Disillusion | By : Sarryn Category: +S to Z > Sorcerer Hunters Views: 2965 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Sorcerer Hunters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Sorcerer Hunters, but that hasn’t stopped me from writing about them.
Warning: This story contains the themes of incest, maybe some violence, sex (a bit graphic in scenes), and male/male relationships. If any of these may offend you then stop reading. If, however, you do read this, in spite of my warnings, and find it offensive then I have to say it is your own fault. Some scenes are of an erotic nature, but I have attempted to write them as tastefully as my ability allows.
Note: I will not accept any flames, however, comments and criticisms are welcome. I am under the assumption that anyone reading this has a clear understanding of the difference between flames and criticisms so I don’t have to explain it. Here are some reason why I don’t accept flames: 1) they generally include an attack on the author’s character without regard to previous or future works that may or may not be in the same vein, 2) not only are they childish, but they make the writer of them sound immature and not old enough to read the material contained herein, 3) flames help neither the author nor the flamer to improve the work and, therefore, are not constructive, 4) if something is so offensive as to elicit the impulse to flame then it is better forgotten and not dwelled upon, 5) you waste time writing it and I waste time reading and then deleting it, 6) it won’t do you any good to point out my lack of scruples, morals, intelligence, sanity, etc., because not only don’t I care, but I won’t listen.
So, anyway, please review and no flames. Oh, this treads between the manga and anime. So if you haven’t watched and read both, or either, but then you wouldn’t be here, then some things might seem off. (Deus, if you read this, I will kill you!)
Much Love,
S-girl
Disillusion
He, my brother, had always been invincible to me. Nothing and no one could even hope to lay him low. He was indomitable and indestructible to my young mind. Then an illness swept through our town and he was the first to fall and the last to recover.
Our parents had forbidden me from entering his room, our room before he took ill, in fear that I would also catch the sickness. They often found me standing with indecisive agitation before his door. With frightening anger, perhaps due to my brother’s worsening condition and concern for my own health, they would shoo me away. I watched them enter and exit the room many times a day, a week. Sometimes they carried steaming bowls of broth or new remedies to try (my mother’s ability to draw upon the earth’s healing energies had proven inutile. In fact it only seemed to erode his condition, which puzzled everyone to no end) and at other times they ushered in strangers. Despite all this, though, nothing seemed to work and late at night, when they thought I was asleep, their angry, mutually frustrated voices would leech through the thin walls of our house. We all knew families who had already lost members, mostly children. Some of those children had even been our friends.
Yet despite our parents’ anxiety and my own trepidation, I wanted to see him. For weeks I had been banned from his bedside and, being five, I couldn’t fully comprehend their reasons. So I took it into my head to visit him in spite of our parents’ restriction.
On that day I opened the door with the utmost care, having already made certain that my parents wouldn’t find it necessary to return any time soon, and crept into the room. Sickness and death seemed to hold court in that sepulchral asylum. A soft panting filled the sticky air and managed to override the furious pounding of my young heart.
My brother lay there, as white as the sheets about him, with such stillness that I felt the urge to call out to our parents and announce his death. Then I detected that the painful sounding exhalations came from him. Sure enough the smooth sheets jerked under his labored breaths. He lived.
"Brother?" I queried with great apprehension as I moved closer. He made no reply. I inched closer until I could see the drops of sweat dripping down his sallow face and the hectic flush burning across his cheeks. I found myself at the edge of the bed moments later. I called out to him again and yet I received no answer.
My invincible brother was gone and instead this wretched, ugly doll-boy had replaced him. I felt betrayed and angry. I wanted nothing more than to lash out at this imposter that dared to masquerade as my beloved brother.
The door thundered open and our parents stormed into the room. They dragged me out screaming.
"That’s not my brother! That’s not him!"
* * *
Carrot Glace scratched his head and glanced about the still marble hall. He glanced left—no girls—and then he glanced right—still no girls. Of course he hadn’t really expected there to be in any, being in the Stella Church Main Diocese, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still look. He had a vague idea of waiting to see if Dotta would fly by so he could proposition her, but she rarely left Big Mama’s side and if she did it was either when he and the rest of the Sorcerer Hunters were on a special mission or she was ‘making babies’ with Siryuse.
A deceptively sweet giggle reached his ears and he paled. Perhaps he should have made his wish more defined, as in not guys who acted like girls, but real, fully equipped, necenecessarily human but human shaped, girls.
"Mille?" Carrot croaked as the purple-haired Haz Knight threw his arms about the boy’s neck and snuggled happily against him. Mille Feuille giggled coquettishly and ran a provocative finger down Carrot’s chest despite his vocal protests.
"Did you miss me, dear?" the man purred, tightening his grip upon the hapless Carrot.
"Hell no!"
"That’s rude. I missed you, though." The boy issued a strangled shriek and struggled desperately to free himself from the unwanted embrace.
"Let go of me, you pervert!"
"Now that’s not a vnicenice thing to say to your lover," Mille cooed in mock hurt.
"We are not lovers! Now let me go!"
The Knight rubbed his cheek against the boy’s chest and giggled girlishly. "I’ll let you go under one condition."
"Condition? What condition?" Mille grinned with mischievous glee and caressed Carrot’s cheek. The boy tried to edge away having given up violent demurrals.
"I get a kiss." The Haz Knight giggled again and batted innocent amber eyes up at him. Carrot opened his mouth to tell Mille that he’d rather go to hell first, but then a thought struck him.
"I’ll let you, if you promise not to bother, hug, fondle or etcetera me from now on." The purple-haired man pouted and then he smiled. Carrot felt a spike of unease stab his spleen.
&q">"How about this," Mille countered, "If you don’t enjoy it, I won’t bother you again." He grinned with wicked gaiety. Carrot regarded him with blatant suspicion for a few moments, as he searched for any loopholes. I like girls only, he thought with care, So, since Mille is a guy, I win and I’ll get rid of him to boot. During the time it took for the boy to reason tout out the Knight received a few extra nds nds of uninterrupted cuddling.
"It’s a deal."
The sudden stillness of the Knight caused Carrot to look down. Mille stared at him, face utterly lacking in emotion, and the boy flushed.
The playful teasing and flirtatious manner slipped from the Knight’s effeminate face. In its place the fierceness and carefully controlled heat he only displayed during combat surfaced. Carrot gulped loudly and pressed himself against the cool marble wall at his back, as if he could escape this suddenly unexpected situation.
"Remember, no running this time," the purple-haired man chided, straightening up. Carrot had never realized just how tall Mille Feuille really was and he found the new discovery unnerving. The Haz Knight had always seemed and a so so feminine that Carrot never really considered him entirely in the realm of the masculine.
Reflexively Carrot squeezed his eyes at the first touch of this new, disconcerting Mille’s hands upon his face. A furious hammering thundered in his chest, as his heart attempted to claw its way out. Even with eyes shut he felt the Knight draw closer, warm breath brushing across his own unprotected mouth. A frightened, little whimper escaped, as tinutinutes, hours, days passed and the purple-haired man made no move to eliminate the hairsbreadth between their mouths.
He gasped at the momentary flicker of a moist tongue, the first hint of the waiting invasion. Before his next breath the anticipation was over.
* * *
I stopped dead at the sight that greeted me, as I turned a corner and entered another one of the many marble hall ways in the Stella Church Main Diocese. My vision burned with the image placed before it, even as my mind tried to form a marginally coherent thought. A hitching gasp fled my painfully constricted throat and the blood raged with impotent fury through my fragile veins.
I watched with a sort of surreal detachment as Mille Feuille, current leader of the Haz Knights and Big Mama’s most trusted advisor, kissed my oddly unresisting older brother. I felt my cheeks heat with a burning blush as the full force of the presentation bludgeoned its way into my consciousness. I shouldn’t gawk at such a private moment, but I couldn’t, wouldn’t, look away.
Mille’s larger form blocked most of my view of my brother, but I could see one of his s cls clench and relax spasmodically. It seemed not to know what to do with itself. The Haz Knight solved the problem by running his elegant hands down my brother’s arms and twining his fingers with those of my brother.
A shudder, angry and luscious, flowed through my body and I found myself pressed with my back against the wall, one hand clutching the collar of my robe and the other splayed against the wall. My breath sputtered out in choppy gasps as Mille, never abandoning the sensual kiss, drew my brother’s arms above his head and held them against the wall with one implacable hand. The other hand slid downward; stopping briefly to caress my brother’s flushed cheek and the quivering column of his throat. I watched as that hand, long fingered and elegant in an androgynous way, glided down and tripped coltishly about the hem of my brother’s tunic.
A quiet gasp rose from my brother and myself, as that skilled hand darted up beneath the rough fabric. It was then that I realized my voyeurism did not place me in my brother’s stead and under the Knight’s skillful manipulations. Instead it was I who pulled shudders from the supplicant body of my brother. It was I who massaged his stomach and sought darker treasures in the moist cavity of his mouth.
My head fell back and my lips parted in soft pants, yet I never removed my voracious gaze. I watched as Mille’s hand abandoned the court of my brother’s chest and ventured lower, and I followed in my fantasy. I held my brother in my hand and drew forth sighs and moans with unequaled facility, even as I plundered his unresisting lips. I played him about the brink of ecstasy and release, both the master and slave to our mutual, al dal desire.
The Haz Knight and I licour our way, mine purely imaginative, down my brother’s neck, his heaving chest, releasing his hands to flutter anxiously at his sides, down farther, leaving a wet trail to tell of our passage. I couldn’t continue, couldn’t follow the path to its inevitable, incestuous conclusion. That is right, I told myself even as my beloved brother’s panting groans leeched into my ears, he is my brother and I shouldn’t...
I fastened my gaze upon his face and told myself that such fantasies were not to be thought. He was my brother, my older brother. Yet the look upon his face, a look of almost spiritual ecstasy mixed with the innocent confusion of one still untested in the bedroom, shattered my already shaking resolve. The very sight of his helpless and enraptured visage drove a blade of lust, the kind that hurt in way that was pleasure, deep into my gut.
He shuddered, dark eyes wide, and then his whole body seemed to bend, flex unnaturally. A strange, almost religious stillness filled him and then he threw back his head and howled, howled with the voice of something less, or perhaps more, than human. The sound pierced my ears and drove the frenetic pulse of my blood to a euphoric agony.
I lurched away from the wall and staggered back into the corridor I had exited moments, hours before. I could feel the throb of my own blood throughout the whole of my body and I could hear the slowly fading echoes of my brother’s rapture. As I struggled vainly against the burning fever consuming my mind, I felt a deep, possessive rage seething up from my soul.
I should be the one to bring my brother to such a release. I should be the one to cause him to scream like some inhuman thing.
* * *
Carrot sagged, arms and legs like useless blocks of granite, into Mille’s waiting arms. The purple-haired man issued a deep throated laugh; the kind of masculine laugh that one only uses after bringing his lover to a climax that completely exhausts the recipient. Dimly the boy wondered if he’d ever have a justified reason to make such a laugh. He doubted it, considering his luck with the ladies.
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