Notes and Disclaimers: The Violinst of Hameln (Haamerun no Baiorin Hiki) is the property of Watanabe Michiaki, Enix, and Pony Canyon. I'm just borrowing them for a little while... sorta like a library. I hope you like the fic, and are inspired to let me know about it!
This is a lightly lemon scented piece. If adult situations don't do it for you, don't read this. If you're not over 18, don't read this. If you feel the need to complain about something, don't read this.
Bolero: 1st Movement
Hameln rolled over, placing Flute beneath him.
She had crept into his blanket when her own proved insufficient against the chilly night. The violinist had been surprised by her actions. There had been other nights, colder than this, when she had remained obstinately across the fire from him, unconsciously taunting him with her nearness.
In the firelight her skin always looked rosy, warm and inviting; her lips, soft and rich. On other nights he had managed to suppress these thoughts, but then, on other nights she wasn’t sharing his bed.
Flute gazed up at him. He was laying full length, on top of her, not moving. She was puzzled by his actions and unsure of what to say. Hameln met her gaze frankly, looking as if he expected her to push him off, or reject him in some fashion she couldn’t fathom. The Princess shyly smiled, trying to elicit a reaction from her friend, but he remained implacable. He just kept watching her face. Flute felt heat rising to her cheeks and she dropped her eyes. Perhaps she had been mistaken?
She drew her hands up and cautiously placed them high on his arms, under cover of his cape. Gently she squeezed, hoping actions would take the place of words, and he accepted her encouragement, pressing himself against her. Flute was surprised, but pleasantly so. Wrapping her arms across his shoulders, the Princess drew the Demon King’s Successor closer. Moving slowly, deliberately, Hameln slid his arms under her shoulders and dropped his head, placing his mouth against her ear.
Closing her eyes, Flute shut out everything but Hameln’s breath on her skin. It was warm in the frigid night air and she shivered pleasantly. Seemingly a lifetime passed in that instant; he was so real, so solid. Not the idealized dreams of the past, but alive and warm. The air under the blanket was perfumed with his scent and Flute squeezed her eyes more tightly closed to keep her mind from reeling. She found herself adrift in the sea of his creation...it was incredible.
Unexpectedly, Flute could feel his knee, gently but insistently, insinuating itself between her legs, forcing them apart. Dragging her awareness back to the bedroll, she glanced up, looking for his eyes, but his head was still pressed against her cheek. Flute closed her eyes, once again blocking out everything but Hameln’s breathing and the silent request he was making.
Hameln was panting as if he were running. He had a notion that he was losing his mind. What was he trying to do here?
Breathing in the moist, rich air, Flute turned her mouth to his ear and exhaled his name, surrendering to him.
In victory, Hameln’s amazement was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Was this truly happening, he wondered? Was he dreaming? Once again he was unable to move, fear of rejection paralyzing him. Could he, would he, stop himself if she pushed him away? What between them would change?
Flute dipped her hands into his hair, lifting it clear of his eyes. She wound her fingers into the blond mass, drawing her fingertips along his scalp until she encountered the horn. Hameln flinched and thought to draw away, knowing she would be repulsed, but her questing caress never hesitated. He longed then to see her eyes, to witness for himself her feelings. Drawing his cheek along hers, he placed the tip of his nose against Flute’s.
For a long time they gazed at each other, seeing so many things for the first time.
Then Hameln saw the thing he so urgently sought.
With this understanding between them, he drew her shoulders down and his hips up. Flute's head fell back, exposing a length of creamy skin and she gasped with pleasure. The sound went through him like a knife.
Hameln repeated the motion, and again, each thrust punctuated by the soft cry of exquisite rapture from the Princess. His breath was becoming more ragged with each second, knowing that, for him, there was no going back. His life would never be the same. Closing his eyes against the thought, he gave himself over to the act.
All around him the sounds of the night faded, so engrossed was he in the feelings the woman he loved was bestowing upon him. She said nothing, asked for nothing, but gave herself freely, willingly, and yes, lovingly.
Flute’s head was still flung back and her neck beckoned to him. Dropping his open mouth onto her flesh, he greedily chewed on the skin that had so long taunted him. Flute tasted more wonderful than anything he had imagined.
"More," she gasped in his ear, panting hard. "Faster, Hameln, faster."
Hameln growled as he lifted himself onto his hands, pressing his throbbing erection against her. Flute threw her arms backward over her head, leaving the only point of contact between them the place where Hameln's hips met her own. The Princess writhed under him, lost to all thought and reason as her gasping breaths became closer together and more urgent. Hameln closed his eyes for an instant, losing himself in the heat and sounds of his lover.
Suddenly Flute arched off the ground, her eyes wide and unseeing, his name on her lips. She screamed for him, again and again. Her hands became claws that tore at him, desperately pulling him closer. Finally she caught hold of him, pulled herself up and savagely bit down on his shoulder.
Hameln came in an explosion of blinding light. He threw his head back, literally howling her name into the inky sky. Flute hadn’t loosened her hold on him and the pain was exquisite. Again and again he gasped, longing for the moment to never end.
Finally Flute relinquished her prey and fell back onto the ground, her chest heaving, and her energy spent. Hameln looked down at her, struggling to catch his breath, and was awed by her presence. Seemingly she misread the look on his face and rose up to inspect his shoulder.
"Did I hurt you?" she whispered amidst her panting, fear evident in her voice.
Hameln was too dumbstruck to answer. It flashed across his mind that she could have chewed it off and he wouldn’t have noticed, but that image alone was enough to cause a soft laugh to escape his lips.
Surprised, Flute looked into his eyes, waiting for an explanation. Hameln chuckled and lowered himself onto her again.
"I think you’re incredible," he panted, kissing her cheek. Flute looked puzzled and wondered aloud again of she had harmed him, but Hameln only laughed. Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled the blankets around them and bade her go to sleep.
<0>
In the morning, Flute awoke to the sounds of Hameln making breakfast. She was in her own bed and could only assume he had carried her there. She watched him for a moment before stretching luxuriously. Flute had decided during the night that if he even tried to pass their evenings activities off as a dream, she would bite him again. But even as this command rose to her lips, Hameln reached for a pan, winced, and grabbed his shoulder. Almost, Flute laughed aloud, but she managed the stamp it down before he noticed.
"Good morning," she called, throwing off her blankets and sitting up. Hameln turned to greet her, a shy smile on his lips.
"I had the most incredible dream last night," she declared brightly, moving closer to the fire and piling more wood onto the glowing embers. A pained look flashed across his face and Flute’s smile grew.
"But it was after you made love to me so it’s not worth recounting," she finished with a giggle.
Hameln’s head snapped up and their eyes met across the fire. Flute blushed and dropped her gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm sincerely hoping it's a recurring dream," she whispered and met his eyes again. Hameln smiled, blushed, and agreed with her.