Theatre of Anatomy
Title: Theatre of Anatomy
Genre: Semi-original
Category: WIP; drive by
Pairing: Unnamed
Rating: NC-17 due to graphic nature...
Summary: Glimpses of what Ludo's The Horror of Our Love inspires in my mind...
We've been sitting here for hours; backs pressed against headstones barely clinging to the ground by the brittle soil of untended landscapes of grass and flowers. My throat is raw from the sheer number of cigarettes I've inhaled listening to you speak.
My eyes, I'm sure, are dark slits in the eerie glow of night amongst street lamps and passing vehicles. I'm entranced by the curves of your neck as you look skyward and swallow. I'm hypnotized at the press and suck of your lips around yet another nicotine stick. And the play of muscles along your shoulder and back are nothing less than my newest obsession.
And I know that if you truly understood me... if you truly were ever able to see inside my head that one of two things would happen. You'd either cease contact with me or... I'd be the one to end things. In any case, I pray for the latter. But of course I do. If you knew... you'd know why.
And even as I kiss your tobacco stained lips, I want to hold you down. Baby, I want to do terrible things. I dream of tearing you open and residing deep inside of you. You and only you are home. Wherever you are... that is where I want to be. Fuck, I swear I'll never hurt you.
Each and every time we make love, sugar, it's never enough. Consumation was never so unfulfilling. I want to push deep into you until there's nothing more surrounding me. I want to grind against your bones until our marrows mix. Honey, I will eat you slowly. I will eat you alive.
Genre: Semi-original
Category: WIP; drive by
Pairing: Unnamed
Rating: NC-17 due to graphic nature...
Summary: Glimpses of what Ludo's The Horror of Our Love inspires in my mind...
We've been sitting here for hours; backs pressed against headstones barely clinging to the ground by the brittle soil of untended landscapes of grass and flowers. My throat is raw from the sheer number of cigarettes I've inhaled listening to you speak.
My eyes, I'm sure, are dark slits in the eerie glow of night amongst street lamps and passing vehicles. I'm entranced by the curves of your neck as you look skyward and swallow. I'm hypnotized at the press and suck of your lips around yet another nicotine stick. And the play of muscles along your shoulder and back are nothing less than my newest obsession.
And I know that if you truly understood me... if you truly were ever able to see inside my head that one of two things would happen. You'd either cease contact with me or... I'd be the one to end things. In any case, I pray for the latter. But of course I do. If you knew... you'd know why.
And even as I kiss your tobacco stained lips, I want to hold you down. Baby, I want to do terrible things. I dream of tearing you open and residing deep inside of you. You and only you are home. Wherever you are... that is where I want to be. Fuck, I swear I'll never hurt you.
Each and every time we make love, sugar, it's never enough. Consumation was never so unfulfilling. I want to push deep into you until there's nothing more surrounding me. I want to grind against your bones until our marrows mix. Honey, I will eat you slowly. I will eat you alive.