12-25-2017, 12:49 AM
His lips touched hers and suddenly it seemed as if a powerful current coursed through him. It had been a chaste and yet deep kiss. But with the connection of that circuit, he felt something stir deep within.
Ancient machinery, long still and quiet from disuse began to move and pump. Slowly at first. Sludge and rust did not move quickly. A heart dead and turned to stone did not respond immediately. But he felt movement, felt the stirring of emotion and tenderness he had not felt in....even as his lips devoured hers, felt her face against his, tasted the sweetness of this beautiful woman who gave herself to him, part of him stood back from habit. Sheer habit. Analyzing everything.
Over sixteen years since life had flowed through him. Since he had died. Since he was nothing more than purpose made flesh. Since he was a singular walking expression of will.
The animal inside stirred, awakend from his slumber. Rousing its head it seemed to shake off the sleep from its eyes. He felt angry. Even in this moment of surrender, he had not let go. Control watched over all still.
Sixteen years. Sixteen years of nothing. No human contact. He touched. Yes, he did. The snap of a neck. The stab of a sword. The slice of a blade. The shake of a hand. Even leading Valeriya outside.
But he was always and forever in Control. Always and forever on guard, heart caged and lashed down. And for the first time he could recall he resented Control to its core. Hated it. He violently rejected the mind over the heart, id over the ego.
He detested Control and sought release even as he felt her lips part, tasted her. A deep breath exhaled through his nostrils at this. His eyes were closed and he realized he was praying...or chanting, in his mind. Freedom. He wanted freedom. He wanted to let go. It was so close, but he didn't know how. So desperate.
The beast paced and growled against its bars. And then he did something he had never done. He unlocked the cage. Let the door drift open.
She was fire in his arms. Her arms were around him, hands pulling him at his head and ears, wild and free. He craved her freedom...he yearned for freedom, pawed and clawed for it. Her blanket was on the ground. Her hair wild, an animal, a huntress, the wild made flesh.
And he wanted her. Desperately. Animalistically. Wanted every part of him to be in contact with her. He wanted to be in her and to feel her in every way possible, to be possessed by and to possess her. His hands, he realized were roaming far and wild, feeling her taught firm legs and and hips, feeling her breasts against his chest.
She was arousing.
The animal nudged at the doors, as if testing. The Control stood there, watching, not stopping. Freedom. Please. Her kisses seemed to feed the beast. Its eyes grew hot. It seemed to grow.
Finally, it lept out at Control. Of course nothing was there, no enemy to confront. The leap was the step. Armande felt something snap, burst open in his heart. He tore his lips from hers and nuzzled against her throat. For a moment he bit softly, playfully, at the side of her neck. But it was a stall. He felt emotion overwhelm him until he could barely contain it. His heart thunderred and he convulsed.
Sixteen years without human contact. Years of meditation and sublimation his only tools to stay sane. He couldn't take the chance. Wouldn't. He was dead, a husk of a man. But it had taken its toll. It exacted a price. And now he was alive again. He fought to bring his pounding heart down, as he breathed great wracking droughts of air. He tried to surpress the tears that wanted to form at his eyes at the beauty of something so pure and raw and basic as this. Simple human intimacy. Contact. Connection.
He stifled the great sob or moan of desperate loneliness that wanted to escape him like air from a freshly opened tomb. It had been the price, to be what he had had to be. The sacrifice he had made. But only now did he realize what it had cost him. He was in a frenzy.
He fought for at least that much Control as the beast took over. And he had it. At least that much. She was in his arms, and somehow they were on the ground as the sun rose.
And he wanted her, here and now. He felt her against him, the feel of her body, her chest against his, the dip of her stomach and thighs, the sensual swell of her hips, the hint of opening of her to him in her movements. He felt tenderness and desire and affection and awe. He wanted to worship in her.
And he surrendured to it all.
He would be human again. Now. Finally. He could be human.
I want to be human! Was that a proclamation or a plea?
Edited by Regus, Dec 25 2017, 02:15 AM.
Ancient machinery, long still and quiet from disuse began to move and pump. Slowly at first. Sludge and rust did not move quickly. A heart dead and turned to stone did not respond immediately. But he felt movement, felt the stirring of emotion and tenderness he had not felt in....even as his lips devoured hers, felt her face against his, tasted the sweetness of this beautiful woman who gave herself to him, part of him stood back from habit. Sheer habit. Analyzing everything.
Over sixteen years since life had flowed through him. Since he had died. Since he was nothing more than purpose made flesh. Since he was a singular walking expression of will.
The animal inside stirred, awakend from his slumber. Rousing its head it seemed to shake off the sleep from its eyes. He felt angry. Even in this moment of surrender, he had not let go. Control watched over all still.
Sixteen years. Sixteen years of nothing. No human contact. He touched. Yes, he did. The snap of a neck. The stab of a sword. The slice of a blade. The shake of a hand. Even leading Valeriya outside.
But he was always and forever in Control. Always and forever on guard, heart caged and lashed down. And for the first time he could recall he resented Control to its core. Hated it. He violently rejected the mind over the heart, id over the ego.
He detested Control and sought release even as he felt her lips part, tasted her. A deep breath exhaled through his nostrils at this. His eyes were closed and he realized he was praying...or chanting, in his mind. Freedom. He wanted freedom. He wanted to let go. It was so close, but he didn't know how. So desperate.
The beast paced and growled against its bars. And then he did something he had never done. He unlocked the cage. Let the door drift open.
She was fire in his arms. Her arms were around him, hands pulling him at his head and ears, wild and free. He craved her freedom...he yearned for freedom, pawed and clawed for it. Her blanket was on the ground. Her hair wild, an animal, a huntress, the wild made flesh.
And he wanted her. Desperately. Animalistically. Wanted every part of him to be in contact with her. He wanted to be in her and to feel her in every way possible, to be possessed by and to possess her. His hands, he realized were roaming far and wild, feeling her taught firm legs and and hips, feeling her breasts against his chest.
She was arousing.
The animal nudged at the doors, as if testing. The Control stood there, watching, not stopping. Freedom. Please. Her kisses seemed to feed the beast. Its eyes grew hot. It seemed to grow.
Finally, it lept out at Control. Of course nothing was there, no enemy to confront. The leap was the step. Armande felt something snap, burst open in his heart. He tore his lips from hers and nuzzled against her throat. For a moment he bit softly, playfully, at the side of her neck. But it was a stall. He felt emotion overwhelm him until he could barely contain it. His heart thunderred and he convulsed.
Sixteen years without human contact. Years of meditation and sublimation his only tools to stay sane. He couldn't take the chance. Wouldn't. He was dead, a husk of a man. But it had taken its toll. It exacted a price. And now he was alive again. He fought to bring his pounding heart down, as he breathed great wracking droughts of air. He tried to surpress the tears that wanted to form at his eyes at the beauty of something so pure and raw and basic as this. Simple human intimacy. Contact. Connection.
He stifled the great sob or moan of desperate loneliness that wanted to escape him like air from a freshly opened tomb. It had been the price, to be what he had had to be. The sacrifice he had made. But only now did he realize what it had cost him. He was in a frenzy.
He fought for at least that much Control as the beast took over. And he had it. At least that much. She was in his arms, and somehow they were on the ground as the sun rose.
And he wanted her, here and now. He felt her against him, the feel of her body, her chest against his, the dip of her stomach and thighs, the sensual swell of her hips, the hint of opening of her to him in her movements. He felt tenderness and desire and affection and awe. He wanted to worship in her.
And he surrendured to it all.
He would be human again. Now. Finally. He could be human.
I want to be human! Was that a proclamation or a plea?
Edited by Regus, Dec 25 2017, 02:15 AM.