Masamune
A/N: Twisted. Some innuendos. Some references to ZackXSephiroth. You might want to read this once through, read the notes at the bottom, then read it again.
~start~
The moment you laid eyes on me, I felt a thrill. You may not recall our first meeting; you were only five then. But I remember. I remember your piercing green eyes, the eyes of an adult in the face of an angelic child, staring right at me. Desire flared in them, though you understood not the feeling then. And I knew: I would save myself for you. No man would lay his hand on me until you have had your fill.
I am patient; it is a skill you learn when you are blessed or cursed with a long life. It took seven years but you were finally back. No longer the frail little child, you burst into the room with measured arrogance, light streaming about your silver hair casting a halo about you. I remember the very moment you touched me, touched me with hands that still knew not toil, and I knew it was the right choice to wait.
You wanted me as much as I wanted you, disregarding the whispers of a mysterious curse that had caused the deaths of many before you. Half in curiosity, your hands ran down my entire length and back up again before announcing a decision you had made seven years ago. Then, I was yours to have and to hold for better or for worse.
If you ask me when I loved you most, I would be hard pressed to reply. One of the days would, naturally, be the day you first allowed me to thrust into hot, wet flesh and take what I desired. There was rapture in your mako eyes, utter rapture, which only served to further excite me. When that deed was done, you put my comfort before your own and took your time running the cloth gently down my length and back up again. I loved you much then but it is so hard to pinpoint 'most'.
When you came of age and began to dream those dreams, I watched you spring awake in the dead of the night, cursing eloquently, frightened. Then you, my sweet, ever precocious child, took matters into your own hands. [1] It was not long before you found pleasure in my sheath. [2]
We were so happy together until you turned nineteen and that man showed up. He was really not much more than a boy then, but he stole you away from me, eventually. I can never forgive him for defiling the temple of your body and how I yearned to take his life. How could you have let him run his fingers through your hair when even I, I who had been your companion for seven years and more, had never felt it silvery caress?
In the end, he betrayed you, moonlit angel, for a sunnier face. How I rejoiced in pain, torn between the joy of being in your favour again and the sadness I felt every time I saw the crystalline drops adorning your ivory cheeks. Soon enough, I tasted his blood and relished it, as did you.
Then I was passed on to your shadow, for you were entrapped in crystal that even I could not break. Still it was your heart, your mind, and I loved it as I loved you. Until the day the sun decided to swallow up the moon.
I followed you to your death. I should feel sad now but for the fact that where you were once master, you are now my slave. [3] Finally, I can run my fingers through spun moonlight and appreciate the softness. Finally, I can stroke your pale face; stroke away the crystal tears, feeling the smoothness of ivory. Finally, I can claim your lips for my own. Angel, you are now mine.
It takes weeks for your body to start to rot, weeks enough to express my love to you, to consummate our mutual lust. Your eyes go first, brilliant green dulled. Then your flesh, until I am left with strands of silver remaining in my hands when I run my fingers through your hair. I am forced to bury you, to return you to Mother Earth, dust to dust. Now, I lay myself beside your grave. May I be your marker, your memorial, sweet angel, forever.
~+~
When they visited the North Crater months after the last confrontation, they found a grave marked by the Masamune. The sword had been impaled so deeply in the earth that it was impossible to remove. Who would erect a grave for a madman? No one knew. Only the sword bore witness to the happenings there and it would never tell.
~end~
A/N: Ok, explanation time. The narrator, if you had not already guessed, is Masamune, Sephiroth's sword. Which makes this Masamune x Sephiroth. Which, as previously stated, is twisted.
[1] This is a pun. Go figure what he was doing.
[2] Uh... it's a long, slightly rounded piece of wood. Once more, go figure. (If you get this, you're probably as twisted as I am.)
[3] Finally, the actual, most important bit of explanation. Those who know of the manga Angel Sanctaury would be reminded of the Nanatsusaya. Those who don't, let's just say that Masamune has a 'soul' that is capable of possessing a corpse. Let's also say that whatever corpse he possessed was conveniently disposed of before the grave was found.
Ehehe... comments?
A/N: Twisted. Some innuendos. Some references to ZackXSephiroth. You might want to read this once through, read the notes at the bottom, then read it again.
~start~
The moment you laid eyes on me, I felt a thrill. You may not recall our first meeting; you were only five then. But I remember. I remember your piercing green eyes, the eyes of an adult in the face of an angelic child, staring right at me. Desire flared in them, though you understood not the feeling then. And I knew: I would save myself for you. No man would lay his hand on me until you have had your fill.
I am patient; it is a skill you learn when you are blessed or cursed with a long life. It took seven years but you were finally back. No longer the frail little child, you burst into the room with measured arrogance, light streaming about your silver hair casting a halo about you. I remember the very moment you touched me, touched me with hands that still knew not toil, and I knew it was the right choice to wait.
You wanted me as much as I wanted you, disregarding the whispers of a mysterious curse that had caused the deaths of many before you. Half in curiosity, your hands ran down my entire length and back up again before announcing a decision you had made seven years ago. Then, I was yours to have and to hold for better or for worse.
If you ask me when I loved you most, I would be hard pressed to reply. One of the days would, naturally, be the day you first allowed me to thrust into hot, wet flesh and take what I desired. There was rapture in your mako eyes, utter rapture, which only served to further excite me. When that deed was done, you put my comfort before your own and took your time running the cloth gently down my length and back up again. I loved you much then but it is so hard to pinpoint 'most'.
When you came of age and began to dream those dreams, I watched you spring awake in the dead of the night, cursing eloquently, frightened. Then you, my sweet, ever precocious child, took matters into your own hands. [1] It was not long before you found pleasure in my sheath. [2]
We were so happy together until you turned nineteen and that man showed up. He was really not much more than a boy then, but he stole you away from me, eventually. I can never forgive him for defiling the temple of your body and how I yearned to take his life. How could you have let him run his fingers through your hair when even I, I who had been your companion for seven years and more, had never felt it silvery caress?
In the end, he betrayed you, moonlit angel, for a sunnier face. How I rejoiced in pain, torn between the joy of being in your favour again and the sadness I felt every time I saw the crystalline drops adorning your ivory cheeks. Soon enough, I tasted his blood and relished it, as did you.
Then I was passed on to your shadow, for you were entrapped in crystal that even I could not break. Still it was your heart, your mind, and I loved it as I loved you. Until the day the sun decided to swallow up the moon.
I followed you to your death. I should feel sad now but for the fact that where you were once master, you are now my slave. [3] Finally, I can run my fingers through spun moonlight and appreciate the softness. Finally, I can stroke your pale face; stroke away the crystal tears, feeling the smoothness of ivory. Finally, I can claim your lips for my own. Angel, you are now mine.
It takes weeks for your body to start to rot, weeks enough to express my love to you, to consummate our mutual lust. Your eyes go first, brilliant green dulled. Then your flesh, until I am left with strands of silver remaining in my hands when I run my fingers through your hair. I am forced to bury you, to return you to Mother Earth, dust to dust. Now, I lay myself beside your grave. May I be your marker, your memorial, sweet angel, forever.
~+~
When they visited the North Crater months after the last confrontation, they found a grave marked by the Masamune. The sword had been impaled so deeply in the earth that it was impossible to remove. Who would erect a grave for a madman? No one knew. Only the sword bore witness to the happenings there and it would never tell.
~end~
A/N: Ok, explanation time. The narrator, if you had not already guessed, is Masamune, Sephiroth's sword. Which makes this Masamune x Sephiroth. Which, as previously stated, is twisted.
[1] This is a pun. Go figure what he was doing.
[2] Uh... it's a long, slightly rounded piece of wood. Once more, go figure. (If you get this, you're probably as twisted as I am.)
[3] Finally, the actual, most important bit of explanation. Those who know of the manga Angel Sanctaury would be reminded of the Nanatsusaya. Those who don't, let's just say that Masamune has a 'soul' that is capable of possessing a corpse. Let's also say that whatever corpse he possessed was conveniently disposed of before the grave was found.
Ehehe... comments?