Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS.
Note: hi, pulangitim here. i revised 'beautiful world' (i changed the title, too) and made it a one-shot. english is my second language. feedbacks are appreciated.
Her breasts cradled his head, and he was screaming softly on her bed. They were luscious (they were luminescent). His softness got to her as though she was still innocent. He was here, his heart and his soul (his caresses, his darling monsters) and her dearly beloved pounded faster, faster, and FASTER and it was bound to end until it was over.
Ah, yes, over…
He panted, his smirk appearing in his stare that was always looking in an imaginary place. It gave her the itch, the itch underneath her skin. The shivers.
"Oh, beautiful Tomoyo, where have you been all my life?" he teased as he gradually reclined on the bedpost. Tomoyo sat up once she got her breathing room back, and she welcomed him in (and out he will go). She felt gravely hot and the buzz from the champagne they imbibed minutes before their copulation was still in their blood.
"Perhaps you didn't see me on account of the other women, with freckles in their cheekbones, gripping your ass ad nauseam," she returned graciously, and she was feeling extremely generous that she also said he missed her for the first eighteen years of his life.
Eriol proffered her his sympathetic look and though he was mocking her, she took it and she was still perfect and pretty and dolled up.
"You seem chipper than usual," he noted, a susceptible pride carved in his thought.
But Tomoyo was busy giving her tangled hair a tug, curiously wondering whether the scent of sex in her room would scatter like a faraway song if she hated it a million times, or whether she would miss his scent when he flirts with other women's hearts.
And ah! In his viewpoint, she was in a daze for the nineteenth time that night. Annoyed, he said, "Tomoyo." He balled his fists. "Tomoyo-san"
"Sure." she answered, inattentive of his aggravation, kissing him in the mouth.
He speculated her, leisurely touching the ripples of her hair. He was certain something momentous caused her to be this peachy. Vague lines stretched across his forehead. She acted as if she was in love. "All right, little girl, what happened to the wretched painting of a girl with the wretched ending?"
"Something dreadful happened today." she started out dreamily, "As I'm Syaoran's friend, he confided to me that Meiling visited him three days ago—" a sadistic expression followed her sigh "—he told me that Meiling loves him still and she is with child. Her family exiled her and he is her last resort. He has to marry her, she pleaded him, or otherwise she doesn't know what to do."
He cleared his throat, clearly amused now that he understood her current disposition. "Meiling's out of character." he commented idly, "surely you...?"
She affirmed his implication with a nod. "I have families of connections in Hong Kong." She smiled madly at him. "I simply tweaked everybody's lives so they could fit neatly in mine."
"I see." he grinned, and she knew he would be proud of her but she did not anticipate what came out from his sweet, sensuous mouth: "Tell me your story."
Taken aback, but never surprised, she did.
She fell in love at the age of ten.
Tomoyo and Sakura had been best friends for countless of years that sometimes Tomoyo thought Sakura was a dream; a thing that she conjured up to accompany her childhood years.
Students and teachers in Tomodea could not say 'Tomoyo' without 'Sakura' or 'Sakura' without 'Tomoyo'. It did not seem right, they said. Tomoyo and Sakura were like twins, both equally brilliant and bittersweet. They shared everything with one another and it was their thing when Sakura would pack lunches for them and Tomoyo would bring the beverages and desserts. They saw everything, every light, and every dark.
Perhaps the one thing Sakura did not know about was that her best friend loved her dearly, loved her more than just a friend. Tomoyo was content that she has her Sakura-chan, though, but it did not occur to her that on one faithful day, Li-kun took Sakura-chan from her away. On that same faithful day, Tomoyo grew up. On that same faithful day, Tomoyo knew the pangs of love.
She was boggled over how the flowers intermingled with sweat, effort, and essence. She loved his garden, actually, and on her birthdays, he would give her three dozens of flowers ranging from roses to tulips. Sakura received a measly dozen of cherry blossoms on her birthdays, he confirmed to her last year, when she half-jokingly said that he must loved her a lot than Sakura. That does not suggest that I love you, Tomoyo-san, he said sincerely. I love you in your imagination.
"If you did love me, Eriol-kun," she mused aloud, "do you think I would love you back?"
His answer was simple. "No."
She searched his face for some elaboration. He twisted his parched lips cruelly. "Don't you have to fret over Sakura-san?"
Her shoulders dropped. "Ah." She closed her eyes, and then opened them again, gazing at Eriol carefully. "Sakura is breaking. Meiling and Syaoran left for their flight yesterday once they told Sakura the news… He left her without saying goodbye."
His jaw throbbed as the seconds fell. He fixed her with a curious look. "And?" he said, "Aren't you happy?"
She gurgled, a simple baby weeping; but it was silent, hushed by the composed poise her mother taught her that her father taught her mother.
"Sakura is breaking." Tomoyo repeated as though he were deaf. He wrinkled his nose, frustrated.
"So tell her."
Dark purple eyes glared at him. "Tell her what, tell her that she's breaking?" she grated out, angry. He merely looked at her.
"You know what I meant. You know that she would hate you if you told her the truth. So go ahead and tell her, tell her that you are the one who is breaking her." He taunted her, dared her to bit back, but she did not reply.
Then, as if she had a sudden change of thought, she whispered. "I know," She exhaled noisily, as though pained, "I know."
They were lovers. They loved and loved and loved. They were a fucking family. "Kaho was the only woman I ever loved," he said, bitterly, "She was the one."
If you break, do not come looking for me.
"Was, Eriol-kun? Are you over her?"
When you break, do not come looking for me.
"No. Yes. You replaced her."
Life is like candy if you can get away with it.
Thus, they escaped.
They inhaled pleasure as the passion urged its thrusts. They craved the ecstasy—the exuberance—that nobody can ever think of, the nonstop sickening feeling that spread through them.
It was the thought that counts, was it not. And lust. It was exactly what they needed.
And when it was time for them to return…
She gasped as he moaned, and she quivered as he groaned. They cuddled for a while because she liked it. He was still inside her because he thirsts for it. They did not speak; speaking was not necessary.
But she wanted to observe him and the perspiration coming out of his pores. It made tear-like drops and without warning, dropped on the bridge of her nose. Chuckling, he got off her. Secretly, he knew her.
"Eriol…"
He rested his fist on his cheek, his magnetic blue eyes watching her.
"Do you—" she stopped, embarrassed.
But she seemed to gain confidence from his uncertainty, from his silence, and her breathing relaxed, but her heart was oddly beating fast. She lingered a finger on his chest, smiling quietly, and, with pure liquefied adoration, she said, "Love you."
Confusion flickered over his face, and then, awareness. If you break, do not come looking for me. His fingers were affectionate, tracing her curves lovingly, a smirk shaping his lips. When you break, do not come looking for me. His magnetic blue eyes were watching her, just like before, but now they glimmered as if to question her.
Her answer was simple. "You replaced her."
…they were simply two strangers bottled in one soul.