07-Ghost Standalone

◊   ◊   ◊

Branch

Stand-alone fic for 07 Ghost, though most of them share some world building. Lots of Frau/Teito and Ayamine/Hyuuga, with some Frau/Castor kink on the side. Translations to German can be found at FUcard's Animexx account.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"The Blue Lights, The Scent of Water" published on 2011-11-09 13:12:44.

"Come Along With Me" published on 2011-11-23 12:40:20.

"To the Silver Night Sky" published on 2012-02-22 13:17:24.

"Say Nothing and Close Your Eyes" published on 2011-11-23 12:43:11.

"Shadows that Won't Disappear" published on 2011-12-07 13:01:18.

"Crossing Every Boundary Line Between Earth and Sky" published on 2012-02-01 12:20:51.

"Silence That Is Incomprehensible" published on 2011-11-16 13:20:33.

"The Word Whose Appearance Is Multiple" published on 2011-11-30 13:13:13.

"The One Who Fashions You on the Outside" published on 2011-11-23 12:45:44.

"The Command of Those Who Ask of Me" published on 2011-12-14 15:48:18.

"Take Me to Yourselves Shamelessly" published on 2011-12-21 12:05:06.

"Strength in Trembling" published on 2012-01-04 14:00:54.

"The Name of the Sound" published on 2012-01-18 11:46:27.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "The Rhinemaidens lament the loss of the Rhinegold" by Arthur Rackham, public domain (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ring17.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

The Blue Lights, The Scent of Water

Four linked scenes of intimacy, during Frau and Teito's journeys. Teito is stubborn, Frau knows he's doomed, Mikhail snarks briefly. Mild spoilers through issue 61. Drama, Fluff, Romance, Porn, I-4

Translation into Deutsch available: Die Blauen Lichter, Der Geruch von Wasser by JanaTearce

A translation into Russian is available here, by Opossums

One

Frau leaned back on the hostel bed they'd secured for the night, every pillow in the room wadded behind his back, and lit a cigarette. They'd made it to Pirna by dark and the border and Neal were a day away. Capella was safe with his mother, no one was chasing them, and he'd gotten the shower first. Things were going about as well as could be expected.

He hadn't failed in the people under his care, yet, anyway. None of the ones that really mattered, at least.

Some days, especially lately, he felt like there were too many of those. But compared to most of the Church's bishops he had very few responsibilities. Host Zehel's spirit in his own. Keep Verloren's damn scythe contained. Protect Teito. Oh, and banish all the Kor he came across. Just a few, but they were heavy enough he didn't have room for any of the others more normal bishops carried. Not any more.

Well neither did the brat, come to that.

So, yeah, it was probably a good thing that he'd been the one sent out with Teito. Sure as hell no other bishop would understand what the kid was carrying on his shoulders. And Frau admitted it: it was good to be flying again. He'd felt so fucking grounded the last nine years, locked up in that cathedral.

The end of his cigarette glowed as he breathed in the rough heat of smoke, eyes distant. If he could just keep the brat safe, he'd almost feel like this trip was a good thing.

Teito emerged from the bathroom rubbing a towel over his head, with the spare one slung around his hips. "You're hogging the pillows," he accused Frau after one look. "Hand over mine."

Frau blew smoke at the ceiling. "Since I'm paying for the rooms," he mused, "I think they're actually all my pillows."

"The Church is paying, you leech. Gimme." Teito made to grab some of the pillows out from behind Frau, dodging his elbow. "Mortification of the flesh is supposed to be virtuous, isn't it? You're the bishop, act like it!"

"Since when do I give a shit about virtue?" Frau demanded, grabbing for those thieving hands.

Teito froze in his grip and his bared teeth slowly faded into a frown. "How long have you been sitting there in nothing but a towel?" The frown was turning into a real glare. "You've gotten cold again!" He stomped around the room pulling blankets out of the cupboard and threw them over Frau, tugging them roughly around him. Frau watched the performance with a certain sardonic amusement. Having Capella around had turned on the kid's mothering instincts for good, it looked like.

"You do realize that, without body heat to start with, these aren't going to do any good?" He took a drag on his cigarette, mouth quirked as Teito glared some more.

"Fine, then!"

Frau blinked as the kid marched over to the bed and slung a leg over Frau's thighs, settling firmly onto his lap. Teito pulled the blankets around both of them and gave Frau a look that dared him to object. "There."

Frau sighed. "You're too damn stubborn for anyone's good. It doesn't hurt or anything, you know."

"It isn't right," Teito said, low and fierce and not looking at him. "It isn't right for you to be cold."

Frau rested a hand on the kid's head, ruffling his hair. "Yeah, it is," he said quietly. "Because this is what I am."

Teito frowned at him. "Well...! Well, then, fine! But..." he wrapped his arms firmly around Frau's neck, "then this is warm too, isn't it?" He leaned in closer and brushed his lips over Frau's, unpracticed and unhesitating.

Frau stilled, eyes widening at that soft and completely unexpected pressure. "Wha..." He closed his hands on Teito's shoulders, moving him back a little. "Haven't you ever heard of a metaphor, you little maniac?" he demanded. All his damn church training was suddenly screaming in his ear. It was usually only the tedious rules about chastity that got him in trouble, and he didn't give a damn about those. But the one law about what a person got up to in his own bed that he agreed with wholeheartedly was that no one should ever, ever abuse the trust of the children sheltered by the Church.

Teito gave him one of those rare, clear-eyed looks that made Frau think maybe Castor hadn't been completely insane to nominate the kid as a bishop. "You're not dead," he stated, like it was a known fact, and shook his head as Frau opened his mouth to protest. "You died, but you're not dead. I've made a lot of dead bodies, Frau, and this," he put a hand flat against Frau's bare chest, "isn't like that. Your heart doesn't beat, but your blood still flows. You move and breathe, but you don't have any body heat. That's impossible." He gave Frau a look like the laws of physics were his personal fault. "So. You're a spirit-body, aren't you?"

Frau settled back. He was just a tiny bit impressed. Maybe. "That's pretty much what we figure, yeah. I mean, with the transforming into huge skeletons and all."

Teito nodded, satisfied. "I thought so. So, it isn't just physical heat that can help, right?"

Frau opened his mouth and closed it again. And here he'd thought they'd gotten safely onto theology and away from disturbingly warm kisses. "That doesn't mean..." He trailed off.

Teito smiled, smugly aware he'd won that point, the little shit. "Yes, it does." And he hauled off and kissed Frau again, more confident this time.

Frau got a hold of the kid's nape to pull him back, which... didn't actually help as much as it should, because Teito made an extremely distracting sound. "Look," Frau said as flatly as he could, "you're too young."

Teito arched both brows, clearly unimpressed. "It's the new year, right? So I'm sixteen." He prodded Frau in the chest with a finger. "What were you doing when you were sixteen, huh?"

From the way the kid suddenly smirked, Frau was pretty sure he'd turned a little red. He considered it evidence of a cruel universe that that still happened to a dead man. "Yeah, and maybe if I were sixteen, like the girls I was, yes, okay fine, sleeping with whenever I could escape the damn robes, that would mean something. So how about we just say I'm too old?" And why couldn't the brat have jumped his partner, like half the baby bishops always wound up doing once the exam heated up?

Teito folded his arms on Frau's chest and remarked. "Funny you should mention that. I asked Labrador-san, you know. Turns out you're only twenty."

Frau closed his eyes, silently cursing Labrador to... to... to an annoying leaf-wilt problem or something. "Teito..." He broke off, breath catching, because Teito had taken the opportunity to press up close against him, skin to skin. The kid really was warm.

"I want you to be warm," Teito said quietly against his ear. "And I want... to know what this is." He rested his temple against Frau's and muttered, "And I trust you, okay?"

Frau gave up and wrapped his arms around Teito, holding him tight and stomping as hard as he could on the stirring interest of the scythe. Sometimes the kid really did remind him so much of himself that it hurt. "You're an idiot."

It was time to deal with this logically, Frau told himself, ignoring the way he couldn't make himself let go. The brat really was sixteen, scrawniness notwithstanding, and that was the age of consent across the Empire. So the rules could shut up. The brat was also world-bendingly stubborn (and kind of unfairly cute when he wasn't growling and snapping like a bear after winter). So Frau needed a good reason, if he wanted to get out of this. Did he have a good reason? Did he want to get out of this?

Only silence answered that question, inside of him. Waiting silence.

Teito finally drew a shaky breath and pulled back enough to grin at him, almost as convincingly annoying as usual. "I mean, aren't you supposed to know all about this stuff? Or do you just talk a good line?"

Just because a man's heart wasn't beating any more didn't mean it couldn't squeeze tight. Frau hadn't loved all that terribly often, in his life, but he knew when someone was getting to him. This one... had gotten to him. His mouth quirked and he slid a hand up to cradle Teito's head. "Brat," he said, just a little husky.

For once, Teito didn't take a return shot. Just looked at him, eyes dark and questioning. Frau didn't know what the question was, or what answer Teito saw, but after a moment Teito smiled a little and leaned forward again. This time Frau kissed back, gentle and careful.

Frau had known from the moment he saw the kid move that Teito was trained, and trained to kill. Teito moved fast and sure and fluid, when he wasn't in a rage, always poised, always ready. The readiness had quieted slowly, over the last few months, and Frau had hoped it meant Teito was relaxing from that edge. Maybe he was, but now, feeling how long it took Teito to unwind as he settled against Frau's chest, Frau thought he still had a long way to go.

Which made him feel ridiculously fucking protective of the little brat.

So he kissed Teito slow and easy, with helplessly exasperated tenderness, until Teito was flushed and pressing close. Maybe it was just the heat of Teito's body against his, skin to skin under the blankets; or maybe it was the way Teito's tongue stroked over his and Teito sighed as he relaxed and stretched out against Frau's chest; or maybe it really was Teito's living heart touching his. Whatever the truth, Frau was warm again.

In fact, Frau might just have been a little flushed himself by the time Teito drew back and tucked his head down against Frau's shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, husky, running a hand slowly up and down Teito's back.

"Yeah," Teito answered softly, not moving. After a moment, Frau felt Teito's lips curve against his shoulder. "I guess you're not all talk. It might be nice to do that some more some time."

Frau snorted, trying to stifle the enthusiastic votes yes from both his cock and the scythe. "Damn brat."

"Now give me half those pillows."

Frau grinned against Teito's dark hair. "What if I say no?"

The fight for the pillows left the room a mess, but Frau had to admit it took care of any awkwardness.

Two

Frau had managed to kick Castor and Labrador out of his room in F3's frozen tourist trap by the time Teito was done with his bath, and had stretched out in his bed, arms folded behind his head. He watched the kid through half-closed eyes as Teito neatly and automatically folded and hung his towel and laid out his clothes for the next day of the race. He didn't look too much the worse for his encounter with the scythe, even though Frau's fingertips still tingled with the sensation of reaching into Teito's chest, stretching out after his bright soul.

Well, Frau had always known Teito was a tough little bastard, and too stubborn to quit.

Every inch of that stubbornness was in Teito's eyes as he pulled on his nightshirt and made for Frau's bed instead of his own. Frau stiffened. "Teito..."

"Shut up," Teito told him, burrowing under the blankets and wrapping around Frau like one of Labrador's climbing vines. "You're an idiot, you know that? The more I think about it, the more obvious it is."

Frau breathed in and out, carefully, holding down the leap of the scythe's hunger. "Are you actually trying to get eaten?" he bit out. "After you saw yourself what can happen..."

Teito pushed himself up on one elbow, glaring. "I told you! I'll pull you out of that scythe as many times as it takes! So quit using it as an excuse!"

"Excuse?!" Frau was glaring now, too. "Listen, brat—" He had to break off, jaw tight, and fight down another surge of hunger from the scythe. It growled silently, nearly drooling in Teito's direction.

As if he could hear it, Teito growled back. His right hand flashed over to clamp tight on Frau's forearm, over the name incised there. "You," Teito said, low and cold and deadly, "back off." A flicker of red shone around his hand for one breath, and Teito's grip tightened. "He's mine."

That was outrageous enough that Frau opened his mouth to protest. His jaw just hung there, though, when the scythe grudgingly settled under Teito's hand. "What the fuck?"

Teito's grip eased a little and he glanced aside. "Mikhail," he muttered. "There's still a connection even when we're apart. I guess I don't have to do anything formal, when I really need him."

That did, actually, explain a few things. Just not the one about why Frau should mean enough for Teito to risk stressing his soul that way. "And you have the nerve to say I'm an idiot," Frau scolded, closing his other hand on Teito's nape to shake him. Teito shrugged and looked up again with a tiny smile.

"It was important," he insisted, completely unabashed.

"Important, huh?" Frau narrowed his eyes, an expression that sent lowlife of all kinds running in terror and had no effect whatsoever on Teito. Damn it. He tried another tack. "And what's this about me being yours?"

Teito lifted his chin stubbornly. "You are. My bishop. My mentor. Mine, not the scythe's!"

Frau let his head fall back against the pillow, groaning. "Fuck. And I always thought Castor was joking when he said God would punish me some day."

Teito pressed close again, arms wound around Frau's shoulders. "I'm sure He'll get to it eventually."

Frau's mouth quirked and he slid a hand into Teito's hair. "Think He has already." He sighed, more or less resigned to being the kid's pillow and just glad that Teito hadn't gotten all metaphysical about warming Frau up again. Castor really would break in and try to strangle him, then.

On the other hand, it was awfully cold out there, and temper was supposed to heat people up too, right? Frau smirked at the ceiling for a moment before reaching down to lift Teito's chin and kiss him, light and gentle. He forgot the part about yanking Castor's chain for a moment as Teito relaxed against him, eyes softening as he smiled up at Frau.

"Go to sleep, brat," Frau said quietly.

Teito made an agreeable sound and snuggled down into the blankets and Frau, and a completely helpless smile tugged at Frau's mouth.

It turned wide and wicked a moment later, when he heard faint, muffled yelling over the sound of the storm outside, rather as if some manipulative bastard of a bishop was losing his grip and being wrapped up in ice roses by his partner to keep him from breaking in.

Frau closed his eyes, still smirking, and composed himself to sleep.

Three

Frau was aware of all the reasons that restoring the Eye of Mikhail to Teito was necessary, both for Teito and for the rest of the world. He didn't exactly regret it.

But the first time he looked down at Teito, curled up against him in bed, to see a pair of vastly unimpressed red eyes glaring up at him, he swore his heart started beating against just so it could stop.

"You," Mikhail declared, as if it were the worst insult possible. "You have been taking liberties with my master."

That was unfair enough to snap Frau out of his shock. "I damn well have not! Do you have any idea how stubborn the brat is? It's all I could do to convince him he's still too small to be fucked by someone my size!"

Mikhail tossed the covers back and looked him up and down disdainfully, which was the kind of thing that could give a man a complex. "Hmph." He settled back against the pillows like they were a throne, crossing Teito's arms sulkily. "Well, since you seem to belong to my master now, I suppose I won't do anything about this." He held up a finger and eyed Frau sternly. "As long as you don't get above yourself!"

And then he was gone, and it was Teito's eyes staring up at him again.

Teito, who promptly dissolved into laughter. "Your face!" he managed.

Frau sputtered. He couldn't help it. "Belong to you?" he demanded, outraged. "The cat-eyed bastard doesn't mind as long as I don't get above myself?!" His voice was echoing off the walls. Teito was still laughing, collapsed among the pillows with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Frau gave him a dour look. "And if you think you're getting anything out of me tonight..."

Teito caught his breath and crawled into Frau's lap, grinning. "Would that count as getting above yourself, if you don't do what I want you to do?" he asked, winding his arms around Frau's shoulders.

Frau growled and flipped them over, pinning Teito to the bed under him. "...show you 'above myself'..." He caught that laughing mouth and kissed Teito deep and hard.

Of course, given the breathy sounds Teito made and the way he arched up against Frau, that might have been the whole idea. "Mmm. Frau." Teito wrapped his legs around Frau's hips and rubbed his ass against Frau's cock.

"Not until you're five inches taller, goddamnit," Frau gasped, and tried not to show his response when Teito growled. If the brat ever realized just how close he was to getting his way, Frau knew he'd be doomed. And the fact was, Teito was way too impatient to keep from hurting himself, so Frau was the one who had to have self control for both of them.

Frau expected a goddamn sainthood out of this, he really did.

Fortunately, Teito was also pretty distractible, as long as you came up a good enough alternative. Frau slid down his body, tracing the hard muscles of Teito's stomach with his tongue by way of suggestion. He grinned when Teito let his legs fall back to the bed with a pleased sigh. Teito wasn't actually unreasonable in bed; he just had a knee-jerk reaction to being told he couldn't do something. Frau actually kind of sympathized, at least when the brat wasn't driving him crazy.

Which was why, when he closed his mouth around Teito's cock, he didn't tease, just sucked wet and hard until Teito's hips came up off the bed. Frau smiled around him a little and flicked his tongue back and forth over Teito's head. Teito moaned, hands working hard against Frau's shoulders, and rocked up into Frau's mouth.

It was always moments like these that made Frau reconsider his "not for five inches" rule. Teito was pretty well developed, and there wasn't an inch of childish softness anywhere on his body. When the weight of Teito's cock was sliding over his tongue it was a little hard to remember why he kept insisting they wait.

"Frau," Teito gasped, body pulling taut. Frau made an approving sound and sucked Teito down all the way, and swallowed slowly around him. The cut-off moan that answered as Teito came undone, shuddering under him, would have made him purr except his mouth was full. So he just thought it.

Well, that and smiled smugly down at Teito once he'd kissed his way back up his body, head propped up on one hand. Teito laughed, breathless. "You look like one of the cathedral cats who just stole fish from the fountain," he told Frau.

"I got you to stop arguing," Frau pointed out. "I think that's pretty damn impressive, myself."

"So why are you reminding me of it again now?" Teito wanted to know, reaching up to trace his fingers over Frau's mouth.

Frau smiled wickedly. "Never said I didn't think the arguing was fun."

Teito growled, and locked one leg around his and flipped them over. Frau smirked up at him, folding his arms behind his head. "Yeah? Something to add?"

"I think so, yes." Teito's eyes glinted down at him, and then he was sliding down Frau's body and pushing his legs apart to settle between them. The look he gave Frau as he leaned over was nearly as wicked as the one Frau'd given him.

Frau managed to stay relaxed and casual right up until Teito's mouth closed on him, and then he had to grab for the headboard. It was the same every time and he never got used to the heat of a living mouth. If fire could be slick and wet, it was like having fire slide down his cock, and Teito took his time about it. Frau moaned, low and open, and rocked up a little; Teito moved with him, lips wrapped just around Frau's head. Frau swore, breathless, and Teito snickered.

Evil little bastard was learning Castor's sense of humor.

When Teito finally slid his mouth further down, Frau shuddered. The heat, the life, the intensity of it were like nothing else, and the strength of Teito's hand working up and down his cock, slick and confident, felt like the only thing anchoring him to the world.

"Teito," Frau gasped, warning. He never lasted long when they did this. Teito drew back reluctantly, tongue flicking over him one last time.

"Mm. Just think what it would be like if you were inside me," he murmured thoughtfully, hand stroking hard down Frau's cock.

Frau couldn't quite help thinking, about heat and tightness, and the headboard creaked under his hands as pleasure hammered through him. "Teito...!"

When he caught his breath, the brat was still laughing. "I'll have to try that again," he grinned, elbows braced across Frau's chest. Frau growled and hauled him down to a rough kiss that Teito leaned into readily.

A fucking sainthood, Frau swore.

Four

It hadn't been Frau's idea, the first time he wound up in bed with Teito Klein. It hadn't been his idea to start sharing a bed, whether they did anything more interesting with it than sleep or not. It had been his idea to teach the kid how to use his hands and mouth, but only in self defense. Because the biggest thing that wasn't his idea was actually fucking someone as slight as Teito with what was, no undue modesty, a damn big cock. He'd held tight to a rule of "not until you're five inches taller" and insisted that he was not going to fuck someone who didn't at least come up to his chin.

Teito had pouted. He'd called Frau a chicken. He'd done some really, really unfair things with his mouth and asked Frau again immediately afterward. And eventually he'd gotten quiet and looked up at Frau all clear-eyed and said, "Please".

Which was how Frau had come to be leaning back against a handful of pillows with Teito straddling his lap and lying against his chest while Frau rubbed slow, gentle fingers between his cheeks. "We're taking this slow, understand?" he murmured against Teito's hair.

Teito nodded against his shoulder, arms tightening a little around his neck. "I know. I won't push."

Frau's lips quirked; he didn't trust that to last very long at all. It was a good start, though. "Okay. Try to stay relaxed, then." He dipped his fingers in the jar of gel he'd wedged against their pillows, because he'd damn well bought economy size this time, and circled his fingers over Teito's entrance, slow and hard. Teito's muscles clenched and gradually relaxed as he breathed out. Frau kept his fingers moving slow and easy, and after a few more breaths Teito gave a soft moan. Frau took a tighter grip on his self-control and pressed a finger into Teito.

Teito's muscles tightened again sharply, and Frau waited for him to relax again before moving. "All right?" he asked quietly, stroking that one finger inside Teito.

"Yeah." Teito sounded a little breathless. "Yeah, it's okay."

"How does it feel?" Frau pressed, because if Teito was uncomfortable with the length of his finger, he'd need to hold himself back hard from thrusting into the kid later.

A breath of a laugh, and another quick clench of muscles. "It feels like you." After a moment, Teito added, "I like feeling you."

Frau closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Teito's hair. He'd long ago given himself up for lost. Teito had gotten to him, all the way into him, right down to the heart. Just knowing didn't mean it wasn't new and terrifyingly warm, though, every time Teito said something like that. "Glad for that," he said, husky. Teito looked up at him with a small smile and flushed cheeks, and Frau smiled back wryly. "Ready for more?"

Teito nodded and laid his head back down on Frau's shoulder, breathing in and out and deliberately relaxing. Frau gathered him up a little closer and pressed a second finger in. It went easily, and Teito made a low sound that Frau was pretty damn sure wasn't discomfort. He worked them in and out slowly, and Teito stretched against him a little, muscles working around his fingers easily now. He could feel Teito was half hard against him, and spent a moment breathing deeply himself.

"Mmm." Teito pushed his hips against Frau's. "Frau..."

"Yeah, okay." Frau pulled out carefully and scooped up more of the gel. "Tell me if it hurts at all, right?"

"I will," Teito promised, and Frau could just about hear him rolling his eyes. He snorted softly and pulled Teito close, so he could listen to his body as well as his words, and pushed three fingers into his ass. It was tight, and Frau went very slow, listening to each hitch in Teito's breath, waiting out each clench of his muscles. Eventually, though, his fingers were all the way in and Teito was moaning softly against his shoulder.

"Frau, move."

"Pushy," Frau muttered, a bit husky. But he did as Teito asked, sliding his fingers out to the knuckle and then slowly back in. And again. Teito moaned every time his fingers slid all the way home, and Frau was starting to wonder if he was going to have to eat his words because it sure as hell sounded like Teito really liked being stretched open hard. And it felt like he could take it.

"Not pushy," Teito panted. "Just... ohh... want to feel you." He ground his hips against Frau's and they both groaned.

"Fuck, all right, you win, okay?" Frau kissed the start of a grin off Teito's mouth, fiercely, and Teito wound his arms tighter around Frau's neck and kissed back, eyes dark and half closed. Frau groped for the gel again, still kissing Teito, and slicked it over his cock. Teito obligingly slid up a little, and Frau's arm tightened around him. "Slow," he growled against Teito's mouth, guiding his cock against Teito.

Teito huffed, but let Frau set their pace. His head tipped back and he gasped sharply as Frau started to push in. "Ahh... oh..." His arms tightened as Frau hesitated. "Don't stop."

Frau, already breathing hard with the burn of pleasure down his nerves, clenched his jaw and pushed up into Teito bit by tiny bit. And then he was in, sliding in smoothly, and Teito's gasps turned into a throaty moan. The alarming tightness of his body eased and he lay against Frau's chest panting as Frau pressed most of the way in.

"You okay?" Frau managed, husky, holding him tight, lightheaded with the burning heat of Teito's body.

"Mm, yeah." Teito slowly pushed himself upright against Frau's chest, lips parted as he settled down a little further onto Frau. "Oh..."

Frau swore fervently, hands tight on Teito's hips, and Teito grinned breathlessly at him, the little bastard. "I am going to be so glad when you are five goddamn inches taller," Frau growled, "so that I can pound your ass into the mattress like you fucking well deserve." In lieu of that, he flexed his hips slow and hard, drawing back and driving up into Teito again, careful not to push in too far. Teito lost the grin, at least, as he clutched Frau's shoulders and moaned out loud.

"Feels good," Teito breathed as Frau fucked him slowly. "Hard..."

And, yeah, Frau could feel how hard Teito was stretched around him, and it was driving him a little crazy to have all that living, branding heat locked so tight around him. "Teito..."

Teito arched over him and sighed, eyes half closed as he pushed down to meet Frau, and Frau groaned. One of these days, he swore, the kid really was going to kill him.

Today, though, was his first time doing this, and Frau knew going too long would be a mistake. So he stroked a hand down the leanness of Teito's body to wrap around his cock and pump it slow and hard.

"Ahh!" Teito's hands clenched on Frau's shoulders again, and Frau watched him, drinking in the life and brilliance of him, the abandon as Teito rocked wantonly between his hand and his cock. The way his name spilled from Teito's lips made something hot and possessive tighten through him. When Teito's body finally clamped down around him, he growled, driving up into that tightness with short, hungry thrusts until pleasure raked him over the edge.

When the fire finally stopped wringing his nerves out, Frau gathered Teito back down against him and eased carefully out. Teito winced, and Frau rubbed a hand up and down his back. "Okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Teito answered, just as soft. And then he poked Frau in the chest. "And it didn't hurt."

Frau snorted and slid his hand down to cup Teito's ass gently. "If you can ride the damn hawkzile tomorrow and still say that, I'll be impressed." He could feel Teito's face heat against his shoulder and chuckled, threading his fingers into Teito's hair. "I'm a little impressed already," he admitted.

Teito glanced up with a rare, unguarded smile, bright and sweet. Frau held him closer and tried not to self-evidently melt into a puddle of pathetic gooeyness.

Teito would seriously be the death of him, some day. Frau was becoming increasingly sure of this, and not in a metaphorical way, because life was a bastard like that.

For as long as he had, though, Frau would stay close to the pure warmth and insane stubbornness of Teito's heart, and be grateful.

End

Come Along With Me

Teito really wishes he could get Frau to stop being quite so overprotective. For the Oh My God We Need Some Porn in here Stat meme, and the prompt Frau/Teito, size difference. Porn, Fluff, I-4

Teito really liked going to bed with Frau. It was hot and alive, and if it was strange that he'd found those things with a technically dead man... well, no one knew better than he did that life was weird that way.

Now if he could just work Frau past his over-protectiveness.

Teito moaned into Frau's mouth as long, strong fingers slid deeper into his ass, and nipped at Frau's lower lip. "Frau, come on."

"Teito..."

He could already tell, just from the tone, that Frau was about to insist on preparing him for longer, and glared. "Shut up." Teito wrapped his legs around Frau's hips and rocked up against him hard. He smiled when Frau forgot to be careful for a moment and ground down to meet him, pinning Teito against the bed with his weight, one hand closed tight on his ass.

"Nngh..." Frau glared back at him, eyes dilated and dark. "Damn it, brat."

Teito grinned, rubbing up against the hard line of Frau's cock. "Come on and fuck me," he half coaxed and half demanded. "Fuck me now."

Frau growled and kissed him, deep and hot, and Teito relaxed. Now they were getting somewhere. He let Frau lay him back against the sheets, because he really did know that he had to be relaxed to take Frau in. He made a husky sound at the blunt, thick press of Frau's cock between his cheeks, the promise of it, and, when Frau hesitated, he looked up and murmured, "Please."

Frau gave in, the way he almost always did when Teito asked like that, and pushed into him slowly, eyes sharp on Teito's face.

Teito tossed his head back and moaned openly, hands working against Frau's shoulders. "Yes... oh yes... Frau..." His breath was broken into gasps by how fiercely Frau's cock stretched his body, so intense he wondered every time if he'd be able to take it for long enough. And then, every time, the stretch turned into a hot slide into his ass, and feeling the hardness of Frau inside him, holding him open, made him shudder. "God, Frau, this," he panted. "This, please, fuck me."

And however he complained about Frau's over-protectiveness, he liked the feeling of Frau's arms gathering him up and holding him while Frau's cock worked in and out of him. Sheer sensation washed away the rest of the world; he couldn't think of anything except how big Frau was inside him, the sharp flare of heat every time Frau drove in again, the flex of Frau's hard muscles under his hands, the tenderness of one large hand cradling his head. When the other hand closed around his cock, sure and strong, Teito moaned openly at the pleasure tightening his whole body.

When he came and heat wrung his body hard around the unyielding thickness of Frau's cock, Teito couldn't even moan, only gasp open mouthed. It went on and on, until the edges of Teito's vision started to close in, and even when the intensity snapped and drained away he was still full of Frau. And that was good.

Frau wasn't long behind him, and Teito sprawled under him with a satisfied smile as Frau fucked him with hard, short strokes and finally stilled over him, shuddering. He reached up to pull Frau down against him before Frau could decide he was too heavy. Teito liked Frau's weight holding him against the bed.

Frau smiled down at him wryly, eyes laughing as he panted for breath. "One of these days, brat, you're going to get yourself into trouble."

"So maybe that's what I like," Teito pointed out, reaching up to brush Frau's hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, okay." Frau kissed his forehead gently. "Just... try not to go looking for it, okay?"

Teito smiled up at him. "Only with you," he promised.

From the rueful quirk to Frau's lips, he thought he might finally have gotten through this time.

End

To the Silver Night Sky

After one possible end to canon, Frau discovers that Ghosts tend to get stuck in Tenkai for a while. On the bright side, this means Gido is still around. Adorableness ensues. Also a good deal of sex. Drama, Fluff, Angst, Porn, I-4

In Frau's considered opinion, Heaven sucked.

He'd been here for most of a day, as near as he could tell, stalking around endless gardens. It was like someone had turned Labrador loose and told him to knock himself out.

He was trying not to think about Labrador, or Castor, or anyone else, but the flowers made it kind of hard to avoid Labrador-thoughts.

And there were people here. Other souls, he guessed. But none of them had approached him, he didn't recognize anyone, and he really wasn't in the mood to chat up distracted looking strangers. The melodious birdsong was getting on his nerves, too. His hands felt too light, without his scythe.

But Zehel was gone, now, and the scythe with him. He could feel that much, that stunning weight lifted from the center of his soul. It should probably feel like freedom, but right at the moment it felt more like failure.

He finally slumped down onto the lip of a fountain, hands dangling between his knees. He was dead. Teito wasn't. He was pretty sure Castor and Labrador weren't. That was good.

What the fuck did he do now though?

"Here you are. Been looking all over for you, brat."

Frau jerked like he'd just touched a live wire; that was kind of what it felt like. He knew that voice, or he had a long time ago. Slowly he looked up, hands closing tight on his knees.

There was a man standing in the entrance to this garden, elbow propped up on the ornamental gate. Tall and lean and powerful with black hair and a wry smile with a cigarette dangling from one corner of it. Frau had to swallow twice before he could speak.

"Gido?"

"Large as life," the man said easily. "Figured I should come find you. Give you a chance to get the yelling over with early."

"Yelling?" Frau echoed, husky. Slowly he stood up, almost stumbling as he stepped forward.

Gido lifted his brows. "I was figuring, yeah. For having died. For dropping Zehel in your lap." He blew out a stream of smoke, looking thoughtful. "Damned if I know who's going to take it up now; I don't even know who else is alive, from our House. So, yeah. You can go ahead and yell." Frau just stared at him, completely at a loss, brain spinning with memories he'd tried to put away to keep old pain from eating him hollow. "Or maybe not," Gido finally said quietly. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, and held out a hand. "C'mere, kid."

He dragged Frau close, and oh god he was warm, warm, and solid when Frau wrapped his arms around him. Frau was shaking, throat tight, and something alarmingly close to a sob ripped out of him when Gido's hand settled on his head and ruffled his hair like he used to. Frau buried his head in Gido's shoulder, level with his own now, just to make it all even stranger. "You fucking idiot," he gasped, raggedly, swept up in old pain that swamped the new. "You should have run! Why the hell didn't you run when they came?!"

"Ah, there's the yelling." Gido sounded amused, a little indulgent, so familiar it nearly broke Frau. Gido sighed, settling a hand on the back of Frau's neck. "If I'd run, I wouldn't have been me," he said simply. And then he shook Frau gently. "And don't try to tell me you'd have done any differently if it had been you in charge of the ship. You never ran when you were shepherding Tiashe around the Empire with the entire military on your trail."

Frau lifted his head and glared. "That was different! That was to keep Verloren from awakening, and he was Pandora's Box and I was Zehel for fuck's sake! There was no way out of it."

Gido gave him that faint smile with the steel edge that meant he wasn't going to let Frau bullshit on this one. "And you wouldn't have run even if there had been a way."

Frau's eyes fell under that piercing look. Gido snorted softly. "We can't watch all the time, but I've kept an eye on you when I could, Frau." He chuckled. "Might even have said a few prayers for Bastien, after he picked you up."

Frau flinched.

"Frau." Gido's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Don't let the end of that make you forget everything that came before. He loved you. And you saved him." Quietly he added, "I'm grateful to him for looking after the last of my crew." And then he pulled Frau's head down to his shoulder again, which was good, because more tears were forcing their way out. Frau had forgotten how easily Gido could undo him, how clearly this man had always seen him.

They ended up sitting in one of the mossy nooks by the fountain, boots and coats getting a little tangled up because Frau couldn't quite bring himself to let go. Gido just smiled and settled Frau against his shoulder. Eventually Frau cleared his throat. "So. You stayed up here?"

"Mm." Gido ruffled his fingers absently through Frau's hair. "Yeah, about that. Most souls can turn right around, if that's what they want, but those who have been Ghosts... well, it takes a while to wash that out for most of us. Asyl, the Zehel before me, she's almost ready to go back down I think."

Frau shot upright and stared at him. "I'm stuck here?!"

Gido's smile tilted ruefully. "Figured that was the next bit you'd yell about, yeah."

"But... but... Teito!"

"He's got Mikhail plus the master of Raphael to help him, doesn't he?" The smile spread into a grin. "She reminds me of Magdalena, a little. Only scarier."

"But...!"

"And every last one of the God Houses owes him, and knows it," Gido added. "Last I saw, it looked like the Oaks, in particular, were on his side."

"But...!"

Gido gave Frau a level look. "Frau. You protected him. You kept him alive. You were why he remembered a lot about love. But your part down there is done for now. And," he added practically, "it would be anyway, even if you could turn right around. You really want to wait to grow up again, all antsy and not remembering why?"

Frau let himself fall back against Gido's shoulder with a deliberate thud. "You don't have to have an answer for everything right away, you know," he grumbled.

Gido laughed, wrapping an arm more firmly around him. "What else was I supposed to spend my own time here doing, besides thinking? Well," he allowed, softening, "that and missing you."

Frau ducked his head a little, feeling very young again and a little flustered to hear that from his mentor and leader.

Gido's hand slipped down his neck, thumb running over his choker. "So you kept this, huh?"

And that reminded Frau sharply that he really wasn't all that young any more, because the brush of Gido's fingers over his throat sent a shot of heat right down his spine. Gido's brows rose at the faint sound Frau couldn't quite keep back. His fingers traced over the line of the choker again, slower this time and more deliberate. Frau's chin lifted helplessly as another husky sound caught in his throat.

Gido's mouth quirked up at one corner and Frau swallowed a little nervously. Gido was a good man, a kind one, and Frau's personal model for honor and compassion. But there was no denying he also had a wicked sense of humor. "Gido..."

"Well, that's certainly one way to get you settled down, here." Gido bent his head and dragged his tongue up the line of Frau's throat. The slow, wet warmth made Frau gasp, hand fisting tight in Gido's coat. His head was tipped back again, and he couldn't remember doing that but he wasn't going to complain when Gido was tracking open-mouthed kisses back down his throat and over his chest... and when the hell had Gido gotten Frau's coat undone?

"Gido..." he tried again, though it came out husky and breathless as Gido eased him down against the sun-warmed moss and settled his weight over him.

"Yeah?" Gido asked, leaning on his elbows while he carded his fingers through Frau's hair.

Frau wet his lips, looking up at him. He couldn't deny that he'd had a few dreams that went kind of like this, and when he finally spoke what he said was, "Lose the coat?"

Gido laughed. "That's my Frau."

Frau closed his eyes. "Always," he admitted, softly. At that, Gido's hands closed around his face and Gido kissed him, slow and gentle.

One benefit of dressing the way they both did was that it took less time to get out of. The boots took the longest, because by that time Gido had gone back to nipping and sucking on Frau's throat which made fireworks run right down his spine to his cock and distracted him thoroughly from the buckles. When they were finally both bare, Frau pressed close, winding himself around Gido and drinking in his slow kisses as Gido's hands stroked soothingly down his back. They were so familiar, those hands, that touch, just... not quite this way around. It stunned Frau to realize he'd even shaped his behavior in bed after his captain, his hero, and done it without Gido ever touching him like this before. He had to bury his head against Gido's shoulder and laugh for a while over that. "Always," he whispered again, and Gido's arms tightened around him hard and strong.

"I'm proud of you," he said quietly against Frau's hair. When Frau pressed closer with a soft sound, he set his fingers under Frau's chin and lifted it, kissing him slow and deep. "So proud of you." He ran a hand slowly down Frau's body. "You never left us behind. You kept the laws of your people in your heart all your life." He wrapped a hand around Frau's cock and stroked him, strong and sure. "Don't ever believe you failed us Frau. You never did."

Frau was shaking in the curve of Gido's arm, wide eyed and shocked by the warmth of Gido's words twining around the hot pleasure of his touch. "Gido...!" He was clinging to Gido's shoulders, overwhelmed like he never had been with any other lover. Gido smiled down at him, that very same smile he'd given Frau when Gido had first accepted him on board, and Frau arched up against him, moaning as he came completely undone. Heat tore through him, and Frau shuddered with it, trusting himself blindly to the hands that held him and worked him through it.

When he finally stilled, panting against Gido's shoulder, Gido stroked his hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I've wanted to tell you that for a long time," he murmured.

Frau stirred and smiled up at him. He'd wanted to hear that for a long time; he hadn't realized quite how much. "Thank you."

Gido gathered him a little closer, and held him quietly as Frau lay against him in the boneless warmth of the garden. Eventually the faint sound of Gido's heartbeat eased Frau into a doze.

When Frau woke up again, for a second he didn't remember where he was.

And then he did. Teito, Castor, Labrador, no...

Arms tightened around him when he flinched, and a strong hand slid up his back to knead his neck. "Easy, Frau. Easy."

"Gido." At least that part was real too.

"Right here." There was a grin in Gido's voice as he added, "Done with your beauty nap?"

Frau growled and gave him a shove, which just made Gido laugh.

"Well, in that case, maybe you want to get cleaned up?" Gido sat up and brushed at the flower petals stuck to his chest. "The flowers do kind of get everywhere," he muttered.

"Is there actually such a thing as a shower around here?" Frau wanted to know, rather skeptical. "I haven't seen a damn thing but gardens, fountains, and more gardens since I got here."

Gido's smile curled up in a way that made Frau instantly wary. "I'm sure we can find something that will work."

When he led Frau, through a few more gardens, to what apparently passed for a bath in Heaven, Frau had to just stare for a while. "This place is fucking nuts," he finally stated.

"It's Heaven, it goes a little overboard sometimes," Gido said easily, tossing his boots under one of the benches.

"A little?!"

They were standing at the edge of an insane cross between a fountain, a hot spring, and a reception hall. There were pools and pillars, steam and miniature waterfalls, basins of soap and towels and jars and bottles and (of course) flowers scattered all over.

"Quit being such a wuss and come scrub off," Gido ordered, wading into a pool with water spilling down from a spout shaped like a fucking dragon's mouth, and that was just disturbing. Frau glared, but followed after him.

"Who thought all this up?" he grumbled, ducking under the spout for a moment. He picked up a sponge a little dubiously, but that, at least, seemed to just be a normal sponge.

"You get used to it."

Frau paused, staring at the falling water for a moment, because Gido's voice seemed softer than it needed to be. "Gido—"

Arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back against Gido's chest. "You'll never get clean at this rate," Gido murmured in his ear. "Want some help?" A soapy cloth, rough and nubbly under the suds, ran down his chest.

"Gido," Frau muttered, face a little hot. "For fuck's sake, I'm not a little kid."

"Mm, you know, I noticed that." Gido's hand, covered by the cloth, slid between Frau's legs, over his cock, to cup his balls gently.

"Fuck." Frau leaned back against Gido, breath suddenly short again. Gido just laughed, softly.

"Turn around, I'll get your back."

Frau thought that was backward, but he turned around anyway, and understood when Gido pulled Frau up tight against him. The cloth did scrub over his back, though, and Frau gave in and bent his head, laughing against Gido's shoulder. Slowly he ran his hands, and the sponge, over Gido's back in turn, tracing long, lean muscle and bone. They really were built a lot alike. Not surprising, he supposed, for two of the same House, no matter how wild and scattered that House was. He wondered who would be Zehel now, and whether they would get along with Castor and Labrador. Whether Zehel would protect Teito and that little firebrand Ouka, and their personal Oak, Hakuren.

"You're thinking too much," Gido said against his ear, and Frau gasped as the cloth slid down to rub slow and hard between his cheeks.

Frau leaned against him, hands splayed against Gido's back, and moaned as a finger pressed into him, wrapped in the wet roughness of the cloth. The sensation, the soft-and-rough texture pushing inside him, turned his legs shaky, and he was glad when Gido eased them both down to their knees in the heat of the water. "Stop worrying about the world," Gido murmured to him. "You're done with that responsibility for now."

"But everyone," Frau started, only to gasp as Gido gathered him closer and worked his fingers deeper into him.

"You love them," Gido whispered against his ear. "You saved them. You served them well, and now it's time to trust them, Frau."

Frau wrapped his arms around Gido's chest, panting against his shoulder. "I do," he insisted, ragged as Gido worked the cloth slowly in his ass.

"Then miss them," Gido told him gently. "But don't fear for them." He drew his hand and the cloth back, and Frau slumped against him, breathless.

"Will it really be all right?" he asked, low, and Gido took his face in both hands, dripping warm water as he lifted Frau's head to meet his eyes.

"It will be all right," he answered with such absolute certainty that Frau couldn't help but believe him. Frau nodded a little, accepting his leader's judgement, and Gido kissed him warm and easy. "Come on."

Frau was still just a little shaky around the knees, which Gido, predictably, took as an opportunity to draw him close again as they dried off. "Notice you kept this too," Gido murmured, leaning in to close his teeth lightly on the ear cuff Frau had inherited and tug gently.

Frau leaned against him with a soft moan, eyes half closed. "Fuck, Gido..."

"Well of course; you didn't think we were done yet, did you?" There was a definite gleam in Gido's eyes, and Frau thought about the way Gido had just cleaned him and had to swallow.

"Why?" he finally asked, quietly. Gido didn't pretend not to understand, just smiled and ruffled his fingers through Frau's drying hair.

"Because you need the distraction." His teeth flashed in a grin. "And because you've grown up very nicely." His hands slid down Frau's back to grip his ass and pull him in tighter, and Frau went because, really, he was pretty damn willing to be distracted now and figure out what he was being distracted from later. Teito had put his finger right on the truth, that one night; Gido had been like a god to Frau. Frau had loved Bastien, but it was Gido he'd dreamed about. Being bent over on his knees under Gido, in a muddle of velvety grass and wet towels, had him light-headed and panting even before long, strong fingers spread his ass.

When Gido's tongue dragged slowly over his entrance, response tightened so hard through Frau that he thought he might come from this alone. Gido was taking his time, tongue circling lazily, wet and hot and soft, until Frau was gasping against the towels and pushing back against Gido's hands. When he finally pushed his tongue into Frau, opening him up, Frau could only clutch at the grass and moan. It was good, soft and strong and hot, but it also made him hungry for more.

"Gido," he gasped, pushing back against him and shivering when Gido's hands tightened to hold him still.

"Mm." Slow thumbs worked circles over his ass. "More already?" Gido purred, teasing.

"Fuck yes, please." Frau made a low, wanting sound in his throat as Gido's cock pushed into him, hard and slow and slick with something. Probably from one of the goddamn bottles and jars around here, and oh god, ten years from now would Frau know what was in all of them too? He didn't want to think about that.

Fortunately, there were better things to concentrate on.

"Gido, fuck me," he half begged and half ordered, rocking back into the slow slide of Gido's cock. Gido laughed.

"Demanding, aren't you?" But his grip on Frau's hips shifted and he thrust into Frau so hard Frau saw stars.

"Yes," he moaned as Gido took him at his word and fucked him hard and sure. Gido was not a small man, and the burn of being stretched and filled by him ran down Frau's nerves sweet and hot. It was here and now and perfect, even if here was a bunch of fucking impossible gardens and he'd thought now was too late. It was hope, ground into his skin with every thrust, every stroke of Gido's hands down his ribs, that he'd come back to this, to this man, and maybe that meant the rest of his life and love wasn't gone forever either.

"It's all right, Frau." Gido's voice was husky and breathless, now. "It's all right. Let go." His hand wrapped around Frau's cock, strong and sure, and he drove into Frau's ass hard enough to lift him up off his knees. "Let go. You know I'll catch you."

The words raced through him like lightning, bright and wild, an explosion when they hit the building fire of body-pleasure. Frau cried out with the shock of it as sweetness scythed through him, so sharp it almost cut. It wrung his body out like a rag until he could barely breathe, only shudder with the force of it, of his response to Gido's care. Gido's low, vibrant moan answered him, deep as a kiss, and Frau gasped as Gido thrust hard into him and stilled.

"Fuck," Gido sighed, finally, and Frau could only make a wordless noise of agreement. He collapsed on the towels as Gido drew back and let him down, ass throbbing very pleasantly. The brush of Gido's lips over the back of his neck made him bend his head, shivering softly. Gido's hand stroked down his back, gentle.

"Too bad you weren't that quick to follow my orders back on the Aegis," he teased lightly.

Frau stirred and turned his head to look up at him, mouth quirking. "I always obeyed you."

Gido snorted and reached over to fish two cigarettes out of his coat pocket, offering one to Frau. "Bullshit."

Frau stole his lighter and sucked in a slow breath of smoke. "It's true," he insisted as Gido snatched the lighter back and cuffed him lightly. "I yelled at you and argued with you and called you every name I ever learned, when you were being stupid. But I never disobeyed you, once you actually gave an order."

Gido looked down at him for a long moment. "Yeah," he finally said softly, fingers sliding through Frau's hair. "I know." When he pulled Frau close again, Frau went willingly, content for a while to just soak up the warmth of being here, of being with Gido once again.

He figured they'd probably get around to the yelling again in time, but for now this was much better.

Eventually, after another couple cigarettes and another dunk in the crazed baths, they finally got around to getting dressed again. Frau thought about that for a while, leaning against Gido's knees. Gido was sprawled back on the marble edge of a fountain, which made a handy bench Frau supposed, but Frau had settled on the much softer grass at his feet. It had been a while since he'd been fucked that hard, after all. Besides, this meant Gido was combing his fingers slowly through Frau's hair, and Frau kind of wanted that comfort while he thought.

He thought he might know what Gido had been doing for the last few hours, and his guess warmed him and, at the same time, scared him that Gido had thought it was necessary. What had gone on right after he died, that Gido thought he needed to be braced or cushioned against it? Only one way to find out.

"So," he said quietly. "Am I calm enough, now? For you to let me see whatever it is that lets us watch the mortal world? To see what's happened to them?"

Gido's hand in his hair paused for a moment. "You always were sharp," Gido murmured. "Look at me."

Frau raised his head from Gido's knee and looked up to meet his eyes, dark and steady and serious. "Do you think you're ready?" Gido asked. "To see the people you love, ones you probably won't see in person for a long time?"

Frau remembered Gido asking him, in exactly that voice, if he was coming along, when he agreed to let Frau fly with him. He remembered that had been the last time he'd seen Magdalena. And then he had to close his eyes for a second and swallow hard.

"This was the first thing you taught me," he finally said, husky. "To gain something, you usually have to give something else up." And then he laughed, a little unsteady but true, remembering something else. "Well, maybe the second thing." He opened his eyes again and looked up at Gido with a tilted smile. "The first was If no one else will reach out their hand, I will. If it's important enough... you do it anyway."

The light of Gido's slow smile, the open pride in it, in him, made Frau glance aside, face a little hot. It was a small calm in his heart, though—a little place to stand and rest. He had done what needed to be done, what he knew was right, and he'd found one of his homes again on the other side of that choice.

"If you want to see it, I'll show you," Gido said, softly. Frau nodded silently and Gido stood, tugging Frau up with him.

As they walked through yet more of the endless gardens, Gido explained quietly. "There's a lake. We're pretty sure it's what the Lord of Heaven uses to keep an eye on the mortal world, but other souls can influence it around the edges, too. If the ones you want to see are present enough in your heart and mind, the lake will show them to you." His mouth twisted, eyes fixed ahead of them. "It's a mixed blessing, if it's a blessing at all. It nearly destroyed Kreuz. The last Vertrag," he added, glancing over at Frau. "Tiashe's guardian. What happened to the kid was... well. It was pretty bitter, even for those of us who'd only met the kid once. Kreuz was Tiashe's second dad; he nearly tore his soul apart, watching what those Barsburg bastards did to him and not being able to do a thing about it." He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "In the end, Gala grew some mary-flower and made him sleep. These gardens listen a little to the blood of Profe, even when they're not Ghosts any more. Good thing, too. He's doing better these days, at least." Gido smiled over at him. "Helped when you and the kid met up."

Frau could understand, now, exactly why Gido had wanted to make sure Frau was settled down before showing him this lake, even if he was tempted to call the man an overprotective old hen. But then the bits of information rearranged themselves in his head and his feet froze to the ground.

"Frau?" Gido looked back over his shoulder, brows raised.

"So, um. Kreuz. Has been watching again, huh?" Frau swallowed. "Just how much has 'Teito's second dad' been watching?"

Gido blinked once or twice before it seemed to click for him too and he threw his head back and laughed, open and rich. "Oh, don't worry." That would have been more reassuring if Gido hadn't been snickering. "He thinks the two of you are cute. Got downright doting about it whenever Tiashe started bossing you around in bed."

"He did not..." Frau glared as Gido broke up laughing again. Gido just slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, kid, he really did. It was cute."

Frau let himself be towed along, growling under his breath.

The lake, he had to admit, was a little unnerving, when they got there. There were other people gathered here and there around the edge, and the looks on their faces made Frau's nerves tighten. The first thing he thought, seeing them, was Kor. All too many of them wore the expression of someone listening to a Kor. "Gido," he said, tight and quiet.

"A mixed blessing," Gido answered, low, not looking at him. "Ghosts aren't the only souls that can get stuck, here."

That tone, that not-look, were a warning Frau recognized from the Aegis. There was, perhaps, someone listening that they shouldn't speak too freely in front of. Some things were constants, whether in the celestial world or the mortal one. Considering they'd all figured it had been a celestial messenger that had really convinced the Pope to make Teito Pandora's Box, it wasn't all that surprising. Frau nodded, disarmingly casual, and knelt at the edge of the water.

The lapping wavelets stilled, smooth as glass, and Frau's breath caught to see Teito reflected there. He'd thought he would have to do more. But no, there was Teito, sitting with Hakuren and Ouka around a small round table stacked with paper and cluttered with carafes and glasses, as Kururu chased Mikage from chair back to chair back. Frau didn't realize how tight his fingers had closed on the grass of the shore until Gido's hands settled on his shoulders and squeezed.

He watched the three of them trade lists and portfolios around, listened to Ouka's opinion of this noble and Hakuren's thoughts on that priest and Teito's quiet remarks on some general, soft and clear as if they were in the next room. It hurt, like a fist closed around his heart, to see them, so clear and so distant. And it soothed too, to watch them, safe and alive and obviously planning to take over the world though none of them would probably put it that way.

And then Hakuren said, without looking up from his file, "A message came from Castor-sama today. They're safe back at the cathedral."

Teito flinched.

"Teito," Ouka said softly, reaching across to catch one of his hands.

"I'm all right," he said hastily. "It's fine."

Hakuren threw his folder on the table and glared at him. "You are not. When are you going to take your own advice and let yourself mourn for him?"

"We don't have time." Teito didn't sound very sure, though, and he was clinging to Ouka's hand.

"The world isn't falling apart this instant," Hakuren said firmly. "We have time." He pushed his chair back and came to kneel beside Teito's, hand on his shoulder. More gently, he added, "I miss Frau-sama too."

As if the name had been all it needed to unlock Teito's resistance, he slumped back in his chair with a stifled sound of grief, curling in on himself. Hakuren promptly pulled him out of the chair and into his arms, and Ouka came around the table to wind her arms around both of them.

"You loved him," she said softly, stroking Teito's hair as he shuddered. "And he was a good man. It's all right."

"So dark without him," Teito whispered roughly against Hakuren's shoulder, and Hakuren's arms tightened hard.

"Open your eyes," Hakuren ordered, rather husky himself. "Some of the light he showed you was your own, Teito, don't ever doubt that. Don't you dare."

Some muttering answered that, out of which Frau could only hear bossy. "Miss him," Teito added, a little more audibly. Ouka rested her cheek against his hair.

"You should miss him," she said softly. "When someone leaves, of course we miss them. It hurts less, with time, but we always miss them." She took a deep breath. "But that's just the proof that your heart and your light are alive. And that means you can keep on loving people, and they can help you when it hurts."

Teito broke down for real, then, shaking in their arms, and Frau watched them, eyes burning, as Hakuren and Ouka sat on the floor and held him through it. Mikage joined them to burrow against Teito's cheek and make anxious chirps at him, and when Teito finally lifted his head it was Mikage who got a damp smile. "Thanks," Teito said quietly, scrubbing a sleeve over his face. Hakuren tsked at him and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and Teito rolled his eyes, and Ouka giggled, and they all relaxed a little.

Teito straightened and stretched slowly, and accepted a glass of water Hakuren poured him. "So." He glanced up reluctantly at the table full of paper. "Who should we be supporting for Field Marshal?"

"I think it will have to be Myers," Ouka said practically, tucking her skirts in around her knees and staying beside him. "He's the only one willing to even think about releasing the Raggs Kingdom slaves, even now we're betrothed."

Frau drew back from the water, softly as if they could hear him in turn, and their image faded, still arguing. The last thing he saw was Hakuren's hand brushing Teito's hair protectively. "Idiot," he whispered, husky. "The light was all your own."

"Who's the idiot, again?" Gido's voice startled him, and he squawked a bit when Gido pulled him in close and Frau more or less collapsed against him. He was shaking, he realized, tremors like a bone-deep chill. Gido's hand closed on the nape of his neck, strong and warm, kneading a little of the shaking out. "I swear, each of you brats is just as bad as each other."

"What... what do you mean?" Frau asked, pressing his forehead against Gido's shoulder and trying to catch his breath.

"I mean," Gido told him dryly, "that both of you have souls that burn so pure it's amazing you don't blind innocent onlookers; and neither of you seem to believe it."

The words brought back the brilliance of Teito's soul, the taste of it on his tongue, the warmth of it that promised to call Frau back from any darkness, and loss clawed at Frau all over again. Gido held him close and quiet as Frau's hands twisted tight in his coat, and Frau's breath caught and heaved with the pain.

"Listen to the girl's wisdom, Frau," Gido murmured to him. "And know that you'll see Tiashe again."

"But he won't stay, and I can't leave." That thought hurt almost as badly as losing Teito already had—it was going to happen again, and there was nothing he could do...

Gido sighed. "Idiot." He rapped Frau briskly over the head. "What did I just say about your soul?"

"But..." Frau pushed upright against him, staring. "You said the Ghosts..."

"Are stuck here for a while. But unless he dies unimaginably young for a master of the Eye of Mikhail, you'll be ready to go back with him." He smiled and ruffled Frau's hair. "Do try to remember why you're the only one of us who could handle that damn scythe. I'm not the foreseer among us, but I'll tell you this much of your future: Zehel's mark will be burned from your soul in plenty of time."

Frau leaned back into the shelter of Gido's assurance, shaken worse than ever by the thought that he might find Teito again, as he'd found Gido. "Thank you," he whispered. He didn't like to think about what might have happened to him at this lake if he hadn't had Gido to ground him and guide him through it.

"None needed," Gido told him gently. "Come on, then." He stood, urging Frau up with him. "Let's find you a place to stay."

"Is it going to be as insane as the baths?" Frau asked, casting a suspicious eye around at the unrelentingly out-doorsy landscape. Gido snorted.

"Not that bad. Most people aren't here long enough to need anything, and a lot of the ones who stay aren't in any shape to notice," he didn't look back at the captive souls by the lake, but Frau shivered anyway, "so there are only a few of us who use it. We're back in a corner by the woods."

It took a while to get anywhere near the woods, but eventually they came into sight of some very tall walls and spires. Walls which, as they got closer, formed a building very like the sector seven Cathedral—arched walkways here, open courtyards there, pillared halls leading inward. Gido chuckled as Frau craned his head back, taking in the complexity of it. "There's no record of which came first, this or the Cathedral, but we think it was probably this."

He led Frau inward. There were none of the distracted souls Frau had seen in the rest of the gardens, here. Instead they passed a handful of people who felt just a little familiar. A light haired man with Castor's nose looked up from a book and smiled as they passed his rooms. A slight, beautiful woman with Labrador's eyes waved to them from an enclosed courtyard and fountain. A man with the gold hair of the Oaks winked at them over the shoulder of a tall man with Teito's faint accent strong in his vowels, who was contemplating a chess board set between them.

"Welcome home," Gido said quietly, setting a hand on Frau's shoulder to guide him through another arch and into a wide room with a few heavy chairs, a table and shelves, a deep bed. It was so much like the bedrooms in the cathedral that Frau's breath caught.

"I was going to say this will take some getting used to," he said, looking around at the smooth, pale stone walls. "But maybe less than I was thinking."

"Usually," Gido agreed, leaning in the arch of Frau's new doorway. "You're not alone here, Frau. We're all in this together."

Frau rested a hand on the wall by his bed nook. It had half a dozen pillows, and a stack of silky, folded blankets at the foot. That silent welcome and the knowing eyes of the ex-Ghosts they'd passed settled around him, warm and steady, and he took a long, slow breath. For the first time since he'd arrived in Heaven, he felt like he had a stable place to stand.

Maybe he'd make it until his other loved ones came back to him after all.

Which reminded him of the one he'd found here, all unexpected, and he cocked his head at Gido thoughtfully. "So, hey."

Gido's brows rose as Frau strolled back over to him. "Hm?"

"You said you wanted to get me settled, here, when you found me earlier." Frau reached out to rest a hand on Gido's chest, smiling to feel the beating heart under his hand. "Think you might help me get used to the new place?" He tilted his head at the bed.

Gido laughed and reached out without moving from his casual lean against the door to pull Frau up against him. "I really did miss you, brat," he said, resting his forehead against Frau's, eyes warm. "It'll be my pleasure."

"Well, then." Frau relaxed against him with a soft sigh, finding the words easy at last.

"I'm home."

End

Say Nothing and Close Your Eyes

Frau and Castor fight constantly. Castor never expected that to change, let alone like this, but he can't forget the light in Frau's hands. Written for the Oh My God We Need Some Porn in Here Stat meme, and the prompt Castor/Frau, punishment (it went in almost completely the opposite direction; I never claimed to be in control of these characters!). Porn, D/s, I-3

The first time Castor and Frau had a fight, after their promotion to bishops, it didn't go quite the way Castor expected.

He and Frau had fought pretty much constantly ever since they'd met. Castor was, not just the son of a aristocratic house, but it's heir. He'd been raised to strict courtesy, reserve, and precision in his work. Frau was an air pirate brat who Castor was reasonably sure, from a few things Frau had let drop, had been raised in a bordello. He was loud, casual, and careless in almost everything. Castor had no idea whose notion it had been to room them together, but the result had been predictable.

After over three years, their fights had worn some of the edges off. They had cooperated very well, in the exam, at least once Castor had taken away Frau's porn, tied him to a library chair, and drilled him on enough scripture to pass the first part. Castor had actually been a little touched that Frau had refused to leave him, when they reached the last two doors, though he did think Frau could have been a little less crude in the response he'd inscribed to the examiners. They had helped each other out when their paths crossed during their apprentice periods. They were friends by now, albeit friends who fought constantly.

None of that, however, meant Frau frustrated him any less.

So when Frau leaned against the window of Castor's new (thankfully single) room and fished his Seal from around his neck to light a cigarette with, of course Castor growled and snatched for it.

"Frau! Is there no end to your disrespect? Give me that!"

Frau caught Castor's wrist and grabbed his lighter-cum-Seal back. "Oh come on, it's still the holy Seal. Who cares if it's also something actually useful?"

Castor elbowed Frau in the ribs, though it didn't land quite as squarely as usual; he still wasn't entirely used to their new vestments. Frau grunted satisfyingly and lost his cigarette, though, and they scuffled for the lighter for a few seconds.

"Don't even try it!" Frau panted, snatching Castor's other hand before Castor could get a good grip on the chain of his lighter. "You stole my porn, but you're not getting my goddamn cigarettes!" He swung Castor up against the wall by the window, trying to pin him, and Castor gave him a disdainfully curled lip and twisted his wrists against Frau's completely unscientific grip.

He couldn't break it.

Castor froze for one second in shock. It wasn't as though he hadn't noticed that Frau was taller than him now, or that Frau had been filling out a lot this past year, but Castor had been trained to fight nearly from the moment he could walk. That Frau would have the raw strength to stop him anyway...

He couldn't help remembering the last test of the exam, the stunning light that had washed through the entire hall, breaking open the candidates' isolation, erasing everyone's shadows. Erasing his father. The hands that held him were the ones that wielded that light, and that put a strange shiver through Castor.

He tried, more by reflex than intention at that point, to throw Frau off balance with a twist of his hips. And then he really couldn't help the sound he made when Frau pressed a thigh between his legs to pin him in place. Frau stilled, looking down at him with sudden question, and Castor stared up at him, shocked at his own response. He was hard against Frau's thigh.

"Castor?" Frau asked, voice low and steady.

"I..." Castor swallowed. "I don't..." He couldn't forget that light, and when Frau's hands tightened his breath caught. The piercing eyes on him softened.

"Shh," Frau said quietly, pressing Castor back against the wall. "It's okay." His mouth quirked. "Could have figured you wouldn't know what to do with it."

Castor rallied a bit at that, bristling. "What exactly do you mean by—" He broke off with a choked gasp as Frau's thigh rocked up between his legs. He tried to reach out, to steady himself at least, and couldn't; Frau's grip kept his hands pinned up against the wall, and Castor moaned softly as his stomach tightened with heat.

"That," Frau murmured. Castor's eyes widened as Frau leaned down and closed his teeth, delicately, on the edge of Castor's veil, lifting it until he could catch Castor's mouth. His mouth on Castor's was slow and gentle and utterly ruthless, and Castor was trembling by the time Frau let him go only to catch him again. This, yes, this was what he'd felt in the light that touched them all, and Castor finally surrendered to it and tipped his head back, mouth open under Frau's.

Frau kept him up against the wall, kissing him until Castor was breathless and gasping as the hard thigh between his legs rocked steadily against him. Frau's strength held him, steadied him, took him slowly apart, and Castor could only trust in Frau's assurance that it was all right. When pleasure finally snapped and shot through him, Frau's body against his was the only thing he could hold on to.

And when he finally relaxed, panting for breath, Frau still held him. Secure. Castor had to swallow against the tightness in his throat. "Frau..."

Slowly, Frau let him go, thumbs stroking gently over his wrists as that steel grip on them eased. He let Castor down and drew him a little away from the wall, gathering him close. "All right?" he asked softly, long fingers spread against Castor's back.

"I..." Castor hardly knew. But he leaned against Frau.

Frau cupped his cheek, lifting his head. He kissed Castor very gently, through their veils this time, giving Castor back that little distance. "Next time you want to do that, let me know." He smiled. "And we can keep the fighting for the real arguments. Like where the hell you stashed my porn."

Castor finally laughed, even if it was a little husky. "Don't tell me you haven't replaced it already. I know you better than that."

Frau drew himself up indignantly. "That's not the point."

"Yes, it is," Castor answered precisely, "because now I have to go looking for the new stuff too."

And they were back to normal, except for Frau's hand still resting on his back, steady and sure. Supporting him. Offering a strength that Castor couldn't break away from. Castor wasn't sure how he could ask for this again, but he suspected he was going to figure it out.

End

Shadows that Won't Disappear

Castor's life centers around control. Sometimes he needs to set it down, but sometimes what he really needs is to take a firmer grip on it. Frau is really pretty okay with that. Porn, Bondage, I-4

Castor was back from a tour of the Fifth District, and Frau had brought him a welcome-home bottle of wine. (Castor had rolled his eyes and asked, "Do you even know what the word 'abstinence' means?" but he'd also accepted the wine.)

"So?" Frau asked, taking a long swallow and tipping the chair at Castor's reading table back on its legs. "How are they?"

"Falling," Castor said shortly. "Like all the God Houses. We shouldn't be falling again so soon after Vertrag redeemed the Houses on the road to Seele." He looked down into the glass cradled between his hands, settling a little deeper into the room's single, worn armchair.

"Not normally," Frau agreed, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling. "You think it's because Mikhail is missing? Or because Raphael is..." He hesitated, groping for the right word.

"Unbalanced," Castor finished, eyes dark. "Perhaps. If so, it will fall to us to correct that, in the end."

Frau winced. This wasn't the first conversation the Ghosts had had about this. No one liked the thought of cold-blooded killing, but if Raphael's master really was as insane as the destruction of the Raggs War seemed to indicate... they might not have a choice. "Have another drink and cheer up," he directed. "It hasn't come to that yet. You're home for now, back to drinking Labrador's tea and nagging me about my perfectly natural urges and pretending to your flock that you're actually a nice guy. Relax." Castor gave him a deeply exasperated look and he laughed, hooking an elbow over the wooden back of his chair. "You need some help doing that?" he asked casually.

Castor didn't always ask for what he needed. Personally, Frau thought he'd taken the whole abstinence and penance thing way too seriously. This evening, though, Castor made a thoughtful sound and took a sip of his wine, eyes fixed on Frau over the rim. "There's something I think I want to try," he said at last.

Frau lifted his brows; okay, maybe Castor really was learning that too much repression was bad for the soul. "Hmm?"

Castor rose from his chair, setting his glass aside on the window ledge, and came to lay his fingers lightly on Frau's wrist. Feste's strings wrapped slowly around it, and suddenly Frau's arm wasn't his to move. "This," Castor said softly.

Frau looked up at him, turning that over in his head. Part of him tensed up, resisting the idea. The plain fact was, Castor was a dangerous man; he hadn't been raised to even recognize kindness much less practice it. Against that, though, was the part of him that knew Castor hated that fact, knew he embraced the Church's mandate of compassion with all his heart. So he asked quietly, "What were you planning to do with me once you had me?"

The smile that curved Castor's lips and lit his eyes was pleased and just a little shy and more than a little wicked. "I think... take my time."

Frau leaned back, laughing. He knew Castor, and he had no doubt he'd be cursing himself for agreeing at some point tonight, but... he knew Castor. And he didn't actually object to being teased, by the right person. If anyone he knew was going to have a talent for it, it was almost certainly Castor. He set his drink on the reading table and smiled up at him. "Okay. Go for it."

Castor's fingers stroked over the back of his hand and the strings came loose. "You're getting out of your own clothes."

Frau smirked; he imagined that part would change in time. Once Castor had a taste of this, Frau was pretty sure he'd want more. Castor liked being protected, but he really liked being in control. For tonight, though, he shrugged out of his surplice and undid the fiddly cassock buttons quick and easy. And then he took a moment to stretch, nice and slow.

"Show off," Castor murmured behind him, and Frau grinned as long fingers stroked down his spine.

"Maybe." He kicked off his pants and turned to see Castor watching him. He was perfectly happy to take the chance to watch back. Castor was beautiful, not with Lab's unearthly beauty, but like someone had taken a current of wind and given it human form: lean and poised and sleek. Frau smiled and held out his hands, offering. He was looking forward to this.

Castor took his wrist and tugged him onto the bed. Weightless, unbreakable strings followed after Castor's hands, winding around Frau's arms and down his thighs until he was kneeling on Castor's sheets, legs spread, arms drawn up over his head. "You sure you haven't been reading my porn?" he asked, a bit husky. It was no strain, being held by Feste's strings; he just couldn't move, and that put a sheen of sweat over his skin.

"Most certainly not," Castor murmured, settling behind Frau with a rustle. "I've simply been... thinking." His hands spread against Frau's stomach and slid up his chest, and Frau shivered.

Castor, true to his word, took his time. His hands stroked over Frau's body, down his thighs, long fingers trailing softly back up the insides. Frau's muscles drew taut in answer, but it didn't do him a bit of good. He could barely even flex his hips as Castor slid his palms over Frau's flanks and down to knead his ass gently; Frau's breath caught as fingertips carelessly brushed his entrance. He swore he could feel Castor's smile as the teasing touch drew away only to be replaced by the equally teasing slide of Castor's cock between his cheeks as Castor pressed up against his back. He moaned softly as Castor's hands kneaded over his shoulders and up his arms, easing the tautness of Frau's muscles back into waiting warmth. The strength of Castor's hands was always a little surprising.

And then Castor undid that relaxation all at once by reaching down and running his nails slowly up Frau's inner thighs. Frau gasped, arching hard against the strings holding him as heat shot up his spine, and Castor made a satisfied sound, nearly a purr. "You're enjoying this," Frau panted.

"Mm." Castor trailed light fingers up and down the hard line of Frau's cock. "It seems you are, too."

Frau laughed, breathless. He had to admit it was true. "Yeah." Castor's mouth curved against his shoulder and Castor's fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, stroking him. Frau moaned low in his throat; that touch coaxed and promised, but it wasn't nearly enough and Frau could barely move his hips an inch. "Fuck, Castor..."

"Eventually," Castor murmured, teeth closing on Frau's earlobe. "Probably."

Frau nearly whimpered as Castor's thumb rubbed soft circles over his head. Yeah, Castor was definitely good at this. The especially unfair part was how firmly the heat of Castor's cock was pressed up between his cheeks, the slow strength of his hand kneading over Frau's stomach, all in desperate contrast to the delicate way Castor fingered his cock, his nipples, rubbed a light fingertip behind his balls. Frau was a little light-headed from panting for breath by the time the strings shifted and moved him, bending him over on his knees, bound arms stretched out toward the top of the bed.

"Oh my god, Castor, tell me you're going to fuck me now," Frau groaned against the sheets. Castor's husky laugh sent a hot shiver down his spine to tighten his stomach.

"Perhaps." Frau could hear that evil smile hanging in the air, again. "If you ask nicely."

Frau couldn't actually be surprised; on the other hand, it was possible that two could play this game. "You want me to beg for it?" he asked, husky. "All right, then. I want it, Castor, I want your cock inside me. I want it so bad I can taste it, to feel how thick and hard you are working in and out of me. I want you to fuck me until I scream, and hold me still for every second of it."

"Then I imagine this will be very satisfying for you," Castor murmured, and Frau had a moment to congratulate himself on the breathless tone in his voice before one cool, slick finger pressed into him and Castor added, "Eventually."

Frau's groan was heartfelt, as Castor worked that one finger slowly in his ass. "Castor, please," he finally begged.

The point was pretty clear when that got him two fingers.

"You are such a bastard," Frau told him fervently, and Castor laughed.

"Now, is that asking nicely?"

"God, fine, please Castor, fuck me already before I go fucking insane, here!"

Castor's fingers twisted slowly, deep in his ass, and Frau shuddered in the hold of the strings. "In time," Castor said, soft and dark as velvet.

When Castor started stroking soft fingers up and down the line of Frau's cock, he broke and begged again, breathless variations on please and now. Castor gave him three fingers all right, but slowly, so slowly that Frau's whole body was taut with trying to push back onto those long fingers. Castor ignored his straining and just kept fucking him very slow, very easy while Frau panted and whined low in his throat.

"Please Castor, please, oh god, fuck me like you mean it, I need it so bad, please," Frau pleaded shamelessly. Being spread open like this and not getting more was driving him crazy.

"Yes. I think now is a good time."

Frau didn't quite manage to process that before Castor's cock was driving into him, hard and thick and so incredibly good after being teased for so long that Frau could only moan wordlessly. Castor's strings held him quite still as Castor fucked him ruthlessly, long hard strokes pounding deep into his ass and finally, finally letting all the built up heat go somewhere. Frau gasped and panted under it, more and more desperately as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, and nearly screamed when it finally snapped. Every sensitized nerve in his body caught fire as orgasm ripped through him, shaking him under Castor, and it went on and on as Castor fucked the tightness right back out of his body. The last few strokes would have driven him into the mattress in a boneless heap if the strings hadn't held him.

He collapsed anyway when Castor finally released the strings and let him down to the bed.

"Fuck," Frau mumbled into the sheets after a little while, dazed. He could feel Castor laughing against his back.

"I take it you approve, then." Castor sounded extremely smug, and Frau managed to turn his head and look over his shoulder. Yep. Castor's smile was very definitely smug.

"You," he declared, still husky, "are an evil bastard." He couldn't help the grin, though. "And, yeah, that was pretty incredible."

Castor's smile softened and he ran his fingers through Frau's damp hair. "Does that mean you'd be interested in doing it again some time?" he asked. There was a hint of diffidence lurking behind the smugness, and Frau got an arm to hold him long enough to turn himself over and tug Castor down to a kiss.

"Yeah," he said quietly, against Castor's mouth. "Yeah, I think I would."

Castor made a pleased sound and settled against Frau, one hand spread against his chest. Frau smiled and draped an arm around him.

He'd have to return this favor some time soon.

End

Crossing Every Boundary Line Between Earth and Sky

Castor and Frau both have their own quirks, and their own needs for release. Fortunately, their needs dovetail. Features Castor being evil, Frau being dominant, and Castor and Frau taking care of each other. Porn, Bondage, D/s, I-4

Frau

Every time Frau went to bed with Castor he remembered why he'd sworn the last time would be the last.

"You're a sadistic fucking bastard," he panted, body arched taut under Castor's hand on his cock, which was stroking very, very slowly. Frau strained against Castor's strings wound around his arms and pulling them up over his head, which did about as much good as ever.

Castor smiled down at him, cool and collected as if they weren't naked in bed, and as if he weren't slowly driving Frau out of his mind. "Now, now, simply because some of us prefer to savor the good things in life instead of rushing through them, that's no need to be insulting."

"You think it's a compliment, you—" Frau broke off in a moan as Castor rubbed a thumb slow and hard over his head. He wasn't going to last much longer at this rate.

"Language, Frau," Castor murmured, eyes glinting behind his glasses. "Patience is a great virtue; you should cultivate it." He leaned down to trace tortuously light, wet circles with his tongue over Frau's nipples and Frau pulled harder against the strings holding his arms, trying to get more of that soft, wet touch. When Castor closed his teeth, ever so delicately, Frau finally broke.

"Please," he gasped, "Castor, please, stop screwing around and fuck me!" He groaned as Castor made a thoughtful sound, long, slick fingers tightening around his cock.

"Since you ask politely, I suppose I could, yes." Castor caught Frau's knees and lifted them, spreading Frau wide open. More strings wrapped around his legs, keeping them there, and Castor trailed his fingers down Frau's cock, behind his balls, to rub softly against his entrance. Frau was half crazy with the heat and the teasing, and nearly aching with how badly he wanted Castor inside him.

"Please, Castor, now," Frau begged, knowing Castor was perfectly capable of drawing this out even more. "Fuck me now, you know goddamn well I can take it!"

Castor smiled, the knife-sharp smile he never showed in public, and ran his hands up Frau's spread thighs. "You want it that much?" he asked softly.

Frau shuddered in the hold of Castor's threads. "Castor," he whispered, openly pleading. "Please."

Castor leaned over him and kissed him, slow and hard, tongue sliding deep into his mouth. "Yes," he murmured against Frau's lips. And just like that he was pushing into Frau, barely slick. The harsh stretch of taking him in stole Frau's words and he groaned low and loud.

Castor fucked him rough and slow, and his eyes on Frau were finally hot, finally done with teasing and concealing. That was what made Frau let go at last and give himself up to Castor's control without reservation, moaning with every stroke and begging shamelessly for more whenever he had the breath. It was so good to feel this, the raw fire at the core of Castor. Frau didn't even mind being caught so helplessly in Castor's power, as long as it meant Castor would open up, open Frau up and fuck him hard. The pounding of Castor's cock into him, the strength of Castor's hand wrapping around him, drowned him in sensation until Frau was nearly screaming with it, every muscle hard and taut against the strings holding him. When the tension finally snapped, it wrung Frau's body so hard he could barely breathe, shuddering with the rake of pleasure through and through him.

The sound of Castor's moan, as he drove deep into Frau, pulled an extra gasp from him, and even dazed as he was he smiled at the look on Castor's face as he caught himself over Frau: at peace for a while, washed clean of the darkness that lived behind his eyes for just a little bit.

When Castor finally released him, it was Frau's turn to moan again. His muscles felt like jelly as Castor eased him back down to the bed, and he sighed with pleasure as Castor's hands kneaded gently over his thighs. "Mmmm. You know," he sighed, "you're a complete bastard. And a flaming control freak." Frau's lips curled up. "That was fantastic."

Castor laughed softly, and settled down against the length of Frau's body. "You say that every time."

"It's true every time," Frau pointed out, and made a contented sound as Castor's arms wrapped around him. His arms were still shaky, as he settled them around Castor in return, but he really liked the cuddling afterward.

Every time they went to bed, he remembered why he'd sworn not to any more. And every time, he also remembered why he still did.

Castor

One of the things Castor liked best about his bed games with Frau was when Frau stalked him. He was perfectly aware that Frau considered this evidence that Castor was every bit as perverted as himself, but Castor enjoyed the crinkle down his spine that told of eyes watching him, of a body moving up behind him on quiet feet. A part of him missed the bright edge of a threat to his life, and he didn't hesitate to take his pleasure in this softened version of it.

And for all that Frau mocked, he had a fine sense of drama about the whole thing.

Witness how patiently he had waited for Castor to take off and neatly hang his vestments, tonight, waited for the precise moment Castor was turning away from his wardrobe and shrugging off his shirt. A swift snatch, almost faster than Castor could have escaped if he'd been trying to, and he was pressed up against the wall, bare chest brushing the cool stone. Frau's hands were wrapped around his wrists, pinning them against the wall over his head, and Castor could feel the hard muscle of Frau's body against his back, holding him in place.

Willing or not, the reflex of years sent him jerking against that hold as soon as he was caught, but his hands didn't move an inch. Frau was stronger than he was, hand to hand, and his grip was like iron. Learning that all over again made Castor have to swallow in a dry throat.

"Shh," Frau said softly against his ear, pressing closer to cage him more firmly against the wall. "It's your turn."

A shadow of heat curled through Castor's body, and after another tense breath or two, he surrendered to Frau's hold, resting his forehead against the stone. "Yes," he murmured.

He never resisted Frau for long.

And Frau's grip never loosened, even as he gathered both Castor's wrists in one hand and slid the other down Castor's chest to undo his pants. Castor's breath came shorter as Frau kept him stretched against the wall and closed his hand between Castor's legs, kneading slow and strong. Castor's knees were shaky already, and the perfectly assured way Frau handled him made him moan. "Frau..."

"Shh," Frau told him again, quietly, and Castor shivered, bending his head. Frau was a gentle man. A kind man. And he was all the more inexorable, when they did this, because he knew it was what Castor wanted.

And he did want it. To have to give way, to let Frau's taller, harder body confine and shelter his while Frau fondled him until he was shaking. Little wanting sounds caught in his throat, but he knew Frau would only hush him again if he spoke. Castor enjoyed hearing Frau beg; Frau wanted Castor to know that even begging wouldn't do any good.

Finally, Frau slid his hand out of Castor's open pants with a final squeeze. As Castor sagged against the wall in his grip, he caught Castor's chin, turning his head back and up until Frau could kiss him, slow and wet and deep. Castor leaned back against him, acquiescent, and Frau made a satisfied sound into his mouth. Frau's hands were still firm, but gentler now as he brought Castor's down and caught them behind his back instead. Frau guided him a few steps to bend over the side of his bed and pulled his pants down off his hips. Castor moaned softly as Frau held him in place, just as helplessly caught as he'd been up against the wall and far readier for Frau. He turned his cheek against the sheets, watching as Frau rummaged one-handed in his wall nook.

What rubbed slickly between his cheeks, though, wasn't Frau's fingers. It was the thickness of Frau's cock, and Castor's breath caught. "Frau," he whispered, eyes wide.

Frau leaned over him, caging him against the bed. "Shh," Frau murmured a third time, lips brushing the back of Castor's neck. "It's all right, Castor. Be still."

Castor closed his eyes, breath leaving him as he went limp against the bed. The quiet authority in Frau's voice was the same tone Castor heard when Frau was most intent on his duties, the one that sometimes made Castor think Frau was the truest Bishop among them. It was a voice that told him he was safe in Frau's hands, and he trusted it now, lying pliant under Frau's hold as Frau slowly, so slowly, pressed into him.

It felt incredible.

His body opened in a slow, endless stretch, hard and breathless, until Castor was panting against the sheets, trembling with the intensity of it. And Frau just kept moving, easing back and then in with such iron control Castor couldn't help moaning just to feel it. He didn't know how long Frau fucked him like that, bent over his bed; he couldn't keep track of anything but the moment, the hardness of Frau's cock inside him, stretching and filling him relentlessly, the gentle unbreakable grip that pinned his hands behind his back.

When Frau's hand closed tight around his cock again it pulled a hoarse sound out of him, muffled by the sheets. Three hard, demanding strokes and he was gone, mindless in the wave of pleasure that dragged him down. He felt Frau drive into him harder, deeper, rocking him up off his knees, and heard Frau groan, felt the grip around his wrists tighten and pin him down ruthlessly.

It felt so good.

He didn't move when Frau let him go, just lay there and floated in the aftermath of pleasure. He didn't get to relax this completely very often and he didn't want to let it go. Frau chuckled softly and dropped a kiss against his shoulder before rising. A few breaths later, he returned with some of Castor's towels to clean up with, and helped Castor the rest of the way out of his clothes. He let Frau move him, and roused enough to make a soft, pleased noise when Frau joined him in bed and pulled Castor firmly against him. "Sleep now," he told Castor, and kissed him gently.

They would go back to fighting and sniping in the morning. But for now, Castor closed his eyes and settled meekly into the shelter of Frau's arms.

Morning would come soon enough.

End

Silence That Is Incomprehensible

Follows some of Hyuuga and Ayanami's possible history with each other pre-canon, from the Academy through the aftermath of the war. Includes porn without sex and s/m without the whip which, while quite consensual, is not particularly sane. Drama, Character Study, Porn, Kink, I-4

Hyuuga met Ayanami his first week at the Academy, and that meeting set the tone for everything that came after.

The whole class was out in a courtyard for beginning zaiphon training, and the teacher was yelling at Hyuuga. Nothing unexpected.

"Hyuuga-kun! You're here to learn to use your zaiphon, not to learn ballroom dancing!"

"But sensei," Hyuuga lilted as he sprang aside from yet another clumsy stroke by his training partner that barely left a scorch on the flagstones, "it's more fun this way! Besides," he added, as Shigetsu-sensei started to turn red in the face, "why should I wear myself out when a sword is so much faster?" He sprinted lightly forward and spun to come up at the Ochi kid's back, sword laid lightly against his neck.

More to the point, why should Hyuuga show his zaiphon here, where it was just possible someone would recognize what he was by seeing it? Not that he could say that out loud.

"What are you going to do if you can't use that sword of yours and never trained in this?" Shigetsu-sensei snapped back while Ochi swallowed tightly. Hyuuga would have to admit it was a good point, if he were actually untrained. Since he wasn't, he was just summoning his sunniest smile and another good line of bullshit when another of his classmates cut in.

"Perhaps a greater challenge is in order, then?" It was the cool boy with the silvery hair who stepped up to stand beside him. Ayanami, that was it. Who proceeded to push Hyuuga's sword away from Ochi's neck with precise, gloved fingers, using just enough pressure to move a lightly-held blade without cutting himself. Hyuuga's brows rose. This one was pretty observant. "May we switch partners, sensei? I believe Hiroki-kun would be better served to start with someone closer to his own experience."

Hyuuga sheathed his sword and glanced over his shoulder to see Ayanami's training partner, who was standing in the middle of a swath of deeply etched stone and shaking. Shigetsu-sensei looked too and sighed. "Yes, yes, fine. You take Hyuuga-kun, then. Maybe you'll rub off on him. We can hope," he grumbled as he herded Ochi and Hiroki off to the side to work on some basic focusing exercises.

Ayanami didn't speak, just beckoned to Hyuuga and turned to pace gravely through the, mostly pretty small, explosions their classmates were managing. Hyuuga blinked as he trailed after; had this guy been raised in a monastery or something? Or maybe he was from one of those noble families that was really strict and formal. Ayanami led the way through an arched arcade and into a smaller court, off to the side of the general training melee, before he stopped and turned to fix an intent look on Hyuuga. "You favor the sword?" he asked, after a moment.

The sharpness of his eyes, the pinpoint focus in them, tugged at Hyuuga, sent a tingle down his nerves. He slid his hands along his hilts and decided, impulsively, to give a true answer. "I am the sword."

Ayanami didn't frown or look puzzled, the way most people did. He just nodded. "Then we should train with both." He drew his own, perfectly regulation, sword with one hand and a swift coil of zaiphon circled the other. "Guard yourself."

The instinct he'd been born and trained to jabbed Hyuuga sharply, and both his own swords swept out to meet the fast lick of Ayanami's blade even as he leaped to avoid the lash of zaiphon that could have taken his leg off. Another three exchanges of steel, and zaiphon came scything in again. Hyuuga's lips drew back off his teeth as the world sharpened around him and he rolled down and back up in a scissoring attack on Ayanami's casting hand. This was good. He hadn't thought to find a real opponent among the other students, but this one... this one might have the edge he craved. The edge his sword needed to stay true.

He danced and spun through the storm of Ayanami's sword and zaiphon, starting to feel the pattern of them and know where he needed to strike. Ayanami was strong, but a straight sword couldn't counter the subtle binding of a curved edge, and the harshest, most precise zaiphon was no use if it didn't connect. There was an opening. Here. Here.

Hyuuga spun, wakizashi coming up from below as his katana bound Ayanami's sword, and Ayanami's last zaiphon attack would go just past Hyuuga's shoulder. He could see it, feel it, see the reflection of it in the widening of Ayanami's eyes. Hyuuga laughed with the absolute purity of the moment as he struck.

Just before his short blade touched home, the circle of zaiphon around Ayanami's hand snapped into an expanding sphere.

Hyuuga didn't have time to yelp, barely had time to cross his blades and channel a desperate burst of zaiphon through them, before the lash of Ayanami's power struck him and blew him back into the unforgiving stone wall of the courtyard with crushing force.

His swords rang on the pavement in the sudden quiet as he collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing for breath. He stared with blank, stunned eyes down at the flagstones under his palms. His defense had been good for a last-minute effort, but it had broken; he'd felt Ayanami's zaiphon against his skin. The taste of it couldn't be mistaken. "You," he rasped, and stopped, because there was a cool edge of steel under his chin. He looked up the length of Ayanami's sword to meet those still, intent eyes.

"Do you yield?" Ayanami inquired calmly.

A shiver ran down Hyuuga's spine, hot with recognition and chill with excitement. His teachers had told him, repeatedly, that a swordsman must always be prepared to meet someone stronger. He'd been torn between hoping and scoffing; it was already clear that he would be stronger than his teachers very soon, and they were the best in Barsburg. He still hadn't met a stronger swordsman, today. But Hyuuga had spoken the truth then he said he was the sword.

And the greatest of swords required, not just another sword to meet, but a hand to wield them.

"I yield to you," he said quietly, and watched Ayanami's brow quirk. Yes. Ayanami heard at least some of what Hyuuga meant. He pushed himself upright, grinning as Ayanami sheathed his blade. "Aya-san is sneaky."

Ayanami actually blinked at that. "I beg your pardon?" Hyuuga's grin widened. Good; he liked Ayanami's seriousness but it was possible to have too much of a good thing.

"I bet you knew what I was all along," he accused with a playful pout. "You could have just said."

"I was reasonably sure," Ayanami agreed, unruffled again. "My family keeps track of these things. But it's well to be entirely sure, when possible. For that, I needed to see your zaiphon."

Hyuuga hauled himself back to his feet, one hand against the wall to steady himself as he bent to retrieve his swords. "Even using mine, I couldn't hold you off," he acknowledged ruefully, feeling his ribs creak. He'd have some spectacular bruises tomorrow.

"You're not weak, though. That's good." Ayanami stepped closer, voice turning softer and deeper. "There are indications that the Emperor is considering sanctioning some of us, to serve the Empire. The strongest of our generation are being sent to the Academy for that reason."

Hyuuga sucked in a quick breath, eyes wide. "Sanctioning us?" he whispered. "But, the Church..." Warsfeil were anathema. Unholy. Both Barsburg and Raggs executed any proven Warsfeil. In fact, the Empire had been getting even more stringent about that, lately, enough that the Fallen families had stopped talking even with each other for fear of drawing the Emperor's attention.

All except Ayanami's family, apparently.

Ayanami's eyes were cool and level. "The Pope has been favoring Raggs increasingly, of late. If the Empire finds itself in need of a counterweight to the Church's strength, then we will serve that purpose."

Hyuuga whistled softly. "You think it's really coming?" He'd hears whispers of war for years, but only ever half believed them.

"Whatever comes, I will meet it in the Empire's service." Ayanami might have been remarking on the chance of rain later that day, but Hyuuga had tasted his edge now, and heard the fire underneath that coolness. "And you?"

Hyuuga grinned; he thought he would like being Ayanami's sword. "Anything you say, Aya-san."

Hyuuga wasn't really surprised when both he and Ayanami were posted inside headquarters after graduation. Someone among the higher-ups must know what he and Ayanami were; his personal pick was Field Marshal Miroku, who seemed to be making a hobby of Ayanami's career. Miroku had a reputation as a cunning strategist who knew when to gamble and when to stand pat. He was gambling on the Academy-trained Warsfeil, but not so wildly that he'd let them out from under his eye. Hyuuga understood that. It just didn't make the first handful years before their real assignment came through any less boring.

And their real assignment wasn't actually that much of an improvement.

"Oh come on," Hyuuga groaned, flopping over the back of his chair and letting the letter of appointment flutter down to the table beside his crossed boots. "We need Imperial permission to leave headquarters?" On pain of having their dispensation to, you know, keep living revoked. Great.

"We will have plenty of work in the field," Ayanami said, hands folded composedly on the table. Hyuuga's mouth quirked at the cool look Aya-san was giving his propped up boots.

"Well, at least you got a promotion out of it. A Major in just three years!"

Ayanami flicked his fingers. "An administrative promotion."

"Mm." Their third member was watching them, leaning on his elbows with his clasped hands against his mouth. "I must presume that the Field Marshal judges you will be a better leader for this unit than I would."

Since Masaru had been a Captain before Ayanami, Hyuuga filled in silently; it had been pretty blatant, to promote Aya-san over him so abruptly. He eyed Masaru, wondering if this would be a problem, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his katana hilt.

"I expect formal rank to mean little among us," Ayanami answered evenly, banked fire in every word. "All that truly matters is our strength, and ability to serve the needs of the Empire. That is the purpose of this unit, and we will fulfill it. Titles mean nothing beside that."

Masaru's eyes had narrowed at Ayanami's first words, a faint haze of almost-zaiphon flickering around his fingers as if he expected a challenge to follow them. By the last words, though he was staring, wide-eyed. Hyuuga grinned; he supposed it could be a little hard to believe, the first time a person came up against that true steel dedication.

"I understand," Masaru said slowly, and bent his head a little. "Ayanami-sama."

"Yep, that's our Aya-san," Hyuuga agreed expansively, leaning his chair back on two legs. Ayanami's hand twitched for a moment, as if with the urge to give Hyuuga's boots a brisk shove and topple him all the way over, and Masaru gave him a mildly admonishing look for his familiarity with their commander. Hyuuga grinned, lacing his hands behind his head.

Maybe their confinement wouldn't be quite such a hassle as he'd thought.

A year later, the Black Hawks had four members, the newest fresh out of the Academy and assigned as Ayanami's Begleiter. Hyuuga, long familiar with Ayanami's desperately workaholic habits, approved mightily.

Besides, Yukikaze was cute.

"Yuki-chan!" he sang, swooping in over the back of Yukikaze's desk chair only to stop short with a grin at the extremely sharp letter opener that was suddenly pressing up under his chin. He liked this kid.

"Yes, Hyuuga-san?" Yukikaze asked calmly, still writing in Ayanami's schedule book with his other hand.

"I got you some of that candy you were drooling over the other day," Hyuuga told him, dropping the paper bag onto the desk so that a few hard candies rolled temptingly out of it. Yukikaze flushed.

"I was not drooling!" He gathered up Ayanami's schedule, ignoring the candy, and marched it over to their commander's desk.

"Hm? Must have been mistaken, then." Hyuuga picked up one of the spilled candies and unwrapped it with a deliberate crackle. Yukikaze spun back around just in time to see Hyuuga popping it into his mouth. "Mm! Oh, hey, these are good." A little sweet, a little tangy: actually he kind of liked that. Maybe he'd have to snitch some more.

Yukikaze was back at his desk in a flash, sweeping the rest of the candy into its bag and whisking the bag into his desk drawer. Hyuuga laughed. "See, I knew you liked them."

"I never claimed I didn't like them," Yukikaze pointed out. "I just said I wasn't drooling."

"Yukikaze," Ayanami's murmur cut through their byplay, "didn't I have an appointment with Procurement after the meeting with the Committee on Military Research this afternoon?"

"Yes, Ayanami-sama." Yukikaze straightened up from locking his drawer. "I spoke with the General's secretary, though. Your meetings with Military Research usually run long, and it turns out that Procurement only really needs your signature."

Ayanami's brow rose. "I believe that was my decision to make."

Yukikaze stood even straighter, nearly at attention, but his tone was firm. Almost scolding. "You're over-scheduled, Ayanami-sama. The other departments take advantage of your conscientiousness. There's no excuse for it."

Ayanami sat back in his chair, eyeing Yukikaze coolly, but the corner of his mouth had quirked up with what Hyuuga could tell was amusement. "I see. That's your considered and experienced opinion, hm?"

Yukikaze bowed without losing one bit of his stubborn expression. "Please forgive me if I've overstepped myself, Ayanami-sama. But it's my duty to look after your work and health both, and I will do so to the very best of my ability."

After a long, silent moment of locked stares, Ayanami set down his schedule book and picked up the report he'd been reading again. "Bring me the document Procurement needs me to sign, then," he directed.

Yukikaze lit up with a soft smile that wasn't even a little triumphant. "Yes, Ayanami-sama."

Hyuuga drifted over to lean on Aya-san's chair. "Aya-tan is so cute with his Yuki-chan," he cooed, and just had to laugh at the identically annoyed looks they both gave him.

It really was kind of adorable.

Five years after the Black Hawks were founded, Hyuuga was pretty satisfied with life. They were a tight unit, and they had enough sweeping successes under their collective belt that the fear he saw every day in the halls had turned from "monsters from under the bed" fear into "deadly elite unit" fear. People got out of their way, and Generals quaked in their boots when they saw Ayanami coming. Hyuuga approved.

So when Yukikaze came to him with the news that Ayanami had locked himself into his rooms and wasn't answering the door, it was a bit of a shock.

He smiled for Yukikaze, though, and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll go see what's up. You just make sure his paperwork stays caught up." He strolled down to their quarters, tucked away in a spare corner of officer territory so they could all stay close, even though it meant a smaller room than Ayanami was entitled to by now. Sure enough, Aya-san's door was closed and locked.

Hyuuga shrugged and pulled out his wakizashi to bang on the metal door with the metal guard. "Aya-tan!" he caroled loudly. "Open up for your evening serenade! This is your five minute warning!" He checked his watch and leaned against the wall, whistling piercingly and tunelessly just to make sure Ayanami knew he hadn't gone away.

At four minutes and thirty-five seconds, the lock clicked.

Hyuuga frowned a little when the door wasn't opened, but it slid open at his touch. All the lights were off, when he stepped in, and his eyes narrowed. He slipped aside, back to the wall, and let the door hiss shut again. "Aya-san?"

One of the shadows beside the polarized window stirred.

"What is it?" Hyuuga asked quietly. It wasn't like their driven commander to brood, much less lock out his own unit. Had they gotten a suicide mission or something?

Ayanami's voice was low and velvety in the dimness. "How many demands on your loyalty will you accept, Hyuuga?"

Hyuuga cocked his head, watching details emerge as his eyes adjusted. Aya-san had his back turned, as if looking out the darkened window. "As many as you make, you know that."

"And if I demanded your eyes and your hands?" Ayanami asked, so distant and casual it made Hyuuga's neck prickle. That was how Aya-san sounded when he talked to Generals: disengaged. He shouldn't sound like that with his own people. "If I demanded your body to move to my command?"

Hyuuga crossed his arms, leaning his shoulders back against the chill of the wall. "You have those already," he pointed out. "I'm your sword. You can wield me as you wish."

Finally, Ayanami turned to face him, eyes gleaming in the half-light. "And if I demanded your life? Your soul in my hand?"

Hyuuga blinked. Was that what this was about? "Aya-tan," he sighed, running a hand thought his hair. "We're all Warsfeil here, you don't have to dance around the question. If you want a soul contract to act through me, all you have to do is say." Never mind that such a thing was legend. This was Aya-san; if he thought he could do it, Hyuuga would believe he could.

Ayanami stepped away from the window. "Are you saying you agree?"

Hyuuga snorted and shoved off the wall. He crossed the room to Ayanami in a few firm steps and dropped down to his knees, catching Ayanami's hand and pressing it to his chest. "Don't insult me," he said low and fierce, looking up. "You've had my soul in your palm from the day we first fought. If you choose to close your hand now, that's your right. Take whatever you want from me."

Ayanami stood very still for two long breaths before his other hand finally lifted and threaded through Hyuuga's hair, fingers gentle. "Yes," he murmured.

That was all the warning Hyuuga got before ice was driving into his chest, into something that wasn't his body. Burning cold fingers kneaded the very core of him, unbearably intimate, and he was distantly aware of his body, pulled into a bone-cracking arch of tension, of his voice, hoarse and wordless. It was more intense than any pain or pleasure he'd ever felt and in the roaring silence of his mind he prayed for it to continue and begged for it to stop. One of Ayanami's hands cradled his head carefully while the other touched him, traced him, pulled his soul in half, stretching his life and breath agonizingly thin as part was taken away from him into darkness.

Slowly, he noticed he was shaking. That his throat was raw. That the darkness around him was the dimness of Ayanami's rooms. That he was being held against Ayanami's shoulder as every muscle shuddered helplessly. His soul, the part of him that commanded Wars and shaped zaiphon, ached and burned, but he could still feel, just a little, the coolness of Ayanami's fingers stroking it.

The key of his life belonged to Ayanami, now.

Which made today no different than yesterday, really.

"Told you so," he finally managed, husky, and Ayanami's shoulder trembled against his chest with a silent chuckle.

"Indeed." Aya-san's voice was warm again.

A bare few weeks later, it was Masaru's turn to spend several days pale and wobbly, and that was when Hyuuga started to wonder, and to remember just who it was that legend said could do such things to living human souls. Let alone two or three at once. It wasn't until years later that he remembered that the week Ayanami had taken Hyuuga's soul to him had been the same week that the Emperor's chief researcher had received a medal for unspecified services to the Empire, and the week that young Princess Ouka had been confirmed as heir.

The princess who would eventually wield the Eye of Raphael in war—or, at least, who would be used to do so. The researcher who tampered with the Eye and its master so that another could command it. The Eye that was said to seal the power of Verloren.

Knowing made no difference to him, of course.

Hyuuga didn't think the soul division had any side-effects, under most circumstances. But the day Ayanami came to them and said, "War is declared," he knew the driving fire of dedication that licked at his heart wasn't his own. That was the taste of Aya-san.

He could see it catching in all of them.

Masaru bowed, hand on his sword hilt. "What are our duties, Ayanami-sama?" he asked, eagerness burning through his usual smiling courtesy.

"We are tasked with capturing or killing the Raggs royal family." Ayanami's face was still and intent. "Nothing must be permitted to interfere or hinder us. Nothing."

Even Yukikaze, normally the gentlest of them, was hard-eyed. "Nothing will. We swear it, Ayanami-sama."

Hyuuga bent his head, smiling. "Don't worry, Aya-tan." He met their commander's eyes over the edge of his glasses. "It'll be our pleasure."

Ayanami's fire flared in his blood, and Hyuuga's breath caught softly. "Entirely our pleasure," he purred.

The war was over. It had taken a hard toll on the Black Hawks. Masaru was officially dead and had returned to them only in the guise of an enemy: Katsuragi.

Yukikaze was dead for real.

"You didn't release his soul, did you?" Hyuuga asked quietly, leaning in the door of Ayanami's office, watching his oldest friend standing at a darkened window again. "Yuki-chan's."

Ayanami didn't even shrug, and his voice was remote. "I was not holding it closely at the moment he died."

"You always held his soul pretty damn closely," Hyuuga said bluntly.

Ayanami didn't stir. "You will not speak of this, Hyuuga."

Hyuuga rolled his eyes. Aya-san could be so damn stubborn sometimes. "Look—"

This time, Ayanami answered him with steel. Hyuuga froze, keeping his hands still at his sides as Ayanami's sword pressed delicately against his neck.

"You will not speak of this." There was a ragged edge under the coldness of Ayanami's voice, now, and Hyuuga closed his eyes.

"All right," he said softly, and waited for the pressure to come off his throat before he lowered his chin and sighed. "Remember you still have us, though," and his mouth quirked as he finished, "Aya-tan." As Ayanami's eyes narrowed, he fished in his pocket and pulled out a candy to ceremoniously unwrap and pop into his mouth, lounging back casually in the doorway. He raised his brows at Aya-san. "Hmm?"

Ayanami gave him a tight-lipped look for the obvious reminders of their lost member, but in the end he only turned abruptly to his desk and picked up a pen. Hyuuga smiled around his candy.

He would, he assured Yuki-chan's memory, take care of Aya-san.

The headquarter Generals were getting to be an increasing pain in the ass. It didn't matter to them that the Black Hawks had the best success record of any unit in the entire Armed Forces. It didn't matter to them that Aya-san could actually deal with the Military Minister and even the Emperor and make sense of their orders. All they saw was how fast Ayanami had risen in the ranks, and that his appointment to Chief of Staff had been Miroku's last action before retiring, and they howled about favoritism and upstarts.

It really got on Hyuuga's nerves.

Today, that officious little insect Ogi had come into the actual field with them, along with a handful of his bootlicking staff, to "independently evaluate their performance" on the boring little rebellion the Black Hawks had been sent to put down. He'd been making sure to let them see him scribbling on his little clipboard and frowning judiciously.

Hyuuga didn't like boring missions that wasted their time and didn't have any good fights for him, so he was already in an edgy mood. When Ogi actually started berating Ayanami for getting his uniform bloody in battle he decided enough was enough.

"Ooo, Aya-tan," he interrupted when Ogi paused for breath, eyes theatrically wide behind his glasses. "He's right! Just look at all that blood on your sword hand!" Which was true, even after Ayanami had stripped off his soaked gloves. Hyuuga smiled, slow and wide, and murmured, "Well, we can't have that can we?" He strolled up to Ayanami's side and sank fluidly down to his knees, catching Ayanami's hand in his. He slanted a sidelong glance at Ogi, lip curled wickedly as he licked a line of blood from the back of Aya-san's hand.

Kuroyuri squeaked and Ogi choked, and Hyuuga smirked as he turned Ayanami's hand and ran his tongue slowly up Ayanami's blood-streaked palm. He took his time about it, enjoying the way Ogi's eyes got wider and wider, and his little pack of jackals started edging backwards. A quick look up at Aya-san told Hyuuga that he was amused; he didn't show it, of course, but he was standing there quite calmly, looking down at Hyuuga without surprise, just as if his subordinates licked the blood off his hands every day. Under the amusement was hint of heat.

Hyuuga definitely took his time after that. No sense doing a job half-way, after all. Besides, the sharpness of blood was already in his mouth from their brief battle, and he liked the taste of it on Ayanami's skin. It was cutting and real, more satisfying than any opponent he'd found today. He half closed his eyes and wrapped his mouth around Aya-san's fingers, savoring the way they flexed against his tongue.

By the time he was done, Ogi and his staffers had retreated in disorder. Hyuuga chuckled as he slowly sucked the last iron trace off Aya-san's middle finger. "There, now," he said brightly. "All better."

"Indeed," Ayanami murmured, fingertips brushing Hyuuga's mouth before he drew back and turned away. Hyuuga laughed as he stood and caught sight of Kuroyuri and Konatsu, both red as beets and staring with eyes the size of saucers. It was Konatsu who finally managed a strangled, "Major...!"

"Don't worry," Hyuuga told him, ruffling his hair. "You'll understand when you're older." He grinned as his new Begleiter sputtered in outrage, and tucked his hands in his pockets, strolling back toward their ship in Ayanami's wake.

Aya-san's touch lingered on his lips.

Hyuuga considered it his special job within the unit to make sure that Ayanami didn't go too crazy. Usually this was simple—just a matter of hanging over Aya-san's shoulder on days when they were especially straight or his mouth got a little too tight, teasing until Ayanami snapped and went for his whip. It was fun, like sparring only different. A game they played.

Sometimes they played it harder than others, of course.

"You know, Aya-tan," Hyuuga remarked, draped over the back of Ayanami's chair, "you should take a break from the paperwork now and then. Live a little! Go out for dinner instead of eating in the cafeteria!"

Ayanami's fingers were getting tighter on his pen.

"You could go to one of the restaurants where the officers hang out, and the girls come to sigh over the heroes," Hyuuga continued, watching for the moment Aya-san would drop the pen. "You could even get laid!"

He expected that crack to be the one that sent him rolling aside from Ayanami's whip, but what he felt instead was a cold twinge in his chest and stomach. It made him still for a moment, eyes widening behind his glasses. That was Aya-san's hand on his soul, tightening his grip for just a moment.

That was his warning, on nights they played a harder game. If Hyuuga kept pressing, what he faced wouldn't be a weapon he could avoid or blow he could roll with.

Hyuuga smiled, slow and dark.

He pushed himself off the back of Ayanami's chair and strolled around the desk, keeping his face turned away so Ayanami would see only his back. His uniform. "Come on, Ayanami," he taunted, dropping all the familiar forms he usually called his commander by, calling him what his enemies did, "you can't really be an automaton, the way they say you are. It'd do you good!"

Over his shoulder he watched Ayanami rising slowly to his feet and stepping out from behind the desk also. Good.

"Or maybe that's not it," Hyuuga murmured, thinking about the vicious gossip he'd heard most often lately. "Maybe you just don't want to be around the other officers and hear people saying it again. That you slept your way to the top."

The first lash of Ayanami's rage sliced into his soul, burning like frozen metal, and he staggered under it, gasping. Ayanami's face was set and still, but his eyes were bright. Gleaming. Furious.

Beautiful.

"With Miroku-sama, isn't that how it goes?" Hyuuga managed, lowering his head to keep Aya-san focused on his uniform and words, not his face, not who he really was. "Or the Emperor. Maybe both."

Ayanami's grip licked out between the halves of Hyuuga's soul, wrapping around him like a fist and squeezing until Hyuuga's sense of himself broke and ran between those steel fingers. His legs gave out under the force of it and he stumbled down to hands and knees, chest heaving. The fingers of Ayanami's control thrust into the very core of him, ruthless and precise. The chill and fire of Ayanami's presence inside him, wild and furious, set his body twisting, trying to get away and trying to press into the punishing intrusion.

The raw strength of it made him hard.

"That's why they all think you'll be their dog, now," he gasped, and moaned out loud as Ayanami's will raked his soul harder. His arms gave out and dropped him down, prostrate on the rug at Ayanami's feet. There was no part of him that wasn't in Ayanami's grip, now. He was pinned down under the sword of Ayanami's power driven into him to the hilt, flayed open by its edge. It was absolute intimacy, unnatural, almost unbearable except that it was Aya-san's hand on him. Hyuuga was a Warsfeil, born to be a sword drawn by this hand, and his hips jerked helplessly against the floor in response to that taste of blood and steel in his soul.

His voice was gone now and he was lost in immaterial sensation, the reason for it nearly forgotten, but he recognized when Ayanami's touch started to turn less harsh, started to caress as well as cut. "Aya-san," he whispered, in answer. The touch on his soul softened still more, shaping him gently back to himself, stroking the taut, trembling fibers of his being until they eased. His body gradually turned limp and boneless against the floor as his soul quieted under Ayanami's hand. He heard quiet steps approaching, heard the rustle of fabric, felt light fingers brushing his hair back, and drew a slow breath as his mind started working again. He cleared his throat softly.

"Forgive me." He always asked for Ayanami's forgiveness, these nights, because he hated the thought that Aya-san might take the things he said to heart even for a moment.

"There's nothing to forgive," Ayanami murmured, fingers still carding through his sweat-damp hair. "Not for you."

Hyuuga smiled wryly into the carpet. This was the other thing that was always said.

Sure enough, Ayanami added, quietly, "This is a dangerous game, Hyuuga."

"Aya-tan." Hyuuga pushed himself onto his side with a shaky arm so he could look up at his friend, amused and exasperated. "You know I love doing it." There was a wet spot on the front of his pants to bear witness to that.

He figured Aya-san had noticed when he raised a brow at Hyuuga.

Hyuuga laughed. "What?" he lowered his voice to a husky purr. "My soul likes to feel its master's hand now and then." He looked up at Ayanami, half teasing and entirely serious, and smiled as Ayanami's shoulders relaxed all the way.

Aya-san always offered him an end to their games, offered the kind of cherished safety he held the other Black Hawks in. None of the others would ever be wrung like this by their commander's will. Neither would Hyuuga, unless he chose it. He knew that.

He chose it every time.

He chose the ice and steel, and the burning lash of Ayanami's fury. He was the sword, and those were the things that made the world come alive in his mouth and heart. He also loved the soft caress of Aya-san's fingers against his soul, of course, but that wasn't what made the world brighter.

He caught Ayanami's hand and kissed his fingers. "I will serve you in every way, in every time, with my heart and soul. I will defend you with my life."

Ayanami's touch on his soul warmed, though he was silent for a long moment. At last he murmured, "If it comes to that."

Hyuuga smiled up at him, content with that permission.

He knew it would come to that, eventually.

End

The Word Whose Appearance Is Multiple

How the newer members of the Black Hawks might have come to join and, over and above that, come to be contracted with Ayanami. Drama, Character Study, I-3

For the purposes of writing in English, and based on a few indications in the manga, I've interpreted Kuroyuri as a girl.

Kuroyuri

Kuroyuri was a prodigy. She'd heard it from her family, she'd heard it from her teachers, and once she'd gotten to the Academy she'd seen it in the eyes of her classmates. Whenever they looked down far enough, anyway. She was the youngest person in the whole school by almost five years.

It wasn't that she was a brilliant strategist, because she wasn't. She just always won anyway. With the kind of zaiphon she commanded, she didn't need to "marshal her resources" or "coordinate with her partners". She just blew apart whatever was in her way. It worked.

So on the day of the exam, while everyone else whined and sweated, she stood apart from her "team" and leaned back against the clear wall of the arena with crossed arms. She tapped her toe, waiting impatiently while the proctor read out the rules and reminded everyone this was for real. It had better be for real; she hadn't had a single good match since she left home.

When the far door snapped up and the over-muscled target raged through, she pushed off the wall, filled her hands with power, and blew a hole where his chest had been.

The proctor, who hadn't even gotten all the way out the other door, hesitated. "Er. This team... passes?" She looked over her shoulder at the head of the academy and the fancy generals who'd come to watch exams with him. Kuroyuri sniffed.

"You know I passed," she said, waving a hand at the rest of the students. "If you want to know about them, go get another target." She wasn't part of any "team" of students; they'd all made that clear, and she'd expected it already. She'd been poisoned for existing when she was five, where was the surprise that people grudged her her life and power?

"There might be some justice to that, yes," the Chairman allowed, fingers flicking at the proctor. She guided Kuroyuri out with a hand on her shoulder, tossing a cheery, "Wait right here!" at the rest of the students.

"You have the strength for battle, certainly," the Chairman observed, giving Kuroyuri a stern look. "But I'm not entirely sure you have the discipline. Perhaps it would be better to keep you for another year."

Kuroyuri stiffened, starting to glare. She'd die of boredom if she had to spend another year around here! The general standing beside Miroku stirred, though, and lifted a hand.

"That won't be necessary," he said calmly. "I will take this one."

The Chairman cocked an eyebrow at him. "You will, hm? Well, Kuroyuri was certainly slated for the Black Hawks eventually, but are you sure, Ayanami-kun?"

"Quite sure." The general stepped forward and rested a hand on Kuroyuri's shoulder. A possessive hand, she thought, looking up at him, which made a little thrill of hope and surprise run through her. "Kuroyuri will do better among our own kind."

That was when the unit name clicked, and Kuroyuri's eyes widened. This was the Warsfeil general! This was the man all the families like hers were talking about! He used his power right out in the open, he and the Black Hawks, and no one dared say a word! "I'll do my best!" she exclaimed, looking up at him starry-eyed. "I promise!"

He smiled faintly, glancing down at her. "I trust you will."

Kuroyuri wandered through the rest of graduation and processing in a daze, seeing again and again that tiny smile, hearing that low, sure voice saying he trusted her.

Her new post was so exciting it nearly made her squeak. Okay, fine, it did make her squeak, but only once! And that was just because Hyuuga could do really cool things with his swords. There was lots of blood, on that assignment; she approved. In fact, she kind of loved it. She was with other Warsfeil, she was one of the official ones. And, so, yeah, the rest of the military whispered about them, and crossed the hall out of their path, and moved away from any table one of them ate at. It wasn't all that different from how she'd already been treated at the Academy, and at least now she had a unit she belonged with!

It took a while for her to realize that there was something wrong.

She didn't always use her soul sight. It had been really strong when she was younger, and really distracting, so she'd learned to ignore it mostly. The first time she used a Wars in her new duties, though, she'd noticed that Hyuuga was half-souled. It hadn't taken much thinking to figure out who held the other half, and it made perfect sense that Ayanami-sama could do something that amazing. He was Ayanami-sama! She'd looked, when they came back to the ship, just to be sure she was right.

That's when she'd seen that Katsuragi was bound the same way.

Both the other Black Hawks' souls belonged to their commander. Hers didn't, and Ayanami-sama hadn't made any sign he expected to take hers. She searched his face when he told them they'd done well; she couldn't see any difference in how he looked at them and how he looked at her. But there must be one. Because otherwise, she'd be bound to him the same way, wouldn't she?

She brooded on that all the way back to the Fortress, curled up on her seat with her arms around her knees. Was it just because she was so young? Did he think she wasn't strong enough? But he knew her strength, he'd seen her in battle!

Was she... not suitable somehow?

That was the thought that finally drove her to his office to ask. She couldn't stand the thought she might not be what he needed. Once she'd kicked that clown Hyuuga out the door and slammed it behind him, she spun around to face her commander, biting her lip.

Ayanami-sama set down his pen and folded his hands with that faint smile of his. "What is it, Kuroyuri?"

"Am I... not what you want, Ayanami-sama?" she asked, soft and shaky. "Am I... am I failing in some way?"

His brows rose. "Why would you think that?"

"You haven't... I'm not... You haven't bound my soul!" she burst out. "You have both the other two, but not me! Am I... not good enough?" she finished in a whisper, blinking hard to hold back tears.

He rose and came around the desk to her, and she clenched her hands at her sides, trying to be brave in face of whatever he was going to say. When he knelt down level with her and touched her cheek, a sob almost broke loose.

"Be calm," he told her quietly. "Your place is here at my side. Do not doubt that."

Kuroyuri nearly gasped with relief, pressing her locked hands to her chest. "Ayanami-sama..."

"I hadn't thought to take your soul until you're older, and sure in your heart that you belong to the Black Hawks." Sharp violet eyes held hers. "To me."

"I do," she protested. "I am! You gave me a place, you let me fight, you let me use my power! You make everything right! I do belong to you!"

"Is a contract binding your soul something you really wish?" he asked softly. "This is your life bound to mine, and you are very young, Kuroyuri."

"You gave me a place," she said, soft and sure, because he'd just confirmed it. Her place was at his side. He was the one who let them command darkness right out in the light, and not fear for their lives. "I'm sure in my heart, Ayanami-sama. I swear it."

He held her eyes for another long moment, but finally he nodded. "Come here." He held out his hand to her and she stepped forward, trustingly, into the circle of his arm.

When his fingers reached into her chest, chill and sharp like a blade cutting her open, she bit her lip hard to keep silent. She wrapped her hands in his uniform coat and swallowed down the whimpers that tried to force their way up her throat. This was Ayanami-sama, and her soul was his to take. Everything that was her stretched, and stretched some more as she gasped for breath, until part of her settled into his hand.

"Ayanami-sama," she whispered, rough and shaky.

"Shh," he murmured to her, soft and cool, rubbing her back. "It's done. Be still, now."

She quieted obediently, leaning against his shoulder, and slowly the ache of dislocation eased under his soothing hand. "Thank you," she finally said, low.

He chuckled softly. "Thank you, as well." When she looked up shyly, her breath caught. She could see it, raw in his eyes, the possessiveness she thought she'd sensed when he'd claimed her from the Academy. Her. He wanted her to be one of his people, not despite what she was but because of it. She smiled back, cheeks warm.

"I belong with Ayanami-sama."

The satisfaction in his eyes made her blush harder, right down to warm her heart.

"Yes."

And that became her world.

Haruse

When Kuroyuri announced, "I want to see you more often. Is that okay with you?" Haruse answered as honestly as he always answered her:

"Of course."

He wasn't sure why this caused her to grab his cuff and tow him promptly off down the halls of the Fortress, but she obviously had a destination in mind so he followed after willingly enough. When they went up an elevator into officer territory, he did wonder whether he was really cleared to be there. Kuroyuri had to use a keycard to unlock the elevator doors. But, he reasoned, he was in the company of someone who clearly was authorized, so it should be all right. Maybe she wanted to spend some time together in her own rooms instead of down in the common areas where people did tend to look askance and whisper.

So when she finally announced, "Here we go!" he was expecting the door to open onto an officer's suite.

Instead he found himself looking across a large office at a large desk, behind which was, unmistakably, General Ayanami, the Chief of Staff of the entire Imperial Armed Forces.

Reflex jerked him into a salute as Kuroyuri trotted blithely across the office. "Ayanami-sama," she said, leaning familiarly against the man's desk, "can we have Haruse for the Black Hawks? Please?"

Ayanami's brows rose, and his mouth quirked with unmistakable amusement as he returned Haruse's salute and nodded for him to stand a little easier. "This is a unit of Warsfeil, Kuroyuri," the General pointed out, quite reasonably.

Kuroyuri, though, just looked up at him and said softly, "You can change that, though. Can't you? You can, Ayanami-sama. Please?"

They looked at each other for a long, silent moment. Haruse didn't know what passed between them in that silence, but finally Ayanami looked up to regard him thoughtfully. "Is this your wish, Haruse-kun? To join the Black Hawks?"

"I... I didn't... I never thought..." Haruse took a deep breath, trying to get control of himself past his shock. "I hadn't thought it would ever be possible, sir. I never considered it."

Ayanami glanced back down at Kuroyuri, a little chiding. "Kuroyuri..."

"But!" Kuroyuri spun back to him, eyes wide and pleading. "You said you wanted to see me more often, too! You said it was okay."

"I did. I do!" he agreed earnestly. "I would love to be able to serve with you, it's just... I mean..." He ran a hand through his hair, flustered enough to be falling out of attention. He looked over at Ayanami, who was watching them quietly. "Is it really possible, sir? For me to become... what you and Kuroyuri-chuusa are?"

"Possible, yes," he murmured. "Is it your will to become that?"

Haruse took a deep breath, thinking hard. Dozens of childhood horror stories about Warsfeil clamored in the back of his head: anathema, unholy, they'll eat your soul if you're not good. But against that clamor was the pressure of Kuroyuri's eyes on him, their honesty and determination, their purity. He knew by now that the duties of the Black Hawks were dangerous and bloody, but he hadn't become a soldier because he thought it would be a safe, clean job. He had enlisted to serve his people and his country with his life. Slowly he straightened and nodded. To become as she was... "It would be my honor, sir," he said quietly.

"Even if you lose your soul?" Ayanami asked casually, and Haruse froze.

"Ayanami-sama!" Kuroyuri protested, scowling. "You're trying to scare him."

He cocked a brow at her. "Your soul is no longer entirely your own, Kuroyuri."

She huffed, arms folded. "That's because it's you. This is the place you gave me. You're my place; of course my soul is yours."

Haruse felt like the world tilted. She said it so calmly, so matter-of-fact. Warsfeil truly did deal in souls, then, but... not as a horror, it seemed? She said it as easily, and as earnestly, as if it was her loyalty she'd given. Perhaps... perhaps they were the same thing in a way.

Perhaps to "give your heart" just meant something a little more tangible to Warsfeil than to most people.

And this man, who had given his dearest friend the belonging Haruse knew she needed so very much, was offering to let Haruse see the world the same way. Offering him a place beside her.

Haruse drew himself back up to calm and proper attention. "Even so, sir. It would be my honor."

Ayanami smiled faintly. "I think you've found someone suitable, yes," he told Kuroyuri, and stood from behind his desk. "Come, then, Haruse-kun. If you would make this pledge with us, I will show you the first part of it." He stripped back the glove from his left hand and drew his sword, taking the end in his bare hand and closing his fist tight. Haruse flinched in shock. Ayanami's face was calm. He held out his hand, cupping it as red gathered in his palm. "My blood," he said, softly. "Take and drink of it." He smiled, and this time it was sharp. "If you would be raised up."

Haruse swallowed a little hard, but a glance at Kuroyuri showed her only smiling, happy and hopeful. If he was going to look at the world as they did... then his commander's blood was not a threat or a mark of pain. It was the offer of life—a new life. Haruse gathered himself and walked across the room to Ayanami, and knelt down at his feet; it seemed only proper. He cupped his hands under Ayanami's and touched his lips to the blood in his palm.

It slid down his throat and straight through his chest like a burning sword. Haruse doubled over, gasping harshly for breath. It felt like his heart was being pulled inside out, and each tug sent a stab of fire through him.

"Haruse! Haruse, it'll be all right." Kuroyuri's arms, small and strong, wound around his shoulders. "Let Ayanami-sama in, and it will be all right."

She was his guide in this, so he clenched his teeth and did as she said, fighting to surrender to the force twisting through him. And it was true—the more he yielded to that pressure, the easier it got, the less it hurt, until he felt like he recognized his own body again. Or maybe it was his soul. Slowly he looked up, and met Ayanami's eyes with a shock of connection. His lips worked as he tried to sort out, in his spinning head, what this man was to him, now. One title after another shaped themselves: General, commander, patron, Lord. Master, his soul whispered.

Ayanami's bloodied hand settled on his head. "Call me by my name, now," he said quietly.

Haruse shivered, panting for breath as Kuroyuri hugged him around the neck and made encouraging noises. "I..."

"Give it time to settle in you," Ayanami told him, more gently than he'd spoken yet. "Rest while I take care of your transfer to the Black Hawks. Kuroyuri can show you some of how to use our power once you've recovered."

Haruse's breath caught, because that new gentleness was open to see in Ayanami's eyes. It was quiet, but it was there, and it plucked at Haruse's devotion. "Yes, Ayanami-sama," he said softly. A part of him couldn't help wondering, though, whether the loyalty he knew he couldn't help giving Ayanami would take from what he'd already given Kuroyuri.

A few days later, when he was given his transfer papers to sign, he saw that his new post was listed as Kuroyuri's Begleiter. Haruse smiled.

He had chosen rightly.

Konatsu

Ayanami watched his newest member of the Black Hawks salute smartly and march out of his office with a straight back, and turned a thoughtful eye on his oldest member. "You didn't ask."

Hyuuga shrugged a shoulder casually, still looking out the window over the city. "Konatsu's a Warren, and word's gotten around the Fallen families, you know. I imagine he knows who you are. If he wants to be given that power, he'll ask himself."

"He may know," Ayanami agreed mildly, "but you certainly know. And you didn't ask."

Hyuuga sighed, a wordless admission that he wasn't going to get out of answering this one, and turned around, leaning his shoulders against the glass. "Yeah, I didn't. Aya-san, this kid grew up without power in one of your bloodlines. The Fallen families aren't nice, any more than the God Houses are, and no one's hand but yours ever redeems us." His mouth quirked, faint and sharp. "He lived and fought and never bowed down. I like the kid's spirit."

Ayanami snorted softly, amused. "Yes, that was what convinced me he was deadly enough to join us, power over Wars or no." He cocked his head at Hyuuga. "Why would you not wish to see him with greater power, then? I doubt he'd abandon the sword, not if he already fights such that you approve of him."

Hyuuga lowered his eyes, examining the toes of his boots. "It's something he said, when he woke up," he finally said, low. "That what he wants has no meaning if someone gives it to him." When he looked up again, his eyes were burning, they way they did in battle. "I want to watch him keep fighting for whatever it is he really wants."

Ayanami didn't think he'd ever seen Hyuuga this interested in anyone, before. Perhaps Ayanami himself held Hyuuga's attention that way, at least once Hyuuga had teased him out of patience, but certainly no one else. "Very well," he said at last. "I think I'll assign him as your Begleiter, then. Since you take an interest in his progress, you may stand as his superior and mentor. He seems very dedicated, so he may," he added dryly, "even be a good influence on you."

Hyuuga grinned at him, running a hand sheepishly through his hair. "Whatever you say, Aya-tan."

Long past being deceived by any apologies or promises to be more diligent at anything except field work, Ayanami waved dismissive fingers at his oldest friend and follower, and turned back to his own paperwork.

Over the next few weeks, though, he watched his new subordinate. Konatsu was, indeed, very diligent, and also quite practical. It took only a few days before the boy evidently concluded that nothing would cause Hyuuga to do his own paperwork, and took it over completely. Konatsu was courteous, capable, and deferred to his seniors, with the developing exception of Hyuuga. Ayanami could only approve of both his manners and his good sense.

And never, by word or look, did Konatsu suggest he hoped or desired to be offered the power of a Warsfeil. Hyuuga appeared to have read his protege correctly.

Something else Hyuuga had said lingered in Ayanami's mind, though. No hand but yours ever redeems us. For the God Houses, redemption came in the form of the Traveler to Seele, for as long as he or she was strong enough to bear the burden of cleansing the Houses. What did redemption mean for the families who had flowed from Ayanami's blood, down his lifetimes?

To judge from the responses of his Hawks, it meant his acceptance. His mark.

This boy of his spirit's blood, born without the touch of his power, still stood straight and walked without hesitation at Ayanami's side, of his own choosing. Perhaps the simple mark of blood and power would not be sufficient to Konatsu's pride. But there was another mark Ayanami could give him. If Konatsu was strong enough to bear it.

When Konatsu had been with them two months, and through one field assignment without faltering, Ayanami decided it was time.

"Come in," he called at the respectful tap on his door, and looked over Konatsu's shoulder at Hyuuga. "Kuroyuri and Haruse were just looking for you, Hyuuga. I think they said something about taste-testing." Hyuuga's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Ah. I'll just... ah, there was something... yes, that I had to do." Ayanami smiled to himself as Hyuuga vanished rather than make himself an easy target for Haruse and Kuroyuri's experiments. Or perhaps he was simply obeying his commander's evident wish that he leave them alone; with Hyuuga it could be hard to tell. Konatsu blinked after his superior for a moment before shaking his head in mystification.

"You wished to see me, Ayanami-sama?" he asked, stepping inside and coming to precise attention.

"I did." Ayanami leaned back in his chair. "It has become my practice, over the years, to create a soul contract with my Black Hawks." He tilted his head, curious about how much this boy had or could observe without the senses of a Warsfeil. "Were you aware?"

Konatsu nodded slowly. "Something Kuroyuri-chuusa said made it seem possible. But... with the whole unit?" Softer, as if to himself, he murmured, "It's true, then." He lowered his eyes and bowed deeply, not a military salute but as a son of the Warren line to his Lord. Ayanami found that satisfying.

"Indeed. I see no reason to break that practice in this case. You are not Warsfeil, but you have a strong soul. I believe you could bear the contract."

Konatsu shot upright, eyes wide. "Me?" he nearly squeaked, and Ayanami's mouth quirked with amusement. He nodded silently.

"Yes," Konatsu whispered, nearly glowing with sudden excitement and determination. "Yes, Ayanami-sama. Let me serve you, I won't fail your trust, I swear!" He lifted a hand as if to offer Ayanami his soul in that palm.

Ayanami rose, pleased. Hyuuga had chosen well for them when he'd brought Konatsu's courage and faith to Ayanami's attention. "Come, then."

Konatsu came to him and stood straight and proud, bright eyes fixed on Ayanami's face even as Ayanami set a hand on his shoulder and reached for his soul.

Most of any soul was simply brightness and darkness, but each had it's own faint texture, the impress of the mind and heart born from it. Konatsu's was soft to his touch, not guarded with the fire and edge that so many Warsfeil gained. It was strong, though. Some souls tore when he took them to himself, but not this one. Half Konatsu's soul settled into his grasp like a bird landing on his hand, warm and living and surrendered into his hold without question or doubt. Ayanami smiled and stepped closer, drawing Konatsu in to lean against him as he marked that soul for his. The boy gasped for breath in the wake of the binding, trembling a little. "Ayanami-sama..."

"I was not mistaken," Ayanami told him quietly. "You have strength for this and more."

Konatsu actually blushed, and Ayanami chuckled, resting a hand on his head for a moment. "It's done. Go and rest, now."

"Yes, sir." Konatsu was still glowing with quiet happiness as he left, despite his shaky knees, and Ayanami contemplated the new soul in his keeping with some pleasure. He had missed this, the binding and sealing of souls.

He would have to find the rest of the Ghosts as soon as possible, and regain the rest of his rightful powers. Perhaps with them in his hands once again, he would be have what he needed to fill the loss at the heart of him that even his Black Hawks only soothed a little. He had searched since Raphael's hold had first been broken, and he had a feeling that the pieces of his self would come within his reach again soon.

Soon he would make himself whole again.

End

The One Who Fashions You on the Outside

Ayanami and Hyuuga spar together. It turns into something a little different once Hyuuga stops defending himself against Ayanami's zaiphon. Written for the Oh My God We Need Some Porn in Here Stat meme, and the prompt Ayanami/Hyuuga, edges. Porn, BDSM, I-4

The Black Hawks weren't really suited to training in enclosed areas, at least not if those areas were supposed to stay enclosed. So as often as Ayanami could wring permission out of the government, they stopped in at the small floating island, F34, just outside and a long way above the capitol.

It was not, Hyuuga thought, much of an island. It only had a name because the military used it for weapons testing.

And for Warsfeil to train, which was kind of the same thing.

Today, he'd sent Konatsu off to stalk Katsuragi through the wind-twisted stone of the island's west side, practicing how to track an opponent who could hide his presence. It was something his Begleiter needed to work on and Hyuuga was looking forward to seeing how he would solve this problem without power of his own. Besides, Ayanami had agreed to a work out with Hyuuga himself, and that always required some extra space. It wasn't that Ayanami was profligate with his zaiphon; far from it, actually, he was as precise with those attacks as Hyuuga was with his swords. But if Hyuuga didn't have room to move, Aya-san would pin him down in short order and that wasn't much use for training.

Or much fun, either.

Hyuuga laughed as he twisted aside from Ayanami's attack, caught his sword on Hyuuga's wakizashi and spun to strike for Ayanami's back with his long blade. A single line of zaiphon threw him back and Hyuuga showed his teeth, landing light on his toes and driving his own zaiphon out through his katana to carve apart the rock where Ayanami stood. Ayanami didn't move; his zaiphon spiraled around him, tight and perfect, and Hyuuga's broke against it.

After two more exchanges whose simplicity drew Hyuuga's nerves tighter, Ayanami finally flicked his sword out level, one hand against the flat of the blade. Hyuuga had known it was coming, and he crossed his swords before him to catch it, hot lines of zaiphon scribing down the blades as he sprang back to put some distance between himself and Ayanami's focused attack.

That did about as much good as ever.

Ayanami's zaiphon cracked his like a chisel hammered into steel, and the burning force of it wrote itself across his body. Hyuuga hit the ground hard and rolled up to his feet, breath heaving in his chest as his cock hardened. When a strike like that connected he could taste Ayanami's power on his tongue, and he had to work to keep his focus. It was good practice; no one else he'd encountered had been able break his focus for years, now.

Though it might, on reflection, have been a mistake to admit that to Aya-san.

The quirk of Ayanami's mouth made Hyuuga brace himself warily. Ayanami started casting line after line of zaiphon against his defense, bursting against the zaiphon wrapped around Hyuuga's swords until it was nearly a scent in the air. Hyuuga lunged into it, fighting to close with Ayanami, to get back into range where his swords would have the advantage, but now Ayanami was moving too, keeping out of weapon's reach while his zaiphon bound Hyuuga's.

And eventually started breaking through.

Hyuuga gasped as Ayanami's power bit into him, burned into his skin, brutal and sharp, so precise he could almost read the words that formed it. No... he could read them.

...my hunters....

...my chosen...

Hyuuga's head whipped up and he stared across the field of stone between them. Ayanami smiled, a slow curl of lips, and lifted his hand again, zaiphon twined around it in threat and promise. Another line, another, and Hyuuga could feel his defense faltering, fatally undermined by his hunger for Ayanami's power and the temptation Aya-san had put in his path today. Another line that traced my sword against his ribs, and Hyuuga knew he was defeated. He stood square in the path of Ayanami's zaiphon and let his swords fall and took it.

It burned like fire, with the icy slash of a sword cut, and Hyuuga's body jerked under the force of it. He could taste blood. But now he could read the words clearly.

...soul that belongs to me...

...my sword to draw and use...

Line after line struck him and left Hyuuga gasping desperately for breath. He didn't know if his eyes were closed or if he was blinded by the darkness of Ayanami's zaiphon. All he knew was the bite of that power into his body and the wild intensity of pain and pleasure and need that it etched into him.

...who surrenders all that he is to me...

...your master...

It was the cutting caress of that last line across his skin that finished Hyuuga, and he screamed as heat raked through him like claws, on and on and on, until it left him collapsed on the ground barely able to breathe. He couldn't even lift his head as Ayanami's footsteps approached, until Aya-san's fingers wrapped around his chin and drew his head up.

Ayanami was smiling. "You're so demanding, Hyuuga," he murmured.

Hyuuga managed a shaky grin. "But Aya-tan, you like me that way."

"Mm." Ayanami's thumb stroked over his mouth. "I suppose I do."

Hyuuga's lips parted under the touch, and he closed his eyes as Ayanami leaned in, surrendering without question to the slow kiss. He wasn't sure he knew how to do anything else, when Aya-san was involved. He did know he didn't want to.

Ayanami's zaiphon had spoken the truth.

End

The Command of Those Who Ask of Me

Hyuuga tends to and cares for Ayanami in the evening. In the morning, a different side of Ayanami wants rawer proof of his service. Fluff, Porn, I-4

Hyuuga peeked into his commander's quarters and sighed. According to reports, Aya-san had been standing at the picture window in his rooms for a very long time, looking out on the city as dark fell and all the lights that lived on conquered zaiphon twinkled on. That was usually a bad sign. Sometimes, when Aya-san brooded for too long, he lost himself a little, and when he lost himself to Verloren's memories of pain or anger it wasn't good for anyone. Not unless there was something on hand he could kill to regain his equanimity.

When there wasn't, well, that's when getting him back out became Hyuuga's job.

Hyuuga waved to Katsuragi, waiting down the hall, and slipped in, closing Ayanami's door behind him. Katsuragi would keep everyone clear until he was done. He came up behind Ayanami on quiet feet and slid his arms around his waist. The straightness of Ayanami's spine went a little stiffer.

"Hyuuga," Ayanami said, cold and low. It was the voice of death, sharp as the edge that could cut a soul, and if Hyuuga hadn't already guessed he'd have known right then who he had his arms around.

He bent his head under the dark weight of that voice and murmured against Ayanami's shoulder, "You are my Lord. I was born to serve your will, like every other one of the Fallen families that come from your blood." Ayanami's stiffness settled a little with what Hyuuga suspected was satisfaction, and he went on, soft and coaxing. "But you're also my commander, who leads and cherishes us. And my oldest friend, who I love." Very low, he finished, "Let me take care of you tonight?"

As he spoke he could feel Ayanami relax, slowly, until the body in his arms leaned back against him with a human sigh. "Hyuuga," his friend's voice said, quiet and level but warm again.

"Thank you." Hyuuga smiled against Aya-san's ear. "Come to bed, Aya-san? You've been standing here a long time."

"I suppose I have." Ayanami stirred and straightened, and if Hyuuga kept a sharp eye on him and a hand on his shoulder until he was sure his friend wouldn't fall after so long ignoring his mortal body, Aya-san pretended he didn't notice.

He did snort a little bit when they got to the bedroom and Hyuuga brushed his fingers aside and undid Ayanami's sword belt himself.

"Let me, Aya-san," Hyuuga said softly, eyes on the buckles. He wanted to keep Ayanami focused on the here-and-now-and-human tonight, until whatever he'd been brooding about receded a little and he was in a better temper.

He hung the sword and belts over Ayanami's weapons rack and delicately undid the hidden clasps of Ayanami's uniform coat. Aya-san's lips were ever so faintly curving up, which was a good sign. Hyuuga shook out the coat and hung it carefully while Ayanami sat down on the edge of his bed. He knelt swiftly at Aya-san's feet, glancing up at him admonishingly over the edge of his glasses, as he loosened the buckles of Ayanami's boots. Aya-san let Hyuuga tug them off and sat patiently while he put them in the closet and came back to unbutton Aya-san's shirt.

"You're starting to look overdressed," Ayanami finally murmured, and Hyuuga laughed.

"Am I? I'd better take care of that, then." He laid his sheathed swords across Ayanami's table and folded his coat over the back of a chair. Boots, shirt, and pants followed quickly, and Aya-san was definitely looking amused when Hyuuga came back to kneel by the bed in nothing but his shorts and socks.

"Less so now," he allowed, and let Hyuuga undo his pants, tugging them off, and the shorts with them, with brisk, gentle hands.

"Lie down," Hyuuga directed. Ayanami's brow rose, eyes turning hard again, and Hyuuga gave him a wry smile, still on his knees. "You command me, Aya-san. In every way. You know that. But let me be your old friend for tonight?"

After a long moment, Ayanami nodded and stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed on his crossed arms. Hyuuga slipped up onto the bed and knelt beside him. He spread a hand against Aya-san's back, leaning just a little weight on it until he finally felt Aya-san breathe out and relax a hair.

That was enough to start with.

He slid his hand up into Aya-san's unruly, silver hair to knead his fingertips over where the band of the uniform hat fell. He worked his fingers lightly over Aya-san's wrists where the cuff of the gloves bound sometimes. He ran his hands slowly down Aya-san's body to knead his calves where the boots buckled tight and his feet where the hard boot heels made cramps. All the little places where the uniform chafed or pulled, he soothed and he didn't even try to work on Aya-san's shoulders until he'd had a while to calm under the slow touches.

Finally, though, Aya-san's arms unfolded and he settled a little more easily against the bed, and Hyuuga smiled. Now he could lean over Aya-san and put some force into it as he kneaded his friend's shoulders and back. Tonight Aya-san was even at ease enough to let his breath hitch and gasp as Hyuuga worked his muscles loose.

"There," Hyuuga murmured, when the muscle and skin under his hands was warm and flushed and flexible again. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over the back of his neck. "Ready to sleep?"

"Mmm."

Hyuuga very carefully did not chuckle at the drowsy sound. He'd save up this triumph to tease Aya-san with the next time he wanted to match his speed against Aya-san's whip. He just raised the covers and held them for Aya-san to slide under before tugging off his shorts and socks and joining him.

It wasn't all that often that Aya-san let him do this, and Hyuuga hoarded the memories of nights that Aya-san let Hyuuga hold him, nights he consented to rest his head on Hyuuga's shoulder and drift off while his oldest friend watched over him.

Hyuuga carded his fingers slowly through Aya-san's hair and smiled into the dark.

Hyuuga woke with most of the covers kicked off and no Aya-san anywhere near. That wasn't unusual for these mornings, and he just stretched and yawned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he glanced around for his commander. He half expected to see Ayanami already in his uniform and finishing breakfast, but instead he was standing in the sun from the windows in only a robe.

"Morning, Aya-tan." Hyuuga leaned up on an elbow, lazily. "Taking it easy today?" Maybe he could even tempt Aya-san back into bed for a little...

The thought cut off abruptly as Ayanami turned and Hyuuga saw his eyes, brilliant and distant and sharp as knives over a curl of lips even sharper. Ayanami had clearly gotten over his brooding, Hyuuga thought with incongruous calm, which didn't mean he would be any less volatile as long as he stayed like this. Merely less inclined to outright bodily harm.

"So," Ayanami murmured, chill and velvety. "You say you serve me?"

Hyuuga swallowed against the scald of adrenaline through his veins, seeing that edge in Ayanami's smile, hearing it in his voice. Both focused on him, and his cock was hardening in response. "Yes, Lord," he answered, husky.

Ayanami's eyes raked up and down his body, and a curl of amusement threaded through their sharpness. "Hmm." He reached out a hand and beckoned, and Hyuuga came up off the bed in one swift movement to stand before Ayanami.

It was crazy to stay in the same room with this man, with the memory awake behind Ayanami's eyes right now, turning them inhuman. Nothing Hyuuga had ever met on any battlefield would ever be as dangerous as that soul's attention, as what Ayanami could do to him with a gesture. With a thought.

Hyuuga's breath came short and fast as he thought about that, and he was so hard he was getting light-headed.

The curl to Ayanami's lips was definitely amused, and he wrapped his hand around the nape of Hyuuga's neck with casual, inhuman strength. "Not as much to say for yourself as usual, this morning," he observed.

Thrill sang through Hyuuga and he grinned, teeth bared as he stepped up to dance with death. "Well, if you want your own personal jester, of course I'll be happy to oblige. Aya-tan."

Ayanami laughed once, low in his throat, and his hand pressed down, bearing Hyuuga down to his knees with terrifying ease. "Not today." He slid his hand up the line of Hyuuga's jaw and brushed a thumb over his lips.

"Yes, Lord," Hyuuga agreed, husky, eyes lifted to Ayanami's. Ayanami held them as he pulled loose the tie of his robe and stepped closer. Hyuuga didn't look away as he opened his mouth for Ayanami's cock, wrapping his lips around the thickness of it. This was familiar, and so was the possessiveness of Ayanami's fingers threading through his hair. But the casual force that drove Ayanami's cock deep into his mouth was something he had only tasted a few times. When Ayanami was like this, when the age of his soul walked abroad laughing, he used Hyuuga as off-handedly as if it was his right to do so.

It was, of course.

Hyuuga slid his hands up to close tight on Ayanami's hips, not trying to move him at all but still a bit of presumption, a teasing challenge to Ayanami's authority. He moaned low in his throat as Ayanami's fingers tightened, holding him perfectly still while Ayanami fucked his mouth hard and thorough. There was no other thrill, no other danger, quite like this. Hyuuga savored the edge of it as he worked his tongue over Ayanami, never looking away from the cold, brilliant eyes that looked down at him with distant amusement.

It was the eyes that finished him in the end, he thought. The way Ayanami watched his body pull taut, his breath come fast and short, with nothing but that sharp amusement. The way Ayanami held his eyes and didn't let him look away while his cock filled Hyuuga's mouth. Even when the raw heat of being pinned under that gaze finally raked through Hyuuga, sending his hips bucking helplessly against air as pleasure wrung him out, Ayanami didn't let him look away, and his moans were chopped short by the deep, hard thrust of Ayanami's cock into his throat.

When hot, salty flatness spilled across the back of Hyuuga's tongue, it wrung one last shudder of pleasure out of him.

Ayanami finally pulled away, fingers loosening and sliding through Hyuuga's hair. "That will do," he murmured.

"Yes, Lord," Hyuuga panted, voice husky, but still teasingly smug. He shivered as Ayanami drew his head all the way back and leaned down to kiss him, sharp and possessive. He didn't move from his knees as Ayanami turned and walked through his rooms to the bath, just slumped back to catch his breath.

And grinned.

He knew even the other Black Hawks thought he was a little crazy, but that was okay. It meant he got mornings like this all to himself.

And there was nothing like it.

End

Take Me to Yourselves Shamelessly

Hyuuga takes notice of Konatsu's interest and they wind up in bed. Konatsu only looks like he's the sane one, really. Porn, I-4

Konatsu was used to Hyuuga teasing him. Hyuuga teased everyone, including Ayanami-sama, which sometimes led the rest of the Hawks to quiet debates at the break table over whether Hyuuga really was completely insane or just faking it for his own purposes. Konatsu argued that there wasn't really a difference. Besides, Ayanami-sama seemed quite used to it, which was actually the scariest part.

Konatsu was used to it, also, though, so when the Major's hand descended out of nowhere to ruffle his hair as he filled out action reports (the Major's action reports, of course) Konatsu just sighed and kept writing. "What is it, Shousa?"

"Just thought I should congratulate you on keeping up so well with the paperwork," Hyuuga said in his most annoyingly cheery tone as he wandered past to lean on the completely empty desk that was, technically, his. Konatsu looked up with a glower.

"This is the paperwork you should be doing, Shousa," he scolded.

He knew that the regular forces also thought he was crazy for the way he talked to the Major. But it had been obvious as the sun in the sky, right from the moment they'd met, that Hyuuga would never respect fear. So Konatsu never showed it. He wasn't really sure he'd ever even felt it—not fear. Stunned amazement, fierce delight, genuine respect, incredible frustration, all of those, but not fear.

He supposed the regular forces might have a point, by their own standards.

Hyuuga ignored his scolding and just widened his eyes earnestly over the edge of his glasses. "But you do it so much better! Would you like a reward?" He produced a candy apple from the bag in his hand and held it out with a flourish.

"I'm not sixteen any more, Shousa," Konatsu sighed, filling in another line. "The candy has lost its novelty, and even as a child I never had that much of a sweet tooth."

"Hmmmm," Hyuuga mused around a bite of the apple. "True, true. I suppose you are growing up." A corner of his mouth curled up wickedly. "Perhaps you should have an adult kind of reward, now?"

Despite knowing, knowing, that Hyuuga was doing it to get a rise out of him, Konatsu couldn't help sputtering. "Major!" As the Major laughed, obviously pleased with the results of his teasing, Konatsu pulled a new form in front of him and concentrated on it ferociously, trying to will the heat out of his cheeks.

Stupid Majors and their stupid jokes, making him think of things he tried to avoid thinking of.

"Hm." That was such an alarmingly thoughtful sound that Konatsu looked up, wary. And then he had to swallow, because Hyuuga was watching him across the room with sharp, glinting eyes. That wasn't the teasing look, that was a lot closer to the way Hyuuga watched him when they sparred—the look that made Konatsu have to catch his breath and hope everyone took his flush for exertion. Three long strides brought Hyuuga back across the room to lean over Konatsu's chair and catch his chin, and Konatsu really couldn't help the sound he made, staring up into that knife-edge focus.

No. Not knife-edge. Sword edge.

"Looks like you are ready for adult things," Hyuuga purred, running his thumb over Konatsu's mouth, and Konatsu snatched in a gasp of breath.

"Shousa..." He could hear how husky his voice was, and thought that was probably what made Hyuuga smile. The smile was what struck a spark of anger in Konatsu—that was the way Hyuuga smiled at prey, and that simply wasn't acceptable. He stood, hands flat on Hyuuga's chest to push him back a step, and then fisted in his uniform coat as Konatsu stepped into him and leaned up to kiss him.

"Mmm." That was an approving sound, and Konatsu gasped again as Hyuuga's hand on his back pulled him in tight. Hyuuga kissed Konatsu again, hot and intent, tongue sweeping deep into his mouth, and Konatsu lost his breath on a soft moan. "Are you sure you want to try to spar with me this way, though?" Hyuuga murmured into his mouth.

The words brought the heat rushing through Konatsu into gleaming focus. Sparring. Daring the Major's edge and deadly brilliance. "Yes."

Hyuuga smiled, dark and sharp, and leaned in to breathe against Konatsu's ear, "Even though you know I don't stop, when we fight?"

Konatsu swallowed, torn between another surge of heat at the thought and a twinge of alarm; that was what made sparring with Hyuuga so incredible, but Konatsu knew how to use a sword. This... he didn't know; did that mean he couldn't hold his own?

"Shh." Hyuuga's fingers slid through his hair. "I won't hurt you, Konatsu. But I won't hold back, either."

Konatsu snorted and relaxed against him; that was all the reassurance he needed. "I don't want you to hold back."

Hyuuga laughed. "That's what I like about you." He kissed Konatsu one more time, fierce and deep, and drew back with a smile that teased the same way he teased Konatsu with the sword. "Come on."

Konatsu tried to catch his breath on the way down the halls to the Major's room, right next to his own, hoping his face wasn't as flushed as he thought it probably was. It was Konatsu's room the Major paused at, though. "Go take a shower; I'll be waiting for you," he said, and brushed a kiss over Konatsu's forehead before vanishing in his own door.

Konatsu ducked into his room, face flaming, hugely thankful there'd been no one else to see. "Okay," he said to his empty room, taking a deep breath. "Shower. Fine. Nothing to worry about." He firmly ignored the way his fingers fumbled a few times as he took off his uniform and hung it up. He turned the shower on hot, also trying to ignore the sound of water in the pipes on the other side of the wall.

He was used to Hyuuga teasing him, he reminded himself.

The memory of the Major's eyes on him, as he'd prowled across the office, made Konatsu have to lean against the tile wall for a moment, though. He was going to have all of that ferocity and glee focused on him—and not on the training floor this time.

Which brought up another thought, actually.

Konatsu was aware of the mechanics, of course. There'd been enough exploration going on at the Academy, it was hard not to be. But he'd never tried it himself, not with a man or a woman. He chewed on his lip as he soaped his back, thinking. He'd kind of like to have some idea about this, before he stepped into Hyuuga's room. How it felt. Finally, he took a little soap on one finger and reached back to press it between his cheeks, probing in. It felt a little odd—unfamiliar. Intimate, maybe, touching inside himself.

He thought about intimacy, and about the Major's hands doing this, and had to put a quick hand on the shower wall when his knees shook. Maybe... maybe he'd try a little more...

Two fingers was different, that stretched like muscles during a warm-up. He could feel, now, how this might push him, especially with something bigger. And Hyuuga had said he wouldn't hold back. Konatsu leaned his head against his forearm, on the wall, moving his fingers slowly and panting for breath in the clouds of steam. This... he wanted this, yes. Oh yes.

Once he'd dried off, he hesitated for a few moments, looking at his uniform. In the end, he closed the closet door again, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stuck his head out his door for a quick look to make sure the hall was empty before he dashed over to the Major's door and inside.

The Major, he couldn't help noticing at once, hadn't even bothered with a towel.

"There you are." Hyuuga strolled toward him and pulled Konatsu up, casual and hard, against his body. "You took a while. No second thoughts, though?" He slid a hand up under Konatsu's towel to knead his ass.

"No," Konatsu said, husky, reaching up to wrap his arms around Hyuuga's bare shoulders.

The Major's eyes narrowed a little, far more visible than usual with the dark glasses tossed on top of his uniform on the couch. His fingers spread Konatsu's cheeks, pushing between to rub slow, hard circles over his entrance. Konatsu leaned against him, knees shaky again as his muscles gave way easily. Slowly, Hyuuga smiled. "Ah. You were just getting yourself ready, I see." The smile was turning dark and hot. "Good." He backed toward the bed, drawing Konatsu along with him, hand still working over Konatsu's entrance slow and firm. Konatsu was very glad when they got to the bed, because his knees were giving out completely. "Shousa..."

Hyuuga tugged away the towel and pushed him down onto the sheets. "Use my name, when we're doing this." He prowled after Konatsu, bearing him down against the bed.

Konatsu swallowed and murmured, "Hyuuga-san." He pressed closer, hands tight on Hyuuga's back, and leaned up to catch his mouth. The force of the kiss he got in answer drove his breath out, and he barely noticed as Hyuuga fished for something among the pillows; it was far more important to pay attention to the way Hyuuga's tongue fought with his, just as overwhelming as it was when they fought with swords. When Hyuuga slid a thigh between his legs, Konatsu rocked shamelessly against it, gasping with the heat tightening his stomach. When long, slick, sword-calloused fingers pushed deep into his ass, he moaned out loud.

He'd been completely right about how amazing it felt to have Hyuuga's hands doing this instead of his own. Hyuuga's fingers worked his ass mercilessly, until he was panting for breath, pressing kisses and sharp bites along Hyuuga's shoulder. "Hyuuga-san... mm, oh please..." Hyuuga had said he wouldn't hold back, and Konatsu didn't want him to, wanted to feel more, to feel everything, right now.

"Hmm?" Hyuuga purred, dark and teasing. "You wanted something?"

Konatsu lifted his head and glared at him. "Fuck me," he snapped, in no mood for being played with and not intending to let Hyuuga get away with it.

Hyuuga's smile showed his teeth. "Yeah." He kissed Konatsu hard and sure before pulling Konatsu onto his side, back pressed against Hyuuga's chest. Konatsu wet his lips; he could feel Hyuuga's cock sliding between his cheeks, hard and thick. Hyuuga pushed one of Konatsu's knees up until he was spread open, half on his stomach, and pressed another kiss to the nape of his neck. Konatsu could feel the curve of Hyuuga's lips. "Now," he murmured, and Konatsu's breath caught at the fierce stretch as Hyuuga pushed into him.

He panted for breath, fingers kneading Hyuuga's sheet, and Hyuuga didn't stop—he was deep inside and then pulling back and then driving in again, hard, and he had an arm wrapped around Konatsu to keep him pulled in snug against Hyuuga's body where he couldn't get away.

He didn't want to get away. He wanted Hyuuga to keep going.

Hyuuga did, laughing low and breathless as Konatsu moaned and pushed back against his thrusts, taking him in deeper. Now it was Hyuuga's teeth that were marking Konatsu's shoulders, sharp and sure.

When Hyuuga's hand wrapped around his cock, all Konatsu could think of was Hyuuga's hand wrapping around his sword hilt, and that sent such a wild rush of heat through him that he was over the edge before he knew it, nearly screaming as pleasure raked down his nerves hard and fast. Hyuuga's hand slid up and down his cock, quick and rough, and Konatsu shuddered, hips bucking. Hyuuga growled against his ear and pushed him all the way over onto his stomach, hands on his hips pulling him up in the air. Konatsu gasped as Hyuuga's cock drove back into his ass and fucked him hard and fierce. He moaned into the sheets with every stroke, hands finding a pillow to fist in, gasping with the aftershocks of heat that rocked through him.

The sound Hyuuga made when he finally buried himself in Konatsu and stilled, the low purr of satisfaction, sent a shiver down Konatsu's spine.

When Hyuuga let him down to the bed again, Konatsu just lay there for a little, catching his breath. Eventually, Hyuuga kissed his shoulder, the solid heat of his body stretched out against Konatsu's back, and murmured. "Good?"

"Mmm," Konatsu answered, still floating a little. "Yeah. Lots."

Hyuuga laughed and gathered Konatsu back against him again, nibbling on his ear. "Good. So, the next time I want to drag you back to my room after practice, I don't have to hold back?"

Konatsu nearly moaned again at the thought of Hyuuga's hands on him right after he'd been holding his swords. "No, go ahead."

"Mmmm." Hyuuga's mouth curved against his neck. "And the next time you're working too hard on the paperwork, I can bend you over your desk and open you up until you're begging and then fuck you until you scream?"

Konatsu almost said yes before he remembered where and when Hyuuga had just proposed to do that, and choked. He twisted around in Hyuuga's arms to glare at him. "Shousa!"

Hyuuga sighed. "Guess that's a no? Too bad." And then he grinned, dark and gleaming, and traced a finger over Konatsu's mouth and down the line of his throat. "Well, maybe I can convince you anyway. It works on Aya-tan."

Konatsu tried not to, but he couldn't help imagining Hyuuga, this wild, sharp Hyuuga, doing... something with Ayanami-sama in Ayanami-sama's office. "Shousa..." he protested, strangled.

He was never, ever again going to be able to ignore or explain away the times Hyuuga came back from the office suites shaky and grinning.

He banged his head against the Major's shoulder a few times, hopelessly, and growled when Hyuuga laughed. The Major owed him for that, and he knew, now, exactly how he was going to demand payment.

Just... not over the desk.

End

Strength in Trembling

Hyuuga has a real Thing for Ayanami's whip, and Ayanami has noticed this. Eventually, he decides to cut past the teasing and give Hyuuga what he's angling for. Porn, BDSM, I-4

One of Hyuuga's great entertainments in life was to tease his commander. Aya-san spent way too much of his time being serious, and Hyuuga felt it was his solemn duty to make sure Aya-san's face didn't freeze like that. And, while Aya-san made a great show of being annoyed by the teasing, he always played along. It was always his whip he went for, when Hyuuga was teasing, never his sword, never his zaiphon, not a brisk backhand; actually, when Aya-san responded with only a quick cuff, that was when Hyuuga knew he was genuinely supposed to straighten up and take things seriously. No, when they were playing it was always the whip, which was frankly the show-off option. Aya-san's speed and control with it were things of beauty.

And, to be honest, it made Hyuuga a little hot to watch. It sometimes made him regret that they only ever played to first touch, in those little matches. But he'd take what he could get, and that was why he was teasing Aya-san again today, lounging beside his desk in the most relaxed attitude possible while Aya-san worked methodically through a stack of tedious-looking paperwork. Aya-san's eyes were already just a little narrowed with annoyance, which was a good start.

"I'm sure you have work of your own to be doing, Hyuuga," Aya-san told him, not looking up from the papers.

Hyuuga took a cheery bite out of his candied apple. "Nope! Konatsu will catch anything that really needs attention. So I don't have anything that needs doing this afternoon." He slouched more comfortably into the chair, keeping an eye on Aya-san's hands; after a crack like that, he expected today's game to get off to a quick start.

So he was nonplused when Aya-san paused and looked up at him. "In fact," his commander murmured, "you have an assignment on your desk to take care of a little noble's rebellion in the Third District. I know because I put it there." Hyuuga blinked, startled, and Aya-san folded his hands contemplatively on his desk. "You don't ordinarily ignore that kind of work in favor of your games."

Hyuuga opened his mouth and closed it again, ruefully remembering that he was speaking to one of the premier strategists of the Imperial Armed Forces. "I wouldn't want you to feel neglected, Aya-tan."

Aya-san gave him the faintly exasperated look he seemed to save especially for Hyuuga. "I'm not in that much need of a break, Hyuuga." And then his eyes narrowed and he added, softer. "Are you? Is it a sparring match you're after?"

Hyuuga smiled at him sunnily. "You know I'll always take a match with you." Which was only the truth.

"Hm." Aya-san stood and came around the desk, arms folded, looking down at him thoughtfully. As if absently, his fingers brushed over the coil of his whip, and Hyuuga really couldn't help the way his eyes flickered down to it for a single instant. When he forced them back up, Aya-san was smiling, amused. "So that's it."

Hyuuga felt his face heating a little. He did try not to be too demanding. It wasn't his fault that Aya-san could read him like a book.

"Come with me," Aya-san ordered briskly, and turned toward the door. Hyuuga trailed after with a wry smile. He should really stop thinking he could hide things from Aya-san.

They weren't headed for any of the training halls that the Black Hawks sometimes used for pure weapons work, though, and puzzlement tugged at Hyuuga as they passed through the offices and into the halls of the officer's quarters. Was there something Aya-san wanted from his rooms? When they arrived, Aya-san beckoned Hyuuga in with a tilt of his head. Hyuuga shrugged and slipped in after him.

Aya-san's rooms were neat and orderly, almost painfully so; even the cushions on the couches were carefully squared up. At this hour the wide windows were in soft shadow as the light of the setting sun streamed past from the other side of the Fortress. Aya-san liked to have the morning sun instead. The indirect light was warm and low and a little unworldly.

In that light, Aya-san turned to face him, and Hyuuga was struck all over again by his commander's beauty and danger, balanced as a fine blade. When Aya-san said quietly, "Come here, Hyuuga," he did. He wasn't sure where this was going, but, then, he didn't need to know.

Aya-san smiled up at him, eyes sharp, and murmured, "If you want the whip, Hyuuga, all you need to do is ask for it."

Shock and heat struck through Hyuuga like lightning grounding.

"Do you?" Aya-san asked.

Abruptly breathless with what Aya-san was offering him, Hyuuga wet his lips. "Yes," he answered, husky. "Yes, I want it." And not just to first touch, this time.

Aya-san's smile curled a bit wider. "Tell me," he said softly, and Hyuuga had to close his eyes for a moment.

"I want to feel it," he whispered. "More than just one touch. I want to feel what you can do with it, god I want..." He took a shaky breath. He hadn't honestly thought Aya-san would ever offer him this, and the thought being on the other end of Aya-san's whip, not as a game but purely so that he could taste the intensity and artistry of it, made his knees a little weak.

Aya-san nodded. "Get undressed, then."

Hyuuga had to take a few seconds to steady his fingers on the buckles of his own uniform, but eventually he peeled himself out of everything and tossed his clothing over the arm of Aya-san's couch. When he turned around he had to take another second, because Aya-san had stripped off his cap and gloves, his sword and coat, even his shirt, and the shift of muscles in his back as he drew the length of his whip slowly through his hands made Hyuuga swallow hard. When Aya-san turned around, he was smiling.

"Stand here at the window," he directed quietly, and Hyuuga did as he said, breath picking up as he turned his back to Aya-san and looked out over the glow of the city. A shiver brushed through him as Aya-san's hands slid slowly down his arms. It came back, stronger, when strings of light coiled down after Aya-san's fingers and lifted his arms over his head. They were weightless, there was no pressure on his arms at all, but he couldn't move them. More curled down his legs, holding him spread open in place.

"Aya-san," he breathed.

A new touch slid over his back, rough but butterfly light against his skin. The whip, he realized, light-headed, snaking in ceaseless S curves, side to side.

"What I can do with it," Aya-san murmured thoughtfully behind him. "Yes. I'll show you that, Hyuuga." The whip snaked over Hyuuga's ass soft as a promise and he heard Aya-san stepping back a few strides. His senses strained, poised and waiting, and he tensed hearing the soft hiss of the whip through the air.

It barely kissed his back, a single delicate sting, light and teasing. Another. Another, tracking down his body like a scatter of sparks. They flirted with Hyuuga, each bite tiny and promising, until he he was hard, arched against the strings binding him, and making pleading sounds through his teeth. "Aya-san..."

Aya-san laughed softly, and the next stroke didn't sting; it laid a stripe of pressure against his skin, sharp and defined but almost soft in contrast. Again, and again, and Hyuuga could feel the way Aya-san was loosening each stroke at the last moment, easing the force from it. It made him flushed, a little dizzy, because this wasn't the way they sparred. This was the way Aya-san made love.

On the next stroke, the whip cracked and Hyuuga moaned as another spark bit the inside of his thigh, just high enough to make his hips jerk futilely against the hold of Aya-san's strings. "Aya-san." The whip fell on his back again, harder and slowly harder, each stroke driving deeper into his muscles, heating them, burning his skin, printing Ayanami's mark on him.

Hyuuga was starting to lose everything but the feeling of the whip against his body, the hard, burning lines of it across his back and ass and down his thighs. He could see the city spread out in front of him but he couldn't pay attention to it. He could hear the sounds of the Fortress around them but none of them mattered except the sound of the whip cutting the air and licking his skin. He could feel sweat on his skin and didn't know whether he was hot or cold. He was achingly hard and all he wanted was for Ayanami not to stop.

The whip was heavy on him now, jerking his body in the hold of Ayanami's strings stroke after stroke, and he was panting with it. It was sweet and intense, electric and maddening, and he yearned toward it even as it rose toward an unbearable crest. There was only raw sensation, now, a vast, hot weight of it built up under the blows of Ayanami's whip, poised to crush him and lifting him up with every gasped breath. A hard crack of the whip across his back sent him arching senselessly against the strings, body trembling. Another stroke. Another. Breath was rasping in his throat and he wavered, senses on the edge of falling into darkness.

Quiet fell. There was warmth against his back, solid and resilient, and hands stroking slowly up and down his body, easing him back to the world. He couldn't stand, but the strings held him up. Gradually, he recognized Ayanami's words against his ear.

"...easy, Hyuuga. We're done."

Hyuuga rested his head against one of his bound arms, lips parted as he panted for breath. "Ayanami-sama," he finally whispered, hoarse. It was the only thing that even started to get at how he felt in this time and place, after being brought to the edge like that.

"Yes," Ayanami murmured to him. His hands moved gently over the slowly settling burn in Hyuuga's back. "Was that what you needed?"

Hyuuga nodded quietly. He felt more wrung out than even sparring usually left him.

"Good." The strings moved, moving him with them to turn and face Ayanami, who smiled slowly and drew his head down to a gentle kiss. Gentler than Ayanami usually was with him, and Hyuuga was grateful for it. He felt too raw and open right now to take anything else.

Ayanami looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before going to the sideboard for a glass of water. He came back and fed it to Hyuuga a sip at a time without freeing him; Hyuuga remembered Konatsu doing rather the same thing the last time Hyuuga had woken up from getting a sword through him, and wondered if Ayanami had told him what to do. Finally, Ayanami led him to the bed and let him down onto it, releasing the strings. Hyuuga curled up on his side, still dazed, content to let Ayanami draw a blanket over him and sit beside him, fingers combing through his hair. "You're going to be marked from this," Ayanami remarked, eventually, and Hyuuga shivered a little, eyes closing.

"Yes," he murmured, husky. "I want that." He wanted to carry this with him for a while, the memory of that amazing touch, so skillful and so intense. The memory of Ayanami's gentleness, after the ferocity. "Ayanami-sama," he said again, softly, almost entreating, on the edge of apology. Normally, he was the one who never called Ayanami that, who never demanded, by word or sign, that his friend act as his superior, the responsible leader. But right now, marked so hard and deep by Ayanami's skill, he couldn't do anything else.

Ayanami was silent for a moment. "I value your friendship, Hyuuga," he said at last, quietly. "But your reverence is not a burden to me. You don't need to hide it. Remember that."

Hyuuga's breath caught and he found himself trembling under Ayanami's hand, under that permission and release. He bowed his head under Ayanami's fingers and whispered, "Yes, Ayanami-sama."

For just a little while he wanted to show this openly, his love and, yes, reverence for this man. Soon, he knew, he'd go back to wanting to tweak his oldest friend's nose and tease him out of his seriousness. But for now, he could be as the other Black Hawks were, could worship the man as much as the god.

His friend would still be there on the other side.

Hyuuga lay quiet under Ayanami's touch and let the moment be everything and all that it was.

End

The Name of the Sound

Ayanami is more volatile than usual. This time, Hyuuga gets broken harder than usual. And then he has to explain the whole thing to Konatsu. Drama, Non-explicit BDSM, I-5

Hyuuga strolled down the halls of headquarters with a bounce in his step. He always liked it when he got an assignment that was actually fun. Or could be made fun.

"Is Ayanami-sama actually going to accept the idea that you were honor bound to engage in single combat with the whole Gibraldan home guard?" Konatsu asked dubiously, at his elbow.

"Sure he will!" Hyuuga asserted with perfect confidence. In fact, Aya-san would believe nothing of the sort, but he would roll his eyes on the inside and be amused, which came to more or less the same thing. "Just let me do the talking while we report."

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

Hyuuga fancied Konatsu's grim tone covered up a certain amount of amusement there, too. Or at least anticipation. Konatsu always seemed to feel vindicated when Aya-san squelched Hyuuga's teasing. He didn't realize yet that was just Aya-san's way of teasing back. Hyuuga was kind of looking forward to getting to see Konatsu's expression the day he did figure it out. He was smiling as he threw open the door of Aya-san's office. "Aya-tan! We're back from our trip and we brought you souvenirs!"

Ayanami turned away from where he stood at his window, and Hyuuga stilled abruptly at the icy distance in his eyes. Something very close to panic sizzled through him as he looked into the bottomless gaze of Verloren's memories. If he were alone, he could tease or coax or yield, whatever it took to get Aya-san back from the depths of the past, but he wasn't alone today.

"Konatsu," he said quietly, "I'll make our report myself. Go. Now."

Konatsu looked up at him, puzzled. He didn't recognize what Ayanami was right now; Hyuuga had taken some care to keep him away when Ayanami got like this. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

"But..." Konatsu cut off, eyes widening as Hyuuga's hand closed hard on his shoulder.

"Now."

"You overstep yourself." Ayanami's voice was cool and dangerous, and it was rage that flickered behind his eyes today. Not something teasing or coaxing was going to work on.

Not something Konatsu should be present while Hyuuga dealt with.

Hyuuga took a step forward, hoping he could distract Ayanami's attention. "Lord," he said, level and firm, "Konatsu is your own blood and he serves you well. Your anger shouldn't fall on him." From the corner of his eye, he saw Konatsu stiffen, startled and still. Yes, he should definitely have told Konatsu that sometimes the Black Hawks truly did deal with their Lord directly. Hindsight was distressingly acute. Hyuuga stiffened a little himself as Ayanami approached them with a faint, dark smile. His hands curled into fists at his sides as Ayanami stopped beside him, looking at Konatsu.

"You have the arrogance to tell me what I should and should not do, Hyuuga?"

Hyuuga winced; he'd known that was a provocation with Ayanami in this mood, but he'd hoped it would focus Ayanami on him. That... seemed to have backfired. Ayanami took Konatsu's chin in his fingers, looking down at him with cold eyes. Konatsu stood without resistance, barely breathing, eyes wide and alarmed. "Are you saying," Ayanami asked Hyuuga without taking his eyes off Konatsu, "that you don't serve me well? In contrast to Konatsu."

Hyuuga swallowed, relief and tension winding together down his spine. Ayanami was playing with him; he wasn't really focused on Konatsu. This could still go well, if he could guess what would satisfy Ayanami, and call it on himself alone. He took a slow breath, considering his options. "If you break me, I'll survive it and live to serve you after," he finally said, alternately hot and cold with what he was naming and offering, but he suspected that, after challenging Ayanami in this temper, nothing less would suffice. He bent his head down, underlining his offer. "If it's me."

"Indeed." There was a smile in Ayanami's voice, a dark one. "Go, Konatsu."

Hyuuga glanced over from the corner of his eye to see Konatsu, visibly shaking, bow deeply and back to the door. He let out a deeply relieved breath as it closed behind the boy. And then he had to swallow with the heat and apprehension coiling through him as Ayanami turned to him.

"Look at me, Hyuuga."

Hyuuga lifted his head and his lungs locked. The force of Ayanami's gaze on him was like a blow, and he felt breathless, unbearable pressure at the core of himself. An increasing pressure. Rather like someone with a sheet of mica between his hands, pressing on the center with both thumbs.

Like the sheet of mica, it wasn't long at all before Hyuuga's soul snapped into glittering shards in Ayanami's hands.

That was only the beginning.

"...and I've never seen the Major do anything like that before, what's going on?! Ayanami-sama was... I mean, he was..."

Katsuragi ran a hand through his hair and sighed as Konatsu faltered into silence. "There are times our Lord's memories are stronger in Ayanami-sama than others. And our Lord has both great sorrow and great fury in him. Hyuuga is the one who can deal best with him, when he's like this."

Konatsu frowned, worry plain in his face. "But what—" He jerked to his feet and spun toward the door of the Black Hawk's small common room as the first scream rang down the corridor. Katsuragi grabbed his arm before he could run.

"Haruse," he said calmly. "Close the door." He scolded himself for not thinking to do that sooner; as soon as Konatsu started talking, it had been clear just how dangerous a mood Ayanami-sama was in. Konatsu whirled on him, outraged, even as Haruse pulled the door firmly to, closing out the sounds from down the hall.

"Katsuragi-taisa!"

"Hyuuga knows what he's doing," Katsuragi stated flatly. "He got you out of the way for a reason; there's nothing you could do that would help. Don't interfere." He softened a little at the stricken look Konatsu gave him and guided the boy to a seat and poured him a cup of coffee. The heat would do him good. "I know it's hard to believe, right now," he said as Konatsu wrapped shaking hands around the cup, "but Hyuuga does this willingly."

"Hyuuga and this," Kuroyuri said softly, curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around her knees. "It's kind of like me and flavors." She cocked her head at Konatsu. "You know how it needs to be really strong for me to taste? Like that."

Konatsu bit his lip and Katsuragi rested a hand on his head. "Wait here for him. You'll see." He fetched a cup of coffee for himself and inquired how Konatsu and Hyuuga's last assignment had gone, keeping the boy talking so he wouldn't listen too hard to the faint, desperate sounds still coming through the closed door.

For a long time he drifted in the darkness of his mind and soul. Broken bits of excitement, fear, unbearable and unidentifiable response flickered through and past him. Eventually, slowly, he came back enough to remember a few things. Who and where he was. Who was with him. That sent a jolt of heat and dread through him, though he couldn't put words to why, yet, even in his own head. Anxiety wrapped around him, sourceless until he finally recognized that there were hands on him, an arm around him, fingers brushing back his hair and gently removing his glasses. When Hyuuga managed to open his eyes, seeing Ayanami looking down at him gave him another jolt.

"Lord," his lips formed, driven to respond though his throat was too raw to really say it.

Ayanami pressed two fingers lightly against his lips. "Shh. Be still, Hyuuga. It's all right."

Hyuuga sagged back, relaxing. That was Aya-san; it was Aya-san's hand that rested warm on his chest, Aya-san's zaiphon that curled delicately around long fingers. After another few, dazed moments, he realized that Aya-san must be healing him.

After a time, while he lay in Aya-san's hold, quiet and contented under the hand piecing his body and soul back together, Aya-san asked quietly, "Why did you provoke me?"

Hyuuga shrugged just a little, still shaky with reaction to what Ayanami had done to him. "I wanted to be sure you focused on me and not Konatsu."

Aya-san gave him a slightly reproving look. "You know perfectly well how to turn my anger aside, if you were worried about Konatsu."

Hyuuga smiled up at him, relaxing more as Aya-san's power smoothed away the strain in his body, the lingering twinges of pain in his soul. "Yeah, but I'm the one you don't have to hold back with. I'm not going to change that."

Aya-san looked down at him for a long moment, hand resting against his chest. "Everything changes eventually."

Hyuuga's mouth quirked and he let his head rest against Aya-san's shoulder as his body and soul settled back into solidity. "I'm yours," he answered simply. "Everything I am is in your hands. If you choose to break me, I'll submit. If you choose to heal me, I'll submit. Always" He smiled. "Some day you'll believe that."

"'Always' is an illusion, Hyuuga." Hyuuga wrinkled his nose at Aya-san's stubbornness but held his peace and let Aya-san help him back to his feet. "Can you walk?"

Hyuuga stretched his legs a bit cautiously and nodded. "Yeah." He smiled wryly. "And I'd better walk wherever Konatsu got to and reassure him the world isn't ending."

Aya-san held his eyes for a long moment and finally drew him down gently and kissed him. "Rest once you've done that," he ordered quietly.

Hyuuga smiled. "Yes, Aya-tan," he lilted.

Ayanami looked very nearly exasperated and Hyuuga made his slightly wobbly way to the door, grinning.

Konatsu was trying hard not to bite his nails. The screaming had stopped some time ago, but his imagination insisted on filling in things that might still be happening, each more alarming than the last. When Hyuuga finally appeared in the door of the common room, pale and shaky, Konatsu knocked over his mug springing to his feet. "Hyuuga-san!" He skidded to a halt in front of Hyuuga, checking himself, unsure whether it was safe to touch him.

Hyuuga smiled and ruffled his hair. "I'm fine Konatsu, don't worry. Aya-tan wouldn't let me go without making sure of that." He was leaning heavily against the doorway as he spoke, though, and Konatsu gave him a very dubious look.

"We heard..." he murmured, and trailed off, uncertain how to describe sitting here listening to the muffled screams of his superior officer, knowing they were wrung out of him by the commander they both followed.

Hyuuga winced. "Oh man. Okay, look." He pushed himself more or less upright and Konatsu finally couldn't stand it any longer and ducked under his arm to support him. Hyuuga smiled down at him. "Aya-tan wants me to rest. Help me back to my room, and I'll try to explain, okay?" He waved over his shoulder to Katsuragi, who nodded calmly back.

Konatsu steered them to Hyuuga's rooms, increasingly puzzled. The Major didn't really seem like he was injured—more like he was drunk. When Konatsu finally got them as far as Hyuuga's bed, the man rolled off his shoulder and flopped onto it, limp and relaxed.

"Oof! That was an intense one." He made mournful puppy-dog eyes at Konatsu from where he lay. "Help me off with the boots?"

Konatsu silently unbuckled the Major's boots and set them neatly by the bed, and went to fetch a glass of water too. When Hyuuga smiled and patted the mattress beside him, he came and sat, waiting.

"The thing is," Hyuuga said quietly, after drinking, "Aya-tan only lets himself do this because I like it." Long, mobile lips quirked up. "Once or twice I've even begged for it." Konatsu felt his eyes widening, and Hyuuga chuckled. "You've felt what it's like at the edge, Konatsu, at least with the sword. This is the same thing, to me."

Konatsu's eyes nearly crossed, thinking about it, but he could almost—almost—understand that. "But Ayanami-sama," he said, low. "He wasn't just... he wanted to..." Ayanami-sama had wanted to hurt something; it had been right there in the cold eyes looking down at him.

"Mmm." Hyuuga looked up at the ceiling. "You know the stories our families pass down, about Verloren, right?"

"That he lost his love and followed her soul to the mortal world, mad with grief?" Konatsu guessed. He'd kind of been thinking about that 'mad' part, today, he had to admit.

"Think about what the story really means, though," Hyuuga told him softly. "Before he ever left Heaven, he was blamed for Eve's death and his power was broken from him. That's not just a metaphor, for a being of spirit, is it? It's like he had his hands cut off."

Konatsu stilled, struck by that. He hadn't thought about what that meant before, no.

"And on top of that," Hyuuga went on, holding up a finger, "once he gets here and starts searching for her, his own hands get sent after him to tear his soul and body apart." Hyuuga looked over at him, eyes grave for once. "You've felt what it's like to have your soul divided, and that was by someone who cherishes you and was careful with you. Imagine having that done by force, by someone you hate, someone you're fighting with all your strength."

Konatsu slowly pressed a hand against his mouth, swallowing convulsively as his gorge rose. "Ayanami-sama... I mean, Verloren-sama..."

"Yeah." Hyuuga folded his hands over his stomach, looking at the ceiling again. "All of that is what's inside him. And once Raphael's seal broke, he remembered it."

"Hyuuga-san," Konatsu whispered, shocked. This, this was what his superior had put himself in the way of!

Hyuuga smiled, crooked. "He's the most dangerous thing in all the worlds. And I'm the one person he knows, right down to his soul, he doesn't have to hold back with. You understand?"

Konatsu was silent for a long moment, thinking. He did understand Hyuuga's passion for danger, for the edge of life and death; he even shared some of it. He could see why his superior would court Ayanami-sama's anger. And he thought he could understand why someone who held such anger in his soul needed a way to free it before it overflowed. But there was something else to it, he thought.

"You love him," he said, finally.

Hyuuga blinked at him and then laughed. "Don't we all?"

Konatsu smiled a little. He thought he also understood why Hyuuga had explained all this to him, and it wasn't only for Konatsu's sake. "Yes, sir. We do."

Hyuuga yawned and stretched against the bed, curling up into his disordered blankets. "Mm, think it's about time for me to get some sleep, like Aya-tan said, then."

Konatsu stood. "Sleep well, Shousa." He drew the blinds and turned off the lights, closing the door softly behind him.

And then he made his way back to Ayanami-sama's office.

"Ayanami-sama?" He tapped on the frame of the open door respectfully. Ayanami looked up from where he stood by his desk, and Konatsu didn't think it was his imagination that that still face turned stiller. He'd had a few years, now, to get used to Ayanami-sama's expressions, minimal as they were under his unbending control. This one was shuttered. Konatsu nodded to himself and came to stand before his commander, almost as close as Ayanami-sama had stood when he was toying with Hyuuga earlier, looking up at him. "I don't think you had a chance to hear our report, earlier, sir," he said quite calmly. "Shall I make it now?"

In comparison to the stillness, the faint smile that suddenly curved Ayanami-sama's lips, the light of pride and satisfaction in his eyes, was so clear that Konatsu couldn't help blushing. He ducked his head and glanced up shyly at his commander; he had hoped to offer what reassurance he could, but he hadn't expected to be shown this kind of approval. It settled his heart.

Ayanami-sama finally stepped around his desk and sat, hands folded on the expanse of polished wood. "Yes," he murmured, leaning back. "Tell me how it went."

"Yes, sir." Konatsu settled himself before the desk, hands clasped lightly behind him. "We reached the Gibraldan Duchy late yesterday..."

Ayanami-sama listened, and in the warmth of his regard Konatsu thought that maybe he truly did understand how Hyuuga could go to such lengths to serve this man and never fear or doubt that he would survive it and be well.

Perhaps Konatsu couldn't serve in quite the same way, but the next time he saw that fury he didn't think he'd be afraid either.

End