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Martyrs, Thieves, and Beasts, Beloved.

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Says to himself

The boy's no good. The boy is just no good. but he takes you in his arms and pushes your flesh around to see if you could ever be ugly to him. You, the now familiar whipping boy, but you're beautiful, he can feel the dogs licking his heart. Who gets the whip and who gets the hoops of flame? He hits you and he hits you and he hits you. Desire driving his hands right into your body. Hush, my sweet. These tornadoes are for you. You wanted to think of yourself as someone who did these kinds of things. You wanted to be in love and he happened to get in the way. -A Primer For The Small Weird Loves, Richard Siken



Everything had happened so quickly, in the end Emil had felt worse than useless. He felt responsible, and now he'd lost someone he'd only just barely gotten to have after so long alone. Kaine was hard to understand, but she was also kind in a way that most people weren't. Not that he had a lot of experience with that, either he supposed. Kaine... she was like a sister. He'd always wanted a sister. It was like a mysterious hole in his life that he couldn't explain. Of course, he felt bad projecting that on her but he couldn't help it either.

He was still hurting, still raw—but he supposed that Nier had it worse than he did. At least Emil was used to being alone. He was used to the fog of too many memories jammed into his brain to be able to hold them all. Used to prioritizing the ones that were most important or served his current task and letting the others be eaten away like metal by rust. If he didn't need it now, it wasn't that important. It couldn't be. That was what he told himself as he promised over and over that he was going to find a way to fix this.

It had been nearly two and a half years since that day, and he'd combed through less than a third of the library and the documents in his manor with Sebastian's help. At first, he'd tried to get Nier to come and read to him. He'd hoped that they could help each other on the search, but most of his requests were declined with silence. It was rare for Nier to come visit, and so Emil made it a point to have Sebastian walk him across the Southern Plains whenever the sun was bright enough to ward off the worst of the Shades.

Emil liked to feel the sun on his skin and imagine what everything looked like from the light dancing against his blindfold. Once, he'd stolen a peek of the ocean but just for a moment. He felt guilty immediately wondering if his eyes could turn the whole of it to stone.

The sounds of Nier's village could be disorienting for him. His sense of sound was acute, but the presence of so many people made it hard to tell where anything was. He walked, clutching Sebastian's arm as he tried not to think about how stiff the man's movements had gotten in recent years. He'd always been with him but... how was that possible? How many years had it been since—since what exactly? He couldn't remember. It must not have been important...

"Emil? Is everything alright?" A familiar voice made the boy lift his head and he gave a small nod.

He supposed it was a fair question. At least once before, his sudden appearance had meant disaster for this village. He smiled in the direction that he thought he'd heard Devola's voice come from and shook his head quickly.

"No, nothing wrong. I was just getting a bit antsy, I guess. It's really quiet back at my house, y'know?" It sounded lame, but he stuck to his guns.

"You're here for him." She said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement that came off nearly cryptic in her tone. She shifted, the sound of her feet on the cobblestones making Emil tilt his head slightly.

Despite himself, Emil fidgeted with his sash, fingertips pressing into the familiar silken fabric. He felt himself edging closer to the twin, his tone conspiratorial.

"Has he been eating? Sleeping? He's gotten a little better since I last came, right?" It was more of a plea than anything

Devola paused, and he thought she must be weighing how best to answer him. He supposed when they looked at him, they saw a child. Everyone always would. He pressed his lips into a line.

"Well... I mean, he's alive, y'know? That guy doesn't listen to anybody. But I guess I can see where he's coming from. If I lost my sister I don't know what I'd do..." She trailed off for a moment.

"He's here, though?" Emil asked, his tone hopeful.

"Should be back by now, probably." A beat. "Old man, you're looking kinda rough. I'll make sure Emil gets back, okay?"

Emil could picture his imagined version of Sebastian blinking in that strange, stiff way of his. He got a prickly, tingly feeling as if there was something unspoken going on between the two of them. Then, after what was far too long a pause to be comfortable, his companion spoke. He could've sworn he caught an odd, unnatural crackle in the tone.

"Yes of course Miss Devola. Please take good care of the young master, I do worry for him so."

"We all do." She answered.

Again, Emil felt as though he were stuck between two people who considered themselves adults. Two people who knew things that he did not. It felt much like it had when Sebastian had gone over his head and written letters to find a hero to rescue him. But he had been rescued, hadn't he? And Emil didn't mind the thought of it when he thought of Nier being his rescuer.

Passed from one minder to the next, Emil turned over his head and bid his butler a safe journey. Though it wasn't far, there were still Shades to consider in their ever greater numbers.

"Did you run into any trouble on the way?" Devola asked, trying to be conversational.

"No, actually. It was quiet and the wind was blowing just a little. It smelled sweet, like clover and the sea!" Emil answered.

"Huh... He's been working double time." She half responded, half muttered.

"He's still overworking himself. I've sent a couple of letters but aside from the times he shows up on his own..."

"Yeah, he's like that. Tell you what: send them to me or Popola, and we'll hunt him down and make him read them, okay?" He laughed at that and flushed a bit. Maybe they were babying him a bit too much.

"I appreciate it. Really, I do."

They came to a stop in their walk after the cobblestones gave way to a packed earth path, and she helped Emil settle on what he assumed was a smooth stone or brick bench; maybe the remnants of an old wall. He felt the surface with his hands as he absently kicked his feet against the base of it.

"Wait here and don't move around too much, you're not far from the river." She said.

Emil didn't have the heart or energy to correct her. He could hear it just fine, away from the market place crowd. Instead, he thanked her and lifted his chin as her footsteps receded, letting the wind tousle his hair. Would Nier be mad at him for bothering him like this when he hadn't really found anything of use? There was so much old world knowledge talking about things and places that he didn't understand. Sometimes, things would spark strange and distant feelings in him, but he figured it would do the same for anyone. The more he read—or the more Sebastian recited back to him—the more he worried he was losing his own memories, the more he thought there was something terribly important that he couldn't remember. It was like the truth was just out of reach, eaten away and eroded.

For years, he'd tried not to let it bother him that he couldn't remember why anything was the way it was. Why he never aged, even though he felt like it had been so many years since—since... since what? There it was again, that odd, awful scratching at the inside of his head. The worry had started to spiral out of control again just when he heard a voice and feet approaching him at a trot. The voice was familiar, but it had gotten deeper since he'd last heard it, he thought.

"Emil? Is everything alright? I came as soon as Devola said..." He trailed off as he approached as if he'd realized that whatever feigned urgency the redhead had affected was obviously a ruse.

"Oh! I'm alright, please don't worry. What did Devola say—Better not tell me actually," He said, all a bluster.

"I'm glad you're alright. She just. Said you seemed pretty urgent." He answered, drifting closer.

Each footstep that brought him nearer made Emil's heart stammer in its beating. He could sense him now. He was taller, definitely. Something that Emil himself would never experience.

"She didn't have to do that." He knew she did it to be nice to him. Emil didn't feel like he deserved it.

Nier shifted again and let out a long half-sigh that sounded like a barely repressed acknowledgement of defeat.

"Then why are you here?" It wasn't angry or accusatory. Just a simple question.

Emil folded his hands over his knee and felt himself grow slightly tense. Now that he was here, what did he say? He found a hem and plucked at it a couple of times, willing himself not to stammer though he felt heat rising in his cheeks. Maybe it was just from the sun.

"I just. Well. I'm concerned about you. I know after everything who can blame you but. Don't you think you're over doing it? You can't keep going like this forever. If you break down or get hurt, who's going to take care of everything?" He was just being honest.

It seemed as though the air around them had chilled. "So you want me to come rot away in that dusty old manor for a while. Sit on my hands and read books. Books aren't going to stop the Shades. Books aren't going to save Yonah." Nier answered tersely.

The warmth that had risen in him was doused by the feeling of ice sliding down his back. He was embarrassed. Despite not being able to see, he looked away from the sound of Nier's voice.

"I... Kaine's not here. Yonah too. But. But I am." His words masked his silent plea. I don't want to be alone anymore.

The tense moment was interrupted not by them, but by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Oh. In all seriousness, Emil would admit to completely forgetting that Weiss was probably there. There was an exasperated sigh and then a thud. Nier yelped and stumbled forward, directly into Emil.

"Weiss, what the hell?!" Nier snapped, his hands clutching at Emil's shoulders to keep himself from losing his footing.

Emil found his face pressed against Nier's chest, nestled cleanly between the muscular mounds of his--

"What are you, good for nothing? Oh yes, very good at killing Shades, very good at smashing things. You're turning into a complete caveman, lad. It's not a good look." The disembodied voice chided.

"I'm turning into. A. A what?" He spluttered indignantly as he righted himself and instinctively smoothed Emil's jacket a bit by way of apology.

"I... don't know, actually. But that's beside the point!" There was a sound that was unmistakably the sound of many pages flapping in the wind. "I already have to bear witness to you running yourself into the ground. I'll not do the same with you and your boy!" Weiss snapped—though really, when was he not snapping?

Nier had gone quiet, leaving Emil's pounding heart his only guide to the mood. A moment later, he sank down on the wall next to his companion, seemingly deflated. Emil wondered what Weiss had hit him with, or if he had simply thrown himself at him. The thought was funny enough that he nearly had to suppress a giggle. He tried to glaze over that last comment—how Weiss had called him Nier's boy. It made it hard to breathe to think about for too long.

"I'm... sorry. Emil. I know you've been writing me it's just. I just. I can't stop. Okay?" Nier said lowly.

"I know. I'm not asking you to stay. I just want you to try to rest. Just for a little while... don't think about everything bad." Emil offered.

"Easy for you to say."

That edge kept cutting through all of his attempts, and Emil was starting to get desperate. It wasn't that he wanted to pull him away from his work, he just wanted to help him get out of his head. Without thinking, he turned his torso towards the other boy and reached out. His hand grazed Nier's cheek and passed into his hair, recently shorn from its long knotted style as if to show a physical manifestation of his grief. It was soft as strands of silk.

Emil's thread of hope was snapped at the sudden sound of disgust that came from Nier's mouth and the snap of his hand against Emil's fingers. He all but shoved him away and got to his feet.

"No." In fact, it was all he said.

"Oh, now you've gone and—Lad, where are you going—you get back here!" Weiss' voice faded with Nier's retreating footsteps and Emil lingered, frozen like he himself had been petrified. He'd gone too far. He'd showed yet another reason why he was weird. Untouchable. Undesirable. He couldn't help his attraction to the other boy any more than he could help the fact that he was simply attracted to other boys in general.

Before he realized what was happening, there were tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to cry. He hated crying. It made his blindfold wet and scratchy, but the sense of failure, the sense of loss overwhelmed him. Emil got to his feet and bumbled his way back through the marketplace in search of the exit to the Southern Plains without another thought.


Nier paced aimlessly where his parents' plot of land sloped down towards the river. He knew now that he had had a moment to calm down that Emil had meant him no harm. His mind had simply ignited with the pain of a memory he'd tried to bury of another man who had laid hands on him. Ever since then, he hadn't been able to bear someone touching his hair like that without the echoes of his murderous rage rising up in his throat like bile.

It wasn't Emil's fault. Emil had only ever touched him with tenderness and love. It was different. Why was it so different? Why did he like it?

He stopped and shoved his hands back through his hair when he caught Weiss hovering nearby idly flipping his pages. He'd learned by now that it was something he did often when he was irritated. He kicked at a rock, full lips pulled into a scowl.

"Go ahead Weiss, say it." He growled.

"Say what? Me? I've never had anything to say in my entire life!" He must've really pissed him off if Weiss of all people was giving him the silent treatment.

Now that he was alone with his thoughts and the sun was sinking lower (as low as it ever got,) Nier found himself crouching at the water's edge, his chest aching. He knew that normal people wanted to touch each other. They especially wanted to touch those they loved. He wasn't a stranger to desire, though he'd only ever used his good looks and sweet smile to manipulate people into money. He realized then that he was almost definitely more experienced in all of this than Emil. Emil spent his days cloistered and alone, probably desperate for a touch of kindness. Something about the realization lit a fire in his belly that he couldn't explain.

All these years he'd been making himself into an object of desire for others, all for Yonah. Because he had seen this as a means to an end, he had never thought of his own tastes and wants aside from seeing Yonah safe. What about his own desires? Didn't normal people have them—wasn't that exactly why he could make a living the way he had before he'd turned to Shade hunting entirely? Emil wasn't that man, or those men, or anyone but Emil: Sweet, gentle, long-suffering Emil who had probably never known that kind of touch, that kind of pleasure.

And he wasn't a stranger to it either. Just because he thought of those encounters as merely 'work' didn't mean he hadn't become personally aware of the pleasure of such copulation. The moment was like a lightning bolt coursing through him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he couldn't even hear Weiss making noises of frustration and irritation, clearly expecting his companion to challenge him on his threat of silence and not getting his way.

People had those kinds of relations all the time, purely for pleasure. For love. For connection. He'd thought of nothing but Yonah for so long that he had neglected his companions. In some ways, he'd even forgotten Kaine, whose predicament wracked him with guilt even now. He felt guilt for his buried resentment for this situation like an iron ball in his gut. If only it wasn't for Yonah—no, he'd banished those thoughts when he was young and petulant and spoiled.

He picked up his sword from where he'd left it and adjusted one of many belts and buckles as he looked towards the market place and the south gate. He could give Emil what he wanted. What he needed. If it was a commodity that people paid for, surely that most human of desires could be used in other ways. And the truth was, he really didn't mind the idea of Emil touching his hair again.

Weiss might as well have been blowing raspberries at him as he trotted back around the bend toward the bridge and leaned down to cut a handful of lavender at the stem with his blade, then darted into the crowd to make his way to the opposite gate.


Emil wasn't sulking. That wasn't in his nature. He was, however feeling more acutely the weight of his solitude. It was comfortable, like a well-worn blanket—though the dust seemed a bit more pronounced than he was used to. He'd had Sebastian draw him a bath, and he'd soaked until his skin was red and pruny before re-dressing in his pajamas and returning to his room. He'd thought about playing for a bit; music was one of the few solaces that he could manage on his own—but just ended up staring into the darkness behind his eyes after picking at a few keys. It just wasn't like him to be so hung up on something like this!

Sighing, he moved to the settee and stretched out, the linen of his nightshirt draped around him as he tried to get his mind to settle into something calm. He was worried about Nier. That had been his intention from the start—to try to get him to stop running himself into the ground. So why was it the slap against his hand that had hurt the most? Emil was ashamed of how often he thought of the other boy. His body may have been unchanging, trapped on the precipice of becoming for countless years: but his mind was not. Emil had known for a while that he liked men—men that he could never be, who could never want him as an equal, as a man just the same as them—


"The library? Yes of course good sirs, if it please you." Nier followed after Sebastian, wishing that traversing the Southern Plains hadn't left him smelling like the sun and probably sweat, even if it was a brisk day.

"The library? Don't tell me you've suddenly developed a taste for old world literature," Weiss droned. He seemed to have forgotten his dedication to the silent treatment bit. It was only a matter of time with someone like him.

"I'm not going to read." Nier answered matter-of-factly as Sebastian opened the door for them.

Nier passed inside, noting the piles of books on tables and the fact that most of the damage from the fight with Rubrum had been repaired or at the very least scrubbed clean. He nodded as though to himself, and then reached up and grabbed Weiss from the by the spine as though he were a common book.

"What are you doing?! Put me down this instant lad--"

"Weiss, you should try making some friends." Nier said pleasantly—and proceeded to stuff him into an empty slot on a shelf.

Weiss rattled about, trying to orient himself while he hurled a torrent of insults and complaints in Nier's direction as he sped for the door—managing to shut it just in time to hear a loud 'thud' against the wood.

"You open this door this instant or I'll--"

"Weiss. Look. Just give me this okay? A wingman is the last thing I need right now."

"The nerve of you, you little--" He stopped. "Oh. Oh I see. Well in that case, carry on, I'm sure some of these ...weapon reports... will be ah... lovely conversationalists." He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Sebastian who watched on, mostly expressionless as always.

"Can you take me to Emil, now?"

"Of course."


The room was quiet, but so was everything in Emil's manor really. There were times when he thought it was a bit creepy—but maybe he was just used to the sound of village life around him. This was Emil's world, even if it seemed small and cramped. The lavender in his clenched fist was already slightly wilted, and he figured he himself was probably just as scrappy and unpresentable. He was about to get cold feet, but the supposedly sleeping form on the cushioned settee stirred.

"Sebastian?" Emil asked softly—though the question in his tone suggested he sensed that it was not in fact his butler.

Nier cleared his throat softly and looked at the plants in his hand. "No. It's um. Me." He answered awkwardly.

"Oh--!" Emil sat bolt-upright, smoothing his nightclothes and looking rather flustered.

Nier couldn't help but flush himself as he realized that Emil was wearing nothing but a thin linen night shift.

"I'm sorry, I can come back another time. I didn't even think--"

"No. Please stay." Emil answered quickly.

"I um. I brought you something. I know you can't see them but. They smell nice." He crossed the space between them and knelt down to gently put the lavender in one of Emil's slender hands. He took the bundle of stalks and breathed in their fragrance, smiling warmly. Good. At least Nier didn't hate him. That was a relief. This even seemed like an apology if he'd ever seen one. It was really very sweet.

"I got angry before. I'm sorry. There are things... things in my past and. I shouldn't have pushed you away. The truth is that I like it when you touch me. I like it more than I should." Nier said lowly.

Emil shifted, the lavender laid to rest in his lap. He could smell Nier himself too, the warmth of the sun on his skin that accentuated the almost sweet smell that was just his natural scent. There was something of a full-bodied shiver that ran through him, and he canted his head away even though he couldn't look at Nier either way.

"I want to touch you. I want you to touch me. I. I can't help it." Maybe it was because Nier was the only man he knew. Maybe it didn't matter. He wanted him to want him. He wanted to be desired, and it drove him to near maddening levels of want. For years now he'd kept it repressed and strangled, only for use in his most private of moments.

"Even though you can't see me or what I'm doing? Do you trust me?" Nier asked. His hands had gone cold, complexion blotchy from the anxiety of the moment. Was he really going to do this? Did it make him no better than the men who had selfishly desired him? Was he going to hurt Emil, too?

"Of course I trust you. I trust you more than anybody." Emil was ever earnest. Too earnest. It made something twist in Nier's chest. Something violent.

"You shouldn't." He said, and it came out as something that was almost a growl.

He knew it was the truth, and he hated himself. He despised himself as a man who would use others and throw them away in an instant if it would only help him attain his goal. He knew he was no better than the men that he had hated and cut down. It wasn't that he didn't care for Emil, that his desire and attraction wasn't real. It was the fact that he knew Emil was useful, that Emil's power could fight the Shadowlord. If this was what he wanted, what would keep him, then who was he to deny them both of their desires?

The moment hung between them, frozen in trepidation as Nier's eyes greedily accounted for the curve of Emil's jaw, the full pout of his pink lips: the way his shift hung loosely towards one shoulder, revealing the delicate curve of a collarbone and shoulder and an expanse of perfect porcelain skin.

Like the beast he knew he was, coiled to pounce, Nier lurched forward. His mouth found the slope of Emil's neck and he bit down to extract the yelp of shock that came from the boy. The lavender fell from his lap, scattered on the settee and the floor as Nier's weight pushed him back into the cushions. Those delicate hands flailed for a moment before finding purchase in Nier's clothes, pulling and yanking blindly as though he were trying to crush their bodies closer together rather than pushing the other boy away—and he should have. He should have been pushing him away.

Emil's hands slipped upward until he found Nier's head, and gripped his jaw with a force that left him shocked. Instead of pushing him though, he merely forced him upward and brought their lips together. The kiss was a sloppy mess, but Emil tasted sweet, and that was all that mattered. Nier kissed him until his lungs burned, until he was panting and his lips bruised-pink. All the while, his hands wandered the silken curve of the older boy's thighs and hips, greedy in their seeking. It was how Emil saw the world, through touch and smell and taste. He wanted to explore him in the same way.

Nier reached up and guided Emil's hands into his hair, determined to overcome the obstacle that had presented itself to them before. There was a moment of hesitation, and then Emil's fingers sank into his silvery strands as his face dipped between Emil's thighs. The smell of crushed lavender mingled with the delicate smell of soap from his bath, and Nier could no longer deny his own desire. As he kissed his way up the other boy's inner thigh, he was treated to a chorus of soft, breathy little sounds. Those precious hands gripped his hair, making his nerves sing.

"Wait I—I want. I want--! I want to... to feel you inside..." Emil uttered in a mess of embarrassed stammering.

Nier lifted his head, brows raised as he paused. "Slow down. I'll end up hurting you if you rush me," It was already enough of a chore to hold himself back in the first place.

Emil wasn't something to be used and thrown away, though he didn't hate the idea of leaving him trembling and crying. It made him feel monstrous. Maybe he was. Maybe Emil would like it.

Nier turned and pressed a kiss to Emil's lingering wrist before returning to his assault of kisses. He moved lower, back to where he was pressing kisses to the flat of his lower stomach, hands gripping supple thighs to spread them apart just that little bit more. He only paused a moment before taking the whole of him into his mouth.

"Oh god--!" Emil's thighs went tight against the sides of his head, as though he didn't know what to do with himself. Nier couldn't help but smirk against him as he worked his tongue against the swiftly hardening cock in his mouth. His reactions were cute. Painfully cute. There was something lovely about the lack of restraint. He hadn't learned any of the kind of shame that society had imparted to Nier out in the real world. It felt good to have this kind of effect on someone, and he wanted more, and that was all that mattered. Emil shook and twitched at each movement of Nier's tongue like a puppet on strings and he relished the control it made him feel he had over the older boy.

Emil's fingernails were digging into the back of his neck as he moved his head, leaving stinging little crescents behind in their wake. He liked it. He wanted Emil to hurt him more, really. It was dark. Everything was dark. None of it mattered. Nier's cheeks hollowed as he gave a rough suck on the flesh in his mouth and Emil's toes curled, his head lolled back as his entire body shook and tensed. There was a faint rush of something salty and bitter, all that his body was capable of producing as it was, and Nier pulled away after letting him arch and moan for several long moments.

The thin linen was beginning to cling to Emil's skin, a sheen of sweat showing through. Nier leaned up and tenderly brushed some strands of hair from his face.

"Are you alright?"

Emil was still panting, and in response he only managed a throaty: "More,"

Nier licked his lips, mind racing but having a hard time fighting through the haze of lust occupying him. He stared, transfixed by the other boy's body twitching and quivering, still sensitive from his first orgasm. His skin glistened from the saliva he'd left behind, but that probably wouldn't be enough to accommodate him.

"Please... please..." Emil began to plead with him, his hands groping for the closures on his doublet. Nier shushed him gently and peppered his face with warm kisses as he swiftly did the work of disrobing. Again, he returned to the thought he'd had before: He would give Emil anything he wanted. His free hand rifled through his bag until he found the bottle he was seeking. He uncapped it with his mouth and dropped the stopper, his other hand dragging Emil forward on the settee until he was dangling slightly off of the edge.

He disengaged to coat his own cock, now so hard that it hurt—and was preparing to position himself when Emil slid forward, straddling his lap. The shift in gravity pushed him back and made him grunt a bit. Even as he tried to brace himself, Emil pressed his hands to his chest to force him down onto his back. His slender fingers moved down over the rise of Nier's muscled chest. He lightly dragged his nails down further, eliciting a pleased groan and a twitch of the younger boy's hips.

Emil shifted his hips and Nier's eyes shot open as he rather suddenly slid down onto his cock. "Wait—don't hurt yourself--"

"I can take it," Emil hummed, the sound nearly a purr.

The sweet sound of his voice sent goosebumps rising all over his body, and Nier gripped Emil's thighs with a grip that had to be bruising.

"I want you to watch me," Emil continued as he experimentally rose up and then dropped back down. The motion made him cry out and bite his lip, a hand slipping down to palm at his own flagging erection.

Suddenly, Nier felt like he had been outclassed or simply—he hadn't considered that experience alone couldn't predict appetites and determination. It almost made him laugh. At the end of the day they were all broken, messed up people. None of them were right, each of them monstrous in their own way. So beneath the innocent face that everyone forced onto him, Emil was a minx with an unquenchable appetite. Somehow, it only made him want him more.

Emil began to ride his cock with an unmatched fervor, a half-smile on his lips that was nearly frightening as his tight hole squeezed the notable girth penetrating him. He moaned as if he'd never once felt shy about the thought. Despite reminding himself several times that he was surely more experienced than Emil, Nier found his control and his mind melting at the assault on his senses.

Emil pitched forward, sealing his lips against Nier's in another wild, brutal, kiss that was turning into something more teeth than lips. He bit down until he bled, as if determined to taste his lifeblood. Nier groaned and hissed, aware of the taste of his own blood even as he neared his limit.

"I—Ah—I'm close—I'm--" His warning was a garbled mess, but Emil didn't heed him for even a moment. The older boy pressed his hands into Nier's chest as he bared down, a chorus of sweet moans leaving him as Nier flooded his insides with his release. He shivered and twitched, riding out the wave of pleasure made longer by Emil's insistent movements. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't stopping.

"Fuck," The curse was little more than a hiss. He wasn't going to complain, it was just unexpected. It was clear that Emil wasn't yet satisfied. He envied the staying power that he too, remembered from his not-so-distant youth. With a snarl, he reached up and roughly grabbed Emil's shoulders before throwing him down onto his back.

He was beginning to understand now, why people paid for his 'services,' what the appeal of being buried inside of someone like this was--

He pushed and shifted until he was braced on either side of Emil's head, fingers digging into the plush rug beneath them. In the roughness of the motion he'd kept one of the smaller boy's legs trapped against his shoulder, and now pulled the other up to match. He could feel his own cum dripping down his shaft, each thrust forcing more of the mess out of Emil as he began to rut into him viciously.

"God you feel good," Nier said it as a near revelation.

It wasn't as if he'd never been fucked in a way that felt good—he knew that it did, that his body responded to what people did to him: But doing it like this was something else entirely. Wanting it this much, wanting to feel Emil come apart while he cried and moaned made it all make sense.

"D-Don't stop," Emil begged him, punctuated by what was nearly a cacophony of sobs. A warmth washed over him at the request. He wasn't hurting him. He wasn't demanding anything that wasn't being freely given. The feeling was incredible.

"Anything you want. Anything..." He muttered lowly and turned one hand so that he could cup the side of Emil's face, brushing his fingers through the sweat-dampened curls plastered against his cheek as he fucked into him.

"This. This is—all I've ever wanted. You. You, oh, god--" Nier felt him tense before he saw the effects of the second orgasm.

He kept fucking him, knowing selfishly that it'd take him longer to reach his second peak. If anything he redoubled his efforts, hips snapping so hard against Emil's smaller frame that his teeth rattled. Somewhere between ragged gasping the other boy managed: "S-Still c-cumming--!"

It drew a wolfish grin out of him, and he buried his face against Emil's thigh as he chased his high, struggling to ramp himself up again. Nier whimpered, a small broken noise that he was almost immediately embarrassed by and focused on the feeling of Emil's body clamping down on him. He was so close, but the crest just kept eluding him. Another frustrated snarl and Emil reached up suddenly, grabbing a fistful of the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling hard.

At first, it just hurt and bewildered him, and then, Emil's voice reached his ears; heady and sensual. "Come on... let go. I want you to cum for me. I want to be able to feel you inside of me forever."

It was almost... a creepy thing to say and yet—almost on command, Nier felt his body tense, the spike of pleasure driven through him enough to make him double over.

"Emil--!" The snarl of his name right against his ear made the boy tremble, and he realized as he emptied himself into him again that he too, had peaked as if from the sound of his name alone.

The rug was a mess, and they were both spent—utterly if the way his arms and legs had gone to jelly was anything to go by. Emil panted against him, clinging to his frame with his slender arms. He was waiting for the habitual guilt; for the feeling of having done something filthy and wrong to settle in—but there was only Emil stroking his hair as he rested his head on his narrow chest.

Finally, in the quiet as they both waited for their breathing to return to normal, Nier spoke.

"Y'know, just because you can just keep going doesn't mean I can." He grumbled hoarsely.

Emil let out a giggle like bells. "You seem to have kept up just fine. I guess my body isn't entirely a curse..." He mused.

"So... it's... You're really gonna be like that forever?" Nier felt a pang of pity, but he didn't let it show in his voice.

"Mmhm. The truth is, I'm pretty sure I'm already older than you. By a lot. But my memory is fuzzy, the further back I try to remember." He answered.

Nier was quiet for a while, both trying to make sense of that and dismissing it as not terribly important. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered something so odd.

"I think you're fine how you are. Whatever you look like, you're still Emil." The older boy curled closer to him and smiled at that, nestling against his side as he shifted and tried not to say anything about the mess dripping down his thigh.

"I think I’m going to need another bath." Nier spluttered a small peal of laughter in response.

"I was... just thinking that."

"You could join me." Emil hummed.

"Yeah but—maybe give me a little more time to recover before you get any uh... sultry ideas again." He pleaded.

"Mmmm, okay. I guess I can show you a little mercy." Emil teased.



Somewhere in the warm, dusty light of the library, Weiss laid listlessly on a table next to a pile of recently searched tomes. In the end, they were not good conversationalists at all. He flipped his pages absently. It didn't seem like he'd be going anywhere anytime soon—but it was about time those two had faced the music. He supposed a little nap couldn't hurt. Just a little one.