Chapter Text
Part I: Three Visits (3)
A messenger wakes Suzaku just before dawn. Genbu’s elk has begun fawning, early before the start of the season, and there are complications. The nearest physician has been sent for but will likely be delayed - it is the peak of the birthing season for sheep, and not yet the right time for young deer to be born.
Suzaku dresses quietly, then slips back to kneel by the futon and check on the companion he has left there, wrapped warmly in the sheets. Lelouch wears a peaceful expression, still asleep in a new and foreign place despite the interruption - unlike Suzaku, who by now is accustomed to receiving the occasional discreet report by the doors, and to waking at similar hours while training under Tohdoh.
A gentle hand on Lelouch’s shoulder is enough now to make him stir, however, and Suzaku feels himself smile a little as Lelouch blinks awake, eyes soft and unfocused in the low light of the lamps.
“Hey,” Suzaku greets softly. Nothing will be taking effect on their bodies for another few hours still, but it is best to let Lelouch know. “My father’s elk is having trouble birthing. I’m going to have a look.”
Lelouch shifts up onto an elbow. “...Alright.” Suzaku watches as his mind seems to flicker back into full awareness. “Is that common?”
Suzaku hesitates. “Rare, if I am honest.”
“... You will not find me of much help here,” Lelouch says, soft too in the quiet hour, and then pauses. “Although, if they are anything like horses...”
“Both feet have to come out together, I know.”
Lelouch nods. “If a missing foot won’t be found or won’t come forth, I’ve read that it will help to first push the other back in. If need be, tie them.”
The words make sense. Suzaku smiles in thanks and rises, the urgency returning. “I’ll remember that.”
Outside, the air is quiet as well, tranquil, morning dew beginning to form on the grass and the occasional guards lowering their heads in silent greeting as Suzaku passes their posts.
Before, it was his mother who was the one most looked to for help with the bakufu elk. Tomoe was an alpha just like Genbu was, making it a rare union for clan leadership, and not one that had been formed without any opposition. Most criticism had ceased by the time Suzaku was born, but it is still something that is rarely made known to outsiders - that he is an only child not just because of Tomoe's unfortunate early demise, but likely also because he was born of two alpha parents. The moon, begotten of two moons.
He knows his parents had loved each other dearly, though they were like fire and water in their differences - Tomoe bright, bold, and outspoken, stubborn in her own way. But among the people and the court she was known best, perhaps, for her great love for the elk. Tomoe had a way with them that rivaled the skill of a trained physician, and as a child Suzaku would sit with her in the fields, watch as she tended to fretful ones in the stalls, listen as she sang to them and told him stories - of the wild elk in the mountains where she’d lived before she'd met his father, and of the few elk in their stables which had been tamed, some by her own hand.
The memories are fainter now, but Suzaku keeps to all that he has learned.
Burai has aged over the years, lived almost as many winters as he has. She is dam to Asa and to a few more of their finest elk, and likely the oldest among their doe to fawn this season - so the earliness of this fawn’s arrival was perhaps to be expected. It will be her last.
“Ue-sama.” He is greeted as soon as he arrives at the stables. Their chief caretaker Meguro is a small-sized but sturdy woman who looks like she could knock a grown man off his feet with ease, her features currently anxious and pulled tight.
“How long?” Suzaku asks by way of confirmation as he retrieves tasuki for his sleeves from the wall and they make their way down to the larger stalls used for birthing.
“Just under an hour while she’s been like this. We sent for help as soon as we thought something was wrong.”
Suzaku nods. Fawning complications are few among their elk. A labor that is taking longer than usual is one of the first signs something is amiss, and if there has been no progress since they first sent word then the tense atmosphere in the activity of the few stablehands hurrying along the walkways as they approach is understandable, especially considering how the elk in question was the former shogun’s personal mount and favorite.
Meguro halts him as they reach the stall and another stablehand emerges from it to receive them. The stablehand exchanges a wordless glance with her and the chief speaks, hesitation in her voice.
“I ask that you forgive my forthrightness, ue-sama , but if things do not improve in there, it is your humble servant’s suggestion... That is, it is misfortune for the lord shogun to witness a stillbirth - especially so soon before...”
“...I know,” Suzaku says softly, smiles to offer what reassurance he can.
Births among the red elk have long been believed to be either blessing or curse on the fertility of their owners and riders, even more so if they were to be present during the process. Burai may have been his father’s, but her fawns will now be seen as a foretelling of the future of the shogunate line under Genbu’s heir and blood. It is a caution that is still held to by the caretakers and many others in the bakufu. He has not forgotten.
They are looking at him apprehensively, further protests falling silent. Suzaku has understood the full weight of the situation from the moment the news was brought to him in his chambers: the discouragement and anxiety that will be brought upon the household, the ill that it will speak of the continuation of his line if he cannot get the fawn out in time. But he understands, too, the burden of being his mother’s child, of being the one to have ridden on and grown up with the doe now laboring in the stall just beyond. And the stablehands know it, too - that it is now his voice and hands that Burai will have the most affinity with, and so Suzaku already has the tasuki in his teeth, is already pulling his sleeves back under the sash and yanking tight the knots.
“Let me do this.”
The chief nods and turns to the other man. “Clear away and give the shogun space.”
Too many people would further stress a laboring doe. When Suzaku steps in there is only one other stablehand kneeling by the elk in the hay, and he moves to let Suzaku take his place. They shift quietly so as not to startle her, and Suzaku is careful to cross into her line of sight before crouching closer.
Burai, lying on her side and breathing harder than usual, swivels ears and eyes toward him. Suzaku murmurs softly to her, passes hands over her neck and side until she responds to his touch, head shifting in the hay and eyes flickering briefly closed.
He feels the renewed ripple of her muscles as she strains. Before his arrival, when the messenger had been at his door, the fear had been that nothing would come. Breech is the worst possible case - and perhaps more legitimate a worry, so early in the season as they are.
It is too soon for his heart to leap, but Suzaku feels it quicken nonetheless when he looks and finds the faint signs of something emerging under the lamplight.
He remembers his mother’s voice, praising and coaxing under sunlight and in the fields, where newborn fawns were stumbling to their feet not long after. He lets the relief into his own voice even as he urges the elk gently on.
“That’s it, good girl, come on.”
If Burai has been at this for an hour then she will be at her limit soon. Suzaku will have to bring the situation under control before the elk’s fatigue settles in and takes over. He runs a hand along her neck, rubs the other in firm, wide strokes up and down her distended belly.
Burai lifts her head to look at him, then lets it fall back to the hay with a low grunt, eyes almost unseeing.
Suzaku breathes deep, thinks of the times he would push his smaller hands into her fur, laughing, of all the times he would wrap sweating palms around her reins as she waited patiently for him to learn the proper posture, balance and discipline required of Ashigaru’s best riders - and whispers, “Please.”
A rough breath like a snort, and then movement, the tendons in her neck showing as she strains again, more powerfully this time.
It is, indeed, just a single foot, gleaming and barely a quarter of the way out.
Instinct is pushing at Suzaku not to wait and see if the other will follow soon after. He motions for wet towels, wipes his hands down to his elbows, moves down more toward Burai’s rear while keeping a steadying hand on her rump.
“Bring me another tasuki,” he says to the two onlooking stablehands, before grasping the protruding leg just above the hoof. The long strip of cloth is given to him, and Suzaku swallows and eases the foot slowly back in the way it came.
Burai is quiet as he murmurs soothing encouragement, letting him work, and Suzaku offers up silent thanks to the gods for her trust. The first foot slips back in, his hand inserted to the wrist. Heart pounding, Suzaku takes the loose tasuki in his other hand and reaches in, feeling blindly.
A muzzle - and then the spindly bone of a fawn’s leg, flexed back at its ankle. Back lowered and kneeling in the hay, Suzaku holds his breath and tugs gently. His palm cups the cloven hoof. It is difficult not to sag in relief right then and there - but the work is not over yet.
Suzaku grits his teeth. There is not enough room for him to maneuver and tie the cloth around the two legs without the risk of injuring the fawn’s mother, so he settles for looping it around the feet, aware of every new second that passes.
He finishes the second loop just as Burai shifts her head and pushes. Suzaku pulls.
The legs come forth, the head appearing at the entrance, and Suzaku moves back for more room, glancing upward to check on the elk. She has paused to rest once more, sides heaving.
The normal practice here would be to pull only when the mother strained, but Burai is old and the fawn has been waiting to emerge for longer than it should have.
If they are anything like horses... Suzaku makes a decision, grabs both front legs, steadies himself, and pulls hard and firm.
Once - and then another time until there is give - and once more, sitting back and using more of his own weight, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining as the whole fawn slides out at last, bloodied sac and all.
“Ue-sama - ” It comes from both of the hovering stablehands, in their voices notes of awe mingled with lingering concern.
Suzaku holds up a hand to bid them wait, his own heart in his throat and a bead of sweat snaking its way down near his ear as he watches the unmoving form in the hay and its mother.
If the old elk is too tired to move they will have to clean the fawn themselves, hope that they are not too late, that they can somehow get it breathing --
Burai raises her head. With effort and a long grunt, the elk slowly gets to her feet and turns to begin nosing at the bundle below her. She licks - gingerly at first and then gradually with vigor, cleaning the membrane off its nose and face until its head moves together with the force of her tongue.
There is nothing, not even when she moves on to clean the rest of the body.
And then a twitch, and a shudder through the smaller creature as its chest flutters to life and begins heaving rapidly - and Suzaku feels a breath he does not remember holding rush out of him, in something close to a laugh.
The stablehands are smiling too, from behind him, and Suzaku exchanges his own smile and a nod with Meguro when he meets her eyes over the stall door.
Outside, light has already begun to paint the sky.
Suzaku wipes his hands off on more of the towels, and then makes a soft request.
“Send for the Prince. I think he might like to see this.”
The new fawn is male - that much has been determined now - alert and bright-eyed much to the relief of all who were present for the birth. Now Burai is nosing the smaller elk firmly up by his belly, and Suzaku folds arms over the stall door and watches quietly from the outside as Lelouch arrives to stand by him, the caretakers and servants having moved off to tend to their other duties after setting down fresh bedding.
To witness a newborn learn to stand and walk has always been heartwarming to Suzaku, and Lelouch smiles too as the fawn responds to Burai’s urging and begins struggling to bring his feet under him.
“He looks healthy.”
A small miracle, considering how this fawn has been born earlier than all the rest. He lives, Suzaku thinks, and then says softly, “With thanks to you.”
Lelouch hums. “A good guess, nothing more.” His eyes are soft when he turns to Suzaku. “I was not the one to pull him from his mother’s womb.”
“Still,” Suzaku lets his gaze drift back to the inside of the stall, where the fawn’s front legs have given out, splayed before him - but he is trying again, determined. “His name is yours to give, at least.” One leg up - then the next, and then slowly, wobbling, the hinds. “And if you wish he will be yours to ride when he comes of age. It’s more pleasant than a horse’s back,” Suzaku smiles, “if you are accustomed.”
“Alright,” Lelouch lets out a soft laugh, even as the fawn’s spindly legs buckle underneath him once more.
With a whuff of air Burai again nudges the younger elk up with her nose, ears flicking patiently, this time supporting him briefly with a muzzle as he struggles upward. The word comes quietly on Lelouch’s breath as the attempt at last succeeds and the fawn is standing, steadying himself on four trembling feet.
“Gawain.”
A Britannian name, the sound of it smooth on Lelouch’s lips and tongue.
“The first of Britannia’s winged steeds,” Lelouch says, as the fawn takes his first shaking step forward, and then another, “in the legends.”
Suzaku feels the corners of his mouth turn up. “This is an elk.”
“The shogun objects?” Lelouch smirks back, clearly having caught the light amusement in Suzaku’s voice.
“...No,” Suzaku admits to the teasing with another smile. There is at times a fondness for grand names among Westerosi - particularly Britannians - that he recognizes, and from the sound of it, it is indeed a big name for one still so small - though perhaps not in time to come, especially when this fawn’s antlers will grow in, and when he is the first elk to belong to the Dragon Prince.
“It’ll be a fitting name for one borne by Burai,” he says, watching as the doe touches noses with her young and managing to push down a memory of his father’s voice, feeling his smile turn somewhat wry. “Besides - a shogun does not easily go back on their word.”
“...Well,” Lelouch says softly, as Gawain with faltering steps and more gentle nudging from his mother’s snout makes his way to her underside. “I will be happy to accept him. Thank you.”
The fawn finds what he is looking for and begins to suckle, in strong, hungry pulls. It is a comforting sign after the morning’s small ordeal, and when Suzaku glances over to find Lelouch looking serenely upon them, Lelouch, too, meets his gaze only half a moment later.
The dark fan of lashes against his skin when he blinks is difficult not to admire. A wordless smile passes between them, and Suzaku would have leaned the few inches forward and kissed him, then, would have found the privacy sufficient for a small, shared moment alone - if not for the scent that he catches, milky sweet and pleasant, still faint but unmistakable in the way his whole body responds, the need waking and stirring within him, a desire to draw closer to Lelouch for more.
Suzaku pulls slowly away instead, swallowing around sudden dryness. “...It might be time.”
A little faster than expected, though such things are not uncommon. Lelouch reacts with calm, the hand drifting half-consciously toward the skin on his neck behind his ear the only indication that he had perhaps not realized it himself.
“Have Sayoko escort you on ahead,” Suzaku hears himself say, aware that he has tightened his grip slightly on the stall door. “I’ll finish cleaning up here and be with you in a bit.”
Lelouch draws back with a nod, quiet as the seriousness of the moment impresses itself on them both.
“Of course.”
The beginning of heat is a subtle climb, rarely a sudden flood whether or not it has been successfully suppressed. Suzaku feels it building within him regardless - in the warmth at his center that will not dissipate even as he dips himself into the cold bath prepared for them in the chambers, in the growing ache as he lets water wash over his eyes and hair. In the slight shiver that runs through him whenever he catches hints of Lelouch’s own onsetting heat - Lelouch, who would also have used a cold bath to manage it and prepare, Lelouch who will be ready and waiting for him in the next room.
The room has been readied for them too, Suzaku finds as he enters quietly, heartbeat already quickening a little under his skin. There are towels set to the side, tall flasks of water for drinking and countering the warmth in their bodies should it get too uncomfortable. Servants and guards are now absent from their quarters, where their coming together will be protected and where they will be granted privacy for as long as it is needed.
Unlike the last evening Lelouch is already curled loosely on the futon, a fresh set of robes loose too around his shoulders, his form restful but clearly awake, from the way his eyes open and drift to Suzaku at the sound of the door sliding shut.
Lelouch says nothing, the soft, honeyed milk scent of an omega in heat stronger now and saying it all, coiled with something else that reminds Suzaku somewhat of lavender flowers and grass, distinctly Lelouch’s and the most comforting, welcoming smell Suzaku knows in that moment as it permeates the room.
Suzaku feels himself pause, even as his pulse does not, the gravity of everything settling on him once more with finality.
There is a last rite to be performed here, he recalls being taught upon coming of age - more of a formality and customary practice, but not one entirely without function. A final check for permission, an act of reverence for what a potential father is about to receive from a mate, a way to honor the right to refuse if a mate for any reason wanted to go through a heat alone. He wonders briefly if Lelouch has been advised on this as well, if Lelouch will know the ways to respond regardless -- realizes he has neglected to check how often it is even practiced among the clan now, especially if the desire between both mates is obvious.
Suzaku decides he will err on the side of caution.
He kneels by Lelouch’s feet, bends in an approximation of a bow, and, slowly, cups an ankle and presses his lips to the warming skin in a soft kiss.
Lelouch does not let his knees part slowly in welcome, but neither does he draw them in toward himself and shy away. Instead he is pushing himself up onto an elbow, pupils already dilated from the beginnings of heat and the words low and curious, “What are you doing?”
Ah. So he does not know.
Suzaku explains softly, “We do not commence an act of bonding in full heat unless we are accepted at the feet of the one who is likely to bear a child from it.” He pauses and feels himself give Lelouch a small smile. “That is what I have been told, at least.”
So he continues without waiting for further response, this time pressing his shoulders to the ground in a reprise of what they did with the townsfolk the day before.
“Taiyoushi.” Sun-child, bearer of new life -- And Suzaku utters the request which he knows is the same in the words of his clan as it is in the common tongue: “If you will allow me - then with this, please entrust yourself to me. And let me likewise entrust myself to you, both now and for all time hereafter.”
He raises his head at Lelouch’s movement and finds him sitting up further, enough to catch his gaze at the same level. “You already have my answer,” Lelouch says, with the same softness that is in his smile, “from half a moon ago.”
Suzaku feels himself smile in turn. It is as clear an approval as any, so when Lelouch lowers himself back onto the bedding Suzaku says nothing more, and climbs carefully to his side.
Lelouch goes quiet too, turning slowly toward him as Suzaku’s knee presses onto the mattress, eyes fever-bright and watching him. From above him Suzaku holds his gaze, lowers himself till their faces are almost touching, till the scents of both their needs are twining together in his senses and his heart is pounding in his ears, the weight of what they are about to do - what they need to do - heavy between them.
Lelouch is trembling faintly when their eyes close and their lips finally touch in a slow kiss - very, very slow.
Suzaku’s own breath trembles, when he does draw it, the feel of Lelouch already sending want and need curling with renewed insistence through his lower half and limbs. Lelouch’s mouth parts against his. Their tongues meet, in a warm, wet slide that unfurls something wound tight at his center into a shiver.
And just like that the moment is changed, as if something in Lelouch has been unlatched and everything that it was holding back is now pouring out - in a long whimper that scrapes the back of Lelouch’s throat as he presses back and arches up into Suzaku with new fervor, hips already beginning to drag themselves against his thigh.
It is fevered. It is desperate, as he lets Lelouch roll them onto their sides, Lelouch’s hands tugging at his sash behind him even as they continue kissing. Desperate - and perhaps something else. The sash comes free this time, but Lelouch’s actions are frantic - agitated, almost, his hands shaking and his breaths coming shorter against Suzaku’s mouth.
In truth it frightens Suzaku, too - that this is happening, the intensity of a heat that is coming upon his body unbridled for the first time in his life. It will be new for them both, like never before - though perhaps especially for Lelouch, untouched and uninitiated until only a night ago. His to bond, his to answer, his to fill and give to -- And already, instinct is clawing at him, demanding relief and that he heed nothing else - that he respond to the calling of Lelouch’s body that needs him, that wants him terribly for its own relief. But Suzaku does not want to risk hurting either of them in blind frenzy, little though Lelouch may mind in his current state.
With effort he tries to slow their pace, tries to soothe despite his own trembling - using long, deliberate strokes against Lelouch’s tongue, slipping his hand into Lelouch’s yukata and spreading it over fever-warmed skin, gently pushing the already loosened cloth from him.
The effect is almost immediately apparent, Lelouch responding to his touch by releasing a sighing, submissive sound into his mouth and then going pliant in his arms, a simple display of trust and surrender - and at once, it feels as if something warm and aching has taken hold of Suzaku’s heart and squeezed it gently.
It is empowering, and indeed terrifying at the same time, even though there is no question now that they will get through it. It makes him want to take as much time and care as they can, to open Lelouch slowly just like the night before until he forgets to think, not simply because of their heat. To draw out Lelouch’s relief even as he takes his own.
Suzaku swallows and rubs circles into Lelouch’s shoulder, shifts to trail his lips down Lelouch’s neck and taste. It is warm and inviting, with the right hint of sweetness on his tongue. Carefully he maneuvers them so that Lelouch is once again on his back, his breaths a little quieter but still shuddering as Suzaku grazes his skin lightly with his teeth. He is flushed there, the color spreading, and Suzaku begins tonguing it, following it down to the small pink of his nipples, already firm and darkened, perhaps more so than they were under the lamplight hours ago.
The noise Lelouch makes when Suzaku closes his mouth over one of them is loud and low, his heartbeat flaring underneath his skin - enough that Suzaku can feel it against his lips. Immediately the scent becomes stronger, wetter, grows wetter still with each lick of Suzaku’s tongue. Suzaku drinks it in, sucks lightly on the small nub, and full-bodied shudders go through Lelouch, his fingers curling into Suzaku’s shoulders and his panting sharp as it leaves his throat in thin, wheezing sounds.
Lelouch was already sensitive before; in heat, everything is only magnified. Suzaku opens his eyes briefly and finds Lelouch with his face flushed from arousal and turned into the pillows, his own eyes sealed shut and his jaw clamped tight, perhaps in an attempt to hold on despite looking as affected as he seemed to be near the peak of his pleasure the night before.
He wonders if it is possible that Lelouch will come just like this, while they are in this state, savors the sweet outpouring of Lelouch’s need for it into his senses when he moves to the other nipple, sucking firmer. It is highly possible that Lelouch will come. He can smell its inevitable approach, feel it in the way it makes Lelouch now curl around him with a shaking cry, and then another, legs folding further to draw him closer and hips once again rocking unconsciously against him. And Suzaku -- needs more of it himself, wants to wrap himself in this, in scent and sound where he feels safe, wanted, needed, both body and soul.
But not this way, where he knows it will not be enough to satiate the true need of an omega’s body in heat.
“S-Suzaku,” His name, hoarse and pleading from Lelouch. “Suzaku.” Hands in his hair now, tightening slightly in place of what Lelouch seems to need to say but cannot find the voice for, his throat closing around another cry before it sounds as Suzaku laves his nipple again.
Not this way. Nearly needing to shake himself out of it, Suzaku relents and moves back up to kiss him, and Lelouch lets another sweet, aching sound into his mouth as he pulls the rest of Lelouch’s robe away and out from under him, stroking a hand soothingly down his side, to his rear.
Suzaku does not have to touch him there to know that he is already soaked, wet and open, body driven by the innermost impulse that takes hold of every one of them two, three times a year, sometimes even more. It sends a painful throb through his groin all the same when his hand meets with dampness - and elsewhere Suzaku feels more of his own slick, too, leaking out between his thighs. His mouth feels dry when he cups Lelouch through the fabric, smoothing a moistened palm against his erection, and Lelouch groans.
“...If you ever,” Suzaku can hardly hear himself murmuring as he slips the last piece of cloth down and off Lelouch, “-need me to stop --”
“- I’ll tell you,” Lelouch promises, breathless as Suzaku dips fingers into the wetness between his legs. “Keep... -” a choked-off sound as Suzaku wraps a hand around his cock - swollen and flushed and warm in his palm. “-Keep going.”
Suzaku strokes his length, circles his thumb around the head and then rubs it against the underside, where the base of the head meets the shaft and where he knows it is deeply pleasurable for most, including himself. And Lelouch is no exception, judging from their first night together and from the way his body now lurches upward into the touch, a gasp like the beginning of a shocked whine hitching at the back of his throat as his mouth falls silently open. Suzaku feels something primal clenching in his abdomen in response, his own arousal already heavy between his legs and protesting the agony of delay.
He sits up further, settling fully between Lelouch’s legs, and Lelouch whimpers as he circles the sweet spot once more with his thumb, more pre-come leaking out to cover his tip.
There is no small amount of slick, too, that Suzaku can now see - so much of it, already smeared on the sheets and spreading easily once more onto his fingers before he touches them to Lelouch’s entrance - pink and furling eagerly in a slow throb while Lelouch makes a soft, desperate noise, his legs drawn up and shivering and his hips immediately moving downward, as if attempting to catch Suzaku’s fingers and bring them into himself.
Lelouch will not need much preparation if his body is this ready. Swallowing, Suzaku eases two fingers into him, his other hand on one of Lelouch’s spread knees, steadying them both. It opens for him with little resistance, hot and tight and yet yielding just enough, Lelouch’s breaths in long, uneven exhales. Suzaku brushes Lelouch’s glands with his fingertips and it is -- mesmerizing - the way Lelouch’s mouth drops open once more, his hips lifting to start thrusting blindly back down onto Suzaku’s hand, seeking further contact as low sobs begin to escape him.
The walls relax further around his fingers but become almost impossibly hotter, and Suzaku can hear his own breath shaking, the blood roaring in his ears, even as he comes back to himself enough to stretch Lelouch and thrust. He rubs and circles against the same place, until his hand is almost wet to the wrist and Lelouch’s hips are writhing in response and Lelouch is keening, unable to open his eyes and unable to close his mouth against the gasps that are wracking his chest. His hands are twisted into the sheets, thighs spread fully open and shaking with the effort of holding up his hips, the line of his neck exposed with his head fallen back.
He looks fine-boned, delicate - spread bare and more than ready with his control long lost and his entrance swollen and so very, very wet - and it is the most breathtaking sight that has ever been before Suzaku, the fact that this intense, beautiful, strong-willed prince would give himself over to him to be entirely unraveled like this.
He would continue, just so he can keep taking the vision in, but it is suddenly too warm, and he has to stop when he realizes distantly that he is panting, too, just from having his fingers inside Lelouch. Suzaku removes them, slowly, and Lelouch lets out a moan that sounds like frustration, but Suzaku has to -- move away, so that he can quickly push off his own clothing for some relief, still feeling as though he is half in a daze.
Lelouch has not moved much when Suzaku turns back to him, hands still fisted in the sheets at his sides, but his eyes have come open slightly to look at him, hazed as he breathlessly rasps something that can only be Suzaku’s name. His knees remain parted, his cock stiff and swollen between them, and slowly he lifts his hips once more in an entreaty - silent, and yet the loudest and clearest one Suzaku will possibly ever know.
Please, all the lines of his body are saying. Please, oh, please, please, please.
Suzaku has to fight every instinct not to enter and take him right there, as he moves back up to cover Lelouch’s body with his, his cock now freed and sliding against Lelouch’s in the abundance of slick. He feels a helpless sound of relief escape through his teeth at their combined wetness, now on his bare skin, his hips slipping instinctively downward to coat himself further and Lelouch’s arms pulling him in as they kiss - and that is when Suzaku realizes that it is no longer silent, that Lelouch is uttering the words blindly and feverishly against him. “Please. Please please --”
“--Hold on,” Suzaku manages to rasp into his neck, giddy with his own need and from the overwhelming wash of both their scents. He cradles the back of Lelouch’s head with one hand, an anchor against which to position himself as he moves down to rub slowly against Lelouch’s entrance. Lelouch whimpers. Suzaku presses the head of his cock to the same place, satisfying a primal urge to let it feel the weight of his desire before he enters, and the sound gives way to quick, gasping moans that fall from Lelouch’s mouth, desperate and almost mindless as Suzaku feels the ring of muscle flutter in answer against him.
It causes Suzaku’s breath to leave him in a hoarse exhale, something in his throat closing tight as he looks down at Lelouch and sweeps a thumb across his temple, tenderly pushing dark hair from eyes already shut to all else.
And then, then he is letting himself sink in - at long last -- heart thundering almost painfully in his chest.
It is smooth, but tight - perhaps somehow even tighter than it felt the night before - and slow - and Suzaku feels himself half-choke, all thought deserting him as he slips in, inch by agonizing inch. Lelouch shakes beneath him, his hands clutching at Suzaku’s shoulders and the open-mouthed moans turning into short, trembling cries helpless in between his gasps as he is newly opened and entered with what his body seeks, walls closing just as helplessly around Suzaku with each push forward, as if from the shock of finally being met with the fullness of it -- as if to take him further in.
The flood of sensation is almost too much to bear, the steady clench and release as Lelouch’s body yields to him, and the heat is maddening, so much so that Suzaku’s vision is losing focus, the muscles in his arms threatening to give way. He cannot help but drop his forehead, to the space between Lelouch’s neck and collarbone, burying his face there and into the wonderful, enveloping scent as he pants and Lelouch continues to shake.
It feels like an eternity - but when at last he is fully in and has steadied himself enough to check on his mate, his own breaths still trembling and uneven, Lelouch’s eyes have reopened too, the violet in them now deep and bright and fevered, his lips half-parted and pale chest heaving as he slides a hand into the hair at the back of Suzaku’s neck, pulling him closer.
“...Fuck me,” Lelouch manages to whisper, words that exist only in his native tongue - the only tongue he seems able to speak in this moment - but Suzaku would have understood him regardless. Another shudder, the wave of need sending Lelouch’s eyes shut once more. “-oh, gods, f-fuck...”
Suzaku does not need to be told twice, and moves on his next breath before Lelouch can finish, unsure which of them sobs louder at the immediate give and take of relief.
It feels incredible, perfect - like it was made for him, made for this - the immense pleasure of soft, wet heat, every thrust gliding in and out with ease. The cries that are pushed out from Lelouch’s mouth as he takes each one, his cock heavy too and pulsing once, twice between them as they move. Suzaku has taken partners in heat to his bed before, but never without being on strong suppressants - and never has anything felt this consuming or this intense, not in his memory.
Never could anything have prepared him, either, for the moment on his next thrust when the widest part of his cock catches neatly on the ridge of glands on Lelouch’s front wall - for the loud cry that it tears from Lelouch’s throat, raw, pleading as his body wrenches off the mattress, arms grasping. Suzaku barely manages to shift his weight onto one elbow without slipping, reaching half-blind to hold the back of Lelouch’s knee up and in place, his heart feeling like it is about to split open when Lelouch cries out again, voice pure and broken as Suzaku drives back into him - and again, and again.
The need - to answer, to push deeper, firmer, and give Lelouch’s body the full relief it also needs - is heavy, unbearably insistent - and renewed like a tide, with each slip into Lelouch that sends white behind Suzaku’s eyelids and sharp pleasure flaring from his center to the rest of his being. It takes two, maybe three more strokes before Lelouch is coming, with a great sob as the tension in him breaks, spilling into long shudders and wetness between them as he holds on to Suzaku and as Suzaku rocks them through it, Lelouch helplessly breathing ragged moans into his hair and whatever skin he can reach.
He presses his own wordless response into Lelouch’s neck, unable to open his eyes as he lets his hips continue to move against -- into the pull of his contracting walls, where the clamping would ordinarily have been more than enough to carry him over the edge as well. Ordinarily, but not here - where despite the overwhelming sensation he can feel now that it will be awhile yet before his own completion, and it becomes clear that his body is preparing itself, for the release that they will both need, for the endurance to last at least one other round before he knots.
Lelouch is still shaking under him, gasps slowing now though they are wavering, interrupted by some of Suzaku’s thrusts that draw small involuntary noises from him, his body jerking. Between them Suzaku registers the feel of Lelouch’s cock, still twitching, evidence of his own body’s easily renewed demand during heat.
He manages to even his breathing, harsh though it remains as he takes Lelouch slower, deeper. Opens his eyes. Lelouch meets his gaze, his own eyelids lifting when he feels Suzaku shifting to look upon him. He looks just as flushed and helpless as Suzaku feels, the color rich on fair skin, and for a few moments they are breathing together with no words, and only sensation between them. Eventually Suzaku dips his head to kiss him, and finds the voice necessary to whisper against his lips.
“Do you... -do you think you can turn around for me?”
A request, for there is no point in urging Lelouch into a position he may not be able to hold up in his state.
After a moment Lelouch nods, slowly, his limbs tensing as he tests them. He swallows as he tries to get up, still trembling a little, and Suzaku slips out and moves back to give him room, heart aching as Lelouch willingly turns on arms and knees to present his back to him, his breath in slow shudders.
His head is dipped low between his shoulders, the back of his neck exposed, vulnerable. To offer one’s neck in this way is submission and supplication in its purest form, especially so among the clan, perhaps even more than it would be in the west - and the sight alone is enough to arrest Suzaku for another full moment, desire to give, love and protect seizing him almost painfully together with the need to be back inside Lelouch, to knot and fill him and take and take even as he gives. It sears through him, bright and contradicting in how he is rendered briefly unable to move from the force of it, not expecting the breath to be torn from him the way it is.
But he has little time after to dwell on the possible baseness of his reaction, his body now moving almost of its own accord to mouth his way in slow kisses down Lelouch’s spine, from the center of his bared neck to the pale expanse of his back, porcelain and completely unmarred. Gods, he is beautiful. So beautiful. Only at Lelouch’s answering murmur does he realize he may have spoken the words aloud.
He nuzzles against Lelouch’s skin, wants to write into it with his breath and mouth, kissing until he reaches his rear, the center between Lelouch’s thighs streaked with slick and where the scent is just as prominent - sweet and clean and yet sending the need reverberating through him until it is difficult to think of anything else.
Suzaku inhales deeply, presses his lips to the wetness trickling down the inside of Lelouch’s thigh. It is clear, like its scent and the morning air. Lelouch’s legs tremble as he licks, wanting to lap the slick slowly up to Lelouch’s slit, in between cheeks that he will part.
“Don’t-” The voice comes strained, as the trembling worsens, and Suzaku pauses to realize Lelouch is shaking on his arms as well, head still down and eyes shut. “I can’t-- I won’t be able to hold.”
“--Alright,” Suzaku whispers, half-berating himself for failing to keep enough attention on Lelouch’s endurance. He moves back up over Lelouch, placing a kiss on Lelouch’s left shoulder as he aligns himself. “It’s alright.”
This time it is even easier, Lelouch opening to him in a sweet, wet slide, their bodies pushing together as the relief washes up into Suzaku and a soft moan escapes Lelouch. This way he can hold Lelouch’s body flush against his, feel each shiver and the tension undulating in Lelouch at each thrust inside him, hot and raw and bright. It is good, much too good, and Suzaku feels himself already moving faster, deeper, the cries tumbling from Lelouch’s mouth at each push.
Harder. Suzaku presses ragged breaths to the base of Lelouch’s neck and surges forward, wanting every flex and spasm, every assent that Lelouch’s body gives to him as it reshapes itself against him. Every thick, wet stroke inside Lelouch and every deliberate pound of hips that shakes them both, that has Lelouch now wracked with wailing sobs, mouth slack and his chest held up by little more than the grip of Suzaku’s arm.
He has a brief moment of recognition when Lelouch is about to come, his cries sharpening, frantic, the feel of his heartbeat hammering and something welling in him and on the edge, pressed against each other as they are. It breaks, and Lelouch is buckling at the elbows, taken down and further forward as he is flooded with the force of it, Suzaku’s hand on his chest the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely as he buries his sobs into the sheets.
It is as if brightness is engulfing them, and Suzaku feels the moment only in the shuddering of muscles around him, against him, threatening to swallow him whole. His teeth are clenching and the angle is shifting, letting him breach impossibly deeper still and oh gods. Oh. Suzaku cannot see. He needs his hold on Lelouch to ground himself, his forehead pressed between Lelouch’s shoulder blades as his own back bows and he comes at last, at last, the orgasm rushing hard enough through him that he cannot remember if he even breathes, for those long few moments.
On the final surges of it he feels the knot begin, a new ache that digs deep into his abdomen and then seizes his cock from its base to its tip in a long, pulsing pull - and then another, and another - nothing like how it was before, and Suzaku can only gulp with a helpless whimper, holding blindly on to Lelouch as it starts filling him.
Beneath him Lelouch lets out a soft, small noise at the feel of it, walls closing in around him even as he accommodates. It is the gentle clenching around his forming knot that sends another tugging wave through Suzaku, a torrent of warmth as his heart is pulled open and the base of his cock swells achingly to its fullest. Suzaku muffles a thin sound from his throat into Lelouch’s skin, Lelouch’s own voice giving way to a broken sob, whimpering and his body still clutching him in slow, answering throbs as it stretches to take the full width of it, Suzaku’s hips rocking incrementally until they can move no further, go no deeper, until he is filling up Lelouch as much as he can, still spilling inside of him.
It is altogether too much, and difficult to tell whose limbs give out first from under them, Suzaku slipping and barely adjusting his hold in time to keep from collapsing on top of Lelouch. With what presence of mind he has left he lowers them carefully onto the bedding, coaxes Lelouch onto their sides, where his chest is pressed against Lelouch’s back and where they will be more comfortable.
Lelouch is still shivering in his arms, mouth hanging open in soft gasps at the pleasure and relief brought by the knot inside of him, now binding them together and making withdrawal physically impossible until it subsides in another hour or two.
With a kiss to his hair Suzaku slips a hand to Lelouch’s lower abdomen to palm it in slow circles, a gentle and firm, coaxing motion against the place that is receiving its fill. There -- and it proves enough, Lelouch arching back into him with a small noise of surprise and his climax beginning anew against the slowing pulse of Suzaku’s release.
This time only a few more new drops of wetness from Lelouch’s cock brush the back of Suzaku’s hand, the rest of it already smeared and drying on Lelouch’s front from earlier. But Lelouch’s body is clenching rhythmically around him and Suzaku cannot help the soft sound he makes in response, both of them shuddering as Lelouch reaches blindly to cover Suzaku’s hand on his abdomen, grasping tight as if to pull him closer still when they are already as close and connected as they can possibly be. Suzaku shifts his hips all the same, thrusting within what little room he has left, and Lelouch moans low and quiet, shaking as the last waves of it take him.
At one point it occurs to Suzaku that he should reach for a towel to rub them down where he can, but it is difficult to move; his limbs are heavy and he can feel Lelouch’s consciousness already slipping against him. Lelouch is rightfully exhausted.
They will simply have to bathe again, later. Suzaku closes his eyes, breathing into Lelouch’s neck and hair - and lets himself follow, drifting into dreamless sleep.