My debut story on the FFNet. I'm super stoked to put this one up. It was the absolute weirdest plot bunny. It wouldn't go away (and when I mean "wouldn't go away", I mean for, like, a year).
So I wrote it. Go fig?
Warning: This is not a lemon, but the story does describe sexual behaviour and addresses the actual act of sex (but does not describe it in any lewd sense). If you are uncomfortable reading something like this, please do not continue.
Much love,
MissIdeophobia
A Danny Phantom Story
In the Dark of the Night
"It's late."
Her eyes wandered the room for only a second. Alone. She was alone. Sighing a sigh that was something like relief and disappointment mixed, she lay back down and pulled up the bed's covers.
Moonlight filtered through the cracks in the boarded window, casting strange shadows over the floor and walls. There was no sound in this place save for soft breathing that seemed to cut through the air like a rhythmic lullaby. She lay in the bed, resting quietly in the dark of the night.
Feet hit the floor, followed by the sound of a rustling cloak. The woman sat up, squinting into the darkness. She didn't have to squint for long. The glow of his eyes and body cast a strange light upon the room, illuminating her skin with a soft radiance of colour. White. Red. Both shades danced across her dark skin in a way that was beautiful and mesmerizing. It drew him in like a siren's song.
But he would not take a step. Not yet.
They waited opposite one another, one standing and one sitting, but both tense like fighters ready for battle. She made the first move. She beckoned him forward, lips curling into a smile that appeared almost wry.
"You came," she said, pleased.
He chuckled, his deep voice reverberating through the room. It sent chills down her spine. Sharp canines flashed in the shadows.
"Don't I always?"
No more words were needed. He ghosted across the room and to the bed, pulling her towards him with the strangest mixture of gentleness and force. Cold lips grazed the hollow of her throat, teeth glancing off of her collarbone.
She fisted her hands in the fabric of his front, digging her nails into his flesh. He pushed her onto her back, capturing her lips with his. He pulled away only once, both of them staring into the other's eyes like hunters gauging their prey. Then, after only a moment, his lips crashed down on hers with a passion that could only be described as a hunger.
Their lovemaking was not sweet. It was neither soft nor gentle. They were like forces of nature locked in a battle for dominance, expressing passion through a devilish dance. It wasn't infatuation; it was more like an addiction, a gnawing need that pulled them together time and time again.
Every night she would be there, not waiting so much as being. They did not depend on one another. That was not the nature of this thing they shared. She would not be disappointed if he did not come.
He would not come every night. Some nights, she would lay there alone, restful and content. Others, he would meet her there, and they would begin their strange duet. He would come alone, a wraith in the shadows, and they would fall together. It was a battle of tangled limbs and heavy breaths that was a taboo like no other.
She feared discovery - for if someone learned of this terrible thing that she did, her life would never be the same. Every day she felt guilty, plagued by the knowledge that she had engaged in something so wrong. She hated it.
He did not fear, but he was cautious - she knew him at his most vulnerable. She was a huntress gifted with the chance to see him exposed in ways that no one else would see. She alone knew this vulnerability. He hated it.
Though he hated it, he was incapable of giving up the drug that was their kissing, their touching, their sex. He knew nothing more pleasing, save for the screams of destruction he would entertain himself with in a few hours' time.
When the sun rose, she would wake up alone. She knew this, had come to accept this, and expected this. When the sun rose, they no longer walked the line of dangerous passion. When the sun rose, they were the bitterest of enemies, hardened foes that would never stop until the other took their last breath.
They would fight hard. They would seek their enemy's destruction. They would cause whatever pain they could.
Then, when the moon appeared in the darkening skies, they would find each other in a different way. The first time had been a fluke - an accident brought by the strangest kind of curiosity. It should have ended there, but it didn't. It happened again. Then again. Then again.
Perhaps it was by a strange twist of fate that they had come to this. Perhaps this was an echo of the past, a yearning for the what once was. Neither knew and neither cared. They would take each moment of darkness as it came and plan vengeance in the light. It was a tug-of-war between two immovable mountains of power.
She knew the boy that this man had once been. She had learned the story long after their secret meetings began. He had told her once, just to see how much it would hurt her to know.
It had hurt her very much, but had only served to ignite the black passion that had grown between them. Now she had a weapon, a name to call out that would only infuriate him. He would demand that she not use that name - it was a past identity. She would never listen to those demands. Whether whispered or screamed, she would always use it. And he, though he loathed it, would always respond with passion.
Valerie Grey had a secret darker than a shadow. Phantom had a secret more human than he cared to admit. She hated it - hated him. He hated her. Their feelings were mutual, but it was that hatred that had sparked a most dangerous kind of experimentation.
So they would always meet, never in the same place, and would come together, enemies that made for the most passionate of lovers.
And no one would ever know...
...because their secret was hidden...
...forever and always...
...deep in the dark of the night.
And they would take that secret to the grave.
Fin