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This diary entry is written by Bootheghost. ( View all entries )
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The Space Between UsCategory: Drabble and Prose
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
06:22:55 PM (GMT)
Seeing as my general activeness on Kupika has dwindled as of late, I thought
I might as well spam the place with some writing a little to personal to put on my
blog/personal social network sites. I know not many people read my diaries anymore,
but there's always the hope that someone might stumble across my writing by accident
one day, and I might be able to change their opinion about something, or sew new
seeds of thought in their minds, or just open their eyes to the wider world around
us. It saddens me how narrow minded and shallow people of my generation truely are: I
wish people would not just learn things just for the sake of learning, to pass exams,
or get qualifications. I wish that people learned new things because they were
willing to know more about the world around them, and become better individuals.

Anyway, I should stop my rnamblings about our disintergrating society. Here's a
little something I wrote in mid-November last year, as a continuation from an earlier
piece, which you can find here as "The Space Between": The inclusion of the
collective "Us" in this second title has reason... but I don't feel the need to
express why. Hopefully you can figure that out.
It is a direct continuation, but I don't really feel that calling this part two, and
that part one, because I believe it can stand alone - my intentions are to convey a
very strong, pure emotion in what I'm about to post... what emotion that is, I leave
to you.



The Space Between Us

"You do me many favours," the young Lord Aoyama purred, his tongue carressing every
syllable that escaped his lips. As the dim, receeding candle-light danced whimsically
across the chiselled features of the woman who captured his desire so, he could not
place a moment in his lifetime more captivating, more moving to his core, than that
very one; he repeated her name effortlessly, letting the word taste like rich,
viscous honey in his mouth.


The corners of her alazarin-red lips twitched upwards, a delicate, feline smile
embracing her features- she edged just a few inches close, inclining her torso
towards the Lord - did she even realize that her body defied her?
No, that was not possible, the young Lord decided, generously inhaling the potent
aroma of her perfumes (both woodsmoke and plum) that not hungrily licked his nose and
throat, enibriating his senses erotically. She never moved unintentionally, she was
always a woman of calculated plan. She sought to tease him. Entice him. Didn't she?

"I believe you truly enjoy the sound of my name," she mused, her Southern-accented
voice lowered and husky: a most sensual tone that the young Lord could only liken to
the though of supple hands exploring tender flesh.
Oh, how he ached for her, this bird of paradise, this delicate peony amongst
the coarse strands of yellowing grass that could only pale in comparison to her. His
body begged to betray him, shouting, screaming, wanting her to offer him a
signal, to coax him forward and give her slender, rippling body unto him.

"... am I right, Taiko?"

It was like an explosion of fire, an inextinguishable pleasure, every time she spoke
his name, that shuddered down his arms, across his shoulders, up his spine. It was
like a shot of opium in his veins, heating his soul.

"I do enjoy it," he uttered, clinging to his composed countenance and good nature,
despite the overwhelming, lustful need to hold her and embrace her then and
there. To become hers, and only hers. "It has been, up until now, a foreign sound
upon your lips."

Her ebony eyelashes fluttered against her palid skin, creating spidery shadows across
her flawlessness; coyly, she chewed her lower lip, drawing the Lord's dark eyes
instantly there. Was she aware of the unwavering command she had over him, body and
She must have realized, how much he wanted that. Those swollen lips on his,
leaving the powdery residue of her makeup on his own skin. How could she not?
Do you want this? truly, that is what he wanted her to say, an idea or a hint
that she recognized the unquelled emotion bubbling ferociously within his chest, and
even that within his abdomen. It was a courtship that had lasted four years; four
years of an almost intolerable silence because she had barely expressed a desire to
him until that night. Almost intolerable, he stressed. Because it was her, he
could tolerate.
What was this fevrent gaze that she rested on his face? Again, he wished that she was
not so much a significantly better reader of people that him. Was there teasing in
those topaz pools of her eyes, daring him to make a move and test his intuition? Was
this a game to her, to see how far he could truly go for her? Or was there a warning,
urging him not to pressure the situation further, telling him that he was neither the
first nor last poor, unfortunate soul intoxicated by this mighty phoenix?
She had once told him that she was lonely; perhaps in not so many words, but the
implication had been there, that night on the balcony. Did she still suffer from that
depresing loneliness, waking, sometimes, in the dark of the night, shivering and
convulsing, with no body beside her amongst the sheets to warm her?

"You are in deep thought," Lady Grace observed candidly and curiously, her skeletal
fingers aimlessly drawing circles on the taupe decking. "Are you troubled?"

Lord Aoyama drew his legs up from out of the grass which was then beginning to
irritate his bare feet; he tucked his calves neatly beneath himself, straightening
his posture, and allowing himself the moment to edge his body just slightly closer to
the object of his adoration.

"I am thinking about you, my Lady - Grace," he replied, quickly correcting himself in
the use of her title. "Are you lonely?"

"Why do you ask?" Her response was immediate, but answering his question with another
question was merely a testiment to how defensive she could really be.
How could he even answer? He could not simply divulge these innermost desires to her,
for that would be improper. There were no words known to him that could aptly express
his feelings adequately enough anyway.

"My Lady," he murmured, with detectable exasperation; her shaped brows furrowed, her
claret lips falling slightly a part. Her gaze was intent on him, both cautious and
curious. Gingerly, the young Lord breeched the space between them, and gripped her
fidgetting hand in his muscular one. "You are avoiding the question."

There was no teasing implied in his words, merely intense sincerity as he watched her
reaction, his thick, glossy hair concealing his eyebrows as it fell over his face,
which was titled, as one might imagine a faithful dog to act.
Her hand was like he had always imagined - delicate and fragile, with bones
protruding from beneath the translucent flesh, calloused in some places, but
ultimately soothing on his anxiously beating heart.
She turned her head away from him, highlighting her graceful profile, illuminated by
the subtle, aureolin glow seeping from the lanterns behind her. Though her line of
vision had been altered, she did not withdraw her hand from the young Lord's, even
when he relaxed his grip so that her fingers were only resting in his open palm.

"You are an intuitive man," she whispered, hesitantly, "But I would imagine my words
to be lost when I am certain you have already devised an answer to your own

Truly, she was a woman of riddles, and certainly lived up to the rumours and stories
and folktales, that floated about the city, by not responding with simplicty. But he
had never expected it of her. He moved to speak, but she surprised him by continuing
her thoughts.

"... I do not feel lonely in this moment."

She glanced up, despite her face being titled away from his, and remet his gaze,
offering her guest an enthralling smirk, goading him on, though tinged with an
unfathomable bitterness. Evidently, she was amused by his sudden fluster and his
stumbling to extract the words he need:
"I... I am glad, My Lady."

"Grace," she corrected playfully, twisting her slender fingers around his wrist,
tugging gently on his arm as he inclined his head closer to hers, onyx eyes wide,
displaying innocence, inexperience, and a positively child-like quality.

"... yes, I am sorry, Grace," he mumbled, inwardly trying to claw back the
composition he had possessed moments before with blunt talons.

"I shall accept your apology," she purred, the sight of her tongue gliding over her
canines, provocatively, just glimpsable between her lips. She crawled up onto her
knees, her scrutiny of her being never receeding, and edged forward, so that the
sprawling cloths of their kimonos were intermixed. Elegantly, she swept her tressled
locks over one shoulder, leaving the smooth, white curve of her neck thoroughly
vulnerable to the desire in his eyes, and presed her hands into the niches of his
collar bone.
He tried to sit up, so that their faces might meet at the same level, but she kept
him pinned down, so that he could only gaze up at her sublime features.

"I believe that I am not the only lonely one, Taiko," she hummed, though with
solemnity. "And to think that you do not realize that I see those glances of yours,
feel the desire in every breath. Sometimes I cannot even bare to look at how, because
it smothers me. Because you hold me in such a regard that I could not possibly
compare to." She stroked the hair from out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ears as
she allowed her hands to trail his face and scultped cheekbones. "Why must it be like
this with us? Why must you do this?"

She phrased it as if it were something that pained her, but that she was unable to
avoid, something that she revelled in, despite the harm that it brought to her
already fatigued being.

"Gracem" he soothed, reaching up to curl his warm fingers around the nape of her
neck, meshing in the curtain of her tawny, tangled hair. "How could I possibly not?"

Where their knees now touched, she could feel the full intensity of the heat
radiating from his core, the sickly-sweet taste of lust in the air. His words grieved
her in a sense, for they were still pure, those of someone still clinging to their
last slither of childhood before adulthood whisked them away. Her mouth formed a
tender smile, tinged with a degree of sadness, as she shook her head.

"This obsession is bad for me, my Lord," she gushed, draping her silk-swamped arms
around his neck, pressing her red lips to the skin where his jaw and ear met, where
she knew he would be tender. Electricity flooded the yound Lord's system in an
instant and he trembled under her sensual touch, back arching, chest rising, a groan
of incomparable pleasure rising in his throat.

"Grace," he moaned, moving to press his fingertips against the small of her back,
drawing her fragile, lithe body into his heaving chest, encacipitated by the heavy
wafts of her perfume enveloping his senses. With her attention honed on his pulsating
jugular, she peeled his hands away from her back without returning to look upon his
flustered face, pinning his arms to his sides as she applied her menial weight onto

"You are eager," she breathed, sultry breaths tickling his ear and arousing his
senses. "And I thought you were more chaste than this."

How could he remain abstinant any longer, now that she draped herself so willingly
over his body, kissing him, touching him, enjoying him? He was, after all, a man, and
would react accordingly to the advances and affections of such an enigmatic and
enthralling woman.
He begged for her to kiss him, to consummate the affair they had both started out on,
the nights of fevorous desire lain in heated thoughts of one another. He wanted to
taste her, to bruise those pinkened lips and make her fruit swell with his passion.
He wanted her so much that he feared the ferocity of his needs might trample her.

"Please, kiss me," he urged coarsely, as she coerced him onto his back, running her
painting nails across his jaw, reddening the skin. The flickering light of the
lanterns had finally floundered, giving way to the dappled, lilac glow of the moon
through the bows of the weeping willows doubled over the pagoda's balconies.

"Patience is a virtue," she whispered in response, "Can the young Lord not control
himself for a few moments longer?"

She treated him as her domain, her possession to do what she would with, but Lord
Aoyama found himself beyond the realms of eloquent thought; if he could be her
treasure, if he could bring her pleasure, however fleeting, he would seize that
chance and throtle it with both hands.
Her hands dipped in and out of his extravagant, teal-blue robes, toying between the
exquisite silk and his muscular chest, enjoying particularly the curve of his breast
bone and the rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingers. Once or twice, her touch
strayed a little further than she had dared before, first carressing his heaving
ribs, tracing circles around his naval, and even gracing his eager hips - if only to
hurriedly return to his jaw and neck seconds later, teasing, perhaps even trying to
tempt him with her coy chastity.
A gravelly moan rumbled in his throat as her thumbs reached the coarser trail of hair
across his lower abdomen, a mix of ecstasy and impatience fueling his being as he
silently prayed for her not to halt in her advances every time.

"You body betrays you, Taiko," she mused, sliding her dainty hands from his chest, up
her own thights, and to her waist, where she began to work meticulously on untying
the harlequin-green obi belt that bound her robes. "Are these fantasies of yours that
I ought to indulge?"

There was no doubt in his mind that she was aware of his heated state of arousal, but
though she spoke words of seduction into his ear, he wondered if she realized there
was a far more basic urge beneath his lust for her. His upmost compassion, loyalty
and adoration was there for her, burning ever so brightly, and he just wanted her to
let him kiss her, in order to prove that devotion he could so willingly provide. He
sought tenderness.
The swamps of her kimonos fell from her shoulders as she shrugged, the moonlight
casting cresent shadows beneath her pert breasts and illuminating her protruding
ribcage; it surprised Lord Aoyama how a woman capable of the slaughter of hundreds
could appear so fragile and vulnerable unto him. For an instant, she appeared almost
sheepish, a bashfulness until then unseen, as she revealed her form to him. Could he
have been the first for her to act this way with?
She no longer bound his arms to his sides, so he captured the instant vigorously,
swopping an embracing arm around her back, drawing her naked body to his chest as he
caught her chin with two fingers.

"You don't have to be like this with me," he breathed, his lips just catching,
brushing hers as he spoke at such a proximity. His grip about her was unrelenting,
but she made not one move against him, willing to her capture and imprisonment in his
arms. "This is not the true Grace."
This isn't everything you are.
So quickly she changed from a prowling huntres to a timid creature clinging to him in
the dark, breathing deeply in the silence, making no sudden moves.

"You are an interesting young man." Her voice had become less commanding, but not yet
quite as timid as she appeared, for it still contained that sultry purr which he
favoured so much. "I only wish you might have a wiser taste of women in the
future..." She trailed off, but the lack of words thereafter spoke for itself: a
bitter, pitiful warning. You are becomming involved with the wrong sort of
people, it said.
It pained the Lord to be treated like a child who could not make decisions for
himself; his heart was set on what he wanted, and where she had lost count of the
passing years, he had clung dearly to every passing day, for it was one day more he
might be able to spend in the presence of this noble woman.

"There will be no need for a wise taste, My Lady," he stressed, "Can you not believe
that I have made a decision? A decision that has brought me here tonight... am I
misguided to think that there is some bond between us? From the very moment that we
She hushed him with her fingers over his lips, a painful blockade between their

"Reasons are always simple... so please don't explain yourself. I understand."

It was apparent that her understanding was not merely what she made it out to be;
Lord Aoyama could read it clearly in her eyes, that unwavering, golden stare that
bored into his soul, understanding everything.
Tentatively, she kissed him, not urged by his prompts or his begging, but for her own
overwhelming desire for someone to complete the part of her that she was missing, the
gaping hole where she desperately needed comfort. Compassion. Selfless kindness.
Everything that the fibres of his being were constructed from.
This man was offering himself to her, mind, body, soul, all of his being. He wanted
her to use him, just so she wouldn't have to writhe in the agony of a
comapnionshipless existance any longer. Was this what was referred to as love?

Her lips were tender, moist and clammy with the artificial layer of cosmetics, tinged
with the taste of sharp rice wine - was this the first kiss that he had imagined
between them? He could not recall. It did not matter.

He moved with her, breathing with her, tugging at her lower lip, inhaling her cent
saturated with wanton love as if for the very first time; their noses pressed
together, her ebony eyelashes fluttered against his flushed cheeks, two pairs of
hands grasping, clutching at metaphysical desire and raw skin.

"I fear that I have done you wrong, Taiko," she murmured breathlessly, insinuating
the idea that some sort of innocence had been lost. Perhaps it was true, the young
Lord decided, or could it be considered that instead of him losing some purity, she
had gained some? 

No, purity was the wrong word for it; she was a being of purity already.



If you've read some of my other work before, you will be familiar with Taiko and
Grace, two of my reocurring characters... their relationship is very complex and
multi-levelled, so I adore to write about it in varying scenarios. This particular
one is not the original, but it was of the purist forms of their relationship that I
like to study - the Grace in this version is very raw and pure, with a rather dark
past, which makes the angsty romance all the better!!

Uhm, yes. Thanks for reading, if you did! I would appreciate comments, reviews,
criticques or just a simple "hello!"

NB: Whilst writing, I was listening to: Snow Patrol This Isn't Everything You
Are, Gorillaz Feel Good Inc., Simon and Garfunkel Bright Eyes,
Annie Lennox Into The West and Woodkid Iron.

‹lottecookies› says:   20 January 2012   885176  
do my english a-level for me?
Bootheghost says:   20 January 2012   225345  
Xima writes:   23 January 2012   298256  
Marvelous, I'm looking forward to reading more literature from you! Out of curiosity, what is(are) your favorite book(s)?
Bootheghost says:   24 January 2012   443999  
Thanks for the feedback! 
And a few of the books I've enjoyed recently are: The Handmaid's Tale
(Margaret Atwood), After Dark (Haruki Markami), We (Yevgeny Zamyatin)
and The Reluctant Fundamentalist (Mohsin Hamid)... basically, I'm
totally into world literature right now!
But of all time... it's either gotta be the Ootori Trilogy by Lian
Hearn (actually five books...) and The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien!
Bootheghost says:   24 January 2012   829629  
*Haruki Murakami. Gosh, I need to learn to spell. 
Xima writes:   27 January 2012   671938  
Ah, I'll try reading these books sometime! By the way, how did you expand your horizons in writing? Sorry for taking so long to reply back! ._.
Bootheghost says :   27 January 2012   405254  
Read a lot of different styles, a lot of world literature. I have a
strong interest in culture and history anyway, so doing the research
to flesh out my stories isn't as much of a chore as it could be.
Also, studying a lot of languages helped a lot - it gave a good grasp
on basic linguistics, and how language is constructed... it helps in
figuring out effective sentence structures and dynamics...

Or, alternatively, I just write when inspiration hits. All that
mumble-jumble might sound fancy, but writing really just reflects
emotion, and the deeper that emotion, the better the outcome?

Cheesy nonsense is cheesy. 

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