Dedication: For analine, whose story "drawn into" sparked just the idea I needed to complete this very fic.

Come on over to my place, sweetie. I'll show you a good time…

"Shion…"

Would you mind? He's mine. He belongs to me…

"Shii-on."

Can I get some change?

"Oi, Shion!" Long fingers bit into Shion's shoulder, extracting body heat.

Pulled out of a putrid alley of the West Block bazaar and back into a cluttered, lantern-lit room, Shion blinked a few times, focusing on dark grey eyes. They were frowning. "Nezumi?"

He released Shion in answer. Shion started rubbing his shoulder.

"Must be nice up there. I was beginning to think you weren't coming back." He had smiled for a moment, but now his expression was drained of all humour. "You've barely touched your food."

Shion attempted a chuckle.

"Ah, I just got caught up in my thoughts. But Nezumi, do you want my portion?" His eyes rose from Nezumi's near-empty bowl to his deadpan face; the crease of his lips. "I've gotten used to skipping lunch lately and then there were Rikiga-san's… snacks. Guess I'm just not hungry!"

He tried a smile of reassurance.

"The old man's pie and coffee? There's no way a pampered little boy like you could fill up on that… well, even if you are that skinny." His eyes flicked below Shion's and back up again, teasing. There was a mocking curve to his lips.

A self-conscious Shion looked down to find his hands fisted in his lap. Oh god, I'm crushing my shirt hem. He pulled down and began straightening out the wrinkles.

Uncomfortable seconds passed.

"Shion."

"Yeah?"

Nezumi's lips angled disapproval. "Don't waste food. Just finish your soup."

"Right." There was rarely much to flavour their thin broths with in the first place, but the soup tasted especially bland to Shion that day. He drank it slowly, unconsciously dragging his thumb along the lip of the bowl.

Awkward minutes passed.

"Now you're moping like a girl." A girl? "You're not still upset about that business at Rikiga's? If you're gonna cry again—"

"I'm not crying, and it's not that," Shion snapped. Rikiga's insinuations about Nezumi mere hours before would never sit well with him, but that wasn't what was on Shion's mind just then. "It's nothing. You'd just laugh anyway so—"

"If it bothers you that much, I won't," Nezumi replied, waving a hand impatiently.

"Oh that's right, you're a thespian!" Ugh, I sound bitter. Earlier that evening, Shion learned what Nezumi does for a living— from Rikiga, whom he'd only just met. He'd have preferred it from Eve's own lips.

"Shion, it's not like I enjoy seeing you like this."

Shion believed in Nezumi's sincerity. He was an actor, not a liar. "Alright."

Shion and his soup relocated to the far end of the bed. Nezumi remained on the chair, leaning back on an arm bent leisurely against the wall behind his head. His sleeve was tugged upward so that it pulled his shirt taut, defining perfectly the lines of his arm, the swell of his chest, the firm ridges of muscle outlining his stomach. He's so strong, lithe…

"Well?"

"Oh— yes, I've just been a little… preoccupied… with what happened in that alley today. It's nothing important." Shion sipped some lukewarm soup.

"Huh? You're not making any sense, Shion. You were trampled and nearly shot by that ogre of a butcher, you barely got away from becoming some greasy drunken Cleaner's plaything… was being kissed by a woman really that traumatic?"

"Traumatic?" Shion glared, indignant.

"It was your first real one, right? Don't worry, you'll do better next time," he laughed.

"Yeah, maybe." Shion turned his rueful smile toward a pile of books on the floor nearby. "But then, Nezumi, you showed up and said I was 'yours' and 'madly in love with you.' And it was…"

He brought the bowl to his lips again in an abrupt attempt to cover his blush.

"Well it worked, didn't it?" Nezumi swivelled his crossed arms and obstinate gaze away defensively.

"You… kissed her. Like it was nothing at all."

Nezumi's smile was tranquil, his eyelids lowered along with his gaze.

"It was nothing, Shion." He angled his head back again to watch Shion over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye. His smile turned cocky; "Except I was curious what kind of kiss costs a whole silver—"

What?

"Is a kiss really something to 'toss around so casually,' Nezumi!" Shion shouted Nezumi's own words from just yesterday about his confession. Calm down, Shion. He reduced his voice to a near-whisper: "Kisses mean less than words like 'drawn to?'"

One day ago, Nezumi refused to acknowledge Shion was "attracted" to him. But Shion truly longed to stay by his side. Always. He's the one who doesn't understand the weight of his words! He's the one whose actions—

"Shion… you're seriously—?"

"It threw me off for the rest of the day— every time I remembered that kiss! Why do you think I lost control tonight?" Slow down, Shion! "R-Rikiga-san was saying you— It mortified me… to think… that you—"

Damnit. Shion's throat was constricting; his eyes stinging. He took a deep breath and pretended to drain his now-empty soup bowl to cover for his tightly-shut eyes.

"Is the soup better cold? Your appetite's picked up." The words teased, but his voice was warm— soothing. He got up. "What if I could get you back that first kiss of yours?"

Shion had just regulated his breathing when Nezumi took his bowl and laid it on the table.

"Nezumi? I don't understand what you…" He sat close beside Shion. "…mean."

"Just… wanna try something."

Nezumi took Shion's hair between his fingers and cupped his face. Shion was drawn as always into the deceptive calm of his eyes. Grey irises like a frozen lake. While gazing at them, Shion was also tilting his head unaware; captivated. A ghostly crescent smile played on the other's lips.

Nezumi is… so close.

Shion felt fingers slide down the side of his arm and begin to caress the back of his hand. His heart raced and his eyelids seem to close on their own as he concentrated on that entrancing sensation.

"Do you remember what her kiss tasted like, Shion?"

Her… kiss?

Tasted?

His eyes snapped open, refocusing on Nezumi's smirking face for a moment before darting aside in a sudden wave of disgust. "Why would I want to remember that?"

Are you just making fun of me?

"Overly strong, sickeningly sweet peppermint?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. I nearly choked on her perfume…"

"But you know what else I noticed, Shion?" Nezumi leaned in closer, wearing that cocky smile from before. Shion licked his lips out of nervousness; Nezumi's grin grew wider. "Apple."

"Apple? I don't—" Shion caught himself and gasped, "Wait… my dried apple slices?"

"Maybe I stole that kiss of yours back. May I return it now, your majesty? After that, his highness may rightly bestow it upon whomever he desires." Nezumi slowly stroked back up Shion's arm and along his jawline as he spoke. Shion shivered.

Nezumi's symbolic gesture somehow simultaneously made both perfect sense and no sense at all. To Shion, it was both disgusting and beautiful all at once. He bit his lip in thought. It won't be meaningless, at the very least. "All… right."

Wisps of black hair tickled the sides of Shion's face as Nezumi immediately leaned in. His lips lingered against Shion's, taking their time. Fingertips glided slowly up the nape of his neck and into his hair, lifting it up from behind, and attracting warmth wherever they touched. Those touches sent shivers down Shion's spine, and he couldn't stop himself from making an embarrassing sound or two against Nezumi lips. He was hot; feverish, his heart pounding. Feeling unsteady, he rebalanced with hands on the sides of Nezumi's shoulders, his fingertips soon drifting to trace the contours of Nezumi's back. He was euphoric. There was nothing that could be more right than being touched by him. And nothing better. Then, all too soon it seemed, Nezumi was pulling away. Shion's hands, which had by this point gathered fistfuls of Nezumi's shirt, were gently forced to release him. Now only the faint scent of Nezumi on the air remained to embrace him.

Nezumi bounced up off the not particularly springy bed, and stood back a bit, as if to survey the damage. Shion knew he must be flushed, his hair tussled. He was panting just a little as well. "Ne-zumi..."

What was that kiss?

"Hmm?" A perfectly composed Nezumi sat back down on the bed, a small distance away, still watching Shion.

Shion couldn't focus. He was dazed. A conflagration of thoughts and desires were roaring through his mind and body. Did it feel like that because it was Nezumi? Was it like that for him too? —Did I do alright? Shion wanted desperately to touch Nezumi again. To feel more of him. He wanted more…

How to quiet such a litany?

Shion licked his lips in preparation to speak, and took a deep breath, his throat very dry. "Nezumi, I want you…"

Nezumi's voice dropped low as if in shock: "What?"

Shion cleared his throat and hoped he didn't look as shaky as he felt. "I want you to… to have it."

"It?" Nezumi leaned forward expectantly, the bed creaking under his weight…

"My—" Grey eyes widened "—first kiss."

You know— the symbolic one, Nezumi.

"Oh." Shion stared at the perfect nonchalant "o" formed by the other's lips. "Maybe another day, Little Lamb," Nezumi cooed as he lazily petted Shion's hair. He left the bed to begin gathering toiletries.

Shion rolled his eyes. "Nezumi…" he chided.

"Now, now. Mama's going to have a nice, long, cold shower and hop right into bed. Make sure to eat well from now on, so you can grow up a strapping young ram!" And with that, he exited the room.

Shion fell back on the bed with a frustrated sigh, staring at the ceiling and chewing his lower lip. Putting aside his infuriating little act just now, Nezumi went as far as kissing me to make me feel better. He smiled. Just knowing he'd do that is more than enough. Just to be by Nezumi's side, he decided, was enough. Satisfied with this conclusion, Shion took care of the dishes, picked up a book, and read himself to sleep.