Boxer POV
We are not the newest nor the most colorful, but we are his favorites. Yes us, the plain black silk. The ones he wears to impress the ‘other’. Likes the way our worn elastic rides his hips just so, while clinging to his muscled curves lovingly.
He is nervous, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. As if we would allow such a flaw in our display. He dances out of the bathroom, humming off key to catch the ‘other’s’ attention.
The ‘other’ always stares as if he has never seen boxers before. Perhaps he hasn’t, we do not believe he wears them.
Off key humming, hnn. They are here. The lovely silk boxers and their owner, the Braided One. They lure us with their song, the sound of silk over flesh, the whisper of unbound hair. An exotic temptation.
I am the latest in the line of perpetual spandex and already entranced with their beauty. I yearn to feel the fine threads of them against my courser synthetics. Much as my owner wishes to compare textures with the Braided One. He often lists their differences, as if each one was another hook dragging him in. Curves to his angles, sound to his silence, chaos to order, movement to stillness.
My owner shifts as the Braided One moves about the room. He tenses, waiting for the other to draw near. Oh, yes, we shall have them. The wait will be over. Just a step closer....
“Eeep Heero!”
“Growl”
Bliss...
Soon the only sounds in the room are that of sated sighs and nuzzling kisses. While an old pair of boxers and a newer pair of spandex lay crumpled contentedly together.
-END-
Challenge: write your own object!pov fic. Let Heero's laptop, Duo's cross, or heck even Trowa's bangs tell the story. Don't forget to send us the link when you're done! ^_^
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