Title: Luster (Or The Way They Are)
Rated: M
Pairing: AllenKanda
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Kanda's never been one for patience.

Notes: An alarming number of italicized words (sentences?) because I lost my head for a while. It happens XD. Initially written for practice because a few people told me that my smut scenes were sort of vague, but then I threw in their screwed up heads, and it turned out differently than I had planned. Apparently, writing unadulterated porn is still too big for me. Le sigh. Also, unbeta'd.


Kanda's never been one for patience.

Or for the way Allen leans in to lick - simply lick - at the ridge of his mouth, wet tongue working leisurely over the swell of the lower lip, and sigh contentedly, like he could do this all day, when all Kanda wants is jerk him closer and move, damn it, preferably against the nearest wall. Or door. Or desk. But the only response his frustrated groan earns him comes in the form of Allen's eyelids fluttering - once, twice - never fully opening, before he makes a soft noise of his own and tastes the roof of Kanda's mouth.

And it goes like this too often for Kanda to be entirely comfortable. Allen corners him in corridors, behind pillars, in store houses, for no particular reason other than to simply kiss - kiss languidly, with an almost lazy undertone, slow tongue exploring, saliva coating their chins, or with teeth, nips and bites and marks and hisses - but the point is, that these instances are only about the kissing, which in itself defies the point, because this is supposed to be about sex - good, safe, dirty sex - and all the idiot bean sprout does on these occasions is lean all his weight against him and suck on his tongue like he has all the fucking time in the world, and Kanda's doesn't push him away.

It's so screwed up that Kanda digs his fingers, brutally, into Allen's shoulders. Come on, come one, come on, more, fuck it, move, and Allen draws back with a look of concern brimming under the hazy surface of raw, explosive want. Places one warm palm against the stiff line of Kanda's jaw, cradles it, and smiles.

'Idiot,' Kanda says, but his voice is choked, because at the same time Allen leans in to kiss his fucking nose!


Sometimes, Allen does these things while assuming he's being discreet, when in fact, Kanda knows, he just comes out looking like a complete slut.

There's the way he lowers his eyelids in the middle of a conversation, or the way he looks at Kanda just so, with a twist of his lips which reminds him of all the other things that mouth's capable off. Then there's the way he slides his index finger up Kanda's wrist in one quick, private stroke which is anything but private because Lavi wolf whistles behind them and Lenalee smiles knowingly, and still the moron brushes too close and gazes too intimately, and continues touching, always, always touching.

'The fuck?' Kanda snaps one day, when he decides that enough is enough, he's tolerated a lot of things but he's not going to tolerate Allen staring at him like a dog stares at a bone after a sparring match earlier in the day, in full view of about half a dozen finders who had gathered around to watch. 'Idiot! The rate you're going you might as well ask me to bend over in the middle of the fucking dining hall.'

Allen looks startled for a moment before he closes his mouth and nods in understanding.

Kanda thinks with satisfaction, well, that's that.

His satisfaction lasts until about after dinner that night when Allen pats his stomach happily, walks up to where Kanda's finishing his own meal and says, 'See you later tonight?' before bending down to plant a loud, wet kiss on his mouth.

About a week later, Kanda heard Lavi comparing the look on his face to that of a particularly stupid goldfish.


Sex, Kanda learns, matures just like innocence. It starts off sticky and strange and quick, and later advances into a range of possibilities that, a year ago, he would have deemed as impossible.

It's not as if the sticky and strange bit wears off. Grinding Allen Walker into a tree still feels surreal - right, but surreal - even after having done it approximately a hundred times before, mainly as a result of Mugen having revealed more flesh than absolutely necessary while they were training (Sometimes Kanda suspects that Allen deliberately swings forward at the wrong moment just to have the blade rip a rather convenient slit, shamelessly exposing a pale shoulder.) But the initial desperate edge gradually gives way to a sort of comfort which allows you to navigate. Which tells you that the human body is a constantly evolving plan that can be mapped in so many different ways; with your tongue, teeth, fingers, eye lashes…

Allen likes the navigation. He traces the dips between Kanda's toes with his tongue, and nibbles, almost experimentally into a heel - and it should feel stupid and filthy because it's his foot for fucks sake, but instead Kanda has to bite down on his tongue in order to hold back these noises which are completely embarrassing and insane, and has to be dealt with later. Somehow. It's not so important anymore, not right now, not when Allen is kissing his way reverently up a muscled calf only to stop and nuzzle at the soft skin on the underside of his knee and who the fuck even does that, is he crazy?

Their whole thing begins to teeter on dangerous territory sometimes, like when Allen presses his cheek over Kanda's heart, and stopping all previous activity, simply lies there. And breathes. As though, for some godforsaken reason, this is more of an essentiality instead of their mutual, clawing need to get off. Then after what seems like ages, he crawls up, slides his open mouth over the pulse point in Kanda's throat and buries his face behind his ear, where raven hair meets skin, and inhales - inhales like its sex.

Kanda can't understand it; it's too fucking close and intimate and warm and so he kicks Allen out of bed. Yells. 'Out. Get the hell out.'

Allen scrambles up, looking affronted. 'What? What have I done to offend you this time?'

'Just,' Kanda edges away. 'This. What you keep doing. It's disgusting.'

Allen stares at him long and hard.

'I don't think you find it disgusting, Kanda.'

Then, just like that, he drops his trousers.


'What will you do?' Allen asks on one of the nights when Kanda's too exhausted and sated to act stuffy enough to leave for his own room. 'If I lose?'

Kanda snorts because trust the bean sprout to act like a complete idiot. 'We're not losing.'

'No,' Allen says, and something about his tone makes Kanda look at him sharply. 'If I lose?'

Allen Walker is pale, as pale as his hair in the moonlight, and his scars are gruesome, too titanic for a body so young. His blue eyes glimmer silver and desperate and for a moment Kanda has no idea what to say.

Because he knows that Allen has nightmares - knows that Allen starts awake in the middle of the night and looks at the world through different eyes, eyes which he has no memory of possessing in the mornings. Kanda knows that Allen has two wars to fight, and Kanda gets that, in a way, because so does he.

He pictures the lotus waiting for him in his quarters, luminous under the light of the same moon, and thinks shit. Because shit.

'It won't make a difference to me,' Kanda says, glaring up at the cracks in the ceiling. 'If you fall back, I'll leave you behind.'

Allen shifts next to him, and Kanda can almost taste his disappointment.

'I hate naïve people like you,' he mutters, half angry at himself. 'This is when you're supposed to say that you won't fall back. Ever. Fucking bean sprout.'

He turns to face Allen and immediately knows it's a mistake because the idiot is looking at him like that again, and he's glowing like a complete fool, and Kanda has to do something about it now because this is too damn ridiculous.

So he pushes Allen onto his back and pins him onto the mattress, and does everything he can to erase that look. For reasons he's not clear about himself, really.

The thing about taking Allen is that there comes a point, just as he's entering, that their roles get reversed; Kanda stills, and what seemed to be flashes of hot and rough and sweaty stretches into stilted moments - one slide after another. This part is always unbearable, almost like a test of his control, to see how slowly he can take this, how preciously he can cup the fragility of the moment and claim what he was being offered without shattering anything important.

But Allen Walker is not something that can be shattered this easily, so he groans and twists and Kanda sees white, and finally understands why people call it a blinding tint.

There's roaring in his ears, and Allen's moans, and in the midst of that, he hears, 'I've told you a hundred times. The name's Allen.'

'Shut up,' he pants, and it takes an inhuman effort to string whole sentences together. 'Shut up, and don't say shit like that again.'

'Okay,' Allen gasps, and slides his palm down Kanda's forearm, slick with sweat. 'I promise I won't fall back.'

'Idiot,' Kanda says. 'I don't need you to promise me anything.'

'Okay,' Allen says again, and leans up to kiss him, open mouthed, sloppy, and urgent in a way that seems to tell him And I promise I won't die on you either.

Kanda bit down softly on Allen's tongue. Whatever.


'You're distraught,' Marie says lightly, as Kanda throws himself under the shade of a tree, Mugen slumped in his hands. 'More than usual.'

Kanda makes a scoffing sound even though he knows it's true.

'Is it Allen? Marie asks softly.

Kanda narrows his eyes at him. 'That bean sprout doesn't affect me in any way.'

Marie sighs and shakes his head. 'Stubborn. You two are so similar, it's painful.'

'You've GOT to be KIDDING!' Kanda yells, and a group of birds take flight from the branch above him in alarm. 'Don't put me together with a total idiot like him.'

Marie runs a blade of grass over the two stubs where his fingers used to be. 'You know, when I told him, he said the exact same thing.'

'FUCK YOU!' Kanda shouts and pushing himself up, stalks away, back ramrod straight.


Allen licks a wet trail down the underside of Kanda's cock. Then he stops.

'You know,' he says, mouth so close to the foreskin at the tip that hot gusts of breath fans Kanda with each syllable. 'Lenalee asked me something today.'

'Nnnng,' Kanda says. 'Are you - fuck, are you thinking about Lenalee right now?'

'What?' Allen sounds surprised. 'No, of course not. I was just wondering - she asked me today if we were…dating.'

Kanda blinks. What?

'What?' He asks. Then he adds. 'The fuck?'

'Nothing,' Allen says quickly and takes Kanda's cock back into his mouth.

Then all that's left of the moment, the world, the bloody universe if you like is Allen Walker's mouth, and his tongue and the heat, and the idiot himself, and it's enough that Kanda loses himself within the rushing in his ears.

Later though, he thinks, dating? Was there any shred of normalcy left in their lives to constitute whatever was required of a date? Kanda knew all about poisonous bullets, and Akuma blood radiant in the vermillion evening sky, and Allen's eyes and gasps, and the sounds of their fucking. But normal?

Still, when he wakes up to the feel of Allen's fingers combing unobtrusively through his hair the next morning, and then to the sounds of humming as feet pad towards the bathroom, and warm, fresh sunlight bathes his face and chest, he thinks, for a short, comfortable moment, this feels pretty normal.


Kanda understands that he's losing his mind when he finds himself licking Allen's eyelids.

'Fuck,' he breathes into the moron's forehead.

'Hmm?' Allen murmurs, half asleep.


For the first time he wonders, if at some goddamn point in the middle of this madness, without his realizing it, he had fallen in -

'By the way,' Allen says, cracking one eye open, 'I told Lenalee that we are. Dating.'

Kanda has Mugen pressed into the idiot's neck the next instant as he spits, 'You're going to die.'

Allen pales but he says with false confidence. 'Alright. But please do inform me if that's going to be before or after I take care of your problem. The one that's currently digging into my thigh.'

Kanda swears.