Snippet #1380050

located in Invisible Angel Institute, a part of A Sad Day for Happiness, one of the many universes on RPG.

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It was almost like magic; what Silus' voice would do to every single part of my body. I know that the others may not notice it and I can think that Silus doesn't even know it but there is something in his voice. Something that just oozes.... Oozes sex and ecstasy out past his lips and into the ears of people waiting to receive it. I craved it because it made my knees weak and made my blood run deliciously cold and made my nerves tingle and my skin flush. For that voice I would do anything - be anything - just to hear it again. Not that it was only Silus' voice that I liked because I like a whole lot about him. Problems or not. But his voice; that was the one thing about him that I absolutely love. I could melt into a small little puddle at his feet if he just asked. I would willingly do anything if he just implored the idea of it happening.

'Will you?'

Fuck yes.

I would do because the voice he would use for a statement like that would be enough to blank my mind and have me wrapped in chains willing to do anything. I'd be his fucking slave if he asked me too as long as it would be to me that he whispered things to. I can't even fathom how far he could push me with his words because even his goddamn 'Good Mornings' made me want to tell him that he could do anything he wanted. It was a dangerous situation and one I wasn't willing to admit to anyone because I was innocent little Karina with the tragic past. I was not the boy who instantly got horny every time I so much as heard Silus breathe. NOT! I could prove that to other people but I couldn't prove it to myself.

And by damnit when his arms wrapped around my body and shared the warmth that only he could possibly ever have I swear I lost every conscious thought that dared to be present in my mind.


Did he have to speak? I wish I could say something back but the only things that would probably tumble through my lips would be words that would set the world on fire and make porn stars look like hard core Christians. But I forced myself to concentrate on the mere feeling of having someone hug me because physical contact meant that I was cared about; maybe. I knew hugs definitely were a sign that I was indeed liked but I knew it would never be anything more than a hug. When my feet touched down again I knew it was ending and my heart nearly dropped down into my feet because being alone and not being hugged meant being alone. Fucking alone. It didn't though because delicious words that tasted like the best candy in the world swam into my brain and warm breath trickled along my ear and I wanted to cling to Silus because if he could make my spine feel like it was fire I wanted to know what else he could do. But we were in rehab and he was dealing with Satyriasis and I couldn't very well fling my very willing self at him like some float sent out to a drowning person.

Sadly my thoughts were interrupted by someone grabbing hold of my free hand – and squeezing really hard. Not that the pain even bothered me much because I’d been through worse and unless he was driving a knife through it; I’d probably forget his hand was even there. Well; the pain of his hand being there. The warmth and the slightly damp feeling of his skin on mine would always be nagging at me as long as it was there. Contact was probably the best thing for me because I had to know people were there and just seeing them wasn’t enough because I could very well end up going insane. I had to be able to touch them and know they were tangible and solid – psh – to know that they truly were there. I’m a sad excuse for a human being.
Pitiful and weak unless someone else is there.

Suddenly it was gone and I turned in time to see Savannah turn and run as if trying to get away from something horrible. I didn’t know what had caused it; it wasn’t like he had anything to be ashamed of. Hell – if he was in Hollywood people would be begging at his feet for him to tell them what his secret was. Shit. Maybe that was it though. I felt really horrible suddenly and did the only thing I knew how to do and that was cling onto the closet person. Silus. Small, thin and scarred arms wrapping around his warm waist. One hand holding onto means of communication and the other grasping onto a belt loop in his jeans.

My eyes – which Sabrina had called the colour of molten gold and I called amber – looked up at Navaeh with a question. I hoped he would get it. Music wasn’t something Savannah enjoyed too much; the sound of his singing made me sure it was true. A broken bird.