A/N: God, this sucks. I hate posting the last entry of a fic, but everything has to end sooner or later. My goal was twenty ficlets, and I ended up with twenty two. It's been really fun, guys, and I hope you all have enjoyed the ride as much as I have. I just love the reviews (all of them, even the ones that were just "Awww!" or incomprehensible fangasming), and you guys have been so awesome throughout the whole thing. -throws everyone cookies and plushies- I am not worthy! I am not worthy!
Anyway, this chappie does get a little on the citrus-y flavored side, so if Two Guys aren't your thing (or if you're under 16?), go away. But if that was the case, then why are you reading fanfiction for a BL series in the first place? Silly me, all you fangirls want some S/R fanservice, right? I will warn you, though, this is the first sort of lemon/smut thing I've ever written, so it's probably really bad. But I thought this was a really awesome way to wrap things up. Just to let you know, I'm working on a piece for Kingdom Hearts right now (Axel-centric, 358/2 Days timeline) and also some more Yuffentine stuff, so watch out for those. If I can ever beat my Ouran (KyoHaru!baby) fic into submission, that'll be posted too. Just visit my profile for updates and whatnot, and you should be good. But I digress. On with the show!
"Ritsuka," I heard Soubi's voice ask early in the morning. "Do you have to work today?"
"No," I replied. "I requested today off." I rolled over onto my side to face him. Today was our anniversary.
"What would you like to do?" he asked, running his hand over my upper arm. I snuggled into his chest, content to lie in his arms for the rest of the day. I knew Soubi wouldn't want to do anything grand or flashy today, he never did, but he always commemorated the day somehow. He sketched me one year, bought me a rather rare video game another. Last year, I had bought him a set of expensive oil pastels that he lusted after. I thought that perhaps this year he would like to have a new set of brushes or a new easel. The ones he was using currently were probably older than me.
"I dunno. Whatever you feel like doing."
"That is a dangerous reply," he said with a smile. He laid his fingertips on my stomach and raked them gently down, the classic sign of an amorous Soubi. I sometimes wondered why he did it, but the thought was often chased away by certain other things he would start doing to me.
"I'm okay with that, too," I replied, laying my hand over his and guiding it with a smile further down my torso to the place we both wanted it to be.
He smiled and took advantage of my willingness. We slowly kissed, touched, and pulled at one another's bodies. My Fighter knew me very well in this regard, as I did him. He knew, for example, that I liked to be beneath him and that kisses on my hips were a weakness of mine, and I knew that—although he'd rather die than admit it—he liked the piercing not on my skull more than I did. Soon enough, Soubi pulled away, panting slightly, and rummaged through the nightstand drawer for a condom. (That was another thing I often wondered about, but Soubi always insisted that he would be debasing me if he didn't use one.) We made love for a very long time, letting our hands and lips wander as our bodies rocked together gently. After an eternity, my release came, and Soubi, knowing by my sounds that I was happy and sated, allowed himself to follow, kissing me tenderly. As the day continued, we only left our bed to eat and clean ourselves. Late that night, when we had finished making love, I whispered, "Is there any sort of present you wanted for our anniversary, Soubi? I was thinking about that easel—it has to be older than me and—"
Placing two fingers on my lips to silence me, he replied, "You already gave me exactly what I wanted: a chance to show you exactly how much I love you and exactly what you are to me." I smiled and snuggled deeper into his arms as he added with a chuckle, "Although, a new set of paintbrushes might come in handy. Your vocal performance has been particularly inspirational tonight."