Author's Note: Well it's pretty much over now. As you can tell I'm a big believer in quality over quantity, so expect shortness.
Disclaimer: I neither own Eyeshield 21, nor the poetry of Izumi Shikibu.
"In this world,
love has no color--
yet how deeply
my body
is stained by yours."
-Izumi Shikibu
Maybe she's known this rhythm since before. Maybe it's human to know the tangles and dodges of human limbs, and flurried kisses.
Maybe it's him.
It doesn't matter, all that does--
Ah.
And again he starts. Was it a groan, a growl, or a moan?
Her ears are leaking with love. She can't hear him anyway. She can feel him. Stained up to the follicles of her hair, through the air, and up in space.
A flying football.
All that does matter is that she can count to him. To the curving of his tongue.
One. Two. Three, and ah.
And that's it...?