This is SeiferxSquall, so, yaoi. It's also non-explicit, but very much present, sex. (And have you noticed how you can have sex, in the UK anyway, before you're legally allowed to read it?) Enjoy:)
Seifer slips into the bed, shivering at my cold sheets and wrapping his arms tightly around me. "Fucking hell, Leonhart, are you ever warm?"
I don't respond and he smirks faintly, brushing his lips over my forehead, his tongue darting out to trace my scar; the mark there as much to claim me as his as a mark that he bested me. He knows me too well, his hands finding all the right places to make me moan under my breath.
His breath is hot against my ear as he moves there to whisper, his tongue coming out again, hot and damp, to taste my skin. He always seems... hungry for me, and I've never really had any reason to push him away. "I guess I'll have to warm us up, hmm, Squally-boy?"
He nips at my neck, not expecting a response, his hands catching mine as I reach for him, one hand pinning both my wrists to the bed. His mouth shifts from below my ear, leaving a warm wet trail down across my jaw, down my neck, to my collarbone where he sucks at my skin eagerly. I wonder what he thinks I taste like - whatever it is, he likes it.
As he nibbles and sucks and bites at my neck, kissing along my shoulder, one of his fingers finds its way inside me, making me cry out. Immediately, his mouth is on mine, quieting me as he slips another finger inside, twisting, stretching and caressing, the other hand still pinning mine. I moan into the kiss, and he can taste my breath, loving it as he loves every scent and sound and taste of mine.
A few impatient moments later and he's inside me, my hands free at last to hold onto him as he props himself up above me. I'm making little noises, whimpers or moans, hungry little sounds as needy as the mouth that descends on my neck again. He pulls up a bit, finding leverage, and begins to thrust inside me. Not slowly, not carefully, but hard and fast - as he knows I like it.
I'm certainly not cold now.
We generate more heat between us; friction and movement and pure sexual energy, until I'm sure that he's not only heated me up, but the sheets and the room and even the stretch of hallway outside the door.
He strokes me in time with his thrusts inside me, this time not teasing or prolonging it at all. He looks down at me, his eyes gazing into mine. He said once that this moment is the only time he can read me, and actually understand what my eyes are telling him. I feel naked, not just my body, but my thoughts, but I keep my eyes open to meet his, letting him read there all the things I could say, all the things I should say, all the things I will say someday.
But I can't keep my eyes open when the rush of bliss overtakes me, his body against mine the only thing anchoring me to this world. He kisses me, hard, hungry, crying his own release into my mouth to smoulder and burn against my own tongue.
Moments later, we're silent and still again, the sheets, now warm, tangled around our bodies, our bodies tangled around each other. Where we belong. "Welcome home," I breathe, the first words I've spoken to him tonight. I didn't speak as he came in, didn't speak when he went to get a shower, didn't bother to ask him about the mission. That belongs to tomorrow and the daylight. For tonight, in the dark, it's just being together again.
"Missed you," he grunts softly, tightening an arm around me. And that's all, enough for both of us, it's time to sleep now, and talking can wait for morning.
