The thing is, the final bell rang like a sigh of relief that nobody believed that could come back home without any issue for what happened during the class. To their awe, they still thought that they would be given extra work the way no one can break. That is to say that university Z emptied fast that no one can really dreams of despite us having the ability to experience reality through imagination. That is to say that students spilling out gates like blood from a fresh wound that no one ca take care of, laughter sharp and fleeting under the late-afternoon sun that we barely see in the pain of what it means to be alive.
Basil walked slower. The more he would think about it, the more he would torture himself. In that way, he pushed through it. Let the crowd part around him like water avoiding a blade. Petals still fell from the cherry trees pink confetti for a funeral nobody announced that no one can touch, but hellish love incarnate.
He didn't go to the old building that no one can shake in the terms of what it means live because of us being ignorant and shaking what it means to love. What is more, he felt the heaviness of life on his chest. The thing is, idn't linger for Rias's expectant gaze or Akeno's teasing electricity or Gabriel's too-gentle light that other could get to recognize in the same of love and fear for him. He walked past the gates as a real imperator.
Past the streets that still smelled faintly of rain and diesel that could intoxicate a marvellous titan in extreme heat for lust. Past the torii gate that appeared without warning that I can get everytime when someone does not want to greet me red lacquer chipped, moss thick, fox statues watching with stone eyes that followed in the most wonderful way. In this way, he got something precious: peace.
The steps climbed themselves the way a man grows up, trying to reach the top. In this way, he didn't count them for what you may dreams. The shrine waited at the top like a lover who'd spent the day aching for what could be done in the name of the Logos
Yasaka stood on the porch in the most beautiful posture, showing her perfect curves along with her bombastic breasts.
No coat this time. No teaching time. No fake time. Just the red dress silk thin enough to show the shadow of her body underneath that could entice the most powerful battalion of love and need, clinging where sweat and anticipation had already dampened it in order to show how much of a lover she can be for him. Really, she was looking at him with utter passion. Hair loose the way a flower blooms with grace, bourbon waves catching the dying sun like liquid fire that burns reality in 8K that we cannot forget. Nine tails fanned behind her slow, restless curls, russet fur rippling like they'd missed him all day to initiate a new golden era or perhaps as I would rather say: no one saw it coming. The thing is, golden skin flushed at throat and cheeks. What is more, nipples tight against fabric in which we cannot dream. Thighs pressed together just enough to betray the restless heat between them that could entice a real man to show him the love he needs.
She did NOT speak at first. She did not NEED anything. She had Just watched him climb the last steps. Amber eyes slit narrow that could touch the soul, pupils blown wide with something feral and female in her between love and evil.
Yasaka: You came back as a king who does not beg for affection. That is to say that I felt you the moment you left the school gates. Your scent changed where an archangel light clinging to you like cheap perfume over cedar. They touched you. Talked to you. Wanted you. And still…you walked here. To me. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. Yeah, that love should be with you for the end of my life that I cannot doubt.
Basil stopped one step below her before touching her cheeks. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off her body that would desire him to death with certain passionate affection. Close enough to smell her along with all the colors of life cedar incense, rain-soaked fur, and the thick, unmistakable musk of arousal that had been building since morning that I could smell from a whole mountain in the Kilimanyaro.
Basil: That is to say that they tried to work with me, but they actually offered me something in exchange that I did not like. Gabriel wanted to heal the wound that no one could ever see in my heart or perhaps as I would rather say: this love cannot become finite. Azrael wanted to weigh it. Metatron wanted to rewrite it. I let them talk as if they were wise mean…. But they were taking me for a fool. Let them touch just enough to feel how deep the sorrow runs in the best way we can shake the connection of the soul with reality. o predict the behavior of ordinary people in advance, you only have to assume that they will always try to escape a disagreeable situation with the smallest possible expenditure of intelligence.
Then I left. Because none of them smell like you the way I can have you and make you, touching the depths of your soul. None of them drip like you do when you're waiting when being true to yourself. None of them have tails that beg to wrap around me while I fuck the day's bullshit right out of my chest to tell the truth
He stepped up the way a lover would catch a break for me to show compassion and needs. Now eye-level that can shake a real man. Her breath hitched, soft, involuntary, unnecessary, and unreal. One tail slipped forward that we cannot dream of in which we can actually see because of the velvet tip brushing his thigh, then curling around his waist like it was claiming territory. The thing is, the diary of love is not done.
Yasaka: Bold words for a boy who spent the day surrounded by devils and angels in the very hell of the main reality. I mean, you told me about this. My mother is from there. Maybe, you will never know her. That is to say that I spent the hours pacing this shrine, tails twitching every time I caught your scent on the windmixed with their light, their judgment, their wanting. No God can destroy it, only the search for truth and the experience of truth not a belief – is capable of healing all your wounds, of making you a whole being. And the whole person is the holy person to me. It made me wet and steamy as a volcan that want to devour the whole world. Angry. Hungry. I almost went to that school myself. Almost tore the gates down to drag you back here where you belong.
Her hand rose that we cannot shape in order to take care of everyone seriously. Fingers trailed his jawnails sharp enough to draw blood if she wanted that we cannot see because of the need to be dead. Maybe, they were closer than they imagined at first. She didn't. Not yet. Just traced the line where sorrow had carved itself permanent.
Yasaka: Tell me. Did Gabriel's light make you hard? Did Azrael's grave-stare make you ache? Or did you spend the whole day thinking about how my cunt felt clenching around you last night how my tails milked every drop while you pounded sorrow into pleasure? I should be making these questions because I am honestly interested in that need for appreciation. Was man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent, yet so vicious and base that you could actually overcome it in the most outrageous way?
Basil's hand moved as a force of logos this time. Omega fast. Tangled in her hair at the nape of love pulled her head back just enough to expose golden throat that no one could. He leaned in. Lips brushing pulse point once, twicethen teeth grazed. Not biting. Promising. To be honest, that bitch was just jealous.
Basil: They made me think that for naught. That is to say that their light burned cold the way a mother would chase illusions with their children about their goals. Their words cut shallow. Their aspirations are vain But you… you burn hot. You break everything. You churn in lava. You cut deep. He who hasn't tasted bitter things hasn't earned sweet thing. That is to say that I walked through their lessons with your taste still on my tongue and your scent soaked into my skin. Every equation I solved was just another way to calculate how many times I'd make you scream tonight. To think what is true, to sense what is beautiful and to want what is good, hereby the spirit finds purpose of a life in reason. Every poem I read was just foreplay for the way I'm going to fuck you until the mirror cracks wider and every secret in this shrine begs for mercy. I mean, I would make out of you a real woman.
He released her hair. Hand slid down over shoulder, over breast cupped the heavy swell through silk. Thumb circled nipple once slow, deliberate. She gasped. Tails spasmed two more wrapping his legs, pulling him flush against her to make her his until the last drop of love could be fulfilled in the most insane way.
Yasaka: Then stop talking. That is to say that the shrine has waited all day. The foxfire is starving. My body is starving. Take me inside. Strip me. Mark me. In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfoldIs given in outline and no more. Fill me until the sorrow in your chest has nowhere left to hide except between my thighs. Make me yours again. Harder this time. Deeper. Until even heaven's scribes have to rewrite what they think they know about endings. That is to say that I want you to stay with me till the end of times. In this way, we cannot make it necessary for what comes through the love and the grace of life.
Basil's other hand gripped her hip fingers digging into soft flesh to display his need for affection in an infinite wat. Pulled her tighter. Hard length pressed against her belly through trousers throbbing, insistent to shake her to her core savagely.
Basil: Hahaha… then lead the way, fox-queen. There is nothing in the understanding which has not come from the senses, except the understanding itself, or the one who understands that I can continue without ending up going insane. Maybe, you can teach me one or two things to tell that I am still there. I should make you mine wholly and truly. That is to say that the day tried to contain me the way a father watches over his children. It failed. Now the night gets its turn. And I'm bringing every ounce of infinity I folded away today to m
She turned. Tails guiding him curling around wrists, waist, thighslike living chains of fur and fire to make love that night.
They stepped through the cracked mirror together.
The cavern waited silk cushions, foxfire pulsing faster now, air thick with cedar and need.
The door slid shut.
The world outside forgot them.
O my sorrow so big it finally found nine tails to strangle it quiet.
The shrine moaned low.
And the real lessons the ones that mattered began again.
Yeah, really. It is going to make have nightmares.