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wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me; offspring - Malis - 04-20-2017 MALIS makai x oksana RE: wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me; offspring - Offspring - 04-21-2017 something has been taken from deep inside of me; the secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see. He could still remember the way frost so gently encased his heavily muscled body, or the way it seemed to branch out from the very depths of his cracking, fragmented soul, filling every void and crevice within him with ice and snow. It was a sensation he longed to feel again, but fate had dealt him a cruel hand - where ice had once lingered, he only burned - his flesh tingling from the simmering heat that threatened to burst from within. Though it had only just begun to seep back into the sordid filth of his veins, and though he had never wielded its power, the flames continued to flicker inside, warming what had once been so frigid. The contrast of hot versus cold agitates his nerves, which dance wildly within the descending darkness, evoking a grunt of frustration from the pit of his chest. It is beneath the blanket of darkness that he cannot ward off the nightmares. Each one more bittersweet than the last, he can only hide away the darkest of his secrets for so long before fatigue and weariness force him to yield to sleep. Every time his heavy lids close, the fire burns again, scalding him, reminding him of the way his own searing flesh had bubbled and melted away from the sinewy tendons and hardened bones of his body. Each dream draws forth the image of the Cerberus, and the way he had so unceremoniously torn it apart, tasting its acrid, metallic blood on his tongue, leaving carnage in his wake. The soft lull of the distant roar of the sea water pounding against the shore; the only rein that held him tightly within any semblance of reality. The weight of his thoughts is heavy – a burden that lay between the taut, knotted muscles of his shoulders, anchoring him to the world that had betrayed him time and time again. The image of his closest friend, frail and whittled down to nothing but skin and bone, crumpled up against sand and stone, is burned within his mind. The sound of the briny sea rising and falling against the jagged igneous rock that lines the shore is a stark reminder of what he has lost, and he can feel the delicate thread of his sanity being pulled out to sea, unraveling slowly with the steady ebb and flow of the tide. He is roused, finally, by movement in the corner of his eye – a glimpse of dark indigo against the blackened night, and his breath is caught within his throat, as his name briefly touches her lips. A shuddering anguish settles within the tight confinement of his chest, and he is rendered breathless as she quietly moves to his side, her mouth pressed along the stiff and unyielding line of his jaw. His eyes, a festering, brewing storm, close then, as his cheek is turned towards her, finding solace in the warmth of her breath and the softness of her words. Three times, her confession comes, I was taken three times, and his heart lurches beneath his breast. The torment that had so easily burrowed into the marrow of his own bones had enveloped him after only once; he could not imagine a second – or third, and slowly his eyelids peel away from his piercing crimson eyes, observing the tension within her face and the anguish lining the vibrant green of her irises. I thought I must be losing my mind, and then, it is his own lips pressing against the length of her neck, as his cheek brushes lightly across her skin, tasting the salt of the ocean that lingers there. ”I feel like I am losing my mind most of the time,” he murmurs roughly against her skin; his rich baritone ragged from disuse and with emotion. ”I can barely remember a time that these nightmares did not plague me.” Her mouth is traveling, tasting the sulfur and sweat that lay across hard muscle and tight, puckered scarring, that lay across the darkness of his flesh, and he savors it – the comfort of her words; the soothing feel of her teeth and lips pressed against him. A quivering of guilt tugs at his heartstrings, knowing that there is only one that he should give the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind to, knowing that there is only one that can hold his heart. I should have been here for you, she breathes apologetically, broken and beautiful, and a longing ache he did not know existed urges his guilt away, if only for a while. ”You’re here now,” he says softly, quietly, a soft confession of needing her, needing this - whatever it was - etched into his words. A longing for something to tether him to the world that had spurned him, scorned him – a yearning for someone to make him feel like more than a flickering ember; a wayward flame in an unruly hurricane. ”Tell me it was real,” he pleads of her, pressing his cheek to her own, his dark mouth pressed along the crease of her jawline and neck as his voice reverberates against her throat, a simmering heat stirring somewhere within him. ”I don’t know what is and what is not anymore.” Then, softly, his mouth touches hers, the burning ruby of his eyes meeting with the endless emerald of her own, his breath mingling with hers – soft and sweet. ”Real or not real?” wounds so deep they never show; they never go away. like moving pictures in my head, for years and years they've played. Offspring RE: wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me; offspring - Malis - 04-21-2017 MALIS makai x oksana RE: wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me; offspring - Offspring - 04-21-2017 something has been taken from deep inside of me; the secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see. Offspring, she murmurs again, pulling him back from the insufferable weight of his own mind, drawing him back into the present moment and soon his searing gaze is searching for hers in the darkness. Again, her lips press against the tender crease of sinewy muscle and skin, and the stagnant, deafening silence that follows is nearly enough to drown him in the tousling movement of the sea churning inside of his head. His eyes search hers, the narrowed pupils and bright, seeing eyes – a glimmering sheen of emerald against the shadow of evenfall, and hidden within the rivulets of her irises, a sorrow – thinly veiled, alongside a weary, tired tension, not unlike his own. Her mouth touches the old, worn scarring that lay across his flesh – where wounds many years old have faded into thin lines, a vague reminder of the obscure, malevolent emotion that so often filled their crevices so evenly. Not lost, she utters against his skin, and he can feel her voice reverberating through him, vibrating ardently against the tendons beneath her mouth. Stolen, maybe, she decides, and the word settles within the flayed, gaping wound, burning and seething - yet still, it settles, filling it with implicit belonging. Stolen, the word echoes. Stolen, as he had been, as his body and mind had been, left powerless in the wake of falling under the wanton, greedy control of another. His breath is soft, and subtle against the deep indigo of her curves, drawing her nearer, pleading with her silently to stay - to stay, to be the anchor he so craves in the tumultuous, violent seascape of his furious memory. When her teeth begin to work along his knotted tresses, the girth of his neck lowers to her mouth, pressing against her cheek – seeking her comfort, and the soothing consolation of her knowing. It was real, she affirms, tugging at the feeble thread holding him together, toying with it in her clutching grasp. there was a man, and the immense effort it requires for him to maintain control of himself is immeasurable. He made you someone you are not, remade you for himself, and he is suddenly unlike himself, lost in the deeply buried memory of a winged beast that had slain so many, spilled the blood of so many, and suddenly the bitter, metallic taste of their blood is on his tongue again. He was powerless, yet a force to be reckoned with, riddled with a lust and longing for approval from the man – the bane to his existence, this irrefutable need to be wanted, needed - etched into his tired, angry soul, always. And still, she kisses him, voracious, heartening, bolstered with a delicate tendril of hunger that he can feel enveloping him – swallowing him, as he was so certain the sea would one day do to him. When his lips meet hers, and their breath mingles, he is so lost – the ridge of his brow line wrought with confusion, the tension of his jaw tight with an unbound desire, and her whisper draws him closer, as his own mouth presses to hers, eagerly. Offspring, and then, Isle, and the very same pang of guilt bursts forth from his chest, causing his pounding, needing heart to ache so deeply, he is certain it will disintegrate, and fall away into dust at his feet. ”She has my heart – she has always, she will always have my heart,” he utters, uncertainty written across the usually stoic features of his strong face. ”I love her, but I do not deserve her,” and the words are breathless, bent and broken and festering with a once unspoken truth. ”I have never deserved her, and she does not deserve this, me, whatever shell of a man I am now.” Still, his lips brush across hers as he speaks, and as his gaze bores into her own, his own anguish mixes with her own, and the faint ember flickering inside of him threatens to boil over into a hungry flame, scalding and zealous in is heat. Softly, quietly, ”You are the only one that knows,” his voice, it trembles, as the longing grows hot and impatient. ”you are the only one that can see what has broken me, as I can see what has broken you,” open, exposed, unguarded, as he had never been with her. ”I haven’t felt this alive in so long, Malis. Stay,” he urges, pressing his coveting mouth to the corner of her own. ”stay with me, I don’t – I can’t –“ I need this. wounds so deep they never show; they never go away. like moving pictures in my head, for years and years they've played. Offspring |