Disclaimer : I don't own K project, it's GoRa and GoHands' fangirl torture device..

Title: Dance and Twirl

Fandom: [K] project

Rating: N17

Relationships: Misaru (Misaki/Saruhiko)

Word Count: 3,089

Summary: Can they not have anymore to themselves, other than a love that passed them by? Or perhaps, if he slowly breaks down the walls, Misaki could get Saruhiko to see that their relationship could indeed be salvaged.. ONE-SHOT, MisaRu, rated M for Smut. Mmmmm, Misaru is sexy. Mostly character analysis, written completely in Misaki's point of view. Enjoy (:

He starts at his neck.

Misaki knows he really should prepare his lover slowly, gently, but the brunette never permits him that sort of easy access. So teeth sank in an almost feral bite down that pale length of skin is where it all begins. It's almost a dance at this point, and Saruhiko never ever makes it easy with that high level of defenses he keeps up; always, Misaki finds himself having to flirt with murderous throwing knives and that ferocious flames-dipped sword just to reach out to his prince - one who's desperate to lock himself in.. Hiding far behind the tall walls of his heart. It's quite the ordeal just to get close enough.. But when he does, Saruhiko's startled stumble is always worth seeing.

Always.

The pain draws a loud exclamation from the other, and that's the abrupt end of their battle. Every single time. Not that Misaki has anything to complain about, of course. By this point he would've already tossed his metallic bat aside, skateboard abandoned.. And he does not hesitate to reach out, to feel the trembling wrists beneath his dancing fingers. Wide, cerulean eyes greet his sincere glance and Misaki could swear the younger boy was blushing from his scrutinizing gaze; so he pushes himself forward, and trails fierce kisses up to his ear. That's the cue for Saruhiko to drop his weapons, to try pushing Misaki away with hesitant arms.

Misaki all but tightens his grip to arrest him by the wrists, firm and unyielding..

And this is the point where his tongue finds Saruhiko's earlobe.

The brunette gasps sharply, as though he does not expect the move. It's too harsh a breath, too sudden a cry in response to Misaki's open advances. However gentle he tries to be, however many times they've met till this point is still not enough to render years worth of alienation, of self-preservation useless. Saruhiko cannot bring himself to accept this, to accept Misaki as nothing more but a fleeting dream that would disappear within the blink of an eye. Their 4 years worth of separation was a terribly long time, and the loneliness had set in, deep..

All the more making this temptation to dance so, so sweet.

Though, admittedly, Saruhiko's denial was their weakness.. Desperation is always evident in the swordsman's steps as brings himself before Misaki's seemingly unconcerned gaze, and it excites Misaki as much as it hurts. Maybe they could change. Maybe one day, he could get Saruhiko to see. Though the swordsman seem to think he had lost the ability to read Misaki's emotions - and that's really quite the joke..

Because he was never able to do so, in the first place.

Careful to keep his face hidden from his lover's view, Misaki tries to keep the fierce growl off his face. But with every step he takes towards Saruhiko, the brunette is quick to compensate with a step backwards, albeit in vain. Left with nowhere to run, Saruhiko all but flattens himself against the wall and struggles like a cornered cat; intimidating, but powerless.. And his violent reaction is oddly delectable. Not that he would have him any other way. What makes up for their difference in height is the brunette's knees buckling from the weakness.. As in a way, Misaki is thankful. When was he ever not, to be graced by his lover's presence? Pulling up Saruhiko's wrists, Misaki pins those petite arms above his head. Not rough enough to hurt.. But it leaves the swordsman little space to struggle with against his pressing frame.

This is where he'd feel the sudden moisture against his cheeks.. And Misaki brings his lips up to catch the sparkle of tears as they fall.

Saruhiko's pulse quickens sharply beneath Misaki's grip when he finds his parted lips taken over by Misaki's sudden, passionate kiss; But he does not resist this. Not yet, at least. His desperation is evident in his answer, proof of his desire for this from a long, long time ago. Perhaps, even from first sight; although admittedly, Misaki knows he was the one who had fallen headfirst for the stoic, almost bored brunette back then. If only they had known enough to share, with each other, these pent up feelings.. The urge to soften their kiss arises, but Misaki pushes the thought aside by sinking teeth into the other's lips; the sudden taste of copper on his tongue widen their eyes, and brings their gazes together.

He could really melt from glancing into those deep midnight blue..

But no, not yet - now, he was in control.

The burn of Saruhiko's forehead against his own brings a blush to Misaki's cheeks, and absentmindedly, he glides a free hand down to rest against Saruhiko's waist. It's fascinating every time, the way Saruhiko's body trembles against his own with every sharp intake of breath, and as they draw tongues together in a fierce tango, Misaki could feel the brunette's lips quivering with unspoken delight. Just imagine, if they could just start being honest about these feelings; but it was not in Saruhiko's character to speak his mind. If only he knew how to trigger it.. It is with this thought in mind that he feels Saruhiko drawing him closer with the quietest moan he could not hide, and Misaki leans forward to suckle on his lower lip, where he has just broke the skin..

Devoured together with that little helpless sound was Saruhiko's yelp of surprise, and it's all worth it, Misaki knows.

As though realizing that as a mistake, the brunette turns his head away sharply, almost knocking Misaki aside. It bubbles his irritation right to the surface, but no matter, he could be patient.. For this, for him. For Saruhiko, and no one else.. So Misaki returns his kisses back to the exposed length of Saruhiko's throat, chuckling at the access he was given as if it is a sign of victory. Nipping, he knows it's called, where he tugs at the skin just hard enough that it blooms in tiny marks, like cherry petals decorating the bite mark already there on his ivory skin. The pinned down wrists in his hand struggle with intensified panic, as though Saruhiko needed to physically hold his surprised cries back.. But they slip, without control, through trembling lips..

And Misaki is permitted a smile out of his lover's sight.

Beautiful. Just beautiful - there were no other words for the tempting sight spread before him.

Saruhiko's pulse pounds almost painfully against the skin of his neck at this point, and Misaki finds the brunette starting to sink against the wall.. Afraid to close his eyes - as though he is frightened that Misaki would simply just leave. Or disappear, like smoke. Which is ridiculous in the Misaki's opinion, because he's here. They're here, and there's no where else Misaki would want to be. Not to mention, Saruhiko's reactions are always so freshly delicious.. He would much prefer to watch those sapphire eyes water when he tugs at his pinned hands, distracting him, before he licks painfully slowly up the length of Saruhiko's neck.

He would shiver, uncontrollably, and Misaki would break his grasp when Saruhiko loses the strength in his legs.

Somehow, the loss of balance is an accident.

Every single time.

And this is where their dance changes.

Some nights, Saruhiko fights back - hard and fast, while he's at it, and Misaki has to battle against a furious denial that he could barely pin down. Saruhiko struggles; he pushes, twisting his hips where he gets the chance, screaming insults in a sharp voice as he wrestles against the frame pressing him into the wall. It's nights like these where Misaki has to secure the brunette with his hips, or better - bring him to the floor, where he could straddle the younger one instead. The scuffling peaks when he presses Saruhiko's shoulders down to hold him firmly, but ceases almost immediately if he was to lean in to nibble along the sensitive line of his ear.. Right down to his earlobe, where he has marked as his lover's major weakness. With this, however, Saruhiko's lips were free to talk; and in between kisses, the brunette makes it a point to constantly remind Misaki of just how much he hated this. Hated the lack of dominance he was subject to, probably, Misaki knows. But not the love, no.. Because neither of them could spare anymore time for that. During nights like these, Saruhiko keeps his eyes squeezed shut, moaning and crying in a confused mix of curses and ecstasy -

But climax is sweet, and even though the swordsman would curl himself into a tight ball afterwards..

He would not let Misaki go.

Other nights, the brunette is too tired to fight back. Saruhiko struggles, only minimally, then allows Misaki to wash away his tears and nightmares in his warm embrace. It's always wet these nights; the kisses, the desperate bite marks Saruhiko leaves running down Misaki's neck and shoulders, the tears that never seem to end.. Everything, too wet, too painful. Misaki knows, only vaguely, just how much the younger boy pins for him out of his sight; but it's a frustrating issue, because everyone else just refuses to tell him just how much pain the swordsman puts himself through. So he tries to see, to find the hints from Saruhiko. No, not from those tightly sealed lips, because Saruhiko would not speak.. Instead, Misaki directs those questions to his body, and learns from that trembling frame that melts against his without much effort from them both. These are the nights where he has to hold Saruhiko against his seated form, pushing up into him from below, and Saruhiko grips blinding around his back without putting up much of a fight. These are the nights where he allows Saruhiko to bite down hard onto his shoulder, so the brunette could stifle his cries and possibly, his wishes. Because he would never let them leave his lips..

And as hard as Misaki tried, Saruhiko would not speak his mind.

So he rests his hands in a comforting hold on the brunette's petite waist, hoping that one day his heat would help stop the quivering wrecking through his lover's frame. It's too wet; the tears running down his back, the squelching sounds as he thrusts again and again into the brunette's body.. But if he has to, he will grow to love this. Saruhiko gets gradually more and more vocal as he reaches his peak, and climax overcomes them both like a bright flash of white. These are the nights he's left with a Saruhiko who's exhausted, drained of his tears for now, left draped over his shoulders.. Misaki holds the taller boy lovingly, tightly in his arms, and secretly wishes he would never feel the need to go away, again.

But the dance repeats itself with the same routine - and very morning, Misaki finds himself waking up to greet empty sheets.

Well- almost every morning, until lately.. He's been allowed the pleasure of seeing more of Saruhiko's unguarded, resting face.

And tonight.. Tonight, is his favourite kind of night.

The nights when Saruhiko mewls, uncontainable and uncontrolled, eyes misty but struggling to focus as he squirms in Misaki's arms. Whether the brunette is struggling to speak, or just desperate to make himself understood, Misaki never quite figured. Still, it is sensual all the same, listening to the same soft sound squeezed out of those pallid, trembling lips. His voice quivers on every whimper, each barely louder than a whisper, incoherent as Misaki nibbles his way down his chest; his hips will try to move, to buckle, but his legs will do nothing to aid him.. And instead, Misaki is able to lay his lover's slackened form soft against the floor, take him by the back of his head and kissing him so soundly that in that moment.. Saruhiko lets go of everything. The clans, the wars, the jealousy.. Everything. In that moment, everything becomes meaningless to Saruhiko, save for trying to push himself harder against Misaki's body, begging quietly for their kiss to deepen.. And Misaki loves it when his lover gradually dances his tongue against his own.

He likes to slide Saruhiko's glasses off gently, setting them aside.. And watch those cloudy eyes flutters shut, with long lashes that slowly dances to a rest. As Saruhiko dips his head back, his midnight blue locks slips from that exposed, pale length of throat - and if anything, Misaki really treasures the way his little kitten mewls when he presses urgent kisses down his neck.. Which stop at his collarbones. Yes, indeed, his lover resembles a demanding kitten in every way; especially in how he purrs, if Misaki were to nibble down on his shoulders, tugging to leave soft red marks behind. Quick fingers dances across his chest, squeezing and rubbing at the sensitive buds and Saruhiko whimpers despite himself. His uniform comes undone with Misaki's clever fingertips, slipping off at his shoulders; they fall noiselessly onto the ground, piling around them like soft blankets, and by then he starts mumbling wordlessly without any ounce of control left.. Misaki rests a comforting finger on those lips as he starts brushing his lover's burnt out scars with pursed lips, and if he's lucky.. Saruhiko would tug at his hair in request for another one of those kisses.

Deep, slowly and lovingly, and Misaki loves this part without a doubt, because he gets to hear Saruhiko purr his name up close.

Nights like these, Misaki purposely starts slow.. Preparing his lover with swirling fingers that leaves him gripping at nothing by his sides. When he finds no purchase against the ground, Saruhiko moans; and it drives Misaki crazy with need to have those little sounds fill his senses. Then, with the long, careful strokes of his invading member, and Saruhiko would stutter on his mewling despite himself. Misaki loses focus at the delicious sound of his name broken on his lover's lips, but is brought back by the tight, familiar squeeze that just surrounds him- so pure, so perfect, and this was all Saruhiko. Just Saruhiko. Misaki likes this position the most, seeing the brunette spread helplessly before him.. Pinned beneath his frame..

And no one, Misaki knew, no one would deny Saruhiko's beauty in this moment.

"Please," Saruhiko's arms find themselves wrapping delicately around his neck, like a precious kitten in Misaki's embrace, and he struggles against his need to pull Misaki down against his chest. "Please," he whimpers, letting his head fall back in pure pleasure.

"Please.."

Misaki enjoys when he blabbering starts. When Saruhiko tilts his head to reveal his neckline, leaning into Misaki's shirt to start moaning into the fabric.. It's a simple sight that's almost too much for him to bear. Gasping into the shirt, the brunette begs him to hurry, to hold him less tightly; sometimes, just for another kiss, or a gentle touch of his fingers, wrapped against his cheek.. If Saruhiko seems too much in control, Misaki takes special measures: suddenly leaning over to blow warm air up his neck, or stroking teasingly up his waist until his fingertips comes to a rest at the scar on his collarbone..

The way it makes Saruhiko break is exquisite.

And he wouldn't have his kitten any other way.

The tension he builds in his lover is evident towards the end; he takes him slow, so painfully slow, and Saruhiko shudders without anyone but Misaki to cling onto. His back arches from the deep heat burning from deep within, and it's hot; Saruhiko's grip tightens around Misaki's neck desperately, and at times he can barely even hold onto Misaki's thrusting frame properly for his hands have gone too slick with sweat. Mewls dissolve into no more than broken cries by this point, and if he could find grip against Misaki's back, Saruhiko doesn't hesitate to claw his way down the tanned skin beneath his fingertips.. Begging, wordlessly, for Misaki to not hold him so tight, to speed up, to make the maddening build end.

But no - Misaki will steadily slow, until there is not but tears lining his lover's broken voice, robbing him of all his words..

All sounds, all moans, save for:

"Mi.. Saki.."

If he's lucky, really lucky.. He could hear Saruhiko desperately whispering for him to call out his name. The way Saruhiko's voice quakes at the shape of his name is almost excruciating, and if these could be bottled, or pocketed, Misaki would keep them forever close to his heart. Soft whimpers ring in his ears, and he could really leave Saruhiko hanging for just a few moments more.. But no, no, not with the way his name is repeatedly slipping from those shivering lips. A sob, needy and almost afraid, and Saruhiko has to to reach up a hand to cover his mouth, despite himself.. And Misaki nibbles at that hand until it feels the need to jerk away. As Saruhiko's eyes roll and his head falls, Misaki leans close, holding his lover so tenderly.. And mouths his love's name, soundlessly, right by his ear.

"Saru.."

"Misaki..!"

And he can feel it now, they both can.. That the climax is near. But tension is sweet as the air that's filled with Saruhiko's desperate whimpers, and by instinct, Miaski reaches out his free hand to take Saruhiko's, to intertwine their fingers together. Deliberately giving his lover a small squeeze to draw his misty gaze, Misaki tenses for a final thrust.. Saruhiko's flushed frame quivers beneath Misaki's scrutinizing gaze, and for added measures, Misaki makes certain that their eyes meet.

"Misa.. Ki..!"

Release finds the brunette with a name on his lips and his hand held tightly by his one, true, love. In that moment, with his last plea hanging in the soft breeze and in their ears.. Misaki loves him, his Saruhiko, more than anything in this world.