The Fatima Curse

“You alright? You look a little flushed.”



Shu was so absorbed with his own thoughts that he almost missed the question from the pretty blonde. He looked at the man, shaking his head slowly. “I’m fine,” he lied, “Just havin’ a little stage fright I guess. I got fuckin’ butterflies.”



Leon smiled, and Shu hated the sensuality in that smile, the effortless charm. “Understandable. This is the first time you’ve had to perform with another guy. It’s a little daunting isn’t it?”



“I’m gonna assume that word means something like scary as shit. So yeah.”



Leon laughed, reaching out to brush a strand of errant hair behind Shu’s ear. Shu had grown accustomed to the man’s random touches, but still shied away a little, making a face of slight annoyance. “You’ll do fine,” Leon soothed, “I’ll be there with you after all.”



Shu snorted and looked away from Leon’s face, his own burning bright red. He reminded himself that the routine was just a front, a way to get himself closer to the target, but that did very little to allay his nervousness. The idea of Leon touching him didn’t fill him with the anger and indignation he had expected, he was strangely enticed by the thought. “It’s a shame Uri couldn’t join you,” Leon said. The blonde’s usual ease seemed strained when he spoke of Shu’s partner, his bright eyes growing somewhat uneasy. “I haven’t seen much of him lately.”



“He’s got a life you know,” Shu shot, a little too defensively. “Maybe you should try gettin’ one for yourself. He ain’t gonna drop everything to spend time with you.”



“Oh, no,” Leon said, with his patented crooked smile. Shu hated that smile. It was so smug and crafty. “I don’t expect him to.” Leon’s eyes, back to their usual brightness, fixed on Shu intently. “You seem a little tense,” he purred, “Want me to help you relax?” The blonde slid a little closer on the sofa, fingers skirting the waistband to Shu’s jeans. “Like I did before?”



“Knock that shit off,” Shu snapped, jerking away from Leon and taking a stand. Shivers crawled through his belly and southward, but he forced them away. “I don’t get you,” the assassin growled, “You’re interested in my friend, but you make all these passes at me. I’m not fond of having my best friend get thrown away like garbage. If you’re thinkin’ of hurting him or anything, I’m gonna kick your ass.”



“How sweet,” Leon murmured. He shook his head and raised his hands in defense. “I’m not trying to hurt him. Me and Uri haven’t made any sort of commitment to each other. He doesn’t seem the type, to the tell you the truth. I also seriously doubt he’s that easy to hurt. He’s not like you, Shuuichi. He isn’t made of glass like you are.” That smile returned, foxy and crooked. “He doesn’t break like you or cut like you.”



Shu was surprised by the force of the words. Was that all he was, truly? Just some fragile, stupid child? Just some fragile, stupid child who was unable to love and be loved?



“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” Shu whispered angrily, but he could already feel the tears threatening, and he hated the man for that. “So shut your fucking mouth.”



“You’re right, I don’t know anything about you. But you don’t know the first thing about me, either, Endo Shuuichi. You walked in here and made up your mind about me. There’s nothing I can do about that. But I can tell you that I’m not out to hurt Uri, I care about him. More than I’d like to admit, actually.”



Shu felt a pang of jealousy tremble through his heart, but like his earlier arousal, he pushed it away violently. It was completely ungrounded, and the only explanation Shu could think of was the fact that he had always viewed Uri as his. Not sexually - though the idea had flirted with his subconscious on more than one occasion - but on some deeper level. Uri had been the one standing beside him, the one who had picked him up and dusted him off and loved him, in his own cruel, beautiful way.



“Fine,” Shu relented through clenched teeth, “Let’s just go get this shit over with.”



“Please, try and control your enthusiasm,” Leon said dryly.







It was a strange feeling. When he stepped out on that stage, he transcended everything that Shuuichi Endo was. He was no longer brash and violent and stupidly arrogant; he was instead graceful, sensuous, wonderfully sexy. He could feel their eyes on him, could feel their energy around him, and he got high off of it. He felt himself growing hard, and realized that he had crossed a line that would forever change him. On one level, this was wildly exciting, on another, deeply frightening.



He was standing naked in front of a crowd of horny men calling at him, and he found himself deeply turned on by it. And then Leon’s hands were on him, his arms around his slim waist, his mouth hot and wet against his throat, and Shu was moving against him, lasciviously, erotically, rocking against his firm, smooth body.



“Mm, such a naughty boy,” Leon murmured to him, nails sliding up Shu’s thigh. His emerald eyes turned on the crowd. “Is he a naughty boy?,” he asked them loudly, and everyone screamed in agreement. Leon smiled craftily, pushing Shu down on his knees, the teen’s mouth hovering over his hip, teeth gripping the sensitive flesh.



“Ss,” Leon hissed, grabbing a handful of the Asian’s hair and tugging roughly. “There’s only one thing to do with such a naughty boy.”



Shu grunted as he was shoved on all fours, Leon coming down after him, his teeth and tongue lightly grazing the teen’s shoulder-blades, his silken hair brushing at Shu’s flesh. Shu shuddered, looking out at the crowd as they screamed for his punishment. Bills flew at the stage from every direction. Shu had never felt so cheap and used and shamefully horny in his entire life.



There was a sharp, delicious pain in his backside as he was spanked, Leon jerking at his hair as though he were a wild stallion. Shu moaned and cried out, and the crowd erupted in applause and raucous calls and wild hooting. He felt delirious beneath the dizzying lights, drowning in their cheers. He felt as though he was somewhere else, watching all of this happen to some other person.



And then that pain was back, searing, and he whimpered, licking his lips as Leon’s nails dug into his stinging flesh.



“What else do naughty boy’s get?,” Leon pondered, as though he had no clue. The crowd quieted immediately. There was tension in the room, wired and sexual, and Shu could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He was turned over onto his back, his sore bottom throbbing dully. His almond eyes looked up at Leon with silent pleading, but of course, that was all a part of the show. Leon was the master here, completely and incontrovertibly, and Shu was nothing more than his willing slave.



He wondered, looking up into Leon’s blazing, gorgeous eyes, if that was really the way of things. The man had a dangerous sort of power over him.



“Such a dirty boy,” Leon murmured, stroking Shu’s cheek with his thumb. He led Shu’s hand to his cock, which had grown considerably throughout their theatrics. It pulsed strongly in his hand, and Shu gave an experimental tug, selfishly loving the small tremor that worked through Leon’s jaw. “Mnn, no no,” Leon corrected, swatting Shu’s hand away and lifting the boy’s head up, letting his cock rest against his lips. “Open up for me, now,” he said, loud enough for the breathless crowd to hear. “Be a good boy for me.”



Shu had a moment of clarity, where he realized he had traded everything for the mission. Not just this mission, but every one before it. It had started with relinquishing his childhood, and now, his own self-respect. If he didn’t have that, what did he have really? He was nothing but a killing machine. Trained for battle, equipped for stealth and precision. He had no dignity left, no shame, no honor.



He might as well have killed me with my mother, Shu thought. It was not the first time he had thought such a thing, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He would have done me a favor.



But then he thought of Uri. Not of Uri standing at his doorway, reminding him that the mission was all that mattered. No, he thought of Uri holding him when he had been small, his arms so strong that Shu had thought he could hold up the entire world. He thought of Uri standing there with him in the middle of the night, holding him against his body. “I’ll always be here,” he had said, and Shu had felt as though the entire night had trembled around them with the power of those words. “I’ll never desert you.”



Shu thought that Uri had enough honor and dignity for the both of them. And he felt that the man would always hold him up and point him in the right direction. Maybe they had been corrupted, stained in blood and tarnished by a cruel, unforgiving world. But they had each other, and Shu realized that that was really what mattered the most.



“I’ll always be here.”



Shu opened his mouth and closed his eyes, and when the feel of that hot, throbbing flesh pushed inside, he imagined that it was Uri. That it was Uri’s taste flooding his mouth, his hot skin rubbing against his tongue. And there was not enough indignation or silly boyish pride left to get in the way of that.







He saw the man approaching him and felt his stomach rise into his throat. It wasn’t the idea of killing the man that caused such a feeling of dread to fill him - he was actually looking forward to offing the fat fucker - but just the way he walked. There was a self-assured swagger to his steps as he approached Shuuichi, grinning from ear to ear.



“You were great up there,” Fletcher announced loudly. From the flush on his cheeks and the sweat stains under his arms, Shu could tell the man was drunk. “Really great.” One pudgy hand slipped down to grip Shu’s crotch, the teen gritting his teeth to stop his violent tongue. The amorphous blob was lucky he didn’t slit his throat right there in the middle of the club. “I paid for the champagne room, you know,” Fletcher told him, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. “And I requested you.”



“Heh,” Shu forced through his clenched jaw, “Yer tryin’ to flatter me, ain’t cha?”



“I’m trying,” Fletcher murmured. “So how about we go back there now?”



“I had something different in mind,” Shu purred, steeling himself as he twined his arms around the man’s neck curled his lips in a seductive smile. “Maybe we could go somewhere a little private and…” His smile widened, his fingers curling in the man’s sweaty hair. He could feel his stomach shudder in revulsion, but his face never registered this.



“Ohh,” Fletcher rumbled, meaty hands slipping down Shu’s back to squeeze his rear. “Is that right?”



“Yeah,” Shu whispered, “You’ve been pretty patient. I’m thinking you should get what you deserve.”







Considering the fact that the man easily raked in over four hundred thousand a year, Shu was a little surprised with his choice in hotels. The place was sleazy, located in a part of town where the whores and drug addicts and winos frequented. But considering the fact that the fat ass raped and mutilated children, Shu supposed he wasn’t too surprised he enjoyed the seedier side of town.



The room was as bereft of charm as the outside indicated. There was a bed, a small television that would probably pick up nothing but dead air, two nightstands with lamps, and a beaten up dresser by the door. He saw another door, firmly closed, and guessed it was the bathroom. He wasn’t too eager to look inside.



The bodyguards were down the hall. Shu hated having them even that close, but if he did his job right, Fletcher wouldn’t make a sound. By the time his thugs discovered he was dead, Shu would be long gone.



He felt nervous, unsettled. This was the first time he had ever had to get so close to a target, to involve himself past a few seconds in the night. The thought of actually having sex with the man disgusted him, but if it came to that, he knew he could do it. He had learned how to distract himself during sex a long time ago. After all, people who squirmed and fought were people who paid the price.



He wondered if the little girls had been taken to a place like this. He wondered if they had been raped and tortured in a bed that stank of piss. He was horribly saddened and infuriated by the thought. His fists balled at his sides as he stood looking at the sagging bed. He could see them lying there bound and gagged, their legs spread open vulgarly, their eyes wide and bulging with terror. He suddenly wanted to drive his knife into the man’s throat, wanted to rip him open like a fish.



But it was the mission. Everything else took back seat to the goddamn mission. It was a mission of punishment, and Fletcher was long overdue.



One less sorry piece of shit to worry about, Shu thought, I’m doin’ the world a favor here. The cops would never catch this shithead. He’s got the money to grease all the right palms.



“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Fletcher offered warmly, waving his hand absently at the bed. Shu complied, taking a seat and looking up expectantly at the man. The formalities didn’t last long of course, within minutes the man was seated beside him, making the bed creak with his considerable weight, forcing it to sag dangerously, his hands slipping Shu’s shirt off over his head, fat fingers working on the button to his jeans.



I can’t do it with him, this fucker’ll crush me like a bug. . .



The knife was strapped to the inside of his thigh. If that pudgy hand nudged a little lower, Fletcher would notice. Shu shifted, drawing the man’s attention to his groin. He didn’t like the man tugging on his dick, but it was better than being found out and having him call out to his bodyguards. That would be messy; Shu doubted he could take both of the men out at once.



“Nn,” Shu encouraged, tilting his head back in false enjoyment, “Nnn, yes.” Hot lips were on his throat then, the man’s smell pungent, filling his nose. His stomach turned, but he kept himself focused.



“Never lose focus. Never give them a chance to shake your concentration. All we have are our wits and instinct. Those are our greatest weapons.”



So Uri had told him, and Shu had found that unlike most of the things his partner had to say, the rules weren’t complete bullshit.



Fletcher’s attention was fixated on his throat. This allowed Shu to slide his jeans down his narrow hips, exposing his thighs. He saw one hand creeping down to caress this revealed bit of flesh, and he grabbed it, leading it to his hip. Fletcher’s eyes were closed, and he was humming against Shu’s skin. Shu knew that if he didn’t act fast, the man would notice the weapon.



Luckily, Shu was known for his speed. Perhaps he was a bit sloppy, not skilled and patient like Uri, but fast? Yes, he was very fast.



He pulled the knife from its sheath, and without pausing to think, rammed the blade into the man’s flabby back, jerking his neck away from Fletcher’s jaws. The man released a questioning noise, his eyes rolling up to the half naked teen. They were pathetic eyes, stupid and clueless.



“I wonder how many kids had to look up into your fat face with that same goddamn expression,” Shu spat at the man, twisting the knife and smashing a pillow into Fletcher’s face to catch his moans of pain. “I wonder how many of them begged you before you finally killed them. I’ll never know, I don’t really wanna know. What I do know is this is better than you deserve, you miserable fuck.”



The knife was pulled free, dripping with blood, and plunged into Fletcher’s side, between his ribs. Shu waited as the thrashing began. Waited for what seemed like an eternity, even after the man had stilled. After a while, Shu pushed the heavy man away, onto his back. His dead eyes stared up at the ceiling, blank and glazed. Shu did not bother to close them.



He got up from the bed, sticking the bloody knife back into its holster. He pulled on his pants and left the room, giving the bodyguards a small wave and a smile as he left.







Uriel was sitting on his bed, lost in thought. He was thinking about how he had behaved with their master, of what had come over him. It had felt as though a dark veil had fallen over his vision. He had seen red, and that was all he remembered. And something else. He had felt intense pleasure. Such violence usually interested him only in the most perfunctory way. Getting the job done. But that…



It was been exquisite. Exquisitely horribly, exquisitely beautiful. For the first time in his life, he had craved violence, he had hungered for it.



For the first time in his life, he was afraid of himself.



Lost in this thoughts, Uri did not notice Shu until he announced himself. Standing there in the doorway with tears running down his face, looking gorgeous and broken in the moonlight.



“The fucker’s dead,” he said, and then he was lumbering towards the bed, crying and disoriented. And Uri was holding him in his arms.