Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ No More Yielding but a Dream? ❯ No More Yielding But a Dream? ( Chapter 1 )

No More Yielding but a Dream?

Be still, be calm, be quiet, now my precious boy

Don't struggle like that or I will only love you more

For it's much too late to get away or turn on the light

The spiderman is having you for dinner tonight

~The Cure

"Lullaby"

You are so fucking beautiful. Svelte and silken like some pampered pet. Such pretty pale skin…and no visible scars. Strange for an assassin, but tempting, very tempting...the idea of leaving my mark on that paleness. Desecration has always been a hobby of mine; corruption is an art few pay attention to.

I've come to know you in our fleeting moments. Your scent, which clings to you even in battle, is the dark sweet fragrance of roses and soil. Do you taste of them as well? I know your mouth, tender lips that reside always on the border of a scowl, hard, demanding, silently begging to be assaulted, subdued. Dominated.

You're not a top, kätzchen; no matter what role you play among your litter. Unrelenting and demanding in the business, you push your team to their limits, but behind that stony curtain, that layer of ice, you are so fresh. Such an innocent little killer, aren't you?

God, that makes the cravings worse.

* * *

I see you through the shining glass of the Koneko, watch you dance through the crowd of tender young things that like to gather around the shop when their day is over.

Oh, don't yell at them. They adore you. Ah, but you don't know how to deal with them. You don't know how to deal with anyone's attention to you if it doesn't involve the direct termination of your life. You don't handle well the attraction of others. Lust incarnate and as asexual as a plant. Ch, disappointing.

There's so much I could teach you… I want to see that mask shatter, the look in your eyes, on that perfectly pale face when I make you aware of me. You'd have a hard time swallowing that little tidbit wouldn't you? A man lusting after you…and one such as me. Oh, poor bisschen kätzchen. (It's a good thing I've never let myself be hindered by what other people think. My name is Guilty for a reason.) Mm, and those walls of yours are not so impenetrable. They won't keep you from me. It's a cliché, I know, but I always get what I want. What can I say? I was raised an only child. Seeing-wanting-and-having was ingrained early on. I want you; so I'll have you.

What do you say, kätzchen, to a little mind fucking?

* * *

How ridiculously easy it is to slip inside the Koneko. For assassins, your security is sorely lacking. Then again, I've not yet met an object I couldn't bend to my will, door, alarm, or human.

Through processions of flowers, silky and bright and sweet smelling I make my way to the back of the shop, pausing only for a moment to take in the sight of a large pale rose and pluck it from its arrangement. It's the color of crème, of the earliest hours of morning. The petals are silk and velvet, the stem sprinkled with vicious thorns.

I twirl the stalk between my fingers and continue on. Coming to the entrance of the house behind the shop, I flit through sunlight and shadow and take the stairs to the second floor. The hall is empty, and quiet, and glittering in the late afternoon sun. Only one door is closed, kätzchen, and it is yours.

Slipping through is easy enough as you've not bothered to lock it. Why should you? You weren't expecting any visitors. And I was not expecting the sight before me.

Burning hair, tousled from restless sleep, thrown across the pillow. Skin pale and naked, smooth against the crème colored sheets. You turn onto your side and your hair falls over one eye like a crimson veil; the single sheet dips low on your hips, falling to that precarious point on your abdomen, scant inches away from revealing too much.

Who would've thought you'd sleep nude, hm? Perhaps Kudou has been rubbing off on you more than I realized…

Finally, close enough to touch without having that ridiculous shi-ne glare directed at me. I run my fingers delicately over the cloth, the lightest of caresses; it won't due to have you awaken. You stir only slightly as the sheet slips another fraction down your skin. Remembering the rose, I brush the petals of the flower along the slope of your hip, trail to the valley of your waist. The flower is as pale as you are, kätzchen. There is no movement from you; you're drowning in dreams. I lean in close, take in the scent of flesh, of hair and allow my mind to slip inside yours.

Just for a sip…

You taste bittersweet; of roses and soil.

It is the concoction of your soul, the flavor of your mind; dark and light; jaded and naïve; cruel and loving. Corrupted…yet innocent.

How lovely .

Now, let us see what fun can be had.

Relax. I feel you tensing up. Pretend it's only another dream, illusory phantoms in your brain. No one can blame you for a dream. You won't know better when you awake, anyhow… Let go of your inhibitions. There's no one else here. Hidaka's busy with the kiddies; Kudou with his latest afternoon conquest (and wouldn't you be interested to know who he pictures in her place…) and the chibi is being haggled by the educational system.

There's no one around to hear you scream.

Just me.

And for me, you will.

* * *

Your brain is a whirling impulse of contradiction, thrusting angrily against my mind, though partly willing to yield to my intrusion. I trail a mental hand through the rushing waves, ectoplasmic fingers tease and caress the silken electric currents. The brain is the most erogenous zone, kätzchen, controlling the reactions of the rest of the body, capable of pushing you to the ragged edge of pleasure and beyond. This mental caress is nearly as intimate as slipping my fingers into your abdomen and touching the thick velvet of your intestine…though not quite as immediate, I'll admit.

You're trembling now, tender flesh puckering delicately to keep in warmth. I appreciate the new texture.

The blanket has fallen away, leaving my view of you unobstructed. I should've trusted your coloring was natural. You aren't the type to deal in such frivolities.

Your lips are parted slightly, slack and smooth with sleep. I finally have my chance to taste you. I lean down, run the tip of my tongue along your chin, up and over the tender red of your lip, press close, mouth to hot mouth. Even your kiss tastes of roses.

Can you see us, kätzchen?

I lie down next to you, feel the heat from your body running along mine like the current from a live wire. Let me get into that mind of yours, again, revel in it like a lover's embrace. I'll have to settle for less fleshly accoutrements wrapped around me…for the moment.

Now, dream for me. Let me craft you an image:

* * *

You move close, unconsciously seeking the warmth from my body. It is instinct, pure, animal, hidden. Bare flesh brushes against the fabric of my coat, a nipple teases cool metal buttons, hardens into a dusky pearl. I slide my hands along your skin, beginning at the ridge of your hips, rising to trail over those taught nipples that I scrape lightly with my nails.

A shiver runs through you, very light. Shall I go on? Inside your mind again, where all is dark and cold as winter, where the chill in your eyes and the frost on your lips emanate from. No one has ever made you melt, have they? I'll be the first. I'd love to have you melt around me.

Open your dreaming eyes; see me.

Deep amethyst edged in black, lazy and dazed with alien feeling.

Even here I feel your hesitation. Your mind clamps around me, so sweet and tight, kätzchen.

I am not letting you go.

Ihr seid mein.

I sidle to my knees, straddle your hips as you tense in preparation for flight.

Oh, stop struggling so. Your mind feels like a caged starling, wings beating in rapid procession against the walls of my skull.

I rip the sheet from your body, exposing every pale inch of you to warm afternoon air.

"Ah, anger. You are beauty, even in anger. Utterly…fuckable."

A pale blush spreads across the bridge of your nose, glints in your eyes and colors the flesh just above your cheekbones.

"Would that blush come with orgasm, too?" I wonder as I nip at your lips.

"How does that sound, heated anger and hot pleasure?" I rub my hips hard against you feeling your reaction to the sensations of me and of soft cloth pressing hard against my thigh. Süssigkeit.

"Don't frown so. You want this; the body doesn't lie. What? You thought I came here for a purely aesthetic pleasure? Oh, no. My cravings are for things more tangible…"

Oh, distress. Tsk. Do you know what the thoughts of the troubled taste like? Dark, bitter, viscous, like decay flowing between my lips. Do you know what yours taste like? They have the flavor of molten honey; hot and thick and sweet. It just makes me want to roll you about on my tongue.

I fall forward, let the waves of my hair trail across your shoulders as I roll one hard droplet of flesh between my lips, lap at it like a kitten with sweet crème and, bite down tasting the salt of your body and leaving an angry red ellipse on that pale skin. My brand.

You push against me, hands gripping my shoulders, tugging my hair in a futile attempt to throw me off.

This may be your dream, but I'll do as I please.

A low growl-how very cat-like-trembles from your throat as I force y our arms above your head, press your wrists against the metal parapets of the bed and bind you with my headband.

I love this image of you, bound and helpless. I'll be dreaming of it…

Now I'm free to roam your body, explore the subtle differences in each area of your flesh, specifically in the sensitive space between your legs… Another growl-or was that a purr? -as I sweep my fingers across the valley of your hips, watching as the muscles flex and tighten before you push yourself deep into the mattress.

"About time you became an active part in this, kätzchen."

On my knees, I run my hands down, from your bound wrists, over the faint dusting of hair beneath your arms, to come to rest on your nipples. I trail damp kisses across your ribs, low on your abdomen, play my tongue along the fine hairs below your navel. My gaze flicks lower and I let my lips spread open against your skin.

"Aroused, lovely one?"

I suck and bite at the smooth skin on the apex of your hips, left and right in turn, before cupping the length of you in my hand. I slowly stroke the sensitive flesh; you're soft and smooth, like velvet, new petals, fresh blooms. My thumb slides over the tip of you, swirls the tiny pearlescent droplet found there along the flushed skin.

I lick the flesh nestled in the red of your hair; you taste of salt and musk. My tongue trails across your hardness, tease the slit tip, tests your liquid core before I take you into my mouth.

Shatter. Your thoughts scatter like so many dust motes, and dance along my skin. They shiver slightly then fall away.

You tug at your bonds, strain against them, burn your delicate wrists with the friction of the tight cloth; arching in frustration you succeed only in driving yourself further into me and a mangled scream escapes your lips. But it feels good, doesn't it? Having the choices taken out of your hands, the responsibilities lie with someone else.

"Relax. Enjoy it."

The first tremble starts deep inside your abdomen, sifts through viscous cells, the pink tissue of muscle walls, seeps outward until it reaches the foremost layer of skin and travels down. Down through your hips, thighs, your calves, the arches of your feet. I feel it in roiling waves beneath my fingertips. They capsize, roll, crash to the shore. Another sound from you, an almost pained moan, trimmed with pleasure. You bite down hard on your lip to keep it from leaving your throat, but I hear it anyway. (Such a sweet sound; what that pale, golden kitten wouldn't give to hear it…) The very essence of you spills into my mouth, over my tongue, hot, raw with a taste of something strange and rich. Intoxicatingly exotic, intoxicatingly you.

I take the very last drop of you into me, lick you clean and lay my head to rest between your hips, hand still slowly stroking the now softened skin.

Love your taste, kätzchen.

In fact, I could come to crave it.

Lying beside you, I glance at you face, your eyes are shut, brows creased in concentration. You hold your wrists loosely against the iron of the bed, struggling against those mental fetters. Blood has blossomed and gone dry on your lower lip. Pleasure that intense, kitty? You've gone through your flesh.

I lay my head on your abdomen, watch the rise and fall of your ribcage as you try to catch your breath. Kitten, it was exquisite. Mind fucking was once only an amusing past time, a tattered medium, but with you…it is an art to be explored on the next level. I have the taste of you on my tongue…

I lift myself from the bed, rather unsteadily, and tuck the damp green strands that have fallen into my eyes behind the headband. You're drowning again, kätzchen. The bonds have disappeared, but you've curled in on yourself. Mm, I don't want to see this come to self-loathing. Maybe later but not now. I don't want this remembered in the faintest ephemeral flashes. I want you to know .

I take the white rose that had been discarded on your bed and run the silky petals against your lips. The passion bite has clotted. No matter. I run the tip of my tongue along your lower lip, roll the flesh between my teeth until I taste the sweet copper tang of your blood. The silken petals again, this time, spotted crimson.

Desecration of white. Almost sickeningly symbolic, no?

I leave it beside you. On the pillow where you will be sure to see it when you wake. And now, I must take my leave. The others will be home soon, wouldn't want them to find me here with you. They might try to eviscerate me.

The only claws I want to feel are yours.

~Fin~

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kätzchen-kitten

Bisschen-little

Lieb-love

Ihr seid mein-You're/You are mine

Süssigkeit-sweet