I'm not sure about this, I think it's the tone that's off. Hmmmmm... As always if you want to, feedback appreciated.
The Seven Dwarves
She props herself against the bed, midnight hair falling over her right eye, but she can still watch him pluck away at the keyboard from where she sits. The sheets lay at her feet and she reaches over the edge of the bed to find his shirt, the light from the moon cuts the room with a slit like the side of her skirt now resting on the back of his chair. She smiles. He sits at the computer angrily punching each key as he typed into a sexual fervor, the cigarette hanging from his lip. It ashes, he doesn't notice it burning his bare thigh. She marvels at how he fades from the world and into his own as he writes oblivious. She pulls the razor out of the nightstand next to her side of the bed. It's not her side of the bed in terms of them being a couple, but the side she claims when she spends the night in his room. He looks up from his seat for a second catching her eyes as she drags the steel along the top of her thigh. Without hesitating, he stands up and crawls to the bed. She smiles and pushes her hand between her thighs, rubbing just below the tip of her tattoo, a gun so she can hold a gun to the head of anyone licking her clit. He kisses the blood pressing its way to the top of her skin and she drags the blade across his shoulder, sucking at it. He moves towards the gun and lets her push it against his temple. He murmurs her name as she kisses his nape.
Snow.
Nothing powerful, but mesmerizing all the same. He takes the blade out of her hand and pushes her down into the mattress. Placing one hand around her neck, she wraps her hands around his wrist and pulls him into her, he cuts away the shirt, exposing her breast. Skin pale against the darkness, he cuts around the nipple, dropping to suck the blood. Her body shivers as his tongue flicks the wound and her nipple, her hand rubbing her clit with fervor, a couple fingers slipping deeper occassionally. A moan creases her lips. She arcs her hips up into her hand, her breast into his mouth, gasping for air. She wraps her finger in his hair, tying a knot with the two, and jerks his head back away from her bleeding nipple, not letting him suckle anymore. She thrusts him into the headboard and it cracks. His brow spews blood as he sits up, putting a finger to it and staring at the blood leaking out. Her hands grab his face at the temples and pull his brow into her lips. The blood rises in his skin and he can see stars, faint pretty stars with the names of actresses he dreams of sleeping with flashing before his eyes until he lands on the last one; Snow.
Butterflies start to fly around in the air around her head and she pulled off his body and has mounted him, impaling herself on his prick. He no longer sees her riding up and down, but only the violent flashes of a dying fetus or a mutilating of a man's eye as he climaxes. The butterflies flap around her as she falls onto his chest. Their golden wings disintegrate with each flap, leaving a dust residue in the air for him to inhale. He waits till he can feel her breath beating on his chest like a butterfly wing's flutter before he goes back to the computer to type. He has to write this. It's about the words. A love of the words. A poison that keeps him alive.
Sleep tight, Snow White.
The Seven Dwarves
She props herself against the bed, midnight hair falling over her right eye, but she can still watch him pluck away at the keyboard from where she sits. The sheets lay at her feet and she reaches over the edge of the bed to find his shirt, the light from the moon cuts the room with a slit like the side of her skirt now resting on the back of his chair. She smiles. He sits at the computer angrily punching each key as he typed into a sexual fervor, the cigarette hanging from his lip. It ashes, he doesn't notice it burning his bare thigh. She marvels at how he fades from the world and into his own as he writes oblivious. She pulls the razor out of the nightstand next to her side of the bed. It's not her side of the bed in terms of them being a couple, but the side she claims when she spends the night in his room. He looks up from his seat for a second catching her eyes as she drags the steel along the top of her thigh. Without hesitating, he stands up and crawls to the bed. She smiles and pushes her hand between her thighs, rubbing just below the tip of her tattoo, a gun so she can hold a gun to the head of anyone licking her clit. He kisses the blood pressing its way to the top of her skin and she drags the blade across his shoulder, sucking at it. He moves towards the gun and lets her push it against his temple. He murmurs her name as she kisses his nape.
Snow.
Nothing powerful, but mesmerizing all the same. He takes the blade out of her hand and pushes her down into the mattress. Placing one hand around her neck, she wraps her hands around his wrist and pulls him into her, he cuts away the shirt, exposing her breast. Skin pale against the darkness, he cuts around the nipple, dropping to suck the blood. Her body shivers as his tongue flicks the wound and her nipple, her hand rubbing her clit with fervor, a couple fingers slipping deeper occassionally. A moan creases her lips. She arcs her hips up into her hand, her breast into his mouth, gasping for air. She wraps her finger in his hair, tying a knot with the two, and jerks his head back away from her bleeding nipple, not letting him suckle anymore. She thrusts him into the headboard and it cracks. His brow spews blood as he sits up, putting a finger to it and staring at the blood leaking out. Her hands grab his face at the temples and pull his brow into her lips. The blood rises in his skin and he can see stars, faint pretty stars with the names of actresses he dreams of sleeping with flashing before his eyes until he lands on the last one; Snow.
Butterflies start to fly around in the air around her head and she pulled off his body and has mounted him, impaling herself on his prick. He no longer sees her riding up and down, but only the violent flashes of a dying fetus or a mutilating of a man's eye as he climaxes. The butterflies flap around her as she falls onto his chest. Their golden wings disintegrate with each flap, leaving a dust residue in the air for him to inhale. He waits till he can feel her breath beating on his chest like a butterfly wing's flutter before he goes back to the computer to type. He has to write this. It's about the words. A love of the words. A poison that keeps him alive.
Sleep tight, Snow White.
aurora:
Honest, hard, loud, rock n roll music with punk rock roots; AC/DC meets Bad Religion. MONEYSHOT aspires to return to an era of rock music that actually rocks. Brutally catchy melodies, screamin in your face guitars, and a rock solid rhythm section combine to kick your ass, then beat you while youre down.
aurora:
there are mp3's on the site.. go take a listen