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The Dance	By : jeisvenka Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Backleading

He
couldn't stop thinking about it.

He'd
just stood there like an idiot. Stood there, and watched the man
escape.

His
teammates weren't upset with him. Hell, they hadn't put up much more
of a fight than he had, when Schwarz decided to turn tail. Then there
was that... God only knows whySchwarz
had fled. From his teammate's downtrodden looks, nobody on the white
side had had the upper hand, and it would've been all too easy for
their darker counterparts to end it all.

End
it all… that phrase sent a shiver down his spine.

How
close had he been? How easy would it have been for Farfarello to lean
in just a little bit further, just a few more centimeters, and snuff
the life out of him? Yohji replayed the scene in his mind hundreds of
times, and still couldn't come up with a logical explanation for what
had occurred. Farfarello had pulled away. He was sure of it.

Butwhy?
And then, when he himself had the perfect chance to turn the tables
and win one for the team, he'd blanched.

He
snuffed another cigarette into oblivion, bringing up a bottle to try
and drown the feeling he got when he recalled that moment.

The
feeling of the wire in his gloved hands, pulled taught. The feeling
that something was wrong with the scene, as if somehow, this moment
didn't belong to him. He hadn't earned it. The look in the other
man's eye. Not pain. No, never pain. Not the resignation of death,
nor the burn of battle. No, this look, the look reflected in that
amber eye, was one of intense amusement. As if his own death were
cause for entertainment.

And
after that…

After
that… Yohji didn't care to think about. After that was a blur. A
blur that made his head throb and his body tingle confusingly. Made
his lips… his lips…

He
breathed a sigh, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling, as
if it contained all the answers to the universe.

He'd
never been kissed like that before.

It
was… horrifying.

Thrilling.

The
mere thought of it sent a warm shiver across his skin, and made his
insides clench uncomfortably. For some reason, he'd always thought
Farfarello would feel cold, like one of the many corpses he left in
his wake. He thought that if one of those hands ever touched him, it
would feel stale and decaying. But there was no denying that the
warmth that passed through that skin was just as alive as Yohji's.

In
fact, when he'd brought their faces together, despite the wire
pulling even tighter around his neck at the motion, Yohji had gotten
the distinct impression that all that burning life was flowing
straight into him.

Suddenly,
he felt strange. His skin crawled, although not unpleasantly, and he
felt immensely hypersensitive to his surroundings. The room around
him felt uncomfortably small, and he felt trapped and claustrophobic
within its walls.

Although
he knew better than to walk around town drunk, because he KNEW he was
drunk, the feeling wouldn't leave until he felt the sting of the cool
night air outside his apartment. Yeah, this was all he needed. A
little fresh air. A little cool breeze to freeze away all those
feelings that made Yohji want to puke and gasp at the same time.
Before he knew it, he was down the stairs and off down the sidewalk.
Well, now that he was out, what better place to go than a bar? He was
already half wasted. What good was it to let the other half go
unfulfilled? The night felt fantastic, so the thought of taking a car
didn't even cross his mind, and soon he saw the lights from his
favorite pub flashing in the distance. A quick flashy smile to the
bouncer and he was surrounded by a throng of people, all pulsing to
some unfamiliar techno beat.

Ah,
home sweet home.

He
picked his way through the masses and wound up at the bar. There were
a few gorgeous chicks sprinkled nearby, but somehow he just couldn't
get into the mood tonight. Of course, a few drinks might change that.

It
wasn't until several minutes later that his mind slowly wandered back
to earlier. In his drunken stupor, he didn't bother restraining his
thought process, and the entire thing played out in all its foggy
glory. The dance, the crash… the kiss, his embarrassment. Had
anyone else seen? No.

Then,
the moment when he'd turned his attention back to the Irishman. His
stomach knotted, and his hand tightened around a half-empty glass.
He'd almost forgotten.

That
look in the man's eye. There wasn't a single sliver of the amusement
that'd been present only moments before. It was like that single
amber eye was burning, swallowing him into the depths of Hell. If
Farfarello were a cannibal, not that Yohji doubted the possibility,
he seriously would've considered the idea that the psychopath wanted
to eat him, or at least shred him up into tiny bite-sized pieces.

His
stomach did a little flip, and he felt slightly sick, the bile
gathering threateningly in the back of his throat. But maybe that was
just the alcohol.

After
pushing himself from the bar, Yohji made a b-line for the restroom,
and found himself a nice toilet to perch over. Several unappetizing
noises were coming from various corners of the facility, and the
steady beat made the water dance in its porcelain confines.

Just
as he was about to abandon the idea of puking, something pressed its
way up his side, pushing him into the stall and letting the door slam
shut behind them.

"Hey,
buddy! Come on now, I don't swing that way," he said
half-jokingly as hand latched onto his other side and he felt a body
press hard against his back, warm breaths and lips and teeth rasping
against the back of his neck under his thick hair. Yohji squirmed,
deciding that this was definitely not the time to be trying out new
things.

"I
don't give a fuck which way you swing," a familiar voice snarled
darkly, and Yohji's mind shut down, his skin turning to ice and
aching in rhythm to the techno. Which was probably a good thing,
because at that moment, the man's fingers started clawing at his
sides, tearing at his clothing as if it were tissue, drawing blood in
an effort to get to the fragile skin underneath.

The
feeling of teeth digging hard into his shoulder popped Yohji back
into the present, and he wrenched himself away from those demanding
appendages, turning to face his opponent, only to have a hand come up
underneath his chin and pin him against the back wall, his leg pinned
painfully against the toilet. The pale, scarred face of his attacker
was almost unrecognizable, twisted into some primeval expression that
Yohji couldn't comprehend.

But
he could comprehend this: if he didn't do something soon, something
very bad
was going to happen.

Pulling
his lanky arms into a more useable position, Yohji managed to get his
fingers around one of Farfarello's hands, another hand against the
man's chest, and used all his energy reserves to slam him back
against the door of the stall. The door groaned, but held its
position, which was unfortunate for Yohji, since that dramatically
lessened his chances of escape and survival. And there it was again.
That look. The look that felt like the white-haired man was going to
tear him apart and eat his liver, or something else equally
gut-wrenching.

Yohji
swallowed, weighing the possibilities. He could try to escape again,
and probably die. He could try to fight, without a weapon, and
definitely die. He could curl up into a ball and cry, and die. Or he
could go with plan D.

Without
so much as a second thought, because he definitely did NOT want to
think about this, he pitched himself forward. The smaller man steeled
himself for the attack, but… it didn't come quite the way he'd
planned. Yohji caught one of the his wrists, gave up on finding the
other, and skillfully attached his mouth around Farfarello's.

Farfarello
let out a surprised noise, sounding almost like something a strangled
dog would make, although it was extremely muffled by the obvious.
Yohji brought his hand up to rest on the Irishman's neck, guiding his
actions, and he felt the hand, the one he'd failed to catch, clench
around some of the fabric on his back, although it did nothing to
push him closer or pull him away.

Yohji
took this as an invitation, and began slowly working at the smaller
man's mouth. He nipped slightly, suckling and pulling at the man's
lips, setting the pace slow but firm, trying to make it clear that he
was in charge, for what little good that would do him. After a
moment, he felt the muscles of the man in front of him begin to
loosen, and he pressed his tongue between the man's full lips, raking
it against his teeth. Farfarello opened his mouth easily, and Yohji
sucked on his tongue, not yet feeling very eager to get his own
inside that dangerous mouth. He kept it up for a while, trying not to
think about who
he was kissing, just that he had to do a damned good job, until he
felt vibrations moving through the other man's throat.

Slightly
pleased with himself, he slowly released the man's wrist, tracing a
pathway with his fingers down to the man's elbow, up to his shoulder,
across is chest, and then down… Farfarello made his first audible
noise when Yohji's fingers snaked up underneath his shirt, finding
the bare skin of his abdomen. The sound, a half-contained mix between
a purr and a growl, burned straight across Yohji's tongue, through
his stomach, down to ignite against his nether regions. A moan
wrenched its way up his own throat, and he forcefully broke the kiss
before it could travel across their connection. When he finally
regained his composure enough to look at his "opponent," he
found Farfarello already staring at him, his eye half-closed with a
sort of dazed expression. The smaller man's face was flushed, and he
was panting roughly. His wrist was against the stall door, as if
Yohji's hand were still there to pin it, instead of being halfway up
his shirt. Yohji tried not to stare, but the other man was… quite
definitely… aroused, and frankly, he didn't know what to do about
it.

After
a moment, Farfarello blinked a few times, then started to fidget,
slowly recovering. Yohji pressed his body against him, bringing his
lips to rest against the berserker's cheek. The man stilled again. He
cautiously avoided contact with any of the more sensitive
areas that might set the smaller man off, well aware that he hadn't
expected things to go this far. Honestly, he thought Farfarello was
going to rip him up as soon as he got within arm's length. Not that
it wasn't still an option, of which the unyielding clenched hand on
his back made him painfully aware.

He
slowly brought his mouth up, buying himself time, tugging gently at
one of the many dangling loop earrings. Warm, moist breath swept in
waves across the side of his face, and he was painfully aware of how
their chests were pressed together, Farfarello's muscular, but not
bulky. The man's shoulders and arms were strong, but almost
effeminate in their delicacy. And that face. If you took away the
scars and gave him back the other eye, he looked almost… pretty. He
brought his mouth down, making a wide sweep of gentle kisses across
the man's softly sloping jaw line.

Farfarello
breathed harder at the bodily contact, but otherwise did nothing.
Yohji wasn't sure the man knew what to
do. Yohji wasn't sure he
knew what to do. The whole situation was… well, ludicrous would be
an understatement, and yet it was a fact: his pants felt tighter than
they had in a very long time. His stomach tightened uncomfortably at
the idea of… that with… him, but his swollen member throbbed
guiltily, pressing vainly against the tight fabric of his pleather
jeans. And yet, Farfarello wouldn't make a move. Yohji almost wished
he would, so that he couldn't be held responsible for whatever
happened. But no, nothing. Farfarello was a steaming, breathing,
pulsing, annoyingly impassive prick.

Well,
fine! If he didn't want to decide, then Yohji wouldn't grace him with
the option. He didn't get
a choice. And if he was unhappy with the outcome, well fuck him.

Yeah…
fuck him. Yohji's breath came in a short gasp, and his cock twitched
hard against that unyielding fabric. When had it come to that? Where
was the fine line when survival became sexualized? It took him a
moment, but he finally realized… The attack, the kiss, the wild
stare that both terrified and intoxicated him. Everything thrived and
was destroyed with equal pleasure to his young opponent. Both death
and life had equal pull to him, and both were explicitly intertwined.
So when had survival become sexualized? The very beginning. When
Farfarello chose to attack him.
Singled him out. Led the first dance. And he was given the option
then, wordlessly, to die… or to truly live.

"Come
on," he said lowly, untangling himself and unlatching the stall
door. Farfarello's eye grew wide for a moment, but Yohji refused to
meet them. He pried the pale hand from his back and took it firmly in
his own, pulling the warm body after him, out of the restroom,
through the throbbing mass of people, out the door, and into…
where? He didn't bring his car. Shit. Shit shit. Well, not that he
could've exactly taken him home in the first place. But now that he'd
decided what he wanted, he could momentarily ignore the aches in his
body, if only long enough to find someplace moderately clean.

There
was a hotel, maybe two blocks away. Unimaginably clean. Not cheap,
but it had a nice, springy mattress… He swallowed, breathing hard,
and set off in that direction, Farfarello clamped onto his hand as if
that connection could save him from God Himself. Two blocks was
almost unbearably far, and they stopped several times, against the
brick walls of buildings, or signposts, or parked cars, sucking and
biting hungrily at fingers and necks and mouths. Farfarello didn't
ask where they were going, and Yohji wondered briefly if he even
cared. He was starting to get that frightening look in his eye again,
and Yohji had a feeling that if it took too much longer to get to the
hotel, he would be travelling back home in pieces.

But
as things often do in times of need, the hotel popped up, bright and
welcoming, right as Farfarello's fingernails started digging
painfully into Yohji's hand. They went through the double doors,
gaining several looks from foreign guests and businessmen, and Yohji
briefly considered how they must look. A pale, scarred man with one
eye clenching the hand of a drunken, disheveled, inhumanly sexy
blond. Well, they certainly didn't look rich, from the look the woman
tending the front desk gave them. She was eyeing the security guard,
while still forcefully trying to look pleasant. That's when it hit
him.

He
hadn't brought his wallet.

He
hadn't brought anything, not even an ID. Fuck. He clenched the hand
connected to his, wondering if Farfarello was going to gut him after
finding out. Or maybe they could just fuck in an alleyway, even
though the very idea made him gag.

There
was a movement to his side, and something flashed across his vision,
sliding itself neatly onto the counter underneath a gorgeous pale
hand. It took him, and apparently the woman as well, a moment to
realize what it was. A gold check card.

"Um,
may I see some ID?" Another flash, although Yohji couldn't get a
good glimpse of it.

Farfarello
saw his curiosity, and mumbled something, although Yohji could only
catch what sounded like, "…go out of their way to take bad
pictures…"

"We
have two rooms, one with twin beds and one with a king," the
woman said, trying to keep her voice even.

"We
want the king." Yohji felt Farfarello's grin without even having
to look. He was enjoying this. Well, it wasn't exactly giving Yohji
any grief either, he admitted to himself with a mental chuckle.

They
procured their room key without any further trouble, and were into
the nearest empty elevator in record time. Yohji pressed Farfarello
against the wall, fumbling around stupidly for the button, and only
after a few seconds realizing that yes, he really did need to look at
what he was doing, before returning to his partner. His hands snaked
around the other man's hips, pulling them forward as Yohji leaned
into him, his upper leg pushing its way between the white-haired
man's thighs, until the man was practically riding his leg.
Farfarello inhaled sharply, surprised at the suddenness, since they'd
only pressed arms and lips and chests before now, but leaned forward
all the same, standing on his toes and using the wall to
painstakingly hump the older man's leg. Yohji helped create friction,
rubbing his thigh against the Irishman's pelvis, enjoying the
occasional pained noise of pleasure that Farfarello failed to stifle.

Their
floor came all too quickly, and Yohji parted a bit too suddenly,
earning himself a few long scratches as Farfarello forced them back
together again for a final rub.

"Come
on," Yohji said, keeping the elevator door open with one hand as
Farfarello leaned heavily against him, trying vainly to regain the
friction Yohji had so abruptly removed. "Come on,"
Yohji murmured, exasperated, his own need throbbing painfully by this
point. He paused for a moment, gaining no positive reaction from
Farfarello, and then leaned in close, blowing in his partner's ear.
Farfarello grew still, and Yohji took the chance to murmur in his
lowest, most seductive voice, "If you think this
is good…" He could physically feel the shiver run across
Farfarello's skin. And then, after a moment of contemplation, the man
backed off. Yohji practically leaped with joy, and they
half-stumbled, half-fondled each other until finally, finally
reaching the room.

Farfarello
pinned him against the door, kissing his neck, his chest, his face,
as Yohji fumbled with the key, the hall lights almost blinding in
their intensity. After finally and suddenly unlocking and opening the
damned contraption, and they both tumbled in. The door shut
automatically with a click, and Farfarello was on him like a wolf,
whatever public reservations he'd had (Yohji was amazed he'd had any)
apparently evaporated.

Yohji's
shirt came off easily enough… in pieces. Farfarello's went the same
way by his own hand, and he was about to make short work of Yohji's
pants as well, when the blond held up a firm hand.

"Now
wait a Tokyo minute. I'm gonna need these tomorrow, y'hear?" No,
he didn't, but Yohji was pretty good with a zipper, and Farfarello
was just patient enough to let him remove his OWN pants. And once he
was free of those restrictions, his cock tenting his boxers happily,
he set to work on Farfarello's. But of course, he knew that he wasn't
going to get another chance to take control of the situation, so he
made a sincere effort to slow the pace.

…That,
of course, earned him a set of sharp nails down his chest, and
Farfarello was on him again, sucking and nipping at Yohji's neck. The
blond fumbled to keep them both squatting long enough to remove the
man's pants, but it was in vain. There was a sharp rip, and he
cringed inwardly, watching as the abused garment was tossed to the
side. It took him a moment to realize, since the body gnawing and
licking at his collarbone was impeding his vision, that Farfarello
had gone commando.

He
supposed it made sense, what with the man being psychotic and all,
but the sight still made his breath catch. Letting out a small growl
of his own, he caught him by the shoulders and forced the berserker
onto his back, pinning him against the carpet with his own body. He
moaned slightly, and heard Farfarello let out a hiss of his own, when
their pelvises made contact. Yohji's member rubbed against the silk
confines of his boxers, and he could feel Farfarello's hard against
the outer fabric. The Irishman snarled and bucked, but Yohji held him
to the spot, groping around until the man's wrists were safely tucked
beneath his palms.

He
silenced one of Farfarello's growls with a kiss, feeling it pass
harmlessly down his own throat. When he broke off after a few
moments, he noticed that the man was, again, much more pacified, and
made a mental note of that. Kisses equaled a calmer Farf.

"Nowstay
for a moment," he murmured, catching Farfarello's eye to make
sure the man understood. Amazingly, when he removed his hands, the
white-haired man complied, squirming only slightly as Yohji stood up
and stared down at the younger man. As he stepped back, his heart
skipped a beat.

Farfarello's
arms remained obediently above him, pulling the skin of his abdomen
tight along his ribs. The massive net of scars that wove their way
around his body, some coming from places that Yohji didn't even want
to know about, were several shades of colors, depending on their age,
and did nothing to detract from the pale beauty of the lithe form
glowing in the semi-darkness. His amber eye burned, reflecting the
small amount of light, like a cat's, and slowly regaining that
cannibalistic look as the seconds passed.

Yohji
had purposely avoided looking at first, because he didn't want to
seem like a total pervert, but his eye slowly drifted down to where
the man's thighs were gently parted in front of him. A soft sigh
escaped his lips when he spotted it, standing proud amid a weave of
curly white hair that appeared unrealistically soft. It wasn't as
long as Yohji's (but then, whose was?), but it was absolutely
perfect. Amazingly, there wasn't a single scar on it, and it twitched
ever so slightly as he stared. He swallowed, and then remembered why
he'd stood up in the first place.

He
turned and padded quickly to the bathroom, looking for anything that
would make the journey easier. His eyes finally drifted across a
bottle of lotion, and just in time, because as he left the bathroom
he could see the Irishman was halfway to his feet.

"What's
that?" the man asked lowly, even though his eye was trained on
Yohji's face, not the bottle.

"Lotion,"
he said evenly, catching Farf across the chest and pushing him back
to sit on the bed.

Farfarello
stared. "I don't like lotion. It smells funny and makes my skin
feel strange."

"It's
not for your skin, per say. And this declares itself to be
unscented," Yohji grinned, unscrewing the top.

"Uhn,"
Farfarello grunted, dismissing it, and pulled Yohji forward by his
boxers so that he could chew softly at the skin around his belly
button. Yohji expected him to remove the restrictive material
immediately, but was surprised when his partner simply reached a hand
up the loose leg, pawing at his buttocks, and then tracing the crack
down between his legs from the back, until his fingers were pressing
demandingly against the loose folds of skin behind his sack. Yohji
gasped at the pressure, feeling slightly off-balance at the angle the
man's hand made him stand in, and Farfarello's eye rolled to look up
at him. Then he felt the other hand ghost up his thigh and disappear
underneath his boxers, and he squeaked when he felt nails gently
raking down his length. He tried to pull back, only to find that the
first hand, the one snaking around from behind, kept him easily in
place, threatening to trip him with even the slightest movement. And
he was acutely conscious that he did not
want to be on his back with this man.

A
pair of nimble, calloused fingers wrapped around his member and
slowly started milking him underneath his boxers. Even as he gasped
and fought the urge to buck, he couldn't manage to pull his gaze away
from the other man's piercing amber eye, which was searching his face
with a sort of patient, amused expression. What Yohji couldn't
understand was how he was just sitting
there, even though the cock he'd seen before had already appeared
fully loaded. Did he enjoy torturing himself like this?

…Well,
yeah. Probably.

As
his mouth moved on Yohji's lower abdomen, the fingers worked
themselves skillfully up and down his length, playing with each
square centimeter as if it were created just for him. They stopped
momentarily at his glans and made little circles around his slit. He
choked on a moan, and this time, as he moved, he really did
fall over, although thankfully not backwards, somehow ending up
half-sitting on the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him, his
arms supporting him on the ground from behind. Farfarello moved with
him, pulling his hands away from the garment, and his eye seemed to
light up as they hit the floor. Yohji had only a split-second to
consider the fact that yes, these were his favorite boxers, before
they were torn from him, and Farfarello's mouth was around his cock.
He jerked, crying out at the suddenness, and clenched at the man's
hair.

"Oh
gods, please… Ah! Stoppit, oh gods! ...Do you want me to
fuck you, or
not?!"
he ground out desperately. Thankfully, Farfarello froze. He stared up
at him for a moment, then pulled off and moved up to straddle the
other man, pressing their cocks together and chewing hungrily on
Yohji's collarbone. Yohji groaned in aroused frustration, pouring as
much lotion on his hand as he could squeeze from the cheap hotel
bottle, and then pushed Farfarello off and hauled him up onto the
bed.

His
partner looked a little put-off as he was tossed onto his back amidst
the feather comforter and sheets, eyeing the soft pillows with
annoyance, but his expression soon changed as Yohji pushed one of his
legs up and roughly pressed a finger past the thick puckering ring of
muscle, deep into his anus. Farfarello arched off the bed, making
fists in the bed spread. Yohji had never done this with a man before,
only seen it on various internet sites that he hadn't been able to
turn his attention from, and he was pleasantly surprised at the way
it felt. Farfarello's muscles contracted around his finger, pulling
him in, and the soft lotion made it easy to slip around inside him.

And
then, there was the control.

If
he moved his finger one way, his partner moved. He curled his finger
into a hook, and Farfarello twisted, crying out in pleasure. And as
he pushed in two fingers, he found it only got better. Without the
sensation of pain to get in the way, Yohji soon had three fingers
curling and stretching at the pink ring of muscle, and was having
absolutely no problems. Farfarello's cock danced hard in front of
him, precum oozing from the tip and dripping down his length. Yohji
removed his fingers, and Farfarello snarled, his eye popping open to
glare daggers at the blond.

But
Yohji had grown used to it by now, and merely grinned, bringing his
hand down to his own need to smear on the rest of the lotion.
Farfarello twisted, trying to get a better view, and only truly
caught on when Yohji set the head of his cock against his opening. At
this, his eye widened, and the red tinge on his cheeks grew a shade
darker. Yohji wondered only briefly if it was a look of embarrassment
or excitement, and then, after curling his fingers around the man's
cherry-tinted cock, pushed his way in.

Farfarello
let out the most blood-curdlingly beautiful cry Yohji had ever heard,
arching high off the bed. Yohji bit his lip so hard he could taste
blood, but a moan still forced its way around his teeth. It felt…
so sinfully wonderful, it practically hurt. After a moment, when his
senses returned, the blond pulled his lover's legs up, so that he had
full access, and started slowly working his way in. It was tight…
oh gods, was it tight… like fucking a virgin girl... and Yohji was
seriously worried that something deep inside was going to rip. Not
that Farfarello seemed to care. He twisted in the covers, moaning and
trying to push the other man deeper. Yohji would've obliged, but the
idea of having blood on his dick really didn't appeal to him that
much. Still, he slowly pushed himself in, feeling the skin stretching
and pulsing around him, the muscles contracting so hard at times, he
thought he might lose his very important appendage.

"L-loosen
up. You have to relax, or -uhn- it's gonna hurt," Yohji said
darkly. Even through the haze of his arousal, Farfarello was still
able to look at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Me!"
Yohji gasped out, "It's gonna hurt me!"

There
was a pause, as if the berserker were weighing whether that mattered
or not, and then Yohji felt the man's entire body go slack. It was as
if a dam had broken, and Yohji easily slid in up to his hilt. The
feeling was overwhelming, and it was all he could do not to shoot his
load right then and there. He could see Farfarello in a similar boat,
as his eye was closed and he was fisting the sheets so hard, he was
practically tearing holes in them. It seemed amazing that at a time
like this, the man was actually practicing restraint, even though
that idea and Farfarello seemed like polar opposites.

Yohji
started moving, and with how relaxed his lover had made himself, it
was easy to draw almost completely out, keeping only his glands
within the inner ring of muscle, and then slide back in. Farfarello
purred appreciatively, moaning low in his throat. Yohji pushed the
younger man's legs so that he was almost folded in half, his pale
knees pressing against his shoulders, and increased the friction,
pushing in hard to get as deep as he could, searching for something…
something…

The
response was instantaneous; Farfarello cried out, bucking into the
air, and Yohji gasped, slamming back into the same spot, and gaining
the same response. Yohji's tan hand pulled at the man's smaller cock,
pumping it with no particular rhythm, and soon, Farfarello was
sweating and panting underneath him, making delicious, cat-like
mewling noises that went straight to the blond's groin.

"Uhn!
Oh gods… Y- yohji," Farfarello panted, and Yohji felt some
small part of himself snap. His name. Farfarello had never said it
before. It dripped from his raspy throat like spiked honey. The pace
increased before he even knew what he was doing, pounding into the
white-haired man with short, fast thrusts, and he knew he couldn't
possibly last much longer.

"Unn!"
he gasped, uttering the mandatory words, "F… Farf! I can't-
Ah! I'm gonna come!"

The
form underneath him muttered something inaudible.

"W…
what?" he panted, feeling his balls tighten threateningly.

"-ei.
Sssay... Jei," dripped that gorgeous mouth, and that was all
Yohji needed. He thrust hard into the form below him, seeing white
behind his closed eyes.

"Oh
gods, Jei!" he practically yelled, and his muscles tightened,
his cock pulsing as his orgasm burst almost painfully from him. He
felt the muscles around his cock spasm, and heard a twin cry from his
lover, feeling the seed spread warm across his fingers. He bucked
against the man a few more times, drawing out the sensation as long
as possible, before it became too much and he was forced to pull out,
muscles shaking with the effort.

After
his vision cleared, he noticed that he was laying on top of
Farfarello, the man's seed still warm between their stomachs. Farf's
eye was closed, and his breathing was slow and even. Yohji wondered
momentarily if he'd fallen asleep. He got up lazily to get a
washcloth, and when he returned, he saw that familiar amber eye
blazing out at him. He wiped them both down without a word spoken,
but when he turned to return the cloth to the bathroom floor, a hand
shot out and attached itself to his wrist, pulling him forcefully
down into the sheets as the berserker straddled his waist.

For
a few mind-numbing seconds, he was terrified that Farfarello wasn't
finished, and that he'd have to start all over again. But as his
partner simply lay down on him happily, running his fingers through
Yohji's blond hair and kissing the sides of his face. Yohji breathed
deeply, taking a moment to recover from the shock, and sighed in
relief. After throwing the washcloth as close to the bathroom door as
he could manage, he forced the berserker to lie down more comfortably
next to him, closing his eyes as the man's fingers gently pulled the
tangles from his hair and explored his face.

It
was strange. As much as he tried to locate the feeling, he honestly
couldn't feel repulsed anymore. Maybe it was just the alcohol, and he
would regret his decision in the morning (if he lived that long), but
for now, he could think of nothing more enjoyable than having this
man, this crazed homicidal sociopath, lying curiously serenely next
to him, stroking his hair.

Sighing
peacefully, Yohji drifted off to sleep.

----

*cough*
Farf OOC much? XD

And
sorry about the ending fluff… I'm a girl, after all, and I just
can't seem to help myself :3

…to
be continued?

~ Jei
Svenka
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The Dance