AUTHOR'S NOTES: This fanfic is told in five chapters, the names and ratings (in some as-yet-unposted chapters, ratings are pending) of which will appear at the bottom of each chapter. I'll warn you now: though this fic will start out relatively tame (PG-13 at most), it WILL go up by the time the upcoming chapters are posted, especially due to the explicit sexual content within Chapter Three, "Springtime for Lily". However, Chapter Three isn't essential to the overall storyline; if you wish to skip over it, you won't really be missing much from the plot. (Yes, PLOT! I can write fanfics with both lemon content and plot. I just often choose to cut to the fun stuff instead.) ^_^;

Anyhow, onto the OBLIGATORY LEGAL BLATHER: I don't own any of the characters in this fanfic. Yukito Kishiro does, and I thank Mr. Kishiro-sensei in advance for not suing me for writing this.

Now, on with the fun!

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The Scrapyard Chronicles
(Or: Five Chapters From the Journals of Professor Nova)
by Apricot the Gerbil


****Chapter Three: Springtime for Lily****

The young lady spent the following two days housed in the apartment next to my own. It was clear that she was quite pleased with her operation’s success. I would frequently hear her voice, singing and laughing as she re-taught herself how to use her voice again, through the rather thin walls of the rooms. However, I admit I was somewhat confused with her disposition when I would join her for meals; she would often thank me for my deed, yet a halting wariness was continually evident when we were together, both in her nervous speech and in her tendency to shift uncomfortably in her chair when I came near.

I reasoned to myself that the cause for her behavior was simply the sheer shock of her transition between such radically different situations, and was not overly bothered by the matter. However, she chose that night to make her true reasons known.

I was in my room, just about to retire for the evening, when there came a knock on the apartment’s door. I opened the door to find my patient standing there, holding a plate of flan with both her hands, her eyes gazing towards the floor. In a soft tone, she asked, “Is... is it all right if I came in for a while? I wanted to ask you something.”

“By all means! Come in,” I replied, holding the door open and gesturing towards my room. “Is something the matter?”

“Well... maybe. I don’t know. I’m not sure. But I think you could tell me.”

I paused for a moment at her strange response, then said, “Um... I’m afraid I didn’t quite understand you there.”

The lady sat down pensively on the edge of my bed, laying the plate next to her on the mattress. An awkward pause followed, as she closed her eyes, lips pursed together as if trying to come up with the right response. She finally lifted her head to face me, then asked, “What do you want from me? I know you’re not just doing this for free. Nobody does that.”

I was startled by her question. “As I told you before, my dear, I’m only seeing how you’ll decide to live your life, given a second chance.”

“Yeah, right.” The harsh tone of her quick reply surprised me even more. “How dumb do you think I am? Look, I may not know who you are, but I’ve been around the Scrapyard long enough to know that a guy just doesn’t give out favors to a girl, even one like this-- no, especially one like this!!-- and let her go without another thought. So, whatever ideas you’ve got about what you’re going to do to me, just do it now and get it over with. It’s driving me nuts that you’re hiding it like this!” She ended her outburst with the suppressed choke of a sob, her stormy eyes trembling.

I didn’t know what to say. After several moments of utter silence in the room, I sadly asked, “Did you really think that I only rebuilt you for myself?”

“Why else would you?”

Another uncomfortable pause, as I searched for words. “You were cheated out of a life of your own choosing. I was raised in a much similar environment, though in different fields of... career. What I receive from you is information about how much a life may change if allowed to choose as much as one can about it at the start.”

She sniffled faintly, staring at me for a moment, then said, “You know, I really do want to believe you.” Her gaze settled on my glasses as she continued. “Do you realize how much those goggles hide your face? I can’t tell what you’re feeling if your eyes are all covered up like that.”

“Would it make you feel better if I removed them?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly. While I felt much more comfortable wearing them, out of many years’ habit, I shrugged slightly as I brought my hands to the sides of the glasses and took them off, blinking as my eyes accustomed to the room.

The lady slowly stood up, moving towards me, her eyes almost searching for something hidden within mine. She stood closer than she ever had in my company, offhandedly tipping her head to the side slightly. “I didn’t know your eyes were blue,” she remarked. “Now. Say it again... what you just said, about what you want me for.”

I repeated again, meeting her gaze. “I don’t want you as some kind of toy. I’ve given you a second chance. I want to see what you do with it.”

She studied my face for a moment more, her countenance shifting to a small, relaxed smile. “Did you ever hear someone say, ‘the eyes are the window of the soul’?”

“I’ve heard something similar, yes,” I said.

“I don’t know where I heard that from, but I’ve believed it,” the lady sighed. “I always could tell what someone was thinking from their eyes. I don’t know why.”

“Do you believe me now?”

Her smile widened, slightly but warmly. “Yes.” She paused in front of me, then turned back to pick up the plate of flan. “I brought this for you. In case you weren’t lying,” she said, walking back over to me. “This is the stuff you’re always eating, right?”

“Um... yes, thank you, very much,” I said, returning her smile. “That’s kind of you, but I don’t have a spoon with me. I don’t know how I’d eat it, really.”

Her smile became a grin. “Well... to be honest, that’s also something I had in mind if you weren’t lying.” As I stood there, confused as to what she’d meant, she nonchalantly strode over to my bed, climbing onto the mattress and settling her shoulders against the front bedpost.

I wasn’t at all prepared for what came next.

Before I had time to utter a sound, she took hold of her dress-straps and pulled the whole garment over her head. She tossed it away, never taking her eyes off me; I heard the soft sound of her dress falling onto the floor, but I must admit that what I was presently seeing took much more precedence over such a trifle. She lifted her arms up in a stretch, then reached for the nearby plate. With a smile, she ran her free hand’s fingers through the pudding, then brought them downwards, rubbing the flan over that part of the body which was most a mystery to male Tiphareans.

The lady continued this motion until the plate was empty; I attempted to speak, to say something, but I could do no more than stare at her in abject shock. My most successful sentence was simply a nonsensical, dumbfounded stammer.

As soon as my guest had finished her task, she turned to me once more, spreading her legs as she slyly asked, “Feeling hungry yet?”

When I finally regained my voice, I said, “I... I must admit I’m more than a bit confused about... this. Didn’t you just finish telling me that you were afraid I was going to take advantage of you?”

She blushed, crossing her legs slightly. “Well...” she answered, “I know this seems kind of forward... (‘Kind of?!', I thought.) but I hope you don’t mind. You see...” She closed her eyes, hanging her head as she continued in a much slower, serious tone. “All my life, I’ve never known anything but the things people would make me do in the movies they’d shoot. I didn’t really want to do any of them. Even when they didn’t hurt... which wasn’t often. Because you could see it, every time they’d turn on a camera and start barking orders. They didn’t care about what I felt. I was a movie prop. Nothing more than that.”

She paused a moment or two before her head lifted towards mine again, her lip hinting at a faint tremble. “And, well... after the first few movies I was in, I couldn’t feel anything that should’ve felt good. They played too rough with their toys to let that happen.”

I tilted my head in disbelief. “I know they were brutal to you when I found you in the alley, but I... I didn’t know that...” I cautiously approached her perch on my bed, not wishing to alarm her, but she motioned me to come closer.

“I am grateful for what you’ve done. If nothing else... well, I guess I’m asking if you can help me find out if I can still feel that way anymore.” Her face blossomed into a smile as she continued: “To tell you the truth, you’re the first guy I’ve met who’s looked at my eyes when you talk to me. The way I see it, if there’s anyone I could trust not to force me with this, it’d be you.”

I could feel my face warming in a blush. “I really must say-- I’m honored that you’d...”

“I’m sorry if I’m scaring you,” my guest said. “You haven’t stopped shivering since I took off my dress. You can look, if you want, you know,” she grinned.

With this allowance, I let my gaze fall below her face, and took in this new shape with ready interest, hesitating as I looked at the area covered in flan. To my surprise, the idea she had suggested didn’t seem that repellant by now. Pointing towards the aforementioned zone, I asked her, “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind letting me...?”

She smiled in response. “If you’re acting as nervous as you are from inexperience, then maybe we both have something we can learn from each other. Come on up here,” she said, ending with the beckoning air of someone cajoling a frightened puppy as she laid back upon the front of the bed. I joined her on the mattress, yet was near clueless as to what to do when she spread her legs once more. When I asked her, she looked at me in disbelief.

“Wow. You really are new to this, aren’t you?” She paused in a growing frown, then asked, ”Ohhhh, it’s not... do you only like guys? Is that why...”

“No, no... that’s not it,” I said. “It’s just, well-- where I come from, they don’t bother teaching us anything like this.”

“Hm...” she said, shaking her head. “Well then, I’ll show you how you do this. Just tell me to stop if you get nervous.” With that, she leaned forward to bring her arm behind my shoulder, guiding me downward until I could clearly smell the flan. “Now... just lick it up... you can take as long as you want. That okay?”

“Y--yes...” I stammered back. I didn’t know why, but there was something intriguing about all this. I wasn’t sure exactly how I should have been feeling, but it was almost as if I was just beginning to learn something that, on some instinctual level, never should have been blocked by Tiphares in the first place. I bent forward, cautiously letting my tongue lap up the familiar food, until it was clear by my patient’s sighs that doing so was indeed a beneficial feeling for her. I closed my eyes and lapped harder, running my tongue along the pudding, until she became quite vocal with feeling her pleasure, and I was feeling a surface much different from that of flan. The lady had begun to sway her hips along with my tongue’s rising and falling, and I found that by now, even with a considerable amount of the flan being gone, simply listening to her wordlessly voice her enjoyment was just as pleasurable as the taste of the pudding.

I had been continuing such motions for several minutes before she suddenly stretched her back against the mattress, sharply gasping for air. She then drew in a long, quivering breath as her hands clasped firmly aside my neck, and it was soon afterwards that the taste of flan I was gathering on my tongue began shifting to a much more tart flavor. It took my mind a moment to register what had just happened, but the realization nearly caused me to swoon. I had read about such processes in what limited biology textbooks they had in the Scrapyard, but it was nothing compared to actually witnessing it. I took in the sweet smell and began to lick up this new delight until I was getting into it nearly as much as the lady herself. My efforts were rewarded by receiving more of such a taste two more times, as my partner continued her occasionally strained moans of pleasure.

I don’t know how much longer the lady could have continued in such an exercise, but I eventually had to draw my head back from between her legs; not only was my breathing becoming painfully labored, but I doubted that I could continue much longer without having reactions similar to hers. “I... I’m sorry,” I stammered, gasping as I lie there on the bed.

She turned her head down towards me, a dreamy, contented look in her eyes, when she began softly chuckling upon seeing my face. “You ought to see how frazzled you look,” she grinned. “I take it that people don’t get lucky much where you’re from?”

I was somewhat taken aback by her comment until I noticed that I was trembling like mad. After an audible gulp, I feebly nodded my head. “To be quite honest... never.”

“You’re kidding, right?” she said with a coy smile. When my answer came as a shake of my head, she sat up, moving closer to me. She paused, looking down on me as I continued my attempt to breathe, and her grin returned. “You know something else I heard once? That if somebody only eats one kind of food, you can taste the flavor in their...” She left my own mind to finish the sentence, then asked, “Mind if I see if that’s true? I’ve been wondering what flan tastes like.”

My eyes darted to hers, shocked by what she’d said. “You-- you realize, you really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to!” I stammered in disbelief, though I was thrilled at the very thought... an attitude that probably wasn’t difficult for her to notice, in hindsight.

“Don’t you worry... you said that you hadn’t been able to choose what you wanted to do in life, didn’t you?” she said, a sultry smile crossing her face. “This can just be my payback.” Her hands slowly began wandering downwards, sliding under my belt and coming to rest between my legs; I gasped at the very feel of her fingers. As I felt my member harden in anticipation, I let out a soft, pleasured moan at her touch, and though my mind began to cloud over, I could still hear her teasingly remark, “Well, now. I didn’t have to do much here, did I?”

I was still basking in this newfound feeling when my partner began unbuckling my belt with her other hand. As she gently guided the zipper of my pants down, she chuckled, “I’d better get these off of you fast... it doesn’t look like I’ll have much time to wait.” I gave her a lopsided smile and helped her as much as I could in my present state, until my slacks were resting on the floor by her dress.

“S’okay, relax... now, you just tell me what feels good,” she cooed to me as she brought her head down. I tried my best to stop trembling during the wait. When [--]

[The next page is missing from the journal - it appears to have been ripped out (perhaps to be carried with the journal's owner?)]

[--] me the truth. Are you enjoying this?” she asked. When I breathlessly nodded an affirmative, she climbed up beside me and continued: “’Cause this is the best time I’ve ever had. There’s only one thing that bugs me... I couldn’t see your face. I could hear you were enjoying it, but... well, if you want, I’d really like to try something else.”

“What would that--” I began, then stopped as my partner shifted her body over mine, slowly crouching down until we were both perfectly positioned for... oh my...

“Just say you want to do this. If you don’t, I’ll understand,” she whispered, looking down into my eyes, her long, raven hair splayed down aside her perfect face...

I was still trying to respond when I suddenly found it difficult to speak, other than the shuddering moan that escaped me. Without looking down, I could tell that my body had just made its decision for me. My partner also felt the sudden hardness press up against her, and she lowered her eyelids at me, sultrily chuckling. “Heh... um, well,” I said with a slight shrug and a small, sheepish smile, “Lead the way, I guess.”

The lady needed no further persuasion. She leaned forward onto me, one arm reaching behind my back, the other trailing down to where I had just entered, encouraging my erection with gentle strokes of her fingers. She began rocking back and forth against me, her face lit with delight as she started to softly purr. This motion heightened my own pleasure as much as it must have for her, and I soon joined in, until both of us were reduced to the wordless language of the pulses of straining arms, bringing us into ever yet another rhythmic hug, along with whatever escaped our mouths between heaving breaths.

Apparently, my partner still remembered whatever indications towards climax I had exhibited earlier; though my mind scarcely registered her playfully whispering, “No you don’t... not yet,” I was fully aware that, just as I felt my body go fully rigid, she had placed her finger directly on the base of my member, the implications of which I had never been made aware of in any classes. She hugged me all the more tightly as she did so, an action which was I was less aware of than the overwhelming sensation my senses were swimming in-- seemed to last forever-- nothing’s coming out-- like unbridled pain, but so different--

She removed her finger. I could hear someone screaming... and realized it was me.

--and then it was gone. I lay there, almost choking on the new air my lungs demanded that I force in, but I could still feel the lady clench herself around me, both inside and out; with a wet squelch and a tense, satisfied howl, she too reached her peak a few moments afterwards.

We laid there for some time, her body still locked with mine, silently panting towards each other’s face, until we gained the strength for words once more. Words, however, seemed useless to describe what had just happened. The most accurate comments we offered each other were no more verbose than “That was...”, punctuated by sighs too contented, I believe, to be breathed at any other time.

I can’t claim to say how drowsy my partner was feeling by this point, but I was well aware that I was tired beyond all previous comprehension. As she settled her face next to mine, I told her, “Thank you... thank you so very much for this... but I think I’m... I’m...”

She nodded, understanding. “Done for the night?”

“Indeed...”

“That’s just fine. This was the best night I’ve ever had, either way. Thanks,” she answered, placing a light kiss on my face. Her touch felt so cool, even after the burning heat generated from what we’d just done... She braced her arms and raised her body away, settling instead right beside me. Some of our milky exertions slid out from her onto the mattress as she did so, but the wetness bothered neither of us... nor did it bother me when she then brought her hand over to slide between the back of my shirt and my spattered coat. Within this hug, she drifted off to sleep.

I also fell into a slumber soon afterwards-- one far better than any I have ever had, before or since. That night, even the occasional spitting of gunshots in the city distance never burdened my mind. All that I was concerned about was the person huddled contentedly next to me, as we both rested peacefully upon a small, still-warm puddle of our own mutual creation.

I use that last word not without a dash of irony, for I then had no idea of that night’s effect-- one which was just then beginning within the woman beside me...


[**Chapter Four: "And Kaos Makes Three" is soon to follow... (please be patient...)**]

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The Scrapyard Chronicles Chapter List
*Chapter One: "The Krill and the Whale" (PG-13)
**Chapter Two: "Home Sweet Cesspool" (R)
***Chapter Three: "Springtime for Lily" (NC-17)
****Chapter Four: "...And Kaos Makes Three" (PG-13)
*****Chapter Five: "Requiem for The Dream" (R)