Dead Guys Of The Past (25, Dream, Larxene/Marluxia)
Title: Dead Guys Of The Past
Prompt: 25, Dream // Wish upon a star
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts.
Characters: Larxene and Marluxia.
World Count: 275.
Rating: PG-13 for suggestiveness.
Author’s Note: Uhm. I dunno.
Master List.
“Do you think we’ll go to heaven?”
The question had been bothering her since the Nocturne had asked her. Certainly, she had denied him at first, dismissing the question for the trivial riffraff that usually spouted out of his mouth.
But Marluxia’s mouth on hers, his lips on her skin, his body weight atop her … he couldn’t help the question break past the dam in her throat, the surprising strike of lightning on the ground that quaked him to the bone.
He stared at her, the brilliant amethyst questioning the glimmer of her lips and the questioning pants on her chest.
“… What?” He asked her to repeat, and as much as she didn’t want to, her vision turned away and she quelled her breath.
“Do you … think we’ll … go to heaven?”
He obviously had no answer. He sat back on his haunches, and as tempting as her half-bare flesh beneath him was to look at, to touch, to caress … he couldn’t. He was lost in trying to depict the question in her eyes which even she even refused to rise.
Slowly, he smiled, raising a hand to her jaw and pulling her glance back.
“For all you know, Heaven is like being driven by your mother day after day to Alcoholics Anonymous. Heaven’s like sitting in a circle of eternity, holding hands with the great dead guys the past.”
Her gaze softened a little, cold, hard indigo fading to a soft sky.
“Heaven is not being allowed to dream.”
Prompt: 25, Dream // Wish upon a star
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts.
Characters: Larxene and Marluxia.
World Count: 275.
Rating: PG-13 for suggestiveness.
Author’s Note: Uhm. I dunno.
Master List.
“Do you think we’ll go to heaven?”
The question had been bothering her since the Nocturne had asked her. Certainly, she had denied him at first, dismissing the question for the trivial riffraff that usually spouted out of his mouth.
But Marluxia’s mouth on hers, his lips on her skin, his body weight atop her … he couldn’t help the question break past the dam in her throat, the surprising strike of lightning on the ground that quaked him to the bone.
He stared at her, the brilliant amethyst questioning the glimmer of her lips and the questioning pants on her chest.
“… What?” He asked her to repeat, and as much as she didn’t want to, her vision turned away and she quelled her breath.
“Do you … think we’ll … go to heaven?”
He obviously had no answer. He sat back on his haunches, and as tempting as her half-bare flesh beneath him was to look at, to touch, to caress … he couldn’t. He was lost in trying to depict the question in her eyes which even she even refused to rise.
Slowly, he smiled, raising a hand to her jaw and pulling her glance back.
“For all you know, Heaven is like being driven by your mother day after day to Alcoholics Anonymous. Heaven’s like sitting in a circle of eternity, holding hands with the great dead guys the past.”
Her gaze softened a little, cold, hard indigo fading to a soft sky.
“Heaven is not being allowed to dream.”