hell yes i'm crying forever.masterbaitingJune 4 2011, 12:04:54 UTC
[The light-show of his own passion makes Alois' heart beat a little less oddly, but the oft-scorned and ever-wanted phrase gets it started all over again. As you wish, Claude says.
You say to God, ‘My beliefs are flawless and I am pure in Your sight.’
Alois breathes.
Oh, how I wish that God would speak, that He would open His lips against you
His forehead touches just above Claude's clavicle. Inhale: it's deep, reminiscent of gasping but with a sense of afterglow. Exhale: it's against Claude's skin, near where buttons meet.
and disclose to you the secrets of wisdom, for true wisdom has two sides. Know this: God has even forgotten some of your sin.
Claude had made Jim Macken bloom into Alois Trancy without the stray dog even realizing that there was passion. Alois had come alive and didn't notice it until he was reminded that being alive hurts very, very badly. Apathy into desire is uncomfortably accurate, and fingers like bird legs rub over scar tissue, above it onto smoothness, and then below it onto other
( ... )
let me be ridiculous at you for a sec here. 1/2stabilimentumJune 5 2011, 05:22:25 UTC
[Claude has never felt this much like he has a heartbeat of his own. Every irregular smack and stroke of his master's heart is being repeated inside his own chest, striking up more uncontrollable notes to knock about unholy hollows. When he said, As you wish, he intended it like a prayer; his tone would have fit with Agnus Dei. The notes are accompanied by soft-strange violin resonance, which Alois had noticed when they met again and confused for secret singing. As he lies here and lets the orders sink in, the music sinks even further through him, increasing in volume from pianississimo into fortondoando. The louder it gets for them, the more it resolves and reveals what it is: his love.
And nothing about this music is anything like those bullshit hymns that praise God.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, Both now and always, and unto the ages. Amen.
Fuck no.If he knew how many Biblical references were being used to describe their relationship, he wouldn't nearly look and feel so damn pleased with
( ... )
It's made from royal purple cotton yarn pulled into a spider web pattern, with shining gold stabilimenta in random places. Warm and smooth, but not as oppressive, the afghan slides on and around them, covering them both from the neck down.
As he tugs one corner into position, he murmurs and means,] Whatever you wish.
[It's warm, and it feels like it should be perfect. Parts of it are, at least. Parts of all of this seem crystalline, and the picture's skewed only by lovely-cut facets. It's fantastic. Alois draws his limbs in and wants so badly to be right where he is.
It's when he thinks too hard on it that he finds the impurities. If he strains everything too thoroughly, or combs through with too-fine teeth, he'll hit the snags: he'll remember that such sacrilege isn't meant to be revered like this. He wonders if a love affair with an angel would leave him any less likely to rot, and then sets himself to laughter whilst his face goes hidden against Claude's collar bone, just underneath his shoulder. With this, Alois is certain that their sizes are perfect. Claude's body was made for him to nest against. (That's not really an exaggeration.)
There's an amount of greed, he finds, after having seen like demons do. Alois wants to know: how does he look to Claude? He wants to know: ]
[... it would be immeasurably easier to describe what Alois looks like to him. Despite the inherent complexity, Claude could actually quantify everything in appreciable human terms. First, he'd say Alois is not unlike a "living constellation," defined by the seven primary chakras that are located up and down his body. They're starry vortices of color and heat, some more distinct than others, shaped like flowers and unfolded fans. All of them are interconnected via rippling ribbons, forming the astral treasure known as Alois Trancy--he's part wind, jewel, secret, and spirit. Finally, his ribbons weave to and blend into the greater, grander Design, a system more infinite and beautiful (and sinister) than any spider web known to exist. Sadly, many connections go dark where they've been bruised and broken by contract contact with the demon
( ... )
[That is somehow terrible to hear. Expected, entirely logical considering what Claude is, but it's terrible. It's easy to think, It's not fair. What had Claude even done to have God cast him out? (Is that how it went? Alois doesn't like to think about the distance between him and his servant- that he loves Claude so much yet knows really very little about him.) It must have been awful, whatever it was, to have his lights put out like that. Darkness is a cruel punishment.
The love churning around in his chest is enough to make him dizzy. It's really not fair.]
I'm right here, [he says, and then flushes and thinks it might sound stupid. But- if he is colorful and he is bright, then Claude shouldn't be missing anything at all. He hides himself, or tries to, but speaks again anyway: ] That's not what you look like to me, so that's not what you look like.
[Alois Trancy will be the one to define how exactly Claude's perceived, thank you very much.]My eyes will find what needs to be done and then your hands will do it. It works like
( ... )
[I would begin here, Claude thinks. Right here. And right here is right at the basal end of Alois' spinal column in the vicinity of his coccygeal plexus. It's right below where Claude has slid a few of his fingers to explore and exploit the next chakra like spectral, free-flowering fruit. He pushes past the many petals of Manipura to tease bitterest, crimson Muladhara. Right inside is the foundation of Alois Trancy, where physical and psychic longing resides, where Claude would devour the flesh itself from the inside on out. Already soulless, Alois' body would sleep through it, oblivious, unable to feel pain. Blood simply tastes best when it's still moving, you see. And Claude saves the succulent soles and souls for the very last bites.
He's salivating when he says,] That's exactly how it works. [His voice is damp with it. He isn't trying to hide it
( ... )
[Right now, it's more difficult to breathe, but that feels nice. Alois doesn't know why the muscles in his lower back pinch when Claude's hands slide up, like they're trying to draw his fingers back, but it makes Alois shiver. Everything about Claude makes his spine want to move, though- his fingers, his eyes. Right now, Alois feels so wanted. He feels like he's dominating desire; like he's been bathed in red wine, ready to be tasted. Something inside of him recoils - it's that human instinct, the need to get away from what will devour him. That makes it more exciting, though. He tells himself he'll never move from this spot, atop Claude, hearing what he's always wanted to. His thighs shift eagerly; his hands search for Claude's clavicle
( ... )
You say to God, ‘My beliefs are flawless
and I am pure in Your sight.’
Alois breathes.
Oh, how I wish that God would speak,
that He would open His lips against you
His forehead touches just above Claude's clavicle. Inhale: it's deep, reminiscent of gasping but with a sense of afterglow. Exhale: it's against Claude's skin, near where buttons meet.
and disclose to you the secrets of wisdom,
for true wisdom has two sides.
Know this: God has even forgotten some of your sin.
Claude had made Jim Macken bloom into Alois Trancy without the stray dog even realizing that there was passion. Alois had come alive and didn't notice it until he was reminded that being alive hurts very, very badly. Apathy into desire is uncomfortably accurate, and fingers like bird legs rub over scar tissue, above it onto smoothness, and then below it onto other ( ... )
Reply
And nothing about this music is anything like those bullshit hymns that praise God.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
Both now and always, and unto the ages. Amen.
Fuck no.If he knew how many Biblical references were being used to describe their relationship, he wouldn't nearly look and feel so damn pleased with ( ... )
Reply
As he tugs one corner into position, he murmurs and means,] Whatever you wish.
Reply
It's when he thinks too hard on it that he finds the impurities. If he strains everything too thoroughly, or combs through with too-fine teeth, he'll hit the snags: he'll remember that such sacrilege isn't meant to be revered like this. He wonders if a love affair with an angel would leave him any less likely to rot, and then sets himself to laughter whilst his face goes hidden against Claude's collar bone, just underneath his shoulder. With this, Alois is certain that their sizes are perfect. Claude's body was made for him to nest against. (That's not really an exaggeration.)
There's an amount of greed, he finds, after having seen like demons do. Alois wants to know: how does he look to Claude? He wants to know: ]
What do you look like to you?
[Though blurted thanks to jittery ( ... )
Reply
Reply
The love churning around in his chest is enough to make him dizzy. It's really not fair.]
I'm right here, [he says, and then flushes and thinks it might sound stupid. But- if he is colorful and he is bright, then Claude shouldn't be missing anything at all. He hides himself, or tries to, but speaks again anyway: ] That's not what you look like to me, so that's not what you look like.
[Alois Trancy will be the one to define how exactly Claude's perceived, thank you very much.]My eyes will find what needs to be done and then your hands will do it. It works like ( ... )
Reply
He's salivating when he says,] That's exactly how it works. [His voice is damp with it. He isn't trying to hide it ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment