snivilis (snivilis) wrote in _ephemeron,

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Ok. I've wanted to write, or read, a fic like this for a while and I have finally written it, since I can not find one.

Pen Name: snivilis
Name of Fic: A Natural Understanding
Summary: This is a D/S fic without is in a way an explanation of a D/S relationship
Rating(s): PG - for D/S
Genre: N/A
Warnings: This is a D/S...Domination/Submission...if you do not want to read it, do not click on the link, btw, there is no sex
Pairing: Secret...figure it out!!!...if u can't, ask me

He doesn't remember how they had made it a routine. They are older now, each with their own separate lives and yet they are part of those lives in a way that no other could be. Both of them are married. Both have families of their own. Both need each other more than anyone could imagine. It isn't sex that they want. They have their wives for that. They want something that the women in their lives could not understand or give them.

Tan hands slide through blond locks. A head rests against a relaxed leg. It is a routine that they could not give up or escape. There isn't an attraction but care between them. It is a knowledge that they would not give up if they could. Their wives are used to it; they have tried to learn but this is not a knowledge one learns, it is in their nature. It is about power. Having power and giving up power is what they want most. It wasn't always like this. They hated each other many years ago or did, until fate had decided to intervene.

Nails dig into the scalp under his hands and a sigh escapes the owner's lips. Nails slide over the neck's skin. There will be marks later and they would both cherish them. The memories of how it had started always come and always make him smile and thank fate wordlessly. He remembers the desire he had felt that day, the frustration. He remembers trying to persuade his girlfriend to try submitting, even once. She had agreed and when he ordered her on her knees she had refused and ran away. His nails bite into the back's skin and he drags them up to the neck and scalp. The body at his feet arching to meet the pain and wordlessly asking for more.

The memories do not cease. He can still see the astonishment on his rival's face when he had turned around. He can still feel the surprise take over him when the lean blond figure had fallen on his knees, bowled his head and begged for dominance. He had ran away from the thing he had most wanted. He had ran and avoided his nature for a long time, years really. It had been after they had graduated and the war was over when he had surrendered and had gone in search of the one thing he could not receive at home. The one person he aways saw, when he closed his eyes, kneeling at his feet. Not asking questions but doing as he was ordered. Trusting him with everything he had.

He was rejected when he had first found him. It hadn't taken long to persuade him. It was that day, years ago, that had started a relationship that neither can give up. They care for each other dearly. The first time had been overwhelming and the power had him addicted. After that, he felt possessing; he wanted more, he wanted him to be his, to own him. His wife is jealous, thinking he loves another man, but it is submission he craves. The controlling power that fills his veins and releases something inside him that tightens every time when he was is here, like this.

Another sigh and he knows the one at his feet is asleep. A glance at the clock tells him that it is time to end it, just like every week. A pull of long strands of hair and a sob of pain, the head bending backwards and sleepy,gray, eyes staring into his. He doesn't have to say anything. The figure stands up gracefully, his hair sliding through the tan hands. A shadow of disappointment crosses his face.

The lean figure stops by the door for a moment and then continues on its path, leaving behind all that he wants, all that is offered to him by the wrong person. By the one that is not his wife, the one he loves, but by someone he cares for and understands but hates, all the same, for that same understanding.

It will be the same next week. A figure coming in and submitting in anyway possible without breaching the limits each has wordlessly set up. A warm body at his feet, while he finishes the day's work. An obsession that he can not ignore. A power that leaves him breathless and satisfied.

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