Disclaimer: Yuu Yuu Hakusho, its characters, copyright and trademarks belong to Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueishen / Shonen Jump, Fuji TV and Studio Pierrot. Copyright of this fic belongs to its author.  Warning: this is Yaoi + Lemon... That's m/m and explicit. Don't say I didn't tell you.	Art by Morgan D.

Snapshot. A moment caught in time......

A room, spacious, well-lit. Not like some of the bleaker surroundings we have seen in earlier years, when money was so tight, and all they had was each other.

It is a bedroom, elegantly furnished in a restrained, modern style: distinguished by the beautiful displays of flowers on tabletops and cupboards. One wall is broken by large windows, light streaming in through soft muslin curtains.

The viewpoint is high in the room, off to one side, looking down. The centrepiece of the room is the bed: large but not showy; normally it would be heaped with thick bedclothes and pillows, attractively nest-like. But right now those have been cast aside, for its occupants are not using it for sleeping. That will be later.

Kurama kneels, his legs slightly splayed. Hips thrust forward, back arched, head thrown back so that his glorious hair, which is even longer now, reaches almost to his the perfect curves of his butt, skin gleaming in the light with a soft sheen of sweat. His shoulders are just a fraction broader, arms and legs a hint stronger, but even if he were not wearing the ecstatic expression lighting up his face, he would still be as beautiful as he was at eighteen. Almost thirty now, he wears the additional years lightly, as if they have been filled with joys that lift his soul. His hips are thrust forward because he is joined with his lover: Hiei's butt is raised off the bed by a couple of thick pillows, and his legs are thrown over Kurama's shoulders, ankles crossed behind the scarlet-mantled head.

Hiei, too, is little changed. Already strongly muscled, and by his nature almost ageless, he is only slightly different to a decade ago. At least a source of embarrassment has been removed, for although no taller, he now looks about nineteen. But even more beautiful: something closed and withdrawn that shadowed his younger face has gone, leaving a serenity that speaks of confidence strengthened, self-respect gained, and the healing of his soul by loving, and being loved, so richly.

The fire youkai's back is arched as well, and his face holds an expression that is too sweet to be agony. His gleaming penis is straining, erect, reaching almost to his navel. It is lifted slightly from his stomach, and the moment has been caught as a long jet of white spurts from the tip, flying towards his chest. From the ribbon of splattered liquid already reaching almost to his chin, it is not the first. His left arm is flung out sideways, the hand clenched in a fist. Kurama's right hand rests, mid-caress, at the edge of Hiei's chest, while his left hand enfolds Hiei's right, by his hip. Their fingers are intertwined. The lovers' eyes are closed, but their mouths are open, for each is softly crying the other's name.

Snapshot. A moment caught in time.... to cherish forever.
 
 

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