Title:
Happy Birthday
Author/Artist:
missbowtruckle
Rating:
Mature, for sure.
Warning(s): References to incest,
wanking, character death.
Disclaimer: They're beautiful and
all, but not mine. I get nothing but enjoyment here...
A/N:
Thanks to
ravennactan
for the spot-beta! loves
Summary/Excerpt: It's April
first. Another birthday...
April first. A day of fools.
I head to the place I last saw him. I know he'll be there. I spread the blanket on the grass and open a white box. Cupcakes. One for him, one for me, to celebrate our birthday.
I look up and suddenly he's with me. Every line of his face as familiar as my own, every freckle a copy of us. I smile. He smiles. The dimple quivers in his left cheek, a perfect complement to my own. God, he's beautiful.
I busy myself with the cupcakes, the candles, the small talk. Everytime I look at him, his brown eyes meet mine and we share another smile. "It's been a while," I say, looking out over the field. The smooth grassy expanse is marred only by the occasional stone, scattered like a child's playthings in the garden.
I turn to him and see my loneliness reflected in his eyes. Then a spark. Mischief. Longing. Desire. It echoes my own thoughts, and I can't help myself.
Neither can he.
Our clothes can't come off fast enough, and before I realize it, we're on our knees. I watch his hand on his cock and can easily imagine it's mine. The same smooth pale hands, dusted with the same freckles. Looking down at my hand, it's easy to believe it's his.
I remember when we used to really touch each other. Kiss each other. Fuck each other. I close my eyes for a moment and remember the feeling of him moving inside me. How sweet it felt to be inside him. My hand is suddenly slick, my cock spurting pearly and hot, and I whisper his name. His lips move silently, his eyes show a single ring of brown around large dark pupils. So fucking beautiful...
I lean my face toward his, craving the scent of him. The feel of him. I close my eyes and kiss his cheek, licking my own come from his cool, smooth skin. Our eyes meet briefly. I dress silently, then turn away to begin taking up the picnic. My cupcake, uneaten, I scatter for the birds. I fold the blanket in silence, then turn my gaze to him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment nothing has changed.
I place his cupcake carefully on the stone, then trace my fingers over the letters there. A tear spills down my cheek, and when I look at him, I see the same. My fingers tremble as I look into his eyes one more time, then slide the mirror into my bag.
"Happy Birthday..."