We Still Burn
By Kay
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. It's sad. It's a crime. But one day... YOU'LL SEE _MY_ NAME ON THE DIGIMON COMPANY!!! Bwahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaa!!! ^_^
Notes: Um... Kensuke! Which means yaoi! ::sweatdrops:: Pure babble. Yes, folks, pure babble. It's frightening. Anyway- this is R... because it takes place in the bed, but there's no sex involved. You can imagine to your hearts content, but I can't write that. ^_^ So.. enjoy! Don't hurt me!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You're staring hard into my eyes again.
I can just barely make out the intense emotions in the shimmering candle light, the faint glowing flicker that emmits from our bedside table. It's here that I pause in my actions, gazing back down into your intent look, my own face frozen in some contemplation you don't bother to stop. You only look back, look back with soft breaths from that gorgeous mouth of yours, waiting patiently for what you know will eventually come. Another sweet kiss.
You seem to live off my kisses, almost like a sweetened sugur that brings your mind and soul screaming in pleasure. (Something I'm really proud of, actually.) Every time you seem so overwhelmed by the force with which I crush my mouth to yours in possession, eagerly taking what I deem to be my own. My lovely, lovely fire.
And so, in this break, I take the time to study you as usual. I suppose most people would call it arrogant admiration of my "prize", my gift I had recieved through my own hard work and perseverance. But it's not that, any mortal idiot could tell who's been in love. I look down at you, my amai, with a great fondness and passion that I can't seem to stop burning in my veins. It's merged with my wine blood, the blood I so vaguely depended on, so that now I'm sure I could never live without your grace. And it's here that I look for you, to see your faithful assurance that you'll always be the one here with me, beneath my face as I study you in our dimly lit bedroom.
Years have gone by, haven't they? You and I have done many things, both of importance and of foolishness, and everything has been locked in my timeless memory like photographs that will last my entire life. You're laughter, always loud but always sweet in it's honesty, and especially your smiles, the constant dared ones and the rare kind that would light your face up like a sunrise. (And I have always compared you with the sun, my amai, I think you know that!) It's those things I remember the most, and treasure as though the most precious riches I've owned no matter my wealth.
And through all those years, one thing has truly remained a constant in my life. You.
I'm still searching your naive, patient face. The light's so weak in this room, and it doesn't help the window curtains have been closed by the bed, so your face isn't outlined in the moonlight like usual. It's such a cool night, being winter and all, and I don't want you to catch cold. (Which is why the necessity the window be closed, of course.) Yet, although I don't have adequate lighting in our apartment bedroom, I can still make out the dark features of your face in the light.
Mm. There's your dark eyebrows, lifted slightly with amusement as you watch me watch you. Your simple, almost pixie nose at times, that tends to sneeze whenever you clean out the attic in the summer. The way your smile slowly comes on with a wayward blush of embarrassment at my scrunity, even though I do this often to your innocent soul. It's with that sweet, naive blush that I feel my heart melt again for the thousandth time, and I sweep a lock of your soft burgandy, cinnamon hair back from your face where it'd fallen. (Here, to my pleasure, your blush deepens.)
It's these things that make me laugh at you, sometimes. You're so beautiful, my amai, in candle light and sunlight- both don't do your adorable face and spirit justice. Although I love everything about you, especially the way your slender body seems molded so that it fits into mine perfectly as though melted into me, warm and small and your arms tightly wound around my neck... your whispers always tickling my ears... when you run your slight hands up and down my spine, making me shiver...
And... I have gotten off track, I'm afraid.
What was I saying before you started toying with me, again? Oh, don't do that, love, let me look at you a moment before- yes, that's right. Lay down again, against the startling white of the pillow that contrasts with your intensely dark skin. You're watching me again, letting me look, and that's just how I've always loved it.
Despite I love the way you breath and talk, and just about everything, I'll blindly admit... it has to be your eyes that catch me so often. Those haunting, yet so brimming with life eyes. Always sharp and mixed with a dozen different emotions and delights, every sorrow caught like a tiger in a cage within those eyes. They tease me whenever you do, and even when you don't. Especially the unique colours, the deep chocolate, rich as oak and spring earth. Shinging eyes that brim with darkness and light at the same time. They captured me, caught me in a teasing lasso, and slowly drew me into this fate.
I wanted to be drawn. I always wanted to be drawn, my amai.
And here, looking into your eyes, I see all the love you have for *me.* As horribly odd as it sounds, even with my bloody conscience that screams at me every night with despairing dreams, you still burn only for one person: Me. You burn so brightly you chase away the laughing, taunting demons, scolding them with scorched flickers of flame, and shove them away with your heat. (You're so brilliantly radiant when you're my hero, my amai. It's one of the things I love about you.) Heat's always been your strong suit.
You were the one, when we first met in a strange youthful way of enemy and leader, who first melted my ice with that heat. I was cold, a dark and frigid crystal of black snow and dark indigo eyes that flashed hate every chance they had. It must have taken incredible compassion and love to try so hard, day after day, to bring me back to where there was no snow and ice. Where you lived, in a blinding sun, where the summer nights weren't cold and lonely, but filled with soft promises and gentle night breezes outside in the dark. I remember feeling so amazed at the world. The one you took me into to.
The one you've kept me in for seven years.
I spent all of those years living off of you, drinking your beauty and stubborn courage up like a forbidden beverage I hadn't been able to taste for centuries. Slowly, the world made so much more sense, and not to mention became so much more tolerable. Together we've woven a life out of our few broken fights and our many wonderful moments. I wouldn't take those back to rule any world, no matter how easy it would be to do so.
You've been my light since the day I saw you. And I suspect when I die, you'll be the only thing in my mind. (Although I'm not sure whether I hope to be in the afterlife before or after you- which is better? To live without your love, or to know I'm leaving you behind to the wolves?) Because I would leave you to the wolves- the people who don't care enough to hold you when you're sobbing at night. That's my job, anyway, and it makes me growl thinking of anyone else in your embrace.
Jealousy is a green eyed monster which doth mocks the meat it feeds upon. Othello. Strange how I don't feel like a green eyed monster when I think of someone else with you- like that blond idiot, Takeru. My skin burns whenever he smiles at you. He's had a crush on you forever, love, even though I'd never tell you that. We and Takeru, the blond and I, have had an understanding that you will never see our silent competing for you in the background.
Thankfully, he could never have you. Although you look at him in a way that makes you smile and light up brightly, flashing confident grins, you don't love him. You might have been able to once, but that was before you met me. Before you tasted the night and knew you were so addicted you couldn't leave it be where it was bound and chained in submission for you.
I will always be yours.
You're starting to get impatient, as always, my amai. Slowly brushing with slender, teasing fingers at my face, running through my hair like it's silk strands. Nuzzling into my chest like an affection kitten- hiding your face, but the comfort I get from the gesture is enough that I don't protest. I've seen enough any, enough to satisfy me that you're as happy as possible.
My amai, you're happiness means everything, and even as I'm holding you, I swear I'll never let anything else be more important. We're in college now, and moving on to bigger things, but no matter the job or the money involved, you will still be my precious possession. The possession that possesses my heart, that is.
My amai. I love you.
My hands brush over your face again, lifting it, and I melt us into a passionate kiss that rockets our desires to the top. I know from the moment I grip your sides and hold you close to me, my heart beating wildly, that you love me as well. Even so, you tend to whisper it every night. (Something I find heartwarming, although not necessary.)
"I love you, Ken-chan..."
Your murmers are like water gliding through the candle's flame. A contradiction and a melody to sweet to exist.
"I love you, too, my Daisuke."
I smile against your lips, and meet your own again in a challenge. The bedside candle still flickers on, casting our shadows against the bedroom wall as we embrace in our love.
And we still burn, my amai.
We still burn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Kay
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. It's sad. It's a crime. But one day... YOU'LL SEE _MY_ NAME ON THE DIGIMON COMPANY!!! Bwahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaa!!! ^_^
Notes: Um... Kensuke! Which means yaoi! ::sweatdrops:: Pure babble. Yes, folks, pure babble. It's frightening. Anyway- this is R... because it takes place in the bed, but there's no sex involved. You can imagine to your hearts content, but I can't write that. ^_^ So.. enjoy! Don't hurt me!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You're staring hard into my eyes again.
I can just barely make out the intense emotions in the shimmering candle light, the faint glowing flicker that emmits from our bedside table. It's here that I pause in my actions, gazing back down into your intent look, my own face frozen in some contemplation you don't bother to stop. You only look back, look back with soft breaths from that gorgeous mouth of yours, waiting patiently for what you know will eventually come. Another sweet kiss.
You seem to live off my kisses, almost like a sweetened sugur that brings your mind and soul screaming in pleasure. (Something I'm really proud of, actually.) Every time you seem so overwhelmed by the force with which I crush my mouth to yours in possession, eagerly taking what I deem to be my own. My lovely, lovely fire.
And so, in this break, I take the time to study you as usual. I suppose most people would call it arrogant admiration of my "prize", my gift I had recieved through my own hard work and perseverance. But it's not that, any mortal idiot could tell who's been in love. I look down at you, my amai, with a great fondness and passion that I can't seem to stop burning in my veins. It's merged with my wine blood, the blood I so vaguely depended on, so that now I'm sure I could never live without your grace. And it's here that I look for you, to see your faithful assurance that you'll always be the one here with me, beneath my face as I study you in our dimly lit bedroom.
Years have gone by, haven't they? You and I have done many things, both of importance and of foolishness, and everything has been locked in my timeless memory like photographs that will last my entire life. You're laughter, always loud but always sweet in it's honesty, and especially your smiles, the constant dared ones and the rare kind that would light your face up like a sunrise. (And I have always compared you with the sun, my amai, I think you know that!) It's those things I remember the most, and treasure as though the most precious riches I've owned no matter my wealth.
And through all those years, one thing has truly remained a constant in my life. You.
I'm still searching your naive, patient face. The light's so weak in this room, and it doesn't help the window curtains have been closed by the bed, so your face isn't outlined in the moonlight like usual. It's such a cool night, being winter and all, and I don't want you to catch cold. (Which is why the necessity the window be closed, of course.) Yet, although I don't have adequate lighting in our apartment bedroom, I can still make out the dark features of your face in the light.
Mm. There's your dark eyebrows, lifted slightly with amusement as you watch me watch you. Your simple, almost pixie nose at times, that tends to sneeze whenever you clean out the attic in the summer. The way your smile slowly comes on with a wayward blush of embarrassment at my scrunity, even though I do this often to your innocent soul. It's with that sweet, naive blush that I feel my heart melt again for the thousandth time, and I sweep a lock of your soft burgandy, cinnamon hair back from your face where it'd fallen. (Here, to my pleasure, your blush deepens.)
It's these things that make me laugh at you, sometimes. You're so beautiful, my amai, in candle light and sunlight- both don't do your adorable face and spirit justice. Although I love everything about you, especially the way your slender body seems molded so that it fits into mine perfectly as though melted into me, warm and small and your arms tightly wound around my neck... your whispers always tickling my ears... when you run your slight hands up and down my spine, making me shiver...
And... I have gotten off track, I'm afraid.
What was I saying before you started toying with me, again? Oh, don't do that, love, let me look at you a moment before- yes, that's right. Lay down again, against the startling white of the pillow that contrasts with your intensely dark skin. You're watching me again, letting me look, and that's just how I've always loved it.
Despite I love the way you breath and talk, and just about everything, I'll blindly admit... it has to be your eyes that catch me so often. Those haunting, yet so brimming with life eyes. Always sharp and mixed with a dozen different emotions and delights, every sorrow caught like a tiger in a cage within those eyes. They tease me whenever you do, and even when you don't. Especially the unique colours, the deep chocolate, rich as oak and spring earth. Shinging eyes that brim with darkness and light at the same time. They captured me, caught me in a teasing lasso, and slowly drew me into this fate.
I wanted to be drawn. I always wanted to be drawn, my amai.
And here, looking into your eyes, I see all the love you have for *me.* As horribly odd as it sounds, even with my bloody conscience that screams at me every night with despairing dreams, you still burn only for one person: Me. You burn so brightly you chase away the laughing, taunting demons, scolding them with scorched flickers of flame, and shove them away with your heat. (You're so brilliantly radiant when you're my hero, my amai. It's one of the things I love about you.) Heat's always been your strong suit.
You were the one, when we first met in a strange youthful way of enemy and leader, who first melted my ice with that heat. I was cold, a dark and frigid crystal of black snow and dark indigo eyes that flashed hate every chance they had. It must have taken incredible compassion and love to try so hard, day after day, to bring me back to where there was no snow and ice. Where you lived, in a blinding sun, where the summer nights weren't cold and lonely, but filled with soft promises and gentle night breezes outside in the dark. I remember feeling so amazed at the world. The one you took me into to.
The one you've kept me in for seven years.
I spent all of those years living off of you, drinking your beauty and stubborn courage up like a forbidden beverage I hadn't been able to taste for centuries. Slowly, the world made so much more sense, and not to mention became so much more tolerable. Together we've woven a life out of our few broken fights and our many wonderful moments. I wouldn't take those back to rule any world, no matter how easy it would be to do so.
You've been my light since the day I saw you. And I suspect when I die, you'll be the only thing in my mind. (Although I'm not sure whether I hope to be in the afterlife before or after you- which is better? To live without your love, or to know I'm leaving you behind to the wolves?) Because I would leave you to the wolves- the people who don't care enough to hold you when you're sobbing at night. That's my job, anyway, and it makes me growl thinking of anyone else in your embrace.
Jealousy is a green eyed monster which doth mocks the meat it feeds upon. Othello. Strange how I don't feel like a green eyed monster when I think of someone else with you- like that blond idiot, Takeru. My skin burns whenever he smiles at you. He's had a crush on you forever, love, even though I'd never tell you that. We and Takeru, the blond and I, have had an understanding that you will never see our silent competing for you in the background.
Thankfully, he could never have you. Although you look at him in a way that makes you smile and light up brightly, flashing confident grins, you don't love him. You might have been able to once, but that was before you met me. Before you tasted the night and knew you were so addicted you couldn't leave it be where it was bound and chained in submission for you.
I will always be yours.
You're starting to get impatient, as always, my amai. Slowly brushing with slender, teasing fingers at my face, running through my hair like it's silk strands. Nuzzling into my chest like an affection kitten- hiding your face, but the comfort I get from the gesture is enough that I don't protest. I've seen enough any, enough to satisfy me that you're as happy as possible.
My amai, you're happiness means everything, and even as I'm holding you, I swear I'll never let anything else be more important. We're in college now, and moving on to bigger things, but no matter the job or the money involved, you will still be my precious possession. The possession that possesses my heart, that is.
My amai. I love you.
My hands brush over your face again, lifting it, and I melt us into a passionate kiss that rockets our desires to the top. I know from the moment I grip your sides and hold you close to me, my heart beating wildly, that you love me as well. Even so, you tend to whisper it every night. (Something I find heartwarming, although not necessary.)
"I love you, Ken-chan..."
Your murmers are like water gliding through the candle's flame. A contradiction and a melody to sweet to exist.
"I love you, too, my Daisuke."
I smile against your lips, and meet your own again in a challenge. The bedside candle still flickers on, casting our shadows against the bedroom wall as we embrace in our love.
And we still burn, my amai.
We still burn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~