30 Day Writing Challenge

Day Twenty-Seven: Chest

Fandom: Man

Pairing: Poker Pair

Disclaimer: I do not own Man

Chest

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There was just something about him, was the conclusion Allen had finally come to after days I pondering over his previous three (four? Maybe five?) meetings with the noah called Tyki Mikk, none of which he had mentioned to Kamui.

He was mysterious, and cunning, and so perfect corrupt in a way that Allen liked to pretend he wasn't, and that drew the exorcist in.

There was something fun, and sinful, about the dangerous way Tyki made his heart beat in his chest.

(And wasn't that the most fucked up thing, considering how intimately familiar Tyki was with his chest, cold fingers moving through his skin in a way that made him shiver at the memory, still uncertain whether it was disgust he felt, fear, or something else. Perhaps, it was simply all three. And wasn't that just so much worse?)

So yes, Tyki Mikk was an enigma in Allen's life, and he wished that the noah would stop appearing before him and distracting him, because it was getting hard to keep their meetings a secret.

Except Allen was a liar and what he really wanted was to see Tyki more.

He could just tell the order, of course, but part of him enjoyed those meetings. The same part of him that relished in the sinful ways of Master Cross, and the memories of simpler days, before good and evil were ever truly a part of his life.

It was also the same part of him that had begun to re-imagine those fingers brushing over his pale white skin, rubbing caressing him gently, before contrasting it with the delicious twinge of pain, nails scratching harsh red lines from the shoulder blade, to the dip of his body.

It was the same part of him imagined the opposite, a change to finally get his own fingers of the other man's chest, tease at those nipples, before sucking at them sweetly, only to bite down harshly. Just like him, he imagined that Tyki would appreciate a little pain with his pleasure, something to keep the exchange all the more real.

But that was the problem with the entire thing, wasn't it, Allen reminded himself sardonically. It wasn't real.

None of it was.

He was imagining a fantasy world where their sides of the war didn't exist, and neither of them held a responsibility to their comrades.

But all the same it was nice to fantasise once in a while. It was only something small, so Allen could allow himself that much, he supposed.

And if realising that Tyki was the noah of pleasure had him flirting a little harder, hinting a little more the next few times he met with Tyki (never mentioning a word to anyone else), well, who could blame him?

He was still only human.