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Winter Wonder

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Amuro didn’t want to admit how difficult it was to pick a lock when you could barely feel your fingers. The cabin porch offered only minor protection from the howling blizzard winds. The cold was made horribly worse by the fact that they were soaked to the bone. Conan was barely shivering anymore, held to Amuro’s chest by the straining zipper of this jacket.

Amuro thanked gods he no longer believed in when the lock clicked open. It was only slightly warmer than outside but at least the wind was no longer ripping at them.

“We’re going to be okay, Conan-kun.” Amuro rubbed his hands over the boy’s small body.

Too small, too easy for heat to escape. Amuro slammed the door closed behind them, relocking it and allowed his eyes just a moment to adjust to the dark. He practically lunged for the fireplace, thankful to the owners who were smart enough to keep a decent supply of firewood and tinder next to the fireplace for once. With trembling hands, he built a fire, adrenaline singing in his veins. He looked down, checking that Conan was still conscious. Barely open blue eyes, glazed over, peeked from the collar of his coat.

He could barely feel any warmth from the boy. Hypothermia was setting in. Of that, Amuro was certain.

“I know you have bad luck, Conan-kun. But getting thrown over the edge of a ravine in the middle of a blizzard is a bit excessive.” Amuro’s teeth chattered as he spoke, trying to keep up a steady stream of conversation.

A snow lodge trip to investigate the second wife of the lodge owner for cheating turned into a double homicide as the owner’s son shot his father and stepmother. Turned out, the adult son of the owner had been dating the stepmother three years prior. After the breakup, she had started dating the young man’s father, marrying the man after only six months. The son made it look like a murder-suicide, but Conan had figured it out. The suspect had run out into the blizzard, prompting Conan to take off after him.

Amuro, Ran, and Kogoro had followed. Conan was trying to talk the man down, to stop him from throwing himself off the cliff edge. Seeing the three adults had changed the man’s mind. Instead, he grabbed Conan, threatened to throw him over. Ran had tried her hand at talking the man down and it seemed to be going well when a strong gust of wind had blown snow into the man’s face. His fingers slipped, Conan’s arm falling from his grasp.

Everything had slowed down. Amuro swore his heart was going to pound out of his chest. He didn’t even hesitate. He had launched himself off the cliff edge, arms wrapping around Conan and propelling them away from the jagged rocks that surely would have killed them. Luckily, it wasn’t that deep of a ravine. They were close to the waterfall, so the water was moving, not frozen. It didn’t change the fact that Amuro was sure his entire back was forming a singular bruise.

The river had washed them into a frozen lake bordered by a campground. Amuro had rushed them to the closest cabin, but it was still 20 minutes walking. The blizzard had frozen them stiff. Conan’s small body had given out within minutes, prompting Amuro to fit the boy under his own coat, pressed tight against his own body. At six foot two, and in peak physical condition, Amuro had some extra minutes before hypothermia would set in. At least enough time to save one child.

Amuro groaned with relief when the fire began to grow, warmth almost painful against his fingertips. His nail beds were turning bruised, even beneath his dark skin. Ripping open the frozen zipper of his jacket, Amuro caught Conan before he could tumble to the floor. The boy blinked sluggishly. He didn’t even try to uncurl his icy body.

Amuro stripped the boy out of the green coat and black turtleneck sweater he’d been wearing. Next came sneakers, socks, jeans, and underwear, all ripped off with haste that would have had the boy wincing if he could feel it through his numb skin. Amuro frowned at the purple/blue tinge working its way up Conan’s fingers and toes. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent. Amuro curled Conan up in front of the fire, leaving him momentarily naked on the carpet, hands and feet pointed at the flames. He brushed a hand through Conan’s frozen hair, knocking literal ice chunks from the chestnut strands.

Amuro stood, stripping his own coat and shirt as he did. He tested a light switch, but as expected, the power was out. A quick check of the taps revealed the pipes were frozen but the cabinets had cases of water and some canned food items as well as some common kitchen items so they wouldn’t have to worry about food or water. He found a fully stocked liquor cabinet, which he gladly snagged a bottle of bourbon from, and a bathroom that had two bathrobes hanging on a door hook. Amuro shucked off his frozen pants and underwear, throwing on the larger of the two robes.

Amuro continued through the cabin. The single bedroom contained a linen closet. Amuro ripped down as many blankets as he could hold. With no electricity, there would be no light and no other heat aside from the fireplace. The house had enough normal wood to last them several hours. He could stretch it further by breaking the wooden furnishings in the house, starting with the tables and chairs. With a game plan in mind, Amuro went back to Conan.

The boy’s cheeks were pinking up slightly from his proximity to the fire which was good. He still looked dazed. Amuro dumped the blankets on the floor and drug the love seat in the room forward. Instead of sitting on it, Amuro positioned it so that he could use it to support his back, settling on the floor in front of it. He took a large, thick blanket from the pile and wrapped it around his shoulders. He left the bathrobe open. The heat of the fire on his toes was scalding but he ignored it.

Crossing his legs, Amur pulled Conan off the floor and settled the boy in his lap. Conan offered a small sound of discontent as his probably stiff muscles were stretched.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Conan-kun, we’re going to get you warm now. You’ll be okay.” Amuro pressed a kiss to his temple.

He’d been so sure they were going to die together as they hit the water. He wouldn’t have minded. Amuro’s back ached where it pressed into the loveseat. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining that injury to Kazami. Thinking of his subordinate, Amuro glanced at the phone hanging from Conan’s pocket and the detective boys’ badge still pinned to the shirt. He could only hope that those would work after a night of drying out because his own phone had been washed away in the river.

Amuro pulled Conan as close as possible and drew those tiny hands between his own. He rubbed each finger, sliding them between his, stroking and massaging to get blood back into the digits.

“What can you even do with these tiny hands? You rush into danger like you’re immortal, or like you want to die. You can’t just let adults take care of it. You even try to save criminals who don’t hesitate to threaten to throw you off cliffs!” Amuro stopped his rant when those same small hands curved around his fingers.

“Mm…no yelling…M’sorry, didn’t know he would…” Conan’s head wobbled back and forth as though he was trying to clear his head.

Amuro didn’t think the boy had a concussion but they had hit the water so hard it had knocked the air out of both of them. He was sure that between the cold, the water that almost drowned him, and the impact, Conan was more than a little unwell. Seeing the purple recede to angry red on the boy’s fingers, Amuro folded Conan’s arms. He tucked those tiny hands beneath Conan’s smooth armpits and leaned forward start rubbing blood into Conan’s feet.

“I wish you would rely on us more…on me more.” Amuro huffed, low in Conan’s ear.

Awareness was coming back slowly. For a while, he’d been too cold to think. He had flashes of memory and recognition. Amuro cursing as he tried to pick the lock on a cabin. The first lick of agonizing warmth as Amuro started the fire. His clothes being pulled off. He felt embarrassed, Amuro was seeing him naked for the first time. But Amuro was quick and efficient. Alone, Conan had attempted to pull his scattered thoughts together. He wasn’t even aware of time passing. Not until Amuro pulled him into his lap.

The man’s skin was icy against his back. But at least he could feel temperatures again. His teeth were clenched so tightly, he thought they would crack. When the trembling returned to his limbs, as Amuro worked blood into his fingers, he was honestly thankful. The danger was passing. Even Amuro was warming against his back as the fire fought against the cold air outside. The cabin was modern and well insulated, so the heat actually filled the room. He was aware Amuro was naked underneath him, that thought rising a different type of heat inside of him but not one his body could react to in this condition.

“Onii-chan…thank you.” Conan forced the gratitude through shattering teeth.

Amuro froze for a moment, before pressing his lips to still wet hair. It wasn’t fair that Conan was this cute even when almost frozen, even when Amuro wanted to be angry about his recklessness. Amuro clasped those frigid feet in one hand, reaching out for the smaller bath robe that lay on top of the pile of blankets. He used the towel-like material to gently dry Conan’s hair.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always protect you, Conan-kun.” Amuro breathed the words.

When Conan began to shake in his arms and Amuro was sure the boy was on the mend, he stood and settled onto the couch. He turned Conan to lay on his chest, the arm of the couch digging into the stiff bruise. Conan immediately curled into his chest, resting his now warm hands against Amuro’s cool flesh. Amuro began piling blankets on top of them. Amuro’s own degree of hypothermia could be handled with a lot of blankets and a roaring fire, both of which they had. The naked body pressed into his own was an added bonus.

“I feel like…you’re enjoying this…” Conan sighs into Amuro’s neck.

It was nice to have full use of his jaw again, the muscles there aching from how tightly it had been clenched during their little adventure. He felt Amuro’s lips curve into a smile against his hair, felt the way Amuro’s hands curled around Conan’s thighs where they were spread over his waist. If the situation was different… If the person was different, Conan would have been struggling. But this is his Amuro-no-niichan and they are facing hypothermia and for once no one is allowed to judge them for their close contact.

“You almost died… I think you can allow me this much.” Amuro responded, running his hands down Conan’s legs to tuck tiny, cold feet between his thighs.

“You need to take better care of yourself too. Don’t think I missed how you winced when you sat on the couch. You landed on your back; I’m amazed your ribs aren’t broken.” Conan huffed, rubbing his hands over Amuro’s sides.

“They aren’t, I can breathe fine. The bruise will probably look a lot worse than it is.” Amuro shrugged.

Conan sucked in a sharp breath when Amuro’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of his ass, long digits reaching all the way to the crease of his thighs.

“Watch your fingers, neither of us are in any condition for that.” Conan bit out, embarrassed despite his own wants.

“It would certainly warm us up.” Amuro responded, tone far more lighthearted than he felt.

They had almost died. Amuro wanted to reconfirm that Conan was alive. That they were both okay. He leaned forward to bury his face into Conan’s hair. He smelled like frozen water and winter air and the soft scent of the strawberry shower gel Mouri Ran buys. It always felt a bit forbidden, the scent of children’s bodywash on his small lover. More so that Amuro enjoyed the scent. They had only started this fragile relationship four months before hand. He didn’t want to push. Hadn’t intended to push. But he wanted the reassurance of a warm body, wanted to confirm that they were alive by burning off the remaining adrenaline.

Pulling himself together, Amuro trailed his hands to Conan’s hips. He felt a soft gust of warm breath against his neck as the boy relaxed again. Amuro kissed Conan’s head before reaching to the bottle of bourbon he’d secured.

“You know that alcohol doesn’t actually warm you, right? That’s just a myth.” Conan hummed, eyeing the bottle.

“It doesn’t but it does make you feel better. It’s not like I’m planning to stumble back out into the blizzard.” Amuro responded, unscrewing the cap.

It was a decent brand, Four Roses single barrel. A solid import with a nice finish. Particularly good brand for whiskey sours but drinking it straight wouldn’t be a problem. Personally, he wasn’t that much of a fan. But something about drinking his namesake fit with his current mood.

Somewhere, Vermouth was probably laughing at him.

“Bourbon? Really?” Conan’s deadpan words made Amuro huff a laugh in response.

Without any fanfare, Amuro took a swing from the bottle. It burned, the room temperature liquor almost hot on his tongue. He preferred his on the rocks but even thinking of ice-cubes hurt right now. He coughed softly, shaking his head as heat spread in his chest. It felt good. He took another long pull.

Conan watched Amuro drink straight from the bottle. There was a rawness to the act. The way long fingers wrapped around the square bottle, the was his lips parted around the mouth of it. The way Amuro’s Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp. The fact that he didn’t hack or sputter despite the burn of Bourbon. It spoke of experience, more than that, it spoke of desperation. Amuro was a man who clearly drank with reckless abandon often enough to not get caught off guard by the heat and sharpness of the taste. When Amuro lowered it, a fifth of the bottle was gone.

He could feel Amuro relax under him, the coil of tension softening as the man let out a languid sigh.

“I want to try…” The words were out before Conan even fully formed the thought.

Pale blue eyes fell to his face, wide with surprise.

“This doesn’t taste good, Conan-kun.” Amuro answered hesitantly.

It wasn’t a no.

“I don’t care… If you’re going to get drunk I want to relax too.” Conan put up a good front.

If he was willing to be honest… He was scared. Scared when the man’s hand had slipped. Scared when he’d seen the horror on everyone’s faces. Scared when he’d seen Amuro launch himself off the cliff in response. Scared until the water and the cold had snatched his thoughts and left him numb to the world. He wasn’t surprised that Amuro had followed him. The man had so few attachments to the world and a deep seeded fear of losing anymore loved ones. When he had agreed to their relationship, he knew he was involving himself with someone that he couldn’t leave beyond. Sometimes he still wondered why he had agreed.

Amuro’s affections were abnormal. Conan looked like a seven year old. And Amuro hadn’t learned his true age until after he first confessed to Conan. Not that he thought the man was a pedophile. Not in the traditional sense. Amuro was infatuated with his mind first. The body the mind was attached to didn’t matter. Amuro hadn’t cared if that mind was inside a child or a teen or an adult.

It was rewarding, in its own way. Conan felt seen by Amuro in ways that no one else could see him. Not even Hattori. Not even KID. Amuro was a unique existence for him. A man with nothing to lose had latched on to him, challenged him, then rewarded and praised him. Conan hadn’t thought he would fall in love during this time but Amuro had won him over through dedication and no small amount of lemon pie.

“And if the alcohol makes you grow?” Amuro raised a brow.

“I’m not sick. But if it does, then you’ll get to spend a few hours with drunk Shinichi. Is that so bad?” Conan challenged in response.

There was something hot in Amuro’s eyes when he let Conan sit up a little further, knees brushing along Amuro’s sides. Amuro pressed the bottle against Conan’s lips, gaze heavy. He was barely breathing under Conan’s hands. Conan wanted to grab the bottle but with that look on Amuro’s face… Conan parted his lips, letting Amuro pour a small amount of the liquid into his mouth.

And then he sputtered, the alcohol burning and making him choke.

Amuro immediately pulled the bottle back, letting Conan hack and heave for a moment. His eyes watered. Something dark passed in Amuro’s expression, his hand coming up to grasp Conan’s hair, wrenching his head back just as he was getting his breathing under control. Before Conan could question the man, Amuro took another mouthful from the bottle before pressing his lips to Conan’s.

Burning liquor was forced down Conan’s throat but Amuro’s invading tongue. He was pinned close despite his desire to cough the liquid back up. He was given no reprieve. As soon as one mouthful was pushed down his throat, Amuro was pulling back to take another swig. More sharp liquid poured into his mouth but this time, the burn was lessened. Against his better judgement, Conan’s arms stretched up around Amuro’s neck.

“Zero-niichan…” Conan choked his secret nickname into Amuro’s mouth.

That tongue did wicked things. It pushed the liquor down his throat, prodded and teased his tongue, flicked over his teeth and gums, pressed deep to prod at his pallet. Conan did his best to kiss back, did his best to return the frantic feelings.

When Amuro pulled back, Conan’s expression was sinful. Flushed cheeks, drooling mouth, glassy eyed…

“Tell me to stop, Conan-kun. Tell me to stop and I will…I swear…” Amuro breathed the words into Conan’s ear, lips catching his lobe.

Conan shivered despite the heat blooming in his chest. Stop? Oh. Conan felt the hot and hard erection pressing into his ass. Did he want to stop? Neither of them were in any condition for this. But now he was warm and Amuro felt so good against him…

“Don’t stop, I want more.” Conan’s fingers tightened in Amuro’s blond hair.

The strands were still damp and cool against his fingers but not frigid. He felt more than heard Amuro’s groan. The fingers in Conan’s hair wrenched his head sideways as seeking lips kissed and sucked a path from his ear to his bare shoulder. Teeth dug into every sensitive spot, hot tongue soothing the marks as soon as they were made. Conan could only hold on.

Amuro set the bottle back on the floor and used the free hand to cup Conan’s soft ass. Conan was so small. Narrow hips, slim thighs, delicate waist, wrists and ankles and legs and arms that Amuro could break like toothpicks. It brought out something vicious and cruel in his soul. It brought out something tender in his heart. He wants to bend and break and cuddle and sooth. All these contradictory emotions had pushed him to approach the boy. And now he had him… And Conan was letting him take him.

“I want to break you, Conan-kun. Why do you let me touch you…I could kill you…” Amuro whispered into Conan’s flesh even as his fingers went seeking for that tight ring of muscle.
Amuro tilted Conan back, hauling up to lick and suckle on the boy’s small pink nipples. They were already pebbled from the cold. Conan moaned, sensitive from cold and alcohol. His head was swimming. Amuro’s mouth was so warm…

“Maybe…maybe I want you to break me.” Conan whispered the words once his addled mind was able to comprehend Amuro’s words.

He wanted to be touched. He wanted to be loved. He wanted Amuro to do whatever he wanted to him. Why had he stopped him earlier? They were hurt…but this felt too good. He felt alive. They had almost died and now he felt so very alive.

“Don’t say that… Don’t say that or I will.” Amuro growled the words low and pained.

Amuro dumped Conan back into the blankets, splaying the boy for him to see. He needed lube… Leaning over the couch, Amuro fished for his sodden jacket, finding his wallet in the inside pocket. There was a packet of lube he kept just in case…you never could be too prepared. They had been staying in a scenic mountain lodge, Amuro was allowed to dream. And for once he was glad for that hint of hope.

“Zero-no-niichan… I feel warm.” Conan squirmed, flushed and pretty against the pile of blankets.

Amuro dropped the packet of lube on Conan’s soft belly before picking up the bottle of bourbon again. He took another long drag before cupping the back of Conan’s head. Conan opened his mouth immediately, the image making Amuro’s cock twitch at the thought of being between those beautiful lips. Amuro let Conan take several large gulps before setting the bottle aside permanently. Between the two of them, they had finished over half the bottle. Most of it was rolling, hot and empowering, in Amuro’s gut.

As soon as he put the bottle aside, Amuro captured Conan’s lips. He nipped and sucked on Conan’s bottom lip, licked between his teeth and sunk into the kiss like he was coming home. Conan tasted like liquor and like the winter melon he had been eating at the lodge. Refreshingly bitter. Amuro’s fingers wandered down Conan’s body, skirting over ticklish ribs and narrow hips to the small, hard dick begging for attention.

Conan jerked, hips bucking into Amuro’s palm, looking for friction.

“Look at you, so desperate for it now. You said we weren’t in any condition for this.” The haze of liquor loosened Amuro’s tongue more than ever. “I’m going to fill you up and make you warm inside. And you’ll warm me up in return, all hot and tight around my cock.”

Conan had never thought Amuro would be talkative in bed. And perhaps he usually wasn’t. Whether it was the alcohol or the fact that they almost died, Conan wasn’t sure. His mind was hazy. He wanted to be taken care of.

Amuro shifted under the blankets, up to his knees on the narrow couch. His back was stiff and sore as he stretched over Conan. Amuro tore open the packet of lube, abandoning Conan’s dick for progressing their love making. Amuro wanted to be buried to the hilt inside of Conan now.

He slicked the fingers of one hand, running a wet finger over Conan’s balls before sinking his middle finger deep into Conan. The boy twitched and arched, the sudden stretch sending sapphire eyes flickering to meet Amuro’s.

Amuro doesn’t wait as long as he should before he’s fitting a second finger and then a third inside of Conan. It’s warm and tight and hot. He smiles, lazy and content, when Conan reaches for him, eyes sparkling with pleasure and muscles twitching. Amuro teases that spot, Conan’s prostate, mercilessly. Three fingers stretching tight muscle. The effects of the alcohol are obvious, Conan is bucking his hips, face and chest stained red, soft and pliant and elastic.

Amuro catches one of those desperate hands, pressing his lips to the still red fingers before taking them into his mouth. He runs his tongue between the digits, sucking and slurping and Conan’s entire arm trembles and twitches in his grasp. The boy looks debauched and they haven’t even gotten started.

“Do you feel good, Conan-kun? I want you to enjoy this, I want you to remember how much you loved having me inside you…I want you to crave my fingers, my tongue, my cock.” Amuro grinds his rock-hard erection against Conan’s tiny foot which had wedged itself there in their shuffling.

“Onii-chan…feels good…like…like I have to pee but…better.” Conan mumbles and slurs, voice tilted more childish than usual. He knew how it felt to cum...and yet in this body the sensation felt different, strange and new and foreign and dangerous.

The alcohol had worked wonders on the small body. Amuro had wanted their first time to be more romantic. Something slow and sweet and gentle. But their lives couldn’t be described as any of those things. They were always desperate, always in danger. And if that was what they had then Amuro would snatch whatever moments he could. He knew all to well how quickly the things you love can be ripped away. Better to live without regrets, taking what he wanted then to mourn every missed opportunity.

He’d lost one future already. He wasn’t going to let this new one slip through his fingers.

“You’re beautiful like this, Conan-kun. So beautiful.” He pressed Conan’s fingers, slick with saliva, into Conan’s own open mouth.

Amuro watched with rapt attention as the boy eagerly sucked Amuro’s spit from his fingers. Feeling lust burn hot and bright in his stomach, Amuro drove his own fingers deeper into Conan, torturing that sensitive spot.

“Amuro-niichan! Too much!” Conan’s back bows, his voice slurred around the fingers in his mouth.

But Amuro doesn’t stop, he tortured that spot, feeling Conan clamp around his fingers, falling apart. An orgasm ripped from a body so small, so young, it could only offer a pitiful splash of clear liquid. Amuro grit his teeth, yanking his fingers free without even waiting for Conan’s orgasm to subside.

Amuro sat back, pouring what remained of the lube on his cock. Once he was slick, he wrapped his hands around Conan’s thighs, pushing the boy’s knees up to his chest. Conan’s twitching, slightly gaping hole was pink and fluttering and exposed. Amuro didn’t wait a moment longer, couldn’t even begin to find the strength to hold back.

He pressed the tip of his cock against that wet hole and thrust. Conan’s back bowed. He struggled, sightless and pleasure drunk. Amuro released Conan’s thighs to lock his arms around those too thin legs. Holding them to his chest, tiny toes curling near his face, Amuro sunk further in. Conan didn’t know if he wanted to move closer or push him away. He was so full. He felt like Amuro was going to come out his mouth.

And still more was pushed in.

With alcohol and adrenaline burning in his veins, Amuro’s impulse control had fallen as low as his nickname. He knew he shouldn’t be trying to force his entire length into such a small body. Should show some restraint. And yet he couldn’t. He knew he was well endowed, 10 inches long and a significant girth usually requiring plenty of foreplay to enter. And he had never fucked someone as small as Conan. Women had a definitive end, you could only go so far. But Conan…small, pliant, delicate, breakable Conan…

Amuro lowered one of Conan’s legs to fall, limp and twitching, around his waist. He slid his hand up to Conan’s hip. He pressed Conan’s other leg up, into the boy’s chest. That got a response. Conan who had be clawing at the blankets and drooling with pleasure gave a cry, shaking his head desperately.

“Too far, too far! Onii-chan-“ His cry was cut off as Conan swore he felt something pop and then intense pressure and pleasure laced through his mind.

Amuro stared down at Conan’s soft, pale stomach. There, under the boy’s bellybutton, his cock bulged and deformed the flesh. It was destructive. He was forcing Conan’s organs to make a home for him. And yet Conan looked completely blissed out. Either from the alcohol or from the sex, Amuro couldn’t be sure.

“Ah…haha…Can you feel that Conan-kun? I’m so deep inside of you… I wonder if it hurts, it doesn’t look like it hurts, you look drunk… Do you enjoy bourbon that much? Or is it my cock making you look so wonder struck?” Amuro let the words pour from his lips, unable to even reign in his thoughts when Conan was hot and twitching and wet around his cock.

He ground against that deep place inside Conan that made the pressure worse, made Conan feel like he couldn’t breathe, like Amuro was pressed all the way to his lungs.

“O-onii-chan…” Conan gave a wet sob, arms up, begging to be hugged.

He didn’t have the words. He wanted to be held. It was too much. His brain and body were flying apart under Amuro.

As if he could read Conan’s mind, Amuro let Conan’s leg slide down so that both cradled his hips. Amuro tipped forward, drawing Conan into his arms. Small hands immediately sunk around his chest, tiny fingers digging into the awful bruise there. Amuro groaned at the pain that simply drove his pleasure higher. Conan sobbed and moaned with every tiny movement, completely overcome by sensation his was too drunk to process.

“Shh, I’ve got you Conan-kun. I’ve got you, just let yourself go…I’ll take care of you…” Amuro breathed the words.

He gave Conan only a few more seconds, enough to fall into the hug but not enough to breathe, and then he was moving. Amuro rolled his hips, barely exiting and yet somehow driving deeper. It was like the crashing of waves, wearing away whatever scattered thoughts Conan was able to pull together. Amuro was wearing away his mind, leaving nothing but thoughts of the man and a burning desire for more.

“Onii-chan, Zero-niichan! More, love, want!” Conan panted and sobbed a litany of broken thoughts into Amuro’s chest.

Amuro groaned, thrusting harder, pulling out further, until he was fucking his entire length in and out of Conan. He could feel the boy’s stomach being deformed where they pressed close. He let one hand trail down Conan’s back to cup his ass, fingers prodding Conan’s overstretch and sensitive rim.

Conan couldn’t even process where the pleasure was coming from. Was it inside of him, where Amuro carved open spaces that should have remained untouched? Was it where their groined pressed together, his small dick rubbed with every thrust?

“Good boy, Conan-kun. You’re taking me so well. You’re so beautiful. God, I can’t take much more of this. You’re so tight and warm and beautiful. You’re so good for me, so wonderful and precious. I love you, Conan-kun.” Amuro’s voice was sinful, low and groaning and possessive and sweet. It fluctuated and flowed, and it was the final straw for Conan.

Conan came with a broken sob. Amuro hadn’t said those words yet. Hearing them like this was just too much for him to handle.

Amuro groaned, broken and feral, as that impossibly tight heat got even more excruciating. Conan came dry against him, untouched. How gifted was this boy? Amuro’s thrusts grew erratic. Sooner than he liked, he would have liked to have lived inside Conan forever, he came. Conan gave a weak, half-conscious moan as heat flooded him, molten under his belly button.

Amuro stayed there, buried deep for a few long minutes. Conan was limp in his arms. Amuro puffed a soft sigh, sitting up straight, untensing exhausted muscles. Conan was blinking blearily, glassy eyed and red faced when Amuro pulled out. A shiver went up Amuro’s spine, watching his cum leak from that red hole. Conan was gaping.

He earned a whimper from the boy when he used the bathrobe to mop up some of the cum and lube leaking from him. Amuro wiped off his cock, tossing the dirtied garments to the floor. Standing from the couch, Amuro threw a few more logs on the fire and grabbed a few water bottles. He chugged one, cracking another to press to Conan’s lips. At first, Conan refused, turning his head.

“It’s just water, Conan-kun. No more alcohol for us, I think.” Amuro smiled softly, fingers gentle in Conan’s hair.

Finally, Conan sucked down half the bottle.

Amuro rearranged their blanket pile, lifting Conan so he could lay under the boy. Conan curled against Amuro’s chest, ear pressed firmly over his heart. Amuro held Conan with one arm and pulled the blankets over them, creating a cocoon. Conan was already asleep by the time he was done settling them.


Rescue came in the form of megaphone wielding Kogoro. Search and rescue had followed the river and brought the Mouri’s to the lake where they were sure the pair would have been washed too. Amuro, with a flare gun he’d found after they had awoken, flagged them down. The lake had frozen during the night, meaning they would have to wait for search and rescue to drive into the campground.

It would be a few hours, but they were going to be fine.

Conan watched Amuro gather their clothes, now dried, and clean up the remains of the kitchen table he had broken to keep the fire fed. An entire night and half a day. Conan had slept through most of it. Between the harrowing survival, the alcohol, and the sex, he had been completely worn out. Amuro had taken care of everything.

It was when he was dressed. When they were standing by the door, watching the rescue vehicle draw closer, that Conan took Amuro’s hand.

“I love you too, Zero.” Conan said with more confidence than he thought he would be able to get out.

He squeezed Amuro’s hand, reassuring and comforting. There was no response for a few seconds. When Conan peered up, he couldn’t help the wide smile that split his face.

Amuro’s ears were tinged red long after they were rescued.