virgil
a /ro(man)/tic history
Axel carved color from his scars, no longer doubtful of Xigbar's aversion towards the Great Maiden Heart.
What once was a Braig was, too, a mouse, a hoary-headed rodent, all skittish and fearful and stupid. With trap-tangled lips and a worry-gnawed tail, he skirted every decision; to him, all was right, all was gray. Braig warbled concessions from a cold, gelatinous puddle on the floor.
Axel sucked his fingers and face.
As Xigbar, he had /choice/.
A shot between each rib? Or a misplaced kidney? Cut up your corneas; shatter your sacrum, freefall—'til dead—through dimension I? Maybe II; V? How's about a fuck? Sure, kitty-bitch. Upside-down? Hell yea.
On the Ceiling of Empty Melodies where the floor drops faster then our sweat?
The slightest groan.
Even his hairs knew what they wanted.
An exquisite scrabble of names, pleas, cum.
The Virgin made no promises, and Xigbar hadn't the slightest if it was he or Braig that would claim their one, new heart.
(/done)
review, kplz.
pairing: xigbar.axel
prompt: "What do you fear the most?"
for LJuser lostscore
archetypes in the title and allusion to rodents. look, it's everywhere. ps: BiZ is drabbling for LJ; you should certainly become her friend for early updates, unseen ficage, and utter shaninaganerry (/publicserviceannouncement). there's a smilie on my knee.
