[Fanfiction] Morning Blues (chapter 2/2)
Fandom: Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru (Betrayal knows my name)
Pairing: Hotsuma x Shusei; Senshirou x Kuroto; mentions of Luka x Yuki and the Murasame siblings
Rating: PG-13 (1st chapter); M/NC-17 (2nd and last chapter)
Warnings: Possible spoilers for minor situations, nothing major; smex (for what else should I write fanfiction? :P)
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. This also applies to anything related to this series. Any similarity with real world situations is pure coincidence.
Author's note: I'm sorry for taking so long to update this fic! *bows* Writer's block and a very busy life. Have tons of assignments and working hours are quite hectic so. Thanks for all of you who read the first chapter and are still sticking for the next one. For the second one I didn't want to have so much action (action is not the same as smex, though :P) since I wanted to explore the characters psychological side. Hope you will enjoy it! Reviews are love. This is an un-beta text so there might be some grammar mistakes.
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- "Touko-chan, I'm thirsty."
Tsukumo was lying in his bed, his body resting on the soft mattress Tachibana especially prepared for him. He loved to come home and dive into that sea of foam rubber and cotton, so light and warm he didn't even dare to wake up in the morning, unless his sister called him, first gently and endearing (which he indulged in every morning while it lasted) but fierce and loud when he resisted to open his eyes. His pillow was at fault too. The exceptionally fine goose feathers (as expected from the Giou family) massaged his neck and embraced his head in a lullaby recipe.
In other words, the younger Murasame sibling loved to be spoiled.
Touko sat in front of their desk near the window. The butterfly patterned curtains only allowed a little amount of light to fill the room, just enough to make the fractal themed wallpaper noticeable: it looked like a mixture of round shapes alternated with gentle random strokes of paint. Tachibana surely had quite a taste in interior decoration.
The pink-haired girl stopped what she was scribbling and attended the request. - "What do you want to drink?" - Her voice had a pinch of sweetness that Tsukumo loved above anything.
- "I want a blueberry milkshake with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream on top."
Touko was used to her brother's apparently perplexing obsession with luscious things. - "You have an upset stomach so no cold things for today."
- "Then… fruit tea with sliced pineapple and three cubes of sugar." - Tsukumo was wavering and gesturing in the air, how much glucose or how the yellow fruit should be cut, the size of the mug and the delicate unique scent of his tea. Just like a kid.
Without Tsukumo noticing, Touko was right next to him, her face a little annoyed, not like her usual self. But he didn't mind. He wanted to be spoiled. He was the younger brother after all.
- "Something's wrong Touko-chan? Ahh… if Touma-san has some custard cream in the fridge he can mix it in the tea too."
The older sibling adjusted the blanket so it covered his shoulders. Although it was already spring, a chilly breeze still threatened to attack anytime and Tsukumo was the nearest target for a troublesome cold. Her small hand brushed past his cheeks, increasing the heat emanating from it. They were smooth and firm like an azuki bean filled daifuku[1] she couldn't help but pinch them. A painful yelp escaped Tsukumo's lips. - "Young boys should learn not to bully their sisters! You stay here quietly and nicely while I bring you a glass of lukewarm water."- And placed a chaste kiss on his forehead before leaving the room.
`Tsukumo smiled at her sister's gesture. He knew she was just putting the act of a responsible and mature person. That's why he wanted to continue teasing and pestering. Touko was older so she naturally assumed a guardian attitude towards him. The pink-haired Zweilt always treated of his injuries, went along with his selfish requests and never let one single tear escape from those virtuous eyes.
Yet, she was a girl. A sensitive maiden burdened to fight Duras as long as they existed. And every time they were on the battlefield, Tsukumo knew very well her moves were unconsciously drawn to him so any possible blow would be shielded, the damage falling on her. And he hated Touko for being this way. For caring too much about him to the point of ignoring her safety. And he wanted her to change. To realize he was stronger, more skilled and not a child anymore.
That's why he would act spoiled. And insistent. And demanding. But only to her. Only to his older sister Touko, because he is the younger brother after all. Because outside their own world, he vowed to protect her. He would never allow any harm reach her, any pain imprison her or any fleeting happiness escape.
Touko was the elder sister and Tsukumo the younger brother, But he would be the most tenacious, the bravest, the only one. So he can shelter the one he loved. Always.
- "Tsukumo? Are you sleeping?" - Touko arrived right after he had closed his eyes. He was lost in his thoughts so pretending to have fallen asleep wasn't that difficult.
The silver-haired Zweilt heard the sound of a metallic tray touching the small teak nightstand and the footsteps of someone leaving. The click of the door, the decreasing echo of the hard sole hitting the floor was sufficient to tell Touko left the room, hoping he would get some time to rest.
Silence. All that was left was silence. Tsukumo decided to open his eyes. There was a cup of water on the tray. And a small fish-shaped taiyaki[2].
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Senshirou wished Twilight Mansion wasn't so enormous, or had so many rooms or had so many halls. Everyone knew the Giou clan had a lot of power and possessed one of the greatest fortunes among all the renown families in Japan (and they probably had connections to others in various parts of the world as well as long, enduring and extensive business partnerships and ties) but the labyrinth which they were staying now seemed more irksome and irritating than anything else.
He had already run to the garden but no signs of Kuroto. He wasn't in any of the rooms, not even his own. The older Zweilt soon got tired and resigned to this cat and mouse game and went back to the garden, probably the only place where he knew no one would disturb or ask him questions he didn't want to answer. At least, not right now. Didn't Kuroto say he was going to water some plants?
It was a nice spring morning. The slight humidity in the air actually seemed to invite summer to stay. Senshirou contemplated the sky above him. It lacked the seven coloured bridge to be perfect. He wished he could just stretch his hand and paint one with his brush. But the sky was above him. Always above him. Like the thing he wanted the most. Unreachable and remote, so he would always long for it. Strive for it. Hope for it.
Maybe he shouldn't push himself so hard for those tiny and ephemeral joyous moments he knew he could live without. However, those were stolen fragments from time. Small puzzle pieces he joined carefully with one common element among them: Kuroto. Ahh… maybe he should go for a drive like Hotsuma had suggested.
He decided to wait a little longer in the garden. The morning dew still lingered on the small green leaves. Senshirou approached a rosebush. A black one. Among all the flowers available that was the one he loved the most. It reminded him of the katana wielder. He ran a finger through the droplets of water in the velvety petals, prickling carelessly in a thorn. It hurt. A warm trail of blood ran to his palm. Senshirou laughed instead of hissing. It sounded almost like a lament though. They really had the same temperament. Beautiful, enchanting, a dose of mystery involved and yet dangerously harmful with each step closer.
Or maybe not. On second thoughts, Kuroto was a weak poison, a toxic oleander, a vicious anthurium or even an opium flower, not potent enough to kill but compelling enough for you to get addicted and yearning, pleading for more of that excruciating bond of pain and relief you wish you'd be freed off but you won't let it go willingly because it's the best reward, the most aromatic honey your tongue ever had the opportunity to taste, no matter how your body is crumbling, piece by piece, rotten and decayed, the whole puzzle lost in his own difficulty, his own challenge, unable to find the right solution ever again.
Senshirou shook his head, tired of pitying himself. No use crying over spilled milk, that's what people always said. A stronger breeze blew in his direction, some fallen leaves and dust soaring to his feet. It was strong enough to brush away his insecurities too.
The death scythe Zweilt took a last glance over his surroundings. - "I'll be in my room Kuroto if you wish to find me." - A proper message with a proper sender and addressee but no proper mean to deliver it.
Kuroto observed a few meters away the retreating silhouette of his partner. He walked haltingly, as if he was shouldering a heavy weight unable to release it somehow. Maybe he really was. Being a Zweilt was not a role anyone could act. It was an indestructible innate bond they couldn't escape of. An official stamp, marking your duties of protecting God's Light. A burden to carry for all eternity.
Senshirou was born as free as any white cloud in the vast sky, his hands untied and his lower limbs sturdy enough to take him to any corner of the world's map. Yet, he assigned voluntarily that role for himself. What attracted him so much? Curiosity? Desire for revenge?
The black-haired fighter vowed not to forgive him for throwing away the privileged life he had. But he also knew he couldn't bring himself to fulfill this oath. That's why he would punish Senshirou for sacrificing himself and his well-being. For painting Piercing in my Darkness, that abstract apology. More than an apology, it was a confession, an approval of his choice, the ultimate no turning-back.
Therefore, he would continue to punish his partner for his stubborn and reckless attitude. The same way Kuroto would punish himself for being weak and incapable of restraining his decision of becoming a Zweilt, for indulging in that company and to be afraid of experiencing loneliness again.
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- "What are you writing?" - The katana wielder asked, his back leaning on the doorjamb.
Senshirou didn't need to look to know who was there. It wasn't for the tone of voice too. It was that unique, characteristic aura of his partner. - "Just brushing some kanji before my skills get rusty." - On the long white sheet of paper next to the older man's seiza figure was the character for sincerity - 誠 - the dark ink still drying on each firm and resolute brush movement.
His calligraphy was really beautiful and precise, each stroke flawlessly and gracefully imprinted in the rice paper. - "I think you won't have problems so soon."
Senshirou smiled while reposing carefully the brush at the trail near him in order not to stain his clothes or the floor, his hand slightly trembling either due to weariness or reasons unknown to the both of them.
Kuroto couldn't take his eyes off his partner. The older Zweilt was taller and robuster. His shoulders, although not so broad as any other adult, gave him the impression of an authentic secure and reliable protective wall. His deceptive glasses served more than just an instrument to improve his vision. It tricked others into believing to what extent his powers would go. The death scythe wielder's puce hair, much lighter than his own dark one, only reminded further of their differences. Surprisingly, both their hands shared the same scars, the same scraps of finished battles, the same remains of indelible trainings.
- "Is something wrong Kuroto?" - Senshirou got up, taking slow yet stringent and binding steps towards the shorter man, each movement almost inaudible like his own synchronized heartbeat - unable to hear but more real and current than any sense he was controlling (or trying to) that moment. A normal action he wouldn't be terrified of normally but after the hide and seek episode, his insecurities were accumulating.
- "Why did you hide it from me?" - Kuroto asked in an indifferent tone of voice, just as stranger asks for directions in an unknown town or the pre-recorded messages of some voicemail services.
- "Hid what?" - Senshirou knew perfectly well where their pseudo conversations would lead to. It was just another of his tricks, of his spontaneous schemes to prolong their moments together.
The katana wielder had spotted the feints even before they were partners. However, he would let the older student indulge in his assumed victories. - "Piercing in my Darkness. Do you think I wouldn't found out?"
The calligraphy lover stopped on his tracks, less than a meter away from his partner. He extended his hand only to withdraw it right away. - "Ahh… the painting. Did you like it?"
- "I hated it."
Senshirou smiled. Another lie to their daily conversations. It didn't hurt less, though. - "What did you particularly dislike?"
- "Everything. And…" - The younger man was finding some difficulties in finishing his thoughts, the words lost along the way.
- "And? " - The previous smile on the puce-haired man finally changed to a sincere one. - "And what?"
- "And…" - Why was he faltering precisely at that moment? He hasn't got the chance to see the painting yet but he swore he could almost spell out all the elements that award recognized ornament was composed of: every colour and its slightest nuances, the direction of each brushstroke and the emotion behind it, the passionate strength exercised in every one of them. He wished he could just ignore or understand less the struggling feelings leaking from the inked canvas. The tainted canvas. That was just his imagination, though. He hasn't seen the painting yet. - "And I still hate it."
- "I know. You hate that I'm continuing to play my persuasion games. You hate that I tell the truth. You hate the fact that you're being swept by this whole situation and losing the reigns you gripped so tightly."
Kuroto didn't want to admit any of those words; still, they sounded more like sharp needles piercing through his own crepuscule. - "Why are you challenging me?
- "What are you so afraid of then? - Senshirou took a deep breath. Would they always run in circles, unable to catch each other? Or was the road actually too dark, its murkiness so thick it resembled a barrier more than a fragile curtain easily blown by waft?
Kuroto just didn't know how to answer that question. He was interrogating himself too. - "Why move the general when the pawns are still lined up in defense?"
- "What happens when all the pawns are captured?" - They were talking at the entrance of the room. Anyone who happened to pass by would hear their banter.
- "Sacrifices are made." - Just like a match of shogi[3]. There are no wins without waiving something.
- "Have you started making yours?" - Senshirou was determined to go to the bottom, to get all the justifications he needed. That he deserved.
- "One of my pawns refuses to let me dirty my hands." - If his partner was unyieldingly chasing him, he wouldn't draw back.
- "If I were you, I would discard it." - The death scythe wielder smirked ironically, his eyes betraying his expression, a tenuous sorrow threatening to expose his fragile self.
- "I've tried. I've run out of ideas of how to, though." - Kuroto could utterly decipher the feelings of those eyes behind the glasses. How much more could he take before finally conceding?
- "And it is still around?"
- "I believe yes."
- "Maybe your methods weren't so efficient."
- "Maybe foolish stubbornness is beyond my control."
- "That too." - Senshirou whispered those words. The hand that was too afraid to reach the black-haired man before was now resting on his wrist, his delicate and smooth fingertips aching to make skin contact. Kuroto felt the coldness of the ring his partner wore in his pinky finger. It made his suddenly tightening, as if it was reacting to each other. - "Maybe the pawn is in love."
- "With the general's wife?"
- "Maybe. Or it is perhaps stealthily stealing glances of her husband and silently catching the occasional murmurs and solid orders that put others trembling to their feet, but to it are tiny intakes of life of the one it longed for."
- "Maybe it's confusing duty with affection."
- "Or the general refuses to accept it.
Kuroto found himself lost again in the labyrinth he had woven. Yes, he certainly refused to perceive his partner feelings. Did he have to always be so direct?
- "You said once that we need to share right? Do you want to see the painting?" - Senshirou no longer contented with the feathery touches he teasingly planted on the katana wielder's wrist before. He was now holding the hand which possessed the ring, their fingers interlaced, both metallic objects clashing against each other like they were trying to join and become a single one.
- "What for?" - The black-haired boy made a mental note to run away from that tense, imprisoning clasp, yet his body wouldn't obey. He no longer knew if he was controlling or being controlled.
- "It doesn't lie." - And got closer to his partner, their height's difference more outstanding to the eyes of a stranger. Senshirou's whole body reacted to their intimacy, losing a little of the strength he had gathered since the younger man ran from breakfast.
- "There's no need. I never doubted your feelings." - "I just can't forgive you… the same way I can't forgive myself." - Kuroto inadvertently averted his eyes only to feel a strange yet familiar coldness in his palm. He was so used to it before, but now, it didn't seem like a welcoming refuge anymore. Senshirou had let go of his hand.
- "The let me do more. Let me be by your side. And let yourself stay at mine." - Ahh… the university student's face was neither pained nor troubled. The smile wasn't fake or forced. His tone of voice had just risen to a scarcely higher pitch but there were so many emotions poured on it, the plea so powerful Kuroto thought he might grant his partner's wish this time. His mind was once again battling about what to do. The rationality he still had fighting with the new instincts he gained.
- "Foolish stubbornness, hum?" - The younger men lifted his face, their eyes staring at each other, both wanting to break the awkward silence surrounding them but hesitating.
Kuroto reconnected their hands. Ring to ring again. And kissed his partner. Maybe his instincts were trying to trick him. A huge prank. He just knew he wanted it.
Senshirou was caught by surprise. Thin, soft lips touched his, full of certainty and sweetness. Yes, deliciously sweet. Neither of them blushed, although the younger man's cheeks were tainted with a very light shade of pink, nor had they closed their eyes. The calligraphy lover's glasses were starting to get blurry. It was a contract kiss. One that sealed their unspoken but absolute bond. It wasn't fast and messy or painfully slow and clumsy. It wasn't arousing and enticing too. It was deliciously sweet.
- "Na Senshirou, I don't hate your painting." - Kuroto took his fingers to his mouth. His lips were redder and emanating a warmth he had long forgotten. The remains of their first kiss. Their hands were still together.
- "I know." - And this time he started that gentle caress. His free hand made way to the smaller man's dark hair, the lustrous linen strands tickling his skin. Senshirou wasn't trying to be possessive. He just wanted to make sure that moment was real.
Kuroto didn't refuse his partner, their lips interlocked again, both their breath teasing their faces, their bodies eager for contact. No demands, no more games. Senshirou intensified the kiss, his arm now on his partner back, supporting his weight as he tried to ask for more, to taste more of that deliciously sweet mouth. The katana wielder deliberately let himself lose in that caress which was getting more addicting with each second. His legs were trembling and threatening to give away. The older man sensing his shuddering pulled him towards his chest, applying more pressure on their lips. He smirked knowing there was no turning back. He was getting greedy.
- "Senshirou…" - Kuroto broke their kiss, gasping for some oxygen. He could feel the other Zweilt's heartbeat, his chest rising and collapsing in irregular intervals. - "… we are in the hall."
The puce-haired man nodded yet continued that intimate touch, dragging his partner along the way to his room and closing the door with a loud thud. Because that kiss was deliciously sweet. No one and nothing would disturb then. At least, not now.
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Shusei was wondering to where the God's Voice was taking him. They were together, bound in a car borrowed from the Giou Clan's leader (actually Tachibana promised Hotsuma he would lend him a heirloom automobile if he took his driving classes seriously, which he did indeed) and was already (Shusei glanced at his small silver watch) 44 minutes since they left Twilight Mansion. Both Zweilt were away from the urbanized areas and trees, tall and statuesque branches invaded by celadon and moss green stained leaves embraced them. It was still noon yet the whole road was had no sign of direct sunlight. It wasn't dark too though shadowy.
For someone who had gotten his driving license in less than a couple of months, Hotsuma surely managed the wheel as he liked it. A little faster than the stipulated speed, nevertheless. Shusei had his eyes fixed on the outside. Ferns, more fern bushes and other plants he couldn't identify (botanic was never his strong subject too). The window was hardly opened but it was enough to dishevel his chocolate brown hair. Sensing the scenery and almost uniform landscape, the God's Eyes peeked at the speedometer: almost 70km/h.
- "You'll get us killed someday." - The older Zweilt murmured those words, a hint of teasing in his voice. He trusted his safety, his well-being, his life to Hotsuma. Nothing feared him, knowing his partner would always come to his rescue. Although he certainly would be fined in a public road, Shusei felt perfectly safe and guarded on the passenger's seat.
- "A little adventure won't harm." - The Masterstroke wielder sported a grin and a contagious nonchalant, high-spirited attitude; his partner couldn't help but think it was all part of his childishness. - "Besides, it's not every day that you have such a fine machine, such an obedient lady at your hands letting you have your way with her, just as you wish and desire." - Hotsuma spared a glance to his companion, his grin slowly leaving his face.
- "Obedient lady, hum? If I didn't know you I would say you found a new lover." - His finger brushed flippantly the leather dashboard, as he was petting a new toy. - "I might get jealous." - Shusei chuckled, seeing the younger male getting paler.
- "You know I won't betray you, right? Na, Shusei?" - The God's Voice swallowed hard at the apparent awkward silence. The unnoticed radio was now louder than any other noise. He also reduced the speed of the car.
- "Who knows?" - And left the answer floating through the corpuscular and infinite particles of air between them, daring someone to grasp it and hopefully still get the original intact reply.
Shusei glanced again at his watch like it was already part of his routine to check for the time every now and then or just to hide that feeling of being at a loss of words. Since when did he become so playful towards other people? After meeting Yuki, their most important element in battle, their secret weapon, and the God's Light had risked his life to save him from Ashley's clutches?
The present he was like a new person, not born from a safe womb, surrounded by warm and gentle affections but risen from the ashes, a bond of trust pulling him from the pit and gripping his whole body like fire burning and scorching, more and more intense without ceasing, over and over again. And it felt good. It felt marvelous to spread his wings and embrace the engulfing flames that caressed him to the very core. It made him feel alive. The docile tickling of his heart against his ribcage was a new sensation just as his lungs expanding and collapsing in a rhythm he had never bothered to listen before.
Shusei stopped playing with the lavish dashboard and returned to his original position, quietly seated, the secure and unyielding seatbelt less constrained yet unwilling to give more freedom. The vigorous breeze that penetrated through the minimal draft he had left open for some fresh air disheveled his hair and it rebelled to return to its neat state.
- "Shusei? We're almost there." - The huge grin went back to Hotsuma lips, as if all the talk they had before was already forgotten. He let his childish side appear anon and enthusiasm filled his senses, each one of them awakening with more and excitement.
- "Are you trying to desert me?" - Oh the fun of teasing his partner. Maybe it wasn't Yuki who changed him after all. Nor it was his hot-blooded and fiery Zweilt companion with his unsophisticated and immature (still very endearing) gestures, unfinished fights and plain, straight words. It was himself all along.
The God's Eyes was the one who desired and plead for this metamorphosis, to become someone worthy of loving who he was. And loving Hotsuma. And letting the younger man love him. Shusei smiled to himself at this new persona with which he identified so much. He had accomplished somehow this goal, although it was just the beginning. He would continue to conquer more land from now on, little by little.
- "Shusei? You're walking on clouds today." - Maybe he was.
The older Zweilt was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice the landscape had changed.
- "Look outside! - Hotsuma pointed towards some trees, his hand moving up and down in a fast motion, like a child unable to name something due to lack of vocabulary.
Shusei obeyed his companion and directed his vision to where his partner's finger hinted. He could hear a faint sound of water running, probably near where the car was parked. Perhaps a stream was a few meters away. That serene melody was drawing him, pulling him from that restrained seat, an enigmatic hypnosis taking control of his senses. As he unfastened the seatbelt and prepared to leave the car, Hotsuma placed his previously frantic hand in his thigh, earning a barely noticeable shudder from the older Zweilt.
- "Wait! You'll miss the best part." - The orange haired man leaned forward, his face almost touching Shusei's one.
The sudden proximity between them momentarily distracted the God's Eyes from his music. It was impossible not to stare at Hotsuma's refined features, a bridge between a young boy and an adult, his piercings being a proof of his rebel personality. The hand in his leg, the soft touch seemed to emanate some kind of heat he could feel through his jeans. Was he getting anxious?
A brusque jolt of a nearby shrub caught his attention. Hotsuma's grip intensified, hurting his lower limb. A pair of foxes came out, one clearly smaller but nevertheless vigilant of all surroundings. Their fur was of a darker orange compared to the younger Zweilt's hair.
Shusei couldn't a laugh this time. - "You're really a child." - It was a rare sight to see that kind of animal but he still found his partner's excitement quite amusing.
The quiet dormant hand moved upward, the fingertips tracing a faintly path over the brunette's torso, more like tickling, caressing the exposed pale skin of his neck in circular motions. - "Maybe a child will not do this." - And kissed him with a crushing, bruising strength. Shusei felt uncomfortable, his front teeth pressing against the sensitive flesh. He tried to push his partner away, only to have both his wrists pinned right next to his head. When did he start being so possessive? It didn't take long before Hotsuma released his lips, a red stain visible. He was also experiencing a metallic taste in his mouth.
- "That was absolutely childish." - Shusei reprimanded Hotsuma, although he felt a rush of adrenaline run through his veins, his heart beating in an unusual rhythm. He wondered if his partner could feel it.
Hotsuma licked the blood on his own bruised lips and smirked. He knew the God's Eyes was actually enjoying it, those small frail wrists trembling timidly. - "So you prefer an adult's kiss then?" - The orange haired man released both his partner hands and licked the sore, red spots where his grip was a moment ago, alternating with quick kisses.
- "You know, being molested isn't on my plans today." - And pushed the younger Zweilt back to the driver seat. His fingers had lost most of his strength yet he still grabbed the other leather jacket and kissed him back this time, less forceful, less carnal, but more demanding, more craving. Hotsuma unfastened his seatbelt and helped Shusei sit on his lap, straddling him. Both their tongues met in a fiercely encounter; both of them wanted the victory; both of them wanted each other. The foxes were long forgotten.
- "Was this more adultlike?" - The orange haired man counterattacked although gasping for some air, satisfied with the pink tone his partner's cheeks had become. His hand invaded Shusei's back, teasing him with gentle touches and placing more kisses on the firm scars he unintentionally painted on that lusty skin.
Shusei played with the God's Voice strands of wild hair, massaging his scalp. He had to suppress a moan when he felt a hard bulge against his. He was losing his sanity, unable to tell if it was really a hot day or was he that felt like burning. His hands travelled downwards, unbuckling his lover's pretentious jeans (which were denying him access to what his body yearned for) and brushed along the length, from the tip to the base, the heat clouding his thoughts further.
Hotsuma moaned loudly, trying his best not to ravish the older Zweilt right there. He took his time to prepare Shusei for the better fun that both of them were anticipating, even though he was on the verge of coming with the skilled ministrations he was receiving. The God's Voice raised his head for another kiss.
The God's Eyes knew he could wait no longer, his underwear wet and his manhood painfully confined in his, now much more bounding, jeans.
- "Shusei… I want you… so much…" - He wanted to enter him. He wanted to feel that unique warmth, that unbearable tightness. He wanted to make love to him.
The older Zweilt was thinking the same. Yet, his mind wasn't able to find the right words, less voice them. He stopped his hand, his lustful gaze denouncing what he had planned. Stripping his unfriendly jeans, Shusei positioned himself and rode the younger man. The pain and pleasure together was agonizingly sweet and so hot he would literally melt.
Both men moaned, their unrestrained cries more like an improvised tune, sung in perfect unison and harmony. - "So… this your… definition of… adult…" - Hotsuma babbled in the mist of kisses and caresses. He didn't understand why their bodies were so compatible but he certainly would never get tired of this carnal need. He wanted more. So much more. To the point of no return. He couldn't live without Shusei.
- "Shut… humm… up…" - It didn't took long for both of them to come, the Masterstroke wielder's seed filling him to the core while his tainting both their torsos.
The Sun was high in the sky. The wind seemed to have weakened and the gentle breeze was almost non-existent now. The water still ran on the stream, polishing the immovable rocks on the way.
- "We should go home now. It's almost time for lunch." - Shusei glanced at his watch. He didn't want to leave that place though. Or his lover's embrace.
- "We better clean the car first." - Hotsuma joked as he placed a chaste kiss on the God's Voice forehead.
The Sun was high in the sky. The wind seemed to have strengthened again and the gentle breeze was sweeping the fallen leaves. It was a perfect spring morning.
1 - Daifuku: small round mochi normally with red bean filling (anko);
2 - Taiyaki: Japanese fish shaped cake with sweet filling (red beans, custard or chocolate usually);
3 - Shogi: Japanese chess. Please check Wikipedia for more information (I only know how to play Go… xD) ^^