his form, though Kyo would be loath to admit it. The man isn’t tall, but he is taller than the blonde at his disposal. No big surprise there, though. His features are hawk-like, intelligent. His eyes are deep hazel, crafty, cunning. They hold mystery and dangers. Kyo looks at them for a long moment, then willing himself not to get lost in them. His own eyes flick to the man’s thin lips, twin petals that press and curve into a knowing smile. The blonde’s eyes lock on those for a moment, and then he wills himself to make eye contact once more, controlling himself from getting lost in the other’s magnetic gaze. A deceptively thin hand reaches up and brushes down the side of Kyo’s neck. “You’re still incredibly beautiful.” The lips soften to a kind, almost loving smile. “I didn’t expect that to change. In fact, I knew it had not.” Something must have glittered across Kyo’s eyes. Surprise? Outrage at being apparently watched without him knowing it? He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but the man’s small smirk told him that the other had seen the shift of thought in his eyes. “It’s alright.” The man states. “You don’t have to ask. In fact, I want you to stay silent, unless you’re simply making noise.” A dirty grin and Kyo feels the light of rage flicker in his belly.

Faster than he can anticipate, however, his fan is knocked away, and the other man has him tightly in his grip. One arm is around him, vice like. The other hand has his chin, making him look up at his dark violet haired captor. Kyo tries to struggle, but his rebellion is quelled with a crushing squeeze around his ribs. “You’re here to please me, beautiful. Don’t make me do this in complete force.” The man’s lips are near to Kyo’s ear once more. He’s whispering the words he speaks. That silken voice is driving itself home in Kyo’s senses. “That’s right, calm down. Tonight is just fantasy, my Geisha. Just pretend, the exact same way you used to. But remember – Your little rule about not taking you? That was out the window before you even stepped into this room tonight.”

Kyo is panting softly, wanting to struggle away from the other man. But, he knows that if he escapes this room before the other willingly lets him go, he’ll be killed for it. For disobedience. He can’t help but squirm in the other’s arms though. And as he does, he’s greeted by a cruel laugh.

“Kyo. Don’t be so scared, ne? This fantasy of you is just for one night. And don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” The other man’s tongue snakes its way up Kyo’s ear, causing the small blonde to let out a soft breathy moan. The heat of breath on his skin, the force being used with him to keep him still, secured, controlled. The way he was being spoken to . . . It was all leading up to how he felt right now. He hated himself at the moment, for exactly that reason. The other apparently felt why as well. Up against him, through the fabric of Kyo’s beautiful dressing gown. “Well, well, it seems you’re not so unresponsive after all. . .”

“St. . .” Kyo begins through clenched teeth, but his chin is released so a finger can go over his full, painted lips.

“Shhh…. Kyo-sama. You’re not to speak. You never spoke when I knew you. And you will not speak now.” The other man’s eyes are locked on his, and Kyo finds himself unable to look away. He was suddenly searching his memory for this man, trying to remember who he was. He couldn’t. And he knew he’d remember this bird of prey if he had ever known him! Purple hair, kept in a long ponytail. The elegant way he dressed. Morbid Victorian, all black from his shiny shoes to his waist coat. Only the chain of his pocket watch was silver, the only color on his clothing. He knew he’d remember those commanding hazel eyes, the air of danger about him. The mystery in him. Yes, Kyo would have remembered him.

“No.” The man stated softly, bringing his hand away from Kyo’s mouth. He loosened his hold on him, knowing somehow that his male geisha was now tapped in a much more effective way. “No, you wouldn’t remember me.” He smirks as the other blinks. Reading other’s thoughts without actually doing so was a specialty of his. “I was never seen. Much as you were never heard.” A soft smirk. “Unless you were on stage, of course. Then it was so hard to ignore you. The voice that captured my soul. And the souls of so many others.” He smiles lightly once more, then he leans in and softly takes the delicious lips of his prey. Kyo resists one last time, trying to turn his from the other, but he finds his chin trapped once more in those deceptively thin fingers. His lips once more feel the press of the other’s, and slowly . . . slowly, Kyo gives over. He presses back into the kiss, tipping his chin up. The warmth of the other’s mouth was both inviting and intoxicating.

This is just fantasy. Kyo tells himself. Just for one night. And he seems to want this to be right. So right. So what? Let him have his fantasy. This is the last time you have to pretend. He feels himself grow harder due to the kiss. He moans softly when he feels the other’s free hand snake down and caress him, teasing him through the material shielding his body from his direct touch. Is it just pretend though? He feels the kiss break, and finds himself opening his eyes. When did I close my eyes? He searches the other’s face frantically, seeing the other’s smile.

“No.” The purple haired man states, his hands then taking Kyo’s gently. “You don’t seem to be unresponsive at all.”
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The Manipulated Life