A/N: I had a passing thought, only it didn't pass, it stopped. This is just a quick lil ficlet. I'm not usually one for short pieces like this but it kinda forced it's way out regardless of my feelings on the subject. It's a tad dark in tone but hey, I'm clearly in a dark kinda mood today.
Arthur wants. He wants so badly that he aches. Every time it gets worse. Each day the want grows. It has teeth and claws and latches on harder, hooks in deeper with every moment that he sees. He knows he shouldn't. He knows the want is his alone. However, he can't shut his eyes and so he sees and he wants and now he needs. What does a man covet most? That which he sees every day. He wants what he sees and sees that his want does not want him.
Cobalt eyes don't see cerulean. Long slender fingers don't want sturdy, sword callused hands. Cool alabaster skin doesn't shiver for flesh softly sun-burnished. Thoughts beneath the ebony cap do not yearn for the secrets held under the thatch of gold. And still, he wants. Passion denied burns no less fiercely. Does not wood still not flame for the heat by which it is consumed? Does meat not feed the body that saw it destroyed? It matters not that his want is not returned. He continues to need.
And so like fire he consumes. Like the hunter, on flesh unwilling he feeds. His want and his need reach out with teeth and claws. He rends what he needs, he takes what he wants. And his ache only grows through the screams. His hunger devours the tears. He savors the violation. He no longer sees. Now he only feels. What he feels is his alone.
Cobalt eyes dull. Slim fingers snap. Alabaster skin cracks. Thoughts beneath ebon fringe flee. All is consumed. And still with teeth and claws, Arthur reaches impotently for that which he will never have. But he still wants.
I'm not sure how I feel about this piece so, do feel free to comment on this even if you absolutely hate it. Bluntness is encouraged today. And yes, I did rather abuse the italics but that actually was kinda the point...