nightwindows: (Default)
Title: Hey There, Delilah
Rating/Warning: Er, PG?
Word Count: 810
For: tdm challenge, mysterious tarot.
Author's Notes: Lol I'm such a loser that I didn't post this in my writing journal. >.> So now I do. THERE.

Hey There, Delilah )


Apr. 20th, 2008 11:33 pm
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Dancing is the only thing that frees him. A dark club with neon lights. Pounding techno music, so loud the actual song is barely audible, and only the beat matters. Half-naked bodies, sweating and swaying to the rhythm, groping and teasing one another.


Sex is part of the dance. They bump, they grind, they retreat to a shadowed corridor. He doesn't know his partner's name. He doesn't want to. There's more bumping, more grinding, less graceful than the moves on the floor but just as passionate.


He bites his lip as he comes, desperately holding back the cries. The cries of pleasure, of frustration. It's all over so quickly, and now there's no more escape. It was good, while it lasted, but it's over and he's left against the wall, still as empty as he was this morning.

There's nothing for it but more dancing.
nightwindows: (Default)
This is a slightly reworked version of a short story I wrote some time ago, inspired by Sarah McLachlan's "In the Arms of the Angels"...

Title: Sweet Madness, Glorious Sadness
Warnings: Angst like you wouldn't believe. Death, too.

In the arms of the angels, far away from here... )
nightwindows: (Default)
More of my original fiction, how exciting! I think when I've written "The Novel of Marq and Zand (working title)", this will become a "deleted scene" so to speak. As in, I'm mostly writing this for me, to figure out the background of these characters and how they interact. It's not part of the overall plot. At least, I don't think it is. But what the hell do I know, I'm only the writer.

Is that your boyfriend? )

FUCK. Ending it there cause I've completely lost my muses, apparently. Stupid bastards decide to take a break when I'm not looking. Anyway, there will be more, soon.


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