Wherein Yukito has got a whole 'other reason for staying over at the Kinomoto house. Also written for the tsukimineshrine comm at LJ with the theme: Twisted - Remember your OTP, and how it's so sw...
DISCLAIMER If I owned CCS, I wouldn't be slaving on office overtime. Card Captor Sakura belongs to CLAMP.
by Morrigan Mikagami
Â© April 2006
"You can sleep over tonight if you'd like."
Feigned nonchalance. A nervous glance.
One lopsided grin, and a heart thumping loudly for joy.
His breath was hot on his sensitive skin, electrifying every nerve on his body, infringing on his other senses. Whether by impulse or instinct, he arched his body up towards the other man, pushing and grinding his hips, as though the mere action would shed their clothing. A low moan nearly escaped his lips when his lover's skillful tongue lapped gently at his hard nipples, while insistent hands worked their way through his pants, rubbing them with such urgency and need. He bit his lip to suppress the sound; his hands tangled in the mass of soft hair now grasped them as if holding on for dear life.
He was so, oh so painfully!, hard.
"Now. Hurry." Were the only concrete words he could form within his lust-filled, anxious mind. There was no need for foreplay, they couldn't afford for foreplay, especially not now. Not when the chances of them getting walked into and be caught were great. He just could not risk it.
His lover - who was now half-kneeling, running his tongue up and down his exposed torso and around his hips as he removed the underwear that was blocking his goal - suddenly stopped and met his gaze through a cloudy haze.
"Please..." He pleaded, whispering hoarsely. They've got about ten more minutes before anyone would become suspicious.
The other man seemed to have understood the desperate plea, his eyes shortly softened in empathy.
And so, without removing his gaze, his lover took his length into his mouth, slowly and wonderfully, letting his tongue swirl and tug at the swollen, hard flesh. He gasped at the mad sensation, wild shivers racked his body as his lover swallowed him as much as his mouth (and throat) would allow. With one hand soothing out his thigh, the other hand wound its way back to the throbbing flesh and began pumping steadily, mouth not leaving its place as it sucked hard, rhythmatically with every stroke.
Oh gods he was coming! He thrust his hips in need and desperation, he was nearly there... he wanted so much... nearly... so much...
Before completely falling into oblivion, he managed to bite onto his lip - hard - if only to muffle the growl that was caught somewhere in his throat. It'll bleed and leave a mark, for sure.
He doesn't care. It doesn't matter right now.
The euphoria of the encounter had simply left him breathless and weak. And for a few more seconds, he delved in its effects, high as though on drugs.
Silky lips brought him back to time-present, tenderly licking up on the wound he had made.
"We should go." He vaguely remembered his lover saying, as he helped him hastily put his pants back on. He merely nodded in agreement, his mind was half lost at re-arranging his clothes, smoothing them out compulsively. The other man waited patiently for him until he was satisfied, an affectionate smile never leaving his face.
He smiled back at him, warmly. "I'll bring in the cake."
The moment he walked into the parlor, everyone made reach for the cake. And suddenly, they all gathered around him with their plates and fork, not even waiting for him to set down the pastry on the table.
One person approached him with a forceful stride, however, a deep concern etched all over his tanned face.
"Yuki! What happened?? Are you alright?! You've got a wound on your lips!"
He pursed his lips impulsively. Indeed, he tasted blood.
"Tsukishiro-kun just got a little too excited about the cake," Fujitaka walked into the room behind him, holding a tray of cups full of steaming, hot tea. "I believe there's some medical crÃ¨me in the bathroom." He smiled calmly at his son, no other emotion betrayed his demeanor.
His best friend was frowning a little, looking from him to his father, as though sensing a lie. Or was he just paranoid?
But then, Touya placed a tentative hand on his cheeks, the thumb delicately touching the gash on his lips where he'd bit them, scowling softly at it.
"You should be more careful, Yuki." The taller boy half-reprimanded him, offering a small, endeared smile, before taking away his hand.
His heart sank a little. He didn't want to get out of it. Neither of it.
So that when he returned the smile to his friend, he could only wish that he looked genuinely happy, enough for him to believe.
"To-ya, you worry too much."
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