Alright, alright, so I failed at daily updates, and it's now October. Phooey. However, just because I'm running a little past the deadline, I'm still going to finish this, because I want one more chapter to sort of end things with. To people who requested pairings I did not cover: I apologize. I tried to do as many as possible...but anyway, on to the drabble.
It hadn't seemed right.
She was so much stronger than him, always the one he looked up to, someone he would defeat when he got tougher. She was a model for him, a rival.
So why was she always crying alone?
And how come he couldn't stop it?
Her grip on his arm was cold as she pulled him through the doorway and into the darkened room. Shadows fell across her face, so all he could see was the subtle glint of her eyes, staring into his. She walked backwards, and he followed her, transfixed.
He reached up a hand and traced the side of her face, feeling the dampness on his palm. That anger rose in him again: she had been crying, and he was so damn useless.
"Erza," he whispered.
She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him, and her other hand landed gently on his bare chest, stroking over the blue emblem there. He shivered, but didn't make a move, even as his cold body began to heat.
He knew what she was asking. She just wanted someone right now to make her forget, someone to be with her just for a while. He studied her face in the dim light, then slowly tipped her chin up, shifting closer, leaning down.
She closed her eyes, and he knew it was alright.
It took him a while to warm to her when they were younger. At first he'd hated her. He hadn't wanted her there, in the guild, messing with the ordinary way of things. She was an intruder that didn't belong. It was her tears that made him start to accept her.
It was her tears now that made it impossible to refuse her.
Sheets rustled underneath his back and darkness pressed in upon them, making them anonymous. She shifted on top of him, lifting herself up, and he tightened his grip on her hips, guiding her. She braced her hands on his chest and lowered herself down upon him. He gritted his teeth, slowly bucking his hips upwards, trying not to make a sound. They moved together, harsh breathing reverberating around the room, and it was so damn good that he could barely think.
He wrapped his arms around her, his face pressed to the curve of her shoulder, tasting the sweet tang of sweat there. He rolled them over, and to his surprise, she let him, moaning softly when he moved back, hooking her legs over his shoulders and driving into her harder.
She didn't like it when he talked during sex. He wasn't stupid; he figured that was because as long as it was dark and he didn't speak, she could imagine he was someone else.
Gray was used to being second best, and so he said with his body what she wouldn't let him say with words.
He didn't want her to cry.
He didn't want her to cry, and so he'd let her use him when she wanted to, when memories of him surfaced and wouldn't go away.
And maybe, just maybe, one day it would be his name that her mouth formed when she reached the edge.
Because for him, it was always hers.
Oh, Gray.
