Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu.
This is a story about Rue & Fakir.....And about Love & Hate.....Lolz
Italics is a story being told or, in this chapter.....the present/future
Non Italics are 'reality', or the past reality
Give this couple a chance.
Release yourselves from the humdumdrumstickness of DuckXFakir pairings,.
Hate & Love keep close company, Hate & Lust keep even closer company....;}
Moonlight fell through the open windows, shedding light on the two entangled bodies in bed.
Someone stirred, and bleary, green eyes slowly opened. Fakir glanced around the dark room with drowsy
eyes; it was dark, the pale moonlight illuminating only the creamy alabaster skin of the girl lying
beside him. He swept a rough bronzed hand over her cheek, marveling at the coldness.
Rue was always cold,
always.
He sat up, careful to not disturb the still sleeping girl.
Brushing a dark curl from her forehead, Fakir lay contemplating his lover..
She was pretty, really.
What with her pale skin, flawless complexion, & piercing eyes...She was a beauty, she was.
A cold beauty, cold even at the height of passion.
Even when she sighed & moaned his name, driving him on into higher mounts of passion & excitement,
Even as she lay there panting, glistening with sweat, running her delicate hands all over his lean, golden body, stroking & fondling.... oh
He pulled her sleeping body into his, His sudden excitement ebbing, sighing quietly when her arms unconsciously wrapped themselves around him.
She was cold, even when she reached for him, & kissed him, & uttered sweet nothings into his ear.
She hated him.
And he could not say he did not hate her as well
He had to take a shower, he had to get up
But, he was afraid.
Afraid of what may not be here when he returned.
Fakir got up anyway, quietly, & the girl did not stir.
He crept toward the bathroom, closing the door shut gently.
The water was turned on, so hot that the windows and gilt-edged mirror fogged up quickly.
He stepped in, let the scorching water run over his tired body.
It didn't matter that the water burned.
It felt good to burn, at least for a little while.
And while Fakir stood, burning...
The white bedroom door shut quietly, very quietly