Title: Pure shores lie ahead for the grim lovers blue.
Pairing: Kakashi/Iruka
Summary: Remember how it felt to be loved?
Disclaimer: Kishimoto owns Naruto and I can only dream that I owned his characters, his imagination and his drawing skills.
"Irrational".
I have a vague recollection of that word as I watch the blood slide effortlessly from his shining ANBU armour. It pools at his feet, and drips lazily in between his thin, curled toes. I would usually cringe at this, fretting about stains, marks and smudges but the frantic craving for the forbidden has taken over. I can only rely on my erratic heart when he is like this. His mind confused and freyed, his thoughts are beyond my comprehension. I wait.
I feel as though I have awoken in a muddled dream, pure insanity. Raw. He strips down, hissing and spitting at me through clenched demonic teeth. I catalogue new wounds to dwell on. He slips between the sheets after a freezing shower he has forced himself to endure. "A test" he has told me time and time again. When he can't feel the cold penetrate his thin skin, he will know his heart is truely blackened. His icey fingers grip my hips.
I loose myself in thought as I feel him relentlessly take advantage of me. A silent hum of lust masks my true utterances. Profound responsbility spun with guilt fills my head and binds me, it causes unwilling forgiveness. A fragile hope to save him and steal him away from this duty.
In the blinding sunny morning my determination to protect him (once thought lost), effortlessly comes surging back, like a tide inside me. He's not here, and I wont see him again until he arrives as silently as he leaves. A fractured chance of mine I have wasted.
I have destroyed our chances with a single, uncontrollable kiss. Too far gone to return, to sweet to ignore. To chaotic to ever retell in full. A night so foolish, yet savoured.
I wait, each night, incapable of digestion, or rest, perched on the window sill. Another night, desired yet idiotic looms over this hollow day. Brief, espcaping thoughts plague my mind with terror. Forgetting requires too much strength; I will always battle lust, faultering. But what is that haunts my dreams, and claims dictator over me?
Still unsure....remember how it felt to be loved?