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The Paladin	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Toshiya/Die Views: 957 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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June 5^th - 9:00 pm
Anyone else would have slept through the sound; it was so soft, so unobtrusive. Just a faint whisper of sound trickling through thin walls and still, muggy air. But it was enough to wake Die, and he listened for a moment before another quiet whimper found him sliding out of his bed, bare feet touching silently to the plush flooring. He moved as always with ghostly grace – no floorboards creaking, no shuffle of feet over carpet – out of his room and across the spacious living area of the master suite. Coming to a stop beside another room, he opened this door with a careful hand, peering inside.
Kaoru lay on his back, arms and legs spread out beneath thin covers that fell just short of a lean, bare chest. Beside him, his lover of three years – former enemy and captive of the family, Kyo Nishimura – lay on his side, curled into a miserable ball and trembling as those soft whimpers continued to issue from his throat, his face a twisted mask of pain and fear. Die watched as the familiar pattern of nightmare began to set in.
“Nn… No! …Please…” the blonde’s low voice gasped, long-fingered hands grasping and pulling at thin sheets.
“Mnh?” One of Kaoru’s dark eyes opened into a narrow slit and he rolled over languidly, long arms sliding around his lover’s waist, arched nose nuzzling against one pierced ear. “Shh, love… it’s okay… shh, I’m here.”
“We need to wake him up.”
Kyo gasped and jerked at the contact, eyes snapping open and rolling wildly. Realizing where he was, and who was touching him, he rolled over to press his face against Kaoru’s chest. The tremors that wracked hunched shoulders slowed gradually as the older man placed gentle, loving kisses over a sweat-slicked forehead, the rounded tip of a small nose, and finally on full lips. The blonde head tipped back after a moment, and Die could hear the kisses being returned, being deepened.
Usually after Kaoru halted the nightmares and settled his lover back down, the two went back to sleep wrapped in eachother’s arms, but sometimes, as with tonight…
Die bit his lip as his straining ears picked up on the faint moans his best friend was making, and the quiet mewls coming from the younger blonde. They were both stunning creatures in their own ways, but he wasn’t necessarily attracted to either man. Kaoru was his boss, his best friend, his life, and though he loved the man deeply, he could never think of him as anything other than a brother. As for Kyo… even if he weren’t irrevocably bound to Kaoru, the intensity of his personality was staggering even just as a friend. But to watch them together – to see two beautiful forms locked in not only lust but in overwhelming love and devotion – made Die’s pulse race even as his heart constricted painfully.
“I’m trying! He keeps drifting back out.”
Kyo’s lithe body shifted and rose beneath the covers to straddle Kaoru’s hips, bent low to maintain the increasingly fervent kiss that locked them together. A rising cadence of panting and groaning filled the room as the blonde took up an unmistakable movement grinding against his older lover. Outside, a hand tattooed with a sweeping scale pattern slid down to clutch furtively, guiltily at a rapidly hardening erection.
When their mouths broke apart, thin fingers dripping with tattoos came up to press between full lips. Kyo took the digits into his mouth eagerly, staring down into Kaoru’s eyes with a needy gaze as he licked and sucked with lusty little noises that drove the older man crazy.
“Gods, you’re beautiful…“ Kaoru’s voice was a husky murmur.
“Come on, wake up. You need to wake up.”
Die watched with dark, envious eyes as Kaoru’s hand disappeared again under the covers and Kyo’s back arched deliciously. The blonde’s moans reached a fevered pitch and he dug his fingers into Kaoru’s shoulders impatiently, rocking back against invading fingers. When finally they joined together, it was too much, and lonely tears stung Die’s eyes as he silently climaxed into his own hand and boxers. But still he watched as their bodies moved together; hands stroking and grasping, mouths panting and kissing, eyes bright with love when they weren’t rolled back with pleasure.
Dark eyes rolled behind half-parted lashes, a soft grunt escaping elegantly curved lips as Die slowly came back to himself. He was distinctly aware of his upper half having been stripped bare, and the cold steel surface against his back was not his only clue. The horrible sting-and-slide along the gash on his chest was all too familiar, and if he ever had to get a wound stitched again in his life, it would be too soon. Backlit by glaring florescent lights, the indistinct features of the person with the needle were framed by long, auburn hair above him. Thankfully, he was still wearing his customary black sunglasses, and the lights were not as painful as they would have been. What he could make out of the shadowed face was vaguely feminine and not at all familiar enough for him to be okay with the close proximity. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he began to tense, ready to strike out.
“Die, don’t.” A voice he recognized came from his left side, calling his attention to another backlit face, this one framed by a shock of feathery blond spikes. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re at home.”
“Kg… Kyo?” the redhead gurgled, confused. “What… where…?”
“Please try to hold still, Daisuke,” The figure on his right scolded gently. “I’m almost done here.”
“You’re not… you’re… Terachi?” Die slurred through a heavy tongue.
He felt like he was trying to think through a heavy fog. The last thing he remembered was leaving the Niikura headquarters with Kaoru to meet someone, and then… nothing. A splitting headache, the gaping wound on his chest, and the faint tingle in his hand that indicated he’d recently fired his gun were concerning signs of a fight he didn‘t recall. He had no idea how he’d come to be wherever he was – it looked like a conference room? – or why the Head of the Terachi family was there with him, giving him medical care.
A faint smile crossed full lips. “Yes.”
“Why are you… stitching…?”
“Because you are wounded. I apologize that the need for discretion in this situation prevents us from getting you proper medical treatment.”
“Oh.” That made sense. Wait… no… no, that didn’t answer his actual question at all. He looked to Kyo instead. “Why is he-… hey, what… are you… crying?”
The blonde’s eyes were bloodshot, his face blotchy and taught with worry. Die found himself reaching out a curious hand to catch a warm tear halfway down a soft, round cheek. Kyo – stubborn, proud, passionate Kyo who slid effortlessly between profound introspection and wicked, brazen debauchery – choked on a sob and turned his face away to rub as his eyes with a shaking hand.
“You don’t remember anything, do you?” the blonde asked despondently.
Die frowned, worry building in his stomach. He should know what was wrong, he realized. Something was direly amiss and the memory of it was fluttering just out of reach of his dizzy mind. When the thread holding his flesh together was tied off and trimmed, he sat up and scanned the room.
Shinya, ever the elegant professional in crisp pinstriped slacks, the matching jacket set aside so the long sleeves of a white dress shirt could be rolled up over whipcord arms. He was peeling off blood-streaked latex gloves and cleaning up the mess of sterile thread and bloody antiseptic wipes. His lovely face was, as usual, a stoic mask of calculating authority, but the strain of worry could be seen around his eyes.
Kyo, having long since abandoned the tailored suits he’d worn as the Terachi family’s Prophet, was dressed in torn up jeans and a sleeveless shirt. Bare, tattooed arms were wrapped defensively around his chest, strong shoulders trembling uncontrollably. The blond head was bowed, dark gold eyes narrow, as the smaller man fought to regain his composure.
Toshiya Hara, Shinya’s ever-vigilant bodyguard, stood behind his boss in the antiquated, almost feminine suits he preferred. Rich black fabric conformed gracefully to slender limbs and a narrow waist, jacket tails fluttering behind impossibly long legs. He was watching Die with a troubling mix of sympathy, concern, and pity, chewing at his lower lip.
Die’s heart froze as he scanned the room once more, his stitches pulling painfully as he twisted around to check every corner. The one person that should have been there – that was always there, that Die had assumed was there because he had beenevery waking moment since the day Die was born, around whom Die’s life revolved wholly and absolutely – was not.
“Where the fuck is Kaoru?”
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The Paladin