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Closer Enemies	By : lissatyger Category: +A through F > Fire Emblem (all) > Fire Emblem (all) Views: 3462 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Closer
Enemies, part 2

Author:
Moontyger

Archived: On my
LJ and the LJ fe_yaoi community. Ask before archiving
elsewhere
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance
Pairing:
Stefan/Ike/Soren
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: fluff, angst, non-con,
Stefan continues being evil.

Disclaimer: I
own neither Fire Emblem nor these characters, for which they are
probably grateful.

Ike was furious. Beyond furious: enraged. “How dare he even
touch you? Much less make such an indecent suggestion!”
His knuckles were white with the tightness of his grip on the hilt
of his sword as he raged, looking for something, anything, he could
break to vent some of the anger he was shaking with. He found
nothing and it made him even more frustrated. Under other
circumstances, the sight of Ike stomping about his tent wearing
nothing but a pair of pants and his sword might have been funny, but
right now neither of them saw any humor in it.

“Ike.” The fear in Soren's voice stopped him instantly.
His anger wasn't what was most important. And he never wanted Soren
to be afraid of him!

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His gaze
examined him mercilessly, despite Soren's squirming and blushing at
the force of his stare. He frowned at the darkened finger-marks on
his upper arm. “Did he do that?”

“Y-yes,” he admitted, looking away, anywhere but at his
angry lover. “But it's not important!” he insisted,
speaking quickly, before Ike could rush off to teach Stefan a lesson
about hurting the man he loved.

He put down his sword before he could change his mind and crawled
back into bed, holding him gently, even though he wanted to crush him
to him fiercely. Surely gentleness was best now, so he tried,
although he feared he wasn't too successful. He was just too upset,
too angry and threatened and afraid, to be gentle! Maybe his kiss
was hotter, fiercer than usual, but Soren didn't protest, even seemed
comforted by it.

“I'll do my best to cleanse you, make you forget the feel of
him touching you,” he promised. It wasn't a solution and they
both knew it, but for now it was reassuring. At least he hoped Soren
would find it reassuring.

Ike turned his attention to giving Soren the most pleasure he could,
delighting in the way he moaned his name and clutched at him,
whimpering with desire. Maybe their love-making this time had an
overtone of fear and desperation, but they both needed it too much
for it to be any other way. And for a time, it was enough.

Afterwards, though, he couldn't forget. He might have been able to
divert it into lust for a time, but he was still angry. “I'll
kill him, “ he muttered under his breath, pressing Soren to him
tightly, possessively. He wasn't a murderer; he had never killed
like this before, when it wasn't a matter of warfare. But there was
always a first time and this certainly felt like reason enough!

“You can't, Ike.” Soren's eyes begged him for
understanding. “I really wish you could. I wish I could!
But you can't. It's murder and even a general doesn't have that
right. At most, you would be expected to bring the matter to
Princess Elincia to ask her for justice.”

Ike kissed him, loving him even more as he heard him tell him things
he didn't want to hear. “Even now, you are still my advisor:
seeing things clearly that I cannot. How did anyone ever doubt you?”

Soren blushed at the compliment. “I just try to do what's
best for you. Even if it isn't what either of us truly wants.”

Ike frowned, thinking. “I could throw him out of the
company,” he suggested. “I don't have to answer to
anyone for that!”

“You don't. But he will have no reason not to tell then, and
your action will have given his words more credence. How else could
you explain your reasoning?” His tone was dull, resigned. He
clearly didn't want to say this; had no desire to do this, but felt
he had no choice. “I wish I saw a way out of this.”

“There has to be one!” He didn't want to admit they
were trapped. He didn't want to have to do this! “I love you
and I don't want you to have to do this, Soren!”

“I don't want to do it, either. I don't want him to touch me
again! But as long as you're there, I'll bear it. And it's only one
night. I'll be okay. I promise.” His eyes were deliberately
wide to hold back tears and Ike winced at the pain in them.

He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince, but it hurt
to hear him try to be brave about it for his sake. He squeezed his
hand reassuringly. He would protect him as best he could, get him
through this as best he could, but he hated that he couldn't stop it
altogether. “I won't make you go alone. You won't ever be
alone with him and you won't have to see him again before or after.
He can't just do anything he wants, either. I'll make sure of it.”

* * *

When he saw Stefan the next day, Ike was still angry. The mere
sight of him made him want to grab him by the throat and start
squeezing. His hand went to his sword and stayed there. He didn't
think he could remove it if he tried; he was having enough trouble
not drawing it.

Stefan seemed to realize he was in danger. He nearly took a step
back, but stopped himself before he did, frowning a little, probably
at having shown weakness. Then he looked up and met Ike's angry blue
eyes boldly. “You wanted to see me?” he asked with a
cocky grin.

“You know damn well why I want to see you, you blackmailing
lowlife!” Ike hissed back. He would have shouted, but he knew
he had to keep his voice down. He would not let Soren be
embarrassed by anyone else hearing about
this. “You decided to treat my boyfriend like a whore. He
isn't for sale!”

Stefan crossed his arms and leered at him insolently. “So
you're refusing? Are you really prepared to face the consequences?”

Ike gritted his teeth and mentally repeated “you can't kill
him” like a mantra, until he could finally speak. “No.
We'll do it. I don't like it, but it is Soren's decision. But you'd
better watch yourself, or I will forget I can't kill you and not
remember until it is far too late, at least for you.”

Stefan smirked at him and he longed to wipe it off his face by
force. “Fine with me. When?”

“Two nights from now. We'll come to your tent after dark. I
will arrange to make sure no one overhears.” He had wanted to
have it in his tent, someplace he felt in control, but he also
recognized the wisdom of Soren's desire not to taint the place that
was just for them, the first place they had made love. It should
remain a place of happy memories and love, not trauma. They were
giving Stefan too much as it was; he wasn't willing to let it haunt
them any more than it had to.

“Very well. Anything else?”

How could he sound so relaxed, as though he did this sort of
thing every day? It just made Ike angrier. Did this really mean
nothing? If so, why was he willing to go so far for it? He didn't
understand it, didn't really want to understand unless it gave him a
way to prevent it. “I don't want to see you anywhere near
Soren either before or after. This is a one-time thing. I won't
permit it again!”

“Understood.
I'll be waiting.” The soft words sent chills down Ike's
spine. Were they really going to do this? Was he really going to
let this man put his hands on the man he loved, especially when he
knew Soren didn't want it? It was Soren's decision, but he wasn't
sure he would be able to bear it. If it were up to
him, he would kill him now and damn the consequences.

For Soren's sake, though, he will try.
Try and somehow make what can only be rape do as little damage as
possible. He trembled with the effort of turning his back on this
man who seemed a smirking demon to him and walking away.

* * *

He didn't want the appointed night to ever arrive. He hoped for an
attack, a sudden case of dysentery, anything to prevent Stefan from
collecting the price for his silence, a price that seemed higher
every hour. Every move he made to ensure their privacy pained him.
He wanted to ask for advice, plead for intervention, but there was no
one he could trust. Not for this. He had never felt so alone and so
trapped.

That night, they were both too nervous to eat. Soren spent the time
before they left huddled in Ike's arms, shaking. He stroked his hair
and cuddled him, swore he loved him again and again. He promised it
was okay if he didn't want to go; they'd survive Stefan's sabotage
together. He didn't really know what to say, how to make this okay,
but he tried. If by any word or deed he could give Soren comfort and
reassurance, he would do it.

At last Soren met his eyes and he fell silent before the weight of
that gaze. “It's time,” he said simply.

Ike kissed him one last time, passionately, desperately, trying to
convey the love that was too big to put into words. Soren clung to
him and he knew neither of them wanted to stop. But they did, far
too soon, and they left his tent hand-in-hand, both afraid and angry
but glad they didn't have to face this alone.

Soren was so afraid he was amazed he could still walk. Only Ike's
hand in his kept him moving, kept him from collapsing in terror and
self-loathing. How could he ever have promised this? Could
anything really be worse? How would he be able to stand to let
someone besides Ike touch him?

He sneaked a glance up at Ike; noticed how set his profile was. He
was dreading this, too. Even now, he could change his mind. A part
of him wanted to. But he had feared rejection his whole life; he
didn't want to see his fears realized. He had to do this. He was
strong enough to do this. He hoped.

He stared at the tent as though it were a death sentence. He felt
ready to pass out from fear. Soren realized he had stopped, but he
couldn't seem to make himself take the next step. His feet refused
to move; he could scarcely breathe. He couldn't do this!

Ike squeezed his hand and his paralysis was broken. He took a deep
breath and shoved the tent flap aside. Nothing had changed; he still
had to do this, even though he almost turned and ran from the hungry
look on Stefan's face.

“I wasn't sure you were going to show. I'm glad to see you
are a man of your word.” He took Soren's free hand, ignoring
Ike completely. It took all Soren's strength not to snatch it back.
He felt so much dread at that touch that everything around him seemed
distant and he felt as if he were floating.

“Shh, don't look like that.” Stefan sounded
surprisingly gentle and it confused him. What did he think this was?
“Sit down. Here, drink some water, you look ready to faint.”

Soren sat and was glad of it, as he had felt his knees were ready to
give out at any moment. He took the water and stared at it in
puzzlement. This was surreal. Why was Stefan being nice to him
suddenly? Did he really think it could make up for what he planned
to do?

Ike sat, too, nearly on top of Soren. He could feel the heat of his
body next to him and it made him feel safer. He leaned against him
as unobtrusively as possible. He was
confused and frightened, but not alone. Ike would protect him. He
drank some of the water to give himself time to think.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Stefan said, still in that
gentle tone, as though he were soothing a skittish wild animal.

“Damn right you're not going to hurt him!” Ike said.
His hand caressed Soren's back, trying to help him relax. “I'll
kill you if you hurt him and damn the consequences!”

“That,” Stefan said sternly, giving Ike a glare, “is
hardly a comment that is going to set the right mood.”

“I don't care about your mood! We are here under duress, so
I don't give a damn about your enjoyment. If you have changed
your mind, we will leave. Someday I might even forgive you for
putting Soren through this.”

Ike's voice dripped barely-controlled rage. In contrast, Stefan's
voice sound urbane, amused, as though they were trading pleasantries
in a court somewhere. It was out of place and absurd. Soren
wondered if he were dreaming.

“I, on the other hand,” Stefan said, “care very
much about whether Soren, at least, enjoys this. And he wanted you
here, for some reason, so you might as well be useful. Stop
threatening me and hold him.”

“What?” Ike sounded nearly as confused as Soren felt.
Did Stefan really think he would enjoy this? Oh, he liked sex with
Ike well enough (better than well enough, if he were honest), but
this would be different and wasn't something he would have freely
chosen. Couldn't Stefan see that that changed everything?

“Hold him,” Stefan repeated impatiently. “Turn
him so his back is against your chest and put your arms around him.
Soren seems to find your presence reassuring, so try to help him
relax!”

Soren could sense that Ike was still confused, but it wasn't a
request he objected to, so he complied. He did feel safer like this,
protected in the cradle of Ike's arms, and he relaxed a bit in spite
of himself, sighing softly and closing his eyes. Like this, he could
pretend this was normal, just the two of them, cuddling after a
particularly stressful day.

Stefan's voice broke the illusion. “That's better.” He
sat on the bed near them and Soren felt hands on his hair, his face,
stroking softly. “You don't need to be afraid,” he
whispered, and kissed Soren gently, then again more deeply.

He could feel Ike tense behind him, but he didn't stop it. They had
agreed to this, however much he hated letting anyone else touch
Soren. And Soren knew he hated it; could feel his hatred of it in
every tense muscle against his back, in the arms that were holding
him almost too tightly now, seeking to take as well as give
reassurance.

He couldn't relax anymore; it was too real and he couldn't pretend
it was Ike touching him. He almost regretted
having him here, because it kept him present; as long as Ike was
here, he couldn't retreat inside his mind and stop feeling. But he
needed him here, too. He wasn't sure he could make it though this
alone.

He couldn't seem to stop trembling. He didn't pull away, didn't
protest, but he couldn't stop shaking. Stefan didn't seem to notice,
or if he did, he didn't mind. His hands were still gentle,
caressing, but it didn't make it any better.

“Do you mind if we take your hair down, Soren?” he
asked, and waited for Soren to open his eyes, to meet a gaze that was
openly lustful. Soren repressed a shudder. How could he want this?
Didn't he see that his desire wasn't returned?

“It's... okay,” he said at last. With his hair down, he
could hide behind it. Ike took it down for him and this, too, was
familiar. Almost safe, but not quite. This whole experience felt
wrong.

Stefan ran his hands through his hair, nearly purring in pleasure,
then kissed Soren again. His mouth was hot and he could feel how
much he wanted this, but all Soren felt was fear. Fear and the
willpower he used to let it happen, to not fight back. Trust that
Ike would protect him if he needed it.

Strange hands stroked him through his robes and he tensed,
whimpering. He wanted to tell him to stop, but he had given his
word. He wouldn't break it, but it was so very hard not to!

“You can touch him, too, Ike,” Stefan said. Soren was
surprised. He hadn't expected this. Why would Stefan allow it? “He
wanted you here and he must enjoy your touch. Help me give Soren
pleasure.”

Ike hesitated. “Are you okay with this?” he asked in a
low voice.

Soren didn't hesitate. “Yes, please, Ike. Touch me,”
he answered, knowing his voice was shaking, too, and not caring. If
Ike were touching him, too, maybe it would be all right. Maybe he
would be able to forget what was really going on. Now that the idea
had been suggested, he was desperate for his touch. Desire mixed
with the fear and he was ashamed of it, but couldn't stop the
feeling.

Ike's kiss was fierce, possessive. Soren loved it. He needed this,
needed to feel that Ike still wanted him, wasn't disgusted. He
almost forgot about their audience and moaned softly when the kiss
ended.

“I'm here,” Ike whispered, so softly Soren barely heard
it. “I won't leave you.” He nibbled his earlobe and it
felt good enough that he managed not to jump when he felt another
mouth on his other ear. Hands and mouths wandered his body and he
kept his eyes closed, tried not to think about it. They had the same
calluses, the same strength: without sight, he couldn't easily tell
the difference. Or so he told himself.

He didn't resist when someone removed his robes, but he didn't look
to see who it was either. He doubted it was Ike; he didn't think he
would do it willingly, not in these circumstances. But the doubt was
still better than certain knowledge.

“That's much better,” Stefan purred and a hand (it must
be his hand, at the moment) stroked Soren's erection slowly.
Soren blushed and whimpered with shame. How could he be aroused,
here, with him? It made him feel dirty. “You really do desire
him, don't you? Maybe it is good for me that he is here after all.”

Ike and Stefan were on either side of him, but he still refused to
look, to admit he knew which was which, even if he really did know.
Both men in bed with him turned their attention to pleasuring him and
Soren couldn't help moaning. In some ways it was terrible and he
didn't want this, but it felt good and one of them was the man
he loved. The man he hoped would still love him after this was all
over.

His fear seemed to make it more intense and he knew he would come
soon. He didn't want to, but didn't think he could stop it, either.
What would he prove if he could, after all? He came hard in
someone's mouth with a cry he tried to stifle behind his hand.

“Yes, much better indeed,” Stefan said softly. Soren
refused to let the voice tell him where he was. Hands caressed his
still-sensitive nipples and he moaned helplessly. It was far too
late to stop it now; he had to see it through to the end. “You
have such a sensitive body and you're beautiful when you come,”
he whispered and Soren cringed. It felt entirely different from when
Ike said much the same thing. He didn't want Stefan thinking these
things about him, knowing these things. He hadn't really realized he
would be giving him something so intimate, so personal.

“You two look so pretty together, too,” he continued and
it was even worse. Soren hadn't meant to let him see what they were
like together; hadn't thought about it when he wanted Ike here. He
wondered if he'd ever be able to be in bed with Ike again without
remembering this and wondering if Stefan were remembering it, too.
He hoped so. He didn't want this to destroy their sex life, too!

“Will you let me go farther than this? Will you let me have
sex with him?” Soren realized Stefan was asking Ike, and it
felt strange. Hadn't they already agreed to this? And shouldn't he
be asking Soren for permission, if he were going to ask? Ike was his
lover, not his keeper.

“If you are careful and don't hurt him. And if Soren agrees.”
Ike caressed him as he answered in a low voice, as though Soren were
asleep and he didn't want to wake him.

He was glad that Ike made his permission a condition until he
realized he would have to speak, to give a consent he didn't feel.
“I... I suppose I already gave permission when we agreed to
this,” he said in a voice that was barely audible. He wanted
to say no, to demand that Stefan let them leave, but he didn't expect
that much mercy.

“So you did. It makes thing much easier that you stand by
your word. I didn't want to have to insist.” Stefan's voice
was still gentle, but he could hear the steel under the surface. He
knew then that he had been right and he wasn't going to let them go.
This was his price and he would make them pay it in full.

He kept his eyes closed, but he knew who was touching him this time.
He knew he needed to relax, but he just couldn't do it. How could
he not be tense in these circumstances, being touched by someone who
frightened him?

“I think,” Stefan said at last, “that I am going
to need your help on this, Ike. If I can't get him to relax, this is
going to hurt, whether I want it to or not.”

Ike's hesitation was longer this time. Soren knew that he didn't
want to help, didn't want to be complicit in this at all.

“You said you didn't want me to hurt him,” Stefan
reminded him impatiently.

“Okay, I'll try to help,” Ike agreed. “But I
don't know what you expected; of course he is tense!”

Soren can hear the anger and guilt in his voice and wishes he could
tell him that it was all right. But it wasn't; how could it be? And
he can't lie to him, not now, not about this.

“Forgive me,” Ike whispered. Soren felt horribly guilty
for putting him through this. He should have done this alone,
however much it would have hurt, rather than dragging Ike into it.
He had been selfish. Ike would probably never blame him for it, but
he blamed himself.
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Closer Enemies