Kokoro no Hanashi
(see disclaimer in the Prelude)
The abandoned streets of Ivalice echoed with faint footsteps.
Tightly clutching each other's hands, Kiri and Kumo had been wandering the empty city for over an hour already while Kiri related his journey to find his little brother in hushed whispers. Kumo simply listened, his eyes never straying from his brother's face, his tiny smile ever-present as he took in every word, every gesture, reveling in the soft wonder that it had all been done for him.
At last, Kiri seemed to run out of words. He turned his crimson eyes towards the darkening sky and faltered, halting their walk and wetting his lips but finding himself unable to continue.
He'd fallen short just when he was about to explain the one thing he'd omitted in his story.
Kara.
Finally, he just burst out, his pale cheeks flaming in the same rose tones that the sun's last rays brought out in his long hair. "That woman… she… I told you before, how she drugged me and hid me from the others."
Kumo nodded gently, the smile still in place though a strange sorrow had settled into his eyes.
Kiri bit his lip, but forced himself on. "She just… I… it was…" Panic wove through his heart, followed by despair. How could he possibly explain to Kumo what had happened to him? "S-she… I-I couldn't… I couldn't do anything. Not even fight. I-I mean, I tried, obviously I did. As hard as I ever knew how, but… but…" He hung his head, letting his long hair trail over his face, his shame as desperate and cutting as it had been when it had happened. "I-it was… no good. Nothing worked. M-my body… my body was just…" Shuddering a little, he covered his face with his hands. "It was so sick. It was horrible. I—wanted to die. What kind of man am I that I couldn't even keep my promise to give myself to you, and you alone?"
"I know," Kumo said softly, the smile gone, and slipped his arms around his brother's sharply hunched shoulders. "Niisama, I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault, don't blame yourself…"
"It was torture—nothing more, nothing less,"Kiri went on, frustrated and shamed as he leaned into Kumo's patient shoulder. "And in the end, even after all that, I… I wasn't even the one who finished her. Aura killed her—I was too weak. I just couldn't move." The strength had been sapped from all his muscles in a bitter parody of the exhaustion he'd always felt after he and Kumo touched each other. It was because of that weakness—that almost-sated feeling—that he hadn't even been able to avenge himself.
"I know," Kumo whispered again, his voice quiet and pained.
"How do you know?" Kiri asked thickly, looking at his brother with pleading eyes as he straightened up. "I just… dammit… that part of me… that was supposed to be your privilege. But… I… you're the only one of our people who can ever know. I can't tell anyone else… not our parents, not… not anybody. You know what they'd say. Someone who's already had sex can't life-bond a virgin… no matter what the circumstances are."
"I have something I need to tell you, too…" Kumo said softly, collapsing against Kiri's firm chest.
Kiri waited, silent. He didn't trust himself to speak.
"I… I'm not…"
Kumo's voice trembled, but he held himself fast, refused to let the tears come. Kiri could hear it in his voice, could hear the unevenness forced away.
"I'm not… a virgin… anymore, either…"
Kiri stared at his little brother's face. No tears. But all the same, Kumo was pale and trembling, his body rigid against Kiri's.
Words came tumbling too quickly for Kiri to do anything but soak them in. "It was that woman, that Kara, and Azrael Astaroth—they came to me in the night, ordered me along with them—nothing I could do—had to obey, couldn't think, but the memories are all perfectly clear—took me to their chambers, made me watch them, then—"
Kiri gripped his brother's shoulders tightly. Kumo was shaking so badly, it looked like he would fall over at any moment.
"Then." Kumo swallowed hard, still staring at a fixed point in Kiri's shirt, his eyes blank and shadowed. "Then. Both of them, one after the other. Over and over. It hurt… it hurt… I just… I feel so, so, dirty, so… both of them. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't—I can't—I…" Silence; Kumo slumped into Kiri's chest again, still trembling, but dry-eyed. "I am such a whore."
"Kumo, no," Kiri said softly.
The only response was a prick of wetness against his chest. Finally, tears, albeit silent ones.
"Listen to me." Kiri gave his brother's shoulders a gentle shake. "Those people raped youYou had no choice in the matter. It's the same as… almost the same as with me, except that I was still there in my head, watching, and I was able to try to fight, even if it didn't work. You weren't. You'd lost your heart, and your soul along with it… You're anything but a whore. You'd never have done anything like that of your own free will. And besides…" Kiri leaned in, pressed his lips gently to Kumo's tearstained cheek. "I couldn't possibly love you any less, no matter what those people did to you."
They stood together in silence. Dusk had painted the sky a deep purplish-blue; a violet cloak covered the both of them, dulling Kiri's clothes and hair.
Kumo clutched Kiri's upper arms and pulled back a little, staring at his brother with huge, pleading eyes. "Stay with me?" he managed, still shaking, though his tremors were beginning to subside. "Stay with me tonight…?"
"Of course," Kiri whispered, deep concern etched over his features. He tried a small smile, although worry tainted it, evened it back out. "…Besides, I don't want to sleep alone either."
There was a terrible vulnerability in Kumo's face as he looked up at Kiri almost despairingly, half-closing his eyes, still trembling slightly. "Niisama, I… I need you… I need you with me…"
And that was when it happened.
Kumo pulled his brother towards him, and their lips met.
This was like no kiss that Kiri had shared with his innocent lover in the past. They'd kept their hands to themselves, moved little, kept their actions gentle. Even when they'd made the hesitant decision to start touching each other, to share in each other's pleasure as much as they dared, they'd always defined strict limits on how much was too much, and stopped well short of anything that could lead them too far. Their kisses had always been sweet, their fleeting, guilty stolen moments brief. But this… this was bold, audacious, almost savage, and it disregarded everything they'd ever decided in the past. As they clung closely to each other, a bold tangle of arms and lips, Kumo's hands slipped from Kiri's shoulders to his hips, digging in his nails as he neared the slight curve at the joints. And Kiri, reacting on simple instinct, slid his tongue past his brother's slightly parted lips as though he knew he'd always belonged there.
Oh, bloody hell, Kiri thought absently, fear and shock wavering briefly through the back of his mind before sharp, brutal arousal took hold.
This was the kiss, the forbidden kiss that the two of them had always skirted around. Kiri had made excuses, claimed that Kumo was too young. He'd been unable to accept the responsibility of what would happen if that kiss went too far. He'd always been the one to fear the consequences, the reality of what would happen the morning after, once the dream had ended and the both of them would return to their senses. Kumo was the one who'd always been certain in his wants and needs; Kiri had been the one who hadn't been ready for it. These truths circled in the back of Kiri's mind as Kumo's intoxicating taste destroyed almost every reservation he'd ever held. As they continued to kiss, Kumo's low, throaty moan sent chills racing up Kiri's spine; playfully, he drew back and began to trace along the lines of Kumo's throat with gentle nips and light butterfly kisses, centering where the pulse throbbed strongest.
Kumo cried out, arched his body against his brother's, and squeezed reflexively, digging his nails into Kiri's hips once again. With a low groan of melded anticipation and excitement, Kiri worried that one spot, bending Kumo backwards and supporting his slim body with both arms. All he was able to think was yes. Kumo's soft, sobbing moans only encouraged him further. His blood burned, ached—it hurt almost as much as the sudden, desperate longing to push Kumo back against the nearest wall, kilt those long smooth legs up around his waist, and take what some part of him had been wanting for almost sixteen years.
Then the sensible part of his brain screamed "STOP!" and his all-too-obedient body froze, letting him pull back just a little, rescuing Kumo from the half-swoon he was trapped in. God, what was he doing? He was hot, hard, erect, aching for something they'd both decided was not gonna happen for at least two more years, and he'd just given his sweet, innocent little brother his very first hickey.
Not to mention that sex in the street would probably be a bad thing, even if no one was around to watch them.
Where the hell did my little brother learn to kiss like that? wondered the horny part of Kiri's mind, fascinated. The rest of him tried to tune that thought out.
"Don't stop," Kumo sobbed, his chest visibly heaving with his breath, his face aflame with blush.
"We have to," Kiri said slowly, although he wasn't too sure himself. He needed to take care of his erection—it was almost impossible to think. "The life-bond…"
"You heard what the others told us about what we have to do," Kumo insisted. "It'll be dangerous, life-threatening. If I die tomorrow, the life-bond isn't going to matter. Or if you die. For all we know we could both die. And if I die, I want to die with no regrets… I want to die with the taste of you on my lips… I want to take the sense of you with me… I want you inside me. Now." And to Kumo, it seemed as simple as that. Kiri suddenly realized that he wasn't the only one in such an awkward condition. He was getting rail-spiked by his little brother.
"But this is—" Kiri shook his head helplessly, even as desire surged through his body, a whisper through a mind hopelessly clouded with arousal: Oh please, yes, please, I want you, let me have you, I have to have you, let's do it right here, right now, this very moment. "I-it's too soon, we've both been through too much—Nallorn and Gaedrian, we were just talking about what those people did to us, we can't be expected to…!"
"But that's exactly why," Kumo said, his lust-smoky eyes begging. "If something happens when we go through the Gate tomorrow, something that can't be undone, I don't want to go the rest of my life with my last memory of intimacy, of sex, tainted by their actions. You remember what they say, don't you—sex should be about love, not pain. I don't want my only experience of it to be of pain."
"Kumo…"
"Besides…" Kumo stretched up and lightly kissed, then delicately licked a soft spot at the side of Kiri's throat. Kiri shivered and moaned, his whole body aching with want. "Besides, don't you want to know? All the things we've heard, and what Hoshi and Arashi have told us it's like… don't you want to find out if it's true? I've been dreaming of it, for such a long time…" Kumo smiled slightly, giving his brother a patient look. "I know we said we'd wait. I know you're worried that this is too early. But I can't wait any longer, and neither can you. Please. Let's celebrate each other now, tonight."
"B-but we can't do it here," Kiri protested. Trying to keep up the other side of the argument would be hopeless. Kiri knew, and knew it very, very deeply, that there was no possible way he could be satisfied with resolving his desperately urgent desire by himself, or even letting Kumo do it. It was too late. Whether he was right or not, Kumo was going to get his way tonight.
"Not here," Kumo agreed, and pointed. "There."
What seemed to be somebody's house loomed behind them—in fact, it was the building they'd been making out against.
"There."
"Yes…"
"Some stranger's house."
"Yes."
"You're suggesting that we break into the house of some strange person we don't even know, stay the night there, raid their stuff, and have mad sex in their bed."
"Yes. Either take me inside, or I will throw you down in the street this minute and rape you." Through the jesting overtone, Kumo's voice was strained and urgent. "Hurry."
"Alright, alright, fine." There was no way in hell that Kiri was going to let Kumo be on top the first time, and with both of them in thisstate already, there was no way in hell they'd be able to last long enough to find an inn that their friends weren't occupying. With no other options, Kiri would have to give in here, for the sake of his own pride. At least one thing had to go as planned tonight.
Awkwardly, the two of them managed to maneuver themselves towards the door, stealing short kisses all the way.
---
Kaze and Lisa sat side by side in the apartment above the city's curative store, on what seemed to be the owner's bed, staring out the window at what remained of the sunset.
With a sigh, Lisa stood, walked over to the door, and turned on the lamps on either side of it. The soft golden light bathed them both in a gentle glow; it reflected off of Kaze's rich hair, bringing out the hidden auburn tones in a reddish-brown halo.
"Thank you," he said softly, turning to give her one of his slight, almost unnoticeable smiles. As she smiled back, she felt her heart turn over in her chest.
Only love plays complete hell with your emotions, she remembered her mother saying. And it was true.
Whenever Kaze smiled at her, she felt like she was going to faint. And despite knowing that he loved her as well, she still couldn't help the awkwardness that lay over her like a second set of clothing. She didn't know why. She had succumbed to her growing feelings long ago. They had kissed, so many times—she'd let him touch her breasts; let him touch her as, before, she had only been able to touch herself. It still made her face flame to remember how they'd acted the last time, instead of being the sensible adults they were supposed to be—and worse, when she felt the memory of his fingers running up her thigh to rest between her legs, she had to fight back a soft moan. She did want him, and she knew that the only way she'd ever get anywhere there would be to push him, but… there were times when she was so embarrassed by her actions towards him.
"Thank you… for standing by me, all this time."
Snapping back to earth, Lisa smiled automatically and slipped back next to him, pressing against his side. "Don't. It's all right. I did what anyone would have done."
"I… would have despaired, regardless… if it had been anyone but you."
"Will Aura be okay?"
Kaze's eyes were gentle as he replied. "She's strong. She should be fine."
"Mm." Lisa snuggled against his shoulder, basking in his presence.
"Lisa."
"What is it?"
"The darkness. It's… taking me. And I can tell… that it won't be long now."
She sat up, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. "Are you still worried about that?" Kaze was silent, staring blackly at his right arm, which remained (as always) beneath his heavy cloak. "Do you want me to take a look?"
He hesitated, and the look of despair in his eyes hurt Lisa's heart. But after a pause that felt like hours, he nodded and pulled the shadowy fabric back.
Lisa sucked in a slow breath as her heart began to pound. "God…"
What had started out as thin webs of insidious black and purple over the dull brassy metal of the Magun slid just under its surface in a thick and twisting mass, reminding Lisa somehow of the smoky twist of milk just poured into tea. Here and there a palm-wide patch of darkened gold still showed through, but this was far, far too close to the ugly, corrupted vision of the summoning gun they had all seen on the arm of the mirror demon Kaze had barely defeated earlier today.
It felt like centuries ago.
As Lisa very gently laid her hands along the Magun's quiet warmth and attempted not to flinch at the jarring discord that writhed below the metal, Kaze shook his head numbly. "I can feel it… waiting for me, just about to overpower me. I have only one or two summons left before the darkness takes me."
Lisa bit her lip. "Kaze… I don't know what to tell you. I am so sorry."
"I hate it."
She looked up at him unhappily. "But… do you really have to feel that way? The Heartless may come from the darkness, but… darkness and light are both a part of the world's balance, and without one, the other can't exist. And who ever said that darkness had to be evil? You shouldn't have to fear and hate something that should be as natural to you as breathing…"
A spasm of deep agony crossed Kaze's usually impassive face, and he gripped his arm, sweeping the cloak back to hide it. "But, this… it's…" He shook his head violently, making his long horsetail drag across the bed linens. "How can anyone stand to look at it? I wish… why couldn't I just have been born like all the others…? All it's ever done… was make me an outcast, a freak. At least then it had use. Now… all it is to me… is a curse. I hate it."
"Kaze, no," Lisa said softly, rubbing his shoulder. "You mustn't feel that way, not when it's always been and always will be a part of you…"
"But don't you?" Once again, those piercing cerulean eyes were steeped in despair.
Lisa blinked, surprised. He was worried that she hated him for being this way?
Slowly, she smiled, pulled her long black hair from its bun to fall softly around her, then settled her hands back along the surface of the Magun. Holding Kaze's gaze all the while, she slowly, slowly drifted her fingertips up along its length until she touched skin, then traced the muscles of his upper arms and shoulders until she could twist her fingers into his hair, trying not to purr as she felt him catch his breath.
"I don't hate it, or think you any less normal for having been born with it," she said softly, honestly, as she tried to convince him of her truthfulness with the directness of her stare. "This is your heart. How could I possibly hate your heart?"
"Lisa…"
She smiled and shook her head sadly at him, then leaned in to capture his lips with hers.
Her heart was still pounding in her throat, and not just from the pleasant hum of want that buzzed through her blood every time she got within a meter of him. If she were completely honest with herself… she was terrified. She'd never been so scared for anyone in her life. When she'd lived and studied at the university, she'd had it drilled into her over and over that she must never become close to anyone she treated—because a good percentage of people who required the services of healers were mercenaries or soldiers, who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. Sweet, quiet Kaze—who Lisa had long since discovered was the saving-homeless-puppies, can't-pass-by-so-much-as-an-upside-down-turtle-without-setting-it-upright kind of man—was also a warrior who risked his life daily to fight for what he believed in. And no matter how afraid of or hateful towards the weapon on his arm he was, he would still use it recklessly and without question if he had to, no matter the cost for himself.
When they went through the Final Gate tomorrow after the creature that had once controlled Azrael Astaroth's forces and Kumo's heartless body… the man who now clutched her like life to his body, whispered her name with a heartbreaking helplessness that made her insides quiver, would absolutely give himself up to the unknown fate that terrified him if he thought it would save her and the others.
And that just scared Lisa to death—because something in her heart was already preparing for an "after" the battle… an "after" that had Kaze in it. An "after" that would be unthinkable without Kaze in it. And then, after the "after"… maybe even a "forever".
And Lisa knew… she wouldn't be able to stand it, if she lost him.
The sharp, dissonant creak of bedsprings brought her back to reality, and she realized that she was sprawled on her back on the bed, with Kaze leaning over her. She was barefoot and Kaze's boots also seemed to have been lost; also gone was Kaze's cloak, and his horsetail had come loose, letting his rich mahogany-brown hair spill over both their bodies.
Much more of this, and she suspected that more than just their shoes would go AWOL…
Her breathing rasped as she looked up into his eyes, seeing only the aching longing and love there. She knew what he wanted—how could she not?—in the press of their bodies; could feel it against her like a silent promise.
So before he could back away and retreat into that shy formality like the last time, she clutched his shoulders and made him really look at her, so that he would know why she was saying it when she did.
"I love you."
He flushed instantly. "L-Lisa…"
She hushed him, and reached up to stroke the side of his face. "It's the truth. And… after tonight, after we pass through that Gate tomorrow… all of us know that nothing will ever be the same again. This is a night of last chances, and we can't afford to think about the maybes except to realize that if everything isn't said and done now, while it still can be said and done, it's likely that we're going to regret it."
"Lisa… what are you… saying…?"
He looked so cute once she'd perplexed him, Lisa thought with a smile. "I'm saying… that I'm not going to let you get away tonight." She rose from the mattress, pressed her body to his, and clenched her hands on the back of his vest. "Kaze… make love to me."
---
After an hour-long battle with herself, Fabula felt the sigh and retreat of her common sense, then got up to ascend the stairs to the inn's second floor.
Kiri and Kumo had left long ago to talk; Kaze and Lisa had wanted some space to be together. Aura had retreated upstairs at her first opportunity.
And so she'd just been sitting here, arguing silently but bitterly with herself in the confines of her own eon-old mind.
She might have the age and experience of a Guide, but for all the lonely years of her long life, her body had retained the solemn, silent needs of a young woman. And her heart had carried its scandalous secret for longer than she cared to recount. The truth of both had gone ignored for too long to be healthy.
And Aura had seen it anyway, from the moment the two of them had met.
"So... how long have you known?"
Trust her to put it like that. Unlike Kumo and most of those she'd Guided over the millennia, Aura had very little tact, which she refused to utilize. Fabula had nearly died of shock, and still hadn't gotten over the amazement of being recognized for what she was, and accepted.
Since she'd been young (operative word), she'd just always seen herself with other women, the way she supposed most girls saw themselves with men, or vice versa. Not until she'd gotten to "marrying age" had it really sunk in that most people weren't like that. And, of course, she hadn't told anyone. That sort of thing had been looked down upon in her homeland, all those years ago—to speak openly of her sexual preferences to anyone was to invite ostracism even further than what she'd already experienced, chosen so young to become a Guide.
But Aura understood.
Aura was special—different in her own way, or at least, that was how Fabula was prepared to accept it. She was intelligent and funny, and though she was definitely rough around the edges, she was one of the most interesting individuals that Fabula had ever met. Her practicality was charming; her devotion to Kaze was, in its own way, as sweet as the love between her dear Kiri and Kumo. Her laugh was bright and attention-stealing; her crooked, almost scurrilous smile was entrancing.
Aura had beyond a doubt grown to be the closest friend she'd ever had.
And Aura needed help. She was still in shock from finding out the painful truth behind her birth. Her agonized cry of "What am I?!" still made something in Fabula's chest twist; she'd remember that desperate look in the other girl's silver eyes, as well as the first tears Aura had shed since the two of them had met, for the rest of her long life.
Aura was going to need someone who could understand.
Kiri must be rubbing off on me more than I realized. Fabula shook her head at herself, even as she paused on the steps, shifting her weight to one side indecisively. I never would've done this before I'd met him, or any of the others.
But this was Aura. So in the end, she had no choice.
Sighing, she finished the walk up the stairs and gently pushed open the only closed door in the hall.
"Hey," she said softly, seeing Aura curled up on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. There were still red streaks beneath her eyes; it looked like she'd cried for quite some time.
"Hey yourself," Aura rasped in a voice that was half gone.
Shoving all vestiges of shyness and uncertainty into the back corners of her mind, Fabula crossed the room and sat beside her, slinging an arm around Aura's shoulders.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Don't lie."
Aura rolled her eyes, regaining a shadow of her usual rough self. "I'm dealing with it."
"I told you not to lie," Fabula said pointedly.
Aura winced.
"It's hard, okay?" she said sheepishly, running a hand through her hair, which she'd left down. "I grew up thinking that Kaze's parents were my parents. That he was really my brother. Even with all the weird shit…" She shook her head. "I keep remembering things, where bad stuff would happen and I'd just sail right through it, feeling little to nothing. In all of my clearer memories I've had better emotional responses to things, but… even so. I think I've… actually been able to love only two people over the entire course of my life."
"Kaze," Fabula supplied. "And…?"
Aura was silent for a while, considering her friend's face for a long moment.
"May I do something stupid?" she asked abruptly.
Fabula started to protest that she was changing the subject, but before she could even begin to speak, Aura closed the distance between them and lightly pressed her lips to her friend's cheek.
It was over in little more than a second, but it left both of them red-faced and silent.
Fabula was completely poleaxed.
"Answer your question?" Aura, sporting an almost petulant glare and a particularly cute blush, asked shortly and bluntly.
There was another long and awkward silence, after which they both began laughing, relieved, at the pure absurd gracelessness of the moment.
"You've felt this way the entire time?" Fabula asked at length, unceremoniously shoving her hair out of her face as she gave Aura a sidelong look.
"For a while now," Aura replied with a shrug. "I thought you knew."
"You weren't exactly forthcoming about it."
"Neither were you, but I still managed to figure it out," Aura said flatly. "…I guess we both need to act a little more open about stuff. Well, I was sort of wondering if and when I should jump you, but I didn't want to scare you off and I went to a lot of trouble to not look or act like a cat in heat."
Fabula opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, suddenly becoming very red.
Aura started giggling again. "Look at you! Father Nallorn, can you blush. You look ridiculous." The giggles continued as she slashed the back of her hand across her cheeks. "Then again, I guess I look pretty pathetic, too… from one end of hysteria to the other in ten minutes. Wow. I really need to learn when to shut my stupid head."
Which set both of them off yet again.
When Aura had calmed down a little bit, Fabula closed her eyes and clenched her hands in her lap. She'd sworn to herself that she would bring it up if she got the chance, seeing as she probably wouldn't have another one—not when everything was going to be over so soon.
"Right, well… now that I'm up here and you've told me all this," she said slowly, elbowing Aura in the side and giving her a brief dirty look, "there's something I need your help with."
"What is it?" Aura asked, ignoring the slight dig and cocking her head to one side.
"All my life… whenever a situation's gone out of my control, I've never allowed myself to admit or accept that. Anyone else in my position should've been able to sit back and let everything with Kumo play out on its own, but I couldn't. I hate feeling helpless so much that I get flustered whenever I do, and I cover it up with a lot of anger and bluster and plans to do things about whatever it is that set me off. I don't take things like that very well—I just have this, this need to always be on top of everything, holding the reins. But knowing that sometimes there's nothing you can do… being able to accept helplessness… I know that it can be important.
"I think that… a lot of it comes from something that happened to me when I was very young. It was the first time I ever really lost control, and even though because I did, my people were saved from a very dangerous threat… when it happened, I… took hold of my full power too early. I couldn't control it at all after that, and I became a danger to everyone and everything around me. So I was bound. It's… a very ugly memory, bordering on traumatic. Ever since then, I've hated to lose control in any way, shape, or form.
"But today, it was… actually a very good thing that I lost it. If I hadn't—I might not have been able to save you. So I know… I think I'm learning that I don't always have to control anything, not even myself. And it's because I need help learning that… that I…" She fell silent, forced herself to remember that this was something she'd wanted, something she'd been wanting since—she didn't even know. "Aura, I…
"Aura… I need you to teach me… how to let go…"
There was enough suggestion in her words, and in the sudden hoarseness of her voice, that Aura understood immediately. She took a moment to stare at the serious expression on Fabula's face, amazed despite herself and the way she'd joked about this only minutes ago.
She means it. She decided that fast, even after just finding out the truth from me. Incredible.
Shaking off the wonder, Aura let a slow, furtive smile spread across her face.
"I think I can help you," she murmured, her silvery eyes going dark and smoky as she reached across to take Fabula's hand.
---
Kiri fumbled with the clasp of Kumo's swordbelt, cursing, as Kumo successfully slid his brother's off, then swiftly unhooked the Mistbelt hanging at an angle along Kiri's sharp hips. The damn thing did not want to cooperate, and the lust pounding like a second heartbeat through Kiri's body wasn't exactly helping the situation.
"Let me," Kumo managed in between panting breaths, pushing Kiri's hands away. As his lover worked at the stubborn clasp, Kiri growled and undid his brother's Mistbelt, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor. Seconds later, the swordbelt followed it.
"Mmn…" Kiri pushed Kumo up against the door they'd just wrestled through, pressing their bodies together almost violently as they kissed voraciously.
Every time they pulled back for a few seconds to breathe, Kumo let out a gasp for air that was half-sob; then once they captured each other's lips again, a sexy little tremor ran through his body, a shiver of mingled terror and delight. Kiri sighed into his brother's kiss, barely keeping the sound from becoming a groan.
"I want you so bad…" he moaned into Kumo's lips.
Kumo didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached up and deftly undid Kiri's choker, letting it flutter noiselessly away. The Keyblade pendant he'd unhooked with it hit the floor with a jangle.
Kiri backed up a step, pulling Kumo along with him, and carefully undid the ribbon around that slender white throat (which, he noted, now sported several pink marks where Kiri had nibbled at the skin). Kumo was still breathing roughly, and Kiri remained intent on the sharp heave of his brother's chest the entire time. What in the hell was so sexy about the shift of Kumo's ribs beneath his clothes?
The two of them managed to get into the hall before Kiri couldn't stand it anymore and slid his hands up underneath Kumo's blouse, tracing spirals along that tantalizingly soft skin with his fingertips. Kumo let out a breathy little cry as Kiri inched the thin white sheath of cloth up, finally pulling it over his head to let his lover toss it aside.
But as Kumo let his hands venture to Kiri's hips, starting to inch his fingers towards bare skin in return, Kiri pushed him up against the wall.
"Cold—" Kumo gasped.
"Not for long," Kiri managed. And kissed him passionately, breaking off only to shed his shirt when Kumo's hands started creeping back up again.
"Niisama—" Kumo moaned desperately. Kiri stroked his cheek lovingly, murmuring support, then slid his leg between his brother's.
Kumo cried out with shock, his hands finding a viselike grip on Kiri's upper arms.
"Steady," Kiri whispered, and pushed his hip up against Kumo's groin in a slow and gentle yet nevertheless calculated motion.
And as he did so, he watched Kumo carefully. That lithe young body was flung back against the wall in reckless, erotic abandon; Kumo's eyes were barely half open and his gaze was vague and unfocused, with the pupils almost fully dilated. His breathing was even more jagged than before, and his lips were flushed and swollen. There was a faint sheen of sweat along his shoulders and clavicle, and his nipples were hard—he was most likely not going to last much longer.
"Oh—oh—oh—" Kumo sobbed. "Don't—I can't—I'll—Niisama—"
Kiri eased back; Kumo, still taut with sexual tension, relaxed as much as he could against the wall and struggled to breathe.
His eyes smoky with lust, Kiri started to undo Kumo's leggings.
Kumo sighed, but gave his lover a reproachful look. "Bed…" he said in a soft and muzzy murmur.
As the white fabric trailed down Kumo's hips and pooled at his feet, the redhead traced the ribbon-circled band of his panties with his fingertips, but made no move to take them off as well. Kumo was right. It was their first time together; they should most definitely do the thing properly, which required a mattress.
So instead of pushing Kumo back up to the wall and taking him right then and there as his body so insistently urged, Kiri pulled his brother along the hall towards the stairs.
They paused for a moment, leaned against the banister, and kissed desperately, as Kumo battled with Kiri's leggings impatiently. It took only a few moments before the two of them were able to stagger mostly naked up the steps towards the upper floor.
Picking a door, Kiri flung it open; Kumo managed to undo his loincloth as he was hauled into the plushly furnished room, towards the king-sized canopy bed that dominated it.
Kiri turned towards Kumo, his eyes dark with desire, and in one fluid motion pulled his lover's panties down his hips and flung him down on the bed so hard that the sheets billowed up briefly in his wake.
As Kumo lay stunned and gasping, Kiri stalked towards him with velveteen steps, then perched on the bed beside him.
Dazed, Kumo glanced up; Kiri looked fey and almost regal as he sat there in a purposely angular, overwhelmingly sexy pose, concealing breathlessness, his long feathery hair clinging to his sweat-slick body in snaking tendrils. Naked and beautiful with what low light there was glinting along the taut muscles of his belly, Kiri smiled dangerously down at his lover, then leaned over to briefly kiss Kumo on the lips, his expression softening.
"I love you," he said in a gentle tone.
And in one swift and savage movement, he was suddenly lying on top of Kumo, and they were kissing as if to express with their bodies all the love and lust they'd ever held for each other.
It was time.
---
Lisa didn't know how much more she could stand.
Within the past five minutes, they'd only managed to dispose of her bright armwarmers and his shirt and vest. Each moment had felt like it had lasted for years. Kaze's touch left an unbearable burning in its wake; she couldn't take it for much longer. She'd had no idea that he would want to draw things out for so long, considering the blinding speed with which one thing had almost led to another before.
Pulling her up with him, he let his hand rest on her thigh; as she rose against his body, sitting nearly straight, he began to inch it smoothly upwards, sliding it beneath the hem of her dress and over her tight derriere, tugging the cloth with it along her back and exposing more and more of her soft, passion-flushed skin.
Shivering under the intensity of his touch, she reached out to him, drawing her own hands across the tight, almost sculpted muscles of his own chest and abdomen, half-wanting to punish him for putting her through such agony of helpless desire.
The gentle application of nails and fingertips made him hiss softly, bringing a wicked glitter to his eyes. So this was to be a battle of punishment, was it?
As his hand reached her shoulderblades, he found the catch that held her breastband and undid it, pulling it along with the dress that he tossed away as soon as it was over her head. She squeaked in dismay as he pushed her back, but inwardly danced with glee at his blush and the direction of his stare.
He kissed her again—she gasped when he released her, let out a sobbing moan as his lips found the soft curve of her full breast. He gently drew her into him; as he ravaged her softly with deceptively tender caresses of lips and tongue, she clutched vainly at the bedclothes beneath her, feeling her world spin as he slid his hand between her legs. Left without choice, she bore it as he destroyed her between the sensitivity of his kiss and the rough rocking of the heel of his hand, drawing herself up and against him in a harsh rhythm as he shifted to her other breast.
Pleasure came in a sweet burst, but it wasn't enough. And while before, he had shied away and retreated into himself before she'd been able to slip him into her, he wasn't going to get away from her this time. If he was going to spend so much time on painstakingly driving her crazy with lust, she was going to have him one way or another tonight.
No matter what he did to torture her with postponement of the inevitable.
"Kaze, you—"
Her hands found the fly of his tough leather pants.
"—are a very—"
Fiercely, she undid the snaps decisively, one by one.
"—bad man."
She ripped them from him; he cursed hoarsely and kicked free of the encumbrance, his eyes dancing with a wicked light as he slipped her lacy panties down her thighs.
As she lay and breathlessly looked up at him, she noted the glazed look in his eyes and suddenly realized that he was probably at least as desperate as she was for this. Whatever reservations had stopped him the last time, they very much weren't holding him back now.
"Lisa." He said her name gently, almost reverently. "You're so…"
But he just shook his head, apparently unable to find a word, and traced the curve of her body all the way down to her hips, until his fingers rested once again between her legs.
She let out a low moan as a violent heat throbbed through her at his touch. Something desperate and insistent tugged in her belly, and she thought for one brief moment that he would have only to move his fingers the slightest bit for her to come in a flood.
She reached out to him, grabbed his hips, and pulled him down to her.
"Now," she whispered, half-delirious with desire. "I need you inside me."
In answer, he leaned down and kissed her, and as she spread her thighs to him, he pressed their bodies together and pushed into her beneath her guiding hands.
She let out a soft gasp as she felt him enter her. In this, at least, there was tenderness without calculation behind it—though she was a virgin, there was no pain. It did feel strange for a moment—even awkward—to be so intimate, to feel him hard and full inside her. But as he pulled back and thrust, she was thrown into a dizzy realm of heady color and sensation.
Her vision hazed and faded as he crushed her to him, gasping for breath; her blood blazed with aching pleasure. She clutched blindly at him, her hands tangled in his hair, as he plunged into her, and out of her will her body jerked, almost convulsing against him. He shuddered, but held on; she could hear the rasping of his breath even as she drowned in him.
"Yes," she sighed. This was exactly it, what she'd been wishing for, dreaming of, for longer than she would ever admit to him. He filled her, and the places within her she'd come to realize were painfully empty sang with the fulfillment he gave her. This was the feeling she'd wanted, even more than the roiling pleasure of their mingled flesh—this completeness, as two people struggled to become one.
Reckless with the heady glory of it, she struggled and kissed and managed to roll him over, then sat up slightly, her hands on his shoulders, sliding herself over him as she watched him watching her take him.
Kaze relinquished control almost too gladly—if Lisa had been in any state to think much about it, she would have wondered if anything she'd said to him had caused him to give himself over so easily. He lay and let her ride, slipping his hips up to meet hers as she started to roughen her pace, closing her eyes tightly and letting out little breathy moans of his name.
She let out a tiny "oh" as the tides swept her away, trembling, unable to move forward. Heat seared between her legs, along her breasts, blazing up and down her body in waves of fire. Nothing could possibly be better than what she was feeling now.
And then Kaze took over again, crushing her back into the sheets.
Hard, fast, and vicious, he plunged deeper inside her, drew back that pleasure that had begun to fade, and doubled it. She gasped, clung to him, her entire body alight with him, letting him drag her back up that peak, speechless as he branded pleasure into her every time he thrust.
"Lisa—" It was a plea, a cry of desperation. She could feel him shaking, about to fall apart; once again, it seemed, he needed her reassurance.
Breathlessly, she drew him down to her, kissed him, putting all her love and lust for him into that brief brush of lips.
And lost to the wonder of the union of their flesh, she missed what she otherwise might have sensed—the life seeded inside her went completely unnoticed beneath her own cries and Kaze's shocked gasp as they came in one last brilliant flare of light, heedless of whatever consequences lay forgotten in the road ahead of them.
---
There would be no mercy from Aura in this.
And that simple fact was scaring the shit out of her.
"You really aren't used to being touched, are you?" Aura asked, amused, sitting nonchalant and wearing only the wicked smile of a cat about to pounce.
"No, I—I've never… done this before." And it was awkward. Because she wasn't used to being seen naked. Or seeing others like that, either, as a matter of fact. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears; she tried to fight back the way her hands shook. And despite the reservations of her mind, her body was half-crazy with lust and built-up sexual frustration.
Which only made it worse, if you asked her.
"You can calm down now," Aura said lightly, yet patiently. "Just because it's your first time doesn't mean you have to be so tense. It's better the more you loosen up."
"Aura—"
"It's a shame, really," she said casually, placing a hand on Fabula's hip and lightly sliding it up her side towards her breast, causing her breath to hitch sharply. "You have a beautiful body. It's too bad you've never had anyone you could trust it to before now. A damn shame," she repeated, and Fabula shivered as Aura traced idle patterns across her skin with an errant fingertip. "No one should ever have to stay as far back in the closet as you have. I doubt I've ever seen anyone so sexually repressed." She smirked. "Well, I guess I'll just have to convince you of how fun it can get. Sexual release is good for you, after all."
How can she keep her voice so calm when she's got her hands all over me?? Fabula wondered giddily, even as she gave Aura a look. "I already know that much for myself, thank you, even if I've never gone past the 'unrequited crush' stage before." And she fought the urge to clap a hand over her mouth, which wouldn't do any good anymore. God, what was she saying?
"I think you'll still find that orgasm is more intense when somebody else is in control, not you," Aura said mildly, then frowned. "Goddamn it, every girl I've ever known has better breasts than I do. You have no idea how lucky you are." As she explored them with questing fingers, Fabula arched her back a little and gave a short breathless sigh. "God, this makes me want to pick on you." Seeing the look of alarm come over the other woman's face, she grinned, her eyes dark and feral with mischief. "Oh, don't worry, I won't get nasty until you know how to defend yourself properly. It'd be mean to take advantage of you when you still barely have any idea what you're doing."
What have I gotten myself into? "You're scaring me," Fabula said frankly.
"Good." And before Fabula could start to react to that, Aura leaned in and kissed her.
Instantly, Fabula relaxed, closing her eyes and letting the tension slide away. This was definitely better ground, and Aura was a good kisser—aggressive without being intrusive, with perfectly plush lips and a seductive slowness to her easy and practiced pace. It was enough to keep her quiet and unresisting even through the slight flicker of alarm when Aura slid her down against the mattress.
But not enough to smooth over the jolt when Aura oh-so-casually slipped her knee between her legs.
She couldn't jerk up—Aura had her firmly pinned, trapped between increasingly harsh kisses and the strong grip that held her against the mattress, kept her from struggling. The pleasure was instantaneous, and vicious, ripping through her with the strength of a thunderclap. And as Aura worked her, it came in heavy waves, leaving her shocked and breathless.
She let out one startled cry as she came, cresting the tide and setting her nails into Aura's shoulders. Recognizing the moment for what it was, Aura eased off the pressure and sat up, letting Fabula get her breath back.
"I do believe I've proved me right," she said, a complacent smirk sliding across her face.
Fabula just sighed, a slow and grateful sound, feeling the echoes of that throbbing heat wash over her body. She'd never felt anything like that before. It was incredible.
"Thought so." Smugness dripped from every syllable she spoke. "Your turn."
"My—what?" Fabula looked up at her, more than a little alarmed. But it seemed as though Aura had anticipated that kind of reaction, because then she took over.
It was impossible to tell what Aura was thinking as she took the Fabula's suddenly shaking hands and coaxed them along her own body, starting with her sides and hips, easing those hands along in soft, smooth strokes.
"You can do this, easily. Just go ahead and make me feel the way I know you can."
"Aura—" She had no idea what to say.
"Oh, just shut up. It's obvious that you're not going to seduce me with protests. Do the talking with your hands instead."
Okay, fine. And it wasn't like Fabula would ever give her the satisfaction of hearing the incredibly graphic come-on lines that had just popped into her head. Instead, she closed her eyes and let her hands glide on their own, exploring Aura's taut and highly trained body, sliding over her thighs and back, then her breasts. It was a pleasant shock to hear the other girl's soft sigh as her nipples tightened up beneath Fabula's gentle touch, to know that despite her distinct lack of expertise she was getting somewhere.
It was delicious torture, to touch someone like this. To have them do the same for you. And nothing could ever have prepared her for it. It was so much more than the half-formed dreams and wishes she'd entertained through her life, during the days when she was certain she would never feel these things herself. It was dizzying, and the amount of trust it required was enough to give anyone vertigo. To place yourself in someone else's hands, for good—it was a strange feeling, but it was almost as arousing as Aura's low and aching moan and the arch of that young and supple body towards her hands.
"Just take me," Aura whispered.
Fabula stopped dead; opened her eyes and stared. "Aura, I—"
"It's all right. It's not going to be any different than it is with yourself. Just do it. I need you to do it." And despite her expert control, Aura was on the verge of going to pieces—Fabula heard it in her voice.
When she didn't move on her own, Aura took her hands and slid them between her legs.
She was hot, and wet, and tense with the sharpness of desire. From there, it was just instinct.
Aura rocked her hips forward, arched her body inward, and moaned, long and low. "Oh, God, yes."
There was a hot, violent clutch of want that seared through her as Aura moaned again, thrusting into her hands, taking Fabula deeper into her. Aura wanted hard, and vicious. Until then, Fabula hadn't had any idea that she'd had that in her.
Aura's breathing broke into harsh panting as she curled her hands into the sheets, and moaned again as she came hard, shivering into her lover's hands.
When she opened her eyes, they were dark and smoky, almost vindictive.
That was the only warning Fabula got.
Aura's lips were all over her, spreading hot nibbles down the smooth lines of her throat, lavishing meticulous attention over the breasts she seemed to envy so, lingering at her navel long enough to nip and almost wickedly lick, then down.
And down.
Into the most intimate of kisses that they could share.
Fabula hadn't expected this, hadn't known it would be like this. Had never dreamed that Aura would use her lips on her the first time. Not this way. Aura was as skilled as she boasted, switching from gentle to voracious in moments.
And so slowly.
"Oh, hell—" Fabula closed her eyes, feeling abandon flooding through her with the pleasure. And all but writhed in pure erotic delight when Aura slipped into her.
Intoxicated, she arched, twisting her body to let Aura go further. There was nothing else she could do, hopelessly addicted to the sweet aching pleasure in her blood and the knowledge that the one she'd been lucky enough to fall in love with had put it there.
It felt rounder, more open, this time; still, the waves of pleasure were too long, too slow. She'd had enough gentleness for one night. She wanted Aura to stop being nice and pillage.
And almost as if alerted by the thought, that was exactly what Aura did.
Fabula gasped, reared, and clutched the sheets, brilliance raging through her body, riding the waves of oppressive heat. It was too much too soon; she hadn't been ready to be thrown headlong over that precipice—
But she came, and she broke, and where she had expected to fall, she flew.
Helplessness.
She could get used to it.
---
Kumo shuddered, moaning long and low, as Kiri ground their hips together, reveling in the sense of slick skin on skin.
They were naked, and desperate, the taut clutch of nervous hands on sweat-slicked skin and the ragged unevenness of their heaving chest and the surprised catch of breath at the friction as they brushed against each other, almost painfully hot and so, so close to what they both needed speaking of just how long they'd waited for this, just how much love and longing would be expressed in this.
Before, Kumo had wanted, and Kiri had wanted, brutally pushing those desires aside to conform to the expectations of their people, to the pact they'd made. And now, Kiri needed and God it hurt even as it was so, so good and he could hear in the bright tremolo of Kumo's pleas that the soul-deep need that overcame every inhibition between them wasn't his alone.
Kiri ran his hands along Kumo's smooth ivory skin, tracing wicked lines across the soft flesh. Reaching the tight, full curves of his derriere, he squeezed slightly, feeling the pangs of desire tearing through him. His brief, husky moan blended with Kumo's prolonged, fevered one; denying himself still, he turned the squeeze into a caress while Kumo half-sobbed in yearning.
"You know, you have got the sexiest ass," he told his victim hoarsely as Kumo continued to whimper. "I've wanted to tell you about just how beautiful you are forever… I've wanted to touch you, to be close to you…" His ragged panting broke his speech, but it didn't matter. Kumo knew.
"Stop teasing me," Kumo begged, his slight, slender form arching upwards in agonizing desire.
In response, Kiri kissed him, his ministrations crawling from the softness of Kumo's earlobes to the throbbing heat of his swollen lips. Gently, playfully, he nibbled along the length of the swell, flirting closer and closer towards the moment he would take what he so desperately needed. Moaning soft and low, Kumo slipped his tongue into his brother's mouth, seeking an end to the torture. While he had his captive so distracted, Kiri slipped his hand almost carelessly downwards, making a tender point with a seemingly thoughtless brush of nails and fingertips across Kumo's groin.
With a whimper, Kumo fell back, entirely helpless. "Niisama," he pleaded hopelessly, his voice cracked with the sheer vulnerability of lust.
Kiri spared a brief look down. Kumo's entire body was heaving with each breath he took, twisted in a way that had to be truly painful, quivering with need. The rail spike was still there. In fact, Kiri thought it was getting worse: It was stiff, hot, and sticky against him—and he doubted that all the stickiness was just sweat. Kumo's delicate features were bright pink, his soft lashes pressed to his cheeks, his swollen lips parted mid-cry.
Neither of them could hold back much longer.
"Kumo," Kiri whispered. "I will not lie to you. This is going to be very painful. But there's not much I can do until it subsides. Please, try to bear it until then."
"Do it," Kumo sobbed, begging. "It can't hurt worse than this—"
"Shh. Just listen to me," Kiri murmured, slipping his left hand up to rest on Kumo's cheek. "You'll want to, but don't fight me. Just hold on to me—and keep your eyes open." He pried his hands loose from his brother's beautiful, vulnerable body, found Kumo's hands tangled in the sheets behind him, and gently took hold of them, fighting the urge to smile as Kumo's death grip transferred to the hands on his rather than the sweat-dampened linens. "Are you ready?"
"Yes—"
Kiri didn't wait to hear anything else. Sliding his thighs under Kumo's, he jerked his hips and his brother's up, then in one swift, savage, gentle motion, claimed him.
A sharp shock ran through Kiri's body with the movement; he shuddered slightly, bewildered. His memories of the rape were vague, but he knew it hadn't been like this. He hadn't expected it to be like this. This feeling, and the control it gave him—they went straight to his core. And that frightened him.
Beneath him, Kumo let out a sharp gasp, every muscle going tense, and winced reflexively, whipping his face to the side and closing his eyes tightly. His grip on Kiri's hands was becoming painfully tight.
"Oh, God—"
"Kumo, relax. You've got to relax," Kiri said softly, urgently. "If you don't, it's just going to hurt worse, understand?"
"But—"
"Look at me," Kiri interrupted, starting to shake. "Open your eyes and look at me. I'm here—this is me. And it won't hurt for much longer. Please, Kumo, trust me."
With an effort, Kumo turned back, giving his brother a wide-eyed, tearful, almost demanding stare, hypnotizing in the fear and trust of someone about to make the largest leap of faith of their lives.
He was still tense, but Kiri figured he'd be able to remedy that.
He leaned in and kissed Kumo hard, with such vicious passion that it took his brother completely off guard. Unable to keep up by contesting Kiri's demanding intrusion with his own need, Kumo just lay still, stunned into sinking unresisting into the mattress, gasping fitfully whenever Kiri gave him the chance to come up for air. Some part of him was aware that Kiri was skillfully diverting his attention from the brutal shock of the conjoining of their bodies, but the fierceness of their kiss was blotting out everything else from Kumo's mind.
I'm in over my head, he thought weakly, then let out a short surprised cry as he felt Kiri thrust into him.
"That didn't hurt so much, did it?" Kiri asked him almost absently, then did it again. Kumo's body jerked beneath his in a sudden inward arch as he took another uneven gasp for breath, and he found himself squeezing his eyes shut again.
"Niisama—"
"Kumo, whether you like it or not, you are going to take, and take, and take, until I break you and you give me everything," Kiri whispered. "Open your eyes. I want you to be looking at me when we fall apart."
Kumo did, just as Kiri caught him by surprise with another, deeper thrust. Kiri's eyes were dark and treacherous, the love in them tainted by avarice. "Niisama, I—"
"Shut up and let me do things to you."
Kumo let out a slow, almost pained moan as Kiri slammed him into the mattress again.
Their bodies fit together like they had been made specifically for this. Kumo was tight, and the friction between the two of them intensely erotic, but not as tight as Kiri had first expected—each time he recovered from a thrust, their flesh slid together like silk, and that was somehow even better. They'd built into a rhythm now, with Kiri breathing hard and shallowly and Kumo moaning wordlessly, the occasional squeak of bedsprings punctuating the ebb and flow of their joined bodies.
And Kiri could feel his control slipping. "Kumo… say my name."
"Niisama…"
"My name," Kiri commanded, his voice cracked and urgent.
Kumo was silent for a moment, gasping, but as his brother crushed him viciously to the bed, he cried out, winding his legs tightly about Kiri's waist. "Ugh… Kiri…"
"Again," came the hoarse and breathless whisper.
"Kiri!"
And Kiri shattered.
The orgasm was brutal, and Kiri's throes wickedly violent. Pinning Kumo's wrists against the mattress, he let his free hand rove over his brother's sensitive skin, oblivious to Kumo's desperate pleas for mercy—pleas that exploded into repeated cries of Kiri's name as those demonically inventive fingers slid down to his groin.
It didn't take much. Kiri was just starting to enjoy the heat of Kumo's flesh against his hand when his brother's body curled inwards and his eyes went blank, entirely blind with pleasure. He came hard as he struggled against Kiri's confining grip and his hips pistoned wildly, crying out long and desperately.
For a moment, Kiri thought that it would never be over, as the pleasure grew too intense for either of them to bear. The next moment, it ended.
He collapsed over his brother's body, his long hair a dead, clinging weight against his sweat-soaked back. He could feel Kumo's still-frantic heartbeat against his shoulder as the young swordsman's chest rose and fell in jagged, stilted motions.
"I love you," he found the strength to breathe.
"Niisama…" Kumo struggled to reply, his words half-moan.
And that was all Kiri heard before pure exhaustion drew its black folds around him.
(TBC)