He Who Made the Lamb A Galerians:Ash Fic by The Queen of Blueberry Toast. Not mine, sadly. I would have made the kissing scene MUCH longer >). ~*~ Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the fortress of the night; What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes! On what wings dare he aspire? What hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand, forged what dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp. Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile and work to see? Did he who made the lamb make thee? Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the fortress of the night; What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? The noise pistol falls from Ash's hand and, the gaping space between him and his fellow child of Dorothy rends open into gushing lavender. The illusion around them begins to crumble, and Rion, snapped off guard, feints at first that he may run, though there is nowhere left to go in the well of cyber-space he's sacrificed himself too. The brightness creeps, kisses itself, growing tender and inviting. And the world, what facsimile of it they were standing in, bleeds into brightness. He and the silver figment stand now in a forest of lavender glass, soft as milk but somewhat cold and dainty. He can feel it snapping under his feet. "What...? What's this!?" Ash shrugs, tosses his hair, "A world. A place I dreamed of when I wanted flesh." "You're a computer. Computer's can't dream!" Silky blood splatters over the glimmering ground as he runs, and Ash's armor turns to satin as he draws near, though hands still will not shatter it. "You sound so sure." From the tangles of crystal overhead, a single arachnid descends, and though composed only of soap bubble shards, its tiptoes leave tiny pressure marks on the fingers it has lit upon. Spider there, and Spider's words, a web of saffron threads about the trunk on which he leans. Rion, in spite of himself, realizes he is not. Far from it. Ash draws nearer. "It came to me, just now, through him. It's not the humans you want." Pirano's hiss chimes in, muted, slick as butter. "They say disgust is only shameful joy. Are you ashamed, Rion? Pretty boy." Stumbling backwards, Rion finds himself caught in a stream of molten amethyst. "For once," Ash tells Pirano with a caress of his tattered bangs, "you're right. I'll be disgusted with you later though." He takes his hand away before it gets to wear bites. "Don't you understand? We are your brothers and sisters. We accept you." "We love you," adds Spider. "Dearly love you," adds Pirano, and he licks the razor leaves of a flower once growing underneath his boot. Ash is nearly upon him, ghostly grey against the radiant and pale purple all around, but solid in spite of this, shining dully. Rion can't seem to speak. He is remembering,: remembering a kiss with no reason and the feel of a tongue with no body to hold it surging against his own. He remembers open eyes in that non-form. He just remembers and tries not to read too much into it. As Ash wills the river to bloom into a cloud of phantasmal pillows, he says, "After all, we exist because you exist." "So we're supposed to belong together?" He snaps, and tries to find his footing in the marshmallow air. The trees murmur with a wind he can not sense, and through them only emptiness echoes. Somewhere. Yes, somewhere in the real world, that's where the heaviness has come from, the nothing. The lips? Or the impression of lips at least as Ash once more claims his mouth? That he can not say, and does not try to. Not anymore. The fit of his own skin to Ash's is eerily perfect, but then again, he expects no less from a computer program based so much on possibility and adaptation. Ash changes, letting what there is of his clothing blink away. His body too is a reflection of Rion's, for his stature has waned, though the almond of his skin waxes. It seems starling against Rion's pallor as Rion watches his arms creep around his waist. Where his own clothes have gone, he doesn't know. "As your anger, sadness and hate, we should have realized it would take more than those things to win you over. To think I nearly ruined myself just to ruin you." The emptiness grows and from it Rion skates on the clouds that still half-way hold him though that brings him deeper into his enemy's arms. What word is enemy? He wonders, and he touches what he should not be able to feel. Ash's body under his hands has the presence of a hundred memories- it makes Rion wonder if he could ever invent the touch of steal, stone, unkind bodies- these things are grow unfamiliar once the embrace has tempted him. Feeling Ash is more than touch alone- he can want it where his bones should be, through his blood and the spit of their next kiss. Ash has no taste. They fall, and he holds the silver boy like a child, though it is all to better nibble at his throat. He hears cheering, the pogrom of footsteps over the glass world and a rush of blood through his groin when Ash's stiffness grinds against him. Dimly, that too seems familiar. That and the weight Ash should not have as it settles beside him. They are both supine, somewhat entangled in each other, especially their legs. Ash is completely hairless but for the wiry floss on his head, and the outlines of his form seem to melt into Rion's as they draw together. "Why... would you do this to me? Haven't you got bigger plans?" "Yes, but the world is old enough to wait for us," Says Ash against the curve of his ear. The tip of his tongue there falls, his hands on Rion's penis, his belly against Rion's belly; so close they breathe each other's breath. "None of this is real, so don't worry. Let's play." He turns over his shoulder, and nods to his two companions where they sit waiting in the translucent grass that has not cut them. The front of Pirano's trousers has grown taught and Spiders hand lies there. Ash clucks his tongue and the younger of the two boys rises, his clothing fading from him before he even begins to walk towards them. "You like him better, right?" Rion just stares. Spider says nothing, but stoops before the thick air where they lie, and kisses the tiny wounds on Rion's toes. To him Ash reaches, his fingers wet with the liquid from Rion's tip, which he offers to Spider. Spider drinks. Rion shudders and his moan must be quieted with a kiss. "He's not shy about this at least. You should see him nibbling Nitro's tits." Vaguely, Rion seems to think he wouldn't mind that, not at all, but so tender is the younger boy's caress upon him, he willingly forgets the question and the strange tableau. The tight slickness of the mouth that holds him is velvety exquisite, not as refracted, as prone to summoning memories as Ash's touch. So wonderful, he tries to pull away, kiss the pepper and fleur de sel of his skin. His lips are welcomed, but the boy urges him away at last, and Ash obliges his nod, taking Rion around the cage of his heart to hold him still as Spider swallows him whole. It's entrancing in its own way, watching him with the faintest dandles of disgust born of the age of Spider's body. But what has been said of disgust remains fresh in his heart. "And my heart," spells the arachnid for its master, "is probably older than yours." As Spider once more slips around him, close enough to nuzzle his pubic hair, he pets his head, and coos to him, though his world evaporate. Ash, with one hand around his own cock, watches, and licks at his lips and the broken blood vessels there. "Your turn," he tells the boy still crouched on the other side of where the river used to be. Rion, so stranded in the crashing, lonely pleasure woven between him and the boy crouched between his legs, doesn't notice Pirano at once, but sans the orange glass before his eye, sans knives and cap and the sense ecstasy has robbed Rion of, he is unrecognizable anyway. And he looks very much like Rion; very much the young, blond vampire he could have been in other ages, for his smile betrays the daggers in his mouth. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He asks, more seducer than murderer though the bloodlust hasn't left him altogether. "Whatever it is, hurry up and do it!" Rions words send all the others into fits of bedroom laughter. Spider's hums gently around him. Ash collapses into the pillows and writhes there a moment before he rises and slaps Pirano for laughing at his own joke. "Someone's impatient." Pirano just revels in his wound before he takes his place on their misty bed, right behind Rion who strains to see him. Rough hands through steady his neck, holding it gently enough not to strangle. Teeth prick his shoulder. "Very impatient," the last boy to join them whispers. "but tell me you want me in you." His kiss tells him, nothing more. He finds his own blood in the mouth he ravages and simpering eyes once he turns away and waits, finds the inside of his cheek is raw with someone else's roughness. As Pirano lifts him to his lap, Ash holds him, murmuring wanton and divine against his skin. Spider seeps away and watches, as entranced by the giddy solemnity of their fucking as they are. Rion kneels before nothing, tries to will himself to relax, closes his eyes. They're all kissing him. And then Pirano's cock has pushed him open. It doesn't pull his insides, doesn't hurt- they're just boys after all, and this fair and amaranthine place is just a dream of the dreamless. Still, Rion's temptation to scream gets the better of him, and he does scream, as loud as he can amid their happy taunting and the thrusts so sweet his knees buckle. They fall, all together, a knot of silken and pretend flesh amid the clouds, Pirano moaning for the tightness of his rosebud, and Spider's mouth once more on him. Ash? Ash drips over whatever there is of Rion to touch, and sometimes Spider strays to him, lapping fair skin and almond skin; fumbling one as he licks the other. Rion keeps forgetting to breathe or choke down the wetness in his mouth he so longs to smooth all over them. He can't think and he doesn't try to think except... The moment she crosses his thoughts in the wandering bliss before his orgasm, Nitro appears. She is beautiful like the vacant space between the stars is beautiful, her hair down, and her breasts bare. Between his legs, Spider squeals with his own pleasure, but takes nothing of it. "We're all here for you, Rion. Fuck the real world." And then as he upside down glosses her mouth with his own. "Fuck me." "Soon," Ash has answered for him, and shuddered nearer to his climax. "He only just decided he loved us." Nitro just nods, and leans down over the boy she holds now. He kisses all the powder softness of her chest, and the rosy nubs of her nipples. When her heart begins to race, he tastes it, feels the pulses in time with his own. So real. So impossibly real. Just like the other bodies that surround him, enter him... Before he rends the last tatters of his resolve and comes, he asks of his brothers and his sister: "Did he who made the lamb make thee?" They all purr to him, "No, no, no. Never in a thousand years." over and over. Mother can not speak or move or cry out anymore, but she, not far from where they lie, watches and some part of her is glad. ~*~ Fin Author's Note: This fic probably owes as much to a faerie tale I once saw filmed as it does to Galerian's Ash. Crushed Violet's fans probably remember the hall in Valdemar's Hyacinth Villa which consists half of stained glass windows, and half of a wall decorated with golden trees hung with crystals. Same inspiration- the forest where the princesses danced in the adaptation of "The Worn Slippers" they used to air on Disney. Wow, that's just... not right ^_~. Fleur de sel (flower of the sea) is an expensive French sea salt.