[a/mc] grave
Author: hermonthis
Title: Grave
Fandom: Storm Hawks
Characters: Aerrow, Master Cyclonis
Genre: romance, drama
Rating: mature
Words: 303
Grave
I. Adv. and adj. Musical term.
In a slow and solemn manner. Used chiefly as a direction. Italian, from Latin gravis, heavy.
II. Adj., grav•er, grav•est.
Somber or dark in hue.
Grave
Because no one wants to die a virgin. Because she has one hour left to live and she might as well use it. Her arms are skinny and cold, and look as if they belong to someone who did not take the time to go outside and play under the sun. Gloved fingers rub against her skin, up against her arms, but he refuses to kiss her. It is too much of a request anyways. His warm breath upon her cheek is the closest moment where their lips might - and could have - touched.
And somewhere, deep inside, he is still vulnerable. As they come closer to each other she starts to see past the glass he surrounds himself in, the inches of invisible barriers that are greatest around his chest and the slanted shield that protects his somber face.
As she lies down on the ground his hands are at her back to soften her fall. His fingers cradle the back of her skull to protect her head. As she closes her eyes and gasps loudly when he finally enters her, she hears echoes of the young, optimistic boy trapped underneath the layer of desperate adulthood. There is time for Cyclonis to laugh quietly to herself with the realization that the boy she knew is still there, and despite his toned body, Aerrow is a messy lover.
He did not want to be like this, just like she does not want to see her homeland descend in honour, but the transformation is already done. Cyclonis wonders about alternate routes, different circumstances in the moments before and in between this pseudo-love, but loses herself with his rhythmic grunts. Sex, she thinks, is fascinating. Moreso with the majority of their clothes on.
Still, it could be much better if it didn't feel so technical.
Title: Grave
Fandom: Storm Hawks
Characters: Aerrow, Master Cyclonis
Genre: romance, drama
Rating: mature
Words: 303
Grave
I. Adv. and adj. Musical term.
In a slow and solemn manner. Used chiefly as a direction. Italian, from Latin gravis, heavy.
II. Adj., grav•er, grav•est.
Somber or dark in hue.
Grave
Because no one wants to die a virgin. Because she has one hour left to live and she might as well use it. Her arms are skinny and cold, and look as if they belong to someone who did not take the time to go outside and play under the sun. Gloved fingers rub against her skin, up against her arms, but he refuses to kiss her. It is too much of a request anyways. His warm breath upon her cheek is the closest moment where their lips might - and could have - touched.
And somewhere, deep inside, he is still vulnerable. As they come closer to each other she starts to see past the glass he surrounds himself in, the inches of invisible barriers that are greatest around his chest and the slanted shield that protects his somber face.
As she lies down on the ground his hands are at her back to soften her fall. His fingers cradle the back of her skull to protect her head. As she closes her eyes and gasps loudly when he finally enters her, she hears echoes of the young, optimistic boy trapped underneath the layer of desperate adulthood. There is time for Cyclonis to laugh quietly to herself with the realization that the boy she knew is still there, and despite his toned body, Aerrow is a messy lover.
He did not want to be like this, just like she does not want to see her homeland descend in honour, but the transformation is already done. Cyclonis wonders about alternate routes, different circumstances in the moments before and in between this pseudo-love, but loses herself with his rhythmic grunts. Sex, she thinks, is fascinating. Moreso with the majority of their clothes on.
Still, it could be much better if it didn't feel so technical.