Disclaimer:: I do not own any of the TRC characters. Any others, yeah, I kinda do.
Author's note:: There are sexual scenes in this story. Actually, a lot. Frankly, there's not much of a plot other than that. So, if you're uncomfortable, please don't read. No one is making you. Thanks.
Syaoran pressed himself further into the bed, cursing. He flipped himself over, glanced down and cursed some more.
'Shitfuckshitfuck,' he thought as he sat up in bed, glancing over quickly to the girl in bed next to him. Thankfully, his movements had not woken her, and she slept as soundly as before.
He threw the covers off him quickly, slipping out of the bed onto the hard floor. He pressed his foot down lightly; making sure the wooden floorboards beneath him wouldn't buckle into a long 'squeeek'. After a moment, testing the floor a few more times, he got up and walked three steps over to the only other piece of furniture in the room, a small chair that faced the bed.
'Kami,' he thought as he sat down, grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it in his lap. Wanting to keep himself occupied he looked out the window, praying for a cool breeze to come in, knowing it would not. As he sat, he tried to think of anything, and started to reflect on the day.
'Why does this world have to be so hot?' The dunes where visible from the hotel window. Dunes that they would be crossing in a train tomorrow. They looked so calm and peaceful now, with nothing, no wind, no animals, to disturb them.
They landed in this latest dimension only two days ago. It would never cease to amaze him how different and unique each land and culture was from one another. This dimension, this land, was entirely dessert, much like Clow, but to a greater extreme.
Wars, famine, drought, all were factors in making up the harsh people that lived and tended to the sand dunes. In short, the people did not live very long, and if they did, it wasn't without great cost. Zazooma, the landowner and hotel manager was proof of the price. At the very old age of 54, he was the patriarch of his family, with 4 children and 7 grandchildren. His wife, Mahimi, had died years ago during her last childbirth.
Such a rarity in this land were people, and especially four healthy humans, all old enough for work and bearing children, that when Syaoran and the others suddenly appeared, it was almost cause for celebration. Sakura and Syaoran were quickly assumed to be a normal couple, while Kurogane and Fai were looked upon as 'life-watchers', another word for guardians.
This was what led them to their current situation. Throughout the evening meal, Zazooma and his family made many pointed references to Syaoran and Sakura, whom they assumed was a young couple returning from their religious quest before the marriage with family in the next town. Syaoran did not come up with the story. It took the mind of Fai to quickly understand the culture and come up with the appropriate story that wouldn't be suspicious.
"We thank you greatly for your kindness," Fai said, right before the dinner ended. "Had you not helped us, we would have had to spend another night out in the desert."
"Don't mention it," Zazooma laughed kindly, "My home is home to my family, and to any other family," he looked down at Sakura's stomach, which made Sakura blush red. "There are so few of us around. My woman, Mahimi, always told me, 'you, you help the younger ones, ay? They don't know what they are doing.'"He laughed, pounding his fist on the table and making the food bounce.
Kurogane grinned and Fai laughed loudly as well. It was all part of the act. "Well, tomorrow, in return for you kindness, we shall help with the chores of the home."
"Yes, yes, all that in time. After all, we have desert time here!" He laughed again, and Syaoran had to assume this was some odd sort of joke.
"Well, my good, good friends. It is late; the dunes wait in the morning."
However, it was what awaited Syaoran that night that scared him the most. When Zazooma led them to their rooms, he was astonished when Syaoran left Sakura alone.
"What kind of husband are you?" he said accusingly, "Leaving your woman in a room by herself. Mark my words; should a sting-bat come tonight and kill her, you will be cursed!"
Not knowing what a sting-bat was, nor wanting to find out, Syaoran quickly made up a story about leaving for just a second to relieve himself of his bowels.
"Nay, a good husband you are yet to be!" Zazooma bent down to Syaoran's ear and whispered, "Ay, I know the reason. You don't have to worry." He nodded his head understandingly.
Worry about what?
"I was worried at first, too, when I got married. What if I my back isn't strong enough to carry her? What if my legs are weak? What if I don't have a boy?"
Syaoran blushed deep red and wanted more than anything to run, run away from the room, away from the hotel, away from these crazy people.
"...er...uh..." were the only sounds that came out of his mouth.
"Ay, you still have some time. Don't worry, boy-al. Good blessings be with you!" Zazooma thumped him twice on his back then left him.
And before long, it was only him and Sakura in the room together. They were standing on either side of the bed, both refusing to look at the other.
"Well, I guess we should get some sleep..."Sakura murmured. Her head was bowed, looking at the dress she wore.
"Yes, we should." Syaoran's mouth felt as though he had been forced to eat cotton. His throat felt as though an apple was lodged inside.
This wouldn't be so hard, he thought, had it not been for the comments during supper, or for the outfits they had to wear to sleep in.
Given the heat, all the night garments made good use of thin, light fabric and nonconforming shapes. Sakura slipped on a simple night dress that exposed her neckline in such a way that Syaoran was sure Touya would kill him for looking at her. Even given its simplicity, Sakura still managed to look amazing well, her lithe body apparent despite how large the dress was.
His night clothing was less pretty, more practical than anything: simple pants, a very thin sleeveless shirt. His arms and chest felt oddly exposed as he was given too large clothing.
They eventually did get into the bed, blew out the light and Sakura then processed to fall asleep.
However, Syaoran was not as fortunate.
Given the conversations of the night, her nightdress, and her physical body sleeping next to him, it was no wonder that Syaoran's mind turned on him that night, against his wishes.
He felt himself first get aroused when she happened to brush her arm aside his in the middle of sleep. Her perfume wafted over, tickling the hairs on the inside of his nose.
What made him finally snap and get out of the bed away from her, he decided, was the way she moved in her sleep.
She would toss and turn, moving her arms and legs, breathing heavily one second and softly the next. The sheet that started out tucked underneath her chin had been moved down her chest as she struggled with her dreams, exposing her neckline. The way the dress and sheet conformed to her sleeping body showed the curves of her sides, how her thighs looked, how thin and strong she was.
Syaoran returned to the present and looked down at the pillow in his lap, realizing how he was holding it to himself.
He tried desperately to think of anything else, of something disgusting and stupid to get himself back to normal. He tried thinking of dogs throwing up, of crude and senseless jokes about death, of Touya beating his ass for even looking--
Her soft sounds, a mixture of moaning and nonsense, muffled in the dark. He glanced over at her.
Oh, Kami, why, why must I be like this?
It was right then Syaoran wanted nothing more than to place his body next to hers, to press up against her and feel what she felt like. Would she be soft? Would everywhere he touched be warm or, if he dared think of it, wet? How about smooth? What would be smooth and---
Stop that! Stop that! Stop that! Dear kami, sweet kind Kami, please, stop me from doing this. I have no right. I am not her husband. I am her servant. Her friend. I am her subordinate--
Her mouth opened slightly, and Syaoran was drawn to her thin lips. Her tongue, red and thick, what would that feel like? He wondered if she had ever kissed anyone. Not to his knowledge, she hadn't, but then again, what did he know? After all, there were many functions at the palace, with many princes from all over. Who did she kiss? What did she kiss like?
In his fantasies, he had always imagined her to be timid at first, only to truly reveal her self later when she felt more confident. She would press up to meet him, taking that red tongue out of her mouth and swirling it around in his mouth. She would use her lips and mouth to suck on his neck, while running her hands and fingers down his chest and around his back.
He would always try to respect her, but she would try to coax him to do this and that to her. She would take his hands and put them on her chest, never saying a word, but speaking with her eyes. And when he moved his hands, grabbing at her legs, tickling her skin with his fingers, she would smile and kiss him deeply, never closing her eyes.
Syaoran closed his eyes, losing himself in his mind.
What would happen then? Oh, yes, he would make her lean her head back, exposing her neck and collarbone. He would suck her ear then move down her neck, pausing right above her pulse, before licking and kissing the skin along her shoulders. He would blow cold air onto the spots still wet with his saliva.
If there were any clothing on her at this point, he would take his time to slide it off her, undoing the straps, taking the material barely between his fingers and pulling slightly downward. She would then say he was too slow, and pull the rest off herself, just to have his hands on her again. Her breasts would feel soft and warm underneath his rough hands. "That feels good," she would breathe in his ear as he began to massage her chest. After a while, she would gently put her hands onto his head and guide him downward.
Ah and there would be glory for him! To take his hot mouth and place it over her nipple, making her wiggle and squirm underneath him, telling him more, more, harder, harder. She would wrap herself around him, arching her back towards him, letting him do with her what he wants.
At this point, he would take control. His need would rage, cry out for him to take her fully. He would press his mouth harder, almost biting down, licking and sucking harder. The rest of her torso would be open and ready for him. He would not waste time to move quickly and conquer the whole time Sakura's hands at the back of his head, massaging his scalp, grabbing and tugging his hair when he did something she especially liked.
His hands would wander down her body, pressing it to him, making her feel his arousal. Her whole body would now be conformed up against his, shaking and quivering with heat and desire.
After a few moments, Sakura would pull his mouth to hers once more, just to feel his lips molded with hers. She would moan in the kiss, running her hands down his abdomen, teasing him. Their eyes would be open as they kissed, and he could plainly see the thoughts within her as her hand neared the front of his pants. The wicked demons that drove her wildness, her sexuality, would be dancing with delight in her eyes. And she would be dancing with them, drowning in the overwhelming pleasures she felt.
She would grab him through his clothing, yes! She would press the palm of her hand down and use her fingers on him. He would have to stop his ministrations for just a heartbeat as she did this, before he would kiss her with power, dominating her mouth.
The first time, this first time, would be his. He would be in control, and she knew that. Pleasure cursed through his veins, pounding his head. His muscles in his chest and thighs would tense. Preparing, preparing...
He moved her hand away from him, lowering her down on the surface as he took away the rest of her clothing. He would glance up; watch her chest heave up and down as she watched him just as intently, the demons dancing faster and faster within her eyes. He would move back up to her, kissing her forcefully without meaning to. But she would understand this; she would understand his great need.
Dance, Demons! Dance within her eyes, faster and faster you go, dance, dance, dance!
He would touch her then; she would be wet and hot. Almost ready. She would arch her back again, groaning, moaning, holding one hand to her chest, the other gripping Syaoran's shoulder. He would touch her, moving his fingers slowly around before lowering his mouth to her, kissing her. That would drive her insane. Her thighs would tighten and hold him as he kissed her gently, swirling his tongue around her opening carefully, taking his time. Now her hips would move on their own accord, rocking to a fro. She would want more, but her hips would move spastically, uncontrollably.
"Please, please, Syaoran...more...I'm almost..." she would be mumbling, pleading with him..Almost..."
The last of his garments would be removed just breaths before he would press his loins roughly up against hers. He would move his hips, feeling the pleasure, and groan. Then he would look down at her, one final time. There would be no words.
He would pause to take one breath, and then thrust himself into his manhood. A sharp cry would escape her lips, the demons in her eyes no longer dancing, but swarming over one another, spinning around and around.
More, more, he would want more. His breath would become haggard as he pushed himself to his limits. The blood would be a loud roar in his ears. He would be pumping, thrusting, pushing, pushing, pushing.
Harder, stronger, yes, yes. Dance demons, dance, dance! DANCE!
The heat from down within him, inside his very soul, exploded! Everything happened at once; the tension within his arms, legs, and chest released the pent-up energy then became relaxed. His left hand that he clenched the arm rest with, its knuckles white from the pressure, slowly uncurled itself until it lay limp in his lap. At the last second of explosion, he threw his head back, throwing the sweat from his brows and above his lip into the air, small sparkles of water danced above until they came back down into his hair.
His breath was ragged, his right hand resting at the base of his shaft, barely able to move. Syaoran looked down at himself, exhausted from the heat, from his thoughts, from everything that plagued his mind in this room.
It had been painful tonight. He couldn't quite remember the last time he had masturbated. A few days, a week? Had it been this painful before? He couldn't remember. Nothing came after a few more seconds of silent thought.
"Fuck" he thought, reached for a piece of cloth to clean himself up with. He glanced over at Sakura, wishing more than ever before that her deep sleep was as faithful as ever. Thankfully, her eyes were still closed, and her chest moved up and down at a slow, steady rhythm.
Her chest...
No, no, stop that.
He put the cloth down, double checked the chair around him, than changed into fresh, clean pants. After making sure that there was nothing left of his activities that night, Syaoran slowly climbed back into the bed, truly tired now.
With sleep only a few seconds away, Syaoran reached over for Sakura's hand, kissed the back of her hand and then her slim fingers. His lips touched her hand with the utmost reverence, a graceful gentleman quality that only he possessed. By doing this, he was trying to erase the unclean memory of her lips and her breasts and her words that he had fantasized that night. By kissing her hand like that of a servant, barely gracing his mouth over her middle and ring fingers, he hoped this action would remind himself of his position, but most important, remind him of her position.
"Forgive me," he thought, "...forgive me...forgive me...,"
Author's note: Alright, I know that this is a cheesy love story, with all the one-dimensional characters, the oversimplication, and the stuffy romance one could ever want in a single place. But then again, this fic wasn't meant to be much of anything. I hope you can overlook all this and give me a kind word or two. Thanks