Starlight in His Hair

Matthew, while he was sleeping, was an angel in every sense of the word. He curled into Alfred's side, the bare expanse of their skin rubbing together, body lithe and docile in his arms. His hair, tousled by sex and sleep, seemed to catch the starlight that glittered outside. The few lines on his face were smoothed, further accentuating his childlike appearance.

Alfred smiled fondly, brushing the hair from his smooth skin, laying kisses over his relaxed face. Matthew was so beautiful that sometimes it hurt to look at him. Sometimes he wondered what Matthew saw in him, except for the strong hero that he had always been. Matthew mumbled quietly, making cute lip smacking noises and tossed his leg over Alfred's, snuggling closer. His breath was warm and soft on Alfred's neck. He could feel each flutter of his eyelashes, each subtle movement of his lips, almost brushing his skin.

Matthew's bare hip was soft and supple beneath his hand. Alfred traced his fingers up, over the curve of his cute ass, smoothing his hand across Matthew's chest, drawing circles along the column of his neck, fluttering back down again to travel over his thigh. In his sleep, Matthew giggled, wrapping his arm around Alfred's neck to pull him as close as possible.

With him that close, their breaths mingling, he could smell his hair, his skin. It was a scent he adored, made him want to eat Matthew right up because it added to the innocence of him. The soft, sweet charm that he had, that made his eyes glitter. Jasmine and peaches. The first time they had slept together, Alfred had licked every inch of Matthew's skin to find that taste. To test it for himself. Even if he never found it, he still loved the idea. Matthew was like a mellifluous, ripe peach.

While he was asleep, Alfred became painfully aware of all the reasons he loved Matthew. He wanted to wake him up, just to see his eyes glow in the darkness. Just to be greeted with a kiss. Just to flip him over and make love to him again. Just to hear the strangled cries that he bit his lip to retain. Just to pull him tightly into his arms to sleep again.

"Al, you're tickling me. What's wrong?" Matthew looked up at him, and Alfred found himself floored by Matthew's perfection. Found himself mesmerized by each movement of his lips, each blink of those violet blue eyes, the gentle touch of Matthew's hand to his arm. Just as he had always thought, Matthew was an angel. With a soft laugh, he leaned forward, kissing the pouting lips. He tasted peaches, regardless of the impossibility of it.

Carefully, Alfred climbed on top of him, spreading his thighs to sit between them, running his hands over his creamy skin. He kissed and licked and bit every part of Matthew that he could reach, savored every small gasp and moan. Just as he had thought, Matthew's eyes reflected the moon, his hair caught the starlight. His fingers, thin, were perfect. Even as he dragged his nails over Alfred's shoulders, his scream of pleasure painfully luscious, fingers digging into flesh.

Alfred smiled, hands gripping hard enough to leave bruises on Matthew's hips. Each thrust was unbearable heaven, each sob of delight music that he wanted to hear over and over again. Each breathless gasp of his name sent sparks of electricity down his spine. And of course, Matthew's eyes. The adoration that Matthew so openly displayed.

Alfred would never be able to deny him a thing. Not with the starlight caught in his hair. Not with his heart in Matthew's hands.

Owari