Hello.
So, this is just a small PruAus drabble done in half an hour, sorry about the mistakes! Hope it's alright ^^
I never realised I would be here. That my breaking point was so…
"Go away, Gilbert, I am starting to lose my patience." I turn my head up from the pages of the leather bound book I had my eyes set on to instead look at the face of the man looming over my hunched form.
"Starting?" He croons back at me with an arched brow, lips taunting me with a devilish smirk, matching the way his eyes glint with mischief. I can see the point of his canines behind his pale lips that have twisted at the side. I notice the white-silver strand that has gotten caught on his barely there eyelashes. My fingers twitch on the aged pages of the book I was studying.
"Yes. Now hold still, that hair is annoying me."
"What hair?" He questions back, confused.
"Just hold still, I didn't ask for a response." I sigh. I raise my hand gently to his face. I can see him flinch back a little; thinking I was going to flick his forehead or something for his usually idiocy. Instead, I hook my forefinger around that one hair that has become caught and brush it away back into his fringe. His breath hitches in his throat and his eyes study my face. He hasn't taken a breath since I raised my hand. My fingers hold their place hovering just by his cheekbones, an inch away from his pale skin. I can see the question in his eyes as he watches me. I move my hand back down to my lap. He takes his first breath.
And I realise I haven't been breathing either.
It takes a patient person to get to somewhere many people don't suspect they wish to be. And I never thought I would be here. But when the time finally comes, it all seems to go right. I knew I wanted it. Though I knew I shouldn't have wanted it. I knew that this would have happened soon. But I didn't stop it.
"Oi, Specs, what're you doing?" My eyes shoot open. I'm facing the window that covers most of my wall. The curtains are drawn with a small slit allowing the glow of the moon to just dust what is in my room. I can see the outlines of the decorative pillows on the window seat; I can make out the shape of my glasses on the bedside table. Most of all, I can see the silhouette of a man reflected on the dark plum curtains. Gilbert.
"Trying to sleep. The word being trying." I huff. I pull my light top sheet over my head. I close my eyes again and hope for once he gets the message. I can feel my toes and hands grow heavy from where I am slowly tumbling into the great black plains of sleep. My mind settles and I forget about the man in the doorway. Instead I lull myself into oblivion with notes of soft music. I can sense the air around me moving as I breathe softly and my body curls into a c shape. My sleep shirt hitches up to expose my waist, just above where my patchy boxers are.
"Do you mind if I join?" Just like that, I am pulled from my drowsy experience. I feel weight shift behind my back as another weight joins me on my bed. The top sheet I had coated myself with gets pulled in the opposite direction to where I am gripping it in half tense fingers.
"Yes, I do! You are really trying my patience this week, Gilbert." All I hear in response is a giggle, the edges slurring. He's been out drinking. A hot finger touches the small of my back and I visibly shiver at the change of temperature. My eyes squeeze shut and I hold my breath, hoping he will leave. Instead I receive his whole hand on my exposed skin as he slides it slowly over my slim waistline over to my stomach. He leaves a trail of burning, tingling heat – and I have no idea if I like it or not. Snapped out of my sleepy daze, my senses are on high alert. I can feel his breath at the back of my neck and the smell of beer wafts from his side of my bed to me. I wrinkle my nose. I turn over, the top sheet acting like a tent over our heads.
"You reek of beer – get out of my bed! Why aren't you at Toni's or Francis' house?" I mutter angrily. Once again, I don't get a proper response, just a childish giggle. I open my eyes cautiously. I gasp when I see red pupils directly opposite my face. I didn't expect him to be this close. I can feel his breath hit my lips now. His cheeks flushed scarlet with alcohol and that same taunting grin plastered across his face. I roll my eyes and pull the sheet back in my direction as I go to turn around again. The hand on my back becomes stiff and won't let me turn round. My eyes widen as I stare at the Prussian besides me. His breathing is fast, excited. My heartbeat picks up into a flustered hum. I open my mouth to tell him to move but his eyes stop me. He's searching my eyes for something. He searches my face for the same thing; his hands try to search for it as his fingers gently caress the skin on my back.
"What are you looking for, Gilbert?"
I get my first proper answer of the night. It comes in the form of a hurried breath. His lips just grazing my own: so close I can taste the beers of the night he's had. I freeze and my whole body tenses. His eyes moving so cautiously over the expression on my face. So patiently for me to adjust to what he says to me.
"A sign for me to kiss you."
Sometimes, you don't realise that you are testing another person's patience, but in a very different way to how they test you. Some people have to wait and wait before you give them a sign that makes them snap. Everyone has limits that can be breached by one subtle thing. Whether it is the small, affirming breath that means "kiss me" from a man that you have been tested by all these, or whether it is that same cocky grin that they always have but with something that slight bit different. I could see in his eyes for a long time that my attitude to him was undesirable and that he wanted something else. But I never suspected this.
His lips move to my neck. My own lips are left feeling bruised and sore but so despairingly bare. They remain parted in hope that they will be claimed yet again. But their conqueror has moved to different terrain. He brushed his lips teasingly down my neck, seeing how much I can take before I snap. But I remain patient. He won't make me break yet. His hands follow the curves of my torso; the dip in my back, the cinching of my waist, the flatness of my stomach. I remain relatively still below him. His warmth spreads across my cold skin like wildfire, leaving me hot under the figurative collar. I whimper, though it surprises me that I make such a submissive sound. It earns a low, predatory chuckle from the German that presses his body onto mine from above. His lips settle into the curve of my neck that connects it to my shoulders. This is where he decides to leave his mark. He latches onto me, his tongue working as he sucks at my skin. His teeth nip ever so slightly. I can feel the suction, the wet warmth and the sharpness all in one. I moan willingly as my back arches a centimetre from my rich purple bed sheets, my fingers curling up in his silver locks as I give myself up to him. But not completely: I remain patient in concern to his constant teasing, begging is not my style.
I had found my breaking point not in the way I had expected. The person who tested me so became my reward as soon as I broke at his doing. It was the same for him; I made him snap and I turned into his reward. Though we had clawed at each other's patience and riled one another up to a point where we broke; we found we fit together. Knowing each other's breaking points revealed a more personal side to one another. We learnt a lot about each other in one night.
"Gilbert!" The bed creaks and groans below us as he pushes me back into the head board, one of my legs pulled over his shoulder. His fingers hold onto my calf to keep it up there as his hips keep up the rhythm he had found. My whole body moves atop of the sheets and I let out a low groan. Our bodies are hot now though the coldness of the night keeps trying to push through the heat of my bedroom. I am looking in the direction of the window but I am not entirely seeing. My lips stay parted as I snap at him to kiss me again. My patience has broken and I am desperate. Though it is unbecoming, I feel like I need it. His lips crash against mine and our tongues meet in a clash of dominance. My hands paw at his back trying to find someplace to grip onto him but my fingertips are just met by the sheet of sweat that has grown on his body as well as mine. My hips roll to move against his so we move in a rough, dirty harmony. I know he is not completely sober. But the word stop didn't register in my vocabulary. Instead, I had begged him for more. Once I regain my patience, I know I will regret begging him and deny it. For now though, my self control has left as he makes desperate love to me and I moan his name out in a more guttural manner than I would like.
He knows how to make me snap, how to make me break through my usually well-kept self-control. I was told how I tested his patience. By never giving him the opportunity to kiss me because I was too busy tutting at him or "being a priss" as he called it. I merely rolled my eyes at him and told him to shut up; which according to him is a prime example. He knows how to tease me and mock me and rile me up in ways others cannot. But I can do the same to him. So now it will just be up to how we use the tension between us. We will bicker and argue but that tension will just grow. I have a feeling we will be doing this a lot more often.
I lie on his chest, worn out yet satisfied. His hand runs up and down my back gently, soothingly. I enjoy the rhythmic thumping of his heart, I enjoy the soft sound of him breathing.
"Hey, Roddy?"
"What?"
"You're really damn annoying. But it's kind of a turn on."
"Shut up, Gilbert." It goes silent for a moment and I hope I haven't just aroused him again.
"…Roddy?"
I sigh. "What now?"
"Can we do this again?"
"..Mmh."
"Roddy?"
"Oh for- What?!"
"Do you want to go out with me tomorrow?"
I pause. Everything stops. A minute passes of just us breathing but a smile settles upon my lips.
"Yes. Now shut up, you're really testing my patience again."