Title: Instinct
Author: Hallucination
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kazuya Minekura. No profit is being made and no harm is intended.
It is drizzling outside, the fine drops of rain gently descending like a widow's quiet weeping. The world is silent except for their light patter; the world is soft and grey, and open too. The nearby woods seem less thick; the road seems wider. You know it won't storm because it's been drizzling like this all day, and you are comforted by the reprieve that the absence of a suffocating torrent of rain brings. You can breathe.
And so can Goku. He too breathes easier today, because your mood is like the impressionistic grey of a world sprinkled in light rain, not the harsh black of an angry tempest, and you make a rare acceptance of that too often heard offer of a back massage to soothe your knotted muscles, in the safety of this inn.
In the safety of this inn, on the softness of this bed, you remove your shirt. You turn over and Goku straddles your lower back. His rough hands are not hard but firm as they knead your flesh, heat and touch persuading the bunched up muscles to relax. It takes fifteen minutes of this warm contact for you to notice the sounds you are making. You are surprised, though your eyes remain closed. You assumed that a natural restraint would have involuntarily controlled your behaviour; you had not expected to enjoy anything so much that you would actually forget yourself.
You are glad to think of this through the haze of your pain/pleasure, and are just about to stop the sounds you are making when another whole set of sounds reaches your ears. These sounds are different from yours; Goku's voice is higher, and while the low moans you made were languid, his are breathless with the hot pursuit of a goal. As you return to your senses you are aware of Goku's torso leaning against you rather a little more than it did fifteen minutes ago, and you feel, with a sudden forward motion of your body against the sheets, Goku's own body rocking ever so slightly against your lower back.
In a split second several thoughts barrage your mind. You wonder if Goku actually thinks you don't notice what he is doing, you wonder how he could possibly even dare to do what he is doing; you wonder how he even got from there to here. But one thing there is no time to ponder on is your next move, because Goku has felt your body tense.
He is literally off your back in a flash, muttering clumsy apologies, looking flushed. Looking embarrassed because the idiot still thinks you have no idea what he is apologizing for and is therefore making himself look foolish.
As you sit up, you briefly imagine yourself whacking Goku on the head with your fan for daring to think you stupid. Then you look at his confused expression and know that it is he himself who has no idea what has just happened, or why he let it happen. So you tell him only idiots apologise; only an idiot would do something and regret it later. You're pretty sure Goku doesn't understand the full meaning of your words, but he obviously takes what you've said, rightly, as a sign that you're not angry at him. He gives a wavering smile and asks if you feel better now. You tell him to shut up, but the order has no real acid in it. This makes Goku's tentative smile a little stronger as he shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other before making a quick exit out of the room.
So you lie back down on your front, your thoughts indistinct and your feelings threatening to overcome you. The last five minutes have passed like a dream, you're so shaken you can barely remember what was said. But your expression is neutral as you resist rubbing yourself to completion against the sheets; your face is carefully kept blank as your nipples brush against the rough fabric and your fingers clench the thin material in front of you. You do not feel anything like Goku's relief, you do not feel like smiling, in the danger of this inn where a storm is brewing.