breathe in your smoke.
He rests her head on Rhode's lap, feels her fingers caressing his hair, hears her whispers: "Shhh, everything's fine. Go back to sleep."
The boy is always close, when he dreams. Black and white and red, cutting through his Tease and through the darkness and nothing can stop the darkness, nothing should be able to make it disappear except for the boy moving, with his white gloves --
-- his white gloves are dirty. There's red on them, blood soaking through them
but he's the only one who can see it. It's dripping, though,
huge red splatters that go everywhere, down his uniform
and down his arms and down Tyki's face when he touches him--
He touches him and it burns, the Innocence rushing through Tyki's skin and it's shattering him, making him crumble like sand and the boy steps closer; his eyes are golden and heavy as he looks at him, the way his smile curves different, but it fits with the way he moves, even on the way his hair falls down on the cursed eye--
-- the cursed eye shows him Tyki's soul, white and black and white again,
and Tyki is not an akuma so he shouldn't be able to see his soul
but he can see it and he doesn't think it's wrong that he can,
instead he wishes he could feel more of that as he preses closer,
breathes in the fear-lust-pleasure-fear that surrounds Tyki,
and he wants more of it. More of this and more of everything,
and when he bites, Tyki moans--
Tyki moans and hisses and curses, the boy's hand still splayed on his chest, burning him, and now his teeth mark his neck and Tyki's body craves for this as well as he smolders because of this; he moves his hands, tugging Walker closer, pushing him, hurting him; tearing at the Exorcist's black coat that doesn't fit there, that doesn't go there, tearing until there's only white and red skin and bruised, scarred skin, and Walker laughs as he pushes his hands inside his body--
-- inside his body, he can feel the way Tyki moves his hands
and he moves his head away from Tyki's neck, smiling at Tyki,
smiling at the way Tyki's eyes are wide and golden like--
Like their eyes, Tyki thinks in his panic-slash-lust and both he and Walker moan as he moves his hands again, so that one is in Walker's throat, and Tyki laughs as he thinks what it would be to be Allen Walker, what it would be to be him and find out that he didn't have vocal cords anymore when he wakes up--
--he wakes up with gasp, shuddering and soaked in cold sweat,
his own hand curled on on his throat, breathing hard,
blinking until he's sure that he's in a world where there are more colors
than black and red and white and gold,
shaking his head when questioned if there's anything wrong at all.
"Everything's fine, Link," and his voice sounds harsh,
as if someone had tried to tear his vocal cords from his throat.
"Go back to sleep."