Sooo…I don't how this came about. Whale…irritated me. SOOOOO much in Season 1…but now… ;_;
Anyway...Red Cricket/Frankenwolf. I CAAANNN'TTT DECIDE.
….But I do need writing practice.
~O~
His world was without color.
The monochromatic greys and blacks of his world mesh into this new world neatly, a dichotomy of black and white that reflected the twisted notions of morality. Even as his cursed self he refrained from diving into the blaze of color, surrounding himself with the crisp black and whites of the hospital. Still, that did not keep him from admiring the bright sutures that held the curse together, the façades and dreamscapes that stitched every aspect of Storybrooke. Particularly, the bright red heart that danced gracefully about Granny's diner, revealing her supple skin and ample…appendages. He appreciated her form in silence, clinging to the greys of the shadows he so easily sported, ogling her lithe, youthful form. Even without his memories, he knew this was an anomaly, that women did not so easily put themselves on display. Then again he always embraced the strange, the oddest cases. The curve of her spine, the beautiful rise and fall of her withheld chest, the tumble of her dark curls against her moonlit skin. It sent a shiver down the back of his spine, one that Victor Frankenstein would have condemned as an involuntary spasm. He can only imagine what effect seeing her, a woman so bold and revealed, as the previous Victor Frankenstein might've been like. He probably would've fainted.
His lack of experience and understanding with the ways of woman had been thoroughly corrected in this world, and as Doctor Whale he had perused through many types of women, admired all the females in the Kingdom confined in one small town. His ignorance of the female anatomy long corrected, he openly trailed after her, a leech that feed off her presence. Her fiery spunk, her bravery, her kindness, he wanted it all. She was exceedingly human, the epitome of life. It burned in her like a fire, and the man that sought to create life yearned to touch the red flame, to feel the exuberance of life flow through his limbs, to kindle her unforgettable passion against his lips. In all his wonderings, in all of his experiments, he had forgotten what it felt like to live. He became so consumed in giving his life to recreate the one that was lost, and in doing so he had pushed his own needs away. Pushed his life away.
He had heard of true love, in this world, and the past, but never had he believed it. Not until now. Perhaps, even if he was not truly from their land, perhaps he was capable of such a feeling. Perhaps, his dusty, broken old heart was still capable of producing life, of feeling love. He hoped so. He hoped that every time he saw her would be the moment he told her, or better yet showed her just how much wanting he had for her. He was tired of being a man of words and theories; he wanted to jump into life, into the wild and unpredictable colors of their unfamiliar world, so he did. He committed the most rash, unthought-of out thing he could conceive in his scientific mind.
He kissed her.
Like the spark of a Bunsen burner he was ablaze, consumed by her heat. His mind, always full of plans and thoughts was turned to ash, his body responding like an unknown chemical reaction.
And then, by some sweet miracle he would forever thank, she kissed him back.
Her passion was enough to rival his pent up longing, and he could've sobbed with joy. He cradled her face, caressed her ribs, rubbed small circles into her hip. He pressed her against the bar of Granny's, unknowingly until he felt her gasp, only registering for a moment something was amiss before she pulled him back in, switching their positions with a strength he didn't know she possessed. He had to come up for air sooner than she did, and even when he pulled away her lips trailed down his neck, their scents intermingling and their breathing heavy. He explored her curves, his hands shaking with nervousness. Whale had been with many women, but Victor Frankenstein had only ever wanted one, and having her here before him made his heart race and his mind dizzy. He knotted his fingers in her curls, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt her teeth graze across his neck, gently biting over his jugular.
That did it.
The next thing he knew was burning alive and unable to get enough. He claimed her lips, and when he felt her fingers work their way into his tie, pulling the impressionable little knot loose he was thankful for the sudden breath of cold air against his neck. Her fingers, nimble and quick made short work of the buttons on his shirt, revealing his pale chest to her gaze. He pulled away with a shiver, his eyes scanning hers.
Granny's was closed, the only light being an oil lamp that sat on the wooden counter, shedding enough light he could make out her features with ease. The blinds were all drawn, and the little sign that hung on the door he had so promptly ignored granted them privacy from the outside world. Her fingers traced his chest timidly, almost shyly considering what they had been doing previously. He did his best to quiet his breathing; his loud pants the only thing keeping them from complete silence. His hands, forgotten until now, rubbed her shoulders encouragingly, and he inwardly cringed at her expression. She was memorized, and he had no doubt that his own sickly paleness, combined with the strange tiny scars that were sparsely littered all over his body was not a pleasant sight to behold.
"Perhaps-"she looked up at him, her bright eyes drowning him. He licked his chapped lips before continuing. "Perhaps I should not have come…" She snorted, her eyes questioning. "I'm not…" he began only to stop himself, his tongue tying itself into knots. "I'm not good at…feeling…things," He whispered admittedly. Her lips turned down into a frown, her eyes turning back to his chest, staring once more. Her palm rose and rested just under his collarbone, raising goosebumps and sending his mind careening.
"Funny, something is telling me otherwise," she whispered, gently lowering her head to his chest, and wrapping her arms around his torso. He went stiff as board as she listened to his heartbeat, the pace fast as a rabbit's and steady as a drum. She glanced up at him, her smile warm and saccharine.
"It sounds like your ticker is working just fine."
There, in the sweet smelling booths of Granny's, two monsters rekindled each other's hearts under the soft caresses of moonlight, basking in the warmth only the other could offer until dawn.
~O~
It was awful. :l
