STOP talking. I need to say something. Three days ago, I loathed you,
As Add whispers, he feels his face turn ten shades darker – it’s one thing, he thinks, to simply give the upper hand to someone else consciously; it’s another, when he feels control slipping into Add’s hands and isn’t repulsed at the very thought of it. “Why do you think I would– that I’d want people to–” he stammers, at first, his words coming in short, cut-off phrases; looks into the other boy’s gaze hesitantly – shyly, almost, in a way that doesn’t necessarily suit him, his lips pressing in a thin line, in his embarrassment. “You’ll… do more of those horrible things with me, won’t you? Tarnish me – make it so that we can’t think of anything else. Take me apart with your hands, piece by piece, if it’ll let me be closer to you.” Desperately, he closes the distance between them, to push his face into Add’s chest for a heartbeat or two, grabbing the edges of his jacket – wavers, between wanting him and not wanting to express that very fact.
"I can, somehow.” Understanding what Add wants to do, Kuroha instinctively tilts his head up, with a soft sigh; allows his eyes to shut before the sky. Add’s lips against his neck set his skin ablaze, in a way that he’s never felt before; it has him repeatedly shifting beneath the other’s weight on his lap, his breath coming in low groans – trying, rapidly, to adjust to the unusual burst of adrenaline that rushes through his whole system at once. It’s unprecedented – like lightning flowing through his veins, a thrill greater than anything he’s ever experienced. In other words, Kuroha hadn’t really bothered with adjusting any accessories that this body had come with–
–which ends up leaving him with the inability to find out how… sensitive that certain regions of his skin are, before this, and in between long gasps and soft, keening noises, the first half of Add’s name constantly dies on his tongue. When Add stops, his first instinct is to whine, displeased with the absence by his neck – until he realizes the inevitable, dark mark left beneath his skin, making a face as the other boy nuzzles his cheek. “Do you think that being this cute will make me forgive you?” he protests, but he doesn’t bother with keeping up the act, for long. “I guess… I’ll leave it uncovered – if that’ll make you happy, if that’s what you want from me. But– only for a day.”
Kuroha presses his thumbs more forcefully, encouraged by the confirmation that Add gives him in return, his breaths coming swiftly and shallowly, inhaling air out of Add’s system as if his life depends on it (it doesn’t, he doesn’t require the element of oxygen). “You’re the only one that I want to be inside of,” he whispers in return – plays along, but only for that moment; while there’s other things that he could say, he decides to save them for later, choosing instead to continue the kiss; runs his tongue over Add’s teeth, distracting him from focusing only on one thing.
Even though Kuroha knows that Add is entirely willing to let life go, right now (due to the fact that he’d come back, mere seconds later), all humans have a survival instinct that kicks in, that tries to save them regardless of whether they want saving or not – a final attempt at clinging to life. He’s seen it enough times to recognize when it takes over; smiles, joyfully, at the boy’s feeble attempts to pry insistent fingers away from his neck.
And in the precious few moments that remain, Kuroha opens his eyes; watches the spark fade from Add’s gaze, turning it a dull, lifeless shade of pink – the indicator that he’d executed his job properly, that he’d done something worthy of approval and praise. With the now unconscious body in his arms, he presses it closer to his chest and holds it there; rubs his cheek against the boy’s neck, murmuring – “Wake up soon, for me. I’d wait an eternity for you, but I still hate waiting, you know.”
His nails dig into the artifcial flesh covering Kuroha's wrists as his body continues to struggle, pointlessly, instinctively, even though his mind doesn't quite follow through. There's unbearable tension building up -- both within his head and below his stomach, an odd, foreign heat pooling somewhere beneath his abdomen. There's no time for him to properly identify it, though -- as Kuroha breathes in the last, remaining remnants of his air, he finally gives in; chokes out a few more, strained sounds, and then the familiar darkness consumes his vision, body going completely limp in Kuroha's arms.
The stolen breath returns to him in seconds -- still, the seal of time brings him back to life with a minimal amount of health, most of his energy and stamina spent in order to turn back time. He's exhausted, and understandably so; it'll take a quite bit of rest before he returns back to his usual state. Somehow, it feels different, this time; normally, his mind remains a hazy blur -- now, it feels like a fog has been lifted, as he slowly opens his eyes, chest rising and falling in desperate gasps of air (though his throat burns, and every breath sets his insides ablaze.)
A few more seconds pass before he realizes the position he's in -- he could hear Kuroha's words, somewhere through the cacophony of noises, so he knew the boy must be close; what he didn't expect is sitting in the android's lap, the other's arms wrapped around his body securely. The memories of the last, few hours come back to him in waves -- he remembers drinking a strange potion, remembers the warmth spreading through his chest, remembers the inexorable feeling of happiness and finally being complete -- and, needless to say, a wave of disgust rises to his throat, as he stirs, abruptly.
"What -- what the fuck? Let me go!" His body curves as he leans back as far away from Kuroha as possible, even despite being stuck in some sort of an awkward hug. It doesn't take a genius to realize that it was the potion's fault; which means, Kuroha is still under its' effect, as death clearly cleansed Add's system of the poison. Normally, he'd love to take advantage of this situation -- coax Kuroha into letting him dismantle his body and take a peek inside, but right now, he's panicked; weak and exposed, his eyepatch too far away for comfort.
Talking still hurts, his voice hoarse, but this isn't a good time to relax and get the much needed rest; he shoves at Kuroha's face, almost childishly, figuring he's mostly out of options. "Hey, are you listening? None of what I said was real, so just cut this shit out -- it was all fake bullshit, we've been tricked," he groans, desperately, calling forth the dynamo to help him untangle himself from Kuroha's arms.
He doesn't have enough energy to infuse it with magic, but it's something; he wants nothing more but to put the eyepatch back on his head, and maybe figure out how to forcefully rob Kuroha of memories. He said too much -- all of the gross, affectionate (and borderline obsessive) things aside, he'd also shared a few vulnerabilities, and it makes him much more uncomfortable than any fake exclamation of love ever could.
