Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. It wasn't so much the amount of conversation that had changed, but the feel of it. The easy silences that they'd shared on other mornings were muted, touched with an odd taste of uneasiness. They'd eaten and cleaned up in silence and all that was left for Cye was to make that trek down to the beach.
He dawdled instead, going back up to his room and making sure everything was perfectly straightened, as close as he could manage to the condition it all was in when they first arrived. His attention was drawn again and again to the small padded box on the dresser: the box that contained his armor orb. Cye finally sighed and went over to it, touching the carved wood gently. In his time here, wherever they were, he'd used it more than he had since the end of the war. With little to fill the days, he'd spent hours in the ocean exploring, until the sameness of everywhere he swam became depressing.
He opened the box, pulling free the translucent sphere, captured for a moment by the bright flicker inside. Cye's hand closed around it tight, he had to do this. He *had* to get back. There were people worried about him, and, if he'd read those young men in the alley right, people who worried about Aya. No matter how appealing the thought of staying was, no matter what a heaven this place had become, the real world was waiting and it was time to go back.
He stripped to the skin and called his subarmor; no sense in destroying his clothes. A soft flare and he was covered in the light blue and white again. It was safe enough to do just that much inside and he'd no intention of calling Torrent until well out of sight. He looked at his metal-covered fingers briefly, thinking that at least he'd not have the temptation of Aya's skin before he went… and was struck by a memory. A small marzipan candy, held delicately in that white metal, being fed to Aya...
He shook his head, shoving the memory back. They had to go back, had to be with their friends again. The ache that filled Cye when he thought about the other Ronins hadn't diminished. He still wanted desperately to see them, to feel the colored strands of their minds filling the empty places inside. He just wanted Aya, too.
And puttering about isn't going to make him any happier, Cye thought as he left the room, heading down the stairs. The swordsman was bothered by something this morning, he was certain. The stillness last night, the deeper quiet this morning, the odd look that Cye had caught as he'd headed upstairs, small things but signs that were so easy for him to read now.
He met Aya by the kitchen door and sighed inside to see that he was dressed in head to toe long-sleeved black again. It was always a clear indication of how much closeness Aya would allow on any given day. Short-sleeved black meant that touching was all right, colors meant that Cye could venture more. The varying degrees of coveredness spoke volumes. Aya could say so much without ever speaking a word... Cye had learned to read his silences so well.
They went outside, heading down the path to the beach, still silent. Now and then on the way, Cye's hand twitched towards Aya then stilled.
They reached the beach in silence, walking all the way down to the breakers and Cye turned towards the redhead. "Well," he said slowly, "This should be fairly straightforward. I'll probably be gone for a few hours and should have answers when I get back..."
Aya just looked at him for a long moment then seemed to have a moment of resolution. He leaned forward deliberately and brushed a small kiss over Cye's lips. Ignoring Cye's surprised he pulled back and spun on his heel, going back to the house and presumably the garden.
Cye stood there, almost shocked. Then, with nothing more productive to do than standing in ankle-deep waves, he waded into the surf. Still, his mind was spinning. In the short time they'd been together, Aya had never initiated an intimate contact. Leaning when they sat together, or an embrace in his sleep was usually the extent of it. He walked forward until the water reached his ribs and dove forward, sliding through the cool water. There'd be time when he got back to ask questions...
~*~*~*~
Somewhat less than an hour after leaving a surprised Cye on the beach, Aya was jolted out of his work in the garden by the great loud sound and shivering of the ground.
He hadn't gotten a thing done in the last thirty or forty minutes since leaving the beach. Everything was so quiet when it was just Aya, alone. No sounds of humming or music or any of the other things Cye usually did reached his ears. There were no calls to make sure he didn't need anything, no auburn head poking out of a window just to smile at him. All these things that had so often seemed like an annoyance when Aya wanted to be alone, now pulled at him in their absence.
Back and back again came the thought that those things would not happen again. Aya had already had his last glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade in the warm sun, his final gentle kiss before bedtime. These things that Cye gave so freely, which Aya had never thought he would have liked... or come to rely on.
But affection and warmth was a way of life for Cye, as much as distance and silence was a way of life for Aya. They had come to an accord on it somehow, meeting in the middle where they could both be comfortable. Aya had hardly felt it happening until the easy silences and small conversations had become commonplace.
Now, Aya knew as he tried for the fifth time to begin weeding without drifting off into daydreams, now it was at an end. Cye was certain he could contact his friends, and when Cye was determined about something, it generally got done. Soon they would be going back. These thoughts prodded at his mind until he could do nothing but sit in the garden and be assaulted by them.
Then the muffled boom sounded, rattling the windows in the house and shuddering the leaves of the plants all around him. It shook the very ground, sending a tremor vibrating up Aya's spine. As soon as he was able, Aya leapt to his feet.
It had come from beyond the front of the house, from a short distance... the beach!
Aya tore through the garden and out of the yard, his heart pounding. All this time alone, safe, all this time with nothing to harm either of them, and now when they were ready to leave... had something happened? What had happened to Cye? His stomach plummeted with the very thought that Cye might be hurt.
He sped down the hill to where the sand met the long grasses, stumbling when the ground softened and changed to sand. How he was going to help was beyond him. All he could think about was getting to the water, to the place he had last seen Cye standing. Whatever happened after that was a mystery. It didn't matter anyway. He just had to get there and the future would take care of itself.
Aya had barely reached the wet sand when out of the water came the incongruous color of auburn hair, followed by the light blue and white armored body that had slipped beneath the waves less than an hour before. For a sickening instant, Cye didn't seem to be moving. Terror swept through Aya's blood and seized his muscles, throwing him to the sand to his knees. In the space of one breath he felt the pain again of watching an unmoving form, the fear of being left alone and left behind... a rainy night from years ago echoing in his mind.
He would be alone again. He would be tossed alone on the shore and this time there was no Kritiker to pick up the pieces for him. This time his sword could not save him, this time he would have no quest of vengeance. This time he would only be alone and lonely, with a few, too few, memories of Cye to haunt him.
Aya could barely see through shocked eyes, when the auburn head lifted, and the armor-plated hands drug the rest of Cye up onto the shore. He was battered and gasping for breath, looking dazed, but alive. Aya staggered up off his knees, only to stumble a few steps and fall again. Cye reached up, grasping his hands in his armored ones, and together they managed to pull the exhausted boy fully onto shore, on his back so he could catch his breath.
Cye just lay there for a moment, trying to breathe. Awareness of the arms holding him filtered through slowly and he blinked up into violet eyes. He blinked again, with a queer little expression as if he’d seen something familiar in an unfamiliar world. For a moment, Aya wondered just what kind of damage might have been inflicted on the boy. Cye shook his head then, wincing at the dull pain it provoked and decided to say still. With a voice gone unusually harsh, he croaked, "It didn't work."
Aya propped him up a little, still supporting. "I got out to where I wanted," Cye said slowly, "And called the full armor. I was going to start reaching and drifted too far under a shelf, I think." He blinked again, trying to clear his head. "There was a small quake, I think... Something shuddered and most of the shelf fell on me. I had to blast my way out..." He shivered and barked a brief laugh. "Of all the absurd ways to go... smashed by a bunch of rocks..."
Despite the blue and white armor covering nearly every inch of Cye’s skin, Aya began to press here and there and check him for injuries. Discretely he ran his hands through Cye’s hair to search for possible bumps, fighting the overwhelming urge to sweep the armor-clad boy into his arms. "You don't need to do that," Cye started arguing, sitting a bit more upright. "I'm just a bit banged up, I think. Give me a hand back to the house and a soak? I'm not sure how long I can hold the armor and I'd feel better being indoors when it gives out. Naked, you know."
As if modesty were ever an issue with Cye! Still, this was something Aya could do, rather than sit mutely and try not to squeeze the breath right out of him. He nodded, shifting to get his feet under him, and slid one arm under Cye’s shoulders and the other under his knees. Though it earned him a sudden sputtering protest, he lifted Cye right up off the ground and into his arms. The armor made him heavier than Aya thought he would be, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.
True to Cye’s prediction, as soon as they had stepped into the house, the heavy armor dissolved in a weak flare of sea-pure aqua light. Aya was left carrying a quite naked and somewhat grumbly Cye up the stairs to the bathroom. "This is embarrassing," his charge muttered, starting to turn a dull pink even as Aya’s hands curled around his bare skin. "I’m quite capable of walking, you know."
Never one to respond to an inquiry or statement to which the answer was obvious, Aya kept silent. He stayed silent until they reached the bathroom, not trusting his voice. Something was building in his throat, something like fear, something like horror, tasting like concern. If, if, if. The little word ran around and around in his mind. If... If... If...
He sat on the edge of the tub, setting Cye in his lap while he started the warm water. His companion was saying something but Aya barely registered the soft, questioning words. Probably asking if he was all right - that was like Cye, to be concerned about Aya’s well-being before his own. He nodded. Cye touched his chin and tilted it up to look at him, those gemstone eyes the same colors as his armor, gone soft.
"Hush," Aya told him finally, his voice struggling around the choking feeling in his throat. "Hush. Are you all right?"
Cye looked at him for a long moment before speaking, keeping up the ceaseless eye contact. "I will be." Aya hadn’t realized they were nearly whispering until then. He sucked on his lower lip a bit, unable to say anything more.
The tub was soon full and Aya carefully deposited Cye into the water, despite his squirming and quiet protests that all of this wasn’t necessary, really. Aya knelt next to the bathtub, looking Cye over even though the boy frowned and tried to distract his attention. No bruises, the armor seemed to have done its job. That was some small relief, a relaxation that loosened Aya’s throat enough to speak.
"Let me," he murmured, his eyes falling somewhere on Cye’s stomach but not traveling any lower. "You are sore and shaken up. Relax. Let me." Aya shifted his attention upward to Cye’s face just in time to catch the sort of drowsy relaxation and droop that the sound of Aya’s voice seemed to cause.
Cye half-closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Aya folded his arms on the side of the tub and watched him, silent for a while. "This is not easy for you," he observed after a short time.
That seemed to start Cye out of his half-nap. Aya so rarely broke the silences between them that this was something rather unexpected. "What isn’t?"
"Letting someone take care of you. Allowing someone else to be responsible for what happens," he murmured, pushing up the ends of his long sleeves. Reaching for the bar of soap, Aya dipped his hands in the water and began to work up a thick lather.
"It just isn’t necessary," Cye argued with a sigh. "I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You don’t have to..."
Cye’s protesting drifted off into a soft gasp, as Aya began to run his sudsy hands up and down the boy’s chest. Glittering bubbles followed in the wake of his fingers, the bar of soap used liberally to create more suds. Aya worked up and down his chest, to his collarbone and down his arms, using nothing but his hands to lather and wash. He had never touched so much of Cye’s skin outside the bedroom before. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he spoke again in a quiet voice.
"You take care of your friends. You know everything about them and see to all of their comforts. That favor deserves to be returned."
"But that’s... mmmm." Cye’s eyes were slowly closing, bronze lashes drifting toward creamy cheeks. "That’s different. That’s what I do to show that I care..."
Aya’s hands stilled. Cye looked up at him blearily, blinking until his eyes focused.
For the space of three heartbeats they shared that gaze, before the understanding of what Aya could not say materialized between them. He hadn’t known until then what that feeling in the back of his throat had been, what that twisting in the pit of his stomach this morning had been. It was still a half-formed thing, but it rose in Aya’s chest when its name was called.
"Then how," Aya whispered, "is this different?"
~*~*~*~
Cye just stared for a moment, stunned. Aya had never breathed a word of such a thing before, not before they started sharing a bed, not after. He knew Aya liked him, of course, and they liked spending time together but this...
Aya was looking at him in the oddest way, with much the same expression as he'd had down on the beach. Where had he seen that look before?
The marzipan. That faintly quivery, largely stunned, and generally bewildered look that he'd been giving the candy tin on the first day was the same look he wore now. That expression he'd worn when handling the only thing in this entire house that seemed familiar or comforting to him... now painted his face when he looked at Cye.
Meeting that violet gaze just then sparked something in himself, a wordless feeling that had been floating for some time now.
And he found the words tumbling out before he could stop them, "Aya... I, I think...I'm in lo... mmphff!"
Aya, for some reason, had clapped a soapy hand over his mouth. The look was gone now, his eyes lowered, his face concealed by a short curtain of red.
"You must not say that," he said quietly, pulling his hand back.
Cye scrubbed the soap off his face, utterly baffled. "But... but why not? I thought..."
Aya had turned his face away, as if the very thing that had caused him to soften that hard exterior for even a moment had suddenly become too painful to look at. Very soft came the low voice from heartbreakingly perfect pale pink lips which barely moved as he spoke.
"I... I am not a man who deserves that from anyone."
Cye's eyes widened and he couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open. "Aya... that's, that's awful! You can't believe that!" Further protests were cut off as Aya looked up again and the feeling that spiked through Cye as violet eyes met his almost made him gasp. Pain, guilt, those wisps of feeling that had drawn him to Aya all that time ago in the club, suddenly resolved. Hurt and despair, that made his own heart ache and want to draw Aya close and do anything to make it right...
"You must not say that," Aya repeated quietly and Cye knew that no protest he could make could possibly change his mind.
"I won't." He said softly, trying to ignore the ache. At least not right now, he thought. They weren't getting any closer to getting home. There was time. And he let Aya help him out of the water and was still to be dried, knowing that the redhead needed to know that it was alright, that the things he said weren't taken as a rejection. And as those hands dried him carefully, Cye noticed something else, something slowly taking the place of the pain Aya didn't even know he was sharing...
Need. Want. Starting as a slow burn in his stomach, spreading outward. That same burn that had overtaken the Ronins when they'd come a little too close to death, that made them find a place of safety and *prove* to each other and themselves that they still lived. He pulled Aya to him then, grinding his mouth against the paler boy, tongue demanding entrance, forgetting for the moment that he'd promised himself that he wouldn't truly claim the rose until Aya was ready.
The soft, argumentative sounds rising in Aya’s throat were caught somewhere between surprise and discomfort. Cye could still feel the traces of shame and pain that the other boy had been radiating a moment before, and could feel Aya still dragged down by those feelings.
Bringing his hands up, Aya pushed very lightly against Cye’s bare chest, the towel that he was holding falling to the floor and leaving no barrier between them. That brief moment of struggle, that tiny spark of fight brought the slow burn of want to a sudden, roaring blaze of need.
Cye wrapped his arms around the redhead tight, trapping his hands. His mouth blazed a trail from Aya's mouth to his neck, biting and sucking. He stopped at one pink ear, whispering harshly, "Want you, kitten. Aching for you. Let me, luv, let me and I'll make you scream..."
A gasping arch into his arms was the only response but it was enough. Aya was lowered gently to floor. Cye knew he was going to end up with tile-bruised knees but he couldn't have cared in the slightest. The walk to a bedroom was too long. He stopped for just a moment to look, look at the flushed, panting, beautiful boy in front of him and just couldn't stand waiting. Shirt, pants and underwear were yanked off and he heard at least one button pop. He leaned over, capturing Aya's lips again in another searing kiss, feeling the redhead tremble.
"Beautiful," he murmured, moving down again, lapping at a nipple then latching on and suctioning hard. The sharp cry and arch just made him ache more. Normally, Cye was willing to indulge in hours of foreplay, taking as long as he liked to drive a partner mad. This was not one of those times.
Abandoning the heaving chest he skimmed lower, leaving sharp nips here and there on pale skin. Aya was writhing by now, biting down on his lip to muffle the moans, twitching his almost painful looking erection upwards. Far be it from Cye to ignore a plea. He sank his mouth down over heated skin, taking him down completely. He locked his hands over Aya's hips, pinning him, taking him fast. He kept on, suctioning hard until the moans became almost frantic and he tasted the precome in streams. He wrenched himself back then, lying down and tossing Aya's legs over his shoulders. Make him scream...
A shriek erupted as he drove his tongue forward, the loudest noise he'd ever wrung from the silent swordsman. Over and over, stabbing the point of his tongue in as far as he could, listening to the almost painful moans, holding Aya tight so the thrashing wouldn't dislodge him. *This* was what he wanted, wanted so badly that his groin actually hurt. No reserve, no inhibitions, just driving his Aya absolutely wild.
And as soon as Aya's hand crept down, desperate for relief, Cye pulled back, pushing his hand away. "None of that, kitten..." he purred, groping along the edge of the tub. A moment found the container he'd been looking for amid the others of soap and bath oil. One leg was slung up again and he pressed warm, slick fingers against trembling skin. He rubbed and stretched as carefully as always, catching Aya’s cry in his mouth as his fingers found the soft nub inside. He slathered more along himself, getting as slippery as possible and settled between Aya's legs.
And felt as well as heard the shivering gasp as he slid inside.
A moment to adjust and he started thrusting in earnest, pinning his redhead to the floor. He was drowning in the other body, feeling every clench and groan. For a brief second he was afraid it was too much, that he was hurting the other boy until Aya wrapped his arms and legs around him, clutching tight.
"Oh Aya," he breathed, rocking harder, "So good... hot and tight for me. Sweetheart, I'm going to fuck you into the floor."
It was pure music, the sweet moans Aya was making as he tossed his head back and forth, trying to deny how good he was feeling. Only minutes had passed since Cye had first assaulted his lover and they were already thrusting against each other on the cool, damp tile floor. Aya was clenched so tight, the floor was hard under his knees, the bathmat slipped under the steady beat of his thrusts... it was nothing like their usual lovemaking.
For a few seconds Aya had fought the roughness, but that sweet struggle quickly succumbed. And Cye watched his rose bloom again, a flush passing over his skin even as his soft lips started whispering more than Cye had ever heard from him.
"Oh yes, harder, faster, morrrrrre..." Aya’s scrambling hands had found his back, lightly clawing in long streaks, returning the harshly pleasurable sensations Cye was giving him. "Nnnnngh, use me... fuck me... Cye..."
Aya had never moaned his name quite like that before.
And Cye was more than willing to oblige.
He shifted, making sure Aya's legs were wrapped around his waist and dropped his hands to the floor. Bracing, he deepened the strokes, every forward thrust shoving Aya against the tile. Another startled gasp and the short blunt nails clawed at his back harder.
"Yessss..." Cye hissed, rocking in deep, hard strokes. "That's it. Touch, love, wrap those fingers around that pretty cock. Want to feel you finish..."
Aya turned a brighter pink at the words but moved his hand down, stroking hesitantly. Cye groaned, watching, and surged forward harder. Between his own attentions and Cye's, it didn't take long before Aya felt the tensing in muscle, the tightening in his balls and threw his head back with another cry.
Cye felt the first bloom of wet against his stomach, the impossibly tight clench around him and fell forward, muffling his own scream in Aya's neck. They lay that way for a little while, panting, trembling, Aya's arms around him again. Cye nuzzled into his next, tasting the salt damp skin. He started to ease himself up slowly and hissed.
"Ow."
Surprisingly, that prompted a tiny, not-quite-smile from the redhead.
"I forgot what a terrible idea doing this on tile is..." He pulled back slowly and sat on the edge of the tub. "When you're ready, let’s get a quick shower and a lie down. I'm of a mind for a nap."
Aya sat up slowly, trying and failing to disguise the wince of stiffness in his back. They would both be sore later, but oh, it had been worth it! Aya looked up at him now from the bathroom floor, as solemn as ever besides the fact that he was bare naked. "You have ruined the purpose of that perfectly serviceable bath I gave you," he intoned seriously.
Was that a joke from the stone-faced swordsman? Right after sex, even, and in the bathroom of all places! Cye blinked at him for a moment then grinned. "Well then, I suppose you'll just have to wash my back in the shower then..."
~*~*~*~
After the promised shower, they were both tucked securely into Cye's bed, both pleasantly exhaused and sore. Cye tucked Aya's chin under his head, holding him securely. He waited until Aya's breathing evened and he could feel nothing but a drowsy contentedness. He kissed the top of that red, red hair gently. Someday, he thought, drifting a bit himself. I will tell you someday...
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