tastekissravagelove

Author's notes: Oh gods, I've done it. I've written a shaglet. *hangs head* So, how was it? It's abstract, I was feeling a bit squicky about writing a full-fledged sex scene. Use your imaginations. Inspired by TATU's 30 minutes and Clowns (can you see me now?).

Love and angst,
Vivica

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

tastekissravagelove

They are flying, and it is inexplicably wrong and intricately beautiful.

Their minds beg forgiveness and supply them with gauzy lies because this is unforgivable, but their bodies continue with their fervent movements, hunger welling in their eyes like tears and heat pooling on their skin like sweat.

Not yet giving into bliss, the movements are still jerky and forceful; it is still a competition, a challenge, pain for pleasure. Clothing is discarded deftly, an occasional tearing sound shattering the fragility of panting and eager breath, landing in gleaming pools of green and scarlet on dark stone. Lips move soundlessly, placing gentle kisses in hesitant patterns, sampling, tasting, taking in the fresh youthful scents and greedily devouring the flesh that is slowly bared as robes land in artistic puddles. There is no battling, although the rhythm is rough and powerful, there is no domination, only pain that has become gentle and welcome. Pale fingers explore tanned skin, tracing sinewy heaven and dreamlike smoothness. Reality is a facade, this room is outside of time, and they can believe it is all a recurring fantasy. The truth would be shattering. Best to pretend that this euphoria is induced by a dream; best to believe that nothing has changed once the sweat cools.

Tanned hands, strong but gentle, caress ghostly pallor, breathing in the scent of moonlight-hued hair, silky and pale as the moonbeams streaming in through the open window, cloaking them with cool air. Whispers flutter on weak butterfly wings, the fearful words not making it to the other, forever held captive and silent by the moonlight. The aged stone room holds onto their secrets forever, and all the lies run together like colors in water, until neither one knows the truth - in this moment in time, it doesn't matter.

Tongues meet and thrust in time with the bodies crashing wildly together, begging for friction almost audibly - begging for more, more, more. Teeth scrape and low moans rumble in their throats but don't travel, and it is all perfect, even the pain, even the ferocity of it all. None of it is wrong - all of it is wrong. But it is a fantasy, and it never has to end, never has to change. Velvet lips don't ever have to detach and eager tongues never have to part, because there is no hunger, there is no expectation. It is all gone when skin meets skin and bodies collide roughly but so tenderly.

Hands explore, mouths taste and lap on delicious skin that they could ravage for eternity, bodies pressed hungrily together and never parting - never, never, never. It is beautiful and terrifying and perfect, completely perfect. Together they are poetry, light and shadow, incomparable and yet alike. Lover of pain and lover of pleasure; lovers.

And finally, sweet entrance and a soft gasp as he is taken by his enemy, his lover, with a gentleness he did not think possible. Filled and complete, moving in rhythm and in time; perfect together.

Friction intensifies, eliciting moans of pain and ultimate delight. Nails scrape his lover's back and leave jagged marks but neither take notice. Teeth bite and scrape swollen ruby lips, they are swallowing each other, marking each other, becoming each other and entering the other's mind. The blood welling in the wound marring a pale neck, bloody crescents dug into tanned legs, all adds to perfection and unity as blood runs together.

It is all a dream, a fantasy, but they know that the markings will be there come morning, dissolving the lie. But they will cling to the shreds of the veil as they always do, a dream where they can tastekissravagelove and never part.

Movements grow faster, hips thrust and lips part silently, caught in bliss, in heaven, in euphoria, in completion. They scream as release comes in unison, and both collapse, breath coming in ragged, hands still roaming smooth flesh, touching, marking, ravaging.

They are flying, and the dream never ends.

Both tell themselves that it must never end. They can fly forever, trapped in blissful eternity, but both know the truth underneath the thin veil. One day they will meet again, and their perfect bodies will meet in battle; one of them will say goodbye.

Until then, they ravage each other in a different manner, four letter words set aside, because one day, goodbye will be all that matters.