Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. My imagination only stretches
so far as to make up my own fantasies with the simple intent of borrowing
their well known forms, but no I get no profit out of this so its not worth
sueing. =P
His fingers paused, hovering like clouds lifted airily over a landscape, too beautiful to embrace in its entirety. His heart caught in his throat, adrenaline running through his veins, spurred by such daring, while his body trembled- at the sight of a button, afraid to touch it as though the mere thought of uncovering the treasure it protected were sacrilege enough.
She smiled at him gently, their eyes held each other, more intimately than any physical touch they could achieve; and in that moment of drowning in her cerulean blues he forgot his apprehension, deft fingers, oblivious to his reverence, smoothly released her from the constraint of the top button of her yellow sweater.
His fingers trailed down to the next button before pausing there again, suddenly too conscious of the way her chest rose with each breath. He wondered if, beneath that rising, there was a heart pounding as fiercely as his. He wished for a moment, that he could place his ear to that sacred spot and listen, but reminded himself, with a certain degree of sadness, that such a violation would break the spell.
Still, his body tingled at the thought; he shivered partly from excitement, and mostly terror. He took a deep breath in mental preparation, awed at how such a simple task could become such a trial before cautiously undoing the second button.
He sighed, previously unaware that he had been holding his breath. He looked back into her smiling face; it was her infinite patience that allowed him to take all the time he desired, without shame. He had been afraid at first, and she knew that. So much intimacy when for so long he had hardly allowed himself to dream of simple love. He was frightened past his wits, in ways that somehow surpassed the memories of Akito's abuse, in his fear that his curse would somehow cause her more pain than she must already be suffering. But she had showed no signs of suffering, so lovingly patient, in her love for him, with his struggle to express his love for her.
She smiled at him lovingly, giving him courage, and one by one the buttons slowly came undone. He eased the yellow fabric off the roundness of shoulders that quivered slightly under the accidental brush of his fingers.
Once removed the sweater lay crumpled on the bed, forgotten in the sudden preoccupation with the white blouse he suddenly realized was the only, now seemingly too thin, separation between his hands and the unfathomable intimacy of her bare skin.
His fingers hesitated at her waist, the delicate intersection between shirt and skirt, where the blouse disappeared into the shelter of blue and body warmth. He clung to the fabric softly, rubbing the silky texture between his fingers, coaxing it gently towards him.
Once freed, he wasn't sure where to go from there. Suddenly anxious, his heart pounded as he imagined the next step.
He really did lack composure.
"Yuki?" She sensed his indecisiveness.
He smiled at her, placing one hand on her cheek and, as though in answer to her unspoken question, whispered a kiss across her nose, her cheek, down to the curve of her waiting mouth.
Her hand came up to his cheek, her fingers smooth against him, endearing in a way that made his cheeks flush. He could feel the slight chill of metal from her ring finger; the wedding band that bound them to each other eternally.
He took her hand, kissing her fingers affectionately before bravely tugging at her blouse, easing it up over her arms like a parent undressing a child.
It was selfish to keep her waiting after it had taken them so much to get here.
The others had been surprised at their decision to elope so young. Shocked even more when they realized Yuki was defying Akito's demand that they give up their relationship.
But he couldn't. He could no more give up his love for Tohru than he could stop breathing. Hatori, in remembrance of Kana, had decided to protect them and refused Akito's command to erase their memories.
It was a quiet ceremony. Hana and Uo had attended at Tohru's request, refusing to be left out, and a far too amused Shigure and sullen Kyou came with them. He had been surprised that Kyou came. He knew that he had loved Tohru probably just as much as he did, and, though he knew Kyou came for Tohru's sake, he was grateful.
Yuki's mind came back to the present in the sudden unveiling of Tohru's body. He caught his breath, his body reacting in ways he couldn't control to the sight of her pale body exposed. A light blush spread across her cheeks as he studied her intently, like the fragile beauty of sakura petals gracing the surface of her skin.
He suddenly felt more self conscious than he had ever been, feeling how naked he really was under the inadequate protection of clothes. His eyes drifted, unable to tear his gaze from her neck, her shoulders, the modest swell of her breasts not shielded by white lace.
His hand reached for her, fingers trembling slightly as they held her chin, leaning into her lips and kissing her more passionately than he intended.
His hand slipped over the lace that wrapped around her left shoulder, slowly wandering down her side, down an untravelled path towards the smoothness of her belly.
He could feel her respond to his touch, her body trembling like his own.
And then it began.
He wanted to hold her; to feel her warmth; to cling to her and cradle her close enough to feel her heart beat against his. Yet, in his mind he struggled against the futility of such a vain desire.
Yuki struggled for control. His mind reeled in the increasingly dizzying blur of touch and warmth and consuming want. His left hand ran through her hair, soft brown strands that yielded to his every touch, placing his hand firmly against the back of her head, and kissing her roughly. She seemed startled by his passionate outburst, before yielding entirely.
He could feel her passion, drinking it through her lips like a wine, his dizzying intoxication liberating him from inhibition.
He was supposed to be the composed one. His mind all too aware of the curse that threatened to tear them apart should he dare get too close, but somehow his mind lost sight of that nagging voice screaming in the back of his mind that he was rapidly entering dangerous territory; the realm of passion, and selfish desire; the tyrant, reason, overthrown and trampled under the wave that now threatened to overwhelm him.
His hand wandered to the small of her back, easing her onto the bed with forced patience. He nearly crushed his body to hers when, like a slap in the face, her hands pushed him away.
He felt wounded at first, his body recoiling from the sudden rejection, struggling, in his confusion, to comprehend what he did wrong. But her hand touched his cheek affectionately, consoling him before he could retreat entirely. Sitting up, she placed a chaste kiss on his nose, hands drifting to unclasp the hook on his shirt.
She hesitated a moment, too shy it seemed to complete what she had started and Yuki, understanding her bashfulness, relieved her of the task. The shirt came sliding smoothly, her wrists came up to his shoulders to rest there lightly. He did the same to her: the closest they would ever come to an embrace before Yuki leaned in to kiss her affectionately.
But one taste and the headiness was back, only dulled by the ache, replacing passion, undulating through his body.
Yuki has always been cautious. Never overly emotional, never passionate, nor exceptionally angry, even in those bouts with Kyou he went through in his teens. He had restrained all his excitements, his passions, his violent emotions as necessitated by caution. But that wasn't the Yuki he wanted to show Tohru. He wanted her to see the untamed side of the love that only she could evoke.
Instead, he caressed her side with a painful caution and forced restraint. His fingers trembled when they came to the zipper of her blue skirt. Her hand covered his supportively as he slowly pulled the zipper, like tugging on the cord of a curtain about to unveil a hidden mystery. Tohru eased the skirt around her hips, squirming her way out of it clumsily.
Yuki couldn't help but laugh.
She looked up at him in surprise, slightly concerned slightly pink from her embarrassment.
"Gomen Tohru." He ran his fingers through her hair. You really are cute."
She pinked even more at this and Yuki, tension released from the laughter, nuzzled her nose playfully.
He kissed her teasingly, ready to try again.
His fingers paused, hovering like clouds lifted airily over a landscape, too beautiful to embrace in its entirety. His heart caught in his throat, adrenaline running through his veins, spurred by such daring, while his body trembled- at the sight of a button, afraid to touch it as though the mere thought of uncovering the treasure it protected were sacrilege enough.
She smiled at him gently, their eyes held each other, more intimately than any physical touch they could achieve; and in that moment of drowning in her cerulean blues he forgot his apprehension, deft fingers, oblivious to his reverence, smoothly released her from the constraint of the top button of her yellow sweater.
His fingers trailed down to the next button before pausing there again, suddenly too conscious of the way her chest rose with each breath. He wondered if, beneath that rising, there was a heart pounding as fiercely as his. He wished for a moment, that he could place his ear to that sacred spot and listen, but reminded himself, with a certain degree of sadness, that such a violation would break the spell.
Still, his body tingled at the thought; he shivered partly from excitement, and mostly terror. He took a deep breath in mental preparation, awed at how such a simple task could become such a trial before cautiously undoing the second button.
He sighed, previously unaware that he had been holding his breath. He looked back into her smiling face; it was her infinite patience that allowed him to take all the time he desired, without shame. He had been afraid at first, and she knew that. So much intimacy when for so long he had hardly allowed himself to dream of simple love. He was frightened past his wits, in ways that somehow surpassed the memories of Akito's abuse, in his fear that his curse would somehow cause her more pain than she must already be suffering. But she had showed no signs of suffering, so lovingly patient, in her love for him, with his struggle to express his love for her.
She smiled at him lovingly, giving him courage, and one by one the buttons slowly came undone. He eased the yellow fabric off the roundness of shoulders that quivered slightly under the accidental brush of his fingers.
Once removed the sweater lay crumpled on the bed, forgotten in the sudden preoccupation with the white blouse he suddenly realized was the only, now seemingly too thin, separation between his hands and the unfathomable intimacy of her bare skin.
His fingers hesitated at her waist, the delicate intersection between shirt and skirt, where the blouse disappeared into the shelter of blue and body warmth. He clung to the fabric softly, rubbing the silky texture between his fingers, coaxing it gently towards him.
Once freed, he wasn't sure where to go from there. Suddenly anxious, his heart pounded as he imagined the next step.
He really did lack composure.
"Yuki?" She sensed his indecisiveness.
He smiled at her, placing one hand on her cheek and, as though in answer to her unspoken question, whispered a kiss across her nose, her cheek, down to the curve of her waiting mouth.
Her hand came up to his cheek, her fingers smooth against him, endearing in a way that made his cheeks flush. He could feel the slight chill of metal from her ring finger; the wedding band that bound them to each other eternally.
He took her hand, kissing her fingers affectionately before bravely tugging at her blouse, easing it up over her arms like a parent undressing a child.
It was selfish to keep her waiting after it had taken them so much to get here.
The others had been surprised at their decision to elope so young. Shocked even more when they realized Yuki was defying Akito's demand that they give up their relationship.
But he couldn't. He could no more give up his love for Tohru than he could stop breathing. Hatori, in remembrance of Kana, had decided to protect them and refused Akito's command to erase their memories.
It was a quiet ceremony. Hana and Uo had attended at Tohru's request, refusing to be left out, and a far too amused Shigure and sullen Kyou came with them. He had been surprised that Kyou came. He knew that he had loved Tohru probably just as much as he did, and, though he knew Kyou came for Tohru's sake, he was grateful.
Yuki's mind came back to the present in the sudden unveiling of Tohru's body. He caught his breath, his body reacting in ways he couldn't control to the sight of her pale body exposed. A light blush spread across her cheeks as he studied her intently, like the fragile beauty of sakura petals gracing the surface of her skin.
He suddenly felt more self conscious than he had ever been, feeling how naked he really was under the inadequate protection of clothes. His eyes drifted, unable to tear his gaze from her neck, her shoulders, the modest swell of her breasts not shielded by white lace.
His hand reached for her, fingers trembling slightly as they held her chin, leaning into her lips and kissing her more passionately than he intended.
His hand slipped over the lace that wrapped around her left shoulder, slowly wandering down her side, down an untravelled path towards the smoothness of her belly.
He could feel her respond to his touch, her body trembling like his own.
And then it began.
He wanted to hold her; to feel her warmth; to cling to her and cradle her close enough to feel her heart beat against his. Yet, in his mind he struggled against the futility of such a vain desire.
Yuki struggled for control. His mind reeled in the increasingly dizzying blur of touch and warmth and consuming want. His left hand ran through her hair, soft brown strands that yielded to his every touch, placing his hand firmly against the back of her head, and kissing her roughly. She seemed startled by his passionate outburst, before yielding entirely.
He could feel her passion, drinking it through her lips like a wine, his dizzying intoxication liberating him from inhibition.
He was supposed to be the composed one. His mind all too aware of the curse that threatened to tear them apart should he dare get too close, but somehow his mind lost sight of that nagging voice screaming in the back of his mind that he was rapidly entering dangerous territory; the realm of passion, and selfish desire; the tyrant, reason, overthrown and trampled under the wave that now threatened to overwhelm him.
His hand wandered to the small of her back, easing her onto the bed with forced patience. He nearly crushed his body to hers when, like a slap in the face, her hands pushed him away.
He felt wounded at first, his body recoiling from the sudden rejection, struggling, in his confusion, to comprehend what he did wrong. But her hand touched his cheek affectionately, consoling him before he could retreat entirely. Sitting up, she placed a chaste kiss on his nose, hands drifting to unclasp the hook on his shirt.
She hesitated a moment, too shy it seemed to complete what she had started and Yuki, understanding her bashfulness, relieved her of the task. The shirt came sliding smoothly, her wrists came up to his shoulders to rest there lightly. He did the same to her: the closest they would ever come to an embrace before Yuki leaned in to kiss her affectionately.
But one taste and the headiness was back, only dulled by the ache, replacing passion, undulating through his body.
Yuki has always been cautious. Never overly emotional, never passionate, nor exceptionally angry, even in those bouts with Kyou he went through in his teens. He had restrained all his excitements, his passions, his violent emotions as necessitated by caution. But that wasn't the Yuki he wanted to show Tohru. He wanted her to see the untamed side of the love that only she could evoke.
Instead, he caressed her side with a painful caution and forced restraint. His fingers trembled when they came to the zipper of her blue skirt. Her hand covered his supportively as he slowly pulled the zipper, like tugging on the cord of a curtain about to unveil a hidden mystery. Tohru eased the skirt around her hips, squirming her way out of it clumsily.
Yuki couldn't help but laugh.
She looked up at him in surprise, slightly concerned slightly pink from her embarrassment.
"Gomen Tohru." He ran his fingers through her hair. You really are cute."
She pinked even more at this and Yuki, tension released from the laughter, nuzzled her nose playfully.
He kissed her teasingly, ready to try again.
