One of my favourite pairings...I wish more people agreed with me, because I am practically starved for fics about them. Hmmm, anybody willing to do a few fic-exchanges for this pairing as inspiration? Drop me a review and let me know, please??? Danke!
Disclaimer: not mine. Though really, it should be. ::le sigh::
Paths Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, / And sorry I could not travel both / And be one traveler, long I stood / And looked down one as far as I could / To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, / And having perhaps the better claim, / Because it was grassy and wanted wear; / Though as for that the passing there / Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black. / Oh, I kept the first for another day! / Yet knowing how way leads on to way, / I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence: / Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – / I took the one less traveled by / And that has made all the difference.
The Road Not Taken, by: Robert Frost
Desire. Not quite love, but an essential part of it. Desire is much like a door that opens to invite one into the heart.
And as the saying goes: 'one door closes, another opens'.
Miaka Yuuki was about to open a door.
Not that she knew that at the moment, all that she knew...was desire. And warm, familiar hands on her body.
She was on her stomach, pillow pressed against her cheek as her fingers curled and pulled at the silky sheet beneathe her. Both of her legs were trapped under one of his, but she didn't mind. The weight of his body cradling her against the futon was the most wonderful sensation in the world.
...Or maybe the second most wonderful sensation, she decided, as two fingers began to drag lazily up the length of her spine, causing her whole body to hum and shake in response. She arched up slightly as encouragement, only to have her soft smile turn into an even softer pout as that hand slowly pushed her back down.
"Ah-ah," he whispered, smoothing his palm between her shoulders as if stroking a ruffled cat. Miaka instantly settled beneathe him again, all the tension running out of her as she felt him shift and rise up onto his knees beside her. Her legs were free now but she didn't move.
This was where she wanted to be.
She nuzzled happily against her pillow, bringing her arms up around it and squeezing it contentedly to her chest.
Her hands woke him, fingers wrapped in and pulling at the cloth of his kimono as if she were cuddling against some kind of pillow. The sharpness of her breath worried him for one moment. That is, before he realized what was happening.
Miaka Yuuki...the Suzaku no Miko...was having one of those dreams.
One of THOSE dreams. His own breath quickened slightly before he could get a hold of himself.
Not you, he berated silently. She's not dreaming about you. Probably Tama-chan, he thought in quasi-bitterness, not quite catching hold of the things flitting through his mind, or really feeling them...
He had never seen anything quite so beautiful...
Or beyond his reach...
"I want you so much..." he whispered before he could stop himself, closing his eyes and pressing one hand forlornly against his eyelids. Baka, you do this to yourself.
He lowered his arm, propping himself up on one elbow as Miaka still cuddled against his side. His long, unbound hair spilled over his shoulder to layer upon the futon beneathe him, one traitorous lock falling down to settle across her throat. She curled more against him, whimpering in her sleep.
It was enough to still him, enough to make him...wish.
How many nights have I stayed up to watch her like this? There was no number for the hours. He had seen so many sides of her. Fear, hope, pain, joy, sadness, contentment, love...But this had to be the first time he had witnessed her transformed by passion.
He lifted one hand without realizing it, and watched it hover curiously over the gentle curve of her hip. For one second he thought about it, could even see it. But that was a line he couldn't cross---not while he loved her, not while she still loved Tamahome.
His hand dropped back down to his side.
And she's dreaming of him. I know it.
"Miaka..." he breathed, calling her to open her eyes. But she just shook her head mutely. Make me feel you, she thought. I want to feel you.
And it was as if he could read her mind, because he smiled lovingly, sliding one leg across hers to straddle her. It didn't matter that she was naked, or that he was naked and she could feel the line of his body hovering over the back of her knees. It only mattered that she knew---was certain---that this was where he wanted to be, too.
"So beautiful," he said, his hands ghosting up her thighs, making her feel beautiful and warm and everything. Because he was everything. His fingers swept lightly over her hips, her sides, causing her body to flutter and tighten in answer. His hands brushed across her shoulders, curving around her arms to grasp her hands as his body pressed flush into hers. She shivered at the feel of his warm breath in her hair, the heat of his skin against hers. He was so close that she felt him say her name, though it was little more than the movement of his lips.
...So close that she couldn't help but feel the way his body responded when she whispered his name back, helpless and so very happy to be.
I want you so much.
"I know," he whispered against her ear, hand stroking through her hair before he placed both palms down on the futon, one to either side of her head. Slowly he crawled down her body, the silky length of his hair dragging across her throat. Miaka bit her lip, crying out his name as he kissed the small of her back...
That was the sound of a door being flung open.
Not that Nuriko knew that at the moment. All he knew was...love. Warm, familiar hands on his body.
And that he was exactly where he wanted to be. Gathering her close, soon the warm caress of her breath on his throat lulled him to sleep.