Title: Thoughts
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Not in a million years.
Notes: I don't know where this came from.
I hate you, you know.
I hate that I can tell when you walk into a room, even without looking at the door. I hate that I can smell your scent in a crowded room. Mostly though, I hate you for the way you make me feel.
I want you. God, I want you so badly.
I want to tear off that uniform of yours with my teeth and see if your skin really does taste the way I imagine it would, like warm honey and rose petals and you. I want to see your face, hear your voice when you are aroused and aching for me. I want to screw you into next week.
I hate you for that.
You're looking at me now, those damn bedroom eyes open with shock, like you've just heard something you can't believe. Bet you'd look at me that way if you could hear this, if you could somehow read my mind. Lucky for me you can't. What would you do with the knowledge that I want so very badly to jump your bones?
Now you're blushing. I never thought I'd see the day when Touga, playboy, would actually blush. Do you know what they whisper about you? They say you've slept with half the school. You must be slipping if it's only HALF. And the things they say about you, about the way you are in bed... I'd almost give anything to know if they were true.
I hate that you make me think things like that.
Somedays it's so hard to keep from shoving you up against the nearest wall and attempting to kiss you senseless. I want to hear you, moaning my name, vocalizing your pleasure in that voice of yours.
It ought to be illegal to have a voice like yours. I wonder if you know that you sound like raw sex. It's sad really, how just the sound of you voice can make my knees weak and my heart race, not to mention the interesting havoc it plays with my libido. I dream about your voice at night, and wake up covered in sweat and hopelessly tangled in the sheets. Anthy thinks I have nightmares. I couldn't possibly tell
her the truth.
I wonder what you dream about at night, what you imagine when you touch yourself. Is it me? I want it to be me. I feel dirty even admitting that, but it's true. I want you to want me.
I hate you for that. I push you away because of that, and I ran away every time we get close for one very simple reason. I can't trust myself around you, and you don't need any more ammunition to use against me. I can't control myself for long, not with you right in
front of me where it would be so easy to make some of those sweaty dreams I have at night come true.
You're staring at me. Stop that. I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from doing something rash if you don't.
Stop it.
God.
I hate you.
I want you.
Stop looking at me, Touga, please, just stop.
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Not in a million years.
Notes: I don't know where this came from.
I hate you, you know.
I hate that I can tell when you walk into a room, even without looking at the door. I hate that I can smell your scent in a crowded room. Mostly though, I hate you for the way you make me feel.
I want you. God, I want you so badly.
I want to tear off that uniform of yours with my teeth and see if your skin really does taste the way I imagine it would, like warm honey and rose petals and you. I want to see your face, hear your voice when you are aroused and aching for me. I want to screw you into next week.
I hate you for that.
You're looking at me now, those damn bedroom eyes open with shock, like you've just heard something you can't believe. Bet you'd look at me that way if you could hear this, if you could somehow read my mind. Lucky for me you can't. What would you do with the knowledge that I want so very badly to jump your bones?
Now you're blushing. I never thought I'd see the day when Touga, playboy, would actually blush. Do you know what they whisper about you? They say you've slept with half the school. You must be slipping if it's only HALF. And the things they say about you, about the way you are in bed... I'd almost give anything to know if they were true.
I hate that you make me think things like that.
Somedays it's so hard to keep from shoving you up against the nearest wall and attempting to kiss you senseless. I want to hear you, moaning my name, vocalizing your pleasure in that voice of yours.
It ought to be illegal to have a voice like yours. I wonder if you know that you sound like raw sex. It's sad really, how just the sound of you voice can make my knees weak and my heart race, not to mention the interesting havoc it plays with my libido. I dream about your voice at night, and wake up covered in sweat and hopelessly tangled in the sheets. Anthy thinks I have nightmares. I couldn't possibly tell
her the truth.
I wonder what you dream about at night, what you imagine when you touch yourself. Is it me? I want it to be me. I feel dirty even admitting that, but it's true. I want you to want me.
I hate you for that. I push you away because of that, and I ran away every time we get close for one very simple reason. I can't trust myself around you, and you don't need any more ammunition to use against me. I can't control myself for long, not with you right in
front of me where it would be so easy to make some of those sweaty dreams I have at night come true.
You're staring at me. Stop that. I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from doing something rash if you don't.
Stop it.
God.
I hate you.
I want you.
Stop looking at me, Touga, please, just stop.