Light and Weight

By the Queen of Blueberry Toast


He didn't smell like a human- not like a girl, or a very fresh young boy.  
Not like... anything.  But he did have a scent.  And Katou, awake though 
he remained, dreamed he remembered it from somewhere.

It was like... more like a memory than a smell; something no words 
danced upon; something cool, but like the very dawn of spring before a 
single flower has unfurled its petals and the sunshine lost it's wet and 
mellow taste.  Something like... the naked ground would smell like if 
everything and nothing grew there; if the world was but a room whose 
window had been carelessly left open.

Words or not, spring or not, it was that osmyrrah that kept him from 
speaking more than anything like the cracked glass that had settled in his 
heart since the angel first spoke to him.

"You're really not a very good servant," Rociel said, by and by, and he 
turned over in the tangle of his legs so he could catch more sight of him 
than his shadows on the sill. 

Outside, the flushed rain clouds danced over the evening sky, so there was 
no sunset, and likewise, no storm to wash over the twinkling skyline: just 
the golden blue glow shown through the silk which had not wept.  Rociel 
had though.  A lot.  Beside him, however he got there...

"Think about it... no, I'll think for you." One of his finger tips flicked the 
end of his nose... his scent lingered there, like smoke on his skin rather 
than flesh.  "You're not very handsome at all.  Why, if I'm a monster, I 
wouldn't know what to call you.  You're easily shocked... you won't smile 
for me!"

He tried, but his lips went cold and heavy as silver then, and he moaned.

"And you keep DOING that! Are you sick? Humans do get sick, right?"

The image of Katan in the windowpane snapped into focus for a moment, 
nodded, and faded away.

"Not that I expected you to last very long, but still... you could at least try.  
It would make me so happy."

"Nnn..."

Rociel yawned, and rocked to his knees then, stretching as if he had slept 
and straightening the chains of dewdrops gathered in his hair.  

"Nnno.  I... don'... want... to... make... you... happy."

When the angel spoke to him, it was all in quiet intrigue, as with one 
luminary to another, though he had shaken all over an instant, as with 
anger.  Katou tried to turn away.  "You don't? Why not?"

"I..."

"Mmm?"

As if a fit had passed through him then, the whole idea of displeasure left 
him, though snatching after it he ran and ran and ran, tumbling down in 
the nothing world of perfume somewhere else.

"But I bet you can make me happy! You don't just have to be a good 
servent for that.  You really don't." The creature on his lap now purred, 
and the sound of it crept through the inimitable aroma where he had rested 
so many fragments of seconds. 

"Rociel-sama..." Katan's voice, no sign of him in the glass. 

"My servant, not yours." He had shushed him, and tucked his arms around 
Katou, his insubstantial weight swinging down against his thighs. "And I 
want to show him how he can make me happy."

The boy blinked at his master and he parted his lips, though made no 
sound.  The breath of silence only then, and the whisper of the nonspring 
clinging all around his senses, every one... It cascaded over his lips and 
into his mouth, bruised him.  It swallowed his chest with its hands and 
kissed him there too, but it didn't feel like kisses anymore.

"Your heart's pounding."

His clothing fell, piece by piece, ripped off with the buttons clinking on 
the floor.  That about the angel on his lap simply melted away, and the 
dewdrops too, winking out until he had no more glow to him but the sheen 
of his naked flesh.

"Why?"

But he sank away then, to the cold of the unpolished marble... they were 
on a dais somewhere, they were swimming in the middle of a crowd with 
many voices and yet he could only see Katan, a wan smile tugging at his 
lips as he stood there, watching and watching.

"Oh, that's right.  You don't even know yourself, right?"

Rociel fondled his sex with his mouth until it pinked of it's own accord, 
but was still very soft.  He played about his stomach then, pressing harder 
here and there than would have been sensuous, like he didn't know how 
his belly would feel if he himself would lie down on it. And... he didn't 
like it.  Instead he hooked his legs on his shoulders where he could see the 
bruises on his own knees where he had fallen before him the first time.   
The first finger crept up inside him, but the rest shot up against him, 
tugging and squeezing his insides until he was pushed wide open.

Katou took a deep breath and sighed...

"You like it? It's my sister's cologne.  It's what anyone would smell like if 
they had waited under the earth for so long.  It will go away."