I've not written for this fandom for a long while, so please excuse any OOC-ness - just playing around a little.


For the past three weeks, Yuki had been convincing himself that having the bed to his own was bliss.

Shuichi could be graceful enough when he put his mind to it, but in his sleep he was all elbows and knees, prodding and shoving and generally taking up far more room than was required for such a comparatively small frame. It usually made for a more disgruntled-than-usual Yuki – especially if the writer, who tended to be at his most productive in the evenings, had been staying up half the night to tap away in his study.

It was, therefore, no surprise that Yuki looked forward to spending several continuous nights in unbroken sleep. With his pink-haired idiot of a lover on tour, he knew he should have no problems in doing so. There was no cause to be lonesome, either. Yuki revelled in the quiet – he always had, and made sure everyone knew it – and anyway, he had seen Shuichi on the television a couple of nights ago while dazedly channel-surfing (the only reason he had been doing so at that particular hour of the morning was because he had woken up with the sudden urge to have a cigarette. This happened every now and again, and was not in any way related to Shuichi's absence). Seeing flashes of Shuichi on the screen had been more than enough to quell any sense of wistfulness that Yuki may or may not have had; in fact, those few glimpses of stage show coverage, displaying a clearly hyped-up Shuichi dressed in an outfit that the reporter actually had the nerve to call clothing, had been enough to make Yuki snort in derision and abandon the television altogether.

Yuki supposed that the only reason he had been having more vivid than usual dreams of late was because he had, naturally, been sleeping more. However you looked at it, this was a perfectly logical argument, and he had no reason to invest any more thought into it than he already had. If said dreams happened to be more on the… well, perhaps carnal was too strong a word… on the physical side, then that was only natural. Yuki was, after all, still a young and relatively healthy male, and he was long past the stage where he felt the need to be embarrassed about it.

Still, he couldn't help but feel that tonight in particular, the dream he was currently having was especially intense. Eyes flickering beneath closed lids, he hovered on the edge of slumber and wakefulness, the vaguest awareness of his surroundings in his mind as familiar hands ghosted up his stomach and over his chest. They traced his torso, mapping out gentle but altogether pleasurable half-circles there, and Yuki groaned his appreciation. His toes curled as fingers slid their way silently downwards, and Yuki decided he didn't really mind that a mouth had joined in with their actions.

Lips parted to kiss and carefully nip jutting hip-bone, while the fingers moved higher again, straying from their path to give one of Yuki's nipples an affectionate tweak. Meanwhile, a tongue was busy working its way from hip to inner thigh. Yuki felt a shudder run through him, and instinctively spread his legs further apart. The second moan that escaped his throat vibrated through his body, although it began and ended at the same place. His stomach gave a flutter.

The bed shifted under him. Obligingly, Yuki shifted with it, allowing the warmth that had been trailing in small, separate places throughout his being to settle more solidly in his lap. Inhaling sharply, sensing the direction in which those slender digits were travelling, he became more aware of himself, recognising his desire. It pooled around him, shifting and teasing like liquid shadows, until it eventually centred between his thighs. That Yuki knew he was by now far too mature to be having dreams like some horny teenager did not stop him from gasping aloud as those fingers, completely ignoring this fact, began to stroke.

Yuki could feel it plainly now; a throbbing, vaguely wet hardness that twitched just as he did. A sensuous phantom-mouth proceeded to lap deliberatelyat its tip, adding to the sensation of heated dampness before opening to him more fully. The wanton moan that echoed Yuki's previous noise reverberated up his length and through his spine, and was certainly not his own.

He jolted abruptly awake, breathing ragged and feeling dazed.

Yuki had been expecting the somewhat embarrassing, but quite easily dealt with, sticky sheets.

He had most definitely not been expecting a very obvious someone to be straddled, one leg on either side, over Yuki's waist.

"I'm home!" the figure told him gleefully, and his voice held barely suppressed laughter. "Did you miss me?"

"You…" Yuki was not used to being speechless.

There were dark rings under his eyes, but Shuichi looked decidedly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for all that. "Do you want me to… er, you know. Continue?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at the evidence still trapped beneath his palms.

Yuki snapped out of his stupor and scrambled to his knees, dislodging the deliberately squirming weight atop him. His fists opened and closed, miming the action of wringing a neck between them.

"You little-"

"Come on, Yuki, don't be like that. Besides, you were enjoying it while you were asleep. I could tell", Shuichi finished smugly. The minx had the audacity to grin cheekily up at him.

It was the smirk – that trademark expression reserved for Yuki's exclusive use – that made him snap. "Oh, you are mine", he breathed, and was gratified to see the smirk being hastily replaced in favour of a nervous swallow.

"Now Yuki, there's no need to… I was just…"

"You were just", Yuki glared, and watched Shuichi's eyes widen further. A predator, he kept Shuichi hypnotised with the force of his gaze as he crept closer. "Then you will excuse me if I also just."

The smirk suited him far more than it did Shuichi, and Yuki knew it. He liked his young lover best as he looked right now; scared and defenceless and immanently fuckable.

A panicked shriek filled the room as Yuki pounced.