Convergance of Metal and Flesh
(one-shot Esclaflowne fic)
By Sakata Ri Houjun

This was written as a dare not long after I had finished 'Fateful
Dreams'. I was getting tired of writing Tasuki+Chichiri, and wanted to try
a different anime. A guy firend suggested Esclaflowne, since I had
just gotten the last video at the time. I asked which pairing I should
try, and Dilandau+Folken was his reply.

This is the result...

Warning: Lemon, no plot or point to this fic. Also very sadistic,
almost. Slight spoilers for the series, maybe.

******************

"strategos."

Folken paused in his footsteps at the sound of his title coming so
forcefully from the young Dragonslayer. He turned smoothly to face the
silver-haired youth who was no younger than his brother, Van. Yet, as his
eyes locked on Dilandau's, he couldn't help the chill that ran up his
spine. This young man was nothing like Van, his brother's opposite and
rival in every way.

"What is it, Dilandau?"

"Tell me when we shall seek the dragon?" His gloved fist clenched
tightly with his pent-up excitement, the leather creaking slightly at the
pressure. "I'm anxious for the hunt to begin."

"Is bloodshed all you long for?"

"You'd be surprised at what I long for, Strategos. Blood is only part
of it." Dilandau sneered at the older man as his eyes narrowed.

"I sincerely doubt that anything about you would ever surprise me."
Folken turned to go but Dilandau followed, unwilling that their
conversation end so abruptly.

"Are you implying that I'm predictable?"

Folken kept up his long, fluid stride, ignoring the youth who now
glared at him. Dilandau wasn't about to be brushed aside and ignored so
easily. He smiled then, deciding to bait the half-Draconian and see how
far he could push him, how much he could take until the impenetrable
veneer this man wore would crumble away.

He chuckled then, the sound forcing Folken to slow his pace and look
over his shoulder at Dilandau. For a moment, he allowed himself to
wonder just what made the man tick. Only once he reached the door to his
chambers did he stop again and faced Dilandau fully.

"Are you afraid of me, Folken?"

The older man balked inwardly at the casual use of his name. Although
he and Dilandau had been on this mission for awhile, he had never heard
the youth use his real name before.

Folken took a moment to regaurd the tempermental youth who smiled
cunningly back at him, as if he were toying with the older man.

"I have nothing to fear from you, Dilandau." He faced the door again
and entered the privacy of his chambers, hoping that Dilandau would
leave him be.

The young man cocked his head, calculating his next move. "You keep
yourself so calm, Folken. Especially when I could cut you down where you
stand." Playfully, he fingered the ornate hilt of his sword as he
contemplated the very thought.

"you could try." Folken spun and brushed back just enough of his heavy
cloak to reveal the hilt of his own sword. The had been trained by the
best samurai in all of Fanelia since his youth. Although he did not
wish to fight his ally, he would not hold back should Dilandau attack
him.

Dilandau licked his lips, half-expecting, half-wanting the older man to
draw his sword and attack. When it became apparent that this wasn't
Folken's intention, he removed his hand from his sword.

"Very well, Folken. You have my respect."

"What have I done to earn such respect from you, Dilandau?" The older
man was relieved and curious all at once.

Dilandau grinned cunningly. "You didn't back down. I like that.
Unlike the whimpering dogs who are under my command, you faced me even as I
threatened you."

"You pose absolutely no threat to me, Dilandau."

"Indeed. You are a very hard man to read, Folken. I wonder if when
Emperor Dournkirk gave you that mechanized arm, that he didn't steal your
emotions away as well."

Folken lost himself for a heartbeat of time, clenching the metal hand
tightly. He hated to be reminded of his debt to the emperor of Zaibach,
a debt that had been forced upon him when all he wished for was death.

"My emotions belong to me and no one else."

"I wonder sometimes." Dilandau began to circle around the impassive
man, not forgetting the flash of anger and sorow behind his eyes, or the
slight trembling.

"When my Drangonslayers look at me, it's in either fear or awe." He
tossed his hand in the air in a bored gesture. "A fanatical devotion is
what they will ever know in their heart for me. But you..."

Dilandau had stopped his circling and was facing Folken again, arms
planted firmly on his hips as he peered at the older man with interest.
"You intrigue me."

Folken stood still, trying to keep his emotions in check, like he had
always done. Dilandau had already gotten him to show some of his anger,
he wasn't about to give the twisted youth the pleasure of breaking his
clam veneer. Dilandau took a step towards the towering helf-Draconian
and slitted his eyes when he didn't back away.

"They say you're all machine, Folken." He took another step, he could
smell Folken now. He wasn't afraid and that excited the youth more.
"They say you aren't a man anymore." Another step thd their bodies a
few inches apart.

Folken's eyes met Dilandau's, completely netural and unreadable. The
silver-haired you smirked. "I wonder if they're right."

In a quick movement that even caught Folken off gaurd, Dilandau reached
upwards and snagged the back of the older man's neck, fingers tangling
in the delicate white strands. Folken's eyes widened as Dilandau
claimed his mouth in a conquering kiss that did little to hide his violent
nature.

When the youth released him, Folken attempted to compose himself, to
hide behind his stoic expression, but even then he could not disguise the
heat moving through his face, cloloring his cheeks, and the gasping
breaths he took. Dilandau took notice of the effect the kiss had on the
older man and smiled again, although not quite as sadistic as before.
He could feel his own heart pounding and knew that he must look just as
flushed as Folken did.

"Not a machine after all, I see." He reached his hand out and began
playing idly with the hem of Folken's cloak. The older man stood
silently, unsure of the game Dilandau was playing. When Folken made no move
to stop him, Dilandau unclasped the broach holding the dark fabric
closed with a flick of his wrist. Folken clenched his living hand to stop
its shaking as his cloak fell to the metal floor with a soft whisper.

Dilandau's eyes widened as he got he first good look at the mechanical
arm. The complex design, no so unlike the inner workings of a
guymelef, seemed almost like a chaotic imitation of like. He wondered how
Zaibach's sorcerers were able to create such a device. Was Folken able to
control it through his muscles or his mind?

Carefull, he wrapped his hands around the cool metal and brought it up
to his face for a closer inspection. It was a dangerous object indeed
with fingertips tapered to shap points, tiny needles hidden within the
gears. It looked so powerful, as if he could crush a skull in his
grasp, spilling blood and brains in an explosion. How exciting.

Folken watched as the younger man brought his hand up to his face and
traced hsi tongue along it's pointed tips, eyes half-lidded. He was
taken aback by this apparently seductive gesture although he couldn't say
he didn't enjoy the attention. When was the last time he had been
thouch in this way by either a man or a woman? Certainly not since he had
recieved his arm. Those that he had redeemed only looked on him with
the same fanatical devotion Dilandau had spoken of earlier.

But the look in the youth's eyes was not one would give a lover. It
was part predatory, as if he were anticipating a feast, and part in awe,
almost like he feared Folken's hand. But Dilandau was never afraid of
anything.

"What is it that you want, Dilandau?" Folken finally asked, his
curiousity overriding all else.

His red eyes shone with sadistic lust as limitless posibilities
presented themselves. He rubbed his cheek against the palm, relishing the
feel of the cool, dangerous metal near his skin.

"You are right, Folken. I do lust after the blood. But more than that
too."

"You don't realize what you're asking."

"Oh really? I think you know me well enough to know better. I always
know what I want." With one hand, he began to unbutton his jacket
until a smooth, pale expanse of his chest was revealed. He brought
Folken's hand down to the opening, forcing the sharp tips to lightly graze
across his skin. Dilandau's mouth parted as he moaned.

Folken felt his heart race at the disturbing yet undeniable erotic
scene before. He knew Dilandau had overly sadistic tendencies, but never
thought the youth would be so blatant about sex. And not only that, but
at how he managed to blur the lines between pleasure and pain as well.

"Is it just the blood you want, Dilandau?"

He smiled up at the older man, softer than before. "I want the pain
and danger too. I know you can give me that, Folken."

"Are you so certain of that?"

Dilandau chuckled sharply as he traced fingers along the mechanized
arm. "Give me what I desire and I will be at your mercy."

Folken's eyes widened in surprise at his words. Since when did the
Dragonslayer give up his body so easily. The youth was incapable of love
or any heartfelt emotion. But it wasn't love he was seeking, after
all, but the thrill his hand could give. Dilandau lived for the pain and
the pleasure caused by it.

The older man comtemplated how he should react. Since it was his arm
he wanted and not him, there was nothing to prevent him from turning his
back on the youth. Yet, Folken couldn't deny the lonely ache thathad
been eating away at him. He had never felt wanted before and here was
someone willing accepting. Folken did now love Dilandau, but he
couldn't deny the longing in him. If just for a moment he could forget the
aborration of his unwanted destiny, then perhaps he could give in to
Dilandau's wish.

Slowly, as if to test his theory, Folken brought his right hand up and
caressed the youth's face. Dilandau leaned into the touch with another
moan, soft and plaintive. It seemed that the violent young man had
undergone a transformation, becoming submissive and eager.

Dilandau hadn't expected the older man to be so gentle with such a
device. If it were him, he would have exploited every weakness for his
pleasure. But this man's gentle touch seemed to awaken a part of himself
he never knew exsisted before. He wanted more of Folken's minstrations
as well as the pain. It was almost as of there were two minds, each
wishing for an opposite extreme.

Reacting on instinct, he took ahold of Folken's other hand, the one
that was whole and made of flesh. He placed this hand over his rapidly
beating heart, savoring the warm contact that made him feel safe and yet
disgusted him at the same time. To calm the more sadistic part of him,
he leaned into the sharp tips of Folken's right hand, letting the sweet
bite calm his hungry mind for now.

Folken watched as confusion swirled around in Dilandau's eyes. For a
moment, he could see a small girl with golden hair who wished nothing
more than to be comforted. Then he could see the cold-blooded killer he
knew once again. The older man pondered if he had just seen something
about the young man that no one knew, net even Dilandau himself?

Feeling the rapidly beating heart beneath the young skin, the rise and
fall of the muscled chest, Folken couldn't help himself and leaned in
to graze his lips across Dilandau's, afraid that in the end it was just
a some sick little game the youth was playing. But Dilandau returned
the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Folken's neck.

When his right hand inadvertandly tensed against the back of Dilandau's
neck, the youth responded by thrusting his tongue forcefully into
Folken's mouth, claiming a swift victory from the moist orifice. For a
moment, he lost himself as the two personalities waged war within his mind.
One wanted Folken as a man, wanting to be held and loved. The other
desired to feel that hand inside him, causing sweet pain. Either way, he
wanted the older man who wasn't refusing his offer.

Dilandau puled away and began removing his gloves, eyes remaining on
the half-Draconian's impassive face. His emotions may very well be his
own, but the older man's body ached for more. He couldn't deny that,
not anymore.

Folken's eyes locked onto the youth's only to blink back in shock as
the irises shifted form red to blue and back to red again. "Dilandau..."
he bagan softly, trying to put his thoughts into words.

"This is something we both want, Folken." Dilandau interrpted as he let
his gloves fall to the floor and reached out to cup the narrow face.
One thumb brushed against the tear tattoo under his right eye and
briefly, his mind wondered why Folken would have this symbol of sadness
prominently displayed on such an emotionless face.

A man who normally seemed as empty as a guymelef, who never had a
weakness, who calmly accepted the chaos that compromised life. But even the
strongest armor had its weak spots. What ever this tear represented
was Folken's He brought his face to him and ran his tongue across the
tattoo as if to taste the tear itself.

Folken gave in, letting his eyes shut as he groaned. Both of his arms
wrapped tightly around Dilandau's narrow waist, bringing the lithe body
against his won. The youth responded with a slight gasp before tracing
his tongue around to his ear, hooking through the golden ring and
tugging playfully.

"Dilandau," Folken whispered huskily. "This won't change anything
between us."

The younger man laughed aburptly. "I never expected it to." He then
pulled away and began to work in getting the older man's clothing off.
The delicate material of his shirt and pants easily slipped away at his
touch.

Meanwhile, Folken was returning the favor, deft fingers, both flesh and
mechanical, worked together to unbuckle Dilandau's armor. The youth
shrugged free of his armor and his half-open shirt. Folken allowed both
his hands to roam the pale expanse of chest that rose and fell with
every breath.

Folken noticed a small red pendant nestled between his pecs. His eyes
blinked as he recognized the Sorcerer's tag. Covered in runes only
familiar to Sorcerers, it identified the result of some experiment.
Although he had been of of those high-level scientists before assuming the
title of Strategos, this tag was a bit more complex. He could decifer
some of the runes, but it was not enough to know what sort of
experiments Dilandau had been put through. Perhaps that could explain the
youth's unnatually violent nature.

Within moments, both men were nude. Dilandau was painfully erect, but
Folken only partially firm. This did not excape the youth's attention
as he dropped to his knees before the older man and wrapped his lips
around the head.

Folken tensed, not expecting this sort of action from Dilandau. He
clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as the young man drew Folken
deeper into his mouth, teeth grazing lightly and toungue tracing circles
along the sides. As his mouth worked Folken's erection to full hardness,
Dilandau's mind swam with a dizzing sensation, his cock throbbing while
his heart beat faster.

He finally pulled away and placed his hands on Folken's slender hips.
Bracing himself, he stood slowly, letting the older man's moist shaft
brush against his chest and stomach. He smiled when Folken threw back
his head, face going slack for a moment.

Dilandau backed up slowly towards the bed, drawing folken with him by
his left hand. Folken noted that the young man's eyes had turned blue
again even though his won mind was reeling from the pleasurable
sensations.

The silver-haired youth turned slightly to crawl onto the bed and then
positioned himself on his knees to draw the older man to him. Folken
climbed onto the bed, also on his knees, and let himself be embraced.
His left hand ran over the smooth, muscled back of the youth until he
reached his ass. Dilandau sighed when Folken squeezed slightly and then
reached for his other hand.

Folken looked down and noticed Dilandau's eyes had returned to normal
again as his right hand was brought to the youth teeming erection. The
older man balked a moment, fully aware of the damage he could inflict
but Dilandau's eyes slitted with lust, his mouth parted.

The sharp tips of his fingers were drawn lightly across the sensitive
flesh and Dilandau gasped. He thrust against the dangerous edges,
wanting the pain. he bit his lip when Folken encased his erection in an
iron grip, the metal biting the tender organ.

The sweet agony that flooded his mind was just as he dreamed it would
be like. The pain and pleasure melded together, crossing and recrossing
the already blurred line between the two sensations. Then Folken began
to stroke and the youth nearly screamed aloud.

Folken had no way to tel if he was damaging the younger man because he
had no feeling in the artificial limb. So, he watched Dilandau's face,
montering for any signs of discomfort. But the youth was rapped in
ecstacy, hips moving forcefully with Folken's movements.

Then his body locked, stiff and unyeilding, as he screamed. Folken
drew away, scared for a moment that he had indeed hurt the young man, but
then realized that Dilandau ahd reached orgasm. The youth collasped
back on the sheets, no longer being held by Folken and looked up at the
older man, a sated look on his face.

He took ahold of Folken's hand and brought it up to his face with
trembling hands. As the older man watched, he began to lick the semen off
the palm, slightly tinged with blood. He smiled at Folken's expression
and pulled him down on top of him to kiss him, sharing the blood and
come that was in his mouth.

Surprizingly, Folken accepted the offering, swallowing the fluids
before drawing away to gaze down at the young man. Dilandau's eyes had
shifted again to blue, trust shining within their shimmering depths.

"Folken," he pleaded before wrapping his legs around the older man's
waist. "I want you inside me."

Folken reached down with his left hand and collected the remaining
semen form Dilandau's limp member. He gasped softly at his touch and the
older man snuck a glance downwards to see the flesh slightly bruised and
cut in a few places. He was shocked that he had willingly caused such
damage, even if Dilandau wanted it.

Gently, he ran his fingertips across the sore flesh, the feather-light
touch coaxing the youth's erection to a firm hardness once more.
Dilandau's eyes opened wide, the two colors fading back and forth as his
mind battled between two personalities.

THen Folken inserted a finger coated in come and he arched his back,
the sadistic side of him forgotten. As the finger probed and stretched,
Dilandau began to write in agony. It wasn't physical pain he was
feeling, but a deeply rooted fear of lonliness that had been repressed and
forgotten.

He clung to the older man as two, then three fingers were deep inside
him, touching a part of his soul. He closed his eyes tightly as Folken
removed his fingers and then positioned himself over the trembling
youth. For a moment, he paused as he considered the implication of his
actions.

It didn't seem right since he didn't love Dilandau. The only one he
loved was his brother. However, it felt right. It was a physical
satisfaction he had denied himself since he recieved his artifical arm.

Dilandau squeezed slightly with his slender thighs, blue eyes pleading.
"Folken," he whispered.

The older man then entered the youth, erection peircing the tight ring,
filling up Dilandau with his hardened flesh. The younger man gasped,
feeling the lonliness from before vanish form his mind. He wasn't alone
now.

He arched up and kissed Folken, almost tenderly, in response to this as
he locked his legs around the oder man's waist, deepening the
penetration. For a moment, Folken waited for Dilandau to reach for his
mechanical arm again, to use the metal for some sadistic purpose. But instead,
he merely gazed back up at him, patiently waiting.

Folken withdrew to the head, a small groan escaping his lips before
Dilandau pulled hims closer, forcing him to thrust in again, to kiss the
parted lips. His manhood was trapped, pinned between their stomachs,
and as Folken continued to pump into him, the friction caused the youth
to cry out and maon the older man's name.

Folken wrapped his right arm underneath Dilandau's waist, pulling the
youth closer against him as he sped up his driving rhythm. Dilandau
screamed suddenly, head thrown back and fingers gripping Folken's ass. He
seed spilt between their tightly pressed bodies, hot and slick.

Dilandau's muscles clamped down on Folken's erection, squeezing the
last of his control away. The carefully placed layers of his neutral
appearance were completely stripped away as his body emptied itself into
Dilandau. He gave out a low cry before collasping limply on top of the
still panting youth.

The red pendant pressed against his cheek as Dilandau's chest heaved.
With shaking arms, Folken pushed himself off him and withdrew
comepletely. He sat up and glanced over at the panting youth whose eyes
reverted once more to their normal color. Dilandau smiled, the cunning once
again in place.

"nothing less than I expected from you, Folken."

The oldr man afforded himself a small chuckle. "This changes nothing
between us."

"Why should it? You and I are incapable of love, but we're still me
with needs." Dilandau sat up and met Folken face to face. "Don't worry,
though. I still respect you and what happened today will not go past
these walls."

"You're wrong, Dilandau. We are capable of love, as we are men. But
not for each other."

Dilandau snorted before getting off the bed and gathering his clothing.
Folken watched silently, letting his mind slip into the familiar stoic
persona he wore, certain that Dilandau would keep his word not for him,
but in fear of losing the respect of his subordinates.

The silver-haired youth started to leave, but then turned and stalked
over to Folken, who was still seated on the bed. With two gloved hands,
the grabbed handfulls of the soft white hair and brought Folken's
impassive face close to his.

"I won't forget this, Folken." Dilandau then kissed the older man
feircely, a small reminder of what had passed between them scant moments
beore.

Then Dilandau retreated out the door, leaving the half-Draconian to
stare at the metal wall calmly.