HINABN belongs to Tessa Stone-leave me alone, don't sue me
I'd love some comments on it please.
Love is like music. It starts off slow experimentally. Strumming the strings to see if every thing's alright. Is it tuned correctly? Are the strings too loose? Too tight? Would the noises made sound pained? Or would they soar free? It turns into a practiced old pattern. A tune played for warm up. A song everyone has learned. A song everyone knows. At least those with a desire to make noise. The strings are plucked and noise is made, it's not perfect, not what you wanted, but getting there. Slowly the noises shift. A pattern is formed; something just a little beyond comfortable, something new, something that makes every hair stand on end. Three chords repeating now, the noise is where you want it to be. Three chords repeating, getting louder, getting more intense. There is a viciousness in every movement. Every single emotion ever felt, put into action. The sounds get louder. Every single action is building up to a single moment of fury, of fire, of the world in one noise. "Jayne!"
You collapse, red head underneath you, only he's so much more than a simple red head. He is everything you never believed you could have, everything you never thought you wanted. He is there panting. Lips swollen and red, like fire, from kissing highlighting each of his lip piercings, Mohawk limp, Face flushed with desire and ecstasy. You're tired, too tired, but not too tired to reach over and grasp the thin young magician by his waist. Like a song fading off into the distance he murmurs "I love you." Every banshee, troll, harpy, griffin, and angry tree nymph that troubled you are gone. There is nothing in the world but you. Nothing outside this feeling of pure joy. The world grows slightly darker and before sleeps drags you off, you, in turn, murmur back, "I love you, Hanna." Your eyes slip closed, the world is black.