Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ DANCE OF THE HOURS ❯ Dance of the Hours ( One-Shot )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Yoko_cw 
Sweat dripped down his body, making his pale skin glisten. The multi-colored lights flashed against him, changing his blood-red hair and skin from blue to red and green and back again. He was beautiful, and drop-dead sexy, wearing the black tank top with a fishnet long sleeved top over it. A smirk on his face, it did not reach his eyes.
He loved the clubs, the writhing, sweaty bodies hitting against his own, the music loud enough to make him go deaf. He was half-drunk by now, the techno beat pounding in his head and making his already slurred thoughts become a blur. He could see faces without names, blood, hear screams that were coming from inside of his mind. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. And he didn't care. Grabbing onto the sleek metal pole, he pulled his almost anorexic-thin body up and twisted, spinning over again and drawing whistles from the crowd. Eyes half-lidded, he moved his hips to the beat of the song.
He was no longer thinking about how his freinds screamed as he pulled their limbs away, how good their blood tasted against his tongue. All he was thinking about was the beat of the music, and the promiscuity that he had gained. He practically screamed 'FUCK ME BABY!' to all the half-drunk dancers in that club. He loved it.
He felt his shirt come undone, but he didn't care. He was half-naked, his chest pressed against the bare skin of a stranger. He wasn't thinking about the murder...
Only his job.
The dance of the hours.
Anime/Manga: Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 04.19.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 316 | Visits: 582 | Status: Completed
Sweat dripped down his body, making his pale skin glisten. The multi-colored lights flashed against him, changing his blood-red hair and skin from blue to red and green and back again. He was beautiful, and drop-dead sexy, wearing the black tank top with a fishnet long sleeved top over it. A smirk on his face, it did not reach his eyes.
He loved the clubs, the writhing, sweaty bodies hitting against his own, the music loud enough to make him go deaf. He was half-drunk by now, the techno beat pounding in his head and making his already slurred thoughts become a blur. He could see faces without names, blood, hear screams that were coming from inside of his mind. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. And he didn't care. Grabbing onto the sleek metal pole, he pulled his almost anorexic-thin body up and twisted, spinning over again and drawing whistles from the crowd. Eyes half-lidded, he moved his hips to the beat of the song.
He was no longer thinking about how his freinds screamed as he pulled their limbs away, how good their blood tasted against his tongue. All he was thinking about was the beat of the music, and the promiscuity that he had gained. He practically screamed 'FUCK ME BABY!' to all the half-drunk dancers in that club. He loved it.
He felt his shirt come undone, but he didn't care. He was half-naked, his chest pressed against the bare skin of a stranger. He wasn't thinking about the murder...
Only his job.
The dance of the hours.
Anime/Manga: Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 04.19.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 316 | Visits: 582 | Status: Completed
DANCE OF THE HOURS-SDA-Drabble
CHELSEA WELSH
Summary-He Danced For Men On That Stage Almost Every Night. It Made Him Feel Wanted...It Helped Him Forget That He Killed All His Freinds...
Sweat dripped down his body, making his pale skin glisten. The multi-colored lights flashed against him, changing his blood-red hair and skin from blue to red and green and back again. He was beautiful, and drop-dead sexy, wearing the black tank top with a fishnet long sleeved top over it. A smirk on his face, it did not reach his eyes.
He loved the clubs, the writhing, sweaty bodies hitting against his own, the music loud enough to make him go deaf. He was half-drunk by now, the techno beat pounding in his head and making his already slurred thoughts become a blur. He could see faces without names, blood, hear screams that were coming from inside of his mind. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. And he didn't care. Grabbing onto the sleek metal pole, he pulled his almost anorexic-thin body up and twisted, spinning over again and drawing whistles from the crowd. Eyes half-lidded, he moved his hips to the beat of the song.
He was no longer thinking about how his freinds screamed as he pulled their limbs away, how good their blood tasted against his tongue. All he was thinking about was the beat of the music, and the promiscuity that he had gained. He practically screamed 'FUCK ME BABY!' to all the half-drunk dancers in that club. He loved it.
He felt his shirt come undone, but he didn't care. He was half-naked, his chest pressed against the bare skin of a stranger. He wasn't thinking about the murder...
Only his job.
The dance of the hours.
END!
R.R?
CHELSEA WELSH
Summary-He Danced For Men On That Stage Almost Every Night. It Made Him Feel Wanted...It Helped Him Forget That He Killed All His Freinds...
Sweat dripped down his body, making his pale skin glisten. The multi-colored lights flashed against him, changing his blood-red hair and skin from blue to red and green and back again. He was beautiful, and drop-dead sexy, wearing the black tank top with a fishnet long sleeved top over it. A smirk on his face, it did not reach his eyes.
He loved the clubs, the writhing, sweaty bodies hitting against his own, the music loud enough to make him go deaf. He was half-drunk by now, the techno beat pounding in his head and making his already slurred thoughts become a blur. He could see faces without names, blood, hear screams that were coming from inside of his mind. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. And he didn't care. Grabbing onto the sleek metal pole, he pulled his almost anorexic-thin body up and twisted, spinning over again and drawing whistles from the crowd. Eyes half-lidded, he moved his hips to the beat of the song.
He was no longer thinking about how his freinds screamed as he pulled their limbs away, how good their blood tasted against his tongue. All he was thinking about was the beat of the music, and the promiscuity that he had gained. He practically screamed 'FUCK ME BABY!' to all the half-drunk dancers in that club. He loved it.
He felt his shirt come undone, but he didn't care. He was half-naked, his chest pressed against the bare skin of a stranger. He wasn't thinking about the murder...
Only his job.
The dance of the hours.
END!
R.R?