Author's Note: This is placed vaguely in the beginning of the series, and may even slightly be A/U. Honestly, it was more just a drabble written because I love the titular word and its connection to Dio for me.
Last Exile is copyright to GONZO and Victor Entertainment. Only my obsession with it is my own.
im·preg·na·ble
adj.
1. Impossible to capture or enter by force: an impregnable fortress.
2. Difficult or impossible to attack, challenge, or refute with success: an impregnable argument.
Claus groaned and dropped his forearm over his eyes as he collapsed onto his bunk, although he was too tense to attempt to sink into the less-than-soft mattress. He felt at a loss, as though he were whipping about with as little control as a feather in the Grand Stream, no longer even entirely certain which way was up. For once, he was grateful that Lavie had formed the tentative bond with Mullin and was currently working with him in the hangar; he didn't want her to see him so weak, so doubtful when she seemed to look at him so often for assurance. He'd left Alvis swinging idly in the room Sophia had set aside for her, creeping stealthily away and successfully gaining his bunk with no one the wiser.
He hadn't been tired, and so it was a surprise to find himself jarred from sleep by the shift of the mattress as another's weight settled on it. Sometime during his unexpected nap, he'd turned onto his side, knees bent slightly until they touched the wall he faced; it was behind him that the mattress dipped, and Claus suspected, with a curl of dread in his belly, that he knew who had joined him.
Warm breath feathered over his cheek as an arm wrapped snugly around his waist and his visitor spooned against his back, lean muscle hard against his through the layers of their clothes. "I missed you, Immelmann."
Claus squeezed his eyes closed, holding his breath as though it could make the heat against his back disappear or, perhaps, make it be Lavie, playing a rather mean joke. He could feel the warm palm splayed over his belly, the reach of the fingers far too long for the redhead, and he could feel a nervous laugh bubbling up in his throat as his mind cycled through other possibilities - Alister, Tatiana, Mullin, Alex - with increasing hysteria. The laugh caught in his throat as the hand ran higher, pressing firmly against his chest to bring his back in closer contact with the body behind him, a tickle of almost-contact against his ear as a soft laugh was breathed there. "Leave me alone," he managed weakly, thickly, lingering sleep conspiring with his nerves to leave him sounding less than convincing.
"Nonsense, Immelmann. I haven't had so much fun in a long time."
Claus opened his eyes, looking down slightly at the gloved hand resting against his chest, the white and black in sharp relief against his drab flightsuit. "I told you: my name's not Immelmann. It's--"
He'd forgotten again the speed in those slim digits, starting in surprise as they pressed against his lips, two fingers stilling their motion. Claus's head rocked back, nearly whacking into Dio's - he would admit it now, could no longer lie to himself - nose, which was saved only by those same reflexes as Dio matched his movement, laughing breathily again as his fingers slid away to instead stroke over Claus's collarbone.
"Immelmann. Until I win it from you." They fell still again, Claus's breathing short and sharp although the man at his back made no further move, simply pressing against him as though desperate for simple human contact. It continued for so long that Claus thought at last that the other boy had fallen asleep and began to slowly relax, only to yelp when Dio's lips closed around the rim of his ear, a hot sweep of his tongue defining the curve of cartilage.
Dio could not hold him this time as Claus leapt away, only the wall stopping him as he sat upright with his back pressed to it, eyes wide as he stared into the grey orbs that regarded him so coolly. One leg was still entwined with Dio's and he guiltily jerked it away, tucking it under him as his gaze flickered about, trying to find a way out of the bunk that didn't involve going over the pale boy who still sprawled on the edge, blinking in offended confusion. Dio sat up slowly, leaning toward Claus and ignoring the whimper that squeaked from the other boy's throat as he shifted toward him again, his arms lifting leisurely to wind around Claus's neck, his face settling in the warm hollow of Claus's throat.
"Mm, Immelmann. You are most entertaining." He laughed again, a soft huff of air, as Claus ceased attempting to climb the wall, instead stiffening with what could only be offense. His lips smoothed over the column of Claus's throat, a brief caress as he sat back to meet the other boy's eyes, his own heavy-lidded with teasing. "You looked so charming in your sleep, I couldn't resist, but I have to go meet with the captain now." Before Claus could react, he leaned forward again, skimming his cheek against Claus's, then slipped with boneless grace to stand beside the bed. A kiss graced his fingertips, blown to Claus before he turned to exit the room as noiselessly as he had entered it.
Claus relaxed slowly, rubbing his hand absently over his cheek, then his throat, where he could still feel the imprint of Dio's lips. He grimaced as he recalled the press of Dio's body to his own, the alien, uncomfortable heat, and shook his head as though the action alone could quell his confusion, then ran one hand through his hair, fingers tightening in the pale locks as he squeezed his eyes closed again. Alvis, the Silvana, Alex: none of them could unsettle him like the pale Guild member, leaving him without a navigator as he flew through the skies of bewilderment. The boy was a puzzle, an impregnable, wicked puzzle that Claus hoped never to solve, not if it meant that he'd have to endure his molestations.
Shivering, Claus pushed himself from the bunk, suddenly desirous of the noise of the hangar after all.