Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto
Not A Word
0 reviewsThat's how things work between us. Not a word. [GaaKanku, oneshot, shonen ai, sandcest]
0Unrated
Title of Work: Not A Word
Pairing: Gaara X Kankurou
Not a word. That's how things work between Kankurou and I.
He doesn't talk to me. He simply looks with dark, plum lined eyes, half in fear and half in excited anticipation, and he waits for my kiss without speaking a word of encouragement, greeting, or protest. He simply smiles, I hook a finger under his chin and lift his head, and our lips meet... without speaking.
When it is over, I cry because I know it means nothing. I know that he's my kin, my elder brother, and I know that we are corrupted and sinful in action and thought. I know that we are wrong to kiss, touch, fuck each other like this. And I know what is the most sinful thought of all, the one that I thrive off of, my guilty pleasure. When I think that it means that he loves me.
When I cry, he places his hand on my shoulder and looks at me quizically, and tries to understand what is going on behind my black rimmed emerald orbs. He wipes my tears gently and looks at me in just the right way. (Like he loves me, like I'm his lover.)
His lips part as if to speak, and always he thinks better of it, and we settle for another kiss instead. His painted lips are soft and so much like my own. (We have been told, both of us, that we have our father's lips.)
"I love you" is the only thing he could say that may ease my troubled mind, and it would be a lie anyway.
Pairing: Gaara X Kankurou
Not a word. That's how things work between Kankurou and I.
He doesn't talk to me. He simply looks with dark, plum lined eyes, half in fear and half in excited anticipation, and he waits for my kiss without speaking a word of encouragement, greeting, or protest. He simply smiles, I hook a finger under his chin and lift his head, and our lips meet... without speaking.
When it is over, I cry because I know it means nothing. I know that he's my kin, my elder brother, and I know that we are corrupted and sinful in action and thought. I know that we are wrong to kiss, touch, fuck each other like this. And I know what is the most sinful thought of all, the one that I thrive off of, my guilty pleasure. When I think that it means that he loves me.
When I cry, he places his hand on my shoulder and looks at me quizically, and tries to understand what is going on behind my black rimmed emerald orbs. He wipes my tears gently and looks at me in just the right way. (Like he loves me, like I'm his lover.)
His lips part as if to speak, and always he thinks better of it, and we settle for another kiss instead. His painted lips are soft and so much like my own. (We have been told, both of us, that we have our father's lips.)
"I love you" is the only thing he could say that may ease my troubled mind, and it would be a lie anyway.
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