This is me listening to the 97 hours of commercial free music my station's doing. Writing exercise. Torture for all of you. Have fun...
~~~
The sword was cold in his hands as it cut an arc through the air. Seiji could feel the chi flowing out of the snow-topped ground, centering his stance, focusing his breathing. Yet it was still hard to open his eyes...
Counter. Block. Under. Slash. Step back, half step, arms forming cranes and tigers. Cannot hide in the darkness. Thrust. Parry. Spin. Cannot hide. A leap over the snow, landing silent. "Open your eyes, damn it," and into his steaming breath, he did.
The metal sword shone in the sunlight. He'd spent hours polishing, smoothing over every minor nick until he could sense the sharpness of the edge. Faster it flew around him, his arms falling into the long-practiced motions, his gaze... falling on the reflection in the blurry blade.
The golden, shining angel holding the sword.
He would not stop. He would finish the kata, he would not let those perfect lavender eyes seize him.
I just want to be a man. But as surely as the flying steel was a cage for his reflection, he could not escape what he was. Could never escape Korin, could never escape being a Date, could never undo Seiji.
~~~
Kujuurou watched him sleep. He was prone to such, when he took a lover. Sleep was difficult to hold on to when darkness wrapped itself around his heart and told him what to dream.
But no one like this.
Touma thought nothing of buying cotton candy to share, or biking down a hill bare-handed, or simply sprawling on his lap to read.
They were comfortable, now. It had not been as such when their armors and virtues were at odds. Beautiful, foolish boy.
Could they even guess what price he'd paid? Did they know their lovely Touma had mortgaged his soul to stay with him?
They might be on their death beds before they found out. That parting, too, was part of the price.
Kujuurou pulled him close. No matter. The shadows were theirs.
~~~
skip David Gray, he makes me think of my best friend
~~~
The physical wounds were never a problem. Sage exhausted himself finding every last abrasion, every last wound. Strangely they found no poison, not even in the nastiest cuts.
Mentally, Cye was like a minefield. Opening the hall closet, he went ash-white and knocked down Rowen, then almost punched him out trying to shake off his arms. It took half an hour to calm him down.
Shoelaces.
Rowen took to double-knotting and taping his.
They rounded up all the string, rope, and wire in the house and hid it. Kento dug a hole for the garden hose and put a tarp on it. Mia was so worried she gave away all the spaghetti and long noodles. For once Kento did not complain. Neither would Cye set foot anywhere near piles of leaves or weedy ground. Ryo spent long hours raking and mowing the yard, just so he'd leave the house.
~~~
Ash flicked off Yohji's cigarette. A little of it landed on his bare arm, but he didn't notice.
The hours were like days.
He passed the lighter to the other man on the window sill. The flame flickered over green hair and hard catlike eyes.
"So what's your story."
The lighter flashed in the air. Yohji caught it.
"I'm a ghost."
Yohji tapped the frosted window pane, and sat back.
~~~
Shuu lapped at the smooth young nipple, listening to the mewling cries.
~~~
How did they want it tonight? Ripped mesh stockings? Expensive designer slacks? Did they want the shirt whose buttons popped off?
He looked over at Touma, who was glittering up. No time to think of lives better spent. Seiji swung a leg over and began to work him through his thin underwear. Touma clung to him, legs parting, panting.
Sweet, that offer. But this was all for the client.
~~~
Squall looked from one to the other. Laguna looked quietly stunned, and Irvine was biting his lip like he was going to take a shot.
"To hell with the fucking rules," he said. "Let's do it."
"What?" rasped Laguna.
Irvine took a drag and handed it to Laguna. "Makes sense. We've all got something to lose if this falls through. Might as well keep our stories straight."
Laguna glared at him. Squall found it funny that Irvine could get to him so quickly. "I think there's a hell of a lot more of it than getting our stories straight!"
"Yeah... like the sex."
~~~
Modern English!
~~~
Slime dripped down his legs as the sharp slaps continued. He could only think of how the strange cloth rode up his bottom, how it followed the line of his erection like a heavy hand. He wondered where his royal jewelry had gone as the thing writhed in his throat, forcing choked tears to run down his face.
Cry out? What was the point? Anyone coming near would not only be threatened by the beast, but see him in this humiliating position.
A hard heavy blow and he could feel his skin welting up.
~~~
I'd buy your love.
~~~
"Okaasan, I don't want to!"
"You must. The evil spirits will not recognize you this way."
Seiji eyed the green kimono. The green *girl's* kimono. Somewhere in his mind this registered as the utmost of cruelty.
~~~
Hmm. Space Between. Too long to ficbit. Where are all the atmosphere songs you've been torturing me with all day?! Ahhh. Here.
~~~
Yohji couldn't move. There he was. Other people went for the hair first, or the eyes, but Yohji was drawn to his mouth. It was set in a frown, and Yohji couldn't blame him.
"Seij?"
He didn't need to see those lips thinning to know he'd fucked up bad this time. He couldn't move. If he did the walls might crack and the beauty before him might shatter like glass. There was nothing else to do; Seiji hated hearing he was beautiful but that's all Yohji could think of.
He could only think of the way his lips parted for his tongue. He could only think of the way his hands touched his skin. He could practically feel the weight and warmth of his cock in his mouth, he could bury himself in memories of the taste.
What he wouldn't give to be anyone other than himself. Maybe then he'd have a chance in hell.
~~~
The tree root scraped his wrists, and he felt the skin of his palms tear on the frozen dirt. "No! God...!" Touma tugged at his wrists, but they were jammed in, the only way would be cutting through the root and he didn't have time for that. The cold, calloused hands slipped up his shirt and then down-- "Oh shit..." -- to grasp his cock and pull it out.
He shuddered at the sudden cold. His arousal shrank, sending a wave of cold from his solar plexus out. A knee on his back shoved him into the snow, and he cried out as his layers of pants were stripped off.
Kujuurou pushed him into the snow. He screamed again. Whether through his own body or Kujuurou's magic, Touma could feel his erection swelling once more, and as the cold lanced his veins he cursed his kink for pain.
You are the Crumbs at the bottom of the Jar. You are a Mixture of many other different animals' broken bits and pieces. And it's very easy to go with the wind. See where it takes you!
And as the lethargy sets in, as the panic crawls on the edge of my fingers, the sweat breaks on my chest and the ache is there again, fresh as it was when I was fifteen, that no ink-set boy can satisfy... that longing for someone to find string solos and folk music for me, for someone to feed me chocolate and be fed, for someone to take me to bookstores for fun, for someone to wrangle stories with me, for someone to run their hands right across there and make me forget I've a body of a girl, make me feel like leather seats and mangos and warm sparks when we bank the fire. Someone I can grab and shriek at during the good part. Someone who laughs at my jokes. And doesn't mind scratching my back.
Oooooh no. I swear there's still a trace of that Basque blood from my grandmother's side, the heated violence of the (current) mob branch of my mother's distant cousins, there's that aching that nursed itself in the equatorial sun and never bloomed. I've managed to keep it under for a few years... when it took, I'd played the most vicious emotional games with myself and others, because when it takes hold it's hard to stop simple interest from turning into passionate do-or-dies and man, I don't need this right now...
And the worst part is, I want it. I might even need it, to get out of this hole, but it scares the shit out of me to step out into an emotionally close relationship right now but does my body care nooooooo. It takes everything over, like a story I've got to find the ending for. All or nothing. Maybe when I get back on the correct chemicals, it'll pass... but oh I want it. It's proof I can feel something, instead of walking around wrapped up in my own cranium.
A virgin? Technically.
More like dry kindling.
It's got no object yet. But now it's the subject...
Ahhhh... probably one of the best New Year's on record, even if I didn't go out or even get drunk. Didn't even watch Dick Clark. Nope, nope, I spent a wonderful evening with my boys celebrating at the House. Me and my tub of icing. They made lovely fireworks for me, both in the sky and in bed -- mmm, two cocks at once. And then as I dragged myself from that 4 am bedtime, I found an e-mail from BlackRose saying she wants to host my fic! I'm ecstatic. Now for the horrid task of revising "going through the motions" which frankly makes me seasick. It just doesn't... ick. It rings hollow. It needs major fixing, and it's an *atmosphere* fix, which is even harder since I don't have Laguna's character down completely.
It was like a song tugging in him to be written. Seiji was only passable on the bamboo flute, and was even worse at reading notes, but the melody was cloying and insubstantial.
"So Sayoko called me up last night and we talked till midnight, can you believe it? We never used to talk about anything and now that she's married she calls all the time. I wonder sometimes if she spends more time talking to me than Ryuusuke-san. Oh, good, the bok choy is on sale. What do you think of those peanuts? Shuu loves them."
Seiji regarded them, and offered his opinion, voice carrying under the bustle of the crowd. The market smelled of salt and spice, and the rawness which escaped packaging. Shin haggled with the vendor in a quick, firm voice. He counted out his money as the vegetables were weighed, checking items off his list. Seiji studied the pile of soybeans, feeling the stares collecting at his back. It was forming like music in his head but he couldn't sing.
"You're not getting tired, Seiji?" Shin was looking up at him, concern on his face. Seiji tried to smile. Barely. No, I am not tired, he said. They wove through the crowd and stopped in a flowershop. Shin was still talking about the pot his mother had given him, a wide bowl like a lake, perfect for an arrangement he had thought of the other night. His voice rolled through Seiji like swells on a windy day. Seiji watched his hands ghost over the petals.
"Arigatou gozaimas'!" Shin smiled at the young man with the earring who wrapped the flowers. He looked surprised when Seiji picked up all the other groceries but he didn't say anything. They sat together in a corner of the subway, Shin still chattering, quieter, telling him about his new projects for school, the kimono he was having repaired, the way the lights flickered in the tunnels.
They climbed the stairs to his apartment, side by side, Seiji talking now of ancient swords, how the best blades were folded a thousand times in the forge to make the purest metal. He looked over at Shin who was cradling the flowers. His blue green eyes were focused and careful as he picked out the key, the auburn hair soft on his cheek. Seiji smiled. They were going to have a nice time cooking together. A wonderful dinner. He would watch Shin arrange the flowers as he talked of the latest book he'd read, the latest e-mail from Touma. The warmth of it might carry him all the way out the door, to the subway station, to his bed.
The door snicked open.
Shin smelled of spice, and the sea.
He set his bags on the floor. Closed the door. Made Shin stand back up in his unlaced shoes. "Seiji?"
Put the flowers down, Shin. He stroked the lock of hair out of the way. Shin's eyes were widening, like lakes, his lips parting. Seiji smiled again. Then he kissed him. His hands roamed over the wide shoulders and slim hips, tasting relentlessly.
"S-seiji... the flowers!" Shin bent down to catch them before they landed, and instead fell over his shoes. Fortunately Seiji was able to save them. Shin looked up at him, cheeks flushing.
Their hearts were beating fast when Seiji crouched down to continue the kiss. Their hands intwined on the floor, their bodies moving in unison. Wordlessly Shin guided them to the little futon. And as Seiji revealed the smooth skin beneath the worn shirt, as their hands explored their soft places, their wet places, he thought he might have heard it. Pure crystalline notes.
But it didn't matter. "I've got you," said Seiji.
"Yes," Shin answered, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
Mmm, food. So I really haven't been blogging with any degree of seriousness lately. This would be a crash... mild, but a crash nonetheless. It's not really like a wreck -- if it was a wreck, I'd be on my way to feeling better. Nope, crashes are where I stop moving. Suddenly things that really ought to be important... can be put off. Suspend animation. Click. Click. Click. Maybe two clicks an hour. Click....
I've got pictures and stories in my head. Santa Seiji, Touma in the snow, lovely little bits of goodness. Haven't gotten to them. I have gotten quite a bit of Neopets. Lavishing love on them like they're kids. I must love 'em more than my snake, 'cause her pad needs cleaning.
*sighs* Priorities. They all get so mixed up. I guess the mind thinks, when everything is flat nothing rolls off the cliff. I'll do better tomorrow. New year? What new year? We're never in the same place twice. The Sun is moving through its nebula, the nebulae moving through the galaxy, the galaxy through the universe. Another year means the seasons begin again... but we will never be in the same place twice.
~60K of graphics :: Koani by
Alice in Wonderland :: Scorpion by Ushikai Background and buttons by Triple Orbit Graphics ~ Sadly it's no longer at its former website.
