A look into Lorac's mind.
Jul. 25th, 2004 11:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kippurbirdI was tooling around and found this little drabble I wrote about Lorac. It's from Lorac's point of view on Alec.
Alexander, my love. Those were my three favorite words. I would speak them often softly, loudly during the day, at night. Any time as long as my Alexander was there to hear them. And Alexander was there. Always. We were rarely out of each others reach. Practically attached at the hip. But I asn't completely happy.
Alexander, my beautiful wonderful Alexander. Gentle and frightened, unsure most of the time with what he was doing in this relationship. He was in love, that much I'm sure of. With me. I can tell in the way he looks at me. Adoringly. The way he touched me, hesitantly, curiously, exploring. HOw he would lean against me to read over my shoulder. How he would curl against me at night in bed after we made love, needing my touch to sleep at night. Or the nightmares would claim him. I don't know plagues him in those dreams, he won't tell me. I do know that I'm the only thing that can drive them away. So I hold him, stroking his drake hair, whispering that it'll be all right.
But why am I unhappy then? Not because he's so attached to me, But because he never says the three words I want him to say, "Lorac, my love."
He says many things to me. About his day. His life, what he saw, what he did. He talks about my hair and how soft it is. My skin. But I'm not his love. Lover but not love. That belongs to someone else. I can see it in his eyes sometimes. When he's staring out a window and I touch him, he'll turn and there'll be such a light in his eyes, that vanishes when he sees me. He though I was someone else. And that breaks my heart. I don't know who this other person is. I wish I did. TO know what sort of person has stolen his heart.
I think, however, that I am slowly weaning him away from this other person. He doesn't loose that light in his eyes as often as he did when he sees me. And then he whispers to me in passsion how he loves, needs me. Perhaps one day, soon, he'll be all mine.
I can wait. I have time.
Alexander, my love. Those were my three favorite words. I would speak them often softly, loudly during the day, at night. Any time as long as my Alexander was there to hear them. And Alexander was there. Always. We were rarely out of each others reach. Practically attached at the hip. But I asn't completely happy.
Alexander, my beautiful wonderful Alexander. Gentle and frightened, unsure most of the time with what he was doing in this relationship. He was in love, that much I'm sure of. With me. I can tell in the way he looks at me. Adoringly. The way he touched me, hesitantly, curiously, exploring. HOw he would lean against me to read over my shoulder. How he would curl against me at night in bed after we made love, needing my touch to sleep at night. Or the nightmares would claim him. I don't know plagues him in those dreams, he won't tell me. I do know that I'm the only thing that can drive them away. So I hold him, stroking his drake hair, whispering that it'll be all right.
But why am I unhappy then? Not because he's so attached to me, But because he never says the three words I want him to say, "Lorac, my love."
He says many things to me. About his day. His life, what he saw, what he did. He talks about my hair and how soft it is. My skin. But I'm not his love. Lover but not love. That belongs to someone else. I can see it in his eyes sometimes. When he's staring out a window and I touch him, he'll turn and there'll be such a light in his eyes, that vanishes when he sees me. He though I was someone else. And that breaks my heart. I don't know who this other person is. I wish I did. TO know what sort of person has stolen his heart.
I think, however, that I am slowly weaning him away from this other person. He doesn't loose that light in his eyes as often as he did when he sees me. And then he whispers to me in passsion how he loves, needs me. Perhaps one day, soon, he'll be all mine.
I can wait. I have time.
