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Darkness crept slowly, soundlessly, engulfing the apartment and would have swallowed it whole if it wasn’t for the city lights peeking from behind the curtains of your bedroom. The faint glow dappled on your lover’s face, on his defined jawline and closed lids, on his crimson locks and fair skin, and it was almost surreal how the rough tempo he was maintaining didn't stop you from feeling like he handled you with so much gentle affection. Your fingertips carefully threaded their way to his chest, sending feather-light strokes that made him quiver. He opened his eyes to look at you and you suddenly wondered why those tired eyes reminded you of the restless city beneath; of neon signs and busy streets and radiant skyscrapers.
Seijuurou let out a low chuckle upon seeing your hazed self on his lap, desire twinkling in his red orbs. Leaning in, the man sent kisses down your neck and collarbone, and a whimper escaped your lips as he started nibbling them playfully; leaving behind ruby patches of adoration that appeared striking against the naked flesh. He was quite fond of leaving marks on your body, and you realized it had been a while since he left bruises on your skin. Not that you minded, of course. His lips were hot on your bare skin and you thought, strangely, of the fireplace crackling in the corner of the room.
A finger brushed against your lips and you shuddered at how his touch reminded you of passionate summers in Okinawa, the kind that left nothing but desire burning in your chest. You parted your lips ever so slightly and he took it as an invitation, letting out a shaky breath as you slowly sucked his finger. Hungry gaze followed you intensely, imprinting every movement you made, every pleasant sound from your mouth and every curve of your body into his head.
“Beautiful.”
His husky voice sparked stammers of sensation down your spine; the ghost of his breath tickled your ears as he spoke.
“I... c-can’t... Seijuurou,” you stuttered between labored breaths, embarrasment started to seep into your face as you came hard on his lap.
He smiled at you, seemingly satisfied, but the curve of his mouth gradually disappeared and was replaced with a look of urgency as his rhytm became even quicker and harsher, and for a moment you thought you were going to break. He allowed himself release as he crushed his lips upon yours; and you weren’t quite sure if he’s trying to muffle your cry or his own. It was overwhelmingly pleasant, you told him the next day, but strangely you were reminded of nothing.
You were quite unable to think of anything at all.
***
The distinctive scent of jasmine and ginger brought a certain red-haired man back from a deep slumber, forcing him to open his eyes. Holding a cup of tea in one hand, you propped yourself down on the bed and observed your sleepy lover, wondering how on earth did he manage to look alarmingly handsome even though it was still so early in the morning and he literally just woke up.
“Good morning, hot stuff.”
“Good morning to you too... gorgeous,” he smiled seeing you in his sweater, looking adorable with the fabric almost reaching your knees and your fingertips peeking from behind the long sleeves. He gratefully accepted the hot drink from you and sipped it, eyes slowly gaining focus. You giggled seeing his disoriented state and pecked his lips, the taste of flower and bitter tea welcomed you when he finally melted into the kiss.
Your mug was still steaming when you finally came back to the coffee table, and you relished the refined taste of spices on your tongue. It was the middle of December; Tokyo sky was particularly morose that morning with the sun being nowhere in sight and clusters of gray clouds hanging above the city. Breeze of winter wind made its way through the glass window of your balcony and softly ruffled your hair, making you shiver. Seijuurou had reprimanded you for letting it open during such cold weather, but you refused to close it, anyway; because to you, winter atmosphere was always calming. Gloomy days brought back pleasant memories from your earlier years, the mesmerizing snowfall and cold days spent with him flooded your mind.
“The city does look beautiful in white,” Seijuurou sat on the chair next to you, eyeing the Tokyo skyline. “Is that why you’ve been spacing out?”
“Eh? No. I wasn’t even aware that I’ve been daydreaming,” you blinked.
“... I can hear you thinking.”
His voice was laced with concern and his eyes looked at you questioningly. You gave him a slight smile, making no attempt to respond because you really didn’t know what to say. He let out an amused sigh at your reaction and reached out for your hands, interlacing them with his own.
“How soft,” his finger gently stroked your knuckles, and you found comfort in the warmth of his hands. He had this habit of playing with your limbs whenever the opportunity presented itself; like leaving kisses from the tip of your toes and all the way to your thigh during intercourse, nuzzling your hand with his nose when he was feeling particularly affectionate, or simply tracing lines on your arm with his fingers before drifting off to sleep. It was adorable, you mused, how the seemingly distant Akashi heir was actually a rather expressive lover.
But the tender moment was interrupted when his phone rang; and you couldn’t help the pained expression on your face.
That, too, was inevitable.
Family came first, you were always told. Being the only child meant that the burden to keep the business thrive was solely yours. Both you and Seijuurou were expected to take over your respective companies as soon as the patriarchs retire, and thus marrying each other was out of question. Merging two giant conglomerates was not as simple as it sounded for there would be so much at stake, not to mention the unnecessary tension that might occur in both families. If the patriarchs weren’t so obsessed with monopolizing the market then things would have been a lot easier, but you were so damn sure that neither your father nor his would be willing to sacrifice their pride for something as trivial as their children’s marriage.
The purposely late night dinners, the brief encounters at dawn, the secret smile you stole during meetings. You thought that slowly you would get used to everything, that the pain would not be as unbearable as it was in the beginning. But you were wrong.
“Understood. I will be there in thirty minutes,” Seijuurou’s voice broke your thoughts away. He sighed and apology was clear in his eyes. You sadly nodded, because honestly you didn’t know what else you could do.
You helped him dressed and handed him a newly-ironed white shirt from your closet (it was his shirt, of course, that he had forgotten a week ago). The smell of his perfume invaded your nose – you gave it to him as a congratulatory gift for a successful deal – and you couldn’t help but enjoy his scent; of peppermint leaves and cedarwood, of tranquility and casualness and great radiance that’s just so like him. He leaned in to kiss your forehead when you were busy knotting his tie, and chuckled seeing the soft blush gracing your cheeks because of his little display of admiration.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, taking his coat from your hand. “Thank you for everything, Love. I promise I’ll see you again later,” he gave you a small peck on the lips and headed outside.
“Take care. I love you, Sei.”
“I love you too. Hey... we’ll make it, somehow, someday.”
You dryly smiled and he disappeared into the elevator. The truth was you didn’t even know anymore.
But he kept his promise and showed up in front of your door that night – looking tired and dishveled and defeated – and you found yourself unable to do anything as he slid the straps of the nightgown off your shoulder.
***
It was the birthday gala of a mutual friend, and you chuckled to yourself seeing how the bureaucrats’ wives attempted to make Seijuurou dance with their heavily-polished, saccharine-sweet daughters. He would politely accept, of course, he was the Akashi after all – and you watched how the girls’ face would lit up in hopefulness as one of the most eligible bachelors in Japan guided them on the ballroom. You knew better than to be jealous; most of the time, he would be the one treating you so carefully after parties, whispering how he hated seeing those lesser men looked at you with desire practically oozing from their pores.
By the time he finished entertaining the girls, he went straight for you. You slightly bowed at him as he made his way to you and your colleagues, pretending it was a coincidence even though you were the one who picked that suit for him earlier that evening and he was the one who put on the golden ring you wore on your finger. Your companions acknowledged him and left, afraid that he might be there to discuss some ordeal that they had no right to listen to. Every time you crossed paths with him in public, people would always step aside and make ways for both of you; saying it’s not everyday that they got to see two big names in business conversing with each other so casually.
You could only laugh. If only they knew.
“You seem to be having fun,” you teased him, a cream-stained silver fork swirling between your fingers.
“I can say the same to you. Who were those people again? They seemed to be really enthralled by your appearance tonight,” he said, swiftly taking a glass of liquor from the passing waiter. “... although I see they were really curious about that gold band on your finger,” he added as an afterthought, and you could sense the slightest hint of possessiveness in his voice.
“Maybe because this ring is really beautiful,” you gently replied, beaming as his smile soften at your words of appreciation.
He leaned in and you thought he was reaching out for something behind your back, but he halted his movements to whisper in your ear instead.
“But you, Love, are far more breathtaking, don’t you know that?”
His voice was low, just loud enough for you to hear; and although you’d lost count on how many compliments you received that night you were glad to know that he actually thought you looked... nice.
He extended a hand, asking you to have his last dance of that night and the whole ballroom shifted their attention in an instant – curious to how you would respond. They might be oblivious to your affair, but they were far from stupid; some would notice that while other girls flocked to him like moths attracted to flame, you kept calm and even hesitated for a brief moment before finally accepting his offer with a polite smile.
You heard murmurs of wonder and questioning whispers between your own careful steps. How the successors of two bitter, fierce rivals danced so beautifully across the marble tile was apparently beyond their comprehension. Their curiosity was only fair, of course, because they didn’t know Seijuurou would rest his head on your shoulder and let his fingers dance to your soft hum during lazy bubble baths. They didn’t know how Seijuurou would sometimes sneak behind you at night and just casually lead you to a slow waltz; and after spending countless midnights with him you actually remembered his movements like the back of your hand.
When the clock struck eleven the guests dispersed themselves, and you bid goodbye to your colleagues and him as you exited the dining hall.
But he slept next to you later that night, too.
***
“Will you sing me to sleep?”
You blinked at his request and looked up from your book. It was a particularly exhausting night for the two of you, and just like any other nights; Seijuurou came to you for comfort. He was looking at you with groggy eyes, lazily resting his head on the headboard of the bed and his own book seemed to be long abandoned on his lap. It had became somewhat of a habit to read before bed, while the scent of freshly-picked roses and peppermint still lingered in the air after the late night shower.
“I’d love to, but... It's two in the morning. I'd sound like a dying whale, Sei.”
“Then tell me a story.”
You smiled and took your reading glasses off.
“About what?”
A pause. “Something I don’t know.”
“But I thought you know everything?” your tone was teasing and he let out a low chuckle.
His knuckles softly stroked your cheek and you absentmindedly sighed in contentment against his touch. Soft lips met your neck, wet and warm against the flushed skin of your body; and it tickled.
“I never said so,” he muttered between kisses. “I can never figure out what’s going on inside this busy head of yours.”
“That’s my line.”
He stopped his sloppy kisses and shifted his attention to your hand.
“You want to know what’s running inside my mind?” he asked, gently taking it and kissed your fingertips. Murmuring a low ‘yes’, you couldn’t help but smile when his lips slowly went up to the back of your hand before peppering gentle affection all the way to your shoulder.
“You. It’s always been you.”
It was almost like an invitation, a tease; like every other sweet words he would whisper before undressing you. But his voice cracked, lacking the playfulness you’d come to recognize and his supposedly fiery eyes were solemn. Passion sated between the sheets and the bed, and even though there was a flicker of desire in his touch, you were too tired to rekindle that flame even if you wanted to.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” you repeated his words.
He kissed your lips like his life depended on it, and you took it as an answer.
***