[Fanfiction] - Cesare/Chiaro - Whim
Well, this is just something a touch random I wrote today. It's a little different to my usual style, so I hope I don't horrify anyone. Then again, if I get around to posting the Godchild fic I just wrote I think I'll horrify everyone. :p
Fandom: Cantarella
Title: Whim
Beta: butterflygirl_3 read over it...*looks cautiously at both her betas*...you two don't mind me using both of you, do you? You're both amazingly awesome. <3
Word count: 487 (whoa, this is very short for me.)
Characters/Pairing: Cesare/Chiaro
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi/slash (surprise surprise), spoilers for volume 4 of the manga.
Summary: Cesare discovers that sometimes whims have repercussions he has not anticipated.
A/N: Takes place just after Cesare plants one on Chiaro in the forest/gardens in volume 4. Now that was what I call a good scene. XD
*****
Cesare brushes a kiss against Chiaro’s lips on a whim, so lightly it is barely a kiss at all. The mischievous shadows urge him on as the wine lends him red velvet courage. Or perhaps caprice. Still, Chiaro is impossible to resist, draped in the shadows, his expression a mixture of chagrin and sweet concern. The moon has hidden her face behind the veil of the night sky, so who is there to see?
Is it his imagination, or do Chiaro’s lips part a little against his? Perhaps in shock, as he stiffens likes a virgin girl stunned by the boldness of her paramour, perhaps in something entirely more delicious. Cesare longs to taste him, to wrap his fingers in that corn silk hair and pull him closer, but he knows he cannot. So he slips back into the shadows, his lips burning, the scent of Chiaro clinging to his skin.
The shadows welcome him back into their embrace, the night breeze cooling his flushed cheeks. He is almost giddy, drunk on a drop of something far sweeter than any wine he’s ever tasted. He leans back against a tree, shutting his eyes and trying to bring his breathing under control. It was just a kiss. Just a whim.
So why does he feel as though his blood has caught fire? He bites his lip, battling the urge to swoop from the shadows and fuse himself with Chiaro’s body, to push him onto the bare earth and relish every flavour he has to offer. To nip that pale skin until it bruises, mark it as his own. To rake his nails down Chiaro’s back while the assassin gasps his name like a prayer from between swollen lips, to strip away all the cloth between them until they are bare, body and soul, skin on skin, sweat on sweat…
He swallows hard, taking a shuddering breath and turning away. He can’t. He can’t. He wonders if Chiaro is blushing, pale skin kissed pink with…with what? Shock? Shame? Desire? He could bear the first two, but the third might be his unravelling.
‘Chiaro.’ He breathes it to the wind, as if the night can somehow purify the tumult inside him. He breathes it, and imagines whispering it in a thousand different ways in a thousand different places. ‘Chiaro,’ he sighs, burying his face in his hands. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’
Little suicides, like kisses, every time they’re together. One day, he’ll die by Chiaro’s hand, one way or another, whether it is a sword that pierces his heart or merely words that spell out his undoing. For love…love? What is love? It was a whim. A foolish whim.
‘Chiaro,’ he says, one last time, enjoying the flavour of the word. The breeze presses cold kisses against his damp forehead and he stands alone in the night, suddenly chilled.
The taste of you is seared into my memory.
Not my best ever, but I sort of liked it in an odd way. Thoughts?
Fandom: Cantarella
Title: Whim
Beta: butterflygirl_3 read over it...*looks cautiously at both her betas*...you two don't mind me using both of you, do you? You're both amazingly awesome. <3
Word count: 487 (whoa, this is very short for me.)
Characters/Pairing: Cesare/Chiaro
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi/slash (surprise surprise), spoilers for volume 4 of the manga.
Summary: Cesare discovers that sometimes whims have repercussions he has not anticipated.
A/N: Takes place just after Cesare plants one on Chiaro in the forest/gardens in volume 4. Now that was what I call a good scene. XD
*****
Cesare brushes a kiss against Chiaro’s lips on a whim, so lightly it is barely a kiss at all. The mischievous shadows urge him on as the wine lends him red velvet courage. Or perhaps caprice. Still, Chiaro is impossible to resist, draped in the shadows, his expression a mixture of chagrin and sweet concern. The moon has hidden her face behind the veil of the night sky, so who is there to see?
Is it his imagination, or do Chiaro’s lips part a little against his? Perhaps in shock, as he stiffens likes a virgin girl stunned by the boldness of her paramour, perhaps in something entirely more delicious. Cesare longs to taste him, to wrap his fingers in that corn silk hair and pull him closer, but he knows he cannot. So he slips back into the shadows, his lips burning, the scent of Chiaro clinging to his skin.
The shadows welcome him back into their embrace, the night breeze cooling his flushed cheeks. He is almost giddy, drunk on a drop of something far sweeter than any wine he’s ever tasted. He leans back against a tree, shutting his eyes and trying to bring his breathing under control. It was just a kiss. Just a whim.
So why does he feel as though his blood has caught fire? He bites his lip, battling the urge to swoop from the shadows and fuse himself with Chiaro’s body, to push him onto the bare earth and relish every flavour he has to offer. To nip that pale skin until it bruises, mark it as his own. To rake his nails down Chiaro’s back while the assassin gasps his name like a prayer from between swollen lips, to strip away all the cloth between them until they are bare, body and soul, skin on skin, sweat on sweat…
He swallows hard, taking a shuddering breath and turning away. He can’t. He can’t. He wonders if Chiaro is blushing, pale skin kissed pink with…with what? Shock? Shame? Desire? He could bear the first two, but the third might be his unravelling.
‘Chiaro.’ He breathes it to the wind, as if the night can somehow purify the tumult inside him. He breathes it, and imagines whispering it in a thousand different ways in a thousand different places. ‘Chiaro,’ he sighs, burying his face in his hands. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’
Little suicides, like kisses, every time they’re together. One day, he’ll die by Chiaro’s hand, one way or another, whether it is a sword that pierces his heart or merely words that spell out his undoing. For love…love? What is love? It was a whim. A foolish whim.
‘Chiaro,’ he says, one last time, enjoying the flavour of the word. The breeze presses cold kisses against his damp forehead and he stands alone in the night, suddenly chilled.
The taste of you is seared into my memory.
Not my best ever, but I sort of liked it in an odd way. Thoughts?