Note: 'Morning's tale' means flashback and 'Sunset' means end of flashback. Just thought it would be cooler if I wrote it that way. LOL. (dork alert)
I have decided to post this chapter here in since this doesn't contain hardcore lemons and stuff, so I figured it would be okay to post this.
Oh, To Satisfy Kyohei and His Perversions
The hues that signaled the death of sunlight and the birth of early evening roused her to a wake. She breathed in extendedly. He smelt of perfume doused upon mild sweat. The locks of hair bestowed upon his head scattered into an array of gold and chrome, patches of broken amber from the sunset's rays disrupting the continuous flow of blonde-colored strands. Vivid images of what had happened earlier entered her mind as she gazed upon his form; the white sheets the only barrier for her to see his manhood.
It was through his hidden darkness that she had seen this radiant, new aspect of life; through his shunned luminosity that she had seen that the dark could be beautiful too.
The lean image of his back gave off the illusion of a certain enchantment: he was human in her eyes yet he was not. A mixture of longing and the unquenched thirst to be a part of him made her see him as a new creature.
He was of the dark, but he was something so much more than that to her now. He was the barrier that divides light from dark; beauty from ugliness. He masqueraded as a radiant being but emitted blackened views of his personality.
A look of befuddled surprise was shown on her face as he stirred. Leisurely, he rolled to face her. He blinked a few times before yawning.
"What time is it?" she answered him. Five in the afternoon. They hadn't come down in six hours. "No wonder why I'm hungry." He opened his eyes fully. Umber amidst lashes of darkened chrome. "I want strawberries. I'm starving."
He abruptly sat up from his position. What had transpired earlier ran through his mind. And for a series of seconds, panic flared up in him. This was real. It hadn't been a dream after all!
He cautiously averted his gaze from his half-naked body to Sunako's impassive look to the covered mounds of her breasts. And all at once, it was this morning again.
Kyohei rose to his knees. He eyed the oversized shirt that shielded her perky little breasts and the loose jogging pants that failed to conceal the contours of her thin legs. Why anybody would cover the kind of loveliness she had, he could think up of very few reasons, but why someone would call her 'ugly,' he could never comprehend.
"Take it off." He wanted to see the woman that is Sunako Nakahara. While Kyohei spoke orders in a harsh manner before, now was quite gentler.
We breathe in air as we breathe in beauty. And she was precisely that: beauty. The one whose name is carried over mountains to be known, and yet, ironically, the one who ceases to have its significance once time batters and wears it down with its fists of years.
You see, beauty is an illusion.
We forget to see that the hag was once the fairest maiden and the beast was once the most handsome prince of them all. Beauty dies and so does ugliness. The thing that reigns eternal is something that goes beyond physicality. To put it into simpler words, the flower, in all its exquisiteness, rots away. But what it stood up for, what it symbolized, is eternal. And that is precisely what he saw in Sunako Nakahara: the immortal beauty that so few seem to possess with all their rouged faces and their fragrant powdered skin.
He started to wonder if she saw the radiance that she tries so hard to lock away in her heart, the radiance that still shows through the darkness like the beams of the moon at night. More than anything else, he wanted to bask unto the rays of beauty that she had. He lusted over it.
"Take it off", he repeated in a gentler way than before.
She stared at him, dumbfounded.
A grunt escaped his lips as he bent down to take off her shirt. Cups of white flesh lay before his sight. Black masks of lace covered her mounds. He felt like a child ready to open his present as he unclasped her bra.
And he was not about to be disappointed as he saw the buttons that resembled the puckered lips of maidens. They were surrounded by wisps of raven-colored hair. He smiled. His hands found their way to her waist.
Her eyes widened, the colors that lay before her reflected on them with ease. Kyohei marveled at how dazzling she could be without even trying. Or knowing.
At last, the baggy confinements of her legs were slipped off of her. Thin stems of pale ivory greeted his vision, the space that connected the stems covered with the same black fabric as that on her chest.
He licked his lips with eager anticipation, the way a wolf would once it spotted the lamb that was soon to be its meal.
A kiss was showered upon her lips.
Oh no, not the kiss! Please, not the kiss! For it would hold all temptations for her to succumb to her desire.
Sunako was twisting violently from one side to the other, her nails digging into the soft sheets at her sides as if it would grant her freedom.
Her body was coloring into a subtle shade of pink. Never had she felt so much shame as she did now. The cup of desire was filled up to the brim and sooner or later, it would overflow. And then she wouldn't be able to take this anymore; this maddening, unwavering enticement for him to take her into unimaginable heights of carnal satisfaction.
The nipples of her breasts hardened and they looked like pebbles already as she pressed her body against his. She need not say her pleas for her whole manner screamed it out as coherently as could be. He bit at her buds with his teeth playfully, lightly. He licked them, kissed them, and adored them as a fairy would upon a rose. He felt her nether lips, and as she struggled, and cried, and moaned beneath him, she felt her legs wrap themselves about his hips and strain against him. She arched her back.
Kyohei smiled with satisfaction.
She was exquisite, this doll crying out his name for her want: as beautiful as the sunset as it leaks wine on a sea of emerald glass and as desirable as nectar to a bee. Her breasts were suffused with red.
And then he entered her.
Kyohei's thrusts were brutal, strong. He was overcome with denied passion for so long, he couldn't stop himself. And as he felt her secret lips moisten while she clenched about his length, he watched with intense pleasure her body shuddering fervently.
Her moans were muffled as he bent down to kiss her. "There's more," he whispered.
And then he rose again, tightening his grip on her ankles. He drove in, jabbing her, working her. At last she cried out her release, relief flooding her senses as he came with a final, strong motion. Warm fluids filled her as she raked her hair back. Her hands were trembling. He lay at her side, gasping.
The virginal blood of her sex stained his sheets. It looked like strawberries drowned in cream.
And once again, he ached for her.
The End? Not quite.
After Note: (Edited) There's a sequel for this entitled 'The Aftertaste of Strawberries and Lovemaking'.
I haven't gotten the chance to thank everyone for reviewing, and I sincerely apologize for that. Thank you for the effort that every reviewer has given to comment on this fic.