If you're not up to boring and useless paragraphs, then you may discontinue reading from here...your choice. (:
I used their Appends because their Appends are hotter, kyaa~!1! The setting is in the Vocaloid world because almost all of LenXMiku fanfics are AUs? But I still like AUs? Even so, I made a Vocaloid!universe one? Disclaimers are important!2! ((:

TYSM AWESOME D.T.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction contains some sexually explicit scenes that may be unsuitable to certain people. It's just *this word has been removed to avoid spoiling readers who hate spoilers in A/Ns*, but it's still rated-M.

No, I'm not a pervert (though my friends believe that everyone is a perv). No, I'm not horny. No, Vocaloid is not my property, so what the hell am I doing making fan-made fiction about it, huh? What is your problem? Is it bad to make stories for my own satisfaction, huh? Alright, alright...Kagamine Len and Hatsune Miku are just characters I used for this story but I don't claim them as my own babies. No, they're not the fruits of my labor. Yamaha-san did all that. No, I don't sell them for my profit. Don't sue me. I'm too young to spend my life in jail, okay? Thank you.

Sunlight spilled through the windows from where the sound of birds chirping trickled through mellifluously, unfolding in the serene atmosphere of the living room. There, a sunshine-haired, young male slacked on the couch. He lay there, unmoving but not unconscious, eying his perpetually scanning companion situated a few feet away –the electrical fan.

Companion? He thought incredulously. Non-living objects don't qualify for the title – perhaps another word for it.

It was sad that his only form of entertainment was the electronic appliance. He had nothing to do. His inactivity was so pathetic that he colorfully painted his slouch in his mind.

Shoulders hung loose, surrendering to the gravity of his hunched spine. Arms and legs dangling across the squeaky leather sofa without a care, like a puppet with no strings to hold them up. Neck propped on aforementioned sofa, I look at the boring ceiling. If I don't sit properly, I'd get stiff neck, but I'm too lazy to move. I have to use my muscles.

Muscles: No, don't use us.

Me: But your neck will hurt later.

Muscles: I don't care. We're not the nervous system.

Brain: What the hell was that supposed to mean, Muscles?! Master, move your lazy neck right this instant, please.

…

Moving's such a pain.

In front of the sofa was a coffee table and on it was an electronic clock. With only his eyes, he checked the time. It read 7:59 a.m. like it did 14 seconds ago. He sighed. It was too early.

If this was any other Sunday, he would still be in his bed, in the company of pillows, comforter, and banana dreams, and wouldn't be up until half of the day has past. But today, he woke up at 5-fucking-a.m., without any nasty alarm clock to curse, and failed his attempts to fall back in his blessed banana-featured slumber. With this, since he can't go back to sleep even when he tried, he figured he should get out of bed, take a shower, and eat breakfast, thinking that these would eat up his time. But by 6:37 a.m., he was done cleaning the sink.

It was a bright and lovely Sunday, and Len was bored out of his mind. It was too early for anything good to watch in the telly. The house was clean enough by his standards and he didn't clean the house unless Rin was around to bully him, kick his bottom and bark orders, who—fortunately—was not around. He spent the last hour coming up with things to occupy his time with every single one of them crossed out as too much of this or too much of that because it was Sunday and Sundays were lazy days.

It was supposed to be lazy, not boring. And he was bored out of his mind. It was like being mind-blowing, with the blowing part being replaced with the boring.

Kind of like jumping up and down going 'Boing! Boing! Boing!' but, in his case, 'Boring! Boring Boring!'.

Brain was leaping for joy, throwing bananas all around. Muscles was sulking and reluctantly munched on a stray banana. Len would have to move. Groaning, the sound oddly reminiscent of the shounen protagonists when delivering a finishing blow, he reached for his phone on the coffee table in the least laboring feat way possible, the action being his first movement he's done for the past hour aside from breathing and blinking. He slipped down the couch until his slouch was in reverse—his feet up in the air and his head upside down, the tips of his hair touching the floor—and lifted up an arm that might have weighed a gazillion tons, reaching for the son-of-an-evil-banana phone of his. Evil bananas be cruel, his phone only reached his fingertips. Oh my God, just come to me you little useless piece of box!

Thank bananas, he finally got the phone. He resumed to his prior position, the lazy slouch, cringing at the god-awful headrush. He blinked several times until the black faded and his vision functioning. Unlocked the phone and started scrolling down his contacts.

His phone beeped as he pressed a button, bringing it to his ear.

*Start of phone conversation*

"Hi! I can't answer the phone right now so leave a–"

"Ha Ha, Miku, I know it's you."

"Why'd you call?"

"Can you come over?"

"Why? Are you stabbed?"

"No, I'm bored."

"Ugh... I know, right? Okay, I'll be there in a jiffy."

*End of conversation*

Phone at hand, he didn't move for another half hour. He didn't bother moving a muscle when he heard the door open and close, when he heard the sound of moving feet, and when the living room was pierced with a voice heralding the presence of a valid companion. Sorry, electric fan.

"I let myself in," announced his new companion. His feet was being nudged by the said companion, who was now sitting on the edge of the sofa, the notion saying 'you're taking up too much space move your leek-forsaken feet'to which he complied. "The door was unlocked. Really, Len..." She shook her head, her butt easing on the leather sofa. "I'm surprised your limbs are still intact."

"You don't look surprised though," Len pointed out matter-of-factually, his eyes assessing her.

He received a dry laugh – though nothing was funny – and a haughty reply, "Is that how you treat your mighty savior?"

Len rolled his eyes. Usually, he would brush off Miku's antics such as her lame attempts at humor, treating them with silence and indifference since they were mostly annoying, then moving on to more sensible things. Alas, he was bored, and judging from his out-of-the-ordinary early wake up, today wasn't his usual Sunday, so–usual things be damned–he entertained it. "But I wasn't stabbed," he pointed out. "No point in saving me."

Miku crossed her arms, shaking her head again in disappointment. "What a shame," she dismayed, opening an eye slyly at the blonde. "I thought you would have liked the food–"

"What did you bring?"

Miku's reaction was a cross between shock and amusement. It took about a moment for her to reply, but as soon a she said the word "kitchen", her friend was off. She hoped he heard her call of getting some for her too.

They were comfortably propped on the couch, feasting on delectable vanilla ice cream and oozing chocolate syrup.

To express his gratitude, Len brought a spoon and bowl for his friend. Shoving it in front of her face so quick that she only reacted when it was inches from the tip of her nose, looking at anywhere in the room except the girl, he reluctantly stammered a "Thank you". Even with the bowl hiding her face, Len could feel the huge grin on her face. The blonde knew that his teal-haired friend was never going to live it down and will be constantly reminding him. The two words left a bad taste on his mouth, although half a bowl of ice cream smothered it.

To Miku, the pride thing seemed preposterous and categorized it as a guy-thing. Seriously, who would get all masculine over the words thank you? It was a simple gesture of gratitude, not a ton of bricks. The human with male parts were forever an enigma to humans with lady parts. Still, looking smugly at her friend, the girl thought anything that could make her friend squirm was welcome. His issue of swallowing pride was one of them. Yes, she would be constantly reminding him.

The blonde knew the gears in his companion's teal-haired head were turning and he didn't have to second guess that the subject was making fun of him. "Shut up," he ordered, inducing a giggle from Miku. He gave her a stern look, lips pressed to a thin line, eyebrows up intimidatingly. It wasn't a funny look but it made girl's giggles turn to laughter.

"You're...so...hah—cute!" Miku cried between laughs.

He glared at her, beckoning her to stop, but she wouldn't, so started he attacking the ice cream. When her laughter died down, he made sure to look more aggressive with the ice cream, leaving nothing for her to eat but he was only doing it for show. He'd leave her some, maybe a teaspoon or two.

The 2-liter gallon was almost empty, approximately five spoons of ice creamleft. The blonde was about to claim the melting dairy product when all of a sudden he felt a gooey substance blast at his chest and drip down his white sleeveless Append dress shirt. It was his favorite shirt. Sure, he had tons of Append dress shirts in his closet, but this was the first one he received.

He stilled from shock.

"Oops..." Miku squeaked.

What the fuck?

"..."

I can't believe this.

"..."

She shot the goddamn chocolate syrup at me!

He scowled at the apologetic-looking girl. "You..." he muttered darkly.

The offender made no move.

He inhaled deeply. Glaring at Miku, he unbuttoned his soiled dress shirt, never once taking off his dark stare at the girl. She gulped, her eyes scanning up and down on the damage she'd done. She looked...guilty. Her hands were fidgeting, her chest visibly heaving, Len assumed she was probably scared out of her wits. Good. She should be.

Some chocolate caught on his thumb. He brought it to his mouth and sucked it off. Miku bit her lip.

He was grateful for the synthetic leather sofa. He could wipe the stain off. Or he could make Miku do it. It was her fault, after all.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance once he saw the damage. It looked worse that it did when he was wearing it. It would take several washes before it would fade. Breaking his eyes off Miku, he tossed his shirt at the coffee table and looked down to see syrup on his black Append shorts, the movement making him aware of the stickiness on his neck. Almost half of the container was on him, which meant she did it on purpose.

"Miku..." he growled, watching the dark sweetness running down his bare chest.

The female remained silent. He must have scared her more than he intended to. Her jaws tight, her knuckles white from clenching, she only breathed. Slow. Deep.

"Miku?" He suddenly didn't feel as enraged as earlier.

Even though she was trembling, she didn't look scared. Instead of being in the verge of tears, her eyes were hooded and unmoving, as if on a trance.

He followed her gaze.

Now, she was starting to worry him. "Miku, are you –"

Miku leaned forward, lifted her feet to the sofa, and closed the distance between them with her knees, slowly yet steadily reaching an arm towards him, to his chest. Her finger swiped a drop, one close to his nipple, her hand drawing back just in level with his abdomen. Instead of bringing it to her, she brought her head towards said finger. He met her eyes, dark, wide, and vividly emerald eyes, as she flicked out a tongue and licked up, swiping the chocolate rolling down her fingers. As she reached the abundant tip, her pink lips closed around her finger and sucked and Len knew that the quirky girl who teased him was gone. He traitorous brain filled his thought with forbidden things about her soft-looking better-than-ice-cream lips. It even made him think of being jealous of the chocolate and Miku's finger.

"What are yo–"

"Len."

He shut up.

Damn, he can't move. He sat there, just sat there, while Miku crouched in front of him. Her white open-stomach camisole hung loose, her similarly-white tie did nothing to hide her ample cleavage. Her smooth, creamy legs... Her Append clothes never really bothered him before, but now it did. It very much did. He wanted to be more bothered. Why can't I move? Why wasn't I doing anything?

Something was wailing in his head, like an alarm or something, but it was much, much more annoying than his alarm clock. And there was a loud thumping in his chest, over his left lung. It would be embarrassing if Miku heard it, she was so close to his chest, both of them aware of how this interpreted.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "Tsk, now you're all dirty, covered up in this." She fingered the syrup on his neck down his chest. His brain went on vacation. "Let me make it up to you."

Any shred of thought of being angry in the first place flew off as the girl in front of him shifted to straddle him, brought her head down, down to his chest, as she brought out her tongue and started to lick off the sticky chocolate syrup off his chest.

The thumping grew faster, his breathing more ragged as she indulged him, cleaning off every drop. His mind was getting foggy; he blinked to clear his thoughts. Here was his friend, Miku, who deliberately spilled chocolate syrup on him and was now licking it off for him. His annoying friend. Hatsune Miku.

This was wrong. It was wrong to enjoy it. Wrong to look at her and feel pleased. The tightening of his shorts—it was wrong. He had half a mind to listen to the god-awfully load warning sirens and push her off, stopping this once and for all.

He was, but as if she sensed it, her tongue...on his nipple.

"Hng.."

Since when was he laying his back on the sofa? He didn't hear then move. And when did Miku position herself on top of him?

"There," she purred, satisfaction evident on her face. "All cleaned."

"Miku." The only word he can say.

He wasn't cleaned. He felt sticky. She just ate the chocolate syrup on him.

"Ssh..." she said before she kissed him. He responded, returned her kisses, worshiping her glorious teasing lips with his. Gradually, the voices of reason in his head dissipated into thin air. Soon, he was kissing her with lubricious force, but not entirely since Miku restricted him with her body weight pushing him down.

But he would not allow being the submissive. She did this on purpose, to pin him down and make her the victor. He refused to fall on the losing side. Putting his hand on her back, he pushed himself upright with dominant tenacity to reverse the position, to pin Miku beneath him. But she resisted, just in time to cling on his shoulders and use her legs to buck herself up so that she was straddling him in his seat.

Bringing her down was harder than he thought. He'd had to lower her defenses first. He kissed her with such primal passion that only his hand cradling her head can support. She whimpered as she fisted his hair, messing up his ponytail. Smiling against her mouth, he was pleased to know her Append shirt made it easy for him to access her breasts. Now he was hovering over her. He simply pushed the garment to the side of her bra-less bosoms, massaging the delicate softness, loving them the way he did to her lips. And this was it. He fingered her nipple as he thrust his tongue in her mouth. She moaned in response and Len knew he had won. He didn't waste a moment of her weakened defenses and pined her down the sofa.

And then he drew back.

"Len.." moaned Miku, trying to close the distance between them. The blonde half-naked male evaded, much to her displeasure. "Come on..."

He smirked. "Ha, I win," he announced.

"Okay, you win. Now kiss me," she demanded, trying to capture his lips again. But he turned away. "What is it?" she grumbled in annoyance, following his gaze. The ice cream tub.

"The ice cream is melting."

She rolled her pretty green eyes. She untangled her arms around his head and propped herself up on her elbows. And then an idea came to her.

The ice cream already melted, much to Len's dismay. He pushed himself off the female and sat, looking at the said female. She wore a coy smile, eyes twinkling with a naughty promise.

"Tsk...That's a shame. It already melted," she said, standing up to take off her Append dress. Picking up the tub of ice cream, she lay back down on the sofa and drizzled the white viscous liquid on her bare chest, down her stomach. "Payback?"

He almost didn't hear her. Payback from what? Then, he remembered the chocolate syrup and understood.

He grinned madly, mischievously. His Sunday just turned from boring to exciting.

"Sure."

I whipped this up a while back when I was the 'tenshi' who still craved for ice cream and was just discovering ecchi shounen. Ugggh. I thought it'd would be interesting to publish this on a Sunday. I rushed to edit and proofread today so it's not something shiny with shoeshine polish. Like I just spat on it and started rubbing on the shoe with a dirty rag like a poor kid who declined being the owner of a chocolate factory. Oh, wait...that was Charlie. (((:

Anywho-if y'all would like I can continue the smut and shoeshine it at the same time. No, I'm not doing this for reviews or smth...I'm just preparing for the smut scene in my M-rated fanfic. You are under no obligation to check it out. Plus, I'm not sure if LenXMiku shippers are comfortable with smut? At the same time, I'd mourn over my regret of declining that chocolate factory offer. Happy Sunday, and may the ice cream be with you! ((((:

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