Title: Paper Trail
Author: Tsutsuji
Fandom: Pandora Hearts
Pairing: Break/Reim 3
Rating: - M -
Warning: messy fun sex ;D
Word count: around 1660
Summary: Break decides to indulge Reim's fetish for paperwork. Reim is not amused. Takes place sometime way before Retrace 43.
Reim heads into the library at Pandora headquarters in a good mood for once. No emergencies pending so far today (although, granted, it's early yet), hardly anyone else up and around yet, even, so he's ready for a few good, quiet, productive hours of reading, research, and organizing reports to add to the stacks of documents in the library.
He stops cold when he sees a couple of sheets of paper on the floor, halfway across the room to his usual desk. He frowns at this sloppiness, but he tries not to let it ruin his good mood; it should be simple enough to find out where they belong and put them away. But when he stoops to pick them up he notices, out of the corner of his eye, a couple more loose pages over near the stacks. He goes to pick those up as well, and sees some more just around the corner of that row of shelves.
Then he sees more beyond those, and another stray sheet further down that aisle, and each time he stops to pick up a page he sees another, just around another corner. Just as he starts to get an inkling that it's as if someone left a trail of papers leading deeper into the stacks, he comes around the corner at the far end of one of the far rows, and sees a great pile of papers on the floor in the middle of the aisle.
Reim stops and stares, disbelief unraveling into horror, slipping toward rage at the sight: white and cream colored pages, a few scrolls and the yellowed old contents of several unbound portfolios, all in a big heap on the floor. He recognizes handwritten reports, old letters, inventories, a map or two, and - he looks closer - an eye. One red eye that peers up at him from under the pile, and he realizes, with a flush of he's-not-sure-what, that some of that creamy whiteness is not paper at all, but pale hair and bare skin.
At which realization Reim's good mood does not so much evaporate as implode.
"Xerxes Break!" he yelps.
He sees the inevitable grin appear among the sheets, and he knows it's in reaction to his own inevitable reaction.
Break moves under the pile. His hands appear, and bare arms, and a naked thigh as the papers slide off to the floor. Reim thinks: oh no, he wouldn't! But of course Break would, and did, and undoubtedly is entirely naked under all that pile of invaluable, precious Pandora records....
"What are you doing!" he snaps, cringing even as he says it because he's sure he doesn't really want to hear Break's answer.
"Oh, Reim, I'm just indulging your fetish for books and paperwork!" Reim says happily. He wiggles - suggestively - under the pile.
"F-f-fetish!" Reim sputters, helplessly, as more of Break's skin appears, paper-pale, as fine as unwritten parchment.... as Reim already knows it is, rather well, although he swears he never thought of Break's skin exactly that way before.
Break picks up one of the sheets lying on his stomach (exposing a little more skin) and squints at it. Reim can't help noticing that there's either a much thicker pile across his hips, or something is lifting it up higher in that area.
He feels his face and ears turn red, hot enough to steam up his glasses, torn between fury and arousal at the thought of all those precious sheets of paper sliding between Break's thighs, pressed up against his flesh....
"Hmm, what's this," Break muses, glancing over the sheet he picked up, casually. His left hand reaches across to press more papers to his chest, absently, crushing them slightly as he - Reim feels something catch in his throat - rubs his palm over what Reim knows is probably (oh, no, definitely!) his sensitive right nipple.
"Not very interesting reading, really," Break mutters. He glances up at Reim, his eye gleaming as he watches him standing there, stiff in shock and a whole confusion of reactions. Then he tosses that sheet aside, and starts to grab a fistful of the rest off his body as if to toss them aside as well.
Hearing the crackle of all those hopelessly disorganized sheets of precious records about to be crumpled and flung aside, Reim pounces. He makes a grab for Break's hand - and the next thing he knows he's rolling in the pile of papers too, gasping breathless, suddenly easy prey to Break's hands and his mouth tugging at him and pulling at his clothes. All the while, he's still frantically trying to rescue a few uncrumpled sheets as if they are his last shreds of sanity.
It's no use. He groans when Break finally settles half on top of him, somehow already having pushed his jacket and shirt off in that magician-quick way he has of undressing him (a trick that Reim has grudgingly come to appreciate on other, more appropriate occasions). He gasps as he feels the smooth, cool glide of paper pressed between their bodies, and Break's hot puff of laughter on his throat.
Even while he winces at the rustling sound of documents crumpling up under him and between them, he holds on to Break's shoulders and presses up against him when Break slips one hand into his trousers. The feel of that familiar, clever, insistent hand on him is hardly any more arousing than the feel of Break's own erection pressing through vellum against his thigh.
"Dammit, Xerxes," he manages to mutter, making one last suitably disgruntled protest before Break's stroking hand starts to shatter his ability to think coherently. But that only gives Break a chance to slip his tongue between Reim's lips, and the hum of his laughter vibrates right down Reim's spine.
Really, he hasn't thought of the taste of Break as being something like paper, like old books holding unguessed secrets, or of his lips as being dry and firm like parchment, or of his skin being as smooth and cool as the finest writing stock...
Reim tries to remember to worry about what's printed on all these pages and where they all belong, and tries to protest about the impropriety, the mess, and (not least of all) the terrible possibility of being found like this. Break forestalls his attempts to regain sense with a few firm strokes of his hand, and with the insistent nudge of his own erection against Reim's thigh.
With his usual skill, Break manages to get them arranged as he wants them before Reim even realizes what he's doing. In this case, that arrangement is with Reim's shoulder pressed back against the leather-covered spines of books on the lowest row of the stack, and Break half on top of him, half crouching over him, stroking him with one hand and three fingers of the other thrust into his mouth (tasting of peppermint and chocolate and vaguely of ink), and his tongue in Reim's ear.
"Ah-ha; you see, Reim, I knew you'd like doing it in the library!" Break whispers.
The vibration of his voice (and the embarrassing truth of the words) spirals down Reim's spine to his toes, melting everything along the way. Break humps against him, the soft grunts in Reim's ear betraying his urgency, and his hand strokes faster now, and sheets of paper rustle, sliding around between them and under them.
Reim knows that, any minute now, Break will push him down, or more likely pull him down on top of him, guiding him in to bring him to climax inside of him, just as he usually does. But Break seems too impatient for that this time, his hand and mouth and breath so insistent that Reim is startled by his own suddenly impending orgasm. From the familiar, high-pitched sound like a gasp of hysterical laughter in his ear, he knows Break is on the verge as well.
He finally realizes why they are not having intercourse this time. With eyes clenched shut and shuddering, he hears the soft splat of fluid hitting paper. He groans - not so much in the ecstasy of orgasm but in horror - but there's nothing he can to do stop it now.
"Xerxes... you ... on purpose..." he pants, but considering the state he's in, it sounds more like a moan of passion than the indignant accusation he meant it to be.
As soon as it's over, he tries to scramble free of the mess, but Break is all arms and legs around him, giggling softly to himself with his face pressed against Reim's shoulder. So he gives up for the moment and slumps back against the book stacks, and just sighs irritably. He can only hope that nothing too valuable just got drenched.
"Really, Xerxes," he says, as sternly as he can. He feels a little betrayed by his body for being so content; it takes all the force out of his scolding. "Even if you wanted to have sex in the library, was this much mess really necessary? You are going to clean this up and put everything back where it belongs, of course!"
"Oh, there's gratitude!" Break pouts, deftly avoiding any promise of cleaning up. "After I went to all this trouble to arrange everything to make it especially good for you, Reim! Well, that's fine. Next time, we'll just go to my favorite place to have sex instead."
Reim does not dare ask or even try to imagine where Break's favorite place might be (or what cupboard they might have to crawl through to get there). Maybe, he thinks, sex in the library is not such a terrible idea, after all.
~~ the end ~~