Sapientia Et Veritas, Et Non
"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"
You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for ( Read more... )
It was like playing a game. Make believe. A world where they were normal; nothing but brothers. Sometimes he wanted so bad for the lie to be true that he almost convinced himself. But then Ed would look at him, like he was the most important thing in Ed’s world, and they were straight back to square one.
Ed’s eyes were so dark it made him feel wild, the poison that made him want it coursing under his skin. Ed’s mouth was responsive, eager, and David pushed him back against the door, stroked his hands up under the starched material of his shirt, swallowed Ed’s soft gasp of pleasure.
There wasn’t enough time, there never was. It was always too frightening, too dangerous. Somebody might find them, or they might get lost in it. Stray so far they lose the way back completely.
Ed pushed into his palm, fingers hot through his own shirt where they scrabbled at his back. “Please, David,” he begged as David touched him, pressing closer even as they both knew they ought to be drifting apart. “Please.”
It was urgent, frantic, and he bit down at Ed’s lip, wanting to mark him as his own. It couldn’t last, it was impossible, and afterwards they both stared at each other, horrified. He rearranged his clothing, not knowing what else to do, while Ed stood still, pale and watching without seeing.
He reached out to fix Ed’s tie, to sort him out, but Ed flinched away, took a step back from him.
“Don’t. Please, David.”
He let his hand fall to his side, trying and failing to find the words to explain what he was thinking. Ed soothed out his shirt, ran his tongue over his swollen lip, and finally looked at him, stating the obvious,
“You’re about to get married.”
The air was thick, tense. There was nothing to say, and the words wouldn’t come in any case. He didn’t jump when the knock came at the door, though it startled him, and Ed had to be the one who answered, ushered him towards it.
Their gaze met, as he stood at the threshold, and Ed whispered, barely audible,
“It never happened.”
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