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Open Heart

Name: Schala-Kitty

Disclaimer: I own naught of Kingdom Hearts and I'm sure that Disney and Square-Enix want absolutely nothing to do with me.

Category: Gore, Torture, Necrophilia

Rating: Lemon

Summary: Xemnas/Ienzo A reinterpretation of the concept of losing one's heart.

Any notes you want to add: This is gore of a most medical sort.

There had never been a more poetic turn of events. Ienzo, essentially high priest presiding over their blood sacrifices, now found himself on the operating table turned alter. Stripped and strapped down, nothing but the thick, rough leather splattered with the fluids of his comrades covered his lithe form. He knew the fate that awaited him all too well, having preformed it five times from the other side of the scalpel. Though, to be fair, the ritual had not been finalized until the second time. Braig had been the first to experience that consumption and he had patiently waited his own turn. Of course, he had to be the last - his talented fingers had been required to guide the others across the ravine he now faced. For his own crossing, Even - no, Vexen now, would be escorting him. Yes, Vexen...and Xemnas.

The process though had begun weeks before. So many agonist drugs had been pumped into his skull that neurotransmitters like dopamine and serotonin now drifted about aimless and purposeless inside his cerebrospinal fluid. One by one, his thyroid, thymus, and adrenal glands had been torn from his body, ridding him of useless hormones. Now would be the final surgery, the final release from that twitching and impotent muscle in his chest.

No luxuries like anesthesia would be afforded to Ienzo. This last night of life as he knew it had to be filled with the full width and breath of "human" experience in order to facilitate the change. Xemnas, their Superior graced with vision and knowledge, had shown them this way personally. Even now, he watched as Vexen made the first long, slow incision, marking a blood red leyline down the boy's chest. Then came the bone saw which moved in and out of the writhing body in jerky thrusts and retractions until it turned slick with interstitial fluid and began to slide with more grace and ease. All the while, the young researcher howled and cursed vehemently as tears rolled down his cheeks in anguish from the pain. The wailing reached a crescendo as the retractor buried its claws under his bones and split his ribs asunder.

There it was - the miracle of the human body exposed in all its shivering, pulsating glory. The other members of their small Organization looked on as pure gray lungs expanded and contracted with each fluttering breath and how his empty stomach pumped bile up his quivering esophagus only to have it be swallowed down again. But the focus was on the unsteady shudder of his frightened heart, quite obviously aware of its immanent demise. With a sadistic purr, Xemnas removed his cloak to reveal nothing beneath its leather folds but tanned skin and a pulsating erection as he walked to the operating table.

The stirrups spread Inezo's legs wider with the creak of rusted metal. The poor boy was sobbing frantically, his face soaked in tears and mucus. It had been so easy to perform as the surgeon, but as the patient he could barely maintain the consciousness needed to let the ritual proceed. And it would proceed as Xemnas hovered over his body, so prone, so pained. No lubricant would aid him either as that clearly Superior cock lined up with his calculatedly exposed opening. With no pomp or preparation he slammed into the shaking body, pushing his way through the rebelling sphincters. The assistant screamed, his vocal cords stretching and vibrating until they were on the verge of snapping. His entire body was going to rupture from the inside-out and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Xemnas held nothing back for their ritual. The speed at which he pounded the smaller body was calculated to bring the most overwhelming sensations to the other. Even now, he watched as the aorta and the pulmonary artery quaked with Ienzo's rapid-fire pulse and eagerly awaited the coming rapturous rupture. As it turned out though, the boy could not take much more torture as forced his remaining coherency into a single horse cry, "Kill me! Kill me now!"

Being a merciful god of naught, the Superior took hold of his assistant's long locks and slammed his skull on to the cold metal table. Somehow, over the screams and the noise of his own violent fucking, he could hear the sound of blood vessels expanding and exploding inside Ienzo's brain. With all good luck, the limbic system would be flooded in the fiery cleansing blood of the anterior choroidal artery, washing away all semblance of emotion from the angry amygdala to the hedonistic nucleus accumbens. At least for the moment, the aneurysm turned stroke managed to quell Ienzo's thirst for the freedom allowed by death.

Still though his heart beat on in flagrant defiance of its master's need to be severed from the mortal coil. That too could be handled through this lovingly rough ritual. As Xemnas continued to assault the nearly lifeless body, the poor muscle was being strained beyond all resistance to pure mechanical stresses. Somewhere within the molten, sanguine core release was still mounting though now it was contained inside something far more like a rigor mortis induced priapism than an actual erection. It was the very fact though that there could be no exclamatory ejaculation with the necessary parts of the brain currently wallowing and dying in their own contaminated fluids would do him in. Like a watch wound and tightened beyond its limits, Ienzo's heart ripped itself from the confines of his chest as the arteries tore themselves apart from the force of the sex still shredding and slashing away inside him.

Vexen sprang back into action then, sealing the burst vessels with ice before the blood splattered about everywhere like it had with Xehanort and Braig. Despite how the body kept rocking (Xemnas would be damned if he did not find release), the cold scientist managed to remove the organ and placed it into the metal pan at his side. If one watched carefully, they could see the last figments of light - the mana encased in the human heart - flutter up and away from the object now destined for a modern Coptic jar. It was then and only then with Ienzo's clinical death that the Superior gave himself over to the little death with a delightful shudder.

Before the corpse could even set or cool, Xemnas slid his fingers over the sweat-laden skin and into the gasping hole left in the chest. He let his hand settle in the pool of blood, and then lifted the fading red fluid up high, "To a life given to darkness, for a new life of nothingness."

As the liquid ran down his arm, it shifted to a deep, forbidding shade of black. As it fell back inside the open cavity, it tainted the remaining liters the same melancholic color as it pounded through the stagnant, limp veins. Even the pale, white skin became laced with the spider web of shadowy capillaries. With black bile bubbling in every artery, they were just about ready to complete the ritual.

With long, tan fingers, the Superior drew out the shape of something that could resemble the removed organ. Set in the vacated hole, it grew to overtake and devour the abandoned arteries and start the sludge moving at a languid pace. So slow and tepid was the sluggish crawl that not even a pulse was generated.

The organ now replaced, the other members forced the gaping chest closed with the creaking and scraping sound of abused bones. Vexen set the sternum back into place and began the slow process of sewing up the scar, the thread seeming to whimper as it was lead back and forth through layers of skin again and again. Once completed, the Academic cut the end of the stitches using his teeth, the taste of blood-turned-bile sickly clinging to his tongue.

Normally, some words, some combination eulogy-christening, would be spoken to both honor the freshly dead and praise the newly born. But not for Ienzo for they all knew no one would be able to speak more eloquently of the young researcher than himself. As Xemnas pressed down rhythmically on the resewn chest with the stink of magic thick in the air, groans and curses passed over chapped and bitten lips with all the coherency attributed to zombies. The reborn coughed up a thick lump of blackened blood and barely noticed the nibbles currently being left along his neck.

"What do you feel, Zexion?" The Superior inquired in a low, almost sensual voice.

Somewhere, he realized that there should be pain. There should be pain and death and suffering - all things born of human weakness suffocating and imprisoning him. His answer encompassed all that currently was within his being.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."