Shadows of Yesterday

Pairing: KazuyaxKyoshiro
Warning: Yaoi, incest, masturbation, shota depending on how you read it.
Word Count: 954

Disclaimer: I own nothing in connection with Kyoshiro to Towa no Sora, nor do I make any money through writing this fanfiction.

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Shadows of Yesterday

He's still there, even though you know he's physically gone. There's still a presence which remains around you, which cocoons and suffocates, which you need. You smooth down your clothing and sort out your hair in the morning, look into the mirror and there he is; standing a few feet behind you as he looks over your shoulders with a small smile of approval. When you come back, you take off your shoes and place them a certain distance from the door. Otherwise they would be where Kazuya puts his, and those need to be closer to the door because he leaves before you. He has important things to do.

When you're alone and can't see anybody no matter how much you look around, he's still there. You can feel him close when you're scribbling on papers or listening to the latest drone of news. He becomes stronger the darker the evening gets. Eventually you really can't help but get tired and most of the time you manage to drag yourself to bed before your body gives up and collapses into sleep.

Then you feel him. A watchful eye as your head sinks into the pillow and the cover moulds itself over your form. A smile as the buzzing thoughts of enraged revenge become dulled and you can finally grab that short time of sleep.

Soft whispers are in your ear of all the things he used to say about the Absolute Angels, all the wonderful-sounding research which surrounds them and the name you won't let anybody but him call you by;

"Shiro."

You can still feel those words brushing against your ear as they are carried on his warm breath. They skim over your earlobes, which you are suddenly so aware of as they heat up, then dip in; an almost mirror reflection of the fingertips you can feel which are only just making contact with you.

Those fingertips move over you, sometimes pressing down hard, sometimes hardly making contact at all. It all has the desired effect of making your eyelids flutter, your breath hitch harshly in your throat and your chest rise higher than it usually does. They know exactly where to go and what to do; perfectly playing you.

And you let it. Because this is the lifeline you cling to and the memory which drives your actions the next morning when you wake up to find yourself tangled in your own bed sheets and know you must go into the outside world which will not recognise the sacrifices Kazuya made.

You allow your eyes to close completely, shutting off everything but yourself and him. Those touches are the only thing you feel, brushing so quickly over your stomach to make the nerves laying underneath your flesh quiver. It's drawn out, teasing and frustrating, and you can see Kazuya's teeth as his mouth cracks open into a grin beneath hooded eyes. He continues to speak your name, drawing out the vowels as he does.

"Shiiiiro. Shiiirooo."

He always teases, then laughs and waves it off as something which a big sibling does, something which is practically his right as the elder. You feel a whine slip from your throat, clench your teeth and pull your lips back into what you hope is a snarl.

But it never works the way you want it to. Never. Instead it seems to drive him on to keep touching you in that way, which you want but don't need. Brushing over your stomach, gripping your hips and rubbing your thighs. Everywhere and anywhere except where you feel so hot and so wanting.

In spite of all that whining and all those hopes that he will stop that damn teasing, you never quite realise that he has grabbed your cock right away until you feel him squeeze and your hips leave the dampening sheets. He's so damn good at wrapping you tightly in that web of inflamed nerves and shuddering skin. Then, in one fluid motion, he yanks you out and it's always too late to stop your cry.

There's a burning sensation which rises in your chest because no matter how fast you pant or how hard you try to control it you can never breathe quickly enough. He rubs you hard, setting a fast movement which is occasionally interrupted by knuckles kneading into your balls or a squeeze and a rub at the tip which makes you yelp.

He has done what you wanted, but still knows how to take his teasing that little bit further. You know it in the way it feels as he touches you, moving his hand up and down, and because you can still see that smile burned into the back of your eyelids.

There are whimpers and moans which you are only just aware of in the back of your mind, yet you know they come from your own throat. You still feel so needy, even as he rubs hard, has your hips move up and down and your breath struggle to keep up with itself. And perhaps it's that which causes you to feel a wetness suddenly spread itself over the palm of your hand much sooner than you ever would have wanted and your breath is released all in one go. You feel your face burn in embarrassment and shame because you know he's still watching you. You can still see his smile.

You can feel the liquid cause your hand to become sticky and you know you should wash it. But that would mean having to open your eyes and the last thing you want is to take yourself out of the world you keep immersing yourself in.

But, sooner or later, you must.

END