Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Character: Kanda

Timeline: After Headquarters moved. Definitely before Wisely drags him out to meet Alma again.

Warnings: swearing and masturbation

Author’s Note: Hell, I’m starting this off the most popular character. Enjoy.

“Fuck.”

It was a common word in his vocabulary. Fuck this, fuck that. Fuck you. Fucking everything. Particularly when he was angry, but even when he was in rare good mood, at least ten times a day he will say “fuck” to something or someone.

Such was the way of Yu Kanda, Exorcist of the Black Order. He was no saint. He prayed no prayers. He believed only himself and in fate. He hated too many things and liked only a few things. He lived to fight, and fight he would. He killed Akuma. To this day so far, he was the only one to kill a Noah and live to tell the tale. People called him a demon, the devil, dark, evil, et cetera. Was he human? They asked each other this quite often.

Of course—why would you ask something so fucking stupid like that? He breathes and pulses. He eats. He moves. He sleeps. If anything, saying “fuck” proved he was alive like the next person.

And all humans had needs. What, did you think he was celibate? Kanda may not give a fuck about many things, but he does not pretend that he doesn’t have needs. He just never calls attention to it.

Consider today; another mission, another task completed. The white-haired moyashi was good for one thing; he didn’t have to stay at shitty hotels or hijack trains as often. Into the Ark, out the Ark, kill the Akuma or find the Innocence, back into the Ark, back to HQ, report, and he was free. He isn’t bone-weary. He even had time to try and meditate.

There’s a time to sit still and think, and another time to do something. Kanda was not impulsive for the most part. Why waster your energy on that? Plans were always better. People were stupid because they got in his fucking way. Like idiot Allen Walker or idiot Lavi. Or his idiot General.

Too many idiots.

He could always leave and disappear, maybe. Fuck the Order and their purposes. But what of his own purpose? What would that be?

Some days, like today, he thinks too much. It ruins his meditation and he leaves in a cloud of dark that people could sense and avoid him.

Consider today; it went badly. Too many Akuma. Too many Finders died. He ruined yet another coat. He storms back and reports and then sits in the showers for a good hour. He nearly takes off the beansprouts head but Lenalee kicks him. Then Lavi steals his hairtie and he leaves in a flurry of beautiful hair and scowling feature.

Fuck everything today. Especially the stupid rabbit. He slams his door shut and paces.

Maybe he ought to meditate…no, he’s too angry. Train? That would mean dealing with people. Sleeping requires him to actually stop moving.

Kanda breathes and holds it. Blood hums underneath his skin, matching his heartbeat. He stops gnashing his teeth long enough to unclench his jaw. He rakes his fingers through his unbound hair.

“Fuck.” If only he had ordered a drink before coming here. He badly needs one after such a shitty day. Enough of people.

In one swift move he pulls his shirt off and tosses it over a chair, intending to find something more comfortable to wear. Hair soft like feathers brush his back and arms.

She had softer hair.

…and softer hands and lips…

His shoulders stiffen. Fuck, did he need this now? He can’t quell the images, vivid like a waking dream or vision. They curl around his mind and trace the contours, just like how hands once traced his body—

A glance over tells him that he locked the door properly. Laundry day was tomorrow. His golem was turned off, squashed somewhere underneath a bag. What did he have to lose? He wets his upper lip, sighs, and pulls off the rest of his clothing. He lies on his back on his bed, fabric touching his bare skin. His hair skims over his skin from the motion of his movement, tickling his skin until it settles flat.

Kanda counts his breaths until he reaches ten, licks his hand from fingertip to palm, and presses it over his groin. Desire rises, quickly and easily. Desire is of course everyone’s friend and needs little prompting; one touch would do it. He squeezes tightly once, twice, and then finds a rhythm of stroking. He keeps his eyes closed. His other hand alternates between clenching and relaxing, like his abdomen. From base to tip he caresses, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly, until he is quite stiff. Toes dig into fabric as he palms himself, his breathing no longer constant. His heartbeat pulses loud in his ears; he matches his stroking to it.

For a few seconds he can almost feel another body next to his. The press of skin to skin, of another’s hand on him. He utters a low moan and swallows. When he feels the first bit of moisture dripping out, he stops to roll over. Fabric rubs him, cool and different from his hand. He reaches past his cock to touch lower, to the smooth expanse of skin just underneath his testicles. Heightened senses spark as his finger just brushes the area and he barely manages to hold it in.

Fuck, he thinks. He’s close. He holds himself again and adds to this by pressing himself against the bed. It squeaks only a little, but nothing loud or distracting.

Rock, rock, squeeze, stroke, release, and repeat. Sweat gathers. The fabric is wet and warm, but his body is warmer. He bites his pillow, shoulders arching and buttocks tightening. A rhythm no longer exists; he simply tries to prolong this while he can.

“Yu…are you close?” And then a whisper from the past teases his ears. His hand falters and he jerks his hips slowly. The agony of waiting, waiting…

“Just like that—” He opens his eyes just as he pushes himself over the edge after a little more pressure. It explodes in a mixture of sensations that tingle from head to toe and he crushes his pelvis against his hand and bed.

“Ah.” Kanda, usually graceful, gets a mouthful of cotton and half-smothers himself as he strokes the last of his climax out of himself, breathless and sweating. Dampness covers his fingers and legs. He touches himself a few more time before he wipes his hand on the blankets. The anger was gone. The tenseness he didn’t know he had also left. There was only him, cotton, and the smell of himself on the sheets.

He rolls onto his back and kicks the top covers off. The warmth still lingers and so he does not bother to find new coverings as he closes his eyes to sleep.

“Fuck this day,” he thinks before tiredness fully settles in and he’s out.

Author's Note: There is no particular order that I'm doing these in. Next two have been written out; after that it's up in the air. Feel free to send me things you think I should write, like kinks. For example you could say "I want Tykallen in a forest with Allen topping Tyki". I can’t promise I’ll do them but if I like them then they’ll be done. (though I really might do Allen topping Tyki.)

Chapter Text

“This isn’t your first time? Aren’t you the man, moyashi.”

“Name’s Allen.” Teeth nibble on the cartilage that makes up the ear.

“Ow, that hurt.”

“Good.” He sounds quite smug, despite being naked from waist down. But then again, he’s straddling a stark naked Lavi, pinning him to the floor.

“AAAAllen,” Lavi whines a little, “this isn’t fair.”

“Mm.” Allen responds by swaying against him. He has very nice hips, Lavi notes. “You weren’t fair in the beginning, being so persistent.”

“I was curious!” He wants to kiss those lips, wipe off that damn smile.

“About my apparent lack of anything sexual?” The other sounds amused, rocking a little harder. “Did you forget who was my master?”

Lavi groans and puts his hands over his face. No, he didn’t. But how is it that Allen, younger than he, is possibly better at this than him?

How did they get into this situation? Lavi’s fault. He teased him, even managed to grab Allen by the hand and kiss him to show him what it’s like. He hadn’t expected the other boy to respond, kiss back, and then push him against a wall. Lavi asked how fast as he ever undressed someone; in mere seconds his clothes had been yanked off. What a devil. When Lavi managed to pull down Allen’s trousers and briefs, only to end up on the floor like this.

Allen is currently licking his neck, hands on his shoulders. And still rocking his hips, ever so slowly. The Bookman apprentice was quite hard; he could see Allen was as well. Saliva coats his chest now, and then there’s a puff of breath that sends him shivering down to his groin.

“I’m sorry, Allen…”

“Too late~” The licking becomes biting; that tongue rolls against a nipple. He stifles a moan.

“Can’t you at least take off the rest of your clothes?”

Allen seems to consider this, before he finally unbuttons his shirt. It slides off his slim shoulders and Lavi almost sighs in relief. The shirt gets tossed aside; Lavi uses this chance to lift his hands up, grab the other by the face, and slam their mouths together in a messy kiss. He shoves his tongue against another tongue; fingers grapple and for a moment Lavi almost can sit up. Then Allen reaches down to line their erections up and squeeze with the right amount of pressure for him to gasp and fall back. His knees have failed him. Allen Walker was still touching him. Intimately. Deliberately.

“You can’t win.”

The whisper seems to pierce his ear and sent a jolt through his heart. He hisses. Yep; he might as well give up this round. “At least…go harder than that.” He thrusts his hips to punctuate that point and is pleased to see the other flush.

“Fine. But I’ll make you come before me.”

“If you say so.” He doesn’t want to argue; he wants to feel good.

There no more words between for a while. Just the sounds of sighing, gasping, moaning. And squelching. Allen caresses the both of them with an experienced hand, while the both of them continue rocking against each other. Lavi massages Allen’s nipples with his thumbs, firmly pressing and pinching. It’s all for the look on Allen’s face, which he easily memorises.

The prediction’s right, however. Lavi comes first, with a guttural groan and a shudder as wetness seeps between them. He tucks his head back and breathes, mouth parted from pleasure. Only a few moments later, and then Allen follows, pumping his hips tightly before he lies down on Lavi, mouth on one shoulder.

“Told you.”

“Shut up.” He swipes damp hair out of his eyes. “Next time it’s your turn.”

“I’m not easy to play.”

“I’ll play you just like you played me, and more.” Lavi reaches his hand up to rest on Allen’s backside, lightly squeezing. Allen starts and knocks his head against the other’s chin.

“Go ahead. I’ll still win.”

A snort. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Chapter Text

3. First

Lenalee is not a prude. She was as inquisitive as any other person about relationships. The only things that stood between her and actually having relationships was her life and her brother. If she shared food with Allen, he would scream. If she meditated with Kanda, he would send more robots. If she allowed Lavi to flirt with her, he would shed all too many years.

She has thought about all three of them. She has hidden in her bedroom, touching herself whilst thinking of one, two, even three all at the same time. She has read enough and chanced enough glances to know the basics. And she is frustrated. Her dreams make her hungrier. Seeing them and not being able to make an attempt made it feel as if there was one thing in her life that would never be fulfilled.

Who ever heard of an Exorcist dying a peaceful death, married with children? She’s being realistic. People simply dealt with it themselves, or with each other.

But Lenalee couldn’t. She doesn’t think about marriage, only the satisfaction of a being with someone else. It couldn’t be with Kanda. Or Lavi. Or Allen. They were too close, too dear. She couldn’t do “it” with any of them and feel guiltless.

Yet one more night of clutching her pillow, stifling moans and sleeping in dampened underwear wasn’t appealing. She thinks for a week, then two weeks, her rational fighting with her cravings.

Tonight, she brushes out her hair and bemoans the length. She admires her form in the mirror and dabs on make-up. She wears a sleeveless dress the shade of midnight purple that only just brushes the top of her thighs, shorter than anything else she has worn. Is she actually pretty? Was this enough?

She walks out of her room, cloak over herself, with a hint of roses trailing her.

There could only be him. Right? He makes no pretence of just what he does. He sleeps with women. He likes beautiful things.

Him meaning General Cross Marian. Her heart still thuds nervously despite what she plans; has he only been with experienced women, those who knew what a man wanted? Would he turn her away?

But he has said she was beautiful and that she was already a woman. She could do this.

Lenalee slips off the flats. Time for the first stage of her plans: the guards.

She activates her Innocence and lets it carry her high. Soundless; only when she pushes it for more power will it make any noise. But she is not killing tonight. There is no point in that. She descends with force; the two guards see or here nothing as she neatly strikes them both on the head and then the back of the neck (thank, Kanda, for the lesson). A pause to make sure no one was around; then she picks both of them up and locks them away in a convenient closet. Before she closes the door, she forces a potion into both of them that promises to keep them asleep for two days. Overkill, but one could never trust the Science Department to have perfect potions. There were reasons nobody ever took them and had them all locked up. Oh, and the keys. Those she lifts from a pocket.

There is no need to deactivate her Innocence. Her boots were more beautiful than any shoes the world could make; they gave her confidence as they clicked while she walks forward and fit the key into the hole.

A moment of insecurity seizes her; what if he sends her away? What if he laughs at her?

“Are you going to stand there, Lenalee?”

She almost drops the key. How did he know it was her—

“Your footsteps are like no one else’s. You can come in.”

Faintly, she turns the key and pulls the door open. It’s well-furnished and well-heated, but only lit by a single light. There is the smell of wine, cigarettes, leather, and other things she does not recognize. She ought to say something, but words cling against her tongue, refusing to leave. She sees him seated on a couch at the right side of the room. He wears a robe that is falling open, no shirt, dark trousers, and no shoes. One leg is crossed over the other, and a glass is in his hand.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening.” She replies as she clicks the door shut. The key has fallen from her hands with a dull thud to the ground. She doesn’t care anymore. She’s in and he’s right in front of her.

“I know why you’re here.” At her expression, he simply takes another gulp from his wineglass. “Because you aren’t the first.”

“How would you guess?” She grips the edges of her cloak for support. “I’m not…I don’t—”

“It takes an Exorcist to understand another Exorcist. We live one day, and die the next. You hold it together well, better than some others.”

Her shoulders give a shudder.

“But even you need a time to not think about the future.”

Was she so easy to read? She presses a hand over her mouth, and exhales forcefully. So many tears, and still more tears. Keeping her world together is tougher than most people would think. It keeps her going, but self-motivation grows weary.

Lenalee doesn’t expect what was next. He stands next to her and embraces her. The folds of fabric smell familiar and oddly comforting. It’s not the first time she has been held by him; in the Ark, then after returning to the Order she had to keep him from leaving. Her feet suddenly feel heavy and she finds herself being lifted up and carried to the sofa and set carefully down. The General sits next to her, his gaze on her. It’s a slow, sort of examination by those eyes, eyes that seem to know her better than she knows herself.

She manages to not cry much; a few tears and then she breathes without hitching. He reaches out to pat her cheek.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Her fingers laced together on her knees. “I’m fine, now.”

“You’re afraid, though.”

Is he teasing her? No; one look at his face lets her know he is serious. Or, he could be playing into her weakness and letting her believe that he cares about her. If Allen is a puzzle, Cross was the ultimate enigma.

But she doesn’t care. He’ll take what she has to offer, and he won’t hold it against her.

“I am a virgin.”

“Everyone is a virgin, and then they are not. It’s more of a rite of passage. This religion we are under, it considers a woman’s virginity sacred.” He pours himself another glass, and then moves a second glass close. Dark red spills into it. “And if I were to take if from you tonight, you would be defiled in their ways. Impure.” He takes her hand and places the other goblet into it, folding her fingers around the stem.

“I am still heathen in their eyes.” It comes with nationality as well; her features are Asian, “exotic,” and random men have looked upon her like some object they could use. But Cross does not look at her in that way.

“But a woman, nonetheless.” He sees her at female and person. He sees her as a fellow Exorcist, but not as a close friend or comrade. That is why she has come to him tonight. “A woman who is not a child like some would believe her to be.” His hand strokes her arm through her cloak, slowly.

She sips her wine and rolls the taste in her mouth. Bitter at first, then a burst of fruit and finally a lingering of flowers. It is very good wine, unlike the bitterness of some other spirits.

“I think…” she steadies her voice. “I am ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I—” pause. “I would like for you show me what it is like to be with another.” She meets his gaze shyly, tongue heavy.

The smile he offers makes her stomach lurch, but not uncomfortable. He nudges her arm. “Finish that first.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

She obeys, tipping the glass and swallowing bit by bit. It sinks in quickly; but thankfully he only poured in a quarter, as if already knowing her tolerance. Still, she is warmer, and she has stopped shaking from uncertainty. A blush has settled in her cheeks, hotly.

He takes the empty glass away and sets it down. “Any time you want to stop—” His hand rests over hers. “I will not force you to do anything.”

“I can do this.” She unbuttons the cloak and allows it to fall away, revealing her shoulders, the low, low neckline, and the lace that rests on her thighs.

“Hm.” He squeezes her hand thoughtfully. “That is a good start. But your Innocence is in the way, even if makes your legs quite graceful.”

She deactivates and watches them curl into their anklet forms, cool and hard against her cross-shaped scares. With his hands, he lifts her feet up into his lap.

“Cold?”

“Not much.” The alcohol in her system keeps her warm.

His fingers knead her toes and the soles of her feet, slowly. For the first time, she sees and feels his ungloved hands. Calloused, but still smooth in certain areas of his palms. And heated. They move up to her scares to trace the area. She lets her hands fall to the couch to grip. Her scars are not fresh, but they are unusually keen to touch and the more he moves over them, the more it prickles in a way that is connected to the slow build-up of longing need. He is the first to ever touch her like this aside from herself, and she has never run her hands over her legs the way he is doing.

He massages upwards, to her thighs. Her muscles tense and loosen; how far is he going up? But then he stops. She is about to say something, but he has replaced his fingers with his mouth. The tongue languidly swirls patterns, while lips caress more lovingly than his fingers could’ve.

She makes a soft, pleased sound. Something tells her there is no need to hide her liking of this. He goes from one leg to the other, at an unhurried pace. Again, he stops at her thighs, to shed his robes. Men she has seen shirtless, but none like him. She reaches out to maybe touch him, to reciprocate, but he pushes her hands down. “Later. Let me first explore.”

Explore her. Lenalee swallows as the words touch her somewhere inside. Arousal was long ready for the right buttons to be pushed, and he has found all of them. She forces herself to relax, as he lifts the dress off her. She now wears only a brassiere, underwear, and shorts. Her feet are still on his lap, her head against one side of this sofa.

“Better than what I had imagined.” Did he really imagine her, or was it for her benefit that he says that? Either way, he is slowly pulling her top attire off with practised ease.

She almost folds her arms over her breasts. They are nothing, she thinks. Small and nowhere near supple. However, he proceeds to hold them in his hands without pause, gaze not leaving her face. She looks down at the fingers circling there, and then up at him. He presses lightly, then firmly, giving attention to her nipples that were peaked.

“Nn—” Her legs shift when she feels a familiar wetness blossoming. She breathes erratically as he continues to stroke with a methodical hand.

“More?”

“Please.”

He wasn’t even near her most sensitive areas and she was already caving. He leans forward to kiss her; there is a mixture of more alcohol and cigarettes, then his actual taste. She swallows and pushes back to the best of her abilities. Then he leaves her mouth to trace gently down her pulse, resting on a collarbone then swiping down to her breast. Why is it that dampness undoes her in a way that fingers cannot? He carefully pays attention to both sides of her chest, licking and adding sucking until she is fidgeting under his ministrations, eyes closed.

“How do you usually touch yourself?”

She opens her eyes, confused but quite stimulated and it takes a while for the question to sink in. “I…”

“I know you do.”

She glances down at herself. “Well, I…”

“Show me.”

At least she can’t seem to blush more than she does now. Shaking from desire and spurred by his words, so easily spoken about what was a private act, she unglues her fingers from the sofa, and pushes her shorts down, and cups her crotch through her remaining article of clothing. She slides her fingers back and forth over a tiny area that she has found years ago, working against it slowly. Cross watches her; she ought to be fazed but she is not. Her legs are parted and she rubs faster, rocking against her one hand and whimpering a little. When she is nearly at her peak, he stops her and takes her hand, slipping her fingers into his mouth.

Lenalee moans, a plaintive, wordless “please.” Her head falls back and she wants him to touch him more, especially in the area she had just been paying attention to.

He seems to sense this and obligates by hooking his fingers into her panties and pulling everything off and dropping it to the floor. Before she can move, he lifts her up again and carries her to his bed, laying her down. He sits down next to her, hand touching her face.

“Are you doing to—”

He puts a finger on her lips. “I want to look at you.” Naked. Exposed. Bared for him. Propriety wants her to cover herself and cross her legs, but she resists and allows his scrutiny to examine her from head to toe as her heartbeat drums in her ears. Never as she needed someone to touch her more than now, to be made to feel euphoria. She counts the seconds, all the while shifting her legs to accommodate how wet she feels.

“Beautiful and perfect.” The general finally moves and he places his fingers against her private area. Stroking slowly and directly against her skin. “Do you like this?”

“Y-yes,” she gasps, her hand clutching at her own breast.

“And this?” He presses a finger at her entrance and then pushes it in, a little.

“Mmm…”

“What about this?” That finger twists, while he keeps his thumb on that bit of area that is so sensitive for her, rubbing.

“General—ah.” Was that really her speaking like that, begging and pleading? Her toes are numb from how hard she is squeezing them.

“Breathe.” And then he bends his head to put his mouth to her folds. “Do you want me to lick down here.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I want your mouth. Against me. Again and again.” She rushes the words, not even sure of what she is saying anymore.

She almost cries out at the intensity when he first touches her. Wetness to wetness, and there was a tongue touching her down there, lapping her as if she were a delicacy. His fingers remain, coaxing sounds and half-formed words out of her as she arches into him. He pushes a finger in and out of her, always making sure to brush by where his mouth is get. Pleasure builds, eagerly, for it had been waiting for the right friction and pressure. The soft, gasping noises do not sound like her when she hits her peak and tremours pass through her. She rides it out as he continues to lick until the sensations fade to a buzz.

He wipes his mouth and pats her head. “Very good,” his tone of voice is pleased. “Did you like that?”

A nod. Her breathing is slowly returning to normal. She passes her hand over her face and finds sweat there. That was the best she felt in a life. She could not have done it to herself.

“But I thought—”

“No, we are not done, if you wanted to go further.”

Her skin is cool, and she shivers as she sits up. “Further.” Her eyes settle on the bulge of his trousers. He has stimulated her completely, taking her to heights she had not know. She doubt she could do that much for him, but she hopes she won’t be a failure at it.

He pulls a blanket over her, then guides her hands to his chest. She remembers his hands, and kneads the same way. He sighs and pushes against her. Encouraged, she uses her fingertips to tease his nipples until she can see the dark flush in his face that matches hers.

She curls her tongue over those nubs, sucking slightly both of them as he had done before to her. She pulls away only when he moves and undresses himself. Finally, they were both bare.

His girth is…large. Or maybe it’s simply uncertainty rising in her again because she has never had anything inside of her.

“It will hurt.”

“I’ll be…fine.” Lenalee wets her lips. “I can take pain worse than it.” As if to prove she is ready, she begins to fondle him, tugging and squeezing. The sound he makes sends a shiver down her back. He helps by putting his hands over her, silently telling him how he prefers to be touched. She finds out how he likes his testicles to be handled, and then with delicate scratching with her fingernails. But when she lowers her head, he stops her.

“You don’t have to.”

“But you…”

“Women have a faster recovery time.”

He lifts her chin with the back of his index finger to kiss her again. At the same time he pulls her flush against him. His length is quite near her, thick and heavy. She stirs, shifting her legs. Already she is slowly growing warm again, and the blanket falls off her shoulders.

She is about to breathe, but he continues to kiss her even while his hands move. When he breaks away and she has stars in her vision, he’s already prepared himself.

“How do you want it,” he asks, hands rubbing her shoulders and back. “With me on top, or you on top? From the front or from behind?”

“You-you on top.” Lenalee lifts her shoulder in shrug; did it matter? Still, she likes that he asks and waits before doing anything with her.

She lies on her back, head cushioned by a pillow. Fingers lift her legs and settles them around his waist.

“Just breathe. Slowly,” he tells her as he positions himself. The tip brushes over that bundle of nerves and she gulps visibly. “And relax.”

It does hurt. Awkwardly and painfully down there as he pushes in, and waits. She remembers to inhale and exhale, chest rising and falling. He uses a finger to touch her, as if to distract from his movements. It helps; she concentrates on his stimulation until he is fully inside of her, tightly. She looks a little dazedly up at him.

“It is always like this.”

“Sometimes better.” He thrusts once, leisurely. Control is his; she sighs and tilts her hips up.

Ever so gradually, he continues until he is rocking unceasingly into her, then with more force. She bits her lip and then the inside of her mouth, and then places her hands on his shoulders. Her hips move in time to his, entreating for more, as much as he could give.

He grunts and then pulls her up; she can now cling to him, their chests bumping against each other. His finger caresses her entrance and then concentrates on the region she feels the most pleasure, tightly pushing.

“Come…Lenalee…” And for the second time that night she releases, choking out his name and other indecipherable sounds as her pulse leaps and she clutches so hard she leaves scratches in his skin. He plunges himself in and out a few more times until he also comes. She sags into him, shoulders heaving as she catches her breath. He does the same, and there is only the sounds of inhaling and exhaling.

“Was that all right?” she asks. “I barely did anything.”

“You needn’t worry.” He runs a hand through her hair. “It was about you tonight.” One more kiss, slow and thoughtful. He removes himself from her and they sit, side-by-side, with a blanket over them.

She pulls her legs up. The ache is now there, reminding her how he’d touched her like that. How he’d filled her like no other man has done. Her body, no longer that of a virgin’s.

“I should go.” It’s either very late at night or very early in the morning. Time has been ignored and now life must resume.

“I’ll take you.” She is about to protest, say how he might be caught, but she catches his smirk. He doesn’t care about that, she realizes, nor does he care about how she had knocked out two guards and put them away.

They dress…or, he dresses. He insists on pulling her clothing on for her and then he dresses himself, before picking her up and carrying her out the door. Lenalee wonders if there will be a next time. But does it matter? She has experienced something nearly everyone ought to experience, to enjoy and to be with another person in an intimate way.

And for one night, she has no thoughts about all of the burdens she carries. Her sleep will be dreamless tonight, and peaceful and uninterrupted.

Author's Note: That was a oneshot. In the future there will be Allen/Lenalee, Lavi/Lenalee, Kanda/Lenalee, and other pairings (I like foursomes because they are almost never done). Just because I write characters a certain way in one story doesn’t mean it’ll be the same sort of ideas in the next. Characters are open to interpretation so as long as you keep the core of their character.

Next one is a yaoi, though I haven’t decided on the pairing yet.

Next updates will also not be as fast as these first few. I had these written up already to save myself some time.

Chapter Text

4. Tension

Chapter Text

Payback

Allen does not like to lose at several things.

First, any card game or games that dealt in gambling. Be it poker or solitaire, or roulette and the humble bingo—he'd win it. It's not just cheating; he has an unconscious mind for calculating and an impressive eye-to-hand coordination that helps.

Second, he does not like losing when he fights. He's like a one-man army. Eyes scrutinize him. People taunt him. He takes it all and continues to believe whatever he believes to be his place in this world. Just so as long as that world doesn't swallow him up.

Third, he will take any challenge and defy it. Even sexual ones. Like a few nights ago.

Maybe Lavi's just a sore loser.

But he wants less of the self-assured looks on Allen's face.

_-|||:|||-_

"Let me run through this again." Allen stuffs the rest of his fiftieth—Lavi was count—sandwich and chews before speaking. "Your injured pride wants to take off my clothes, and then, as you so put it, 'ravish' me until I lose unconsciousness."

At least he has the sense to not say this very loud. Neither of them was blushing. Allen works on Lavi's dessert because the Bookman Junior is too full.

"Something along the likes of that."

"Interesting." He finishes what seems to be his eight scoop of ice cream. Food inhalation is a passion of his. "What does the ravishing include."

"Oh…this and that." Lavi grins a Cheshire grin at him. "But I'll have you begging at the end."

"I don't beg for many things." His tongue dips out to lick at a droplet of ice cream; purposefully, because both of their minds were clearly in the gutter by now.

"Not ever to be released?"

"Never had to." A shrug. "I'm hardly as prolific as…oh, my master."

"Did you teach you that?"

Allen smiles thinly. "Let's leave him out of the equation, Lavi."

Even Lavi knows not to go against that look. He sighs and shrugs. "Fine, fine. But you're not winning today."

"You're suddenly very confident."

"I'm a Bookman and I'm always confident." He suddenly reaches out and drags Allen by the hand. "And we're going. Now."

"Mmph—!" Allen stuffs a breadcrust in his mouth. "Tim, go…find Lenalee. Or bother Kanda." He shoos his golem gently away and lets Lavi pull him. "Are you this eager?"

Lavi only smiles again and waits until they're in a hall by themselves before he pulls the other against him. "Since yesterday," he whispers loudly, against Allen's ear. He takes the hand he's still holding and presses it over his crotch. "Feel that?"

Hard and yet still flesh. Its heat seeps through to his fingers and he breathes slowly. "What are you going to do with it," he asks, softly, flush slowly rising as his heartrate picks up its pace.

"You'll see."

_-|||:|||-_

The first thing Lavi does is remove Allen's vest, unbutton his shirt, and take off his belt. But he leaves everything else where it is, to Allen's confusion.

"I'll hate you if you ruin my clothes. Didn't you say you were going to strip me."

"No one's clothes are getting ruined." A wink and then Lavi pushes him down on the bed. "But you are getting this put on you."

In a flash, he is blinded by a headband slipping over his eyes. "Really?"

"Trust me."

"I don't think I can when you talk like that."

"Well, I'm going to be talking a little less," Lips seal over his in a tight kiss that leaves me lightheaded. "Starting about…now."

Allen leans back. He still doubts that he will lose to Lavi; he's only curious to see how far Lavi's going to take this. So he lets Lavi tease him with multiple kisses and touches up and down his body. Fingernails lightly scratch over his skin, and a wet mouth tucks itself against various parts that make him buck. His pants and underwear are pushed down to his knees, but no further. His shirt is still on, just barely; it's slipped off both shoulders and tangles his arms. Belatedly, he realizes he can't exactly move anymore.

Fine, Lavi gets one point for pulling this on him. But only one. He still has yet to make him beg for anything. But Lavi is every bit as stubborn as Allen. He purposefully sidesteps Allen's groin, be it his cock or his rear passage. He focuses on heaping attention everywhere else, from ears to lips to neck to nipples to shoulder and fingers and thighs.

Sweat stands out on his skin and several times, he's had to breath a little louder. "Lavi," he complains, "how long are you going to take?"

"Sore? Or aching? Maybe you'd like to give in now?"

Allen makes a face and he hears the other laugh. "All right! How about this?"

"You—" A delicate, soft texture touches the nape of his neck. The words get stuck in his throat as the touch circles his Adam's apple, slowly tickling down to his collarbones.

He shifts on the bed, hands flexing. For some reason, the moisture at the tip of his erection has increased, oozing there. That damn sensation moves across his chest. Unlike a mouth, this thing, whatever Lavi's holding, is able to cover more surface. He moves it at a steady pace, unwavering and slowly. Allen finds himself curving his body towards it. The touch is light and maddening; he needs it to firmer.

"Whatever happened to that patience of yours?" Lavi softly teases. As if to make this more spiteful, he hears unmistakable sounds of Lavi touching himself.

"Being unfair," he manages to say as the ticklish feeling rubs against his stomach, just a little way from his aching nether regions.

"I told you I'd make you beg."

"In your dreams." He'd kick, but his knees were trapped. Oddly enough, he feels more exposed with his clothes half on because he feel the difference of the bed against his naked bottom compared to his clothed back and legs.

Oh yes, Lavi's certainly planned this out. Carefully. Even the way he's stroking over now-trembling thighs, lightly and steadily.

"You're being cruel." Allen shakes his head back and forth. If he could just twist his neck lower, he'd be able to shake off the binding around his eyes…

It's hard concentrate when Lavi finally puts it on his groin. Too has he anticipated it, and it feels better than he'd ever imagine. Tantalising, measured sweeps over his hot erection, from tip to bottom and then swirling around. Unbashedly, he pushes his hips up for more and moans.

If he's going to come, Lavi at least ought to have the sense to come with him. The movements he makes finally does move the headband and he can finally see what was touching him.

"…Lavi." He sucks in a breath.

"Mm?"

"Is that a…duster?"

One downward stroke sends him groaning. "Been saving it for this." There's nothing special about it except that it's light, feathery, and it takes it breath away.

He's at the mercy of cleaning equipment. Lavi now alternates between dragging it up and down his body with careful attention to his groin, pay attention to circling his balls as well.

Allen could've climaxed then and there, but a hand clamps down at his base just before he can. He swallows and glares at Lavi.

"Not yet, Allen~"

"What else is there?"

"You were supposed to ask for more. Or," Lavi strokes himself. "Maybe I should get off first while you watch me, wishing it were you." His fingers play a pattern against his skin.

Allen shuts his mouth and closes his eyes.

"I have a better idea."

He feels himself turn over and he starts. "What are you—"

"You'll see."

"Don't think that I don't know what that means!" Curse him and his clothes. Was Lavi really going to—

…yes, he was. One hand spreads him and then there's feathers touching his entrance, wriggling. He buries his head against the pillow

But at least Lavi has the sense not to put loose feather directly into him. And he actually as oil; a finger is pressing, asking for permission.

Allen turns his face to meet Lavi's gaze, a sort of "fine, have it your way" sort of look. "Idiot Lavi…" He shifts. "At least let me take of the rest of my clothes."

"Go ahead. I have all the time I want."

"Bastard." He throws his clothing down and lies back down, bared.

Lavi pats his bottom and then continues, unperturbed by the interruptions. "I'm not even going to bother asking if you've done this before."

"Good, because I won't answer." Not today, anyway. Then is quiet for a while as Lavi works. One finger becomes two, and then he finds the spot that makes Allen clench his teeth and alternate between humping the bed and pushing against those fingers.

He reaches down to take some tension off his cock but his hand gets slapped away. He settles for shredding covers with his hands as Lavi adds a finger.

"Do you know," Lavi breathes out, voice sounding unnaturally deep. "How you look right now? At my mercy, on your knees, with me making you jump every time I do this—" Prod. Allen groans.

"Lavi."

"Yeah, Allen?"

"Just shut up and put it in, or so help me, I'll knock you out and finish myself."

Lavi laughs at this, but even he's had enough, because he doesn't tease anymore and instead rests his tip against the cleft of Allen's passage. The slickness tells him he's just as eager. Little by little, he inches himself in. Allen braces himself, teeth gritting until Lavi can go no further, and then he grinds back after initial pain subsides. They push back and forth, rocking the bed. Allen is still not allowed to touch himself; Lavi has a tight hold on his testicles even as he's sliding and bumping against those nerves that makes him shiver, curse in head, and want release.

The pace increases; Allen sees stars as he ruts against the bed and against Lavi. He's held out this long and Lavi won't be lasting much longer—

…well, he might indulge the other. Once.

"L-Lavi." Softly.

"What?" Lips settle in his shoulder, sucking.

"Please." He breathes the word in.

"Go ahead." The tight hold is released, but then he feels those damn feathers against his sensitive cock. It doesn't take to long to be unravelled by that softness curling all around him. His knees give out and he feels his release flowing out of him, bit by bit as he sighs in relief and bliss. Lavi thrusts for another minute or so, jerking him until he, too, comes. He leans over Allen, offering one last kiss. The duster, now dripping, is dropped somewhere by the bed.

"I hate you." His voice is muffled by the sheets.

"You enjoyed some of it."

"I'm going to get back and you know it."

"I'm not against feathers, but you can come up with something else, can't you?"

Allen pauses. Thoughts flit through his mind. He tilts his head to laugh. "I'll think of something."

He is never going to look at a duster the same way again.

But he doesn't care.

Because Lavi's going to remember his headband in a different way after he's through with him.

Author’s Note: And the next one is the threesome requested by Queen Louise. Slow updates for now but I'll be picking up my pace again soon.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Kanda dreams in lotuses and disembodied voices. Lotuses, he has learned, stood for someone who’s seen hell and lived, and now is haunted by the flowers. As for the voices, one of them belonged to him and the other belonged to someone else. Someone he does not know and may never know.

Both these things are illusions. They have to be. And Kanda does not care for illusions. Reality—that’s what matters. He’s an Exorcist. An odd one, but still very, very apt. Déjà vu is an old friend and he stopped trying to understand it. So what if things were familiar; maybe that was helpful.

He didn’t trust people, after all. He trusted his sense.

…all right, so there were three people he could trust. One was Alma, the other Marie, and the third was Lenalee. Alma because they spent the most years together, Marie because they fought to together, and Lenalee because she did not judge him and because they’ve shared a bed—

No, not that way. As children she had crawled into his bed to sleep. That was all.

Alma’s the one who could be likened to a…fuckbuddy. As crude as that sounds. It didn’t sound as bad when Alma says it with a smile on his face. Besides, they really did fuck.

It was normal.

It began around after they turned sixteen. Sexual urges that kicked in (Kanda), and then relieving it (Alma). Ever since, it was a common affair. Kanda is not experimental; Alma was and Kanda only says no to his crazy ideas half the time. They kept quiet and they were sure only maybe two other people knew—the Finder that accidentally walked in and then pissed himself when they threatened him, and perhaps Marie, who would never say anything.

They saw it as just a thing they did.

___---|||:|||---___

“How about—”

“I said no.”

“You’re such a wet blanket.”

“I’m tired.” He keeps his head buried underneath a pillow. Most of the time they never worried about injuries. Today was particularly trying after losing a leg. Limbs were the most painful.

“Yu—”

“Shut it.” Alma is the only person allowed to call him by his first name and live. “Why are you so damn noisy today.”

“I can’t talk?”

“You’re in my room. I tell you what you can’t or can do.”

“Then you’d better name everything I can or cannot do.”

“Fuck off.”

“So mean.”

“I said I was tired.” Hands slide underneath his shirt and he is about to roll over, frustration in in his voice. “You—”

“I’m just giving you a massage. Relax.” Fingers knead his lower back. “I can do that, can’t I?”

Innocent question? Ridiculous. “You’re not subtle at all.” But Kanda lets him apply pressure to his body, even shifting to push the rest of his shirt off. Alma isn’t bad with his hands; they’re firm and slightly rough, but warm. He finds himself even relaxing.

“You like this.”

“Tch.”

“I know you like it.”

He pulls his head out from under the pillow, and contemplates throwing it at Alma. “Are you going to keep talking?”

“It’s like breathing to me.”

“I should tell you to leave.”

“But you’re not going to.” Smug.

“No. Because if you stop I’d consider hitting you.”

“You should trim your hair.” Fingers stroke the long strands in a way that sends goosebumps down his back. “Don’t you ever get split ends?”

“I was blessed to not have them.” His scalp and neck as massaged and he can’t help making a soft, pleased sound. “I hate you.”

“More moments for me to try to love you.” Alma trails back down and then places his fingers against the small of Kanda’s back. His thumbs line up and rub tantalizingly close to his backside.

“Suit yourself.”

“I plan to.” He shifts his hips as the other squeezes his posterior, moving down to his thighs, and then back up. The pressure pushes his body against the mattress, particularly his hips.

He’s half-comfortable at this moment as he is…well, fondled quite thoroughly. It’s slowly becoming harder to pretend he’s unaffected, especially when the rest of clothes are shoved aside and hands are now on his naked behind.

“Maybe you should turn over.”

“Maybe you should keep doing what you’re doing.”

A finger tickles his hair. “If you sure you don’t want me massaging elsewhere.”

“I’m sure.” For now, anyway.

“Then you won’t have any problems with this, then?” Some cold bumps against his side, and Kanda half starts as he looks up at a bottle of oil in Alma’s hand.

“No, but do that again and I’m really kicking you out.”

“Sorry, Yu.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Mm.” Oil-slicked hands trace over his back, leaving residue behind. It all slides smoothly over his skin; Kanda almost decides to turn over as he imagines those fingers against his member, which is pressed against his leg, awkwardly hard and hot. Those hands travel over his body, covering every surface. Finally, a finger dips in between the cheeks of his bottom.

“Yu…”

“Are you going to keep me waiting?”

A hand pats his bottom. “No, no, just making sure.”

“You don’t have to ask about everything. I’m letting you touch me, right?”

“Then I’ll touch you more.” The finger nudges slowly in, aided by the oil. Kanda tells himself to relax. They’ve done this before, but the first one always takes adjustment.

Alma works a slow pace. No words are needed anymore; they both know how this goes. Kanda is rocking back and forth to relieve the ache in his groin as the fingers move in and out of him.

“Can’t you go faster?”

“Do you want me to?”

Kanda starts to turn over, but a hand against his back prevents it. “What are you—”

“I’m just curious.” A jab makes him close his eyes and breathe deeply.

“To what? See if I can come like this?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

He can very easily shove and turn over and finish this himself. But the fingers up his passage hold him there. Maybe he’s just a little curious, too.

Alma’s long ago found his prostrate and aims quite precisely. Kanda clenches and unclenches, shamelessly rubbing his erection against the bed. The hand firmly rubbing his backside helps, too. Then Alma decides to lick his ear and work his hand underneath to fondle at Kanda’s cock. It surprises him into climaxing then and there in a rush.

“Ah—” Yu Kanda do not make sounds very often. He bites on his lip and arches into that hand as his seed spills. The hands leave him and he turns over to gently slap Alma upside the side. “Cheater.”

“No one makes me come like you do.”

He breathes and wipes at the sweat on his face, skin already cooling. “That’s all you can boast about?”

“Well,” Alma tilts his head. “No one makes me scream like you do.”

“Tch.” Kanda grabs him by the hair and tugs him down for a kiss. He pulls back to say “We’re not done” before he makes quick work of the other’s clothes and pushes him down.

Alma blinks up at him, a little cockily. “What are you planning, Yu? Are you going to do what I did to you, or something else?”

“Shut up and watch.” His pace is different from Alma’s; there is only so much he is patient about. He licks a trail from sternum to groin, pinches nipples, and sets his teeth against ears and lips. He keeps a hand clamped at the base of the cock that bobs up to bump against him every time he moves.

The other makes little sounds and movements, both arching into and curling away from Kanda’s ministrations. He especially groans when Kanda begins to suck on him, taking nearly the full length in.

“Fuck, Yu…” His hands mess in Kanda’s hair as his legs change positions. Kanda pushes at them and hauls Alma up by the waist to leave his leg dangling down Kanda’s back as he moves his head up and down.

He has enough patience to keep Alma at the edge; his hand mercilessly teases testicles and perineum, but every time Alma shows near-release, he grips the base to keep him there.

“Did I—do something to displease you.”

Kanda shakes his head and licks the side of his cock.

“Aaaah…you’re cruel.” Alma’s fingers dig into his hips.

“Tch.” He pulls away. “You won’t think that when I’m through with you.”

“Just what else are you going to do?”

“This.” Kanda lets him down so that Alma can see he is aroused again. Oil is still on his skin, glistening. Before the other can say anything else, he brings himself down so that they are lying directly against each other.

“You’re so unfair, getting to come twice.”

“Says the one who insisted on getting me off first.” They grind together, breathing sounds mixed.

“I’ll do more next time.”

“Go ahead.” Alma is truly bad at keeping his fingers away; they return to Kanda’s passage to grope. Their erections slide and bump, slick with fluids. The Alma tenses, his head tilted back, and he whimpers before coming. Kanda slips a hand between them to squeeze a little more before he moans and comes as well.

They stay in their positions for a minute or two, simply listening to each other’s breathing and heartbeats.

If Kanda thinks too hard about it, he’s fucking his best friend every week. But so is Alma. They’re childhood friends. But maybe that’s why he can with him like this and not care too much.

…though one could call it caring about only one person. Only Kanda knows how Alma can whisper things in his ear at night until he turns out to silence him with a kiss. Only Alma knows how good Kanda is at kissing until they have to do it right there. Only the two of them are aware of the other’s bodies and how they react.

“Yu?”

He makes a sound.

“You might want to move before we…get stuck.”

Kanda wordlessly rolls off.  They clean each other off and then lie back down, shoulders and arms touching.

“How long…”

“How long what?”

“How long do you think this will last?”

He replies with a question. “Do you want the real answer or the fake answer?”

“Both.”

“When one of us dies.” Which would take a while. “Or when this fucking war is over.”

“Maybe there will be more Exorcists.”

“I sometimes hate how hopeful you are.” Kanda prods a sharp elbow into a side.

The jab is returned. “And I hate how pessimistic you are.”

“Little bit of you, little bit of me, and together as a person, we’d actually be balanced.”

“Don’t say that, Yu.”

“Why not?” He turns his head, and finds that Alma is looking at him.

“Because I like the way you are now.”

It’s cheesy and lame. Sentimental and even pathetic. Kanda could almost laugh. But he doesn’t.

There’s only one thing they’d never speak of to each other. A four-letter word that hides in the sheets, in their voices, in their bodies and motions. It wants out but they refuse to let it out or even think about it.

“Quit that.” Kanda hears himself saying. “I can stand you when you’re not saying the first thing that comes to your mind.” He knows that Alma knows the true meaning behind the words.

“Maybe someday.” Alma closes his eyes and turns on his side.

Kanda lets the silence fill the space between them until it is too long, and then he softly answers. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t like being touched by anyone. He hates the presence of other people. He only shares a bed with two people. He only sleeps with one. Under other circumstances, he might own up to his feelings and put a name to it.

It’s because this has always been familiar. The act of sex came easily to them, like memorized roles. Déjà vu, or more? The depths of his own mind, if he thinks too heavily, is one of the few things that frighten him.

He dares not delve to deep, for his and Alma’s sake. They might not like what they find, and when things are actually good between them could all fall apart in one instant.

Kanda wouldn’t do that, not to the one person he almost fully trusts.

So they’d continue this, until whatever ends they met.

Author’s Note: The bit of romance element came as a surprise, but I think it made sense. Certain souls click with each other in various ways.

Thank you for reading.

Next: Allen/Rou fa

Chapter Text

Attraction at first sight.

He’s the first crush that she’d gone starry-eyed over and swooned. He was perfect—an Exorcist, a gentleman, a prince—she could go on and on with her compliments.

Allen Walker was simply amazing. He cared about everyone, fought harder than everyone, and he won. She’s watched him fall and get up, fail and succeed…

Lou Fa has seen him shirtless more times than any other female. She’s sure of that. She considers herself a step above Bak though, with his secret stash and not-so-secret crush on one Lenalee Lee. She doesn’t need pictures. She gives him boxes of food, which he happily accepts. He says please and thank you and you’re welcome. Such a courteous boy. Rationality tells her she’s just a little old for him, being twenty. Still, she can’t help but think about him.

The though of sleeping with him hasn’t even crossed her mind…

___---|||:|||---___

“A dare?”

“Yes, we have a dare for you.” Rikei and Shifu are smiling too, too widely. She is suspicious.

“Why? We don’t have time for games.”

“No, it’s really simple.” Rikei is carrying boxes; Shifu carries papers. Lou Fa holds only a clipboard. “Because…we’re curious if you’d do it.”

“Do what? Both of you are being too secretive.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “If this is about Fou or anyone—”

“It’s about an Exorcist.” Rikei interrupts.

“Uh-huh.”

“A male Exorcist.”

“A certain Allen Walker.”

“Wh-what of him?” She laughs too loud and almost trips over her own feet; Shifu catches her. “He’s doing well…”

“You like him.”

She screams and hides her face behind her clipboard. “Don’t say it like that!”

“So many people already know about it. It’s obvious to everyone but him!” Rikei is still smiling too much. If she had more a temper, she’d hit him on the head.

Thank God for Shifu. “Lou Fa, what he’s trying to say is—” He pauses. “You might lose your opportunity if you wait too long. People come and go and Exorcist Walker is no exception. You see how hard see tries and how little he thinks of himself.”

“True…” Her glasses are smudged from how they had pressed against her face. She cleans them off on her sleeve. “But I…I don’t think…”

“That he’d accept?”

“I don’t think I’m his type!” she almost wails.

“Does he even have a type?”

“…” Simultaneous silence.

Shifu pats her on the back. “You don’t know until you try.”

“Besides, that’s why we’re daring you.”

“To…?”

“Get him to ask you out on one date.”

Her laughter is nervous and she almost trips again. “He wouldn’t. Besides, he is busy and he isn’t going to be here any time soon.”

“No, I heard he’s coming here for a little while.”

“From who?”

“A little bird told me so.”

She must be blushing so much right now. “But I don’t know how to get anyone to date me. I’ve never dated before. Also—” she glances at them, “what if I win the dare?”

“I’ll buy you that series of books you’ve been wanting for God-know-how-long.”

…her weakness.

“I-I’ll try my best!” She drops her clipboard and puts her hands to her face. “But I’ll need to change clothes…makeup…fix my hair…when is he coming.”

“…oh…later today.” Shifu looks at his watch. “Actually, in an hour.”

Her scream probably scared off any Akuma for the day, Fou was rudely awakened from a nap, and the foundations of the Asian Branch probably shook a little as well.

___---|||:|||---___

In the end, she is still in her lab coat and uniform, sans makeup. At least her hair would always remain neat. Boring, but neat. Lou Fa is in despair as she clutches a box of sweets that she’d been saving up for this very moment.

“Stay calm, Lou Fa,” she tells herself as she smoothes out one of her ponytails. “You just have to convince to ask you for a date.”

She still doesn’t know how that is going to happen. She is still thinking about it when she nearly crashes into him around the corner.

“Mister Walker—”

“Ah.” Somehow, he has caught both her and her box, neatly. “Hello, Lou Fa.”

She is too dazed to say anything at first. He carefully sets her upright, and then slowly waves a hand in front of her face. “Are you all right? Should I find someone?”

“No—I’m all right.” She must be blushing from ears down to her neck. “Just surprised. I was looking for you.”

“You were?”

She thrust the box at him. “For you. I’m sorry I didn’t have any time to make my own mitarashi dango for you like last time. But these are good. I’ve had them any time. Shifu usually doesn’t even like things like this but even he eats them, so I think you would like them to. But, ah, if you don’t, I can always return them and buy a—”

He laughs and holds up his hand. “I can’t say no to any food at all.” He opens the box and selects a sweet, then feeds one to Tim. “See, we both like it, don’t we?”

Relieved, she puts her hands to her face to hide the blush as she smiles back. “I’m glad you do! I’ll buy more next time.”

“If it’s not any trouble for you, Lou Fa.” She loves seeing his smile; it lights up his whole face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stand there as she racks her mind. “I was wondering…”

“Hm?” He swallows another bite, brushing crumbs off his uniform.

“If…if…” She says the words in a rush. “If you have free time right now for a walk. I don’t think you’ve ever seen outside of the Asian Branch, right?”

What if that was too daring to ask? Lou Fa swallows and holds her breath.

“You’re right. I’ve never seen it.” He seems to laugh sheepishly. “The last time I was here, I only made it halfway through China before getting distracted.”

“I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Please lead on then. I have some time to spare.”

She can’t believe it. They’re walking together, just the two of them. As they pass by a room, Rikei and Shifu both wave and give a thumbs up.

Now if she could just keep this up. It’s about the dare, but also about getting him to see how much she likes him…

___---|||:|||---___

They walk a few streets, Allen asking questions while she answers them to the best of his abilities. He pays attention to everything she says, and she relaxes a bit.

“I haven’t seen any pandas so far…”

Lou Fa laughs. “Didn’t anyone tell you that pandas aren’t everywhere? They’re not like…pigeons.”

He looks disappointed as he chews on meat that has been fried and stuck on a skewer. “So I may never get to see one.”

“I’ve never seen one before, either. Panda aren’t as common as some people think. Some forests were cleared, and they all disappeared into hiding.”

“I think Lenalee’s seen some before.”

“Has she?”

“She might have mentioned it before to me.” His tone of voice is a little wistful. “Back when we were traveling through China.”

“Do you like Lenalee?” Oops. She puts a hand over her mouth, mollified at the boldness of her own question.

“I—pardon?” He actually stops walking.

“Oh, never mind…”

“It’s all right; I can answer it.” Allen resumes walking. “Lenalee is a good Exorcist and friend. She worries a little too much, but she means well. I…don’t know if I like her. Or anyone.” He scratches his cheek with a finger. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“Hm.” He does not pursue the issue. “I have a question, too.”

“Yes?”

“Why are there so many lanterns? I first thought it was because people liked them, but those—” he nods at a pair of very elaborate dragon-shaped lights. “—they look special.”

“Oh! I forgot. It’s the Lantern Festival.”

“Festival?”

“It starts on the first month, fifteenth day of the lunar calendar on the last year of Chinese New Year celebrations.”

“No wonder there’s so much good food.” He must be on his…thirtieth stick. “Do people do anything special today?”

“We wait until night. The adults don’t do much, but the children go around solving the riddles on the lanterns. They also make their own, and family walk around together.”

“It sounds nice.” He nibbles the last of his food and lets his golem eat his empty skewer.

“It is. I haven’t been out to this festival for a while now. Most of us are too busy…or when Bak remembers, he finds someone to bring the lanterns in and we have a celebration of our own.” Times are dark and there’s been little to celebrate. She misses it.

“Maybe we should do it.”

“Do what?” She looks away from the lanterns, confused.

“Collect some lanterns, answer the riddles.” He tilts his head. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“N-no, we can!” She begins walking. “I know a place to get lanterns. It’s this way…”

___---|||:|||---__

They had to wait until it was dark before mingling with the people who were out for the same reason. Children played around; boys tried to hit each other with their sticks until their mothers told them to stop. The excited chatterings rose around them. They managed to solve five riddles before either of them realized the time.

“Link is going to have my head…” Allen bemoans even as he’s stuffing rice balls in his mouth as they begin rapidly. “And mmphhrgth—”

“Mmrm?” She gulps her own food.

“And he might not let me out of his sight for a while.”

“I’m sorry…I should have been more careful.” She didn’t mean to waste his whole day. “Now you’re going to be in trouble and—”

“No, I’m actually glad.”

She nearly stops walking. “You are?”

“It’s been more fun than I’ve had in long while. Like you, I’ve been too busy.” Both of them are in uniform; they were always ready, weren’t they?

“So…so did I.” It was fun, watching him attempt to speak in Chinese to buy food, puzzling over the questions on the lanterns, and just walking.

He’s truly someone nice. Her throat closes a little. Does he like anyone, at all?

“Lou Fa? Thank you.”

“You’re really welcome, Mister Walker.”

“Allen.”

“…Allen?”

He smiles gently. “All my friends call me Allen.”

“Allen, then.” He’s not going to see her as a potential romantic interest, is he? “Thanks for accepting my offer.”

“I couldn’t disappoint you.”

“…You couldn’t?”

“You wanted some time alone with me, didn’t you?”

Crunch. She didn’t trip this time, but her knees are weak. “You knew?”

“I know when people look at me like that.” Is he blushing, or is it just the lighting? “But I don't let me know. Many people have had crushes on me from time to time…but they’re only that.”

Lou Fa lowers her head. “You don’t like me, do you?” Her voice is very quiet.

“No, I like you. But I’m afraid I can’t love you in a certain way. It wouldn't be good, if I had attachments.” Allen keeps his tone soft. “I love everyone and I want to save them. But I can’t ask another person to be in a relationship with me.”

“It’s fine.” She won that stupid dare, anyway. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Why is he still being so nice? She swallows tears.

“Ah—did I make you cry?” He turns to her and brushes at her face. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “No, you're an Exorcist chosen by God. I’m just an apprentice scientist…”

“It’s not that. You asked me if I like Lenalee. I’m very, very fond of her. But it’d be cruel if I said I loved her.” He suddenly sounds very old. “I’d like to live to see the end of this war, but I could die tomorrow.”

“It’s sad…”

“That’s why I want to change it. If we do win, I’d have time for love.”

Her tears have dried up. “Has anyone ever told you you’re too nice?”

“Many times.” When did he start holding her hand? “But, Lou Fa, I can do one more thing.”

“You can?”

“It’s as late as it is.”

She’s still confused even as he gives Timcanpy a voice message to take back saying he’ll be back in the morning—Link, I promise I’m not doing anything terrible so you can take the night off—and then he pulls her along.

___---|||:|||---___

They’re at an inn.

Scratch that, they’re inside a room in an inn.

“…Mister—Allen?” She still has to get used to saying his first name. Out of tension, she takes her glasses off and begins to wipe them down with her sleeve.

“Hm?” He is inspecting the windows.

“Why are we here?”

“Because you gave me a gift, and now I’m giving one back to you.”

“Are we talking about—sex?” She gapes and drops her glasses, only for him to catch them. He holds them delicately, and then places them back on her face.

“Yes, we are.”

“Um.” Her giggle has an edge of anxiety to it. “I know all about it! The male and female take of their clothes, and often they start by kissing—”

He kisses her on the mouth, silencing her. She is too surprised to react, even when he pulls away. “You were saying?”

“…” Her face is too warm for her own liking.

Allen tilts her chin up with his finger, searching her eyes. “Do you want to continue? I know this is very abrupt…”

“Yes.” She swallows. “One night. I’ll still like you, but I understand what you mean.”

She’d at least have one night to remember with him.

He continues to kiss her, deepening it little by little until she sheds her coat and is clinging to him, even trying to kiss back. So he’s done this before, with others.

“He’s really good,” she thinks, watching him undo his own jacket and laying it aside. She tries not to think anymore about the fact he’s not a virgin.

Allen guides them to the bed, where he pulls his shirt off, revealing pale scars. Lou Fa starts to ask about them, but stops. She’s seen them before, after all. She has a moment of terror when he asks if she would like to take something else off.

“Maybe I should keep it on.”

“If you wish.”

She remembers Shifu and Rikei, and hopes they’re covering for her. One apprentice can’t be missed for just one night, right? Or so she hopes.

He is gently caressing her face, and then removing her glasses and setting them aside. Now he’s blurry in the lighting, but it’s all right. She removes shoes and stockings, and loosens the top buttons of her shirt. There’s a clink when he undoes his belt. He doesn’t pull off his pants just yet, though. Instead, he lays his palms over her breasts.

“I’m just going to rub them. Tell me if you don’t like it.”

Lou Fa makes a sound when he begins, kneading them in circles until she is gasping. It feels better than anything else she has felt before. Her hands find his shoulders and she leans forward into those hands until he stops. With shaking fingers she pulls off her jumper and undoes her shirt and bra. The feel of his gloves against her bare skin is like no other, and she whimpers his name.

“How do you do that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“…no.”

He kisses her again, pulling her shirt fully off and leaving her in only underpants.

“Actually.” She blushes. “I-I don’t want to go all the way.”

“It’s okay; we don’t have to.” His hand strokes her bare shoulder, as if trying to push away her uneasiness. “Then how far do you want me to go?”

Lou Fa flushes still more as she whispers her request. It must seem silly, her being so cautious. But he obliges with a smile, and insists it’s always up to her.

She forgets everything else when he touches her through her underwear, finger pushing against her clitoris. Everything she read about it being sensitive was all, so very true. He holds her up with his other arm, that hand stroking the side of her neck. There’s even a little bit a daring on her part, when she slips her hand into his pants and strokes the heated area there, unsteadily but touching nonetheless.

He makes her release twice; both times, she’d call it a ride up into heaven that sends her tilting her head back and crying out, legs splaying helpless as the sensations in her groin travel through the rest of her body. Each time, he’d smile and call her beautiful; it almost brings tears to her eyes.

There might not ever be love, but he likes her enough to do this for her. She can’t ask anymore. Eventually she helps him to come by stroking enough; she gets to see his face when he softly gasps and shudders in her hand. The way his hair clings to his face and how his lips part when he breathes, and how his hands still cling to her—it’s very beautiful and exhilarating.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks when they both lie down; he tucks his hand against her waist.

“Yes.” She’s sleepy and mostly content. Her heart’s a little heavy, but that’s to be expected when you get turned down. “Allen, I’m…I…Thank you.”

He kisses her on the back of her head. “You’re welcome. I enjoyed it, too.”

___---|||:|||---__

“Lou Fa!”

She peeks out from her room. “Morning, Shifu. Morning, Rikei.” A towel wraps around her hair, but otherwise she looks normal.

“Where were you last night—”

“—we had to cover for you—”

“So what did the two of you do?”

“N-not so loud!” She opens the door wider to let them in. “We went for a walk and then we bought food and we enjoyed the Lantern Festival.”

“And then?”

She puts on her best apologetic face. Thank goodness she rehearsed this the last night with Allen. “We came back very late so we didn’t want to wake anyone up. I should’ve let you know I was back. Sorry about that.”

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it.” Lou Fa shrugs. “I won the dare. Do I get the books?”

“We’ll buy them some time this week,” Rikei meekly says. “I didn’t think you could do it.”

“But I did.” She smiles and laughs.

“You seem different.”

“Do I?” She ushers them out the door. “I had fun.”

More than a little fun. When she closes the door, she spins around and then falls on her bed, hair pooling around her.

Allen Walker would remain her crush. Unrequited, but it was okay. He understood. He’s still a gentleman. And she’d always remember how very good he is with his touch.

Author’s Note: This turned out longer than I expected. But it asked for a plot, thus it had a plot. It’s not all that smutty; I had a hard time pushing it further  because when did, the characters’ voices bothered me. So despite my clumsiness, I hope you’ve all enjoyed it. I’m posting the OT4 request tomorrow (It’ll be a long one) so look forward to that.

Chapter Text

In her dreams, she has slept with Allen, but also with Lavi and Kanda. She dreams of how her body fits against theirs, how they would hold her. How they’d whisper her name. How it would make her feel. She always brushed it off as fanciful thinking. They’re friends and fellow Exorcists. They’ve fought together and held each other up. Besides, how would they feel if they knew what she thought of them?

She isn’t sure when she started loving them individually.

Kanda was first. The first she met, who stood in L’vellie’s way more than once, did her hair for her, and slept in the same bed. He has always been there for her. Lavi was second. Polar opposite of Kanda’s mood, always teasing a laugh out of her, and the quickest to offer a hug and even a kiss on the cheek. And Allen was third. He remains the kindest and most maddening person. The one she wants to see less burdened. Friendliness turned to fondness, and fondness to love. They were constantly in her thoughts, vying for attention.

She can’t choose.

Maybe it was the time she convinced Allen and Kanda to stop fighting for one second and they all fell asleep on the same sofa (Kanda denies it, but Timcanpy’s videofeed is enough proof). Or how the Order finally sent only the four of them on a mission and she understood how well they worked together. Perhaps even the time she almost broke an arm and the three of them were instantly there.

Lenalee is not complete without them. Her heart aches for the four of them to be united. Somehow. When the urge became too much, she sought them out one by one. All three were better than her dreams; Kanda easily pushes her over the edge, only to silence her with kisses. Lavi teased until she melted in his arms and then would make her laugh. Allen was immensely gentle and the only one who made her cry (she didn’t slap him for that) from happiness.

She wants them.

All of them.

But it is a ludicrous idea. Some would call it sick. Maybe it was an obsession. She keeps her world too close to her. She loves too much. If she had all of them together, would she be betraying herself? Betraying them?

It’s distressing, but not enough to get into the way of her life. She still fights. The routine went on.

And then she suddenly, almost nearly, loses all of them. She herself falls from the sky and loses badly. They are forcefully placed on that Ark, and for a moment, almost all her friends are gone.

Worst was how her home was attacked.

Lenalee can’t bear it.

They had to know how much she loved all of them. Individually, it was not enough. It had to be all, or none.

Besides, it takes more courage to die than it takes to ask if they would accept her.

___---|||:|||---___

“So why are we here?” Lavi asks. He is seated on a chair, legs crossed and arms against the windowsill of her room. Allen and Kanda are jostling each other (why are they seated next to each other, anyway?). Lenalee is on her bed, legs tucked up while her finger spins an anklet.

She glances at the fighting pair. “Could you at least stop for a few minutes?” Exasperated; she hopes they won’t be a problem if they actually agree to this.

Allen immediately shoves away and straightens himself. Kanda only crosses his arms. “Get on with it,” he states.

“I had a few thoughts. And a confession.”

“Eh…” Allen puts up a hand. “Does it involve Innocence or Noah?”

“No.”

“The Order?”

“No….”

“What about—”

“Oi, let her finish.” Kanda looks ready to jab another fist.

“It’s about you three. Us.” She jumps in before another fight can start. “And—”

Lavi cuts in. “It was me. I slept with her. Please don’t kill me.” A pause. “Or kill me quickly.” He puts up his hands to shield his face.

Silence reigns for a total of three seconds, then Allen activates his Innocence and Kanda unsheathes Mugen.

“Stop it!” She almost activates her boots, waving her arms. “I’ve slept with all three of you and that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” Her face must be as red as her anklets.

There, it was out. The worst was out. Kanda stares blankly at her, then at the other two, and surprisingly, sits down without a word. Allen is the one who sputters and says something incoherent, while Lavi’s blush rivals hers.

“So…” The white-haired Exorcist faintly says, “All three of us, during different times?”

“Mhm.” She stops looking at them, shoulders hunching.

“Why?”

“It’s not that I’m a…” she refuses to label herself anything. “I. I love you. All of you. I think about all of you, and I want all of you.” She keeps her gaze fixed on some imaginary square on her bedcovers. “I’ve tried to stop thinking about it, but I can’t help it. Something keeps me here, wanting, wishing.”

The room is too quiet, and she hastens to break it. “I’m telling you this because I’d like to have all of you here with me. There were times I thought I’d lost all of you. It hurt.” She didn’t mean to cry, but the tears came anyway. “I need all of you. Y-you make me complete. Better.”

This isn’t quite how she meant to ask them, but she can’t stop or go back. It’s a risk she has to take. If they hate her for it, or politely refuse and try to go back to normal, she would bear it. “You can say whatever you want. But I had to let you know, because I love all three of you.”

Lenalee finally looks up, and that's when Allen cups her face and kisses her. Deeply. When he pulls away, he has a sort of enigmatic smile on his face that steadies her.

“You’re very precious to me, Lenalee,” he traces the side of her face. “Ever since we met. When you first came to me, I said I didn’t think I could love without being selfish. But I think I do love you. And I’m okay if you love more than just me. I…” he glances at the other two. “I also have a confession. I’m not monogamous.”

“Aww, the little Moyashi admits that he’s good in bed.”

“It’s Allen, idiot Lavi.”

“All right, all right.” Lavi steps forward. “I think we can all agree that we want our Lenalady to be happy, neh?” He reaches to ruffle both Lenalee and Allen’s heads. “I’ve had a lot of crushes, but you were the one I held the longest. I don’t mind sharing.”

“You’re just greedy.” Kanda is still sitting down. Lenalee is most nervous about him and what he thinks.

“Kanda?”

He says nothing at first, but fingers the side of Mugen’s sheathe for a while before he looks up. “I loved her first.” He crosses the room in three large steps, shoving Allen aside to kiss her harder than Allen did before until she saw stars and had to lean back for air.

“Yu, don’t suffocate her.”

Amazingly, he does not mention the use of his first name. “Just don’t make asses of yourself and I’ll be fine with this.”

“Ass, yourself.”

“Fuck you—”

“Tsk, such language in front of a lady—”

“We weren’t asking for your opinion, Lavi,” both Allen and Kanda chorused. He backs off.

And Lenalee finds herself laughing amidst her tears.

This is why she loves all of them.

They were at their best when they were together.

Now the question was, what happens next?

Seemed as if she didn’t have to worry; Lavi complains he didn’t get to kiss her yet, and proceeds to do so while they all manage to fit on her bed. It’s king-sized because Komui obviously thought she needed such a giant bed, and for their purposes, it actually worked.

While she focuses on kissing Lavi, the other two are making short work of her clothes. Stockings, top, skirt and underwear were all tugged away until she is left in only anklets. She makes a sound against Lavi’s mouth, and yanks him closer while four hands run all over her body, tracing, touching, teasing until she has to reluctantly break off kissing in order to inhale.

“What is your record for coming?” Lavi asks casually, as if he were asking about the weather.

“…two times? Maybe three.”

“We can probably make it five.”

Her head spins at the number, but she has no time to say anything as Kanda pulls her against him to sit on his lap, arm around her waist while his mouth nibbles her ear. Allen and Lavi have their lips against her breasts and all she can do is lean back and make little sounds that noted her pleasure.

The thing was that it wasn’t only the sex. She liked their company and if she didn’t like the sex, she would have loved simply being in their company. The sex was an addition, a dessert…and better than she expected. Kanda’s body is as warm as hers; his cock is pressing into her back, and if she weren’t so distracted, she would help him out.

Then Lavi slips down to her nether regions that were begging for attention to lap at them while Allen continues to touch her nipples and Kanda leaves marks on her neck.

“A-ah—” it felt good. Very good. She writhes and Kanda ends up holding her down by her arms as her body moves of its own accord, arching into mouths and fingers. Her legs thrash until Lavi clamps down on those, and she is helpless to move as they pleasure her.

The climax that she experiences is better than any other time. It travels through her groin and spine and Kanda has to muffle her with a kiss even as her shoulders fall back and she is lost in ecstasy and it brings tears again to her eyes. When she comes back down, it is to all three of them, and they take turns in kissing her.

“Did you like that?” Allen’s eyes glow; all of them were flushed like she is.

“I did.” She shakily brushes damp hair out of her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Well, it’s hardly over.”

“But—”

Allen puts a finger over her lips, and then the three of them strip. Despite having just climax, she sighs when sees their naked forms. Bodies that she knows intimately, just like how they know hers.

She still doesn’t know how this is going to work…

___---|||:|||---___

Thankfully, the three of them do. Lavi pulls Allen towards his erection while he tugs Kanda by the first for a kiss. Kanda doesn’t like this; he shoves Lavi until Lenalee presses up against him, lips making a trail down his spine.

Kanda always tastes of passion and spring. Some would think he would be more like winter but it’s not so. His body is not cold at all. In fact, he always runs warm, no matter how cold it is outside. Lavi remembers this taste from past meddlings with Kanda when they were both too eager one night. And Kanda remembers as well. He breaks off the kiss to slip Lavi’s fingers into his mouth. Meanwhile, Allen pours attention on his cock and he has a hard time restraining himself until Allen pulls away.

He wants Lenalee. Badly so. But she needs time; instead he looks at her.

“You can tell us what you want us to do, Lena.”

Her eyes widen; she doesn’t quite understand.

“I think he means to say that if you want me to make Kanda come, or have Lavi inside me, or anything, we’ll do it.” Allen puts a hand out on her knee. “Anything you want.”

She crosses her legs, and Lavi thinks of running his lips over her calves. “Lavi…inside K-Kanda.” Her voice breaks as her flush deepens. “I wouldn’t know how males do it.”

“Oh, it’s quite simply, really.” Allen sits next to her and nods to Lavi.

He can’t quite contain his smirk. Kanda looks one moment ready to kill him, but he really does care about Lenalee. He turns over onto his back and spreads his legs, towards Lenalee and erection up in the air. Lavi steps down to rummage through a drawer before finding oil. He rubs it over his fingers.

“It takes a little preparation, though.”

“Mm.” Lenalee has tucked herself against Allen while Lavi begins slipping his first finger in. Kanda, ever stoic, does not even flinch. “How long?”

“Three fingers, maybe four. Depends on how much Kanda can take.”

“Fuck you, Moyashi.”

“Again with the language.” Lavi purposefully jabs, and for a millisecond Kanda tenses. He adds a finger. Allen has begun stroke Lenalee, while her hand finds his stiff member and touches it. Lavi is aware of this, and he hurriedly slips in a third finger. It takes a few exploratory pushing to find what he’s looking for, and is rewarded by Kanda gripping the bedsheets.

“It feels quite nice,” Allen says softly. He swallows audibly. “Lenalee…” He presses a hand over hers to stop her motions.

“But—”

“I can wait.” He keep his hand over Lenalee’s entrance, working his thumb against the small area that made her toes curl.

Lavi is painfully hard when he finally lines himself up with Kanda’s passage and begins to enter as slow as he can manage. The tone of Allen’s voice tells him just how close he is. He thrust himself in and out, until Kanda is an uncomfortable mess. He makes little sound, but the way he tosses his hand and clenches his teeth is enough. He watches as Lenalee comes again against Allen’s hand

It nearly gets him off and he tightly buries himself into Kanda, groaning.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Kanda reaches up to slap in on the side of the head. “Idiot rabbit.” He’s still hard, as was Allen. They were going to prolong this.

He frowns, but Lenalee saves him though, by telling Kanda he and Allen can do each other while she can take him in her mouth.

___---|||:|||---___

Kanda turns on Allen with a gleam. Allen responds by smashing their mouths together so hard that their teeth click and his lip starts bleeding. The taste of salt and copper Kanda swallows, his fingers against Allen’s throat. He grips tightly until Allen hooks his left hand around his erection and gives it sharp tug.

They pull apart. Lenalee has the back of her hand pressed to her mouth, still flushed. Lavi apparently is bad at not touching himself, for his fingers are twisting the tip of his cock, even as he reassures her this is common for Kanda and Allen to fight.

“You gave this bad reputation, Kanda…” Allen’s knee bumps into his thigh.

“You don’t always have to fight with me, Moyashi.”

“Allen.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, you fucking idiot.”

“Then I’ll call you Jerkanda as much as I want to.”

“Fuck you.”

The bed creaks just a little more as Kanda shoves Allen down. The skinny beansprout doesn’t take this; he ends up struggling until they finally end up grinding against each other.

“You’re not winning today,” he manages to say as his hands dig into Kanda’s buttocks.

The dark-haired Exorcist keeps a hand on their joined members, squeezing and flexing his hands. “Try to say that when I won’t let you off.” Allen is vocal where Kanda is not. He makes breathy little sounds and moans that threaten to undo him. It affects Lenalee, who sucking on Lavi. His knuckles are white from the effort of not bucking into her mouth, lest she gag.

Allen forcefully thrusts his pelvis against Kanda, as if daring him to come first.

Kanda isn’t going to take that. Not even as his mind registers Lenalee climbing on top of Lavi so that her entrance is against his lips, while her own tongue is tracing a vein in Lavi’s erection and it leaves him more frustrated than ever.

The damn beansprout was not going to get the best of him.

It’s because he wants Lenalee; entering Allen is a thought, but he remembers how her curves felt against his skin and how she clings to him when he takes her.

He rolls off Allen and somehow manages to keep his release at bay. Not for much longer, though.

Lenalee ends up coming again, not even bothering to hide her sounds. She’s shakier than before, but her eyes are brighter, more alive than he’s ever seen her.

Kanda leaves Allen for Lenalee, to pull her into his arms as he showers kisses on her heated skin.

___---|||:|||---___

Allen is truly getting the short end of the stick, being pushed around. So end Lavi cups him by the balls, he exhales.

“You can fuck me, Lavi,” he says easily.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Lavi positions him on his hands and knees, prepping him like he did Kanda a short while ago. Allen rests his head in his arms, sucking air in and out. Sounds made by Lenalee fills his ears and he half-wishes he were the one in Kanda’s position.

“You’re missing quite the sight,” Two fingers are in him, working themselves in and out.

“Nnn.”

“I think we made Kanda jealous.”

“He always angry about one thing or the other but never at her—hn.” He shudders when Lavi adds a third finger and he accidentally bites down on his lip, making it bleed again.

“At least see the look in his eyes.”

He raises his head and oh. Kanda’s gaze is intense as he rocks against Lenalee. He’s not even inside her, and yet they seem very much in tune.

Then Lenalee turns to look at him, lips parting, and he knows that as good as Kanda feels, he is just as good. So is Lavi. All of them her really hers.

Lavi hits the right nerves and he nearly comes as his knees buckle.

“Move a bit.”

“Why?” He doesn’t want to.

“I think I know how to finish this…if Kanda can stop moving for a bit.” His explanation makes it seem easier than it really is.

Kanda leans up against the headboard, holding Lenalee until he can slip inside her. Lavi pushes himself up against them, legs tangling with Kanda’s, while Allen eases himself down onto Lavi’s erection. He can now lean forward to caress Lenalee, while his own needs are fulfilled.

Before they begin moving, he looks back at Lavi with an accusatory glare. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Maybe.” Lavi pushes his hips up, making Allen hiss. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

“Of course it’s obvious!” He pushes himself up and slowly down. “T-take is as a compliment.”

Or something.

It’s hard to speak when you distracted.

___---|||:|||---___

The sound of Kanda breathing against her neck, hot and insistent, while he is inside her, lets her know she is not dreaming. So do the little moans that Lavi makes as he pumps himself in and out of Allen, who is leaving marks on her collarbone.

Lenalee shamelessly moves her hips, her breathing hitching as desire spurs her on. She catches wraps her arms around his neck, to pull him as close as possible to her in order to kiss him once again. His taste is different from Kanda and Lavi’s. He smells different and feels different. The three of them are not one person. They’re uniquely different and they made her feel differently.

Allen groans as he climaxes first. His fingers tangle in her hair as he moans into her mouth and as his eyes roll, and something drips between them. She reaches out to squeeze the last of his release from it. It coats her fingers and she thinks about putting them in, but Allen takes her hand and licks each digit clean, eyes never once leaving hers.

It weakens her right at the moment Kanda reaches his peak and fills her, thrusts more forceful. Her knees snap up as she cries out and shakes; Kanda catches her, his hands combing through her tousled hair until. Allen rubs her a few more times, prolonging her sensations until it feels as she has come again and again, until it is fully drained out of her and she quiets herself even as Lavi finishes, his fingernails scouring red marks down Allen’s back.

They’re a mess, but a beautiful mess, she thinks as Kanda pulls out of her, Lavi doing the same. She can’t get enough of them, ever. To know them well would take more time.

“I love you.” The word ‘you’ has become plural, not singular, and they understand this. Allen, ever polite, takes her hand and kisses the back of it. Kanda continues stroking her hair, while Lavi lifts her leg up and kisses the scar from her Innocence.

She didn’t have to choose.

She was theirs, and they were hers.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness. It’ll be a while before I can write an ot4 again…they end up being too long. Thank you for the views/hits, the comments, and for reading.

Chapter Text

Characters: Lenalee/Lavi

Warnings: Kinky sex with blindfolding and rope. Femdom. Violence/fighting. Inappropriate uses of Innocence. Some bit of questionable consent, but there is no rape.

Author’s Note: This turned into a giant thing that took me a week to finish. Sorry for the wait. The request was “Lavi and Lenalee, with Lavi tied up and blindfolded”. This one goes deeper than that request, because I haven’t really scratched the surface that is Lavi, the forty-ninth name. So it got a little darker than the other stories. The more I write, the more plot these supposed PWPs have. I think I like it this way even if this one did run away from me.

Last note is that the POV changes. Lavi – ? – Lenalee – ? – Lavi is the order.

Lesson

Lavi has ideas.

Ideas that sometimes were a little…farfetched.

Some weren’t bad; just uniquely creative that made people raise their eyebrows and say, “I see…” in that particular voice. Unless it was Kanda. He’d just hit Lavi and stalk off muttering about stupid rabbits. He actually resents that a little bit. What did he do to become likened to a rabbit? But then Allen’s a beansprout, so at least he’s one level up from a plant. Higher up on the food chain. And he makes up for it by calling Kanda “Yu” to piss him off.

When Allen hears these ideas, he tends to roll his eyes. Sometimes he elbows Lavi. Sometimes he just laughs a little too hard and if he’s eating, it’s quite the mess. At least he doesn’t try to kill Lavi. Someone has to keep Allen from thinking too hard about humanity and Akuma, so Lavi makes it his duty.

Lenalee, bless her heart, was always the most polite. And he’d never express his wildest ideas because he fears her kicks more than Kanda’s attempted stabbings/punching/shoving. You didn’t mess with her, period. And you never, never made her cry. Or mad. He’s learned to balance his teasing, and never bring up certain situations.

But she did agree to one crazy idea. The “so, I may have feelings for you that I shouldn’t have but I do and so will you please accept them?” idea that he may or may not have said while semi-drunk.

First, she had smiled. Widely. He should’ve been warned.

Then she picked him up. Oh, free ride…

Then she tossed him.

And then proceeded to kick him, mid-air, into a fountain.

He was only vaguely aware of being dragged out and then taken to an inn and being tucked in. When he came to, Lenalee was sitting there, calmly, with a book.

She asked him if he meant what he said. When he said he did, he’s ready this time to be possibly thrown out the window.

She accepted.

Two months later, he was in her bed.

___---|||:|||---___

 “Ne, Lena.”

“Mhm?” They’re sitting in the library. Lavi’s giving her a shoulder massage, and she’s nearly asleep.

“Your Innocence.”

“What about it?”

“I first thought the original form was good, but—damn. I really like how it is now.”

“Mhm. Thank you.”

“Now I’m curious about something.”

She tilts her head back. “About?”

“About seeing you in nothing but those boots.”

She looks at him.

He looks back.

She’s blushing. “Why?”

“Because you look really good in them. And I might have a couple more ideas.”

“Nothing involving chocolate, I hope.”

“…no, not this time.”

“Good. Because last time it got everywhere. I didn’t think I could tire of chocolate, but I did.”

He presses his thumb against her shoulder blade. “I know, I know, that was bad. But this time it’d only about be doing things to me.”

“Isn’t that unfair to me.”

“Not if you—” he whispers the last few parts in her ear, just to watch her fidget and blush.

“I…I don’t know if I could do that.”

Lavi swipes her nose. “Only if you’re up for it.” He can dream if she refuses. His imagination is good enough. “And nothing too fast. There’s plenty of time.”

She clasps her hands and seems to chew on the inside of her mouth as she thinks. Finally, she nods. “It might be interesting…”

“Thought you would be. You’ll take to it, I promise.” Lavi kisses her cheek and resumes massaging her back.

___---|||:---___

The first time, she’s nervous. About tying him up. He has to keep insisting that he’s comfortable, that he likes it, and that she’s doing fine. But he doesn’t mind; she learns fast, and by the end, when she is lying on top of him, she admits she liked it.

By the fourth time, she finally activates her Innocence without prompting and can tie him down within seconds. And it turns out she liking hearing him beg.

She does pause at blindfolding. That was new. But she warms up to the idea slowly. The first time, it’s too loose; it slips off and when their eyes meet, he ends up climaxing too fast from the look on her face while her hand is on him.

He thinks he’s one lucky being.

But he’ll never tell her some things. For all the triviality and jokes, he has his reasons for sleeping with Lenalee. He likes her, yes. Even though he isn’t supposed to. Lavi the Exorcist, cared. Bookman Junior, didn’t. He doesn’t think about the day he has to leave and no longer be Lavi. But even so, the longer he says, the more attached he is. The more attached she is.

Bookman Junior may not care about leaving, but “Lavi” will be the one to break her heart.

He knows his thoughts have been amplified in Road’s dreams. Lenalee, lying in a coffin. Lenalee, trying to stab him. Later, she doesn’t speak to him for a week until they talked.

“You scared me, Lavi.”

“Scared myself,” he had replied.

What he does to himself, what he tells Lenalee to do, is like his version of a mea culpa. He doesn’t deserve her or her love. A few months of sleeping with her only strengthened that fact. His ideas for her tying him up wasn’t so much of fixation, but more of a kind of need.

He wants to be honest with her. But he’s not entirely honest with himself.

This is his punishment.

If he could stab himself in a dream, this idea was not all that farfetched, of using her.

Actually, it was quite the terrible idea, especially if she knew about his reasons.

He’d been “Lavi” longer than any other name. It grew on him. A fake personality? Or a true one? He thinks, acts, breathes, walks, talks, as “Lavi.”

The day he leaves, he might just have his skull cracked from the ferocity that she will kick him.

___---|||:|||---___

Lenalee isn’t stupid. The only person possibly better at hiding than Lavi might be Bookman himself. She even reads Allen correctly. Of course she’s bound to read Lavi. Their current lives are a routine. They finish missions, and if they were both available, they would be in Lenalee’s room. Lavi’s sitting on her bed, and so was she. He’s talking nonsense about something while she is oddly quiet. He’s just taken his shirt off and is working on his belt when Lenalee suddenly embraces him from behind.

“Lavi.” Her quiet voice gives him pause.

“Yeah?”

“How long are you staying in the Order?”

“…”

“…”

“Gee, I don’t know. Whenever Bookman decides to pack, I’ll go.” He tries to move, but her arms are still around him. “Lena?”

“You’re going to forget us, aren’t you?”

“No, your stories are written down.”

“Are we just that, ink on paper?”

Lavi stills. His knuckles whiten on the grip he has on his belt. Words that he never wanted to hear again are crowding in ears, stabbing and reaching deep.

He gives her a crooked smile. “It’s complicated, Lenalee.”

“Is it?”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because it’s always bothered me, Lavi.” Her arms are unyielding. “From when we first met. And now we’re together. But for how long? I’d like it to be a long time.”

“It will be a long time.” He licks his dry lips and closes one of hands over hers.

“And then? I can’t love a lie.”

Ouch. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. Everyone lies. But not everyone is born from a lie.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I know emptiness when I see it.”

Wetness on his back; she shudders against him. He has just transgressed one of the laws and she is crying. As much as he is supposed to denounce humans, he has feelings. Lavi acts on feelings.

“If I were to give you the truth,” he begins, stroking her hand, “It would be disgusting. You think you’ve seen war? Death? Rape? Slaughter? A whole city vanish? People becoming animals? Over and over again.” With a sort of gentle force, to pull her arms away but not to injure her, he turns around to face her.

“If you wanted kindness, you should’ve gone to Allen. Really. But you’re here, with me.”

“Are you pushing me away or endearing yourself to me? Because I’m feeling neither.”

“I’m speaking the truth.”

“For once?”

“Lenalee, I—” When something has begun to crack, there is no stopping it. He is a very well-mended, put-together person, but the right points will still take him apart. Other people have done it, Road has done it. Lenalee might be able to do it.

He does not want her to see anymore than she did that day on the Ark.

He has to keep her away from that.

“I know a hundred or more ways to kill a person. I remember everything. I can be a friend one day and an enemy the next.” He traces her trembling lip. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Do you think I’m going to fall apart?”

“No, you’re too tough for that.” His smile is rather mirthless. “And you’re too hard on yourself.”

“And you think too highly of yourself.”

“Really? I thought I was too easy.”

She stills his hand and puts it down. Her tears have stopped. “And I thought that you would be the one to understand me the best.”

“Don’t I?”

“Everyone is afraid of disappointing me.” She looks down at her hands. “They’re afraid to make me cry. They’re afraid of hurting me. Even my brother. But I cry for those who can’t cry. And you, Lavi, is someone I cry for very much.”

“…” He looks everywhere except at her eyes.

“I cry no matter what. And no one can stop it. No matter what you do.”

“You don’t want to see the one behind Lavi.” Even he doesn’t want to think about it. “You’ve seen him before. He would kill you.”

“He would try to kill me,” she corrects him.

“There’s more to fighting than Innocence.”

“And I know more than just Innocence.” Her fingers are tight around his. “But if Lavi isn’t real, then what is?”

He lifts a shoulder. This when he gets caustic. “Well, Lenalady, I’ll let you know when I figure it out, ne?”

She looks as if she is going to slap him. He drops the sarcasm. “I really don’t. Bookmen—we can’t explain too much of we do. But at anytime, Lavi could be erased.”

“Erased?”

“Every chapter in life is a different name.”

“No.” She looks somewhat ill.

“But.” He meets her eyes. “As ‘Lavi,’ I’m the Exorcist. ‘Lavi’ cares. ‘Lavi’ has friends. ‘Lavi’—” He raises her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Loves. And ‘Lavi’ will remember.”

Her eyes are beautiful; they are dark and in the right lights are a lovely shade of purple. He has memorized her features, curves, voice—everything about her.

“I’m sorry.” It would be a terrible thing to smile right now; he does not.

“I hate it.” Her shoulders hunch when she breathes into the palm of her hand, words muffled. “That I can’t see who you truly are.”

“You don’t. I don’t even want to think about it sometimes. ‘Lavi’ is the complete opposite of him. That glimpse you and Allen got—that’s all I’ll let you see.”

“And if I still want to?” Despite being washed in tears, her voice does not shake.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Don’t I?” She can smile just as bitterly as Lavi. “I watched him take down Allen, beat him into a wall, electrify him with Innocence and set on fire. It’s time we had a talk.”

When Lenalee demands that, there is nothing cute. Before her smiles and her love of skirts and chocolate cake and being a girl, she was a person who lost everything and built it back up. She has nearly died before, cut herself, endured. Beautifully so. She had stopped a Level Four akuma and was the first to evolve her Innocence. Her resolve is nothing short of the best.

And Lavi…Lavi he knows can be pathetic. Supportive, but pathetic. Sometimes awful at offering advice. Likes barbequed meat and pretty girls (and widows). Carries a hammer of which he can make terrible, terrible jokes about. Lavi is nothing noble. Then again, was there anything noble about him?

He is aware they have both gone very quiet. She’s still waiting for his answer.

And she is more than unafraid.

Maybe it should scare him that he wants it, for her to be the one to pry at his deepest secret that only Bookman knows about. For her to confront the personality that is so taciturn it rivals Kanda.

Because ‘Lavi’ trusts Lenalee.

His throat follows; he kisses her and she kisses back and when they pull back, they are shaking. Fear? Anxiety? He doubts she’s sure.

He’ll do it.

And pray she won’t die.

To switch, it was rummaging through his own mind, opening and closing various doors. ‘Lavi’ tells ‘him’ not to fuck around with Lenalee. Then he’s pushed away and locked away as well; able to see but unable to do a thing.

The only time control will be ‘Lavi’s’ again is if ‘he’ decides to switch, or if Lavi does something drastic like he did on the Ark. Maybe they ought to have supervision.

But Lenalee has him in her hands, and she knows to deal with him.

___---|||:|||--___

Him.

Free, for a little while. He looks blinks, and looks lazily at Lenalee. This girl was damn pretty, dressed in nightclothes that revealed more than it covered. No doubt ‘Lavi’ liked it. She looks anxious.

“Oh, ’llo,” he offers this greeting.

“Lavi?”

“Nope.”

“Then who?”

“Whatever you wanna call me.” He rolls his shoulders. “I don’t need a name.” He keeps looking her up and down.

“Junior, then. For Bookman Junior.” She’s not daunted by his looks; from Lavi’s memory, she’s always dressed skimpy. No wonder she doesn’t care.

“Sure.” He crosses his arms. “I’m surprised. Lavi’s going to be so upset when he returns.”

“Upset, in what way?”

“Of the many—a hundred—different things I want to do to you.” He reaches out a hand and cups her cheek. Soft and warm. “Like take you. Oh, I can’t be gentle or loving like ‘Lavi’ is but I’d give you a good fucking time. If you know what I mean.”

Girls would slap boys for that, wouldn’t they?

She doesn’t. She merely takes his hand and puts it down. “So you think.”

“Try me, darling.” He leaps off the bed, hand going for a pressure point on her neck to immobilized her.

“Innocence activate.” His hand meets a cold sting that numbs and a flash of iridescent green. Oh, that. Thigh-high boots, the colour of thick blood, protecting her. Her nightdress flares around her.

“Does he like the feisty ones?” He shakes his hand to get rid of the numbness. “I like them more when they beg and they’re wet. I’ve slept with at least twenty…no, forty some people. Girls like you and even guys. Or my personas have and just before I delete them, I take those memories.”

“That’s not what humans are supposed to do.” She shakes her head.

“Humans. I might be one, but don’t except to feel like one.”

“You’re not all there. Lavi managed to pin down.”

“No shit. This job isn’t over so he’s still needed. Bookman would kill me first.” A flick of his head. He’s been cooped up too long. This was a little fun.

“I feel sorry for you.”

“You do that.”

“I pity you.”

He curls his lip. “Really?”

This girl—Lena or Lina? Lena—looks grieved. She’s a crybaby. Probably wet the bed as a little…he reads her and sees her weakness is an older brother, and many others. Someone called Allen (oh, he remembers that little shit.) and another called Kanda and still more. She is diamond and tough until you scratched it with another diamond.

“I do, because Lavi has something you don’t have.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. I know him better than you do.”

He laughs as scornfully as he can. “Lena dear, I think I could like you.”

“You won’t like me when I’m through with you.”

“I’m cowering with fear.” She does have powerful legs. He’ll give her that. But he can pinpoint all of her weaknesses.

“You wouldn’t kill me though.”

Begrudgingly, he gives her a point. “There’s other things worse than death.”

“I’m an Exorcist. I’m aware of that.”

She really isn’t afraid of death.

“Then I’ll be sure to show you what I did to your other friend…Allen Walker.”

“Allen could’ve killed you.”

“He doesn’t murder people.”

“He was holding back.”

“But I won’t.”

“Good.” He slams a fist against the back of her thigh and then stamps on a feet. Quicker than she. Blows to her neck. And finally, a slap in the face.

But he is slammed into a wall; apparently, numbing has no effect on an Innocence. Those damn boots glow and the butterflies flutter and flare out. She might be curled up, but her eyes burn.

Pain blossoms through his skull; he laughs. “All right, so I might’ve underestimated you.”

The girl slowly rises. Blood leaks from a cut, swollen lip. She does not wipe it away; it looks like a slash trailing down to her neck.

“But if you’re trying to teach me a lesson, you’re not doing a good job of it.”

He springs. She meets him and even as he snaps and sprains her foot, her other foot nails his abdomen and head and he nearly loses control. But he’s been around longer than ‘Lavi’. He’s still here. Fuzzy, but there.

Lena picks him up and drops him in the bed. He’s tied down by all limbs, tightly, but not enough to cut off circulation. Tightly enough though, and there’s a pointed boot digging into his chest constricting his breathing.

…

…fine, he might just be little unnerved. What’s with his bad record with the ladies anyway? First that Noah girl and now this Exorcist girl.

Lavi is terrible at his relationships with the females.

“Let’s make a deal.” The heel threatens to pierce skin. “If I can undo you, Lavi returns. If you win, then I’ll let you live when you return Lavi.”

“That’s not fair~” His head hurts.

“Playing with me isn’t fair.”

“Try and undo me then, darling.”

“It’s Lenalee.”

“Make me say your name.” He hisses when she pushes down hard and he bleeds. Hey, this is Lavi’s body too.

“This is for what you did to my face. And you’ll be saying my name when I’m done with you.”

___---|||:|||---___

Lenalee is mad.

But she is calm. Despite the bruising she knows will show up and the dried blood on her face. Her Innocence is her anger. It channels it and leaves the rest of her emotions there. Even if her blood is up and her pulse is fast. This calmness is what gives her courage.

‘He’ really does make her sick. Saying those things. Hurting her. But even more so, hurting Lavi.

Lavi was hers. Well, not in a possessive way, but in that he’s part of her world.

And she’ll wipe that smirk off his face. She removes her boot from his chest, and silently apologizes to Lavi. But she has to do this.

She starts by straddling him and marking him with her teeth, Nibble after nibble, bite after bite. Ears. Nose. Neck. Shoulder. Collarbone. Nipples. Not playful, little tweaks—sharp ones with her canines. It leaves a myriad of hickeys and ‘he’ is slightly flushed. But still smirking.

“Little mouse marks. Hah.”

Mocking her, was he? In a flash, Lenalee tugs down his pants and underwear. She binds the blindfold over him and whispers in his ear. “I’m just starting.” She’s pleased that he twitches away from this.

…Lavi wanted her to do this. In some way, he managed to be able to see this happening. Why else did he convince her to do things to him like tying him up?

But she’s still fresh at this. What if it’s not enough. What if—

She stops the ifs. Instead, she squeezes him by the testicles and pumps him until he is erect. He does not move much, but his buttocks do clench with each stroke of her hand. She releases him, and then slips off her own underwear.

Her own touch on herself is gentle and firm. Usually she isn’t very vocal, but this time she is, purposefully. Soft, air pants and moans. She leans back and drags her booted feet over his thighs as she strokes herself. “A-ah.”

It affects him little; he’s hard and that’s about it. But he’s breathing unsteadily. She presses hard and her heels move dangerously close to his cock. As she comes, quivering, those heels just barely scrape his erection and he makes his first sound.

Lenalee inhales until she has control again. “That could’ve been you.”

He plays stubborn and says no witty comeback.

Her next stage is scraping him all over with her fingernails. Those sting different from bites. She scratches him on the sides and navel, over his chest and his neck, over and over. And then she uses the very tip to lightly touch because he does squirm. She repeats it on his calves and thighs, over and over, side-stepping his most sensitive parts.

“What is my name?”

He says a curse at her in Chinese. She replies by sharply nipping him and he hisses. His face is redder, right? She’s only just getting started though. ‘Lavi’ and ‘him’ might be different, but the body was the same.

Lenalee is going to win.

She reaches up to lick at his bound hands. Tongue caresses finger after finger, then down both arms. Licks to the face and ears. Lapping his neck. Those nipples. Her tongue aches by the time she traces his knees and the inside of his thighs.

Still, she ignores his straining member and the area around it. His navel is only a little less sensitive so she focuses there, curling her tongue and scraping with her teeth. Her gaze catches sight of his hands opening and closing. Encourage, she stops, and then climbs back up to straddle him. With nothing on underneath her dress, she knows he can feel how damp she is. It rubs against him as she places her hands on his shoulders and rotates her hips back and forth.

She still keeps away from his cock. Her weight against him keeps him from moving, as do the bindings. In this position, she can feel every breath he inhales and exhales unevenly. His skin is hot. Sweat sticks to both of them.

“What’s my name?” Her lips are dry.

He turns his head and closes his mouth.

Time for slightly more drastic measures, it seems. Lenalee moves off of him and kneels at the edge of the bed. She breathes on his erection, puffing out air to tickle it. His toes curl and move. He is uncomfortable.

She presses a finger over his perineum. There was an actual jump, and some cursing. Thank goodness Lavi told her about that. Her finger wriggles back and forth slowly, and then inches up to his testicles. She uses both hands to fondle them, nails occasionally scratching. He clenches his teeth, but when he begins to twitch, she tightly wraps her fingers against the base to prevent him from releasing. Oh yes, she picked up on those little signals his body unconsciously makes when he’s close.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Lenalee waits until he’s a little less excited and then with gliding motions, she rubs him up and down, from navel to balls to perineum. Methodically. Gently. The rest of his body is tense and his hips moves with her motion. All the while she avoids his erection as much as possible.

“I know you’re close.”  Her voice is quite steady. “Nearly there but I stopped you. And I won’t let you, not unless you say my name and allow Lavi back.”

“Fuck you.” His voice is hoarse.

Another jab of her finger and the muscles stand out from his neck as he lets out a sort of guttural moan.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Lenalee continues her motions, stopping every time he almost climaxes. He no longer hides his sounds. When she finally wraps fingers around his damp cock, she is sure to clamp down and continue to frustrate him. She teases him with her fingers, stroking, pinching and scratching from base to tip. The tip she presses a finger against, to see him squirm. He curses, but the curses roll over her and she flicks them away. Herself, she is quite aroused again, but she remains touching him.

He seems to give a sigh of relief when she finally goes down and slips his cock between her lips. She sucks at the same, unhurried pace, keeping her hands on him. She still does no let him come, when he thrashes against his bonds.

“What’s my name?”

He cannot reply; he is trying to breathe.

“I asked—” Teeth painfully bite down. “What is my name?”

___---|||:|||---___

He prides himself on thinking under any circumstances. But he has bodily functions, and reacting to stimulus is one of them. This girl has marked him, licked him, touched him, and is still teasing him by refusing to let him come.

She’s not bad.

A twist makes him keen and his shoulder hunch. His arms are sore from tugging. Make that, she’s good.

And she just might leave him tied up, horny. Until ‘Lavi’ is back.

“What my name?” Fifth time and aaaah she was rubbing the area between his balls and rear passage again. Still sucking him. For the twenty-seventh time, he feels himself nearing the edge, only to be shoved back by her. Maybe if he weren’t blinded, he’d be able to know how she’s doing it.

She asks the question again; it hits him over and over and his sense have spiralled into one thing.

He wants to come.

He wants to come hard and fast, screaming.

But he can’t because she has the control that he’s refusing fully relinquish even though it’s being pulled away from him the more he tries to resist.

Humans are weak in this way. He is human. He has this fucking body. Or, when he’s in charge of it. In the depths of his mind, Lavi is kicking. Shoving. Yelling.

And still this Lena girl won’t allow him to come.

He wavers. If he really tries, he can sort of understand. Her tears were for ‘Lavi.’ She cared about ‘Lavi.’ She loved that forty-ninth name in no way his other names have been loved.

It’s the love he barely remembers.

And she believes in ‘Lavi.’ She is hopeful and eager. She has seen humans like he has but she doesn’t hate all of them. She has instead created her own little protective world.

A world he’s tried to violate when he beat up Allen Walker.

He is aware that he is sobbing incoherently, babbling in a mixture of five different languages. The word for “please” slips out.

Please.

Please understand me.

Please don’t hate me.

Please help me.

He’s such an idiot. He’s not a perfect Bookman yet. His weakness.

What is it?

That there’s one person he could possibly care for:

Himself.

He will not kill himself. Why? Because he just might be searching for his heart and for someone to save him.

He grits his teeth and bucks and twists. And something snaps.

“Please, Lenalee.” He said it.

And he slips away, fingers loosening while Lavi pushes forward and slams the door on him.

“I’ll see you again,” her the girl’s last words to him. For now.

He has to admit she’s not a bad person after all. Admires her even. And fears her.

___---|||:|||---___

Lavi returns to ecstasy and wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven. His shout is muffled by her hand even as his eyes rolls and he shakes. When he comes down again, he finds the tears in his eyes and puzzles over them. But not for long; Lenalee is looking anxiously at him.

“Lavi?”

“One and only.” So many things hurt. Particularly his head. So are his hands. He tugs and then Lenalee is there, untying him. His gaze darkens at the bruises she has. “Did he—?”

She shakes her head. “We fought a little. I threw him—you—into a wall.” Her hand rubs at the lump in his head while he deals with the pins-and-needles until he can sit up. He examines himself and finds…bruises, hickeys, and scratches.

“Lena…”

“I had him.” Quietly. “He didn’t win.”

He feels overwhelmed. Probably had to do with the tears already streaming down his face as he pulls her close and raggedly gasps in her hair while she does the same to his shoulder.

“I was scared.”

“I trusted you. I won’t put you through that again.” He gently wipes at the blood on her face, at that cruel mark.

“You have to.”

“Not for a while then. We can wait.”

“Mm. We can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have apologize.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” He swallows until he can breathe more easily again. “I know.” Raising her head to kiss him. She’s still shaking now that the adrenaline’s gone and she as unconsciously deactivated her boots.

“You did really great. If I were there, I would’ve said you were really hot.”

Her laugh is clearer now. “You just like my boots.”

He shifts. “And this.” Tugging at her clothes. She removes them and then leans back against him. They stay like that for a few minutes.

He senses her almost dozing off when he begins caressing her. He can’t go another round, but he doesn’t want to leave her like this.

“Lavi?”

“Your turn.” Just his fingers touching her, and his lips against her mouth. He can feel every breath she takes, every movement she makes. She tenses against him and climaxes with a moan that he seems to draw out of her and swallow down.

“When you leave, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” This feeling, this love. Unless she pushes at ‘him’. She might. And he’ll take it because it’s better for him.

Lavi lays the both of them down and turns off the light. Somehow the room is intact; with only a Lavi-shaped dent in the wall. And even more surprising how no one has heard.

Lenalee strokes his hair and he rubs her back. They don’t say anything now.

There’s no need to.

Author’s Note: Lavi…is hard to pin down. One moment I think I understand him, and then the next he’s doing unpredictable things. We don’t have enough history on Lavi so he required a lot of thinking. My headcanon, as it’s called, is that Lavi has no name. His original personality is a fractured one and made of two people: one is the one who Road “set free” and then attacked Allen, but can revert back to the little child (the part of him that never grew up and still clings to innocence and hope) that was asking Lavi questions and Lavi tells him “you’re the one who began to change”. A person who doesn’t want to give a fuck and most times won’t, but has been challenged by ‘Lavi’ that not all humanity is ugly. I think that Lavi holds feelings for Allen and Lenalee, because they both affected him the most strongly in Road’s dream world and his nameless original self can’t deny it.

I debated whether or not I wanted to show this original self in this story. Then I thought that Lenalee was probably upset enough to take it on and I went with it. This is what I meant by questionable consent.

Next request is Kanda/Alma/Allen. People sure like threesomes and foursomes. Five may be my limit. Any more and I can’t keep limbs and bodies straight. (someday I’ll write Lavi/Allen/Lenalee though. Because.) it’ll be maybe a week before I post it. I need a break.

Chapter Text

Characters: Kanda, Allen

Warnings: The usual warnings that come with these two—Sex, violence, inappropriate uses of furniture and bathtubs.

Author’s Note: I just wanted to write these two idiots. Still working on the Kanda/Alma/Allen one. I wrote this while writing on that other fic as a break. I know, it doesn’t make any sense. Writing fanfic to take a break from fanfic. I contradict myself. Anyway, enjoy, and thank you to all the people who have been enjoying my writing all this time.

Slightly AU. I messed with the timeline. I wanted a more current Kanda and Allen and I have given up trying to understand the recent chapters. Call it creative license. So events are: Kanda, Allen and Johnny are running. Apocryphos is still after them. Timcanpy is not in pieces. And they're sleeping with each other.

POV change occurs; Allen first, then Kanda. Two-part sex.

Now

Allen does not bat an eye when Kanda says he wants him bent over a table, not allowed to touch himself, while Kanda fucks him. That’s simply how common their activities are. In fact, Allen responds to this by saying he wants to take Kanda while they’re bathing because he wants to see how long Kanda can hold his breath underwater.

Someone should keep these two apart. But they’re full of restless energy that sparring and training only half takes out of them. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they know they can’t keep this up forever. One day they’ll make the wrong dare, the wrong suggestion. One day they might fuck themselves over if certain people heard of what they’re doing.

Except, right now, Allen’s on the run and Kanda is stalking—going after, shut up—him and the worst thing they could do is give Johnny a heart attack with their eagerness. Three months of no sex might do that to anyone.

They don’t even bother removing all their clothing. Allen gets as far as pushing everything from waist down off himself and unbuttoning his shirt before Kanda kisses him. He still tastes the same; maybe a little dustier than before, but it was all Kanda. Hot, acerbic, and a little bit bloody because they both tend to end up biting each other’s lips. Allen makes an appreciative sound, his hands working at Kanda’s belt and then dipping into his pants to fondle. They push back and forth until Allen hits the desk with his spine because Kanda has backed him up into it. He yelps.

“You idiot—”

“Shut up.”

“I’m going to die one of these days if you’re not careful with me.”

“From my experience, beansprouts aren’t as shoddy as that. Why else do you think I keep fucking you?”

“Because you like my experience?”

Kanda’s reply is to bite on his neck. He makes an annoyed sound, wondering which deity blessed him with someone who was a biter. At least Kanda doesn’t carry infections in his teeth. He doesn’t seem to carry any infections at all. Must be nice sometimes, having that tattoo.

Not in all cases, though. The shirt is slipping down one shoulder and he can see the little cracks and markings. Kanda’s closer to normal now, more than he’s ever been. But it doesn’t make him anymore brittle. Just a little more careless. A year ago he wouldn’t have bothered to go after Allen. He was made to be the Order’s perfect little soldier, alive by the marvels of science, and bound to it. And yet he was one who said the loudest “Fuck you,” and disappeared…only to come back for Allen.

Their eyes meet; he does have a promise to Allen, after all. Their usual smothering glares momentarily fade, replaced by a sort of odd regard they had for each other. Actually, Allen hates it a little when Kanda looks at him like that. Even while a tongue is lapping at his scars and he has to start counting his breathes, his thoughts run wild. Kanda and Johnny were his last ties to the Order, and the ones he couldn’t cut loose. Johnny made his emotions hurt (because he understood, and because Allen is afraid he’ll kill him). Kanda frays his nerves and bashes his head in, sleeps with him, and tells him “I’ll kill you if you become the Fourteenth” with such ease.

Kanda is the contradiction he loves hating and hates loving. Or technically, not loving at all but loving to fuck. They’re not lovers. They’re not even really friends. They just had a relationship that they didn’t even really talk about. It happened, they’d clean up, and then they go back to arguing until things spilled over and they had another go at it.

Like now. Allen pants and grinds his teeth; Kanda has turned him over (though he did think to slide a pillow under his hips so that hard wood isn’t digging into his skin) and is sliding his oiled finger into him while his other hand is rhythmically pumping his erection with a firm hand.mIt doesn’t take too long for Kanda to slip inside Allen. Then they move. Kanda shoves Allen’s hands in front of him, holding him there. Allen moans, his cheek sticking to the surface of the table as Kanda presses deeper inside of him. His feet are dangling and he can barely shove his hips back in surface.

He quite helpless.

But this sort of helplessness is better than the helplessness he feels when he can’t save those he loves. This sort of helplessness he submits to, if it’s by Kanda.

He can hear every little grunt and inhale the other makes; that body he knows nearly as well as his own presses against his back where he has bare skin (he should’ve removed his damn shirt. Now it’s got wrinkles). The heat in his groin intensifies as he is thrust against a soft, downy surface. He has shut his eyes while his mouth parts with little moans.

Kanda comes first, that bastard. His fingers scrape skin while his other hand threats to break the bones of Allen’s fingers. Allen follows him only when Kanda lets go and he can properly brace himself and grind his hips to completion. He does not move at first; Kanda pulls out to lie next to him on the desk, facing upwards and legs also dangling.

They count the cracks in the walls in their minds.

What did you even think they’d say?

Allen unsticks himself from the table and drops the stained pillow. He turns his head, damp bangs tickling his forehead. “I’m going to fill the tub with water.”

We’re not done.

Kanda’s reply is to raise his middle finger. He doesn’t even look at Allen.

___---|||:|||---___

“You are not using bubbles.”

“But it could be interesting.”

“No.” Kanda throws a crumbled piece of paper, which Allen ducks easily. “They stink like fake flowers.”

And he hates fake flowers.

He sees enough of them in his waking moments. Even now, they float around. Not as massively as they sometimes did. At least they never are on the people; he’d have a hard time keeping himself from brushing them off people. Those who are going to hell see these flowers. Huh.

He didn’t make any plans for hell. Life—and the Order—handed them that. He wonders where Exorcists are supposed to go. Maybe heaven if they were doing God’s work. Maybe some of them ended up in purgatory.

He doesn’t care. If he’s dead, that’s the end.

He and Allen are still in the room, listening to the water fill up. Allen is sprawled on the ground, finally naked and Kanda is mentally appreciating that body. He is idly doodling on a sheet of paper.

“Oi.”

“You could call me by my name, Kanda.”

“Do you actually have any plans?”

The beansprout raises his head. “Why are you asking?”

“Tch. I’m not a hobo.”

Allen laughs. “No one asked you to become one.” He still has shadows under his eyes.

“If I’m going to be one, at least tell me where you’re headed. Or are you still as fucking awful at directions as you were before?”

“Kanda, if I were that bad, I might be drowning in the ocean right now.”

“Or dead.”

“That too.”

“Do you even care about yourself?”

“Do I look like I’m hurting myself?”

“Normal people do not run way from a giant organization to play clowns.”

“And normal people do not have self-healing tattoos on their chests or chase convicted criminals,” Allen smoothly counteracts.

Forget it. Kanda doesn’t beat Allen in words. He’ll take weapons or sex any day for a competition. “Maybe I should let Johnny have another go at you and his feelings.”

“Maybe.” But he sees the twitch in Allen’s eyes, the one he always does when he’s ready to redirect a conversation.

“You made Lenalee cry.”

“Are you saying you didn't?”

“She hit me.” He still feels the punch. “You’ll probably need stitches when she’s through with you.”

“Hmph. Maybe.” The tip of the pencil snaps.

“I ought to punch you right now.”

“Kanda.” Allen puts his pencil down and rests his chin in his hand. “Let’s not talk about Lenalee anymore.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“That?”

“She see you as someone important, but you threw that in her face when you left.”

“I know.” He stands up and begins to pace. “I thought it out before I left. Being locked up gives you plenty of time to think.”

Kanda knows that all too well. “Maybe I should march you back so you can apologize.”

Allen stops and he laughs loudly. Shrilly. It sounds so unnatural that Kanda strides over to him and pushes him against a wall to check his eyes.

“What are you—”

“Sh.” He lets him go when he sees angry, confused gray eyes.

“See, that proves the point. You don’t trust me.” Allen waves at himself. “I could become a Noah at anytime, and I might end up killing Lenalee, or worse. I could take down the whole Order. And you ask why I don’t want to return.”

“All right!” Kanda turns away. “But it’s not just that. You’re running from someone, aren’t you.”

“I’m not.”

“Fuck you; you can’t lie to me.”

“I’d tell you but I can’t. People have died because I was around. Like my Master. Like Link.” He’s pacing again.

He almost says that fucking Vatican dog is still alive, but he decides against it. “I can’t die.”

“Kanda, you have one foot in the grave.”

“I still can survive longer than you, Moyashi.”

“Allen.”

“Whatever.” Kanda grips him by the arm to keep him from pacing anymore. “I’m killing you first, remember?”

Much to his annoyance, Allen actually begins crying. At least they’re not loud sniffles, but the silent ones that track down his face.

Was the damn Beansprout always this sentimental?

“Damn you, Kanda.”

“I’ll join you in hell and you can damn me all you want.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Now you sound childish.” He leaves sympathy for Lenalee. He gives support and little else.

“It’s as if you want me to try killing you.”

“Don’t we always?”

“Hah.”

“Then try killing me now.”

He lets Allen kiss him. Lets him manhandle him until he’s pressed up against wall. Lets Allen bite his lip so they both swallow blood and tears. The salt flavor was the same, anyway.

Allen is usually gentle and careful with people. He smiles. He laughs. He’s polite. People love him. People distrust him. People betrayed him.

But him? He’s Kanda. He distrusted that smiling face ever since they met. Even now, his trust is reluctant. He thinks of Allen most of the time as a mission. But he does hate these happy idiots who believe than can save the world. Except Kanda’s an idiot too, trying so hard to prove those idiots wrong.

Those idiots, he’s drawn to. He ends up defending them. He ends up putting his head out there. There is nothing gentle when he drags the fingernails of his left hand down Kanda's chest, leaving red scratches in their wake.

So maybe it was sympathy in part when he lets Allen touch him and shove as they slip on bathroom tiles and land the water. Dampness clings to them, but nothing compares to the wetness of Allen’s eyes.

He did have the clearest eyes Kanda’s ever seen. Nothing ever clouded them. He’s willing to lose himself in their intensity as Allen strokes them together, slickened with water and soap. He makes a guttural rasp in the back of his throat, his hands bringing their chins together for another kiss. Allen always carries a hint of sweetness on his tongue. Kanda actually hates it. Sweet things are disgusting. But this sweetness isn’t extremely sweet. It’s rather sad.

Fuck, was he getting sentimental? Stupid beansprout’s getting to him or something. So he pushes away and slip beneath the water to suck Allen. He bites and fists until Allen thrashes underneath and nearly is undone, but Kanda has to come up for air. His lungs burn and that’s when Allen kisses him again. This time it’s bittersweet and he thinks this is better even as his eyesight is hazy with sparks.

“You nearly got me off,” Allen murmurs. “How’d you do it?”

“Practice.”

“Swimming?”

“I had a week to learn.” He was reborn in a pool and has fallen in a canal. Water hates him and he hates it, so he learned to defeat it.

Then Allen starts pushing a finger in him and he stills. The water laps around them at their skin. Kanda breathes, shoulders and chest rising. He combs his hair while the other adds in more fingers, and then he nearly loses it.

“Is this the closest I can come to killing you?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Allen does just that. He buries himself in, fingers gripping Kanda’s hips. Water sloshes out as they grunt and shove. Kanda keeps his hands on the sides. He licks his lips and watches Allen work in and out.

Not a lot of people can say they’ve fucked him. He doesn’t even really like it, but Allen knows him well enough to keep him returning. Currently he is rubbing a damnable soft sponge over Kanda’s cock as he thrusts.

Payback for that pillow, probably. He doesn’t complain. He ends up coming first again, spilling over fabric and hands before it disappears into water as he shudders and almost kicks Allen in the head. Allen drops the sponge and tightly shoves a few times before he gasps and Kanda silences him with his mouth. Again, why do they keep kissing if Kanda hates the taste?

Fucking voices in his head. He’ll do whatever he wants. And Allen seems to like it. Not many things he does for him, but this is one of them.

Allen lays on him; they are unmoving again. The water in the tub cools and they really ought to get out before Johnny returns.

“Kanda.”

“What.”

“When I do go back…keep Lenalee from killing me.”

“As if.”

“It was worth asking.”

“You deserve it, Moyashi.”

“Shut up, Jerkanda.”

And for two minutes, right now, he believes they really might be okay. Eventually. That they’ll both survive everything and can go back.

It’s nice to sometimes hope. It’s better than thinking about dying.

Author’s Note: a few days and I’ll post that request. A threesome is troublesome…no pun intended.

Chapter Text

Characters: Kanda/Allen/Alma

Warnings: Threesome sex. Mirrors. Dirty talking?

Author’s Notes: AU; Alma lives and is an exorcist, the killings in the Asian Branch never happened, the Second Exorcist Project is successful, etc. I tried to keep this one from getting too dark. This is a very curious ship. I’ll have to write it again in the future to become better acquainted with it.

Morning

Allen wakes up to a finger poking at his cheek. “Nmrgh?” He shoves at it, voice heavy with sleep.

“You drool.” That voice is a voice of a morning person.

“D’not.”

“Did too.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” That voice is the voice of a non-morning person who is prone to acts of violence.

“Aw, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Yu?”

“Tch.” And Kanda shoves at Alma.

Allen nearly topples out of the bed as a result. “Hey, I don’t want to hit my head this early in the morning.” He reaches over to poke at Kanda.

“That’s what you get for taking up the most room in my bed.” The dark-haired exorcist sits up. You have to admire him; tousled hair, drowsy eyes, even a flush from sleeping. That dark hair lies against almost flawless skin, curling over a large tattoo and resting on fine muscles.

“At least I don’t kick, unlike someone I know.”

Alma puts on an injured look. “Did I? Maybe you deserved it.”

“How can you say that after everything I’ve done for you.”

“Why are the two of you still talking?” Kanda runs his fingers through his hair. “And so damn loudly.”

Allen rolls his eyes. “Just once, I wish you weren’t in a bad mood the instant you wake up. Maybe I should’ve left after last night.”

“You brat. After I let you stay when Alma insisted we all do this, too.”

“It sounded fun.”

“It won’t be happening again.”

“You’re so depressing.” Allen tugs at the blankets, intending to turn over and maybe a sleep a little more. They had the next three days off. A fierce yank leaves him blanket-less and he sits up, ready to snap—

Alma is laughing. “No wonder you’re upset.”

Kanda has the sheets firmly gripped. “Shut it, Alma.”

“What?” Allen rubs a hand over his eyes.

“None of your damn business.”

“Morning wood~”

That’s too good to pass up. Allen smirks. Widely. “Do you want some help with that?”

“The two of you can leave.” Kanda is firmly tucking himself back into the blankets and pulling them over his head.

“Yu—”

“Go away.”

“Fine, we’ll leave you alone. Me and Allen can have fun instead.”

Allen opens his mouth to protest (it’s morning and they just got through a night of this), only to be kissed. Alma’s kisses are always eager and warm; it’s hard to resist them. He makes an appreciative sound as Alma places hands on his back and a tongue presses against his.

“So…we’ll ignore Yu on his side of the side,” Alma says when they break apart to breathe. “And see how long he can ignore us.”

“Fair enough.” He wants to see Kanda uncomfortable, that’s always a plus. Not to mention he often does not have just Alma’s attention on him. The other exorcist is like a dream lover. Good at pleasing, easy to please, open to far too many suggestions, and made sounds that made your mouth dry, knees shaky, and groin uncomfortable.

He noses at Allen and pushes him down. Then he takes Allen’s left hand and slips those fingers into his mouth, eyes never leaving Allen’s. They held a different intensity from Kanda’s, who always seemed to be daring you to go over the edge. Alma’s held a gentler look, one that simply wanted to see you come apart so that you drowned in them. In just one minute, Allen is hard and stroking himself as that eager tongue laps over his sensitive skin. He’s disappointed when Alma stops, but he can’t complain when he start lavishing attention to his neck and check.

“Have you ever seen your face when you come?”

“No. Why?” He grips himself and smoothes out the small droplet of moisture leaking from the tip of his cock.

“It’s a very good face.”

“You like it?”

“Mhm. I do. So does Yu.”

“Really?” He snorts. “He never says.”

“Oh, he does.” Alma glances over at the lump in the bed. The only sound that comes from Kanda is his usual “Tch.”

“I should left you see yourself.”

“If you think that’s doable.”

“Of course.”

Before Allen can ask what he means, his legs are hoisting over Alma’s shoulders, and he tells himself to relax as Alma reaches for oil and dribbles it over his fingers in a generous amount.

And still Kanda does not move, not even as Alma sucks Allen and has him moaning as he dips fingers in and out of his ass.

“Allen~”

“Nn?”

“You have to sit up.”

He doesn’t want to move, he wants to be penetrated. But he pushes himself up.

“Here.” Alma dangles his legs over the side of the bed, moving his fingers over his erection to slicken it. Allen manuevers  himself slowly down onto Alma, breath coming out in pants. Only then does he see what Alma means: across the room from them is a mirror. Why Kanda has a floor length mirror in his room, he’ll never know. But at this moment, he doesn’t care about the whys or hows.

He watches at Alma licks up the side of his neck. “Like it?”

A slow, shaky nod.

“And this?” Alma thrusts up; Allen sees himself arch, before arms wrap him, pinning him to Alma. “That’s what you look like.”

He glimpses at his reflection; flushed face, glazed eyes, and over-eager body. He catches sight of the Fourteenth and it briefly unsettles him, but Alma draws his attention away by caressing his painfully-hard cock.

“Watch.” And he rocks his hips. Allen rocks back and forth, into the erection in him and the hand that was fondling him. He can’t even brace himself, so Alma continues to hold him as they move.

In the corning of his eyesight, he sees Kanda has emerged. Watching them.

Allen is a fairly private person. More private than most people, actually. Secrets upon secrets and a smile to hide them all. But here, he lays his body bare for these two. And as he reaches his peak, warmth and bliss fills him while he watches himself come, overflowing, in that hand, while in that embrace with an erection buried in him. He cries out softly, and Alma follows him, breath hot against his ear. They slump over together.

As his heart rate slows, he feels Alma pull out of him. “Jealous, Yu?”

The bed jolts; he raises himself on his arms to see Kanda tackling Alma and pinning him down.

“For that,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck your face.”

“But now I’m tired~”

“Too bad for you.” Kanda straddles Alma and pushes his erection against a compliant mouth that takes him halfway in. He snaps his hips in a rapid pace.

A little too eagerly. Allen knows he’ll probably pay for it some other time, but he reaches out to form a circle against the base of Kanda’s erection.

“Moyashi, what the hell—”

“Allen.” For one second, he’s tempted to see if between him and Alma, they could get Kanda to beg, but the repercussions would be…overwhelming, to say the last. They might spend months paying for that.

Maybe in a year if they were still doing this. But least he can do a little.

“It’s not fair if you come that quickly.” Allen kicks the bottle of oil closer to himself and easily unscrews it with a hand. Kanda looks murderous.

He presses in a finger at the time into the top of the bottle, then rubs his fingers together to even it. “Do you agree, Alma?”

Alma shifts his head into to speak. “I fully agree. And Allen’s going to be the one to suck you off, not me.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, you.”

There was too much of the word ‘you’ being used, Allen decides as he watches Kanda argue briefly with Alma before he gives him and climbs off him.

“Make it good, Moyashi.” Kanda tangles his fingers in Allen’s hair, jerking him forward.

“I told you so many times, it’s Allen, you idiot.” He grazes Kanda’s cock with his teeth, especially over the glans. Then he takes it in while rubbing his fingers over the testicles. Kanda shifts and Allen has to breathe slowly to keep his gag reflex at bay; a glance upwards lets him know Alma is touching Kanda’s nipples.

“Look. At the mirror.”

He looks. Kanda looks less like his usual self, caught between two people giving him attention and his face is quite flushed. Allen takes that moment to slide his fingers against the area between balls and rear passage, just to see him stiffen, hold his breath, and arch his back.

“You’re quite beautiful, you know that?” Alma teases him, his fingers tracing random little patterns over Kanda’s skin. “Just look at you. If I hadn’t already come, I would do you now.”

Kanda’s response is a moan. But that also might be because Allen has begun to work a finger into him, gradually pushing deeper.

“I’d take you from behind, and pull you by the hair. You’d be facing this mirror. Maybe next time we should be pressed up against it so that when you come, it’ll be like coming all over yourself.”

Allen keeps a hand clamp on Kanda’s erection; he’s on the third finger and jabbing at the prostate while his lips continues to suck. Kanda is shuddering against them.

Alma has his hand on Kanda’s chin. “I’d also want to see you touching yourself while you look at a reflection. You’re so beautiful, you could be attracted to yourself. Wouldn’t you say?”

“S. Stop that. Cut the nonsense.” But his tone of voice infers it is not nonsense as well. “And let me come already, damn it!” He rolls his hips.

Allen nearly chokes but he manages not to. He exchanges looks with Alma, and releases his grip on Kanda. At the same time, he curls his tongue and pushes his fingers, unravelling Kanda instantly.

“See?” Alma keeps Kanda’s head straight so that he has no choice but to watch himself as he gasps and Allen swallows. Some trickles down and he wipes it away. It’s not usual that Kanda is this affected. Yes, he might react to sex, but seldom is he this shaky and breathless.

“I should really throw you out.” Kanda shoves at Alma half-heartedly even as he drags a hand through his messy bangs. “And you.” His foot nudges Allen’s side.

“I should be getting a thank you,” Allen protests as he sits up; he can still taste Kanda and this is the part he doesn’t like about it. “You nearly choked me.”

“This day would be better without you mouthing off.”

"And I thought you liked my mouth when it was on you."

“Can’t you two wait at least an hour before starting up?” Alma cuts in. He finally releases Kanda from his grip. “It’s not very fair to me.”

Kanda shakes his hair out and stands. “Fine. I’m showering. And next time,” he points at Alma, “You’re the one getting fucked from behind. I’m serious.”

“He’s so gracious,” Allen says as the door slams on them. Nice of Kanda to first claim the shower.

“Would you believe me if I said he used to be worse?”

“…Maybe. What changed him?”

“Let’s say when, while fighting, we had a draw.”

“And then you were friends?”

“Something like that.” Alma scratches the back of his head. “It’s not just you that he’s threatened to kill.”

“I feel comforted.” Allen’s voice is dry. He would ask more, but he knows that there are just things that Kanda and Alma don’t talk about.

Alma’s response is to lightly kiss him on the nose. “He doesn’t mind you. Not like the others.”

“Are you…truly all right with this?”

“Yes? I was my idea.”

“Ah…” A blink.

He gets a sly look. “I knew that you would be very, very good in bed by just looking at you.”

Allen responds by hitting him with a pillow, and the whole thing just escalates from there as they shred all of Kanda’s pillows.

Needless to say, Kanda isn’t pleased and threatens to kick them out ass-naked.

It wouldn’t be a typical morning in the Black Order without them fighting, anyway.

Author’s Note: Next one is Cross/Anita, and after that I’ll be opening requests again.

Chapter Text

Characters: Cross/Anita

Warnings: Sex? Yeah, sex.

Author’s Note: This story asked to be dark and sad. I could not say no.

There are POV switches. The order is Cross – Anita.

Hate

No one in the Order has it harder than the Exorcists. They were the hands and feet of the Order, the ones that moved. The ones that were injured. The ones that fell. The ones that could be replaced, yet were still irreplaceable. Time moves, and they grew smaller in number and greater in danger. Danger? The Order, an organization dedicated to fighting evil? Being desperate will do that. Experiment after experiment. Death after death. The only people more expendable were the Finders, who had it pretty hard as well and were the most underappreciated part of the Order. Even the scientists are valued higher, as are the medical teams.

Then who is the group that is almost never considered? The supporters. Patrons, one could call them. Often they were rich. Often they believed they were helping the work of God. The Church is never short of money, anyway. The supporters are one reason they're surviving.

And so Cross gets some of his money this way. He is stylish and dangerous. Women are attracted to his attitude. Men quietly seethe in jealousy. He is well aware of how conspicuous he is, and he likes it. Level Two and higher Akuma stay away from him; they leave the stupid Level Ones for him to easily take down.

It also helps he has the most patrons. How else do you think he pays for nearly everything (damn, he really needs an apprentice to shove everything onto)?

He does not count the number of people who have fallen in love with him. Male and female alike, they come to him and he treats them to a very good time, to say the least.

He does count the number of people he has fallen in love with.

They number in five.

So what is the sort of woman that Cross likes? Confident women. Experienced women. Vocal women. Yet he also likes the shy ones. The innocent ones. The silent ones. He doesn’t really have a type.

He sleeps with the beautiful ones. Sometimes it is a lady with too much make-up. One time it was a slip of a girl with a birthmark on her face. What mattered about them is that they believed themselves to be beautiful, and he accepts that. It is stupid to keep count of the number of people he has laid with, so he doesn’t. But he really does remember the beautiful ones, the ones that dare him.

The ones he liked were those who were unafraid to look him in the eye when they spoke to him.

Anita always did.

He once asked her why her mother named her Anita. Hardly a Chinese name; it had European roots.

She replies that her mother found it in a book and was so charmed by it that she bestowed it upon her daughter. She does not know what it means.

Cross looks it up for her; Anita is a diminutive of Ana, then Anna, then finally Hannah, and meant “grace” or “favor.” He tells her it suits her, as he traces her chin while she looks, unsmiling, up at him.

She did not love him at first. In fact, the first time he visited her, years after sleeping with her mother (yes, he made sure she wasn’t some illegitimate child of her. He has his own set of morals), she almost turned him down until he spent the whole night outside the door and dealt with some people who had been bothering her place for weeks. He even let Mahoja punch him in the chin before she finally let him in.

He visits once a month. She says little. They talk about ordinary things, about the Order. She never asks him about his mother, even though he’s more than willing to tell her about the mother she’d lost.

They were dancing a careful dance; intimacy was allowed, but not held for long. She does not stay in his grasp. She is elusive and does not seem to fall for his charms.

He is undaunted.

He once asks if she hates him.

Her reply is quick. Yes, she does.

He tells her she’ll be a good woman.

She brushes him off.

___---|||:|||---___

There is no need to tell of what Anita does. She is a prostitute. What does that say about her? That she is paid to entertain whomever has paid. She is thankful she has inherited from her mother, and that there are no men who tell her what she can or can do. And she has Mahoja, who is better than any guards.

She understands men very well. Many send her gifts. Many admire her. Many have asked her to marry them. She politely declines all. She knows a body well, better than some know their own bodies. She is rich (and Cross comes too often borrowing money) and in good health. She is beautiful and expensive and has respect (or as much respect that can be paid to women of her profession). She has only received two death threats, which have both been dealt with. She supports The Church, and while they disapprove of her profession, they do not turn her away.

Anita ought to be happy.

If not for that man. Cross comes and goes. He is…unforgettable. In appearance and in bed. He both pays and takes money. He drinks and smokes and it takes hours to air out the rooms. He can joke, but at the same time say things that make her run hot.

Her mother fell for him and she can see why. There would be something wrong if you didn’t feel a thing for him.

Even she.

She ignores it, because what can he even do for her? The Great General Cross Marian of the Black Order is not bound to her in any way.

And yet she wonders why she is irritably upset when he does not show up for nearly a year.

“I thought you hated me,” he says when she steps on his foot with a sharp heel upon arriving. He doesn’t even wince.

“I still do. But it is annoying to keep track of people who have a tendency to disappear without saying anything.”

“My sincerest apologies.” He kisses the back of her hand and hands her a box.

“Don’t think that you can buy me with things like this.”

His lips brush against her cheek. “They’re merely a gift.”

She opens the box to find a pair of very fine, delicate gold earrings. Earrings that she has wanted for a while.

He remembered their time together in Russia.

“Thank you.” Flatly, to hide how she is affected by his gesture. He offers his arm, and they walk in, arms linked. She keeps her back straight and head high.

“So proud and fine.”

“I always am.”

“Even more so, after such a long time. You have grown.”

“And you have grown thinner.” She has noticed the slight hollowness in his cheeks.

“Fighting a war does that to you.”

“And how is that going? We hear news and it is always grim.”

“It is how it has always been. The Order will continue to live on.”

“Do you ever retire?”

Cross laughs. “Only in death. We aren’t as fortunate as you ordinary people.”

“I am hardly an ordinary woman.”

“No, you are not.” He stops and tugs her so that they face each other. “I think your mother would be proud of you.”

“I would not know.” How could she? She was eighteen when her mother died from an Akuma attack. She is now twenty-seven. Nine years, and her mother carried many secrets to her grave.

“She would be,” Cross repeats. “There’s nothing she wouldn’t be proud of in you.”

Really. “Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that to please me?”

“Both.”

“Men like you are men that I never trust.”

“I’m hurt.” He rubs the inside of her wrist, where her skin is very smooth. “Do you still hate me?”

“What do you think?” Bells that are woven into her headdress tinkle as she turns her head.

“I don’t think you ever hated it. More of a dislike for what I do.”

“What you do is none of my business.”

“Anita.” He always rolls her name over his tongue too slowly. But she grudgingly likes how he says it, for most people here do not pronounce her name right. “What if I told you that you’re special?”

Anita is unmoved. “What about hundreds of others that you have said that to?”

“I say it only because they asked me. But you,” he catches her chin in his hand, “you have never asked me.”

No, she never did. “I have never needed another person to tell me that I am special.”

“Of course. But everyone likes hearing it.”

“Coming from you?”

“Yes, coming from me.”

“I suppose I could say you are special in that you are my most frequent guest.”

With his hand on her chin, she can feel the vibrations when he laughs. “That’s good.”

“Is that really something to be proud of?”

“Why not?”

“Cross Marian, you are very strange man.”

“Only to some. You’re special because you don’t seem to ever fall for my charms.”

“One cannot charm the whole world.”

“I try my damn best.” She surmises that he will kiss after this statement, and she is right. A pair of hands grip her shoulders. She breathes in alcohol and cigarettes—the expensive kind—and cologne. Unlike some of the people she has had to service, he does not push heedlessly. His lips are deliberate and unhurried, for he knows what he likes, wants, and will get. He takes his time. She responds accordingly, their tongues pressing against each other. Fabric rustles; without her realising, he has untied her belt and her robe falls down against her feet, leaving her in stockings.

Anita pulls his gloves off, and works open his coat. These Order uniforms always had so many buttons and clasps, which she has long memorized from her time before with him. At least his shirt is easier. He rolls his shoulders when she is done, and then she can slip her hand against firm chest muscles.

“You really are thinner,” she says when they pull apart.

“Taking care of a brat will do that to you.”

“You had an apprentice, then.” She rests the palms of her hands over his ribs, splaying her fingers.

“Sent him off to the Order and now he’s trying to find me,” He cups her breasts and bends his head. “He’ll be fine because I was a good master.”

Somehow, she doubts this, but his mouth is doing more interesting things than talking. This is another thing that sets him apart. He doesn’t only take his pleasure; the other party has a share as well. And what a share it is. She finds herself leaning into him for support as his tongue circles an areola and teeth tease at a nipple. Her own hands are busy with his belt and loosening his pants. Shoes are shed and he pulls away to let her take down her elaborate headdress that is woven into her hair, while he strips. They move systematically, having done this so many times.

Click, click. Strings of beats clatter as she sets the heavy piece down and shakes out her long hair. It hangs down to the back of her knees like a curtain. When he lays her hair, he lifts her hair from her neck in one large sweep, arranging it neatly next to hair.

“What if I told you something else?”

“I have heard everything possible.” Her legs part to let his hand dip between her thighs. He rubs the skin there, warming it and leaving tingling sensations in their wake. “Even proclamations of love from some of those fools.”

“And if I said I love you like no other?”

She laughs. She actually laughs in a way she has not laughed for a long time. She laughs until there are tears in her eyes and her sides ache, while he only looks at her.

“Goodness, if I had known that would make you laugh, I should’ve said it earlier.”

“I didn’t think you’re capable of loving.” Anita wipes her eyes. “Cross Marian, loving me?”

“I’m human and human fall prey to emotions.”

“This is…” she tries to find the right word in English to express how she feels, and cannot find one. “I did not think you would say such a thing.”

“So you don’t believe me.”

“Should I?”

Cross lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and he slides a finger down her crotch from top to bottom. She sighs as pleasant sensations travel through her.

“Have you ever believed me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe you should stop talking and—” She gasps and grips her bedsheets as he slips a finger in. “Why do I let you visit?”

“Because you find me irresistible.” He smiles, while twisting his finger. Dampness clings to her. He must be playing at something. But two can play at a game, and she lifts herself up, to cup his erection with one hand and begin to rub it.

“No, you find me irresistible.”

“That too.” He adds a finger, and she tightens her leg muscles to keep from shivering. “Anita.”

“Yes?”

“I really do love you.” He removes his fingers and gently moves hers away. Placing his hands on either side of her side, he lowers his hips until the tip of his erection touches her entrance. She tilts herself upwards to let him dip in. Usually at this point, she closes her eyes, or looks up at the ceiling, or looks somewhere else. Most people didn’t like it if you looked them in the eye.

But Cross pats her cheek. “Look at me,” he says in Chinese. It is so compelling that she does. His face is ever hidden by the odd half-mask he wears, but the one eye that she can see burns in its intensity.

He rocks against her, their gazes locked. This is new. He has never asked to look at her. That eye feels as if it were searching her soul, holding her there, while it sorts her out. Yet at the same time, she can look into his soul.

It’s a heavy one. Heavier than he lets on. It is buried underneath all that wine and tobacco, and the love of sex, but Cross Marian is not as unburdened as some might think. He is worrying about something. He is tired. But despite that, there is a love towards her that she can tell. Even his actions. He moves slowly, not roughly at all. Every roll of hips is calculated and meant to take her higher. His hands massage her breasts while his mouth kisses her everywhere else. She is being appreciated. She is not just someone he seeks for sexual relief.

This is making love.

And her body is responding. She grips his forearms, then his shoulders, and finally his waist. She wraps her legs around his back to keep him there. They undulate together. The dance has changed, and for the first time, the intimacy is all about knowing the other person.

They are still looking into each other’s eyes, the contact unbroken as they move as one. Anita has never felt this intensity before. There is no reference point, no experience. Yet they know what they are doing.

He comes first, and amazingly all the way to the end, his pace has neither slowed nor quickened. A thumb over her clitoris helps her reach climax as well. Their gazes have not broken. She feels boneless and a little muted even as he pulls out and they finally are not looking at each other.

Thankfully, he’s got enough sense to not say “I told you so” to her. She can still hear it in her mind.

“…I am not the first person you loved.” Her throat is dry and so her voice cracks a little.

“No, you are not. But you are the only person alive right now that I love.”

“Am I supposed to be touched?”

“You can feel however you want to.” He seems unperturbed by her answers.

She has a good guess why. Cross Marian has no self-esteem problems. Whether anyone likes or does not like him, it is like water off a duck’s back. He admits what he wants, and takes rejection graciously. Was there ever man like him.

Cross pulls the blankets over them both, then lights up a cigarette. “I’m going to Edo.”

“Edo? But there is nothing there.”

“I have plans that I need to carry out.”

“You want to borrow a ship and crew from me.”

“Yes.”

“It will cost you.”

“Done.”

She frowns. “Those that go do not return.”

“I always return, Anita.” He exhales a thin stream of smoke, and then looks at her. “Worried?”

“A little.”

“So you do care.”

“I could be losing my steadiest customer,” she easily counteracts.

“I don’t die easily.”

“Maybe I should go. I know the seas.”

“No.”

“I’m not weak.”

Cross brushes her hair away from her face. “I didn’t say you were. But if someone goes with me, whose going to wait for me to come back?”

This surprises her. He’s not sentimental; if he tries to be, she suspects him of trying to appeal to her emotions. Yet, he is not teasing. His tone of voice is frank.

He cares about her.

Genuinely so.

Anita says nothing at first, but draws him closer so that her head is pillowed on his chest. “I hate you.”

“Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s only when they fall asleep that she realizes she might understand, just a little better, how her mother felt about him. Something tells her that Cross will outlive her, that she will not be the last person he loves. Cross had been her mother’s strength, and unknowingly, hers as well.

What a man. What a sneaky bastard of a man, creeping into her life and in her bed.

Author’s Note: Requests now open. Please refer to the first chapter for the list of kinks/pairings I don’t write. Everything else is fine; I will also repeat pairings I’ve already written. However, don’t please don’t request ot4/ot5 for the time being because I need a break from those. However, ot3s can be requested.

Chapter Text

Characters: Lavi/Allen

Warnings: Striptease and blindfolds. Poor Lavi…

Author’s Notes: Request fill. This is the third Laven I’m writing, and the third fic I’ve written with Lavi and blindfolds. It must be common kink that I wasn’t aware. But who doesn’t want Lavi being blindfolded, or him blindfolding someone else? And who would not want Allen doing a striptease? So you can count this as a sequel to the two other Laven fics I’ve written because I like continuity.

After doing a number of dark fics, this one is definitely more PWP to make up for it. Last of all, POV is mostly Lavi’s.

Provocative

Allen is a person of many trades. He can gamble. He can fight. He can juggle. He can find any job. He’s one of the few people in the Order who understands more than just killing Akuma. Having a crazy master who kicks you and makes you pay his debts will do that to a person.

He is also very good at getting back.

Lavi really should’ve expected it, for that stupid duster.

___---|||:|||---___

Lavi is tackled the instant he is back from a mission and has finished submitting his report to Komui. Thankfully, they are alone and Allen weighs less than him, and so they manage to not fall in a heap on the floor.

“Missed me?”

“Plenty.”

“You sound like you have something planned.”

“Oh, I do.” Allen pulls away and tugs his hand. “Are you free?”

“I—” he pauses. “Yes.”

“Good.” And only Allen can ever smile that way.

He lets himself be led to Allen’s room. As the door clicks shut, he kisses Allen, hands weaving through messy white hair. Allen kisses back, but when Lavi begins tug at the bottom of Allen’s shirt, the Exorcist pushes his hands away.

“No?”

“We’re doing something else. And you’re stripping.”

Lavi raises an eyebrow. “Did I do something?”

“Did you forget?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll remember soon enough. Now take your clothes off.”

“No need to get bossy, Beansprout.” He drops his scarf and begins the process of getting out of his uniform. Too many buckles and buttons. Johnny must have been having a field day while designing this.

“Allen.”

“Sure, sure.” Lavi removes his buttons and pulls off pants and boxes down with one fluid motion. “Happy?”

“Almost.” Allen reaches over and pulls Lavi’s headband to cover his eye. “Now I am.”

“…you’re not still annoyed about last week, are you?”

“So now you remember?”

His foot hits the bed and he is pushed down onto it. “Yes, of course I do. This is déjà vu. Would it help if I said sorry?”

“Well, that’s good you remember. And no, sorry won’t help—” Lavi tenses as a finger swipes over his throat. “Because this is revenge.”

Fuck. He says this in his head as hands assault his skin. They tickle in all the unexpected ways and he has to think about cold showers in order to keep from squirming. When you don’t have sight, your sense of touch is heightened. The sensation of a warm tongue licking his thighs almost makes him laugh because it tockles.

“Allen…”

“Yes?”

“How is this revenge?”

“I could make it worse and tied you down.”

“Maybe you should. Because I could just take this off my face and hold you down.”

He’s only joking, but he then he feels something wound around his wrists and they are bound to the headboard. “You—!”

“You asked for it.”

Lavi makes the most hurt look he can manage. “Don’t let me suffer too long.”

“I’ll think about it.” And then Allen begins pumping his cock with a fluid, practiced motion that has him gripping fabric and headboard for dear life.

He makes a strained sound when Allen releases him. “Hey,” he protests.

“Just wait.” The headband leaves his eyes, and he sees Allen, flushed and still fully dressed, kneeling in front of him.

“You look uncomfortable.”

“Not as uncomfortable as you’ll be.”

And Lavi can only watch as Allen puts his hands on his own body, tracing from neck to groin, then thighs. He rolls his hips and turns so that Lavi can see those fingers drag across his ass, up his back, and back over his chest. The tight clothes he wears leaves very little to the imagination, especially that bulge in the groin area. It also helps that those pants were white. So when Allen begins rubbing the bulge with his left hand, the dampness is very apparent. He presses against his own hand, while his other hand pinches at a nipple.

Lavi tugs at his bonds and is extremely aware of the ache in his own groin. He wants Allen to take off everything, and it feels like hours before Allen pulls his shirt up to his neck, revealing nipples that stand out from his skin. Airy sighs escape his mouth as he touches them.

“You want to be the one touching them, don’t you, Lavi?”

Lavi swears he is going to hyperventilate as he nods.

“Too bad you can’t.” Allen finally takes his shirt off. He sucks his fingers, one by one on each hand, and then spreads them over chest and drags them lazily over his skin.

“At least untie me,” Lavi pleads.

“Nope.” Allen pushes at his pants until they ride low on his hips. Lavi notes that they are really nice hips. He wants to press his lips to them and leave marks, but he can’t because of this damn thing around his hands—

…was that his scarf?

Yes, it was. Red fabric bunched around his hands. His poor scarf…

A moan draws his gaze away from his hands. Allen has unzipped his pants; white hair peeks out from the top of his underwear. He rolls his crotch against his hand repeatedly. Lavi doesn’t care if he’s seen Allen naked before. He wants to see him naked now.

Except Allen isn’t doing it. He does pull down those pants, but leaves them around his knees. His erection is more visible now, straining through thin underwear.

“Damn it, Allen,” he breathes out, and shifts his legs.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“Duh.” He eyes the finger that is tracing the bulge.

“How much?”

“Very uncomfortable.” Maybe if he says so, Allen will untie him sooner.

“Good.” Allen pushes down the back of boxers…and stops. Just there. Fabric covers the area that Lavi wants to see most.

Any thoughts of “soon” have just been shattered. Allen turns over and lies down to grind into his bed, muscles flexing. He makes the most sinful of sounds and sweat stands out on his flushed skin. Lavi bites down on the inside of his lip until he can taste blood.

“Allen, it’s not even fair. Just because I did that to you…you don't have to be mad about it.”

“I’m not mad.” And the Exorcist finally takes the last of his clothing off, fully revealing those hips and a leaking erection. “You just gave me an excuse to do this to you.”

Lavi lets out a shuddering sigh as Allen straddles his abdomen and shifts forward, cock rubbing his skin. “How about I suck you and all is forgiven?” he suggests. Anything to get Allen to touch him or untie him.

“It depends on how well you do it.”

“Fine.” He opens his mouth and allows Allen to slide his cock in. Despite being tied, he has a range of movement with his head and so he bobs it, hollowing his cheeks and scraping with his teeth. Tremors in Allen’s body let him know he’s doing a good job of it.

“Lavi…” Allen breathes his name out, the way no one else could.

And he moans in happiness as a hand finally strokes his disregarded erection. He thrusts into those fingers; Allen is using his left hand and the roughness of it is better than his own hand. He quickens his pace on Allen’s cock.

The other cries out as he throws his head back and Lavi swallows his come with only a slight grimace. Allen’s grip slackens for a second or two, but picks up quickly, rubbing from glans to testicles and scraping the tip with a fingernail. Lavi curls his toes as his climax is pumped out of him and he groans. Allen keeps his hand on him until he is fully spent, and then he unties him.

They end up lying in a tangle of limbs and sweat. They ought to clean up but Lavi is preoccupied with kissing Allen again.

“You’re crueller than me.” Lavi tells him as they move slightly apart to catch their breaths.

Allen shrugs. “Not really.”

“You should do that more.”

“What?”

“Stripping like that.”

“I should be getting paid for that.”

Lavi grins. “Oh, I’ll pay you. In different ways each time.”

Allen swats his ears. “But you have to make it good or else I won’t accept it.”

“Sure thing.”

When it comes to imagination, Lavi beats everyone. Even Allen.

Maybe it’s time he tied the Beansprout down, to show him what it's like.

Author’s Notes: Like I said, more a PWP. One day I will write a serious Laven that is darker.

Next fill is Road/Lenalee.

Chapter Text

Characters: Road/Lenalee

Warnings and Notes: Waxplay. Inappropriate use of ribbons.

Dubious consent and because of that, I want to say that I DO NOT condone this in real life. In real life, both parties must be consenting. In this case, it’s canon that Road does things without people’s consent. She stabbed Allen’s eye out and dressed up Lenalee and made her a doll. She took Lavi’s mind and messed with it. It’s Road’s personality and I have little say over it. I...wouldn't consider it rape, however. There are a lot of gray areas with what I wrote in this and I hope I have not offended anyone.

The last warning is a trigger warning for past self-harm. Again, I don’t condone self-harm. Technically, I would not even classify this story as smut, but rather a serious fic dealing with delicate topics.  

Also, I’m not sure if this fill is quite the way the requester wanted because I was trying my best to still keep their characterization true. Road/Lenalee is something I can never see as a "happy" pairing so I have tried to handle it to the best of my abilities. I hope it works.

Sing

“I’ve seen you naked before.”

That’s not what this is about. She still keeps her eyes shut.

“Once.”

Coolness is against her head, back, and nether regions. Her limbs are strapped down and her legs hang off whatever she is lying on.

“And I even gave you a dress. A very pretty dress. Did you not like it?”

Lenalee imagines her lips are glued together, stuck so that she cannot say a word. The less she says, the faster this ends, she hopes. Her Innocence is intact and her legs ache. They know a Noah is near. Her scars are telling her to activate. But she has to wait for a better opportunity.

She will endure the voice. She will endure Road. She will endure.

“Lenalee, I’ll stab you in the eye like I did Allen if you don’t look at me.”

She opens them and makes sure hate spills out. Hate to match the giggling girl—no, not girl at all—who is standing over her. The room is the same room she has been kept in maybe a year ago, dark with old furniture and pictures, stuffed animals and giant presents, and pointed candles floating everywhere.

“Good girl.” Road pats her cheek. “You’re quite beautiful and I’d hate to see you disfigured more than you are already.”

She keeps her eyes on Road’s nose, anywhere except those yellow, feline eyes that see too much.

“Those scars on your ankles—did that come from your Innocence?” Her toes uncomfortable twitch as a finger traces one of the cross-shaped markings.

“How much did it hurt when it slashed you? How much blood did you lose?”

None of your business, she wants to say.

“Innocence asks so much of you Exorcists. Isn’t it tiring? God, sitting there in heaven, looking down at his precious people dying left and right…”

But it isn’t about God. It’s about the people.

“And almost no one dies of old age. I wish I could tell you how many Exorcists I’ve killed, really. But I’ve lost count.” Road studies her fingernails. “I haven’t killed any recently.”

That’s because you lost to Lavi.

“You’re very quiet today, Lenalee. No tears to shed? No screams? Maybe I should’ve dragged someone else along.” She slips her hands behind her back as she speaks. “I’ve already played with Allen and Bookman Junior. Not with…oh, who was that beautiful boy called…Kenda? Kan? Kanda?”

Lenalee tightens her hands into fists and breathes out enmity with every exhale.

“You’re not fun at all on your own. I would do dress up, but this time you’re actually conscious and it wouldn’t work. Maybe I really ought to find someone else.” Road taps her chin. “But who?”

The seconds tick slowly by.

“Didn’t you have a brother?”

Her knuckles tighten. “No,” she says tersely.

“I’m sure you did. He’s important, isn’t he? Like the head of something.”

“You’re not touching them.”

“What makes you think I can’t? So many of our abilities are so violent. But mine—” A hand presses over her head and she has to force herself to hold still. “Mine is more powerful than that. I could read your mind. I can make you think thoughts you didn’t even know you had.”

“I don’t care what you do, so as long as it doesn’t involve other people.” She’s had enough of that.

“Oh!” Road steps away and spins. “So what you’re saying is, I’ll leave your friends alone, and in return, I get to have a little more fun with you.”

Your idea of fun is not my idea of fun. But aloud, she says “Yes.” Even though it makes her stomach turn.

“Won~der~ful~”

“So as long as you don’t kill me.”

“Oh, I won’t. Neither will I break your Innocence. Tyki already tried that with Allen and found it didn’t work. But,” The Noah licks her lip. “There are plenty of other things.”

Her stomach twists as a ribbon winds over her mouth. More ribbons tangle over her arms and legs, and she finds herself entirely immobile. Only the thought of the cold-yet-hot crystals of her Innocence pressed to her skin keeps her from panicking. She has been tied down before. She has been restrained and silence before, as well. And she has lived.

Cold fingers pinch her breasts. She bites down on the fabric in her mouth, stoically determined not to make sounds. But she can’t help the muscles that jump. Reflexes are reflexes.

Road seems to find this amusing and continues in the same teasing manner until her skin stings and is dotted with red marks. Uncomfortable twinges crawl toward her groin.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t hear Allen screaming when I took his eye out. He sounded like a girl. Although I’m sure you’ve heard him scream plenty of times.”

She knows them far too well. Allen puts himself in the most dangerous of situations and pays dearly for them. His sounds of pain are raw and human and strike her heart painfully. She hates the sound of it.

But she hates the sounds of her own cries, and bites down still harder.

Slap. Nerves sting and complain as a hand slaps the skin of her stomach. She holds her breath and tightens her muscles. She’s not sure what burns more; her embarrassment, her skin, or her Innocence. All three have the same thing in common: the color red. Red inside her body, red tinting her skin, red circling her feet. By the time Road steps back again, Lenalee is a field of red and heated skin..

It still doesn't hurt as bad as synchronization. White pain hurts more than red pain. Her pain levels she marks with colors, and right now it is simply red.

Her heart seems to stop when the Noah reaches for a candle. Is she going to be impaled, and if so where? But Road simply leverages it so that it hangs over her, and waits as the flame flickers.

It’s when it starts dripping that she has a vague idea of what will be happening—

And white pain blossoms over her skin and crowds into her vision. She strains against silky ribbons and bloodies her lips as she bites down on them. She cranes her head to see pink splatters of wax cooling on herself. Her chest heaves as she breathes raggedly.

Road laughs in her ear as more drops splash down and spread over her sore skin. Over and over again until she is sure her hands are bleeding too from how tight she has been digging her nails into her palms. Blood drips down her mouth and she swallows the taste. Her body is awash in pink and white and the more it dries, the stiffer she is and the pricklier it feels. After this, she decides, she is never using candles.

“I wonder what will happen if I let it fall in your pretty eyes. You won’t regenerate like Allen does. I’m sure of that.”

Fingers pull one of her eyes open, and she stares into the point of the candle inches away from her.

Her pulse pounds in her ears.

She holds her breath as she watches a drop slide slowly, slowly down…

And then she cries out because Road moves it away and it splashes over a nipple instead. Her heart slows its thunderous rate only slightly as Road’s shrill laughter fills her hearing.

“Be happy I like your eyes and you get to keep them, Lenalee.”

It is in her mind to retort, but the thought of people keeps her from saying anything. Not that she can with her mouth gagged like this.

Road now drags the point of candle down from her throat to the top of her groin. She flinches from it and counts her breathes to make it hurt less. It’s red pain and nothing she can’t handle. It does hurt a little more when that point is applied to her thighs and digs into soft skin. It circles dangerously close to her groin and oh God she does not want to think about the worst of possibilities…

But it sidesteps her there and instead digs into her hip and she feels skin breaking.

“You’re so silent.”

She stares up at the darkness over her head.

“I wonder what it would take for you to scream. I know seeing other people in pain will do it, but what about you?”

The ribbon against her mouth is peeled away. Lenalee wipes her mouth on the side of her shoulder. “I don’t scream for myself.” Not if she can help it. She has been done with that for a while.

“Let’s see…I’m sure you screamed when you first became an Exorcist. I could repeat those memories.” Fingernails scratch her forehead as they run through her hair. “I could bring those all up for you to relive. But it may or may not work on you anymore.”

No, she has kept them well-blocked out of her mind most of the time. Her future, not her past, is what keeps her going.

“You’ve thought of death. I could make you feel your death so many times until you want the actual death. No…actually,” Those damn fingers run over her arms. “I know just the thing.”

Her heart might’ve stopped for a millisecond, and Lenalee loses, briefly, her control. And by the grin on Road’s face, she glimpsed it.

One of the very few things she is ashamed about in her past.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl, Lenalee.” Heat floods in her face and ears and travels everywhere else. This is something that she never brings up, never speaks off, and few people know off.

The candle slashes a thin line in her wrist and it is blue pain, the worst pain, that she experiences. Blue pain is sheer cold that travels in her veins and into her heart and pierces it like glass. Blue is like a parasite that digs in and must be burned out. She trembles and closes her eyes. Another slash is another stab to her heart, and Road’s laughter hurts her head.

However, Lenalee does not expect the fingers that are pressed to her womanhood. Her Innocence now seems to truly burn, begging her to move. But she can’t, not when sharpness is digging into her skin. She still has to wait.

“Poor Lenalee~” Road sings as she cuts more and continues to fondle where she is not supposed to. “Poor, poor Exorcist. You’re too proud to call for anyone else to take your place.”

Her eyes are shut so tight they hurt. And she is letting out strained cries only because it helps her breath. The combination of blue pain and awkward arousal sets her nerves on edge and making sounds eases it slightly.

“Are you a virgin? Maybe you are. Maybe you’ve dreamed of even Allen doing this.” A finger dips into her and she finds herself whimpering. “And maybe you’re not a virgin, and I’m the second person to make you sing.”

Beneath closed eyelids, she can see colours exploding every time another old scar is reopened on her arms. She is damp and it feels near repulsive.

“If only they could see you like this. I wonder if it would turn them on. Would it make them want to come, seeing you at my mercy.” Road’s voice now sounds far away as blood loss is getting to her, as is the nearing of her inevitable climax. Her feet are stretching at the ribbons.

Pain, arousal, and anger. Lenalee stops biting her raw lips. She will begrudge every sound, but she has not cried yet. Not yet. Just a little longer.

Road’s fingers push her to the edge, with one last stroke and a slice to wrists. Half-dizzy, she moans and shudders, head lolling.

With her eyes closed, she looks the appearance of defeat.

“Are you naughty or nice, Lenalee? Maybe you’re both.” The candle clatters to the ground, and those fingers leave her.

Now.

She breathes and ribbons snap and wither at the green glow. Her eyes open, her head and heart pound, and her limbs shake, but she can move again. Blood has made everything slippery and she frees herself hands quickly as she aims a kick at Road. It misses, but it puts distance between them.

Lenalee hovers and looks down at Road. Her vision is not the clearest, but she knows from experience there are worse things than blood loss. She lets hate guide her Innocence and it seeps in her skin.

She does not need saviors at all times.

“You’re wrong about everything.” Her voice is soft, to keep the pain out of it, but it still has bite. “And you don’t understand a thing about me.”

“Awww…” Road laces her fingers together as she pouts. “You Exorcists take everything too seriously. I was actually nice this time. No missing limbs or eyes. And I made you come. Isn’t that nice?”

“It’s just a reaction.” Lenalee will let it bother her later. She will appear unaffected as long as she can.

“You’re not as fun as Allen.”

“Leave other people out of this.”

“What I told you that I think you’ll probably die alone, without other people?” A change of moods, just like that. “Helpless, desolate, and agonizingly slow?”

The light from her boots flare out. “It’s none of your business how I die.”

“How boring.”

“If I’m so boring, send me back.” Blood still drips from her wrists.

“Allen’s still my favorite, but you’re the most fascinating to play with.” And Road is giggly again, all smiles and fake sunshine. “I’ll find you another time.”

Lenalee waits. Enough is enough and she refuses to reply anymore.

“Bye-bye, Lenalee~”

The walls collapse around her, and the last thing she hears is laughter echoing in years before it all turns black.

___---|||:|||---___

She never tells anyone what happens. Not even as when the nurses ask her about the stranger burns and the cuts. Let them talk. She says nothing to her brother. Not even when he takes her hands and holds them. Although she does break down and cry then, out of exhaustion and pent-up feelings of pain.

She can’t tell, for fear of what they’d try to do. For fear they’d try to do reckless things in her name and oh no that’s not what she wants to happen. They’d end up dead, or worse.

Kanda says nothing when she appears in his room and they sleep back-to-back in the same room; he knows enough to say nothing. Lavi seems to understand too, when she sits down next to him and asks him for sleep advice. Allen is the only one that is puzzled, but even he does not question her when she kisses him on the cheek.

Her world is intact. One day it’d break, but not that day and not today.

For she will do anything, even in silence, to hold it together.

Author’s Notes: …excuse me while I go read some fluffy fanfic. This got so dark. Also I’m sorry if this is littered with spelling errors and I will iron them out tomorrow. I was viciously writing the whole day because this story refused to let me sleep until I was done with it.

Before I forget, the rest of the requests are:

Cross/Miranda

Kanda/Lenalee

Lavi/Lenalee

Road/Lavi

Marie/Miranda

(there is a lot of Lenalee and this is very satisfying because I like writing Lenalee.)

The next update might take a few days.

Chapter Text

Characters: Cross/Miranda

Warnings: Sex.

Author’s Note: I’ve never written this pairing or given it much thought. But I enjoyed writing this.

Courtesy

“I’m sorry!” is Miranda’s most commonly used phrase. It is an automatic response, like breathing. Even if it’s not truly her fault, she still says it.

She still keeps trying.

Her greatest fault is that she will always try. Fail one million times, and maybe after that, you’d succeed. Why? For it is the words she wishes to hear the most, the simple, humble “thank you.” She thought she’d never hear them, until Allen and Lenalee both said to her with smiles on their faces.

The Order gives her hope. She will never be fired, never be kicked out. Unless she loses her Innocence, she will always have this job. And the people? Almost infinitely patient. They helped her understand her Innocence, bandaged wound after wound, and pushed her synchro rates up and made a difference. They tell her “welcome home” when she returns. And they always thanked her.

Miranda knows from others that The Order wasn’t always like this. She knows that she could die at any time. But it is also done much for her, a useless person, whom the world has unwanted. Her family turned their backs. Her neighbors scorned her. Here? She had a place. She is an Exorcist.

For every apology she makes, there are more than enough people who say “thank you” to make up for her faults.

She is important.

She matters.

It makes her smile.

The only times it is hard is when she brings back a person and knows they will die when she deactivates. It hurts when they say thank you. It breaks her heart when they don’t hate her. They encourage her. They tell her to win.

Miranda assumes she is weak and delicate. She cannot “fight”. She is a supporting Exorcist who needs a shield. Is that weakness or delicacy? It takes strength to give time and back it back. It takes energy to activate. It takes strength to release an Innocence and watch a person’s injuries return, or watch them die.

Truly, she is underappreciated.

___---|||:|||---___

Cross is the polar opposite of Miranda. Confidence leaks from him. In his footprints, he leaves the mark of surety and calm. He says what it wants and lets people say what they want of him. They’re jealous, anyway.

But of what?

For starters, the fact he controls two Innocence types. His own, Judgment. And then Maria’s Grave. It’s forbidden and he said “fuck the system” and uses them both anyway.

Second, he’s a General. That means he’s over 100% in synchronization and he destroyed countless Akuma.

Third, he’s a lady’s man. All of them fall for him. Such a charmer.

There are few people who can compare to him. He’s amazing and he knows it. But he’s not God and he can’t do everything. He makes calls and sometimes they’re bluffs that don’t go through, and other times they do. He butts heads with Central over decisions. They disagree. He gets in trouble.

He is still better than Central. He believes that Exorcists are humans, not soldiers tossed onto a field, dying off one by one. Yet he still makes tough calls. Like possibly sacrificing one Miranda Lotto. He knows his idiot apprentice will probably make it in time, but there had been a chance he wouldn’t.

The Generals would’ve killed one of their own comrades.

A good comrade, too, who had excellent abilities.

Cross had hesitated. He really had. And he hides his relief when his apprentice shows up. He easily takes that insult of how repulsive he is. She’s alive, isn’t he? But she really did do a damn fine job with the Egg. Even on the verge of being drowned and shot. And when she’d woken up later, she’d protected people.

One good turn deserves another, after. And Cross does say his thank you’s. Quite whole-heartedly, too.

___---|||:|||---___

Miranda likes wearing pants. Before the Order, she was constantly in skirts and dresses that more often than not, tangled her legs and caused her to trip. No one ever thought to ask her if a change in wardrobe were needed. Her uniform had shocked her at first; she nearly fainted and called it scandalous, until she remembered that Lenalee Lee had a uniform than entirely showed off her legs, and so pants were less frightening than those short skirts.

Besides, there was a freedom to move. She tripped less. She fell less. She could take steps and not have to constantly look down.

Stairs are still the devil, however. Be it the old Headquarters or the new, there are so many stairs and steps that she always got lost and would panic, and trip.

Tonight is one of them. One late night mission, and she is stumbling back. She remembers to go up three flights of stairs, turn three corners… and then she finds herself lost.

She almost screams, if not for the lateness of the hour and the shame of being lost yet again. She wanders for a bit, trying to get her bearings, hoping someone is there…

And then it happens.

Stairs.

It’s like tripping on air, and then gravity takes over and you tumble. Sometimes you go head over heels, other times you roll, and still other times you hit your chin and then the rest of your body. Miranda Lotto has the talent to do all those, shrieking and closing her eyes as she thinks this is such a sad way to die—

And then someone catches her. A solid person who doesn’t even make a sound.

She keeps her hands over her face, quite sure that red is leaking from between her fingers, be it blush or blood. At least she has pants and no one gets a view up her skirt. But there’s only the quiet, amused laughter of her savior.

Miranda takes one look and does indeed faint.

Did it have to be him.

Why.

___---|||:|||---___

She’s a little calmer when she wakes up in her own bed. And, she supposes that it’s not everything one is helped by a General.

Cross Marian sits in a corner, smoking and looking quite comfortable and content.

“H-hello,” she offers, voice shaking as she sits up.

“Evening.” So very casually.

“…why are you here? You could have brought me back and left.”

“Because I was looking for you.”

“Oh…” Her head spins. Did she hit it on something? She must’ve. That would account for the fluttering in her stomach and her shaky nerves and—

“Are you all right?”

“I—yes! Yes, of course!” She squeaks, going pale.

Cross sighs a little, and pours something into a glass. She wonders if he carries a bottle of wine wherever he does. He hands her the glass. “Here.”

Miranda blinks.

He takes a sip and hands it to her. “It’s only wine.”

She takes two gulps of it. It’s been a while since she last had a drink. Sometimes it steadied her, while other times it depressed her or made her say strange things. She hopes it’s the former and not the latter.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Cross returns to his seat, still smoking.

Silence hangs in the ear, heavier than the smoke. She continues drinking until the glass is empty, whereupon she sets it down and asks him why he is here.

“Because I want to be. Do I need more of a reason than that?”

“I suppose not.” A slow blink, and then she smiles. Maybe she ought to keep a bottle of wine around…

“Did you forget your own birthday?”

The happy sparkles in her mind disappear as she looks at him.

She nearly shrieks again. “I’m sorry!” She shoves the covers off her bed and stands. “I’m sorry I—” And her world pitches.

He catches her again and puts her on her feet. She looks up at him, ready to break into tears.

“You don’t have to apologize for everything little thing.”

“I’m sorry, it’s…it’s habit.”

“So I heard.” He has not let go of her arms. “It’s a rather horrible habit.”

“I’m s—” Miranda catches herself. “I know.”

Years of saying it over and over, begging for forgiveness unless people were tired of giving it to her. Years of wishing for recognition. Years of wanting that “thank you” and just a smile instead of people screaming at her.

“I’m very much a self-deprecating person. I lost at least one hundred jobs, and the only thing I have accomplished is being an Exorcist. I am too nervous, too scared, and I can’t even fight for myself.” She laughs weakly, thinking out her last ventures. “I’m more a hindrance. Even while moving.” Oh, the humiliation of how she’d spilled a cat potion on Lenalee and Bookman, and then gotten bitten and bit Marie… “They should lock me up all the time until they need me for a mission…and keep a guard on me so that I don’t hurt anyone…”

“Stop there.” Cross puts out his cigarette, and with practiced ease, flicks it into the wastebin. “And here I thought being about my idiot apprentice would help improve your thoughts about yourself.”

“Allen?” She has smile. “He does so much and receives so little in return. He’s quite marvellous.”

“And still an idiot.”

“But—”

“You’re at least an honest idiot.”

“Is—is that a compliment, General?”

“Yes, it is.” She looks at him and see there is no sarcasm in his face.

“You were saying it’s my birthday?”

“Tomorrow, actually. In a few hours.”

“Oh.” She glances at the clock and notes that it is ten something. “But what does you being here have anything to do with my birthday?”

“Well, for starters, you can sit down so that you don’t fall over again.”

She sits, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

“Second, whatever happens in this room stays in this room.”

“Understood.”

“I’m serious. No one hears of this. I’m actually suppose to be locked in, but the guards are so incompetent it hardly matters.”

“…”

“Is that clear?”

“Ah—very! Very clear, Sir!” She nearly salutes, but she forgets which hand…

“Third thing—thank you.”

“Sir—” Her heart stops and she thought she would faint. But instead she swallows and tastes the rich wine flavor lingering in her throat, and knows she is still awake. She makes the strangest sound as her mouth drops open.

“I said thank you.” Cross ruffles his hair, shaking his head. “I guess they were not lying when they said being complimented might send you to a hospital.”

Cross Marian just said thank you.

Cross Marian.

Said.

Thank you.

Let that sink in. Or rather, let that thought squirm its ways in, trying to settle there and digging claws in until you have to accept it.

“B-b-but for what,” Miranda sputters. “What? How? When? Why? And are you sure you’re not mistaking me for something else? I don’t think I—”

He holds up a hand. “Sh.”

“…”

“For what you did with the Akuma Egg.”

“Oh. I don’t remember it well.” She nearly suffocated, and then woke up when there was an explosion and she had immediately activated Time Out. Then everything passed in a blur until Marie told her to stop, and then she passed out again. “I was only doing my duty.”

“So you were. And it’s my duty to say thank you. Which brings me to my last point.” He bows. “My apologies for choosing to sacrifice you for the sake of the Akuma Egg.”

“…I beg your…pardon?”

“Did no one tell you?” At her incredulous look, Cross sighs. “The Noah that tried to drown you. She put you directly on the Egg in hopes of deterring us from destroying it. We made the call to shoot anyways. I knew my idiot apprentice would make it in on time, but still…if he hadn’t been in time, I’m sure plenty more people would have wanted my head on a platter.”

His voice sounds so distant from her. It’s rare for anyone to say thank you, much less apologize to her.

“So as an apology, and because it is also a sort of thanks, and because it is your birthday, I’m offering to sleep with you.”

She has to lie down at that point. There is a silly smile pasted on her face. And then she begins to laugh. Not loudly, but enough that her shoulders shake and tears come.

There might be wine, but she has to be dreaming.

Why else would Cross be saying outrageous things to her? Like thank you or apologies, or sleeping.

“I’m sorry…” she wipes her face. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. All I need is answer of whether or not you accept.”

“What if I turn you down?”

“Then I’d bid you a good night.”

“And if…I accepted?” She decides to look at him.

The smirk on his face causes heat to creep into her face.

“Ooooh…let me think.” Miranda turns over and covers her face. She rocks back and forth. She tries to think. She bites her lip and says “yes” and “no” several times.

She has never imagined this, or even though about this. Not ever.

It’s insane that he is the one to come to her, asking if she would like it.

She trembles a little, and then decides to make her choice. She turns back and swallows her trepidation.

“Y-yes. I would like to. I’m…” she almost says sorry. “I’m ready.”

He holds a pleased expression on his face as he sits down next to her, the bed dipping under their combined weight. “I’ll make it a night you will not ever forget, Miranda Lotto.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, before he pushes her sleep up and kisses a trail up to her bicep.

It’s all quite fast, the way he kisses until his lips are against her, and anything she thinks she ought to say or not say are forgotten.

It’s a first kiss. Yes, at the age of twenty-seven. No one’s bothered to kiss her before this. Like any other person, she’s thought of it. Wondered. But it’s been only a dream until this night.

She squeezes her hands together in her lap as Cross holds her to him, still kiss. It’s like being in a dream, where you don’t have to control anything and it simply happens, and when you wake up, you needn’t worry about anything being different from normal.

It’s a nice dream, she decides, when he unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off. And then he takes her hands and kneads them in his, but just as he’s ready to slip her gloves off, the magic is broken.

“No, you can’t take them off…” she has scars there. Ugly, puncture wounds.

“Why?”

“I don’t like seeing them.”

“Marred hands don’t matter to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re just hands. Can you move them? Can you feel with them? Then they’re your hands and part of you.”

She hasn’t thought it of that way before. So when he moves to tug it off a finger, she nods and allows him too. Little by little, he pulls it off, and then it is gone. Her hands are bare and she nearly panics. She hates even sleeping without her gloves on. But Cross takes each finger and sucks on them, slowly, and then licks her scars until she is trembling all over.

“See, you’re beautiful when you’re not apologizing for every little thing.” Lips trace over the disfigured skin. “I like hands that have seen work.”

She ought to reply, but the words are stuck in her throat, so instead she numbly nods.

“May I?” He tugs at the hem of her turtleneck shirt.

“You may…” How many others has he disrobed, she wonders as he divests her of her top. No doubt, countless other women. They probably did better than her, too.

Her breasts fill his hands; he holds them and circles his thumbs over the nipples. She makes her first groans, the flush heightening in her cheeks. Never before have her breasts felt this sensitive. He touches her until she is crying out and shaking harder than ever, her body reacting.

“How do you…do that?”

“Listen to your body and what it tells you.” A little snap tells her he’s gotten rid of her bra, just like that. “And then you’ll know what you like.”

“What I like?” She tenses as she watches him trail his finger down her stomach, resting on the button that closed her pants.

He unclasps the button. “That’s what I tell everyone.” The zipper sounds loud to her ears. He draws her pants down and tosses them again. Only her underwear is left.

“But I think you’ll like this the most.” He places his fingers against her, and just, ever-so-slightly, moves.

A thrill runs through her.

She gasps and her head nearly hits the wooden headboard of her bed. “Ah!”

Cross caresses again…and again…and again. Each time, she arches her head and shoulders. Her hips seem to move on their own, nudging into those fingers that were bringing her inexplicable pleasure that she is feeling for the first time. She is reduced to tears and whimpers by the time he strips her of her underwear. “Please…” she’s not even sure what she’s asking for anymore.

He kisses the top of her head and smoothes at her flyaway curls. “In good time,” he whispers. He loosens his own clothing and steps out of it. Through a haze of pleasure, she can see his girth, and she blushes.

Miranda, like any other person, knows enough about sex to know what happens. She just wonders if that is actually going to fit into her. He seems to sense her anxiety.

“Don’t look down if you’re worried.” Cross slicks his palm with his tongue, then wraps it around his cock, pumping it a few times. “But I can promise that it won’t hurt.”

She gulps and concentrates on his face as he leans over her. And surprisingly, he is right. There is discomfort, and she is very tense as he slips first the tip in and slowly moves until he is fully inside of her, but very little pain. Then he moves and she is slowly pushed back into pleasure. She bucks against him just as much as he presses into to her. She does not protest when he pulls her up and she is in his lap, shifting up and down on his shaft.

This sensation of being filled is new and strange, but the warm and the shivers through her groin and spine compensate for the strangeness. Sounds spill from her lips, ranging from please to oh and aaah and more, please.

And then she reaches her climax, and he has to muffle her sounds as she comes with an intensity that leaves stars in her eyes, her heart pounding and her ears ringing. A rush of euphoric pleasure fills her as she moans into his hand, rocking into his lap. She is dimly aware of him coming as well a few seconds later.

“Gen…General,” she gasps out. “you—”

“Shh.”

She falls silent, her head against his shoulder. She is still naked and so is he. He is also still inside of her.

Out of habit, she nearly apologizes again, for not doing much for him. He really did most of the work. But she swallows that old phrase down.

“Did you like the apology?” she hears him ask.

“I did.” Her voice is still shaking from the experience. “I did, General. Thank you. Thank you.”

“And thank you. You were very good.” He brushes at her hair and tips her face up for one more kiss before he slides out.

“I was?”

Cross waves a hand. “All beautiful women are good in bed. That’s a fact.”

Miranda sometimes can’t tell if he’s serious or not. But she does know what he just did. Cross, while a womanizer, chooses the people he sleeps with. He certainly thought about this.

And he’d just called her beautiful.

She lies in bed and watches him dress. She’s a little sore, but mostly tired. And the alcohol buzzing in her is slowly wearing off. Thank the heavens for a good tolerance.

Before he leaves, he kisses her bare hand again. “Until some other time. It’d be your turn to seek me out if you would like it.”

Her laughter is breathy. “I will…think about it.”

The door closes, and the clock chimes midnight. She is now twenty-seven.

…another year older, and with maybe a little more confidence. It’s not every day someone can say they have slept with Cross Marian. Not that she’d tell anyone, but it meant she had merit.

It meant one of the Generals respected her.

And Miranda got one of the best night’s sleep she’d had for a long time.

Author’s Note: Next is Kanda/Lenalee.

Chapter Text

Characters: Kanda/Lenalee

Warnings: Sex

Author’s Note: Request was for Kanda/Lenalee following the Alma Arc.

By now, nearly all these stories follow a certain format. Intro in a character’s pov / Character A / Character B, and so forth.

Them

Everyone has certain points in their life when they recognize another person is necessary in their life. Then, that person is added into your relationships. Some of them take a little nudge. Others are easy.

Her brother is the first. Because her memories of her parents are so vague, her family is Komui and Komui only. It’s when she was taken did she first understand this truth. This truth meant years of darkness, despair, and tears. Of missing him. Of wishing for him to be there.

The next point was a sullen Exorcist who had an old, faded look in his eyes. Kanda, Yu Kanda. He was the one who took her hand and sat her down, and taught her to find a small space of peace somewhere inside to focus on. He spoke to her in her own language. He let her play with his hair and put her to bed. They trained, they took meals together, and he even let her hold his hand and drag him around from time to time.

There were other points, but this is one point, one person she keeps close. Years went by and Kanda remains unchanging and stubborn. Certainly he grew and so did she. Life got busy and they weren’t as close, but he still keeps in touch in small ways. Like stealing her hair ribbons. Enduring her failed attempts at meditating. Defending her.

Kanda would always be there.

Or maybe not.

For three months she was sick with worry. Kanda, Allen, Lavi—all gone. Allen’s goodbye was one of the farewells and he is going to be punched and kicked into next week if she can help it.

And then that…that idiot showed up. Kanda, smiling and asking “What, no ‘welcome home’ for me?” Then he had to say she was ugly from crying.

How awful.

But that’s not the worst. Kanda had the gall to drink his Innocence from her hand, while holding her other hand.

His lips had been very soft.

She punched him and took off with him before Komui had the chance to bring out all the robots.

Except she had a problem.

That problem is Kanda, in her mind. Looking at her with those eyes that have more life in them than ever before.

Damn him.

___---|||:|||---___

It’s been two days since Kanda has returned. Things have…mostly calmed down. Komui is not hunting Kanda down, and they were preparing for a funeral.

Yet Noise Marie looks nervous.

Lenalee, from all appearances, look quite calm. Except for the way she is spearing her food with her fork, but otherwise calm. A seemingly serene smile in place.

She is still mad at Kanda.

Quite mad.

“Lenalee?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m afraid if you stab any harder, you might break the plate.”

Oh. She releases her hold on the utensil and settles for digging her nails into the table instead. “I’m just…just a little upset.”

“That’s understandable.”

“First he insults me, and then he turns down my concern.” She holds her palms up to look at them, her voice breaking slightly as she begins to laugh. “But before that, he had the nerve to come back.”

She is not going to cry again.

Marie tilts his head at her, facial expression enigmatic. “That is what’s bothering you the most?”

“That idiot…he didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to still be an Exorcist.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Reasons he’s not telling me.” She slaps the palm of her hand against the table. “Well let me just say something. I’m tired of people running out without a word. Allen tells me he’s sorry and says goodbye and leaves. Kanda comes back and doesn’t say why. And Lavi is missing in action and here I am, supposedly waiting.”

She takes a breath. “I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of being kept in the dark.” Maybe they ought to send her on a mission now so that she can break some Akuma heads. Anything to vent.

A chair scrapes, and Lenalee looks up as Marie stands. “I don’t have the solution for everything, but I do know how to solve one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Come with me.” He holds out his hand. Puzzled, she stands up as well and follows him. Once they’re up a flight of stairs, she realizes where they’re going and she halts. “Marie—”

“You deserve answers and I think it’s time he gave you some of them. Besides,” he smiles at her. “You have things you want to say to him as well, don’t you? I can hear it.”

The protest dies on her lips. Is her blushing audible to him as well? Probably. She ends up unconsciously smoothing her hair down.

He knocks on the door. “Kanda.”

A muffled voice answers him.

“I know you’re not asleep or meditating. Do you want me to kick down the door?”

The door clicks and Kanda pokes his head out. “What?” He does not seem to see Lenalee yet.

Marie pushes her forward. “I think you owe her several apologies and explanations.” And just like that, he turns around ad walks away, leaving the two of them standing there.

“…”

“…”

“…may I come in?”

Kanda looks for a moment as if he’d like to say no, but he opens the door wider.

“Thank you.”

“Tch.”

She sits down on chair while he takes the bed. It’s very hard not to notice that he is shirtless and that his hair is down. Her eyes rest on the little cracks in his skin.

“Get on with it.”

“Me?” All admiration of his shirtless condition flies out the window. “Why don’t you first say sorry for being so awful to me?”

“…”

“Don’t look at me like that, Kanda. You know what I mean.”

“Fine. You’re not ugly. You just look ugly when you cry, like everyone else.”

“So do you.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t part of that group.”

“It sounded like you were. And moreover, that’s not the whole issue.” Lenalee folds her arms. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For the reason you came back. Why you needed your Innocence again.”

He deliberately looks away from her.

“You told me not to get angry. I still am and it’s useless to tell me that unless you give me a reason not to be.” She gets up and gestures. “I don’t understand why you would come back. I’ve told you before…you could’ve been free. The Order wasn’t even really looking for you. You—”

Time can stop. Argue all you want, but people will believe that time does stop, or at least slow down for them in certain moments.

In this case, it’s because Kanda has just stood up and kissed her. An actual kiss.

“You would be uglier if I hadn’t come back,” he says when he pulls away. “From all the crying.”

There is something squeezing her heart and throat and she concentrates her gaze on his tattoo.

“I also came back to properly say goodbye because you won’t be seeing me for a while.” She feels his hands take her. “Because I’m going after that idiot Beansprout.”

The black markings of his tattoo swims before her eyes. “You are?”

“Lenalee. I’m as much of an Exorcist as you are. Some things, you take. Others, you don’t and then you fight.”

“But the Order…they won’t like it if you just leave like that. You could be called a traitor as well.”

“After what they did, they can’t do all that much because they need me. How many Exorcists are there now? Eleven? Ten? Or less?”

“I just…” She lowers her head. “I’m sorry.”

Kanda is her oldest childhood friend. And she just might love him…a little too much.

“Believe in me that we’ll both come back. You’re good at that, right?” She feels his hand stroking her head.

So she tugs on that string that’s tightening around her and tugs it free. “Then you’ll let me do this.” She leans forward and kisses him, fingers tangling in his hair.

In the back of Lenalee’s mind, she wonders if this is the right thing to do. By now Alma Karma’s story is infamous, and she knows she’s not a replacement. She can’t be. This is not some staking of a claim. In fact, it’s a bit of a selfish want of hers. She wants him. And she needs him. Always, he’s been there, and the moment he isn’t, she had that sense of lacking that was so empty. And now that he’s back, only to leave soon, she can’t relinquish him.

And he is not resisting her. He is returning her kiss, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. He tastes like an old wish freshly fulfilled and continuing to be met. The softness of his lips makes her close her eyes and breathe deeply. For the little changes about him, he still smells the same to her. Soap and leather, with a hint of flowers (she’s never commented on the flowers. He’d be touchy about it), and some spice she can’t name.

The moment his hand slips to cup her bottom, she starts, reality snapping its fingers at her. “Kanda?”

“You’re thinking of stopping?” God, his eyes…

“…n-no.”

“Good.” He squeezes and then pulls her flush against him, Her ear bumps into his shoulder before he lifts her chin up for another kiss.

Slight warmth has turned into actual heat from both of their bodies. She lifts a foot up, and with less than steady hands unbuckles it and drops it. The other foot gets the same treatment. She has little idea where to place her hands after that…and settles for his shoulders and neck.

They are still kissing, and growing more fervent. Kissing is desires being coaxed, pushed, and needled at until it is too much. She ends up tearing at the collar of her uniform and scraping a finger in her haste to take it off.

Kanda makes a sound at her and ends up unbuttoning it for her. Embarrassed, she pulls the ties out of her hair and sets them on the nightstand. But she is entirely unprepared when he upsets her balance and she falls on the bed. Out of habit, she brushes her skirt down.

And Kanda’s eyes have not left her. They hold her there and linger, waiting. She sits up, so as to not feel as if he has an advantage over her.

“Have you ever done this?”

She shakes her head. It’d be stupid to ask if he has.

“Tch. Relax.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t ‘tch’ at me.” She hooks a finger in one of his belt loops and tugs. Pity Kanda saw it and it doesn’t pull him off-balance like she hoped it would.

His retaliation is unzipping her skirt. She nearly kicks him, but he is wise enough not to act smug about that. Instead, she catches his hands to look at the scars on his wrist. They look very much like hers. Cross-shaped, but darker. Hers had faded a little, but his were still fresh. And that is one thing she is counting on. Scars could be sensitive, after all. Lenalee brings his palm to her face and drags her tongue alongside his wrist, slowly. Kanda makes a sound, but doesn’t pull away. He curls his fingers even as she kisses a scar directly.

“Kanda,” she says softly.

And then he hooks his fingers around her neck and pushes her down. She splays her fingers over his shoulders while he pushes her shirt up. When he squeezes her breasts, her hands fall to her sides as she inhales unevenly. Her legs shift as a warmth makes itself known between her legs.

All of a sudden, he tugs her shirt away, along with her bra. Lenalee starts, but then he cups one breast and closes his mouth over a nipple. She curls her toes and tangles her hands into his hair, murmuring senseless words at him. Her body arches against him; another part of her is asking for attention.

She finally pushes him away so that she can unzip his pants and yank at them, while he does the same with her shorts and stockings.

His nakedness sets her heart pounding anew. Some part of her tells her it’s foolish to say he’s flawless, but he really is. She is hardly shy about her body, but right now, the way he looks at her makes even her ears feel hot.

“You’ve always been strong.”

“What?” Her mind snaps from the fuzz that had been setting in.

“I said—” He kisses her again. “You’ve always been strong. And you worry and cry too much for your own good.”

If she isn’t so breathless, she would laugh. Instead she slaps his shoulder and tells him to continue.

They rub, groin to groin. She breathes against his hair as dampness seeps between them. The air grows stifling and when they pull away from each other, Kanda’s face is just as flushed as hers, shoulders heaving.

He caresses her face, the expression on his face still hard to read. But she trusts him, knows him—he’s not using her as anything like a relief or distraction. The way he kisses her, tongue pressing against the inside of her mouth, and how his fingers slide against her core, are the actions of caring. He seems to note the jerky little motions of her body, how she gasps into his mouth, and how one finger dipping into of her nearly makes to come.

When he finally enters her, she grips his forearms and notes how his body trembles and how sweat clings to his skin. His pants for air match hers; they move together and she rubs his chest while his teeth leave marks on her shoulder.

“Kanda…” she wants to say his name over and over again. He’s not as vocal as she, but his strained groans, heavy against her ear, is enough to push her over the edge. She closes her eyes and whimpers something, legs curling against his back and her fingers digging into his neck, pressing him tightly to her. It’s a better thrill than how she feels when she flies, better than synchronizing with her Innocence.  

His thrusts cease as he reaches completion as well, grinding firmly into her and then stilling. He breathes into her hair, as if he doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his lips.

Lenalee squirms; it’s gotten a little hot and she needs fresh air. He pulls out of her, hand lingering on her face before he kisses her again.

Inexplicably, she wants to cry. “Kanda…” she begins.

“Hn?”

“I almost don’t want you to go. Not yet.”

“I’ll come back.”

“You promise.”

“Tch. I always do.” He ties his hair back loosely and then lies down next to her.

“And…this?”

He does not answer at first. Then, he turns his head. “We’ll work it out. In time.”

Well, it seems like both of them don’t really know where this is headed. Somehow, it’s a relief. Lenalee melds herself against his side, head tucked into the crook of his arm. He surprises her by slipping his arm down her back.

Kanda isn’t one for gestures like these. In fact, she didn’t even think he’d…like this sort of thing. But lying next to him, bodies touching and being able to feel his pulse, and watching him sleep, it’s almost familiar.

And the tight hold on her heart, the fear of being without her world, it eases a little.

She’ll regain it, piece by piece.

___---|||:|||---___

He wakes up and wonders at the weight against his arm, before he remembers what happened the night before. A glance to his side tells him it’s not a dream.

…though he slightly regrets the marks on her shoulder. She’ll have to wear her jacket for a while to head them from her brother…and other people.

Kanda brushes the back of his hand over her cheek, to test her level of consciousness. She doesn’t even move, not even when he eases his arm out from under her shoulder. He has to shake his arm to get rid of the pins and needles feeling, before he pulls a blanket over her and heads for the shower.

He slept with Lenalee Lee.

The Head Supervisor’s sister.

Lenalee Lee, whom nearly all the men had a crush on.

Water runs down his face and head as he picks up the soap. Had he intended to? Not quite. It…happened.

He knew Lenalee had some sort of feelings for him. Always knew. The sad, tearful little girl whom he’d failed to fully protect. And now she doesn’t even need protecting. She’s grown. She’s better than him. He doubts he’d fully satisfy her. But remembering how she had willingly let him kiss her, touch her…and then afterwards how she’d stayed—

The shower turns cold and he curses as he snaps the faucets shut, nearly breaking them in his haste.

A part of him wants to stay longer. He dries his hair and ignores the cracks in his skin. He’s got a time limit. He has to make it count. You spend too long trying to focus on one thing, and you lose sight of other things.

But the other part of him has to find that idiot Beansprout. He tells himself he wants to see Lenalee pummel him for leaving, and that he means to kill that damn Noah because it was his fault for getting the Moyashi into this mess. Thoughts like these persuade him to don on his uniform and pack up a few things.

Lenalee still sleeps. He doubts anyone will suspect a thing; Marie would never say a word.

Just before he leaves, he leans over to kiss her cheek and rest his hand on one bare shoulder. He ought to leave a note or something.

However, he doesn’t. He has no idea what to say.

And yet, it’s Lenalee. She’ll understand.

And he knows she’ll wait. That she’s willing to understand him, as long as it takes.

After he’s lost someone once, he has no intention of screwing up this second life anymore. To hell with the Order. It’s taken away so much from him, but just as much from Lenalee as well. And she, despite all hardships, has handled her hardships with better grace than she has. It’s what he admires about her, and why, he supposes, he’s drawn to her.

He closes the door behind him. In the early morning, it’s so quite that he can hear that click it makes. Every footfall he makes is a step away from her, and yet, a step towards her as well.

They’ll somehow be all right.

Author’s Note: Yes, I enjoyed writing that one. It's hard to decide what I like more, Kanda/Lenalee or Lavi/Lenalee.

And the next is Lavi/Lenalee and that one is halfway done so it should be updated either Feb 3 or Feb 4.

Chapter Text

Characters: Lavi/Lenalee

Warnings: Sex.

Author’s Note: Request was for semi-clothed sex and cuddling. I am guilty of extremely liking this request; especially after that last Lavi/Lenalee I wrote that was so dark. Please enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Cure

Accidents happen.

It’s normal for Exorcists to return with multiple injuries and illnesses. More often than not, they dislike staying down. In their eyes, lying in a bed takes away from their free time.

Kanda’s the best at escaping. And most of the time, the medical ward has to agree that he’s not “very injured”. Allen is the second best. Maybe his Innocence has something to do with it; he often excuses himself on account of being extremely hungry. Lavi simply will mysteriously disappear after a certain time, claiming Bookman duties. Bookman tends to back him up, so they have no choice but to release him.

Lenalee is the only one who doesn’t have as much of an excuse, and makes the least amount of fuss. More often than not, she’s embarrassed to stay to long, lest she impose. Despite the Head Nurse’s insistence she is ought to rest, she still tries to leave early, without success.

It didn't change much after Lavi and Lenalee are “together” secretly. Well, almost secretly; Allen and Kanda are aware and have already threatened Lavi many times to not hurt her, or else he’d be facing a future without his balls or something equally horrible.

But that’s digressing from the point.

The point is this: Exorcists hate inactivity. They hate lying in a bed, waiting for injuries to heal. And Lenalee is no different.

___---|||:|||---___

Lenalee has plenty of visitors, one after another. There’s plenty of flowers, plenty of cards…plenty of other things from her brother. Many people trooped by to talk to her, to see how she’s doing. She’s even allowed to sit up and eat. But really, it’s too much attention for a few cracked ribs and some stitched up wounds. Two days and she already wants to leave. She wants to be in her own room. As much as everyone shows kindness to her, hospital rooms aren’t her fondest memories. When the lights are dimmed and there are no longer people steadily coming in and out, she settles down to wait until the nurse on duty slackens her watch.

Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes into hours. She nods off, but then she pulls out her IV and it makes her less tired without medicines clouding her. At least they stopped monitoring her vitals and she won’t be setting off any loud machines if she moves. Her head snaps up painfully from the awkward position she has fallen asleep in; the clock says it’s around three in the morning. She turns down the covers, and means to step out—

When she hears footsteps and she just as rapidly pulls them over her head, body aching from her movements. The steps come closer and closer, but they’re…oddly soft. Like the sound of bare feet.

…

She has a hunch. But she waits until the footfalls stop next to her bed.

“I can tell you’re not sleeping, Lenalady.”

And her guess is right. She smiles and brings the covers down to peek at Lavi. “What gave me away?”

“Your breathing.” He sits down on her bed. “Bored?”

“Something like that…” Lenalee sits up as well, carefully. “Is there a term for restlessness from being cooped up?”

Lavi nods. “Mhm. Cabin fever.”

“…cabin fever?”

“The term came from the feelings of those being trapped in a cabin, during a storm or in attack. You feel restless, sometimes agitated…helpless…”

“I guess I’m all of those.” Lenalee sighs and tugs at her bangs. “Just before you came, I was getting ready to leave.”

“I think you could’ve made it. The nurse was sleeping.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Lena.”

She pinches his arm. “Why are you here? I thought you’d be asleep, too.”

He raises his right hand; the traces of ink are there, even after he washed it off. “Records.” He yawns, but not too loudly. They are both speaking in low tones. You never know who might be listening, even if their golems are turned off and tucked away. “Bookman kicked me out and he’s gone to bed only just now.”

“Do you ever catch a break?”

“Of course I do. Like visiting you. You’d be happy to know I have a cure for your cabin fever.”

“Does the cure mean helping me leave?”

“Not quite…the nurses would have my head.”

“Lavi!” She loudly whispers at him.

“I have something else in mind.”

“And that’s—?”

“This.” And he kisses her. Never mind that they are in a public room. Never mind that it’s the early hours of morning and they are both not fully awake. His kiss is that of a hungry, needy one.

She wraps her arms around him and pulls back, gasping. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Not here…someone might—”

“It’s almost four and everyone’s dead asleep. No one’s going to bother us.” Lavi kisses her cheek. “Besides, I’ll hear if anyone is coming and we can stop just like that. Your reflexes are probably better than mine.”

She wants to question his logic, but he has already curled a finger into the string that holds the hospital gown together.

“What if they find out we’re—”

“These things happen more often than you think in hospital beds.”

“Maybe to you. Not me.” Yet she is kissing him back, fingers dragging down the side of his face. She could always count on Lavi to cheer to up…and make her feel better, in more ways than one.

Even if his ideas are still terrible. This one is just as terrible as some of the others, but she allows him to tug at the bow, and the gown falls away. Underneath, she wears only bandages and underpants.

“Lavi—” Lenalee’s voice breaks as he makes a pleased sound and licks her throat. “You…knew about that, didn’t you.” About her state of dress.

“Been thinking about it for a while. How much easier it is. One slip, and it reveals everything.” His fingers press into her collarbone and begin to travel south. “You like it too. Admit it.”

Her answer to push away the blankets so that he has a better view. “At least take off your shirt.”

“Can’t~ What if someone comes? Leaving clothes around would give us away, wouldn’t it?”

As unfair as this is, he has a point. She makes a note of this for future revenge, and tugs his shirt up so that she can at least press her own hands to bare skin. “I hope your cure is a good as you claim it is.”

“I keep my promises. This cure is better than any other cure.”

That was horribly lame and she almost laughs, but then Lavi massages her breasts. She leans back into her pillows and sighs in contentment. His hands know her well; they coax little moans from her as he teases his fingertips against her areolas. When he lightly places a palm over her ribs, she holds her breath. He rubs her sides even as he straddles her legs.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much. But I don’t think you can…be on top of me, though.”

He taps her on the nose. “I’ll think of something, Lena. But there’s something else I have in mind.” He slides himself down and pulls her panties down with him as goes.

Lenalee starts and she almost knees him in the head. She glares at him, a contrast to the wide grin pasted on his face. “Warn me before you do things like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He licks a finger. “I’ll make it up to you now.” With gentle stroking motions, he begins touching her.

She parts her legs as much as the underwear wrapped around her knees would allow her to and places her hands on his head, fingers in his hair. No doubt, he remembers what she likes best—one finger on the sensitive area and the other slowly sliding into her. And then his tongue, caressing all of her and his teeth just barely skidding across her skin…

Just as she is shamelessly thrusting against him, she hears footsteps. He must hear them too. “Lavi!”

He continues to lick at her, pausing to only give her a wink.

“Lavi.” If she sits up, they’ll be able to see more undressed than dressed. But if she pushes Lavi away, it still hardly looks good. She seethes at him and pulls the blankets over them, yanks her gown so that it covers more of her, shoves a pillow over herself, and hopes it is enough of a covering.

And still Lavi is fondling her. She tries to take deep breaths and closes her eyes, forcing to body to appear relaxed.

“Lenalee?” A hand touches her shoulder, and it takes all her willpower not to bolt upright.

She opens her eyes, and then rubs at them. “Yes?” She even throws in a perfect yawn. "What time is it?"

“Four in the morning. I heard sounds. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” How is Lavi managing to do this soundlessly? She is teetering on the verge; her hands are tightly clenching fabric and cotton and she wants to move her legs and hips. “Just fine. Some dr-dreams.” Damn it, her voice cracks on that last word. She’d kick him, but her panties are tangles against her legs. Holding her there.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Just smile, nod, and smile some more. Brush at your messy hair. Keep calm…don’t think about…how good you’re feeling. “I can fall back asleep.”

“All right. Call me if you need anything.”

"Thank you." Lenalee swallows hard as the first wave hits her; Lavi’s tongue, while good for speaking, is also very good at this. “Good night,” she manages to call out before she lies still, eyes closed and jaw hurting from holding in the sounds. The heels click away, and she hears a door shut.

Only then does she pull the blankets back and grip Lavi’s hair and gives it a tug, make him push forcefully against her. She sets her teeth into the pillow and muffles her cries as she comes against those fingers and that damn mouth. And then she falls back, chest heaving as she comes down from her climax.

Lavi, flushed and dripping sweat, lies down next to her. She ignores him and smoothes at her damp hair.

“Lenalady.”

“You…idiot…” She slaps his arm. “We could have been caught.”

“But we weren’t. And you didn’t give us away. I knew you’d do fine.” Lavi runs a hand down the side of her face. “Even I was fooled by how normal you sounded.”

She punches him in the gut and listens to him choke for a few seconds before she slips her hand into his pants to touch him. He’s been holding himself in all this moment; her hands make him buck against her with eagerness.

“Now make it up to me, Lavi,” she whispers into his ear. She kicks off her underwear while her hands are busy unfastening his pants and pushing them down.

“I like it when you’re bossy.”

“Good, because you deserve it.” She rolls him onto his back, and with cautious moves, sits on him. She kisses him again, while his hands cup her face.

“You’re beautiful like this.”

…she is dishevelled, with messy hair and a gown falling off her shoulders. And this is beauty? Not that he’s any neater; his hair is in wild spikes and his eyepatch is skewed. “Only to match your handsomeness.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“At this point, I could say anything and you’d agree with me.”

He chuckles. “Maybe, maybe.”

Their hands clasp as she eases herself onto his erection, bit by bit, until she can feel his balls brushing against her skin. “Are you… all right?”

Lavi nods at her, his gaze a little fuzzy. “Fine. You can move. If you’d like.”

She does. Little rocking motions, back and forth and side to side as she angles herself so every move is more pleasure to her. As her pace picks up, the bed squeaks under them.

Lavi has begun to grind upwards into her. His hands are so tight around her, she fears they might break each other’s fingers. “If I could get a mirror, you could see how you look to me…”

“You’re a Bookman. You’re supposed to be good with…ah…words…”

“….can’t think.” Lavi half sits up and he nibbles on her lower lip, asking for a kiss. She gives it to him, while his hands leave her to clutch at her back. Her own arms curl around his neck. "Don't want to think. Except thinking about you and how good you look from above."

Their movements grow more erratic as they near completion. Heavy breathing, springs squeaking, and skin rubbing against skin are the only sounds. He finishes first and his fingernails accidentally scratch her, but it’s returned as she muffles herself by biting on his collarbone and leaving a hickey.

She decides she likes being on top of him; he tends not to thrust too deeply, probably for fear of hurting her, but in this position, with gravity helping, the pleasure was greater and she tells him this as she moves away to lie next to him.

“So you decide you like my cure?”

“I liked it from the beginning. It was surprising.”

“Then I’m forgiven?”

“…” She has to think. They were almost caught, after all. “I suppose.”

Lavi tucks her damp hair behind her ear, and fluffs up the pillows for her. “Good. I’ll come up with other things next time to keep you healthy.”

“Has anyone told you how silly you sound sometimes?”

“Many times. But they make you laugh.”

Lenalee plucks lint from his face. “I know.” Quietly. “Thank you.”

Lavi is curious. One moment he makes her laugh, and in the next moment, he could be cold and grim. Even more so when they’re on a mission. But she has no doubt he likes her. The way he’s fussing about her bandages and trying to find her underwear that's lost in the folds of the blankets, it speaks of his fondness for her. Even how he touches her hair and face and smiles at her in away he doesn't smile at anyone else.

“Want to spend the rest of the night in your room?”

“…you are going to give the nurse a heart attack. Weren't you the one to turn down my request to leave in the first place?”

“I know, but I changed my mind.”

She wants to leave, yes, but… “They’ll only take me back here.”

He lies back down with a disappointed sigh. “Then I’ll stay a while longer here with you.” He pulls up his pants and adjusts his clothing, while she does the same. Now that they’re moving less, the air has cooled and goosebumps were breaking out on their skin.

“And what if they see you?”

Blankets are tucked over them; he pulls her against him and plants a kiss on the top of her head as he makes himself comfortable in the bed. “They won’t. It’s only for a few more hours. I’ll wake up before then.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

He winks at her. “Trust me.”

As he drifts into sleep, Lenalee listens to the sound of his heartbeat against her ear, and his breath stirring her hair. Even in sleep, he keeps a firm hold on her. She runs her hands through his hair, pausing at the straps that hold the eyepatch. Like nearly everyone else, she wonders what is underneath it. A deformity? An injury? Something else? She could easily tug it away and slip it back. Her fingers itch.

But she doesn’t remove it.

It’s his secret and he trusts her to not ask, if he can sleep like this. And she trusts him to tell her when he’s ready.

Instead, she rubs her feet against his and settles more comfortably against his frame. This time, sleep comes more easily and she’s not fretting over staying in bed. Lavi’s just proved to her she doesn’t have to leave, because he’ll come to her…and make her night a better one.

…well, that’s something he’d say to her, and she falls asleep, with that thought in her mind and a smile on her face.

Author’s Note: Road/Lavi next…and sadly no more fluffy things…it’s Road.

Chapter Text

Characters: Road/Lavi

Warnings: Hatesex. Spoilers for newer DGM chapters.

Author’s Note: Request was for Road and Lavi, preferably in Road’s dream world, but if not, in Lavi’s mind. I couldn't make it work in Road’s world and so it takes place in his mind.

Play

Lavi does not like thinking about his time on the Ark. It’s been recorded and reported and he leaves it there while other things are more important to consider.

He especially does not think about it when his body is littered with parasites and his life hangs in balance in the hands of a seemingly less-than-sane Noah. He’s thinking more about what he’s going to do if he survives this. First he has to make sure he doesn’t die from injuries. Then, he has to make it back to the Order. And after that, he has to endure Lenalee’s wrath (honest to God, he didn’t mean it this time) and maybe the wrath of others.

“If” being the important word here. He hangs on, stubbornly. Bookman can appear as unrattled as he wants, but he knows that he might very well be his last apprentice if he isn’t careful.

He really has bad luck with Noah, doesn’t he?

…

Make that the worst luck ever when he gets slammed into the wall. That fucking hurt. That really did. And so he’s here now, clinging to life while blood dries on his skin and chokes his throat as he counts his breathes and heartbeats. He keeps his gaze fixed, painfully, on a lamp. He recites old passages through his mind. His mind is his pride and joy and even the Noah know that; they haven’t attempted to read his mind. Road, oddly enough, seemed to have never made mention of what she perceived in Lavi’s mind. She could’ve used the chance for information. But all she did was play with him.

It’s mockery.

And right now, his own intelligence mocks him because he can feel his body shutting down and he knows he will die.

This is such a sorry way to die.

A fucking awful, shit way to die.

___---|||:|||---___

Someone pokes him the face.

“Lavi~”

An eyelid flutters; he sees the blurred shape of a figure hovering, and the insistent nudge of fingernail. The rest of his body feels immobile.

“Wake up, wake up!”

He snaps to attention when his gaze focuses on short dark hair and striped stockings. Impulse leads him to leapt up, but he cannot.

“Good morning, Bookman Junior.”

“Get the hell out of my face,” he snarls, and then freezes. He can actually talk again? And why is he feeling no pain? No revolting feelings of something digging underneath his skin, no blood in his mouth. “Where am I?”

“Where do you think? It should be familiar enough, right?”

“…why are you in my mind again?”

“Because this is only way I can talk to you, stupid.” Road finally stops touching his face. She rolls her eyes at him. “I lost my body. Daddy’s reaaaaally mad.”

He almost rolls his. “No shit.”

“Poor you. You should thank me.”

“For what?”

“For keeping you alive.”

“…how are you—”

“It’s best not to ask.”

“I’ll ask whatever the fuck I want to.” He struggles; he’s sick of sitting and sick of being trapped. But the ropes around him are tight. “Why are you keeping me alive?”

“If you’re dead, it hardly will make Bookman tell us his secrets.” She waves a hand and the room is a little brighter; he recognizes it as a room he had stayed in. She’s digging around his mind again. “Besides, I want to play with you again.”

“I don’t want to play. I already know how to defeat you.”

“If you think I play the same game twice, you’re wrong. That’s too boring.”

Lavi snorts. “So what now? You’re simply gonna come up with a different way to torture me?”

“It’s not torture. It’s curiosity. Nobody beats me. Allen didn’t beat me. I just backed off. You’re the only one who’s pretty much beat me and I respect that.”

God damn it; he hates Road sometimes with how difficult it is to understand her.

“But like all opponents, I’m not satisfied. I want to see if you can beat me again.”

“What if I don’t want to. I can force you out of my mind.”

“You’d die.”

“So be it.”

“If you win, I’ll let you live and have Fiddler remove his parasites…and let the two of you go free.”

Lavi nearly laughs. “Says who?”

“Says me, the Noah of Dreams.” She smiles at him and lifts a shoulder. “Daddy listens to whatever I have to say.”

“And the Earl?”

“He doesn’t really care. He’s concerning himself over the Fourteenth. Daddy’s in charge of you and once he sees I’m not dead, he’ll let you go.”

“So, if I let you drag your fingernails through my mind again, fuck it up, and attempt to turn me into a psychotic mess, and if I win, you’ll do all that you promised?”

“A deal is a deal, and a win’s a win.”

He has to be insane to consider this. But Road did keep her promise before. “One more question.”

“Just one. I’m getting impatient.”

“Why would you offer me this?”

“Idiot, I already told you. Because I’m bored and this would be fun and I know you Exorcists will die fighting to the last breath. And if you die in your attempt, I can enjoy seeing the looks on the faces of your friends.”

Right. “I’ll play. Now let me go.”

“Mnh-mnh.” Road curls a sharp nail under his chin. “You’ll be kept like this. It’s part of the game.”

Ugh.

“And it’s really not all that hard.” Her finger drags down to where his scarf is and she slowly removes it. “All you have to do is make sure you don’t climax before I do.”

The look on his face must be ludicrous, for she laughs loudly and shrilly as she sits on his lap. “Surprised.”

“And if I don’t want to do this?”

“Too late~ No backing out.”

Fuck. He seethes in his mind and his hands strain at his bindings. But he is going to win this. He has to. He hopes his mind and resolve will not fail him, even as Road somehow undoes his clothing without loosening his bindings. He turns his head as teeth leave marks on his skin, and the rope cuts as he strains and shifts.

“You’re wriggling too much, Junior.”

“Fuck you.”

“So now you want to fuck me?”

“If it helps me win, yes.”

“I’ll consider it. Right now, you’re talking too much.” And before he can blink, she has gagged him even as he makes angry sounds at her that make no sense. “Shh. Let me get to the good part.”

His head thunks against the chair as teeth, or fingernails, pinch his nipples and tug at them. It not only hurts, but it sends pulses down to his groin and he realizes his body seems to like this. Road hardly helps matters when she presses against him; through the thin fabric of her clothes, he can feel her breasts rubbing against his chafed skin. Minutes of this and his cock is stiff, sliding against his abdomen with each movement.

“You’re tied up like a present. A present to me.” She pulls his eyepatch and lets it snap back, giggling at his wince. “I didn’t ask for a rabbit, but here he is!”

It’d be easier without her voice. Her voice is one of the more disturbing things about her and he wishes she’d shut up. He’d shut his eye, but he has to know what she is doing. Her hands are everywhere, tracing him and marking him until he is sensitive to every touch and he is moaning.

And she hasn’t even touched his erection yet. It drips and twitches; if he squirms a certain way, the rope keeping him to this damn chair manages to just rub it, leaving him highly frustrated.

But he has to win this. It’s not even him dying or losing his mind. It’s just a stupid game of holding out. And he can do that…right?

It’s truly quite hard when the other person is leaning right up against your cock and scraping their nails all over your balls, digging into the soft flesh. Lavi knows he is blushing, sweating, and making sounds as she handles him. All the while, he thinks of other things. He recites. He chants. He even thinks of cold fucking showers—anything.

She makes it worse by doing down on him, taking nearly all of him into her mouth and sucking. Teeth pinch the tip and he shudders helplessly, trying not to let it affect him so much. Her tongue is hot and probing, forcing sounds out of him as it swirls over his glans and traces his testicles. When Road sits on his erection and he is enveloped by her, it takes all his willpower not to come then and there. His hair is sticking to his face and in his mouth; he sucks air and out and is an absolute mess as he strains, shoulders trembling and knuckles white.

She moves herself up and down on him, her gaze far too amused. “You’re close, aren’t you, La-vi~” She purrs his name and ends it with a lilt. “I can feel how wet you are.”

And he can feel how wet she is, as well. She licks the side of his mouth as she slides, pace increasing. Finding some sort of willpower from somewhere, he pleads and begs, whether it’s too himself or any deity listening, that he can outlast her.

Lavi teeters on the edge, groin tightening. He shuts his eyes and bits down on the gag that she is made.

Just a little more…a little more.

And then Road tightens around him and he can take it no more. He makes a choked groan, half-whimper as he releases and pleasure ripples through him. He sees stars for a few seconds before the sickening question arises.

Who won?

Road tugs his gag down, her head tilting. She is still on top of him, and he is still inside of her. His throat closes and he is ready to resign himself.

“Congratulations.” She pats his cheek. “I lost. Again.”

Stunned, he has nothing as the ropes fall away. She pulls away from him; fluid trickles down her leg and he snaps his gaze back up to her face.

She doesn’t seem disappointed; rather, she looks amused. “Lady Luck loves you, does it not?” She spins on her heel, and as she does, her appearance morphs and she looks more doll-like than human.

“We’ll play again some other day. Third time’s a charm and maybe I’ll win then.” Her voice is now muffled. “But for now, you’re free to go. You’re also luck that I like you almost as much as I like Al-len~”

Lavi rises; he is about to say something, ask something, maybe even throw an insult, but he can’t seem to. The world narrows and spins, and he falls backwards…

___---|||:|||---___

It’s just one more thing added to the list of “Things that Lavi Does Not Like to Think About.” He likes both females and males, with perhaps an emphasis on females, but fucking Road Camelot wasn't, isn’t, and won’t ever be on his list again. Maybe she really does like him, maybe she doesn’t. But she likes playing with him a little too much for his taste.

The important thing is that he’s alive and back in the Order (and yes, Lenalee welcomed him back with a punch).

Author’s Note: After some technical setback, I have returned. I admit this is not one of my strongest fics because I’m still feeling my way with hateships. Just a Marie/Miranda left and requests will be open again.

Chapter Text

Characters: Marie/Miranda

Warnings: Semi-public sex with sensory deprivation.

Author’s Note: Request was for the sensory deprivation. Nothing much to say, except that I’m sorry it took me a while to update because of life getting in the way, as well as a migraine that’s been plaguing me for a past few days but I was determined to get this out before I caved in and slept. This is not my best writing and I’m also regretful about that, because this is a really sweet pairing.

And I finished it on Valentine’s Day, coincidentally. If you’ve got a Valentines today, great. If you don’t, that’s okay. Enjoy being single while you can.

Senses

Miranda is by far the worst at walking. It’s not that people don’t like her, but they can’t trust her to carry a plate or boxes lest she trip and injure herself or drop something dangers.

And Noise Marie is by far one of the quietest on his feet. Despite his height and his bearing, he is graceful, just as his Innocence is.

Such contrast. And yet nearly everyone agrees, without saying it out loud, that they were made for each other. They don’t say it out loud because who wants to be known as the Order’s gossiper?

Besides, Marie probably already knows what they’re thinking. He can hear heartbeats and tell if they’re lying. One does not go against that sort of skill.

But they certainly did try to make it happen. Matchmaking rarely goes well; everyone has a thing for Lenalee but she’s got a crazy brother. They might as well try with Marie and Miranda. It just seemed right.

___---|||:|||---___

“This isn’t a dare, is it?”

“No, no, of course not!” Allen pats Marie on the back, still all smiles. Howard Link stands almost discreetly in a corner. Lavi is on the other side of Marie, also smiling. “Tell him, Lavi.”

Lavi breaks a cookie in half, speaking in between bites. “We just think that you ought to go for it because Miranda could use someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“The two of you worked very well. I noticed that when Headquarters was being attacked.” Allen steals one of Lavi’s cookies.

“Seems to me that’s assuming a little too much.”

“Are you saying that you and Miranda are the only ones who haven’t picked up on it?” Lavi gapes at him. “Seriously?”

“…maybe I have.” He has good ears. “But is it true that people are betting on me.”

“…” Ha. He can hear the hesitation. “How high?”

“Lenalee bet the most.”

“And who doesn’t believe?”

“…her brother. If he loses, he has to destroy his robots and do his paperwork for a whole week without complaining.”

“And of course the stakes must always be that high,” Marie comments, finished his food.

Allen scarfs down more cookies. “I refuse to believe you haven’t at least thought out it.”

“Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t.”

“If it make you feel better, I didn’t bet.” Lavi’s smile is loud and cheery. “Allen did, but then Allen never loses.”

“You didn’t have to tell him that!”

“Course I did~”

“You—”

“I’ll take my leave.” Marie picks up his tray and begins dodging them.

“Marie! At least give it try!” Allen calls out to him while struggling with Lavi. “It would make her happy.”

He pretends to not notice them as he walks out, but the seed has been planted.

___---|||:|||---___

Maybe some deity was at work here.

They’re on a mission together in Venice.

And so far, Miranda has fallen out of a boat, nearly forgot her password again, and lost half her luggage. Marie has ended up lending his coat, and the two of them are sitting as still as possible.

“A-are you sure you don’t want your coat back? It’s gotten a little chilly.”

“Don't worry. I’m not cold.” It’s not cold for him, and her clothes are probably still wet. The Finders are giving him knowing looks (he doesn’t even have to see to notice them) and he is humming to himself in order drown out some of the distracting noises.

Somehow, they reach their hotel in one piece, with Marie more or less lifting her off the boat. Usually they wouldn’t even need to stay, but this mission required it. Staking out and searching for Innocence in some of the older buildings that would probably take a few days. They wanted Marie for his hearing, and Miranda for her ability to restore time and maybe figure out some of the fallen ruins.

Poor Miranda looks quite dejected; Marie has been thinking over it for a while, but he finally says it. “Miranda.”

“Ah…yes?”

“We have some time tonight. Would you like to see some of the shops?”

“But aren’t we busy?”

“We have the whole week. I doubt it will take that long, and I’m sure you’ve never seen Venice before.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, years ago” Before he met Kanda, before, when he still had his sight. “It was very enjoyable and I think you would like it too.”

“I’ll go, then!” She stands, and then stop. “…once I change.”

“I can wait.”

It doesn’t take her long; they set out. He listens and then guides them to the busier streets; here there were vendors of all sorts. HE thought about buying something to feed the pigeons with at the Piazza San Marco, but decides against it because the huge amount of birds flocking might make her nervous. So instead they shop. She says she has forgotten money, but he has his. He buys her a glass necklace, as well as masks for the both of them. Food is also purchased, and he is glad to hear her laughing. She trips occasionally, but he keeps an arm around her and it is nothing too bad.

…maybe there was something, for them. The happiness in her form, her heartbeat steady and not unsure, and how he feels around her…

This is nothing about dares or bets. He truly does care about her.

Night is edging in by the time he remembers the time. She is eating a pear when he asks her if she is tired.

“No, not very.” Fruit crunches in her mouth.

“I know how to end the day.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.” Hand in hand, they walk. He finds the area where one could rent a boat on an hourly basis and uses his sparse Italian to attain one for them.

Miranda is slightly nervous; her last boat ride had been a soaked one, and Venice waters were hardly pure.

“I’m afraid I’ll fall again.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t.” He keeps his hand on her and they sit down in the boat. “Is that all right?”

“Yes, it is.” She curls her fingers against his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands some money to the man. “Two hours, please.”

“Enjoy your ride, sir.”

Marie rows easily and smoothly. Miranda sits a little stiffly, hands gripping the sides. To take her mind off it, he keeps up a steady stream of conversation, and before long, she’s smiling again.

“Are we going anywhere?”

“You’ll see.” His memory is one of best, and he has a location in mind. He turns at an alleyway which he knows while lead into a quiet, mostly empty area.

When she gasps, he smiles. “I though you would like it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I hope it is.” He hasn’t seen this sunset for so long.

“Shall I describe the sun to you?”

“If you want to.”

“Ah.” Miranda clears her throat. “The sun is red and the clouds are this…this beautiful shade of purple and blue. I can also see orange and yellow and yet it reminds me of cotton candy. They’re fluffy. And…the water. It has the sun’s glow and the ripples add to the effect. It’s so beautiful. I’m sorry if I’m not any good at this…”

“No, it’s wonderful.” He touches her arm. “I can picture it.” It’s what he remembers, how it ought to be.

“I wish…you could see it.”

“But I’ve already seen it.”

“And now?”

“I’m okay with it.” He does not really miss his sight; his hearing makes up for it, and he has little troubling fighting Akuma. He sees with sound and he is surefooted.

“But I’d be afraid of never having my sight.” She shivers. “And I would trip even more than I always do.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” An idea has formed in his mind. “I could…show you what it is like. Being blind, that is.”

“Really?”

“You don’t have do if you don’t want to.”

“I…I think I would like to. Even though you’re blind, you seem to see so much more than I do, a-and I want to know how.”

Her blush is practically audible. He reaches out to trace her cheek, and listens to her pulse increase. “Only if you are sure.”

“I am.”

His own heart beating faster, he tells her to take off her coat and then he ties it over her eyes. “Only concentrate on what you hear.”

She nods, frame shaking a little.

“Tell me what you hear.” He holds her hands.

“I…I hear the water. It’s not very loud, but it’s rocking this boat. There’s some birds, too.” Miranda tilts her head. “I might be hearing some voices. The wind is blowing over us and I can hear something moving in it. Our clothes, I think.”

“Good.” He strokes his thumb over her hand repeatedly. “What else?”

“My heartbeat. My breathing. My own voice.” She bits her lip. “I can hear you breathing as well.”

Marie guides his hands up to her shoulders.

“That was the sound of your hands…”

“…there is also touch. You can tell me what you’re feeling as well.”

She nods; unbeknownst to her, she has stopped shaking. “Your hands are warm. They’re on my shoulders…no, on my waist now. You’re holding me?”

“I am holding you.”

A breathy laugh. “You’re smiling, aren’t you.”

He returns the laugh. “Yes, I am.”

“Is this something like what you do?”

“You’re getting there.” His hearing is enhanced, too, by his Innocence. She is not doing a bad job.

She continues. “You’re stroking my side…and…oh, one of your hands is on my leg. A-and the other…”

“And the other?”

“Its…oh, I can’t say it!” She inhales noisily. “I—”

“I can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, don’t.” A shake of her head. “No. This is…this is new. You can go on.”

“Then you have to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Do I?”

“It’ll make you more aware.” Not really; he’s just giving into his desires and he…curious as to how far she’ll go with him.

“Oh.” She swallows and continues. “Your hand—it’s on my breast.” Her teeth stutter over the last part. “You’re rubbing it…and now the other. Your hand on my thigh is squeezing and—” A quick exhale. “You’re squeezing my breasts as well.”

“Does it feel all right?”

“It feels…It feels nice.” Her hands reach for his arms. “It feels very nice.” She is leaning towards him.

His pants have become a little tight. “And this?” He suddenly pulls her against his body.

“Ah—” She doesn’t move at first. “I can feel you against me. You’re warm and you’re not like the boat. You’re alive. You’re very solid.”

This is too slow. While he is patient, he wants a little more. So he inches his hand to her pants. Here she hesitates again until he asks; she undoes her own belt and unzips it. Just as he is about to slip his hand in, she stops him.

“A-aren’t we still outside?”

“We are.”

“Someone could see us!”

“No, listen.” He runs a hand through her hair. “Hear anything?”

A pause.

“Only the wind and water.”

“There is no one.” The people are very far away. “We’re not doing to entirely undress, if that help.”

She nods against his shoulder, and then she gasps when he cups her through a thin layer of underwear. In a shaky voice, she narrates.

“I’m feeling…strange. But it’s a good sort of strange. Y-your finger is…ah, in the right place. It’s going around and around and I…it’s nice. I’m…oh, I d-don’t know anymore.” Her fingers tighten on his shoulders.

“Have you ever done this yourself?”

“N-no.” She moans and then puts her hand over his mouth. “I haven’t. But is it supposed to feel this way?”

“Yes.” He dips his fingers slightly into her. He wants to loosen his pants to find relief for himself. “And it will only get better.”

“B-better.” Her heart rate elevates. “Better’s good.”

“Its very good.” And then he stops.

“…N-Noise Marie?”

“One moment.” Unzipping himself when he’s shaking isn’t a good idea. But it’s been a while since he has been with anyone, and the anticipation of waiting has driven him long enough. He wants her.

He aligns their bodies and pillows her head with her hand. His other hand pushes her pants down.

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to,” he whispers. “Miranda, are you all right with this?”

“Yes.” And then to his surprise, she seeks out his face with her fingers, and then she kisses him. Some sort of emotion rises in him, and he kisses back forcefully. Their tongue touch and it is like they’re sharing a bit of each other, with these kisses. There is a lot of regret that he can taste from her, many broken dreams and let downs, but as bitter as it is, he can also taste the hope, the want, and still more dreams.

Still, he has to ask. “Do you trust me?” There is still time for him to pull away, for them to pretend this never happened.

“I’ve always trusted you.”

Such words reassure him. When he enters her, she does not tremble, but rather seems to welcome him. The boat shifts, but she has forgotten her anxiety as she whispers his name.

He draws in his breath, one hand braced against rough wood. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” When he shifts, she arches her head back. “A-ah.”

Marie forces himself to go slow, for her sake. By now it’s dark and there even less chance of anything seeing them. They move together and he marvels at the softness of her lips and how fragile her frame is.

For one moment, when she melts against him and gasps, her heart rate accelerating, he wishes he could see her face. He has already seen it with his fingers and hearing, but he wants to see her face and the color of her eyes, one look. She must be beautiful, more beautiful than he could ever imagine.

“Miranda,” he exhales, fingers trapped in her hair and her name stuck on his tongue.

They kiss again; their breathes mixed together as their chests heave and limbs turn leaden. She doesn’t let go of his hand, and neither does he. Together, they lay side by side on the boat.

Miranda first breaks the silence. “It’s more vivid than I thought, being unable to see.” She pulls off her coat. “So many things I could hear and feel better without sight.”

He strokes the side of her face with a finger, letting her speak.

“I think…you’re amazing, Noise Marie. I’m sorry if…if I didn’t do a thing.” She fidgets. “B-but, thank you.”

“No, thank you.” He kisses her cheek. “Thank you for trusting me. And you don’t need to say sorry. You were wonderful.”

Her laughter might just be the most beautiful sound tonight, like music to his ears.

When they return, the man they rented the boat from is mad at first, but Marie pays him generously for the extra time. He ends up carrying her in her arms. One of the Finders give them a knowing look, and he knows  he’ll probably be peppered with questions when they go back to the Order.

It was still worth it, the chance to be with her.

Author’s Note: I apologize for any inaccuracies regarding Venice. It’s been more than ten years since I toured Italy.

Requests are now OPEN; refer to the first chapter/story for my guidelines. One request per person and ONLY one. There is a maximum of seven requests.

One more thing for this round: please don’t request any Cross pairings. I need a break from Cross, sorry. Next time Cross will be allowed. Everything else is acceptable so as long as fits the guidelines.

Chapter Text

Characters: Tyki/Lenalee

Warnings: Sex, dubious consent. This is NOT a Tyki-rapes-Lenalee story. By dubious consent I mean that one member is willing, but only just barely willing given extenuating circumstances. I am not interested in writing a weak Lenalee; she’s been so badly portrayed in too many fanfictions, doujinshi, and fanarts, reviled against on tumblr and other sites, and all that I am trying attempt in my writings is do her justice by giving her a bigger part in canon. I understand I am deviating a little from canon, but still I hope that her character remains what it is—a girl who’s seen too much in a life and devotes the rest of it to protecting her world.

Author’s Note: The request was for Tyki using his ability of touching whatever he wishes to Lenalee’s advantage. This story stretches the timeline; it happens after the Thief-G/Timothy Arc and before the Alma-Kanda Arc.

POV switch is: Lenalee – Tyki – Lenalee

Deal

There are those who make deals with the Enemy. They’re known as brokers. They’re looked down upon. The Black Order despises them and hunts them down, though not quite as viciously as they do Akuma. If you make a deal with them, your soul cannot be saved.

And what if an Exorcist makes a deal with a Noah?

What if that Exorcist is Lenalee Lee?

What if that Noah is Tyki Mikk?

Yes, she made a deal with him. It’s a little after Headquarter moved. For a while, things were…uneventful. They went on missions, they came back. Allen and Kanda ran into some difficulties at an orphanage, but they returned.

But Lenalee has the premonition to understand the easy days were over. There are lives at stake, things as risk, and the fiber of what she loves is threatened to be torn asunder. She can’t simply think about only killing Akuma and fighting Noah. The Black Order is a cesspool, with its experiments and the like. They have done unspeakable things.

Is it so terrible that she makes a promise with a Noah, with her world in mind?

She doesn’t think so.

Their contract is simple: for as many times as she sleeps with him, he’ll step away from the battle and keep from killing Exorcists and breaking their Innocence.

Lenalee? Capable of such ideas? Why yes. She knows he is the Noah of Pleasure. She knows about his powers. And there was another rule in their deal: while they are ultimately sleeping together, she controls what he does with her and her body. A list of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ follows. She has thought this out and it is her world that she keeps in mind.

Short of dying for it, she’ll do anything.

Even sealing this pact with a kiss as purple butterflies land on her.

He even gives her a nickname: Starlet. She’s stealing the show, after all. Secretly, quietly, and slowly, by sleeping with the enemy. She’s the heroine.

___---|||:|||---___

“You look more tired than usual.” Tyki strokes her arm lightly, once, with the back of his gloved hand.

“No thanks your family.”

He raises an eyebrow. “There are limits as to what you can do.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Lenalee sits ramrod stiff on her chair, head high and hands in her lap. It always began like this. She or he enters the designated room, they attempt a conversation (they always did, for some reason), and then they lay together. She ought to be some highborn lady; his own roots weren’t nobility, but being a Noah made him one. She is beautiful, stubborn, and dangerous. She is unashamed of her tears and her love, both for the Order.

And him? Tyki is capable of respecting that. One can’t help but respect the lengths she’d go to do this. Tyki acts mostly on whatever his Earl tells him to, sometimes with some actions of his own. Sometimes Road makes him do things. Other times, it’s to fuck around with people. Allen Walker is definitely one he makes exceptions for because it’s fun. And Lenalee? She wanted this, and he got some fun out of it, too. So why not? It’s not hard to pretend he wasn’t doing his obligations to the family. It’s not as if the Akuma report on him.

So he’ll see how far this girl wants to go, because it amuses him..

“Starlet.” Her hair is loose, longer than that first time they’d met. He rubs it between his fingertips. “Shall we begin?”

She exhales audible. “Yes.” Flatly. Emotions waltz in and out her face until she casts a curtain over them.

He wonders how she’ll take it if he binds her and does it rough. Blindfolds her, maybe. Many innumerable things that he only thinks and does not say out loud.

He doesn’t want to fight her because it’s not worth. When they first met, she was no match. She was scrawny, pale, and fumbling. Not anymore; he can hear the hum of her Innocence and a part of him is whispering to either leave or break it. Rumor has it that she almost singlehandedly took down a Level 4. Fat chance that he wants to waste his time trying to kill her.

This is more fun. Because even though she agrees, he can still make her shudder. Just like now when he bends over her and breathes on her ear.

“Ladies first.” Tyki holds out his hand; she rises and ignores it as she walks over to the bed. Only when she sits down does she hold out her hand.

He kisses it with lightest of kisses, just like how one of his butterflies would land. Her fingers twitch imperceptibly; he feels it more than sees it. He is not allowed to kiss her lips or even go remotely near her face; the last time he insisted she’d kicked him. So the only kiss they actually shared was the one she gave him to seal their pact. He remembers it; he tasted the sweetness of her fear and the bitterness of her determination that refused to leave his tongue.

But there’s nothing really to stop him from kissing the rest of her body. Let her tremble. Let her temperature rise. Let her heart race. Let her ache, for him. His lips trace her arm; she might be clothed, but to him it’s nothing. He touches whatever he wants to; his tongue licks skin and nothing else. It’d certainly be easier if she took of her clothes, but most of the time she does not.

She’s being intimate…without being intimate. It’s probably her way of distancing herself. Well, whatever she wants. He sucks on her fingers one by one, teeth scraping gently against knuckles and fingernails. In this dim light, he can tell her face is flushed.

He slides a hand up her side and lets his thumb pass through clothing. That finger brushes the underside of her breast, rubbing back and forth until she lowers her head. Her heart beats underneath his finger. It’d be so easy to plunge it in, gouge it out.

But her Innocence is a strange one. Like Allen’s, it just might backfire on him. Fucking annoying Innocence. So instead he leaves marks with his nails, little pinches, until she sharply tells him to quit teasing her.

“But that’s my nature.”

“You’re not the Noah of Teasing. You’re the Noah of Pleasure.”

“Starlet, they go hand in hand.”

“Then do other things with your hands.”

“Being churlish hardly suits you.”

“I’m stating what I want, Tyki Mikk.”

“Sure, sure.” He digs a little, one last time, before pushing her down and letting his hands roam over her torso and breasts. She turns her head, not looking at him.

That was another condition—they would not look each other in the eyes. Any eye contact would instantly be broken and redirected. She’s fussy, he thinks, as he pushes her jacket and shirt up just slightly so that he could at least see more of her skin. It contrasted nicely with his (though it’d be better improved with more red) and he brushes his palm over her stomach. Her skirt has fallen to reveal her thighs; the trace of shorts peeks out from underneath. He licks the expanse of skin there and she suddenly digs her hands into his hair.

Amused, he looks up. “What?”

“You’re taking too long.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“I don’t have all night.”

“Oh, very well.” If she wants it fast…he pushes her skirt up and without warning, slips his tongue against her groin. Through layers of fabric, he finds where it is that she is most sensitive and beings lapping. Only then does she actually make soft, stifled sounds.

That’s what he likes to hear.

___---|||:|||---___

She’d close her eyes, but wariness prevails, and so she looks. His nose, bumping against her, his tongue, doing unspeakable things. It all aches fiercely in a way that wants her to buck her hips. She presses a hand to her chest, squeezing. Why is he so damn good at this. Would she prefer it better if it didn’t feel good? She might be the one to initiate this, but he kept it going. There is no love for him, none at all. This was purely for a greater cause.

And it was less risky than dying. Right? Better than seeing Kanda bleed, swear, and then heal even as he looks more cracked with every mission. Better than Allen’s tears and screams and how he walks a dangerous line. Better than seeing Lavi snap, with deadened eyes and cold expression. She could take this.

The pleasure was a side thing. She didn’t come here to feel good. Still, as his hands steal up and massage her breasts, her head falls back and she raggedly moans. No words, only sounds.

He’s dragging her, slowly, to an edge. His tongue probes and his lips touch all the right areas. His fingers go through her clothing and they tease at her nipples until it all comes together and she’s afraid of her heart bursting, at the rate it beats. From experience she knows it won’t, yet the thought of it still lingers in her mind. Her fingers hurt from balling into fists and her lips are sore from biting. And then he stops, and shifts away. Dampness clings to her, but she has not reached climax yet.

His clothing rustles; she watches as he pulls off his shirt, revealing a myriad of scars, courtesy of Allen. If it were another person, she’d pity him, but she remembers how it had all backfired and how things had gone down in the Ark. He sheds his belt, unzips and pushes everything down to his knees and stops there.

“The second part of this deal,” he says as he climbs back on the bed, a smirk playing at his lips.

“You needn’t remind me.” This is what unnerves her most and she tries to best not to let it show. She turns over and rests her face against her arms.

Tyki lets out a disappointed sound. “I won’t get to see your pretty features like this.”

“You don’t need to see them.”

“Have it your way, starlet.” Hands hips her hips, and she bites down just as he enters her. It no longer hurts, but she still has to adjust to his girth. When he grunts and sheathes himself nearly all the way in, she has to force herself not to tear away and punch him.

It’s easier when he moves; he brushes against something deep inside her that is better than before and she bites down on the bedsheets. Gradually he finds the rhythm and they move together.

She says nothing when his hands find her again to touch her chest. They slide over her skin; for one brief instant she wonders what it’d be like if she were naked, but she stamps out the thought.

This man is not her lover. He is a deal, nothing more.

“I’ve slept with plenty of girls and women. Some ask me to join them, others I coerce. Some live, others die.” He’s quite talkative today, isn’t it. “But you’re the first one to ask me for something like this. Should I be impressed by now?”

“You can be whatever you want,” she grounds out, hating how unnatural her voice sounds now.

“Lenalee Lee, you’re a strange one.”

“So?”

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

The question catches her off balance and he thrusts in the right motion that leaves her gasping. She catches her breath and grits her teeth.

“That’s none of your business.”

“What would your precious Order think? What would your friends think?” How does he manage to keep his tone of voice this level? “What are you getting out of this?”

“Whatever I promised with you.”

“You’ll ruin yourself.”

“I don’t care.” She keeps her emotions still blanketed; emotional distancing took time. She learned to shut herself down, close off things. She understands she doesn’t take very good care of herself. The only time she can’t keep things in is when her friends are dying. Only then does she break. But she refuses to break for herself. Herself, she has shamed before when she almost killed herself. She promised herself she’d never do that again.

So this is, according to her, not as bad as attempting suicide. It scrapes and stabs inward but she is pushing it away all the same. Painful pleasure; as he rubs the area where they meet and she buries her face against the mattress to smother her voice. Only when he finally drags her down the edge does she cry out and shake, pressing against his body. She swallows heavily and shreds the sheets with her fingers.

And then it’s over when his breathing hitches and he jerks hard against her once, twice, and then stops. His hand strokes her cheek one last time, before he pulls away.

She says nothing to him as she rolls over and sits up; she feels sticky and tired, and a little cold now that the heat in her body fades. Her fingers rake through her hair, and then smooth her clothing to make herself presentable.

“A word of advice.”

“I don’t take advice from Noah,” she responds promptly. “But talk.” It’s not as if he’ll listen if she tells him to shut up.

It takes her willpower not to jump when he grips her chin and he breaks a rule by looking into her eyes. Yellow, glowing, and catlike. She narrows her own.

“This agreement won’t last forever; someone will find us out. Maybe one of mine. Maybe one of yours. But before that—” He lets go of her chin and stands. “I’ve been around enough butterflies to know they prefer sunlight. You linger to long in the dark, and your beauty will fade.”

“Why are you comparing me to an insect?”

“That was a compliment. I happen to like butterflies.” As if to make a point, he waves a hand and a cloud of them flutters all around him. “But while they’re beautiful and some of them will drink blood, not all of them do. Some of them are more fragile. Their wings shred. They break limbs. And sometimes their own weight works against them.”

Her throat closes.

Tyki blows a kiss at her as he melts into shadows. “I suggest you think a little more about this. There are no qualms if I’m caught, but captive butterflies die quickly.”

And then he’s gone. She makes sure he is by listening and waiting until the uneasiness she has around him lessens and her heart slows.

Then she kicks a chair across the room and listens to it break.  “Don’t you dare patronize me, Tyki Mikk,” she breathes out, her hands tightening into fists. “I know what I’m doing.”

And she knows the consequences of being found out. But they can’t kill her. Komui holds enough sway and she knows (or is it a hope) that every Exorcists and ever Finder will vouch for her.

She will not think of being locked up.

She will not remember those days.

As she steps up to the window to leave, to return to her normal life, a Tease butterfly flits near her face. Lenalee studies it for a moment, and remembers how Allen stabbed one through when it had landed on her. It twitched, in the throes of death. “I may end up killing you if try to lay another hand on my friends,” he had said, before attacking.

This one would twitch and crunch if she crushed or stamped it. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets it settle on her hand before it starts looking hungry and then she flings it out to let the wind catch it.

Allen does things his way, and she’ll do it her way. If Allen can get away with doing what he believes he’s right, so can she. All it takes a little courage and shutting out the voices that said otherwise.

But when she takes flight and bursts of green trail behind her, tears rise in her eyes.

Her happiness was another price, the one price that might threaten to tear down.

Author’s Note: Next is a Cross/Lenalee. I know I said no Cross requests, but this one sneaked in before I made that limitation. Plus, it has Lenalee and I have to be honest and say Lenalee is easier to write.

Chapter Text

Characters: Lavi/Lenalee

Warnings: Inappropriate things in semi-public, like footjobs and such.

Author’s Note: Lavi is one lucky guy to have Lenalee.

Tiptoe

One of the best things about Lenalee, according to Lavi, is her legs. Graceful, powerful, agile…three in one. Whether she is walking, flying, or training, he likes seeing them. The sway of her hips with each step she takes, the lovely curve of her ankle as she twirls mid-air, and the way they snap when she brings one up for a kick.

No, he didn’t fall in love her legs first. He loved her personality, her smile, her talent, her. Her legs and feet were simply compliments to her. When they got together, he might as well have died and gone to heaven. Whether they’re curled around his waist or resting on his shoulders, he lavishes much attention on them. He has massaged smooth skin and small toes. His tongue has memorized the expanse of her knee…he has waxed eloquent about nearly ever part of her legs.

To which she graciously takes. Even the poetry. Lavi really did enjoy seeing her smile and how her toes curl when she laughs. All things are beautiful and he thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the world.

His libido he considers normal, but sometimes it takes over him. Sitting next to her, walking with her…his eyes drift. They have done "it" in his bed. Her bed. A closet. Behind locked doors of a library. And even a hallway. Those moments weree desperate and quick, but her face and eyes would always a glow to them that he's come to love. And while they panted into each other’s ears, holding themselves up, he didn’t think too much of it, not even the curious gleam in her eye when he says they might do this again.

___---|||:|||---___

Sometimes, there were grand affairs in the Orders. A rare break was given; someone’s birthday or maybe it was an official or someone moved up in rank. Either way, there was a party and they were enjoying themselves. Lavi happened to be sitting next to Lenalee, Kanda at his side and Allen next to Lenalee. They’d gotten to the speech part of the celebrations; some people were definitely zoning out. Lavi chances a glance at Bookman; he’s nodding off. So was Allen. Kanda is stoically eating soba (and ignoring the cake).

He’s considering a nap of his own when something bumps his elbow. He looks down at the napkin, with some words scribbled on it. ‘Bored?’ the napkin reads. Lenalee rolls a pen towards him.

He unfolds it to reply. ‘Yeah.’

‘Same.’

‘Your brother gave a really heartfelt speech before.’

‘I didn’t mind it, but now it’s one of the inspectors and I don’t want to listen to them.’ Most the higher-ups, Lenalee does not like to think about, and it’s understandable.

After glancing around, he chances a pat on her hand. ‘Me neither. Long-winded prattlers, all of them.’

‘Let’s play a game?’

“…a game?” He whispers. Writing takes too long.

She replies in the same hushed voice. “Can you think of anything?”

“Not really. It would give away the fact we aren’t listening.”

“You’re right…” She sighs and chews on the end of her thumb. Lavi tugs at the collar of his shirt, and wishes for more comfortable clothing.

“…Lavi.”

“Hm?”

She smiles at him…or maybe it’s more of a smirk. “Don’t move.”

He blinks. “Okay?” Should he be distrusting that smile?

Lenalee shifts a little closer to him, turning sideways in her chair. He keeps an eye on Kanda and Allen, and also on Komui. Especially when her leg presses against his. Did she take her shoe off? At the trailing of toes up his leg, this is confirmed.

Shit.

He looks at her, as if to ask just what is she doing.

She simply puts her cheek against her hand, still smiling at him. Without breaking their gazes, her foot carefully travels up to his knee and stops.

He'll stop breathing in a few minutes. Maybe in a few seconds. To his credit, he manages to stay sill. “Lena—?” he breathes, his face beginning to grow warm.

“Shh.” She rests a finger over her smiling lips.

He swallows hard and as casually as he can, rests his chin in his hand so that his fingers obscure half his face and hide the deepening blush stealing over. Her foot is now rubbing up and down his thigh; first his right, then his left. It moves in circles, waves, zigzags, and other random patterns. And her pace? Very, very slow and very, very deliberate. So subtle is she that he can’t even tell that she is moving at all. His eyes dart from Lenalee to Allen to Kanda. If they’re caught, he might lose his pride and manhood…and other painful things. Bad, Lavi. Don’t think about possibly getting castrated.

His body tingles, from head to toes, and especially where her toes are tracing. They dip in a little more, and then, ever so gently, ghost over his crotch.

Lavi has to remember to breathe as he feels the friction through his clothes. The sensation of rubbing up and down and side to side drives out any other thoughts he’s had, as well as any hopes of actually paying attention. He tightens his hand over his mouth and inhales through his nose as deeply as he can.

It is a very good thing that this table has a cloth over it. His pants are unbearably tight; she has no problem squeezing his cock with her toes, curling against it and pressing firmly. Somehow, he scribbles something on the napkin and pushes it towards her.

‘Why?’ he asks. His throat is too dry for whispering. Not even gulping down his water does anything for it.

She pauses to write a reply. ‘Because this is more interesting than listening.’

A glance at her face tells him everything; flushed, pink cheeks and a glowing in her eyes. Her lips are also parted and her fingers catch at tablecloth fabric, gripping it.

His chair squeaks; he’s attempting to move a little lower, to better feel what she is doing. Her heel drags along his testicles while the arch of her foot perfectly fits over his erection; formal dress or no, he has loosened his tie and undone the top button out of sheer need for coolness.

As if to distract himself, he lets his gaze drift over her. The sweep of her hair piled on top her head, with one strand curling against her ear. The earrings—diamond, he thinks—dangling and swaying with every movement of her head. Her neck, thin and graceful…and then her shoulders; the cut of her gown reveals their shape, as well as her back. He wants to put his fingers there, against her spine, and pushing off her sleeves…

Fuck, his mind is back on his aching groin. Is she determined to get him off? Because he’s getting close and she continues to…fondle him with her toes.

Lavi swallows and gently coughs. Lenalee glances at him, and then he has his answer.

She likes this.

He must look damn flustered right now, but she doesn’t seem to care. She is feeling his movements, sensing his agitation, and her eyes and the small hints she drops with the shape of her mouth gives it away.

He slips a hand under the table and rests it over her feet. In responses, she digs a little harder and he hisses and drops his hand.

‘Do you like this?’ she mouths at him.

He nods, then shudders a little. Only a little more now; the ache has intensified and the beginnings of something was at the tip of his cock.

‘You’re going to have to do this for me someday.’ Her toe presses against the side and circles.

‘I will,’ Lavi manages to mouth this even as his hands dig into the table, coming then and there. He ends up biting on his finger to keep from making any sounds as he spills into his pants and the pleasure makes him shiver from head to toe. “Fuck,” he breathes out, inhaling as quietly as he can. His face is still hot.

Lenalee withdraws her foot and he shifts to compensate for the mess in his pants. She’s still flushed and her breathing is soft but erratic to his ears. He slips his hand over hers, silently asking if she’s fine.

She lifts a shoulder and smiles.

He’s not satisfied, but he waits until he isn’t stiff anymore, and then rises. A push of napkin towards her; then he walks off. A bathroom excuse is always a good one; he slips out and heads for an isolated hallway, and then unbuttons more of his shirt as he waits.

Exactly eight minutes later, she is walking towards him, then running. He catches her in a kiss, a kiss that he’d been longing to give her. He can taste the eagerness and anticipation, the desire and need that she carries. Her arms her tight around him and her breasts press against his chest.

They break apart, both a little breathless; she runs her tongue her lower lip, eyes still alight. He traces that lip with a finger.

“You’re crazy, Lenalady.”

“Only sometimes, to match yours.”

He chuckles. “Point taken.” Unable to resist any longer, he pushes one sleeve off her shoulder in order to touch the soft skin there. While she has legs, her shoulders were something else he enjoys touching.

But she makes an impatient sound; he gives her wink, and then he goes down on his knees after sparing the area a glance.

“You could hide a person in your skirts.”

“Maybe. Are you asking if you can hide?”

“No, I have other plans.” Lavi slips his hands underneath; there are layers of fabric as well as petticoats and he pushes at them until he can feel her thighs.

…She is wearing garters. His fingers trace their outline and considers it his lucky day. “Perhaps I’ll get to see you later without all these skirts and you can show me everything that’s left.”

Lenalee flicks a finger at his cheek. “You wish.”

“What if I asked nicely?”

“It would depend on how you…do right now.” That last part comes out in a rush. She swallows and looks at him imploringly.

And he obliges by slipping his hand into her panties. She moans his name and braces herself against the wall as he touches her. He does so gently and slowly, sliding it up and over that tiny bit of area that makes her press against him, and back down where he dips into her entrance.

“Was this how you felt when you were messing with me at the table?”

“Mm. I guess.” She closes her eyes, shoulders and chest heaving.

“All hot and bothered.” A twist of his hand and she lets out a soft, pleading sound. He raises himself slightly so that he could kiss those lips again. “Lenalee—”

Her response is to kiss him hard and leave no room for breathing even as he increases his pace. Her hands tousle his hair while her tongue tangles with his. His other arm ends up having to support her; they probably look quite unsightly with the angles of their bodies, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even care that his knees are going numb in this position.

His fingers coax more sounds out of her, as well as other responses—the shuddering of her shoulders, the movement of her hips, and then she climaxes and the sound she makes against her mouth is a beautiful one. He rubs his hand over her crotch a few more times before she sags against him and he has to catch her without the use of one hand. Her arms are now around his neck, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline.

They stay like that for a bit, listening to each other’s pulses and breathing. Far away, he can distantly hear people murmuring.

“I swear…you like this, don’t you?” He strokes her back with his clean hand.

“Like what?”

“Doing it out here, where people might walk by.”

She busies herself with fixing his hair. “Maybe and maybe not.”

“Well, I liked it.”

“You did?”

“Took my mind off that boring speech instantly. Course I did.”

“I thought it would make an interesting surprise.”

Lavi kisses her on the nose. “Lenalady, the best surprise will always be you in my life.”

Her laugh echoes in the empty corridor. “You’re also the best thing to have happened to me.”

God, he isn’t supposed to love. But he is and will do so as long as he can. It’s Lenalee; she’s become part of his life like breathing and being alive. Even if she did have a strangely devious mind that he hadn’t know about. As they part in order to actually use the restrooms, he figures there must be more that he can coax out of her to do.

…or maybe it was the other way around.

Because sometimes, it’s clear that she’s running this relationship, and not him.

All hail the great Lenalee Lee, with boots made for walking and killing.

(He’s hopeless, isn’t he.)

(But he’s okay with that. Really.)

 Author’s Note: Tyki/Lavi is next…which is going to be in such a different tone from this. Eventually I’ll get back to writing dark Lavi/Lena, if the mood strikes me.

Chapter Text

Characters: Tyki/Lavi

Warnings: Sex, with mostly consent.

Author’s Note: So between being busy, exhausted, frustrated (computer and MS word problems), stuck on this one, and the flu last week, I think I might’ve finally solved it. I’ve loosely followed the request given to me, which was Tyki/Lavi and making Lavi talk.

Talk

“Eyepatch-kun~”

He cracks his eye open; it’s one of the few things he can actually do without everything else hurting. His throat is dry, but not when he coughs and brings up the copper taste of blood. His blood. Somehow, he manages to look at the speaker, whom he already knows by voice. There’s only one person who speaks with that lazy tone, and calls him that.

“What.” God, he’s beginning to sound like Kanda. One-word replies filled with annoyance.

Tyki hovers before him. “You don’t look good.”

“Y’said that before,” he slurs. A finger twitches; now if only he could raise it to shove that face away from his.

“My brother doesn’t play nice.”

Ugh. “How about your family isn’t nice.” When you’re a Bookman, you’re supposed to be unbiased. But he’s wearing the Order uniform right now and as an Exorcist he fucking hates this.

To think Allen once tried to save this one in particular. How quickly it had backfired.

“Do you want me to do something about those parasites?”

“Does the sun…shine?”

“We could play twenty questions, Eyepatch-kun.”

“Why?”

“Maybe because I like playing with Exorcists. Allen Walker, he’s no fun right now, but maybe you are. Road does tell me you’re a delight.”

“Doesn’t she say that about everyone?” Lavi raises his head a little higher; he can glare and so he will glare until he goes blind.

“You’d be dead if she didn’t like you.” Tyki moves away to light a cigarette.

Lavi draws a shaky breath. “Well, thanks in th’vote of confidence for my abilities.”

“You’re welcome. Now should we start?”

“Fuck that.”

“Are you really in any condition to be talking about fucking?”

He bites on his tongue. That’s a jibe and one he’s not giving into.

Golden eyes study his face. Noah cat eyes; they glow and blink less than his. He looks away. “Do all of you love playing games,” he grouses, “Or is it just you and Road.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. The world’s so boring that we have to make it more interesting.”

“By killing?”

“I thought you were Bookman. No opinions, was it?”

“I’m wearing a uniform.” Nausea and pain roil, but he shoves Tyki away from him. “This record isn’t over yet.”

“Pity.”

“Really?”

“We might’ve let you go a little more quickly.”

“The old man’s not gonna say anything.” Lavi clicks dry lips and clicks his tongue. “No matter what you threaten him with.”

“You did know he’s lost one apprentice, don’t you.”

He stays silent.

“What, did you think we’re blind to that? He cares about you.”

“He just cares about his precious records that’ll die with me.”

“Aren’t you so supportive of him, Eyepatch-kun.”

“That's not even my name.”

“You’d prefer I use Lavi?”

A cringe. And the fucking Noah sees him.

“Lavi it is, then.”

His name clings to that tongue, heavy and sticky. Honeyed words, with a sweetness that seems to drag him further.

“What do you want?” Lavi asks this, even though he already knows what they want, but it is information he cannot give.

He does not know it.

Only Bookman does.

And his superior refuses to say a word.

“A little cooperation goes a long away…”

“Did you tell that to Allen?”

“He turned us down.”

“Good for him.” Allen plays his own instruments, and few powers could force him to go where he doesn’t wish to tread.

“He’s in awful shape though. Gives you a run for your money. I look at both of you, and I think, ‘what a sad pair the two of you would make.’ Although,” Cigarette odor wafts into his nose, “His chances are somewhat higher than yours.”

“What if…I asked for an exchange of information?”

“Oh? Bargaining?”

“Bookman listens to me. For every piece of information I get you, you tell me something I’ve been wanting to know about Noah. And…you get these parasites out of me.” Squirmy little things, causing him pain.

“You have to offer a little bit more than that, Lavi. Give me something better, or else those parasites aren’t going anywhere.” Tyki finishes his cigarette and drops it on the ground, grinding it underneath his heel.

Something better?

He knows he’s hardly in the place to bargain. Short of—

…

Lavi raises a hand. “I’ll tell you something you’ve been dying to here.”

“You’re more the one to be dying.” But the Noah moves closer.

He beckons with a jerk of his head. “Gotta be whispered. I don’t know who might be listening.”

“A secret only for my ears? How splendid.”

The amused grin belongs to a cat, not a human. But he wants until they are only an inch apart, before he steels himself.

He kisses him. A little painfully; his neck hurts and his muscles spasm. But Lavi’s not a bad kisser and he knows it. He knows how much pressure and how to ease into it. And then Tyki kisses back and for the first moment he feels sick until he tastes desire, honey, and cigarettes.

Lavi tugs away, smacking the back of his still-bruised skull against a wall. Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Tyki laughing.

“Is that what you’re offering? Or maybe a little more than that?”

He coughs before replying. “Only if I can properly move. I can make it hard or easy.”

“Dangerous words, to be said to someone who can carve your heart out of your chest perfectly.”

“And I’m someone who can take secrets and sell them to the highest bidder, if I wanted to.” He looks up, and makes his gaze as even as possible.

Tyki shrugs a shoulder. “Oh very well. I suppose we could come to…that agreement. Though what will Bookman say?”

“Nothing.”

“Consider it done, then.”

Lavi silently congratulates himself for that lie.

Of course Bookman would object. He’d be an idiot not to.

___---|||:|||---___

To breathe without feeling as if rust and chains were around your chest—he appreciates it. Fully. Pale, weary and aching but definitely an improvement. Although he hoped for exactly half and hour Tyki wouldn’t agree.

Now he has to uphold his end of the bargain.

Tyki comes for him exactly one day after those parasites were removed. No words, just an open door and a look. Lavi has no Innocence, no weapon; he’s not at his full strength. No running. He recites the periodic table in his mind as they walk through long corridors with no windows and dark, dimly lit stairways. He still has no idea where he is, and the days have blended together.

But they finally reach some room; he enters first, and then Tyki locks the door behind him. This room is somewhat plain; aside from the gaudy wallpaper and carpet, there’s only a bed and drawer. Still no window. A cold creeps into his skin, from his shoulders and traveling down his spine. And it only increases when fingers slide to rest around his waist.

“Why are all of you Exorcists so scrawny?”

“Because we’re tired of having to destroy your precious Akuma.”

“Machines. Can’t you create your own to fight them?”

“That’s our job.” Machines, sent them out one by one or two by two. Capture them, take them, enslave them, and make them do their duty. God, he must be really tired if he’s this sardonic about the Order.

“Yet you stay.”

Lavi looks at the ceiling and traces the pattern with his sight.

Tyki nudges him. “Strip,” he says, without preamble.

“You can’t just use your renowned abilities?”

“Humor me. I enjoy a nice sight, not just a nice touch.”

Humor him, indeed. Lavi curses in four different languages in his mind as he shrugs out his coat and boots. Shirt and pants do next, and then finally boxers.

Tyki’s glance is far too slow, as it trails over his body, lingering on certain areas. As nonchalantly as he can, Lavi crosses his arms and taps a foot. “Is this it? Then it’s almost too easy.”

It is not smart to goad your enemy. But he’s nervous and when he is, he runs his mouth. Reckless.

“You only wish.” The Noah sits down on the bed, patting his lap. “Here.”

Lavi opens his mouth to ask a question, but his wrist is grabbed and he’s yank down and manhandled so that he’s lying across Tyki’s legs, with his thighs trapped underneath one leg, his hips in an unfortunately ostentatious pose.

Is he blushing, yes, he is. Even more so when Tyki pins his wrists over his head.

“You don’t seem to be a virgin.”

“Exorcists have sex, too.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes.”

“Then you won’t mind this, will you.” A hand on his cock, that slowly begins to squeeze. Heat pools, starting in his face and then grows, pushing downwards.

He can’t help but be affected; apply pressure and instantaneous results. Tyki’s hand fits oddly well on him, and he knows how to stroke. A hard squeeze, then sliding, then some light squeezing while a thumb brushes over the tip of his cock before sliding down to dip between his balls. Lavi finds his feet flexing; he’d move his hips but he’s immobile. Utterly immobile, in fact. In this strange position, he can’t buck upwards, and his legs are half-numb. Dampness seeps from the tip of his stiffening erection; he can hear his own inhales and exhales getting faster.

“You like that.”

“Does it matter?” He swallows thickly.

“Of course it does.” The Noah seems amused. He quickens his hand, just a little bit. Lavi almost moan. “I’m not exactly forcing you to do this. You might as well enjoy it while you can.”

He knows he’s not the only one enjoying it; there’s a press of something against his backside, ever growing. A fingernail scrapes the side of his cock; he breathes in a little more forcefully. Tyki knows what he’s doing—teasing, tracing…and other wonderful little actions that have Lavi panting with need. And just as he feels himself on the brink, the hand moves away.

Tyki releases him, wrists and thighs. He only has a few seconds to flex, ready to protest, but then the Noah removes his own clothes in a few smooth motions, and motions to Lavi.

“I’m assuming you know what to do?”

“Do—?” A glance down. Ah, that.

He slides off the bed and kneels before the spread legs. Swirling his tongue over the tip of Tyki’s erection, he looks up. A hand nudges at his head; he makes a slightly annoyed sound, but dips forward. His gag reflex isn’t bad; he takes nearly the whole cock, sucking.

Do Noah taste any different from other humans? Not really. He might be the first. Somewhat rather sarcastically, he wonders if he ought to be retain this information. It’s not like it’s useful. Even so, he’s picking up the way Tyki reacts to him. Abdominal muscles stand out with each breath, and he has to compensate for every hitch of the hips that threatens to choke him. When Tyki finally pushes him away, a trail of clear-stickiness clings to his tongue.

He’s yanked up for a kiss. A hard, rough one that’ll leave his lips sore. He snaps a little, teeth catching on lips before a tongue pushes against his own tongue and he’s manuveured onto the bed again. The rest of Tyki’s body is hot, hotter than his; he splays his hands, feeling rough scars under his fingers. Allen seriously did a number on him if these scars aren’t healing.

Lavi pulls away to breathe; Tyki takes this time to turn him around and press his chest against the mattress while nudging his hips up.

Hmph. He looks over his shoulder with some disgust in his eyes. “Really?”

“They say it gives the best penetration.” Tyki lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

He begs to differ, but says nothing. He ought to be relieved that Tyki’s preparing him. Really. Really? Lavi bites down on a knuckle, as there’s the awkward feeling of half-sensitivity and half-pleasure as oiled fingers slide in, one after another. His knees tremble a little in this position, from the strain of holding up.

But he doesn’t have to hold much longer when he’s entered; hands hold him up and he actually sighs.

He’s not supposed to be enjoying any of this. But when Tyki pushes; he shifts back, their hips jointly moving.

“I thought you’d be all ready to kill me, not agree to this,” he faintly hears himself saying.

“Pleasure, Lavi. Killing you would be boring. Do you really think I want to get my hands dirty just so I can wash them.” The Noah grinds against him, and hits the perfect spot that makes Lavi unclench his fingers and gasp. “Besides, I was curious.”

“About?”

“Whether or not Bookman actually did this sort of thing.”

“So as long as it doesn’t get in the way of—recording.” Oh God, his knees have weakened and he’s being supported only by hands holding him up. “ts’not like I love you or anything.”

“Oh ow,” he says in mockery. “I thought we had something special.”

“Don’t think I would forget you tried to kill us on the Ark.” A hand pinches his nipples and he bites down on his lip. “But I guess you leave memories to some other Noah.”

Tyki trails his hand up and down his body. “No hard feelings. I gave you the chance to escape, didn’t I? The Earl was dead set on seeing all of you disappear into nothingness. Would’ve saved from problems.” That hand slides over his mouth and fingers enter his mouth. “You talk too much, Lavi.”

“Gnthr,” is all he manages. He rolls his eye and shoves back. It’s wanton and he ought to be fighting or something else, but if he finish after Tyki, he’ll consider that an accomplishment.

Only he can’t seem to set the pace. Tyki’s finger dig into his hip, and he thrusts slowly, letting momentum build up. Lavi grows sweaty, impatient, and he has to breathe around those fingers in his mouth.

Well, fuck that. As much as he can manage, he ignores the pinching pain and rolls his hips back deliberately, and slides a hand down to cup himself.

“I know what you’re doing,” Tyki suddenly says, but his voice sounds rather strained. “Trying to outlast me?”

Lavi lifts a shoulder; he’d flip a finger but currently his hand is kneading the bedsheets and the other one is gripping himself.

“Oh very well. But then today, you get Bookman to share a little extra information and I’ll give you a little less.”

Well, it’s not the worse. Lavi slowly nods before he jerks back.

Tyki only lasts another minute or so before he spills, grunting a little. He feels it, and as the thrusts falter, he squeezes his cock and stroke until he climaxes as well, knees finally giving out as he moans and twists against the sheets.

A hand caresses his backside. “You’re not bad.”

“And I’ve had better.” Better fucks, with better people.

The Noah moves away from him; he sits up and brushes at his hair, which is plastered to his face in damp spikes.

“Still, it wasn’t boring.” As if to prove his point, Tyki, slides his finger against Lavi’s arm, and lets the tip of it slide into his skin. It touches muscle and the redhead forces himself not to move. Parasites have been in him for much longer; this is nothing.

“What do you actually take seriously, Tyki Mikk?” Lavi asks.

He watches as the other reaches for another cigarette, lights it, and then puffs smoke in his face. “Tell me what you know about the Fourteenth, and I’ll give you the whole family background.”

Sometimes, Lavi wonders if it’s better to be fully one side as opposed to this nebulous life he leads. Humans are stupid, be them normal or Noah. But it’s also a personal matter of what he can stomach, and there’s things in the Order that disgust him too.

But he’ll debate morals with himself, and not while he’s naked and sitting with an equally naked Noah.

Author’s Note: Next is the OT4. Oh merciful deities, please be with me as I write an OT4 once again…I love reading them, but they’re hard to coordinate sometimes.

Chapter Text

Characters: Kanda/Allen/Lenalee/Lavi

Warnings: Polyamory, established relationship—sex between four people.

Author’s Note: emphasis on Allen this time. Lucky guy. As for where this is on the timeline, it’s after the Ark Arc but before the whole mess with Kanda and Alma. Fanfiction gives me some leeway on that, I hope.

No POV change; everything is in Allen’s POV.

Respite

Allen doesn't swear all that often. But when he does, he gives Kanda a run for his money. It’s mostly when people can’t hear him, after all. What? He’s a gentleman for the most part.

But even he can’t help muttering as he fusses with bandages. “Ah—fuck,” he breathes as he tries to swing his arm, but it’s stiff from being wrapped. “Don’t you dare say a thing, Link.” He sustained far too many injuries this time. None of them life-threatening, but annoying.

Link only looks at him as placidly as he can manage. “Why would I?”

“Oh, I don't know. I thought I would deserve a lecture or something.”

“Not when you seem to be doing a fine job of it yourself.” The inspector looks away from him to his papers. “Go to sleep, Walker.”

“I’m sick of sleeping.” He stretches out his sprained ankle, and wonders if he ought to ice it a little more.

“Do I have to knock you out?”

He grumbles as he turns over on his side, wincing a little as it tugs at his wounds. They’re a few days old, still quite fresh. But at least he’s been allowed to return to his room instead of being stuck with hovering nurses and doctors. Well, if he sleeps now, he’ll be able to wake up in the middle of the night and maybe sneak out for some more food.

Timcanpy nudges at him; he nudges back and tucks the blankets over himself. The last thing he hears is the soft scritch scritch of pen against paper.

___---|||:|||---___

When he wakes up, it’s not quite of his own will; it’s more that a hand is patting his cheek and he sleepily bats at it. “…not morning yet, Link…”

“Allen.”

“—!” he makes the most undignified of sounds as he bolts upward and almost knocks his forehead against Lenalee’s. He knows her voice well enough to identify it even in the dark. “What are you doing here?”

“Shh.” She slides cool fingers along his chin and kisses him until he is kissing back. “Because I waited all week to do that,” she whispers the instant they part.

He smiles. “Missed you, too.” A week’s a long time, and even longer since he’s been on a mission. “But…what if someone sees us—”

“Took care of that already, Beansprout.”

“It’s Alle…” The old protest dies on his lips when the desk light flickers on. “What the hell, Kanda!” he fiercely whispers. “And Lavi…you didn’t—”

Lavi waves a rag, wearing a wide grin. “Sure did.”

They drugged Link.

They drugged an inspector.

Oh bloody hell, he’s going to get it. This is going to be blamed on him and he is going to get locked up. Allen shakes his head, in disbelief.

“I can’t believe it. Oh blessed Virgin—”

“Just believe it.” And before he can say anything, Lavi has picked him up.

He protests. “Lavi, you can’t!”

The redhead only shrugs at him as he heads for the door. “S’okay, we’ll just knock you out later too. Or something. When Two Spots here wakes up, he’ll find you gone, and then either me or Kand will admit we sneaked you out for some sparring ‘cause we were bored.”

“…except you’re not doing that, are you. Not if Lenalee’s agreed to it.” He stops struggling.

“Of course not. That’s so fucking lame.” Kanda shuts the door behind them. “What do you think we got you for.”

“Y—” He stills. “Oh.” A hot flush settles on his skin. “There’s other ways,” he hisses.

“Allen, just go with us and it’ll be all right.” Lenalee touches his arm. “We’ve missed you and couldn't wait anymore.”

He admits defeat, fingers scratching at the bandage on his cheek. “So whose room is it tonight?”

“Kanda’s.”

“And Kanda didn’t put up an argument?”

“Shut up, Beansprout.” Kanda jabs an elbow into his side. “We’d do it in your room if you didn’t have someone hounding you.”

“I’m pretty sure he suspects something already…”

“God, I hope not.” Lavi shifts him a little in his arms. “We’d end up in somewhere between a rock and a hard place.”

He agrees; the rest of the walk to Kanda’s room is mostly silent. It might be late but the Order, there is always someone awake. Not that it really mattered if anyone saw them outside; they’re friends, they spend time together. Sometimes the most obvious way to hide something is to be obvious. Being in this…relationship he’s in, it doesn’t take up extra time. It’s just a matter of rearranging it. Once a week, sometimes twice. Other times they do it separately—him and Lenalee touching each other in an empty corridor, sucking Lavi inside the library, or letting Kanda fuck him in the shower.

However, it’s definitely better when they’re together. When Kanda locks the door and turns on a light, and Lavi sets him down, it begins.

Lavi grabs him by the back of his head to bring their lips together; someone is tearing at his clothes and he lets them yank his shirt off. He recognizes the body that presses up against him as Lenalee’s; she nibbles on his ear while her hands stroke over his chest.

After several times, they’ve more or less gotten this down. And while he has memorized how each one of them breathes, or the way their eyelids flutter, he still likes to see it.

He pulls away from Lavi to slide Lenalee’s shirt over her head, while she makes quick work of his pants. Then she scoots away so that Kanda can shove himself between them.

Fingers trace over the bandages he has, and dark eyes study them. “How did you get this banged up?”

“Maybe because I didn’t have any of you watching my back?”

“Allen, don’t say that.” Lenalee gently slaps Kanda on the shoulder. “And stop trying to argue with him.”

“Tch.” Kanda only raises an eyebrow and then kisses her throat, right over her pulse even as he unhooks her bra and tosses that off.

Lavi drops his own shirt and pants on the ground. “They need to quit separating us, I think.” He pulls Allen into his lap. “Look at you.”

“I’ve looked enough at myself,” he grumbles. “Could we please stop fussing over me and—ghn.”

He cut off by the hand that roughly cups him though his underwear. Of course, it’s Kanda.

“You were saying?” Lavi teases him.

A shake of his head. Lenalee is half straddling him, kissing her way down his body while Lavi holds him. “Just enjoy the fact we missed you and we’re making up for it, all right?” she says as she rolls her hips.

His eyes drift, noting how she drags her panties down her legs, leaving only skin in their wake. He slips a hand onto her back, and she bites down on his skin. Oh, he’s definitely enjoying it. Lavi is grinding into him; all these clothes are impeding and he impatiently shoves his underwear down and demands that Lavi does the same. He growls at Kanda, who is still squeezing him just a little too tightly.

“What?”

Allen simply kisses him, the way they always do. With force and ferocity and frustration. It’s pent up and when released, it floods over them. Lavi whistles as he lets go of Allen.

“Share some of that, would you?”

Kanda, surprisingly, relinquishes quickly enough to kiss Lavi. Allen stretches a little, and lets Lenalee lean against him. “So what do you have in mind,” he asks.

“Nothing too much.” She slides down his body and without much ado, swallows the tip of his cock.

He grows cold and then hot as she gently touches the underside, while her tongue swirls against his skin. Where Kanda is rough and Lavi is teasing, Lenalee tends to be deliberate in her movements. She dips him in and out of her mouth until he is white-knuckled and moaning her name.

“Getting off already?” Lavi nudges him in his good shoulder.

“You two take too long.”

“Tch.” Kanda bats at Lavi.

Lenalee draws away him and he mourns the loss, but not for long. She opens her legs to him and he slides his fingers against her crotch.

“Why do you get lucky today, Beansprout?”

“It’s Allen.”

“Because I want him to.” Lenalee presses against his hand. All of them like touching her because of her reactions; she squirms but doesn’t move away, and she comes, her shoulders do an odd little twist, her toes curl, her face flushes, and it’s a beautiful sight to them.

Lavi touches himself, in time to the movement of Allen’s hand. He sighs; Kanda shoves at him. “I’ll give you something to sigh out in a second.”

“You never disappoint, Yu.”

“Fuck you.”

“Kanda, your replies are really predictable, aren’t they,” Allen comments.

“You—”

Lenalee tugs him by the hair and kisses him; Allen watches as Kanda flushes and swallows visibly.

She pats him on the cheek. “Be nice, please?”

“Whatever,” he mutters.

And then Lenalee looks at Lavi and Allen. Allen hastily shakes his head; he’s not planning to argue anymore, no. Instead, he resumes stroking her, thumb roving her most sensitive area. She exhales shakily and slides until her head is pillowed and she’s flat on the bed. The light catches at her skin in a really lovely way, he notes. He’d think more about it, but he’s distracted when Kanda rubs his entrance and he has to relax himself for the finger entering him. He takes himself in his hand, just a bit shakily.

He hisses a bit. “Slow down.”

“Was that too fast? I thought by now you shouldn’t need any coddling.”

It’s like he just instantly forgot what Lenalee said. Allen gives him a look, and somehow holds his tongue.

“…geez.” Kanda thankfully does slow down, but it might also be because Lavi is preparing him at the same time.

When he sheathes himself into Allen, the latter inhales, shoulders shuddering, before he bends down to replace his fingers with his mouth. Lenalee curls her legs around him, her hands gripping his shoulders. Kanda lets outa strange sound; lucky bastard gets to be in the middle this time.

Still, it’s not bad like this; he laps at Lenalee’s folds and dips his tongue in gently, while from behind a stiff erection moves steadily in and out of him. A particularly hard shove causes him to fall on his injured arm and he winces. However, Kanda surprises him when he wordlessly pulls him up, supporting him.

“We don’t need you falling over onto Lena,” he says, as his way of an excuse.

Lavi snorts. “When did you become the gentleman, Yu.”

“Not when you were look-looking.” Yes, that’s a catch in his voice. Allen pushes back, grinding into the firm body behind him.

Lenalee’s fingernails dig into his skin; her moans creep into his ears and do more than tickle them. He comes a little too fast because of it, gasping and shaking as he hits the peak. Lenalee follows him, scoring his shoulders with red marks.

Kanda and Lavi take a little while longer; but Kanda climaxes with a grunt and he even cranes his neck to kiss Lavi. Lavi grins, and then closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders as he releases.

They have to adjust their positions now to fit better on the bed; Allen tucks himself into Kanda’s side (and he doesn’t even complain), while Lenalee presses herself against his back and Lavi has an arm laid over her.

She plucks at one of his bandages. “You should change these.”

“I have to go back to get more bandages.”

“Kanda has some.”

“He does?”

“Left side, third drawer.” Kanda doesn’t even open his eyes.

“Why do you even keep bandages around?”

“Because.”

Allen traces the tattoo on his shoulder. “Does it have anything to do with—”

“Don’t ask.” One dark eye cracks open; he snaps his mouth shut.

Sometimes, you could needle Kanda. You could joke with him and he’d attempt to kill you, but not really. Other times, you didn’t ask him anything.

Lavi shifts on the bed. “Ne, I wish this would last longer.”

“Mm.” Lenalee curls a little more tightly around Allen. “Agreed.”

“Anyone have the time?”

Kanda puts his head up just long enough to glance at the clock. “Three in the morning.”

“And how powerful is that…whatever you gave Link?”

“He’ll be out until for a while longer. Maybe nine?” Lavi scratches at his eyepatch.

“Please don’t tell me you overdosed him or anything like that…”

“No, of course not! I got my measurements correct.”

So, six hours. Hm… “Kanda, you have a bath, right?”

“Hn.” Kanda elbows him a bit. “Yes, I do. Now shut up so I can sleep.”

“But we could all borrow it.” And the stiffening in Kanda’s posture, Allen grins. “And kill two birds with one stone. It’s not like I can turn back up smelling…not like myself.”

He carries the scent of four people and Link would be stupid not to notice, even if drugged.

“Maybe in a two hours.” Lenalee’s hair tickles the back of his neck. “And only if we get to do massages.”

“Anything, Lenalady.” Lavi says, yawning. “Maybe we should’ve taken Tim. He would be able to wake us up.”

“Not a good idea.” Allen tells him. “His recording might get us into trouble.”

“I thought you could turn him off?”

“Precautionary. You can turn your golems off, too, but I don’t see them anywhere.”

“Touché.” Lavi reaches out to ruffle his hair. “Fine. I’ll try to wake us up.”

Lavi mostly like will. If not him, then Kanda. Both of them keep odd hours and don’t seem to have much trouble getting up. Allen used to be as well, but these days has gotten into the habit of letting Link wake him because he’s like clockwork sometimes.

It’s nice falling asleep to the breathing of others, as well as the pressure of bodies all around him.

All of them mean different things to him; he doesn’t quite have the same affection that Lenalee has, for she is what keeps them together, but he does trust all of them to varying degrees. They do more than just sleep together, touching and feeling. They’ve more or less bound themselves together, knit like really close bonds. The sex was just there because they all liked it and it was exciting.

He’s really glad Timcanpy isn’t here; he probably has the stupidest smile on his face.

Stupid, but content.

___---|||:|||---___

They get up in time and leave themselves three hours. Lenalee giggles when Allen and Kanda, tussling, fall into the water. Kanda yanks Lavi down, and only Lenalee enters gracefully. She protests that she’s anything but graceful, though, when they run a soft sponge over her body and watch her come undone.

Allen gets his turn when Lavi massages his left hand; it sends shivers up and down his spine and when Lavi slips those fingers into his mouth, he can feel himself shaking.

For Kanda, they take turns with his hair; he’s not big on people touching them but when Lenalee starting combing them, he gives. Between Lenalee’s chastising he really should shampoo instead of soaping it and Lavi trying to making a silly poem about it, he kisses Allen to make him shut up about his “girly hair.”

Lavi takes the soap and rubs it all over himself. So maybe Kanda had a little too much fun splashing water at him, but when he slides against Allen, they don’t complain because the slippery-smooth feel gets him off.

It’s a very, very relaxed group of four that finally towels off. Allen lets Lenalee fuss over his injuries, but it’s actually Kanda who wraps him the best.

See, this is why he doesn’t even think about choosing between them. They all do separate things for him. Lenalee and Kanda stay because she’s still tired and Kanda is kicking them out of his room. Lavi carries him back, the way he carried him before.

He leaves Allen with a kiss and wink, and a shut door. Allen catches the clock a little past nine and sneaks a glance at Link.

Still out.

So he closes his eyes and stretches out and pulls the covers over him, like he’d spent the whole night there.

Maybe half an hour later, Link wakes up, loudly.

“Mmrgh?” he mumbles.

“Allen Walker.”

“I didn’t eat the donuts you were saving. They’re still in that box.” He tries to turn over but Link grips his shoulder.

“You did something to me.”

“I didn’t!”

“Then why, pray tell, do I have a headache?”

“If you have a headache, you shouldn’t be shouting.”

“I’m not!”

“All right! It was Lavi. He dragged me out and we stayed up and played cards.”

“You should’ve—”

“I didn’t plan it! I was asleep when…Lavi drugged you. I yelled at him.” Allen shrugs apologetically. “Really, Link.”

A semi-staring contest ensues.

Allen smiles, in hopes of placating him. He does silent curse Lavi, though. Really, they could’ve come up with something better.

Link breaks their gazes. He rubs his forehead. “Do not under any circumstances repeat this, Walker, or else I will have to write you up.”

“I’ll let Lavi know.”

“I will also not write down the fact you smell like Yu Kanda.”

“…”

“…yes?”

Allen laughs, to keep the uncertain tone out of his voice. “I’m not sure I understand?”

“Soap, Walker. It’s lavender. The only people who use it are two scientists and Yu Kanda. I highly doubt you were with any scientists.” Link isn’t even look at him; he’s rummaging in a drawer somewhere.

Something in his stomach is cold. He exhales. “Link, we—”

“Does it have anything to do with why you are supervised.”

“No.”

“Then I will. Let. It. Slide. This time.” Link looks up at him, a cryptic look on his stern features. “But do be less obvious about it.”

He can’t even find a reply to that. Instead, he pulls the covers over his head. There is no mention of Lavi or Lenalee, which is good.

Maybe he wasn’t that much a heretic after all.

Or maybe Link didn’t care at all? But why wouldn’t he?

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Link.”

“I am thinking that you probably picked a fight with Yu Kanda, and you didn’t want to wake me up, therefore you borrowed his quarters to clean up afterwards.”

… “Something like that, yes.” He closes his eyes and nearly laughs again.

“Come up with a better excuse next time.”

“I will.” Actually, he’s not sure if Link is playing along, or if he truly believes it. Sometimes he just couldn't tell. Kanda is hard to read, but Link is even harder.

Why is he surrounded by so many closed books? Then again, he’s a closed book himself.

“It was a very nice respite, though. Even though we fought,” he hears himself saying. “And I had cookies.”

He ought to take the award for “World’s Greatest Liar” sometimes. It’s almost convincing that fools him…

Except that he remembers Lavi’s hands, Lenalee’s kisses, and Kanda’s eyes. He could drown in all of them and never want to rise again.

Just a respite, indeed.

Author’s Note: My apologies for any typos that you see. They will be corrected at a later date.

Also, for those who don’t follow my tumblr—I put a post asking if people would like to participate in kiribans. Kiribans on deviantart are the “hitting every thousandth mark,” like 1,000 or 2,000 or 3,000 and then whoever gets a screenshot of the 1,000 or 2,000 gets a free fanart. Only for X.E.S. instead of fanart, you would get an extra fic request. If enough people are interested, I’ll do that. This is because I recently reached 1,000 much faster than I expected. I probably will do one at 1,500 because that’s a little more attainable than going by the thousands, but if you’re interested, leave a comment.

Thanks for all who’ve been reading so far!

Last of all: 14th|Allen/Kanda next.

Chapter Text

Characters: Fourteenth Noah/Kanda, Kanda/Allen too

Warnings: The usual violence and also a little more rough handling. Slight dubious consent in place because Nea doesn’t really care if Allen wants him there or not, and yet he keeps on popping up.

Author’s Notes: The request was for "Would you be willing to try Kanda/14th|Allen? Maybe like a competition, where if Kanda can prove himself stronger than the Noah Allen will wake up?" It's very loosely followed and I hope it's all right.

Timeline is iffy (Dear Hoshino, please update as we have been left hanging for more than a year, your fans have no forgotten you) but assume Kanda’s a general now. Central is mad, but they can’t do much because Kanda is fulfilling his duties…and on the side he’s meeting Allen Walker. In secret. And they do the dirty along with some other things.

I’m pretty sorry it took me a month to get this out. RL, jobs, and illness all worked against me. I’m still under the feeling less than healthy but hopefully the stupid weather will stop effing up and it will actually be warm. Except the allergies. It’s hard to type when you keep on sneezing and your eyes water.

Therapy

They could all use some therapy.

Kanda hates doctors and even he can agree to that. Why didn’t the fucking Order have therapists or…people who managed the problems of others? Seems like with all this shit going around, it might help. Or maybe the Order did it on purpose. Left the issues as issues, because if they kicked them out, their own Innocence would work against them or they wouldn’t even survive. Even he sucked at it; he got all his money stolen thanks to his own stupidity that one time.

And only Allen, out of all them (well, in their age range, anyway), knew what the hell he was doing when he earned money. He didn’t do a shoddy job at it either. Allen looks thin because he can’t eat the way he used to, but he’s alive and kicking.

In some ways, nothing changed. They’re short on exorcists, and while they have mission after mission, at least Kanda has no apprentices. He gets paired with other exorcists, they get their jobs done, and life went on.

He still eats soba whenever he can. Comfort food. He borrows Lenalee’s hair ties, and lets her talk to him. Some days he spars with Marie. He fills his required paperwork, and sullenly looks at Lvellie whenever he has the chance. Why was that Vatican dog Howard Link out there still? Oh wait, that’s a secret.

And every few weeks, he meets with Allen. Even though Allen tells him to go away, he says he doesn’t fucking care.

He hasn’t forgotten how Johnny had his head almost bashed in. Johnny, regardless, still visits secretly on his own schedule.

And certain people would be devastated. Kanda’s just decided it’d be a hassle for deaths, so he might as well…help. So he doesn’t hold back any time he punches Allen. He’s gotten so passive about it that the expression on his face only flickers. And when they strip each other, he can peel off the stupid façade he has to put on when he’s in the Order, when he’s got this position of General, and just be his fucking self.

He’s always been honest with Allen…about certain things, anyway. And Allen is just as honest, if not more.

But there’s always that elephant in the room:

The Fourteenth.

Kanda says he’ll kill him if he can’t turn back. Allen insists he won’t let it happen. But it happens again and again, and Kanda has raised his sword so many times against him.

All right, so he caused some of the fuck ups.

He’s trying to make it right, in his own way.

But he hasn’t even fully figured out what Allen is to him. Friend, enemy, comrade, what else?

…actually, screw thinking about it. It is easier to kiss and touch and do shit then lie back and contemplate Important Life Issues.

They both run on a time limit. Some things can be figured out, but others take more than a lifetime.

It’s actually better if Kanda figured out what the hell the Fourteenth wants out of all of this.

___---|||:|||---___

The more time he spends with Allen, the more he realizes less is normal. Thin is an objective term, but has Allen’s face ever had that many sharp angles? Was he ever this pallid? True, he’s gotten taller and certain changes are expected, but the way his frame presses against Kanda’s is almost uncomfortable when they used to fit together just fine. And when they lie next to each other, in the dark, it is disturbing how in moonlight, Allen’s skin is nearly like his hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” is the first words out of his mouth after half a year of doing this. Sleeping with a traitor—take that, Black Order.

“Oh, a little of this and some of that.” Allen smiles his “why are you asking this” sort of smile. It stretches his skin and honestly, makes even Kanda sick.

“Do I have to drag your sorry ass back just to feed you before kicking you back out?”

“Are you worried about my health?”

“That’s Johnny’s job.”

“So you are worried. I’m so touched.”

Kanda wants to shove him, but if he did, Allen might fall right over. Instead, he grits his teeth and yanks this stupid sprout at the arm. “Hurry up and show me where you live right now.”

Allen pulls away. “Right this way, my good sir.”

“You can stop with the fake manners.”

“Unlike you, I happen to like having manners.” For all his running and living in questionable places, Allen remains neat, if not slightly scruffy. He ties his hair up and has a nice disarming smile. Like there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

It’s the complete opposite of ordinary.

Allen picks his way through a crowd, weaving without bumping into any people. Kanda has to shove, grunt, and glare to get through. Finally they reach a quiet street where there is only echoes of laughing children and snatches of quiet conversation. Their boots clatter against the cobblestone, and Kanda keeps an ear out. That ex-Crow is probably lingering somewhere, watching them. Tch. He’s learned to keep his distance after Kanda more or less caught him, and now he’s been practically invisible. Kanda did make a point once of standing somewhere and hurling insults until Link showed up, and they held a somewhat civil conversation.

It’s hard to disagree when it’s about the Cardinal—or rather, what he is not, and that is human. Kanda just doesn’t understand why Link tells Kanda to say nothing to Allen about his existence. As far as he knows, Allen still thinks Link’s “death” is his fault. He doesn’t even have to listen to Link.

But he doesn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

Right now, he keeps his eyes on Allen’s back until they find the inn he’s been at. Like most other rooms he’s been in, it’s sparse with its two beds, two nightstands, a chair and a table, a closet and a bathroom.

“You’re mad about something.” Allen unbuttons his coat and hangs it up. The closet door squeaks, as if to agree with him. “Well, more upset than usual, I think.”

“You think?” Kanda sits down on a chair, scraping his boots loudly against the floorboards.

“You haven’t said anything on our way here. What is it?”

“And you have the gall to ask that?” A little fed up, he waits until the other gets a little closer, before he yanks him down.

“Hey, wha—”

“Shut it.” Kanda smacks a hand over Allen’s forehead. “Like I asked before, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I’m just slightly under the weather.” Allen pulls away. “And before you can ask, yes, when Johnny visited yesterday, he knew and I’ve had to put up with him trying to feed me questionable medicine.” He scratches at his cheek. “Which I pretended to take.”

If the Order didn’t have such a bad record of strange potions, vitamins, or medicines… “Go see a doctor, then.”

Allen sighs. “That takes money, Kanda. Haven’t you learned anything during your brief time looking for me?”

“I can—”

“No. I don’t take charity. Really, I’ll be fine in a few days.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “You didn’t have to come now. I told you to wait.”

“I don’t operate on your schedule. We’re doing mine.”

“Remind me again why?”

“Because I’m an elite General and I’m not your General, and I can’t do everything I want.”

“Maybe you should learn from my Master. He dodged the Order better than I’m doing right now.” A shadow passes over his face, briefly. “Though you really are terrible at drinking.”

Kanda yanks him by the collar of his shirt, and practically throws him one of the beds. “Fuck you, shut up, and just sleep. You sound shittier when you’re sick.”

“I don’t have to listen to you, Kanda.”

“I’ll tie you down on the bed if you don’t.”

“Oooh,” Allen raises his hands. “Sorry, I’m not really into that.”

Kanda counts to five in his head. He will not hit a sick person, he will not…

“But I guess I’m tired and I could use a nap.”

“I’ll knock you out if you don’t.”

“You’re quite moody today.”

“And you need to stop arguing with me.” Kanda unbelts his sword and leans it against his leg.

“Pot, kettle—black, much?”

“Just answer one question.”

“Depends on what question.” Allen stretches and then starts removing his shoes.

“How have you been sleeping?”

Allen freezes for a split second, before he goes back to unbuckling his boots. “The usual,” he says as the boots drop with a heavy thunk.

Kanda takes a breath. “You fucking liar—”

“I am going to take a nap, and then we can talk about this.”

“…fine. But no changing the subject later.”

“Really?” Faster than Kanda’s eyes can follow, Allen pulls him in for a kiss that makes his head swim a little. He catches the taste of longing, tension, a need to forget before Allen pulls away, cheeks redder than they were before.

He shakes his heads and folds his arms, setting his mouth in a thin line. That was playing dirty, and he’s not about to let him win.

“It’s more fun to tease you when you’re angry and not serious.”

“You only think.”

“It was worth a try.” Allen shrugs and then pulls a blanket over himself. “There’s food in that bag on the table if you’re hungry. Wake me up in two hours.”

“Whatever.” Kanda glares at him until he turns over, and in mere minutes his breathing as evened out.

He waits another ten minutes before he gets up and properly rests his hand against Allen’s forehead. It’s only slightly warm, nothing too bad, but his skin is awfully translucent in some areas; he can see blue and red veins crisscrossing.

And yet it’s still better than seeing gray. He peels back one eyelid just to make sure there are no golden-colored pupils before he removes his overcoat and uniform coat and sits back down. He tells himself that Allen is not escaping this conversation.

It’s been long, long overdue.

___---|||:|||---___

The sun leaves cracks in the walls and floors, all over Allen and even on Kanda even though he keeps on moving away from it, scraping his chair. He’s slid his boots and socks off, and even nodding off a little bit. In the back of his mind, he senses Mugen, like a pulse next to his own. They beat together; if either is silenced, that’s the end. Or, it could be the other way; if he ignored Mugen, the pulse would thrum louder until it consumed him and he became a Fallen One.

Exorcists walked between two dangers: being killed by Akuma and other enemies, or being killed by the Innocence. Most of them don’t think about it, but it’s a heavy sort of presence that sinks into you when you didn’t have enough to drink, eating away at you.

Kanda looks over at Allen. And then there’s this fucking idiot, who has even more on his plate. Allen and his Innocence were quite the team, working so unconsciously well for the most part. But there’s the Noah, the one that threatens him. Innocence hates him, and even Mugen did. Allen being around them was like a trigger.

It’s a fucking mess.

That’s the only way to put it.

He sips at tepid, metallic water, and considers throwing it at Allen if not for the fact he’s more than a little under the weather. But two hours is up; he walks over to shake Allen’s shoulder. “Oi.” A sharper prod. “Get up.”

Allen makes an inaudible sound.

“I said get up.” He pulls the covers away. “You said two hours.”

“How annoying…” Allen swats his hand away. “But if you insist.” He rubs an arm over his eyes.

“We’re talking, Beansprout. So sit up already and drink some water or whatever you think helps.”

“And what if I said a good fucking would take care of things?”

“That—” He shuts his mouth; at the same time his hand flies to his sword and whips it out of its sheath.

But a hand grips his throat, almost crushing his windpipe but not quite.

“You,” he hisses out, from between clenched teeth and anger that slips through.

“Mm, yes. Me.” Allen—or rather, the Fourteenth, lazily yawns. “They say third time’s a charm. Or is it our fourth meeting? It’s sometimes hard to remember when you switch bodies. Either way—it’s been a while, hasn’t it, Kanda?”

“Let go of me.”

“No, no, not yet. I just want to savor this look on your face for a while longer.”

Kanda is lucky his bruises fade fast. He tightens his hand on his sword, for he can’t outright stab Allen. It doesn’t work, he’s found out the hard way. So instead he holds his breath and counts the seconds until he’s dropped.

He catches himself before he falls, and manages to hold the glare on his face even as he coughs and massages his throat. “Bastard.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“I don’t want to banter words with you. What do you want?”

“This body, and maybe a little more.”

“…”

“The kill the Earl, what do you think. My dear brother has been around long enough.”

“I don’t fucking understand you, nor do I want to.”

“You want Allen.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Aaah, so it’s Allen.”

“What about him?”

“He tries so hard to keep me away. Sometimes he’s not even fully aware of me. Even less these times. If he weren’t so fragile, he might keep me away. Or maybe if he didn’t stab himself with his own Innocence, all of this could’ve been avoided.” The Fourteenth stands, wavering only slightly. “Fever, chills, weakness, pain—they come and go. Sometimes he gets better, sometimes he doesn’t. We really must thank you for hastening it.”

“I don’t want your thanks.”

“I’m hardly ungracious, and neither is my host. I think you for awakening me, and he thanks you for your promise of killing him. But are you going to do it now?”

“Not even he’s still fighting you.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can tell.” There is still no stigmata. The way he’s holding on to the bed for support. Little things that say Allen’s still there, still fighting.

“Hah.” Those shoulders shake in laughter. “You’re the only alive who’s killed a Noah, and here is one standing in front of you, not as his full strength, and you refuse to kill. What irony.”

“Are we done here?”

“Done?”

“Get out of here already.”

“No, that’s not how it works. Let’s play a game, Kanda Yu.”

“I hate games.”

“I can imagine how much you hated the Ark. No matter—Noah like games, all sorts of them, and besides, this one doesn’t have to unpleasant. It can be very, very pleasant.”

He waits; he has a faint clue what “pleasant” might mean.

“Let me do as I wish with you, and if you do, I’ll let Allen back and then he can panic and be his normal self and you can continue on with your relationship.”

“And why the fuck would I do that.”

“Isn’t it because you love him?”

Kanda stares at him.

And then he laughs.

It’s absolutely loud and nothing like Kanda at all. It’s mocking, caustic, and so achingly bitter that he can taste it in his mouth and he wants to spit it out.

“You—you’re an idiot,” he finally says. Fuck, where did all this laughter come from. “Love? You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Oh.” The Fourteenth looks slightly disappointed. “Well then, what is it?”

“That’s for us to know.”

“If I give Allen back, will you tell me? You’re very intriguing.”

“That depends.”

“Ah yes, on us sleeping together. So—I fuck you, and you get Allen back, and you tell me what relationship you have with him.”

“Only if you make it worth my time, Noah.”

“I intend to.” Pale lips part in a smile.

“Tch. Get on with it.” The less he thinks about this, the better.

Plus, it’s just one night of this. For now, anyway.

“Very well—let’s begin.” The Fourteenth tilts his head. “Starting with those clothes.”

Not standing on a ceremony, Kanda does that. Shirt, pants, belt, underpants. He’s never been very body-shy to begin with.

“And your hair.”

Ah yes. The obsession many people. He yanks at the band and it all falls around his face and shoulders.

“Next?” he says sarcastically.

“This.” Lips press to his; they feel like Allen’s, but they’re not. He pushes back, angrily. Can you taste that, Noah? His resentment, the hate, the hidden insults…

Teeth tug on his lower lip, threatening to break skin. “I didn’t know why I thought you’d be a terrible kisser,” he says when he pulls back, drawing his tongue over his mouth. “But that was quite good.”

Kanda’s already tired of this, but he says nothing. The faster this was over, the better.

There’s a hungry sort of look in the Fourteenth’s eyes. It’s odd on Allen’s features. “I think introductions are over, though.”

He’s tackled and shoved into the wall, pinned there by a pair of hands that are strong than they appear. A mouth tightly sealed for his, and narrow hips that grind against him. He shoves back, and swallows harshly. Fingernails scratch at him, and he claws back. Someone in the next room thumps against the wall yelling at them to shut up.

He finds himself dragged to the bed and pushed down. He can only take a breath before they are again kissing, and hands are touching his body. They pinch and squeeze, nothing gentle. Something firm presses against his slowly growing erection. The friction of fabric, rubbing insistently, wants him to jerk his hips up.

The Noah says something, but it’s lost in their harsh breathing. Kanda tangles his hands in white hair, tugging carelessly. In return, his nipples are sucked and bitten, pinched and massaged and it sends obvious shivers through him. Something about all this is old to him, things that he’s done before. But the different colored eyes and skin, it all reminds him it’s not Allen.

It’s not Allen who slowly stripes and then brings his hands over his body, stroking himself and sighing. It’s not Allen’s mouth that roams his chest and then dips down to suck him until he writhes in impatience. It’s not Allen’s hands that turn him over and thrusts fingers into entrance. It’s not Allen’s voice that coaxes at him and slowly pushes him toward the edge.

As he fucks himself on three fingers while another hand palms his balls and squeezes them, and his breaths are erratic and his pulse racing, he catches himself thinking about the differences.

When Allen’s—no, the Fourteeth’s—cock bumps against him, he shoves hard and twists. They fall in a tangle of limbs and curses.

“This wasn’t in our agreement.”

“I’ll make it fit.” Kanda pins him down and straddles his waist. “But if you’re going to fuck me, at least have the decency to look me in the eye and do it.”

Actually, he hates it from behind most of the time. He’s done it…oh, maybe twice with Allen and never cared for it. Allen doesn’t mind it, but Kanda does know his preferred position when he’s the one inside Kanda.

It’s this one. The one in which Kanda is on top and how he positions himself and then slowly sits down. Which he does now, his hands digging into shoulders. He bends sharply forward to bite down on the collarbone, leaving a mark behind.

“Picky,” the Fourteenth gasps out. “But I like that. I really do.” He thrusts upwards; Kanda hadn’t expected that and his breathing hitches.

Heated fingers grasps his erection, fondling it from tip to base. He rocks back and forth, still gripping those shoulders. They keept their eyes on each other, and something about the intensity in those gold-yellow eyes is supposed to scare him. Taunt him. But he squares his jaw and stares just as evenly back, eyes almost black. Every move brushes against that small area that sends tingles up his back and down his chest. He breathes in air as deeply as can when the fingers touch his perineum and he almost came instantly.

Except the Fourteenth beats him to it. He moans, a dragged out sound, different from what Allen does. His knees snap up while his hips jerk in their last throes of pleasure. Kanda rolls his hips once more before it rises in him and he climaxes, half from humping and half from the cock bumping into him.

A minute goes by, spent in silence. Kanda counted it.

“So. What was it?” He hasn’t pulled out.

Kanda lifts a shoulder. “Hate. That’s how our relationship’s always been.”

The Fourteenth’s pupils seem to dilate, before he smiles. “So if Allen disappears, will our relationship be like that?”

His reply is swift. “As if. If he’s gone, I’ll be killing you then and there. It’s not like you haven’t died before.”

“I’m glad we can speak the truth.” The Noah yawns and stretches out his arms. “Before you kill me, anyway.”

“Are we finished here?”

“Hmmm…” A slow blink. “I suppose you can have your little sprout back.” Only a Noah could wave a hand like that, while his cock is still in another person. “We’ll meet again.”

It’s quite strange, watching the instantaneous transformation. Gray to normal skin color, yellow to gray eyes. Except Allen seems still caught in unconsciousness. He seems to look at Kanda without really seeing him, before his eyes roll back and he sags.

Kanda pulls away immediately to check his vitals. Pulse, breathing patterns—slightly elevated, but nothing threatening. He cleans him up the best he can, but pauses at the lingering fever.

It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it.

___---|||:|||---___

He’s terrible at taking care of sick people. Beyond slapping a cold cloth in his face, what else was there he could do? Soon the floor is littered with scraps of the towel that he ripped up to keep dipping into water.

He waits. Hours pass. He nibbles on bread, and when it’s dark, he lights a candle. Sometime after fice in the morning, Allen stirs.

“Kanda?”

“Here.”

“…something happened.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’ve got a mark on your neck.”

“So? You’ve got them so.”

Allen yanks the blankets down, and pales. “Please don’t tell me you just slept with someone who wasn’t me but likes to steal my body.”

“What difference does it make?”

“You let him.”

“What, did you think I would let him force himself on me?”

“That’s not what I bloody fucking meant!” Allen glares at him. “You—he—”

“I rid of him. He was being annoying and let him fuck me shut him up and he went away.” Kanda wishes he could get a drink. “So be happy.”

“How can I be happy when my head hurts and nearly everything else hurts, and when he pulled this on me again and—” A pause. “And he did this to people I care about.” He puts his head in his hands, hands over his face.

Kanda sucks at taking care of the sick, but what he’s worst at is comforting people. Even after since Allen cry so many times, it hasn’t help him improve himself.

Still, there’s always something painful to see when Allen cries. It’s like Lenalee crying—he doesn’t like to see it.

When strong people cry, it leaves you wondering and worrying about them, that they’re trying to hold themselves together but really failing at it.

He finally gets up and sits on the bed. He says nothing, but he roughly pulls Allen against himself. That’s what people did, right? He can virtually count the number of people he’s actually held. Alma. Lenalee. Maybe Tiedoll, once. Marie. And Allen. People he’s held (he is not counting people who have held him because he refuses to). People that really, really mattered.

“Are you just jealous that he got me instead of you?”

Allen shoves at him and flips him off. “As if.”

“I said that same thing to him.”

“He asked about that?”

“Maybe you should trying having a conversation with him. Get some fucking facts into his head.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know the next him he visits.”

Kanda snorts.

They stay curled up next to each other, watching as the shadows start to fade when the sun begins to rise. Kanda even remembers to yank a blanket over them.

Is this the way life is supposed to be? Probably not. Fucking Noahs and Cardinals and other things have messed things up. Before he met Allen, he was going about his life killing Akuma, meditating, eating soba, trying not to kill Lavi…and so on. This stupid beansprout upset the balance of everything.

And Kanda hated it at first.

But can you really hate someone like Allen, someone who wears half his heart on his sleeve and closes off the other half? He’s a puzzle, one that Kanda’s grappled with for so long and only finally began to understand better.

It’s still frustrating, but along the way he discovers things, for the better. Plus, he owes something to Allen, which he still hasn’t repaid but intends to.

And if that means feeling ridiculous because he’s holding Allen and actually worrying about him, so be it.

Maybe they won’t get real therapy, not ever. Too many fucked up moments and messes that can’t be fixed by any other people than themselves. Maybe…they’re each other’s therapy.

“…Kanda?”

“Hn?”

“…I was going to ask why my towels in shreds, but I’m not going to.”

“Don’t even.”

“I won’t, Jerkanda.”

“You better not, Beansprout.”

At the very least, they’re still on good-natured insulting terms.

Author’s Notes: Next is the ot3 Kanda/Lavi/Lenalee, and after that requests will be open again. Next fic is called “Downpour,” is complete, and will be posted tomorrow. I wrote it alongside with “Therapy” because there’s only so much angst I can write.

Chapter Text

Characters: Kanda/Lavi/Lenalee

Warnings: Polyamory, established relationship…sex outside. Double penetration, blowjobs, etc.

Author’s Notes: Lenalee is the mastermind of any relationship she’s in. I’m sure of it.

Downpour

Tonight, it was like cotton. A wave of humidity had swept over the area and left tempers running hot. Think of it as living in a sauna, while you sweated and yet your mouth was thick like you’d been eating fabric all day. The electricity’s also suffered a blow and they’ve considered moving everything into the Ark until this blew over. But who knows just how stable the Ark is. Allen argued long and hard against it and only after he was backed up did they compromise. Important equipment and scientists, medical supplies, the cooks—they were all moved to the Ark temporarily. Everyone else was told to “put up with it.”

Lenalee can put up with a lot of things, but this is pushing her limits. She tries to sleep, but wakes up drenched in sweat and sticky sheets. She’s stripped down to a thin nightshift and underwear, but it still clings annoyingly to her skin. Her hair is short and yet she envies Noise Marie, as strands stick disgustingly to her neck and face.

This is awful.

She ends up dragging Lavi to her room one night, to complain about this. He’s shirtless (and she is jealous of him) and in boxers, and not as disturbed by the heat.

“How do you stand it?”

“Mm, ’cause this isn’t as bad as some of the places I’ve been in. The Sahara’s worse. Or the Amazon. You’ve ever been to some part in Asia? This isn’t the worst. It’s just bad ’cause they’re taking a million years to fix the cooling.”

She’d lean against him, but the thought of skin against skin stickily touching made her inwardly recoil. “Have any ideas until everything cools down?”

“One or two.”

“Do any of them involve cold baths?”

“You know we’re trying to save the water because right now, it’s nearly pointless to bath.” The sweat would just return.

“I know, I know.” She’s thankfully she emits little body odor from all of this; genetics, thank goodness. Lavi himself isn’t too bad; she’s used to his scent and more often than not, he carries the scent of ink and books on his body. “I just. Hate this. All I’m doing it sitting and talking to you, and I feel as if I have been on thirty missions.”

“It’s going to rain tomorrow tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Nice, cool rain that ought to clear up this humidity. How about it—we sit outside in the rain and get cooled off. Also,” he shifts to whisper in her ear. “I know a good rooftop where we won’t be disturbed.”

“…what are you implying.”

“Lenalady, I think you know.” He curls his fingers against hers, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

…well, it’s been a few weeks. This abominable heat left her in no position to want intimate relations (besides ew oh God bodies touching and sweat making them all sticky), but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about them, wanting them.

She kicks his knee. “Lavi!”

“Yu said yes.”

“…he did not.”

“Did, too. He’s up for it.” Lavi winks lazily at her, stretches, and then gets up. “I have to get back and get a ton of a stuff done so that Gramps asks no questions tomorrow, but just keep your mind on that. Good things come to those who wait.”

She lies down and closes her eyes. “We’ll be in public, Lavi.” That’s not really a complaint; the thought is actually agreeing with her mind, tingling down her spine.

He snorts. “At night. On a roof. Unless there is a bird large enough for people to ride on, or someone with a hammer like me, or anyone who can fly like you, there’s no chance of them catching us.”

The door closes behind him. “Sweet dreams, Lena,” she hears him say.

She lies down and tries her best to sleep, and ends up wishing she had an ice pack.

___---|||:|||---___

There’s a beautiful view; Lavi knows his spots. There’s even some wind at this altitude and it leaves her feeling marginally cooler. She’s wearing the lightest shirt she can find, along with very short shorts. She goes barefoot because it’s too hot for any sort of shoes. Kanda is there first; he sits with his back against a wall, hair messily tied in a bun that leaves his neck bare. “Took you long enough,” he grunts as Lavi puts his hammer away and Lenalee deactivates her boots.

“Don’t be so fussy.” Lenalee sits next to him and bumps his shoulder. “We’re here.”

“Hey, you got a nice look at this splendid sunset covered by clouds.” Lavi sits on the other side of Kanda and kicks off his shoes. “Didn’t you, Yu?”

“Shut up.”

“Be more agreeable, would you? You said yes to this.”

“I didn’t say yes to ‘annoy me until the sun sets’, idiot rabbit.”

“Shhh.” Lenalee stretches her legs out. “You’re ruining the mood, both of you.” Bickering boys, all of them (and Allen included).

There was quiet for maybe fifteen minutes as the sun went down and the skies turned from pink, purple and orange to deep blue. Thick clouds rolled in, brought by the wind that tickles her face.

Lavi spreads his arms. “Feeling better?”

“Much!” She grins as wide as she can. “Much better.” When she stands, the wind tugs at her, and she suddenly is struck by a flash of inspiration.

It’s a Lavi-thought. She’s what she calls her crazy, odd thoughts that were so bad they were in actuality really, really good.

She puts her hands out, stands, and spins on a foot. “Lavi?”

“Mhm?” The redhead yawns.

“When does it start raining?”

“Maybe in ten minutes. Fifteen?” He glances at the clouds and squints. “Soon, anyway.”

“Close your eyes. You too, Kanda.”

Lavi tilts his head. “You had a surprise or something?”

“Something.” She pushes at him. “Eyes, closed.”

Kanda looks as if he’s meditating; he obliges without saying much. In fact, he’s not saying all that much this evening.

She slips out of clothes, as quietly as she can.

Yes, you heard right. Top, bottom, underclothes—she arranges them neatly before she activates her Boots with a whisper and a flare of bright green. They pulse in tandem to her heartbeat, tingling through her bare skin and as she breathes; the air around her is charge.

“You—you can open your eyes.” Her words come out in a rush, from the excitement.

It’s worth the looks she gets.

Lavi’s mouth is open, and she’s never seen Kanda’s eyes this big.

“Lena, what are you—” he starts. “For Christ’s sake, we’re outside!”

“So? No one’s here.”

“Oh damn, damn, damn,” Lavi whispers, cheeks aflame. He has no complaints whatsoever.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Kanda takes a step forward, but Lenalee easily leaps away.

She’s in the air.

Just her and her Innocence.

This is something she hadn’t known she wanted. Her laughter is carried by the wind as she backflips and circles around them.

“Fuck! What if someone sees you!” Kanda slaps his palm against the railing. “You get down here, or—”

“Or what?” Lenalee comes up to him, and pokes a finger against his chest. “What are you going to do to me that you already haven’t done with me before?”

Lavi-thoughts and Lavi-words. But recently, she’s come to admit it’s freeing to say things like that, just for the reactions of people like Kanda.

“Yu, we’re miles away from people. Unless anyone looks up, they don’t see her. And besides, everyone’s inside ’cause of the heat.” Lavi rests his arm on Kanda’s shoulder. “Enjoy the view while you can.”

Kanda’s throat works but there are no words, but he doesn’t really seem to be pushing for his opinion.

Lavi whispers something to him, and Kanda instantly reaches for him. The other exorcist tears away, laughing.

“Kanda—”

“Don’t worry about me, Lenalady!” he yells at her as he tugs his shirt off and tosses it away. “He’s just jealous you can fly and catch all the nice breezes up there. And besides—” He leans over the railing to call out at her. “You look better than the sunset.”

Whatever else he was going to yell at her is cut short; Kanda has caught him and they’re wrestling.

Lenalee sighs and leaves them be; she pushes herself higher and marvels at how the wind slides against her skin with far less friction than if she were clothed. Her increase her speed, lifting higher until the air actually grows colder.

Moisture clings to her, but it’s no longer disgusting to touch. It’s cool; her skin tingles and by now the sky has gotten quite dark. She can make out far below her the forms of Kanda and Lavi, tangled together because of their wild movements and the one light that’s on a corner of the roof.

A raindrop splashes against her shoulder; then another on her hand. More raindrops falls against her, and slowly they pick up speed and grow in number until she is awash in wet. It’s a good wet. Laughter bursts out of her as she spins with the rain. She runs her hands over her body and marvels at how nice it feels. Dimly, she can hear someone call her name, and she knows she had to head down. She doesn’t want to; she’s born for the skies, and even though this Innocence, this power that is meant for fighting and without it, she’d be normal, she likes to fly. She loves the freedom it yields in movement, and the speed it offers. Innocence has an agreement with her; it is not her master. Neither is she fully its master. They fight as one and during her down times, she loves how she can do things like this.

Reluctantly, she descends. Lenalee falls with the raindrops, hands lifted in the air as she allows herself to freefall and tumble in the air until a certain distance. Then she turns and lands firmly on both feet, knees bending from the impact.

She raises her eyes, and Lavi is there, catching her in a kiss. Damp hair tickles her face; she kisses back, tasting his familiar scent mixed in with the rain.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She bumps noses with him.

“You looked damn good up there.”

“Thank you.” But she looks over at Kanda. “Stop sulking.”

“Tch. I’m not.”

His arms are folded and his posture is stiff. “You are.”

He makes another annoyed sound.

“Yu, just—just get over here already.” Lavi waves at him. “Get over here and kiss the both of us already.”

“You’re so annoying, rabbit.” But Kanda moves, fluidly and silently like he tends to do. He lifts Lenalee up from her kneeling stance with a hand against hers, and then he brings his lips into contact with hers.

“Mm.” His tongue pushes against her mouth, firmly. She returns the gesture, wrapping her arms around him. He pulls her close, and through damp clothing something presses against her stomach.

Lenalee tears at his shirt, shoving it up until she can feel skin and the muscles underneath it all. He yanks it off and his tongue licks over her throat as he shoves her against something solid…and warm. When another tongue dips against her ear, she knows that it is Lavi, holding her up. Kanda is dropping his pants and belt with just one hand. She squirms between them, and listens to the sharp intakes of breaths.

Then Lavi loses his balance and they tumble down. Her heels clack sharply.

“Lav—” she starts, alarmed he might’ve hit his head.

“I’m fine.” He nuzzles her neck. “Perfectly fine. But maybe Yu needs to lose a few pounds, eh?”

“One more word out of you, and I’ll cut you.”

“Kanda.” She presses the palm of her hand over his cock and he unconsciously bucks against her. “Let it be.”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he rubs his thumbs over her breasts and his exhalation against her skin is hot.

She remembers that her Innocence is still activated, but just before she can say anything, Lavi runs a hand down her leg.

“Leave them.” At her questioning look, he lifts his shoulder in a sheepish shrug. “I like them on you…”

Does he, now. She files that memory away for later.

There’s some fumbling behind her as Lavi shinnies out of the rest of his clothes and kicks them away. He presses his body against hers, rocking slightly. The rain that slips between the crevices their bodies make is warmed by their combined heat, and he dips his fingers between her legs. At the same time, Kanda massages her breasts. She is caught between them pushing back one second and arching forwards the next. Her lungs drag air and she moans, the pitter-pattering of drops not enough to mask the sound she let out. They knew her too well. Her fingers scrabble, but she finds their erections easily enough and squeezes them both.

Kanda sucks at her lower lip, while Lavi clings to her harder.

She knows them both just as well. Kanda likes it when fingers stroke the tip of his cock, and Lavi can be undone with pressure to the base. Fluttering breaths and wandering hands. And the good thing about being up here is that they can be as loud as they want without anyone overhearing. The Order has good room insulation, but it’s not perfect.

Lavi certainly isn’t bothering to hide his pleasure. When he wants to, he can talk very well, with how he’s telling Lenalee how pretty she looks and how raindrops against her skin is better than shower water is.

…maybe not as well as he really wants. But she’s used to it and she likes the sound of his voice. Whatever ridiculous metaphors he is making is lost as she listens to how deep his voice gets, how it warms her body. Kanda, though, tends to make little sounds. But he does moan and sigh, and the way he closes his eyes and breathes is something she likes to see.

The fingers against her entrance are slick, from her and from the rain. She manages to stop Lavi before she can climax, and she rubs against his erection.

“Are you sure you don’t want to…well, go first?”

She shakes her head. “I want the both of you there when I do.”

“We haven’t—” Kanda begins. “Lena.”

“It’ll be fine.” She catches his gaze, letting him see the want in her eyes.

Lavi enters her slowly, easing himself in. Lenalee pulls her legs up and leans back until he is fully inside and they are slightly short of breath. Kanda goes, even slowly than Lavi moves and she almost wants to tell him to hurry about.

There’s some pain; mostly an odd burning sensation that makes her brow furrow and her toes curl, but nothing too bad. When he’s in and his hands her against her thighs, she rolls her hips.

Both of them react instantaneously. Lavi says something in Chinese while Kanda shudders. Lenalee allows herself to go limp and lie against Lavi, head on his shoulder.

She doesn’t have to move. Why? Because, when Kanda and Lavi start moving, they do all the work for her. She curls her fingers against Lavi’s chin and her teeth set against Kanda’s shoulder as they slide in and out of her. They finally pick up the pace until she is crying out both their names. The sensation of being filled, as rain spills against her skin, is an overwhelming one.

She’s probably leaving marks on their skin when she finally reaches her limit, but hopefully not enough to bleed. Her Boots are still on her feet, keeping time with her racing heart.

Lavi gasps and jerks; she feels him releasing. Kanda isn’t quite there yet, but he pulls out before Lenalee can tell him it’s fine. He pulls her back to lie with him against the cool ground, her cheek against his chest and his arm draped over her shoulder.

“Kanda!” she protests.

“Sh.”

“I lost a fight,” Lavi says, kneeling in front of Kanda. “I just didn’t have a chance to give him a reward because it started raining and you came back down.” Without much flourish, he puts his mouth over Kanda’s erection and bobs his head.

From this position, Lenalee can feel Kanda’s heard and hear how he breathes. His arm is tight and his body is taut, as if it were being wound up. The soft sounds that Lavi makes are still quite audible, and she can sense every little jerk of Kanda’s hips.

If she weren’t already spent, it’d arouse her very much. For now, it’s simply satisfying to hear the little gasps that Kanda makes, the sounds that he doesn’t let anyone except them hear or enjoy. It’s also quite nice to see him come, with a pleased grunt and how his knees press together as Lavi finishes him.

She brushes at the water droplets that have collect on his skin, and flings them away from his long eyelashes. Lavi pulls himself up to lie next to her, his inhaling deep.

“I have great ideas.”

Lenalee tangles their fingers together. “Not always, but this one is. I’d do it again.”

“Same. What about you, Yu?”

Kanda lifts his head. “I’ll think about it.”

She hides her smile. That pretty much meant yes.

___-—|||:|||—-___

They lay side-by-side as it rained, bodies firmly tucked and arms linked. Lenalee opens her mouth and catches the drops, and breathes in the fresh air. The previous heat is now gone, tucked away in memories. Instead, goosebumps stand out on her arms.

“We should get back down before we catch colds,” she says, licking her lips.

Kanda makes a sound; he seems half asleep. Lavi rolls over to push her hair out of her face and kiss the raindrops from her lips and cheeks.

Neither of which helped. She could almost sleep too, but sensibility remains. Ten minutes of coaxing, and they finally do put on their drenched clothes and go down. Kanda no longer refuses Lavi’s help, and Lenalee rides on his back.

They must be quite the picture, thoroughly soaked and dripping on the…well, really nicely waxed floors. She ought to feel sorry about it, but she can’t muster it. Lenalee wipes at her face, still slightly giddy. Something about rain and dancing in it—that’s an experience she wants, over and over. She doesn’t even really feel cold, and neither is it hot even through the air conditioning is still off.

‘We have to do this again,” she says softly.

“With the way it puts stars in your eyes? Yeah.” Lavi shakes his head and sends droplets flying. Damp as he is, there is nothing watery or liquid about his smile.

“At least I’m not dying of heat,” Kanda mutters. He’s trying to wring his hair out. “But it was still risky, flying.”

“Oh c’mon, Yu—no one saw us.”

“Tch.”

“Admit it—you liked it.” Lavi elbows Kanda.

“Touch me again, you die.”

Lenalee intervenes. “Kanda, I saw you. You were looking at me, too.”

“…”

Were his cheeks pink? Yes. Lavi sniggers.

“Couldn’t take his eyes off you, that’s what~”

She giggles. “There’s always a next time.”

“Fuc—”

“IS SOMEONE SWEARING IN FRONT OF MY LENALEE?”

They freeze just as they round the corner, for Komui comes flying through the air. Kanda and Lavi hastily sidestep while Lenalee waves her hand.

“Brother. Please,” she says in a sort of strangled way. “Boys will be boys. Everyone swears.”

Komui flings himself down in front of her. “But your purity! And and—” he looks up. “Why are all of you soaked?”

“—Ah.” Lenalee smoothes her hair down. “We were out in the rain.” Thankfully, she is dressed all in black, as are Kanda and Lavi.

Lavi cuts in. “It was too hot so we went up on the roof,” he says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “And then it rained and we were caught in it.”

“All of you are going to catch colds! I should’ve sent one of my robots to fetch all of you.” Komui looks far too distressed. “Maybe we really ought to put cameras up on the —”

“Robots, Brother?”

“…” Komui flashes a grin. “We’ll talk in the morning, Lenalee dear.”

“You—” But he’s already gone.

“Nice thinking, bringing up the robots,” Lavi says softly. “Maybe he’ll forget the cameras.”

“I hope he does.” It would be unfortunate if he actually did it and then they’d have to find somewhere else to go. “I’ll make a point of destroying his newest robot tomorrow.”

“Have you ever asked him why he makes them?”

“…Daisya.” Kanda combs his hair with his fingers.

“What did he—”

“He asked me out on a date, and then my brother suddenly realized I was a very pretty girl who needed ‘protection.’ That was one reason. The other reason was because he’s sure one day he’ll invent a robot to kill Akuma. He…he means well.” Her steps slow down. “And none of us are ever really mad at him for the robots. It gives everyone a good laugh and I guess some stress relief from destroying them.”

Lavi holds her hand, and Kanda, after a moment, does the same. She tightens her fingers as they match their strides.

“Did you ever think of…telling him?” Lavi asks when they reach her room to dry themselves off.

She shakes her head. “I have no idea how to.” She really doesn’t. A relationship with one person, but two? “He might take it badly. Or he might take well, because I know he loves me.”

“The point is the both of you care too much for the other.” Kanda tosses his towel down. “That’s why he’s got a sister complex, and that’s why you put yourself out on a limb and try so hard.”

“I know that!” Lenalee bites her lip. “I know.”

Family love is her weakness, as if Komui’s. They’re both fiercely protective to the point of sacrifice.

“It’s not a bad thing.” In a rare show of affection, Kanda slides his finger down her face and tips her chin up to trap her lips in a soft kiss. His eyes are always a little intense and they tend to strike a chord in her. “But we’re going to see you and your idiot brother through this fucking war.”

“Count me in on that, too,” Lavi says as he comes up behind her and tucks his arms around her waist. “Don’t think you’re alone in all of this.”

Outside, it still rains, not slowing or letting up anytime soon. She breathes and closes her eyes, and remembers their time on the roof, just the three of them.

“Yeah.”

They’d make it through, all of them.

Author’s Notes: You know you wanted to see Lenalee flying with only her Innocence and nothing else on. Also, sex in those boots is something I’m sure Lavi likes. Kudos to people with the same thinking. And Kanda likes them too. He’s just not as crazy about sex outside because he’s not daring like that. Hopefully Lenalee works on him and cures him of it.

With this fic, requests are filled! (yes I know there was supposed to be a Cross/Lenalee, but they technically didn’t ask on either Tumblr or AO3, and I am hard-pressed to write it, so it’s been postponed until further notice until I can find the inspiration for it.) So now requests are open again for FIVE slots, so as long as they fit the guidelines in the first chapter. Request away. Just a warning I’ll still be slightly slow for some time.

Chapter Text

Characters: Lavi/Kanda/Allen

Warnings: Drunken threesome sex. Slight bondage. I don’t win points for original plots…

Author’s Notes: This is a combination of two requests. One wanted Lavi/Kanda/Allen, with the kinks up to me. The other one was sort of late but because of weird timing there is this combination. They wanted uke!Allen. Now, I’m terrible at uke!Allen. In fact, I sort of dislike set seme/uke roles because I feel like they’re extremely switchable roles. Allen? Definitely both. He’s a devil at cards and I think he plays to advantages. Whatever it takes to win, even if it means pretending to lose some in order to gain greater.

The only thing I didn’t follow in the request was double penetration because I think I’m pretty awful at writing it…and because I did it in a previous OT3 request. Change of pace. Double penetration I can now say is not really a kink of mine, but I’ll write it because it doesn’t exactly turn me off. So, sorry—no DP. Maybe next time I’ll feel up to it.

So, uke-ish Allen, but with a twist. Definitely more of a PWP. Hope you enjoy it.

Liar

Kanda is singing.

Or at least, he’s trying to. Lavi is on the floor, holding his stomach and attempting to laugh and breathe. Allen’s face is red from the effort of NOT laughing and he’s biting a knuckle while tears are in his eyes.

Actually, Kanda doesn’t have a bad voice. Far from it—it’s just that he doesn’t remember the words, and every time he messes up, he swears. Moreover, this song has five verses and he is only on verse two.

If you haven’t guessed it yet, they’ve been drinking. Shot glasses litter the table and floor. Some sort of vacation and Komui kicked them out to keep them away from his Lenalee. So they’re in a sort of questionable hotel in Germany, where Lavi bought a bottle of scotch and dared Kanda and Allen to do shots.

Who won? No one remembers anymore. They’re all sloshed and that’s why Kanda is singing.

…except he just tripped over his own feet and fallen. “Fuck.”

“Yu,” Lavi wheezes, crawling over to him. “You’ve said ‘fuck’ at least fifty times already.”

“Don’t care.”

“Mhm. Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I’ll fuck everything if I want to…no, wait.” Kanda rolls onto his back, scrunching his face. “I’ll say fuck to everything if I want.”

“Either one works fine~” Lavi flops his head onto Kanda’s chest.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“But it’s comfyyyy.”

“…the gutter?”

“No, you.”

“I told you—”

“You, the pronoun. But you are Yu, too…”

“Shut up.” Kanda thunks the back of head against the floor, and shoves Lavi off. “Too hot,” he mumbles.

“Then take your shirt off.”

“Don’t wanna.” Oh dear, he’s slurring.

“But you said it’s hot!”

“Don’t touch me.”

“But see, my hands are cold.” Lavi bumps his head against Kanda’s side, and shoves his hands up underneath Kanda’s shirt. “I’m not lying!”

“Idiot, I told you not to touch me.”

“But I like touching you…”

“Tch.”

Allen watches them with half-closed eyes, chin on the table and arms slack. For once, he and Kanda aren’t going at it. As he watches Lavi play with Kanda’s hair and then Lavi’s hair gets yanked, it’s rather ridiculous and that’s probably what he and Kanda look like.

Lenalee really needs to be here. They did stupid things without her around…

Such as Lavi sitting on Kanda and finally yanking his shirt off. Kanda doesn’t really seem to be protesting all that much; his face is flushed and as much as he is cursing, he seems relieved he no longer has a shirt.

“Isn’t that better, Yu?”

“At least make it fair.”

“All right, all right.” Lavi pulls his own shirt over his head, and then flips his hair out of his face. “Better?”

“Now get off me.”

“Whhhhhy.”

“’Cause I said so, rabbit.” Kanda shoves the redhead, who doesn’t budge. Lavi’s taller and heavier than him. Under normal circumstances, Lavi would already be kicked halfway across the room, but these aren’t normal circumstances at all.

They’re drunk. Very drunk. And with some minds in the gutter and still others slowly being yanked in that direction.

Lavi scoots a little lower, dragging his fingers with him. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll make sure you’re damn uncomfortable tomorrow morning.”

“Oooh~” He rolls his hips. “Are you sure it’s me and not you?”

“No shit.”

Lavi’s hand wanders to rest against a hipbone. “Still sure?”

Kanda snorts, and then he suddenly reaches for Lavi.

“Wait!” Lavi bats him away. “How about we mess with the beansprout instead? He’s been too comfortable, sitting there watch us.”

Allen sputters. “Hey, I’m just—”

“Doesn’t he, Yu?”

“…”

“oh fuck,” Allen breathes out, and then he shoots out of his seat. But drunk or not drunk, Kanda can still move quite fast when he wants to, and he has Allen pinned down.

“Let go of me, you stupid sword-swinging—”

“Just be quiet, beansprout.”

“I don’t want to be!”

“You’re going to have to!”

Allen struggles and manages to punch Kanda in the shoulder. “Or else?”

“Or else Lavi’s going to—”

“To what? I th—”

Lavi grips his chin and kisses him. There, silence. Allen even stops moving as his eyes widen.

“Mhm, you taste better than usual. I think the alcohol brings something out.” The redhead curls a lip. “Makes me wonder how the rest of you tastes.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Yeah, why not.” Lavi tugs at the collar of his shirt. “Only if you want.”

Allen hesitates for only a second before he smirks. “It’ll make Kanda jealous.”

“Like hell if I’m going to sit back and, and—” Kanda blinks. “And just watch the two of you.”

It takes a moment of effort to not laugh; Allen coughs and Lavi clears his throat. Kanda usually does not have a problem with words. To see him forget how to talk is truly a rare sight.

“…jealous?”

“No! It’s just not fair if it’s…only two.”

“Will you stop complaining if I said I’ll suck you off?”

As a matter of fact, yes. This must be one of the few times Kanda is agreeable. He even agrees to suck Lavi off. This isn’t too hard to manuever, even while they’re falling over each other. Allen pulls his pants down, and Lavi and Kanda follow likewise. When Lavi closes his mouth over him he sighs and bucks his hips a little. With his hands he tugs Kanda towards him until he can reach Kanda’s cock, and then Kanda finds Lavi.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“You do taste better.”

Allen rolls his eyes. “Kanda doesn’t.”

“What is that supposed to—” he cuts himself off when Allen squeezes his erection.

“You’re not going to last long, Kanda~”

“Tch.”

“Is this a contest?”

“Hah, maybe.”

Lavi cheats by rubbing his fingers against Allen’s entrance, but Allen knows things with his tongue that makes Kanda jerk and squirm, and even moan. Lavi has to put his knees together as the vibrations travel through him.

Allen tucks a finger against a testicle, gently scraping his fingernail against the skin. He feels Kanda’s body tense, and then his mouth is filled with come that he swallows.

“You—” Kanda pulls away, eyes dark. “Fucking beansprout!”

“I warned you!” Allen puts a hand up. “Said you wouldn’t last long.”

Kanda’s fingers twitch; drunk or no, he looks as if he might reach for his sword.

“Seriously?” Allen nudges Lavi away, and strips off his clothing. He yanks Kanda by the hair, and then kisses him, so abruptly that their teeth bump against each other, and he tastes blood from his lip. Kanda reacts by digging fingernails into his neck and shoving a knee between Allen’s legs.

“I won’t kill if you if you let me fuck you senseless.”

“Don’t you have to recover?”

“Tch.” He shakes his bangs out of his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have my way with you.”

“I’d prefer it on the bed, at least.”

So Kanda throws him across the bed.

“Yu, at least make sure he doesn’t hit his head…”

“M’fine, Lavi.” Allen sits up, and smiles in that way that makes Lavi’s knees weak. “Kanda’s aim is terrible right now.”

Kanda staggers over to the bed, yanking his belt off. “Really?” He snags a pair of wrists, one pale and one dark, and with a few clicks, has Allen tied to the bedpost. “Something about my aim?”

“Okay.” Allen yanks a little at the belt. “Point taken. Now what?”

“How about I take over?” Lavi flops down on the bed. “Until—” he gestures. “You get that back up.”

Allen wisely keeps from laughing. There’s only so much you can tease Kanda before he snaps. Lavi sheds his pants and goes hunting in his suitcase for the bottle they’re all familiar with.

“I’ll have him begging and saying your name in no time, Yu~”

“Don’t call me that, you stupid rabbit.”

Lavi merely grins cheekily. “Just watch.”

Allen’s hands curl as Lavi resumes sucking on him, only this time with the insertion of a finger. He sighs, legs spreading. Lavi’s as good as his word, tongue teasing over the glans of his cock, with just the slight pressure of teeth. Fingers stroke his base, and still other fingers find his prostate and slowly tease at him until he’s restlessly shifting his legs.

“Feel good?”

“Like you need to ask?” Allen licks his lips and swallows. Sweat beads his face and body; Lavi leans upward to suck a nipple before running his tongue down the expanse of chest, abdomen, and groin. “Aaah,” he sighs out.

The redhead has three fingers in hm. “You liked that.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Aren’t you awfully stiff?”

Lavi smirks. “Are you offering?”

“I think—” Allen’s breathing hitches as one finger presses against the area between his entrance and balls. “I think you’re so hard, I could get you off by just licking. No sucking.”

“Shall we test it out? Kanda’s getting antsy over there.”

“Only if he’s ready.”

“Tch.” Kanda shoves Lavi to the side. “Don’t scream, Beansprout.”

“As if.” Allen sucks in his breath. “You just wish.”

Kanda thrusts hard against him; Allen merely bites down on his lip, but doesn't make much sound. Lavi did a good job at preparing.

“How’s that?”

“How about you move before I think about anything else?”

The dark-haired exorcist does just that. He grips Allen’s hips and pumps himself back and forth. Lavi straddles Allen’s chest, cock glistening.

“I’m not too heavy, am I?”

Allen shakes his head. “I’d complain if you were. Now—get over here.”

Lavi inches himself forward, and the white-haired exorcist trails his tongue down the side of his length. Lavi shuts his eyes and leans his head back as he forces himself not to move.

Allen is having a hard time not moving as well; Kanda set a hard, fast pace that leave him breathless and his toes curling. Allen squeezes his entrance, and catches Kanda’s startled glance.

Oh yes, he can do that. Tonguing Lavi, with Kanda inside of him, he’s far from helpless. Even though he makes his pleasure know with soft gasps and bound like this, he messing with him. Kanda thrusts faster, hitting that spot inside Allen over and over. But it’s Lavi who comes first this time, stuttering Allen’s name as his come splashes over Allen’s face and drips down his chin. He manages to roll off before his head hits the head, utterly spent. Allen’s next, his back arching as he cries out and climaxes. His shuddering sets off Kanda, who moans and bucks his hips erratically until he’s spilled himself fully.

It’s Lavi who remembers to untie Allen. The other murmurs a thanks and then rubs a hand over his face.

“…oh, sorry.”

“Don’t worry. There’s worse things.” Allen dips a finger into his mouth. “…still better than Kanda.”

“Shut up.”

“You want to go another round?”

“Do you?”

“Seriously?” Lavi yanks a pillow and puts it over his head. “I’m…gone…”

Kanda manages to glare at Allen even as he tangles his fingers messily into his hair. “Next time.”

Allen flips him off before he lies on his back, and closes his eyes. Only after he’s sure they’re all asleep does he slip out into the bathroom. He turns the stoppers for the shower, and then collapses in a fit of laughter, half-smothering himself with the effort.

One: Allen Walker is actually not drunk tonight.

Two: Allen Walker does not like to get drunk. While Kanda and Lavi egged each other one, he pretended to take as many shots as they did. Sleight of hand is child’s play to him. He only had three shots. Not nearly enough to make him drunk.

Three: curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to see what they’d be like without inhabitations. Sure, it got slightly rougher than he’d expected, but hearing Kanda moan like that and Lavi whimpering—he has all the blackmail he’d want for a while. Also Kanda singing--he'd made sure Timcanpy got all of that down. Maybe he'd broadcast it, maybe he'd save it. Either way, he's spend a very, very productive evening.

He steps in the shower and breathes in the warm air, still shaking from laughter. Hell, he’s going to be so damn sore tomorrow, but sometimes it pays to be an awesome liar. Even the fingernail marks and the split lip—it was worth it.

Author’s Notes: Don’t mess with Allen. Just. Don’t. He won’t lie back and think of England. He’ll conquer your ass.

And here beings the new round of fic fills! Next is an Allen/Lenalee request.

Don’t forget to keep an eye out on the hit count. If you nab the 1,500 mark, screenshot it and link it to me using tinypic, imgur, photobucket—wherever you want to upload it to so I can see it, and then you get an extra request even if requests are closed. They just have to fit the guidelines.

Chapter Text

Characters: Allen/Lenalee

Warnings: Sex/masturbation. Not sure what other warnings I ought to put in. Maybe angst because this is a sad pairing.

Author’s Note: The request was for desperate, quick sex—so I hope I chose something fitting. And I don’t believe that sex always means penetration is involved. I see sex as being intimate touching at times when it's called for.

Gone

Time is not on the side of the Black Order. More time, more chances, more moments. Their clock ticks, and with each generation, ticks faster. They’re an organization, somehow holding on and not dying out. Certainly there’s the backing of the Church, except it’s mostly funding. You can’t artificially create exorcists. They’ve tried, so hard, but it backfires again and again. Human cannot force the hand of God, nor Innocence itself.

Sometimes, you get a trump card. Generals were those with more than 100% synchro rate, but some exceeded that by far. Think 200%, or more. At some point you’re so well-synchroed they begin to worry. Especially if you’re a free thinker. Organizations like good little soldiers that do as they’re told, and the more powerful the better.

The challengers? It doesn't matter how powerful they are, if they’re held in suspicion, all they need is one reason to lock them up.

One reason.

And Allen Walker crossed too many lines.

They never made him a general. He couldn’t be one, not with his…status. And now this newest incident made sure of it.

They’re unhappy because he was the trump card, but he couldn’t be obedient, and they couldn’t use him. Not even with someone watching his moves.

But it’s because they didn’t understand him. Did anyone? Someone as crazy as he is, with thoughts like his?

It’s the humblest of people that do.

And the sad thing is, they’re powerless to do anything.

__---|||:|||---___

Lenalee is frustrated.

She has just one request.

And they don’t seem to want to listen.

People are too tense. Rumors fly, people whisper, she worries. Kanda is missing, so are Bookman and Lavi; Chaoji is sick, and Allen…

She endures this for a week before she makes up her mind.

Her heels tap harshly against cold ground and echo off colder walls. She carries an angry aura, face set and mouth in a tight line. It’s the “don’t mess with me” look that most people are familiar with.

Lvellie she refuses to deal with.

But Link…she can. She catches him just as he rounds a corner, and almost steps on his toe.

“I want to see him.”

“You cannot.”

“I’m not planning to break him out.”

“Orders are ord—”

“Two hours alone with him. I’m not even asking much. I heard he’s not eating so I just want to make sure he is.” She clasps her hands in front of her.

“…No.” Link does not budge.

“This isn’t fair.”

“To you?”

“To Allen.” Anger flashes through her; she jabs a finger into his chest. “If you don’t, I’ll…knock out the guards when you aren’t here and borrow a key.”