Disclaimer: I do not own Card Captor Sakura and never will.
Author's note: Well, this fanfic is dedicated to Yeux Bleus (blue eyes). It was written quite some time ago, when I was thinking about someone special, but I only recently had the incentive to correct it and post it.
Watching him sleepShe watched him sleep.
She stared at his eyes, the pupils moving behind his closed eyelids and heard a sigh escape his lips. What was he dreaming about? Was he somewhere else, in another country, in another space? Was he lost in the past? Reliving his past life, maybe? Was he dreaming of the future? Of hope? Of…Love?
She looked at his long lashes, which created half moons on his cheekbones. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen, dark and mysterious. Those eyes could see straight to your core. They were bottomless, their intensity and wisdom betraying the age of his soul.
Her gaze slid along an aristocratic nose towards pale pink lips. Such sweet lips. She longed to taste them, longed to run her tongue along the soft skin and past them to the dark cavern of his mouth. She could already taste him; dark and rich, like pure chocolate, melting over her tongue, making her want more.
Her eyes slid downward still, following the curve of his neck where a darker spot of skin rested. A birthmark. Little specks of mocha-coloured skin formed a strange circle near his ear, partly hidden from her sight, waiting for her to kiss it, to lick and nibble at the sensitive skin.
His chest moved with the gentle rhythm of his breathing, even and calm. She gazed at the expanse of pale skin, her eyes tracing the lines of slightly defined muscles hungrily. There was no moonlight, but his skin had an unnatural luminescence to it, a glow that came to those blessed with the gift or, for some, curse, of powers.
His breathing changed and he shifted slightly, a frown marring his face for an instant to be instantly dispelled as he settled down, once again in a deep slumber. Had he felt her presence? No… He couldn't…
He now lay on his back, a black sheet covering him from the waist down, one arm above his head, the other laying near him. He looked so… delicious….like this. He looked like pleasure of the flesh, like sweet touches and passionate kisses. His hair blended with the pillow, the dark bluish locks only a contrast by their texture. How silky those strands looked.
Even though the sheet hid the rest of his body from her view, she knew what she'd find. He had strong and long legs and, if she recalled well, a very nice butt, she thought with a naughty smile. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked him over slowly.
Her feelings ran deeper than lust, however. As much as she lusted for him, as much as she burned for his touch, she loved him. She loved his eyes and the way he moved. She cherished his laughs and his smiles. She admired his knowledge and intelligence. She had fallen for him. He was everything she wanted, everything she needed.
God, she longed to crawl into his bed and wait for him to pass his strong yet tender arms around her, hugging her to his warm body, his hot breath over the back of her neck. Would he spoon her body to his, his arms tight around her body? Would he snuggle up to her, laying his head on her chest, more like the child he was never able to be and less like the man he was forced to become?
God, she was in such a mess; lusting after a man as he slept, a man who didn't know she was there. On this plane of existence, she was only a thought, an energy. Nothing more. She was her own unconscious, the creation of her blatant desire and love for the man sleeping soundlessly under her watchful eyes. Each night she came back, never able to stop herself from doing so, and each morning, she would forget coming to this plane, forget spending the night watching him. Every morning she would wake up with an impression of emptiness, of having forgotten something important, of being more tired than she should.
And each night, the same cycle would start again, but each night she would be more tired, as each night she would stay longer to watch him sleep, until, she, herself, went back into her own body to get some rest. Soon, soon she would have to stop going to see him like this. She would have to stop watching the slow rise of his chest, stop staring at him as he slept before her.
Vulnerable.
Open.
Untouchable, so painfully untouchable.
Yes, untouchable. She couldn't even touch him, for he would only feel a chill running over his skin, and she would not feel the warmth of his body. He was out of her reach, in numerous ways. His heart didn't long for her as her heart did for him. How easily can people be forgotten sometimes... How easily can a heart be broken… She would never feel his love, or his touch...Never…
But, in this place, on this plane of existence, she could watch him sleep, and that had to be enough.
End of story
Hello everyone. Thank you for reading this short one-shot. I hope that you enjoyed. If you did, review please. If you didn't, review all the same? Lol, nope, I'm not begging. Reviews are to an author what blood is to a vampire after all. (For reference, look at "weird" in the dictionary; you'll find my picture :P )
Thank you :)