Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Yoh/Feilong

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Yamane Ayano, not me.

Author's Note: I felt inexplicably guilty today for not yet having used any of the prompts that people have been so kind to leave for me in my prompt post, so I decided to do one today. muggins submitted this prompt: "I would really like to see Yoh and Feilong's first kiss! Especially if Fei is being ultra pissy.

"Feilong-sama."

"Don't call me that!" Feilong shot Yoh a narrow-eyed glare as he pushed brusquely past him, uninvited, into Yoh's sparsely, yet tastefully decorated apartment. The furniture, the art, the color scheme was all modern, Feilong noted with a cursory, somewhat mildly interested glance. "I assume you know why I came here."

"No."

"No?" Feilong whirled, whisking his sunglasses off his face to better glower at the man who had once had the unmitigated gall to call himself his most loyal subordinate. He brandished the glasses at Yoh, irritation lacing his words. "Don't lie! You know very well why I'm here."

"Won't you sit down, Feilong-sama?" Yoh walked past him and gestured toward a low black sofa. "May I bring you some tea?"

"I said don't call me that, traitor! And I didn't come for tea."

Yoh's expression didn't change, and Feilong watched in frustration as he walked into the sleek kitchen that opened up onto the main room. When Yoh filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil, Feilong lost his temper.

"Did you not hear what I said?"

"You always have tea this time of day, Feilong-sama. And I have your preferred type right here."

Feilong's eye twitched. Was he seeing things? For a moment, it almost looked as if Yoh's mouth had lifted in the tiniest of smirks. No, impossible, he must be seeing things. He blinked and looked again, and Yoh was standing there as stoically as ever, watching Feilong with a focused gaze that never wavered.

He was always watching.

Feilong tossed his sunglasses on the counter and took a threatening step closer. "It stops now, Yoh. Do I make myself clear?" His hands slid into the pockets of his sharply-creased trousers, and his chin lifted just as sharp and perfect. "Perhaps you don't realize your great fortune in being permitted to live. Do not ever forget that this...mercy...can be withdrawn. Stop following me. I neither desire nor require your services."

"There were three attempts on your life last week." Yoh, the insufferable, immovable source of incredible annoyance, simply stared back blandly as Feilong went red.

"I could have handled it very well without your interference! Do you forget I am a trained assassin?"

"You should not be bothered with such matters. And your men were incompetent."

Feilong boiled, but the truth was, Yoh was right. Still, he smiled icily. "Don't think I'm unwilling to get my hands dirty when the situation warrants." He gave Yoh a significant look, but it passed right over Yoh's oblivious, thick head.

"Whatever you feel you must do, and whether you wish it or not, I must do as I deem fit in this case. I won't allow you to be harmed. In all things but this, I am your servant, Feilong-sama."

A bitter laugh escaped Feilong. "My servant. Your lies make me sick. You were never mine."

A shocking jolt of adrenaline coiled down into Feilong's belly when Yoh's expression actually faltered for a brief moment before firming again. "I cannot do more than ask for forgiveness again. But know that in everything I have done over the past several years, I have had your interests and your happiness in the forefront of my thoughts."

His pulse began to race, and Feilong's color deepened. He was...he was furious, that's what it was because this man, this betrayer, dared to pretend that he cared for Feilong when he had simply been using him all along for that man.

"You-"

A piercing whistle interrupted his words, and Feilong started, looking at the offending teapot in irritation. Yoh turned to the stove and removed the pot, slipping in a small thermometer to test the temperature.

"It needs to cool a moment."

Feilong stared in disbelief. Was Yoh still going on about the tea? Did he take him for a fool?

"Are you mocking me? How dare you take this-me-lightly."

"There is nothing about you that I take lightly, Feilong-sama. It is for that reason that I cannot follow your request."

"So you intend to follow me around for the rest of your most likely extremely short life?"

"Yes."

"You are a fool."

"Is it foolish to protect the thing which one loves?"

Heat crept up Feilong's face. He desperately wanted to turn away, to loosen his tie and breathe properly, but pride wouldn't allow that.

"Are you a man?" he asked incredulously. "How can you say something like that and still show your face?"

"I'm not ashamed of what I feel."

Yoh's emotionless voice conveying those sentiments was so at odds that Feilong couldn't help a somewhat astonished laugh.

"I think you've taken leave of your senses. That beating my men gave you on the ship must have done permanent damage."

"The only one to leave a permanent mark on me is you, Feilong-sama. Though, it's one that can't be seen with the eyes."

Feilong gaped as Yoh turned back to the teapot and added the loose tea leaves to the pot, then set a small egg-shaped timer. His strong hands were deft and surprisingly elegant in their movements. Feilong had never noticed before.

"Three minutes."

Feilong's eyes jerked back to Yoh's, who was now regarding him once again with the same steady gaze.

"What?"

"Until it's perfect."

Oh. Feilong flicked a look at the tea. The container sat on the counter. Oolong. His favorite.

He sniffed. As if a cup of tea would make him forgive Yoh's offenses. He would give Yoh one more chance to remove himself from his awareness, or he would take drastic measures. His guilt over his treatment of Akihito had made him a little soft in recent days, but if his hand was forced, then so be it. He could hardly be blamed.

But before he could impart this final warning, Yoh spoke.

"You look well."

Thrown off guard, Feilong frowned. "What?"

"I know how hard you've been working to reorganize Baishe, but you look well."

That took him aback. Despite everything that had happened in recent months, despite everything that needed to be done, and his current battles, Feilong did feel well. Lighter. Did it really show? Perhaps he wasn't fully satisfied, but his past had been reconciled to his present in some fashion, though he still ached when he thought of certain things, and certain people. He scowled again-Yoh, being one of them.

"No thanks to you."

Yoh, of course, didn't flinch. Instead, he retrieved a tea cup from a shelf and placed it on the counter, not looking at Feilong.

"It suits you. But it's not good enough."

"What is that supposed to mean?" An uncertain frown hovered on Feilong's lips. Was that some sort of insult?

"You deserve to be even happier."

"Stop..." Feilong swallowed, his stomach fluttering unaccountably as he watched the play of muscles across Yoh's back as he reached for another cup. "Stop changing the subject. However I look or feel, it's none of your concern."

Yoh looked over his shoulder and Feilong's heart rose into his throat. Yoh's face was impassive but his eyes pierced right through Feilong. They glittered like polished, black stones, and everything that Yoh kept locked up behind his impregnable facade seemed to shine out in that moment. A short rush of air expelled from Feilong's lungs.

"One minute."

Feilong blinked. The fucking tea again. Fine, he'd tried his best. If Yoh didn't want to listen to reason then he would simply have to deal with the consequences.

"I'm afraid I won't be staying for tea. You've heard my warning. Ignore it at your own peril."

He made it to the center of the main room before Yoh's voice stopped him.

"You've forgotten your sunglasses."

Annoyed, Feilong stalked back to the kitchen and snatched them from Yoh's hands.

"Thank you," he snapped.

"Are you sure you don't want your tea?" Yoh pointed to a tin on the cabinet. "I have white chocolate digestive biscuits."

Feilong cast him a scornful glance. As if he was to be tempted by a cheap confection, though he had an immediate Pavlovian response to the sight of them. Damn his English nanny for nurturing his addiction.

"Goodbye, Yoh," he said coldly. "I'll be go-"

The timer buzzed, making him start again. He shot it a murderous glare and huffed irritably. "Turn that thing off before I shoot it."

Yoh did, but instead of taking the teapot to pour the tea, he moved toward Feilong.

"What are you doing?" Feilong stepped back, not in consternation, only in surprise that Yoh dared to approach him.

Yoh's stern face was alarmingly near. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"What? How dare-"

Feilong fell back against the center island as Yoh braced one hand on the marble surface and the other threaded through Feilong's thick, fall of hair. Warm lips cut off his angry cry, shock-it must be shock-making his limbs go weak, his body compliant. His mouth parted unconsciously to the sweep of Yoh's tongue. It slid inside, licking up the silky underside of Feilong's own tongue, drawing it back into Yoh's mouth with a smooth, beckoning, s-curve stroke to be sucked long and hard until it also drew from Feilong a deep, low moan.

He found that his hands were clenched tight in Yoh's shirt, clinging desperately, pulling Yoh's solid, muscled body against his. How did this happen? His head felt so light, and, oh, god, he was throbbing: his heart, his pulse, his aching, aching cock.

He gasped, made the world flip, and Yoh was on his back on the floor. Italian, marble tile, Feilong noted approvingly. Straddling Yoh's hips, he narrowed his eyes. The lust in Yoh's was extremely gratifying.

"Let's get two things straight." Yoh's eyebrow cocked. "Clear," Feilong clarified with an eye roll as he pulled out his favorite knife. The buttons flicked off Yoh's shirt one by one.

Yoh listened.

"One. Don't even think that you are forgiven."

Yoh said nothing as his shirt fell open and the knife's edge drew slowly down his sternum, past his navel, following the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the slacks he was wearing. It cut through the fabric dangerously close to the impressive bulge that filled out the front and sliced a neat line down to his balls.

Not a muscle on Yoh's face twitched. Idly, Feilong wondered if the trousers were cut especially snug or if Yoh really was that...

Oh.

The knife landed on the floor with a clatter, soon covered by Feilong's expensive suit and his holstered guns.

"What is the second thing?" Yoh asked, his voice somewhat strained as Feilong, with the aid of the contents of a bottle of extra virgin olive oil, worked himself slowly onto Yoh's slick, hard cock.

"If anyone asks..." Feilong shuddered, groaned, Yoh's hand steadying his hips as he hilted himself completely. "I top."

There it was again, that barely there, elusive smirk. It reminded him of some-

"Ahh!" Feilong cried out as Yoh gave an experimental thrust of hips. His head falling back, eyes squeezing shut in grudging pleasure as Yoh began to move in earnest.

"Feilong-sama." Feilong never saw the smirk grow wider. "I live to serve."