Title: Lelouch's Vehicular Journey

Disclaimer: Code Geass is the property of Sunrise

Warning: lime het smut

Author's Note: I'd be glad to accept correction for any mistake – be it spelling, punctuation, grammatical or misinformation. Again, I use British English for this story (hence, there are occasional spelling and punctuation differences).

The sky was as murky as it could be, but even its procession of dark clouds had no capability of rivalling the murkiness within a man's heart. Two more weeks, he reminded himself. The Zero Requiem must succeed at any cost.

The young emperor parted the curtain window and looked through its one-way glass. A reflection – hair as dark as obsidian and eyes as deep as amethyst – emerged on the frigid glass. The Demon Emperor – what a ruler he had been! But what of it? He didn't need his name to be immortalised into an airport or something else of similar nature.

Along with this reflection appeared the bucolic scenery of low stone fenced farmers' cottages on the glens that seemed to move backwards as his imperial carriage advanced. Although it was called a 'carriage', in reality, the vehicle resembled a conventional carriage in appearance only. Underneath its elaborately gold-gilded ornaments, its features were essentially those of a knightmare – missile-proof steel frame, radar and firearms equipments and, of course, sakuradite fuel. Around it, other cars and knightmares escorted the emperor in a royal convoy.

Just as the muddy ground needs rain to erase the traces of footprints, hooves and wheels on its surface, the Britannian throne needs a new emperor to start anew, he pondered, convincing himself that it was indeed necessary for the Zero Requiem plan to come into being. Within two weeks, the pilot of the Lancelot Knightmare flying high overhead would erase his tyrannical reign. Within two weeks, his best friend would relieve him of all his burdens. Within two weeks, his greatest foe would put an end to his life.

'Why so pensive?' A familiar voice interrupted his train of thoughts – too familiar for his liking.

When the question remained ignored, a smooth hand glided along the length of his thigh.

'Remind me why we are here in the first place,' growled the current emperor in an irritated tone.

Another, the only other, passenger within that couch, who was a girl with fair green tresses silkily replied, 'We are on our way to have an audience with Duke Upperhill, Lelouch.'

'Archduke, C.C.,' he corrected.

'And that does not explain why your hand is on my pants. The top centre of my pants,' removing her hand, he asseverated his point with a glare upon seeing her provocative glance.

'It's because you were in such a hurry while trying to finish your breakfast,' calmly she answered, 'Look, you've still got some remains of orange juice there.'

'You are still not answering why you molested me in broad daylight.' Lelouch wiped his mouth with the fabric of his sleeve, but apparently to no avail, since C.C.'s mouth curled even more upwards. He looked away; the more he looked at her, the more vexed he became. In truth, he knew what she meant: by finishing his breakfast early on the dining table, he neglected their habitual breakfast in bed – with sex as an accompaniment, needless to say.

To this, she emitted a low chuckle. 'You could just ask me to clean those stains for you.'

'That is not necessary.' He disliked the derisive, flirty tone she was using.

'Certainly, if Your Imperial Majesty the Emperor of the Holy Britannia Empire would rather be publicly seen in such a state.'

What is it that makes this witch always get what she wants? groaned the young emperor in his mind. 'Fine, do it!'

He should have known better than to speak to her in such imperative voice, but when he did, it had already been too late.

He could feel her hand coming even as he kept his gaze averted. She compelled him to return to face her by the adeptness of her tongue, though not by means of words. His eyes widened at the swipe of wetness at the corner of his mouth. Her lick travelled downwards; she had nipped his Adam's apple before he had the chance to utter any protest.

Her deft fingers were undoing his third button when realisation snapped back at him. He caught her wrists at once. This, however, did not prevent her from delegating her tongue to dance upon his cream-coloured collarbone.

'C.C., you're a girl!' His cheeks suffused with warmth, for how could he not be abashed when the nubs on his chest stiffened at the mercy of her tongue?

'So? I will ensure that your penis penetrates my vagina as per our routines. If it's sodomy that you fear—'

'That's not the issue here!' Lelouch cut her off in a vain attempt to prevent his blush from deepening at the girl's obscenity, while the speaker herself remained quite unfazed. 'It is not you who is supposed to ensure my ...' after swallowing thickly, he managed to choose out a word he deemed not vulgar, '… advance.' Then, perceiving the absence of chagrin in her demeanour, he quickly added, 'I am the one who is supposed to initiate the courting.'

'Ah, but since you did not bother to start the initiation, I've decided to aid you.' She halted her tongue work to answer him and put his proud lance under the care of her no-less-crafty hand, proceeding to torture him more tantalisingly.

Through ragged breath and pumped adrenaline, he barked, 'Why are you doing this?'

'Who knows?' She threw her long hair out of the way, 'A revenge, perhaps?'

Lelouch gritted his teeth, struggling with all his might to stay still. His back urged him to arch. Unvoiced groans urged him to be liberated from the confinement of his throat. Even his lower anatomy betrayed him into a blatant swell of promiscuity.

'What did I wrong you?' By that, he meant that he did not forget to instruct the royal chef to bake a pizza whenever C.C. demanded one.

'Oh, nothing. Just not offering me the title of the 99th Empress of Holy Britannia. And now, you are on your way to be offered the Archduke's daughter as your concubine.' She smirked briefly before continuing her tongue ministration on his nether part.

The young man's diaphragm was conspicuously inflating and deflating from the result of suppressing his moans. Indignation flared in his eyes, yet he remained impotent against the power she held over him – the man in whose authority laid the power to tear the world asunder. 'By what presumption do you suppose that I'm going to accept that bootlicker's proposal? Besides, you are no consort of mine; you're merely an accomplice.'

There was an ephemeral pause during which C.C. stared at him without speaking. But then, her smirk faltered into mellifluous words, 'In that case, allow me to demonstrate the sort of things an accomplice can do, sire.'

Lelouch could not be too careful when he heard the last two syllables coming out of C.C.'s mouth, for she would not have called him that without a good cause. Naturally, his precaution was not reasonless. Before he could even blink, she had already climbed atop of him, straddling him by the thighs before immodestly twining her limbs around his. The next thing he knew was that she slid down, impaling her body onto his, without the slightest hesitation.

She was wet inside, and a part of him was proud that his body made her so, but the rest kept reminding him that he should not meet the archduke whilst limping. He bit his lip, more ashamed of himself for not rejecting her contribution than the effect of the contribution itself.

He loathed her. He loathed the serene, all-knowing expression directly above his countenance, to be precise. She might have the ageless beauty and the unblemished body of a porcelain doll, but she also possessed a significantly independent mind to a degree where his existence was not indispensable to her. It wouldn't pose her a problem to choose a new geass receiver after he was gone, he thought. Why couldn't she be his and exclusively his?


He ought to push her away. He ought to push the security button underneath the armrest of his couch and summon his guards. He ought to restrain this ignominious carnal desire of his. Except that he couldn't. She was so warm, so soft, so accommodating, so … good. The moment he slipped between the moist folds of her clamping femininity, she consumed his self-control.

It was only a matter of time before his body betrayed his mind, and depraved passion ousted his remaining conscience. Inside her, there was no emperor. Inside her, there was only a boy. And this boy craved for her flesh, her curvatures, her gasps, her motions, her everything.

Amidst the alternating bites and kisses on her torso, she draped her arms over his back. Never did she mention any word of affection; he had no need for that. Or at least, he had no need for such intimate words to emerge from her lips. With everything that they'd been through and the imminently bleak future, wouldn't it far easier to pretend that this was a mere lust-driven activity to pass the time? She was his geass granter – a tool to achieve his goals. A pawn. Well, perhaps her worth was more than that of a pawn. Still, even a queen on the chessboard was no queen in real life.

With every in, he pressed harder against her. With every out, she answered him with equal need. His arms drew her torso closer onto his own, as though he needed to feed on the frictions of their partially exposed skins. A coil of pleasure coursed through his whole being and tightened within his midsection until it exploded outwards. He filled her in exchange for the feminine essence she doused him. As her moisture dripped torridly down his shaft, his orbs of amethyst never once left her jade ones. Together their heartbeats raced towards completion and together their heartbeats slowed down their paces in the afterglow.

As the two of them smoothened their crumpled attire several minutes later, she bent, lowering her lips at the hollow of his throat in a whisper, 'Remember this: when I am with you, vehicular journey and sex go hand-in-hand.'