Ryuu...ko?
I was watching Hyoutei Supporter's DVD just now... and I realised, in the vote for "Ichiban otona no hito" Kazuki actually called Ryu "Ryuuko".
At first I thought it was Ruito, but then Ruirui and Ryu got the same no of votes...
Kazuki!! Don't just go calling my Ryu Ryuuko kay?? >O
Saa.
I found my subtly explicit story I wrote for my workshop! XDD
Characters Rashtin and Daichi belong to me, Ever Dream written by Nightwish.
Ever Dream
“Ever felt away with me? Just once, that all I need… Entwined in finding you one day…”
His voice was sweet and sultry as he sang ‘Ever Dream’ by that gothic band - Nightwish, was it? - under his breath, the lyrics haunting and full of hidden meaning. I paused to watch him sway to the beat, those slim hips slowly moving, left, right, left, right… seductive and sweet. The small mp3 player was nestled in the back pocket of his jeans, its shape barely outlined due to the product’s relative slimness.
He was a boy in my eyes, only a few days before his sixteenth birthday. Sweet sixteen, the humans always say. Sixteen sweet years of innocence, only to be broken by a single, three letter word.
He did not notice me; his ears were too occupied by the small buds that were hidden under long brunette locks. He is only human, I kept telling myself; he does not have any wolf sense in him.
I watched him from the doorway of the kitchen; he was busy making a sandwich out of the random pieces of food he could find to even see me. Two slices of bread, butter, a thin slice of cheese, a generous portion of ham, a few cabbage leaves, pickles and tomatoes; that was his idea of a perfect sandwich. I’d rather have the ham on its own, though.
“Ever felt away without me? My love, it lies so deep… Ever dream of me?”
His voice was pure as he sang the chorus; his falsetto angelic. His voice was already broken, yes, but he still has that clear singing voice choirgirls would die for.
He was swaying again.
“Would you do it with me? Heal the scars and change the stars,” he sang. “Would you do it for me? Turn loose the heaven within…”
I was injured on the day we first met. If I recall correctly, it was raining, and I was still in my wolf-flesh, healing from the wound inflicted by a bullet shot by those damn dogcatchers. At first I growled at him when he approached me, but after some coaxing, a bit of ham - I’m a sucker for ham - and enough patience - I often wonder how much patience he actually has - I allowed him to nurse me.
That was almost a year ago.
“I'd take you away… Castaway on a lonely day,” he continued, those tantalising hips still swaying as he waved the butter knife around like a baton. “Bosom for a teary cheek… My song can but borrow your grace.”
The lyrics fit him so well… He was my saving grace, my angel. Smooth porcelain skin, clear blue eyes, silky brown hair… perhaps it was Fate that had brought us together, two souls once separate now one whole.
But is this all just a dream? I often ask myself, why would a human child, one so pure and innocent, choose to stay with a werewolf?
Doesn’t he know what happened to Little Red Riding Hood when she met the Big Bad Wolf? Doesn’t he know what happened to The Three Little Pigs when they met the Big Bad Wolf?
I once asked him if he ever regretted being with me, with all that human taboos and stuff, especially the one on based on gender. He shook his head, smiled enigmatically and simply said, “I’ll never regret what I myself had chosen.”
I slowly approach him as he tried to squeeze that last bit of mayonnaise out of the bottle. Unfortunately it splattered all over his fingers and the counter rather than on the sandwich itself. I laughed as he frowned and started to reach out for a cloth.
I grabbed his wandering hand and pulled him to me; he blinked, and blushed as he shyly looked away. I grinned wolfishly and plucked out one of his ear buds and inserted it into my ear.
“Hmm, interesting…” I mused, as I licked his fingers clean and listened to the song.
His face was painted a pretty red as he murmured the next few lines. “Come out; come out wherever you are… So lost in your sea… Give in; give in for my touch… For my taste, for my lu- ah! Rashtin! Stop it!”
I smirked as I nibbled on his thumb, worrying the soft pad of flesh. I always loved the way he said my name; those pale pink lips forming the ‘rah’, the teeth coming together to make the hiss, and the slight indignant yelp of the sound that I often associate with food.
He pulled his hand away, just as I began to lick his palm. His cheeks were still flushed; his breathing hitched as I leaned down to lick his neck.
It was me who recited the last verse of the song. “Your beauty cascaded on me,” I whispered in his ear (the one without the ear bud). “In this white night fantasy…”
“This is not a fantasy, Rashtin,” he murmured, his arms coming up to encircle my neck. “I’m here, you’re here; this is all a reality.”
“Yes this is real,” I replied, my fingers ghosting up his sides as we slowly moved as one. “This is not a dream.”
He moaned softly; a provocative mewl that sent shivers up my spine. I pulled him even closer, and almost lost myself then and there if not for the thought of his birthday.
‘No!’ I berated myself mentally. ‘It’s only a few more days! You can wait, right?’
“I can wait,” I muttered under my breath, and he looked up at me curiously, cheeks still tinged red.
“Wait?” he asked, his head cocked to one side. “Whatever for?”
I smiled at him; he was still so naïve, even after living with me for a year.
“A few more days, my dear,” I grinned. He pouted, and I chuckled.
“Come now, eat your sandwich,” I said, grabbing a plate and placing the prepared meal on it. “It’ll get cold.”
He pouted again and took the plate from me. “Sandwiches don’t get cold, Rashtin,” he replied, wriggling out of my grasp. “Mine’s already half-cold to begin with.”
I scooped him into my arms, bridal style. He blinked once, hands still clutching the plate; I laughed at the sight and kissed him on the cheek. He flushed again.
“I can walk you know,” he huffed, lower lip still stuck out stubbornly.
I laughed again and kissed him, this time on the lips. “Give me a bit of indulgence before you grow even heavier and I can’t carry you like this anymore,” I smirked. “Besides, you better get used to this after your birthday.”
“Huh?” he blinked cutely again. “What’s so special about my sixteenth birthday?”
I chuckled at his confused expression. “My dear, I fear you may neither have the endurance nor the strength to walk again once I’m done with you.”
He was still clueless as to what I was hinting… Ah well. All the better I suppose. I grinned to myself and brought my prize out of the kitchen and into the living room.
At first I thought it was Ruito, but then Ruirui and Ryu got the same no of votes...
Kazuki!! Don't just go calling my Ryu Ryuuko kay?? >O
Saa.
I found my subtly explicit story I wrote for my workshop! XDD
Characters Rashtin and Daichi belong to me, Ever Dream written by Nightwish.
Ever Dream
“Ever felt away with me? Just once, that all I need… Entwined in finding you one day…”
His voice was sweet and sultry as he sang ‘Ever Dream’ by that gothic band - Nightwish, was it? - under his breath, the lyrics haunting and full of hidden meaning. I paused to watch him sway to the beat, those slim hips slowly moving, left, right, left, right… seductive and sweet. The small mp3 player was nestled in the back pocket of his jeans, its shape barely outlined due to the product’s relative slimness.
He was a boy in my eyes, only a few days before his sixteenth birthday. Sweet sixteen, the humans always say. Sixteen sweet years of innocence, only to be broken by a single, three letter word.
He did not notice me; his ears were too occupied by the small buds that were hidden under long brunette locks. He is only human, I kept telling myself; he does not have any wolf sense in him.
I watched him from the doorway of the kitchen; he was busy making a sandwich out of the random pieces of food he could find to even see me. Two slices of bread, butter, a thin slice of cheese, a generous portion of ham, a few cabbage leaves, pickles and tomatoes; that was his idea of a perfect sandwich. I’d rather have the ham on its own, though.
“Ever felt away without me? My love, it lies so deep… Ever dream of me?”
His voice was pure as he sang the chorus; his falsetto angelic. His voice was already broken, yes, but he still has that clear singing voice choirgirls would die for.
He was swaying again.
“Would you do it with me? Heal the scars and change the stars,” he sang. “Would you do it for me? Turn loose the heaven within…”
I was injured on the day we first met. If I recall correctly, it was raining, and I was still in my wolf-flesh, healing from the wound inflicted by a bullet shot by those damn dogcatchers. At first I growled at him when he approached me, but after some coaxing, a bit of ham - I’m a sucker for ham - and enough patience - I often wonder how much patience he actually has - I allowed him to nurse me.
That was almost a year ago.
“I'd take you away… Castaway on a lonely day,” he continued, those tantalising hips still swaying as he waved the butter knife around like a baton. “Bosom for a teary cheek… My song can but borrow your grace.”
The lyrics fit him so well… He was my saving grace, my angel. Smooth porcelain skin, clear blue eyes, silky brown hair… perhaps it was Fate that had brought us together, two souls once separate now one whole.
But is this all just a dream? I often ask myself, why would a human child, one so pure and innocent, choose to stay with a werewolf?
Doesn’t he know what happened to Little Red Riding Hood when she met the Big Bad Wolf? Doesn’t he know what happened to The Three Little Pigs when they met the Big Bad Wolf?
I once asked him if he ever regretted being with me, with all that human taboos and stuff, especially the one on based on gender. He shook his head, smiled enigmatically and simply said, “I’ll never regret what I myself had chosen.”
I slowly approach him as he tried to squeeze that last bit of mayonnaise out of the bottle. Unfortunately it splattered all over his fingers and the counter rather than on the sandwich itself. I laughed as he frowned and started to reach out for a cloth.
I grabbed his wandering hand and pulled him to me; he blinked, and blushed as he shyly looked away. I grinned wolfishly and plucked out one of his ear buds and inserted it into my ear.
“Hmm, interesting…” I mused, as I licked his fingers clean and listened to the song.
His face was painted a pretty red as he murmured the next few lines. “Come out; come out wherever you are… So lost in your sea… Give in; give in for my touch… For my taste, for my lu- ah! Rashtin! Stop it!”
I smirked as I nibbled on his thumb, worrying the soft pad of flesh. I always loved the way he said my name; those pale pink lips forming the ‘rah’, the teeth coming together to make the hiss, and the slight indignant yelp of the sound that I often associate with food.
He pulled his hand away, just as I began to lick his palm. His cheeks were still flushed; his breathing hitched as I leaned down to lick his neck.
It was me who recited the last verse of the song. “Your beauty cascaded on me,” I whispered in his ear (the one without the ear bud). “In this white night fantasy…”
“This is not a fantasy, Rashtin,” he murmured, his arms coming up to encircle my neck. “I’m here, you’re here; this is all a reality.”
“Yes this is real,” I replied, my fingers ghosting up his sides as we slowly moved as one. “This is not a dream.”
He moaned softly; a provocative mewl that sent shivers up my spine. I pulled him even closer, and almost lost myself then and there if not for the thought of his birthday.
‘No!’ I berated myself mentally. ‘It’s only a few more days! You can wait, right?’
“I can wait,” I muttered under my breath, and he looked up at me curiously, cheeks still tinged red.
“Wait?” he asked, his head cocked to one side. “Whatever for?”
I smiled at him; he was still so naïve, even after living with me for a year.
“A few more days, my dear,” I grinned. He pouted, and I chuckled.
“Come now, eat your sandwich,” I said, grabbing a plate and placing the prepared meal on it. “It’ll get cold.”
He pouted again and took the plate from me. “Sandwiches don’t get cold, Rashtin,” he replied, wriggling out of my grasp. “Mine’s already half-cold to begin with.”
I scooped him into my arms, bridal style. He blinked once, hands still clutching the plate; I laughed at the sight and kissed him on the cheek. He flushed again.
“I can walk you know,” he huffed, lower lip still stuck out stubbornly.
I laughed again and kissed him, this time on the lips. “Give me a bit of indulgence before you grow even heavier and I can’t carry you like this anymore,” I smirked. “Besides, you better get used to this after your birthday.”
“Huh?” he blinked cutely again. “What’s so special about my sixteenth birthday?”
I chuckled at his confused expression. “My dear, I fear you may neither have the endurance nor the strength to walk again once I’m done with you.”
He was still clueless as to what I was hinting… Ah well. All the better I suppose. I grinned to myself and brought my prize out of the kitchen and into the living room.