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Heretics
By : dualsided
Category: +. to F > D. Gray Man
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Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray-Man and do not make any money off of this.
Chapter List
- 1-Heretics
- 1
I don't live in England. I'm just going by modern day cities/regions and making up street names. No harm intended!

My Fourteenth-muses also tend to like games, for some reason... :|

Title: Heretics
Request: Young Cross/Fourteenth. Angsty!sex. Maybe it's their last time -- the Earl is coming for the Fourteenth and Cross has to get away with the secrets entrusted to him, but they risk one last night together. Or whatever else pleases you.
Summary: A game. In which the loser of the game is the one who loses control-- and kills the other --first. And there is no winner.

Because that's what we all are. Losers.

Heretics

"The Fourteenth had an older brother. There was only one person who was with the Fourteenth up until the moment he betrayed the Earl and was killed. And that was Mana Walker."

That's a lie, Marian.

"When the Fourteenth died, I promised him I'd watch over Mana. If I did, he'd come back to Mana someday."

Why are you doing this?

"You promised me that, Allen."

I am your enemy, Marian..

"..Or should I say.. the 'Fourteenth'?"

When did we become such.. heretics..?

January 1, 1864

TERRORIST ATTACKS DUKE'S MANSION

At exactly 12:00 AM midnight of December 31st, 1863, explosives were set off along the first floor of the Duke's mansion, as well as in his study room on the second floor. The perpetrators have yet to be found. Statements from the Duke and his family have been requested to be withheld.

Two young men were seen fleeing the mansion after the bombing. They are currently boarding with an elderly couple off Aston Avenue. Attempts have been made to speak to them, but...

January 2, 1864

ELDERLY COUPLE FOUND DEAD ON ASTON AVENUE

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were found dead in their home last night by a group of reporters. The police report multiple lacerations; the culprit appears to have tried to set fire to the house, but failed. The boys in their care have also gone missing...

January 3, 1864

DUKE IS FURIOUS

After hearing about the missing children, the Duke demands for them to be found immediately. When questioned about whether the Walkers were connected to the terrorist attack, the Duke refuses to give a statement...

"They're my dear brothers.. You understand, don't you? Foster brothers, but, oh, they are still family... I will always welcome them back with open arms..."

January 10, 1864

A pair of young boys were seen at the edge of Liverpool. Witnesses are unable to pinpoint their exact locations...

January 24, 1864

Evidence suggests that the Duke's mansion was not attacked by a terrorist, but rather by a source from within...

February 29, 1864

PIERROT JOINS HAPPY CHILDREN'S CIRCUS

21-year-old Pierrot Mana Walker makes his debut at the Happy Children's Circus with his younger brother as an assistant. His first show was a hit with all age groups...

March 15, 1864

Duke visits Doncaster and is disappointed to hear that the Pierrot Mana Walker has already joined another circus...

April 1, 1864

APRIL FOOLS FOR DUKE

"Beloved Duke,

We miss you so much. Can we still come home?
Please don't say yes. We miss you.
We miss you. We want to come home,

With love,
the Walkers.

P.S.: April Fool's ♥"

May 27, 1864

Cross blinks, inhaling nothing but the crisp clean air of Yorkshire. He looks up into the teenaged face of a young brown-haired Englishman, currently inhaling on the cigarette he's just pilfered straight out of the Exorcist's mouth.

"Smoking's bad for you."

Cross gives him a dubious frown.

"Says the one who's using a stolen one."

The young man chuckles and inhales once more, blowing a stream of smoke into the air before handing the cigarette back to the red-haired Exorcist. Cross would rather not have an indirect kiss with a stranger, but he'd rather not waste a smoke either. He's only allowed to have so many of them. So he takes it back and inhales�aahh, Nicotine..

"..Say, mate," the man hums, leaning over the back of Cross's chair. The outdoor caf� is deserted at this time of night, and he's rather thankful of that. Less witnesses to see him beat up a stranger for being so forward with him. "My brother and I mean to see an opera, but we have an extra ticket�"

Cross snorts. A opera? He'd rather spend his time in a brothel�he's finally old enough to go in, after all. Sounds more inviting an attending an opera, and with a stranger, no less.

"Not interested."

"Quite sure?" The man�young boy, really, blinks owlishly. Those chocolate eyes hold an eerie glow in them, and Cross wants to stay far away from it. "I mean.. it's free."

"Not. Interested."

Cross doesn't have to look up to know that the man/boy/whatever is gone. Good. At least he knew Cross was a man. The Exorcist would never hear the end of it from his General if he was mistaken for a woman again. He's 18 now! Old enough to look like a man!

..The long hair is probably the source of confusion.

"I told you it was man, Mana."

Cross pauses. That boy/man person. Is talking about him?

"Ah.. I've never seen a man with such long hair, though."

"�You had long hair when you were younger."

"When I was younger. And I was never mistaken for a girl."

A sigh.

"..Let's just give these tickets to someone else, Mana. I don't really feel like watching an opera anymore."

Chairs scrape across cobblestone, the two rise and walk off, and as they pass by Cross's table, he's struck by just how similar they are. This Mana and his.. brother? Twin?

The name strikes a chord in Cross's memory. He reads newspapers sometimes, especially when it concerned the bombing of the Millennium Earl's (or the Duke, as they called him) mansion.

Mana. Mana Walker. The pierrot, Walker, the one the Duke was after, the�

"..Fourteenth."

They freeze. The older one, he assumes it's Mana, grabs the hand of his sibling and starts to pull him away. Cross stands up, flipping his hair over his shoulder to reveal the previously hidden rose cross on his chest.

"Hold it." He's being hasty, he knows. A single Exorcist can't handle a Noah�or can he? "..What's a couple of Noahs like you doing so far from the Earl?"

The reply is not quite what he expects.

"Oh, joy," the younger sibling sniffs in disdain. "I just indirectly kissed an Exorcist."

But they make no move to attack (or answer) him and instead leave. Cross is just a mite ashamed that he hadn't been very aggressive towards them. And just a tiny bit glad. Him, against possibly two Noahs? He'd be lucky if he could even utter a prayer.

And thus was Cross Marian's first meeting (and indirect kiss) with the Fourteenth Noah.

May 30, 1864

"Beloved Duke,

Cambridge is lovely this time of the year. You'll visit us one day, won't you?
You never visit anymore, not since they stopped writing about us in the newspapers.
We'll just have to keep you updated by ourselves, then. Mana says hello.
Why won't you visit us?
Maybe we'll visit you, instead."
---

"Hey."

The Fourteenth pauses after slipping the letter into the mailbox, looking up into the face of the red-haired Exorcist he met a few days ago.

"Oh." He smiles. "Hello~"

To say that Cross is taken aback is, well. An understatement. Is this Noah stupid? Smiling at an Exorcist like that. And with the stigmata in full view, to boot.

"Rather friendly for a Noah, aren't you?"

"Friendly? Oh, no, of course not!" A laugh, so careless and delighted. "..I like to call it confidence."

Cross raises an eyebrow.

"You're only a single Exorcist. What could you do to me?"

As if to prove his point, the Noah leans forward, touches Cross's chin with two fingers, and kisses him quickly. The Exorcist swings an arm to cuff him in the head, but only catches thin air.

Another laugh.

"My brother and I are staying in the hotel down the street, room 14." He chuckles a little at his own joke. "Come pay us a visit sometime~"

Cross snorts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'd be stupid to enter a room with two Noahs in it."

"Silly, silly!" The Fourteenth snickers, waving it off. "Mana isn't a Noah, he's a normal human."

A pat on the cheek (and Cross leans away from the hand at this), and he leaves.

Cross wonders if the Fourteenth maybe had too much to drink. Such a person, a Noah? Well, he does seem a bit.. off. Not right in the head. But, still.

He picks the golem out from his pocket and turns it back on.

"Cross Marian, reporting in."

-"Marian. Did you find out where he's staying?"-

He wants to reply. His duty is to reply with the information he has, but he doesn't want to explain how he obtained it or why it was given to him. So he waits.

"..No, but I just saw him walk into the hotel across the street from where I am right now."

Sure enough, the Noah is strolling right into the hotel he mentioned earlier.

-"Alright. Stand by for the raid."-

"It's a window room on the second floor. Second one from the left."

Where the Noah is waving from. Cross briefly wonders how he got up there so quickly.

-"Got it. Nice job, Marian."-

Ten minutes later, Cross is standing with the others in the alley across from the hotel. His General is further back, using a pair of opera glasses to look into the window.

"They're still in there. Alright, move out. Cross, you know where the room is, you lead the group. I'll wait here in case they jump out the window. I'd like him captured alive, okay?"

The group of three nods and departs, exiting the alley and making an inconspicuous bee-line for the target building. Cross figures the other two don't need to hear what he has to say, but it's best that they're prepared�not to mention they're older than him, anyway. Seniority rules, and all that bullshit.

"There's two people in that room."

"..Two Noahs?"

"One."

"The other?" The eldest of the trio snorts. "An Akuma?"

Cross pauses. "A human."

A pause.

"Lover?"

"No." Cross inhales once more from his cigarette and tosses it into the next garbage can. "Brother."

An unreadable expression passes over both of their faces. Cross can't blame them. A Noah, having a brother? But it's best not to think about that kind of thing. They have their family. We have ours. It's a fight for survival, no matter how you look at it.

"Hurry up, Mana! They're almost here!"

"Hold your horses, I need to put my socks on!"

Cross quickens his pace into a run towards the door from which the muffled voices are coming from, and when he throws it open, all he sees is the Fourteenth, stepping into a rectangle of white with a sock in hand.

The Noah turns to him, smiles, waves, and falls back. There's only a two second gap between the time he arrives at the doorway and when his comrades, the other two Exorcists, show up behind him.

And in that span of time, the teenaged-looking Noah has disappeared into the white rectangle, and it shrinks until it disappears.

Thus was Cross Marian's second meeting (and kiss) with the Fourteenth Noah.

June 1, 1864

The next day, Cross finds himself with an unexpected visitor in his hotel room, a city away from where they last met. He has Judgement out in a second, pointed at the Noah sitting on the bed with his back to the door.

He doesn't even twitch at the sound of a gun being loaded.

"..Y'should've visited earlier, Marian." He speaks with a slur and a heavier accent. The cause of it is the empty bottle of whiskey laying on the bed next to him. "S'not nice to keep a man waitin'."

Cross frowns. He's pretty sure he locked the room and, yes, he still has his key-- just used it, after all.

"How did you get in here?"

The Noah laughs, wavering slightly.

"I made a door, o' course~"

He has no idea what that means-- he assumes it relates to that white rectangle --and doesn't answer. He keeps Judgement steady, aimed at the Noah's head.

An ashen hand rises, holding one of Cross's cigarettes-- the opened pack is lying on the nightstand where he left it. He inhales, holds the breath in, and tilts his head back to exhale a stream of acrid smoke into the air. The Noah keeps his position for a while longer, hair falling over his back and brushing against the crosses on his forehead. He leans back more, turning slightly, until those golden eyes are staring straight at the owner of the room.

"..Do it, Marian. I dare you."

His words are breathy, almost seductive in a way, and Cross has to concentrate and wonder 'what is he talking about?'

"You want to. You know it."

Cross swallows.

"No, I don't."

The Noah smirks, running a tongue over his lips as he tugs at the collar of his white dress shirt with his right hand, moving the cigarette to the left one.

"That's a lie, Marian."

The first button slips open, revealing an inch of gray skin. The second button follows, and the third, and one more. And all the while, that damn smirk won't leave, the gaze holds, and the tongue flicks out again before he speaks.

"You have to."

That line has Cross frozen, and his finger twitches on the trigger. 'Have to'? Have to.. what?

Grinning, the Fourteenth slides off the bed and stands clumsily, leaning back against the wall. He tugs the left side of the shirt off his shoulder so that a good portion of his chest is bared.

"S'your duty, isn't it?" He chuckles at the confused expression on Cross's face, jerking a thumb at his chest, right where his heart is. "Y'gotta kill me, Marian."

Oh. Oh. Right. KIll him.

"Or, is there, perhaps.." The thumb presses down as he speaks, and the fingers follow, dancing down the Noah's chest in a mesmerizing way. More buttons fall apart, one by one, until the entire shirt is unbuttoned, and his fingers skitter over lightly toned abs and past the dip of his naval. The gray hand comes to a rest just above the waistband of his pants, fingering the hem for a brief moment before hooking a thumb into a beltloop and tugging gently down on it. "..something else you wanted to do..?"

Cross swallows, taking a small step forward. He doesn't let go of the gun, though, and the Noah's smile widens at that.

"Well?" He nearly purrs, leaning slightly forward. The thumb in the beltloop gives another jerk to expose one of his hips, and Cross nearly blanches at the thought of 'no underwear?' "..Is there?"

The pants are pulled down another half an inch, and before the Exorcist can even open his mouth to answer, there's a shout from outside.

"Marian! Akuma!"

Cross makes the mistake of turning around, but then turns back to face the Noah quickly enough. The smile is gone, replaced by a mix of surprise, fear, and annoyance. White light flashes, and the rectangle appears just behind the Fourteenth. He hikes up his pants and falls through, and the rectangle shrinks and disappears just before a level 1 Akuma crashes a hole in the wall where he was just a second ago.

Cursing his luck (and his semi-hard erection, which dies quickly enough), Cross aims Judgement at the Akuma instead, and fires.

---
"April showers bring May flowers.
But May bees do not fly in June.
We won't visit you ever again.

I found ~~something~~ someone else to keep me occupied.

♥"

June 6, 1864

"Who is it, you ask?
Well, that's extremely simple, but I won't tell you. It's a secret, dearest Earl.
But do know that it will keep me far too busy to even think of trying to kill you.

For now, at least."
---

Mailboxes are so conveniently placed.

The one that the Noah is at right now is located directly across from the hotel room that Cross Marian is staying in-- don't ask how he knows that, he just does.

The Fourteenth brings his head up and catches the Exorcist looking down from the window. He smiles. Cross looks away, and the Noah laughs to himself as he crosses the street, heading for the hotel. He gives the receptionist a smile and a greeting, holding back the Noah features until he reaches Cross's room.

He fixes the ribbon around his neck and knocks on the door, once, twice, three times. From inside, there is an answering, noncommittal grunt.

"..Who is it?"

The Noah chuckles.

"Open the door, Marian," he hums, tapping on the doorknob. "Or else I'll force it open."

"I have a gun. It's loaded, and there's an unlimited amount of bullets."

"So cruel, so cruel." Fourteenth shakes his head and taps into the power of the Musician again, stepping into the white rectangle that rises out of the floor before him. A few more steps, and he's walking out of the white corridor and into Cross's hotel room.

The Innocence is already aimed at his head before the 'door' can close. He laughs it off.

"Are you finally going to do it this time?" The Noah smirks tauntingly, a hand just barely resting on his hip-- the one that Cross remembers seeing less than a week ago. The other hand is slowly untying the scarlet ribbon wrapped around his neck, dropping it to the floor once it's off. "I didn't have any whiskey, so I'm afraid I won't be as.. compliant.. as before."

..The way he says it suggests so much.

"Shall we start again from where we left off?"

Cross blames the way the Noah is slowly unbuttoning his shirt again, pulling the left side open once more to lay his shoulder bare, for making his pants uncomfortably tight.

He also blames the wine he had earlier for making him enjoy the sight of the Fourteenth's naked skin.

"I knew you wanted to~" The Noah croons, noting the slight shift in Cross's stance. "Kill me, that is. We're enemies, right? You're supposed to kill me."

Yeah. Kill him.

Not imagine what kind of expression he'd make if he were being fucked into the nearest wall.

"I could say the same for you, Noah," Cross manages to utter through a clenched jaw. "You're not putting up much of a fight."

"Oh. Well, that's because I'm playing a game, see?" The Noah grins, hooking both thumbs into the loops on either side of his pants and tugging at them. Yes, Cross does see-- that the Fourteenth is, once again, lacking modesty (and underwear, but let's not mention that) --and he refuses to admit that he's admiring the view. "If I kill you, I lose. And I do so detest losing at games, Marian."

The Fourteenth shifts a step closer, tossing a lock of brown hair over his shoulder. His hips sway just a bit, enough to draw Cross's attention to them and away from his head where Judgement is aimed at. He walks much like a woman does, Cross notes. Not as pronounced, but it's there.

Odd.

"So, in order to make you lose..." The dangerous grin is back, even as the pants drop lower, still clinging stubbornly to those almost gray-skinned hips, and fuck, Cross wants to just grab them and yank them all the way down and-- "..I'm going to do whatever I can to get you to kill me."

The Exorcist curses under his breath. Really, the only thing holding him back from doing anything right now is the fact that he's an Exorcist, and this is his enemy, the one he should be killing. He shouldn't be thinking of the numerous ways to make this Noah writhe and scream in bed.

"And you figure trying to get into my pants will do the trick?"

"Oh, no, of course not." The Noah hums, leaning back against the wall once more, and Cross has a brief moment of deja vu. The Fourteenth sends him a heated look, and when he gives those pants yet another tug, Cross can practically see the few strands of dark curls peeking over the waistband. "I'm trying to get you into my pants."

Cross doesn't really see the difference. He's beginning to think that the Noah really isn't right in the head.

"Sorry," Cross drawls, tilting the gun just a bit so that it's inconspicuously aimed down there. "I only go for people of the opposite gender."

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again." The Noah snorts, unhooking a thumb to pop open the button holding his pants together. Now, the only thing in the way is a zipper. "That's a bloody fucking lie, Marian."

For a moment, Cross is somewhat smug of the fact that his hungry gaze is forcing a blush onto the Fourteenth's face.

"..How the hell would you know?"

But his legs are already carrying him closer, and he tells himself that he's only going in for the kill, for better aim, to ensure that he doesn't miss his target. He doesn't want to be the one to initiate anything, though it seems like the Noah has done more than his fair share of work as it is.

"Because. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Clearly not enough of his share, as proven by the hands that detach themselves from their owner's pants long enough to drag the Exorcist closer for a harsh, bruising kiss-- with the Noah on the receiving end, of course.

Cross has Judgement lodged under the fifth rib from the bottom, pressing into the clothed side with urgency. With his other hand, Cross yanks those offending pants down (fuck the zipper, it could break for all he cared), wrapping his fingers around the heated length and giving it a good, angry, jerk-- one that forces those irritable hips up against his own.

"Don't fucking dare try anything," he snarls against the Noah's lips, digging the gun in harder. The Fourteenth lets out a soft gasp at the faint burning sensation, and Cross seizes this chance to plunder the open mouth with his tongue.

The kiss doesn't last long, and once Cross retreats, uses both his free hand and the threat of Judgement to turn the Noah so he's facing the wall.

"..Wouldn't dream of it."

Cross blinks a moment before realizing that it's a response to his threat. He snorts, looping his arm under the Noah's and pressing Judgement against his neck instead. The Noah lets out another strangled sound, trying to tilt his head away from the Innocence. Cross just shoves it harder through the collar of his shirt, relishing in the pained, shuddering whimper.

But only because this is the enemy. Cross refuses to lose to a Noah.

So he unbuckles his own belt, tugs his pants and boxers down, and pushes into the already lubricated entrance.

"..You prepared for this, didn't you?" Cross mutters shakily into the Fourteenth's hair, holding his hips still as he sinks deeper into the heat surrounding him.

His only reply comes in the form of the Noah's tense and arching back, the way he pushes himself back onto Cross's surprisingly hard shaft with a moan, the way his legs shift further apart, and the way he bucks with a hiss into the hand stroking his length.

"Yesss..."

June 18, 1864

"You're right, Earl.
It was never meant to be.
But then again, most things just aren't meant to be.
Just like you and me."

--

Taboo.

That's what this is. It shouldn't happen. Shouldn't. But could.

And while the Fourteenth has nothing against sodomy, he wonders what God must think of his disciple right now.

The game has been fun over the past almost-two-weeks. Timely encounters coupled with well-placed glasses of wine have made for a useful distraction from the every day life of the Fourteenth Noah. But the Noah, in spite of all his cockiness, arrogance, haughty-ish exterior, fails to see what Cross gets out of these meetings, if not merely ridding himself of sexual tension.

"Why do you do this?"

But just like the first time he asked, the second, and the third, Cross does not answer. All he does is pull the covers back and kiss him, settling down between the Noah's bare thighs. It's a rare move. The Fourteenth does not usually stay after the first round, and Cross never pays attention if he does. Usually.

Usually.

Is it love?

What is love?

He doesn't know.

"Why?" The Fourteenth hisses, nails digging into Cross's back as the Exorcists presses forward, presses into him. His lithe form arches upward with a soundless groan, trembling with strain at the feeling of being stretched. "Why?"

He only receives a grunt in reply.

"..Aren't we supposed to kill each other?"

Cross snaps forward roughly, and the Fourteenth lets out a satisfied moan, twisting into the Exorcist's burning touch. Bare fingers ghost down his sides and clamp around his hips, pulling him closer, and he gasps and bucks up into the pressure.

"You're asking me that now?"

August 31, 1864

"Because I love my brother.
More than I'll ever love you.
More than I'll ever love anyone else.

That's why I left you, Earl."

--

"Marian."

-"--..Who was that, Marian?"-

The Exorcist looks up with a frown.

"..It's nothing. Just the shopkeeper," he replies into the golem. "Is that all, General? If so, I'll be going now."

Cross turns off the communication device and gestures for the Noah-in-disguise to take a seat. He doesn't. Cross raises an eyebrow.

"..I need to ask you something."

"You're still asking that?"

The Fourteenth purses his lips together. "You don't even know what I'm going to ask you."

"Then ask."

He shakes his head.

"Not here. Somewhere else. Alone."

For reasons the Noah cannot even fathom, Cross agrees. In 2 minutes, they're ducking into a back alley, heading for the nearest, remotely decent hotel. In another 5 minutes, they're in a room, and the door is locked.

"Why, Marian?" The Fourteenth repeats. "Why won't you kill me?"

Silence, save for the Noah's receding footsteps.

"Why? I am your enemy, Marian. Enemy! Foe! Opponent! Enemy!"

"I know what I enemy is, Fourteenth," Cross snarls, biting down his cigarette impatiently. "What did you want to talk about?"

The Noah rounds on him, and for a moment, he looks almost in tears. Frustrated. Exhausted.

"Why won't you kill me?!"

At the end of his wits.

The Fourteenth stalks towards him, menacing, tired, but Cross doesn't move. His hands lash out to grab the lapels of Cross's coat, and Judgement's barrel is nudging at his chocolate-colored hair. He yanks the Exorcist forward and kisses him, hard, brutal, fierce, and he's pushing him back, glaring through his bangs, disregarding the Innocence ready to blow his brains out.

The back of Cross's knees hit the edge of the bed, and the Noah lunges, shoving the taller man down, twisting his tongue past the other's lips. The Fourteenth clambers onto the bed to straddle his hips, his eyes are closed, shut tight, as their tongues battle for-- for victory. It's never a battle for dominance. Noahs and Exorcists cannot dominate each other. They have to fight, they have to kill.

But they can't, because then they'll lose the game.

The gun is still there, and the Noah backs up with a small lick at the corner of Cross's mouth, as if to apologize for the earlier roughness. Judgement does not relent, but neither will the Fourteenth.

Bruised red is a good color on Cross's lips.

He whispers, "why won't you kill me?"

Because he does not understand.

"I am your enemy, Marian."

An Exorcist's job is to battle the Noah, the Akuma, the enemy.

"So why won't you just bloody kill me?!"

That part, he yells, he cries out, loudly, and buries his face in the crook of the shocked Exorcist's neck. Cross does not reply, because he does not know what to say. What could he say? What is the right answer? What is the answer?

This game will be the death of him someday. That was the thought he had in mind the day he decided to start playing it of his own accord.

"..I'm going to die soon, Marian."

The words are uttered to so evenly that the redhead tenses. The Noah's lips rest against his pulse, mouthing and sucking at it, almost pleadingly.

"I betrayed the Earl." A hot tongue trails up the tendon in his neck, from his collar to his jaw. "I tried to kill him."

A nip at his chin, and a content sound as a hand cards through his coarse brown locks and yanks his head back.

"..And now he wants to kill me."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, pupils slitted and gazing down almost contemptuously at the Exorcist beneath him. But when Cross's mouth closes over that lump, his breath hitches, and he swallows again.

"I have his secrets, Marian. And I'm going to entrust them to you."

And of course, Cross just has to pull back and stare in disbelief.

"Why the hell would you do something like that?"

The Fourteenth smiles, coy and almost regretful.

"Because I want that fat-ass to die, no matter what the cost."

He leans down, kisses the man again, and proceeds to whisper those secrets shakily into Cross's ear as he divests himself of his own clothes.

September 29, 1864

This time, it's Cross who has a handful of the Fourteenth's dress shirt and is forcing him up against the inside of an abandoned liquor store. His rapier is drawn, but the hand is pinned at his side by the redhead's forceful grip. The rest of town is empty; the Akuma attack earlier has cleared it out, which is what the Exorcist is here to take care of.

His breath wafts over the Fourteenth's face, and he briefly notices the lack of a cigarette, the lack of wine, and, curiously enough, the lack of women's parfum that is usually clinging to the Exorcist's hair and clothes.

"..Funny. I don't remember any Noahs mentioned in the report."

"Of course not," the Noah replies softly, itching to just dart forward and capture those lips one last time. "Finders seem to think anyone running from an Akuma is a mere civilian."

"Hn. I find it hard to believe that you would run from an Akuma."

"I have to. I have to run." That tone, the helplessness that Cross remembers hearing from a month ago, it's back. "I have no choice."

The Akuma, they are the Earl's hands, they are his feet, his eyes. He sees what they see.

"If they see me, the Earl will come, and I will die."

Cross snarls, teeth bared, pressing himself flush against the Noah's trapped form. His face is so close, so close--

"If you're so afraid of death, you shouldn't have tried to kill him."

--but he has to hold back, because as much as the Fourteenth wants just one last display of.. of affection, of attraction, whatever-- he can't. He can't have it.

Because this is just a game. And he's so fucking close to winning right now.

"If I was so afraid of death, I wouldn't have let him live."

He knows he probably isn't making any sense, he knows, it's how he's always been, but it's never been this bad. Or maybe it has. It must've had something to do with living under the same room as the Earl for so long. He always was so caring, after all...

"You're talking nonsense again, Fourteenth."

He shakes his head slowly.

"No. No, no nonsense, never nonsense, never, never never never--"

Cross's mouth swallows the rest of it, silencing him with a rough, impromptu kiss. The Fourteenth welcomes it wholeheartedly, parting his lips for the slick appendage to worm its way in and rub against his own tongue in a tantalizingly slow fashion.

It's so easy to get lost in the kiss, to believe that does feel something for him, or perhaps that he doesn't feel anything for him-- it's easy.

All he has to do is throw caution to the wind.

And the Fourteenth's been doing that for the majority of his life, anyway.

All too soon, the mouth is retreating and moving down to his neck, murmuring discontentedly along the way.

"No more nonsense."

The timbre leaves shivers on his skin. He brings up his other hand, the unrestrained one, and slides it through the red curtain of hair, pulling Marian closer as he tilts his own chin back with a bitten-down groan.

"No more nonsense," the Noah repeats in a rough whisper. He catches the underlying meaning and he can't help but admit (to himself, of course) that it brings him a sense of serenity, to know that someone understands him, if only a little bit. "...Marian?"

The Exorcist makes a noncommittal grunt in reply and scrapes his teeth over ashen skin, nipping and sucking at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The Fourteenth's breathing goes a little shallow at that and, for a moment, he forgets what he was about to ask.

"What?"

In the end, he decides it isn't worth trying to remember.

"...Forgot."

Cross scoffs and releases his grip on the shirt in order to unbutton it. The Fourteenth makes a soft hum and drops the rapier to the side, wriggling both hands away in order to help with that, deftly removing the buttons from their holes with practiced flicks. He shivers once his shirt falls open to the cool London air, and that shivering turns into a violent tremor as the Exorcist darts forward and immediately latches onto a dusky, ashen nipple, laving over it with a wet tongue before taking it between his teeth and tugging earnestly.

The sudden movement and sensation nearly turns his legs to jelly, his stance falters with a soft gasp. It's uncommon for Cross to ever participate in foreplay, and the Fourteenth is the same. While he has slept with a woman or two, he's never had the attention so focused on himself.

The Noah drapes his arms over Cross's shoulders as he's lowered to the ground and hooks his ankles behind the Exorcist's waist. Cross is already making short work of his pants, and for the brief moment that his hand is pressing against the bulge, the only thing the Fourteenth can think of is that hand and that mouth.

And when that hand leaves to pull his pants off, he hisses at the cold air hitting his erection and the wooden floorboards underneath him. The hiss soon dissolves into a choked groan as a hot hand wraps around him, touching him in such an intimate way that he can't help the flush rising to his cheeks.

While that one hand keeps the Fourteenth more or less occupied for the time being, Marian's other hand is going through the pockets of his coat and his pants. He pats himself down until finally procuring a small bottle of some kind of liquid. His vision is too hazy to actually discern what's in the bottle, and Marian won't hold it still long enough for him to attempt to read the label.

"Wh-what.." the Noah heaves quick, shallow breaths, letting out a whine when the hand stops its movements. "..What's that for?"

"This is our last time," Marian replies gruffly and with a slight sense of disappointment. After a pause, he continues. "..Figured I'd try and make it as painless as possible."

The Fourteenth wasn't expecting an answer, let alone the one he received. And, really?

He doesn't like that answer.

His hands, ashen and gray, drop down to Cross's waist and immediately start unbuckling the leather belt with haste.

"Hey-- hey!" Cross barks, letting go of his length to bat the hands away. "What's the damn rush?!"

"I--" The Noah stops himself before he gives it away. "--I'm going to die any minute, that's the rush."

"Don't lie to me, Fourteenth," the Exorcist growls out, fisting the Noah's length again and giving it a good, firm stroke from base to tip. "What's the rush?"

That touch has him in a daze, he's trying not to gape like a drowning fish, begging for air in quick, shallow gasps as the burn spreads from his groin to the very tips of his fingers, and he hates the amount of control the Exorcist has right now. Hates it. But only because he is a Noah, the sworn enemy, the one he has to kill, an Exorcist should not control me--

another jerk, a stroke, a thumb presses over the slit-- and he moans

--but God be damned because it feels so good.

"I.." He tries again, panting, gasping, and they haven't even started yet so why is he so-- out of breath? "..I don't want it to be painless."

Cross frowns at him, trying to read the expression on the Noah's face. Pleased, aroused, tempting, but--

--but there's that hint in his eyes, a glint, a streak of something not quite there, something that reminds him that he's dealing with a Noah, not a normal person.

Why?

The question is clear in his eyes, but the Noah shakes his head, unable to put his thoughts into words, unwilling to put them into words, unwilling to share-- he just leaves Marian's fly unzipped, untouched, reaches up, and pulls him in for another kiss. There's no time to take their sweet time with. No time.

But he may as well entertain the Exorcist for a little bit longer.

"..Just do it. Hurry."

Whether Cross misunderstands him or just isn't listening, he doesn't know. The Fourteenth has given up trying to argue, he simply arches his hips against the slicked fingers plunging into him. Sparks of pain light up along his spine for all of a brief second, he forces himself to relax, and when those fingers sink deeper in quick scissoring motions, he thrusts his tongue against the one invading his mouth.

Two fingers become three, and at that point he's letting out strangled groans and moans and whimpers and just hurry, please hurry.

By the time Cross is finally inside, the Noah is flushed and panting, thighs quivering, because the stretching is never enough to ready him for Marian's size.

But this isn't the first time, it isn't the second, or the third, or the fourth. He's lost count of how many times they've lain together, how many times they've done this. How many times they've come so close to finishing this game, only to prolong it, if only for just a little bit longer.

"Why me?" Cross hisses into the Noah's ear, strained, groaning as he starts up the rhythm he's always used with the Fourteenth. The Noah's entire body shivers, and he digs blunt nails into Cross's shoulders. "Why the fucking hell did you have to pick me?"

The Fourteenth's ragged breathing is enough to convey that he doesn't want to talk right now, that he isn't able to, but Cross doesn't care. It's hard to concentrate on talking, but this may well be the one last time he can say anything to the damn traitorous Noah.

Although, when the Fourteenth arches up into him and those muscles clamp down around his length, Cross can't blame the Noah for not wanting to talk.

Unlike the previous times, this time is different. It's frantic, needy, with an edge of�of something he can't describe, not yet. It's not until the Fourteenth starts up another mantra of hurry, please hurry, faster, hurry that it clicks.

Desperate.

Desperate.

So Cross pushes the Noah's thighs up in a lewd position, leans forward, and fucks him harder and faster-- because this is not lovemaking, this is not just sex even though it is. Making love would not include doing it up against the wall of an abandoned liquor store. Just sex would not make the Fourteenth writhe the way he's doing now, would not make him cry out and moan with every thrust.

Only a simple fuck would do things like that, make him convulse, make his hips buck up in time with Cross's every in and out, every push and pull, because he's never acted like this before�

but hasn't it always been this way? their relationship, there is no relationship, it's never been anything but a fucking game, why does this time feel so different

--the only disappointing thing Cross can pinpoint is the fact that he climaxes like a fucking ninja (or some other Victorian equivalent of a ninja). A gasping cry that blends in the rest of his sounds, a twitch that feels like a simple spasm, and he spills into Cross's hand with a shudder. Though, really, that cry could also be because of Cross biting into his shoulder to stifle his own moan, as the coil in his gut springs loose at the same time.

It's just like the first time, the way his arms are draped over Cross's shoulders, panting into the crook of his neck. He hates it. So he breaks the silence.

"..Why me?"

Now, the Noah seems more willing to speak, if not a tad more lost than Cross has ever seen him. It's an odd state that the Fourteenth is in, one that he goes through after every climax. Cross figures he can get more answers if the Noah is out of it.

"..Wanna die.. not.. Earl.." the Fourteenth mumbles, shifting slightly. "Exorcist.. kill me.."

Cross pulls out, using a dropped dishrag (it looks clean enough) to clean them both up while the Noah is still getting out of that state he's in.

"Innocence.. bring Akuma.. salvation.. kill them.." he mutters some more, leaning forward and up to pull his pants back onto his hips with slow, sure motions. The Fourteenth turns his eyes to the Exorcist almost imploringly, staring straight down the barrel of the gun. "..can bring salvation.. Noahs, too?"

He makes sense, just barely, enough that Cross understands what the Noah wants him to do. But he'll be damned if he does something because a Noah tells him to.

"You don't deserve salvation."

Silence.

Then.

It starts out as a giggle, a little, childish one. That turns into a soft chuckling, like a parent looking at pictures of their child after the son has grown up and gone to war. Then, into a louder chortling, like he'd just heard the best damn joke in the whole damn world. And pretty soon--

--Pretty soon, the Noah is laughing his head off, cackling mirthlessly, his head bowed forward as a hand comes up to rest over his face, covering his eyes from view. Cross knows they're still wide open, glowing with an ominous shimmer of ocher, and his lips are curled back into a sneer to reveal his canines as he laughs manically, unhinged.

"Of course." The Fourteenth hacks out, still convulsing with laughter. "Of course. Of course, of course, of course of course of course!"

Cross fails to see what's so funny, but it doesn't seem like there's any reason behind the sudden laughter-- or so he thinks. And that thought is further reinforced when the cackling stops just as suddenly as it started.

"..I'm such an idiot for asking salvation from a disciple of that fake God." Seething, the Noah's hands drop to the ground, clenching unconsciously over the drops of sweat and congealed liquid.

"You didn't let me finish, fucking Noah." Cross huffs, cocking the gun once more as he aims it at the Fourteenth's head. "You don't deserve salvation.. but I'll give it to you anyway."

After a moment of silence, the Noah looks up with a soft smile. Cross is ready to believe that this man has issues-- probably related to having a human(?) for a brother, the Earl has a foster father/brother(?) of sorts, Noahs as siblings(?), and an Exorcist as a lover(?).

"That's a lie, Marian. And you know it."

"It's not." Damn, he wishes he had his cigarettes now. "I'm going to kill you. And you're going to be saved and go to Heaven, or some shit like that."

The Noah shakes his head slowly.

"..When did we become such.. heretics..?"

For some reason, Cross hesitates to pull the trigger. He's trying, dammit, he really is, and he knows Judgement wants to fire, too, but..

"..Take care of Mana for me, Cross." Before he can blink, the Fourteenth has pulled him close for another kiss, completely bypassing the raised Innocence. "I'll come back for him. And for you. I promise."

What happens next is too much for him to comprehend. Cross thinks he's blocked out some of it, or maybe he really just can't remember anything beyond the burst of adrenaline as the aforementioned brother dashes into the doorway of the liquor store and sees them.

"BROTHER--!"

And the shout goes right over his head, because the Fourteenth is whispering again, I promise, I promise, watch him, protect him, I'll come back I promise I promise I promise and he's shoving Cross away, hard, expression twisted into that of agony as the black and white sword cleaves through the wall behind him.

Cross doesn't back up quick enough, and the tip of the blade catches him in the eye. Blood splashes and decorates the floor a marvelous red, but it's nothing compared to the black that spills from the Noah in front of him. The lump of metal digs into the Fourteenth's shoulder, going through it cleanly like a knife through butter, and it sinks in, deeper, separating his left arm and a good portion of his shoulder, torso, waist, and cutting into his left leg in the process.

Mana is rushing forward, eyes wide in horror and shock and tears, and Cross just barely registers the Noah's deafening scream, so unlike the ones he makes in bed, of pain and agony and god he doesn't want to die, not at the hands of his bastard man--

He manages to get one arm around Mana's shoulders, hauling him back and into the white rectangle-- polygon, he corrects himself, it's a polygon --leaving a red trail of blood down the right side of his face and all along the floor, the traitorous Fourteenth Noah's agonizing screams and last words echoing in his head...

...When did we become such.. heretics..?

A human whose brother is a Noah, a Noah who tries to kill the Earl, an Exorcist who sleeps with the Noah and won't kill him, and the Earl who despises and kills his own family...

...In the end, there is no winner.

Because heretics don't get to win.

Fic/one-shot written for a request on dgmkinkmeme.

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Heretics	By : dualsided Category: +. to F > D. Gray Man Views: 1310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray-Man and do not make any money off of this.

Heretics