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Contempt and Aftertaste	By : leviathen Category: +G through L > King of Fighters Views: 2344 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own King of Fighters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Contempt and Aftertaste
- 1
Kyo
hated being mad at Iori, but sometimes his lover deserved it. And
this time, he wasn't going to break down and be the one to fix
things. It was always him.

Before
Iori, Kyo had a life. He'd been his own person, doing his own thing
and he really didn't care
about anybody else. It was harsh, maybe, but it was the truth. And
then he'd gotten himself accidentally drugged and kept coming back
for more, and... okay, maybe he knew what he was signing up for when
he agreed to all this. But sometimes he hated it.

It
had been two days and Kyo was still determined not to speak. He put
dinner on the table without a word, and they ate the meal without
speaking. A couple of times he found himself opening his mouth to say
something, but he shut it just as quickly. He wasn't the only person
in this relationship, and he wasn't going to be the one to mend
things this time.

Iori
helped him clean up afterward, and maybe that was an improvement. Kyo
wouldn't know; he was too busy staring at the wall so he wouldn't
even be able to see the redhead out of the corner of his eye.

That
was probably why he dropped the saucer in the first place. He jerked
as he felt the class cut into his palm, hissing through his teeth and
then biting his tongue to keep from saying anything. Kyo glanced
down; already the blood was welling up across the palm of his hand.
He supposed he should go clean it up.

Iori's
hand caught his own in a surprisingly gentle gesture, and Kyo's eyes
darted to the redhead's face before he could stop them. Iori wiped
the damp washcloth across his palm without looking up.

Kyo
started in surprise. “Stop
that,” he snapped, trying to pull his hand back. Iori's grip
tightened. “It hurts.”

“It
wouldn't hurt if you would stop being an idiot.”

Iori
didn't wait for a response, and Kyo was too surprised to give him one
anyway. Iori's mouth lowered to the cut on his hand, his lips and
tongue much gentler than the washcloth had been. Kyo shivered at the
sensation, watching his lover and trying to decide what he was doing.

Iori's
mouth stopped suddenly, and all Kyo felt was gentle suction and the
barest scrape of teeth before Iori was straightening, reaching up and
spitting something into his palm. A long, thin shard of glass had
embedded itself in the cut and Iori had, apparently, sucked it out.

“Come
on.”

Kyo
found himself being dragged toward the bathroom, and he followed
along dumbly because he didn't know what else to do. Iori shoved his
palm under the water, hunting for something in the medicine cabinet
with his free hand.

Kyo
was torn between watching Iori's impassive, unchanging face and the
small but steady stream of his own blood going down the drain, and he
jumped when Iori shut the water off and dumped the bottle of peroxide
over his hand.

The
older man carefully applied an antibiotic ointment of some kind with
a Q-Tip and then wrapped the hand in gauze, watching what he was
doing but glancing up to glare at Kyo. “You should be more
careful,” he snapped. “What did you think you were
doing?”

“I
didn't care as long as it meant ignoring you.”

“And
you never thought that maybe you got your point across two days ago
when this whole argument took place?”

“Who
cares? I'm mad at you.
Don't talk to me right now!”

“Fine.”
Iori grabbed his shirt and tossed him, and for half of a terrible
second Kyo thought that he might actually have to fight
but Iori just threw him against the door frame. Kyo's head slammed
painfully into the wood, and he opened his mouth to protest but found
it filled with Iori's tongue instead. Roughly, the older man pinned
him, forcing Kyo to stand still.

“You
jerk!” Kyo snapped when Iori pulled away. He wiped his mouth
with the back of his uninjured hand, glaring. The coppery, rich
aftertaste of his own blood was on Iori's tongue, and now in his
mouth as well. “Fuck you!”

Iori's
eyes darkened and he picked Kyo up around the waist, slinging him
over his shoulder. Kyo yelped, unused to such rough treatment and
nearly banging his head on the door frame again,
decided it was best for him to hold still as he watched the whole
world going by upside-down. Iori dumped him on their bed, then stood
back. “Fuck me then. If you think you can.”

Kyo
bounced when his ass hit the bed, and after Iori's challenge he sat
for a second or two, wondering if his lust outweighed his anger. He
decided that it did, and he reached up to tangle his fingers in
Iori's shirt and throw him to the mattress too.

“I
fucking hate you sometimes,” Kyo snapped, unbuttoning Iori's
shirt.

“I
know. It makes you interesting.” Iori reached up to pull Kyo's
shirt over his head.

Kyo
jerked away. “Don't fucking touch
me. I was serious!”

Iori's
hand fell away and he didn't speak a word. Kyo bent down, lowering
his mouth to a tan nipple and licking a few times, then biting down.
Hard. Not that it mattered; Iori didn't even hiss. Just for kicks he
did it to the other one, too, wrapping his teeth around it and
pulling it away from Iori's chest.

Iori's
hands remained at his sides. Kyo sat up again, straddling Iori's
waist and grinding their clothed cocks together as he pulled his own
shirt over his head.

“Stop
staring at me like that!” Kyo snapped, running his hand over
Iori's stomach.

“Like
what? You're beautiful when you're stripping and horny.”

Kyo
blushed. “Stop trying to seduce me!”

“Who
said I was trying?” Iori asked, his voice velvety smooth.

Kyo
growled, leaning down to brush his nose against his lover's. Iori
opened his mouth, and Kyo kissed him hard, shaking with the desire to
just slap him for being such a prick. He settled for grabbing a
fistful of Iori's hair and yanking upward, pressing their mouths
together so roughly that their teeth clicked together. Iori's hands
on the blankets tightened into fists, but he didn't reach up to touch
Kyo.

“I
love how your muscles move under your skin,” Iori murmured.
“Such a powerful little kitten I've got in bed with me.”

“I'm
not a kitten!”

Iori
smirked, sitting up on his elbows Kyo slide frantically down his body
and tug at his pants. Kyo unbuttoned his own, sliding them quickly
down his legs and blushing at Iori's stare. His cock hardened even
more under the redhead's gaze. He knew Iori was just doing all this
to taunt him.

He
wanted it now. Two
nights of sleeping on the couch was too much, and he hated being mad
at Iori because that meant he couldn't do anything to ease his
frustration. No secret fapping in the bathroom, because somehow, Iori
always knew about that. And no sex with Iori, of course, because he
was pissed off and that just wouldn't work.

From
the looks of things, though, Iori was just as hard up as he was.
Climbing back onto the bed on his knees, Kyo wrapped his uninjured
hand around Iori's cock and stroked slowly, running his fingers
around the darkened head with his eyes on his lover's face. His
middle finger traced the vein in Iori's cock, from head to to base,
and Kyo wrapped his hand around Iori's balls and squeezed.

Iori
moaned, his head tipping backward. Kyo watched his throat move as he
stroked and Iori moaned, and even though he was supposed to be
fucking Iori and not the other way around, Kyo decided then and there
that the only
acceptable way to end this would be with that velvety steel cock
inside him.

He
stopped stroking, his hand sliding under his pillow for the lube. It
wasn't easy to find a way to prepare himself with one hand bandaged,
and he didn't think that lube and gauze tape would be good together.
Finally, he leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees and his
forearm, and that way he could reach between his own legs and do what
needed to be done.

Iori
raised his head again, glancing over to see what was going on. He
moaned, his cock twitching and leaking a little just from the sight
of it. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Kyo
could only whimper in reply, arching into his own fingers. He blushed
a little, pressing his face against the cool mattress. He couldn't
take much more-- which was sad, considering he was teasing himself.
With a muffled sob he pulled his fingers out, shakily getting up and
straddling Iori's hips again. He held on to Iori's tight stomach with
both hands, slowly lowering himself onto his lover's cock.

“Fuck...”
Iori hissed, shaking with the effort to keep from touching the
brunette above him.

Kyo
panted, holding very still so he could adjust, and the head of Iori's
cock was pressing against his prostate and making his task very hard.
Then he started to move.

“I
don't think... this counts as 'fucking me',” Iori gasped,
watching his lover ride. He wasn't complaining, though, he loved to
watch Kyo like this.

“I
like being on the bottom!” Kyo shouted in reply. “I
like... your cock in me.”

“God,
so do I,” Iori growled. He just wished he could touch.
Kyo's skin was shiny with sweat, and it was driving him crazy to not
be able to feel those muscles moving under his fingers.

Kyo
shifted, letting go of Iori's stomach and leaning backwards instead,
bracing his hands on Iori's knees, still moving. He was going crazy,
Iori's cock against his prostate and he couldn't touch himself
because he needed his good hand both to stroke his cock and to hold
himself up. He'd have to ask Iori, if only the older man would
come...

Apparently
the view he was providing was pretty graphic, because Iori groaned
again and arched into him, hard, fast, too good-- and then he came,
and Kyo thought that maybe he should stop moving but it felt too good
to stop. So he kept going, riding all the way through Iori's orgasm
and a couple of aftershocks before pulling away. Now that he didn't
need to hold himself up, he could always take care of his own
erection by himself....

Iori
didn't let him, though; with a gasp he found himself flipped neatly
onto his back and Iori's mouth pressing down on his. He didn't
mention the fact that he'd just said “don't touch me!” a
little while ago. He wasn't going to complain.

Iori's
mouth moved slowly down over his neck, nibbling and sucking just long
enough to make a mark before moving on to his chest, over his sternum
and his stomach. Iori slid his tongue into Kyo's bellybutton, which
tickled, but he arched into it anyway. His cock was painfully hard
now-- he wanted this over with.

Iori
must have sensed it, because his mouth closed over Kyo's cock and he
sucked, drawing his tongue up and over and around before slowly
pressing his face downward again. Kyo was already so close, and he
wanted to do nothing more than thrust into the tight wet heat of
Iori's mouth but he knew that if he did, Iori would choke. And hate
him. So he settled for winding his fingers in Iori's hair, not
exactly pressing his head down but certainly keeping him from sitting
up.

Iori
took it all in stride, his lips wrapped tightly around the base of
Kyo's cock, and he swallowed. Kyo mewled, then cried out, arching
because he couldn't help it and coming into Iori's mouth. His eyes
were closed but he could feel the redhead gazing at him, could feel
Iori's muscles still working around him.

Kyo
was still panting when his lover slid back up to the pillows, and as
soon as he caught his breath he decided that a blowjob like that one,
however quick because he was about to come without any touching at
all, deserved forgiveness. Sighing, he scooted over and curled his
arms around Iori's neck.

Iori
moved a little, pressing his lips to Kyo's, and this time the
aftertaste was salty and considerably less disgusting than blood. But
Kyo didn't care anymore, because Iori's arm wrapped loosely around
his shoulders and held him there.

“We
left a mess in the kitchen,” Iori said abruptly a few minutes
later.

Kyo
sighed. He knew they should get up, but... “We can clean it up
later. Right now let's just lie here.”
- 1
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Contempt and Aftertaste