Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3275072.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tales_of_the_Abyss
  Relationship:
      Asch_the_Bloody/Van_Grants
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Age_Play, kind_of, unhealthy_amounts_of_dependence_on_Asch's
      part_anyway, Emotional_Manipulation, Implied_Childhood_Sexual_Abuse,
      Dubious_Consent, Anal_Fingering
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-02 Words: 3094
****** A Child, Unmoving ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Sixteen was almost as important as twenty, not quite a complete
     coming-of-age, but close. At sixteen, one could get married.
Notes
     Wrote this a while back when I was playing Tales of the Abyss.
     I want to be every single member of Van's emotionally abused
     underaged harem
Asch had tried to forget his birthday, but every year, when that day came
around, it still rose up in the back of his mind, no matter how much he tried
to suppress it. This year, he was sixteen. He wished even more than usual that
he could erase it from his mind.
Sixteen was almost as important as twenty, not quite a complete coming-of-age,
but close. At sixteen, one could get married.
The moment he woke up, in the small room he'd been assigned in the Oracle
Knights headquarters, that thought tumbled into his mind, and it wouldn't leave
him all day. He tried to push it out. If his life had been allowed to go on
normally, would this be his wedding day? Would his family at least be planning
it? Would his father give him stern advice on how to care for a wife, would his
mother cry over how grown-up her son was? Would Natalia have a wedding dress
made especially for her, one she refused to let him see until the moment of the
ceremony itself?
Was the replica going through all that in his stead? Was it going on right now?
That thought weighed heavy inside him all day, no matter how much he tried to
ignore it or push it away. It churned inside him and made him want to throw up.
The thought of that disgusting, infantile thing fumbling its way through even
this, one of the most important and anticipated parts of his life—and everyone
smiling complacently at it as if nothing was wrong—
He hated, hated, hated feeling so helpless.
He didn't have any words to express it, though. Or, the words he wanted to say
were too weak. He couldn't say them and still keep his pride. So instead, he
did what he, alone of all the Oracle Knights, was allowed to do, and crept into
the Commandant's office without an appointment, and sat on the floor, against
the heavy desk where his Master was working.
Asch sat and stared at a fixed point on the floor, his knees drawn up to his
chest. And Master Van said nothing, but reached a hand down and stroked Asch's
hair, just a silent acknowledgment that he was there. When that contact wasn't
enough, Asch scooted closer so Van could tousle his hair and pet him more.
Enjoying this kind of attention was childish, but Asch didn't care, because no
one else knew about it, and if anyone ever found out he would slit their
throat. Or that's what he imagined doing, anyway.
“Happy birthday, Asch,” Master Van said, after a long time, maybe an hour or
more.
Asch just grunted.
“I'm sorry.”
Asch took the hand that was petting his hair and grasped it, firmly, maybe so
hard that it might hurt. If it did hurt, Master Van would never show it.
Van let him do it, and Asch heard him sigh, the kind of sigh that came with a
fond smile.
“Shut up,” Asch mumbled. He tightened his grip on Master Van's hand, using both
of his own smaller hands now to trap it in a vise, and kept his face down. He
felt hot tears of rage beginning to gather in his eyes and didn't want Van to
see. He wasn't a child anymore: as of today he was in that strange space
between childhood and adulthood and he wasn't sure whether he was still allowed
to cry.
He heard the scratch of a pen overhead as Van resumed working, ignoring the
hand that Asch had taken captive. Asch bit his lip, pressed his face into his
knees, arms still awkwardly overhead. Finally he had to let go, to cover his
face, but an audible sob still escaped.
Then there was silence for a moment, and Asch hated himself. And then Master
Van got out of his chair, dropped to his knees next to Asch.
“What is it?” His deep voice was gentle and quiet, the kind of voice you
couldn't imagine coming from such an imposing man.
Asch struggled to breathe, to say anything, or at least anything coherent.
Master Van scooped him up as easily as if he'd been a small child. Pressed
against his robes, Asch managed to mumble “Natalia.”
If Master Van said anything in response to that Asch didn't hear it, his body
was so wracked with dry sobs that were almost more like retching, like the
throwing up he'd wanted to do all day. He cursed and clawed at Van's shoulders
and Van held him and said nothing, but just held him and stroked his hair and
now and then soothingly shushed him.
“It's not fair,” Asch choked. “It's not me. Today is an important day for me,
but it's not me!”
Master Van nodded. “I know, Asch. It's terrible of them, to act like that thing
is you. I'm sorry it had to be this way.”
“Fuck it...” Language like that was strictly prohibited, but Master Van would
let it slide when they were alone.
“I know, Asch. I know you can't ever put that pain away for good. But I can
help you forget it for a time.”
“Yeah.” Asch buried his face in Van's shoulder. This was what he'd come for,
Master Van's warm embrace and his kind voice, and the kisses Van was leaving on
his neck right now...Master Van kissed him sometimes while they were alone
together like this, and it was another special thing they did together. He'd
die of embarrassment if any of his peers found out that he still liked being
kissed and hugged like this, at his age.
“I can make this an important day for you,” Van said, close to his ear. “For
you, Asch, the Oracle Knight. My student.”
Master Van's voice was getting lower and quieter, and Asch shivered in
anticipation, even with his face still wet with tears. He tilted his face up,
so Master Van could kiss him on the lips. These kisses didn't count, the same
way being kissed by a parent didn't count. His first kiss would be for
Natalia—even now, on his sixteenth birthday, he still wanted to believe that he
would be the one to kiss her first. But that wouldn't happen now, would it? Not
like there had ever been a chance.
Why did these kisses with Master Van not count, again? If he wouldn't ever get
to see Natalia again, then there wasn't any reason to save his first kiss. He
pressed closer to his teacher, grabbing onto the fabric of his robe like he
wanted to tear it. If it wasn't a strong knit, he probably would have.
Master Van kissed him more deeply in response. One of his hands was low on
Asch's back, and Asch could feel it sliding further down. That was fine. A dark
anger was burning inside him, from deep in the back of his mind where it always
lurked. He wanted Master Van to help him forget it, or maybe to help him spread
it. He really wasn't sure which of those he had come here hoping for. Here he
was, being kissed and petted like Van had done to him since he was a kid, and
he still loved it even on his sixteenth birthday, even though he had Natalia to
think of, and so his self-loathing grew, and so he wanted more.
“Hold on,” he said, pulling away from his teacher's kiss. He struggled for a
moment with his outer robe, trying to pull it over his head. He felt Master Van
helping him, undoing the buckles on the sides. “I can do it myself!” He swatted
Van's hands away and managed to tug the robe off. He tossed it to the floor.
“It was just getting in the way,” he mumbled.
Master Van smiled at him; Asch would have found that smile condescending if it
had come from anyone else.
Asch ran a hand through his hair, more to hide his face for a moment than
anything else, and settled back into Van's arms. Van laughed and embraced him
again.
“I love you, Asch.”
“You say that a lot, but...”
“But what?” Master Van was petting him again, from his head all the way down
his back, and around the curve of his ass.
Asch wasn't sure how to phrase it. He had a feeling, but wasn't sure how to put
it into words. His gloved fingers traced circles on Van's broad chest.
Van's hand had settled high on Asch's thigh, even further up than his boots
reached, under the shadow of his tunic, enough to brush against his crotch.
Asch shifted a little and felt the fabric in between his legs just brush
against Van's skin. Van moved his hand up further, and Asch shifted again, then
again. Feeling Master Van's hand somewhere like that was weirdly comforting,
maybe just because it was so intimate. Master Van began petting him there. His
hand was big and warm. Asch let out a satisfied little noise, just loud enough
for Master Van to hear, so he would know that this was good.
When Master Van started to rub faster, and more roughly, Asch unconsciously
closed his legs, feeling the heat growing there.
“I'm gonna get hard,” he muttered, feeling really stupid. He hadn't thought
this out, or maybe he had.
“That's perfectly alright. It's nothing I haven't seen before,” Van assured
him.
Pressed against him, Asch could hear his low voice resound in his chest. He
shivered happily.
While Master Van continued to touch him, Asch unbelted his tunic and pulled it
up, just enough to tug his leggings down, exposing his hardening cock. He
pushed himself into Master Van's hand, not looking at him. Master Van had seen
him naked plenty of times, so he wasn't ashamed about that: it was just
embarrassing to be so forward about what he wanted. He wanted to feel Master
Van's touch, feel his warmth, in a more intimate and better way now that he was
sixteen. Practically an adult.
Master Van wrapped his hand around Asch's hardening cock and rubbed it gently,
thoroughly, so it felt almost reassuring. Asch was glad he couldn't see his own
face: he'd pressed it into Master Van's shoulder, his eyes were screwed shut,
and he was sure he was turning pink. Closing his eyes made it easier to
concentrate on everything else. The musty, comforting smell of books in the
office, the sturdy roughness of Master Van's robe on his cheek, the rasp of his
breathing and his Master's steady breathing and the rustle of fabric, the sure,
callused hand on his cock. That hand moved, toying with his balls for a little
bit before gliding back further and rubbing around the opening of his ass. Asch
tensed up. “Hey, that's...”
“Don't worry about it,” Van rumbled, in a voice so deep and quiet it was more
felt than heard. “You're old enough for this today.”
Asch nodded, and felt himself flush a deeper shade of pink. He'd come out
sounding like a dumb kid yet again. As if he could sense his insecurity, Van
petted his hair, while his other hand kept circling around back there.
“Asch,” Van said, deep and quiet again, close to his ear so the hot breath
tickled him, “do you think you could get something for me? In the corner, where
the first aid kit is, there's a small white jar. And make sure the door is
locked, while you're over there.”
“Okay,” Asch said, in a voice that sounded too shaky, and he stood up, pulling
his tunic down to cover himself. He checked the door to the office—it had been
unlocked after all, he realized with a surge of self-loathing, and locked it.
When he returned with the small white jar, he nearly dropped it at his feet.
Van had unfastened his pants and started touching himself. That really
shouldn't have shocked him, he told himself. He was old enough for this now,
just like Master Van, so there wasn't anything weird or bad about his Master
doing this in front of him...
Van smiled at him, gesturing for him to lower himself to the floor again. Asch
did so, dropping to his knees and trying not to look at what Master Van was
doing.
“Don't worry, Asch. It's fine.” Van sounded a little amused. “Come here.”
Asch crawled closer, and Master Van kissed him, putting a hand on the back of
his head to keep him close. At the same time, Asch heard the lid of the jar pop
open, and then Master Van's other hand was at his entrance again. It's fine,
Asch told himself, as Van's finger, slick and cold with something, pushed
inside. It was a strange and unnatural feeling, but he tried to relax. The hand
at the back of his head moved to touch his cock again, and Master Van shifted,
leaning back against the wall so that Asch's cock was touching his. Asch began
to grind up against his Master without needing to be told, and at the same
time, Van worked another finger into him. Asch pulled away from the kiss,
burying his face in Van's shoulder again to stifle a moan. Van grinned.
“You like this, hm?” he purred, his deep voice teasing, even while his fingers
kept probing and stroking inside of Asch. Asch shuddered with pleasure and
nodded. Even if he couldn't have what he wanted on his sixteenth birthday, if
he could have this, then...
...Then what? He pushed the thought away. Don't think about that now.
“Asch,” Master Van murmured, “I'm going to put my cock where my fingers are
now. Alright?”
Asch nodded. Hearing Master Van say “cock” was as surreal as seeing him
exposed, but he tried not to look surprised. The switch took place in a second,
before Asch could quite register it. Master Van slid his fingers out and at the
same time something thick and foreign pushed in. Asch pushed back on it, trying
to help, clenching around it because it was weird, really weird. His eyes felt
hot again and he blinked a few times.
His replica was in his mansion, with his family and Natalia, and he was here,
on the floor of his Master's office, and he was losing his virginity, he had a
cock in his ass and it hurt and he had never imagined anything like this
happening to him when he was a child. He had thought he was going to be a king,
but instead—he had no family, no surname, no friends to speak of. Only Master
Van.
“Did I hurt you?” Van asked, tucking Asch's hair behind his ear. “Are you
alright?”
The image of Master Van's concerned face swam before Asch's eyes. He screwed
his eyes shut, being sure to look down, hiding his face. “L-let's keep going.”
“You're going to have to move up and down if we do it like this.”
“That's f-fine! It's not a big deal!” he snapped.
Master Van straightened up, sitting up against the bookcases, and Asch put his
hands on his shoulders.
It was too late now to not think about what he was doing while he was doing it,
so instead he tried not to think about anything but the motion of riding up and
down, slowly and steadily, until Master Van told him he should go a little
faster. Doing this rhythmic movement was like training for the sword, he told
himself, though his toes were starting to curl and something inside him was
getting hit, over and over, and he couldn't pretend that was anything ordinary.
Master Van had one hand on his hip and the other hand was petting his hair
again, that same gesture he'd kept doing this whole time and that he'd done
since Asch was much younger and had been so scared to be on his own without his
parents or Natalia or anyone else, but Asch tried not to think about that right
now. All he wanted to think about was that this felt good, and Master Van was
doing it to him. All he wanted to think about was Master Van. He brought a hand
down to stroke his cock, trying to time it with the thrusts but fumbling too
much. He thought about Master Van, hoping that the memories he brought up would
arouse him more. There had been a night, when Asch was eleven, and he had been
scared by some nightmare, and Master Van had let him climb into bed with him...
Remembering the closeness and the rain pounding on the window outside and the
nest of blankets he'd made and how Van had sleepily pulled him closer, he
wrapped his gloved hand more tightly around himself, rubbing almost roughly
enough to hurt. If he did manage to hurt himself, that was fine with him. He
probably deserved it, coming because of something like this. Not a wife or even
a girl at all, but a beloved teacher.
Asch pulled his glove off. He'd came all over the palm of it and he didn't want
to look at it. Master Van was still thrusting up into him, more roughly, and
Asch just leaned his head on Van's shoulder and tried to make himself as light
as possible and stared across the room, at the dusty light coming in through
the window but not penetrating the shadows behind the desk.
Master Van came inside him. Asch felt the warm stuff dripping out and grimaced.
But he didn't pull away, even when Master Van lifted him up to pull out.
“Asch?” Van asked.
“Can I stay here?” Asch said, in a small voice.
“Yes, of course,” Van said.
Asch shut his eyes, so he wouldn't see the daylight or his glove on the floor
or the paperwork he was keeping Van from doing or his own body, practically an
adult's, but still being held and coddled like this. He had been in Master
Van's care for six years and still nothing had changed at all. His replica,
even as dumb as it was, was going through life in his stead right now, and he
was stuck, unmoving. A kid.
And if he was a kid, he was allowed to be selfish. So he held tightly to Master
Van, with every bit of the physical strength he had gained from combat
training, and stubbornly refused to let go.
 
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