FIRE AND WATER - Kwayera
He knocks on her door, brooding.
She opens it, frowning.
He steps in around her, unreadable, musing.
She follows him, curious, passive.
(fire and water, headily warring, elementals twisting and turning and avoiding)
Two words, tainted with sorrow: "I'm sorry."
Two more, tainted with empathy: "I know."
He reaches out, desperate for that soft feel of her skin.
She reaches out, desperate for that gentle melding of touch.
It is not to be.
(fire and water, headily mixing, elementals burning and raging and evolving)
Instead, the violent collision of their flesh as clothes were torn away from bodies that were sinking to the cold floor was exquisite torture, forbidden and they know it.
They know it, and they don't care.
His ring is carelessly flung of his finger at the same pace that she sinks her teeth into his shoulder.
They know it, and they don't care.
He roughly touches her and she flips them, her nails digging into his suddenly bare flesh as she sinks down onto him.
Two gasps, tainted with hatred and desire.
(fire and water, headily flying, elementals lying and fighting and grinding)
She gasps at the rough intrusion at the same pace that he groans, slamming his head back onto the floor and digging his own fingers into her hips.
Tears run down her cheek.
They know it, and they don't care.
He grimaces, trying not to feel.
They know it, and they don't care.
Two words, tainted with hate: "Don't stop."
Two words, tainted with pain: "I won't."
(fire and water, headily dying, elementals tearing and hating and caring)
She comes apart, harshly digging her nails into his arms that dig into her hips.
He comes apart, harshly swiping at her face before swiping at his own.
She sinks onto him, callous.
He pushes her away, reticent.
She gets up, picks up her torn clothes, and vanishes.
He gets up, picks up his ragged clothes, puts them on, and opens the door.
Two words, unheard: "Don't leave."
Two words, unspoken: "Too late."
They knew it, and they didn't care anyway.
FIN