[Email Log] [Innuendo] [Nanao and Hayate] [Closed]

[lunar_gale]

((Backdated to Wednesday, May 31st, late evening. Oh yeah... This might be PG-13ish...))



The jeans hugged Nanao’s hips, emphasizing curves she didn’t often notice. The denim was slightly tighter then she remembered, but it was still flexible enough not to restrict movement, so she turned to rummage through her closet for a comfortably cool shirt.

It didn’t take long for her to find one of her favorite old tee-shirts; a bright orange one from when she’d gone with her parents to Hawaii. It was faded and worn almost threadbare in spots, but it was soft and cool. In the back of her mind, she thought it might be amusing to see if Hayate would notice the effort to match his ‘hideous’ shorts.

The day had been pleasant all around. Work had gone well, and that plus the thought that she’d slept better the night before all conspired to put her in a relatively good mood for once. The online conversation she’d shared with Hayate just topped it all off.

Before she left, she pulled her hair up in a high, loose tail and slipped her glasses off, opting to use her contacts for the night. With a last look, she padded out of the bathroom, hands knotting the back of her shirt, the loop resting against the small of her back when she was done.

Keys in hand, she set out up the stairs, stopping in front of number 21 for a second before she opened the door, peering around as she walked in. “Is anyone home?”

Hayate was perched in his office chair, one knee bent with the foot hooked under the armrest and the other extended to set on the thick wooden plank that served as his desk. All three fans were running at the corners of his room, fluttering the pages of an open leather book near his foot and rattling the covers of the more conventional volumes that were piled, more or less by subject, around the perimeter of his room.

He leaned to the side ever so slightly, exceedingly aware of the poor balance of the chair, the ugliness of his shorts, and his lack of a shirt. This was Nanao, visiting as they’d agreed. She’d seen his scars, but he still flinched a bit at being so close to nudity. His fingers groped at the topmost throw blanket on the chair, but he resisted the urge to pull it around himself.

“No.” He called back to her, letting his sense of humor have just a little exercise in hopes that it might dispel the slight uneasiness that always coiled in his stomach when he was so exposed. The thick silver cuff he sometimes wore on his left wrist clunked against the desk as he reached out to close his most recently completed hand-made book, and he pulled it off with a twist of both his hand and his lips before she came into sight, tossing it haphazardly under the desk.

“I’m in here.”

The cheeky answer made the self-conscious smile shift to a more authentic one. Nanao had figured he was in his room since she hadn’t seen him when she’d entered. An understated sound heralded the door closing behind her; the quiet rhythm of her bare feet hiding it from perception.

She leaned in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, since no one’s home, I suppose I’ll go back downstairs.” For the first time in days, she felt it was easier to smile. Her eyes took in Hayate perched at his desk, still obviously in his shorts, but he hadn’t risen to greet her. It made her feel hesitant, but she mentally shrugged that off.

With a sweeping gesture worthy of a showman, she indicated the faded jeans.

“Very, very nice…” he looked her over with a soft smile on his face, allowing himself the unfamiliar luxury of openly appreciating the figure flattering fit of her pants before raising an eyebrow slightly at her choice of shirt. He had no room to act as fashion police, but he was sorely tempted to make a snarky comment about the color until he realized that it almost exactly matched the orange in his shorts. He gestured toward her shirt, then his shorts, “…but are you sure you want to match these things, Nanao?”

Dropping his feet to the floor, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around himself, hooking a thumb through the leather lace that held a bit of red jasper at collar level and glancing around for a moment. The gray tank top he’d been wearing when he went to talk to Gaara was still lying at the nearest corner of his bed, but the cargo pants were folded across the top of the woven hamper in the corner nearest his door. Feeling overly self-conscious about both his weight and his scars, he grabbed the shirt and pulled it on.

After that was dealt with, he felt far more comfortable, and dragged himself out of his chair without knocking it over or looking like a clumsy oaf. Unlike her presentation, he just shrugged his shoulders and did nothing more to physically draw attention to the shorts that hung a bit low on his narrow hips. “Pretty bad, mm?”

The once over warmed her internally, making her smile hitch up even more. She wasn’t a beauty and still wasn’t used to the idea that anyone might find her attractive. As she’d expected, he’d figured out her subtle joke. With a nod of her head, she acknowledged him, then shrugged. “I did it for a reason, but I didn’t expect it to match so well.”

Her subtle teasing fell silent as she watched him cover himself; first with his arms, then a nondescript gray tank top she hadn’t noticed when she entered the room. The thought made the smile falter a bit, but she kept it steady, trying to hide the disappointment she was feeling. She had no idea why he felt like he had to hide such things from her. After all, he’d seen her at her worst, cowering in a corner, shaking with fear and confusion.

“I thought you said you didn’t mind it when I looked at you.” She kept her voice soft and warm as her head tilted to rest against the doorframe.

“I don’t…” He paused, running his hand up the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, his hair curling as it tumbled off to the side, thanks to the heat and humidity in the room. He hadn’t done anything with it, since he’d spent the day lying around, trying fruitlessly to rest. “I also don’t mind being seen wearing jewelry, but I just threw my cuff under the desk.”

The honesty became another weak attempt at keeping the mood light, and he shrugged again, gesturing toward the silver band in the darkness near the outlet. A smile crept back across his face, though a bit more devious than before. “Yet, I still have these horrible shorts on. How odd…”

Her comment about having a reason for wearing the orange shirt hit him then, and his mind twisted it as Crow might, offering the notion that it would look good on the floor with his shorts. He chuckled, unable to say anything of the sort. His previous comment had been embarrassing enough.

The smile on his face made Nanao blink, afraid she’d missed it. When she looked again, she hadn’t. Is he teasing me?

His chuckle clinched it.

“What’s so funny, hmmm?”

Nanao tilted her head back upright, then stepped away from the doorframe and moved into the room, making a leisurely beeline for the dully-gleaming streak of silver that had been discarded on the floor. With the graceful ease she was finally regaining, she bent down and retrieved the cuff, regaining her height with the item resting in her hand.

Slim fingers stroked the cool metal with idle fascination as she turned to face him. She was sure he could see her smile in the dimming light, but it inched up even more at the thoughts in her head. “Odd indeed. Perhaps you wanted to throw the shorts under the desk instead. Could that be it?”

Her finger twirled the slowly warming silver around and around in absent motions, but she didn’t notice.

Hayate watched as Nanao crossed the room and reached under the desk, noting the way her shirt rode up a bit and her jeans hugged her bottom even more closely, in spite of his reawakened nerves. She probably hadn’t been thinking about that, but it certainly had the effect of showing off. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel at ease enough to appreciate the view as much as he might have in another situation. He would have preferred for her to leave the cuff where it was, but he’d made the mistake of pointing it out, and now he would have to cope.

Just let it go. Stop being so paranoid.

Watching her stroke it was so distracting he almost missed the comment she made. When it registered in his mind, he chuckled again, bracing his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I did…” He tapped one finger lightly against the prominent ridge of a hipbone, subtly drawing attention to the way his shorts were barely staying put.

Stepping closer, he folded the fingers of his other hand over hers, trapping the warmed silver in his grip. Their bodies were close enough to create a small region of immobile air between them, incredibly hot in the stale humidity of the building. “Believe it or not, I used to model for art classes… I’m really not as put off by nudity as you might think. The shorts are more embarrassing.”

It was just easier when he didn’t know the people staring at him. …or when he knew them really well.

Teasing was something Nanao had always watched other couples do in the past, so she had precious little experience with it. Someone had tried to explain it to her, but she’d merely shrugged and gone back to her book. Now, she was beginning to understand a bit more.

It was like a chess game. The give and take, trying to score some small victory with each move, each placement of a piece, thinking multiple moves ahead... Nanao was good at chess, or so she thought. She watched his hands rise to rest on his hips, attention immediately drawn to the motion against a barely visible hip. The tank top gapped just enough at that one spot to allow an inch of skin to show.

Point, Hayate…

Before she could remark, he stepped up to her and took the cuff in his fingers, the act causing her own to end up in his grasp. Her gaze dragged up his covered torso, so very close, to settle on his expression. A chuckle slipped free, low and quiet in the air between them. “I was never very good at art, but we never had subjects like you. If the shorts are so bad, you didn’t have to wear them…”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, nibbling on it absentmindedly as she looked up at him.

He dragged his hand away from his hip to touch the center of his chest instead, the shirt riding up even higher with the motion of his fingertips, exposing yet more skin. Gravity was still conspiring to have its way with his clothing, so the tank top didn’t stay above navel level for very long, but the shorts still hung low enough to expose the indents below the muscles along his sides and the very light growth of hair along his lower abdomen.

“I promised to keep them on for you, remember? It was supposed to be an exchange, after all, I wear the old shorts, you wear the old pants…” he gestured briefly at his lower body, then reached out to hook his fingers in one snug pocket of her jeans, pulling her a little closer. “…but, if you’ve changed your mind, I’m sure I could find something else to wear.”

He hadn’t even thought about just how lewd that comment could sound in this context until it was out, and though he was horribly embarrassed, he kept his expression calm and didn’t try to clarify. After all, she'd just insinuated that she wanted to see him naked...

Her eyes caught subtle motion, but never left his face, at least not until she was pulled closer. Her free hand reached out for balance, settling on the abandoned rise of his hipbone, fingers splaying along the exposed flesh. A sweep of her digits across the spot where his hand had been moments before showed just how big the shorts were on him. The fabric of the tank top brushed against the top of her hand, leaving behind a ticklish awareness.

Her lip popped free when she carefully licked at it, the tongue retreating back into an almost coy smile. “Oh, that’s not necessary, unless you want to... But, if you changed, it wouldn’t be an even exchange… what would I do with my pants?” She left the question hanging in the quiet air, wondering how he’d answer her.

“I’m sure you could fit into a pair of mine…" there was enough innuendo flying back and forth between them to make a blush break out across the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones, though the light coming from the industrial lamp bolted to the headboard of his bed was dim enough to conceal the fact. He’d been far less confident in romantic moments with Nanao since telling her the truth about his relationship with Crow, but he wasn’t going to let that kind of hesitancy continue if he could do anything about it.

Tugging just a little more on her pocket brought her body into direct contact with his, and he relinquished his hold on the cuff in order to brush his fingers across her cheek, enjoying the unimpeded sight of her eyes and the freedom to stroke from temple to jaw without anything hindering his path. He liked her glasses, but it was liberating to have them out of the way, and he inclined his head, brushing just the tip of his tongue against her damp lower lip before taking her mouth in an unrestricted kiss.

The silver cuff slid from her now nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a muffled noise as her newly freed hand moved to settle on his opposite hip. His body stood in stark relief against hers, every angle etched into her mind as her eyes sagged closed. The chill of fear that she’d been waiting for never surfaced and a long distant part of her mind pondered the reason why, but unconsciously, she already knew.

Everything was different. His scent, the sensation of his skin under her leisurely moving fingers. Even the taste. Especially the taste. Gaara had been almost cloyingly sweet, but slightly toxic, almost bitter in the difference. Hayate was warm spice and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she was too far gone to think more on the subject.

Instinctively, she leaned up into the kiss as her hands gradually slid up to rest along his sides, dislodging the fabric of his tank top even more than before.

He shifted with her, angling his neck a bit more, his hand sliding back from her jaw and into her hair again, fingers moving slowly along her skin until they rested at the nape of her neck, cradling her head as he deepened the kiss. His arms were longer than hers, so it was easy enough to let go of her pocket and loop one around her even as she pushed her hands up his sides, and he placed his hand against her lower back, holding her body against his.

It was too hot for this, definitely to hot to be doing this with so much clothing on and the air refusing to cool even as it circulated around them, but it was always too hot in the building, and he was learning to just let it go as much as he could. His fingers found the knot in the back of her shirt, absentmindedly pulling at it until it released, and sliding up underneath the fabric to feel the soft skin over her spine.

Her back arched under his fingers, a breathy chuckle pulling her lips away from his for the briefest of instants. Nanao wasn’t exactly ticklish, but her skin was so sensitive at the moment, that didn’t matter. Emboldened, she tilted her head even more and slid her lips over his, instigating the second kiss. Slim fingers slipped back, curling along his spine much the same way he was touching her.

The heat and the emotions behind her actions were conspiring to shut down the reasoning part of her brain, leaving the instinctive, reactive side in control. Her skin shivered at the perception that there was no fear with him, no flight impulse, and she reveled in that as her digits stroked up his back to settle near the middle, holding him close.

The chuckle brought a slight smile to his face, more in his eyes than anything else. Their last kiss, just after ‘the discussion’, had been tempered by her residual fear, but this was completely untarnished. When she moved in for the second kiss, he exhaled a soft, low hum against her mouth, tongue moving subtly between her lips, one leg pushing just slightly between her thighs.

His hand descended slowly from where it had been cradling the back of her head, fingers trailing along the tender skin of her neck, down and around her shoulder. It smoothed along her upper back at a languid pace, diverting to one side to follow the sweeping line of her ribcage until his fingers paused, fanned out against her shirt, just below her breast. His fingertips toyed absently with the bottom edge of her bra through the faded cotton, his other hand steady, its thumb sliding over the indents between her vertebrae.

The heady rush that burned through her veins pulled a faint moan from her throat. The heat of the room had multiplied exponentially, but she paid it little mind as her hands sank down the slope of his back, stopping at the edge of the low waist of his shorts. Absently, her fingers dipped lower, stroking the heated skin just under the waistband as she instinctively pressed herself closer to him.

After several moments, she pulled back a fraction of an inch, panting softly against his lips, dark eyes cracking open just enough to peer up at him through the dim light. Her heart pounded out a harsh rhythm, something so audible, she was sure he could hear it, if not feel it. Her skin prickled with indecision, wanting so much more, but so very unsure.

She murmured his name, the sound a breathy whisper, wishing she could find some way to express what she felt.

Hayate met her gaze with slightly drowsy eyes. The perpetual dark shading was there, perhaps a bit more pronounced than usual thanks to his being unable to sleep before or after ‘talking’ to Gaara, but the faint light played it down. His hands remained where they were, fingers still moving gently, still holding her against himself, and the pounding of her heart vibrated against his chest.

His own breathing was a bit shallow, a cough threatening but denied in the midst of this moment. He didn’t want to do anything to ruin this, though Kurenai would probably be home soon, and his bedroom door was wide open, as Nanao had left it. If this went on much longer, that could be a bad combination.

His body was already beginning to react, and though he was old enough and experienced enough to keep from embarrassing himself, he had the feeling that Nanao hadn’t been expecting things to go quite this way when she came to see him.

Very slowly, he inhaled a deep breath and carefully exhaled. “…is this alright…?” he murmured softly, lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

Nanao smiled against his lips, leaning in again for another kiss. Just as she settled into the kiss, a door closed outside, loud enough to startle her back with a soft breath. Hooded eyes blinked several times, like a sleeper waking from a long nights slumber. Her hands stilled as they were, fingers resting against his skin. “It’s more than alright, but I… don’t think we have enough privacy to continue.”

She took a deep breath and trailed her lips over his one more time, then dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. Silently, she fumed inside; the first time she hadn’t felt fear at someone’s touch and it had to be interrupted for decency’s sake. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Hayate managed an ironic smile, moving his left hand down to a less-suggestive position at her hip. Even if he closed the door, the walls were too thin for either him or Nanao to feel comfortable with Kurenai awake and at home. He took another deep breath, just as carefully as before, and willed his body to settle down.

Had he been younger, this might have been very difficult, but as it was, he had enough experience with interrupted romance that he could turn off the hormones quite rapidly. He stepped back just a few inches, finding the discarded cuff by accident with his toes at the same time as making a little space between their lower bodies.

Her fingers were still just inside the waistband of his shorts, resting against his lower back, but that was better than having them higher and his shirt rucked up far enough for his flatmate to see the scars there, should she glance inside. He had originally thought that Kurenai was going to ignore him at all times, but since she’d realized that he was seeing Nanao, she’d been more inclined to peek through his door on her way to the bathroom and her daily ‘spa treatment’. Most likely she did so out of some protective urge, and he’d seen her raise an eyebrow a few times when Crow had been in his room with him, usually perched on his desk or leaning over his shoulder to look at the computer.

Moving his right hand out from under the fabric of Nanao’s tee shirt, he placed it slightly higher on her back and let his cheek rest against her hair. “Can you stay? I actually do have a few things I think you’d fit that are light enough to sleep in…”

Nanao sighed lightly, willing the slight frustration away as his hand left her skin. Mollified by his words, she closed her eyes and took a quiet breath, silent until her heart had stopped pounding. “I’d like to stay…” I could sleep in my own clothes if I needed to… I’ve done it before. Her memory couldn’t reveal how many times she’d dozed off somewhere, book in front of her, still fully dressed. Granted, it didn’t happen often since she moved into the building. It was simply too hot to do so.

As she processed her silent comments, she knew he wouldn’t allow her to sleep in her clothes, so she just shrugged. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time one of them had asked the other to stay. They’d fallen asleep together before, yes, but just because the opportunity had been there. This was different. At this one moment, she wanted little more than to curl up with him, the desire made all the more sweet because he invited her to remain.