Notes of the Author
The poem I used comes from Carroll's Through the Looking-Glass, and it is the poem the White Knight sings to Alice - a parody of a popular love song of the time.
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Enjoy~!
Ballade
She loved the luscious, soft caress of her silk negligee over her naked skin. It suited her small body gently, brushing the delicate, barely outlined curve of her nipples lightly, like the tender kiss of a lover's lips. She felt beautiful, with her cheeks so rosy, so glowing with light. She felt alive.
At first silently, then more and more cheerfully, she started whispering a few words of an old song. Those bright, crystalline notes floating in the air were her own chirping, carefree way to respond to the love freshly made.
'I'll tell thee everything I can
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
a-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said.
"And how is it you live?"…'
She caressed Break's cheek with smiling eyes.
"Who are you, aged man?".
"Your servant, little miss".
Sharon fluttered her long, fair eyelashes in quite a pleased and satisfied way, then she rose, leaving their bed, their dark wooden secret bed – the witness of their guilt. Her hand reached out for his, and a few seconds later she had pulled Break out of their rumpled blankets.
"Dance with me, Xerx-nii. Wouldn't you?"
"I can't dance, ojou-sama. I would just—".
"It doesn't matter. I don't care. Just dance with me. Just hold me tight. It's so easy, you just have to… Put your hand… Here… Like this…"
Her fingers, gentle and light upon the pale skin of his wrists, guided his right hand on her left hip. Slowly, the two began to move. Slowly, the two began to swing. They drew a circle of sunset hair and lifted elbows, while their bare feet intertwined with every dizzy, sultry vault.
Break closed his blind eye. He didn't need it. He let the giddiness overwhelm his mind. They were dancing on the verge of the abyss, he thought. Indeed, inside the hot, confused whirl of perfume and luscious caresses of silk they found themselves irreparable lost.
Love. Was that its taste, its sound? Was that the way it took possession of the solitary soul of an old knight, accustomed to woods and scars, and blades and pain?
He let his fingers slip along the sweet curve of Sharon's back. His fingertips could feel the gentle fold between her buttocks beyond the silky, powder coloured negligee. He allowed his hand the forbidden delight to lift that light, caressing fabric, until it left Sharon's delicate beauty exposed to his eager and yet reverent fingers. Break pressed them, impure and fierce, upon her skin, gliding on her buttocks until his fingertips discovered her wet, hidden pleasure. He fondled her, his lips marked her neck as his own property, moving along a track of tender, invisible kisses.
Their naked hips meet, their bodies suspended their delirious twirl to properly explore the impelling impulsion to drink each other's soul through every kiss. Hardly covered by the pure white blankets of the bed, Reim moved slightly to reach for his spectacles. His fingers met a glass of white wine. He touched it lightly, then he smiled, while Sharon's song still echoed in his mind:
'"Who are you, aged man?" I said.
"And how is it you live?"…'
They had fought the death inside of him-
And one was now forever three.