Gravitation -- On Stage (Hiro/Ayaka)
Title: On Stage
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Hiro x Ayaka
Rating: Soft R for implicit sex
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
She wanted it there because it was where he felt most alive; it was where he looked like a rock god, slicked and sweating and shining.
He wanted it there because she wanted it there, and anywhere she wanted it, he wanted it-because he was a man and, when it came right down to it, he just wanted her.
She felt the floor of the stage on her bare skin, cool and hard and unmoving. She hadn’t imagined it would be so uncomfortable, hadn’t thought it would hurt as much as it did. But it wasn’t enough for them to stop; they were too far gone.
He felt, for the first time, as if he owned the stage, like it was his, and she was his because she was on it-on her back and shivering, cold and nervous and excited all at once. He wasn’t sharing it with anyone, wasn’t in the background instead of the spotlight; had that light been on, it would’ve spread like glory across his shoulder blades.
She was quiet at first, out of fear of being caught and out of respect for a place as sacred as it was to him. But he was a musician in more ways than one, and she was soon an instrument, handled and played upon by his skilled fingers; she couldn’t keep her lips from parting, note after note spilling from her throat with every touch, resonating, resounding through the empty auditorium.
He was sure that he’d never made music more beautiful than her. The buzzing in his ear, the rushing of blood, sounded like applause; he laughed into the flushed flesh of her neck at the thought of their performance being watched by millions of fans.
She laughed, because he laughed, and because she needed to laugh-she ached and felt too open and exposed. But she was happy when he kissed her and held her tight, and his skin burned under her fingers and he felt more alive than he ever had. That was why she wanted it there.
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Hiro x Ayaka
Rating: Soft R for implicit sex
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
She wanted it there because it was where he felt most alive; it was where he looked like a rock god, slicked and sweating and shining.
He wanted it there because she wanted it there, and anywhere she wanted it, he wanted it-because he was a man and, when it came right down to it, he just wanted her.
She felt the floor of the stage on her bare skin, cool and hard and unmoving. She hadn’t imagined it would be so uncomfortable, hadn’t thought it would hurt as much as it did. But it wasn’t enough for them to stop; they were too far gone.
He felt, for the first time, as if he owned the stage, like it was his, and she was his because she was on it-on her back and shivering, cold and nervous and excited all at once. He wasn’t sharing it with anyone, wasn’t in the background instead of the spotlight; had that light been on, it would’ve spread like glory across his shoulder blades.
She was quiet at first, out of fear of being caught and out of respect for a place as sacred as it was to him. But he was a musician in more ways than one, and she was soon an instrument, handled and played upon by his skilled fingers; she couldn’t keep her lips from parting, note after note spilling from her throat with every touch, resonating, resounding through the empty auditorium.
He was sure that he’d never made music more beautiful than her. The buzzing in his ear, the rushing of blood, sounded like applause; he laughed into the flushed flesh of her neck at the thought of their performance being watched by millions of fans.
She laughed, because he laughed, and because she needed to laugh-she ached and felt too open and exposed. But she was happy when he kissed her and held her tight, and his skin burned under her fingers and he felt more alive than he ever had. That was why she wanted it there.