Author's Note: Sensitive Pornograph is the best yaoi hentai anime I have ever watched, hands down. The scenes are both sweet and erotic, and it pains me that it's so short. Thus, here I will try to prolong the experience. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sensitive Pornograph

Turns

I wish I was richer.

Not by much, not like a million or even hundreds of thousands of dollars. Just by a couple of thousand is enough. In fact, if I exactly had $1,899, I would be the happiest man in the world. I would have been able to pay for his conference fee and he would be here beside me now, holding my hand, smiling and tucking himself under my arms as we move around the booths, both admiring and laughing at other manga written by clueless competition and friends. He'd probably hide his real name; the driving force behind the sales of his volumes is partly due to the mystery of exactly who Sono Hanasaki was, after all. But we'd have fun, I was sure of that, and more than that I was sure we'd learn, too.

To prove my own point, as I looked at the handout given to me at the registration booth, I decided to be impressed with the lineup: Manga through the Centuries at 9:45, the Tezuka Osamu Reader after lunch, Western Influence on Anatomy Styles at 3pm… And as if one still had trouble filling up a schedule, there were thousands of stalls selling autographed manga, shirts, mugs, and live demonstrations of illustration, writing, editing, even a primer on proper mangaka diets. It was a good mix of commercial and indie establishments and booths, exactly just like the industry.

It was a manga writer's heaven.

In reality, much of the learning would be coming from me. That was exactly how my editor said it when he gave me the ticket and told me that I absolutely, there-would-be-no-excuses-this-time, had to go. In the back of my mind, I knew he was right. I was good, but I was young; seeing other people as good as I was would open my eyes to the threat of competition, and (hopefully) give me driving force to become better at my field and improve my craft. I was far from perfect; I had the annoying habit of skipping frames, leaving the ordinary reader baffled, and the more experienced ones assuming I was under a frame limit. Neither was true, of course. Sometimes, er, most of the time, I was just rushing the work.

Actually, Sonowas the onewho said going would be good for my career, right after I nuzzled to his neck and whispered that if he didn't go, why would I? The answer was logical and it was really quite childish of me to argue; the conference would only last a weekend, after all. So I kept my mouth shut. But as logical and straightforward to others leaving to hone my craft was, to me, it still made absolutely no sense. It made no sense that he wouldn't go with me. It made no sense that his own publishing house wouldn't send him when clearly at his level, he should be a guest of honor at these things. And, what made the least sense of all things was how he took it in stride, even going as far as saying this break would be good for us.

And that was when the uneasiness began.

On the stage, a bespectacled historian flashed a slide with all the famous manga writers popping out of a timeline that went back as far as the 17th century. It was probably the ultimate dream of all mangakas to appear in any one of those pop-ups, even the small ones, and in fact a lot of the conference attendees had that determined and starry look in their eyes as the historian explained the contributions of each. I could almost smell the ambition. This was precisely the competition Sono was talking about. The ones I should scope out, and the ones I should ready myself for.

But dammit, I just couldn't bring myself to concentrate.

I tried hard to listen, but the words get lost in mind, as if black ink spilled over my world and all that's left is Sono's wanting gaze. Sono looking at me, eyes glistening and hair swept all over his face, saying, breathing, that he loved me.

The break would also be good for us, Souji-kun.

But… why had he said that?

As the talk droned on, my mind worked hard at dissecting each and every moment of our relationship in the past couple of months. It was intense, if there was any word to describe it. I loved him to bits. I showed it, and I thought I was probably doing a good job at that. Other people might tell me to lay off a bit, that not speaking or making love to each other for a day was okay. But, though he wouldn't say it, I felt Sono needed that. And I was glad to play the part of his savior. I'd be his constant source of reassurnace, and if it took telling him how crazy I was for him everyday just to make him smile, even in exasperation, then so be it.

Or was I mistaken?

Did he really need someone like me to tell him he was needed? It seemed like that, after the talk at the swing set. As a matter of fact, I thought Sono always accepting me no matter what time it was, no matter what I needed, and no matter how near his deadline loomed, was a sign. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I was insensitive to his need to work and to his privacy. I timed my presence in his apartment well; I would only go at times when he was least productive, that was my rule, and according to him he was most creative at midnight anyway. In a way, his acceptance of me during the day meant that he wanted me there, too, right?

Right?

People standing up and bumping into me woke me up from my little daydream, and then I realized the talk was over. I sighed heavily and stood up. Well, didn't learn much from that. I glanced at the clock and realized it was lunchtime already so I trudged off to the cafeteria, dragging my heart and my guts along the tiled floor. I lined up, got my food, then sat down on my own, far away from the noise. I needed time to think.

A soft clinking of metal interrupted my thoughts, and looking up I saw a long-haired man had just plopped down his tray in front of me. He was still standing up, so I don't know if he was very tall or my chair was too low; either way I felt like I was in no position to argue with him towering above me.

He sat down, neither asking for permission nor waiting for confirmation if he could do that. I doubt I would have been able to give it; I was probably too busy analyzing how he looked. If I'd drawn men, and I needed a hero, I would probably draw it like him: long hair, masculine jacket, smug look, and probably a brash attitude to go with it. I was stereotyping him already. Sono warned me against that. Much as good as I was, as my volumes progressed, he said he noticed that my characters were slowly turning into stereotypes, molded after previous ones in my bestselling stories. But I couldn't help it, how can I when people like this stranger begged to fall into convention, just by being himself and looking the way he did?

As soon as he sat down, he looked at me straight in the eyes.

"Keido Masaki," he said, as if saying his name was the answer to all the questions in my head. I must have looked incredulous, because he waved his hands about in front of him, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Sure, his name sounded familiar, but I had no idea who he was.

"Sorry, I just grabbed the chance! I've been watching you since earlier, you're Seiji Yamada, correct?"

I swallowed and nodded slightly, then remained silent. Hopefully this guy would take the hint. I was in no mood for a conversation. I had Sono to think about, and that used up a lot of concentration.

"Sorry to run up to you like this, but I was thinking if you could do me a favor?"

"What is it?" I finally spoke, thinking that the sooner I agree, the sooner this guy will leave me alone.

"Can you please give this to Sono? Sono Hanasaki?"

I was too shocked to answer. My mouth must have gaped open while he took out a brown envelope and pushed it in front of me. At the front was a seal, a subtle message that the contents were private.

Was it two, three, ten seconds? I finally snapped out of my shock and realized that the guy named Keido had picked up his tray and was moving away. I hastily grabbed the envelope from the table and stood, running after him.

"Matte!" I shouted. "Sumimasen, Masaki-san, but how did you know I knew Sono Hanasaki?"

He turned around and faced me, looking down once again. Wow, he really was tall.

"We better go for a walk."

I could not believe what I was hearing. In some alternate universe that didn't exist here, I thought I had the right to be annoyed. I knew he and Sono had been close; the way he dropped the "san", like I did when Sono had said it was ridiculous when we were lovers and equals, after all, was a hint in itself. In fact, I should have seen it coming.

It had been a good five minutes of walking in silence when he finally spoke. He was a manga artist too, an ex-lover of Sono, he said. He was younger as well, a good five years, although he was still older than me. They were together more than a couple of years back, and the breakup was bad. He freaked once he found out Sono was a guy, and even if they did it just once, he was too much of a coward to face him again.

He knew we were together because he was still under the same publishing house as Sono, and rumor was quick to travel along the grapevines when they found out that Sono was dating a man for more than a couple of months, a considerable length of time given Hanasaki's reputation.

I felt a quick jab hit my stomach at that, but I was careful not to show that it bothered me. I knew I should be ashamed of myself; I've accepted Sono's past long ago, and who cares if other people think that I'm Sono's current plaything? Sono himself had promised that he loved me, and I loved him back, really, and it shouldn't matter what others thought as long as I felt what we have was real. It wouldn't be long before we'd prove them all wrong anyway, and I just had to wait until they all saw that we were able to make us work.

Not like the failed relationship he had with this guy. Or any other guy he'd slept with, for that matter.

As we turned the curb, walking back towards the convention center, Keido told me that Sono had left a manuscript he had been writing inside Keido's apartment. It was so long ago, but now Keido felt guilty he hadn't had the guts to return it after all these years. He was still probably not ready to face Sono yet, but he found the perfect chance when he found out I was visiting the convention.

Well, that was that, I thanked him and told him that I would send his regards to Sono along with the manuscript. He winked at me as he started to walk away, but right before turning around, I caught a glimpse of the wink and the smile fading away, like it was something he painted on for my sake.

Alone again, I fingered the envelope in my hands and tucked it inside my bag.

"Sono! Sono-san!" I shouted, waving my hands eagerly as I saw him looking around at the airport entrance. One he spotted me, he walked, floated, slowly towards me while I practically ran and awkwardly tripped over the luggage other passengers brought with them.

We stopped when we faced each other, breathless. Gradually, like a mere second was made up of a thousand, he put his arms around me and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. A couple of old ladies looked at us strangely, shaking their heads as they moved along. It was summer, and Sono had abandoned his scarves and sweaters as soon as temperatures topped 35 degrees, exchanging them for thin shirts that showed more of his male frame. It thrilled me to no end, but since then we'd been getting more stares; it was now really obvious that we were two guys fooling around. I didn't mind though, and as if sending them a clear message I wrapped my hands around Sono's waist and turned my head, meeting his lips on my cheek with my own mouth for a soft peck.

We made our way to his car. "How was it?" he asked simply, smiling at me as he drove away. I almost melted under that smile.

"You're right, as always. I learned millions. Plus, I shook Yoshihiro Togahashi's hand. Here, I haven't washed it since leaving," I teased, clasping his arms with it. Teasing was somewhat of a pastime between us; I looked forward to it, actually, and you can find most of our interactions incorporated into my stories. He laughed softly at my gesture, and he did so heartily, like it was true joy and not one of those put-on smiles he gave somebody in way of politeness. I smiled secretly, pleased at myself.

"I hope you listened well to the talks?" he said lightly, knowing me far more than I gave him credit for.

"Of course," I said, and went on to tell him more of my favorite ones. We talked all the way back to the city, about manga influences and favorite authors and how different conventions were these days compared to the ones Sono attended when he was the newbie.

Nearing the edge of the city, Sono gave me a wink. "Your place or mine?"

I blushed slightly, but smiled eagerly. "Yours, Sono-san?"

He laughed. "Well, I did change the sheets."

We barely made our way inside his apartment door when suddenly my lips were all over him. He gave a throaty moan, and his hands were on my belt, fast, unbuckling and tugging and pulling all at the same time. We struggled as we made our way slowly towards the bedroom. Clothes were discarded on the floor, things fell from their respective places on countertops as we bumped them in our haste. Finally making our way to the bed, Sono threw me down and proceeded to kneel in front of me.

"N-no," I managed to whisper, as I climbed up from my position and held his shoulder.

"Is anything the matter, Seiji-kun?" he said, looking up at me with a slightly worried look. This was new. Sono only started to openly show me his worrying face a month into our relationship. Very slowly, gradually, as if scared that if he showed all that he was in one instant, I wouldn't like it.

I didn't know how else to tell him that I loved him, and that I will continue to, no matter how many surprises showed up along the way.

I kissed his forehead in reassurance, then proceeded to get on the bed on my hands and knees. I looked back at him with a determined look.

"Sono-san, I want you to enter me this time," I whispered.

There was a shocked look on his face and a slight tremble on his lips, but it was over as soon as it started. It was like he was hiding his reaction from me once again, but it was okay. The way I understood him, even if he chose not to tell me, was more important and meant more for me than any outlandish actions he would volunteer to do.

"Are you sure, Seiji? This would be your first," he said, unsure what to make of my proposition.

"I trust you," I replied, then smiled a bit to further reassure him. In reality, I was scared. I was sure it felt good, but actually I have never in my entire life assumed that one day, somebody would take me. Back on the plane ride home, I debated with myself for hours and hours. In the flipside of my mind I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but I argued with myself if this was the right time. It was just when I landed and saw Sono's face at the airport that I realized that it was. That we both needed this, that it would seal my commitment to him, and that though I was not the first one he loved, I would be the first one that loved him back fully.

You see, I opened the envelope at the hotel the night before I flew out from the convention. I read the unfinished manuscripts Sono had written five years ago, when he was probably in a state of new love and hoped for the best with his relationship with Keida. He was happy then, even if he knew that Keida was not in love with him as whom he really was. But he was, definitely, happy; it showed in the way the manuscript was written: the story was exquisite, the characters full and optimistic to the brim, probably one of his masterpieces if only he had the time to finish it.

One particular line struck me the most. Open yourself to pain, to destruction, slowly, and if you find yourself being ripped apart then you know you are truly in love. It came from an inconsequential character at an inconsequential moment, but that wasn't surprising since it was the skill of Sono Hanasaki that drew thousands of fans to read his work: the ability to inject beauty in moments you would have otherwise let pass.

At present, even in life, he was doing the same. He grabbed at my ass hesitantly, still unsure what to do. He caressed my back in slow circles, as if buying time. Yet I knew he was holding out as much as possible. He was biting his lip, trying to control himself and not to give in to this invitation that probably went against his principles of martyrdom and self-inflicted pain.

"I'm ready," I said, looking at him directly. There was no way I would let this pass. I promised that to myself a while ago, after seeing Keida's defeated look at the conference. He had his chance and he blew it. Now that I had mine, there was no way I would let us fail.

"Are you really sure, Seiji-kun? There's no going back after we do this," he said, turning his head to the side and looking away.

"Just do it!" I said, impatient, and in that exact moment I felt him push inside me, like a truck breaking in his resolve, in one smooth motion, in one thrust, and I felt like I was being split open in the crashing waves of pain, pleasure, the wholeness of Sono, his essence, his wonderful being, drawn flowers and alternate erotic worlds, being pushed into me, slowly at first, and then quickening, like the pace of the story of how we fell in blissful love.

I may have screamed. I may have exploded. I may have burst into a million tiny pieces, because in exactly that moment, in this tide, I felt, at last, we were truly one.

"Seiji-kun? Your deadline has passed an hour ago."

"Seiji-kun. Your editor is threatening to sue you."

"Seiji-kun. You've been nominated yaoi hentai artist of the month."

"Wha-?"

I opened my eyes slowly and found him looking at me, eyes smiling, face pale and threaded with sweat, a flush on his cheeks but looking at peace.

"I believe you may have passed out on me," he said, giggling a bit.

I sat up with a start and looked around. We were still in his bedroom, our clothes all over the floor, and a sore feeling at my butt made itself known to me.

"Don't worry," he said, giving me a soft peck on the cheek. "It'll hurt for a few days, but it'll be gone."

"A few days?" I shouted incredulously. "Sono-san! What did you do to me? It hurts!"

"That wasn't what you were shouting minutes ago," he giggled gently, yet teasingly.

"Sono!"

"You were making the most delicious of sounds."

"Yeah? Well, you're not exactly Mr. Quiet yourself."

"That may be," he admitted, looking sideways as of remembering something. "But I wasn't the one screaming 'Sono! Sono!' repeatedly."

I wrestled him playfully, and I don't know how it happened but we ended up kissing once again, my hands tangled on his hair.

I pulled out of the liplock and stared at the ground, feeling vulnerable and like a twelve year old. "Sono-san, I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Oh? Why is that, Seiji?"

"I... I was selfish, Sono-san, forgive me! I was always being a bother to you because of my own insecurities. I was scared you'd leave, so I needed constant reassurance," I said in a rush, slightly ashamed and yet wanting so much to tell the truth.

I eyed Sono hesitantly, expecting him to look at me with anger and disgust. Instead, I saw him smiling.

"Seiji-kun," he began, caressing my head. "Did you know why, despite knowing you'd be bothered, I said time away would be good for us?"

I stiffened slightly. He knew? Sono knew?

He giggled softly. "Don't worry, itoshii. I'm afraid the answer is more self-serving than you'd think. I suggested it because I needed time away from you. I had long suspected on this, but I needed confirmation."

"And what's that, exactly?" I squeaked, afraid of what I'd hear. In my head, the silly picture of Sono's ex-boyfriends lining up outside his door, demanding to be let in, cropped up. Silly, yes, but scary. What if a thousand Keido's existed, waiting for their chance to take Sono away from me? I'd simply die!

"That a day without you, even just knowing you're around, is absolutely, devastatingly hell," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss, which we did so passionately. Inside though, I was rejoicing and throwing a party for myself. Sono-san loves me. He really loves me, and only me!

We laughed and finally felt the call of sleep. He snuggled on my chest, but before falling asleep I mused on the outcomes of this past couple of days. In the end, I've learned more about Sono by being without him for a couple of days than being with him for a couple of months. Like a snap of a finger, Keido and the old manuscript gave me a gift lovers from all over the world could only wish for; I suddenly, completely, understood Sono. Understood his pain, understood how valuable he had become to me, and most specially, understood that recovering the manuscript wouldn't be important to him anymore. Sono wouldn't need it. It may have been one of his best works, sure, but he'd already left it behind. He's started on new stories since, and he didn't need any of his past to crawl up on him, reminding him of what-could-have-beens. I was here, and as I held him in my arms, I would be completely, irrevocably, dedicated to giving him what is.

Author's Note: IT'S-SO-FLUFFEEEEEH!

Well. I'm in a sappy mood. It was my second anniversary with my partner yesterday, which is the longest I've gone monogamous with anyone. Yay me!

Anyway, *cough*, do review if you liked it. I don't know how the reception to this will be, but if it's good I might get inspired to write more stories on Seiji and Sono ;) They're such a cute and smexy couple!