Deceptive Pleasures
By Rina Garet
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Part Five
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I'd never seen him cry before.
It was… unnerving in a way. And in another way, it made me feel closer to him. It made him more human. Suddenly, he wasn't some perfect thing sculpted out of ice that nothing could touch.
I kissed him, whispered his name softly to let him know I was there, looking into his wide-eyed, blind face.
We were at the bridge. There was only one step left to take.
Vaulting over the edge, I held him close.
I stopped to let him adjust. He wasn't used to this; that much was obvious from his face, even if I hadn't had previous suspicions about his lack of experience. I pressed in close, leaning down and kissing the tears away from his eyes.
I hadn't planned on being gentle with him. I mean, he didn't seem like that's what he had been looking for. He was hard, tough, aggressive. But as soon as everything else was stripped away, clothes, weapon, all his iceberg façade and cold armor… and only Aya was left there…
He was crying, and I'm not even sure if he was aware of it.
Now, it was my turn to take control, to teach, to show him. Free of all his confines, he was left with only himself, and me. I'd finally gotten what I wanted, and I wasn't going to let it be over that quickly.
I'm slow, at first. I don't want to hurt him. He must enjoy the pain to some degree, or else he would have never formed that attachment to his katana, but this is different. It doesn't have to hurt. It doesn't have to be one-sided and empty.
I think I was telling myself that more than I was trying to convince him.
How stupid was I not to see that? He's teaching me as much as I'm teaching him. When was the last time this actually had anything in it for me? Nameless faces, faceless bodies, meaningless sex. I'd numbed myself to it all.
I had to feel again, for him.
Why him? I don't know. It just happened. I hadn't planned, and neither had he, I don't think. Maybe that's why I feel like it might be genuine. It isn't forced. It's simply there.
I closed my eyes, not because I didn't want to look at him, but because I didn't want to see anything at all. I wanted to feel, and only feel. My fingers brushed his hair, and I could FEEL the crimson, without having to see it. I felt the scent of strawberry-tinged sweat and relaxed into it. I felt all his softness, all his hardness, and all his ice melt away.
I stroked him softly, every inch of him, almost as though I were peeling away an outer layer. Opening my eyes, I saw that his were closed, facial features pulled taut in concentration, tears drying on his cheeks. He was thinking too hard, or trying to, at least.
I press my fingers underneath his chin, tell him to look at me. He does. So different from before, he's totally in my hands now. I'm not totally sure I understand why he's trusting me so much. I could easily hurt him, now. But I won't… I won't throw this away.
"Don't think." The words are soft, but commanding. Violet ice eyes glimmer, soft lashes close over them for a moment, and when they pull back again, his eyes are clear and wide.
They're revering me.
Like his blade.
No, I don't want that. Not one-sided. I don't want complete control. I'm tired of taking and still feeling empty. Taking everything and feeling none of it.
I give him what he wants. What I want. I'm him, he's me, and we fuse the two sides of the coin.
I don't think. I do.
His mouth is open, but no sound comes out. He's beyond speech now, violet eyes holding me, telling me when to go and when to stop. I'm fighting to reach some unreachable spot within him, both physically and mentally, that no one has ever dared to come into contact with.
It's been hours. It's been seconds. Time holds no meaning.
Gentleness is finally stripped away, replaced by raw need. Need to be complete, need to be completed, need to find an end to all of this and finally release everything we've been holding in for so long.
He's fighting to keep still beneath me, but his body won't let him. His eyes are wavering, his lips trembling softly, his body fighting the tremors of release. I continue to stroke him, and I coax him to let go, that it's alright, that I won't disappear if he does. And that I'll let go, too.
I finally feel him convulse, the tightening in his abdomen, and I hold him tight enough to feel his heart beating wildly. His breath catches in his throat, almost as if he's choking on it, but then a rush of air escapes, and his eyes squeeze shut. His muscles snap taut, all his tension pouring forth in waves as he falls limp in my arms, without the energy to do anything more.
It's not one-sided now, and I can let go, as well, kissing him and clutching him, and finally falling limp as well.
I've been in this position more times than I can count, falling spent where I lay after sex. But now, instead of turning my back, I cradle him in my arms, almost like a child. I feel full, not empty, with some strange sweetness pricking inside my chest. I want to hold him, I want to protect him, now that I've given him everything I could. And he's broken himself down for me.
No one has ever done that for me before.
Why him? What makes me worth it to him?
I don't know, but I plan on staying around long enough to find out.
~*~OWARI~*~