Saint Seiya Fan Fiction ❯ Sweet Alabaster (Kanon x Saga - Saint Seiya) ❯ Sweet Alabaster ( One-Shot )

FIC Sweet Alabaster
Author : Sagakure

Fandom Saint Seiya (Knights of the Zodiac, Cavaleiros do Zodiaco, Caballeros del Zodiaco, Chevaliers du Zodiaque, ¹“¬Žm¯–î).

Pairing : Saga x Kanon (or rather, Kanon x Saga)

Rating : R (they don’t do much more than kissing and feeling each other up a lot…in an exciting manner. At least, I hope it’s exciting, it seemed that way when I wrote it. *lol*)

Warnings : Twincest…^^

Nota : The fic is “told” from Kanon’s viewpoint. Also, sorry that my English isn’t the best, it isn’t my first language.


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A few clouds float in a sky that is so incredibly blue that it seems fake, today.

The heat seems to make everything, men and animals, lazy, to the point where all activity outside is reduced to a minimum.
The only exception to that rule are the cicadas, who seem to feel the need to be louder, the hotter the weather is.
As an accessory, yet interesting effect, the heat also makes people feel like wearing lighter clothes, short sleeveless tunics, open sandals, light training pants, nothing too heavy or too hot.
It's really not a day to wear your Cloth.

It's summer, and things couldn't be calmer in Sanctuary.

Athena is back and so are the bronze saints, that she brought back from a certain death, just like she did to us.
While none of us expected to be given a second chance to live, we were all quick to grasp it and to try to put order in our lives. After all, we are Saints of Athena, and more than anyone, we Gold Saints need to be ready to defend her in the next battle.
But without enemies to challenge our goddess for the control of this world, we all found ourselves in a much deserved yet never expected stretch of peace.

Even though we aren't sure what we should do of our newly acquired freedom, our instincts tell us to enjoy it to its fullest. We might have no enemy to fight now, but sooner or later, war is bound to start again. A new Holy War could put an end to this peace anytime.
More than anyone else, we know how frail peace can be, and how quickly it could disappear.
So we know, better than anyone, how important it is to enjoy those moments of happiness.
Carpe Diem.
Carpe Horas.


And today is one of those afternoons.

I can always tell when he is in one of those moods.

Saga, my twin. My other half.

So beautiful, yet so tortured. After so many years locking himself mind and body away from anyone, always covered by layers and layers of oversized garments, floating robes and dark masks, it is not surprising that he should be so ignorant of his own body.

So all that he does is to look at me with those troubled eyes, then drop his gaze to the ground, or quickly look away and attempt to regain his composure, hoping that I won't notice what just crossed his mind.

But I always do. Are we not one single mind, after all?

So as he frantically struggles to seem fascinated by a detail in the walls of the Gemini temple, or deeply concentrated on something outside, I approach him in the manner a hunter stalks his prey. That’s how it always starts.

I run my fingers through his hair and lightly rest my other hand on his hip.
I find it tantalizing to look at his face in those moments. The light blush starting to spread on his cheeks, the little pearls of sweat forming on his forehead... He knows that I'm about to touch him, and not knowing what I will do exactly makes what is left of his sang-froid crumble.
I wish I could prolongate this moment even further, but when I see the slight quivering of his lips in anticipation, I understand it is time to start.

Our eyes meet, for a fleeting instant, and his glance is full of lust, and some kind of shame mixed with expectation. Shame of being so obvious to me, so naked at my eyes, that I could guess his every need.

That glance is usually enough for me to tell that I have his permission, that he is entrusting himself to me once again.

It started only days ago, and at first I couldn't believe I wasn't dreaming.
We have had those intimate moments several times since then. At first, awkward and gentle, like we needed to take contact with each other again first, after so many years apart. Then more boldly, in a crescendo of pleasure as we discovered each other's body in a way we couldn’t even dream of in our adolescent years.
But we haven't done more than kissing or playing around in a rather innocent manner, so far.
Every time, we get a little bit closer, and I never cease to hope that next time, I'll break through his last defenses and he'll surrender himself to me completely.

I stand behind him and part his hair, to allow me access to the back of his neck, which I lick, slowly and provoking, tasting the sweet saltiness of his skin.
The sharp intake of breath that I hear confirms what I already knew, how sensitive that spot is on him.
My lips soon follow my tongue, closing over his skin, drinking the few tiny drops of sweat that formed underneath his hair. I begin sucking on his nape, in hopes that I can make him fully mine by leaving my mark on his body, while my hands start travelling up from his hips to his chest.

He doesn't say a word, as always, too shy or too unprepared to speak of those things, but he takes hold of my hand and leads me to the back of the temple, to our private apartments, and into the large divan, one of the sparse pieces of furniture that we have installed in this more informal part of the Gemini house.

As we reach the divan, my hands are already all over his body, and his breathing is uneven, all imperturbability now long forgotten.

I tumble over him, strategically placing myself between his thighs, but he draws his legs partially up, preventing me from a more direct contact to his crotch.

Understanding that I am going too fast, I run my fingers in his hair for a gentle caress, then hold the back of his head, and guide him towards me to get his lips to meet mine.
When his tongue tentatively tastes my lips, I find myself wondering how my innocent and shy Saga managed to open up to me so much.

The first time we did that, he interrupted me, his eyes full of confusion, and he told me that he had came to the conclusion that he didn't deserve such bliss, after all that he had done in the past!

It took me days to bring him to concede that even if he couldn't forgive himself, he could at least forget about his guilt for a few moments, as long as the peace would last.
I shamelessly used any argument I could muster - and I have quite some skill at that, after all those years "serving" Poseidon- to try to convince him.
In the end, he reluctantly agreed with my claims that for the safety of the goddess, it is important that her warriors are perfectly rested and ready for battle, and that this kind of passtime is highly effective to ensure that one is relaxed and rested...

But he only yielded to my arguments on the surface, for I feel that he is still holding back, unable to allow himself to feel all the way a pleasure that he believes to be forbidden for him.


The warmth of his lips against mine brings me back to the present.
I too, would love to be able to forget the past, at least for a few moments. We have the rest of our lives to regret or despair in self-hatred. One more reason to treasure those short moments of happiness.
I part my lips allowing his tongue to tentatively explore, discover and experiment. Shortly afterwards, it's my turn to take over his mouth. He tastes sweet, indescribably good, like I always had imagined he would taste, and yet so completely different from what I had imagined a gold saint as powerful would taste. Strange, what imagination does.

Our kisses deepen, our lips locked together and getting more demanding as the pressure increases, while my left hand runs up his back to better pull our bodies together, mine pinning his to the divan.
My mouth swallows the muffled cry of surprise that he lets out as the fingers of my other hand run up his inner thigh, feeling the thin fabric of his training pants.

His eyes are wide open, and I can feel his body shivering under mine, as my hand strokes his hip, then unbuckles the belt that holds his short tunic tightly around his waist.

Taking advantage of the obvious struggle that he is going through trying to decide how to react, I lift said tunic, uncovering a perfect torso, lightly muscled, yet clearly powerful.

Skin as white as alabaster, beckoning me to try it, taste it, and make him go insane from too much pleasure.

But before I can give in to that enticement, his eyes hesitatingly meet mine, and through a veil of embarrassment, I see complete trust. In those moments, when he allows me to touch him that way, Saga gives himself to me so completely, that I could never bear to break that trust. We already lost each other once, and neither of us could stand to suffer it again.
So I regain my self-control, instead of giving in and ravishing him on the spot.

I settle for exploring every inch of his chest with my fingers, then my tongue, and I feel him relax, understanding that I'll do things at his pace. The short moment of panic he seems to have gone trough just an instant ago fades away, and he straightens his legs, allowing my body to draw closer in contact with his, while he wraps his arms about my neck, fingers entwined in my hair.

The previous times we experimented with all these new sensations have led me to discover a certain amount of things that I can use to throw Saga overboard, and the moist warmth of my tongue sliding on his skin is definitely one of them.

Today is not different, and when I let the tip of my tongue brush lightly against a pink rosebud erect in the middle of that ocean of paleness, it is more than he can take, and his head jerks backwards, while a loud moan escapes his lips.
Pleased by this reaction, I push my exploration further, sucking on that tiny protuberance that quickly hardens under my touch. My fingers play with the second one, that I rub and squeeze carefully, pinching it lightly by moments, drawing one after the other several little moans from my usually silent twin.
All that sweet torture has made his face completely flushed, and covered with little beads of sweat. I lift my head from his chest for a moment and chuckle, seeing him struggling to prevent his body from writhing under my touch, all control over his voice lost, as I can tell from the melody of his moans and gasps.
Little tears have formed in the corners of his eyes, and he is attempting to use that short break to bring his breathing somewhat under control.

My Saga. Yes, mine, after all.
So powerful yet so frail.
How can a man whose cosmos is so deadly to his foes, be so innocent and vulnerable?
He believes himself to be anything but pure or innocent, yet on this kind of matter, that's exactly what he is.

We haven't yet really talked about all those years he spent impersonating Shion, or about what I have done myself during all that time.
There are subjects we are afraid to mention, like a shadow over our peace, an ever-present Damocles sword over our heads.

We don't fear to go back to whom we were then, we know it is no longer possible. But we fear to awake the regrets, the distress and the misery that we both felt for so many years.
They haunt us often enough, they don't need to pursue us all the way into out intimate moments. So we go on avoiding those subjects as much as possible.

Saga has experimented so many forms of suffering, yet I'm sure he has never allowed himself to feel much pleasure. Otherwise, his body wouldn't react with such surprise and lack of control to the simplest of my caresses, the lightest of my touches.
Be it because he had no one to share his intimacy during those 13 years spent hiding his face and body, or because denying himself that way was one more way to punish himself, the fact is Saga is as ignorant of the sensations and matters of the body as he was in our youth.


His eyes are tightly shut, and his teeth seem clenched, in a vain attempt to regain control of his body.
A louder moan escapes his lips as my hip presses against his erection, that is clearly visible by the bulge in his pants. It must be painful by now. So is mine, that I find myself grinding against his leg, hoping for release.
He gives me a confused look as I stroke his crotch through the fabric. In the state of excitement I am, I don't trust myself to tell if it's a hint of fear of the unknown or an invitation, that I read in his half-lidded eyes. But when my fingers feel a little wet circle, the dampness of the precum soaking through his pants, I almost lose my mind.
I pin him further down against the cushions, and in one quick gesture, I slide my hand into his pants, seeking the source of so much heat.
But before I can get a good grasp on anything, I feel his strong grip on my wrist, stopping me. Gentle, but firm.

I went too fast...

I raise my head to meet his eyes again, but this time I read pain in them, and a bottomless sadness. Regret? No. Not quite. It is the look he has whenever he is ashamed of himself. A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he tells me in a sad, subdued voice :"It isn't...right..." – before looking down.
But I know he isn't talking about me, or what we were doing.


Sometimes, I think he'll never stop hating himself and denying himself any form of happiness.
Can we ever be forgiven?
Is it even possible?
As much as Athena and the other saints have accepted me, I know I'm still as guilty myself. So I understand very well why Saga can't stop suffering.

I only hope we are not completely unforgivable.
Not for myself so much, but because I would do anything to see once again the joy and the pride in Saga's eyes, just like he was when he had just became the Gemini Saint.
At that moment, he was so beautiful, so peaceful and...alive. I remember having thought that I didn't care if I had to remain his shadow forever, as long as he would stay that way.
In the end, we were both denied, but maybe this second chance that the young goddess gave us is the occasion to start over, as if we had been cleansed of our sins.
A chance to find peace, inside our hearts. Finally.
More than anything, I hope that this hypothesis proves to be true.


He is still breathing hard, his body shivering beneath mine, his lips slightly parted, - now a stronger shade of pink than usually, bruised that they are by the wildness of our kisses. His hand is still on my wrist, and his eyes seems to plead me not to continue.
But in his condition, I know I wouldn't have to do much to have it any way I would like.
I am perfectly aware that if I wanted to push things a bit further, his body would betray him, and fall prey to my caresses.

But this would be nothing more than betrayal, and he might never forgive me… I know I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did this to him.
So I have no other choice but wait until he is ready to give himself over to me by his own decision.

I remove my hand and gently kiss the tear from his face. He gives me a grateful shy glance, albeit still full of that sadness that clings so strongly to him...

I sit up straight and look away to give him the privacy he might need to regain his composure.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him readjusting his disarranged clothing, his face still partially flushed and his breathing not quite even yet.

I might have failed again today, but I sense that next time won't be a failure...





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< br> Sagakure, March 11th, 2005



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