Categories > Anime/Manga > Sex Pistols

Love Song to a Stranger

by YasminM 4 reviews

Yonekuni and Shiro spend their first night together. Written for Round I of Yaoi Challenge 2005, on request by Spren.

Category: Sex Pistols - Rating: R - Genres: Romance - Characters: Shiro, Yonekuni - Warnings: [!!!] [X] - Published: 2005-08-15 - Updated: 2005-08-16 - 649 words - Complete

Disclaimer: Sex Pistols and related characters belong to Kotobuki Tarako. The title of this fic is borrowed, with love, from Joan Baez.

Notes: Set within the time gap in chapter seven. This story was initially posted to the yaoi_challenge community at LiveJournal. See you in Round II!


Shiro's lips part for the first finger without protest, and hesitate only a second before allowing the second. Yonekuni counts the hard bumps of Shiro's teeth with his fingertips -- incisors, canines -- and slips his fingers deeper to touch the spit-slicked roughness of Shiro's tongue.

Shiro's canines are sharp, but he doesn't mark Yonekuni the way Yonekuni marks him. Yonekuni straddles Shiro's chest and counts the fading bruises he left behind (/did I?/): a bite near the pulse point on Shiro's neck, teethmarks on a shoulder, bruises like twin stars over Shiro's nipples.

When he pulls his fingers away, Shiro is still watching him.

"Open wider," Yonekuni says, rough; and slides his cock into Shiro's mouth, rough; fucks Shiro's mouth, rough; and Shiro's lips open and close around him, sweetly yielding.


Shiro laughs when Yonekuni rubs his nose down the curve of Shiro's spine and makes snuffling sounds, reaching behind him to push Yonekuni away from a ticklish spot.

"I didn't think you could be--"

Yonekuni raises his eyebrows.

"-- ah, sweet," Shiro says, stuttering to an uncomfortable stop.

The back of his neck burns a dark, tempting red. Yonekuni takes up the invitation and licks the skin, tracing a line to Shiro's ear with his tongue.

"I can be sweeter," Yonekuni says.

Shiro shifts, curving up to fit Yonekuni's body. "I know."

"No, you don't."


Yonekuni coils around Shiro's form, soaking up the heat and the smell of Shiro's skin, overlaid by the scent of his soap. His smell, on /his/--

Shiro is watching the silent procession of seconds on Yonekuni's clock, 1-2-3-4-5, the green glow reflecting in his eyes. Yonekuni blindfolds them with his fingers, runs his other hand down Shiro's torso, teasing the dip of Shiro's navel.

He kisses Shiro, again. A different kiss this time, again. Before this night is over Yonekuni will use all the kisses he knows, and discovers them anew on Shiro: on the firm line of masculine hips, on sharply-defined eyebrows, on the fragile folds of skin on prominent knuckles.

Shiro curls into his kisses, toes flexing against Yonekuni's calves. His eyelashes flutter in the confines of Yonekuni's hand, like butterflies in a bottle. Yonekuni removes his hand, slightly disturbed by the image -- by the sudden heat it provokes in him -- but Shiro's eyes have the look of a man freed.

Shiro's hand closes around Yonekuni's cock and jerks him off hard and fast, the way Yonekuni likes it. He watches Yonekuni watching him with a smile devoid of secrets, the tip of his tongue touching a corner of Yonekuni's mouth -- and when Yonekuni comes, he whispers something true.


He loses count of the number of times they've done this. Later, he will only remember wordless voices and the sound of skin sliding on linen sheets, towards the end.

For now, his world is as clean as he's ever seen it, narrowed down to the tight clench of Shiro's body and Shiro's blunt fingernails digging into his back. Shiro's restraints are gone, and Yonekuni does not mourn their passing.

Yonekuni discovers that he loves to make Shiro beg, that Shiro's polite mannerisms during the day give way into a body willing to do anything, everything for a hard fuck. Shiro opens to his desires with pleasure unstinting, moving under him with lip-biting anticipation for the next thrust or kiss or touch.

Perhaps there is desperation, quiet and resigned, in Shiro's kiss. Yonekuni sees nothing but his hand clasped around Shiro's wrist, pinning it down where it belongs best.


Yonekuni doesn't know how he's lived for so long without remembering this.

Sign up to rate and review this story