[Fic] [Round 38] At the Foot of the Lighthouse, PG
Title: At the Foot of the Lighthouse
Author/Artist: lenainverse
Characters/Pairings: Murata/Yuuri
Word Count: ~400
Rating: PG-ish
Warnings: Haunt made me do it.
Theme/Prompt being used: Murata
Night was Murata’s best time, but not his favorite. Shadows, deep enough to swallow the dying light of the last lantern, inked the walls and swirled, playful, in the curtains over the Maou’s bed. From here Yuuri’s face was visible, drawing a lone moonbeam through thick curtains.
Murata hadn’t been invited, but he wouldn’t need to be. They had been here, together, in the afternoons with the sun still bright enough to make it innocent. But Yuuri wouldn’t have objected, had Murata asked. He would have flushed, perhaps, and stuttered at the forwardness, but he would have agreed. Though there was a boundary there, it weakened by the day, enough that Murata didn’t consider tonight’s presence a violation. Would that his motives tonight were different, Murata could be beside Yuuri, his fingers sliding beneath soft linens and over skin-warm pajamas rather than the stiff armrest of the corner chair.
With neither alternative entirely pure, Murata had opted for the less undisciplined.
Yuuri’s smile grew and then softened, never fading, even in sleep. As always he was only Yuuri, no different now then at daybreak or high noon. His place was everywhere, and Murata’s place was in his shadow. The dark was only so shrouded because it followed the brilliance of day.
And follow he had, accepting his place. For a while it was enough. Then he noticed how easy it was, with a few well placed jokes or an offhand reminiscence of home, to turn Yuuri’s smile toward him. Soon enough Murata found himself soliciting a touch, a blush, a kiss, because he craved it. Because he could.
Stirring, Yuuri kicked at the sheets, his lips now moving with the last snatches of a dream. Murata smiled, and relaxed as Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open and found him, as if he’d known all along where to look.
“Murata?” His voice was rough from sleep, but didn’t sound surprised. “That chair can’t be comfortable.” His arms stretched over his head and even in the dark, Murata could see Yuuri’s flush. “Wanna… lie down?”
There was a boundary there, until now, and Murata isn’t sure if it’s his smile or something else that made it fall. He’d have to consider it later, because all he could do now was rise to his feet and take the five long strides to Yuuri’s side.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Author/Artist: lenainverse
Characters/Pairings: Murata/Yuuri
Word Count: ~400
Rating: PG-ish
Warnings: Haunt made me do it.
Theme/Prompt being used: Murata
Night was Murata’s best time, but not his favorite. Shadows, deep enough to swallow the dying light of the last lantern, inked the walls and swirled, playful, in the curtains over the Maou’s bed. From here Yuuri’s face was visible, drawing a lone moonbeam through thick curtains.
Murata hadn’t been invited, but he wouldn’t need to be. They had been here, together, in the afternoons with the sun still bright enough to make it innocent. But Yuuri wouldn’t have objected, had Murata asked. He would have flushed, perhaps, and stuttered at the forwardness, but he would have agreed. Though there was a boundary there, it weakened by the day, enough that Murata didn’t consider tonight’s presence a violation. Would that his motives tonight were different, Murata could be beside Yuuri, his fingers sliding beneath soft linens and over skin-warm pajamas rather than the stiff armrest of the corner chair.
With neither alternative entirely pure, Murata had opted for the less undisciplined.
Yuuri’s smile grew and then softened, never fading, even in sleep. As always he was only Yuuri, no different now then at daybreak or high noon. His place was everywhere, and Murata’s place was in his shadow. The dark was only so shrouded because it followed the brilliance of day.
And follow he had, accepting his place. For a while it was enough. Then he noticed how easy it was, with a few well placed jokes or an offhand reminiscence of home, to turn Yuuri’s smile toward him. Soon enough Murata found himself soliciting a touch, a blush, a kiss, because he craved it. Because he could.
Stirring, Yuuri kicked at the sheets, his lips now moving with the last snatches of a dream. Murata smiled, and relaxed as Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open and found him, as if he’d known all along where to look.
“Murata?” His voice was rough from sleep, but didn’t sound surprised. “That chair can’t be comfortable.” His arms stretched over his head and even in the dark, Murata could see Yuuri’s flush. “Wanna… lie down?”
There was a boundary there, until now, and Murata isn’t sure if it’s his smile or something else that made it fall. He’d have to consider it later, because all he could do now was rise to his feet and take the five long strides to Yuuri’s side.
“I thought you’d never ask.”