desvuse

[desvuse]

a love letter.

TW / Sexual Innuendos.

     Apalah aku bagi perempuan yang aku cintai?

Perempuan itu bilang aku adalah bait-bait pujian yang pujangga gurat penuh makna, yang pada tiap hurufnya ia temukan rasa. Seluruh hal baik ibarat tersurat lantang-lantang pada wajahku, meski terpampang nyata pula bahwa aku ini sarat akan cacat. Ia bisikkan kalimat akan afirmasi bahwa segala kurang lebih yang terpatri padaku itu yang menjadikanku utuh. Untuk apa yang pernah, sedang, dan akan—dia bilang hatinya rakus, dia bilang ia mau cintai semua.

Mungkin aku sama serakahnya. Sebagaimana beberapa menit lalu kami berdua masih terpisah akan jarak beberapa langkah kaki, kini tanganku sibuk menyingkap kaos tipis yang menyelimuti tubuhnya. Hingga yang ia pakai sekarang hanyalah kulit—dan padanya bibirku mendarat, menyusuri tiap inci. Jilat demi jilat hingga terbenam wajahku di antara kedua tungkainya.

“Sayang,” panggilku di sela nafas panas yang menyapu inti tubuh miliknya, menyapa penuh nafsu. “Chiara, sayangku,”

Aku tahu persis bahwa ini adalah manifestasi, bentuk nyata dari sebuah penghambaan akan cinta. Sebab ia mampu buatku bertekuk lutut secara cuma-cuma untuk menyalurkan ingin yang menggebu. Pada tiap-tiap desah yang memecah hening bagai ombak menampar pantai, aku temui alunan suci penuh rangkaian doa.

Semoga waktu berhenti, semoga lama-lama begini, semoga sampai nanti-nanti.

“Mas—” Disebutnya namaku, berkejaran dengan nikmat yang lolos melalui deru nafas dari tubuhnya yang memanas. Pembuluh-pembuluh yang mengakar, mengisi setiap ruang diri, yang melekat pada tulang dan dagingku—mereka mengencang. Ada debar menggelegar di dalam dada yang jadikanku menegang. Menyadari bahwa ini rasanya dicintai dan mencintai seseorang.

      Apalah aku bagi perempuan yang aku cintai?

Ini adalah sebuah kompleksitas sederhana. Tentang segelintir ego dua insan yang tengah dimabuk cinta. Meski rasa itu merupakan hal paling subjektif seantero jagat, anak-anak manusia ini berlagak paling pintar dan tahu mengenai cinta. Nyatanya ini bukan rumus fisika dengan ilmu pasti, bukan juga pembilang pada harga suatu materi. Ini bak fluida yang wadahnya juga dinamis, silih berganti tak takut habis.

Orang bilang semua yang bertemu akan berpisah, semua yang punya awal juga punya akhir. Orang bilang yang pernah hidup akan rasakan mati, yang sempat datang akan berlari pergi. Aku bukan pembangkang, bukan juga pemberontak aturan, tapi saat ini aku dilanda cinta, yang satu menit sekali aku berikrar bahwa aku dan dia tidak lekang oleh waktu.

Aku mahir dalam banyak hal, tapi tidak ada yang lebih membuat bangga selain kemampuanku meninggikan perempuan ini. Kami saling melengkapi, seperti ketika bibir serta lidahku dibuat sibuk memanjakannya, ia akan mengambil alih untuk memastikan bahwa ruangan tempat kami beradu kasih tidak dimakan sunyi. Seperti sekarang ini. Tatkala jemarinya menyisir rambutku, sebelum detik berikutnya ia mencengkram dalam genggam kuat-kuat, aku menggila. Setelahnya, yang aku ingat, adalah permohonan penuh keputusasaan yang keluar dari mimiknya.

Maka aku bangkit, kemudian ada kecewa yang terbesit di benaknya saat kepalaku menjauh, digantikan dingin dari liur yang tersisa dan tertiup udara. Aku tidak perlu kata-kata untuk mengerti, ia tidak perlu repot-repot berucap untuk buatku lakukan lebih. Di sini aku, memandangi dua bola matanya yang riuh akan rindu, tak sabar untuk kami bersatu.

Lenganku bergerak mendekat, membelai wajah serta menyempatkan diri mengusap anak rambut yang menghalau pandang, lantas kubiarkan bibirku menandainya lewat kecupan pada ceruk leher yang berjalan naik hingga daun telinganya. Dibersamai nafas bercampur nafsu, aku berbisik, “Aku sayang kamu, kamu tahu?”

Semampu-mampunya diri, sedalam-dalamnya hati.

Bagai gemuruh, kami kembali beradu. Entah sejak kapan lantai pada bumi yang kami pijaki ini bergelimang potongan kain dari pakaian yang penuh akan peluh, kotor, dan najis. Bibir kami sudah saling bertaut, meraup penuh ketamakan seolah tidak mampu merasa puas. Tanganku melingkar pada tubuhnya bagai pencemburu dan tangannya bergerilya menjamah dada, perut, hingga pinggul serta pangkal pahaku.

   Apalah aku bagi perempuan yang aku cintai?

“Aku mau kamu.” Kalimat itu terselip di antara lenguhan-lenguhan yang diboncengi oleh pendeknya nafas. Serta-merta hal tersebut juga jadikanku anak adam paling religius, sebab pada detik itu juga aku bersembahyang; Tuhan, biar aku perjuangkan perempuan yang ada dalam pelukan.

Lalu, kami menjadi satu.

Dinding-dinding yang mengungkung serta melindungi akan jadi saksi, begitu pula dengan meja tempat kami bercumbu, juga jarum jam yang berdenting sirik menyaksikan keringat membanjiri tubuh. Hanya ada namaku, namanya, panjatan puja-puji, dan decit kayu di mana kami bertumpu—hanya itu yang dapat kami dengar, hanya itu yang kami biarkan menguar.

“Chiara, sayangku,” Aku bagai ditelan semesta. Dari sentuhan lembut yang kini merangkai hentakan kasar dan cengkraman kuat, aku bertanya-tanya, sudikah ia bersanding sehidup semati denganku?

Semakin cepat, semakin menjadi-jadi, semakin hilang waras pada diri. Kami bermandikan cinta, lengket dan basah—juga digulung segenap nikmat yang merambat liar di sepanjang saraf menjalar dalam batang tubuh. Aku menyerah tanpa perlawanan, kuberikan aku seutuh-utuhnya untuk perempuan dalam rengkuh.

Sayangku, sayangku, sayangku.

Kami bercinta bagai tengah beribadah dengan khusyuk, jauh dari kata ragu serta tidak ingin diganggu. Kami melupa akan apa-apa yang buat takut, hanya inti diri sibuk beradu, merapal sajak-sajak cinta melalui desahan syahdu.

Satu-satunya yang mengalami percepatan adalah gesekan kulit kami berdua, seluruh dunia dan seisinya—bahkan waktu bergerak melambat, tidak mampu menyaingi hebatnya cinta yang kami buat. Hingga kami semakin dekat dengan selesai dan apa yang tertahan pada akhirnya temui puncak.

      Apalah aku bagi perempuan yang aku cintai?

Perempuan itu bilang aku adalah bulan, bintang, matahari. Baginya aku adalah jagat raya beserta isinya.

Apapun aku; apapun yang pernah, sedang, dan akan—bagiku, aku adalah singgahsana.

      Apalah aku bagi perempuan yang aku cintai?

Aku adalah singgahsana yang pada pangkuannya hanya boleh diduduki oleh ia seorang.

[desvuse]

Lonely Hearts, Lonely Lips.

TW / Act of intimacy, explicit description of sexual innuendos, age gap relationship, infidelity.

️️ ️️ 

Plans are what people could make but fate works in a different way. Like an unwanted gift, something one could never lose, something one could never steal. Maybe it had already been written up there, in between heaven and hell, along with every element of surprise the world could help to offer. Life is a strange event, a maze with no way out, a puzzle that nobody could ever solve. Taking careful steps and going along the line would not give anyone an immediate guarantee for things to go well, for it is beyond one’s reach, no hunch shall make an exact final verdict—no matter how strong it is.

Fate doesn’t just go away when one wants it to. It wouldn’t go missing or disappear because one doesn’t like it. It stays, it grows, it manifests. Although fate is not for everyone, for people have their own beliefs to hold on to, some do still think that fate plays along in their lives’ scenario. Chiara had doubts about this, she thought this was not something that fate would ever do, this was not something written in her scenario. This—was probably what she chose to go against fate.

“Does it have to be that close and intimate?” Tobias frowned, “It was just a rehearsal, C.”

Chiara tried to fill her lungs with as much as oxygen that she could breathe in, attempting to calm herself down. Tobias got a little way too sensitive ever since the last scandal about her broke out—which she had explained that it was fabricated news, full of lies. She had her both arms folded in front of her chest as she leaned against the door, standing there in his office whilst listening to every word that came out of his lips ever so patiently.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was filmed. Any paparazzi would want to get what I saw this morning and make money out of it.”

“Relax, we were just trying to build chemistry. I am working, don’t worry much.” She was rather calm and what she said was nothing but truth.

Tobias scoffed, did not sound so pleased with the response that she gave out. He had one of his hands on his waist and the other one on his desk, whilst both eyes were glaring at her filled with jealousy.

“I need to get things done, go to bed first, don’t wait for me.”

She decided to stay for the night because she wanted to make up for the time she spent in the filming site, for being busy in general. Tobias agreed and yet he seemed to be unable to control his jealousy that Chiara never thought would have ever existed in him. He might be too old for some young love but what if he had never tasted something like this before? Love has no age restrictions, sometimes. It has no rules, it could go beyond the normal boundaries. Or maybe they both were just fools, pretending to know what they were doing, hiding their ego—that very humane part of them—behind the word of love.

Chiara did not want to make things worse and so she just waited inside the room, secretly waiting and hoping for him to come. Hours had passed, the clocks were striking half past ten as she got really uneasy to stay there, forcing herself to sleep. She had missed him a little too much not to be able to stand any fights—or this, whatever it was that felt almost like a silent treatment. Not to mention that she was bored and so in hope to get rid of it, she walked towards Tobias’ closet with an idea in mind. Her legs moved as if she owned the place, as if it knew every corner of this place. Those dainty fingers of her ran through the line of his hanged shirts as she bit her lower lip. A faint smile danced on her visage as she trailed her hand underneath the strap of her lingerie and let it slip down South to the floor. She had grabbed the shirt before another idea popped out inside her headspace, causing a wider smile to grow. With a slight move, she had gotten rid of her panties in no time, too, and finally put the shirt on.

The idea was there with hope that she would sleep better with his shirt on, but the smell that lingered on it did something unexpected to her. Yes, she had a bad idea when she took her panties down earlier but surely not a sudden surge of hormones within that caused her to get aroused like this. Chiara hadn’t even touched the bed or tried to sleep wearing it on, but she couldn’t help herself to stop thinking about the man. She might have blamed the pheromones but it was a clean shirt she took straight out of his closet. Maybe it was the thought of him that did it to her, for she had not stopped thinking about the man since he asked her to go to bed.

Humans do have that power to go far reaching to a certain extent to get something that they want. Chiara had never thought she would have done it, having her legs sauntering the hallway towards his working room. The doors were still closed when she arrived right in front of it and with no further thought, she pushed it open slowly to get inside. Her eyes caught the man sitting on his chair, uncaring of how she just entered the room with no invitation, wearing only his shirt with nothing underneath. A warm, heavy breath escaped through her lips as she bit the bottom part of it—she found him looking so hot and arousing by keeping himself busy and focused that way.

“I can’t sleep.” She muttered and it did finally draw his attention to her, shifting his focus from all those papers and his laptop, eyes aiming for her figure. Tobias took a deep breath as he had his hand move to take his glasses off his face.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?”

His voice—in a way—turned her on a little more. Especially with that one expression, Chiara had been biting her lower lip, trying her best to control herself. “I was bored … and I can’t sleep. Can you please come to bed now?” Maybe Tobias could already sense how her voice sounded like a whine.

“I’m still working. Drink some water and go back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tobias was more than ready to have himself all engrossed back in his work again but Chiara had already made her move—walking closer towards him with absolutely zero intention to go as he said. “C, come on,”

She traced her fingers around his arm, dodging his words like it did not matter if it did not grant her what she wanted. Before he could speak another word, Chiara managed to find herself a way to straddle him on his seat. She gasped as soon as she was seated on top of him, having her bare cunt rubbing against the fabric of his pants. “But, daddy…” She whined, arms linked around his neck, “I can’t sleep and I want you, right now.” Never did she think of this, of how she could get this desperate for one’s touch.

“Look, C,” He heaved out a sigh, probably trying to control his breath. “If you are doing this to make up to what happened earlier, you don’t have to. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get mad—” Chiara grabbed his hand even before he got to finish his words and led it go South, reaching her naked cunt which by the time had probably gotten wet because of the racy thoughts that hadn’t stopped running around her head.

“Oh, fuck—baby,” he scoffed, muttering lowly as his eyes were looking directly at her in disbelief. “You are that desperate for my cock that you—”

Chiara, for once again, cut his words as she leaned closer, breathing against his cheek, moaning in a delicate whisper in his ear. “This is me telling you that I am all yours, daddy.”

Truth was, Chiara did not get upset because he had been a tad childish in facing some issues after the scandal. Yet she did get sad because she thought that if she were to be put in his shoes, she might have done worse things than he did. Having a relationship where you have to hide it from almost literally every single soul living on Earth is not an easy matter to deal with. And by the fact that he apologized for what happened, she couldn’t find him any hotter than he already was. Something about the way he delivered his words, even when she cut it unfinished, it had inflicted a gentle flame to turn into a raging fire within her.

Heavy breaths, rushing blood, Chiara could tell that he had a hard time dealing with this. She managed to have his fingers staying there, slowly pressing one finger to play with her folds. She moaned, feeling even more needy and greedy for more. “Baby, not right now, okay? I’m really busy.”

She did not think much about what he said, she did not mind it at all, in fact. She knew the man wanted her, too, for the fact that he did not pull his hand away from where it was and how his length grew big down there just underneath his pants. No words left her mouth as she reached for his lips, nibbling on it whilst hand rubbing his clothed bulge, feeling how hard it was as he gasped before emitting an unconscious rumbling groan around the throat when he breathed.

“You are being such a brat right now, do you know that?” Tobias hissed, struggling to keep himself sane. Chiara curled up a soft smile as she pressed her lips against his, turning little pecks into a passionate kiss. She had her hands trying to unbuckle his belt and get his length out from the suffocating pants. The jingling sound of his belt grew her a little more impatient.

“And what’s so wrong about it, daddy?” She mumbled in between their hungry kiss and broke away from it just as soon as she had his palm wrapped around the throbbing, rigid length of his. Tobias grabbed her hand with heavy breaths and suffering eyes. Head was shaking, hesitantly so, as he tried to voice his thoughts out loud.

“Spoiled, you are, little one.” But instead, that was what slipped out of his wet brims as he let go of her hand to do what she wanted to do.

She did not say anything else but found herself a way down to the floor, on her knees, just under his desk, right in front of his shaft. He had secretly cursed a thousand times at the back of his mind with every move that she made; especially when her hands were lingering around his body before they yanked his pants down. It was already dripping wet down there for her but she wanted to tease him that far only to please him more. Chiara gusted out a warm air against his leaking length, sending pleasure through the nerves and blood through its vessels, causing him to groan again as she responded to his words, “I am.” and right after that, she planted kisses at the tip of his length all the way down to his balls.

At every touch of her lips on his length, all those kisses that she made, Chiara knew she had driven him insane. Tongue sticking out to get it wet, from his balls and up to the length ever so slowly, before it reached the skin right underside the glans to play a little while there with that tender tip. She shut her eyes as she breathed, sliding the length inside her warm, tiny cavern—taking him in as much as her mouth could do.

“Oh, fuck,” he mouthed, sounded desperate already even when she had just started. He jolted in pleasure, gulping down every moan that could have slipped past his brims, body stiffen as she sent shivers down his spine and throughout his whole being.

Chiara knew where to touch him, nearly like she knew his body better than anyone else. She wrapped his length around so good, warm and wet as she moaned—sending pleasure through. Heat grumbled at the pit of her stomach as her eyes caught him suffering, body silently battling against his own thoughts. This came unannounced, which made it a thousand times better and the adrenaline rush was way wilder. The palm of her left hand was lingering around the base of his length as she started to move her head back and forth, saliva started to lubricate the rigid shaft as it sipped through the edges of her mouth—along the line of her brims before drop by drop it dripped down his skin.

“You are so good,” He hissed while having his arm stretched to grab a fistful of her hair, moving it along as she picked up the pace. “It drives me crazy.” A low groan slipped past his lips and her clit throbbed at how hot it sounded to her. With that, she moved one of her hands to play with his balls as her eyes were looking up, aiming at his. She took his girth in and out, bobbing her head ever so fervently as if she had been craving for the taste of it for so long. His was hot, with all those protruding veins, covered in her messy drips and his leakings—she could feel it inside her tiny mouth.

“God,” he mouthed, again, unable to do much. Those eyes of hers, that expression, he could never escape that look. He would yield, even thousand years from now for that look. It sliced his sanity, buckshot his weak point—that maybe he would have wanted to do anything to get to see that look. Her pair of dark orbs filled with nothing but a great hankering. “Baby.” Every word coming from him greeted her ear like endless praises, like overflowing words of contentment and wave of proud chanting. Maybe only he had the ability to make her feel like she actually was capable of doing something good, far from the word disappointing.

“Ngh—” Pleasure pervaded through his nerves as she mumbled—groaning, moaning with her stuffed mouth, for every single time she did so, a gust of heat and its warm sensation struck the girth of his. Chiara had both palms of her hands enfolded around it—one moving clockwise and the other one countering it. Her mouth lingered around the tip of it as her tongue played with the underside of his glans, head tried to take some part in and out, still. Yet the movement got faster, way more messy, wet, and sloppy. She was aware of how debauched she might have looked but she enjoyed that feeling—of being seen, of being heard, of being felt. “Fuck—fuck, baby.” His breaths had turned into short pants, desperate groans, and flushing pleasure out of this lust.

“Mmm—” Her mouth was getting sore but Chiara grunted in a little confusion, feeling rather slightly upset when Tobias wiped his palm around her face to get rid of her strands of hair as he slowly grabbed it and pulled it away from his shaft. He was aching for more by the time she slowed down and one of her hands moved to reach for her sweet bud down South but he did not want to release it without giving her what she deserved. “What is it, daddy?” she asked, tears gathered at the edge of her eyes, saliva and leakings dripping through the brims of her mouth.

He seemed impatient, she saw it clear through his eyes. Yet he remained calm enough as he bent a little towards her. Eyes darting at her with lust firing up, he said the words which caused her walls tighten, hungry and impatient for what she could get after this.

“Come up here, little one. You may fuck yourself on me and get what you desire.”

Plans are what people could make but fate works in a different way. Like an unwanted gift, something one could never lose, something one could never steal. Maybe it had already been written up there, in between heaven and hell, along with every element of surprise the world could help to offer. But does fate do something like this? Every second and every tiny detail of what they do, does fate work like this? Does fate break hearts, too? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe despite everything else, they just happened.

Maybe they were nothing but two lonely hearts, filling the void through their lonely lips.

End part: Lonely Hearts, Lonely Lips.

[desvuse]

Crestfallen.

TW / Implicit description of sexual innuendo, infidelity, and trauma.

Hiram Lee had that power one could not resist in this household of Lee. Of course, he was all shaped to lead, to be the best, to be on top of everything. Words that came out of his lips were orders that people around him had to fulfill, a command they had to obey. They had been working almost like a manual book that Chiara—and her siblings had to hold on to.

Because no one knew what Hiram could have inside his mind. One might say that he was a wicked man, but other than that, he was smart and as selfish as it might have sounded to others, he had his reasons. Thus, breaking the law in the form of his words sounded equal to wishing for a death sentence.

It was not really an exaggeration.

Chiara had died inside, so many times because of that. Because of his words. It sliced through and cut like a ridiculously sharp knife, done by someone who knew precisely how to use it. Nobody would have wanted to experience it the way she did.

Being his first daughter did not make things easier, let alone better for Chiara. Truthfully, the closer and the more important your place and existence is to Hiram Lee, you would most likely to get hurt far worse than anyone else would ever be. Chiara was a gem, one of his most precious objects where he could dictate things the way he pleased, that he could project his ambition or obsession and desire to, hiding behind the term of how he did that for the sake of herself, for her future.

Yet what was the point of shaping one’s future by ruining their life in the present time? What kind of investment would benefit them? What would be so good about having it for a temporary moment?

This one, only Hiram Lee could ever answer and a major part of it would be closely related to his ego.

Chiara knew all the dos and don’ts this family had created, imprinted on her brain that sometimes it caused her to get nauseous. She thought Hiram was righteous, for everyone had followed what he had asked. People sought his advice, begged for his ‘yes’, praised for his sympathy. He had everyone wrapped around his fingers. Chiara was no exception.

She thought it was only normal for him to do all that because he had all the cards and everyone had to play along with the game that he chose to play. Some did not know how to play, some did not come prepared, some were lured and forced to join, some had no clear instructions, some had no other option. And Chiara was all that.

Young and naive, the fact that her surroundings were nothing but also a victim to his power, Chiara could only follow what her eyes saw, what her ears heard, and what her body was told to do. Her only shelter would be her uncle—and her mother, sometimes, she probably could have counted it by the fingers in one hand of how many times Amaia Lee, the woman who gave birth to her, felt like a place she could turn to.

She was twelve when it happened.

The clocks were striking past midnight when she arrived at home and rain was pouring heavily on Earth. Cold—almost freezingly so—the night was, as it got darker. Damp hair and clothes could never go well with a tired body. She had been busy dealing with a tight schedule as she got herself stepping into the field of entertainment earlier that year. It felt as if getting enough rest was not listed on her list. She would call herself lucky to get five hours of sleep a day and she did not think anyone could help her to ask for more.

She needed to prepare for a lot of things that her parents had set up for her, even her mother had already sealed a deal for her upcoming projects that was held a year after. Chiara clearly could not risk anything, she couldn’t mess things up. Whenever she slacked off, Hiram would always have his ways of saying words that ended up making her feel small and helpless. That alone had scourged her in a way that she kept telling herself to push it, even if it made her go beyond what she meant to handle. Chiara knew nothing other than doing all this, she lived for this. Her walls were built for her to stay caged within her parents’ watch.

Dimmed lights and heavy drizzles greeted Chiara all the way to the front door where her driver dropped her off. No one seemed to be around except two maids whom she did not really pay attention to. Silence dominated the room and she decided to not say anything, not even responding to their warm welcome. Every corner was pretty much empty, just the usual scenery that her eyes would see when she got home. Having hectares of building did not make the place feel like home, it felt more like a formality to have something that this family could call a house.

No one really liked to stay for too long in this house. Either because they had things to do with the world outside or they just simply made excuses to be away from this suffocating place. Maybe Chiara was, too, displeased with how things could get rather exhausting in here, but a part of her loved to stay at the corner of the small library somewhere inside it. It granted her solitude and probably peace as well. That feeling lingered until she had to do this, to work and dive deep into the industry that forced her to stay out of touch with what she loved.

That was that, a life which she thought had to live in for the rest of the time. Nothing could get worse, right? Humans would carry a thin string of hope along the line of life, nevertheless. Yet she got her hopes up every single time a compliment slipped past her father’s lips, as if it was the most rewarding feeling she could have ever experienced. Maybe his acknowledgement was always something that Chiara would constantly seek for. That night was one of those days where she felt like she deserved some of that.

Frail steps were taken ever so slowly through the stairs. She had nothing inside her mind but a warm shower and a good sleep as she dragged her legs to her room. The day had ended, it was already a new clean slate to go through, she thought. In this universe, nothing comes with an absolute guarantee. Either terms and conditions should be met or you just would never get it in a perfect form. That night, for instance, where she thought that everything was just fine, the deity had already planned something else to end her day.

A loud thud pervaded through the canals of her ears as it was heeded, clearly so. Chiara halted for a few seconds before she turned her head to the source of it. Usually, she would not mind it and continue to go straight to her room. Yet her body seemed to be moving out of an impulse that she did not know why she decided to go after the sound. It brought her legs there, standing in front of this huge wooden door where it was not completely shut, the light from inside the room was peeking outside through the gap.

That room witnessed countless fights that happened between Hiram and Amaia. Was the sound caused by another fight? No, it would not have been possible. Amaia was in the States and that one particular room should have been quiet and the light should have been turned off. Hiram would only come to his room when he needed sleep and he always turned the lights off if so. Maybe the thought of it was the one to inflict her curiosity.

There were assumptions running around her head and yet nothing seemed to satisfy her. Nothing came to her conclusion so she decided to take a few steps ahead of where she was standing, taking a closer look at what was happening behind the door. Oh, maybe she had taken a rather stupid decision. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that. Maybe she should have gone straight to her room instead of doing this. Because the moment her dark orbs caught a glimpse of what happened inside, she had cursed herself so many times.

Sometimes, some things are better left undiscovered.

She stopped blinking as her breath quickened as if something was strangling her throat. Chest tightened, heart skipped a beat, like lightning that struck—eroding something within herself, diminishing her in a way she could never recover from. Everything moved in a slow motion that the scene she had witnessed was etched within her, that she knew it would never leave her mind. It felt so much like she was being dragged to a desolation and in silence, all alone, she had lost herself a thousand times more than what she had ever faced before.

Everyone hides something from others, Chiara was no different. She was just like any other being and she believed that each and every one in this family had at least a secret that they did not and would never reveal to anyone. She figured that Hiram probably was the one to hide the most. Yet she did not expect herself to be here, witnessing all of this. She did not know why it wrenched her to see that. She did not know why it caused her pain, a pain that one could get from an act of betrayal.

It was him, it was the righteous man whom she let control her life. It was Hiram Lee and she was sure of it. It was her father, undressing a woman, and she was not her mother. She could hear every moan that echoed around. She felt weak on her knees yet she couldn’t move, and certainly queasy; it rose sharply at the pit of her stomach as Hiram continued, unaware of Chiara’s presence. Maybe he had just cut a few strings of hope that Chiara had about him, that she had built ever since she was born.

Chiara used to believe that everyone had their own love language, she used to believe that Hiram had his, too. She believed that maybe everything that he did was how he spoke his language of love which she had to learn to understand it. She thought it would be fine to take a few more years to get used to it. Yet, indeed, the universe had its way of toying around with one’s life. He was not a man of conviction that everyone thought he was or always had been and what he did was not just an act of hypocrisy, it was so much more than that.

That night changed her life.

For the worst of days and a much more foreign feeling of a father’s love.

Crestfallen: end part.

[desvuse]

Dagger of Fortuitous.

Trigger Warning / Act of intimacy, age gap relationship, sexual innuendos. 

2020.

Life is pretty much a constant battle between one and the rest of the world. That battle is a form of the unknowing, the firing of fuel to the moving wheels, the wild rushing blood within the veins.

This is the art of possibility.

One can never foresee a future that life holds for them; it does not offer a fast-forward button that anyone could easily press to fulfill a mere curiosity or to skip certain intrusiveness. It is full of ever-changing emotions and one is demanded to be dynamic to suit the shape of the plights. Some cover the rough surface, some hide away from hurdles, some slither through the crack. Perhaps Chiara had tasted all of it through certain points in life, changing roles accordingly to how life may put her into it.

This time, she played the game of gliding into the entrance of the gap that probably did not exist before this, before both of his warm palms were placed on her face as he leaned closer to reach for her lips ever so aggressively. As if he had been yearning for something like this, something so vulnerable and pure. The intoxication of alcohol did alter her consciousness, though she had pushed him a little the moment his lips touched hers, his movement stopped her from doing that and she began to devour his lips the way he did.

She was the one to pull him closer for another kiss when he broke away for a brief moment. A gentle press of their brims turned into hunger, a hopelessness of desire. Perhaps it was a mere lust, a humane imprudence that initiated it all. Yet inch by inch of his fingertip that dawdled and the tender bite on her lower lip caused the insanity to bloom, pervading through the hollow of splendid delight. Like a firework that fulminated, filling the empty complexes within.

Through those kisses, she felt something—almost like a reassurance, a countless of ‘it’s okay’. The day was long and that feeling was rather indescribable, of how she felt just right to do that, to have his tongue wandering around her warm, tiny cavern and his arms roaming around her figure. He pulled her closer as eagerness grew sharp, striking through the nerves. The heat rose within him like thunder, flashing before one’s eyes—it consumed him alive. And one thing led to another, Chiara felt how the low heat inflicted a gentle flame that slowly burned her all.

Hours before Chiara was brought to his place, her face was all drenched in tears, eyes filled with nothing but fear. She was almost losing her uncle for good, the closest she could get to having a father figure, and it nearly caused her to lose her sanity as well. He saw it all, witnessing how she looked like she was facing a deathlike event as she forced herself to breathe—keeping her heartbeat steady. No one could possibly convey the true meaning of losing when they are so close to it, all they could taste is probably that: desperation.

They exchanged not even a word as he began to trail kisses down her neck, causing her to arch a little, giving him more access to explore the gleaming skin of hers. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold herself back from moaning. Yet she failed miserably as soon as he had his tongue twirling around her ear.

“Mmmh—“

Sin tasted a lot like sugar and everything was nice. No deity would be worthy enough for one to get worried about when madness ran, fervently so, filling every labyrinth of the vessel. That it became the oxygen that they breathed in, that it became the fuel to the throbbing heart.

“You are so beautiful.”

If one was asked to name the most potent aphrodisiac, the answer would be words—at least that was how it worked with Chiara. The way he whispered it close to her ear, how his warm breath brushed against the nerves—she had always been weak for that. It was like a long stroke of pleasure, dragged intimately so, causing the folds in between her thighs to get even wetter; dripping as she surrendered.

“It’s okay, you will be okay.”

He had his fingers run along the skin of her inner thighs before he reached her clothed folds, slipping fingers through the seamless line of the fabric and they found their way to touch the warm wetness, rummaging, finding her sweet bud. Something at the back of her mind was screaming, asking her to stop him, louden as he moved his fingers in a circular motion. Yet all she did was nothing but moan in pleasure. One of her arms traveled South, encircling her fingers around his wrist. The other arm was grabbing him by the hair, giving him indirect consent to do more.

She shed a tear, for there were too many feelings that she felt—if she was to take another shot of the liquor, she could have exploded into pieces. The sudden kiss that happened between them earlier ago might be one of the ways that the universe had scripted out for them. Come hell or high water, it was meant to happen. He was bound to not hold his desire to take her as he did. The rumbling inside his chest weighed a little more the moment she begged,

“Ah—please,”

All the desperation of fear that had been consuming her seemed to be washed away, melted along with every touch that he made. She became impatient, for she felt like it was the only way to ease the burdening sorrow. He did not say much after that, letting his body do all the talking. He broke away from her skin, glancing at her eyes before he turned her around—almost like his instinct played the role that he did it, making it easier for the both of them to finish what they had started.

He pushed her down and bent her over the counter. His movements were firm and gentle as if his hands had been trained to understand her body—every curve and edge, it felt so much like it was shaped to fit his touches. Chiara gasped as her skin met the cold surface of the marble of his table. Second after second passed by in a slow-motion that it might have scorched her into pieces. Everything was what she might be needing at that moment. This, this was not the sex that she knew of. This was not only giving her pleasure—but also pain, desperation, fear, and something else that she did not know could be tasted during this.

Something that was quite depressing.

He gently unzipped her dress as his other arm was down there, unveiling the fabric of it away from his touch, away from his sight. It exposed her round end as he leaned closer, leaving kisses all the way along her bare back. She could feel his warm breath dancing against her skin, arousing—tempting. The sadness evaporated little by little, in exchange with much more feelings that were all unfathomable. This, when his belt jingled as the sound of it echoed and heeded by her ears, this only made her want to beg for him to do more—to ruin her.

“Ah—!” She exclaimed as he thrusted his length inside. Fingers were fidgeting on the cold and hard surface as she let another moan escape her lips.

This was madness.

A hoard of scenes flashed before her eyes, of how everything happened so fast that she forgot about everything else but this. It was insane, that a few hours ago hues and blinding lights almost caused her to throw up. Chiara did not speak a word, there in his passenger seat she sat silently, uncaring of how he had been trying to get her address so he could bring her there. Instead of responding to all his questions, she closed her eyes, and slowly fell deep into the unconsciousness.

He was not any different. In fact, he probably had seen this coming. Because he had been enduring all the thoughts, feeling, and other elements that might be soaring up throughout his whole being. He carried her to his very room and waited for her until she woke up for an hour or so, he did all that with a heart throbbing in a way that he never felt before. Foreign, unknown to his senses. It all led him to this. A blazing heat permeated her body and woke up all the nerves, she could feel his rigid shaft inside as she wrapped it closely and tight by the warm, wet walls of hers. She took him so well that it caused him to groan in pleasure.

“Oh, God. Fuck.”

Amidst the unknowing, there lies a resurrection of a million hopes, tiny particles that chained up into a string of desire, fear, desperation; the one that makes an existence so much more than that, enlivening the art of being alive. This was the intimacy that she longed for, something that she felt significantly so, in which she never thought that it would have ever existed. This was something she found in between the cracks, a ray of light in the surrounding darkness, a sweet lullaby of bitter anthology.

He took his shirt off, impatiently so, and then he grabbed both of her arms as he pulled it closer towards him, lustfully moaning and let those fervent breaths echo through the room. Arms quickly moved, wrapping around her body as another one enfolding its palm around her neck. His lips found a way to reach her ear, again, as her back was pressing against his front torso.

Who would have thought that she would find this when she was nearly grieving? So close to losing. They both had lost their minds to this very moment, defeated by ego. This wasn’t just a mere lawless madness. This was a dagger one could find through piercing needles only to hurt themselves. This dagger weighed risks and consequences, which they both recklessly held between the fortuitous things the universe had offered.

As the clocks were striking twelve, things had changed.

She was no longer just a niece to him.

Dagger of Fortuitous: End Part.

[desvuse]

Invisible Thread: Three

Trigger Warning: Sexual Innuendos, Explicit, Age Gap.

⠀ 

They wanted each other.

More than one could ever tell, more than what words could ever explain, more than what the universe can give. They wanted to let their feelings consume them, bit by bit, as a whole, they wanted that. They wanted to let each other break it hard, so hard as if they don’t fear anything. They wanted to exult in this time, in this very life of their existence by taking each other in, keeping them close and dear to their hearts.

He put his hand around her nape to deepen the kiss, his eyes were shut close and he had never tasted the sweetness the way he did that night. Exhilaration grew sharp, striking every inch of their limbless particles within, slowly turning on the heat of the night. Their hearts were no longer throbbing in discomfort, it had shifted into gladness that rushed through every drop of blood. It was no longer just lust that they had in mind, that took control, that dominated their actions. It was beyond comprehension, more than one could ever be capable of explaining.

He lifted her up and placed the figure on the table just right behind her, still with their lips latched around each others’ and raging passion that turned it into a sloppy kiss. Wet and wild, even after countless of it, the kiss had never failed to turn them on. He devoured her ripe red lips as he felt himself growing big and hard in his pants. He had always been weak for her, easily tied down by just a slight touch. Even the scent of her body had become a drug to him, driving him crazy just every single time it flowed through his nose, addictively so.

Their kiss was almost breathless and it lasted longer than how they usually did. Now that he broke the kiss and started to plant his lips on the skin of her neck, he could hear the sound of her moaning echoing through his place and passed through the canals of his ears. The tip of his penis tingled as blood rushed fast through its veins, growing it even bigger, hard, and rigid.

“Mmhh..”

Every movement and every touch that he made caused her to feel hot in between the thighs, dripping wet all over her folds. She rummaged her fingers through his hair and grabbed as he sucked her neck and went down all the way to her chest, leaving traces by kisses. At some points he’d stick his tongue a little to taste her skin, followed by the brims of his lips on it. He understood her body more than anyone else that had the chance to touch her.

“Daddy,”

It felt just right to call him that way, unlike to any other men out there, she felt it the most suitable to say when it comes to Tobias. Just how powerful the feeling that grew inside of her. A few minutes ago she felt as if she would have resented him for the rest of her life if he were not to speak the truth. A few minutes ago she wanted to burn him alive and now right this very second, she wanted to taste his love all for her.

It was also his cue to go on, the green light that doubled the gladness. She moaned by the time his hand lifted her sleeveless shirt, exposing her skin to his lips, making her arch a little, arousing him even more. To the South he went, tracing her skin using his lips, still, whilst having his hands taking off her jeans and panties slowly. He knew how to drive her insane by maintaining the slow pace and making her beg.

“You are so beautiful.” He nibbled on her skin just right before his face was in between her thighs, blowing a warm air through his mouth against her wet folds. The sensation did make her moan again, a little louder this time, she could feel herself getting impatient as he placed his lips on her inner thigh, inch by inch, from one side to another, and then finally to her folds. Dripping wet and warm, he took a glance at her whilst running his fingers on her stomach and thighs.

“Ngh, please..”

He pulled her closed by putting his arms on her thighs and dragged it closer to his face. Just a second after, he had it buried in between the limbs and his tongue running on the lips of her vagina. He licked it slowly and then it got slightly faster, back and forth, also its tip twirling around on her sweet bud. It was enough to make her beg, it was enough to make her fall into desperation. She craved for that, for the touch, for more of him. Her hand moved South to reach his hair, grabbing it hard for the pleasure that pervaded throughout her whole being.

“Daddy,”

“Please,”

She wanted that, to ache for him, to go all desperate for craving him to get inside her, she wanted that. She surrendered, the entire being of her was giving up. She was, too, in love with him.

“Sweetheart,” Tobias breathed the warm air for once more, blowing it against her folds, giving her the tingling sensation that caused her to get all hot and more wet. “My sweetheart,” a gentle and loving peck was given right before he stopped and got back up, grabbing his own covered rigid length down there. He couldn’t hold himself either, it did give him pain for he kept it there long enough while was busy with the warmth of her wet vagina.

The feeling was rather indescribable, his heart was thumping hard and loud as soon as he caught the sight of her face. It was her, it was the woman that he wanted to keep close, it was the woman that gave him hope, it was her, it was Chiara. She did not leave, she did not go, she stayed. He was able to touch her, hold her, and even hear her moaning out his name.

Perhaps it was some kind of miracle that happened. Did his thread really grow and linger around her? Did he only wish it to be that way? Did he force her to do this right now?

Tobias leaned closer and took her lips for once again, kissing her until they both were almost losing breath, tasting every act of madness through each other’s desperation. He couldn’t believe how he managed to make her stay, he still needed to make sure that what he saw and touched was really her.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” He mumbled in between the kiss as he unbuckled his belt, letting his rigid penis out of his pants.

“It is you,” he was still saying some words to convince himself that it was reality he was facing.

“It is me.”

Chiara wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close so she could feel his body, and her lips were busy taking him aggressively. “Let me feel this, too.”

The day she had been imagining inside her head was finally here. Saying that she fell for the man was never something she would have thought of happening. Yet there they were, craving and yearning for each other’s touch as if tomorrow would never come. Her hand moved down South this time, still with her lips latch on his ever so hungrily. She grabbed his rigid, throbbing flesh. Even her fingertips sent shivers down his spine, growing the length big and hard.

It was only a brief seconds before he grabbed her hand, stopping her from what she was doing and brought her down to get her back standing on the floor. He ripped her thin fabric off her skin and then turned her body around, pushing it rough enough to arouse her but gentle enough to make her feel safe. The next thing he did was bending her over the counter as he leaned closer to kiss her cheek from behind. His lips did not only stop there but it traveled through the skin of her back this time, tracing every inch of it before he grabbed her by the hair and whispered close to her ear.

“I want you.”

“I want you so bad.”

A slap on her bum was given, loud and very much arousing, leaving a reddish mark on it. Though he was still covered in his shirt and he only lowered his pants, he was still looking so hot. While Chiara was all naked, sweating and panting, desperate to feel him inside of her.

“Shh, fuck.”

“Please, Daddy,”

He had his own palm wrapped around his flesh, giving it a little massage before he slammed it gently against her bottom. They were all consumed by lust, it was eating them alive as they let out the rage through the kiss, touch, and now he had his rigid length thrusted inside through her folds. She took him so well, wrapping his penis within the wet and warm walls of her cavern.

“Ahh—”

Both moaned in pleasure, releasing more and more ecstasy. They did not care about anything else, all they wanted was each other. He started to move his hip, thrusting deep and slow at first before the pace escalated as she adjusted to his length inside of her.

“Oh, fuck— Nggh..”

Tobias had tasted countless sex and yet none of it satisfied him the way she did. To have it with her was more than just sex. To have it with her was a remedy, a pain reliever, a soothing lullaby. To have it with her was an expression of his emotion.

The feeling that he had never thought of having after he let it all long left obsolete, the feeling that they tried too hard to deny, the feeling that confused her all this time.

To declare it as love would take more time than confessing about what they wanted. To say the three words perhaps would never be written on their list. All they care about would be each other’s existence.

“You are so good,” Tobias moved faster, ramming his rigid shaft inside of her ever so senselessly. “Fuck, baby,”

Chiara had become a moaning mess, as if the slightest touch of his skin could send her off the edge. She ached for that, for him to treat her as she was his, and only his to own.

Drenched in sweat, they both moaned, praised one another just like how they always did. Yet this time they did not only let their body be touched. This time they let their soul speak about truth, crafting the sexiest memory inside their headspace.

“God, baby—“

“Ahh, yes, Daddy. Shh— please, please.”

He put his hands on her hips, picking up his pace as fast as he could, feeling close to the peak of the pleasure. Another slap and one more of it landed roughly on the skin of her bum. Chiara nearly lost her mind, he fuck her so good to the point where she forgot that it all starter with a fight that almost end it all.

“Baby,”

“Love— Fuck,”

He cursed out loud as he could feel the pulsating flesh tingled, he was so close to his release.

It didn’t take so long before Tobias leaned closer, bending his own body towards her, kissing her shoulder and ear from behind as he thrusted and fucked her in a fast pace, senselessly so.

“Ngh— Nnh—“

“D-daddy—hhh..”

He wrapped his arms around her body, pulling it close as he made a deep and rough thrust to let out his release, reaching the peak of his limit.

“Ah— Baby—“

“Ahh—“

“Daddy..”

Her legs were trembling as she came, too, not so long after he did. She could feel his lips pressed on her cheek as she reached climax.

One might have thought that a sex which started by fight would not solve the problem and yet either Tobias or Chiara did not think that way for this sex. Through the ragged pantings and trembling body, that was the sweetest, most comforting sex both had ever experienced. For it felt like getting consolation amidst the mess and fucked up reality.

That act of madness did not grow any guilt strangely so, Chiara had no idea how that would be possible. This time, it was not just sex, he did let her see that. In a span of the brief intercourse, he had the ability to make her feel what he said. The compassion, the side of him that she thought would never have existed, the emotion, she felt that.

“I want to let this grow.” He said whilst trying to control his breath, catching the air of oxygen just as much as he could. “I want this feeling to grow.”

Chiara smiled, the curve on her lips were finally curled heavenwards and she thought the same.

“I want that, too.”

And I love you.

She probably would never understand the meaning of love, she doubt he would ever as well. And yet it just slipped out at the back of her mind and arose from the pit of her stomach.

They both were well aware that they might be the most resented lovers the universe could have ever witnessed now. But just for once, after so long, after they both let it die long ago, for once they wanted to feel it.

They wanted to feel this.

They wanted to feel this love.

Little did they know, the invisible thread had been lingering around all this time, only they did not have much courage to see it with their eyes.

People have their own way of showing love. Some do it through words, some use their wealth to do so, some would present just whenever their lover wants them to, some yield the way Chiara did, some recklessly find it through the twist of life the way Tobias had it.

But love will remain as it is, for as long as one holds it close.

That night was not the end.

That night was only the beginning.

After all, he was still a husband to her aunt and the father of her cousins.

He was still the one that she shouldn’t have fallen for, not even in a million years.

⠀ 

⠀ 

⠀ 

Invisible Thread: Three

End Part.

[desvuse]

Invisible Thread: Two

His life was already ruined, it had been chaos for long. He knew he had no hope for that. Thus, he had no compassion left, nothing can be saved, nothing can ever be mend, not until the day where she made him feel like he was home.

They had tasted many intercourses, sex was nothing more than just physicall pleasure that they needed. It was just a pressed skin to skin, another body that could help them with their needs. They both thought of each other that way at first. Once, twice, until they’ve lost count on it. They thought it was because of the sex, but they could only think of each other as the ripest sweet. They would think of each other’s lips when theirs were pressed against another’s, they wanted to say each other’s name when they reached their point while having sex with another.

But why were their hearts ripped apart to face this truth? Why was she crying for this? Why did it hurt her? Why did it break him to see her cry? Why would they feel like this?

“No, no. Stay here, you need to--.”

“I’ve heard enough. That’s all enough reason for us to stop.”

He held her arms, firm enough to make her stay but gentle enough not to hurt her. He, with that bitter look on his face, begged her to stay. The deepest part of him did not want her to go, he did not want to lose her. As much as it sounded crazy, he felt what he felt. He wouldn’t mind being deemed as evil for wanting this to go on, even for a few minutes, he still wanted her to be with him, amidst all the chaos that he’d caused.

Chiasa was ready to push him so she could go, but he insisted on talking.

“This, Chiara. This house, that couch, that table, my bedroom, this house, Chiara,”

“It witnessed everything.”

“I don’t need to hear anything.”

If Tobias could ever be so honest in talking about his feelings, then that night was probably the only time he would let anyone witness that. His heart was broken, crushed real hard that he found it hard to breathe. He did not want to cut the thread, the thread that she grew out and lingered around him, the invisible thread that chained him yet he did not want to let loose. Tobias Gravese whom everyone sees as a noble man, for once again, was letting her see the wicked, all-consumed by ego, side of him. He did not care if she did not feel that thread, he wanted her to be with him.

“Let me go.”

He was punctured by countless tiny pins and she took it all out by saying the words, causing him to bleed. The blood gushed out of him, he doubted it would ever stop. He was strangled, tight, almost breathlessly so.

“Chiara,”

“Let me go.”

“I wanna go.”

“It is not just sex, Chiara.”

For a second, her heart stopped beating. The feeling rose from the pit of her stomach and it extended real quick, reaching her throat. For a second, it made her breathless. She looked up to the man, seeing it through his eyes. A part of her told herself that it was not a lie and yet the rest still did not want to believe him.

“Liar.”

“Then what about my Mom? Why--”

“Because I constantly feel sorry that I want at least for her to be happy, because the guilt—the guilt that I feel is unbearable.” Tobias did not usually cut her words, but he did. She knew he was telling her truth, not to mention how he sounded mad and also hurt. “Hoping that she would be okay is the very least that I could do. For once I want to feel okay about what I feel. For once, for once, Chiara, I want to feel this.”

“What do you feel? Ashamed? Wrongful?” She scoffed, still tears running down her face. Her eyes were red, in madness and confusion. “Do you even think about it? What kind of feeling that you’d possibly have now? Are you even capable of it?”

He gulped down and Chiara could feel his grips were getting tighter around her arms and for some reason, she felt the pain that he had.

“I..” He took a deep breath, stuttering, as he shut his eyes for a brief moment.

His heart was beating so hard, so hard that he felt like even she could hear it. His soul was pierced, but he had never felt so alive in forever. He had no words, he had no idea what to say and he hoped he could have just shown it to her, about what he wanted to say.

And so he kissed her.

He held her cheeks and leaned closer, pressing his lips against her, even when he knew that she would push him and get mad, he kissed her. He had never kissed anyone like that, in madness and desperation. He never thought a kiss would have gone this emotional, he never thought a kiss would have meant something more than an expression of lust.

He kissed her.

Like what he’d guessed, her arms started to push him, trying to fight the force which was clearly not equal in power, of hers and his. “You are--” She tried to curse him in between the kiss that actually shattered her heart for once again, in between her throbbing heart and inevitable pain, in between her feelings and her sane logic. There was a part of her that wanted to say how crazy he was for what he did but there was also something that wished he would not stop.

She could taste that, the agony and bitterness through his lips. The feeling that she had been trying to deny and everything else that she had no capability in getting rid off. She felt that. She felt the taste of madness, knowing that he had been trying to not show it to her. That night, she felt that.

“Let me go!”

By one push, she tried to force everything that she had to make him stop. There was still something in her that cannot stand the pain.

“It is not just sex, Chiara.”

His tone was loud and firm. It was also raw and pure, he had never let anyone hear him in that state. As if he had been tormented all his life and the only thing that could have saved him was by letting her know.

“It is how I speak without having to say a word. It is how I ache for you. It is how I burn and heal and burn again,”

“for you.”

In one breath, he tried to let her know about what he had been hiding. Perhaps it was rage, rage that came from how he had to keep it all by himself.

“I dread nothing in this life but you.”

He looked at her straight into her eyes, so deep, letting her see that what he said was nothing but a naked truth. At that very moment, he felt like could have died in agony if he did not tell her about it. Who would have ever thought he’d fall in love with her? Not even himself would have let it happen but this time, this time he wanted the feeling to stay.

So he leaned closer, a little gentler than the previous kiss, he landed his lips on hers whilst having his hands holding her tiny face. Tobias would have prayed to get her permission to kiss her right now. He did not predict that Chiara would grip onto his shirt, at first he thought she would have pushed him again, but he couldn’t seem to understand this one. It felt like she was hesitating yet he could not comprehend what she was so hesitant about. And it made him stop, growing an inch of distance in between their lips as his eyes caught another tear rolling down her cheeks.

“Please,”

“Let me.”

He left a peck on her lips ever so lovingly. “Let me feel this.”

Her eyes slowly glanced at his and he let her see through it, her grip was getting a little too tight, like she was trying so hard to fight something within. Amidst the shattering heart, tormented soul, doubtful mind. Amidst the guilt and agony, she yielded.

She was disgusted with herself and yet she wanted him more than anything. The feeling rushed through her veins, pervaded wild through her whole being. The entirety of her wanted him, too, just as much as he did.

And she kissed him.

She kissed him, shutting her eyes and pulled him closer, pressing her lips on his. By that he knew that he had grown an invisible thread that reached her, lingered around tightly, and he wished it would stay that way for long.

⠀ 

⠀ 

⠀ 

Invisible Thread: Two

End Part.

[desvuse]

Invisible Thread: One

He was tongue-tied, unable to speak.

It looked as if he would have let it be even if he were to be beaten cruelly to kiss the death, hopeless and careless. He felt weak on the knees, the type of weakness that would make one feel nauseous and eventually throw up, for he was stripped all naked in front of her even before he got to say anything. The slap on his face told her more than enough to know that there had been something going on between him and her mother. He had no other option than to tell her the truth, the one that had been veiled for long, covered in a fancy layer of ignorance and rage.

Truth is not designed to be accepted by everyone. Truth can also be subjective to some, for they would only think of something as it is when they want it to be. Truth may hurt, some would even see it equals lies. But truth is not meant to be simple, since it is meant to matter, significantly so.

She wanted to know that, she wanted to know the truth. No matter how it would wrench and shatter her heart, she was more than ready to be crushed. Life hadn’t been so loving towards her, anyway. Yet the only words that slipped past his lips were his order for her to get into the car as he opened the door of his S class Mercedes-Benz after the intense fight that lasted for nearly three minutes, three minutes of him being all cornered, defenseless. Chiara had no choice, she desperately wanted him to spill the truth and so she did what he said.

“You have all the time to tell me what’s going on.”

He did, he had all the time to speak the truth but he remained silent whilst getting the gauge of car speed raised, almost reaching a hundred before she, for once more, also raised the tone of her voice in desperation.

“Tell me! Would you?!”

Little did she know, he was, too, desperate. He had been squeezing his brain out just to think of the words and explanation that he’d give to her. It would have been much easier if he made something up and covered it all once again. Yet he didn’t think he’d deserve to breathe the same air as her if he ever did that.

He suddenly stepped on the brake pedal, making the car tires screeching loudly, rubbing against the asphalt on the busy streets of Jakarta. The bustle of the city couldn't even beat the boisterous emotions in her mind, Chiara almost had a hard time catching her breath when the car suddenly stopped. He had his hand still gripping onto the steering wheel ever so tightly, nearly looking like he was about to crush it into pieces. He looked down for a brief moment before his head was held up high again, slowly, and turned around to face her.

With the tired look in his eyes, the sadness that was also clearly seen through his expression, her lips were shut tight, not having the heart to speak of anything anymore.

“I owe you an explanation, I know.”

“But can you wait until we get home?”

Sometimes, truth reveals itself, even when it is hidden underneath abundant sheets and layers of lies, even when it is kept far beyond reality. Truth doesn’t rely on possibilities, some have none of it. It relies on itself, drawing a distinctive line between what we want to hear and what we do not. Not all truths are kind, some are ill-mannered, ill-intentioned, ill-fated. Sometimes, truth is no better than the lies one can make.

Tobias used to live alongside truth and lies or any other contradictions as much as Chiara had tasted all the defeats and the triumphs. Countless misfortunes and turning points did not make him a master of it. He spent the rest of the road with nothing but his own thoughts, his own misery. They let the silence take over, filling the space as the car brought them both to his place. The place where nobody but Chiara could touch, the place where he let no one but Chiara in, the place that witnessed the madness between the two.

She waited for long enough to hear him saying at least a word. Nothing other than painful silence was heard even after they made their way inside the building. Tobias barged in without minding her who was following him just a few meters behind and went straight to get his Sauvignon and  drank it aggressively. The sight made her hesitate to open her mouth, as if she was seeing someone else, someone that had the capability to hurt her.

“Your parents,” Tobias started to open his mouth, with his body still facing the kitchen table and his fingers playing around the half-filled glass of wine. “They are probably the ones who hate my existence the most.”

Chiara wanted to let him finish his words but he kept on taking another shot of his drink and didn’t say anything else for the next two minutes, so she responded to him with what was inside her head.

“Because you fuck me?”

That question made him scoff just right before he drank the last shot of the Sauvignon and then turned around to finally face Chiara.

“Because of this.”

His fingers were pointing to the house and it slowly moved around, indirectly telling her that he meant the entire building.

“This,” he touched the kitchen table.

“Also that.” Now his hand pointed at the couch near.

Chiara didn’t seem to understand anything. “What do you mean by that?”

“And the bathroom,”

“Or my bed.”

“Even my backyard.”

She could have asked him for an explanation but she decided to wait, she knew he was trying to do so. After more than a whole solid minute, Tobias took off his glasses and put it on the table whilst having his legs moving forward, directing to Chiara.

“At first I thought the same.”

“I thought the reason why fucking you was so good, was because I know that they hate me and the bastard that I am, I wanted a revenge.”

It hurt. It did hurt her even though Tobias was also a tool, a toy that she would play with, something that she can use just whenever she felt the unbearable pain of her past. It did hurt her, a little more than she would’ve thought it would. Yet she knew that it was fair that way, it was what they agreed on having. The equal benefits and pleasure. And so she let him continue, both walking towards her and finishing his words.

“I thought fucking you once was enough. I thought it was the intercourse that played the role, I thought it was lust and my ego that took control.”

Tobias was now so close to her, standing in front of her figure in his messy white shirt with both sleeves rolled up around his elbow. He brought a few strands of her hair to the back of her ear ever so gently and lovingly. She could feel his skin run through hers, the same skin of his fingers that she liked to suck, that she liked to guide it down to touch her sweet bud, that she liked when they traveled along her body.

“I thought it would have made me happy to deceive them by fucking you.”

That one, too, wrecked her heart. Yet the one thing that Chiara did not realize was him talking about the past event.

“Why? Why would they hate you? Why bother taking revenge?”

A faint smile, either genuine or fake, was seen on his visage.

“Your brother.”

“Your brother happened because your father fucked--” he scoffed and laughed a little, his eyes shut briefly, he felt a little suffocated to even say it. “Your father,” Tobias had never been so hesitant about anything. Yet bringing himself to the day where he actually was letting her know about this, it was beyond his prediction. Not because he was ashamed, but because he knew he did not live there as the old vengeful Tobias anymore.

“he fucked your mother.”

“And why would that—”

Chiara had the answer inside her mind before she even finished her question.

“Don’t tell me—”

“It is what you think it is.”

Silence. She was unable to process it all at once and she was hoping that it was only a dream. Yet his eyes did not tell her lies, it was stating otherwise.

“You—”

Her hand moved to finally reach his face, a slap was given, a hard one, on his face. Tobias did not move, he knew he deserved that. If she could ask for the deity to burn the universe, she would have asked to make Tobias suffer the most. Deceived, brutally, she felt that raging inside her whole body. She scoffed, nearly laughing at herself for having no single clue about it.

“You are crazy.”

She was so close to tears, her heart was wrenched hard, crushed, betrayed.

“I am—”

“You are,”

“Disgusting.”

“You jerk.”

Stuttered and trembling, her body can’t even take the truth. There was a part of her being ripped, torn in two. She was also disgusted at herself, for being an object to hurt her parents, though they had not been close to her, there was this feeling that made her want to vanish. She couldn’t think of anything but to curse at Tobias and nothing else. Yet she felt suffocated, she couldn't even move no matter how much she wanted to.

“You came into my family for this? And you fuck me because of my parents?”

“Can’t you even imagine how disgusting that is?!”

Through the cracking tone of her voice, Tobias could feel how it hurt her deeply and how he wished he could turn back the time to repent for his sins. What they had been doing was wrong, the thought of it alone was more than enough to disgust everyone and yet knowing the reason behind it was beyond what one could face. But aside from what he’s confessed, Chiara felt like she had no rights to get mad, for she did that with consent, fully sane, fully aware of the wrongdoings. She took a part and played a major role in it, too. She had more than enough reasons to resent herself just as much.

Things would have gone differently if Tobias had told her from the first about it. Perhaps this shall never happen and yet what can one do for they can’t go back in time and redo everything.

“It’s true that I have my reasons for marrying my wife but then,”

That was the night where Tobias would never have thought of saying what he had been keeping all this time. That was the time where he would let her know. If the truth was all she asked, he was more than ready to tell her.

“You happened.”

You happened. Tears that had been gathering at the edge of her eyes were finally rolling down her cheek, she couldn’t contain it all for any longer. It shouldn’t have hurt, right? It shouldn’t have made her cry. He was just another man, right? He was just another privilege that she got.

“Let’s not meet again.”

“Let’s end it all here.”

⠀ 

⠀ 

⠀ 

Invisible Thread: One

End Part.⠀ 

⠀ 

[desvuse]

To Listen,

TW: Explicit sexual innuendos, age gap.

⠀ 

⠀ 

He used to read literature when he was a child.

Some are still on his shelves, some are nowhere to be found. Perhaps they are being all stacked and dusty just somewhere at the corner of his house. He used to read and often got lost in the words written on the broken white papers of those books. Ever so often, his brother could have called him three times in annoyance just to get his attention for being so engrossed in the book.

She loved to write.

Some of her writings are still inside her drawer just right beside her bed, in a bundle of old papers and fading ink on it. She keeps everything still, dearly to her heart. She keeps them close and treats them as if they are some kind of talisman that no one can touch. Some others are long gone, all that is left from them are the glimpse of memory that she could never just let go.

When one speaks about benefits in a field of business, we can declare it as a success if both parties are getting equal benefits and are satisfied with the result. But what they have between the two of them is not a business. And one cannot just easily know if the other party is satisfied. The parameter is a blur, the line is unclear, and the limit is practically unknown. Most of the time, taking wild guesses is the only way to grasp the idea of getting an equal satisfaction.

Is one capable to think of love as they think of sharing an equal benefit?

He used to treat love the way he treated his business. He had a whole lot of it on his palm and anyone could simply tell that the man was never fond of the idea about love. Perhaps, it was certain and significant pain that changed him. Yet no one knew where the pain came from. All they know, he despised it. To the very core of his heart.

Love has always been a joke to him. To think too highly of love makes him feel disgusted.

Yet she still sees it as his way of showing that he’s been ignorant for that.

“Have you ever thought of it?”

“Pain,”

She can’t seem to understand his question. She is still naked on his bed, only covered by the thin fabric of the sheet of his white and crumpled blanket. And he is standing there, half-naked, facing the giant glass that allows him to see the view of the flickering city light with a glass of his favorite Sauvignon.

“What about it?”

He takes a light sip of his wine as before he continues his question. His eyes are latched to what his sight serves him yet his mind is busy with something else, one of them is to get back to bed and get her for another round.

“Why can’t a pain from heartbreak taste just like the pain from sex? The one that will give pleasure and cause no one any loss.”

She scoffs whilst holding back a little laughter as she rolls her body over to face the back of the man. “Seriously?”

He stands still, finding no wrong in his question and she heaves out a long sigh. The man can get a little too unpredictable sometimes.

“Are you seriously asking this right now?”

The one thing that she couldn’t really do is to truly understand him. Even the question he has asked just now sounds a little too serious to be a joke but too random to be considered as a serious question. Yet she likes him for that. The mysterious side of him that no one seems able to crack open or the deadbolt of his locked mind that one could never find success in trying to encrypt it.

“There’s a tem of masochists and I believe you are more than knowledgeable to understand about it.” She decides to say something just right before she gets up from the bed with nothing on her body, making her way to the bathroom, leaving him in his exact position.

He used to be fond of the way people write about romance and love. He used to read any kind of books, any kind of literature, just as much as he could. He did not ditch any one of it, even the ones with all fluff, tearjerker novels of romance. He used to think of the way people fall in love. He was once awake until late at night when he finished reading about Irene Adler and her ways of showing her love to Sherlock Holmes.

And he wanted that.

For some reasons, he used to think of how he wanted an all consuming love. The love that he would want it to last, for him to worship. He thought that kind of love defined perfection. If he could, he would have been the perfect man one could ever ask for.

But true love was never written in a book, he didn’t know that.

Love could never be explained and defined as if it was some kind of physical formula that everyone could learn by the book. It will grow differently from one to another.

“I need to wake up early and go to the filming site right away.”

“Okay.”

He says nothing more and goes straight to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls her close. So close until it is her scent that washed through his pointed nose. It is sweet. Airy sweet scent of hers that he has been storing inside his memory since last year. Eyes are now shut as he inhales before he gently pulls the side of her bathrobe down, exposing her shoulder for him to see, and leaves some light kisses on it. His strong, muscular arms are embracing her close until the warmth of his body is what she could feel.

“Then we have some time to spend.”

To some, sex is just some kind of physical touch, an intercourse, a pressed of skin to skin. To some, sex is some kind of biological needs, a fullfilment of one’s desire, a fluctuating hormones inside. To some, sex is what one does when they are bored. To some, sex is how one communicate with another. To some, sex is a deal, an agreement between parties. To some, sex is trust.

And to some, sex is to feel and to express something more than just a pleasure.

⠀ 

It is how one connects to another.

Without having to say a word.

Without having to speak.

But they would understand.

⠀ 

He thinks of it that way, with her.

⠀ 

Yet he keeps on denying that one fact. He wants this to go with no intricate feeling between them two. He wants this to be just as it is, just like how he deals with his business and her with hers. Something that they do for the sake of that equal benefit.

He puts his hand on her neck, from behind her back, as he lets his skin touch her, feeling how soft her skin is against his, feeling the pulsating veins underneath, feeling blood rushing through the canals, feeling the slowly burning desire.

The muscles of one of his arms twitch, moving her hair away to expose the skin of her neck, giving himself an access to place his lips on it, tasting every inch of its texture. This makes him feel something deep inside, just right at the back of his mind, something that is very close to desire. But it means a lot more than that to him.

He used to have sex for the sake of pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. It used to be easy for him to get one woman and jump into another one in a span of a week or even days. He used to keep it brief, nearly sounds like a lot of one night stands. Another reason why he loves to rent a suite from one five star hotel to another, just so it would make it easier for him to leave in the morning when he’s done with his business.

⠀ 

He never comes back.

But to her, he does.

⠀ 

Life is a matter of changes and surprises. Some stay the same but some are just meant to change. He used to correlate love with sex, just like how he read it in a book. That human’s brain has these spaces, side to side, placed very closely to one another, which both are filled with love and lust. He used to believe in it. Yet the moment he got his worst heartbreak, he no longer wants to believe in it. Sex is sex. It would never have any business with love.

Yet right now he has himself turning her body around, lifting it up and placing it on the lavatory made out of marbles in his very own bathroom. This is not the presidential suite of a hotel downtown Jakarta, or somewhere around the world. This is his own condo, his own place. He did not let anyone come to his place, preventing any intricacies, not wanting any boundaries. Yet he has her half-naked in front of him and this is not her first time, this is not their first, this shall not be their last either.

He places his palms on her cheeks, rubbing his thumb on her skin very gently, as he leans closer and leaves a loving kiss on her forehead before then he whispers close to her.

“May I?” His voice is calm, sweet, and gentle. He sounds so much like he’s in love.

When her head nods slowly, in between her breaths that get warmer and warmer because of his touch, he kisses her. The delicate, sweet, and soft lips of hers. He is feeling every inch, every movement, every perishable breath, ever so softly at first that slowly it turns into a kiss that carries, that contains emotion. A kiss where he could feel her lips blossom and every move sends tremor throughout her nerves. A kiss where her tongue sweeps inside of his warm cavern, contorting around, feeling how close he is to her right now.

In another universe, he is whispering all those sweet nothings to her ear just right before his lips let the words of ‘I love you’ escape. In another universe, they wish everything to last. In another universe, he would accept what he feels and she would stop creating scenarios inside her head.

He used to read literature when he was a child.

And she loved to write.

He no longer wants to believe in fiction, or to some writings as a result of one’s imagination. He already tossed some--or even most of his novels that once made him feel content. Little does he know, he is still an avid reader.

⠀ 

Of a situation,

Of a place,

Of a time,

Of a human,

Of a feeling.

⠀ 

But he fails in trying to read himself.

⠀ 

“Sweetheart,” he mutters in between their kiss as his hands are down South, finding a way to her sweet bud.

And she moans in between their kisses, in between his touch, in between her desperate look.

This is supposed to be the benefit that he thinks about. This is supposed to be enough. Yet the constant craving makes him question everything every now and then. He wants to think that she is just the same as any other girls that he used to sleep with, temporary and replaceable. He wants to believe it that way. But why would he let her come again and again? Why would he let her stay until the morning comes, filling their sleepless nights with her stories? Why would he let her vent to him? Why would he let the emotion within herself show?

⠀ 

Why is he thinking of her?

⠀ 

He never liked to spend his time in vain. Purpose and advantage shall be the ones he would prioritize just whenever he does something. And he tends to keep every meeting or encounter with someone else as brief as he could.

Yet he spends a lot with her. Sometimes with nothing but the two of them enjoying the presence of one another.

⠀ 

To be with her is like reading a book.

He feels something.

⠀ 

He used to read literature when he was a child.

Some are still on his shelves, some are nowhere to be found. Perhaps they are being all stacked and dusty just somewhere at the corner of his house. He used to read and often got lost in the words written on the broken white papers of those books. Ever so often, his brother could have called him three times in annoyance just to get his attention for being so engrossed in the book.

She loved to write.

Some of her writings are still inside her drawer just right beside her bed, in a bundle of old papers and fading ink on it. She keeps everything still, dearly to her heart. She keeps them close and treats them as if they are some kind of talisman that no one can touch. Some others are long gone, all that is left from them are the glimpse of memory that she could never just let go.

She has all those scenarios of possibilities and assumptions crafted inside her mind and she reads it through the body language, words that slip past her lips, or the little things that she does.

He listens to her, to every word and every tone, every action and every move, and it feels so much like reading all those words in his books just like an avid reader that he once was. As if the empty space, the hole, the dusty hollow inside of him is filled again and that makes him feel content.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

That makes him feel like he is himself.

⠀ ⠀ 

And little does he know,

that is his way of loving her.

⠀ ⠀ 

If this is what love should taste like,

for whom can this love be said to be true?

⠀ ⠀ 

For what is written and said before God, he vowed and married the sister of her own father long before this happened.

⠀ ⠀ 

⠀ ⠀ 

To Listen,: End Part.

[desvuse]

The Invitation

Tags: Explicit, Sexual Innuendos, Age Gap.

Chiara never actually understands how her family works, or it is very much likely that she will never. No matter how she tries to think that her relationship with the family is considered to be normal, there will always be something that she would not know. Perhaps that is, too, how everyone is thinking about. Not only to Chiara, but also to the rest of the family members.

Having to work under the constant spotlight almost all her life, she continues to learn how to hide things. In both bad and good terms, she becomes more and more proficient at that. Everyone who is walking in her shoes would definitely do the same. By trying to cover things up and let it be left veiled behind the thick shield. As much as she loathed lies or simply to lie, she has learnt that sometimes to speak something that is not true might be necessary. Especially when it comes to the life of a scandalous actress who is carrying the name of a respectful family.

“Are you coming?” It was the brief phone call that she had to make.

“Are you expecting me not to?”

Chiara laughed, if his hearing was sharp enough, he would have heard a slightly bitter tone in between the laughter. Yet, even she was sure that he did not.

“Even if I am, I don’t think you’d skip this.”

“Then why bother asking, young lady?”

He might never be the best conversationalist out there but he sure does know how to handle her pretty well. No, scratch that. He does know how to handle her perfectly. Ever since the day when she met him, accidentally, at the hospital, sitting beside the unconscious Raynald Lieberman, they never stopped talking up until this very day. No matter how busy, there are just ways for them to exchange texts or calls, even if it is just for a minute or less.

It has only been months since the first day they kissed, without anyone--not even herself--could explain how it happened, and thus making this will be the first family meeting for them two with something more than what an uncle and a niece have.

“Can I meet you tonight?”

That sounded more like an order, a command, something that Chiara would never have enough power to say ‘no’. As if her body just moved along with it and with no single doubt, she nodded and gave out an agreement.

And she is here right now, inside a presidential suite hotel room that he booked for about a week now. Tobias Gravese and his ways of spending money. He has the finest houses and condominiums across the city but he chooses to spend it all from one five hotel room to another. He thinks that would leave him with no trace, way safer, way better. And to see it based on her perspective, Chiara could not complain because that, too, works for her. Besides, she is the one to be at the advantage in the case right now. She could taste all the luxury and pleasure. Although she, too, has all the money to spend just as much, spending time with him would be the major difference and that costs much, clearly. His time is not something that Chiara could easily get, and when he does want to meet, he would give all his time and would not let every second pass too quickly to be spent in vain.

Chiara likes him for that.

“It’s been a week and we will spend another week of missing each other because of that damn invitation.” He whispers from the back, he whispers close to her ear whilst having both of his hands running through the skin of hers, from her dainty fingers all the way up to let his slip in between the straps of her dress. Skin to skin, the slight moves that he makes send the sensation throughout her whole figure.

“Is that your way of saying that you miss me?”

He emits a faint smirk at the corner of his lips before he places his lips on her shoulder.

“That is my way of saying that I want you.” The words slip past his lips just right before he spins her around, both facing each other with almost no significant distance in between. So close that she could feel his warm breath sweeping across her lips.

Chiara thought it would be nothing but an exchange of information between her and him. He was just someone who married the sister of her father and nothing more. He was just that, almost invisible all her life but ever since the day when she knew that Tobias was close to Raynald, she could not just see him as that. He became something more to her. Something that she thought could lure in and fall into her trap. Perhaps he did and perhaps she, too, fell for his.

In time of desperation, Chiara found something deep inside Tobias that she could never find in others. Many men, countless of it, Chiara simply felt something more coming from the said person. He was--he is slowly becoming more than a source of information, more than someone whom she supposedly addresses as an uncle. Any information, or just the slightest of it, when it comes to Raynald, Chiara would feel utterly grateful for that. But Tobias gives her more than just information. He gives her comfort and a little too much joy along the way.

“If the invitation means the whole week of holding myself back to not do this when I see you,” he kisses her ear while slowly moving his hand down South, reaching for the black thong under her favorite mini dress.

She bites her lower lip almost immediately, just as soon as she sees his veiny hand trailing down her body to finally let him slip his fingers inside. Her eyes secretly glancing at him, confessing to herself of how weak she is for his touch.

“Then tonight shall pay for that.”

He leans closer to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers as they shut their eyes close. Sweet, they both know how sweet and addicting it is to kiss each other. As if they have been craving for each other’s touch for too long. Too long that tonight, the only thing she would remember is his name and the only thing that he would think of is her touch.

As the sound of the ticking clockwise echoed through the room, her moanings started to fill the void as well. And it makes him hard, hard enough that the next thing he knows is to pin her down, bending her over the counter and let the palm of his hand leave some reddish mark on her rear end.

“Tell me, little one, do you want this?”

He never meant to hurt anyone but he is sure that he would never be a saint. There are holes inside of him, throughout his life, in between the perfectly coated suit that he wears. There are a lot that no one could see, not even himself could tell much about it. He does not show or express as he feels but he does as he thinks. Meeting her at the hospital that day changed quite a lot of things as he does, too, change. Whenever he gets to spend time with her, he feels the unexplainable ecstasy that runs all over his brain, giving the head full of joy, as if he has never been touched by happiness before.

Chiara was unlike any other women that he used to sleep with, secretly behind his wife. He has been one unfaithful man, Chiara knows about it just as much. She knows exactly what type of a man he is, despite the stories that are still left unraveled within him. She knows the taste of unfaithfulness. She knows the taste of those who are seeking for satisfaction. She knows the taste of sorrow.

“Say it, love.”

“Beg for it.”

It was just a kiss, a drunk kiss. But things don’t stay where they were. Some change, some flip the other way around, some disappear. Just like how they both changed the way they see each other, or the way lust has taken over, or the way they did not want to let the family name get in their way.

There was rage. Whenever Chiara kissed him, all she could think of was the rage that she felt when she saw her father kissing another woman. Whenever Tobias kissed her, all he could think of was the rage that he felt when he knew his first love marrying another man. Both sources of their pain are the ones they call family now.

Perhaps, that is how they mend the pain. Putting all the vengeance into each other, filling it all with the past, and washing it away with the same betrayal and disappointment.

And yet as time goes by, as it is no longer their body that takes control, as it is no longer the heart that they left behind, something might have taken over now.

They simply want each other.

They long for each other.

Intimately so, they no longer understand what is happening in between the two of them.

“Daddy, please..”

If it is for the consolation when they both don’t get to taste love, then things should not last this long. If it is for the lust that grows as they get close, then there should be something more than just the intercourse.

ㅤ

ㅤ

If it is for revenge, then they should not feel this way.

ㅤ

ㅤ

[desvuse]

If Loving You Was an Act of Vain,

ㅤㅤㅤ

if loving you was an act of vain

then i shall declare myself as foolish

for i found myself filling every empty

headspace of mine with the thought of you

ㅤㅤㅤ

and yet all that was left to be felt,

all that was long to be saved

were the rage and the desire of

having more, more, more of you

ㅤㅤㅤ

i know that this shall not fade, no matter

how long it may be left dead and obsolete

there will still be love of mine for you, darling,

in every inch of my demise

ㅤㅤㅤ

you will still find me in every slow and

long stroke of the air that you breathe

i will still be with you even when i face

death and wither along with forever

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

[desvuse]

The Art of Losing

Trigger Warning: mention of death and depression.

. . .

How does one convey the meaning of losing?

That day, Chiara Ziascha was almost losing her sanity.

Massachusetts was rather bright, slightly cloudy, and she was there sitting on a well-known hospital waiting chair with tears almost falling down rolling to her cheeks. Her fingers were fidgeting with her favorite black pants around the knee and unconsciously scratching its nails against the fabric. Those dark orbs of hers were staring blankly at the tip of her shoes whilst her head was filled with nothing but the memories of the past few days. From the morning when she woke up until late at night, when she wished to be asleep instead of writing worst case scenarios inside her head. It had been almost three months since she moved to Cambridge and it had also been that long she tried to accept the fact that he was no longer there with her.

“Waiting for your turn?”

Chiara wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her and thus, the voice surprised her that she immediately got back to her senses. It was an old lady, aged around sixty, who was sitting on the accent chair exactly across where her chair was placed. She shifted her focus to the source of the question and for a second, she did not know what to say.

“Is it you after the one who’s inside?”

“I see number three on your paper.”

Her eyes moved along with the words that slipped past the old lady’s lips, and to the small paper it was stealing a glance at the big sized font of a number on it. Chiara quickly emitted an awkward and forceful smile while she looked back at the lady.

“Yes,”

“Yes, I suppose.”

She thought the question would have just ended there but the lady seemed to be bored and she looked like she needed someone to talk to.

“Is this your first time?”

“It is, it is my first time coming here.”

“Why did you choose Thursday out of the rest?”

Chiara did not know if the question was important or it was just the lady who simply wanted a conversation. She did not mean to be rude or disrespectful but frankly, she did not plan to speak to anyone today. Although the psychiatrist was an exception. Yet, out of respect, Chiara managed to say something.

“Because I have no other option. I did not actually get to choose, other days are said to be fully booked. And Thursday is all I have left.”

Losing was, too, not an option. She didn’t get to choose whether or not she wanted to lose him. Her answer would be a definite no, everyone in her position would have answered the same. That, if the deity had the game of choosing and everyone was invited to play along just every single time a decision was about to be made. No one gets to choose when they are losing, everyone hates to lose. And for her, the game of goodbye was never something that she would have ever wanted to play.

Just like the moment when she had to move to Cambridge and leave Hopkinton for the sake of herself, for the sake of moving on with life. She did not get to choose, she had no other option but to move, just anywhere. Somewhere that was completely different from Hopkinton. As much as her heart wanted to stay and no matter how suffocating it was to just travel 23 miles away from the place where she should have built her small, loving family. She had to move, she needed to move. Cambridge was her best deal, it was not very much far from Hopkinton. In fact, she only needed to spend half an hour to go to Hopkinton just in case she ever missed something from the small town.

Because a part of her still wanted to stay.

“You are not from here, are you?”

“I’m not. I’ve just moved not long ago. From Hopkinton.”

The old lady seemed surprised that she straightened her sitting position just as soon as she heard the name of the town.

“Oh, really? Hopkinton?”

“My son lives there.”

They used to live there, too. It was a magical two years for her but a part of her died in Hopkinton and if she could, she would have asked to not move to Hopkinton. She would have stayed in Melbourne and perhaps, by that, she did not have to lose him. All those ‘it might have been’ scenarios inside her head were so much more than what she was capable of handling. Thus, it led her to exactly where she was sitting across that old lady who kept on asking her questions.

“Oh, really?” muttered Chiara as she shifted her focus back to the tip of her shoes. Every little memory that she had there was suddenly replaying inside the headspace of hers.

“Yes.”

“Why did you move here?”

Because I had to. One could never describe the struggle of moving on. Some don’t even believe in that particular term. Some said it is too complicated. Some simply just don’t know. Chiara, too, did not know what it meant to move on. One would have no word to say about the excruciating pain of losing. To begin moving on from the past, they said one needs to accept the reality and let go. But a part of her still couldn’t accept the fact and she frankly thought that she would never want to. A part of her lived in Hopkinton along with the past two years of the life she spent together with him. A part of her stayed in Hopkinton and she never wished to get out of the place. And a part of her desperately wanted to change everything.

Humans with all of its emotions. Complex and unfathomable at times. Losing was never something that she liked. If anything, it had always been something that she deeply loathed. He was hers for years, she invested almost, nearly everything, just all of her life for him. To say that he was beautiful would sound so much like a simple term she always chose to describe him. He was so much, so much more than beautiful. He was the love that Chiara would never dare to question. It was pure, so pure that her heart could burst just thinking of him. He was the love that Chiara could never lose. But she did.

She lost him.

“Work.”

It was a lie that Chiara chose to tell instead of explaining and recalling all the painful truth. She thought that would be best to keep it short and simple. She brushed her fingers through her hair, trying so hard to act normal, to act like it was nothing, to not cry or shed a tear in front of the old lady. Truth be told, even if she wanted to tell everyone about what she went through, the words halted in the middle of her throat just before she could utter even a single word, tongue-tied. A part of her thought it was completely her fault that he left and she deserved to feel the pain, as if the deity asked her to keep it all inside because she had to taste every painful sorrow because of what she did.

“The place is nice. I guess that is the reason why he barely visits me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if he hates me.”

Perhaps, he hated her, too. Perhaps, that was the reason why sometimes she thought that it was better that he left. It was the fair punishment that she deserved. But a part of her said that if she were to be walking in the old lady’s shoes, Chiara would prefer to be hated rather than to be left. Because if that was the case, deep down she knew that it meant he existed, he lived. She did not have to bear the pain of watching him dying during his last breath, she did not have to live her life avoiding cars and vehicles all her life. She did not have to face his death. And even if he did not want to see her, she could at least have the chance to see him. She did not have to bear the pain of watching him dying during his last breath, she did not have to live her life avoiding cars and vehicles all her life. She did not have to face his death. She would still have the hope of getting him back into her embrace. She could still hope that he would return.

But he never did.

“Are you married? Or do you have a child?”

There was a long, painful silence upon hearing the question that slipped out of the old lady’s lips. Her mouth felt so dry, as if it could bleed just whenever she began to speak. The world stopped moving, everything stopped moving. The question crossed her heart, so deep that it went straight past herself. She lost it. It was hard for her to breath and everything felt so suffocating. The clock ticked so loud in every second, her heart beat slower that it nearly died, her sight was getting blurry. She could feel the pain pervaded throughout her whole body. In a split of seconds, Chiara forced herself to get up and yet she fell. She fell onto the floor and she couldn’t help it. Everything just hurt.

“Miss! Miss!”

“Are you okay?!”

“Miss!”

Some women were shouting out her name, she heard it echoed inside her head, vaguely so. Her eyes blinked slowly with the faint sight of the old lady and a few more people trying to help her. She lost it. She lost him. She lost everything. Yet she pushed herself to answer the old lady’s question in between her tattered breathing, just right before everything went black.

“I have.. He..”

“My son.. He was alive..”

There is a term for someone who’s lost their parents, wife, husband; but not a single term exists for someone who’s lost their child.

How does one convey the meaning of losing?

The Art of Losing: End Part.

[desvuse]

Pleasure

T/W: Sexual Innuendos, Age Gap, Explicit.

People seek pleasure most of the time. Some traveled far, some gave too much, some even sacrificed things for pleasure. Chiara did not know love as well as she knew pain and sorrow. But she did know about pleasure even better than those two. Growing up by learning almost everything the hard way, Chiara came to the phase where she did not want to miss anything, especially when things could bring her pleasure. Life would never guarantee anyone anything, even those who have worked so hard, giving every drop of blood, sweat, and tears, still, nothing in the world was created along with any guarantee. At least that was what she thought.

Anaïs Nin once said in her book called Delta of Venus, saying that ecstasy could be created through the united beat of sex and heart. Perhaps, Chiara knew about it, too. Or she would, one day, she was never really certain of it. She may have tasted sex more than she could capable of counting so, but to know what was the meaning beyond the intercourse was never her forte. Never once came across her mind to try unraveling what was veiled behind it. Chiara was simply an ordinary woman who could be craving for one’s touch. And sex, sex for her was just another way of how one would communicate with another.

All those kisses that she exchanged were merely two pairs of lips being pressed against each other, nothing more, and so were the intercourses. From her place to some fancy five stars hotel room, from one man to another, Chiara had it all. Her youth was so alive that she had no regret of dwelling in it the way she did. She might would never know what was the meaning behind all those sex that she had, let alone creating the true ecstasy like one of her favorite authors once said. But her voice sounded like love, her lips tasted like love, and her body felt so much like love. Even the ring around her finger did not stop her from seeking the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, yes. Daddy— Nggh..”

“I miss having to spread my legs like this to make way for daddy to fuck me hard.”

“Ah, Daddy, please—”

Chiara moved her hip in circular motion, playing with the tip of his rigid length as she moaned in pleasure. She was on his messy desk, half naked. Her body was covered only by the thin fabric of her shirt with nothing underneath. He, on the other hand, was still wearing his shirt with its sleeve rolled up around his elbow and he still had his pants around his lower part of the body.

“You do, little one?” He asked her in between those heavy breaths. That deep voice of his that she had been missing, that tone, that term of endearment. It turned her on even more.

She nodded her head, rather in an obedient manner, as if she answered to his question not because she wanted to, but because she had to. The room was dark and the only source of light was coming from the dim orange light of a standing lamp at the corner of the room. “Sshhh,” she hissed as she could feel the tingling sensation around her dripping folds as it touched the skin of his hardened length.

“I miss having my legs up against your shoulders while you’re deep inside me.” She couldn’t stop with her own imagination. The thought of him alone drove her insane, as if the slightest thought of his skin could send her off the edge. “Fuck— ngh, Daddy,” she mouthed out, barely inaudibly as she could feel his right hand and its fingers was running around her nipple before he had his mouth latched around it.

It all started with a kiss. A light, casual kiss that just happened one night at a business party that they both had to attend. Blame the alcohol, yes, perhaps the kiss happened because both of them were under the influence. But what happened after, they were sane enough to say that it was what they wanted. They wanted each other like they were addicted to a drug.

“Now that I have felt how hard you are against my tongue,” she paused as she tried to catch her breath from holding it a few times now to not make much noises by moaning.

“Can I feel it down there, too, inside of me, Daddy?”

“Can’t you fuck me good already?”

They did not know anything such as the first encounter, they had met long before the night where they kissed, long before she was engaged with another man, and long before he married his wife. All they knew was how good their skin was to be pressed against each other or how their tongue danced around while they kissed. They did not know anything else but the intimacy that they shared to each other, especially the ones done through those sexual intercourse.

Chiara knew the taste of money long before she was able to utter a word. It was never a problem ever since she was a child. Thus, she could spend millions for a plane ticket and a hotel room, just for the sake of spending some time with him. He would have spent dollars and dollars for their countless dates or exchanged kisses, away from where they would never have that chance. The road trip through the Blue Ridge Parkway, bathing in nature at the Blue Lagoon, or even enjoying the sight of blooming seven millions tulips at the Keukenhof Gardens, they had it all like a beautiful newlywed couple enjoying their honeymoon.

“Desperate, I see,”

“You want this, Princess?”

He leaned closer as he pressed his rigid shaft against her folds ever so teasingly that she now became a moaning mess. He stared at both of her eyes as his free hand was wrapped around her nape, pulling it close yet rough enough to arouse her even more, as he thrusted his length inside of her.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy..”

“Yes, baby girl. Moan for me.”

Only if she can choose, she would have married him instead of anyone else, not even the man who was chosen by her father to marry her in a few months. Only if. He had her heart, but she could never tell if she had his. Deep down, somewhere inside her heart, there was one place where she would have collected all the harsh truth that she had to face. As much as she wanted it to be a lie, the fact that he was married to someone else couldn’t leave her mind. And that, too, she could never complain. She wanted to deny but reality was more than enough to slap her with some sense.

“God, baby,”

“You are so tight.”

Chiara threw her head to the back as her body was arching in pleasure. She moved her hips against his movement, taking his thick length in as much as she could, and he kissed her as they exchanged saliva, groaning every so occasionally. Their body was drenched in sweats, they were moaning in between those ragged panting as he was thrusting, fucking her senselessly.

“Ngh, please, please, Daddy.”

“Moan for me, little one.”

“Tell me how much you want me.”

Chiara did not know the other way to live her life. She knew men better than she knew herself. She knew what they liked or how to please them. She knew it all too well to the point where she thought that she was way too dirty to even know the term of love, let alone the meaning behind it. She did not bother thinking about how others might have seen her or treated her like an object, she shamed herself long before they did. The world was cruel, that one thing she was certain of. Perhaps it was the price that she had to pay, for all the pleasure and privilege in her life. No matter how warm his hands when they were wrapped around hers, how comforting it was to cry on his shoulder, or how good it was to have him inside of her, she knew his heart was never hers.

“I want to cum all over Daddy so bad... please—” Her voice was shaking as she muttered between her moans, and her hand that once lingered around his hair and wrist for playing with her sweet bud swiftly returned to grip onto the table as soon as she felt herself losing stability due to the intense pleasure he was making her feel.

“Shh, Daddy, I’m coming, I’m coming! I’m—” her peak was rushing over fast, however, washing over her to the point where her figure arche over shook visibly as soon as she reached her peak, not realizing that she had her own liquid all over her inner thighs and down along her legs. “Fuck—”

People seek pleasure most of the time. Some traveled far, some gave too much, some even sacrificed things for pleasure. Chiara did not know love as well as she knew pain and sorrow. But she did know about pleasure even better than those two. But we can never choose our family, nor the relating blood that rushed through our veins. As much as they wanted each other, even if he happened to have given his heart to her, the universe would never allow them to be together.

Because as soon as she walked out of the room, he would be nothing more than a brother of her own father.

Pleasure: End Part.

[desvuse]

The Longing

There was one poetry that she could never write.

As much as she wanted to, no matter how desperate she was, that one poetry stuck in the first sentence and she was never sure if it was already a sentence or it lacked a few more letters to complete.

I long for thee

Chiara Ziascha was never fond of this feeling. The feeling of raging emptiness, like there was a rift in her chest, a hole so big that she had no idea how to coat or cram it up. As if something was missing yet it would have been forever consigned to the grave along with her relentless wonder. And the void thrived bigger, bigger that it devoured her. She had been gawking at her slightly crumpled paper with nothing but her four words and some other scrapes. The one thing she knew for certain, something was not right.

Her slender, dainty fingers were fidgeting with the edge of the paper on her desk and her right foot was tapping against the ground, involuntarily so. She hurled her focus away from the paper as she was biting her lower lip, trying to find anything to occupy her headspace. Chiara heaved out a long, desperate sigh as she finally decided to stand up, propping up her right arm with the other one as her lips along with her canine and incisor teeth were busy biting the nails of her fingers. There was anxiety amassed at the trench of her stomach and she felt almost like throwing up.

She was sure enough that she wasn’t sick. No, physically not. Her body was completely healthy and well, she could bring it to run hundreds and hundreds meter away from where she was standing. And yet, her sense, her psyche was not so much. Twenty-four hours a day and Chiara hardly got adequate sleep, four and a half hours at most, sometimes three, sometimes two, sometimes five, divided into several parts a day, that also if she was lucky enough to obtain a halt from work.

It was almost twenty-three hours without sleep for Chiara and all she wanted to do was to write poetry, for she believed that it was the only way to heal her from whatever that was plaguing her for the past few months. There was no way for her to be able to phone anyone, especially when she was in such condition. Miserable, she’d say. Going to professional was the least druther that she’d choose, or else things must have ruined her career by now. Besides, if she were to seek some help or try to share what was happening, no one would have believed her. The timepieces were striking half-past two in the morning and Chiara was still there, roaming around her room, struggling to think of something other than sleep.

Her eyes caught the sight of her pillows, draped in a luxurious yet comfortable sheet with the blanket of matching tone. Twenty-three hours without sleep and her eyelids were so heavy, she could fall anytime now. Yet instead of allowing herself to touch the soft fabric of her bed, she stood there, in silence, intensely so, with a heavy breath that slowly turned into a ragged panting. Chiara, who was close to tears, gulped down as the slab of heartache was making her heart throb in discomfort. She wanted to sleep, she badly needed that, she nearly lost her mind. The void was getting even bigger the moment that accumulated tears at the edge of her eyes dropped down, through her cheek and went directly South, hitting the floor.

One shouldn’t have cried when they feel empty. One shouldn't have felt anything when they feel empty. But the emptiness that she felt was so much, so much more than just a vacant space inside her mind or her soul. The hole, the void that she felt, it was hurting like a needle that cut through the layers of skin countlessly rather than a wrecking ball that hit once, making a big hole in an instant. The uneasiness was rather overwhelming, too much, nearly unbearable. Chiara broke down crying. She cried a long cry, almost like she was crying for help. She cried and she cried until it was suffocating for her to utter a word, or even to breathe.

There was one poetry that she could never write.

I long for thee

Those four words echoed through the whole space of her head as she started to cry harder, even more painful to watch or to hear. It took only a dream that started around the end of January, a few months ago. A pitch-black scene that turned into snippets of events, foreign and almost unknown schemes of life. To whom those scenes of events belong to was out of her reach. She failed to recall because every time she woke up, all there was left to be remembered was nothing but blurry thoughts. Yet the feelings, the emotions lingered close. So close that it felt so real, burning, and alive.

At first, she thought that dream would have been just a dream. A mere, trivial dream that one would have dreamed about every now and then. At first, she was able to carry them from days to weeks. At first, everything was okay. But then those dreams came often, every single night, or even every single time she closed her eyes. Those dreams were intangible yet vivid enough for Chiara to wake up with tears and sweats running down her face. Those dreams were wounding her for the feeling of yearning, longing, for something unknown, something beyond her capability of thinking, something so foreign and so far, out of her reach.

They weren’t nightmares. No ghost or fear, no leaden past or trauma, no pain or sorrow. They were snippets, lovely schemes of two hands intertwined, a gleaming ray of mornings, and waves of laughter that emitted warmth. They were everything beautiful one could have ever dreamed of. But the aftermath was something else. To say that what she felt was a mere longing, it would be a simplification of everything that pervaded throughout her whole being. There was a lot more than one could say. The longing, the yearning, the desperation, the sadness, the anguish, the agony, everything was there.

That emptiness, that vacant space felt like it belonged to something. Perhaps a memory, a past, or even future, something Chiara had never touched before, something she had never laid her eyes on, or maybe, someone. Chiara could never tell. It wasn’t just a mere, frivolous sadness, or insignificant longing of something. It was an all-consuming, massive feeling of longing. That one, Chiara was sure of. Therefore, she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t afford to add up any more of that certain feeling that she wasn’t capable of describing. Every single night she went unconscious, slipping down into sleep, the only thing that she would feel when she woke up was no other than that one particular feeling. It grew, every single day, every hour, or even second, uncontrollably so.

Her head was too heavy for her to carry, henceforth, it slowly fell down to the floor, she surrendered. She was no longer able to take control of her body. The wind blew in such a delicate motion, moving those strands of her hair ever so smoothly. Chiara took one deep breath as she tried to make those tears stop from falling. Her body was trembling, shivering from the cold weather as her fingers, in jittery, rummaged through the broken white woven of her rug. She was trying to find something that could make her stay awake, no matter how weak it was, her muscles twitched as she moved her hand, reaching for anything that she could hold on to.

I long for thee

As much as she wanted to stay sane, a faint lullaby was heeded, constantly gaining an increase in volume, singing her to sleep. Twenty-four hours with no sleep as she had been avoiding it, preventing herself from getting another dream, and her body finally gave up. Her movement got even more jaded as it slowly stopped. Her sight was getting blurry as her eyelids closed, turning the view into an all black scene and eventually  into the deep slumber.

There was one poetry that she could never write.

i long for thee

albeit the time

albeit the space

albeit the flesh

albeit the bone

albeit the blood

i long for thee

of the voice

that i long to hear

of the words

that i long to speak

of the emotion

that i long to feel

i fetch all the

inkling thoughts

so long after

they are left

dead and

obsolete

shall the

verve be

revived

shall the

vast lauds

live again

through the

utterances of

tales, and

sheets of

records

i shall find thee

for i long

i long

for thee

The Longing: End Part.