blown ink

waving

                                     Ooh baby, I’m a 1000 miles away
                                     And I just don’t know what to say
                                     Cause Jesus only loves a man who bruises
                                     But darling, we can clearly see
                                     It’s all life and fire and lunacy
                                     And excuses and excuses and excuses

You were the first
to blow my mind,
a state
not to be mistaken
by the
sheer awe I feel
when I discover the
unknown facts of life.
  
It wasn’t a matter
of wonder or curiosity,
but a sheer explosion
of synaptic energy;
losing consciousness
almost entirely,
overwhelmed
by the sheer electricity
caused by a passion
strong enough to
overrule every thought
that has ever been able
to cross my mind.
  
Those fast, repetitive
kisses,
almost left me catatonic;
sweet surrender,
my entire existence
overthrown.
There’s no other way
to say it:
  
Mind blown.
—  A touch of lips; a burning soul, by M.A. Tempels © 2015
Fic: The stain on your lips (matches the colour of mine) (The Vampire Diaries; Stefan/Caroline)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Caroline Forbes/Stefan Salvatore

Summary: “Then, what do you feel guilty about?” He looks at her then, turns to meet her wide eyes, and he can see it there on her face. She knows. She always did.

Author’s note: So I got a prompt from the very awesome and talented knives-and-lint and I don’t usually do prompts but I really liked it, so I gave it a go. Original prompt is at the end.

 

 

—–

 

I.

 

He doesn’t hear the shatter of the crystal as it falls to the ground. He only sees the wine spill out from broken glass, soaking into the rug, spreading in every direction like ink being blown on paper through a straw.

It’s a bright, sparkling red in this lighting. He thinks of fresh blood gliding down skin, seeping into the collars of shirts and the front of blouses, bright red darkening as it seeps through every woven thread.

The whiter the blouse, the better the contrast.

It’s art.

Has his pulse racing, gums itching and veins yearning and he loves every minute of it.

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