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I swear I understand my initial reason for wanting it.
I want the moans of pleasure to be ripped from Sejiu's throat until he's hoarse the next morning because I want him to remember. I want him to wince when he sees the marks I've decorated him with in the dark because I want him to know he's mine. I want him to crack, break, shatter because I want to be the on he lets under his disguise. Because even as we are knotted up in sheets, sweat, and skin-he is still too far away from me. I want it because it means he wants me. I want him too much. This I can understand. He has always beaten me at every game and that's what he considers this, I'm sure this is all just a game for him. And every time I expose what i want, he takes, simply because he can, and when he gives it back he knows I'll be thankful. He knows I'll sing him the highest praises and bow at his feet, even if I never get what i want. Especially if I never get what I want.
But I get something close to what i want whenever he's free. Whenever its not too much trouble. Whenever he decides he's really. Whenever. I come home to him half done in my bed, still commanding in his silence as he holds me green gaze with his crimson eye. I wonder if he notices when he gets close his golden eye half closes. And as he comes with barely a whisper, I am already out of my clothes. I am already beside him but still held at an arms length. Even as I am allowed to spread his pale thighs and lick and suck and devour and worship every inch of skin marred by only my teeth, I am never given what I want. Even as I prepare him after unwrapping my fingers and his breath automatically hitches and grows labored, he still isn't giving me what I want.
I could be inside of his tight heat, thrusting. Lips on his shoulder, branding him as mine. Tasting his sweat, savoring the flavor. I could be seconds from climax, his hand fisted in my green hair and knees grinding, bruising my hips. I could be laying on his smaller body, panting from the experience, physically sated with the scent of lust in the air, and question myself, is this all it is? Lust? And I know what I want. I want to prove it is anything but lust. It is a mistake. It is passion. It is a lie. It is love. But never shall I allow myself to think it is lust.
Completely idiotic, for all we do is fulfill our carnal desires, control a primal instinct, in these moments. It is lust. But it's the calm after. The ghosting of breath past my ear, the comfortable tangle of legs, the steady rhythm of a lover's heart beneath yours. He shifts beneath me and I return to the present, flipping our bodies so his slight frame can rest on top of me. His eyes are heavy lidded and he mumbles but he rests his chin on my bare, sticky chest and says, "I love you, Shintarou." It's almost want I want. It's an admission that this isn't lust, but it isn't the declaration I wanted to calm my ego. But it's enough to keep me here, keep me satisfied. It's not enough to overflow my cup, but it's enough to meet a need.
And he is Akashi. So he always knows what we need.