Obey, as I command
Date: August 21, 2000
Time: The sunset
Place: The Arcadia gallery
Characters Involved: Montague Morsus, Terry Boot, invitation only
Rating: R for implied sexual content
(The muffled scream was deafening.) Silence draped around him in heavy swirls, swarthy, seductive. How many days had passed since then? Her sneer lingered in the air wherever he went, still. Like a curse upon himself, and yet-- she elicited these dark grins from him, blood spilling down from beneath his snow-white teeth, as he smirked up, cocky, beaten to a sanguine pulp. He could never get enough of her venom - a particular destructive addiction, like gambling, only much more serious.
And the night before, an enemy had come inside his parlor. A vision, intacto-- a snake, slithering around his open grave, the bed really, hissing snakely obscenities at him, (It was all of those times taken together and brought once and for all, to admonish him - their silent faces accusatory. And he hid his face from Terry's, digging into his slender neck.) before crawling away into the unlit corridor. He never liked his corridors lit.
"Arrivederci." With a wave sent at the stylish nobody, he left the house. It was almost time for the sunset. They came earlier since lately. He'd have to hurry.
(His lips dug into the other's in return, hurting even more - because pain was pleasure (hadn't they established that already?). A bloody medley, so beautiful underneath, rendering the whiteness with the carmine tracery - it was quiet and almost tranquil. But before the next breath could be destroyed, he made the last lunge. Feint. Feint. Coulé - eternity long. Riposte then. End.)
Then there was the swirling around and the soot again and the startled noise - all a standard procedure by now. (The green drapery hid so many stifled moans: and tears. Salty.) There were the walls and the small windows and the wooden floor and the 'fluorescent' lamps. What were they made of? Like stars, made of helium. Phosphorescent.
( . )
And then he stretched his hand out for the boy to take.
Time: The sunset
Place: The Arcadia gallery
Characters Involved: Montague Morsus, Terry Boot, invitation only
Rating: R for implied sexual content
(The muffled scream was deafening.) Silence draped around him in heavy swirls, swarthy, seductive. How many days had passed since then? Her sneer lingered in the air wherever he went, still. Like a curse upon himself, and yet-- she elicited these dark grins from him, blood spilling down from beneath his snow-white teeth, as he smirked up, cocky, beaten to a sanguine pulp. He could never get enough of her venom - a particular destructive addiction, like gambling, only much more serious.
And the night before, an enemy had come inside his parlor. A vision, intacto-- a snake, slithering around his open grave, the bed really, hissing snakely obscenities at him, (It was all of those times taken together and brought once and for all, to admonish him - their silent faces accusatory. And he hid his face from Terry's, digging into his slender neck.) before crawling away into the unlit corridor. He never liked his corridors lit.
"Arrivederci." With a wave sent at the stylish nobody, he left the house. It was almost time for the sunset. They came earlier since lately. He'd have to hurry.
(His lips dug into the other's in return, hurting even more - because pain was pleasure (hadn't they established that already?). A bloody medley, so beautiful underneath, rendering the whiteness with the carmine tracery - it was quiet and almost tranquil. But before the next breath could be destroyed, he made the last lunge. Feint. Feint. Coulé - eternity long. Riposte then. End.)
Then there was the swirling around and the soot again and the startled noise - all a standard procedure by now. (The green drapery hid so many stifled moans: and tears. Salty.) There were the walls and the small windows and the wooden floor and the 'fluorescent' lamps. What were they made of? Like stars, made of helium. Phosphorescent.
( . )
And then he stretched his hand out for the boy to take.