A/N: Another LJ drabble For ohmegawd here on FF, too. She's such a sweetheart. So I guess this is part of Lexeaus Awareness Month? -Laugh.- He really does need more love.
Disclaiminess: P'sh. Like I need one. I'mma marry Nomura.
This is only gravity.
The feeling of being underneath the dark, all the night alit with stars that explode before the eyes. The smell, salty and somehow still sweet, the dirty scented honey beneath a tongue too gifted to be real. But that was how they all were: too gifted to be human, too close to God to be an angel, and too near to the devil to be a demon. Not yet human, not yet death.
Sensations that swirl and overcome, sending a red current across reflexes and black splatters on all the joints. Pretty and painted, perfect in each vintage. The lunar draw, the magnetism between lips and hips, everything between collide and depression.
This is only gravity.
Muscles were sculpted in ambiance of deities, hard as those stones in waking suns. Planetary and yet heavenly, earth and moon and all the good things between the asteroid belts. And somehow not just magnetic, but alluring and tempting and … and, god, how beautiful he was when he moaned like that.
Arches of spines and monoliths of pleasure, the ground's effigies reaching and burning to touch that smooth surface, fearing not the sully of that celestial plane. There, where demons slumbered and flower petals floated freely; where everything was right and whole and real.
This is only gravity.
The dysphonic arias, transfixed between to bodies, like unattached lullabies that would pacify no man to sleep. Touch, taste, recoil. Peroration and envoi, dirges moaning and loaning lament, violins carving no epitaphs where their strings. The earth stops spinning when one dies--or … is that the moon in reference?
Gravity, gravity.
This is only gravity.
But I'm not pushing you away yet.