Disclaimer: Kazuki Takahashi owns Yugioh. I'm just using his characters for a while.
Based on ep 120. The characters are different in that episode. It's like they've grown up. It makes me both happy and sad. I'm one of those people who equates a lot of things to songs, so this is also inspired by the song Glycerine by Bush though nothing about the song is in here.
Also, the sex is very implied.
The taste was beautiful. He couldn't describe it accurately. It must have been the euphoria he had.
He felt like he was fading in and out of a dream, but this, this was reality. Not the made up kind, not the kind others forced on him.
It was real.
The other rose and sank like the water beneath them, undulating forever in flawless inconsistency.
At first he had thought he might be clumsy at this sort of thing. He had no experience at all.
Yet, tearing all aggression aside, it felt like he was falling into a sacred practice that he had done before. It was strange to sink into to this feeling, to let himself go, but it was the rush of the moment. He allowed himself that.
The smell of musk permeated his nostrils and, with his eyes closed, he could have sworn he felt the warmth of the sun beating on his bare back.
But no. He opened them and found white sheets and artificial lights bearing down on them. It was night outside, its darkness a time for lovers.
He focused his gaze and thoughts on dyed hair and pale skin and intense purple eyes. The other breathed hard, his need for air making his chest all the more sweat drenched.
It was like dew, he realized, this act replenishing the other with water just as the night did to the earth.
He imagined the night laying herself down upon the earth every time the sun set. An infinite length of time to prove your love.
The thought made his heart ache for reasons he did not know. Everything's great, isn't it?
No, there was something missing indefinitely.
Strong gasps from the other snapped him out of his deviations. It was different to hear those cries. The whole feeling was something different.
It wasn't like winning a battle, so there was nothing that he could equate it to. Winning was something he knew too well, raw pride and passion surging inside him. It was raw and passionate but his pride had been discarded with his clothes, with his feelings, with his confessions of wanting something more. There was no pride here. There was no need for pride here.
The dyed hair had become disheveled. He moved his hand in it. He had always been curious.
To his surprise it was soft, but not delicately so. It still had its natural sheen, he thought. It was incredible in its design, in its composure, even on a sweat soaked scalp.
But also.
It was funny. Funny funny hair. He laughed. The kind of infectious laughter that invaded every part of him and shook and squeezed his insides until they were numb.
"What on earth are you laughing about?" Said the other, his breathing in elongated gasps. His chest moved up and down, heavy with sweat and pressure.
Pressure that was building up in more than just laughter.
"It's impossible. Your hair is impossible, yet even in the past it was the same. How is that? It's impossible." He said in fits of laughter. His eyes must have been giggling.
"Are you going to insult me now?" Came the other's not quite arrogant voice.
He didn't answer. He didn't feel like answering. He felt his consciousness slip in and out like the tide, only to be replaced by a new ocean, a new person concealing the older one. One that was melting away.
Melting like certain dreams, certain desires, but that didn't matter now.
He rocked back and forth. The mood had changed. The atmosphere wasn't ticklish anymore. Tickle it and you might get punched.
His focus was serious. It felt like everything he did; he did it with perfection.
Like writing an apology letter; like truly meaning it. (Though, he could not, for the life of him remember if he had ever written an apology letter).
The other grabbed at the sheets with short, sharp gasps. His eyes were starting to tear.
He evened out. He moved not too fast at all.
"Anzu might be jealous. I think she likes me." It was sudden. In the mix of the other's cloudiness.
Tickle and get punched.
He slapped the other.
"You're right. This is between you and me."
Rocking like sailboat on the a bottomless ocean he finally reached his peak. It wasn't as glorious as he had thought it would be, but it gave him a deeper meaning of calm than he had ever known before.
The kind of calm he relished after the storm was over.
The one beneath him moaned and soon joined him. Together they floated on clouds back down to earth. The salty smell of sweat was like an ocean breeze welcoming them home.
But home was very far away for both of them, separated by distance andtime.
Time, too, was making him older. Was killing the rawness in himself and replacing it with a calm he did not know, which he could not stop.
But this calm...
It wasn't the eye of the hurricane- that kind of pseudo respite. It was the true end of the emotions that fell like rain, the desires that pounded like thunder.
Where had those feelings gone, the instinct for survival? The viciousness of anger? The sting of solitude? They would no longer crash like lightning in his surmounting heart. They had dispensed into the air like a cool summer drizzle. The time had come to be in the calm.
This was growing up. It must have been.
The other rolled into a more comfortable position, facing him with his vivid eyes and that smile. The one that he always won with.
"You do this the same way you play, with passion." His purple eyes were fiery.
"Passion without a point." He would never let the other compliment him with words.
The other sighed, his chest looked shiny in the light. "I'm sure you'll find other victories." It was said with a happy sadness, a bittersweet taste.
"What do you mean by that?" He said, discarding his sarcasm, but not quite showing concern.
But that was all. The other was asleep.