Retrograde

Third chapter; and now, the promised smut.

---

For her. It was all for her.

All for her.

(and if he kept repeating it) (over and over and over) (maybe he'd believe it)

The sound of his zipper split through the silence that had settled between them, and Suzaku was very aware of Lelouch's eyes as he dragged it down past his navel. Watching, waiting, and going strangely still as he shrugged out of the sweat-dampened fabric, as he bared his body. As he rolled the flightsuit down over his hips and strangled back a hiss because he was hard and even that much felt distractingly good.

(why was he this hard already) (he was such a disgusting person)

He took a steadying breath and then stepped out of his flightsuit, not too quickly. Giving Lelouch plenty of time to look, to absorb, to memorize the lines of his body and -- the curve of his erect dick, and focusing his attention on Lelouch in turn. With any luck, seeing him aroused would relax the other boy.

And he wanted him to be very, very relaxed.

After all, this wouldn't hurt half as much if he was still bracing himself for it.

(so disgusting)

Lelouch certainly seemed relaxed enough when he reached out, only shivering ever so slightly as one hand settled on his trim waist, and Suzaku closed his eyes, feeling his way to the angled point of a bony hip, the soft flesh of a smooth thigh. Keeping his touch light and teasing even as his fingers found the first short coarse hairs.

"Oh..." Less relaxed but also breathier; excited, and no longer trying quite so hard to hide it. "Suzaku--"

(still saying his name)

It made him smile, small and faint. He would fix that. But for now, he just dragged his fingers through Lelouch's curls to find his cock -- and when the other boy gasped, he had to bite his lips to stop himself from doing the same.

Clinically, Suzaku supposed he'd expected it to feel just like touching himself, but he knew he wasn't usually so aware of how hot his own skin was and -- gods, he didn't think he'd ever been as hard as this. The sensitive skin must have been dark with pulsing blood. He opened his eyes to glance up at the other boy's face and was briefly rooted by his almost-tormented expression, by his lips bitten white and his eyelids trembling. It was almost sort of--

(no) (nothing) (it was convenient)

He chuckled, making himself genial as he murmured, "So sensitive. Look at you, and I've hardly done anything."

The words stung, of course -- they were supposed to. He let them, then soothed away the sudden tension in Lelouch's body with a quick heated kiss that shouldn't have worked as well as it did (as if he actually trusted this) (as if he wanted to trust this) and then, ah, a much more calculated grind. They were skin to skin now, and the raw sensation left him reeling, but it also made Lelouch moan again, just as helpless as before, that dark manipulative baritone voice stretched as thin as the skin of his cock. If anything, it was only more satisfying the second time around, and for an instant Suzaku wanted nothing more than to do that again and again until Lelouch shuddered and came, right there, pressed up against the wall.

Unfortunately, there were other things he wanted, too -- and the wall wasn't the best place for all of them. So he took a few seconds to recover from the dizzy rush of blood, then pried Lelouch gently away from the wall without ever breaking the kiss. He divided his attention between navigating the unfamiliar room and the other boy's too-soft lips, flickering his tongue over the seam of them and then, as he found the doorknob of what should have been his bedroom with one hand, plunging past them.

And Lelouch just -- let him, so uncharacteristically yielding. It was like he'd forgotten where they were, who they were, even the heavy chains keeping his hands secured behind his back -- everything but his basest desires.

Something about that settled heavily in his stomach, so (sexy) (cloying) unsettling, but Suzaku pushed his own feelings aside because that weakness was exactly what he needed.

The frame of the bed met his calf and he stopped there for a moment, just kissing Lelouch, just sucking on his eager tongue. With one idle hand, he traced the line of Lelouch's prone arm to his broad but fragile shoulders, his too-prominent collar bones, the dip between them and the smooth slender muscle of his chest. He found a nipple and pinched it, subtly too hard, so that Lelouch was forced to break the kiss with a hiss.

"Nnnn..." Lelouch's lips parted wetly over perfect white teeth and he struggled to find his tongue again. "Haah, Suzaku--"

He rolled the nub of flesh between thumb and forefinger, more gently, and what might have been a protest melted, faded, drowned and died. Suzaku said lightly, "Go ahead and get on the bed. I'll see if I can't find something for lubricant."

Which made Lelouch flush, but in his eyes there was something more than embarrassment, a searching kind of hope that Suzaku couldn't (didn't want to) identify. Then it was gone and Lelouch was backing up a step, moving around him to climb up onto the truly enormous bed. The dark-haired boy kept his eyes on the bedspread and his voice low, but he still sounded much too intent when he offered, "There should be a sword and scabbard under the bed, and -- leather oil, to keep the scabbard in good condition."

It should have been horrifying, sacrilegious, but all Suzaku could think was how very appropriate it would be to fuck him with greasy, pungent oil. "Thank you for the suggestion," he said thickly, and knelt to check beneath the bed, trying not to notice the sudden throb of blood in his own cock or wonder when he had become such a monster.

(as if he didn't know)

He found the chest. It was probably beautiful and expensive, like everything else in this room, but he opened it without looking and dug through its contents brusquely. As soon as he found the vial of pale amber oil, he shoved the chest back under the bed, straightening to follow Lelouch onto the mattress--

--and pausing on the edge of it, just breathing.

The dark-haired boy was resting uneasily on his bound wrists, a quaver in his long naked legs. He'd had a minute to collect himself, but collected was the last thing he looked. Glossy violet eyes, deeply and darkly flushed, his nipples peaked and his cock already glistening at the tip.

Suzaku looked down at the bottle in his hands and focused on uncapping it, pouring the oil thickly over numb fingers and warming it between them. From what he'd heard, this part was every bit as important as making sure a woman was wet first; otherwise, the sex itself could be painful.

(and the sex wasn't what he wanted to be painful)

So he was careful, careful to wait when his touch on Lelouch's knee made the other boy stiffen for an instant before he let his legs fall apart, careful as he followed the swell of Lelouch's thigh to his very, very hard dick. He paused, glancing up at Lelouch's face, and watched his expression contort as he carefully, carefully skimmed just the shaft with a knuckle, avoiding the swollen red tip and the taut sensitive skin of his sack. Had he ever been this hard before? Suzaku smiled crookedly, then dragged his lubed fingers down, down, down until...

There. He held his breath, tracing the puckered flesh lightly, and then rubbed over it with his thumb, oiling it. Trying not to think about how alien it felt. Cautious again, he pushed gingerly against the tight ring of muscle with just a fingertip, listening with half an ear to Lelouch's suddenly-reedy breathing, and was startled when he met very little resistance.

And oh gods, but it was hot inside. As hot as Lelouch's desperate cock, as hot as any woman he'd ever been with.

Intensely, mind-erasingly hot.

Suzaku swallowed and nudged his fingertip deeper, past the first and then the second knuckle, somehow managing to remember to keep it just curved enough so that his nail wouldn't scratch the delicate tissue and trying not to choke at how incredibly, incredibly smooth the walls of muscle were.

(it was going to feel so good) (just as good) (maybe even better)

Shit. He drew his finger all the way out and then brought a second to join it. Again, they slipped in easily. Lelouch's body all but swallowed his blunt fingertips, hot and welcoming, and this time the visceral thrill of it made his eyes roll back. He couldn't help imagining the same soft smooth sweet pressure on his dick.

He had lost track of Lelouch's breathing, but when he finally listened for it again, it wasn't quite what he expected. Thick, but shallow. And the expression on the other boy's face was closer to discomfort than pleasure. He didn't seem to be in any actual pain, but he wasn't enjoying himself, either.

Suzaku froze. Had he done something wrong? Had he gone too fast, added his second finger too quickly? No. No, how could he have been so stupid. This was supposed to feel good (he needed it to feel good), and he knew it should have, knew it stimulated a man's--

Ah. He gazed at Lelouch's face for a moment, and smiled. He really was an idiot, wasn't he.

Gently, Suzaku pulled both fingers back out. Then he turned his hand palm-up and pressed inside again, slow this time and searching. Roughly two inches in, he curled his fingers and felt it, or felt something: the previously-smooth surface had gone crinkly and there were tiny ridges. He stroked the pads of his fingertips over that spot, curious, and right away Lelouch flinched, cried out, and his labored breathing became something much more sultry. There; that was the spot. That was the gland that made this feel good.

He spread his fingers apart, briefly stretching the tight passage, and then he pushed, firm and smooth, over that same inch of tissue. He glanced up the length of Lelouch's body, over his thick dark cock, and watched his face contort with every calculated stroke. Watched him briefly try to clench his teeth against it and took especial satisfaction in making him whimper noisily through them. Watched his face go blood-red as he finally, reluctantly, maybe even helplessly lifted his hips to meet the tiny thrusts and fuck himself on Suzaku's invading fingers.

"Would you like something more?" Suzaku asked, his voice husky but still recognizable, and still almost as flat as he wanted it.

Lelouch turned his cheek into the pillow and said nothing, but could not seem to hold his eager hips still; they still answered every thrust of fingers. Suzaku allowed his humiliated silence for a moment, but then he smiled and withdrew them -- slowly, so that the other boy would have plenty of time to feel it as they left him empty.

He said, "Would you?"

Violet eyes cinched shut and Lelouch struggled futilely to regain some form of composure. Intellectually, he was one of the strongest people Suzaku had ever known, but physically, he was weak, unable to resist tired muscles or keep his breathing even, completely incapable of controlling any part of his body at all. And now, when it was aching with need, he was powerless to deny it. Sheer stubbornness kept his mouth shut, but after only a few seconds he was lifting his hips again in obvious, undeniable supplication.

Please, he might as well have said. Please fuck me. Do it now, do it hard, please.

It probably should have been pitiful. Pathetic. Sickening. To see Zero reduced to this. At the very least, he should have felt something like -- pride, or triumph. But there was only the vaguest, most distant sense of ugly satisfaction, and... an even uglier hunger. He could feel his belly tightening, that unmistakable ache between his legs, the blood pounding like it hadn't quite before. Lelouch's obscene display was actually turning him on, and he wanted--

(no) (no no no) (it wasn't supposed to feel this way)
(think of her) (think of what he did to her) (his finger on that trigger, his hateful horrible words)

(all of the things he did to deserve this)

Suzaku felt blindly for the knob of a knee, followed the swell of muscle to his hip and then traced the crease of his thigh, dug his fingers into coarse curls. Groped his way lower, and found the ready hole with one fingertip. Tried not to think about how slick and relaxed it was, or the way Lelouch went very still as he touched it. Tried not to hear the sound of them both panting.

(he wanted this so much)
(no, he didn't) (Lelouch did) (Lelouch did)

He didn't groan, didn't so much as gasp, when he touched himself to guide their bodies together. He didn't even tense as his tip slid (wetly) over Lelouch's (dry) skin. He concentrated on positioning himself against the puckered flesh, on pushing in, so light (so controlled). He felt nothing he shouldn't have.

(think of her, just her) (the dead weight of her body) (the light going out of her eyes)
(don't think about how this feels) (how it's going to feel)

It was hot.

(her hand in his, still warm, still alive)

It was really, really hot.

(her head, lolling gently to the side)

And tight. Tight already. Tighter than he'd expected.

(her voice fading away) (her eyes slipping shut)
(it felt good)

He was sweating, winded, breathless, and he wasn't even all the way inside yet.

(that terrible beeping sound)

Shit, now he was.

(why did it feel so good)

Suzaku rested his forehead on the other boy's heaving chest and shuddered with the incredible effort of holding still. He wanted to move, needed to move, to snap his hips back and thrust in again, faster and harder -- but if he let himself, he knew he was going to

(it wasn't supposed to feel this good)

come, oh gods.

Distantly he was aware of a thin animal sound, and then Lelouch's knee, hiking up his leg to find purchase on his hip, to hold him in place with what little strength it had. "Su-- Suzaku--" Imploring him. Begging for this.

Just like his burning muscles were begging for it.

He took one last shivering steadying breath and found his legs again, found the strength to drag his hips back. Gritting his teeth because the friction from even just that was intense, Suzaku pulled almost all the way out -- and immediately drove back in, harder and faster than he'd meant to, wringing a cry from Lelouch's throat and very nearly making himself see stars.

So good, so good, too good.

Out, and then in again. In and then out. Lelouch was so tight it felt like he was fucking a vice, a sweet soft hot stunningly-yielding vice, and with every stroke he was more aware of all the other places where their bodies were grinding together. His cheek rubbing against the other boy's chest, that heel brushing the back of his thigh, and Lelouch's ragged breaths licking the shell of his ear.

In, out, in, out, in out in out in out. Quick, shallow, thirsty. It wasn't like him, but Suzaku was losing himself, losing his mind, forgetting everything he knew about taking it slow, making it last. The chains went chink chink and he just wondered why they weren't melting from the heat, the way he seemed to be--

--no. No, he couldn't let that happen. As foggy as he was, he still knew that much. He had to focus. Had to ground himself, had to remember what this was supposed to be.

Suzaku lifted his head and fixed his blurring eyes on the other boy's face, searching. Surely even in this moment, there must have been something, some smug cruelty, some cold trace of the man who had wounded her (wounded him) so deeply. Something he could cling to, could use to steady himself. But all he found were swollen lips and eyes so dark and hazy that the violet was just a narrow fevered rim around their pupils.

(if only he could keep Lelouch like this all the time, too intent on his own pleasure to hurt anyone ever again)

He wet his lips and reluctantly pulled out, shuddering, so that he could get his hands beneath Lelouch's thighs and pin them to his chest. Sightless eyes swiveled slowly to find his face, then went wide and rolled back when Suzaku shoved in again, sheathing himself, oh hell, completely in the other boy's tight hot soft body and making him cry out.

"Ah, ah, ahh--"

In, out. Suzaku managed to get his breathing under control enough to ask mildly, "Does that feel better?"

He knew Lelouch heard the question because for half a second his jaw clenched, white with fury, but then the next thrust knocked it out of him and left his mouth slack. "--Ah, ahh, ah--" The tendons jutted out of his shoulders as his body arched -- no, arced, and he strained against his chains.

Out, in, out, in, yes yes yes. Every thrust so much deeper, every thrust punctuated now by another needy moan. He dug his fingers into the delicate flesh on the underside of Lelouch's knees, panting, and came so close to not noticing when the pitch of the other boy's noises began to keen.

"Ah," he gasped, "ah, ah, ah--" Short and sharp and newly-urgent. His lips glistening with the saliva he couldn't swallow.

Close. Very close. The new angle was obviously too much for his extremely limited stamina, Suzaku decided with vague affection (revulsion), and immediately arrested the motion of his own hips.

The reaction was practically instantaneous: "Su... Suzaku, oh gods..." Lelouch actually struggled against the grip on his thighs for a senseless moment. "Suzaku, move--"

It wasn't easy or comfortable to hold so still, buried two inches deep in the other boy's body, but Suzaku stayed where he was, slowly bringing his heartbeat back under control. "Is there something you want?" he asked coolly.

Lelouch stared up at him with glassy eyes, panting. Little beads of sweat were standing out on his forehead. The head of his cock was wet with precum, coated in it. So very, very close. Eventually, he managed to whisper, weak and thin, "Please."

As if he really thought it would be that easy. If he'd had the breath to spare, Suzaku might have laughed. Instead, he ducked his head to brush his lips low over Lelouch's jaw, the pale column of his throat, all the way down to his chest and one tight nipple. Then he opened his mouth and sweetly, ever so sweetly, curled his tongue around the nub of flesh.

He knew how it felt to be teased, what Lelouch would have to imagine when he was this hard, and sure enough the other boy moaned through his teeth, head tipping back. "Suzaku -- Suzaku, don't, ah--"

"I could just leave you like this," he suggested, jabbing the tiny indentation in Lelouch's nipple with his tongue. "You wouldn't even be able to touch yourself."

A hungry shudder twisted beneath milky skin. "You -- you bastard," Lelouch hissed mindlessly. "What do you... what do you want from me..."

Suzaku knew he was smiling, but it didn't quite feel like a smile. "I think you know what I want," he said.

The other boy went very still. For an endless moment, his chest heaved silently. But then what little Suzaku could see of his expression shuttered. "--Please, my lord."

Somehow, it wasn't quite as satisfying as he'd thought it would be. Suzaku hitched his strange smile up another notch, and said, "There. That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Whatever response Lelouch might have made to that was choked off by a moan as he rolled his hips out another inch and then in, in, yes. First just once, then again and again. Each one deep, each one powerful, and by the fifth Lelouch was stiffening again and crying out hoarsely, his body jerking as he thrust himself into the open air. For a few tense seconds, the orgasm tightened him up inside almost painfully, and Suzaku hardly felt the first warm burst against his belly, thick and sticky, as he grit his teeth to keep from going blind.

He really only meant to hold on until Lelouch was finished. He really only meant to wait until he could pull out and take care of his own need. Because he'd never thought sex was all that much better than masturbation, and because he wanted his former friend to see how little any of this had meant to him.

But then the moment came, and as Lelouch fell back onto the bed, breathless from that small exertion, all the tension drained out of him and the too-intense grip eased into the most amazingly soft sweet yielding (so very, very yielding) thing Suzaku had ever felt. He couldn't help himself, couldn't resist just one shallow thrust, and then somehow he was pounding Lelouch's spent body into the mattress.

He -- he needed to stop -- needed to -- (but it felt so good) (so good to) keep moving

In, in, in. Faster, harder, deeper. His gnarled fingers on Lelouch's thighs were probably bruising them. In, in, in. Almost there, almost, almost, almost--

--there, that was it, just like that, ah, and the world went white with the force of it. Wave after wave of intense pleasure wracked his body and Suzaku shuddered, vaguely aware that he was coming (much, much) harder than he had ever come from (sex) (masturbation) -- anything before.

After several long seconds, he came back to himself enough to pull out, his softening cock slipping free with only the smallest jolt of numbed sensation, and then he just stayed there, resting his weight back on the heels of his palms and breathing.

Breathing.

(the room smelled like musk) (like sex)

So did he. Lelouch's seed was all over him, all over both of them. It coated his belly in pale streaks. Suzaku ran his fingers over the drying fluid and then wiped them off on his new quilt. Listening to the sound of his own heartbeat. Watching Lelouch's chest rise and fall with the deep even breathing of a sleeper.

"You said you'd serve the Japanese," he murmured to no one in particular, sliding carefully to the edge of his bed. "I hope you enjoy servicing one of them."

There was no reaction from the other boy; no stirring, no curling in on himself, nothing at all. Suzaku paused, gazing at him, and wasn't sure whether or not what he felt was disappointment. Then he forced himself to stand and turn away, heading for the open bathroom door.

---

The adjoining bathroom to his new chambers was probably rich and elegant. The counters were probably marble, the tub itself ivory; everything inlaid with gold or silver, everything in shades of deep blue. Because that was the color of the Knight of Seven.

Suzaku had always liked blue.

But he hardly saw the room. He wasn't interested in it. He was only interested in the glass shower stall set into one wall, and the soap that would hopefully be on a dish inside it.

He was very interested in the soap.

The sound of running water filled the room, and Suzaku tested its temperature. He stepped into the spray and closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to be the man who belonged in his new quarters. What it would be like to be the Knight of Seven. He supposed he would need new clothing. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Lloyd again for some reason. Something...

Ah, right. He had to apologize. He'd been very -- rude, when he'd taken Lancelot. It felt like years ago, maybe even decades, but it couldn't have been more than a few hours.

Funny, the water wasn't quite hot enough. He needed hotter water.

And more soap.

He didn't have nearly enough soap.

---

Did a bit of research for this, actually -- so if you're curious, the reason why Lelouch was so easy to penetrate is his arousal. If you're turned on enough, you're way more relaxed down there. La. (Also, the prostate really is sensible with your fingers; who knew!)