Author: CadenceM
Title: Poison
Summary: The words for this feeling/can’t be found out… can’t be discovered/I can’t say anything but/now I want to… gaze at you like this.
Rating: PG-13
‘Ship: Just wait and see. ^_~
Notes: The lyrics you see in the little story below come from the translated version of Gackt's "Marmalade".
~~~
These feelings of unrequited love
I can't convey them... I can't completely convey them
No matter how much I search, you
can't be found out... can't be discovered
He watches her from a darkened corner. He can see how her hips sway, how her hair shimmers under the moving lights of the small dance club. He sees her pale skin, and can remember the scent of it. She is his poison, slowly killing him with her salty taste, and yet he always begs for more.
She looks his way, their eyes connecting for a few moments before she breaks the contact. He can see her devilishly seductive smile as she pushes away from her dance partner to disappear into the crowd. He becomes alarmed, standing up straighter, searching for those eyes within the jumble of faces. All he wants is to watch her dance, to watch those beautiful hips in motion all night.
He feels the presence of someone behind him, and he turns to find those eyes again. Sometimes he feels that she can see into soul, that he's always an open book before her. It doesn't matter, for he's always open to her, never hiding. He knows that he doesn't have to say any words; she already knows what he wants, and she's always willing to give it to him.
They kiss, sharing in their hidden avarice, until they can't breathe anymore. She leads him away, and, a car ride and a short walk later, they're in her bedroom. He pulls her close and they dance to the music in their heads. She presses closer, and he can smell her jasmine perfume, the same perfume that she wore the first time this happened.
It isn't much longer before their clothes are strewn about the floor and they're writhing on her bed. They fear to speak; they fear to break the silence, which is interrupted only by their heavy breathing and passion-laden moans. He can only watch her as she impales herself upon him, her face twisted with pleasure. He wants to hold her, to kiss her, to love her for as long as his heart continues beating. But he knows he can't keep her forever; he simply revells in these finite touches, kisses, embraces, and movements while he has them.
She eventually settles down next to him and he waits until she is asleep before he whispers his heart to her.
He awakes first the next morning, yawning and stretching. It's a regular routine. His secret lover will sleep on into the noon, and he will slip out unnoticed. He knows she will wake later, that she will get dressed, that the next day she'll pretend that they hadn't made love.
They act as though this secret life they share doesn't exist. Every so often, he will slip up, as he does now, kissing her forehead and whispering into her hair, "Goodbye, Emma."
A sleepy "'bye, Adam" is his only farewell as goes back to his outside life of a silent war, knowing that she will rejoin him later in the day.
Even though I went back alone
I was a little bit happy
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