I'm back to a relative sense of normalcy now. Yaoi, Reno x Rufus.
Matinee
It's coming. I don't know why, and frankly I don't care to know. I await my love here in this leather cage, until he is finished playing at his father's diplomacy, until all that he endeavours so hard to resist swarms into him like a pious cloud of necrophiliac locusts, as hopelessly ruled by their desire for him as I am. He will come to me, step after step clattering down the carpet-clad hallways, against his better judgement of course. The very thought evokes from the depths of my tattered psyche a low laugh.....his better judgement! His better judgement is the reason why I fester here beneath Tseng's vitriolic authority and raging libido, why Strife torments me whilst I cannot crush him, and why I pay homage to wave after agonisingly tedious wave of the government's blazing neon doctrine. Oh, I love you, Rufus Shinra, but I'd just as soon shoot you as stay your dirty little secret for the rest of my life. Such humour is rife although unwelcome, must I once again await punishment? Perhaps a large device will materialize about my waist in threatening penance, ticking out beat after beat of enchanted melancholy, emblazoned with the word, "BOMB", in pearlescent semen-shaded letters. When the mechanical charges detonate without any great sound, the effects will be confined to my hair becoming further dishevelled and my hands suddenly presenting dark gunpowder stains, rather than the sickening scarlet trickling through their creased scars now. Some detached and gentle cartoon finality takes preference in my mind over being annihilated in an explosion of white light from Weapon's vengeful arsenal. Once more, my love for Rufus wells up beside these thoughts, taunting me with all its glorious prospects. Blossom, sweet undeniable emotion, let your rainbow beams of radiant agony sand-blast my ethereal skin and bleed my sickness dry for the one who owns my heart. I want it back, Rufus.
* * * * *
Christ almighty.....Dark Nation is chewing my shoes. Sometimes I wish he would just choke to death........at my feet, on his own rabid breath as his master commands. I am powerless even to deter him from his prize, akin to my lover in so many ways, my loyal, if disobedient canine guard is lean and muscular, with an unknowable glint in his eye, a shimmer of knowledge drowning in deep pools of dark diamonds. Not intelligence lost, merely overwhelmed by undisciplined passion. That is why I love Reno so, for his fire, his temprament spurring him to reach for the stars with a child's belief, his refusal to accept defeat. Most of all the inferno raging from the crown of his head to his shoulderblades; how I long for him to let it loose......to let that pyromanic russet river pour free between my unblemished fingers, these pallid arachnids which have never seen the sun, hungry for the touch of hair no man could tame. Especially not Reno. Ah, now the eternal awkwardness. To call him my lover would not be telling the exact truth. He is my partner only behind securely fastened doors. I often resign myself to wondering, long after Reno has wilted and fallen into light bouts of dreamless sleep beside me, why do we not confess our immoral adoration, what dreadful apparition do we fear so? The press? This I doubt. Our enemy is our own prudish vanity, cloistered between increasingly frequent moonlit encounters. One of my father's most ardently quoted lessons drilled into my memory by robotic recitations, day after day. "Vanity is our enemy", the political enemy........of a man whose hobbies all involved Scarlet and a whip. They say he built an empire, a wondrous stillborn child studded with formless stone and glass gargoyles. What did you build, Father? Only spectral castles of fear and torment, transparent milestones anchoring the faith of the filthy unwashed rejects of a civil war-torn Midgar in your twisted wisdom. It is a quiet war they fight, against disease, pestilence and death, but most of all against my juvenile regime. And through this tumult, Reno has been my antagonist, my soulmate and the only thing which kept me sane. So often has he discouraged me from this life of debate, slandering the profession I was unceremoniously lumbered with, amusing me just enough to survive another day of it. How I long for it to end.
* * * *
Chapter 2 coming soon As soon as I can be bothered Thank you to everyone who reviews my submissions - have faith, I'll get good in the end
Coronis @-)--
Matinee
It's coming. I don't know why, and frankly I don't care to know. I await my love here in this leather cage, until he is finished playing at his father's diplomacy, until all that he endeavours so hard to resist swarms into him like a pious cloud of necrophiliac locusts, as hopelessly ruled by their desire for him as I am. He will come to me, step after step clattering down the carpet-clad hallways, against his better judgement of course. The very thought evokes from the depths of my tattered psyche a low laugh.....his better judgement! His better judgement is the reason why I fester here beneath Tseng's vitriolic authority and raging libido, why Strife torments me whilst I cannot crush him, and why I pay homage to wave after agonisingly tedious wave of the government's blazing neon doctrine. Oh, I love you, Rufus Shinra, but I'd just as soon shoot you as stay your dirty little secret for the rest of my life. Such humour is rife although unwelcome, must I once again await punishment? Perhaps a large device will materialize about my waist in threatening penance, ticking out beat after beat of enchanted melancholy, emblazoned with the word, "BOMB", in pearlescent semen-shaded letters. When the mechanical charges detonate without any great sound, the effects will be confined to my hair becoming further dishevelled and my hands suddenly presenting dark gunpowder stains, rather than the sickening scarlet trickling through their creased scars now. Some detached and gentle cartoon finality takes preference in my mind over being annihilated in an explosion of white light from Weapon's vengeful arsenal. Once more, my love for Rufus wells up beside these thoughts, taunting me with all its glorious prospects. Blossom, sweet undeniable emotion, let your rainbow beams of radiant agony sand-blast my ethereal skin and bleed my sickness dry for the one who owns my heart. I want it back, Rufus.
* * * * *
Christ almighty.....Dark Nation is chewing my shoes. Sometimes I wish he would just choke to death........at my feet, on his own rabid breath as his master commands. I am powerless even to deter him from his prize, akin to my lover in so many ways, my loyal, if disobedient canine guard is lean and muscular, with an unknowable glint in his eye, a shimmer of knowledge drowning in deep pools of dark diamonds. Not intelligence lost, merely overwhelmed by undisciplined passion. That is why I love Reno so, for his fire, his temprament spurring him to reach for the stars with a child's belief, his refusal to accept defeat. Most of all the inferno raging from the crown of his head to his shoulderblades; how I long for him to let it loose......to let that pyromanic russet river pour free between my unblemished fingers, these pallid arachnids which have never seen the sun, hungry for the touch of hair no man could tame. Especially not Reno. Ah, now the eternal awkwardness. To call him my lover would not be telling the exact truth. He is my partner only behind securely fastened doors. I often resign myself to wondering, long after Reno has wilted and fallen into light bouts of dreamless sleep beside me, why do we not confess our immoral adoration, what dreadful apparition do we fear so? The press? This I doubt. Our enemy is our own prudish vanity, cloistered between increasingly frequent moonlit encounters. One of my father's most ardently quoted lessons drilled into my memory by robotic recitations, day after day. "Vanity is our enemy", the political enemy........of a man whose hobbies all involved Scarlet and a whip. They say he built an empire, a wondrous stillborn child studded with formless stone and glass gargoyles. What did you build, Father? Only spectral castles of fear and torment, transparent milestones anchoring the faith of the filthy unwashed rejects of a civil war-torn Midgar in your twisted wisdom. It is a quiet war they fight, against disease, pestilence and death, but most of all against my juvenile regime. And through this tumult, Reno has been my antagonist, my soulmate and the only thing which kept me sane. So often has he discouraged me from this life of debate, slandering the profession I was unceremoniously lumbered with, amusing me just enough to survive another day of it. How I long for it to end.
* * * *
Chapter 2 coming soon As soon as I can be bothered Thank you to everyone who reviews my submissions - have faith, I'll get good in the end
Coronis @-)--