[fanfic] path of the children
Title: path of the children
Author: furtherthannear/askingforlife (fanfiction.net)
Pairing: Kouichi/Raimei
Rating: PG-13-ish
Genre: Romance, tension, nervous, fumbling teens, as per usual.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
--------------
Raimei made him feel like a child.
She made him feel young and afraid, like a colt too far from its mother when the wolves were prowling the town. He wasn’t used to the jolt of inexperience that sank into his stomach when she touched him. She made him gasp and shudder words in the back of this throat in ways boys just shouldn’t. He had always thought of himself as being older and therefore wiser and somehow more at license to use a knowing smirk. He had the rare luxury of never needing to figure out an answer to the question ‘older than who?’ because when it came down to it, he was older than almost anyone-older than Thobari, for certain, and older than his own parents. But Raimei was a rather frightening exception.
He was hyperaware of how sharp her nails were against his throat. They were barely pressed to his skin, but when he swallowed, he could feel each fingertip trembling and it made his mouth sore. Hands were not meant to touch like that, he thought dizzily. They were meant to hold, to cook, to clean, to draw, to direct, to comfort, to write, to kill, but not to touch. Touching did such terrible things to him. Her hands were supposed to grip the hilt of her katana and to deliver the occasional punch he knew he needed, not to pin him against the wall so delicately, four fingers to his neck and thumb brushing his collarbone. There was just something too perverse about it all. Kouichi glanced down the line of his nose and picked out the flicker of her heartbeat in the back of her palm. His eyes locked on and his pulse stumbled faster, following the beat of a dying drummer. It was hard to breath evenly when his heart faltered like that.
“Raimei-san,” he murmured. The way he spoke, hoarse and anxious, deducted centuries from his life so that he sounded the same age he was supposed to be. He felt young. Exposed. Vulnerable. It wasn’t right. “What are you doing?”
She started and glanced up with her honey-warm eyes. They lingered just below his, not quite looking at him, but not looking away, either. “I... don’t know anymore, Kouichi,” she replied, and she took a wary step closer, almost as an afterthought. Kouichi blinked, pressing his back harder into the wall. He needed distance to look over the situation and criticize it. All he could think this close to her was that her voice was too scared to be Raimei’s. She was so much more passionate than this.
“Raimei?” He forgot to add the honourific. Raimei noticed. Kouichi tried to block out the hitch of her breath, the obvious skip of her heartbeat, gripping at the wall behind him with shaking hands, desperate for something material. A new thought had occurred to him, that maybe he used the honourific so religiously because if he didn’t, he could nearly taste her name and it was good. Too good. Kouichi shrank away from her touch, his mind playing a blanacing game between just friends and just let me touch her.
There were some people you just weren’t meant to kiss. Kouichi knew that. They were the people you were often the most close to in life: your best friends and sometimes their girlfriends. It was a divine prank played by God to revenge the fact He could never be a part of what he created. Kouichi had never been victim to it before, but maybe Raimei had. Maybe Raimei had, because she pushed in and placed her mouth over his, even though Kouichi was positive they both knew she shouldn’t. He made a protesting noise in his throat that turned into a strangled sigh.
tiptoes first time alone lines human limits perversity one-more-inch-
He forced his eyes closed, ignoring the sickened, guilty sensation that erupted in his chest, and kissed her back, caught up in how their lips fit together in a not-quite-right kind of way.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
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I don't think this is as good as it could have been. I liked the idea I had (although, it's romance, so there really isn't any idea behind it at all), but it didn't translate so well onto paper. That's what I get for staying out of the fandom for so long, huh?
Time to dive back in! The water's still fine, right?
Author: furtherthannear/askingforlife (fanfiction.net)
Pairing: Kouichi/Raimei
Rating: PG-13-ish
Genre: Romance, tension, nervous, fumbling teens, as per usual.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
--------------
Raimei made him feel like a child.
She made him feel young and afraid, like a colt too far from its mother when the wolves were prowling the town. He wasn’t used to the jolt of inexperience that sank into his stomach when she touched him. She made him gasp and shudder words in the back of this throat in ways boys just shouldn’t. He had always thought of himself as being older and therefore wiser and somehow more at license to use a knowing smirk. He had the rare luxury of never needing to figure out an answer to the question ‘older than who?’ because when it came down to it, he was older than almost anyone-older than Thobari, for certain, and older than his own parents. But Raimei was a rather frightening exception.
He was hyperaware of how sharp her nails were against his throat. They were barely pressed to his skin, but when he swallowed, he could feel each fingertip trembling and it made his mouth sore. Hands were not meant to touch like that, he thought dizzily. They were meant to hold, to cook, to clean, to draw, to direct, to comfort, to write, to kill, but not to touch. Touching did such terrible things to him. Her hands were supposed to grip the hilt of her katana and to deliver the occasional punch he knew he needed, not to pin him against the wall so delicately, four fingers to his neck and thumb brushing his collarbone. There was just something too perverse about it all. Kouichi glanced down the line of his nose and picked out the flicker of her heartbeat in the back of her palm. His eyes locked on and his pulse stumbled faster, following the beat of a dying drummer. It was hard to breath evenly when his heart faltered like that.
“Raimei-san,” he murmured. The way he spoke, hoarse and anxious, deducted centuries from his life so that he sounded the same age he was supposed to be. He felt young. Exposed. Vulnerable. It wasn’t right. “What are you doing?”
She started and glanced up with her honey-warm eyes. They lingered just below his, not quite looking at him, but not looking away, either. “I... don’t know anymore, Kouichi,” she replied, and she took a wary step closer, almost as an afterthought. Kouichi blinked, pressing his back harder into the wall. He needed distance to look over the situation and criticize it. All he could think this close to her was that her voice was too scared to be Raimei’s. She was so much more passionate than this.
“Raimei?” He forgot to add the honourific. Raimei noticed. Kouichi tried to block out the hitch of her breath, the obvious skip of her heartbeat, gripping at the wall behind him with shaking hands, desperate for something material. A new thought had occurred to him, that maybe he used the honourific so religiously because if he didn’t, he could nearly taste her name and it was good. Too good. Kouichi shrank away from her touch, his mind playing a blanacing game between just friends and just let me touch her.
There were some people you just weren’t meant to kiss. Kouichi knew that. They were the people you were often the most close to in life: your best friends and sometimes their girlfriends. It was a divine prank played by God to revenge the fact He could never be a part of what he created. Kouichi had never been victim to it before, but maybe Raimei had. Maybe Raimei had, because she pushed in and placed her mouth over his, even though Kouichi was positive they both knew she shouldn’t. He made a protesting noise in his throat that turned into a strangled sigh.
tiptoes first time alone lines human limits perversity one-more-inch-
He forced his eyes closed, ignoring the sickened, guilty sensation that erupted in his chest, and kissed her back, caught up in how their lips fit together in a not-quite-right kind of way.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
--------------
I don't think this is as good as it could have been. I liked the idea I had (although, it's romance, so there really isn't any idea behind it at all), but it didn't translate so well onto paper. That's what I get for staying out of the fandom for so long, huh?
Time to dive back in! The water's still fine, right?