Fifteen 100-word drabbles of a sexual nature concerning Tieria and Setsuna.

Scenes take place in an AU second season, as this was written before it began. Written in third person present progressive ("Tieria scowls") and switched to third person ("Tieria scowled") when speaking of the past, and told from Tieria's perspective.

The themes are from the LJ comm centi_porn.


Explanation of #11 (originally #7): The Hellenic (ancient Greek period) version of Narcissus is this— Ameinias, a young man, loved Narcissus but was scorned. As a way of rebuffing Ameinias, Narcissus gave him a sword, which Ameinias used to kill himself on Narcissus' doorstep; he prayed to Nemesis that Narcissus would one day know the pain of unrequited love. This curse was fulfilled when Narcissus became entranced by his own reflection in a pool. He only realised that it was his reflection after trying to kiss it. Completing the symmetry of the tale, out of sorrow Narcissus took his sword and killed himself; his body then turned into a flower. [Source, Wikipedia]


KOUKI NA GOUON


01. Balance

Setsuna used to be the one spread out on the bed; stomach clammy and wallowed, breaths thin and sheets clutched to suppress the moans from his wet lips as he was rammed into over and over. Tieria's insides would often twist in disgust at how proficient the boy was at being subservient—he'd be disgusted at his own welling pleasure, nails cutting into the boy's thighs, or the back of his shoulders.

Setsuna's still spread out, though larger, stronger.

But Tieria wraps his hand around the man's cock; presses lips against those shoulders; murmurs nothing into his nape. He knows why.


02. Aware

Setsuna's voice is still quiet, serious. Despite it, Tieria knows he's grown.

His appearance seems wilder, though his reserve is greatly tamed. Tieria's gaze slowly rakes the man's frame, from the thighs, to the face, and instinctively, a hand reaches out, brushing a stray curl by Setsuna's ear.

It is then Setsuna turns to him. The rims of his irises are smoldering in amber.

"Tieria…"

Setsuna has grown. Despite it, his voice is still quiet, serious.

Tieria pushes him onto the bed, and decides he will soothe the man with his own change, just as his voice soothes Tieria.


03. "Wait!"

Setsuna does not listen. He bites the shell of Tieria's ear, allows a hand to caress a place he shouldn't be touching.

It is the latter for which Tieria sputters out an indignant noise (better coined as "squeaks," but Tieria would rather bathe his hands in red murder).

"Tieria?" Allelujah calls out his name, but several in the crew have turned to glance behind them, puzzled to find the young man flushed in the face; Setsuna's already slipped ahead of the others into the next room.

"N-nothing!" And he somehow manages to stalk in space, swearing reprisal under his breath.


04. Vertigo

The boy was feverous that day. Christina checked up on him the most (an inborn motherly complex). Sumeragi came in nearly as often, but was the most anxious. Allelujah brought the boy ice cream, for which Lockon lightly rapped his head in disbelief. Lockon was the warmest visitor, and cruised by frequently.

Tieria could care less. But a little after Lockon's sixth visit, he too decided to stop in as the man grazed by him.

He'd observed that Setsuna paid little attention to his guests.

Setsuna wouldn't stop staring at him.

A few days later, Tieria put… intimacy into practice.


05. Rhythm

Tieria is familiar with the waltz. But he certainly is not familiar with dance in the Middle East.

He is not familiar with the beating of feet against the floor, the sway of hips and the movement of body. He is not familiar with the quick paces in seemingly haphazard spaces, not familiar with the heated brush of bodies that causes all the pulsation in his body to wrangle in his breast.

And Tieria is not familiar with sexual dances, managing to pin him to the bed, but hidden from even the moon's gaze, he is willing to learn it.


06. Shift

Setsuna is half out of his flight suit, and the salt of his sweat is still shone on his skin. He's aware of Tieria's gaze on his shifting muscles, but does not give him a glance. He watches the shadows of the young man's movement, and barely twitches when Tieria bows over his neckline, eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering, a gloved hand caressing the tea-stroked skin.

Soon, the young man's pink mouth is suckling that sensitive flesh above the depression of his collar. Setsuna's own lips part.

They are quiet, and the heated strokes from skin to skin will be enough.


07. Transparent [SetsuTie, but also TieAlleSetsu ]

Icy water blasting from the showerhead, Tieria's hands clutch at the slippery surface of the glass door as he is taken from behind. The glass fogs from the coldness; still, through it, he can see another figure in the bathroom as droplets start to stream down; Allelujah stares back at them, both gold and silver irises glinting amusedly.

"Aah!" he cries out a bit more—Setsuna is pounding into him harshly, anyhow.

Panting, Tieria opens his eyes to observe Allelujah again, before grasping who the man is watching.

Then Tieria Erde jolts up in bed, fuming at the woken Setsuna.


08. Few

There are the stars in the expanding universe surrounding the ship, and then there is the two of them. They watch those stars quietly from the bay window; have locked the entryway behind them.

Tieria wonders if the crew imagines them as mismatched. Purple only comes from a tinge of blue, he can already hear the doctor mentioning.

But as he is taken against the wall by Setsuna—both still in their uniform—his mind concentrates, goes blank.

Could the explosion of an olden white dwarf star truly be as magnificent as the escalation of his orgasm before its peak?


09. Breath

Setsuna looks the most vulnerable when Tieria's tongue and mouth are on his cock. His gaze, intent on him, is embarrassed; his lips are parted, licked often; his breath is harsh, shaky.

Tieria runs his tongue along a bulging vein and sucks at that particular place along its otherwise smooth ascendency; a strangled noise spills from Setsuna's lips, and Tieria looks up too quickly. Setsuna immediately looks away, face flushed a dark color.

Tieria smirks against the man's cock, eyes fixed on Setsuna as he continues to please. Setsuna finally yields, rose-colored, yet staring.

He doesn't realize his own sensuousness.


10. Again

Setsuna's arid, callused hands do sumptuous wonders to Tieria's intensely knotted back. They are tender, but dig deep in the most aching arches, know the points that are needy, begging. Tieria's breaths are composed of shudders; as in sex, he tries to withhold any noise, but cannot refrain from every gasp.

"There."

"Here?" Setsuna teases, already knows.

He can feel Setsuna, just above the hips. And although they are not oft to engage in foreplay, Tieria's already decided that he doesn't mind allowing this game to be prolonged.


11. Reflection [Who'd want an ex like Veda?]

"Do you notice my blood pooling on your steps, Narcissus?" he remarks dryly to the man by the mirror.

Setsuna turns, giving him a maddening smirk that a man who would spin-kick a large-breasted girl away should not be allowed to possess (was that how it happened, or is his mind being liberal again?).

"Is it my fault that all my suitors are fetishists like you, Ameinias?"

"So we like to have sex with someone other than ourselves," Tieria deadpans, pressing his lips against Setsuna's.

"So I'm Ameinias," Setsuna taunts.

Tieria gropes him; twists too roughly.

"No forgiveness," he growls.


12. Crave

The inside of Setsuna's thighs is sticky beneath the covers, but their legs are still tangled languidly between one another, Tieria's body pressed against the man's back.

Setsuna has found a grip on Tieria's hand. Tieria hears those dark lips part before the man speaks, tentatively:

"What do you… want, Tieria?"

Tieria does not answer. He burrows his head further over Setsuna's shoulder, slides another hand to clasp the young man's wrist, and turns the question on Setsuna.

Setsuna only grips Tieria's hand tighter.


13. Inverse

There is a change about the Setsuna and Tieria, not entirely subtle. Both their ideologies have broken, and in turn, one has come out stronger, the other more shaken.

Tieria senses the twist in their relationship. He can reminisce a time when Setsuna, quietly, would brush up behind him; grip his upper arm, and tip-toe just a bit closer, allowing suspended orchid strands to caress his cheek. Setsuna, and his fierce resolve.

These days, it is Tieria who slips to Setsuna's door, presses kisses upon expectant lips. He minds only a little: Setsuna's apologetic frame beneath him is lovely enough.


14. Fleeting

Often, they do not meet after the mission, but before. After all, Setsuna has no God in this universe. But inside, he is still that boy—still scornful—still afraid of a man. And so the man holds the influence, the pressure, and the judgment greater than any God.

Once, Tieria had a God. He was abandoned, for nothing better than a sickness, through exploitation.

Now, he finds one in a young man's skin, sculpted from sands and forgotten papers—creased entirely, with its ink washed out; the colors are long lost to a mind that cannot bear to reminisce.


15. Constant

Setsuna is not constancy; he has never been.

The truth, somehow, is clearest only now, despite Tieria's barraging, callous judgment of the boy four years past. Clarity is the drizzle against their skin, and in spite of it, Tieria is spread on the dirt, bucked against the parting of Setsuna's knees, crying out as the man enters him.

Tieria can hear Setsuna's grunts over the thunder; his cries sore the throat, regardless of restraint. At some point, he's pulled from the dirt, and those grunts tickle the ear.

Wryly, he wonders on stability, before they come together, shuddering and chilled.


END


On #3: I took the liberty to change "Wait" into an exclamation to fit the idea.

Writing #8 (though originally #13) had me persistently thinking, "Probably, Tieria! x'D "

... And. Well. For someone as wordy as I am, the limit of only a 100 words or less was wondrous practice.

Your opinions on the pieces are welcome.