One thing was for sure, atleast. I was really fucking drunk.

But that's alright, I thought, stumbling into the hotel room. Aiji and Jun had been more than enough fun to accompany my decent into intoxication. Aside from the hang over I'm sure to have in the morning, I'll be fine. Or so I thought, until I passed through the foyer and into the bedroom. I got the impression that all the liquid I had consumed over the past few hours was rushing into my groin, hot and burning at the sight of him standing there, bouncing back and forth from one foot the other, his arms bent at the elbow, hands at his chest, he singing softly. I love the sound of Kirito's voice. Adore the roughness, like sandpaper catching on silk. In my drunkeness it is just the spark I need to set fire to the fuel in my veins.

There is another voice in my head besides Kirito's, one that says I shouldn't do what I know I'm about to, but I ignore it, let Kirito's drawn out notes vibrate through my alcoholic mind and block out what might be my voice of reason. As he turns to me, I offer a smile with what control I have left of the muscles in my face. God, I'm plasterd, and it just makes him look even more beautiful than usual. "Kon bon waaa~~~ Onii-channn," I slur, making my way sloppily over to where he stands by the window. He smiles and I see him put something away into his back pocket.

"Hey, little bro... you look... drunk." His tone is flat and emotionless. I both love and hate his monotonous expression. I closed my eyes and nodded slowly.

"Oh yesh. Drunk desu." I sounded ridiculous, I'm sure, but words were just put in place to satisfy the conversation he wanted to have with me. I wanted to have something else. Wanted it bad. Stepping forward, I felt the tension in my jeans once more and let out a nearly inaudible groan through my nose. "Kirito..." I tripped and fell into his arms, pushing us both down against the window seat. "Heh, Kirito... what... what would... oh my." I looked down at my hands as Kirito shrank against the window, ashamed. A picture of me. Recent enough, but still dogeared and worn around the edges, with the words "love forever and distantly" in black ink over my chest. I had pulled it from his pocket.

I stuttered and he stuttered and even though we could not find the words to right the situation, or perhaps lie our way through it, I had enough sense, even drunk, to pull out my wallet and throw the picture at him, sitting at his knees as he picked it up and looked. His cheeks were red, but he smiled, laughed a little, even. "This is from high school, Kohta-chan!" His first time wearing make-up in public. I made a point of documenting the event, and also made a point of writing my only real secret against the back of it. "My one true love." He read it out loud, traced his long fingers over the words, turned it over and over again in his hands as if searching for something more. Finally, he sighed and his hands dropped to his lap. "My one true love," he said again, but this time he was not reading the photo. He turned his dark eyes up to me and I opened my mouth to speak... and closed it again. It was no use trying to say these things. I'd only find myself ashamed or uncomfortable. Besides, could words touch him the way my hands could? Would words caress his mouth like a kiss? Would words ever be able to really tell him I loved him like being inside of him would? Fuck words. I let my actions speak for me.

I took him into my arms. Swiftly and firm. He gasped and then relaxed, bending so that his body fit like a glove against my own. Hesitantly, I kissed his neck. He didn't try to pull away. Nipping my way up, I hovered over his lips and watched his eyes, wide and afraid and begging. He simply leaned his head closer as an answer, as an invitation he could never take back, and with a sigh and a stiffled scream inside me, I kissed him.

He tasted of cigarettes and mint gum. Of sweat and sweetness. Of my desire. I drank it all in deeply, just as he drank from me. "Kohta..." His face was turned away and his breath steamed against the cold window, his fingers making trails in it as he brought his hand up to stroke my face and then tangle in my short hair. As I manuevered between his legs, he wrapped himself around me willingly. So supple and beautiful, his dark eyes reflecting his elder years in the face that looked so much like mine. My brother, my Kirito. Mine. "Can't... unh... wait..." I thought I would die just hearing the words, and almost felt myself let go when he dug his fingers into my shoulders and brought his hips up against mine. "Waited too long," he panted into my ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth and sliding his tongue inside, making me shiver. "Too long, just do it." His hands were desperately trying to undress us.

I always knew it, and this only confirmed my prophecy; his haste, my trance. This was simply meant to happen, and I had known it all along.

I broke away from him just long enough to rid us both of our clothes and rejoined him again with a shout. The sudden feel of hot, bare skin against my own, his skin, was almost unbearable. I held his waist and looked down at his beautiful body, taking it all in before returning my eyes to his face and my hips against his. He kissed me and shifted us so that his back was against the thick window, looking out high above Tokyo. I put my hand on either side of him and settled on my knees beneath him, he wrapping his legs around my waist, desperatly fighting for leverage to thrust against me with. I pressed his body flush against the glass and felt him shiver both in pleasure and cold before rolling my hips languidly into his. He moaned, a shaking, raspy thing that rolled past his kiss swollen lips like a full, storm powered wave, crashing over me as I pushed against him again. I could tell by his teeth gritting growls that he didn't want to wait.

I take what I said back. There is one word worth uttering, and so I let it spill past my lips and onto his, trapping it between them with my tongue that danced with his in the space between our faces, so alike. "Kirito..."

Frustrated and needy, he snatched one of my hands up to his mouth and began to lick and suck each finger up and down until it was slick with his saliva, and blood from where he had bitten my lip and let it pour against his tongue. With just as much demanding urgency, he pushed my hand down between his legs, against his tight entrance. "Do it. God, do it now, Kohta." He threw back his head and arched off the glass, pressing his body into mine. We were both so ready, the head of his lovely cock already dripping and smearing his essence in a faint trail over my stomach.

Now, he told me, and so I did. I pushed two fingers into him and wriggled them about slowly, and when he didnt scream, added a third. He had done this before, I could tell, but I didn't care. As long as it was me this time, it didn't matter. Retracting my fingers, I put the tip of my length to his opening. I didn't want to hurt him, but I couldn't and wouldn't waste time trying to find lubcricant. I think he would have agreed. I waited until he opened his eyes and watched them carefully, pushing into him slowly. He didn't falter, only opening his mouth wider and grasping my shoulders desperately. He felt amazing. Not just being inside him, but touching him alone. His burning skin, just a shade lighter against my own, his eyes, his body at all, and mostly, his aura washing over me, like a cool spring to a dying man. Slowly, then faster, I began.

I didn't think, there was no technique to it, just in and out of him as hard and fast as I could. The sounds that filled my ears were enough to let me know I was pleasing him; sighs, groans, my name, over and over again. His teeth grazed my shoulders and neck and he often pulled my head up to kiss me deeply. Closer, closer. Not only to my release, but to him. Closer than I could ever have imagined being to him. I could swear, as lighting bursts of orgasm danced in front of my eyes, I was part of him.

He collapsed gently against me and I held him, leaning him against the glass, now fogged over and streaked with hands and the print of his body. Trying to gain our breath, I realize how thin he is, frail and beautiful in my arms, like a doll made of glass. I kiss him sloppily behind the ear. "Kirito."

"Kohta," he breathes into my neck, holding me tightly to him. "Kohta, promise me you'll always be there, promise me we can do this again. Promise me, Kohta... Kohta..."

Pulling back, I stare into his half lidded eyes. Always be there... would I? Yes.

And I gave my answer to him in a kiss.

+owari