Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Snippet #4: Mysterious Ways ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: "Weiss Kreuz" and related characters are not mine. If they were, they'd be having sex more often and in various creative ways.

Notes: Story #4 in the Snippets series. This one is dedicated to Arcina: happy belated birthday, Achan!

You must see episode 4 before reading this, otherwise it won't make much sense.

Archiving: White Illusion, WKYaoi, FF.Net and my own website by default. Others, please ask.

Pairing: RanKen/KenRan

Rating: R

Warning: Semi-explicit sex.

There is a patch of smooth skin, low on Ken's back.

Ran knows it is there, because early in their relationship he made the mistake of brushing it with the tips of his fingers. Ken had frozen up, becoming a dead weight on Ran's chest before rolling off him.

They did not make love that night. Neither did they fuck, kiss, suck each other off -- did not touch in any way until late at night when Ken abruptly burrowed into Ran's side, under his left arm.

Words are fragile in their bloodied hands, so they did not speak. Ran learns not to touch the palm-sized spot, adds the knowledge to the library his body is building on Ken, and forgets about it in the same way one forgets that one has five fingers.

On the night Ran remembers, the sheets are damp against his back and Ken is hard inside him. Ken is as impulsive in bed as he is elsewhere, and on this night Ran allows himself the freedom to submerge his control in the dark storms of Ken's eyes. Ran arches up at a particularly forceful thrust, clawing at Ken's back in an effort to inscribe the pain-pleasure of joining onto Ken's skin. His nails bite into the unnaturally smooth patch, drawing blood.

Ken howls and comes, shuddering.

Ran is still unsatisfied and Ken willingly opens his legs, arms raised in surrender next to sweat-dampened dark hair on white pillows. As always Ran takes his pleasure, but a part of his mind remains troubled even in the fleeting madness of orgasm. In the morning after, Ran finds bloodstains on the sheets.

Ran begins to watch, and begins to see. He keeps his gaze fixed on Ken's lower back as Ken does his warm-ups before a soccer game. Ken's jersey rides up when he stretches and Ran sees the bald skin become painfully taut. He knows that it hurts Ken, sees the nagging ache in the tight corners of Ken's mouth.

When Ken bends to pick up a heavy flowerpot, Ran offers to help, but he is firmly rebuffed. He turns away when he sees Ken's pain, unable to watch the barely discernible pause before Ken straightens and carries the pot to the sunlit footpath outside the flowershop. Ran wishes he could carry away Ken's troubles just as easily, and his helplessness angers him.

Weeks later they lie together in bed under a rumpled duvet, listening to the pattering rain. Their bedroom window is slightly open and the cold wind blows some of the water in, leaving dark stains on the curtain, but they are warm in each other's arms.

Ran slides his hand down Ken's back, feeling the roughness of other scars. He stops a hair's breadth away from the smooth patch of skin, tightening his hold on Ken.

"Why?" he asks.

Ken kisses the small space between Ran's clavicles and closes his eyes, rubbing them against Ran's neck.

"Because I want to remember who I was," he answers.

Gently, Ran fits his hand against the spot. Ken's skin heats under his touch, but Ken shivers before drawing closer, seeming to melt against the angles of Ran's body.

"Tell me," Ran whispers, relearning the sacredness of Ken's breath. "So we can remember together."

-owari-

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