Beta: Anna (rainbow-wombats at tumblr) Thank you!
Rating: PG-16
Warnings: none
A/N: This is my OTP for K. It's my first fanfiction of them and also the first fic I wrote forKfandom. I hope the characters aren't too OOC (I solemnly swear to read all manga chapters/novels to understand characters better).
Come closer
"You don't have more information?" The young man sitting in front of Munakata has perfectly expressionless face but the sadness seeps through his voice. "There were some rumours—"
"I personally checked them." Munakata leans back in his chair, piercing his interlocutor with cold gaze. "I am sorry to say that but so far we don't have any information about Isana Yashiro."
Kuroh sighs, sounding almost defeated. He looks more tired than usual, dressed in some oversized clothes which looks like he hasn't changed them for some time, wrinkled, with mud staining cuffs of his shirt. He doesn't even touch the tea Awashima brought him, unlike the other times he visited Munakata to ask for any traces of Shiro.
The first time he came to Munakata, the blue king wasn't surprised. He figured that Kuroh would try to find Shiro no matter what and put aside his wounded pride for the sake of his King, asking for help. In past eight months he visited Munakata's office whole five times, always asking for the same and always receiving the same answer. It's not like Munakata doesn't try to find Shiro, it's just the opposite. Munakata's people checks all the rumours, not leaving out the smallest traces but it's as if Yashiro disappeared from the Earth. Munakata understands that the Colourless King is immortal and he could survive the blast, but it is as If he really died like an ordinary person.
Munakata doesn't have a heart to tell that to Kuroh. Not yet.
Kuroh reaches for the small, clay cup with tea and takes a sip of the hot liquid. Munakata lets his guard down, letting himself indulge in his own pleasure, instead of reading reports about last Green Clan movements, taking in the sight of Kuroh: black fringe framing the pale face, blue eyes flickering with intelligence over the rim of the cup, lean body sitting elegantly on a chair. Kuroh is relaxing as the calming tea slides down his throat, the tension of the fruitless search slowly leaving his body. Even in clothes that are desperately yelling for a change – and, oh, Munakata would most definitely change them, dress Kuroh in the finest materials, soft as clouds, to later take them off, reveal more of that pale skin, kiss every scar on that body – he's looking breathtaking, determination still radiates from him.
It may be this confidence what draws Munakata to Kuroh. Before their fight the teenager knew he was going to lose the battle and yet he stayed, trying desperately to protect what he believed in.
A fool. A brave, golden hearted fool.
It was thrilling, to fight him then. Munakata couldn't help himself, he just had to invade Kuroh's personal space, to closely look into those determined eyes. He would gladly fight Kuroh even now, curious about how much he has grown up as a fighter. The teenager still isn't a match for a King but Munakata could teach him some things. Instructing him new battle techniques for exchange of being close to that determined fire – for him it sounds more than fair.
Kuroh looks at the window, pretending he doesn't notice Munakata's gaze (the King knows he noticed it; there aren't many things the Black Hound misses).
What a magnificent creature.
"It's raining," Kuroh says, standing up and, still holding the cup, he walks towards one of windows. He stops in front of it, his back straight, sipping the tea. He looks at Munakata fleetingly. "It doesn't look like it will stop soon."
So it will be like that this time too, huh?
"It seems so." Munakata loosens his tie, standing up as well. He knows this game well, played it before – every time Kuroh came to his office. He walks towards Kuroh, his moves deliberately slow, observing in the glass of the window how Kuroh is watching him. He stops behind Kuroh, standing so close he can feel the warmth of the other body. "And where is Miss Neko?" He asks, not moving from his spot behind the teenager, not yet.
"She stayed with Kukuri-san. Neko doesn't like rain." Kuroh puts the cup on the window board, turning his face to the right; Munakata can see now his perfect profile, eyes casted down, lips tightening in a line. Wanting to say more, but unable to do so.
Munakata finds that hesitancy sweet.
It's a downside of such proud person as Kuroh. He can ask, with big problems, for help of Munakata, because it will help in his search for his King. But asking for something for himself? No, never. Kuroh's gaze may be hot like lava when he looks at Munakata and his body trembling may be in need when they are close to each other, but he won't ask. Never.
That's good too. It makes the moment when Kuroh breaks and begs even sweeter.
Munakata raises his hand and pulls on hair tie which keeps Kuroh's ponytail. Cascade of black hair falls down like spilled ink; light of lamps shines between strands making Munakata want to run his fingers through it.
("Why did you do that?" Kuroh asked the first time Munakata did it, but he didn't move away.
"It suits you," Munakata whispered against Kuroh's ear as if that explained everything - maybe it did – before kissing Kuroh then, doing something they both longed for ever since the moment Kuroh stepped into the office.)
Munakata steps closer then, pulling Kuroh to his chest and the young warrior doesn't even struggle, leaning into Munakata's body. The Blue King catches Kuroh's chin between his fingers, turning his head towards himself.
Kuroh is looking at him with mix of expectation and wonder. He licks his lips, unconsciously, and Munakata will be damned if that isn't one of the hottest things he has ever seen.
"And you don't dislike rain?" Munakata asks. Their faces are so close together his lips brush delicately against Kuroh's when he's talking.
Kuroh is panting, his body almost melting between Munakata's arms; is he already imaging both of them between sheets? Munakata's lips on every inch on his skin, their bodies thrusting against each other? Impatient brat – one day Munakata is going to spend hours teaching him just how important proper foreplay is. But sadly, that day isn't today.
"I find it quite interesting." Kuroh murmurs in answer, the hunger in his eyes clearly telling he's not speaking about rain anymore, and then he reaches to Munakata's head, slides his fingers through the King's hair, and pulls him down, kissing him with such passion it almost makes Munakata forget how to breath. He missed kissing Kuroh, missed those soft lips and taste of Kuroh mixed with Awashima's favourite green tea.
"Do you want this?" Munakata breathes, breaking the kiss and pushing Kuroh against the window, grinding his hips against Kuroh's ass, with satisfaction hearing how Kuroh's breath quickens. He remains silent though and Munakata grabs the hard front of Kuroh's pants almost brutally; Kuroh's back arches beautifully, a small scream of pleasure escaping his lips. "Well?"
"Y-Yes…" Kuroh looks at him, leaning his cheek against the glass of the window. He's blushing, his chest raising up and down quickly and he's looking at Munakata with such desire in his eyes it almost can be felt physically. His hand reaches up and traces Munakata's face with his fingertips, brushing his knuckle against the King's lips and Munakata licks it, sucks it into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, observing how Kuroh's eyes are getting bigger, his pupils blown wide. He's grinding his clothed erection against Munakata's hand absentmindedly. "I-I want you."
Kuroh leans for another kiss and Munakata kisses him with fervour, his hands all over the body of his lover. He has waited months for this and now he's going to take – and give back – as much as he wants.
"I'm going to break you," he murmurs into Kuroh's ear, felling hot like he has a fewer. He grabs Kuroh's hair and pulls his head back, hard, while simultaneously bending him over the window board, kissing and biting the pale column of Kuroh's throat.
Judging by Kuroh's delighted moan he doesn't mind that plan at all.