(no subject)
Microcosm fic, lajsfjsjf.
C.C., Lelouch, Euphie. Aftermath of the Halloween event. :| Originally half-written at 8 AM this morning, and then finished when Zazzle went and sent me fic, lajsfksjfj.
ALSO ITP I take liberties with C.C. which isn't as sexy as it might sound. 8|
--
This place will never stop being so confusing, Euphemia is slowly realizing. It starts with C.C., and long nights spent cuddled in the same bed, and ends with her pressed against a wall, Lelouch pressed tight and firm against her, fingers and mouth driving her even more mad than she feels every time she remembers just where they are and what they have to do.
There's nothing she can do about it, though, not when there's the lingering realization and knowledge that this is it.
This is it; the rest of her life is confined to this, and while it's not horrible, it's not home and she realizes that she can't ever go home. Here, she can be Euphie (C.C.'s lover, Shirley's friend, Mikogami's housemate-) all of that and more, and there, she is nothing but the massacre princess, a name she knows has to be spoken with hatred and fear.
None of that really matters now, though, not when she's sinking down as low as she can in the bubbles of the bath, until they're up to her chin and she can't hear anything over the soft rush of water filling up the bathtub around her. C.C. and Lelouch are talking downstairs, she knows- or, well. C.C. is probably teasing Lelouch and Lelouch is probably blushing or explaining how having your hand up your sister's dress is quite normal and somehow it's alright, thank you very much, and don't you have some pizza to eat?
Making a vaguely disgruntled noise, Euphemia sinks lower into the bath, well aware it might take more than twenty minutes, not really sure she wants to go down there and be embarrassed (but somehow, it's alright to leave Lelouch down there for teasing- she's not sure about the logic on that, but certainly there is some.)
A few moments later, she tips her head back and grabs for the washcloth, drizzling her bodywash on it, starting to wash up with as much speed as she can muster, flinching a little when the cloth brushes over a spot on her neck that twinges just a little, and
'This will feel good.' She doesn't even have the time to think about if it's a threat or a promise, before he's biting her and something like that- teeth and an edge of pain- shouldn't feel so good.
It does, it does, though, and it's all she can do to keep her legs from giving out for a moment at the shock of pleasure that only gets worse when he presses his hand between her legs in a decidedly not innocent gesture. It only gets worse (better, her mind corrects) until she's-
"Ah-" Euphemia shifts abruptly in the water, water splashing and sloshing, realizing she'd been touching herself and how wrong is that, thinking about what they'd done up against a wall, thinking about things that she and Lelouch were doing (even better worse, about the things they could have done, had she not stopped them)-- not Suzaku, not C.C., but Lelouch, who loves Shirley and.
And who loves her, and that is just even more confusing, more damning for both of them, maybe.
Yet -there's always a yet, always something else because nothing is ever, ever in black and white anymore, no matter how much she wants it to be- she's still worked up, still wound up and all it took was a few barely there touches to remind her of how Lelouch's hand felt and... it couldn't hurt, right? Never mind the fact she hadn't...ever really done this on her own. Never mind that it's wrongwrongwrong that she's touching herself while thinking of Lelouch and being pressed against a wall, one hand pinned back- never mind that all it takes is a few moments of rubbing quick, firm little circles against her clit and slipping one finger inside herself before she comes, embarrassingly hard for so little work, a short cry escaping before she can muffle it.
It takes a moment for her to get up, but when she does, she drains the bath and showers quickly, padding back downstairs after sliding into a pair of pajamas, and a robe, trying to will away the blush she is sure is on her cheeks.
"Did you slip in the shower?" C.C. asks, tone absolutely wicked like she knows what that short, abrupt cry was, and Euphemia nearly trips on her way to sit on the couch, leaving her to grope and recover and curl up in the corner. "It must have been terribly hot water for there to have been so much steam for you to trip. Would you like me to talk to Mikogami to see about someone fixing the knobs for the shower, it-"
"N-No!" Euphemia manages, and tugs the robe up to her chin, legs curled against her chest. "I just. Spent too long in the shower. I'm fine."
It is possible, she realizes, to be even more mortified than she had felt a half hour ago, and makes every effort to melt into the couch and not look at either of them.
C.C., Lelouch, Euphie. Aftermath of the Halloween event. :| Originally half-written at 8 AM this morning, and then finished when Zazzle went and sent me fic, lajsfksjfj.
ALSO ITP I take liberties with C.C. which isn't as sexy as it might sound. 8|
--
This place will never stop being so confusing, Euphemia is slowly realizing. It starts with C.C., and long nights spent cuddled in the same bed, and ends with her pressed against a wall, Lelouch pressed tight and firm against her, fingers and mouth driving her even more mad than she feels every time she remembers just where they are and what they have to do.
There's nothing she can do about it, though, not when there's the lingering realization and knowledge that this is it.
This is it; the rest of her life is confined to this, and while it's not horrible, it's not home and she realizes that she can't ever go home. Here, she can be Euphie (C.C.'s lover, Shirley's friend, Mikogami's housemate-) all of that and more, and there, she is nothing but the massacre princess, a name she knows has to be spoken with hatred and fear.
None of that really matters now, though, not when she's sinking down as low as she can in the bubbles of the bath, until they're up to her chin and she can't hear anything over the soft rush of water filling up the bathtub around her. C.C. and Lelouch are talking downstairs, she knows- or, well. C.C. is probably teasing Lelouch and Lelouch is probably blushing or explaining how having your hand up your sister's dress is quite normal and somehow it's alright, thank you very much, and don't you have some pizza to eat?
Making a vaguely disgruntled noise, Euphemia sinks lower into the bath, well aware it might take more than twenty minutes, not really sure she wants to go down there and be embarrassed (but somehow, it's alright to leave Lelouch down there for teasing- she's not sure about the logic on that, but certainly there is some.)
A few moments later, she tips her head back and grabs for the washcloth, drizzling her bodywash on it, starting to wash up with as much speed as she can muster, flinching a little when the cloth brushes over a spot on her neck that twinges just a little, and
'This will feel good.' She doesn't even have the time to think about if it's a threat or a promise, before he's biting her and something like that- teeth and an edge of pain- shouldn't feel so good.
It does, it does, though, and it's all she can do to keep her legs from giving out for a moment at the shock of pleasure that only gets worse when he presses his hand between her legs in a decidedly not innocent gesture. It only gets worse (better, her mind corrects) until she's-
"Ah-" Euphemia shifts abruptly in the water, water splashing and sloshing, realizing she'd been touching herself and how wrong is that, thinking about what they'd done up against a wall, thinking about things that she and Lelouch were doing (even better worse, about the things they could have done, had she not stopped them)-- not Suzaku, not C.C., but Lelouch, who loves Shirley and.
And who loves her, and that is just even more confusing, more damning for both of them, maybe.
Yet -there's always a yet, always something else because nothing is ever, ever in black and white anymore, no matter how much she wants it to be- she's still worked up, still wound up and all it took was a few barely there touches to remind her of how Lelouch's hand felt and... it couldn't hurt, right? Never mind the fact she hadn't...ever really done this on her own. Never mind that it's wrongwrongwrong that she's touching herself while thinking of Lelouch and being pressed against a wall, one hand pinned back- never mind that all it takes is a few moments of rubbing quick, firm little circles against her clit and slipping one finger inside herself before she comes, embarrassingly hard for so little work, a short cry escaping before she can muffle it.
It takes a moment for her to get up, but when she does, she drains the bath and showers quickly, padding back downstairs after sliding into a pair of pajamas, and a robe, trying to will away the blush she is sure is on her cheeks.
"Did you slip in the shower?" C.C. asks, tone absolutely wicked like she knows what that short, abrupt cry was, and Euphemia nearly trips on her way to sit on the couch, leaving her to grope and recover and curl up in the corner. "It must have been terribly hot water for there to have been so much steam for you to trip. Would you like me to talk to Mikogami to see about someone fixing the knobs for the shower, it-"
"N-No!" Euphemia manages, and tugs the robe up to her chin, legs curled against her chest. "I just. Spent too long in the shower. I'm fine."
It is possible, she realizes, to be even more mortified than she had felt a half hour ago, and makes every effort to melt into the couch and not look at either of them.