[ CASTLE / chapter 6 / R / explicit!sex ]
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A Castle of Silence and Bones
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x006.
this is an elixir of love
(I am no more or less twisted than you, for I have made you to be me)
-
They fuck for the first time the next day.
When Kiku opens the door, he does not know what to expect. The drug was not experimental; after all, it had worked (on Chinese soldiers, on Russian ones). The two of them, Ludwig and Kiku of course, would have been more than willing to test it out on Francis (simply to see how it affected a nation, no more or less), had Feliciano not employed his veto power then.
Sentimental emotions are dangerous, he would have believed.
But Feliciano is different, no longer carelessly laughs after falling. 'Good,' Kiku thinks, for that is Ludwig, that is Germany's influence. Feliciano still eats and drinks and cheers when the executioner has come and gone, but the lightness is his eyes (that lightness that made Kiku writhe and twist in sick, sick jealousy) has been extinguished.
'Good,' he thinks again.
The room's sole occupant lays motionless on the bed, his tattered uniform (the one Kiku did not bother to change him out of--yet) showing the clear line of ribs and empty stomach. His heavy lids are closed, and were it not for the blood trailing from his open mouth, Kiku would have (might have) believed the other to be peacefully sleeping.
He breaths a sigh of relief, strides over to the bed, and sits on the edge. With a gentleness he did not know he possessed, yet another thing Yao must've taught him at one point or another, he lifts limp neck, moving the various pillows (they are all in shambles, but it does not matter, he'll replace them) so that Yao is roughly inclined.
Like a storybook, a fairy-tale, Yao's eyes flutter and then open. Kiku manuevers the rice-filled spoon towards the other's mouth. Wordlessly, Yao opens his mouth, taking the rice. Kiku's hand is shaking when he fills another spoonful (he steadies it shortly). Yao chews and swallows mechanically, but Kiku does not care for Yao is eating.
Somehow or another, Kiku manages to feed Yao the whole of the meal. He wants to ask something, wants a reason to stay longer than the normal 'check-up' period. Yao gives him the reason, grabbing hold of his sleeve. Kiku stares at the hand, bloody and bony and still ever-so-pale. Slowly, he intertwines their fingers, cups Yao's face with his other hand and gingerly presses dry lips on dry lips. Yao's grip on his left hand is light, but unyielding, and the other glides his lips against Kiku's nape. Kiku shivers, but does not stop (he has wanted this for far too long).
Yao closes his eyes when Kiku begins to single-handedly unbutton his ripped and ragged shirt. The clasped hands never leave one another, even as Kiku slowly, gently, slides already-loose pants down trembling legs. Yao parts them, eyes still closed, and Kiku cannot remove the entirety of his jacket with only one hand. Neither of them take notice in the clatter of imperial sword and gun, and Kiku has managed to stop his right hand from shaking when he does the buckle of his pants.
It is subtle and sensual and graceful and Yao rises to meet him. Kiku wraps his right arm about the other's thin waist, pulling Yao closer, closer, burrowing his head into the crook of the elder's neck. He licks and sucks and sometimes nibbles, but never outrightedly bites. Despite his age and history of conquest, both by and to, Yao is achingly tight, and Kiku sees stars and light and something more by the third fervent thrust. Yao clenches, jerks, and moans. His fingers tighten about Kiku's, and his free hand finds itself buried in short, choppy locks.
"Nii-sama..."
Kiku's eyes widen and his mouth pauses in between a kiss at the juncture of the other's shoulder and neck.
He, Kiku, had not yet spoken.
Is it still called 'love-making' if there is no love to be made--?
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