Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction ❯ Sanctuary ❯ Please Don't Hate Me ( Chapter 14 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Sorry so long, both the update and the fic...sigh...um, this time I think they've made some actuall progress, next time Marron's past!
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.13.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 191 | Status: Completed
Sorry so long, both the update and the fic...sigh...um, this time I think they've made some actuall progress, next time Marron's past!
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.13.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 191 | Status: Completed
Nope, no notes. I simply throw myself on the mercy of the court.
Sanctuary
Chapter Fourteen: Please Don't Hate Me
"Marron?" Gateau released his hands to lean close. Marron pulled backwards, back hitting the soft arm of the leather couch and leaving him half lying upon it. Gateau moved quickly to press against him, one hand again on his hip, the other making slow motions through his loose hair. "Please," Gateau asked, voice not all strength, "please be okay with this Marron."
Somewhere inside Gateau was hating himself at the moment. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but all the pressure, all the waiting, the restraint, had suddenly folded in on itself and left him wanting more than he had in years. The plan, made barely four hours before, had been to welcome Marron home in high fashion, share with him the news, and let him take it from there. But having Marron there, and knowing it was okay, had pushed Gateau past the edge he had walked on for so long.
He felt Marron tremble in his grasp. Hesitantly he leveled his eyes with gold ones and any candle-lit fantasies that had danced in his head were put out instantly by the fear he saw there.
"Sorry," he half laughed to cover the tears that wanted to come. Unable to stare a moment longer he buried his head at Marron's neck and held tightly onto the other. He was surprised as slender arms wrapped around him. "You're still so beautiful..."
~***~
"I can't do this anymore." Marron laid down the book he had been reading. Sitting cross-legged on Gateau's bed, he looked at the blond.
"I gave up hours ago." He pulled a magazine from between the pages of his own book and received an exasperated look from the other. Standing, Gateau wandered over to the bed and stood looking down at him.
Marron raised an eyebrow.
"You're beautiful."
"You always say that."
Gateau took a seat beside him. Brushing aside the curtain of dark hair, he leant close to whisper in Marron's ear.
"Every time I look at you, I want you in my arms. I want to kiss you and hold you and make love to you forever." The words had been thought of beforehand, and if Marron had been paying too much attention, he might have noticed this, but with Gateau's hand climbing higher up his thigh, it really did not seem important. "Won't you let me, Marron?"
He pressed the younger man back onto the bed, shifting his own weight to the side so that they could lay close. His hand slipped under Marron’s sweater, leaning over at the same time to kiss his lips gently. Marron looked at him with contentment until his eyes closed with pleasure.
Gateau really could have staid there forever.
~*~
Gateau had left him without a word. Marron sat still in the living room, watching the candles burn themselves to nothing. An hour passed, perhaps more, before he stood suddenly and blew them out. Soft wisps of smoke filled the room, and Marron left it.
He sat on the side of Gateau's bed and reached to turn on the lamp. It threw a yellow circle into the room. Gateau lay facing away from him, one arm above the cover and the other folded beneath his head. They staid like that for a while, Marron thinking and Gateau counting the seconds of silence.
Suddenly Marron turned and pressed his forehead against Gateau's shoulder. He shuddered against Gateau, hands fisting in the sheets that wrapped around him. Gateau lay still, and finally, Marron went away.
~*~
Gateau stepped out of the shower and looked at him. He had heard Marron come in, heard him sit down, and heard him wait. The fact that he was there did not surprise Gateau, but what happened next most certainly did. Slipping off the toilet lid and onto the floor, Marron placed one hand on Gateau's wet hip. The other went to the other man's penis, grasping it loosely and beginning to work back and forth.
The rest was a blur to Gateau. There was motion, and then there was the sweet heat of Marron's mouth gliding over his organ, his hand making up for what his mouth couldn't take in. At first he had been still, but somewhere along Gateau had started to move, holding Marron's dark hair and thrusting his hips forward. Both the boy's hands ended up on his thighs, pressing back a little, but holding on a little too. The end was all gone to him; he remembered saying something, pushing Marron back, and then the light cleared and he watched as the younger man cleaned his face with a piece of tissue.
Marron shifted on the floor and sat back against the wall. He stared intently at the bath mat as Gateau moved around and got dressed.
"Breakfast?" Gateau asked.
"No...thank you."
~*~
They weren't speaking again. Gateau was angry with Marron for doing that without wanting to, and he was angry with himself for letting it happen. He didn't quite acknowledge the latter reason. So Marron hid away in his room, and Gateau went to the gym, and it went slowly along that way and left them both on edge.
Marshall debated locking them in the basement and forcing them to work it out. But he rather liked having a job.
~*~
Tira leaned across the counter and watched the rain falling against the glass doors. The store was empty save for one older gentleman at a corner table. Marron was stocking one of the shelves, pausing often to leaf through one book or another.
The bells rang. Tira looked up to see Milphey wander in. Marron looked up as well. He was quite used to seeing the man, now, sometimes fresh from a business meeting, and other times, well, less formal. Today he appeared in a bronze-colored suit and a dark red tie, all very flashy.
"Hello!" he called as he entered. "I've brought you something." With that he sat on the counter an entire case of Windex. "Just for you Marron dear."
Marron had been asking him earlier for something to clean the big windows with. It bothered him that there were fingerprints on them. Perhaps he had asked once too often.
"Thank you," he said, ducking his head and picking up the box.
Milphey staid to chat with Tira as Marron headed off to the backroom. Somehow, despite the counter between them, Milphey managed to get a hand down Tira's shirt. She gasped, but shooed him away good naturedly.
"Pest," she said.
"Nothing wrong with taking opportunities where you can get them!" He giggled.
"Why don't you go bother Marron?"
~*~
"You didn't have to hit me!" Milphey cried. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he pressed it to the side of his mouth. "Now it'll be all swollen," he lamented.
"I'm so sorry," Tira apologized even though she hadn't done it. She handed over the icepack from the first aid kit before hurrying to the back room to check on Marron. The room was small and dark, having in it little more than some boxes and a few shelves. Marron sat on the floor, head bent over his knees, and hands fisted in his hair. He was shaking a little. "Marron. . . "
He made no reply and she went to him. He jumped at her light touch.
"Don't," he whispered, drawing further into the corner. "Leave me alone." Not knowing what else to do, she left him.
Milphey was sitting on the couch with the icepack on his cheek when Marron came out of the back room. The purple haired man glared at him half-heartedly.
"You could have just said no," he pouted.
"Sorry," he said as he passed, eyes intently upon the carpet. His voice was shaky. "I...I have to go..."
"Okay," Tira replied. She watched the doors after they closed behind him.
~*~
Marron flicked the ashes from his cigarette and huddled further into his coat. He was shielded from the rain by the porch roof, but it still fell heavily all around him. His back pressed against the house, he watched it and wondered if his hands were steady enough now to unlock the door. He wasn't sure.
Suddenly Gateau's Porsche skidded into the drive. The large man jumped out and, with no regard for the rain, rushed up to him.
"Marron?" He dropped to one knee beside the dark haired man, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was stared at rather blankly. "Come inside."
Marron declined with a shake of his head. Gateau sighed. Stripping off his wet suit jacket, he sat down beside him.
"Tira called me, said you left. Said you were kind of out of it. Also said you hit somebody."
Marron nodded, "My boss."
Gateau couldn't help but laugh a little. It sounded too much like how his jobs had ended in the past. "Want to tell me why?"
"He scared me."
"What? What did he do? I'll"
"He just. . . it was nothing."
"It had to be something if you hit him."
"I just. . . ," Marron swallowed heavily, "overreacted."
Gateau stared at him intently, making him wish he hadn't said anything. Now he was obligated to continue.
"Sometimes...sometimes I have," he tilted his head back to rest against the house, "flashbacks."
The flashbacks had started not long after he found out that he was sick. They didn't happen very often, but they really messed with him when they did. He dropped the finished cigarette to the ground. The rain put it out.
"Of what?" Gateau asked again.
"Him." Marron closed his eyes tightly. He leaned toward Gateau and was taken into strong arms. "Please don't hate me."
~*~
Tira sat in the waiting room, nervously tapping her nails on the wooden arm of the chair. The nurse called her back and handed her a small plastic cup. The results should only take a few minutes.
~*~
Whether the rain or the stress, Marron fell sick again. He missed several days of work, and Milphey even called to tell him it was okay and that he hoped he got better. Gateau brought him soup and sprite, even if he didn't eat it. Most of all, he kept Marron in bed. The boy had a surprising tendency to wander about in the cold.
When his recovery seemed imminent, Gateau trusted him by himself long enough to run an errand. Marron was quite thankful for the moments alone. However, bad timing found him out on the front porch smoking when Gateau returned.
"You know," Gateau said, "those things will kill you."
Marron just stared at him, then he smiled a little.
"I know."
"Want to talk to me a little?"
Now he was suspicious, "About what?"
"Just some stuff."
~*~
'Some stuff' turned out to be exactly what Marron thought it might. Gateau had made them an appointment at the local health clinic. The lady there, now a contact of Gateau's, promised she could be helpful on a variety of matters. Of course there had been the argument.
"What do you want from me?!" Marron had ended up trying to yell at him, only to start coughing near the end.
"I just want you to try, that's all!" Gateau yelled too, but he patted the boy on the back as he did so. It was the little things that finally won him over.
So now they were in the car and Marron looked as if he was on death row. His face was rather pale, his lips pressed tight. Gateau pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Taking Marron's hand in his own, he gave it an encouraging squeeze before they left the car.
~tbc~
La la la...I'm not gonna get into grad school and I'm gonna live in a box . . . la la la
Sanctuary
Chapter Fourteen: Please Don't Hate Me
"Marron?" Gateau released his hands to lean close. Marron pulled backwards, back hitting the soft arm of the leather couch and leaving him half lying upon it. Gateau moved quickly to press against him, one hand again on his hip, the other making slow motions through his loose hair. "Please," Gateau asked, voice not all strength, "please be okay with this Marron."
Somewhere inside Gateau was hating himself at the moment. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but all the pressure, all the waiting, the restraint, had suddenly folded in on itself and left him wanting more than he had in years. The plan, made barely four hours before, had been to welcome Marron home in high fashion, share with him the news, and let him take it from there. But having Marron there, and knowing it was okay, had pushed Gateau past the edge he had walked on for so long.
He felt Marron tremble in his grasp. Hesitantly he leveled his eyes with gold ones and any candle-lit fantasies that had danced in his head were put out instantly by the fear he saw there.
"Sorry," he half laughed to cover the tears that wanted to come. Unable to stare a moment longer he buried his head at Marron's neck and held tightly onto the other. He was surprised as slender arms wrapped around him. "You're still so beautiful..."
~***~
"I can't do this anymore." Marron laid down the book he had been reading. Sitting cross-legged on Gateau's bed, he looked at the blond.
"I gave up hours ago." He pulled a magazine from between the pages of his own book and received an exasperated look from the other. Standing, Gateau wandered over to the bed and stood looking down at him.
Marron raised an eyebrow.
"You're beautiful."
"You always say that."
Gateau took a seat beside him. Brushing aside the curtain of dark hair, he leant close to whisper in Marron's ear.
"Every time I look at you, I want you in my arms. I want to kiss you and hold you and make love to you forever." The words had been thought of beforehand, and if Marron had been paying too much attention, he might have noticed this, but with Gateau's hand climbing higher up his thigh, it really did not seem important. "Won't you let me, Marron?"
He pressed the younger man back onto the bed, shifting his own weight to the side so that they could lay close. His hand slipped under Marron’s sweater, leaning over at the same time to kiss his lips gently. Marron looked at him with contentment until his eyes closed with pleasure.
Gateau really could have staid there forever.
~*~
Gateau had left him without a word. Marron sat still in the living room, watching the candles burn themselves to nothing. An hour passed, perhaps more, before he stood suddenly and blew them out. Soft wisps of smoke filled the room, and Marron left it.
He sat on the side of Gateau's bed and reached to turn on the lamp. It threw a yellow circle into the room. Gateau lay facing away from him, one arm above the cover and the other folded beneath his head. They staid like that for a while, Marron thinking and Gateau counting the seconds of silence.
Suddenly Marron turned and pressed his forehead against Gateau's shoulder. He shuddered against Gateau, hands fisting in the sheets that wrapped around him. Gateau lay still, and finally, Marron went away.
~*~
Gateau stepped out of the shower and looked at him. He had heard Marron come in, heard him sit down, and heard him wait. The fact that he was there did not surprise Gateau, but what happened next most certainly did. Slipping off the toilet lid and onto the floor, Marron placed one hand on Gateau's wet hip. The other went to the other man's penis, grasping it loosely and beginning to work back and forth.
The rest was a blur to Gateau. There was motion, and then there was the sweet heat of Marron's mouth gliding over his organ, his hand making up for what his mouth couldn't take in. At first he had been still, but somewhere along Gateau had started to move, holding Marron's dark hair and thrusting his hips forward. Both the boy's hands ended up on his thighs, pressing back a little, but holding on a little too. The end was all gone to him; he remembered saying something, pushing Marron back, and then the light cleared and he watched as the younger man cleaned his face with a piece of tissue.
Marron shifted on the floor and sat back against the wall. He stared intently at the bath mat as Gateau moved around and got dressed.
"Breakfast?" Gateau asked.
"No...thank you."
~*~
They weren't speaking again. Gateau was angry with Marron for doing that without wanting to, and he was angry with himself for letting it happen. He didn't quite acknowledge the latter reason. So Marron hid away in his room, and Gateau went to the gym, and it went slowly along that way and left them both on edge.
Marshall debated locking them in the basement and forcing them to work it out. But he rather liked having a job.
~*~
Tira leaned across the counter and watched the rain falling against the glass doors. The store was empty save for one older gentleman at a corner table. Marron was stocking one of the shelves, pausing often to leaf through one book or another.
The bells rang. Tira looked up to see Milphey wander in. Marron looked up as well. He was quite used to seeing the man, now, sometimes fresh from a business meeting, and other times, well, less formal. Today he appeared in a bronze-colored suit and a dark red tie, all very flashy.
"Hello!" he called as he entered. "I've brought you something." With that he sat on the counter an entire case of Windex. "Just for you Marron dear."
Marron had been asking him earlier for something to clean the big windows with. It bothered him that there were fingerprints on them. Perhaps he had asked once too often.
"Thank you," he said, ducking his head and picking up the box.
Milphey staid to chat with Tira as Marron headed off to the backroom. Somehow, despite the counter between them, Milphey managed to get a hand down Tira's shirt. She gasped, but shooed him away good naturedly.
"Pest," she said.
"Nothing wrong with taking opportunities where you can get them!" He giggled.
"Why don't you go bother Marron?"
~*~
"You didn't have to hit me!" Milphey cried. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he pressed it to the side of his mouth. "Now it'll be all swollen," he lamented.
"I'm so sorry," Tira apologized even though she hadn't done it. She handed over the icepack from the first aid kit before hurrying to the back room to check on Marron. The room was small and dark, having in it little more than some boxes and a few shelves. Marron sat on the floor, head bent over his knees, and hands fisted in his hair. He was shaking a little. "Marron. . . "
He made no reply and she went to him. He jumped at her light touch.
"Don't," he whispered, drawing further into the corner. "Leave me alone." Not knowing what else to do, she left him.
Milphey was sitting on the couch with the icepack on his cheek when Marron came out of the back room. The purple haired man glared at him half-heartedly.
"You could have just said no," he pouted.
"Sorry," he said as he passed, eyes intently upon the carpet. His voice was shaky. "I...I have to go..."
"Okay," Tira replied. She watched the doors after they closed behind him.
~*~
Marron flicked the ashes from his cigarette and huddled further into his coat. He was shielded from the rain by the porch roof, but it still fell heavily all around him. His back pressed against the house, he watched it and wondered if his hands were steady enough now to unlock the door. He wasn't sure.
Suddenly Gateau's Porsche skidded into the drive. The large man jumped out and, with no regard for the rain, rushed up to him.
"Marron?" He dropped to one knee beside the dark haired man, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was stared at rather blankly. "Come inside."
Marron declined with a shake of his head. Gateau sighed. Stripping off his wet suit jacket, he sat down beside him.
"Tira called me, said you left. Said you were kind of out of it. Also said you hit somebody."
Marron nodded, "My boss."
Gateau couldn't help but laugh a little. It sounded too much like how his jobs had ended in the past. "Want to tell me why?"
"He scared me."
"What? What did he do? I'll"
"He just. . . it was nothing."
"It had to be something if you hit him."
"I just. . . ," Marron swallowed heavily, "overreacted."
Gateau stared at him intently, making him wish he hadn't said anything. Now he was obligated to continue.
"Sometimes...sometimes I have," he tilted his head back to rest against the house, "flashbacks."
The flashbacks had started not long after he found out that he was sick. They didn't happen very often, but they really messed with him when they did. He dropped the finished cigarette to the ground. The rain put it out.
"Of what?" Gateau asked again.
"Him." Marron closed his eyes tightly. He leaned toward Gateau and was taken into strong arms. "Please don't hate me."
~*~
Tira sat in the waiting room, nervously tapping her nails on the wooden arm of the chair. The nurse called her back and handed her a small plastic cup. The results should only take a few minutes.
~*~
Whether the rain or the stress, Marron fell sick again. He missed several days of work, and Milphey even called to tell him it was okay and that he hoped he got better. Gateau brought him soup and sprite, even if he didn't eat it. Most of all, he kept Marron in bed. The boy had a surprising tendency to wander about in the cold.
When his recovery seemed imminent, Gateau trusted him by himself long enough to run an errand. Marron was quite thankful for the moments alone. However, bad timing found him out on the front porch smoking when Gateau returned.
"You know," Gateau said, "those things will kill you."
Marron just stared at him, then he smiled a little.
"I know."
"Want to talk to me a little?"
Now he was suspicious, "About what?"
"Just some stuff."
~*~
'Some stuff' turned out to be exactly what Marron thought it might. Gateau had made them an appointment at the local health clinic. The lady there, now a contact of Gateau's, promised she could be helpful on a variety of matters. Of course there had been the argument.
"What do you want from me?!" Marron had ended up trying to yell at him, only to start coughing near the end.
"I just want you to try, that's all!" Gateau yelled too, but he patted the boy on the back as he did so. It was the little things that finally won him over.
So now they were in the car and Marron looked as if he was on death row. His face was rather pale, his lips pressed tight. Gateau pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Taking Marron's hand in his own, he gave it an encouraging squeeze before they left the car.
~tbc~
La la la...I'm not gonna get into grad school and I'm gonna live in a box . . . la la la