Current mood:	I love you all!!!!
Current music:	That Crazy Opening Song from Love Hina

*teary-eyed*
Here comes the filler chapter!!!

Elemental Attraction
Author: Mushroom
Seme's POV
Rating: R for Rowza!
Summary: A sickeningly adorable pet infuriates the seme (as expected for such circumstances), good manners are abused, and history books reread.
Notes: This update is for mahiwaga. Honestly, I am so touched by the positive feedback I've been receiving from all of you guys. I've been feeling really shitty lately, especially that I'm forced to enter a school I really don't like, so feedback is greatly appreciated. I LOVE YOU ALL.

This was supposed to be a pointless filler chapter that seemed more like a PWP, but I added a lot of things to make it relevant to the plot, and for character development.



I told him that it wasn’t necessary for him to abandon everything; that living with me meant that he should bring everything that was important to him because I yearned for the whole package. The whole package consisted of his infectious smiles, his engaging person, and a cat he found on the sidewalk. When he first brought it in our apartment he was cradling the puss on his arms, stroking its fur in such a soothing manner that I immediately blasphemed the whole feline race in my jealousy (Yeah, I was possessive like that. It’s a rich boy personality disorder). The cat helped lessen his temper, he reasoned before I shook my head. It was relaxing.

“Can I keep him?” He asked excitedly, putting the cat back on its box. Now THAT scenario was very similar to those cartoons where the cute little boy asks his parents if he could keep a certain endearing and furry animal he found underneath a pile of trash.

It didn’t help at all that my partner was a cute little boy, too. How cliché...but it was an effective move.

I sighed in defeat. When he was this excited, it was hard to keep your eyes away from him. His eyes would light up like sparks on New Year’s Eve; his smile would widen into a broad, hopeful grin and fill the chasms found in every man’s soul (my rotten, sullied soul, in particular). I gave one good look at the cat that was most likely laughing at my face, and then resolved to return his grin.

“Only if you say please,” I began, licking my lips. “…and undress nicely.”

It was a joke, and a fairly good one at that…for he took it seriously. I glanced back at his face once more and spotted a tinge of a lighthearted glint in his eyes. Or was that lunacy? I didn’t know. How could I know or think about it, when he just started--“Please…” he began, leaving his shoes silently at the corner of the room. “…Please.” He whispered, dropping his gaze, eyes half-shut, and tongue between lips. “Please,” He kneeled in front of me as flopped on the edge of the bed, taken aback by his actions. “Please…” He said in a velvety voice, took my hand and placed the tips of my fingers on his shirt; prodding them to unbutton, to shed every covering that came between flesh.

Shit.

All further plans of moving or speaking diminished as the rustles of the tree branches by the porch revealed their reawakening. I breathed hard and allowed my desires to conquer me entirely. This battle of minds was lost; I was clearly the loser in his attempt to satiate my wishes. It was completely necessary for me to pause and dwell in the sight of his radiant bare skin, to observe every simple aspect akin to the sweat beads that rolled down from his forehead to the edge of his chin.

“…Please.” The last one. His lips parted slightly, tempting me beyond recognition; and before I knew it I was kissing him roughly, the last of his clothing successfully landing as a heap on the floor. He smiled and responded eagerly with every kiss, entwining his fingers around my neck while I ravished the skin close to his heartbeat. Why do you have to torture me like this…with this crazy satisfaction…this surreal pleasure... I thought incomprehensibly, drowning his moans with fleeting kisses, light caresses, and unintelligible nonsense that poured through my mouth incessantly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a cat himself as he gave a soft purr of elation.

“Damn you…are you trying to kill me?” I groaned in a raspy voice, and he chuckled in spite of himself. In extremely exasperating slowness that almost made me complain if he didn’t look so good, he finally joined me on the bed as I shielded him from the moon’s view, thus trapping him from the gaze of any possible intruder. He clutched the pillow that cradled his head and tried hard not to release any revealing noise. I stroked his cheek, assuring him that nothing could ever mar what we both shared: our touches, every moment, the feeling of unimaginable heat and pressure—

A loud meow made me jump out of my absorbing reverie. Jump out. Literally. In my shock my elbow hit the lamp stand, I gave out a shrilly yowl, and he started laughing his ass off. I glared at him and kicked his legs apart roughly.

“I-I’m…haha, I’m sorry, hahah.” He choked, desperately trying to hide his amusement. He was so red from laughter and embarrassment that I felt like doing something nasty for revenge, so I lowered my head and captured his lips. The guy tried pushing my face off with his hands so I bit his pinky and he shrieked.

“You’re evil…mean…nasty, I tell you.” He whined.

“You noisy girl.” I teased. “Stay quiet, will you? If someone hears us…well, that doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Of course it does, you loon.” He sucked on his blushing pinky with a reproachful look, making my lower regions skyrocket into various points of the universe. Feeling something far worse than downright frustration, I constantly ordered my ears to close themselves from other petty things. I resumed what I neglected for a moment; my arms and lips and fingers worshipped his waist, his thighs…

A meow emerged out of nowhere.

“…I think the cat is hungry.” He said in a small voice.

Another damn meow. It really WAS irritating. I felt like throwing a tantrum.

“Oh really?” I leveled my gaze with his, glowering. Shitty interruptions. “If you ask me, I think that cat is stupid.”

If we were twelve years younger, still innocent (if you call playing nasty pranks on school teachers a decent thing for a fellow to do) and untroubled, he would have socked my eye in an instant. However, while we grew he turned quite mellow. Not to mention bloody clever.

“…Please?” The clever prat mouthed, letting the word linger long enough to be distinguished. He touched my lips gently with his fingers and nudged my nose playfully while uttering my name several times.

My insides turned into processed pulp. He knew that I would forever fall victim to his armed, seemingly naive yet meaningful stare, and he used that knowledge as the catalyst of my downfall. And the way he spoke my name…it totally floored me.

Damn my sexy name.

“If you abuse the word please again, I swear I’ll pin you down the whole night to shut you up completely.” I flopped sideways beside him on the other side of the bed, feeling cheated. Damn him and his quick thinking.

He squeezed my shoulder gratefully. “…Bastard.”

I watched him walk across the room to get dressed and enjoyed a few seconds in admiring the smooth and nice-looking inclination of his back. He noticed my mischievous demeanor, rolled his eyes, and slipped away to tend to the little bugger.

We confessed our affections, handled our family troubles, scolded a shrieking stalker and got over our best friend’s sudden absence. But no, a furry and sickeningly cute cat came along and stole him away from me. That incident could make the headlines someday, something like: “Cute cat stole lover from rich man’s SON!!!” or worse, “Cat got your MAN?” Plus additional redundant exclamation points and bolded formats.

Fortunately the cat’s presence grew on me. I endured several weeks of poop cleaning and suppressed the urge to drop-kick it out of our flat whenever my man showed too much love for it. In conclusion, I became rather fond of it and would smile once it greets me as I come home from work. It was a fairly nice addition to the package.

***

When we were young, I called him a skinny brat. He had a lot of bruises and scars on all parts of his body, his hair was a fiery mass of ruin, and his eyes were wide and annoying. He wore ragged clothes, stained clothes, holed clothes. He looked like a homeless bum, a lost kitty. He said his parents were away all the time. Figures.

I was the one who picked him up from a pile of trash. I was the one who took him home.

When I fell in love with him, the first things I bought for him were decent clothes. I think he was insulted. But he looked good, too good. I complimented him. He raised an eyebrow and kicked my knee. Very cute, really.

“I can’t believe it…” I laughed. “You actually look HUMAN!” I took a step backward and made my own rendition of a totally shocked mother.

Okay, so that really wasn’t a compliment, but it was close enough. The kick was unbearable, but the kiss, Mmmhmm.

While he grew up, he took care of his appearance. Now he defeats even my sense of style in the good-looking department. Growing up, my affections for him turned into something more…more needy. Carnal. I was used to having everything and nothing at the same time, so I was determined to have everything about him, and nothing could stop the desire that bound me to him and his tattered clothes forever.

Now that I loved and lusted for him, ached to press myself against him and hold and grope and oh, just touch him…clothes were hardly a matter to begin with. They were ripped off and unheeded, just like all the other imperfections and masks he held close to his soul. His nakedness, a figure I breathed in (I loved watching him squirm underneath me, I wanted to hear him gasp brokenly, and I indulged in teasing him about it afterwards). He still had a lot of bruises and scars; beatings perhaps, I don’t know. Now that I saw his bare figure, I can’t help but worship it, bone, jut and all, but it was also painful to look at the marks of history.

I rediscovered his memories with my lips. It tasted like strength and endurance, years of suicide…salty, yet moist. I felt guilty because I enjoyed every second of it, but that's love and lust for you.

***


“Water, air, fire and earth. It was believed to be the only elements that existed in this planet during the renaissance period.” Munch, munch.

“Did you call me just to torment me with World History? I’m working on a pencil sketch right now.”

“I dunno. It struck me somehow.” I leafed through pages of my old textbook and took another bite on a chocolate bar. “Besides, you sound pleased, not busy.”

A surrendering laugh. “Fine. Is this part seventy-six of your strategies to coax me in coming home earlier than usual? History was one of my favorite subjects, you see…”

“You’re so cute, you even counted the times.” I answered naughtily, and he snorted in reply. “I called because…Did…well…did I ever say I love you?”

A pause. I pictured a mental image of my moldy corpse for being too straightforward.

“That’s just revolting and out of topic. Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing much. It’s just that it has been years, and I haven’t told you yet.”

“Oh please, don’t. It sounds horrible coming from you.” Magnificent laughter. “…It’s also pointless to state the blatant.”

“Point taken. Well, come home early then. I’ll just show you, I guess.”

“I can’t wait. Feed the cat for me.” Sarcasm.

Damn, I'm in love, I really am, I even find his sarcastic edge sexy. "Okay, I'll go nurse our baby while waiting for you to come home from work. What would you like for dinner, honey?" I gave my best "lactating-wife" tone.

“Shut up. I’ll go home right now so you can continue your worthless cajoling with me there.”

“Cajoling? Mmmm…sounds kinky…seems like fun, too.”

“W-Wha—You—kill—perverted—asshole—“

As expected, he slammed the phone, thus straining my eardrums. I turned my cell phone off and poured kitty bites on the cat’s food bowl. Along with my name coming from his lips, the busy tone buzzing off from a receiver was the most wonderful sound I have ever heard.

If only the cat would stop meowing.



***
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