"Kiryuu!"
"Yeah?"
"C'mere."
I hear soft footsteps towards me, and a few sudden crunches, as if his feet have found a few stray soda cans on his way over to me. My knees begin to ache more and more by the moment until I finally erupt my crouch and allow my backside to fall, with a thud, to the ground.
I'm whistling a foreign tune once the shadow looms over me ("the," mind, not "a" – there's nothing like it in the world; so ravaging, yet so friendly [and oddly sensual], and I know I could only feel more safe in his arms).
"Crow? You alright?" he asks.
I sit up, grab my right shoulder, and swing my arm a bit. He places a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes.
"Yeah. Come see what I found," I say, almost triumphantly, but he, instead of following my hand motions to kneel closer to my latest junk-pile of excursions, sits behind me. He pushes his legs out on either side of me, wraps his arms around my waist, and rests his head on top of my shoulder. Probably closes his eyes, too, thinking about everything other than the thing I want him to.
I feel my face warm, but it isn't because it's embarrassing. It's because it isn't.
My body leans back into his hold, and one hand reaches back to twirl his blue-gray hair, while the other reaches forward to my junk pile. My hand pulls out my earlier-found discovery: a medium-sized rectangular…thing, with a cord running from it, and to a pair of what look like massive headphones.
"What do you think it is?" I murmur. Kiryuu breathes on my neck, and I fumble with the object in my hands after releasing his hair. "Hmm?"
Realizing that I don't plan on letting up, he softly groans and takes the object from my hands.
"It isn't anything," he says flatly. His arms rise to chuck the rectangle, and his lips touch my cheek lightly for a kiss, but I snatch the object from his hands.
"What are you talking about?" I exclaim, standing up suddenly and knocking him back. "We live in Satellite; you know how useful seemingly crap can be. There could be something in this that we could use in our D-wheels…"
I plop back down into his lap to take a closer look. And this time is different, because Kiryuu now peers over my shoulder with a fair amount of interest, or possibly lack thereof. He puts his arms around me again, but this time he grasps my more work-worn hands in his, and guides our hands together harmoniously along the rectangular object.
"See these?" he says, guiding our thumbs over tiny indented squares on the object. I nod. "There are shapes on them…"
Without a thought, I press the square with a triangle on it with a cracking pop sound, and a soft tinkling begins to come from the large headphones. I turn around in Kiryuu's lap and put the headphones over his ears, never letting my palms leave the squishy noise-makers. His hands reach up to grab my wrists, as if to pull my hands off of the headphones, but he makes no further movement. I lean forward, closing my body towards, and rest my head on his.
It's rare that I ever get to feel so above him. So, I stay that way for a while (and I almost want to just wrap my arms around him and hold him in my arms forever, or ravage him with utterly violent kisses that he wants, but can't see), and I say to him, "I want to kiss you."
And he does what I never expected him to do: he starts laughing. I frown, and my brow folds dangerously, because he's laughing that I want to hold him and kiss him.
"What the hell is so funny?" I ask. I level my mouth with his neck and lick it up wet, then begin to gently nimble sensually, and he tightens his arms around me. But then I bite him. Hard. I don't stop when he gasps, and I don't stop after he squeezes me, nor screeches slight obscenities; I don't even stop after I taste blood. I do stop, though, when I feel like my mouth has accumulated enough blood, and that's when I grab his face and kiss him. I bite his lip and shove my bloodied tongue inside his mouth, and, after the headphones fall to the ground, he has no other choice but to fall backwards and kiss me back even more harshly.
Because he loves blood. My Kiryuu loves his blood.
After I pull away and he violently pulls me back down by my hair, I say, "Why the fuck were you laughing?"
His eyes gleam incredulously. "Why the heck do you think? Whatever started coming out of the headphones was funny. Talking about giving 'chocolate' and 'cards' to your 'honey-bee…' 'Oh, I wanna make love to you by the fire, baby!'"
I grab the headphones and place them on my ears. The sound is definitely crackly and skipping, but he was right about the lyrics. I don't have the heart to explain to him that this is what Mommies and Daddies sing to each other, and what we should probably sing to each other.
"Oh, well," he says, standing up after I do. "It's garbage, just like most of this stuff. We'll find something, though, if we stay positive and keep looking. It's kind of like a miracle that it's lasted, though, yeah?"
He's telling me to throw it away, but I can't do that. Once he starts to wander off to another pile to rummage, I stuff the contraption into my vest pocket.
I want to be able to sing to him someday.
