A little idea that popped into my head this morning. I had heard this song, and I wanted to use it in a story.
Song: I Can Still Feel You.
Artist: Collin Raye.
Enjoy.
I Can Still Feel You.
When he opened his optics, exposing their blood-hued flare, he saw nothing, but darkness. Not utter, total gloom, but enough to somewhat complicate the general shapes of the contents of his room. But, that wasn't of any major importance. Starscream knew his room well. What he didn't know: Why did he awake from recharge so unexpectedly? Scanning, he could detect nothing. Yet, clearly, something compelled him from his slumber.
What was it?
It's that feeling that someone is standing behind me.
And I turn around and there's no one there.
And it's the sensation that someone just whispered.
And I still hear your voice, but you're not really here.
His optics turned down for aimless reasons, and it was then when he fixed his gaze on her. Blackarachnia - asleep soundlessly in an embrace of his arms, her helm propped atop his shoulder panel, angled so gently. His gaze fixated on her, looking over the serenity splayed tenderly her features, the quietude only a peaceful slumber could deliver her.
How had she gotten to him?
Your memory is like a ghost,
and my heart is its host.
"Blackarachnia?" he called her name softly, leaning his faceplate closer to hers.
She spoke no reply, instead lifting her lids to reveal all four of her scarlet optics to him. Each upturned at his in a sort of enticing manner, and her dark tinted lips mimicked the gesture, curving to a smile. Starscream awaited her lips to part and words to come forth, but hearing none, he leaned back, baffled.
He tried again. "…How did you get here?"
Nothing, but that invariable smile.
Your memory is like a ghost,
and my heart is its host.
Could she hear him, or was she smiling at the sight of his mouth moving? No, her optics had been closed. They opened at the sound of his voice. Yes, she heard him…
Why did she not respond?
I can still feel you just as close as skin,
Every now and then.
All by myself, in a crowded room, or my empty bed.
There's a place you've touched,
With your love no one gets close to.
I can still feel you, I can still feel you,
I can still feel you, I can still feel you.
Blackarachnia stirred in his embrace, twisting her body into the perfect curve, setting her slender servos against his shoulders, grasping. It was instinct to situate his hand against the back of her helm, pulling her faceplate close before his own. She angled her head in his hand and closed her optics, parting her lips. He leaned forward to accept her hushed request, waiting for their mouths to meet.
There's a place you've touched,
With your love no one gets close to.
I can still feel you, I can still feel you,
I can still feel you, I can still feel you.
The kiss was born. It was light, sweet…tender at the start. In mere astroseconds, it fluctuated, fluxed into something with a flare of passion, something that compelled their mouths to press deeper against one another's.
Slipping an arm gingerly around her waistline, he eased her form against his front, pressed her into him gently. Her arms constricted around his neck, forcing her mouth to push further into their lock. Starscream couldn't help, but let out a small moan of pleasure. He expected her to do the same, but she uttered nothing. It was not like her.
He pulled away to gaze into her optics.
"Blackarachnia?" he whispered at her. "Speak to me."
Again, she said nothing.
Was she nothing, but a hallucination? A fantasy?
A memory?
You said you'd love me forever,
Then you said it's over,
And left me without the missing link.
I thought I'd forget you,
But I guess I forgot to.
Angered in perplexity, his arms squeezed the femme's frame as if there would be no tomorrow, as if she would never be able to be held in his arms ever again. Leaning away, his face eased close to hers for another kiss. Their lips met, but the lock did not last.
He could not sense her, he could not feel her.
He was kissing nothing but atmosphere, dust, and nonexistence.
His servo no longer lay against the back of her helm.
It was as if she evaporated into thin air.
Simply vanished.
Your memory is like a ghost,
and my heart is its host.
When he opened his optics, exposing their blood-hued flare, he saw nothing, but darkness. Not utter, total gloom, but enough to somewhat complicate the general shapes of the contents of his room…
There was no femme.
No Blackarachnia.
It's that feeling that someone is standing behind me.
And I turn around and there's no one there.
And it's the sensation that someone just whispered.
And I still hear your voice, but you're not really here.
Nothing, but darkness.
Oh, I can still feel you.
Review, please.