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writetomyheart2015-02-28 07:13 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-02-28 07:13 pm
Entry tags:
[team sonic] The face inside of me
This story is off the last sentence from the ultra-fast orangegreenlove — you're amazing!
This story was written to an endless loop of Secretly by Skunk Anansie, which is where the title is from as well. Thanks Adele!
“Touch me, fuck me, anything.”
Zitao has been biting his tongue back for so long. Always watching, always waiting, quietly in the corner. Bright lights roll over them, the strobe lights flash over the object of his one-sided desire for so long, and he's finally had enough, finally walking over the dance floor, head spinning with one too many drinks, liquid bravery to prop up his wilting spine. Today I'm not a wallflower. The lights drown the floor in red and his heart's in his mouth but walking up to Yixing and opening his mouth feels like an inevitablity. It feels like he's done this before; a dream of a dream or a past life. He doesn't know the ending but it doesn't matter, he has to do it because he's already done it.
"Touch me," he whispers, as Yixing turns toward the newcomer, with what Zitao hopes is recognition in his eyes. The music pounds, the floor vibrating with a hypnotic beat that permeates his skin, seeps into his bloodstream, fractures his bones; his body slips in behind Yixing, limbs in tandem, the shorter man's head resting in the hollow of his neck for a fraction of a second.
"Fuck me," he begs, not so quietly, as Yixing grinds into the not so subtle tenting in the front of his pants, it's lucky they're so tight but he really doesn't care at this point, he's finally taken the plunge, lept off the Empire State Building, surrendered to the music and the night — his blood is singing as the beat drops and his heart stops.
"Anything." Zitao's voice cracks, the broken pieces falling to the floor to be trampled under intoxicated feet, but before he's lost forever to the waves of pheromones and more illicit substances permeating the air, the slivers of sound are gathered back up together and lifted gently back in to his mouth, tucked into the corners behind his teeth with a tongue as soft lips meet his. Yixing's mouth claims ZItao's for an explosion of fate like fireworks before he pulls back, arms still wrapped around the taller man, their hips still pressed together as the music plucks at their skin, teasing, scolding, but for just this moment, only the two of them exist in silent world, the eye of the dance floor storm.
"I thought you'd never ask," Yixing grins as his lips reach up once again and ZItao melts.
This story was written to an endless loop of Secretly by Skunk Anansie, which is where the title is from as well. Thanks Adele!
“Touch me, fuck me, anything.”
Zitao has been biting his tongue back for so long. Always watching, always waiting, quietly in the corner. Bright lights roll over them, the strobe lights flash over the object of his one-sided desire for so long, and he's finally had enough, finally walking over the dance floor, head spinning with one too many drinks, liquid bravery to prop up his wilting spine. Today I'm not a wallflower. The lights drown the floor in red and his heart's in his mouth but walking up to Yixing and opening his mouth feels like an inevitablity. It feels like he's done this before; a dream of a dream or a past life. He doesn't know the ending but it doesn't matter, he has to do it because he's already done it.
"Touch me," he whispers, as Yixing turns toward the newcomer, with what Zitao hopes is recognition in his eyes. The music pounds, the floor vibrating with a hypnotic beat that permeates his skin, seeps into his bloodstream, fractures his bones; his body slips in behind Yixing, limbs in tandem, the shorter man's head resting in the hollow of his neck for a fraction of a second.
"Fuck me," he begs, not so quietly, as Yixing grinds into the not so subtle tenting in the front of his pants, it's lucky they're so tight but he really doesn't care at this point, he's finally taken the plunge, lept off the Empire State Building, surrendered to the music and the night — his blood is singing as the beat drops and his heart stops.
"Anything." Zitao's voice cracks, the broken pieces falling to the floor to be trampled under intoxicated feet, but before he's lost forever to the waves of pheromones and more illicit substances permeating the air, the slivers of sound are gathered back up together and lifted gently back in to his mouth, tucked into the corners behind his teeth with a tongue as soft lips meet his. Yixing's mouth claims ZItao's for an explosion of fate like fireworks before he pulls back, arms still wrapped around the taller man, their hips still pressed together as the music plucks at their skin, teasing, scolding, but for just this moment, only the two of them exist in silent world, the eye of the dance floor storm.
"I thought you'd never ask," Yixing grins as his lips reach up once again and ZItao melts.