(ONESHOT) Just a oneshot about love after death. Kinda creepy I guess, but not really :D
No death can tear us apart
Her hair was red, it still shone as bright as it did the day it got matted with dried blood. Her skin, colder than ever, her stiff limbs, her lips that he pried open, greeting her lifeless tongue with his own as he tasted the rotten flesh... Even death couldn’t tear them apart. Even beyond death, they were still together.
Her eyes may not look at him lovingly anymore, her fingers may not work through his hair, untangling the strands gently, but she remained beautiful. Her white dress was stained with mud and blood, torn in the back from when he lost his strenght and had to drag her body to exclusion and privacy. Her red hair, which had been worked on for hours that day, had gotten loose. Strands of it were hanging down her neck, and the small beads that had decorated her hair were now lost between the floorboards. The tiara remained on her head, though, because he knew what it had meant to her.
Her hair and skin didn’t wear the scent of her favorite perfume any longer, it had worn off weeks ago. But if he closed his eyes... He sighed contently when he wrapped his arms next to her on the bed where she had been laid down to rest, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. If he only closed his eyes, he could still imagine the sweet scent of roses.
He stroked her hair, apologized for coming home so late from work, and told her he hoped she’d like the late wedding present he bought her. With shaky fingers, he kissed her fragile skin right below the necklace of pearls. She loved the new string of pearls, and he ran his fingers across them. They decorated her neck beautifully.
He kissed her jaw, which he had had to twist and pry open so that her mouth was now constantly open, inviting him to the kiss of a bride. He could not resist the invitation. Though she could not answer to the movements of his tongue, he still enjoyed the feeling of her cold mouth as he explored the rotting flesh. He ran a hand on her open thighs, rolling up the full white silky fabric of the dress, so that it was balled up around her waist.
He moved his hips rhythmically, going slower than he’d like, as she had always preferred a slow, gentle touch. Even after death, she took pleasure in him touching her like this. He looked into her black eyes, searching for an answer, and saw a glint when the dim light hit them. This was her way of telling him yes.
But their moment was interrupted. Something hit the window, and it sounded like long claws scraping against the glass. No, he whispered. No. They would never get her. He climbed off of her, but remained at her side, his arms protectively around her, guarding her from the cloaked man lurking outside.
No one could take her away from him. He had closed the windows, boarded up the back entrance entirely, and barricaded the front door. No one but himself could leave and enter her final resting place. Even she could not leave. She didn’t want to. Her body and soul will forever remain here, and so will his. Even after her flesh is gone, even after her bones have turned to dust, she still won’t leave, because they loved each other. He stroked her cheek, kissing her forehead gently, promised her they will never take her away. No death could ever tear them apart.