It's comical how spur-of-the-moment I decided to write this one-shot. I went to the list of Anime categories with the intention of doing something else (I have now forgotten what my original task was, ha ha), and upon seeing that Godchild had its own category now (finally!) I decided to honor the fact that I just finished the 8th and last book by writing a Riff/Cain one-shot. Please enjoy. This story probably won't get many reviews, so I'll appreciate any you choose to leave me. I write for my fans first and myself second, as always.

Disclaimer: This story will contain adult concepts, activities, and male/male lovin', so if you don't like it, I probably don't like you, and you shouldn't read this. Seriously, how can anyone read Godchild and not see the relationship between Cain and Riff? It's yaoi; get used to it. Godchild is owned exclusively by its author and not myself.

Cain's fingers shook as he undid one button after the other, struggling to push the annoying things through their respective holes and thus rid himself of the garment standing between himself and what he wanted. Hot breath tickled his ear as a voice murmured his name and title again and again. The passion in that voice made him shiver as much as the cool fingers now sliding along the curves of his sculpted chest, tracing him as if he were made from marble and not warm flesh.

"Lord Cain…" the voice whispered heatedly, "Lord Cain, your skin is so smooth…"

Soft lips tormented Cain as they journeyed from his ear to his neck, occasionally pausing to nip at his skin and make him gasp.

"Ah, Riff," Cain moaned as his manservant paused at the junction of his neck and shoulder and bit down, sending waves of pleasure rolling through the younger man. It felt so good to be touched this way, especially touched by this person.

It had started out as such a normal day. Cain had investigated several possible leads as to the whereabouts of Delilah's headquarters, and each had been completely futile. He hit brick wall after brick wall. The only comfort that came with his defeat was the presence of Riff by his side, ever attentive and cheerful. Cain had known for many years that he would never love anyone as much as he loved his manservant, but the nature of their love had never been questioned by either of them.

There was a line between them. A line created by high society and by their own mutual desire to not compromise their relationship in any way. This line would never be crossed, and the unanswered questions that floated around it would never be voiced aloud, let alone answered.

They both just accepted their roles as master and servant as well as their fate to never let the one they loved best know of their true feelings with anything other than everyday courtesies. Pleasantries. The way they greeted each other, and the special attention they always paid to each other. Simple actions.

But those simple actions had turned on them today. As the day had changed into afternoon, thick rain clouds had formed in the sky. In the blink of an eye, a torrent had ripped open the clouds and soaked everything in its path, including Cain and Riff. The two had caught a coach back to the Hargreaves mansion as quickly as they could, but not quickly enough to keep them both from getting drenched to the bone.

The Earl entered his mansion cursing, removing his top hat, gloves, and outer coat as quickly as he could before they could make him any colder. He could already feel a chill settling into his wet clothing, and the desire to strip down right there in his grand hall was overwhelming.

"Master, if you would, allow me to do that for you." Riff appeared beside him with a courteous smile on his face. Of course, Cain would accept. It would be shameful for him to disrobe where any servant could walk in on him, and Cain would never miss the opportunity to let Riff undress him. Riff knew this, of course, and used the knowledge to ensure that his master did not disgrace himself by walking through his mansion nude.

Cain allowed himself to be lead up an elegant staircase to his master bedroom, a dark room filled with red velvet and elaborate wall hangings. The entire chamber consisted of elegance: finely-carved furniture, a large bed swathed in sheer fabric, tall windows from which hung heavy velvet curtains, all in different shades of dark color. A wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling shed the only light in the room—besides that given by a merry fire crackling beneath the mantle—laden as it was with a thousand flickering candles. The atmosphere was intoxicating. As many times as Riff had been in his master's bedchamber, he never quite got over his mesmerizing taste in decorations.

Cain sat on the edge of his bed and began to pull his shoes off. "Take off your clothes too, Riff. I can't have you getting sick on me."

The manservant hesitated. He very rarely disrobed before his master, since he did not consider it appropriate, but Cain had given him a direct order. He paused for a moment, watching his master fiddle with the ties of his clothing, clearly uncertain as to how to get it all off. Riff dressed him every morning, and Cain was usually too busy to pay attention to exactly how Riff went about doing it. The manservant chuckled quietly to himself and walked over to his master, using Cain's struggles as an excuse to keep his clothes on.

Cain's teeth were chattering loud enough for Riff to hear from across the room, and the sound got louder as he approached. "Lord Cain, I hope you're not catching cold."

Cain looked up at his manservant with a slightly sheepish look twinkling in his green-gold eyes. Riff was the only person he would show such vulnerability to. He allowed his servant to stand in front of him and untie the many straps that made his long undercoat hug his shapely form just right. Cain was not vain, but he did love a good-fitting set of clothes. He supposed Riff must love it too, since he always stood back to admire his handiwork after he dressed Cain in the mornings. Cain glowed with secret pleasure under Riff's critical stare, reveling in the way his love's eyes lingered on his narrow hips and broad shoulders.

"Stand, please." Cain was brought back to the present with a jolt as Riff spoke. He'd untied his master's coat but was unable to pull it out from under him while his master sat on the bed. Cain obeyed quickly, trying to cover the fact that he'd been daydreaming about a less-than-appropriate topic. As he stood, however, he encountered a new kind of problem. Riff had not been standing far from him when he was sitting, and now that he was standing, the two were barely an inch apart.

They both froze in the same moment.

They'd been in close proximity before, of course, but somehow this time felt different. The fireplace was slowly filling the room with warmth, but that was nothing compared to the warmth radiating from their bodies. Cain's eyes were locked in an unbreakable stare with his manservant's. Riff still held Cain's coat between them, and Cain could just barely feel the brush of his servant's fingers against his lower abdomen. He had the sudden and uncontrollable impulse to press his body against those fingers, to order his servant to touch every inch of his flesh with those fingers that dressed him every morning and undressed him every night.

He'd always loved the sensuousness of Riff's touch, but somehow it had never been quite so sexual to him before. A fever flushed his pale cheeks, and he couldn't tell if it was because of his soaked clothing or the impossible desire he suddenly felt for the man standing before him.

"I'll go hang this by the fire…" Riff began, looking clearly dazed. He started to pull away, but Cain grabbed him by the forearms and stopped him dead. The touch was electric. They both felt it immediately and knew without asking that the other felt it as well.

What had come over them?

"Riff…" Cain said slowly, letting the name drip from his lips. The older man opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Cain let his eyes settle on those lips, those beautifully shaped lips. How had he missed their obviously velvety texture in all the times he'd looked at them before? It seemed abominable that he had never paid those lips proper homage before.

Cain cleared his throat, trying to reign in the now explosive passion he could feel bubbling underneath his skin. He wasn't entirely certain what he was doing just yet. This feeling was developing so quickly he didn't have time to think through its wisdom.

Maybe that's for the best, Cain thought, his lips tugging into a hint of a smile. "Riff, you need to take your clothes off."

"L—Lord Cain?" Riff stuttered, and Cain smiled genuinely this time. He'd never seen the older man look nervous before, but he supposed he must look nervous himself. This was new ground for them both. "Your clothes are just as wet as mine," Cain clarified. "You need to take them off before we both get a fever." He chuckled softly at the double meaning in his words. The fever was already there and growing by the minute.

Cain, losing his reserve, reached forward and began to unbutton the long, white shirt his servant wore. Riff clapped a hand over Cain's, stopping the black-haired man. "Lord Cain, I don't think…"

"Don't think." Cain was surprised at the demand in his voice, the raw need. Riff seemed surprised to, to hear such desire in the voice of his young master. It was raw and deep and smoldering, burning like the molten gold of Cain's eyes. "Don't think. Just do it. Don't think about what's expected of you or me or society or anyone. I know you feel this. I feel it to. If we don't take it now, it'll escape us forever." Cain's smile turned sharp like the edge of a knife. "Only God can judge us for what we do tonight."

Those words… spoken so simply… as if they were the only reason left in the world… were all Riff needed to lose control of himself.

He hungered for his master and would not admit it even to himself. He'd felt it even as he was taking off Cain's coat. When the young man stood—barely a man, still a boy by many standards—Riff had been shocked by the effect his closeness had on him. For years, he'd been fighting the desire he felt for his young master. It was wrong. It was forbidden.

It was everything he wanted out of life.

He'd been content until now just to protect this beautiful young man who was so strangely strong, so hypnotic, but so fragile. Like a ceramic doll that could shatter if you touched it wrong.

But those words had been the last of it. The passion in those gold eyes would burn Riff's very soul if he did not find a way to quench this fever. His master had told him not to think, and he would do whatever his master told him.


To hell with the consequences. They both wanted this more than anything in the world.

The last of his resolve shattered like a warped mirror, Riff reached forward and crushed Cain's body to his own, melding them together as if they were made to fit this way. Cain gasped at the sudden movement, surprised to feel how firm Riff's body felt beneath his own, even through the clothing still separating them. Cain suddenly hated that clothing more than he had ever hated anything before. How dare it keep him from the man he loved!

Cain set about to removing this clothing while Riff teased him with his tickling breath and tantalizing kisses. With every inch of flesh he revealed, their passion grew stronger. When Cain finally pulled Riff's shirt off, he ran his fingernails hard down his servant's back, leaving a row of red marks that might have matched the scars on his own back. Riff threw his head back and hissed with pleasure-filled pain. Cain marveled at the beautiful look of torment on his servant's face. God how he wished he would make that face more often.

Riff responded to Cain's hard touch by crushing their mouth's together, their first real kiss. It was raw and demanding, fed by the mutual love and passion they'd hidden from each other for years now. Cain was certainly no stranger to kissing with the number of women he'd seduced over the years, but this was something completely new. Riff's body was nothing like that of a court lady, and the strange feel of it excited him even more. This felt right. This felt good. So good.

Riff tangled a hand in his master's dark hair and pulled his head back, exposing an elegant slice of milky white neck. Cain gasped as Riff's mouth attacked this flesh: kissing and biting and sucking every inch until Cain thought his heart would cease to beat. He moaned shamelessly, praying that it would never stop, but suddenly it did. He felt himself falling backwards and realized that Riff had pushed him onto the bed behind them.

Cain gazed upward, catching his servant's eyes and holding the heated gaze. He watched as Riff slowly undid the fastenings on his pants and allowed them to slide away from his body, exposing the last of his flesh. Cain tried not to stare, but the impulse was strong as he noted that Riff's body was not lacking in any way. His skin was flawless, smooth, and flushed with passion, every inch of it. Cain intended to taste that skin for as long as he could.

Mimicking his servant's movements, Cain removed his own clothing and tossed it carelessly away. He smiled inside as he watched Riff's eyes devour his exposed skin, lingering on the part of him that most desired his attention. Neither of them could deny how badly they wanted each other with the evidence plainly exposed.

Riff sank slowly onto the bed, crawling over his master until their bodies hovered just inches from each other. Cain's eyes were half-lidded with lust as he watched Riff's sensuous movements. His servant's head dipped down and pressed their lips tenderly together. Cain would swear he'd never been kissed so carefully before, so thoroughly, as if they had all the time in the world to just kiss. God, it felt so good.

And in the end, God would be the one to decide if it was worth it in the end.

Caught once again in the blaze of their passion, the two men tangled themselves in each other, fingers clutching at exposed flesh, limbs wrapping around limbs, and tongues tasting each other frantically. Cain tasted like red wine, Riff decided, only sweeter. The older man groaned as he felt a slim leg wrap around his waist, soon to be joined by another. This was unbearable. The heat was too much.

And suddenly, it was pulling away. Riff gasped for air as his master suddenly stopped kissing him and pulled away, his back flat against the bed as Riff hovered over him.

"Lord Cain, what's wrong?" Riff asked, barely able to catch his breath long enough to ask the question. He was suddenly dreadfully afraid that his master regretted their actions. How would they ever go back to the way they were with this experience between them?

"Riff… why are you doing this?" Cain's golden eyes were unreadable as he asked this seemingly simple question. It was a question that some might have found troubling to answer, but Riff knew his response immediately.

"Because I love you, and you asked it of me." There was no hesitation in Riff's voice as he spoke, even though he understood the gravity of his words. "I would do anything you asked of me, my lord, but I must admit that I do this partially out of personal desire, not just out of a desire to serve you."

Riff waited for his master's response, his uncertainty growing with every passing second. He was rewarded after a long moment by one of Cain's breath-taking smiles. "That was exactly what I needed to hear, Riff. I worried for a moment that you were only doing this because I told you to, but now I see otherwise. I love you, too. Nothing will ever change that."

The words hung heavily between them, and suddenly they could not get enough of each other. They were in love, and love was a force that could not be contained by society or judgment. Even God could not judge them now.

Cain ran his tongue along the elegant lines of Riff's collarbone, reveling in the older man's sweet taste. It was like cream, almost, but far richer. He felt Riff's hand traveling slowly down his body but paid it no mind, absorbed as he was in the task of tasting his servant's flesh. With a gasp of surprise, he felt Riff's hand wrap around the hardness between his legs and stroke it slowly, exasperatingly slowly. Cain had never felt anything like it in his life, and he let out a moan so filled with need he was almost embarrassed by the sound of it.

Riff reveled in the sound, though, pressing his lips tightly to Cain's and drinking in his master's moans as he stroked him faster and faster. Cain's narrow hips began to thrust in time with Riff's touch and he threw his head back, panting as pleasure coiled tightly between his legs.

"Ah, Riff," he pleaded, "stop, please stop. It's too much." The manservant heeded his master and slowed his pace, but only because he wanted to prolong the younger man's pleasure. Riff aligned his hips with Cain's and thrust against him in a slow, seductive movement, allowing the friction to bring waves of pleasure crashing down on him. Apparently Cain felt it too, since he began to groan almost as loudly as before, delighting in the feel of hard flesh rubbing against hard flesh. Riff's voice, rough with pleasure, joined the medley, and soon they were singing their desire aloud, man joined with man in a harmonious chorus of feeling.

"Please, Riff…" Cain trailed off, too lost in his pleasure to finish his thought.

"Yes, Lord Cain," Riff whispered, smiling. He never knew it could be so fun to torment his young master. God, how he loved the sight of that thin, white body thrashing beneath him. "Was there something you needed?" Cain opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Riff thrust his hips hard against Cain's, making the boy practically scream with bliss. "What was that, my lord?" Riff whispered smoothly. "I can't give you what you want until you ask for it." He leaned closer to his lover, his hips now moving quickly and mercilessly against the younger man, making Cain pant frantically. They could both feel the pleasure building within them. It wouldn't be long now. "What is it, my lord, that you want?"

Cain's golden eyes stared up at him, and Riff could feel himself getting lost in the gaze. "I want you, Riff," Cain managed to pant as he forced air into his lungs. "I want you to take me, and I want you to do it now."

Riff stared into his master's eyes for just a moment longer before leaning down to thoroughly kiss the dark-haired man. That was all the invitation he needed. Riff placed his index finger in his mouth and sucked slowly. It wasn't much, but it would do, and he loved the look on his master's face as he watched him wet his finger: anticipation masked with a hint of nervousness. He doubted a man had ever made love to Cain before, and he delighted in the opportunity to be the first.

Slowly, he slid his hand around Cain's hips and found the puckered entrance waiting for him between his master's legs. The going was not easy, and Cain made more than one whimper of discomfort, but Riff managed to get his master properly prepared for lovemaking. With a shift of his strong hips, Riff positioned himself at Cain's entrance and held his golden gaze, loving those eyes more and more every time he looked into them. Cain smiled slowly and lifted a hand to touch Riff's cheek gently.

"I love you," Cain whispered, spreading his legs seductively, inviting Riff in.

Riff slid himself in to the hilt, drinking in the gasp of surprised pleasure that came from his lord. "I love you, too."

Riff set a slow rhythm, allowing Cain time to adjust to the odd sensations he must have been feeling. It was all Riff could do to restrain himself from taking his master hard and fast. The warmth surrounding him was unbearable, tight and begging to be plunged into, but Riff would never intentionally cause his master pain. It was already an uncomfortable enough experience without anyone acting brash.

After a few minutes of steady thrusting, Cain's breathing evened out and he began to moan. It had felt strange at first, this extraordinary hardness invading his body, but the look of exquisite torture on Riff's face had distracted him until the thrusts began to feel natural, even good. Cain shifted his hips and smirked as the movement made Riff gasp and plunge deeper into him on instinct. The servant looked horrified at his hasty movement and began to pull out, but then he heard Cain moan and buck his hips forward, pushing Riff deeper into him. That was all the servant needed to lose control once again. He set a quick, hard pace, thrusting deeper into his master with every smooth roll of his hips.

He'd never felt sensation like this before in his life. It was taut in every muscle, warm in every drop of blood, and ringing in every breathy moan that the two men shared. The love between them was already made, so lovemaking was just an added bonus.

When release finally came, it came simultaneously and in electric currents that spiked through them both and made them scream each other's names in a harmony that neither had ever heard before. Angels could not sing praises to God with the same kind of raw exultation.

They lay for long hours afterwards, watching the beads of sweat dry on their skin and listening to the beat of each other's hearts.

They need not say what they felt for each other. It had been said in the perfect way their bodies moved together. It had been said in the way their eyes connected with every glance. It had been said in their willingness to throw rationality away and converge themselves into one. There was no turning back. There was no regret. There was no judgment.

There was only love.