Disclaimer: Beyblade and 'At A Glance' do not belong to me...though I'd be a much richer person if either of them did.
Author's Note: Well, now I'm in writing mode, so on with the ficcage! Why all the Tyson-torture, you ask? I seriously have no idea. I guess I'm just twisted. Who knows, maybe I'll be inspired to give Tyson a little bit of happiness, later.
In the meantime, enjoy this nasty little piece of pseudo non-conyaoi-ness, brought to you courtesyof my chief inspirations: Coffee and 'Slipshine' comics! is a caffeinated pervert
"What if I could go to sleep for days, would you count the hours,
or would your restlessness consume fading memories of me?
Fall into open arms that offer their protection.
Quick to deny that they're open to deceit." - A.F.I., 'At a Glance'
Rough, broad hands push him up against the wall. His back slams into the concrete with a sickening thud, but the pain is the furthest thing from his mind.
Chapped lips capture his and a blood red tongue darts out to twine around his own, pinker one.
Their bodies are flush against each other and clothing is quickly done away with, as if it never existed at all. Then there's a fist around his hardened length and he bites back a cry as a cool voice whispers in his ear: "I don't love you…"
"…I need you."
And Tyson sleeps.