I don't own Bakumatsu Kikansetsu Irohanihoheto... nor do I own a Soutetsu-slave...
sigh...
Warning: shounen-ai, yaoi... Hiji/Sou
-----
To be honest, I've been struggling with writer's block lately... hopefully this short... drabblet will help jump start the trickling creative juices. I know this type of pairing makes no sense... but - I'm just... giving into my desires here...
Forgive and review if you like it!
-----
Fighting Till the End
His lips - his mouth tasted faintly of green tea... and under my fingers, his long black hair ran smoothly down like a river. It was odd, this. This meeting of something no one can name. Could name.
One moment, my tongue swept over his, curving around, taking in his entire taste, my nose bumping his, smelling a faint scent of...
Ink.
Ink, yes. There was some on his finger, I thought rather idly as he drew back, his teeth nibbling at my bottom lip.
He'd been writing. Perhaps a play? Or a letter? Nothing personal - there was nothing personal about that man. His eyes were unfathomable - as if he came from nowhere and was going nowhere...
No, I could see him writing up a plot and then demolishing in the small brazier on his bed stand...
Or...
I leaned forward again to take possession of his mouth. Unsuccessfully. He won the second round, and I smiled at his whispered, "Eggs again, Hijitaka-san?"
"So formal," I muttered, trying to push him down onto his back. "And what's wrong with eggs... Or does the author in you demand something... more romantic?"
I got a grunt for that. But what it meant... cynicism? Or... something else... Never mind.
Distraction is the key.
I returned to our rather casual foreplay, pushing away thoughts of wonderment.
Why the hell are we here? Why am I on this boat?
And even more mysteriously...
Why am I pressing my lips against this - this - his occupation of writer doesn't even begin to cover it...
My hands wander - not to his gaping kimono, or his sash... no... his hands, which are gripping my shoulders, ready to push me away - or push me under. It's alarming how in control he wants to be.
You are a fighter - an author of your own destiny.
I smile as his eyes - narrow - his teeth clash hard against mine in reponse to the sudden weight of my hand, pinning his wrists to the pillow behind him.
Sou-kun...
His quiet snarl - as I lean forward to gently run my tongue over his rock hard nipple - excites my senses. Perhaps, then, signing up for this mission hadn't been so foolhardy... If nothing else... there is always... this...
I will take you - Sou-kun...
Don't dissappoint me.