One Day
You're doing it again.
That implacable, impassive pose. Stoic and silent you stand like the stone you believe yourself to be.
That look of indifferent composure with your eyes glinting out of azure skin like two jewels and your
jaw closed shut.
I hope you know how much I ihate/i it.
I want to claw that expression off your imperturbable visage. I want to rip it off and shred it to pieces
as I watch you look on with horror. I never want it to touch your face again. I want you to scowl, to
smile, to laugh, to pout, to sneer, to grimace, just anything but that mask.
Why do you have that expression? It's most unattractive. Unlike the rest of you, which is more than handsome
enough.
Why does that irritate me? No, it's more than irritation; it's hate. I hate that façade. It deceives me at
every turn; I can't see anything in you when you have it on. Why do you think I try to provoke you? I'd
rather see anger than apathy. But there's something else I'd rather do than than piss you off.
Pleasure you. I want to see you gasp and shudder at every little thing that I do to your body. I want you
to groan and beg for more, pleading me with that velvet voice of yours. I want to hear you scream for me,
panting and whimpering as I take you and make you mine. But more than that...I want you to want me.
Why? By the unholy ass of Shabranigdo, you have no idea. It's ieverything/i. Those eyes, the hair, the body,
the sword...iespecially/i the body and the sword.
There's nothing that'd I like to do more now than throw you to the ground, rip your clothes off and start
screwing your brains out. But no, we have to be traveling with the too tempestuous sorceress, the too
stupid-for-words swordsman, and the too perky and overly justice-obsessed princess. I really want to dump
them in a lake, let them drown and go off with you to a nice little room in a nearby inn, indulge in some
very sinful fornication, then snuggle with you in front of a fireplace with some wine and repeat everything
over again. Ah...now that would be the perfect way to end this day.
But that's not going to happen. I like my partners willing.
Damn, now I'm getting maudlin. I should just go off on my own and find some compliant serving wench and
screw her instead. At least I'll get some warmth from her, even if it's only for my money.
And from you? Nothing at all. All I get is a cold, murderous glare that just screams, "I'm going to kill
you, you Mazoku bastard."
Thanks ever so much, I appreciate it.
But eventually, I will bend you to my will. I won't break you, but I will turn you to me. I'll make you
want me like I want you.
I will...one day.
You're doing it again.
That implacable, impassive pose. Stoic and silent you stand like the stone you believe yourself to be.
That look of indifferent composure with your eyes glinting out of azure skin like two jewels and your
jaw closed shut.
I hope you know how much I ihate/i it.
I want to claw that expression off your imperturbable visage. I want to rip it off and shred it to pieces
as I watch you look on with horror. I never want it to touch your face again. I want you to scowl, to
smile, to laugh, to pout, to sneer, to grimace, just anything but that mask.
Why do you have that expression? It's most unattractive. Unlike the rest of you, which is more than handsome
enough.
Why does that irritate me? No, it's more than irritation; it's hate. I hate that façade. It deceives me at
every turn; I can't see anything in you when you have it on. Why do you think I try to provoke you? I'd
rather see anger than apathy. But there's something else I'd rather do than than piss you off.
Pleasure you. I want to see you gasp and shudder at every little thing that I do to your body. I want you
to groan and beg for more, pleading me with that velvet voice of yours. I want to hear you scream for me,
panting and whimpering as I take you and make you mine. But more than that...I want you to want me.
Why? By the unholy ass of Shabranigdo, you have no idea. It's ieverything/i. Those eyes, the hair, the body,
the sword...iespecially/i the body and the sword.
There's nothing that'd I like to do more now than throw you to the ground, rip your clothes off and start
screwing your brains out. But no, we have to be traveling with the too tempestuous sorceress, the too
stupid-for-words swordsman, and the too perky and overly justice-obsessed princess. I really want to dump
them in a lake, let them drown and go off with you to a nice little room in a nearby inn, indulge in some
very sinful fornication, then snuggle with you in front of a fireplace with some wine and repeat everything
over again. Ah...now that would be the perfect way to end this day.
But that's not going to happen. I like my partners willing.
Damn, now I'm getting maudlin. I should just go off on my own and find some compliant serving wench and
screw her instead. At least I'll get some warmth from her, even if it's only for my money.
And from you? Nothing at all. All I get is a cold, murderous glare that just screams, "I'm going to kill
you, you Mazoku bastard."
Thanks ever so much, I appreciate it.
But eventually, I will bend you to my will. I won't break you, but I will turn you to me. I'll make you
want me like I want you.
I will...one day.