Deep Emotion [ dearka x yzak ]

Fanfiction
Read the Terms of Usage

Notes: Written while listening to Shoot For The Future (vocal and karaoke) on repeat. My first lemon, for Yzak-san as a belated Christmas present. XD Enjoy.

December 25^th, CE 70.

Yzak, under normal circumstances, was not one who was known to take part in instances of revelry or parties or anything involving ‘fun'. Unless it involved competition or games of any form (in which he was more than happy to take on challengers if it meant BEATING them), he generally preferred not to waste time at such trivial, frivolous activities.

And so it was rather unusual for Dearka to see his friend jeering gleefully and repeatedly slamming his fist on the table with several other soldiers as they cheered on Rusty's horrendously off-key singing with the latter dancing on the table with a sparkly party hat, his standard-issue boxers, and nothing else.

Then again, maybe that glass of eggnog Yzak was happily sloshing around had something to do with his apparent good cheer. Dearka couldn't be sure how many of the empty cups stacked haphazardly on the table had been his, but it was likely one too many, judging by Yzak's red face and very loud yells of ‘Take it off! Take it all off!!'

Miguel probably spiked the drinks again. The normal stuff we get here isn't even enough to warm the insides. Sure enough, a few suspicious-looking glass bottles peeked out from under Ayman's table. The culprit himself, swaying on his feet, was almost done throwing off his pants to join Rusty on the table.

Grinning, Dearka dug out a camera from his pockets and set about preserving what promised to be good memories. Very good memories.

***

Several hours later found the dark-skinned youth hauling his inebriated friend down the cold metal corridor to their room. He turned out to be one of the few remaining people still capable of walking straight.

Today in history: Yzak Jule, drunk for the first time in his life, Dearka noted wryly. Shifting his grip on Yzak's arm and body, he paused to think. Then again, he was technically old enough for alcohol...

Barely old enough. Dearka's face clouded over. Hell, too many of us are way too young for this. Damned Naturals and their damned war.

Yzak stirred slightly and mumbled something incoherent. Shaking himself out of his funk (blaming the two glasses of Miguel's ‘specials' he'd been forced to take), Dearka carried him to the door, fumbled slightly with the keypad until he punched in the right code and the door slid open quietly.

Damn, Yzak, he grunted as they entered, what the hell have you been eating lately?

Gently setting his burden on the nearest bunk, he peeled off his uniform with a mild grimace. As if he needed another reminder of why alcohol was high on the list of Bad Ideas In Life; Nicol had hugged him rather abruptly, told him how much he loved his ‘pretty yellow hair', and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach down the front of Dearka's uniform.

Ah well. At least he'd gotten the photos of Athrun parading around the room with Miguel's boxers over his head and proclaiming that he was Klueze-taichou.

At the cost of having seen Ayman-sempai naked. Dearka contorted his face into something between a grin and a wince. Dumping the soiled articles of clothing into the laundry chute, he stretched and yawned, scratching his head. He considered taking a bath for about fifteen seconds, then decided against it since he'd probably fall asleep in the shower or something. He plodded back to his bed and sat heavily on it, clad in shirt and shorts.

Wait. What's Yzak doing on my bunk?

Blinking, the realization that he had put his friend on the wrong bed crawled through his foggy mind. Dearka didn't really feel like carrying Yzak again, but he probably wouldn't be too happy finding Dearka sleeping on his bunk either. The guy was fiercely territorial about his space, for some reason.

He'd found that out the hard way when he took a nap on Yzak's empty bunk once waking to find himself being shoved off the bed.

...with a metal dustpan.

Yzak rolled onto his side, his eyes closed, murmuring to himself. Dearka looked at him for a time.

Moonlight shone through a gap between the curtains, revealing the sharp outlines and curves of the sleeping boy's face. When he slept, thought Dearka, one wouldn't have thought that this was the same tantrum-throwing hothead he'd known for so long. The lines that creased his forehead in the day as he frowned or snapped at people were smoothed over in repose.

Dearka raised a hand, placing his fingers only a hair's breadth from Yzak's face. He traced the darkening bags under his eyes with a wry smile; he was always practicing, training, trying to gain that edge above everyone else in anything he did in the academy, even at the cost of sleep. The blond had, more than once, forcibly pulled him out of the training simulators early in the morning, only managing to stop his outraged protests with the reminder that Klueze probably wouldn't be too happy if he fell asleep on his feet the next day.

He never mentioned that he couldn't get to sleep without the sound of Yzak's light snores.

Dearka brushed the silver bangs from the forehead. Miguel's stuff must've been stronger than I thought. I'm getting funny ideas.

He lowered his hand, brushing ever so slightly against a smooth cheek.

Wonder what would it be like, to...

He closed the distance and kissed him gently on the lips.

...and suddenly eyelids fluttered open.

"...Dearka?"

The blond jerked away as though he'd been slapped. Staring at the silver-haired boy beneath him, who was blinking blearily up, he gulped.

"I... I can explain—"

A hand lashed out and grabbed his collar.

"Shut up," Yzak growled.

Dearka gulped.

To his surprise, he found himself yanked downward, his lips pressing against Yzak's in a heated kiss.

***

Sirens were going off in Dearka's mind, even as his body was reacting to the feel of Yzak's warmth against him, his tongue probing the recesses of Yzak's mouth and his hands sliding under Yzak's waist and back, pulling him up against him.

What the fuck are you doing?! You don't kiss your best friend! Especially your MALE best friend, a voice screamed at him. He knew that. He knew he shouldn't be doing this; a lifetime of education in society's rules told him that it was wrong, so utterly wrong.

But how can something so wrong feel so right?

Breaking the kiss, Dearka pulled back, breathing heavily. He shook his head. "Yzak... we shouldn't be doing this..."

Yzak stared up at him, face flushed and sweating. "I thought I told you to shut up," he said in the barest of whispers.

"It's the alcohol. We're both drunk. There's no way you'd be talking like this if you were sober," Dearka protested.

A finger reached up and flicked Dearka on the forehead.

"Ow! The hell--?!"

"You think I can't hold my alcohol as well as you?" The familiar smirk was there, even in the dark. "Bastard. Don't underestimate me."

He widened his eyes. "Then...why...?"

"Because..." There was a flicker of emotion in those blue eyes as Yzak frowned, "...Because I want to. So just shut up already."

Dearka's reply was cut off by another kiss. Rational thought slipping away, he reacted instinctively, fumbling with the catches of Yzak's uniform even as the other boy slipped his hands under Dearka's shirt, smoothing over the tense muscle and skin. Their growing arousals grinded against each other, sending waves of heat rushing through him. A moan escaped him.

"And you want to, damn it," Yzak growled, nipping at Dearka's earlobe as his jacket was peeled off him and thrown somewhere on the floor. Dearka moved downward, nibbling on Yzak's collarbone as he pulled at the army-issued shirt identical to his own.

"You bet I do," the blond replied, his eyes lit by an inner fire. Gripping the other boy's shirt with both hands, he tore it off him, pulling the cloth out from under him and throwing it away, his kisses immediately moving down to the smooth expanse of flesh previously hidden by the shirt. Yzak cursed, his words cut off in a hiss as Dearka ran a thumb around his exposed nipple.

"Fuck... you owe me a new shirt, horny bastard."

"I didn't see you helping me get it off," Dearka muttered, straightening and taking his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor before covering Yzak's slender frame with his, kissing and licking at the pale skin as he continued rubbing a hardening nipple. Hands fisted in his hair. He could hear the boy's soft panting, taste the salty sweat on him.

He moved his lips from their ministrations on his skin to the other nipple, licking the tip of the nub. Yzak moaned, jerking slightly as Dearka's lips closed around his nipple, sucking at it, teasing it with his tongue.

"Aah...nn..."

The sounds of pleasure arousing him further, he slid his hands along Yzak's waist and belly, undoing the catch of his shorts and pulling them down and off him, leaving the boy in nothing but his briefs, which couldn't hide the hard bulge protruding under it. Dearka brushed his hands against Yzak's crotch, eliciting a loud groan from the boy, feeling his own cock harden in response.

Abruptly, Yzak shoved him away. Dearka stared at him, his cock throbbing painfully and telling him to just pin the boy on the bed and take him right there and then---

His thoughts were cut off by Yzak's fingers undoing his shorts. Slipping over the waistband of his underwear, he pulled both articles of clothing down the blond's legs. Dearka finished the job, removing them the rest of the way.

There was a pause.

"God." Yzak seemed momentarily taken aback. "If you lean back and look at it, it's huge..."

Dearka grinned, feeling a tinge of pride. Yzak's glare penetrated the darkness as he leaned forward, brushing his fingers against the tip of the glistening shaft. Dearka hissed, involuntarily bucking his hips.

Yzak was smirking, now. It was the smirk he wore in a game when he knew that the scales were in his favor. Ducking his head, he licked the head of Dearka's cock with the tip of his tongue.

Dearka moaned, his hands fisting in the sheets, biting back a loud cry as Yzak took him into his mouth, sucking the drops of precum that dribbled out from his cock, his teeth lightly grazing against the hard shaft, which seemed to thicken even more as hot blood flowed into the vessels within it. Gritting his teeth, he thrust up into Yzak's mouth, shoving his cock into his throat. Yzak gagged and pulled away, glaring at the panting boy.

"S...sorry." He shook his head. "I just... I want us to do it together."

Yzak would have made a scathing remark if the sincerity of Dearka's tone and the look in his eyes hadn't stopped him. His angry expression softened slightly, and he sighed.

"Alright." He looked away, his bangs concealing his face. "The bathroom. There's... there's some lotion we can use."

"....Lotion? What for?"

The silver-haired boy snapped his head back to stare at Dearka incredulously. "What the hell? You read all those porn magazines and you don't know how the thing's supposed to go?!"

Dearka folded his arms defensively. "Hey, those were girls I was looking at. I thought it was just Tab A going into Slot B, or Slot C if the person has no Slot B."

"I'll make this clear, Dearka. You are NOT shoving that giant sausage of yours up my ass without lubricant. Go and get the fucking lotion."

Wincing, he complied.

***

He returned moments later, tube in hand, to find that Yzak had removed his briefs and was currently lying on the bed with an arm resting on his forehead, staring at the ceiling. He took a moment to just appreciate the beauty of the boy; his pale, almost-white skin was smooth and unmarred, the curves of his body shapely enough to be a girl's. In fact, Dearka thought in amusement, Yzak would look like a girl if you added breasts and took away the equipment on the crotch...

Speaking of equipment. He couldn't help staring at Yzak's cock, firmly erect and swollen. Very much swollen.

"Can't beat mine," Dearka muttered sullenly.

Yzak glanced at him and snorted. "Admit it, Dearka. Mine's longer than yours." He sat up, smirking. Dearka growled and sat on the bed, checking both their penises before grudgingly admitting that Yzak was longer than him.

"But I'm still bigger," he grumbled, crawling over the boy's body. Yzak lightly squeezed his cock, causing Dearka to almost collapse on him, his limbs abruptly turning the consistency of jelly.

"Right... works for me." He nibbled on the blond's neck.

"Selfish bastard." Uncapping the tube with one hand, Dearka squeezed some lotion onto it. He gripped the tube lightly with his teeth as he applied the oily cream onto his erection, hissing at the sudden sensation of coolness on the heated skin, his other hand propping himself up. Yzak spread his legs wide in anticipation, watching Dearka silently, his chest heaving from their earlier foreplay his arms trembled slightly.

Squirting more lotion onto his fingers, Dearka placed them at the opening of Yzak's ass, not quite touching the surface.

"I'll try to be gentle," he murmured.

Yzak's lips twitched. "I know. I trust you."

Slowly, he slid a lubricated finger past the ring of muscle. Yzak cringed slightly, feeling slight jolts of pain as he felt himself stretched wider, his body instinctively attempting to repel the intrusion by contracting around the digit. A second finger entered, and small whimpers escaped him.

"Shh... Am I doing it wrong?" Dearka's brow furrowed, his fingers withdrawing slightly. A hand whipped out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. Yzak shook his head.

"No, you idiot. It's... supposed to hurt at first. Just go on... it gets better."

Still uncertain, Dearka continued, scissoring his fingers to stretch him wider even as he buried them deeper within Yzak. The silver-haired boy moaned and writhed, his head turning from side to side as waves of pleasure and pain surged through him.

A touch against Dearka's arm, and he pulled the digits out. Yzak smiled weakly.

"Now," he whispered, "now you shove that up my ass."

He complied willingly, placing the tip of his erection at the opening. His arms snaked under Yzak's knees, pulling his hips upward before slowly sliding his penis in. He moaned softly at the warm wetness surrounding him, resisting the urge to just shove himself in all the way. Yzak whimpered, more out of pleasure than pain as Dearka took him.

The thrusts were slow but deep, gradually quickening in pace as Dearka discovered that Yzak was able to receive it. His hips snapped back and forth rhythmically, burying himself to the hilt, Yzak's moans and impassioned whimpers spurring him on. He shifted slightly to relieve the pressure on his knees and thrust at just a slightly different angle than before...

"Ahh!! Oh God..." Yzak's fingers fisted in the sheets, his body jerking off the bed. Dearka froze, staring at the boy, who stared back with an equally stunned expression.

"Did I just hurt you?"

"Hell no!" he immediately replied. "Just... surprised me, is all. That last one... I think you hit something inside."

"...was that good?"

"Better." Yzak glared at him. "And if you don't start moving again in the next five seconds I'm going to—"

Two hands shot out and pushed the silver-haired boy onto the bed. Dearka leaned over him, grinning, his hands holding Yzak down by the shoulders.

"I don't think you're in any position to make threats," he whispered. "In fact," he added as Yzak struggled against his weight, cursing loudly, "I think this would be a good time for you to tell me why you really want to do this with me."

"Damn it, Dearka!" Yzak yelled angrily, wanting that fiery pleasure he'd experienced moments ago. "This is fucking blackmail!!"

"Say it, Yzak," he whispered next to his ear. The silver-haired boy let out a frustrated whimper, thrusting his hips upwards in vain as Dearka's hands pinned him to the bed.

"Why should... I?" he snarled defiantly.

"Because..." God, he was so close; his cock ached, Yzak's muscles contracting all around him... he didn't know how long his restraint could last. Dearka managed a grin.

"Because I want you to," he echoed the other boy's earlier words. "So just tell me already."

"Damned wiseass... ahh!" Yzak cried out abruptly, a hard thrust against his prostate sending jolts of fiery pleasure through him. Involuntarily, his muscles clenched, his lower body bucking against Dearka's strong grip. He glared at the smirking blond, who had stopped yet again.

"Stop teasing me... bastard."

"Say it." The voice was low, sensuous, insistent. The hard shaft buried inside him shifted the tiniest bit. Yzak moaned, his lips mouthing silent words.

"What was that? I can't hear you."

"I said I love you, bastard!" he yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders and gripping tightly. "So just finish the damned job already!!"

Dearka couldn't help it. He chuckled slightly, running a thumb over Yzak's reddened cheekbones, flushed from pleasure and emotion. "Is that it? Because you love me?"

Turning his face away, he nodded ever so slightly, his face hidden by his hair.

"Wouldn't expect you to understand. Go on. Laugh. Call me a fool or a messed-up pervert. Call it wrong or dirty, I don't give a damn--"

"You idiot." Dearka silenced him with a finger to his lips. "You think you're the only one who feels that way?"

Yzak stared up at him, wide-eyed. "You mean..."

He nuzzled his lips against his neck, murmuring a quiet ‘I love you too' followed by a sudden deep, hard thrust. Yzak cried out in surprise and pleasure, jerking his hips against Dearka's, taking in every bit of his powerful thrusts as they increased, going faster and faster, ramming against that sweet spot within him repeatedly until he thought he would explode from the sheer pleasure of it all, drawing closer to that edge which he wanted to throw himself over to fall into the abyss.

Dearka grunted with every movement, the rhythmic clenching of Yzak's muscles around his cock driving him crazy, the blood rushing in and hardening his shaft to almost painful proportions. He held the boy close to him, kissing him, muffling the impassioned sounds emitted from Yzak's lips, his hands touching him everywhere. He needed release, he couldn't hold on much longer, and they were close, so close...

A hand snaked down between their writhing bodies, finding Yzak's stiff cock and closing around it just as Dearka withdrew and shoved himself deep within Yzak's ass.

"Aaah! Aan..." It was too much for him; he screamed into Dearka's mouth, feeling his orgasm burning through him, sending him to new heights even as his hands clutched Dearka's body, his fingernails drawing blood from the dark skin, keeping him earthbound as his body jerked and spilled his semen over their joined bodies, his whimpers and moans sounding over and over in the darkness. Dearka followed immediately after, groaning loudly as he climaxed, hips bucking over and over, spurting warm fluid into his lover's body.

His lover, he thought hazily, his body slumping on him, feeling trickles of sweat sliding down his ribs and onto Yzak's heaving chest, their labored breaths the only sound in the room.

He liked the sound of those two words.

Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes. Tentatively, Dearka slid his softened cock out of Yzak's ass, causing the silver-haired boy to moan slightly. He slid an arm under Yzak, pulling him under his chin in an embrace.

There was silence for a time.

"...Dearka?"

"...mm?"

"We're not sleeping in your bed tonight."

"....why?"

"...do I really have to say it?"

"...fine. But next time, we're messing up your bed."

"You'd better be glad I'm even letting you on my bed in the first place, asshat."

"You bet I am." Dearka sat up and got onto his feet. Scooping Yzak into his arms, he made their way to the other bunk and set him down before snuggling his way into their prior position. A slight tingle of pain on his back made him look.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"You cut me. Look."

Sure enough, there were several crescent-shaped wounds on his shoulder blades, glistening with blood.

"...sorry."

"Whoa. Did I just hear Yzak Jule apologize? That's a record."

"Don't push it, Dearka. Roll over on your front."

He obeyed without question. Craning his neck behind him, he couldn't see, but feel, Yzak climbing on him. The silver-haired boy gently licked the wounds, the coppery taste of blood mixing with salty sweat. Dearka closed his eyes, relishing the sensations.

When he stopped, he tucked himself back under Dearka's chin, pulling an arm over himself.

"There. Now you're not staining my bed."

"...thanks. I think."

He felt him huff, and held in a chuckle.

"No, I mean it. Thank you."

Yzak grunted something barely audible, closing his eyes. Dearka nuzzled his nose on the silver strands of hair, feeling the weariness of afterglow creeping up on him.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he murmured.

~end