I find myself hungering for him constantly.
Even now, in the dark, early morning hours, standing here in the lit doorway of our bathroom, watching him sleep on a bed of tussled sheets, the light from behind spilling into the dark room, casting an eerie glow on his sweat-glistened skin, I want him. I should let him sleep. I kept him up, awake just a few short hours ago, loving him until he collapsed against the pillows, exhausted, with a sated smile on his face. But I want him again, want to slide over him, lick my way down that broad expanse of chest, down to where the sheet, tangled in his legs, just barely hides what I want most – to taste him, take him in my mouth and worship him like he deserves.
I lick my lips, still watching him in the dim light from the bathroom. He mutters in his sleep, his head moving on his pillow, the fingers near his face twitching slightly. I wonder what he's dreaming about, hoping it is me. His hair spills over the white cotton sheets in a tangled mass. I took it down for him when I lured him into bed. He'll hate me for it in the morning, but only until I kiss him breathless and take the brush from him. I don't mind. He doesn't seem to, either.
His skin almost seems to shimmer in the light, an after-effect of the paces I put him through earlier, when the night was still young and dawn seemed hours away. Now the night will soon be giving way to daylight, and we will have to leave the bed and each other for a few hours, something I never look forward to, but accept with the promise of having him again at the end of the day.
My hunger for him never really goes away. I find myself thinking about him during the day, fantasizing about him in the shower, envisioning him during seemingly endless meetings. And at night, when he is pressed against my side, skin to skin, I dream of him. I can't get enough. He says I'm insatiable, obsessed. I say I'm simply in love, lost without him. He rolls his eyes, but smiles just the same.
He whispers something in his sleep again. Not quite my name, but his hand reaches out, as if searching for what should be next to him. Not wishing to make him wait any longer, even in his sleep, I push away from the door, stalking toward him bare-footed across the carpet. The bed sags as I place a knee on the edge, crawling to his side, slipping one leg between his, separated by the thin cotton sheet, bracing myself over his body, one hand on either side of him.
I lean down, letting my lips slide over the soft skin at the base of his neck, inhaling his scent – the musky smell of sweat and sex – letting my tongue dart out to taste the salty crease along his neck. He murmurs softly and turns his head to the side, granting me permission even in his dreams.
I smile against his skin as I lower my body to his, flesh moving over hardened flesh, exploring familiar dips and hollows. He moves under me, his head tossing first one way, then the other, his hand moving up and down the sheets, searching, grasping.
I reach his stomach and pull the sheet away, licking my lips at the feast set before me. His cock rests against his belly, half hard and aching to be tasted. Or so I like to imagine. I move lower, resting the side of my face against his groin, nuzzling him there, breathing in the smell of him, knowing he'll taste of the same.
He stirs above me, his hand reaching through the dim light to find my shoulder.
"H'ro?" he whispers and I can tell he's still half asleep. "What're you doin'?"
"I hungry," I answer, rubbing the tip of my nose along his length, breathing warm, moist air over him, feeling him harden under my lips.
He grunts, swatting at me as he would a fly. "Y'just had me, Yuy," he says.
I lift my head to look at him and see him staring at me with half-lidded eyes, blinking at me sleepily in the near-darkness. "I can't seem to get enough," I offer in the way of explanation.
He sighs and drops his head against the pillow. "Fine. Jus' try not to wake me up, mmkay?"
I laugh softly against him, feeling his body relax back into sleep. Permission granted. Mission accepted.
I settle between his legs, pushing one up and wrapping an arm around it, settling it over my shoulder. I let my tongue wander up and down the length of him until he is fully engorged, long and slender, resting against his stomach.
He moans in his sleep as I wrap a hand around his cock, bringing it to my mouth. I rest my lips against the hot, swollen head, letting my tongue snake out to lap at the small indention on the tip. My eyes roll to the back of my head at that first taste of him. Tangy, salty, bittersweet… I can taste our earlier escapades on him, and that only makes me want him more.
I take just the head into my mouth, enjoying the sensation of smooth, stretched skin under my tongue. I suck lightly, letting my tongue run under the ridge. I hear him moan softly and I take a moment to look at him. His eyes are still closed, but his breathing has quickened. I take his cock in my hand and run my tongue from base to tip. His eyes move rapidly beneath his eyelids, and I cannot tell if he is asleep or awake. Maybe both, trapped somewhere in that dream state between sleep and awake. Dreaming of me, I hope. My ego likes to think I'm the only one who can make him respond like this, even in dreams.
I lower my mouth again, taking more of him inside, and begin long, wet strokes up and down the shaft with my mouth, lips and tongue. He gasps softly, and I hear his head toss on his pillow. He shifts slightly, as if wanting more, and I am happy to oblige.
I slide my mouth down his cock until the tip bumps the back of my throat. Lifting off, I keep my lips wrapped tightly around the shaft before taking him inside again, up and down, slow, steady, sucking hard as I move up, wriggling my tongue as I go down and down and down.
"Heero…" I hear him whisper softly as his hand comes to rest on my shoulder again. He whimpers as he breathes out and the leg over my shoulder lifts slightly. As I ease my mouth back down, his hips rock upward, and I have to pull away quickly to keep from choking.
He cries out softly, and I whisper platitudes against the rigid shaft. I take the head back into my mouth, sucking lightly until he starts to move on his own. With one hand around his leg and the other on his hip, I guide him, letting him rut in my mouth, until his fingers snake their way into my hair, clutching hard, and his back arches off the bed, small cries spilling from his mouth.
Moving carefully, in time with his movements as much as I can, I begin to bob my head up and down, up when he pulls out, down when he pushes in. I can feel him grow larger against my tongue and know that he is close to his release. I want it. I adore the taste of him, salty and unique, different from my own, and urge him with lips and tongue to give it to me.
I moan my need in the back of my throat, humming around him. He lets out a sharp cry, body convulsing, breath coming in short gasps. He goes rigid beneath me, drawing in one long gasp, fingers tugging painfully in my hair as my mouth is flooded with his seed.
Greedily, I try to swallow it all, but there is too much and one stringy strand drips from the corner of my mouth, down his shaft to mix with the soft curling hairs at the base of his cock. I suck him until he collapses against the bed, panting loudly, body shaking with the force of his release.
He groans as I lick him clean. I want every drop. Nothing less can satisfy my hunger. I lick him until his cock lays spent against his thigh, and I climb up his body to press my lips to his, mingling his flavors against my tongue.
He sighs as I settle next to him, drawing him over me until he is draped over my chest, our legs tangled in the sheets.
"Satisfied?" he asks sleepily, the pad of his thumb brushing over my nipple.
I let my own hand stroke his side, marveling at the way his skin feels beneath my touch. "For the moment," I reply.
"What time is it?"
I glance at the clock, red numbers blinking in the dim light. "Just after three."
I hear him sigh again. "Five hours, Yuy. That's all I'm asking. Five hours of uninterrupted sleep, then you can do whatever you want, okay?"
"Five hours," I agree, pressing my lips to his tangled, sweaty hair.
He chuckles quietly, his warm breath caressing my skin. "You're insatiable, lover."
"No, just obsessed." No use denying it.
He laughs softly again, his breathing evening out. "Five hours, 'kay?"
"Okay." His body relaxes against mine once more as he returns to sleep. I lie awake a while longer, savoring his taste in my mouth until the warmth of his body against mine lures me into joining him in sleep.
I'll wake him in four hours. He won't mind.