Note: I promised my friend fluff. I shall give her fluff. This isn't nearly as cracky as my first fic, which was a little random and out of character (Probably because I started that story with Yuki and Shuichi as girls) so hopefully it'll get better reception.

I wanted to do a stream of consciousness exercise, as well. I don't do very much with that genera…And Yuki's mind is literally my favorite to invade in the history of invading minds. He's a writer, and I feel that his mind links things together very easily. He's the kind of person that can go from thinking about what he's going to do the next day, to thinking about the meaning of life, only in a very round-about way. With lots of stops and ponderings along the way. ^_^

'Pinkette' is a nonsense word created by me. I needed a word so I could turn Shuichi's hair color into an epithet. I like epithets. I think them quite sexy and shiny. Though I do try hard not to overuse them.

Dedicated to: Neko_Rocker_Kat; Lynn's beta, best friend, and the Yuki to her Shuichi.

Pairing: Yuki/Shuichi

Background Noise: Hiro/Suguru if you tilt your head to the side and really want to see it

Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, swearing, nonsensical analogies

Summary: Three o'clock in the morning, and Yuki cannot sleep. Shuichi's head has fallen off his pillow. Yuki stares at him, his face obscured by hair and sheets, and thinks. About life, and about Shuichi.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation. Yuki, Shuichi, and all other characters and concepts belong to Maki Murakami and her associates.


In the Twilight Hours

Summer has snuck up on Japan without anyone's permission, sometime between midnight and three AM. It had been a comfortable seventy-five degrees when the two members of the Uesugi-Shindou residence retired sometime just past twelve. In the ensuing three hours, the temperature somehow skyrocketed ten degrees, closing in on fifteen, and the room is balmy and not at all comfortable. Yuki woke up sweating, and so uncomfortable that he forced himself out of bed and down the hall to adjust the thermostat. He also opened every available window (Thankfully, there was still some semblance of a breeze out there…) before crawling back into bed to wait out the half-hour it would take the air conditioner to kick in.

He thinks about retreating to his office to type, but he's in-between projects now and his newest plot isn't even fully formulated. If he were in the midst of a deadline, things would be different. But he has a month before Mizuki even expected an outline, so there's no point.

His attention is drawn to Shuichi when the vocalist shifts down in his sleep, his pink head thudding onto the mattress. Shuichi is not a heavy sleeper, but he doesn't sleep lightly by any means. The gentle thump onto the pillow top mattress is hardly enough to rouse him. Instead, he kicks the blanket off in his sleep (The weren't really on him anymore in the first place; only covering him from the knees down.) and curls one knee up to his chest, both hands locked in close to his ribs by that leg.

In all seasons except for winter, Shuichi's sleep attire can barely be called clothing. An undershirt and a pair of cotton shorts that he doesn't wear anything underneath. The shirt has ridden up, and the shorts down, and an entire hip is exposed. Shuichi inches closer to Yuki's hip, which is near the bedpost due to the fact that the novelist is sitting up in bed. Unconsciously seeking a cocooning feeling without covers, Shuichi rests his head against Yuki's hip and sighs.

Yuki's left hand finds its way to Shuichi's head, where he threads the pink locks through his fingers and strokes. Shuichi's hair, though treated and dyed so many times, is very soft as it slides through his fingers. Fingers that are calloused in certain places because of how he holds a pencil. A hand that is still getting over a terrible case of carpal tunnel that left him unable to type for two weeks.

It wasn't Yuki's first case of carpal tunnel, of course. The first case had been back in junior year at university. His first novel had required all of his free time, and being a busy college student that meant he almost never got a break from typing. The pain had been awful; he couldn't turn his wrists more than a few degrees in each direction without a shoot of pain going up to his elbow and back down to his fingers.

Unfortunately, once you have it, it never quite goes away. Or, at least that's what his doctor likes to tell him whenever the condition suddenly reoccurs. The only sure-fire way, she claims, to make sure it doesn't return is to limit the amount of typing he does.

Oh, that would never happen.

Telling Uesugi 'Yuki' Eiri not to type, even when there is no immediate deadline, is like telling a fish not to swim. It's like telling a bird not to chirp, or a dog not to bark.

It's like telling Shindou Shuichi not to sing.

He smirks at the thought. Telling Shuichi not to sing would be impossible. Not only is it his occupation, his job…Singing is his hobby, his pastime, his profession, his life. Music is truly and forever will be Shuichi Shindou's first true love.

Yuki wonders if it's possible to be jealous of sound. The thought is only there for a second, and it's enough to make him laugh about it. Then he decides it's ridiculous to be jealous of music.

No, he's simply envious of it.

Envious of the fact that music can make Shuichi happy without even trying to. Shuichi is never happier than when he's making music. When he's sitting there strumming his guitar, his soft smile is the most beautiful and angelic thing anyone's eyes have ever had the fortune of laying eyes on.

When he sits at his keyboard, he slowly runs his fingers over the keys, pinging each one just to hear the note. The soft, stroking movements of his long, slim fingers are almost erotic. He and the keyboard make love as they create the music Shuichi so loves.

And when Shuichi sings—oh, when he sings. It seems as though he's living with every inch of his body. His smile could power a city for a year; any woman alive could die happy from just seeing the way his body moves when he's really into a song. His voice would make angels weep in jealously. And that's just when he's onstage.

Yuki likes it when Shuichi sings at home best. He doesn't reserve anything. Like a giddy little kid, he sprawls on the bed and bounces his feet to the tune of some eighties pop song that he can't even sing intelligibly to because it's in English. But he'll try, and he'll sound beautiful anyway, belting, "Streeeet-uuuu liiiighteee pepolpooool!"

It's not uncommon for Shuichi to come home and go take a shower, and for Yuki to be treated to an exclusive sneak-peak of whatever Back Luck's next big song is. Nor is uncommon for Shuichi to slide out of the bedroom after having dressed, still singing and dancing. He'll hop around the kitchen, munching on pocky and spinning in circles as he hums rhythms and thinks up lyrics.

Even Shuichi's talking voice is musical. It lilts softly, it rises on certain words. When he's tired, his soft mumbles are more like humming than speech. Sometimes, hums are all he communicates with.

Sometimes, he hums in his sleep.

Yuki looks down and stares at the pinkette with his head against his hip. Shuichi's face is obscured by pink hair and white sheets, and Yuki can feel more than hear the soft noises emanating from his lover's chest. Shuichi's humming softly; so lowly it's almost a purr. Yuki rests his hand against Shuichi's sweat-dampened nape, tickles softly, and watches as Shuichi unfolds and shifts, flipping over onto his back and bringing a pillow with him. He hugs it to him, wedging it between his chest and chin.

He lets out a hum and pulls his knees up, sliding along the sheets in the process. The shorts are caught by the sheet, and they're pulled down so the other hip is now exposed as well. The 'V' of his abdomen is peeking out, now, and so is a small bit of pink flesh…

Yuki, in order to preserve his lover's honor, does not let his eyes stare for too long. He diverts his attention.

He's not entirely sure what it is. He'll gladly stare at Shuichi when he's awake; examine every inch of him until Shuichi squirms and accuses him of 'perving'. Yuki tells him he only stares because Shuichi invites it with the clothes he wears. Some of it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

But when Shuichi is asleep…there's something angelic and innocent about him. When Shuichi's asleep, even though he chooses his sleep attire when he's awake, it's not his fault that the shorts ride down or the shirt rides up. Yuki just feels impure when he stares for too long; as though he's dishonoring a fallen angel. He's been known to carefully reach over and pull up Shuichi's shorts. Or, if Shuichi fell asleep without any clothes on in the first place, he'll pull the blankets up to at least Shuichi's waist.

Shuichi shifts again. The humming has stopped, replaced by a whining noise, and Yuki glances over to make sure Shuichi's okay. He has nightmares sometimes.

The shorts are now officially down way too far. They're providing no decency for his prone lover, and Yuki's so preoccupied with the best course of action for pulling them up that he doesn't realize the lump against Shuichi's hip is moving, very slightly. He become aware only when Shuichi's stomach jumps with a caught breath and his legs fold upward, encouraging his shorts to abandon their post as covering. Shuichi's most sacred area is exposed to the humid night air, and the pinkette shivers because of it.

A musical moan leaves his mouth.

Yuki very suddenly needs a cigarette like nothing on this earth.

He slips his legs out of bed, grabbing his pack and turning away from Shuichi so he won't be tempted by looking, then slips the cigarette into his mouth and lights up. He takes a deep drag, blowing towards the window so it won't bother Shuichi.

At first, Yuki doesn't think anything of it when the bed shifts oddly. He thinks Shuichi's turned over again. But then there's the distinct feeling of something sitting up and staring at him, and eventually, he hears the sleep-fogged voice mutter, "I wish you wouldn't. I can smell it in my sleep."

Yuki looks back. Shuichi's hair is completely mused; he's staring blearily at the author. His legs are folded against his chest, and one hand is rubbing at his eye. The other violet eye is staring with distaste at Yuki's cigarette.

Deciding both eyes need attention, Shuichi presses the heels of his hands into them and sighs, "Gods, Eiri, what time is it? You should be asleep, babe." He drags his fingers down his face, stretching it into something temporarily and comically grotesque, and stares at Yuki with one eye from between the middle and ring fingers of his left hand. "Or did you wake up with a craving?"

Yuki shakes his head and stubs it out, only half-smoked. He slides it back into the pack, feeling as Shuichi comes to lean against his back, cheek against his nape and arms around his shoulders. He remarks, "It was way too hot in this house. You'd kicked the blankets off both of us and I was still roasting. I had to turn the air conditioner on."

"Feels alright now," Shuichi mumbles. He kisses Yuki's neck and Yuki can tell by the way he leans left slightly that he's examining the alarm clock on Yuki's nightstand. "Hmm. Quarter 'till four. What time did you wake up?" He shifts and his knees are suddenly snug on either side of Yuki's hips. He's still hard; Yuki can feel it pressing against him. But Shuichi doesn't seem to realize it, at least not for the moment, and Yuki isn't going to point it out. Yet.

"Two-thirty, three, something like that," Yuki remarked, sighing. "Since you're awake now, can I finish my cigarette?"

"If you want to so badly, I don't care," Shuichi mutters. He may not understand the addiction, because the closest he's ever gotten to one is his current obsession with pocky and a period in high school during which he chewed mint gum constantly. But Yuki likes that he at least tries to understand and sympathize. The discomfort for Shuichi is something that Yuki never overlooks, despite appearances, and he knows the pinkette doesn't like the fact that himself and everything around him reeks of cigarette smoke. Over the last year, it's seeped into the very roots of his hair. But he's finally started to become immune to it, too.

Yuki knows Shuichi feels embarrassed about it, especially because so many people find the smell unpleasant and he's a very contact-oriented person. His sister Maiko had as-of-late been very displeased when Shuichi would visit and she could smell him from across the room. However, Shuichi tries to work around making Yuki feel bad about it.

It's okay, Shuichi will sometimes say. Because Hiro smokes so he either can't tell or doesn't mind the smell of Shuichi's clothing and hair. Suguru has the same second-hand smoking aroma, so he has no room to talk either. K smokes cigars, so none of them smell bad compared to him.

Sakano plugs his nose.

Yuki takes out the pack and lights the same cigarette again. Meanwhile, Shuichi lays back against Yuki's pillow, rests one arm behind his head. The other arm is across his stomach for a short amount of time, before a small amount of shifting occurs and he moves his hand down his abdomen. It's a slow movement, and Yuki realizes Shuichi's been running almost entirely subconsciously. He's aware enough to make semi-intelligent conversation, but the 'reservations and inhibitions' part of his mind is thoroughly shut down for the night, not to awaken until a decent hour.

"You're a brat," Yuki remarks, pulling from his cigarette even as his golden eyes follow that hand. "What is this, some kind of punishment and reward system?" It was entirely anticipated that Shuichi would someday start asking him to quite smoking, and a few months ago he had. They had an awful argument about it, though it stopped Shuichi from asking again for several weeks, he hasn't truthfully stopped pestering Yuki about it since.

"Hmm," Shuichi mumbles out, smiling. There's something sleepy and slow, but so sensual about that noise and his movements. A surprisingly gentle ballad from a musician known for loudness. "Continue smoking and watch, or stub it out and participate. Seems reasonable to me."

Yuki grumbles and takes another drag off the cigarette. Shuichi hooks his thumbs under his shorts and pulls down, kicking his legs up into the air and slinking both long legs out of the orange fabric. Then he slyly reaches over Yuki's shoulder and drops them into his lap.

"Are you really gonna ignore me for that cancer stick?" Shuichi pouts. He sits up again and nestles his chin between Yuki's shoulder and neck. He's got a pointy little chin, and he uses this to his advantage by digging it in. He mumbles, "Come on, Eiri…I'm awake now."

"No you're not," Yuki snorts. Shuichi's pronouncing his words very slowly to avoid slurring, and his movements are incredibly languid. He's still half asleep, and probably won't be able to wake himself up fully. Shuichi is not happy with this reply, it seems, because he makes a tch and rolls to the other end of the bed, almost falling off as he clumsily tries to extricate himself from the queen-size bed.

Yuki snubs out the cigarette, watching as Shuichi progresses slowly around the bed. The vocalist looks rather…adorable, if Yuki allows himself to use the cutesy word. He moves his legs back onto the bed, anticipating what Shuichi is about to do and wanting to be in a comfortable position to receive a lapful of pinkette. Shuichi sighs (What was the point of getting off the bed if Yuki was just gonna roll back on?) and lifts himself onto the foot of the bed.

"This mean you're gonna do the work?" Yuki wonders aloud as Shuichi crawls up Yuki's body until he's straddling his hips. Shuichi usually dislikes this position, because he says his thighs aren't strong enough to handle the constant up-down movement. Yuki likes to counter that, if the brat climbed stairs more often than he took elevators and if they used this position more often (Which Yuki wouldn't mind at all) his legs would adjust.

"Well…this was my idea." Shuichi smiles and takes Yuki's hand, moving it between his legs. He bites his lower lip, his breath hitching, when Yuki takes the hint and brings Shuichi alive with slow touches and strokes. He closes his eyes and continues, "So…I guess I should do the work…" then, softly, "Oh…Eiri…"

Now Yuki knows Shuichi's not entirely conscious. The brat's usually so high-strung and argues against doing anything he doesn't want to. But right now he almost seems to be in an 'anything goes' mindset. Too slap-happy and relaxed to argue, no doubt.

Shuichi looks up. Yuki finds himself staring into violet pools of adoration. A pink tongue darts out over Shuichi's lips, wetting them and letting out a breath he's been holding. One tiny noise escapes Shuichi's throat as Yuki gently strokes him. In the quiet room, in the middle of the night, it's Shuichi's instinct to let his voice be hushed. He can't bring himself to raise it above a whisper and pleasured sounds escape his mouth. "Hah…E-Eiri…oh…"

Yuki can feel Shuichi's stomach muscles quivering. He reaches into the nightstand to hunt for the item he needs, but Shuichi mumbles, "What, no foreplay?" and leans down slightly, so rest his arms and head on Yuki's chest. His favorite part is the foreplay. The kissing, the touching, the whispers.

Especially the whispers.

It's strange, because at the beginning of the relationship, he really hated them. Yuki would talk dirty to him, heatedly whispering, "Yeah, you like that don't you? My little dirty whore. Gonna ride your ass, Shuichi." It used to really turn him off, but he didn't tell Yuki that. He'd been incredibly eager to please back then, in the early days. He'd been so terrified of Yuki finding someone different to occupy his time, and leaving Shuichi altogether, that he daren't utter complaint.

But then the whispers started to chance. Subtly, at first. They went from lewd statements of pure, carnal lust, to those of possessiveness. "You're mine, Shu…I'm never gonna let anyone else touch you…"

And Shuichi started replying. "Oh God…yes, Eiri, I'm yours…I'm yours!" as he panted desperately, his body flushing pink and his skin tingling with the contact Yuki was lavishing on him. They'd roll over and over, kissing and nipping while tan legs wrapped around a pale back and held on for dear life.

Nowadays, Yuki's whispers are almost tender. He rests his lips against Shuichi's neck and kisses there, whispering, "You're so beautiful…Man, I love you, you baka…"

And with a gasp, Shuichi's reply is always, "I love you too…"

Yuki stares at the pink-haired annoyance in his lap and remarks, "It's too early for foreplay."

Shuichi gives a displeased sound that pierces Yuki's eardrums, and the blond sighs before pulling Shuichi in for a kiss. He roots around in the nightstand and eventually comes up with what he needs. Shuichi seems pleased with the kiss, obviously thinking he's gotten his way, and presses against Yuki.

Originally, Yuki had planned to be devious. He was going to pull Shuichi in for a short, steamy kiss then announce, "There was your foreplay, Shuichi." Before reaching back and penetrating his lover with a finger to begin preparing him. But things with Shuichi never go as planned. Less than ten seconds into the kiss, he abandons the lubricant he pulled from the drawer and clutches the back of Shuichi's head, pulling him in very close and looping an arm around his waist.

"How do you always get your way?" Yuki inquires. They roll, so Shuichi is now on his back against the mattress with his legs around Yuki, kneeling above him. They've splayed diagonally across the bed, somehow, but Yuki doesn't care as he continues to ravish Shuichi's willing mouth. He has a feeling that Shuichi doesn't care either.

"Because you can never say no to me," Shuichi breaths, his lips puffy and wet. He reaches his tongue out and licks his lips as Yuki bends to mark his neck. There's vague protest from Shuichi, something about how someone's going to notice. But Yuki doesn't pay attention, and Shuichi's protests are only half-hearted anyway. There's nothing he likes more than for Yuki to mark him as his own. He gasps as his lover's canines dig into the soft flesh of his neck. He's so sensitive there, and it sends shocks from his neck to his toes, which curl.

Yuki, in turn, loves to hear Shuichi gasp his name. There's just something about the two syllables of his first name when they're uttered through the red, kiss-plumped lips of Shuichi Shindou.

They sound like music. Like an excerpt of angel song.

"Eiri, Eiri, Eiri…!" No matter how many times he says it, Yuki will never tell him to stop. This is the only thing, out of the many annoying repetitive things his lover does, that he will never tell him to stop. And the way he's whispering the two syllables desperately as Yuki sends shockwaves down his body via nips to his neck and collarbone?

Well, it's better than any pop song Yuki's ever heard.

Nimble fingers are at his pajama pants suddenly, undoing the buttons and gripping Yuki firmly. Shuichi strokes him a few times, bringing him to full life, and Yuki grunts against the pinkette's lips. Shuichi breaks away, with a smile on his lips, and rolls them back over.

"What're you doing?" Yuki asks, as Shuichi sits up, catlike, and reaches his arms high above him in a languid stretch. He's just woken up, true, but this stretch is an excuse to arch erotically and tease in the process. Yuki both loves and hates that Shuichi knows how to do this so well.

"I said I'd do the work, didn't I?" Shuichi remarks, taking the lube which is still on top of the nightstand. He digs a fingernail under the cap and opens it with a pop that sounds like a gunshot in the room filled with nothing but shuffling fabric and heated whispers. Shuichi even jumps in surprise at the loud noise he creates, and Yuki chuckles lowly.

"Startled, brat?"

"Yeah," Shuichi says, either not knowing or not caring that Yuki is taking a subtle jab at him. He stares at the bottle for a moment, like a dog that can't quite decide if the source of a shocking noise should be trusted, even if it promises a tasty treat. Eventually, Yuki takes the bottle and squeezes some onto the tips of his own fingers. He sits up against the headboard, cups the swell of Shuichi's bum with the unoccupied hand, and enters Shuichi with one finger.

Shuichi shivers delicately, biting his lip. He spreads his legs slightly, giving Yuki easier access, and digs his nails into Yuki's hips. They kiss again, as Yuki cradles Shuichi to him and prepares him. Shuichi whispers, "I said…I said I'd…"

"I'll let you do the hard labor, Shu. Trust me," Eiri mumbles against his ear, smirking. "But you never do this right. You're too damned tight for a half-assed stretching job." And maybe, someday, he'd tell Shuichi how much the idea of hurting his lover panics Yuki.

"Hnn," Shuichi whispers, so past arguing at this point. He twitches suddenly, and hums a three-note melody in the back of his throat.

Yuki whispers, "There?"

Shuichi repeats his song. Shifts restlessly forward, leans against Yuki's chest, and curls his arms up between their two bodies. He nuzzles Yuki's neck, like an incredibly pleased feline, and kisses Yuki's neck as the novelist adds another finger. He grips Yuki's ear between his teeth, and the blond groans at the feeling.

There's a wince against his neck, as he starts spreading his fingers apart. Shuichi lets go of Yuki's earlobe to utter out in distress, and Yuki slows his movements for a moment. "Ow…"

Yuki massages his inner walls, trying to get Shuichi to unclench and give. "Shu-chan…relax…sh…"

It's been a while. Shuichi just got back from tour yesterday morning and slept the entirety of the afternoon and evening. Yuki can tell by the tightness of the walls his fingers are pushing against that it has, indeed, been three months since the last time Shuichi did anything like this.

Not that he doesn't trust his baka, no. He may he stupid and naïve, but he's honest and trustworthy as well. At this point in their relationship, he takes note of these things so he knows how slow to be with his preparations. Not to test for signs of activity that Yuki had not been participating in.

"Okay…faster…," Shuichi whispers against Yuki's neck, and the blond does not need to be told twice. He continues to stretch Shuichi now, thrusts his two fingers in and out of Shuichi's tight, pink pucker. Shuichi can feel the lubricant and sweat, and the moisture naturally produced by his body trailing from where Yuki's fingers are thrusting, between his legs, and down his thighs. Shuichi whispers, "So messy-!"

Yuki replies, "Wasn't meant to be clean, kiddo."

Shuichi laughs at that—a quality laugh that sounds better than what any choir in the world could reproduce. Perhaps it's his exhaustion that makes him find the statement so funny, for to Yuki there's nothing particularly amusing about it. Just a piece of banter the likes of which they get up to in situations like this. But Yuki doesn't question it, because Shuichi's laugh is by far his favorite piece of music.

The third finger is just a precaution. He's done enough with the scissoring, but there's always a third finger—always. It's like a security thing. Shuichi is obsessed with that third finger; gets turned off and panicky if it doesn't come, even though two is sometimes all it takes.

Yuki is almost certain he can blame Aizawa Taki for this.

He refuses to think about this, though. For Shuichi has grabbed his wrist, and is now pulling Yuki's fingers out of himself. He whispers, "My turn."

A smirk sneaks onto Yuki's face, and he mumbles, "Then by all means, Shu. Take over."

Shuichi smiles a lazy, pleased smile and shuffles, positioning himself over Yuki's length so it settles against his entrance. With a deep breath, he lowers himself onto his lover, to a deep twitch from both men. Shuichi whimpers and continues to lower himself, hands wrapping around his own heels in the need to latch onto something. When he's fully seated, Yuki groans at the heat and tries to keep from flipping Shuichi onto his back and thrusting soundly into him.

Instead, he growls, "Shu…" in a way that says he would very much appreciate it if Shuichi would start moving his hot little ass.

"I know…"

Very slowly and hesitantly, Shuichi pulls off and lowers back down. He proceeds to gasp as the length within him presses firmly against his prostate. He rolls his head back as his eyes close and twitch behind his eyelids, wanting to roll back.

Yuki really wants this to go faster. He's eager not only for the feeling, but for the sights and sounds. This position is rarely used because of Shuichi's previously-explained reservations for it. But it's one of Yuki's favorites. He loves watching Shuichi bounce up and down in his lap, hair going all over the place and arousal bobbing between his shapely thighs.

And, because he's not doing the work, he's free to concentrate upon Shuichi's noises. The soft whimpers, the gasps and moans. The long, drawn-out cries of pleasure as he gets closer and closer to his release. And, of course, the sound he always finishes with. A desperate cry of, "EIRI!" as he twitches and releases upon their chests and stomachs.

He can tell how close Shuichi is by his gasps. As the bouncing in his lap finally speeds up, so does the frequency of Shuichi's gasps. He starts punctuating them with whimpers, as he goes up and down, up and down…

"Eir—Uuuuh! I'm gonna come!"

Yuki nods, because in complete contrast to Shuichi he couldn't possibly make a noise at the moment. His stomach muscles are contracting in the telltale sign of his release, so all he can do is nod. And watch as Shuichi bounces.

And listen as he sings a passionate song only for Yuki's ears.

He laces their fingers together, fitting Shuichi's smaller ones against his calloused ones. Shuichi squeezes for dear life, arching his back and curling his fingers and toes. He squeezes Yuki's hands and his passage ripples. He gasps out, "Oh! Eiri!" in a rising crescendo, and the climax of his ballad of passion is a long, drawn out high note as Shuichi's essence coats their chests.

Yuki mutters, "Shu…" and releases silently into Shuichi, the vocalist's movements having slowed as he shudders through his release.

Shuichi melts forward, resting his forehead against Eiri's and remarks, "Oh…I can feel the cramps in my legs starting already…"

Eiri smirks and mutters, "You're such a brat…" and gently kisses Shuichi's temple. He slumps against the headboard, grabs a few tissues, and cleans their chests off. Shuichi groans slightly and rolls to the side unceremoniously, twitching deeply as Yuki falls away from him.

He can feel Yuki's seed trickle down between his thighs, and when he rolls over, Yuki can see it. It's incredibly sexy to see his seed between his lover's shapely thighs, and he lets himself stare for a moment, before cleaning that up, too. If he lets it sit for too long, Shuichi will break out and it won't be a pleasant experience for either party.

Shuichi hums. A soft, slow ending to a beautifully composed piece of musical genius. He mumbles, "The AC's kicked in, Eiri. S'cold. Pull up the covers?"

Yuki does his pajama pants back up, reaches to the foot of the bed, and seizes the edge of the sheet. He pulls it up, cocooning himself and Shuichi in it and wraps his arms tightly around Shuichi's waist. They mold against each other effortlessly, both beginning to fall back to sleep. Dawn is only an hour away, and though neither has anything to do tomorrow, Shuichi can't sleep with light coming through the windows, and Yuki can't sleep when Shuichi's awake.

Shuichi sighs and closes his eyes and mumbles, "What are you thinking about?" It's a typical nonsense question Shuichi asks in these post-coital moments. The afterglow makes him completely noncommittal, but he likes to hear Yuki's voice as he falls asleep.

Yuki smiles and whispers, "Music, Shu."

Shuichi smiles and allows himself to drift to sleep.


End Story

A/N: I hit a lot of walls while writing this. It got kind of boring…Sorry. But I hope you enjoyed it, and you enjoyed getting into Yuki's mind. I did…although I'm not certain I like the way this turned out. :/ Then again, that's how I always feel.

On a side note, I was really dubious about giving this story this name. I feel it has little to nothing to do with the story the way it turned out…The plot (Is there even one…?) deviated far from what I originally had in mind.

Nevertheless, I'm leaving the story with this name. I like it, it describes the story well. However, please don't review saying you clicked it because Twilight was in the title. It…would really kind of annoy me.

I give Yaoi Sakka credit for coming up with it, named The Cookie Thing. Basically, you get one cookie per chapter which you can give to any character of your choosing. (For example: "(Random review stuff) And I would like to give a cookie to _ because _!") There are a few rules, however:

1.) One cookie per review.

2.) You can split the cookie between however many characters you like (Like half to Yuki, half to Shuichi, or a third each to Shuichi, Yuki, and Hiro, whatever.)

There you go! Hope you enjoyed.

-Lynn

(Katie, can you please check to make sure all the tense remains constant? I have a bad feeling I messed up somewhere. Try to have it done for lunch, alright? Thanks! ^_^ And leave a note on the bottom of the page; I wanna know what you think of the dialogue we discussed.)