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poisonangel7
Characters/Pairings: Conrad/Gisela and implied, one-sided Conrad/Julia
Word Count: 1,380
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Sexual content
Author’s Note: Written forarana_suteshi’s birthday and inspired by jojo_kun’s fanart (NSFW) at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kkm_challenge.
Conrad had never enjoyed tents. He had stayed in plenty of them during his travels with his father and now with the war effort he found himself beneath the cloth roof once again.
As he had lain on the stiff cot he had remembered why he didn’t enjoy tents. It was the way all the sides would simultaneously suck in and then billow outward in the wind as if he were watching some larger organism breath from the inside. It was unsettling.
Still, it had a nice way of taking his mind off the events of the past few days. There hadn’t been any major battles yet, but it seemed like the random skirmishes would never end. He’d been awake for almost two days when he found himself pushing a raw cadet out of the way of a death stroke and receiving a deep slice across his chest for his troubles. He should have been able to avoid it. The wound didn’t sit well with him. That was part of the reason he’d tried to tend to it himself, avoiding the medical tents entirely.
But “tried” was the operative word. There was just something about healers. They all seemed uncannily able to read his mind, which was an unreasonably alarming prospect.
He heard the soft sound of what passes for a door to the tent open. The footfalls that walked toward him were light, so it was not a soldier, but not as light as hers.
“Gisela,” he said as he put the effort into opening his eyes, which turned out to be a more difficult task than he’d expected.
“Were you expecting me?” she asked rhetorically. “Because I was actually expecting to see you in the medical tents.”
“It’s not too deep.”
“I’m not grading on a curve here.” Gisela’s voice was stern. He could remember the sweet, shy girl he’d met not so long ago—the one who was nervous about going on a mission with the Maou’s son.
“If you were one of your soldiers avoiding the healers you’d send them our way so fast they wouldn’t have time to say, ‘disciplinary action.’”
She’d gotten over it quickly.
The often sullen and occasionally mischievous brunet began to push himself up, ready to surrender to the healer, but a small, strong hand quickly restrained him.
“I’m already here. Besides, I don’t want to drag you to the medical tent when you collapse on the way.”
He smiled slightly and nodded his consent, not that she had asked for it.
Conrad found her to be a strange girl. One moment she reminded him of a certain irrepressible redhead who actually wore dresses more frequently despite being a man…
Without asking for permission, she began to work the bandages he’d used on himself free. He’d done as well as an untrained, Maryoku-less medic working on himself could do. In short, not good enough.
Her fingers grazed over his skin lightly as her medical training took over. She sent her power just below the surface, assessing the full scope of the damage in need of repair.
It was deep. It was too deep for her liking.
“You really should be more careful,” she advised with concern clearly etched into her tone even as she attempted to mask it. A green light engulfed one of her hands. To Conrad it felt warm with just a slight tingle.
…And it was times like these that she reminded him more of a certain blind woman whose very being radiated warmth and hope.
This time it was Conrad who reached out to touch the woman. His palm slid softly over her uniformed arm and she looked up at him with wide, green eyes. They were too much like a certain blond boy’s, who had stopped looking at him. So he closed the short distance between them to take her lips and shut her eyes.
It wasn’t their first kiss. That had been a week before and it was hard to tell whom it had surprised more. And it was just as surprising how badly they both needed the release.
Gisela was a young healer with aptitude but not a prodigy like her instructor, Julia. This was her first mission without the other woman and she had only recently been “adopted” into one of the noble families and was desperate to prove herself.
Conrad had been given the opportunity to lead. He was a skilled soldier—the best of his class—the best the academy had seen in years. He was the son of the Maou. But he was also the son of human. And humans were the enemy. He wanted to prove himself for the sake of the others like them.
The pressure they placed upon themselves was as immense as their quickly formed physical relationship was intense.
But this time, Gisela pulled back. “You’re injured.”
“If only I knew a good healer,” he quipped.
“Only great healers in here,” came her confident-sounding retort right before Conrad’s fingers began loosening the fasteners of her uniform. Once the fabric was parted, it hung loosely over her pale skin, covering most of it from view but his hand dipped inside to explore.
He cupped the swell of her breast and she trembled slightly. The soldier smiled at the reaction despite the pain in his chest and gently rolled a pink nipple between his fingertips.
Not to be outdone, the young woman climbed on top of the bed, straddling the older man. She threw her shoulders back letting the top of the uniform slip off completely onto the floor.
His hands moved back toward the newly uncovered form, but she grabbed his wrists. “Not until you’re fixed.”
He snorted slightly, ready to argue that such a thing was not possible, but she spoke first. “But you can make yourself useful.” She lowered his hands to her pants and he wasted no time edging the fabric down her ample hips, revealing her thighs and the von Christ family, violet thong. Though he would not be sharing with her how he came to know that was the families’ undergarment color of choice.
She lifted herself up, wiggling slightly to encourage the material to slide down out of her way. With a less than graceful move, the rest of her uniform joined the first part on the floor.
Two fingers slid over the remaining cloth, feeling the heat beneath it.
“I said, not yet.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she remained determined as she quickly removed the last bit of covering that seemed to entertain him so. Next, she pushed his hands down, satisfied when he opted for resting it on her thigh rather than elsewhere.
Returning her hands to his chest, that same warm, green glow emanated around them, seeking the injured flesh and slowly knitting it back together and restoring vitality.
Her eyes closed and she began to rock against him. She could feel long strands of hair falling around her face and she knew if she looked down at the man below she’d see him watching her intently. All the more reason to keep them closed.
Her Maryoku connected them and for once she was under her skin the way he’d be under hers. Her hips rocked faster and she could feel Conrad pushing the covers back. She lifted herself to help him.
What happened next was a blur of skin and movement and magic.
Gisela’s eyes opened slowly as her body buzz seeped away, leaving only a warm glow and the memory of their encounter. Conrad was beside her, still watching intently as if she were somehow very captivating.
A blush crossed her cheeks, but she sat up and managed a dignified, albeit naked composure. “It’s going to be tender for a few days. You should,” she paused realizing the irony, “take it easy.”
“Of course. I’ll take it easy and you’ll remember your limits,” he lied pointedly.
Gisela only nodded as she got off the bed and gathered her previously discarded uniform. She couldn’t have lingered any longer. She had to manage the supplies, check on her patients, and wonder how any of this was actually happening.
Conrad watched her until she disappeared through the flap in the tent and his thoughts slowly turned from one healer to another.
poisonangel7Characters/Pairings: Conrad/Gisela and implied, one-sided Conrad/Julia
Word Count: 1,380
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Sexual content
Author’s Note: Written for
arana_suteshi’s birthday and inspired by jojo_kun’s fanart (NSFW) at kkm_challenge.Conrad had never enjoyed tents. He had stayed in plenty of them during his travels with his father and now with the war effort he found himself beneath the cloth roof once again.
As he had lain on the stiff cot he had remembered why he didn’t enjoy tents. It was the way all the sides would simultaneously suck in and then billow outward in the wind as if he were watching some larger organism breath from the inside. It was unsettling.
Still, it had a nice way of taking his mind off the events of the past few days. There hadn’t been any major battles yet, but it seemed like the random skirmishes would never end. He’d been awake for almost two days when he found himself pushing a raw cadet out of the way of a death stroke and receiving a deep slice across his chest for his troubles. He should have been able to avoid it. The wound didn’t sit well with him. That was part of the reason he’d tried to tend to it himself, avoiding the medical tents entirely.
But “tried” was the operative word. There was just something about healers. They all seemed uncannily able to read his mind, which was an unreasonably alarming prospect.
He heard the soft sound of what passes for a door to the tent open. The footfalls that walked toward him were light, so it was not a soldier, but not as light as hers.
“Gisela,” he said as he put the effort into opening his eyes, which turned out to be a more difficult task than he’d expected.
“Were you expecting me?” she asked rhetorically. “Because I was actually expecting to see you in the medical tents.”
“It’s not too deep.”
“I’m not grading on a curve here.” Gisela’s voice was stern. He could remember the sweet, shy girl he’d met not so long ago—the one who was nervous about going on a mission with the Maou’s son.
“If you were one of your soldiers avoiding the healers you’d send them our way so fast they wouldn’t have time to say, ‘disciplinary action.’”
She’d gotten over it quickly.
The often sullen and occasionally mischievous brunet began to push himself up, ready to surrender to the healer, but a small, strong hand quickly restrained him.
“I’m already here. Besides, I don’t want to drag you to the medical tent when you collapse on the way.”
He smiled slightly and nodded his consent, not that she had asked for it.
Conrad found her to be a strange girl. One moment she reminded him of a certain irrepressible redhead who actually wore dresses more frequently despite being a man…
Without asking for permission, she began to work the bandages he’d used on himself free. He’d done as well as an untrained, Maryoku-less medic working on himself could do. In short, not good enough.
Her fingers grazed over his skin lightly as her medical training took over. She sent her power just below the surface, assessing the full scope of the damage in need of repair.
It was deep. It was too deep for her liking.
“You really should be more careful,” she advised with concern clearly etched into her tone even as she attempted to mask it. A green light engulfed one of her hands. To Conrad it felt warm with just a slight tingle.
…And it was times like these that she reminded him more of a certain blind woman whose very being radiated warmth and hope.
This time it was Conrad who reached out to touch the woman. His palm slid softly over her uniformed arm and she looked up at him with wide, green eyes. They were too much like a certain blond boy’s, who had stopped looking at him. So he closed the short distance between them to take her lips and shut her eyes.
It wasn’t their first kiss. That had been a week before and it was hard to tell whom it had surprised more. And it was just as surprising how badly they both needed the release.
Gisela was a young healer with aptitude but not a prodigy like her instructor, Julia. This was her first mission without the other woman and she had only recently been “adopted” into one of the noble families and was desperate to prove herself.
Conrad had been given the opportunity to lead. He was a skilled soldier—the best of his class—the best the academy had seen in years. He was the son of the Maou. But he was also the son of human. And humans were the enemy. He wanted to prove himself for the sake of the others like them.
The pressure they placed upon themselves was as immense as their quickly formed physical relationship was intense.
But this time, Gisela pulled back. “You’re injured.”
“If only I knew a good healer,” he quipped.
“Only great healers in here,” came her confident-sounding retort right before Conrad’s fingers began loosening the fasteners of her uniform. Once the fabric was parted, it hung loosely over her pale skin, covering most of it from view but his hand dipped inside to explore.
He cupped the swell of her breast and she trembled slightly. The soldier smiled at the reaction despite the pain in his chest and gently rolled a pink nipple between his fingertips.
Not to be outdone, the young woman climbed on top of the bed, straddling the older man. She threw her shoulders back letting the top of the uniform slip off completely onto the floor.
His hands moved back toward the newly uncovered form, but she grabbed his wrists. “Not until you’re fixed.”
He snorted slightly, ready to argue that such a thing was not possible, but she spoke first. “But you can make yourself useful.” She lowered his hands to her pants and he wasted no time edging the fabric down her ample hips, revealing her thighs and the von Christ family, violet thong. Though he would not be sharing with her how he came to know that was the families’ undergarment color of choice.
She lifted herself up, wiggling slightly to encourage the material to slide down out of her way. With a less than graceful move, the rest of her uniform joined the first part on the floor.
Two fingers slid over the remaining cloth, feeling the heat beneath it.
“I said, not yet.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she remained determined as she quickly removed the last bit of covering that seemed to entertain him so. Next, she pushed his hands down, satisfied when he opted for resting it on her thigh rather than elsewhere.
Returning her hands to his chest, that same warm, green glow emanated around them, seeking the injured flesh and slowly knitting it back together and restoring vitality.
Her eyes closed and she began to rock against him. She could feel long strands of hair falling around her face and she knew if she looked down at the man below she’d see him watching her intently. All the more reason to keep them closed.
Her Maryoku connected them and for once she was under her skin the way he’d be under hers. Her hips rocked faster and she could feel Conrad pushing the covers back. She lifted herself to help him.
What happened next was a blur of skin and movement and magic.
Gisela’s eyes opened slowly as her body buzz seeped away, leaving only a warm glow and the memory of their encounter. Conrad was beside her, still watching intently as if she were somehow very captivating.
A blush crossed her cheeks, but she sat up and managed a dignified, albeit naked composure. “It’s going to be tender for a few days. You should,” she paused realizing the irony, “take it easy.”
“Of course. I’ll take it easy and you’ll remember your limits,” he lied pointedly.
Gisela only nodded as she got off the bed and gathered her previously discarded uniform. She couldn’t have lingered any longer. She had to manage the supplies, check on her patients, and wonder how any of this was actually happening.
Conrad watched her until she disappeared through the flap in the tent and his thoughts slowly turned from one healer to another.
