Diversion #20 - Ii kibarashi - Lost
He's asleep. Totally, deeply, blessedly asleep. After the day we"ve had, I"m not surprised. After the day we"ve had, I"m a bit... disappointed.
He's beautiful... Lying in a shaft of moonlight, his skin is luminous, almost glowing. And so soft. Smoothing my fingers lightly down his back, it feels like silk or satin. Cool, soft, absolutely unblemished. The small of his back is velvety with the fine hair there. I feel gross and clumsy touching him like this; he is so fine, in every sense of the word.
But I love touching him this way; indulging my odd desire without scrutiny. This particular point on his body calls to me in the strangest way. I love every part of him, from that glorious auburn hair right down to his toes that curl during orgasm. There is no place on his sleek body that I haven"t touched, kissed, licked, sucked, nuzzled... You get my point. But this one small area, this palm-sized area just above his tailbone... It just... sings in my head.
He shivers delicately as I brush my fingers lightly through the fine hairs, his body tensing and relaxing to the accompaniment of soft sighs. His fingers curl on the sheets and relax. He sighs again, deeply, contentedly.
I lay my arm across his back, curling myself closer against him, burying my face in that beautiful hair. He smells of earth; trees, water, the indescribable scent of growing, living things. Beneath that deliciously green scent, his natural pheromones tickle gently at my nose, coaxing me to inhale deeply. If I could have only one wish in my life, it would be to have this, and him, forever.
He has tiny little freckles on his shoulders, a bare dusting of pale copper where the sun caresses his skin. Too flowery? I suppose so. I am not a creature of romance and poetry.
And yet, I cannot help but wonder... Was my mother as besotted with her Chosen as I am with mine? Did she lie awake at night beside him, breathing in his scent, stroking his body, wondering at her fortune in having won such an ethereal creature...? Did she also feel this tightness in her chest, a cold hand about her heart, at the thought of one day losing him? Did she rejoice in his lightness against her own darkness?
Did she...? Did she die to protect him? Did she know that she had failed? Or did she die to avenge him? Had she watched her joy and her light fail? Did she... choose... to follow him?
He makes a faintly protesting sound. I have squeezed too hard, disturbing his sleep with my nightmares.
"...Mmm..." he purrs and his fingers slither against my leg. I shift my mental gears.
I don't want to waken him, but Great Dragons! I want him awake! These soft touches are not enough... Stroking his hair, his skin like this, is just making me shake with "want". Although as long as it is only "want" and not "need", I can, I will, endure. He needs his rest... He is a fragile creature, compared to me; too easily broken or damaged.
My Banshee, my angel...
He shifts, turning his face away with a sigh. Fingers brush at his bangs. I gently move his long braid to lie on the futon above his head. Running my hand lightly down his thigh, his leg twitches, moves. He murmurs my name, soft and warm.
With that murmur, I am lost. Resolve gone. "Want" has been wrestled to the ground and "need" is firmly in control. He presents himself so unconsciously, so automatically... And I am weak enough and enthralled enough to give in with barely a thought.
Before I have time to wonder at my own impetuosity, I am hearing the *real* magic words...
"Harder!"
"Deeper!"
"More!"
And my absolute favorites...
"Heero! Yes! Yes! *God, Heero*!"
He is thrashing wildly beneath me, hair somehow freed from the confines of that braid and flying everywhere, fingers digging painfully into my arms, my thighs; gasping, howling, shrieking his orgasm to the entire Clanhold. Carrying me with him; throwing us both off that endless precipice...
He is beautiful.
He is magnificent.
He is... perfect.
And we have made a terrible mess of the only bed.
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