Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction ❯ 30_Kisses - Glacecest - 19 - Red ❯ Chapter 1

~30 Kisses~

~19: Red~

 

 

 

If these days were to be tinted and I were to look back upon them with rose-coloured lenses, then the rest of my experience would be reduced to monochrome. Those moments which shine are those spent with you, and to think of those... I would not think them rose-coloured, niisan. Darker than that.

 

Red, at its most basic form, would be considered the colour of the blood which runs between us, would it not? That blood which connects us, which drives us. Our blood is shared, niisan. I would press my finger to yours and perhaps we could melt into each other... we are different, yet we are the same. My brother. Do you ever think of that kind of connection...? My blood is your blood. That very basic necessity which keeps us both alive. As it runs through my body, so does it run through yours... I would press my hand to your chest and feel your pulse, be so very glad for the sign of the natural rhythm that keeps you beside me. Here, niisan. My heart beats just as yours does also. Feel it. Isn't that wonderful...?

 

Blood is the force of our life and our life is the force of our passion. I would not see it in any other colour. Red is blood is life, but blood can also have other such interesting effects upon the body... as I would memorize your body I would memorize all which has an effect upon it, and those things that I would do to you which would have an effect...

 

Your lips would be red, would they not? The pressure of being nipped and bitten, the emotion of a kiss... I would explore your lips and mark them as mine, entering them and tasting beyond them, tasting you, niisan... inside you there are all kinds of shades and tints of that colour, are there not? As your lips open and your breath catches on a heady gasp of my name, I would see the darker shades within. I would not be able to resist. I would hold you and kiss you... I may say 'until my desire is sated', but I fear there would never be a time such as that. I simply cannot envisage a time when I would not want you, niisan... everything about you fascinates me so entirely, each gasp and sigh and moan is unique and I would wish to hear all variations... even the way in which you say my name changes with all the different ways I may find to touch you. Let us discover them all, niisan. Let us discover them and treasure them.

 

You sometimes worry about the biting kisses that I leave upon your skin. To kiss gently is to elicit a soft moan from those soft lips, but to press down harder and further and to suck with the possession of wanting to taste you, wanting to know you, wanting to mark you... the blood would be drawn to the surface and leave evidence that I was there, niisan. I was the one to kiss you so harshly. I was the one to taste your skin, to know its smooth texture and to leave it with the imprint of my teeth and the dark print of exactly where I kissed you. You worry in case the others notice. Do not worry so, niisan... such marks won't last forever, and surely the deception also carries a hint of excitement...? Perhaps I would draw pleasure from your uncomfortable feelings. I apologize, niisan. Still, more than once you have been asked by Tira or Chocolat just where those strange marks have come from... it's easy to blame it upon their punishment, but what kind of punishment would leave such marks? You lie and they know that you lie, yet they don't ask further.

 

What kind of explanation would you be able to give them, in any case? You would not dare tell them that they came from such passionate kisses. They would want to know who from. Even if you were to tell them, they would not believe you. I can hear their voices in my mind now, niisan... they would talk about how I'm so quiet and reserved, say that to put the blame of something like that upon me is something so terribly disgusting... perhaps they would punish you. I would heal you afterward. What more could you give them than the truth?

 

What more can I give you than everything than I can offer? If it brings you discomfort then I apologize once more. I'm sorry. Any relationship may bring its hardships yet you never beg for me to stop, do you? Always to continue... your chest would rise and fall so quickly and so steadily alongside cries of 'more', 'harder', 'faster', 'deeper'... 'Marron'... sometimes you cannot even say my name, such is my powerful influence over your body. I love to hear you say my name, niisan. Yet to know I have taken you so far that you cannot even pronounce two syllables...

 

Not everywhere I kiss you is somewhere visible. If I bite and suck against your nipples then they become that wonderful dark red that would illustrate my visit upon your skin. So sensitive. You hold your breath then let it go in hurried gasps, hardly able to even look at me... yet at that moment, I would be all that you would think of... even if it was embarrassing, the strength of the feeling would move you somewhere past mere embarrassment and you would clench the bedsheets in tight hands and want more, more...

 

All that you would request, I would happily give you.

 

I could cover your body in kisses and bites if that was what you desired, niisan. Anywhere your blood would wish to travel, I would follow such trails also. And oh, the rush of blood signifies excitement, does it not? The delirious confusion of a rush to the head, the nervous energy not let unleashed of a racing pulse throughout the body... the place between your legs that would flush with blood and expectant temptation for my touch and sensation. The brazen way you would spread yourself before me and show me, wish for my eyes to linger upon you, wish for me to see just how much I had the potential to move you... each smooth stretch of skin would hold a different shade, from the soft tone of your sensitive inner thigh to the violent desperation to the tip of your erection... and you would be erect for me, niisan. Only for me. You would bid me look and indeed I would, I would gaze and I would stare and I would ogle, perhaps you would be embarrassed yet you would never bid me stop... you would want to be watched, and I would love to watch you.

 

Despite the flagrant emotion of our shared nudity and all the shades of colour the human body may hold upon it... the colour I treasure most is that of your blush, niisan. When you lie on the bed before me, laid back and glancing away, just slightly... you are naked and you are embarrassed. You blush. Your cheeks redden in the knowledge that my eyes would rove every inch of your body with such a voracious hunger... and yes, I hunger for you. I wish to satisfy you, for you to satisfy me... indeed, you satisfy me so wonderfully, yet it is a satisfaction that I would wish never to end... you fulfil me in so many different ways, each way drives me closer to such powerful desire to know all of you, everything about you...

 

I would know the curve of your back as I took you harshly against the desk. Would know your skin to be water-smooth under the constant tiny streams of the shower. Would hold you before me to know your expression on climax, would hold you beneath me to know the sensation of being able to take you so entirely. I would know the way you would press against the mattress, the way you would draw the sheets to your body, the way you would cast them aside... I would see where you had dug your fingers against the carpet as I held you in front of the fire. I would know the pressure caused by holding you between myself and a wall, would know the power of seeing you make such embarrassing poses, would pose for you just the same as you would bid me.

 

I wonder if you enjoy the same things that I enjoy about you. The blushes, the sounds, the touches, the sensations... are they the same for you as they are for me? Do you treasure each detail to memory, or do you allow them to surprise you every time? Do you allow yourself to master your feelings, or do you become a slave to them? We become slaves to each other's pleasure. I do not mind.

 

If everything outside of our relation were reduced to monochrome, then the colour of our passion would have to be darker than that. Dark as the night. The night is where we indulge ourselves most frequently, and for that perhaps the navy darkness of our bedroom could be just as significant... yet somehow that is not the colour I see when joined to you so deeply. To close my eyes so tightly, I would feel the pulse of blood around my body and see warm colours alongside the heat of my body... red is the colour of heat, is it not? To warm yourself by a fire, red and yellow flames flickering their heat... to be hot would redden your skin and make you blush... or perhaps it would be the opposite, the blush would heat you as much as the heat would make you blush...

 

The blood is shared between us and the fire is shared between us also. The fire of warmth, of heat, of lust, of passion... there is no red-hot heat quite the same as the sensation of our naked bodies pressed against each other, the way your body is so tough beneath mine yet so delicate in my eyes... you would be compressed against my body and the headboard of the bed, my movements creating a rhythmic pulse of the wood against the bedroom wall that we would guide our movements by. I would be inside you and that heat would be indescribable, the tightness of you against me, of me within you, that irresistible pressure of that within you which is soft yet squeezing all at once... your muscles are tensed and you hold against me with such strength, yet your skin is still smooth and my touch would be as gentle as I could manage before lust and need would drive me to a more powerful movement...

 

What colour do you see before you in that instance, niisan?

 

Red is also the colour of anger. Perhaps I could agree with that. Anger is still a kind of passion, is it not? Perhaps it is more the colour of the loss of control... I would not wish to control myself when with you, neither would you bid me to do so. Yet I would not only feel deep passion for you when we are alone together... in those times between bright memory would be a colour that burnt in anger, people often describe being so unimaginably angry as 'seeing red', do they not? Outside of the situation I do not know what it would be that I happen to see. Only what I feel. Only that anger, that rush of feeling, that crazy urge to be able to hurt and to punish... those who would bring you pain can never be forgiven, niisan. Those who would aim at you with malice, those who would wish your honest pain.

 

I would bring them a sudden death. Such people should not have a right to live. I would see the colour of anger until I could bring them their punishment, and perhaps I should spill their blood as way of that punishment. The blood would run from their body alongside their life, the blood would cool and the body would become cold. I would not afford them the colour of life.

 

So I would associate such a colour with the rush of emotion. That which is significant to me. To that end... niisan, what colour would you perhaps associate me with? Everything of you seems to become burning, passionate, soft, comforting... you are everything, and everything of you is tinted. I like to think that you would see me similarly. Some people may call me cold... what colour would you associate as being cold, niisan? Is that my colour...?

 

No, that's not it. My colour could not be different to yours, could it? We are the same and we are so joined in many different ways. The colour of passion, the colour of skin, the colour of arousal, the colour of blood... that is our colour, is it not?

 

Even my anger burns primarily for your sake. Therefore it is for you, and it is the same.

 

Everything is for you.

 

Niisan.

 

 

 

~22nd March 2005~