The bed made no sound as the two lovers shifted on it. A thin white sheet just barely covered their waists, unable to keep a grip on the thrusting hips and raised legs that continued to pull the hips forward. A whimper came from the man laying upon the bed, his dark skin, a masterpiece of muscle and scars, was covered in a glistening layer of sweat. His ink-black hair shuddered with each breathe he took. The redhead riding him continued to move at his slow pace, despite the fact that his uke lover was actually quite stronger than himself and was trying to force him deeper. One hand, covered in its own scars from hard days of training, reached up and brushed some of the wild blood-like locks away from the left side of his face to trace the kanji symbol there, the only scar that the red-head had on his body. The red-head continued to stare into the dark, round eyes beneath him, even as he moved into the contact, jade colored eyes slitting slightly as that simple touch brought him so much more pleasure.
Beneath him, his lover gasped as he made a sudden movement, giving in for only a moment, to the bidding of his dark-haired lover, before returning to his slow pace. His hands, so unlike the ones that belonged to his hard-working lover, gripped the pillow as well as the hand that wasn't caressing his face. He continued to watch as his lover moaned and quaked. His breathing shaky. It wouldn't last much longer, They both knew it. He continued to keep his movements slow. Even as his hand, the one that had been gripping the pillow to the left of his lover's head, moved to circle the weeping shaft that rested between their bodies before gripping it. The action managed to get another cry out of his scarred lover, The dark, dark eyes widening impossibly as he bucked into the contact he had brought them in.
His lover's hand continued to remain near the kanji symbol scarred onto his face. Finally, both were so close to falling off the edge into completion. His dark-skinned lover stared straight into his eyes, chest huffing as he attempted to speak. The one above him strained to concentrate, so difficult with his lover's pleasure binding in with his own, dragging them both away from awareness.
"G-Gaaraaa" His uke lover whimpered as he tried to keep eye contact. Pleasure burning away every thought and only leaving behind sensation. Another moment went by as he fought the orgasm off tooth and nail. He had stopped the hand working on his lover to try and pay attention. So difficult to do.
Finally, just as he was about to cum, his dark-skinned lover acquired the look of determination that characterized him. Again, his lover placed his hand, albeit a bit carefully, against the scar. In a low voice full of love and belief he said three words, right before he screamed with the pleasure/pain of falling off that cliff of 'humanity' to rest in 'not quite sure I'm alive anymore'.
As they laid there panting, Gaara having slid to rest against his lover's side, he continued to think over what had been said. His lover did not open his eyes after cumming. He merely reached over to grasp Gaara's hand again, then fell asleep. Gaara continued to watch him. Those words danced through his mind, as startling as when he had been brought back to life to see just how many people cared about him. Yet, none of them had ever said what his lover had just said to him.
A pale, long fingered hand, not the one gripped by his lover, gently tapped against the scar his sand had carved into his forehead all those years ago. He had done it as a reminder to love only himself, not because he had ever again believed someone could love a monster that even his own family had forsaken. Then, those three words danced in his mind, in the wonderfully childish voice of his lover: 'you are loved'. Said as if he were speaking to a god, the love and awe in that statement had told Gaara just who loved him. The hand that was free left the scar to trace the lips of the man so trustingly sleeping against him. For the first time that night, Gaara spoke, when no one could hear his words. lowering himself till his lips were level with his lover's ear, he whispered to him.
"You are loved as well...Lee." He whispered his lover's name, his chest tight with the emotion of love. He could have sworn before the taijutsu master muscled his way into his life that love was only a word and not something that he could ever give. Yet, like all things, Rock Lee proved it wrong with a power of will that made Lee Lee, and Gaara would have it no other way.
Continuing to watch this one being that had dared to dare, he hoped that his words had reached Lee in his dreams. He was sure, though, that Lee knew he held the great kazekage's heart in his hands. Just as Gaara now knew that the heart that belonged to this fiery willed man rested in his own...