Rated M

The Only Time

i'm drunk.

and right now i'm so in love with you.

and i don't want to think too much about what we should or shouldn't do.

lay my hands on Heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars.

while the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car.

nothing quite like the feel of something new.

maybe i'm all messed up in you.

this is the only time i really feel alive.

--

She passed him the jug of saki, her eyes glassy; her movements sluggish. He refused it, setting it on the floor beside them. They lay in her room, the shaggy green carpet soft against his bareback.

He was drunk, she was drunk. She did not even bother to remember what had made them begin drinking together in the first place. All she knew was that she had had the jug of saki, and she had offered it to him. He had accepted, and there they were.

"Neliel…I'm so fucking drunk…" he muttered, rubbing his head.

"Me too, Nnoi…Nnoitora…" she returned, rolling onto her stomach, almost unable to pronounce his name.

"Fuck…" he sighed, smiling rather contentedly.

"Nnoitora…" her voice was low, seductive, yearning. He could see what she wanted. Even if he was drunk, and she was drunk, he could still satisfy her, and himself as well. He wanted to.

"Yer…drunk…Neliel…" he mumbled incoherently as she fumbled with her clothing, removing it. It would be the only time that that would not stop him. She, for that night, for the time she was drunk, was his.

"I…know…" she returned, her eyes wide, as though in awe at the fact. She almost found herself in disbelief at what she had done, what he had done, and what they were about to do.

It was something new. There was nothing like it, there would be nothing like it.

"Nnoitora…" she whispered, her hands fisting in his hair and pulling his head to hers. She kissed him, passionately, the drink in her speaking to her actions, and making her his, and his alone. For just one night, the only time she would ever be submissive. The only time he would have control.

He was so in love with her, at that moment. She was the sun, the moon, and the stars. She was everything, and she was his.

He pressed her against the floor, rolling her over so that he was on top, and it was her bare back pressing into the shaggy carpet. She did not protest, but pressed against him, her arms wrapped tightly about him.

"Oh…Nnoitora…" she whispered, her eyes half closed, the golden depths limpid in her desire for him. His hands ran down her sides, raising her desire, raising her heartbeat, raising her temperature, and raising his own desire.

"Neliel, I'm gonna fuck you." He mumbled, grinning sloppily. She whimpered softly as his fingers slipped inside of her, her hips bucking upwards involuntarily. She wanted him to fuck her. He could tell by her wetness, by her legs falling apart, wide open, just for him. Only for him.

Luckily, he wasn't drunk enough to feel numb. He could feel everything, as could she. It was a question of whether they would remember it later.

Her hands reached desperately for his hard length, but she could not seem to find it. She pouted, and he sighed softly, kissing those pursed lips. Those beautiful, full, pursed lips. Her entire body, he loved. And he would love it all the best he could.

In one easy thrust, he was within her, thrusting hard. She moaned beneath him, one hand falling to the floor to fist in the green carpet. Her other hand entwined in glossy, black locks. He panted as he increased his pace, and she frowned, her mouth wide open as she gasped.

"Oh…Nnoitora…" she moaned, and he continued his love rhythm. She felt herself growing closer and closer to orgasm, and her head fell back as she cried out sharply, then bit her lip to keep from repeating the cry.

His release was soon to follow, and then the slow fall into exhaustion. The alcohol did not help his energy, but he lasted long enough to savor the feeling of a submissive Neliel in his arms. If they could be intoxicated all of the time, he would be in heaven. Or, he would gauge his eye out with the monotony of a life like that.

For the moment, he had everything he needed.

He had a drunken, sleeping Neliel Tu Oderschvank in his arms.

He could have sworn that he had found all that he needed in the form of a boozed up Neliel. It would never last. This would be the only time. The only time he would not feel that blood lust toward her. The only time that he would love her. The only time that he would admit to that love.

"This…is th'on'y time…I love ya, Nel-yel."

--

i swear.

i just found everything i need.

the sweat in your eyes the blood in your veins are listening to me.

well i want to wrap it up and swim in it until i drown.

my moral standing is lying down