KYOTEN CRAP 5 (やおい): There's Always A First Time
A/N: WARNING! LIME, BL, TOUCHY-TOUCHY STUFF NO LIKE NO READ WAHAAHHAHH PARDON MY WATEVER FANFIC JUST ENJOY :P
"Alright, here's the plan," Aitor says as he unrolls the old map on the large table. A fresh path was marked in red, crossing through the mountains and ending up at the center which was illustrated as a temple shrouded by mist.
"These four mountains are the Four Sacred Runes," he continues, "and each location contains a part of either of the two instruments. There are obviously trials. To make things worse, there are what we call the Celestial Sentinels who are guarding the gates. And they have powers that could kill thousands with just a snap of the finger.
"As you can see, the path in red marks our course. Gabriel and I are the ones who know the area the most, and we came to the conclusion that this is the safest route."
"Can't we just cut right through here right after the last Sacred Rune?"
Riccardo asks as he points to a region marked as the Lost Overgrowth.
"It's not safe, Rick. It's called what it is for a reason. The jungle is so thick that no light can penetrate it, and the trees and roots are so twisted that no one's ever found a clear road, nor made it out alive," Gabriel answers.
"Don't forget the wild beasts lurking about," a tall, curly haired male adds in.
"But Sam Gook, we'd lose precious time if we take the original path," Jean-Pierre points out.
"I still think that we should trust Aitor and Gabriel on this one," he replies with conviction.
"Well, it's up to the de facto leader. Victor?"
Rick turns to the indigo-haired boy who is taking a sip of his cider.
"I honestly believe that time is of the essence here, and I doubt those folk stories about the forest. But if we try to make our way through the forest, Han is correct in the assumption that there may be creatures that may impede us. And there are no tales whatsoever of anything being discovered about the woods. So it is best to use the first path."
The rest of the team agrees, and they further discuss strategies and supplies until the moon was shining far up in the sky, signaling the time to hit the hay. One by one, they file out, scattering towards their respective chambers.
"Follow me. I'll show you to your room."
Arion looks up to see Victor paused at the doorway. He didn't know how the other seemed like he could read minds easily. Was that one of his abilities?
So he does as he is told, wandering through the halls after the vampire. It was as if he knew the place by heart. They walk along the carpeted halls in silence until they reach the end of the hall with a door that was slightly chipped but was in a good condition nonetheless. Upon opening it, the midfielder sees a room that looked much like the one he stayed in the past few days, with the same motif of velvet and marble. As he examines the room, he notices that the furniture looked dustless, but scarcely used as well. It was decorated sparsely and monotonously except for one personal item on the bedside table which he picks up. On it were the smiling faces of two very young children, as if they didn't have a care in the world.
He immediately recognizes them as Victor and Vladimir. But he also notices that in the picture, Vladimir lacked the cane he was always seen with in the paintings along the hallways and even up to now.
'Is that the injury they were all talking about?'
Arion wonders hard as he stares at the photo.
"This used to be my room. And that used to be my childhood."
The soccer player is startled, almost dropping the fragile frame. He turns to see Victor's back as he spoke even a little of his life. He wanted to know more, but only silence issued forth. And he took it as a sign not to pry, so he simply makes a sound of acknowledgement.
For a moment no one moves. It's just the two of them again, but in that face that was so far away just remembering what is gone, Arion could see his human side again. So close to touch.
"I must go now. Have a good night's rest; you will need it."
With those words he goes off again, coat blazing in the moonlight, but the brunette knew that if had to ask one thing, it would be the words at the tip of his tongue.
"Victor—!"
Both stop abruptly, one in his words, the other in his tracks.
"What is it?"
He hadn't forgotten about rule number one, but he needed to take this chance.
"Why…why am I here? What am I for? Please, I have the right to know!"
There is a pause, as if contemplating whether to reveal the truth or not. Though the boy himself is unsure if he really wanted to know.
"You will know when it is time."
He answers with a voice barely above a whisper, and goes off again just like that, disappearing into the night.
"Victor—wait!"
Arion bolts after him, stopping a few feet outside the door to realize that he was gone.
And this time, Arion truly felt alone.
He needs to breathe but he can't.
He forces his mouth to open wider, trying to breathe in more air to supply himself with the oxygen that burned faster than his rate of intake. The pain was like fire fueled by poison, scorching him slowly as it shot through his veins.
And when the pain almost subsided, it retracted and came back twice at full force, making him cry out in pain. He could feel it, his body throbbing as it escalated, faster, stronger. And he can't help but scream, scream and drawl out incoherent words mixed with moans that only revealed more and more of his growing desire towards such an act. He could hardly remember the pain being ever there, thinking only of the pleasure overwhelming him as that perfect beat rocked in tandem with his body. And he was so close, so close that two became one, so close that he could've sworn that his skin lit up with electricity and set that spark off like the legendary Hiroshima bomb.
His body refused to resist, complying to the display of power that commanded his submission (to which he'd gladly oblige) and satisfying every deranged fantasy one after the other.
Every groan spelled content, every snap of his hips as he lifted those legs and raised that volume even higher brought the fulfillment of this appetite no closer at all. The tension was swelling in between their bodies, suffocating him because it felt so good, so sinful yet so right to be panting like this and chanting his name to turn him on even more. And his mouth exhaled hot breaths of caramel apples, tasting so sweet, so sweet like this forbidden intimacy, yet he can't take it, he wants to be his, he wants to be claimed, he wants to be called names meant for a pet, he wants to call him—
"—RISE AND SHINEEEE, sleepyhead!"
A different voice, one he could've sworn he never heard before, wakes him up. He rubs his eyes tiredly, vision blurry until it focuses on the pink-haired girl from yesterday. Judging from the emerald eyes, the green hair ornaments, and the blue green skirt, he could see that she wasn't named Jade Greene for nothing.
"Come on," she says while shaking him incessantly, "hurry up or you'll miss breakfast!"
"Okay, I'll—I'll be there in a while."
He didn't want to get up just yet, and he exhales a sigh of utter relief when she exits the room. When he slowly peels off the blanket, he gasps silently, panicking and muttering under his breath at his current predicament. He thanks the heavens that he bathroom was inside the room itself, otherwise he'd be screwed. After cleaning up, hiding his soiled clothes and beddings somewhere in the laundry, he prays that the dresser has something in it, and luckily it does. Although the outfit is strange, he somehow had the feeling that he would wear something like it at one point.
A long-sleeved shirt with a pair of decent short pants attached to it is topped by a dark vest with silver buttons and snaps, similar to Victor's fashion. A ruffled neckerchief that very much fit the theme was also included, with a pair of shoes and long socks next to the set. In the drawer he discovers everything he needs; undergarments, other articles of clothing, and more. A note is also taped on the door's inside.
Dearest Arion,
"Feel enlightened to use anything and explore anywhere in the house. You are our guest of honor. Just ask for my assistance if ever I may be of any help."
Yours Truly,
Vladimir
He didn't know what to say. He was surprised at the hospitality showed by both brothers during his entire stay in the foreign land. But it is no time for dilly dallying; the others were waiting. So in a haste he tries to throw on the outfit with much difficulty, unknowing of where to put this and that and how exactly to put them on. He gives up altogether anyway, just putting on the necessities and looping the neckerchief over the buttoned vest the best way he could while trying to copy how Victor probably put it on. When he deems himself decent, he takes a glance at the mirror, and it surprisingly takes him almost everything to convince himself that he looked "just fine".
It was no surprise to him when everyone was trying to contain their whispers and laughter in vain once he stepped in the dining banquet. Cheeks turning red, he does his best not to mind as he walks to his place and begins eating after his short prayer. After the meal, he stands up to leave, but spots a familiar boy supported by his trademark hand carry. So he jogs to the balcony to join him.
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
Vladimir looks up only to smile and make a welcoming gesture, patting the seat beside him. They sit side by side, staring at the peaceful morning sky until Vladimir speaks up.
"I know that you have a lot of questions. So go on, ask away."
Arion is baffled. Maybe mind reading is really a skill that runs in the Blade family. Or maybe he was just so obvious.
He had so many questions to be answered, that he didn't know what to ask first. So he started with the basics.
"What is this place? Who are the people that you keep talking about? Why did you bring me here?"
Vladimir sighs. He takes a deep breath before he begins.
"This place is called the Empty Page. It is called so because anything and everything can happen. The rules change everyday. One day, the animals could be roaming around harmoniously and the next, even mythical creatures such as the 'werewolves' can sprout forth and kill everything, unlike your homeland Earth.
"The people we're talking about are called the Pentasect. They are a mysterious community governed by an evil sorceress named Alexandra Zabelle. She wants to take absolute control over this place so that she can rewrite the future, past, and present anytime, eventually being able to control the entire world before consuming the Galaxy."
A pause, the tension is lingering.
"As for you…Zabelle is after you."
"…What?!"
He sputters out after a moment of shock, standing up as if ready to bolt as far away from this place as he can in hopes that he'd get to Tokyo.
"Calm down, you're safe here."
Vladimir reassures him, coaxing him to sit. When the boy does, he continues.
"This place is an alternate dimension to yours. We all live on the same ground, but we do not see your world, nor do you see ours. However, nighttime is when the Empty Page truly comes to life; we, the umbra corpus or the 'counterparts' of your people become visible to only selected people in your group. The Millenia Luna Ritua, as the name suggests, is an event that only comes around in a thousand years, and during that time, the two worlds become one, allowing us to see your world, and allowing you to see ours for a period of time. That is also the time when the Celestial Aurorae of Deus appears. It is said to be the very fabric of this universe, the ultimate source of power, where everything is born and where everything returns to.
"By using the Sacred Moon Mirror and the Holy Lunar Chalice, which are also part of the Deus Relics, anyone can extract the essence of this unfathomable energy, and when absorbed, can bestow on that being the power of this universe. All things will be in the hands of that creature. And to make things worse, that power extends beyond the Empty Page— it will spread to the other dimensions, including Earth, and soon—the whole Galaxy."
Vladimir pauses to pour a glass of water for Arion, who looks pale enough that he might need a drink.
"However," he continues, "the power cannot be transferred just like that. The heavens require a tribute. Only through a Seraph—and the purest one at that—can the power be channeled."
He takes a deep and shaky breath before he says the rest.
"And that Seraph is you."
"…me?… An angel?…"
At this he is completely at a loss for words. He leans back in his chair, eyes void of emotion, lost in thought. How he wished that it was just a funny dream and that he could go home! But he knew that he wouldn't have a decent night of sleep if he didn't clarify everything.
"How about your legs? Why and how did Victor end up with Zabelle?"
"Both of us loved to play football when we were younger."
The midfielder's eyes widen with shock and delight at the sport. It comforted him somewhat, giving him courage and hope because at least he could relate somehow and at least there was one thing that didn't sound scary.
"But one day…our ball fell into the river. Victor tried to reach it, but he fell into the river too."
It was Vladimir's turn to become scared. The fear never left him, etched into his bones, making him tremble and stammer.
"He—he was too young; he couldn't swim. He was drowning, calling for me, I could still remember the way he screamed for help, and I immediately dove in and looked for him despite the raging current. I braved the tide, and I almost thought I lost the one dearest to me, until saw his body drifting farther along with the current, sinking to the bottom. So I swam as fast as I could, grabbing it successfully and nearly bringing him to safety until it happened. My back hit a jagged rock trying to shield him from anything in the river. A sudden sharp pain filled my limbs and I cried aloud in agony, legs crippling and altogether feeling heavy, due to numbness or the paralysis taking effect I do not know, but I hurled my brother on the shore before grasping at a low-lying branch to pull myself up in spite of the torture my body was going through. Victor recovered quickly and got the medics, but they said that soccer…soccer would be taken away from me."
He couldn't say anything. Whatever hopes he had up were suddenly crushed, and Arion was filled with overwhelming sorrow and pity for his fellow converser. He couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like to not be able to play soccer anymore when one loves it so much.
"My brother felt that he was responsible for what happened. So when Zabelle offered to treat my condition in exchange for his services, my brother agreed without a second thought. And I'm still disappointed at him for that. I didn't ask him to do those things for me."
"I…I'm sorry…"
Vladimir could only offer a rueful smile.
"It's okay. What's done is done."
He stands up to leave. And the other does the same.
"I do enjoy chatting with you, but I regret to inform you that we must be on the move. Hurry and make the necessary preparations; we will leave shortly."
So Arion is left to amble along the halls, all the way up to his room. But as they say, surprises just keep getting better.
"Take off your clothes."
"What?!—"
The now even more mysterious figure gets off where he was leaning on the wall, walking over to him with arms crossed and towering over the smaller one by more than just a few inches. He reaches behind the boy to slide the bar into place, shutting both of them out from nosy visitors. And he withdraws slowly, pausing to repeat the words in his ear.
"Take off your clothes," he says again as he grips Arion's neckerchief, loosening it easily in the process.
Arion backs up against the door, pressing himself as close as possible to the wood in hopes that it would open if he leaned hard enough. Those golden pools are burrowing into him again, and Fear comes back for another visit, making his breath hitch as that awfully glorious body was flush against his own, and the boy could feel underneath all those layers of clothing every angle formed from that smooth stomach he longed to trace down far below the belt.
"N-no…get away from me!"
He wails, shoving against his captor's chest in an attempt to get him off (he just doesn't want Victor to notice the growing need in his shorts anytime soon). But at the same time, he just wants to touch the lean muscle that flexed so handsomely with his every movement. And in the midst of his erotic fantasizing he doesn't take notice when Victor's hands tug off the neckerchief and undo all the clasps of his half-done attire, and more importantly, the gesture of surrender his body language emitted.
He once again attempts to push the other away, but somehow his hands just get caught up in the fabric of the coat, twirling shapes as his shaking legs kick off his shoes just to ward off the weakening feeling spreading from his lower regions to the rest of his extremities. As if things couldn't get worse, the henchman's hands roam even lower down his skinny waist to the buckle guarding his "business". And he couldn't help but whimper quietly when the heat from the leather sliding around his waist only adds up to the uncomfortable protrusion starting to become more visible. Though scared, his curiosity and uncontrollable desire to touch the beast in front of him forces him to prepare himself for the possibility of baring himself naked to such an enchanting stranger, and he lets go of the coat to begin undoing the buttons of his own shirt. That is, until the other immediately gets off, a smirk on those pale lips.
"Idiot. You don't even know how to wear the clothes my brother gave you," he comments offhandedly whilst burying his fingers inside Arion's almost soiled shorts to expose a large patch of skin just below his navel. They easily slip past his thighs, laying in a wrinkled heap at his sock-clad feet.
He then steps back to admire the view of a flushed Arion, red all up to his cheeks and panting like a dog (a pathetic little street dog if you'd ask him), with only a baggy shirt pried open to cover that bantam but uptight pre-puberty body screaming virginity as it led down to those fetishizing hipbones which were nothing when compared to the aching self-explanatory erectile condition the adolescent was manifesting even if the need to hide it was no less than the need to release it. And the inhuman one didn't deny the fact that he was turned on by this salacious but sumptuous feast for the eyes, his gaze overtly probing that sight up and down like the captive was an exotic species at a private zoo.
So he runs a finger along the skin, racing down to the waistband of the thin underwear leading to the brunette's crotch and eliciting soft yet strangled sounds mixed with pleading, debating whether or not he was going to pull it down. He was here just to help him dress after all. A short-lived laugh of malice runs free when he imagines the sweet Seraph moaning and whining like a pet that had a good whipping as he continued to annihilate the boy by taking away his purity right then and there. Then Arion would be no different from the disgusting and filthy creatures on Earth—a human—or more accurately, a fallen angel.
However, realizing what his ludicrous attempts might have done to the chances of saving his brother made him stop immediately and distance himself coolly.
"You're quite fortunate that your purpose has saved you," he remarks at the boy whose face is tear-stricken due to the overkill of anxiety. Victor then makes his way to the door, exiting quietly.
Unable to process what he had just done, he quickly covers himself with the shirt, folding it over protectively as he slides down the door. He could feel the beginning of tears prickling at the corners or his eyes; he was ashamed, revolted, disgusted at himself for savoring the intimacy he had with the delinquent, let alone allowing himself to be toyed with without objection. So he could only sit and cry, head buried in his knees, even if he couldn't take it back.
After what seems like hours or crying, he gets up, deciding that he needed a hot shower. A really hot one, just to calm him down. He then proceeds to taking off his clothes, leaving the all articles except for his underwear on the bed including the vest and neckerchief. He drops off his undergarments in the basket and hops into the shower, turning the tap to nearly maximum heat. As the scorching relief rains down on him, he smiles, loving the feeling that he got from the water as if it was cleansing him of the dirt from his inappropriate act a while ago. As he revels in the comfort, he faintly hears the door swing.
'Oh no! I forgot to close the door!'
He panics at first, but shrugs it off later thinking that it might just be his trauma of uninvited company. Not long after, he switches the knob off, wiping himself partially dry and slipping on the provided robe.
Then he returns to the bedroom to see the Minotaur of the Labyrinth.
"I'm back," he greets Arion who leaps back in shock, grabbing on the bedpost farther away from the pervert with quivering arms.
He laughs the same evil one that the midfielder was sure he'd hear everywhere and every time now, eyes never leaving his svelte stature and a rich bronze glistening with water drops from the shower.
As the intruder points to the bed, the scared Arion sees that the clothes are neatly folded, the set complete with new undergarments. And he had a feeling that what would come next as a sort of payment for this unasked favor would be satisfying to the greedy needs of the henchman.
"Dress up."
A command even as simple as that was something the boy couldn't follow. He felt like a puppet on strings, moving as his master decided; it was painful and humiliating but secretly he knows that he enjoys the attention from the same audience. Without arguing he turns his back to the other and begins dressing.
"Wait."
Arion stops obediently, listening for the next instruction.
"Take off your robe."
He shivers more than ever, doing as he is told and exposing his backside. But the view of that dynamite frame with the lanky shoulders and tiny curves leading to that taut ass and too perfect legs isn't enough.
"Face me."
Arion gasps, arms crossing over his torso protectively even if he knows he can't escape. But because he knew that this isn't the worst, he does so, unfolding his arms ever so slowly to reveal his identity like a flower forced to bloom out of season.
Victor remains speechless, eyes darting everywhere on that body that was so close but off-limits, wanting to touch it so bad that his untamed side couldn't bear this agony, but he suppresses it, forcing himself to be content with the sneak peek he demanded. Well, when you get something this good you'd want even more.
From that insanely flawless chest down to that lean, sans abs stomach just the way he liked it, he could barely contain himself from molesting his cute nipples. And he wasn't sure if he still had his sanity when he dared to venture further, because lo and behold, the angel's phallus hardening once again (from the cold air or the arousal he was getting at exhibiting his body on display, Victor doesn't know) and making him look like a creature depicted in those frescos, only a thousand times more attractive.
Curiosity kills the cat. And angels are the true test of temptation.