A/N: Forgive the difficult time-frame setting, I only recently finished the series, while having written this about a year or two ago, after seeing only the first volume. I'm a bit too fond of it here to trash it all together, though. I noticed there was a lack of this pairing, HattiexRyu, I mean...Not sure if this is canon, or what, considering the ambiguous opportunities the ending left open for their relationship...I have my hope, though~ (Don't get me wrong, I'm very pro TakutoxMaki, as well.) ~~ Anywaaaay, I hope you find this as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write.
Disclaimer: I own nothing in relation to Argento Soma, nor do I gain anything, aside from a feeling of accomplishment, from writing this. Enjoy~
Were it not for she, the fainting drop of Takuto Kaneshiro would have long since evaporated off of existence…but that naïve face remained a constant reminder, gnawing at him with every glance in her direction. It was every opposing quality she possessed that forced him to question his very being…
So why, in the levity of darkened hours, does she welcome herself into his room, that ridiculous red dress, toppling to the floor, with tears brimming emerald eyes; that Wonderland top hat plummeting, long forgotten, as she crawls atop his frame whispering sorrows? Why does she curl into the embrace of his warmth?
More so, why does he indulge her? He utters nothing, his gaze empty as she crushes her wooden pendant into his chest; her head sobbing whispers into his scar-laden shoulder. Her sunlight braids pool at his sides as he strokes the spine of her innocent under-frock. Her quivering lips move to his ear, begging, wordlessly, that he take retribution.
As is every night, his declination is hesitant, but eventual, for he sees the wings of untouched purity smoldering her delicate frame; even as she presses further with dissented touching. Her waning cries stumble into whimpers as she makes fruitless attempts at eliciting a sensuous reaction. Fragile hands roam beneath the belt; all the while he remains steadfast in his stone etching, neither urging nor restraining.
He finds pleasure only in her degrading tears; tears that she shields from all but he. Beyond the summit of her weeping, he feels immorality heaving at him with her lightly suggested sins, as he bites back the moans, saving them for a distant day.
Lost in his thoughts, he never realizes how he falls from his upright posture onto his back, as nibbles are trailed lightly down his collar.
Somewhere, as she lay sprawled amongst his flesh, her frock would float away in a vain last effort for a rise; though never, during her ministrations, would she ever take notice of the discipline hidden behind his shuttered eyes.
When the holed pendant lays nestled between mounded flesh that presses, almost ostentatiously, onto his hardened chest, incinerating warmth splays throughout an always suddenly crisp room.
When exhaustion consumes her, she lays, unmoving against him, as he runs his fingers up and down the column of her back; until the shuddering of untended flesh finds them both under covers and into the arms of Morpheus.
By morning, she is long since gone, as is any trace of her presence; yet, lingering upon his self are the cleverly renewed bruises upon his collar, and the ache lurching in his loins. Though with every awakening, he begins with a harsh thought in her direction…
How dare she slink into his bed; offering herself for the mercy of her dear 'Mr. Elf'. In a distant night, when he finds that the wings have been ripped from her, when she no longer inquires of 'Fairyland', she will come…and he will take her without hesitation, though never shall it be for the reprisal she seeks to gain on its behalf…
A/N: I'm not quite sure, but there's something uneasy about the last paragraph that just doesn't seem to quite fit in with the rest of the story...What do you think: should I leave it in or take it out? I would be most grateful if you were to R&R~ ^w^
~ Love, Mieo