See AN: at the end.
Promt: #8 Easy like Sunday Morning
So this drabble doesn't really fit the prompt (other than I pictured this happening early some random sunday morning), and I think it goes without saying that I don't own OHSHC, but whatever. Enjoy.
She was glorious in the morning.
It wasn't often that Kyouya made the concientious descision to stay home for the day. Hell, aside from his graduation, and the once chance time that Haruhi had been sick he hadn't willingly shirked any sort of work related duty in about 4 years. But something told him, as he gazed lazily at his sleeping girlfriend, that this was one instance where his job would have to wait.
Rarely did the college student let herself sleep in; usually she was up even before he, if not for an eight a.m. class, then off to market for a early bird grocery sale. Apart from finally moving into an apartment of her own (both for the convinience of being closer to Ouran's local law University and bringing her closer to the object of her affections) very little had changed about his girlfriend's habits. She would never truly leave that wide eyed, 15 year old tomboy behind, but the time that had passed between then and now had contributed not only to her mental growth, but her physical as well.
No one could mistake her for a boy now Kyouya noted idly, as she curled deeper into the warmth he emanated, a faint murmur fluttering quietly from her lips as he wrapped a long arm around her waist.
Yes indeed, time had been kind to his female companion. Though he supposed that five years hardly constituted as a long time, anytime they were together like this he couldn't help notice the diffrences between them.
For someone so strong, it never ceased to amaze him how small she really was. Everything about her seemed so fragile; she was all silken curves and lithe bones compared to his harsh planes and taut muscle. How big his hands seemed to be on her body...how easy they seemed to glide along the sleek silohuette of her side, moving in to trace the almost miniscule taper of her fine waist before sliding down to capture her plump rear.
In the early light, her fair skin was heavenly, the bright rays that shone through the pink clouds and into the third story apartment illuminating her skin with a rose tinted glow. Her hair had grown by leaps and bounds since their Ouran days, and the lustrious light that washed over them both seemed to pull infinite shades of amber from the chocolate waves that spread across her pillow.
Her face was that of an ethereal being, fine lined with sooty lashes and a jawline that made her look almost gamine. And while her delicate features were a far cry from the angular and decidedly rakish components that tended to plague some of the upper class, he found he didn't mind one bit. She have come from a common and relitavely unknown family, but her beauty had an aristocracy all her own, one that he doubted even the finest breeding in the world would be hard pressed to replicate.
Something in his chest flitted briefly when she turned unconciously in her sleep to mutter his name; the warm adoration he felt knowing somehthing so extraordinary belonged solely to him, turning to something decidedly more heated, when a single slender leg moved to intertwine with his own, just as her pert nose brushed against the crook of his neck.
She would never know the power she held over him, Kyouya mused as he dipped his head slightly to nip at the soft skin at the underside of her jaw, reveling in the sleepy sigh that escaped her parted lips as she shifted her body against his. No, she would never know the infinite leverage she held over him, he surmised as she turned bleary half-awake eyes on him, something stirring deep within the pit of his stomach as the oversized shirt she wore gaped to reveal the swell of her breast and he met her gaze laden with slumberous desire.
But somehow, he found he didn't mind. She loved him regardless of money, power, fame or anything else his staus could bring her, he realized as his hands moved to slide along the smooth skin of her ribcage to meld her to him, the quiet moan she emmited as his mouth lay claim to her neck, cementing his resolve as he gently grasped her hand to silently slip on the glittering black diamond that had been his mother's.
She loved him for who he was, and for that, she owned him, mind, body and soul.
AN :This was done sometime around 1-2 a.m. on an insomnia kick, so if my ideas seem a little disjointed, sorry. It was originally supposed to be a 500 word drabble for the prompt challenge but it sort of spiraled out of control ( God only knows where that ending came from) so there ya go.
Reviews, as always, are welcome.