Title: Puzzle Pieces
Word Count: 441
Rating: T for suggestive themes
Pairing: B26
Triggers: Mention of knives, death, and blood
Wise men say
His arms slipped around the lithe Guardian's waist, tugging him closer as the first notes of the song surrounded them. There was something unspeakably tender in his embrace, something that belied the risky infiltration mission they were on. The froggie had not donned his loose-fitting Varia blazer for once, which allowed the Storm to take in the soft skin of his bare shoulders, the gentle curve of his neck, the shapely bottom that was displayed so enticingly in the tight black dress he had reluctantly been forced into. A surge of something he didn't know swept over him, and as dying melodies were replaced with new ones, the prince idly noted that he would not mind doing this again.
only fools rush in
"Could they be any more dense?" Lussuria giggled good-naturedly, observing the antics of the two youngest Varia members.
As usual, the Mist's hat was studded full of knives as he halfheartedly protested the Storm's insistent need to use him for target practice. As usual, the Storm paid no heed to said protests. Lazily, he twirled a blade between his fingers before flinging it smack into the center of the ridiculous hat that earned Fran his nickname.
Froggie.
His froggie.
but I can't help
Belphegor wasn't kind. Not even to his lover, if they could be called that. The prince took joy in marking the Mist's skin with his teeth, his nails, his knives, anything that was his and brought that beautiful splash of red, that vivid contrast to pale skin that the prince could never get enough of. He traced Fran's veins with lethal precision, drawing a map of promises, pain, pleasure against sensitive nerve clusters. He wouldn't promise to stay with him forever or that they would live happily ever after, but the Mist didn't expect him to (in fact, he'd have his sanity annoyingly questioned for hours if he suddenly started spouting Shakespearean sonnets of love and devotion) and in a way that was both a how and why they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle: two wrong pieces that had been thrown together with nothing more than a chance to get along and they took it. They took it for every physical and verbal knife thrown at each other, the tender, near inaudible murmurs late at night, the flushed contact of their bodies after their lovemaking, everything said I love you and nothing said I love you. The world was theirs to conquer, theirs to explore and devour and destroy, but most of all theirs to share in all its cruel, ironic, messed up glory.
falling in love with you
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it~ Merry Christmas from your friend and Secret Santa!
Song: I Can't Help Falling in Love With You - Elvis Presley