FIC: AU "Na Goshi. Part One: the Lotus." (EW/VM, NC-17, noncon).
WARNING: this is not the usual AQ product. noncon. there's no violence or overt complusion, but the implication is that elijah has been kidnapped and is being kept drugged and bound. i swear, it's part of the plot. normal service will resume ... at some point. i hope.

for dracunculus. she suggested this universe as an excuse for happy fluffy boy sex. yeah, look how THAT turned out.





Hong Kong, present day.

The morning is cold and dull, gray mist veiling the red maples in Viggo’s garden. The white-paper paneled screens of the main room have been pushed aside despite the chill, and Viggo stands on the threshold staring out.

He is barefoot; the hems and knees of his blue jeans are ragged. His black cashmere sweater drapes on his lean frame, and his fair brown hair hangs around his face.

“Bring him to me,” he says out of the silence.

Billy, standing behind Viggo, licks his lips nervously.

“I could - ”

“I don’t want you, little fox,” Viggo rasps quietly. “Bring me the boy.”

Billy’s eyes flick closed for just a second, then he ducks his head and moves away.

While Billy’s gone, Viggo slides one of the screen panels closed, though he leaves the other open. He crosses to the large bed with its rumpled white sheets and hard square pillows. He strips his sweater off, tossing it aside; he’s bare-chested underneath. He tips his head from side to side slowly, his face twitching in satisfaction as the bones of his neck crunch more sweetly into place.

“Here he is,” Billy says flatly, ushering someone else through the interior door.

Elijah takes a couple of steps into the room and then stops, frowning as he looks around carefully.

He’s barefoot too, wearing buff-colored cord jeans and a shabby gray sweater. He holds his arms folded across his chest, with his shoulders hunched and his hands tucked into the ends of his sleeves.

His frown deepens as his glance comes to rest on Viggo, who approaches him slowly, one hand idling up and down on the smooth pelt of black hair covering his own belly.

“Elijah,” Viggo says, coming to a stop less than an arm’s reach away.

Elijah’s breath flurries a little, but he doesn’t answer.

“Let me look at you,” Viggo says, taking hold of Elijah’s chin and tipping his face upwards a little.

Elijah’s hair is bed-messy, soft and tufted. His eyelids are faintly violet-pink, making his eyes even bluer by contrast. His mouth is flushed and slightly chapped; his upper lip and jaw are covered in downy hair.

Viggo exhales enough of a smile to uncover his narrow canines.

“Let’s see some more,” he says, catching hold of Elijah’s wrist and pulling his arms out of their defensive arrangement.

Elijah’s expression flickers, but he makes no effort to resist as Viggo bundles the lower edge of his sweater up and then strips it off over Elijah’s head. Elijah’s body curls against the cold, his pale skin shimmering with gooseflesh and his nipples pulling tight. The needle bruises up and down the inside of each of his slender arms look like translucent violet petals.

“Get on the bed,” Viggo says.

Elijah blinks, and then he sways and steps forwards past Viggo. He climbs onto the bed and sits back on his heels. Billy, still in the doorway, makes a tiny pained sound low in his throat.

Viggo turns his head fractionally, his smile sharpening.

“You can stay and watch if you like, little fox.”

Billy hisses in a deep breath, his small curved lips pulling back from his teeth. He shifts.

Viggo follows Elijah to the bed.

“Lie down.”

Elijah obeys, though his face tightens when his already chilled skin contacts the icy sheets.

Viggo crawls onto the bed, straddling Elijah’s legs. Elijah’s narrow chest rises and falls slowly. Viggo leans forward, taking hold of Elijah’s wrists and lifting them in his hands. He thumbs appreciatively over the faint silvery-pink pressure marks encircling each slender bone.

“Billy’s been making sure you behave yourself, I see,” Viggo says. “Good.”

He releases Elijah’s hands, throwing them away from himself so that Elijah’s arms fall above his head. Elijah’s ribcage expands inside his thin white skin, his taut belly hollowing away inside the waist of his cords. Viggo pulls Elijah’s fly buttons open; Elijah lifts his hips to let Viggo strip his cords down and then off him.

He is naked underneath, his cock lying small and soft in the hollow of his left hip, the velvety head hardly a shade pinker than the rest of his skin.

“Maybe we should make Billy have a turn today … when I’m good and done with you,” Viggo says, throwing Elijah’s jeans onto the floor.

Billy’s sharp intake of breath makes Viggo grin and swing his head in that direction but by the time he’s looking, Billy’s already gone.

“Huhn. Well, all the more for me,” Viggo smirks, turning his attention back to Elijah.

Viggo pulls a foil packet of lube out of his back pocket and tosses it onto the bed, then moves back to undo his own jeans and kick them off before returning to Elijah. Viggo’s cock stands rigidly away from his body, the foreskin already pulled taut below the shiny purple head.

“On your side,” Viggo says, though he splays one big hand behind Elijah’s waist and shapes the motion with his touch as much as with his instruction.

Elijah rolls over so that he’s facing away from Viggo, his uppermost thigh draw up with his knee bent, and his arms still thrown above his head.

Viggo tears the lube packet open with his teeth and nudges the open edge between the cheeks of Elijah’s ass. Elijah’s breath catches as Viggo tightens his fingers and cold gel fills the crevice around Elijah’s hole, extinguishing the last scrap of warmth his body possesses.

Viggo sets the half-empty packet aside and hitches his hips in closer behind Elijah. He takes hold of his own cock, using the head to smear the lube around and then pushing until he finds the failure of resistance that marks the entrance to Elijah’s body. Viggo pushes harder, his breath snapping out of his nostrils in frustration when Elijah tips away a little, not refusing but rather yielding too much to the shift of Viggo’s bodyweight. Viggo grips Elijah’s shoulder and pulls him back into place; Elijah’s body splits and Viggo’s cock slides into the tight fluttering heat.

Elijah’s breath comes softly out between parted lips, like a sleeper shifting in a dream.

Viggo takes his bodyweight on one elbow, the other hand moving from Elijah’s shoulder to cover the slight muscular swell of his chest, his pebbled nipple a delicate point of ice in the middle of Viggo’s palm.

Viggo begins to thrust his hips, slowly but emphatically. Elijah’s breath comes out in a short huff at each shove of Viggo’s cock into his body. His eyelids flutter slightly, as if he can’t decide whether to close them or not.

Viggo moves his hand again, palming Elijah’s jaw and turning his head so that Viggo can cover Elijah’s mouth with his own. The angle is awkward, the contact messy. The tendons of Elijah’s neck pull taut, lifting like smooth cables under Viggo’s fingers. Viggo pushes his tongue into Elijah’s mouth, mimicking the ruthless ill-directed jabbing of his cock in Elijah’s ass. Elijah makes a small muffled sound. Viggo lets go of his face, holding him to the kiss by the pressure of his own mouth, and reaches for Elijah’s nipple again, pinching and pulling until he elicits another slightly more deliberate sound.

“That’s right, come on,” Viggo pants, breaking the spit-slippery connection of their mouths. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

Elijah’s cock is thickening a little, the head pulling smooth as it swells. Viggo digs another half-dozen strokes of his cock into Elijah’s hole and then pulls out abruptly. Elijah frowns a little.

Viggo rearranges Elijah on his back, pushing his thighs up and apart, and yanking Elijah’s behind into his lap so that Elijah’s spine is lifted in a tender arch over Viggo’s thighs and knees. This time, when Viggo pushes his cock into Elijah in one swift thrust, Elijah’s eyes flutter wide and his voice catches in his throat.

Viggo leans across Elijah, coincidently driving his cock deep enough to force another shapeless sound from him, and retrieves the lube. He squeezes the rest out onto his palm and tosses the packet away. He reaches out, smothering the top of Elijah’s cock in his hand.

Elijah winces, shivering at the coldness of the gel, yet grateful for the slickness of the contact between his cock and Viggo’s hand. Viggo begins to rock slowly, his cock pushing in and up inside Elijah’s hole, his hand pulling gently on the head of Elijah’s half-hard cock.

Elijah’s fingers twitch.

Viggo gradually increases the depth and speed of his thrusts, the pressure and pace of his touch. Elijah’s breathing develops a rhythm of its own, a countercurrent to the repeated impact of Viggo’s hips against the backs of his thighs.

Elijah pulls at the sheet under his hands.

“Oh,” he says softly.

Viggo grins darkly. The slip between his hand and Elijah’s hardening cock changes character a little, Elijah’s own smearing secretions silkier and smoother than the commercial lubricant.

“That’s good,” Viggo says. “That’s good.”

Elijah’s body begins to tense, arms stretching out over his head, and toes pointing and curling against the sharply cut muscles of Viggo’s upper arms. Elijah moves his head from side to side, his brows gathering together anxiously. He licks over his lips and opens his mouth as if to say something.

Abruptly Viggo stops, pulling out again and spilling Elijah out of his lap.

Elijah makes a wordless noise of entreaty and struggles to sit up.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” Viggo asks.

Elijah stares at him, something flickering behind his crystalline blue eyes.

Viggo lies down, stretching his legs out and wrapping his hand around the thick red shaft of his cock.

Elijah’s eyelids flutter heavily; he crawls on his hands and knees to Viggo, up the length of Viggo’s legs until he’s straddling Viggo’s thighs. Viggo’s eyes narrow, shining dark blue in the cold white brightness of the room.

Elijah’s breath shakes in and out of his open mouth as he takes hold of Viggo’s cock just above Viggo’s own grip, and guides it to his opening. He tips his head back, eyelids flickering faster than moths’ wings as he drives himself slowly downwards onto the rigid shaft.

Viggo hisses out a smile of pleasure.

Elijah lifts his hand to his own mouth, palm cupped discreetly, and spits. He lets his hand drop to his cock, shuddering a little as he begins to work himself in his fist.

“Up and down, too,” Viggo warns, taking hold of Elijah by the hipbones and guiding him.

Elijah tips his chin once in acknowledgement, and his slender white thighs flex as he raises himself a few inches up on Viggo’s cock and then lets himself down again. Elijah’s cock, already hard, swells further. The faintest flush of pink appears across the hairless skin below his collarbones, and in his cheeks. He’s still shivering but no longer goose-bumped.

At first Viggo just lies still under Elijah, but as Elijah’s breathing becomes increasingly harsh and his hand moves more quickly on his cock, Viggo brings his own legs up a little for leverage and starts to thrust himself up to meet each downward movement of Elijah’s body. Elijah’s thighs begin to shake. He can no longer control his weight on Viggo’s cock, and Viggo spikes up into him so that Elijah rocks helplessly under the impact.

Elijah cries out, a harsh guttural sound, and his eyes seem to snap into focus.

“What – No,” he says, somehow stilling though his body is being shaken by Viggo’s thrusts and his hand is still moving quickly on his own cock.

Viggo glances down and sees that Elijah’s balls are drawn up tight against the spread angle of his groin. Viggo lets go of Elijah’s hips and takes hold of his nipples instead, pinching and twisting.

“No – oh,” Elijah gasps, and then it’s too late, his cock twitches in his grip and the thick strings of his come fall over his hand and onto Viggo’s black-furred belly.

Elijah’s breath sobs out as his body unravels. Viggo pushes him off, Elijah groaning as Viggo’s still erect cock pulls free of his clinging flesh. Elijah lies down, his face contorted as if crying, folds one cold-reddened foot under the other, and tucks his hands between his thighs. His body quivers.

Viggo crawls over him, rolling him onto his back.

“What’s the matter?” Viggo goads. “Didn’t that scratch the itch?”

Elijah lets his head fall to the side so that he’s looking Viggo in the face.

“More,” he whispers. “I need more.”

Viggo bites down on his own lip, half pinning his grin of delight into place. He pushes Elijah over onto his stomach and pulls him up onto his hands and knees. Viggo's cock goes in in a sweet slippery rush, and he doesn’t bother to begin slowly but instead catches Elijah by the hips and yanks him back to meet the first savage jab, and then uses the momentum of Elijah’s recoil to yank him back for the next one.

Elijah folds down onto his elbows, fingers scrabbling at the sheets, keening small sounds of desperation. Viggo amuses himself with angles and rhythms, his eyes half hooded as he savors the faint flutterings and tightenings of Elijah’s body around him.

Elijah is whispering to himself, tiny pleadings and prayers. Viggo smiles, flexing his fingers on Elijah’s hipbones hard enough to distract Elijah momentarily from the new crisis building in his already used body.

When Viggo eases his grip again, Elijah moans and stretches his arms out, his hands fisted so hard that his knuckles are bony-white. Viggo feels the tension gathering in Elijah’s body, feels him wringing tight and then falling away again every time he’s forced to empty his lungs.

“Oh God, oh God,” Elijah sobs, his spine bowed until his shoulder blades stand out like wings under his pale skin and his hole spreads open around Viggo’s cock and then there’s a shudder going through Elijah from toes to tail to the top of his head.

Viggo pulls his cock out again. Elijah crumples, shaking and panting. Slowly he curls in on himself.

“More?” Viggo asks.

Elijah doesn’t answer at first. He slowly turns his head. His eyes are wet, and absolutely rational.

“Who are you?” he says, his voice husky. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Viggo’s smile curdles a little.

“I take it that means no, you don’t want any more.”

Viggo gets off the bed and picks up his jeans. He pulls them on, tucking his still rigid cock in and buttoning himself up.

“Billy,” he calls.

Elijah struggles up onto one elbow.

“Please,” he says, his voice a little stronger now. “Let me go. Do you want money? My family would give you money. My mom’s - ”

“I can’t do that,” Viggo cuts in, his eyebrows lifted in amusement. “I can’t let you go, Elijah. That’s not what I do. I don’t let people go.”

Elijah flinches, but he also covers it surprisingly well. He swallows uncomfortably, suddenly aware of the dozens of small points of pain inside his joints and along his bones. His head is beginning to pound.

Billy appears in the doorway, his eyes wide and dull, his small mouth drawn down at the corners.

“Take him away,” Viggo says. “And in future, don’t let him go so long between fixes. He’s practically rational right now.”

Billy nods and steps aside hastily as Viggo moves past him and leaves the room. Billy looks over at Elijah.

“Come on, let’s get yeh cleaned up and some clothes on yeh before yeh freeze,” Billy says, trying and almost succeeding in shaping his lips into a smile of reassurance.

“I hurt,” Elijah says, his voice smaller and shakier.

His head dips, dropping between his hunched shoulders.

“Aye, well. I’ve got the goods for that, too,” Billy sighs.



Part Two: the Narrow Path.