Started: 08/12/2014
Finished: 08/25/2015
Revision: 10/09/2014
Mood Music: Can't take my eyes off of you~ Cary Brother
Notations: Adult AU, Established relationship
WARNING: Extremely Self indulgent. This one is an odd piece that I wanted to write but didn't have a story to fit it in. Mention of male nakedness, non sexual.
Repletum
Chapter 03: Sight
In which Midousuji worships the grossest things possible
Beauty is whatever gives joy~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
The moonlight streamed through the hazy windows, giving him an unearthly look, his skin was pale, and smooth, stretched over his figure, like an unpainted canvas.
Midousuji stared at him, eyes dark and intense in the quiet room.
His eyes followed the curve of his exposed torso, seeing the slight muscle beneath the soft skin.
He really was beautiful.
Midousuji growled at his thoughts, and he slit his eyes at the sight before him.
Sakamichi looked happy even in his sleep. It was annoying and gross how such stupid things made Midousuji hold his breath, make his heart do that painful leap and fill him with that certain lightness.
He liked looking at Sakamichi in the quiet of the night, when he was still, and breathing softly, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheek, and lips slightly open; puffs of warm air escaping and filling the room with the essence of Sakamichi.
Midousuji reached out at pulled the sheets a little, until the man's narrow hip bones were revealed into the moonlight, and Midousuji pinpointed on it, eyes noticing a red mark on the slope, obviously the work of his over eager hungry mouth from their earlier actions.
Midousuji grinned madly at it.
Sakamichi shifted in his sleep, throwing out an arm and turning his head to the side.
Midousuji liked the new position, and he pulled the rest of the sheet, exposing the slim naked figure of Sakamichi to the eyes of the man sitting there.
He knew every mark of Sakamichi's body, every scar from his foolish clumsy falls; he knew where he was soft, and where he was hard with trained muscles. He knew where to touch to make Sakamichi cry out to the heavens, where he was ticklish, and where he was warm; he knew it all. He had memorized the lines of his body, the dips of his figure, and the curves that sloped down. And yet he always craved more, always knew that the more he dug, the more he found out, the more he unearthed about the man.
Midousuji moved suddenly, long limbs reaching over and hovering closer to the sleeping man.
He started leisurely, his quiet ritual, a secret tradition that he did in the dead of the night when the moon was high in the dark sky. The beams of holy light would stretch out over the endless deep space, as if attracted to the figure of his lover laying exposed, enveloping him like a clock.
Tonight, he slid his bare hand up a smooth calf, lightly lined with old scars, faded with time, strength hidden by the softness of his skin, and Midousuji rejoiced in having that strength serve him these days. The hand continued up, over a relaxed thigh, stopping on the spot of marred skin, where he had marked his presence earlier. His thumb roved over the mark, tempted to bite into the flesh, to dig his teeth into the man's hip bone again so that when he wasn't around, Onoda would still feel his presence.
He didn't cave to the desire, eyes flickering up as Onoda shifted just a little. Midousuji ran his hand further up, long fingers feeling the slope up to his waist, feeling the indent of his torso, trying to make his hands remember the feel of him.
He was hovering over him now, and his hand came up, brushing past a slow beating heart, to his neck. He could smell him, the sweet scent of his sweat, with lust bleeding the edges. Sometimes, Midousuji wanted to dig his nails into him; to claw his way into the man, to find the source of his heat and live there, crawl into it and curl into the core of his soul. It was a gross thought, a disgusting desire, and he would never hurt him, but even now, as he caressed the frame of his jaw, hands big enough, fingers long enough to cup his face, he felt the want grow in him. But perhaps, Sakamichi was a mystery better left unsolved. He sometimes wants to just keep digging and hope he never found the treasure. Or perhaps he had already found the richness, and he continued looking for the pleasure of searching.
Sakamichi let out a noise, and tensed slightly, signs that he would wake soon. Midousuji leaned away slightly, not wanting to startle the man.
Blue, always bright eyes opened, fogged with slight confusion until he spotted the pale face of his lover in the dark room.
"Akira-kun?"
Sakamichi eyes were blurry with sleep, as he looked at him, "What are you doing awake?" He squinted at the clock on the nightstand, "It's three thirty in the morning."
Midousuji said nothing, merely sitting there on his haunches, staring.
He liked watching Sakamichi sleep, but he loved watching him when he was awake, the way his eyes shone life, and love, the flush of his cheeks, and the quirk of his lips.
"Don't move." he commanded, and then pressed his ear against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, a sound that he needed to hear to drift off to sleep.
Sakamichi shifted underneath him, and Midousuji glanced up and glared. "I said don't move."
He laughed, the sounds floating in the too quiet room, suddenly made the moonlight brighter. "Akira-kun…"
Midousuji just leaned his head against his chest again, and Sakamichi let him do as he pleased. By now, Midousuji assumed, he was used to his odd habits, the strange things he did.
It was quiet once again save the breaths of air, the heartbeat in his ear, and Midousuji wished that he could match it with his own. He had never tried that before.
"Akira-kun?"
Midousuji shifted his head, so he could catch the man's eyes. They looked dark blue in the faint light of the moon, "What?"
Sakamichi reached out a hand, and touched the end of Midousuji's bangs, just a slight touch.
"I'm going to miss you."
Midousuji closed his eyes and sat up. The reminder was a cruel jolt of reality, piercing into the lovely haze like a beam of a flashlight.
He said nothing, and moved to lay down on the pillows next to Sakamichi, looking up to the ceiling. Tomorrow seemed so close, the hours had gone by so fast, and soon dawn would come up on the day of his departure, the sun would rise like any other day.
"I know." he finally said, and knew that Sakamichi would understand what he meant, that he would miss him too, so much that the insignificant word like miss couldn't possibly properly interpret what it would feel like to leave him.
"I know it's only for a few weeks but…" Sakamichi said, quietly, whispering as if afraid that if he spoke too loud he would break something, "I can't imagine it… Not being with you."
It was a foolish sentiment, because they had lived most of their lives apart, lived lives devoid of each other for many, many years and had lived just the same; perhaps not happy, but at least alive.
But Midousuji understood him, "Yeah. It's going to be gross." Because gross was probably the closest word to define the separation.
Sakamichi laughed again, full of that fondness and joy he was loved for, and Midousuji could feel his warm gaze on him. His looks always ranged dramatically, from the soft glow of admiration, the searing glance of adoration, to the intense fire of lust, it made Midousuji burn because it didn't matter what look it was, all that mattered was that his eyes were on him, and only him.
"Yeah, it's going to be gross." he replied, and Midousuji could hear his smile. He moved closer, bringing his hand to intertwine with Midousuji's limp one pressed against the mattress.
He didn't move away, not like in the beginning when the fear of being touched made him flinch, that sinking terror made him so afraid of feeling again.
He could feel the warmth from his skin, from his body, and Midousuji closed his eyes, his tense shoulders relaxing.
'Come with me,' he wanted to say, but it caught in his throat, choking him. The desire welled up inside. Sakamichi was right. It was only a couple of weeks, and they would be together again. Two weeks to fully immerse himself into training, to win, and fulfill a lifelong dream; to keep a promise. But who he was now, and who he would be after the Tour De France was going to change, was going to break something, for the better or… for the worse.
The first time he had broken, no one was there, everything was empty and gross. There was only one path, one bridge that span through the endless darkness, one way, forward, forward, forward. It was the only way to go. Sometimes he would lose sight of that; the path would be obscured by the greed that lived in his heart, victory would blind him of the path, despair made him lose his way, loneliness bind his feet.
Sakamichi had been there, one time, long ago, when he needed to be reminded that he rode for something, that he had a goal, he had a path. Forward.
Even now, that path still illuminated his mind, his life, and Sakamichi had joined him, and pushed, had reminded him that he was not alone.
His mother was there, always bright at the finish line, always ahead, forward, but now, he had someone behind, someone who chased him, also always there, just as bright, pushing him, his presence sometimes gentle, sometimes suffocating, but always, always there.
He tightened his grip on their hands, whispering his wish into the night, "Come with me."
Sakamichi leaned in closer, until he could feel his breath on his shoulder.
"I can't, Akira-kun, you told me not to go. You need to train."
Midousuji grit his teeth, grinding on his words, "I changed my mind."
Sakamichi didn't laugh, because he knew how real, how truly afraid he really was.
"I'll be there the day the race begins, Akira-kun."
He stiffened, fear making his heart clench, pain shooting through his spine.
He remembered someone else that had promised to see him win, had held him close, and he closed his eyes to the fear, trying to focus on the feel of Sakamichi's hand in his, of his breath on his skin, of his smell in the air, the sound of his heartbeat. He tried to calm himself as fear ripped through him. It wasn't enough, it wasn't sufficient. He had to see.
He turned his head, his eyes dilating in the light.
He was there, like always, eyes bright in the moon, watching him, like always. And the fear edged away, faded a little at the sight of him.
If Midousuji could see him, as long as he was in his sight, it was okay. He was there, he was.
He pulled Sakamichi close, winding his arms around him, trying to swallow him in.
Sakamichi went, compliant and eager, whispering his name, full of understanding, full of love.
He wanted to keep Sakamichi in his sight, always, but he knew that Sakamichi lived in his shadow, behind him, hands outstretched to catch him when he faltered, to push him when the weight of his thoughts, his insecurities, his guilt, made him stop.
He had to trust, that he didn't have to look back, that Sakamichi was at his back, by his own will, so he could focus on going forward, on making it to the finish line.
That was love, the trust between them, but doubt still infected him like a deadly disease, like a blade through his heart.
"I'll be there."
It was said; a promise, a swear, a dream.
Midousuji buried his face in the neck of the smaller man, tightening his hold until he knew that Sakamichi was probably uncomfortable, but he couldn't care.
Sakamichi always kept his promises.
Always.
They stayed intertwined like that, until the white light of the moon turned into the golden rays of the sun. Sakamichi fell asleep, his even breaths ruffling the hairs along Midousuji's neck.
Sleep pulled at him, heavy and constant. He fought it, because it would be awhile before he could do this again, hold him close, and breathe him in. Sleep prevailed in the end, his eyelids dropping, his mind turning numb.
There was a thought that filled him, that calmed him, if only a little.
It was Sakamichi that chased him, and it was Sakamichi that followed. He didn't have to worry, because it was Sakamichi that made sure that he never lost sight of Midousuji. He didn't have to worry, all he had to do was look forward, move forward, because he knew that, Sakamichi would never lose sight of him.
He closed his eyes and peace filled him, because no matter what direction, forwards or backwards, he was safe.
He was loved.
And he should never lose sight of that.
Eh…? Yeah, it was a sentimental night.
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