Drabble: Prompt 036, 037, 038, 039, 040
Title: Senses
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Bam Margera/Ville Valo
Prompt: 036 Smell, 037 Sound, 038 Touch, 039 Taste, 040 Sight
Word Count: Smell - 11; Touch - 56; Taste - 38; Sound - 82; Sight - 166
Rating: R for implied sex
Author's Notes: These should be read as a progression in the following order: Smell, Touch, Taste, Sound, Sight. Call it a mini series, though they could stand alone if need be.
You smell of sweat and sex, my sex, and it’s intoxicating.
You feel like Chinese silk, like porcelain; your skin would break under my fingers, would tear apart; but you’re hard as ivory, flawless white marble, and you like it when I bite and tear and bring saccharine red out from under your skin, you love the rivulets of crimson flowing down your cold, hard, delicate body.
You taste like cigarettes, like cinnamon - spicy, spicy hot cinnamon. Cinnamon and cigarettes and roses, red roses, coffee and alcohol - wine and vodka, Jäger, Jack -, sweat and sex and the blood that I draw from your lips.
You sound … you sound… how do I describe how you sound? Low moans and piercing shrieks, panting, gasping. Ragged breaths, harsh cries; words are tumbling out of your mouth a mile a minute, a torrent of them assaulting my ears and caressing my body, but they make no sense. Your voice sends shivers up my spine. Your voice makes me cry out too, the sound of you submitting to me and yet dominating me, taking complete control of all my senses.
You look gorgeous; spread out beneath me, writhing, squirming, moaning and groaning and begging for more, always more. You look edible, you look delicious, you look beautiful and serene, like sculpture of the finest kind. You look sinful, that tinge on your lips is dangerous, that blush on your cheeks treacherous; your eyes of shimmering, piercing green are captivating. They flash with fire and I’m burning in them and burning in you as you thrust and pant and beg for more like the lowliest of vagabonds, and the sweat plasters your hair to your forehead and there’s dirt underneath your fingernails - but you’re as supreme in your bliss and rapture as a king, as radiant as an angel. You’re full of contradictions, they’re everywhere, and I want to make them mine. I will conquer you and throw you down from your pure, shining pedestal, yet even as I ravage you I will make you into a prince, as your beauty, your exquisiteness and delicacy only deserves.
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Bam Margera/Ville Valo
Prompt: 036 Smell, 037 Sound, 038 Touch, 039 Taste, 040 Sight
Word Count: Smell - 11; Touch - 56; Taste - 38; Sound - 82; Sight - 166
Rating: R for implied sex
Author's Notes: These should be read as a progression in the following order: Smell, Touch, Taste, Sound, Sight. Call it a mini series, though they could stand alone if need be.
You smell of sweat and sex, my sex, and it’s intoxicating.
You feel like Chinese silk, like porcelain; your skin would break under my fingers, would tear apart; but you’re hard as ivory, flawless white marble, and you like it when I bite and tear and bring saccharine red out from under your skin, you love the rivulets of crimson flowing down your cold, hard, delicate body.
You taste like cigarettes, like cinnamon - spicy, spicy hot cinnamon. Cinnamon and cigarettes and roses, red roses, coffee and alcohol - wine and vodka, Jäger, Jack -, sweat and sex and the blood that I draw from your lips.
You sound … you sound… how do I describe how you sound? Low moans and piercing shrieks, panting, gasping. Ragged breaths, harsh cries; words are tumbling out of your mouth a mile a minute, a torrent of them assaulting my ears and caressing my body, but they make no sense. Your voice sends shivers up my spine. Your voice makes me cry out too, the sound of you submitting to me and yet dominating me, taking complete control of all my senses.
You look gorgeous; spread out beneath me, writhing, squirming, moaning and groaning and begging for more, always more. You look edible, you look delicious, you look beautiful and serene, like sculpture of the finest kind. You look sinful, that tinge on your lips is dangerous, that blush on your cheeks treacherous; your eyes of shimmering, piercing green are captivating. They flash with fire and I’m burning in them and burning in you as you thrust and pant and beg for more like the lowliest of vagabonds, and the sweat plasters your hair to your forehead and there’s dirt underneath your fingernails - but you’re as supreme in your bliss and rapture as a king, as radiant as an angel. You’re full of contradictions, they’re everywhere, and I want to make them mine. I will conquer you and throw you down from your pure, shining pedestal, yet even as I ravage you I will make you into a prince, as your beauty, your exquisiteness and delicacy only deserves.