A Means to an End
Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne so just let me enjoy this crack!ship in peace.
NOTE: I don't even know how this started but I just decided to ship older Merle and Dilandau in a very, ahem, mature way. I have a couple more chapters planned so this is not a one-shot. I started putting it down in words and it became long and started to have some sort of plot, so I decided to throw caution to the winds and just post my first smut fic. Having said that, please do not expect much quality from this first attempt and just enjoy the madness. Do not hesitate to share your feedback though. Also, happy birthday, Dilandau! (Though I doubt he'd be pleased about this.)
A BRIEF NOTE ON THE SETUP: I won't go into great detail about the circumstances surrounding the events in the story but there are a few essential details I need to mention for the story to make sense so please bear with me. It's about four years after the war. Hitomi's back for good so she and Van are together in Fanelia. Van has also reconciled with Folken, who is alive and well. He and Princess Eries are married and living as political representatives in what used to be Zaibach territory. Dilandau has been successfully separated from Celena so he has his own body now, with memories intact but rage and bloodlust significantly diminished. He has adjusted to living again though it has been a difficult journey. Since his presence still makes many political leaders uneasy, Dilandau decides to stay with Folken and Eries for the time being. Merle is also their guest and that's where the story begins.
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Lately, her nights are so cold.
Merle realizes that this is part of growing up. After more reflection, she discovers and accepts that she sees Lord Van as a brother and nothing else. She is happy for him now that Hitomi has returned but she has been feeling a little out of place in Fanelia so she takes this trip. She accepts Lord Folken and Lady Eries' invitation to stay at their reasonably large estate in what is former Zaibach territory but is currently an area that the Allied countries have joint jurisdiction over. It is practically neutral ground, the perfect refuge. She feels welcome in their company and they allow her enough freedom to wander around on her own. They see and understand that she needs time to think and to figure things out on her own.
She has to clear her head. There are some new urges she is learning to cope with. She is lonely and she longs to be wanted by someone. Her own body constantly reminds her of this primal need. She is in heat so often these days and she spends her nights trying to imagine and achieve a passion that can consume her and leave her shaking with pleasure. But she is never satisfied so she tries not to dwell on her disappointment.
She has been staying at the estate for several days when another guest arrives, a face from the past. Dilandau Albatou. She remembers him well although it has been a long time since she last saw him and so much has already changed. He seems to recognize her too although she cannot be sure. When Folken presents them to each other, Dilandau simply nods in acknowledgment. Already that is more courtesy than she expects from him. It doesn't matter. The estate is reasonably large enough that their paths need not cross at all during their stay.
But a few nights later, she stumbles upon him training in the moonlight. He practices with a wooden sword, all that is allowed to him for now. His movements are graceful but lethal. He has not been in a fight for some time but his body remembers what to do. She watches him in fascination but she runs away before he notices her presence.
Alone in her room, she touches herself as she usually does, struggling to reach the heights of pleasure that she wants so desperately. But certain images flash through her mind in the midst of her ministrations: slender limbs moving in the moonlight, silver hair blowing in the wind, pale skin glistening with sweat, crimson eyes gleaming with concentration.
"Why am I thinking of him? Of all people, why him and why now? I must be more desperate than I thought."
But she cannot shun the images from her mind, no matter how hard she tries. Something in her keeps them there. And to her surprise, they … help.
She imagines all sorts of impossible things, his pale skin against hers, the touch of his strong hands around her, caressing her until she burns, his face close to hers, so close, his lips moving along her neck, nipping and licking and sucking, and.. oh..
These thoughts push her over the edge, much faster and with greater intensity than she has ever done before.
She didn't know an act could be simultaneously mortifying and satisfying.
She wants him. And she cannot fight it. So she blushes at this new revelation.
It is physical attraction, nothing else, she keeps telling herself, and even that is disturbing enough. But how can it be anything else? He is but a means to an end, nothing more.
She must not let it distract her during the day. She must not let HIM distract her. He must never suspect. No one can know of this.
She spends her nights watching him train before running back to her room and using the images of him, still so fresh in her memory, to bring her to completion. She moans and sighs and purrs with pleasure and it is only after her pulse steadies and her breath becomes normal again that she considers the complications of her desire. She still questions herself. How can she want him after all he has done?
What surprises her the most, in spite of everything, is how easy it is - to want him. While it is true that a lot of time has passed since the war ended bringing about a great many changes, and she concedes that he is one of the people who has changed the most, she cannot help but be wary. He is taller now and his shoulders have grown broader but he still maintained his lean, muscular figure. He has also calmed down now that the war was over and on the whole, he seems more balanced. There is an energy that radiates off of him most of the time though now it is no longer based on rage or destruction. But he is still fire. And how she wants to burn.
He is dangerous. This is dangerous. And it ought to end sooner rather than later. But she does not want it to end. Not yet. Not when it feels so good. She hates herself for it but she cannot, will not, let it go. Surely, this is temporary, a passing fancy. She will simply enjoy it while it lasts. He need never know she even thinks of him at all.