Snapshots

A flutter of movement in the summer breeze made Daisuke turn and look.
Picking up the pile of paper he realized it was a sketchbook. The wind
had opened it and Daisuke was about to close it when a drawing caught his
attention. Before he really realized it, he had sat down on and was flipping
though the sketchbook. Some sketches were rougher than others, simple outlines
of scenery but then ...

Daisuke gasped, eyes widening. The picture he was looking at wasn't
a rough sketch, it was a carefully detailed drawing. It showed a man, leaning
leisurely against a wall; the play of light and shadows on his body from
the sun shining through partially closed blinds outlining the slim body.
He was looking at the observer and only on second gaze Daisuke noticed
the details. One hand had slipped into the partially open pants, the other
one hidden by the open shirt, revealing the finely muscled chest.

But that wasn't what made Daisuke swallow ... it was the look in the
eyes of the man the artist had captured. Hot and longing, yet gentle...
it made a certain part of Daisuke's anatomy want to take a closer look,
too.

Damn, this was Dark he was looking at!

Sex on legs...

Daisuke quickly turned the page.

And swallowed.

Dark again, but this time it was only the face. He was reclining on
a bed, strands of the dark hair pouring over the pillow. One arm was lifted
above his head, the other one seemingly outstretched at the observer, the
expression... gentle?

But there was something else, something not quite right, and Daisuke
took a closer look.

And inhaled deeply when he realized it wasn't a pillow Dark had his
head cradled against, it was a hand. And the ‘not quite right' thing was
due to the reflection in his eyes, the reflection of the other person the
hand belonged to. Daisuke recognized the intense expression suddenly, because
he had seen it before, in another face, at another time. It was a look
Satoshi wore sometimes, too.

Daisuke understood what he was looking at now – one of the most intimate
moments between lovers. Something so utterly private, no one else should
ever see it.

And Krad had been able to capture it in a simple pencil drawing?

He must have poured all his emotions, all his love for Dark into the
delicate work. It seemed to start vibrating with energy...

Damn!

Someone cleared his throat behind him.

Daisuke closed the sketchbook with a ‘thud' and looked into a pair of
inhuman feline eyes that regarded him questioningly and a little sad.

"You looked at them?” Krad asked quietly and Daisuke nodded.

"The wind opened it. I know I wasn't supposed to look. Krad, you...
you are good. Incredible, to be precise.”

Golden eyes widened. "Thank you.”

"Have you ever shown him?”

Krad shook his head. "No, you're the first one to ever have a look at
them. They're... private.”

"You put all your feelings into them, didn't you?”

"Yes.”

Damn ...

Daisuke stood, handing over the sketchbook. "You'll have to seal it,
Krad,” he said softly.

Confusion crept into the demon's face.

"It's already alive. You're a Hikari after all.”

"I'm no Hikari!”

"Oh yes, you are. You were born a Hikari, bound to the bloodline, hosted
by Hikari artists for three centuries. You are a Hikari, even more than
Satoshi. Seal, it Krad.”

Krad looked down on the innocent looking book and Daisuke wondered
how the demon could possibly have missed the magic the little object was
already emitting in waves. He squeezed the other man's shoulder sympathetically
as he passed him.

"I'm sorry. You are good, Krad.”

Because it meant Krad would never draw again. Just like Satoshi had
never layed a finger onto clay or marble again.

°

 

Krad opened the book and let his fingers gently wander over the drawings,
feeling the magic inside push against a barrier, and he smiled sadly. When
he had finished the drawings he had known that he didn't want to show them,
but now that Daisuke had seen them the magic had awoken. He had never thought
something like that would happen, could happen.

‘You're a Hikari after all. Even more than Satoshi.'

No, Daisuke, not more than Satoshi, Krad thought. Never more than Satoshi.

He pulled out a white feather.

 

 

 

 

end of this drabble