SWEDISHA/N: I have a hopefully successful project (hushhush) going on and getting the ideas running for that brings me to his piece right here. This is written for the Day by Day challenge by Sinistra Black over at HPFC! The task was to write something inspired by the four lines below before the time turns 00.00 the same day. (Today!).
Yes, believe me, you have to review this one to tell me if it was coherent at all.
With that I say enjoy!
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Wrong and Right Truths
By: Lumos Maximum
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Even if this world
Is filled With deceit and hatred
This slender body in front of my eyes
And the warmth it gives, to me is the truth
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His heart was chilly, or so it felt when the November air cooled his bedroom down to a degree that left Goosebumps all over his naked chest. To warm up his insides in the only way he knew he lit one up and drew slow puffs. The Malfoy name, imprinted in the small cigarette he smoked, made his insides squirm instead. Frowning he inhaled the bitter taste of the cigarette and delighted he watched his family name burn up to ashes.
He was still cold and in need for more.
Turning around and shifting restlessly in his bed was the most beautiful woman in a world of grays with her naked back facing him. The satin sheets with the thick thread count were hugging her hips perfectly and revealed the slender figure. He reached out one hand and let his fingers trail down her lower back and watched his hand melt into her pearly white skin. It was the back of her neck that fascinated him the most, he realized, as he watched that particular area being lit up by slowly burning candles. As he reached out to stroke her right where her neck ended and the otherwise thick, dark brown hair turned into small, soft strays he saw a scar on his lower arm being lit up by the same candles that allured him to that pure spot of her.
Quickly he drew his hand away from the light and lightened another cigarette up, trying to keep warm despite the feel of being dipped into cold water. It was a scar of shame reminding him of his loyalty to a facade that told the wrong kind of truths about pureness and might. He believed all of it, like he was told to do, and he became nothing more than a soldier in a war bigger than him. Knowing that he was a puppet designed to kill made him sick and having her turn around to face him, reminding him once again of the impossibilities that brought her into his bed made him wonder if he died in a war where he was doomed if he did not kill, only to enter heaven or some twisted limbo.
"You're sleepless again," she whispered in her sleep and filled out the silence. With a gentle hand she grabbed his arm to pull him down next to her and under the sheets. "Don't be."
He dropped the burned out cigarette down to the stone floor and wrapped his arms around her, feeling the intense warmth of her back against his chest. He felt her stroke the big scar on his arm and heard her murmur meaningless words about war and choices. Instead of replying he kissed her neck on that spot that he had admired earlier and she hushed in an instance to take in the feel of his lips. He could not help himself because behind the smooth tissue that hid something darker than him was a lot of nerves that were triggered by her touch and caused a wave of warmth spread throughout his body. He spun her around in the bed, now facing her smooth features and her sharp, brown eyes. It was kissing the small, pink lips that he desired but watching the deep, characterizing scar from her heroic battles in the corner of her lower lip made him feel unworthy.
"I don't care about what you were, we were all duty-bounded soldiers," she told him in a low murmur before she leaned up to meet his lips and for once he believed the right kind of truth.
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