Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Night's End ❯ Chapter Six ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and Weiß Kreuz Glühen belong to Project Weiß and whoever else has dibs on them now. I, certainly, am not one of those people, and do not claim to be. (Though it sure would warm up these cold winter nights! ^.~)
It's been far too long since I updated this. Work has been taking so much time recently that it's very hard to keep the style of this true to itself. :( This chapter has actually been sitting on my harddrive for a while now, and I decided to post it just to keep everyone happy. Don't get too attached to it though - I'm intending to go back and revise most of this later on when I have time.
Six

The visit with Yohji had been annoying as usual, tempered only by the fact that Yohji had spent more time excusing himself and darting into his bedchamber to look in on his sleeping Consort than he had spent actually visiting. Aya had indulged himself in three gobletsful of spiced wine, hoping to dull the edge of his boredom and irritation at being taken away from his own Consort, but the result had been a headache and a slight doubling of vision instead of calm. By the time he had left Yohji had seemed quite glad to be rid of him, so much so that Aya wondered why he had asked him at all. It wasn't as though they had anything to share any longer...

He reached his own door and halted, leaning his aching head against the cool, dark wood. It would be best, he decided, to take a bath followed by a long rest and burn the alcohol out of his system before the boy awoke. He didn't think he could trust himself, partially drunk and half-crazed with the Consort's scent, not to harm the fragile little thing otherwise. Growling with frustration, berating himself for having drunk the wine at all knowing how it affected him, he pushed open the door and stepped into his suite.

Immediately, before he could even shut the door or call out to Reiichi to prepare the bath, the smell struck him. A heavy, perfumed scent, making his senses cry out for relief of a need they couldn't even identify and his stomach tighten with want. A scent that breathed from the very pores of the young human sitting huddled on the settee in a ridiculously oversized bathrobe, eyes wide with fear and slim fingers clutching the fabric more closely about the otherwise nude body. What little rational thought had yet been present in his mind evaporated at the sight of bare little knees and shyly peeking pale collarbones, the muscles of the long throat working in barely visible panic and the sliver of heaving chest exposed by the robe's overlapping lapels.

With no more warning than a low growl, he pounced, scooping the boy up into his arms and ignoring the breathy scream that sounded in his ears as he clutched the slight body to his chest, nearly crushing it in his desperation. Oblivious to the presence of anyone else in the room, he bore his consort across the open expanse of the living area and through the door of the bedchamber, closing it inexorably behind them.

Omi bounced once on the mattress as he was unceremoniously let fall, his head snapping back and stunning him sufficiently that he did not have time to scramble away before the heavy body of the crimson-headed kitsune descended upon him. He screamed again in reaction to the warm weight, his voice even weaker than before as the breath was pushed from his lungs, and flailed his hands out blindly, already knowing that it was a lost cause. The kitsune would never let him go, never stop, and it mattered little what Omi thought or did.

The bathrobe was suddenly torn from him with the growling purr of rent material, the scant protection of the ruined cloth tossed carelessly over the side of the bed and onto the floor. Strong hands grasped his upper arms, holding him firmly in place and preventing him from struggling as a hot mouth fell hungrily upon the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. The sensations were overwhelming, sending unwelcome surges of heat to his loins and making him scream once again, this time with more strength. But the suction never paused, continuing until the itching ache of a bruise rose on the pale skin and then only moving its attention a little farther up towards the crease of thigh and hip.

He barely noticed when the strong grip of the kitsune's hands left his arms and skated downwards, but he arched with a sharp gasp when they brushed his nipples. The fingers skirted the swollen nubs, tracing little circles around them but never quite touching them again, as the mouth left his hip and finally latched onto his swelling sex. Omi sobbed, squirming helplessly. It hurt, and it felt wonderful, and his very being cried out for it while at the same time screamed for it to end. Despite himself he found his hands reaching down to clutch the bobbing head between his legs - not to hinder but to help, directing that hotly passionate mouth where and how to go. The sweet suction was almost too much, here too, as it had been on his inner thighs, and the pleasure swirled up in crimson waves as brilliant as his lord's hair until it overtook him entirely.

When he swam groggily back up through the gray fog that had enmeshed his mind, it was to find that he had been turned onto his belly and his knees tucked under him, thrusting his buttocks up and out. A warm tongue was laving the ridge of his spine, taking long swipes up to tease the junction of neck and skull then back down between his buttocks to play over an all too tender area behind his scrotum, pressing just enough to produce blinding jolts of pleasure that made his thighs convulse and threaten to drop him flat.

So intense was the pleasure that he didn't notice when the first finger entered him, parting the spasming little ring of muscle and gaining entry with no resistance. The digit slid in up to the first knuckle before twisting back out, beginning a subtle rhythm that left Omi panting breathlessly without ever realizing what exactly had changed. It was only when the second finger, slightly longer and thicker than the first, joined in the dance that the stretching became overt enough for his liquid consciousness to recognize it. He whimpered then, burying his face more deeply into the circle of his forearms and breathing in the sunwarmed smell of the coverlet beneath him. Sudden hazy faraway memories of the conversation with Schuldig, held in the damp of the bathing room as he was soaked clean, washed over him and reminded him of just what would happen next; what was expected of him as a consort. He shuddered, feeling the muscle clamping uncontrollably tighter about the intruding fingers.

"Sshhhh..." The sound was sibilant, the breath that had created it brushing the lobe of his ear and making all of the fine hairs on his body stand on end with pleasure. "Ssshhhhhhhh, my consort...", and then he was being turned back over to face his lover, his bare legs spread to make room for the kitsune's hips between them. The mouth which only a few moments before had suckled him to such explosive release now pressed against his own, the agile tongue lapping at his teeth and demanding entry in no uncertain terms. He moaned, reaching hands up to grasp broad shoulders only to have them pushed away and his calves gripped tightly instead, pulled up a bit and wrapped around a trimly muscled waist. Then the fingers returned to their lazy dance - one finger, two fingers, finally three fingers scissoring inside him and stretching the tender opening.

The kitsune made a noise of deep content, almost a growl, deep in his chest as he released Omi's kiss-bruised mouth and moved down to bury his nose in the curve of neck and shoulder. Both hands, one sliding down from its grasp on a bare hip and the other up from its survey of the hot inner channel, gripped his buttocks in a strangely caressing gesture, separating the flesh and lifting him, exposing him to the sudden rounded heat of something pressing against the newly widened orifice.

Omi cried out, sudden dread welling in him. It was one thing to know in theory that everything that occurred was in preparation for this penetration - another thing entirely to abruptly face the penetration itself. He sobbed, losing both desire and composure entirely, and flailed on the coverlets, his hands spasmodically clutching at the fabric. There was a pause heavy laden with physical frustration, and then he was being lifted from the bed, his thrashing arms held still as he was cradled gently. His nose nuzzled forlornly in the hollow of a sweaty clavicle, seeking comfort against the creeping fear as calloused hands cupped his buttocks and tenderly lowered him onto that frightening, thick heat.

The blunt head stretched him uncomfortably but not painfully at first, making him feel for a fleeting moment as though he would embarrass himself by losing control of his bodily functions. He whimpered again, tensing in the arms that circled him...but then the feeling was gone, replaced by a sensation of such utter fullness that he could feel his heartbeat speed up and his blood pulse hotly through his veins. The hands on his buttocks lifted him slightly, pulling him up and almost off of the impalement before lowering him once more, sliding him down the shaft until the root was nestled against the stretched muscle of the orifice. On the third downstroke the angle changed, pressing his face more tightly into the crevice of the shoulder and making the hot length within him brush something that set off the most lovely explosions behind his tightly-closed eyelids. He screamed, feeling his spine arch helplessly and his sphincter tighten in response, and a moment later was falling into the sweet embrace of earth-shattering orgasm once more.

The kitsune followed him into climax a few moments later, his hoarse cry sounding loud and wild, muffled against the crown of Omi?s head as it was. Omi hung in the reassuring grasp for a silent moment, and then burst into shaky, helpless tears, feeling all the insecurites and fears of the past days come flooding to overwhelm him. He clung to his new mate as he was lowered to the bed and tucked into the curve of the other?s body, back to chest with the kitsune?s warm hand resting on his belly reassuringly. No words were needed as they both slipped into a deep and exhausted slumber.

The next morning dawned bright and cheery, sunlight flooding in through the tall window on the western side of the room as Aya extricated himself from his clinging consort and pulled on a robe that was lying nearby. Irritably, he unbraided his hair and began the long process of brushing it, knowing that leaving it would only make the whole affair worse later. There were times when he wondered why he had ever allowed his sister to talk him into growing his hair out, but now, with her gone, he couldn't seem to bring himself to get it cut no matter how annoying it got.

The sunlight had slid a few inches across the bedchamber floor by the time he finished, but the small lump in the middle of the bed had not moved at all. Soft snores came from beneath the jumble of bedclothes as well as the occasional mumble, but of waking there was no sign. Aya's eyes narrowed, and then one corner of his mouth twitched faintly upward. Going to the foot of the bed, he took hold of the coverlets and tugged, leaving them in a hopeless jumble and revealing the sleep-flushed form of his consort. The little human gave a decidedly impolite snort, his hands searching blindly for the missing covers before finally returning to shield his face from the bright light.

But this Aya would not have. Reaching down, he pulled the slender arms away from their protective position, forcing them down to the boy?s sides as he gently shook the slight form. Large blue eyes snapped open in response, shock registering in their bright depths as the boy made an aborted attempt to pull away from the grip on his arms. Aya merely tightened his hold, giving the boy a warning glare that made him still entirely.

"Hush." With only that warning the kitsune scooped his consort up into his arms and bore him, still naked, out into the living area. They passed Schuldig arranging a plate of something distinctly good-smelling at the low table, but Aya ignored him and went on, pushing open the bathing room door and depositing his slight burden on the bench beside the tub.

"My - my lord'" The voice was soft, sweetly ringing, but Aya ignored it as well and regulated the water temperature with single-minded concentration. The boy did not attempt to speak again, and when the tub was filled Aya stripped himself and lowered them both into the steaming water, chest to chest.

There was silence for a few minutes more, Aya being content merely to bask in the heat and the sweet sensation of the boy's wet flesh against his own. The night before was fogged with both lust and alcohol in his mind and he wanted to replace those half-formed memories with new ones, but there were more important discoveries to be made at the moment. Lifting his knees up in the water he pressed the boy back to lay reclined against them, supporting the boy's head with one hand and staring sternly down into large blue eyes.

"Your name, boy'"

The human startled at the sound of his voice, but Aya did not bother to soothe him or to repeat the question in a gentler tone. The human would simply have to get used to his lord's moods, willing or not.

"Omi, my lord. My name is Omi." A pointed pink tongue swept out, lapping a droplet of moisture from the cushion of the bottom lip and Aya looked away.

"Hn." He turned the name over in his mind, weighing it carefully. It fitted the boy in a strange way, the childishness of the twin syllables seeming appropriate to the boy's rounded cheeks and great eyes. Omi, his new consort, and bearer of his children soon enough. Ah, and there was another question he needed answered.

"The attendant spoke to you'"

Omi tilted his head to one side, the shell of his ear pressing against Aya's thumb. He was not trembling, as he had been earlier, but his nervousness was still plain to be seen. "A-about why I am here' Yes, he did. He explained the whole thing, actually, beginning with the first consort and going through the bond and the difference between consort and slave and -"

"Quiet." The scowl Aya displayed would have cowed even Reiichi, who had grown rather used to his master's expressions, but Omi only snapped his mouth shut and peeked up through drooping brown lashes.

"Yes, my lord."

The boy did not make another sound: not when Aya slipped a hand between their bodies and wrapped a hand about both of them, beginning a slow rhythm, nor when he was lifted up and lowered slowly onto the thickness. Aya found himself looking upon the slight human with something like respect for how bravely he bore the taking, for surely it must have caused him pain after the previous coupling.

They both came hard a few moments later, Omi slumping tiredly against his lord's chest as Aya lay back in the tub and collected himself for a moment. The hold the boy's scent had on the kitsune's senses was not so strong, now that he had sated himself once again, but he knew that that would not be the case forever and they both needed to finish their bath and eat before the urges rose back up.

Easing one arm out just far enough to grab a beaker of soft soap, he poured a bit over the cloth lying at hand on the tub's rim and began to scrub his unresponsive consort's back. The boy hardly twitched during the entire process, so exhausted was he, and finally Aya gave up and washed himself around the boy's clinging arms and straddling legs. Eyelids fluttered uncertainly when Aya rose from the rapidly cooling bathwater, slender arms tightening their hold a bit more, but there was still no more than a vague moan before Omi slipped back into dreams.

It took awhile to get them both reasonably dry, balancing Omi on one hip while wielding a length of toweling over them both, but it was not as difficult as it could have been if he had chosen to wash their hair as well as their bodies. When he was certain that the boy was not so slippery as to be dangerous, he lowered him face-down onto the bench and spread the pale legs apart, draping one over the side of the bench and propping the other against the wall. The small opening, newly reddened and abraded from use, was swollen, and Aya reached for the bottle of healing lotion that had been set out slightly apart from the others. He poured a generous portion into his hand and massaged it gently into the abused tissue, dipping his fingers into the orifice with each stroke until the irritation began to abate.

When he was satisfied with the results, he wiped the excess lotion off onto the toweling and rose, sliding into his robe and belting it shut. He didn't bother fully dressing Omi, merely wrapped the boy in a dry length of towelling and gathered him up, pushing through the bathing room door and heading for the bedchamber.

"Reiichi! A tray to my room," he called out, knowing that his manservant would understand.