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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Disclaimer: Please refer to the disclaimer in previous chapters.

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 3: The Desert Rose Three-Step

Azure eyes blinked blearily up at a familiar ceiling. Ky sat up slowly. When had he gotten home? The last thing he remembered� Either Sol or Arianne had probably sent him home then. He took in the way the bandage on his arm had been wrapped just a little too tight for comfort and the condensation from the ice packs on his ankle soaking the white cotton sheets. He smiled faintly. Yes, that was probably the older man�s doing; the American couldn�t even be bothered enough to put a towel underneath to keep the bed dry. In fact, the blond realized he should probably be grateful that the other had even sent him home, let alone done anything beyond that.

Gingerly extracting his left leg from under the haphazard pile of ice packs on it, he slowly lowered his legs to the floor to rise, careful to favour his injured side, and limped his way out of his room. The rest of the house was empty. He swiftly pushed away the twinge of disappointment that assailed him in that instant. What was he expecting? Certainly people had better things to do than sitting around waiting for him to regain consciousness. Besides, why would Sol even care enough to stay? It wasn�t as if he had been in any danger either.

Ky hobbled back into his room using the wall and doorframe as a support whenever he could. As he lowered himself back to sit on his bed, he noticed his boots, socks, shirt and blazer left carelessly at the foot of the bed. He shook his head slightly in fond exasperation. Then it finally struck. He wasn�t� Sol must have taken the shirt and blazer off to bandage his arm. He felt his cheeks heat at the very notion. The image of the brunet undressing him came unbidden to his mind, and he found himself utterly mortified at the way the mere thought of it made his heart speed up and skip a beat. He flopped back and turned to bury his face in his pillow.

No! No, I shouldn�t feel this way! It�s wrong, a sin! he told himself, but that only served to make things worse; the harder he tried not to think about it, the more the thoughts filled his mind. He thumped his head on the soft fibre pillow several times. No, no, no, no, no. Abruptly, he bit his lip and sat up before hurrying to the bathroom as best he could. He needed a cold shower.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

Sol poured himself another glass of whisky from the half-empty bottle on his table, and downed the entire glass in one gulp. What was it about pretty blond boys with the damnable personalities of Roman Catholic grandmother nuns and his life? As if one wasn�t bad enough, he had to meet two in the same century. Come to think of it, he had briefly met a few in the previous century too, only he had avoided those like the bubonic plague �well, that being said in the hypothetical assumption that he could catch the plague, which he fortunately couldn�t, as immunity was one of the sparse few plus points of being a Gear, a plus point he often resented in moments when he was feeling particularly tired and fed up of life�.

What had changed then? When had avoiding them stopped becoming an option? Indeed, when had they even become tolerable? He tossed back another glass full of the sweet-smelling alcohol. He liked this bar. Here at the back corner where he sat, no one ever bothered him. No one even batted an eye at the three empty bottles they were wont to find on the table or the large sword invariably propped up against the wall beside him when they walked past. The proprietors were a pleasant lady with a taste for gothic Lolita outfits who didn�t believe in gossiping about her customers and her brother who never did anything but smile and nod. The lighting was dim and the garish neon lights common to such establishments had been kept to a minimum. Best of all, it was as quiet as such places got. The rock music in the background was audible, but never obtrusive. And at least they played Queen fairly regularly. If he was going to have to listen to any music, it�d better be rock, and if it were rock, it�d definitely better be Queen.

�Just as he was pouring himself yet another glass of the amber liquid, he heard some commotion outside. Being a Gear, Sol had sharper hearing than most humans. It was one of the reasons he generally liked silence. Human parameters of what constituted the word �loud� didn�t exactly overlap with his. He scoffed silently and poured the entire glass down his throat. Not like it was any of his business. Whoever they were out there could solve their own problems. He had more than enough of his own to deal with not to want to bother with anyone else�s. That�s when he felt the warm flare of a familiar presence. Sol thumped his head lightly against the wall behind him. Why couldn�t that meddlesome blond kid ever mind his own damned business?

He brought the bottle of liquor to his lips and gulped down several mouthfuls. Well, he certainly wasn�t going to get involved. The boy could either learn to stay out of trouble, take care of himself or deal with the aftermath personally. He leaned back and savoured the sweet aftertaste of the alcohol. Just then, the noises of things clattering to the ground were heard from outside followed by some muffled conversation that he couldn�t make out. It sounded like someone was struggling. The silence that followed immediately after was also somewhat disturbing. He grabbed the nearly empty bottle and finished it off before thumping it rather loudly on the table.

Fine, he thought rather irritably as he brusquely grabbed the Fuuenken and stormed towards the door, leaving the necessary World Dollars on the table. He didn�t need another Ky added to the list of people he�d inadvertently killed or caused the death of.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

He�d gone out to buy groceries for the week. As he was on his way back, carrying two full bags of food supplies, he suddenly sensed that he was being followed. Sensibly, Ky started walking faster. The only problem was that he had to pass through a particularly deserted area on his way home. He dreaded that place now. The people following him obviously had nothing good on their minds planned out for him. Briskly turning the corner, he broke out into a run, hoping to get through the necessary few quiet streets as swiftly as possible. Behind him, he heard the tailing footsteps pick up in speed too. He just ran on without looking back. It was best to avoid trouble if possible. There were at least two of them behind him, and they might be armed. It wasn�t a risk he was willing to take.

Abruptly, someone stepped right into his path, and he found himself colliding face-on with a hard chest clad only in a green tank top. The impact had him falling to the ground and dropping his shopping. He muttered an apology as he picked himself up and started to leave again, not bothering with the groceries. They weren�t worth his safety, after all. He had barely taken two steps when a powerful grip closed around the back of his neck and lifted him off the ground.

�Where do you think you�re going, kid?� the man he had bumped into grunted. There was a malicious sneer on his scarred oval face, and he was bald. Judging by the wicked snickers behind him, he was obviously an accomplice of his pursuers. Just his luck.

�Well, well� I didn�t expect the healer kid the master wants to be such a pretty boy,� came an amused drawl from behind.

�Well, considering the master�s tastes, would you have been surprised, Coll?� asked the third, a woman with a raspy soprano.

The sound of the word �tastes� was enough to make Ky stiffen even as two of his assailants laughed malevolently. Sharply, he kicked forward, hitting the one holding him right where it hurt the most. He was dropped with a loud groan, and immediately, he took off as fast as he could, ignoring the fallen groceries. He never made it past the fifth step. One man pounced on him, grabbing his ankles and taking him to the ground, and his partner grabbed his hands and hauled him up with them held behind him, nearly dislocating his arms in the process. The blond cried out sharply in pain as his attackers dragged him roughly into a nearby alley, struggling to get free and kicking over a nearby metal trashcan in the process.

�Hold him still, Collin,� said the woman who now stood in front of him, violet lips curled in a malicious sneer. She had messy chin-length silvery-white hair and a black eye patch over the left of her violet eyes. Her white sleeveless velvet top and violet corduroy long pants hugged her slender figure tightly, and her hands, gloved in violet leather, brandished a syringe filled with a suspicious clear liquid. �He�ll be nice and quiet after he�s had some of this.�

�Hurry, Jeanie�� Collin drawled from behind him, holding him still in a vice-like grip despite his struggles. �I�d like to taste him before we bring him back to the master��

Ky�s eyes widened as a tongue licking up the side of his neck drove the full weight of their words into him, and he struggled harder, only his efforts were futile and the needle pricked the other side of his neck, emptying its contents into a plump vein. Almost immediately, the strength left his body and the world melded into a slow-motion silent movie. He saw Jeanie�s full violet lips move slowly, but heard nothing besides a hazy garble a few seconds later.

All of a sudden, he felt inexplicably happy despite the circumstances even as he vaguely felt hands roughly undo the fastenings on his light blue slacks. He laughed without knowing the reason and a mouth covered his open one, a tongue slipping in to taste him. It was all so far away... like he was watching it all from a distance made up of a thick fog between his mind and body.

The mouth covering his own drew away, and he caught sight of orange hair and emerald eyes a moment before a familiar bulky red sword sliced cleanly through the head before him and his field of vision in slow motion, and he found himself laughing cheerfully as the now headless body of his would-be possible rapist gradually slumped forward against him, pinning him to the wall behind him with its dead weight and soaking his beige shirt with the blood spurting and gushing forth from where the head had once been.

It occurred to him as Jeanie slowly leapt over the wire fence on his left in a graceful arc that he probably should have been shocked, maybe even horrified, but all he could do was laugh. He couldn�t even explain the laughter. There was nothing funny about the situation at all. He slowly turned to find the bulky crimson blade buried in the chest of the bald man who had first caught him even as the headless body leaning on his chest slid limply to the ground.

Then, familiar arms wound around him and a pair of mismatched red and gold eyes scrutinized dilated azure ones. He let his head loll to the side to rest on the other�s shoulder, laughing as the familiar scent of Sol, sweat and blood assailed his senses. Chubby fingers carded briefly through his hair before he felt himself being lifted off his feet. The world spun abruptly as he was slung over the older man�s muscular shoulder, and he found himself lurching into pitch black oblivion.

Sol repressed a sigh as he leaned forward to pull the Fuuenken out of the lifeless meat it had sunken into. It seemed that he would always be stuck sending puritanical blond kids home. Neither the boy nor his namesake appeared to be any good at staying out of trouble. He turned and began walking off in the direction of a now well-remembered apartment block. Well, at least he�d managed to keep this one alive so far. That was assuming the bandits had hopefully not shot a lethal dose of whatever drug they had used into him.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

Ky awoke in darkness to the smell of blood, feeling sticky all over. He tried to sit up, but what he could see of his room in the near-total absence of light seemed to phase out of reality and he sank back down, groaning softly. Through the hazy pain in his head, he remembered Sol rescuing him from the thugs. The American must have sent him home, since he was lying on a towel to keep from staining his bed with the blood from his clothes. The smell of blood and the memory of him laughing as it had gushed onto his clothes from the headless body of his attacker was making him sick.

Abruptly, he rolled off the bed, landing haphazardly on his feet and rushed to the bathroom with his hand over his mouth. He barely made it to the toilet before it all burst forth, and he was emptying the contents of his stomach into the water closet. The bile burned his throat, and he could barely hold himself upright to throw up. They had drugged him; his entire body still felt weak and sluggish. He leaned tiredly against the glass partition between the water closet and the shower area, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He still felt ill, but his stomach felt empty.

Slowly, he undid the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. He had a feeling the dried blood caked to the fabric was falling to the light gray bathroom tiles as a fine rust-coloured powder. In the dark bathroom, he could just barely make out the large round enamel tub beside the door that he had insisted on having. The sink was on the other side of the door, his left, white enamel laid in shiny white marble. The polished steel-rimmed mirror above it faced the tub. That was just as well; he didn�t feel up to seeing himself in this state.

When he had finally managed to undo all the fastenings on his clothes, he shrugged them off sluggishly and crawled gingerly into the shower area, reaching up to turn the stainless steel taps with some effort. Steam rose in the cool dark room as he allowed the hot water to rain down on him, barely noticing the slight twinges of pain where it mildly scalded his fair and delicate skin as he grabbed the shower gel and emptied a handful onto himself, scrubbing at the dried bloodstains with the vanilla-scented liquid. It was a long time before he felt clean enough to move on to his hair.

The smell of honey permeated the air as he lathered the shampoo into blond strands. He was probably going to have to dump the clothes and the towel and change the sheets. There was no way he�d be able to live with the stench of bloodshed in the air. Despite how commonplace the smell seemed, it still made him sick. The years of Gear attacks in Corsica had not taken away that gut-wrenching feeling that overcame him at the smell of carnage. He could watch it from afar, could look at the pictures of fallen soldiers with little more than sympathy and gratitude, but the reek of blood made it all so real, drove in the painful truth that people were dead and dying, that human life was so fragile and ephemeral and how millions of people were wasting it away when they could have been doing something important with their time before they died.

The blond wanted to cry as he washed his face with a cleanser that smelled distinctly like green tea, but he felt so hollow inside. There were no tears. And what was the point in crying? He didn�t really even feel sad; it was just a sick feeling swirling around inside that was trying to escape, but he couldn�t throw up anymore and maybe if he cried, it would go away, maybe he would feel better, but he couldn�t do that either. His chest hurt. Burying his face in his knees, he wrapped his arms protectively around himself and let the cooling water continue raining upon him, not wanting to get up until he was sure he could do so without passing out. It was more than an hour, and the water had long since grown cold, before he finally got out of the shower.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

�� The dripping petals of a peach-coloured rose brushed against his elbow where Sol rested his crossed arms on a stainless steel balcony railing covered in rose and honeysuckle vines. It was a small balcony sheltered by a ledge over it, seven feet wide but only extending four feet outwards. The sliding glass doors behind him separated it from the rest of the apartment. He blew the cigarette butt hanging limply from his mouth away, and it fell down to the wet asphalt below as he reached for the pack in his pocket to shake out and light another one. It was a nice enough place to have a smoke while waiting out the rain that had now dwindled into a drizzle in this quiet part of Paris, and the sweet scent of the flowers permeated the cool damp night air.

�� Taking a long drag of tobacco smoke, he picked up on the sound of shuffling feet inside the apartment. He contemplated leaving, but it was still drizzling steadily, and he wasn�t especially fond of getting himself drenched. The night breeze carried his long brown hair gently backwards, and white lace curtains billowed into the embrace of heavier thick dark blue ones. The steps sounded uncertain, as if the person was staggering slightly rather than walking. He heard movement in the kitchen; the other was taking things out of the drawers and cabinets. He wondered briefly what the other intended to cook in that seemingly unsteady state before deciding that it wasn�t really any of his business and returning to staring out at the rainy cityscape as he smoked in silence.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

Slender fingers with perfectly manicured nails closed around the handle of the refrigerator door and tugged it open with much effort. Carefully lifting the container of yesterday�s leftover chicken and mushroom soup from the refrigerator shelf, he emptied its contents into a porcelain bowl and popped it into the microwave to reheat. His stomach felt unpleasantly empty, but he didn�t feel up to eating anything solid, so the soup would have to do for now. The microwave dinged after the two minutes he�d spent washing the container, and he decided to just drink it in the kitchen. His entire body still felt weak and woozy from the after-effects of whatever drug they�d injected into him, and he wasn�t sure he could make it to the dining table outside without falling and spilling the soup all over the wooden floor.

Slowly, he spooned the steaming soup into his mouth, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter and thinking about the large garbage bag in the bathroom that he�d tied up tightly after dumping the bloodstained clothes and towel in. The sheets had thankfully not been stained. At least Sol had been considerate enough to put the towel under him for once. He sighed. Speaking of which, he owed the man his life again. Only the Heavenly Father knew what fate could have awaited him had the bandits really taken him back to their employer. He wondered where the American was presently. It was too much to hope for that the other had stayed for more than a minute after depositing him here. He stared out the kitchen window at the light drizzle falling from the night sky outside as he finished his soup and found himself praying that the older man wasn�t out there somewhere getting drenched.

The night breeze blowing in from the open balcony door was chilly from the rain, and Ky was thankful for the warm gray sweater he had on despite how the wide neckline left his throat and most of his shoulders exposed. On his way back to his room to rest after he�d washed the spoon and bowl, he suddenly caught a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air. A strange mix of hope, curiosity and instinct made him shuffle slowly towards the balcony. He wasn�t sure why the sight of that familiar form bathed in the moonlight through the lace curtains covering the sliding glass doors as the brunet exhaled a puff of tobacco smoke filled him with a pleasant warmth, but he smiled slightly to himself. The dark blue curtains covering the opening where he always kept one glass panel slid back for ventilation when he was home had obscured the American from view earlier.

�You stayed�� he murmured softly as he parted the curtains to step out onto the small balcony behind the taller man, watching as soft brown strands floated back in the breeze.

The other turned to face him and shrugged carelessly, briefly inclining his head backwards as he dropped the cigarette butt to the empty streets below. �It�s still raining,� he explained, leaning against the vine-covered railing and not caring how many flowers he might have been squashing.

The blond inched closer, shivering slightly as the chilly night breeze picked up again, and Sol wondered why he had a sudden urge to pull the boy closer. �Thank you� for saving me� again,� he whispered, reaching out to caress the moist petals of a nearby honeysuckle.

�Was passing by,� came the gruffly muttered reply. It wasn�t quite a lie, nor was it quite the truth. It just happened that Sol had been drinking in the bar beside the alley.

He watched as azure eyes slid shut and a slender hand rose slowly to lightly touch the side of that pale neck. The younger man looked unsteady, like he was going to fall, but somehow remained standing. A look of mild disgust crossed delicate features, and suddenly, the brunet knew exactly what the kid was thinking about. Maybe it was the temptingly exposed smooth creamy skin above the light gray sweater; maybe it was the way that shivering slender form begged for warmth. Maybe it was how he looked so much like a certain blond Commander he�d always found ravishing if rather annoying, or how those clear blue eyes had been so full fear, pain and disgust when he had looked into them briefly just moments ago. Or maybe it had just been too long.

He snatched the hand still gently brushing the flower petals and pressed it to his cheek as he almost hauled the blond forward to press his lips to soft pale ones; the Italian still tasted of sweet innocence beneath the chicken and mushroom soup from a moment ago, and he smelt exactly the way he remembered the late saint had: of sweet honey and vanilla. Ky�s eyes flew open in shock, but found himself unable to resist opening up to the rough kiss and closing his eyes again as a powerful arm wrapped around him, and he ended up resting almost his entire body weight on the other. It was warm, so wonderfully warm, and it made that suffocating feeling go away. He knew it was wrong, but he needed this, needed Sol, and he didn�t have the strength to fight that desperation.

Even knowing that God might never forgive him didn�t give him the willpower to refuse what the American was offering. Oh God, he was so weak� but was it really so bad to love someone? Because he did. It was crazy, he knew; they�d only met barely over a month ago, and there was still so much about this man that he didn�t know. Yet, the feeling was there, real and undeniable, and impossibly powerful. Maybe it was the dreams; maybe it was the magnetic mystery surrounding the brunet. Or maybe it was the loneliness he saw in mismatched eyes that brought out a desperate longing within him to fill. Oh, if being a woman would make this right, he�d happily have been born a girl. But perhaps if that had been the case, he wouldn�t be here with the other man now.

Raising his other hand to cup the brunet�s other cheek, he tilted his head back to provide better access as the kiss moved to trail down his throat. He called the other�s name softly, inhaling that uniquely male scent buried in long brown strands that was simply Sol. The slight stubble on the older man�s chin was rough against his skin as their lips met again, and he tasted bittersweet sin and power in the other under the strong flavour of tobacco. He wrapped his arms around the tanned neck to press their bodies closer. He couldn�t explain the feeling of mutual need that wound itself around him as callused hands slid under the sweater to chafe his skin, but he knew they needed each other. He buried his face in the muscular shoulder as the American half-carried him to his bedroom and collapsed with him onto the neatly made queen-sized bed.

He was about to mention the reek of blood, when he abruptly realized that he couldn�t smell anything of the sort, although that may have been because he could smell nothing but Sol�s somewhat spicy scent as the other tugged his sweater over his head and began trailing kisses over his exposed skin. Reaching for the buckles on the older man�s jacket, Ky fumbled to unfasten them, and succeeded in several minutes. Pulling both the red jacket and the black tank top beneath it off, he arched up against planes of smooth firm muscle as a warm mouth closed over a perked nipple, feeling soft fine chest hair brushing his skin. He reached up to unfasten the buckles on the other�s bulky headgear, wanting to card his fingers through silken brown strands, but strong fingers wrapped around his own and tugged his hand downwards as Sol moved to nibble lightly on another ruddy nub.

Moaning helplessly as a hand slid under his light brown sweatpants to cup that part of him that was now throbbing insistently, Ky began to work on the buckles on his partner�s belt instead, his wish to bury his hands in long brown tresses forgotten for the moment. He writhed as he was roughly caressed through the confining fabric of beige cotton briefs, whimpering as he felt an unfamiliar wetness at the tip and unable to keep his hips from jerking into the American�s warm hand. That delicious mouth found his own again, silencing his gasp as his pants and briefs were brusquely tugged down at once, freeing his leaking arousal just as he�d managed to undo the other�s jeans. Cool air met heated flesh an instant before a burning hot hand closed around the rigid shaft and stroked hard. Just two rough strokes and he arched back, crying out sharply and unable to keep from coming all over callused fingers as a million waves of pleasure broke against him, drowning him in ecstasy.

�Virgin,� that deep bass murmured huskily against his right ear in a teasing tone.

Ky bit his lip and looked away, blushing. �Well, I�m��

�� such a prude, boy,� the other finished for him, smirking.

The blond was about to make another breathless protest, but found himself making a soft sound of pain instead as a moist finger pressed into him. He groaned quietly; it hurt his sensitized flesh so much, but the digit sliding slowly in and out of him somehow felt right. He wrapped his arms around that tanned chest and buried his face in a lean shoulder as a second finger joined the first. Inexplicably, he felt himself hardening again despite the pain, as if those intimate places of his body were begging to be touched. Sol sucked hard at his collarbone, possessively leaving a mark on delicate skin, and Ky reached down to tug fitting jeans off lean hips along with the tight black briefs beneath them.

�� He winced as a third digit pressed into him, but closed his fingers around the other�s stiff member and caressed tentatively. At the other�s groan of approval, he began to move his hand more roughly and quickly, cringing and biting his lip as the fingers inside him spread slowly but steadily, stretching his narrow entrance. Abruptly, Sol grabbed his hand and pulled it away, sliding swiftly down his body to take his neglected member into that warm wet mouth, eliciting a sharp gasp from him as the strong suction had him completely erect all over again.

�� Just then, the burst of pleasure was over and the taller man flipped him over. He turned to see the American grabbing the bottle of lotion he always left beside the digital clock on the bedside table and pour some out onto a slightly roughened palm. Suddenly, it hit him, what the brunet was about to do, and he turned away to bury his head in the pillow, but nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating pain that seared through his system as he was entered in a swift motion. The pillow thankfully muffled his loud scream as the older man groaned softly behind him.

�� Sol wrapped his arms around the other�s slender waist to gently tug the blond to his knees for what was to come before burying the cleaner fingers of his left hand in fine flaxen strands. His other hand moved to caress a now flaccid member gently. In the moonlight drifting through the gap between the pastel blue curtains, the other looked so much like his namesake; he could easily have mistaken them but for the fact that he wasn�t likely to ever be doing this with the far more anal-retentive Commander. Still, the younger man was beautiful, and he called the prototype Gear�s name softly even now with such an unexplainably wistful longing. If only he knew who �or rather what- he was presently having sex with.

�Sol�� that slightly nasal tenor called again, somewhat breathless from everything that had transpired in the last ten minutes. The Italian bit his lip as Sol continued to gently brush his fingers against sensitive skin, every caress finding more intimate ground.

�Mm�� he murmured vaguely, not bothering with words as he trailed kisses up that slender neck. The boy was so tight; he needed to move now, but first, he had to keep the blond from screaming too loudly in pain.

�God won�t forgive me� I think�� the other whispered quietly as he used the hand buried in golden hair to gently tilt the younger man�s head back, and traced the delicate jaw-line with kisses. �Nngh�� he moaned as he was touched somewhere new. �I can�t even repent� mm.�

The American caught the other�s lips in his own before the boy could sound any more like a certain Frenchman than he already did and slid out of that constricting heat only to thrust back in sharply, instinctively adjusting his aim. The kiss rather effectively silenced the other�s sharp cry of pain and the whimper of pleasure that followed when he hit that sensitive gland directly. Cries of pain became ardent pleas for more as he continued to move in and out of that willowy body, steadily increasing his pace as he thumbed the tip of the hardness in his hands roughly in a matching rhythm.

Ky leaned forward to brace his elbows on the bed, the word �please� and his partner's name interspersed with incoherent sounds of pleasure and entreaties in both French and Italian falling raggedly from his lips. He pushed back as the older man drove into him, forcing the other deeper into his body, and his back arched reflexively in response to that explosive burst of pleasure that erupted deep within. The hand fisted in his hair had moved to his shoulder, and it now slid across his sweat-slick skin to tease stiff nipples again.

He recognised that building pressure well enough now, that feeling of being so full of pleasure and passion that it just had to escape, and found himself both wanting to hold it all in forever and to just let it free so he could fly with it all at the same time, but soon, it was no longer an option for him. He came, Sol�s name on his lips as everything, the entire world, ceased to matter in that one instant of completion, of being perfect and whole, of being lost and drowning in a wild yet heavenly sea of ecstasy with someone so very special.

Gasping slightly as hot semen jetted into him, he heard Sol groaning behind him before a warm weight settled over his body when they both slumped into the soft mattress together, bodies sweaty and spent. The American turned onto his side and, he followed suit, finding strong arms still wrapped around him as he tugged the thin white cotton blanket that had somehow been pushed aside during their activities over them both. Ky sighed contentedly, lacing the fingers of his left hand with that of the older man�s to keep it pressed to his chest and enjoying the feeling of having the other still inside him. It wasn�t long before he drifted off to sleep.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

The weak light filtering into the room through the gaps between the pastel blue curtains covering the room's two windows indicated that it hadn�t been long since dawn had broken over the city of love. Blue eyes blinked sleepily at the sight of the clear blue sky through the glass above the bed�s dashboard, their owner feeling unusually warm and contented that morning. Buried in a mess of blankets, limbs and sheets, Ky felt like he never wanted to get out of bed again. It was so wonderfully warm right where he was, and the very thought of leaving this heaven made him snuggle deeper into it.

At some point in the middle of the night, he had turned to face his companion. He smiled now, threading his fingers through the long brown strands strewn all over bare tanned skin, as he watched the other sleep. Even relaxed in slumber, the other�s face seemed somehow drawn, making the blond wonder what kinds of horrors were hidden in the other�s mysterious past. He suddenly noticed that the brunet was still wearing the bulky red headgear. It puzzled him as to how the taller man could sleep with what appeared to be a big chunk of metal tied to his forehead; it looked so very uncomfortable!

Ky reached out tentatively, not wanting to wake the other, and began slowly and carefully undoing the buckles. He was surprised when the other did not even stir, recalling how the man had immediately awoken completely alert at the barest hint of movement the last time he had seen the Commander asleep. In fact, he was rather surprised that Sol had even spent the night. In truth, he had expected to wake up alone this morning; the American was always so distant and withdrawn in his own way; he wouldn�t have put it past the gruff and unsociable man to leave within an hour or two after he had fallen asleep. A gentle smile curved his lips.

He must feel safe here� he thought happily as he finally managed to unfasten the last buckle. Carefully, he peeled the accessory away from tanned skin and matted hair. The sight that greeted him made the breath hitch in his throat and the hand on the headpiece shake slightly. The Gear mark glowed a malicious orange on the other man�s forehead, and he found himself unable to look away, eyes wide with shock, confusion and horror. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined the truth he now saw with cruel and unforgiving clarity. He� Commander Sol Badguy of the Holy Order� is a Gear..? But how..? Why is he fighting them instead of us? I� Did the Order know all along? Did the previous Commanders know all along and hide that fact from the world?

Perhaps he should have known; it would have taken just that sort of raw power to defeat Dizzy. Now he knew why Sol never removed the headgear; not keeping that mark covered would get him hunted. It also explained the mismatched eyes, and the gruff unsociable exterior that kept most people from getting too close. But Gears were ruthless demons, vicious enemies of humanity, weren�t they? They didn�t eat human food or bleed or� or love anything� or did they? How could a Gear seem so� so� so human? He had seen the other�s wounds, and they bled red blood, not the black ichor that ran in the bodies of other Gears. They had eaten together on many occasions, and after everything that had happened, he couldn�t believe that the brunet felt absolutely nothing for him now. Sol� How..? He can�t� I� Denial didn�t get anywhere when the harsh truth was staring him straight in the face. The bulky metal accessory fell limply from his trembling fingers.

In a flash, mismatched eyes flew open, only they were both red now, and he knew that the expression he was wearing on his face was a big mistake, but failed to fight the fear that came from years of living in constant trepidation of Gear attacks. He tried to tell himself that it was alright, that the American wouldn�t hurt him, but he couldn�t fight the building terror down. He could feel it paralysing him as it wound itself around his spine, and he simply stared, too stunned to even speak. He opened his mouth to say the other�s name, but no sound came out. He tried again, and managed a whisper this time.

�Sol..?� he tried tentatively, voice a hoarse whisper. �I�� But what was he going to say? He didn�t even know what to think, let alone what words he could utter aloud.

Sol stared at the look of shocked terror on the blond�s face, painfully reminded of why it really had been so long since he�d last spent any extensive amount of time with a person: it kept him out of fixes like this one. All of a sudden, he felt angry -angry at himself for being the world�s most foolish genius many times over, angry at the boy for being utterly unable to leave well enough alone, angry at the universe and everything in it for keeping him alive this long-, and with the rage came that familiar rush of power and bloodlust that he had always feared and tried to suppress. That was why he had designed the headpiece; he feared the things he could do in those moments when he completely lost control of that voice in his head that screamed �Kill! Kill!! KILL!!!� with maniacal fervour.

Before he even realized he was moving, he had the other pinned to the wall by the throat a few inches off the floor. The impact with which that willowy body had hit the hard brick of the wall had the boy choking out blood as a hairline crack formed in the painted beige surface. Dilated eyes blinked slowly as slender hands reached up feebly to close around his wrist, and he tightened his grip in a rush of malevolent violence, watching detachedly as the human struggled for air, struggled to say something that might save his life before his pitiful existence was extinguished by a crushed windpipe. He snarled ferociously at that hopeless attempt.

�S� Sol�� The words were faint, and the effort it took to say them was apparent. �P-Please��

Azure eyes looked weakly into his own, and suddenly, it was a different place, a different time. He could taste the dust, smell the carnage on the wind, and a slender blond�s blood felt exactly the same way it did on his hands over eighteen years ago. �Ky�� No. What had he done? What was he doing? It wasn�t real; it wasn�t supposed to be like this. He staggered back; his head hurt. The other�s lithe body slid limply to the ground with a soft, sickening thud, and the smell of human blood was suffocating in the dry air. He screamed as raw pain seared through his entire being, holding his head in his hands. This was wrong, all wrong. He needed to go, to get away from this place. It wasn�t supposed to hurt. The world wasn�t supposed to turn out like this. He turned and ran, grabbing the only things instinct said were important -two pieces of red metal lying nearby in a large pile of cloth- and leaping out the nearest exit into the deserted concrete jungle outside.

Ky watched as the Gear backed away with his hands gripping his head tightly, and tried to move, tried to reach out to touch the person he suddenly found he didn�t know how to stop loving as the other screamed in such agony, but he didn�t have the strength. His entire body hurt; it was difficult to even stay conscious. He tried to call the brunet�s name even as the man spun around, grabbed the cotton sheet on the bed with their clothes and his sword in it, and tore out of the room like a man gone mad, but he couldn�t make his voice work; it all hurt too much.

He collapsed weakly to the wooden floor, still trying to call out to the brunet. Because he remembered now. He remembered sixteen years of living and then fighting in a bloody war, of trying to change an impudent and boorish American knight, of trusting a rival and a friend to do what he never had the time to do. He remembered everything now, and he knew he couldn�t let Sol go because the man wouldn�t come back, because even if the older man was a Gear, he was still and would always be Sol, and now, he�d never get a chance to tell him that it really was alright. The room hazed over, and he finally let go, slipping into the soothing oblivion that was quick to embrace him.

*�� *�� *�� *�� *

A/N: The title refers to the song entitled �One Step Forward, Two Steps Back� by the Desert Rose Band. You don�t have to hear the song to catch my drift, right? I hope you�ve enjoyed it thus far, and please TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. Also, this is the un-beta-ed version, so if you find any mistakes, please inform me and I�ll look into it ASAP. Thank you.

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)
- 2
- 3
- 4
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