My Unknowing Muse

by akused

Summary:

I wanted to practice writing sexual scenes without using explicit/blunt descriptions or language, so I wrote about Spy being a little freak.

I unapologetically hold myself in higher regards than my colleagues, the battlefield is full of children who think killing is a game rather than a work of art. Unnecessary violence has never been enticing to me, yet I find myself being unable to look away from that dancing flame, flickering across the battlefield surrounded by plumes of smoke. I've never seen someone who kills with the viciousness of a wild animal sinking their teeth into their writhing prey have such calculated precision. Everything they do, it's so coordinated, so concise.

 

God, they're beautiful.

 

If anyone here understands me, it's them.

 

When the war has finally died down for the night, I'm left alone in the comfortable confines of my quarters where I can finally express the affection I hold for my flame...

 

I sink into the silky sheets of my bed, a more than luxurious king sized, though I always sleep alone in it. The shame and humiliation I feel as I unravel, clinging to anything I can as I choke back noises of pleasure, stubbing out cigarettes on my collarbone and imagining it's their burning touch.. it only fuels my desire for them. I know it's wrong, but I can't help myself...

With a final sputtering thrust into the warmth of my fist — the warmth that I wish was the heat of that tantalizing flame, a strained gasp for mercy escapes my throat as I cover my hand and stomach in the physical proof of my want. I barely have the energy to clean myself off afterwards, left lying with the remnants of my shame still warm in my palm, trying to catch my breath and recollect myself.

Notes:

sorry this is so short, like i said this is a writing practice and i suck at writing in the first person, especially sexual/romantic scenes.. but yes eat up French Toast community.. i hope this is good (ᵕ—ᴗ—)