Power of the King

BY : escapeasy
Category: +. to F > Code Geass
Dragon prints: 516
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining/related to Code Geass and I’m not making any profit from this work.

[Original post date: May 2010]

Beware of Lelouch's madness, power fetish, and brotherly hatred as he goes seme on Schneizel.

Semi written for a kink fill. Wrote this long ago and l've become uncomfortable about it, as I'm not into non-con, but I spent time on it and this fic became more about Lelouch's slipping sanity than the Geass-rape...

Power of the King

Lelouch cannot contain his sadistic smirk.

Kneeling before him is none other than the renowned and respected former Britannian Prime Minister shackled and slumped on the floor with that glassy film over his eyes from a checkmated move Lelouch pulled on this once undefeated man. The White Prince has finally fallen and is now at the mercy of his enemy, The Demon King, who has painted the world black with his tyranny and cleared the entire board of all the ivory armies that littered his domain. And while the human race does rest in the palm of Lelouch’s hand, there isn’t a sweeter victory than the sight of Schneizel without all of his poise and air of superiority as he kneels completely and utterly conquered. There isn’t a note of pride that can ring from the chains laced around him as they constrict his arrogance and self-righteousness; making everything this proud prince ever held nothing more than a memory, a weak shadow that hides under his bowed form. Everything that Schneizel was has been taken away from him, exercised by the very demonic power that possess him and renders him just another worthless pawn like the many he had carelessly used, and the many trapped in Lelouch’s hands.

Schneizel’s eyes are dimmer then what they used to be but Geass keeps them focused, trained on Lelouch’s like a pet waiting for a command. The steel collar locked around his neck more than completes the image and the glint that shines from them is sadly much stronger than that cold, blue gaze. His hair is slightly disheveled but the flaxen colour still holds some of its modest sheen, curling like a hook around his fair face. His lips are flat with neither a frown nor smile, emotionless and yet not ignorant to the situation – Lelouch may have subjugated his elder brother, but there are some things that Geass won’t mask; after all, a pawn cannot be a pawn if it isn’t able to follow orders.

Such submission from this man tops many of Lelouch’s pleasures and now that he has gained perhaps the one thing that he has longed to have – supreme control – Lelouch’s nearly dormant desires are surfacing and telling him one thing: exploitation. None of the details matter, small or large, all that does matter is that Lelouch has won and is the master in charge. He and he alone holds the power here, and he’s certainly no stranger to abusing his advantages.

“How the mighty have fallen…” Lelouch’s voice is low and smooth, flowing past his lips like a cool stream of water. He doesn’t expect a response of course; he just can’t seem to keep this heavenly complacent and triumphant feeling to himself. Despite how composed he makes his words sound he is fighting to contain the mad laughter burgeoning in his stomach that wants to cackle out of his throat like fire crackers at a celebration. Many times Lelouch has fantasized this sight and although he never imagined it quite like this he can’t say he’s disappointed – he couldn’t be any farther away on the emotional spectrum. This whole moment he has wrapped around his finger has even gotten him a little hard – perhaps that’s proof of the loose screws in his head, but Lelouch never claimed to be sane he’s only claimed to be a demon.

He certainly has a demonic smile ripping through the cool exterior of his composure.

The lights above them spread wide to illuminate every wall of the cell, allowing Schneizel’s silhouette to rest on Lelouch’s lap as he remains slightly bowed. Lelouch has one leg draped over the other as his usual fashion, patiently tapping the base of a tall, crowned, onyx king against his knee as he continues to relish the display of Schneizel’s stoop. He sits superciliously under the pale light in his regal, white robes on a meager, little cot – one of the few fixtures in Schneizel’s cell. This “dangerous” prisoner resides in solitary confinement minus any luxury of padded walls with only a sliver of glass as a window that’s covered by a metal slip in the security-tight door. The only semblances of a homey atmosphere Schneizel has are the steel toilet and sink that shine dully in the nearby corner, and of course this board-like bunk standing a few paces from them.

The two of them are alone in this plated room with guards waiting outside as instructed, standing by for any “incident” that might arise and put their Emperor in danger. The walls are not quite soundproof but dense enough to imprison most sounds just like the being they’re impounding – but stray noises are not Lelouch’s concern. It’s just a fact that’s been taken into account…

Lelouch pauses his tapping, delightful thoughts ballooning in his vengeful head now that he’s been idle enough to let them grow. They’re not new impulses, not exactly, but at a time like this…

Lelouch’s smirk broadens to expose his sneering teeth in their uniformed rows and he brandishes the black king like a spear pointed at Schneizel’s face as he grabs that burly chain hooked to the front of Schneizel’s collar with bare fingers.

“Lick it.”

Schneizel follows his order without fail or complaint, and Lelouch finds himself licking his own lips as he watches Schneizel curl his wide tongue around the slender piece in calm laps. There’s no haste in these licks, but the obedience driving that temperate tongue clenches a heated feeling in Lelouch’s core; and for once this feverish surge filling his veins isn’t unpleasant like the bubbling bile from a wrathful storm that typically brews under his skin when he’s near this man. It’s a sensation that fizzes pleasantly in his body, flickering hotter each time Schneizel’s tongue brushes his fingers as it snakes and slinks the circumference of the chess piece, dressing it in layers of his saliva. Lelouch isn’t oblivious to this feeling, he knows where it will build if he should let it sink so deep in his senses. He just didn’t think such absolute power would surround him in an intoxicating bubble.

Or, rather, he didn’t think it would take effect this quickly.

“Stop,” he commands stonily again. “Open your mouth.”

Schneizel is in no state to rebel but he still carries a bit of his aristocratic edge when he complies, silently parting his lips. Maybe it’s just that impression that will never leave Lelouch’s mind like an image seared into his memory from childhood, or maybe it really is just a genetic quality – is Schneizel’s blood truly blue?

Lelouch twists the piece in his fingers with a slight frown. It’s almost like Schneizel is trying to spite him even while being controlled and it’s more infuriating than it is true.

“Wider!” Lelouch practically roars with a harsh, upward yank on the chain – this is Lelouch’s moment; it will not be stolen by this semi-conscious-but-really-not prick with a name that sounds like a type of meat dish!

Schneizel’s lips open wider as directed, bringing some highlights to his flat tongue and that little uvula dangling at the back of his mouth. Lelouch traces his brother’s dry lips with the tip of the king’s crown, making a slow circle over them before slipping it inside. He presses it against that squirmy organ planted to the floor of Schneizel’s mouth, coating it in the liquid pooling under his massaging strokes. He stares into Schneizel’s eyes, at the blank slate of stone covering the rawness that no doubt could be brought forward with the right provocation.

Lelouch pushes the piece in further with two fingers on its base, stopping just before his fingertips touch any teeth.

“Suck it.”

Lelouch watches Schneizel’s lying lips close around the bottom of the black king with an anticipation that nearly has him on the edge of his seat and feeling his legs whine to stretch as surprisingly warm lips touch his skin. He slides the wet marble in and out of Schneizel’s mouth as the obstinate tickling grows between his legs with this sweltering sensation that’s warming the blood streaming through his body. His heating ears twitch to the sucking sounds smacking in the dead air, sharpening his eyes on the way Schneizel’s cheeks sink and how swallows ride down his throat, rolling down his pearly neck before falling behind his collar. It makes Lelouch consciously gulp like he’s trying to force certain urges down as he stares straight at the absent orbs of his zombie brother, finally letting his legs uncross to welcome comfort between them. His pants have gotten much tighter, he realizes, and now the pulse of his heartbeat is more prominent in his crotch than anywhere else.

Lelouch yanks the chain leash again to pull his prisoner closer and shoves the king inside Schneizel’s watering mouth with his thumb, forcing a string of drool to dribble out of the corner.

“You need to suck it harder than that.” Lelouch scorns, leaning closer to Schneizel’s face with a glower darkening his features.

It almost feels a bit ridiculous to be so authoritarian when there’s not a chance in Hell that Schneizel will resist any order spat at him. But Lelouch, his controlling nature notwithstanding, has swathed himself in this role and won’t step out of it no matter what.

It’s almost too exciting to prevent him from even trying.

Lelouch furrows his brow, wrenching the chain latched to his biological brother’s collar hoping to pull his own thoughts back to this moment. Schneizel’s stare is still tame even after the vicious haul and as his mouth cumbrously sucks that black royal imposing his mouth.

It’s time for Lelouch to break this wall of composure surrounding Schneizel by using the dictatorial advantage Geass has given to him.

After all, what else is it for?

“…So obedient, aren’t we?”

Schneizel, of course, does not respond.

Lelouch taps his fingers on his knee with a deep, crooked smile. His brother really has become a mere lapdog and it couldn’t please him more.

He slaps his left hand to his side on the thin mattress he’s sitting on, “Lay your chest here.”

Lelouch watches zealously as Schneizel shuffles around on his knees, resting his chest in the exact place Lelouch had indicated with his hand. Lelouch pets Schneizel’s soft hair with threading fingers, letting them follow along Schneizel’s nape to the cold collar and down the chain spine connecting it to the cuffs binding his hands behind his back which are secured to his waist with but more chain acting as a strong belt around his tattered clothes. Lelouch listens to their quiet tinkering with the joy of supremacy thriving in his veins and filling his loins with yen as he soaks in this view. His eyes feast on a strip of ivory flesh between Schneizel’s haggard shirt and pants causing his wicked, crazed smile to present the unraveling of his sanity as he slides his fingertips over that wintry skin. Schneizel doesn’t wear the standard straightjacket garb like all his other prisoners simply because Lelouch wishes to see His Highness in rags. They’re also easier to remove, though that wasn’t the thought Lelouch had in mind when he made this decision.

He slips his hand underneath the loose pants, spreading it flat over Schneizel’s rear.

Schneizel cringes slightly under his touch.

“What’s wrong, you don’t like this?” Lelouch asks derisively as he rubs his hand over fleshy cheeks. “Well, that’s irrelevant,” he swiftly swipes the thin, gray apparel down with the back of his hand, “because you’re going to like whatever I tell you to like.” Lelouch yanks his brother’s hair with his other hand, sharply angling his head so that his face is clearly visible and then drops the same hand in front of Schneizel’s mouth. “Spit it out.”

The piece is promptly spat into his hand and Lelouch wastes no time uniting it with the other at Schneizel’s pale behind. The fingers of his left hand dig into the fleshy spheres as they spread them wide, distracting his eyes from seeing what he reveals. He notices his palms are clammy and his mouth has suddenly dried up as if a leak in his body is causing his hands to salivate instead. He sees the tame tremble in his arm, noticing the way his hand shakes to the beat of his heart that’s pounding in the pressure of his tightening pants – but it isn’t trepidation that’s making his nerves unstable.

It’s something much more fun.

“You will hold nothing back, show me everything you are feeling,” Lelouch orders resolutely, using his voice to grasp for the steeliness he feels trying to escape him. “Is that understood?”

Lelouch pins his eyes to Schneizel’s, feeling the uncomfortable burn under his contacts spike over the pleasant heat fumbling between his legs.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Lelouch’s lips twitch with those unbecoming chortles nibbling at his throat again, making him swallow so they fall down into an unhealthy pocket in his stomach; and while he does manage to hold his mad laughter in check, he can’t stop daftness from tearing across his lips. Schneizel’s voice is still quite clean if a little dusty from spending so much time alone and speaking only when spoken to, but it’s the words dropping out of his mouth that make Lelouch giddy.

He just nods and tries to lick the battiness off his lips knowing he’d giggle like a manic child if he should let his mouth open and looks back to his hands which are still waiting for their directions. He zero’s his eyes on the slick king aimed at his brother’s puckering entrance and lets his legs shift slightly as he presses the crown against the resistant ring of muscle.

“Now, now,” Lelouch chides with devilish glee teasing his vocal cords as his voice slips out his twisted lips. “You’re not going to refuse this, are you?” he pushes the piece more vehemently against Schneizel’s pale rectum. “Not only will you graciously receive everything I – your king and master – give you, but you’ll enjoy it too.”

Lelouch watches with satisfaction as Geass starts to sweep the mild grimace away from Schneizel’s features, reveling in his prisoner’s dull voice—

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“My three favorite words,” Lelouch murmurs pleasantly, seeming to cap his undignified laughter better than he thought he could, and languidly digs the coal king into the laxer opening. He slides his eyes over Schneizel’s face, observing how quickly Geass patches the fissures of reluctance or discomfort on his face with the fabrication of enjoyment. Lelouch can virtually see it working behind his eyes, draining into his blood stream from his brain to cleanse any rebellious impulses, quashing them before they can even start a revolt. It stills Schneizel’s hands, infiltrating his writhing fingers and relaxes them like a drug is consuming his entire being.

It should be a shame that Lelouch is the only one who can enjoy this substance’s side-effects.

It should be, but it isn’t.

Lelouch twists the marble piece as he nudges it deeper, wiggling it in around like a knife scraping the inside of an empty jar, but instead of silverware screeching against glass it’s the clinking of chains on the icy floor of Schneizel’s cell that splice with the silence and quiet breaths. Little spurts of air sound from Schneizel’s mouth as flickering contortions of aversion are constantly swept away while Lelouch absently toils. He slowly swivels it farther inside Schneizel’s virginal orifice with confused muscles acting as ushers for the black king that pull it in farther. The piece is more than long enough to reach what Lelouch is aiming for as it’s roughly the size of his finger, so he’s actually surprised he hasn’t hit—

Schneizel’s body jerks with something like a surprised mewl springing from his lips – a sound not easily associated with this man but no less gratifying to hear.

Probably more so because of that fact.

Lelouch wants to say something witty, sneer a sentence of twisted meaning, sprinkle some degrading words on top of this derogating moment, but he just holds his devilish smile – perhaps nothing really needs to be said. He doesn’t need to waste his breath on words for a man that’s worthless without his own smooth rhetoric. These little gasps of pleasure suit him better anyway, gaining volume with Lelouch’s insensitive insertion. He cranks the game piece roughly like an oar in stubborn rapids, watching Geass spill over Schneizel’s face in waves that has any glimpses of displeasure completely drowned and unseen like an ocean floor. His cerulean blue eyes are hazy and hooded as a colour opposing composure quickly falls over his cheeks and his patterned breaths are turning choppy by harsh stimulation. It squirms in his body, now making his hands fist and open in restlessness as they strain against their bindings that jingle tentatively over the buzzing of the florescent lights burning above them – and those tubes of glass aren’t the only rods radiating heat in this room. All these small, pathetic sounds whimpering from Schneizel’s mouth make the solidifying in Lelouch’s trousers that more prominent, throbbing harder every time Schneizel’s hips jump. It’s all like some kind of perverse aphrodisiac that rushes right to Lelouch’s groin and too potent to let him meander through this affair any longer.

He thrusts the king into his brother’s ass, shoving it in as far as he can before muscles clench around the tips of his fingers. Schneizel’s face scrunches up immediately but despite its somewhat repulsive formation the loud shout that jumps from his mouth paints the whole scene with a gratified gloss. Lelouch repeats the action, absorbing the voluptuous display his older brother is making with that healthy rouge feathering across his face like a spread cardinal and the way his hips lunge as the king grinds over his insides in a quickening pace. His voice flops out of his mouth in strange noises that aren’t quite moans or screams but seem to stem from his stomach as they grow louder each time his prostate is struck like Lelouch is hitting a volume button.

Lelouch accidentally lets a huff of his bottling laughter stick in the hot air around them as his impious smile seethes at Schneizel’s reactions, the sight being too amusing – and downright delicious – for him to hold it in any longer; however his maniacal cackles aren’t the only thing becoming difficult to contain… Lelouch glances at his crotch to see exactly what he expected: a tent in his pants. His thighs fidget with an uneasy wrinkle in his brow as if meagerly squirming in place like an antsy child will relieve anything.

Well, he can think of something that will…

He stills his thrusting of the game piece with only the crimped top hiding inside Schneizel’s flexing rectum to look his brother over as he speaks.

“So tell me, dear brother,” Lelouch calls not even bothering to fluff his tone, “are you enjoying this?”

Schneizel is breathless but Geass will always prevail where he fails, “Yes…”

Lelouch scoffs, “Well, it’s obvious. You should see how hungry you look down here.” Lelouch presses the tip of his forefinger to the flat, round bottom of the king and leisurely pushes until all of the shiny marble disappears behind the pink rim like it’s sinking in a patch of quicksand. He easily forces it in a little deeper with his finger, speaking chummily when he feels Schneizel squeeze around his middle knuckle, “See? Swallowed it right up.” He casts an amiable look at his brother as if expecting a real response – perhaps, for just a second, he really does.

Schneizel only stares at him like a blank sheet of paper.

Lelouch nods as if Schneizel had indeed replied and gestures to himself with a lazy wave of his fingers when he pulls his hands away, beckoning the prisoner with a half-murmur. He amusedly watches Schneizel waddle awkwardly on his knees with his own rigid length jutting from his hips and gray britches wadded around his legs. Lelouch runs his fingertips over the straining material of his own pants, grinning deviously when his prisoner is kneeling directly in front of him again, and then makes quick work of unfastening his clothes. He breathes deeply at the liberating feeling of cool air cascading his hot erection, grazing his fingers teasingly over his aroused flesh before circling them around it as he fists his other hand in Schneizel’s limp locks.

“Open your mouth. It’s time for you to suck on a different black king.” He tugs the man’s hair to align himself with that open mouth. “Do not bite down,” Lelouch mutters as the only form of a preamble before he impales Schneizel’s face on his crotch.

Schneizel’s gargled choke is popped by Lelouch’s length when it fills his throat, sliding down his esophagus that opens for Lelouch as said young Emperor lets a low noise bleed out of his mouth. Lelouch only stops pressing on Schneizel’s head once he feels a nose nuzzle into the dark nest of his pubic curls but does not relent his merciless grip in the faded, blond hair as he savors the humid heat surrounding him. The wonderfully confining warmth of Schneizel’s wet, velvet throat…

“What are you waiting for?” Lelouch nearly snaps. “Start sucking.”

He smugly leans back against the wall when Schneizel starts to move, swallowing with surprising ease that makes his narrow throat contract splendidly around Lelouch’s erection. A contented sigh spills past Lelouch’s lips at the moist grip that slinks around his hard cock with that silky, slithering tongue. He keeps his breathing controlled as his brother obediently sucks up his shaft but his white boots scuff lightly against the floor and his other hand tightly clutches the bed beneath him in a silent struggle to stay calm. He pulls on Schneizel’s hair when he reaches the top and gives the head a few good sucks that reel out a curse underneath Lelouch’s breath.

It’s not as if Lelouch has never felt the sensations of this act before, he’s only caught off-guard by the way Schneizel dutifully pleasures him in an educated manner that gives him more than he asked for; even building a rousing rhythm that’s smooth and clean without any obnoxious gagging like Lelouch was anticipating – which Lelouch is a little disappointed to not hear. It seems Schneizel is better at this than he expected – in fact, it’s suspicious at how well he’s handling it…

“So you’ve done this before, huh?” Lelouch chuckles breathily, squeezing the mattress as Schneizel sinks fully over him again. “I wonder who had the pleasure…”

Schneizel rises abruptly but before he can even slip completely off he is unceremoniously rammed back down over Lelouch’s erection.

“That was a rhetorical question, Schneizel. Just keep sucking.” Lelouch mutters, thrusting up into his brother’s mouth a little.

A rhetorical question indeed – it’s not like Lelouch wants to know where Schneizel’s mouth has been, although he’s pretty sure he can already guess…

Lelouch tries to relax again as Schneizel continues to unhurriedly carry out his command but the knowledge that Lelouch is forcing his beaten adversary to debase himself has perhaps made him more excited than he realized and perhaps making him more sensitive so that not a second of this attention will go to waste. It’s making this a tad more unbearable than it should be and Lelouch isn’t about to settle for a subpar experience. Even so, this ache is probably only really setting into his senses because of Schneizel’s bobbing head…

Lelouch huffs.

“Suck harder and move faster!” he demands emphatically with a rather unnecessary yank on Schneizel’s hair.

Schneizel quickly complies making the noises of his hastier movements crack wetly in the air – Lelouch isn’t sure why but Schneizel’s acquiescence only serves to piss him off even more. It’s almost as if the tables have turned now that Schneizel is apparently in a comfortable zone with Lelouch leaving his and that is not something that makes Lelouch happy nor is it something he will authorize. That was not Lelouch’s aim when he set forth on this endeavor or when he set foot inside this sterile, silver cell.

And certainly not when he used his power to subdue the proud Prime Minister.

He throws his hips up hard as Schneizel is sliding down and it makes his brother gag, causing a choke to burst in his throat which constricts Lelouch’s erection again. It squeezes some unseemly chortles out of Lelouch before he can try to suppress them; the control over his laughter buckling like that of a stubborn but ticklish child that’s reaching their limit. These low snickers tumble from his crazed lips as he watches Geass block distressed wrinkles from rupturing on Schneizel’s flushing face underneath his strong grasp in Schneizel’s hair to hold him in place when he thrusts up again. Before Lelouch realizes it he’s using the wall behind him as leverage as he repeatedly hoists his hips off the bunk faster and faster until he’s essentially fucking his brother’s face with his leaking laughter popping gaily over the slick, slippery sounds of his unforgiving heaves. It isn’t even the pleasurable feeling of thrusting in and out of this wet mouth that fuels his hips; it’s the fact of the matter that’s got his hormones in a hyper frenzy – though he isn’t blind to the swampy feeling hugging his length as he moves. So for these moments of overwhelming euphoria and tantalizing pleasure, Lelouch is nearly giggling with elation as he detains Schneizel’s head in both of his hands with his fingers still grappled in the wispy texture of those light-blond waves of hair. He isn’t connected to his brain or even a single thought as his hysteric chuckles evaporate into huffs or grunts of ecstasy; it isn’t until the sudden, surging warning of his climax that he mentally falls back to the small room.

He looks down at Schneizel with a dazed gaze and a light heat-stain on his cheeks, distracted by the sight of his cock getting buried repeatedly inside this man’s – his brother’s – head before snapping from the trance and pulling himself completely out of Schneizel’s mouth. He quickly grabs his twitchy organ and jerks some needless pumps before holding for aim at the face grasped securely in his other hand so that when his dam breaks in an exulting rush it’s Schneizel’s face that catches the spill. Lelouch watches through slit-eyes as his release splatters over that imperial face in lucent, sticky ribbons and spool in vapid folds inside Schneizel’s wide-open mouth. Lelouch doesn’t even give his orgasm much thought or recognition except that it comes and goes like a refreshing breeze. He realizes his breathing is shallower than he’d like and immediately sets to correct it with an offhanded pet of Schneizel’s head, but other than that Lelouch’s attention is undivided from the sullied features of this “White Prince.” Somewhere in Lelouch’s mind the thought that this look suits his brother very well blinks by with a very deep but tame smirk shaping his lips.

He traces his finger over an imaginary line over Schneizel’s face from his tousled hair without touching his coated skin, only skimming the man’s chaffed bottom lip, grinning at Geass’ rejection of a wince as he presses hard on the swollen flesh.

“Now be a good boy and swallow this for me.” Lelouch’s tender tone shreds through his feral smile as he slides his finger into Schneizel’s sullied mouth, maintaining his deranged grin as Schneizel follows yet another order with a notable sound. He retracts his clean finger from Schneizel’s closed lips and would dip it right back in the mess he made on his brother’s face if he didn’t have a better tool for the job. He grabs the chain linked to Schneizel’s collar and tugs it towards himself, practically pulling his prisoner over his knee as he extends his arm to cup a hand underneath Schneizel’s behind. “I want my king back now, Schneizel. Push it out,” Lelouch states clearly and malevolently, “…Or do I need to reach up there and get it myself?”

There is a slight pause on Schneizel’s end before Lelouch feels Schneizel’s stomach contract over his thigh. But after seconds of effort Lelouch grows impatient and releases the steel leash so he can plunge his hand down between the man’s legs to grab the stiff flesh still inflated from Schneizel’s crotch in a ruthless grip with a subdued growl grumbling from his throat. An inelegant yelp volleys from Schneizel’s mouth along with the chess piece out of his body after his lower body convulses from Lelouch’s abuse. Lelouch only smiles happily to himself when the king is discharged into his hand, holding it delicately in his fingertips as he had previously.

“As you were.” he gives Schneizel an ill-mannered shove and beams like a little boy might to his big brother once they are face to face again and swipes the tainted crown of his king like a spoon through the gooey layer over Schneizel’s skin. “Open wide~” he says with the same insane, genial smile as he feeds the older man like he’s an infant, being sure to have his captive lick the marble clean. Lelouch hums, satisfied with the result, and replicates the act by skating the tip of the chess piece through the substance and forces Schneizel to ingest it a few more times before it bores him and he rests his head against the wall with a deep sigh. He feels his body slouch into relaxation save for one very pressing matter pounding on his nerves.

Lelouch… is still hard.

Is this something that should fill him with pride or shame? He had never been this stimulated with Suzaku – though dominating his supposedly deceased Knight in these recent events has definitely elevated him to higher levels due to sheer circumstances. Not even engagements with Rolo left him – better yet, his body – wanting more even though Rolo was easy and yielding. Contrarily, despite his utter submission it was the lack of any kind of affection or, dare Lelouch think it, passion in the first place that left their experiences together fairly flat.

Of course this is Schneizel. Everything was always different when it came to Schneizel.

Here there is no romance, a burning desire for a “forbidden” love, the yearning to feel another’s body or for release – it’s not even about sex. No, this primal urge surfacing after years of neglect isn’t blooming from the natural drive to procreate for the sake of evolution; this craving is too unnatural to be animalistic, too uncivilized and too pointless to be anything but demented. When Lelouch embarked on this rebellion – his ultimate act of offspring insubordination – he wouldn’t have dreamt that besmirching his brother would be a by-product. Defeating Schneizel had always been a goal, even in his renegade mission, but this

This is just insane.

Even so, this temporarily overshadows his imminent and definite end, so why not shamelessly indulge while he can?

It’s not as though there is a reason to hold back anymore.

That’s why, before Lelouch takes any real time to deliberate his treading impulses, he stands up in a robust flourish that makes him appear larger than he is with his white robes and headpiece adding length to his height, leaving the ebony king behind on Schneizel’s flat pillow.

“Get to your feet and bend over,” Lelouch spouts at Schneizel who promptly does as he’s told without even blinking. Lelouch doesn’t think about how ridiculous it is for him to be barking at his older brother with bloated erections branching from their pelvises but how annoyingly tall Schneizel is. He just doesn’t quite lineup properly to the area he wishes to invade…

Lelouch had never liked how he always had to look up to Schneizel when he was a child, but he abhors it even more now that he’s grown older into a bigger body – and considering his age, he’s certainly apt to gain more height if not for the shrinking of his existence – and is still needing to do the same. It just figures that Lelouch seems to take up more after his mother appearance-wise who is, while still quite tall herself, smaller than that man whom Schneizel apparently acquired his stature from much like many of the royal siblings – all the more reason to detest Schneizel like never before. Their height difference feels like a tangible, materialized form of their rivalry and how Lelouch has always seemed to be the one trying to catch-up and surpass Schneizel but was never quite able to bridge the gap. Like the amount of inadequacy Lelouch felt towards the Second Prince has been measured and displayed in the looming loftiness of Schneizel’s physique. Even now, despite finally cutting his brother down to size, Lelouch is only reminded of those antagonistic times and it leaves an unpleasant taste of bitter nostalgia on his tongue.

It’s almost a wonder why Lelouch hasn’t killed Schneizel off yet or at the very moment he got the man in check. If he wasn’t necessary post-Zero Requiem, Lelouch can’t honestly say he’d feel obligated to keep the old Prime Minster around. …Then again, making Schneizel a slave for now and essentially the rest of his living days isn’t bad either – probably more satisfying than he thought it would be when he planned his final moves. Moreover, Lelouch has waited all his life to gloat victoriously over his “undefeatable” big brother, there’s no way he’d skip a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Although, he can’t say he won’t be returning to visit his prisoner again before his time is up.

So with this new fervor adding fuel to the fire of Lelouch’s resolve another satanic curve crawls over his lips, pinning them up tight at their corners. His willowy fingers seize Schneizel’s naked waist and he shoves until his wise head hits the steel wall with a sharp, thick thud.

“Get on the bed and kneel facing away from me.” Lelouch directs in the same fluent tone he manipulated his voice with when he spoke to Schneizel before and nonchalantly steps to the end of the furniture with a silky smile lying across his lips.

He follows Schneizel with keen, feline eyes as the prisoner climbs onto the dwarf bench with an empty expression underneath the viscous mask of Lelouch’s release that’s clumping in the lock of tangled hair still trying to curve around his face. Schneizel’s long, unbound legs bend under his body as he settles about-faced from Lelouch with the appropriate amount of hunching in his posture to display the uneven status of their relationship, head bowed for respect.

Lelouch’s eyes narrow in a devious form of appeasement at the noble act, but…

He reaches for the loops of metal linked down Schneizel’s back and grasps it with a quick jerk in his direction, cracking a choke from Schneizel’s otherwise silent mouth when he is abruptly pulled backward with an unyielding collar tight around his neck.

“On your knees, pressed up against me.” Lelouch instructs; his menacing tone polished in a very thin layer of enchantment reserved for his charismatic sprees which weighs his voice with just the right amount of derision.

All he can do after he releases Schneizel’s chain is cross his arms expectantly over his chest as the unrelenting grin of madness simmers on his lips while he watches Schneizel move into place. The only thing that distracts his vigil observance is a gleam of light in front of him that’s trying to pry his eyes away from their watch. He glances, looking up a second time to properly survey the manifestation that is eager for his attention to learn it is the same glint from Schneizel’s collar reflecting in the mirror suspended above that pathetic, prison sink. Lelouch’s smile sharpens with amusement in that slab of glass before it is blocked by Schneizel when he finally situates in his perch on the very edge of the bed against Lelouch like directed, causing Lelouch to leer around Schneizel’s reflection in the mirror. With this cot being shorter than both of their knees – or more importantly, Schneizel’s knees – some of that lofty leverage Lelouch feels lording over him is eaten, bringing them to an equal level. However, equality isn’t quite what Lelouch is going for.

Not in this case.

Lelouch hovers his smirk over Schneizel’s shoulder as he slithers a hand up the back of Schneizel’s head in a calm rake through the oily sprouts of wheat hair with his other hand re-securing a hold on the chain spine. Even through their reflections Schneizel’s iceberg-blue hues are still magnetized to Lelouch’s, prickling another sharp wave of pain under his contacts, but he ignores it as he presses his seeping erection into Schneizel’s backside and tightly grasps tresses of hair.

“Isn’t this perfect? The arrangement, I mean.” he tilts Schneizel’s head to the side, giving him the look of a curious puppy dog that weeds a few buds of quiet laughter from Lelouch’s throat. “Not that I’m interested in hearing your opinion…”

Lelouch pushes Schneizel forward, feeling fingers rub against his stomach as he bends the man over, being sure his fingers stay twisted in Schneizel’s mussed hair. He straightens himself and gazes at their image in the mirror, rather pleased that he’s able to preserve the prostrated manner of Schneizel’s position and still be able to get a good view of his face even if it’s lingering too close the edge – nothing a little tug on the chain can’t fix. Lelouch pulls the metal rein that lifts Schneizel’s head up high like any steed Lelouch has reigned before, but the invulnerable feeling of pulling these bindings is much more empowering than when with a mere horse.

It’s easy to understand why that is.

The gleam over Lelouch’s eyes in the mirror is not the work of distortion as he joyfully locks his hand around the chain and the other hand around his pulsing erection, smearing as much of his own natural lubricant as he can around himself before thrusting it forward like a lance.

His voice isn’t as quick to life, sliding rather than bursting out of his mouth in a low moan that’s almost overshadowed by Schneizel’s surprised squall which Geass tappers off into a hoarse whimper – but it all falls on deaf ears. Lelouch is more enrapt by Schneizel’s volcanic cavity that inhaled him like a vacuum, now squeezing so tight around his entire length it’s making him feel like he’s melting into Schneizel’s body.

“So tight…” Lelouch pants almost absently. It isn’t as though this sensation is new for Lelouch either, having taken two virgins before – appearing to mark another tally now that he’s entered his brother – which would probably seem like strange odds to an outsider. However, no matter how many times Lelouch experiences this consuming swelter he’s sure he’d never tire or grow immune to it. And with the added bonus of Schneizel, Lelouch is quite certain that his sanity is leaking into Schneizel’s body as well.

Lelouch pulls the handful of chain a bit closer, raising Schneizel’s red and semen-covered face higher in the mirror as he feels the excited beat of Schneizel’s heart pounding in the walls encasing his cock. He would already be humping like a rabbit if this constricting bliss wasn’t clinging to him like an unshakeable vice that’s only reinforced by the detail in Lelouch’s earlier command – not that Lelouch is regretting the words he had spoken. It not only places this act far above Lelouch’s expectations, but they warp and whip Schneizel with beautiful corruption that has never looked better on any of Lelouch’s geassed victims.

Some of the rabid laughter festering in Lelouch’s stomach begins to froth from his mouth again in delirious bursts that stud the air over the tentative tinkering of metal and the tense breaths puffing from Schneizel’s mouth. Yet it isn’t the appearance of Schneizel’s contorted expression of false pleasure or the circumstances that have brought the sight to him that has him laughing, but the general moment at hand. It’s as though the light has finally come on in Lelouch’s head, enlightening his rationality to what his impulses had gotten carried away with – like rationality stumbled into a party it hadn’t been invited to – but instead of feeling horrified or even disgusted about the situation, he’s absolutely tickled at how far he let himself go. That isn’t to say he has been blindly riding the flux of his whims, but actually taking a moment to step outside himself and the moment… it’s like there isn’t anything else he can do but laugh.

This is awfully rudimentary, isn’t it? Lelouch is better than this, isn’t he? He might as well be stomping around the room whilst beating his chest in a primitive display of his undeniable dominance, at the rate he’s going. Sure, Lelouch knew the barbaric implications beforehand, just as he knew this was ludicrous, but he’s still surprised by the unrefined image of himself he sees.

Perhaps he’ll be doing this world better than he thought by perishing at the hands of his own persona – which in itself already sounds crazy.

A fleeting glumness cuts the beads of chuckles stringing out of Lelouch’s throat as a suffocating emotion swells in his chest and threatens his eyes, but he sweeps it away as fast as it swooped in, adjusting his grip on Schneizel’s chain with an aching smile. Schneizel’s body is trembling with what Lelouch assumes is either anticipation or stress from staying in this straining position, and he is panting as his glazed eyes stare at Lelouch through the mirror. A subtle, self-directed scoff gusts from Lelouch’s lips as he straightens his posture again, seeming to have caved inward during his bout of laughter, bearing his teeth as he does so.

Now isn’t the time to wallow in self-pity or abnormal awe. Not when a grand victory is staring right at him.

Schneizel’s voice is blown from his throat in a short howl once Lelouch abruptly pulls out and drives back into him in an uninhibited force with guffaws raining from his mouth in a soft pour, snowballing when he decides to quickly engage in an erratic pace. The throaty calls struggling to squeeze through Schneizel’s windpipe are choked by the steel collar pinching his neck but the water building in his eyes spills much more freely in large diamonds that become tainted in their decline through the fluid drying on his face. His eyes widen and narrow with each invasion Lelouch makes, hiding his flooded, azure irises as his flaming cheeks puff in suffocation. His air-deprived body is stiff, absorbing the assail as obediently and graciously as possible all the while Lelouch is still cackling though it’s rough and wheezy in his hip’s assertive strides. Lelouch is almost too engrossed by the clenching furnace he’s burying into with every lunge – that accepts him as easily as a real lover might, maybe more so – to notice the creeping shade of blue that’s beginning to fade into Schneizel’s scarlet face.

He relents some of his grip on the chain, letting sweaty metal slip through his palms and feeling Schneizel’s hands against his own as he watches the man’s disgraceful reflection on the dirty glass fall. His senseless chortles seem to fall away as well, dissolving from him so his abdomen can focus its exertion on whipping his hips back and forth and so his breath is not wasted on needless noises – Schneizel’s mouth is already noisy enough for the both of them. Or maybe it’s just the resonance of this diminutive room, the sounds having nowhere else to go so they bounce like ping-pong balls from wall to wall. Schneizel isn’t exactly loud but his voice is sharp enough to slap against the steel walls and ring in the air over Lelouch’s wafting pants. However the only walls Lelouch wants to focus on are the firm, flexing insides of Schneizel’s skinny passage.

Schneizel is so compact it hurts. If only Lelouch had planned for this happening he could have brought something to ease the inflammation burning around his cock with unforgiving friction – and it’s not like Lelouch really tried to prepare Schneizel, either. Despite the chafing interior, though, this is still rapturous enough to dismiss the discomfort, feeling like he is pulled in deeper every time he thrusts in with those hot, inviting muscles closing tightly around him. Lelouch doesn’t know if it’s this Geass-induced suction that’s driving him crazy or his own natural drive, but he’s heaving his hips as fast they’ll go into Schneizel’s body, his hands gripping the pair of hips in front of him as huffs of his sick amusement sneak out of him again. He realizes that the cries from Schneizel’s mild voice are muffled, his brother’s top-half having collapsed into the cot’s thin cushion, Lelouch not knowing how long ago he fallen. Tasting his rapidly approaching climax, Lelouch quickly hauls Schneizel up by his new favorite tool, the chain latched to his collar, forcing another grating choke to stumble in the air.

“Say my name,” Lelouch orders more quietly and gruffly than he means to in Schneizel’s ear. He watches Schneizel’s face scrunch in the mirror, his mouth hanging open with no sound falling out – it gives Lelouch the strange impression that, perhaps, Schneizel is considering his answer.

But that’s not possible, is it?

Lelouch’s brow furrows impatiently, feeling his orgasm burning through his nerves like fire on a fuse and jerks the chain back as far as he can.

Say it!

Schneizel hacks, as expected, but once again, Geass makes up for his shortcoming just as Lelouch makes his last, deep thrust—


Lelouch almost feels detached from his orgasm as it drains from his body in thick waves that layer his senses with a fuzzy daze, unsure if it’s the fall from his peak or the stun of hearing Schneizel’s call – though it shouldn’t surprise him at all. He can only watch from this smothering haze as Schneizel’s face purses in the mirror with an open mouth, deaf to what it is releasing but feeling the vibration of speech against his chest before his strength recoils into his body. His weary grip goes slack on the chain, letting Schneizel sag into the bed again as his body goes completely limp with his legs continuing to hang their dead-weight over the edge he’s kneeling on. Lelouch even finds his hands bracing himself on Schneizel’s back as his body temporarily ceases to function, leaving him to tremble tiredly with his hips being the only part of him still animated as they ride through the shrinking waves of his completion. It occurs to him that he doesn’t know if Schneizel finished too, but it doesn’t matter if his prisoner was lucky enough to reach heaven – it wasn’t a part of Lelouch’s agenda nor is it any of his concern.

Lelouch blows the sluggish dust off his body and shoves Schneizel off of his soft, spent flesh rather than removing himself respectfully. There are smears of blood along his length as well as the area of abuse on Schneizel’s body, but Lelouch pays it no mind as he stoically reassembles himself until he’s a pristine, white emperor again. He gives Schneizel a slow once-over as he steps around the short bunk, hands clasped behind his back like he’s casually viewing an artwork exhibit.

Lelouch smirks.

This is certainly something that should be appreciated like a work of art. He did put in a lot of effort into this final product, refining his craft along the way, so why shouldn’t he treat it as a masterpiece? Truly, a desecrated Schneizel is the most pleasing thing his eyes have ever seen… Or maybe it places second to Nunnally’s smile – nothing could ever, ever bump her from the pedestal in his mind in any category – which is still quite remarkable, if Lelouch may think so. His brother is an absolute mess of blood, sweat, and cum as he lies in a slumped heap on his prison cot, portraying all the things he never portrayed before in public or in front of Lelouch.

“If the world could see you now…” Lelouch condemns as he gives himself one last check in the mirror, adjusting his headpiece so it is straight and proud on the crown of his head.

He sees and feels that his crooked smile is frozen on his lips again as the light and fizzy feeling of self-satisfaction fills his chest once more. He looks down at Schneizel so the man can see his prosperous grin and so he can savor Schneizel from this different angle when his eyes catch on the black king resting above Schneizel’s head, standing out in its contrast to the white pillow underneath it. He hums to himself and struts over to the chess piece, picking it up delicately – mindful of exactly where it’s been – and bends forward a little to loiter above Schneizel’s head to tap the king on his pawn’s nose. He speaks only a single word that is long since overdue and one Lelouch ironically cannot remember saying to this defeated White King—


Schneizel = Schnitzel ;]

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story