fliccu

Title: Linger
Pairings: OhYass
Comments: Okay so this was inspired by THIS completely awesome awesome fic by

latteswith, and me, being lame and attracted to such horror as I am, couldn't resist having a go at Bogeyman!Ohkura. It was intended to be more interesting than this, so I'm a little worried that really it's just a section out of the original fic but retardified by moi.

And this is my first OhYass evar, wtf I know, so prease not shooting or stoning.

It’s not the first night Yasuda’s awoken to the feeling of weight pressing down on his chest. Long fingernails curling into the material of his starch white hospital gown. He doesn’t even need to open his bleary eyes because he can hear it, feel it. Feel that voice, that sultry voice that corrupts his mind, purring against his ear as he tries desperately to block it out, to defend himself.

It’s not real. It’s not. He’s know it’s not. But it’s so hard to convince himself when he can feel it pressing down on him from all sides, feel it creeping slowly down his chest, under his gown, over his skin.

“Sho-chan..”

It’s there again, purring into his ears, and it’s all Yasuda can do to try and contain himself, try not to reach out for that touch. But it’s so hard. It’s so hard when the touch is so talented. When the touch makes him feel so good but so bad, all at the same time.

There’s always humour in that voice when he tries to resist it. Sick, sick humour.

“Why resist Sho-chan? I know you’ve missed me.”

Yasuda cries out when he feels his gown slipping down from his slender shoulders, replaced by sharp teeth and saliva that’s thick like blood. Yasuda cries even harder when that mouth moves up over his neck, harsh marks left over pale skin, a reminder.

“You’re mine Sho-chan.”

Suddenly, distant memories come flooding back to him. Memories of a time when he had a best friend, a time when his only contact with Ohkura was the faint scent of blood in the air and a barely audible “Sho-chan”. But not now. Now he’s alone. Trapped and captive within his own mind.

“He wasn’t good enough for you Sho-chan. He couldn’t make you feel the way I can.”

Yasuda cries out when he can taste copper against his lips, and that’s the only invitation Ohkura needs to push his tongue into Yasuda’s warm mouth. But it’s a tongue, a touch, a temptation that’s not really there. It’s not really there and Yasuda tries so desperately to believe it.

He said his name was Ohkura, he's tall with a black suit and long, long fingernails sharp enough to slit your throat. And when he walks roses grow that smell like blood.