The Gleam in His Eye

Author: Sharon
Pairing: 2x1, 1x2 implied
Rating: PG-13 (non-explicit lime)
Warnings: PWP (This is my first lime, but there's nothing too explicit.)
Disclaimer: The guys belong to Bandai/Sotsu/Sunrise.
Notes: Thank you to DC Logan for the beta.


The Gleam in His Eye

He's got that gleam in his eye. The one that tells me he's got more on his mind than what happened at work today. As I focus all of my attention on him, his lips part slightly and I see just the tip of his tongue reach up to run along the upper edge of his teeth. He closes his mouth, and a crooked smile lights up his face. I know that look. I know what this is: it's an invitation.

Not taking my eyes from him, I nod slowly. He begins to advance on me, and I retreat until I feel my back brush against the wall. My heart beats faster as I realize there's nowhere else to go. He has me. He's always had me. And if I have anything to say about it, he always will.

He takes another step and my eyes are distracted from his face by his braid, swinging seductively between his legs. As it moves back and forth, I'm reminded of how that braid almost has a life of its own. My eyes close for just a moment as I recall the times he's wrapped the hair around parts of my body. Parts that have known the touch of no one other than him. I can almost feel the gentle caress of his hair over my chest, my thighs, my...

He coughs loudly, and I blink my eyes open to see that he's stopped walking toward me. He doesn't want me lost in my thoughts. He wants me here, now, totally with him as he's about to give me something new to add to my collection of memories. He follows my gaze as I look back at his braid. He lifts it gently and takes off the tie that keeps his hair bound. I watch as he drops the tie to the floor. He knows I want desperately to pick it up, to claim it as a lover's token. I've worn it on my body before, modeling it for my private audience of one, and I can feel myself tense from that thought. As a mischievous grin lights up his face, I know that he remembers too.

Grasping his braid in both hands, he slowly begins to unravel it, his eyes never leaving my face. I must look strange, being caught so spellbound by his motions. His strong hands deftly untangle the mass of his hair. His fingers are long and thin, and so unlike mine. They move quickly and surely in a well-practiced pattern. He's done this so many times in his lifetime that he doesn't need to concentrate on what he's doing. But he does. He's making a show of it, because he knows what it does for me. It sets my heart racing again, awaiting that instant when all of his hair will be loose and flowing around him. I may not care about my own short hair, but I'm fascinated with his. It's one of the many differences between us that I find so alluring.

He's close enough for me to reach out and touch, but I don't. I can feel my body begin to tremble, and I'm anxious to see what he'll do next. He can see the desire in my eyes, and smell the anticipation on my skin. My breathing becomes more rapid as he puts a hand on the wall next to my face, trapping me there with his body. There's no escape, but I wouldn't deny him even if I could.

We both know he could take what he wants, demand my surrender, but he doesn't. It's not about having power over each other. The hand that reaches out to my face caresses me with a gentle touch, and the warmth of it matches what's in his heart. He lowers his eyes to my mouth, and I open it with the intention of saying his name. Before I can make any sound, he leans in slowly and brushes his lips against mine. His touch is light at first, but I know he won't be able to resist increasing the pressure. He pulls away slightly, and his tongue darts out to lick my lips. Top first, then bottom. Slowly, back and forth, tasting me.

He knows what effect that always has on me, and I respond with a moan of satisfaction. I hear his soft laugh and feel him lean in to claim my lips once again. I offer no resistance. He tilts his head to get a better angle, and I feel both of his hands on the side of my face, pulling me toward him. I give a little gasp at the change of position, and he takes full advantage of it.

The force of his lips on mine increases as he pushes deeply into my willing mouth. He moves his tongue in a deliberate way, as if he's memorizing the terrain. I feel delicate swipes over my teeth, and a tickling of the sensitive roof of my mouth, drawing out yet another quiet moan. I run my hands up his arms and grasp his shoulders, encouraging him to continue. As I reach for him with my own tongue, I stroke and suck lightly, mimicking an act I'm saving for later. He recognizes the movement, and pulls away from the kiss to smirk at me.

Blood rushes to my face, and I know I'm turning red under his careful scrutiny, but I don't look away. Instead I pull him back to me, slipping my arms about his waist as I lean back against the wall. He pushes my legs apart with one of his own, and we both realize how much we want each other as our lower bodies touch intimately. I don't know how much more of this gentle teasing I can take. I'm already using all of my self-control to allow him to set the pace. Every part of my body feels alive, and it's aching for him.

He must be feeling it too, this compulsion to be united in body, as we already are in everything else. Leaning in closely, he whispers next to my ear. "Here against the wall, or in our bed?"

His breath tickles the side of my face as he speaks and it makes me shiver. My lips part and I take a deep breath as I imagine what he has in mind. It's up to me to decide what will happen next. He plays the part of the pursuer, but in reality I'm the one who's in control. I will decide if it's going to be a quick and feverish ravishing, or a gentle worshiping of my body. After a moment's hesitation, I point to the bed. This time, comfort wins out over speed.

He pulls away from me, and I'm already missing the warmth of his body. He offers me his hand, and I reach out and grasp him, wrapping my fingers around his, squeezing them firmly yet gently. My simple gesture of love and trust earns me a heartfelt smile, one that brightens his entire face. The gleam in his eye is still there, but it's different now, implying passion rather than lust.

Guiding me to my side of the bed, he works silently and efficiently to remove all of my clothing. My body begins to tingle as he strips away the last barriers between my sensitive skin and his warm hands. I should feel vulnerable, standing naked before him while he remains fully dressed, but I don't. I look into his eyes, and I see the love he has for me. I have nothing to fear.

He pushes me down with a gentle touch on my shoulders, telling me not to go anywhere. No power on Earth could make me leave him tonight. I follow him with my eyes as he walks to the dresser on his side of the room. He bends over to open the lowest drawer, and I feel my breath catch as I'm reminded of what it's like when our positions are reversed. I press my lips together and breathe deeply, hoping he won't keep me waiting too long.

He straightens and turns to face me, holding a bottle and a towel close to his chest. He places them at the foot of the bed, and as he walks toward me, he begins to leisurely take off his own clothes. I watch enraptured as first his shirt, then his pants, then his underwear are tossed casually on the floor. He reaches back and lifts his hair away from his neck, letting it cascade about his shoulders and down his back. He tilts his head backwards and gives it a small shake. With a sly grin, he climbs onto the bed and starts crawling to my side. He takes his time, both to be certain that he doesn't trap his hair beneath his knees, as well as to further inflame my desire for him. I'm so close already, and he hasn't even touched me -- yet.

When he does, it's tender at first, becoming more insistent as our bodies fully awaken. A caress here, a squeeze there. As we begin to rock back and forth in an intimate embrace, I wonder if the neighbors downstairs can hear us? There's no mistaking the sound of our bedsprings moving with the motion of our bodies. As he moves faster I find that I no longer care. We're lost in the act of pleasuring each other, and nothing else matters. I hold out as long as I can, savoring the feeling of him above me, until I hear him whisper my name, telling me to let go. That's one order not even I could willingly disobey.

All of the tension building inside me is released, and my head jerks back against my pillow. I moan his name, blaming and thanking him at the same time for this incredible feeling. He chuckles softly and continues his movements without once breaking his rhythm. My legs tighten their grip around him, as if I could pull him even further into my body. His eyes close and he shudders suddenly, finding his own completion. I feel his movements speed up, as he attempts to wrest every last ounce of pleasure possible out of our joining.

Eventually, we break our embrace, and he falls to the bed, spent. He's lying on his back, still breathing hard, with his hair matted to his forehead. His eyelids begin to flutter, and I know he'll soon be asleep. He turns to glance at me, and I can see that the desire in his eyes is still there, but it's overshadowed by something else -- a look of calm, quiet satisfaction. I reach for the towel and clean him tenderly before getting out of bed. Knowing how much he enjoys the softness and warmth of the sheets, I pull the bedcovers over him as I place a feather-light kiss on his head.

I go into the bathroom to clean the remnants of our activities from my body, being careful not to make too much noise. As I turn to leave the room, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, created by a sliver of light seeping in through the ripped window shade. I barely recognize the face staring back at me. Gone is my normally serious expression. It's been replaced by something even more intense, something that he alone can put there.

As I return to our bed, I look down at him, curled up on his side with both hands clutching his pillow. I watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. I'm content to just sit here a while, listening to the small sounds he makes as he sleeps in our otherwise quiet room. I'll let him enjoy his rest, for now, because all too soon it will be over. I feel a smile that can easily rival one of his lighting up my own face, as I recall how just moments ago I saw that gleam -- that look of need and desire -- once again. Only this time, the gleam is in my eye.


The End


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