Hey guys,
thanks for stopping by.

So, this is my first try to post something in English (since I´m german!). I´m still not a hundred percent happy about it - so I would really like to know what you think about it. If there´s someone who wanna be my beta and correct some of my mistakes (especially grammar and tense) I would love it! Please let me know and don´t be shy to correct me.

Now, have fun reading.

Love, dm.

Pots were rattling under my hands, my hands whip up here and there along and a knife chased over boards. Only the salad I saved yet, I wanted to make right before dinner. My thoughts continued, came from one topic to the next. I couldnt have told about what exactly, if someone had ask me. However, the central point was not anything, strictly speaking, a person who is far from unimportant. My head reconsidered conversations with you again, and sometimes I wished I had said something else to be able to change the course. And sometimes - actually more common than I would ever admit to myself – I could see desired conversations almost alive in front of me. Often they ended up that we were much closer at the end than at the beginning.
But in those moments in which we are having this conversation "live", I'm too proud to, would not even allow such thoughts, as I had now. How would you call something like that? Foolish? Or even cowardly? Was I so? Didnt I dare to? Or did I not wanted to drop my pride – always eager to urgently get my outer façade upright? Quietly, I sighed to myself. What if some of our conversations, some actions have been different between us? Would I be right here at this moment, like now? What would you do? Would this situation be different? Would it be so hard every time to force me in conversations, to look you in the eye? And then, if I had done it once – would it be just as hard to rid myself of this view? Would my knees be shaky, if you looked at me? And would I flutter every time we, if only by chance, touched us?

All these questions drove me mad ... They filled me with a seething discontent, a nervousness, like a burn, a few inches below my heart. A flaming star, and my innermost hoped he would bring light into the darkness between us. This 'what if?' bothered me, when usually I would be so unerringly... Or did I always just semmed to be so?

I had yet to admit that I longed for him to sink into his eyes, and to give in my knees to weigh me in his safe arms, leaning against his chest, inhale deeply his pleasant smell. I almost felt his breath on my skin.
I was a little dizzy, I held a moment firmly at the bar and tried to get rid of these annoying thoughts. Even if I had succeeded, a sad emptiness would have gaped in my thoughts.
"Are you all right ?!" If I had not previously held me frantically on the countertop, then I would have done it by now. I shrinked, stumbled two or three steps backwards till I came to a halt with my elbows on the table and dropped the knife on the cold kitchen tiles. Of course I knew that voice. I would have recognised it among thousands. And yet ... couldnt believe it until I actually saw Shuichi sitting at the table next to me, speaking fluent sarcasm as always. I recovered slowly from the shock, my breathing turned back to the normal level, but my knees and hands were still shaking as I slowly and carefully bent down to pick up the knife. I was very careful to straighten up slowly, my cycle did not seem to be working well today.
In the meantime my thoughts were again with him. I hoped he had not noticed that I had to fight hard with my physical, and mental capacity, hoping that he did not discover my weakness.
Wait, I scolded myself. It didnt interested him how I felt. He had only once made that all too clear. And yet I saw him now slightly puzzled. This time I discovered something else in his eyes ...
But that couldnt be ... Was there actually a trace of concern in his eyes?
He seemed to have noticed my curiosity, a smile playing around his lips. I couldnt interpret it correctly. It seemed to be sincere, and yet .. Somehow also confident of victory... ...
I forced myself to turn back to my work. With still trembling hands I could just rinse the lettuce head, turned my back on him and tried now to put the knife as still as possible, so I wouldnt cut myself.
I sensed his presence more than I would have recorded it with eyes. Likewise his eyes, his breath on my pale skin. And a small, hopeless romantic part of me was praying that this closeness wasnt only physically - and would remain. His right arm clasped me almost like in an embrace – or not, his hand touched my trembling hand, in which I held the knife, gently but firmly. I didnt acutally lean onto him, but it might be just a hair's breadth between him and my back. In his self-assured way, oh how I hated it when I was so confused, he didnt seem to mind.
When I actually noticed a hint of hesitation, there was no time to feel satisfaction: The short hesitation - whether from considering if he should dare it or simply out of what was most meaningful – wasnt enough. He put his arm only somewhat vague, but then in a nonchalance putting it on my waist, as if it wasnt for the first time. I felt his hand directly at the level of my last rib, his fingers could almost play with my pelvic bone. Three minutes ago I would have liked just that ... now I was a little overwhelmed.
Suddenly I felt a shiver pushing trough my body, as if my circle was about to refuse its service. Or was it just my head that made my knees so weak... I was about to give in to my desire to lean back. Still, I was on my own, although supported, as if he were my support, but the desire to hand over a part of my weight to him grew bigger any second. Only with difficulty I was able to stop myself.
Part of the problem broke up shortly afterwards ... not by itself, but from him. His strong arm slung a little tighter around me, which meant that my state was still unstable. But now there was no way to move anymore. Again I felt his breath, he brushed my cheek, followed shortly by his one, his invisible stubble left a tingle on my skin.
"Why so insecure?", there was this unmistakable sarcasm again – he almost sounded amused, but something in his tone, something deep, paranormal, reached me by leaving me shiver.

Like a switch inside of me something turned and I decided to finally give him an answer - though perhaps somewhat unsatisfactory. His voice echoed in my head. "Do you think that something like this can be explained by simple words?" I could have sworn, later much more appropriate things would have occurred to me, but for the moment I thought I wasnt bad at all. Even if he would be surprised – he didnt show any reaction. As usual, he retained full control - over himself, about the situation, and increasingly about me. However the less and less in me resisted and tried to escape it.
"Do you have to explain anything?", even the smallest hair on my neck stood on his throaty sound, between purr and growl of a big cat, it sounded like a seductive growl. Even though I was almost motionless, my nerves were stretched to breaking point.
I was thinking about answering, but something in me decided against it, after which I was only giving one neither affirmative nor negative sound from me. Meanhwile my eyes were only half open, although they were following the ongoing events.
He pulled me close to him, his body snuggled gently dominating on my back, on the left of my spine I could now and then feel the pounding of his heart. It seemed being the holder of a lot of energy.
Always keen to ensure that the knife, which was still being held by two hands, did not come to close too us with its cold blade, he pressed both his and my right arm gently to me. With anybody else I would have felt harassed, constrained and detained. All I felt through my heart race and my throbbing pulse next to tension was security.
Only my left arm was free, I moved it to his face to gently brush my finger over his cheek, his hair, until I took the courage to stop and turned his head with little pressure to me. To turn his head the last piece which he had left me. Despite his steady control he wanted probably neither to assault me nor move to something that I might regret later. What would he get from forced affection?
And yet ... Maybe he was thinking "forced", I did not feel, however, the situation as a force, not as I would only do him a favor, no ... Honestly I had to admit that although I was surprised – in a positive way – I was overjoyed. Suddenly I was torn from my thoughts, had no chance to worry about why I was happy, accepting that it was so – thats why I was able to enjoy the moment. Now he had decided that it was enough of the silence and deeds should follow. His lips found their way down my cheek, lingered a moment, as fascinated at its angles, which formed the pits, of which I knew he liked her, until his mouth found mine. There was a slightly bitter taste on his lips, and I like it. The first tentatively touches became less and less timid. His beautiful eyes were closed, just like mine. I turned my face to him, until we sank into a long, sweet kiss.