Authors Note: This story now contains sensual content.

Storm Clouds
Co-Author: Zorra Reed & GunpowderBlue
Proofread: W.C.

Chapter Three

Ryo rolled over and moaned as the doorbell echoed through the house pulling the teen from his restless slumber. Rolling out of bed he groggily made his way to the stairs, fervently praying it was a Sales Representative. That way, he wouldn't feel bad about the impending verbal thrashing he was about to let loose on them for daring to interrupt his rest. He was stopped on the stairs mid-step, his hazed mind struggling to make sense of the strange occurrences surrounding his life suddenly when Fayt cut across his path and beat him to the door.

"Hey Rowen...geez, you look like Hell warmed over…problems with your Dad again?" Apparently, the red-head was acquaintances with whoever stood at the door. Moving aside Fayt beckoned the visitor to enter out of the rain.

"Just the usual," the visitor replied, his accent catching Ryo's attention.

'It couldn't be….could it…the kid from this morning?' Already resigned to having his self-proclaimed cousin living under his roof for the next day or so, Ryo accepted the fact that another bizarre person was going to impose and there was little he could do about it. Still, the intrusion made him furious and he stalked down the stairs. Without a word, he pushed against Rowen until the boy was forced to step backwards, out the door. Turning to grab the arm of the red-head, Ryo hauled him outside too, then stepped back inside and closed and locked the front door. Dusting his hands off in satisfaction, he smiled and made his way back to his room to resume his nap.

"Not very friendly is he?" Rowen deadpanned as he shivered on the porch.

"No, and he's becoming a serious pain in the ass!" Fayt punctuated the words through clenched teeth as he extracted the key from his jeans pocket to unlock the door and let the two of them back inside. Shutting the door hard enough for the grumpy teen upstairs to hear he called out in a boisterous voice. "Honey, I'm home!"

A door opened upstairs a moment later; then was slammed shut multiple times in response.

Rowen wrapped his arms about his waist as he chuckled at his best friend's expression. Fayt smiled and rolled his eyes. "I was going to say 'keep it down because my cousin's upstairs sleeping', but that's a mute point now. Alright then…" he sighed, the two of them entering the kitchen. Finding two lush hand towels in the drawer by the fridge, he tossed one to Rowen to dry off with and scrubbed at his hair with the other. "You brought the stuff?"

"I did," Rowen shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and let it drop into a nearby chair. Unzipping the lower front pocket, he withdrew a dark box and turned it over to examine the instructions on the back. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely, let's get started." Fayt pulled out the chair closest to him and straddled it; the towels, bowls and other supplies that Rowen would need already organized on the table top.

"Alright," Rowen agreed reluctantly, but already a mischievous grin was spreading across his lips. "Now stay still, I wouldn't want to get the bleach in your eyes."


"So…." The minutes had stretched by in silence as Rowen coated Fayt's hair in the foul-smelling bleach. It had taken Fayt just as long to venture up the courage to broach a delicate topic of conversation he knew would displease Rowen. "That new guy at school…Cye Mouri...what's he like?"

The question caught Rowen somewhat off guard, something in his eyes darkening. "Why ask me?"

"I'm told he's your that means you have classes with him, right?"

"I have classes with you too." Rowen evaded the question with one of his own, "what'd you care?"

"We're both in advanced classes Rowen; of course we share some together." Fayt parried, voice agitated but focused on his query. "Just tell me what you know about him. I hear he's from England. Aren't you just the least bit interested yourself?"

"Not really," Rowen said lightly. "And no, he's not from England, he's from here, he only spent the last two years in England as a transfer student. Now, stop blushing, I can feel the heat from here. Mouri-san ain't like that, so you can put that thought out of your head, right now."

"And what's that suppose to mean?" Fayt took the defensive. "Just because I ask about a guy…you all of a sudden decide that I want to screw him? Thanks for the bode of confidence." It was a ploy and he knew it, and given by the sudden yank on his hair, apparently Rowen did too.

"It's the way you asked," Rowen pointed out, lathering the bleach into his buddy's hair with more force then necessary. "Don't you think I have better things to do with my time then help you chase after some younger pretty-boy who's accent has your 'boys' all pinched. If you've got an itch find someone else to handle it. Hell, get your cousin to do you, that'd be a sight."

"Don't be sick, Rowen!" Fayt snapped heatedly. Twisting about suddenly, Fayt snared his friend by the wrists, holding him fast as their eyes met with a clashing ire. For a moment, they engaged each other in a silent power-play, each determined to win. Then Fayt suddenly calmed, a nasty smirk playing over his previously pressed lips with a sickly sweetness. "Ryo's far better suited for you."

"WHAT?" Rowen's eyes widened as he tugged free of Fayt's hold, his confusion melting into revulsion. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not in the least." Fayt begun, "just think about it: you're both stubborn, you both have a fiery temper when angered, and you're both just so damn obnoxious. He's the perfect match for you. Why, the fight for dominance alone would be-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Rowen hissed, gripping Fayt's head and forcibly twisting it back around; the teen's body moving with the moment until he was properly seated in his chair again. "People don't realize just how much of a twisted bastard you are."

"You mean...we are," Fayt corrected sternly. "You're no angel."

"Whatever," Rowen growled bringing the conversation to an end. He continued on with his work, Fayt's words twisting their way inside him as they searched out and exploited the darker nature hidden inside the teenager. It was true, Rowen was no fact, if his father ever learned of some of the things Rowen had done, he was sure to brand the child as a Demon Spawn and be done with him. Deciding it was best to lighten the mood before more harm was done Rowen gave a silent sigh to dismiss his melancholy thoughts and ran his fingers through Fayt's hair a final time. "You're parents are going to kill you when they learn what you've done to your hair."

"I don't see how that's your problem. Am I done?" The stuff weighted his head down and he was sure that he looked like a bad version of Al Pacino in "Sacrifice".

"Yeah," Rowen muttered, pulling the plastic gloves from his hands. "You're done. Go rinse."

Fayt hesitated. "So, what if I want to get to know Cye a little better…even as a friend."

"You're still on about that?" Rowen couldn't believe it. Fayt was persistent. "He doesn't need friends like you and me. That guys a good kid. He deserves better."

"Perhaps," Fayt agreed his voice indicating there was more to follow. "Imagine, though, what it'd be like to hold him in your arms, pinned between us with fingers reaching as he squirms from an unquenched desire. His body overloaded with sensation as we stroke his soft, freckled flesh into weeping hardness. He'd beg us for release and we'd give it to him. Rough...deep...lustful…release."

"He'd never consent," Rowen heard himself whisper around a lump in his throat. He shifted uneasily, his jeans tightening around his groin as he listened to Fayt's words; the images the other was setting into his mind not the first of their kind regarding the new student.

Fayt twisted in his chair again with a pleased grunt at hearing the thickness in Rowen's voice. He eyed his friend up and down slowly; Rowen's softly panting lips flushed and ripe for the taking. Parting his own lips with a lash of his tongue, Fayt was pleased to see Rowen's hips shift forward in wanting (the motion uncontrolled) bringing a deeper flush of embarrassment to Rowen's already colored cheeks.

"Rowen." Fayt spoke the others name deliberately as he stood; Rowen's eyes tracking his movement before fluttering shut in a moment of weakness as his lips were grazed by Fayt's own.

Fingers closed on Rowen's hips and slid down the sensitized youth's thighs. Fayt's thumbs tracing the natural V between his legs. Lips brushed against the fluttering pulse in his throat. Rowen felt faint: adrenalin surging through his body, sensation leaving him paralyzed in his place, lust bulging against the material of his pants. He was helpless, reduced to indulging the daydream of Cye folded between his legs; his soft lips dancing over the firmness of Rowen's manhood.

Warm...soft...moist lips...teasing...sucking...nipping. Rowen gave a start, lips parting with a cry as he realized his fantasy was warping into the bleached head of his best friend, perched on the edge of the kitchen chair with his face firmly tucked against Rowen's abdomen. Fingers pressed into the tender flesh of his uncovered buttocks...and Oh God...lips pulling with ferocity at the caught flesh exposed between them.

"Oh God...Oh God..." Rowen gasped for air, his fingers folding over Faty's shoulder with intent but failing to push the other away. "Oh God..." he felt the surge of need in his belly, the ache in his balls as they swelled with his juices.

Fayt sucked his lips over the risen flesh as he debarred the meat from his mouth, his tongue swiping over the slick shaft in parting. It bounce and bobbed freely in the cool air between them, stirred only by the heated breath passing so closely over it before being showered from tip to base in a delicate splay of feathery kisses. "Then we don't ask his permission."

Fayt's words were sobering, drawing Rowen to the surface of his awareness and slamming into him with a heavy dose of reality. Then, Fayt's mouth was around his heavy sacs and Rowen's senses were scrambled once again; all concerns over the wrongness Fayt plotted for them gone in an explosion of milky heat down the elders constricting throat.


Hair bleached and color settling; Rowen pulled the stained latex gloves from his hands and shoved them back into their box along with the extra solution and empty supply bottles. Swabbing at the drips leaking from beneath the plastic cap Fayt wore with a paper towel, he adjusted the towel around the teens shoulders before proceeding to clean the area of evidence. "All finished...Blondie," he snickered a few minutes later. "Go rinse."

"It had better not be blond! I told you way in hell am I going to sit through school and have to look like Mr. 'Head of the Student Body' Date, I swear that guy sat on a stick or something and it grew into a redwood."

"No, no," Rowen smirked, bringing his arms up defensively. "Not blond," and it wasn't, he'd used Strawberry Blond.

"I swear Rowen...if this is one of your stupid pranks…"

"I ain't prank'n," Rowen muttered, quickly crossing the room to retrieve a soda from the fridge. In truth, he just wanted to be safely out of arms reach and Fayt knew it. "Now go rinse before it sits to long."

Fayt sighed with foreboding and padded his way upstairs barefoot, past his cousin's closed bedroom door, and into the restroom to put his head in the bath and rinse all the excess dye from his hair.

Rowen took the opportunity to order two large pizza's on his friends tab, his stomach growling with demand. He'd not eaten since the night before and was tempted to make it three pizza's but with rising prices he wasn't sure Fayt had enough to cover so many. 'It'd serve him right having to pay for three.' Rowen thought bitterly, his mood boarding on vindictive. 'Why the hell did I let him touch me like that again? And to use Cye against me like that just to satisfy his kink!' It was bad enough that Rowen had a secret crush on the new student, one he wasn't willing to reveal to his lustful friend, but to find out that Fayt was already staking out what should have been his territory, was unforgivable.

"Fayt you bastard! I know you have a thing for younger teens, but do you always have to take from the innocent ones?"


Thirty minutes passed before Fayt made an appearance downstairs again, hair mostly dry and sporting a vibrant blue. "You were making me wonder."

Rowen leaned back against the counter as he examined his handy work, for all appearances the incident between the two of them having never have happened. "Why in God's name you'd want to look like me is beyond my reckoning. I swear, if people start talk'n like we're a couple or something, I really am gonna make you look like Date-sama." He crushed the empty soda can in his hand to emphasize his point. "Pizza should be here any minute. Hope you've got enough."

"What pizza?"

Just then the bell rang. "Opps, there they are now." Rowen pushed himself away from the counter and tapped Fayt on the shoulder as he passed, leaving the kitchen to rest in the living room. He'd already set out the plates and drinks on the coffee table in preparation. "Oh, and don't forget to give a large tip, they did come all this way in the storm."

"Dammit Rowen!"