Pirates
folder
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,445
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,445
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Pirates
Pirates. By Trin (Thru the looking glass)
They were orphans. Just orphans. Just the rhetorical residual self images that reminded the agents that some keys were failing in their eschatological system.
They were orphans, all alone, trying to hold on to each other not to get lost in the profane green code so secretly encysted in the very meanings of their lives.
They were orphans, all alone, and the only thing they had to hold on to was nothing more and nothing less than their own bodies. And they loved it. “Hold on to me” were the unspoken words that always pushed their bodies close.
They were orphans. And orphans have especial needs.
Sexual symbiosis. The strongest connection ever. They were orphans, already grown up orphans that could easily tell the strict differences between fucking and making love. And making love was definitely for the lovely couple, for the two soldiers tired of the eternal fight. And Zion was perfect. And the ship was getting closer to perfection too.
But fucking was absolutely different.
Their favorite physical activity also meant a risk, a chance to laugh out loud in front of the formal dresses. The most exciting way to unload reloading. And the matrix was the right place for a good fuck. And they were orphans. Fucking orphans trying to forget that they had been living a lie. Their lives: shadows and pains. The uncomfortable feeling of not belonging, totally justified now. Fucked up. Fucked up and fucking hard in that fucking dreamworld.
And he’s used to it.
And he knows that there’s no created leather to stop his hands from sneaking off her tight clothing, running through her skin. Her skin... that silver skin oh so carefully learned by heart by him.
And she’s used to it.
And she knows that nothing compares to the high sensations he makes her feel. Goddamed you, Trinity, she always reproached to herself. Nothing is real in this fantasy but you cannot stop believing that the insistent presence between your trembling legs is, actually, the real thing.
And so they go; on and on forever, waiting for a miracle to stop them, even knowing that once the ritual’s started it’s almost irreligious to try to stop it.
And he leads the intrusion, searching. Always searching. Always walking before running, never looking back, never yielding. Never giving her time to breathe. Surely knowing that he’s an orphan fulfilling his especial needs.
And so she welcomes the celestial intruder, guiding him, taking his hands to search for his pulse to transmit him that the Holy Communion they are living is nothing but r Blo Bloodcurdlingly real. And suddenly the recluses are nowhere to be seen. As always, fuck fast and leave the matrix unless you want to get caught in the air, as they both outrageously try to recall between moans.
They were orphans, and they are still orphans.
And there are still some especial needs.
And the chain is eruditely learned now: the erotic, then the erosion; and then the getaway, eveen wen walking is almost impossible. But it doesn’t matter: he can fly. And then heroism kisses intimacy and it’s all in the past.
And really, actually, they don’t give a shit about that. Because they are orphans, but while fucking, they are pirates.
Debate? Archives? The Looking Glass. www.freewebs.com/tlg303
They were orphans. Just orphans. Just the rhetorical residual self images that reminded the agents that some keys were failing in their eschatological system.
They were orphans, all alone, trying to hold on to each other not to get lost in the profane green code so secretly encysted in the very meanings of their lives.
They were orphans, all alone, and the only thing they had to hold on to was nothing more and nothing less than their own bodies. And they loved it. “Hold on to me” were the unspoken words that always pushed their bodies close.
They were orphans. And orphans have especial needs.
Sexual symbiosis. The strongest connection ever. They were orphans, already grown up orphans that could easily tell the strict differences between fucking and making love. And making love was definitely for the lovely couple, for the two soldiers tired of the eternal fight. And Zion was perfect. And the ship was getting closer to perfection too.
But fucking was absolutely different.
Their favorite physical activity also meant a risk, a chance to laugh out loud in front of the formal dresses. The most exciting way to unload reloading. And the matrix was the right place for a good fuck. And they were orphans. Fucking orphans trying to forget that they had been living a lie. Their lives: shadows and pains. The uncomfortable feeling of not belonging, totally justified now. Fucked up. Fucked up and fucking hard in that fucking dreamworld.
And he’s used to it.
And he knows that there’s no created leather to stop his hands from sneaking off her tight clothing, running through her skin. Her skin... that silver skin oh so carefully learned by heart by him.
And she’s used to it.
And she knows that nothing compares to the high sensations he makes her feel. Goddamed you, Trinity, she always reproached to herself. Nothing is real in this fantasy but you cannot stop believing that the insistent presence between your trembling legs is, actually, the real thing.
And so they go; on and on forever, waiting for a miracle to stop them, even knowing that once the ritual’s started it’s almost irreligious to try to stop it.
And he leads the intrusion, searching. Always searching. Always walking before running, never looking back, never yielding. Never giving her time to breathe. Surely knowing that he’s an orphan fulfilling his especial needs.
And so she welcomes the celestial intruder, guiding him, taking his hands to search for his pulse to transmit him that the Holy Communion they are living is nothing but r Blo Bloodcurdlingly real. And suddenly the recluses are nowhere to be seen. As always, fuck fast and leave the matrix unless you want to get caught in the air, as they both outrageously try to recall between moans.
They were orphans, and they are still orphans.
And there are still some especial needs.
And the chain is eruditely learned now: the erotic, then the erosion; and then the getaway, eveen wen walking is almost impossible. But it doesn’t matter: he can fly. And then heroism kisses intimacy and it’s all in the past.
And really, actually, they don’t give a shit about that. Because they are orphans, but while fucking, they are pirates.
Debate? Archives? The Looking Glass. www.freewebs.com/tlg303