#8; our own world
Fandom: Kodomo no Omocha
Theme: #8; our own world
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Notes: Blah. Title is an allusion to Michael Ondatjee's Running in the Family. The lack of quotation marks is deliberate.
Even on summer nights when it was too hot to move, they would lie very close to each other, naked and sticky. The heat from their bodies was great, but nothing compared with the heat of a summer's night, so every slight wave of the hand brought a small respite.
He had the habit of resting his head on her stomach, usually sideways, his face away from hers, so that he could blow kisses or bubbles into her bellybutton. She didn't particularly like it, but it made her laugh, so he continued to do it, if only to feel her stomach rumble with each breath.
We're a mess, she said, all gross and sweaty and icky.
Our bodies are tangled, he replied matter-of-factly, so there's nothing we can do about it.
Oh it sounds poetic doesn't it? she laughed, when there's nothing poetic about this.
He would have kissed her then, but he didn't; it was too hot to move.
They were on the roof; the sky glowed orange, the moon shone blue. She ran curled fingers down his spine.
Won't people see us? she asked rhetorically.
No. His hand brushed the inside of her thigh. And if they could, would you care?
She laughed. He kissed her stomach. No, lover. I wouldn't.
She let out another heavy breath, deep and raspy. With all his effort, he grabbed her arms and pulled her down so that their faces were very close.
Ew, get away, she said. You stink.
So do you, he breathed, and kissed her.