Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Tsuyosa ❯ Tsuyosa ( Chapter 1 )

Tsuyosa

A WDCAK AU Fic

By L.A. Mason

Written for Kelly, who had better take the credit for pushing me into this. Begun on 11/13/04, finished on 11/25/04, composed largely on Y!M. Beta-ed by Kelly.

Kelly:

I admit it; it's my fault. I have this terrible habit of shamelessly needling Lisa into writing me lemons every time I can get my paws on her. After all, why deprive yourself of a good thing when it's there for the taking? The fact that it doesn't hurt anyone is an added bonus.

Though we've said that this is AU, keep in mind that it does have relevance to the main storyline in WDCAK. What it means is that the AUs take those situations created by the choices the characters made and explored it further. In all actuality, you can tie the AUs into WDCAK itself. We're that good. Heh.

But seriously, this little jaunt into sweat, tears and lube has a purpose (and we tried so hard to make it plot-less!). You see, even before WDCAK started, I had this idea in mind - all of the Shinigami are insane. Or at least, their perception of the world and how it works is a little. . .different from how humans perceive it to be.

Ignore the fact that they were once humans themselves. That little detail of their past does not matter anymore because they have embraced what they have become by refusing the right for eternal peace; becoming a God of Death. A Shinigami.

So imagine yourself in their place, if you will. Imagine coming in to work at nine, punching in, greeting the man in glasses and dark brown suit who smiles and hands you a folder saying, `There's an earthbound soul over in Kyushu. Send the poor spirit on.' Imagine then, doing your duty, with your partner of course, who's either grumbling about your predilection to memorize bakery sales or a partner whose lascivious wink suggests that a little break for something relaxing might be in order.

Imagine then, doing this day in and day out, variations in the form of spirits banished, psychotic murderers evaded, near-catastrophic fights with a shape-changing colleague or fielding the latest complaint from the Shiroku whose snide remarks are loaded with bitterness and malice, for you wield the power to walk between worlds and to rub shoulders with living, never mind that your duty is your (perceived) penance for your past.

Next, and the most important, imagine doing all of this over and over again, seeing the same people over and over again (because the other souls in Meifu shun you for the black taint of a Shinigami) for eternity.

Wouldn't you end up being a little weird, comparatively?

Tsuyosa (meaning `strength') and subsequently, The Wager, Payback and Summer Dreams (all WDCAK-AU fics) explores this little concept, though the issue is only explicitly explained near the end.

But still. Think about it. And try to decide if what we're telling you makes sense.

For a Shinigami that is.

Cheers people,

Kelly

Lisa:

On a more practical level, I get to write a "house-keeping" introduction, so that you, the reader, will have a better idea where all this falls in the WDCAK universe.

The answer is: It doesn't.

This sequence of stories is AU.

Oh, the premise that Kelly outlined is very much a part of how we've come to see Yami no Matsuei. No doubt of that. And that does play a part in the main WDCAK plot line. But the intensely lemon versions that have landed in the AU are not. This is the "Anything Goes School of Martial Arts" (whoops, wrong manga) incarnation of things that we can't do because they would screw up the character dynamics too much.

So, it's all AU.

But back to the practical aspect of this introduction. Now, you may remember, way back in chapters 26 and 27, that Hisoka and Tsuzuki finally got to spend some quality time together. Hisoka dragged his lover off to the British land of the dead for some yummy lemon pie, and when they returned, Narcissa's attack was underway, and our boys ended up kidnapped. Now, the lemon was presented in two scenes, one at the end of 26, and the other beginning 27. In point of fact, it was originally written as three scenes, but due to the pacing of the chapters, we regretfully had to cut the third one, and with it the plot thread that it was the starting point of.

Naturally, I whined about it. A lot. I wrote that lemon, damn it, and I wanted the third scene. Kelly (possibly because I was driving her crazy) said "Write a side story."

Blink.

I could do that… And so, the cut scene became the beginning of a new story, The Wager.

The premise was fairly simple. In Chapter 27, Tsuzuki challenged Hisoka to a simple wager. Hisoka lost. Before the bet could be paid off, the two young Shinigami were taken by Narcissa's ghost to the Malfoy estate, and everything was set aside in favor of the rescue mission. However, some time later, long after these events in the main story were resolved, Tsuzuki decided to collect.

Because The Wager contains spoilers for the main plot of WDCAK, I can't post it yet. But suffice it to say, the insanity that wears down Shinigami was at the forefront of Tsuzuki's mind, and he decided to do a little meddling of his own. The Wager is set at the end of winter, a few months into the future from where the main plot is now. Tsuyosa follows hard on its heels. The often-threatened Payback story falls at the end of spring. Summer Dreams, (posted on ff.net) is later in that summer, approximately one year after the Shinigami first met Harry. Just how many more stories will fill in this chronology is beyond me, but I know that they'll happen.

After all, who can resist a good lemon?

Enjoy!

LibraryCat

************

Part 1:

Hisoka stiffened, sensing a presence behind him, but it was only Kyo. The dark-haired Shinigami leaned lazily against the doorframe. "Haven't I told you not to read in the dark?" he teased.

Startled, green eyes blinked. It had gotten late, and there was only the barest glow from the window above his bed. Kyo crossed his line of sight, past the footboard and fumbled for a match to light a candle. By its solitary glow, Hisoka saw the amused curve of soft lips.

That smile did not bode well. Resigned, Hisoka heaved a sigh and fumbled for the scrap of paper that he had pressed into service as a bookmark. Predictably, he had just gotten it seated between the pages when slender fingers plucked the book from his hands.

"What do you have against my reading?" he complained.

"Nothing. Except that it means that you're not paying attention to me." The book hit the floor with a thud, and Hisoka winced.

"You are such a cat." the smaller blond groused, rolling onto his side. His intent was to rescue the book; it belonged to the library and he valued Madame Pince's continued good will, but he found himself pinned under a warm weight. It said "Meow?" and giggled.

"Hmph! Lemme up!"

"No." There was another, catly chuckle, and something wet swiped at Hioka's ear, wringing a yelp from him. He squirmed, and tried to buck, and somehow found himself flat on his stomach, the annoying weight of his friend now straddling his hips. Fingernails raked lightly up Hisoka's ribs.

"You are ticklish, Kurosaki Hisoka! I knew it, I knew it!" The mattress bounced a little, and the blond bit back a curse. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away?

Fat chance. Hisoka gave a long-suffering sigh, and willed himself to lie still.

The teasing fingers brushed across the nape of his neck, darting beneath the silky fringe of golden hair, then snaked their way through the strands, caressing his scalp. That was dirty pool, he snarled to himself, as his resistance melted.

Damn it, Kyo knew that he was a sucker for contact, and it hadn't taken the older boy long to figure out that a massage would turn Hisoka into jelly, mentally as well as physically. The restraining weight shifted, easing lower, and the slender blond flinched at the puff of chill air that struck his lower back. Kyo had managed to untuck his shirt. Before he could organize a coherent protest, strong fingertips were splayed to either side of his spine and digging just where it would do the most good. "Ne... 'Soka-chan," a breathy voice cajoled in his ear, "Can I take your shirt off? It's too hard for me to reach."

Bad idea, bad idea... Hisoka chanted, but precisely what it was that was a 'bad idea' completely slipped out of his mind when the hem of his shirt cleared his head, leaving his arms still entangled.

"Ack!" The pinned form jerked, lean shoulders bunching helplessly.

"Hmm, so pretty..." Kyo murmured, stretching out along top of the slighter boy. He rubbed teasingly all up the tensed muscles, ending by pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the smooth skin just behind Hisoka's ear. A flush of heat warned him of the blush that he couldn't see in the dim glow of the candle's light. He tried to duck his head, to protect the sensitive curve of his ear, but the movement had the opposite effect, exposing the curve where spine met skull.

Snickering, Kyo kept one hand tangled in the snarled fabric of the smaller boy's shirt, effectively cuffing his arms. At some point, Hisoka would remember how to get free, but for now it was entirely too entertaining to have him helpless. He nipped carefully at the delicate knob and hollow of each vertebra, trailing light kisses out along the vibrating muscle till he could bury his own face into the welcoming curve of Hisoka's shoulder.

Hisoka quivered under the attack, and bit his lower lip in an attempt to not respond, because reciprocating would mean that he had lost. As it was, things were progressing way past the point where Kyo normally did something to provoke a full-body blush, giggled like a loon, and took off. This could only mean that he had, somehow, found out about the whole Tsuzuki-let-them-eat-cake thing.

Tsuzuki was dead. And Hisoka didn't mean in the usual Shinigami way, either.

But wanting to locate his husband and rip him a new one left the trembling empath with a whole new problem: if he wanted to reach Tsuzuki, he would have to lower his shields. And if he lowered his shields, it would take his encounter with Kyo to a whole new level. Sharp teeth closed playfully on the tendons along side of Hisoka's neck and he breathed a slightly hysterical prayer; he wished Kyo wouldn't do that, because he was at risk of having his whole internal argument about to shield, or not to shield go up in smoke.

**************

"Ah! Tsuzuki! What are you doing?" The sudden jerk when Takashi came to the limits of his scarf nearly strangled him. He turned, leveling an accusing glare at the rumpled form attached to the scarf's other end.

The older Shinigami managed a mostly innocent, mostly apologetic grin as he shrugged. "Gomen, I just don't think this would be a good time to go back to the castle."

Hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously. "'Not a good time...?' And why, pray tell, would it not be a good time?"

Tsuzuki shrugged again, his boyish features open and guileless, but there was a lurking sense of mischief to the depths of his violet eyes. "I think 'Soka-chan and Kyo-kun are a little too preoccupied to bother with us. We might as well find our own entertainment as disturb our boys."

"You--" A finger poked the taller man firmly in the chest. "--are up to no good. I can tell."

"Am not." came the affronted reply. "I'm out taking a perfectly nice walk on a perfectly nice spring day with someone who is supposed to be my perfectly nice friend--"

"Argh!" Flailing his arms in exasperation, Takashi stomped off, Tsuzuki trailing along behind, holding to the end of his scarf as if it were a leash. Bitterly, the former doctor continued. "Nice walk. Hmph. Nice spring day, he says. Well. I suppose it is if you like a little sleet with your exercise--"

Tsuzuki's laughter cut across his complaints. Takashi halted at a split in the path and scowled up at the grinning man. Exertion and the bite of cold air had brought a healthy flush of color to the taller Shinigami's cheeks. Together with his wind-ruffled chestnut hair and bright eyes, he made a damnably pretty picture, even without the other-worldly aura that they all had to keep hidden in the mortal realm. Pretty, but still a pain in the ass. Annoyed at himself for the thought, Takashi gnawed on the inside of his lip and tried not to scream at his friend. If Tsuzuki was up to something, his motives were certainly good ones. Well... Almost certainly. It was that niggling doubt that made Takashi worry.

"Asato. Tell me what's going on. Or I swear I'll-- "

Tsuzuki's smile gentled, and he reached out to playfully ruffle Takashi's hair, making as big a mess of the auburn strands as the wind had of his own. "I suggested Kyo-kun help Hisoka-chan out with a project, is all. 'Soka has been trying something new with his empathy."

"Oh." Deflated, Takashi's anger evaporated. "So that's why you wanted us to stay away, huh? We'll interfere with Hisoka's empathy?"

Happily, Tsuzuki nodded. He linked his elbow with Takashi's, urging him onto the right-hand fork of the path. "I thought we could walk down to Hogsmead for a bit. I found a wonderful bakery there last Saturday. They had shells with custard inside, and dark chocolate over the top. I have no idea what they're called, but they're really, really good..."

Casting one final glance back at the looming bulk of the castle, Takashi bowed to the inevitable. Well, it would be dark soon, and surely, he'd be able to talk the sugar-fiend into returning then.

***************

Part 2:

"K- Kyo! S-s-stop!" Stammering, Hisoka tried one last time to wriggle free. It was like being hugged by a boa constrictor; a damned friendly boa. With hands. Distracting ones. Panting, he considered that this just had to be the effects of his karma. He should never, never have let Tsuzuki talk him into betting on his abilities.

Damned cake-loving sugar-fiend.

Payback was a bitch.

"'Soka...?" The too-friendly hands helped to flip the smaller Shinigami onto his back, untangling the bunched up shirt so that it lay like spread wings to either side. Then Kyo was kneeling over him, hands braced into the mattress to either side of the blond's head. "I'll stop if it bothers you."

"Huh?" Caught unawares, Hisoka blinked up at him. One minute the roaming hands were driving him crazy, and the next, pale blue eyes that were unexpectedly serious hit him with an entirely different form of insanity.

Kyo huffed a quiet laugh at the confusion evident on his face. "Silly, love. I want you to have fun. I don't want to scare you, or to hurt you."

Insane. Kyo was certifiable. There was no other explanation for the depth of the affection that lurked beneath the humor. Tentatively, Hisoka reached up to graze the backs of his knuckles along the smooth jaw that loomed over him. "Why...?" he whispered.

Bright blue eyes never wavering, Kyo turned his head slightly, letting his parted lips catch at Hisoka's touch as it passed. His breath was warm. "Because..." he answered, "I love you."

Startled, Hisoka cried out and jerked his hand back as if it had been scalded. But the damage was done. The crack in his armor let through a flood of foreign thoughts and sensations, riding a silver whirl of pure tenderness. It felt just the same as his own heart, but sure, and steady... not confused. Not alone. His fingers were tangled into smooth black silk, drawing a heated mouth down. Hisoka felt as if he could devour the sweet chocolate smoothness. Soft lips, hungrily willing, slid across his, kissing muscle and bone, skin... Sharp teeth worried ever so carefully at the lobe of Hisoka's ear, and he choked, gasping for breath.

Solid warmth, living flesh over top of hard bone, settled down on top of him, holding him safe, holding him together. The fabric of a shirt was too rough, and the bright/sharp chill of a belt buckle just above his navel wrung another gasp from the shaking boy. A quick-silver shimmer, minnows flashing beneath the rippling surface of another's mind, informed the empath that his discomfort was understood. Kyo rocked back onto his heels, still astride Hisoka's recumbent form, and peeled off his shirt without bothering to undo the rest of the buttons. It fluttered to the floor beside the bed, and was followed a moment later by the offending belt.

"Come back?" Hisoka murmured. He wasn't quite certain whether he spoke them out loud, but the sudden tilt of the sky blue gaze still locked on his told him that Kyo understood, and was grinning broadly.

Kyo's grin suddenly died, eyes turning serious again. His free hand stole up to run itself through the boy's thick, honey-gold hair, cupping the scalp gently, massaging it in little circles while his other hand propped him up. Kyo's lips quirked slightly though, at Hisoka's answering purr of contentment. "Tsuzuki told me how sometimes, you can't have your cake and eat it too. That you've got to share sometimes. . ." he said quietly and Hisoka would have thought that the older boy had a fetish for hair, the way his blue eyes tracked the slow, sensuous massage of his scalp. Kyo's hand drew back, trailing down over Hisoka's breast bone, following the faint hollow. An errant flutter like insubstantial fingers continued to brush through the youth's fine hair, ghosting down his temple and throat. Distracted, Kyo's eyes followed the invisible caress. "I'm not about to leave." he promised.

It was like having a great, big, hunting cat crouching over him. Hisoka stared in not a little wide-eyed fascination, enthralled by the play of rippling muscles under pale skin, bunching and flexing together as the dark-haired boy slowly sank himself down, covering the empath's torso with his own. Kyo was ever so careful to not place his entire weight on the slighter boy, using his elbows, and Hisoka clearly felt the red streak of annoyance that flitted through Kyo at having to deny himself the pleasure of playing with Hisoka's hair again.

He was right, Kyo did have a fetish for hair.

"Kyo..." His throat felt thick, constricting with the things he wanted to say. It was so much simpler to just feel... His outward eyes fluttered closed as he cautiously unfurled his inward sense. If Kyo's thoughts flashed in shining schools, elusive, darting and turning, Hisoka's took flight like a hawk. He spun himself through sweet-scented clouds, drawing color and light into a net that lazily gathered the glittering quickness to him. Amusement, visible as a shaft of light that darted through the fish told Hisoka that Kyo had caught on to the game; the net shattered into jewel-bright flower petals, and another bird matched him, wing-beat for wing-beat, teasing him ever upward.

What Kyo projected was no living creature at all: a long, sinuous form and flashing wings, both covered in scales that gleamed mirror bright. Each twist or turn sent back a shower of sparkling light that scattered into a transparent rainbow as it passed through the whirling storm of cherry blossoms. There had been a time when Hisoka had found his mind's insistence on the tender petals, each snow-white sliver shading to a drop of blood at its base, disturbing. But he had come to accept that they were as much a part of his past as they were of the present eternal spring of Meifu.

The outermost tip of a feather brushed lingering down the rippling light that was Kyo, leaving a trail of diamond-bright sparks of pleasure in its wake. The powerful wings cupped the air, braking his headlong descent. In this otherworld of thought and emotion, there was no need to obey the laws of gravity, but Hisoka did so on instinct, his dream form's aerial ballet given grace by it. Child-Hisoka had spent day after day of his young life staring at the rectangle of sky visible through the bars of his prison. The swift flight of a hawk remained the only symbol of freedom that his subconscious mind could draw. And here, with Kyo drawn in as well, that freedom was what he hungered for more than anything else.

The dragon, (because that lean form could only be a dragon, and as soon as his mind's eye saw it that way, that was how it crystallized, glittering with light) wound around the hawk's slender form. It was laughing, sending bright, joyous streamers of silver tearing off into the swirling air. Words shaped themselves in Hisoka's consciousness: "Hey, `Soka, Love… Earth to `Soka-chan…?" Reluctantly, the empath opened his eyes to the physical plane. The smiling shape leaning over him resolved itself into Kyo, his pale golden skin gilded by the candle's light. If anything, the reality was more beautiful than the illusory.

"How could I have missed seeing you for so long?" Hisoka murmured. His shaking hand brushed along Kyo's cheek and temple, much as the hawks' wing had dared to touch the dragon. The dark-haired boy leaned into the light gesture, changing it from tentative to firm, as his own hand came up to capture Hisoka's.

"I want you." The husky whisper was enough to raise gooseflesh across the blond's bare chest, and along his arms. "Now." Kyo turned the captured hand, pressing a kiss to its palm, then licking a shivering trail from the cleft of each finger to the heel.

Startled, night-shadowed green eyes dilated. That was not quite what Hisoka had expected. Still connected, soul to soul, he had no doubt that Kyo meant it. His aura deepened from the quick-silver shimmer that the empath always associated with him, forming molten currents that flowed deeper, and stronger. Passion, tempered with kindness and by a generous, loving heart surrounded Hisoka, stroking at the dark places within him. It teased, enticing him to open up, to respond in kind, and to let the light into his cold aloneness.

Hisoka wriggled the imprisoned hand impatiently, and it was promptly released. He slid it around the back of Kyo's skull, encouraging him to come closer. The pale blue of the other boy's eyes widened in surprise, then slid shut with a hiss of pleasure when Hisoka kissed him.

Kyo felt… different… from before. The mixed teasing and aggression gave way to pure anticipation, to an almost childish delight. It made Kyo happy that Hisoka was willing, and he, in turn, was willing to go slow, to curb the hotter threads of lust that tickled at the margins of the younger Shinigami's consciousness. But the awareness of them sent a shiver through Hisoka's body, clear down to his toes. Heavy languor pooled in his chest, fueled by the knowledge that he was the one occupying the center of Kyo's awareness, and with it came an understanding that his own desires precisely mirrored those of his companion. Hisoka drew back a little, searching the familiar face above him, confirming with physical sight what his heart could feel. "Yes," he whispered out loud.

A spike of surprised delight sang through their link, followed almost immediately by a devilish, playful impulse. That was all the warning the petit blond had before Kyo rolled them over, and he found himself lying full length on top of his friend. The bare skin of the older boy's belly was warm beneath him, tempting Hisoka to relax fully into the contact. The movement also brought his chilled nipples down against the satiny glide of foreign skin, and he gasped a little at the sensation. Kyo trembled when it fed back through their connection.

It took Kyo all of thirty seconds to figure out just how sensitive Hisoka was. The older boy's broader, stronger hands stroked firmly down the empath's back, from the nape of his neck, over the helpless bunching of his trapezia and the wings of his shoulder blades, on down to cup his buttocks. Every spark and shiver that his touch elicited was shared between them. It was only too bad that Kyo couldn't receive with quite the same intensity, although to judge by the way that his pale eyes darkened, what he did get was still powerful. "Oh… Wow." he breathed. "Yeah, like that."

Hisoka inched up Kyo's frame, shuddering at the feel of clearly delineated bone and muscle, until he was able to rest his elbows one to either side of the fall of shining black hair spilling across his pillow. Anticipation curved the boy's pink mouth, and slitted down the blue eyes. Hesitantly, the blond touched the tip of his nose to Kyo's, then slid sideways and down until it brushed the pink softness. He felt the tiny inhalation as the lips parted, inviting, and the temptation to taste brought out his own tongue for a cautious lick.

Oh, but Kyo tasted wonderful. He couldn't help himself; sucking gently at the boy's lower lip, sending a rolling wave of heat down through his torso, and he rocked carefully, involving more of their bodies into the kiss. Beneath him, Kyo arched, bringing the taut bow more fully into alignment with Hisoka above.

The empath allowed the leading tip of his astral form's wing to graze the dragon's scintillating form, eliciting a shower of white-hot sparks, bits of diamond and mirror that briefly delineated both their forms. But under the eager surface of the sinuous form writhing against him was a vague darkness, a growing part of Kyo that was losing its certainty and willingness. Concerned, Hisoka drew back and blinked open his earthly form's eyes.

Kyo was gasping, his own eyes squeezed shut… His expression, with its faint crease between his dark brows, and the increasing pallor of his cheeks, was not one of passion.

Kyo. . .?" He brushed light, uncertain fingers across a suddenly too pale cheek and the older boy beneath him flinched. The dragon whirled, agitated and twisted with traces of dark that dimmed its brilliant form, while its physical self practically pushed the empath away. Shaking hands covering his face, Kyo let out a wordless whimper, trying to curl into himself.

That was most definitely not to be tolerated. Tenderly, Hisoka cupped Kyo's skull between his hands, slipping his fingers up through the dense silk of his flyaway hair until the thumbs rested at the outermost edge of the straining frown. The imprisoning hold, light though it was, sent a new round of shivers coursing down the slim frame beneath him. Kyo's other self was held with equal lightness, its soaring flight changing to a slower, more deliberate drifting as colors dimmed.

The beginning edge of fear unraveled, sharp-edged streamers that tasted of ash and despair. Hisoka brushed through them, fighting his own desire to flinch aside, instead hooking one slim leg around the back of his friend's, thigh, knee, calf, and finally trim ankle entwined. Trapped between their chests, Kyo's elbows pushed him back, but the movement was weak, fractured and unfocused. Hisoka shifted subtly, wordlessly commanding the interfering arms to part, to move aside for him. And after a moment's hesitation, they did, letting the smaller blond lower himself back into full contact.

He knew that Kyo didn't `see' the other planes, or even the inward manifestation of power in the same manner. To Hisoka, the shining rivers of his talent's medians, flowing through the physical shell of flesh and bone, was as real as his hawk, or the sparkling dragon. It was no effort at all to expand his awareness to include the glowing nexus points and glimmering threads that defined Kyo. That they were different than his own, extending outward into the elemental realm, was to be expected; the soul of Kyo was that of a mage who commanded fire and water, earth, and air…

When he bothered to think in those terms, Kyo was always yang, out-going explorer, fearless and cheerful, and he, he was a moon, reflecting that glow, darker and more withdrawn. Yin. But this Kyo needed something else, not a complimenting shade to his light, but a beacon to follow. Hisoka swallowed hard, and tried again, "Kyo, answer me. What's wrong?"

The arms that the petit blond had urged aside locked now with painful force around his middle, crushing him down against a chest that was boyish, but still broader and more defined than his own. Through the contact, Hisoka felt a heart that leapt in a harsh, stuttering beat, and the rapid breaths of someone who had run to their limit, and beyond. There were tears running down Kyo's temples, soaking into the glossy black hair. The older boy gulped, panting, and choked out a reply:

"`Soka. Please, it hurts so bad. Make it go away."

And after another beat of their aligned hearts: "Make love to me."

Legs entangled, embraced with bruising force, Hisoka knew that Kyo felt his guilty start. Guilty because, Enma help him, he wanted to. Wanted to feel the soul-wrenching flare of completion, wanted that slim body responding to his touch, wanted to hear his name screamed by that so-soft voice when it had lost all semblance of control.

Wanted.

Beneath him, Kyo gasped, and gave a tremulous laugh. Obviously the surge of lust, of the hawk for the dragon, had come through loud and clear.

An eager body rubbed against the solid, present Hisoka, every bit as flexible and sinuous as its alter ego. Fiercely, the hawk smacked the dragon's ephemeral snout, asserting itself; if they were going to do this, it would be done right. No pain, no fear… no hurtful regrets. Thrumming with anticipation, holding the shifting heart of its darkness, the serpentine form subsided, letting Hisoka think, even though thinking was the worst thing to try to do at a moment like that.

What he wanted to know, beyond all else, was what had brought Kyo to him now. The older boy had been better, freed from the intrusive agony of Voldemort's Quinta Essentia. They had made their own peace about Hisoka's role in the disaster. So, why seek out the smaller Shinigami now? Focused and aware, the empath uncurled a tendril of his own innate ability, teasing at the fringes of the dark place that he knew was where Kyo's latent madness lurked.

Hurt. And the memory of hurt.

It nearly stopped the breath in his lungs.

The events of the preceding months were far from gone from Kyo's psyche. First were the flashbacks to his ordeal with Akuma, torn open and fresh. Then his violation at the hands of the dark wizard. Laced between them, connecting and weaving a whole cloth of misery, was the realization that Taka could not understand all of it, had not been there, at his side. Loneliness made Hisoka dizzy. Made him cry, bitter salt tears dripping down to trail into the dark hair twined through his fingers. Lightly, barely a brush of breath, Hisoka leaned down and drew his lips softly across the other boy's.

They didn't feel or taste anything like Tsuzuki's, nor like any of the other rare chances he had had to sample another's mouth. There was a lingering flavor of tea with far too much sugar, and a delicate way of nibbling back, tiny nips that were different. The pliant, sweet mouth was both eager, and shy, but not afraid of going too fast and frightening Hisoka with its demands. When the lips parted and Hisoka brushed the hard line of even teeth, it sent a shudder racing down his entire body, eliciting an answering shiver from the sensitive fame under him. Kyo's.

Oh, Enma. Kyo's. Hisoka closed his incisors lightly onto the tender swell of flesh, as much to hold himself still as to warn the other boy to not move.

Instantly, the slender body obeyed, holding itself ready for the blond's directions. The mutual thrum of anticipation eased, a banked fire becoming a bed of coals, and like coals, the heat of Kyo beneath him warmed Hisoka to the core.

And Hisoka knew what he was going to do, what he wanted to do to and for the Shinigami stretched on his bed. Carefully, he unwound himself, and levered his body up onto his hands and knees. Trusting, Kyo let him go, arms falling back, relaxed, into the ruin of disordered bedding. The lone candle gleamed on the smooth ivory of his chest, half revealed and half shadowed within the confines of the unbuttoned shirt draping from Hisoka's shoulders. There was a breath of cooler air between them, laced with the hot scent of burning wax, and the fresh, sunshine smell of the bed's linens. And, like a faint, smoky incense, the warmer tang of skin and desire. Hisoka felt his pulse speed up at the suggestion of arousal.

Clothes. They were both wearing way too many clothes. His eyes ranged down the sleek, recumbent form, taking in the gentle indentation of Kyo's belly, the smooth lift of the ribs as he inhaled deeply. The darker boy's nipples, with their surrounding aureoles, were cinnamon-tawny, flushed a little with excitement, against the pale gold of his skin. Fleetingly, Hisoka wondered if they tasted as wonderful as they looked. Unable to resist the idea, he leaned down planting a quick kiss on first one, then the other. A faint, choked gasp rewarded his efforts. A smile twitched the empath's lips at the echoing surge that tightened the flesh of his own chest. Oh, there were times when it was very nice having empathy.

"Bastard…" The faint hiss was pure Kyo, the way Hisoka remembered him, not the shivering, frightened boy of a few minutes earlier. A wicked bubble of amusement floated up in the normally reserved Shinigami's consciousness, and Hisoka couldn't resist sharing it: a tingling buzz of pleasure straight to Kyo's brain, timed to match the hungry suckling of a mouth on a cinnamon-spicy nipple.

Jolted by the twin sensations, the dark-haired boy arched up off of the bed, pale blue eyes flying wide open. "`Soka!" he sputtered. "Ah, yeow!"

The opportunity was perfect. Aided by will, intent, and a quickly murmured spell, Hisoka grasped the waist of Kyo's belt-less trousers and stripped them efficiently down past his trim hips and buttocks. It was a measure of the degree to which the older boy was distracted that Hisoka had wriggled them over his knees and was gasping the cuff of one leg to draw it off before Kyo registered what he had done.

With a startled squawk, the taller youth floundered upwards, ending up braced back against his outstretched hands. "`Soka! What are you doing?!" Obviously, it had never occurred to him that Hisoka could - or would - make a move like that. The blond's lips quirked up in a decidedly feline smile, but he resisted the obvious answer, turning his attention instead to the other shapely ankle. Kyo had gained back most of the weight that he had lost during the preceding school-year, and the curve of his calf was again a smooth line, feeding down to a graceful foot, revealed as the final sock came off.

Kyo might have a thing for Hisoka's hair, but the younger Shinigami figured that he could make up for it by worshipping the rest of his companion's revealed form. Starting by kissing each toe, beginning with the smallest. Green eyes flicked up to see what reaction he would get from his friend, and he was gratified to find Kyo staring at him over the top of his raised leg in open-mouthed astonishment. Hisoka had reached the final, largest of the toes available to him, and regretfully scrapped his teeth lightly over it before drawing it into his mouth. Kyo collapsed back onto the mattress with the faint `woof' of a surprised exhalation.

To be perfectly honest, Hisoka wasn't quite sure where the impulse had come from, himself.

His plans, such as they were, had been purely designed to undo the damage between them. At the Malfoy estate, yielding had led to terrible, possibly irreparable harm befalling his dearest friend. If Hisoka had been smarter, less terrified, he would not have played into the hands of the Dark wizards, would not have given Lucius and Voldemort the ingredient that they needed for their heinous creation. Would not have betrayed Kyo's trust. Oh, the other boy had insisted that refusing would have made things worse, and intellectually, Hisoka knew that he was right, but it didn't change the self-revulsion that threatened to drown him whenever he thought about the events.

But now, now he was being given a chance to set things right. Kyo had asked him to. And damned if Hisoka didn't want to, as well. This time, the elemental mage would not be betrayed by the empath's weak nature. This time, it wouldn't end in disaster.

His hands stroked gently down Kyo's leg, from just above the knee to the Achilles tendon, careful to not run the fine down of hair the wrong way. A final, lingering kiss to the arch of the elevated foot, and he lowered the limb to lie, relaxed, on the bed. Kneeling as he was between them, he had a sinfully lovely view up the length of Kyo's slender body: long legs, narrow hips, gently heaving breast, and exultant, beautiful face. Shining in the candle's light, his dilated eyes were fixed on the shadowy reaches of the bed's canopy, high above. A very different kind of smile graced the soft mouth, wonder mixed with the more usual, childish glee.

In that moment, Hisoka truly believed, on a gut level, and not just with his intellect, that Kyo had been the vessel of a goddess. He was incredible: full of life, vivid, and beautiful. Hisoka was completely unaware that a quiet sigh of "Kyo…" had escaped him, until the dazzling blue gaze shifted to meet his and the smile widened into a happy grin.

"Don't let me stop you." he begged. The recently addressed toes wriggled, brushing against the outside of Hisoka's folded, jeans-clad legs, and teasing upward toward his hip. The blond Shinigami snorted, shaking the feeling of awe back into perspective as an answering smile lightened his heart.

"Shut up. You're distracting me." he grumbled. A soft laugh told him just how seriously that complaint was likely to be taken, and Kyo's other foot hooked behind him and tried to draw Hisoka up and forward. He complied until he was on his knees between Kyo's spread thighs, then he leaned forward and planted his hands to either side of the dark haired boy's waist, adding in mock complaint, "You're pushy."

The laugh turned breathless. "Yeah. Gonna teach me a lesson, sempai?"

"Hm. Maybe." Deliberately, Hisoka lowered his head, summer green eyes still fixed on Kyo's as the fall of his fine hair became a veil between them. Seen through the amber and gold haze, the fair skin of the other boy became gilded, and the flickering of the candle's light as it danced in a draft enhanced the effect, making an offering worth more than rubies of him. The kneeling boy drew the tips of his fingers carefully down over the soft skin, delighting in its living warmth. No statue here, despite the perfection of its form. The two years' difference in their death ages had taken the dark haired boy to young adulthood, while Hisoka had been left behind, forever on the verge. If time had allowed, Kyo would almost certainly have filled out, living up to the promise of strong shoulders and muscular thighs, but instead he remained athletic, but slender; graceful, yet without the mass of a fully grown man.

Forever eighteen, and beautiful.

Hisoka's gentle fingers followed the curving line of ribs, up from their hiding place in the tangle of blankets, to the solid surface of Kyo's breastbone. The ball of one thumb rubbed across the darkened bud of a cinnamon-warm nipple, encouraging it to gather and tighten. Then he stroked down the long torso, feeling the shiver of taut muscles when he reached the younger man's belly. And, finally, he lowered his eyes to Kyo's groin.

He admitted that he had been avoiding thinking of the most intimate part of his friend, reluctant to invade his privacy, even if he had just stripped off Kyo's pants. It meant remembering the last time, with the captive Shinigami strung up in a net of cursed hair, helpless in a Dark wizard's lair. And it meant remembering Hisoka's own betrayal of his best and dearest friend, even as the scent and taste of him flooded back into his mind. Hisoka groaned.

He had taken his friend into his mouth, had used his dwindling empathy to push an orgasm from him. The shock of pleasure on Kyo's startled face had been his constant companion in nightmare after nightmare… surpassing even his terror-dreams of drifting sakura petals. Strange to think that after three decades of death, the thing that would finally drive his own torment from his slumbering mind was that which he had dealt to another. Hisoka's resolution wavered. Yes, Kyo had pleaded with him to drive away Voldemort's memory, and as recently as a few seconds earlier, he had been ready to reenact their earlier encounter, to change it from deception to honesty, to give the affectionate elemental mage what he wanted. But now… Hisoka cringed. Nausea roiled in his stomach.

Kyo must have guessed what was going through the panting blond's mind, because he reached down and captured the wrist of the hand that had frozen dead on his belly. Tugging gently, he forced Hisoka to glance up, and having once caught his eye, held his gaze steadily. His normally light voice was unnaturally low and serious, as he said, "Hisoka, I want you to," and he guided the empath's trembling fingers down, and wrapped both their hands around his erection.

Shuddering, Hisoka felt his eyes roll back in their sockets. Heated satin skin slid effortlessly over hardness, the movement becoming slick and erratic as his forefinger bumped up over a rounded head. Kyo whimpered, hips buffeting their combined grasp. A meteor shower of light, fireflies in a frenzied dance, whatever he should call it, burst through the empath's inward sight, spinning him dizzily. Hard on that sensation came raw bliss that stunned him. A hoarse cry bursting from the darker Shinigami startled him, but not half as much as the intense stab of want and need, and relief that this wonderful feeling had not been spoiled by the hated Dark Lord.

The fingers wrapped around Hisoka's were shaking so badly that they began to hinder his exploration of his friend's arousal. Being drawn into Kyo's soul, skimming along with his spiraling pleasure was an intoxicating drug. Gently, Hisoka brought his off hand into play, removing his and Kyo's entwined grasp. The desperate whimper drew an answering whine from the blond youth, and he brought the other boy's trembling hand up to his mouth, intending to press a kiss to the knuckles. Instead, he found himself greedily licking at the bitter, salty fluid smeared around and between their fingers, the probing of his tongue almost more than he could stand.

Sticky wet fountained over Hisoka's left hand, and without meaning to, he bit down - hard - on the first joint of his right as Kyo bucked wildly. The stab of pain was overridden entirely by a pulsing flood of incandescent joy, and then the stunned empath found himself collapsed on top of his boneless companion, Kyo's mind bleeding away like spilled water from the link, slipping into oblivion.

That's it, he thought dully. Kyo had gotten what he wanted. He ought to be happy for him, but in the blinding static that filled his brain, he couldn't find the emotion. The blond squeezed his closed eyes shut a little tighter. His hand, trapped between their bodies, was going a little numb, and there was cold, congealing wet trickling down the inside of his elbow where it rested against the slope of Kyo's hip.

It hurt too much to move.

****************

Tsuzuki stopped dead, the custard-filled tart shell suspended comically half-way between his plate and open mouth. But the expression of mingled fear and distress that shot across his mobile features was anything but funny.

He dropped the pastry.

Takashi had glanced up from pursuing the last bits of apple filling around his own plate just in time to see the performance. Alarmed, he was out of his chair and around the table, reaching out to shake the older Shinigami's shoulder when Tsuzuki shuddered, and came back to life. He drew on a shaky smile, and remarked, "Sorry, I didn't mean to forget what I was saying… I get distracted too easily."

"Asato, what just happened?" Takashi demanded. His hand hovered, wanting to grab the infuriating man by the shoulder, and afraid to touch if there really was something the matter. The shadowed gaze that had been iris-bright purple moments before blinked stupidly up at him; Tsuzuki might be able to hide behind a smile, but it never worked for his unnatural eyes.

His face crumpled, and for a second, it looked as if he might cry. "`Soka-chan." he said simply, as if naming his partner would explain everything.

A frisson of worry sped down the auburn haired man's spine. They had left Hisoka with his husband, with Kyo, and Enma alone knew what trouble the two might have gotten themselves into. Without a second thought, he snatched up the scarf hung carelessly over the back of his chair, and threw it around his neck. Tsuzuki's lunge caught the smaller man by the collar of his professor's robes, and yanked him back.

"No, wait." he hissed urgently, frantic to keep Takashi from leaving, and also desperate to avoid attracting any more attention in the crowded tea shop than they already had. "They're not hurt, not either of them. They just need a little more time."

"TIME FOR WHAT?!" The former sensei could care less if the entire of Hogsmeade were staring at them.

Tsuzuki groaned, and gave in. "All right," he said. "I'll tell you, but only if you sit down, and agree to let me finish before you go running off."

***************

Part 3:

Hisoka hadn't realized that he was crying until gentle hands dragged him up into the center of the bed, and a damp wash cloth swabbed at the mess coating his chest and hands. The murmuring voice, clucking disapproval, and soft exclamations were familiar.

Kyo.

The empath shrugged off the meddling hands and curled himself into a small, bony knot of misery. He didn't want to breathe or to think. He definitely didn't want to be fussed over. The bed rocked as his companion climbed off, and for a wild second, he thought he was going to be left to indulge his taste for despair, but then the other boy was back. Kyo pulled the comforter up around them both, and snuggled up against Hisoka, embracing him from behind.

"Want to talk about it?" he whispered soothingly. Mute, the smaller blond shook his head violently, the movement rocking his entire body.

"Ah." Kyo went silent. Then, well-remembered, quick-silver sensations began prowling along the edges of the plane that Hisoka's dream-self frantically tried to hide itself in, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to avoid discussing things.

Damn it, but his shields were well and truly shot to hell where Kyo was concerned.

The intensity of their earlier encounter had not only burned away Hisoka's natural defenses, it had given the darker boy an uncomfortable insight into the way that his mind functioned. Now, the shimmering dragon knew its way around in the shadowed corridors, and had no difficulty in locating the hiding place that Hisoka had retreated to, to lick his metaphysical wounds. And, like its flesh and blood counterpart, the serpentine form was far from shy about dragging him out, and prodding at his wounds. He nuzzled around the fringes of the mixed shame and hurt, of the unrequited lust that the frantic Shinigami tried to stuff under a mental rock, and finally gave a soft snort of laughter.

His real voice stirred the wheat-blond, soft hairs over Hisoka's ear. "Let me guess," he whispered, "You've never had a lover pass out from sex before, and it felt really awful."

Without meaning to, the empath stiffened. Pass out? Lover?! Sputtering, he squirmed around to face the infuriating teen. `Vessel of a goddess' be damned! He was going to give the smirking bastard a piece of his mind.

Except, Kyo wasn't smirking. The ice blue eyes were thawing, and sympathetic, and the arms that he wrapped around the shaking blond were comforting. "I'm sorry, `Soka. I should have explained a bit better, but I kinda got caught up in the moment. I was so happy over how good things were working out between us, that I didn't stop to think about how it must feel to you."

Hisoka opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Instead, after a long moment, Kyo lowered his head to place a teasing kiss across his lips, agile tongue flickering inside like that of the dragon that his astral self appeared to be. The physical connection between them flared to life again, and the petit empath found himself melting.

And compared to earlier, this encounter was different yet again. This time, there was a languid, tropical heat, building in slow increments like the lapping of waves on a shore. He was only half aware of Kyo tugging him over and around, laying him onto his back in the middle of the bed. His arms slipped up, fingers tangling briefly in the sweat-chilled length of Kyo's fine black hair. A long body, slimmer and lighter than Tsuzuki's, covered his, rubbing suggestively from his toes, to his groin, to his bare chest. Hisoka struggled to hold in a low moan when Kyo's lips again found the sensitive spot beside his neck.

Words, whispered directly into his ear, penetrated the haze clouding his mind. "I'm so sorry, `Soka. I wanted this to be about both of us. I wanted to feel you inside me, not just with your mind, or your feelings, but your whole body." The sharpness of teeth wrung another moan from the smaller boy. "Make love to me, `Soka. Please."

Any thought of refusing was long gone. Hisoka found himself giving a low, rough growl and applying both his martial arts training, and his supernatural strength to reverse their positions yet again. Uncoiling, the lust crept back out from under its rock.

A breathless laugh answered his reversal to aggression - aggression that ought to be at odds with his slight built and delicate coloring. But the larger body he had trapped underneath him had no hint of derision for the 'ludicrousness' of their position. If anything, the endless depths of those sky blue eyes became shadowed, a storm born of passion rising from beneath, and the jewel-bright dragon hissed a low, dark song of pleasure, of wanting.

The feel of sleek muscles bunching and uncoiling underneath frail skin gave physical evidence; Kyo, like a great, big, shameless cat, flexed himself in a long bow that brought their bodies into a frustratingly intimate, yet fleeting contact. Hisoka snarled wordlessly, and promptly punished the infuriating feline with a bruising kiss, tongue darting in and cajoling a flameless burst of fiery need in the space of a heartbeat. There was a shuddering moan, pulse speeding, fluttering like trapped butterflies as he pinned the boy's arms above his head even as he ruthlessly demanded Kyo's complete submission to the kiss, to let go and to let his dragon soar again.

This was the one situation where Hisoka's fierce nature usually didn't come to the fore. With Tsuzuki - and damn Tsuzuki for not being there - he was rarely the one to take charge. Oh, he might start things, but it was his husband who carried the both of them to completion. Sweet, gentle Tsuzuki whose passion he depended on.

But he could manage just fine on his own, damn the sugar-loving fiend.

One hand remained occupied with holding Kyo's wrists, but the other Hisoka slid between them, a teasing touch that rubbed lasciviously over both their nipples, igniting a conflagration that sang from one mind to the other. The thin, questing fingers pinched lightly at his own hardening bud, then turned to palm the other boy's insubstantial breast, and squeeze. A stuttering exhalation came in reply.

Empathy could be a burden, and a curse. It could serve as a weapon in his extremity. And it could add savor to intimacy, fire to passion. Hisoka stripped bare the quivering mind of Kyo's dragon, just as his own, jeans-cladleg slithered up the outside of his prey's thigh. The harsh texture of rough cloth roared through their joined senses, ruthlessly driven by a thrust of the slender Shinigami's hips, and an equally honed stab of lust. "Mine." he hissed, scarcely audible.

Kyo's psyche eagerly fell open, welcoming him. There was a sense of Takashi, a brief, doubled image of Kyo's partner and lover, driving thrusts and hoarse gasps as he hammered into the smaller form. Pitiless, Hisoka snatched at the thread of recollection, twisting it subtly, adding his own signature. He set his teeth against the side of Kyo's throat, just below the sweat-soaked strands of black hair, and frantically held back the urge to tear.

Kannon be merciful… Hisoka drew in a sobbing breath, wriggling the trapped hand lower to fumble for his belt. He had to get rid of the restrictive jeans, and now, before the coarse fabric short-circuited his self-restraint. It hurt, he was shaking so badly. Hurt to where he fumbled one-handed, defeated by cloth and metal.

Relinquishing his numbed grip on his prey's wrists, he squirmed back, intending to use both hands. With one leg still hooked around the whimpering teen's bare hips, there were only the jeans for protection, and that armor worked against him, the frisson of sharp/rough lancing directly to his brain and on down. Incandescent heat blazed through his groin as the motion unintentionally rubbed his open crotch over Kyo's.

At this rate, he wasn't going to last long enough to comply with Kyo's earlier, moaned plea: Make love to me…

On instinct, the dark haired boy's arms came up around Hisoka, locking just below the spasming wings of his shoulder blades, holding him tightly against the lean chest. I won't let you fall… and the older boy lured him into a rhythm of kisses that became less desperate, even as the need grew hotter.

Strong, callused fingers kneaded briefly at the corded muscles paralleling Hisoka's spine, and fluttered indecisively along his ribs mutely seeking permission. Too far gone to even think a coherent reply, one knee slipped between Kyo's thighs and he levered himself up, granting access. Reluctance to release the sweet mouth he had captured made him awkward, and a ripple of laughter laced with fervent agreement came from his bed-mate's mind, even as Kyo's nimble touch wrenched at the uncooperative buckle.

Enma, but it was a relief to feel the brush of cooler air on his sweat-soaked skin. With the belt out of the way, the pants themselves were a loose fit over his trim hips and the lack of strain made the waistband's button a simpler challenge. Impatient, Hisoka rocked back onto his knees and efficiently peeled the stiff jeans down, striping his briefs along with them. Kyo's startled gasp made him falter, and he froze, black fabric bunched around the white of his trembling legs.

Oh, shit. Panic set in. This was his best friend: often goofy, definitely clinically insane, but still loving, gentle, and warm. And with Hisoka's bared erection a very noticeable, rosy-pink length jutting between them, the blond Shinigami's intentions were obviously not along the lines of brotherly comfort.

Not the right course to follow with someone who had been raped by a thing made from his own essences.

A trembling hand folded itself around Hisoka's length, squeezed gently, and rubbed suggestively, thumb brushing over its tip as the heel of the palm pressed down into his blond, childishly sparse curls. A wicked thought bled through their link, of how that soft golden hair would look, tangled together with black, with two hands moving in tandem, instead of only one. Shivering, Hisoka sank down on top of his friend, fingers sliding in to make the vision reality.

The choked, shuddering cry could have come from either of their throats. The empath teased at the feedback loop, driving it higher, tighter… It felt so incredibly, wonderfully good that Hisoka forgot about the jeans still half-imprisoning his legs, forgot doubts, forgot to inhale until the lack of oxygen made him light-headed. He leaned his temple against Kyo's shoulder, reveling in the helpless bunch and tremble of the muscles beneath him, and gave himself over to sensation.

Both of them were losing control… the otherworldly glow of the Realm of the Dead gilded their skin, shimmered like fox-fire across the tips of their hair, toes, and straining fingers. It bled in a coruscating rainbow around the cracks of the dormitory door, flooded like a beacon out the window with its tiny diamond panes, unimpeded by drapes that had been left wide open for the waning light of day. One of them, fair or dark didn't matter, gulped for air and cried out, an inarticulate keening compounded of the relentless burning in the blood and a desperate need for release. Hisoka thought it might have been his voice, hoarse with unaccustomed desires, but he didn't care. A bubble born of last shreds of reason said Now… and sent his free hand blindly in search of the little dresser beside his bed.

Wizards probably had spells for situations like this, and one of them - probably Kyo - sputtered with helpless laughter at the idea. Frustration lent a sharp edge by his arousal, Hisoka snarled soundlessly, scrabbling fingers finally catching hold of an edge worn smooth with age and constant handling, and he wrenched at the sticky drawer until it shrieked open. His blindly questing grasp closed on the cool smoothness of a plastic tube.

Thank the gods that he had learned to leave a cache of his favorite brand every where they went. With Tsuzuki, it paid to be prepared.

Kyo was aware of what the younger Shinigami was doing, murmuring encouragement as he nipped and licked at the point of Hisoka's chin. His other hand continued its heedless kneading, slowly moving down to cup the blond's bottom, digging into the soft curves and flexing muscle, and not coincidentally applying pressure to their interlaced hands on the other side of Hisoka's slim body. As a tremor swept down the blond, sizzling on his skin from scalp to toes. He felt the briefest regret: that there wouldn't be time, this time, to kiss and linger over every inch of Kyo, to see if his responses really were every bit as feline as the languid rubbing and kneading suggested.

Not this time.

The certainty blew through Hisoka like a cold, fresh breeze, and it eased some of the desperate urgency: this was not a one-shot, one time encounter. He was going to have Kyo again, to explore, and to relish. And again after that, and again, as often as it took to satiate the piercing obsession to know him. He breathed out a soft, triumphant laugh, trembling, and licked at the outer rim of the slender youth's ear. There were advantages to being sixteen and eighteen forever; it meant that he had time, and plenty to spare.

The larger body pinned under him shivered, the passionate stroke of their combined touch growing a hair more leisurely, although the subtle, corkscrew twist of Kyo's broader hand made Hisoka's vision momentarily go dark. Kyo's dream-self repeated the movement, sinuous tail winding around the slender, fierce form in its embrace. It sent a sudden rush of blood and heat to the hawk's groin, and Hisoka gave a long, shuddering moan into their kiss. His tongue scraped across Kyo's canines, teasing them to give sharp nips, then turning his head so that his own mouth fell aslant the tender lips, sucking at first one, then the other. The answering whimper was full of longing, and vague, half-heard promises of more, and again.

Regretfully, Hisoka wriggled his hand free of its confinement between their bodies. He untangled his legs from Kyo's long limbs, shifting to kneel between the out-spread thighs. The older boy brought up one leg, calf and trim ankle rubbing lightly up the curve of the blond's back, gently urging him closer. The encouragement dragged a soft groan from his lips, one that began in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head slightly, Hisoka dropped the plastic tube on the rumpled bed beside the indentation of Kyo's waist. Hands, pale and slender, but with the nails trimmed too short for a girl's, ranged up the darker Shinigami's smooth torso, tracing each hollow and hillock. They paused to lightly thumb dusky nipples, to feel the little pearls of flesh tighten in anticipation, then they swept down the quivering abdomen. Pleasure sparked, leaping from one boy to the other like an electric current jumping a gap, leaving a scent of ozone and an ephemeral thunderclap echoing in the astral plane.

Sweat-darkened strands of his own fine, straight hair hung in Hisoka's eyes, but he made no move to brush them aside. Instead, he watched the heavy-lidded blue fire of Kyo's, drinking in the way the boy's lips parted and tiny, gasping breaths puffed out, a syncopated rhythm that sent the shadows on his sculpted belly running like ink, to and fro with every one. Without looking, his hand found the cool smoothness of the plastic tube again, and carefully, he unscrewed it.

The viscous stuff was initially cold, but like melting butter it warmed and flowed across his fingers, threatening to drip onto the flats of his own thighs. Hisoka rolled his hand, filling his palm with the oil, and breathed deep of the heated sandalwood scent. Once upon a time, he hadn't cared for that aroma, but now, it was forever and indelibly linked in his unconscious with sex and heart-stopping gratification. A drop slipped between his fingers, to hang suspended for an eternal second from the backs of his knuckles, glistening transparent gold. It fell, catching a sliver of candle light, landing with a liquid impact on Kyo's erection.

The boy's startled gasp was loud in the stone-walled room.

He didn't give Kyo a chance to adjust.

More of the sweet-scented oil was drizzling from his cupped hand, a falling shimmer of droplets that clung and slid enticingly over dusky flesh and turned black curls shiny. Hisoka's choked cry was almost as loud as Kyo's had been when he stroked his palm up his own shaft; one quick, gliding movement. But even with that distraction, his attention was fixed on the sprawled figure in front of him.

Kyo was simply beautiful. Slim fingers were grasping and kneading at handfuls of the bed's sheets, completely unaware that he was twisting the snowy cotton. He was so aware… and still so completely oblivious. Taking in everything his senses had to offer, and never seeing what others saw in him.

Beautiful.

Mine.

Hisoka rested both hands on Kyo's groin, one curling around the slick weight of his erection, the other, oiled finger sliding easily, stroking the smooth skin lower on down. He found the tight knot of tissue and rubbed it between two fingers, sandalwood mingling with musk. The spread legs twitched involuntarily.

A spasm ran through the dark haired boy's erection, as his hips fought to remain quiescent. The two hands touching him moved independently, creating conflicting rhythms and demanding different movements. Without thinking, Hisoka shifted his weight, leaning forward a little, and the tiny lascivious touches to Kyo's bottom came into synch with the slow, steady squeeze, spiral, stroke above. A gratifying, panting whimper rewarded him for his efforts. Grinning, Hisoka slipped his forefinger in, penetrating only as far as the first joint, then bringing his thumb up to pinch and tug gently at the older boy's flesh. The taut muscles quivered, straining between the desire to expel the invader, and the need to draw it in entirely. A suggestive rub with the back of his wrist against the soft pouch of flesh settled the matter; Kyo jerked and slammed down onto his hand.

Splintering ecstasy rolled over the empath, sucking the breath from his lungs and raising a sheen of perspiration all across his skin. Limited though the contact was to just his two hands, Hisoka could feel every screaming, overloaded nerve in Kyo's body, feel every stuttering heartbeat, and every clenching muscle that struggled to hold back the violence singing in his blood. His senses came in compressed snapshots: the soft rasp of the sheets against his shoulders as he rocked back and forth, shoulders digging in as he arched off the mattress; the luminous heat of the sandalwood oil, like the candle's light made physical and solid; and in the ultimate feedback, Hisoka's fingers rubbing over that hidden treasure, deep inside, like molten gold… Kyo's sobbing, wordless pleas were hoarse.

Everything had been moving toward this single moment of completion.

With a sharp gasp of recognition, Hisoka entered Kyo at last, struggling to move with an awareness of what he did. Once in, he began to rock forward and back, diving into the heat of the older boy's body, and that pure, silken, sheathing pleasure swept away all other considerations. The pliant body welcomed Hisoka, heaven-blue eyes rolling up to stare sightless as he began to push more deeply, pumping into the other Shinigami's body. The few times he had penetrated Tsuzuki had never felt anything like this. Smaller, tighter, Kyo's body grasped him with exquisite force, wringing a sob from the trembling Shinigami. So immediate… so exquisitely there.

Hisoka felt the roar of white static flooding from the body under him, but this time, he wasn't being left behind. Rather, it swept him up, a raging cataract of sensation. It ripped sense and sensibility from him, overloading every neuron in his brain, and his last, giddy thought was that now he understood why some people called an orgasm "le petit mort."

It was very appropriate for a Shinigami.

***************

The heaped fieldstone and mortar of the tea shop's back wall bit through the shoulders of Takashi's professorial robes, scoring the tender skin of his shoulder blades and snagging at the fuzzy wool of his scarf. But there was no way to ease the pain, not with Tsuzuki's taller frame crushing him.

"Bastard." the smaller Shinigami hissed.

A wheeze of laughter answered him, and the bastard leaned his sweating forehead against the chilly, rough stone. "Aa…" he answered amiably. "But I still don't want you to interrupt them."

"That's twice now, that I've felt Kyo. Even at this range, I can tell something's going on. And this time, that something felt like… like…" he sputtered, glaring up at close range into the clear, iris-purple eyes of the older man.

"Like an orgasm?" Tsuzuki suggested softly. The body pinned beneath him jerked in protest. "Believe me, I have a very clear idea of what it felt like. But Hisoka wasn't trying to hurt him." His broad hand with its long fingers held Takashi's head steady, forcing the hazel eyes to meet his, and to hopefully see the sincerity.

"Hisoka-kun- " Takashi sputtered. "Oh, no. No, no, no!" He wrenched at the man holding him prisoner, flailing wildly. Stronger, larger, and more experienced, he was held fast, even when frantic curses had him on the verge of frenzied spitting. Of course, Tsuzuki would be one of the few Shinigami whose powers he couldn't tap into and borrow from. Of course, it would be Tsuzuki who had trapped him, while his partner did gods-knew-what to Kyo-- Desperate, the smaller redhead bit down on the hand that cupped his chin.

He was nearly free when Tsuzuki's lunge caught the flapping skirts of his black robes, spun him around, and slammed him back into the wall. Gasping, Tsuzuki protested, "Wait, baka! You promised to listen to what I had to say!"

"Never!" Snarling, Takashi snapped at the fingers again when they came too near, and even though the wound had been superficial and was already gone, the older brunet snatched his hand back.

"Please, Taka! Haven't you ever wondered why Shinigami always work in pairs? You and Kyo were mates from the very day that you came to us, but it isn't always that way. I should know, I ran through partners like coins through a slot machine, until the day I finally, finally got lucky with Hisoka… And even that was a struggle."

Pressed tight between the heavier man and the irregular wall, it was all Takashi could do to wheeze out a derisive laugh. "Oh, so that's why Hisoka is screwing my husband?! Come off it, Asato-kun, everyone knows Shinigami pair up to keep us on the straight and narrow, and that has nothing to do with Kyo!"

"Don't blame Hisoka." Tsuzuki said quietly. "I'm the one who put him up to it."

"What?" There was a distant, sibilant roaring in Takashi's ears; he had not heard Tsuzuki say that. It couldn't be true. "B- but why?" he stammered.

As the fight flowed from the younger man, Tsuzuki leaned wearily against him. "I did it for them, Taka. For the next time that you and I can't be there for them. If there's one thing I've learned from this damned mission to England, it's that there's wisdom in the old rules."

"C- can't be there…" Hysteria tinged Takashi's trembling laugh. "Damn it, you know I haven't been there for him! What `old rules?' Is this some kind of a sick joke?"

Sighing, Tsuzuki brought his arms up around the shorter man, rubbing his cheek soothingly over the windblown auburn strands of his hair. "Not a joke, although I wish it was." he said sadly. "I can't be enough for Hisoka, any more than you can for Kyo. They need more… We all do, if we're to survive this endless existence." Another sigh gusted from him, stirring the fine hair beneath his mouth. A shiver ran through the man in his arms, and Tsuzuki closed his eyes. "I need more, and so do you Takashi…" Blindly, heart trembling, his hand found the other Shinigami's chin again and tilted it up. He scarcely felt the stunned inhalation under the melting warmth of their mingled power as his lips sealed over Takashi's.

We all do.

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Tsuyosa

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