Note: All Suikoden elements belong to Konami.

Special Note: Again, this is the edited version of Chapter 2…the actual, NC-17 version can be found at adultfan. nexcess. net/aff (remove the spaces!) The entire lemon has been taken out for this copy.

Ruby and Azure

Chapter 2: Contradiction

by ArchFaith

Someone was kissing him.

Was it a dream? Were these cool lips that kissed him so smoothly—these soft hands that now reached up to caress his face—the gentle wisps of hair that lightly touched his forehead—was it only in his imaginings?

He did not wish to open his eyes, lest his premonition turn correct—the feelings would disappear, and he would be thrust out into the cold, angry world once again, with no gentle touch to steady him in the darkness.

But a slight emotion inside told him to open his eyes, to see what exactly was taking place outside the closed lids; to see what sort of opportunity lay before him.

Gently he brought up the shades of his visual window, straining to see in the darkness; even as he struggled, he still felt the gentle pressure of supple lips on his own, the quiet hunger that pervaded this kiss. What…who was this…?

He was only slightly surprised to see his companion's pale skin and silvery hair pressed up against his face in the dim light. She noticed his eyes were half-open, their glazed pupils slowly focusing on her as continued to devour his mouth. Gently she eased away—little by little she applied less pressure, until finally her lips parted from his. He fought back the deep urge to pull her back again, to savor the feel of her soft mouth on his own.

She lightly pulled away, her red eyes resting on his now-opened eyelids. So, he had woken after all. It was what she wanted—and at the same time, what she didn't want. What was she to say to him now, anyway? Surely he would ask why…and surely she would have to answer him.

He stared back at her—her steady red gaze, the slight quivering of her mouth, the slow rise and fall of her chest. So, he had been right after all. Something had happened this night. Of course he was a little surprised—he would never be able to tell exactly when Sierra was in one of those moods—but, on the inside, he felt good. So her feelings did extend to that realm—he had previously thought they stopped short.

"You're good at kissing, old girl," he whispered, smiling as he tentatively stretched out his fingers. Delicately he laid them against her faintly warmed cheek; she sighed and momentarily closed her eyes as his skin met hers.

"Of course I am. Eight hundred years worth of life amounts to something on this world, does it not?" she murmured back, her voice only half-incensed as he stroked her face.

He continued to smile playfully. "Well, now I see it does," he answered, his fingers moving from her face to the strands of hair that lay on her shoulder. "Well…was there any particular reason…?"

So he asked, at least. She sighed; she had not prepared any sort of explanation for this type of position. "Well, as it was, when I awoke your face was very close to mine on the pillow; and I decided to see if perhaps, they felt the same as when I kissed you before—that night after we defeated Rean…"

He nodded, only half-believing. For once in her long lifetime, the great Sierra had been rendered speechless. It was a truly historical moment.

She could feel his disbelief. "Alright, alright," she began, a scowl forming on her face once again. "Perhaps that is not the full reason. Perhaps…I do not know. I just wished to."

He blinked as she continued to stare into his eyes. "I see," he answered. His fingers had slowly withdrawn from her hair and his hand was now resting by his side. "Well, not all actions have clear reasons."

She nodded, slowly feeling her own face turn to a light shade of pink. This was not good; vampires did not blush often because it required a great amount of blood to rush to their faces at once. And on the rare occasions when they did—it was a truly discomforting thing they had witnessed. "Yes, for once you are right," she said, her voice faltering a little.

"Then…would you mind if I kissed you again?" he suddenly asked, his inflection sounding with an almost unperceivable hint of urgency. Nervous as he was—for Sierra was not a woman to be toyed with—it was just too good a prospect to let go. A chance like this might not come again for a long time.

Her eyebrows arched; her eyes opened wide as she maintained her steady gaze upon him. It wouldn't hurt, she thought simply as she imagined the feel of his lips on hers once again. It might even be fun. But not more than that. Just a kiss.

"I would not mind," she answered, letting her head back sink onto the pillow.

Slowly he lowered his head, quivering lips hovering over her own as he calmly pressed his mouth to hers. Ah…this was even better than before. Now they were both fully responding; they were both fully aware of what they were doing, and who they were doing it with. And they wanted it. Wanted it and needed it.

The primal rush had been awoken.

The soft, light gestures rapidly evolved into forceful, almost violent motions as they continued to kiss, their tongues now brushing against each other as they explored the insides of the other's mouth. His hands shot up to her squeeze her shoulders once more; she found her hands involuntarily snaking up his neck. Slowly his hands began making their way down the length of her body, down her hips, her waist, her thighs; she found herself pressed up against the hard muscles of his chest, and momentarily threw back her head, in obvious pleasure.

Just a kiss…

"H-hold on a minute," she gasped, quickly batting his hands off her thigh, and setting her hiked-up skirt back into place. "Before anything happens, now…"

He cocked his head. Ah. Once they had stopped playing around, the full extent of what they were about to do suddenly became clear to him. He felt the horrible blush rising to his face once again, and did his best to try and calm it down. "If this isn't what you want, then…"

She sighed. "No. No, it's not that. Of course it is." The words had just slipped out. She hadn't meant to phrase it so…bluntly. But she had no time to disguise it. And so she must continue. "I would just like to have a moment to think, that is all." Her eyes, which had been lowered before, now rose to meet his. "You are…a virgin?"

The crimson glow on his face, which had temporarily decreased, now deepened once again. "No," he answered simply. "I'm not a complete novice, you know…"

She nodded. "Yes, I figured as much." She blinked neutrally. "Nor am I."

He looked to her quizzically. "You told me you were back when we were visiting at Rean's mansion…? What about the 'virgin's intuition' you were talking about?"

A thin smile formed upon her lips, the first he had seen her wear in a long time. "Alright, that was a small lie," she admitted, slowly sitting up to pull her knees against her chest.

He smiled back, and propped himself on his arms as he too sat up, legs crossed. "I knew from the start anyway. Eight hundred years with a body like yours…who would be?"

They laughed together, the first time in their tempestuous relationship when they had been able to feel a moment of genuine amusement with the other. The faint smile was still upon her lips as he slowly edged closer to her, their hips touching as he turned to face her. "To tell you the truth…heh, you've probably already realized…this is embarrassing to admit…but I'm—"

"—nervous?" she answered. "Well, that was obvious. You were nervous from the first time I pointed out that there was only one bed."

"Haha," he answered, scratching his head. "You nailed it. But that's just one thing. There's another."

"Oh?" she asked, suddenly interesting. "And what would that be?"

His firm eyes locked onto hers, blonde strands partially obscuring his vision. "That you're a lot less irritable…and a lot more understanding…when we're about to make love."

The last sentence caught her off guard. Yes, yes…that was inevitably what they were going to do. How else could this conversation end? With them going back to sleep, forgetting anything had ever happened, waking up the next morning to argue and fight once more?

No.

She absently twirled a strand of her own hair between her fingers. "You assume I will agree to that, do you?" she answered, some of the old callousness returning.

He smiled gently. Even if she did try to seem indifferent and bored…she was consenting. "Well, do you?"

She stared into his eyes, her presence at once captivating and nerve-wracking as she leaned back onto the bed, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him.

God. That smirk once again. Even though he knew she was only teasing, his blood almost boiled as leaned down close, letting his lips brush against her own as he placed his hands on her arms. The ancient emotions had been stirred up once again; the stage was set.

-

The course of the night was difficult for them to plot afterwards—all they knew, all they remembered was the warm feeling of the other's body, the aching pleasure received and given—the secure glow that radiated afterwards, when he felt her wispy strands against his face, her soft lips absently resting on his cheek…

…his hand squeezing her shoulder…

-

She cracked open a ruby eye.

The sunlight nearly blinded her. Who had opened the windows? The curtains were neatly pulled back—what carelessness!

Eyes still glazed from sleep, she groped around the bed, expecting to find Nash sleeping peacefully next to her; she would shake him and tell him to shut the damn window…

Mmmm, but he wasn't there. The sheets felt unbearably cold as her fingers danced over their surface. Sighing, she rubbed the sand out of her eyes and stretched. The ruby pupils grew smaller as she quickly scanned the small room. Still the same—table, chairs, bed…his green cloak and undervest still lay draped over one chair. Yet Nash himself was nowhere to be seen.

Where the devil was he? They could have departed hours ago; judging from the strong sunlight it was already mid-morning…

She sat up and pulled the blanket up to cover her nude body. The vivid memory of the night before still lingered in her mind as she slipped over the side of the bed and rapidly located her discarded skirt and blouse, which lay in a heap on the floor. Damned fool; he hadn't even thought to fold them up for her…

She slipped on her skirt, and finished buttoning the closures on her blouse when the door to the room quietly creaked open. The blonde Harmonian appeared in the doorway, donning his familiar leggings and tunic—items that, the previous night, had been so willingly shed…she threw the thought out of her head as he entered the room.

He immediately noticed her and, frowning, shut the door behind him. In one hand he carried a scarred white pitcher—no doubt containing cold water. The very thing that he had promised to retrieve for her the night before.

"Morning, old girl," he greeted, attempting to smile. He raked his free hand through his hair and set the pitcher down on the side table, next to the large bowl. "I went down early to get you some water…thought you might want to wash up."

She raised her eyebrows as the red blush began to appear on his cheeks. Of all times to be embarrassed! He tried to laugh it off. "Had a good sleep?"

She blinked. "As good a sleep as might have been expected," she replied neutrally, going over to the pitcher and pouring the water into the bowl.

He watched as the clear liquid splashed down into the basin. "Well, that's good."

She dipped her hands into the water and splashed it over her face—ah, her face. Something was different about her skin today—perhaps it was just the sunlight reflecting on it, but it seemed more natural, more human-like today. Instead of her usual ghostly tint, her skin appeared to radiate a healthy pink hue. She could almost pass for a young mortal girl.

She noticed his questioning glance. "What are you staring at?"

"Your skin..."

"Hm? What do you mean?" she crossed the room to look at the small cracked mirror that hung against the wall. Her eyebrows flew up at she gazed upon her visage in the glass. She looked…alive. Her face, hands, probably even her legs—all now displayed a pinkish trace.

"Curious," she murmured as Nash continued to watch, his hands on his hips as she turned away from the mirror. "Well…it is nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose." She returned to the bowl and once again dipped her hands in it. "My skin was probably the same color as we made love last night…"

She froze. My skin was probably the same color as we made love last night…! What in the world had she just said! The phrase had slipped out—it was not deliberate! Ah, beloved awkwardness—her only comfort was the fact they could not have possibly continued on without it.

He noted her slip of the tongue, and her immediate reaction. Should he ignore it? Perhaps they could on like nothing ever happened—they could leave this place and pretend they were just restless, arguing traveling companions, just as before. Yet, at the same time, he knew they could not.

She was silently drying her hands on a length of fabric when he spoke. "Sierra…listen. About last night…"

The words died on the wind. He did not know what to tell her; she wasn't even facing him. A sigh escaped his lips; what strange things love wrought in the wake of pleasure.

She turned to glance at him. Oh, there was no use acting like she usually did anymore! She didn't feel like calling him names or putting him down; she didn't feel like ordering him around or telling him how weak he was. No matter how she tried to put the events out of her mind, they remained. She could not pretend that nothing had happened; the atmosphere was too charged.

He eagerly awaited her words. What "wisdom" would she impart? The fact that she had forgotten all that happened between them? The fact that she had only been using him—that she felt no emotion whatsoever towards him?

"It is awkward for me to say this," she began. "But know, Nash Latkje…that everything I did last night…I meant." She sighed as he gently grasped her hands between his, massaging her palm with his fingers as she continued. "Very well, then. I will admit it—I have a certain fondness for you, boy. And I decided to act upon it last night because—well, it was the perfect opportunity to test your affection." She lowered her gaze. "There is no simple way to say this, is there?"

He shook his head. "You're doing a good job, old girl. Don't think I could have done better." He gave her a soft smile. "You and I are both fools."

"Yes," she agreed, laying her head on his shoulder. "We are." He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her; it seemed a long while they stayed in that position, eyes closed, his hands smoothing her silver hair.

Finally he spoke. "Would it be fair to call us lovers, Sierra?"

It was a short while before she responded. "Yes; yes, I think so," she answered, opening her eyes. "But don't think for a second that I'm going to allow your moronic attitude to slip past me now."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, then maybe you should speed it up."

She immediately pushed him away. "Oh for heavens sake! Hurry up and get dressed! We should have set out hours ago!"

"Well, we would have if you hadn't slept in so late, you old hag! Oh, but I guess I was just too much for you to handle, huh?"

She gave him a wicked little smile. "Just wait and see, boy. You'll be so exhausted tomorrow you won't be able to move."

He smirked. "I guess that's because I'll be dead."

-

The door closed. The blankets lay strewn on the mattress; the chairs were pulled out; and there was still some water left in the old white bowl. The curtains were neatly pulled back, and the sweet sunshine filtered in through the open pane.

Just an ordinary room.

The End

Note: And here we are, at the end of another Nash/Sierra fic. Hope you all liked it! Anyways, please tell me what you thought of it!