Drawing Dawn

[A/N] So I found a way around having to write any Hiroki/OC lemons. ^_^; Enjoy! I appreciate alerts and favorites like no one else, TheNoir, but reviews are in a completely different league…just so you know. :3

oOo

Something flashed through his mind just as every muscle in his body tensed for the second time. It was the same thing that he'd seen the first time, he knew that; but by the time he'd pieced the face together, he was sinking again.

It was like falling through a dream…no, it was falling. And he was already dreaming. The dream was so thickly woven that he barely felt a ripple as the softening muscle pulled out of him.

Satou was panting, but every whoosh of the man's breath on Hiroki's face seemed more and more distant by the second, until they were light puffs of breeze in a dark, warm and unbelievably comfortable world that he never wanted to leave. He kept his eyes shut long after they could open again, refusing to loosen his grip on his partner even if it was embarrassing.

He's nice anyway, some part of him was mumbling dazedly; his mind was still unfocused, the thoughts unraveling as they blossomed. He won't mind. Let's just stay like this.

I can't stay like this.

'Tired, are we?' a pleasant voice sounded from high above Hiroki. It echoed in his now silent mind for several moments before he grunted noncommittally. Almost immediately, Satou slipped out of the limp embrace and laid the younger man beside him on the bed, and Hiroki was glad he felt too sluggish to speak. I still can't figure out if he's actually considerate or just a really smooth bastard.

His eyes were still closed and he made no move to open them until the raspy warmth of the other man's breath tickled `his face again. You're going to kiss me now?

'Kamijou-kun', came the voice, deeper this time. Gentler too. Nonetheless, Hiroki shied like a startled bird at the first brush of Satou's lips on his own, and his eyes widened with a prohibition that he had not known he was feeling. Before Satou could begin to speak, he turned away and forced his eyes to close.

'I'm tired, Satou-san.' His own voice was hoarse and quiet and pulsed in time to the throbbing he felt below. '…good night.'

He sensed the man draw closer and stiffened in reluctant anticipation, but all he felt was a rough hand run through his hair, smoothing out a sweaty tangle before withdrawing. 'Good night, Kamijou-kun. My door's always open, and I mean from inside and out.'

He paused briefly before adding, 'I mean, you're free to go as well as come anytime.'

I don't know if he's a bastard or not, but the fact that he's probably done this several hundred times before still pisses me off.

Several hundred times before…how many of those times had been with virgins, like him? How many people had he practiced his seduction on before meeting Hiroki?

'Hey, Kamijou?'

Hiroki let out a 'hmm' that he hoped Satou would interpret as him being half asleep already, even though his racing heart had not quite calmed down and his mind was picking up its usual pace all too soon.

'You never gave me your first name, you know.'

Hiroki was silent for a moment; he searched for a good enough excuse, and found none. 'Well, you never gave me yours.'

'Do you want mine?' Satou asked softly. Stop talking like that. His voice was tender and made Hiroki want to sleep in it. You really are a bastard.

'If you think that's going to make me give you mine, no, thank you.' He knew he was being all too curt for someone who'd been emitting the most undignified range of sounds he'd ever heard coming from anyone just minutes ago, but he was too knocked out to care by now. He had little patience with first names.

I won't let anyone but him call me that, he thought fiercely.

There was a lull so long that Hiroki had begun praying his partner had fallen asleep. Then the serenely mellow voice spoke up again. 'Well, maybe I'll give it to you someday anyway. Oyasumi nasai, Kamijou.'

Someday?

His brain had no desire to process any of the implications behind that in its present state, but long after Satou's deep breaths had dissolved into inoffensive little snores—the one vice Hiroki found in the entire fucking evening they'd spent together—he stayed awake, listening to his own heart beating, feeling his stomach chill with the thought of what he'd just done.

And there was no denying that right up till he'd come, Akihiko had not entered his mind, not once.

Does it matter? I still came while thinking about him.

Of course I would.

Akihiko, where are you now?

oOo

Tokyo was icy as the dawn broke over his head, the sky not bright enough to fringe his hair with gold. He tried not to shiver and tried not to feel the matching chill within himself.

'Akihiko, it's cold', Hiroki whispered shakily. His breath swirled around him as he walked on. 'I want you to stroke my hair.'

He'd left Satou's apartment in the end; somewhere, he knew, the man had suspected he would anyway. That last kiss he'd almost been pulled into had crossed the line.

We're not lovers. That was clear from the start.

And still…when I was with him, I didn't have to think it was Akihiko. The mouth that had kissed him—kissed him with some delirious sort of urgency—the hands that had touched him, the arms that had held him had all been Satou's, and they had felt good.

And still…it's cold.

The cold feels like Akihiko.

By the time Hiroki had walked two-thirds of the way to his apartment, he was visibly shivering. It was with some effort that he bit back a sneeze as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

I have school today, he thought suddenly.

I just let a virtual stranger fuck me, he thought, just as suddenly.

Why is it so damn cold?

Ugh, I really am pathetic. He shook his head violently and trudged on, though he was starting to lose the feeling in his feet now and his hands had been numb for what felt like hours. The cold was spiraling through his skin, storming his heart, and yet he was sure that it was not so much the weather as his own mind causing the chill.

He smiled grimly and muttered, 'I could get used to this.'

'I wouldn't advise that', said a voice from behind him, taking him unawares.

He spun around with an exclamation. He's been following me, Satou's been following me all the way—

But the sidewalk was deserted. Hiroki's eyes darted wildly around the empty street, his heart drumming at his ribs. It's not bad enough that I tend to talk to myself, now I start hearing disembodied voices too? 'Who's there? Where are you?'

The silence welled in his ears, laughing softly.

'Satou-san?' he said, more sharply this time.

Please don't let me be insane as well as pathetic now.

'I'm here', came the voice again. This time, Hiroki identified it as coming from the alley he'd just passed, and approached it again with equal parts trepidation, annoyance and curiosity. 'Who're you now, and what d'you think you're—?'

The figure was leaning against the wall of a building and appeared to be shrouded in darkness at first; then Hiroki noticed the woolen hat pulled down to his ears, the turtleneck pulled up to his chin. From covered in darkness to covered in black, however, was not much of an improvement in the smaller man's eyes, seeing as this person was at least a couple of inches taller than him.

'Who're you?' Hiroki asked roughly.

The figure shrugged, his eyes invisible in the half-light. 'Nobody important. I just said it wouldn't be a good idea to get used to walking around like this. It—it isn't safe.'

'You're walking around, aren't you?' Hiroki pointed out, his voice brusque.

'I'm part of this place', said the figure quietly. If Hiroki didn't have the man's size right before him to suggest otherwise, he could've sworn it was the voice of a young boy. 'I've lived in Tokyo for years. I know all the people who have the potential to harm others, and they wouldn't harm me.'

What are you, a yakuza? 'Well, thanks for your concern, but I need to go. And it's none of your business whether I "get used" to walking around like this or not.'

'You're going?' The eyes shot up, and Hiroki was completely unprepared for the wave of recognition that crashed upon him. There was no mistaking that blue.

'Yeah', he said hoarsely, unable to believe it. I'm being followed all right. This isn't good. This isn't good. This— 'See you.' Or not.

'Wait!'

Despite himself, Hiroki did not break out into a run, but looked back at the shadow with disbelief that was targeted just as much at himself as at the other person.

'You're cold, aren't you?'

'That's none of your business!' he snapped, a welcome tinge of heat spilling into his cheeks. 'I'll be fine, just get the fuck away from—'

'Take this.'

Again, he told himself that he was waiting against his will, that he was only staying where he was because he was so goddamn cold, but when the stranger approached him with an inaudible, almost feline tread his heart gave a leap regardless of the reason.

Something flat and woolly was pressed into his hands. 'Here.'

He looked down and saw a pair of gloves peeking out between his numb-knuckled fingers. He looked up and into the eyes that he'd remembered so well, and they no longer frightened him.

They just irritated him.

'Stop trying to play the hero.' He could barely feel the gloves as he held them out. 'It's freezing and I don't know you from Adam. What're you trying to pull?'

'You're cold', said the man-boy simply. The longer he spoke and the longer Hiroki kept looking into those eyes, the certain he was that he was indeed speaking to a boy, probably no older than fourteen. 'I'm not cold', he continued, voice still low and sincere and everything that Hiroki had not found in Satou's calculated tones. 'My hands are always warm. See?'

The heat that wrapped around Hiroki's fingers for a too-brief moment was so intense and glorious that the man nearly moaned. Before the cold could slip back into him, though, the larger pair of hands were back, pushing his nerveless ones into the black wool with patient care.

'Keep them, please.' Why are you smiling? 'Frostbite isn't pretty, I can promise you that.' Why are you doing this? Who are you?

Thank you?

Thank—

'I should be going now', was what actually came out of Hiroki's mouth. The blue eyes were unreadable as the dark head nodded.

'Okay. See you.'

Without warning, the warmth was now on his head, the long fingers combing through Hiroki's tousled hair. It was searing hot where he felt the skin brush directly against his forehead as the boy withdrew his hand, and he fought against the suddenly overwhelming desire to close his eyes and lean into the touch that had sucked away every bit of the cold in him.

'It's all right', said the boy. Why are you smiling?

Who are you?

'Bye', said Hiroki quietly. He tried and failed not to look over his shoulder several times as he walked the rest of the way back home.

When he finally fell into bed, almost weepy with exhaustion, he was asleep before he could even take the gloves off.