Lullaby by Dark Eos ______________________________________________________________________________ Something Unusual: By: The Cure ~Dark Eos~>
On candy stripe legs The sun had long disappeared over the horizon, leaving only its stubborn remnants to fade into an inky indigo as Dais, the Warlord of Illusion’s large form flickered into existence in the modern world. One place in particular held his attention, the large mansion just outside of Tokyo that the Ronins had come to call their home. He approached the building slowly, but there appeared to be no signs that its inhabitants were still awake. Though it wasn’t that late, he supposed that saving the world would drain some of one’s energy. It was certainly saying something that the activities had put five very rowdy boys to bed so early. But then, he thought with a small grin, It makes things much easier this way. Stealing past the windows Quietly, ever so softly, Dais crept through the hallways of Mia’s rather large house, nearly floating through dark hallways and peering into the darkening rooms through barely cracked doors. Darkness was undoubtedly Cale’s element, but he adapted just as well. Soft, even breathing was the only noise in the house, however slight that was. Inquiring glances into rooms told him which patterns belonged to whom. The quiet, almost petite breaths belonged to Mia herself; as the owner of the house she had the largest room to herself, her slender form barely visible between the gauzy curtains that covered her canopy bed and the soft linen sheets that covered her body. Dais took a moment to appreciate the beauty before him with an artist’s eye; she certainly was lovely, but not what he was here for. Further down the hall, deep, growing breaths alerted him to the presence of the household ‘cat’, Whiteblaze. Stretching his paws and thrashing his tail in his sleep, he made for quite a spectacle, making a small smile cross Dais’ pale lips. The large white tiger remained oblivious to the presence of the strange man in his house, even as he took a large, careful step over his body. Illusions, especially those of perfect peace, often proved useful. If the tiger was sleeping in the hallway, that meant that the door he was curled in front of was Ryo’s, slightly surprising Dais in that the cat was not in the boy’s room. Still, there was a first time for everything. Not wanting to risk the wrath of the tiger for opening the closed door, the white haired warrior stood slightly off to the side, senses wide open to pick up any movement from the closed off room. After a few moments, he was rewarded by the soft rustling of sheets and a long sigh. It seemed that the leader of this rag-tag band of boys wasn’t doing so well in the way of sleep. Certainly it didn’t show in the way he acted every day; Ryo would allow nothing to get in the way of his leadership duties, no matter how reluctant he seemed to take them. Kento and Sai’s shared room was next, Sai’s gentle breathing nearly covered completely by the grumbling snores of his bedmate. To anyone that was unfamiliar with the two of them it would sound like there was only person sleeping in their room. By then, however, Dais was no stranger to the sleeping habits of the household. Dais found his lips curling again as he noted that the pair’s door was cracked, baring all their activities to anyone that would care to watch. That would be him; Sekhmet didn’t accuse him of being a lecherous, perverted voyeur for nothing (though earning the title was well worth it). A peek into the dark room revealed the two to be entangled in each other’s arms, Kento wrapped possessively and protectively around the slighter red haired boy, all the night’s activities obviously done. Neither of those two would be moving until morning. None of this is quite the prey I’ve hoped to snare, though. He moved past the other rooms more quickly. Yuli was of no interest to him and though sleep made Sage drop his icy composure (he was quite a rough sleeper, tangling himself in his sheets), any more distractions would be a waste of time. If he had calculated things perfectly... yes. There it was. The last bedroom door in the hallway, with a stubborn bit of lamp light still shining out from underneath it. As Dais soundlessly approached, it winked out, and the soft sounds of someone settling into bed filled his ears. The soft whisper of sheets against stretches of pale, bare skin...Ah, but I get carried away. Boldly, one long fingered hand grasped the brass door knob, clicking softly as he let himself into the darkness of Rowen’s room. He could tell the boy froze at the first movement at his door, thinking that perhaps a lack of movement would spare him recognition. Such was hardly the case, the bulk of his body buried by blankets from nose to toe would have given him away even if Dais wasn’t already painfully aware of the blue haired boy’s presence in the room. Thankfully, the boy’s back was to him, preventing Rowen from seeing him unless he decided he decided to roll over, not very likely considering the state of the boy’s nerves. Searching out fear The very sound of the door knob had frozen Rowen as he shifted into a more comfortable sleeping position. This was his favorite time of night, quiet and peaceful, a time where he could lay awake and bed and enjoy the serenity that was stripped from his life every day. He had a role to fill, not as a student or a son, but as a hero, a savior. His duty now was to provide cover fire, support, and strategies for the other four boys that shared his responsibility of restoring Japan’s, and likely the entire world’s population to their rightful dimension. It was a bit much for his mind to handle at times, but the fading purple that seemed to pour through his windows allowed him a slight respite from the hectic jumble his days had become. That peace didn’t last very long. Oh God. Oh God... if it was any of them they would have knocked first, I know it! They wouldn’t just have let themselves in. Oh... this is not good. Was it just his imagination, or did he just see something out of the corner of his eye? Was there something large, far too large to be Mia or the boys, too large even to be Kento in his room? He was sure it was more than suspicion, but before he could focus in on it, it moved again, this time decidedly closer to him. Unable to make his body work, paralyzed by this new, unseen terror, (hopefully just another nightmare, his mind whispered) Rowen lay in bed waiting be confronted, or to wake up. And there is nothing I can do As soundlessly as his totem, Dais crossed the distance between himself and the slender, blue haired boy swiftly. All it took was a split second for him to grab Rowen’s wrists from underneath his blanket and wind an illusion around them, as a similar one snaked across his lips. Illusions, all games of the mind. If one thinks he is bound, then for all intents and purposes he truly is. His mind won’t let him move otherwise, so strong is the power of belief. And right now, this delicious boy believes himself to be at my mercy, though believing I have mercy to give isn’t likely to get him any. For a split second twilight eyes widened in total terror before narrowing only slightly in recognition. The core of the terror remained, night-sky orbs looking to the man hovering over him almost imploringly. Pale, slender wrists worked at all too familiar bonds by now, feeling millions upon millions of strands of spider silk caress his skin. Each was so thin on its own, but when woven together made as unyielding of a substance as rope. A similar band, though wider, wrapped around the back of his head and spread across his mouth, preventing him from letting any noise slip past his carefully sealed lips. It certainly worked, at sight of the wolfish, insatiable grin that the blue eyed man was giving him, he surely would have shouted, alerted someone to his presence this time. Still, his jaw was stubbornly held back by Dais’ creation. White hair softly falling from its place behind strong shoulders, Dais shook his head at the boy, pressing one finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. That same finger traced up Rowen’s fine cheekbone, then followed down the strong jaw line, leaving no shortage of goose bumps in its wake. "Again," he whispered to the boy beneath him, neither a demand nor a question, just a mere statement of the way things were. Again. The word brought so many things, fear, apprehension, relief, all knotted up in the pit of his stomach. Still, as the older man ran the back of his hand down the side of his now sensitive face, all those feelings dissolved into the familiar warmth that spread through his body. Then, watching the small grin creeping over Dais’ lips, he knew that despite everything that was coming, it would all be welcome. It always was. How quietly he laughs One white arm slid underneath Rowen’s blanket, fingers brushing against the smooth skin of the boy’s chest, remembering familiar territory as they slid their way down the breastbone, across the smooth ridge of stomach, and down across the elastic waistband of his silk boxers. Not underneath them, it would be far too soon for that. Instead, he continued his path downward, hand gliding along past the barely evident, satin covered curls of blue hair, other hand already peeling the blanket away from Rowen’s lithe body. The boy responded in kind, a cat arching up into strokes for all the control he exerted. This time, the imploring look he received was for a completely different reason; already well muffled growls were issuing forth from Rowen’s throat. Laughing, Dais continued his slow pace down the muscled form. There was so much of a warrior in this boy already, but still so young... so... Submissive, still. The thought rang fondly through the older man’s mind as the shivers his gentle caresses earned delighted his fingers. Gods, but the boy was still so sensitive and his skin so smooth, unblemished even in the face of the battles he had already fought. Delicious! A soft squeeze over the hardening flesh between the boy’s legs turned the more demanding growl into a pleading moan. His fingers finally met flesh again as they descended over the hem of the shorts, and continued downward along the inside of one of Rowen’s snow pale thighs, the simple absence of the boy’s soft skin from his fingers already making him crave more. Dais allowed himself another small chuckle as the bound boy’s skin shivered under his fingers, seeming to try and escape his touch even as the smooth thigh pressed against his hand. Eager was far too light of a word to describe the mood of the boy beneath him. Positively starved was more like it, and being teased with the prospect of everything he wanted, no needed, was pushing him already to the edge of desperation, and Dais hadn’t been in his room but five minutes! The pained moans were becoming much louder, displayed by the fact that they could be clearly heard even with the gag holding them in. If it hadn’t been there, the boy would have likely roused the entire house with his wordless pleas. Not that it did him any good at all, the more he pleaded, the more it seemed Dais was determined to go slower. With agony in his sapphire blue eyes, Rowen stared miserably up at the torturously patient man who was supposed to be his hated enemy, but had instead ended up, most interestingly, as his lover. And softer than shadows The contrast of the single quick movement against the previous deliberate ones caught Rowen completely off guard, leaving him slightly breathless and his eyes widened as Dais climbed up onto the bed and straddled him in one swift motion. A slight gesture of dismissal removed the gag from around his mouth, allowing him a mere second before Dais pounced. Instantly muscled white arms encircled a slightly less pale torso, melding their bodies together in the unmistakable embrace of frequent lovers. It felt like Dais was holding him with more than one pair of arms, determined to engulf him with the sheer force of his body. A spider closing in for the kill. It was the one thought that Rowen managed before Dais’ mouth came down onto his with a force that would leave his lips swollen and bruised for days. That ravaging tongue immediately forced its way past Rowen’s lips, not that they offered much resistance. For a fleeting moment he entertained the idea of clenching his jaw against the invading onslaught of heat and pressure, offering one iota of resistance in his helplessness. The strong hand against his back lifting him further into Dais dissuaded him, however. Why resist something he wanted so badly, something he had been waiting for? The warm pressure of the older man’s body pressed his thinner frame pleasantly into the mattress. The warlord’s white legs were bared along the sides of his thighs; the black silk kimono that he wore had become loose and unbelted, pooling around his knees on either side of Rowen’s hips. His mind still reeled from being taken so by surprise as Dais’ mouth separated from his for a moment, taking time to trail upward across an elegant cheekbone, stopping to plant almost tender kisses on each of Rowen’s fluttering eyelids. I missed you. Rowen would have given innumerable things to have said that simple sentence, but the moment he moved his lips Dais restored the gag. No few of the things he would have given shamed him, but he needed the older man to know how much he wanted him. What had it been, a week and half since he had seen Dais and not been expected to try and kill him? He had nearly driven himself to tears, tears!, waiting for Dais every night, only to fall asleep alone and half fearful that the last time he had seen the warlord would truly be the last. There was no one he could talk to about it either; as understanding and accepting as his friends were he hardly though that sleeping with, being in love with the enemy would be conceivable to them. Just because we believe in different things doesn’t mean we can’t see past that. I see him for the incredible person he is despite the side he’s chosen in this war. And when we beat Talpa’s ass, and I know we will, then he’ll be free of whatever obligations he’s got... and he can stay here with me. One rational part of his brain screamed that those thoughts were foolish; he was entertaining a mere child’s fantasy by thinking the relationship was anything beyond instant gratification. That part was instantly silenced as Dais grabbed his chin, wrenching his head up from the pillow, forcing him to stare straight into that ice blue gaze. That cold eye regarded him with slight disdain and obvious displeasure. Rowen’s eyes widened a bit more in fear again, making Dais break the serious look with a split-second smile. The reactions he could draw from the archer were far too intense and abundant for him to remain displeased long. Still, not wanting to be too lenient, he gave Rowen’s length a rough squeeze through the blue satin of his shorts to bring all of the boy’s attention back on him. He was not pleased by the wandering look in those twilight blue eyes. A million different apologies flickered across those blue orbs; Rowen was eloquent even when he couldn’t utter a single plea. And, as always, Dais heeded not a single one of them. ‘Be still, be calm, be quiet One long fingered hand darted out and grabbed one of the archer’s legs, tossing it up so the ankle rested against his shoulder. As expected, he met no resistance at all, just another pleading look from those soul-baring eyes. Then, drawing his hand back, he placed a stinging slap on Rowen’s fine white skin, right beneath where the shorts had ridden up to. The webbing of the gag suppressed a yelp from the boy, and Dais landed another blow on the undefended flesh, it’s color turning to a nice, warm pink, bringing another satisfied smile to the warlord’s lips. "Rowen," he whispered into the soft curve of the boy’s ear. It was one of the few times he had managed to say the archer’s name, somehow attaching it to him made things far to real for comfort. The nights with the boy were pleasant and dreamlike, but using his name, the name of an enemy, took some of that ethereal quality away, making their time together feel terribly finite. He shook off the sudden sense of fate that washed over him as he recognized the expectant look in Rowen’s eyes. "You need to learn to pay better attention to me. I don’t like having to re-gain your focus," the older man growled slightly, pushing himself down onto Rowen’s body with a bit more force. A slight trailing of fingertips over the archer’s sealed lips dissipated the gag once more. "I should have it always." That sentence started another round of ravaging kisses, Rowen throwing himself into them with nothing less than abandon. The warm burning on the inside of his thigh was soon forgotten as Dais’ warm tongue made a detailed exploration of his mouth, shoving his own tongue out of the way as the warlord ran his own over the slick inner surface and rows of white teeth. Those callused white hands were caressing him again, with slightly more force and desire moving them than before, pausing only at his legs to spread them apart so Dais could slide between them and onto his body, kimono falling from strong shoulders only to be shrugged off onto the floor. Only the thin satin of Rowen’s boxers separated them as Dais pressed his broader hips against his, pressing the two of them together, a torture in the face of Dais’ ungodly patience. The present wasn’t so bad, just knowing how long it was going to take to get the other man inside him that was the true test of patience. Still, Rowen noted as he tested his wrists against his bonds again, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. For it’s much too late to get away Dais pressed himself down against the boy’s hips again, pleased by the hardened length he felt press into him through the flimsy fabric. Rowen’s head fell back against the white cotton covering of the pillow, having been released by Dais, his short blue hair spreading out against it like a lone patch of sky surrounded by clouds. As he rubbed himself against the pliant body beneath him, those cerulean blue eyes fluttered shut and a single, low moan escaped the boy’s lips. The warlord continued to rock himself mockingly against the half-bucking hips beneath him, slowly picking up momentum as he pressed himself against the soft flesh and fabric beneath him, building his own arousal as he teased the boy’s. Dais was far too much of a voyeur by nature; he wasn’t going to relinquish the opportunity to watch Rowen even if it meant putting off being inside him. The boy beneath him continued to moan out his desire, sometimes holding in half-sobs as their hips and desires met perfectly, only to slide away from each other again. The longing in him had accumulated to a very distinct ache right between his legs, and one of Dais’ artist’s hands softly squeezing his ass, pushing him further into that teasing warmth and pressure certainly wasn’t helping any. Cracking his eyes slightly, he noted that the older man was still staring at him, seemingly gauging every one of his moans and writhes with an amused face. He recognized the desire starting to flare in that icy eye though, like the hottest blue at the center of a flame. Gods... if it could only mean that relief would come sooner! It didn’t matter that he was being too impatient... if he could only make himself enticing enough to make Dais want him even more... Arching his back up into the white haired man again, he begged every way he could, from faint panted ‘please’s to the steady rocking of his body in time to the dominant man’s movements . He groaned, pushed, caressed every available surface of his lover’s skin the best he could, his wrists bound and hands clenched to the headboard of his steadily swaying bed. Thank god that his mattress didn’t squeak, or the entire household would know what was going on, making a hell of a lot of explaining necessary. Striving to make every available inch of skin come in contact with the warlord’s whiter flesh, the blue haired boy continued to press himself up and up into those teasing hips, the even warmer pressure of the hard sex there. He could feel himself already beginning to sweat with the effort, another glance up at Dais revealed that his white bangs were already plastered to his forehead with dampness caused by restraining his own desire. Rather suddenly he hit the older man in just the right place; Dais forced his hips down onto his with crushing force, already heavy breathing forced into panting growls. The hand that he had been using to softly massage the muscled curve of Rowen’s ass immediately went to steady those rapidly bucking hips. He had to slow the archer down, lest the Rowen’s impatience rob them both of the drawn out pleasure that was rightfully theirs. The boy could push him over the edge far sooner then even Rowen expected, and he would do anything for the boy except deprive him of the proper experience that he should be having. So still those hips he did, even though he immediately missed the wonderfully swift pace they were building together. The wait will be worth it, he forcibly reminded himself in the face of the rather persistent ache he was feeling right at the base of his sex. The wait will be worth it. He used his free hand to trail up the perfectly muscled chest, zigzagging over every rib along the way, up to one pale pink nipple. Softly, he ran one fingernail over it, delighting in the way Rowen’s entire body rocked up into the one simple touch. Again, he caressed it with the slightest bit of nail; this time Rowen started a half-growl in the back of his throat, appearing to make him purr. Absently, Dais wished he still had both his eyes to witness the spectacle the blue haired archer was making of himself. All that damp, glistening white skin, long, lithe limbs, and sweat matted sky blue hair was far too beautiful to be properly beheld with just one. Pangs of desire sweetened the experience, making waiting almost painful. Watching this beautiful creature, this hungry, lustful boy and not allowing himself to have him was nearly driving Dais insane. No matter how much that boy wanted it, nor how much he wanted to, he was going to make them both wait. The dual torture was beyond intoxicating. It saturated the rest of his senses; the moans, light touches, and the heavy smell of desire and sweat mixed with the sweet smell of fresh air that Rowen always seemed to bring with him seemed to come at him from all sides. The desire was becoming more than an ache now, and increasingly harder to control. Rowen was having no less trouble with his, his entire body as taut as his trademark bow, and arched up into Dais’ at almost the same curve. ‘More’ escaped his lips every other breath, the ones that were not occupied by those half-choked sobs Dais had come to love so much. Yes, he was more than pleased, and Rowen was certainly going to know it. And it feels like I’m being eaten This time he ran an entire fingertip across the hardened bud of flesh; Rowen practically screamed in expectancy and suppressed want. Crystal tears finally started to trail down now heat and desire flushed cheeks, outlining razor fine cheekbones in the low light coming in from the uncurtained window. All at once, the slight barrier of satin was far too much, a single movement stripped it from the boy’s body, and he instead encased the boy’s throbbing organ with his hand. Rowen nearly died as the warmth of Dais’ hand finally surrounded him, starting in on a rhythmic pumping that was just as torturous as the teasing of his hips, but somehow far more welcome. He arched his head even further back, not knowing what to do with the rest of himself, only caring about the pulsing part of him that held Dais’ immediate attention. Seeing an instant opening, Dais lowered himself down onto Rowen’s chest again, burying his mouth in the curve that marked the transition of neck into shoulder. Sharp teeth embedded themselves there as well, mouth working and sucking at the soft skin of the junction, wringing almost pained cries from Rowen every time he allowed his tongue to caress the patch of tortured flesh. It felt so damnably good that Rowen couldn’t even manage to argue that one of the other boys might see the tell-tale hickey and wonder how he got it. He doubted Dais would care if they did. Still not satisfied, the warlord moved his mouth up along the curve of the younger boy’s throat, then back down the curve of his shoulder again, covering the soft skin with nips and bites, sometimes stopping to suckle bits of sweet, clean white flesh. Innumerable little red marks with a few of a deeper purple scattered across the fine pale surface, turning Rowen once again into a living work of Dais’ art. His hand continued to work at the silken heat against his palm, every slight movement causing another sharp bucking of the boy’s body into him. White fingertips ran up the underside of the thickened shaft from the very base, stopping to tease the ever so sensitive ridge right beneath the head, only to close around it and squeeze all the way back down. He repeated the motion over and over, sometimes running his thumb over the sensitive slit at the very tip before sliding back down the boy’s length, a gesture that gained him countless gasps and cries, making Rowen’s entire vocabulary desert him. The archer spread his legs even further, something that until then had seemed impossible, every conscious thought he had going into keeping himself from screaming. Dais encircled him with a ring made of his thumb and forefinger, and was massaging him, tightening his fingers the further down he went, pace rapidly quickening. Had Rowen been standing, his legs would have buckled beneath him from the touch, though Dais was still moving far too leisurely for him to attain any real gratification. Instead, his long thighs wrapped around the waist of the beautiful man atop him, and pulled his body closer to his. Dais lurched and fell forward, the unexpected force breaking his grip on the boy and toppling him down onto him. He stared into that beautiful face for a moment, falling in love with the boy again as easily as he had the first time. He truly could deny him nothing at that moment, and it was that moment that Rowen chose to make his final plea. "Fuck me," he whispered, glowing blue eyes glittering with tears, skin opalescent with sweat. He stared up at the man above him, half adoringly, half with nothing but bare need, who stared down at him with an expression of sheer wonder. "Please!" Dais could do nothing but oblige. Immediately his hand went to the floor underneath the nightstand for the bottle of lotion that Rowen kept there, normally for dry skin but on nights like this for something completely different and much less innocent. The smell of aloe filled the air as he quickly spread it across his palm and fingers, and then across his own hardened length. The excess he used to swirl around and just inside the soft muscle of Rowen’s entrance, making the boy cry harder and squirm with unsated lust. He had to wrench his hand away quickly to thwart the desire to plunge his fingers into to the boy right then and feel the tightness that rightfully belonged to another part of his body. The second those probing fingers removed themselves from his body, Rowen began to cry in earnest, body, heart, and soul aching all with the same incredible, uncontrollable desire. His breath panted out nothing but a mantra of "I want you, I want you’, and his legs tightened even more around the warlord’s waist as he felt Dais center himself. All it took was one simple push, and his body immediately welcomed the pulsing, throbbing heat that took him over. He nearly started sobbing uncontrollably as Dais pulled back, nearly all the way out of him, before slamming up into him again, wringing a pitiful cry from his throat. Again, nearly all the way out, only to find the white haired man buried fully to the hilt inside of him, hitting every perfect spot on the way in and out, making his vision blur and spin. God, he was meant to be there. Against his will and the weight of the other man atop him, his hips began to buck in an almost violent rhythm, pulling Dais deeper inside him than either of the pair thought he could go. Rowen let out a soft scream, for once not caring who heard, bracing himself against the headboard and literally impaling himself on Dais’ length, which steadily began to move faster and faster inside him. Once the blue haired archer tightened around him, pulling him down and forcing himself so far onto Dais that the older man nearly lost his balance, the warlord completely abandoned his games. The need was far too great for anything but each other. He thrust himself into that maddening, blinding heat with every pull of Rowen’s muscled thighs, rapidly becoming quicker, less controlled and more intense. Each push wrung a sharp wail from the boy beneath him as he hit that all too familiar spot deep inside the boy’s body. There was nothing at that moment but that heat, that particular scent, and the soft friction of two bodies that threatened to any moment melt into one another and become a single being. Dais hastened his thrusts to a near impossible speed, arching his own back down into the boy as Rowen curved his lithe body up into him. Rowen’s body constricted tighter and tighter around him, smooth walls of his insides insistent upon squeezing everything they could out of him. The boy’s body was practically a perfect arch up off the mattress, his feet finally dropped off of the older man’s waist to brace his feet against the bed and open himself further to the onslaught of Dais’ attentions. Gods how Dais loved that boy, that body, taut but completely willing to accept whatever pace he set for it, even if it meant keeping him poised precariously at that edge, no matter how hard he wanted to fall. He forced one of his hands up underneath Rowen’s chin, angling his face so that they were staring each other straight in the eyes, though Rowen’s twilight blue were half lidded and glazed, brows knitted in and expression somewhere between torture and ecstasy. The mere hair’s breadth change in pace was all it took to send both of them toppling over that edge together. Dais’ body took over for him, finally refusing to obey his commands, and his final few strokes were just as frantic and erratic as the boy’s beneath him. That triggered a violent release in Rowen that clenched his entire body around Dais’ sex with the force of a vice, causing his entire world to wash out into white, Rowen’s face fading from view as the orgasm took him so completely by surprise. He could tell that Rowen was seeing stars; the glazed, stunned look in his eyes certainly said that he wasn’t seeing anything else. For just a second, he allowed himself to lay there and enjoy the silence, the sense of satisfaction and completion he had made for the two of them. His lover certainly was; the boy had nuzzled up into Dais’ shoulder, and when he finally dismissed the bonds that held his arms they wrapped around him, settling softly against the warlord’s muscled back. Rowen contented himself with simply breathing Dais in, his distinct scent a mix of midnight and some sort of exotic spice, maybe something blooming. Something familiar that Rowen couldn’t quite put his finger on, still marking his lover as Dais all the same. The only thing spoiling the entire scene was the stubborn light of the coming dawn invading through the window, reminding Dais of just how long he had spent in his lover’s arms. Slowly, with a groan more of mental reluctance than pure physical exhaustion, he pulled himself up and away from Rowen’s warm body. Those strong archer’s arms twitched once as if they wanted to reach out to him, but could no longer find the energy to do so. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, separating his purple aura from the swirl of dark blue and violet their separate energies had become. He sighed once, longingly, brushing sweaty blue bangs away from where they stubbornly insisted upon hiding one of Rowen’s beautiful blue eyes from him. "I have to go now," was all he could make himself say to the boy staring up at him. They both knew there was no other alternative, no possible way for them to be together. Not then, and maybe not ever. But Dais left a few swirls of purple in with the sapphire of Rowen’s aura, marking the boy as his, regardless. He ran his hand over the side of one smooth cheek for one last time, and planted a final, almost chaste kiss on the boy’s lips before standing up off the edge of the bed and turning his back on the tangle of sheets and limbs he was leaving behind. Once he made up his mind to go, he couldn’t risk looking back. Rowen immediately felt the emptiness that settled in on him as Dais separated himself from the knot of limbs they had become, not just physically, but mentally. The icy wall was back up between them, and the next time that they were face to face they more than likely would be fighting instead of kissing. This time, he couldn’t help but say it. Every chance may be his last. Breaking the ice, he whispered into the silent air. "I love you," Rowen whispered to the retreating weight off the side of his bed. The shadow of his lover seemed to give no notice, gathering his kimono and preparing to retreat as quickly as the sun was beginning to pour into his bedroom window. He would have said it again, he wanted to, but could no longer muster the strength to keep his eyes open let alone make his mouth work. Sleep came and wrapped him in only a half welcome embrace, but just before the last of consciousness faded from him, he thought he felt a cool, cobweb light kiss on his forehead. And at that moment he knew, that whether Dais had heard or not, he would be back. After all... The spider man is always |
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