The Meaning of Love

The man acted weird recently. Even though he was hiding it pretty well for anybody whom hadn't known him for over ten years, something was wrong. He forced himself to eat and then would disappear for half an hour. He would take all the night watches. He didn't shiver in Flanoir and wasn't sweating in Triet. Something was deeply wrong with him. Martel stated that it was stress that made him eat less and sleep less. While she thought that he was able to endure harsh weather. The kid, on the other end, hadn't even remarked the changes: he was admiring the mercenary too much to see any weaknesses in the man he thought was impersonating some god. But for someone who had grown up with Kratos Aurion, it was obvious as a giant nose between small eyes that he wasn't his usual self.

So, while taking a vacation day in Altamira from the quest, Yuan decided it was time to confront his stoic best friend about his new behaviour. It was a hot and nice summer evening; Martel and the kid were out to see some friends who lived in the city, not intending to come back for the night at the luxurious hotel. So he was sharing a whole bedroom with the mercenary.

Hopefully for the half-elf, the man was out when he walked inside the room. He was out at the beach, not swimming of course, just sitting and thinking with the ocean's exotic smell and the waves soothing sounds. Yuan sat down on one of the four single beds and sighed. He had to get prepared mentally before his confrontation. Refuting was a tiresome task. Imagine when it was about refuting Kratos Aurion. The man was about as stubborn as a stone. So, while taking his cape and armour off, Yuan was thinking about what he would most probably yell at the man.


Kratos was sitting on an enormous rock lying on the beach which had a form that vaguely remembered him of a whale. Arms crossed over his knees and chin resting on his left forearm, he blankly stared at the endless sea before him. In any other circumstances, the beauty of the scenery would have been breath taking for even him: the sun was setting, wearing the sky of a rich gradient going from magenta to velvet purple. The ocean, usually a deep shade of cyan shone orange in the distance, purple and then cobalt. The silver glitters that the waves produced seemed to shine idly, like the element itself was tired and ready to sleep. And to complete the fairy atmosphere, an enormous half sun seemed to spread an aura of magic in its reddish brightness.

Though he was staring right at this beauty, he didn't notice it was there. Sighing desperately, he closed his lids in an attempt to hydrate the tired orbs stuck behind them. He knew he should have told Martel about this. And Yuan. Mostly Yuan. After he had equipped that weird crystal, sure he had gotten a lot stronger than he was already, but at what price? The first change had been strong headaches at night that seemed to be produced from his skull. He could feel his heart beat in the small bone between his eyes. Then, he lost all appetite. Not to look suspicious, he had eaten even though his body protested highly. It always ended up in him throwing up in some bush a few moments after he had consumed food. At least, he could keep water down. After that, he became insomniac. So, taking that as an opportunity to allow the others to get more rest, he had started to do all of the night watches, pretending he was getting some rest during the night and that he was alright. He wasn't much surprised when he stopped feeling the heat or the cold. And all of a sudden, his vision became more fine, his earring more sensitive, his taste sharper, his touch more detailed and his smell more powerful.

He successfully hid all those from his comrades. He could even forget about all this from time to time. But it all changed when something else happened. Something he didn't always control. Something that finally made him freak out.

There, on his back, long, powerful, translucent, magnificent cyan wings had appeared. He hated them with all his soul.

What was he now? Some weird living bird-like man? He thought he might be something that people would call an angel. But angels were heavenly creatures, beautiful beings, delicate and refined, pleasant to the mind and the eyes. He was no angel, to him, at least. He was nothing he would call beautiful, even less delicate and as refined as Noishe was. How could a man like him, a murderer, a thief, a sinful thing like him could be called an angel? And if he was no angel, what was he?

He couldn't really call himself human anymore, his humanity, already debatable, was disappearing from him at such a slow rate that he thought his sanity wouldn't endure that rhythm any longer. And as his human abilities flew out of him like his glassy feathers from his back, he felt himself being replenished with a new sort of energy. Something he would qualify as warm and cold at the same time, even though he didn't feel it literally. It did feel warm, comfortable and somehow soft, just like a woman's embrace would be. Making this new energy making him fell stronger mentally, as if wisdom was entering his very veins to flow with his blood, hormones and nerves. On the other hand, that sensation was as cold as a night in Flanoir would be. The chilling venom spread over his body and scared him. No, terrified him. What was that weird energy he couldn't picture as anything else but green flows of lights? He had no choices but to accept it, as it took hold of him without his permission, raping his very soul and mind. Even now, he could feel his sensitive fingertips being loaded with this magical parasite, as if demanding to be released.

He looked briefly at his hand with disdain, wondering if the people looking at him could see an aura of lime-green light enveloping him. During 27 years he had hope to be a normal person. He had wished to have been born a poor slave with a caring family. He had wished not to wear the Aurion name so well. Just like the man he hated even more than himself, he was honouring his name, hating it for that. The Aurion dynasty had always been represented by strong and extremely skilled swordsmen. This family was known throughout the world to be the dynasty of the "Gods and Princes of War". His father, General Aurion was the God of War, without any doubts. And Kratos, following, without wanting it, the footsteps of his genitor, was nothing less than the prince.

Feeling the wind on his cheek, he shook his head. He looked up, pushing his thoughts deep within himself, and remarked that the sun had set. Judging by the darkness of the ocean and sky, it was about eleven pm. He rose, deciding it was about time to act like he was going to sleep. The man could easily get carried away with his thoughts.


When the mercenary stepped into the bedroom, he remarked instantly the half-elf lying on his back, on a shell designed bed, reading some book that seemed to be about mythology. He took his boots off silently and unclipped his cape while walking lazily to a boat-like bed. Without much consideration for the disturbance of the wonderful decoration, he let the cloth fall to the ground, revealing its unsuspected weight when hitting the floor with an audible "thud". Yuan looked up from his book and posed his calm and deep ocean eyes on the cape, remarking how its dark colour contrasted with the light blues and whites of the room. He raised his cerulean eyes to the statue that was his best friend.

No doubts from the look Kratos was giving that he was exhausted. He didn't look to be tired physically, though. He looked fairly well, in facts. But through his reddish eyes, Yuan could clearly see the distress. Putting gracefully his book down on the carpeted floor, he cleared his throat. The mercenary glared at him, as to ask "what?" in an irritated voice. The half-elf swallowed his saliva. "Did you enjoy your time at the beach?" He tried, scanning the field for any bomb before running in it.

"It was pleasant." Yuan repressed an intense envy to roll his eyes.

"Don't you think it's hot in there?" The mercenary flinched. He had hit a nerve.

"… I am fine." He answered his voice blank though his eyes showed some insecurity. The half-elf didn't miss the opportunity.

"Aren't you hungry?" He rubbed his stomach. And Kratos seemed suspicious.

"I am fine." He said again, his voice becoming aggressive.

"Ok, then… What about sleeping? It's getting late, don't you think?" He couldn't help but smile victoriously when he saw the anger flash in the human's eyes.

"What do you want, exactly?" He barked. Yuan switch his position to a sitting one and stared at the fiery red orbs before him.

"To know what's wrong with you." Kratos looked away and the cobalt sighed. "Do you sincerely believe I didn't notice?"

"I'm fi-" Yuan jumped on his feet, his fists clenched.

"No! You are not fine!" The mercenary kept his gaze away. "You call not feeling heat or cold, not eating nor sleeping fine?! What is wrong with you?" He waited for an answer that never came. "Kratos! Come on!" But the man stayed as still as a statue. Sighing in frustration, the half-elf closed the distance between the two of them and grabbed the older man's chin, forcing Kratos to look at him. Tired crimson iris met curious green ones. They stared at each other for a long moment, not knowing what to do or say. "Tell me…" He pleaded, his voice nothing much more than a whisper.

"… I'll show you, instead of explaining." Lowering his head, he summoned his wings.

With wider eyes than it can describe, Yuan stared straight at the luminous glassy wings, not deciding if he was shocked of amazed. His jaw dropped as he watched carefully the fragile feathers which contrasted wildly with the man's roughness. Slowly and mechanically, he walked around the bed until he was behind his friend. His eyes hadn't left the pale beauty of the feathers. Carefully, he approached his hand to Kratos' back, making his fingers brush against the luminous amazement. The human shivered at the contact, his newly acquired organs too sensitive for his nerves. "This is… pure mana…" The half-elf said, caressing a crystal-like bluish feather. A spasm made the wings open themselves fully a second before coming back to their original folded position. Yuan's eyes widened in admiration. "They are huge…" He whispered. Delicately, he put his hand flat on the mercenary's back, between his wings. The auburn shivered. "Yuan… Stop." He murmured. But the cobalt didn't flinch.

"Why?" He demanded, still amazed by the fragile beauty displayed before him.

"My skin is too sensitive now… It…" He didn't know how to phase his embarrassment to his friend.

"It's because of the mana. You originally not meant to use mana. Even less one this pure." He slid his slender finger up Kratos' right wing. The man threw his head back, repressing a moan.

"St-stop it… I… This is too much, Yuan." He whispered, his chocolate voice full of something the half-elf recognised as lust. The thought would have, in any other circumstances, shocked him. But not now, not before suck delicacy, such pure beauty. Teasingly, he ran his index on the feathers, his touch as light as the object being bothered. Kratos moaned weakly. "Yuan…"

"Take off your shirt." Was the cobalt's answer.

Without any hesitation, Kratos took his shirt off, slowly. His movement was not sensual, nor was it meant to be inviting, but it worked perfectly with the lazy glimmers of his wings' mana. Without his shirt on, the feathers made his skin shone a chilly snow-blue color, making him look paler than he was, making him look surreal. The normally strong muscles of his back and shoulders seemed lean and fragile and without a second thought, he traced his fingertips on their outlines. The mercenary shivered again, his hands grabbing the pale blanket, holding on them as if his life depended on it.

Yuan put his knees on the mattress, against the lower back if Kratos and between his spreading wings. Delicately, he took his shirt off and let it fall on the ground, its whiteness almost disappearing within the snow-like carpet. Wrapping his arms around the angel's neck, he closed the distance between them, leaning his chest against the older man's back. The auburn turned his head on the side and during a brief moment, they made eye contact. Lust filled their eyes, mixed with comfort and somehow, a feeling of sincere understanding passed through them. Closing their eyes, their lips met smoothly. They shared a kiss, emotions mixed between brotherly love and utter lust.

Yuan broke the kiss, only to stand up again. Eyes locked together, he went back to his original position: standing before his best friend. They shared a lust filled gaze before Kratos put his hands on the cobalt's hips, pulling him slowly to him. The man obeyed, his flesh burning where the mercenary's hands were. Sitting on the angel's lap, legs around his, they stared at each other, sharing a romantic kiss.

It was pure ecstasy. Each touch between the half-elf and the angel being a mana transfer. Each touches burning flesh coolly, like liquid fire. It was pure bliss, like thousands of small orgasms were exchanged every time their skin touched.

The half-elf's hands lost themselves in the human's hair, grabbing locks of auburn messy locks. Each hair feeling like it was leaded with electricity against his fingertips. Freeing himself from Yuan's lips, Kratos pulled the white cloth holding long cobalt hair off, freeing it, while his other hand caressed the half-elf's back, brushing at some point, grabbing firmly a moment later. His mouth traveled sinfully slow down Yuan's lips to his jaw bone, to his neck, leaving a wet trail of mana loaded saliva on its way. The half-elf closed his eyes and abandoned him to the fantastic feeling going down his body.

A moment later, Yuan felt the burning eyes of his new lover on him. He opened his eyes, his lashes feeling heavy on his eyelids. His ocean eyes met his friend's volcano ones and. His wings made his front body look darker, his hair shining slightly purple and his eyes, redder than ever. Gasping silently at the handsomeness of the man below him, his fragile appearance had disappeared to make place to an angel of the hell. Something you could call the Angel of Death. The impersonation of Eros, the male version of the God of love, was right below him, glaring at him defiantly while sucking at one of his nipple. Yuan moaned softly, his body demanding more than ever for that angel's chilly heat.

Kratos seemed to understand as he shifted their position so he was lying on top of the amazed half-elf. On his knees and elbow, he kissed the man below him roughly but delicately at the same time. Unable to control his need much longer, Yuan slid his hands tentatively down the older man's shoulders, to his pectorals, to his stomach and finally to his pants. While their tongues danced lazily together, the auburn allowed the cobalt to undo his belts. With precautions, he put the long sword that was attached to the first belt down on the floor. Then, he proceeded to take the pants of the angel down with steady, wanting hands. Smiling one he was totally exposed to the man below him, he proceeded to do the same action to the half-elf.

The moments that followed were above what could be called euphoria. As skin rubbed against skin and as mana was exchanged, their moans intensified slowly. Their movements were slow, considerate, and delicate. Mouth against mouth, fingers intertwined in hair or rubbing sensitive skin, they slowly create an interesting pace. As hips met and sweat was exchanged, they felt an increasing pressure in their respective bodies, but also between them. It was like they were sharing the same body, the mana between them making them feel what the other did.

Together, they reached their climax in silence: no screams could have expressed the intense pleasure they felt together.

Panting, they separated themselves, feeling emptiness feeling what the other's mana had during their love making. Withdrawing his wings in a final pale flash of light, Kratos laid down on the mattress beside the half-elf. Smiling tiredly to each other, they smiled. Yuan catched a floating blue feather and brought it to his heart before closing his eyes.

That night, Kratos looked at his friend as he slept; feeling for the first time in months that he was a normal being. Feeling that he was accepted. And he thought, as his mana slowly recovered, that friendship was, after all, the true meaning of the word love.

Well, this is my Valentine's day fluff. I hope you enjoyed it and don't be shy to review!

I am sorry for the mistakes I did not saw!

Then, I hope you felt the mood like I wanted it to be. There were lots of allusion about Le banque de Platon. I also tried to create ambiances by using the colours, by picking words that seemed quiet. I wanted the scene to feel quiet, all along. There are many usage of stylistic poceeds. I don't know it it's how it's called in English, though.

To me, it is a master piece. I don't think I ever wrote something that litterary and I am proud.

I just hope you will review,