Adam and Eve
A Sequel to After the Fall
by Kit Spooner
Warnings: If you were too young to read After the Fall, then you're too young to read this. Go read one of my other fics. Or better yet, go write something of your own. This fic features lots of sex, heavy consumption of alcohol, abuse of marijuana, periodic foul language, a few bouts of intense, sexual violence, and the usual doses of angst, WAFF, and OOCness. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Bah! I don't own CCS. I also don't own October Project's song, "Adam and Eve."
Additional Notes: Most of this chapter has been written for months, I just kind of forgot about it. When digging through old files after posting the latest chapter of "Laid," I discovered this, finished up the last little bit, did some minor edits, and slapped it up on FF.N. So it's . . . kind of haphazard. Commentary is appreciated.
Part Two
And God said
The reason had hung from the tree
But I feel the reason hanging on me
I'm free of my innocence
Falling too far
I'm helpless to change
I'm hopelessly lost
I'm all that you are
It was, perhaps, a good thing that Tomoyo passed out almost immediately upon entering the Land Rover. The drive down to the chateau took Eriol and his unconscious lover up into the mountains via winding, gut-wrenching roads that twisted around sheer cliffs and eased perilously close to wispy waterfalls. Eriol would have appreciated the breathtaking vistas a lot more had he not been concentrating so hard on staving off nausea and keeping the vehicle on the road. It didn't help that he was tired and irritable and horny as hell.
Tomoyo slept on, blissfully unaware of the glares Eriol was periodically sending her way.
They reached the chateau several hours later. Tomoyo was still sleeping, her last tiny bottle of vodka clutched adorably between her curled hands. Eriol was furious.
"God dammit!" He slammed the door behind him and then stomped over to Tomoyo's side of the Land Rover. "How the hell can she still be asleep!"
Eriol ended up tossing Tomoyo over his shoulder and dragging her into the house and up the stairs before flinging her rather ungraciously on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom. She mumbled something about sweet boys with dirty mouths, then rolled over and began to snore softly. This certainly didn't help Eriol's vile mood.
When he returned to the car to haul their luggage inside he discovered that it had started to rain. He strode outside to yank the boot of the car open and pull out the bags.
"Fuck," he muttered as his glasses promptly fogged up.
The slate-gray sky rumbled in response and the rain began to come down harder.
Daidouji is going to be in a lot of trouble when she wakes up, Eriol decided as he slogged through the deepening mud, toting as many bags as possible. He couldn't quite carry all the luggage at once, but he managed to get most of it inside before the lightning began to flash. That girl owes me big time. And I know how I want repayment.
But Eriol was a patient sort of man, having spent a ridiculous number of years as an eleven-year-old while he waited for Sakura to show up. He could handle waiting for Tomoyo to wake up and, more importantly, sober up. So he settled himself on the covered porch, rolled a joint, and smoked pensively as he stared out into the impenetrable New Zealand mist.
For the umpteenth time, he asked himself what he thought he was doing here, thousands of miles away from either of his homes, co-habitating with a girl he had to admit he barely knew, despite their recent affair. Tomoyo was as much of an enigma as she'd ever been, to Eriol. She just didn't work the way the rest of the world seemed to. Which was why it seemed so very bizarre to Eriol that she would seek solace in such a mundane vice as alcohol. He'd taken her for the more exotic type, as far as debaucheries went.
Yet Tomoyo was far more inventive in bed than Eriol had ever anticipated. Eriol had the equivalent of centuries of periodic sexual experience to draw from, but Tomoyo was simply a natural. He knew, through inference and a few careful questions, that while Eriol was certainly not her first, Tomoyo was not what one would call 'experienced.' Yet she was fearless in the bedroom, innovative and adventurous, despite her demure socialite exterior. And the fact that she was heartbreakingly beautiful certainly helped.
Her beauty frightened him, though. It was somehow both fragile — like delicate, brittle shell — and tremendously strong and durable. Even as a child, she'd never seemed quite human to him, not quite of this world. And the newly-sharp angles of her face were painted pale, the colors of the mists that seemed so prevalent down in the mountains. Her hair was his favorite of her many lovely features though, sweeping behind her like a dusky veil, thick and silky enough that he tended to find his fingers tangled through it when he wasn't paying attention. Oh, yes, it made an elegant hand-hold, when he was holding her still for his kisses, or pulling her face sharply toward him, her lips darting across his heated flesh — her tongue — his hips bucking as she drew him deep, cradling him in the warmth of her mouth . . .
The only times her skin was ever warm to the touch was when they were having sex, he realized. Her flesh was generally cool against his sometimes-feverish heat; her hands were downright cold.
The rain, by now, had slaked off and some sort of broad-winged bird was soaring out over the valley the chateau overlooked, a hawk or something, he supposed. It looked so wild and peaceful and balanced. Eriol watched the bird for several minutes, wondering if hawks ever had to deal with cold, beautiful females who were hard on the heart and the mind, if undeniably easy on the eyes.
Eriol vaguely remembered reading somewhere that hawks mated for life.
He quickly pushed the thought away and stubbed out the brief remains of his joint before his fingers were burned. He continued to gaze out over the pearl-gray and green valley, but fell asleep barely too soon to see the second hawk join the first in a spiraling dance upwards through the gentle, sun-warmed thermals.
Tomoyo awoke groggy and disoriented on an enormous bed that was not her own. It was a few heart-stopping moments of panic before she remembered where she was and more importantly, why.
Hiiragizawa.
New Zealand.
And most important of all, a place with plenty of privacy where they could revel in the pleasures of the flesh as much as they wanted.
Mouth curving into a slightly lascivious smile, she hauled herself out of bed, ran a hand ineffectively through her hair, then padded off barefoot in search of something to drink. It took less time than she expected, since it appeared as though Eriol kept a fully-stocked wet-bar at this chateau, despite the fact that he claimed to neither drink nor visit New Zealand often. She selected a bottle of Cuervo and a small, cobalt-blue glass and headed off in search of a good place to drink.
Eriol himself was missing, but she eventually discovered him asleep on the porch, his head cocked at an uncomfortable-looking angle and his hair ruffled by the breeze. The remains of three smoked cigarettes were smashed into the railing and the slowly fading scent of marijuana filled her nostrils. Tomoyo sighed and sat down opposite him by the steps, leaning against one of the wooden supports and pouring herself a glass of liquor.
Still Eriol slept, even after three glasses of tequila. Growing bored and a little flirty, Tomoyo amused herself by snaking her feet up against him, running her toes up his leg, pausing briefly to nudge his crotch, then continuing to move up. It was only when she decided to see if she could remove his necktie using only her feet that he began to stir. She immediately let her feet drop to the floor next to him and waited patiently for him to finish waking.
He blinked blearily at her. "Drinking again?" he asked, a little petulantly.
Tomoyo frowned. "I was just a little thirsty," she defended, gazing at him through her eyelashes. That was something she'd learned worked very well on him.
"You're a drunk, Daidouji," he declared, looking just as disagreeable as Tomoyo felt.
"I am not, you asshole," she replied scathingly. "Though I'm not the only one to be indulging in a bit of vice," she noted, nudging the remains of the joints with her toe.
This time, he actually growled at her. From most people it might have sounded a bit absurd, but from Eriol it was somehow menacing. She was startled into pulling her feet back towards herself.
"You know nothing about my vices, woman," he snarled. In a single, fluid motion he lunged and was suddenly very close, his breath heating her face. She had no idea that he could move that fast. She also realized how angry he was.
"Hiiragizawa-kun . . ." Tomoyo leaned away from him and felt the solid bulk of the wooden support hard against her back. She shivered in the clammy air and watched as Eriol glanced down at her legs, haphazardly bared as her calf-length skirt was hiked up nearly to her hips, shoulders and collarbone exposed, camisole straps askew. She felt her breasts prickle in reaction, both fear and desire welling in her chest and fluttering like a trapped bird.
He fell upon her like a starving man, mouth fastening to hers as his hands slid quickly up her legs to bare her hips. Her head cracked back against the column of the porch and for a moment she was disoriented by his closeness and the reek of marijuana in his hair. Detachment allowed her to realize that she didn't have much choice of what would happen next, even should she fight against Eriol's onslaught. Instead, once her dizziness cleared, she pushed back and bent to bite his earlobe sharply.
They weren't making love, she realized dimly. It was more of a battle, a violent give-and-take.
Eriol tore her skirt up the side in his eagerness to divest her of it and her small, sharp fingernails tore into the skin of his back in retaliation, drawing a small amount of blood. He hurt her in the process of their joining, and she hurt him right back with teeth and nails and blows to the ribs.
Part-brawl, part-sex, the debacle didn't take very long and by the time they separated, panting and disheveled and still mostly dressed, their various wounds were beginning to ache in response to the cool air of the mountains.
"Oh, shit," Eriol muttered as he felt around for his glasses.
"Ow," Tomoyo added in her usual soft tones. The lump on the back of her head was throbbing in time with her overactive heartbeat.
Once his glasses were returned to their proper perch atop his nose, Eriol began examining himself for damage and surreptitiously doing the same to his erstwhile lover. He noticed a surprising handful of long, dark hair the color of smoke that he seemed to have grabbed during the fracas.
"Sorry about your hair," he told her.
"You're worried about my hair?" Tomoyo murmured in disbelief. "I don't think I'll be able to walk straight for a week." Her head was bent as she examined the bruises rising on her breasts and arms. Her hair served its usual purpose, veiling her expression from prying eyes.
Eriol's expression twisted. "Are you alright, Daidouji?" he asked, his voice crackling with worry. "I didn't mean to hurt you I just . . . lost control briefly."
Tomoyo tilted her face up, revealing a slightly sheepish smile. "I know, Hiiragizawa, I know. I hurt you back just as much." She reached out and touched his swollen lower lip where she'd bitten him rather hard. "Maybe coming down here was a bad idea?"
Eriol sighed and ran a hand over his ribs, making sure none had been broken by her small, hard punches. "You might be right, Daidouji," he agreed wearily, suddenly too tired to truly deal with what they'd just done.
They sat crumpled next to each other on the porch for a long time, not speaking as they stared out over the deep valley below. A thick-frosted mist hung heavy above trees so green they were nearly black, lending the scene a strangely monochromatic feel to it: white over gray over black.
"I don't want to leave," Tomoyo said abruptly, slouching closer to Eriol's warmth. "I like it down here. And I like you."
"But we'll just hurt each other more, Daidouji," Eriol reminded her sadly.
"We only do that when emotions come into the picture," Tomoyo replied. "Or when I've been drinking too much."
"Or when I'm stoned," Eriol added.
"Chemical dependency aside, Hiiragizawa," Tomoyo continued. "We just need to remember to keep our relationship . . . well, platonic."
"I usually don't sleep with my platonic friends," Eriol noted with a faint note of humor in his voice.
"You know what I mean," Tomoyo snapped, both irritable and amused. "I'm not ready for you to be anything more than a good friend and . . . well . . ."
"Fuckbuddy?" Eriol suggested.
"I suppose that works," Tomoyo admitted. "I can't think of anything less vulgar to describe what we do." She shrugged. "Whatever we are, we're not in a romantic relationship. You don't love me and I don't love you."
"I'm no Sakura," Eriol agreed.
"And I'm nothing like Kaho," Tomoyo shot back. "I'm Daidouji Tomoyo, and not your love. I'm barely your friend, most of the time."
"You wound me, dearest," Eriol teased lightly.
"And pet-names won't do either," Tomoyo added firmly. "We are not in love and we will not be falling in love, Hiiragizawa." Her expression was intense and serious as she paused to stare him down. "And I can tell that despite your joking, you understand."
"I promise not to fall in love with you," Eriol told her with a faint smile that almost reached his eyes.
"And I promise not to fall in love with you," Tomoyo echoed before breathing a deep sigh of relief.
"So I guess this means we're actually friends now," Eriol murmured, absently rubbing his bruised ribs.
"Yes, Hiiragizawa," Tomoyo said. "And if you think you can go without a smoke for the whole evening, I'll stay sober enough to cook us both dinner." She gingerly picked herself up off the wooden veranda.
Eriol hauled himself to his feet. "You've got yourself a deal, Daidouji."
Later, as Eriol poured tea to accompany Tomoyo's slapdash sandwiches, he wondered why he didn't feel more hurt over Tomoyo's roundabout rejection of him. It was unusual experience for someone to be worried that he was going to fall in love and make an ass of himself. That usually wasn't the way it happened.
He glanced at Tomoyo and watched her take very small bites of sandwich. She really was quite pretty and completely heartless.
Kind of like him.
Eriol wondered how long they could remain safely wrapped in their warm, consequence-free cocoon down here at the bottom edge of the world.
When he finished his tea, he carefully avoided reading the answer in the leaves scattered along the bottom of his mug.
I've fallen from all I know
To keep you here
I need you here
I wonder how far to go
Without you here
Final Note: Again, this is low on my priorities and I don't know when I'll get around to finishing it. There's probably a chapter or two to go, but don't hold your breath. I'm slow and lazy.