Disclaimer: No ownership…blah de blah...bring on the man-sex!

Warnings: YAOI! With implied sexual relations between men! Angst! Oh the horror! THE HORROR!

Clandestine

By Hellagoddess

He was my lover.

No one knew, no one suspected, not even my closest companion, unaware of it to the day he died.

I finger the scarf around my neck and think of him. His piercing blue eyes and that enchanting smirk that made me shiver and ache, when he chose to gift me with it. I think of the fights we had, the raging arguments contained to mere whispers and angry gestures, lest someone hear us and discover our secret. Of the effort we made to hide our love. Our passion and overwhelming hunger for each other.

I think of his long silken hair and the way it used to feel clenched in my fist as he swallowed me down. I think of his perfect, i perfect /i body and the inhuman flexibility he was capable of.

I remember days spent, sweaty and panting, entwined with him on his bed, his hot mouth against mine, our scents mingling in the thick, heavy air and his sister beating on the door till he yelled at her to leave.

I remember fighting him and being defeated time and time again. I remember the look of sadness in his eyes at the lengths we had to go to, to hide our affection, our desire. The forged anger, the false hatred on the battlefield.

I remember his whispered apologies, the tender kisses and caresses he would place on my wounded body when he saw me the next. When we lay tangled and breathless from our pleasure, the guilt and pointlessness of it all welling up within us. The heat of his lips against my forehead as he moved inside me, the whispered endearments and little exclamations of affection as we twined together, my hands threading through his beautiful hair.

I remember thinking that his gentleness surprised me. And I remember the amused look on his face when I told him so. I remember his laugh. Not the harsh sound that he forced from his throat during the fight but the soft, elegant smile and the delicate, intoxicating sound that accompanied it.

I think about the clean subtle scent of his skin and the spicy taste of him. It makes my head swim when I remember all the things we did together. All the things I did to him. All the things he did to me. The boundless pleasure I felt at those smooth, exquisite hands. It makes me shudder to think I'll never feel that again. Never kiss his delectable mouth, never trail my hands along his creamy, flawless skin, never hear his long drawn out moan of completion and feel the erotic pulse of him inside me.

I remember the endless nights spent wandering afterwards, the pain in my chest and the lump in my throat, trying to conceal an engulfing grief that I could not tell anyone of, could not speak of, even to my closest friends.

So I keep my hair long. I think of him. I touch my scarf. I will always wear it and I will always remember him. My beautiful destroyer of worlds.

Hot tears well up from a deep, hidden place inside of me and I let myself cry for the first time in years. I choke on them as his name stumbles from between my lips in a stilted sorrow-soaked whisper and I bury my face in my hands, fingers clenched white in my lavender hair. I shake with the force of my anguish but all my mourning will not bring him back to me.

He is gone forever. My lover, my sweet Juunanagou.

And I am so lonely.