Title: Reaching Souls and Joined Hands (1/1)
Romance/NC-17 (for sex, slash, HJ, oral, anal, and foul language. The usual for a slash fan.)
Intimacy is a strange thing – one that is defined differently by so many. To some, it's the big things that are considered intimate. And yet, for others – it's the little details that tell the tale. Things like stolen kisses, lingering caresses, or even just a simple thing like holding hands. To some, there are the true things that demonstrate intimacy.
Time Line:
June 30th, 2500 A.S. (Happy birthday, Sin!) 20 years after Ice and Drastic.
Sin – 500 years; Draca – 145 years; Kira – 33 years; Gwen – 60 years; Kyris – 84 years

Let there be gay pr0n, Ladies and Gentlemen! Unless you're not a slash fan. If so, then get out, before you scar yourself.

Reaching Souls and Joined Hands

"Passion is the quickest to develop, and the quickest to fade. Intimacy develops more slowly, and commitment more gradually still."

Intimacy. What is it? One of life's countless mysteries; there are as many answers to that question as there are people to ask it. To many, the romantic sort of intimacy is and will always be equated with sex. Sex, they say, is the closest, most involved experience one can share with another.

Sin disagrees with these people wholeheartedly.

He does not deny that sex can be the most intimate experience a person can have. In terms of the act alone, however, sex proved a practical purpose. Reproduction, in the purely biological sense. Otherwise, it provided a necessary release of tension and hormones that every being fell victim to eventually. It can be intimate – tender, slow, loving. Or it can be pure need and lust – hard, fast, primal. So when it comes to the form of intimacy, Sin thinks sex is the farthest from the truth.

So what is intimacy to Sin?

Intimacy, in his opinion, was found in life's details. It was in the things that outsiders would miss. It was in the obscenely comfortable way a person could become around another. Intimacy made him uncomfortable, though he tried to hide that fact. It was that very same closeness; that lack of privacy and space that irked him.

Or, at least, it had. He'd encountered that suffocating feeling of intimacy so many times that he seemed to be building an immunity to it.

Intimacy was in the way that Draca had to touch him from time to time. He'd long since grown used to the innocent brush of fingers against his shoulder, back, or wherever else the Vampyre could reach at any given time. The barely-there caresses were always hesitant, questioning, and hopeful – as if Draca were unsure he allowed to touch Sin, or as if Sin would disappear if he didn't. It sprung from childhood trauma, he knew. He'd had the misfortune of discovering it. People couldn't stand to be touched by "monsters," after all.

Intimacy was when Sin realized he didn't mind the caresses much.

Intimacy was in the way, just before the thief dispersed into shadows, Draca would steal a kiss from him – no more than chaste. The Vampyre seemed to enjoy it twice as much when there was a chance that someone else might notice, and he'd have to be sneaky about it.

Intimacy was how Draca would answer with a "yeah, babe?" whenever he called for the man. Even in public. No matter how many times Sin glowered at him for it.

Intimacy was when he finally got rid of his old choker, and how Draca spent what seemed like hours running his lips over the now permanently bare skin when he noticed the change.

Intimacy was in the way Draca would appear before his desk when he'd been working for hours at a time to distract him in any way possible.

Intimacy was when Sin realized he had a habit of reaching for the Aodhan crystal the moment the two of them entered the flat, simply because Draca despised the cold.

Intimacy was in the way Draca would curl around Sin after drinking his fill of the seraph's blood… regardless of where they happened to be – bed, sofa, chair, even the floor. And he wouldn't move until Sin forced him to.

Intimacy was in how long it took Sin to remember to do so.

Intimacy was when Draca discovered that despite his scars, the nerves in the flesh where his wings had been were still very much alive. He discovered just how overwhelmingly good it felt for even the softest of kisses and caresses to be bestowed upon the old scars.

Intimacy was in the way the Vampyre discovered it was a double-edged sword. When a bounty hunter got a lucky shot in, slashing the aged scar tissue at his back. All it took was an utterly anguished cry of pain from him before Draca came swooping down on the hapless bastard in an uncharacteristic fury.

Intimacy was in the way Draca held him close after the man had been ripped to shreds by shadow-lengthened claws, and tried desperately to sooth his tortured cries and whimpers. He didn't let go, even after the Glyph had healed his wounds.

Intimacy was how, on particularly cold nights at home, Draca would slip into his bed to settle beside him – practically on top of him – with no more of an explanation than: "It's fucking freezing."

Intimacy was in the way Sin soon loathed to force him out.

Intimacy was how cold nights became most nights, and how most nights became every night.

Intimacy was when Sin finally broke down and bought a bigger bed.

Intimacy was in those infrequent nights when Sin was awoken by Draca's nightmares, and would pull him close and whisper into his ear without waking him.

Intimacy was how the sleeping Vampyre would calm at his soft, nonsensical murmurs, the course of his dreams changing with Sin's voice alone.

Intimacy was in the kiss planted on Sin's scarred cheek and the accompanying "G'morning…" whenever the man dragged himself back into the land of the waking. Regardless if it was morning or not. (Their sleep schedules were only consistent for a short time, if ever.)

There were so many little details that continued to hint at romantic intimacy. But despite all the signs, the Fallen One chose to ignore them. Such closeness – such intimacy – had no place in his life. It shouldn't have a place in his life, especially with what he was and his chosen profession.

Not two decades ago, that's exactly what Sin would have said.

Now he wasn't so sure.

A barrier had crumbled between them – or at least cracked – when Gwen had left the Haven. (She still returned every few months to check up on her shop, but she no longer made her home there.) Draca felt closer to him now. So unbearably, breathlessly close that Sin felt oddly vulnerable simply being in the Vampyre's presence. But still he refused to admit how much less like partners and how much more like lovers they'd become.

And so, approximately twenty years after the entire mess had began, the ability to deny it was yanked from him. On his birthday no less – as utterly cliché was that was. It was his five hundredth birthday and, of course, leave it to Draca – the infuriating, insatiable idiot – to twist that to his own advantage. Kyris, Gwen, and Kira were most definitely in on it as well. All of his gifts had been highly embarrassing, and he didn't need vision to sense the pointed grins being sent toward the Vampyre.

No sooner than they crossed the threshold of his (their) flat did he find himself pinned against the wall nearest to the door, and lips swooped down to clash with his own. Sin had been expecting it – he'd Seen the red-orange and crimson of lust and longing dance about Draca's soul long before this. He was ready for the Vampyre's pleasurable assault. His hands instantly weaved through the thief's hair and tugged him closer, his mouth moving eagerly against the other's. It was lusty, passionate, heated, and utterly addicting. It was a kiss that promised a thousand more delightful things to come. Draca's body was flush against his own, pressing him against the wall. Those thin lips teased his, mouth dropping open so that quicksilver tongue could sweep languidly into Sin's mouth. Sin couldn't hide the resulting shiver or the way his breathing became harsher under the ravaging kiss.

The Vampyre pulled him away from the wall, long arms wrapped about his trim waist and lifting him higher so they were both more comfortable. (Even though he was only about a head taller than Sin was, damn him.) Their entangling liplock didn't break once, even though Sin tried in vain to pull away as they were suddenly engulfed in shadow. That same horrifying, suffocating feeling washed over him for only a brief moment before he was free again. Sin growled in disapproval – he hated it when the Vampyre did that – and sucked harshly on Draca's tongue in retaliation. All he was given in response was a muffled chuckle as he was slowly guided backwards through their new location.

They were in his bedroom (theirs, now) on the second floor. The edge of the bed touched the back of Sin's legs, and he didn't stop them from tumbling onto the large bed with a whisper of rustling cloth. It was only then, when they'd shifted fully onto the mattress, that Draca broke the kiss. Draca loomed over Sin, balanced on his hands and knees, and simply looked at him. The Fallen Angel could almost feel that lusty gaze on his skin. He fought to suppress a shiver as the Vampyre's spirit began to whirl in that mysterious whirlwind of Color. The light that emanated from it pulsed like a heartbeat. It was chaotic and soft and intense and all for him. The weight of that knowledge was too much for Sin. He fought not to squirm under that gaze.

His hand shot up to grasp Draca's lapel, pulling his lithe form down. Draca obliged him, coming nose-to-nose with him. Warm breaths fanned softly over his face and neck. "Finish what you started, Vampyre." He'd meant it to be a stern command, but his voice came out in a whisper that bordered on breathy.

Draca hummed, tongue darting out to run over Sin's bottom lip before capturing his lips for a lazy moment. Lips trailed across his jaw, pausing only to suck at the tender flesh where jaw met neck. "You doubt me?" the Vampyre murmured between kisses.

"You? Always." Sin's sarcastic chuckle transformed into a contented sigh as searing kisses trailed down his neck. Those thin lips alternated between sucking and running fangs delicately over tender flesh. Sin turned his head to give the Vampyre more room to work and couldn't stop his hands from running through Draca's hair or down his clothed back. He just had to touch the man. Draca's hands responded in kind, lifting the hem of his shirt and caressing their way up his chest under cloth and mesh.

The mouth that had closed around the ridge of his collarbone suddenly left him. The seraph watched as Draca slithered down his body to hover over his abdomen. A light brush of warm breath against his skin caused him to arch expectantly towards that wicked mouth. Lips descended upon his stomach, tongue tracing the hard lines of muscle and dipping into his navel. A whisper-like moan left his lips as the soft pinprick of fangs grazed his flesh. That talented mouth roved his flesh with an easy familiarity, finding all the right places to nip, suck, and caress. The Vampyre's hands pushed his vest and mesh shirt higher, his mouth leisurely following the trail of newly bared skin – rather than heading south like Sin wanted him to.

Sin cringed at the pleasurable shivers that coursed through him. This was too slow. Too at ease. Too familiar and intimate. Why couldn't Draca just fuck him hard and fast and leave him breathless and sated?

It was at that moment that the thief settled flush against him, thin body cradled between Sin's legs and hips pressing deliciously against his clothed hard-on. "Mmmm…" His hips arched into the other's with a soft moan. It quickly became a gasp as Draca pushed the fabric high up his chest, mouth closing deviously around a nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. The assassin's hand clenched in the short hair at Draca's nape, unsure whether to force him away or draw him closer. It took his lust-addled brain a long moment to decide – too occupied with the delicious friction and trying desperately to get more oxygen into his lungs.

"Nngh… damn it," Sin panted, tugging insistently at the Vampyre's hair. "Get up here." Draca released the hardened peak with smirk and a final nip. The seraph's hand in his hair guided him back to Sin's lips. Sin was quick to take control of the kiss, nipping aggressively at the other's lips. His free hand came up to claw open the fastenings of the Vampyre's black duster, darting inside to start work on Draca's belt. "Now," Sin commanded with a demonstrative tug at his partner's pants. There was an answering groan against his mouth before Draca set to work on Sin's clothes.

The barrier of clothing was daunting and downright annoying. Both were too eager to contact skin with skin. But even still, the process of removing each other's clothes was a slow one. They became distracted with each new portion of flesh bared to the cool air, caressing heatedly with hands and mouths. Time was irrelevant. It could have taken minutes. It could have taken hours. Neither cared.

Once they were finally naked Draca took a long moment to stare at him, his spirit whirling and pulsing. Sin was too enthralled with watching the Vampyre's soul to feel uncomfortable with those eyes on his bare form.

Draca lowered himself to lie against Sin, soft sounds of pleasure escaping both of them as their bodies pressed flush against one another's. The thief placed heated, lingering kisses on his lips. "You're so… fucking gorgeous," Draca murmured between kisses. Sin shuddered, caught between pleasure and discomfort at the words. Why did the idiot have to say things like that?

The next instant destroyed his previous discomfort, only to replace it with a much greater one. Lips still dancing with his, Draca's hand darted down to intertwine with Sin's own. His captured hand was lifted up and back to rest against the sheets near his head, fingers laced with the Vampyre's and palms touching gently. The seraph's distracted mind wasn't quick enough to process the action, and by the time the panicked embarrassment set in it was already too late.

His head snapped to the side, eyes wide and hand trying desperately to untangle from the other's. It proved to be hopeless, as Draca's grip only tightened around his struggling hand – just enough to subdue him, but not enough to cause any physical discomfort. Sin's heart was doing a feverish dance in his chest, his breath hitching and faltering. He could feel the disgraceful heat of his face and knew Draca could too – if the smirk being pressed against his throat was any indication. All he could See before him were their Colors sliding just a hair's breadth apart. His body trembled almost violently a mere moment later as their Colors seemed to reach out and tangle and twist together.

'Oh Gaia…'

"Is it really that shocking?" Sin jumped at the sudden sound of Draca's husky drawl so close to his ear.

He squirmed. It was too much. There was no space – no room to breathe. 'Too close!'

"L-Let go." He inwardly winced at the tremor in his voice.

His partner scoffed lightly. "Only if you give me a really good reason to."

He couldn't. The seraph could barely get his mind to work properly, let alone form words. What reason could he give? That this was too intimate? Too much like lovers? That the intensity and implications of that thought actually scared him a little?

Long fingers took hold of his chin, gently turning his head so lips could brush soothingly against his. "You think too much, baby," Draca told him, "Just relax." The Vampyre commenced a slow, torturous journey of lips, tongue, and teeth down his neck. "Just lie back and enjoy, okay?"


That mouth paused just before it attacked his collarbone, the man's spirit blooming in sky blue amusement and yellow-green annoyance through the whirlwind. "It's your birthday, yeah? So stop thinking and enjoy it for once."

Sin really couldn't argue with that, especially as Draca went back to the slow worshipping of his body. To his astonishment, his hand instinctively squeezed Draca's in contented pleasure. After that the world fell away – reduced to the sensations of stroking fingers and exploring lips on his skin traveling lower and lower. The hand intertwined with his never lessened its grip, merely guiding their joined hands down the bed. The seraph was caught somewhere between panic and pleasure. The teasing ministrations left him in a fog of sighs and breathy moans, arching into the other with every caress.

On the other hand, the unyielding grip of Draca's hand sent his mind into a frenzy. No matter how many times he tried to escape, he was unable to. He couldn't block out the suffocating closeness of the action. Every time he so much as glanced in the direction of their joined hands, all he could See were their twisting, tangling Colors. A shudder ripped through him at the thought.

Draca had nibbled his way down to his hipbone, taking great satisfaction in the little marks that he left in his wake. Their joined hands came to rest on the sheets near Sin's hip, hand unfolded but for their linked fingers. The Vampyre's long fingers momentarily tightened around his, mouth moving steadily lower. The assassin's body tensed and arched in anticipation.

He was somewhat prepared for the barely-there brush of lips on the tip of his cock, the only sound escaping him a shaky and sharp exhale. Sin felt Draca's eyes on him, sensing the disapproving frown. The thief's free hand stroked his hip, coaxing. "No holding back," he murmured. That wicked tongue darted out to taste him, lapping at the beading precum. This time Sin couldn't stop the soft moan that erupted from his lips. It quickly grew louder as the Vampyre closed his mouth around his arousal, encasing him in delicious wet heat.

"A-Ah…" A firm hand on his hip kept the seraph from bucking. His hands clenched into fabric and around his partner's fingers, his back arching in bliss. His thoughts all but shattered, only aware of how Draca applied a steady suction and how he slowly took in as much of Sin's erection as he was capable. Then Draca began to bob his head, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that left him writhing for more.

That talented mouth took him in until he could feel his length touch the back of Draca's throat, sliding back up with a firm suck and tongue all but dancing along the underside of his cock. That quicksilver tongue would press sensually into his slit, giving the head an extra hard suck, before starting the process all over again.

It was enough to drive him insane. All troubling thoughts of intimacy were gone from his mind.

"G-god – nngh! D-Draca…" Sin craned his head back, his body beginning to tremble under the assault. His hand shifted to rest in Draca's wild hair, his remaining will focused on not tugging painfully at it or bucking up into that sweet heat. He barely noticed when the thief's hand released his hip, reaching away for something his shadows had retrieved for him. Sin flinched when that hand returned a moment later, slick and pressing teasingly against his entrance.

The small ceramic pot of lube that Gwen had "graciously" gifted him that evening – made from her own store of herbs, no less – was sitting innocently on the bed. (It wasn't the first time he'd received one of these. The little pots had a habit of mysteriously appearing in the flat whenever she was in town, the sneaky brat.)

Draca's mouth took that instant to quicken the pace, effectively distracting him as a single slick digit slipped into him, another following moments later. The discomfort that came with the action was something he'd grown used to, and the sudden surge of pleasure made it nearly unnoticeable. The scissoring and thrusting of those fingers inside him, combined with the absolutely devilish things that mouth was doing to his cock, proved to be too much for his will. He couldn't halt the sudden jerk of his hips. Draca moved with him, keeping himself from choking.

After another moment or two of the torturous double-stimulation, the man released his arousal with an obscene pop! A sound halfway between a whine and a snarl escaped his lips. The Vampyre merely chuckled huskily in response, slithering back up Sin's body. The man's fingers thrust deeper into him – stretching, searching.

"Ah!" The sudden cry was ripped from him as Draca's fingers found his prostate, his body shuddering and thrusting back against them. His captured hand clenched around Draca's, the other trying to reach for any part of the thin body that he could touch. A third digit worked gently into him, pausing to give him a moment to adjust.

It annoyed him.

"Keep going," he growled, hips pushing back insistently. The slight burning pain was nothing to him. He didn't need to be treated gently or with care – like he was made of glass.

Draca kissed his temple – just because he knew how much it annoyed him. "If I don't do this now, it'll hurt twice as much later."

"I don't care."

"But I do."

The words made something inside his chest squirm. 'Don't say things like that so carelessly, idiot!' Sin didn't have the chance to say it, however, as the Vampyre resumed the thrusting of his fingers once more. His words were immediately lost – the only sound leaving his mouth was an incoherent groan. He spread his legs wider for the man, hooking one around the back of Draca's thighs. With every thrust those fingers brushed over that bundle of nerves. His mind fogged with pleasure, a tingling sensation appearing at the base of his skull and disappeared as fast as it came. Sin's lusty moans were muffled as Draca claimed his lips in a stream of open mouthed kisses.

Sin couldn't take it anymore. "Ah…! Fuck me. Now," he barely managed to gasp between kisses.

"So… impatient."

"Now, Draca."

"Not yet, baby." Draca silenced any further protest with a firm kiss, tongue plundering his mouth. But the Fallen Angel was far too stubborn to let it end there. He reached out with his free hand for the ceramic pot that was still there. A generous amount was discretely scooped into his hand. The thief was too distracted with his preparations, believing Sin to be completely at his mercy.

Sin was all too happy to correct him.

He felt the jolt that went through Draca's body as his slick hand encased his partner's shaft. A low groan rumbled out of the man's chest, hips arching into his hand. Sin smirked and broke the kiss, continuing to slick Draca's erection. "Now," he repeated.

"Nnn… pushy bastard…!"

"Draacccaaaa…" he all but purred the man's name.

"Ugh… fine…" Draca removed his fingers from Sin, swatting the seraph's hand away. The Vampyre drew back from him, and the raven-haired man swallowed a disapproving keen. He missed the warmth of his thief already, but refused to voice it. He was too eager for what was next. He wanted Draca inside him. He wanted Draca to fuck him into the mattress until he couldn't even remember his name anymore.

"Oh god, baby…" Draca's spirit was practically dancing with swirling emotions, though he couldn't discern the reason behind the sudden spike in activity. Had his desires shown in his expression?

The hand wrapped around his untangled from their loose hold. Sin paused. He'd entirely forgotten that Draca had been holding his hand – not once releasing him. He'd been so incredibly uncomfortable with it. But now…

His hand felt cold now that Draca's wasn't there to warm it. For once, the typical surge of relief that always came after the Vampyre gave up the intimate contact wasn't there. He wasn't relieved by the sudden freedom – not at all. No, in fact he felt-

'Empty,' his astonished mind supplied for him. 'Like I actually miss it.'

The swirling and pulsing of the spirit above him was so intense, though the reason why eluded him completely. The same hand that had just left his grip patted his hip. "Turn over."

Sin obeyed without protest, too eager for release. Hands grasped his waist as he turned, steadying him tugging him onto his hands and knees. The seraph shivered in rapture as lips pressed into the small of his back and trekked slowly up his spine, worshipping each vertebra. The higher those lips traveled, the more violent his shivers became. The delightful caresses paused just before they reached his shoulder blades – and the all too sensitive scars upon them. Sin couldn't stop his sound of disappointment, but it turned into a ragged moan as Draca's arousal pressed against his ass. His hips rolled back into it. An echoing groan reached his ears, thumbs trailing over his hips in lazy circles. "You ready?"

"Yesss…" Sin hissed back.

Draca entered him slowly – carefully – his cock sliding deliciously into his tight body. There was pain, yes, but pain Sin could handle. The seraph kept his breathing deep and even, and forced his body to relax. The Vampyre paused when seated fully inside him, waiting for the Fallen One to adjust. Sin started to squirm; started to protest the gentle treatment when his world abruptly exploded in a pleasurable fire. Draca had stooped down to brush his lips ever-so-softly over the scars on his back. Over and over again.

"Oh-!" Every nerve ending in Sin's body suddenly ignited. White flashed behind his eyes, drowning out his Sight as his hips slammed back onto Draca's cock and his body arched up into those sinful lips. His limbs trembling violently – pushed shockingly close to the brink of climax by a few well-placed kisses. "God – oh god!" Only one of Draca's hands at his chest kept him from collapsing onto the bed. The other was making a slow trek towards his pulsing cock.

"Ha," the thief laughed breathlessly, warm air fanning over the scars and making him thrash in ecstasy. "I bet I could make you come with just this." His hand was an instant away from stroking Sin to completion.

"N-No!" Reality caught up with him. His body tried to simultaneously arch away from both hand and mouth, failing miserably. "No, no, no… not-nngh!"

"Hm?" Draca slid up his back, resting his chin on Sin's shoulder. "What's wrong, babe?"

The seraph faltered, his dazed brain unable to grasp at words. "N-Not… like that. I… don't… I…"

'I want to feel you as you fuck me senseless. I want you to come inside me – I want us to come together…'

The Vampyre's breath hitched, a tiny gasp brushing his skin. "Okay," Draca whispered, pressing soothing kisses into his shoulder. "Okay."

And so they waited. They waited as Sin gradually returned from the edge of release, the rapturous tremors of his body fading. His thoughts were clear again, very aware of how the form of his partner was tense and trembling. Haggard gasps fanned hotly against his skin. Draca was desperately trying to restrain himself for him. Sin's lips quirked up into a tiny smile at the realization. He shifted his weight onto one arm, the other reaching up to tangle in Draca's wild hair. He turned to press his lips to the side of Draca's head, just behind an ear, hips rolling back in short thrusts. The thief's moan was muffled against his shoulder, the man bucking into the movement.

"Move," Sin rasped.

"Fuck, yes." One long arm braced beside him, supporting the thief's weight, while the other descended from the seraph's chest to intertwine their hands once more upon the bed. The shock of tender pleasure that the action caused amazed him. His fingers immediately squeezed around them, this time without protest.

Their rhythm started slow – merely delicate rolls of their hips moving together. It was an almost teasing pace, the exquisite friction sending shivers of pleasure through both of them. Sin's entire body seemed to throb and shake – hyper-sensitive after the assault on his scars. He was barely aware of the needy whimpers he made – too enthralled by the feel of Draca moving inside him.

It wasn't enough. His entire body was a quivering mess, but it still wasn't enough. Sin tugged lightly at Draca's hair, getting the Vampyre's attention.

"Harder." His voice was a mere whimper – needy and desperate. He no longer cared.

Teeth nipped his ear, sending relentless shivers down Sin's spine. "What was that?" He could feel the smirk being pressed there. "I didn't quite catch it." Sin knew better. He knew that Draca had heard him, and he knew what Draca wanted to hear. He gave it to him.

"Please!" he hissed. He was too far gone for something like pride to have any hold over him. "Harder! Fuck – Draca, please!"

The Vampyre moaned softly into his ear. But at that same exact moment-

'Gaia, I love it when you beg.' Confusion knifed through his pleasure and lust. The other man hadn't said anything, he was sure of it. And yet the voice had been clear as day to Sin – it was Draca's voice, dripping in lust and sex and delightful promise. That tingling sensation at the base of his skull was back, but this time it didn't disappear. It reached outward, seeping into his mind from all directions. And this time he recognized what they were.

'Yeah, I'm right here, Sin.'

Draca's shadows.

A sudden firm thrust brought a strangled cry from him, their pace quickening. His arms trembled with the effort to support his weight under the onslaught of pleasure from which there was no relief. The seraph matched the relentless pace, his mind reeling. He could feel Draca's presence in his mind – in his soul. It was enveloping him, possessing him – whispering the most sinful of things to him.

'I love it when you beg. I love it when you writhe.'

"Ah – oh god…" Sin's arms gave out, his upper body collapsing onto the bed. "Ahhn!" The change in angle allowed Draca to strike that bundle of nerves with every thrust. He absolutely thrashed, every nerve ending screaming in ecstasy. His hand clenched around the Vampyre's, aching from the force of his grip – his other reaching across the bed, searching for purchase.

'I love to hear my name on your lips.'

"Dr-ah! Draca…!"

"Fuck, just like that. That's it, baby."

There was no space between them – no clear definition of identity. They almost weren't two people anymore, they were so close.

'But it feels good, doesn't it?'

"Yes! God yes – Draca!" There was a groan above him, barely audible over his own hoarse cries. The rhythm of their movements became frantic, both of them desperate for release. Draca's weight settled lower over his back, supporting himself on his elbows. The man's free hand darted down to pump his pulsing manhood in time with their erratic movements.

'You are mine – so completely mine. And I'm yours. I'm the only one who can make you let go. I'm the only one who can make you like this. Make you so desperate and needy and not give a damn about it.'

"A-ah!" Fierce heat was coiling in his abdomen, fueled by the devilish words, the tension in his body pulled taut like a fragile thread. His Sight finally faltered, the last thing he Saw being the mesmerizing vision of their joined hand – joined souls.

He was so close.

'Only I can make you scream.'

Thin lips pressed into the scars at his back, sharp teeth ghosting gently over them.

He screamed. His world shattered into a thousand pieces. He wasn't himself anymore – he was anything anymore except glorious ecstasy. He was coming harder than he ever had in his life, pushed ever higher with every thrust that pounded into his body. The form above him tensed, a shaky cry of completion barely penetrating Sin's orgasmic high as Draca followed him over the brink.

Finally, the tension in his body drained away. The seraph was trembling uncontrollably. Incoherent murmurs were flowing from his mouth as his body collapsed in a boneless heap on the now sticky sheets. He barely noticed when Draca pulled out of him.

Gentle hands turned him onto his back, caressing his skin in an effort to bring him back to earth. It worked, to some degree, the ecstatic thrumming that had filled his mind and body quieting slightly. He could think now, though certainly not much. He jolted as lips brushed tenderly against his, swallowing the murmurs still issuing from them.

It took a moment from Sin to realize that it was Draca's name he had been repeating over and over, as if it were the only word he knew.

His Sight gradually flickered back into existence, the still swirling Colors of the Vampyre appearing dim before his eyes. One of those hands came up to caress his cheek, the other reaching away for something that a black and violet shadow tendril had brought the man. It was a warm, damp cloth, which the thief used to clean them up.

Sin took that time to regain his composure – urging the quiet whispers and the residual tremors to cease. He finally succeeded, though he was left with the wonderful lethargic haze of satiety. Draca had tossed the cloth aside, shifting to lie beside him on the bed. The lithe form automatically curled around him, long arms pulling him close and face nuzzling into his hair. The long silence was comfortable – broken only by the occasional sound of contentment as hands tenderly brushed over skin.

It was something that had bothered him once upon a time – this casual intimacy. But it had ceased to bother him, through the sated veil that had overtaken him. The seraph was leaning into ever caress, as if he craved it.

'Like craving a lover's touch,' Sin's mind supplied the truth that he had denied for so long. He didn't even flinch as the Vampyre's hand wrapped around his own once more, simply letting their joined hand lie between them. 'Lovers, huh?'

A wide grin was abruptly pressed into his scalp, bursts of joy, triumph, and sheer amusement erupting in the form wrapped around his. 'Gotcha.'

Sin froze. He had forgotten in his lethargic daze that Draca had been, and obviously still was, peering into his mind. The Fallen Angel pushed against the Vampyre's hold. "Get out of my head!" he snarled.

But Draca didn't appear to be listening. His body was shaking with silent mirth, arms tightening around Sin's struggling form. Incensed, Sin gave a mental shove against the foreign presence in his mind. To his surprise and relief, it withdrew.

"Sorry, babe," the thief mumbled into his hair – though he didn't sound apologetic in the least. In fact, the man sounded happy – deliriously so. "I finally got you to admit it." Draca laughed softly, kissing him on impulse.

'Planned. Tricked. Oh, you bastard.'

"You planned this," he accused. What was he saying? Of course Draca had planned it.

"It worked, didn't it?"


"Your bastard – your lover." Draca settled back down, nuzzling closer and voice beginning to thicken with sleep. "And you're all mine."

A shiver went through him at the admission, but he found it wasn't in displeasure or discomfort – as it would have been not so long ago. In fact, he found that he actually enjoyed the way that sounded. 'My… lover.' He reached up to tuck a lock of wild hair behind Draca's ear.

"Yeah, I guess. Yours."

Passion is the quickest to develop, and the quickest to fade. Intimacy develops more slowly, and commitment more gradually still.

Walk on, Traveler of Worlds.

This is by far my favorite yaoi that I've written so far. ^ ^ I hope you enjoyed it too!

Reviews feed the authoress monster!

And be sure to check out my profile for some art and stuff!