Withering Into Oblivion
Rating: M (It's just a tad bit more graphic than the other)
Disclaimer: I don't own Square Enix, any of the KH series, or its characters.
A/N: A sequel to "Innocence In Bloom" I wrote a while ago. It's basically the aftermath of the whole "Marluxia rape-esque" situation that occurred between the two. Listened to "Let Go" by Frou Frou and voila. Instant drama. Please enjoy! R+R is appreciated (reviews help me to strengthen my writing and fix flaws you may notice. It also doesn't hurt to get an ego boost once in a while).
Numb, frightened, frigid.
Tears sliently drip down her rosy cheeks, and Namine grips the stained, white sheets closer to her shaking form. The tearing pain still throbs from her thighs, all into her abdomine. A burning jolt shoots up through her core, searing her nerves and she whimpers at the nostalgia. She remembers that hour of torment that in her mind, could've been mistaken for a lifetime. It wretches her gut and twists her spine; it refuses to let go.
Her body goes limp as his pace increases and all she can do is go with the flow, and hope for the best. Soon, she yet again, tingles from her toes to her head and cries in painful pleasure. He groans in a baritone octave, releasing himself and it's only then that her senses resume. Damp, warm, slick; it slips down her inner thigh, melting into the pure sheets. They have become tainted, just like her. But, it's as he is finished, she catches him murmur.
'Nami...ne...'
A sob bellows from her throat, and Namine tries to stiffle it by shoving her face into one of her many pillows. To her discontent, she fails miserably and tosses it across the bland marble. Nothing can save her now. She's all but whole, and it was Order XI that did it. He broke her spirit, her mind, and shredded what piece of diginity she pocessed (if any). The blonde is desperate to become whole, to feel 'loved', to have the attention she otherwise would have never obtained.
"W-Where are you going?"
Bright, crystal eyes widen in bafflement as Marluxia redresses himself throughly and runs his slender fingers through his pale hair. Turning ever-so slightly in her direction, he throws her a stare of apathy. For the first time (despite her efforts to stop him), Namine feels as if someone knows she exsists (even if he is indifferent). Not as a Nobody, or the brunette's crush, but as someone, something. Even if it is indeed for all the wrong reasons. Since he's leaving, the dormant pains of rejection,anger, and jealousy awaken, bending her. Sorrow drowns her until she subcumbs.
"I am needed elsewhere. Be a good witch, Namine."
...
She tosses and turns, blankets consuming her form in a restless thrashing. Her body aches, her thoughts swim, and tears trickle back down her swollen face. Confusion mocks her: 'You push him away, let him take you, cry about it, then, you wish for his return. What is it you fear, witch?' The nightmare she had envisioned was horrifying. A room void of light, sound, touch, or air. She suffocated amongst the darkness, screaming her lungs out. He, the one of all people she cherished most, faced her, his chocolate locks hiding his cobalt orbs. As she held out he hand, he did the same, but everytime Namine got close, he'd take back his hand; her salvation.
Marluxia gazed at the trembling girl in awe.
I don't know why I wrote this one, as a follow-up. Honestly, I've been into Guilty Gear, so. . . You know the drill, folks.