Title: Sands of Time
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mahiro/Yoshino
Warnings: not-too-descriptive sex
Summary: As much as I want it to end, I don't. As much as I want to tell you, I can't. Maybe next time, when our time is in sync, and no longer out of joint, I will be able to express these aching and unfulfilled emotions of mine. Maybe next time, as the last grains of sand fall, I won't have to reset time.
This time is out of joint.
The pace of our breaths increases as the heat between our bodies meet in adultered haste. You don't try to meet my eyes, and I avoid yours all together. We stare past each others' gazes with needy lust as our hands search for limbs and flesh to grab hold of. My mouth fits itself between the junction of your neck and shoulder and you allow the obscene moans to spill from your throat even more. I find myself pushing inside of you just a little further—trying to reach the deepest parts of you, where no one else has touched—and you reciprocate with the lift of your hips, a trembling hand grasping at my hair, and a pleasurable cry.
The room is continually filled with the vulgar sounds of our labored breathing and of my hips meeting yours with a rough, wet slap; a reflection of our insatiable lust for each others' bodies and a reminder of just how dirty and immoral we had become.
A glance at the hourglass that stood atop of the shaking headboard warned us of the little time we had left together.
In a swift movement, I flip you over and press a hand against the back of your neck, keeping your face buried against the pillows. I don't hear your words or your scream when I begin pounding into you again, pulling you back with my other hand by your hips to make sure you meet my every thrust. What I do hear though, is your shameless voice moaning my name as you turn your head and bring a hand back to grip my side, encouraging my fast pace. I feel my chest swell, and then finally, our eyes meet.
Nothing.
I close my eyes and become lost in the heat. I grab your waist and drive myself into you faster, focusing on the pleasure and the connection our bodies were sharing during this brief exchange. It doesn't take you long; and soon, you stutter over my name and let out a long, lewd, and drawn out moan as you spill your release over the bed sheets. The heat encloses around me, almost threatening to squeeze the life out of me. My heart races and I lose focus, solely relying on instinct to continue senselessly thrusting into you and reach fulfillment. I tense, holding my orgasm till the last moment before I let go and release. As you relax around me, all that's left is a pleasant, throbbing heat.
My mind blanks. Time slips from my hands like sand and I feel like this moment could last forever. The hourglass and your quiet, sputtering complaints say otherwise though.
I pull out and take the condom off before throwing it into the nearby trashcan that's probably filled with a number of them by now, including tissues and maybe am empty bottle of lube. I watch you sit up, your cheeks red, hair mused, and lips slightly parted as you try to catch your breath. As you lean over the bed to search through our discarded clothes for your phone, I see it. The soft, endearing look in your eyes as you check the messages you received—most likely from your girlfriend. The look I could never obtain even after I satisfy your body to its very limits, time and time again. What will it take to acquire a glance from you with a similar expression? When will I stop being a replacement and become something more? Or less?
Another glance at the hourglass tells me time is almost up, and I resolve to tell you today. When the last grain of sand falls, I will admit my true feelings and end this "game." As fun as it is, it isn't what I want anymore. I want more.
But chances are you'll most likely leave and never look back. We made a deal after all: to never develop feelings for each other in order to satisfy our bodily needs within each other without problems.
I lean back on the bed and you get up to retrieve your clothes and properly dress. You say your thanks and apologize for having to leave so abruptly—that your girlfriend was waiting for you and that you needed to hurry to her side. I merely hum in acknowledgement, watching the hourglass as if I were afraid to look away. There's only a little bit left to go…
You mutter one more thanks and head towards the door once you're fully dressed, opening it with a soft click.
"Yoshino."
Before I realize it, I stop you. You seem to hesitate at the doorway for a moment, but you turn your head to look back at me regardless. Our eyes meet and as usual, I can't read your expression—but your eyes are still the same.
Nothing.
"Yes, Mahiro?"
The silence is heavy in the room, and ultimately, the one who looks away after a very long, unnecessary moment is me.
"No, it's nothing."
Our time is out of joint.
With a soft shrug and a lingering look, you turn and leave; the door shutting behind you as quietly as you had snuck into my mind, as I reset time and flip the hourglass over before the last bits of sand can fall into the chamber below.
