Title: Only The Dark
Word Count: 245
Author:
ceredwensirius
Written For:
grangerblack100
Rating: R
Challenge: Rebirth
Disclaimer: Not my characters
Authors Notes: Thank you to my beta
whitmans_kiss
They liken it, he knows, to a rebirth of sorts; this sack of bone and blood in which he squirms. Sweat, and piss, and shit, and the uncomfortable thrumming of his heart in his chest; all these things with which he must now contend - the banalities of life that got lost beyond a simple tattered piece of cloth. Love, and peace, and friends reunited all lost in an exchange for pain and confusion. Life; how hard it really is, is that much more evident when you've had it taken away and then cruelly returned. He is adrift and out of touch with a world that moved on without him in it.
None of this, however, compares with the disorientation he feels around her - breath tight in his chest and nerves that sting and prick in her company. It's almost too much - her friendly smile and platonic touch that he longs to turn into something far less innocent. Thoughts follow along a track in his mind; he can feel the groove that they are wearing.
Only alone under the blanket of night, in the hush and quiet of his room, in dark imaginings, does she belong to him. Eyes closed to reality, he grips himself tight; coarse masculine hands are fantasized as being soft and delicate. He hears her voice in his mind, his name a whispered prayer encouraging him to let it all and go and give himself to her.
He does.
Word Count: 245
Author:
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Written For:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
Rating: R
Challenge: Rebirth
Disclaimer: Not my characters
Authors Notes: Thank you to my beta
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
They liken it, he knows, to a rebirth of sorts; this sack of bone and blood in which he squirms. Sweat, and piss, and shit, and the uncomfortable thrumming of his heart in his chest; all these things with which he must now contend - the banalities of life that got lost beyond a simple tattered piece of cloth. Love, and peace, and friends reunited all lost in an exchange for pain and confusion. Life; how hard it really is, is that much more evident when you've had it taken away and then cruelly returned. He is adrift and out of touch with a world that moved on without him in it.
None of this, however, compares with the disorientation he feels around her - breath tight in his chest and nerves that sting and prick in her company. It's almost too much - her friendly smile and platonic touch that he longs to turn into something far less innocent. Thoughts follow along a track in his mind; he can feel the groove that they are wearing.
Only alone under the blanket of night, in the hush and quiet of his room, in dark imaginings, does she belong to him. Eyes closed to reality, he grips himself tight; coarse masculine hands are fantasized as being soft and delicate. He hears her voice in his mind, his name a whispered prayer encouraging him to let it all and go and give himself to her.
He does.
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Lovely.
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