Katsuya pushed the ball of his right hand hard against the middle of Seto's spine and drew it up slowly along the slight bumps of the vertebrae nearing Seto's neck. He moved the position of his hand without pause to allow his fingertips to brush up until he reached Seto's hair line, then down to trace along the width of his shoulder, rounding over the curve of the subtle muscle.

The tips of Katsuya's fingers followed gently down the side of Seto's arm, drawing up chill bumps as they went, until they dropped off to Seto's side and curled around his slightly protruding hip bone. Pausing for a moment, Katsuya slid his middle finger just slightly along the curve of his Ilium, brushing just enough against the front of Seto's pants to cause more chill bumps before he retreated back.

Changing the position of his hand again, Katsuya spread his hand out and let his fingertips just barely glide against the unnoticeable fuzz above Seto's trouser line, but did not let his fingers touch the skin. He moved his hand over the small of Seto's back like a heavy sigh, drawing a small arch out of Seto when he reached the deepest curve. Seto shivered silently as Katsuya's fingers touched against his skin at last and drew up to the middle of his spine, where Katsuya returned his hand to it's original position to repeat the motions.

Katsuya's unoccupied arm was bent loosely back over his own head, his fingers moving in the back of his hair at times. He was staring wide-eyed in the dark at Seto's back, neither of them having said anything in some time. He didn't want anything- he didn't want to speak, he didn't want to do more than what he was doing. He was content to be alone inside himself, but found himself satisfied with that feeling almost exclusively when he was near Seto at the same time.

Seto was allowing the present actions, as he had on many occasions. Seto, after all, was certainly not the needier of the two, so when Katsuya resigned to himself, Seto almost never had anything to say about it. Katsuya simply felt at times that being allowed to touch Seto in the smallest of ways and still get a response from him was somehow more significant than lovemaking or fist fighting or anything else he could even think of.

Seto's reserved sighs, the way his skin would prickle when Katsuya touched it just enough to show that his body noticed before his mind, the tensing and relaxing of his muscles, the sound of his hair moving across his pillow, and sometimes the tranquil yet somehow high-tense movement of Seto to be closer to him in the absolute dark- they were all indicators of something foreign that needed to be attained, something that words could not touch. It spoke more of Seto than either of them knew how to explain. Seto would often retreat in the evenings not to be touched at all, but on some occasions when Katsuya reached out, it seemed as if Seto relaxed in a way that, although was almost entirely unnoticeable, seemed comforted. It was enough to make Katsuya try again, so he found himself returning to this intimate but distant circumstance on more than one occasion.

Seto had rolled towards him in the dark, made slightly restless by Katsuya's tantalizing touch. His breath came even out of his nose and he was perfectly still, comfortable although distantly wanting. He was not in physical contact with Katsuya and showed no sign of irritation or pleasure aside from his body's muted responses to Katsuya's lingering fingertips.

Katsuya's thumb pressed gently over Seto's left eyelid, as he knew Seto's eyes were tired and over-stimulated and would be looking at him so intensely if they were open. His dry knuckles brushed against Seto's hollow cheek bone and the same fingertips that had ventured all over Seto's body returned to his face, parting his lips. Katsuya felt the familiar spark of what he liked to refer to as 'everything one is able to feel all at once', but more specifically the feeling of walking into an unfamiliar place with no means of a light. Seto was that place and the only thing Katsuya knew to do was feel his way through; the fear existed with some means of anticipation, which manifested as the sinking excitement in his stomach. They each illuminated the way a little more when they touched, led only by their curious hearts made terrified by the uncertain likeness of the other.

Some nights, like tonight, Katsuya's curiosity and subtle advances would incite Seto into breaking his stillness and searching back; the finger passing over his lips seeming to grant permission, but having meant more to ask a question. Seto would cast himself above Katsuya, his hands hovering over any part of Katsuya that could be held, but never was. Seto allowed himself mostly to think and to consider, but not to act with his exploration the way Katsuya did. It lead to white knuckles clenched in the sheets on either side of Katsuya's body and brittle kisses placed unevenly and sporadically over the parts of Katsuya's face and chest that were uncharted by the daylight.

Katsuya had a way of putting his hands on every part of Seto that could be reached no matter what position they were in. It didn't matter if he was on top or on bottom, or where Seto was moving to kiss him, Katsuya's hands were somehow all over him at once. It unnerved Seto, but gave him such a sense of reserved excitement that he could feel it everywhere, but could not express it. His hands were too shaky to return these movements and to use them would be to show his insecurity, so he used his lips. Seto's kisses were gentle, almost too gentle, and evocative specifically in how subtle they were. Katsuya found himself driven half mad by them, but not in a way that made him lust for more- it was more that he knew this timid persistence was so Seto and he just craved more of everything that Seto was. It made Katsuya want to somehow make Seto feel the same way- for Seto to want more of him, whatever he should be.

These moments were all about exploring reactions- from the body, from the mind, and from the heart. The way Seto felt when he learned that Katsuya's lower stomach was sensitive was the same way Katsuya felt when he learned that Seto's neck was sensitive. The brush of Katsuya's fingertips mirrored the soft pressure of Seto's lips. There always existed some kind of mutual surprise, affection, curiosity, and hesitation in their movements. It created a lot of beautiful accidents, and through tumbling around in the dark, giving just enough to get back a little more, they found themselves most honest in the silence of the other.