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. )
Even an inch seems too much of a divide and he stifles the urge to cling to the other man until the world tumbles into ash around them. The blond smiles ruefully down at him, that damnable equilibrium reasserting itself. He tips his head to look up at the other, who swoops to kiss him lightly.
The affection, so easily and freely offered, steals what little breath remains to him and he finds himself clinging to the golden phantom-made-flesh as to a rock in a stormy sea. The hope wars with the deeper fear that he will be abandoned, left behind, left alone.
The arm around his waist tightens and he looks up into bright blue eyes as a deep, much-loved voice whispers in his ear. "I did not even catch your name..."
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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 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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"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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