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The Mother, The Sister, The Son	By : DrkVrtx Category: +S through Z > Soul Caliber Views: 7931 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Calibur, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Irresistible Invitation
"...Mother?"
Light poured down from a perfect sky, bathing the figure that descended from on high. Her arms were spread wide, and blessed light seemed to burst from her very pores. Patroklos covered his eyes, unable to bear the intense light any longer, but he heard the whisper of his mother as she came down to him.
"Look, my son", she bid him. Patroklos peeked slowly from between his fingers, his eyes aching from the intensity of the light he had forced himself to glare into. Spots of darkness hung in front of his eyes, dancing sluggishly across his vision. But there she was: his mother.
Her form was quite literally angelic. Wings spread wide from her back, moving slowly through the air without stirring a breath of wind. Golden hair hung down the centre of her back, long, lustrous and twisted into a single, thick braid. Patroklos could not help but stare as it swayed from side to side in a non-existent wind. Heat rose to his cheeks as he finally noticed his mother's manner of dress. Like the goddesses of the Greek pantheon, his mother's garb was...sparse. He could not look anywhere without being graced with a view of a curvaceous form, crafted with time and care, formed to perfection.
"Mother..." Patroklos looked down and away, feeling the intense heat rising to his cheeks. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and his throat a little constricted. His chest sang with the music of his heartbeat.
"Mother, is that truly you?"
"My dear son, who else could it be?" she said to him kindly, her voice soft and melodic, a soothing tune which calmed him, just a little.
"Look at me, my son. It has been too long since I saw your eyes", she bid him.
Steeling himself - a strange thing to have to do, he thought - he lifted his eyes and found his mother's face. A mask of translucent, lilac glass covered her face, but he could just about see her lips, the lips that had kissed him goodnight on the forehead as a child, brushing aside his mop of blond hair. He would wait all day for that moment, when her cool, moist lips would touch his skin and she would whisper softly in his ear, wishing him the sweetest of dreams. Now, her lips were as he remembered them: small, but curved slightly at the corners in a smile that had seemed to persist through all manner of emotions.
"Mother, I have missed you", Patroklos told her, arms falling to his sides and the weight of the blade and shield he wielded in her memory falling to the ground with a clang. Her feet alighted at last upon the ground and she approached with measured footsteps.
"Come, my child", she said with compassion in her voice, her arms welcoming him. He hesitated, stepped forwards, then hesitated again. His emotions were skewed; as he looked upon his mother, he wasn't sure if he would cry or...In the end, he stepped forward into her embrace, practically throwing himself onto her, lest his hesitations get the better of him.
She stood strong, barely moving as he stumbled onto her. Her arms circled him, one rising to the back of his head and cradling him to her shoulder. Patroklos found himself both at comfort and incredible discomfort. It had been years since he had embraced his mother. Her breasts pushed persistently into his chest, firm yet soft, a combination he couldn't fathom. He had wrapped his arms around her waist, and as she cradled his head against her shoulder, he looked down and blushed furiously as the cloth that girded her loins fluttered in a wind he couldn't feel. Instinctively, his hand moved quickly to cover his mother, but the awkwardness of the situation gave him pause. And then, as he turned his gaze away, her single, golden braid filled his gaze.
She laughed, a beautiful sound that carried through the place he could only describe as 'heaven', and he came to himself when he heard it.
"Just as you always did, my son", she spoke into his ear. He didn't know his face could burn, but so it did.
"You loved my hair as a child", she said softly. "I would lie beside you when I put you to bed, and you would play with it until sleep took you. Do you remember?"
"...I remember", Patroklos croaked, his mouth dry and his tongue thick and heavy.
"I kept it long and straight and perfect for you, my son. I loved to see the joy on your face as you pushed your fingers through it".
"I...I did...I loved your hair, mother..." he said.
"'Loved'?" she echoed him, "surely, you have missed it so, my dear son".
She gently separated their embrace, but she took his hands in her own as they parted. His eyes widened as the mask before her face began to dissolve, carried away on the wings of the wind he had yet to feel. Her eyes shone and her smile was small, but brimming with emotion.
"I have missed your touch, my child. Won't you indulge me?"
"Mother", Patroklos started, looking away, "I am grown, a man now..."
"And as a man", his mother spoke, with a hand turning his face back to her, "you can appreciate your pleasure that much more".
She peeled the gloves off his hands, revealing his calloused digits. She dropped them to ground and he forgot about them immediately. Taking his hands in hers once more - he marvelled at their softness - she smiled and spoke.
"Come, my son. Let us lie in the grass. You always loved the scents of spring".
He did, she remembered everything. She turned him around, and he saw a field of tall grass existed behind him. He breathed the deep, clean scent as his mother lead him into the depths of the grass, trailing his hand through it. A patch of clear space appeared before them, and she smiled warmly as she turned to him. Without another word, she sat, facing away from him, comfortable as she stretched her legs out before her. Slowly, she lifted the feather-decorated headdress that crowned her, placing it neatly beside her. Finally, she reached behind her head to undo the braid.
"No!" Patroklos spoke, a little too loudly, quickly, and fiercely. His mother's hands dropped slowly, she didn't turn to him as she spoke, though her voice was soft.
"Come, my son. You have waited for so long".
Patroklos approached her tentatively, shyly. He lowered himself to his knees behind his mother, and slowly lifted his hands to the blue ribbon tied into the end of her braid. He released he hadn't been breathing when the ribbon eventually came loose in his fingers and drifted to the ground. Starting from the bottom of the braid, Patroklos gently loosened each of the plaits in his mother's hair. He slipped a finger between the plait and then delicately pulled downwards. Her hair was so soft and thick - his skin tingled with warmth and his whole body seemed to come alive even as he kept himself very still.
He reached the final plait at the base of her neck. Her hair flowed freely around his knees, spilling down her back, golden, thick and crying out for his attention. He pulled out the final plait, barely suppressing a groan that he knew not the origin of as his mother shook her hair slowly.
"Oh mother, it's so beautiful..." he said, his thoughts slipping from his mouth.
"Touch it, my son. Run your fingers through it. Breathe its scent. Hold it to your lips, my sweet Patroklos".
"Oh mother..."
His calves ached painfully as he continued to sit on his knees, but he found it more than easy to ignore. His mother's golden hair slid through his fingers; he combed from the base of her neck to the very tips, experiencing a pleasure he could not voice as the texture of her locks ran across his skin, leaving his hands blazing with warmth. He was ever so gentle as he gripped her locks in a fist and lowered his face to them, breathing in deeply the cleanliness of her hair and the scent of the wild grass surrounding them, a combination that he impulsively felt would suffice him for the remainder of his days.
With his right hand, he continued to comb through her wonderful locks. His left continued to gather hair into a lightly curled fist, his nose lowered to it and breathing deeply. Embarrassment warmed him as he eventually lifted the hair to his lips. Higher and higher he went, breathing in his mother and her scent, mingled with the freshness of spring. Reaching the base of her neck once more, he took her hair in both hands, parting it like a curtain to reveal the smooth, cream skin of her nape. He leaned forward, breathing deeply.
"Patroklos", his mother murmured as she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. "Mother, I'm sorry", he apologized in advance. He was intoxicated, drunk on her scent, hypnotized by the feel of her lustrous hair. He let it fall to hide the curve of her neck, falling in love with its silent, graceful movement. He took it up again in one hand, slowly pushing it to one side, his heart beating furiously as the sight of her slowly exposed nape set him alight. A little clumsily, he leaned forward and left his lips upon her skin for a moment.
"Oh, Patroklos", she murmured, tilting her beautiful head forwards for him, "again, just once more".
He obliged ever so happily, showering her soft skin with light kisses, the scent of her hair and body propelling him to a place where thought mattered little. He found his lips at her ear, lapping at the skin behind and beneath them. He rested a hand on his mother's shoulder to steady himself as his other continued to trail through her hair. She reached upwards and behind herself, resting her hand upon his jaw and guiding his lips. He kissed above her ear, his nose pushed against her hair, filled utterly with its intoxicating scent.
"Patroklos, come to me", she bid him with a heavy voice. "Oh come to me, my sweet son".
She guided him with a hand upon his wrist, and he sat beside her, facing the opposite direction. Lifting her face to the sky, she shook her hair and Patroklos was immediately and completely transfixed by the sight. He reached for his mother before he realised what he was doing, pushing his hands into the depths of her dancing locks as he found purchase at the back of her head. She brought her eyes to his and gazed into his soul. It was inevitable. With his hands at the back of head and entwined in her hair, he pulled her forwards to him.
Their lips met passionately and their kiss was deep and shameless. She moaned into his mouth and Patroklos felt alive. His tongue dived into her mouth with an intense hunger that ran through his entire being. Her hair set his hands ablaze and he pressed her into him. She yielded to him as his unbridled passion took control of his actions. With her right hand she reached behind herself and swept her full, flowing locks around to the front of her body; her left worked at Patroklos' clothes, eventually pulling him out from within his breeches. He paused as he came to the realisation of this development, drawing away from the kiss into which he had fallen so deeply.
"Mother - "
"My son, my sweet Patroklos, you are a man now", she said to him, "let me show you true pleasure".
He fell into her gaze, her eyes a purer blue than even the sky above, and alight with passion. But even still...
"Patroklos, it would please me so to see the joy upon your face", she said softly to him, "oh won't you indulge me, my son?"
He was transfixed and silenced by the curtain of hair that he now noticed before him. His mother shook it subtly as she tilted her head severely, placing her face beneath him as she took her hair in hand. He made a sharp intake of breath and his fingers clawed hard into the ground as she introduced him to a whole new world, wrapping him in her thick, long locks and slowly beginning to stroke him.
"Mother, no -" he groaned.
"Kiss me, my son", she bid him.
He was quick to comply. The sounds coming from his throat were alien, he didn't understand them and they scared him. He filled his hand with his mother's hair, supporting her head as they kissed. His idea didn't work too well. His body shuddered as his mother pleasured him and he moaned deeply into her mouth as an intense pressure began to build within his body.
He broke the kiss as a deep groan broke through his weakening restraints. His body was quickly slipping from out of his control, his legs bucking and his arms shaking even as he tried to support his mother's head.
"Mother, I can't -!"
She took control smoothly, without breaking the motion pushing him gently onto his back.
"Relax, my sweet Patroklos", she bid him. "Doesn't it feel good?"
"Mother -" his response was cut off by a throaty moan of pleasure. He filled his hands with his mother's hair once more, pulling her down to hide his embarrassment with a kiss. She obliged him for a moment, stroking him more quickly.
"Patroklos", she murmured in his ear, "isn't this wonderful? You and I...reunited".
"Mother", he breathed, his voice strained with impending pleasure, "Mother, I love you".
"My son", she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, "never leave my side. We can live together".
"Mother -"
"Shh", she said softly, drawing him closer to the moment of completion, "say yes, my sweet son, promise me your life. I love you so much, and - "
Patroklos let loose an earthy groan as he peaked, his body tightening up as pleasure flooded his being.
"I want to make you happy, forever".
Patroklos took a long moment to recover himself, his deep breaths punctuating the silence that had settled upon them. He opened his eyes, chest rising and falling, and took his mother's hand between both of his.
"Mother, I will never leave you", he promised with sincerity.
"Good", she replied quietly, brushing sweat-damp locks from his face
"The world has become a terrible place, my son. It is time. Let us purge it clean...together".
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The Mother, The Sister, The Son