Bruises

Velarius

Pale skin, that almost looks white, with a greyish-blue tone.

His hair is messy and light as well, in a slightly peachy colour.

His eyes are blue, icy blue and his lips are in a pale pink, sometimes even white or violet as if freezing.

He's skinny. Bones showing.

And he's cold, rarely warm.

On snowy days, you want to watch out, afraid to loose him in the white beauty.

In the dark you want to say that it's like he's glowing, but sometimes you're going to loose him.

His eyes look sad. And he looks indifferent. Sometimes I wonder if he gets enough sleep, but no dark circles are showing under his eyes. It's like his skin is shimmering, like he hides endless freshness beneath it.

I wonder, the contrast of his blood on his skin, of the fresh pink flesh when you cut him. It surely looks delicious. So artful. So beautiful. Or a bruise. Let's bruise him.

I want his body covered in pink flesh wounds and a bloody red and in the blue and violet of bruises and that all in contrast to his wonderful pale skin with that cool greyish-blue tone. I want to abuse him. I want to hurt him. I want him to beg. I want him to look like a mess. My mess. My beauty. I want him to look at me, with tearful eyes, pleading so hard. Fear in his eyes.

That fearful thing, curled up on my sheets, crying. So cold. So lonely. So very beautiful.

I wanna touch the bones, sticking out from beneath his skin. Touching them with my own cold fingers, as I wonder how it might feel for him. How the cold feels for him. How warmth feels for him. I want to hurt him, to abuse him. It's like a need.

(This and the next chapter are only character descriptions.)