Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ The Walls Between ❯ Spiral Dances ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Daisuke shut the door quietly. The apartment was dark, far darker than the sky outside which was slowly edging its way toward morning; he presumed Miyako to be asleep, and wasn't anxious to wake her. Fumbling a little with his keys, he took off his shoes and stumbled his way into his home.

Compared with Ken's spacious, brightly-furnished apartment, Daisuke's was a hole in the wall, dark and dank and squalid. Neither Daisuke nor Miyako was a huge fan of cleaning, with the result that there were usually items of clothing or dirty dishes scattered around the place. Although Miyako made sure that none of the clutter hung around long enough to become fetid, there was still a faint odor of human occupation in the air that never went completely away, and which the heat of summer only exacerbated.

Having never minded this before, Daisuke was unsure if he was noticing it now only out of contrast. He wasn't annoyed by the faint scent, but it made him uneasy for a reason he couldn't immediately identify.

"There you are," came Miyako's voice. The bedroom light flicked on, catching Daisuke squarely in it's glare. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Out," he said, frowning at her where she stood in the doorway. "And I'm tired and I'd like to get some sleep before I have to go to work. If you don't mind."

"I do mind. You've been gone all night! I was worried sick, I thought maybe you'd been murdered or fallen into a bottomless pit!"

"I'm fine! Look, you can see that I'm fine, now will you leave me alone?"

"That's not the point! You could at least have called!"

Wondering if it might not have been better to stay over at Ken's until morning, Daisuke said heatedly, "You're not my mother! You're not even my wife! I don't have to answer to you, or get your permission to stay out all night!"

Miyako stared at him in silent shock for perhaps thirty seconds; when she spoke, her tone was low. "Do you think that I don't care about you, just because I'm not married to you?" Daisuke started to deny this, but she interrupted him. "No, really. Is that what you think? Do you think that you're just some guy to me? Some guy who lives in the same apartment, eats the same food, shares my life, but that I could care less if you live or die? Is that what you think?"

"Can we not have this conversation right now?" said Daisuke. "I have to work tomorrow, and I know you have to work tomorrow. We can argue about this tomorrow night or something, when I'm not so fucking tired."

She stared at him again for a few seconds; then her face twisted in fury and she slammed the bedroom door shut. This was not the reaction Daisuke had expected to what was, to him, a perfectly logical request. For a moment, he was angry at her for being irrational and wanting to have an argument in the middle of he night. Then a faint sound reached him ... the sound of Miyako sobbing behind the closed door.

"What's gotten into me today?" wondered Daisuke, disgusted with himself. First Ken, now Miyako. He seemed to have developed a talent for saying all the wrong things and making people cry. Sliding open the bedroom door, he went inside and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside Miyako, who was sprawled out face-down and weeping into the pillow.

"Hey," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired, that's all. I think this heat is getting to me or something. It's not that I think you don't care, okay? I just don't think I should have to clear my itinerary with you."

"I'm not asking you to clear things with me!" sobbed Miyako. "I just worry about you! You were gone all night, you could have been killed or something, and I'd never know! Is it too much to ask you to just call me and let me know you're all right if you're going to be out all fucking night?"

Rubbing her back with one hand, Daisuke said, "I'll call next time. Will you forgive me then?"

Miyako sniffled, calming down considerably with Daisuke's easy surrender. "Maybe."

He kissed the back of her neck. "Come on, it's okay. I'm fine. I should have called, but I'm perfectly fine so it's all right."

"No, it isn't. You never think about me anymore. Three years ago you would have called!"

"And I'll call next time. I agree, I was inconsiderate. I won't do that again, okay? Come on, roll over, stop kissing that pillow."

She eventually did, snuggling against his chest after he turned off the lights and got undressed; it was a good thing the room was so dark with the lights off, because Daisuke had discovered a fresh mark on his neck while getting dressed at Ken's. He'd told Ken to be more careful in the future, but that didn't help him at the moment.

Apparently, Miyako was too emotionally worn-out to want to have sex with Daisuke, which was also a good thing. Daisuke was sort of worn-out himself at the moment. Besides which, as he held Miyako in his arms and drifted toward sleep, it was Ken who ran through his mind. Even having Miyako mostly naked and pressed up against him failed to turn him on. Miyako was normal, accepted; Daisuke could marry her if he wanted to, and nobody would have anything to say about it. He could kiss her on the street, and the only looks he would get would be the ones directed at any public display of affection. Although he'd been screwing her regularly for years now, he realized now that he'd done it for the same reason he masturbated if he lacked an accessible sex partner. He liked the feelings, and needed release. He didn't find his hand particularly sexy, and neither did he find Miyako very sexy.

She was there. She was available. She wasn't like Ken, who had been Daisuke's first, seducing him effortlessly at the age of fourteen during one of their innumerable sleepovers. Daisuke, half-asleep as the memory surfaced, held Miyako closer and mmm'ed into her hair. It was no longer important to him, what had led up to the encounter. He merely remembered the feeling of Ken's lips and tongue on his cock in the warm darkness of Ken's bedroom, the fear of discovery, the thrill of doing something he knew to be forbidden adding to the pleasure of exploring sex for the first time. His exotic, dark-haired genius friend had brought him to orgasm and then asked him how he'd liked it, and Daisuke had been unable to answer with aught but a trembling nod.

Sleep caught him in the midst of this memory, and Daisuke dreamed with a slight smile on his face.

Daisuke managed to avoid seeing Ken for a little over two more days, but then Friday came around. He had Friday off from work this week, which was unusual for him, and he loitered around the apartment alone all morning. To avoid thinking, he cleaned up first the kitchen, and then the bathroom and toilet. The work not only took his mind off things, but allowed him to tell himself that he was doing something for Miyako. He was starting to feel very guilty about Miyako.

Once he had done all the cleaning that could usefully be done, he went out onto the balcony and meddled around with his tree. The one branch with the dry needles was in visible trouble now, and that kept him occupied with annoyance for a good hour or more. Eventually, though, even the distraction value of the pitiful little tree ran out, and Daisuke was forced back into thought.

Finally, about half an hour before Miyako was scheduled to get home, he gave up. Scribbling a note to her to let her know that he would be out for a few hours, Daisuke grabbed his keys and walked out of the apartment.

He had to see Ken.

"Yes?" asked the speaker next to the door of Ken's apartment building.

"It's Daisuke. Let me in."

Ken didn't reply, but the door clicked as it unlocked, and Daisuke let himself inside.

As the elevator took him up to the proper floor, Daisuke asked himself why he was over here yet again. He wasn't in love with Ken. He was horny, to be sure, since he hadn't slept with Miyako since Yamato's album party, but that was no reason to visit Ken. If sex was all he wanted, he could get it from Miyako, and without having to cross Tokyo to do it. Nervousness gripped him, and he jiggled one leg until the elevator doors opened.

Ken opened the door immediately, and gave Daisuke the most brilliant smile that Daisuke had seen in a long time. "Come in."

"I'm not here to sleep with you again," said Daisuke, as he kicked off his shoes. In spite of this proclamation, his nervousness did not abate.

"Okay," said Ken readily. His tone was surprised, and there was a slight pause before he said, "I hope I didn't give you the impression that you had to."

"You didn't, I'm just getting that out of the way. So you don't get any kind of false ideas."

"That's fine. Do you want some tea? I just got home and I was about to put the water on." Ken moved into the apartment, and Daisuke followed, looking around as if for the first time. Despite the faint anxiety fraying his nerves, he felt comfortable here. Welcomed. It was a ridiculous feeling.

"Sure," he said, and Ken glided like a serpent into the kitchen.

Daisuke settled himself on the couch while Ken moved about, wondering what this nervous feeling was all about. He wasn't in any danger of falling for Ken again. He had already established this fact firmly in his own mind, and he would cling to it until he died. He wasn't somehow stuck on Ken, and he was sure that he could stop seeing Ken whenever he liked. That was what had gotten him into trouble last time ... being so dependent upon Ken to define him, and define his life. But that wouldn't happen this time around.

For some reason, this understanding failed to make the butterflies go away.

"The water's heating," said Ken, as he padded out into the front room. "Was there some specific reason that you came over, or did you just want to visit?"

Under no circumstances did Daisuke want to admit that he had come over just to see Ken. That might be misconstrued. So it was with some sublimated horror that he heard himself say, after a moment of trying to think of a plausible excuse, "I don't know. Just to see you I guess."

Ken smiled a little. Daisuke stood up and stalked over to the window, glaring out at Ken's beautiful view and wondering what made him so stupid at times. The houses down the street looked like tiny woodcut drawings, only in color. It was surreal. He heard Ken walk up and pause behind him, but the taller man did not touch him; Daisuke was both relieved and disappointed.

"You want to talk about this, don't you?"

"Mmmph," said Daisuke, annoyance rising. "Yeah, I guess I do. I guess I want you to give me one valid reason, just one reason, why I should forgive you for fucking me up." He turned around. Ken was gazing at him sadly, as if his heart were breaking just to look on Daisuke, and Daisuke's anger faded somewhat again. This was turning into a pattern, being unable to hold onto his fury when actually confronting Ken, and it disturbed Daisuke a lot for reasons he couldn't readily name. "I never wanted to hold a grudge against you, Ken-chan. But you didn't leave me with a lot of choice."

"Come sit down," said Ken. Daisuke did, although he was also seriously considering a rapid retreat. He'd embarrassed himself enough for one day, admitted too much. Perching on the edge of Ken's white couch, Daisuke stared across the room and folded his arms, waiting for some defense from Ken.

Daisuke expected words; what he got was Ken's hand, tentatively closing on his shoulder. "You're so tense," said Ken.

"Don't touch me," said Daisuke, pulling away a little. He liked Ken's touch far too much, and he wanted to hear what Ken had to say before they ended up having sex. No, wait ... they weren't going to have sex at all! Right.

"I just want you to relax a little," said Ken. "I can't talk to your back if you're going to go all stiff on me." Daisuke felt Ken sit down on the couch as well and run both hands over his shoulders; he was about to pull away again when Ken paused, and Daisuke heard something boiling in the kitchen. "There's the water. I'll be right back."

Daisuke rubbed a hand over his face while Ken was in the kitchen. Why did it seem impossible to have a simple conversation with Ken? He could hear Ken clinking around in the kitchen, removing the water from the stove, pouring, mixing the tea in, and straining the tea out again after it steeped for a few seconds. Daisuke knew him so well, he could visualize every motion the other man made. It was maddening.

After a few minutes, Ken came back with two teacups and handed one to Daisuke. "Here. Do you know when it was that I first knew that I loved you?"

Daisuke shook his head a little and took a sip of tea. "I'm still working on developing those amazing psychic powers, but I don't quite have them yet."

"I know," said Ken, unruffled by Daisuke's bitter sarcasm. "I would have thought that I had told you before, but I was thinking about it and I couldn't remember ever mentioning it."

"You didn't, unless it was while I was asleep."

"Or watching politics."

Daisuke grunted a little in annoyance while Ken set down his teacup. "Here," said Ken. "Turn around, you're tensing up again."

"I'm not that bad about it," said Daisuke, but he twisted to present his back to Ken, obeying without thinking.

"You were at one point, but that's all right. We all have our obsessions, and that was unfair of me. I apologize." He placed his hands delicately on Daisuke's shoulders and began to very gently test the muscles.

"There's a first."

"I am sorry Daisuke. I really am. I wish I could make you see that."

"Well, here's your chance. Make me a believer."

"Mmm," said Ken. "All right. Do you remember that winter break when Jun came back home from college and she brought her friend with her?" While he spoke, Ken carefully kneaded Daisuke's shoulders, beginning shallow and moving gradually deeper. Daisuke sipped his tea and thought.

"Which time? Was it the tall ugly friend or the short chubby cute friend?"

"The short one."

"You mean when we were seventeen? You mean I'd been fucking you for three years before you fell in love with me?" Daisuke was outraged, and felt perfectly justified in it.

"Give me a chance," said Ken, smoothing out Daisuke's muscles with his fingertips. In spite of the fresh irritation of this revelation, Daisuke was relaxing under Ken's ministrations, and he didn't like that. "I was very fond of you, Dai-chan, so don't think I wasn't. The first time I saw you ... mmm. You'd just found the Digimental of Courage, you and Taichi and Hikari and Takeru. I watched you pick it up and see Veemon for the first time."

"Really?" Daisuke hadn't known this, although it didn't surprise him, exactly. He'd known before that Ken had been very possessive about "his" digital world back then, and had watched virtually everything. Then something occurred to him and he frowned. "I don't remember a tower being in that cave, how did you see that?"

"I had my methods," said Ken mysteriously. "But that's not important. I liked you as soon as I saw you, and I was excited. I finally had someone to play against me. The Digimon never put up much of a fight, you know, and by that point I figured that I'd basically won the game and the challenge was over. But now I had a real live opponent. I thought about you all night. I couldn't sleep at all. I thought about you for days, and every day when I crossed the gate I would check and see if you were there, or had been there."

"Mmm," said Daisuke, leaning forward a little and draping himself over the arm of the chair. "That feels so good."

Ken shifted and began to work his way down Daisuke's back from his shoulders. "I hated you for a little while of course. It was that damned Seed, but it could only make me hate you. It couldn't make me stop thinking about you."

"Let's not talk about the Seed, okay? I'm happy being in denial about it." Daisuke crossed his arms and rested his chin on his wrists.

"All right," said Ken, sounding amused. "You'd think I would have figured things out before I did. I wanted to be near you. I wanted to spend all my time with you. I loved to watch you doing things and I loved the sound of your voice. One day, Mama asked me if I was gay, and I thought it was funny at first, but once the idea was out it wouldn't go away."

"When do we get to the falling in love part?"

"My point is that I think I always loved you. I just didn't know it until that one winter. So don't think I was having sex with you for years without any emotional investment. I didn't realize it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. Okay?"

"Fine, fine," said Daisuke. "A little lower?"

Ken's hands moved a bit lower, into the small of Daisuke's back, right where the tension usually built up the worst. Daisuke bit down on a little moan as those skillful fingers patiently loosened the strain. He hadn't realized how strung out he was until Ken gently guided him to relax.

"Anyway, I don't know how much of that you remember."

"I've tried to repress it," murmured Daisuke into his forearm, frowning. He found his memory to be rather dim when he tried to drag out the details. There was Jun, Jun's friend whose name had completely escaped him, and a lot of emotion that clouded the memory.

"I remember you coming over to my place, though. You were late, and I was starting to worry about you. It was snowing and you had snow in your hair and all over your jacket, and some of it had melted. You looked so cold and miserable, and so sexy." Ken's voice went a little softer, and Daisuke could hear a smile in the tone when he said, "You were such a beautiful teenager when you were scrawny and gangly."

"Yeah, whatever." Daisuke wasn't sure how to take this sort of compliment. Did Ken think he wasn't attractive now that he wasn't a scrawny, gangly teenager anymore? The idea was disquieting.

"I couldn't wait to get you alone, but once I did you almost broke down because of something Jun and her friend had said to you. It really surprised me."

"Wait. Wait, I remember this now." Daisuke hiked himself up until Ken backed off a little, and then twisted around so that he was facing his once-lover. He teased the incident out of his memory with care, speaking each bit as it came to him, to fix it into reality. "It was snowing? Yeah, I got off the train at the wrong stop because I was so upset and I ended up walking for almost an hour. That's why I was late."

"What did they say?" asked Ken. He settled himself, half-kneeling, comfortably slung across Daisuke's legs.

"I didn't tell you at the time?"

"If you did, I don't remember it."

Daisuke shifted a little and looked up at the ceiling. "I was combing my hair and about to leave and Jun's cute little friend asked me where I was going. So I told her, and then Jun said something about how I spent all my time at your place and how we were probably screwing each other."

"What? Really?" Ken's dark eyes widened a little. "So she found out about us?"

"Hell no. She was just being stupid. But then they both started to make gay boy jokes. I was so mad at them."

Daisuke went silent, frowning and remembering the confusion and anger that had filled him that long-ago day. After a moment, Ken said suddenly, "How many gays does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"What? Hmm ... two. One to change the light bulb, the other to compliment the drapes."

"Wrong," said Ken.

"What then?"

"None. Gays screw in bath tubs, not light bulbs."

"Very funny."

Ken nudged him. "You can't take things like that seriously, Daisuke. You'll go nuts if you do."

"Yeah, I know. And I don't anymore, but I was just a kid then. It hurt to hear her and her friend cracking these jokes, and I was thinking, 'This is what she'd think about me if she knew.' Me and Jun, we got along. We looked out for each other."

"I know."

"But I figured then, if she found out about me, I wouldn't be her little brother anymore. I'd be her embarrassment of a gay little brother, and she'd laugh about me with her friends behind my back."

"I'm sorry," said Ken.

Daisuke shrugged a little. "Nothing you could have done, and it was a long time ago. Go on, you were telling a story."

"Right. Anyway, I remember you fell over on the bed as soon as you set your stuff down, trying so hard not to cry. So there you were, gorgeous and damp and on my bed, and there was no way in hell we were going to end up having sex because you were so upset. But I realized that I didn't care if we had sex or not. I just wanted you to be happy, I hated seeing you like that because I cared about you, not because I wanted to fuck you."

"So nice to know," said Daisuke dryly.

"I mean it." Ken raised a hand and ran it through Daisuke's hair, a gentle petting motion. "I realized then that I was in love with you. I wanted to protect you from everything. I didn't know what your sister and her friend said to you, and I didn't care. I just wanted to make it all better. All of a sudden, sex didn't matter anymore, if I could just see you smile."

"Hmm," said Daisuke, unsure what to think about this. He'd never doubted that Ken had some sort of possessive feelings about him, so he wasn't sure how this was supposed to convince him to forgive. What he primarily knew was that he wanted more backrub, so he rolled over onto his belly again in tacit request.

"Why don't you get down on the floor and take off your shirt?" said Ken.

"You're not going to seduce me if I do, are you?"

"I will if you want me to." Daisuke felt Ken brush a kiss across the back of his neck, and he shivered.

"Well, I don't want you to," he said.

"Then I won't," said Ken simply.

So Daisuke disengaged himself and stood up. While he took off his shirt, Ken walked out of the room, and when he came back he was carrying a towel. The towel went down on the floor, and Daisuke went down on the towel at Ken's instruction. Then Ken walked off again, and Daisuke frowned a little.

"What are you doing?" he called.

"Just trust me," Ken called back.

"Ken, I don't trust you." Daisuke buried his face in his forearms, though, to hide the grin that he couldn't quite suppress. Ken's presence was disarming, and put Daisuke at a dangerous sort of ease. Still, he told himself that he wasn't falling for Ken again. That was absolutely impossible. He knew the dangers this time, he was on guard against them, and it wasn't going to happen. It was okay to be around Ken and maybe even fuck Ken as long as he didn't let himself get dragged in emotionally.

The thought of fucking Ken, though, gave Daisuke a guilty twinge, and that suppressed his amusement quite well.

"Here," said Ken, turning on a table lamp and setting something down in a bowl next to Daisuke on the floor. Daisuke turned his head to frown at it.

"What is that?" He tipped the bowl a little and water splashed out over his fingers, hot but not scalding hot. "Oops, sorry."

"It's fine," said Ken, blotting the water up with a corner of the towel. He settled himself then, straddling the backs of Daisuke's thighs while he pulled something out of the hot water and flicked it dry. "It's just oil. It's good for your skin."

"Shit," said Daisuke, who hadn't known that Ken was going to end up going to a lot of trouble for him. "You don't have to ... ooh." A little warm oil dripped over his back, and then Ken's hands slipped through it, running over his skin with a silky feel and a faint scent like peaches. "Nevermind," murmured Daisuke, perfectly content to let Ken continue.

"Anyway," said Ken, "that's when I knew that I loved you. I knew that it didn't matter to me what happened, as long as I could be near you and hear you laugh. I would have been perfectly happy to never touch you again if I could have that much. I wanted that forever."

"Mmm," said Daisuke, both because he didn't really have a comment to make but wanted Ken to know he was listening, and because Ken had just dribbled a little more oil on his back and was smoothing it in.

"I just went a little overboard, that's all." Ken's tone dropped somewhat, becoming quiet and thoughtful. "I didn't want to see you hurt, so I tried to protect you from everything. I wanted you near me, and I wanted you safe."

"Yeah, it's all about what you want, isn't it?"

"I realized that. One day I just sort of opened my eyes, and I noticed that you weren't smiling anymore and you weren't happy anymore. I had gotten what I thought I wanted, but in the process I'd killed something precious in you. Do you remember how I didn't come home until very late right there in the last few weeks?"

"Yeah," said Daisuke. He'd stayed up until all hours of the morning, waiting for Ken and almost crying from worry and fear, until he fell asleep from exhaustion. It disgusted him to bring it to mind, but at the time he'd be so afraid of losing Ken, so fearful that Ken was going to leave him.

"I was trying to work up the nerve to leave you," said Ken softly. "I went out drinking with a couple of the guys from the company until I was drunk enough that I felt I could do it. Then I would come home and stand outside the door for, oh, probably hours trying to force myself to walk in and leave you."

"Ken-chan," whispered Daisuke, turning his face down into his forearms. "Don't. I don't want to hear this. I went through this once and it almost killed me, just let it die." A thrill of terror went through Daisuke, because it was so easy, far too easy, to remember how dependent upon Ken he'd been, and how Ken walking out on him had seemed like the end of the world and the end of his life.

Ken's hands moved up the sides of Daisuke's neck, moist with oil and rubbing gently. "I just want you to understand why I did it. I left you because I loved you, and I was destroying you." Ken leaned down and said softly, "Please forgive me, Daisuke. I had to leave. I had to." He stroked his hands down Daisuke's sides, and then back up; the motion was different from before, more possessive, more exploratory.

"I needed you. I needed you, and you left me." Daisuke tried to put as much energy as he could into this statement, make it as accusatory as possible. He didn't want to sympathize, he wanted to seethe. He didn't want to forgive Ken. Forgiveness was the first step toward loving him again, and Daisuke didn't want to love Ken again. The necessary rage escaped him, though. He was too comfortable, too relaxed, and all the tension had been rubbed out of him.

"I needed you too," murmured Ken. "I hate myself so much, sometimes. I'm so destructive, even when I'm trying to be protective."

"Don't say that."

"Why not, it's true."

"I don't want you to hate yourself, Ken. I never hated you, and if anyone had a right to, it was me." Daisuke twisted around until he was laying on his back, sticking to the towel because of the oil on his skin and looking up at Ken. Ken looked down at him with daring hope for just an instant before glancing away to do something with the vial of oil again. Then he ran glistening hands over Daisuke's chest, something Daisuke didn't feel like protesting at the moment.

"If you don't hate me ..." said Ken softly.

"Things can't be the way they used to be," said Daisuke quickly. Then he closed his eyes and gasped a little, because Ken's oiled fingers were teasing circles over his nipples. "You said you wouldn't seduce me," he moaned, but when he grabbed Ken's wrists he did nothing to make the other man stop.

"I said I wouldn't if you didn't want me to." Ken stopped his teasing and crouched down to whisper this into Daisuke's ear and follow it up with a slow lick. The scent of peaches grew a little stronger. "Give me another chance, Daisuke. I'm different now. I know what I did wrong and I swear I won't be like that again."

As Ken slowly tilted his hips to grind his erection against Daisuke, and Daisuke felt himself become hard as well, it was very tempting to say yes. Or at least say that he wanted to try Ken out again before making a decision. That stab of guilt hadn't gone away, though, and so he said, "What about Miyako?"

"What about her?" Ken sat back a little onto Daisuke's thighs and resumed his gentle stroking movements.

"I live with her, Ken. You know that."

"Do you love her?"

"Not really," said Daisuke, looking away and trying to ignore how arousing it was to have Ken sitting on top of him and petting him. "I think she loves me, though." He frowned. "Which really isn't fair. We moved in together for convenience, you know? Share rent and expenses and stuff, and each other. She used to be just like me. She was just in it for the sex and the money. It was like a rule that we weren't in a relationship and we could see anybody else we wanted to. Only ... we never did. And it was almost like we were, you know, together. And now she says she cares about me."

"Then that's her problem, isn't it?"

"Well, I never minded before. I don't know."

Ken's hand, damp with oil, touched the side of Daisuke's cheek, pulling Daisuke's gaze back to Ken's face. "Do you love her?" Ken repeated.

"I don't know," said Daisuke again, helpless. "I like her ... I'm comfortable around her. We have a lot in common. I just don't know."

"Here," said Ken, and leaned down to grant Daisuke a soft, pulling kiss. Daisuke slid his hands up Ken's arms to hold his shoulders, drawing himself up enough to meet his lover halfway. How he loved Ken's kisses, spicy with green tea and the scent of peach oil, flavored with desire; Ken was so tender, so cherishing. When Ken drew back, he relaxed back down, a little breathless. He closed his eyes as Ken ran an oily hand through his hair.

"Do you feel like this when you kiss her?" whispered Ken.

"No," murmured Daisuke, and groaned a little when Ken nuzzled his chin. Miyako was nothing like Ken. She wasn't dangerous, or thrilling. She couldn't tame Daisuke the way Ken could, the way Daisuke almost wanted him to again. She wasn't a predator, a lazy beast who could annihilate him on a whim but just didn't feel like doing it right this second.

"Do you want me to seduce you?" murmured Ken, right into Daisuke's ear so that his breath tickled and sent a chill down Daisuke's spine.

"No," said Daisuke, but when Ken lightly stroked the skin of his throat again, that quickly became, "Yes!"

They didn't retreat into the bedroom this time, but made love on the floor. Ken slid the rest of Daisuke's clothes off and rubbed scented oil into his dark skin, starting at his feet and moving up. This felt wonderful, and when Daisuke opened his eyes again, he was a little shocked; the oil held in the heat of his body, and his sweat mixed with it so that he glistened. When Ken hitched himself forward for a kiss, Daisuke tangled his hands in the dark, silky hair and tried to devour him. He felt wild, and so warm, and desirable.

For once, Ken didn't tie Daisuke down, or hold him down, or restrain him in any way. The last place he rubbed with oil-slicked hands was between Daisuke's legs, first teasing shuddering moans from Daisuke under the guise of massaging his penis and, very gently, his testicles. Then he raised his head a bit and looked steadily into Daisuke's eyes as his hand slipped lower and a finger probed carefully inside.

"Ahhh!" groaned Daisuke, clinging to Ken's sleeves as his body arched; Ken had not undressed yet at all, and the white fabric of his shirt was patchy with oil. "Ken-chan, please!" He writhed as he was violated and teased, sensitive tissues stimulated just enough to whet his desire for more. When the motion stopped, he fell back against the floor panting heavily for a moment, and then worked quickly to free Ken from his clothes as well. Once Ken's shirt was off, he attacked the exposed milky skin with frenzied licks and kisses.

Ken gasped and groaned, his hands in the spikes of Daisuke's hair, kneeling above him and holding him close. Daisuke put his arms around Ken's slender waist and both hands on Ken's spine as he sucked hard on a velvet nipple, so that he could feel the other man breathe. "I want you," he whispered without pausing. "I want you." He realized that Ken's hips were thrusting hard against him already, and heard Ken whimper as his hair was mauled, and he felt powerful. Despite his own slipping control, he felt that Ken was losing control as well, and that was a very pleasant sensation.

I can do this to him. I can strip away his civilization like this.

Daisuke had forgotten how intoxicating this power could be.

He didn't say the words, but he knew then that he would forgive Ken for what had been done to him. He couldn't possibly continue to hold a grudge against this raw sexuality, this dark beauty who made him feel so wanted, so beloved, so appealing.

It had been years since he had felt this alive.