#m: zephyr maddon

[cherricdwines]

closed starter ;

@cvnin-e / zephyr & acre

         ━━━━        A CATHEDRAL OF SHADOWS. the nightclub was a cathedral of shadows where flickering neon lights pulsed like a heartbeat, their glow mingling with the smoke curling in languid tendrils above the crowd. the air buzzed with electric tension, music throbbing through the walls and mimicking the steady rhythm of an unseen predator. bodies swayed together in a ritualistic dance. the whole place felt like a sanctuary of the damned, its occupants slick with sweat and its floors sticky with unknown substances. a place where only those willing to lose themselves — or who had already done so — truly belonged.

zephyr maddon leaned against the back wall, half-hidden in the dim light, her gaze drifting over the sea of strangers and searching for the one face that BURNED like an ember in her thoughts. letting out a slow breath, she felt the weight of the night settle over her like a shroud. the girl couldn’t help but wonder how she ended up in a place like this, where the line between sacred and profane blurred, where secrets buried themselves in the bassline. tugging at the edges of her black dress, fingers brushed the silver cross hanging around her neck. it felt like a mockery, really, this fragile image of purity resting against her skin. skin that still carried the remnants of an illicit encounter. her thoughts slipped into that familiar spiral: the way he had looked at her with something twisted that mirrored her own desires.

they came tonight as something she dared not put a name to and there was a sort of wicked satisfaction that came with being surrounded by people who had not a clue of what festered beneath their facades. a part of zephyr found it poetic — two souls damning themselves under the watchful eye of a world too blind to see.

her eyes caught a glimpse of crimson light flashing across the far wall, a shade that bled like a warning. she felt the pounding bass in her chest, each beat a reminder of the dangerous game they were playing. disappear and forget. at least, that’s what he had told her moments before they walked through the front doors. disappear and forget. but the night had a way of twisting intentions, turning the simplest of actions into something laced with consequences.

somewhere out there, he was moving through the throng, closing the distance between them. her fingers tightened around the cross, its edges biting into her skin and for a moment, she wondered if she was praying or merely holding onto the last thread of her conscience. when she finally saw him emerging from the crowd, her pulse quickened — the pull between them undeniable and relentless. refusing to move from her spot in the corner, she waits for his arrival. he seemed to move fluidly, deliberately, as if the chaos of bodies parting for him was just an afterthought. the crowd blurred, colors and lights smearing together. it all became background noise. the drinks, dancing, fleeting touches. the stolen glances and brushes of skin disguised as accidents. it all became peripheral.

she caught the faint scent of smoke and leather as he drew closer — cinnamon and amber trailing close behind. the music throbbed low and heavy, mocking the beating of her heart. nerves spark under her skin as he closes the distance, stopping just shy of touching her. close enough for warmth to BLEED between them. close enough for his presence to overwhelm the air she breathed.

it was maddening. this dance they played always teetering on the edge of disaster. when her eyes flick up to meet his, she doesn’t flinch. no, the corners of her lips curve into a smile. the temptation to reach out, to erase the gap between them gnawed at her. they were surrounded by people, a writhing mass of oblivious strangers lost in their own pursuits. yet here they stood. playing with a fire that was already burning too hot.

acre maddon was magnetic, pulling her closer without him needing to move. tension hung thick in the air, thick enough to taste.

hazel eyes flicker over his face, searching for a crack. for a sign that this — that they brought him a similar feeling of guilt. she found none. just the same hunger reflected back at her. zephyr straightens, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “i thought we were forgetting, disappearing.” her words slip between them like silk.

their connection was like a blade held to their throats, dangerous and thrilling. it was impossible to pull away without leaving scars. perhaps that was the point. they were already tangled in something complicated and the deeper they went, the harder it became to see a way out.

how long could they play this game?

[cvnin-e]

AM I ENOUGH? MY FLESH AND BLOOD;

she's red. her nails, her lips, the soft inside of her mouth, the claw marks on her outer thighs where he grasped her, possessive—possessed. if the place they remained was hallowed ground for shadows, a holy place for the foul and decrepit, then this was the only home acre maddon knew. a boy of horror, of oil-slick dreams, of silver glitter and cigarette ash.

he knew he was tainted, he knew it from the moment he was conscious enough to form thoughts of his own. a product for failure, for lust, for desires not of his own creation. he allowed this truth to shield him, to blanket him when he made the same mistakes again and again. acre maddon was hardly a man at all. he could not be a thing of light, so he would have to drag the light down to him; to swallow, to condemn.

zephyr maddon was across the room from him, watching the crowd as lights bled over the mass of people dancing; a sea of limbs and sweat. she searched and searched, white and red lights throwing her in and out of shadow, like a trick of the light; a mirage. there were moments when the light would encase her in white, incandescent in a house of shadows. disappear and forget. those were the last words he spoke to her before slamming the car door behind him. a crack of lightning, violent against what he could not claim. a horror, a failure, a spoiled fruit of a man. he was nothing more than blackened mold, a rot so profuse no amount of fire could burn out.

so why could he not avoid her? why not save her the grief of his damnation? why harbor such affection, such burning starvation? why could he not leave her behind? the consequence of his love would burn a hole through the center of her and he knew it but he went to her anyway.

music pulsed from the heel of his feet to the heart in his chest, a droning roar that silenced with each step he took towards her. the world tunneled, darkened, a cone of streetlight dimming to a singular halo of golden light above her. he stops just in front of her, watches her as she watches him, searching, searching. it could not be enough, he thought, this could not be enough to sustain them for a lifetime. it was not enough to just want it, was it?

i thought we were forgetting, disappearing.

it was enough, acre thought, to want it. his hand is in her hair, curled like a claw as he tugs her head back in one sharp move, her mouth parted—gaping like a fish out of water. crimson. her mouth was red, wet, swollen from their stolen kisses in the car. "we are," he hovers over her, his nose brushing against hers in an uncharacteristic act of tenderness. "this is me, forgetting." his mouth, sharp like the tip of a blade, curls into a smile, harsh lines. he crushes his mouth against hers, a flash of white, of red, a blackened sky above and around them. this kiss wasn't stolen between whispers and stage lights, it wasn't taken by force in between car pools and hallways. it was a knife in the stomach. a punch to the jaw. a bite to the shoulder just before you cum. it was a sin coated in sweat and familiar dna. and it was finally, finally something he could give that was something of his own.

he holds onto the back of her head, letting the rush of her cherry lip gloss coat his mouth, to let it infect his bloodstream with all her sugar. a free hand finds the hem of her dress, silk black fabric that easily gives to his wandering fingers. he presses his head to hers, lips wet, reddened stained by her make-up, and he smiles, smiles as he toys with the lace bow on the front of her panties. he watches her now, eyes dilated as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric of her thong, lower, lower, lower until he can push his middle and forefinger inside her.

she moans, a rush of air, broken, cracked, a choked up sound as his mouth hovers nearby as if to catch it between his lips. acre sinks his fingers in deeper—wetter, "and this is me, disappearing." he bites down on her chin, tasting the salt of her sweat as he thrusts his hand out, back in, again—again.

DOES IT SATISFY YOUR L U S T?

closed starter ;

@cvnin-e / zephyr & acre

         ━━━━        A CATHEDRAL OF SHADOWS. the nightclub was a cathedral of shadows where flickering neon lights pulsed like a heartbeat, their glow mingling with the smoke curling in languid tendrils above the crowd. the air buzzed with electric tension, music throbbing through the walls and mimicking the steady rhythm of an unseen predator. bodies swayed together in a ritualistic dance. the whole place felt like a sanctuary of the damned, its occupants slick with sweat and its floors sticky with unknown substances. a place where only those willing to lose themselves — or who had already done so — truly belonged.

zephyr maddon leaned against the back wall, half-hidden in the dim light, her gaze drifting over the sea of strangers and searching for the one face that BURNED like an ember in her thoughts. letting out a slow breath, she felt the weight of the night settle over her like a shroud. the girl couldn’t help but wonder how she ended up in a place like this, where the line between sacred and profane blurred, where secrets buried themselves in the bassline. tugging at the edges of her black dress, fingers brushed the silver cross hanging around her neck. it felt like a mockery, really, this fragile image of purity resting against her skin. skin that still carried the remnants of an illicit encounter. her thoughts slipped into that familiar spiral: the way he had looked at her with something twisted that mirrored her own desires.

they came tonight as something she dared not put a name to and there was a sort of wicked satisfaction that came with being surrounded by people who had not a clue of what festered beneath their facades. a part of zephyr found it poetic — two souls damning themselves under the watchful eye of a world too blind to see.

her eyes caught a glimpse of crimson light flashing across the far wall, a shade that bled like a warning. she felt the pounding bass in her chest, each beat a reminder of the dangerous game they were playing. disappear and forget. at least, that’s what he had told her moments before they walked through the front doors. disappear and forget. but the night had a way of twisting intentions, turning the simplest of actions into something laced with consequences.

somewhere out there, he was moving through the throng, closing the distance between them. her fingers tightened around the cross, its edges biting into her skin and for a moment, she wondered if she was praying or merely holding onto the last thread of her conscience. when she finally saw him emerging from the crowd, her pulse quickened — the pull between them undeniable and relentless. refusing to move from her spot in the corner, she waits for his arrival. he seemed to move fluidly, deliberately, as if the chaos of bodies parting for him was just an afterthought. the crowd blurred, colors and lights smearing together. it all became background noise. the drinks, dancing, fleeting touches. the stolen glances and brushes of skin disguised as accidents. it all became peripheral.

she caught the faint scent of smoke and leather as he drew closer — cinnamon and amber trailing close behind. the music throbbed low and heavy, mocking the beating of her heart. nerves spark under her skin as he closes the distance, stopping just shy of touching her. close enough for warmth to BLEED between them. close enough for his presence to overwhelm the air she breathed.

it was maddening. this dance they played always teetering on the edge of disaster. when her eyes flick up to meet his, she doesn’t flinch. no, the corners of her lips curve into a smile. the temptation to reach out, to erase the gap between them gnawed at her. they were surrounded by people, a writhing mass of oblivious strangers lost in their own pursuits. yet here they stood. playing with a fire that was already burning too hot.

acre maddon was magnetic, pulling her closer without him needing to move. tension hung thick in the air, thick enough to taste.

hazel eyes flicker over his face, searching for a crack. for a sign that this — that they brought him a similar feeling of guilt. she found none. just the same hunger reflected back at her. zephyr straightens, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “i thought we were forgetting, disappearing.” her words slip between them like silk.

their connection was like a blade held to their throats, dangerous and thrilling. it was impossible to pull away without leaving scars. perhaps that was the point. they were already tangled in something complicated and the deeper they went, the harder it became to see a way out.

how long could they play this game?