Hearts of Darkness, Hearts of Light

Title: Hearts of Darkness, Hearts of Light

Author: FioraSilverWing

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Yaoi, Language, Flashes of rape (this chapter)

Author's Notes: I know I asked for five reviews before I posted the next chapter... But it doesn't seem that I'm going to get them, and I don't want to lose those who actually did review. So, for the whole three reviews I got, thanks! They really lifted my spirits. Especially Naria Lacour de Fanel's, and I really appreciate Anguipes' suggestions. She gave me the motivation to actually look up the codes for italics, and as for the spelling of 'cum vs. 'come'... I had been debating with myself all through this story and ultimately agreed. Thus, the spelling 'come' will be found throughout the story now. For all who didn't review, shame on you! This is an extra long section and I hope everyone enjoys it. I know there will be at least one 'Poor Dilly!' comment however. All I can say is, it gets better, I promise! Since the next section is a bit shorter, I'll only ask for three reviews this time. That's reasonable right? Right?! Anyway, on with the story!

Email: draconicgeisha@hotmail.com


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Dilandau stalked down a corridor of the Vione. It was sometime during the middle of the night and he was not pleased. Dressed only in lose black pants, a mostly unbuttoned white shirt and socks, he sought to walk off his frustration. The ship was nearly empty, one reason for his simple clothing, due to the fact that the soldiers had been given a vacation of sorts. The men had gladly accepted such a gracious gift, most leaving to visit friends and family. Dilandau's Dragonslayers included. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, giving them a week off, time to rest up and relax for once. That had been four days ago.

Four days with nothing to do but wander the ship and terrorize the few underlings that had stayed. Three days to go before anyone returned... Possibly more if they took the weekend as well. Three days until he could get some attention... He'd gotten entirely too used to having his Slayers around when he needed them and his body was protesting furiously, demanding some sort of relief. Dilandau wrinkled his nose at the thought of doing it himself. Where was the fun in that?

Stopping, he leaned back against the cool wall heavily, pounding a fist against the metal. It wasn't fair... He'd surely explode before they came back. And just the thought of them returning sent his mind into thinking about what he could do to them when they were spread out on his bed...

He groaned in frustration, letting his head fall back, eyes closed. Damnit, it wasn't fair at all... The soft rustle of fabric caught his attention, drawing his mind away from naked young flesh and he jumped at the chance to be distracted, even if just for a moment. Opening his eyes, he looked down the long hallway, just able to make out a dark cloaked figure. Well, his luck wasn't getting any better... Closing his eyes again, Dilandau sighed.

"Well, well. Folken. To what honor do I owe finding myself in your presence?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.

Folken allowed himself a slight smirk, moving closer to the young Lord. He'd not sought Dilandau out, but he'd been rather bored and unable to sleep. With the ship holding so few people, he'd decided to indulge himself with a walk. But now that he'd stumbled upon Dilandau, perhaps he'd have a bit of fun with him. Dilandau's reputation was well known, and without his precious Dragonslayers, he was probably feeling a bit... tense.

Dark eyes drifted down Dilandau's form, mildly surprised by his choice of clothing. Normally he wasn't seen in anything less than full uniform, armor included. The fact that he'd simply thrown something on helped to prove Folken's suspicions. As did the visible bulge in the front of his pants... Evidently Dilandau hadn't noticed, for he didn't move or attempt to hide it; he simply continued leaning against the wall, lost to his thoughts.

Folken moved ever closer, making sure to keep silent. If he'd known Dilandau was close, he'd have been more careful. Surprising the arrogant young Lord would be most entertaining. As would seeing him lose a bit of his control. Dilandau always felt the need to dominate. Imposing his will on others. One reason he and his Dragonslayers worked so well together.

Dilandau allowed himself a sigh as the silence dragged on. Evidently Folken had left. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut. There wasn't really any other explanation for the blessed quiet in Dilandau's clouded mind. Thus it gave him quite a start when a deep voice sounded right next to his ear, his eyes snapping open. Gathering his composure quickly, he prepared to snarl and push Folken away. How dare he... His thoughts ended in a sharp gasp as Folken's gloved hand pressed firmly up against his groin, calling his attention to his state and reminding him once again of his needs as well as the original reason for his walk.

"So quick to judge Dilandau... Didn't you ever learn that it's sometimes better to hold your tongue? I just might be able to help you with your problem." Folken's fingers gave a slight squeeze to accentuate his words, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. This could be fun indeed...

"W-what makes you think I'd want your help, Folken?" Dilandau hated the waver in his voice, belying the harsh tone. It didn't exactly make him sound imposing. And the fact that his hips arched towards the touch didn't help matters at all. Traitorous body...

"You and your pride. Foolish. Things could be so much easier for you if you asked for something for once." The gloved hand continued to move, rubbing over the imprisoned length, ever so gently bringing it to full hardness and taking the last of what little sanity Dilandau had left.

Crimson eyes fluttered closed, full lips parting in a soft gasp, followed by a barely audible whimper. "Damn you Folken..." Biting his lower lip, Dilandau pushed off of the wall, pressing his form tightly to the older Lord's, leaning up to catch his lips in a hungry kiss, succeeding in stunning the other man, at least momentarily.

Quickly re-gathering his wits, Folken pressed back against the silver haired youth. It had been quite a while since he'd had a lover of any kind, and now that his body was reminded of the sensations, it was quite happy to feel more of them. 'Maybe I need this as well..' Pulling away from the kiss after a few moments, he turned abruptly, moving away from Dilandau, leaving the youth to stare after him. Folken paused for just a moment to look back over his shoulder.

"Well, are you coming?"

'Not yet...' Dilandau kept the comment to himself with a smirk, slowly moving after the Lord. "And just where are we going?"

"To my room of course. Unless you have a fetish for rather public displays?" Folken resumed walking.

Dilandau managed not to blush. He didn't care how public his sex life became. Letting someone watch him was a whole different matter however. To cover his embarrassment, he pouted fetchingly, though the effect was lost on Folken who didn't look back. "Why are we going to your room? Mine is closer." Folken might look good disheveled on his sheets.

"Maybe, but I want to go to my room. Oh, and Dilandau? I'm going to be the one taking you. Not the other way around."

Dilandau stopped mid-stride, his eyes wide, face incredulous. "What?!" Folken simply kept walking, serving to add to Dilandau's sudden anger. "You? Take me? Thinking rather highly of ourself, aren't we, Folken."

"You're not exactly in a position to argue, now are you? You need what I can offer you. Does it bother you so much?" The older Lord's voice was calm, level. Reasonable even. Exactly what Dilandau didn't want to hear. Unfortunately, Folken was right. Dilandau had no one else to go to. Perhaps he could just get it over with...

Reaching his room, Folken opened the door, stepping in to the darkness. Not once had he looked back to see if Dilandau was still following him or not. Let the boy come if he wanted. He'd have his fun... But Dilandau might not get the relief he'd assumed was offered.

Dilandau had indeed continued to trail behind the other man, seething all the way. He always had to make things difficult, nothing with him could ever be easy. The silver haired youth peered into the dark room, pausing at the doorway. With light behind him and nothing but shadow in the room, he could see nothing, so he was naturally quite surprised when a hand snapped out to grab him, yanking him into the room. With a yelp, he was tossed unceremoniously onto Folken's large bed.

"Damnit Folken-" Before he could finish his sentence, or even his thought, Dilandau found himself pinned down on his back, scarlet eyes glaring up at the dark shadow that was Folken. Warm but hard lips quickly consumed the younger Lord's, claiming them, leaving no room for misinterpretation. He was to be the older Lord's bitch and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Dilandau's head spun, and it took him a moment to register that the lips had left his, a deep, vaguely dangerous voice speaking low, close to his ear. A cold shiver ran through his form once his mind processed the words.

"I'm going to use you Dilandau.... I'm going to treat you just like you treat your little Dragonslayers... You're going to scream for me." A feral grin twisted the larger man's lips.

"I don't s-scream..." Folken's grin widened at the waver in the younger man's voice. Not so sure of himself anymore... He'd have to be careful of course... Too much conflict and Dilandau's already fragile mind could take an... unfortunate turn. He didn't need to lose the young man on the battlefield.

Of course the risk would make things even more interesting...

"You will simply have to learn then. Or perhaps you'll remember. I've heard you scream before you know." Dilandau's jaw clenched at the words. He didn't like being reminded of his weaknesses.

"Bastard. I'll-" Once again Dilandau's words were cut off, this time in surprise as his shirt was neatly stripped from him, buttons scattering merrily across the floor. Only three or so had actually been buttoned, but he certainly hadn't expected Folken to rip the shirt open.

With the material gone and more flesh bared to him, Folken smirked, leaning down to nip at the flawless expanse, his hands, both flesh and metal, running down Dilandau's sides. How tempting it was to give a careless flick of his wrist, letting cold metal fingertips glide serenely over the smooth skin, leaving streamers of red, marking him. Such marks would be hard to explain away however...

And so, the hands continued on their path downwards, shifting to the pants obscuring a complete view of Dilandau's form. They paused only for a moment at the slender hips before gliding in, gripping the top and pulling down in a long smooth motion. Folken gave up his prize, a nipple he'd been tormenting, to sit back and remove the offending garment completely, taking the socks as well. They were tossed carelessly into a pile with the discarded shirt.

Dilandau lay under the larger man, unusually quiet, his eyes wide, disbelieving. Was this actually happening to him? He was spread out on Folken's bed, being methodically stripped and prepared, as if he was some feast for a hungry animal. And perhaps he was. The look in Folken's eyes... Not even Dilandau could dismiss such a look, or halt a slight shiver of trepidation. Something wasn't right here...

But the recapture of his nipple sent most thought from his mind. His body was only too glad to respond to the touches. Arching, he sucked in a breath, wary of the metal arm, but the danger of it added a tang of pleasure all it's own.

"Nnn... Folken..." Snapping from his seeming trance, Dilandau lifted his arms, curling a hand into the other's hair, attempting to pull him closer as he arched. Folken wanted him to be a wanton little toy? Well, he could play along... For now at least. Until he got his chance to take back a bit of the control which he so loved.

As if Folken had any intention of letting such a thing happen... Teasing the bud of flesh without mercy, he looked up at the young face, quite enjoying the look of rapture. Dilandau would look exquisite in the throes of passion. Batting the hands away as they reached for his clothing, he sat back, again relinquishing the nipple, but only after he'd worked it into a throbbing pebble.

Taking a moment to simply look at what was offered, the older of the Lords began slipping from his own clothes, rebuffing any attempts Dilandau made to help. Annoyed, Dilandau finally dropped his arms, just watching, shifting uncomfortably. He'd been ignored for far too long.

A hand snaked down slowly, reaching for his arousal, seeking at least momentary relief. Perhaps he could entice Folken into speeding his ass up. Dilandau jerked his hand back as soon as his fingertips brushed along his needy shaft however, a shocked squeak leaving him as his hand was slapped sharply.

Growling in a rage, Dilandau glared up at Folken. "Damn you! I'm not your plaything you know. I came here for one reason! Get on with it or I'm leaving."

"Not my plaything?" Folken chuckled softly, slipping his pants off, letting them slide slowly over the edge of the bed, keeping his perch atop the smaller man. Once freed of the restrictive garments, he leaned down, barely an inch from Dilandau's face, plenty close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in the crimson eyes as he spoke. "Oh, but tonight you will be..."

Any protests Dilandau may have made were cut off as Folken all but sucked the life out of the younger man through his lips. He'd make sure that there was nothing for Dilandau to complain about. At least initially... Perhaps he'd play nice and be gentle. Not his usual style... But it could prove to be even more entertaining in the long run. Maybe.

Easing up on the kiss, he looked down at Dilandau, smirking slightly, running his flesh hand down the smooth chest, lower to skim over the flat stomach, finally letting his fingertips trace over the rigid flesh.

The action earned him a cry of pleasure and a sharp arch, Dilandau's hips leaving the bed. "Ahh! Folken..." Thoughts of rebelling and trying to take back the control that he felt was exclusively his began fading. If Folken could relieve the bloody ache that was tormenting him, he might just relinquish control. Once.

"So eager... and responsive. I shall quite enjoy playing with you." Dilandau squirmed under Folken, teeth gritted, snarling. "Or perhaps I'll just have fun screwing you senseless." Shifting slightly, the older man reached for the small table set next to his bed, opening a drawer to pull out a small jar.

A soft whimper escaped the silver haired Lord as Folken's touch was once again taken from him. He was going to explode, he just knew it. Half lidded crimson eyes watched the larger man as he moved, holding the jar in his metal hand, dipping his fingers into the scented oil held inside.

The slicked fingers moved down between Dilandau's legs, nudging them apart, sliding farther in, slowly, one finger tracing downwards, seeking the hidden entrance. It was found easily and quickly breached, the searching digit sliding deep without hesitation. A second finger soon joined the first, moving, stretching, heedless of the small gasp the ministrations drew.

Dilandau's eyes squeezed shut, attempting to keep himself relaxed. He'd never been taken before, but he certainly knew how things worked. He'd been the first for most of his Dragonslayers. Though it seemed like Folken was rushing a bit... Even though Dilandau treated his men harshly, accepting nothing less than perfection, he was a caring lover when he took them to his bed. Forceful perhaps. Dominant; absolutely. But he took his time, ensuring that they were ready for him.

Which seemed to be something that had slipped Folken's mind. He barely added a third finger before removing them, setting the jar on the small table. Turning his attention back to the waiting body, he used the last of the oil on his hand to coat himself, gripping Dilandau's hips and pressing forward.

Wild eyes snapped open, looking up at Folken. He couldn't really be serious... The man was rather generously endowed... And though at other times such a thing would hardly bother him, he might even have a bit more fun if things were different, he was rather worried... He'd hardly been prepared at all. This was going to hurt.

Before the youth could voice his concerns, Folken thrust forward, forcing himself into the virgin body below him, ripping a sharp scream from Dilandau. The younger Lord bit down harshly on his lower lip, trying to stifle the sound, small whimpers escaping. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears threatening. He was sure he'd felt something tear...

Folken on the other hand, was more than delighted. "Ah. I see you do indeed remember. Good." His flesh hand wrapped itself around Dilandau's length, rubbing slowly, forcing the organ to remain hard despite the pain. Gripping a hip with his metal hand, he gave another thrust, pushing himself the rest of the way into the youth, drawing another pained cry.

It stung... So badly. He was sure he wouldn't walk normally again for weeks. He didn't even want to imagine the damage that had been done. Trying his best to ignore the pain, relax himself and possibly gain some sort of pleasure from the experience, Dilandau forced his eyes open, looking up at the elder of the two.

"Something the matter Dilandau? You seem to be in pain... But you're wonderfully tight you know... Perfect..." Folken rocked his hips, allowing a soft groan, the movement only sending hot spikes of pain through Dilandau's already abused body. A cold smirk met the soft whimper and wince. "I could have given you exactly what you wanted. Been gentle with you. But you couldn't even ask for that. So now you'll get what I see fit to give you. Now, now. Don't cry." Folken raised his hand, wiping at the tears that had finally spilled down Dilandau's cheeks, the touch absurdly gentle considering his previous actions.

Dilandau turned his head away from the hand, closing his eyes, simply praying that it would be over soon. He hated the tears that flowed down his face, hated the man on and within him. Hated himself for showing such weakness. Folken's next words, however, drew a low sob from the snowy beauty.

"I'm only treating you like you treat them. Don't you want to know what they feel?" He wanted to tell the other man it wasn't true. He didn't hurt his lovers... did he? He made them beg... He used them for his own pleasure, taking them to his bed whenever he felt the need. He never asked. He ordered that they be there. But his men enjoyed it... Chesta. Chesta had cried. As he was crying now. How did he know that Chesta wasn't begging just to get it over with, as he wanted to do?

Folken pulled back to thrust mercilessly into the now limp form below him. The fight seemed to have left the younger Lord, the fire within him dimmed. Another cry answered the movement, and a whimper followed each thrust after. It was all very pleasing to Folken. Dilandau, however, felt as if he'd gone numb. The pain was still there, though it had faded to more of a dull throb. The barest hint of pleasure came from Folken's still moving hand. How could he ever forgive himself? His men... They looked to him... Another sob wracked his form, a single coherent thought drifting through the haze that was his mind. Chesta... I'm sorry.

He didn't know how long it lasted, Folken moving above him, in him. Speaking to him, telling him how wonderful he was, yet all the while reminding him that he was being used, just as he used his men, as he was claimed harshly. The metal fingers marked him, cutting into the skin of his hip as Folken lost himself to his own pleasure. Dilandau was beyond caring. He almost came, soon after Folken. Almost was granted the relief he'd been seeking all along, but just before he could reach his climax, Folken clamped his hand tightly around the base of his shaft, denying him, pulling forth yet another harsh cry, full of the teen's frustration and pain.

Folken was still a moment or two before he moved away, removing himself from his broken lover. The youth hadn't moved, sprawled over the bed as if he'd fallen there. A fallen angel... The analogy suited him. Fallen from grace. He felt dirty as Folken coolly informed him that nothing more was required of him, that he could gather his things and go. So like the words he'd first said to his Dragonslayers when he'd leave them, ignoring their hurt faces and pleas to stay.

Without being aware of doing so, he'd dragged himself up from the bed, gathered his clothing and left the room, not even bothering to redress himself. Luckily, he met no one on the way back to his room. How would he ever explain how he came to be naked, blood running down his leg from his hip and his punished rear, mingling with Folken's seed, carrying his clothing in a careless ball. Slipping into the blessed peace of his room, he let the door slide shut, dropping the clothes.

A bath... He needed a bath.

He never made it to his little bathroom however. Leaning heavily against the wall, he found himself huddled down in one corner, weeping, no longer caring about the tears that dripped from his face. He was numb inside... Empty. And that ache was still there to further torment him.

Curling one hand about his own shaft, he stroked quickly, bringing himself to an unsatisfying end, sobs rather than moans announcing his climax.

Finally, exhausted, Dilandau slipped into a dreamless sleep, finding some measure of peace. Stray tears still lingered on his cheeks, blood and fluids, both his own and Folken's left to dry on his pale skin. His last thought was of his Dragonslayers, hoping they could forgive him... Praying that they took the weekend for their vacation as well... How was he ever going to face them?