Fall from grace

By hye-kyo

Disclaimer: Nope, RK isn't mine.

Author's Notes: So I had not updated in a looooooooooooong while I know. And I am hoping this piece would appease most of you, if you're still there. Anyway, the Handmaid's Tale was the inspiration for this. Read it and be inspired too.

Read and review.

Title: Banal

Rating: M

Like her, his task was to reproduce. He sent her a long look from out of the corner of his eye. Unlike her though, the authorities were more lax with him. He was free to roam the city alone, provided he has a pass, provided he was wearing the proper attire, provided the guards weren't newbies. New ones tended to be stricter. A couple of newbies stationed at the West Gate shot one of them. He particularly didn't like the man though, but still they were of the same class.

Unlike her, he has more rights. Unlike her, he is a man.

Change came abruptly, like how things happen in the movies, long before movies were allowed, long before cinemas were open. He could still watch movies, they play movies at the Garden once every month. His class could, hers couldn't. The authorities say women should not watch movies, movies aren't important for reproduction.

But anyway, he glanced again at her and realized he couldn't see her face fully. The veil was covering too much of her. He wondered if she had blue eyes, he liked blue eyes. Once, once when men and women were allowed to mingle with each other.

He cleared his throat when the guard left. Now the task at hand. He turned fully to her. He was sure the guard had left them alone. At least they were granted that, a bit of privacy. But the guard wasn't very far off. Sex was for reproduction and nothing more. The guard was to make sure of that, any sound deemed unfitting would be reported and they both would be subjected to torture and worse, be hanged for state treason.

His eyes skimmed her, from her veiled face down her loose dress. All he saw was fabric. "I'm Kenshin," he started, it was a conversation he learned in the past when he was still a student at the university, when the world was still free to do anything. Now it was free from harm, or so they say. It was free from inequality, the state had been providing for everything. Freedom to explore one's own potentials had been given up to have freedom from Darwinian law. There was no survival-of-the-fittest, the state cares for everything.

It was two sides of the same coin: freedom to and freedom from. Both limiting. He read once, when they were still allowed to read, that real freedom was accepting the fact that you can't totally be free.

He looked up at her, took a step forward and stretched a hand to touch her veil. He wished she would have black hair. He liked black hair.

"Do you remember me?" a voice, a quiver, as if the voice hadn't been used in a long while, as if the owner of the voice had only started learning how to use it.

"Do I?" his eyes squinted, his hands now on her veil. He slowly eased it down.

"I am Kaoru," she whispered and took a step forward.

He liked blue eyes and black hair. How long has it been? "Kaoru." He touched her face.

"Stop," she said. "You are not supposed to touch my face."

"I have touched it many times before."

"That was before."

"We could bring before back here," his eyes were intent on her.

"But we couldn't—" and a kiss, a fiery, urgent kiss, breathless, awkward, like the first time, but honed, familiar like this is what they had been doing all their lives.

He walked her down the bed, fumbling with the dress she was wearing. He was familiar with everything underneath it yet all at once he felt exhilarated like it was the first time, nervous, excited, in love. After all these years, after all the changes.

"Kenshin," she murmured into his mouth as soon as he released her.

"Where have you been?"

"At the training center," she kissed his mouth slowly, a lingering hotness in her mouth and she whispered again, "I was in hiding when they caught me. They brought me to the training center. This household was my first."

"And the man of the house couldn't do it?" he knew of course. The old man and his wife needed a child. They were one of the elites, but elites as they are they couldn't produce an heir. This was a state of the old. Younger ones were only seen for reproduction.

"He couldn't. Not even once. From the beginning I was told. I knew it was you the moment I saw you pass the driveway."

He smiled, kissed her yet again and whispered, "Resistance is building underground."

"I know," she unbuttoned his shirt.

He slipped her out the dress. She was more beautiful, more alive and he remembered tasting every inch of her but he couldn't quite recall the taste of her in his mouth. He dipped slowly, teasing himself and just like he knew it, he almost lost himself in her taste.

She covered his mouth with hers to stifle his groan, "Kenshin."

"I love you," he traced the words in her mouth, like a brand, like a sculpture carved in rock. He knew it would never fade. "I will take you away before your contract ends here," he whispered, a caress on her skin. He brought one hand to touch her, and she writhed, a pained whimper from her mouth, the sounds she stifled by biting his shoulder.

"How?"

"Through the Resistance."

"That's dangerous," she whispered apologies to his skin, dipping her tongue to soothe the pain, holding him close to her, pressing her naked self more closely to him.

"No other man will touch you," he hissed, moving down her collarbone, down her breasts. He cupped one breast in his hand and remembered touching it, the feel of it, the weight of it.

"I hope I get pregnant," she prayed, closing her eyes as she felt him moving down.

"Of a boy," he smiled. He knew what they were doing was sacrilegious according to the rules. Sex was for reproduction, not pleasure. It was blasphemous to derive pleasure from it, state laws prohibit it. But he doesn't care, she was his and he was hers and his body cried for hers in just the same way that hers cried for his. He could feel her getting restless underneath him. He grabbed one thigh to settle her down.

"A boy that looks just like you. A little redhead," a smile formed on her mouth. Her voice broken. She tugged on him, pleading.

"With eyes like yours," he moved up, her body getting rigid. He hovered above her, kissed the top of her nose and whispered, "What would you name him?" Blood rushed to his ears as he started moving, one hand trapping hers above her head, one hand cupping her breast, his mouth skimming over her mouth, stifling both of their cries. He knew that after this, things would be back to their bleak state and that the dystopian dream, the utopian dream that went wrong, would continue to exist. This imperfect world that he and she were living now will be gone after this union.

"Kenji," she whispered back, "After you." She convulsed, her face flushed, beads of sweat on her forehead. She panted, tilted her face to beckon him to kiss her and moved her hands impatiently, telling him wordlessly to release her.

He had his mouth against her, his hand loosening its grip on her hands. He moved one hand down to cradle the back of her neck and pulled her closer for the kiss. He knew that whatever child they produce, the household will take it. She was merely to be a vessel, him a seed.

"Our time's almost up," she murmured, hearing footsteps.

"I know," he stood up, helped her on her feet and gathered her clothes. "I will take you away. Be ready."

"It's dangerous."

"Everything is. I will take you away and we will go back to how we were before."

"That sounds nice. I miss home."

"I miss you," and he took her once again in his arms, footsteps coming closer.

A/n: So how was it?