There is no excuse for me. I'm supposed to be working on a chapter, and instead I produce this. It only took an hour, though, so not much chapter time taken… Why, oh why, would I write het smut? …Blame the muse?

Yes, it was daily that they moved into one another, rise and recoil, the stretch of a lazy monster.

It was always quiet, his only sounds muted pants and low groans, hers soft whimpers and fluttering pleas.

They only ever did it one way, face to face, the skin covering their hearts pressed together almost to the point of meshing. She didn't know how it had started, except that one day he had looked at her with that one eye and it said more than anyone's two eyes had ever said to her, it said I want you. In no uncertain terms. He flicked a thumb somewhere over his left shoulder, and then sauntered away.

So she did something stupid- she dropped her lunch tray onto the table, stunning Allen with the sudden slam, and followed him.

"Lenalee, where are you going? Lenalee?" She didn't answer, because she didn't rightfully know. He was the snake charmer, she was the serpent. She was the rat, and he was the Pied Piper. Her mind thrummed with a chant of wanting, of heat, of images of what was to come. Lavi.

She followed his echoing footsteps through the stone halls she'd almost memorized, watching her feet the whole way. Her Dark Boots seemed darker than ever, she thought, maybe her Innocence was displeased.

She didn't care, though, as Lavi's bright shock of hair halted in front of a generic white door with golden numbers. 314. She'd remember that number in her dreams, from then on.

It wasn't his room, nor was it hers. Not his, because of Bookman, not her own, because, well, Komui. It was vacant, with only a bed and a dresser inside, the bed done in plain white linen. No words were exchanged, unless breaths and caresses had become words. Love me.

Their lips slammed together, a collision meant to hurt, just so they both knew they were feeling it. That this was real and for a few seconds, it meant something. That maybe this mingling of teeth and tongues wasn't a marriage of fifty years, but it was guaranteed to hold together for fifty minutes.

It took that long, because although every movement was fevered and harsh, he was slow. He kissed her with every fiber of feeling he'd ever had, and he thought if I give them to her, what am I? He didn't care. She kissed back with equal ferocity, and soon neither of them knew who was giving and who was taking.

That was all it was for what felt like hours but was really about ten minutes, his weight settling over her, but not crushing her, making her feel safe. He was a blanket. Lavi smelled like a forest, felt like a flame, kissed like he'd die tomorrow. His incisors stroked at her lower lip, her tongue tickling the roof of his mouth until he broke off the kiss for laughing. Their tongues danced, not swordplay but the swipe of silk on silk, gentle and slower than shifting sand.

He was so gentle, half-gloved hands moving softly to the small of her back, tracing circles over her Order jacket. Her hands were more intrepid, pushing him upward to unbutton his coat, and then pulling his thermal shirt over his head. The buttons caught on his bandanna, pulling it off and spilling the carefully spiked locks of hair. He pulled away and looked at her, seeming like he was going to speak.

"Lena, I-"

"Shh." And she threaded both hands into his hair, pulling his weight back onto her. There wasn't any more speech, not until it was almost over. He realized how silly it was to still have his gloves on, and removed them by running their edges against her belt until they turned inside out. The gloves in question were thrown to the floor.

She thought it was stupid for her to still be fully clothed, so she moved his hands to her jacket buttons, and seemed to glare, Go on then, this is what you want. What I want. Come on, then.

He took that invitation, never ceasing to kiss her while his fingers pushed at the stubborn fasteners, shoving the material off her shoulders and down her arms. It pooled underneath her, as neither one of them wanted to get up. Lavi was pleasantly surprised in that she wasn't wearing a shirt underneath her coat. It was summer, though, and Order uniforms were notoriously hot. He shrugged, leaving her curious as to what he was mentally discarding, and dropped his head to her neck, licking at her pulse point and fluttering his eyelashes beneath her jaw. She inhaled sharply, her hands tightening on his hair.

Lenalee felt him smile against her throat, and was determined through her fog of desire to wipe that smirk off his face. She reached down beneath his face, releasing his hair, and fumbled with the front clasp of her bra, exposing her breasts to the air.

She wasn't anything special in that department, but he definitely noticed, and shifted his attentions to this newly opened recreational area. His lips dragged a torturous path down her chest, pausing on the pillowy flesh of her left breast, savoring its softness momentarily. She could feel her knees quivering in twisted anticipation, enjoying the teasing almost as much as the idea of what was coming. And come it did.

He flicked his tongue gently across her nipple, smirking again when she gasped, almost shouted, his name. She didn't cry out again, only shifted against him and whimpered as he took the inflamed flesh into his mouth and sucked firmly. His hand rose to give her other nipple gentle tweaks.

He couldn't see the flush on her face, but he knew it must be there. Why else would she wrench his head up and kiss him again, switching their positions to make her the dominant one, straddling his lap? Lavi took a moment to admire her, naked from the waist up, panting with want, and all his, for now. These thoughts were interrupted when her hands dropped to his belt and undid it almost too quickly, raising questions about her supposed virginity. His pants were undone almost as fast, joining his gloves on the floor. Tight black boxer briefs were all that separated his raging, rather painful erection from her, but she didn't want to give him that satisfaction yet.

He groaned deeply as she leaned over him again, kissing him firmly and rocking her hips into his. Her hands cradled his head, gentle this time, as she grinded into him like tomorrow would never come. Lavi couldn't help it, he pushed back, his hips lifting them off the mattress at times. That was enough of this, he decided, hands dipping to the hem of her skirt and up. She was saturated, incredibly so, and stopped moving as soon as one of his digits brushed up her thigh. A strangled "Mmm…" was heard as he pulled his hands away and hooked his thumbs in her panties, pulling them down her thighs and causing the need for some adjustments in position before he could pull them off entirely. They were plain, grey cotton things, not meant to be seductive, proof that she hadn't planned this, either. He hadn't meant for this to happen when it did, but she's so damn pretty, like a doll, like something you collect and covet and…keep?

There, he'd thought it, he wanted to keep her. That couldn't be, but this way, he could claim her. He'd be the first, though not the only.

Stop thinking, her hands on his chest seemed to say. Let it happen. And even if she would've said nothing of the sort, he encouraged her to recline onto the pillow and stroked gently around her slit, using one finger to test the waters. She was lovely, soft and warm and real, and she tilted her head back and emitted an "Aahhh…" that could only mean one thing. Carry on, soldier.

So he did, spreading her folds with his left hand, the thumb of his right going immediately to the one place he knew all females shared, pressing firmly on the quivering spot he was sure would set her reeling. She nearly screamed, locking in his suspicion that she'd never been touched that way, maybe not even by her own hand. Lenalee's knuckles were white, hands fisting the thin sheets as Lavi pushed one finger inside her, moving slowly in and out. It didn't hurt, not at all, but it was entirely new. When one finger became two, she gasped in pleasure. When his thumb returned to its previous work and he curled his exploring digits upward, she came apart completely. A slow, keening wail erupted from her vocal cords.

White was all she could see, drown in, taste. A white as hot as candle flame and sweet as summer. It was the release of muscle tension you got when you stretched your legs, multiplied by thousands. It was a release of tension that had been building all her life, and she was lost inside it. It seemed days before she came down, though it was only seconds, and she was crying. Tears streamed down her face, and she thought I am blessed this is mine to keep and remember and thank you God it was meant to be this way blessed blessed oh God Lavi, Lavi, Lavi.

He seemed to know, when she looked up at him, what she'd been through. I walked through heaven and you're still here. He didn't smirk. He didn't smile, much. He just kissed the corners of her eyes and stroked her leg, motioned toward her boots. She hadn't thought about them, but Innocence had no place in the removal of its physical counterpart. Lenalee had to concentrate, but they came loose rapidly, landing on top of the growing pile of clothing near the door.

Her hands settled on his waist, pulling him up and over her once more, scrabbling at the flesh disappearing into his underwear. He smiled at that, kissing her hard and peeling off the offending garment himself. There were no barriers, anymore, but he hesitated. If I do this, she'll fall for me. And I can't give her that. But she wants this, and I want this, and Let it happen it was meant to be this way as her hands reached up to wrap around the most sensitive piece of him, fingers dancing over the tender tip, pulling gently as though scared to hurt him. Lavi knew then that she had signed on for this, and leaned down to kiss her to silence the scream he knew was coming.

She wasn't ready, no, she could never have prepared for this. It wasn't the stretching and the breaking, it was the complete knowledge that she wasn't alone. There was someone else sharing her body for a short time, and she thought of that as the stinging, snapping pain subsided. It was uncomfortable, still, but she kissed him back, imitating their earlier embrace, slow dance of tongues as she moved a hand to his lower back and pressed him inward, onward.

He groaned, gritted teeth, feeling as though he would never be fully inside, and just when he almost lost it, he was. They were joined in the most intimate way anyone could be, and he for once was sharing his body space with someone else and who am I? Am I Lavi, or Lenalee, or everyone all at once? That didn't matter as he pushed in again, deeper, harder, increasing the friction. His hips began a cyclical forward rotation, foraying into uncharted territory, and she met him by pushing into his movements and clenching as hard as she could, panting something that could have been more.

It was short, sudden, as she gasped his name and skyrocketed into the stars one more time. He felt rather than saw the effects this time, the contractions of her inner walls more than he could bear. Lavi bit down on her shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and shuddered in a vehement blaze of glory. It was almost the same every time, but nothing, he'd swear nothing had ever been this good. She was astounded at the heat invading her, as though he was really burning, and she swept her hands across the feverish skin of his back in order to remedy his shaking.

His arms gave out, and he collapsed, sweaty and he's completely glorious onto her. She exhaled, more of a "Heh" than anything, and turned them into a more manageable side-by-side position. They slept that way, unaware that the entire Order was looking for them, but no one thought to look in an out-of-the-way corridor in the south wing.

The moon was coming in through the tiny window when she awoke to find his head pillowed on her stomach. He shifted and draped an arm over her.

She didn't regret it, but somehow, she felt the need to leave. Some way, she extricated herself from his hold and dressed, carrying the manifestation of her Innocence in her hand. Lenalee padded barefoot down the halls to her room, realizing how late it was when everything was silent. It was good, she thought, because her mirror showed that she looked completely debauched. Hair mussed, sweaty, eyes bleary, limbs quaking. Lavi was here, is what all that means. She knew she should shower, but she wanted to keep this, just a little longer.

He woke up soon after, realizing she was gone, and departed himself. I can't keep her. I can have her, but not forever. And she wants more than that.

Still, it was daily now that they met in some out-of-the-way room, moving in tandem, keeping the act as soundless as possible.

She needed him, some semblance of love, even though she knew he couldn't, and she knew that he needed her to keep him grounded here. Otherwise, he'd float away to block out the sound and the pain.

It was after one of these meetings that he spoke to her for the first time in this setting. "One day, I'll be gone, and no one will remember me. I'll just go, and they'll all move on." He knew that was a lie. She'd know he was missing, every second of every lifetime, because he'd made it impossible for her to be otherwise.

She didn't think he was still awake when she thought of an answer and stole the ring from his right hand. Stupid, silly, perfect Lavi…my Lavi, for now…I couldn't forget this if I tried.

She slid the dark metal of the too-big ring onto her left hand, onto a very significant finger. Because they were all going to die, and soon, and this was the closest she'd ever be to the real thing. Because every time she kissed him, she was asking him to come to her funeral, and remember her. Bookmen remembered everything.

Because a sixteen-year-old girl fighting for her life and everyone else's has to be able to dream of a world where she can marry the boy who will never love her back.

Because a teenage girl caught in a world she doesn't understand has to dream one she does.


I think I'm right in saying that was much less profound than I intended.

Ah, well, something just told me to write this. I was inspired by a poem by Olena Kalytiak Davis, which I don't own, and by the song "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry, which is great and also something I don't own!

I love Laven, Lucky, LaviYuu…but yeah. This.

Please review if you love it, hate it, want to kill me, anything you have to say!

Or I'll pull a SisterWicked and send mean PMs to people who alert/fave and don't review.

Maybe I'm kidding. Or not. :)

Love, Swiss