sunshine_173 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunshine_173) wrote2011-12-11 10:14 pm
sunshine_173) wrote2011-12-11 10:14 pm
Entry tags:
Fragments
author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunshine_173
rating: Somewhere close to PG-13.
pairing: Implied Belldom
summary: Dom becomes obsessed with a one-night-stand he had with some barely legal youngin' who wanted to get his virginity out of the way.
feedback: I wants it, my precious.
disclaimer: I think if I owned Muse, you would know about it. They're a bit famous so I doubt it'd be something easily hidden.
warning: The mildest of mild language - seriously like one word that is somewhat bad and I'm sure y'all have said worse. Implications of sex.
note: so I've had a handful of one-liners drifting around my brain the last week or so and I wanted to write a drabble with them. Long story short, I ended up daring myself to write it in the time it took for Once Upon A Time episode 7 to download on uTorrent or I wouldn't post it. Which was estimated to be 34 minutes but ended up taking around 46-47. So I did it with like, 12 seconds to spare. I'm so damn proud of myself. Aaaand here it is! A 777 word drabble. Thanksies tolalalive23 for reading it over and let me know if it made sense.
I never knew how easy it’d be to become lost in someone’s eyes until I met him.
They were labyrinthine, radiant and glowing. I spent hours counting the different shades overflowing in those wide and wondering eyes. Amber and gold and daylight, sapphire and crystal and night. They were my solace, my comfort.
I am constantly amazed by how much I miss them, staring up at me from a kingdom of pillows and blankets. They were the only color on that bed of white, the ebony fringe across his forehead striking against the contrasting comforter. I had found salvation in the bone-white stretch of his knuckles when he clenched his fists in the sheets to the side of his tossed head as I took and claimed and possessed.
He never stopped me. Through every gasp of pain and surprise he would never back away, never push away. Instead pull me closer and bite back any emotion other than the most primal. His beauty would fall between my fingers when I thread my hand through his hair, whimpers and whispers slipping from his hushed lips.
I was a prisoner of his grace and my conscience buried its guilt.
I could feel the whole universe sigh when he moaned. I can still hear that sound even now as I lay naked in a bed, staring at the ceiling above me. I will never be privy to it again.
I remember the first time he came to me. Or I to him. I can’t recall the exact details anymore; it’s been so long. What I do remember are his eyes. Holding me, enslaving me, making me say yes despite the fact he was just a boy. The memories blur by but I can still remember how I choked on the air he breathed and I was held captive by his utter vulnerability.
I had traced the inked shape of the wings on his back, flaring and wrapping around his sides, hugging his ribs and hipbones. The tattoo surrounded his tiny body, black plumage against pure skin. He was so young, so fragile. He destroyed me.
The one memory that stands out the most was how I could feel heaven break above us when he shouted my name. His voice was unrestrained and broken. We were halfway to hell and he was so glorious.
And then he was gone. I woke up and he had disappeared, the bed still dipped from the shape of his body. I knew it wouldn’t last but I had at least hoped he’d stay for breakfast or a shower.
I had felt used but I loved it. I’d taken the body of an innocent and dirtied him, but he had wanted it and left once he was fulfilled.
That doesn’t the change the fact that I had become completely captivated by him in the several conscious hours we’d been together. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was loneliness.
But in the weeks it’s been since that night I still find myself waking in a cold sweat with his vivid stare flashing behind my eyelids.
My boyfriend was upset when he found out, but he understood. He always understood.
But not anymore. He called me obsessed and faithless, despite our agreement to have an open relationship.
He sent me to a hotel with an overnight bag and told me to “get my shit together”.
That was six days ago.
I haven’t eaten, haven’t showered. I just long for the sting of his nails across my shoulder blades and the burning scream of his ecstasy as he cried the filthiest hallelujah.
My mobile’s battery went out after one of the countless rings around the third day.
Visions of his fingers dancing patterns in the air as he smiled in a post-orgasmic haze flash in my mind.
He had promised to find me again but no matter how often I returned to that street corner he was never there.
The devil on my shoulder told me to find him, to track him down, but the truth is there are a lot of Matthews in England. That same devil beat down its angelic friend and now the whispers of my loss drifted in my bloodstream and remind me that I was an idiot to have not asked for his full name.
Chances are Matthew wasn’t his real one.
Ebony and ivory and midnight and innocence.
He left my soul in fragments and pieces and I won’t feel whole again until I find him.
I will continue to wait here, dreaming, desiring, wanting, wishing, crying, and clawing.
Addiction and compassion and corruption.
I lost my soul when he left me.
sunshine_173rating: Somewhere close to PG-13.
pairing: Implied Belldom
summary: Dom becomes obsessed with a one-night-stand he had with some barely legal youngin' who wanted to get his virginity out of the way.
feedback: I wants it, my precious.
disclaimer: I think if I owned Muse, you would know about it. They're a bit famous so I doubt it'd be something easily hidden.
warning: The mildest of mild language - seriously like one word that is somewhat bad and I'm sure y'all have said worse. Implications of sex.
note: so I've had a handful of one-liners drifting around my brain the last week or so and I wanted to write a drabble with them. Long story short, I ended up daring myself to write it in the time it took for Once Upon A Time episode 7 to download on uTorrent or I wouldn't post it. Which was estimated to be 34 minutes but ended up taking around 46-47. So I did it with like, 12 seconds to spare. I'm so damn proud of myself. Aaaand here it is! A 777 word drabble. Thanksies to
lalalive23 for reading it over and let me know if it made sense. I never knew how easy it’d be to become lost in someone’s eyes until I met him.
They were labyrinthine, radiant and glowing. I spent hours counting the different shades overflowing in those wide and wondering eyes. Amber and gold and daylight, sapphire and crystal and night. They were my solace, my comfort.
I am constantly amazed by how much I miss them, staring up at me from a kingdom of pillows and blankets. They were the only color on that bed of white, the ebony fringe across his forehead striking against the contrasting comforter. I had found salvation in the bone-white stretch of his knuckles when he clenched his fists in the sheets to the side of his tossed head as I took and claimed and possessed.
He never stopped me. Through every gasp of pain and surprise he would never back away, never push away. Instead pull me closer and bite back any emotion other than the most primal. His beauty would fall between my fingers when I thread my hand through his hair, whimpers and whispers slipping from his hushed lips.
I was a prisoner of his grace and my conscience buried its guilt.
I could feel the whole universe sigh when he moaned. I can still hear that sound even now as I lay naked in a bed, staring at the ceiling above me. I will never be privy to it again.
I remember the first time he came to me. Or I to him. I can’t recall the exact details anymore; it’s been so long. What I do remember are his eyes. Holding me, enslaving me, making me say yes despite the fact he was just a boy. The memories blur by but I can still remember how I choked on the air he breathed and I was held captive by his utter vulnerability.
I had traced the inked shape of the wings on his back, flaring and wrapping around his sides, hugging his ribs and hipbones. The tattoo surrounded his tiny body, black plumage against pure skin. He was so young, so fragile. He destroyed me.
The one memory that stands out the most was how I could feel heaven break above us when he shouted my name. His voice was unrestrained and broken. We were halfway to hell and he was so glorious.
And then he was gone. I woke up and he had disappeared, the bed still dipped from the shape of his body. I knew it wouldn’t last but I had at least hoped he’d stay for breakfast or a shower.
I had felt used but I loved it. I’d taken the body of an innocent and dirtied him, but he had wanted it and left once he was fulfilled.
That doesn’t the change the fact that I had become completely captivated by him in the several conscious hours we’d been together. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was loneliness.
But in the weeks it’s been since that night I still find myself waking in a cold sweat with his vivid stare flashing behind my eyelids.
My boyfriend was upset when he found out, but he understood. He always understood.
But not anymore. He called me obsessed and faithless, despite our agreement to have an open relationship.
He sent me to a hotel with an overnight bag and told me to “get my shit together”.
That was six days ago.
I haven’t eaten, haven’t showered. I just long for the sting of his nails across my shoulder blades and the burning scream of his ecstasy as he cried the filthiest hallelujah.
My mobile’s battery went out after one of the countless rings around the third day.
Visions of his fingers dancing patterns in the air as he smiled in a post-orgasmic haze flash in my mind.
He had promised to find me again but no matter how often I returned to that street corner he was never there.
The devil on my shoulder told me to find him, to track him down, but the truth is there are a lot of Matthews in England. That same devil beat down its angelic friend and now the whispers of my loss drifted in my bloodstream and remind me that I was an idiot to have not asked for his full name.
Chances are Matthew wasn’t his real one.
Ebony and ivory and midnight and innocence.
He left my soul in fragments and pieces and I won’t feel whole again until I find him.
I will continue to wait here, dreaming, desiring, wanting, wishing, crying, and clawing.
Addiction and compassion and corruption.
I lost my soul when he left me.