*Dance Central 3 lemonshot. MoCoy.
*Totally random. This was spurred not only by the urge to keep my skills sharp, but spurred on by an anti-gay stamp I found earlier.

*Summary: MacCoy has just joined Dance Central 3, after being absent from Mo's life for far too long.

Warning: INCLUDES M/M AND M/M INTIMACY.

"Thought I'd never see you again, kid."

Those words were butcher knives to the kid's ears. His heart wasn't excluded from a brutal swipe of the knives, either. Putting Mo Brea through any kind of pain was an unspeakable crime, akin to using alchemy for the reincarnation of human life. Hearing the end result of Mo's roller coaster ride, facing the truth from the other side of silence, was an experience that moved body, heart and soul.

The kid had done his worst, wringing every drop of blood from an amber soul. But Mo never cut the thread between their hearts. He held it at every cost, determined, like a child clinging to their only friend.

He held it as a budding flower wrapped its soul around much needed water.

They were an inch apart, facing each other in a hotel room. The windows to the outside world were irrelevant, crushed into nothingness by two racing hearts. Caramel eyes, flooded with liquid memory, pierced baby blue oceans. The blue eyes responded with primal hunger, and a drive to erase past injustice.

Silence slithered through their haven. Memories of restless nights, tragic days and unfulfilled promises erupted, without either one saying a word. MacCoy Romanov gazed at Mo, while the Hi-Def Founder stared at him, wanting to explode in an emotional burst of colors, sights, desires.

"I came back 'cuz I can't ever breathe without ya."

Sacred eyes lowered. "Had a shitty way of gettin' that across, yo."

"I ain't ever bailin' on ya again. I mean it, baby. We're a motha' fuckin' team, 'till death do us part."

A smile blossomed across chocolate skin. "Gotta gimme more than that, kid," the breakdancer urged, his voice coming out as an intoxicating whimper. Coming from a dream, he edged closer to the one he believed to be lost. Blue eyes absorbed the sight, as though they had been enshrouded in darkness far too long.

"Ya sure ya ain't ever leavin' me again, Coy?"

"Damn right I ain't," the blonde toprocker vowed, drawing a symphony of moonlight and clouds into his arms. Liquid heaven melted across his waist and thighs. Hands cupped the back of his head, eyes were cast into black bliss-

"I'm right where I need t' be. Plain 'n simple."

Those were the last words Coy could speak, before azure and diamond white consumed every waking moment. Only the sounds of Mo's lips making contact with his skin fell into his ears, and those sounds were all he knew. They were all he needed.

The blue-eyed deejay encased the other in his arms. No force on Hell or Earth could tear Mo out of his arms: every kiss made that clear. Breathless but aching for more, the reunited dancers caressed, squeezed, kissed while their bodies burned feverishly.

Coy soon tore off his lifelong friend's clothes, his black hat being the last discarded item. Soon both young men were enveloped in each other, bound not only by their arms but by longing. Naked, throbbing forms continued to melt into each other, glowing with white fire.

The Brea was beauty personified, from his hair follicles to his toes. Coy encased the gift from Heaven in stardust, planting tender kisses across face, collarbone, chest and arms. Mo's kisses were ravenous, conveying a desire to swallow the other half of his heart whole.

They only knew each other; the texture, scent and rhythm of the other's body. Coy, no longer able to suppress the need to do so, penetrated his other half, and all Mo knew was the white shade of bliss. While the once-incomplete toprocker filled the Brea's body, heart and soul, blue eyes were consumed by tears. The cries coming from a once-lost treasure were nothing short of beautiful.

An eternity passed between them. Mo, although visibly dissatisfied with being handled so gently, melted into Coy's arms. The Romanov, paying no heed to the Brea's aggravation, brushed chocolate skin with more kisses. Not a single word was shared between them, but sometimes in life-

Words weren't needed. Only a certain beat was needed, for everything to be right.