Story: HHL Code Geass

 

When you're immortal, there are a few things you learn to avoid. First, don't fall into a hole nobody can rescue you from. Second, boredom. Third, boredom. Yes, that was already on the list, but it's such a serious problem it deserves a second entry.

C.C. sprawled across Lelouch's bed, kicking her legs in irritation as time crawled by. Feeling the progression of time quite keenly, in fact. The boy had insisted that she not venture out into the Academy, lest she be recognised by... Someone. Probably that redheaded pilot of theirs. Then again, there was a military base directly opposite wasn't there?

Also, he'd hidden his cards from her. Changed his details. Thoroughly ensured that she could not order in a pizza without asking him first. How was she supposed to get their sponsorship in if she couldn't order pizza?

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Hrm? Now, who could that be? Sayoko, perhaps? Nunnally? They knew she was here, of course. They might not know that she was sleeping in Lelouch's room, but -

"Come in?" C.C. replied, and in stepped - a bright and bubbly blonde with a big contagious smile on her pretty face. "Oh. You're Milly Ashford, are you not?"

"The one and only!" Milly cheerfully replied. "So, we finally meet, miss mysterious green haired beauty? You're quite the source of gossip on campus - ...a cool, mysterious beauty with emerald-green hair whom absolutely nobody claims to know! Oh, so romantic! Oh, it torments and tantalises and teases the imagination!"

From the way Lelouch had described this girl, C.C. had a vague idea they would have liked each other. It seems those instincts were right on the money. It seemed as though this girl wasn't remotely interested in kicking her out or reporting her, or anything of that nature.

Not that C.C. was especially worried. She'd survived worse than an overenthusiastic student council president. Anyway, Milly sat down next to her on the bed with a wicked expression on her face.

"So~" she chirped. "What's your relationship to Lelouch~?"

C.C. tilted her head and considered for a moment just who this girl actually is, then whispered in her ear. "An associate of the Lady Marianne." Which was, of course, the best kind of lie: The absolute truth. 

The reaction was exactly what she'd been aiming for. Genuine surprise. The girl had clearly come into the room with a gameplan, and C.C. had done exactly what she did best - smoothly thrown her off her game while remaining a truly enigmatic force.

"You're a bit older than you look if you knew Marianne," Milly solemnly observed.

"I get that a lot," C.C. replied, once again completely honestly. "If you're thinking my relationship with Lelouch is physical, have no concerns. He's been the perfect gentleman."

"More's the pity," Milly sighed. "I worry about that boy sometimes. He's got half the girls in school drooling after him, but he hardly takes notice. He seems to spend all his free time getting money together through fair means or foul, or taking care of his little sister."

"Nunnally is adorable, and must be protected."

"Yes!" Milly declared. "However! It's not fair for Lelouch to shoulder that burden alone! Oh! Imagine it! On a cold winter's night, working alongside his partner to secure Nunnally's food! The two of them, side by side, her in a cute little apron, him with his sleeves rolled up..."

"That determined expression on his face, as ever," C.C. finished for her, which set Milly off, slapping her hand onto C.C.'s shoulder, which she began to rub and squeeze while hte two of them laughed at how silly Lelouch was.

"So glad you're not in that sort of relationship with him," Milly sighed, then slipped her other hand onto C.C.'s shoulder. That felt... nice. Really nice. For the first time in forever, C.C. felt her immortal body start to really relax. "After all, I think he'd be a really good fit for Shirley~"

"Shirley...?" C.C. pondered. Oof. Milly was really getting in there. Kneading her back rather expertly, and... making... her sink down, and....

"Yep, for sure!" Milly continued, whispering right into C.C.'s ear. "And do you know what else?"

"What?" C.C. asked, feeling... rather peculiar all of a sudden.

"I think that boy needs to get laid."

C.C. considered that. How uptight Lelouch was. How serious he was. How unduly, unnecessarily intense he could be...

"Yeah, I think you're right..." C.C. mused.

"Of course you do," Milly giggled, and snuck a quick kiss. "Today, everyone seems to!"

=====

Lelouch Lamperouge did not believe in magic, but he did believe in the terrifying efficiency of Milly Ashford. He found himself standing in the center of the student council's auxiliary dance studio, a room of mirrored walls and polished hardwood that currently felt more like an interrogation chamber. He had been systematically purged from his schedule for the day. His professors had simply smiled - a vacant, glazed expression that bordered on the catatonic - and told him that the Student Council President had "authorized a special extracurricular project."

Lelouch rubbed his temples, the pressure behind his eyes mounting. He remembered all too well his conversation with Shirley earlier on, which felt more and more... Peculiar the more he thought about it, though to his annoyance he could not quite grasp the reason why.

"This is a gross misuse of academic time," he muttered to the empty room. "A logistical nightmare. I have three chapters of history to synthesize and a strategic map of the Fukuoka district to analyze."

"Oh, hush, Lelouch. You're so focused on the map that you're missing the scenery."

Lelouch stiffened. He turned toward the voice, and for a moment, his brain simply refused to process the visual data. 

C.C. leaned against a barre, her usual detached boredom replaced by a predatory, languid grace. She had discarded her straightjacket for something that could only be described as a tactical assault on modesty. A sheer, crimson silk wrap clung to her hips, adorned with a belt of gold coins that chimed with every minute shift of her weight. Her midriff was entirely bare, the pale skin of her stomach contrasting sharply with the deep red of the fabric. She wore a matching top that barely contained her breasts, held together by thin strings that looked as though a single sneeze could dismantle them.

"C.C.?" Lelouch's voice cracked. "What in the name of all that is holy are you wearing?"

"It's called a costume, Lelouch. Though I prefer the term 'teaching aids,'" she replied, her voice adopting a sultry drawl. She pushed off the barre and slid toward him, the gold coins on her hips singing a rhythmic, metallic song. "Milly was very insistent. Apparently, the student body has a sudden, overwhelming interest in the ancient arts of the Orient. Specifically, the parts that involve a lot of shaking and gyration."

"You are not a dance instructor," Lelouch countered, stepping back. "You are an immortal catalyst for Geass who spends ninety percent of her time eating pizza and complaining about the quality of the crust."

C.C. stopped inches from him. The scent of cinnamon and something metallic hit him from out of nowhere. She tilted her head, with a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"I've lived for centuries, Lelouch. I've spent time in courts where the only currency was pleasure and the only law was the rhythm of the drums. I can dance circles around any human in this building."

"And why," Lelouch asked, his voice dropping an octave, "am I here?"

"Because every great performance needs a focal point," C.C. whispered. "And Shirley is very, very eager to learn how to move for you."

As if summoned by the mention of her name, the studio door swung open. Shirley Fenette practically bounced into the room, her face displaying a vivid shade of carnation pink. She was dressed in a makeshift practice outfit - a tight white tank top and leggings that left nothing at all to the imagination, her chest heaving with an anticipation that seemed to almost take its own physical presence.

"Lelouch!" she squealed, her eyes wide and shimmering. "You're here! I was worried you might be too... busy."

Lelouch felt a cold sweat break across his neck. "Shirley, I do try to make my commitments. I did promise you that I would help." Though he hadn't expected to be taking the whole day off from classes to watch her shake her ass at him. Her fine... Fine... toned by swimming ass.

The thought crept into his mind so subtly that he almost didn't notice - but when he tried to catch it, the thought slipped away again, right out of his head.

In any event, Shirley didn't seem to hear him. She drifted toward him, her movements uncharacteristically fluid, her hips swaying with a subconscious rhythm that mirrored C.C.'s. There was none of her usual awkward shifting around him, none of her slightly clumsy body language. Instead, it was more like she'd translated her swimming dexterity to land. She stopped right in front of him, her breathing shallow, her gaze locked onto his lips.

"I want to be good, Lelouch," she whispered, her voice breathy and thick. "I want to learn how to... how to make you look at me. Only me."

Lelouch looked from the flushed, desperate girl to the smirking immortal. He was trapped.

"Alright," C.C. announced, clapping her hands. The gold coins jingled loudly. "Class is in session. Shirley, stand over there. Lelouch, sit in that chair. Center of the room. Don't move. Don't speak. Just... observe."

Lelouch obeyed, mostly because his legs felt like lead. He sank into the wooden chair, the mirrors reflecting his own bewildered expression back at him. Part of him wondered why he could not say no. Another part, deeper in his mind and far more repressed, was greatly looking forward to this.

"The secret to belly dancing," C.C. began, moving behind Shirley, "Isn't in the legs. It's in the core. It's about isolating the muscles of the abdomen to create a ripple, a wave. It's about taking the energy from the earth and channeling it upward, through the hips, and releasing it."

C.C. placed her hands on Shirley's waist. The contrast was striking: the pale, experienced hands of the immortal guiding the trembling, eager form of the schoolgirl. 

"Now, Shirley. Imagine you're a flame," C.C. murmured. "Small, flickering, but hungry. Now, push your pelvis forward. Just a fraction. Feel the tension."

Shirley gasped, her back arching. "Like... like this?"

"Exactly. Now, the shimmy."

C.C. began to demonstrate. It was a masterclass in eroticism. Her hips moved in a blur of rapid, controlled vibrations, the gold coins creating a shimmering wall of sound. The muscles of her stomach rippled in a hypnotic sequence, a liquid motion that seemed to defy the laws of anatomy. 

Lelouch found himself leaning forward, his pupils dilating. He tried to analyze the movement - the pivot of the ankle, the contraction of the obliques-but the logic was failing. The room felt hotter. The air grew thick, saturated with a heavy, musk-like energy that made his skin prickle. Despite himself, his mind felt saturated with that thick heaviness in the room, as though reality itself was trying to make him behave himself.

"Your turn, Shirley," C.C. commanded.

Shirley attempted the movement. It was clumsy at first-a jerky, awkward shudder that looked more like a chill than a dance. 

"No, no," C.C. chided, her voice humming with amusement. "You're thinking too much. You're trying to calculate the movement. Stop calculating, Shirley. Stop being a student. Start being a woman."

"I-I'm trying!" Shirley whimpered, her face flushing deeper.

"You're not trying," C.C. countered. "You're hesitating. You're afraid of what he'll think if you look... lewd. But look at him, Shirley. Look at Lelouch."

Shirley turned her gaze toward him. The hunger in her eyes was visceral, an open wound of desire. 

"Does he look like he wants you to be modest?" C.C. asked.

Lelouch opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He was staring at the way Shirley's tank top clung to her skin, the way her chest rose and fell in jagged rhythms. He wasn't the sort to normally be this aware of a woman, but... Shilrey's beauty captivated him utterly.

"Again," C.C. ordered. "Focus on the feeling of his eyes on your skin. Let that be the rhythm you follow."

This time, Shirley didn't hesitate. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed. The movement was still raw, but it was powerful. Her hips snapped forward, and she began to shake, a rhythmic, primal vibration that sent a shockwave through the room. She wasn't just dancing; she was pleading.

"Better," C.C. purred. "Now, the orbit. Move around him. Let him feel the heat of your body without actually touching him. The anticipation is the most potent part of the spell."

Shirley began to circle Lelouch. She moved like a predator, her hips swaying in a wide, sweeping arc. She leaned in close, her hair brushing against his shoulder, her scent-sweet vanilla and sweat-filling his lungs. She was a whirlwind of motion, her breathing becoming a series of rhythmic moans that timed perfectly with the snap of her hips.

"S-Shirley," Lelouch managed to choke out. His sense of self control was being smothered in the most ridiculous way.

"Shh," she whispered, her voice a velvet caress. "C.C. said I shouldn't talk. I should just... show you."

She stopped directly in front of him, her knees slightly bent, her body undulating in a slow, grinding motion. The mirrors amplified the sight, surrounding Lelouch with a dozen versions of Shirley's longing for him. A longing he had psychologically ignored, or perhaps downplayed within his own mind, but now it was being reflected onto him an infinite number of times.

It was a trap. An elegant, erotic trap, the likes of which even he could not have conjured.

C.C. stepped forward, her gold coins chiming a triumphant melody. She slid behind Shirley, her arms wrapping around the girl's waist, guiding her movements with a precision that was almost surgical.

"Now, the finale," C.C. whispered into Shirley's ear, though her eyes were locked on Lelouch. "Show him. Bare your very soul to him, as surely as you bare your body."

On a silent cue, Shirley collapsed forward, her breasts pressing firmly against Lelouch's chest, her arms draping over his shoulders. At the same time, C.C. leaned over her, her own body pressing into the back of Shirley's, creating a sandwich of warmth and soft curves. Lelouch felt the air leave his lungs. He was pinned between two forces of nature, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla colliding in a dizzying haze. 

"Well, Lelouch?" C.C. asked, her voice a low vibrate against the back of Shirley's neck. "How was the lesson? Was the facilitation satisfactory?"

Lelouch looked up at C.C. Her emerald eyes were glowing, a hint of something ancient and predatory shimmering within them. He felt a strange, electric current humming through his veins, a pressure in his lower abdomen that demanded release.

"This is... highly irregular," he gasped, though he didn't make any move to push them away.

"Irregular is the new normal," C.C. replied. She reached down, her fingers grazing the nape of Lelouch's neck, sending a jolt of lightning down his spine. "The world is changing, Lelouch. The rules are melting. Why fight the current when you can simply... float?"

Shirley let out a small, broken sound-half-sob, half-moan-and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "Lelouch... please... tell me I was good."

Lelouch felt his resolve shatter. The logic, the strategy, the masks - they all felt flimsy, like paper in a hurricane. He reached up, his hands finding the curve of Shirley's waist, pulling her closer.

"You were... adequate," he whispered, his voice strained.

"Adequate?" C.C. laughed, a rich, melodic sound. "He's still trying to grade you, Shirley. I think he needs a more... hands-on demonstration of the curriculum."

C.C. shifted her weight, her gold coins jingling as she pressed her hip firmly against Lelouch's side. She leaned closer, her lips almost touching his ear.

"I wonder," she mused, "If our boy genius would like to participate in the practical exam."

"I... I shouldn't," Lelouch stammered, even as his grip on Shirley tightened.

"Shouldn't what?" C.C. asked. "Shouldn't enjoy the beauty of the moment? Shouldn't embrace the chaos? You spend so much time playing god, Lelouch. For once, why not just be a man?"

Shirley pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted and glistening. "Please, Lelouch. I don't want to be a student anymore. I want to be yours."

The room seemed to contract, the mirrors reflecting the three of them in a loop of escalating desire. Lelouch felt the perversion energy - the virus that had infected the city-surging through him, amplifying every nerve ending, turning every touch into a wildfire.

"C.C.," Lelouch groaned, "what have you done to this school?"

"I didn't do anything," she replied, her smile widening to reveal a hint of teeth. "I just provided the soundtrack. The rest is all you."

C.C. stepped back, but only for a second. She reached out and flicked a gold coin on her belt, the sound sharp and clear in the sudden silence of the room.

"The lesson is over," she announced, though her gaze remained hungry. "But the after-party is just beginning."

Shirley didn't wait for an invitation. She sank to her knees, her hands sliding up Lelouch's thighs, her gaze fixed upward with an intensity that could have melted steel. 

Lelouch leaned back in the chair, his head hitting the wood with a dull thud. He looked at the ceiling, then at the mirrors, then at the two women who had completely dismantled his world in less than an hour.

"I'm going to kill Milly Ashford," he whispered.

"Later," C.C. replied, sliding back into his space, her hand resting on his shoulder. "Right now, I believe you have a practical exam to oversee."

As Shirley's lips met the fabric of his trousers, Lelouch closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, the chess board was gone, the pieces were scattered, and for once, he didn't mind losing the game.