16-July-2002
Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Spoilers, LEMON
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.
Chapter Fifteen - On the Crusade (cont)
Part 39
Allen was frowning on the bridge, not very much, but he was mildly puzzled. He knew the cloaking capabilities of the Zaibach mecha but he'd expected to see Escaflowne. The only thing at the coordinates Van had given was a rock outcropping.
Coming upon the scene of the very preoccupied captain of the Crusade, a slightly sadistic, slightly impish urge to sneak up on the blond man again had to be quelled with a small sigh. Deliberately taking louder footfalls, Dilandau walked into the cabin, eyes quickly daring any of the crew in attendance to dispute his right to be there.
"Something wrong?" he asked, almost sweetly.
Allen managed not to jerk, exactly. He straightened and glanced back, his eyes meeting Dilandau's and then flickering beyond him for a moment before coming back.
"If so I hope one of you will inform me," he said. "Otherwise I'll assume that Escaflowne is hidden here somewhere...?"
The younger boy shrugged, a grin confirming the Knight's conjecture. "Of course. The lee of the formation would probably be the easiest landing," he offered indirectly.
One blond eyebrow lifted and then Allen shrugged. He looked to Gaddes and nodded.
As the ship lost altitude, flicks of white became visible from the windward side of the formation. When the ship's anchors had found purchase and pulled the airship the rest of the way to a reasonable distance from the ground, the specter of the bottom half of the Ispano guymelef was visible from the bridge, eerily separated from the rest of the familiar form. It looked almost as if it had been irregularly sliced in half.
It took a sharp eye to catch the quickly moving form of the king, who had waited only until the rope ladder wasn't too far from the ground before dropping to the earth with a tuck and roll. He made his way quickly to the rock shelf and under it and was lost to sight.
Only a bare moment later the strange vision altered, rather violently, as if the invisible curtain were being ripped aside. The tall form of the white guymelef appeared, standing for a moment with the desert wind blowing the thinnest veils of sand around it, and then it changed to the dragon form.
From the bridge, the distance was great enough to obscure any clear view of the king's face as he stood on the dragon's shoulders, but Dilandau felt a sudden flare of heat from his chest and had a very clear flash of something... a clash of wills? A struggle...
The white metal dragon beat its wings suddenly, leaping into the air above the ship. It seemed to circle, as if poised to flee.
"The bay doors," he said, a curt waspishness laden in the tone that hadn't been in the boy's almost playful demeanor when he'd entered the bridge. Turning sharply for the halls leading back to the bay, he missed Gaddes' sharp glance towards Allen, an asking for permission.
Allen nodded quickly, frowning. The behavior of the Fanelian king and his mecha were puzzling, something was... off.
Out of the presence of the Crusade's crew, Dilandau allowed a scowl to furrow his face fully. Abandoning appearances in the face of a deepening sinking feeling, he quickened his pace to a near run for the rear of the floating ship.
By the time he got to the bay, the wide doors were open. A couple of the crew were looking out, expecting the white mecha to come in quickly. They had much more confidence in Van, whom they knew, than the Zaibach Captain.
Stopping within the holding bay, far behind the waiting crew, Dilandau watched the opening and the stirred dust swirling past it, empty of the familiar form he was expecting. Stepping forward, and with one hand unconsciously at the chain of the warmed pendant, he sought to get a better look outside, if there was no change yet...
As he put his hand on the pendant, it flared slightly, and he felt the brief impression from the bridge again, but stronger, as if he were getting a glimpse through other eyes, distorted, but not entirely uncomfortable, just different. He could almost feel muscles in his arms knotting to keep the tension in the cable tethers, but more, felt an odd warmth around his mind, like a crimson filter, that was both comforting, strengthening, and at the same time pressing against his thoughts as if trying to shape them. He could almost hear a distant voice, talking, coaxing, then commanding, then persuading. An impression of a destination communicated, and then the red veil seemed to respond by pressing the need to go there now, distaining the confines of the ship below.
The low, possessive growl from the Zaibach Captain drew more than one stare from the crewmembers who'd to that point, been unaware of the boy's presence. The look on the pale soldier's face and hardness around the eyes was nothing comforting to any of the men. Inexplicably to them, Dilandau retreated a step, putting himself against the solid wood of the bay's walls, and fished a familiar necklace that had been hidden by the loose shirt. The pendant by now was glowing a bright red. Dilandau swung the chain around his hand quickly until the gem itself lay in his palm.
With little true idea of what he was doing, he closed his eyes to the bay, and tried to bring a picture of the Fanelian king to mind.
The reaction was immediate, as the momentary impression sharpened. He *felt* the cables in his gloved hands, felt his grip tightening further, and had a strange impression of those gloves adhering to his skin, cemented by something between skin and leather. That sensory impression was followed by a less tangible one, as if he could feel his determination to master the struggle firming. He heard a distant, sharp curse in a curt but familiar voice, and then felt the will against his yield suddenly, but not without an impression of falling back, rather than defeat.
Outside there was a sudden whistling of something plunging through the air above and the two crewmen yelled, jumping back from the open door as the white metal dragon dived into the opening, wings only clearing by inches because they were furled for the dive.
Suddenly snapped back into his own realm of senses, Dilandau started, only half expecting to be still falling. He grabbed onto the lip of a stack of crates by reflex alone as the white dragon made her entrance. The two crewmembers hesitantly began to pick themselves out of where they'd fallen in the excitement and sudden motion of the airship. Staring, slightly stunned at the king and the guymelef.
The king's face was cloaked in a deep scowl, which Dilandau somehow sensed was concentration, and he'd no attention to spare for the crew. The mecha transformed, and moved to the last place open on the bench, to the other side of Scherezade. The cockpit did not open immediately when the guymelef was at rest, but did open - about three beats later than expected. The king jumped out and the cockpit resealed. He walked a couple of steps away from it, his back to the seated mecha, and wiped his arm across his forehead, displacing more perspiration there that the simple effort of bringing the suit in should have required.
Dilandau stepped forward, abandoning the place he'd taken as the last aftershocks of the boarding settled into unnoticeable vibrations in the floorboards. The pendant forgotten in one hand, he approached the Fanelian without outward caution. Within easier range and out of the ears of the crew, "That happen every time?" The question sounded more like a statement.
Van looked up as if startled, but his eyes stayed on the other boy's. He moved forward, closing the small distance between them. "Not... no. Not every time," he answered, keeping his voice low. "It's worse than... before."
Glancing between Van and Escaflowne briefly, Dilandau favored the machine with a dark look. "Where?" he asked. The idea of keeping the use of the strange necklace was just as quickly discarded as it was considered. "She wanted to go somewhere," he elaborated.
The mood that he'd entered the hangar with hadn't evaporated but an inch with Van's tardy arrival. If he'd been a neko-jin, his hackles would have been clearly risen. As it was he was fighting down the urge just to grab the other boy and take, drag if necessary, him away from the white melef.
Van's eyes widened and he nodded. "I told her we had to go to Freid, a mission... she wanted to leave the ship and fly there. But she also wants to go home. It makes me uneasy."
"I would think she'd always want that," Dimadau said. With a cool glance at the machine again, he turned, unwinding the chain, and waiting for the other's movement through the corner of his eye, covered by seeming preoccupation in the stone. "You're fixated enough on the place."
Van smiled very slightly. He wasn't in any way reluctant to leave the bay, casting a brief eye back to see that the crew were finishing the job of securing the guymelef to the bench. He nodded briefly in a belated thanks and moved towards the exit from the bay, brushing Dilandau's shoulder in an almost-nudge.
At the other's side, Dilandau paced the king. The idea of engineering an accident, like a loose restraint on a more tricky maneuver involving the white dragon brought a pleasant smile to the other's face, but was banished under the darker memory of matching wounds.
As the hallway narrowed and turned, he took a hold of Van's shoulder, looking at him for a moment before returning the kiss the other had given him in the hall. The action was insistent, and demanding, loose sleeved arms seeking to wrap tightly behind Van's back, before releasing the other boy just as suddenly.
Not stepping back immediately, he kept within contact, the warmth a reassurance. "My," was all he said in a low tone.
Van's eyes widened and his body molded to the albino's instantly, his mouth opening to the kiss. His cinnamon eyes were completely open, and his chest rose an fell with a suddenly speeded respiration. Licking his lips, he nodded, accepting the claim. "I'll remember," he mumbled. He brushed the back of his glove-clad fingers against the other's cheek just briefly.
Leaning slightly into the swift caress, the last traces of defensive anger shattered under a familiar half smile and lidded eyes. Lingering on a few moment longer he replied, "Might as well let them know they can fly again," he smirked. "Finish this."
Van took a deep breath and then pushed against Dilandau, his expression sliding into a smile and a familiar ducking of head under dark hair. He moved down the narrow hall towards the bridge, snagging the albino's wrist as he went.
Lifting the pendant with his free hand, Dilandau quickly pulled it over his head and under his shirt, as he let himself be led, only taking a few half steps to catch up, but making no move to jerk, or in any way, free his hand.
Van looked into the bridge, towing the other boy, and simply said, "We're boarded."
Allen raised an eyebrow at the sight of the two linked together, this time physically, and simply acknowledged with a brief, "Good." He turned to Gaddes to give the expected order - "Best time to Freid, and look alive, this isn't a pleasure outing."
Gaddes jerked and nodded, mute a few seconds before barked out orders. "Raise all lower anchors, cut the furnaces at 80, raise sail!" The crew in the room, and just outside the panes of the bridge, scattered with an acknowledgement. In less than have a minute, the floor beneath their feet shuddered and bobbed as the scenery outside of the window began to sink beneath sight and shrink.
As the ship began to move, Van looked back at his partner and raised his eyebrows, nodding briefly back towards the cabin with a questioning look.
The only response was a smirk and a quick change of holds. Now with his hand firmly around the other boy's wrist above the hem of the leather glove, he pulled Van back into the corridor.
Not turning from the gauge he was watching for the next cue, Gaddes shook his head, a bemused look on his face. Though his expression was hidden, his words reached the swordsman's sharp ears. "There went one theory.... trying to kill each other WAS foreplay."
Allen suddenly swallowed a soft sound like a half choke, glancing back at the dark-haired man with a rather odd expression, half shocked, half curiously amused.
At the noise, the only sign that the first mate knew he was caught was the reddening of the ears and the slightly hoarse element in his voice when he called for the propellers to be lowered and opened in full.
Allen turned to leave the bridge, retiring to his room as he often did when a journey was commenced, taking a moment to give Gaddes a rather brief pat on the shoulder as he walked back.
Slumping slightly with relief as the taller man left the room, Gaddes mentally shrugged to himself, pulling his nerves back together and turned his concentration back to keeping the airship on course with the Zaibach crosswinds form the mountains.
Outside of the bridge, the hallways were again deserted as the small crew of the Crusade II was scattered between duties on deck, at the furnaces or in the cargo hold with the newly boarded melefs. Even with the consternating trouble of before, the easy way with which Dilandau pulled Van back towards the cabin just seemed to illustrate another point, it seemed too easy, and it made the Captain itch.
Even Folken's catgirls demonstrated that bloodlines full of luck couldn't completely deter good luck's twin. Either way, he wanted to get back to the cabin and his usual attire. He'd change back once they were at Freid, being so vulnerable and unprepared now just didn't settle.
Completing the now well traced route, Dilandau finally and with some reluctance released the hold on the other boy's skin and opened the door to their small, appointed rooms.
Van followed Dilandau into the small room, watching him curiously. He could almost feel the purpose, almost hear the thoughts as a distant unintelligible murmur at the edge of his perception. Perching on the edge of the bunk, he drew one knee up, resting his chin on it, and watched the other boy.
Sitting on the bunk across from Van, Dilandau had pulled up his own package and opened it, going through the contents with various looks of impatience and satisfaction. After finally upending the contents on the bedsheets, he sorted through the various items, distancing the extra miscellaneous tidbits, equipment and weapons from the target, his usual armor.
With a flicker of a glance towards Van, he turned his attention to removing the buttons on his shirt, intent on switching it for the more 'comfortable' clothes.
Van watched the other boy begin removing his 'civilian' clothing, a slight curve turning up the corner of his mouth. Whatever he was thinking caused a light flush on his tan cheeks, followed by a slight, self-conscious ducking of his chin.
He kept still for a few moments but when the albino picked up the pieces of his uniform and began putting them on, Van slipped to his feet and moved closer, reaching out to take the edges of the garments from the other boy's hands, and closing them with deft, but not hurried fingers.
Dilandau glanced up at Van as the other boy worked, surprise taking words from him momentarily, Watching the other in unusual silence, Dilandau waited until the last fastening had been fixed properly before catching the other's hand as it retreated, lazily tracing a line along the line of the inner wrist. At the junction of the forearm and elbow his finger paused a moment, before after a second of deliberation, he ducked his head and kissed the other's inner wrist.
The pulse under his lips jumped in response. Van blinked, attempting to control his breathing. He didn't really understand why he was drawn so strongly, and why his thoughts and feelings seemed to slid so easily in a certain direction these days. It was a little bewildering, but it had the effect of pulling him away from the turmoil and darkness that seemed to wheel so close to the center of him.
Leaving that arm in the possession of the other, he drifted the fingertips of his free hand along the armor. "Making ready to..." he didn't complete the thought but there was a strange sense of gratitude twining around Van's thoughts as they wandered on beyond his words.
The Captain leaned back against the wall, one shoulder shrugging loosely. With a slightly distasteful look at the cotton garments he replied, "Given a choice between that sword and your real one, I'd think you'd switch as quickly." The tone was one more of light amusement than any true retort, and he seemed in no more hurry to relinquish the slight contact than Van was.
Van nodded, no argument. His eyes searched the other for a moment. "Things are changing," he said vaguely. "The... the balance is shifted. You're coming into sync... I'm moving out, perhaps."
Dilandau had responded to the first comment with a sarcastic snort, but the following had swallowed whatever had come to mind. "Maybe," he admitted with a sideway glance at the Fanelian. "Didn't sound like you had... balance... in the first place though."
Van blinked, his eyes flickering away for a moment, unconsciously in the direction of the hold. "Just for a little while," he said quietly. "If it wasn't a dream..."
The pale boy snickered at that. "I don't discount dreams anymore," he replied. "Hmmph, these days the lies seem safer than the reality, or at least make more sense."
Van smiled slightly. "These days, the fire seems safer than the air." He dusted his fingers along the armor one last time. "I... like this. But I liked the other too."
Dilandau regarded Van for a moment, glancing at the other set of clothes before smirking. "Just because they're easier to get off..." He relinquished his hold on Van's arm and folded his own over his chest before skipping thoughts completely. "Fire is never safer," he smiled fondly, "That's what makes it so beautiful."
Van leaned back. "Yes, it is," he contradicted with a slight smile. "It's safer than being in the dark." His eyes drifted along the other boy's form a little wistfully. "It's alive... *that's* what makes it beautiful."
Garnet eyes darkened slightly, as the other shook his head, refuting the statement. "Alive... perhaps. But it can't be controlled, or harnessed. It can be killed but never held. It's only useful for as long as it wishes to be." He nearly purred at the explanation. "It's perfect."
Van nodded, falling back slightly to lean his hip against the bunk. "I'm starting to think that," he said, dropping his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders unconsciously as he felt an odd itch in his shoulderblades and a sudden momentary longing for the feeling of air on his skin. He slid back onto the bunk, resting his back against the cabin wall and began slowly pulling off his gloves, focusing his attention on the movement.
For a moment, it was almost like Dilandau could feel the change in mood in the other, against his skin, in the back of his teeth. With a sharp, measuring glance at the other, he didn't move to interrupt Van's focus of attention, just took the two steps necessary to sit down beside the other boy. Also watching the gloves being peeled off, he stated, "I suppose you have more knowledge of Freid."
"We stayed there for a while," Van answered easily enough. He glanced a question.
"I know," Dilandau replied, a slight twitch of his expression betrayed a little lingering irritation at that. "You had my man there." He shrugged. "The lay of the area will help a search. And other plans."
Van's eyebrows lifted. "I don't believe the sorcerers could hide there for long if the people of Freid knew to look for them," he said quietly. "They have odd ways, but very effective. What other plans?"
"If I gathered anything from the war, the less a person has to lose the more dangerous they are. I'd rather not let Freid know anything is wrong until we have to. It would invite questions." Dilandau grinned. "I have no patience for diplomacy." He shrugged. "As for plans..." he smirked and glances towards the hold and back to Van. "They aren't set."
Van tilted his head but opted to comment on the earlier remark. "Allen will not keep anything from Prince Sid," he said simply.
A look of distinct annoyance crossed the albino's face. "He has a talent for getting in the way," he growled.
After a moment, a much darker smirk crossed his face. "Though I don't see what the problem is, he has had no trouble... withholding from his kin before."
Van shrugged. His look simply said, okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.
"We'll see," Dilandau said more to himself than anything. "There will be plenty of opportunities to ask, the chance of avoidance on this little ship is horrifyingly low," he commented, the last with a touch more humor.
Van smiled slightly and shook his head. He tossed the gloves over onto the other bunk. Tilting his head back to rest against the cabin wall, he closed his eyes for a moment. Rather than shutting the other boy out, it seemed to open his other senses to the scent, energy and presence. Van was fairly certain that once he got to Freid, things would happen that would affect his life drastically, while at the same time having no clear idea of what they would be. He chose to spend the present stocking his sense memory with something that he found he could not seem to satiate himself on.
Outside his closed lids, Van could feel the other shift slightly on the bed, to pick something up and fiddle with it. A long sigh accompanying the movement, as whatever the other was holding seemed to lose his attention as fast as it had garnered it. "Better be fast anyway," he said, voicing the end of some unknown train of thought. "She's getting annoying about the extended sleep," he continued, half grouching, half in a confiding tone.
Van opened his eyes immediately and turned, hands closing around Dilandau's upper arms, pulling them together. He kissed the other boy hotly, tasting of sudden need. His heart vibrated like a string plucked with pain, feeling the constant tug of loss against loss. No win.
The other boy stiffened at first in surprise at the sudden movement and constraint before seeming to give up all reservations in a wash, leaning into Van as much as he could with his arms held, returning the heat with pressure, opening his mouth naturally for Van.
The young king took that opening and plunged into it, recklessly, sliding his tongue deep and twining it along the other boy's, retreating and advancing. His grip loosened but only to allow his hands to drift, one curving around the albino's neck to invade his pale cap of waves with searching fingers. His other hand wandered down to rub palm against an armor-clad thigh.
Hands freed by Van's explorations, Dilandau quelled the urge to just lean back. Instead his own hands slipped around the other boy during the long kiss. One sliding up between them as they finally broke apart out of necessity. Skin lightly flushed and lidded eyes watching the other boy, one gloved finger reached up and traced the deep furrow between Van's eyebrows, not smoothing, as exploring it. Leaning into the other boys touch he said "Some things don't change it seems," before he leaned in again this time seeking entrance, as his arms circled around the other boy, drawing him into a closer contact.
Van responded immediately, yielding, even coaxing the return kiss, adjusting his body to mold against the other. Brief meaningless thoughts from another existence floated through his mind without finding a purchase, something about preparing for battle, something about dignity, something about place, something about an old enemy, something about fidelity to a new love. They were without substance or meaning. Unable to drown out the sudden sound of an internal clock ticking away precious time, leaving him with less and less.
Dilandau pushed away slowly, reluctance in every aspect of the motion, and more than a little breathless. Though slightly removed from lucid, the look in the garnet eyes was a question.
Van looked back directly, eyes open and unguarded. "What?" he asked softly, trying to read the question to make an answer.
The other boy blinked and drew back a bit father, a look of confusion followed by a shrug of his shoulders. It wasn't anything coherent, that he understood, just a feeling of resonance that the couldn't place. "Nothing," he replied, covering it with a smirk.
Van fumbled in his mind for a moment, feeling a dire weight of immediacy on every moment. What he held back from saying now... might never be said. Closing his eyes for a moment he scowled, hands tightening slightly on the other, and pushed words out.
"I n-need you, as much now as she before, need both... to feel whole," it was softly spoken but almost harsh, already flinching from an imagined reaction but refusing to regret. Unable to articulate the rest, he shrugged, eyes opening to offer the irony of it with his gaze.
"To cause you pain, I would have stayed, fought every step," Dilandau said, tracing a finger down the ridges of Van's throat. "Now, I'd have given her to you to keep you from pain. Only to find out it wouldn't help," he returned, lips quirked a bit at the return of irony. He considered a moment. "Or not perhaps... I'm enjoying the first thing I've found more perfect than fire."
Van's breath caught in his throat and he swallowed, catching that hand and placing it against his throat over the pulse. "I want more," he said finally, a harsh whisper. "You were right before - you aren't the same. I want more of both... I won't give you up," he muttered, almost sullenly, trying to mask the pain which he perceived as weakness. "...give my life to find a way..."
"I already told you, I don't want your life," Dilandau said, eyes flashing at the last.
Van answered the flash with one of his own, his both possessive and determined. "My soul then," he said.
"Dangerous," Dilandau drawled. "Haven't you heard the stories, what happens when you give your soul to one who's soulless," Dilandau smirked and replaced his hand with his lips, feeling the other's strong pulse beneath his mouth and tongue. "A better gift for my.. other," he murmured against Van's skin, the hesitation stemming from a quick search for an appropriate term for Serena.
Van tilted his head back, a partially muffled laugh answering. "D-dangerous? Oh.. not... safe..." He stroked questing fingers through the other boy's hair. "No... she gave it to me... I give to you..."
"Mmm," Dilandau remarked, one hand tracing lazily up Van's side, lingering along the sharp angles and contours, ghosting almost too lightly to be considered a touch. "I wont settle for just a part. I want all of you." He grinned against Van's skin before drawing back again. "That's why it's not safe."
Cinnamon eyes warming to scarlet looked back. "Fuck safe," Van said succinctly, using a gutter term quite easily in the moment. "I won't run."
"I'd rather fuck dangerous," Dilandau returned impishly.
Van leaned forward and captured Dilandau's lower lip between his teeth, nibbling it before licking. He flickered a look back. "What's stopping you?" he growled softly. He flicked his tongue against the albino's cheek and then kissed below his ear.
Dilandau lifting his head slightly, his eyes closing as he lapped up the attention given to him. Van could feel, more than see the other's smile in his posture. "Anticipation," he replied, purring the word. "Picturing what you'll look like tangled in the sheets, too far gone to even think," he whispered in the others ear, his own fingers, tracing along Van's jawline briefly.
The words struck true and Van's eyes widened, as his body reacted with a hard flush. He growled again, devoid of words to continue the banter and turned to nip at the pale fingers dancing along his face. His body shifted, the rush of blood to his lap causing instant constriction in the now strained fabric. He reached up and began pulling at the tunic fastenings of the Zaibach uniform he had so recently closed.
The wearer however didn't make it easy, closing the space between them before perhaps three of the fastenings were undone, barely enough to show the pendant laying beneath. Capturing the other's lips, he pressed a hard kiss against them before speaking against Van's cheek, the words giving butterfly kisses along his flesh. "Sometimes it can be better, not always..." he paused then amended, "Never yet with you." He pulled away, one hand slipping between them to rub up Van's thigh. "Though you can have a good mind fuck anytime. If you could know what I was thinking of you anytime, at dinner, while fighting, now.."
Van blinked, a little confusion adding to the already desire-clouded expression. His lips shaped a formless question that did not make it to more than a low sound. His hips shifted, rising under the other boy's hand like a cat seeking a pet. His back slid against the wall and across it, turning him slightly as he leaned back, feeling the balance of dominance shift without any idea what it was.
Dilandau leaned over Van slightly, not answering the question but focusing on his own movements, push Van's shirt up to gather just below the arms, and his fingers wandering, on the return trip downwards, tracing along the lines of muscles with a sort of voyeuristic pleasure. The unhidden strength within hinted at another sort of danger, more perfect than perfect. Lowering himself onto his elbows he leisurely traced a wandering path with his lips and tongue, the contrast of cold and hot on the other boy's skin.
Van moved restlessly under the touch, glancing down, then closing his eyes involuntarily. One hand clenched around the edge of the mattress as the other wandered, a bit undirected, finding the albino's shoulder, neck, inside the high collar now loosened, then sliding over the uniform-covered back.
For a moment, the other paused, arcing into the gliding touch with pleasure. He smirked and finally answered the other's unspoken question. "It's not these touches that give the pleasure," he murmured, eyes sharpening slightly to regard Van, "It's the anticipation of what it will feel like when I go four inches lower," he finished, punctuating his words with a hand loosening Van's breeches.
The Fanelian groaned, his body responding as if seeking approval and reward, while his mind stuttered, never quite catching up. He licked his lips, senses vibrating at a high pitch. If it had been a battle, he'd have lost already.
Following his words with actions, Dilandau tugged the trousers down over Van's hips, a second hand curling beneath Van's backside as Dilandau slid lower, his tongue flicking out, as if taking a curious first taste again.
Van's breathing deepened, becoming more rapid as his body asked for oxygen to fuel the heat. He gasped at the brief, warm touch against his straining flesh, his hips tensing instantly. His fingers tried to sift through soft pale waves and succeeded only in tangling gently, cupping around the side of Dilandau's face to brush the corner of his mouth with a restless thumb.
The corner lifted upwards before Dilandau, without entirely disentangling, ducked down again. The teasing touch of before gone as his fingers ran up the length as his mouth came down on it. The pale boy's eyes closed taking in scents and sensations.
The sudden rush of sensation blanked Van's thoughts completely, deafening him to the cry that came from his own throat. His eyes closed tightly, then opened with a blind seeking, as his body responded to everything begin done with helpless immediacy. His hips tensed and relaxed and tensed again, something inside the king trying to hold back without remembering why, the impulse only intensifying the pleasure with a near-painful tension.
Garnet eyes slid open again and the sight they took in only caused them to cloud further, Dilandau's own hand slipping away from Van to seek his own relief. The sight was more than enough to cause him to harden further, and redouble his efforts, a muffled moan of pleasure sounding around Van's erection.
The muffled sound penetrated, as the sensations returned with an even hotter assault, and Van could not swallow the soft whimper, was not even aware of making it. His body tensed hard and then suddenly surrendered to a climax that swept him into a half conscious state for several seconds, oblivious to the sound of the mattress cover tearing as his fist clenched in it, and his back arched, lifting his hips clear of the surface below.
Dilandau choked slightly, caught a little off guard, his attention fixed on the sights and sounds and the pleasure of his own ministrations to himself. Keeping his eyes fixed he took down all that was offered up to him. Coaxing little jolts of pleasure along the slow subsiding.
The last few moments wrung another muffled whimper from the tanned boy, panting as his body tried to recover. His hands moved, finding a hold and pulling the pale boy against him, nuzzled his cheek needfully and encountering a drop of escaped fluid, licking it without a thought. Van's eyes opened and roamed over Dilandau's face, finding whatever it was he needed to make it to the next moment.
The other boy, still as flushed as he ever seemed to get and breathing unevenly, returned the regard with lidded eyes. He smiled and nipped at the other's shoulder, "Always better than I imagine," he said, quietly.
Van blinked, still not quite able to comprehend what fueled the other boy's libido, but warming nevertheless. He reached down, sliding his fingers around the other's boy's hand, seeking the heat.
The slightest movement on the over-sensitive flesh drew a hiss of indrawn breath through clenched teeth. The strange sensation of the situation of pleasuring himself in a way without his own control seemed to only add an extra thrill to it. The eyes that Van searched showed little left coherent in them as the pale boy leaned back, seeking extra tension, while giving up a degree without protest.
Van bent to kiss the hollow of the silver-haired boy's throat inside his open collar, and pushed him back, urging him down against the narrow bunk beside Van with kisses along the length of his neck. Then he leaned over the other boy's lap, first watching the movement of his hand around the other's, the flesh so enclosed exposed and then hidden with each slowly increasing stroke. He bent and licked at the other boy's fingertips, then slid across the head of the shaft in that grip, never releasing the other's boy's fingers. The taste of salty fluid seemed to entrance him, and he bent lower to lathe the flesh with his tongue before closing his eyes, and beginning to suck.
The teasing attentions elicited a half strangled moan from the prone boy as he shifted his hips, trying to seek out greater contact. When the other had began in earnest, he'd clenched his eyes shut, fearing the sight alone would force him over the edge prematurely, wanting to savor each burst of red pleasure behind his eyes. Almost reflexively he tried to free his had from Van's grip as well as push himself up, to return the touch.
Van felt the slight pull and allowed Dilandau's fingers to escape, taking the opportunity to swallow the now-freer flesh more fully, his head moving down, then lifting slowly to move down again. He resumed his own hold, sliding strong fingers to encircle the base of the pale boy's cock, squeezing slightly and guiding it in and out of his mouth as he moved over the other boy's lap. The sensation of the firm, hot flesh sliding across his tongue and into his mouth was something he was becoming more accustomed to, even beginning to enjoy, and he took more and more of it with each downward stroke, testing to see when it would begin to choke him, and then trying again, finding it easier to go further with each try.
Dilandau had fallen back, finding his arms unable to support him and no will to make him. The wet heat around him drove off any concerns of reciprocations. Just the simple, unfocused belief that if fire's touch was less painful, it could only be as pleasurable, but even that fled within the next paced stroke. The sounds of encouragement no longer sounded involuntary, and the boy's fingers had twisted within the already torn coverlets. Unable to hold on, ever muscle in Dilandau's body locked for a few seconds, completely, still, as if savoring and holding desperately onto the edge, before giving up the unwinnable battle.
This time Van felt the surge through the body beneath him and knew what was coming. He pressed down, brushing his own encircling fingers with his lips as he opened his throat for the thick liquid his lover surrendered. Dilandau could feel the movement of Van's throat around the sensitive tip of his shaft as the dark boy swallowed, several times to get the totality of what he was being given. Only when he felt the slight, involuntary sagging of the tense body beneath did he slowly allow the other's flesh to emerge, pressing a kiss against the head as it softened. Leaning back, without releasing his grip more than a little, Van licked his lips and looked down, imprinting the vision he saw deeply into a secret place in his soul for safekeeping.
Opening his eyes just a fraction, Dilandau reached up, a hand falling on Van's shoulder to draw him down behind him with more insistence than strength in the wake of it all. Once along side of the boy, Van could clearly hear the fast, strong beats of the other's heart and slightly winded breathing. With no mind to the Fanelian's observation of him, he reached the same hand along the side of Van's face, the thumb tracing a slow repetitive path as Dilandau leaned up to kiss Van slowly and deeply, tasting himself within the other's mouth.
Van settled beside Dilandau on the narrow bed and relaxed into the deep kiss, as he slid his arms around the other boy. When their lips parted, Van settled, tucking his face against the other boy's neck for a moment, just breathing against the skin. "Remember you promised," he whispered, not sure if he wanted Dilandau to hear him or not.
But the words were spoken too close to have escaped attention. Van could vaguely feel the hands on him and the body beneath stiffen just a degree. He could feel Dilandau nod, once, slightly.
With a slight laugh, Dilandau slid a hand behind the other boy's neck, tangling his fingers gently in the wild dark locks. "Someday, you'll have to teach me that mind reading trick you seem to do around me," he replied, almost as inaudibly.
Van's head moved slightly, a vestige of a head shake. "First her, then you," he whispered, keeping his face hidden against the pale skin. "Opening doors, showing me impossible things... before was like being half alive." He closed his mouth over the rest, his hands tightening in a useless attempt to hold onto something that seemed so threatened.
"What's so imposs..." Dilandau began, trailing off as his own short attention span revealed how premature his words were. The list of things that, in the way the world works a year ago, would have been inconceivable was impressively long. "Nevermind," he said, half sulky, half contrite. "Point."
In the tightened embrace, Dilandau seemed to relax a little, his tilting back lazily as his eyes closed. Almost instinctively, the hands that hand sought contact with Van for his own comfort sought to give it, the lazy wanderings changing almost imperceptibly.
Van relaxed against Dilandau, feeling a residual heat somehow staying within the contact of the two of them. His muscles were relaxing here and there and he felt the heaviness of near-exhaustion begin to weight his lids, seeping out of the confines he'd willed it into throughout the long, eventful day. He felt the other's touch soothing his nerves and gave up fighting, his hands the only part of him that did not relax their hold even as he slid under the dark wing of sleep.
Feeling the last of the tension drain out of his lover's body, Dilandau relaxed himself, only calling up enough energy to move a trapped limb to close to being numbed. He let his eyes slide shut the rest of the small distance, and the fingers of one hand reached up unconsciously to tangle in the chain of the forgotten necklace.
THE END OF PART 39!