Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction ❯ Sanctuary ❯ If I Tell You Why ( Chapter 15 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Fianally the backstory! Gateau finds out how it happened.
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.17.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 207 | Status: Work In Progress
Fianally the backstory! Gateau finds out how it happened.
Anime/Manga: Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.17.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 207 | Status: Work In Progress
a few notes to my most devoted reviews (i.e. Cody-san and Cierzo-san): First off, thank you both! And in response to questions/ requests that have come in various times. I'm working on a happy one-shot now (about a nude beach. actually). I would do a sequel to Lonesome Moon, but I seem to have lost it (is it still posted anywhere?). I'm gonna live in a box because my GRE is in 7 days and I'm writing fanfics instead of studying.
To Skylier: Thanks for taking the time to review. I am trying to keep updates regular.
To Caribbean Blue: I do apologize for offending sensibilities, but I just do that sometimes. Still appreciate you giving me a chance.
Thanks to you all for your patience. Your reviews mean alot to poor desperate authors like me.
Now, on with the show.
Sanctuary
Chapter Fifteen: If I Tell You Why
They passed through the sterile halls and into an office in the back. Gateau wanted to hold Marron's hand, but thought better of it. They sat in two simple chairs in front of a cheap desk and waited. Though he wanted to twist and move about, just to escape the tension that hung so prevalently in the air, Marron made a visible effort to sit still, back strait in the plastic chair.
Behind them the door opened, but neither turned to look. A short, round woman stepped in front of them, motioned them not to stand, then shook both their hands in turn. Settling herself at the desk, she lifted her glasses, previously dangling by a thin gold chain around her neck, and pushed them firmly onto her face.
“Mr. Mocha, how are you today?” Her voice was more pleasant than one would have expected, seeming like it was trying to make up for the cold, white lab coat by being warm.
“Uh, good, good.”
She nodded, glanced up at Marron, then went back to her opened folder. Silence continued for a few more moments as she read, and both parties wondered if it was just to make them feel uncomfortable. Finally she sat the folder down and looked directly at them, sparing no eye contact.
“Well, gentlemen. As you know, I’m Catherine, and I think I can be alot of help to you. But first, let’s get something strait, you’ve got to be honest with me, got it? No bullshit.”
Gateau felt a little like laughing, not sure if it was because she said ‘strait’ or because the idea of such a kind little woman giving them sexual advice was just, well, funny.
“First thing is, you know this is a high-risk relationship, and you two have to be sure it’s what you really want. From what Mr. Mocha here has told me, it is. But what about you--”
“Glace.”
“Mr. Glace. Is this what you want? Are you willing to put him at risk?” She stared intently over the desk. Marron’s hands tightened into fists on his lap, but his eyes met her.
~***~
The boarding school stood in a secluded little corner of the rustic English country, far away from any unpleasant vices that might draw its young students into trouble. Even if one did get a pass to go into town, the only things to see were the famous cobblestone streets and the row of glass front shops with various expensive items. There were a couple cafes, an open air market on Saturdays, and a fountain where the regular young folk met. Reportedly there was a tavern, a pub, in the basement of one of the shops, but you had to be eighteen to get it, and none of the Autbridge boys were.
Marron didn’t mind it too much, the town anyway. Autbridge on the other hand...
In his fifth year, he was well acquainted with the rules of the school and rarely got a ruler across his hand or the like, but still the threat loomed. And the teachers hit /hard/. More than that, the solemn walls and antique paintings and all that gloomy atmosphere wore on the spirit of a young boy. Plus, to be quite honest, he sincerely missed his family, especially his brother.
Still, as his father was fond of reminding him, it was a /privilege/ to go to such a school. If not for a generous gift from a friend of his mother’s, a very specific gift, he would have probably still been at home languishing in the public education system. At least at Autbridge he managed to study literature and maths and language at a faster pace, skipping a grade in the process, and it certainly would give him a leg up when it came to college.
With all of this in his head, Marron hurried along one of the long, arched hallways. Dressed in the uniform common to all students, black pants and white shirt, a little pin that marked him as a sixth grader, he kept his books tucked tightly under his arm. Turning right, he found the door and then his seat.
As he laid out a notebook and pen, Mr. Dauns came up behind him. Not quite startled, Marron turned to look at him as a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.
~*~
“Yes.” Gateau heard the word, but looking at Marron’s face, he wasn’t sure the boy meant it. Was he just playing the part?
“Okay, then. Well, we’ll get to your current relationship in moment. First,” she pulled out a lined piece of yellow paper, “I’m gonna need a list of all your previous sexual partners so that we can inform them.” She proffered the pen and paper; Marron didn’t move. Looking at the floor, he tried to breathe. “Mr. Glace?”
“Here,” Gateau took the things. Scooting close to the desk, he prepared himself to write. Each section had five different blanks: name, date of first intercourse, date of last intercourse, contact number, contact confirmation. “Um...”
“Most recent first,” Catherine supplied.
“Marron?”
He was looking away now, sinking into that half awake, uncaring stare. “You.”
Gateau nodded, writing down his own name like his heart wasn’t rejoicing. There hadn’t been anyone else. Not that Marron would have, but still. “First time...let’s see...” He started counting back the years, Marron was twenty-two now, he was seventeen then, okay. Last. Informed.
“Next?”
“Bernard Dauns.” He was staring at the air. Gateau wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
“When?”
“Five years before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I met you.”
~***~
"I need to see you after class."
"Yes, sir."
~*~
Gateau counted in his head, recounted, and still did not like the number he was getting. Little pieces fell in, not too suddenly, as he stared at Marron. He was totally still, staring at the tile.
"Marron..."
Suddenly he stood, plastic chair scooting backwards with a squeak.
"Please excuse me," he managed before turning to walk hastily from the room. Gateau looked to Catherine, about to apologize, but met with a simple nod. Setting the pencil aside, he too left the room.
There weren't too many places to go in the little office, and he soon located Marron in the most isolated place he could think of: the men's room. Marron's hands were curled tightly into fist and pressed against the wall in front of him, his body close, drawn into itself, and his forehead lowered against the papered surface. His eyes were shut tight. Gateau had thought he would be crying, but he wasn't.
~***~
The lab table was cool underneath his bare thighs, but Marron barely felt it. He watched the man looming over him, distracting himself from the dry hands that touched him by memorizing the strands of blond hair that fell into those green eyes, the fine lines around them, but not the heated look.
"Oh, god..." the man panted, stroking Marron's penis, not yet fully grown.
The other hand that pressed into his back, supporting him, disappeared suddenly, and he fell back onto the table, his knees bent over the edge. His shoes were taken off, and the black pants pulled away hastily. His teacher fussed with his own belt and zipper; Marron watched the ceiling.
Back again, the hands, bigger than his own, separated his legs, pulling harder when he tried to bring them back together.
"No," he whispered, but the man only laughed. Something pressed against him.
It hurt. His breath caught, but it didn't stop. It felt like someone was splitting him in two, and it was hard to breath. He gasped at the air, his nails scraping over the smooth surface of the table.
"Shh, my darling," Dauns soothed, gathering the boy back into his arms. He held him there, making little thrusts into his body, watching him cry as he sang gently, "Hush little baby, don't say a word. . . "
~*~
"Don't touch me," Marron almost begged him.
"Okay," Gateau said.
~***~
There was pain and embarrassment and emptiness as he lay on the table. Gently his teacher cleaned him with a towel, sat him up, and even helped him back into his pants. Without a word he gathered his scattered books while Dauns raised the blinds.
"Marron?"
Almost at the door, he turned back.
"Don't tell."
~*~
Marron's relaxed a little, turning, he leant his back against the wall as if he might fall without it. Hands before him, he opened his fists to look at the bleeding crescents left there. He shook his head.
"I'm not..."
Wetting a paper towel, Gateau went to wipe at the marks, but Marron stopped him. Taking the towel he did it himself.
"I'm not a whore," he said, softly, half to himself.
"I know."
~*~
Tira listened to it ring. Eight. Nine. Ten times.
Frustrated, she dropped the payphone back into its cradle.
~*~
Gateau put the stack of pamphlets, cards, and samples into the trunk, not too willing to ride with such a physical symbol between them on the seat. Sliding into the car, he glanced at Marron. With scenes and tears and yelling becoming a daily part of their lives, he no longer knew what to expect, but this was not it.
Smiling, just a little, Marron looked at him.
"Can we get something to eat?"
"Yeah," he nodded. Unable to resist, he reached over and pulled the other into a hug, "anything you want."
~tbc~
So many sad chapter endings, I was in the mood for a happy one this time, though I know I left out some things in between, like, um, [insert catharsis here]. But no worries, lots of angst to come! And some more Tira, she kind of got left out in this one.
Thanks for reading!
To Skylier: Thanks for taking the time to review. I am trying to keep updates regular.
To Caribbean Blue: I do apologize for offending sensibilities, but I just do that sometimes. Still appreciate you giving me a chance.
Thanks to you all for your patience. Your reviews mean alot to poor desperate authors like me.
Now, on with the show.
Sanctuary
Chapter Fifteen: If I Tell You Why
They passed through the sterile halls and into an office in the back. Gateau wanted to hold Marron's hand, but thought better of it. They sat in two simple chairs in front of a cheap desk and waited. Though he wanted to twist and move about, just to escape the tension that hung so prevalently in the air, Marron made a visible effort to sit still, back strait in the plastic chair.
Behind them the door opened, but neither turned to look. A short, round woman stepped in front of them, motioned them not to stand, then shook both their hands in turn. Settling herself at the desk, she lifted her glasses, previously dangling by a thin gold chain around her neck, and pushed them firmly onto her face.
“Mr. Mocha, how are you today?” Her voice was more pleasant than one would have expected, seeming like it was trying to make up for the cold, white lab coat by being warm.
“Uh, good, good.”
She nodded, glanced up at Marron, then went back to her opened folder. Silence continued for a few more moments as she read, and both parties wondered if it was just to make them feel uncomfortable. Finally she sat the folder down and looked directly at them, sparing no eye contact.
“Well, gentlemen. As you know, I’m Catherine, and I think I can be alot of help to you. But first, let’s get something strait, you’ve got to be honest with me, got it? No bullshit.”
Gateau felt a little like laughing, not sure if it was because she said ‘strait’ or because the idea of such a kind little woman giving them sexual advice was just, well, funny.
“First thing is, you know this is a high-risk relationship, and you two have to be sure it’s what you really want. From what Mr. Mocha here has told me, it is. But what about you--”
“Glace.”
“Mr. Glace. Is this what you want? Are you willing to put him at risk?” She stared intently over the desk. Marron’s hands tightened into fists on his lap, but his eyes met her.
~***~
The boarding school stood in a secluded little corner of the rustic English country, far away from any unpleasant vices that might draw its young students into trouble. Even if one did get a pass to go into town, the only things to see were the famous cobblestone streets and the row of glass front shops with various expensive items. There were a couple cafes, an open air market on Saturdays, and a fountain where the regular young folk met. Reportedly there was a tavern, a pub, in the basement of one of the shops, but you had to be eighteen to get it, and none of the Autbridge boys were.
Marron didn’t mind it too much, the town anyway. Autbridge on the other hand...
In his fifth year, he was well acquainted with the rules of the school and rarely got a ruler across his hand or the like, but still the threat loomed. And the teachers hit /hard/. More than that, the solemn walls and antique paintings and all that gloomy atmosphere wore on the spirit of a young boy. Plus, to be quite honest, he sincerely missed his family, especially his brother.
Still, as his father was fond of reminding him, it was a /privilege/ to go to such a school. If not for a generous gift from a friend of his mother’s, a very specific gift, he would have probably still been at home languishing in the public education system. At least at Autbridge he managed to study literature and maths and language at a faster pace, skipping a grade in the process, and it certainly would give him a leg up when it came to college.
With all of this in his head, Marron hurried along one of the long, arched hallways. Dressed in the uniform common to all students, black pants and white shirt, a little pin that marked him as a sixth grader, he kept his books tucked tightly under his arm. Turning right, he found the door and then his seat.
As he laid out a notebook and pen, Mr. Dauns came up behind him. Not quite startled, Marron turned to look at him as a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.
~*~
“Yes.” Gateau heard the word, but looking at Marron’s face, he wasn’t sure the boy meant it. Was he just playing the part?
“Okay, then. Well, we’ll get to your current relationship in moment. First,” she pulled out a lined piece of yellow paper, “I’m gonna need a list of all your previous sexual partners so that we can inform them.” She proffered the pen and paper; Marron didn’t move. Looking at the floor, he tried to breathe. “Mr. Glace?”
“Here,” Gateau took the things. Scooting close to the desk, he prepared himself to write. Each section had five different blanks: name, date of first intercourse, date of last intercourse, contact number, contact confirmation. “Um...”
“Most recent first,” Catherine supplied.
“Marron?”
He was looking away now, sinking into that half awake, uncaring stare. “You.”
Gateau nodded, writing down his own name like his heart wasn’t rejoicing. There hadn’t been anyone else. Not that Marron would have, but still. “First time...let’s see...” He started counting back the years, Marron was twenty-two now, he was seventeen then, okay. Last. Informed.
“Next?”
“Bernard Dauns.” He was staring at the air. Gateau wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
“When?”
“Five years before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I met you.”
~***~
"I need to see you after class."
"Yes, sir."
~*~
Gateau counted in his head, recounted, and still did not like the number he was getting. Little pieces fell in, not too suddenly, as he stared at Marron. He was totally still, staring at the tile.
"Marron..."
Suddenly he stood, plastic chair scooting backwards with a squeak.
"Please excuse me," he managed before turning to walk hastily from the room. Gateau looked to Catherine, about to apologize, but met with a simple nod. Setting the pencil aside, he too left the room.
There weren't too many places to go in the little office, and he soon located Marron in the most isolated place he could think of: the men's room. Marron's hands were curled tightly into fist and pressed against the wall in front of him, his body close, drawn into itself, and his forehead lowered against the papered surface. His eyes were shut tight. Gateau had thought he would be crying, but he wasn't.
~***~
The lab table was cool underneath his bare thighs, but Marron barely felt it. He watched the man looming over him, distracting himself from the dry hands that touched him by memorizing the strands of blond hair that fell into those green eyes, the fine lines around them, but not the heated look.
"Oh, god..." the man panted, stroking Marron's penis, not yet fully grown.
The other hand that pressed into his back, supporting him, disappeared suddenly, and he fell back onto the table, his knees bent over the edge. His shoes were taken off, and the black pants pulled away hastily. His teacher fussed with his own belt and zipper; Marron watched the ceiling.
Back again, the hands, bigger than his own, separated his legs, pulling harder when he tried to bring them back together.
"No," he whispered, but the man only laughed. Something pressed against him.
It hurt. His breath caught, but it didn't stop. It felt like someone was splitting him in two, and it was hard to breath. He gasped at the air, his nails scraping over the smooth surface of the table.
"Shh, my darling," Dauns soothed, gathering the boy back into his arms. He held him there, making little thrusts into his body, watching him cry as he sang gently, "Hush little baby, don't say a word. . . "
~*~
"Don't touch me," Marron almost begged him.
"Okay," Gateau said.
~***~
There was pain and embarrassment and emptiness as he lay on the table. Gently his teacher cleaned him with a towel, sat him up, and even helped him back into his pants. Without a word he gathered his scattered books while Dauns raised the blinds.
"Marron?"
Almost at the door, he turned back.
"Don't tell."
~*~
Marron's relaxed a little, turning, he leant his back against the wall as if he might fall without it. Hands before him, he opened his fists to look at the bleeding crescents left there. He shook his head.
"I'm not..."
Wetting a paper towel, Gateau went to wipe at the marks, but Marron stopped him. Taking the towel he did it himself.
"I'm not a whore," he said, softly, half to himself.
"I know."
~*~
Tira listened to it ring. Eight. Nine. Ten times.
Frustrated, she dropped the payphone back into its cradle.
~*~
Gateau put the stack of pamphlets, cards, and samples into the trunk, not too willing to ride with such a physical symbol between them on the seat. Sliding into the car, he glanced at Marron. With scenes and tears and yelling becoming a daily part of their lives, he no longer knew what to expect, but this was not it.
Smiling, just a little, Marron looked at him.
"Can we get something to eat?"
"Yeah," he nodded. Unable to resist, he reached over and pulled the other into a hug, "anything you want."
~tbc~
So many sad chapter endings, I was in the mood for a happy one this time, though I know I left out some things in between, like, um, [insert catharsis here]. But no worries, lots of angst to come! And some more Tira, she kind of got left out in this one.
Thanks for reading!