D. Gray-man, (Ticky/Rabi)
Jul. 5th, 2007 12:03 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
allira-dream.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: House of the Rising Sun.
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: AU, smut.
Word count: 1590
Summary: People should be important, more than just words written for History.
A/N: This was written before chapter 100, so treat it as an AU of the AU, if that makes sense.
Prompt: D. Gray-man, Tyki/Rabi: What if the Bookman had decided to observe the world's last great conflict from the perspective of the House of Noah? - Ravi isn't exactly renowned for the quality of his emotional detachment from his subject matter.
House of the Rising Sun
Ticky fucks him good and slow, his hands tight around his hips, thrusting as if he could take all day doing this, and Rabi doesn't really want to wonder if he can or not, not with Ticky being able to bend pleasure until it hurts.
Rabi let's go of the headboard with one hand and instead curls his hand on his cock and he fucks his hand hard and fast, the way Ticky isn't fucking him, gasping when he still is at the edge of orgasm despite everything.
Ticky chuckles, warm spiced brandy as he pushes his hips back unto his dick. Rabi lets go of the headboard completely and leans over the mattress, head against his arm.
“Hey, what's the rush?” Ticky asks. Rabi can't help but laugh a little, even as he keeps jerking off.
“Fuck you,” he gasps. Ticky laughs again but then he finally speeds up and Rabi moans gratefully.
“Next time? Sure.” and Rabi can't be sure if Ticky did something or if he had been on the brink of orgasm for long enough, but suddenly he's coming all over the sheets.
**
Ticky offers him the cigarette and Rabi doesn't hesitate to take it and have a drag, smoke curling inside his throat and mouth before he lets it free and gives the smoke back to the Noah.
He never takes more than a drag, mainly because Bookman would have a fit if he did, but also because he doesn't care much about it. He'd rather watch Ticky hold it on his lips as he deals with the cards and his two friends laugh with him.
Watch how the kid adores him. Rabi follows the red cord around the boy's neck and tries not to think much of the way Ticky had killed that man. It's hard to reconcile the picture of that murderer with this slouchy, hobo Ticky.
He doesn't always travel with Ticky. Few times here and there, then he's with Jasdebi because history most be recorded from every possibility and then he's with Skin. He never goes with Road, orders of the old man. Only when he's at the house does he spend time with Road.
But she's fun and kind of nice in a psycho kind of way, and he has a blast with the twins, and Skin is kind of sweet in a really awful way, and it's as if he's seeing them from a concave mirror, everything upside down and twisted until he's not sure what's right and what's wrong.
He doesn't know what Ticky is. When he's white, he's so normal. Rabi wouldn't have noticed him from every other person from the way he talked and moved. When he's black he never hesitates when he takes out organs and then he fucks him against a wall or goes down on him until Rabi comes deep in his throat.
He doesn't understand any of the Noah, but trying to understand Ticky Mick might make him go crazy.
**
“That kid.”
“What kid?”
“Y'know, the exorcist. Walker”
“What with him?”
“Think he survived?”
“Dunno. Why?”
“Just askin'.”
“Having second thoughts about staying in our side, Bookman?”
“I'm not Bookman yet, you asshole! And anyway, I'm not in your side. It's just a chance that the old geezer decided we should watch from here.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“You worried about the kid, aren't you?”
**
Sometimes he wonders, though, what would've happened if Bookman had decided to stay with the Church. Rabi sometimes thinks that he feels his Innocence burn when he uses it, and he wonders if his innocence thinks that basically taking shelter with the Noah is a treason, if one day his Innocence will turn against him.
He's still a little afraid of the Noah, after all. Not as much as he was when he first met them, but enough that he still wonders if one day, despite their truce, they'll destroy his innocent and rip out his heart.
Then Road asks him help for her homework, claiming he already knows it, or Jasdebi will make him laugh, or Ticky will smile at him after he has been gone for months and ask him how he's doing, a cigarette hanging from between long fingers and he forgets his doubts and instead he wonders which side will win.
“That's not our job,” Bookman tells him quietly whenever he asks.
**
Bookman tells him they're gonna be watching from the sidelines, two days before the final battle starts. It doesn't surprise Rabi, but it still makes him feel a little hollow, thinking of how Skin's and Jasdebi's deaths meant so little when written in white pages.
It seems unfair, he thinks, that people lives (because from both sides, there are people fighting) to mean so little. He never understood neutrality before.
So he goes to Ticky's room and he's still black, but Rabi wonders what he told his friends, what he told to that little kid who so openly adores him, in case he doesn't come back.
Ticky gives him a smirk, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Heard you're getting vacations soon.”
Rabi still doesn't understand the Noah, or just why they decided to follow the Earl. He knows their history, of course, just as well as he knows the Church's story, and yet he doesn't understand it. Bookman says that understanding isn't important because it's not their duty to do so, but he's so fucking tired of that, of having to stay on the line, of people he might care about dying.
He takes the cigarette away from Ticky's lips and kisses him, hears the muffled surprise from the Noah before his tongue presses inside his mouth, a gloved hand pressing curled around the nape of his neck and he's being pushed to the bed.
He has fucked Ticky fifteen times in the five years they've known each other. Ticky has fucked him twenty three. All that's not counting blowjobs or frottage or anything else. This is only the third time they've kissed, and Rabi is wary of breaking apart even to breathe.
Ticky is the one to push him apart, but it's only enough to take off his coat, gloves and vest, open his trousers. Rabi follows and takes off his own, unable to do the same with his shirt when Ticky turns him face down on the mattress, slick fingers pressing inside his hole, fast and hard, the way Ticky rarely does, hedonist bastard that he is.
When Ticky's cock replaces his fingers, it's still faster and harder than usual. He's been stretched out enough, but he still gasps, holding tightly to the sheets, crouched on all fours, sweat covering his body.
He feels Ticky bend forward, a shadow of warmth against the damp of his shirt, Ticky's tongue almost cat-like against his neck. He reaches for his cock, but Ticky takes over that, too, his hand coming forward to stroke it, liquid fire running through every nerve of Rabi's body.
He pants, closing his eye, rocking back and forth against Ticky's cock, feeling Ticky's mouth biting his shoulder. Rabi groans, feeling Ticky's hand tigthens almost painfully around his cock and he can't stop but bucking into its grip. Ticky never fucks him like this, not even when he's really Black and the bloodlust seems to be singing inside his veins, and Rabi knows that he's going to end up sore, but he can't even mind because it might be the last time and this is important, people should be important, more than just words written for History, because History doesn't care about the details that made them people, even if the people is the one that writes it.
Ticky bites him again, a sudden flare of pain at his neck that makes Rabi moan out loud and his cock jumps in his grasp, shooting its first load of come. Ticky jacks him off through it until Rabi is almost too sensitive to continue, but then Ticky closes his hands on his hips and fucks him even harder, faster, before he feels him come inside him, then collapsing against his back before closing his eye.
When he opens his eye again, Ticky has his cigarette on his lips and is taking a slow drag. He has taken off his shirt but he's still wearing his trousers, and when Rabi moves, he isn't very surprised to find out he isn't wearing his shirt either and he watches Ticky for a few moments.
History won't know that Ticky's absolute shit in maths. Or how he likes to cuddle. The knowledge of that will remain only on him, bittersweet without no one else to care about it.
He doesn't move from the bed even when Ticky stands up and starts dressing, and he keeps his eye open, following him lazily. The cigarette burns away on the ashtray and then Ticky Mick of the Noah is ready.
It's Rabi who takes out a new cigarette and lights it up, taking a long, sweet drag of it before blowing the smoke, offering it. Ticky takes it, another long drag of his smoke burning on his lips, keeps it on long fingers and as the smoke curls around his lips before he leans forward to kiss him. Rabi reaches for him, curls his hand in black hair and chases the taste of ashes with his tongue.
Ticky winks at him and hands him back the cigarette.
“See you at the other end.”
Rabi smiles and takes the cigarette.
“Yeah. See you there.”
Author/Artist:
allira_dreamRating: NC17.
Warnings: AU, smut.
Word count: 1590
Summary: People should be important, more than just words written for History.
A/N: This was written before chapter 100, so treat it as an AU of the AU, if that makes sense.
Prompt: D. Gray-man, Tyki/Rabi: What if the Bookman had decided to observe the world's last great conflict from the perspective of the House of Noah? - Ravi isn't exactly renowned for the quality of his emotional detachment from his subject matter.
House of the Rising Sun
Ticky fucks him good and slow, his hands tight around his hips, thrusting as if he could take all day doing this, and Rabi doesn't really want to wonder if he can or not, not with Ticky being able to bend pleasure until it hurts.
Rabi let's go of the headboard with one hand and instead curls his hand on his cock and he fucks his hand hard and fast, the way Ticky isn't fucking him, gasping when he still is at the edge of orgasm despite everything.
Ticky chuckles, warm spiced brandy as he pushes his hips back unto his dick. Rabi lets go of the headboard completely and leans over the mattress, head against his arm.
“Hey, what's the rush?” Ticky asks. Rabi can't help but laugh a little, even as he keeps jerking off.
“Fuck you,” he gasps. Ticky laughs again but then he finally speeds up and Rabi moans gratefully.
“Next time? Sure.” and Rabi can't be sure if Ticky did something or if he had been on the brink of orgasm for long enough, but suddenly he's coming all over the sheets.
**
Ticky offers him the cigarette and Rabi doesn't hesitate to take it and have a drag, smoke curling inside his throat and mouth before he lets it free and gives the smoke back to the Noah.
He never takes more than a drag, mainly because Bookman would have a fit if he did, but also because he doesn't care much about it. He'd rather watch Ticky hold it on his lips as he deals with the cards and his two friends laugh with him.
Watch how the kid adores him. Rabi follows the red cord around the boy's neck and tries not to think much of the way Ticky had killed that man. It's hard to reconcile the picture of that murderer with this slouchy, hobo Ticky.
He doesn't always travel with Ticky. Few times here and there, then he's with Jasdebi because history most be recorded from every possibility and then he's with Skin. He never goes with Road, orders of the old man. Only when he's at the house does he spend time with Road.
But she's fun and kind of nice in a psycho kind of way, and he has a blast with the twins, and Skin is kind of sweet in a really awful way, and it's as if he's seeing them from a concave mirror, everything upside down and twisted until he's not sure what's right and what's wrong.
He doesn't know what Ticky is. When he's white, he's so normal. Rabi wouldn't have noticed him from every other person from the way he talked and moved. When he's black he never hesitates when he takes out organs and then he fucks him against a wall or goes down on him until Rabi comes deep in his throat.
He doesn't understand any of the Noah, but trying to understand Ticky Mick might make him go crazy.
**
“That kid.”
“What kid?”
“Y'know, the exorcist. Walker”
“What with him?”
“Think he survived?”
“Dunno. Why?”
“Just askin'.”
“Having second thoughts about staying in our side, Bookman?”
“I'm not Bookman yet, you asshole! And anyway, I'm not in your side. It's just a chance that the old geezer decided we should watch from here.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“You worried about the kid, aren't you?”
**
Sometimes he wonders, though, what would've happened if Bookman had decided to stay with the Church. Rabi sometimes thinks that he feels his Innocence burn when he uses it, and he wonders if his innocence thinks that basically taking shelter with the Noah is a treason, if one day his Innocence will turn against him.
He's still a little afraid of the Noah, after all. Not as much as he was when he first met them, but enough that he still wonders if one day, despite their truce, they'll destroy his innocent and rip out his heart.
Then Road asks him help for her homework, claiming he already knows it, or Jasdebi will make him laugh, or Ticky will smile at him after he has been gone for months and ask him how he's doing, a cigarette hanging from between long fingers and he forgets his doubts and instead he wonders which side will win.
“That's not our job,” Bookman tells him quietly whenever he asks.
**
Bookman tells him they're gonna be watching from the sidelines, two days before the final battle starts. It doesn't surprise Rabi, but it still makes him feel a little hollow, thinking of how Skin's and Jasdebi's deaths meant so little when written in white pages.
It seems unfair, he thinks, that people lives (because from both sides, there are people fighting) to mean so little. He never understood neutrality before.
So he goes to Ticky's room and he's still black, but Rabi wonders what he told his friends, what he told to that little kid who so openly adores him, in case he doesn't come back.
Ticky gives him a smirk, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Heard you're getting vacations soon.”
Rabi still doesn't understand the Noah, or just why they decided to follow the Earl. He knows their history, of course, just as well as he knows the Church's story, and yet he doesn't understand it. Bookman says that understanding isn't important because it's not their duty to do so, but he's so fucking tired of that, of having to stay on the line, of people he might care about dying.
He takes the cigarette away from Ticky's lips and kisses him, hears the muffled surprise from the Noah before his tongue presses inside his mouth, a gloved hand pressing curled around the nape of his neck and he's being pushed to the bed.
He has fucked Ticky fifteen times in the five years they've known each other. Ticky has fucked him twenty three. All that's not counting blowjobs or frottage or anything else. This is only the third time they've kissed, and Rabi is wary of breaking apart even to breathe.
Ticky is the one to push him apart, but it's only enough to take off his coat, gloves and vest, open his trousers. Rabi follows and takes off his own, unable to do the same with his shirt when Ticky turns him face down on the mattress, slick fingers pressing inside his hole, fast and hard, the way Ticky rarely does, hedonist bastard that he is.
When Ticky's cock replaces his fingers, it's still faster and harder than usual. He's been stretched out enough, but he still gasps, holding tightly to the sheets, crouched on all fours, sweat covering his body.
He feels Ticky bend forward, a shadow of warmth against the damp of his shirt, Ticky's tongue almost cat-like against his neck. He reaches for his cock, but Ticky takes over that, too, his hand coming forward to stroke it, liquid fire running through every nerve of Rabi's body.
He pants, closing his eye, rocking back and forth against Ticky's cock, feeling Ticky's mouth biting his shoulder. Rabi groans, feeling Ticky's hand tigthens almost painfully around his cock and he can't stop but bucking into its grip. Ticky never fucks him like this, not even when he's really Black and the bloodlust seems to be singing inside his veins, and Rabi knows that he's going to end up sore, but he can't even mind because it might be the last time and this is important, people should be important, more than just words written for History, because History doesn't care about the details that made them people, even if the people is the one that writes it.
Ticky bites him again, a sudden flare of pain at his neck that makes Rabi moan out loud and his cock jumps in his grasp, shooting its first load of come. Ticky jacks him off through it until Rabi is almost too sensitive to continue, but then Ticky closes his hands on his hips and fucks him even harder, faster, before he feels him come inside him, then collapsing against his back before closing his eye.
When he opens his eye again, Ticky has his cigarette on his lips and is taking a slow drag. He has taken off his shirt but he's still wearing his trousers, and when Rabi moves, he isn't very surprised to find out he isn't wearing his shirt either and he watches Ticky for a few moments.
History won't know that Ticky's absolute shit in maths. Or how he likes to cuddle. The knowledge of that will remain only on him, bittersweet without no one else to care about it.
He doesn't move from the bed even when Ticky stands up and starts dressing, and he keeps his eye open, following him lazily. The cigarette burns away on the ashtray and then Ticky Mick of the Noah is ready.
It's Rabi who takes out a new cigarette and lights it up, taking a long, sweet drag of it before blowing the smoke, offering it. Ticky takes it, another long drag of his smoke burning on his lips, keeps it on long fingers and as the smoke curls around his lips before he leans forward to kiss him. Rabi reaches for him, curls his hand in black hair and chases the taste of ashes with his tongue.
Ticky winks at him and hands him back the cigarette.
“See you at the other end.”
Rabi smiles and takes the cigarette.
“Yeah. See you there.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 08:56 am (UTC)Amazing job. ♥ x3
no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 07:11 pm (UTC)(Damn you, last chapters of D.Gray-man)no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 12:57 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 12:59 am (UTC)Thank you~ I was really happy with how this one came, actually ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 01:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-09 02:13 am (UTC)I like how the other characters are in it too!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-10 11:40 pm (UTC)That. I loved that. Oh god I loved that so much. So, so, so much. *flail* I'm incoherent. But that ficbit I posted at that random spot on your journal..why did I post it there? I don't know, because it was in reaction to Tyki fucking Rabi and being solid because it was something he wanted to touch and and and I love you.
Oh Rabi, you're. Way too. I don't even knoooow, but I love you Nina, oh my god, LOVE YOU. *flails pathetically*
no subject
Date: 2008-04-11 04:17 am (UTC)Love you tooooo babeeeee!!
no subject
Date: 2009-04-16 07:01 pm (UTC)