2009-01-25 21:25![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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code_geass
snowdevil-crow.livejournal.com in code_geassTitle: 'Comfort Me'
Pairing: Lelouch x Kallen
Rating: M/NC-17
Summary: "Then... comfort me." And what if she had accepted? An alternate take on Turn Seven. For now just a oneshot, but... with the possibility of continuing at some point. Maybe. Written for the kink meme. >_> (x-posted to Lelouch_Kallen comm)
“Then... comfort me.”
She gasped and stepped back as he stood, still staring at the ground. There was something terribly wrong about this, about the weak, defeated way he held himself. She wished she could see his eyes, hidden as they were beneath his bangs.
“... that’s a thing women can do, right?” he said, stepping forward and lifting a hand to tilt her chin up towards him.
She went very, very, still. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to slap him out of this, wanted to tell him stop it, stop it, you can’t show weakness, you’re Zero, you can’t be as human as this — ! Because for all she had long wanted... wanted something to bring him closer to her, she didn’t want it like this. She didn’t want him to be so weak as to beg her for such a thing.
He brought his face closer and she caught a glimpse of his eyes, half-shut and dazed from despair and lack of sleep. She swallowed.
Stop. You can’t be this weak — !
But she said and did nothing, only stood still and trembling as his lips opened just barely and pressed against hers, softly. His eyes slid shut as their mouths touched. Hers remained wide and staring, and she was acutely aware of his fingers on her chin, his bangs brushing her forehead, the tiny furrow in his brow — he pulled away after a moment, but not far.
You dick, that was my first kiss, she thought dully, and wondered if she should slap him for stealing it. I should. I should just go.
“Please.”
Just that one word, whispered with such desperation, and whatever resolve she’d had broke. She looked away, not wanting to see the desperation in his eyes, and bowed her head in acceptance. Even... even if she wasn’t sure that she wanted this now, of all times, the least she could do was try to help her commander. The least she could do was try to comfort a troubled friend.
There was a sigh, an exhalation of relief — he tilted her chin up again and kissed her, more forcefully this time. His hand trailed down her jaw-line to her neck, and she shivered at the cold, clammy feeling of his palm against the junction of her jaw and throat.
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to do this. His eyes were shut again, so she closed hers as well and concentrated instead on feeling. His lips were moving against hers, opening again — something wet ran across her bottom lip. His tongue, she realized a moment later, and, hesitantly, she opened her own mouth to allow it entrance.
It was somehow awkward, standing there in the alleyway with her head jerked upwards to meet his, unable to hold her hands out for balance, and his tongue moving curiously inside her mouth. She realized that she could actually taste him, and that it was not a nice taste — a sickening sweet and sour odour, and she wondered, ridiculously, if he had brushed his teeth recently —
She lost her balance a little, and stepped back so that her back was against the alley wall. He followed, still kissing her, and his other hand ran up her side and gripped lightly at the back of her head. She followed kind, hesitantly raising her hands to bury them in his hair. It was soft, and a little damp from sweat.
His thumb moved just a little over her pulse, the other feeling out a sensitive spot just behind her ear, and she moaned at the tingle it sent through her. He pulled back and swallowed, rubbing his thumb against her skin again as she panted for breath. She opened her eyes and looked at him, half-dazed. This was unlike anything she had ever done before — fighting in a Knightmare and facing death tended to bring one’s heart-rate and adrenalin up considerably, but now her pulse was racing for entirely different reasons.
He was panting, too, and a little flushed. Her hands relaxed against his head, moved down so that she was just holding gently at his shoulders and neck, and they stared at one another. She wondered suddenly if she was supposed to do something now, take the initiative — but what? She had no experience of this sort. She’d never given much thought to how much he had, but she guessed from his blush and slightly nervous demeanor that he was just as new to this.
Just as she was about to gather her courage and kiss him herself, he drew in close again. He moved his fingers away with a last caress at the skin behind her ear and placed his lips there instead, kissing softly.
She swallowed as he kissed along her neck and jaw-line, hair tickling against her cheek, one hand still pressed lightly against her throat and the other moving down her body. Her eyes widened as that hand found her breast and massaged it, gently, curiously. A thin curl of pleasure went through her as the thumb rubbed at her nipple through the clothing, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, pushing into his touch.
He rubbed again and she moaned quietly, her throat muscles moving beneath his lips. As his mouth moved against the sensitive skin of her neck, his other hand drifted down her body as well, settling on her other breast. She could feel that both nipples were beginning to harden, and that they suddenly seemed almost hyper-sensitive — and wasn’t that weird?
His hands moved away from her breasts, tracing down her body, until they came to rest on her bare thighs. She shivered at the feel of them against her bare skin, quite warm, now, and no longer clammy. As he felt up along her thighs and hooked his fingers in the top of her panties she shivered even more. Already she had gone farther now than she ever had with anyone, but this... this was even stranger territory. She almost wanted to say stop, but she had let it go far enough already.
So she held her eyes shut and let one hand tighten around the back of his head and did not push him away as he pulled her underwear down after only a moment’s hesitation.
She was wet already, and the night air felt unpleasantly cold. She was almost grateful when he moved his warm fingers to feel between her legs. He was not kissing her anymore — he instead stood with his forehead pressed to the wall, cheek just touching hers, breath hot and panting against her neck as he felt around the outside of that secret place and then, without warning, plunged his fingers in.
She caught her breath and clutched tighter still at the back of his head. It was such an alien feeling, to have someone else’s fingers moving around inside her, curious and unfamiliar with the surroundings. It was... not altogether unpleasant.
His fingers brushed against a spot that made her legs shudder. She gasped, and he rubbed against it once more, experimentally.
“Ah – ” She muffled her moan against the side of his neck, sweaty as it was, and jerked her hips forward. His other hand steadied her as he rubbed that place again and again, and she bucked into it.
Was this all he wanted, then? Was this all she had to do, just allow him to touch her however he wanted and give him complete control? Was that all that he wanted, to be able to feel that he was still in control of something? She didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all.
His lips were moving against her skin again — she had pushed his head into her shoulder, almost, but he didn’t seem to mind. It sent another shock of pleasure through her, magnifying the effect of his fingers inside her.
I don’t mind. This is okay. This is okay —
Her thoughts broke off, and with a muffled cry and a shudder, she came, clutching tightly at him.
She rested her head against his shoulder, still lost in the haze of her pleasure, and she felt him swallow. His fingers were slick against her thigh as he pulled them out of her, and a small, cool breeze made her shiver again.
She loosened her grip on the back of his head, and he drew back a little — she lifted her own and opened her eyes to look at him. She was certain that her face was flaming red.
She swallowed, tried to steady her breathing. “... Lelouch?” He wasn’t looking at her. Was that a bad sign? “... Lelouch, are you... are you okay now?”
He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she felt whatever hope she’d had blossoming in her chest wilt at the haunted look still in them. He shook his head just slightly, and laughed lowly.
“You’d want to leave me, just like this?” he asked her, and she blinked in confusion before seeing the bulge in his pants.
She flushed even deeper. “Oh... no,” she said in a very quiet, almost meek voice. It made her think of the days when she had been Kallen Stadtfeld, a weak, sickly girl who had to rely on the goodwill of others. She tilted her head up arrogantly to counteract it. “I can take care of that if you want,” she said with false bravado, because she really didn’t know how. But neither had he known how to deal with her, until just a few minutes ago, and she was sure that she could figure it out as she went along.
She drew her hands down his body, quickly, and reached almost boldly for the waistband of his pants — he caught her wrist, surprising her.
“I don’t need you to jack me off,” he said, almost harshly. She looked at him — did that mean he wanted her to...? Uncertainly, she began to kneel, but her jerked her wrist up again. When she gave him a questioning look he shook his head.
Comprehension dawned. He wants — all the way? But — without any protection — I’m not — !
He moved in to kiss her again, dropping her hand, and she made a split second decision.
She tugged at the waistband of his pants, confused when they didn’t shift. A moment later she realized there was a fly, and this she fumbled with, nervously, as he kissed her almost tenderly, hands warm on her sides.
A zip, and her fingers hooked into two layers of clothing before she tugged down gently. There was a hitch in his breath as she ran her hands across the inside of his bare thigh, and he pulled back from their kiss a little. Summoning her courage, she reached with only slightly trembling fingers towards his erection.
He made a tiny sound in the back of his throat as she touched it, and when she glanced up at him she saw that his eyes were shut, his cheeks flushed, and his mouth open just a little. Emboldened by his reaction, she curled her hand around it experimentally — a groan from him, and all of a sudden he was holding her wrist again, pushing it away.
She let him. She understood — this was about control, again, and he’d be damned if he let her take it from him.
She tilted her head back and leaned against the wall as he felt around in the area between her legs again, positioning himself. His hair brushed against her chin, his lips against the hollow of her throat — she let out a strangled cry when he entered her.
It... hurt, almost more than she had expected it to. She had taken biology, she knew the basics of sex, but knowing was different from feeling. She squeezed her eyes shut as he waited momentarily — and courteously, she thought, given his state — for her to adjust to the feel of him in her. It was different from his fingers, not as slender or nimble, and almost before she was quite ready he was moving again.
She kept her eyes shut, tried to ignore the pain, focussing instead on the steadily building pleasure as he moved inside her, pulling back just a little before shifting forward again. He was panting, mouth open and wet against her neck, and his hands were warm on her sides. She thought she could get used to this, to the way his body pushed against hers, the tiny almost inaudible sounds he made in the back of his throat, his breath hot on her skin.
He surged forward suddenly and stayed there, body shuddering, and let out a small, gasping sigh — “A-aahn,” — she felt him come in her, and the feeling pushed her over the edge as well, grasping tightly at his shoulders.
And there was silence, except for their own harsh breathing. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears — he probably could, too, slumped as he was against her chest. She let him rest there, observing their surroundings in an attempt to distract herself from what had just happened. It was at the time between sunset and true nightfall, when all the colours seemed to have been sucked from the world and everything was a series of soft, muted shades of grey melting into one another.
... it’s late! she realized with a shock. I shouldn’t be here — I have to go —
She pushed him off her almost in a panic, and he moved away accordingly. She blushed as she pulled her underwear up and smoothed down her skirt. He fixed his clothes, too, with less franticness. She couldn’t look at him.
She had to look at him.
Their eyes met, his face still flushed a little from exertion. And those eyes, those lovely purple eyes, were fully open now, and even had a hint of expression behind the defeat and emptiness. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like to him.
She sidled along the wall, looking down and away. She had the feeling that he was going to say something, and she waited a moment, but by the time he managed to begin — “Kallen, I — ” it was too late and she was gone. She walked away into the gathering darkness without a backward glance, limping just a little.
He didn’t follow.
Pairing: Lelouch x Kallen
Rating: M/NC-17
Summary: "Then... comfort me." And what if she had accepted? An alternate take on Turn Seven. For now just a oneshot, but... with the possibility of continuing at some point. Maybe. Written for the kink meme. >_> (x-posted to Lelouch_Kallen comm)
“Then... comfort me.”
She gasped and stepped back as he stood, still staring at the ground. There was something terribly wrong about this, about the weak, defeated way he held himself. She wished she could see his eyes, hidden as they were beneath his bangs.
“... that’s a thing women can do, right?” he said, stepping forward and lifting a hand to tilt her chin up towards him.
She went very, very, still. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to slap him out of this, wanted to tell him stop it, stop it, you can’t show weakness, you’re Zero, you can’t be as human as this — ! Because for all she had long wanted... wanted something to bring him closer to her, she didn’t want it like this. She didn’t want him to be so weak as to beg her for such a thing.
He brought his face closer and she caught a glimpse of his eyes, half-shut and dazed from despair and lack of sleep. She swallowed.
Stop. You can’t be this weak — !
But she said and did nothing, only stood still and trembling as his lips opened just barely and pressed against hers, softly. His eyes slid shut as their mouths touched. Hers remained wide and staring, and she was acutely aware of his fingers on her chin, his bangs brushing her forehead, the tiny furrow in his brow — he pulled away after a moment, but not far.
You dick, that was my first kiss, she thought dully, and wondered if she should slap him for stealing it. I should. I should just go.
“Please.”
Just that one word, whispered with such desperation, and whatever resolve she’d had broke. She looked away, not wanting to see the desperation in his eyes, and bowed her head in acceptance. Even... even if she wasn’t sure that she wanted this now, of all times, the least she could do was try to help her commander. The least she could do was try to comfort a troubled friend.
There was a sigh, an exhalation of relief — he tilted her chin up again and kissed her, more forcefully this time. His hand trailed down her jaw-line to her neck, and she shivered at the cold, clammy feeling of his palm against the junction of her jaw and throat.
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to do this. His eyes were shut again, so she closed hers as well and concentrated instead on feeling. His lips were moving against hers, opening again — something wet ran across her bottom lip. His tongue, she realized a moment later, and, hesitantly, she opened her own mouth to allow it entrance.
It was somehow awkward, standing there in the alleyway with her head jerked upwards to meet his, unable to hold her hands out for balance, and his tongue moving curiously inside her mouth. She realized that she could actually taste him, and that it was not a nice taste — a sickening sweet and sour odour, and she wondered, ridiculously, if he had brushed his teeth recently —
She lost her balance a little, and stepped back so that her back was against the alley wall. He followed, still kissing her, and his other hand ran up her side and gripped lightly at the back of her head. She followed kind, hesitantly raising her hands to bury them in his hair. It was soft, and a little damp from sweat.
His thumb moved just a little over her pulse, the other feeling out a sensitive spot just behind her ear, and she moaned at the tingle it sent through her. He pulled back and swallowed, rubbing his thumb against her skin again as she panted for breath. She opened her eyes and looked at him, half-dazed. This was unlike anything she had ever done before — fighting in a Knightmare and facing death tended to bring one’s heart-rate and adrenalin up considerably, but now her pulse was racing for entirely different reasons.
He was panting, too, and a little flushed. Her hands relaxed against his head, moved down so that she was just holding gently at his shoulders and neck, and they stared at one another. She wondered suddenly if she was supposed to do something now, take the initiative — but what? She had no experience of this sort. She’d never given much thought to how much he had, but she guessed from his blush and slightly nervous demeanor that he was just as new to this.
Just as she was about to gather her courage and kiss him herself, he drew in close again. He moved his fingers away with a last caress at the skin behind her ear and placed his lips there instead, kissing softly.
She swallowed as he kissed along her neck and jaw-line, hair tickling against her cheek, one hand still pressed lightly against her throat and the other moving down her body. Her eyes widened as that hand found her breast and massaged it, gently, curiously. A thin curl of pleasure went through her as the thumb rubbed at her nipple through the clothing, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, pushing into his touch.
He rubbed again and she moaned quietly, her throat muscles moving beneath his lips. As his mouth moved against the sensitive skin of her neck, his other hand drifted down her body as well, settling on her other breast. She could feel that both nipples were beginning to harden, and that they suddenly seemed almost hyper-sensitive — and wasn’t that weird?
His hands moved away from her breasts, tracing down her body, until they came to rest on her bare thighs. She shivered at the feel of them against her bare skin, quite warm, now, and no longer clammy. As he felt up along her thighs and hooked his fingers in the top of her panties she shivered even more. Already she had gone farther now than she ever had with anyone, but this... this was even stranger territory. She almost wanted to say stop, but she had let it go far enough already.
So she held her eyes shut and let one hand tighten around the back of his head and did not push him away as he pulled her underwear down after only a moment’s hesitation.
She was wet already, and the night air felt unpleasantly cold. She was almost grateful when he moved his warm fingers to feel between her legs. He was not kissing her anymore — he instead stood with his forehead pressed to the wall, cheek just touching hers, breath hot and panting against her neck as he felt around the outside of that secret place and then, without warning, plunged his fingers in.
She caught her breath and clutched tighter still at the back of his head. It was such an alien feeling, to have someone else’s fingers moving around inside her, curious and unfamiliar with the surroundings. It was... not altogether unpleasant.
His fingers brushed against a spot that made her legs shudder. She gasped, and he rubbed against it once more, experimentally.
“Ah – ” She muffled her moan against the side of his neck, sweaty as it was, and jerked her hips forward. His other hand steadied her as he rubbed that place again and again, and she bucked into it.
Was this all he wanted, then? Was this all she had to do, just allow him to touch her however he wanted and give him complete control? Was that all that he wanted, to be able to feel that he was still in control of something? She didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all.
His lips were moving against her skin again — she had pushed his head into her shoulder, almost, but he didn’t seem to mind. It sent another shock of pleasure through her, magnifying the effect of his fingers inside her.
I don’t mind. This is okay. This is okay —
Her thoughts broke off, and with a muffled cry and a shudder, she came, clutching tightly at him.
She rested her head against his shoulder, still lost in the haze of her pleasure, and she felt him swallow. His fingers were slick against her thigh as he pulled them out of her, and a small, cool breeze made her shiver again.
She loosened her grip on the back of his head, and he drew back a little — she lifted her own and opened her eyes to look at him. She was certain that her face was flaming red.
She swallowed, tried to steady her breathing. “... Lelouch?” He wasn’t looking at her. Was that a bad sign? “... Lelouch, are you... are you okay now?”
He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she felt whatever hope she’d had blossoming in her chest wilt at the haunted look still in them. He shook his head just slightly, and laughed lowly.
“You’d want to leave me, just like this?” he asked her, and she blinked in confusion before seeing the bulge in his pants.
She flushed even deeper. “Oh... no,” she said in a very quiet, almost meek voice. It made her think of the days when she had been Kallen Stadtfeld, a weak, sickly girl who had to rely on the goodwill of others. She tilted her head up arrogantly to counteract it. “I can take care of that if you want,” she said with false bravado, because she really didn’t know how. But neither had he known how to deal with her, until just a few minutes ago, and she was sure that she could figure it out as she went along.
She drew her hands down his body, quickly, and reached almost boldly for the waistband of his pants — he caught her wrist, surprising her.
“I don’t need you to jack me off,” he said, almost harshly. She looked at him — did that mean he wanted her to...? Uncertainly, she began to kneel, but her jerked her wrist up again. When she gave him a questioning look he shook his head.
Comprehension dawned. He wants — all the way? But — without any protection — I’m not — !
He moved in to kiss her again, dropping her hand, and she made a split second decision.
She tugged at the waistband of his pants, confused when they didn’t shift. A moment later she realized there was a fly, and this she fumbled with, nervously, as he kissed her almost tenderly, hands warm on her sides.
A zip, and her fingers hooked into two layers of clothing before she tugged down gently. There was a hitch in his breath as she ran her hands across the inside of his bare thigh, and he pulled back from their kiss a little. Summoning her courage, she reached with only slightly trembling fingers towards his erection.
He made a tiny sound in the back of his throat as she touched it, and when she glanced up at him she saw that his eyes were shut, his cheeks flushed, and his mouth open just a little. Emboldened by his reaction, she curled her hand around it experimentally — a groan from him, and all of a sudden he was holding her wrist again, pushing it away.
She let him. She understood — this was about control, again, and he’d be damned if he let her take it from him.
She tilted her head back and leaned against the wall as he felt around in the area between her legs again, positioning himself. His hair brushed against her chin, his lips against the hollow of her throat — she let out a strangled cry when he entered her.
It... hurt, almost more than she had expected it to. She had taken biology, she knew the basics of sex, but knowing was different from feeling. She squeezed her eyes shut as he waited momentarily — and courteously, she thought, given his state — for her to adjust to the feel of him in her. It was different from his fingers, not as slender or nimble, and almost before she was quite ready he was moving again.
She kept her eyes shut, tried to ignore the pain, focussing instead on the steadily building pleasure as he moved inside her, pulling back just a little before shifting forward again. He was panting, mouth open and wet against her neck, and his hands were warm on her sides. She thought she could get used to this, to the way his body pushed against hers, the tiny almost inaudible sounds he made in the back of his throat, his breath hot on her skin.
He surged forward suddenly and stayed there, body shuddering, and let out a small, gasping sigh — “A-aahn,” — she felt him come in her, and the feeling pushed her over the edge as well, grasping tightly at his shoulders.
And there was silence, except for their own harsh breathing. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears — he probably could, too, slumped as he was against her chest. She let him rest there, observing their surroundings in an attempt to distract herself from what had just happened. It was at the time between sunset and true nightfall, when all the colours seemed to have been sucked from the world and everything was a series of soft, muted shades of grey melting into one another.
... it’s late! she realized with a shock. I shouldn’t be here — I have to go —
She pushed him off her almost in a panic, and he moved away accordingly. She blushed as she pulled her underwear up and smoothed down her skirt. He fixed his clothes, too, with less franticness. She couldn’t look at him.
She had to look at him.
Their eyes met, his face still flushed a little from exertion. And those eyes, those lovely purple eyes, were fully open now, and even had a hint of expression behind the defeat and emptiness. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like to him.
She sidled along the wall, looking down and away. She had the feeling that he was going to say something, and she waited a moment, but by the time he managed to begin — “Kallen, I — ” it was too late and she was gone. She walked away into the gathering darkness without a backward glance, limping just a little.
He didn’t follow.
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(no subject)
I'm toying with the idea of having this scene narrated from Rolo
-the-stalker's point of view if and when I post the thing on ff.net, with a discretion sort of shot of "He saw Lelouch start kissing Kallen and then turned away, embarrassed, and plugged his ears so he couldn't hear until they were done," or something. *shrug* I dunno.(no subject)
Sadly though, Kallen would be dead shortly after. XD Rolo's a territorial little bitch with a brother complex like WHOA.
(no subject)
(no subject)
OH WAIT. Is that the one where Lelouch rescues Kallen by pretending to be Suzaku, or something? And then has fun sexxing times? =D I read the first chapter of that, I think...