Hey all! I have changed my username from Chess 77 to Poetic Child. Sorry for any confusion!

This fic is an attempt to ease the sorrow of fellow yaoi fanpersons who went on an Itsukyon rampage only to discover that there aren't nearly enough fics out there! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, nor any of the characters. If I did there would be a lot more smexing between Istuki and Kyon.

CHAPTER 1 – FAILING TO REPUDIATE

Itsuki couldn't sleep. Outside fat raindrops hit the ground like scattered applause and he stared absently at the watery veil for a while, looking through the dark image of his face on the window. The view eventually became marred by the mist of his breath on the glass so Istuki turned his weary attention to his reflection and watched his eyes searching themselves. He tired of this quickly, not liking much of what he saw, and subsequently practiced his everyday, happy-go-lucky face, scrutinising the insincerity of his smile and wondering how Suzumiya had fallen for such a poor display of happiness.

Still, it wasn't as if it mattered. She believed him and that was that. Itsuki dismissed her from his mind and allowed it to wander aimlessly for a while before suddenly recalling his thoughts with a sharp reproof. No. No thinking of him. Reminding himself why thinking of "God's" chosen one was the ultimate stupidity Itsuki turned onto his other side and willed sleep to come. Glancing at the bedside clock a while later Istuki was surprised to see that he'd actually been dozing for about an hour. Feeling more relaxed he turned back over and drifted into welcome unconsciousness.

That night Itsuki dreamt strangely vivid dreams. Kyon was there, standing over his bed with a look that was most un-Kyonlike. It was smug, it was sexy, it was unmistakably wicked.

"What are you doing here?" Itsuki wanted to ask but the words wouldn't form and the sound stuck in his throat. Kyon gave an uncharacteristic smirk at his shock and slowly slid onto the bed until he was straddling the frozen Esper. Itsuki knew he was dreaming but no dream had ever felt so deliciously real as Kyon leaned down and whispered into his ear, "I'm here to show you that reality is relentless."

"What?" the strangled reply was forced out as Itsuki's consciousness tried desperately to focus on making this incredibly desirable dream Kyon vanish. Denial was good. Denial saved the earth.

"You want me."

Denial was easier thought than done.

He tried. He tried so hard to wake up, to make Kyon disappear, but nothing was responding and he couldn't stop himself leaning into the hot kiss that was slowly forcing his ever-watching half-consciousness into submission. Kyon's hips ground with slow deliberation against his and Itsuki had to stop kissing to gasp as a jolt of pleasure shot through him. Apparently pleased by this reaction, the hot mouth kissed along his jaw before assaulting the sensitive skin of his neck.

"St-stop!" but the dream Kyon kept moving, his hips thrusting against Itsuki's, the duvet shoved aside, hands roaming, feeling, fingers tangling in the silky, sweat slicked hair of the boy beneath him. Itsuki's eyes were closed, he couldn't see, he only felt. It was torture, beautiful, wonderful torture. How far this would go Itsuki didn't know, and his muddled senses were confusing him so that he couldn't tell if he was praying for this to end or to go on forever.

Kyon's mouth moved over his chest, down. His hips stopped moving. Kyon's mouth inched lower and Itsuki bit his lip and closed his eyes, no longer caring that this was what he had been trying to pretend he hadn't wanted ever since he'd laid eyes on the stoic schoolboy.

Thank God this is only a dream.

Opening his eyes he saw Kyon looking at him, eyes glinting, mouth prepared to plunge all coherent thought into oblivion. And then, with a cold smirk, he vanished. The surprise jerked Itsuki's imagination back to wakeful reality and he lay on his bed, shaking and gasping, unable to deny that it was burning desire pooled in his stomach.

Stumbling to the shower, he turned the tap full on cold and sighed against the tiled wall. What the hell was that? He'd never had such a vivid dream before, although he sure as hell wouldn't mind another one. And why had Kyon been so different? He'd looked so, so... And that look in his eyes... Ituski shivered and twisted the tap until it jammed.

He knew those eyes so well, that cold, calculating glance, the heated blaze. They were his eyes. Itsuki only had to turn to the mirror and he'd see them looking back at him, taunting his previous naivety.

Of course.

With a sigh of relief Itsuki pushed the puzzle aside. So it was really that simple. His own eyes looking out through Kyon's. Possessive, powerful, the undeniable seme; the whole thing was one of those weird dream analogies. Itsuki decided that made sense. It had to, given that should the situation ever arise, which it mustn't and wouldn't, he definitely wanted to be the one pushing Kyon down.

No. No more. He thrust the burning images from his mind and distracted himself with morning routine before pulling open the front door and stepping out into the morning drizzle. He glanced up at the heavy clouds and then contorted his face into the cheerful facade that he would wear until the heavy door slammed behind him again, the most welcome "welcome home" he could ever receive.

Slowly, tentatively, I venture into the writing of M rated fiction! I hope to have the next chapter up soon and we shall be back to characteristic Kyon! Woo! Reviews are absolute love XD