Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ The Shadow Aspect ❯ The Day After ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Disclaimer: Neon Genesis Evangelion and all related characters and material thereof belong to GAINAX, not to me. I make no claim to Shinji, Asuka, Rei, or any of the rest. This fanfic is meant in no way to infringe on the copyrights, trademarks, and assorted legalities of GAINAX. This fanfic is just having good clean (well, not clean clean) fun with Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Warning: This is a lemon! For those of you who don't know, that means this stories is rated NC-17 and features SEX SEX SEX between imaginary characters. If you're under 18 and reading this, stop. You Have Been Warned.
Story Codes: This lemon is going to feature a LOT of sex. Some of it will be sweethearted. Some of it will be anything but. Just so you know, there will be incidents of rape (by and to both genders) in this fanfic. If you have a problem with that then you should stop reading here.
Did you read all that? Good. Now we can get on with the story...
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THE SHADOW ASPECT
By: Jessup
PART 01: The Day After
Misato knocks on the door to Shinji's Lovely Suite, or, as it was called before Asuka kicked him out of his old bedroom, the storage closet. "I'm going into work, okay?"
Shinji, sprawled across his bed, pulls out one earbud and looks up at her. Had she been paying closer attention Misato might have noticed the lack of music coming from it. "When will you be back?"
The woman sighs, "Tomorrow night if I'm lucky. Paperwork's a bitch after an Angel attack, especially when hundreds of N2 bombs are involved."
"Oh."
"Anyway, don't wait up for me. I left some money on the kitchen table for you two to order some delivery." She gives him a little wave, but pauses as she leans away from the doorway. Ducking her head back in, she asks, "Are you really okay?"
The Third Child, lying on his stomach, nods. It's a stiff gesture. "I'm fine, Misato."
It's enough to satisfy her. "G'night, Shinji."
SDAT silent, Shinji waits in his bedroom, listening as Misato fiddles around in the kitchen for a few minutes, looking for this and that. Finally he hears the jingle of her car keys and the whine of the front door's motors as it opens and then closes. Several minutes pass. The Major doesn't come back for some forgotten knickknack.
Shinji lets go of the breath he's been holding.
The sweat-soaked sheets cling to his exposed arms and legs as he crawls off the bed. His shoulders ache slightly from supporting his weight on propped up elbows for… he doesn't know how long anymore; a few hours at least. Without a window in his makeshift bedroom/closet the motions of the sun in the sky are lost to him. He hasn't looked at a clock all day. He hasn't wanted to. He's only left the room twice to use the bathroom and only then when he absolutely needed to.
Shinji walks out of the bedroom and looks around. The apartment is deserted. Pen-Pen is in his private fridge. Asuka's in her own bedroom.
Thank God, he thinks to himself.
Stomach grumbling, he heads into the kitchen. The money is on the table as Misato promised. When he reaches for the phone, however, the fact that he'll need to talk with her before he places the order for their food strikes him cold.
Shinji stares at the apartment's phone, his hand lingering on its plastic casing. His eyes are focused on something more distant, however. He recalls memories not a day old, of a shadow world, of impossible dreams that became reality. His penis stiffens under his mesh shorts and juts out painfully. He closes his eyes and sighs.
A floorboard creaks.
Shinji whips around—
—and she's standing there, decked out in that yellow sundress of hers, with that blue choker fastened around her neck. Her red hair, long and untamed, is without its usual A-10 clips.
Did she dress up for me?
But as his shock fades to calm, Shinji assess his fellow pilot more carefully. The expression on her face isn't one of longing or desire but of… puzzlement? Curiosity? Shame? He can't say. It's a complex sentiment, one that he can't decipher even knowing what he now knows about her.
He is suddenly very aware that his erection is on display for her. That awareness simply makes him harder. Shinji's only embarrassment is in the idea that flitters through his mind briefly, the idea of knocking Asuka down onto the ground and taking her hard until his balls run dry. He shoves that impulse back down.
"Was it true?" she asks with no emotion. "What I saw?"
He stares at her for nearly a full minute. She waits. Then he nods. "It was for me."
Asuka looks queasy. "Are… are you sure?"
"You have a mole," he says, staring back at her, "under your left breast, at seven o'clock to your nipple. It's pale brown, the color of barley, and it's barely bigger than the tip of a pencil. It's the only imperfection on your breasts. The rest is," he takes a sharp breath, "perfect."
Without comment, Asuka reaches up for the left strap of her yellow sundress and slides in down over her shoulder. The right strap soon follows. Asuka rolls the dress down, leaving her upper torso exposed. Equally without comment, she reaches around her back and undoes her bra clasp. It is only then, hands cupped over her bosom, that Asuka looks away from Shinji, turning her attention to a bare spot on the wall to her right. She lingers in the pose for an un-erotic moment, then her hands fall away, taking the plain white lacy bra with them.
Shinji looks on Asuka Langley Soryu's breast again, for the first time. They are full for a girl of her age, barely fourteen, barely a teenager. But neither he nor she are children anymore, despite NERV's moniker for them. They've seen too much, done too much, felt too much to be young anymore. Yet here Shinji is seemingly betrayed by his biological age. He gasps at the sight of the German girl's heavy breasts… but not at their firm, apple-sized shape or at the large pink nipples. No, his gasp is at the pale brown mole on her left breast, sitting at seven o'clock to the nipple. In the kitchen's discoloring yellow lighting it is barely distinguishable against her pale Caucasian complexion. But it's there. It's real.
Shinji steps forward, raising a curious hand. Asuka doesn't move, doesn't look at him, but she doesn't stop him.
His touch is cool, clinical. What little hesitancy it contains stems more from disbelief than fear or anticipation. His fingertips brush against the underside of Asuka's left breast. They both shiver at the recollection of memories the physical contact brings them.
Shinji traces his thumb back and forth over the mole, barely touching her. Then his thumb circles outward, up and around and down and around again on her left breast. On the third circuit it dashes upward and lingers over the two-inch, pink areola. The colored skin crinkles and, as Shinji watches, the nipple grows up and out.
"It happened," he whispers.
"No," Asuka objects softly, "N-not really. It was a t-trick. A trap."
Shinji cups her left breast in his palm. Asuka, her eyes glistening, finally turns her head and looks at the Japanese boy fondling her in the middle of their kitchen.
"It happened," says Shinji, his quiet voice practically a roar in the silent apartment. "And I know now…"
"What?" she asks; voice thick with emotion. Internally, she curses herself for liking his touch, for wanting his touch. She hates him a little for knowing that she likes it, wants it. She hates herself more for the tear that escapes a decade long captivity and runs down her cheek, for the tremble in her knees, and for the growing moisture where her thighs meet.
Shinji releases her breast. She sighs, though for exactly what reason she's not certain. His hand, however, does not return to his side. Instead it traces up, fingertips never breaking contact with her skin. Up up up, along her collar, along her neck (she shivers), to dance over her jaw, until it comes to a rest against her cheek. There he cups her face, filling his palm with her smoothness. Unconscious of the motion, Asuka leans into his hand, hungry for the warmth.
The Second and Third Child stare at one another, both making a memory of the moment for their own reasons, until, as so often happens for inexperienced lovers, the moment runs overlong and becomes awkward.
Asuka breaks eye contact first. "I s-saw you r-rape me," she stammers. "You treated me like I was meat. You treated all of us both like we were meat."
"…and I saw what you did to me, Asuka. And to Ay—"
She jerks away from him, knocking his hand down as she does so. "GOD! How fucking pathetic!"
He reaches out for her. "Asuka, I—"
She wheels around and slaps him across his face. "MOTHERFUCKER!!"
He cradles his reddening cheek. "I'm sor—"
"DON'T EVER SAY THAT! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT! AND EVEN IF YOU DID I'D STILL NEVER EVER FORGIVE YOU!" she screams, arms drawn across her breasts to shield them from his gaze. She turns away from him. "I can't believe I thought I wanted to touch y—'
The German girl is unprepared for when Shinji reaches out and grabs hold of her right upper arm. Before she can even register her shock he pulls her around to face him, runs his hands up to her shoulders, grabs hold again, and pushes her up against the nearest kitchen wall. Asuka lightly bangs her head. As she blinks away the haze of pain the foreign girl becomes aware of how close Shinji Ikari is holding her. She can smell him, his scent, and feel his body heat. He has one foot between her own and a naked knee pressed against her crotch, securing her in place. She hopes he can't feel the warmth in her pussy. There's only two thin layers of cotton separating their skin, just like with his cock, and she can most assuredly feel his bound erection pressing against her left thigh.
"I want to hold you," he says pointblank to her face. "It's wrong and selfish and… and… God. I need you, Asuka. I want you. You. I want to taste you again, to hear you scream. And I also want all the things that the shadow didn't let us give to each other." He leans in close, their noses almost touching. When he speaks again the desperation isn't quite so naked in his voice. "It's pathetic how… how much I want to touch you. But I can't stop. Maybe I don't want to stop. I do know I don't want to go back to being… being like this. And I know you feel the same way. I saw. I saw enough to know, Asuka."
She leans her head back against the wall, her breathing rapid and shallow.
"B-but I won't f-force you. Not again. Never again. It has to be your choice, Asuka." Hesitantly, he lets his grip on her slacken. She doesn't run away. "If you want me to… I'll h-hold you this time."
A minute passes.
Then two.
Then more.
"…you're pathetic," she says at last.
Shinji hangs his head, unable to look at her anymore. He closes his eyes and the tears starts running out in earnest. He can't stop himself, not even in front of her, not when he was so close to not being alone. It hurts worse now, he thinks, having had a taste of what not being alone is like.
"…but…"
A hand cups his cheek. He looks up. The hand doesn't let go.
"I'm pathetic too," she whispers, cheeks wet with tears. "Because I want to hold you too."
The redhead withdraws her hand from his cheek and places it against his chest. Her other hand joins it. It's the warmest, most wonderful thing he's ever felt. Shinji stares at her, disbelieving of events. If his mind hadn't stopped working he might wonder if she feels his heart stopping at her touch.
Asuka shoves Shinji away.
He stumbles, unprepared, and is jolted to a sharp stop when he back-peddles into the kitchen table. A jolt of pain shoots up his back. His eyes never leave Asuka's.
She stalks forward, breasts swinging free, and closes the distance between them. She grabs two handfuls of his plain blue t-shirt, leans over, and their mouths meet.
It's only the second time they've kissed. Or the millionth. It's hard to be certain of such things anymore after Friday, after Leliel…
…after their brush with the shadow aspect.
TO BE CONTINUED