Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Under the Ice ❯ Surfacing ( Chapter 1 )

Under the Ice

Part One: Surfacing

By: Vain 7.31.2001

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I don't own Digimon, or any of the characters pertaining to it. The song "Angels" is track number 11 on Stroke 9's album Nasty Little Thoughts and is the property of and copyrighted to the band Stroke 9 and King Nummy Publishing (BMI). Please note: this story is a Yamaken / Kanato and contains yoai, shounen-ai, themes of suicide, and a fresh lemon flavor, meaning-NC-17. Don't like: don't read, don't flame.

Also, this is my very first lemon, so PLEASE Review.

~ Vain

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It had been two weeks since they released him. Two long, guilt-ridden weeks.

Yamato sighed and ran a hand through his hair. But now there he was: sitting over there on the couch, alone in a crowded room and absorbing everything going on around him without really caring. The gauntlet-like bandages around his arms were hidden by his navy blue Tamachi vest, but a bit of hospital white peeked out above the sleeves. Daisuke, now once more attached to his hip, was gesticulating wildly, trying to shake the indigo-haired boy out of the emotionless place where he had resided for the past few months. How did this happen? Flat blue-violet eyes rose and attached themselves to ice blue ones and Yama quickly looked down at the glass he was washing. He knew that Ken hated to be watched.

He sighed again. His head was spinning slightly. Maybe drinking all that Sake hadn't been such a good idea . . .

This wouldn't have happened three years ago. Three years ago, Daisuke would have noticed something was wrong. Three years ago, Hikari would have felt the darkness surging within him again. Three years ago . . . What? Yamato dried the glass carefully. He felt like this was his fault. He should have made an effort; they all should have.

But the older Digidestined had never sought to make contact with the former despot. They never had to. Jyou and Taichi were still angry with him for the way he had abused their partners-not that Yama blamed them. If it had Gabumon, he probably would have strangled Ichijouji with his own whip, redeemed or not. Sora and Mimi just avoided him. Mimi didn't seem to have anything against him, but if Yamato hadn't known Sora better, he would have said that the Child of Love was afraid of him. Koushiro had an . . . odd relationship with the younger genius that he didn't really understand. There was some sort of rivalry going on there.

The second-generation kids had tried, some harder than others, but it hadn't been enough. The only one he was even remotely close to was Daisuke. Daisuke was all he had. Maybe I'd try to kill myself, too, Yama thought humorlessly.

The others were leaving now, packing up their things and going. They all filed past as they said their good-byes, some steadier than others. Mimi was almost falling on top of Sora.

"Nice party."

"Nice Sake!"

"Thank you for having us."

"We just have to do this again!"

"Umm, thanks, Yamato."

"Dinner was great."

"See ya in school, Yama."

"We'll see you tomorrow!"

"Prodigious gathering."

"You two have fun this weekend."

Yamato nodded and made the proper commentary where needed.

Takeru paused and detached himself from Hikari. "You alright, Yama?"

"Yeah." The elder brother submerged the glass in water and pulled it out again. "I'm just tired."

"It just couldn't be all that Sake, now could it?" his little brother taunted. Yamato said nothing and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "It was a good party." TK tilted his head to the side. "Will you be okay this weekend . . . you know, with Ken and, well, everything?"

"Yah. I can handle it." Yamato smiled and closed his eyes in remembrance. "Daisuke absolutely grilled me this afternoon. He was even worse than Ken's parents."

TK chuckled. "Yeah. He can be . . . intense sometimes. See ya tomorrow, Yama."

"Bye, TK."

Daisuke was one of the last to go. "You have the list and the numbers and everything, right?"

Yamato lifted an eyebrow. His buzz was definitely wearing off-nope, worn off. "He'll be fine, Dai. He's not made of glass."

The other boy eyed him dubiously. "Okay, just-"

The older boy put the glass in the sink, walked over to Daisuke, and firmly placed his hands on the soccer player's shoulder. "Daisuke. Go. Home. He'll be fine."

A few more warnings, assurances and protests later, Daisuke was out the door. Yamato closed his eyes and sighed.

"You really shouldn't be letting all the air out of your body like that, Yama."

"Huh?" the blond teen looked up in surprise. "I thought that you left already."

Taichi grinned for a brief moment then and sat down on the table. "Without saying goodbye to my Yama-chan?" The smile relaxed into a look of concern. "What's wrong?"

A shrug. "Nothing. Everything. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know." Tai picked up a knickknack and began to twirl it idly in his hands. "Maybe it's because of all that drinking you did. Maybe because this is the fourth time you've washed that glass. What do you think?"

Yamato looked down at the object in his hands and then rinsed it. He set it in the dish drain. After drying his hands, he walked over to the table and pulled out a chair next to his friend. He wrapped his arms around himself.

The first leader of the Digidestined frowned. "Cold?"

"I'm always cold, Taichi." It was true. The only time Yamato ever felt even remotely warm was when he was either with his friends or on stage. Other than that, he had had a chill in his bones ever since he looked into that lake in the Digital World . . .

"This isn't your fault, you know," Taichi offered.

"Hmm? What makes you think that I think it is?"

The original goggle-boy snorted and waved a hand. "I know you, Ishida Yamato. Just because you have the Crest of Friendship doesn't make you super human."

"I should have tried harder." The shorter boy looked away uncomfortably. It's not like I have anything against him, but I just . . . I don't know. We're drifting apart, you know." He looked back up at his friend. "This is the first time we've all been together since his last Christmas party."

Tai nodded in understanding. "You're right. Jyou and I were talking about that the other night."

Yama smirked suddenly. "So how is your boy?"

A goofy grin pasted itself across the other's face and his eyes grew distant. "Things are . . . good. He's waiting outside." He looked down into his friend's ice-blue eyes. "I'm really happy."

Yamato smiled and found his eyes sliding back to Ken. The boy was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and his head down, indigo hair a shimmering curtain hiding his face. Tai followed his gaze and then leaned down next to his friend conspiratorially. "He is pretty, though."

"Whu-"

"Oh, come on, Yama!" Tai laughed as the other boy blushed furiously. "Do you think I miss those cow-eyed looks you keep throwing his way?"

"Tai! I do not-"

"Yes. Yes, you do."

A mock glare was leveled at the wild-haired brunette. "I don't even know him. Besides, that's not what you're here to talk about."

"I don't know." Tai picked up on the sudden change of emotion. "Maybe this is what we needed to get our acts together."

"Yes, I'm sure that the next time we fall apart, we can just have Ken slit his wrists again. That'll fix it."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know . . . Sorry."

"It's cool. So what exactly is up with you two this weekend?" Tai looked at his friend curiously. "He's crashing here?"

Yamato nodded. "His parents are going away to some big . . . thing," he waved his hands vaguely, "and Dai has his soccer tournament coming up and the shrink says that he shouldn't be left alone. Besides, I volunteered."

"Ah," he nodded and grinned knowingly. "So are you going to have your wicked way with him tonight?"

"Taichi!"

Taichi was surprised to see Yamato stand and return to the little kitchenette in a huff. A quick glance in the living room told him that the genius in question had vanished to elsewhere in the apartment. Tai turned and then blinked, looking at his now-furious friend in dismay. "This really has you strung out, doesn't it?"

"It's not funny, Taichi!" the other teen hissed in fury. "What if he had heard you? The kid is chronically depressed-"

"You mean clinically?"

An icy glare. "Clinically depressed, he just tried to kill himself twice over, and you don't even know if he's . . . that way, and you're still running at the mouth about . . . stuff."

Tai regarded his friend with a worried frown. "He is."

"What?"

Ice-blue eyes pinned him to the wall and the goggle-boy shifted uncomfortably. "A moment of indiscretion with Dai. They didn't do anything," he added quickly when he saw pain spasm over his friend's face. "He just said something about it when Dai was singing his endless praises of Wallace a little while back."

Yamato pulled a plate out of the sink and began to wash it in smooth, even circles. He looked at anything but Taichi. "And?"

"And what . . .?"

"You know what I mean, Taichi."

Tai pulled away from a glare, hands raised defensively. "Well what do you want me to say? Repression is that kid's whole life story." Yamato lifted an eyebrow and Tai shrugged. "He's a perfectionist. And his parents would not approve."

"Really?"

"Really."

They were quiet for a few minutes and Tai grabbed a dishtowel and began to dry the dishes. He was the first to break the silence. "He doesn't bite, ya know."

"What?" Yama handed him a bowl and frowned in confusion. "Just what are suggesting I do?"

Tai accepted the dish and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Oh gods! Talk to him! He needs to know that someone cares. Someone other than Dai."

"…"

Tai hid a smile. "The dishes can wait, Yama."

~~*~~

Drowning is a terrible way to die, but drowning under ice is even worse.

All that matters is reaching the surface-breaking through to the other side and sucking in just one single beautiful breath of air.

And then you're pounding at the bottom of the ice, beating your fists and fervently praying to every god you ever knew

-whether or not you're religious-

that someone will hear you or see you and come to your rescue.

If you're lucky someone comes.

But by then you're almost out of air and you're so, so very tired. You can't think anymore. You can't fight.

You let out that last gasp and water invades your body, almost violating you in its eagerness.

But at that point, you don't care. So you just let go and close your eyes.

And suddenly dying isn't all that bad.

Then something somewhere between a miracle and a disaster happens.

Through a sweet haze of black, you hear the boiling sound of air breaking the surface of the ice.

You can see light . . . somewhere, somewhere remote and far, far away.

Then a something grabs you, not the angry, possessive stroke of the cold, but something real and hard, the clutch of heat-essence.

And gods, it feels good.

You're still in that haze, cold black taffy wrapped around yourself,

but that touch, that painfully human grip, starts to pull you out.

It reaches into the depths of your very soul and brushes against every vibrant, hungry part of you that the cold killed, and makes you want to scream.

It makes your soul want to arch its back into that touch and beg like a shameless wanton.

It makes you want to wake up. But you just can't.

Then you're moving, no, flying. You're flying through the water, up, and up, and up.

Nothing can touch you, nothing can hurt you, nothing can ever reach you again.

It's utter freedom. It's love in your soul. It's like touching the face of God.

And you simply exist like that for an amazing forever that can't have been more than a second.

Then a new cold flails the skin off your back and you're born again-

torn from a bitter cold womb of water and ice.

So there you lay on the surface, still tangled in your dark taffy dream,

sobbing and gasping-brought back into a frozen world without your consent or desire,

a trembling infant all alone.

~~*~~

If it's not that far from where we are

I'd like to wait if I could

Until the day that the angel comes around

I won't find the solace that I'm seeking

Yamato found Ken in his bedroom staring out the window. It was nearly dark and the younger boy had neglected to turn on the lights. His slim form was silhouetted in the hazy post-sunset and the white bandages wrapped around his forearms seemed to glow a sickeningly pale light. "You're brooding," he chided as he entered the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Ken turned slightly and lifted one delicate eyebrow in the steel gray twilight. Yamato shrugged. "I know the symptoms."

"And you're drunk," came the cold response.

Yama merely shrugged. He waved a hand in front of his face. "Tipsy. And fading fast. I know the symptoms."

Ken smiled with a touch of wistfulness.

"So what's wrong?" the musician asked as he entered the room. His head was beginning to clear up and he could tell that the other boy was troubled.

You can't make me run, you can't make me free

The only thing I trust is what's inside of me

Ken shrugged and turned back to the window. "I don't know. The same thing that's always wrong with me, I guess. Are the others all gone?"

"Yes." By now Yamato had moved until he was standing slightly behind Ken. He was so close that he could feel the heat the other boy radiated.

Dai was right, the blond thought absently. Once, Daisuke had told him that whenever Ken was really upset, the former despot had the extremely peculiar habit of radiating heat. 'It's like standing next to the sun,' the second goggle-boy had reported. 'All that intensity, everything that Ken keeps in, all of it starts leaking out of him. He kinda scares me when he's like that. It makes you remember who he was-what he's capable of.' Yamato leaned into that heat; it forced the chill from his bones and he craved more of it.

If Ken noticed the sudden reduction in their proximity, he said nothing. "Your father will be back in a few days?"

"Yeah, but I'm used to taking care of myself. His station is working on some great big field investigation and he absolutely had to be on the scene or something."

The boy shivered slightly and crossed his arms, back still turned to Yamato. "It must be nice."

"Hmm?" Yama blinked and tried to take his mind off the young furnace in front of him and concentrate on his words. Ken smelled like juniper.

"Not having your parents around constantly. Hovering." A sharp emphasis was placed on the last word. It was filled with something akin to disgust.

Yama started, briefly pulling away from that beautiful heat. He cocked his head to the side. "Do you really feel that way about them?"

Ken looked away from the window down at the floor, an expression like a thoughtful pout gracing his face in the dying light. He sighed softly, more a breath than anything else, and closed his eyes with a shrug.

If I rely on you what am I gonna do

When you crush and kill the core connecting us

Protecting us, in all we go through

Suddenly a strong arm wound around his waist and he could feel Yamato pressed tight against him. Ken stiffened, but didn't pull away. His voice was slightly hoarse and uncertain of itself. "What are you doing, Ishida?"

"I'm cold, Ken."

Is this my conviction… will it last forever?

He felt himself relaxing in the other's embrace. "What are you doing?"

Yamato leaned down and gently grazed the back of younger teen's neck with his lips. Ken shivered. "I'm always so cold, Ken."

Abruptly the genius pulled away and whirled around. Suspicious clouded his features and his lips were set into a tight, unforgiving line. His pupils were fully dilated to the encroaching darkness, reducing his irises to sapphire slivers that shone like gems. Pale hands came to rest on the windowsill and Ken settled back against the cool glass. He realized that he was trapped between the wall and his host, but somehow that didn't disturb him. The fact that his host was quite visibly aroused also did not disturb him. He found this phenomenon curious . . . and . . . exciting.

Yamato tried to even out his breathing. His conscience was telling him that Ken was hurting and vulnerable, and this was the worst possible time to do this. He was taking advantage of the boy. His mind was telling him that if he didn't do this now, he might never have the courage or opportunity to do it again. His heart and his body were telling him that he wanted this more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life. The majority was winning.

Ken was watching him carefully, head slightly to the side. Yama wished that he could read those unfathomable eyes. Daisuke claimed that Ken's eyes always showed exactly what was going on inside him. The Child of Courage and Friendship could read his jogress partner like a book. To Yamato, the Child of Kindness might as well have been written in Greek.

So sad and hard it hurts for a while

I feel it all… stop feeding off me

Don't ask me how you will survive

Or try to stay together amputated

Ken lifted an eyebrow expectantly and Yama shivered as the cold set in again. The younger teen appeared to be waiting for something.

Yamato licked his lips nervously. "Have you ever been kissed?"

His hair shimmered as the boy cocked his head sharply to the side. "No."

Yamato stepped forward cautiously, the way one approaches a startled hare. "Do you want to be?" Step.

"… You don't know me, Ishida."

"That isn't what I asked you." Another step. "Do you want to be?" Another step.

Ken looked hard at the older teen. "Yes."

If it's not that far from where we are

I'd like to wait if I could

Until the day that the angel comes around

I won't find the solace that I'm seeking

Yamato took a step back as Ken suddenly lunged forward with his hands clenched at his side. He moved forward and up until his lips gently pressed against Yamato's, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The Child of Friendship stood frozen for a brief instant and the two of them stayed like that. He could feel heat rolling off of the younger boy in waves. Then he gingerly wrapped his arms around Ken's waist. The slim body trembled in his arms and he gently drew Ken close.

Yama opened his mouth slightly, a hand tugging Ken's shirt free from the waistband of his pants and sliding upwards to discover the smooth skin beneath. His tongue brushed against Ken's lips in feather-light strokes and the boy obediently opened his mouth. A slim, fine boned hand, a musician's hand, buried itself in silky indigo tresses and pulled the pale boy's head back, deepening the kiss.

Is it my conviction… will it last forever?
Do I belong to this?

His tongue lightly grazed the tips of neat, even teeth, brushing against the warm silk insides of Ken's cheek. A vibration slid through both their bodies when a moan tore itself from the younger one's mouth and was lost in Yamato's. He pulled Ken closer with renewed urgency.

Still holding the boy's head back with one hand, the eager mouth moved down to the waiting neck, gently sucking and nipping at the smooth flesh. The hand sliding beneath Ken's shirt moved with blind need, working in tight hungry circles. Ken gasped when Yamato suckled the hollow of his throat and a small bruise blossomed.

"Yama . . ."

"Shh," he whispered against the pale skin. "Shh."

Is it my conviction… will it last forever?
Do I belong to this?

Ken's heartbeat fluttered in his neck and Yamato licked at the palpitating skin slowly, savoring the salt-water taste of the gradually forming sweat. He slowly maneuvered his young lover over to the bed, blue eyes scanning for something. There was a bottle of lotion on the foot of the bed.

A whimper escaped Ken. "Oh . . ."

The musician reluctantly separated himself from the other and quickly pulled Ken's shirt over his head. His own followed soon after. He pushed the boy down onto the bed, straddled his hips and paused, drinking in the sight before him. Ken's long hair was splayed against the white pillow like a shimmering black halo. Tiny beads of sweat were forming on his exposed skin, making it shine dully. The skin itself was like soft ivory, hot, white, and smooth. He ached to feel it. To taste it.

"Oh, gods . . . You are so beautiful."

If it's not that far from where we are

I'd like to wait if I could

Until the day that the angel comes around

I won't find the solace

Ken looked up at him through lust-lidded eyes, breath coming in deep gasps. Yamato wondered if he was aware of what was happening. It didn't really seem all that important. All that mattered was Ken. And Ken was right here beneath him. Waiting for him.

With an almost painful moan, the older boy lunged down and claimed Ken's passion-swollen lips in a savage and demanding kiss. Ivory arms wound their way around him and strong hands grasped his shoulders and sharp nails dug into his skin, pulling him downwards. Ken's hands were smooth and eager and the bandages around his arms were rough and abrasive. The combined sensations were making the musician dizzy. He bit at Ken's lower lip, earning him the tangy taste of blood and a whimper of need and pain.

"Please…ah!"

Mine, the thought slid through Yamato's overheated brain. This is mine now!

He began to drag kisses down his jaw and throat and to his chest, busy hands intent on touching every available inch of skin. He licked at the sensitive skin surround a nipple, sucking eagerly at the hardened disc. Ken gasped and bucked slightly beneath him.

"Please . . . oh, gods, please."

Yama drew his tongue over to the other side and treated the other, neglected nipple in a similar fashion.

"A-ahh! Oh . . . Mmm."

The older boy smiled at the sounds his efforts were eliciting and moved his lips downward, never once breaking contact. His hands followed the downward path and began to touch Ken through the fabric of his pants. All the physical contact was driving him mad and his growing erection throbbed painfully with the force of his need. He pause briefly at his lover's demure little bellybutton and kissed it, quickly dipping his tongue in and out.

Ken yelped and jerked up sharply. Yamato smiled evilly and quickly placed a restraining hand over his hips, pinning him to the bed. He then proceeded to fuck Ken's bellybutton with his tongue, fast and hard.

The boy whimpered and writhed beneath him, moaning his name and babbling mindlessly. He struggled like a cat and Yama nearly came just knowing that he was the one doing this. That he was driving the famous former dictator beyond reason with nothing more than his tongue.

"Ah! Oh gods, Yama . . . Please!"

Don't try to make me love, 'cause you can't make me see

The only time I'll know is when happiness is free

Abruptly, just when it looked like Ken might come, he stopped his ministrations. Taking the whimpering youth's face in both hands, Yama leaned down showered him with butterfly kisses. "Not yet, love," he murmured between kisses. "Not yet. You are mine now, you hear me? Mine."

"Yes," Ken nodded, blind in his need. "Please, Yama. Please," he begged.

Satisfied, Yamato sat up and began to undo Ken's pants. He hesitated a moment and watched the younger boy's hips pump up and down in fascination. His arousal surged at the erotic sight. "Oh, Ken . . ."

Suddenly impatient, he jerked Ken's pants down and pulled them off. He tugged viciously at the white briefs beneath, causing a groan from the boy beneath him when his erection was freed and the cool air surrounded him. He then tore off his own pants and kicked his underwear off somewhere in the darkness.

"Roll over," he ordered; turning the boy over to be certain he obeyed.

Ken moaned when his penis came in contact with the sheets and began to rub himself against the bed, desperate to find relief. A firm arm wrapped around his waist and lifted him up to his knees. Yamato pressed his arousal into Ken's backside and wrapped a hand around Ken's dick, squeezing the hard organ. "No, love. Mine, remember? You. Are. Mine."

Ken bit his lip and groaned, pressing his body back into the older boy. "Please." He was nearly sobbing now.

The musician released his lover and picked up the lotion. He poured some of it in his hand and coated three of his fingers in it. "Bend over," he commanded.

The boy obeyed.

"This might hurt a little."

Without waiting for a response he slid one finger deep into Ken's body and looped the other arm around his waist to be sure he couldn't escape. Ken yelped in pain and tried to draw away from the invasion, but was trapped by that restraining arm.

"Shh," Yama whispered. He began to rock their bodies back and forth as he thrust his finger in and out of the hole. Ken cried out as a second finger was inserted. The motion continued and a third finger was added, gently stretching him. A soft whimpering alerted Yamato to the fact that Ken was crying and he grimaced and removed his fingers. There really wasn't any nice way to do this now. After carefully coating himself, Yama pulled himself up to his knees, took a deep breath, and thrust his penis deep into Ken.

Yamato's head snapped back and he bit his lip. Ken's body wrapped around him tight and hot, sending fingers of fire trailing up and down his spine. It was taking all of his effort not to just give up and fuck the younger teen through the floor. The boy was trembling in his arms and he leaned down so that his chest covered his lover's back.

I won't rely on you…

'Cause that won't get me through

"Shh," he whispered, laying soothing kisses on his back. "Shh. Please don't cry, love. Please don't cry. Please don't. Oh, God. You're so beautiful. So gorgeous. Please don't cry . . ."

He continued to do this until the boy's tears stopped and Ken turned his head so that he could look back at the Child of Friendship. Yama bit his lip at the sight of the tears shining in those blue-violet orbs. He felt a pang of regret cut through his lust. "Do you want to stop?" he asked.

The genius shook his head.

"Do you want to keep going?"

Ken nodded again and a shaky smile crossed his face. His voice was barely audible. "I'm okay now." He grunted slightly and pushed himself back, taking in a bit more of Yama's length. "I want you in me. I want more."

Yama grinned, his arousal reawakened by Ken's motion, began to stroke his lover's flagging cock with the hand wrapped around his waist. "You want more?"

Ken groaned and Yama began to slowly move himself in and out of his body. "You want more?"

Their bodies rocked back and forth with the motion. Ken whimpered. "Please . . ."

"Tell me."

"Ah . . . More! Please, Yama!"

Yamato began to increase the pace, his hand keeping tempo around Ken's erection. He was panting. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Ohh! Yes!" The boy rose up to meet his thrusts. "Yes!"

"Tell me! Ah!" He pushed himself in deep, all the way up to the hilt, striking the sweet spot. Ken cried out and dug his nails into the fabric of the sheets. "Tell me!"

"Yamato! Oh, gods . . . Uh! Fuck me, fuck me, Yama!"

"Ah, yeah! Ken. Mmn. Damnit . . . Ken!" Yamato pulled himself up and thrust down again, causing another stream of mindless babble to tear free of Ken's lips. He pulled almost entirely out and dove again. And again. And again. Spots danced in front of his eyes and every sensation went straight to his throbbing arousal. The entire world seemed to blur together until the only things that mattered were him, his lover, and the incredible heat they shared. And all of it spun into the impossible feeling of riding Ken.

He could hear the boy crying out beneath him. Ken was going to lose it soon. Pressure was building up behind his eyes and he pulled back and slammed himself into the smaller boy's body hard. His fist clenched shut around Ken's cock and a violent shudder wracked the indigo-haired boy and he screamed as he came.

"YAMA!" Passion exploded from the youth in an inglorious spray of white and violent shivers. Deep within his body, his muscles clenched tight around Yamato's erection and the blond musician shook and came with a stuttered groan.

"Uh!" He thrust into the boy twice more, driven more by instinct and momentum than anything else, and then carefully withdrew from Ken's body.

All we've got is this crazy core connecting us

Protecting us from all we'll go through.

He collapsed onto the bed next to the other teen and pulled him into a protective embrace, briefly planting a kiss on his sweaty indigo hair. Ken snuggled up against him and pressed his face into the slope of Yama's neck. They lay like that for several moments, trembling like infants.

Ken pulled away and looked up at the older boy through sweaty strands of hair. "Still cold?"

Yamato smiled briefly and leaned down to claim the other's lips in a surprisingly chaste kiss. He pulled back, his voice husky with passion and exhaustion. "Roll over and wait here."

"But-"

A single finger pressed against his swollen lips. "Wait. Here." The blond teen rose and left the room.

A dark frown marred Ken's face, but he rolled over onto his belly and waited. He didn't have to wait long. After a few moments of movement, light pressure tickled Ken's back and he felt a dull ache shoot up his back when the other boy gently spread his cheeks.

"Yama-"

"I just need to check to see if you're hurt."

Ken bit his lips and held still as a warm damp clothe was run over his skin, gently bathing him. "Get up for me?"

"Didn't I already do that?"

The blond head snapped up, surprised to hear the moody boy joke. For his part, the other boy merely rose to his feet with a slight grimace and some unaccustomed stiffness and watched with amusement as the soiled sheets were striped off the bed and replaced with amazing speed and efficiency.

"Lie down." Yama ordered.

Still looking amused, the Tamachi-born genius obeyed. A gasp wracked his frame when the clothe in the older boy's firm hand ran over his relaxed organ, cleaning him off in one swift stroke. His penis twitched with renewed interest. Yama shot him a hungry leer and wiped him off again, slowly and much more thoroughly this time. The younger boy lifted his hips up slightly, but was slightly disappointed when Yama stopped and climbed into bed next to him.

The blond wrapped his arms around Ken and pulled the boy close till they were spooned together. "You alright?"

"Better than alright." Pale arms wrapped around slightly tanned ones and the younger boy tried to bury himself in the other's embrace. "Why did you do this?" he asked suddenly.

Behind him he felt Yamato stiffen. "You didn't want to? You didn't enjoy yourself?"

"No . . . I wanted it-maybe I even needed it. But why? I thought you hated me." He held his breath then, afraid of the response he might get.

Is it my conviction… will it last forever?
Do I belong to this?

"I don't hate you, Ken. I . . . I wanted you. I have for a while now."

"So what happens now?"

The arms wrapped around Ken tightened. "Can't we just stay like this?"

"And tomorrow?"

"That's what I was talking about."

"… And the others?"

Yamato shifted their positions so that he could look the other boy in the eye. "This is about us-not them. I want to be with you. What do you want?"

Indigo eyes stared deep into blue ones, searching-needing. "Let's just stay like this."

Is it my conviction… will it last forever?
Do I belong to this?

~~*~~

Taichi unlocked the door to Yamato's apartment while apologizing to the others. "I really don't know why he's not up."

"Yeah, yeah," Daisuke murmured while tapping an impatient foot. "Just open the door."

Hikari placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure he's fine, Dai."

The goggle-boy shook his head. "Ken said he'd call me this morning. He's never late for stuff. Never."

Miyako cast the Child of Light a hopeless look from Koushiro's arms. When Ken was involved, Motomiya Daisuke just couldn't listen to reason.

"Got it!" Tai swung the door open triumphantly.

"Ken?" Dai nearly knocked him down getting into the apartment. "Ken?"

"Chill, Daisuke!" Tai stood and straightened his clothes as he walked into the apartment. "C'mon; I'm sure they just overslept."

"But Ken isn't on the couch!"

"Oh . . ." The older goggle-boy groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Fine! Everyone come with me. We're fixing this right now!"

The group of seven trooped to the back of the apartment and Tai knocked on a door. "Yama?" He pushed the door open. "You awake? Dai is having a f-" The last words died in his throat.

Tangled together in a black comforter, Ishida Yamato lay spooned possessively around Ichijouji Ken. The younger boy was curled up in the elder's arms and a satisfied smile adorned is lips. Yama was holding onto Ken as though they were welded together and he didn't seem to have any intention of letting him go soon. Neither was wearing any clothing.

Daisuke was half a step behind Taichi. He took one look at the scene in front of him, did a double take, and then, scowling thunderously, opened his mouth-

Only to have Tai whirl around and place a firm hand over it. He glared at the other teen in confusion, but at that moment Yamato decided to wake up.

The blond opened his eyes and glared sleepily at the crowd in door. Great, he thought in disgust. Just freakin'great. I really don't need to deal with this shit in the morning.

Careful not to disturb his bedmate, Yamato shifted, slowly disengaging himself from Ken. He sat fully upright, mentally making a note to thank Taichi for having the foresight to shut Dai up-but only after thoroughly reaming him out for starting this-and pointed at the door hissing, "Out. Now!"

They quickly obeyed.

"Wonderful," the teenager muttered, getting out of bed. "Now what do I do? Dai did not look happy . . ."

A sleep-thickened voice cut through his sulking. "Yama?" Ken's hand slid across the mattress in search of his lover. Finding nothing, the boy sat up. "Yama? What's going on?"

The musician slid a pair of jeans up over slim hips and then turned around and grinned at the befuddled look on his lover's face. He scooted across the bed, pushed aside the indigo hair blocking the other's face, and placed a soft kiss on softer lips. "Company, love."

Ken drew back slightly, eyes clouded by uncertainty. Yamato did likewise and looked him in concern. "What do you want to do now?"

A half smile slid onto the other's face and he leaned into Yama's arms, resting his head against the hard chest in front of him. He stayed like that for a moment, listening to Yamato's heartbeat and lingering in the warmth he found in those arms. "Yours, remember?" he whispered against the soft skin. "I'm yours." Then he drew back shyly and bit his lip, suddenly anxious. "If you'll have me."

Yamato grinned broadly and wrapped his arms tight around the younger teen, drawing him back to his chest. "Always."

"…"

The two were silent for a moment, simply enjoying one another. Then: "Hey, Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not so cold anymore."

Do I belong to this?

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