The Destiny of a Stolen Heart

An unwanted touch
Bites the skin
Iced in pleasure
Melting in sin

White walls are plain and boring yet if you stare long enough they can almost loosely weave you a small tale with each stain, crack and imperfection. A patchwork of off colored paints attempts to hide the blemishes but as time wears on the paint peels and reveals who you truly are.

Nearly twelve weeks ago Kurama had awakened in a side ally dressed in all white, without a single substantial memory, just a nagging feeling he didn’t belong and pain. A lot of pain. His body burned to the core. Each follicle smoldered and sparked in excruciating waves. His lung felt as if full of powdered glass, with each breath he covered his mouth expecting his palms to be dripping with blood. The sounds, the people even the smells were sickeningly foreign. His brain physical felt twice as large as his skull. His only prayer death. His body gave him the next best thing, peace in blessed catatonia.

However the basic needs of your body will forever out way your own petty ones. Just as rock beats scissors, hunger beats pain and it was this hunger drove Kurama into action. He pillaged for scraps but he yearned for a meal, fish succulent fish. He stood next to the water edge in front of a hip height white sign. Ignoring the posted message, he studied the elliptical pattern of one large fish. One large delicious large fish, his stomach added with a impatient growl. His body encouraged him to make his move. Kurama tied his hair back with bit of found twine into a pony tail, then he slowly picked up his crudely sharpened stick, he glanced around one finally time and dove in. His first and only strike provided him with a seven inch fish. Not the fish he was aiming for but food is food and time was not on his side.

This pleasure was short lived as a patrol boat motored towards the docks. Panicked he swam under the dock and waited for the security boat to pass. The slime and seaweed painted his skin as he pressed his cheek against the under side of the dock bargaining for a breath of air with each rolling wave during the high tide. After a couple of minutes he swam out from under the low-lying dock, gripping the stick in his mouth with his teeth as he hoisted himself onto the deck. A man three times his senior, whom he has caught, following him on numerous occasions, stood knowingly on the edge. He offered Kurama a hand and a lecherous smile. His six sense screamed at him to slap the hand away and swim to a distant shore, but he ignored that nagging feeling, because he was to hungry to care plus with a still flopping fish skewered on a stick gripped in you mouth as you climb onto a dock with two huge no fishing being rude would not bode well. He grabbed the offered hand tightly, allowing the older gentleman to pull him out of the water and flush against his bandaged chest.

A callous hand rested familiarly on the small of Kurama’s back. “Now, my little water nymph I have been watching you for awhile, and if it is food your body’s desire then by all means let me be the one to indulge you.” His hot breath nearly scolded Kurama’s neck.

The man sang of endless feasts. He painted a delectable mural of desserts and wines. With every word and image he gave Kurama he took an inch of liberty. His finger tip played under the drawstring holding the teen’s pants up.

“Come back to my home and we can feast on our wants and satisfy our needs.”

Kurama wondered how something that repulsed him so much made him yearn for more. The carnal pleasures of the skin flood his young mind with every roll and shift of the hip. Kurama could almost hear the whine of lovers past panting in his ear, almost. The hulking weight pressing into the fifteen year old body he now possessed rudely dragged him back to his present reality as the “Oh, fuck” mantra pulsed in his ear. In this world he was nothing more the a quick lay for a old man with a stalking problem and multiple fetishes, Kurama quickly added as his fingertips brushed against a half eaten corn cob In the past other made love to him because they wanted him, this stranger fucked him because he believed he owned or owed him. Kurama laughed at the justified irony, and his new role.


Sex is messy. Cooking oil and cum seeped from his previously virginal hole and trailed down his bruised thighs. But stealing from a man after he was sated was very easy. Each gold bobble, diamond encrusted trinket and irreplaceable heirloom cleared away more of the fog that plagued his mind. He vividly remembered another aspect of his past life. He was a thief, but not just a common street thug. No, he was Inari’s best, and he had the silver tails to prove it. Fame and impressive titles was his heart desire so many lifetimes ago, now had one goal survival. Within minutes after sliding out from under that man he had acquired more things he could possible need or use. His heart and soul felt as cold and soiled as the sheets crumpled next to the slumbering man. He heaved the large filled pillow case out the window, and disappeared.


Young broken doll into the night you shall dwell
Angelic voices shriek your name lost in your hell