Title: Addicted

Rating : T

Pairing: Emil X Richter

Concept: 26 oneshots, with titles from A to Z. Warning: some may be (mildly) M-rated. This one is not a lemon but still a bit more than a lime; or as my friend Katonryu calls it: an Orange:D

A/N : The very first oneshot, some will be short, others will be longer.(Hopefully, I'm doing the best I can really) Most of you voted for this word, even my mom, which is slightly disturbing, seeing I'm pretty sure I didn't let my fic wide open for the world to read. But Addicted it is. I'm even listening to Saving Abel with Addicted as I'm writing this. I like to sing along with it, even though my friends are often telling me I'd do better without a voice:P. But I can't sing along at the moment since my own pc is being restored (Damn you virusses!) So I'm currently writing my stuff in the living room on my mom's pc. You know what? I'll stop ranting now.
Enjoy :D (Also any suggestions for the next word are welcome.)

No one can be really sure when something is called an addiction, or the moment it becomes unhealthy. But everyone knows that addictions come in many forms. Some people are addicted to booze, others to smoking. Some people claim they are addicted to sports, others say they have a sex addiction. You have addictions to activities, to books or to food, you name it.

But in the case of both Richter and Emil, they would have to be addicted to each other.

Emil was addicted to everything Richter would do; even his attempts at cooking made his heart skip a beat and his stomach contract for various reasons. Every touch sent jolts of pleasure soaring through his body and sparks tickling his skin. And he couldn't get enough of it. He was addicted to touching Richter, the way he could barely close his arms around him when giving a hug, the way the man would chuckle before stroking his hair and returning the gesture, the vibrations that chuckle caused to run through their bodies. Even the way the man's scent would fry his brain.

Yes, he would blush when Richter touched him in a rather...intimate way. But he would never want the man to stop doing what he did. Richter knew everything about him, every weak spot on his body, how to hit that spot that would make him see stars, but also what food he did and didn't like or his favourite books. How the man had come to know this he did not know, but the fact that he went through the trouble of figuring this out made Emil love the man all the more. His green eyes, his well-toned body, his ice-melting voice, his silky hair. What wasn't there to love about the man? He was addicted to everything, except for his cooking that is.

In Richter's case it would be hard to find things about the boy he wasn't addicted to. His past annoyance about Emil's innocence was now like a forbidden fruit, waiting to be picked, to be touched. And how couldn't he? When Emil would give him a pleading look. When his fingers would fumble with the buttons of Richter's shirt. When a red color would be gracing his features. So he complied to their desires. He'd touch the boy, kiss his lips with either a surprising gentleness or with bruising force. He complied to any desire either of them wanted to be complied. Screw the booze, Emil was everything and more. The way the boy's back would lift itself off the bed, the way that the boy seemed to forget his shyness and wrap his arms around his neck, or how their bodies seemed to melt together at those moments of pure bliss. The way his eyes would widen, the way that blush would creep on his face before their bodies would connect. The way the boy's mouth would fall open and sounds would escape those small lips.

Oh how he loved those sounds.

The stutters, the giggles, the moans and pleads, the whimpers at a loss of contact, the way his name was breathed from those lips as he touched the boy's frame. The expressions that went along with those sounds and the way his eyes would reflect every feeling, from pain to pleasure, though he did not like to see the expression of pain or sadness on Emil's face. But everything else, every cell in his body was craving for Emil. Both mind and body.

Both of them were utterly addicted. And neither of them planned on any form of rehab.


Damnit, shortness again. BUT! better a good short one that a longer, terrible one. I hope I did an okay job; I think I did, even though I over used 'The way'' :D I love the forbidden fruit thing myself, though I have no idea which part of my mind came up with it. But I'm not complaining, considering the scene's and images that run through my mind.


I feel like such a pervert now.