Days Without Sun

Epilogue Part IV: Healing

Misaki felt his breath catch as Usagi-san's mouth caught his. A dozen light kisses were pulled from his lips. In between these, Usagi-san's lush tongue brushed him inquiringly. Opening himself, Misaki extended his own in welcome. He allowed Usagi-san to drink him in before seeking to quench his own terrible thirst.

Catching Usagi-san's tongue at last, Misaki sucked, tentatively at first, and then with fervor. At the first taste of his author's flavors: of smoke and coffee and ginger, he felt desperate for more.

Even so, he pushed back breaking their kiss.

Akihiko sat still, not pressing forward as he would have in the past. He expected Misaki to withdraw into his old manner of reluctant protests or to shut-down, as he had been prone to do since his rescue. He was stunned however, to feel Misaki's hands leave his shirt and catch his jaw again. Akihiko's eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed with emotion, as soft lips brushed against his cheek, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, touching and tasting before leaving him again.

"Usagi-san..."

Misaki's whisper was plaintive, its tone expressed his need better than a thousand words could have.

Opening his eyes again, Misaki's met his for only a moment before looking away and Akihiko's heart shattered at the open need in the green gaze. His fingers flew to his shirt and he began to quickly finish where Misaki had left off unbuttoning. The slight tremor in his fingers startled Akihiko and, while he wished he might attribute this sudden quaking to his illness, he knew better.

I'm nervous.

I haven't been this bloody unsettled since... Hell, even my first time, my heart didn't pound like this.

This intrusive insight was quickly left behind, when Misaki shifted atop him.

Seeing his bruised flower, Akihiko knew in an instant he was by far not the most apprehensive one here. He understood too that most of his unease came from worry of doing anything that might set his love back, that he might somehow unknowingly open one of Misaki's healing wounds.

When Akihiko finished with the buttons on his shirt, Misaki's head didn't lift, but his hands reached up. In clenched fingers Misaki took hold of the shirt and pushed it down off broad shoulders.

Akihiko allowed it to slide off. Once free from the encumbering fabric, his hands moved to grasp the hem of Misaki's overlarge shirt. He stopped when he heard Misaki's breath hitch and a shaking hand settled over one of his own. Halting his motion, Akihiko felt the thin fingers of Misaki's damaged hand hover lightly over his chest, before dropping down.

Misaki shook his dark head. "P-please, Usagi-san... I w-want to leave it on."

Pale eyes sparked painfully and the author's heart clenched at the unease in Misaki's voice: he knew how self-conscious his boy was about all the marks Korovin had left on his body. These scars didn't change how Akihiko felt about his beloved in the least but, rather than say this, he simply allowed Misaki's shirt to settle.

Releasing the outer edge of the garment, slowly, long fingers crept up under and soon a cool, large palm rested on the flat of Misaki's low belly. Beneath his hand, Akihiko could feel the pink ridges of scored skin. Settling his hand, Akihiko leaned forward. His lips brushed along Misaki's jaw until they reached the teen's ear.

"This okay, Mi?" Akihiko held his breath until he saw Misaki's almost imperceptible nod.

"Y-yes." Misaki exhaled a shaky breath.

"And this?"

Skilled fingers slowly swept up Misaki's torso. Sensitive fingertips read the braille of Misaki's wounding. They kissed what Akihiko's lips could not. Slipping his hand up, Akihiko cupped the side of one of Misaki's lean pectorals; he brushed a broad thumb around the outer edge of his boy's nipple. Beneath this hand Misaki shivered, his back stiffened involuntarily and he pushed his chest forward. The tip of Akihiko's thumb found the point of Misaki's nipple and he flicked across it.