A/N: Warnings for yaoi/explicit erotic content.

This fic is so far from my comfort zone. I'll rant about it in my lj, but for here know that I know I played with the timeline, I consider Nagi of age, and this is the first time I've written these two as anything but incidental characters. Oh, and rageofloki thought I should call this "Stop This or you'll go Blind". What? There's only one spot that really refers to.

That said, I own nothing of WK. I only play with the characters.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Taking Chances

Brad Crawford inspected his appearance in the mirror. He looked older than his years. Some might have been bothered by that, but at this point, he simply counted himself lucky to be alive.

It was strange after all this time to have his hair back to its original color, but it helped. Dying it, along with getting rid of the monocle, had been Schuldig's doing, or at least the result of his advice, insisting it would make him look younger and be preferable to the white it had turned to over the years. Damn if the man hadn't been right.

He blamed his premature aging on his talent, on how he was continually forced to worry over and manipulate situations because of what he saw in his visions. Strangely, now that the little Takatori was rising to power, Crawford was finally seeing the end to much of his stress. Eszett had been stupid, making a huge mistake with their use of Berger's team at the Academy. It hadn't been so much their use, but that they had been blatant about letting Schwarz know just how outdated Eszett felt Schwarz had become. A shame, it was, since Schwarz had proven that night how much more competent they were than any of Eszett's new teams. And when Eszett had next contacted Bradley Crawford concerning an assignment for Schwarz, he suffered no guilt telling them, in no uncertain terms, that, considering Eszett's low estimation of their talents, he was declaring Schwarz's service to Eszett finished. When the agent might have argued with him, he mentioned Nagi's name, inspiring an immediate, uncomfortable silence that brought a halt to the conversation midstream. It was useful to know that the mere mention of Naoe Nagi's name had the entirety of Eszett, not to mention Rosenkreuz, shaking in their proverbial boots.

Speaking of Nagi, Crawford couldn't shake the thought of the boy as he padded quietly through the house. Nagi had grown up in the time he had been away, and since the night Nagi had made his appearance at the Koua Academy, leaving Crawford unable to catch his breath, nothing had been the same. Day in, day out, Nagi consumed his thoughts, his dreams, all but his visions. Crawford was torn between not wanting Nagi to be a part of his talent, and wanting a vision that would give him insight into how he should handle the tumultuous feelings that tore at him.

He ended up, as he had inevitably over the past few nights, standing at Nagi's door, tempted but completely undone by fear that was born of his sudden and unexpected sense of morality and more than a hint of certainty that Nagi would be completely disgusted by his interest, if not downright scoff at it.

He was retreating down the hallway as he had on each of those nights, a concentrated attempt on his part to reach his office, when a muffled sound distracted him, drawing him back to the door, which he now realized was slightly open. Crawford studied the wood paneling as if he might find an alien life-form within the grain, listening to the muted sounds from within, trying to make sense of them as he tried to puzzle out why Nagi, who valued his privacy so much, would forget to close the door.

Stepping closer, fully intending to pull the door closed, he hesitated with his hand barely resting on the brass knob. It wouldn't hurt to slake his personal obsession, could it? To be a bit of a voyeur and satisfy his curiosity with a peek into Nagi's life? If he were quiet enough, Nagi would never notice, and if he did by some chance, Crawford figured he could make the excuse that he had found the door open and was simply checking to make sure everything was as it should be. Laying his palm to the cool surface of the wood, he pushed the door open an extra couple of inches, giving himself just enough of a field of vision to make out the object of his fixation. And the source of those sounds.

Crawford could just make out Nagi's slim form in the rumple of material on the bed, but once his eyes found their focus, he couldn't look elsewhere. Spread out with one hand reaching over his head to grip the edge of the mattress, Nagi's other hand was wrapped around his cock, drawing his hips upward in a gentle pulsing with every slow, smooth stroke, evoking a low-pitched, needy whine as his hand reached the peak, practically slipping off the swollen head entirely before swirling around and then back down over the hard column of flesh.

Holding his breath, fearful that even the slightest sound would ruin this moment, Crawford's brain flooded with sensory overload. What was Nagi thinking about? What were his fantasies made of? Or who? Was he thinking of that damn Takatori kid? Or were there others that occupied the telekinetic's mind?

What would it feel like to have his hands running over all that smooth skin?

He bit back the groan as his own fantasies sparked to life in his mind. Nagi's skin under his hands, their bodies flush together, savoring the taste of him, having him bound, at his mercy, relishing the sounds Nagi would make as he sank deep within his body.

A guttural gasp snapped him back to the reality of Nagi arching off the bed, the stroking increasing with one hand while the other was now crinkling the blankets in its grip. His eyes were closed, clenched tight in what Crawford assumed was concentration and pleasure, the long line of his neck exposed as his head tilted back. His mouth opened, breath hitching, and a long, drawn out moan signaled his oncoming release. Crawford's gaze shifted over the slender chest and abdomen in time to watch the pale fluids burst from the engorged cock, splattering over Nagi's hand and belly.

Nagi relaxed against the bed with a sigh, panting, running his hands over the taught skin of his belly, smearing the warm stickiness . Crawford knew it would be a matter of moments before Nagi opened his eyes, turned his head, and discovered he was being watched. Leaving the door as it was, Crawford backed out to a safe distance and, taking a deep breath in an attempt to alleviate the demand of his own cock, adjusted an already perfectly straight tie and smoothed his hands over an impeccably neat shirt before continuing on his way to his office, completely oblivious to the other presence in the hall, silently, thoughtfully observing.

"Why don't you just go in there and do what you really want to do?"

Crawford clutched a hand to his chest, startled by the voice coming out of the darkness of his office. How had he not noticed him lounging on the couch, his silhouette so clear now that Crawford knew what he was looking for?

"What the hell are you doing here, Schuldig?"

"What I do best. Sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong. Are you going to take my advice or not?"

"Damn Schuldig. He's just a kid."

"And here I thought you were a smart man, Bradley. Even if he hadn't grown up, he's never been a kid. You and I both know that. How could he be after all he's been through?"

"And what about Takatori? Last I heard, they were rather tight."

Schuldig waved that off. "Yes, they were tight, but it's coming to an end." He had known it wouldn't last when it began. Takatori Momoru's interest in Nagi had been mostly self-serving and manipulative, and Nagi was too smart to be used for long in such a way. Schuldig wondered that it had even lasted as long as it had; he sensed from Nagi that he was mostly over it.

"I'm still the closest thing he has to a father."

Schuldig barked a laugh at him.

"How noble of you! But trust me, he doesn't think of you as a father."

"What would you know about it?" For all Schuldig's telepathic talent, Nagi was just as good at blocking him out.

Schuldig shifted slightly, settling back in his seat more comfortably.

"Let's just say his shields don't work quite as well when he's in the throes of passion. Who do you think he was fantasizing about in there? Who's hand do you think he was imagining pumping his cock up into? And when he's dreaming, oh, yeah," he adjusted once more, wriggling his hips a bit, "I think you'd really enjoy his dreams, Bradley."

"Shut up." Crawford hissed the words at him. He didn't need any visuals of what Nagi might be dreaming of, didn't need to know that the kid fantasized about him. It was hard enough to resist temptation without this new information.

Standing effortlessly, Schuldig took a moment to light a cigarette, the light flickering brightly in the dark room.

"I never figured this from you, Bradley. All the things we've done, and you decide to draw the moral line in the sand about this." He sauntered to the door, opening it and further illuminating his profile in the dim light from the hallway. "You know it was him that got you out of that building, don't you? You almost died in that last showdown. You should have seen his face when he thought it was too late. That alone might change your mind."

"Why do you even care?" Schuldig liked to play games, but Crawford couldn't figure out what this one might be about.

"Don't know," Schuldig answered honestly. "Maybe I just wish I knew what it was like to have someone look at me like that."

The door clicked shut before Crawford had a chance to respond.

"Leaving so soon?" He sounded like a forlorn lover. He had spent the previous night unable to sleep, his mind trying to wrap itself around the revelations Schuldig had provided.

Nagi turned only his head, glancing over his shoulder without actually making eye contact.

"Yes."

"Will you be returning?" He sounded like the worried father.

Nagi bowed his head, his voice remaining as neutral as possible, but Crawford hoped that slight wistfulness wasn't his imagination.

"Am I still welcome here?"

"There will always be a place here for you Nagi, but I understand if you choose to work for another." He wanted to say more, had a million questions to ask about Nagi's association with Takatori, about their relationship, about why Nagi had agreed to help him, about what their business arrangement was, what their personal arrangement was. He remained vague.

"I have only one last obligation to fulfill."

Did that mean what Crawford thought it meant?

"And then?"

"I will return. If you want me."

Not 'if you want me to.' If you want me. What Crawford wanted wasn't in question. It was his conscious that was getting in his way. Could he reconcile what Schuldig had pointed out, that Nagi was now an adult? That he wanted to try, there was no doubt, but would inviting Nagi back be making a promise he might not be able to keep?

This was ridiculous! He always had a plan, was always definitive in his actions. Indecision was out of the question. And here he was floundering over something that he was suddenly sure was without a doubt a crucial decision regarding his own happiness. Calm, cool Bradley Crawford, reduced to sweaty palms, nervous butterflies, and a loss for words.

"I think we need to talk," he compromised. Yes, he wanted Nagi to return, yet he still needed time to think about this.

Nagi turned, his dark eyes meeting Crawford's with a curious expression that, as usual, gave nothing away. Nagi had become amazingly good at hiding his feelings and reactions when he needed to. It was a skill Crawford appreciated, but not now. He needed, now more than ever, to be able to see what the telekinetic was thinking.

"This may take a couple of hours," Nagi answered in that calm, mild voice he had become such a master of, no more betraying him than his features.

"I'll be here when you return."

A single nod, and Nagi left. Crawford remained as he was for long minutes, waiting for his nervous anticipation to settle, unable to think past his current actions to what he might actually say to Nagi when he finally had the chance.

It was his last assignment for Takatori. Nagi had promised, for his own reasons, to assist Takatori in eliminating the Eszett and Rosenkreuz threat. It had been a mission mostly accomplished with the downfall of Koua Academy and Berger's team, but there one loose end had remained.

Now it was done.

He stood on the roof of the building, allowing himself a moment to reflect on the history that had brought him to this point, the sacrifices, heartache, and pain. Strangely, some of that history had been good, but damn if he could feel any of that now. It had all been bittersweet and was now being suffocated by the regrets. Regrets that he had been forced to such extremes. Regrets that he had paid such a high price for his own freedom.

Regrets that he had not followed his heart.

The loss of young, naive love had practically torn him apart, but he had learned from it. Learned that he could feel, that he was more than simply a machine to be used for his talent. That there was a human being within that craved one of the simplest yet most complex of human emotions. Love. He had also learned loss, and the pain it brought. It had made him harder, tougher, given him an edge he needed, taught him to protect himself.

And for a very long time, he had been successful.

Then came Takatori. It had started as nothing more than mutual need, neither romantic nor sexual. Nagi needed Takatori for the intel and connections he could provide with his position, and Takatori needed him for his talent. As good as Weiss was, even Takatori knew that he needed a talent to defeat talent, and Nagi's talent and personal vendetta provided the best weapon for what they needed. That they found an attraction for each other in the arrangement, that they were able to satisfy other mutual needs, was a bonus that developed along the way.

Nagi didn't regret his time with Takatori. Mamoru had taught him he could feel again, even if the feelings were nothing more than physical. Nagi had learned to let down his shields, but only to limited degrees. He also knew that his time with Mamoru was not going to last, and he still protected that most vulnerable part of himself. He instinctively knew that Mamoru was aware that he wasn't giving everything to their relationship, but Mamoru never asked for an explanation and Nagi never offered one. After all, Mamoru had no soap box to stand on; he wasn't giving everything, either, and they both knew it.

It was sometime during their time together that Nagi started to understand why he was so protective, so unwilling to give fully of himself. He began to understand who it was he kept that part of himself locked away for. At first those feelings were contradictory. Brad Crawford was the closest thing he had to a father, and although he hadn't been the most ideal father figure, the feelings Nagi was coming to terms with could still be considered quite inappropriate. But above and beyond that, Brad Crawford had been his boss for a very long time, and many of the decisions he had made had been to force Nagi to deal with the realities of what they did. Many of them had been hurtful decisions, and it wasn't until recently that Nagi had come to realize that making those decisions had taken as much of a toll on Brad Crawford as their results had been on Nagi.

He had Schuldig to thank for that touch of enlightenment.

In the wake of the Koua events, Nagi's relationship with Schuldig had changed. Schuldig had changed. He was still annoyingly full of himself, but there was now something about him that was more understanding, more sympathetic. And Nagi couldn't be sure, but he almost sensed a sorrow within Schuldig, a regret perhaps, a sense of remorse. Whatever it was, Schuldig had started talking to Nagi in a way he never had before, no longer being so condescending or cruel, but rather feeding him little bits of insight in an almost brotherly fashion. And all those insights were into the mind of one Bradley Crawford, little hints of how Crawford thought, how he had maneuvered to free Schwarz from Eszett, what those manipulations had cost. And, at some point, it began to feel like Schuldig was championing Crawford for some reason, trying to get Nagi to see something he had missed, but that Schuldig was painfully aware of.

And it was working. Seeing Crawford lying motionless on the floor of Koua Academy had been jolting. All the conflicted feelings had dissipated like smoke as Nagi's heart was seared with the possible loss. He had been shocked silent at the sight, barely able to breathe through the pain, and when he realized Crawford was still alive, the relief was so profound he could hardly hide the tears. Schuldig's little revelations only served to confirm Nagi's feelings towards Crawford. No longer elusive, his attraction to Brad had become a constant aching need, to be closer to Brad, to be recognized as more than a talent to be used. It had become a wish to no longer be seen as a child, and, above all, for his feelings not to be one-sided. What he would give to find out there might be a mutual attraction.

Until this evening, that last wish had been fruitless. Now there seemed to be hope. He couldn't have misunderstood Brad's nervous behavior, could he? Perhaps Brad was aware of how he felt and simply wanted to explain that nothing was going to happen.

No, he wouldn't allow himself to think that way. He had to maintain some hope.

He called Takatori, letting him know it was finished, that Nagi was done with his business with Weiss. With Mamoru. Now void of a mission, Nagi braced himself for whatever his future held, hoping for acceptance, dreading the possibility of rejection.

Brad heard the front door open and close, knew instinctively who it was. His nerves, wound impossibly tight, made him hyper-aware of his surroundings and every minute creak of the house throughout the entire evening. He sat at his desk, with only the faint light of the small desk lamp to keep him company, waiting for the soft knock at the door that he always recognized as Nagi. Hell, Schuldig wouldn't have bothered knocking. He had barging in down to a science.

Normally, he wouldn't have bothered moving from his desk. A simple 'enter' would have sufficed. Tonight, however, it didn't feel right. This wasn't about business. He stood, usually steady hands fluttering over his shirt, tie, and jacket as he moved around his desk and approached the door. Knowing who would be on the other side didn't stop his heart from skipping erratically when he opened the door to Nagi, who stood still and silent, his head bowed slightly, his hair a wave that hid downcast eyes. Brad took a close look at the man before him, no longer the boy he remembered. Nagi had come into his own, that was for sure. He had a lithe, lean figure that could be considered boyish, but Brad suspected Nagi would remain willowy for years to come, much like Schuldig had, but even slighter. He also, since his return, exuded a maturity that he had lacked before, a new-found confidence in his talent, most likely from his success against Rosenkreuz, combined with a personal sophistication and self-assuredness.

"You said we needed to talk."

It was his usual understated tone, which had grown soft and melodious with age, and gave no indication that Schuldig's suggestive disclosures were accurate. But Brad had finally come to his own conclusion while waiting in the dark. If Shuldig had lied, was playing one of his sick games, Brad would suffer the embarrassment at the end of the evening. But he didn't think that was the case, and if Schuldig had been genuine, if there was a chance for something more intimate with the young telekinetic, he was going to do everything in his power not to waste that chance.

Yet all the things that he wanted to say to Nagi suddenly dried up in his throat.

He reached out a hand, pushing away the strands of hair that hid Nagi's face. Nagi raised his eyes, wary, cautious, but not pulling away. Could this be a good sign?

"I...don't know where to begin, Nagi." That admission alone laid him bare, vulnerable. Nagi was intelligent enough to know what it would mean for Brad to be at such a loss of direction. Unused to displays of emotion, Brad took a breath and decided to start with something he should have done days ago.

"Thank you for saving my life. I never would have made it out of that building without you, and I'm lucky I was even a consideration taking into account your mission."

Nagi was surprised, and it showed as he stared hard at Brad. Brad wasn't one to express appreciation, but here he was offering it freely.

"I didn't do much. You were injured badly from your mental exertions with Berger. I didn't even know if you would survive. I simply moved you out of the building." It was true enough, as was his next admission.

"I would never have left you behind, Brad."

Nagi was used to Brad being business-like, used to the professional, disciplined blank mask Brad often used. What he saw now, he had no foundation to understand.

"Why?"

Nagi's gaze dropped away again, away from the intensity, away from the emotion he wanted to understand but was afraid of misinterpreting.

"Why what?"

"Why did you save me? Why wouldn't you have left me if it was not part of your mission?"

Nagi wanted to tell the truth, but wasn't yet able.

"I still think of you as the leader of Schwarz, Brad. I still think of myself as part of your team."

Brad turned away, walking a few feet back into his office.

"There is no more Schwarz, Nagi. Not like before. We'll never answer to Eszett or Rosenkreuz again, so technically we're all free agents."

"I agree I will never answer to them again, but this wasn't about them."

Brad leaned against his desk, letting his fingertips catch his weight.

"What was it about?"

He heard Nagi moving closer, his light step on the carpet, the soft sound of the door being quietly closed. But the gentle pressure of Nagi's hand at the center of his back just below his shoulder blades still startled him. He wheeled around, eyes wide, breath coming harshly, absolutely floored by the jolt that went through him at that slight touch. Nagi had stepped back, giving him space, waiting out his reaction, and Brad slowly processed the expression on the younger man's face. Fear, surprise, vulnerability, concern, hope, anticipation were all present. And something weaving in and out through the shadows of all the others.

Any hesitation or second thoughts Brad might have had deserted him then, certainty replacing them. Whatever moral high ground he had been considering slid away like mud down a steep incline. If Schuldig was wrong, if Nagi refused him, so be it, but he wasn't running from these feelings any longer.

His hand shook as he reached out to palm Nagi's face, and hope welled when Nagi didn't flinch away, but rather raised his own hand to steady Brad's against his cheek. No longer looking away, Nagi's eyes reflected maturity Brad had failed to notice until this moment, a wisdom borne of difficult lessons learned.

There was a time, when Eszett had control, when Brad answered to others even when he knew the fault of their ideas, that Brad might have scoffed at Nagi's sentimentality, made it another one of those hard lessons about guarding your feelings. Not now. Not ever again. He reveled in that expression, that Nagi was sharing it with him, and let the warmth in that expression reel him in, draw him closer.

Their lips met, the merest press of flesh on flesh, surprising both men with the searing effect of the contact, and then it couldn't be controlled any longer. Brad advanced, wrapping his hand around the back of Nagi's head, through the thick, silky hair, to hold him closer even as his body pushed him back. Clinging, hands grasping at his chest and waist, Nagi moved with him until his back met the wood of the door with a hard thump, sending the air out of his lungs with a sharp whoosh, forcing him to release the kiss. It was a sobering moment, both men fully coming to terms with what was transpiring. Brad released Nagi, bracing himself against the door, supporting himself on shaky knees even while he tried to give them a breath of space.

"Did I hurt you?"

Shaking his head slowly, Nagi drew his hands over Brad's stomach, chest, and finally to his shoulders, pushing the suit jacket out of his way as he did it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Brad continued as if he hadn't registered Nagi's response.

Nagi's sharp grip on his shoulders jerked Brad from his preoccupation, surprising him as Nagi used more strength than Brad gave him credit for to push him back so he could shove the jacket off his shoulders and down the length of his arms, letting it fall on the floor.

"You didn't hurt me, Brad." He raised his face and was kissing Brad again, quickly, on his lips, over his jut of his jaw, down his neck, as Brad tried to gain his balance, adjust to this new promise presenting itself.

Nagi was so soft, lips, hair, skin, and Brad wondered crazily if Nagi had ever even shaved. And then Nagi bit him, hard enough to sting, to draw him from his drifting thoughts. Nagi was studying him, as if he were searching for the answer to an unasked question, and then his mouth was rising to meet his. Brad held back slightly, kept a breath of space between them.

"Are you sure about this, Nagi?"

Nagi hesitated only a moment before closing that last bit of distance, offering his mouth, and Brad accepted, welcoming the fullness of Nagi's tongue sliding against his and the sharpness of teeth pulling at the fullness of his lower lip, the draw of his mouth, the delicious spike of pleasure as Nagi wrapped his lips around his tongue and sucked, and oh God, as that illicit action jerked his cock, Brad couldn't figure how he had thought to deny himself this intense pleasure, and then Nagi's hands were scrabbling for purchase, finding Brad's own and drawing it between his legs to cup the aching hardness there, guiding Brad's hand to squeeze him with the perfect amount of pressure to cause his breath to catch as his hips ground forward.

As young as Nagi was, Brad found his lack of innocence wickedly enticing, reassuring him, exciting him, allowing him to drop his own inhibitions. He pulled his hand away so he could wrap his arms around Nagi and crush his smaller form to his own, half expecting a protest to the force of it, receiving nothing but Nagi's eagerness. Nagi clung to him, wrapping one long slim leg around him, attempting to draw him even closer.

Brad wanted to question it. This was going to change things, he knew. They were both taking chances here, and he wanted to stop and take the time to think about it, but Nagi wrapping himself around him stripped away the logical thought and reservations, and left him with no will but to succumb to the hunger that had been riding him for so long. Dropping to his knees, he lowered Nagi to the floor, and Nagi adjusted to every movement, shifting with him, pressing up against him, reaching out to unbutton and push Brad's shirt open even as he tried to remove his own, exposing the soft skin of his narrow chest and hollowed stomach, and then reaching for the belt at Brad's waist.

In the frenzy of tearing at clothes, time slowed down pleasantly for Brad, and he became aware of Nagi's body moving under his, the flex of muscle that wasn't obvious when Nagi was wearing clothes, the way his stomach dipped at the bottom of his ribcage, and then again at his belly button, and how narrow his hips were where they disappeared under his waistband. Nagi lay back after getting the buckle, button, and zipper down to find Brad observing him and had all of about two or three seconds to wonder if Brad liked what he saw before Brad lowered himself to press his open mouth to Nagi's collarbone. Lips, tongue, and teeth traced their way along the prominent ridge and then worked lower over the soft skin of Nagi's chest and softer belly, drawing on a nipple, delving into his bellybutton, licking along the last line of skin as Brad worked the fabric loose, and following the progress of his hands as he exposed more, until the hardness of Nagi's erection pressed against his face. Without hesitation, he licked his lips and wrapped them around the tip and let them sink fully over the heated flesh.

Nagi cried out at the intensity, scrambling with one hand to hold Brad's head in place as his hips pushed up at the intimate contact, and together they found a frantic, desperate rhythm accompanied by Nagi's quick, panting breaths and a low keening hum from Brad.

It would have been easy to give in to this pleasure, but Nagi wasn't about to when he wanted something more. It took considerable effort, not to mention quite a bit of lip-biting to control himself, for him to pull Brad away, bringing his lips back to his own, biting back the smile of irony that while Bradley Crawford was older, certainly more experienced, and always in control, it was he, the younger subordinate, that was now leading the way.

Wriggling his way out of his pants, Nagi pushed himself up on the edge of the couch, drawing Brad between his legs. Brad willingly followed his urgings and cues, pushing his own pants away, kneeling before him and using the moisture dripping from both erections to slick his own. Running his hands up the back of Nagi's calves to his knees, he pushed his legs back and used strong hands on his hips to draw Nagi down into his lap while Nagi caught the rest of his weight on his elbows. Managing to slow his pace, Brad held Nagi's hips suspended as he slowly introduced himself to Nagi's body, his eyes clenched shut against the sensation of the soft skin beneath his fingertips, and the tight warmth gradually surrounding his cock.

At some point Nagi stopped holding his breath with each gentle thrust and started pushing back as much as he could, using his elbows and gravity to propel himself and rock his body against Brad's, encouraging him to move faster. Occasionally, he would roll his hips just right, getting a jolt of friction as his cock made contact with Brad's belly. Nagi dropped his head back as a small smile curved his mouth. Yes, the abs were still tight; leave it to Bradley Crawford to take care of his body. And there was something about the way Brad held his hips, held his weight, controlled the thrust, so deep, so hard, lifting him away, pulling him close again, grinding into him, not giving him a chance to catch his breath, and then that friction again and Nagi was coming, the orgasm completely unexpected and overpowering, leaving him gasping for air even as a guttural moan rolled from his chest.

Bradley Crawford was in a heaven he had never thought possible someone such as he could even come close to. Nagi moving against him, a light sheen of sweat breaking over his skin, his body welcoming, eager. The sounds he made, whether he was conscious of them or not, were music to Brad's ears, confirming his pleasure at Brad's hands, quite literally it seemed, for Nagi seemed more than willing to allow Brad control over his body. And with his hands secured on Nagi's narrow hips, his fingers massaging into the tight, lean muscles, Brad felt like he could keep that rolling rhythm going forever, or at least as long as Nagi kept making those deep groans of pleasure with each thrust, and especially when his cock rolled up against Brad's stomach. And then that warm, pulsing wetness as Nagi threw his head back, and the clenching of his body around Brad's cock, and Brad's resolve to go on forever completely dissolved into a surrendering burst of lust as the heat swelled up and overwhelmed him.

Head still hanging back, body limp, mouth open as he panted for breath, eyes tightly closed, it took Nagi a moment to return to reality. Brad was still moving against him, but with an easy, sated rhythm, and he was resting his forehead against Nagi's diaphragm, breathing hard himself, the hot breath heating the taught skin there. A few seconds passed, and Nagi raised his head to look down at Brad. A few more seconds, and Brad finally spoke, fear settling into his voice now that the passion was receding.

"Will you stay?"

"I'll stay," Nagi vowed in a quiet, sincere tone. "I want to stay." He used the last of his strength to pull himself fully up onto the couch, taking Brad's hand, nearly pulling him onto the couch, curling up into his body.

"You know this is going to change everything." Brad was worried, that much was clear.

"Have you had a vision?"

"I don't need a vision to know that nothing will ever be the same."

Nagi sighed, relieved. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Bradley Crawford didn't answer, but as they drifted off to sleep, still holding each other close, he felt a sense of relief that this part of his life had not been controlled by a vision, and maybe, just maybe, he could, for once simply live in the moment and enjoy.