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generated number - 1O. f r e n c h_k i s s
He found himself at Artimys’ flat. A unit of the designed with the latest trends in minimalism in mind, situated at the very top of a glass and concrete tower. Yuta was taken a back that the woman had recognized him given his sudden growth as he was hardly the boy that she once knew. Without so much as a moment of hesitation, Artimys had directed the Rakshasa into what she called her “car” and drove her to this place. Something about how she did not want him running about the middle of the city in the rain without a shirt she said. He would be hard pressed to recall much of what lead to his coming here, everything was a haze.
'I want to forget'
The rain drummed against the floor to ceiling windows, the rain drops running down the glassy surface in numerous rivulets and casting distorted snake like shadows on the walls inside. The boy could not help but sigh. His hair lay limp and damp and a towel was draped loosely over his slumped shoulders. Even the feeling of one of Artimys’ over-sized silk night shirts against his skin barely caused him discomfort. His mind was trapped elsewhere.
'I'm sorry Leez…'
With a heavy hand, Yuta pulled the towel just enough to let it slip down from his shoulder and land in a heap on his lap. A buzzing droned on and on in his head, accompanied by an unpleasant pressure. Was he losing it? Soft foot steps approached from the connecting corridor and Yuta cocked his head in the direction of the sound. “How are you holding up kiddo?” Artimys called out, her arms laden with a giant, fluffy pillow and a plush looking blanket.
The boy only stared listlessly as the woman made her approach, her svelte figure seemingly gliding across the floor with her panther like stride. Yuta thought it best to not inform the woman that he was in fact several centuries older and not a “kid” by human standards at least, but Artimys’ motherly nature pulled hard at his heat strings. “I guess that you weren’t feeling up to tea huh?” she noted, thrusting her chin in the direction of the mug - whose contents had long gone cold - lying on the coffee table.
"Well," she laying her fluffy bundle down on the leather sectional upon which Yuta sat, "maybe a good rest will be enough."
The sura just stared, blank faced. He wished so intently that he never left Chaos’ borders and stayed in his puppet mother’s realm - it was where he belonged. So long as others stayed far, far, away they would be fine. ‘Just mother and me…’
But he did he ever have a real mother?
Artimys, seemingly noticing Yuta’s melancholy air bent down slightly, looking upon his face with a warm smile, “Hey, it’s going to be okay kid,” she assured and finally reached out to tussle his hair.
He felt his eyes begin to water and pulled the woman down into a tight hug. He was so alone in all of this. He felt as though his mind was blanketed in a heavy fog and his body was moving in free fall. Pressing one hand against the small of Artimys’s back and using the other to cup her face he rose into a kiss. Awkward and maladroit Yuta rose from the couch and ran his hand along her jawline until resting at the nape of her neck. The boy daringly pulled the women in deeper and slipped his tongue in between Artimys’ slightly parted lips. He didn’t want to be alone.
'I wanted it to be like this' Yuta echoed mournfully.
He slid his tongue against the woman’s and pressed it against her palette, moving slowly, and mapping out the inside of her mouth.
'I was supposed to be like this!'
He could not keep himself from crying, the guilt swelled up in his chest and made it difficult to breathe. What was he doing?