(m) Conan - little wolf or little hound
(m) Ailill - elf
(f) Laoise - radiant girl
--From BehindTheName(dot)Com (In other words, I'm going to assume they're spot on.)
This is a story I was requested to write on GaiaOnline. I will put up a brief explanation (or as brief as I can get) about some of the topics you might not know. Don't crit. the topic, crit. the quality.
"ahh, well they are somewhat the embodiment of the seasons in many
ways- the sidhe are also known as the old Celtic nature-gods, so one
sidhe might be known by another name as Artemis (goddess of the hunt)
or the god of the sun, etc...
Think of them as a mixture between Elves and less than powerful gods- they're very strong, but not necessarily all-powerful." As told to me by the customer.
If you want a little more detail, here's a wiki link: http : // en . wikipedia . org /wiki/ Sidhe# The_s.: _ abodes _ of _ the _ aes _ s.
Remove spaces as necessary.
Fair Warning!! There be yaoi and sex ahead (slight non-con, too). It's rated M for a reason, children. Do enjoy it, though.
As the leaves danced across the empty streets and the temperature cooled down, it was a silent testament to the changing seasons. The crisp air was nice on his throat and skin after living through the dreaded humidity of summer. No matter how much his friend Laoise tried to force the thought that summer was the best season into his mind, Conan decided that autumn was by far his favorite. The colors and the over-all feeling of it were… for lack of a better word, simply fantastic!
I just don't know why Laoise hates fall so much, Conan thought to himself, casually strolling down the street from his school building. And it was Friday, oh wonderful of days! That meant a nice weekend free of the claustrophobic classrooms. And he had no homework, to top it all off. Unless it's closer to the end of fall, when it's cold, it's really nice! It's like spring, only… not as green.
He stopped walking now; sitting down on the bench he'd paused in front of, he brushed his fingers through his thick, almost dark chocolate colored hair. The bus wasn't due for a few minutes yet, but if she didn't hurry, she'd miss it…
"Conan!" a beautiful voice shrilled, coming from the direction he himself had arrived from. "Why don't you ever wait for me?! I said I would just be a few minutes!" There she is.
Despite the furious expression on her face, and her flushed cheeks from having run the whole way, Laoise looked as stunning as always. A honey-golden waterfall of hair cascaded down her back, and sky-blue eyes glared at him from under curled bangs. She had a lovely figure, as well. Lean, all the right curves in the right places… Conan sometimes found himself staring at her, and yet couldn't bring himself to actually like her the way he knew she did him. It wasn't that simple.
"I'm sure the run didn't hurt you that bad. Besides, I told you I was heading out. You just said 'Sure, I'll catch up in a sec,' and waved your hand at me!" He laughed at her expression. "Well, then don't always stop and talk to your girlfriends!"
"At least I have other friends! You're so shy, except when it comes to me; then you always tease me!" she raged, sitting down next to him on the bench, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff.
Before he could reply, the bus pulled around the corner and opened its doors to them. Laoise stood quickly and stomped up the steps, dropping money into the small box by the driver as she passed. Conan quickly followed suit.
He began again as he sat next to her, but wasn't sure she was listening, staring out the window as she was. "That's not very nice"—she snorted softly—"I can't help that's how I am. That and I'm kind-of short, so people poke fun at me, anyway…" He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. The he turned to her and blinked his doe eyes at her, "But you forgive me, right? I'm sorry…"
She glanced at his from the corner of her eyes, puffing out her cheeks and pursing her lips. "… I suppose so," she mumbled.
He grinned happily. "Thank you!" He sat back in his seat and relaxed, then thought of something he'd wanted to bring up with his friend for awhile now. "You know, I noticed you're… a lot happier when it's summer than any other season." She tensed slightly, as if this was something to be ashamed of. "Not that it's bad or anything! It's just… you really like summer, huh?"
She shrugged indifferently. "Of course. You should, too. Fall is so depressing; all the plants start dying, so it can really dampen your spirits. And Fall is just… to me, it's an over-confident season; always flaunting about, showing off." She made it sound like a person. She must be really into the seasons!
He shook his head at her, "Not dying—hibernating. They come back next spring with new buds for you to fawn over. You just have to wait for them." Suddenly, he got an idea. "Hey, you still have that little green house in your backyard, right?"
"Yeah…" she said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why?"
He smirked slightly, "Well, how about I come over and help you plant some things in there. We can go shopping and find some seeds if you don't have any more. Like, we could plant some irises… you like those, right?" He thought she did, anyway; they used to always be in her green house when he went to visit any other time.
She beamed. "I love them! Would you really, Conan? That would be great!"
He returned the smile. "Sure, I'll be over tomorrow… when do you want me?"
"How about… nine o'clock? Or is that too early?" she asked, holding her fist over her mouth in thought.
"Nine is perfect; I'll walk over and see you around then." The bus lurched to a halt as he said this; oh, it was the regular bus driver. Conan hadn't noticed as he'd boarded. The regular guy knew where both he and Laoise lived, since they rode so much. He stood. "So, I'll so at nine?"
"Yep! Thanks again, Conan. It means a lot to me," she gushed, hugging him tightly. Conan patted her back and she let him go. "Now don't stay up late; if you're late, I'll talk your ear off for the next year!" she threatened lightly.
"You do that, anyway!" he retorted, dodging a swing from her and running off the bus, laughing.
He must have been really tired, because the next thing Conan knew, the sun was filtering in through his window and past his curtains, not high enough to signal he was late, though, thank goodness.
Seeing he still had an hour, he got up and got ready; shower, breakfast, brushing his teeth, etc. It was only a couple blocks from his house to Laoise's, so he could afford a little slack time. That and his parents were both gone on a business trip for the week and wouldn't be back until Monday night.
Deciding that he would probably be getting dirty, he pulled on an old pair of jeans and a red plaid button-up shirt. Looking at the clock again, he had a half hour left. "I'll walk to the park for a bit, then. It's too nice out not to get some fresh air!" He practically skipped out the front door in his excitement. Fall was just too perfect!
The park was empty when he arrived at the gate. He glanced at his wrist watch to make sure the time was later than when he'd left. "Must just be because it's a weekend," he muttered.
He sat down on a near-by swing and pumped his legs, making him swing back and forth. He hadn't actually come to the park for awhile now. He felt out of place, and the fact that he was alone…
A breeze blew by, making him shiver. Wow, the temperature sure dropped fast…
"You're alone? Finally! I never thought I'd catch you without that damn woman at your hip…" He jumped from the swing quickly, spinning around to see who had snuck up on him. His natural shy nature kicked in and he glanced away from the figure.
It was a young man, but a very… gorgeous young man. Conan felt his cheeks blaze at the mere thought of finding another man attractive. His hair was an auburn color, blending in with the fall colors in the background. His eyes were such a deep green that they seemed to be sucking the life out of everything near-by; the plants, the air, Conan himself felt as though he were being consumed by his gaze.
That's when Conan actually realized he was the one being spoken to. "Wh-who are you?" he asked shakily. Why would this young man want him, of all people? Couldn't he find another park to stalk?
The man smiled at him pleasantly, showing off a nice set of pearly white teeth. "I am known by many names… but most are associated with the season we are now in. You, my young friend, may call me Ailill." He bowed slightly. "And yet, even though I have been meaning to speak with you for some time now, I do not yet know your name…"
"C-Conan," he stuttered, inching back slightly. A creeper, he was a creeper!
The young man, Ailill, noticed the movement…
And suddenly, Conan couldn't move at all. His fingers wouldn't twitch, his eyes couldn't widen, and his feet and legs refused to cooperate with the message his frantic mind was sending them. Run run get away hurry run danger run stay away leave run flee run RUN!
"I'm sorry, Conan," Ailill purred at him, sauntering closer to his now-made prey. "I can't have you getting away, now that I have you." He smiled again, and as if he were talking about the weather, went on, "Now that she's away, as well as any other spectators, you're mine for the taking…" He was merely an inch away now, and as he leaned in closer, Conan thought, if he could, he would have fallen over from shock and fear.
The auburn-haired man's lips brushed his own, and his sight went dark.
Conan awoke to the sensation of someone trying to pry open the front of his shirt. He yelped and flinched away from the grasping hands.
"Now, now, my little pup," a voice murmured down to him, lips brushing his ear ever-so-softly. "You can't be comfortable in this…" Springs squeaked, and then Conan noticed two more things that should have registered much sooner; one, they were on a bed; two, his captor was missing his shirt. The young boy wasn't sure which was more important, and couldn't keep his thoughts together, because those hands were still unbuttoning his shirt, and the lips were now tracing his jaw.
How can I… be getting EXCITED over this? He mentally wailed, feeling his body go against what his mind desired. Stop it, please!
His shirt was completely unbuttoned by now, and the other male leaned back to rest on Conan's thighs. The teen recognized the man as Ailill, though he shouldn't have been surprised. His green eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light of the room they were now in.
He breathed in deeply, and then let it out in a long gust of air. "Ah… Fall is definitely the best." He leaned down again and quickly engulfed one of the young boy's nipples, giving a harsh suck.
Conan unwillingly arched into the man's mouth, letting out a low keening sound as the feeling. Why wouldn't his body just listen to him? He didn't want this, but he couldn't move away!
Ailill continued with the same treatment for a moment, and then moved across his chest to pay homage to the other nub. "Don't deny it, pup," he purred, lapping at his chest. "I can tell you're enjoying this. Just accept it."
"N-n…" he couldn't force out the word, groaning ashamedly at the pleasure coursing through him. Finally, though, he pushed it out as forcefully and he could manage. "No."
The attention to his chest paused, and the mouth left him. Conan opened his eyes to find Ailill glaring at him. The same feeling as earlier grabbed him, and again Conan felt drained, couldn't move. Those deep green eyes were now like ice, freezing him to the core with fear.
"Why must you be so stubborn?" he growled, and his eyes literally flashed in his rage.
And, even more astonishingly, there were golden, red, orange leaves fluttering behind the man, and then they came forward and pinned Conan's arms to the bed. They did the same with his legs, leaving him spread eagle in front on the auburn-haired man—or was he even a man?
"Stay put, and enjoy." He gave a mischievous smirk, "I know you will, whether you want to or not." He reached down to remove his prey's pants, and made quick work of them, the leaves seeming to help him. They began on the… whatever he was, his pants, as well.
Stuttering, Conan asked in fear, "W-what are you…?" as the last of the other's clothes were pulled from him, leaving them both bare to each other.
"Not human," he stated the obvious. "I am known as a sidhe."
Finding something that may distract him, Conan went on, "A s-sidhe…?"
"Mm," he hummed affirmatively, running his hands down the boy's sides, causing him to shiver. The sidhe leaned down and on the length of Conan's body, relaxing. "Many think of the sidhe as gods and goddesses, but we're not that… influential. We merely help the Earth to change seasons." He pointed to the leaves on either of Conan's wrists. "I'm sure you can guess which season I am."
He suddenly leaned back again and rubbed against the human's body, showing he was still anticipating the coming activity. "Now, please stop distracting me, little pup," he scolded lightly, his smirk returning. "History lesson is over."
The sidhe glanced to the side and grabbed something off of the bedside table. "I-is that the only reason you're here, then…?"
"What? To take you?" Conan's eyes widened is horror and his cheeks flared. "Oh, you mean the season. Partly, yes, but I also noticed another sidhe here, and how she was always here, never leaving. I decided to investigate." Apparently the item he grabbed was a bottle—lotion is what it looked like. He squeezed it and let some of the pale cream coat his hand, then set it aside to rub his hands together. "You know her; the girl who never leaves your side. How can you stand it? Especially when you say you much prefer me over her."
"Excuse me?!" he immediately demanded, slightly outraged at the statement. He'd never met the man before, and he had no clue as to whom he was referring. What girl did he know that never left him alone?
Ailill blinked, shocked, and stilled his hands. "Autumn," he said simply, "You said it was your favorite." He scrunched up his nose. "Yet you fraternize with her," he spat out the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "I would think someone like you would prefer the cooler temperatures. Summer is so hazy."
At the word 'summer' the puzzle pieces seemed to finally fit together. "You mean… Laoise?" The sidhe sneered at the name, reaching down between them with one hand, but Conan had his eyes on the other's face. "She's… l-like you?"
"Ha!" he snorted. "'Like me', you say? Hardly. Summer may come just before Fall, but that means nothing. We're nothing alike." He grasped Conan's chin with his free hand—gently, but still firm—and brought their faces together quickly. "I'll make you forget her within minutes. She's not worthy of you, Conan." His name sounded strange on the other's lips. "I won't let her have you." With that, he pressed his lips to the boy's, and at the same moment, something pressed against the opening between his legs.
A howl of pain would have broken past him if his lips were free. Instead a loud groan was swallowed by the sidhe's mouth, his tongue smothering the sound, and Conan fought to jerk his arms free. Oh, god, it hurt! What the Hell was he doing to him?!
Moments passed like this, and he was beginning to feel light-headed, the pain and lack of air taking their toll. His arms were still futilely pulling on their restraints, only weakly, now. Ailill released his mouth, but now only harsh pants came forth. "Relax, love," Ailill whispered, still pressing at him. "Being tense makes it worse. Relax." His free hand trailed down the other's chest as he returned his lips to their task, gentler this time, caressing. The hand continued to go lower and lower…
Conan gasped involuntarily when it wrapped around him, making the pain fade from the forefront of his mind. He could still feel a finger down there, gently running around the edge and pressing in as slowly as possible, but now it was secondary. His hips tried to move forward into the touch, moaning when he couldn't because of the binds.
And yet, his mind was still hollering at his hormones: NO! This is wrong, wrong, wrong! Fight back, try! You don't even KNOW this… this man!
Don't care, the hormones threw back, pressing his body with more of the partly unwanted pleasure. Shut up and deal with it.
He did finally relax, and soon after, another finger was added. The process started almost all over again, save for this time he was slightly prepared. Ailill continued to distract him other ways; with his hands, lips, his own growing need moving against the teen's rapidly growing one. The pressure was almost painful, but the sidhe above him refused to let him have release.
No matter how much his mind protested against it, it felt… wonderful. Despite the pain, he could feel this way all the time.
The fingers were removed from his entrance, and Conan whined at the loss, eyes clenched shut. Ailill chuckled above him.
"Have patience," he murmured, releasing him with his hand as well. "The best has yet to come."
Before comprehension over his words could set in, Conan felt another prodding; only this one was much bigger. A hand clapped over his mouth just as he was about to scream.
"After all of that, you're still…" the sidhe huffed, restraining himself. Virgin, he reminded himself, he's still a virgin. And now he's mine… "Try to relax, Conan," he got out, a groan of his own let loose as he pressed further.
'The best', he says? HOW?! This is worse! Now his body wasn't disagreeing as much with his mind. It felt like he was being ripped in half! Tears leaked out from under closed eyelids.
"I'm sorry," he whispered down at the pained boy, kissing the tears away. "It won't last much longer, I promise. Just try to relax as much as you can."
Easy for you to say! His mind shouted, but his body did try to relax, and gradually, Ailill eased in until he was seated to the hilt. They were still as Conan tried to adjust.
He pried his eyes open very slowly, and the look on the sidhe's face confused him. He looked worried, even with the hint of lust still in his eyes, though not as dominant as before. Taking a deep breath, Conan moved slightly against the other. Both of them moaned softly.
"Slow," Ailill mumbled, presumably to himself, as he gently rocked his hips forward. The pace was set, and finally Conan eased into it, his mind now a soft whisper that he could easily ignore.
Ailill sped up, and Conan grasped onto his shoulders tightly. When had his hands been freed? Not so slow now, huh? His mind mocked him, rubbing in his face that there would still be pain. So much for a whisper.
Ailill pressed down harder on him, crushing his legs into his chest, and sped up even more. Each thrust rammed into him and made his spine creak in protest. He gasped in pain, but the sidhe continued pounding into him
Stop, he mentally pleaded, unable to draw breath to plead with the other aloud. Hands pressed down on his shoulders, and his own hands attempted to push the other away. In comparison, he was pathetic in his efforts. The other wouldn't budge, and slammed into him even harder. This hurts!
The sidhe noticed none of this, plowing forward. How he'd longed to join with the being beneath him, and now he had. It was incredible. As if he'd just remembered, he reached down between them and grasped the other's length, not noticing it had lost its former size. He pumped in time with his thrusts, and despite the pain he was still inflicting, it again became turgid.
After what seemed like hours, Conan felt something burst within him, even with his entrance throbbing and his back aching. His eyes flew wide, but all he could see was white with random bursts of color.
"I won't let you go…" a voice called to him, and it was the last thing he heard before all went black.
The next time Conan awoke, he felt extremely sore. But, no one was trying to rip off his clothes.
Huh? He thought dimly, reaching a hand to press against his chest. When did my clothes get back on?
Then he heard voices. Weakly, he turned his head and saw two figures. One immediately registered as Ailill. His arms were outstretched and his back was facing him. The other figure was slightly shorter, but probably taller than Conan himself. Bright golden plaits of hair… flashing blue eyes…
"Laoise…?" he croaked, eyes half mast as the figures turned to face him.
"Conan!" she cried, looking ready to run to his side, but Ailill stopped her. A growl left his throat. "Are you all right? Did this creep hurt you?"
Conan thought about that for a moment. He honestly couldn't remember much right now, and all he felt was achy. "I don' think so…" he slurred, trying to sit up.
"Lie down and rest," Ailill said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. Conan didn't protest and put his head back down. Fingers began combing through his hair in a relaxing gesture. "Now, you can leave," Ailill continued to Laoise, his voice harsh.
She sniffed. "Not without Conan."
"I have staked my claim—he is mine, now," Ailill rumbled, settling down into a crouch in front of the bed. "You're not quite up to par right now," he went on, "so you may as well give up."
"I won't let you take him!" she yelled. "You forced him, didn't you?! He is only a child!"
"'M not," Conan protested quietly. "I'm… only a year younger an' you."
"Don't you remember, pup?" Ailill asked him softly. "She's a sidhe—much older than you are. It's merely a ruse she uses so she can be close to you."
"It doesn't matter!" she interrupted, stamping her foot childishly. "I've been near him for much longer than you, Fall—"
"And you had yet to claim him, Summer. It's your own fault for not acting sooner." He raised his other hand in front of him. "Now, be gone, or I will not spare you. They can easily find another to take your place."
"I won't!" The sound of feet running across the floor made Conan snap to attention, but he still couldn't sit up.
He could, however, see Ailill pinning Laoise to the floor, one hand outstretched in front of her face, a red-orange glow around his form.
"Close your eyes," he told Conan, the glow moving to engulf his friend lying helpless on the floor.
And he could do nothing but look away.