My lover is a pale snake tail-dancing, made of finest incense smoke;
like animate moonlight and sentient shadows. He twines the green and silver
ribbons of the hypnotic music around himself, willow-swaying and cat-
stretching. My hungry eyes follow his lithe movements, fingers ravenous
for contact. His skin, limned by golden candlelight, slips like wet satin
beneath my touch. Glowing empty-full eyes, kohl lined and frenzy wide, pin
my trembling form to the bed. I am helpless before him, mastered by the
submissiveness he demonstrates only to me.
Non existent breezes ruffle and flick through his waterfall hair, turning it into a ragged silk curtain that shifts across his fairie face. Wet, melon-sweet lips the color of apricots move, forming silent words with the tender care of a mother holding an infant. Unvoiced incantations shiver the air, giant-strong and kitten soft. They create velvet ropes that bind me willingly to the feather mattress and change the music to a sultry slow- moving beat.
He advances achingly slowly, blue sparkles crackling supernova-like around his focused form. Panther-smooth he moves, crawling up onto the bed. His full-moon skin contrasts beautifully against my sun-kissed own; smooth innocence against permanent marks of knowledge left over the years in pain- kisses and graceful clumsiness. He slithers like the snake he is up my body, hissing his passion to me. His wicked tongue twines around the slippery words, words in a language that few humans ever hear. I echo his words slowly, feeling the mind shift that accompanies the verbal expression of our passion.
The stone room heats decadently, our panting cries beading up and trickling down the rough walls like moisture. Vision blurs as we compete each other, melding like two halves of one whole. I don't know where he ends and I begin, and that is how it should be. No one can understand who we really are, deep inside where only the other can reach. My feline friends would refuse to understand, anger-sharp words flaying my psyche into paper thin ribbons, mental confetti to scatter gaily across my shattered dreams.
So, we meet in secret, trysts artfully concealed from maliciously amused twinkling glances and heart-warm but suspicion-chilled inquiring stares. Soon, in a mere handful of weeks, out of this voluntary bondage we will be released; our seventh year of learning behind us. Away from the artless inquiries of genius jesters and those who would have our lives follow paths set before us like hedge mazes. We will no longer conceal ourselves behind the gauzy chiffon curtains of artificial distain, so transparent to our own eyes.
In ecstasy I moan his name. It was once bitter to my tongue, like wormwood and almonds, but now is the rich smoothness of rose honey in my mouth. His answering call is sweet poison to my ears, something I would die without.
Our bodies slow and cool, silent echoes of past passion brushing against our skin, leaving invisible trails of memory glimmering across us. Just before our sated minds travel the dream road together, my pale blond love stretches up and presses his lips to my one anti-vanity, the mark left in my infanthood by one's thunderstorm rage. Reality fades and we twine vine-like together, content until the world returns for us.
A/N = Wow. I gotta remember what I was on when I wrote this. I'm thinking of writing a second chapter to this, sort of a collection of their friend's impressions and suspicions. Probably Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Pansy. It may take some time though, so be patient.
Non existent breezes ruffle and flick through his waterfall hair, turning it into a ragged silk curtain that shifts across his fairie face. Wet, melon-sweet lips the color of apricots move, forming silent words with the tender care of a mother holding an infant. Unvoiced incantations shiver the air, giant-strong and kitten soft. They create velvet ropes that bind me willingly to the feather mattress and change the music to a sultry slow- moving beat.
He advances achingly slowly, blue sparkles crackling supernova-like around his focused form. Panther-smooth he moves, crawling up onto the bed. His full-moon skin contrasts beautifully against my sun-kissed own; smooth innocence against permanent marks of knowledge left over the years in pain- kisses and graceful clumsiness. He slithers like the snake he is up my body, hissing his passion to me. His wicked tongue twines around the slippery words, words in a language that few humans ever hear. I echo his words slowly, feeling the mind shift that accompanies the verbal expression of our passion.
The stone room heats decadently, our panting cries beading up and trickling down the rough walls like moisture. Vision blurs as we compete each other, melding like two halves of one whole. I don't know where he ends and I begin, and that is how it should be. No one can understand who we really are, deep inside where only the other can reach. My feline friends would refuse to understand, anger-sharp words flaying my psyche into paper thin ribbons, mental confetti to scatter gaily across my shattered dreams.
So, we meet in secret, trysts artfully concealed from maliciously amused twinkling glances and heart-warm but suspicion-chilled inquiring stares. Soon, in a mere handful of weeks, out of this voluntary bondage we will be released; our seventh year of learning behind us. Away from the artless inquiries of genius jesters and those who would have our lives follow paths set before us like hedge mazes. We will no longer conceal ourselves behind the gauzy chiffon curtains of artificial distain, so transparent to our own eyes.
In ecstasy I moan his name. It was once bitter to my tongue, like wormwood and almonds, but now is the rich smoothness of rose honey in my mouth. His answering call is sweet poison to my ears, something I would die without.
Our bodies slow and cool, silent echoes of past passion brushing against our skin, leaving invisible trails of memory glimmering across us. Just before our sated minds travel the dream road together, my pale blond love stretches up and presses his lips to my one anti-vanity, the mark left in my infanthood by one's thunderstorm rage. Reality fades and we twine vine-like together, content until the world returns for us.
A/N = Wow. I gotta remember what I was on when I wrote this. I'm thinking of writing a second chapter to this, sort of a collection of their friend's impressions and suspicions. Probably Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Pansy. It may take some time though, so be patient.