Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

If Your God Were Real	By : Mishizu Category: +G through L > Guilty Gear Views: 3413 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Guilty Gear, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: Uh, refer to disclaimer in previous chapter.

Shinigami Yumi

presents

If Your God Were Real

Sometimes destiny is what you make it

Sometimes people just can�t fight it

Someone somewhere is always listening

So always be wary of what you�re saying

Chapter 2: A Moment�s Kindness

�� Swords clashed loudly, emitting showers of red and blue sparks, and the following impact of opposing magical energy sent him and his opponent flying backwards. He sent a Stun Edge at the other man in mid-air, which was easily avoided with a well-timed jump. Boot-shod feet skidded on the sandy ground of the clearing they were duelling in before he dashed forward again. As usual, Sol was obviously not fighting seriously; the disinterested look on his face said it all. The brunet only evaded or parried his attacks with whatever force was necessary and nothing more. It irritated him that the man could be this rude without even trying. Even if victory was certain, he could at least look like he was making an effort; that was the polite thing to do. But no, the American looked plainly bored; he found it downright insulting.

�Needle Spike!!� he shouted as he spun forward to slash at the taller man more ferociously than absolutely necessary in his anger, and resented the way the corners of the other�s mouth curved up almost imperceptibly into a ghost of his trademark smirk. The instant his feet touched the ground again, he was sliding forward in the Stun Dipper.

�I think this has just taken up about enough time today,� he heard Sol murmur as the older man dodged his attack with a lazy leap and somersault to land behind him.

That cocksure, impudent, uncouth, Godless lout�he thought, flipping into a Crescent Slash immediately.

Metal scraped loudly against metal, and more red and blue sparks flew from the violent friction as the Fuuraiken grated against his opponent�s parrying sword. Seeing the trap instantly, he spun mid-flip to knock Sol�s heavier sword to the ground with the blade of his own. Except that he didn�t expect the brunet to simply let the sword fall. He had a moment to realize his mistake before the other�s flaming fist plunged into his stomach. �Volcanic Viper!!� Blackness pleasantly enveloped him.

He found himself blinking up at the sunny blue sky through the dense wispy leaves of the willow he was resting under. The breeze was pleasantly cool and gentle on his skin, and he slid his eyes shut as he sipped at a lukewarm cup of chamomile tea that would soon be downright cold, listening to the relaxing rustle of the grass and leaves around him. Just as he was about to doze off, a somewhat familiar voice called to him.

�Bonjour, Monsieur Kiske,� a young lady with thick and wavy shoulder-length hair somewhere between copper and scarlet greeted warmly as she approached, a basket in her hand. Despite her purely European descent, she had the double eyelids and even skin tone characteristic of an Asian heritage, a fact he remembered often puzzling over. He thought he knew her name� Yes, Arianne Thallassa, better known as the Water Witch, was only three years his senior and one of the highest-ranking officers in the Holy Order, not to mention one of the minute number of women. To maximize the advantage of her powers, she often led the coastline and island patrols.

�Bonjour, Madame Thallassa,� he responded with a smile as he straightened slightly, wincing internally at the soreness in his abdominal muscles at the movement. Sol had done far greater damage to Gears with the same attack and level of ease. He could imagine how infinitesimal a fraction of his full power he had put into that final blow.

�Oh, please, Sir. Etiquette or no, �Madame� makes me feel so old!� Arianne chastised mildly with a laugh. The sunlight danced on the coppery gold of her tanned skin, highlighting her high cheekbones, as the breeze played with her tresses. �Had another fight with Monsieur Badguy?� she guessed, the wink to sparkling teal eyes visible although she stood towering over his sitting form at her full 5�9�.

�Eh?� was the best response he could muster. How did she�

She chortled even more at his reaction, dropping to one knee before him. �You only ever get that look on your face when you�ve lost another fight to him, Sir. It�s a renowned fact throughout the Order,� the water magic master explained, smoothing out the few creases in her sea green and white Order uniform, which had been cut somewhat more fitting than the standard issue ones the men wore.

He turned away, blushing slightly, embarrassed at how infamous his rivalry with the boorish American had grown. He never seemed to make an effort whenever they fought, yet he always won so easily. It was simply infuriating.

�Well, if he wasn�t strong, what would be the point in having him as a rival at all?�

He merely blinked at the response, not realizing that he had complained aloud.

�But, tell me, Sir, why is it so important that you defeat him in a duel?� her mellow alto smoothly formed the question.

�Respect,� he answered automatically. �I�m the Commander. I should��

�No,� she interjected. �With all due respect, Sir, that�s irrelevant.�

�It is?�

�The men wouldn�t think any more or less of you,� she reasoned. Showing him the contents of the basket, she offered, �Cheese tart?�

He nodded and helped himself to one, munching in silence as he gave her query the consideration it deserved.

�It�s personal, isn�t it?� she hazarded after a while, a smile curving full red lips as she tapped a finger to the rim of his teacup playfully.

He paused, before inclining his head slightly. �It infuriates me that the Godless likes of him can just waltz into our Holy Order and treat all the noble and God-fearing Sacred Knights here like lower life forms. That man is blasphemy on legs,� he grumbled grudgingly. �And I hate that I can�t beat him to prove that we�re better than he is.�

Arianne rose to her feet, thoughtfully glancing at her watch. �Or maybe he�s the only person around here who doesn�t simply respect your position, and you want him to acknowledge you for more than just a title,� she murmured. �Well, I must be returning to the airship now, Sir,� she said, louder and clearer. �Bonne journ�e!� she called, turning and hurrying off before he could reply. (Bonne journ�e = Have a nice day)

He watched her loping off towards the airship landing zone contemplatively. Lost in thought, he sipped absently at his forgotten cup of tea. It was steaming.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

The pale rays of the morning sun were filtering in through the gap between the light blue curtains over the window behind him when Ky sat up slowly in bed, white linen sheets around his waist. He gazed thoughtfully at his right hand where it rested on his lap; he could still feel the hilt of the Fuuraiken in his grip. The dream had been so vivid, a dream about his namesake, Commander Kiske�s time in the Holy Order with a certain fire magic master. They sure hadn�t appeared to be on the best of terms.

The sleeve of his pastel blue satin pyjama shirt slid back on the pale skin of his arm as he turned and reached out to widen the gap between the curtains, holding one curtain aside as he looked out on the gray buildings around his apartment block. There were a fair number of edifices in other colours, mostly red and white, but the majority of them were gray. Paris was such a colourful and lovely city. It was a shame that this part of town had so much gray in it, but it was a nice place to live, peaceful and quiet as it was.

Absently, he found himself wondering if he would see that man again. He had awoken just before dawn to find himself with his head still resting on the other�s chest and the brunet having apparently dozed off as well, the Fuuenken giving off slight emissions of heat beside him. The blond hadn�t been certain of how the sword had ended up beside its wielder, since he vaguely recalled the older man leaving it on the memorial in favour of seeking out his pack of cigarettes. Mismatched eyes had immediately flown open as he sat up, a telltale sign that the Commander was so accustomed to being attacked without warning that he could no longer sleep soundly.

�I should go back,� he had begun in a rather reluctant whisper as he climbed carefully to his feet. �Thank you for�for staying with me.�

Muscular shoulders had rolled in a fluid shrug. �I was planning to spend the night here.�

He hadn�t known what to say to that, so he had quietly gathered his things and said a polite goodbye before leaving. Perhaps they would meet again. He hoped it would be soon. He gazed up thoughtfully at the clear blue morning sky. �Sol�� he whispered.

�Oh. So it�s not Commander or Monsieur anymore?� As if on cue, a raspy bass startled him out his reminisces.

He whirled around to find said fire magic master leaning obnoxiously against the wooden doorframe between his bedroom and the living area, both hands balancing his sword on the wooden floorboards and still dressed in the same outfit he had worn the previous day, with an arrogant smirk on his face. That smirk he wore when he knew he was in control, Ky thought absently. His shock was quickly replaced with irritation. �You� Do you make a habit of breaking and entering?� he demanded with a frown, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

�Nice couch,� the brunet remarked, ignoring the question, which only served to further aggravate the blond.

Ky squeezed his eyes shut slowly in an effort to reign in his temper. He was distinctly convinced that it would have given the other immense satisfaction had he really blown up, and he certainly wasn�t about to do so. Thus, he forced himself to calm down with deep breaths, not wanting to make any mistakes with the American. He was far calmer when azure eyes opened to rest on the taller man�s well-built form, even calm enough to smile slightly at the previous comment. �You only think so because you haven�t tried my bed,� he replied.

Back when he had bought the furniture for this studio apartment, comfort had been his top priority. None of the furnishings had actually been expensive, but the chairs were all comfortable enough to sleep in, or at least sit in for long hours without any discomfort. He was rather pleased with his new home.

His self control is pretty good, Sol thought with a smirk, sauntering over to the blond.

The younger man�s eyes widened sharply in alarm as he climbed onto the queen-sized bed, leaning back to put some distance between them as he clambered towards the other, an amused smirk on his face. It soon resulted in him crouching over the willowy blond with one knee between slender legs and hands on either side of slim shoulders, the other now lying flat on the bed once again. It struck him then how very blue the other�s eyes were, and how very much they reminded him of azure orbs he had often looked challengingly into some years before, only these aquamarines had none of the weariness he remembered in the depths of their counterparts.

�W-Wh-What are you DOING?!!� the other nearly shrieked the question as he tried to scoot further back, stuttering in his utter shock and panic, distracting him from his reverie.

He offered the boy a feral grin. �Trying out your bed,� he responded, rolling over to lie beside the blond and noting the flustered blush to pale cheeks with much amusement. �What did you think I was doing?� he teased. He�s proving to be almost as entertaining as his namesake.

Ky immediately slid off the bed at that, trying to calm his pounding heart. He knew he was blushing, and the room suddenly felt very warm. What on earth was that for? It�s like he�s trying to provoke me on purpose� he thought, still very flustered. He remembered the seemingly predatory glint to mismatched eyes and the dark feeling to that fiery aura as the other had crawled towards him on the bed, and repressed a shudder as he made his way towards the wooden cabinet beside the door. Having calmed down sufficiently to trust his voice to speak without a panicked quiver, he finally offered, �Well, since you�re here, I don�t suppose you�d like to join me for breakfast?�

He opened the cabinet to gaze at his reflection on the inside of the door. Thankfully, the blush, at least, had receded. He turned around as the brunet sat up in his bed with a wider smirk than the last. �What do you think I�m here for? Since you decided to rid me of my nicotine supply some hours back, you�re paying for breakfast so I can buy another pack with the cash instead,� the other replied, a look of annoying self-satisfaction on his face.

Ky was suddenly overcome by the puzzling urge to electrocute the living daylights out of the boorish American, but simply turned back to his wardrobe. �I�ll get changed,� he muttered, voice slightly more clipped than usual.

He unbuttoned his satin pyjama top and hesitantly removed it, letting it fall carelessly to the floor for the moment. He could feel the other�s eyes on him, and it was making him terribly uncomfortable. Just as he turned to grab one of his white button-downs, he had to silence a gasp as he felt slightly callused fingers trace a line down his right shoulder. Hearing his heartbeat speed up at the sudden closeness, he swallowed thickly, praying fervently that the other couldn�t sense his discomfiture. He silently berated himself for reacting like some infatuated schoolgirl as he reached for the shirt; it was totally irrational.

�Where did you get this?� the other asked gruffly, more out of curiosity than concern, as he continued to trace the only mar to flawless porcelain skin with his fingertips, a long scar that extended a full six inches straight down from the shoulder. The slightly taller man�s expression reflected in the mirror was unreadable.

�Back in Corsica,� he answered quietly, not presently trusting his voice to speak above a whisper. �There was a minor Gear attack near my high school. As I was running past, a large overhead signboard fell. It just missed me, but the edge of one metal beam gave me that long gash there. I remember it needed a lot of stitches.�

He slid his eyes shut at the memory as the light caress trailed down his collarbone and up his slender throat to his jaw line. The thought that the stronger American could easily snap his neck in two right there and then struck his mind unbidden, but he relaxed into the touch, somehow knowing for sure that the older man would not hurt him despite the inherent violence he could sense in the other. And there it was again, that overwhelming feeling of d�j� vu, that strange desire to lean back against the other man, that mysterious longing to be closer to the American and to know him better. It was probably because of that dream he�d had earlier.

Those fingertips, slightly roughened from years of fighting with a sword, ghosted lightly across his lips, and then abruptly, they were gone. He opened his eyes to see the Commander walking out the door to the living area, apparently lost in thought. Left blinking at the forgotten shirt in his hand, it was a moment before he resumed changing his clothes, shoving the sudden inexplicable sense of loss to the back of his mind.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

�Ride the Lightning!!�

Orbs of lightning encased him in a bubble as he sped through several large Gears, propelled by his magic. The hulking masses toppled to the ground behind him and he leapt out of the way of another Gear�s spiked tail, sending a Stun Edge at the offending creature before darting over to hack off its enormous head while it was still reeling from the electric jolt.

�Fafnir!!�

Some distance behind him, a magically bolstered fiery punch sent a massive Gear toppling into its friends. A crooked smile curved his lips. He never expected there to ever be a day when he would be happy to have that man close by, but he was relieved for the presence of a powerful ally on the battlefield. He violently slashed two nearby Gears in half before performing a Stun Dipper to chop the legs out from under another larger one. That�s when he suddenly spied a medium-sized Gear sneaking up on a certain boorish American out of the corner of his eye.

Oh no� It�s just out of reach, he thought somewhat angrily. As much as he disliked the man, he wasn�t going to let any of his subordinates be killed if he could help it. The Gear he had felled crashed to the ground with a resounding thud as he spun to face the smaller offending monster, reaching into himself for the extra burst of magical energy he would need. �Sacred Edge!!!� He threw a large spearhead-shaped bolt of lightning at the creature, and it fell to the ground immediately, dead.

�� The older man whirled around at the sound, his heavy sword slicing through several more Gears as he did so. Mismatched red and gold eyes met azure ones for the briefest moment before he involuntarily screamed in pain as his knees buckled under the massive weight of a Gear�s hook-like claw settling into his right shoulder. Before he could even move, a fiery projectile sped along the ground and into it.

"Grand Viper!!"

�� Another cry of pain escaped his lips when the claw dragged into his flesh as his assailant fell. He felt blood soaking his uniform; it was a huge gash, and the pain was excruciating. In an instant, Sol was beside him, pulling him up by his left arm. He steeled himself and obliged the other, moving to lean against the brunet�s muscular back slightly for a moment�s respite. He squeezed blue eyes shut fleetingly to clear his vision and opened them, panting. They were alone with their backs to each other amidst oncoming Gears from all directions.

�Watch your own back, boy.�

�A little gratitude goes a long way,� he riposted, lifting his left hand to the Fuuraiken as he prepared to continue fighting.

�Geh,� the other scoffed from behind him. �That�d be like asking you to mind your own damn business for a change.�

He darted forward swiftly to cut down three of the nearest Gears in quick succession before backing into Sol again as several more of the enemy fell, neither needing to turn to check who they had bumped into; each recognized the other�s aura well from innumerable battles with and against each other. Leaning against the other�s back as he staggered slightly from the pain of moving his right arm, he realized bitterly that he wouldn�t last long. He could feel the blood oozing out of the large gash on his shoulder; even if the Gears didn�t manage to kill him, the blood loss would.

�We need to flee. There�s too many,� the slightly raspy bass said from behind him.

He nodded once before realizing that the other couldn�t see him. �Oui. I pray the rest make it out as well.� Their patrol had been ambushed unexpectedly by a large Gear force, and they had been severely outnumbered. It had been a fighting retreat from the start, not to mention a losing battle. Loathe as he was to admit it, he wasn�t expecting many survivors.

�Why do you think so many are here?�

The implications of the older man�s words sunk into him as he rushed forward again, and he hacked down several more Gears with more ferocity than was strictly necessary as the mix of pain, hatred and remorse welled up in him again. There was no the rest; all the other knights were dead. They should have been better prepared. He should have brought a larger team. He should have brought airships as well as land forces on this patrol.

The brunet�s words sliced through his self-blaming thoughts when they had their backs against each other again. �The jungle on your right.�

He could feel himself tiring as he glanced in the direction of the trees. The blood loss was starting to get to him. �It won�t stop them.�

�No, but it�ll slow the larger ones down. To catch us they�ll have to get through the trees, and not many of them are small enough to run through the forest without destroying a significant amount of foliage to clear a wide enough path. It�s our best bet.�

�And with God�s help, they�ll soon give up,� he agreed. It was as good a plan as any now.

�Now.� He felt the American turn in the direction of the forest and promptly followed suit, running head-on towards the Gears blocking their escape route. �Tyrant Rave!!!�

He tore after the fire magic master as the massive spiral of fire cleared the way for them, using some of his remaining magic to boost his speed. They had managed to clear the wall of Gears, and the cover of woodland wasn�t far. He reached the edge of the woods, only to notice that the brunet wasn�t beside him. He turned to find the man quite a distance away, cutting down some of their swifter pursuers. As he watched, the other did a Flame Dipper on one of the larger Gears before executing a perfect Bandit Revolver at another huge one as he chopped of the first�s head, all with an amazing grace.

When the other didn�t turn to run as the two enormous monsters fell into more of their lumbering friends, he shook his head slowly in denial, taking a step back. No, surely the older man wasn�t planning to stall them single-handedly while letting him escape. The idea was just preposterous. Firstly, he wasn�t about to let ANYONE die for him, not even someone he disliked that intensely. Secondly, the notion that Sol Badguy would die for ANYONE, particularly him, was just mental. It was absurd. No, the brunet was probably trying to kill as many as he could before escaping to ensure higher odds of their survival.

Reaching into himself and the Fuuraiken for the magic to help the American, he shaped as much lightning magic as he could muster into a massive projectile. This was probably the last attack he was ever going to get off today, so he hoped it would take down a substantial number of the abominations. Aiming right where the mass of Gears were beginning to converge on his rival, he hurled the strike at them.

�RISING FORCE!!!� He sagged against the nearest tree. �SOL!!� he managed to shout the warning.

Surprisingly, the other heard him above the noise of battle �or perhaps just felt the presence of the powerful attack coming from behind�, and leapt out of the way while throwing a Volcanic Viper at medium-sized Gear. His Rising Force had just hit its intended target as Sol whirled around and sped towards him. Was he imagining that the other�s mismatched eyes were now both red? But he didn�t get a chance to ponder the thought for the older man wordlessly hefted him up by the waist, and dashed into the depths of the jungle.

He would have protested the indignity of it all, but he was presently too weak to do much besides concentrating on not dropping the Fuuraiken as the other bounded over roots and branches, darting between the trees. Much to his relief, the monstrosities didn�t appear to be following them. He felt weak and cold; it was getting hard to maintain his hold on the sword, so he moved it to his left hand. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the American put him down and hacked at a mass of dense undergrowth before pushing him through the resulting gap and crawling in after him.

They were in a small clearing deep in the heart of the gloomy forest, and he had no idea where they were relative to civilization. The leaves above him kept out most of the already waning sunlight, and it was also misty. He sighed in mixed resignation and relief, somewhat reluctantly allowing his companion to help him over to a tall tree. He sank to the ground wearily, leaning against the thick trunk. He couldn�t feel his right upper arm anymore, and the numbness was slowly spreading from his shoulder down his back and to his neck.

�Take your shirt off.�

He blinked dumbly up at his rival at the sharp command, his mind gone completely blank.

�Let me see that.�

That� Oh, the wound. It finally clicked in his mind, and he hesitantly obliged. He only got as far as removing his Order cloak with his left hand when the other lost patience, and reached for the buckle and zipper on his shirt. In an instant, the bloodied shirt had joined the cloak a small distance away, and the brunet was closely inspecting the long gash on his shoulder, too closely, in fact, for his comfort. He blushed, but didn�t move. The taller man was practically straddling his lap as he looked the cut, which appeared to have stopped bleeding, over.

The other sniffed at the injury slightly, then swore. �Fuck. It�s poisoned.�

He winced at the other�s tone and word choice. He hated it when people swore. A warm hand came to rest firmly on the side of his neck and another was pressed to his lower back. It crossed his mind that the stronger man could very well snap his neck right then in his defenceless state, but he didn�t have the time to process the thought when everything crashed into blinding pain and he let out a piercing scream as the hands moved sharply towards the wound and blood sprayed forth from it. One hand then moved to hold his right arm straight out by the wrist, while the other grasped said arm tightly just above the elbow and shoved upwards. More blood spurted from the wound and he cried out in pain again, sagging forward to bury his face in the American�s right shoulder.

Suddenly, he stiffened. Surprisingly soft lips pressed to the bleeding lesion and sucked gently several times before the other spat violently. Sol could have let him die, could kill him right then, but he knew the taller man would do no such thing, had done nothing of the sort. From somewhere deep inside, a latent sense of trust that he realized had always been there bubbled to the surface as fingers carded through several blond strands. Where he had been cold before, his body suddenly felt very hot, and the heat seemed to be travelling downwards� oh, he quickly shoved the very possibility out of his mind.

�I�ve removed most of the poison. Your natural magic should be able to neutralize the traces,� came the quiet announcement.

�Why do you care?� he whispered hoarsely, still leaning against the other feebly. He couldn�t help asking; he failed to see a reason for Sol to go to all that trouble for him.

�You think I want to hear about how I left their precious boy saviour to die for the rest of my life?� The older man�s voice was condescending as usual, but he couldn�t find the loathing he had for the other�s insolence in him.

Thus, he said nothing and kept his head resting on the lean shoulder as the brunet methodically ripped two long strips of cloth off the hem of his uniform cloak and carefully tied them together before tying them over the wound and around his chest as a makeshift bandage.

�Where�s the nearest Order base?�

He blinked at the enquiry, and sat up slightly, thinking hard. �The one we set out from,� he replied as if it were obvious, which it was.

�We can�t go back that way.�

�Where are we?�

�About 15 miles north of where we were ambushed.�

He thought long and hard. Finally, he remembered. �There�s a small base about 20 miles northwest, I think� It�s near a lake.� He returned to resting his head on the other�s shoulder, sliding his eyes shut and inhaling the older man�s distinctly male scent. �I can�t believe I�m stuck in the middle of nowhere with you, of all people.�

�Would you prefer it were someone else?� Sol asked gruffly, barely above a whisper.

He paused, giving the question the consideration it deserved. At length, he shook his head slightly. �No,� he answered honestly at the same volume. Had it not been for this man, he would most likely already be dead. There was no one else he�d rather have by his side, save Master Kliff himself, and that man had already retired. With effort, he leaned back against the tree trunk and reached up, cleaning off a few specks of his blood on the other�s face with his fingertips. He touched bloodstained lips gently, and his hand dropped to his side wearily with most of the blood.

�You know I won�t thank you for it, boy,� his rival muttered darkly, grudgingly, face barely more than an inch away from his and wearing an unreadable expression.

He offered the man a weak smile, slightly dazed from blood loss, meeting that mismatched gaze calmly. �Je sais,� he whispered, then quickly switched back to English when he realized that he had lapsed into French again. �But you�ve already repaid me� and more�� he continued softly, feeling his throat start to constrict slightly, but fighting to get the words out anyway. �Thank you.� (Je sais = I know)

His chest felt heavy; there was so much emotion welling up inside him, all the feelings that rushed into him after such battles and more. He could imagine the dead bodies, some crushed brutally, scattered all over the grassy expanse of the valley they had been fighting in. If only he had known, he might have been able to do something. No, in truth, he had been careless; he could have saved some of them. He could have. The usual sorrow, regret, self-blame and agony was all there, threatening to explode from his chest in a tidal wave of feeling, but there was also something more, something pulsing and overflowing that was begging to be set free.

He didn�t realize he had inclined his head forward until his lips brushed against equally soft parted ones. In stunned disbelief, he leaned back, only to find their lips still pressed lightly together. He opened his mouth to protest, to say that they shouldn�t be doing such things because they were wrong, but that was when the other traced his lower lip with his tongue briefly before deepening the kiss to explore the recesses of his mouth languidly, and he found himself tilting his head back, unable to resist. There was something indescribable� something in the contact that the other offered, something he couldn�t fight, something he needed� and he couldn�t help but cling to it desperately.

�G-God forgive me,� he whispered breathlessly, not only from the kiss but also from the myriad of suffocating emotions swirling painfully in his chest, wrapping his arms as tightly around the muscular form as he could without causing either of them any pain as the brunet�s kisses trailed down his throat and slightly callused fingertips brushed against the golden crucifix around his neck before moving to tease his exposed nipples.

�� He moaned weakly as he felt his body respond. It was so wrong, but� but he couldn�t fight it� couldn�t fight something he wanted, needed so urgently. Sol eased him all the way down to the damp grassy ground before a warm weight settled over and blanketed his more slender form. Moist lips closed over the perked nub, and he let out a soft wanton cry, writhing slightly as the throbbing in his nether regions grew more intense. Praying for forgiveness for being too powerless to resist the temptation before him, he brought the familiar face up for another needy kiss, trying to erase the image of fallen comrades littering the valley landscape from his mind. His breathing would have grown ragged were it not that way already.

�� Fingers brushed against his heated flesh, seeking the fastenings on his pants, and he arched into the contact involuntarily, his quiet moans a fervent plea for more as kisses peppered his skin. Those warm wet lips ghosted over his body, trailing down his willowy form seeking extra-sensitive areas and working them as they were discovered. Then cool humid air met sensitized skin as his rigid member was freed, and he gasped, cheeks flushing slightly at the realization that he had never done anything like this before; Sol Badguy was going to be the first to see his entire body, to have him. He had a brief moment to wonder if the other liked what he saw, only to have a burning hand wrap around his arousal gently and stroke, eliciting a cry of pleasure as the sensation brought all his thoughts to a screeching halt.

�Nngh�� he groaned, fingers seeking purchase and digging into the other�s shoulders in a way that might have been painful as wet kisses were pressed where he most desired them, tracing the main artery of his almost painfully throbbing length. �Nnghh� aah!!� He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and writhed with want as he was taken into the other�s mouth, hips jerking and knees bending as his legs spread wider reflexively.

The damp tufts of grass chafing his skin were a muted sensation in the back of his mind. There was suction and teeth scraping sensitive skin as the American�s tongue swirled erotically around his heated shaft. He moaned, patently begging for release; he was close. It was a new sensation for him, but the rising anticipation that resonated throughout his entire being was unmistakable. Firm hands held him still to keep his hips from bucking uncontrollably as roughened fingertips reached under him, seeking out more intimate ground. Then he was roughly caressed somewhere delicious, and the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colours before anything could register�

Ky lurched up in bed, lips parted in a silent scream; another bout of chest pain piercing through the ephemeral haze of pleasure from a moment ago. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking slightly as he rode out the recurrent agony and burying his face in his knees. His cobalt blue linen pyjama pants were a mess. One hand reached up to run through damp blond strands. Mortification mingled with trepidation and uncertainty in him. The idea of him having a wet dream about the two Commanders was disturbing in the worst way.

The glowing red numbers of the digital clock on his bedside table politely and silently informed him that it was four minutes to six in the morning. The sky wouldn�t lighten for nearly another hour, and the light from the crescent moon in the sky shone down upon him in an ethereal glow. He climbed out of bed in a languid motion, the lingering echoes of bliss from his dream still thick in his blood, slowly making his way over to the adjoining bathroom. He needed a shower. Badly. Discarding his soiled and sweaty pyjamas into the laundry hamper by the bathroom door, he entered the shower area immediately.

Sighing softly as the warm water rained down on him, he thanked God for the wisdom to lock his bedroom door. It wasn�t that he was expecting anyone, but after that day when a certain American had simply entered his apartment unannounced, he wasn�t taking any chances. The last thing he needed to deal with right now was having the older man barge in on him just as he was dreaming about such things. In truth, the dream terrified him with its implications. People said the things you dream about tended to be the things you really wanted. Did he really want�? No, he shook his head violently in the shower to clear the thoughts that were beginning to form. It was sinful to lust after a member of your own gender.

But, even so, he couldn�t help but wonder. If he really wanted the Commander that way, why was he dreaming about the man with his namesake instead? And were they really just dreams, or something more? There was the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that insisted that the events in his many visions had truly happened once. Did that mean that the two Commanders had indeed been lovers? How much of the dreams were fact, and how much just fantasy? If the things he saw had indeed happened, then why was he dreaming about them? How did he know all these things? He rinsed the soap off his skin, trying not to think about how a pair of slightly callused hands had felt on his body, and sunk down to the cool tiled floor of the shower area. It was all so confusing.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

It had been more than a fortnight since the day he�d had breakfast with a certain blond boy. The breeze was cool where he sat under the shady boughs of a large oak by the river Seine, leaning against the trunk with a cigarette hanging limply from his lips. The faint tendrils of smoke rose slowly into the air the way thoughts and memories rose in his mind, in random circles but a certain direction nonetheless.

He remembered that scar. The late knight had had one exactly the same, and he recalled the wound that had caused it with startling clarity. It had been a slash from a poisoned Gear claw during an ambush, and he�d had to force the poison out of the boy�s bloodstream. The injury had left the late Commander weak for days from both the lingering poison traces and the resulting blood loss. He�d had to carry the kid most of the way back to the Order�s nearest base. He also recalled the boy kissing him out of the blue while resting in the forest they had escaped through before mumbling profuse apologies about being in a daze and not knowing what had come over him.

Carelessly tossing the cigarette butt aside, he shook out another stick from the pack in his pocket and lit it with a casual wave of his hand. It was hard not to notice the many similarities and coincidences. The boy had been born in Venice a day after his namesake had been killed and moved to Corsica to grow up practically French despite his true nationality. One could even ignore the stroke of providence that caused his mother to give him his name, but the boy�s personality and appearance was also closer to that of the late knight�s than should genetically be possible.

Moreover, there was the inherent magic ability, which was a rather rare trait in humans. In fact, the blond�s present magic pool appeared to be greater than his predecessor�s and with a clearly different manifestation. Furthermore, the twist of fate that resulted in them both arriving in Paris within hours of each other may have been purely coincidental, but the meetings at the Gear attack and the memorial probably weren�t. Then again, the concept of reincarnation was bullshit. Even the late Commander hadn�t believed in it. Of course, there was also the possibility that Someone Up There had deliberately done it just to spite him. After all the shit He�d put him through, he really wouldn�t put it past Him.

Absently, he wondered where everyone had gotten the notion that he and Ky Kiske had disliked each other at first sight. That was patently untrue. Any dislike that might have taken root the instant they had met had been entirely on the Frenchman�s part. He hadn�t had anything against the boy personally; the blond had had quite a pleasant demeanour at the beginning, and he had much better things to do with his time and resources than to go around disliking people for no apparent reason. He simply didn�t approve of having a child, however talented, as the Commander of the Holy Order. His dislike for the kid had only begun when the other had chosen to prove his appraisal of immaturity absolutely right by taking his disapproval personally and making a royal nuisance of himself at every opportunity.

He had even taken the one-sided rivalry and constant duelling in good humour. The late knight had been a powerful and skilled fighter for a human and non-Japanese, albeit quite far from ever being his equal, and the duels were always entertaining, particularly the way in which his opponent would get so worked up over his apparently effortless victory. That, and deliberately riling the young Commander up to test the limits of the boy�s self-control, had been rather enjoyable pastimes when there was a lull in the fighting and simply nothing more engaging to do. Then the kid had started nagging at him like the grandmother he�d never had about how just about everything was bad for him and trying to convert him into a devout and puritanical Roman Catholic, and that was where amusement had quickly turned into annoyance.

�Commander Sol Badguy,� a calm greeting interrupted his reverie.

He didn�t even turn to the woman bowing politely to him before answering. �You�re the Commander now.�

Arianne Thallassa straightened. �Acting Commander, Sir,� she corrected smoothly with a slight smile, tucking a stray lock of her wavy reddish-copper hair behind her left ear. �Your position is still official; we just declared you M.I.A. You are still my superior.� She paused for a moment before continuing. �Fancy seeing you here, Sir.�

The American slid a look over at her but didn�t dignify the statement with a reply. The half-Spanish lady looked exactly as he remembered her, almost a full decade younger than her years, and he suspected that she might have learnt to use some of her magic energy to preserve her youth. Rather than the open-ended gloves the late blond had favoured, she wore a pair of identical heavy platinum wrist-cuffs partially hidden by the long sleeves of her sea green and white Order uniform that he didn�t remember seeing the last time they had met. The large blue jewel that adorned it glinted brilliantly in the sun as recognition slid into place with a resounding click in his mind.

�Kojouhaku,� he murmured simply. Of course he recognized it. He had designed the cuffs himself as part of the Outrage. The Kojouhaku gave its user the ability to control water magic, or in the Water Witch Arianne Thallassa�s case, highly enhanced one�s power over water magic.

If the fact that he recognized the Jinki she wore surprised her, the Acting Commander did not show it. She simply nodded. �The new United Nations gave it to me to aid in the speedy destruction of the remaining Gears.�

As if on cue, there was an ear-splitting crash before the ground quaked violently beneath them and both the Fuuenken and the Kojouhaku emitted a strong magical pulse in resonance with the nearby Gear. Teal eyes darted in the direction of the commotion, and she took off wordlessly. Dropping the cigarette butt as he jumped to his feet to follow her, he saw the waters of the Seine whirling ominously.

He was only several seconds behind her when they arrived on scene a few roads away. Several buildings were in ruins and injured civilians lined the streets. The Gear was enormous, and resembled a massive floating eyeball, a kind he had destroyed many of. The American moved to attack, but thought better of it when he saw his subordinate raise her arms, eyes closed in deep concentration. With the woman this near a large body of water, the rabid Gear wasn�t likely to survive the first attack. The blue jewels of the Kojouhaku glowed on her wrists as a colossal spiral of water rose up into the sky from the river not too far away before hurtling towards the monster with immense force and speed, freezing over as it went.

�Aquarian Legend!!� The huge ice spear pierced right through the giant sphere�s single eye, lifting it up into the air. There was a brief moment of silence before a loud crack resounded throughout the area as innumerable spikes of ice shot out of the Gear, the icicles dripping black ichor.

Sol heaved a silent sigh as the ruined Gear was slowly lowered to the ground a safe distance away before the water shrunk back to where it had come from. Arianne Thallassa didn�t need the Kojouhaku. It was like giving a duck floats. If anything, they should have given the cuffs to her during the war rather than after. It was no wonder that the first thing Justice had done was destroy Japan; even half-Japanese had the potential to gain an abnormal level of power for humans. The fact that her mother had been Japanese was considerably well-hidden, and most documentation indicated her as being purely of Spanish descent. Only her constant visits to the Japanese Colony to visit her late mother�s relatives had given her away, and almost no one knew about those either.

Suddenly, he spotted a familiar blond figure limping from one wounded civilian to the next, and repressed the urge to slap his own forehead. The boy had inherited the full set of his namesake�s less than savoury personality traits, among which were the utter inability to just mind his own damn business. Even from this far off, he could see that the kid had injured more than just his leg, and he was obviously conveniently ignoring his own injuries in favour of helping others.

�He looks like him,� Arianne�s voice interrupted his exasperated thoughts.

There was no mistaking whom she meant by �him�, but seeing as the statement didn�t warrant a reply, he said nothing, instead merely following his unofficial successor as she walked towards the person in question. She arrived at the blond�s side just in time to watch him heal a large gash in a man�s stomach. The man was probably one of the luckiest bastards on the planet; had the boy not been here, he would have been dead long before any medical help arrived. The blond was wearing a light brown blazer over a white shirt with a low rounded neckline and white slacks. Light brown leather boots scuffed the asphalt as he shifted to a more comfortable position to finish the healing.

Ky Belucci looked up as footsteps stopped right beside him. Blinking to focus against the glare of the sunlight, he stared at the familiar face of a woman he was fairly certain he had never met. Fleeting memories of cheese tarts and tea under a willow tree in spring ghosted pass, and suddenly, he thought he knew. �Madame� Arianne Thallassa?� he hazarded tentatively.

The woman raised an eyebrow and inclined her head in agreement, but declined to comment as the man the Italian had been patching up slowly rose to his feet and excused himself, muttering a million thanks.

�You never could mind your own God damn business.�

The blond blinked, gaze travelling to the owner of a gruff voice he had off pat standing just behind the Holy Order�s Acting Commander. �S� Commander Badguy,� he amended the greeting quickly, remembering his manners.

Teal eyes twinkled as they slid from the blond to the brunet behind their owner. �Why does it not surprise me that you two are acquainted?�

She was wearing that smile that Sol hated, the one that said in no uncertain terms that she was privy to certain knowledge she wasn�t letting on. He declined to answer her, instead turning to the boy who was blushing slightly for some undefined reason. �You�re bleeding,� he pointed out the obvious, not wanting to sound like he cared either way, as he glanced briefly at the exposed long cut on the other�s slender right arm where the blazer had been ripped open by whatever had caused the injury.

Ky smiled faintly. �Yeah�� he agreed softly, pressing a hand lightly to the cut. �I think I might have sprained my ankle as well.�

�Take the shoe off,� Arianne ordered before her superior could reply. �We should check if anything�s broken or dislocated.�

As the boy complied by removing both the boot and sock on his left foot, Sol asked the question that had been circling his mind for a few minutes. �Why don�t you heal yourself?�

�Obviously because I can�t,� the other retorted as if that much should be obvious, voice rather clipped from pain as the woman felt the swelling joint with gentle but sure fingers. �I�ve tried before� doesn�t wo� Aaahh!!!� a yell of pain interrupted his explanation as he heard the joint pop, his leg jerking reflexively.

�You dislocated it,� Arianne explained as she stood, pushing her wavy hair back as she did so. �I�ve realigned it, so put some ice on it when you get back and avoid putting pressure on it for a few days, and it should be fine.�

The blond nodded and put his sock and shoe back on, gingerly flexing his left foot before rising slowly. The world seemed to sway. He had probably used up too much magic. Sol stifled a sigh as his subordinate�s hand snapped out to grip the boy�s arm as he collapsed, reaching into his pocket. He needed a cigarette. A small flame burst to life briefly at the end of the stick of tobacco, and he took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke before finally moving to relieve Arianne of the deadweight she now had propped up against her side with an arm around the blond�s chest to support him. Hefting the slender form up easily by the waist, he slung him over his shoulder fireman-style.

�I�ll take the kid home,� he muttered.

The amused smile on her tanned face spoke waves on just what she thought about his knowing where the boy lived, but she wisely opted not to comment on it. Instead, she simply bowed and said, �Yes, Sir. Do remind him to ice that ankle.�

The image of him maiming her brutally briefly crossed his mind before he decided that killing her just wasn�t worth it. An attack would probably give her even more satisfaction than she already had, since her magic shielding showed that she clearly expected one. �Get outta my face,� he growled, before storming off in the direction of the kid�s house.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

A/N: There is no official information regarding the form and function of the Kojouhaku. I took my liberties with that one based on its name, which apparently means "White on the Lake". I thought it sounded like water magic. I hope you enjoyed it thus far, and please TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.

Much thanks to:

Ishiwatari Daisuke (for a nice game with nice slashable characters)

Meinarch (for being a lovely muse and beta)

Readers (for reading this at all)

Reviewers (for taking the time! It really means a lot to me)
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

If Your God Were Real