Title: Delirious
Author: Thursday Saint Giles
Rating: R
Pairing: D/Leon
Summary: Post-manga (though with no real spoilers), D and Leon take a picnic.
He can smell the sun. It's an absurd thought, he knows. Hell, if he wasn't so completely content where he was, and so lazy, he might snort at the thought. But it's true. These days, waking to a room open to the outdoors, Leon can tell in one deep breath what the weather is like. Heat has a sort of sweet, musky scent, overlaid with the jasmine and lilac from the plants right outside the bedroom doors.
They've taken a picnic far from the temple and the monks, beyond the forest to a field of high grass and wildflowers that stretches into forever. Leon likes to lie back on the blanket and stare up at the sky. It's so blue, but a soft colour that's pleasing to the eye and the sun is bright, but not blinding. On days when there's not a cloud in the sky, like today, Leon feels like he's on the edge of the world, and he could just step into forever, and it's sorta terrifying. Ah, the urge to snort again. He honestly doesn't know where he comes up with this shit.
"What are you thinking?" D murmured.
Leon doesn't answer right away. He's learned that things like that aren't important. They have all of eternity to talk, to discover, to learn. So instead of saying anything, Leon arches up a little and D takes the hint and leans down, and they're kissing. The touch of D's lips to his own still makes a thrill of heat run through Leon. He's aware of so much in that moment. The soil beneath him, the heat of the sun on his exposed flesh, and that D smells like the grass—sweet, damp and earthy—and tastes like the tea they had earlier.
D's kisses are like nothing Leon has ever experienced; he's always eager to kiss or be kissed, not like the women Leon has known before, whose passion always ran out, who often times turned their heads away from kisses. Whether light and fleeting or deep and possessive, D's kisses always let Leon know he is wanted, needed, and desperately.
Like this kiss. D's lips are soft and the pressure of them over Leon's mouth is light and inconsistent, teasing. He moves so slowly, like they have all the time in the world (Leon sighs…they do), like every moment is precious (…each is). Never before could a touch so light elicit such responses from Leon. But sometimes all he needs is D to look in his direction and Leon's gasping with need.
Then in a fluid motion D shifts his body so he's straddling Leon and deepens the kiss all at once. What was seconds before slow and lazy and simply lovely is now hard and demanding and heart-achingly perfect. D plays Leon, and Leon knows this and doesn't mind. D's teeth bite at Leon's lips; D's tongue is playful, coaxing, insistent by turns, tickling the roof of Leon's mouth, drawing Leon's tongue into D's own mouth. D's hands are never idle—he never seems to be able to touch Leon enough, not that Leon would ever complain about such a thing. D's hands are in Leon's hair; under his shirt; tickling, teasing, enticing. Leon got over being embarrassed by the sounds he makes the first time he learned D's reaction to them.
Leon always gives as good as he gets. He likes his hands on D's hips, feeling the sharp pelvic bone in the palm of his hand almost as much as he likes grabbing ahold of D's ass, squeezing just right to earn a gasp against his lips. Sometimes D's kisses are so breathtaking that it's all Leon can do to keep up, and sometimes he just has to let D have his way. But D can be hot-blooded seductress one moment and as coy as a new bride the next, giving Leon ample opportunity for his own exploration of D's mouth. Leon's not yet sure if D does this purposely, or if there is some real shyness beneath D's experienced, all-knowing exterior. And oddly, he doesn't mind not knowing. It doesn't hurt for D to keep some of his mystery.
Where it matters, Leon knows everything. The different sounds D will make when Leon kisses different body parts with different intensity. He's catalogued the expressions of pleasure, pain, desire, lust and yes, love and can now read plainly that once unreadable face. When he thinks back on a time that he was too thick to see what was right in front of him, he can't believe he's come so far. He knows how incredibly lucky he is. He knows this isn't his second chance—more like his eleventh.
But he also knows, as he rolls D beneath him, that this is the only one he needs. He looks down at D, whose soft smile says that he knows just what Leon is thinking. Leon won't mess it up this time. He simply can't. He's no longer capable of it. Somewhere in searching for D, he found himself, too. He knows what he wants, knows what he feels, and knows how precious and rare it is that he's found love with someone like D.
D reaches up, threading Leon's hair around his fingers and pulls down, but Leon resists, smirking a little, and unable to look away from D's swollen lips. D makes a sound of disappointment and need. "Are we going to do this right here?" Leon asks, teasing. D frowns his disapproval and growls, lunging up for another kiss. Leon pulls back a bit more, delighting in the wild, lost look in D's eyes.
Always clever, D changes tactics at once, falling back into the high grass, eyes going soft, lips parting just a little. "Leon," He gasps. And that's all it takes.
"You're such a fucking tease," Leon mutters against D's pulse. His fingers tug at the frog, wanting more skin bared to his lips as quickly as possible. As many times as he's done this, he still has trouble with it, still wishes he could just tear the fabric apart rather than fuss with difficult closures.
"It isn't teasing if I plan to follow through," D murmurs just above a whisper, and his fingers, only shaking slightly, replace Leon's and undo the first three frogs with relative ease, parting the neck as he goes. Leon chases D's hand with his teeth, dragging with just enough pressure to sting and D hisses. "Harder," he murmurs, so Leon bites down as hard as he dares (which never seems to be hard enough for D, no matter how fragile he may look) at the hollow of D's throat and feels D's hips thrust up in response. Long sharp nails drag down Leon's back, leaving burning welts in their wake, and Leon can't help but grind his groin into D's, making them both gasp.
Then D is pulling at the hem of Leon's shirt and Leon leans back enough to let it be lifted over his head and tossed aside. D's top follows seconds later, and then Leon is rolled beneath D again, back onto the blanket. D's skin is so pale in the sunlight, but he never burns, never even tans the slightest, no matter how much time they spend outdoors (which is a lot). His skin is incredibly soft beneath Leon's fingers, against Leon's chest. D's fingers are excited and impatient as they unfasten Leon's pants. Leon lifts his hips eagerly, desperately, closing the space between them for another kiss, fighting blindly to divest D of his leggings.
Once, Leon didn't particularly care for the summer. He didn't like the heat, or the bugs, or the way the grass made his skin all itchy. He doesn't know when that changed, but he blames D, and the way he writhes against Leon, bare skin slicked with sweat, hair in wild disarray. Leon has to taste every inch, has to explore places no one else will ever see—the flat of D's stomach where it dips in a little above his belly button, the sensitive skin behind D's knee that makes him giggle, the curve of D's delicate feet—all ridiculously smooth and soft and sweet tasting. Eating D is to Leon what eating sweets is to D.
Sometimes Leon takes things fast, and sometimes D slows them down, but its always intense, pleasure as brilliant as the sun. It's always almost too much for Leon to bear, when he slides inside D, or when D takes Leon in his mouth, or when D takes Leon completely, but so carefully, so tenderly, each thrust a benediction, each kiss a prayer. Leon forgot to be impatient months ago, and now he drinks in every moment, every sensation, anticipates every touch.
D sighs into another kiss, and Leon feels utterly content, in every way, like he never imagined he could be, especially not in the arms of a man, and D, besides. D's in control for now, D is the one touching and exploring, and Leon lays back and enjoys it, waiting for his turn. D knows every spot that drives Leon crazy with desire, and leaves Leon shivering and dizzy. His teeth nibble along the shell of Leon's ear, his fingers skate along Leon's inner thighs, his hair drags teasingly down Leon's chest, each fraction of a second a new world of sensation, each movement demanding Leon's adoration. Leon gladly gives it. He arches into D's body, bends for D's will, at his insistence.
This is what it is, to be complete. To fill the void that he hadn't known he'd possessed. Leon had always enjoyed sex, but now, what he knows with D goes beyond that. When he finds D's heavy, hard heat and his touch causes the slightest hitch in D's breathing…when D's nails give the lightest pressure to the underside of Leon's erection…when it's at the point where Leon doesn't know if he's in pleasure or pain, in those moments, and thousands more, he knows what sex is meant to be, and he knows why he never experienced it before D.
Again, and again, D takes Leon to the brink, then snatches him back without completion, until Leon is panting and desperate, but for what, he's never quite sure, only that it involves D. And then D twists out of their embrace and raises himself enticingly on his hands and knees and gazes at Leon over his shoulder. The picture he makes is more erotic, more alluring, more beautiful than anything Leon could have ever found in a magazine, could have imagined on his own. D is too precious to be imagined, with his eyes bright with ecstasy, like jewels in the sunlight, his lips parted seductively, his back curved just so, and his legs spread invitingly. No one could resist such a sight, and Leon wouldn't even want to try.
Sliding into D, who is slick and tight and hot, is most delicious sensation Leon has ever known, perhaps only second to being kissed by D. Sitting down for tea, years ago, Leon would have never imagined D as a sexual being—he'd been too prim and proper and reserved. Leon knows it is a privilege to see the other side of D, the private D, whose ardour is implacable, who enjoys his sexuality, and in giving and receiving pleasure.
They move together like it's been choreographed, or like they can read each other's minds. Leon wouldn't be surprised if D can. It would explain how he knows just when to tighten his muscles around Leon's erection, or how he shifts his hips just right. And Leon can always tell when he's discovered D's special spot, because D arches his back and begins to keen in the back of his throat. D is not a quiet lover, and that delights Leon to no end. Hearing D sigh and gasp and scream is almost as exciting as touching and tasting and feeling him.
Sometimes, they can last for hours that seem like days, descending into delirious pleasure, losing themselves in one another, in kisses, embraces and blood. But there's something about being in the outdoors, so close to nature and all the things Leon attributes to D, that makes him need desperately to claim D for his own, and D is fighting him.
The sensation, the pleasure, builds too quickly, too fiercely, D's skin too warm, the glare of the sunlight on D's pale back is too bright. So Leon closes his eyes and reaches around D to grip D's cock in his hand and squeeze just how he knows D likes it. D screams his name, pumping into Leon's hand and back onto Leon's cock, over and over, until they're both coming, and the light inside Leon's head more brilliant than the sun outside.
Leon licks every trace of D's passion from his stomach, and D's muscles quiver under the touch, his hand in Leon's hair, his eyes full of affection as they regard Leon from under lazy lids. They lie spooned together, both too content to move or even speak. D's stomach under Leon's hand is damp and soft—he holds Leon's arms around him as though he'll never let go. Leon wants to tell D his thoughts, but they're too abstract to voice, so instead, he lets the silence stretch between them comfortably, until words are easy. He talks about the sky and forever, and the impermanence of the things around them, in contrast to their own permanence. The concept of his own immortality still frightens him.
Then D turns over in Leon's arms to look up in Leon's eyes. His face his very serious, but he gives Leon the tiniest smile full of promise. "My love for you, Leon, is eternal. That is all you need know, and be reassured."
He wants to take ahold of this moment and live in it with D, always. But he trusts D, more than he trusts himself, and releases it, lets it flutter away on the breeze and believes D's promise, and knows it to be true. He knows there will be millions of moments just like this one to come, painful in their perfection. And then he does snort at himself.
"What?" D asks, a suspicious lilt to his voice.
"I really need to get out of here," Leon confides. "I think this place is driving me crazy." He's tried really hard to be content here, in the middle of nowhere, and sometimes, it's quite easy. But Leon is an extrovert, and needs to closer to civilisation.
D's smile grows larger, and he nods, ducks his head to hide a giggle in Leon's chest. "I was wondering how long it would take," He admits, and places a kiss over Leon's sternum. "We'll go to Japan…Grandfather says Tokyo is lovely this time of year. And I've been thinking of taking over the pet shop there…"
Leon smirks, wondering what Sofu D will say when Leon arrives along with D. He decides its something to look forward to. He settles down again, fingers tracing Chinese characters for love, eternity, and unity over D's back. D's breath is slow and even on Leon's chest, his touch gentle but reassuring on Leon's shoulders and sides. He lets himself be lulled into a light slumber, still aware of the sounds of the insects and the wind through the grass, and in the distance, the ringing of bells from the temple, and of D's heart beating solidly against Leon's chest.