𝗢𝗹𝗱 𝗙𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀

Colours.

When life gives you lemons, you take it. That is to say, this chapter is M-Rated. Read at your own risks.

This is an AU one-shot, where humans don't have their original colours, i.e the natural skin tone that we possess; but they have a very singular, individual colour according to their personality and genetics. Only soulmates when they consummate do they exchange their colour and acquire a new colour after that intermingling. The colour exchange takes place on physical, emotional, and spiritual level.

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How divine, how powerful did I feel when he touched me; roaming every minute details, every nook and cranny of my body, with a ferocity of a sabertooth and a grace that would put Pygmalion's craftsmanship to shame.

He gestures me to lie back, putting me on the soft mattress like a light feather touching a hard surface; and burning my skin with the blazing trail of his soft finger pads. He moves my aquamarine hair back, taking access to the unexplored domain of sensitive flesh, grazing my junction with a soft nip while his hands move desperately on my buttons.

Discarding my apparels in an impressive disarray, he proceeded to kiss me fervently, continuing his spoor on my sternum, taking his slow time to work wonders, not only on my body but my soul as well.

At first, it was just me, in my blue brilliance, working to feel his naked red wilderness in all its naked glory, but then he thrusts inside of me unexpectedly, breaking the sacredness, the vow of chastity that I swore to my parents, to the Catholic nuns, and to my future husband, for whom I originally stashed my virginity; to the people who were brazenly obsessed with the idea of virginity.

My body shivers, and a gasp of discomfort escapes from my lips. He halts momentarily, and casts his shining dark brown eyes, now etched with concern and guilt, on me.

I open my eyes, and provide a soft smile up at him, staring at my brown reflection in his compact constellation, packed in two tiny orbs. I move my hands up on his cheek in a soothing caress, and he exhales audibly on my shoulder blade.

He moves cautiously, taking all the time in the world to mitigate my raw pain. I was enthralled with the building desire and the fleeting pain, but more with the idea of being a slattern, for the first time, with promiscuous imagination and wanton desires.

My eyes were swimming with emotions, while my hands reciprocated his every touch, moving aimlessly on his tight arms, hard muscles, and a rocking back; squeezing his every transparent desire to rub on my combustible skin.

His tongue pushed forcibly between my plump lips as I engulfed it in my warm cavern, battling his artistic moves with my unintelligible ones, much like the movements he chose to fill my yearnings with a dominant grace.

The movements of moving bodies became erratic; and the squelching sounds grew loud, erotic and raunchy, impressing on the neighbours the lewd activities of two animals in heat.

The desire started pooling as soon as my mind escalated into a trance. I was swirling in fascination for the man above me, straining his eagerness just to watch me wither under him with lust. My moans became salacious, and my heart felt the need to escape from its rib cage.

My mind was in an anaesthetic trance, as the throbbing in my pelvis intensified. His red skin glowed in my blue aura. I was overwhelmed, so I pulled him closer, trying to smother his sweet essence on mine; his perfume so narcotic that I felt the need to capture it in a glass vial.