Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Oct. 21st, 2006 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolfsbrideAnd since I haven't updated in almost fifty five weeks, you guys must really love me :D
Anyhoo, what can I say? The usual real life issues multiplied by my innate laziness plus the niggling fact that I'm just typing to myself equals no updates in ages. I could say I'll do better but that'd probably be a lie.
Okay, let's see. *gets out list and crosses off obligatory apology* Check. Next on the list... Inane mumblings.... So here they are!
This week I've been thinking about three things.
1. On Thursday I happened to hear Dolly Parton's 9 to 5 on the radio. It's been ages since I last heard that song. Probably not since the movie came out. I sat frozen in my chair because... OMG!!! That's like so MY THEME SONG!!! Except for the fact that my boss is a woman and not a man, that song totally sums up my working life. Pretty damn sad.
2. I love autumn. I'm curious to see if there are any like minded folks. Show of hands please! *Waits* Maybe it's not so, but I kind of get the feeling that autumn is not anyone's favourite season. Correct me if I'm wrong. Sure it's wet and cold and the darkness encroaches like a beast on the prowl but there's an oak tree in the centrer of our building's circular drive way that's totally red. RED! It looks like the tree is on fire. I don't know what the other trees that line either side of the drive are but they're wearing their best dress as well. Gold, yellow, orange, it's an explosion of colour that in my mind makes up for the wet deary weather. On the days when the sun manages to shyly peek through the clouds and the air is crisp, it's glorious.
3. Keys. On Friday I opened the door to my apartment building, looked at the keys in my hand and suddenly had an epiphany. Keys rule my life. They are tied to the responsibilities I hold. On my key chain, there is:
- the key to the place where I work. This is the place where ninety percent of my obligations come from.
- the key to my mailbox. This is the place where my bills show up.
- the key to the Cub cupboard. On Tuesdays, I go try to teach young boys things about life and the world.
- the key to the YW cupboard. On Sundays, I try to teach young girls the same thing.
The other two keys on my key chain also rule my life in a totally different way. They are the key to get into my apartment building and the key to my apartment itself. Those keys represent my sanctuary.
Okay! Enough of that! On to the frivolities!
Once more this is totally the fault of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nyxmidnight as so many things usually are. She's the one that introduced me to Nocturne after all. Showing me pictures and babbling incessantly. Without further ado, I give you....
Shura lay on his side watching Futomimi. The bed covers where tangled, a mute testament to their earlier loving. A ruffle of cloth draped over Shura's hip leaving the rest of him bare. Next to the bed, Futomimi stood, clothed in his long robe once more. The long thin strip of cloth dangled from his mouth as he quickly gathered his thick hair up on top of his head, twisted and flipped it into his traditional topknot. He finished it off by quickly binding the cloth around his hair. Sighing, Shura trailed his hand up the inside of the leg closest to him. "I like your hair down."
****************
Futomimi smiled down at Shura as he slowly raised his hands to his head. Shura watched wide-eyed as he slowly unwound the long thin strip of cloth that bound his hair. Like water slipping over a fall, Futomimi's hair slithered down around his head to hang shimmering against his shoulders. Shura shivered as the cloth strip was then trailed against his skin before being used to bind his wrists to the head of the bed.
***********
Shura shivered as Futomimi leaned over him. No matter how many times they did this, he always felt like he was doing something slightly wrong. Futomimi was a Seer, a leader, the foundation his people leaned on. He, on the other hand was a nobody. Surely it couldn't be right for them to be together so. And yet it felt so good, like they were meant to be. He sometimes wondered if they were something that Futomimi had seen in one of his visions. It was the only reason he could think of. In spite of Futomimi's 'your heart is unlike any other demon's' speech, he couldn't see that he was anything special.
"You're thinking too much." Futomimi's voice whispered across the skin of his stomach and he trembled.
He shook even harder when Futomimi gathered his thick dark hair over his shoulder and dragged it across his groin. It felt like hundreds of tiny fingers or mouths caressing him all at once. His hips lurched up a bit at the sensation.
"Got your attention, have I?"
Any words that he might have uttered were almost instantly gulped back as Futomimi wrapped his hair around his cock and began to stroke him with it. Oh gods. Digging his fingers into the bed, Shura thrust his hips up while Futomimi's dragged his hand down. And then they reversed. On and on it went. Sharp gasping moans. Soft barely there words. And always in the background that steady rhythmic grip of pleasure.
Shura was never sure which he loved more. Futomimi or his hair.
*************
"Can I..." Shura's gaze darted to Futomimi and away as he shifted nervously. Maybe Futomimi would laugh at him for wanting such a silly thing.
A tiny smile curved Futomimi's lips and he handed Shura the long thin strip of cloth he used to bind his hair. To him his hair was just a part of him. Something that was always there. Nothing special. It amused him to see how fascinated Shura was by it.
Returning the smile, Shura took the cloth and moved behind Futomimi. He frowned. He couldn't wait to get older. Everyone was taller than him, damn it.
As if sensing his problem, Futomimi sank gracefully to the ground. He shook his head, making his hair sway seductively from side to side. He watched Shura out of the corner of his eye, his smile growing a little wider at the sight of him mesmerized by the movement of his hair.
"Shura."
"What? Oh! Right." Kneeling behind Futomimi, Shura placed the cloth carefully over his shoulder. He would need it later. But first. Leaning forward, he gathered handfuls of Futomimi's hair and buried his face in it, rubbing it over his forehead and cheeks. He couldn't get over how soft and silky it was. It felt so good dragging across his skin.
And it was so beautiful to look at too. Sitting back, Shura let Futomimi's hair slip and slide through his fingers and he poured it from one hand to the other. Dark as night but shiny too. Like the sky lit by the moon. It was too bad that Futomimi wore it up all the time.
Pulling himself together, Shura settled down and dragged his fingers through Futomimi's hair with a purpose, combing it for several minutes until it lay flat against Futomimi's neck and shoulders. Sighing at the thought of having to bind all that beauty up again, Shura drew the strip of cloth off his shoulder and held it in his mouth as he had seen Futomimi do hundreds of times.
Slowly, reluctantly he slipped his hands under the heavy weight of hair to Futomimi's neck, rubbing the skin there gently for a few seconds before drawing his hair up to the top of his head. Holding it with one hand, Shura took the cloth from his mouth and wound twice around the base to fasten it and then twisted and flipped the rest of the hair over.
Concentrating solely on his task, Shura, with both hands now free, began the process of weaving the ends of the cloth back and forth, over and under each other to create the body of the tie that Futomimi wore. As he got to the end, he tied the cloth off, leaving the ends to dangle rakishly on either side of Futomimi's head.
Sitting back on his heels, Shura surveyed his work. Sadly Futomimi's hair was now hidden away from his sight. But if there was one good thing to come from the way Futomimi wore his hair, it was the fact that his neck was always bare. Shura smiled as he leaned down to press a kiss against the pale flesh. Having any part of Futomimi bare was always a good thing.
*************
WARNING!!! WARNING!!! CHARACTER DEATH AHEAD!!!
Futomimi knelt beside Shura ignoring the mayhem and destruction all around him. Blood soaked into his robe where he was kneeling. It was not his own. Most of it was that of his enemies. But some, too much, was Shura's.
Sliding one hand underneath Shura's neck, being mindful of his horn, Futomimi raised him a little, pulling him up against his chest. He could sense Collector Manikin in the background, hands fluttering like trapped birds, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. Shura coughed and shifted restlessly, and Futomimi soothed him. "Shh. It is all right. I am well."
Shura relaxed against Futomimi's chest. "Good," he gasped out. Shakily, one hand rose to touch Futomimi's face, making a bloody smear, as Shura trailed his fingers against his cheek. "Let... Let down your hair."
With a sad smile, Futomimi raised his free hand and pulled the tie free. His hair fell down around his face and shoulder, some of it slipping over Shura's face and neck. The smile grew tight as Shura turned his head and nuzzled both Futomimi and his hair.
"Glad you're all right. Got to go now," Shura whispered. His hand fell away from Futomimi's face to lay limply on the ground beside his body.
For a moment Futomimi held Shura tightly, his own face turned to hide in the sleek cap of Shura's hair. Then his shoulders rose as drew in a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he carefully lay Shura down on the ground and sat back on his heels to study his friend and lover.
Rising to his feet, Futomimi snapped his fingers to get Collector Manikin's attention. When the other Manikin came near, Futomimi held out his hand. "Knife." Hesitating a moment, Collector Manikin finally swung his pack down and rummaged through it, drawing out a large dagger which he then handed to Futomimi.
Futomimi hefted it a couple of times, then gathering up his hair, he swiftly sliced the dagger through the thick strands. Handing the dagger back to Collector Manikin, Futomimi bent and retrieved his hair tie. His fingers clenched it for a second and then he used it to tie the cut ends together. He wound it around several times and then tied it off so that the hair was now securely held.
Squatting, he lay the length of hair on Shura's still chest. "Your heart was different from any other demon and you changed my heart as well." He touched Shura's cheek, then stood.
"See to him," he said, as he turned his back on Shura and walked past Collector Manikin. He would not let Shura's sacrifice be in vain. He had a people to save.
Anyhoo, what can I say? The usual real life issues multiplied by my innate laziness plus the niggling fact that I'm just typing to myself equals no updates in ages. I could say I'll do better but that'd probably be a lie.
Okay, let's see. *gets out list and crosses off obligatory apology* Check. Next on the list... Inane mumblings.... So here they are!
This week I've been thinking about three things.
1. On Thursday I happened to hear Dolly Parton's 9 to 5 on the radio. It's been ages since I last heard that song. Probably not since the movie came out. I sat frozen in my chair because... OMG!!! That's like so MY THEME SONG!!! Except for the fact that my boss is a woman and not a man, that song totally sums up my working life. Pretty damn sad.
2. I love autumn. I'm curious to see if there are any like minded folks. Show of hands please! *Waits* Maybe it's not so, but I kind of get the feeling that autumn is not anyone's favourite season. Correct me if I'm wrong. Sure it's wet and cold and the darkness encroaches like a beast on the prowl but there's an oak tree in the centrer of our building's circular drive way that's totally red. RED! It looks like the tree is on fire. I don't know what the other trees that line either side of the drive are but they're wearing their best dress as well. Gold, yellow, orange, it's an explosion of colour that in my mind makes up for the wet deary weather. On the days when the sun manages to shyly peek through the clouds and the air is crisp, it's glorious.
3. Keys. On Friday I opened the door to my apartment building, looked at the keys in my hand and suddenly had an epiphany. Keys rule my life. They are tied to the responsibilities I hold. On my key chain, there is:
- the key to the place where I work. This is the place where ninety percent of my obligations come from.
- the key to my mailbox. This is the place where my bills show up.
- the key to the Cub cupboard. On Tuesdays, I go try to teach young boys things about life and the world.
- the key to the YW cupboard. On Sundays, I try to teach young girls the same thing.
The other two keys on my key chain also rule my life in a totally different way. They are the key to get into my apartment building and the key to my apartment itself. Those keys represent my sanctuary.
Okay! Enough of that! On to the frivolities!
Once more this is totally the fault of
nyxmidnight as so many things usually are. She's the one that introduced me to Nocturne after all. Showing me pictures and babbling incessantly. Without further ado, I give you.... Shura lay on his side watching Futomimi. The bed covers where tangled, a mute testament to their earlier loving. A ruffle of cloth draped over Shura's hip leaving the rest of him bare. Next to the bed, Futomimi stood, clothed in his long robe once more. The long thin strip of cloth dangled from his mouth as he quickly gathered his thick hair up on top of his head, twisted and flipped it into his traditional topknot. He finished it off by quickly binding the cloth around his hair. Sighing, Shura trailed his hand up the inside of the leg closest to him. "I like your hair down."
****************
Futomimi smiled down at Shura as he slowly raised his hands to his head. Shura watched wide-eyed as he slowly unwound the long thin strip of cloth that bound his hair. Like water slipping over a fall, Futomimi's hair slithered down around his head to hang shimmering against his shoulders. Shura shivered as the cloth strip was then trailed against his skin before being used to bind his wrists to the head of the bed.
***********
Shura shivered as Futomimi leaned over him. No matter how many times they did this, he always felt like he was doing something slightly wrong. Futomimi was a Seer, a leader, the foundation his people leaned on. He, on the other hand was a nobody. Surely it couldn't be right for them to be together so. And yet it felt so good, like they were meant to be. He sometimes wondered if they were something that Futomimi had seen in one of his visions. It was the only reason he could think of. In spite of Futomimi's 'your heart is unlike any other demon's' speech, he couldn't see that he was anything special.
"You're thinking too much." Futomimi's voice whispered across the skin of his stomach and he trembled.
He shook even harder when Futomimi gathered his thick dark hair over his shoulder and dragged it across his groin. It felt like hundreds of tiny fingers or mouths caressing him all at once. His hips lurched up a bit at the sensation.
"Got your attention, have I?"
Any words that he might have uttered were almost instantly gulped back as Futomimi wrapped his hair around his cock and began to stroke him with it. Oh gods. Digging his fingers into the bed, Shura thrust his hips up while Futomimi's dragged his hand down. And then they reversed. On and on it went. Sharp gasping moans. Soft barely there words. And always in the background that steady rhythmic grip of pleasure.
Shura was never sure which he loved more. Futomimi or his hair.
*************
"Can I..." Shura's gaze darted to Futomimi and away as he shifted nervously. Maybe Futomimi would laugh at him for wanting such a silly thing.
A tiny smile curved Futomimi's lips and he handed Shura the long thin strip of cloth he used to bind his hair. To him his hair was just a part of him. Something that was always there. Nothing special. It amused him to see how fascinated Shura was by it.
Returning the smile, Shura took the cloth and moved behind Futomimi. He frowned. He couldn't wait to get older. Everyone was taller than him, damn it.
As if sensing his problem, Futomimi sank gracefully to the ground. He shook his head, making his hair sway seductively from side to side. He watched Shura out of the corner of his eye, his smile growing a little wider at the sight of him mesmerized by the movement of his hair.
"Shura."
"What? Oh! Right." Kneeling behind Futomimi, Shura placed the cloth carefully over his shoulder. He would need it later. But first. Leaning forward, he gathered handfuls of Futomimi's hair and buried his face in it, rubbing it over his forehead and cheeks. He couldn't get over how soft and silky it was. It felt so good dragging across his skin.
And it was so beautiful to look at too. Sitting back, Shura let Futomimi's hair slip and slide through his fingers and he poured it from one hand to the other. Dark as night but shiny too. Like the sky lit by the moon. It was too bad that Futomimi wore it up all the time.
Pulling himself together, Shura settled down and dragged his fingers through Futomimi's hair with a purpose, combing it for several minutes until it lay flat against Futomimi's neck and shoulders. Sighing at the thought of having to bind all that beauty up again, Shura drew the strip of cloth off his shoulder and held it in his mouth as he had seen Futomimi do hundreds of times.
Slowly, reluctantly he slipped his hands under the heavy weight of hair to Futomimi's neck, rubbing the skin there gently for a few seconds before drawing his hair up to the top of his head. Holding it with one hand, Shura took the cloth from his mouth and wound twice around the base to fasten it and then twisted and flipped the rest of the hair over.
Concentrating solely on his task, Shura, with both hands now free, began the process of weaving the ends of the cloth back and forth, over and under each other to create the body of the tie that Futomimi wore. As he got to the end, he tied the cloth off, leaving the ends to dangle rakishly on either side of Futomimi's head.
Sitting back on his heels, Shura surveyed his work. Sadly Futomimi's hair was now hidden away from his sight. But if there was one good thing to come from the way Futomimi wore his hair, it was the fact that his neck was always bare. Shura smiled as he leaned down to press a kiss against the pale flesh. Having any part of Futomimi bare was always a good thing.
*************
WARNING!!! WARNING!!! CHARACTER DEATH AHEAD!!!
Futomimi knelt beside Shura ignoring the mayhem and destruction all around him. Blood soaked into his robe where he was kneeling. It was not his own. Most of it was that of his enemies. But some, too much, was Shura's.
Sliding one hand underneath Shura's neck, being mindful of his horn, Futomimi raised him a little, pulling him up against his chest. He could sense Collector Manikin in the background, hands fluttering like trapped birds, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. Shura coughed and shifted restlessly, and Futomimi soothed him. "Shh. It is all right. I am well."
Shura relaxed against Futomimi's chest. "Good," he gasped out. Shakily, one hand rose to touch Futomimi's face, making a bloody smear, as Shura trailed his fingers against his cheek. "Let... Let down your hair."
With a sad smile, Futomimi raised his free hand and pulled the tie free. His hair fell down around his face and shoulder, some of it slipping over Shura's face and neck. The smile grew tight as Shura turned his head and nuzzled both Futomimi and his hair.
"Glad you're all right. Got to go now," Shura whispered. His hand fell away from Futomimi's face to lay limply on the ground beside his body.
For a moment Futomimi held Shura tightly, his own face turned to hide in the sleek cap of Shura's hair. Then his shoulders rose as drew in a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he carefully lay Shura down on the ground and sat back on his heels to study his friend and lover.
Rising to his feet, Futomimi snapped his fingers to get Collector Manikin's attention. When the other Manikin came near, Futomimi held out his hand. "Knife." Hesitating a moment, Collector Manikin finally swung his pack down and rummaged through it, drawing out a large dagger which he then handed to Futomimi.
Futomimi hefted it a couple of times, then gathering up his hair, he swiftly sliced the dagger through the thick strands. Handing the dagger back to Collector Manikin, Futomimi bent and retrieved his hair tie. His fingers clenched it for a second and then he used it to tie the cut ends together. He wound it around several times and then tied it off so that the hair was now securely held.
Squatting, he lay the length of hair on Shura's still chest. "Your heart was different from any other demon and you changed my heart as well." He touched Shura's cheek, then stood.
"See to him," he said, as he turned his back on Shura and walked past Collector Manikin. He would not let Shura's sacrifice be in vain. He had a people to save.
