My second written lemon ever. I'm still not particularly comfortable writing this kind of thing, but I'm plenty old enough to be here, at least. I consider citrus a challenge, since I'm not terribly familiar with it, and slowly hope to improve. Despite that, I hope you can enjoy my writing. ;

This was actually originally just a small fic on its own and didn't involve citrus or lemon at all. However, due to a review I got for this piece in particular, I thought I would expand it, since it could very clearly go further than I originally took it. That's right, folks. This is NC-17 Fakir/Ahiru smut material and I'm not kidding.

...And I blame part of writing this on the insane amount of Japanese fanart that there is for the Fakir/Ahiru pairing, many of which are a bit...suggestive, to say the least. (They corrupted me! I swear!) Well...that and various doujinshi that perv-ed them up. XD ...It's hard to think of them with an innocent relationship anymore.

As a final warning, if you don't like Fakir being forward and assertive, I suggest you avoid this.

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all of its characters are not mine.

Dedication/Blame: To Astrobright/Kris for stumbling upon this...somewhere else, and convincing me to post it. XD The blame is all yours!





The tip of the quill came clean off, broken from the pressure exerted upon it by a less-than-pleased dark-haired writer.

"Dammit," Fakir growled, whirling around in his chair to send an irritated glare to the one responsible for his now-busted quill. Ahiru was sitting innocently on the floor about ten paces behind him, legs spread and arms bent over her left leg. "Go make noise somewhere else!"

She frowned back, a small pout on her lips. "You have to be the only person alive who could find the sound of stretching so disturbing."

"Why are you even in here? Can't you see I'm trying to write?"

Her reddish-colored braid fell to one side as she tilted her head to smile in his direction. "I thought I would keep you company while I warmed up."

"I don't want company," he grumbled, fidgeting with another quill tip to replace his "accident". "You're ruining my concentration."

"What are you writing?"

"A story."

"About what?"

"Stop asking questions."

She challenged his glare, sticking her tongue out in retaliation, like a child might.

Fakir blinked. He occasionally mused she still was like a child in some ways. Ahiru was as petite as a young woman could get, still had those large and ever-curious sky blue eyes, still held mannerisms such as turning from a sobbing mess to being bright and energetic again at the drop of a hat, and vice versa. Even now, she was mimicking his expression in a very exaggerated way.

The ex-knight sighed. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

She immediately detected victory by the sound of that defeated breath and smiled. "You won't even know I'm here."

He gave her a very skeptical look and turned his attention back to the abandoned writing.

Ahiru paused before continuing her body warm-ups, her gaze finding the young man's back. The tail of his forest green hair was resting against his white shirt, the latter of which was a little wrinkled due to being scrunched against the back of the wooden chair. She felt her cheeks heat a little.

Somehow he looked remarkably attractive with his strong back pressed up against the chair like that, shoulder muscles tensing with the movements of his arms and hands as he replaced the broken quill tip. Even from what little she could actually see of him from her viewpoint below, Ahiru couldn't deny that she liked the view. It reminded her of the time he'd just gotten out of the shower and...

Abruptly realizing she was simply staring and not stretching, the duck-girl muffled a "quack" behind her hand and immediately averted her gaze to the floor, hastily continuing her forgotten exercises. She tried to keep in mind to go through the formations as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the easily-annoyed Fakir. Why would she be thinking such absurd things about him, anyway?

And he still hadn't written a single word, even though the new tip was resting securely on the quill, which was leaning against the paper's surface. However, the off-white paper was already stained in two different places, puddles of half-dried black ink blotching out the tan color.

Fakir dipped the writing utensil into the ink well for a third time, poising it over another clean area. The hand readied to write and then stilled in midair, just centimeters above the parchment surface.

He could hear her quickened breathing pattern from behind him, clear enough that it were as though she was close enough to be breathing right into his ear. The image of her performing such an action came unbidden to his mind, teasing him before he could prevent it and his lower body tensed with the first stirrings of arousal.

'Oh God,' he jammed his eyes shut. 'Not those thoughts again.'

Just the night before, she been caught out in the rain and come in soaked from head to toe, blissfully unaware of what she was displaying through her clingy white dress and leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. He'd made an immediate excuse not to see her for the rest of the evening and drowned himself in an hour-long cold shower. And still, that indecent, enticing image of her remained engraved in his mind: Lithe body wrapped in drenched white cotton, pert nipples peeking enticingly through the fabric, small white panties visible and trapped beneath the taught wet covering... If he had run across her again that night there was no way he would have been able to control himself from the unbearable desire to take her for his own.

Ink fell from the quill, soundless drops landing and slowly spreading their dark color into the grains.

Another soft noise. An unidentifiable sound, like a cross between a whine and moan. Not at all uncommon during stretching and taxing your muscles.The ex-knight could imagine how she looked just then, arms bent in a long arc, expression taught with determination and focus, strands of red hair falling loose from their bond and clinging to her pale, inviting neck. He swallowed.

Drip, drip, drip.

Fakir dropped the quill down to the desk and rolled up his sleeves, suddenly finding it a lot warmer than it had been a few minutes beforehand. How was she managing to turn him on all over again just by being in the same room?

She froze, startled by the abrupt and sharp movement, but when he made no move to reprimand her, Ahiru diligently continued her stretching. Her blue eyes glanced up at him every few moments, perhaps unconsciously. She thought he seemed a little over-stressed for just some simple writing.

Further unbuttoning the top two clasps on his shirt in attempt to cool himself down, Fakir reached for the fallen feather-quill and repositioned it to the waiting blank area on the paper.

He paused, and his ears caught wind of a particularly sharp intake of breath from Ahiru. As if triggered by the soft sound, the quilltip hit the paper and streaked one large, jagged black line across the page.

"Damn it!"

The frustration-ridden yell, accompanied by the crash of Fakir's chair as it clattered to the floorboards, abruptly startled the unsuspecting Ahiru out of her practices, causing her to fall backward in surprise. She caught herself with her arms against the wood behind her just before she could hit the floor and sent a baffled stare to Fakir's back.

As far as she could tell, she'd been quiet as a mouse. What had set him off?

Fakir was still facing away from her, gripping the edges of his desk with both hands. "Are you incapable of being silent?"

His words were calm and barely spoken above a whisper, but she felt an underlying lack of patience in them and swallowed.

"You're impossible," he continued, fingers curling and gripping the wooden desk's unsanded edge. "I can't get a moment's peace when you're in the same room."

"I was making as little noise as possible," she offered meekly.

The redhead nearly jumped when he turned sharply to face her, as though provoked to action by her words. And for a moment, he just stared at her in silence. Then his brows knit together, expression growing dark and becoming further shadowed by his long bangs as he took a step toward her leotard-clad figure.

"Do you have any idea just how distracting you are?"

The speech was soft and even, but she somehow felt like he had just issued a threat instead of a question.

"Fakir, don't get angry," she blinked her broad azure eyes up at him in growing remorse. "I didn't really think you were serious about my presence messing up your writing."

He didn't reply, but instead took another couple of paces closer, dark green eyes still focused upon her face. She rose to her feet. "I thought you were just being your usual grumpy and irritable self. You know, like when you call me an idiot daily, and..."

The ex-knight's approach hadn't ceased during her talk and Ahiru was forced to start backing up to keep the distance. "-And when you insult my cooking and lack of grace, you, you know you'" she trailed off, getting lost in his intense emerald gaze.

Her retreat was cut short when her back hit the wall and she bit the edge of her lip nervously, feeling as though she were being sucked into the depths of his dark eyes. "...Why are you looking at me like that?"

Fakir raised a hand to her face and tilted her small chin up to meet his gaze more directly. "It's your fault for distracting me," he replied huskily.

And without warning, his free hand slipped around Ahiru's waist and hoisted her lithe form into the air, cradling her body up against him as his mouth claimed hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise before it could even leave her lips. His kiss was strong, leaving her no room to catch her breath or retaliate against his demand. She felt herself give in, drowning in his touch and responding slowly with inexperience.

It was rare for him to show such an emotion or behave in this manner. Already they'd been living together in his small lakeside cabin for a couple years. He was usually quiet and withdrawn, faithfully using his power of connecting story and reality to write the Kinkan villagefolk's tales as he said he'd do, keeping their lives free of tragedy. He had written a story for her too, of course. She hadn't forgotten that.

But the way he was kissing her now, the hand held tight against her waist, and the other pressed against her cheek, seemed to speak of some hidden desire or longing he'd been holding back. There was unspoken desperation in his touch.

When had he felt something like this for her? Ahiru was puzzled. Just the night before, he'd called her a moron for tracking so much water into the house and locked himself up in his room without another word. Even now as her own hands rose, one wrapping around his neck, the other brushing gentle fingertips against the fabric covering his chest, she could not recall any indications of him feeling more than friendship toward her.

All interactions between them had either consisted of petty fights and bantering, or the calming silence of just enjoying one another's presence by a crackling fire on a cold night. Even when she had insisted on talking with him, or giving his shoulders a good rub after a particularly long period of writing, he never responded in any way beyond the "Fakir" way. Nothing like...

Nothing like this.

This was sheer insanity.

All she'd been doing beforehand were some simple warm-ups before she practiced ballet. Making as little noise as she could. Not even touching him.

True, she'd been adamant on not leaving the room when he'd asked, but this method of retaliation didn't fit the Fakir she knew.

The train of her rapid thoughts was shattered when he suddenly parted his lips to release hers. Ahiru's voice longed to speak the questions of her mind, but the loss of contact lasted for no more than a second, just enough time to take a much-needed breath, before he dove in again, searching, tasting, and burning the very surface of her swollen lips. His significantly taller figure had also managed to effectively imprison her between himself the solid barrier behind her.

Ahiru couldn't see it before, but she could feel it now, to the very tips of her airborne toes. Fakir felt strongly for her. What his words would never say was being spoken by his body instead.

How could she have been so blind?

The quiet, intense stares, the abrupt and often rude retractions from her laying her hands on him in any manner...

It made sense now. He was refusing to acknowledge, even to himself, that he felt anything for her. He had pushed her away and become a slave to his writing to avoid having to face it.

The invisible hand clamping over her heart loosened its grip. He'd really been shrugging off her affections and kind words due to his own stubbornness, and not because he disliked her.

It filled Ahiru with a joy she couldn't express in words. Not that words mattered anymore. Smiling against his lips, she pushed back to meet him, the hand behind his head curling up into his dark locks of hair. Her actions would speak for her as well, she decided. She wasn't afraid anymore.

Fakir suddenly pulled away from her returned pressure, breaking the contact. Not realizing she'd closed her eyes, the blue orbs reopened, drinking in the sight of ex-knight. His cheeks were flushed from exertion as he stared down upon her, a mixture of conflicting emotions whirling in the depths of his eyes.

She merely blinked back at him, innocently bewildered.

His expression immediately twisted to one of severe annoyance, alluding to him possibly being further upset, but his grip upon her did not release or slacken, nor did he pull away from her. On the contrary, his fingers found a more secure hold around her tiny waist.

"Well, are you going to leave me to my business now or do you want further persuasion?"

Her pale skin regained its red hue from the implications of the question, mixed with the breathy masculinity of his tone. Judging by his increasingly firm grip upon her, it was almost like he was giving a warning he wouldn't even allow her to heed. And now that the time came for words, she found herself suddenly unprepared and flustered. "E-Eh? Well, I... If you want," Ahiru stammered awkwardly, wriggling her feet in midair. "Just let me down and I'll go ahead and-"

"On second thought, I think you deserve a little more punishment," he interrupted fluidly.

The redhead could only squeak in surprise as he swiftly carried her small form to the bedside and deposited her on top, crawling over her splayed figure and quirking one eyebrow in a rather suggestive manner. The ghost of a smile rested on his lips as he bent down to her face again, long dark-green strands of hair tickling her skin. "Now be a good girl and accept what you deserve, Ahiru."

And she did so willingly, relishing in the returned feeling of his warm mouth enveloping hers completely.

If Fakir's idea of punishment had changed from locking people in dark library storage rooms to this, then perhaps annoying him hadn't been such a bad thing afterall.

The thought quickly vanished when she felt a wet appendage press against her lips, requesting entrance to what lie beyond the barrier. Hesitant, she parted her mouth just slightly, and his tongue immediately snaked its way inside, tasting the innocently-sweet cavern within.

Her mouth opened further on a moan as his hand crawled over the bare flesh of her neck and trailed down over her collarbone, nails just scarcely scraping over the surface of her skin and sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine. Fakir released his mouth from hers, pausing momentarily to draw her bottom lip into his mouth, and then trailed his tongue over the curve of her jaw, all the way to her ear. Once arriving at his destination, he gave the lobe a nip and lifted his lips to hover above it.

"Just do what I tell you and follow my lead," he instructed in a husky whisper, a near-purr against her hearing appendage. "I'll teach you a new pas de deux."

Ahiru shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath caressing her ear and managed a tight nod, not trusting her voice to speak. She could almost feel him smile. "Good girl," he praised, and swiftly awarded her with another kiss. She melted right back into the hot pressure, body arching upward when she felt a small squeeze to the left side of her chest.

As expected of a writer and former swordsman, his hands were very skilled. And not just with a quill or weapon. One thumb pressed beneath the nub of the small mound below it, while the other four fingers wrapped around the whole with a firm grip, grasping in a rythymic and sensual pattern that bunched the fabric of the stretchy white leotard with each motion. Ahiru panted with growing urgency, each breath lost and mingled with his own as his mouth worked feverishly over hers. In the mean time, his left hand was busy flitting across her collarbone, kissing the open skin and rubbing in small circles as it traveled lower to the abandoned half of her chest, mimicking its twin's pattern before venturing further into unexplored territory.

All of her senses were flying wildly through space, a blinding white haze of pleasure unable to pinpoint where to focus. She could feel a heat beginning to pool in her lower regions, like a fire being fed by the ministrations of his hands and mouth. And she wanted nothing more than to keep that fire burning.

Anxious from the sensation overload, she pushed back against his demanding lips, her tongue dancing teasingly with own. Lift, dip, twirl; from one mouth to the other in slick and heated harmony.

Her hands twitched from the positions on bedsheets, rising and drifting slowly to the bared area of his chest, as if moving by a will she was completely unfamiliar with. And as soon as the cool fingertips reached his skin and licked the surface with their tips, he gasped into her mouth, pressing her further down with ignited desperation.

Timidly provoked by his strong retaliation to the simple touch, she reached one hand further beneath his shirt, smoothing over the sweat-speckled tan skin as the other absentmindedly started unbuttoning the rest of white cotton covering.

The exploration was suddenly halted when his hands grasped her own, pulling them away as his lips released hers, pausing only to nip her bottom lip once in something akin to a reprimand. She opened curious pools of blue that met with a bemused luster in emerald green.

Fakir raised an eyebrow. "Now that's hardly fair," he chided. "The female dancer should never attempt to take lead over her partner."

"Eh?" she squeaked in confusion.

Wordlessly releasing her arms, his hands delved down beneath her and lifted her lithe form to a semi-seated position, one continuing to hold her steady as the other worked the tight clothing over her shoulder blades and further downward. She blinked, taking in her state of rapid undress with an embarrassed squeal of surprise, hands rising to cover her exposed flesh from view.

He stubbornly pried them apart to pull the remaining stretchy leotard fabric over her hands and successfully removed the top of the clothing piece, letting it fall and bunch together at her middle. "Fakir..!" She gaped, face turning various shades of red as she snatched her hands back from his grasp and covered her front once more.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he offered lightly, unperturbed by her modesty.

If possible, she flushed more deeply from his words, remembering the very incident he was referring to more clearly as the seconds past, even though it had taken place years ago. He'd been as startled as her at that time, though, and denied seeing anything at all! And currently he wasn't showing even a hint of awkwardness. "You said you didn't look!" she sputtered out, aghast.

"It was rather sudden," the ex-knight defended, shrugging out of his open shirt and discarding it carelessly over the side of the bed. "Much like last night, when you might as well have been naked for what little that wet dress managed to obscure." Her face colored even further as her eyes widened and he couldn't help the small smirk that spread over his lips. "Besides, you didn't have much to hide in the first place."

Ahiru's eyebrows drew together. "Are you insulting m-"

The breath was abruptly knocked out of her as she was pushed back upon the bed, trapped beneath his half-naked body. In that unguarded moment, he'd also managed to take both of her wrists in his grip and imprisoned them on either side of her head.

"Intermission is over," he whispered sensually against her lips.

And leaving no room for a reply, the ex-knight's mouth refastened against her own, tongue sliding between her parted lips once more and engaging in the former wet dance. She met him within, her head arching back and fingers curling inward tightly.

Ahiru never thought kissing someone could be so...exhilarating and heartpoundingly-exciting! It had all been girlish, almost childish, fantasies in her head, until now. Ones that consisted of shy brushes of skin, small moments of sweetness. And afterward would come equally shy glances and maybe the holding of one another's hands.

This engagement was far different. More heated, much less controlled, and a thousand times more passionate than she could have ever begun to imagine.

Fakir kissed in a way much like he danced: Strong. Confident. Untamed.

The redhead couldn't counter that with her own technique. She had always danced with tenderness, an awkward stance and execution of steps that were severely lacking in confidence, and in an all-around very light manner.

The clash between them, their differences, wrapped within each other and created this new pas de deux.

And it took her breath away with every single step.

Panting, he released her mouth languidly. "You taste so sweet," he remarked, tongue gliding over his lips. "Moreso than I ever imagined."

She flushed from the implications that he'd actually imagined such things in context to her before. The thought alone made her heart beat more rapidly and a blush spread across her cheeks.

And then he leaned back in, pulling her bottom lip between his to suck upon it, as though extracting the invisible nectar he desired. Deciding she was thoroughly kissed there for the time being, his lips and tongue descended down her neck, searching for more of her to sample. She gasped in surprise, craning her head to the side to bare more of the ivory flesh to his ministrations. He eagerly accepted the offer, sucking on particularly tender areas of her neck and swathing his tongue around the reddened skin the gestures left behind.

His right hand, which had been firmly pinning one of her wrists down, released the appendage and drifted to her bare torso, smoothing sensually over her flat stomach.

The action shocked her entire lower body back to life as a sharp gasp released from her throat, causing her to arch up with a wild and spontaneous jerk right into him, lightly-clothed center brushing against the front of his pants for a bare and unpredecented moment.

The movement sent something akin to an electric spark through her system as she gasped aloud, and provoked him to release a long and strangled grunt, his fingers just below her chest digging into the soft skin. The hand upon her wrist squeezed roughly as he attempted to remain calm, breathing shallow and strained.

God, how he wanted to just rip the rest of her clothes off and...

"Don't try to speed up the dance," he growled deeply against her skin. "It's not time for that yet. Don't provoke me, Ahiru."

The darker tone in his voice sent a shiver down her spine and she found herself wondering just what "that" would be like. How much did this dance of his really entail?

"Ah!" she squealed suddenly, fingers curling in upon her palms.

During her momentary musing, his mouth had descended upon her bare left breast and pulled the nipple right into his warm mouth. He lavished it within the cavern, his tongue teasing the hardened tip and then releasing with a suction-like noise and repeating the procedure.

Ahiru felt like her breath was being stolen from her with every action he made. Her pupils dilated, white hot pleasure flooding her vision over and over. Heat poured endlessly and rushed everywhere in her system, attacking her senses mercilessly.

Did Fakir have any idea just how far he was sending her body into overdrive?

His busy mouth switched sides of her chest abruptly, drawing a strangled moan from her throat. He teased the neglected nub with a flick of his tongue and she pushed up involuntarily, forcing the small mound against his wet and waiting mouth. He sucked appraisingly upon her chest, offering what he'd laid upon the recently-abandoned side.

Her free hand rose from its dormant position to snake up into his messy hair and trail down the sweat-dotted and taught skin of his neck, finally resting to grip against his slick and well-muscled back, fingers tensing against him with every breath and movement.

The heated ecstasy that had been exploding everywhere within her suddenly began to concentrate and flock to one area, following his fingertips downward as they drew closer to her warm and waiting entrance. His right hand dipped underneath the stretchy fabric covering her middle, rubbing dangerously close to her core.

And along with his stroking fingers, the burning warmth swelled to the point that it nearly ached.

Her nails dug into the flesh of his back more harshly as his roaming fingertips delved to the connection point of her legs and experimentally drifted around the dripping center.

The ex-knight and writer's breath released hotly against the skin of her chest. "You're soaking," he panted heavily in growing need, fingering her moist opening.

"F-Fakir..." she whimpered, voice rising as his index finger pushed beyond her folds. "Down there, you-Aaaah!"

The dark-haired writer lifted his face to hers. "I've waited so long," he breathed against her flushed skin and thrust the solitary finger inside of her. He silently reveled in the way his name fell from her lips in a plead, even further aroused by the way her thighs clenched together over his hand, driving the single digit deeper within.

"I can't take it anymore," the ex-knight groaned, kissing her trembling lips and pulling his hand away from the shaking hold of her legs. "I want you, Ahiru."

With the removal of his finger, she nearly protested, but the rest of his lower body pressed right down into her in its place, a large bulge straining against her center through his pants. Ahiru distantly recalled how he'd hesitated when the same two areas had only brushed before, but now he was openly rubbing against her wet core roughly, groaning and releasing almost animalistic sounds through the parts in their sensual liplock. Unable and unwilling to resist him, she moved back against his restrained manhood, creating a rapid friction between them.

And almost as soon as it started, he abruptly stopped moving against her and pulled away.

Still panting wildly, Ahiru's hazed cerulean eyes opened in surprise from the sudden loss of contact. She attempted to search his face for a silent answer, but his long bangs overshadowed his face to the point where she could no longer see his expression.

"We don't... have to go any further," Fakir inhaled sharply, his tone strained. Guilty flames were licking his conscience. He'd let himself get carried away by his own desire and hormones, without stopping to consider her at all.

"...Fakir?" she questioned hesitantly.

"I-I didn't think," he stammered out. "And you...I was just going to...I must have scared you."

She reached a small hand out to rest on his own. "This is how humans mate, isn't it, Fakir?"

He turned puzzled green eyes to her blue. "What are you-"

"I like it better when you don't hide your feelings from me," she near-whispered, rising from her prone position enough to brush her lips against his tenderly. "I never knew you wanted this."

The writer's emerald gaze broadened in surprise, staring dumbstruck at the smiling young woman before him.

Ahiru blushed timidly, averting her gaze from his strange expression. "I want to be with you, Fakir. That is, if you...if you still want to be with me."

"You don't even need to ask that, idiot," he replied in a lightly-chiding tone, but with a fond smile softening his usually-hard features. His right hand rose to tilt her face back to his before he bent his head down to capture the sweetness of her mouth again.

The kiss was short, just enough to be a reassurance for them both. He then disengaged his mouth from hers and sat up, undoing the clasp on his pants before pulling them off and discarding them to the floor. Ahiru watched him, playing with the edge of her leotard for a moment before starting to follow his example, but was abruptly halted from any further removal of her remaining clothing by a hand on her wrist.

She blinked, looking up at him in confusion. "Fakir?"

"I want to do that," he stated pointedly.

The redhead blinked again. "But you took yours off so I thought I was supposed to-"

"I know what I'm doing, Ahiru." he teased with a hint of a smile. "You don't."

She huffed, crossing her arms over her bare chest. "T-That's not true! I know how to take someone's pants off! I was going to--I was even going to do it to you once!"

The ex-knight stared at her, clearly dumbfounded by the thought of her ever wishing to remove his pants.

She flushed a little, blue eyes darting back and forth from her lap to his face. "Well, I admit it was Lillie's idea. She thought you should be embarrassed while you were walking across the courtyard at the Academy and being grouchy. She was...She was telling me I should run over there and just pull your pants down in front of everyone. I thought about doing it, but I didn't. Even though-"


"I know that would have been horrible for you, but--!"

Her speech was suddenly cut off when took her chin in his hand and fastened his lips to hers, pulling back for just a moment after the initial contact. "You talk too much, moron. And this is not the time for talking." His mouth enveloped hers again passionately and desperately kissing while his hands dove down and stroked over her thighs, working up until they came to the bunched stretchy cloth. She squirmed beneath him, small hands gliding over his chest muscles and becoming slick with the perspiration on his skin. His fingers hooked down over the leotard around her middle, catching the elastic clothing and pulling it from her warm lower body, lips moving from hers and trailing down over her neck and chest as he moved further below to remove the skintight outfit. The hot digits grabbed and pulled at the clothing, eager to remove the last barriers as quickly as they could possibly be shed. And the way his hands brushed and crawled over her skin made her whine aloud, releasing a sound that almost resembled a mewl.

When at last her clothing was fully removed and his boxers discarded, their breathing patterns had grown erratic, eyes hazing over with lustful want. Fakir closed down over her, snatching hold of her hands on either side and positioning himself at her waiting entrance. Finally he could claim what was his. After being patient for so long, contenting himself with watching her, imagining, brief brushes of skin...waiting...wanting...

"You're mine now," he growled possessively into her ear. And with one hard thrust, he broke through her wall and embedded himself completely inside of her.

Ahiru's mouth opened on a silent scream when he entered, tears prickling the edges of her eyes. She was stretched to her limit, trying desperately to adjust to this length and size as pain assaulted her senses. He struggled to remain still as she gripped him tightly, his body more than eager to speed the tempo of the dance but awaiting her before proceeding.

The initial hurt quickly subsided to a dull throb and she released a small noise in the back of her throat, hoping to urge him on. She needed him to...he was the one who knew what to...he would understand what she couldn't...! "Please!" she gasped aloud suddenly, the pleasure running like fire through her whole body as her shaking legs fumbled to wrap around his middle.

The plea from her voice was all he needed to hear of how she was faring to the new sensations. Pulling swiftly out of her, he slammed right back in again, eliciting a cry of his name from her lips. Provoked by the thrill of hearing it, he quickened his pace. The rythymic, intimate pas de deux erupted with unfathomable ecstasy, the rapid friction between her core and his manhood sending them both closer and closer to the edge.

The bed rocked with his rough, continual thrusts, her back arching up and down as loud moans and strangled screams climbed out through her throat between the pants of exertion. Fakir was beginning to lose any semblance of control, driven past coherent thought and only being able to concentrate on the burning pleasure coursing mercilessly through ever part of his body. He grunted heavily, silencing her cries by encasing his starving mouth over her lips, forcing in and out repeatedly at their connection and greedily swallowing every sound that tried to escape from her.

The redhead's ankles slipped across one another, trying desperately to keep a crossed hold around his back as he pushed harder and faster. Her blue eyes were unfocused, waves and torrents of flaming heat racking through her and flooding to the tips of her fingers and toes. Release! She was getting so close! She needed it!

Ahiru dug her fingernails into the hands holding hers captive to the bedsheets, mouth pulling away from his as she threw her head back, demanding her voice be heard. "FAKIR! I NEED--PLEASE!"

He let her mouth escape and dipped his head down toward her bared neck, still moving in and out of her, gasping aloud everytime her inner walls clamped around him. On one immensely tight clench, he couldn't prevent his teeth from sinking into her skin, desperate to find a hold to steady himself with. She screamed from the sharp nip, pulling herself up with her lower muscles and taking him back inside her and then out again when she lowered. The ex-knight unconsciously licked the abused skin in a quick form of apology, pressing her hands firmly into the mattress when he rose up above her again and took control back, forcing her into his unsteady pounding rythym.

She whined openly, face flushed over and pupils dilated. The onslaught of pleasure had taken her as far as she could possibly go. This was it, this was what had been building...this was...! "Fakir...! FAKIR!" And with one last screeching cry of his name, she threw into her release, convulsing with an overload of feelings and sensations she'd never experienced before.

His breath drew in sharply with one last frantic thrust, following her cry with one of his own, her name rising out of his throat and the pure strength of his voice burying hers beneath it. His own orgasm crashed down on him, arms shaking as he struggled to remain upright and eyes wild as he released inside of her.

Their mingled screams finally died and his arms gave out, slick body collapsing on top of her in exhaustion, hands unclasping from their hold on hers in the process. Her breathy pants heaved her chest against his and she languidly raised one hand to brush an unruly lock of dark bangs from his face. "Fakir..." her voice came out almost no more than a whisper.

His breathing rate was finally slowing down to normal and he took her hand brushing before his face, kissing the back of it. "Hmm?"

The color in her cheeks became more pronounced as she shifted beneath him. "Um, you're still..."

He blinked, then rivaled the blush on her face almost instantly, pulling himself out of her and sheepishly averting his gaze. "...Sorry."

Ahiru brought his eyes back to her by way of wrapping her thin arms around his neck. "It's alright. That was...with you it was..." Now at her own loss for words, she giggled in attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"Moron," he mumbled with an awkward smile, brushing a warm hand over her bare shoulder and toward her neck, stopping to stroke the reddened area he'd bitten when he lost focus during their...activities. "But you're my moron."

She smiled up at him innocently, eyes glinting in amusement. "And that makes you my writer? Or my knight?"

"Your man," he corrected matter-of-factly, administering a short kiss upon her lips.

The duck-girl adjusted her arms until her hands were laying against his chest. "That...what we did...the--dance of sorts...I'm sure you don't call it mating, so what was...?"

"We had sex," he said simply.

"Sex..." she repeated, testing the word on her lips as her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

He tilted her chin to face him directly. "That's something to be kept between us, understand? Sex is an...intimate thing and you don't talk about it out in the open."

She blew her cheeks out, smacking a hand against his tan chest. "I wasn't planning to tell anyone! I was just...just thinking about something."

He bent his head and kissed her neck once then lifted his eyes to hers. "Thinking about what?"

She blushed bashfully, avoiding his curious gaze. "Do you--I mean--can another pas de deux again tomorrow? Like-Like this, I mean."

The ex-knight smiled, green eyes reflecting amusement from her embarrassment. "I had some new steps we could try, if you're willing to learn."

She blinked, baffled. "New steps?"

"Mm. Many," he mumbled against her jaw, brushing his lips over the curve.

Shuddering slightly from his continued ministrations, the redhead inquired, "Where do you learn all this from, Fakir?"

He chuckled, voice releasing warm breath against her skin. "A writer is handy with imagination, you know." Propping up on his elbows, he traced a fingertip down the side of her face. "The real question is, are you prepared to handle what I can imagine?"

Ahiru's cheeks flushed a healthy red, bright blue eyes drawn to his dark green. "W-Well, like what?"

Lying back down, his arms wound tightly around her small form, pulling her close and holding her possessively against him. "Silly girl," he admonished fondly, head bending to whisper into her ear. "There would be no point in teaching you if you know what to expect, now would there?" She gasped when he bit the edge lightly.

"Use your imagination."


...And that's my first Fakir/Ahiru smut piece. XD; I apologize for anything that you might have found out of character or the like (well how can they completely stay in character and engage in something like that, anyway?). I guessed with Ahiru's tendencies, she'd have tried to talk or blurt out random things at unwelcome times. XD I'm sorry if that disturbed the flow of the story at all, but I think it's in-character for her to do something like that.

Please keep in mind that this is only my second lemon ever. ;; I'm still learning and feel free to comment or criticize on whatever you wish. I would greatly appreciate any and all feedback you might have. (I'd like to improve so hopefully I can get past the embarrassment issue in writing stories like these. XD; I'm still so nervous about it...) Do not, however, just uselessly bash the pairing if you don't like it. That kind of feedback doesn't do anything for me or you. (Basically I say, yeah, so what if she's really a duck? XD He'd totally write her back into a girl.)

Thank you for taking the time to read this Hope you enjoyed it. And I hope you don't judge me based on what kind of material I like to write. ;;;