Roxas/Sora
Cross-stitching
As high as possible
Home at last! It had been so long since I'd had a moment to enjoy myself. I flopped on the sofa, unbuttoning my trousers.
Nudge, nudge.
Speaking of enjoying myself…
I felt my soul wretch briefly, hands that weren't supposed to be there edging up my sides. I gasped slightly, feather light touches moving up my spine, the feeling of chapped lips on my neck halting my breathing momentarily. I saw, no felt, my alter ego.
As his fingers outlined my abdomen, it felt as though I was doing this to myself. He was there, and yet still attached to me, part of me, in my heart. It hurt for him to be touching me, extending our energy, the cross stitching connecting our souls stretching, straining to comply with his actions. It was like he was trying to rip us apart. Not that that would be hard to handle.
"Your libido is insatiable." He smiled against my neck, fingers gliding down the curve of my ass, tracing the butterfly shape of my pelvis, rubbing up and down my thighs, lingering where tension had built up the most.
His actions left me fuzzy headed, my moans resounding thorough my empty apartment, hands branding me in a way that I couldn't wash off, the heat my body was experiencing spreading to my face, flushing as his skilled hands worked me into a frenzy, my actions nullified when I tried to respond. It was his show. And then as I moaned out his name, he vanished back inside my heart, his efforts leaving me exhausted from using the energy to support both of us. He uttered no goodbye, no comfort, not a single sweet nothing in my ear.
But even as my 'seams' were no longer bursting, I found myself thinking about what that could have possibly meant, so very much alone again.