Leather Gloves
Pairings: Divine/Aki, Yusei/Aki
Summary: Aki says, you haven't lived till Divine does that to you. But don't ever try, she'll sick her dragon on you. You'd die happy, but dead is dead. (Still worth it.)
A quote for Divine: "And it will remind you, no matter how pleasant I seem, really, I have teeth."
From: "They Fly at Ciron" by Samual Delany
.
Before... he used to touch her like that. His protective hands engulfed in soft black leather. Always a caress. His fingers curled on her cheek, petting her in a silent praise, a calming gesture. They would dance across her skin, making her tremble with that promising sensation and the familiar scent of leather.
Long, elegant fingers stroked down her throat, causing a gasp, then up her neck where tiny hairs stood at attention. They traveled further, into her hair, feeling her, testing, kneading her sensitive skin. She always tried to be silent, to just watch, to wait, but she never managed. Instead his name would escape her lips, sometimes just a whisper, sometimes a begging whimper.
Then his hand would grab her hair firmly in order to pull her head back. It was painful and made her moan with embarrassing delight, her eyes closed, cheeks flaming red. She wanted more. All she said was his name. Always, always his name. It was a plea, a promise, one word with a thousand meanings.
His gloves were never a barrier, they enhanced everything. While his right was buried in her pink streaks his left traced her lips and her tongue went out to meet his fingers without a conscious thought on her part. She loved the taste of that smooth leather. Bitter and alive and Divine.
It wasn't love. How could such a simple concept as love describe the feeling that rushed through her body like lightning and took her mind captive like a spell when his leather-clothed fingers withdrew from her mouth, wet with her saliva, and he kissed them. Her. Nothing could ever compare to this.
It took no words nor further touch to bring her. Her head was spinning, she felt faint. He did that to her. A smirk, and arms encircling her with affection.
*
Back then she never thought she'd come to miss it. Everything. It was so ever present, so natural, she never even wasted a thought on the possibility that it might not be for ever. But now...
It is different now. She asks him to keep the gloves on and he does. Without asking her why even, because he never pries. He is gentle, his hands nimble and kind. Inexperienced, but they know just how to touch her without hurting.
She wants it to hurt. That, however, she doesn't tell him.
The whole feeling is... something else. 'Different' doesn't even begin to cover it. He is attentive, observant, far more so than people give him credit for. He notices what she likes, what annoys her, but he doesn't know what to do with that information.
She's not a machine. It's broken, you fix it. It's out of synch, you tune it. Lost parts are easily replaced. But what she's lost cannot be replaced and what he has is really just the next best thing and doesn't quite fit. He knows it, too, but tries anyway.
His gloves feel rough against her skin. Worn from hard work and a life that wasn't always as kind as their owner. Dark brown leather. His hands feel good like that, on her hands and arms and shoulders, and on her breasts. They smell all wrong though, like oil and metal.
He stops touching her face soon, because he realizes it is not what she wants. But she knows she will learn to love that scent, too, like her love for him grows, because there is nothing else in her anymore that is bigger, or more significant, than love.
It used to be there, but it all gone now, so she clings to that new body that isn't right, with those gloves that aren't what she wants, and he lets her have it. Maybe Yusei is only now learning to love as well, for lack of something else.