Dancing By The Pale Moonlight
A boy dances through an open field, surrounded by lush tall trees, waving and fluttering in the night breeze. He soars through the air, landing on his toes quite elegantly, but his giggles at his silliness cause him to wobble. His lengthy chestnut locks whirling around him, as he twirls clockwise, then counter clockwise, smiling happily at the sky.
The moon is so full of delight at the beautiful boy's night dance, that it gleams and radiates its vibes towards him. Now highlighted by the moon, the boy's eyes and mouth can truly be appreciated, those eyes so brilliant, dancing along with the boy's limbs, shining just as brightly as the moon.
His lips hold an almost permanent grin of delightful gaiety, yet look so tempting to kiss. The boy's limbs move to his internal beat.
They are willowy and small; the boy himself is quite small. In fact, admiring him with open heart, frailty and coquetry come to mind.
Those eyes speak more than just childish glee, but of a desire to be seduced and know it is seduction. His cheeks rosy from his exertions, makes a blush so pretty, the need to touch lips to feel its heat, is almost unbearable.
He lifts a leg behind him and throws his arms in the air laughing. This pose though is not humorous at all it is breathtakingly beautiful. This boy has no idea of his poise and graceful nature.
Moving his arms back and forth slowly, his hands moving playfully in the air, gives the observer quite a view of delicate appendages.
Yes, there is an observer, a voyeur, a young man in love. Love at first sight of the dancing nymph. Struck in the heart so fiercely, the glorious youth could hardly breathe.
The young man with eyes the color of priceless emeralds, never thought a walk in the woods to clear his mind, would bring ecstasy to his soul.
The young man himself is a glory to behold. Pure white hair, that looks silky, soft, instead of brittle, and dead.
Pale skin, flawless but also shows he is ill as well. Two ruby dots emblazoned on his forehead, don't mar his looks, if anything adds character to his beauty.
His attire symbolizes a lot about him, pure white, just like his hair.
Looking at his open kimono top, you see the symbol of his clan, proudly shown. This youth stands at the edge of the wood staring at the beauty in the clearing insecure about himself.
He is most humble and honorable, a true warrior, a more than worthy potential mate.
His arms across his chest, he continues to longing look at the beauty. He desires so much to have the boy, to make him his.
The white-haired youth's mind so clinically perfect in battle, genius of ultimate par, cannot seem to help him. His brain just as apprehensive as he.
There is no doubt though, the boy will be his. He is meant to be with him, Fate cannot be cruel enough to show him immense loveliness, to allow him the presence of such becoming liberty.
Having enough of his cowardice, he steps into the clearing, arms wide, to show the boy he means him no harm. The wind catching his pale locks, floating them around his head, like an ethereal crown.
The beautiful boy stops in mid whirl, mouth opening in shock. Clutching his chest, he falls to his knees before the angel walking towards him.
The young man is taken aback; he did expect such a response! Is the boy afraid of him? That question does not sit well with the youth. He stops in front of his new heart and bends down. Placing his face close to the others, he touches the sides of the boy's face.
"You are everything I dreamed I would never have."
The boy of feminine quality gasps at such heart touching words. No one has ever said anything truly sweet to him before. To have this angelic being tell him he desires him, tears spring to his eyes. He does not care if every last one falls. This angel wants him, not as a tool, but as a lover.
"What is your name?"
The white-haired youth places his lips gently onto the boy's.
"Kimimaro," he breathes to the young one.
"Tell me pretty, what is yours?"
Shivering pleasurably at having wonderfully soft lips on his, he tentatively reaches a hand to the older boy's hair. Sighing at its delicate texture, he fights the urge to pull the hair to his face.
"Haku," he blushes and tries to turn his head to hide it.
Fortunately, Kimimaro does not allow it; he locks Haku's head in place.
"Don't dare turn such a desirous look from me," he gently caresses his lips against the young boy's.
Haku hands tighten in Kimimaro's hair. Pulling the older boy closer, he deepens the kiss.
Emerald eyes widen, but the young man does not pull away, he wraps his arms around the younger boy's waist. Hoisting the boy in the air, he turns in a circular motion. Kimimaro has never been as happy as he is now.
Haku breaks the kiss and looks into the sky, only to see it swirling above him. He lets out a gleeful laugh and stretches his arms from his body.
"Faster love, faster," he cries, tossing his head back, exposing a swan-like neck.
Kimimaro speeds twirl up, but he can't help but take a taste of Haku's neck.
"Oh love," the young boy gasps at the sensations.
Kimimaro's tongue dances a path across the vibrating flesh. As he becomes more concentrated on this task, his turning comes to a halt.
"You taste so wonderful darling," he rubs his lips sensuously up Haku's neck.
Dizzy from not only the spinning, but also the pleasure he is feeling, Haku grasps Kimimaro's hair once more.
"Taste me more, mark me my beautiful angel, make me yours."
Tears sting the back of the white-haired youth's eyes. He never considered himself beautiful, let alone an angel. Haku saw him this way though, knowing this, Kimimaro's soul leaps within him.
He pulls away from the youth, but still holds him in his arms.
"Will you allow me to court you?" He then laughs at his use of such old-fashioned terms. "I mean will…"
He is cut off by Haku's gentle fingers.
"I will gladly take you as my beau," he smiles at using a complementary old-fashioned term himself.
Kimimaro kisses Haku fervently, squeezing him tightly in his arms.
"You must be my destiny, I never believed Fate could be so beneficent."