Kyou Kara Maou: Grace
Warnings: Alternate universe. Mellow angst. Kay's fetish for giving people who are in love vials of poison with which to kill one another.
( They would find no traces of the man, who did not exist. )
( They would find no traces of the man, who did not exist. )
His breath is shallow now, panting in short bursts against his lover's mouth. Ken draws up his legs and Lukas settles so naturally between them that he loves it, craves it. He arches up, sealing their lips again and dragging their bodies together.
Then, with a frustrated sound, he nudges Lukas back, and takes advantage of this slight distance between them to pry at the button of his still-fastened pants. The denim is constricting and maddening against his sensitized skin and he needs them off. But with Lukas draped over his legs he doesn't have the leverage to do it. Ken falls back against the sofa, breathing almost too hard to speak, and resents that jeans that look so good falling off the gorgeous blond's hips are so annoying on himself.
"Help me," he manages, curling his fingers tenderly into the tousled hair at the nape of Lukas's neck.
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He can feel Ken's heat, like solid flames pressing into him and there is a hand tangled in his hair and they're kissing. The desperate hungry kissing that bruises lips and tongue against sharp teeth.
Ken bucks him back and doubt flashes up again for a split second before the former Sage rocks up against him, fingers curling into his hair. There is no doubt, no second-guessing just raw, almost animalistic need.
"Always." He purrs, sliding one hand down to unsnap the buttons while his other hand slides in to explore. "...perfect, my love, so perfect."
He shifts, rubbing against Ken and the shock of skin-on-skin contact galvanizes him. He throws his head back, hissing through gritted teeth as he fights to keep control.
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Lukas ducks his head in again to crush their lips together, swallowing the sound of someone's moan as their hips align just right. More of that will be the end of his self-control-- he's impatient but not that impatient. There should be nothing between them. Ken shifts position, urging both of them upright as he trails swift breathless kisses over the blond's jaw, tugging off his glasses as they get in his way.
He tries to form a sentence but his thoughts are for once too scattered for reason. He needs this too much to find his usual collected grace. Clumsy fingers tug at Lukas's jeans, working them lower.
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Ken pushes and pulls at him until he's up on his knees. Ken's fingers brushing against sensitized skin as the dark-haired youth whimpers softly. The jeans provide an infuriating barrier and he twists and contorts to squirm free of them without taking his hands from the bare skin of his lover.
His own jeans removed, he captures Ken's open lips in another kiss, even as his hands pull and guide the smaller youth out of his own jeans and tug him forward so he straddles Lukas's lap. The blond purrs into the kiss, one hand rubbing possessive circles against the small of his back, urging the other closer by the tiniest increments.
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The way those touches lay effortless claim to him threaten to rob all his remaining self-control. They're so close, those blue eyes electric on him, that even Ken's poor vision can't blur the details.
Breath comes hard and fast with anticipation as Lukas nudges him that last distance between, and then in the instant of contact Ken groans into his lover's smug kiss, the blond's name barely audible in the urgent sound. His fingers tighten on lean hips as he grinds down, heated erections caught between their bodies with maddening pressure. They are skin against skin almost as much as possible now, a friction eased by need and the faint sheen of sweat.
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The other comes to rest just below Ken's racing heart as Lukas breaks the kiss long enough to suck in a deep breath. He dips his head again, brushing Ken's lips over and over again in light feathery kisses. He is whispering between kisses - promises and declarations in a hundred ancient and dead languages as he nips lightly at swollen lips and they rock against each other in a maddening rhythm.
His thumb starts to move, barely touching the sensitive nub of Ken's nipple then away, then back in a phantom caress. All the while Lukas whispers loving and possessive words against his lover's parted lips.
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And when Lukas begins to speak-- Ken has never been vocal, but he loves it, loves it as Lukas purrs of the future with words from the past that only they could know, it crawls under his skin and burns in his blood. He moans, twisting closer, and buries his face into Lukas's shoulder, eyes closed and scoring whatever flesh is nearest with nibbling bites and urgent kisses.
The fever sweeps over him, a shuddering need heightened with every murmur and tantalizing caress, until the rhythmic thrust of his hips isn't enough. He only needs a little more, something just a breath more solid, and he steals an arm from around his lover's neck to drop between them.
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His world has dwindled to the silken feel of Ken's skin against his, the only sound that of Ken's breathless cries as his his climax builds, the taste of Ken's lips filling Lukas's mouth and the scent Ken and sweat and sex more potent that any drug or herbal compound. He bucks up against the unsteady hand, his own dropping to fumble for Ken.
He pushes up again, resenting even the frail barrier of sweat between them. Ken shivers and shudders and screams; the sound of release and completion and a satisfaction that Lukas can almost taste and the world explodes into fireworks and he howls silently as the shudders of Ken's release start the cascade of his own climax.
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Grateful. He slides bonelessly to one side of his lover's lap for the express purpose of twining close, closer than he could have while still hovering above him braced on his legs. He can hear the rapid thudding of Lukas's heart as he tucks his head against the blond's shoulder, and he knows that Lukas can feel his. If they weren't going to desperately need a shower in about two minutes, he might have closed his eyes and let the moment stretch out forever.
"You still love me," he hears himself say, amazed. It isn't a question -- he has never been more certain of anything as he is of this, right now -- but he has to say it because it's so unexpected and perfect, and he really is grateful.
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"You still love me,"
He opens his eyes a little, peering up at his lover through long dark lashes...and smiles. They've gone so far, endured so much loss and hardship but in this one, perfect moment, none of it matters.
They're together again, and this time...
"-no more letting go."
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