As Your Majesty Wishes

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" LeLouch raises his head from the monitor and leans back against the chair, glancing at the man standing to attention in front of the door. He doesn't even try to suppress a small smirk. It's 2 o'clock in the morning, yet Orenji-kun managed to get back into his uniform while having him waiting less than five minutes since he called. Or maybe he just slept in that.

"Come in, Lord Jeremiah". The man closes the door, and walks in, stopping before the table, waiting for his orders. LeLouch joins his hands in front of his face, elbows on the table, and leans his chin over them, looking upwards to Jeremiah's eyes, the normal one and the one hidden beside the orange half-mask. The man looks back with nothing but proud attention and simple, matter-of-factly, trust. It feels interesting, to have this kind of trust from one of the few to whom LeLouch has never lied since the begininning, one who always knew what Zero was capable to do.

"Lord Jeremiah... will you always obey my orders?" he asks, tilting slightly his head to the side.

"Of course!" Jeremiah replies eagerly, as the mere fact LeLouch is questioning it is almost offensive. "I live only to serve you, as I lived to serve your gracious mother. I won't fail this time, Your Majesty!" LeLouch smiles at the eagerness into his voice.

"Good." The boy stands up, and walks around the table, to a stand in front of the taller man. "Because I have orders for you now". Jeremiah straightens up even more. "Tell me whatever you wish me to do for you, Your Majesty".

"That's the right spirit..." LeLouch chuckles lightly, before reaching to grab the collar of the uniform and pulling the man down a little, enough so he can whispers next to his ear "Kneel down. Undo my belt".

Jeremiah looks at him, a quick flash of confusion passes over his eye, and then is replaced by a knowing, ready gaze.

"Yes, Your Majesty..." the deep voice, the tone of it, send shivers up LeLouch spine, as he watches the cyborg knight kneel slowly in front of him, and reach for the hem of his trousers.

Gloved hands pull the belt open and out its holes, then pause, resting lightly on the boy's thin hips, awaiting for orders. LeLouch swallows, eyes locked into the man's intense gaze. For a moment he's tempted to order him not to look at him, but he doesn't. He's straining hard against the confining clothes. "Come on. I want you to pleasure me". His voice cracks just slightly, which annoys him, but Jeremiah seems not to pay attention to it, he answers with the same words of before, again making something weak into LeLouch's legs. Damn, he didn't think he was going to be that affected... Nimble fingers open his trousers, and quickly enough his erection is free. Jeremiah pulls the glove off his right hand and the next second LeLouch takes in a sharp breath, as the hand closes over his straining shape, pumps it slowly. He watches as the man leans his face closer, till he can lick the flesh, and then he has to close his eyes, just to have them fly open again, fix on the ceiling at the wet warmth enveloping him. Soon enough his efforts to keep silent are defeated, and he groans, moans even, reaching to grasp the table border to support himself, as he's worked up, high, fast...

Suddenly, the wonderful warmth leave place to cold air, LeLouch's last moan becoming a strangled sound. The boy looks down, angered, tears from the denied pleasure tingling his eyes. This time he's met with an amused grin.

"I didn't told you to stop, I-"

"Don't speak". The command tone is laced with such over-confidence that LeLouch finds himself closing his mouth, more out of surprise than anything else. The action makes Jeremiah's grin even broader. His hand is still next to LeLouch's groin, he reaches inside the half-dishevelled trouser, to caress the boy's balls. LeLouch clenches his teeth.

"Turn around. Take off your trousers. Your Majesty" The last two words sounds like they're wrapped in velvet darkness.

What the hell am I doing?! The words echo distantly in LeLouch's mind. He can feel Jeremiah's stare on his back, it makes every hair on his body stand up, almost panickingly. And yet he's pulling down his trousers, together with his underwear, he bows to take them off one leg, then the other, he feels horribly self-conscius, but he can't stop. He wonders if that's how his Geass make people feel, somewhere deep into their mind. Once the trousers are dismissed on the floor, his hand moves up to his shirt's buttons, and then they stop there. He hasn't told him to completely undress... what should he...?

"Very good". He hears the voice down beside him. Jeremiah must still be kneeling, or crouching, beside him. LeLouch wants to turn and glance behind so bad, but the strange spell that voice has put him under restrains him from doing so. He's now the one awaiting for orders. He wants to see what will happen next.

Something rests lightly on his buttock, a hand, a cold metal one this time, makes him bit his lower lip at the cool sensation, and at the same time crave for more. His cock hasn't softened a bit, and is weeping for attention. The hand massages his ass, slowly, as the other one, warm, caresses his leg from ankle to inner thigh, scratching, then down again. He rocks, pushing back into the touch on his ass, before Jeremiah orders him to stay still. He tries to.

"Spread your legs". Again, the voice allows no protest. Which is absurd, really, given the positions they are, Jeremiah is just one of his man, LeLouch owns him...

The position LeLouch is now is just one of extreme need. He does like he tells him to, a small flushed, smile on his lips as he hears an appreciative sound. Jeremiah's hands grabs his buttocks and spread them, and again the boy's breath is caught into his throat at the mix of excitation and fear for what will happen next... then suddenly something hot, wet, good pushes into him from behind, and at the same time the warm hand takes him, stroking hard and fast as he's desperate to be. He hasn't been forbidden to scream, at least, and he does, as everything is erased in the maddening pulse that goes back and forth from his rear to the tip of his cock, back and forth, back and forth again, till the tongue is replaced by a painfully cold finger, "Come, Your Majesty" and LeLouch releases, hard, his come painting a long line on the carpet.

He sinks down, his legs unable to support him any longer, and he's welcomed by strong arms. Jeremiah sits on the floor, petting the boy into his lap till he regains his breath. When he does, LeLouch stares at him with more than a little annoyance.

"I'm almost disappointed, Lord Jeremiah" he says, coldly. He feels the man's body stiffen, but when he opens his mouth to protest, he silences him with a finger.

"You haven't left me the time to fully explain my orders. I'll be merciful, this time, and give you another occasion to fulfill them, so listen closely".

LeLouch shifts into Jeremiah's lap, so that his bared rear presses against the man's groin, hard as he imagined. He leans back, his head on Jeremiah's shoulder, he turns to speak against his neck.

"Pleasure you, my knight".