Taste of lovePairing:
.... R? bad language and strong scene xDGenre:
"If you commited the sin I'd take the punishment, if you wanted to kill someone I'd do it for you..."
OMG XD at last I wrote something .___. it's weird and it's not a typical fic, but it's something... short, oneshot. (I should be worrying about final exams~ XD)Hyde's POV xP
Taste of Love“The moon is not white tonight” he said slowly, breaking the silence.
It was an uncomfortable situation and those words didn’t help much. He knew that I knew he wasn’t feeling guilty at all. And he knew that I was bleeding.
“Is it yellow?” I asked him, not even caring to move an inch or even blink. I had a feeling that any movement would hurt, and I was afraid to prove my theory.
“Yes…” he whispered back to me, his voice failing to sound strong. I knew he was crying.
I was not going to turn my head and stare at him cry. I could picture him perfectly, I knew his face inch by inch… and I also knew his body. I knew he liked to stay quiet and let the moment devour time.
And I also knew that he wasn’t crying because of me or my pain. He was crying for himself. For what was lost…
Yet, that self-pity could not last much…
“The smell of your blood is intoxicating.” He said, this time his voice was low and sensual. He was quicker that I thought, and for a moment I did pity him. I had to pity his lost soul for it was a reflection of my own.
I could feel the movement of his head in the pillow next to mine. He was staring at me and he was crying… and he still was trying to arouse me.
“It hurts” I said without expression. I was lost in contemplation of the white ceiling that had now turned yellow to my eyes thanks to Tetsu’s comment. The moon was indeed yellow tonight…
“It’s normal… it’ll stop soon.” he whispered, almost angry at my comment. He had no pity for me. He was just trying to woo me.
The wind coming from the open window tickled my naked skin and made me shiver. It hurt like hell and he was trying to get between my legs again. Cynical bastard… it was a curse to love him so.
I closed my eyes. I knew he was moving next to me and he was not getting out of bed, he was getting closer to me. First thing I noticed was his finger caressing my right arm, moving slowly, as though I might break in a moment. And maybe I would… I could feel the warm blood leaving my body through one of the places I didn’t care to think of. I just wanted it to stop.
“Your skin is so soft” he whispered, and now I could feel his breath close to my shoulder. The predator was getting closer to its victim, and the victim had been helplessly abandoned to its fate.
“Fuck you” I whispered back, almost kindly.
He laughed and placed a kiss on my shoulder playfully, as though he liked the thought of me hating him. I didn’t have to look at him to realize the tears that he had shed were dry now and he was playing with me again. Treating me like a puppet, like a dog or maybe… like a woman.
His hand was now in my chest, moving slowly up and down without a pattern or motive… or so I thought. Most of the time I was the naïve one, the one who thought that sex had to do with love, or love had to do with sex.
Sad thing is you only realize you’re wrong when you’ve dived into the soul of the unknown.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, almost playfully.
…And I was afraid to answer. If I said ‘yes’ would he care? Or would that arouse him even more?
Ah, if only I knew how to end this… and yet, I was madly in love with him.
I opened my eyes at last and blinked. The ceiling was still tinted with yellow. The moon had not taken pity on me.
“It’s only a game, isn’t it? You don’t care…” I said flatly. I slowly moved my head, leaving the ceiling with its cracks and spots only to turn to see him.
His face was next to my shoulder; behind him the window let the yellow light filter to the small room, painting the white sheets that covered half his body. His long hair had fallen to his shoulder and to my arm, his face was dark and yet his eyes burned.
He didn’t answer me, and I didn’t expect him to. The hand that had been caressing my chest was gone now, and he was simply staring.
The look in his eyes scared me for a moment. A cold, unfeeling stare.
Before I knew it, he was on top of me.
He didn’t care if I was bleeding or if I yelped when he roughly opened my legs and positioned himself between them.
The look in his eyes told me that he had no pity for me or my pain… or my love for him.
I knew he didn’t love me and he wouldn’t be kind tonight or next night… or any night. And still, I couldn’t help but feel relieved.
If he wanted to fuck me to death, let him do it.
I’d so much just to be with him… I would kill to be next to him, and I would take the punishment over and over again.
I’d probably shed my own blood without regret… just to feel that skin.
If death has to take me someday, let it take me when I’m in his arms.
Let the moon laugh and the wind howl.
I’m his tonight…
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