Escape

Dia de los Muertos


Disclaimer: As with all of my other fan-fics, no, Robin, Amon nor any other characters from “Witch Hunter Robin” are mine. They belong to Yatate Hajime, Murase Shukou, Takahashi Kumiko and a host of other people... not including me. I wish they were mine… but… no. I’d LOVE to get paid for doing this… wouldn’t you?

This story came about as I was trying to think of a good one-shot to write as a Halloween treat for some friends. This idea just seemed to leap out at me. I’ve been writing so much yaoi recently, I thought it would be nice to try something different for a change. It’s been AGES since I’ve done anything het so, let’s see how out of practice I am.

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It had been five years since the fall of the Factory, five years since they’d escaped the ruins, only to be separated in the aftermath. He’d searched for her, desperately, needing to know that she was safe; to no avail. All trace of her had been swept away in the destruction.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. The first year went by virtually unnoticed by everyone… except him. Sure, her friends missed her. They still talked about her, but usually in hushed tones and only when he wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. What he felt, they knew, went deeper than simply missing her presence. There was a void in his life now, an inescapable chasm filled with loneliness and despair. She had been more than just his partner; she had been the part of him that he’d denied for most of his life, the part that flourished in the light. But, he never told her, never found the courage to let her know how he felt about her.

Now, she was gone and he was left with nothing but an empty shell and his darkness… his all-encompassing darkness. Even the familiar was no longer a comfort to him. His was a lost soul; stumbling through a world of strangers… unable to find his way home.

As in most days, he dragged himself back to his room, barely managing to make it through the front door as exhausted as he was. He’d forgotten to eat again today, finding the entire process extraneous. He had more important things to concern himself with. Though no longer a member of STN-J, he still managed to assist them on occasion and today had been one such occasion. It was a way to forget… if only for a moment, though thoughts of her permeated every corner of his world. Forgetting was never an option open to him. He knew she would haunt him forever.

Tossing his keys onto the desk against the far wall, he noticed the small light in the corner of his computer monitor flashing, indicating he had a message from his brother, the only person to know to contact him this way. It had been weeks since he’d last heard from Nagira. His heart leapt at the thought that maybe, this time, the news would finally be positive. Maybe, this time, they would finally be able to locate her.

Robin.

She would be twenty-year’s-old now. He wondered how she might look, still keeping the image of her at fifteen locked away in his mind. She was beautiful then, an enigma… full of innocence, yet controlling a power far beyond her years. What might she look like now?

According to Nagira, there was a rumor floating around cyberspace that Robin had been spotted somewhere in Mexico. It was as unlikely a place as they could imagine, but… what better place to disappear than somewhere no one imagined you would go? According to Nagira’s message, a flight had already been booked for him and ground transportation and housing already arranged. “Find her, brother,” his note concluded. “Find her and find your happiness.”

Grabbing a few necessary items, all feelings of fatigue were forgotten as Amon dashed out the door, heading for the airport. If there was a chance that he would finally find Robin, he didn’t want to waste any more time.

When he landed in Coahuila he was told that he’d arrived at a very fortuitous time. The citizens of Mexico were in the middle of celebrating one of their favorite and most universally well-known holidays.

Día de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead.

A driver had been dispatched to take him to his hotel, a small, two-story, sand-colored stucco building along a crowded street. Tucked into his pocket was the map Nagira had sent him, with detailed instructions on how to find the local cemeteries, though until he’d arrived and heard about Día de los Muertos, he couldn’t fathom why Nagira had chosen to highlight the cemeteries. He’d been afraid to think about it… refusing to consider what might have been the logical answer. There HAD to be another reason Nagira wanted him to know where all of the cemeteries were. Día de los Muertos was that reason.

Night fell on Coahuila with a thunderous roar. As the darkness gathered, revelers spilled through the narrow streets holding candles, bottles of tequila and bouquets of marigolds. Children and adults alike sported skull-like masks. Raucous music played and the people laughed and sang, dancing wildly in a procession toward their chosen cemeteries.

Amon followed one group, swept along in the human current, oddly fitting in dressed in all black. There was no sign of her. No matter. Another parade of people was heading in another direction, toward a different cemetery. Joining their group, Amon again allowed himself to be pushed along with the flow. But, again, there was no sign of her. A third group and a third cemetery yielded no more luck than the first two and his heart began to feel heavy in his chest.

Just when his frustration was about to surface, a glimpse of gold caught his eye and he spun to follow it. It wound its way through the crowd, gliding in and out of the mass of people as easily as though they weren’t even there. He chased after it, like a cat entranced by a butterfly as it fluttered away. When she reached the edge of the crowd, his golden temptress stopped.

He knew it was her. He didn’t know how… he just DID.

Long blond hair cascaded down her back, unbound, and highlighted even more by the stark black of her dress. She was taller, shapelier than he remembered, though the dresses she wore back then were intended as a way to discourage the kind of thoughts he was having right now. He meant to call out her name, but no sooner had the thought crossed his consciousness; she turned around, facing him. There was no mistaking, even in the harsh light of the streetlamp hovering over her… the color of her eyes, the turn of her mouth; the shape of her face.

It was Robin.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, sensing that she was being followed. The hair on her arms stood and her skin tingled in apprehension. Then she saw him… but… it couldn’t be. Behind a group of children in calavera masks and La Catrina costumes there stood a man… a man that bore an uncanny resemblance to the one she’d loved… and lost.

“Amon…” his name fell unbidden from her lips as flashing dark eyes bored into her. He fought his way through the sea of people, struggling to get to her. Frightened, she dashed away, running through the headstones and revelers in her attempt to escape. It COULDN’T be him.

Then, a hand closed around her forearm, whirling her around. “Robin.” The sound of her name falling in a choked gasp from the man’s lips startled her. With both hands against the stranger’s chest, she tried to push away, to break free from this nightmare. Dark blonde hair whipped around their bodies as she struggled with her assailant, fighting to get away. His other hand grabbed her shoulder and gave her a rough shake. “Robin!” There it was again. How could this person know her real name? She hadn’t used it since she’d left Japan. Could it be? Could it REALLY be?

Her struggles ceasing, slowly, her face rose, features curtained behind the fall of dark gold. When her eyes finally met his, she took a sharp breath. “Amon,” she whispered, still unwilling to believe what she was seeing. Delicate fingers reached up, tentatively, to brush dark hair away from the man’s face. “Amon,” she repeated, her brain trying to convince her heart that it really WAS him.

He leaned into her touch, relishing the way her fingers felt against his face. They traced his eyebrows and over his cheek, lightly brushing over his lips. He nipped at the exploring digits, sucking them into his mouth as Robin watched, fascinated.

“Amon!” she cried, finally accepting that it was him. Without further thought, she flew into his arms, her lips sealing against his in the kiss they’d both been dreaming of for so many years. They kissed impatiently, grasping at each other in desperation.

Bodies pressed together, Robin took a step back to keep from falling. Amon followed, refusing to release her. Across several graves and up against the door to a crypt they moved in slow motion, lips hungrily seeking the other’s, hands clutching. Robin’s body thudded heavily against the concrete door, the breath knocked from her as she clung to Amon. Suddenly, they were falling. The door to the crypt swung back on corroding hinges, creaking in shrill protest as the weight of the two bodies forced it open. Robin landed on her back amidst the pebbles and leaves with Amon sprawled over her. When she’d regained her composure, Robin began to giggle, the sound of her laughter surprising Amon.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worried that he’d hurt her in their fall.

“I’m fine… no, I’m better than fine… I’m… amazing,” she replied, dreamily, her fingers idly toying with strands of his hair. “I can’t believe it’s really you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe I finally FOUND you,” he replied.

Untangling themselves from one another, they struggled to stand. Light from the moon outside filtered in through the partially opened door as well as through the cracks in the walls and roof, bathing the room in an eerie white glow.

There were names inscribed on plaques hanging from the walls and a large concrete casket dominated the center of the crypt. Robin moved away from Amon, running her fingers over the inscriptions. “So much history,” she whispered, touching each marker reverently.

Amon caught her arm, spinning her around to face him again. “Robin…”

“Do you know what Día de los Muertos is?” she asked, unexpectedly.

He shook his head, startled at the sudden turn of events.

“It’s a lot like Obon, really. Día de los Muertos means ‘Day of the Dead’. It’s an old Aztec tradition celebrating the one day of the year where the dead can come back and be among the living before having to go back to the beyond. That’s why it’s such a party. Tonight everyone here is celebrating with those they had lost.”

His fingers tangled through her hair, pulling her face to him. “I thought I’d lost YOU,” he whispered.

Her eyes sparkled up at him. “You have NEVER lost me, Amon, though I did think I’d lost YOU.”

It took them a few moments to chuckle at the irony.

“Then I suppose it’s only fitting we celebrate this night as well, since we’re both back with the one we thought we’d lost,” Amon observed, in his usual stoically logical way.

Reaching back, she pushed the door of the crypt closed, plunging them into darkness as she melted back into Amon’s arms. “I like the way you think,” she murmured, whispering a small prayer of apology to the occupant or occupants of the crypt for disturbing their eternal rest. This WAS Día de los Muertos, though, so they really might not mind so much.

Turning to focus on the candles scattered among the stone bricks of the crypt, one by one the little wicks burst to life, filling the room with a soft glow. Amon reached out, taking her chin in one of his hands, turning her to face him. She looked up, suddenly shy, and the sight of him, illuminated in the candlelight took her breath away. Though it had only been five years, he looked visibly older… yet still so seductively beautiful. He’d always BEEN beautiful to her… but now, it was as though his added maturity intensified his attractiveness. A candle crackled, distracting him.

“Not very romantic… I know,” she admitted. “We could go back to your hotel…”

Her suggestion was cut short by the heat of his lips, sealing against hers once again. “No,” he barked, as gently as he could, “Waited long enough…not waiting any longer.”

Her body contoured to his as he lifted her, sitting her at the edge of the concrete casket. One hand slid up her leg, along her calf, over her thigh, drawing her skirt up at the same time. Falling to his knees, he placed worshipful kisses on each area as he exposed it, following the path of her skirt until he’d reached the juncture of her thighs.

“Oh, don’t…” she pleaded, hands fluttering around the bunched up material in her lap, suddenly uncertain.

But, Amon was deaf to her pleas, his mind already envisioning the earthly delights her body had to offer. Rising to stand over her, he grabbed the hem of the skirt with both hands and drew it up, past her hips, her breasts, over her head; until she sat there, completely naked save for her plain cotton underwear. Pulling her legs up, she attempted to hide herself from him.

Dropping her dress to the side, Amon unclasped her hands from around her knees, easing her limbs down as he leaned forward to kiss her stomach. Involuntarily, she moaned, bringing a very slight smile to his face. Hooking fingers into the top of her panties, he drew them down slowly, accompanied by her whimpers of protest, until the piece of white cotton was pooled at her ankles. Lifting one of her feet, he freed it from the restrictive material. Then, placing his hands behind her back, he drew her to the very edge of the casket top, forcing her to open her legs to accommodate the fact that he was standing between them. Placing another kiss on her stomach just above the dark blonde curls, he reached behind her again, this time unsnapping her bra. Her small breasts sprung free as he tossed their binding to the floor beside her dress.

Trailing his tongue over her flesh, he took one of the small globes into his mouth, suckling at it like a hungry infant. As his tongue ran over the sensitive flesh, Robin’s body responded, arching forward, toward Amon’s, with a cry. His hand covered her other breast, kneading it and toying with the hardening nipple. Switching sides, he took her other breast in his mouth as she ground into him, her fingers threading painfully through his hair.

Hurriedly, he ripped his own shirt off in a frenzied rush to feel the softness of her skin against his.

The touch of his body against hers made her shiver with anticipation, his hard angles against her soft curves somehow matching perfectly. Reaching between them, he ran a finger along the juncture between her legs, catching some of her moisture and making her moan, as she fell open to him brazenly.

“Amon,” she panted, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe.

The finger remained where it was, moving in tiny circles as her hips shuddered at his touch. He could feel the small nub hardening under his ministrations as her whimpers amplified. He teased it mercilessly, each stroke extracting pained little cries from her.

Bending into a crouch, he leaned forward, flicking the tip of his tongue over her most sensitive part and making her scream out at the unexpected pleasure. Holding her open he worked at the small kernel, licking at it, then sucking it into his mouth; nipping at it with his front teeth as she writhed beneath him. Leaning back, he toyed with her, tickling at her entrance with the tip of one finger as her hips jounced, frantically seeking a connection.

She was so wet that no sooner had he placed his finger at her entry, it slid in to her core. Her body arched toward him, hips leaping off the casket to grind against his hand. He added a second, then a third finger, sliding them in and out of her as her juices pooled copiously beneath her hips. With three fingers embedded within her, he used his thumb to circle the small hooded nugget that would be her undoing. With a cry her legs began to tremble. “Amon!”

“It’s okay, Robin. This is natural. Just let it happen,” he assured her. Her hips ground against his hand as her climax overtook her. “Amon!” she screamed, her body jerking forward to slam into his chest. Pulling his fingers from her, he held her close as the waves of ecstasy washed over her. Spasm after spasm rushed through her body as she gasped for breath. Her head rested on his shoulder, arms locked tightly around his back and her hair thrown across their bodies like a veil.

He listened to her breathing, labored at first, but slowly working its way back to normal. Her heart thudded against his chest like a frightened animal. He held her to him, luxuriating in the feel of her soft skin. Now that he’d finally found her, he was in no hurry to separate himself from her. After a while, when she’d finally gotten her traitorous body back under her control, she pushed him away from her.

“Robin…” he called, confused.

Struggling to stand, she shoved him further away, before falling to her knees in front of him.

“Robin, what…?”

“I want to do something for you,” she admitted, shyly.

“You don’t have to…” He tried to get her to stand but she was adamant.

“I WANT to.” Unzipping his pants, she tugged them down his hips, slowly revealing more of the tantalizing flesh she’d been dreaming of for so long. Suddenly, his hardened length leapt out at her, unfettered by underwear. She stared at it for a moment, unsure of what she should do. It was bigger than she’d imagined and the thought frightened her. But, her curiosity won out. Touching the object in question with a single uncertain finger, she traced its length, circling around the head before sliding back down to the root.

“Ooh,” Amon grunted, his head falling back, her feather-light touch sheer torture.

She raised her head to look up at him and smiled. Focusing on her explorations again, her bravery increased. This time she wrapped her hand around the protruding body part, giving it a light squeeze. Again Amon groaned, louder this time. Afraid, she let go. “Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, grabbing for her hand and placing it back on his throbbing shaft. With Amon’s hand over hers, she allowed him to guide her, showing her how to give him pleasure. Together, their hands slid over his shaft, massaging it into readiness. Robin’s eyes widened as she watched it grow, lengthening as it hardened further. Her fingers felt sticky as she realized she’d touched the clear fluid leaking from the tip. Circling her thumb over the head, she discovered that she could make Amon’s knees buckle with just a touch. That knowledge sent a surge of power rushing through her. SHE was in control. This was HER decision. That knowledge alone dispelled all uncertainty she might have felt. She’d dreamt of making love to Amon for years. Now… she would make that dream a reality.

Without thinking, she leaned forward, hesitantly running the tip of her tongue over the head of his shaft and he was forced to reach behind him to brace himself, lest he fall. “Robin…” he gasped. Encouraged by his response, she licked the head again, this time with more passion.

“Ungh,” was all he could manage to utter, as his legs threatened to turn to jelly. Tipping back, he fell against the side of the casket, the heavy concrete serving as a brace to keep him from crumbling to the ground. Shuffling forward, Robin buried her face between his legs, taking his shaft into her mouth and letting it slide as far down her throat as she could. His whimpers were music to her ears, positive reinforcement that she was doing something right.

Her head bobbed, as she slid over his length. His fingers curled over the edge of the casket, his knuckles turning a ghostly white as he gripped the concrete tightly. He wanted to grab her hair, but he didn’t want to frighten her. So he allowed her these manipulations as he hung on for dear life. For someone who had lived such a sheltered life, the girl was certainly talented. She was bringing him with her mouth, even though he fought against it with every fiber of his being. He had to stop her or this encounter would be over before they could get any further.

“Stop,” he pleaded, to deaf ears. Tugging at her with arms that felt like ramen, he pulled her away from his shaft. “Stop, Robin.”

Her eyes were filled with confusion… until he laid her on the casket top, climbing across to kneel between her legs. Lifting her hips, he positioned himself at her gateway. Meeting her eyes, he gave her one last chance to change her mind. As much as it would kill him, if she decided she didn’t want this, he would let her go. But her eyes reflected nothing but love and acceptance in the muted glow of the candlelight. Her arms reached up and pulled him down to her as she braced for their joining.

The world could have ended the moment he sank into her and neither of them would have given it much thought. He reveled in the snugness surrounding him and she reveled in the hard length filling her. They really HAD been made for each other, to fit together so perfectly; like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. For Robin, there was a fleeting moment of pain, but it was gone in a flash, instantly replaced by the euphoria of finally coming together with Amon in the way they had both envisioned so many times in the past.

“You okay?” he asked her, concerned.

She smiled up at him, that same sweet, innocent smile he remembered seeing on those very rare occasions back in Japan and his heart thudded crazily in his chest. Delicate fingers reached up to trace the curve of his jaw as her lips sought his yet again. As they settled into the kiss, he began to move within her, making her moan against him.

Her insides clutched at him, squeezing his shaft relentlessly as he drove into her. He had wanted her first time to be tender and leisurely, but now he realized it had been wishful thinking on his part. He’d wanted this too much, waited for it for far too long. It would only be a matter of minutes before he could no longer hold back the waves of emotion already crashing at his flood gates. In his mind he promised her that he would be slower, gentler the next time they made love. He promised that he would show her just what an incredible experience it really was. But this time… this time… he just needed release. His need screamed at him… shrieking like a banshee. It had been denied for too long…it would not be denied any longer.

“Robin,” he choked, burying his face in the flow of golden-brown hair spilling over the edge of the casket as his hips continued to jerk into hers.

She smiled, taking pleasure in the way the weight of his body lying prone on hers felt. Her hands grasped his waist, sliding up, over the muscular contours of his back, now slick with sweat. She licked the shoulder in front of her, savoring the salty flavor of Amon’s skin and closed her eyes.

Then, to Amon’s surprise, a hint of mischief overcame her and she rolled them over on the wide casket top. When they stopped moving Robin was sitting astride Amon, her hips doing a small dance against his. One hand reached back to brace herself on his thigh as the other pressed flat against his abdomen. Positioned this way, she rode him, her body bucking, her hair whipping back and forth, so wild and free… so unlike the Robin of his memories. The Robin Sena of five years ago had certainly been a little girl in comparison because the gloriously wanton creature straddling him was most definitely a woman.

His hands closed around her hips, steadying her, evening out her pace so that he could match it with his own thrusts. Falling forward, she braced herself above him, grinding her hips deliberately into his. She licked a trail up his chest, swirling the tip of her tongue around one of his nipples before closing her teeth around it. A strangled gasp tore from his throat as his hips jerked in response. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Gliding her tongue across his chest, she repeated the process with his other nipple, receiving a similar reaction. Then, she backed away from him, allowing him to slip from her body as she sat back on her haunches to look at him. Amon let out a growl of frustration. He was so close. How could she pull away NOW?

Sitting up, he grabbed her around her waist, pulling her back onto his lap, startled when she reached down and guided him back into her. Wrapping her arms around his back, she began to move, dipping her hips in time with his thrusts. “Robin…” he groaned, his completion eminent.

“My love…” she answered, placing a light kiss on his forehead before nipping at his lower lip and sending a shower of sparks racing throughout his body. Her movements quickened, until her body was a blur against his. Their cries filled the crypt, the heat of their coupling warming the cold stone and concrete. With a shout she came, her body twitching uncontrollably against his, the walls of her channel contracting around him, sending him over the edge as well.

“Robin…” he shouted, crushing her to his chest as his shaft pulsed madly, the milky white threads of his being jetting into her.

“Amon…” she responded, her voice made low by their ardor, almost sultry. She wrapped herself around him, showering kisses in his hair and along his neck. She made no move to disengage herself from him this time. She could feel his fingers toying with a strand of hair at her back. Leaning back, she looked down on him. His head followed her shoulder, as he leaned heavily on it, struggling for breath. Reaching up, she brushed his hair back, the long black strands damp and matted around his face. He looked at her then, her face suffused with light and love, radiant in the candlelight, and he knew that he had finally found his way home.

Gone was the young girl who’d appeared on the doorstep of STN-J five years ago; lost in the rubble of a life that used to be. In her place was a woman of incomparable passion and beauty. This was Robin. The Robin of his heart… HIS Robin.

Anywhere she was; that was home.

The sounds of the outside world slowly drifted in; breaking through their reverie and coaxing them back toward reality. But the reality wasn’t so bad. They were together, locked tightly in each other’s embrace and the world was beginning to look like a brighter place.

Día de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead. The one day of the year where the dead could come back to this world and celebrate with the living. They’d each thought the other lost forever and somehow, at this time, in this place… the forces of nature conspired to bring them together once again.

“The dead celebrating with the living,” Amon thought.

How appropriate.


~Owari~