Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

The Wonder of Love	By : Michalyn Category: +G to L > Guide of Love, The Views: 1814 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Guide of Love, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Wonder of Love
- 1
I don't own these lovely boys, I'm just
playing with them for a little while.

The Wonder of Love

based on The Guide of Love by
Yamane Ayano

by Michalyn

Pairing: Hirotaka x Akira

Rating: R for romance, humor, sap
and a touch of lime.

Notes: I've taken the character
names here from the fan scanslation done by Shi-ran. I know there is some difference
between that translation and the drama cd.

Unlike in the west, (or at least the US)
where people often joke that one can tell a man's intimate ... proportions
... from the size of his hands, in Japan, it is commonly thought that the
larger a man's nose, the more well endowed he is.

[1] Pocari Sweat is an electrolyte drink
rather like Gatorade and is reputed to be excellent for hangovers.

------------------------------------------------------------------
"You see," the young man wailed
as he wrung a sopping handkerchief, "the problem is my nose. I know it.
One look at this elephant's trunk and women immediately quail." He paused
to blow the offending organ. "It's such an indelicate feature for a businessman
to have. It's as bad as announcing one's net worth down to the very cent at
the first handshake. My friends say they envy me, but it does me no good, I
tell you, no good." When his handkerchief could no longer service him,
the young man fished about his pockets for something to wipe his nose with.
Akira hurried over with a box of tissues.

"Please, Mr. Hanaoto, don't give
up. We'll find the right lady for you, no matter what!"

Akira's brows lowered and determinedly,
he hit his palm with his fist. "You are the best perfumer in Tokyo, your
knowledge of flowers is encyclopedic and you can distinguish any scent at a
single sniff. Any woman would be delighted to have a man like you for a husband.
Think of how special she would feel knowing the fragrance she wears has been
uniquely crafted for her. No sir." Akira shook his head. "You must
think positively if we must succeed. It's all about attitude. Women are drawn
to confidence. If you don't believe in yourself, how can she? From now on, I
want you to think of your nose not as a liability but as what it truly is--a
connoisseur's instrument." Akira grinned. "If you start believing
in yourself I am sure things will turn around."

Hanaoto raised hopeful eyes. "You
think so?"

"I know so." Akira bowed. "So
please cheer up and let us do our best." He put an arm around Mr. Hanaoto's
shoulders as he led him to the door. "Shall we meet again next Wednesay?
I have a list of promising new candidates I'd like you to look at."

Hanaoto agreed and Akira continued to
reassure the young man as they stopped at the receptionist's desk to finalize
the appointment. When Mr. Hanaoto walked out, Akira saw that his client's shoulders
had straightened, and he thought he noticed a new sprightliness to his step.

He returned to his office and put Mr.
Hanaoto's file away with a sigh. Dealing with this case was always a bit difficult
and Akira inevitably felt responsible when his clients were disappointed. Still,
he brightened. No one ever said cupid's work was easy!

"Hey, Yoshizawa," a fellow agent
called as she walked past his office, "new client in room two."

"Ah!" Grabbing the registrant's
file, Akira bounced up from his seat. "Thanks, Yukiko, that must be my
eleven o' clock. I'll be there in a minute."

All the interview rooms were decorated
in soft pastel hues intended to create according to management, an ambience
conducive to inspiring and cultivating love. Akira, who had witnessed as
many failures as successes in these rooms was not so sure about that, but the
bright colors always made him cheerful and at the very least helped his clients
feel more comfortable than a cramped, darkened space might. Akira
peered at his file.

"Ms. Morishita Kyoko?"

"Yes, that's me." A slender
woman with reddish-brown hair rose to shake Akira's hand. Adjusting her glasses,
she looked around disinterestedly. "You will be my agent?"

Akira nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. Won't
you have a seat? First, let us get to know each other by reviewing your file."
He flipped the folder open to the first page of the application to which Ms.
Morishita's photograph was pasted. She was full-breasted and well proportioned,
and though not a classic beauty, her brown eyes were expressive. Even with only
a cursory glance at her credentials, Akira thought her prospects were good.

"All right ... let's see ... speaks
English fluently ... handsome salary ... wow." Akira looked up, beginning
to develop a sense of deja-vu. His thoughts immediately went to Hirotaka,
whom he had left poring over tabulations in the laboratory. Akira knew he'd
been getting underfoot, but his lover had been as gentle with him as always,
leaving his work to greet him with a kiss. He was so lucky to have Hirotaka,
and considering the way this day was progressing, Akira couldn't wait to go
home to him. He smiled at the young woman seated across from him.

"It says here that you're an animal
behaviorist at the Homura Institute. They're the premier research facility in
Japan! We should have no problem finding a match for an intelligent sophisticated
lady such as yourself."

Ms. Morishita met his enthusiasm with
a blank look and Akira bit his lip. This one was a tough cookie! He would have
to try harder.

"Why don't we begin by looking at
some candidates? We have both videos and printed profiles with photographs.
Won't you have a look? I'm sure that you will find a number of them quite interesting."
Akira went to the nearby cabinet and returned with an armful of videos and a
catalogue of profilees. Ms. Morishita barely stirred.

"All right."

Together they went through the videos
and when none caught Ms. Morishita's interest, Akira waited as she rifled through
the profiles. It seemed they would have no luck when having studied the candidates
arranged by surname from A through S, the scientist
remained unmoved and unimpressed. Akira's spirits fell.

"Forgive me, Ms. Morishita,"
he said, bowing deeply. "If you'll spare me a moment, I will find you a
better selection right away. We have--"

"Who's this?"

"Oh." Akira squinted at the
characters printed on the file tab and a lump of ice settled in the pit of his
stomach. "That's ... that's ... that is Mr. Takaoka Hirotaka," he
croaked, clutching the edge of the paper. "A very popular candidate."

"He's a client of yours?"

"Ah." Akira swallowed. What
was he worried about? It did not matter if Ms. Morishita or a hundred other
women scientists were interested in the professor. Hirotaka loved him, Akira
reminded himself. Hadn't he told Akira so just this morning?

Still, Akira's conscience plagued him.
This was why the agent's handbook strictly forbade relationships of this
sort. Wasn't he honor bound to find his clients loving, healthy relationships
(his dear Hirotaka included)? Ms. Morishita and Hirotaka obviously had much
in common. Akira's fists clenched. Why must everything be so difficult? He
only wanted to do the right thing.

Ms. Morishita's demeanor had undergone
a noticeable change. She straightened in her chair and pierced Akira with a
look. "It says here that he has been a member for six months. I find it
hard to believe he hasn't found someone yet."

Akira smiled weakly. "Like most scholars,
Professor Takaoka is somewhat introverted. In addition, his research keeps him
working long hours. Also..." How could he say that much of the professor's
failure was due to the fact that he had stopped looking? Akira shifted from
foot to foot. "Though it has been a challenge, I am confident..."

Ms. Morishita smiled. "I'd like to
meet him."

"O...of course." Akira turned.
As he moved to gather up the files, he tried to prevent his face from crumpling.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Akira, are you home?"

Akira peeked beyond the kitchen and saw
Hirotaka taking off his shoes in the entryway. The professor's tie was loose
and his hair mussed as he stepped onto the tatami. With his lab coat discarded,
Hirotaka looked tired, serious--and incredibly attractive in his shirt-sleeves.
Akira's heart beat faster and he ducked away before Hirotaka could see him.
He scooped some rice from the cooker, tapping the spatula until the steamy mound
plopped into one of the bowls he had set aside. He wanted to transfer the meal
to a tray, but his hands were trembling so badly the miso soup sloshed over
his fingers. This was how it always was. A single look at Hirotaka--that was
all it took to set his blood racing. Akira had expected the impossibility of
it--the sheer wonder of being on the receiving end of Hirotaka's love--to fade
with time. Instead, only his ability to resist it diminished.

"Ah, there you are, my Akira."

Hirotaka was leaning against the door-frame,
eying him with that mixture of pleasure, amusement and a kind of fierceness
that always seemed to warm over the older man's expression whenever he encountered
Akira. It was recognition, affection and something else that left Akira's stomach
bottomless. Hirotaka never seemed to just look at him; he lingered, taking in
all of Akira in a way that made him feel at once exposed and cherished. Akira
shifted, his collar prickling with heat.

"Welcome home!" He smiled. "Dinner
will be ready in a few minutes."

"Ah." Hirotaka pushed his glasses
up his nose bridge. He did not budge but continued to watch Akira. "I was
hoping to make love to you before dinner."

Quiet and uttered as calmly as if he were
discussing the weather. Maybe it was the scientist in Hirotaka which always
allowed him to view things with such equanimity, but Akira was not so fortunate.
The dishes rattled loudly in his hands.

Hirotaka's response was soft, mellifluous
laughter. "Silly boy, does that still shock you?"

Akira bit his lip. His ears were so hot
he was sure they were glowing. "Th...that's..."

Hirotaka pried the tray from Akira's fingers
and tucked it into the oven. Akira stumbled after him, trying to regain control
of his senses. It was difficult with the blood roaring in his ears and his heart
racing a mile a minute. Their eyes met and familiar heat settled beneath Akira's
belt. Hirotaka studied him, his lips twitching.

"You're quite adorable in that apron."
He plucked the ruffled bodice. "Shall we take it with us?

"But..." Akira floundered--gurgled.
It was his mother's apron. For them to ... in her...! He couldn't.

Hirotaka blinked back at him, unperturbed
and with a great deal of expectation. "Shall we?"

Did he mention how powerless he was to
resist Hirotaka? Not calculation or seduction, not even persuasion, just the
very gentleness of Hirotaka's voice and the warmth of his arm as it curled about
Akira's waist was enough to have him trailing the older man to the bedroom.
Such was the wonder of love ... and how he found himself pressed into the mattress
with his socked feet bobbing over Hirotaka's shoulders. The apron was hiked
about his hips, its frill of candy-pink lace crushed between their bodies. Akira
squeezed his eyes shut as his breath hitched from another of Hirotaka's sinuous
movements. It was too embarrassing. What a picture he must make and the crowning
ignominy was the perfect little bow knotted at the base of his neck. "Precious,"
Hirotaka had called it. Akira's face flamed. He preferred not to describe it
at all!

"Whatever is going on in that head
of yours?" Hirotaka paused to consider him.

Akira would have liked to answer, except
with Hirotaka nudging his prostate, he could only moan and protest the older
man's immobile weight above him, keeping him from release.

Hirotaka, who never sought to deny Akira
anything, obliged him. Lacing Akira's fingers with his, his thrusting assumed
a more urgent pace. He kissed Akira's face and throat, never faltering in that
sensuous rhythm, and Akira clutched at him, savoring the play of muscle beneath
Hirotaka's skin. It ended in short order, with Hirotaka securing both their
releases in a rush of warmth. He withdrew and rolled off Akira. Lifting the
sheets, Hirotaka drew them both beneath the covers before taking Akira into
his arms again. Akira sighed, even as he snuggled closer against Hirotaka's
chest. The apron was in complete disarray about him and there were two large
wet spots below its heart-shaped buttons--mute evidence of Hirotaka's earlier
attentions.

Hirotaka ruffled his hair. Following
Akira's gaze, he reached over and idly fingered the tiny points of Akira's nipples
peeking beyond the edges of the scrunched bodice. Akira made a shivery sound
as Hirotaka continued to pluck at him.

"Are you pleased, Akira-chan?"

Akira made a noncommittal sound. He was
thinking. "Takaoka-sensei--"

"Takaoka-sensei?" Hirotaka repeated,
his fingers stilling. "How long has it been since we discarded that
formailty?" He pressed his lips to Akira's forehead. "You're nervous
again, my love. Won't you tell me what has you so preoccupied?"

"Nothing." Akira squirmed. He
fiddled with the sheet. "Well ... nothing too important."

"Important enough to worry you,"
Hirotaka countered.

"I met a new client today."

"Oh?"

"Yes and--" Akira's face crumpled.

"Akira!" Hirotaka sat up and
pulled him onto his lap, rubbing his back in soothing circles. "What is
it?"

"She's a scientist," he hiccuped,
"speaks three different languages ... and really ... you know ... she's
pretty ... and..."

Hirotaka sighed. "Is this about a
client who picked me for a date? Akira, it doesn't matter if ten women pick
me." He kissed Akira on the nose. "I only want to be with you."

"But you don't understand, she asked
specifically for you." Akira wrung the sheet between his fingers,
twisting it into a tiny column. When he released it, a spray of wrinkles radiated
across the cotton.

Hirotaka made it seem so simple but he
could not help being scared. Could he ever offer Hirotaka the stability found
in a hetrosexual relationship? True, Hirotaka kept irregular hours and spent
most of his time in the lab, but what if one day the work was not enough? Wouldn't
he want children, a family to come home to every night? No matter how much Akira
loved him, these were things he could never provide. Akira sniffled.

"Plus, as a certified agent, it
is my duty to make sure that the customer is completely satisfied," he
said. "What she wants, I must provide. Even if..." Akira lowered his
head, "even if what she wants is you."

"Then I'll just go out with her."

"What?"

"I'll go out with her," Hirotaka
repeated. "You know how I am with women. It will only take one date before
she loses her fascination for me. Besides, this is not necessarily a bad thing
for us. Mother has really been pressuring me lately to bring someone home. Inviting
this woman to dinner should throw her off the scent for a while." He stroked
Akira's hair. "See? Nothing to worry about."

He had not thought of it that way, and
though Akira had his misgivings, he had to admit, it did make things
much easier for them. He released a shuddering breath. "Well, okay...."

"Hmm mm." Hirotaka's face was
buried in the crook of Akira's neck. "One more round before dinner?"

Akira wound his arms around Hirotaka.
Smiling, he surrendered.

------------------------------------------------------

Akira straightened Hirotaka's tie. "There
she is, over there. Now, don't forget what we practiced. She's a very intelligent
woman and I think the two of you will get along marvelously. Do you have your
keys? Your cellphone? Yes? And the--"

"Akira?"

"Yes?"

"You're babbling."

Akira raised a hand behind his head in
a sheepish gesture. He flushed. "Sorry, you're right." It wasn't
his fault he was a little nervous.

Smiling, Hirotaka leaned close and discreetly,
his fingers brushed Akira's cheek in a fleeting caress. "I'll see you tonight,
then?" It was not a question, but a promise. Akira nodded, his heart thudding
in his chest.

"Have a good evening," he waved,
watching as Hirotaka strode over to Ms. Morishita and took her arm. Tonight,
her hair was coiled upward and she was wearing a smartly tailored suit that
showed off her long legs. Contrasting her pastel prettiness, Hirotaka was masculine
grace in the charcoal suit Akira had chosen for him. The depth and breadth of
his shoulders was impressive under the dark material and when he tilted his
head to answer some question Kyoko had murmured, the light caught his glasses
and the sensuous curve of his profile. They made a handsome couple, and a number
of people stopped to admire them as they moved across the lobby.

Akira's hand flopped to his side. He put
on his best smile as he hurried to put away his files and shut down his computer.
He was alone in the halls. It was Friday night and well past eight o' clock
so few agents were still in the office. Save for the distant whir of a printer
and the jubilant calls of the last team members heading out for the evening,
nothing stirred. Akira shuffled about his desk, gathering up the last applications
and the discarded coffee cups that were littered about the table. He dusted
his hands off with a sigh. Everything would work out just fine. He had absolutely
nothing to worry about. He turned off the lights and grabbed his coat.

But first, he was going to get thoroughly
drunk--just to make sure.

---------------

Akira awoke to an unremitting throbbing
in his head. Hirotaka leaned over him, pressing a wet compress to his temples
and Akira gingerly eased himself up against the pillows as he was handed a bottle
of Pocari Sweat[1].

"You overdid it, didn't you?"

Akira winced as a shaft of light pierced
through his pupils. "A little," he admitted groggily.

Hirotaka sighed as he watched Akira down
the electrolyte drink but refrained from saying anything. It was unnecessary
in any case, for Akira was pretty sure he knew what Hirotaka's thoughts were.
There was no logical reason for him to have been so panicked, but it was the
sight of Kyoko slipping her arm in Hirotaka's that had suddenly sent Akira tumbling
into despair. How could he explain the yearning it inspired in him? Of course
Hirotaka could not understand it when he was the one slipping through Akira's
fingers.

As was his response in any difficulty,
Akira faced Hirotaka with a smile. He asked him about the date, the scent Kyoko
had been wearing, the food they had consumed at a restaurant Akira, as their
matchmaker, could never afford. And all throughout, he listened carefully, concealing
the pangs in his heart. Hirotaka's weight sunk onto the bed, but this time Akira
did not allow himself to become lost in the embrace. His nails dug deep into
Hirotaka's shoulders and he bit down at the junction of his lover's neck with
a passion that was almost savage.

---------------------------------------------------------

Hirotaka and Kyoko were on another date. This time, Hirotaka had taken her to
meet his mother. His mother! The woman whose mere existence threatened
Hirotaka's and Akira's relationship. Akira had never met her and it was safe
to assume he never would, given the woman's determination to find her son a
wife. A wife. Not a lover or god forbid, a boyfriend. That was the crux of the
matter, the final, gut-wrenching turn of the knife. What was he to do? Akira
knew he should pack his things before the final blow came, but no matter how
he tried to gather his courage the thought of leaving rendered him immobile.

Ne pleurez pas, ma chere, an athletic
Frenchman was crooning to his lover on the television. They had satellite TV,
and in the week since Hirotaka had begun dating Kyoko, Akira had become quite
familiar with the cheesy international soap operas that played on evenings between
seven o' clock and ten. Akira curled on the couch and glumly brought a spoon
of caramel-fudge ice-cream to his mouth. Condensation dripped from the tub onto
his shorts and slid into the crease of one leg. The Frenchman's lover clung
to him, her hair falling in a rippling cascade down her back. She was insisting
on something quite urgently but he did not have a clue what they were saying.
Akira sighed. Kyoko probably understood French.

The soap operas came and went. Akira flipped
through the channels numbly, knowing he should go to bed. Still, he watched
and worried and waited. Hirotaka would return soon and Akira knew instinctively
that this night, in one way or another would end everything. Yet, the body could
only take so much upheaval. Akira had been in a state of agitation since he
arranged the first meeting between Hirotaka and Kyoko, and he was tired, stressed
and distraught from his own fearful musings. He needed rest--physical, mental,
emotional... Akira's eyes drooped. He was already half asleep when the telephone
rang.

"Hello?"

"Akira? It's me. I'm here with Kyoko.
We're coming over. I have some important news I want to share with you."

"Akira?" Hirotaka's voice was
loud in his ear, but Akira could not answer, could barely breathe against the
icy hand that had dipped into him and squeezed the heart out of his chest. Of
course it was coming. Wasn't he expecting it? Yes, of course--but knowing
was one thing, being faced with rejection was something else entirely.

Hirotaka's voice, tiny and frantic bubbled
from the receiver as Akira returned it to the cradle. He switched off the television
and returned the ice-cream to the freezer. What now? Akira turned about the
room. Shower. He would shower. The least he could do was not make a fool of
himself by appearing in his ratty t-shirt and boxers when the dismissal came.

Akira bathed, carefully brushed his hair
and returned to the couch. The minutes ticked by with such agonizing slowness
that it was almost with relief he heard the key turn in the lock.

"Akira?" Hirotaka's voice and
a woman's softer tones filtered from the entryway, followed by a third voice
even more muted, though definitely masculine in timbre. Perhaps Hirotaka was
so determined to evict him he had already contacted the landlord to officially
make sure that not a trace of Akira was left.

"Ah, you're here." Hirotaka
appeared in the doorway. "Why didn't you answer when I called?"

Akira jerked to his feet; tears were already
smarting behind his eyelids. He had been wrong. He could not do this. It hurt
too much--too much for him to pretend to be calm when inside he was in agony.

"If you're going to leave me, just
say it now! I ... I love you but I can't take anymore of this horrible suspense.
Just tell me to leave and I'll do it, but don't ... don't leave me hanging like
this." Akira covered his face with his hands.

Hirotaka hurried to his side. "Akira,
you're wrong! This is not--"

"Hirotaka-kun, Is everything all
right?" Kyoko wandered into the room. Over her shoulder, a tall dark-haired
Westerner was smiling, his arm locked tenderly about her waist.

-------------------------------------------------

"Yoshizawa-kun, this is Mark, my fiancee." Kyoko's expression was
contrite. "I see that I've caused you a lot of trouble and I feel terrible.
Please--" She took Akira's stunned hands in her own. "You must allow
me to apologize."

Akira's legs wobbled. "I ... I think
I need to sit down."

"Yes, do. Mark, please get him some
water." Kyoko waited as Hirotaka, who would not leave Akira's side, directed
the American to the kitchen. He returned shortly and handed the drink to Akira
before taking his place once more next to Kyoko. He had a kindly face and his
hazel eyes were warm behind his glasses. At the moment, however, his features
were sharpened with concern.

"All right, where to begin."
Kyoko sighed, lacing her fingers through Mark's. "It's really quite simple.
Hirotaka and I were in the same situation and I took advantage of him. I could
tell from the first day you were lovers by your reaction, Yoshizawa-kun and
that made Hirotaka even more the perfect candidate for what I had in mind."
Kyoko raised her hands as Akira's eyes widened. "I swear I never meant
to cause any trouble between the two of you. I just wanted to borrow Hirotaka
for a little while to appease my parents until Mark came."

"I don't understand," Akira
said, blowing his nose quietly into a tissue.

"Oh," Kyoko bit her lip as she
watched him. "Oh, I'm so sorry to have caused you all this suffering! From
day one, Hirotaka told me he was not interested, but I begged him to continue
until the end of the week, though I did not tell him why. I knew Mark was coming
and my parents were threatening to arrange another o-miai and well--" Kyoko
showed Akira the ring glittering on her finger. "You can see why that just
would not do. Like Hirotaka's mother, my parents have been trying for years
to match me up with someone but last year at the Behaviorists Convention in
New York, I met Mark and we've been secretly carrying on our relationship ever
since. I come from a very traditional family and I just did not know how to
tell them I'd fallen in love with an American. Mark and I discussed it, and
we agreed to break the news to them together, but then my father was threatening
another o-miai and he already had the son of a business associate lined up.
That's when things became more urgent. The marriage would be instrumental for
both families and I knew if I ever met this guy, there would be no refusing
without causing grave loss of face to either side. I needed someone who wasn't
looking for love and who would be willing to go out on a few dates. Even without
your involvement, Yoshizawa-kun, everything in Hirotaka's file said he fit the
bill. He was smart, wealthy, handsome--and completely uninterested in me. I
was hoping to distract my parents with him long enough for Mark to arrive."

Akira stirred, his voice hopeful. "So..."

Hirotaka's arms tightened about Akira.
"And that's when Mother complicated things."

It was Hirotaka's turn to sigh. "You
know how Mother is. She had been calling the agency to check up on me and when
she found out I had been seeing Kyoko for a week--longer than anyone before--she
didn't waste any time. She demanded to meet her. I'm afraid I followed the same
line of logic as Kyoko. I thought how tiresome it was to keep hiding our relationship
from her and if Kyoko could throw her off the scent, well ... all the better."

Hirotaka had told Akira just these words
this morning, but everything was so much clearer now that he had the full context.
Akira was so convinced Hirotaka was about to leave him that he had been unable
to see beyond his own fear.

"Hirotaka was always polite,"
said Kyoko, "and you were right about one thing. We do have a lot in common,
at least professionally. It was the only reason he kept going out with me. We
spent all of our dates discussing research. When he explained the situation
with his mother, though, I knew this could not go on any longer, especially
since Mark had finally arrived. Hirotaka had helped me so much already without
him knowing it, that now that he was in a bind I could not refuse him. After
meeting his mother though, I confessed everything to him. I told him about Mark
and that I knew about his and your relationship and that I would never judge
him for it. It was then Hirotaka-kun admitted how worried you had been these
past few days and I just had to come up here and apologize to you in person."
Kyoko's eyes were pleading. "Will you forgive me, Yoshizawa-kun?"

By the time Kyoko had finished her explanation,
Akira was too dazed from relief to answer anything but yes. They spent a long
time afterward laughing at their own folly and talking about Mark's work and
how he and Kyoko met. It turned out he was a scientist as well, working for
one of the top universities in the States. The American was well-traveled and
his Japanese was excellent. For a good portion of the evening, he, Kyoko and
Hirotaka debated the finer points of animal behavior in a jargon that went completely
over Akira's head. Akira didn't mind in the least, however, too drunk on Hirotaka's
arm around him, so warm and sure--and the surprising, wonderful turn the evening
had taken. He was exhausted from the rollercoaster of euphoric highs and soul-wrenching
lows the day had propelled him through, and the chattering voices around him
had a soporific effect on his senses. Akira dozed a little, his head resting
on Hirotaka's shoulder.

When he awoke, it was dark and he was
lying in their bed. At some point Hirotaka had undressed him and Akira was curled
into the other man's arms. Kyoko and Mark had left.

Hirotaka kissed him softly and with great
tenderness. "Better now?"

Akira nodded, suddenly embarrassed by
his earlier desperation. He always made the same mistake when all he needed
to do was trust in Hirotaka's love. How many times did Hirotaka have to convince
him? Here he had been so preoccupied with his own insecurities that he'd never
given a moment's thought to how he might have hurt Hirotaka with his doubts.
Yet, not once had Hirotaka reproached him. It was more than he deserved. Akira
closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hirotaka. You told me.
I overreacted. I ... I was just so scared."

"I'm sorry, my love." Hirotaka
pulled him closer. Beneath the covers he found Akira's soft penis and stroked
it to hardness. "I knew you were worried, but I would never have gone out
with Kyoko if I had known you were this upset."

"Sorry ... sorry, I just--"
Akira moaned as Hirotaka slid down his body. He spread Akira's legs and began
to suckle him. It felt so good, so good, and not just the pleasure of it, but
the warmth of Hirotaka's body against Akira's--the wonder of it. His love for
Akira palpable in every caress. How had Akira ever come to doubt it? He was
a fool and he told Hirotaka so with every cry that burst from his lips.

"Shh, shh, no more recriminations."
Hirotaka moved up to embrace him. Rolling them over so that Akira was above
him, Hirotaka caressed Akira's hips. He made a questioning sound deep in his
throat as Akira leaned over him.

"What is it?"

Hirotaka frowned. "I've been thinking."

"Hmm?" Akira shivered as Hirotaka
pressed into him.

"It's about time you met my mother."

End
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Wonder of Love