...niko neji kao ti.
...no one is like you.
Sheets of multiple colors wrapped tirelessly around his young body, shaking between his legs, across his chest and around his waist. His moan was dreadful, though I barely heard it escape his lips.
I was too enthralled with the teardrop that sat solemnly on his eyelid.
I shone with a silvery light in the luminous moon rays, seeping through his bedroom window. It reflected his room, if I looked close enough and glistened with some holy light.
I wanted to touch it, to taste it, to feel it's wet sensation kiss my nerves.
I just wanted to experience what it felt like to have something of him. Something he produced, he made. Even if not for me, I would be the naughty one I was habitually, and steal this tear.
The queer and foolish thing about this teardrop, was I wanted it almost more than anything.
His grunts and twisting continued, and another dewdrop of salt appeared. I sighed, touching my lips to his face. Just one taste...
I wonder what he was dreaming about, what thoughts and memories were eating his brain.
I felt the droplet touch my pass trough my lips, and touch my tongue with the strong tangy taste of salt. Its bitterness invaded my senses, and I suddenly knew what sorrow must taste like.
It tasted strong, tasted painful and almost good at the same time. It tasted heavy, sensuous and passionate. It sent shivers of frozen winter cold down my spine, made me notice each molecule of flavor in my mouth. It tasted ironicly unreal.
He must have been dreaming of his mother, his beloved Achika. Her beautiful soul was still haunting him endlessly in the night hours.
I drank more sorrow from his face, greedily taking the precious liquid in my body, making me more a part of him. Drinking away his grief.
It tasted so wonderful, so beautifully good. I wanted more and more, and I suddenly found myself distressed over the fact I was eagerly hoping he would undergo more painful memories. All I wanted was to drink his pain.
Fog covered my eyes, making me gasp and push my self from Tenchi's bed. I was becoming a monster, wanting his pain so I could have my pleasure.
But his pain would always eat away my pleasure, and I would rather give up even experiencing this wonderful taste of salty sorrow, if it would take one second of pain from his breathtaking heart.
His eyes fluttered with grace, waking up to the darkness lined with silver light, blurry with the liquid salt still in his eyes. He yawned, finally noticing me in the shadows.
"What's the matter, Ryoko?"
Nothing and everything is wrong, but I didn't say anything of that sort.
"You had a bad dream."
His eyes, embarrassed, flickered their brown stare to the floor of his bedroom.
I smiled, walking towards him slowly, reaching my fingers and touching his hair so lightly I almost didn't feel it.
"Talk to me about it"
He looked sullen, afraid;
"Ryoko, I don't think you care about my dream...it's nothing but a stupid nightmare...I should grow up and forget about it."
I smiled again, "I dream too. Just try me out, I probably know what you're going through..."
Irony blazed passively in his eyes, "Really? How?"
I sighed shakily, my tongue running along my cracked bottom lip nervously. My eyes glassed over softly, misting with unshed tears for his sake.
Each feeling of sorrow and painful memory passed from his mind into our world with his teardrops. So beautiful and genuine, so cherished by my senses I almost felt addicted.
I wanted to tell him, it taste salty. Pain taste like bitter disgusting, wonderful salt, but in the moment I didn't know what I would say...
Why did it feel like I had forever to decide?
Review me, please.
I do not own Tenchi Muyo.
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