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Wills that are fortified by ancestral lines fuel the laziness of his spirit, a heart that is cemented by the weight of expectations beating to the beat of the stillness before the storm — as a kind of bad omen. It was similar to the waves before the impact of a tsunami, or the silence that inhabits the forest of his domain under vague attempts at meditation and retribution. The only witnesses are the moon, the stars, and the executioner who seals the final verdict.

Yet, even so, his sin is only sin if it is exposed. As long as it is buried in the earth that rests on the soles of his sandals and suffocated to never to come up again, he can go on pretending that there are no putrid musings infecting the recesses of his head. He can go on dedicating smiles laden with softness and tenderness towards his best friend, sliding his hand down his back, feigning principled affability. He can maintain his morality in the presence of a storm — elude the call that seduces him to the depths of the ocean. Drown out the sound of a voice that does not belong to him. Kill with his own hands a warmth that should not be answered, but eradicated.

Tomo did not expect such obstruction. It did not fall within his established parameters, and it was outside the limitations of his actions. It was as unreachable (almost, almost -- though he can touch it) as the Musou no Hitotachi of the Raiden Shogun. Such celestial elements, beyond the reach of mortals, were not to be touched. Divinity cannot be consumed by greed; sin cannot taint what has been purified.

Though, just as the Musou no Hitotachi may be held by those who dare to defy the glow of lightning, so may your small figure find its way into his greedy hands.

He did not believe, under unforeseen determinations and sideways glances, that such a thing would borderline that breach. You were Kazuha's girlfriend, naturally his companion on his travels in unknown lands, but an absolute line that was not to be crossed. It was necessary for the most important people in his life to get along, of course, such a thing was undeniable — but in an instant, unnoticed, friendly nudges turned into prolonged grazes. The stars in his eyes twinkled in contemplation of your laughter. His heart began to dance to the sound of your hips. His hands wanted more. His ribs wanted more. His lips wanted more.

Feelings germinated in unbreakable facades, wills so volatile that they are broken by the desire for what cannot be possessed. Questions in the middle of the night are born in recondite spaces, agitated sighs with guttural moans intoning Zai-ra, Zai-ra, Zai-ra, Zai-ra repeating like a mantra, a scarred and veined hand breaking the wooden headboard by the sheer force exerted. Imbalances are born; restless, involuntary, unnamable desires.

If you were mine...

They are unacceptable, heresy that deserves hanging; a body that must be subjected to infernal flames, to unreachable temples, to writhing beasts —

If you were mine, if you were mine, if you were mine, if you were mine...

Envy is a cruel emotion that devours from the inside out, like a parasite that spreads its venom through the veins, turning them into a viscous crimson that burns under the touch of phalanges. Such a hellish texture; a texture that tastes bitter, causing bile to clog Adam's apple and his intestines to intertwine with each other, rotting his vitality. It poisons the strength of his rough dreams, soft to the touch, but prickly if inspected too closely. It makes him what he faces and fights in his day to day life, putting his beliefs at stake.

But would it be him if he did not stay to look into the eyes of the one responsible for his sentence?

On this particular night there was nothing out of the ordinary, the stem of the small green flower between his teeth, his head back as a smile rested on his lips. His legs were spread, hugging his robe, the front sliding down the sides of his ribcage to reveal a bit of his chest that is only lightly covered by the scarf. The beer mugs are empty in front of his body and his stamina is exceptional, unlike an albino, who was staggering against the small table.

“Kazuha, you drank too much.” A small smack on his head, tilting his face a portion, preserving that amused tinge in his orbs. “You plan to leave all the work to Mimi and me to carry you? You're particularly convinced that it will turn out the way you expect one more time.”

“More, a little more —” A voice slightly wizened by alcohol consumption, complexion sliding across the counter, cheek collapsing against a jar. “Please, more…”

“... You always had zero resistance to alcohol, after all.”

Hands on his knees, standing tall, his height gaining several heads to his friend. His build was bulkier than what was apparent a few years ago, and he accentuated every part of his attributes well with the yukata. A myriad of constellations decorated his torso, a hardened chest with calloused palms from sheathing swords. Maturity had blessed his physiognomy, and were it not for the scar on his nose or those residing at every point of his anatomy, he would say he was unholy with imperfections. His hair was only disheveled by a bunch of locks by the end of the evening, which was worth noting.

He was about to help him regain his composure when he saw your silhouette cross the threshold, stopping his movements unexpectedly, smiling at you. His face lowered a fraction to admire your body in greater detail, taking in every appreciation and engraving it in the chinks of his mind — a fantasy he nurtures after closing the door, broken backrests and shattered glass bearing witness to the magnitude to which such desire reaches. On occasion, if he feels adventurous, he fucks his pillow and imagines it's your small pussy hugging his cock so nicely. If he puts his mind to it, he swears he can almost hear your voice, murmuring softly: To-mo, To-mo, To-mo, To-mo, without a Kazuha to burst in.

(Is it cruel just how fascinating he finds the idea?)

“Zaira.” A soft gasp, almost like a prayer. “He's drunk again. I think a stranger dressed in flamboyant green clothes offered him too much to drink when my back was turned.” He crosses gaps with you, his complexion towering over yours, forcing you to ascend your sight in order to get in touch with his sense of vision. He tilts his face slightly, and leans in, bringing a gloved hand to your chin, examining you — a vague excuse for your smooth dermis to dissolve in his fingers. “Stay sober, will you? I don't need to drag two drunkards on my back tonight.” A motion was employed, thumb exerting pressure, his face slightly close to yours. “Be a good girl for me. Behave nicely.”

The double entendre of the sentence is a double-edged sword, with opportunities to be pursued should the chance present itself. If only you gave him the instance—his friendship with Kazuha be damned—he wouldn't hesitate to lock himself in one of the bathrooms with you, close the door, pull down your underwear, and foce his cock down your soft cunt, gagging you against the wall, fucking you; etching himself inside you so as not to be forgotten, burying so deep under the prison of his own longings.

“I could go drop him off at his room and you and I have a drink. Your resistance is better than his, at least.”

It is the shadow of evil, expanding until it covers everything. It tingles in his fierceness; in how he devours you as if you are already his, and he only has to claim you.

"Unless you don't want to keep me company tonight? Which would be fine, of course. But, still. It would be... nice.” A hand against your forehead, pressing his own, the lock of his light brown hair covering slightly dilated pupils. “I think I can be a decent object of entertainment. I also know the art of swords. I could provide you with a dance.” He wouldn't specify which, ruffling your hair, taking a disproportionate distance. Necessary — a necessary one. Otherwise, you don't know how long it would take him to slam you against the bar, and fuck you right there next to Kazuha to prove a point. “Your answer?”

A man possesses infinite loyalty, and more so if his principles align.

But if it's a woman he covets (and loves), desire is crafty; it dominates until consummation.

And he wants to consummate everything with you.

Tomo.

The warm surrounding breeze caressed every inch of her body that was exposed to the environment. Calm footsteps flooding the streets of the city of freedom along with the chitter chatter of the locals, there is a heavy sigh after a deep breath, smelling the familiar scent that took her years to leave behind along with every little memory and experience flooded in her hometown.

Curious and nostalgic eyes wander around every corner with attention and a smile plastered on her lips, there are those she recognizes and others she does not, but one thing is certain. Nothing has changed at all.

Her complexion shortens its distance with the large door of the tavern that many times she had frequented when she still lived in the place, as usual there were people drinking as if the next war between Archons was approaching, some were already on the floor blabbing nonsense, some were just in their first drinks and others were struggling to stand. Eyes catching familiar faces, Knights of Favonius tasting the delicious dandelion wine, a fiery red hair at the bar handling alcohol bottles to those who wanted to frown frustrations, until her eyes fell on your large figure just a few steps away and she felt her heart suddenly race.

At this point it was undeniable.

Guilty feelings wanting to be fought with tooth and claw but sadly they were much stronger, slipping through her fingers like fine sand as she watched herself fall harder and harder. A ticking time bomb of emotions that at any moment would explode and there are moments when she regrets every decision made before.

She still remembers the moment she met you together with Kazuha, dark times in the city of Inaazuma when they were persecuted by the Decree of Capturing Visions, she had barely arrived to the city she longed to know, finding herself escaping from a situation she never thought she could find herself in, seeking shelter in supportive souls who extended a hand and a place to stay until the worst was over. In her mind etched the sweet way in which your lips formed a smile, that warm tone with which you addressed her making her heart flutter and the blush running fast to her cheeks when a connection was formed between her brown eyes and the violet ones of yours, simply beautiful. Until many feelings were involved, finding herself falling for Kazuha but being unable to erase you from her memory, being the owner of stolen sighs on the nights she was without company, soft pleas of your name rolling from her lips to deaf hears when her hands roamed her quivering body, imagining they were yours instead. Picturing herself kissing your lips, and hearing the way your voice calls for her name, only desiring with such a force she would be yours and you would be hers

Such a desire that would only remain buried deep in the recesses of her mind with only her conscience knowing her darkest secrets.

"Tomo.", fixing the skirt of her attire a little she looks at you, a smile on her face until she hears your words and turns to the albino. Stranger dressed in a flamboyant green, huh? "Stupid, tone deaf bard.", she whispers as her fingers gently remove a lock of her boyfriend's hair, giving her a chance to visualize the small red tint on his cheeks due to the alcohol. "I hope he didn't drink too much, unless he will have a terrible headache the moment he wakes up tomorrow.", nails caressing the sleepy man's smooth skin as he mumbles unintelligible phrases. "Oh! And the place is already booked. A kitchen, a bathroom and two rooms, one king size bed each and they're big enough so I don't think there would be a problem as for the space."

She lets out a little chuckle, before turning to you and your proximity sets her nerves on edge. Feeling your breath crash against her face as she listens to your words intently and the sting of your touch against her skin, begging and yearning for more, but letting out a little sob when your fingers stop touching her, swallowing hard when you say the last thing, hearing your voice sound an octave lower than normal. "I will, don't worry about it, the thing is... Will you be the one behaving? I was born and raised here. I can take it, but as for you? I'm not quite sure actually."

A teasing grin without showing her teeth is plastered over her glossy lips, breath hitching and eyes closing when she feels you so close your lips almost touch and your breaths mingle into one, one wrong step and you end up kissing, your mouth looks pretty appetizing after all. Having to control herself in the face of such temptation and such a sin makes her blood boil just by thinking about it. "Of course I want, you know I love spending my time with you."

She says this last almost in a whisper, afraid that if she says it louder, her feelings will surge out of control like a tsunami sweeping against a city without being able to be stopped.

"I think you can provide me with any dance of your liking, and this is the perfect opportunity for me to let you taste our delicious dandelion wine.", a tone reflecting certain excitement.

"Go drop him off his room while I get the drinks, okay? I'll be waiting for you on the second floor, usually no one goes over there so it will be easier for us to talk."

Her pulse becomes erratic at the thought that you can finally be alone without interruptions, a perfect drunk Kazuha who won't open his eyes until tomorrow and a warm summer night where absolutely anything can happen, even the unimaginable.

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#tomo.txt