Warning for Necrophilia. TykiAllen. This is the body and this is the blood, but nothing is left. Spoilers for around chapter 118. AU as of chapter 123.
Allen visited the body only once before handing it over to the scientific teams who salivated like wolves before a carcass. He had tried to convince himself that the spirit he had known with the fierce eyes and defiant spirit was gone, but still this husk remained.
He stood in the sterile room alone but for the humming of the air vents that sucked away any scent of death. Now, Allen seemed small and childlike, completely unlike the warrior he had been in that battle. Tyki had chosen to help him, in the end, by giving him the ability to seek within himself to find this power. He had to convince himself that there had been some love as that sharp, calculating mind reckoned the gains greater than the costs as if his entire life had been a card game.
He had told no one but Lavi, the friend who was supposed to be impartial in this entire game of life. He had been hoping for some sort of wisdom, and received none. And so, he was here.
The darkness of Tyki's clothes and the blood dried on his face created a painful contrast to the world he was surrounded by. They had preserved him exactly as he had been when he fell from Allen's sword as a dead weight. Shoving that memory to the back of his mind, though he had long ago counted his gain worth the loss, Allen Walker stepped forward.
The body was so different without the life that had given it motion. No longer was there any worry of his hand passing through an arm or a stomach if Tyki was feeling peevish. The lean muscle revealed as he reverently removed the dark clothing tempted his tongue with the color of mocha, even though he knew it would taste of flesh and sweat. The smallest of smiles hovered around Tyki's eyes and mouth and Allen could only remember the rough touch that had drifted into fond caress as the light in those eyes died. No mocking voice whispered to break the religious silence by calling him "boy" or made him blush with dirty words.
Those lips did not respond when he kissed them, no matter how often he tried. Tears dripped down to mar the serenity of departed and Allen pretended that they were his so that he could leave them there without guilt. Shaking, a mournful moan pressed out his body and echoed in the chamber as he dropped his jacket on the floor and climbed onto the stainless steel table. They did not bother with comfort for the dead, here. He rubbed his aching flesh against the only person who had ever understood him, even when he had not understood himself. Sobbing quietly, he pressed his cheek against a silent, unmoving chest, and let his tears drip into the wound he had created.
He would ask himself why for the rest of his life and never know the answer.
As he jerked more and more frantically against the the body's thigh he couldn't help but remember how Tyki used to stroke him, teasing and touching him inside his very body. He remembered that laugh and that oxymoronic gentle roughness that had brought him to orgasm so many times before. He remembered the slide of the tongue and the patient touches that taught him how to feel. Making love and having sex with Tyki Mikk had taught Allen that nothing was ever black or white.
And now he thrust hopelessly against his body, sweating in the cool air and crying out with the horror of it all as he came and came and came. No curling kisses to ease the way, no soothing hands or gentle murmurs of encouragement. Just silence.
He was in this room alone.
He cleaned himself and the body off, re-dressing it with shaking hands and glazed eyes. The scientific research was just an excuse to bring this dead body into the home, but no one would ever know why.