-Miss Tev-So..I know I have two other stories sitting around in the no-man's-land of the ole' noodle...hopefully my writer's block is gone now. =D This is the first Yaoi themed fic I've ever done, so please be gentle. ^^

Disclaimer-I don't own Beyblade.

Five Minutes

3:18 p.m.

I've been home fifteen minutes.

"Oh god, Tala!"

Our muscles locked. His back arched into me and his arms wound their way around my neck, pulling me close. We rode out the waves of pleasure from the third go-round of the day. My fingers were clenching handfuls of sweaty blue sheets on either side of his head. The rest of the useless bed fixings had been thrown away at 3:09. Neither of us were ones for modesty, and pillows got in the way.

3:19 P.M.

He collapsed back into the bed, breathing hard. I grinned through my own gasping breaths, watching him try and collect himself.

Laying there beneath me, all mussed hair and sweat and afterglow glimmering over spent muscles, he was beautiful. One arm was carelessly splayed over his chest, and the other was wildly thrown over his head to rest against the headboard. I couldn't help but admire the way his perfectly sculpted chest heaved up to me as if the very gravity of our bodies was pulling us together. My name really did sound spectacular pouring out of his mouth like that. Not that I cared, but any other name would've sounded weird. I considered telling him, actually. With any luck it might stir him up for another round, which I was already craving.

Those same lips were parted, just waiting to be tasted, delicate petals meant for no others but me; I did not share. A better lay didn't exist than the two of us together, and I've had more than one person, guys and gals, offer. He must have too, I'd imagine, but it sure as hell didn't seem like he was bored enough with me yet.

I could already feel the buzzing high of my own lust rising, was about to claim him again. I couldn't wait, could barely contain myself.

Until he said something that forced everything to a gut screaming halt.

It was just a whisper, almost dismissible, but when I understood it, it shook me down to my core. It made my arms crumble and I laid myself down on his chest just so I wouldn't knock the wind out of him and really ruin everything. It forced a tidal wave of strange new sensations over my body. It made me actually stop and look him in the eye for the first time since I'd come home that day.

"I love you."

3:20 p.m.

Something inside my abdomen stiffened, and every object in the room, from the half burnt out light overhead to the side table with an old glass of water and a dog-eared novel sitting on it, drew sharply, painfully, into focus. This was our bedroom. If one walked into the closet, they'd see a mix of both our clothes hanging inside. Through the door was the hallway which led to the rest of our apartment, which we both paid rent on. We lived here, together, like couples do…but…Love?

What bothered me was not that he said it at all. It's not like it was the first tome. Just that morning actually, before we parted ways for part time jobs, he'd kissed my cheek and told me those same words, "I love you," before leaving. I even said the same thing back , and turned on my way like always. He said it at least once a day, and I always agreed just to keep him happy. In the past, though, it had always been in that arbitrary couple mannerism. It was just something that we had to do. I'd just thought he said it for his friends, because for some reason none of them could believe he was in a relationship with another human being and had to be constantly reminded of it whenever we were visiting at the same time.

No..what bothered me were not the words themselves, but how he'd said them. They terrified my for the simple fact that he meant them. I could see the truth smoldering beneath the haze that sex always left in his eyes.

He meant them in a way that I didn't…and probably never would.

All my life, even as a youth 'bouncing on my father's knee', I've been independent. My aunts and uncles used to say that I wanted to live on my own just as soon I could walk, talk, eat, and piss by myself. And it was true, for the most part. I never got on with my parents or my siblings. Never really wanted to have anything to do with friends, social networks, or any kind of the pathetic dependency whoring functions concerning them. My time spent at the Balcov Abbey only reinforced the independent spirit that I'd begun cultivating long before that. The Blitzkrieg Boys provided all of the companionship that I needed, and even their stone-faced, three word sentence, less emotion-than-a-grey-rock-sitting-on-a-grey-stool-in-a-grey-room sort of habits were almost more than I could stomach. I was, and still am, perfectly happy living life alone.

Before him, I had no one to answer to or plan my day's activities around. Even with him, I didn't really hold back doing what I wanted to do whenever the hell I wanted to do it, but my insatiable need to fuck him several times a day wasn't really something I could take care of without his permission. That's why those words scared me, or at the very least…surprised me.

Because he loved me on a level that transcended way beyond sweaty sheets and a hard-on like you wouldn't believe. He didn't want me to please him, but to complete him. Not to satisfy those late night urges, but to sooth away late night terrors. Not to screw, but to make love to in the knowledge that we would somehow defy the very obvious writing on the wall and be together forever.

And I hated it.

I hated the idea of needing someone there to help me through life, and I detested the thought of someone else forcing that burden back on me. In fact, it was a personal goal to be as cold to the outside world as possible to keep firm distances and never allow burnable bridges to even be built.

Until he came along…He threw a monkey wrench into my entire, flawless, operation. He somehow managed to slither past my impenetrable barriers and tie a choking tether around my "heart." He was the undeniable, unfathomable exception to the one rule in my life that I had, before this point, followed absolutely. Kai. Needs. Me.

I paused my mental tirade for a moment just to feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. Kai's skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat, and he smelled abso-fucking-lutely amazing. I felt one of his hands start to wrap around my shoulders, which was too sentimental a gesture for my tastes, so I sat up and looked down at him. Carefully I kept my expression schooled into a lethargic mask, just smiling down at him and leaning in to steal a tiny, searing kiss from his lips.

I ran my fingers through his hair. God it was so soft. One gentle touch and I was ready to throw away all of my hate and anger at those words and drown it all in his body like we BOTH wanted me to.

3:21 p.m.

That's when I'd realized it.

I'm too addicted to his body to push his love away.

It took me a while to figure it out, I'll admit, but the truth was, quite literally, staring me in the face. What started out as a series of "one-night-stands" had quickly become an event, later a habit, and now, a hopeless obsession. I wasn't lying when I said there wasn't anyone better than Kai. I'd sampled others, lots of others, and found them to be mediocre at best. Where Kai burned with a fiery passion so fierce that it almost hurt to touch him, other's could only flicker. Where they glowed tantalizingly in their own skin, just simmering below the surface, he radiantly shined with an inner vigor so magnetic it drew me in like a willing moth every single time. He was the only one who could challenge me, and the only one who interested me enough to keep coming back for more.

For that kind of sex, I could pretend to love him like he wanted me to.

Most would've seen that as a pathetically weak reason to keep stringing him along like this, and they'd be right, but I honestly didn't give a shit. Kai obviously didn't seem to mind, misplaced as his thoughts were, and was only all too willing to return my attention with that sensuous ferocity all his own. If he couldn't read me enough to know that I didn't ever mean when I repeated those three horrible words back to him, it was his own fault. I refused to feel guilty if he couldn't, or wouldn't, see the truth.

So I smiled down at him.

I leaned down once more, running my hand over his hip, thigh, and wrapped it around his knee in poise. I could feel the tingles underneath my fingers.

Kai's eyes slipped shut and a delicious mewl of pleasure echoed through our bedroom.

My lips were right next to his ear.

It would be terrible. It would be weak. I will never be able to take it back unscathed. I will never find another one like him anywhere in the world.

My voice is low and soft, baiting him to believe the words that almost caught like a fish hook on my tongue.

I. Don't. Care.

3:22 p.m.

"I love you too, Kai."

End.

Until next time, my duckies.