(I don't think I have an excuse prepared. Wait, yes!
alarielle fed the drabbles with more comments. Yes, that's right.)
.bonds.
Ayame's wedding is the first family event in six years where not a single person has clucked disapprovingly over the shame of single motherhood. The invitation that Ken received had been personalized, warning him that if she didn't see him there to support his sister when their grandmother inevitably laid into her, she would hunt him down and remove him physically from his apartment, and by the way, the babysitter is also invited.
The babysitter is, thankfully, not expected to look after Naoko today, as the little girl is safely in the care of Ken's parents. Lukas looks gorgeous in black and he stays at their corner table near the musicians, drinking champagne and occasionally leaning over to ask who is who amongst the guests, and which ones he's expected to be nice to.
In the end, Ken tells him, he's expected to be nice to all of them. He brings the blond more champagne to make up for it.
Ayame's table is nearby and Ken finds himself gravitating there when he notices that her new husband has wandered off to his own family. She looks sleek in her elegant white gown, Western-style, and with her hair done up to bare the long curve of her neck.
"How's your boyfriend doing?" she asks before he can even open his mouth.
Ken glances back at Lukas. He isn't drawing any attention to himself, so Ken tells her, "He's fine. He just doesn't know anyone here. I don't think he likes crowds." It has been many, many years since he has thrived on the attention of the masses; now the only attention he seems to seek, or even often notice, is Ken's.
"He looks a bit washed out. He's not sick, is he?"
Another alarmed glance at Lukas, who catches his eye this time and quirks an eyebrow questioningly. Ken smiles it off and shakes his head at Ayame. "He's fine," he repeats.
He almost tried to talk his lover out of coming to the wedding. It promised to be an occasion with dozens of Mazoku, and Lukas doesn't respond well to other demons -- they notice him more, when what he wants is to blend in. But Lukas chose to come ("No man escapes a family gathering unscathed," he said, "it's been thousands of years since my last one and it still stings.") and the fact that he is here means so much.
Ayame makes a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat -- she's clever, she knows better than to trust anything Ken says. Or maybe she's just a big sister; or perhaps it's some lethal combination of sororal instinct and innate intuition. "Well, take care of him. You'll need him for the next time you dodge babysitting."
Ken rolls his eyes. "That happened one time," he starts to say, but she reaches out and ruffles his hair and dislodges his glasses and then he is left with no recourse but to scowl at her with the remnants of his dignity.
When he gets back to his table, Lukas smirks and runs a hand through his hair to settle it back into place: it's just long enough to look silly in odd positions. "Murata-oneesan is a fearsome thing," the blond prompts.
"She's a dragon in a frothy white dress," Ken agrees, and smiles.
.claim.
Somehow they wound up on the couch again. Lukas honestly didn't mind, as long as Ken was willing and wanting and the pale skin beneath his clothes turned a faint flush as Lukas warmed him. They were twined as intimately as he knows how to make them and losing more clothing whenever it's convenient. It brought him back to their first afternoon together, scant days before, and how new it all was.
They'd been too drunk on sheer touch to slow down, to care about their lovemaking as an art. Thinking back, Lukas murmured, "We really need to keep something over here."
"Mm?" Ken was preoccupied with deliberate touches designed to drive his blond lover insane. "What-- Like, lube?"
"Yeah, exactly like that." Lukas shifted to bring them closer together, and they both dragged in a hissing breath.
Ken hovered, still for a moment, the fingers that had been at play over Lukas's chest sadly also still. He nipped at the dark Mazoku's ear to get him moving again, and was surprised when Ken leaned back, far back, until he was nearly horizontal on the couch -- not that Lukas objected to that, and it seemed like it could be a good idea -- and tugged open a drawer on the coffee table. A heartbeat of rummaging later he came up with a bottle of hand lotion and a sheepish grin.
Lukas's first reaction was, My clever, devastatingly sexy Sage, and a quick resurgence of lust that was sure to see that lubricant put to good use. But his second reaction, voiced, was, "What was that doing there?"
"In case I needed it." Ken twisted back upright, arms sliding around the blond's waist. "My hands dry out-- Not-- ...I don't want you to think I do this sort of thing all the time," he added suddenly, getting the gist of the question and flushing.
A week ago, I wasn't here, but there was still lube in that drawer. The realization was like a ton of bricks. Lukas glared at him and Ken turned even more red under his stare.
"Are you sure you don't?" he purred. "How many times have you been back here with men before? Women? How many times have you needed lotion like this before?
With a nervous laugh, just this side of a giggle, Ken asked, "Are you going to dust for fingerprints?"
Of course Lukas hadn't expected him to be a virgin, wasn't disappointed that he wasn't-- The heart was one thing, but bodies had interests of their own, interests that were expected to be followed up on. The heart was his. But suddenly he really thought about it and he wanted to destroy everyone who had touched Ken the way Lukas was touching him now.
He confiscated the treacherous lotion and uncapped it with one hand, pushing himself over Ken and bearing the young man onto his back again. "Unfortunately for everyone else," he said, "you belong to me."
"That goes without saying," was his lover's breathless reminder, ending in a moan and an arch as Lukas set about proving it anyway.