DISCLAIMER: I don't own Beyblade or any likenesses.

Thanks to my reviewers: SilveryKitsune, Ezj, Titanicabe, I luv Kai, Assassin of the Shadows, Rumi-Chan, TechnoRanma, CrazyJen

A/N: this chapter is rated R because of use of obscenities and m/m relations.

~*~

NOTHING

That night I went to bed like I always did and I waited until Tyson had retired to bed also. I waited until his breathing evened out and became much deeper, suggesting sleep. I slowly got up; I winced when the bed creaked at the movement. I took my suitcase from my cupboard and started to pack as quickly and as quietly as possible, I wanted to eliminate the possibility of a confrontation with Tyson. I stole past him and made my way to the bathroom. I hurriedly packed my toiletries and made my way back to the room. Only to find......

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

I felt my jaw drop, I could only stand there. I heard a loud clash, when I tore my eyes away from his I noticed all my toiletries littering the floor around my feet. In my shock, I had dropped everything.

"I'm - uh...away."

"Why?"

I struggled to gain control of my facial features, finally succeeding in forcing them into a neutral mask, "None of your business."

I watched him with cautious eyes, he came closer and I felt my skin flush and I again cursed myself at my lack of restrain around him. He pushes his hands against my chest, splayed his fingers. I felt my heart beat speed up and I prayed that he couldn't feel it pounding against my ribcage. I try everything but I can't look away from him. His stormy blue grey eyes hold me captive.

"You're not leaving; I'm not going to let you run away again."

"Try and stop me," my voice cracks and I wince but I continue, "There is nothing to keep me here. I'm eighteen years old. Beyblade isn't my life anymore."

"Then what is?" he counters.

'I don't know yet, but I intend to find out."

"I can help you," he says to me.

"What?"

He raises his hand to my face and caresses my cheek, my skin burns where he touches it. I feel one arm snake around my middle and another buries itself in my throng of hair. He pulls me roughly to him and my breath hitches. I can see his cheeks turning a rosy hue and I know that my own skin is flushed.

I am suddenly very aware of what he is doing. I feel the hem of my shirt being lifted and his fingertips trail across my heated skin.

I can help but gasp. "What are you doing?" I meant to sound demanding but to my own ears my plea sounded weak and husky.

"Making you stay," he whispers back to me. His lips brush briefly against my own and just as quickly they are gone and a moan escapes my lips. He presses himself against me and I hiss as I feel his need.

He pushes me back even further. I lose my balance and falls against my bed. I look up at him, standing over me through half shuttered eyes. I watch as he slowly lowers himself on top of me. His hands find their way under my shirt; he rubs against my nipples until my breathing becomes laboured with desire. Tyson pulls my shirt up and off. He lowers his head and plants a kiss on my abdomen. I watch him as he sticks out his tongue and trail a path up my stomach, dips into my navel and continues on his trek up my torso. A murmur of desire escapes my lips as he places butterfly kisses along my jaw line. A kiss at the corner of my mouth leaves me wanting more, but instead he drops his lips to my throat. He suckles at the tender flesh there, he marks me.

Then he pulls away again and raises his eyes to meet my own. His eyes have darkened, "You're mine," he whispers aggressively. I shiver at his words. Finally he presses his lips to my own and how could I not respond. He presses his body flush against my own. I feel his lips curve into a smile against mine. He knows now just how much I want him.

His hand untangles itself from my hair and travels down across my torso, his feather light touch is teasing me, he is teasing me. I had forgotten that I had changed into my other clothes before I left for the bathroom. I can feel them clinging it me, my sweat making them like a second skin. He brushes against the front of my jeans and I gasp at the caress. I close my eyes and blush as I feel my body strain against his hand. I want more, I need more.

"Is this for me?" he questions. It sounds innocent enough but I can sense that he is mocking me. I can feel him shaking with mirth, or was that me? If it was me, I knew that I wasn't shaking because I found myself amusing; I was quivering for an entirely different reason. I tried to make my brain work, but I couldn't think of a single coherent thought. I could only feel and my senses are now completely devoted to Tyson, where he is, what he's doing - to me. If I had opened my eyes I know that he would be looking at me with a dangerous glint in his eye. I wanted to see that but my eyelids were just so heavy.

"Don't mess with me Tyson. You know it's for you, because of you," I mumble this low in my throat. I cringe inwardly at my own voice. I couldn't believe I sounded that needy; so desperate.

He pulled his hand away and left me jerking at the loss of contact, a whimper sounded and again I couldn't believe that Tyson had me sounding like this, had me wanting like this. Suddenly I felt something cold on my skin, just inside the waistline of my jeans. I realised it was Tyson's fingertips. I felt him fumble with my zipper and I was suddenly thrown back into the conscious world. I woke up from the dream like trance that Tyson's affections had created.

"No...no...." I stuttered incoherently. I tore my lips away from his soft ones by turning my head to the side. And I pushed his shoulders.

"Wh...what?" Tyson managed to ask as he lifted himself of me.

"I can't...," I looked at him; his hair, free from its regular ponytail, mused from my caresses, was hanging around his face, his eyes where hazy with lust. Oh my God; his eyes; I was drowning. I shook my head, "I'm not like that."

"Like what?" He asked indignantly.

"Like you."

"Really," he mocked, 'Cause I could have sworn....."

"Well you thought wrong." I retorted, interrupting his obviously cheeky remark.

He looked at me then, really looked at me and I felt increasing uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He said nothing but back away from me. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding.

"So, I'm good enough to kiss, but not good enough to fuck? Is that it Kai?" he bit out. His voice ugly and contorted his rage.

"No....I mean....oh I don't know," I gave up trying to explain. I curled my legs up, hugging them to my chest; my head resting on my knees. There was an awkward silence that descended onto the room after that. I could feel his eyes on me but I refused to meet them.

"Oh, Kai I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I just....." he trailed off in the end. He was obviously having difficulties speaking logically as well. I would have laughed but it didn't seem appropriate.