Promise

[Notes and Disclaimers]

It was a well-known chair that Haruto flopped into, legs splayed inelegantly as though to display the breadth of his exhaustion. It had been a particularly trying day, with perhaps too many close calls for comfort; it would be a relief to get horizontal without a body bag being involved. There was still the matter of reports, though; thank God Amon had insisted on speaking with the chief first.

His eyes had just drifted closed, his mind strangely soothed by the regular clacking at Michael's keyboard, when he found himself suddenly weightless, the chair kicked from beneath him as a hand caught in his shirt. Wrenched by the abrupt halt of his descent, his eyes flew open only to slide shut again as hot lips crushed over his.

Amon.

The tongue that swept over the seam of his lips was as familiar as the lost chair, perhaps moreso as he opened h is mouth in invitation. It was not one accepted immediately, but the tongue stroking just within his lips was welcome enough; it was a good thing that Amon's grip was strong and sure, else Haruto would have found himself sprawled on the floor, weak and jellied legs no longer able to support his weight. Surprise had kept his hands dangling at his sides, but, as Amon's tongue quested sensuously beyond his teeth, he found one rising, curling over the broad thrust of Amon's shoulder.

Their tongues twined with growing eagerness, heated with the slow burn Amon always seemed to possess. Passion was tinder in their mouths as they fed off each other, Amon swallowing the moan that rose in Haruto's throat as though it were water and he a man dying in the desert. Haruto's fingers clutched tightly, pale against Amon's ubiquitous black as they forced the fabric into furrows. No other contact was sought, the rising flow of their mouths enough as Haruto found himself cut adrift but for the tether of Amon's kiss.

It was over as abruptly as it had begun, Amon's mouth parting from Haruto's with one last caress of lips as he tugged the smaller man upright and set him squarely on his feet. His hands were startlingly warm as they smoothed the rumpled fabric of Haruto's shirt and Haruto found his lips quirking with bare hints of a smile as he gazed up into dark eyes.

"Don't be so careless, next time."

Haruto nodded, knowing that his eyes were expressing his commitment to that promise far more than his lips ever could. His hand slid from Amon's shoulder, the last warmth lingering in his palm as his fingers curled around it, possessive and protective. Amon's hand lingered a moment longer before it was removed as well, and, with a nod of partings, Amon turned and departed, leaving Haruto grinning like a fool.

The clicking of Michael's keyboard had given way to a stunned silence, but Haruto ignored it as he crossed to his own desk and the neglected paperwork that lay in wait there. The promise would indeed be kept, but that was another world... and this world was reports; the promise would remain until it was needed.

- fin -

Notes and Disclaimers

Witch Hunter Robin is © Sunrise.

Promise is an airport-fic, something written after a viewing of a handful of WHR episodes while waiting for a flight to be called. It's nothing stellar, but it's the first thing I've written in a month and a half, which is enough for me at this point.