Rating: M [slash]

Pairings: MasakixKichijouji, a.k.a. Ichijou/Cardinal George

Disclaimer: "The Irregular at Magic High School" is the property of Satou Tsutomu. The fanfic author is not making any money from this story.

Author's Note: Although the English anime subtitles call Kichijouji Shinkurou "George," I'll be using "Kichijouji," like the light novel. In Japanese, Masaki calls him "Jouji," so I will have Masaki do that in my stories, too. Obviously, "Jouji" is a nickname from Kichijouji, but "Jouji" is also the Japanese version of "George." (Satou is being clever.)

When Kichijouji awakened, he didn't realize where he was at first. He found himself staring at a pale beige ceiling. The window beside him emitted the soft crimson glow of a sunset. He felt fuzzy, and his chest ached. He had a mild headache.

Then he recalled his last memory: yellow-gold lightning slamming through him and hurling him into the ground. The sheer force of the memory was enough to draw a soft groan from his lips. I'm in the hospital. That nearby one they mentioned.

The realization hit him with a sharp pulse of worry. Hospital. Masaki! He jerked, but a sharp pain lanced through his chest, making him gasp and fall still. The memory of Masaki dropping to his knees and then falling to the ground fired through Kichijouji with a pain far more intense than the ache in his chest. It wasn't just that Masaki lost—which was stunning in and of itself—it was that Masaki had been hurt.

He glanced around and found the hospital curtains partitioning off the space. It was likely a ward of four or six beds. To find Masaki, he had to sit up. He had to get up. He had to walk. It didn't matter that he himself was hurt. He had to move.

Masaki lay on his back in his hospital bed and stared at the ceiling, his arms at his sides, his body unmoving. He wasn't even tempted to move. He listened to the ringing and rushing in his ears and mentally replayed the last moments of the battle against Tatsuya. He watched Kichijouji nod his thanks and resume running toward the other team's monolith, and then he turned and saw Tatsuya sprinting at him. He fired his gun…watched Tatsuya try to dodge the overpowered spell…What have I done? he'd thought. I've killed him. He'd panicked.

The pain of Tatsuya's attack—the ten seconds of excruciating agony and the blood running out of his ears—was actually nothing next to the previous moment of sheer certainty that he'd killed a student.

Masaki closed his eyes. And then I lost. How can I face the other students and my parents?

Kichijouji slowly sat up. For the first moment, he couldn't breathe at all. Then he forced himself to inhale. It was shallow, but it eased the pain. He tried again, then again, until his lung capacity was back to normal. A nurse clearly used healing magic to ease my injuries, but I guess the doctor hasn't come yet.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He found he was wearing a typical white hospital robe. A pair of generic white house shoes awaited him. He slipped his feet into them as he stood. For a split instant, he was dizzy, but he found his balance. He eased across the floor, moving with a painful, slow gait, and pulled the curtain aside. He stepped out and found that the curtains across from him were open. One bed had messed up sheets. Someone's been released. Masaki?

He didn't allow himself to assume that, although the idea left him cold. If Masaki had been released already, it would take him longer to reach him. Kichijouji took a deep breath, hoping it was their third teammate instead. He'd heard the other boy yell in pain right before he'd lost consciousness. No one had to tell him that First High had won the match. Even though he couldn't remember the end of the fight, he knew it had to be true.

Kichijouji turned toward the bed beside his. The curtain around it was closed. Be Masaki. But don't be horribly injured. He reached out, his fingers trembling from the rudeness of peeking through a curtain. He paused one inch shy, then forced himself to follow through with it. A quick glance inside revealed a mop of auburn hair. "Masaki!" He wanted to dash inside, but it was just impossible. He slipped through the curtain and hobbled over to the bedside. "Masaki?"

The flicker of movement made Masaki turn his head, and he saw Kichijouji slip through the curtain and limp to his side. Pain and longing, relief and humiliation tumbled through him. He reached out his hand and closed it around Kichijouji's wrist. Gently, he sat Kichijouji down on the bed, shifting his legs to create room. "Talk facing me and I'll read your lips." He couldn't hear himself, but he was virtually certain he was speaking in a whisper. His throat was dry. "The nurses attended you first. I'm glad."

Kichijouji felt a burning sensation in his eyes. The truth was that his right ear was still ringing from the amplified snap that Tatsuya had used. He figured he'd be back to normal in the morning—with or without a healer's help—but finding out Masaki was still deaf made his chest ache once more. He found himself laying his hand over Masaki's fingers where he still held his wrist. "Masaki . . . Do you need water?" It wasn't really what he wanted to say. Or do. He wanted to hold Masaki, and be held by Masaki, but even as close as their friendship was, he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth of his feelings.

Masaki's eyes flickered involuntarily at the unexpected response, and he felt a wave of aching tenderness relax his body and soften his expression. "Jouji. You always think of me first." Even if you're hurt worse.

Heat collected in Kichijouji's cheeks. He could feel it. But the sight of Masaki's pain made his chest keep aching. "You're hurt," he said simply. And I love you. He didn't want to let go of Masaki's hand, but the hoarse whispering was getting to him. He stood and went to the cart at the foot of the bed. A small pitcher of water and a cup sat on the tray. He poured a cup and then settled back into the spot he'd occupied. If only I could hug you. If only you could hug me. Even with all the pain he was in, he felt the blush burn his cheeks again. He held out the cup, making sure Masaki could read his lips. "Here. Maybe this will help."

Masaki smiled and sat up. He took the cup of water and sipped it until his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. "Thank you." He looked deeply into Kichijouji's crimson eyes. You're so beautiful. He'd always seen Kichijouji as attractive, and he'd been aware for a year now that his feelings for Kichijouji had turned sexual. But since he'd known from age five that he was expected to marry a girl from the Ten Master Clans and produce a decent number of powerful heirs, he'd never let himself dwell on his desires.

Now, after having been on a mock battlefield with Kichijouji and seen him nearly get slammed in the head, Masaki realized he was just needlessly punishing Kichijouji and himself. If they'd been on a real battlefield, they would have both been killed.

Enough of this, Masaki thought. He set aside his cup and shifted so that he sat with his legs apart in a 'V'. He patted the space he made. There weren't many other ways to sit close, but he also knew it was time to make a move. He didn't want to wait any longer.

At Masaki's gesture, Kichijouji felt a flash of burning heat race through his body. It was so strong it made him stir. He wants me to . . . sit between his legs? Kichijouji had the passing fancy that he could faint. He knew his blush had to have infused his entire face, and he couldn't even speak. He climbed into the space Masaki had made and perched there. He was filled with so much nervous anticipation he didn't get any farther, leaving Masaki to position him however he wanted him.

Masaki wrapped both arms around Kichijouji's waist and leaned forward, curling against the curve of Kichijouji's back. He knew he couldn't read Kichijouji's lips this way, but for the moment that wasn't important. "I'm sorry I wasted your beautiful strategy," he whispered into Kichijouji's ear. "You did all you could to help us win. I don't want you blaming yourself." He brushed his lips against Kichijouji's temple. The way Kichijouji fit into his arms felt so right he never wanted to let go. He didn't even care if any of the hospital staff walked in on them.

Kichijouji was instantly overwhelmed with arousal. He felt himself grow achingly hard. The way Masaki had whispered into his ear and kissed his temple made his lips part in a soundless gasp, and all the breath whooshed out of him so hard he had to lightly pant to get it back. The way Masaki's chest was pressed against his back, the way Masaki's arms were circling his waist . . . It was all Kichijouji could do not to squirm with the level of arousal pounding through him. He found himself collapsing back against Masaki's chest, the back of his head coming to rest on Masaki's shoulder. He leaned his forehead against Masaki's chin. "You didn't waste anything," he said, even though Masaki couldn't hear him. "It's not your fault." He reached out with trembling fingers and ran his hands over Masaki's arms. Oh god! He's holding me. It's not my imagination. I really am . . . that kind of special to him.

Kichijouji's body language told Masaki everything he needed to know. He tightened his arms around Kichijouji and pressed kisses to his hair. He swallowed, and he felt himself quivering. "I'm sorry I can't ever say what I really need to say. I don't know what's wrong with me." He did, really. He was afraid to speak such vitally important words and have them fall on barren soil, unaccepted—most especially with the weight of his duties resting on his shoulders. "I do – I want us –" He clung to Kichijouji tightly, and at that, he felt himself harden. His head swam. "It's my fault that I was defeated. I lost because I couldn't stop looking at you. I had to make sure you were safe." Relief rushed through him at getting that off his chest.

Kichijouji felt the way his eyes widened. The shock reverberated through him—both from the words and from the way he felt Masaki harden against him. Looking at me? He thought back to that moment—the moment that Masaki had fired upon the boy attacking him. Kichijouji had thought for certain he would be knocked out of the competition. In fact, he had been dead certain he was going to be knocked out cold and spend a day in critical condition. There was no way to dodge. And then Masaki had shot the boy, and they'd looked at each other, and Masaki had smiled That Smile . . .

Kichijouji shifted because he had to. He had to face Masaki, he had to get hold of Masaki, he had to have Masaki read his lips. He squirmed until he was sitting across Masaki's lap, basically. He ended up with one of Masaki's legs behind him and with his legs draped over Masaki's other leg. He stared up at Masaki and grasped a handful of his white robe. As soon as Masaki met his gaze, he spoke. "No. It was more complicated than that. But even if it were true, then it means more to me that you love me than that we take first place!"

Heat cracked across Masaki's face. "I – but you –" He gave up on speaking and just pressed his lips against Kichijouji's and closed his eyes. The pressing was the only kind of kissing that he knew, but he was desperate to communicate. Kichijouji had said the word he couldn't seem to. He didn't know why he suffered horrid embarrassment every time he tried to say 'love', but now Kichijouji had said it first.

Masaki's arms shifted, and he found himself distressingly aroused. In the hospital. It would be different if we were at my home. He pressed their bodies together still tighter. I love you. Life felt dizzying all of a sudden.

At the feeling of Masaki's lips against his own, Kichijouji couldn't hold back a moan. He gripped the handful of robe harder. Masaki . . . He ran his other arm around Masaki's waist and clung. At first, he couldn't quite figure out what to do other than press. Then he scrambled through his memories, searching through things he'd heard of, until he knew what to do. He mouthed Masaki's lips gently. He pressed up against Masaki's chest, and the way Masaki's arms were wrapped around him made him even more aroused.

Masaki knew he let out a noise, but he couldn't hear himself. He let Kichijouji teach him how to kiss. The kissing soon assumed the rhythm of the way his clothed erection throbbed. He could feel himself shaking and gasped for air. They pulled their heads back for a moment. He stared into Kichijouji's eyes, panting. "I'm afraid that if I admit my feelings, something bad will happen."

The sound of Masaki's moaning and panting had left Kichijouji's body thrumming. He met Masaki's gaze. "Masaki . . ." He wasn't sure what to say to the fear. He reached up and caressed Masaki's cheek. "Nothing bad will happen with me." He thought about Masaki's parents. "We will keep this quiet. We won't let anyone know." He ran his thumb over Masaki's lips. I can protect you, too.

Masaki tightened his arms around Kichijouji anew and kissed Kichijouji passionately, unable to hold back his sheer level of gratitude and relief. He couldn't have borne pointing out that they should keep their true relationship a secret. He could never have asked that. "J-Jouji." He found himself running a hand through Kichijouji's silky hair. He'd always wanted to do that. He mouthed Kichijouji's lips again, then kissed Kichijouji's forehead. He tucked Kichijouji's head under his chin. "I love you." He couldn't have gotten out the words with Kichijouji still looking at him.

Kichijouji found tears burning his eyes. He said it. He loves me. His lips tingled from the passionate kiss, and his forehead tingled as well. The feeling of Masaki's fingers running through his hair had been utterly divine. He was left throbbing and aching from the added stimulation, and he could feel the wet spot on his underwear. But he had no idea what they could do about it, given that they were in a hospital room and could be walked in upon at any time.

He set aside that problem and gently stroked Masaki's chest. "I love you, too," he murmured. Since Masaki couldn't hear him, he used the caresses to send the message. He felt his eyes drift shut as the bliss of being tucked up to Masaki's chest bloomed through him.

Masaki breathed deeply and nestled Kichijouji against him in a slightly different position, bringing Kichijouji even closer, and he stroked his back. I did it. I said it. I can do this. He'd always hated finding something he couldn't figure out how to do. That was one of many reasons why Kichijouji had become his closest friend. Kichijouji always helped him find a way. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

Suddenly, he realized he wasn't dreading facing his parents and classmates anymore. No one's opinion of his performance in the Nine Schools Competition mattered anymore.

Summer break.

Kichijouji had spent the first day, Sunday, washing clothing and sheets in the dorm's laundry room. Thanks to his income from his part-time job at the Kanawaza Magic Research Institute, he could afford a private dorm room. To him, this was heavenly. He had plenty of personal space, plenty of alone time, and plenty of quiet while studying or researching.

That didn't mean he wanted to be all alone all the time, though.

Sunday passed without incident. Considering it was the only day of the week that Mr. Ichijou had off from work, it was the family outing day. Kichijouji was always invited on these outings, just like he was often invited over for supper, but he sometimes turned them down because of his work load.

He wasn't surprised in the slightest when Masaki called him Sunday night and invited him to spend the day on Monday.

Right after breakfast the next morning, Kichijouji headed over to the Ichijou household. It was only a thirty minute walk from Third High, and the day wasn't blazing hot yet. He enjoyed the sunlight and warmth. He'd opted to wear a short-sleeved polo shirt and khaki shorts, so the summer breeze washed over his skin. It was pleasant, but he just wanted to arrive and be with Masaki. It had been two days since they'd been able to hug or touch, and somehow that seemed like an eternity.

As soon as Kichijouji was admitted by the servant, he headed up to Masaki's room. Masaki's mother and two younger sisters were heading out to shop. Masaki and he would essentially have the house to themselves, given there were only two servants. The Ichijou family preferred automation to handle their chores and upkeep.

Kichijouji reached Masaki's bedroom door and knocked softly. "Masaki."

Masaki opened the door quickly, dressed in a loose pink t-shirt and navy blue shorts. He pulled Kichijouji into a hug that drew Kichijouji into the room. "Come in." Then he shut the door and let out a sigh of relief. "I've missed you. I know you needed time to yourself…" He trailed off as he looked into Kichijouji's eyes. Then he blushed and looked away. "Sorry. I still can't believe we really – it really – happened. And Dad wasn't nearly as disappointed in me as I was in myself. About the competition results, I mean."

"We did take second place in the Monolith Code." Kichijouji was plenty competitive to still want first place, but he would just generate a better strategy next year. "And Third High took second place overall." It was a blow to their school pride, granted, but not an ungodly one.

Kichijouji discarded that topic in order to reach up and cup Masaki's cheeks. "I missed you, too." Thanks to the height difference, he had to pull Masaki's head down so he could press a kiss to his lips. Masaki's arms felt wonderful around him. "But now I have everything I want."

Masaki blushed. The words affected him ten times as much as the kiss. Everything? He hugged Kichijouji to him tightly and kissed back. Even shyly mouthing made heat run down his body and gather in his groin. He was fully hard in moments. It was just as embarrassing as last time, but at least they had privacy and maybe a chance for him to figure out how to be less embarrassed at his own desires and how strong they were.

Kichijouji moaned into the kiss, mouthing Masaki's lips with a growing amount of passion. He ran his arms around Masaki's neck, pressing up onto his toes and pulling their bodies flush in the process. In doing so, he discovered that they were both already hard. He felt the blush flash over his cheeks. I have you. I have what I want. We're kissing, and you're holding me, and we love each other . . . and I'm in your room alone . . . Little moans escaped him as the kiss continued.

Masaki lifted Kichijouji up, his hands underneath the backs of his thighs. He held Kichijouji tight and mouthed his lips as slowly and thoroughly as he could stand, panting as he grew more intimately acquainted with the feeling of kissing – hot, soft, wet.

Kichijouji moaned more deeply. Being picked up and held in this position, especially while kissing, felt erotic to him. The way Masaki held him up so easily and clutched him just made him harder. He could feel that wet spot on his underwear again. He ended up sucking on Masaki's lower lip.

Masaki couldn't stand it anymore. He carried Kichijouji over to his bed and plopped them both down, rolling onto his side and holding Kichijouji to him closely. No matter how he tried, no words would come out, so he went back to kissing. His heart pounded and his erection throbbed. I want you to see me. All of me. When Kichijouji was around, Masaki had always worn a towel coming out of the shower. He'd known there was a line they couldn't cross without wading into the deep end, confronting their feelings, and trying to do something about those feelings. He hadn't been ready to do that.

Masaki didn't know if he was any more ready to be seen fully naked, but he was closer. Soon.

Due to their previous position, Kichijouji ended up with one leg flung over Masaki's leg and one arm looped around his waist. Kichijouji had spent a large amount of the previous day researching sex. Considering he was spending the day doing laundry, he saw no reason not to eat up time by learning what he needed to know. After several hours of embarrassment, confusion, illumination, and arousal, Kichijouji was armed with the information he needed.

Now that he was lying in Masaki's bed, in Masaki's arms, Kichijouji put the information to good use. He teased Masaki's lips apart and then slipped his tongue into his mouth. As soon as the heat of the deeper kiss registered on him, he moaned, the sound more full and aching.

Masaki let out a sharp whimper and clung to Kichijouji more tightly at the intense feeling of their tongues caressing. A shiver ran down his back. I should have known Jouji would find out in advance everything we need to know. He felt enormously comforted. He massaged Kichijouji's back while they kissed, and then slipped his tongue into Kichijouji's mouth in return. He moaned deeply at the sensation. He realized Kichijouji had a faint, sweet taste. It was intoxicating.

The feeling of Masaki's tongue slipping into his mouth and caressing drew deep moans from Kichijouji. The concept that he was lying on Masaki's bed with Masaki kissing him so thoroughly hit him all over again, making his erection twitch. He shifted, pulling Masaki halfway on top of him and gently sucking on his tongue. Protect me. Protect me forever. I'm going to go everywhere you go.

Masaki moaned hard enough to make his chest vibrate. He felt the wet spot on his underwear growing. His hands went to Kichijouji's hair, cupping Kichijouji's head and stroking. Powerful feelings of protectiveness and tenderness flooded through him. As soon as he had his tongue back, he kissed Kichijouji's forehead. "I'm not – not – going to let anything happen to you."

At this declaration, Kichijouji felt heat burning his cheeks. "And I will always be by your side." Once again, Masaki was caressing his hair, and once again, it felt divine. He ran his hand up and down Masaki's spine, trying to work up the nerve to slip his hand up under the shirt.

"Always?" Masaki asked. I don't want to be alone—alone with myself and my memories. With the knowledge of just what it is that I can do.

"For all my life." Kichijouji leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Masaki's lips. His fingers found a patch of skin at Masaki's waist, and he paused. Then he caved in, running his hand under the cotton and caressing over Masaki's bare skin.

Masaki shivered, and then his whole body flared twice as hot. He shucked his shirt off and tossed it aside. Then he felt a wave of embarrassment again. He buried his face against the side of Kichijouji's neck and found that to be arousing. He kissed gently.

Kichijouji let out a soft moan, discovering that his neck was sensitive. The skin tingled, and goosebumps ran down his arm. And seeing Masaki yank off his shirt had been a powerful moment even before the kiss to his neck.

Masaki's erection ached at the sound of that moan. "I fight for you," he confessed suddenly. "When we met I'd been wondering what I really fought for. My father? My country? My patriotic duty? There was so much gore and death I was going numb. Then I saw you, and I knew why I could keep doing this: I would fight to keep you safe."

The confession sucked the air from Kichijouji's lungs. He could never forget even one minute of that day. All around him, Kichijouji had heard screaming and weapons firing and the unmistakable sound of magic activating. Everyone was dying.

He remembered with stunning clarity the tall, overly-tanned man and the pale-skinned boy who had rescued him. Kichijouji had been mute with trauma, and the other boy had worn black armor and had been covered in blood. But the boy had smiled, and his eyes had been kind. The boy had taken Kichijouji's hand and led him to safety.

To know that in that moment Masaki had decided that he was fighting to save Kichijouji's life rearranged the very foundation of Kichijouji's world.

A sharp whimper emerged—the only warning Masaki got. Then Kichijouji grabbed Masaki, pulling him fully on top of him, and kissed him with breathless passion, his hands gripping Masaki's bare shoulder blades.

Masaki gasped and met the kiss, too stunned for an instant to kiss back. Then he met Kichijouji's lips with his and stroked Kichijouji's hair. He'd held onto his revelation for three years, afraid to scare Kichijouji away with the intensity of his feelings, afraid that Kichijouji would think he doubted Kichijouji's ability to fight for himself, afraid that his sudden decision, without even really knowing Kichijouji, was insulting somehow. Now he didn't have to be afraid anymore. Kichijouji knew, and the response was loving.

Kichijouji parted his lips for Masaki this time, moaning as his tongue slid into his mouth. His hands stroked over Masaki's back, returning each time to grasp his shoulders. He felt so hot he broke a sweat, and he wished that he, too, had discarded his shirt.

The sudden pull to have bare skin against bare skin proved unbearable. Kichijouji reached down with both hands, tugging his shirt off without breaking the kiss for longer than a few moments.

Masaki sighed with bliss at feeling Kichijouji's bare chest against his. "I love you." It was easier this time. I can say it. I can. He ran his arms under Kichijouji's bare waist and back and tucked their bodies closer together, as close together as he could. Then he went back to the kiss. He could suddenly imagine them as men, as graduates with degrees headed off to a career together, confident in their love for each other and calm about it. They'd get through both high school and college, and nothing would be able to stop them from spending their lives together.

He kissed down Kichijouji's neck and nuzzled it. "I want this to last forever. That's all I want. You."

"Oh, god." Kichijouji wasn't fully sure which part he was reacting to more—the words or the kisses. "Yes." The answer sufficed for both. He tilted his head and bared his neck. He ran one hand up the nape of Masaki's neck and into his soft hair. "That's all I want, too—you."

Masaki relaxed. All the tension fled his body. The gentle hand on his neck and then his hair was half of it, and the other half came from the sweet words. He gently lapped and kissed Kichijouji's neck. The aching and fluttering feelings in his body had slowly turned to burning heat. Somehow, it was more satisfying. His nipples were hard, and his erection felt tight. If he were by himself, he would have reached down and relieved his need, but now he had another person to take care of.

Kichijouji felt his lower back bow upwards off the mattress as Masaki lapped and kissed his neck. The sensation was three times more powerful than the passionate kisses they'd shared. Long, aching moans escaped him. He kneaded the back of Masaki's neck, trying to telegraph how good it felt. He was leaking hard enough to soak through his underwear, and he bent his knees, pressing his inner thighs against Masaki's hips. "Oh—oh god!"

Masaki couldn't possibly stop after that reaction. He'd shyly dreamed of bringing Kichijouji this much pleasure and never thought he would be allowed to try. He moaned and covered Kichijouji's neck with kisses, exploring. Then he retraced his path with his tongue, caressing Kichijouji's hot, damp skin. Suddenly he realized that he was close to coming from sheer excitement. That couldn't even stop him. He was determined to keep Kichijouji swimming in pleasure for as long as possible. Kichijouji's hand on the back of his neck caused echoes of arousal to shockwave through him.

With so much pleasure flooding through him, Kichijouji couldn't remain still. The way Masaki moaned against his skin and kissed and lapped made Kichijouji squirm under him. The squirming caused their erections to rub together through their clothes. The added spike of ecstasy made up Kichijouji's mind for him. He clung to Masaki's shoulder blade with one hand and grasped his neck with his other, his fingers still in his hair. Then he rocked his hips. For a moment, he felt embarrassed by the extremely suggestive nature of it, but the explosion of pleasure wiped the awkwardness away. He cried out over Masaki's shoulder and continued to rub them against each other. The kisses to his neck were a powerful counterpoint.

Masaki cried out and shuddered. He arched his hips, instinctively rubbing against Kichijouji in return. Then he shut his eyes and resumed lapping and kissing Kichijouji's neck. Soft moans escaped him as they rocked against each other. He felt a heavy haze wash over him, as if he were entering a dream.

The way Masaki rocked against him in return made Kichijouji nearly breathless. He ended up clinging to both of Masaki's shoulders, and once he had his breath again, resumed crying out in open passion. The cries started off soft, but then Kichijouji could imagine the future, when they'd both be fully naked and rocking together in a different, deeper way. That added to the pleasure blooming across his neck and through his groin proved to be too much. His lower back arched sharply, and his hips bucked against Masaki's. Then he was coming, his final cry filling the room.

Masaki came the instant he heard Kichijouji's cry. His cries were muffled against Kichijouji's neck. He clung tightly as his body shuddered its way through the strongest orgasm of his life. He felt utterly exhausted and sweaty afterward. To him, the moment was almost painfully important and meaningful: he and Kichijouji had just come together for the first time.

Kichijouji hugged Masaki to him, encouraging him to just collapse on him. And collapse they did. For a moment, there was no sound other than the panting as they caught their breath. Then Kichijouji smiled at Masaki and caressed his cheek. "I love you," he said again. "And I want to be with you this way—for the entire rest of our lives. I don't care what it takes to make that happen."

"I'll do anything," Masaki agreed in a whisper. He found himself gazing at Kichijouji's serene, determined face, and he realized that Kichijouji had given him another revelation about his life. At some point, he was going to have to put down a line between him and his parents and politely refuse to marry a woman. He couldn't justify doing things any other way. He couldn't put Kichijouji through that kind of pain. He would marry Kichijouji, and they would use the latest in genetic technology to produce heirs for the Ichijou Clan. They would catch flak for it, but they would hardly be the first family to carry on their lineage in such a way.

Masaki would make it work.

Committed to his plan, Masaki caressed Kichijouji's cheek in return and rested their foreheads together.

Postscript A/N #1: The idea about gay marriage and genetically engineered babies is my direct sci-fi challenge for this futuristic setting. Why? Because I don't want to write an entire series of fanfics that go "and then there was no hope for Masaki and Kichijouji because WWIII ended the 'age of free sex' (as the series timeline puts it) and caused the loss of sexually progressive human rights movements."

#2: This story might not remain a one-shot. An anonymous reviewer asked me if my first story, "After Yokohama," was really a one-shot. My answer is "I hope not." I really want to add more to both these stories, but I got waylaid by an idea for a third story that is multi-chaptered. Hopefully I can swing back around and add more to these first two stories after that one.