A/N: So, I used to have an account a long time ago before I strayed off to a few other places, but now I'm back and ready for a fresh start in the anime/manga fandom. I hope all you readers will find my writing enjoyable and give me lots of support!
This is my first No.6 fic ever, but I've recently become obsessed with this anime/manga/light novel. Haha. Sion (as I prefer to spell it) and Nezumi are just too perfect for each other - otp for life tbh. If the characterization seems off, I apologize. I've only watched the anime so far, but I plan to read as much of the light novels that are translated as I can.
Note: I know we're unsure about whether or not Nezumi is older than Sion, but for writing purposes I have made it so.
Play Fair
...and then Sion had the dark haired boy right where he wanted him. Or so he'd thought.
Disclaimer: No.6 doesn't belong to me.
They were dancing again the way they sometimes did. It was always spontaneous, or at least it seemed that way to Sion, though (despite being the literal genius that he was) he could have been wrong – there was never any guarantee with Nezumi. There never seemed to be an explanation he felt he owed for his actions either and when on the off chance he actually decided to justify himself his explanations were always feeble, leaving out important details as to not make himself the hero. But Sion liked it that way, this way; the way he'd simply been making dinner in their humble abode like he did every night it was his turn to cook when Nezumi had suddenly snatched him up into a pair of strong, secure arms and begun to twirl them both around the crowded room as if they were the only two people in the world.
That's the way Sion felt too sometimes, like it was just them outside these walls. It'd been so long since he'd set foot inside the small, isolated, "perfect" world of No.6 that Sion was sure, had it not been for the monthly correspondence between him and his mother, that all memories of the now distant utopia would have melted from his mind at the simple caress of Nezumi's hand, the passionate look in his stormy grey eyes unlike any other eyes Sion had ever seen. And now in the firm cage of the taller boy's body, stepping this way and that, swaying effortlessly to the silent count of a nonexistent rhythm measured only by the beating of their hearts, Sion felt that familiar sensation of slipping. It was like being suspended midair, kept high only by the simple press of Nezumi's large, warm hand against the small of his back and the worn, calloused fingers laced in between his own. He was on the verge of falling, completely at the other's mercy – dangerous, just the way Sion liked it.
And the albino boy knew Nezumi was holding back, was treating him carefully, precariously, like he was something delicate, a doll made of glass, and that peeved Sion more than anything else.
Nezumi was the one who resembled a girl; he was the one with a pretty face and long, fragrant hair that was so black it gleamed blue in the warm, glowing lantern light; the one boys pined over despite his sex, Sion being no exception. The younger wanted him to stop with his careful handling, wanted to break Nezumi's fragile control and watch as he gave in to the repressed desires he could feel burning just beneath his pale skin. It'd be like that hurricane all those years ago, wild and untamable and devastatingly beautiful; once again Sion couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to throw open a window and scream, unleash the storm he could see brewing just beneath the calm surface of the other's eyes, like the pseudo calm of the ocean before a tsunami.
So he shoved Nezumi back against one of the many towering bookshelves occupying their already limited living space on their next step forward, a few paperbacks tumbling to the floor in the aftermath; and then Sion had the dark haired boy right where he wanted him. Or so he'd thought.
The shorter boy kissed him then, chaste the way they usually said goodnight, reveling in the startled sound that rumbled in the back of the elder's throat, the sudden tenseness Sion could feel abruptly gather in the boy's broad shoulders, just underneath his finger tips. His nails dug into the soft fabric of Nezumi's long sleeved shirt and he pressed in closer, tip-toeing and tilting his head so he could press their lips that much harder together, feel more of the soft fullness of elder's mouth.
Nezumi was still frozen in shock because Sion rarely ever played the wildcard, though he couldn't say he was unpleased. No, more than that. He was thrilled, a whirlwind of emotions building inside of him until his eyes narrowed to hooded slits and his hands sought purchase on Sion's tiny waist – always too skinny. This time when Sion leaned in so that the space between their lean bodies disappeared, replaced by the worn fabric of shirts and subtle entwining of long legs, Nezumi pressed closer as well, one of the arms at Sion's waist curling tighter and tighter around his tiny body until the boy let out a startled sound of protest at the bone crushing grip. The elder paid him no attention though, instead pulling back slightly from their embrace so he could trail one rough hand up the length of Sion's body, trace over every nearly absent dip and curve of the boy's side until his fingers teased at soft white hair that fell like snow all around the other's innocent looking face.
"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Nezumi's voice was low, rough and strained and breathless like he was in pain even though, judging from the dark, glassy look in his eyes, Sion was sure it was quite the opposite. The grasp he had on the other was painful, the gleam in his eyes feral enough to make Sion shiver, his senses subconciously piquing with the sudden aura of threat emanating from the older.
Everything about the situation brought Nezumi back to that fateful night all those years ago, and the dark haired boy couldn't resist the urge to smirk because Sion just never seemed to learn. He'd misjudged the situation yet again with that unfailing naivety of his, thought himself the hunter instead of the prey, and now Nezumi was about to show him exactly who the man was in this relationship (never mind all the dresses he had shoved toward the back of his closet). Sion was powerless to do anything but wriggle in his unrelenting hold and stare up at Nezumi with those wide, red doe eyes of his like a rabbit that had gotten its foot caught in a trap.
The latter was still sputtering indignantly (something along the lines of "..this is all a part of my plan!" ), bracing both hands against Nezumi's chest as if he'd shove him away though he made no move to do so, instead opting to curl his fingers tight into the material of his shirt until it became bunched and wrinkled from his touch. "I…I know what I'm doing. I just-"
Nezumi rolled his eyes, the fingers that had been thumbing repeatedly along the pink scar at his cheek shifting to tangle in soft, ivory hair, appendages curling near the back of his scalp, tugging so that the youth was staring up with rebellious, shining eyes at Nezumi's towering form. His lips were pouting, white eyebrows furrowed seriously, the way they sometimes did just before Sion began to argue something, but those blistering words and questions were immediately smoothed away by Nezumi's slick tongue as it slid into his mouth, making him gasp quietly; it sounded loud in the stillness of the room.
The large hand on Sion's waist slipped lower to the sharp jut of his hip, fingers pushing into the soft, snowy skin leaving bruises to bloom in their wake. He tried to resist as Nezumi took one step forward and then another, guiding him backwards; but he was helpless to do anything but follow the other boy's lead as usual because the way Nezumi kissed him made him feel light headed and weak. The sudden onslaught of tingling heat that spread from his swollen, red mouth all the way down to his toes where they curled pleasantly inside his socks had his knees buckling. It seemed impossible that he could feel this deliciously hot from just the brush of the taller boy's mouth, the hand fisted tightly into his hair, but Sion was no longer a stranger to the impossible becoming a reality – everything was possible with Nezumi.
His legs were shaking now, the only thing holding him upright Nezumi's strong, steady hands, and he whined unhappily into the elder boy's mouth when the backs of his calves hit the edge of their bed making him fall back onto the mattress with a slight bounce. Nezumi, of course, had kept his poised footing and was now smirking down at the other despite his usually steely eyes going soft as he stared, taking everything about Sion in: the way his hair, pure white like spun silk, created a shimmering alabaster halo where it fanned out around his head contrasting the dark blue of the comforter; the way his face was flushed, smooth pale skin burning bright red in the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. He was panting, the expanse of his chest rising and falling rapidly from beneath his usual beige cardigan, a few buttons at the top undone alluringly to hint at milky collarbones. Already Sion's gaze had gone dark and dazed, aimless as it drifted upward to the ceiling above while he attempted to catch his breath. Nezumi found it adorable.
"Not…fair…" He managed to whisper, coy and embarrassed that he'd succumbed to the older boy so easily. Nezumi gave a low chuckle and placed a knee on the bed, fingers fanning out where they positioned themselves next to Sion's head. The mattress dipped under his weight and the boy's breath hitched as Nezumi tugged his hair out of its usually ponytail, long indigo locks cascading down around his feminine face, falling like a curtain all around his broad shoulders and tickling at Sion's cheeks as he leaned over him.
"Come on, Sion. You know me better than that." He cooed teasingly, his free hand coming up to cup the white haired boy's soft, round cheek, fingers tracing along the part of his bruised lips before they prodded their way into that pliant, wet mouth. Sion squeezed red, shimmering eyes shut tight as Nezumi brought his own mouth down next to his ear, blowing into it softly until he shivered before nibbling at the lobe, making Sion moan around the long fingers that were now pressing down against the slick flat of his tongue. "I never play fair."
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