Love Replica

Duo/Wufei. R. ~1000 words. Duo POV. AU. Supernatural. For okaasan.
Every last breath was mine to claim no matter how they died.

One last breath of wind, weak like a death rattle, and the sun sank below the horizon. The light died slowly, leaving nothing but a thin red line of red blood to mark its passing. My skin tingled, ached, as night reached out to claim the sky.

Warm summer caressed my skin like a tentative lover’s hand, secret and gentle. The beat of life surrounded me. I could smell the salty sweetness of rich, red blood on the air, in every breath of every human. It’d be so easy, so very easy to take one, to satisfy the craving that threatened to drown me and warm my cool skin.

Just one, for just one night. Morning would find us both cold.

It wasn’t a choice of if, but when. Who would live, and who would die. One night of pleasure in exchange for one life. Some realised the price before it’d been paid, felt it stealing away, trapped in my arms.

Sometimes, they fought it, the smell and taste of fear spiking so sharply that my stomach clenched as thick blood flowed into my mouth in a scalding wave. Others let it come, let me own them for the few precious moments before eyes, bright with pleasure a moment before, slowly grew dull and faded.

Every last breath was mine to claim no matter how they died. Mine and mine alone.


His pulse beat frantically under my lips. The scent of fresh blood and warm flesh and just the edge of fear curled through the still air to tempt me. My teeth pierced skin and he sucked in a sudden breath. Nothing else.

I held his wrists pinned to the wall above his head with one hand and let my fingertips trail down his bare arm. Curious, I drew back to look at his face. Smouldering black eyes stared back at me, challenging and defiant and depthless.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had watched me with eyes like those.

“You’re not afraid?” I asked him, touching his jaw and tilting his head back. Blood glistened darkly on his neck in the dim light, marking a damp trail down to his collarbone.

He didn’t answer, did nothing to indicate he’d even heard me.

My mouth touched the shallow wound I’d given him. His fingers flexed, a sound like a low moan falling from lips bruised with my kisses, as perfect to my ears as his blood was to my tongue.

“Tell me your name,” I said to him.

Black fire stared back at me, and dared me to tell him my own.


I let him live.

I could have taken my fill and killed him like the rest, but I let him live. He wouldn’t have been mine even if I had. I found another that night, warmed myself with her life and breathed her last breaths.

As she lay dying in my arms, I thought about him. I hated him for taking that moment from me, the moment she settled down to sleep without knowing she’d never wake. Her warmth was passing, pale in comparison, and didn’t last me the night. By dawn, it was nothing more than a fond memory.


I went looking for him again.

He wasn’t surprised to see me. Recognition flashed across his face, followed quickly by anticipation, an eagerness for my taste and my touch and the fear that came with it.

It made me hesitate until dark slanted eyes narrowed, defied me to claim him. I didn’t understand and thought it didn’t matter. I spread him out under me and took my time to enjoy the anger that simmered beneath his skin and heated his blood. I tasted him, the raging emotion that only humans can contain. They hate and love with the same passion, and his burned deeper than any I’d felt before.

“Tell me your name,” I said to him as he rested spent and satisfied in my arms.

He didn’t answer. I thought to kill him then, and end it.

I didn’t.


I tried to forget him.

Night after night, I ignored the urge to find him just one more time. I sought out others, endless faces, and they were never enough. One, two, three a night were not enough to keep me warm.

I needed his heat, his life to sink into and warm myself in just like I sank myself into his willing body.

I tried to tell myself I didn’t.


I watched him.

Weeks after I’d first tasted the sweet tang of him in my mouth, I searched him out again, intent on doing nothing but watching. I didn’t need devils to torment me, I tortured myself with remembering.

I saw the moment he felt me there, when he realised I’d found him again. I thought to leave but couldn’t; I thought to refuse him but didn’t. I took him to my bed again and drowned in him, wrapped his life and heat around me until the sun crested the horizon.

I grew careless. I woke to find him still sleeping, and though his dark skin bore the marks of my kiss and my touch, he still wasn’t mine.

“Tell me your name,” I whispered into his sleek black hair.

He stirred. I slipped my tongue between his lips.


I brought him to the brink of death.

My fingers, death’s fingers, traced the smooth lines of his body. His chest heaved, fighting to draw breath though the pleasure and the pain. He asked for more and I gave it to him, I gave him anything and everything he wanted, but he only asked for this.

I slid inside him again, hissing in pleasure at his startled breath and the tight clench of his body. He obsessed me, consumed me. I could feel blackness chasing him, dragging him away, bringing him closer to me.

Dawn found his heat still lingering on my skin, my every last breath his. His and his alone.


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