(no subject)
Title: Ayer te besé en los labios.
Pairing: Akame
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sad but true.
Rating: G
Summary: A memory of a moment that occured a second or a life ago.
A/N: Birthday present for changetje . Happy b'day ;) Also, based on a poem for which I haven't found a translation.
You are lying on your side and so is he, hands loosely fisted on your shirt and eyes closed, and you wonder if he is pretending to be asleep just like you used to do, if only because he was always more tender when you were asleep. There is a vague memory at the back of your mind, just a memory of some random day when you were younger and love was easier. It could have been a second or a life ago.
His eyes were open back then, dark and shining, lips wet with saliva and red from the kiss. You want to kiss him again now, but you don't want to wake him up, so you try closing your eyes and remembering that moment. You brush your thumb over his cheeks, high and bony in the image your mind replays, but they feel soft and slightly chubby under your fingers, making your skin tingle with a warm feeling that spreads through your hand to your body. He lets out a shaky sigh in your memory, stirs a little where he sleeps on the bed beside you.
You lick your lips, brush your thumb over his and he opens them a little, unconsciously. You try to remember how it felt, go back a little on your memory, feel his lips against yours and they fit perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle put together. His lips are wet and soft, a little chapped where he bites them when he is nervous; he hisses a little when you press your tongue over the area, but moans the next moment when you deepen the kiss.
There are dark eyes staring at you, clouded with sleep and a little confused, and it takes you a moment to realize you have opened yours and you are back to the present. He rolls onto his back, takes his hands from your shirt to rub the sleep away from his eyes, frowns a little when he notices your amused smile.
“What's wrong? Did I drool over myself or something?”
You chuckle, brushing a finger over the crook of his nose. “I was just kissing you.”
His frown deepens a little and he licks his lips, confused, frowns a little more. “What? I don't...”
“Maybe I was just kissing a kiss.”
You hum and he looks at you like he is considering whether to take you seriously or not, and at the end he seems to decide you are just making fun of him, because he cuddles back against your chest and mutters something about being too tired to put up with you and going back to sleep, suggesting you do the same, and suddenly everything is just like that afternoon - a second or a life ago - in which you were teenagers kissing on your bed.
Pairing: Akame
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sad but true.
Rating: G
Summary: A memory of a moment that occured a second or a life ago.
A/N: Birthday present for changetje . Happy b'day ;) Also, based on a poem for which I haven't found a translation.
You are lying on your side and so is he, hands loosely fisted on your shirt and eyes closed, and you wonder if he is pretending to be asleep just like you used to do, if only because he was always more tender when you were asleep. There is a vague memory at the back of your mind, just a memory of some random day when you were younger and love was easier. It could have been a second or a life ago.
His eyes were open back then, dark and shining, lips wet with saliva and red from the kiss. You want to kiss him again now, but you don't want to wake him up, so you try closing your eyes and remembering that moment. You brush your thumb over his cheeks, high and bony in the image your mind replays, but they feel soft and slightly chubby under your fingers, making your skin tingle with a warm feeling that spreads through your hand to your body. He lets out a shaky sigh in your memory, stirs a little where he sleeps on the bed beside you.
You lick your lips, brush your thumb over his and he opens them a little, unconsciously. You try to remember how it felt, go back a little on your memory, feel his lips against yours and they fit perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle put together. His lips are wet and soft, a little chapped where he bites them when he is nervous; he hisses a little when you press your tongue over the area, but moans the next moment when you deepen the kiss.
There are dark eyes staring at you, clouded with sleep and a little confused, and it takes you a moment to realize you have opened yours and you are back to the present. He rolls onto his back, takes his hands from your shirt to rub the sleep away from his eyes, frowns a little when he notices your amused smile.
“What's wrong? Did I drool over myself or something?”
You chuckle, brushing a finger over the crook of his nose. “I was just kissing you.”
His frown deepens a little and he licks his lips, confused, frowns a little more. “What? I don't...”
“Maybe I was just kissing a kiss.”
You hum and he looks at you like he is considering whether to take you seriously or not, and at the end he seems to decide you are just making fun of him, because he cuddles back against your chest and mutters something about being too tired to put up with you and going back to sleep, suggesting you do the same, and suddenly everything is just like that afternoon - a second or a life ago - in which you were teenagers kissing on your bed.