yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2011-11-26 03:58 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2011-11-26 03:58 pm
Entry tags:
260;
Title: dreams I
Characters: Chizuru Tachibana, Masaki Sato (dream)
Rating: PG
It's another dream, but instead of watching her pull her shirt off (smooth, pale skin; a little higher and he could see the slight roundness of her breasts, shadowed by the rising shirt--) he's the one slipping his fingers against the hem of her skirt, licking his lips nervously as he tugs the blouse out inch by inch and sneaking his hand underneath, stalling when he feels her breath quicken and continuing after a moment, unsure (for once) of what to do and how to act. Up, up, up he pushes it, smoothing his palms along her small waist and hips, feeling his fignertips skirt the edge of those breasts he had mocked weren't there (you couldn't see them through the shirt, but they were there, soft and sensitive to fingernails and the delicate measures he took to resist taking them into his own hands). The little sounds she makes are music to his ears; the little hitches of breath, the little moans half-bitten off, the rising blush that spreads from her neck to the tips of her ears, and he kisses the shell of her right one before he slips the shirt off, finally, and swallows nervously at the sight of her slightly arched back, the thin amount of fat and skin separating rib from air being stretched as she moves with his touch.
The way he knows it's a dream is that this Masaki doesn't curse and hit him; she's red and a little angry looking, embarrassed and frustrated, and she's as unsure as him. He tries not to let it show - Chizuru Tachibana was not a guy who was hesitant in his actions - and leans in to kiss her neck, closing his eyes --
and opening them to the sound of his alarm clock screeching beside him. He's breathing heavily, a cold sweat matting his bangs to his forehead, and he pushes them back, staring at the ceiling in a daze.
Then, he groans and sprints for the bathroom, an uneasy pressure building in his chest as he lets the cold water beat against his chest and remembers the fiery, daring, flustered eyes of the girl from his dreams.
Characters: Chizuru Tachibana, Masaki Sato (dream)
Rating: PG
It's another dream, but instead of watching her pull her shirt off (smooth, pale skin; a little higher and he could see the slight roundness of her breasts, shadowed by the rising shirt--) he's the one slipping his fingers against the hem of her skirt, licking his lips nervously as he tugs the blouse out inch by inch and sneaking his hand underneath, stalling when he feels her breath quicken and continuing after a moment, unsure (for once) of what to do and how to act. Up, up, up he pushes it, smoothing his palms along her small waist and hips, feeling his fignertips skirt the edge of those breasts he had mocked weren't there (you couldn't see them through the shirt, but they were there, soft and sensitive to fingernails and the delicate measures he took to resist taking them into his own hands). The little sounds she makes are music to his ears; the little hitches of breath, the little moans half-bitten off, the rising blush that spreads from her neck to the tips of her ears, and he kisses the shell of her right one before he slips the shirt off, finally, and swallows nervously at the sight of her slightly arched back, the thin amount of fat and skin separating rib from air being stretched as she moves with his touch.
The way he knows it's a dream is that this Masaki doesn't curse and hit him; she's red and a little angry looking, embarrassed and frustrated, and she's as unsure as him. He tries not to let it show - Chizuru Tachibana was not a guy who was hesitant in his actions - and leans in to kiss her neck, closing his eyes --
and opening them to the sound of his alarm clock screeching beside him. He's breathing heavily, a cold sweat matting his bangs to his forehead, and he pushes them back, staring at the ceiling in a daze.
Then, he groans and sprints for the bathroom, an uneasy pressure building in his chest as he lets the cold water beat against his chest and remembers the fiery, daring, flustered eyes of the girl from his dreams.