OF LOVE, CHERRIES AND THE WORDS NEVER TO BE SPOKEN 2/2
MANA + HIZAKI FICTION
This is the second part of my psychological quest into the heads of Mana and Hizaki having a romantic relationship. However, this part mainly includes the sex... Again, point of views change and Hizaki speaks in italics.
I recommend to read the first part if you havent yet!!! http://deusssexmachina.livejournal.com/5765.html

I love the look in your round almond-shaped eyes when you´re wavering on the thin line between decency and lust. You bite your lover lip, covering those supposedly innocent orbs with richly painted eyelashes, yet the battle thats going on inside your head is still visible on your restless facial features. Finally, a smile lightens up your face, letting me know your wanton side has won. Hardly capable of breathing, I watch you crack-open two reces of the sweets with your sharp teeth, the filling smeared all over your lips. Instead of licking it off, you look at me provocatively with your mouth half-open, letting the alcohol drip down on both sides of your neck. Making it a show for my pleasure. Shaking your head, you allow the fluid to slowly slide down your nape and pool in the sweet spot I had just bitten and covered with kisses a while ago. Then, you push your hair away from your face and use the fruits as earrings. It makes such a precious sight that I´d eat you up that very second, if… If I didn´t need to know so desperately what you are going to do next, how far your lust will push you, how faw your chastity will allow you to go. Yes, I am anticipating your every movement not only with my eyes that follow your hands hungrily wherever you decide to take them, but also with my entire body, subconsciously moving as you move, taking a deep breath whenever your own chest rises. It is a feeling not unlike the one I experience at the very beginning of a live show… when the lights have dimmed, the audience has taken a collective breath, and the first beats of drums fill the air with pure power. In such a moment, you can feel those single sounds resonating in your chest, and it takes all the self-control you have to stand still, patiently waiting with your hands twitching – craving to touch your guitar. All you want is to finally… let it out. Except, of course, my pants are usually not this tight in the crotch during a live, and the level of desperation isn´t quite the same. I peel the long skirt off your body to expose more of your skin, relishing in the fact that except for the sheer silken stockings, you aren´t wearing any lingerie. You lift your hips slightly, then legs, all to make it easier for me, while your hands are still busy adorning your neck and chest with sticky decorative spirals. The skirt having been tossed aside, my eyes immediately want to linger on your newly uncovered most private places. However, instead of that, they are momentarily captivated by the cherry you have intricately placed into your navel. Reaching into the bowl becomes more and more complicated for you, because quick movements could destroy the artwork you´ve already created. Aware of this, I rush to help, holding it up for you. Its only now that I notice how badly my hands are shaking with supressed desire. Your own hands are dancing over your lover belly now, until you finally touch yourself -there-, providing a show that makes me bite down a moan. The visuals are almost too much to take: melted chocolate smeared over your completely hairless pubic area, thin fingers ghosting over your sack, your moderately-sized but wonderfully shaped penis glistening with a combination of whiskey-cream and pre-cum, a single vein throbbing on its side. As you fondle yourself, only my previous firm decision that it must be your hands to undress me and your lips to enclose around my arousal keep me from touching myself in a similar way. Your inner thighs are coated with sweetness, too, and finally there´s only one place left untouched. Until the last moment, I am not sure whether or not you will persuade yourself to take the final step. My eyes wander back up to look into your face. Instantly, you close yours, much like a child who believes that if you can´t see the others, they cannot see you either, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks. It is against your nature to display your body in such a way, and your innocence makes this act even more valuable. Almost reluctantly, you rub the last candy between you fingers and slowly bring them back down again, drawing a sticky line across the soft skin between your legs, stopping at the entrance into your body. Lips quivering, I notice you have taken a deep breath before smearing the remainder of the liquid around and over the tight opening. For a moment, the tip of your index finger disappears inside, which is the last drop that pushes me over the top. I wince a little, slightly surprised be the force with which you straddle one of my legs and pin my arms down, toppling the now empty bowl. Neither of us turns head to see if it has broken, because you have already claimed my lips in a violent kiss, which I return with equal passion. It is a battle for dominance that ends with droplets of blood glistening on your upper lip. Only then we slow down and you allow me to kiss them away from the tiny wound in exchange for a taste of the sweet cream I have coated my mouth with. Not parting from my skin for a second, your lips descend upon my neck, covering it with butterfly kisses, purposedly only touching those places that I´ve painted on, showing me that I will indeed get my reward: Exactly what I had earned, nothing more, nothing less. In all honesty, I am not sure what it is you do to me, but within a few seconds, I feel like I have melted into a helpless puddle… while a little while ago, I still hated you for what you forced me to do. Yes, hated you for making me present myself like a slut, for feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, for the sticky mess down there that keeps reminding me of what I did, and for the fact that I must hate even myself, because in the end it was ME who made the choice to oblige in expectance of the sweetest things to come. Yet as soon as I feel your breath ghosting over my skin, your tongue dancing so skilfully across my neck up to the ear, lips picking the cherry I left there for you, I forget about it… and I forgive you. By the time you move to the other ear, I have already forgiven myself, too. And when your tongue slides across the collar bone to circle my nipple, I am ready to believe that being a whore for you is what I´ve always longed for. Then, your lips enclose around my nipple. The next station is oblivion. My breath is coming out in short spasms as I feel the suckling, gentle biting and blows of hot breath being switched repeatedly, yet always unexpectedly. Only in the corner of my mind I take in the constant friction of your groin against my leg. The rest of my brain is occupied with the beautiful sensations coming from the other nipple that´s being ravished now, while the first one still stands erect, pleasantly tingling and red. My back arches against my will, as if my body didn´t belong to me anymore… and in fact, it doesn´t. As your tongue slides down, picking the cherry from my navel, I realize that it belongs to you, completely, from the straining muscles up to the very last drop of blood in my veins. You have claimed it with the softness of your tongue. Even my breath belongs to you... maybe that´s why I can´t find any, when your lips hesistantly touch the tip of my penis. Hot, seductive, teasing, making me beg you to please please just take me into your mouth right now, you circle the shaft with your tongue, looking up with an expression that makes me produce a glutteral moan. There can hardly be anything more arousing than the sight of your eyes, coated with heavy make-up, slowly turning upwards to check whether or not I am enjoying myself… combined with those famous lips of yours forming a heart around the most sensitive part of me. Unwilling to finish what you had started, your mouth lingers there only for as long as necessary for cleaning up the chocolate-cherry mess. As soon as the last sticky drop is gone, you let me slip out, nowhere close to release, and begin to collect the sweetness from my balls. I would have smiled, if my lips weren´t latched on the smooth hairless skin of your sac, because your little disappointed whimper announces just how much you are aching for something that would push you over the top. And you have no clue that I´m not going to give it to you for a long time. You spread your legs for me, unobtrusively urging me to proceed towards the entrance into your body. For a while, I amuse myself with the thought that we could leave this out and use the cherry cream as a lubricant, but in the end I decide against. I couldn´ t take this away from you. We both let our eyes fall shut, memorizing the sensations – the slippery heat inside of you, the cautious strokes of my tongue around your spasming perineum, the sweet sounds you make as I taste you, pushing in carefully, the smell of chocolate, cherries, olive soap and pure sex, the rustling of the sheets under your back that you can´t prevent. And while moving my tongue in an out, my fingers curl around your penis, drawing more moans from your throat. I find myself at the cusp of a very sweet release, when you unexpectedly pull away, licking your lips for the last time. Slightly confused, I blink twice before focusing on the lust-laced fascination in your eyes. „There is something I need help with…“ you manage to whisper without having to gasp for breath in the middle of the sentence, hand motioning in the direction of your black dress pants. I nod feverishly, about to tear the obstructive piece of clothing into reces, because I need you NOW. Yet you catch my hands into yours and remove them from where they belong. „With your mouth“, you order. The passion in me slowly transforms into desperation and I shiver a little, knowing it will take lots of time before you make me yours. Swollen lips have not mastered the art of undressing yet, although you have asked for this little treat a few times in the past. However, there´s no choice. With some difficulty, I close my lips around the button on your pants in attempt to push it through the small hole with my tongue, wetting the fabric in the process. After much straining, I can finally proceed to pulling down the zipper with my teeth. It must be done with great care, because you´re so hard it probably hurts. I can feel that with my lips through the black cotton… and it is unexpectedly erotic. My effort reveals tenting underwear – black silk and lace, something I would wear. For some reason, I am delighted that you choseto wear tthis flimsy piece of clothing as a sole reminder of the way you used to dress before I evaded your life. Then, of course, its removal is even more of delight… The button holes on your shirt are way too tiny, which makes me give up before even trying to get you rid of said clothing article without violence. I simply bite the tiny buttons off, one after another, spitting them out onto the floor. One or two accidentally land in the empty bowl, which makes you chuckle. Finally, your body presents itself in front of my eyes in its naked glory, white skin glowing in invitation. Your body isn´t just hard muscles like I´ve observed with other men… neither is it skin and bones like mine. Your legs are long and elegant, shoulders and upper arms strong from holding the guitar for years, the waist deliciously slim, yet when I hold you, your hips, your inner legs, your ass, your back, all is covered with soft flesh and delicious skin. Everything about you was made to be loved. Ironically, it is the only hard part on you that recieves my attention first. Yet you only allow me a taste of your essence before pushing me back into the sheets, burning with the same need that is nestled deep in me. Without being asked, I authomatically open my legs and hook one of them over your waist in silent invitation. Surrender to me, my dark prince… Plunge into me, more, deeper, become a part of me, till the end of times. Can you hear my moans? It´s music composed and performed only for your body, for the flawless aristocratic elegance tained by wild passion and bondless desire. For your dark eyes that seem to be changing colors in the dim light, burning trough my skin, peeling of all my layers as if they wanted to see right into my heart. If they did, you would find out it is beating only for you. In that very moment, the last candle burns out and everything becomes dark and heavy and muffled. I love it, for It meants I am completely enveloped by you – body and spirit, and your glistening eyes are the only source of light. They have become my world, my private universe. The readiness with which you subdue to my needs never fails to amaze me. In the moments when our collective passion is at its peak, you are as far from the innocent boy I´ve always deemed you to be as possible. And as I inch myself into your tight heat, my head sometimes fills with various fantasies and wild images of the two of us having sex in all kinds of forbidden places: on the marble floor in my kitchen, in the public showers when the concert is over and everyone else has gone home (or maybe hasn´t), stroking each other to completion under the table of one of those expensive restaurants, and maybe even having a quick number in the elevator of the kind that you can manually stop between floors. Of course, such perverse thoughts are not meant for your ears. As much as I like to indulge myself with them, I know too well that asking you to try them out would be degrading for both of us. Our bodies are moving in complete unison, and with each trust, I feel a little brush of your breath on my cheek. I thrust up, and your perfect little body meets every movement with equal conviction, equal force. Deep in my mind I replay the moment when I entered you and your eyes widened with what seemed to be surprise… amazement that such a thing exists in this world. I bend down to your face, aiming to find your lips, tongue demanding entry, which you grant with an exquisite whimper. Wanting to silence you, I capture your decadent lips in a hungry kiss, tongue moving in and out of your mouth, picking up the rhytm with which I´m entering and leaving your body. There´s a sweet moment when you place my hand onto your flushed cheek, rubbing against it attentatively. A gesture that makes me smile from within. „My darling…“ I crush those words against your lips, „…my sweet little princess…“ If only you knew… If only you knew I´m not so little. Not as young as you like to see me by far. Would you still love me if I told you that I have become twenty-nine only for your sake, to feed the image of youth and beauty you´ve created of me in your head? That I would have gladly presented you an even lower age, if not for the fact that my long career in the music business could have easily given away the outright lie, had I told you I was twenty-four? That I am, in fact, older than you – less than by a year, but still…? I think not. I´m living on a borrowed time, because every lie comes out sooner or later. What will happen then, I do not know, but I fear it will be the end. Maybe this is the reason why I can never get enough of you. No matter how intense our lovemaking is, I always want MORE. „More! Deeper!“ Both your legs have come around my waist – when exactly, I never really noticed – and now they are squeezing me almost painfully, forcing me to pick up a quicker pace. I oblige, and those deep but hastily irregular strokes promply bring me closer to the edge. Your whimpering becomes almost screaming as I brush your spot repeatedly. We are so close to each other that your lips can touch my neck when you pull me down a bit. Your hands are brushing my hair, exposing the tempting line of my neck, to which you latch immeditely. Now it´s my turn to moan in expectation, for you haven´t forgotten my needs. Just before release, you will give me what I desire. We are both very close. I find it hard to breathe, your fingers are clenching with a bruising force on my thighs. I slide out of you almost entirely only to strike home with renewed force. And in the moment when I hit your sweet spot, I feel you sharp little teeth in my throat, at first barely scraping the surface. Not enough. My entire body is on fire and this feeble teasing cannot quench it. I pull out again, and this time, as I penetrate your body, your teeth sink into my flesh. I can feel the pressure on my skin and the exquisite pain of it being torn… enough to enable me to imagine that my vampire games are more than just a fantasy, that this night is more than lovemaking. As I move in you, you can feel my quickened pulse under your lips, my life force is in your possession as your body is in mine. The motion enlarges the wound, but you don´t allow me to free myself… Not until I feel you spasming around me. Not until my world, too, explodes in fantastic colors, overwhelming the senses… followed by a merciful black-out. It takes a good while to regain any sense of the reality. Or better yet – any sense at all. Surprisingly enough, taste comes first. Single ruby droplets have gathered on my lips – nectar of gods, vampire tears... I lick them away as you moan into my ear, whispering something I don´t understand. Fascinated, I watch a crimson trail make its way down your torn throat, sliding across your shoulder before it touches the bedding where we lay with tangled limbs, forever violating its light blue color. You whispered something… what was it? It could barely be considering a whisper, more like a disruption of airwaves in the form of syllables, but I know there WAS something. Please, please repeat your words. I need to have a confirmance that I didn´t misunderstand, only that will allow me to be truly happy. Please, say it again, or else I will have to ask you myself… I cannot bear the silence for long. Without thinking, I utter in a hoarse voice: „Are you mine…?“ A short, almost satisfying „yes“ comes back in reply. You are trying to catch breath, your body exhausted, resting in a slightly unnatural position under mine. The air smells of the sin we have just experienced. Our hands still occasionally wander over each other´s bodies, as if it wasn´t over yet. I press my lips to your shoulder in a silent thank-you kiss, and you pay me back with a soft smile, petting my hair. Only now, while trying to relax, I notice the discomfort of my salty sweat burning in the wound you left on my neck. I touch it with one finger, probing how bad it is, and you tiredly open your eyes, watching me with what can only be identified as compassion. Then, kitten-like, you lift your head from the pillow and begin to lick at the torn skin. Long, determined strokes of the tongue. „Does it still hurt?“ you ask after a while. I shake my head. „You made it all better.“ You giggle in reply, falling back into the pillows in relief. In the post-orgasmic afterglow, I gently lay my head, cheek down, upon your supple chest. Both of us are still slightly messy, glistening with sweat, but in the moment, I don´t mind any discomfort – after all, it´s so unimportant in comparison with the bliss we just shared. I am sure that my joy, the pure energy born from our lovemaking, is so obvious that it penetrates my white skin, wanting to shine, raw, needy. In the feeble light of the dying candles, I glow more than their flickering flames. Even my heart is overflowing with bewildered emotions that seek to spill out. In this moment, fuelled and inspired by the sacred and sinful act, it seems that I could finally find the right words to tell you just how much I love you, how deeply I admire every fibre of your intricate being, how estatically happy you make me every minute of my life by simply existing, by being who you are, how lucky I consider myself for having met you and for having won your heart over, and how unworthy of being loved by someone like you I deem myself to be. I could pay you thousands of compliments now, or promise to bring you all the stars from Heaven, if that is what you desire. I could whisper sweet nothings into your lovely ear till the morning, share all my secrets and answer all our questions. In fact, I crave to do all this! With unusual decisiveness, I gently touch your bare shoulder. „Hizaki…?“ There is no answer though, not even a small movement. Your breath is even, deep and barely audible. „Princess…“ I try again, voice shaky, just to make sure. Nothing. It makes me smile. It´s moments like this what makes me realize that sometimes, despite your fragile and feminine looks, you are still primarily male, for only a man could fall into such deep sleep immediately, exhausted by our lovemaking. Somehow, waking you up only to be able to spill my heart out to you, while your mind, still half in slumber, wouldn´t even manage to capture all that is on my mind, doesn´t seem right. Maybe this is how it should be. Words would only spoil this moment. And perhaps, I will find courage to overcome my silence another time, again… I believe in perfect moments… do you? Everything happens in life, eventually. When the time is right. With that, I place a gentle kiss into the velvet of your blonde locks and allow my body to rest, entwined with yours. Taming my breath with well rehearsed perfection, eyes tightly shut like so many times before, I lay in complete silence. Feeling. Listening. I can´t help it… Pretending sleep has developed into being one of my favourite ways to get a proof of your love. The first time it happened by random. I was just dozing off, exhausted after a concert and our lovemaking, when I felt it - your eyes on me. I can´t explain what sense exactly I was using then, but I instantly knew you were observing me, taking in every inch of my exposed skin, and the heat of your body coming closer and closer revealed to me that you were leaning down to kiss my hair. It took a level of self control I had never thought I possessed, not to show a sign of lucidity then, but I managed it... fearing that if I were to let you know I was aware of your administrations, you would never find the courage to do it again. So, I wait for the soft touch of your eyes and sometimes your lips, too, nearly every night we spend together… always a bit worried it wouldn´t come, finding myself in utter bliss when it does. I know how much it means to show love to the other in a moment when the beloved person does not know about it. I know it, because I also watch you sleep... in the mornings. My instinct allows me to wake up first to do my bathroom rituals and make-up, so that you would see the face I chose to present to you and not the one I get up with when you open your eyes. Despite of knowing that I have to rush, because you could awaken at any time, I cannot help myself but spend a few minutes looking at your little hands clutching the pillow in the most adorable way, your peaceful pale face, the heavy lashes resting like on your cheeks like fans, lips forming a thin strict line as you´re trying to fight off a dream... wondering if you know how beautiful you are for me. Laying in each other´s arms, we look like a work of art, sculptured by a professional from ancient Greece: the ideal of harmony of beauty adorning both body and soul. Wrapped around your smaller frame, I feel my body relax, limb after limb, warmth spreading through my feet into my legs at first, then thighs, as well as from my fingertips through my arms up to the tense shoulders, until the comforting waves finally meet in the middle of my back, sliding simultaneously up and down the spinal cord to settle down in my lower belly. So good... And in the sweet hazy state between consciousness and sleep, I think I´ve just felt some movement from under my arm where you are nested. Just in case, I whisper: „Good night, princess… Sweet dreams…“ Maybe you can hear me from your peaceful slumber, and maybe you´ve just smiled a little. I´ll never be certain, but I can imagine you have. What I know for sure is that with so many words unspoken, these are the only ones that need to be said to make both of us happy. And so I can fall asleep with the thought that this is perfect. We are perfect. You love me without words. I don´t require it from you to say them. The only thing I want is that you feel it. Yes, sometimes I´d need to hear them, sometimes I´m insecure, sometimes jelaous, but I know it is difficult for you to voice your feelings. It is not because of me, you wouldn´t manage to do it for anyone. I am certain that things that had happened in your past caused that, in the same way how my childhood influenced me. I don´t know what kind of things, though, but one day… one day I will find out, and then, I´ll soothe your pain forever. Then, maybe, I will also be able to tell you what made me what I am. In this hostile world, it is easy and almost unavoidable for a person that stands out in the crowd as much as you or me to feel lonely, forlorn, or despised by the majority. But our perfect union gives our oddities a purpose. It seems our souls and bodies were created this way for a reason, which only becames obvious once we find each other and reach harmony. You need to hear declarations of undying love from my lips for that to happen, and in that I am one step ahead – I am able to offer you as many of those as you desire. But I can´t tell you my secrets. I am not ready, either. One day…Until then, your warm embrace shall be enough of a solace.
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