A Moonlit Fantasy

Dirty little bugger alert!

(Who? Me or him? ^///^;;)


The moon was the only source of light, fine beams bathing the room in soft, silvery hues, hauntingly beautiful against the shadows that the light cast, black, like inky silk. The stark simplicity of the fundamental colours- black and white- gave the room some obscure sense of being utterly abstract from the rest of the world, cut off. An escape. A naturally beautiful haven that creatures of the day would never know of, or appreciate, as if it were some special secret known only by a select few. A time where one could find true peace, or settle their inner turmoil. A time to watch without being seen.

The tiny sound of cloth sliding against skin, amplified by the silence, broke the absolute stillness, as the boy sighed in his sleep, and rolled onto his back. The sounds faded as he immediately stilled, drawn back into the lull of deep sleep, totally innocent to the world.

The pale silver shimmered against the obsidian of his hair, appearing almost pure white upon a sea of black, fanning out behind the form, like a cloak of jet silk. Stunning, just like the boy upon the bed, his pale skin seeming to draw the light to itself, making him look like he had been spun from raw moonlight. Magical. A beautiful, ethereal creature; soft and lean. Sylph-like, almost; a rare treat that only the most dedicated would ever witness, to see the boy in his truest, most basic form.

Ruby eyes watched, unblinking, intense as they flickered with whirling thoughts, seeming to reflect the flame that burned within his spirit. Appreciation, distaste, desire, self-loathing, hostility, care, hesitance, confusion, lust. Emotions rose and fell, like the waves of a stormy ocean, inconsistent and fleeting, but with enough force to send his mind into turmoil, tossing thought patterns to and fro, driving him to the brink of insanity before pulling him back in. Lost. Insecure.

He growled softly as his mind taunted him, showing him pictures and allowing him a moment of sheer self-indulgence, before cold, calculated ‘logical’ thought took over and tore them away, like a cruel father confiscating his child’s favourite toy. He wanted those images, to hold them close, because they seemed to be more honest than the bitter voice that told him that he was meant strong and told him that he was not ‘like that’. Told him that he was disgusting and pathetic. That it was wrong to creep into that little en-suite bathroom night after night to clean the sticky, self-induced mess off of his hands.

Throat dry, he swallowed harshly, trying to will himself to turn away, to roll over onto his other side, where he would have only the simple, white wall for company. Yet he knew that turning away would make no difference, just as he knew that leaving the room, leaving the team and leaving the country would make no difference. He would always feel the others presence, tugging at his mind, like a lure that he would allow himself to be caught by every time.

Blood red narrowed in concentration, almost glowing with the burning of overwhelming desire, as a pale hand fisted in the sheet it was draped across, the other gripping onto the underside of pillow that his head rested upon. Occupying them in an attempt to keep them still, to prevent them from commencing in their nightly wander, a routine that he was desperate to cease yet was growing steadier in its frequency. He wanted it to stop and tonight he would, his mind was set. If he broke from this trap, then maybe he could be free of it all together and cut himself from the fine, invisible spider-web that the other unknowingly cast about him.

As if sensing these thoughts and stern determination, the boy he was watching with such passion shifted in his sleep, a breathy sigh falling from slightly parted lips as he moved his arm to rest besides his head, the moonlight glinting off raven strands as he did so. He settled again, obviously unaware of the fact that the thin sheet that moulded itself around his slim form had slipped that tiny bit lower, displaying a tantalisingly small amount of the marble skin of his bare upper body, and the graceful curve of his neck and shoulder.

The young team captain’s throat became dry once again as his breathing increased in response to the heart that was hammering away inside his chest. His maroon eyes squeezed shut as he felt his nerves begin to tingle with tiny bolts of electricity throughout his body, hoping to block the image of his team-mate, but his mind only succeeded in showing him more. Far more then what was available to him. Soft skin, alabaster in that light. Taut stomach. Smooth hair. Long, slim legs. Yielding lips. Golden eyes.

The heat centred between his legs grew more intense as it flowed like hot oil from the pit of his stomach to pool at his groin. He re-opened his eyes, finding that the room had gotten far darker thanks to the way that his pupils were so vastly dilated, causing the ethereal effect that the moonlight was having on the other teens body and the sheets he was wrapped in to increase dramatically.

He was suddenly aware of his hand sliding across the material of his own sheets, before dipping under to trail fingertips lightly against the skin of his side before moving further on to his firm stomach. He hesitated for but a second, realising far too late that the battle was lost, before he began to tug hastily at the waist of his pyjama bottoms, pulling them down to mid-thigh. His gaze remained fixed upon the object of his lust before him, as he brought that hand back up to gently touch that heat, running his fingers along it lovingly and collecting the small drops liquid fire that had all ready leaked out.

Gritting his teeth in an attempt to hold back his grunts of satisfaction, his body cheered, instantly heating up even more than before, dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with red as his mind began to loose all conscious thought. He moved to rub his sensitive flesh with his thumb, pressing down harshly occasionally, making him hiss with tortured delight. He needed this. He needed to expel all lingering thoughts of his team-mate. He needed satisfaction, to know what it would feel like if it were him doing it.

It had started quite suddenly. One night he had found himself unable to fall asleep, and for reasons that he couldn’t quite place, had turned to observe the other. His fascination for the boy, something that he was unwilling to admit to, had grown as he had watched him sleep and he had found himself wondering about him, indulging in his own picture of what kind of childhood the boy had had, what he was really like, what he did for fun, how he trained. Somehow he had found himself thinking up other, more outlandish fantasies; what did he like to sing? What did he look like when he was fighting? What did he look like when he danced?

To that day, he was unsure of how his image of the other teen dancing became a seductive lap-dance, but one thing he was sure of was that in the minutes following that everything had gone fuzzy. He’d felt strange. Good, he’d felt very good. The next thing that he was truly aware of was that he’d found himself lying on his bed, staring in absolute horror at his hand, and the sticky, white substance it was covered in. It wasn’t the first time that it had happened, but, up until then, his mind had always been blank and the act had been just a moderately enjoyable chore, never before had he imagined that he would react that way to another person, let alone another male.

It didn’t happen again for another two weeks or so, but eventually he grew physically exhausted from trying to hold his raging urges at bay, and had yielded to them, pleasuring himself madly as he watched the boy of his fantasies with intense eyes. In no time, it became a weekly act, and then increased in frequency to every three days before moving onto a nightly basis, becoming routine. He would go to bed late, knowing that the other would be in a deep sleep and so, lower his chances of being caught, though he had to be careful. Once the deed was done- whether intentionally, or unintentionally- he would clean himself up and return to bed, quickly falling asleep. He’d wake up early next morning, get his team up and life would return to normal, until later that night, when he would loose himself in his fantasies of someone who, by day, he treated like everyone else. And so the cycle would continue, and though he was far from happy with himself for those nightly actions, he had grown to grudgingly accept them. Accept that it was indeed, possible to feel something for someone else, even if they were male.

Unfortunately, his desire seemed to be growing stronger by the day. He was beginning to crave the other and though his cool façade never slipped, he had begun to feel that same electricity he had when he watched the other sleep, during the day. The pretence was becoming harder and harder to maintain. Merely brushing past his team mate would send his mind into a torrent of dizzying need. He found himself enraptured with the way that the sunlight reflected in the boy’s eyes and played off his skin and hair, and it was getting to the point when he simply found the sway of the others hips as he walked, provocative enough to spark arousal. The result of which was that his nightly activities were starting to drift into the daytime, becoming near impossible to deal with as he found himself time and time again hunched and shaking in the nearest toilet stools, ashamed at the crudity that he had sunk to. He was loosing his grip, becoming obsessive and desperate, yet still he made no move on his younger companion, he doubted that he ever would, for he was not about to hurt one he had come to think of as a friend and tear his team apart all for the sake of a quick fuck.

And so, he found himself, once again watching the most beautiful and exotic creature that he had ever laid eyes on, touching himself as night became the early hours of the morning. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his palm across his hardened length before loosely clasping his fingers around it, teasing himself with light strokes as he stared at the boy on the other bed. Pressure built up within him as his breathing quickened. Pictures began to flash through his mind- long, dark hair sifting through pale, strong digits; yellow eyes, heavy lidded in passion.

His hand fisted around his swollen arousal, slowly moving in measured strokes.

He saw that perfect body arching up for his touch. Lips pushing back against his own, before parting as he forced his tongue inside, savouring in the others taste. Himself, gripping onto firm, pale thighs, forcing them apart.

He bit his lip to hold back his cries as his hips began to rock, pushing himself further into the friction that his hand offered, fingers starting to stick to one another as pre-cum drizzled over them.

Legs. Those beautifully toned, long legs wrapping around his hips, drawing him nearer still. The body beneath him pushing up into him, grinding their hips together, and causing delicious friction.

His hand began to move faster, jerking on his length rhythmically, harshly. He squirmed, trembling slightly as his breath came out in short pants, gasping for air.

That body, God’s that body drove him delirious, writhing on the bed beneath him, panting and begging, lightly sweating, slick and hot. Those saffron eyes on him, as passionate and as needy as his own as they moved together, the one under him meeting his motions, every time he pushed his way back in.

He lost all restraint, and began pounding on his erection, throwing his head back as a feeling of savage and primitive delight washed over him, sending wave after wave of pleasure through his body, leaving him panting in their wake. His eyes fluttered closed when he found that he couldn’t keep them open any longer. Close, he was so close. The pressure inside of him was nearly unbearable, and he felt that if he didn’t find his release soon, he would surely go insane.

Quickly, he moved his left hand to hover over his arousal as he felt every muscle in his body tighten in anticipation. He barely registered the thin trail of blood falling from the broken skin of his lip, as he held back his moans and cries.

Then something inside of him snapped, releasing all of that tension in one great rush as he climaxed, coming all over the hand that he had placed to catch his release. He arched up, mouth opening as he gasped out Rei’s name, before collapsing back onto the mattress, sated for the night.

Gradually, his breathing calmed and the ripples of pleasure subsided until they left no trace of ever being there. He sighed and opened a weary eye, casting his crimson gaze over to the sleeping form of his Chinese team mate. In complete silence, he rolled from his bed, and stood up, pulling his pyjama trousers back up and made his way to the bathroom, just like every other night.

He made sure not to look in the mirror as he cleaned his seed off of his hands; he didn’t want to see his haggard, pale appearance or his messy, bed-ridden slate hair. Mostly, he didn’t want to see his guilty mahogany coloured eyes. He turned, wiping his hands dry on the hotel towel that lay besides the sink and left the small room, returning to his and Rei’s joint bedroom.

Still moving stealthily, he climbed back into bed, pulling the sheets up to just below his chin, before settling back into his original position. He gazed as his team- mate a moment longer, his eyes soft in the dull light, closing them a moment after, and falling into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~

I really can\'t believe I wrote that, but... someone ordered me to because we agreed that the image of a bishounen...wanking... for lack of a better word is HAWT.

XD;