Subconscious

[electrumicity.livejournal.com]

Title: Subconscious
Fandom: apurgatorium, Gundam 00
Pairing: Lyle/Allelujah, sort of?
Rating: NC-17
Notes: lololo lyle, this is why you lock the door



This was entirely all Allelujah's fault.

Lyle had always been sure that he himself was quite perfectly straight. Yes, he loved the ladies. Sure, there'd been...some slight experimentation back in the all-boys boarding school he'd been in when he was younger, but it was nothing but that. Experimentation. Something that didn't matter, because he'd only thought of women since, only been with women since. Unfortunately, that did nothing to explain why he was laying in his bed in the early morning, having only just woke up, hand absentmindedly rubbing through his underwear at the erection he had woken up with.

This was, annoyingly enough, not the first time he'd had a dream like this. It usually started simple enough. Always a woman. No one in particular, he could never make out the face, just a woman with a gorgeous body. And then it started to shift, and the body would become a lot less feminine and a lot more masculine, the pale skin would grow darker, the hair would become shorter and a dark shade of green, and then he could finally see the facial features come into place, a single grey eye staring at him—

It seemed to haunt him every few days at this point, and was driving him all but insane, having gotten to the point where he could barely look at Allelujah in the mornings after the dreams. They made no sense to him; why would he even dream of such a thing? He had no interest in men, especially not one that was his brother's fiancé. Allelujah was just a close friend. But at the same time, he kept noticing little things about him more and more. The gentleness of his face, the softness of his skin if he accidentally ended up brushing against him, the look of his lips, the way his tongue looked when it unconsciously darted out to moisten said lips...

This was not fair at all, he grumbled as he became more conscious of what he was now doing to himself. Now not only was he dreaming and thinking about this, but he was actually touching himself because of it. He could have just taken a cold shower and gotten rid of the problem like that, but his body was craving something else, and he was helpless to stop it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he tried to clear his mind, maybe think of one of his ex-girlfriends, maybe the one with breasts that rivaled Sumeragi. Lyle lifted his hips a bit in order to scoot down his boxer-briefs to his thighs, hissing a little as he wrapped his hand around hardened flesh. He tried to keep the image of that woman in his mind as he began to stroke himself at a steady pace. It only worked for so long, though, and his thoughts were beginning to mirror his dreams again. Green hair, tan skin, gentle face, grey eye--damnit.

He tried to stop, tried to tell himself that he should just take that cold shower after all, but his hand kept moving contrary to his wishes. Both his mind and body were working against him, it seemed, and he felt himself groan half out of pleasure and half out of annoyance. Fine. If it was going to be like this, then fine, he'd deal with a bit of shame. Maybe doing this would make the thoughts and dreams go away. He gave up fighting the thoughts, just letting his mind go wherever it wanted for now. As he continued to work at himself, his thoughts wandered to a very nude Allelujah using his hand to do to Lyle exactly what he was now doing to himself, lips moving from kissing him on the mouth, down to lower on his body, down his neck, chest, lower and lower. He imagined those full lips wrapping themselves around him, his erection sinking into the moist heat of Allelujah's mouth. Lyle bit back a moan, seeing in his mind's eye the younger man's head bobbing on him with the skill he assumed he must have had by now.

And then the image shifted again a little, Allelujah pulling away from him and moving to straddle him. Before Lyle could figure out what was going on, Allelujah had taken him in hand, positioned himself, and proceeded to push himself down onto him. Lyle's hand tightened on himself as he could feel that tight heat, and as he imagined the green-haired Meister riding him enthusiastically, his own hips were thrusting up into his hand. His thumb slid across the top of his length, smearing the bit of moisture gathered there, as his other free hand moved alone his stomach and up to his chest, fingers eventually toying with his own nipples somewhat.

He murmured Allelujah's name every so often as he jerked at himself harder, picking up the pace, hips moving almost furiously into his hand as he kept thinking of Allelujah plunging himself down onto him. The bed was squeaking at this point but he didn't even notice, didn't even care, so wrapped up in his fantasy. With everything as it was, it didn't take him long before the heat and pleasure became too much for him to bear.

"Allelujah...!"

Lyle didn't notice himself crying out the younger man's name much louder than he would have ever intended to, his body tensing as he came, warm fluid splattering across his abdomen and chest. It was much more than he would have expected it to be (even though he hadn't gotten to do this to himself in some time, having a roommate and all), and he continued to stroke himself until all of it was out, squeezing out the last few drops. Even then, his hand still lazily, slowly moved along sensitive skin as he caught his breath, his mind starting to come down from the utter blankness it had just experienced and fading to a foggy haze.

Unfortunately, because he was Lyle Dylandy, there was a little thing that constantly applied to him: Murphy's Law. Before he could properly think again and before the shame of touching himself to thoughts of Allelujah could set in, the door suddenly opened—apparently he had neglected to realize that it hadn't been locked—and standing there, looking worried, was none other than the man who he had just been jerking off to.

"I heard you call my name, is something...wrong..." Allelujah trailed off as his eyes took in the sight of Lyle laying on the bed, legs spread with his hand still on himself, a complete mess on his torso. Said eyes widened in shock, a deep blush quickly spreading across his face. "Oh god I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—I'm---I'm sorry, I'll—I—breakfast is ready when you're done," he said in a rush before spinning around, slamming the door closed behind him.

Lyle merely stared at the door as he heard footsteps quickly fading off.

This was entirely all Allelujah's fault, and he was definitely going to make a trip to the clock tower later. Maybe Citrine had the right idea.