Want- A Yzak/Dearka Fanfiction
Title: Want
Author: Wallpaper
Summary: "I don't want you." "But I want you." Featuring Yzak and Dearka Slash, coffee, fireworks and snogging. Lots of it.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance
Warning: minor Slash. Spoilers for Gundam Seed Destiny arc.
"...increasing reports of Blue Cosmo's attack has sparked an emergency meeting of the council members of PLANT. Though members declined to be interviewed as they emerged from the meeting room, inside sources have revealed that the council members were deciding on implementing a new strategy that would, "End it all". Concerns were raised about the effectiveness of this new strategy, citing past attempts to end the long-drawn dispute between the Naturals and Coordinators-"
"Bloody idiots," Yzak Jule growled as he stabbed at the red 'off' button of the remote viciously, and then grabbing and glaring at it as if it were the source of all the misery in the entire universe. Deciding that it truly was the source of all the misery in the entire universe, he threw it across the room from the couch he was sprawled across, defiantly reveling in the sounding crash the remote made when it went through the television screen. "Bloody fucking idiots."
The soft sound of disapproval from his left made Yzak swerve his head abruptly in its direction and glare fiercely at Dearka Elthsman, who was similarly spread on the other side of the couch.
"Did you have to go destroy the television for the, oh i don't know, fourth time of the month?" Said person sighed heavily and sank deeper into the couch. "Swearing, i can take, but destroying our only source of entertainment in this cursed ship is not going to help us with our boredom, Yzak. Now we have to be entertainment-less for the next 2 days while they find us a new television." Noting the lack of heated anti-Dearka (or anti-council-members) comments from the silver-haired, coordinator-cum-hot-headed ship-captain, Dearka tilted his head backwards towards his supposed best friend (he wonders why, for a person with such a horrid disposition) and bumped against the side of Yzak's thigh, realizing belatedly that he was lying next to it. He blinked and refocused his vision towards the direction of his face, only to be greeting by the sharp, pointed chin of his captain-cum-best-friend. Frowning at the usually-snotty Yzak's defeated posture, which was truly utterly unlike the highly-bred idiot, Dearka pulled himself into a kneeling position beside him, peering worriedly at the other man's tilted head that was leaning against the back of the couch, and the deep creases between his closed eyes.
"Hey, Yzak," Dearka whispered softly, reaching out to place a hand on Yzak's thankfully cool forehead, "you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired." Yzak sighed, tilted his head towards the direction of Dearka's voice and opening his eyes a fraction with a glare in place. "And get your plebian hand off me. It's positively horrid."
Ignoring Yzak's growl of protest, Dearka moved his hand on Yzak's forehead into the fine silver strands and tugged at it slightly out of pure habit. The intensity of Yzak's glare increased a fraction and Dearka ducked in time to avoid the half-hearted whack that was sent his way.
"Shush, pretty boy. And i know that you love my hands on you," Dearka added, grinning widely when Yzak's pale skin flushed a deep shade of red and a look of immense embarrassment overcame his features.
"Fuck you."
"Oh I'm sorry," Dearka retorted with a glint in his eyes. "I prefer to be the one fucking, thanks."
Yzak flushed even more that Dearka though possible and wiggled his way out of Dearka's hand that was still buried in his hair. Smoothing it down the best he could, he snarled at the blonde and after a second thought, added a well-aimed smack to his head, reveling in the yowl of pain that emitted from Dearka.
"OUCH! What did you do that for, you asshole!" Yzak just smiled at him and fluttered his eyelashes for good measures.
"That was for you being a bastard." Without another word, Yzak turned on his heels and strutted into the kitchen, leaving Dearka rubbing his still-sore head and sullenly listening to the sounds of Yzak making coffee in the kitchen. Minutes later, Yzaks strode out of the kitchen again, tray in hand with two steaming cups of the hot liquid. He set the tray down on the table and turned around, snarling, with Dearka's cup of coffee in hand.
"Say anything stupid again, and the content of this cup goes over your head."
Wisely, Dearka silently accepted the mug and sipped at it as Yzak plopped down next to him in the sofa again. They shared a companionable silence for a few moments, and finally, when Dearka felt that enough was enough, he turned towards Yzak and opened his mouth to say something, but he never did.
He stared, mesmerized, as Yzak absently sipped his coffee and stared pensively into the broken television, silver strands of hair falling into his eyes. Dearka had the sudden urge to reach out and push it away, and when he gave in to the impulse, he reached out and slowly gathered the stray strands in his fingers and gently pushed it behind the other man's ears. When he looked back at Yzak's face, he was startled slightly by the questioning side-glance that Yzak had on him.
"You only told me to not say anything stupid. You didn't say anything about doing." Dearka explained weakly.
To Dearka's surprise, Yzak's lips (Oh. That made Yzak looks really pretty.) curved into a small smile and that slight movement drew Dearka's attention to it.
"You're an idiot, Dearka."
Dearka grinned.
"I know."
Taking both their still-full cups of coffees and placing it gently on the table, Dearka turned back to Yzak and gazed softly into the other man's curious expression. Slowly, he maneuvered his way until he was straddling the other boy's lap and his lips poised above Yzak's, flurried breath mingling and eyes locked into each other's. Yzak's hands found its way onto Dearka's chest, to push or pull the other boy away from him or towards him, he didn't know which.
"Your heart's beating very quickly." Yzak murmured dazedly, gaze flitting down to his own hands, watching as his fingers ran gently across Dearka's chest, tracing the erratic rhythm beneath it. Yzak watched his hands rise and fall slightly with the shallow breaths Deaka was taking, and looked up again to see the other boy watching him with an intense gaze.
Dearka's only reply was a soft hum of agreement before he leaned forward, eyes still on Yzak's, and their lips met in a soft caress.
A heartbeat later, Dearka pulled away and stared downwards, eyes still on Yzak's silver ones. He watched with bated breath as Yzak sighed softly and shifted slightly, reached out with his arms, twining them behind Dearka's neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
This time, Dearka followed Yzak's cue, letting his eyes slide close and bracing himself on Yzak's shoulder.
Both lips touched again and with a moan with what felt like relief (because it felt as if they had been deprived of this) and muted ecstasy, light, soft touches of the lips slowly turned into open-mouthed tasting of each other, biting, sucking, licking and heated moans filled the air along with restless hands running down torsos that seemed too clothed, and shirts were dragged off from skin, and when skin met skin, groans of gratification rang through the static-filled air, and every touch, every kiss, seemed insufficient.
The first time Dearka rocked himself forward onto Yzak, he saw stars as sparks of ecstasy ran through his body. They broke apart of let out a moan of want, and Dearka watched with wonder at Yzak's head thrown back against the couch, face scrunched up in one of intense pleasure. Dearka pressed himself into Yzak again, watching him wriggle under him restlessly, watching the conflicting want to stay under Dearka, and the need to get away because the pleasure was too much. Afraid that Yzak was really going to get away, Dearka tightened his grip on Yzak's shoulders and started to rock forward again and again and again, swallowing Yzak's every moan and gasp of desire with his tounge, savoring the pleasure than ran through his body, the pleasure of his body, hard against Yzak's, the pleasure of having the other man beneath him, the pleasure of seeing the normally expressionless Yzak so loose, so unrestrained under him, because of him, because of Dearka.
Dearka never felt so powerful and alive before.
Yzak moaned out his name (in protest of too much pleasure; begging him never to stop), and Dearka laced his fingers with his, breathing hotly into his ears.
"Yzak. Let go."
And the world exploded into fireworks of colors, with both of them trembling in their release, with Yzak letting go, and Dearka catching him as he fell into the abyss of ecstasy, falling together into oblivion, even if it were just for a few seconds. For those few seconds, nothing mattered. Nothing about the stupid Naturals, nothing about Strike, nothing about anything. It was just them both, together, falling into the unknown, hiding their fears of what was to come (death), but knowing that with the other beside him, it was alright (It had to be).
When the world formed around them again, Dearka slowly opened his eyes, knowing that he no longer saw Yzak, but he saw Yzak. Yzak that was spent, loose, relaxed, open and most importantly, with Dearka.
Through Yzak's hooded lids that stared up at him, Dearka saw nothing but Yzak. All of him.
"I don't want you," Yzak murmured.
At another time, these words would have pierced through his heart like a knife, make his world revolve around him again and settle back into the old one where there was no Yzak but only Yzak, when Dearka was just...Dearka.
"But I want you," Dearka replied, and leaned forward to swallow any other stupid things that Yzak could have said. "Say anymore stupid things, and i'll pour coffee on you too."
Instead of stupid things, though, Dearka swallowed Yzak's laughter and a soft, affectionate murmur of "Idiot" from him.
The world as it was then looked quite nice to Dearka, actually.