Silk
-------------°-----------°----------------
Silk.
My bedcovers are made of silk. That smooth, cool material always calms me down.
Black silkcovers, that's what's the pride of my bedroom. Even though I will never admit it to anyone, I get happy if I get a compliment.
Once, someone told me that I look good in black. Although I don't remember who it was.
Fuck it.
Of course I remember who it was. The person that I'll always connect with the feeling of silk.
And I haven't known it for so long.
It was when I found myself in the shop that sell pillows and such, drawing my hands through the silkcovers, longing.
It was when I pictured red, fiery hair, red orbs and a beautiful face.
It was when I realised I'm in love. I don't know for how long, must've been for as long as I can remember.
I bought black silkcovers then.
I turn in my bed, wrapping my arms around a tanned, lean muscled body, inhaling deeply.
Vanilla musk and cigarettes.
Red gems open slowly, fogged with sleep.
''Sanzo-sama,'' he whisperes before nibbling at my lips. My hand automaticly slides up to entangle in a mass of fiery, red strands, smooth as silk.
Arms locks possessivly around me, wet heat sliding along my tounge.
Red silk, that's what's the pride of my bedroom.
------------°---------°-----------
Thanks for reading! R&R, please!