“Hurry,” Roxas panted, straining backwards on the bed to force Axel a fraction deeper inside of him.

A leer charged across Axel’s face as he held Roxas’ hips tightly in both hands and stopped, giving the blonde boy the exact opposite of what he was begging for. Leaning forward, he took a large measure of pride in the uncontrolled shudder that wracked over Roxas’ body. Gravity, for now, was Roxas’ ally, the force of Axel’s weight burying him fully inside the younger Nobody.

Axel whispered in Roxas’ ear, sugar-sweet tones mocking Roxas with patience. “What’s the rush, Roxas? Maybe I want to take my time. Savor the moment.” He let one hand relinquish its hold to trail down Roxas’ exposed side, his palm gliding effortlessly over sweat-slicked skin. Another shiver rewarded his efforts, the motion echoed by quivering flesh squeezing around his buried erection. It took all of his control not to gasp.

“Patience,” Axel chided, “is a virtue.”

Roxas shoved his hips back hard, a surprising display of force considering his position. Axel had to give the kid props – he was a true fighter. Given a bit of room to move, Roxas took over where Axel had left off, rocking his hips rapidly in an effort to gain control. Axel’s hand was taken in an unyielding grip and placed quite firmly over Roxas’ erection.

“It doesn’t matter how fast it’s over,” Roxas bit out, his little speech interrupted by a soft sigh as Axel obligingly wrapped his fingers around the overheated flesh. “We can just do it again.”

Axel barely held back an indignant squawk as Roxas reached back and grabbed him by the hair. He found their faces suddenly even. Blue eyes pierced him.

“I know you want it as much as I do, so stop being an ass and fuck me already,” Roxas demanded evenly.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Axel laughed as he dodged Roxas’ attempts to punch him. Darting in quickly he bridged the scant space between them. He slid his tongue inside his lover’s welcoming mouth. Roxas stilled instantly as Axel slowly slid his hand over Roxas’ straining erection. He resisted the urge to prolong the kiss. Hips resumed their earlier rhythm and Roxas sighed as Axel was once more moving inside of him.

Axel quickened his pace, smiling as he watched Roxas writhing beneath him, so tantalizingly close to orgasm that Axel could almost taste it on his skin. “Let’s get this over with,” Axel teased. “I wanna see how many ‘again’s I can get through.”

Sex with Ulquiorra was simple, clean and clinical like a doctor’s visit, and about as pleasant as getting your arm ripped off. Or at least that’s what Ulquiorra liked people to think. Grimmjow knew better. He’d had his arm ripped off before, and as amusing as that had been, once the pain wore off, sex with Ulquiorra was by far the preferable option.

What none of the arrancar knew was exactly how good sex with Ulquiorra could be. They never would know, considering the vehemence of Ulquiorra’s threats of what would happen if Grimmjow so much as thought about bragging. His arm he could deal with being ripped off, but there were certain parts that he’d prefer to keep right where they are. Still, it was a strange sort of high knowing that he was the only one to know about Ulquiorra’s more… untamed side. Not that he really needed anything to make him high, not with Ulquiorra’s hips twisting against his and those needy little moans Ulquiorra kept making.

Grimmjow’s grin split his face in half as he leaned down, his breath ghosting along sweat-beaded skin. Ulquiorra turned his head to the side, giving Grimmjow room to close his teeth over Ulquiorra’s shoulder. He paused, teeth pressing down hard enough to leave a bruise similar to the dozens of other bite marks littering Ulquiorra’s skin. They were the only possessiveness either of them allowed outside of the bedroom.

His lips curled in a wicked grin and he increased the pressure of his teeth until the skin broke. Blood salted his lips and Grimmjow laved at the skin, not letting a single drop of red hit the sheets. Ulquiorra’s moans were deafening and he twisted, tightening his legs wider around Grimmjow’s waist and writhing, forcing Grimmjow’s erection to move inside of him for the last few seconds it took before he came. Grimmjow’s mouth didn’t move away from Ulquiorra’s neck as the other arrancar spilled himself between them, and he stayed still, chasing the last few drops of blood while he came silently, barely noticing his own release.

Their bodies stilled slowly. Ulquiorra fell back against the sheets, his limbs falling to the sheets in limp disarray. With the blood gone, Grimmjow’s attention finally returned to Ulquiorra. He leaned back, his smile still stretched wide as he admired his handiwork. There was something beautiful about bruised skin and fresh scabs.

“I hope you know,” he drawled, “that I won’t give you up.”

Ulquiorra smiled, his expression a mix of concealed fondness and cold dispassion. “At least you know what you’re getting into.”

Grimmjow smiled madly.

He didn’t remember much of the ride to Midgar. He was hot, far too hot and his uniform felt like it was chocking him. His memories swirled, lost in a puddle at his feet and dripping through the floorboards of a rickety old truck.

After a while he started to pick up bits and pieces – the bouncing of the truck down the road, Zack’s sword flashing and parting the ground in front of him, changing uniforms. Most of all he remembered Zack holding him, his arms wrapped tight as if to keep Cloud’s body from disappearing along with his mind. Zack kissed him, once or twice, hurried kisses while no one was looking because he was afraid, thinking no one would help them if they knew they were more than just a pair of Soldiers, they were a pair of lovers.

He remembered rain and much, motorcycles, and the sounds of people dying.

The last thing he remembered was Zack falling.

Kazahaya fidgeted nervously beside him and Rikuo couldn’t help but smirk in the darkness. He knew Kazahaya couldn’t see him, but it was automatic – tease the boy even when he wasn’t looking.

“Can’t you hurry up already?” Kazahaya complained, shifting his weight from foot to foot yet again.

“It’s not exactly easy to pick a lock in the dark, from the other side of the door,” Rikuo reminded, making his voice sound more cross than he actually was. He could have just blasted the entire door down, knocking the wood completely off its hinges. Kazahaya had apparently forgotten too and Rikuo wasn’t going to remind him. He didn’t have anything else to do today, and they’d already found the book Kakei had sent them to look for.

Kazahaya fidgeted again, rubbing up against Rikuo’s side accidentally. Well, not exactly by accident. The closet was small enough that they had to be pressed against each other just to fit inside and that had been fine for the five minutes it had taken to get the book from the top shelf but then someone had walked by and shut the door, not knowing there were people inside and it was a surprise to both of them to find that the door locked automatically.

Who put books in a closet anyways? And why did the closet full of books even need a lock?

He was fairly certain Kakei would know the answer, but part of him was convinced that Kakei had sent them after the book just so that they would get stuck in the closet together. Kazahaya hadn’t gone all weird on him after touching the book which meant it was probably just an ordinary book.

Which meant that he really should enjoy the situation as much as he could since Kakei had gone to all the trouble of setting it up.

Rikuo shifted away from the door, causing Kazahaya to squawk indignantly as he was forced back into the shelves. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”

He didn’t bother responding, just shifted his hip slightly so it rubbed against Kazahaya’s chest. He could almost hear Kazahaya’s mouth flapping indignantly, and it was a sign of how uncomfortable he was making Kazahaya that the blonde wasn’t screaming at him. Yet.

“Is something wrong?” Rikuo asked, all too aware of the way their closeness was affecting Kazahaya. There were days when he really just wanted to pin the boy down, but it was hard to tell whether Kazahaya would actually let him or if the blonde would scream bloody murder. Either way it would be fun and he wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t tried it yet. He probably wouldn’t take nearly as much pleasure in teasing Kazahaya if the boy didn’t make such a big deal out of everything.

Kazahaya shoved at his chest but he didn’t have enough force in his arms to move Rikuo even a fraction of an inch. “Back off! You’re crowding me.” In someone else, that type of whining would have probably annoyed him. With Kazahaya it was annoying, but also strangely cute in a way that made Rikuo want to make him whine some more.

“There’s not really anywhere else to go,” Rikuo shot back. “It’s a closet, moron.”

“Well you weren’t this close before!” So he had been paying attention. Good to know. “There was definitely more room between us before, and then you decided to start taking up more of my space, so you can just go back to where you were.” Kazahaya finished his rambling by pushing on Rikuo’s chest again.

Rikuo shifted a fraction closer, wondering if Kazahaya would still notice the change in space if he went slower.

He did notice.

“Get, get, get, get, get!” Kazahaya yelled, pushing on Rikuo’s arm.

“What’s the matter? Is there something wrong with me standing here? I didn’t realize you hated me that much.”

Apparently Kazahaya didn’t know what to say in response to that and the closet was silent for a long moment.

Rikuo brushed his hand ‘accidentally’ along Kazahaya’s hip. “Or maybe the problem’s that you like it a little too much? Did that trip to the all boy’s school give you some ideas? I bet you were the kind of kid that was real popular for Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“I… You… I…” That seemed to be the temporary extent of Kazahaya’s vocabulary.

Leaning forward, Rikuo whispered in Kazahaya’s ear… or he was fairly certain it was Kazahaya’s ear, it was hard to tell in the dark. Either way, he whispered in the vague direction of Kazahaya’s face. “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

“No!” Kazahaya denied quickly, which meant that he had been blushing and that Rikuo was probably right about the whole boys school thing. He really was going to have to pin Kazahaya down sometime after they got out of the closet. He almost considered trying it now, but that would probably lead to shelves in awkward places and Kazahaya would never forgive him for the bruises.

But it would have been fun to try. There was a storage closet in the drugstore that he was fairly certain Saiga and Kakei had already ‘christened’ so they couldn’t really fault him for trying the same thing.

Turning, Rikuo braced his hands on the shelves behind Kazahaya, pinning the boy between himself and the metal. He chuckled softly, his breath hitting the side of Kazahaya’s face. “I can take my time, you know. There’s no rush getting back to the store.” Rikuo pressed his hips forward slightly, reveling in the blonde’s shocked gasp. Really, the boy should know better than to encourage him.

Approaching footsteps warned Rikuo to pull away and he turned in time to watch the door open from the outside. Kazahaya flinched at the suddenly bright light but Rikuo just looked into Saiga’s impassive face.

“Kakei wanted me to tell you two to come out of the closet already,” Saiga said with a smirk. “He needs some help that the shop.”

Kazahaya didn’t stop yelling at them for the rest of the day.

The faint sound of a guitar being strummed echoed softly through the apartment, so low that their neighbors on the other side of the wall probably didn’t even hear it. Santa smiled from the kitchen. Not only could he hear it, he could pick out each individual note and if he closed his eyes he see Yuki’s fingers dancing over the strings. The melody wasn’t one of his favorite songs, but he hummed along anyways. It was something Yuki had picked up from another band, a song he liked just for the way it sounded and Santa had a feeling that it would be inspiration for something else. Yuki did that sometimes, took a song he’d heard and then twisted it around, rearranging the notes and adding embellishments until it sounded nothing like the original except to Yuki.

Santa stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea, being careful to keep the spoon from clinking against the sides – not out of any concern for the cup but rather because it drowned out the sound of the guitar. The spoon went into the sink as soon as he was done, a move which would have shocked his parents if they could see it. Living with Yuki had made him a lot neater, not out of any sort of effort on either of their parts, it had just sort of happened. Yuki was like that. Santa hadn’t even notice that he’d shifted some of his behaviors to better fit with Yuki’s quiet lifestyle until after the shift was complete.

Still, he didn’t mind changing, especially as it made him feel somewhat closer to Yuki.

His feet barely made a sound as he padded through the apartment. That was another change that had snuck up on him, how quiet he could be without even thinking about it. Not that Yuki minded when he was loud, which still happened fairly regularly, though not as much as it used to. Santa liked being quiet, most of the time, because it was almost like he appreciated the moment more when things were silent, and it had led him to appreciate all of the subtler sounds that came with Yuki. His heartbeat, for example, which slowed or quickened depending on what Santa did, or his breathing – the tiny gasps Yuki made when Santa was inside him, or the quiet moans Yuki tried to hold back while Santa was nibbling on his ear or shoulder or neck, and even the way Yuki tried so hard to keep quiet – usually failing – when Santa had him pinned to the bed, his mouth around Yuki’s erection and his fingers moving inside.

The bedroom door was open and Santa leaned against the doorframe to watch, not wanting to walk in and disturb Yuki with his guitar. His lover had his head down, purple hair fanning off to the side of the guitar and he was mouthing something, words not given breath while he played through the same short refrain over and over again.

Santa sipped his tea and let his mind wander through various scenarios of drum arrangements that could go with it, or whether it would be better just to leave the guitar melody alone, maybe add in a second bass or just Sakuya’s voice. The melody shifted with each refrain, morphing into something that sounded a lot more like Lucifer.

It took Santa a moment to realize the music had stopped and he looked up from his tea to smile over at Yuki. “It sounds nice.” His voice came out hushed and a little reverent. He really was in awe, sometimes, at how good a musician Yuki was.

“Thanks.” Yuki’s smile seemed to make the room a bit brighter and he shifted his guitar, moving over towards the foot of the bed in case Santa wanted to sit down.

Taking another sip of his tea, Santa crossed the room, setting the cup on the bedside table before laying back on the bed next to Yuki. He reached out and rested his hand on the bare skin exposed by the back of Yuki’s shirt.

“What’s the song about?” In his head Yuki had probably already worked out the whole reason for the melody, and though he’d probably leave it up to Sakuya to mix in lyrics Santa had learned that melodies always had a reason with Yuki and even if there weren’t any words it still had some meaning. Santa liked to think it was the songs without words that had the most meaning.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Yuki said as he shifted on the bed, turning on his side and laying back so that Santa’s arm curled around him and he was facing Santa. The smile on Yuki’s face said that he probably did have a meaning attached to the song, he just wasn’t going to tell anyone yet.

Santa smiled back. That meant it was probably something romantic, and something he’d have to kiss – possibly more – Yuki for later. Or now.

Their lips met softly, no real fervor behind their kiss and it was as quiet as the strains in the guitar. Santa’s hand still rested on the small of Yuki’s back and he brought the other up to rest on Yuki’s hip. Tongues darted out, just briefly, neither of them doing much to deepen the kiss but the possibility was always there, it just needed one of them to ignite the spark that was simmering low between them.

Yuki pulled away slightly, leaning back enough of that he could look Santa in the face. One of his hands reached up, brushing a stray lock of Santa’s hair away from his face.

“I think I’ll keep the song to myself, just for a little while longer.” Yuki whispered with a smile and then started humming.

Santa was pretty sure he could guess what the song was about, and the way Yuki’s hands dipped underneath the hem of his shirt dispelled any doubts.

Riya was watching him. Black Riya to be exact. He’d been like that all day, following Atsushi around the house while he cleaned. At first it had been a little annoying, especially since Riya didn’t say anything and he didn’t seem to be in a mood to talk. Or at least he didn’t answer Atsushi any time that he tried to talk. After the first hour he’d gotten used to it, and Riya’s presence was just like that of a housecat that would follow him around.

At least Riya wasn’t avoiding him. After last night, he’d expected Riya to be mad him, assuming he remembered at all. But he hadn’t changed back to white Riya, at least not yet.

Atsushi stared around the room. There didn’t seem to be anything left for him to do here. A glance at his watch told him it was almost noon.

He glanced at the blonde perched on the couch. “Do you want some lunch?”

Riya just stared back at him.

With a sign, Atsushi headed for the kitchen. The soft padding of bare feet on carpet followed him. The kitchen was bright and clean, mid-day sun shining in through the large windows. He’d cleaned the kitchen first, while he was making breakfast before Riya woke up. There was still a bit of food left in the refrigerator – he’d have to go grocery shopping later in the week, but they at least had enough that he could keep Riya and himself fed until Wednesday.

“Do you want anything in particular?” Atsushi asked as Riya settled on the other side of the island counter. There was no answer, but he hadn’t really been expecting one.

He pulled sliced bread from the cabinet, then pre-sliced meat and cheese from the fridge. Sandwiches were simple enough to make, and Riya had eaten the same type last time Atsushi had made them so he assumed the younger boy didn’t dislike them.

Atsushi set a plate in front of Riya before seating himself. Riya looked at the food for a brief minute and then thankfully he started eating. Atsushi had been slightly worried that Riya’s whole silent kick meant he wasn’t going to eat or interact at all with Atsushi.

They ate silently, the sound of their chewing the only thing heard in the kitchen.

“Why did you say I don’t love you?”

Atsushi jumped slightly. He blinked, almost not sure he’d actually heard Riya speak.

“Pardon?”

“Why don’t I love you?”

The remains of Atsushi’s sandwich were carefully set down on his plate before he would return Riya’s stare. He knew they’d have to talk about this at some point but he hadn’t thought it’d be this soon… Well, actually he’d almost expected Riya to come after him last night and demand an answer, but after they’d spent the night apart and then Riya hadn’t been talking to him all morning so he’d assumed Riya had put the whole thing behind them.

Apparently not.

“Because you don’t,” Atsushi answered slowly. He wasn’t quite sure what answer Riya was looking for, or if he’d even be able to articulate something he knew beyond doubt.

“Why?” There wasn’t any incrimination in Riya’s voice, just calm curiosity.

Atsushi leaned forward on his elbows. “Why did you want to sleep with me?”

Riya frowned. “I just wanted to.”

“Because the other Riya had sex and you didn’t like it. So you wanted to do something white Riya wouldn’t like.”

Riya’s frown darkened. “But I thought you loved me. Don’t you want to have sex with me? I thought you wanted me?”

“I do, and I do,” Atsushi answered both questions at once. “And it’s because I love you that I can’t have sex with you, not when you obviously don’t.”

He could see that Riya wasn’t getting it, but Atsushi hadn’t fully expected him to. “But I do.”

Atsushi stood slowly, being careful to make sure his chair didn’t scrape on the tile. He tossed his sandwich into the garbage and set his plate in the dishwasher. This conversation really wasn’t going anywhere. Riya didn’t move from his seat. He’d barely eaten two bites of the sandwich. Atsushi would come back later to clean up. He didn’t think he could deal with much more of Riya’s shadowing right now.

He paused in the doorway and looked back at Riya. “I really do love you,” he repeated, “but if you can’t even look at me when I’m touching you, then it’s not a mutual attraction and I love you enough not to force it. I’d be happy to sleep with you, if you returned my feelings, but until then… I really can’t.”

Riya didn’t say anything as Atsushi left.

He hadn’t expected him to.

The wedding wasn’t a complete disaster. More accurately, it was a series of small disasters strung together and carefully hidden by a thin veil of deception. But the same description could be applied to many of the points in Shinobu’s life, which was probably why he was taking everything so much in stride. Well, not everything. Somehow his world had flipped backwards and it was Mitsuru’s brother, of all people, who was causing trouble while Nagisa was the one supporting them and trying to smooth everything over. He still hadn’t yet figured out how she found out about the wedding, since he certainly didn’t send any invitations to his family, but she’d been here almost as long as he had and had magically transformed into someone who actually cared.

Of course, her support was most likely largely due to the fact that, as he was marrying into Mitsuru’s family, he was also giving up his own and therefore no longer in the running for their family’s fortune. At least that’s what Shinobu told himself, because he really didn’t want to consider that his sister had actual familial affection for him, or that she had fallen pray to the ‘romantic moment’ that weddings seemed to create with women. That would be far too weird. Whatever the reason, she was making damned certain that nothing interfered with her brother’s wedding.

Between himself, Nagisa, and Mitsuru’s parents, they were able to keep Mitsuru’s younger brother mostly in check. The cake was salvaged with only a slight touch up of the frosting needed, the reception name cards were reordered in remarkable time, and they’d even managed to get the tuxes dry-cleaned in record time.

All of this with Mitsuru none the wiser, which is exactly the way Shinobu liked things. After years of dealing with Nagisa, Mitsuru’s brother was nothing. His threats were hardly original, and with Mitsuru’s parents keeping an eye on the boy for the rest of the day things seemed in the clear. He could almost imagine Nagisa tackling the boy if he tried to get in trouble again, and wouldn’t that be a wonderful sight to see. It would almost have been worth the huge juggling act the boy had put them all through just to see that.

The service itself went off without a hitch. Shinobu nearly laughed out loud at the look on the boy’s face when he tried to object, only to have his foot practically crushed by Shin.

In a way, he could understand where the boy was coming from. He was terrified of losing his older brother and with Mitsuru talking about finding housing in a different district, they wouldn’t be able to visit quite as much as usual. Still, the time for objections was long past – he should have realized his brother was leaving, what with the whole three months they’d spent with Mitsuru’s parents planning everything out and arranging all the minute details that went on at weddings, details that Shinobu had mostly overlooked in favor of just going along with whatever Mitsuru wanted because he honestly didn’t care. This wedding was something Mitsuru really wanted, therefore it was something Shinobu wanted and nothing, not even soon-to-be family got in the way of that.

Nagisa could attest to that.

And at the end of the day, Mitsuru was waiting for him in the room they shared at Mitsuru’s parent’s house. It was quiet and it felt like they hadn’t been alone together forever, not without people bothering them with photos and rushing them from point to point. But they were married, and Mitsuru was his – legally and binding, or at least as legal as they could make a same-sex marriage. Either way, he wasn’t letting go, and he doubted Mitsuru would either.

They kissed without saying anything. At this point, words really weren’t necessary and they’d already spent all day saying everything they needed to – publicly, in front of a crowd of fifty or more relatives.

Mitsuru was smiling like a loon, so much so that Shinobu almost thought he’d finally gone off the deep end. He would have suspected at least a bit of insanity – or possession – if it weren’t for the wedding. Mitsuru couldn’t deny that his family didn’t want him around anymore, not when they’d just welcomed Shinobu into their home and showered blessings on their union. There wasn’t a single relative that Shinobu could think of in Mitsuru’s family that hadn’t attended.

Shinobu’s family was an entirely different matter, but he really hadn’t expected, or wanted, any of them to show up. This day was about making Mitsuru happy, and Shinobu’s family wasn’t conductive to that, as much as Mitsuru had seemed disappointed to learn that none of them were coming.

Or at least they’d thought no one was coming, but then Nagisa had shown up. In truth, that was probably the only person Shinobu would have – grudgingly – welcomed to the wedding.

Still, all in all, Shinobu would grudgingly admit that the wedding wasn’t a horrible thing and he might be slightly more likely, now, to let Mitsuru talk him in to some of the other ridiculously romantic things he wanted them to do as a couple.

Florian had never really counted on Noir being one of the people he trusted. At first he had been a villain, a thief and a scoundrel and a dirty moneylender who prayed off of other people’s debts. Florian had counted himself a prisoner and vainly awaited the day when he could free himself from his debt and escape Noir’s foul clutches.

He wasn’t quite sure when that opinion had changed. There were a lot of moments he could think of where Noir had shown genuine kindness, and after all their adventures he’d come to think of Noir as someone he could trust to keep him safe, to watch after Florian and maybe even someone who had his best interests at heart.

But trust had many shades and many different levels, and though he’d started to trust Noir in one sense, it was an entirely different sense that they were embarking on now.

His legs trembled and he was glad Noir was kissing him because it kept him from looking down and seeing the sure sign of weakness that meant. He knew that Noir most likely noticed – there was little the thief didn’t notice – but at least he wasn’t looking which made it slightly more bearable.

He knew, in his head, that Noir wasn’t going to hurt him. Well, he couldn’t be entirely certain, since sex between men did have a certain amount of pain involved, but he didn’t think Noir was going to hurt him on purpose in the malicious sense. Still there was a large difference between knowing something and believing it, and his subconscious was still scared, assured that this moment was going to be exactly like what Azura had done to him.

So if he clung a little too tightly to Noir and trembled a little when Noir’s fingers pressed inside of him, he counted that as excusable. He had a reason to be afraid and even though he wanted it – wanted Noir and this, there was still a part of him that couldn’t quite get over what had happened – the part of him that had made him jump every time someone touched him when he wasn’t looking for the first month after he’d got his memory back, and still sometimes to this day he couldn’t help it.

The nightmares had stopped, at least, and Noir was definitely to thank for that. This wasn’t Florian’s first night in Noir’s bed, but it was his first time in Noir’s bed with no clothes on.

“Stop thinking,” Noir whispered in his ear and then bit lightly on the lobe, worrying it in a way that made Florian gasp and twitch.

He wanted to apologize but he wasn’t quite sure he had the breath.

Noir removed his fingers and Florian tensed, knowing what part was coming and suddenly very, very scared. He didn’t want to go through that kind of pain again.

“Florian, look at me.”

Opening his eyes, Florian looked up at Noir. There were unshed tears beading at the corners of his eyes but he didn’t look away. Noir understood, which is why Florian trusted him so much, and even though Noir had never said it, not in exact words, but he was fairly certain Noir loved him as well.

“Keep your eyes on me, Florian.”

He nodded once and relaxed a little as Noir’s hands rubbed along his sides. Neither of them moved for several long minutes and it was like the motion of Noir’s hands was unwinding him, unknotting tensed muscles until he felt almost limp against the bed. Noir’s eyes held his as Noir’s hands slid down to his knees, helping Florian lift them up over Noir’s back. That made it a bit more comfortable, because it was like he was hugging Noir twice – two ways to cling onto the man above him.

His eyes almost shut as he felt the first faint pressure of Noir’s head nudging against him but Noir called his name, holding his attention long enough for Noir to slip slowly inside. Florian shivered. It had been a long, long while since he’d had sex with another man and with Azura it had felt nothing like this. Azura had felt like an invasion, like Florian was being robbed. With Noir he felt complete, like he was welcoming Noir home, inside of him, and this was they way they were supposed to be, hearts and bodies connected.

Then Noir moved and Florian lost all sense of comparison because this was good. It didn’t hurt and he wasn’t sure if that was a difference in skill or just in trust, but it wasn’t scary like he thought it would be. He clung to Noir, not to find comfort but to bring him closer, to help Noir reach deeper inside of him. His eyes closed and there was no ghost of a memory chasing him.

The curtains on the bed were closed and they made the bed feel like a cocoon, wrapping the two of them inside and shutting out the rest of the world. Florian’s voice was loud, echoing off the fabric with each touch, each thrust, each tender kiss. It felt like he wasn’t doing enough, just lying on the bed while Noir moved inside of him. He wanted to know more, to be able to make Noir feel this good.

Florian looked up into Noir’s face and there was no doubt that they were both enjoying this equally as much. Noir was concentrating, sweat beading on his brow while the muscles in his arms and chest flexed. He was still watching Florian, had been the whole time.

It was too much. Florian’s back arched as he came and Noir smirked, his smile the same as when he’d stolen a particularly valuable jewel. He kept moving, his hips not slowing down even as Florian melted back on the bed and he shivered, in pleasure this time, and it was like he was feeling everything in double. His over-sensitized body made every faint touch feel ten times better and Florian was sure he was going to explode or go insane if Noir didn’t come soon – he felt like he should be coming again, though his body disagreed.

An eternity later Noir finally stopped, slamming forward one last time with a thrust so hard Florian saw stars and he felt it when Noir came inside of him, spent seed leaking out onto Florian’s thighs.

They were both breathless and he wasn’t the only one clinging. Florian had made the right choice in giving Noir his trust.

There was something comforting about being on the road with Cesare. The cities were nice – comfortable beds, good food and better wine, and the occasional pretty girl, but Michelotto far preferred the countryside. Or, more accurately, he preferred Cesare when it was just the two of them and there was no one else watching. That was when Cesare seemed to drop his masks and become human again, no longer the politician and schemer, or the devil in man’s clothing. When they were out in the countryside he could pretend that Cesare was just another man – a young man, but a man nonetheless.

Cesare dressed simpler while they were traveling – there was no one to impress with his finery besides Michelotto and the goats they passed. The goats probably cared more about fine clothing than Michelotto did.

“Let’s stop.” Cesare turned his horse off the road without waiting for Michelotto.

Wherever Cesare wanted to stop, it wasn’t immediately apparent since their horses didn’t stop for several paces. Cesare led them into a thin thicket of trees, their horses moving slowly over an old game trail. The sound of running water could be faintly heard over the stamping of hooves and Michelotto had to smile. Trust Cesare to find a secluded stream in any part of the country.

They pulled up their horses at the edge of the tree line and Cesare jumped off his without waiting, trusting Michelotto to see to it while he shucked his clothing, leaving the fabric draped over a rock at the upper bank of the pool. Michelotto had to admire the way Cesare moved. There was no denying his beauty, and while Cesare’s naked form wasn’t new to him, that didn’t stop him from appreciating it every time he saw it – which was fairly often considering the way he followed Cesare around.

Michelotto tied the horses reigns to a sturdy branch, giving them enough lead that they could pick at the brush and any of the low-hanging branches. He kept his sword at his side. Trouble could find them at any time, and he liked to be prepared.

“We should be going,” Michelotto reminded. “I don’t think it’s safe to idle like this.”

Cesare ignored him, as expected, and continued to splash in the pool.

“We’ve been on the road forever,” came the reply from the glistening water, “and I’m filthy with dust. It’ll just take a few moments. Besides, the day is too nice not to take advantage.”

Michelotto sighed and took a seat on the bank, on hand gripping his sword hilt lightly.

“You could come in, you know.”

Michelotto shook his head. He really didn’t think they should be idling and if he went in the water they’d only waste more time. If he still had his clothes on then there was at least a chance that they could save time.

Instead, Michelotto watched.

It truly was a nice day. The sun was shining and the weather was fairly warm. Not quite warm enough that he would have wanted to get wet but Cesare was the type to take outdoor baths in late fall. Still, despite the delay it would cause them, he was thankful for the ability to observe Cesare while he frolicked in the waves. It was rare few moments when Cesare could truly let his guard down, and there was a part of Michelotto that wanted to fight, to kill every man that stood in his way, so that Cesare didn’t have to bother with his masks anymore.

He knew that wasn’t going to happen. As long as there was at least one other person in this world beside Michelotto and Cesare’s sister, he would always have masks. It was sad, in a way, to think that Cesare couldn’t be truly free, but Michelotto understood. He had a mask of his own after all, though his fit inside a pocket and he could take it on or pull it off as he wished. Cesare’s were built in, an automatic reflex to guard him from the world that seemed intent on destroying him, at times, or at least intent on turning him towards their powers.

They should be on their way, but Michelotto couldn’t bring himself to call an end to Cesare’s bath. They had time, they could wait a few more moments. Until then, Michelotto would watch, and wait.

Tamiya thought he could read Toono fairly well, or at least better than anyone else they knew except maybe Toono’s family – though even they seemed to have a bit of trouble sometimes. Still, his boyfriend’s lack of expression didn’t come without a few problems and Tamiya was learning that it wasn’t so much that he could read Toono’s expressions from the few subtle shifts in his facial features, but that he was really just making very good guesses at what Toono’s expression meant based on minute clues and his own interpretation.

Like he said, he was good at it, but it was also really hard sometimes and he thought, maybe, he was guessing wrong. Like, for example, when they were having sex. He didn’t have a whole lot to compare to, but he thought that Toono was into it. Not really into it, or at least that’s not what his expression said, but he thought that Toono was enjoying himself. Or at least he hoped, which is where the whole guessing problem came into play because he wasn’t quite sure if Toono really was enjoying it or if Tamiya just wanted Toono to be enjoying it and therefore pretended he was.

Toono had been making comments about wanting to have sex, extremely veiled comments that required a degree in Toono translating to decipher, accompanied with a lot of shuffling and blushing that completely destroyed the secrecy Toono was trying to build up with his discrete wording. So, Toono wanted it, or at least thought he wanted it, but Tamiya had this horrid fear that he wasn’t living up to the expectation. Toono showed so little expression that it was hard to tell if he was gasping in pain or in pleasure.

Tamiya shifted his hips, freezing the moment he heard Toono gasp. Toono’s face was scrunched up, eyes closed and he could be feeling anything as far as Tamiya could tell. He stayed still, not sure what he was supposed to do, in case he really was causing Toono pain.

Then Toono shifted his hips, rubbing against Tamiya in a way that was so sexy he felt like he was going to explode.

“Please,” Toono was breathless and when he opened his eyes to stare up at Tamiya with a face that oozed love and trust, it was hard, really really hard, not to come right there.

“…Tamiya… please… don’t stop.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. More really, because too much encouragement made him want to do… things to Toono that would make both of them blush, at least for a while.

Toono kept his eyes open and Tamiya held onto that gaze as he drew his hips back, thrusting slowly forward as an experiment. Toono’s arms tightened around his back and he took that as a sign to increase both the force and the momentum, and all the while he watched Toono’s face for the slightest sign of pain.

He didn’t have to worry, because Toono seemed to let loose once they got really into it, and he was vocal. They weren’t so much words and incoherent sounds – little moans and gasps that blended, one into another, changing in pitch and duration so it was kind of like Toono was signing for him, creating music to match their lovemaking.

It was incredibly cute, but Tamiya was slightly biased since he thought everything Toono did was cute beyond words.

It didn’t take either of them very long to finish. They were teenagers. He did feel slightly better that Toono was the first to come. He’d wanted to make sure, to be absolutely certain that Toono really was getting everything out of it that Tamiya was so he held back. It was hard, especially with Toono making all those cute little sounds, but somehow he managed.

The second Toono’s body clenched around him, he was a goner. Tamiya shouted, slamming his hips forward a lot harder than he intended to, but Toono didn’t seem to mind, he just curled his legs slightly tighter around Tamiya’s chest and whimpered a little.

They stared at each other while their breathing slowed. Toono opened his mouth to say something, but Tamiya didn’t feel like talking, at least not at that exact second. He kissed Toono, hoping that maybe he could make his kiss say everything that he wanted to say aloud but felt foolish talking about – how he wanted Toono to be happy and would do anything to make Toono happy, and how he wished they knew each other better so he wouldn’t be so uncertain about whether he was making Toono happy.

Judging from the way Toono kissed back, he got the message, and he understood. Maybe Toono’s way of communicating wasn’t so bad. There was something nice about not speaking – about talking instead with roving hands and tongues and bodies locked tightly together.

Toono’s legs shifted, sliding slowly down Tamiya’s hips to lay, somewhat haphazardly, propped up on the bed. Tamiya’s fingers traced faint patterns along Toono’s skin as he slipped out, moving Toono with him as he turned onto his back.

“Thank you,” Toono whispered into the sudden stillness of the room.

Tamiya couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. He should be thanking Toono. Instead, he placed a chaste kiss into Toono’s hair, and let his arm curl tighter around Toono’s chest. Toono shifted, sliding over until he was laying almost on top of Tamiya and he thought, maybe, this was the closest they’d come yet to having a clear conversation.