
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2237868.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      名探偵コナン_|_Detective_Conan_|_Case_Closed
  Relationship:
      Kudou_Shinichi_|_Edogawa_Conan/Kuroba_Kaito_|_Kaitou_Kid
  Character:
      Kudou_Shinichi_|_Edogawa_Conan, Kuroba_Kaito_|_Kaitou_Kid, Hakuba_Saguru,
      Suzuki_Jirokichi
  Additional Tags:
      Shota, Size_Kink, Intersex, Consensual_But_Not_Safe_Or_Sane, I_mean_it
      this_is_NOT_safe, Consent_Issues, jirokichi_wtf, surprise_emotional
      landmine
  Series:
      Part 3 of Adjustable_Size
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-01 Words: 4436
****** Sizing Things Up ******
by joisbishmyoga
Summary
     Kid's head thumps onto Conan's chest. "I know that face," he groans.
     "You're not going to drop this." Conan doesn't dignify that with an
     answer, and Kid's head thumps minutely a second time. "Okay."
     Okay what?
     "Okay," Kid repeats more softly, more resolutely. Then he raises his
     head, just enough to peek out from under his messy bangs. "I've been
     working on a new aerosol," he admits.

"Ow--ow, stop."  Conan winces as Kid pulls the #7 out, the slight flare at the
base of the plastic glans catching at his vaginal opening before popping
relievingly free.  All the tension Conan's been trying to fight drains from his
tiny body, and he sags into the mattress.  "This isn't working."  A couple hot
tears of frustration slide down his temples and into his hair.

Kid sighs.  "We got to the #7 this time," he points out.

"I want you."  

It's been weeks since that single encounter, while Conan was Shin'ichi and
still struggling with the fact of his new orifice.  He's okay with it now, and
sex that way would be wonderful, hitting all of Conan's size and submission
kinks, if he could just open up enough to make it work.

Kid drops a light kiss between Conan's eyebrows, smoothing out the wrinkles
there.  "Orgasming first hasn't worked," he muses aloud, fingers trailing
absently over Conan's narrow chest.  "Neither has massage, sleep, the
restraints," which had been a resounding failure worse than the other attempts,
paradoxically working Conan up too much to take more than the #4, "or just
slowly working our way up in increments.  I think we might have to shelve the
idea and wait for your next drug trial."

He's missing the whole point.  There has to be a way.  There just has to-
- wait, what did he say? "Drugs," Conan echoes.

Kid's hand goes still on Conan's stomach.  "Meitantei."

"Not illegal drugs," Conan says hastily.  "I was thinking more like your
aerosol stuff, except something that would leave me conscious.  Maybe Haibara
has some muscle relaxers..."

"Do you really want to have to explain to her why you want them?" Kid asks, not
pointedly, just with honest open curiosity.  It makes Conan wince, though,
because no, absolutely not.

Think.  Think.  There has to be a solution.

Kid's head thumps onto Conan's chest.  "I know that face," he groans.  "You're
not going to drop this."  Conan doesn't dignify that with an answer, and Kid's
head thumps minutely a second time.  "Okay."

Okay what?

"Okay," Kid repeats more softly, more resolutely.  Then he raises his head,
just enough to peek out from under his messy bangs.  "I've been working on a
new aerosol," he admits.

Conan's mouth goes dry.  "Yeah?"

"What I've got right now?  The Task Force are building up a resistance to it...
Hakuba-kun's down to two minutes flat.  But I can't make it any stronger
without endangering them, so I need something new."  Kid pushes himself up,
flicks his bangs out of his eyes.  "I'm aiming for extremely limited paralysis,
something that'll spray right through clothes and turn off voluntary muscle
control only where it hits.  All temporary, of course," he adds quickly.

That would be... well, a bit dangerous, if Kid were any other criminal, but
Conan's pretty sure that Kid'll safely catch whoever he renders unable to stand
up with that.  "I'm hearing a 'but' in there."

Kid's teeth flash in something not really like a smile.  "Buuuuuuuut," he
drawls, "the 'limited' part's not working so well.  I can't get it to go
through skin, and inhaling it turns off the somatic nervous system."

"Leaving someone fully conscious," Conan prompts, mind racing.  "And the entire
autonomic nervous system...?"

"Blinking, breathing, heartbeat," Kid ticks off, fingers flipping one by one
into the air.  "Sweating, swallowing, sex."  He pauses, reconsiders. 
"Presumably sex.  It's all unaffected, as far as I've tested."

Conan doesn't believe in coincidence.  But.  "Kid, that's perfect."

"No."

What?  "No?"

"I'm only telling you so that you don't go thinking up something worse," Kid
says.  "It's too dangerous."

Conan can't help but scoff at that, a harsh little sound that's half-laughter
in his throat and nose.  As if he'd ever be in any danger from Kid.

"Meitantei."  Kid bends down once more, eyes hard and forehead pressed to
Conan's own.  "It's physically safe.  It's chemically safe.  What it's not,
is... is... Meitantei, you wouldn't be able to revoke consent."

... Oh.

Conan's eyes flutter shut and he squirms.  That's.  Really.  Not a problem at
all.  In theory.

He wouldn't even need the restraints.  Kid could spread him out across the bed,
or couch, or floor.  He could cover himself with Conan like a small blanket and
slide inside, or lift him up, head lolling across Kid's shoulder, and hold him
open across his lap.  Make him watch himself, filled with Kid in the mirror. 
Have Kid in one hole and the #8 -- or #8.5 or maybe even the #9 -- in the
other.  Kid in his mouth.  Kid playing with his foreskin.  Kid's deft fingers
and tongue and toys buzzing unbearably over the few ticklish spots that Conan
has left.  And Conan couldn't tell him to stop.

Kid huffs and nips at his nose.  "No.  No," another nip, "no.  Gods you worry
me sometimes, Meitantei.  What is it about being helpless that you like so
much?"  

It's a rhetorical question, and good thing because Conan can't articulate it
even if he wasn't in the grips of a far too good imagination.  He can barely
move under the onslaught.  But he does, he does; he manages to get a hand up,
clawing needily at the air for a moment before he catches hair and pulls.  "I
need."  So many images in his mind, Kid in him Kid on him Kid taking him-- 
"Now."  He's not even kissing, really, just lips and tongue and words pressed
sloppily onto Kid's mouth.  "In me, something, anything--"

"Okay."  Kid sounds nearly startled, but the next thing Conan knows, he's on
his stomach with a hand snaking under his hip and behind his balls, where Kid's
cock is rubbing its full length into the slickness there.  A couple of slight
adjustments angle Conan's hips up, get his small cock rubbing up against a hard
joint in Kid's wrist, and then Kid's fingers and cock slide into Conan's two
openings at once.

It's so close to what he wants.

It's not what he wants at all.


-0-0-0


Several days later, the full moon shines down upon another heist.

Suzuki Jirokichi really needs to find a hobby, Conan thinks, as he slides open
a shoji screen only to find a glowing lightbox wall.  Again.

"Since putting the gems out in the open with no cover didn't work," the man had
proclaimed at the grand unveiling, "this time I've created the perfect site! 
Gentlemen, I present to you... Suzuki Ninja-dera!"

Helicopters high above rose at his broadcast voice, motors straining just a
little more loudly as they dragged huge swathes of white cloth off the site. 
Slowly, patches of rock garden and flagstone paths became visible; then stucco
walls and polished verandas; then the low-hanging eaves of steeply-pitched
roofs, until the last bit of fabric slid off the highest peak and billowed
away.

The result had made more jaws than Conan's drop (in horror).  Jirokichi had
taken a mishmash of elements from several tourist attractions -- Conan could
identify Myoryuuji of the trap's namesake, Ninja Village in Koga, and Karakura
Yashiki in Nagano -- and created a building complex that looked like someone
had taken a daimyo's palace footprint, built a Buddhist temple on it, and then
razed several buildings to put up farmhouses and village townhouses.

Jirokichi brayed with triumphant laughter.  "Inside, Suzuki Ninja-dera is a
bona fide maze!  Trapdoors!  Secret passages!  Hidden rooms!  All waiting to be
filled with men ready to sneak up on and capture Kid!  Bwahahaha!  I've got you
this time, Kid!"

Conan thumps his head against the wall behind the false door.  He's really
going to kick Jirokichi-jiisama.  Whenever he gets out of here.  He thumps his
head again.

Something underneath him goes click and the floor falls away.  
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

He lands on something soft, lumpy, and warm.  And breathing, he realizes, as he
rolls off of Hakuba Saguru.  "Hakuba-san!  I'm so sorry, are you okay--" 
Hakuba is tucked sideways up against the wall, in a way that can't have
happened from Conan knocking him over, and he's not moving.

His eyes are open, though.

"... Hakuba-san?"

No response.  The Brit's breathing is harsh (pained? angry?) and he has two
bright spots of color in his cheeks, and he's blinking rapidly and... and
crying.

Conan stares.  But Hakuba doesn't look to be upset (other than the breathing),
he's not bothering to hide behind a hand or turned head, and the tears are
slowing even as Conan watches.  A pain reaction?  Conan did just land on him,
and...

And Hakuba's still not responding.  Or moving.

Hakuba-kun's down to two minutes flat echoes in Conan's memory, followed by, I
can't make it any stronger without endangering them andthe 'limited' part's not
working so well.  

A wave of breathless jealousy rolls over Conan.  Kid used the drug on Hakuba
and won't try it on him?

The evidence before his eyes clicks, and suddenly Conan realizes that Hakuba's
hyperventilating.  "Hey, whoa."  Conan gets a hand hovering in front of
Hakuba's mouth, the other settling firmly on Hakuba's shoulder.  "It'll wear
off soon.  Kid did this, right?  You know he doesn't hurt people."

How long is it supposed to last?  Kid hadn't mentioned that... It's probably
been long enough that no doubt Kid's already gotten the stupid ruby by now and
is playing with the Task Force in another wing of the ridiculous building,
leading them around like a litter of kittens chasing a laser pointer.  Noisy,
energetic, destructive, and completely fruitless.

He can't go chasing Kid.  Hakuba's only slowly calming under Conan's hands as
it is, what'll happen if Conan abandons him?

Conan makes himself comfortable on the floor in Hakuba's line of sight, and
pats the broad shoulder under his hand.  "Kid going to owe us for this, isn't
he, Hakuba-san?"  He sighs, and it comes out more petulant than he really
intends, but that's all good for his cover.  "He's such a spoilsport.  I
brought my soccer ball, I was going to kick him in the face with it."  A
thought occurs to Conan.  "Ne, did he take your radio?  He got mine before I
got lost in this place."

Hakuba only blinks.

"... Oh.  Right.  You can't answer.  I won't go looking for yours, though, if
you're worried about that.  You can't say it's okay to.  So I guess we're both
stuck without updates until someone finds us.  Or that stuff wears off.  I bet
he made it because you're waking up so fast with the sleep gas."  It's an easy
enough deduction to make, even without Kid having flat-out told him.

What else can he talk about?  He rests his head on his free hand, gazing at
Hakuba while his mind races.  Should he know about Hakuba's Holmes obsession? 
(Was that something Kid told him?)

If Conan wasn't watching, he'd never have seen the slight twitch of Hakuba's
mouth when his breath catches and rasps on the exhale.

"Hakuba-san?"  Conan peers closer.  "Is it wearing off?"

Another rasp.  It is wearing off.  And Hakuba's trying to say something.

"I didn't catch that, Hakuba-san."

It's weak, barely even a whisper, and nearly unintelligible to boot.  But Conan
hears it this time.  "Go... catch... bastard."  Oooooh.  Hakuba's not
frightened.  He's furious.  The Brit adds, with quickly increasing clarity,
"Left... right... left... left... Basho scroll... right."

Oh thank gods.  Directions.  Conan hops right up.  "Thank you," he replies
fervently, before bolting.

The hunt is back on.


-0-0-0


Meitantei, wtf?  If it weren't for my net you'd have broken your neck!

I found Hakuba.

... Was he hurt?  I swear I put him safely and comfortably out of the way.

No, he was fine.  Furious and hyperventilating, but fine.  The drug was wearing
off when I left.

He was okay, no one was hurt, so... something's not computing here, Meitantei.

You used that drug on him and won't on me.

It takes nearly an hour for the reply to arrive.

If it's that distracting, fine.  FINE.  I'll put you under this once.  Then we
can forget I ever told you about it, and wait for lab week to try the V again. 
8 pm.  Don't be late, I'm regretting this already.


-0-0-0


Conan's stripped, half-hard, and waiting on his bed when Kid arrives.

Kid actually, literally, pinches the bridge of his nose like Hakuba at the
sight.  "... I forgot to tell you I wasn't going to fuck you," he groans.

He isn't?  "Why not?"

Kid just levels Conan with a Look, then sighs.  "I suppose you'll be
comfortable like that, so."  He flashes a small aerosol can about the size of
an asthma inhaler, much smaller than the kind Conan's seen him carry on
heists.  "Best lie down."

As Conan does, squirming a bit to situate himself, he says quietly, "I really
do consent, you know."

Kid just shakes his head.  "You won't by the time this is done," he says, and
sprays the sweet gas into Conan's face before he can reply.

That's cheating, Conan thinks as he sinks into complete lassitude.  His
breathing evens out, going slow and shallow; the gas tastes slightly like cold
medicine and mostly like cold water, and his throat swallows at the watering in
his mouth.

He tries to twitch a finger and can't.

"Shh," Kid says before Conan realizes his breathing's picked up.  One warm hand
spreads over his bare chest.  "You're safe.  I've got you."

It's like flipping a switch.  The warmth of Kid's hand goes straight into
Conan's cock, arousal zipping up his spine, and Conan's vision flutters.

"I told you so," Kid adds, completely misreading the shiver.  "... Or are you
cold?  Could be both," he mutters, lying down next to Conan and curling around
him.  He lifts Conan's limp hand out from where it's trapped between them,
draping it across Conan's stomach, just centimeters from Conan's straining
cock.  "I really hope that's not terror, Meitantei.  I can't tell like this."

It's not terror.  It's not terror at all.

"Shh.  Shh..." Kid strokes soothingly through Conan's hair.  

It doesn't work.  Conan can only imagine the strokes drifting lower, going
where he needs them.  Kid's warmth along his side is a terrible tease,
radiating heat in ripples across Conan's body, the textured jersey of his
henley sensitizing Conan's skin as it drags ever-so-slightly back and forth
with every breath Kid takes.  He's going to go mad -- how long is the stuff
supposed to last?

Touch me touch me touch me please.

Kid fails to become psychic.  "Five more minutes or so, okay?  I gave you only
about a quarter-dose... well, half-dose for your size, really... so hold on. 
It'll be over soon."

It can't be soon enough if Kid won't touch him.  Touch his cock, his mouth,
down between his legs and inside... Conan needs to... he needs... he...

The soft moan startles Conan enough that it breaks to silence in the middle.

Kid's fingers in his hair go still.  "... Mei... Shin'ichi?"  Something changes
in his voice, surprise giving way to suspicion.  "... That didn't sound
afraid."

Conan can only blink hopefully.

Kid sighs into Conan's shoulder and sensitive neck, making Conan whimper. 
"Wishful thinking," he murmurs, much to Conan's dismay.  "Three minutes.  Try
wiggling your fingers and toes for me?"

He knows exactly what he wants to wiggle, and it's not his toes.  But Hakuba
managed to get words out first, well before the paralysis wore off... 
"fffffff"

"Shin'ichi?"  Kid's head -- mostly hair, a bit of wide, worried blue eyes -
- fills his field of vision.  "Was that...?"

"ffffffu"  Yes!  He's getting something out!  Conan's lips move minutely,
tingling slightly.  "ffffuuuck."  Please please please.  "mme."

"What?!"

The tingling's spreading quickly in a wave across Conan's face, and starting up
in his fingertips.  "Fuck me.  Please.  Please," the words are getting easier
now, whispery but clearing up fast.  "Fuck me please."

"Seriously Meitantei?"  But Kid's pulling Conan into his arms, spreading his
little legs for easier access even as he mutters incredulously.  "You really
got off on this?"

Does he really need a fourth word?  "Now."

Two fingers shove straight into Conan's soaked opening without any resistance,
bringing with them hot thick relief.  Kid's rough palm presses Conan's hard
little cock against his body, rubbing in reflexive circles as Kid works his
fingers deep inside.  The half-hard bulge behind his zippered fly settles
between Conan's cheeks, and Kid's other hand slides through the slickness on
Conan's thighs before pressing two more fingers into Conan's ass.

It takes less than a minute impaled on Kid's skilled fingers before he comes
blindingly hard, shout caught in Kid's mouth.

Kid holds him close after that, letting him catch his breath a bit before
asking, "... You really do like that drug?"

"Yeah," Conan pants.  

"Really?"

Does he need to sound that disbelieving?  "Yes, really," Conan replies.  "And
if we don't do it again soon," he thrusts against Kid's palm pointedly, humming
at the jolt of quickly-renewing pleasure, "I'm going to be deeply
disappointed."

"... If you say so."

Conan has just enough time to recognize -- and fail to protest -- the tiny
canister before Kid sprays the rest of the dose into his face.

"Well, Shin'ichi."  Kid cradles him gently for a moment, before laying him out
limp across the bed.  "I still don't really get the appeal, but I do have to
say."  His gaze runs slowly down Conan's body, lingering on Conan's wet stomach
and hardening cock.  "You really are pretty like this, too.  Can't say I prefer
it," his fingers trail from Conan's temple to his fluttering pulse, "when
you're usually so vibrant.  Electric.  I can't keep my eyes off you when you
move sometimes, you know.  The things you do on that damn skateboard... Half
the time I shoot my card gun at you just to make you dance."

Conan stares, unblinking.

Kid slides off the bed, tipping Conan's head to the side to stay in his line of
sight.  "Bet you're shocked that I'm admitting all that," he says, as he
unbuttons his jeans, red flashing behind his fingers.  He's wearing bright red
briefs, tight and silky and not hiding the shape of his erection at all.  His
hips do a little shimmy, open fly framing his cock, then he begins to rock them
to an unheard beat as he pulls his jeans down.  "Perhaps you'll figure out why
if you think about it," he adds, lifting the hem of his tight shirt to the same
slow beat.  "Later, though.  I'm very interested in distracting you completely
now."

Oh, Conan's distracted all right.  Why did Kid pick today of all days to wear
red... are those actually panties rather than briefs?  It could be either,
really.

His mouth goes dry as Kid drops the shirt entirely.  He's all abs and biceps,
hard nipples very nearly the same color as his fair skin, broad shoulders, all
warm flesh that Conan's run his hands and tongue over many times and... and
this time he can't.  He can only have whatever Kid gives him.

The jeans slither off as Kid steps close, leaning over Conan.  "We should have
considerably longer this time," he muses, slipping a finger -- still salty and
wet with Conan's fluids -- into Conan's slack mouth.  "Full dose.  What should
I do, then, hm."

Anything.  Please, anything.

"Hmmmm."  He backs away, vanishing from Conan's view.  Something rattles
hollowly, and he returns with Shin'ichi's plastic toybox.  It thumps lightly
onto the bed on Conan's far side, then Kid turns Conan onto his side (if Conan
could move he'd lick Kid's hip, it's right there with the strap of silk a
bright stripe begging to be licked) and puts a pillow lengthwise where Conan
had been laying.  Then he rolls Conan up onto said pillow, which tips Conan's
hips up and his head back so he can't see.

Kid spreads Conan's legs wide once more, then there's a pause before Kid gently
thumbs open Conan's mouth and slides his tongue in deep.  Mmm.  Yes, this is a
promising start, if a bit awkward; Kid's tongue licks sloppily over Conan's
mouth, twines wetly with his tongue, almost as if Kid's trying to elicit a
response that just isn't coming.

When he pulls away, reluctant and dropping a final wet kiss to Conan's mouth,
his fingers slip inside and leave something between Conan's back teeth.  Conan
has no idea what it is, can't investigate with his tongue, but it pushes his
mouth open wider than he realized it could get... Which is when Kid straddles
the bed above Conan's head, underwear gone, and Conan realizes what the thing's
supposed to do and why he's on the pillow like this.  With his head tipped
back, Conan's mouth makes a straight line with his throat, and Kid's clearly
planning to use it.

"You can do it, Shin'ichi," Kid says warmly, before pushing gently forward. 
The head of his cock fills Conan's mouth, hot and thick and musky, and Kid
makes a soft sound as he wriggles back-and-forth a couple of times under
Conan's tongue.  It feels distinctly odd to Conan, but intriguing enough in
theory he'll have to try it himself sometime.  Kid should be able to imitate
the passivity without needing the drug, right?

The tip of Kid's cock nudges into Conan's throat, and he gags and swallows,
eyes tearing up.  Kid backs off immediately.  By the time Conan blinks his
vision back to clear, Kid's got a fist around the shaft of his cock and is
stroking it, slow and indulgent.  "So pretty... my Shin'ichi, can barely fit
me... you love that..."

Conan shivers.  Kid's got that right, even if Conan doesn't want to give head
often.  Kid's huge in his mouth, his shaft and balls take up most of Conan's
vision... and then Kid leans forward, and a moment later his mouth covers
Conan's small cock and one of the smaller toys slips into Conan's vagina.

He can only let it happen.

He makes some stifled, half-strangled sound into Kid's cock, and nearly comes
right then and there.

Kid lifts his head.  "Easy there, Shin'ichi," he murmurs, air puffing cool over
Conan's wet cock, and the impending orgasm ebbs.  "Not til I'm in you like you
wanted, okay?"

Okay.  Conan can.  Think of something else.  Or stop thinking altogether, that
would be--

The toy in his vagina slides free, and Kid pushes it into his ass, replacing it
with the next size up before Conan can do more than gasp.  Kid begins to play
with them equally, tugging and twisting and thrusting them deeply, seemingly at
random.

Is Kid going to fuck him with a toy in his ass?

"I wonder if you even need stretched," Kid muses, a couple minutes of gentle,
maddening playing later.  "Everything's supposed to be unable to tense, after
all..."

Yes yes get in me please--

Kid slips his cock out of Conan's mouth, then removes the unknown objects from
between Conan's teeth and settles his mouth shut, careful not to catch Conan's
tongue or lips in his teeth.  He slides the head of his cock over Conan's lips,
his cheek, down the line of his throat.  "I think I'd rather be too careful
than not enough," he decides.

Nooooooo

He turns around and settles between Conan's legs, then pulls him off the pillow
and into his lap, spreading Conan's legs even wider and exposing him completely
to Kid's gaze.  The toys get switched for the next size up again, the #4 from
Conan's ass dropped out of sight and the #6 taking #5's place in his vagina.

"See, you're already as far as we usually get -- with a great deal of effort -
- and you haven't so much as winced," Kid says, working the #6 back and forth
easily.  "I know wincing's a reflex, you can't prevent it."  Conan can't decide
where to look: Kid's eyes burn, but the luridly colored #6 is pumping in
between Conan's legs at an angle where he can't not see it, and Kid's cock is
standing tall and thick and glistening behind it...  "Gods, don't look at me
like that, Shin'ichi.  I can't--"

With a shuddering groan, Kid swaps the #5 for the #6, shoves the #7 into Conan
-- the flared plastic lip catches Conan's slick opening with a spike of
sensation, then hits right up into his divided prostate with the flare of hot
sparking pleasure he needs -- and all but collapses over Conan to kiss him
deeply.

"You utter...  I can't...  You look at me like I'm everything, Shin', I--" Kid
tears away from Conan's mouth, nips at his collarbone, returns to tongue
perfectly-articulated words into Conan's throat. "I can't tell you no, even
when I should--"

The #6 pulls out, the #7 swaps in, the #8 shoves in-- Conan's gotten to the #8
at last and it feels like (triumph) when he was Shin'ichi, he's burning up
under Kid, spread around Kid, limp under Kid, helpless under Kid--

Kid shoves himself off Conan's mouth.  "You drive me mad," he whispers, before
yanking out the #8 and slamming home.

Conan keens and comes.

Unlike the last time they did this, Kid keeps going.  For all the speed of his
entry, his thrusts are more rolling his hips than anything else, rubbing deeply
inside and spiking up aftershocks just on the edge of unbearable.

"I wish I could mark you," Kid breathes hotly into Conan's hair, more a whimper
than a whisper, words torn from someplace torn open by Conan's bared trust.  "I
wish I could share you.  I wish--" he bites down, but if Conan's tongue doesn't
muffle Kid his hair certainly can't, "--I could keep you," he chokes out and
comes, spurting deep and hard inside Conan.

He scoops Conan close and shakes through the aftershocks.  "Shin'ichi...
Shin'ichi..."  Conan's hair starts going damp as Kid shudders around him.  The
cowlick in the back is soaked through by the time the tingling -- milder this
time -- begins in his lips and fingertips.

Fortunately for Conan, Kid's softening as he regains control of his body, so
even though Kid's holding him too close to slip out it's not hurting him.  The
soft weight inside is almost comforting, like Conan's holding Kid close down
there better than he can with his short, drug-clumsy arms.

He manages to flop one arm up over Kid's shoulders, and Kid's harsh breath
catches in his chest.

"Shh.  You've got me," Conan mumbles.

They're going to have to address the things Kid's said eventually.  But not
now.  Not for a long time.  Not until the Syndicate's gone and Edogawa Conan's
been cured.  Until then...

Until then, they can give each other this.

Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
