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P E R C E P T I O N
- ; SORIKU c o l l e c t i o n
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
#006 ; Pure
Riku was pure. He was practically devoid of all colours that tainted the body – his skin had not darkened in the relentless sun ( although he had lived on a tropical island all his life ). Instead it was the lovely pale shade of light cream, like porcelain. If Riku were female, Sora would easily compare him to the dolls Kairi used to collect when they were younger ( geishas, she had called them ). Of course, Riku was fair enough to match any woman's looks – even fairer, Sora mused with a feeling similar to pride ( though that wasn't quite it ) swelling in his chest. And he was quite the companion for him, that Riku. He and his bleached hair: long, silky, shiny. It was so sensual, a tempting allure, that he wanted to rub his cheek against it and feel the almost delicately sculpted ( yet still masculine ) jawbone buried somewhere underneath the ethereal veil of silk-spun platinum.
The teenager's eyes were cold yet clear: two ice chips set into a handsome visage and outlined in velvet soot. What colour was ice? Blue, white, and green? And grey? All cool colours which represented pristine emotions and senses. They, the iceberg eyes, reminded him of an icicle he had preserved in his freezer after a rare and unusual freeze – he had wanted to keep the glassy substance that glistened and remember its lack of solid pigment. He had no scars flawing his perfectly crafted, well-built physique, just gently rolling hills of refined muscle, glowing softly in the sun's brilliance as if seen through a filter. Though he claimed his heart had been dark once, plunged in the shadows, Sora still thought the older boy's form was pure and almost holy. Everything on the surface of him reflected bright light; the essence of purity.
& - - ;
Sora was pure. His personality refused to be touched by lurid spirits, and he avoided them like the plague. He was a saint in Riku's eyes – one never to commit any sort of wrong. He was the one who did justice to the worlds and saved them as well. The boy himself was nearly skeletal, free of hindering blubber or bulk. He did not overindulge himself with a plethora of food ( at least the metabolism didn't show it ) nor did he flaunt his tenuous vessel by working out extensively and excessively. He did not always have the selfish goal to impress, but rather let himself be. Sora was fine the way he was; perfect. He did not have a care about his hair; which, tousled, stuck out in a vast array of spikes in difference places – his mind was free of all vain thoughts that normally consumed his older friend. He did not worry or fret about staying outside in the daytime because his smooth skin bronzed without burning to a crisp.
And his eyes – they were blue. Blue like the ocean, cerulean mixed with deep cobalt to create a soothing effect on the viewer. He could get lost in those wide, bright eyes. He could drown in those Mediterranean depths, and all the accusing innocence they contained. He'd let the sea lapse over him any day. He'd even welcome it; embrace it with open arms. Riku suddenly imagined what it'd be like to simply hold that boy's slight frame in his sturdy grasp – wondered if he'd feel pure then.
He guessed not.
& - - ;
When Sora came to him in the Secret Place, bathed in the moonlight that shone through the gossamer-like cracks etched into the rock ceiling, they could no longer hold their desire or impulses back. Sora shed his moral like a subtle film of cocoon, which happened to also be his shirt. As Riku lifted an immaculately clean hand and reached out tentatively to brush his fingers against the flatness of his tanned chest, Sora took his hand in his and gently raised it to his lips. He lightly kissed the knuckles once, twice, fluttering butterfly wings grazing the skin before lust seemed to take his innocence over like a raging black shadow of doubt. Their fingers intertwined ( like their destinies should be ), they lied down side-by-side on the cold brown dirt that was just beginning to heat up with their warmth. As Sora pressed his lips against Riku's, feeling resistance, he asked in a single hot and moist breath:
"Am I going to Hell, Riku?" Nearly a hiss, escaping into the wind that sidled through the ventilated area. Not a question.
His first response:
"Everyone goes to Hell." Especially us.
His second response was to roll over on top of him.
& - - ;
Whatever pureness they had had before, was lost.
AUTHor's NOTe - -
Whoamygoodness. Is Constance actually updating this? Yes, I guess she is. Mainly for the sake of updating and to jog my muse as well. This is definitely a drabble – it's pointless. Blergh. But I wanted to at least get something up ( even if it is close to pr0n, lawlz ).
You didn't hear it from me.
Oh, and Happy New Year. Hope you have a good one. ♥