The Ghost
Title: The Ghost
Chapters: 1/1
Author: darkwonderland3
Genre: Romance, oneshot
Warnings: Hints of sex
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Aoi/Kai but you can imagine who you want.
Synopsis: He comes every night, and goes away every morning.
Like angels that have monster eyes,
Over your bedside I shall rise,
Gliding towards you silently
Across night's black immensity.
Lying on what served him as a bed, he thoughtfully looked at the moon which illuminated a little the room. How long did he kept him here already ? He no longer know very well. His only point of reference was the nightfall. And unfortunately, he had stopped counting the days passed after a week. He got his bearings through the starry sky, and his comings. Who was he ? The young man could not say it. He knew about him only his smell, his voice calling him softly in the night, his hands going all over his aching body again and again, the coolness of his body despite the fact that he violently took him every night, his appearance incredibly beautiful. The young man knew nothing else. Neither his name nor his age, nor why he kept him here. And after all, what had he done wrong for that he detain him in this... room ? Nothing precisely. He had never done anything wrong, or to anyone. Unless his sad and simple life was bad ? He did not understand. Moreover, the young man could not remember how he had ended here. He only remembered falling asleep in his own bedroom then waking up in this place, his body over his and this frightening glimmer that shone in his two onyx orbs. This night, he had struggled with all his might. He did not want him to touch him, to put his hands on his body and soiled him. He did not want to smell his scent on his own skin, his lips on his and on his neck. His persecutor had left him in peace in the early morning exhausted, in tears and shaking of all his limbs which had become painful. His days were limited to looked at the Sun gradually give way to the Moon, as for his nights, he spent them in his arms. The more nights passed, the more he had became submissive. The young man was pushed around, he did not fought anymore against him, taking even pleasure in feeling his hands tickle every inch of his body. And by dint of being close to this unique person, he felt day by day a certain affection for this attractive brown. After all, he did not hurt him. He fed him, nursed him when he fell ill and was much more gentle in his actions and his words since his "victim" made an effort.
Like every night, as his gaze admired the pale moon, the bedroom's door opened slowly and he slipped quietly between the cold sheets, overlooking with his body the one of his young prisonner. A gaze, a smile, a cheek stroked, lips which brushed against each other. The few clothing that covers them quickly found the hardness of the ground while the sweet caresses which tickle their skin wake quickly in each of them this desire, the desire of the other. Their movements are more eager, clumsy, their breath more jerky. He offers to him a multitude of kisses, mixing of brutality and gentleness, traces every curve of his body with his thin fingers, marks his skin which has become agreeably hot. The are unable to hold back their desire which is too big and dictates their movements. It is one of the most sensual dances which begins. Their bodies rub themselves, slide against each other, match perfectly the graceful shapes of the divinely sculpted body. The melody of their pleasure bangs on the walls of the room and reverberates as an echo, wrapping them in a soft blanket of beautiful sounds. Him, indulges in his arms which he had so often rejected, to his lips he had so often injured, he leaves that smell makes him lose control and holds on desperatly to his shoulders. Him, admires his pretty face distorted by all these sensations he makes him feel, kisses his soft lips and keeps smiling at this young man mischievously. A hoarser groan than the others puts an end to their passionate and frenzied dance. And it is with regret he notices the time of their separation, until the next night. But before leaving the arms of his beautiful puppet, he whispers in his ears, in a voice he had never known from him, while sliding his thin fingers to his white throat :
And, when my pleasure in these impious farces fails,
My dainty, terrible hands shall tear his breast apart,
And these long nails of mine, so like to harpies' nails,
Shall dig till they have dug a tunnel to his heart.
~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: The first paragraph in italics is a verse of The Ghost. The second paragraph in italics is a verse of Benediction. Both of these poems are from Charles Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil). I didn't translated those verses, I took the translation of this website here. I really love this anthology of poems *^*
Chapters: 1/1
Author: darkwonderland3
Genre: Romance, oneshot
Warnings: Hints of sex
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Aoi/Kai but you can imagine who you want.
Synopsis: He comes every night, and goes away every morning.
Like angels that have monster eyes,
Over your bedside I shall rise,
Gliding towards you silently
Across night's black immensity.
Lying on what served him as a bed, he thoughtfully looked at the moon which illuminated a little the room. How long did he kept him here already ? He no longer know very well. His only point of reference was the nightfall. And unfortunately, he had stopped counting the days passed after a week. He got his bearings through the starry sky, and his comings. Who was he ? The young man could not say it. He knew about him only his smell, his voice calling him softly in the night, his hands going all over his aching body again and again, the coolness of his body despite the fact that he violently took him every night, his appearance incredibly beautiful. The young man knew nothing else. Neither his name nor his age, nor why he kept him here. And after all, what had he done wrong for that he detain him in this... room ? Nothing precisely. He had never done anything wrong, or to anyone. Unless his sad and simple life was bad ? He did not understand. Moreover, the young man could not remember how he had ended here. He only remembered falling asleep in his own bedroom then waking up in this place, his body over his and this frightening glimmer that shone in his two onyx orbs. This night, he had struggled with all his might. He did not want him to touch him, to put his hands on his body and soiled him. He did not want to smell his scent on his own skin, his lips on his and on his neck. His persecutor had left him in peace in the early morning exhausted, in tears and shaking of all his limbs which had become painful. His days were limited to looked at the Sun gradually give way to the Moon, as for his nights, he spent them in his arms. The more nights passed, the more he had became submissive. The young man was pushed around, he did not fought anymore against him, taking even pleasure in feeling his hands tickle every inch of his body. And by dint of being close to this unique person, he felt day by day a certain affection for this attractive brown. After all, he did not hurt him. He fed him, nursed him when he fell ill and was much more gentle in his actions and his words since his "victim" made an effort.
Like every night, as his gaze admired the pale moon, the bedroom's door opened slowly and he slipped quietly between the cold sheets, overlooking with his body the one of his young prisonner. A gaze, a smile, a cheek stroked, lips which brushed against each other. The few clothing that covers them quickly found the hardness of the ground while the sweet caresses which tickle their skin wake quickly in each of them this desire, the desire of the other. Their movements are more eager, clumsy, their breath more jerky. He offers to him a multitude of kisses, mixing of brutality and gentleness, traces every curve of his body with his thin fingers, marks his skin which has become agreeably hot. The are unable to hold back their desire which is too big and dictates their movements. It is one of the most sensual dances which begins. Their bodies rub themselves, slide against each other, match perfectly the graceful shapes of the divinely sculpted body. The melody of their pleasure bangs on the walls of the room and reverberates as an echo, wrapping them in a soft blanket of beautiful sounds. Him, indulges in his arms which he had so often rejected, to his lips he had so often injured, he leaves that smell makes him lose control and holds on desperatly to his shoulders. Him, admires his pretty face distorted by all these sensations he makes him feel, kisses his soft lips and keeps smiling at this young man mischievously. A hoarser groan than the others puts an end to their passionate and frenzied dance. And it is with regret he notices the time of their separation, until the next night. But before leaving the arms of his beautiful puppet, he whispers in his ears, in a voice he had never known from him, while sliding his thin fingers to his white throat :
And, when my pleasure in these impious farces fails,
My dainty, terrible hands shall tear his breast apart,
And these long nails of mine, so like to harpies' nails,
Shall dig till they have dug a tunnel to his heart.
~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: The first paragraph in italics is a verse of The Ghost. The second paragraph in italics is a verse of Benediction. Both of these poems are from Charles Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil). I didn't translated those verses, I took the translation of this website here. I really love this anthology of poems *^*