Warning- MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS, M/M (you have been warned) XP , mild swearing (by that I mean, like, two bad words! XD)
I hope you'll like it and please let me know what you think! I have no problem with constructive criticism, in fact I welcome it! Thank you in advance!
Also, I do NOT own South Park or any of the characters (except for Crystal! She's all mine! XD)
Sweet and Bitter Fragrance
They say that when you are about to die your whole life flashes before your eyes. How would people know that? If they were about to die how could they share this information with the ones still living?
Those were the sorts of things that played on The Mole's mind before he was about to die. His whole life had been a continuous struggle at best and it would take a lot more than the few minutes he had left to remember it all. It came with the job of being a mercenary.
His breath came in heavily and his throat hurt. Each gulp of air reminded him that half his ribs and a good portion of his rib cage were broken. He couldn't move his arms or feel his legs, maybe they were broken too. He had no idea anymore.
He searched his mind for the last time he was beaten senseless and then left in a dark alleyway to die during the cold, merciless nights. He really messes up bad this time. He shouldn't have agreed to help that old geezer in his fanatic antics. Oh well, too late for regrets now...
With his last strength he muttered his usual trash talk about god, his eyelids becoming heavy. They closed slowly like they knew they would never open again. But he didn't immediately fall into unconsciousness. Heaven forbid for any small acts of kindness...
He was so tired he couldn't even think, but his ears still worked fine and he could still hear the soft drumming of the rain drops across the cold surface of the pavement. It was like a soft lullaby. Christophe found it oddly soothing. It would probably be the last thing he ever heard anyway.
Then it was disturbed. He heard harsh splashes nearing him. Footsteps? To the dying man they seemed far away and way too late, but as the darkness enveloped him he still herd the approaching steps with increased urgency. It was strange but he felt reassured.
He was a bit happy that he won't die alone, surrounded by empty apartment blocks that loomed threateningly above him. And his body hopefully won't be left here for the rats and stray dogs to dismember.
It made no difference in the end though. The silence and darkness consumed him.
Warmth? Comfort? Sweet smells? Was this what heaven felt like? Christophe's eyes were still closed but the rest of him was fully awake and alert. He felt a soft material covering his body and realized that he was only wearing a pair of trousers, light ones by the feel of them.
He could hear small sounds from far away but he couldn't quite make out what they were. He flexed his fingers and they responded eagerly, confirming that his arms were unhurt. Then he touched the side of his ribs and he muttered a muffled curse.
Heaven wasn't supposed to hurt! Gingerly he opened his eyes and he was temporarily blinded by the sudden flood of light. He blinked a few times until his vision adjusted. Next he tried to sit up, but that proved too difficult.
He vaguely remembered beeing severely injured in the thoracic area and he winced in pain every time he moved. Eventually, with great efforts, he managed to sit up. He felt his bruised skin again and this time he also looked down to see bandages wrapped neatly and carefully around his injuries.
Someone had saved him. But who? And where was he anyway? He scratched his messy brown hair and looked around in confusion. The room was like a complete opposite of his own living quarters. While he owned a small, messy, relatively dirty, apartment in a poor district, this was a huge, tidy, immaculate space. This was only ONE room! He wondered what the rest of the place looked like, if he could fit his whole apartment in one room.
Whoever owned this place clearly had money, and lots of it. On closer inspection the soft sheets draping his body were satin and the pillow covers were made out of pure silk. The room had a simple taste but even The Mole's untrained eyes could tell it was elegant.
The floor was wooden and a light coffee brown in color. This matched the orange paint on the walls and the ivory ceiling. The furniture in the room was all made out of oak and it resembled a combination of the floor and walls in color. The placed looked like it had been designed by professionals.
This brought another question forth. Why would someone as wealthy as this take care of him? He could have easily passed off as a beggar or something, on that street, covered in dirt and blood. Did he by any chance know him?
The only person he knew that was this rich was...him. As soon as his thoughts drifted to that guy, Christophe automatically shook himself, refusing to remember. But it was too late. Just that simple recollection stabbed at his heart.
It had been years since they last saw each other. Ever since the South Park incident now that he thought about it. He was now 23 and Gregory would be 22, one year younger. He could easily recall Gregory's features, but that was over a decade ago. He wondered what he looked like now. Once more he shook himself, this time causing himself pain from his forgotten wounds.
Unfortunately now that the younger man was in his head, it was hard to get rid of him. He was like a virus. Even the smell of the room reminded him of Gregory. The sweet fragrance of roses. But roses can cause just as much pain as they are beautiful. A pain so sharp that Christophe still felt it.
All those memories were making him very uneasy and anxious. He had to move. He stepped out of the bed and warmth seeped through his bare feet. The floor was well heated despite not having a carpet.
It was painful at first but he was getting more and more accustomed with the pain and once he stood up he walked, slowly but steadily. At such a time he would have gone straight for a cigarette. Smoking was the only thing that calmed him down...
When he was in this state of mind he was sure to go through a whole pack before he felt like himself again. He really ached for one right now and he threw glances around the room, knowing it was futile, but non-the-less he had to do it.
To his surprise he found a pack on a desk pressed against one of the walls. Beside it was a dark blue shirt neatly folded. He picked up the clothing and, as expected, it was expensive. He threw it over himself but didn't button it and picked up the cigarettes.
He was starting to think it was Gregory who owned the house more and more. The pack he had in his hand was the brand he most enjoyed. But since they were a bit more expensive he usually couldn't afford them, except when he got a good job. How would his benefactor know this? Maybe it was just a lucky choice.
There was also a lighter besides the cigarettes and he was about to light it when he stopped. The memory of how much Gregory disliked the smell of tobacco came back to him. Besides, he could do with some fresh air...
He tried the door and it was unlocked. As soon as it swung open he found hmself face to face with a woman. She was shorter than him, with hazel eyes and black hair neatly tied in a bun. By her clothes, Christophe was able to identify her as a maid. She showed no surprise at having seen him. Though she looked young, he could tell she was very smart.
''Welcome Sir. I trust you slept well. If you wish to smoke then please follow me.'' She spoke with a gentle smile and soothing eyes.
Without waiting for a confirmation she started walking down the hallway and he started following her. She led him down a flight of spiraled stairs, covered by a deep red carpet and through a door immediately to the right.
This room was all white with touches of light blue and green here and there. A large table was placed at the center of the room with ten chairs arranged around it. White vases filled with dazzling arrangements of blue flowers decorated the snow-white table cloth. Looking up he saw a huge chandelier above the table, catching the light of the sun and projecting little pools of light green specs around him.
The maid walked to the end of this room behind the table and stopped in front of a large door. It was made mostly of glass and covered the entire width of the wall. She opened it and continued to descend down another short flight of stairs.
Christophe breathed in the fresh air. Judging by the light he figured it was about mid-afternoon. He looked at the sky and when he directed his gaze back to the maid his previously inhaled breath nearly choked him.
She had led him to a garden. Flowers of all sorts spun their way around delicate metal poles. All sorts of sweet scents were emitted. The Mole looked around him and gazed at stretches of land as far as the eye could see. The garden seemed endless but on top of that there were also what looked like plains of infinite grass on the horizon.
He kept following the maid deeper into the gardens and she stopped at a gazebo. The wood was painted bright red and stood out against the white roses that clothed it. Looking back he could see the house, no wait, mansion. This guy had more money in one room than he had had in his entire life put together...
''Please take your time and enjoy the view if you wish. When you wish to go back, or are in need of any assistance please don't hesitate to call my name, Crystal. I will without doubt come to your aid. Have a nice stay.''
''Z-Zank you…'' That was all he managed to say before she was once more out of sight and he was left alone with his thoughts. He lighted his cigarette and indulged himself in the much awaited sensation. It felt good. The smoke wand up and left trails of grey serpents around him.
It soothed him. This was him. He was nothing like Gregory. If Gregory was a sweet smelling rose, he was the bitter smell of tobacco. It was foolish for him to still care for him, to still hope. This love of his had caused him nothing but pain, and Gregory had never indicated he harbored any sort of feelings for him. In the end he was the only one feeling this way. Still...
12 cigarettes later, he was feeling himself again. He had calmed down and assessed the situation. Gregory didn't seem to be home, or maybe he was avoiding him. In fact he still didn't know for certain that this was indeed Gregory he was talking about. Either way he had no intention of seeing him. He couldn't bear to see him.
It had taken all his strength to leave and get away from him, and now here he was again being forced to do the same thing again. If he saw him, he knew his resolve would crumble like a sand castle under the onslaught of angry waves.
He would go back, find his things and be gone by the end of the day. He felt bad about doing this, after all the stranger had done for him, but he had to. He didn't wish to seem ungrateful, far from it, but Gregory would understand. Or so he reasoned and hoped.
''Crystal?...'' He called the name in a faint voice. Nothing happened. Maybe he should raise the volume so she could hear him? He opened his mouth to shout it.
''Yes?'' He nearly jumped out of his skin and his heart was in his mouth. He spun around to see her standing there smiling and calm, just as before. Had she been waiting there?!
''Shit! You scared me.''
''My apologies Sir.''
''No it's fine! I just wanted to ask you zomething. Who iz in charge here?''
''The master wishes to remain anonymous to you for the time being but he instructed me to show you something should you ask this question.''
Whatever it was, he hadn't been expecting that. However Crystal didn't give him much time to think and she made her way once more through the gardens. He followed, intrigued.
This time they made their way behind the mansion. In what could be called the back yard, only it was more like the back park. As opposed to the front it wasn't covered in gardens. It was green fields mostly. Right next to the house was a pool of sand which is where Crystal came to a stop.
The Mole followed her gaze and his heart skipped a beat. His most important possession was in front of him. His shovel was implanted in the sand. He wanted to reach for it but his legs refused to move. He recognized this sensation.
Around the shovel was a thick, black chain. He traced it with his eyes and, sure enough, it was connected to the collar of a dog. Well, dog didn't seem to be an appropriate name of this thing. Monster suited him better.
Even if he hadn't been petrified by his phobia of canines he still wouldn't have faced the huge animal. It was a German Shepard with teeth the size of his fingers, of at least that's how he saw it.
He traced the shovel with his eyes again, lingering and noticed something. At the base of the tool was one single orange rose. All his suspicions had been confirmed. It was Gregory.
And now he had to face him. There was no way he could leave without the shovel, and there was no way he could get it himself. Once more, Gregory had proven that he was one step ahead of the game.
''Where iz he?'' He was surprised at the sound of his own voice. A little above a whisper and cracking, like he was about to burst into tears of frustration.
''The master has stepped out for a while, but he should be back by evening. Until then he wishes for you to wait for him in your room, after you have eaten of course.''
He only nodded in acknowledgement, unable to tear his eyes from the thorny rose.
The food had been just as extravagant as the rest of the place and it had been delicious too. He ate because his body needed the nourishment to recover, but his mind was elsewhere. He didn't savour it properly and all he could remember was the taste of ash in his mouth.
He was seated on the bed staring intently at the door as if that would make his host materialize out of thin air. He dreaded the encounter. What would he say? What could he say? This whole situation seemed beyond helpless. Now he wished he had just been forgotten on that dark alley with his good companions, the rats.
Crystal said evening. It was now evening. Gregory would be home any second. The ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the room, and it seemed defining. Each second that passed seemed to be his last.
His ears tensed as he heard new sounds. There seemed to be some sort of activity going on downstairs. He could hear voices. He thought he heard a male voice. He dared not move or even breathe.
The voices seemed to melt away and a new sound replaced them. It was barely audible at first but it increased as it got closer. The sound of approaching footsteps. His memory drifted for a second back to the night he had nearly died and he remembered the sound of the footsteps then. There was a sort of resonance between the two.
However while the past set had been hurried and made splashing noises as they hit the puddled of water, those were calm, calculating and soft as they hit the warm carpet. The steps were just outside his door and there they stopped. Nothing happened for a while.
Christophe's heart had never worked so furiously. A bead of sweat rolled down his exposed, tanned neck. He heard the click of the door handle as it was turned and the door was pushed back.
He couldn't move or speak so he just sat on the bed and continued to fix his eyes on the man who stood in the doorway. Gregory stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him. He also just stood there and stared at the other man.
The Mole's questions were answered. Gregory was just as charming and flawless looking. His blond hair was gelled back as opposed to his own stray strands. His eyes were penetrating and blue and his skin was of the purest white. He looked delicate but there was also something strong and manly about him. He was wearing black suit trousers and a bright orange shirt. His tie matched the trousers. His feet were bare.
No words were said. No moves were made. Time seemed to stop. Gregory was the first to break the frozen portrait. He took a step then another, loosening his tie as he moved and discarding it on the floor. When he was in front of the other he reached his hand and pushed Christophe gently on the bed.
He was too dazed to react so he let Gregory take control. He swallowed loudly feeling like he could drown in the other's gaze. His mouth was slightly parted and ragged breaths came out. No doubt, his desire was obvious.
Gregory took a second to study the man before him. He was very pleased with the sight. He too had wondered how The Mole would look as a grown up, and though he had seen him unconscious before, that was nothing compared to the sight before him. He traced Christophe's lips with his fingers, relishing the subdued reactions he received in response.
Without warning he bent down and kissed him passionately. He put all the years of yearning into this one joining of lips. Gregory ravished his mouth and let his tongue wander and explore.
Christophe had no reaction ready for this. He had never felt anything like it before and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes opened or his mind from going blank. When Gregory pulled back it was only for a second, only so he could discard his shirt.
The Mole couldn't believe his eyes. He had to touch to make sure it wasn't just a sweet dream and in reality he was still on that alleyway waiting to die. That would be too cruel, even for god. He reached his hand and pressed it against Gregory's white chest. He let it trail over the erect nipples and downwards to the nicely shaped abs, pausing at the belly button.
Gregory patiently waited, enjoying the feel of the other hands across his skin. When Cristophe seemed to be content Gregory once more kissed him and this time he didn't pull away. Instead he used his tongue to trace the shape of the older man's jaw and descend to the exposed neck.
The neck skin was very sensitive and Gregory seemed to have prior knowledge of that. He knew how to make a man feel good. A soft bite was all it took for Christophe to moan and Gregory easily deduced he wasn't used to this. He had to be gentle, or else he might break him, though he wanted nothing more than to fuck him right then and there.
From the neck he moved to the torso. Long, seductive licks. The older man winced in pain and Gregory had to remember that he was still healing. He didn't spent much time on the chest and stomach since it was mostly covered in bruises.
Instead, he hooked his fingers in the lining of the trousers and tugged rapidly, not giving The Mole an opportunity to fight back, not that he would have. Gregory sat back up so he could properly pull the clothing off and throw it away.
The only things left on Christophe were the blue shirt and a thin silver chain that had been with him since he had woken up. Gregory's heart leaped at the sight. The other man's expression portrayed lust and hunger. He wanted him.
After another quick kiss, Gregory stretched over to the night table, beside the bed, and pulled open a drawer. He took a small bottle out of it and opened it, letting the content spill over his hand and especially his fingers.
Christophe was watching him intently, guessing what came next and waiting eagerly. Gregory used his other hand to part Christophe's legs, and started massaging his entrance with the slick substance.
The older man couldn't stop moaning and he yearned for Gregory to hurry up. Pain wasn't a problem, he was used to it. He nearly voiced his thoughts when he felt a finger enter him and another noise came out instead of words.
Gregory moved it slowly, testing the walls as if searching for something. Then he increased the speed and added a second finger. He saw The Mole tense and remembered he wasn't used to it. Two fingers weren't enough though, so he resolved to take the other's mind off of the pain with something else.
His free hand enclosed the neglected erection and squeezed the shaft just hard enough to make the other man scream, though not from pain. He moved along the length in union with his other fingers, making Christophe go wild.
When the third finger was added it wan't even notice. The Mole was too far gone, panting and whining to care if he died. He never felt so good in his entire life. He arched his back and gripping the sheets of the bed like he was clinging for dear life.
Gregory withdrew both his hands and Christophe slumped on the bed, panting heavily. His rest was short though, only the time it took Gregory to unzip his own trousers. The Mole felt his legs being lifted and he saw Gregory hoisting them over his shoulders for better access.
Then he was in. A shrill gasp escaped The Mole's lips as he felt the full length penetrating him. It was such a strange sensation, slightly painful but also incredibly filling. When Gregory started moving it was impossible for him to keep quiet. His moans got louder and kept coming out one after the other, matching the thrusts, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.
Gregory was panting too and he was mesmerized by his partner. In his wildest dreams he couldn't have imagined Christophe could look and sound so damn sexy. His desires intensified and he thrust harder into the other.
Christophe reached out and wrapped his arms around Gregory's neck and shoulders, pulling him closer, craning his neck up for a kiss. That was enough to push the mercenary over the edge. He made a noise like none before and he arched himself once more, pushing against Gregory. The orgasm took everything out of him and he fell on the bed, feeling Gregory's seed warm inside him.
Both panted heavily, stretched on the bed, exhausted by the act. When their hearts stopped beating wildly and they could breathe normally once more, an absolute silence descended on the room. Gregory prompted himself on his elbows eager to have another look at his long lost lover.
The mercenary had his eyes closed but he opened them shortly after and he sat up, refusing to meet the other's searching eyes. Gregory followed suit and waited patiently for the other to acknowledge him.
Thoughts swarmed in The Mole's head. He kept telling himself that this couldn't have just happened. What did this mean? His love for Gregory intensified and was so powerful it felt like a blow to the back of his head. Why was god so fucking cruel? There was no way he could leave now... It would hurt too much.
From the corner of his eyes he saw Gregory get closer, his expression was puzzled. The blonde reached a hand and stroked his cheek gently. It felt moist. Christophe stared back at Gregory only then realizing that he was crying.
But once he started he couldn't stop. He cried because of the pain he had gone through, because of Gregory, because of leaving him, because he loved him. He cried because he wished from the bottom of his heart for Gregory to love him back, and only him. He couldn't stop.
Gregory wiped away all of the tears patiently and calmly. Christophe cried until he had no more tears and he felt his eyelids becoming heavy. He felt himself fall and then stop, caught by something or someone. He felt his head being laid gently on the pillow and the satin sheet being stretched over him. Finally he felt Gregory lying next to him, the warmth of his body overwhelming.
The last thing he remembered before he drifted into dream-land was the sweet and bitter fragrance of roses and tobacco.
When he woke up the next day Christophe found himself alone once more. He got out of bed, his body protesting with stabs of pain thrown directly at his hips and back. He was clean and his trousers were once more covering him. One quick glance at the window and he realized it wasn't morning but the middle of the afternoon. Everything seemed upside down.
Something on the desk was reflecting the light of the warm sun. He strolled over and found his shovel and his own clothes, washed and cleaned, neatly piled with another packet of his favorite cigarettes. He stared at the bundle before he cursed under his breath and grabbed his clothes. It felt good to slip on his own garments, like a familiar second skin. He felt just a little bit in control.
As soon as he opened the door Crystal popped into his line of sight, making Christophe wonder if maybe he was having a deja-vu moment. She assured him the master had only stepped out for a bit, about two hours before he woke up. He ate while he reassessed his situation. The thing he had to do was clear. And he intended to do it. He had every intention of leaving. One way or another.
Gregory returned only during the evening. As usual Crystal was there to greet him. She told him his companion had left after he had eaten and that he thanked him deeply. Gregory kept his cool and in his own turn thanked Crystal, asking to be left alone.
He made his way back to the room, unwilling to accept that once more he had vanished without trace. He pushed the door open and found it...empty. The only thing left on the desk was an orange rose and a packet of cigarettes.
His heart felt like it was full of led, sinking with dread. All those years he had spent searching for The Mole only to find him nearly dead and then lose him again. He started to believe that indeed god was just a prick like Christophe constantly claimed.
The memory of the previous night washed over him and he could still recall his voice, his smell, his warmth and touch. Why did he have to go?
With heavy steps he made his way to the window. He had a perfect view of the back yard from where he was standing. He looked over the large stretch of land he owned and wondered, what was the point of being rich if he was unhappy?
His gaze moved to where the shovel had been guarded by his faithful dog, Cesar. Maybe he should have just left it there. That way The Mole wouldn't have left, but he would have been a prisoner and that was not the sort of love Gregory wanted.
His thoughts were disturbed by a strange sight. There seemed to be a large hole in the sand just out of Cesar's reach. He looked at it with puzzlement for a moment until it hit him.
Not daring to hope, he rushed out the room, down the stairs and into the open air. He ran to the back of the house where he was greeted by Cesar's happy barks. Gregory gave him an affectionate pat but his eyes were glued to the hole. He could hear digging. There was only one man who loved digging holes...
He looked into the hole and whistled in surprise. The depression was about 20 meters down and wide enough to fit three people. The Mole had been at it since the afternoon and he was still digging contently, like this was his vocation.
''What are you doing?'' The Mole interrupted his work to look up at Gregory.
''What'z it look like? I'm digging a hole.''
''I can see that. But why?''
''If you want to know get down here.''
Under normal circumstances he would have been reluctant to dirty himself with mud, especially since his clothes were probably more expensive than Christophe's apartment. Today wasn't a normal circumstance and he hopped into the hole without a second's hesitation.
The space allowed for very little space between the two. They stood facing each other and Gregory realized this was the first time they had spoken to each other since they were young. Since South Park. That's when it all went to hell...
''So...why are you digging this hole?''
''I plan on uzing it as my grave.'' Gregory didn't have a clue of what to say to THAT. He regarded Christophe with open scepticism but it looked like he was serious.
''Why?...'' Christophe was silent for a moment but his eyes looked so sad Gregory felt his heart breaking.
''Because I can never be with ze man I love.'' Gregory's expression shifted to pure shock. Has Christophe confessed to him? Had he said the L word? Why couldn't they be together?
''Why not?'' The Mole's expression clouded. He was exasperated by how blind Gregory could be, and how cruel.
''Because you don't love me! Do you remember Zouth Park? Do you remember Wendy and ze ztupid La Resistance? Because I haven't forgotten!'' Gregory was at a complete loss of words. He hadn't thought of that as the connection. But now it all made sense. The Mole had felt betrayed when he had chosen Wendy instead of him and that's why he left?
''Is that why you left? Because of Wendy?'' Christophe turned his back on him but Gregory guessed he was sulking. It was so silly that Gregory felt like bursting into laughter, but he helped himself, barely. He didn't want the other to get any angrier.
He gently turned him around so they were facing each other once more. Christophe refused to look him in the eye and Gregory had guessed right. He was sulking.
''Wendy meant nothing to me. You're the only one I care for.''
''No you don't. How many have you been with after?'' Gregory didn't answer. It was true that he had had a lot of partners after, both females and males, but none had felt right and Gregory know it was because he had always seen them as temporary replacements.
''Well what about you?'' Christophe finally looked him square in the eyes and spoke in such a low voice Gregory had to strain himself to hear even though they were so close.
''None….'' Gregory opened his mouth to say something but instead it just hung there. He had realized the mercenary was inexperienced but he hadn't anticipated that...
''You're a virgin?''
''Not anymore…'' His face was becoming redder and redder and Gregory thought he was too damn cute. The furious blush suited his tanned skin and dark brown eyes.
Without any other warning Gregory closed the short distance between them and locked their lips together. The Mole didn't fight him. Every time Gregory touched him, he felt like he was melting and his whole body just froze. When the kiss ended Gregory whispered in his ear, his hands firmly gripping the other's hips.
''I love you. I always did and always will.''
Gregory didn't give him a chance to react and he scurried back out the confining space. Christophe followed suit, but by the time he was back out he could just make out Gregory's shape disappearing behind the house corner. He hurried after and saw the other waiting at the door.
''Where are you going?'' he asked.
''All that dirt made me want a shower. Join me.'' It wasn't a request. It was an order and Gregory had a sly smile playing on his lips. The Mole smirked and for once he actually felt like god wasn't such a huge prick after all...
Once past the glass door he noticed three suitcases resting against the wall. They looked familiar. They were his! He stared at them in wonderment. Is this where Gregory had been that morning? How did he know where he lived?...
''Yes, the master discovered your humble home while he was searching for you but you had already left for a job. That is how he was able to reach you in your hour of need.''
Christophe almost died again, of fright. Crystal was standing behind him in her usual manner and somehow it seemed she had read his mind. She left and the only sound was that of his overworking heart.
He suppressed a sigh of exasperation but also an adoring smile. It seemed like once more Gregory had been one step ahead of the game.
Thank you very much for the read! ^.^ I hope you enjoyed! And once more, please let me know what you think! There's never enough reviews...