Once More
Chapter 6

The morning comes too soon for comfort, but I smile anyway. I confess I've never been much of a morning person, but this one is special. I move to shift my arm, only to find it pinned down by a very familiar weight. A chuckle escapes my lips, seeing this lovely being. Itto, hair over his eyes and his hand clutching my upper arm, in a manner that seemed as though he was afraid I would leave while he slept. I chuckle at the impossibility, and how unexpectedly cute this whole situation is.

I scan the place, flashes of last night coming back to me in separate fragments and erotic snippets that cause me to feel a throbbing between my legs. I grit my teeth; this matter would have to be tended to once I resolve the matter at hand. I have to call my father. Not to tell him horrific tales of his fickle, bisexual son, but to let him know I won't be accompanying him halfway across the world. But my phone. Where is it? Or rather, as circumstance would have it, where's the nearest phone? I look around, and even crane my neck in effort not to wake my sleeping beauty too early. But the phones are all out of reach, and my head collapses back onto the couch in surrender. I shall have to put up with my old man yelling at me later, then.

But I'll save that for later. Now, I want to cuddle this sleeping thing. I can't describe how cute he is, how harmless and demure when he isn't awake, sarcastic and morbid. But I feel like a little girl looking at a puppy her parents just granted her. One of those… love you and hug you and squeeze you forever things. He'd kill me if he could read my thoughts. I can't resist; I press my lips to his forehead, giving out a little girly squeal.

He stirs, and squints before burying his face into my arm, groaning as he does so.

I lean in to whisper, "Morning, honey"

I see his profile frown, sulk, what ever that expression is called, and finally, he turns to me, blurry-eyed and slightly pouting.

"Too early…" he groans, scowling at me in his drowsiness.

"No my love, it's the perfect time."

"Hmm?"

"For you to release my arm," I kiss his nose, "I'm beginning to lose all feeling in it."

He moves slowly, apologetically, off my arm, to let me rest it properly by my side. I rest my other arm across him, holding him close to me to assure him it wasn't a big issue. He may seem uncaring and aloof to most people, but he really is quite naïve and caring. And I suppose that makes me want to squeeze him like a puppy. It's… cute.

As he sinks into my embrace I smell his hair, kissing it as I do so. I can't kiss him enough. And his scent only reminds me of the night before. The things I smelt, saw, touched, tasted… he filled my senses last night, and remembering these things make me throb again, wanting him. I want to touch this naked body again, as I did last night. I want to fill him and milk from him that thick liquid that I'd tasted, that still stained his beautiful abdomen, and… well, other places of the house, really.

"Yuki…" he sighed tiredly, his hand moving to cup me between the legs as if to affirm what he thought he felt.

That cold touch of his hands burns! I hiss, and shift my legs to feel more of his palm, his fingers against my hardened member. I smile sheepishly as he looks at me with – I regret to say – slight disdain. Then his lips parted.

"You're perverted."

Oh, how he wounds me with his lack of delicacy. He turns away, his cool back to me in a childish tantrum. If I were standing on my two feet my jaw would have hit the floor.

"No," I protested, "I just… happened to think of last night."

No answer, but a soft snort. Why did these things always happen to me in the mornings? I move close to him, that my skin presses firmly against his back, my aching length brushing the crevice of his firm bottom. Which was a small comfort, I admit.

"That is hardly a good excuse," his voice comes muffled. But he does have a point. We'd done it so many times. Still.

I rub my length against his firm flesh, sighing, breathing into his ear, kissing the back of his neck. If he wouldn't help me, cruel thing, he'd have to at least let me do what I wanted.

And then he says over his shoulder: "Come on me again and I'll never let you into my house for a week."

I pause, frustrated, and I pout. A week?? A week, for new lovers, is completely inacceptable! I protest. New lovers, in fact, have to do it every day! If not every other day.

He huffs, "That's just your perversion speaking."

Now that isn't fair. Here I am, with something that shouldn't be ignored, and my new lover won't help me. Not only that, he won't let me… well, jerk off to him.

"But…" I'm a lawyer, and I'm running out of retorts. How am I supposed to make him understand how erotic his entire naked being is? I understand he's not a morning person person either, but… "But I'm your best friend!"

"Smooth," he says nonchalantly.

Just my luck for having a difficult lover. I throw my next card: Emotional blackmail.

"You make me cancel my flight," I start, "throw away a fantastic career opportunity, seduce me in the open – how many times did you say you love me? I forget, I was having too good a time to forget – and now you won't take any responsibility for… for this??"

He sighs in irritation. Well at least I tried. I purse my lips. Anger is not something I can feel towards him.

"Fine," I say, shifting so that I can leave his side. Nothing is going to come out of this.

But he grabs my wrist, and when I turn back I see him smile.

"You take me too seriously sometimes," he says gently, moving to touch me with loving hands, to take my hard flesh. I feel the blood rush as I see his lips move close to me, adoring me with light kisses to the tip, my length, and short, wet licks to my underside.

I shiver, and he kisses. I shiver again, and he takes me into his hot mouth. My lover, my friend. Take me, take me, and love me.

#end#