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All Hallow's Eve	By : libek Category: Digimon > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 8443 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon: Digital Monsters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
DISCLAIMER: See previous parts.

A/N: Well, one lemon's out of the way. (Really more like lime, hmm?) Here's the other. Proper and yaoi and taito this time around. *heartmark*

Issai na Konjou no Ibu

(All Hallows' Eve)

Part Three

by Libek

"What about this one?"

"...You must be joking."

Jyou threw up his hands in frustration. They must have been wandering through the rental store for twenty minutes now, and still Koushirou persisted in making no contribution whatever, other than derisive sniping. "Isn't there anything here that looks interesting?"

The Keeper of Knowledge shrugged his shoulders expressively, and eyed the shelf with considerable disdain. "Is it my fault that modern cinema is a dying art?"

"Fine, then! We'll rent something old! How does a period samurai film sound to you?"

"Melodramatic and time-wasting," Koushirou replied with all honesty, completely oblivious to the fact that his older companion was about three seconds away from having a major breakdown in public.

"This?" Jyou suggested between gritted teeth, offering up another movie. He hadn't even bothered looking at the case of this one, since it hardly seemed to matter whether the selection was something he'd labored over for hours or a spur-of-the-moment
grab.

His redheaded friend gazed at him levelly. "That, Jyou-kun, is pornography."

Dropping the film as though it burned and doing a little burning himself, the Keeper of Faith spun around and gave the shelves what he considered to be a futile thrice-over. But the truth of the matter was that he could hardly see anymore, vision obscured by a suspicious red haze...

"Hmmm..." he heard Koushirou murmur, and the other boy wandered away from him to look in the foreign film section.

Fine, Jyou thought crossly. Do whatever you want.

He honestly didn't expect anything positive at this point. It seemed clear enough that his supposed friend was deliberately being difficult so as to avoid doing anything social whatsoever, and he was awfully close to saying to hell with the whole outing. If Koushirou truly didn't want to crawl out of his rut, then there was nothing he could do about it -- as much as it might have hurt to watch a good friend slowly waste away...

For all these reasons, he was beyond surprised when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find the redheaded computer expert brandishing a copy of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon at him.

"It came out a while ago, I'll admit," Koushirou was saying quietly, "but I never did get to see this one."

*   *   *

Yamato writhed.

Hot. So damn hot. He wasn't used to this, no. But Taichi was looking at him so strangely, and the whole world just seemed to melt, colors running together like hot wax. The candle had been knocked over, and it sweated beads of temporary liquid onto a hardwood floor, the miraculously still-burning wick tilted at a cruel angle, flames lapping at every available surface. Vaguely, Yamato knew he had gone from vertical to horizontal, and his eyes, slowly regaining their focus, found the uneven number of planks that supported Taichi's top bunk. For a few moments, they were his support as well, and he concentrated very hard, slowly forcing his mind out of the pleasant daze.

Someone, logic and familiarity told him it had to be Taichi, was nursing carefully at his jawbone, and he had his head titled so that those warm lips could make their way from the point of his chin to the lobe of his ear, all in a single but agonizingly slow motion. Or maybe things weren't progressing as slowly as he thought, because he knew there was more air on his chest now than there should have been, and Taichi's fingers were tracing his bare midriff, pulling at the skin and rolling it attentively. The other hand...lost somewhere in his pleated skirt, but gradually nudging the material upwards.

He couldn't think beyond the most rudimentary observation, his body felt entirely strange, and Yamato was in the early stages of a panic attack when gently, gently Taichi eased off, drawing their lips together through sheer coercion, and sucking all the moisture out of his mouth. The blond tensed momentarily, forced in the end to jerk his head aside before he could get any air into his lungs. And even as he lay there, panting for breath, he could not seem to escape; a wolf in quicksand, where every frantic movement only causes it to become more truly ensnared. Yamato could feel the other's eyes, glittering lustily, even as he closed his own and ducked his head.

"Taichi," he whispered, and it came out all wrong, sounding like a desperate plea when it was meant to be the beginning of a civilized sentence. He had thought to delay their coupling with conversation, but all this accomplished was another one of those warm, mind-numbing kisses, and now he thought he detected a bit of tongue. Yes, definitely, as it tickled the glands and made him feel only more intensely feverish.

A hand, oh yes, between his legs, tracing one of his thighs and guiding them both a little further apart. Yamato swallowed faintly, and though it sounded loud and wet and nervous in his head, Taichi seemed to experience no hesitations, stroking the length and breadth of his groin. Having gotten through the night relatively free of his hormones, the blond couldn't repress a slight jump as they all seemed to light up at once. Taichi's heated breath, curving and traversing the lines of his ear, was the only thing Yamato could feel or hear for a moment; the only thing that prevented him from passing out completely. It was there, it was real, and he held onto it tightly while the physical world came back to itself, piece by piece.

The first thing he reclaimed was the soft sheets, the mattress beneath him, and the second had to be Taichi's skin, naked and exposed but not at an angle to be admired properly. He knew their shirtless chests were in tight concert, because he could feel the brunet's sweat, dripping sometimes off of one body and onto the other. The scent that rose from it...pure Taichi-kun. Musk, much stronger now than it would be under ordinary circumstances, and...the faint odor of cut grass. Which didn't make any sense, since he hadn't spent much time outdoors today. Unless it was the other way around, and cut grass smelled faintly like Taichi.

Wait... His lover's little kisses were tending downwards, and all of the abandoned flesh seemed so cold, suddenly, oxygen finally able to reach it and brush against it, forceful in the way you only notice when you're half-naked and slick with perspiration. A whimper escaped his tightly pursed lips, and Yamato sat up a little, supporting his upper body on his elbows, bringing himself just a little bit closer to Taichi's wandering face. The brunet looked up at him and smiled slightly, reaching over and flicking at one of his nipples. Brief pain, and then a faint tingle which grew stronger as Taichi tugged and pinched the nub attentively for a moment. With part of his attention, though, Yamato was aware of the boy's other hand, rubbing a patch of his inner thigh, and the boy's hips, slowly but insistently spreading him wide.

Disorientation when his lover started the kisses again, small and soft and wet on his ribs; Yamato knew, in a barely conscious sort of way, that the hand with its fingers pulling on his underwear was going too low, getting too close to his tailbone, but everything was hazy. Something tickled and then it itched and then it burned and he jerked upright all at once, falling backwards almost as quickly when Taichi's weight
prevented his rising. Into his trembling skin, the brunet whispered comforting things --
nonsense, most of it, but the tone of voice was reassuring. Easy for him to say it was all right, Yamato thought with anger; he couldn't feel the sudden stabbing pain in his rectum.

"I'm sorry," Taichi murmured, changing tactics now. "But I don't have any lubricant on hand, and dammit --" He cut himself off before that particular mistake could be made, mouth screwing up in thought. "You should be okay...I'm going in slowly, Yama. Slowly. If you don't think about it..."

Clenched teeth and spilt tears notwithstanding, the blond nodded his assent. It hurt to do much more than that, hell, it hurt to breathe, but he could get through this. The overwhelming fog which had settled in his mind so completely actually wanted what was happening to continue, and he had a feeling that the easiest way to escape from its dizzying confines was by pressing forward determinedly. So he remained, almost entirely motionless, waiting as the unfamiliar sensation worsened. It was just a tiny object pressing on his entrance at first, but abruptly the finger burrowed its way inside, and all the flesh it rubbed against stung awfully.

Yamato was breathing in shallow gasps, frequency increasing exponentially for every centimeter the penetration took. Pain, pain, pain, pain -- all that he experienced. No, not quite true; he was hurt, and he was violated, and with the length of that finger rasping his insides, he was even forced to feel an acute
domination. Because that's what it was; he lay on his back and he couldn't move for fear of increasing his own discomfort, a veritable prisoner. He didn't like it, it made him totter off-balance...and yet, at the realization of his own position, Yamato felt a sudden rush of warmth and an unmistakable shivering -- both concentrated in his groin, under the dark-haired boy's firm palm. Of course, an answering flush caught his cheeks, but he hoped it might not be too obvious under the circumstances.

As though able to hear this train of thought, Taichi emitted a low, reverberating chuckle. Instantly, the slender blond berated himself for ever harboring such a foolish idea. In this one area, Yamato would readily acknowledge his lover's superiority; if they were both virgins, one of them had undergone a bout of divine enlightenment, and he knew it wasn't him. When the other boy lifted his head momentarily and awarded him a slow, appraising once-over, Yamato felt suddenly nervous. When Taichi added a cocky smirk, the blond sucked his lower lip into his mouth and set to chewing on it fitfully.

Brown eyes had that look again, and the finger inside poked about experimentally. Yamato was forced to gasp sharply, the pain intensifying. Lest concern grow too strong and his lover be persuaded to withdraw, however, both the sound and the sensation were immediately followed by indications of pleasure; a sudden hunger in his nether regions which insisted that it needed only something larger, something deeper, and the softest fluttering moan. He shook his head in half-desperation, and Taichi leaned up to press a kiss on him.

He felt the nail scraping his sensitive inner channel, the whole digit bending at its knuckles and stretching him. More than he wanted to be stretched, he told himself, thinking to complain, but that same hunger was eased a little. Unlike the pain, this discomfort couldn't be winced away, so he only bit his lip unhappily, waiting. The hand which had rested on his pectoral, almost forgotten, set about to pinching again, and Yamato groaned, unable to decide whether he liked the way that felt or not -- exactly his conflict with the penetration.

Only that was slowly receding, the finger pulling out. Startled, the blond opened his mouth to protest, and was cut off. Having reached the second knuckle, Taichi ceased his withdrawal and shoved another finger in beside the first, so that Yamato cried out sharply, turning his head into the pillow and quaking. His dark-haired lover remained motionless for an instant, observing the erratic rise and fall of the other boy's chest, and the way it all stopped when he spread his fingers ever so slightly, the way Yamato clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly to keep the tears at bay.

The blond whimpered through his teeth. God, oh goddess, Kami-sama, help me. Don't let me break, he thought desperately, because it felt like he was about to. Any second now, he would completely lose control and start screaming hysterically, which wouldn't have been such a bad idea if only there weren't so many people around to hear it. Yamato couldn't even tell what his body felt because the nerves were too upset at its intensity. But then that smothering heat rolled into his mind again, and he felt comforted, safe within Taichi's arms and the strange warmth they had created.

Burning from the inside, his head lolled back and his eyes opened slowly, like a those of a doll dropped on the floor. He wanted it to stop and wanted it to never end, the careful stabbing penetration that was working its way through his body, and again he bit his lower lip, seeing nothing but shadows that played across the wall. Some were from the window, spidery branches against the moon, but he knew that others came together to form the bed that he was sprawled upon and the boy who sprawled upon him. Taichi had told him not to think about it, and that seemed so hard at first, but now...just listening to the wind and the soft noises which were coming from him or from Taichi, he couldn't be sure which...drifting off was easy and he allowed it. For a time he couldn't measure, minutes, seconds, hours, Yamato knew nothing.

And then words. He would have ignored them, but the voice...the voice was Taichi's, and the words were important if they came from him. Something about...readiness...and pain...and he closed his eyes in concentration, feeling suddenly that odd burn again, hunger again, and the smallest trace of apprehension...then emptiness. Yamato sat up with a start, failing once more to shift Taichi's mass. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he knew he didn't like this, the emptiness. It made him
feel alone, and he'd never wanted to be alone, no matter how many times he'd gone off on his own...

Whimpering, and it was most definitely coming from him. Ashamed, Yamato tried to stop the sound but couldn't, couldn't seem to form any coherent sentences in his urgency. Please don't leave me alone. I know what I said, but follow me, please, I don't want to be alone.

Taichi's brown eyes widened, and he seemed startled, so at least some part of that must have gotten through. Then he smiled slightly and the rough pad of his thumb stroked Yamato's cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Yama. It's all right. But I can't
do anything more like this."

Yamato nodded as though he understood when he didn't, and relaxed somewhat. He trusted Taichi, really he did; if the experience in the Digital World had changed him in no other respect, it had changed him there. So he let his eyes slip shut once more and evened out his breathing, bracing himself instinctively but knowing that he was in the best of hands.

Inevitable pain. The thing which intruded on his nether regions now was much larger than a finger, and his body wasted no time in pointing this out. But Taichi hissed very softly and then began to pant, the look in his eyes so much unguarded pleasure that the blond couldn't protest; couldn't even think of it. Taichi had done so much for him already and gotten nothing in return, so...turnabout was only fair play.

"Are you okay?" the brunet whispered gruffly, sounding as though it was very hard for him to concentrate.

How do you like it? Yamato wanted to ask irrationally. How do you like feeling as though your brain is leaking out your ears? Instead, because he had the feeling that this question would disturb his lover more than necessary, he nodded, smiling, offering a chaste kiss to Taichi's left-hand cheek. "And you?"

"Oh, uh..." Again, he sounded distracted. Confused, almost. "Just fine. Better'n...better'n fine, really..." Then he looked at Yamato, in such a way that made the blond want to shield himself somehow -- pull up the blankets or even just cross his arms over his chest.

Naked lust, he thought absently, and for the first time understood what the expression meant. Taichi's fingers tangled themselves in his hair, and he smiled fondly, even though he was trembling occasionally, the way a person trembles when they're exhausted or are trying to carry something far too heavy. He looked the brunet over curiously, trying to find what might have caused this odd quivering, and finally it came to him -- his lover was straining against his own sexual impulses. Buried deep inside, and trying not to move for some reason. Yamato cocked his head to one side and tried to meet Taichi's eyes soothingly.

"It's all right," he whispered, dusting his fingertips down the other's cheek, tracing the faint outline of lipstick. "Go ahead. I'll be okay."

Relief flooded those brown eyes like tears and Taichi leaned forward to kiss him one more time. "Thanks," he returned, just as softly, before pulling out and thrusting back in.

Yamato shuddered all over, and found his arms winding their way about the brunet's shoulders, drawing him close. It didn't hurt anymore.

Clouds crept across the moon, and Taichi's room turned black, but they had no need for vision at this stage, where one body pounded relentlessly into the other and beads of sweat picked up like rain. Neither seemed to mind; indeed, the slicker surfaces made for an easier ride. The window had been left ajar but they could hardly feel the breeze, even as a cold night turned rapidly to rain. Rain which steadily ruined the surface of Taichi's oaken desk, but at the same time provided such a lovely mural of frozen silver images that he would eventually forgive it.

They came in gasping counterpoint, the brunet following the blond after more than a minute's delay. Then they kissed, without the frenzy, without the urgency -- nothing left in either but affection and sleepiness.

*   *   *

"Take-chan?"

"What is it, Daisuke-kun?"

The mahogany-haired boy frowned slightly in the darkness. After a fierce match of rock-paper-scissors, he was sleeping on the floor with a spare futon, and Takeru had gotten the bed. He got the feeling that they were both staring up at the ceiling they couldn't see restlessly. "Do you think Hikari-chan meant what she said?"

There was a frustrated gusting noise from Takeru's general vicinity, and then, "I don't know. Probably."

Daisuke remained silent for a moment. "Good," he said at last.

"What?!" Takeru demanded, sounding taken aback.

The other boy blinked, uncertain. "Well, isn't it?"

"Uh...uh..." the blond stammered, "...I guess. Are you feeling okay? I mean,
I just never expected you to take rejection so well."

"What are you talking about?"

Takeru blinked. "What are you talking about?" he countered.

"What Hikari-chan said."

Again, the Keeper of Hope was astounded. "But...she said she didn't love you, right? And that she never would?"

"Not that," Daisuke clarified, and his voice suddenly became very small, as though he was trying to avoid being overheard. "You know...about being okay
with...us."

"There isn't an us."

"I know that."

"Well, then, yes. She meant it."

A pause. "Good," Daisuke repeated.

Thoroughly confused, Takeru turned over and resolved to sleep this one off. "Goodnight, Dai-kun."

" 'Night, Take-chan," the Bearer of Courage and Friendship returned, and rolled over in the opposite direction, this time settling his eyes on the far wall, though it was no more visible than the ceiling. Lightning flashed behind the drawn shades, and for that split second, Daisuke thought he saw Takeru's shadow, sitting up in bed and turned towards him. Hasty rustling, and when the light came again, he was lying down like he should have been, but the mahogany-haired boy smiled to himself.

"There isn't an us, Take-chan," he whispered sleepily. "But there could be. There could be."

*   *   *

"What do you suppose the others are doing right now?" Miyako asked in a desperate attempt to make conversation with her somewhat anti-social charge. The storm was raging outside in full now, preventing her from stalking out of the apartment in frustration, as she had neglected to bring her rain slicker.

Iori shrugged, not taking his eyes from the television screen. He was playing Silent Hill 5 and seemed to have gotten quite into the game. "I'm sure it's nothing interesting."

Not particularly satisfied with this answer, the Bearer of Love and Purity returned to her book. "I wish you'd turn that da...rn game off. It's creeping me out."

"You don't have to edit your speech around me," the young boy informed her tersely. "And, in case you care, I love this game."

"Figures."

Iori pressed pause, and turned his head around as much as he could without moving his body. "Well, it seems appropriate, as we are severely lacking in the usual Halloween paranormal activity."

Miyako, not at all liking the cold expression on his face, buried her nose in her book and worried her way a little deeper into the couch. "Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like that! You're doing it on purpose!"

"Frighten you? Deliberately? Why would I want to do something like that?"

"Why did it have to be Iori?" Miyako asked herself disgustedly. "Why couldn't I be spending the evening with Ken-kun?"

"He's the Digimon Kaizer."

"Was, only was!"

"And I don't think he'd be interested in you anyway."

"Don't you have anything better to do than pick apart my fantasies?!"

"Well," the Bearer of Knowledge and Faith mused, "I was playing a video game..."

"Fine! Be creepy! See if I care! I'm going into the kitchen to make dinner."

"Aw, shit, not this again," Iori muttered, resuming his game.

"What was that?!"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

A/N: It seems I've found yet another opportunity to promo Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Silent Hill. If you've ever played Silent Hill, then you know why it was bothering Miyako. To the one person who said they had and still didn't understand, you frighten me.

Yamato Is a Girl's Name: Well, not really, but it is a universal or asexual name. We don't have all that many in Western cultures, so this may be a
hard concept to get across, but there is really NO assumption on gender involved in the name Yamato. (Unlike Chris or Lesley or Max, all of which CAN be used for a man or a woman but all of which DO involve some initial gender association.) Therefore, it is unnecessary for Yamato to alter his name into Yamako.

(If you need more convincing on the Yamato bit, watch a raw -- unsubtitled straight Japanese -- episode of Pok�mon. "Cassidy", of Neo Team Rocket, was originally named Yamato herself. Actually, there are quite a few names that Digimon Adventure and Pok�mon have in common...but that's a lecture for another time.)

At any rate, the reason why Mimi's parents don't get all terribly suspicious is because they moved to America shortly after the first series and never really got all that chummy with the other Chosen Children. There were no formal introductions between their parents, at least not that I saw, and it isn't as if Mimi and Yamato even knew each other before the Digital World. He changed his last name to cover his tracks just in case, and Tanaka is such a common surname in Japan that he might as well have called himself John Smith. To add to the deception, Mimi switches from her habitual title of 'Yamato-san' to 'Yamato-chan', which, as I've mentioned before, is a common way for young girls to refer to each other.

HOWEVER, the fact that it is appropriate for Mimi to refer to one of her female friends with '-chan' does not mean that it would be appropriate for her mother to do the same. The suffix '-kun' is more distanced, so it is more seemly, and Mrs. Tachikawa uses Yamato's first name because 'she' is so much younger than her. I'm basing this off of Genma's suffix for Akane [Ranma 1/2] -- 'Akane-kun' -- because I really can't imagine even Mimi's mother being any more familiar with a young girl she's only just met than a rude man like Genma is with one he's known for several years.

Oh, and all of you who deduced that Taichi was dressed as Satoshi from Pok�mon...go ahead and give yourselves a big pat on the back. ^_~

TRANSLATIONS


oniichan : Older brother.

The End
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All Hallow's Eve