Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3599046.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      RWBY
  Relationship:
      Jaune_Arc/Pyrrha_Nikos
  Character:
      Jaune_Arc, Pyrrha_Nikos
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Cunnilingus, Light_BDSM, Dom/sub, Public_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-23 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 4272
****** I'll Make A Man Out Of You ******
by TobiasHawk1
Summary
     Pyrrha's been training Jaune every day, but for WHAT remains to be
     seen. Arkos fic, dom!Pyrrha, sub!Jaune, oral. R&R, I hope you enjoy,
     and remember, Zone-tan watches you fap.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Their relationship had started with training. Pyrrha was kind, patient, and
skilled. Her rough, calloused hands pushed against his hips to tuck them
beneath his spine as he finished the final blow with Crocea Mors; a powerful
jab she'd come to appreciate.
Sweat ran down from his forehead in beads, running to his cheeks and jaws, then
dripping off his bare chin to the gravel below. Some pooled in the pits of his
shoulder muscles, while even more dripped down his chest and stomach, following
the grooves that were just beginning to etch themselves beneath his skin. He
was panting, tired from a previous late training session the night before,
classes, the gym, homework, and their current training.
She always insisted that he train with his shirt off. "I need to see where your
muscles are flexing. It's not just about the movement, but about the power."
That's what she'd been taught by her instructors, but the words seemed hollow
to her when she repeated them. Almost as if she didn't actually believe them.
No, she had an ulterior motive she wouldn't even admit to herself in her most
vulnerable of dreams.
"Chin up, Jaune. Concentrate. Your sword is an extension of your arm. You're
not just swinging it… you're carving the air with your intent! Make it strong,
powerful and graceful."
Jaune smiled, glad to perform the movements yet again. He was absolutely
determined to get it right! She respected him for his persistence. Gone was the
Jaune that tried to train in solitude out of preconceived notions of machismo.
This man was hers to control, a force of bountiful, directionless Aura that
screamed to be molded by experienced hands. She relished the challenge. And
through it, their friendship grew ever stronger. Pyrrha couldn't believe anyone
in the world would see her as more than just a champion- more than just
a fighter. Jaune so easily called her his friend, it made butterflies take
flight and fill her stomach with the flutter of hundreds of tiny wings.
Four more times he performed the carefully choreographed movements until she
was satisfied with the performance.
"The intent is there. It's strong, powerful, and deadly- but would it falter?"
"That's perfect, Jaune! Now you can do it against an opponent." The redhead
slipped off her hoodie, leaving it a pile of cloth on the floor. She was
wearing only her inner layer of battle-wear. Neglected were the riveted metal
or leather piece that shaped her so well- Jaune could never tell what material
it was made out of and never had gathered the gall to ask. The vambrace,
greaves, cuisses and heels were gone as well, exchanged for bare skin and
comfortable sneakers. Her diadem still ornamented her head as always, framing
her face as beautifully as a rainbow did the sky.
She used her semblance to summon Miló from its resting position on the ground
near Akoúō, and expertly snatched it from its path as it sailed through the air
with the finesse of a seamstress stitching a dress. With a flick of her wrist,
it became the xiphos she preferred in close-quarter combat. She raised it to
Jaune, showing him the respect a teacher would a student. "You're going to do
the same thing. Faster. Harder. With more control. Understand, Jaune?"
The poor blond already looked uncomfortable, eyes darting from Pyrrha's, to her
weapon, to his own sword and back again.
"Um, yeah. O- okay. Just block, okay?"
Pyrrha sighed internally.
"He'll have to learn eventually." She'd held her patience for this kind of
passivity long enough. A new lesson must be taught and, more
importantly, learned.
The exercise was a routine with ten strikes, two parries and a forearm bash
interspersed within the flow of the sword. It'd taken him three days to
memorize the moves without forgetting a step, and nearly a week to learn to
execute them properly.
He tightened his hand around the grip of the sword, flexing a variety of
muscles in his arm, shoulder and neck that attracted her eyes for just a
moment. She tore her gaze away and instead locked onto blue irises with a
piercing stare, ready to teach what subtlety had not.
Jaune started his first strike, a slash meant to test his adversary without
exposing himself more than what was absolutely necessary. He hesitated.
With a slight shift to the left, she easily dodged the blade. He followed
through, reflexes still not fast enough to stop his momentum. Pyrrha stripped
him of his weapon with a flick of her wrist, and with a leg maliciously placed
in the path of his leading foot, she tripped him. As he fell forward, she
grabbed him by his waistband, pulling his weight back over his feet. She could
see the look of gratitude on his face and felt terrible for him as she slammed
him on his back on the gravel. She pointed both their weapons at his face
sternly.
In school, Pyrrha was considered a 'nice' girl. She detested bullies and loved
making her friends friends happy... but this rooftop was not school. It was a
gladiator pit. It was the fire that had shaped her into the warrior she was
today, and she would spare Jaune none of the blood, sweat and tears he'd
cheated his way past when he'd made it into Beacon.
"Again."
***** Chapter 2 *****
He was flirting with Weiss. Again. Pyrrha had grown used to his obliviousness
by now, but ever since their discussion about his underhanded entry into Beacon
Academy, it always came with some sting.
"Was Weiss the one whom he'd entrusted with his darkest secret?"
"Was Weiss the one with whom he trained every night?"
"Was Weiss the one who saw in him a wealth of potential worth molding?"
She'd caught herself styling her hair in an asymmetric ponytail reminiscent to
that of the Schnee heiress. With a remark of disgust, Pyrrha had tucked the
brush back where she'd found it.
"No. If he likes me, he'll come to me as I am. Not because I remind him
of her."
After a while, she'd begun to feel threatened by her. Not in the petty way some
scorned lover would feel, but in a more relevant way.
"With his attention centered so much on Weiss, how could he clear his mind
while they practiced?"
Today, however, as Wiess turned him down yet again, the Mistrali came to a
realization. A momentary epiphany, if one would choose to define it as such.
She scribbled the thought away in her notebook to look back on later.
===============================================================================
"Jaune. It's been a week! Strike me or I'm going to hurt you!" Pyrrha sighed
her warning- no, her promise- with a dissatisfied air.
"Pyrrha, I'm trying! You're not making this easy-"
"You think this is supposed to be easy, Jaune? Do you think the Deathstalkers
will just kill themselves? The Nevermore will just drop from the sky? Beowolves
will simply attack their own packmates when they see you?"
"Pyrrha, I don't want to hurt you!" She struck, slamming the flat of her blade
against his ribs with enough force to dent a car door. He flinched in pain. His
Aura was great and he was getting better at using it, but he could still feel
the lethality with which she'd swung her blade. He looked betrayed and
confused, to say the least. Never once had she struck him out of anger.
Technically, she still had not.
"Jaune. Stop treating me as if I were some helpless dame! Now strike me!" Jaune
chewed his lip and took a deep breath, gathering his courage to strike with all
the intent Pyrrha had requested of him.
Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry!
She smirked at him as their weapons shook with the force of their blows. He was
strong- so much strength gathered in those biceps and triceps and- Swipe. Jab.
A powerful overhead attack that had never been a threat until now. Second
parry! She'd nearly slipped her cool steel through his defenses. Sparks flew as
they held the stance for a second that seemed to stretch through
eternity. Swipe. Backhand swipe. Slash. Forearm bash!
He struck her in the chest. She hadn't been expecting it. They had never
actually gotten so far in a single exercise without stopping and the existence
of the forearm bash had slipped her mind for the briefest of moments. Had it
been an actual fight, she would've grabbed the arm and dislocated his shoulder
before the blow landed, but, as it were, she'd been expecting to block the
final jab.
Jaune saw the glimmer of surprise in her emerald eyes and- for the quickest of
heartbeats- he hesitated with his final attack. It would be a finishing jab to
the exact center of the chest that would incapacitate anyone not wearing armor.
The tip of his blade angled slightly, shooting towards her shoulder.
She didn't even have time to sigh.
With a flurry of limbs, he was back on the ground, for what must've been the
thousandth time that week, disarmed and defeated.
"… again."
***** Chapter 3 *****
Jaune happily sipped from a juice box as they walked up the steps. Schnee's
Green Apple, or some flavor similar.
"How do you fill up on such little juice?" Pyrrha was curious. She was a hair
shorter than him, but they were both fairly tall individuals. At the age of
fifteen she'd gone through six similar juice boxes within an hour before she
deciding that they no longer suited someone of her stature.
"Oh, I don't. That's what the water's for." He swung the gallon of water she
required of him each night into view.
"So then why the juice at all, Jaune? That's an extra… sixty calories." She
read the label off the back. Sometimes the blond didn't really make sense.
"It… it tastes good. I love Schnee's." He sipped the last of the drink through
the bendable straw but didn't stop, his sucking making a ridiculous slurping
sound.
A pup piloting the body of a wolf. That was the best she could describe him. A
pup with all the potential and drive and motivation to learn, but still young,
inexperienced and playful. And naive.
She shook her head as she opened the door to the roof for the pair. He stripped
himself of his school uniform. Tie, blazer, button-up, a crew-neck white t-
shirt that was looking tighter on him every day. He left them in a neatly
folded pile on the floor as he assumed his weapon. He'd expected her to produce
her own, but she gave him pause as she stripped out of the bronze v-neck she
wore for support as well as protection. With a quick tug, it was up over her
head, a crumpled pile of cloth on the ground. Wearing nothing more than the
bindings which supported her breasts and the A-line miniskirt that was meant to
accentuate more than protect, she took her position in front of Jaune.
Pyrrha flexed her yearning muscles- they'd sat through lecture after lecture
today and she was itching for some exercise. Abs that Jaune aspired to himself
rippled in the cool night air as they performed the most rudimentary of
stretches. He watched her, but his gaze lacked anything but harmless curiosity.
It lacked in the very intent he needed with her as they sparred. Another
epiphany descended upon her. "Tonight will be the night."
"Same thing. And we're not leaving this roof until you get it right, Jaune.
I'll stay here another week if I have to." He could tell she meant every word.
"Okay, Pyrrha. I've got it this time." Slash- she dropped him onto his seat
with a quick shove.
"Still unprepared." She offered her hand and he took it, rising sheepishly to
his feet.
Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry. His chest shuddered with the strain. Swipe. Jab.
Overhead- she dropped him. He'd prepared his strike relatively quickly, but to
someone of her degree of skill, it was altogether a moment too slow. With a
rare, generous smile to reassure him, she helped him back to his feet. She
could tell these strikes were different. She could feel every inch of him
through their steel.
Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry. Swipe. Jab. Overhead. Parry. Swipe. Backhand. Slash.
Forearm bash. She let the strike collide against her chest. He'd expected her
to block of course, but she'd allowed it to strike her, expecting Jaune to
forfeit his next move.
The blonde surprised her. He'd been expecting her to take the strike, and with
a loud yell he pierced the night air with his weapon.
She looked down, the tip of his blade pushing just past the defenses her Aura
afforded and pressing dangerously against her clavicle. Glancing back up,
Pyrrha could tell he looked concerned. She smiled, all too proud for her
protégé. "Again!"
***** Chapter 4 *****
Another week passed and the duo had moved on from their original choreography
to something more advanced. Jaune was quickly improving now that he'd finally
understood the nature of their training. He was getting faster. Stronger. More
experienced with each passing practice.
She sat on his back, legs crossed, sipping casually from a juice box as he did
his push-ups. He could make it to twenty on most days. She made certain she'd
had a big lunch and pushed him to twenty-five before he finally collapsed. He
performed his squats as she clung to his back, arms loosely wrapped around his
neck, legs tucked around his waist. Occasionally a hand would drift down,
groping his chest. "I'm steadying myself," she'd say. The warmth growing
between her thighs which would have betrayed her words to a more experienced
individual was simply ignored by the blond. His sit-ups were performed
suspended, calves over Pyrrha's shoulders as she stood. She made sure to keep
eye contact.
He'd caught her eye before, but now, shoulders broad, muscles ripping from
strain, blond hair clinging to his forehead in loose, wet curls… She'd crafted
the beginnings of an Adonis from fine clay. And she'd be damned if she wouldn't
have him.
But always after Weiss. Bountiful attention entirely aimed at the wrong person.
She pitied him as Weiss's apparent crush on Neptune reared itself. She wouldn't
have wished what she was experiencing on her worst enemy, and now here they
both were. Trapped in a cycle he couldn't comprehend and she hadn't the nerve
to break. Yet.
"We can go catch a movie!"
"If he could catch anything but a cold he'd catch the disinterest she reserves
for him."
He didn't mean to aggravate Weiss so much. However the confidence he was trying
to portray was misread all too easily as desperation.
Finally, she understood.
"Tonight. Tonight would be my night."
===============================================================================
She waited for him as the sun set over the towers of Beacon. His footsteps
crunched heavily on the gravel. "Hi, Pyrrha. Where've you been all day? I
haven't seen you since classes ended…"
"I did my homework up here. It's a bit more relaxing." It wasn't entirely a
lie.
"Oh. Well are you ready for our training?"
"Yes. However we'll be doing something different today. Stretch quickly." She
waited as he stripped. Tie. Blazer. Button-up. T-shirt. He reached for his
toes. He stretched an arm over his chest, then the other. She chewed her lips
hungrily as she stripped down to the miniskirt and bindings.
Finally he unsheathed Corcea Mors, gripping the heirloom tightly. She thought
for a moment before grabbing her vambrace, slipping it back over her left
forearm. She most likely wouldn't need it, but he had surprised her at least
twice yesterday. She left her weapons on the ground.
"Attack me," she commanded, taking a stance. "No stopping until we're done."
"Okay…" He was obviously uncomfortable with her increasingly vulnerability, but
knew better than to question her. Pyrrha's reflexes were sharp, she slapped the
blade out of the air and maneuvered it as it neared her. Even unarmed, she was
more than a match for him, but he was improving.
"So how's Weiss," she asked with an air all too juxtaposed for their current
activity.
"Huh?" He looked confused, almost stopping his latest swing. She glared at him
until he continued.
"What do you mean, Pyrrha?"
"How is she? Are you still fond of her?"
"Um… yeah. I like her… I'm gonna try and ask her to the Beacon Dance…"
"Oh? She's shown interest in you?" She knew the answer, of course, but she'd
ask anyway.
"Well… no. But I think that if I ask her-"
"She'll say no." She nudged the next strike away with a little more effort than
was absolutely needed, spinning him off balance.
"Maybe if I-"
"She's going with Neptune." The readied strike never came and she watch his
face fall.
"Oh…"
"Don't stop!"
"Right… sorry." His strikes were a lot more sloppy now. The intent was gone.
She'd stripped him of his motivation. Next would go his anger.
"I don't blame her. He's a pretty attractive guy. I would ask him myself, but I
don't really know him…"
He was so distracted, she could've landed three powerful jabs in between each
of his own careless strikes. She waited, needing to break him down further.
This was vital, and needed to be treated reverently, however she couldn't help
but let a bit of the sting she'd bottled up for the past few months escape past
her lips.
"Tall. Handsome. Nice, tan skin. Bright, blue eyes-"
"I have blue eyes!" She dodged his next swipe and punched his shoulder, his
Aura barely dulling the blow.
"Funny. Charming. So confident!"
"I-I'm confident!" Another punch, this time aimed at his gut, and she could see
in his eyes, the war he was waging between anger and sadness.
"He's the perfect guy, honestly. I should've asked him… hmm, maybe I still can?
I doubt either of them would mind." He bellowed- a deep, primal sound from some
part of him she'd finally managed to reach. He swung Crocea Mors with every
intent to land a strike on her, and each strike missed her by almost a full
foot.
The tears were streaming down his face now, but he kept attacking, his rage
hardly masking his pain. She was two steps ahead of him every strike for nearly
two minutes. She let him expend the childish emotion until he slipped and fell
to his knees.
Jaune looked up at his teacher, defeated and broken like no physical wound
could cause. "I tried…"
She bent down, taking a knee as she placed a finger beneath his chin, lifting
his face to meet her eyes. She watched his chest rise and fall, sore muscles
rippling. "You failed, Jaune. It happens. As our leader, you have to be able to
move on."
"But… if I c- can't even convince Weiss… what good am I?" He sighed, wiping the
tears away, replacing them with a look of solemn defeat. Now was the time to
rebuild him. She'd knocked down the old bricks and misplaced concrete and dug
up the rotten foundation. Now it was time to build him anew.
"You're as good as you believe yourself to be." She needed him to understand
that. To know that it was he who determined his own worth. Not some rich
heiress or even herself. Jaune and Jaune alone.
"You sound like my mom…"
"Maybe she was right?"
"But… Weiss…"
"There're other women in this world besides Weiss Schnee." She nearly spat her
scorn.
"Like who?"
***** Chapter 5 *****
Pyrrha lifted him to his feet by his belt buckle. She was so very tired of
these guessing games. She was so tired of his naïveté and his obsession with
the heiress who'd so blatantly denied him at every opportunity. After months of
daily practice, she'd show him just how much more she cared for him
than Weiss ever could.
The red-head shoved the sore blond roughly against the nearest wall, the
weathered bricks scraping at his chiseled back. With a flick of her wrist, his
belt flew away from his waist. His eyes were wide with shock and confusion.
Even now of all times he was still the same directionless clay in need of a
goal.
"I'll give him one," she thought smugly. Pyrrha pulled his pants down, smirking
as he tried in vain to cling to them. His underwear tore off his body like old
rags. Jaune tried to cover himself up, but she slapped his hands away, taking
hold of his length.
With an unwavering gaze into his deep blue eyes, she slowly ran her hand up and
down his growing arousal. Within moments he grew in her hand, reaching a
considerable length. She was impressed, to say the least, but she wouldn't let
him see that. At least, not until she got what she wanted. His face was red,
hands braced against the brick wall as he tried to steady himself.
Pyrrha was just as inexperienced as her partner- such extensive training at a
young age forced her to limit her interactions with friends, attractive ones in
particular. However that didn't deter her from letting instinct take its
course. She'd thought about this moment for so long, fantasizing about every
possibility. She was ready for this.
She let go for a moment, spitting in her open palm before she continued. He
shuddered even more now, hips pressed against the wall as if he were trying to
refrain from bucking deeper into her hand.
"Jaune. Relax. This won't be nearly as enjoyable if you're holding your breath
the whole time."
"S-sorry… I've never-"
"Shh… neither have I. Doesn't mean I won't be good." She stroked him at a
steady pace, biting her lip as she watched his chest rise and fall, his hips
buck ever so softly towards her, into the warmth of her hand. She was curious
how big he actually was, it seemed to take forever to get from the tip to the
base and back again and her fingers barely touched as they wrapped around him.
She imagined his broad hands pushing her down, wordlessly demanding her to
please him with her mouth. One hand at her throat as he marked her neck with
his teeth, his hips bucking against her as she squeezed him between her thighs,
toes curled tight as she tried desperately to follow his commands and hold
herself off from her release.
She'd mold him into that man if it killed her, but he was a student who learned
by watching. By doing. It'd take time.
With a final stroke, she released him, teasing her fingertips over the head of
his member. He was breathing heavily, face red with desire. "P-Pyrrha…?"
"Be a gentleman, Jaune. Ladies first."
"R-Really?" His eyes lit up and she had to stop herself from smiling. She
leaned against the wall as Jaune kissed her. Sloppy and inexperienced, it was
still amazingly sweet. She ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, tugging him
whenever his kiss got too out of hand, petting him the more he got it right. He
learned quickly, nibbling at her bottom lip, nearly making her melt in his
strong arms. She held her posture though, not yet ready to give up the reins.
Slowly, Pyrrha pushed the blond down by his shoulders. She shivered as he
kissed a trail down her chest and stomach. Taking hold of him by his dandelion
mop, she directed him towards the crook of her thighs. He slowly lifted her
skirt up before looking up into her emerald eyes. She pulled him in, lips
against labia and watched him take his first few tentative, exploratory licks.
Shivering, she clutched at his hair, pushing and pulling his head, directing
him to the most sensitive of spots.
The pleasure was incredible as his long, smooth, warm tongue tentatively slid
it's way between her folds. They were already warm and ready for him and any
form of pleasure, but Jaune offered a terrific blend of care and enthusiasm. It
was obvious he was trying his best to please her, and the delicious sensations
sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. She was buzzing with excitement and
her legs shuddered, suddenly straining to keep her on her toes. Pyrrha sighed
softly, gripping Jaune's hair even tighter as he explored her body. His hands
gripped her thick thighs, fingertips gripping just as tightly to them. The
sensations felt amazing, but they weren't enough to give her the release she
craved from him.
"It's called a clitoris and it's right here- holy Dust…" She gasped, hips
shuddering as she held him close, not allowing him a moment to pull away.
"Deeper. Deeper. To the left. Your left. A little m- ooooh." She whined as he
finally found her g-spot with his fingers, licking at the small bundle of
nerves gently with the flat of his tongue. "Don't stop licking! Jaune- oh Dust
Jaune don't stop!"
Pyrrha kept him down there long enough she could've sworn he'd grown gills. He
suckled at her warmth, dousing the heat that'd grown so irritating over the
last few months with his tongue. She moaned into the night sky, riding his
face. He swirled his fingers, licked at her bundle of nerves with the tip of
his tongue, slowly driving her mad as she bucked against him.
"Oh, dust Jaune… Jaune~" She moaned his name one last time, ecstasy running
down his mouth and chin as she finished. Even after she released his straw
hair, the poor boy kept going still not yet having understood what he'd done.
She didn't mind. She'd let him bring her over that peak.
Again.
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