[One Shot] Wash Away, Darker than BLACK
Title: Wash Away
Author/Artist: lenainverse
Rating: R
Warnings: Masturbation
Prompt: Hei/Yin; shower sex - "It's like she's touching him with the water."
Word count: 820
A/N: Thanks to parsnip_chan for her lovely beta. *snuggles* Written for springkink.


Hei is used to blood. It’s almost heady, the smell of it, reminding him who he has become. The black of his clothing and hair almost hides the color, but there’s one streak, surprisingly red against his cheek.

He always cleans his knife first, unwilling to sacrifice its care for his own. Habit makes him wipe it clean, but all Hei can think of is the sullied cloth.

It’s not that this blood is different than usual. It’s not even Contractor’s blood, which tends, somehow, to feel different. And yet this does. Either the adrenaline from the fight or the source is making Hei think overly about it.

With his knife securely placed on the rim of the sink, Hei turns on the shower, setting the spray all the way hot. He can still reach the knife from the shower, but it’s only barely on his mind such that he almost forgets to check. He kicks off his boots, gazing down at a trail of smeared, bloody treads that he’s left on the tile.

He’s never showered with his clothes on before; he tries not to think about how everything is sticking to him, turning the bottom of the tub red. Everything should be washed away eventually. Everything.

The spray hits his face, the shower head forcing it out almost painfully. The water becomes streams, mockingly gentle, that cascade down his body.

It’s not so much a feeling, physically, as a sense Hei has. He raises his head, instincts at capacity, searching for any noise, ready to leap. But then he feels something, a slight touch lingering along his back in the stream of water. He knows, instantly, that it’s her.

Yin knowing about his apartment, kept secret for matters the Syndicate shouldn’t care for, is almost a betrayal, but not a shock and not one that he minds. He cares more about his state, as if she can see what he’s thinking, because the way the water moves over him makes him think that she were comforting him.

Nothing she can do now will make him comfortable, but even so he doesn’t wish it to stop. Hei turns his face into the spray, eyes sliding shut, feeling every rivulet of water that’s dragging the stain of blood down his body. It reminds him of Pai, when he would clean her face of blood after a kill while she slept. He had always been the one to protect her, always vigilant and always watching.

That hasn’t changed, but Hei’s heart is racing and something -- something has. He looks down, his black clothes clinging to him and showing no trace of blood, and yet the water at his feet won’t run clear. It’s never going to. It remains with him, always, and soon he’ll be half mad, consumed.

Yin’s water doesn’t mind and keeps on flowing, probably just the way it always has but something, the heat to it or the way it moves like a thing alive, makes it so different. Nothing is the same about tonight, not the spray that seems to whisper over him or the blood that it’s rinsing away.

He often wondered how much Yin could see through the water, whether it was like literal vision or more of a sense. Now he knows; he can feel her water exploring him like fingertips, revealing all his secrets, leaving him no choice but to lay them bare.

Yin is more alive than most credited her for, Hei knows that. But when he looked in her eyes, they were a doll’s. It’s only now that he can tell, for the first time, how deeply she feels. He tells himself that it’s her choice and not just for his sake, but he knows he’ll never believe it.

Hei almost doesn’t notice at first, the way his body is acting on its own, one of the rare moments it behaves without his consent. Yin can feel it too, no point in hiding, and so he slides one hand down to open his pants, refusing to consider what he’s about to do. He touches himself gently at first, for her sake, and then with urgency, because there is no other way to get the stink of blood away from him.

It must have been a long time since Hei’s come into the shower, because his skin feels tight, his fingertips pruning. He closes his eyes and Yin is all around him, everywhere, flowing over his closed eyelids and his clothed chest and his moving hand. He moves faster, almost apologetically, because he can imagine her blank eyes and he doesn’t want her to share this any longer than necessary.

His finish is hard, longer than he would have liked, washing down the drain with the last pink streaks of blood.

Yin rinses it all away.

Hei is still for just another moment, then tenses when the water turns suddenly cold.