27-June-2003
Kaikan Phrase: Duet
by Yoiko and bonnejeanne
Contact: mightyyoiko@hotmail.com, bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Pairings: Sakuya x Yuki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers, Yaoi, Lemon
Part Five
They managed to make it back to Sakuya's apartment without further conversation. The singer allowed Yuki to help him up the stairs, although he did not use the guitar player's strength more than absolutely necessary. A folded note in the doorjamb confirmed that a visitor had come and left. Sakuya glanced at it and then dropped it in the waste bin.
Pulling off the sweater, he traded the altered dress pants for the cut-offs and pulled on a t-shirt that was abbreviated. Opening a small, mostly empty closet, he removed an acoustic guitar and held it out silently.
Yuki approached him hesitantly, and reached out for the guitar even more hesitantly, but he could no more deny the urge to create music than he could deny his feelings for Sakuya. Greatly daring, he leaned in to kiss Sakuya, his eager fingers finally touching the smooth wood of the guitar between them, accepting its slight weight reverently.
The singer's lips were not stiff, but responsive to the brief caress. His eyes lidded for the instant but did not close, focused on Yuki's face. His fingers loosened from the neck of the guitar as Yuki accepted it. Then he gripped the crutches again and crossed the short distance to the low bed. His leg ached with the exertions leaving him feeling once again impatient and angry with the physical limitations, but none of it showed on his face. With no expression he lifted the cast onto the bed and lay down.
"Do you want the other half of your pill, or would you rather have aspirin?" Yuki asked, setting the guitar down very gently before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. Sakuya did such a good job masking the pain that he hadn't noticed right off, but the tiniest fraction of tension in his lips had given him away, and once Yuki thought to look for them, the signs of Sakuya's discomfort were evident enough to him.
The question and act of getting the water brought a shade of the faintly sardonic smile to the corners of Sakuya's mouth. Had Yuki but known it, the expression was almost entirely self-mocking. When Yuki approached with both the bottle of aspirin and the stronger half-tablet, he plucked the latter out of Yuki's hand, swallowed it with a long drink of water, and then settled back into the pillow.
"Play something." It wasn't a request, nor was it exactly a command. A request could be refused, or made something of, a command could be mocked. It was a near-neutral expression of a desire, with the resignation to either outcome already built in.
"Sure," Yuki said, eagerly going to retrieve the guitar. After all, how could he not? His fingers were fairly itching to play! "Do you have any preference?" he asked, as he seated himself on the floor, curling around the guitar comfortably and checking that it was in tune.
"Your choice," the singer answered. He wouldn't admit a desire to hear Lucifer's songs, but they mingled in his inner ear along with his favorite of the hotel songs.
With a tiny bit of a mischievous smile, Yuki started playing the song Towa had written--the one Sakuya supposedly hadn't memorized yet. It was a challenging enough song to play, and he was grateful for the chance to practice it without having to go back for his own guitar. It seemed strange to him that Sakuya's presence could make him so nervous at almost any other time, but that he didn't feel at all shy about playing guitar in front of him... perhaps it was because this was one thing he could truly do well, and he didn't need anyone else's opinions to confirm that.
Sakuya's eyes closed as the guitar began to vibrate the chords and notes through the small, sparse room. He recognized the song of course - the one that had been lodged in his head the night of the wreck. He didn't bother to ask himself why it didn't make him angry. With his eyes shut, he opened his mouth and began to sing on the second stanza.
For the next few minutes, Yuki was completely transported; his fingers played on without conscious volition as he lost himself in the song, in Sakuya's voice giving life to the passionate lyrics and to his own playing. When the song ended, Yuki let the last note linger on the strings, feeling the familiar keen ache of loss at the ending of a magical moment; it was a feeling he got frequently during rehearsals and consistently during performances. Without waiting for any prompting from Sakuya, he started into another song, hoping to work his way through Lucifer's play-list before he had to stop.
It was not lost on him that Sakuya had sung Towa's song note-perfect.
Sakuya did not accompany him on every song - his voice seemed to wander in and out with almost random attention, but whenever it was there it was clear and focused. When he was silent on almost an entire song Yuki realized that the young man had actually fallen asleep. Once again his face relaxed into something much younger and vulnerable, the exhaustion and pain that he masked while awake leaving traces under closed, darkly lashed eyes and the soft set of his mouth.
Yuki's breath caught in his throat, and he finished the last song softly, and set the guitar aside. Much as he wanted to curl up in bed with Sakuya, or just watch him sleep, he thought the better of it. With a quiet, wistful sigh, he headed for the kitchen. He hoped to have dinner ready before Sakuya awoke.
Before he could do more than pull out preparation utensils, there was a quiet knock on the door. Sakuya didn't stir, his body refusing to give up the needed replenishment easily.
When Yuki opened the door, a familiar gold/brown-haired figure was starting to turn away, a paper sack having been placed next to the door where it wouldn't be missed.
Looking up at the door's movement, Santa's expression was mildly startled, changing to a smile as he recognized Yuki and a curious/reluctant look beyond him. "Hi," he said, his voice low. Picking up the paper sack he pushed it at Yuki. The guitar player could smell the aroma of take-out food.
"Santa..." Yuki said; it both surprised him and warmed his heart that Santa had thought to bring them dinner, but then, his brash friend was like that. "Domo arigato! Um... Sakuya's sleeping right now..."
"Ah!" the drummer seemed to relax a bit at that. He darted another glance beyond Yuki's shoulder and then pulled him a step into the hall so the door could be closed. Then he peered at Yuki keenly. "How is it? Is he treating you with some courtesy? You okay? Need anything? I can come by tomorrow after work if you need a break. With no practice..." he grimaced slightly.
"No!" Yuki said a little too emphatically, then eased up a bit. "No. It's fine. I'm fine; he's fine, and I'm getting enough chance to practice on my own." He gave Santa's shoulder a fond pat, then added, "I appreciate it, but really, we're Ok."
"Hmph, okay," Santa said, a touch a relief mixed with a closer scrutiny of his friend. "I meant, I had some time since the band isn't practicing. It's something we need to talk about soon, don't you think? How long he's going to be out... I'm not putting it past him to take this as an excuse to quit..."
"Don't even think it," Yuki said firmly. "We've been all over that before; without Sakuya, there *is* no Lucifer." He sighed, and his shoulders slumped a little. "I hope he won't want to quit because of this."
Santa's expression had darkened at Yuki's comment. Yes they had been all over it, but it didn't mean he was any more comfortable with the thought than before. Lucifer was *his* band. Yuki had walked from their old gig to form it with him, something he hadn't expected but which meant a lot more than he'd ever tried to express. Of course, that was before Sakuya.
"See if you can find out," he said, keeping his voice low. "I can't hang around in this kind of uncertainty forever, if it happens that you can. WE can wait for him... but only if he's willing to make a commitment. Otherwise, we're all wasting our time."
"I'll... I'll try to find out what he plans," Yuki said reluctantly; he understood the drummer's frustration all too well, but he also knew, instinctively, that to push Sakuya would drive him away. The decision had to be Sakuya's own, and made freely, or it was all pointless. "But... we don't lose anything by waiting for him to recover. Give it a few days, at least. Ok?"
Santa looked at his friend for a long moment, his expression stubborn, then his eyes softened. "Sure, Yuki," he said, dropping a hand on the guitar player's shoulder. "He just got home. Even Sakuya deserves a few days when his leg is busted up." He shook his head in reluctant sympathy. "Too bad about the bike. Unless he's got wealthy family or something, that's going to be hard to deal with. Well, I better go, before Sleeping Beauty wakes up then. Ja!"
"'Bye, Santa," Yuki said, feeling incredibly grateful and relieved. "And thanks." As he stepped back into the apartment, closing the door softly behind him, he wondered why he hadn't thought of Sakuya's motorcycle before. The singer valued his independence so much... how was he going to manage, with no mode of transportation? And what would it take to get the bike on the road again?
Sakuya was sitting up as Yuki came back in, his face still blurred a bit with sleep. He stretched and then reached for the crutches, getting up to make a trip to the bathroom. He glanced with only slight inquiry at Yuki. "You called for delivery?" he remarked, noticing the paper sack.
"Santa dropped it off," Yuki replied, knowing that Sakuya would probably be irritated but determined not to hide this simple fact from him; Santa was, after all, his closest friend. "He wanted to ask how you were doing."
The remark brought nothing more than a soft grunt from the singer before he disappeared into the bathroom. Emerging a few moments later, he approached the tiny kitchen. His expression was sardonic. "Is he looking for a new singer yet?"
"Not yet," Yuki said, with a hint of a wry smile; he really hadn't wanted to open this particular can of worms just yet. "They're... we're all willing to wait for you to recover fully. If you're still going to sing, that is. Ah, beef okonomiyaki," he added hastily, trying not to think about Santa sitting at home, eating cup Ramen for dinner because he'd spent his food money on them. "It smells wonderful!"
"It would be stupid for all of you to wait," Sakuya said, pulling out bowls and chopsticks. "You should have invited him in to share this."
Yuki put down the container a little forcefully and turned to face Sakuya. "Why would it be stupid for us to wait?" he asked. "You're our singer, and we need you and we want you and we'll wait for you. Maybe that's not stupid. Maybe we just have more faith in Lucifer, and in you, than you do."
A raised eyebrow answered this impassioned speech. "That is probably true. I don't see the point in bothering with faith. Trying to accomplish something based on faith, you are bound to fail, because at some point faith always falters." Propped on the crutches tucked under his arms, Sakuya reached over and took the carton out of Yuki's hands and served a portion into one of the two bowls. "There's rice?"
"You're wrong," Yuki said quietly. "The things most worth pursuing in this life require faith. It's faith that carries you through setbacks and keeps you going until you *do* achieve your goal."
Sakuya gazed at Yuki for a moment, his blue eyes unreadable. Then he reached out and took the paper sack away from Yuki, to pull the container of rice out. "It sounds like a poor substitute for determination."
"Call it what you want to," Yuki said. "I believe in you, and in us. And I'll keep believing, because I know that the five of us together could really make the world sit up and listen. And I don't care what you say, I'm not giving up!"
"In that case you'd better eat something, unless faith will keep you going without fuel," the singer remarked, and the corner of his mouth seemed to try and twitch slightly.
Yuki sighed, and an answering almost-smile twitched the corners of his own mouth as the tension he'd been feeling suddenly evaporated. "I suppose so," he said, and helped dish their meal up in a much lighter frame of mind. After all, Sakuya had not yet kicked him out of the apartment, and had even allowed him liberties he would never have dreamed of just a few short days before. Yuki already *knew* that faith worked miracles!
Sakuya found that the guitarist's idealism made him feel restless. He ate quickly and left the remains on the tray. Getting up, he used the crutches to go out to the tiny balcony, staring out at the city's night-persona. Lights twinkled, traffic was still a constant, muted presence, the night wind was barely enough to stir his hair. No piano. No bike to ride. Not even two good legs to run on until he was exhausted. The dangerous intoxication of a gig with the rest of Lucifer was further away than ever. Yuki might have his faith but it was a concept Sakuya couldn't pretend to accept. Faith was just blindness and blindness only made it easier for people to use you.
Yuki paused at the doorway, thinking that Sakuya looked for all the world like a caged animal, trapped and restless. The fact that he'd contributed to that restlessness was not lost on him... but he had no idea what he could possibly do to help. Hesitantly, knowing that his presence might not be welcome, he stepped out onto the balcony and leaned on the short wall, breathing deeply of the evening air.
"What would it take," he asked in a soft, low voice, not wanting to intrude on the quiet moment, "to get your motorcycle up and running again?"
The look Sakuya gave him was unreadable. "Money and time. One I have, the other no. But it's not your concern."
"I was thinking... if you can stand it, maybe I could stay here. I mean... live here, pay rent..." Yuki didn't dare look at Sakuya as he made the suggestion; he stared at his own hands, folded over the railing, the fingers clenched nervously. It would be income for Sakuya, while he was laid up... but it would also mean *freedom* for Yuki.
On the other hand, he really couldn't imagine a private person like Sakuya consenting to a permanent invasion of his privacy; he didn't dare let his hopes rise too high, any more than he dared to reveal how important it was to him.
The singer stilled for a moment to complete immobility. The next moment he acted with far more speed and dexterity than he should have had, pressing Yuki against the railing even with the crutches under his arms. Fingers like flexible steel gripped the back of Yuki's neck as Sakuya's uncanny blue eyes stared into Yuki's, seeming to see into him, to read every concealed thought or wish.
He seemed almost angry... and at the same time oddly amused, almost disdainful... but even beneath that, there was a hint, a glimpse of something else, something his habitually distant exterior had been constructed to conceal.
The stare held for several of Yuki's suddenly speeding heartbeats, and then the singer's mouth curved in an expression that was either cruel, or self derisive. Closing the distance, Sakuya's mouth covered Yuki's as he held him with that unyielding grip. The invasion was intense, bordering on brutal... it almost had the flavor of a warning.
Then everything shut down and Yuki was released. He had a glimpse of the cool mask of indifference carefully sealing back over Sakuya's features as he turned away and went back into the apartment, swinging the crutches deftly.
"Do as you like."
Yuki sagged back against the railing, weak-kneed, and then the import of what Sakuya had just said sunk in. A slow grin stole over his face, and as the excitement and happiness bubbled up in him, he walked back into the apartment. "Really?" he asked. "You don't mind? I can get my guitar and settle in tomorrow!"
The rest of his things were irrelevant; he'd pick up his beloved guitar and bid his father a respectful farewell, and walk away a free man. He had enough in savings to support him long enough to find work, and beyond that... beyond that, he didn't care!
With his back to Yuki, Sakuya paused for a moment, hearing the elation in the guitar player's voice.
His mouth curved slightly. "Hn. For as long as you think you can take it," he said.
"Oh, I can take it," Yuki replied, pulling himself together though he couldn't help the smile that curved his lips irrepressibly. "But how much of my doing as I like can *you* take? ...because I can think of one or two things I'd like to do."
Sakuya stilled for a moment and then he turned on the crutches, blue eyes glimmering at Yuki like arching electricity. "You seem to have a thing about issuing challenges," he said, his voice soft. "What... things...?"
Yuki stepped in close enough to feel the heat of Sakuya's body, and leaned up to kiss him lightly, teasingly inviting a response. It wasn't that he wanted to challenge Sakuya so much as that Sakuya made him feel... reckless, and free. It wasn't a feeling Yuki had gotten to indulge in much in his lifetime, and he was all but drunk with it, nearly giddy with the knowledge that he could make his own decisions, and the hope that Sakuya might want to be part of those decisions.
The singer's eyes lidded at the caress, mouth opening to accept a taste of Yuki's tongue. He could almost respond to Yuki's excitement, almost feel the beginnings of a fond affection, almost begin to form the thought of waking up to something other than an empty apartment and an equally empty life... and the awareness of all those sudden shifts and how easily they could sneak up on him sent a brief shock through his system. How long would it last? A week? A month? A few days until the glamour or novelty wore off and then...
Deliberately, Sakuya licked his lips, and then turned away, crossing to the bed to discard the crutches and settle his body across the mattress.
Yuki followed smoothly, hoping that Sakuya's actions were really the invitation they seemed to be. His eyes roamed over Sakuya's lean, graceful form, teasingly half-bared by the cutoffs and cropped T-shirt. Slowly, so that Sakuya would have opportunity to stop him if he wished, Yuki lowered himself onto the bed, straddling the singer's narrow hips and leaning in for a sweet, slow kiss.
Sakuya looked up through his lashes and waited for the kiss, his mouth opening to accept Yuki's tongue, responding in no kind of hurry, a sense of languidity seeping into his form. His hands lifted and moved through the guitarist's dark curtain of hair. Doing this, he found escape from his thoughts, and even some of his feelings. The kiss awakened his body and Yuki's position above him brought images of a very heated nature to mind.
The kiss was soft, and sensual, and carnal; Yuki's body arched in an achingly slow rhythm, hips dipping low to fleetingly press against Sakuya, rising away as their lips met. The sweet ache of need built as Yuki continued the slow undulation, but he lost himself in the unhurried pleasure, the softness of Sakuya's lips, the slick friction of their tongues rubbing together.
It pleased Sakuya in some corner of his mind, to observe how bold Yuki was becoming even with just a little experience. And encouragement, he admitted. If only he'd discard that archaic sentimentality, he could wreak havoc across the bar scene, the singer thought cynically, even as his body responded almost painfully to the dance of contact and abandonment that Yuki was doing over him. As he returned the kiss, keeping the same slow pace, his hands drifted up to settle on the guitarist's hips. Gripping through the material of his pants, Sakuya squeezed the slightly curved flesh. His fingertips followed the back seam of the garment, dipping down between his legs, rubbing along the material. Releasing Yuki's mouth, he gazed up to catch any nuance of expression on the young musician's face.
What he saw wasn't too surprising; Sakuya was familiar with that needy expression. Yuki's lips were half-parted, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a dark, stormy grey, and his aristocratic features were drawn up in the same near-desperate look Sakuya had seen so many times before on so many different faces. The difference was that Yuki's need wasn't entirely selfish, or focused solely on the pleasure his body could afford; it was for *him*, Sakuya, that Yuki hungered.
Yuki felt his breath catching in his throat, and he found himself mesmerized, caught by those startlingly blue, half-lidded eyes. He couldn't quite keep still; he arched slightly, pressing back into Sakuya's warm hands, wanting but not daring to ask for more.
The singer allowed himself a moment to enjoy Yuki's expression. He liked that look. It gave him a sense of power. Sakuya liked having it even when he didn't bother to use it. The unusual vulnerability he saw in it this time rubbed against emotions he made a habit of sequestering, but it wasn't that hard to ignore them. All he had to do was remember that once, oh it might have seemed a long time ago, once the vulnerable one had been himself. Never again.
Yuki's restlessness was good. Sakuya squeezed his hips again, and then slid his hands around those hips to the front, finding the outline of the guitar player's cock pushing against the material and tracing its contour with his thumbs. The slight curve forming at the corners of his mouth deepened into a smile that was entirely devoid of innocence.
"Think you want to go all the way this time?" he murmured softly, his voice a low purr.
So, this time Sakuya was doing the challenging! Yuki smiled, squirming in a futile effort to increase the pressure of Sakuya's hands through his jeans. He wanted to say something clever about being up to the challenge, but with those long hands stroking him, butterfly-light, the best he could manage was a mute, affirmative nod. Anything Sakuya wanted... anything at all...
He lowered his head to kiss Sakuya again, fiercely this time, pouring his pent-up need and hunger and longing into it.
It made a part of Sakuya want to get up and screw Yuki to the wall right there. The young man shouldn't be so open. It would get him hurt, and badly. And a very small secret spark inside the singer wanted to be the one who did it. Nipping lightly at Yuki's lips, he stuffed that spark into one of several dark holes in his psyche. This wasn't a time for thinking. It was a time for feeling and doing whatever would feel good. Tilting his hips, he rubbed his own growing ache up against Yuki's crotch. His fingers worked in between them, pulling loose the snap on Yuki's jeans and working his zipper down inch by inch.
Yuki groaned softly as the too-tight constriction of his jeans slowly eased; his own fingers worked a little clumsily at Sakuya's shorts as he lost himself in kissing Sakuya, lost himself in the slide of lips and tongue under his own, and the sweet ache of teasingly soft pressure where he wanted it most. The touch of Sakuya's fingers was just light enough to build the need without relieving it, and combined with the knowledge of what he'd agreed to do, it was enough to drive Yuki near-mad with impatience.
Taking his time, Sakuya lifted Yuki out of the open fly of his jeans, protecting the tender, sensitive and in one area swollen flesh from the rough harshness of the zipper's brass teeth with his hands. The guitar player certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. Sakura's eyes half-lidded like a cat's as he plundered Yuki's mouth. After a while they both needed more air than they were getting and their mouths parted. Feeling the burn run through his nerves, Sakuya watched Yuki toss his hair back. Letting his fingers slide away from their occupation with a pleasant ache of reluctance, he murmured, "Take those off, hmm?"
Yuki had to stand to finish shucking the jeans off, and he just barely managed it with his knees turned to water. Sakuya was watching him with those smolderingly sexy eyes as he sank back onto the mattress, pulling the cutoff shorts away gently, his fingers sliding over bare skin. Yuki's eyes lowered, fixed on the proud, stiff length of Sakuya's cock as it was revealed; musingly, Yuki swiped one fingertip over the blunt head and licked it, tasting salt.
Sakuya's eyes closed tightly for a second at the oh so brief touch, then opened again, fixed on Yuki's face. Pushing up on his elbows, he closed the gap between himself and the guitar player. Sitting up the rest of the way, he slid an arm around Yuki's waist. Using Yuki's body to anchor him and give him a little extra leverage, he reached with the other arm under the low bed, pulling a duffle from underneath. Reaching inside, he retrieved a small tube from where he'd tucked it the last time.
Dropping it next to him, Sakuya slid his hand between them to wrap his fingers around Yuki's erection.
Yuki blushed fiercely at the sight of the small tube; somehow, its presence only underscored what they'd just agreed to do. For a moment, the almost-clinical necessity threatened to diminish the mood, but the sensation of long, warm fingers touching him, wrapping around him with a sure grip, was all it took to keep him in a feverish haze. With a whispered groan of need, Yuki buried his face against Sakuya's neck, hoping not to come too soon as his hips started to shift in an instinctive, irrepressible drive.
"Sakuya..." he whispered.
The sound sent a small shiver up Sakuya's spine. He'd supposed that he'd become immune to hearing his name on a lover's lips, but Yuki's voice pulled at him, escalating the heat. He tilted his head slightly, bringing it closer to the face buried against his neck, nuzzling Yuki's dark hair. Holding the young man securely, he answered the helpless movement of Yuki's hips with his hand, stroking him. But he didn't let the dark haired guitarist reach his climax yet, gripping him snugly before it happened, feeling him squirm helplessly on Sakuya's lap.
His own cock was aching, weeping a little as if anticipating satisfaction. It was a little awkward, thumbing the tube open, everything was awkward with the damn cast, and he finally ended up tumbling Yuki across his lap. The picture made up quite a bit for the frustration.
Before Yuki could adjust or shift from the new position, deft, slippery-coated fingers were exploring his backside, delving into the cleft of his rear with undisguised intent.
Yuki tensed, feeling awkward and slightly embarrassed by his position, and a little... well, not really surprised, but the feeling of being touched *there* was somehow shocking, for all that he'd been expecting and longing for it. "Sakuya," he whispered, hiding his face in the covers, and he whimpered softly as one slick digit pressed for entrance.
With his face in the sheets, Yuki was spared the smile that answered his muffled soft sound. Sakuya's eyelids dropped until they were all but closed, hiding his amazing blue eyes. A flash of memory of his own first time to experience this performed a quick hit and run. He made it easier than that on Yuki, using fingers schooled and strengthened by the piano, to circle the puckered opening, pressing firmly but not with jabbing force. Without realizing it, as he focused on the tight ring of muscle in the lovely valley of Yuki's behind, a low, soothing hum, not quite a croon, vibrated the singer's throat, coaxing the young guitar player's body to relax a little and allow entry.
When it happened, he bent down and kissed the smooth curve beside his hand, murmuring a wordless approval to go with the caress. Working the intrusion deeper and deeper, he curved his finger to follow the inner contours of the warm body enclosing it.
Yuki relaxed, melting at the sound of Sakuya's voice, the feeling of that soft kiss, and then he felt a sudden jolt of sensation inside, deliciously intense, and he moved instinctively, trying to push back against Sakuya's hand to get more of that feeling. His hair was all over, in his face and in his mouth, but he couldn't seem to coordinate enough to release the fistfuls of bedding he was clinging to and brush it out of the way. He was unaware of the soft, desperate little sounds he was making, and any embarrassment he had felt initially had completely vanished; all he knew was that Sakuya touched him, and he burned.
The singer chuckled softly at Yuki's backwards push, and answered it by targeting the spot with more attention. Sliding his other arm under Yuki's middle to encircle and support his body, Sakuya began thrusting his finger in and out, slowly and rather gently at first, increasing tempo and force gradually with each answering response from the guitar player. Now Yuki would understand what this was really about... at least he would when he could think again. The impact of Yuki, sight, sound and feel, as he moved so needfully, shoved the painful ache in Sakuya's groin up to near-unbearable levels.
Gradually he eased back, knowing he was leaving Yuki unsatisfied for the moment but certain he would be able to rectify that very soon.
Yuki groaned as Sakuya's hands left him; he had been so close... dimly, awareness returned, and he loosened his death-grip on the bedding and started to rise, tossing his hair back.
Sakuya leaned back, watching, his expression a confident invitation. He tapped his fingers lightly on the tube of lubricant. "Use this," he said, his voice low and almost caressing. "Take it slow at first." His voice almost caught as a hard flash of what he really wanted to do to Yuki filled his mind's eye. But that would have to wait. Bloody weeks, maybe months, it would have to wait. And by then... Tucking the mental image away in another dark corner, he trailed his fingers from the tube to his thigh and idly up along his body, watching Yuki's eyes.
Yuki's fingers trembled as he squeezed out a dollop of the lube; the fact that Sakuya was watching him intently made him feel awkward and a bit shy, despite all that had already passed between them. Blushing, Yuki reached out to wrap his warm, slick fingers around Sakuya's cock, stroking it slowly from base to tip, loving the feel of it, hot and solid against his palm, and the way Sakuya's eyelids lowered in pleasure at his touch.
After a few moments, Yuki pulled his hand away and shifted, straddling Sakuya's narrow hips. The singer's vivid blue eyes opened again, watching him as he slowly began to lower himself. Yuki bit his lip, his eyes squeezing shut and a soft whimper escaping him as tight muscles resisted the penetration. They suddenly gave way in quivering acceptance, and Yuki cried out, astonished.
His cry was underscored by a low, purring groan from Sakuya as he was enclosed by the tight heat of Yuki's body. It felt good... so good, too good... For a few seconds the singer abandoned himself to the pleasure. He felt Yuki's body shift around him and felt the guitar player's body lift reflexively and then move down, instinctively seeking that intense sensation he'd felt before.
Sakura's lips curved in a full smile and his eyes opened as he forced a deep breath through his lungs, controlling it, focusing the feelings and drawing them out with delicious tension. His eyes fastened on Yuki's face. It must have been the almost jerky shift of Yuki's hips that sent an electric tingle through Sakuya, not the purity of his expression. Taking another deep breath, the singer slid one hand along Yuki's thigh then fastened on his hip, and found the guitar player's weeping erection with the other. He sought and found the rhythm of the other man's pulse and began rocking beneath him, matching the rhythm, smoothing it a bit. "That's... good," he managed to say hoarsely, letting his pleasure speak through the last word.
Yuki groaned, finding the rhythm at last and surrendering to it. His thoughts froze as his entire world narrowed to Sakuya, to the passion-hazed blue eyes and flushed face of the man he loved. Yuki's breath was coming out in short gasps, and much as he desperately wanted to prolong the experience, he needed even more to reach the release he'd been on the brink of for so long. Sakuya's husky voice, speaking words of approval, sent shivers down his spine, and Yuki snapped his hips forward again and again, relentlessly caught between the slow burning ache and the sharp exquisite bursts of sensation, building and gathering until finally it shattered into pleasure. His hips were still pumping blindly as he cried out, riding out the last shuddering spasm.
Sakuya gasped, arching under Yuki's thrashing hips, letting himself be swept up in the frantic energy and friction of Yuki's release triggering his own. His fingers dug into the flesh of Yuki's hips as he pushed the guitar player down, lifting from the bed's surface as his body emptied into the hot tight confines of Yuki's body. Waves of pleasure swept through his entire body, freeing him in the wash of sensation from the emptiness, the bitterness, the fear and anger and isolation.
The pain that stabbed along his right side was dulled by the flood of endorphins. He felt Yuki waver and caught the guitar player as he slipped forward, moving a little under him to shift the weight more against the left side of his body. The fingers of his right hand found and tangled in strands of long, dark hair. His lips formed around syllables, the tone caressing yet still a little careless. "Yukifumi..."
Yuki pressed a kiss to Sakuya's shoulder, almost reverently, and bit back the words "I love you" that wanted so desperately to be said. Instead, he whispered, "thank you, Sakuya..." feeling awed and strangely different, as though a mystery had been revealed to him at last, or as though he was becoming more himself than he'd ever been. Yuki wondered if every time they were together would have this sense of revelation for him; he hoped it would. He hoped he would have the opportunity to find out.
He did love Sakuya, more than he'd even realized. He loved everything about him, from the taste of his skin to his coolly distant attitude to the way his voice sounded, rough and sweet, in this moment of aftermath.
Sakuya's eyes were drifting closed, but they fluttered at Yuki's words. He gave a little tug on the lock of hair he was loosely holding. "So polite," he murmured sleepily. His body was exhausted, but also completely relaxed. He had the strange feeling there was something else he was supposed to do, something he was forgetting, but the warmth from two bodies together added to the lethargy and he curled his body a little into it, as much as the cast would allow, and surrendered to Morpheus.
"Usually," Yuki whispered softly. He lay awake for a long time, watching as Sakuya's breathing settled out into the deep, even rhythm of sleep. Carefully, he eased out of the bed and padded to the bathroom to clean himself up. He ached a bit with each step, a reminder of what had happened, and he definitely felt uncomfortably, ticklishly slimy now that the lubrication wasn't needed. He made quick use of a washcloth, then climbed just as carefully back into bed and curled up against Sakuya's side, pulling the covers over them both and finally relaxing with a sigh.
TBC