I found this on my computer this morning and decided to hurry and finish it. The title's bad and the ending's worse, but I'm way too high on pain meds to care right now. XD
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, angst, fluff, OOCness. Y'know, the usual.
I hear the lock on the door click behind me, and I blush because I know what's coming next. But still I continue to down at the ivory keys under my fingers, playing idly, waiting in shamed anticipation as I listen to your footsteps moving towards me. Your hands enfold my small shoulders, and I tense without meaning to. Not a word passes between us, none ever do, but still I understand as you urge me to my feet, leading me towards the bed. When we reach the edge of the mattress you turn around. My heart speeds up. You take my face in both your hands, closing the gap between us until we are only centimeters apart, our lips tingling as we breathe in the other's scent. Then you bring our mouths together in a soft, tender kiss, and you snake your tongue up to dance with mine, your hands moving to tangle in my hair. I drape my arms about your neck, hating the way I melt against you, hating myself for loving this, for loving you, so much.
All thought rushes out of my head as you begin to unbutton my clothes, one complicated clasp at a time. You only smirk when I moan at you to hurry, and my face begins to burn again at the wanton statement. The self-control I've spent years perfecting has suddenly been thrown out the window; all it took was one touch of your hands. Both our upper clothing is lying on the floor now, and I don't even have the decency to try and push you away when you begin to work off my trousers. All I do is pull your face back up to mine for a hungry kiss, tugging off your rawhide gloves as the rest of my clothing slides down. Vulnerable, utterly exposed, and wanting with an almost shameful need, I close my eyes and surrender.
Strong hands guide me backwards onto the bed, and my eyes flicker open again. I can't help but flush when I see the dark lust pooling in your face as you kneel above me. I blush harder when I feel the jolt it sends down my spine, contributing to the fire coiling in my belly, and the way you chuckle as you spread my legs apart. My eyes close again, more resolutely this time. My head thrashes from side to side on the pillow, my entire body writhing.
No, no, no, no, no!
I try to deny the excitement I feel as a hand comes to rest beside my entrance, the delight that shivers through me as the fingers slip inside and my body tenses – not in pain, but in anticipation. My hips buck up unbidden.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…
My vision bleeds white suddenly, and you hurry to cover my mouth with your own as I cry out in ecstasy, thrashing now for a different reason. I can hear you snickering at my candid actions, and the soft rumble echoes through my chest and raises gooseflesh on my bare skin. You take your fingers out against my whimpered protest before leaning forward to touch your lips against my ear.
"Are you ready?" you whisper, and I nod, breathless. "Are you sure?"
"Yes…." I murmur, burying my head in the crook of your shoulder. "Yes, I'm sure."
You slide your arms around me, locking them behind my back to hold my body closer to yours. I feel the tip of your arousal brush against me, and I whimper into your neck. What is wrong with me? I… I am… eager. I should not be eager! I should be terrified, mortified even. I should push you away and call you some appalling name while I cover my indecency with the sheets at the bottom of the bed… but yet my limbs won't follow my reason's command. I should, but I don't. I can't.
What is wrong with me?
The familiar panic begins to well up in my throat as you push inside, a bizarre mixture of pleasure and shame that comes out as a soft, strangled whimper. You mistake the sound for a sign of pain and you tighten your grip on me, rocking my body gently in a way that sends waves of gratification through my veins. I moan your name faintly, moving my hands back up to tangle in your hair.
"Shh," is all you say. "Shh, I'm not moving yet, it's okay. Relax, mon amour, it's alright. You're alright." There it is again, that damn name I taught you ages ago and that you have called me ever since. The intimate words make me tense for a moment, enough to make you groan and tell me to relax again. I open my eyes to see out under the fringe of lashes, and I can make out your eyes looking back at me. The breath hitches in my throat, and some part of me wants to struggle harder as the realization comes crashing down of just what exactly is going on. Your aquamarine eyes are darkened with lust, but they are soft and worried nonetheless, and I feel you shifting, dragging me onto your lap. You reach one hand up to thread through my hair while the other holds me still in a vain attempt to ease the pain you think you're causing. I give a dry sob and let my head fall back onto your shoulder, but you tug me gently back up so I am forced to look at you. "Do you want to stop?" you ask, and I can tell you really don't want to – but I know you would if I said yes.
"N-no…" I mumble back, and tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I feel you moving inside me just a little. I love you, I want you, but I can't forget who and what we are. I can't forget how wrong, how sinful this is, and with every breath you take I am reminded further. I know you want to move, I know it must be hurting you to stay so still, but I beg you in a broken whisper to hold on just a minute more. In answer your lips press against both my eyes, licking away salty tears I hadn't realized I was crying. Then you kiss my nose and forehead, rubbing the palm of your hand across my shoulder blades.
"I can wait."
I take a deep breath, shuddering just a little and trying to will my body to loosen. You understand and move me back off your lap, laying my body out across the bed. I wrap my legs around your waist to pull you deeper, and as you groan I take the opportunity to slip my tongue inside your mouth. I feel you smile against me. I sigh and pull away, looking up at you, and you look back down at me.
"All right," I say finally, rolling my head back to expose my throat. You take the hint and nip down my throat as you rock your hips forward just a little, earning a shaky moan from me. You stop and pull away again.
"Are you okay?" you ask, taking my earlobe between your teeth.
"Yes… unh!" You move out and then push back in a little harder until I moan again and throw my arms around you, drawing you closer to me. I pant your name in your ear, mewling softly as your movements speed up, and I feel you kissing me all over, over my face and neck and chest, everywhere your lips can reach. The sensations overwhelm me as the light behind my eyes bleeds white again, and suddenly I can't get close enough to you. I tighten my grip on you and lean up to run my tongue across your scarred face, biting your neck and collar bone, bucking against you just to feel your body next to mine.
"Fuh-Fugue!" I whimper, writhing under you, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes as the pressure in my belly tightens, coiling until it's almost unbearable. You groan in answer, pushing in harder, letting any rhythm we had slip away. You're the only thing I see now, the only thing I feel, and although I know there's a world outside I don't even care. I want you deeper in me, and I say as much without even meaning to; I only realize I had verbalized the thought when I hear you chuckle. You slide your hands down under me to place a coarse palm against the small of my back, arching my hips upward. A particularly rough thrust tears a half-scream from my throat, and you have to throw your mouth across mine to steal the sound before we wake the others. The tears escape and flow freely down my face, but I won't let you move away long enough to wipe them for me. Instead I keep one hand on the back of your neck and the other tangled up in your silver hair, pressing my wet cheek up against yours as I shut my eyes and cling to you. My body doesn't even touch the bed any longer. I feel you put an arm up across my back and tense the muscles around me, protecting me from whatever I thought I have to fear; I don't even remember anymore.
You whisper my name once, very softly, and finally I let go. The emotions and sensations overwhelm me, take me under, and I give in. My mind is wiped blank until all I see is white, my whole body immersed in quivering ecstasy, and for a moment I even forget you are there. It isn't until I feel your seed coating my insides that I find you again in the whiteness and I hold you closer to me, my other half, my better half. I whisper that in your ear – my love, my darling, you are my better half. In answer you kiss my shoulder and we collapse backwards down onto the bed again, meshed together.
As the warmth, the glow, starts to fade, I feel the shame creeping back in on ink-blotted feet, staining the pale euphoria with uncertainty. I close my eyes again as the hard edges of the world begin to reemerge, and when you start to move away I grab your hips desperately. I don't want to go back; I don't want to open my eyes because I know what comes next. You will kiss me, and whisper goodbye, and then you'll walk away. And then you'll leave me again, alone, to lie in the dark and sink under the weight of my own humiliation. I'll be left here tangled in the dirtied sheets, crying into the pillow, wishing you were here next to me so I wouldn't have to face this by myself.
I can feel your eyes on me, curious, maybe even skeptical, the way you always are when you encounter something you don't understand, and I offer just one word in explanation:
"Stay."
So you do, and I can imagine your face as you lie down on top of me again, settling yourself carefully as though worried you'll crush me if you move too fast. I can't open my eyes to be sure, though. I'm afraid of what I might see. Instead I pull your lips down to mine and kiss you very softly. You don't return the gesture.
"Frederic," you whisper, tracing the side of my face with one finger, "why are you crying?" I shake my head. "Look at me." I open my eyes just a little and then let them flutter closed again, shaking my head harder. "Mon amour, look at me." You cup my cheek, rubbing away the tears with your thumb before bringing our mouths together. When you finally break away I do open my eyes, slowly, my arms still draped around you, trying to reassure myself that you are still here. "Sweetheart, what's the matter? Why are you crying?"
"P-please don't leave…" I mumble, hiding my face in the crook of your neck. "Please don't leave."
"Baby, no, I'm not going anywhere." Even as you say the words you make to pull away again, and this time I don't try to stop you.
"Frederic…"
I turn my face away. "It's okay," I say, but the words are forced. "I know you have to go." We're not supposed to be here and we are both painfully aware of the fact. If anyone ever found out, I don't know what would happen; I am, as they say, sleeping with the enemy. The war is over. Waltz is gone. Love is still forbidden.
"I'm not leaving," you whisper, stretching out beside me and pulling me up into your arms. "Mon amour, I'll stay if you want me to stay."
I cannot bring myself to push you off although I know I should, so I just shake my head and press my face into the crook between your neck and shoulder, feeling fresh tears slide down. I don't know what will happen when they find us here in the morning. There will be yelling and screaming and someone's bloodshed, I'm sure, but I don't know what they will say. Will they kill us? For being traitors? Will they give us a chance to share our side of the story, or will they demand we leave and never come back because we are in love and we refuse to continue hiding it?
I am terrified... I love them, too. But I cannot face this, this world, by myself any longer, and the way you wrap your arms around my waist feels right in a way nothing ever has before. It hurts being away from you, it hurts when you leave me in this too-big bed all alone with the heat of your body gone. I love you, and I want you here with me more than I want them. Years of living with the Andantino rebels could not compete with eight months in your arms.
You caress the space at the very bottom of my spine, rubbing the tiny nubs of bone with the tips of your fingers. "It'll be okay, Mon amour. It'll be okay." And I believe it.