TITLE: Beautiful - inside out
AUTHOR: Ophelia
EMAIL: ophelia_rd@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: Joss, not I.
DISTRIBUTION: Let me know where it's going
CATEGORY: W(m)
RATING: ?
SERIES: Enemy Within
PART: 2/?
FEEDBACK: Yes please!!!
VISIT ME: http://www.oocities.org/dra_gon_fly_er/
Beautiful - inside out
W.N. Campbell.
William Nicholas Campbell.
A truly manly name.
The name of a writer.
The name of a poet.
The name of a penniless university student with nothing but daydreams in his head.
He smiled at the face staring back at him from the mirror - then grimaced.
One day…
One day he'd show them all…
Prove to all the world that he wasn't worthless…
He had always been somewhat of the black sheep of the family, had always been a misfit in his beautiful family - like one lone dandelion in a rose patch.
Dandelion in a rose patch…
He liked the sound of this.
Maybe he would use it in a poem.
It was definitely worth a try.
He reluctantly gazed at his face in the mirror.
His eyes probably were the best part of it.
Not that he was vain - quite the contrary.
His darkish-blonde locks always looked tussled, no matter how hard he tried one would always spring up and curl out of place.
And his face…
Too hard.
Too edgy.
Too whatever…
Anything but even remotely considered handsome.
The very same could be applied to his body - bones were sticking out were other man had a figure.
No, he definitely wasn't an eyecatcher.
Or a ladies' man.
He liked to keep to himself.
And to his books and his writing.
Locked away in his small room.
Apart from the main house.
Apart from his siblings.
Apart from his parents.
A dandelion in a rose patch.
He quickly turned away from his pitiful counterpart.
How would he ever find the love of a woman?
At times he felt so lonely.
And the burning urge in his lower body hurt so much.
However, he didn't dare to touch himself, having been told by his father what happened to a lad who secretly did.
And he definitely did not want to lose his soul.
Or become the devil's own.
Or die of the Plague.
He looked down at himself and silently cursed.
His private parts definitely didn't agree with what his head told him.
Maybe if he had a bath, or held it for one short moment…?
He awkwardly gazed at his painful erection straining against its cotton confines.
He brought one tentative finger down to trace along the button fly of his pants.
"Argh…"
He felt a tingling running through his body that almost made him faint.
Clumsily, determined not to touch his weeping, hard shaft again, he stripped off his garments.
Yes, he definitely was going to have a bath.
Gawkily, his erection bobbing with every step, he waddled towards the large wooden bathtub.
Surely the water would be freezing by now since the last time one of the servants had brought up some hot water must have been hours ago.
Carefully, one foot at a time he lowered his skinny pale body into the waiting tub.
Oh yes, this felt so good.
However, it wouldn't help with the obvious.
His penis ached and throbbed but stubbornly refused to deflate.
Before he realised what he was doing, his traitorous left hand had already sneaked down the length of his body and loosely encircled his arching thick manhood.
Maybe one stroke wouldn't be all that bad…
Only one…
The tip of his index finger traced along the mushroom head of his uncircumcised shaft.
It jerked like a livewire every time his blunt fingernail scraped along the tiny slit.
One stroke…
One stroke wouldn't make him loose his soul…
Or become a devil's childe…
He took a firm hold on his weeping organ.
Then took a deep breath and…
"Ohmigod…"
He nearly jumped out of the tub when vicious hot gushes of milky white semen spurted from his ever so slowly softening penis.
"Ohmi…"
Trembling from the ejaculation and fear he shakily reached for a towel.
Tying the soft fabric around his slim hips he anxiously searched his body for the sure to appear black spots.
How was he going to explain this to his father?
Maybe if he saw a priest straight away?
Confessed his sins at once?
Maybe…
Maybe then…
He frantically searched for his trousers and shirt.
Partly dressed, shoes held dangling in either hand William rapidly fled the little room.
He ran, as fast as his legs would allow him to.
Ran like a madman, like someone whose life depended upon running.
And in that state he ran into his father's guests, his business associates.
That was the state of mind in which he ran into Liam.
The End