Cloths of Heaven
(i)
Ran bathed silently and carefully, making sure to use the calla oil that Crawford liked the smell of. He dressed in a loose flowing and slightly transparent robe that Lady Redgrove had given him. His hair had, in the intervening years, grown down to his knees and he normally wore it in a tight braid but tonight he wore it down making sure that his bangs covered his velvet eyes because otherwise Crawford might notice.
With a deep breath he hung the golden pendant that symbolised his marriage from his ear. Then he raised his head and faked a smile, he would do his duty by Inabayama because, after all, he was a Fujimiya and they lived and died by their duty.
Crawford looked up from his reports when Ran came in and offered him a smile. “You're here early,” he said.
Ran's voice had broken into a rich deep baritone, and if Crawford missing the boyish soprano he never said. “I wanted to,” Ran said moving across, “I wanted this.” He said and sighed. “I was lonely without you.” He made himself sound almost lost and forlorn, “I was bored and I'd rather spend my time with you.”
If Crawford questioned it he didn't say, instead he opened his arms to his bride and offering a small smile Ran took the invitation and sat on Crawford's knee as he once had when he was smaller, he was no longer such a snug fit. “That colour looks amazing on you,” Crawford said fingering the rich green chiffon and lace, “it makes your skin pearlescent and your hair shine.” He ran his fingers through the hair about Ran's face, “you must be feeling lonely if you're wearing this down.”
“I had a bad dream,” Ran said, “and then I read some books that Lady Redgrove sent me, and I didn't want to be alone anymore. I bathed to while away the time but I couldn't wait any longer.”
Crawford kissed Ran's neck underneath the earring before tugging the pendant between his teeth, he knew what kind of books the Lady Redgrove sent Ran, and he was torn between arranging some form of painful death for her and shaking her firmly by the hand.
Ran smelt sweetly of orchids and soap, it was addictive and Crawford couldn't help but kiss the skin. The calla oil was another of the Lady Redgrove's gifts and it made Ran's skin as soft as velvet. What never failed to amaze Crawford was that Ran had struck up an incredibly unlikely friendship with the woman who was as different from him as could be, she was a known sybarite with a harem of young boys almost dying to please her, and Ran was a naïf, but she had never, in any way, attempted to be anything other than his friend.
Ran's fingertips were chilly against his warm neck; rubbing against a half-day's stubble with a strange fascination. He seemed to love the feel of it, but he was cold despite the spring weather. “I want you,” Ran said, “please.”
So, Crawford thought to himself, there were things he had learnt from Lady Redgrove.
Crawford nodded, then picked Ran up as easily as he had when they first met and carried him through the double doors to his bedroom where he laid the boy, no he was a man now but still as lovely, down. The bedding was white and Ran's dark green robe and long red hair looked lovely spread out on it and the pallor of his skin made his eyes darkly luminous.
“Love me,” Ran murmured, “please, just love me.” So Crawford did.
When he lowered his mouth to Ran's neck, usually something that made him squirm Ran pushed him away, “let me,” he said and then with an uncharacteristic show of force flipped them over so that he was straddling Crawford's hips, then with gentle touches that seemed uniquely his own Ran began to undress him.
If Crawford suspected that there was anything other than passion to this encounter Ran's mouth convinced him otherwise. Ran was more determined than Crawford had ever seen him, suckling on his Adams apple and his hands stroking his sides as he squirmed and wriggled against Crawford's growing erection in a way that made Crawford want to flip over and take control back, but Ran obviously wanted this.
Ran's hands were warming against his skin, pushing up against his ribcage in a way that was innocently sexy, then one of the hands was pressing against his nipples with soft touches as the other undid his shirt. “I want this,” Ran said running the tip of his tongue around the shell of Crawford's ear. “Just let me.” So Crawford did.
His hands were deft and true, and his mouth was madness, “close your eyes,” Ran told him.
“I like to watch,” Crawford said, “because you're so beautiful.” For an instant a frown formed on Ran's face but then melted away again, so that Crawford was convinced he had made a mistake.
“Please,” Ran said, “I can't do this if you're looking at me.”
It wasn't like Ran to beg so Crawford closed his eyes. It should have served as a warning, but it didn't. Crawford just gave himself over to the man's hands and mouth. Ran was, at eighteen, a towering beauty but still as shy and naive as he had been that first time. He would touch to see if the touch was receptive and then touch again when he found that it was.
Because his eyes were closed Crawford couldn't see that Ran was crying. When the wetness fell on his skin he just assumed it was Ran's mouth.
Ran was making arcane designs, tracing alchemic symbols over his skin. There was not an inch of Crawford he left untouched. He said nothing but used his tongue and his teeth to say what he wanted to say until Crawford didn't care any more.
He rubbed oil over his stomach and ran his nails through the thin line of hair there' he pressed his face, catlike, into the curls on his chest taking a deep breath of Crawford's masculine scent, and when he took Crawford into his mouth it was with a sound that was almost a sob.
Crawford assumed he had gagged a little and did his very best not to thrust into the inviting heat. When he came he saw stars.
Yet when Ran guided him into the heat of his body he turned them so Crawford was over him. He had always preferred it like that, with Crawford pressing him into the mattress, but his kisses were more demanding than usual, “more,” he whispered in Crawford's ear, “more.” So Crawford obliged him. Again and again and again.
When Crawford awoke Ran was gone. He stretched out languorously across the bed thinking that Ran must have gone to bathe; they had been quite rampant that night and Crawford smiled to himself in memory. It wasn't like Ran to be so needy, but he had enjoyed it and his limbs were heavy with satiation, in fact, he thought turning over and smelling the heavy sex smell in the sheets, he might just go back to sleep.
It wasn't until late that evening when Yohji asked him when Ran would be set free from their little love nest that Crawford realised that there might be a problem. The citadel was searched but no sign of him was found.
The next day a boy came forward out of the city and handed Crawford a carefully folded note and a single pendant earring. The note simply read “don't try to find me, I must do my duty for Inabayama, I am no longer your Ran, I am a Fujimiya and we do our duty.”
Crawford tore the city apart looking for him but again no sign was found, he checked with the gatekeepers who diligently kept a record of anyone who passed and none of the records gave the name Ran, but a ferryman across the lake spoke of a beautiful boy with skin like porcelain though his hair was short, he had given his name as Aya but his destination, when asked out of a sense of curiosity, he had simply answered coldly, home.
(ii)
“How did you think he was going to react?” Schuldig snarled Crawford, “you lied to him, you betrayed him, he found out from a cheap novel.” They had found the novel later, open to that page and placed face down on the table. It had described the fall of Inabayama in terms the author hadn't needed to embellish. Crawford had sent out his best huntsmen but was now waiting for their return.
“Maybe he's just checking it's true.” Yohji suggested, “Those books have been wrong before.”
“The Lady Redgrove did this.” Crawford snarled, wanting terribly to take his rage out on anyone. “He's all alone, defenceless what can he do.”
Yohji tilted a golden eyebrow, “he's not defenceless, he's a trained member of the Heaven Guard, he's been trained for it all his life, just because he married you doesn't mean he stopped, there is a sword missing from the armoury.” He should be with Ran, if Ran had said he would have gone with him to protect him, his duty was to Ran and not to Crawford. If Ran had not wanted to return he would have honoured that decision.
“You lied to him,” Schuldig repeated, “you deliberately kept it from him when you should have told him so he could mourn.”
“What business is it of yours?” Crawford shouted, standing up and leaning on the table that separated them, “you're not his champion and you're not his husband.”
“No,” Schuldig said, “but I have been his friend for five years, can you say the same, or were you too busy fucking him to actually care?”
Crawford punched him. “Don't you dare speak to me about him like that.” He snarled.
“Crawford,” Farfarello said from the door, “the huntsmen have returned.” He said, “there's no sign of him, they don't know enough, which direction did he go in, he could have doubled back, he might have bought a horse.”
“Farfarello,” he said quietly, “kill them, then arrange for our return to Eressea, the Prince Mamoru is still in ym household, is he not?”
“Yes, he is.” Farfarello told him. “Then we have the king of Inabayama under our control. We can use that, leave men here so if Ran returns he is returned to me.”
“What are you going to do?” Yohij asked, horrified that Crawford could be so callous.
“I'm going to bring war to the Nemesis.” He answered calmly. “The Nemesis stole my bride, and I will destroy him for it.”
“Ran left you because you lied to him.” Schuldig repeated, “you kept secrets that were bang out of order.”
Crawford's glare was icy. “Your duty is to Prince Mamoru now, will you serve him?” He asked.
Schuldig said nothing, but he was a member of the Heaven Guard, he would serve his king.
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