Star Ocean: Till The End Of Time Fan Fiction ❯ Yaoi Ocean 3 ❯ Chapter Six: Cure Condition ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Six

CureCondition

Outside, it was snowing, and it was dark besides. Cliff remembered very well where he had crashed, and could have made it there quickly, but Albel flat-out refused to let Cliff carry him (which would have been much easier and faster) and was determined to walk there. He walked only slowly, and seemed terribly unbalanced. Cliff walked beside him, but only grabbed him when Albel began to fall. He knew the other man was extremely dizzy and wasn't seeing things straight. He never said anything when he helped him stay upright—which meant that even he knew that he couldn't do it by himself. The weather was doing nothing for him.

The snow was disorienting, and the ground looked like it was tilted at an awkward angle because of the snow blowing in. The whole thing made his head spin, and he was considering just walking blindly. Cliff was loud enough; he might be able to follow the sounds of him walking through the snow. Everything seemed so loud…

About the fourth time Albel almost fell, though, Cliff sighed deeply and picked him up anyway. Albel complained in a violent manner. “Put me down now, you worthless maggot!” he hissed, attempting to gut the Klausian with his claws. Cliff ignored him and pulled him a little closer, pinning his left arm against his chest to keep him from trying to gut him with it. Not to say he didn't still try, but he couldn't get any leverage to move his arm—hence the joy of pinning the elbow. The gauntlet was not enjoyable rubbing against Cliff's stomach, but he decided that he could deal with it for a while. The experience would be more pleasant if Albel didn't think he needed to thrash about. Albel hauled back his other fist. The struggling was making him sick to his stomach, but to hell that he was going to let Cliff carry him.

Cliff caught the blow before it landed with his free hand. “This is faster. Before we get there, I'll put you down so the guards don't see you.” Albel continued resisting heedlessly against Cliff's superior strength, trying to continue to fight him to put him down. He gritted his teeth and then tried to pull his arm away. Cliff, however, didn't trust him not to try to claw his eyes out, so he kept a good grip on the slender wrist. “Just agree and we'll get there sooner.” Albel stared at him for what must have been a solid and rather uncomfortable minute.

It was just for a few minutes. Besides… everything really was spinning awkwardly, and it was making him sick to his stomach—not to mention dizzy. Keep up the walking, and he'd vomit again. That was a less than appealing thought; his throat was so sore. But… it would still mean that someone else was carrying him. “One word about this, worm, and I'll gut you.”

Cliff resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Whatever. Tell me if ya have t' toss your cookies again.”

“What?”

“Er… Puke.”

“…”

All the spinning was making him sick again, so he closed his eyes. The wind was bitterly cold—colder than it normally felt. That was because he was ill though. It wasn't really any colder than it usually was at this time of year. His stomach suddenly lurched as Cliff started walking. He gagged. Cliff froze. Albel swallowed hard and shook his head. Cliff began the short trek through the snow again. The swordsman sighed resignedly. Cliff tried his best not to jostle him as he carried him. The younger man's head lowered against the cold. The Klausian felt warm against him. He leaned against his shoulder. The blood pounded in his ears. Adversely, Cliff's heartbeat was soft and steady. He focused on that sound to block out the other noises—the other noises gave him head pains. His heartbeat, however, was calming. Cliff felt Albel relax—not a good sign. Cliff was a bit surprised that he was being so compliant though, which meant that he must be awfully sick. Well, it wouldn't be long now.

Around the corner from the fallen craft, he set Albel down gently in the snow. He teetered for one brief moment, then righted himself. Crimson eyes opened. He straightened a little and strutted forward as if he weren't sick. Albel the Wicked yelled at the guards to let him pass. Apparently, they had known about his sentence, so were hesitant… for a moment, anyway. Albel snarled something at them and they paled visibly and stepped aside. His reputation acted like a protective cloak in this instance. Albel stared at the ship, as if he expected it to open for him. Cliff walked in front of him and opened it. The two walked inside.

The second the door closed, Albel slithered to the floor. It had taken all he had to pretend he wasn't sick, to show no sign of weakness long enough to intimidate the guards in to letting them pass, primarily letting his reputation do the work for him. Cliff glanced down at him and stepped around him. Albel didn't seem to notice, let alone care. His breathing came in ragged gasps, his head spun, his skull felt like it might split in two, and what he really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die—or vomit, which ever came first. Oh, why hadn't they just killed him at Bequerel?

“Just a while longer,” Cliff promised him. He fiddled with the machinery a bit. It was still undamaged—it would be though; the medical facilities were placed in such a manner as that they were useful even after a crash—which is when they would be most useful. “Got it. Hey, can you get up over there?”

Albel tried. He really did, but the strain of walking and the weather had taken its toll and when he stood, he teetered awkwardly and then fell. Cliff caught him before he hit the floor again. He hauled him upright. Albel stared straight ahead at the older man's chest as if he didn't see it. The way he was feeling, Cliff imagined that he might not.

It was true; everything just looked like a big blur to Albel. He distinguished Cliff only as being the large, dark blur that moved. Truthfully, watching him move made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He couldn't remember ever being this sick before.

Cliff helped him to the medical equipment. About five minutes later, the illness was gone. Albel was standing straighter and looked much healthier. “How ya feelin'?” he asked him.

Albel sat down in one of the chairs. “Better.” He leaned his head against the back of the chair. His eyes fluttered for a moment. He forced them open.

“You look tired. When's the last time ya slept?”

He blinked slowly and shook his head without saying anything. He didn't know. He couldn't tell the time in the dungeon. A long time though. He didn't answer. Cliff looked around. While he was here, was there anything worth taking? No, not really. His eyes roved over to Albel. He really did have nice legs—and well-shaped abs. He blinked and looked away, but not before Albel's eyes caught his.

He found himself growing attracted to Albel—and very quickly at that. Ah, what the hell? He felt Albel's eyes boring in to the back of his skull.

“Are you finished yet?” he asked. His voice held a hint of a sneer—like it usually did. He wondered if he meant it to be that way or it came out that way naturally.

Cliff powered down the medical device. “Yeah—guess so.” He stretched. “Let's get goin'. We've got a long day tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Albel grunted. Cliff looked back at him. Albel hadn't moved. Was there still something wrong? Had the machine somehow missed some symptom? Skipped over some part of the illness? He walked over to him and leaned down. Albel continued staring straight ahead. His eyes were clear, he wasn't sickly-looking, and he didn't have a temperature of any kind. Then…?

“Hey, what's wrong?”

He shook his head a little and pressed his lips together. He seemed to be having some epic internal struggle. Finally, he let out a raspy noise of defeat. “Thank you,” he said. His voice sounded really mean and hateful and came out as a wicked snarl—it was so bad that Cliff almost laughed aloud, but he didn't when he saw how serious Albel was being.

“You're welcome,” Cliff said. “Now let's get outta here.”

He nodded and stood up. There was no wobbling and no dizziness. “I'll kill you if you ever say anything about all this.” The threat actually had some implication behind it this time.

The Klausian sighed noisily and made a dismissive gesture that annoyed the other. “Yeah, you said that already.”

“I'm reminding you. Don't even tell your lover.”

Cliff frowned deeply. “What are you talking about?”

“Fayt. Don't even tell him.”

He was taken back. He blinked in surprise. “But… What… How…?”
Albel scoffed. “The worm cowers behind you, and stays close to you—he also stares at you. You do the same,” he added as an afterthought. “You're obviously lovers.” His voice came out in a sneer again—this time a little meaner and more hateful than usual—which was saying something.

Cliff stared at him, then straightened. “And that's something you should keep to yourself,” he said, his voice icy. Albel nodded; he had no problems with that. He considered Albel's tone of voice. Had that been… jealousy? “Albel…”

His hand came out of seemingly nowhere. The Elicoorian's knuckles hit his face so hard that they cracked. Albel spun on his heel, away from him. “Stop staring at me,” he hissed testily. If you're not going to do anything, don't stare at me, he thought.

Cliff's face stung a little. Fortunately, he was Klausian—and though Albel threw a pretty good punch for a man his size—it didn't have too much of an affect. “You're jealous,” Cliff realized fully. The second punch landed on his stomach. But he noticed something; Albel was only using his right hand. He was intentionally not causing a whole lot of harm. He could have if he only swung with his left… but he didn't.

“Don't accuse me of being jealous of your relationship with that maggot!” he growled. He glared at Cliff, but what he was aware of was their close proximity… and Cliff had a gorgeous body. The glare, needless to say, was rendered ineffective.

Cliff raised an eyebrow. “Then stop being jealous.” This time, he caught the punch. The metal arm came up. He grabbed the gauntlet and held his arm over his head. Albel struggled for a moment. Cliff didn't even have to try; the Black Brigade's former captain may be skilled with a sword, but he didn't stand a chance against a Klausian in hand-to-hand combat—let alone Cliff. He lifted Albel off of his feet. Ruby eyes widened. Cliff slammed his back against the wall, pinning his wrists above him. Albel glared at him. He may have been about to say something—most likely a threat of some sort. Cliff covered his mouth with his.

Albel wasn't as submissive as Fayt had been. Not nearly. His lips were unyielding, even under pressure and prodding from Cliff's tongue and experienced lips. He struggled against his hold on him, and even tried to kick him. He started thrashing, railing against his captor. Annoyed, Cliff picked him up again and threw him. Albel hit the floor, landing on his ass. Cliff jumped on top of him before he could get up, pinning his wrists again, wrestling him to the floor. “Just admit it,” he said. “You're jealous.”

He stared at him through heated hate-filled eyes. Then the hate melted to be replaced with... a different kind of heat. “I want you to fuck me,” he said—blunt, straight, and to the point.

Cliff almost laughed, because he thought it had been a joke. Albel had hardly been exactly willing when he had kissed him. But he didn't seem the type to joke either, so it gave him pause. “What?”

“Are you deaf as well as stupid?” he demanded. “I just offered myself to you.”

Cliff let go of his wrists. Albel didn't move. “Then why did you fight?” He shrugged one shoulder dismissively. Ah, so it was sort of a dominance thing. “Well, why do you want me then? I thought you hated me?”

He frowned, as if he were pointing out that the sky was, in fact, blue to someone who didn't understand that it was. “You defeated me. You're stronger than I am, so I respect you for your strength.”

That made very little sense to Cliff's mind. He would have thought that he hated them for that defeat. “Don't you hate me?”

“I hate you for leaving me living,” he admitted. “But not for my defeat.” I hate myself for that, he thought. It still didn't make too much sense to Cliff. Hell, it didn't really need to. One of Albel's legs rubbed against Cliff's, bringing him back to the subject matter. Cliff thought briefly of Fayt. Well, it's not like they were married. Besides… Albel really was rather attractive. He wondered what kind of a lover he was like.

Cliff sat up, and got off of Albel. “Then take off your clothes.” He sat up and peeled off his shirt. He dropped it several feet away from him. He untied the red sash and dropped it beside his shirt. Without the sash, the skirt fell a little lower—just low enough to taunt Cliff with dark promises. Albel kicked off his boots. He leaned forward, waiting, one leg slipping out from under the confines of the fabric suggestively. Cliff peeled off his clothes—layer by layer. Albel couldn't have made it more blatant that he was watching. Popcorn and a soda, Cliff thought.That's the only things that could make it more obvious.He watched him with all of the intensity of a college student finishing their final test.

Albel made a deep guttural growl, when Cliff moved toward him. The sound was of approval. He finally pushed the skirt aside. Cliff smiled his own approval. He stroked the inside of the younger man's thigh, studying his pubic hair briefly. It was interesting—Cliff had assumed that Albel must dye his hair. Apparently, two-toned hair wasn't so odd here. The carpet matches the drapes, Cliff thought.

Cliff's hand glided upwards, over his chest, giving no more than a teasing stroke to his groin. The muscles were taught and lean. He pinched one of the pink nipples and rubbed it with his thumb, exploring the other's body. It was strange; he looked so human.

“I'm growing impatient. Fuck me now,” he growled the order.

Cliff cocked his head a little. Doesn't like foreplay, huh? Maybe just not anything soft. That would make sense. He was rough by nature, so perhaps… He leaned down and bit his nipple. Albel gasped, back arching. Ah, so he did like it like that. He pulled his head up, keeping his teeth locked on Albel's nipple, pulling the Elicoorian up with him. He let go, his hand trailing to the back of his head. He gathered the two rat tails in one hand and yarded them backwards. Albel cried out. Cliff stood up, pulling him with him. He looked at him. Albel was panting heavily. So that's how it was.

“Masochist,” Cliff breathed. And a sadist, too. My, my. “You like this?” A dim nod. Well, that was interesting. He threw him against a wall. He knew Albel could take quite a bit of punishment—something he had learned from their battle. He wondered how much, though, before it started to hurt instead of feel good. Albel grunted with the impact. His breathing was still heavy. Albel looked at Cliff and leaped toward him, nearly knocking him over, pressing his lips against his as he desperately sought entry. It was denied. Cliff pushed his tongue against Albel's lips. They parted. Cliff had had just about enough of this. He lifted Albel and pushed him toward a chair. He turned him around, bending him over the chair. Albel glanced back at him hungrily. Cliff grabbed Albel's waist with one hand and positioned himself with the other. He looked again at Albel's quivering and excited body. He really did look very human.

He suddenly froze. He stepped away. Human… And what had happened with Earthlings and Klausians once? Klausians had killed them by accident in bed. He knew nothing about Elicoorian anatomy, or what they could take. Just looking like one species didn't make them that. What if he did something that, say, Fayt could take, but it hurt him? Or even killed him? He knew that Albel could take hits and punches, but as far as sex went…

“What?” Albel wondered. He turned around. “Cliff?” He looked confused—maybe even a little worried. Why wouldn't he be? Cliff had done something that would suggest that he had lost interest in him. He would have reacted the same way.

Cliff shook his head. “I can't.”

Albel's hands balled in to fists. “Why not?” he demanded.

He looked at him again. He just didn't know… “I'm afraid to hurt you,” he admitted.

The Elicoorian glared at him. “You…” In a moment, he was on his feet. He swung a punch at him—this time with the gauntlet. Cliff felt blood dribble down his cheek. He flinched. “You're… afraid to hurt me?”

“Albel, listen,” Cliff said. He raked his fingers through his hair. How could he explain it? “I'm a Klausian—and we're not built like you. A long time ago, Earthlings… like Fayt and Maria… tried to have sex with Klausians—and ended up getting killed because we didn't know enough about each other's anatomy. You look a lot like an Earthling, but you're not. Simply put, I don't want to be responsible for hurting you.” Klausians, after all, looked a lot like Earthlings—and the two were very different.

Albel gave him such a look of disgust that it actually made him feel disgusting. “You worthless worm,” he hissed.

“It's not like that,” Cliff tried again. “I just don't want to get carried away and tear you in half…” And he looked so delicate besides.

Albel turned his back to him. “I'm stronger than Fayt—“ He spat the name. “—but you will have sex with him before me?” He turned his head back and glared venom at him. He had never thought that anyone would reject him—and someone had. Why? Because he was afraid to hurt him? What an idiotic notion.

Cliff reached toward him. Albel stepped away from him bitterly. “I didn't say I wouldn't do my best to pleasure you—only that I was afraid to have sex with you.” He smiled in a way that spoke volumes of the things he had in mind. Albel turned back around. “Perhaps… after I've learned more about your anatomy, we'll have sex.”

This seemed to be to the other's liking. “So learn about me,” he breathed. Cliff walked toward him, catching hold of him. Albel pushed himself against Cliff's chest. He licked off the blood on his cheek. “I'll tell you about me.” His voice sent shivers up Cliff's spine. “I like it rough.”

Cliff's hands roved over his body, tracing every dip and curve, outlining his ribs, memorizing the way he breathed. He trailed his fingertips over his abdomen, studying the hard muscle there. He lifted Albel off of his feet and threw him again on to the floor. He landed on his back. He stayed down, looking up anxiously at Cliff. Cliff leaned over him. He began at his feet, touching each toe, feeling all the bones in his feet. He gripped his ankles and caressed his calves. Albel moaned softly. He touched his knees and worked his way slowly up his thighs. He spent a substantial amount of time exploring his groin. Albel grabbed one of Cliff's hands and sucked on his fingers in a desperate, hungry manner. Saliva dripped off of them. Albel had a skilled tongue. The Elicoorian pulled his hand down between his legs, guiding them to the place he wanted them.

Cliff shoved his finger inside. He made quick, sharp movements, loosening him. He pushed in another finger. Albel groaned. He made a scissor motion with his fingers, then twisted his hand, pushing inside him, trying to feel as much of him as he could. His other hand caressed his hips. Albel pushed against him. He was a demanding lover. Cliff couldn't say he didn't like it. He touched his arm, his shoulder, feeling his neck. He felt just like an Earthling—gods, they were similar. But he still wondered how similar. He shoved in another finger. The Elicoorian's back arched, twisting, pulling him deeper inside him. His fingers wouldn't go any farther. Albel looked nothing short of disappointed. He glanced longingly at Cliff. Cliff shook his head. He still wasn't confident.

“Then let me be on top,” he said. He moaned loudly and gave a sharp cry. That might work. He would just have to remind himself to let Albel do it. He grabbed him with his free arm, continuing to push inside of him, twisting his wrist, wiggling his fingers. He gasped.

Cliff laid down on his back, moving Albel on top of him. He pulled his fingers away. Albel straddled him eagerly. He lowered himself on to Cliff. He froze with all of Cliff's length in him. He felt a little like he was being impaled. He shivered. He'd never felt so… Ah, was there a word for it? If there was, it evaded him. Hell, words weren't important right now anyway.

Cliff's hands gently caressed him as he moved on top of him. The slower Albel went, the softer was Cliff's touch. The harder, the less gentle. It influenced Albel to move quickly; he liked it rough. Cliff pinched his nipples and yanked them down, toward him. Albel leaned down and kissed him. Cliff bit his lip. He moaned softly. Blood dripped down his chin from the bite. Cliff moved to his neck and bit in to it. He groaned. There would be marks there.

He grabbed his long hair and jerked him back, pulling him back as far as he could, forcing Albel to arch his back almost uncomfortably. He let go. Albel pushed against him. Sweat beaded over his smooth skin. His thighs ached from the position, but it felt too good to move. Cliff slapped him—not hard enough to do much damage—but hard enough to leave his cheek red. Albel shuddered. Cliff wondered if he had shuddered when whoever had put the bruise on his cheek had hit him too. He hoped that he hadn't.

Albel was a much better lay than Fayt, Cliff decided hazily. Besides that, he just looked… so damn sexy writhing on top of him, moving on top of him. His facial expressions were delicious too. His hair was sticking to his face and he didn't seem to notice. Fayt had been a good lover naturally, but nothing compared to honed skill and experience.

Cliff was dying to bend Albel back over the chair. It was an effort to restrain himself. Not yet… I'll learn a little more first.

But what had he learned? He had learned that Albel derived the most pleasure while he was simultaneously in pain. As far as physically, there weren't really any differences from an Earthling. So… perhaps…

He gripped Albel's waist as he sat up. He continued fucking him all the way to the chair. He set the smaller man down and pushed him—bending him over the chair. Albel shivered with obvious excitement. Finally…

Cliff pushed himself in to him. Yes…!

He gripped Albel's hair again, forcing him to arch his back like a cat while he pounded in to him. Another benefit to having sex here was that it didn't matter about how much noise they made. It was nice not having to choke back his voice and worry about any sounds that might be heard.

He ground his hips against the other man. Albel gave a sharp cry. Experimentally, Cliff drew his hand back and hit him in the side of his ass. Albel's muscles tightened automatically, clenching around him. Cliff made a sound like a sigh of pleasure and decided to do that periodically.

He leaned a little closer, trailing his tongue along his spine, tasting sweat. He nibbled on the side of his neck. Albel turned his head and caught his lips greedily.

Cliff moved one of his hands to Albel's groin, gliding his hand along the length of him, spreading his pre-cum over him. He matched the rhythm of his pace with his hand. Albel pushed back against him, demanding more. Cliff was only too happy to give it. Still, he had to hold back—just a little.

Albel did something with his hips that made him gasp. It felt really good. A soft smile of satisfaction flickered across his face and he did it again. Cliff groaned. He kissed Albel's neck again. “I'm going to come,” he whispered. “In you?”

Albel moaned. “Mmmm,” he purred agreeably. He moved his hips again, pushing back. He arched his back, halfway rising. His fingertips trailed along Cliff's hard-muscled chest. He teased his taught nipples and gently raked his skin with his fingernails. Cliff thrust in to him one last time, burying himself inside him completely. Albel gasped, panting at the feel of the other's release. Cliff gave a few more thrusts, his hand wrapped around Albel's erection. He pulled out and lifted Albel on to the seat, laying him on his back. It was a little too small, but it would work. He pulled his legs apart, gently stroking him the entire time. He watched the sticky semen run out of him. He leaned in and ran his tongue over it, lapping at it. Albel groaned. Cliff tasted blood mixed in with it. His stomach knotted. He had hurt him?

Cliff discerned, dimly, Albel's clawed hand sink in to the seat. Well, that seat was ruined. He didn't think that the other even noticed it.

Just as the flow of semen was stopping, Albel released, silently, all of his muscles tensing briefly, then he relaxed and sighed, sagging. Cliff's hand dripped semen, and it was all over Albel's belly, unheeded. Cliff leaned over his uke. Albel's eyes slid open the way a door slides open when a person is hesitant. He kissed him again. Albel could taste semen and didn't care. Cliff started to pull away, kissed him one more time and stood up. His muscles ached. He stretched and went to find the towels. To his good fortune, there were some. He cleaned up his hand and came back with a new one. He ran it over Albel's stomach, cleaning him off. Albel didn't move; he was still trying to catch his breath.

Cliff tossed the towel away and found his clothes. He started dressing. They needed to get back to the inn and get some sleep. How much time had gone by? He really had no idea—but the younger man needed some sleep. As if to punctuate that thought, Albel slid to the floor, eyes closed. Curious, Cliff, half-naked, walked over to him. He squatted down, staring at him. He was dead asleep. He sighed and continued dressing. After he was finished, he glanced back at Albel. He was still asleep. He must have been exhausted.

He walked back over to him and nudged him. “Wake up,” he called. No answer. He really was dead asleep. He kicked him lightly in the side. Albel shot upright and reached for a sword that wasn't there. The look on his face when he discovered the sword was absent was akin to someone thinking there was one more step to a flight of stairs when there wasn't; a shocked look of surprise. He glanced at Cliff and stood up wearily. He found his clothes. Cliff's eyes roved over his attractive body. His ass was red where he had slapped him. He remembered the blood and his stomach twisted in knots again.

“Sorry,” Cliff muttered. Albel paused to look at him, one arm through his shirt. “I hurt you; you were bleeding.”

Albel yanked his shirt on. “It's fine,” he said. He looked at him. His face was still flushed, but it was very different from when he had been sick. He looked… awfully cute, actually. He really did have terrible posture though. He'd have back and neck problems like that… “It felt good.”

“If you say so,” he said. He waited for him to finish dressing. It was actually rather interesting to watch. He would have thought that he would have problems with his metal arm, but he had become rather dexterous with it. Not to say that he wouldn't do better with a real hand, but it was still impressive that he could tie a knot with it. His shirt was the most interesting part. Because of the metal gauntlet, he couldn't fit the arm through the sleeve hole, so the shirt actually opened at the side and attached itself with hidden hooks. How he got that on was still difficult to believe. Wouldn't it be easier to just take off the gauntlet? Why was keeping it on a big deal?

Cliff almost asked him, but something about it kept him from doing so.

When Albel was fully dressed, they left the small ship and went back to the inn to sleep.