PASSION-SDA
CHELSEA WELSH
Summary: I Don't Remember Getting Here. All I Know Is That Your With Me. ...I Will Never Fall In Love...
His breath was hot, scalding my lips as I tried to keep my sanity. My hands groped, lost, searching for a map of any kind. Magnetically attatched to the bronzed skin before me. Our lips connected erratically, quick nips of teeth and touching tongue. Passion swelled inside my chest, overriding the fear that had been there mere moments before.
"Kurama..."
His voice, breathless, unbelievably sexy, reached my ears and my fingers artistically undid buttons, opened zippers, exposing the young body. His own unexperienced hands tangled into my tail, stroking my back, leaving delicate trails of fire. My legs over his hips, his own body flat against a too-old matress that groaned with pressure. I wasn't sure whether to be turned on or displeased by the low class location we were currently about to have sex in.
Yes...have sex. Not make love. Because in this moment, there was no emotion in him. We were just two beasts seeking to sooth an ever-growing need...ironically, the only one with a beating heart was the one who had no attatchment.
I didn't know if I was a human or demon at that moment. My hair, white paint upon his chest, shimmered in the dimmed lighting above us, the fixture tilted to the left. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at the stain that revealed a broken pipe within a wall.
Rough hands grasped my hips, rotating them as he was pushed into me. "Yusuke!" I groaned his name, my eyes rolling briefly as he, in one moment, hit that horribly vulnerable spot inside of me. The tips of my claws vanished into his chest; I bit his neck, wanting to taste his blood.
Feet flat on the bed, knees bent, he angled his hips perfectly, hitting the spot mercilessly. I moved my upper body forward, my forhead on his chest, hearing his heart thudding horribly loud. I cried out as he hit it over and over, hot liquid coating my insides moments later.
He panted.
I cried...
I woke up to the sun striking me in the face. I stretched my arm out, not expecting any warmth.
I didn't recieve any.
I stared at the empty space, running my fingers through my hair and taking in his scent of cheap cologne. The kind a too-young teenager wears; the kind with a little boat on the lable.
He really was a child. I suddenly felt strangely amused at the aspect of being thought of as a pedophile. Wrapping my black silk robe around my body, I stared at the wall, feeling lonely. Feeling numb. I felt foreign; a soul without a descent body. My hand robotically wiped dried tears from my face.
I remembered Yusuke's face. He was probably in Keiko's arms at that very moment, kissing her and leading her into bed where they would make love and whisper sweet words of devotion. They would awake in eachothers embrace, kiss, perhaps give it another go.
Disgusting. I would never fall in love.
I sat there, listening to the cars passing on the bridge that was too close to this place. I felt empty, alone...but sexually satisfied. I turned the picture over, not wanting the eyes of my teammates staring at me so accusingly.
Don't hoard the past. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge
I went into my kitchen to make a hard martini...
END.
Inspired by Sex and the City, as well as my own emotions. The second to last line is by Ingrid in Janet Fitch's "White Oleander." My favourite book next to "Misery" by Stephen King. GOD I love King! Well, I hope you enjoyed my fic I love it, personally.