Ambiguous
A Valentine's Day ficcy by Nekura Ishioka
JinXTouya
Happy Valentine's Day! This is in Touya's POV- Enjoy!
Is there truly such a thing as love?
A fitting question, I suppose, for my current predicament. Can one learn to love another who is one's complete opposite? Opposites attract, yes, but love?
I've always been told there is no such thing as love. Love I simply an illusion to cover manipulation. A dream, I always thought, and a beautiful albeit improbable one at that.
Then, why do you come back to me?
Why do you come back? Surely not to lie in my arms, holding me close like a child, not to revel in our kisses as we roam through a blizzard of emotions, not to stroke my skin as passions run high and we force down against each other in a frenzy of moans and gasps and desperate pleas? No, not that.
Maybe it's those strange mewling sounds you say I make when you pleasure me, those soft whimpers you say you love so much to hear… Maybe it's the rough friction of hot flesh and cold earth and mindless rapture when our bodies and souls are blissfully joined as one, a summer's breeze and the Arctic's chill, one on all levels, fire and ice racing through our veins, only to thaw into raw and unfiltered ardor... No, not that.
When we lie gasping in the long grass, untouched by the night air, whispering sweet-nothings as you slowly, oh so slowly, slide deep inside my flesh, watching the moon slip behind silver-grey clouds, distracted from the pain, and those sweet sweet words you whisper in a voice breathy as the breeze rippling the leaves of the large willow. When I'm weeping and begging and you press me deeper in the soft sand. When I pull you closer, closer, sososo close I can feel every heartbeat, both in your body and mine…
Mine. I like the sound of that, whispered in my ear, tumbling past your tender pink lips. I like the feel of that, pressed so deep inside me, bitten on my shoulder. I like the taste of that, sweet sweet flesh beneath my tongue. I like the sight of that, you writhing and moaning against me. I like the smell of that, the thick, wet scent of our joining. I like everything about it, about you, about those precious inimitable moments we share: those furtive glances you steal at me that make my inside liquefy, when we're in our own world, and no one can understand us, but we don't care; we don't even notice because we're so caught up in each other, caught up in every little motion you make, be it a suppressed smile at how different we are, a single twitch of annoyance on your lips, a single salty tear trailing from deep cerulean orbs with your whispered "Never leave me."
And I haven't, and never will. I swear this to you by my spirit, nothing more, nothing less. As long as my heart still beats in my chest, as long as my hands still exist to feel, as long as my soul, to extent, can heal. As long as I can still bounce back, and still make up for what I lack, as long as I still stand this ground, and hold on to this life that I have found. I live, I love, I make mistakes, I mend my heart after it breaks, but for you I will wait forever, may I die if I break this, ever.
Maybe I'm in love, maybe not. But if this be love, then there is nothing more for me to ever ask for, except for your love in return.