No matter what you do to me, it's always right.

Because it's you.

No matter if you hurt me,

bend me,

break me--

I don't know why it's like this; there's no way it should be like this.

But it is.

There's just something that no matter what happens, so long as you're with me... it's okay.

It's okay.

.something about you.

There's something about the way you say my name.

Whether you're feeling angry, or possessive, or lustful... there's something about the way you say my name.

The way you hold me,
(tightly, tenderly, furiously)

the way you touch me,
(lightly, teasingly, forcefully)

the way you kiss me,
(sweetly, roughly, desperately...)

And the way you say my name.

"Ryou..."

...You're here. I can hardly believe it. Why are you here now? I thought you were busy having fun with the world.

Without me.

With the world.

(bitter, bitter)

"I came back to see you, hikari."

How sweet.

But that's what you are: bittersweet to my soul, bittersweet on my lips, bittersweet 'tween my hips.

(...bittersweet tears...)

…So what now?

Back against the wall, firm lips pressing against mine (take this bitter taste from my mouth, sweet venom)

"Now..." Your voice is low, and husky, and I know what you want without you saying it.

But you say it anyway, because silly Kura doesn't know how well I know you by now and "Now, I want to have fun with you, little hikari."

Oh?

I act like I don't know what's coming, another kiss (sweet and bitter) then:

"I want you to be my world for a night."

...That's just fine with me.

His weight is dominating, and possessive, and firm, and oh so sweet the pressure, his tongue against my neck, travels up, up, up, along the jawline and into my mouth where it pushes its way into every tender crevice it can find (and those it can't) grinds against my own slippery writhing muscle and slips halfway down my throat.

I gag, but can't help feeling pleased as he touches my chest, paltry skin and flesh keeping him from my aching heart. Kura is mine now; I'm the only thing in his world. I'm all his.

And he's all mine.

Lithe, strong fingers are gripping me, my arms and hips and god knows what else they won't stop shifting, all over my naked body (yes I'm naked, and it doesn't matter when that happened because he's) pinching me in all the right places and all the wrong places and everywhere else he can find. There is a need in him, a desire that forces him onto me with such purpose and precision and absolute confidence in what he wants, needs and will take from me but what he doesn't know is what he's giving me in return, the exhilaration coursing (silently, stealthily) through his soul working its way into me through the indiscriminate probing of his fingers, pushing into me as he rubs desire and excitement (and deeply buried fear) into my skin my flesh and the other parts of me that are neither real nor imaginary.

Intangible.

Unreachable.

Untouchable for all except...

"Kura," I gasp, and there it is.

Blinding connection blacks out my vision then explosions of colour and silent sounds (am I screaming yet? Are you screaming?) and it's Kura, mercilessly working his way inside me, deliciously naked hips unceremoniously colliding with mine ferociously and I'm moaning aren't I? (I'm crying,) I must be no one could endure this without some raw emotion clawing its way out from your throat as your heart forces everything into the thick, heated air so your chest is throbbing with the emptiness and desperation to be filled (with aching, with being) and my body jerks and I'm screaming as he forces himself deeper into my mind and heart and soul and--

There it goes.

The release (the reception) lasts perhaps five seconds but that's what it's all about; that's what we're here for.

That's what I'm living for.

The connection and split moment when he's mine and all mine and mine alone and there is nothing in the world except me and him--

And it's gone.

And he's gone again.

And I am left alone again, to relish in the memory, and grasp at the wisping fading feelings and maintain once again, that this is all I need before slipping into Dreaming Without Dreams.

:: sonryz ::
More or less a lemon. ; A sequel to Rebirth, if you really want; I think that's what it was going to be initially, but then I lost most of what I was trying to say and just wrote a whole lot of (not-making-a-lot-of-sense-ness) smut. (- -;;;)

Nevertheless, feedback is welcome as always, so please pass on your (honest) opinions if you deem this fic worthy of comment--(yes I know it's a bit weird I was feeling a bit weird and wanted to try something new. Meh. -.-)