Ran/Yuushi Fic
I come bearing emotional Ran/Yuushi fic! XDD I usually don't write things of this nature, but it seemed to be the right time to pull out the "Romance Writer Within." (ssssh, I'm in denial)
Title: Like Day and Knight
Author: Embervixen
Rating: NC-17
Series: WK Gluhen
Characters/Pairings: Ran/Yuushi
Notes: While nursing a sick Yuushi, Ran explores a side of himself that he never knew existed. Told from first-person, present tense point-of-view by Ran himself . . .
*Written as gift for Schtiel, but MAN, I loved the pairing so much, I got hooked like hell!
Daylight filtering softly through partially drawn curtains is the call from my slumber and I roll onto my stomach, awakened in every since of the word. My hand drifts lazily to encircle the one who lies beside me, only to find the space once occupied warmth now residing only with cool brush of rumbled sheets.
Disappoint nips at my psyche and I confess to find this surprising. When was it I began to care if I had been roused in the company of another? But after last night, my perceptions about many things have changed.
The one who had slept so peacefully beside me must be found. Groggy but oddly refreshed, I abandon the comfort of the bed and pad on bare feet to the bathroom. The sound of my skin gliding over hardwood floors is a faint, sweeping swish coupled with a soft, percussive thump of heel striking first and then toes as I shuffle across the floor with a lazy, ambling stride that lends itself well to the natural slink of my naked hips.
Before reaching for the doorknob, I catch a glimpse of my rumpled countenance in the mirror and have to regard myself for a moment, for something is clearly different. At first glance, I am as I should be, unbound hair streaming down my back in a river of mussed auburn, reaching just beyond my waist, skin as pale as cream-glazed snow. No sign of obvious physical change mars my body, but it is my face that draws me closer. The angular sharpness of my jaw has not softened, nor has the slender, carved lines of every feature that I examine. My expression is untempered by any nuance that I have not witnessed and yet . . .my eyes have changed. Still the same queer shade of startling violet . . . still cat-like and elegantly shaped, but the lavender orbs that gaze back at me lack something pertinent to their very existence.
I blink. The trance is broken and I shake my head as if awakening from a daze.
Odd . . .
The hand that rests upon the brass knob begins to turn it, but is brought up short by the sounds of life stirring within the confines of the lavishly appointed space. One sound in particular compels me with its distinctive, softly-forced resonance that never fails to come in pairs.
Perhaps the scented soaps from the shower had gotten to him.
A wry smirk pulls at the corners of my lips and I should be ashamed of myself for becoming so aroused over the thought of my lover naked, but the feeling dwindles into concern for more than just my libido as the action is repeated. Again. And then again.
My expression melds into something akin to mild displeasure and I waste no time in invading my lover’s privacy, regardless of what he may be doing.
He is standing in desperate repose opposite of the mirror upon the wall, a tissue clutched in his hand as if he expects to make use of it very soon, a towel wrapped loosely around his slender waist his only cover.
Clearly startled by my sudden intrusion, he turns from his position and flashes me quite a lot of thigh in the process, fumbling with the terry cloth as if he fears me bearing witness to his nudity, which is amusing, considering just how often I see him naked.
“R-Ran,” he stammers. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
That is when I hear it. His tone is hoarse, husky and congested, confirming my worst fear.
“Yuushi,” I fairly groan, forgetting that I am completely unclothed as I cross the distance that separates us, to enfold him into my embrace as fiercely as I am able.
“Um,” he mumbles against my bare shoulder, for I am clearly acting out of character, especially this early.
Grasping his upper arms, I pull away, regarding him with a tilt of my head as I hold him from my body enough to conduct a thorough examination of his person.
“You’ve caught my cold, haven’t you?” I ask with a narrowing of my gaze, indicative that I already know the answer to the question.
For a moment, he appears puzzled but smiles in spite of it . . . even laughs.
“Aw, Ran,” he begins in a gentle, affectionate tone. “Are you concerned for me, my darling?”
His playful teasing falters into a look of helplessness as the tissue-clutching hand moves to swiftly press beneath his nose and I cringe as if in empathy or perhaps fear of becoming caught between a state of compassion strange desire at seeing him in such a vulnerable state.
His breathing hitches high in the back of his throat, hinting of the intense need for release. At last, his features relax, denying himself the experience that is needed for any manner of relief.
“Ugh,” he groans, sagging against me with a dramatic sniffle. “I hate it when they don’t come out.”
Not quite so much as I hated knowing that I was the cause of his continued sneezing, I’m sure.
Impulsiveness has never been a quality that I have readily suppressed. My grip upon his arms tightens as I crush my lips against his own in a demanding mating of mouths and tongues, unable to refrain from moaning like a wanton harlot.
Clearly, he is surprised by my overt amorousness but he does little to refuse my touch, choosing instead to return the gesture with a passion that equals my own, if not besting it to some degree.
My fingers slip beneath the make-shift hem of the towel and tug the material free, baring his naked flesh to the heat of my desire as I press the small of his back into the jutting marble of the counter. I am overcome with the need to mesh with his being as deeply as I am able . . . to touch him, to feel him, to comfort him . . . to fuck him.
“R-Ran,” he gasps haltingly. “You’ll be late . . .”
“Late for what?” I reply, nipping along the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “ I’ll call in to take care of you.”
The words appear to take a moment to clearly register within his mind as the fair brow furrows. Clearly, this is unexpected, which is something that I strive for. Predictability leads to stagnation and I must keep Yuushi upon his toes, so to speak.
“To take care of . . . me?” he repeats as if in disbelief before dissolving into a look of what could only be described as adoring softness. “Ooh . . .oh, my R-”
“Sssh,” I silence his expressive sentiment with another kiss, gentler this time. “Now, come and lie down with me.”
I press my forehead to his own as if seeking to absorb the most intimate of energies through touch alone and withdraw with a curious tilt of my head, frowning with suspicion.
“Do you have fever?” I ask, replacing my forehead first with a cheek and then the back of a hand.
The flesh is far warmer than it should be, for I know the temperature of his body better than my own, just as I know the whims of his sinuses. This is no simple irritation.
He laughs, a light, airy sound as if amused by my concern.
“I just got out of the shower, Ran. I’m probably still warm from the . . .”
“Come lie down,” I interrupt with a firmness to my tone that will not be denied.
“Ran, really I’m . . .”
“Now.”
Resistless, he allows me to take his hand and lead him from the warm confines of the bathroom and back to the spacious bed where I draw him into my arms with a firm, swift pull, simultaneously wrapping our bodies in the comforting embrace of the many layers of blankets that line the mattress. The brush of his naked flesh against my own is at once exquisite and unbearable, cooling and temperate.
Although I have sworn that my only care will be of the chicken soup variety, still my hands rove over the taut planes of his body, explorative and demanding, stroking the curve of his side, the slope of his hip.
“Ran,” he murmurs almost dreamily, slinging a thigh atop my own so that I can feel for myself just how receptive he truly is to my ministrations.
His gaze shifts into something feral, smoldering and carnal. I hadn’t the faintest that the topaz ice of his eyes could ignite in such a blatant, raw fire.
“You can fuck me . . . if you want me . . .”
Like a an addict tempted by the lure of an infinite fix, I devour him, craving a depth that I cannot reach through touch alone. The ritualistic, careful preparation of my person is hastened through an impatient slickening, my own fingers divining a shiver from the caress of my fingers over my arousal. Tempering my eagerness for him proves to be a feat that requires a stamina I did not know existed within myself as I part his thighs with one hand, replacing the hand with my body.
“W-wait . .” he stammers, pressing a hand to my chest in a halting gesture that sends my senses into a tailspin of confusion.
“What?” I pant out rather ineloquently, voice ragged with need.
He appears to reconsider his former request, therefore confusing me all the more, but not before a sudden, dismayed cringe sweeps his features.
The sneeze is harsh and sharp, leaving him sniffling and vulnerable beneath me, looking for all the world the picture of abject misery if but for a split second.
It is not as if I have never seen him in such a state for various other reasons, but know that I am to be blamed for his current plight twists things deep within my spirit than I cannot explain.
As if my body can provide the sustenance required for his physically healing, I proceed to fuck him senseless through his request for excusal as if I haven’t heard a word of it. Despite my fervor, my touch is gentle as I gather him into my arms and pull him into a sitting position, forcing his legs around my waist so that penetration is slow, deep and thorough, allowing him control over both speed and depth.
“Mmm, you do have fever . . .” I mumble into the soft strands of his hair as they tickle my cheek with the closeness of his company.
His response is a quivering, helpless sigh of satiation as he settles fully atop of me, arms loosely encircling my neck.
“Ran, what’s gotten into you?” he asks as if he honestly cares.
I rock my hips upwards in response, gripping his hips with both hands.
“You have.”
His thighs clamp my torso in a vice of pleasure as I shove him back into the nest of blankets, adopting a rolling rhythm of sensuality that rends my name from my companion in a languid, moaning cry.
My hand seeks the hardness between his thighs, but his hand stays my own warily.
“If you touch me, I’ll lose myself,” he warns.
“No, you won’t,” I assure him, curling determined fingers around the pillar of flesh.
I arch into him, penetrating him to the absolute hilt of my desire, feeling my own arousal mount far swifter than I could have ever anticipated. And it is then that I see him beneath me as I have never witnessed him before, the silken chocolate of his hair clinging in damp strands to the fair cheeks, the lush, fullness of his lips parted in helpless passion, the curl of his fists as they tangle within the sheets. Topaz fire melds into a haze of need and something far greater. It is a trust that I have never seen, a yielding, unspoken profession of that which the human soul yearns for but rarely experiences. And it is offered to me and me alone.
“Yuushi,” I murmur almost brokenly, for he is truly the most beautiful being I have ever had the privilege of touching and he has honored me with more than just his body. More than just his heart.
As if in a trance, I lower my body to his own so that the flesh seems to meld between sweat and fire as an emotion greater than desire roils through my senses, encompassing my entire being, feeding into the taunt of release until I can stand it no longer.
Fixing him with my gaze, I have but a moment before the passion takes me so thoroughly, that I am unable to speak.
“Yuushi . . . I love you.”
At first, his expression registers shock, then confusion and finally, profound understanding. Word are not needed, for what I have spoken is mirrored within the crystal depths of his gaze, clear and poignant, ever shifting yet stationary.
“Ran . . .you love . . .?”
The icy dawn of his gaze floods to oceanic azure as he arches into my caress with a trembling moan that culminates in the call of my name, over and over until every drop of his passion is milked dry, body shivering with the aftermath.
“Ran . . .I . . .”
My outcry of release masks his response in a swell of choking emotion that ranges from a raw moan to a shuddering gasp, even a displaced sob as I collapse atop of him, panting and spent. His arms slip around my trembling shoulders, holding me there until I am able to regain my senses enough to roll to his side, still unwilling to lift my gaze to his own out of an unknown fear, for I have shown more than mere naked flesh could ever bare.
He remedies this by tilting my chin towards his visage with the tip of a finger.
“I’ve always hoped that I was truly seeing it,” he murmurs, brushing the tearing edge of my eye with a gentle finger. “Here.”
I recall my gaze in the mirror, stoic yet different, missing the jaded edge of a closely guarded heart. Defenseless and attainable, without regret and without judgement, my heart had made the decision without the interference of my mind’s infernal, contemptuous whisper long before I had realized that the barriers had been broken.
His lips press softly to my own to mingle with the salt of passion and tears and he speaks the words that I have known for far longer than the similar voice that now resonates deep within my being.
“I love you, too . . . my Ran.”
OH THE CHEESE OF IT. Yeah, yeah.....I know my Yuushi has a "softer" edge to him, but hey....you get older, you settle down some. It works well with the flow of things, I think.
Title: Like Day and Knight
Author: Embervixen
Rating: NC-17
Series: WK Gluhen
Characters/Pairings: Ran/Yuushi
Notes: While nursing a sick Yuushi, Ran explores a side of himself that he never knew existed. Told from first-person, present tense point-of-view by Ran himself . . .
*Written as gift for Schtiel, but MAN, I loved the pairing so much, I got hooked like hell!
Daylight filtering softly through partially drawn curtains is the call from my slumber and I roll onto my stomach, awakened in every since of the word. My hand drifts lazily to encircle the one who lies beside me, only to find the space once occupied warmth now residing only with cool brush of rumbled sheets.
Disappoint nips at my psyche and I confess to find this surprising. When was it I began to care if I had been roused in the company of another? But after last night, my perceptions about many things have changed.
The one who had slept so peacefully beside me must be found. Groggy but oddly refreshed, I abandon the comfort of the bed and pad on bare feet to the bathroom. The sound of my skin gliding over hardwood floors is a faint, sweeping swish coupled with a soft, percussive thump of heel striking first and then toes as I shuffle across the floor with a lazy, ambling stride that lends itself well to the natural slink of my naked hips.
Before reaching for the doorknob, I catch a glimpse of my rumpled countenance in the mirror and have to regard myself for a moment, for something is clearly different. At first glance, I am as I should be, unbound hair streaming down my back in a river of mussed auburn, reaching just beyond my waist, skin as pale as cream-glazed snow. No sign of obvious physical change mars my body, but it is my face that draws me closer. The angular sharpness of my jaw has not softened, nor has the slender, carved lines of every feature that I examine. My expression is untempered by any nuance that I have not witnessed and yet . . .my eyes have changed. Still the same queer shade of startling violet . . . still cat-like and elegantly shaped, but the lavender orbs that gaze back at me lack something pertinent to their very existence.
I blink. The trance is broken and I shake my head as if awakening from a daze.
Odd . . .
The hand that rests upon the brass knob begins to turn it, but is brought up short by the sounds of life stirring within the confines of the lavishly appointed space. One sound in particular compels me with its distinctive, softly-forced resonance that never fails to come in pairs.
Perhaps the scented soaps from the shower had gotten to him.
A wry smirk pulls at the corners of my lips and I should be ashamed of myself for becoming so aroused over the thought of my lover naked, but the feeling dwindles into concern for more than just my libido as the action is repeated. Again. And then again.
My expression melds into something akin to mild displeasure and I waste no time in invading my lover’s privacy, regardless of what he may be doing.
He is standing in desperate repose opposite of the mirror upon the wall, a tissue clutched in his hand as if he expects to make use of it very soon, a towel wrapped loosely around his slender waist his only cover.
Clearly startled by my sudden intrusion, he turns from his position and flashes me quite a lot of thigh in the process, fumbling with the terry cloth as if he fears me bearing witness to his nudity, which is amusing, considering just how often I see him naked.
“R-Ran,” he stammers. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
That is when I hear it. His tone is hoarse, husky and congested, confirming my worst fear.
“Yuushi,” I fairly groan, forgetting that I am completely unclothed as I cross the distance that separates us, to enfold him into my embrace as fiercely as I am able.
“Um,” he mumbles against my bare shoulder, for I am clearly acting out of character, especially this early.
Grasping his upper arms, I pull away, regarding him with a tilt of my head as I hold him from my body enough to conduct a thorough examination of his person.
“You’ve caught my cold, haven’t you?” I ask with a narrowing of my gaze, indicative that I already know the answer to the question.
For a moment, he appears puzzled but smiles in spite of it . . . even laughs.
“Aw, Ran,” he begins in a gentle, affectionate tone. “Are you concerned for me, my darling?”
His playful teasing falters into a look of helplessness as the tissue-clutching hand moves to swiftly press beneath his nose and I cringe as if in empathy or perhaps fear of becoming caught between a state of compassion strange desire at seeing him in such a vulnerable state.
His breathing hitches high in the back of his throat, hinting of the intense need for release. At last, his features relax, denying himself the experience that is needed for any manner of relief.
“Ugh,” he groans, sagging against me with a dramatic sniffle. “I hate it when they don’t come out.”
Not quite so much as I hated knowing that I was the cause of his continued sneezing, I’m sure.
Impulsiveness has never been a quality that I have readily suppressed. My grip upon his arms tightens as I crush my lips against his own in a demanding mating of mouths and tongues, unable to refrain from moaning like a wanton harlot.
Clearly, he is surprised by my overt amorousness but he does little to refuse my touch, choosing instead to return the gesture with a passion that equals my own, if not besting it to some degree.
My fingers slip beneath the make-shift hem of the towel and tug the material free, baring his naked flesh to the heat of my desire as I press the small of his back into the jutting marble of the counter. I am overcome with the need to mesh with his being as deeply as I am able . . . to touch him, to feel him, to comfort him . . . to fuck him.
“R-Ran,” he gasps haltingly. “You’ll be late . . .”
“Late for what?” I reply, nipping along the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “ I’ll call in to take care of you.”
The words appear to take a moment to clearly register within his mind as the fair brow furrows. Clearly, this is unexpected, which is something that I strive for. Predictability leads to stagnation and I must keep Yuushi upon his toes, so to speak.
“To take care of . . . me?” he repeats as if in disbelief before dissolving into a look of what could only be described as adoring softness. “Ooh . . .oh, my R-”
“Sssh,” I silence his expressive sentiment with another kiss, gentler this time. “Now, come and lie down with me.”
I press my forehead to his own as if seeking to absorb the most intimate of energies through touch alone and withdraw with a curious tilt of my head, frowning with suspicion.
“Do you have fever?” I ask, replacing my forehead first with a cheek and then the back of a hand.
The flesh is far warmer than it should be, for I know the temperature of his body better than my own, just as I know the whims of his sinuses. This is no simple irritation.
He laughs, a light, airy sound as if amused by my concern.
“I just got out of the shower, Ran. I’m probably still warm from the . . .”
“Come lie down,” I interrupt with a firmness to my tone that will not be denied.
“Ran, really I’m . . .”
“Now.”
Resistless, he allows me to take his hand and lead him from the warm confines of the bathroom and back to the spacious bed where I draw him into my arms with a firm, swift pull, simultaneously wrapping our bodies in the comforting embrace of the many layers of blankets that line the mattress. The brush of his naked flesh against my own is at once exquisite and unbearable, cooling and temperate.
Although I have sworn that my only care will be of the chicken soup variety, still my hands rove over the taut planes of his body, explorative and demanding, stroking the curve of his side, the slope of his hip.
“Ran,” he murmurs almost dreamily, slinging a thigh atop my own so that I can feel for myself just how receptive he truly is to my ministrations.
His gaze shifts into something feral, smoldering and carnal. I hadn’t the faintest that the topaz ice of his eyes could ignite in such a blatant, raw fire.
“You can fuck me . . . if you want me . . .”
Like a an addict tempted by the lure of an infinite fix, I devour him, craving a depth that I cannot reach through touch alone. The ritualistic, careful preparation of my person is hastened through an impatient slickening, my own fingers divining a shiver from the caress of my fingers over my arousal. Tempering my eagerness for him proves to be a feat that requires a stamina I did not know existed within myself as I part his thighs with one hand, replacing the hand with my body.
“W-wait . .” he stammers, pressing a hand to my chest in a halting gesture that sends my senses into a tailspin of confusion.
“What?” I pant out rather ineloquently, voice ragged with need.
He appears to reconsider his former request, therefore confusing me all the more, but not before a sudden, dismayed cringe sweeps his features.
The sneeze is harsh and sharp, leaving him sniffling and vulnerable beneath me, looking for all the world the picture of abject misery if but for a split second.
It is not as if I have never seen him in such a state for various other reasons, but know that I am to be blamed for his current plight twists things deep within my spirit than I cannot explain.
As if my body can provide the sustenance required for his physically healing, I proceed to fuck him senseless through his request for excusal as if I haven’t heard a word of it. Despite my fervor, my touch is gentle as I gather him into my arms and pull him into a sitting position, forcing his legs around my waist so that penetration is slow, deep and thorough, allowing him control over both speed and depth.
“Mmm, you do have fever . . .” I mumble into the soft strands of his hair as they tickle my cheek with the closeness of his company.
His response is a quivering, helpless sigh of satiation as he settles fully atop of me, arms loosely encircling my neck.
“Ran, what’s gotten into you?” he asks as if he honestly cares.
I rock my hips upwards in response, gripping his hips with both hands.
“You have.”
His thighs clamp my torso in a vice of pleasure as I shove him back into the nest of blankets, adopting a rolling rhythm of sensuality that rends my name from my companion in a languid, moaning cry.
My hand seeks the hardness between his thighs, but his hand stays my own warily.
“If you touch me, I’ll lose myself,” he warns.
“No, you won’t,” I assure him, curling determined fingers around the pillar of flesh.
I arch into him, penetrating him to the absolute hilt of my desire, feeling my own arousal mount far swifter than I could have ever anticipated. And it is then that I see him beneath me as I have never witnessed him before, the silken chocolate of his hair clinging in damp strands to the fair cheeks, the lush, fullness of his lips parted in helpless passion, the curl of his fists as they tangle within the sheets. Topaz fire melds into a haze of need and something far greater. It is a trust that I have never seen, a yielding, unspoken profession of that which the human soul yearns for but rarely experiences. And it is offered to me and me alone.
“Yuushi,” I murmur almost brokenly, for he is truly the most beautiful being I have ever had the privilege of touching and he has honored me with more than just his body. More than just his heart.
As if in a trance, I lower my body to his own so that the flesh seems to meld between sweat and fire as an emotion greater than desire roils through my senses, encompassing my entire being, feeding into the taunt of release until I can stand it no longer.
Fixing him with my gaze, I have but a moment before the passion takes me so thoroughly, that I am unable to speak.
“Yuushi . . . I love you.”
At first, his expression registers shock, then confusion and finally, profound understanding. Word are not needed, for what I have spoken is mirrored within the crystal depths of his gaze, clear and poignant, ever shifting yet stationary.
“Ran . . .you love . . .?”
The icy dawn of his gaze floods to oceanic azure as he arches into my caress with a trembling moan that culminates in the call of my name, over and over until every drop of his passion is milked dry, body shivering with the aftermath.
“Ran . . .I . . .”
My outcry of release masks his response in a swell of choking emotion that ranges from a raw moan to a shuddering gasp, even a displaced sob as I collapse atop of him, panting and spent. His arms slip around my trembling shoulders, holding me there until I am able to regain my senses enough to roll to his side, still unwilling to lift my gaze to his own out of an unknown fear, for I have shown more than mere naked flesh could ever bare.
He remedies this by tilting my chin towards his visage with the tip of a finger.
“I’ve always hoped that I was truly seeing it,” he murmurs, brushing the tearing edge of my eye with a gentle finger. “Here.”
I recall my gaze in the mirror, stoic yet different, missing the jaded edge of a closely guarded heart. Defenseless and attainable, without regret and without judgement, my heart had made the decision without the interference of my mind’s infernal, contemptuous whisper long before I had realized that the barriers had been broken.
His lips press softly to my own to mingle with the salt of passion and tears and he speaks the words that I have known for far longer than the similar voice that now resonates deep within my being.
“I love you, too . . . my Ran.”
OH THE CHEESE OF IT. Yeah, yeah.....I know my Yuushi has a "softer" edge to him, but hey....you get older, you settle down some. It works well with the flow of things, I think.