All Is A Game

It's not that he's asexual, it's just that he never has time for it. And because he never has time for it, people think that he never thinks about it. Truth be told though, he doesn't think about all that much, really.

He never did, not even when he was supposed to at the age of thirteen, when the world is supposed to be a new and exciting place and things happen to the brain and the body. But he just didn't... all that much.

Of course he knows how the act happens, and he isn't, on the contrary to what many (if not everybody who knows him) believe, a virgin. Sex is a natural thing, and he's a grown man. It just happens rarely.

He doesn't really think of himself as much, and he's very well aware of his appearances and that many women don't exactly find him 'hot' or even remotely attractive. Yet, he can get sex strangely easily, and not by the means of paying for it.

It's not that he's deliberately trying to push it aside, it's just that he's very picky, you could say. Not many things make his blood pump.

Up until recently he was wondering if anything at all could. And boy did he find out. And boy did he find out in possibly the strangest way possible. Yes, sex isn't really necessary for him... but that doesn't mean his eyes don't wander.

Although he can't really stand the bigger part of her personality, actually, he's not even sure he can stand any parts of it, his eyes do go to places, and those places happen to be located on nobody else but Amane Misa.

It doesn't particularly frustrate him or annoy him, it doesn't do much at all. The itchy feeling in his fingers is always there, and the sometimes waves of something similar to drunkenness and uncharacteristic restlessness is because of all the sugar he eats, what else?

It isn't like they portray it in the books at all. He's very well aware of the fact that he's sexually attracted to that obnoxiously chatty girl, but his mind isn't clouded by her by any means. He doesn't daydream about her, or wish he could touch her, perhaps because he knows that it will never happen. He doesn't dream about her, then again, he never dreams about anything. He doesn't take cold showers because of her or neglect doing his job just because everything he does makes him think of her.

His eyes just wander. And occasionally they do close, when his imagination teases him with fragments of very vivid images, and lately they all just so happen to be of her, in various positions. His eyes don't stay closed for very long, but just those few seconds are enough torture, and he's in denial, he knows that.

When she catches him look at her, he can tell that she doesn't particularly like the fact that he is the one who looks at her, and not somebody else. He, of course, only disguises it as sheer curiosity, or suspicion in her perhaps being the second Kira, which he already knows she is.

Yet she lets him look and she knows that he is looking and why. She might not be the brightest of the bunch, but being an idol, she, if anyone knows just why he is looking at her and she enjoys that attention. It intrigues him in a way, and he always liked games, so he doesn't stop, not even when he knows that she knows.

She plays the game good as she wears her skimpy outfits, but that isn't what he's interested in, although it is a bonus.

No, no – what he likes is the fact that she knows that he wants her and uses it against him, because this is what she does for a living.

Then again, he doesn't care if she sees him looking, so he plays the game with her. In a room full of people, he stares her down in that chair. Obsidian eyes glide up bare, milky thighs and to the shaded area beneath her skirt as she sits there cross legged. He rests his chin on his knee and hides most of his face behind his arm – apart from his eyes, which continue their way up her body, well aware of the fact that she is aware of him. It's obvious from the way she shifts in the chair so that the short skirt might slide up just another tenth of an inch. She's doing it on purpose, of course, because that too is part of the game.

It's a game of whoever loses first, however they've yet to determine what it will mean to win the game.

He nuzzles his nose into his sweater as his eyes inch higher up her body, around that tiny waist and further up to that soft looking chest... Somebody asks him something, and he answers mechanically, not bothering to take his eyes off her, because he doesn't care what others think, he never did.

She blushes slightly as one or two heads turn her way and back to him, obviously curious about what seems to have caught his attention and why he is staring at the girl like that.

Soon they've forgotten all about him though and are back to bouncing ideas off one another while he is making the blond squirm in her seat.

He resists the urge to smile behind the confines of his arm and looks at those pink lips from across the room and wonders what they would taste like because they shimmer just like some of his sweets. Probably nothing like his sweets, but he wouldn't mind, because he has a feeling that her taste would be interesting at the very least.

Misa's hands grip the sides of the chair for leverage, and he's very curious why because her balance seems to be okay so far. When he notices how her breathing pattern has changed, he understands just why and his eyes close despite himself.

He knows that he should be triumphing inwardly because now she sees him just like he sees her, yet he feels nothing like celebrating when his body is screaming at him that she isn't the only one with issues to keep their breathing still.

Not many things make his pulse quicken, yet hours later when there's nobody else in the room but him and her, who he thought left ages ago, it's quick. They don't really speak, and it's messy and clumsy, his papers are flying everywhere as he rocks between her thighs there on his desk. His computer makes small noises of protest every now and then when his hand clamps down for some balance and he pushes several keys simultaneously.

When she leaves, it's silent and quick and the only thing he regrets is that he didn't even try to kiss her, while he is sure that her list of regrets is relatively bigger.

He sees her again four days later and she blushes slightly while her eyebrows crease with disapproval. Yet when his eyes wander, she plays along.

Fin.