AN Finally, the sequel to Addiction. It took a while before I knew how to continue this. It's a little different from the rest. I was shaving a hard time holding on to the style of the prequels. It did turn out rather nicely I think. Hope you think so too.
About Addiction, it was Kai sitting on the cliff at the beginning, probably thinking about his relationship with Tyson, but I'm just guessing here. It could be something else on his mind.
Dark clouds hid the stars and moon. The air was humid, promising rain, yet for now nothing had fallen. The streets were empty. No-one in the suburbs had any business still outside. The streetlights were burning on half capacity, because of the time.
Yet not all slept. Feet padded silently on the wooden floor, past irregular lumps towards the exit. Soundlessly the panel-door open was pushed open, a figure slipping through and closing it behind him. The cold night air raised hairs, tingling on the skin. The figure shrugged in his sweater, quickly tying up the shoelaces. It was just another night, the weather wasn't of any importance.
It was his goal. The spell, the seductive music, the enchanting body in his arms. Sometimes he fleetingly wished he was the one to surrender, sink away in the other's arms, let himself be guided. Yet he always ended up being the guide himself. Why was that? Where did the sudden hesitance come from at the moment he could decide?
These and more thoughts flitted through his mind, never really being considered. Only one thing held his foremost interest. And he was headed right for it.
Another figure in the dark dojo stirred. Rolling to his feet he moved to the door as well.
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere, Max. Go back to sleep." Dark blue eyes silently implored the intruder of his nightly routine to obey the request.
"Where's Kai?" Apparently the intruder wouldn't be discouraged.
"Out," was the weary answer. "I'm just going to get him. Don't worry. It's fine."
The intruder laid down again. The figure resumed his path to the door.
"Where do you always go at night?"
Tyson froze. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.
A yawn came. Then, "I've noticed a couple of nights you and Kai are gone. A long time. Where do you go?"
A sigh. "I can't tell you, Max. Not without consulting Kai first. Don't worry, though. It's nothing dangerous, or illegal."
Silence hung between the two.
"If you say so."
Tyson sighed again. Omitting the truth was not into his character. Usually he would come right out and tell the truth, without twisting a word. But this wasn't just about him. It involved Kai as well, more even.
He silently walked out, closing the door behind him, shutting that out of his mind for the time. With a heavy heart he walked along the streets, following his partner in crime.
It was like a dance. The whole ordeal was one elaborate dance, of chase, find and seduce. And it was all so exhilarating. He had been drawn into the game by the other and now could no longer resist the pull of it. Not that he ever tried to. In fact, in some ways he may have instigated it.
Cold, empty buildings loomed, observing as first one, then the other half of the partnership passed. Even at that distance the cord between was tangible, almost visible. They had weaved a web around each other, and were now too ensnared in it to ever hope to escape. So they surrendered.
The familiar beat filled them, the heavy bass vibrating in their chests. Moving in unity their hearts sped, pumping blood through their bodies at an insane speed, heating their skin, building up sweat. Breath mingled, fingers gripped hair, clothes, keeping them as close together as possible.
Tyson's lips were rough, chapped from the cold, beneath Kai's equally chapped lips. They weren't perfect. Not soft and sweet and romantic. In fact, they probably had one of the most warped relationships two people could have. Yet it was what they needed. What they craved for.
Kai clutched on to Tyson's shoulders desperately. Tyson returned the pressure around Kai's chest. Holding on to each other they danced through the night, until the undefined time to leave arrived.
The streets were deserted, the lights dimmed. The cold rendered their breaths to puffy clouds. Clouds that mingled as they leaned closer and let their lips touch again. Bodies pressed close together they shielded themselves from the chill. Kissing almost desperately they stumbled a few steps, but they realized they had to let go to be able to walk home.
Haste was in their walk, hands clutching clothing, chests heaving with exertion and expectation. Pulling each other along they arrived at the dojo, heading straight upstairs. Tyson buried his face in the crook of Kai's neck as hands wandered down his back, fingers slipping underneath the top edge of his pants.
The bed was warm and inviting. Collapsing on it they struggled to shed each other's clothes. Bodies pressed close, moving in harmony until, first one then the other, they shuddered in climax, swallowing each other's cries of ecstacy.
It took a while before they had recovered enough to withdraw from each other to lie side by side on the narrow bed, shoulders touching.
"We should wash up."
"Yeah."
Yet they remained motionless.
It wasn't until Tyson's eyelids started to droop, that Kai decided they should really get back. Hoisting up his bedmate, he pulled the other along to the bathroom. Washing themselves and each other, they made quick work of their shower. Again the sheets were pulled from the bed and stuffed in the washer. It wouldn't do for an old grandfather to find semen stains on a bed that was supposed to be unoccupied. Dressing up they headed back to the dojo again, crawling underneath their covers.
A blond young man slowly wandered into the wooden building. He was still a bit unsure about his friends's behavior. He had noticed their disappearance for several nights now. And it seemed it had been going on for much longer. Their movements were confident, familiar. But where did they go? And why Kai and Tyson? What bound them together?
He wandered into the hallway and headed to the livingroom. He had a hunch his friend might be there. His eyes flitted over the decorations on the walls, lingering on pictures of Kinomiya relatives or Beyblade tournaments. He was stalling, unwilling to face his friend and ask the questions that were bugging him. The bluenette might be offended by them. And he didn't want to cause a rift between the two of them.
Yet he was concerned. He wasn't sure when it started happening, but some time ago he had observed a slow change taking place in his friend's behavior. The change was slight, and progressing so slowly, it had to have been going on much longer than what Max had seen. He couldn't quite put his finger on it either. It was something in the young man's eyes. His stance and movements as he went about his daily routines. He thought that, when he looked hard enough, he could see a little something from their stoic captain in the most energetic member of the team.
Socked feet made no noise as he glided across the floorboards. The entrance to the livingroom neared. No sounds from radio or television came from there. Carefully peeking around the corner, the blond froze.
He saw his dark haired friend sitting cross-legged on the couch, head bent low over a manga on his lap. That in itself was not so shocking. What was, however, so surprising, was the duel toned head of hair, right next to one of Tyson's bent knees. Kai appeared to be cleaning his blade, checking his attack-ring for any damage, reinstalling his bitchip securely.
Their proximity was a novelty. They didn't go out fo their way to avoid each other, but Kai simply wasn't one to be in close company with someone for an extended period of time.
A blue piece of metal clicked into place. A page was turned. Tan fingers crept into dark hair, fingertips moving in tiny circles to massage the scalp. Kai leaned back into the touch, his hands falling still.
Light blue widened as they saw this interaction. It spoke of a familiarity and trust that had to have been building for a long time. Blade and comic were now forgotten, one concentrating solely on the feeling of dark hair slipping between his fingers, the other on the slow movements on his scalp.
Feeling an invader the blond young man silently turned and slipped away, leaving his teammates to themselves.
Tyson let dark hair slide between his fingers. It felt good. Soft and smooth. The comic fell from his lap as he leaned forward, catching sight of half-lidded eyes and parted lips. The hand fisted in dark hair, turning faces to each other. Two pairs of eyes closed as they kissed. A simple touch of lips on lips, lacking the frantic longing of the night.
Legs uncurled to support the body that slid off the couch to settle next to the second one without breaking contact. They had become good at that. Arms reached out to bring their bodies closer even, sinking in each other's embrace.
Silence settled again, only broken by the faint whirring of a blade from outside.