(c) Words Were Meaningless (M-MA)

by **rock and/or roll** Wed 10 Sep 2008, 10:37 pm

Title: Words Were Meaningless
Rating: M or MA.
Author: Me (Smashed Pumpkin)
Status: Drabble/Complete
Summary/Exerpt: Words couldn’t suffice.
Words were empty.
Words were meaningless.

Warnings: slash (Frerard), sex.

Words Were Meaningless.

With the moonlight reflecting off his caramelised irises and the dim white light creating delicate patterns of luminescence over his pale velvet skin, he looked angelic. His skin was smooth under my nimble finger tips, almost sanded back and polished, lacquered, layered with the scent of sweet golden honey. Good enough to taste. Sensual enough to reflect the fermenting lust behind the spider web lashes of his half-lidded eyes. They spoke to me in their own perfect silent language; tongues could be offered up for much more useful tasks.

More.

And I was happy to fulfil his request.
The hip bone cradled like a new born in my spread-eagled fingers moved underneath the skin as he moved with me. All perfect curves and angles, almost ghostly skin. Collision of bone on bone, flesh melting with the intense heat and the pleasurable sounds almost heavy enough to coat our skin in. Our lips connected, once, twice and again and again. The contact was sloppy, dangling with spit and dripping with the impact of cracked smiles, but mystical.

I gave myself to his obvious desire happily. Crashing hips became more brutal, passionate, needy. Bodily juices were swapped instead of words. Words wouldn’t suffice. Words were empty. Words were meaningless.

Just as meaningless as the sounds that made them up. Just as meaningless as the slurred mumble that emitted from Gerard’s panting mouth as he lay, legs tangled with mine, chest pressed against mine. But his eyes were elsewhere. Almost drawn into his skull, dwarfed by the picturesque beauty that was his face.

“It’s the wedding tomorrow.” Still his eyes wouldn’t gaze upon me.

And they were just words. Words couldn’t suffice. Words were empty. Words were meaningless. But it didn’t stop my eyes from becoming wet with pooling tears, my throat tight with restrained sobs.

He could sense it. Even though his pretty thick caramel eyes were elsewhere, he felt the change in atmosphere of the room. A smooth-skinned hand gripped my own and tugged it upwards, away from his perfectly structured hipbone and onto his perfectly sculptured chest. Over his quickly beating heart. And his spider web lashes blinked as he raised his head and looked at me, analysing the contours of my face. No doubt wanting to process everything and store it in his memory.

I love you.

I owned his heart.
But she owned his hand.
checked. pp.J