On A Day…
By Alerae Eirtoren
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Elfen Lied. I just own my own personal love of it.
Summary: Lucy has come back to Kouta after all, although a little bruised and broken but still Lucy nonetheless.
Sure, he kissed her on the stairwell. Sure, they held each other tight before the final goodbye… but now that she has once again defied death and the inevitable is out of the way, can their love survive in the setting of normal life?
She doesn't think she's ready for this. Not at all, not one bit.
She and Kouta had had to sneak into the inn, as the time isn't favorable for the other members of the house to be awake or awakened. Even Yuka hadn't stayed up to wait for them, which had truly surprised Lucy upon noticing the fact.
His arms are warm and gentle around her, and she almost feels like she's swooning. There is no pleasure like this, the pleasure and pain that come from the anticipation of pleasure. The neediness that he is bringing out in her. It's the sake, it has to be, because there would otherwise be absolutely no way she would let him do the things he's doing right now so early in their formal relationship. She thinks she's going crazy... or for lack of better words crazier. She does not stop him though, she acts upon her former resolve to make him happy no matter the cost to her or her body, her acceptance in the obervatory of her own desire to be his lover.
They are still both fully clothed, though she is unsure how long that's going to last. His room is dark, he hadn't turned the lights on when they first entered. He had just grabbed her, though not violently, of course, and kissed her deeply. She's pressed against the wall, him against her, his hands running up and down her body, keeping clear of more private areas but again she's certain that won't last long. She wonders if he's ever done this before, because she certainly hasn't... not consentually, anyway, but she doesn't allow her thoughts to venture any further into that damned institute, not now. His hands rub on her outer thighs, coming up and holding somewhat hard on her behind, bringing her up and pressing her center against his, and (involuntarily, of course) she lets a gasp when she feels his stiffness against her.
He lifts her and brings her over to his bed, and she wonders if he is nervous at all.
He kisses her with passion as he gently cradles her head on his pillow. He isn't sure if he should be doing this because of her injuries, but she isn't objecting to him so he assumes she wants to do this too. She's so responsive, so warm, he can feel her curves pressed close against him as he kisses her. Her legs are shut tight, slightly crossed even, underneath him, and this tells him that despite her responses that she's afraid. He pulls away and looks into her eyes, almost as if to tell her that he would never hurt her, and when he sees her expression, her passionate blush, and is somehow reminded of his more... secret mangas, he resolves that with him, when they are like this, she will only know pleasure. He likes that look on her face.
"Don't let me do anything that will make you uncomfortable, okay?" His voice is soft to her. He places his lips to her neck and allows his hands to once again roam her body when she nods. Gently, he cups her left breast, and is rewarded with a small whimper. He takes both and massages them through her clothes, his lips trailing downward from her neck. She is writhing under him, her hands in his hair, legs tightly closed but no longer crossed. Her breathy whispers are hardly understandable, sexy in only a way that someone like Lucy can be, that depsite her deeds and namesake she is, yes, a woman. His woman, or at least he hopes so, as he isn't sure as to how many Lucy has had before him, which agitates him slightly but he knows it's out of his hands. She's in his hands now, her flesh hot under her thin clothing, his lips claiming hers, and he is hot and heavily aroused and bent on pleasing her before himself. Any girl from those mangas would be applauding him, he thinks as he undoes the bow of the ribbon around Lucy's neck and kisses where it had been, smiling and holding back the mirth this thought gives him.
The room is too hot, she's too hot, she feels like she's painlessly burning, if that is even possible. His touches are maddening, and she feels helpless under him, helpless as a squirming infant. She might end up with one if this continues, and by God that's the last thing she needs. Her body is screaming at her, keeping her tethered to earthly desires, causing the muscles in her legs to slacken, causing them to lax. She wants to yell at him to just do it, just fucking get it over with, when another part has control and allows him to continue with this inevitable foreplay. It isn't that she isn't enjoying it, quite the contrary, but the helplessness... She needs to turn this around some. She needs to have some control.
He reaches for the zipper of her black jumper, pulling it down at a pace somewhere between moderate and slow. She stops him from pulling it off past her hips, wondering if perhaps the sake had run its course, and definitely not wanting him to see the state of her undergarments... hell, she doesn't even want to know. She feels her power, her vectors, useful to her even in her alchohol-induced wasn't able to take control the last time she was underneath a man like this, but now she certainly will, even though the man on top of her is Kouta.
He is confused when she stops him and finds himself being pushed into a kneeling position in her lap, when he sees the oddest gleam in her eyes. His confusion rises as Lucy suddenly takes the reigns of the situation, reaching up to kiss him, her hands caressing his chest, her... other hands reaching out to touch him. He's afraid suddenly as he feels their ghostly caress on his body, their lack of human warmth, their murderous potential. They lift him, lift him, up off his bed, lowering him to where Lucy had just been, his partner then settling herself beside him, her right arm supporting her as she arches over him, her face mere inches from his.
She feels herself smiling, Kouta's fear of her vectors' newfound gentleness perversely exciting her. "I can't just lay there and let you have your way with me," she says, her voice sounding dangerously sweet. He nods, he understands, but looking down she notices that his fear has removed his arousal, that she will have to start over again. She's quite nervous, she has no clue where to start, and her ego won't let her ask him for help after her last statement. He helps her anyway, though, lifting his head so as to kiss her, placing his hands on either side of her head. The kiss deepens, she feels his tongue gain entrance into her mouth, his hands rubbing her shoulders, her breasts, her belly, and finally he places them on her hips, his fingertips brushing on her behind. Her vectors take on a mind of their own, brushing not just on his body but also on her own, making something of a foursome out of the situation, there being four pairs of hands.
She feels his hands pulling her to him from their place on her hips, and before she realizes it, she's straddling him, legs wide open. She takes in a breath, just as helpless in this position as she had been in the one under him. His hands move to her thigh-high clad legs, lightly rubbing them, moving from her outer thigh to her inner, causing her to gasp into their kiss. Before she knows it his hands have made their way back to her jumper, still bunched around her hips, and this time he gets it down around her ankles before she can fight him, revealing a pair of thin black panties, already quite wet. Immediately he moves to her stockings, removing them before she can protest, breaking their kiss and maneuvering under her to reach them. He runs his hands up her smooth, hairless legs, firmly planting them on her backside, and pushed down co that her center rests against his erection, impatient and stiff once again. An incredible fire runs through her lower stomach and down her legs from the contact, and she lets out a whimper.
Her vectors come out to play again, aching for control of the situation. They start with his clothes, removing, or rather, tearing them off. His bare chest is marvelous to her, young and fit and hairless. He's shaking, that scared him, his clothes suddenly just tearing apart. She kisses him, running her hands, only her hands, about his torso. "Don't fear them," she whipsers into his ear, enjoying her dominace, "not like this." She kisses his neck, and he shudders, and he goes about his established business of running his hands about her body. She had left his pants: those were her business to remove with her own physical hands, to share their warmth. She starts with them, pulling them down, and he kicks them off as he pulls her shirt over her head, removing her bra in short order. He cups her breasts as she sits on top of him, her sex overtop of his, and to her the pressure feels wonderful. Her hands come to rest on top of his, encouraging him to touch her now.
It's incredible, the feelings she has when he touches her. Incredible, how she gasps and whimpers as he rubs her breasts, her thighs, moving inward... moving to where she has also been defiled, aside from her mind and heart. His fingers lightly brush her through the wet fabric of her undergarment, and she gives him a whimper of approval, unable to look him in the eye.
"Does that feel good?" He asks in a gentle manner, gazing at her though she will not look at him.
She's blushing, she knows it. "Y-yes."
With his other hand, he takes her chin and makes her look at him, "Do you want me to do it again?"
And she can only look at him, unable to speak, embarrassed by her own feelings.
Smiling, he takes his hand off her chin and rests it in front of her face, wiggling his fingers. "Don't fear them," he quotes her, "not like this."
And the blush on her face is adorable. She smiles, truly, knowingly smiles for him, and that is all he needs. The fingers that had been resting underneath her wet center then gently brush again against her. Her breathing quickens and she gasps a little. He reaches up to the line of her panties, hooks his fingers around them and slowly pulls down. He sits up, taking hold of her and turning her around so that her back is pressing against his front, and as slowly he reaches down for her, he places gentle kisses upon her neck.
She is warm and wet, responsive and ready when he sofly begins to stroke her. He thanks all those great mangakas for knowing how to do this as he comes to a spot particular to her. She whimpers his name, over and over, as he strokes and pushes inside her. His fingers come out again and push back in, continuing in this pattern while picking up speed, gasps and moans in the form of his name spilling from her mouth like a mantra. She feels it building, she knows what it feels like, for even she was not below self-exploration in her younger years.
But timid exploration is nothing compared to this. Kouta has her completely, literally in his hands, the pressure is building inside her, and it's hot, so hot, she feels like she's going to explode. She starts to rock her hips in time with him, feeling it, the burning, the awesome need for release, that she should die should she not have it. He takes her breast into his other hand, squeezing hard, and she calls his name, calls to him like a blind woman in the dark, like a thirsty woman in the desert. She calls his name as it crashes down and her muscles constrict and bind around his God-given fingers and she is throbbing and soaking and yet still he does not cease upon her, not stopping until she falls backward into him, his hand resting against her, applying firm pressure. Somewhere she wonders where on Earth he learned such a magical touch.
The night isn't over yet, she knows this, she says as much to him as she turns around and claims his lips. His arms wrap about her, and she plants a trail of kisses down his neck. She takes off his boxers, and is greeted by a very ready, very impatient erection. She settles herself above him, slowly lowering...
"Wait!" He suddenly calls, startling Lucy, she looks at him and he's blushing as he reaches over and opens a drawer, removing a small package, "Might be smart if we use this, ne?" He says somewhat embarrasedly. He opens the package to reveal Lucy's personal savior for the night, other than... well, she'll never look at his hands the same way again. He covers himself with it, and now that they are child-proof, his hands are on her hips, positioning her above him. She feels the head touch her, and Kouta places a gentle kiss on her lips. She comes down on him slowly, taking him in until he is sheathed in her to the hilt, and around him she is hot and tight. When she meets eyes with him, she notices that he is looking at her strangely, and it takes a moment before she realizes why. "You're not a...?"
"No." She looks away, not wanting to remember what caused the loss of her last bit of purity. "Please, not now, not now. Please"
He holds her tight, "It's okay. I'm not either, it really is okay. We're together now, and that's all that matters right?"
She kisses him again, still unable to fathom how he could really feel this way about her, "Right."
She begins to rock atop of him, gyrating and moving her hips, full and complete with her lover inside her. He helps her, his hands on her hips, bringing her up and down on him, impaling her with himself over and over, and she calling his name once again. They move with vigor, rocking so hard that he falls forward on top of her, going in and out, faster and faster, she pushing herself against him, that awesome pressure building inside of her again. There is no greater pleasure than this, the anticipation may be achingly wonderful, but the working and the obtainment are better. She comes first, crying out his name like a prayer, her inner muscles clenching around him, sending him into the 3-second-heaven that so many nations have lived and died for.
He does not pull himself out of her immediately, instead choosing to rest upon her, wrapping his arms about her slender frame. "You were beautiful," he whispers into her ear, "and that's all that matters." And she buries her face into the crook of his neck, loving his compassion, his companionship, loving him.
The past has its name for a reason. Though it is hard to forget, it is still, as they say, the past. As far as she is concerned, this was her first time, his too. No matter what has happened before, what is important is that they are together now. And that's all that matters.