Kuwabara no Miko

Omi straightened the magazines on the coffee table for the twelfth time, turning them diagonally this go 'round. Three seconds later he was lifting the one drooping lily in the floral arrangement on the dining room table for the fourth time. It immediately sagged again. But Omi was already moving through the alcove to the hall. The mirror hanging beside the coat rack reflected his absent, anxiety-ridden expression, but his blue eyes flickered over the smooth surface without taking any notice.

Four more seconds saw him in the living room again, checking the burning red numbers on the face of the VCR.

"Five more minutes," he muttered to himself. "He's never late."

Five more minutes, counted out in seconds. In sharp breaths. In pounding heartbeats. It wasn't so much the expectation as it was the danger in this tryst. Well, no, it was both. But Omi had extended the invitation, it had been accepted, plans had been made, and now....

"Four and a half minutes."

Omi's stomach twisted with nerves. "He's never late, but just this once, why couldn't he be early?!"

Of course, he already knew the answer to that.

Omi shifted the magazines again. Straightened the colorful rug that Yoji-kun had bought at an outdoor market only last week and that Ken-kun had already stained with hot chocolate. Pulled out his Nintendo system, then shoved it back away an instant later. That wasn't what he wanted to do; he had a feeling he'd be creamed if he tried any fighting games and RPGs were out of the question - his concentration was shot.

Counting the seconds. "Three and a half minutes...."

Well, at least one more minute had somehow dragged by.

"K'so, k'so, k'so, K'SO!!"

His roommates would have been shocked to hear innocent young Omi curse so fluidly, with such heartfelt emotion. But they weren't present - that was part of the point.

"Three and a quarter minutes."

Omi despaired of survival. He took a bathroom break. Washing his hands killed a few moments.

"Two and a half!" His eyes widened. That had been easier than he had expected.

His mouth was dry. A glass of water was fifteen more seconds. Then he realized he ought to brush his teeth. Duh! Good idea, Omi-kun! Of course, he'd brushed them after dinner, but that had been over an hour ago, and he had a good reason for brushing them a second time.

One more minute! Omi's eyes fixed on the VCR clock, mint-flavored breath gusting between barely parted lips. So close! The waiting was nearly over!

He just about jumped out of his skin as the doorbell rang. M-matte! He was... early?

Oh, please, let it be him and not something getting in the way, Omi prayed as he rushed down the short hall, nearly tripping over Ken's cleats and doing himself some permanent damage. Please....

A startled pair of night-blue eyes, filled with both midnight and glowing stars, ringed with lashes of the thickest black, blinked at him as he ripped the door open with muted violence.

Relief washed through Omi in a flood. But....

"You're early!" he blurted.

"I am?" Nagi blinked, lifting a slim wrist to examine the face of his digital watch.

"Un! Thirty seconds early!"

Nagi frowned up at Omi. "Are you certain your clock is right? My watch read nine-o-o exactly as I rang the bell."

Omi considered. "Maybe. I set it three weeks ago; it might have gone off by thirty second by this time. Or perhaps your watch is fast."

Nagi shrugged elegantly. "At any rate, I'm here. Are you going to invite me inside? Or are we going to remain outside, where any interested eyes can see us?"

"ACK!" Omi swiftly ushered his guest indoors.

He took Nagi's jacket politely, hanging it on the rack, between Aya's rain slicker and Ken's extra apron. "Did you have any trouble getting away?"

Nagi smiled sweetly, brushing dark strands of silken hair from his soft young face. "Iie. I just collapsed the house on top of them. They'll be hours getting out from under the rubble, and then there's the clean-up, and...."

"Are you sure you won't get in trouble for that?" Omi asked, wide-eyed.

Nagi shrugged again, drawing attention to the smooth, delicate curves of his shoulders beneath the thin material of his white teeshirt. "How will they know it was me?"

Omi fixed a hard stare on the younger boy.

Nagi laughed, then tipped Omi a wink. "Don't worry, Omi-kun. I can take care of myself." He tilted his dark head. "Did you get everyone out of the apartment like you said you would?"

"Mm-hm." Omi nodded, breaking into a sheepish grin, though he was still anxious about Nagi's future. "Yoji-kun's on a date - he should be gone most of this evening, if not all night." He and Nagi shared a wicked grin as he led the younger boy through the living room, slender white fingers twined through his more sturdy golden digits. "Ken-kun got special permission from Persia to be gone overnight - he's playing assistant coach for the junior soccer team he's been helping." Nagi snorted to show his opinion on that, but at least it had gotten one more Weiss member out of the way for this evening. Omi pushed open the door to his bedroom, continuing. "And Aya-kun plans to stake out my father all night. So we definitely have the place to ourselves."

"Good." The instant the door closed behind them, Nagi was all over his host for the evening; the brush of warm lips, tender young body pressed close, fine-boned hands wandering over muscles, under clothing....

Omi's brain took a moment or two to catch up, but before more than one and a half seconds had passed, he was devouring Nagi's mouth as hungrily as the other boy's was eating at his, tongues twining, his arms clamping around that slender form, hands closing over taut, tiny buttocks as he maneuvered Nagi toward the bed.

"Let's make this count!" Nagi said breathlessly, as he pulled Omi over on top of him and they both tumbled to the mattress.

"Yes," Omi agreed. After all, it was all about minutes. Seconds. Heartbeats and drawn breaths. Time would pass without effort on their part, and the best thing to do was to live within the moment. And right now he had his arms full of a warm, willing boy.

Life was good.

Yoji yawned mightily, stretching against his lover's lean body beneath the sheets drawn loosely over both of them. "D'you think they're done yet?" he asked sleepily, running idle fingers through long, silken, fiery hair, playing his palm over a powerful chest.

His wrist was grasped in a strong fist and he was tugged closer to the lithe body beside his. "I don't care if they are," the words were breathed against his lips in heated gusts. "I'm not finished with you yet."

Yoji pulled away enough to speak, though he was careful not to break the embrace ringing his slim waist. "But hadn't you ought to get back and help with the salvaging efforts? It was your house too."

A wide mouth curved. "This is more interesting."

Yoji smirked back, dark-emerald eyes gleaming. "Glad to hear you think so."

Flesh meeting and twining in the darkness. The silken rasp of mouths merging.

A dark chuckle. "The things I do for that boy."