English is not my first language. Please bear with grammatical errors.

And for your information, my fic is based on the remastered version (but I watched the original version, too).

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.

What I Love About Him

Sprawling on the bed, I watch his back in the light of a bed lamp. His lean muscles move as he leans toward the edge of the bed, and I admire it. He has a good body, strong and well-toned and elegant.

I find a scratch mark on his skin and consider reaching out to caress it. The idea of running my fingertips over his skin which is slick with sweat is tempting. But before I take an action, he turns around to lie down next to me.

I quickly attach myself to his body. It's warm—or rather hot—and firm and I love hugging it. He holds me back. I press my ear to his chest. I can hear and feel his heartbeat which is still fast. I close my eyes to enjoy it more. The music of life. His life. I'd never get tired of hearing it.

But I soon feel like hearing another music he creates.

"Say something," I say, opening my eyes.

He looks at me quizzically. "Say what?"

"Anything."

I love his voice. The rich, calming sound of it. I just want to hear him talk.

"Well, then, about that new army regulation you are working on..."

I slap his chest. "Not that."

"Didn't you say 'Anything'?" he teasingly asks.

"Anything but work."

Although I like talking about work with him, I don't want to do it now. It prevents me from relaxing.

"Hmmm..."

As he thinks, his hand strokes my hair, then, the exposed skin of my back. I let out a contented sound. The amazing things his hands do to me. I love those hands so much. Holding them, being touched by them, and watching them work. They are diligent and patient, just the way he is.

I take his other hand and caress it, tracing the bones and feeling the scars and calluses. On a whim, I place my hand against it, palm to palm. His is larger, of course. I know it can't be helped, but I don't like losing. So I bite one of his long fingers, though lightly. I don't think he feels pain. He just chuckles.

"You know, sometimes you remind me of cats."

I think a little. "I prefer lion."

He gives another chuckle before holding my left hand and caressing the ring finger, where two gold rings usually sit.

"Right, my lioness." The way he says the last two words—proud, possessive, joyful, affectionate—causes a tingle in my belly.

Instead of replying in words, I kiss his chest, right over his heart. He kisses the top of my head. We fall back into a comfortable silence.

I nuzzle his body and inhale deeply. My face melts into a smile as his scent fills my nostrils. Among his body odor, there are hints of our citrus soap and the spicy cologne I gave him for his birthday several years back. Nothing smells better than this blend of the things I love. Well, short of a kebab. Oh, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. I may add curry, too, and perhaps...

I shake my head a little and try to get rid of the thought. It just makes me hungry. To distract myself, I angle my head so that I can have a better look at his face. His eyes are closed, though I know he isn't asleep for his fingers are playing with my hair.

My eyes trace the line of his face. He has a beautiful face, as many people say. Though I don't say it often. He doesn't like being called beautiful. He says he prefers "handsome." But he is more beautiful than handsome, if you ask me. He's just in denial. Although he's become more masculine than the time we met, his face is still gentle and delicate. Though I know it can be cold and hard. He is a soldier after all.

And I love both. The gentle face reminds me of his caring nature. The hard face reminds me of his firm determination to fight for what's important to him.

Oh, and I absolutely love his baffled face and flustered face. They make me want to hug him or ruffle his hair.

I move my eyes to his midnight blue hair which appears almost black now. The disheveled state of the hair makes him look sexy—sexier. The fact that I'm the one who made his hair that way brings me satisfaction.

I stretch my arm to brush a strand of hair from his cheek. "Mmmm..." he murmurs, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Although looking at his peaceful face is pleasing, it's becoming not enough. I want to talk more. I like talking with him, about anything. Silly stuff and important stuff. I love seeing his funny, teasing side and getting a look into his head. I even like arguing with him. Because it means he is honest with me. I love that he trusts me with his thoughts and emotions, with his mind and heart. Which are both brilliant. Though his mind regularly becomes like a hamster.

"If you were an animal," I start. His eyelids open and the emerald eyes focus on my eyes. They look most beautiful when we are alone. With such warmth and depth. I love gazing into them. They are a sign of his passion he usually hides under the collected demeanor. It thrills me to feel that part of him. "I wonder what it would be?" I say, then grin, partly to tease him and partly because of his eyes. "A hamster, maybe?" Hm, I wonder if there is a hamster with green eyes. It certainly would remind me of him, though its eyes couldn't be as dazzling as his.

He pulls a face. The way he lowers the corners of his lips is cute. I love it.

"It doesn't sound so appealing. And I don't think a cat—or a lion—and a hamster would make a good pair."

I laugh. "No, we wouldn't. I would probably eat you in an instant." I bring his hand to my mouth to lightly nip it again.

"I don't think I'd be delicious."

"Oh no, you are quite delicious, I say." I stroke his abs suggestively.

He raises his eyebrows. "We agreed to call it quits for tonight, didn't we?"

"Should we?" I make a pout, though I'm not serious about going another round. I think I'm too tired.

"Yes, we should. Tomorrow's a work day, and you need to rest," he says in a chastising tone.

Always a responsible man. Although it sometimes annoys me, I still like that about him. He doesn't hesitate to take on responsibilities and tries to do his best to fulfill them. I admire that. He even chose to share my responsibility as an Athha, for which I'm forever grateful.

Though he can be too responsible sometimes, trying to carry so many things on his shoulders. He is a serious person, tends to be stiff. His serious face often makes me want to tease him and make him relax. I love seeing his smiles and hearing his laughter.

I reach out a hand to scratch him under his chin. Not a sensual way, just a tickling way.

He blinks, then amusement spreads over his face. "I thought you were the cat here?"

His smile makes me smile as well. "No, I'm the lion here. So you can be a cat."

"Well, it's an improvement on hamster. And a cat and a lion would make a better pair."

"Yeah, I think cat suits you. The way cats move—especially when they hunt—reminds me of you in action." Graceful, watchful, agile. I love watching him fight. It's so fascinating, though it makes me a bit envious. I wish I could move like him. Well, I'm trying to improve my skills so that I can be a better fighter.

"Hm, maybe I should hunt something and offer it to my lady, then."

I pout. "Why do you get all the fun? That's..." A yawn escapes my lips. "...not fair."

He pulls the covers over my shoulder. "We can talk about fairness tomorrow if you like, but now, it's time for us to go to sleep." He reaches out to turn off the bed lamp.

Darkness envelops us and he returns to the previous position. I rest my head on his chest.

"Yeah, I guess it is." A part of me doesn't want to sleep yet. But it's so warm and cozy here, and my eyelids are getting heavy.

I shift, trying to find a more comfortable position. As I settle myself, his arms securely circle my body. I love being held in his arms. It always makes me feel safe.

"Good night." His hand gently pats my back.

I'm not a big fan of being taken care of, but I actually like being looked after by him. Especially at times like this. The way he treats me makes me feel as if I'm the most precious thing in this universe.

I like taking care of him as well. He is rather picky about whom he shows his vulnerability to and seeks comfort from, and it makes me feel proud that he chooses me for it. But I leave it for some other time.

I snuggle into him, hugging his torso, and close my eyes. I love sleeping in the same bed with him. Though I love waking up next to him more. I feel happy beyond words when I open my eyes and the first thing I see is him.

"I love you," I murmur. I just love him. Everything about him.

His arms squeeze me and he softly says something. I can't make it out, but I don't need to. I know what he said without actually hearing it—though I love hearing it nonetheless.

I smile and drift into a peaceful, happy sleep.

The End

Thank you for reading. If you've reviewed my fic, I thank you for that, too!