The Lightning Arc - Sidestories - SPRING
Inspired by the wonderful Karina and her keyword challenges. Just when I thought I was done with fanfiction. Thank you!
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Universe: GW AC
Characters: Zechs, Treize
Warnings: M for close encounter and male/male affection.
Summary: Treize catches on to Zechs having a dark moment.
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A glass with vodka in one hand, his elbow propped into the palm of the other, Zechs stood by the French doors to the veranda of the drawing room. His white shirt was unbuttoned, the belt of his smart grey slacks loosened, and he was barefoot. On the tiled hearth between a pair of heavy leather chairs, the fire flickered wanly, smoke and sooty sparks drawn up into the chimney by gusts of wind.
Treize, in nothing but blue striped pyjama bottoms, leaned against him from behind and reached for the glass. Instead of letting him take it, Zechs held fast. A small sigh, Treize's bare chest heaving against Zechs' broad back, and then Treize gently combed through mussed bangs of silverblond. "Too much," he said quietly, his lips moving against the warm pulse at the side of Zechs' neck. "You're drinking too much, my friend."
"Drives away the cobwebs." A small, strained laugh, a shrug, pale eyes hiding behind the fall of Zechs' impossibly long hair..
"Cobwebs?" Treize's lips wandered, suckling and wetting, a hungry trail on downy skin. A kiss, a nip, the scrape of immaculate teeth over damp heat, while his fingers wove into Zechs' grip. "Is that why you came down here? Were you having a bad night?"
"I didn't want to wake you."
"You were fidgeting too much."
In the corners of the room sat shadows, thick, cool darkness, while the window panes rattled and the heavy curtains swayed sluggishly in the draught that pressed through the frames. A shiver of goosebumps ran over Zechs' sweat-damp skin. "You can't rescue me from everything," he growled, tensing against Treize's muscled form.
"No." Treize caught a fistful of pale hair and began to stealthily wrap it around his fingers. "Not from deadlines, or fairytale elves, or the tradition of having roast rabbit for Easter..."
Zechs smirked. "Weird. Stewed Easter bunny... man, Treize, your family..."
A wry smile crossed Treize's pale features and made the smattering of freckles on his nose dance even as his eyes narrowed. He closed his fist and tugged, hard. "You WILL eat with us tomorrow, won't you?"
Zechs pulled back with a groan. "Let go." He raised the glass; Treize used the moment of distraction to seize it and down its contents, then let himself be tackled onto the long dining table in the centre of the room. Zechs caught Treize's wrists in one hand and yanked them over his head. One knee between Treize's legs, he hovered over him, meeting his fierce gaze with a heated glare of his own. "You," Zechs snarled softly.
The glass rolled over the polished wood with a low ring, slowing to a swaying halt just by the edge.
Zechs slipped his hand between their bellies, and down to where he wanted it, satisfied at the hiss and the sudden press of flesh to flesh, Treize's hips rising into his firm touch. His gaze grew hooded as he watched Treize's expression through white lashes, and a vague smile played over his lips. It was not gentle, and Treize, his face flushing as Zechs' fingers cupped him, could not bite back a small gasp. "Now what," Zechs hissed as he kneaded and massaged, "what about your resolution, hm? Are we falling ? Losing the contest?"
"I... ahhh... didn't know we had one," Treize bit out, sweat beginning to sheen his features.
"Ah, c'mon, Tre, we always do."
A breathless laughter that did not match the flash of anger in sharp blue eyes, Treize seizing up and moving too fast for Zechs to react - he found himself on his back on the floor before he could yelp, the air knocked from his lungs with a deep oomph by the impact of his and Treize's weight. Treize scooted back and swallowed him to the root even as he caught his fists mid-air to pin them against the waxed floorboards, with a painful bang of knuckles against wood.
Zechs squirmed as Treize rode him, heat and passion raged through him like a firestorm, to knot deep in his belly, roiling there until it spiked in a blast of white-hot release. His head thrashing, he bit his lips to lock in the scream, the sobs, the tears, everything that had threatened to overwhelm him since the morning of that longest day in his life. The anniversary of the death of Cinqu. The memories that coursed through his dreams, a black swell of hatred and helpless agony, of loss and never-ending grief.
Treize came up to kiss him deeply, with a tenderness that surprised him. It was strange, in a way, to taste his own flavour on Treize's lips while the aftershocks of his climax shuddered through him in ebbing waves, and when he sagged at last, all tension melting from his limbs, Treize gathered him up into a firm embrace.
Cradling him to murmur soothing nonsense into his ear, against his cheek, into his mouth while he held him, heartbeat to heartbeat, and he could feel the pulse of life in Treize, the same inexhaustible energy that seemed to fuel his passions and hates, his plans and grand schemes, his love...
"Miliusha... ah, Miliusha moy." Treize's voice was a husky whisper against Zechs' temple; his embrace tightened a bit more until it became almost stifling, before he let go reluctantly. He rose smoothly, ignoring the want of his body, and bent to take Zechs' hand. "Come," another slow kiss to Zechs' brow, "let's go for some air... spring is early this year, the park is turning green already... it would be nice to watch the sun rise."
Dawn began to seep over the sky in the East, low over the black mass of the forest.
"You-" Zechs cleared his throat and glanced up, steel-blue meeting brilliant blue, the familiar shade of melancholy in Treize's eyes and a smile on his lips. The kind he reserved for Zechs, allowing a rare glimpse of concern and warmth. "You'll catch a cold if you go like this," Zechs murmured hoarsely as he let himself be drawn up against Treize's solid form.
"Then let's get dressed."
The blackness had passed.
Wrapped up warmly, they wandered outside into the park, where the shadows lingered under the lacework of trees and budding leaves. Their feet left dark tracks in the frost-shimmering grass of the meadow that stretched from the manor to the edge of the woods, and the chill of dawn crept through their clothes. Zechs drew a deep, slow breath and let it go in a plume of white as he leaned lightly against Treize's shorter frame.
To feel him move. To make sure he was there, real, warm, as true as ever.
A shimmer of light began to colour the horizon a pale hue of gold.
And Treize, tilting back his head, laid his arm around Zechs' back and watched, a distant smile on his lips, as the sun spilled over into dawn, to fill their eyes with light.
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THE END