I Cannot Be Loved-My Dying Bride

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When William had asked for Grell to speak through his body he hadn't been expecting this. Grell had retreated to the kitchen and returned with a platter with honey still on the cone/wafer, a whole pomegranate, and a bit of wine. Of all the stranger things...Food? Food was going to teach William how to interpret Grell's beliefs...Honestly his perspective was just as confounding as his emotional aurora. He gave William the wine glass after he sat back down on the bed, the tray had a rim on it so none of the food would fall off. Grell was especially picky with keeping a clean house, it wasn't like a lady to be untidy.

The brunette felt that Grell wanted him to take a sip of the wine, so he did. It was about three ounces so he was very discreet (he still didn't know whether Grell wanted some or not.) It was very...Tasteful, how old was this wine, he wondered. New wine seldom tasted rich and sweet, it was often bitter and rather sour. Grell must've had a collection, he concluded. Taking another sip to admire the taste he gave it back to Grell, who hesitated to take a sip but did anyhow. He whined a bit due to the sting in his tongue but managed. He set the glass down on the tray and removed the knife from the sleek service (how William missed it he didn't know.) He held it the point to his ring finger, pin-pricking the flesh until a few drops of blood fell into the wine glass.

Lover put a knife in my hand

"Lay down right there..."

"That's my command."

Do as I say...In this blood-play

This was a form a communion, William knew this. He had monitored deaths in churches after all and he grew accustomed to watching people eat and drink the Host. The Scripture stated clearly that on their last night together Jesus broke the bread and gave each his disciples, even Judas, a piece. Then, he gave them each a sip of wine and for both he claimed it was his body and his blood. The very symbolism of it though, or perhaps the better term was genuineness, processed rather vaguely in his mind. He watched Grell very carefully as he gave him the wine glass again, urging him to drink. William was reluctant but drank anyhow, discovering the taste to be even more intoxicating!

Grell then grabbed his free hand and placed the knife in it. He stared at the blade in awe, was Grell actually asking him to cut himself again? No...That's not what this Eucharist was about, it was about Grell's flesh being offered to those crucified besides him. Perhaps he was starting to understand? And with that he placed the knife back in Grell's hand, who looked at him with a small, seductive smirk. He used the knife to cut open the pomegranate and gave William half of it. This was a common fact upon all reapers; pomegranates were the fruit of the dead since death prided upon itself. It was the only enemy invincible to its attackers! He shook his head, smiling somewhat. Grell truly was trying to speak to him in silent poetry. Snacking on the seeds of the pomegranate would bind him to this vow just as Persephone was to Hades. He clutched a few seeds between his fingers and placed them in his mouth.

Claw at my skin, I'll let you win

Caress your flesh

Burns like fire

Rosy sweet breath and your desire

Grell giggled, covering his pale lips when he noted a pomegranate seed lingered on the corner of William's lips. He reached to William's lips and grasped the seed between his long, red nails when his superior grabbed his smaller hand, "You're still bleeding and that was my snack,"

The seed and the blood on Grell's pricked finger joined on the appendage's tip, a new marriage had been formed. Death and the Eucharist, oh, he shivered! To be forever joined with his beloved in the gates of Heaven, in their bleak Underworld where his smile was the mere Luna above! Oh, he loved the very idea of it! He shivered even more when William kissed his fingertip, taking the seed and the drop of blood into his mouth. He tasted better than the aged wine and better than the fruit. He placed his hand on his chest, leaning into Grell who stopped him abruptly. Obviously the lesson was on yet finished.

Your skin, it's all...All I want

To take from you

Your mind is naught onto me

I'll leave behind

He brought the honey comb to his lips and took a small bite. The wax of it was organic and thus edible. William knew this as well, honey was a cherished substance by its very nature. Despite how one wanted to consume a flower to attain its scent and beauty they could not. Honey was the direct result of its consumption; processed through the stomach of a bumble bee and vomited up. It was sweet and was said to have healing powers. In other parts of the world he heard tell it was used in facial clays to maintain soft skin, others as a painkiller. There were many types of honey though and thus he didn't know which one to trust. He wasn't quite sure what kind of honey Grell was using; that of thorned, claret roses or pure, white calla lilies he didn't know. It looked dangerously sweet, just as escaping the edge of death was similar to that of the pomegranate.

Grell had only brought one honey comb though. Perhaps this was a lesson not for William.

Bound together, the darkest embrace

Bound forever...

We will be chaste

I paw...At your golden flesh

"Grell Sutcliffe," he sighed, "I do not understand this at all,"

Grell took the tray and set it down on the nightstand, still nibbling on the cone when he turned back to William. His eyebrow shifted seductively, his eyes never once breaking their lock on William. He removed the remaining cone from his mouth, his lips sticky and breath sweet smelling from the honey.

"Grell Sutcliffe..." William's eyes narrowed somewhat as Grell's lips closed in on his. He didn't pull away though as Grell's tongue (still saturated in sweet honey) touched his lips. He pushed his tongue between his lips, opening his mouth, and leaned in to kiss him deeper when he shoved his fingers into William's mouth, placing the honey wafer on his tongue. William gagged momentarily, placing his hands on Grell's chest to push him away, when the red-head engaged his mouth in chewing the cone. It was sweet, hardly as sweet as Grell's saliva made it though, he confessed to himself.

Golden breast

I sail on your...On your sea

Of ecstasy...

God I want you...Just be mine

Grell's tongue continued to swirl around his own, which was now laden with bits of the cone he had chewed and swallowed. As he scraped his tongue over Grell's he relished in the taste of his raw tongue; traces of blood and the flesh between the stitches. It was intoxicating! He groaned, opening his eyes as Grell leaned against him. He pushed him back, smothering his petite form. His body was so soft and delicate, fragile even. Yet it vibrated with an energy that made it hard, defined, and almost unbreakable. William began rocking his hips against Grell, who opened his legs to welcome the motion. Oh, his body was so like a scalpel. It was made of one of the strongest materials, it looked so delicate-almost like a jewel-but was harder and could do more harm than its appearance put on.

He bit down on his neck, earning a gasp from Grell who then moaned accordingly as his superior ran his tongue over the now raw, somewhat bleeding flesh.

Because you haunt me...

All the time

Your pain, it talks to me

Your pain, it talks to me


Somehow William felt that Grell was the incarnation of pain. His naked form lay before his own, protected by a thin sheet of silk from Grell's bed. His face was so peaceful and calm, like a corpse now at peace. Shinigami did not breathe when they slept, adding even more to his Sleeping Beauty aurora. In the almost microscopic, fine lines of the red reaper's face Pain had left her mark. His thin, dry lips opened a tad to reveal the sharp edges of his teeth. His skin was pale, as if cuts had drained all the blood out from his skin. A single touch though disproved that, as his skin was lukewarm and his pulse was tangible at his jugular. Pain possessed him though; pain of rejection, of love never requited, of beatings and endless nights of longing for death to bring him everlasting joy and bliss. Those treacherous shadows never came though, or when they did arrive they abandoned him on the spot.

William touched his cheek, adjusting the blanket atop his own nude form.

Your pain, it talks to me

And I heed it well

My hands, your neck!

They greet each well

His hand moved to Grell's neck, absentmindedly he wondered how easily his flesh could bruise. It had been their first time exploring each other's bodies in such depth, in such commitment and intimacy. He had only been so intimate with his own flesh, when he dug razors in so deep to see the muscle fibers and veins he could not slice. He knew flesh as a structure, as a mere network of nerves, veins, muscle fibers. It was the embodiment of one's soul and their mind, almost what kept them sane even. His only sanity came from tearing it apart, and he knew Grell's sanity was beyond normal. It was Surreal, Romantic, Tragic, and Gothic. His white skin, his blood, the network of nerves running through his bones and spine, and his golden eyes, was laden with extra-sensory wavelengths. Much like his chainsaw he felt the bone of his surrounding shatter and fall to bits, lavishing in their energy upon passage. He leeched off of it and how unrealistically beautiful in his made, yet so ugly at the same time. He was a nightmare in the form of beauty.

Romantic, now that was double-sided; it was love of another and love of GOD and all that embodied GOD. Such a divine Father could not be bound by flesh, but he could glow through the flesh. During their heated exploration, crushing each other into the mattress and their limbs twisting until they lost all feeling, he classified the red reaper as almost genderless (spiritually, so to speak.) He was a divinity of death, and death was only a natural occurrence. He loved all under death, just as the dying loved him. Gender was no matter here. Thus, Romance, as well as romance under the sheets. He was a desirable incubi...succubi...He grimaced, demons of desire...He had fallen to one before whose eyes gleamed like silver.

In a loving Hell

This hold we have can't last

It's killing me

Farewell my love, please walk away

Tragic, yes, Grell was tragic. He was forever lost not only in himself but the outside world. He longed for love, to be loved as a woman and not just as a man. He loved in many ways; he lusted, desired, liked, admired, and adored. These instances of infatuation were always mixed and sometimes all were applied at once such as in Jack the Ripper. He shivered, tracing his fingers down Grell's arm. The reaper stirred for a moment before calming back into his sleep, he wasn't in deep sleep yet. The shadows his hair cast over his face made him appear like a dark worshiper, Gothic indeed. Black was the concentrated essence of red, only so much blood could be poured into a vat to create a jelly of black. Grell worshiped the cross in red, not black. After all, red signified life, did it not? It was the color of blooming roses, one of the hues mixed into the sky at sunrise, and the color of blood shed in the name of love.

Grell was a twisted sort of Pain entirely, the beautiful twin of his former lover Pain. He would not be the one bleeding though, the liquid on the sheets proved that entirely. He wanted to possess that numbing Pain...

And take away My Pain