A/N: Aaaaaand here we are again. Sorry for the delays and accidental hiatus guys and girls, I really am. But you get a Halloween fic? YES YOU DO! The problem is? It's painfully short. Like, tiny in length.

However.

I got my mind changed. QnQ This reupdate is ALL BECAUSE OF YOU PEOPLE. Have some pron. Dx

Sorry for the precautions I'm taking? Love you guys, Happy Halloween.

Warnings and Disclaimer: Ikki x Kazu, vaguely written smut, and they'reeee not mine. -sob sob- Rated M for well...you know. Also - new POV!

Love love, Masi.

I think it's funny, really. How I always act like I'm in control when we both know it's you who's in charge. "Ikki, god damn it," I say, voice strained as you run your hands along my thighs, tugging my pants off in the process. "This is the fifth time this week."

"You're keeping track?" you ask with a grin, mouth a little too close to my lower regions. I feel my insides squirm before I grip you under the arms and pull you up until your face meets mine. It's not the time…

"Sorry if I can remember more than my name." I grin, pressing my forehead to yours before trying to roll you off of me – the party, remember?

"So how 'bout I make you forget all but my name?" You smile, as if it was actually possible, and slide your hands into my shirt to feel around for a good minute before tugging it off. I try to resist; if I let you go any further, we both know I won't be able – or want – to stop you.

"Nng, god, Ikki. No, you horndog." See? Acting as if I have even a small inkling of control even as you pull of my hat and bury your fingertips into my hair, mumbling about the contrast between the golden shine and your slightly tanned skin. I shut my eyes and scrunch up my face – because god even your fingers threading through my hair feels good – and try again to push you away. However I find it hard to when your skin is so burning hot and when I can't find the strength.

I give in when you move your hands down to my now bare chest, splaying them full out, fingers covering everything they can. You say you never get tired of it, the feeling of my heart speeding up beneath your hands. I just sigh and allow my heart to palpitate its course; trying to get my body as warm as yours is just because your touch feels like it's burning into mine, electrifying my senses, pumping blood to my icy fingers and toes [which you comment on with a cringe and a grin].

And to somewhere else that I wish I could deny. You comment on that too, and I feel my face heat up even more.

"Now stop pretending you don't want it," you say, lowering yourself to lay on me and – oh god – grind your hips against mine. And of course, though I try to suppress it, I want to curse when your name escapes my lips in a light and airy voice.

"Ikki…" Because you're the only thing on my mind right now. And I can't help it – when you press your half open lips against my eager ones, all I can do is shove my tongue into your mouth with a little too much enthusiasm and kiss you, as hard as I can. And I still can't help thinking you're a horndog when I'm just as bad myself. My fingers dig into your shirt, slipping and dragging the indentations across the white cotton, until I feel a growl well up in my throat that escapes before I can snag it on the way out. I pretend not to notice though, as I pull your T-shirt up and over your soft and spiked hair, popping your head out through the neck hole until it's just held there, stretched between your arms.

It's in the way, I think, trying to remove the scrunched up shirt so that our chests and stomachs can touch again, but your arms are connected to my chest and I can't slip the fabric through the infinitesimal layer of air between our skin, if there is any. I manage this time to stifle my frustration, but you seem to get the idea anyway because you lean back onto your knees and pull the shirt off before tossing it aside where it hits the wall and falls.

And then you come back for me, closing the gap again without that cotton barrier between us, and I sigh. You've gotten your way and you're going to get all you can, huh? You kiss me again on the lips, mouth pressing at both corners of my mouth before you move down my body, trailing little butterfly and chaste kisses down my collar bone and stomach down to my navel and I let out a startled moan when you add your hands into the mix too. But it's hard to be embarrassed by any of the sounds I make anymore because they've become so frequent that it's tiring to try and cover them up.

A moan there, a sigh here, a groan of pleasure, or even your name bubbling from my lips when you finally decide to use your tongue again. You move further down and I shudder, lips trespassing where nobody but you and I've been able to see before, closer and closer to the hem of my boxers.

Because of course you stripped my pants off before we'd even gotten started. I twist my fingers into your hair and try not to pull too hard but damn you're working on moving my underwear down too and even now I can barely stand the anticipation. Yet when I'm exposed and you grin and chuckle about how I'm "just as hard" as you are, I try to hide again, crossing my legs beneath you. Because though I've said it's been frequent, you and me, though I say it's been almost toooften [though it's hard to say I dislike it], I can't help still feeling awkward under your eyes, hesitant beneath your touch.

And I still have no idea what the hell either of us are doing when you uncross them again and I don't even try to resist. I don't really get it, the appeal for you to want to do this, but I can't help but love it. Love it when you push me farther up on the bed until I'm nearly sitting up against the headboard, love it when you slide yourself up into the bed as well and prop yourself up on your elbows, love it when you finally bend your head down and stop teasing me.

I find it odd that I note how you don't have much of a gag reflex, but it becomes very obvious when I involuntarily buck my hips into you and all you do is grin around me. My fingers release from your spikes because god I need something I can claw at without hurting you and clutch at the sheets beneath us when you clutch at my hip to hold me down.

"Nn…Ikki, I..!" I'm not sure where I'm going with it when I try to utter even just a few words, all I know is that I can't do it. "Ikki, you…!" I moan, feeling a low hum vibrate along my length and through my entire body. Why're you humming? "Ikki." I accept that your name is the only word I know right now, because you're all that's on my mind.

Your name's the only word I can remember. And I utter it freely, calling out to you for the umpteenth time as you suck, kiss and bite at me harder and harder, making it harder and harder to breathe anything other than "Ikki" under my breath.

"Ikki."

"Ikki,"

"IKKI."

I don't ask first, don't make sure you're ready for me to let go when I climax but you take it anyway [swallow it anyway], not even bothering to look up at me before you crawl up onto the bed and lay next to my panting form. But when you dolook at me, it's dead on, your eyes staring into mine before mine flutter to a close.

Because dealing with you always tires me out.

I hum, eyes lingering in their closed state as you run your fingers through my hair again, but gentler now. My fingers feel around for a blanket to cover myself but you notice and pass me a bundle of fabric – pants, assuming – and I blink my eyes open to pull them on sluggishly. They feel a little baggy, but I ignore it, more distracted by you getting up and leaving the bed.

"Ikki?" You pad around the room, picking up the stray pieces of clothing, and my eyes trail after you before sticking to the clock when they pass over it. "Ikki, we were supposed to go and meet the guys at 5:00…"

"We still have 10 minutes. We'll run fast." You pull a shirt over my head before thread your fingers through my hair again, crawling behind me and pulling me awkwardly onto your lap. "Put the pants on." Your fingers leave a lingering feeling on my scalp that I want to stop and savor, but whatever.

I grumble and look down to zip up my pants when I notice – they're not my pants. "Ikki? These are yours."

"So they are," you say simply, not even bothering to mention that you're wearing mine too. When you finish playing with my hair, you tug on my shirt too, and all I can do is stare and wonder.

"Why?"

"Because you didn't dress up last year," you answer, as if it was just that simple. I blink in confusion, turning to look at you as you pull my hat on.

Then it clicks. I scramble out of your lap and off of the bed, stumbling for a few steps before I can cling to the door frame of my bathroom and stick my head inside, nervously checking my appearance.

"Ikki. No way am I going out like this." I grimace, trying too hard to peel my eyes off of the mirror, but they're stuck to the reflection. Because you spiked it. You spiked my hair, the blonde hair pulled up and twisted and prodded and perfected until it mimicked your usual do.

"Oh yes you are," you grin, lip curling up and eyebrows narrowing in like the evil little asshole we both know you can be. "Because you don't really have a choice anymore, you owe me."

"You…oh you didn't." My eyes widen in horror; it was true, frankly. If anything, I should at least go along with it, right? But you…you gave me a blowjob to get me naked "So now we have to go as each other?"

"Pretty much." You smile and finally stand next to me in front of the mirror, arm snaking around my waist and face leaning in to plant a swift kiss on my temple. "We look good together, so why change it?" You chuckle, as if it was so well planned that you could hardly believe it yourself.

I chuckle too, but more at myself. Because as much as you're annoying me as you pull me in for a more full frontal kiss, and I awkwardly look to the right and can only see us, I can't help but agree.

End note: Ahahahahahahahahahaaaaah...