Dissonant Notes in Minor Keys (KimMacau, KimChayMacau) 18+

Chapter Six: Sweet Voices

Kim pulls Macau off his cock and drops to his knees, takes Macau's face in his hands, and devours him.

Macau's hands grasp Kim's hair as he kisses back desperately, legs wrapping around Kim, pulling him closer as Kim's hands press them tightly together. Kim's hands roam over his back, down to his ass, up his spine to his neck, one hand at his throat and the other slipping over his face until Kim can slide his thumb into Macau's mouth to keep him open for Kim to take his fill.

Macau gives, gives, offers himself up to Kim's blighted hands, and who better to know the blood soaking them than another Theerapanyakun.

There is no space between their bodies, only the slide of their sweat-slick skin, only the sound of heavy breaths from lungs desperate for air, Macau's aborted little whines and the quiet moans that pool heavy in Kim's chest.

Kim is hungry. Everything in him is hungry, is starving, is ravenous, and even as Macau gives, Kim feels his obsession give way to gluttony.

He wants to drown himself in Macau's body, become liquid within him and poison him slowly. He wants to slip fluidly, easily, into all the winding little spaces in Macau's mind and sink in, invade his blood and infect his heart, make this sickness go both ways.

Kim strokes his tongue into Macau's mouth, and Macau meets him, matches him, puts his teeth into Kim's lip and bites, sucks at his tongue, the movements unrestrained and messy, and Kim feels satisfaction spread hot through him.

Kim craves sin like the demon he is, and yet here, in this bed of inequity, is Macau with limbs tight around him in mutual possession, rolling his body into Kim, hands cradling the back of his head and tangling his fingers in his hair, open mouth offering up his soul.

He tips Macau onto his back, pulls away and gazes down at his beautiful cousin, the perfect object of his obsession, and, for the first time in his life, needs.

Taking Chay had been an absolution, a prayer answered, one laden with an apology and a want for forgiveness and to be welcomed back into a love with so few conditions, but this is not that.

"Move up towards the headboard," Kim says, and Macau scoots back, Kim following on hands and knees.

As he crawls over Macau, whose eyes are hooded and his head tilted back to expose his neck... This is not absolution. He is not being offered forgiveness, and he is not earning redemption.

Spread beneath Kim, on the altar of his sins, Macau is a sacrifice.

Kim runs his hands up Macau's sides, leans in and kisses him deep, and he can't wait anymore.

It's quick work, as Macau pants beneath him, for Kim to slide lubricant-slick hands over his cock and inside of him, pressing his fingers in easy, easy, and listening to Macau's little cries and gasps as Kim fingers him, makes sure that Macau knows how to relax. He doesn't even have to say anything though, not like Macau choking on his cock; Macau lets his body be easy, lets his breaths come deep and full.

"P'Kim..." Macau says on a gasp. "P'Kim, please, please, I need this, I want it, been wanting it so long..."

Kim is undone.

He leans back, and Macau's legs fall open, vulnerable and perfect.

Kim grips him under his knees, and Macau obediently tilts himself up.

"Just breathe," Kim says, slicking up his bare cock, and Macau nods.

Kim thinks about the feel of a gun in his hand, about the grip of a garrote, about the smooth textured handles of batons and knives, about the taste of drugs that end in a death laced with euphoria and agony.

As he slides into Macau slowly, watches his eyes widen and his breaths quicken, Kim has never felt more like a god of ruin.

Macau's eyes are clear and focused on Kim as he bares down against the press of Kim's cock, and Kim lets himself be drawn in deep, deep, settled into Macau's body, into the space made for him.

His cousin's eyes are barely open as he inhales and exhales slowly, stuttering and hitching just as Kim presses in further, then pulls back, the friction sparking fire in his blood, and he can't help but let it burn.

"P'Kim, P'Kim, P'Kim..." Macau whispers and cries, over and over, like there is no other word he can say. There are aborted little syllables that try to make their way past Macau's swollen lips, but Kim can see the each half-formed word pool liquid in his eyes to spill down his cheeks, and Kim knows that he'll eventually pull every last word from him.

Kim leans forward, tastes the salt at Macau's temples, then kisses that flavor into Macau's mouth as he fucks him, fucks him, fucks him.

Moans and whines leave Macau like a filthy song between them, set to the tempo of their fucking. Like everything between them, there is music, beginning eighteen years ago when Kim watched a sleeping, new-born Macau with fascination, and becoming whole for them both as they slept tangled together as children, Aunt Nassau's lullaby drowning out the lightning storms that terrified Macau.

Kim still can't remember every note to the song or all the lyrics, but he remembers the warmth of protecting someone soft, of caring for someone who so desperately needed care.

It had been novel for him then, and hasn't been something the sharp edges he's grown over the years could let him offer again.

Until Chay.

Until Chay, like Macau, brought him warmth again.

All the things he saw in Chay, that he sees in Chay, echo the memory of Macau's smile, and now resonate in the tears streaming from Macau's eyes. As Kim pulls little cries from him now, he thinks that these two precious people are two movements to a composition, two gentle pieces arranged around Kim's fast-paced, cruelly abrasive cadence. As Kim looks at his cousin beneath him, watches him take his cock and lean into him - just the same way Chay had the first time they'd fucked - things click into place, and Kim is overwhelmed as he so rarely is.

They flow together as three movements in a symphony, ending on the perfect tonal triad.

Kim doesn't deserve their music, but he doesn't care. He will pull their songs from them and die with their notes steady from his throat and sweet on his lips.