Left Out

A/N: Yes, I'm actually back! Sorry for the long wait, /again/. Eh, I guess you better get used to the month-long spaces between updates because that seems to be how this fic is gonna happen. Damn life.

Must say the usual shout-outs to my ever-patient readers and btw, big thanks for not being overly pushy with demanding updates or sending me death threats. It's very decent of you all and it's great that you're so understanding. So here we go:

Golden Kitsune - Heh, I'm sure you would, you bad thing. ;) I know this chapter did not arrive soon enough for you but I hope it's good enough to make you forgive me anyway!

Kerianya - Thank you once more for your support. It would be my pleasure to make your weekend again with this update. Enjoy!

Ravenlyn - You're gonna hate me for where I end this chapter. XD But you know, I have to leave you with a reason to keep coming back...

Raiast - Oh, thank you so much. *is touched* I'm happy you felt what I was trying to show. It means a lot that you appreciate the more tender side of this fic. Not that the smut isn't appreciated too but yeah, you know what I mean. Yay, emotion!

Kayaz - Great to hear from you! And huge thanks for what you said. Getting into the head of Loz is actually the most fun I've had writing a character and yeah, he just seems to channel through me so easily. Probably because I want to BE him bad. lol

viva_rose - Thanks! Plenty more "touches" in this part too. *smirks like our favourite little clone*

One last mention before the good stuff: If you like your Lozoo a tad kinky and different, as well as sweet and a tiny bit sad, you must read 'Secrecy' by Emerald Embers. Boy, what a fantastic fic. One of my absolute favs. I've kinda paid a little bit of a tribute to her story here and if you've read it you'll know which part. Emerald, you rock, girl!

*mwah* Rina


***


Last chapter:


He lays his head in the crook of my arm, submissively exposing his moonlight-pale throat and the blue veins forking along it.

“I don’t care if you’re rough, brother,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “Just put your hands on me.”


***


Part Five.


I don’t need to be told twice. I also turn on my side, facing Yazoo so I can watch his expressions and see when I’m doing something right since making out with guys is all new to me. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do, or what he expects me to do, but I’m gonna try my best to make him feel good and repay him for the brain-exploding pleasure he gave me with just one touch of his lips earlier. I bend the elbow he’s lying on so that my forearm is angled across his upper back over the curtain of his hair, my hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Since he’s behaving himself and not trying to choke me, I hug him closer so I can breathe in the scent of his silken mane. It smells so good, like blueberry bubblegum, and under that, the always pervasive hint of leather. Sometimes, I do this when he’s asleep, carefully leaning over him and smelling the abundant silver mass that tumbles past his shoulders, nearly getting high off its addictive fragrance. If he ever woke up and sprung me, I’d be so frickin’ embarrassed. He’d probably mutter something about me being weird and then roll away so I couldn’t do it again. But I can do it now without him objecting so I sniff him once more, savouring that intoxicating perfume, and press my lips into his hair, lovingly kissing the top of his head.

I know I’m built like a tank and can crush people just as emotionlessly but I can be gentle as a lamb when I wanna be, especially towards my prettiest sibling who I’ve always had a bit of a weak spot for.

Okay, more than a bit.

Okay, so I’m kind of hopelessly in love with him. I realise how not-straight that makes me but if you were a dude and you saw him fresh out of the shower wearing nothin’ but a towel slung low around his mouth-wateringly trim hips, you’d be feeling your straightness start to kink too. His body is not only an amazing piece of bio-technology but amazing to look at as well and before this day is over I intend to feel every bit of it. Starting with his leg, I lift it higher up over my waist and then slide my palm from his ankle up along his calf, continuing behind the back of his knee and up his thigh, making sure my big bear-paw skims harmlessly over his porcelain skin. He said I could be rough if I wanted but I can’t treat my lovely little Yaz like that. He’s too pretty to bruise. And besides, I still feel horrible for hitting him across the face. Smacking each other around is expected when we train together but outside of our gym room it’s something we just shouldn’t do and I’m truly apologetic for it. The redness of my slap-mark remains visible on his cheek but it’s gradually fading and I press a regretful kiss to it, needing to make up for my overreaction.

Reminding me that I’m already forgiven, he spreads his left hand out against my chest, the tips of his fingers tracing tiny circles over my heart, proving that although he’s a remorseless killing machine, he too can be gentle when he wants. Him being gentle doesn’t shock me like it does when Kadaj acts that way. Whenever I have vivid, terrifying nightmares about being back in the lab it’s always Yazoo who holds me and comforts me until I go back to sleep so I’m more or less used to him displaying tenderness and niceness. I still like it, though, and crave more of his rarely-given affection, especially when it has nothing to do with soothing my bad dreams. Knowing that he’s here with me because he wants to be is a special thrill for me and while he caresses my chest with his slender fingers I run my hand up the leg that’s draped over my midsection. His thigh is muscular but lean; consisting of hard, genetically-enhanced flesh under deceptively soft skin and it is this mixture of hardness and softness that makes Yazoo so enthrallingly bewitching, even to me; his own brother. His blood and my blood are one and the same so I should be immune to his mystical attraction but Mother help me, I’m not. I want to touch him just as much as everyone else does. Only difference between the rest of the world and me is that I’m actually allowed to do it and I consider his recently-granted permission a great honour and privilege.

Sweeping my palm further upward, I arrive at his hip and graze across the prominent bone there before encompassing that whittled waist line of his. I bet if I had two hands around it, I could almost get my fingertips to connect. For all his slimness, he’s strongly-shaped, constructed of long, athletic limbs, taut tendons and sinews and honed groups of muscle, all encased in an outer layer of pure whiteness that seems shrink-wrapped to his tall figure, letting you see each and every well-formed bodily contour beneath it. Many times I’ve looked at those contours and dreamt about following their angles and curves with my fingers but I’ve never been given the opportunity to do that before. Now that I have I’m relishing the occasion, touching Yazoo in the places I’ve always wanted to. My fingers ripple over his rib-bones and ruffle through the grey fluff under his arm, my thumb dipping down to brush over his flat male nipple. Noticing the way his whole body tenses when I do that, I rub him there again, delighted when the dusty-pink circle hardens, the fine tissue tightening against my thumb-pad. He breathes in quickly and then releases that breath in a warm sigh against my arm, along with a tremor that seems to run all the way down to his feet.

“He likes it when you do that,” Kadaj says in a murmur, nearly startling me because I’d almost forgotten he was there behind me. I don’t mind him watching as I get to know Yazoo’s body more intimately; I just don’t want Kadaj to talk too much because the focus is on my second brother at this point, not him. Besides, he had his chance to get manhandled by me earlier and didn’t want it. Yazoo is being much more co-operative and obliging so therefore he gets all my attention at the moment.

When I’m done toying with his now-pebbled nipple, I begin gliding my wandering hand over all the parts of Yazoo I can reach; his shoulder and side, his ribs and waist, his hip, his back and buttock, feeling the difference between soft and firm, bone and muscle, the skin covering all of it like smooth suede beneath my palm. I trail down his thigh and calf again and follow the same path back up, thinking that he’s got the longest legs I’ve ever seen on anyone, girl or guy. If he ever got bored of assaulting and robbing people for cash, he could be a highly-sought after hustler. Men as well as women would pay mega-bucks to see him without a shirt or pants on. I’d even fork over money for that but since he’s my brother I get the bonus of seeing it for free. In addition to that, I am allowed certain liberties that the general public aren’t and one of them is to be able to touch him without getting my face smashed in by a gun-butt or my arm reefed around my back and busted like a twig, both of which I’ve seen him do to jerkwads who thought they could get away with groping him and not asking first. Taking advantage of this family-only liberty I roam further with my fingers, easing them into the crease between his raised thigh and groin, seeking out a more personal area.

Kadaj crawls around us on the mattress, settling at the back of Yazoo so he can see the action better. He doesn’t touch either of us or interrupt; just reclines sideways and rests his head on his hand, elbow bent, studying us with bright turquoise-green eyes that are glowing preternaturally beneath the razored strands of his hair. I catch his gaze for a moment and pause, wondering if he’s really okay with me touching Yazoo like this when it’s obvious Yazoo belonged to him first. Trust me; I know about sibling rivalry and how jealous and possessive we can get of our own stuff. I don’t want Kadaj to be pissed at me days after I do this if it’s not cool with him now. Picking up on my trepidation, Kadaj affords me a permissive smile, letting me know that it’s fine and that he’s more than willing to share his lover with me. We’re brothers, after all, and we already share a bed, so why not share who sleeps in it? Yazoo doesn’t seem to mind sharing himself either, turning his face into my arm and nuzzling invitingly against my bunched bicep. He caresses my chest in that same inviting manner, his fingertips lingering in the chisel-like groove dividing my pectorals.

Given the go-ahead by both of them, I carry on, searching southward past the sliver fleece over his pubis until I feel semi-solid flesh. Yazoo moves his leg down a notch, granting me accessibility to his frontal region, and I take him in my hand, stroking him and giving gentle squeezes until the blood surges forth, hardening and lengthening his sex to the maximum extent and filling my hand with heated heaviness. ‘Course, it ain’t as big as mine but then again, compared to the majority of the male population it appears that I’m a freak of nature. Admittedly, all three of us are freaks of nature -- the scientists made damn sure of that by injecting us with mako and Jenova cells and Gods knows what else – but I guess I’m freakier than most. In an awesome kind of way.

Also very much in my list of awesome is Yazoo, whom I admire for many and varied reasons, and I investigate further underneath him, wanting to learn all there is to know about my beautiful, badass brother. Down here I discover the usual dangly guy-bits but there are definitely no tucked-away girly ones, putting an end to my occasional speculation. With all the experiments done to us I half wondered if some of them involved making Yazoo into a ladyboy because that would be the twisted sort of shit those white-coated bastards would do. Fortunately for Yaz, they didn’t manipulate his genes that far. Even if he did have a secret little pussy hiding down there it wouldn’t have bothered me. I like pussy and would have done all sorts of naughty things to it: pet it, part it, even lick it and lap up that sweet muskiness. But there isn’t one here for me to play with. Between his reproductive organs and rear exit here’s nothing but a small, bare patch of skin, same as I got. Yazoo may have a chick face and nicer hair than most of them yet down where it counts he’s all man.

That doesn’t mean I can’t still play with him.

I draw my hand back and slip it over his hip and around the other side of him, reaching underneath my passive partner from behind. I know I just decided there were no female molecules in his genetic makeup but when I start to explore his private entryway I begin to believe I’m mistaken because my fingertips unexpectedly come into contact with moistness and when I press against him, they slip right in. He hisses softly while I withdraw my fingers and rub the pads of them together, testing what I’ve found, before pushing back in again with the same oiled smoothness.

“You’re so slippery,” I comment in amazement.

Yazoo shakes his head faintly against my arm. “It’s not me.”

“What? I don’t get...Oh,” I remark stupidly, belatedly realising what’s going on. Yazoo is not a hermaphrodite and can’t produce his own lubrication. This suspicious substance came from my other brother. Before, when I was pretending to be asleep, Kadaj was claiming him from behind, bringing them both to a shuddering climax and filling Yazoo’s body with his fluids. That’s all those squishy noises I heard. You’d think I’d be turned off knowing that I’m knuckle-deep in Kadaj’s still-warm semen but it isn’t so. It’s perversely arousing, actually, and I push further in, getting hornier by the second, particularly when Yazoo presses his face to my bicep and begins breathing quicker.

“He likes that too,” Kadaj confirms. “Make him hot again, Loz.”

Already working on that, I use my fingers to kindle Yazoo’s slow-burning fire, penetrating him with two of them at once, sliding them in and out of his receptively slick opening. I didn’t have to start with one or scissor them to prepare him as he’s prepared enough already. In fact, I bet he can take three of them without much trouble so I give it a go, feeling him stretching around my hand as I succeed, a macho kind of triumph welling inside my breast when Yazoo arches closer to me and starts moaning quietly, a note of need darkening the soft sound.

Helping me get him even hotter, Kadaj moves forward and sweeps Yazoo’s hair to the side, leaning down to lick him wetly across the cheek, probing into his ear and tongue-titillating him just like Yazoo did to my navel earlier, making the more effeminate one of our trio quiver helplessly against my supporting arm.

“Do you like this, Yazoo?” Kadaj whispers seductively to him. “Do you like being shared by us? By both of your brothers at once?”

In an affirmative response, Yazoo moans again, jolting as Kadaj bites his earlobe with sharp little teeth and then sucks it into his mouth to soothe the sting. As Kadaj and I endeavour to turn on all of Yazoo’s switches together, that hand that Yazoo has been caressing my chest with starts to move down between our bodies, past my tensed-up abdominal section, his slim fingers finding and wrapping around my thick length. I only have one switch and it was already flipped to the ON position long ago so I give a deep, rumbling groan, my eyes shutting at the deliciousness of his well-timed tugs. Losing myself in the sensualness of his pleasuring palm, I forget to move and just loll there in a dazed stupor while he expertly jacks me, his thumb slicking around the colourless fluid on the end of my engorgement and making golden sparks appear behind my closed eyelids, like fireworks in my skull. I think I mutter his name a couple of times as I’m reflexively thrusting into his grasp, and I may have muttered Mother’s as well, but I’m not really aware of what I might be saying. I’m too busy enjoying myself.

An unknown while later, it vaguely filters into my distracted mind that I’m meant to be touching /him/, not the other way round, and so I hastily open my eyes to ask Yazoo what he wants me to do next but I find him already turned away from me, facing the third party in the bed.

“Hey, Kadaj?” Yazoo begins casually. “Do you think brother would let me ride him?”

“I don’t see why not. But you’ve never ridden anything that big before,” Kadaj adds, his tone light and conversational, as if he’s talking about Yazoo taking my motorcycle for a spin.

“What, think I can’t handle it?” Yazoo returns in his dryly humorous way. “I’m deeply offended that you have such little faith in me.”

“My apologies,” Kadaj says laughingly. “I should know better.”

“Yes, you should. You of all people ought to be quite familiar with what I am or am not capable of handling.”

“Hm, I suppose you ARE remarkably flexible.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed. Believe me.”

Neither of them is looking at me as they banter back and forth. This would be one of those times I’d feel invisible except that the subject they are discussing happens to be a very vital part of my anatomy and it, like me, is quite keen to learn the outcome of this debate.

“So, do you think he’ll let me?” Yazoo inquires again, surely knowing the answer but dragging it out just to make me crazy.

“I’m positive he won’t mind.” Here Kadaj slants me a questioning look. “Will you, Loz? You won’t mind if Yazoo test-drives that big joystick of yours?”

I shake my head mutely, not game to say a single word in case it’s the wrong one.

“Go on then,” Kadaj grants Yazoo generously. “Ride him.”

Like a kid about to perform a new trick, Yazoo asks him excitedly, “Are you going to watch, Kadaj?”

Not even bothering to hide his smirk, Kadaj replies, “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for all the materia on the planet.”

Showing just what strength he has in those gun-slinging arms of his, Yazoo forcefully shoves me over onto my back, bouncing me hard on the mattress, and I stare up at him with shocked eyes as he straddles me, reaching between his thighs to position my readiness right where he wants it. Hair curtaining his face as he looks down, he lets himself sink onto my tip and the heat starting to surround me is unbelievable; the slipperiness and snugness inside his body causing me to gasp and clutch at his hips. Like he’s accustomed to this reaction, he smiles at me and sinks down more.

“Yeah. Keep going, Yaz,” Kadaj coaches voyeuristically, getting to his knees and watching from behind as my wide shaft steadily disappears. He puts his hand on Yazoo’s lower back, supporting and encouraging him.

“Take him all, babe. All the way.”

Yazoo exhales evenly as he bends both knees and lets gravity assist him, lowering himself further and further onto my thickness, determined not to stop until he’s taken every centimetre into him. In an astonishingly short period of time, he manages to achieve that, his graceful figure relaxing on top of me, a pleased expression suffusing his face; a look he usually only gets when he’s having fun tormenting our much-weaker and more easily-angered opponents.

“Mmm, Loz,” he murmurs with his eyes closed blissfully. “You’re huge.”

I can’t reply to that. I’m still trying to cope with the fact that my brother is sitting on my dick.

***