15/4 - Writing Exercise
Title: Wrong
Fandom: KKM
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Conrad/Cheri
Warnings: Smut, incest, non-con
Word count: 1214
Notes: The result of a conversation with Geika and Master. This turned out to be a lot more twisted than I meant it and I feel vaguely unclean now.
Summary: Anissina's pheromone perfume is more potent than anyone realized. Set post-Conrad's return from earth but pre-series.
Conrad comes back from Earth wrong.
He doesn't know that of course, not at first. Yozak meets him at the Shrine and it's just like it used to be. Yozak's still tall but he's filled out, solid muscle instead of the skinny promise he had during the war. Conrad's smile is real and Yozak pounds him on the back, grinning ear-to-ear.
"It's good to have you back, Captain!"
"Good to be back." Conrad says and he means it.
"You may change your mind about that." Yozak tells him on the ride back to the castle, expression dark. "Stoffel's still living in the Castle and your mother...Cheri-heika isn't well, Captain."
"Mother? What's wrong with her?" Conrad tenses up and his gelding dances sideways.
"She's ...well, she's been a little strange since von Beifeld divorced her." Yozak tries to explain.
Conrad is already tasting bile in the back of his throat as his stomach twists into the all-too-familiar knot of emotion. His mother...his memories of her are of dull colours and frumpy dresses and always, always Stoffel, one step behind her. He could quite cheerfully gut the man, leave him bleeding on the grass to wait for the death he was so eager to send others to face. Yozak tries to explain but he's 'just' a half-breed and Stoffel is still allergic to the idea of human blood.
Conrad arrives at Blood Pledge, still covered in the dust of another world. His brother and Gunter are waiting for him. Gwendal actually unbends enough to smile tersely and Conrad's own smile comes easier for it. Gwendal must be working too hard again, Conrad can feel the ribs under Gwendal's thick coat. Gunter is still playing the fop, hands clasped and starry-eyed. They haven't changed and Conrad is grateful for it.
Wolfram is elsewhere, Gwendal promises Conrad will see him when he gets back. Gwendal is called away almost at once, confirming Conrad's suspicions. Conrad asks after Gisela and Adelbert. Gunter keeps up a patter of light conversation until they arrive at the Maou's private chambers. He leaves Conrad there with a final "Good luck!" and Conrad is on his own.
He isn't sure what to expect but it's Mother and for all her faults, she loved him fiercely despite what anyone thought or said to her. Conrad owes her for that. He takes a deep breath and raps sharply on the door.
"Come iiiin!" His mother's voice rings out.
Conrad opens the door. A floral musk fills his nose and his first impression is Pink. Pink drapes, pink rug and a red-pink bedspread. His second impression is too unfocused to be described as thought. All he can think is that he certainly doesn't remember his mother looking like this!
She turns her head, long blonde curls dragged across the bare V of her cleavage. That's all he gets a chance to register before she's flinging her arms around his neck and laughing delightedly. Even her laughter isn't what he remembers it to be, deeper and richer. He hugs back, reflexively rather than intentionally. His arms are lower than he meant and soft flesh presses against the side of his hands.
It isn't an appropriate hug but, Conrad can't quite remember why it isn't appropriate to touch like that.
He spends the rest of the day in a daze, vaguely aware of his mother talking about Anissina's new perfume invention, her latest flower types and the latest gossip. He stumbles off to his musty room after dinner and stares at the ceiling for hours before he finally slips into uneasy sleep. His dreams are hazy, unsettling and Conrad wakes up, sheets stuck to his legs and hips, with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and still half-hard.
It's probably inevitable after that. Cheri is so delighted to have him back that Conrad can't protest when she adds him to her entourage. Gwendal purses his lips and allows that Conrad dancing attendance on their mother will keep Stoffel in line. Insofar as is possible. Conrad grits his teeth and obeys.
The next few months are a whole new type of hell. At first Conrad doesn't notice the way his hand lingers against the curve of her spine, brushes the swell of hip or thigh or the angle he stands at, so her breasts press against the sharp lines of his uniform. When he does notice, he can't stop. His firmest resolve lasts from the moment he leaves the shower until his mother's door opens to reveal yet another skimpy dress or top. His dreams come into focus, his mother's smile, her hair, her skin pale under his hands...
Even his room starts to smell of her perfume and Conrad wonders if he's going mad.
It's still redeemable at this point. Conrad just has to get away for a bit. Make a trip to town, find a busty blonde and fuck her hard and brutal in an alley or barn. It's sick and twisted but he's the only one involved so no-one needs to know.
Then there's the party, Cheri's annual LoveLove Ball. Conrad is there, her faithful shadow as always. This year, the Ball falls on the anniversary of her marriage to his father and Conrad doesn't need Gwendal's warning to know that their mother will need careful handling.
Her gown is sublime, black to befit her rank and cut to tease and tantalize. Conrad is stiff in formal uniform, sipping the occasional glass of water as Cheri sashays through the crowd, a permenantly full glass of champagne in her hand. She outlasts most of the rest of the castle, staying -however unsteadily- on her feet long after the nobles have called it a night.
Conrad squires her away long after midnight, leaving the detritus of the party to the army of servants. Cheri is too drunk to be trusted on her own feet, staggering into him with every other step. Conrad tries not to notice the feel of her against him as he navigates the stairs.
Cheri's room is dimly lit and her bed is at once huge and far away. Conrad steers her towards it, control already dangerously frayed with exhaustion and temptation. Cheri is barely conscious, draped across him and one shoe off. Conrad is praying to the human gods (he hasn't asked the Shinou for anything since long before the war) for strength when her head drops forward, warm breath ghosting through the open collar of his suit.
The next thing he knows, Cheri is spread out beneath him. Her eyes are closed and her gown is bunched around her waist, baring breasts and legs. Her nipples are rosy, swollen and slick with Conrad's spit. A bruise in the shape of his teeth is darkening against her collarbone. She's hot and slick and tight around his fingers, body rocking with each push. Conrad has his pants open, free hand cupping himself.
It's better than a dream, better than any anonymous fuck in the town. Balls-deep, Cheri fits around him, hot and sleek. Conrad doesn't even last a full five minutes before he's shuddering and jerking against her slack form.
Seconds -minutes?- pass before he can catch his breath and he pulls out slowly, watching the way Cheri's body parts around his half-hard cock and the seep of semen and slick. He stands over his mother, half-naked, and shame twists around desire, rising in a strangling cloud to choke him.
Nothing will ever be right again.
Fandom: KKM
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Conrad/Cheri
Warnings: Smut, incest, non-con
Word count: 1214
Notes: The result of a conversation with Geika and Master. This turned out to be a lot more twisted than I meant it and I feel vaguely unclean now.
Summary: Anissina's pheromone perfume is more potent than anyone realized. Set post-Conrad's return from earth but pre-series.
Conrad comes back from Earth wrong.
He doesn't know that of course, not at first. Yozak meets him at the Shrine and it's just like it used to be. Yozak's still tall but he's filled out, solid muscle instead of the skinny promise he had during the war. Conrad's smile is real and Yozak pounds him on the back, grinning ear-to-ear.
"It's good to have you back, Captain!"
"Good to be back." Conrad says and he means it.
"You may change your mind about that." Yozak tells him on the ride back to the castle, expression dark. "Stoffel's still living in the Castle and your mother...Cheri-heika isn't well, Captain."
"Mother? What's wrong with her?" Conrad tenses up and his gelding dances sideways.
"She's ...well, she's been a little strange since von Beifeld divorced her." Yozak tries to explain.
Conrad is already tasting bile in the back of his throat as his stomach twists into the all-too-familiar knot of emotion. His mother...his memories of her are of dull colours and frumpy dresses and always, always Stoffel, one step behind her. He could quite cheerfully gut the man, leave him bleeding on the grass to wait for the death he was so eager to send others to face. Yozak tries to explain but he's 'just' a half-breed and Stoffel is still allergic to the idea of human blood.
Conrad arrives at Blood Pledge, still covered in the dust of another world. His brother and Gunter are waiting for him. Gwendal actually unbends enough to smile tersely and Conrad's own smile comes easier for it. Gwendal must be working too hard again, Conrad can feel the ribs under Gwendal's thick coat. Gunter is still playing the fop, hands clasped and starry-eyed. They haven't changed and Conrad is grateful for it.
Wolfram is elsewhere, Gwendal promises Conrad will see him when he gets back. Gwendal is called away almost at once, confirming Conrad's suspicions. Conrad asks after Gisela and Adelbert. Gunter keeps up a patter of light conversation until they arrive at the Maou's private chambers. He leaves Conrad there with a final "Good luck!" and Conrad is on his own.
He isn't sure what to expect but it's Mother and for all her faults, she loved him fiercely despite what anyone thought or said to her. Conrad owes her for that. He takes a deep breath and raps sharply on the door.
"Come iiiin!" His mother's voice rings out.
Conrad opens the door. A floral musk fills his nose and his first impression is Pink. Pink drapes, pink rug and a red-pink bedspread. His second impression is too unfocused to be described as thought. All he can think is that he certainly doesn't remember his mother looking like this!
She turns her head, long blonde curls dragged across the bare V of her cleavage. That's all he gets a chance to register before she's flinging her arms around his neck and laughing delightedly. Even her laughter isn't what he remembers it to be, deeper and richer. He hugs back, reflexively rather than intentionally. His arms are lower than he meant and soft flesh presses against the side of his hands.
It isn't an appropriate hug but, Conrad can't quite remember why it isn't appropriate to touch like that.
He spends the rest of the day in a daze, vaguely aware of his mother talking about Anissina's new perfume invention, her latest flower types and the latest gossip. He stumbles off to his musty room after dinner and stares at the ceiling for hours before he finally slips into uneasy sleep. His dreams are hazy, unsettling and Conrad wakes up, sheets stuck to his legs and hips, with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and still half-hard.
It's probably inevitable after that. Cheri is so delighted to have him back that Conrad can't protest when she adds him to her entourage. Gwendal purses his lips and allows that Conrad dancing attendance on their mother will keep Stoffel in line. Insofar as is possible. Conrad grits his teeth and obeys.
The next few months are a whole new type of hell. At first Conrad doesn't notice the way his hand lingers against the curve of her spine, brushes the swell of hip or thigh or the angle he stands at, so her breasts press against the sharp lines of his uniform. When he does notice, he can't stop. His firmest resolve lasts from the moment he leaves the shower until his mother's door opens to reveal yet another skimpy dress or top. His dreams come into focus, his mother's smile, her hair, her skin pale under his hands...
Even his room starts to smell of her perfume and Conrad wonders if he's going mad.
It's still redeemable at this point. Conrad just has to get away for a bit. Make a trip to town, find a busty blonde and fuck her hard and brutal in an alley or barn. It's sick and twisted but he's the only one involved so no-one needs to know.
Then there's the party, Cheri's annual LoveLove Ball. Conrad is there, her faithful shadow as always. This year, the Ball falls on the anniversary of her marriage to his father and Conrad doesn't need Gwendal's warning to know that their mother will need careful handling.
Her gown is sublime, black to befit her rank and cut to tease and tantalize. Conrad is stiff in formal uniform, sipping the occasional glass of water as Cheri sashays through the crowd, a permenantly full glass of champagne in her hand. She outlasts most of the rest of the castle, staying -however unsteadily- on her feet long after the nobles have called it a night.
Conrad squires her away long after midnight, leaving the detritus of the party to the army of servants. Cheri is too drunk to be trusted on her own feet, staggering into him with every other step. Conrad tries not to notice the feel of her against him as he navigates the stairs.
Cheri's room is dimly lit and her bed is at once huge and far away. Conrad steers her towards it, control already dangerously frayed with exhaustion and temptation. Cheri is barely conscious, draped across him and one shoe off. Conrad is praying to the human gods (he hasn't asked the Shinou for anything since long before the war) for strength when her head drops forward, warm breath ghosting through the open collar of his suit.
The next thing he knows, Cheri is spread out beneath him. Her eyes are closed and her gown is bunched around her waist, baring breasts and legs. Her nipples are rosy, swollen and slick with Conrad's spit. A bruise in the shape of his teeth is darkening against her collarbone. She's hot and slick and tight around his fingers, body rocking with each push. Conrad has his pants open, free hand cupping himself.
It's better than a dream, better than any anonymous fuck in the town. Balls-deep, Cheri fits around him, hot and sleek. Conrad doesn't even last a full five minutes before he's shuddering and jerking against her slack form.
Seconds -minutes?- pass before he can catch his breath and he pulls out slowly, watching the way Cheri's body parts around his half-hard cock and the seep of semen and slick. He stands over his mother, half-naked, and shame twists around desire, rising in a strangling cloud to choke him.
Nothing will ever be right again.